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diff --git a/7893-h/7893-h.htm b/7893-h/7893-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b7de886 --- /dev/null +++ b/7893-h/7893-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,18383 @@ +<?xml version="1.0" encoding="utf-8"?> + +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd" > + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" lang="en"> + <head> + <title> + Hide and Seek, by Wilkie Collins + </title> + <style type="text/css" xml:space="preserve"> + + body { margin:5%; background:#faebd0; text-align:justify} + P { text-indent: 1em; margin-top: .25em; margin-bottom: .25em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; margin-left: 15%; margin-right: 15%; } + hr { width: 50%; text-align: center;} + .foot { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; text-indent: -3em; font-size: 90%; } + blockquote {font-size: 97%; font-style: italic; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%;} + .mynote {background-color: #DDE; color: #000; padding: .5em; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; font-family: sans-serif; font-size: 95%;} + .toc { margin-left: 10%; margin-bottom: .75em;} + .toc2 { margin-left: 20%;} + div.fig { display:block; margin:0 auto; text-align:center; } + div.middle { margin-left: 20%; margin-right: 20%; text-align: justify; } + .figleft {float: left; margin-left: 0%; margin-right: 1%;} + .figright {float: right; margin-right: 0%; margin-left: 1%;} + .pagenum {display:inline; font-size: 70%; font-style:normal; + margin: 0; padding: 0; position: absolute; right: 1%; + text-align: right;} + pre { font-style: italic; font-size: 90%; margin-left: 10%;} + +</style> + </head> + <body> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Hide and Seek, by Wilkie Collins + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Hide and Seek + +Author: Wilkie Collins + +Release Date: July 31, 2009 [EBook #7893] +Last Updated: September 11, 2016 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HIDE AND SEEK *** + + + + +Produced by James Rusk, and David Widger + + + + + + +</pre> + + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h1> + HIDE AND SEEK + </h1> + <p> + <br /><br /> + </p> + <h2> + By Wilkie Collins + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h2> + Contents + </h2> + <p> + <a href="#link2H_PREF"> PREFACE TO THE REVISED EDITION </a> <br /> + </p> + <table summary="" style="margin-right: auto; margin-left: auto"> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0003"> OPENING CHAPTER. </a> + </td> + <td> + A CHILD’S SUNDAY + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0004"> BOOK I. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE HIDING + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> CHAPTER I. </a> + </td> + <td> + A NEW NEIGHBORHOOD, AND A STRANGE CHARACTER + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> CHAPTER II. </a> + </td> + <td> + MR. BLYTH IN HIS STUDIO + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> CHAPTER III. </a> + </td> + <td> + MADONNA’S CHILDHOOD + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> CHAPTER IV. </a> + </td> + <td> + MADONNA’S MOTHER + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> CHAPTER V. </a> + </td> + <td> + MADONNA’S MISFORTUNE + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> CHAPTER VI. </a> + </td> + <td> + MADONNA GOES TO LONDON + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> CHAPTER VII. </a> + </td> + <td> + MADONNA IN HER NEW HOME + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> CHAPTER VIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + MENTOR AND TELEMACHUS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> CHAPTER IX. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE TRIBULATIONS OF ZACK + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> CHAPTER X. </a> + </td> + <td> + MR. BLYTH’S DRAWING ACADEMY + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> CHAPTER XI. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE BREWING OF THE STORM + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0016"> BOOK II. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE SEEKING + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> CHAPTER I. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE MAN WITH THE BLACK SKULL-CAP + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> CHAPTER II. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE PRODIGAL’S RETURN + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> CHAPTER III. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE SEARCH BEGUN + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> CHAPTER IV. </a> + </td> + <td> + FATE WORKS, WITH ZACK FOR AN INSTRUMENT + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> CHAPTER V. </a> + </td> + <td> + FATE WORKS, WITH MR. BLYTH FOR AN INSTRUMENT + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0017"> CHAPTER VI. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE FINDING OF THE CLUE + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0018"> CHAPTER VII. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE BOX OF LETTERS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0019"> CHAPTER VIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + JOANNA GRICE’S NARRATIVE + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0020"> CHAPTER IX. </a> + </td> + <td> + MORE DISCOVERIES + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0021"> CHAPTER X. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE SQUAW’S MIXTURE + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0022"> CHAPTER XI. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE GARDEN DOOR + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0023"> CHAPTER XII. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE HAIR BRACELET + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0024"> CHAPTER XIII. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE SEARCH FOR ARTHUR CARR + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0025"> CHAPTER XIV. </a> + </td> + <td> + MARY’S GRAVE + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0026"> CHAPTER XV. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE DISCOVERY OF ARTHUR CARR + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0027"> CHAPTER XVI. </a> + </td> + <td> + THE DAY OF RECKONING + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2HCH0028"> CHAPTER XVII. </a> + </td> + <td> + MATTHEW GRICE’S REVENGE + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + <a href="#link2H_4_0034"> CLOSING CHAPTER. </a> + </td> + <td> + A YEAR AND A HALF AFTERWARDS + </td> + </tr> + <tr> + <td> + </td> + </tr> + </table> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h4> + TO + </h4> + <h3> + CHARLES DICKENS, + </h3> + <p> + THIS STORY IS INSCRIBED, <br /><br /> AS A <br /><br /> TOKEN OF ADMIRATION + AND AFFECTION, <br /><br /> BY HIS FRIEND, <br /><br /> THE AUTHOR. <br /> + <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_PREF" id="link2H_PREF"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + PREFACE TO THE REVISED EDITION + </h2> + <p> + This novel ranks the third, in order of succession, of the works of + fiction which I have produced. The history of its reception, on its first + appearance, is soon told. + </p> + <p> + Unfortunately for me, “Hide And Seek” was originally published in the year + eighteen hundred and fifty-four, at the outbreak of the Crimean War. All + England felt the absorbing interest of watching that serious national + event; and new books—some of them books of far higher pretensions + than mine—found the minds of readers in general pre-occupied or + indifferent. My own little venture in fiction necessarily felt the adverse + influence of the time. The demand among the booksellers was just large + enough to exhaust the first edition, and there the sale of this novel, in + its original form, terminated. + </p> + <p> + Since that period, the book has been, in the technical phrase, “out of + print.” Proposals have reached me, at various times, for its + republication; but I have resolutely abstained from availing myself of + them for two reasons. + </p> + <p> + In the first place, I was anxious to wait until “Hide And Seek” could make + its re-appearance on a footing of perfect equality with my other works. In + the second place, I was resolved to keep it back until it might obtain the + advantage of a careful revisal, guided by the light of the author’s later + experience. The period for the accomplishment of both these objects has + now presented itself. “Hide And Seek,” in this edition, forms one among + the uniform series of my novels, which has begun with “Antonina,” “The + Dead Secret,” and “The Woman In White;” and which will be continued with + “Basil,” and “The Queen Of Hearts.” My project of revisal has, at the same + time, been carefully and rigidly executed. I have abridged, and in many + cases omitted, several passages in the first edition, which made larger + demands upon the reader’s patience than I should now think it desirable to + venture on if I were writing a new book; and I have, in one important + respect, so altered the termination of the story as to make it, I hope, + more satisfactory and more complete than it was in its original form. + </p> + <p> + With such advantages, therefore, as my diligent revision can give it, + “Hide And Seek” now appeals, after an interval of seven years, for another + hearing. I cannot think it becoming—especially in this age of + universal self-assertion—to state the grounds on which I believe my + book to be worthy of gaining more attention than it obtained, through + accidental circumstances, when it was first published. Neither can I + consent to shelter myself under the favorable opinions which many of my + brother writers—and notably, the great writer to whom “Hide And + Seek” is dedicated—expressed of these pages when I originally wrote + them. I leave it to the reader to compare this novel—especially in + reference to the conception and delineation of character—with the + two novels (“Antonina” and “Basil”) which preceded it; and then to decide + whether my third attempt in fiction, with all its faults, was, or was not, + an advance in Art on my earlier efforts. This is all the favor I ask for a + work which I once wrote with anxious care—which I have since + corrected with no sparing hand—which I have now finally dismissed to + take its second journey through the world of letters as usefully and + prosperously as it can. + </p> + <p> + HARLEY STREET, LONDON, SEPTEMBER, 1861. <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> <a name="link2H_4_0003" id="link2H_4_0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <h2> + OPENING CHAPTER. A CHILD’S SUNDAY. + </h2> + <p> + At a quarter to one o’clock, on a wet Sunday afternoon, in November 1837, + Samuel Snoxell, page to Mr. Zachary Thorpe, of Baregrove Square, London, + left the area gate with three umbrellas under his arm, to meet his master + and mistress at the church door, on the conclusion of morning service. + Snoxell had been specially directed by the housemaid to distribute his + three umbrellas in the following manner: the new silk umbrella was to be + given to Mr. and Mrs. Thorpe; the old silk umbrella was to be handed to + Mr. Goodworth, Mrs. Thorpe’s father; and the heavy gingham was to be kept + by Snoxell himself, for the special protection of “Master Zack,” aged six + years, and the only child of Mr. Thorpe. Furnished with these + instructions, the page set forth on his way to the church. + </p> + <p> + The morning had been fine for November; but before midday the clouds had + gathered, the rain had begun, and the inveterate fog of the season had + closed dingily over the wet streets, far and near. The garden in the + middle of Baregrove Square—with its close-cut turf, its vacant beds, + its bran-new rustic seats, its withered young trees that had not yet grown + as high as the railings around them—seemed to be absolutely rotting + away in yellow mist and softly-steady rain, and was deserted even by the + cats. All blinds were drawn down for the most part over all windows; what + light came from the sky came like light seen through dusty glass; the grim + brown hue of the brick houses looked more dirtily mournful than ever; the + smoke from the chimney-pots was lost mysteriously in deepening + superincumbent fog; the muddy gutters gurgled; the heavy rain-drops + dripped into empty areas audibly. No object great or small, no out-of-door + litter whatever appeared anywhere, to break the dismal uniformity of line + and substance in the perspective of the square. No living being moved over + the watery pavement, save the solitary Snoxell. He plodded on into a + Crescent, and still the awful Sunday solitude spread grimly humid all + around him. He next entered a street with some closed shops in it; and + here, at last, some consoling signs of human life attracted his attention. + He now saw the crossing-sweeper of the district (off duty till church came + out) smoking a pipe under the covered way that led to a mews. He detected, + through half closed shutters, a chemist’s apprentice yawing over a large + book. He passed a navigator, an ostler, and two costermongers wandering + wearily backwards and forwards before a closed public-house door. He heard + the heavy <i>clop clop</i> of thickly-booted feet advancing behind him, + and a stern voice growling, “Now then! be off with you, or you’ll get + locked up!”—and, looking round, saw an orange-girl, guilty of having + obstructed an empty pavement by sitting on the curb-stone, driven along + before a policeman, who was followed admiringly by a ragged boy gnawing a + piece of orange-peel. Having delayed a moment to watch this Sunday + procession of three with melancholy curiosity as it moved by him, Snoxell + was about to turn the corner of a street which led directly to the church, + when a shrill series of cries in a child’s voice struck on his ear and + stopped his progress immediately. + </p> + <p> + The page stood stock-still in astonishment for an instant—then + pulled the new silk umbrella from under his arm, and turned the corner in + a violent hurry. His suspicions had not deceived him. There was Mr. Thorpe + himself walking sternly homeward through the rain, before church was over. + He led by the hand “Master Zack,” who was trotting along under protest, + with his hat half off his head, hanging as far back from his father’s side + as he possibly could, and howling all the time at the utmost pitch of a + very powerful pair of lungs. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Thorpe stopped as he passed the page, and snatched the umbrella out of + Snoxell’s hand, with unaccustomed impetuity; said sharply, “Go to your + mistress, go on to the church;” and then resumed his road home, dragging + his son after him faster than ever. + </p> + <p> + “Snoxy! Snoxy!” screamed Master Zack, turning round towards the page, so + that he tripped himself up and fell against his father’s legs at every + third step; “I’ve been a naughty boy at church!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! you look like it, you do,” muttered Snoxell to himself sarcastically, + as he went on. With that expression of opinion, the page approached the + church portico, and waited sulkily among his fellow servants and their + umbrellas for the congregation to come out. + </p> + <p> + When Mr. Goodworth and Mrs. Thorpe left the church, the old gentleman, + regardless of appearances, seized eagerly on the despised gingham + umbrella, because it was the largest he could get, and took his daughter + home under it in triumph. Mrs. Thorpe was very silent, and sighed + dolefully once or twice, when her father’s attention wandered from her to + the people passing along the street. + </p> + <p> + “You’re fretting about Zack,” said the old gentleman, looking round + suddenly at his daughter. “Never mind! leave it to me. I’ll undertake to + beg him off this time.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s very disheartening and shocking to find him behaving so,” said Mrs. + Thorpe, “after the careful way we’ve brought him up in, too!” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense, my love! No, I don’t mean that—I beg your pardon. But who + can be surprised that a child of six years old should be tired of a sermon + forty minutes long by my watch? I was tired of it myself I know, though I + wasn’t candid enough to show it as the boy did. There! there! we won’t + begin to argue: I’ll beg Zack off this time, and we’ll say no more about + it.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Goodworth’s announcement of his benevolent intentions towards Zack + seemed to have very little effect on Mrs. Thorpe; but she said nothing on + that subject or any other during the rest of the dreary walk home, through + rain, fog, and mud, to Baregrove Square. + </p> + <p> + Rooms have their mysterious peculiarities of physiognomy as well as men. + There are plenty of rooms, all of much the same size, all furnished in + much the same manner, which, nevertheless, differ completely in expression + (if such a term may be allowed) one from the other; reflecting the various + characters of their inhabitants by such fine varieties of effect in the + furniture-features generally common to all, as are often, like the + infinitesimal varieties of eyes, noses, and mouths, too intricately minute + to be traceable. Now, the parlor of Mr. Thorpe’s house was neat, clean, + comfortably and sensibly furnished. It was of the average size. It had the + usual side-board, dining-table, looking-glass, scroll fender, marble + chimney-piece with a clock on it, carpet with a drugget over it, and wire + window-blinds to keep people from looking in, characteristic of all + respectable London parlors of the middle class. And yet it was an + inveterately severe-looking room—a room that seemed as if it had + never been convivial, never uproarious, never anything but sternly + comfortable and serenely dull—a room which appeared to be as + unconscious of acts of mercy, and easy unreasoning over-affectionate + forgiveness to offenders of any kind—juvenile or otherwise—as + if it had been a cell in Newgate, or a private torturing chamber in the + Inquisition. Perhaps Mr. Goodworth felt thus affected by the parlor + (especially in November weather) as soon as he entered it—for, + although he had promised to beg Zack off, although Mr. Thorpe was sitting + alone by the table and accessible to petitions, with a book in his hand, + the old gentleman hesitated uneasily for a minute or two, and suffered his + daughter to speak first. + </p> + <p> + “Where is Zack?” asked Mrs. Thorpe, glancing quickly and nervously all + round her. + </p> + <p> + “He is locked up in my dressing-room,” answered her husband without taking + his eyes off the book. + </p> + <p> + “In your dressing-room!” echoed Mrs. Thorpe, looking as startled and + horrified as if she had received a blow instead of an answer; “in your + dressing-room! Good heavens, Zachary! how do you know the child hasn’t got + at your razors?” + </p> + <p> + “They are locked up,” rejoined Mr. Thorpe, with the mildest reproof in his + voice, and the mournfullest self-possession in his manner. “I took care + before I left the boy, that he should get at nothing which could do him + any injury. He is locked up, and will remain locked up, because”— + </p> + <p> + “I say, Thorpe! won’t you let him off this time?” interrupted Mr. + Goodworth, boldly plunging head foremost, with his petition for mercy, + into the conversation. + </p> + <p> + “If you had allowed me to proceed, sir,” said Mr. Thorpe, who always + called his father-in-law <i>Sir,</i> “I should have simply remarked that, + after having enlarged to my son (in such terms, you will observe, as I + thought best fitted to his comprehension) on the disgrace to his parents + and himself of his behavior this morning, I set him as a task three verses + to learn out of the ‘Select Bible Texts for Children;’ choosing the verses + which seemed most likely, if I may trust my own judgment on the point, to + impress on him what his behavior ought to be for the future in church. He + flatly refused to learn what I told him. It was, of course, quite + impossible to allow my authority to be set at defiance by my own child + (whose disobedient disposition has always, God knows, been a source of + constant trouble and anxiety to me); so I locked him up, and locked up he + will remain until he has obeyed me. My dear,” (turning to his wife and + handing her a key), “I have no objection, if you wish, to your going and + trying what <i>you</i> can do towards overcoming the obstinacy of this + unhappy child.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Thorpe took the key, and went up stairs immediately—went up to + do what all women have done, from the time of the first mother; to do what + Eve did when Cain was wayward in his infancy, and cried at her breast—in + short, went up to coax her child. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Thorpe, when his wife closed the door, carefully looked down the open + page on his knee for the place where he had left off—found it—referred + back a moment to the last lines of the preceding leaf—and then went + on with his book, not taking the smallest notice of Mr. Goodworth. + </p> + <p> + “Thorpe!” cried the old gentleman, plunging head-foremost again, into his + son-in-law’s reading this time instead of his talk, “You may say what you + please; but your notion of bringing up Zack is a wrong one altogether.” + </p> + <p> + With the calmest imaginable expression of face, Mr. Thorpe looked up from + his book; and, first carefully putting a paper-knife between the leaves, + placed it on the table. He then crossed one of his legs over the other, + rested an elbow on each arm of his chair, and clasped his hands in front + of him. On the wall opposite hung several lithographed portraits of + distinguished preachers, in and out of the Establishment—mostly + represented as very sturdily-constructed men with bristly hair, fronting + the spectator interrogatively and holding thick books in their hands. Upon + one of these portraits—the name of the original of which was stated + at the foot of the print to be the Reverend Aaron Yollop—Mr. Thorpe + now fixed his eyes, with a faint approach to a smile on his face (he never + was known to laugh), and with a look and manner which said as plainly as + if he had spoken it: “This old man is about to say something improper or + absurd to me; but he is my wife’s father, it is my duty to bear with him, + and therefore I am perfectly resigned.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s no use looking in that way, Thorpe,” growled the old gentleman; “I’m + not to be put down by looks at my time of life. I may have my own opinions + I suppose, like other people; and I don’t see why I shouldn’t express + them, especially when they relate to my own daughter’s boy. It’s very + unreasonable of me, I dare say, but I think I ought to have a voice now + and then in Zack’s bringing up.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Thorpe bowed respectfully—partly to Mr. Goodworth, partly to the + Reverend Aaron Yollop. “I shall always be happy, sir, to listen to any + expression of your opinion—” + </p> + <p> + “My opinion’s this,” burst out Mr. Goodworth. “You’ve no business to take + Zack to church at all, till he’s some years older than he is now. I don’t + deny that there may be a few children, here and there, at six years old, + who are so very patient, and so very—(what’s the word for a child + that knows a deal more than he has any business to know at his age? Stop! + I’ve got it!—<i>precocious</i>—that’s the word)—so very + patient and so very precocious that they will sit quiet in the same place + for two hours; making believe all the time that they understand every word + of the service, whether they really do or not. I don’t deny that there may + be such children, though I never met with them myself, and should think + them all impudent little hypocrites if I did! But Zack isn’t one of that + sort: Zack’s a genuine child (God bless him)! Zack—” + </p> + <p> + “Do I understand you, my dear sir,” interposed Mr. Thorpe, sorrowfully + sarcastic, “to be praising the conduct of my son in disturbing the + congregation, and obliging me to take him out of church?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing of the sort,” retorted the old gentleman; “I’m not praising + Zack’s conduct, but I <i>am</i> blaming yours. Here it is in plain words:—<i>You</i> + keep on cramming church down his throat; and <i>he</i> keeps on puking at + it as if it was physic, because he don’t know any better, and can’t know + any better at his age. Is that the way to make him take kindly to + religious teaching? I know as well as you do, that he roared like a young + Turk at the sermon. And pray what was the subject of the sermon? + Justification by Faith. Do you mean to tell me that he, or any other child + at his time of life, could understand anything of such a subject as that; + or get an atom of good out of it? You can’t—you know you can’t! I + say again, it’s no use taking him to church yet; and what’s more, it’s + worse than no use, for you only associate his first ideas of religious + instruction with everything in the way of restraint and discipline and + punishment that can be most irksome to him. There! that’s my opinion, and + I should like to hear what you’ve got to say against it?” + </p> + <p> + “Latitudinarianism,” said Mr. Thorpe, looking and speaking straight at the + portrait of the Reverend Aaron Yollop. + </p> + <p> + “You can’t fob me off with long words, which I don’t understand, and which + I don’t believe you can find in Johnson’s Dictionary,” continued Mr. + Goodworth doggedly. “You would do much better to take my advice, and let + Zack go to church, for the present, at his mother’s knees. Let his Morning + Service be about ten minutes long; let your wife tell him, out of the New + Testament, about Our Savior’s goodness and gentleness to little children; + and then let her teach him, from the Sermon on the Mount, to be loving and + truthful and forbearing and forgiving, for Our Savior’s sake. If such + precepts as those are enforced—as they may be in one way or another—by + examples drawn from his own daily life; from people around him; from what + he meets with and notices and asks about, out of doors and in—mark + my words, he’ll take kindly to his religious instruction. I’ve seen that + in other children: I’ve seen it in my own children, who were all brought + up so. Of course, you don’t agree with me! Of course you’ve got another + objection all ready to bowl me down with?” + </p> + <p> + “Rationalism,” said Mr. Thorpe, still looking steadily at the lithographed + portrait of the Reverend Aaron Yollop. + </p> + <p> + “Well, your objection’s a short one this time at any rate; and that’s a + blessing!” said the old gentleman rather irritably. “Rationalism—eh? + I understand that <i>ism,</i> I rather suspect, better than the other. It + means in plain English, that you think I’m wrong in only wanting to give + religious instruction the same chance with Zack which you let all other + kinds of instruction have—the chance of becoming useful by being + first made attractive. You can’t get him to learn to read by telling him + that it will improve his mind—but you can by getting him to look at + a picture book. You can’t get him to drink senna and salts by reasoning + with him about its doing him good—but you can by promising him a + lump of sugar to take after it. You admit this sort of principle so far, + because you’re obliged; but the moment anybody wants (in a spirit of + perfect reverence and desire to do good) to extend it to higher things, + you purse up your lips, shake your head, and talk about Rationalism—as + if that was an answer! Well! well! it’s no use talking—go your own + way—I wash my hands of the business altogether. But now I <i>am</i> + at it I’ll just say this one thing more before I’ve done:—your way + of punishing the boy for his behavior in church is, in my opinion, about + as bad and dangerous a one as could possibly be devised. Why not give him + a thrashing, if you <i>must</i> punish the miserable little urchin for + what’s his misfortune as much as his fault? Why not stop his pudding, or + something of that sort? Here you are associating verses in the Bible, in + his mind, with the idea of punishment and being locked up in the cold! You + may make him get his text by heart, I dare say, by fairly tiring him out; + but I tell you what I’m afraid you’ll make him learn too, if you don’t + mind—you’ll make him learn to dislike the Bible as much as other + boys dislike the birch-rod!” + </p> + <p> + “Sir,” cried Mr. Thorpe, turning suddenly round, and severely confronting + Mr. Goodworth, “once for all, I must most respectfully insist on being + spared for the future any open profanities in conversation, even from your + lips. All my regard and affection for you, as Mrs. Thorpe’s father, shall + not prevent me from solemnly recording my abhorrence of such awful + infidelity as I believe to be involved in the words you have just spoken! + My religious convictions recoil—” + </p> + <p> + “Stop, sir!” said Mr. Goodworth, seriously and sternly. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Thorpe obeyed at once. The old gentleman’s manner was generally much + more remarkable for heartiness than for dignity; but it altered completely + while he now spoke. As he struck his hand on the table, and rose from his + chair, there was something in his look which it was not wise to disregard. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Thorpe,” he went on, more calmly, but very decidedly, “I refrain from + telling you what my opinion is of the ‘respect’ and ‘affection’ which have + allowed <i>you</i> to rebuke <i>me</i> in such terms as you have chosen. I + merely desire to say that I shall never need a second reproof of the same + kind at your hands; for I shall never again speak to you on the subject of + my grandson’s education. If, in consideration of this assurance, you will + now permit me, in my turn—not to rebuke—but to offer you one + word of advice, I would recommend you not to be too ready in future, + lightly and cruelly to accuse a man of infidelity because his religious + opinions happen to differ on some subjects from yours. To infer a serious + motive for your opponent’s convictions, however wrong you may think them, + can do <i>you</i> no harm: to infer a scoffing motive can do <i>him</i> no + good. We will say nothing more about this, if you please. Let us shake + hands, and never again revive a subject about which we disagree too widely + ever to discuss it with advantage.” + </p> + <p> + At this moment the servant came in with lunch. Mr. Goodworth poured + himself out a glass of sherry, made a remark on the weather, and soon + resumed his cheerful, everyday manner. But he did not forget the pledge + that he had given to Mr. Thorpe. From that time forth, he never by word or + deed interfered again in his grandson’s education. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + While the theory of Mr. Thorpe’s system of juvenile instruction was being + discussed in the free air of the parlor, the practical working of that + theory, so far as regarded the case of Master Zack, was being exemplified + in anything but a satisfactory manner, in the prison-region of the + dressing-room. + </p> + <p> + While she ascended the first flight of stairs, Mrs. Thorpe’s ears informed + her that her son was firing off one uninterrupted volley of kicks against + the door of his place of confinement. As this was by no means an unusual + circumstance, whenever the boy happened to be locked up for bad behavior, + she felt distressed, but not at all surprised at what she heard; and went + into the drawing-room, on her way up stairs, to deposit her Bible and + Prayerbook (kept in a morocco case, with gold clasps) on the little + side-table, upon which they were always placed during week-days. Possibly, + she was so much agitated that her hand trembled; possibly, she was in too + great a hurry; possibly, the household imp who rules the brittle destinies + of domestic glass and china, had marked her out as his destroying angel + for that day; but however it was, in placing the morocco case on the + table, she knocked down and broke an ornament standing near it—a + little ivory model of a church steeple in the florid style, enshrined in a + glass case. Picking up the fragments, and mourning over the catastrophe, + occupied some little time, more than she was aware of, before she at last + left the drawing-room, to proceed on her way to the upper regions. + </p> + <p> + As she laid her hand on the banisters, it struck her suddenly and + significantly, that the noises in the dressing-room above had entirely + ceased. + </p> + <p> + The instant she satisfied herself of this, her maternal imagination, + uninfluenced by what Mr. Thorpe had said below stairs, conjured up an + appalling vision of Zack before his father’s looking-glass, with his chin + well lathered, and a bare razor at his naked throat. The child had indeed + a singular aptitude for amusing himself with purely adult occupations. + Having once been incautiously taken into church by his nurse, to see a + female friend of hers married, Zack had, the very next day, insisted on + solemnizing the nuptial ceremony from recollection, before a bride and + bridegroom of his own age, selected from his playfellows in the garden of + the square. Another time, when the gardener had incautiously left his + lighted pipe on a bench while he went to gather a flower for one of the + local nursery-maids, whom he was accustomed to favor horticulturally in + this way, Zack contrived, undetected, to take three greedy whiffs of + pigtail in close succession; was discovered reeling about the grass like a + little drunkard; and had to be smuggled home (deadly pale, and bathed in + cold perspiration) to recover, out of his mother’s sight, in the congenial + gloom of the back kitchen. Although the precise infantine achievements + here cited were unknown to Mrs. Thorpe, there were plenty more, like them, + which she had discovered; and the warning remembrance of which now hurried + the poor lady up the second flight of stairs in a state of breathless + agitation and alarm. + </p> + <p> + Zack, however, had not got at the razors; for they were all locked up, as + Mr. Thorpe had declared. But he had, nevertheless, discovered in the + dressing-room a means of perpetrating domestic mischief, which his father + had never thought of providing against. Finding that kicking, screaming, + stamping, sobbing, and knocking down chairs, were quite powerless as + methods of enforcing his liberation, he suddenly suspended his + proceedings; looked all round the room; observed the cock which supplied + his father’s bath with water; and instantly resolved to flood the house. + He had set the water going in the bath, had filled it to the brim, and was + anxiously waiting, perched up on a chair, to see it overflow—when + his mother unlocked the dressing-room door, and entered the room. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you naughty, wicked, shocking child!” cried Mrs. Thorpe, horrified at + what she beheld, but instantly stopping the threatened deluge from motives + of precaution connected with the drawing-room ceiling. “Oh, Zack! Zack! + what will you do next? What <i>would</i> your papa say if he heard of + this? You wicked, wicked, wicked child, I’m ashamed to look at you!” + </p> + <p> + And, in very truth, Zack offered at that moment a sufficiently + disheartening spectacle for a mother’s eyes to dwell on. There stood the + young imp, sturdy and upright in his chair, wriggling his shoulders in and + out of his frock, and holding his hands behind him in unconscious + imitation of the favorite action of Napoleon the Great. His light hair was + all rumpled down over his forehead; his lips were swelled; his nose was + red; and from his bright blue eyes Rebellion looked out frankly + mischievous, amid a surrounding halo of dirt and tears, rubbed circular by + his knuckles. After gazing on her son in mute despair for a minute or so, + Mrs. Thorpe took the only course that was immediately open to her—or, + in other words, took the child off the chair. + </p> + <p> + “Have you learnt your lesson, you wicked boy?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “No, I havn’t,” answered Zack, resolutely. + </p> + <p> + “Then come to the table with me: your papa’s waiting to hear you. Come + here and learn your lesson directly,” said Mrs. Thorpe, leading the way to + the table. + </p> + <p> + “I won’t!” rejoined Zack, emphasizing the refusal by laying tight hold of + the wet sides of the bath with both hands. + </p> + <p> + It was lucky for this rebel of six years old that he addressed those two + words to his mother only. If his nurse had heard them, she would instantly + have employed that old-established resource in all educational + difficulties, familiarly known to persons of her condition under the + appellation of “a smack on the head;” if Mr. Thorpe had heard them, the + boy would have been sternly torn away, bound to the back of a chair, and + placed ignominiously with his chin against the table; if Mr. Goodworth had + heard them, the probability is that he would instantly have lost his + temper, and soused his grandson head over ears in the bath. Not one of + these ideas occurred to Mrs. Thorpe, who possessed no ideas. But she had + certain substitutes which were infinitely more useful in the present + emergency: she had instincts. + </p> + <p> + “Look up at me, Zack,” she said, returning to the bath, and sitting in the + chair by its side; “I want to say something to you.” + </p> + <p> + The boy obeyed directly. His mother opened her lips, stopped suddenly, + said a few words, stopped again, hesitated—and then ended her first + sentence of admonition in the most ridiculous manner, by snatching at the + nearest towel, and bearing Zack off to the wash-hand basin. + </p> + <p> + The plain fact was, that Mrs. Thorpe was secretly vain of her child. She + had long since, poor woman, forced down the strong strait-waistcoats of + prudery and restraint over every other moral weakness but this—of + all vanities the most beautiful; of all human failings surely the most + pure! Yes, she was proud of Zack! The dear, naughty, handsome, + church-disturbing, door-kicking, house-flooding Zack! If he had been a + plain-featured boy, she could have gone on more sternly with her + admonition: but to look coolly on his handsome face, made ugly by dirt, + tears, and rumpled hair; to speak to him in that state, while soap, water, + brush and towel, were all within reach, was more than the mother (or the + woman either, for that matter) had the self-denial to do! So, before it + had well begun, the maternal lecture ended impotently in the wash-hand + basin. + </p> + <p> + When the boy had been smartened and brushed up, Mrs. Thorpe took him on + her lap; and suppressing a strong desire to kiss him on both his round, + shining cheeks, said these words:— + </p> + <p> + “I want you to learn your lesson, because you will please <i>me</i> by + obeying your papa. I have always been kind to <i>you,</i>—now I want + you to be kind to <i>me.”</i> + </p> + <p> + For the first time, Zack hung down his head, and seemed unprepared with an + answer. Mrs. Thorpe knew by experience what this symptom meant. “I think + you are beginning to be sorry for what you have done, and are going to be + a good boy,” she said. “If you are, I know you will give me a kiss.” Zack + hesitated again—then suddenly reached up, and gave his mother a + hearty and loud-sounding kiss on the tip of her chin. “And now you will + learn your lesson?” continued Mrs. Thorpe. “I have always tried to make <i>you</i> + happy, and I am sure you are ready, by this time, to try and make <i>me</i> + happy—are you not, Zack?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I am,” said Zack manfully. His mother took him at once to the table, + on which the “Select Bible Texts for Children” lay open, and tried to lift + him into a chair “No!” said the boy, resisting and shaking his head + resolutely; “I want to learn my lesson on your lap.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Thorpe humored him immediately. She was not a handsome, not even a + pretty woman; and the cold atmosphere of the dressing-room by no means + improved her personal appearance. But, notwithstanding this, she looked + absolutely attractive and interesting at the present moment, as she sat + with Zack in her arms, bending over him while he studied his three verses + in the “Bible Texts.” Women who have been ill-used by nature have this + great advantage over men in the same predicament—wherever there is a + child present, they have a means ready at hand, which they can all employ + alike, for hiding their personal deficiencies. Who ever saw an awkward + woman look awkward with a baby in her arms? Who ever saw an ugly woman + look ugly when she was kissing a child? + </p> + <p> + Zack, who was a remarkably quick boy when he chose to exert himself, got + his lesson by heart in so short a time that his mother insisted on hearing + him twice over, before she could satisfy herself that he was really + perfect enough to appear in his father’s presence. The second trial + decided her doubts, and she took him in triumph down stairs. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Thorpe was reading intently, Mr. Goodworth was thinking profoundly, + the rain was falling inveterately, the fog was thickening dirtily, and the + austerity of the severe-looking parlor was hardening apace into its most + adamantine Sunday grimness, as Zack was brought to say his lesson at his + father’s knees. He got through it perfectly again; but his childish + manner, during this third trial, altered from frankness to + distrustfulness; and he looked much oftener, while he said his task, at + Mr. Goodworth than at his father. When the texts had been repeated, Mr. + Thorpe just said to his wife, before resuming his book—“You may tell + the nurse, my dear, to get Zachary’s dinner ready for him—though he + doesn’t deserve it for behaving so badly about learning his lesson.” + </p> + <p> + “Please, grandpapa, may I look at the picture-book you brought for me last + night, after I was in bed?” said Zack, addressing Mr. Goodworth, and + evidently feeling that he was entitled to his reward now he had suffered + his punishment. + </p> + <p> + “Certainly not on a Sunday,” interposed Mr. Thorpe; “your grandpapa’s book + is not a book for Sundays.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Goodworth started, and seemed about to speak; but recollecting what he + had said to Mr. Thorpe, contented himself with poking the fire. The book + in question was a certain romance, entitled “Jack and the Bean Stalk,” + adorned with illustrations in the freest style of water-color art. + </p> + <p> + “If you want to look at picture-books, you know what books you may have + to-day; and your mamma will get them for you when she comes in again,” + continued Mr. Thorpe. + </p> + <p> + The works now referred to were, an old copy of the “Pilgrim’s Progress” + containing four small prints of the period of the last century; and a + “Life of Moses,” illustrated by severe German outlines in the manner of + the modern school. Zack knew well enough what books his father meant, and + exhibited his appreciation of them by again beginning to wriggle his + shoulders in and out of his frock. He had evidently had more than enough + already of the “Pilgrim’s Progress” and the “Life of Moses.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Thorpe said nothing more, and returned to his reading. Mr. Goodworth + put his hands in his pockets, yawned disconsolately, and looked, with a + languidly satirical expression in his eyes, to see what his grandson would + do next. If the thought passing through the old gentleman’s mind at that + moment had been put into words, it would have been exactly expressed in + the following sentence:—“You miserable little boy! When I was your + age, how I should have kicked at all this!” + </p> + <p> + Zack was not long in finding a new resource. He spied Mr. Goodworth’s cane + standing in a corner; and, instantly getting astride of it, prepared to + amuse himself with a little imaginary horse-exercise up and down the room. + He had just started at a gentle canter, when his father called out, + “Zachary!” and brought the boy to a stand-still directly. + </p> + <p> + “Put back the stick where you took it from,” said Mr. Thorpe; “you mustn’t + do that on Sunday. If you want to move about, you can walk up and down the + room.” + </p> + <p> + Zack paused, debating for an instant whether he should disobey or burst + out crying. + </p> + <p> + “Put back the stick,” repeated Mr. Thorpe. + </p> + <p> + Zack remembered the dressing-room and the “Select Bible Texts for + Children,” and wisely obeyed. He was by this time completely crushed down + into as rigid a state of Sunday discipline as his father could desire. + After depositing the stick in the corner, he slowly walked up to Mr. + Goodworth, with a comical expression of amazement and disgust in his + chubby face, and meekly laid down his head on his grandfather’s knee. + </p> + <p> + “Never say die, Zack,” said the kind old gentleman, rising and taking the + boy in his arms. “While nurse is getting your dinner ready, let’s look out + of window, and see if it’s going to clear up.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Thorpe raised his head disapprovingly from his book, but said nothing + this time. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, rain! rain! rain!” muttered Mr. Goodworth, staring desperately out at + the miserable prospect, while Zack amused himself by rubbing his nose + vacantly backwards and forwards against a pane of glass. “Rain! rain! + Nothing but rain and fog in November. Hold up, Zack! Ding-dong, ding-dong; + there go the bells for afternoon church! I wonder whether it will be fine + to-morrow? Think of the pudding, my boy!” whispered the old gentleman with + a benevolent remembrance of the consolation which that thought had often + afforded to him, when he was a child himself. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” said Zack, acknowledging the pudding suggestion, but declining to + profit by it. “And, please, when I’ve had my dinner, will somebody put me + to bed?” + </p> + <p> + “Put you to bed!” exclaimed Mr. Goodworth. “Why, bless the boy! what’s + come to him now? He used always to be wanting to stop up.” + </p> + <p> + “I want to go to bed, and get to to-morrow, and have my picture-book,” was + the weary and whimpering answer. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll be hanged, if I don’t want to go to bed too!” soliloquized the old + gentleman under his breath, “and get to to-morrow, and have my ‘Times’ at + breakfast. I’m as bad as Zack, every bit!” + </p> + <p> + “Grandpapa,” continued the child, more wearily than before, “I want to + whisper something in your ear.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Goodworth bent down a little. Zack looked round cunningly towards his + father—then putting his mouth close to his grandfather’s ear, + communicated the conclusion at which he had arrived, after the events of + the day, in these words— + </p> + <p> + <i>“I say, granpapa, I hate Sunday!”</i> + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0004" id="link2H_4_0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BOOK I. THE HIDING. + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. A NEW NEIGHBORHOOD, AND A STRANGE CHARACTER. + </h2> + <p> + At the period when the episode just related occurred in the life of Mr. + Zachary Thorpe the younger—that is to say, in the year 1837—Baregrove + Square was the farthest square from the city, and the nearest to the + country, of any then existing in the north-western suburb of London. But, + by the time fourteen years more had elapsed—that is to say, in the + year 1851—Baregrove Square had lost its distinctive character + altogether; other squares had filched from it those last remnants of + healthy rustic flavor from which its good name had been derived; other + streets, crescents, rows, and villa-residences had forced themselves + pitilessly between the old suburb and the country, and had suspended for + ever the once neighborly relations between the pavement of Baregrove + Square and the pathways of the pleasant fields. + </p> + <p> + Alexander’s armies were great makers of conquests; and Napoleon’s armies + were great makers of conquests; but the modern Guerilla regiments of the + hod, the trowel, and the brick-kiln, are the greatest conquerors of all; + for they hold the longest the soil that they have once possessed. How + mighty the devastation which follows in the wake of these tremendous + aggressors, as they march through the kingdom of nature, triumphantly + bricklaying beauty wherever they go! What dismantled castle, with the + enemy’s flag flying over its crumbling walls, ever looked so utterly + forlorn as a poor field-fortress of nature, imprisoned on all sides by the + walled camp of the enemy, and degraded by a hostile banner of pole and + board, with the conqueror’s device inscribed on it—“THIS GROUND TO + BE LET ON BUILDING LEASES?” What is the historical spectacle of Marius + sitting among the ruins of Carthage, but a trumpery theatrical set-scene, + compared with the mournful modern sight of the last tree left standing, on + the last few feet of grass left growing, amid the greenly-festering stucco + of a finished Paradise Row, or the naked scaffolding poles of a + half-completed Prospect Place? Oh, gritty-natured Guerilla regiments of + the hod, the trowel, and the brick-kiln! the town-pilgrim of nature, when + he wanders out at fall of day into the domains which you have spared for a + little while, hears strange things said of you in secret, as he duteously + interprets the old, primeval language of the leaves; as he listens to the + death-doomed trees, still whispering mournfully around him the last notes + of their ancient even-song! + </p> + <p> + But what avails the voice of lamentation? What new neighborhood ever + stopped on its way into the country, to hearken to the passive + remonstrance of the fields, or to bow to the indignation of outraged + admirers of the picturesque? Never was suburb more impervious to any faint + influences of this sort, than that especial suburb which grew up between + Baregrove Square and the country; removing a walk among the hedge-rows a + mile off from the resident families, with a ruthless rapidity at which + sufferers on all sides stared aghast. First stories were built, and + mortgaged by the enterprising proprietors to get money enough to go on + with the second; old speculators failed and were succeeded by new; + foundations sank from bad digging; walls were blown down in high winds + from hasty building; bricks were called for in such quantities, and seized + on in such haste, half-baked from the kilns, that they set the carts on + fire, and had to be cooled in pails of water before they could be erected + into walls—and still the new suburb defied all accidents, and grew + irrepressibly into a little town of houses, ready to be let and lived in, + from the one end to the other. + </p> + <p> + The new neighborhood offered house-accommodation—accepted at the + higher prices as yet only to a small extent—to three distinct + subdivisions of the great middle class of our British population. Rents + and premises were adapted, in a steeply descending scale, to the means of + the middle classes with large incomes, of the middle classes with moderate + incomes, and of the middle classes with small incomes. The abodes for the + large incomes were called “mansions,” and were fortified strongly against + the rest of the suburb by being all built in one wide row, shut in at + either end by ornamental gates, and called a “park.” The unspeakable + desolation of aspect common to the whole suburb, was in a high state of + perfection in this part of it. Irreverent street noises fainted dead away + on the threshold of the ornamental gates, at the sight of the hermit + lodge-keeper. The cry of the costermonger and the screech of the vagabond + London boy were banished out of hearing. Even the regular tradesman’s + time-honored business noises at customers’ doors, seemed as if they ought + to have been relinquished here. The frantic falsetto of the milkman, the + crash of the furious butcher’s cart over the never-to-be pulverized stones + of the new road through the “park,” always sounded profanely to the + passing stranger, in the spick-and-span stillness of this Paradise of the + large incomes. + </p> + <p> + The hapless small incomes had the very worst end of the whole locality + entirely to themselves, and absorbed all the noises and nuisances, just as + the large incomes absorbed all the tranquillities and luxuries of suburban + existence. Here were the dreary limits at which architectural invention + stopped in despair. Each house in this poor man’s purgatory was, indeed, + and in awful literalness, a brick box with a slate top to it. Every hole + drilled in these boxes, whether door-hole or window-hole, was always + overflowing with children. They often mustered by forties and fifties in + one street, and were the great pervading feature of the quarter. In the + world of the large incomes, young life sprang up like a garden fountain, + artificially playing only at stated periods in the sunshine. In the world + of the small incomes, young life flowed out turbulently into the street, + like an exhaustless kennel-deluge, in all weathers. Next to the children + of the inhabitants, in visible numerical importance, came the shirts and + petticoats, and miscellaneous linen of the inhabitants; fluttering out to + dry publicly on certain days of the week, and enlivening the treeless + little gardens where they hung, with lightsome avenues of pinafores, and + solemn-spreading foliage of stout Welsh flannel. Here that absorbing + passion for oranges (especially active when the fruit is half ripe, and + the weather is bitter cold), which distinguishes the city English girl of + the lower orders, flourished in its finest development; and here, also, + the poisonous fumes of the holyday shop-boy’s bad cigar told all resident + nostrils when it was Sunday, as plainly as the church bells could tell it + to all resident ears. The one permanent rarity in this neighborhood, on + week days, was to discover a male inhabitant in any part of it, between + the hours of nine in the morning and six in the evening; the one sorrowful + sight which never varied, was to see that every woman, even to the + youngest, looked more or less unhappy, often care-stricken, while youth + was still in the first bud; oftener child-stricken before maturity was yet + in the full bloom. + </p> + <p> + As for the great central portion of the suburb—or, in other words, + the locality of the moderate incomes—it reflected exactly the lives + of those who inhabited it, by presenting no distinctive character of its + own at all. + </p> + <p> + In one part, the better order of houses imitated as pompously as they + could, the architectural grandeur of the mansions owned by the large + incomes; in another, the worst order of houses respectably, but narrowly, + escaped a general resemblance to the brick boxes of the small incomes. In + some places, the “park” influences vindicated their existence superbly in + the persons of isolated ladies who, not having a carriage to go out in for + an airing, exhibited the next best thing, a footman to walk behind them: + and so got a pedestrian airing genteelly in that way. In other places, the + obtrusive spirit of the brick boxes rode about, thinly disguised, in + children’s carriages, drawn by nursery-maids; or fluttered aloft, + delicately discernible at angles of view, in the shape of a lace + pocket-handkerchief or a fine-worked chemisette, drying modestly at home + in retired corners of back gardens. Generally, however, the hostile + influences of the large incomes and the small mingled together on the + neutral ground of the moderate incomes; turning it into the dullest, the + dreariest, the most oppressively conventional division of the whole + suburb. It was just that sort of place where the thoughtful man looking + about him mournfully at the locality, and physiologically observing the + inhabitants, would be prone to stop suddenly, and ask himself one plain, + but terrible question: “Do these people ever manage to get any real + enjoyment out of their lives, from one year’s end to another?” + </p> + <p> + To the looker-on at the system of life prevailing among the moderate + incomes in England, the sort of existence which that system embodies seems + in some aspects to be without a parallel in any other part of the + civilized world. Is it not obviously true that, while the upper classes + and the lower classes of English society have each their own + characteristic recreations for leisure hours, adapted equally to their + means and to their tastes, the middle classes, in general, have (to expose + the sad reality) nothing of the sort? To take an example from those eating + and drinking recreations which absorb so large a portion of existence:—If + the rich proprietors of the “mansions” in the “park” could give their + grand dinners, and be as prodigal as they pleased with their first-rate + champagne, and their rare gastronomic delicacies; the poor tenants of the + brick boxes could just as easily enjoy their tea-garden conversazione, and + be just as happily and hospitably prodigal, in turn, with their + porter-pot, their teapot, their plate of bread-and-butter, and their dish + of shrimps. On either side, these representatives of two pecuniary + extremes in society, looked for what recreations they wanted with their + own eyes, pursued those recreations within their own limits, and enjoyed + themselves unreservedly in consequence. Not so with the moderate incomes: + they, in their social moments, shrank absurdly far from the poor people’s + porter and shrimps; crawled contemptibly near to the rich people’s rare + wines and luxurious dishes; exposed their poverty in imitation by chemical + champagne from second-rate wine merchants, by flabby salads and fetid + oyster-patties from second-rate pastry-cooks; were, in no one of their + festive arrangements, true to their incomes, to their order, or to + themselves; and, in very truth, for all these reasons and many more, got + no real enjoyment out of their lives, from one year’s end to another. + </p> + <p> + On the outskirts of that part of the new suburb appropriated to these + unhappy middle classes with moderate incomes, there lived a gentleman (by + name Mr. Valentine Blyth) whose life offered as strong a practical + contradiction as it is possible to imagine to the lives of his neighbors. + </p> + <p> + He was by profession an artist—an artist in spite of circumstances. + Neither his father, nor his mother, nor any relation of theirs, on either + side, had ever practiced the Art of Painting, or had ever derived any + special pleasure from the contemplation of pictures. They were all + respectable commercial people of the steady fund-holding old school, who + lived exclusively within their own circle; and had never so much as spoken + to a live artist or author in the whole course of their lives. The + City-world in which Valentine’s boyhood was passed, was as destitute of + art influences of any kind as if it had been situated on the coast of + Greenland; and yet, to the astonishment of everybody, he was always + drawing and painting, in his own rude way, at every leisure hour. His + father was, as might be expected, seriously disappointed and amazed at the + strange direction taken by the boy’s inclinations. No one (including + Valentine himself) could ever trace them back to any recognizable source; + but everyone could observe plainly enough that there was no hope of + successfully opposing them by fair means of any kind. Seeing this, old Mr. + Blyth, like a wise man, at last made a virtue of necessity; and, giving + way to his son, entered him, under strong commercial protest, as a student + in the Schools of the Royal Academy. + </p> + <p> + Here Valentine remained, working industriously, until his twenty-first + birthday. On that occasion, Mr. Blyth had a little serious talk with him + about his prospects in life. In the course of this conversation, the young + man was informed that a rich merchant-uncle was ready to take him into + partnership; and that his father was equally ready to start him in + business with his whole share, as one of three children, in the + comfortable inheritance acquired for the family by the well-known City + house of Blyth and Company. If Valentine consented to this arrangement, + his fortune was secured, and he might ride in his carriage before he was + thirty. If, on the other hand, he really chose to fling away a fortune, he + should not be pinched for means to carry on his studies as a painter. The + interest of his inheritance on his father’s death, should be paid + quarterly to him during his father’s lifetime: the annual independence + thus secured to the young artist, under any circumstances, being + calculated as amounting to a little over four hundred pounds a year. + </p> + <p> + Valentine was not deficient in gratitude. He took a day to consider what + he should do, though his mind was quite made up about his choice + beforehand; and then persisted in his first determination; throwing away + the present certainty of becoming a wealthy man, for the sake of the + future chance of turning out a great painter. + </p> + <p> + If he had really possessed genius, there would have been nothing very + remarkable in this part of his history, so far; but having nothing of the + kind, holding not the smallest spark of the great creative fire in his + whole mental composition, surely there was something very discouraging to + contemplate, in the spectacle of a man resolutely determining, in spite of + adverse home circumstances and strong home temptation, to abandon all + those paths in life, along which he might have walked fairly abreast with + his fellows, for the one path in which he was predestinated by Nature to + be always left behind by the way. Do the announcing angels, whose mission + it is to whisper of greatness to great spirits, ever catch the infection + of fallibility from their intercourse with mortals? Do the voices which + said truly to Shakespeare, to Raphael, and to Mozart, in their youth-time,—You + are chosen to be gods in this world—ever speak wrongly to souls + which they are not ordained to approach? It may be so. There are men + enough in all countries whose lives would seem to prove it—whose + deaths have not contradicted it. + </p> + <p> + But even to victims such as these, there are pleasant resting-places on + the thorny way, and flashes of sunlight now and then, to make the cloudy + prospect beautiful, though only for a little while. It is not all + misfortune and disappointment to the man who is mentally unworthy of a + great intellectual vocation, so long as he is morally worthy of it; so + long as he can pursue it honestly, patiently, and affectionately, for its + own dear sake. Let him work, though ever so obscurely, in this spirit + towards his labor, and he shall find the labor itself its own exceeding + great reward. In that reward lives the divine consolation, which, though + Fame turn her back on him contemptuously, and Affluence pass over + unpitying to the other side of the way, shall still pour oil upon all his + wounds, and take him quietly and tenderly to the hard journey’s end. To + this one exhaustless solace, which the work, no matter of what degree, can + yield always to earnest workers, the man who has succeeded, and the man + who has failed, can turn alike, as to a common mother—the one, for + refuge from mean envy and slanderous hatred, from all the sorest evils + which even the thriving child of Fame is heir to; the other, from neglect, + from ridicule, from defeat, from all the petty tyrannies which the pining + bondman of Obscurity is fated to undergo. + </p> + <p> + Thus it was with Valentine. He had sacrificed a fortune to his Art; and + his Art—in the world’s eye at least—had given to him nothing + in return. Friends and relatives who had not scrupled, on being made + acquainted with his choice of a vocation, to call it in question, and + thereby to commit that worst and most universal of all human + impertinences, which consists of telling a man to his face, by the + plainest possible inference, that others are better able than he is + himself to judge what calling in life is fittest and worthiest for him—friends + and relatives who thus upbraided Valentine for his refusal to accept the + partnership in his uncle’s house, affected, on discovering that he made no + public progress whatever in Art, to believe that he was simply an idle + fellow, who knew that his father’s liberality placed him beyond the + necessity of working for his bread, and who had taken up the pursuit of + painting as a mere amateur amusement to occupy his leisure hours. To a man + who labored like poor Blyth, with the steadiest industry and the highest + aspirations, such whispered calumnies as these were of all mortifications + the most cruel, of all earthly insults the hardest to bear. + </p> + <p> + Still he worked on patiently, never losing faith or hope, because he never + lost the love of his Art, or the enjoyment of pursuing it, irrespective of + results, however disheartening. Like most other men of his slight + intellectual caliber, the works he produced were various, if nothing else. + He tried the florid style, and the severe style; he was by turns + devotional, allegorical, historical, sentimental, humorous. At one time, + he abandoned figure-painting altogether, and took to landscape; now + producing conventional studies from Nature,—and now, again, reveling + in poetical compositions, which might have hung undetected in many a + collection as doubtful specimens of Berghem or Claude. + </p> + <p> + But whatever department of painting Valentine tried to excel in, the same + unhappy destiny seemed always in reserve for each completed effort. For + years and years his pictures pleaded hard for admission at the Academy + doors, and were invariably (and not unfairly, it must be confessed) + refused even the worst places on the walls of the Exhibition rooms. Season + after season he still bravely struggled on, never depressed, never + hopeless while he was before his easel, until at last the day of reward—how + long and painfully wrought for!—actually arrived. A small picture of + a very insignificant subject—being only a kitchen “interior,” with a + sleek cat on a dresser, stealing milk from the tea-tray during the + servant’s absence—was benevolently marked “doubtful” by the Hanging + Committee; was thereupon kept in reserve, in case it might happen to fit + any forgotten place near the floor—did fit such a place—and + was really hung up, as Mr. Blyth’s little unit of a contribution to the + one thousand and odd works exhibited to the public, that year, by the + Royal Academy. + </p> + <p> + But Valentine’s triumph did not end here. His picture of the treacherous + cat stealing the household milk—entitled, by way of appealing + jocosely to the strong Protestant interest, “The Jesuit in the Family,”—was + really sold to an Art-Union prize-holder for ten pounds. Once furnished + with a bank note won by his own brush, Valentine indulged in the most + extravagant anticipations of future celebrity and future wealth; and + proved, recklessly enough, that he believed as firmly as any other + visionary in the wildest dreams of his own imagination, by marrying, and + setting up an establishment, on the strength of the success which had been + achieved by “The Jesuit in the Family.” + </p> + <p> + He had been for some time past engaged to the lady who had now become Mrs. + Valentine Blyth. She was the youngest of eight sisters, who formed part of + the family of a poor engraver, and who, in the absence of any mere money + qualifications, were all rich alike in the ownership of most magnificent + Christian names. Mrs. Blyth was called Lavinia-Ada; and hers was by far + the humblest name to be found among the whole sisterhood. Valentine’s + relations all objected strongly to this match, not only on account of the + bride’s poverty, but for another and a very serious reason, which events + soon proved to be but too well founded. + </p> + <p> + Lavinia had suffered long and severely, as a child, from a bad spinal + malady. Constant attention, and such medical assistance as her father + could afford to employ, had, it was said, successfully combated the + disorder; and the girl grew up, prettier than any of her sisters, and + apparently almost as strong as the healthiest of them. Old Mr. Blyth, + however, on hearing that his son was now just as determined to become a + married man as he had formerly been to become a painter, thought it + advisable to make certain inquiries about the young lady’s constitution; + and addressed them, with characteristic caution, to the family doctor, at + a private interview. + </p> + <p> + The result of this conference was far from being satisfactory. The doctor + was suspiciously careful not to commit himself: he said that he hoped the + spine was no longer in danger of being affected; but that he could not + conscientiously express himself as feeling quite sure about it. Having + repeated these discouraging words to his son, old Mr. Blyth delicately and + considerately, but very plainly, asked Valentine whether, after what he + had heard, he still honestly thought that he would be consulting his own + happiness, or the lady’s happiness either, by marrying her at all? or, at + least, by marrying her at a time when the doctor could not venture to say + that the poor girl might not be even yet in danger of becoming an invalid + for life? + </p> + <p> + Valentine, as usual, persisted at first in looking exclusively at the + bright side of the question, and made light of the doctor’s authority + accordingly. + </p> + <p> + “Lavvie and I love each other dearly,” he said with a little trembling in + his voice, but with perfect firmness of manner. “I hope in God that what + you seem to fear will never happen; but even if it should, I shall never + repent having married her, for I know that I am just as ready to be her + nurse as to be her husband. I am willing to take her in sickness and in + health, as the Prayer-Book says. In my home she would have such constant + attention paid to her wants and comforts as she could not have at her + father’s, with his large family and his poverty, poor fellow! And this is + reason enough, I think, for my marrying her, even if the worst should take + place. But I always have hoped for the best, as you know, father: and I + mean to go on hoping for poor Lavvie, just the same as ever!” + </p> + <p> + What could old Mr. Blyth, what could any man of heart and honor, oppose to + such an answer as this? Nothing. The marriage took place; and Valentine’s + father tried hard, and not altogether vainly, to feel as sanguine about + future results as Valentine himself. + </p> + <p> + For several months—how short the time seemed, when they looked back + on it in after-years!—the happiness of the painter and his wife more + than fulfilled the brightest hopes which they had formed as lovers. As for + the doctor’s cautious words, they were hardly remembered now; or, if + recalled, were recalled only to be laughed over. But the time of bitter + grief, which had been appointed, though they knew it not, came inexorably, + even while they were still lightly jesting at all medical authority round + the painter’s fireside. Lavinia caught a severe cold. The cold turned to + rheumatism, to fever, then to general debility, then to nervous attacks—each + one of these disorders, being really but so many false appearances, under + which the horrible spinal malady was treacherously and slowly advancing in + disguise. + </p> + <p> + When the first positive symptoms appeared, old Mr. Blyth acted with all + his accustomed generosity towards his son. “My purse is yours, Valentine,” + said he; “open it when you like; and let Lavinia, while there is a chance + for her, have the same advice and the same remedies as if she was the + greatest duchess in the land.” The old man’s affectionate advice was + affectionately followed. The most renowned doctors in England prescribed + for Lavinia; everything that science and incessant attention could do, was + done; but the terrible disease still baffled remedy after remedy, + advancing surely and irresistibly, until at last the doctors themselves + lost all hope. So far as human science could foretell events, Mrs. Blyth, + in the opinion of all her medical advisers, was doomed for the rest of her + life never to rise again from the bed on which she lay; except, perhaps, + to be sometimes moved to the sofa, or, in the event of some favorable + reaction, to be wheeled about occasionally in an invalid chair. + </p> + <p> + What the shock of this intelligence was, both to husband and wife, no one + ever knew; they nobly kept it a secret even from each other. Mrs. Blyth + was the first to recover courage and calmness. She begged, as an especial + favor, that Valentine would seek consolation, where she knew he must find + it sooner or later, by going back to his studio, and resuming his old + familiar labors, which had been suspended from the time when her illness + had originally declared itself. + </p> + <p> + On the first day when, in obedience to her wishes, he sat before his + picture again—the half-finished picture from which he had been + separated for so many months—on that first day, when the friendly + occupation of his life seemed suddenly to have grown strange to him; when + his brush wandered idly among the colors, when his tears dropped fast on + the palette every time he looked down on it; when he tried hard to work as + usual, though only for half an hour, only on simple background places in + the composition; and still the brush made false touches, and still the + tints would not mingle as they should, and still the same words, repeated + over and over again, would burst from his lips: “Oh, poor Lavvie! oh, + poor, dear, dear Lavvie!”—even then, the spirit of that beloved art, + which he had always followed so humbly and so faithfully, was true to its + divine mission, and comforted and upheld him at the last bitterest moment + when he laid down his palette in despair. + </p> + <p> + While he was still hiding his face before the very picture which he and + his wife had once innocently and secretly glorified together, in those + happy days of its beginning that were never to come again, the sudden + thought of consolation shone out on his heart, and showed him how he might + adorn all his afterlife with the deathless beauty of a pure and noble + purpose. Thenceforth, his vague dreams of fame, and of rich men wrangling + with each other for the possession of his pictures, took the second place + in his mind; and, in their stead, sprang up the new resolution that he + would win independently, with his own brush, no matter at what sacrifice + of pride and ambition, the means of surrounding his sick wife with all + those luxuries and refinements which his own little income did not enable + him to obtain, and which he shrank with instinctive delicacy from + accepting as presents bestowed by his father’s generosity. Here was the + consoling purpose which robbed affliction of half its bitterness already, + and bound him and his art together by a bond more sacred than any that had + united them before. In the very hour when this thought came to him, he + rose without a pang to turn the great historical composition, from which + he had once hoped so much, with its face to the wall, and set himself to + finish an unpretending little “Study” of a cottage courtyard, which he was + certain of selling to a picture-dealing friend. The first approach to + happiness which he had known for a long, long time past, was on the + evening of that day, when he went upstairs to sit with Lavinia; and, + keeping secret his purpose of the morning, made the sick woman smile in + spite of her sufferings, by asking her how she should like to have her + room furnished, if she were the lady of a great lord, instead of being + only the wife of Valentine Blyth. + </p> + <p> + Then came the happy day when the secret was revealed, and afterwards the + pleasant years when poor Mrs. Blyth’s most splendid visions of luxury were + all gradually realized through her husband’s exertions in his profession. + But for his wife’s influence, Valentine would have been in danger of + abandoning high Art and Classical Landscape altogether, for cheap + portrait-painting, cheap copying, and cheap studies of Still Life. But + Mrs. Blyth, bedridden as she was, contrived to preserve all her old + influence over the labors of the Studio, and would ask for nothing new, + and receive nothing new, in her room, except on condition that her husband + was to paint at least one picture of High Art every year, for the sake (as + she proudly said) of “asserting his intellect and his reputation in the + eyes of the public.” Accordingly, Mr. Blyth’s time was pretty equally + divided between the production of great unsaleable “compositions,” which + were always hung near the ceiling in the Exhibition, and of small + marketable commodities, which were as invariably hung near the floor. + </p> + <p> + Valentine’s average earnings from his art, though humble enough in amount, + amply sufficed to fulfill the affectionate purpose for which, to the last + farthing, they were rigorously set aside. “Lavvie’s Drawing-Room” (this + was Mr. Blyth’s name for his wife’s bed-room) really looked as bright and + beautiful as any royal chamber in the universe. The rarest flowers, the + prettiest gardens under glass, bowls with gold and silver fish in them, a + small aviary of birds, an Aeolian harp to put on the window-sill in + summertime, some of Valentine’s best drawings from the old masters, + prettily-framed proof-impressions of engravings done by Mrs. Blyth’s + father, curtains and hangings of the tenderest color and texture, inlaid + tables, and delicately-carved book-cases, were among the different objects + of refinement and beauty which, in the course of years, Mr. Blyth’s + industry had enabled him to accumulate for his wife’s pleasure. No one but + himself ever knew what he had sacrificed in laboring to gain these things. + The heartless people whose portraits he had painted, and whose + impertinences he had patiently submitted to; the mean bargainers who had + treated him like a tradesman; the dastardly men of business who had + disgraced their order by taking advantage of his simplicity—how + hardly and cruelly such insect natures of this world had often dealt with + that noble heart! how despicably they had planted their small gad-fly + stings in the high soul which it was never permitted to them to subdue! + </p> + <p> + No! not once to subdue, not once to tarnish! All petty humiliations were + forgotten in one look at “Lavvie’s Drawing-Room;” all stain of insolent + words vanished from Valentine’s memory in the atmosphere of the Studio. + Never was a more superficial judgment pronounced than when his friends + said that he had thrown away his whole life, because he had chosen a + vocation in which he could win no public success. The lad’s earliest + instincts had indeed led him truly, after all. The art to which he had + devoted himself was the only earthly pursuit that could harmonize as + perfectly with all the eccentricities as with all the graces of his + character, that could mingle happily with every joy, tenderly with every + grief; belonging to the quiet, simple, and innocent life, which, employ + him anyhow, it was in his original nature to lead. But for this protecting + art, under what prim disguises, amid what foggy social climates of class + conventionality, would the worlds clerical, legal, mercantile, military, + naval, or dandy, have extinguished this man, if any one of them had caught + him in its snares! Where would then have been his frolicsome enthusiasm + that nothing could dispirit; his inveterate oddities of thought, speech, + and action, which made all his friends laugh at him and bless him in the + same breath; his affections, so manly in their firmness, so womanly in + their tenderness, so childlike in their frank, fearless confidence that + dreaded neither ridicule on the one side, nor deception on the other? + Where, and how, would all these characteristics have vanished, but for his + art—but for the abiding spirit, ever present to preserve their vital + warmth against the outer and earthly cold? The wisest of Valentine’s + friends, who shook their heads disparagingly whenever his name was + mentioned, were at least wise enough in <i>their</i> generation never to + ask themselves such embarrassing questions as these. + </p> + <p> + Thus much for the history of the painter’s past life. We may now make his + acquaintance in the appropriate atmosphere of his own Studio. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. MR. BLYTH IN HIS STUDIO. + </h2> + <p> + It was wintry weather—not such a November winter’s day as some of us + may remember looking at fourteen years ago, in Baregrove Square, but a + brisk frosty morning in January. The country view visible from the back + windows of Mr. Blyth’s house, which stood on the extreme limit of the new + suburb, was thinly and brightly dressed out for the sun’s morning levee, + in its finest raiment of pure snow. The cold blue sky was cloudless; every + sound out of doors fell on the ear with a hearty and jocund ring; all + newly-lit fires burnt up brightly and willingly without coaxing; and the + robin-redbreasts hopped about expectantly on balconies and windowsills, as + if they only waited for an invitation to walk in and warm themselves, + along with their larger fellow creatures, round the kindly hearth. + </p> + <p> + The Studio was a large and lofty room, lighted by a skylight, and running + along the side of the house throughout its whole depth. Its walls were + covered with plain brown paper, and its floor was only carpeted in the + middle. The most prominent pieces of furniture were two large easels + placed at either extremity of the room; each supporting a picture of + considerable size, covered over for the present with a pair of sheets + which looked woefully in want of washing. There was a painting-stand with + quantities of shallow little drawers, some too full to open, others, + again, too full to shut; there was a movable platform to put sitters on, + covered with red cloth much disguised in dust; there was a small square + table of new deal, and a large round table of dilapidated rosewood, both + laden with sketch-books, portfolios, dog’s-eared sheets of drawing paper, + tin pots, scattered brushes, palette-knives, rags variously defiled by + paint and oil, pencils, chalks, port-crayons—the whole smelling + powerfully at all points of turpentine. + </p> + <p> + Finally, there were chairs in plenty, no one of which, however, at all + resembled the other. In one corner stood a moldy antique chair with a high + back, and a basin of dirty water on the seat. By the side of the fireplace + a cheap straw chair of the beehive pattern was tilted over against a + dining-room chair, with a horse-hair cushion. Before the largest of the + two pictures, and hard by a portable flight of steps, stood a rickety + office-stool. On the platform for sitters a modern easy chair, with the + cover in tatters, invited all models to picturesque repose. Close to the + rosewood table was placed a rocking-chair, and between the legs of the + deal table were huddled together a camp-stool and a hassock. In short, + every remarkable variety of the illustrious family of Seats was + represented in one corner or another of Mr. Blyth’s painting-room. + </p> + <p> + All the surplus small articles which shelves, tables, and chairs were + unable to accommodate, reposed in comfortable confusion on the floor. One + half at least of a pack of cards seemed to be scattered about in this way. + A shirt-collar, three gloves, a boot, a shoe, and half a slipper; a silk + stocking, and a pair of worsted muffetees; three old play-bills rolled + into a ball; a pencil-case, a paper-knife, a tooth-powder-box without a + lid, and a superannuated black-beetle trap turned bottom upwards, assisted + in forming part of the heterogeneous collection of rubbish strewed about + the studio floor. And worse than all—as tending to show that the + painter absolutely enjoyed his own disorderly habits—Mr. Blyth had + jocosely desecrated his art, by making it imitate litter where, in all + conscience, there was real litter enough already. Just in the way of + anybody entering the room, he had painted, on the bare floor, exact + representations of a new quill pen and a very expensive-looking sable + brush, lying all ready to be trodden upon by entering feet. Fresh visitors + constantly attested the skillfulness of these imitations by involuntarily + stooping to pick up the illusive pen and brush; Mr. Blyth always enjoying + the discomfiture and astonishment of every new victim, as thoroughly as if + the practical joke had been a perfectly new one on each successive + occasion. + </p> + <p> + Such was the interior condition of the painting-room, after the owner had + inhabited it for a period of little more than two months! + </p> + <p> + The church-clock of the suburb has just struck ten, when quick, light + steps approach the studio door. A gentleman enters—trips gaily over + the imitative pen and brush—and, walking up to the fire, begins to + warm his back at it, looking about him rather absently, and whistling + “Drops of Brandy” in the minor key. This gentleman is Mr. Valentine Blyth. + </p> + <p> + He looks under forty, but is really a little over fifty. His face is round + and rosy, and not marked by a single wrinkle in any part of it. He has + large, sparkling black eyes; wears neither whiskers, beard, nor mustache; + keeps his thick curly black hair rather too closely cut; and has a + briskly-comical kindness of expression in his face, which it is not easy + to contemplate for the first time without smiling at him. He is tall and + stout, always wears very tight trousers, and generally keeps his + wristbands turned up over the cuffs of his coat. All his movements are + quick and fidgety. He appears to walk principally on his toes, and seems + always on the point of beginning to dance, or jump, or run whenever he + moves about, either in or out of doors. When he speaks he has an odd habit + of ducking his head suddenly, and looking at the person whom he addresses + over his shoulder. These, and other little personal peculiarities of the + same undignified nature, all contribute to make him exactly that sort of + person whom everybody shakes hands with, and nobody bows to, on a first + introduction. Men instinctively choose him to be the recipient of a joke, + girls to be the male confidant of all flirtations which they like to talk + about, children to be their petitioner for the pardon of a fault, or the + reward of a half-holiday. On the other hand, he is decidedly unpopular + among that large class of Englishmen, whose only topics of conversation + are public nuisances and political abuses; for he resolutely looks at + everything on the bright side, and has never read a leading article or a + parliamentary debate in his life. In brief, men of business habits think + him a fool, and intellectual women with independent views cite him + triumphantly as an excellent specimen of the inferior male sex. + </p> + <p> + Still whistling, Mr. Blyth walks towards an earthen pipkin in one corner + of the studio, and takes from it a little china palette which he has + neglected to clean since he last used it. Looking round the room for some + waste paper, on which he can deposit the half-dried old paint that has + been scraped off with the palette knife, Mr. Blyth’s eyes happen to light + first on the deal table, and on four or five notes which lie scattered + over it. + </p> + <p> + These he thinks will suit his purpose as well as anything else, so he + takes up the notes, but before making use of them, reads their contents + over for the second time—partly by way of caution, partly though a + dawdling habit, which men of his absent disposition are always too ready + to contract. Three of these letters happen to be in the same scrambling, + blotted handwriting. They are none of them very long, and are the + production of a former acquaintance of the reader’s, who has somewhat + altered in height and personal appearance during the course of the last + fourteen years. Here is the first of the notes which Valentine is now + reading:— + </p> + <p> + “Dear Blyth,—My father says Theaters are the Devil’s Houses, and I + must be home by eleven o’clock. I’m sure I never did anything wrong at a + Theater, which I might not have done just the same anywhere else; unless + laughing over a good play is one of the <i>national sins</i> he’s always + talking about. I can’t stand it much longer, even for my mother’s sake! + You are my only friend. I shall come and see you to-morrow, so mind and be + at home. How I wish I was an artist! Yours ever, Z. THORPE, JUN.” + </p> + <p> + Shaking his head and smiling at the same time, Mr. Blyth finishes this + letter—drops a perfect puddle of dirty paint and turpentine in the + middle, over the words “national sins,” throws the paper into the fire—and + goes on to note number two: + </p> + <p> + “Dear Blyth,—I couldn’t come yesterday, because of another quarrel + at home, and my mother crying about it, of course. My father smelt tobacco + smoke at morning prayers. It was my coat, which I forgot to air at the + fire the night before; and he found it out, and said he wouldn’t have me + smoke, because it led to dissipation—but I told him (which is true) + that lots of parsons smoked. I wish you visited at our house, and could + come and say a word on my side. Dear Blyth, I am perfectly wretched; for I + have had all my cigars taken from me; and I am, yours truly, Z. THORPE, + JUN.” + </p> + <p> + A third note is required before the palette can be scraped clean. Mr. + Blyth reads the contents rather gravely on this occasion; rapidly + plastering his last morsels of waste paint upon the paper as he goes on, + until at length it looks as if it had been well peppered with all the + colors of the rainbow. + </p> + <p> + Zack’s third letter of complaint certainly promised serious domestic + tribulation for the ruling power at Baregrove Square:— + </p> + <p> + “Dear Blyth,—I have given in—at least for the present. I told + my father about my wanting to be an artist, and about your saying that I + had a good notion of drawing, and an eye for a likeness; but I might just + as well have talked to one of your easels. He means to make a man of + business of me. And here I have been, for the last three weeks, at a Tea + Broker’s office in the city, in consequence. They all say it’s a good + opening for me, and talk about the respectability of commercial pursuits. + I don’t want to be respectable, and I hate commercial pursuits. What is + the good of forcing me into a merchant’s office, when I can’t say my + Multiplication table? Ask my mother about that: <i>she’ll</i> tell you! + Only fancy me going round tea warehouses in filthy Jewish places like St. + Mary-Axe, to take samples, with a blue bag to carry them about in; and a + dirty junior clerk, who cleans his pen in his hair, to teach me how to + fold up parcels! Isn’t it enough to make my blood boil to think of it? I + can’t go on, and I won’t go on in this way! Mind you’re at home to-morrow; + I’m coming to speak to you about how I’m to begin learning to be an + artist. The junior clerk is going to do all my sampling work for me in the + morning; and we are to meet in the afternoon, after I have come away from + you, at a chop-house; and then go back to the office as if we had been + together all day, just as usual. Ever yours, Z. THORPE, JUN.—P. S. + My mind’s made up: if the worst comes to the worst, I shall leave home.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, dear me! oh, dear! dear me!” says Valentine, mournfully rubbing his + palette clean with a bit of rag. “What will it all end in, I wonder. Old + Thorpe’s going just the way, with his obstinate severity, to drive Zack to + something desperate. Coming here to-morrow, he says?” continues Mr. Blyth, + approaching the smallest of the two pictures, placed on easels at opposite + extremities of the room. “Coming to-morrow! He never dates his notes; but + I suppose, as this one came last night, to-morrow means to-day.” + </p> + <p> + Saying these words with eyes absently fixed on his picture, Valentine + withdraws the sheet stretched over the canvas, and discloses a Classical + Landscape of his own composition. + </p> + <p> + If Mr. Blyth had done nothing else in producing the picture which now + confronted him, he had at least achieved one great end of all Classic Art, + by reminding nobody of anything simple, familiar, or pleasing to them in + nature. In the foreground of his composition, were the three lanky ruined + columns, the dancing Bacchantes, the musing philosopher, the + mahogany-colored vegetation, and the bosky and branchless trees, with + which we have all been familiar, from our youth upwards, in “classical + compositions.” Down the middle of the scene ran that wonderful river, + which is always rippling with the same regular waves; and always bearing + onward the same capsizable galleys, with the same vermilion and blue + revelers striking lyres on the deck. On the bank where there was most room + for it, appeared our old, old friend, the architectural City, which nobody + could possibly live in; and which is composed of nothing but temples, + towers, monuments, flights of steps, and bewildering rows of pillars. In + the distance, our favorite blue mountains were as blue and as peaky as + ever, on Valentine’s canvas; and our generally-approved pale yellow sun + was still disfigured by the same attack of aerial jaundice, from which he + has suffered ever since classical compositions first forbade him to take + refuge from the sight behind a friendly cloud. + </p> + <p> + After standing before his picture in affectionate contemplation of its + beauties for a minute or so, Valentine resumes the business of preparing + his palette. + </p> + <p> + As the bee comes and goes irregularly from flower to flower; as the + butterfly flutters in a zig-zag course from one sunny place on the garden + wall to another—or, as an old woman runs from wrong omnibus to wrong + omnibus, at the Elephant and Castle, before she can discover the right + one; as a countryman blunders up one street, and down another, before he + can find the way to his place of destination in London—so does Mr. + Blyth now come and go, flutter, run, and blunder in a mighty hurry about + his studio, in search of missing colors which ought to be in his + painting-box, but which are not to be found there. While he is still + hunting through the room, his legs come into collision with a large + drawing-board on which there is a blank sheet of paper stretched. This + board seems to remind Mr. Blyth of some duty connected with it. He places + it against two chairs, in a good light; then approaching a shelf on which + some plaster-casts are arranged, takes down from it a bust of the Venus de + Medici—which bust he next places on his old office stool, opposite + to the two chairs and the drawing-board. Just as these preparations are + completed, the door of the studio opens, and a very important member of + the painter’s household—who has not yet been introduced to the + reader, and who is in no way related either to Valentine or his wife—enters + the room. + </p> + <p> + This mysterious resident under Mr. Blyth’s roof is a Young Lady. + </p> + <p> + She is dressed in very pretty, simple, Quaker-like attire. Her gown is of + a light-gray color, covered by a neat little black apron in front, and + fastened round the throat over a frill collar. The sleeves of this dress + are worn tight to the arm, and are terminated at the wrists by + quaint-looking cuffs of antique lace, the only ornamental morsels of + costume which she has on. It is impossible to describe how deliciously + soft, bright, fresh, pure, and delicate, this young lady is, merely as an + object to look at, contrasted with the dingy disorder of the studio-sphere + through which she now moves. The keenest observers, beholding her as she + at present appears, would detect nothing in her face or figure, her manner + or her costume, in the slightest degree suggestive of impenetrable + mystery, or incurable misfortune. And yet, she happens to be the only + person in Mr. Blyth’s household at whom prying glances are directed, + whenever she walks out; whose very existence is referred to by the + painter’s neighbors with an invariable accompaniment of shrugs, sighs, and + lamenting looks; and whose “case” is always compassionately designated as + “a sad one,” whenever it is brought forward, in the course of + conversation, at dinner-tables and tea-tables in the new suburb. + </p> + <p> + Socially, we may be all easily divided into two classes in this world—at + least in the civilized part of it. If we are not the people whom others + talk about, then we are sure to be the people who talk about others. The + young lady who had just entered Mr. Blyth’s painting-room, belonged to the + former order of human beings. + </p> + <p> + She seemed fated to be used as a constant subject of conversation by her + fellow-creatures. Even her face alone—simply as a face—could + not escape perpetual discussion; and that, too, among Valentine’s friends, + who all knew her well, and loved her dearly. It was the oddest thing in + the world, but no one of them could ever agree with another (except on a + certain point, to be presently mentioned) as to which of her personal + attractions ought to be first selected for approval, or quoted as + particularly asserting her claims to the admiration of all worshippers of + beauty. + </p> + <p> + To take three or four instances of this. There was Mr. Gimble, the civil + little picture-dealers and a very good friend in every way to Valentine: + there was Mr. Gimble, who declared that her principal charm was in her + complexion—her fair, clear, wonderful complexion—which he + would defy any artist alive to paint, let him try ever so hard, or be ever + so great a man. Then came the Dowager Countess of Brambledown, the + frolicsome old aristocrat, who was generally believed to be “a little + cracked;” who haunted Mr. Blyth’s studio, after having once given him an + order to paint her rare China tea-service, and her favorite muff, in one + group; and who differed entirely from the little picture-dealer. + “Fiddle-de-dee!” cried her ladyship, scornfully, on hearing Mr. Gimble’s + opinion quoted one day. “The man may know something about pictures, but he + is an idiot about women. Her complexions indeed! I could make as good a + complexion for myself (we old women are painters too, in our way, Blyth). + Don’t tell me about her complexion—it’s her eyes! her incomparable + blue eyes, which would have driven the young men of <i>my</i> time mad—mad, + I give you my word of honor! Not a gentleman, sir, in my youthful days—and + they <i>were</i> gentlemen then—but would have been too happy to run + away with her for her eyes alone; and what’s more, to have shot any man + who said as much as ‘Stop him!’ Complexion, indeed, Mr. Gimble? I’ll + complexion you, next time I find my way into your picture-gallery! Take a + pinch of snuff, Blyth; and never repeat nonsense in my hearing again.” + </p> + <p> + There was Mr. Bullivant, the enthusiastic young sculptor, with the mangy + flow of flaxen hair, and the plump, waxy face, who wrote poetry, and + showed, by various sonnets, that he again differed completely about the + young lady from the Dowager Countess of Brambledown and Mr. Gimble. This + gentleman sang fluently, on paper—using, by the way, a professional + epithet—about her “chiselled mouth”, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Which breathed of rapture and the balmy South.” + </pre> + <p> + He expatiated on + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Her sweet lips smiling at her dimpled chin, + Whose wealth of kisses gods might long to win—” + </pre> + <p> + and much more to the same maudlin effect. In plain prose, the ardent + Bullivant was all for the lower part of the young lady’s face, and + actually worried her, and Mr. Blyth, and everybody in the house, until he + got leave to take a cast of it. + </p> + <p> + Lastly, there was Mrs. Blyth’s father; a meek old gentleman, with a + continual cold in the head; who lived on marvelously to the utmost verge + of human existence—as very poor men, with very large families, who + would be much better out of this world than in it, very often do. There + was this low-speaking, mildly-infirm, and perpetually-snuffling engraver, + who, on being asked to mention what he most admired in her, answered that + he thought it was her hair, “which was of such a nice light brown color; + or, perhaps, it might be the pleasant way in which she carried her head, + or, perhaps, her shoulders—or, perhaps, her head <i>and</i> + shoulders, both together. Not that his opinion was good for much in tasty + matters of this kind, for which reason he begged to apologize for + expressing it at all.” In speaking thus of his opinion, the worthy + engraver surely depreciated himself most unjustly: for, if the father of + eight daughters cannot succeed in learning (philoprogenitively speaking) + to be a good judge of women, what man can? + </p> + <p> + However, there was one point on which Mr. Gimble, Lady Brambledown, Mr. + Bullivant, Mrs. Blyth’s father, and hosts of friends besides, were all + agreed, without one discordant exception. + </p> + <p> + They unanimously asserted that the young lady’s face was the nearest + living approach they had ever seen to that immortal “Madonna” face, which + has for ever associated the idea of beauty with the name of RAPHAEL. The + resemblance struck everybody alike, even those who were but slightly + conversant with pictures, the moment they saw her. Taken in detail, her + features might be easily found fault with. Her eyes might be pronounced + too large, her mouth too small, her nose not Grecian enough for some + people’s tastes. But the general effect of these features, the shape of + her head and face, and especially her habitual expression, reminded all + beholders at once, and irresistibly, of that image of softness, purity, + and feminine gentleness, which has been engraven on all civilized memories + by the “Madonnas” of Raphael. + </p> + <p> + It was in consequence of this extraordinary resemblance, that her own + English name of Mary had been, from the first, altered and Italianized by + Mr. and Mrs. Blyth, and by all intimate friends, into “Madonna.” One or + two extremely strict and extremely foolish people objected to any such + familiar application of this name, as being open, in certain directions, + to an imputation of irreverence. Mr. Blyth was not generally very quick at + an answer; but, on this occasion, he had three answers ready before the + objections were quite out of his friends’ mouths. + </p> + <p> + In the first place, he said that he and his friends used the name only in + an artist-sense, and only with reference to Raphael’s pictures. In the + next place, he produced an Italian dictionary, and showed that “Madonna” + had a second meaning in the language, signifying simply and literally, “My + lady.” And, in conclusion, he proved historically, that “Madonna” had been + used in the old times as a prefix to the names of Italian women; quoting, + for example, “Madonna Pia,” whom he happened to remember just at that + moment, from having once painted a picture from one of the scenes of her + terrible story. These statements silenced all objections; and the young + lady was accordingly much better known in the painter’s house as “Madonna” + than as “Mary.” + </p> + <p> + On now entering the studio, she walked up to Valentine, laid a hand + lightly on each of his shoulders, and so lifted herself to be kissed on + the forehead. Then she looked down on his palette, and observing that some + colors were still missing from it, began to search for them directly in + the painting-box. She found them in a moment, and appealed to Mr. Blyth + with an arch look of inquiry and triumph. He nodded, smiled, and held out + his palette for her to put the colors on it herself. Having done this very + neatly and delicately, she next looked round the room, and at once + observed the bust of Venus placed on the office stool. + </p> + <p> + At the same time, Mr. Blyth, who saw the direction taken by her eyes, + handed to her a port-crayon with some black chalk, which he had been + carefully cutting to a point for the last minute or two. She took it with + a little mock curtsey, pouting her lip slightly, as if drawing the Venus + was work not much to her taste—smiled when she saw Valentine shaking + his head, and frowning comically at her—then went away at once to + the drawing-board, and sat down opposite Venus, in which position she + offered as decided a living contradiction as ever was seen to the + assertion of the classical idea of beauty, as expressed in the cast that + she was about to copy. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Blyth, on his side, set to work at last on the Landscape; painting + upon the dancing Bacchantes in the foreground of his picture, whose scanty + dresses stood sadly in need of a little brightening up. While the painter + and the young lady are thus industriously occupied with the business of + the studio, there is leisure to remark on one rather perplexing + characteristic of their intercourse, so far as it has yet proceeded on + this particular winter’s morning. + </p> + <p> + Ever since Madonna has been in the room, not one word has she spoken to + Valentine; and not one word has Valentine (who can talk glibly enough to + himself) spoken to her. He never said “Good morning,” when he kissed her—or, + “Thank you for finding my lost colors,”—or, “I have set the Venus, + my dear, for your drawing lesson to-day.” And she, woman as she is, has + actually not asked him a single question, since she entered the studio! + What can this absolute and remarkable silence mean between two people who + look as affectionately on each other as these two look, every time their + eyes meet! + </p> + <p> + Is this one of the Mysteries of the painter’s fireside? + </p> + <p> + Who is Madonna? + </p> + <p> + What is her real name besides Mary? + </p> + <p> + Is it Mary Blyth? + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + Some years ago, an extraordinary adventure happened to Valentine in the + circus of an itinerant Equestrian Company. In that adventure, and in the + strange results attending it, the clue lies hidden, which leads to the + Mystery of the painter’s fireside, and reveals the story of this book. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. MADONNA’S CHILDHOOD. + </h2> + <p> + In the autumn of 1838, Mrs. Blyth’s malady had for some time past assumed + the permanent form from which it seldom afterwards varied. She now + suffered little actual pain, except when she quitted a recumbent posture. + But the general disorganization produced by almost exclusive confinement + to one position, had, even at this early period, begun to work sad changes + in her personal appearance. She suffered that mortifying misfortune just + as bravely and resignedly as she had suffered the first great calamity of + her incurable disorder. Valentine never showed that he thought her + altered; Valentine’s kindness was just as affectionate and as constant as + it had ever been in the happier days of their marriage. So encouraged, + Lavinia had the heart to bear all burdens patiently; and could find + sources of happiness for herself, where others could discover nothing but + causes for grief. + </p> + <p> + The room she inhabited was already, through Valentine’s self-denying + industry, better furnished than any other room in the house; but was far + from presenting the same appearance of luxury and completeness to which it + attained in the course of after-years. + </p> + <p> + The charming maple-wood and ivory bookcase, with the prettily-bound + volumes ranged in such bright regularity along its shelves, was there + certainly, as early as the autumn of 1838. It would not, however, at that + time have formed part of the furniture of Mrs. Blyth’s room, if her + husband had not provided himself with the means of paying for it, by + accepting a certain professional invitation to the country, which he knew + before, and would enable him to face the terrors of the upholsterer’s + bill. + </p> + <p> + The invitation in question had been sent to him by a clerical friend, the + Reverend Doctor Joyce, Rector of St. Judy’s, in the large agricultural + town of Rubbleford. Valentine had produced a water-color drawing of one of + the Doctor’s babies, when the family at the Rectory were in London for a + season, and this drawing had been shown to all the neighbors by the worthy + clergyman on his return. Now, although Mr. Blyth was not over-successful + in the adult department of portrait-art, he was invariably victorious in + the infant department. He painted all babies on one ingenious plan; giving + them the roundest eyes, the chubbiest red cheeks, the most serenely + good-humored smiles, and the neatest and whitest caps ever seen on paper. + If fathers and their male friends rarely appreciated the fidelity of his + likenesses, mothers and nurses invariably made amends for their want of + taste. It followed, therefore, almost as a matter of course, that the + local exhibition of the Doctor’s drawing must bring offers of + long-clothes-portrait employment to Valentine. Three resident families + decided immediately to have portraits of their babies, if the painter + would only travel to their houses to take the likenesses. A bachelor + sporting squire in the neighborhood also volunteered a commission of + another sort. This gentleman arrived (by a logical process which it is + hopeless to think of tracing) at the conclusion, that a man who was great + at babies, must necessarily be marvelous at horses; and determined, in + consequence, that Valentine should paint his celebrated cover-hack. In + writing to inform his friend of these offers, Doctor Joyce added another + professional order on his own account, by way of appropriate conclusion to + his letter. Here, then, were five commissions, which would produce enough—cheaply + as Valentine worked—to pay, not only for the new bookcase, but for + the books to put in it when it came home. + </p> + <p> + Having left his wife in charge of two of her sisters, who were forbidden + to leave the house till his return, Mr. Blyth started for the rectory; and + once there, set to work on the babies with a zeal and good-humor which + straightway won the hearts of mothers and nurses, and made him a great + Rubbleford reputation in the course of a few days. Having done the babies + to admiration, he next undertook the bachelor squire’s hack. Here he had + some trouble. The sporting gentleman would look over him while he painted; + would bewilder him with the pedigree of the horse; would have the animal + done in the most unpicturesque view; and sternly forbade all introduction + of “tone,” “light and shade,” or purely artistic embellishment of any + kind, in any part of the canvas. In short, the squire wanted a sign-board + instead of a picture, and he at last got what he wanted to his heart’s + content. + </p> + <p> + One evening, while Valentine—still deeply immersed in the + difficulties of depicting the cover-hack—was returning to the + Rectory, after a day’s work at the Squire’s house, his attention was + suddenly attracted in the high street of Rubbleford, by a flaming placard + pasted up on a dead wall opposite the market-house. + </p> + <p> + He immediately joined the crowd of rustics congregated round the + many-colored and magnificent sheet of paper, and read at the top of it, in + huge blue letters:—“JUBBER’S CIRCUS. THE EIGHTH WONDER OF THE + WORLD.” After this came some small print, which nobody lost any time in + noticing. But below the small print appeared a perfect galaxy of + fancifully shaped scarlet letters, which fascinated all eyes, and informed + the public that the equestrian company included “MISS FLORINDA BEVERLEY, + known,” (here the letters turned suddenly green) “wherever the English + language was known, as The Amazonian Empress of Equitation.” This + announcement was followed by the names of inferior members of the Company; + by a program of the evening’s entertainments; by testimonials extracted + from the provincial press; by illustrations of gentlemen with lusty calves + and spangled drawers, and of ladies with smiling faces, shameless + petticoats, and pirouetting legs. These illustrations, and the particulars + which preceded them were carefully digested by all Mr. Blyth’s neighbors; + but Mr. Blyth himself passed them over unnoticed. His eye had been caught + by something at the bottom of the placard, which instantly absorbed his + whole attention. + </p> + <p> + In this place the red letters appeared again, and formed the following + words and marks of admiration:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + THE MYSTERIOUS FOUNDLING! + AGED TEN YEARS!! + TOTALLY DEAF AND DUMB!!! +</pre> + <p> + Underneath came an explanation of what the red letters referred to, + occupying no less than three paragraphs of stumpy small print, every word + of which Valentine eagerly devoured. This is what he read:— + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Jubber, as proprietor of the renowned Circus, has the honor of + informing the nobility, gentry, and public, that the above wonderful Deaf + and Dumb Female Child will appear between the first and second parts of + the evening’s performances. Mr. J. has taken the liberty of entitling this + Marvel of Nature, The Mysterious Foundling; no one knowing who her father + is, and her mother having died soon after her birth, leaving her in charge + of the Equestrian Company, who have been fond parents and careful + guardians to her ever since. + </p> + <p> + “She was originally celebrated in the annals of Jubber’s Circus, or Eighth + Wonder of the World, as The Hurricane Child of the Desert; having appeared + in that character, whirled aloft at the age of seven years in the hand of + Muley Ben Hassan, the renowned Scourer of Sahara, in his daring act of + Equitation, as exhibited to the terror of all England, in Jubber’s Circus. + At that time she had her hearing and speech quite perfect. But Mr. J. + deeply regrets to state that a terrific accident happened to her soon + afterwards. Through no fault on the part of The Scourer (who, overcome by + his feelings at the result of the above-mentioned frightful accident, has + gone back to his native wilds a moody and broken-hearted man), she slipped + from his hand while the three horses bestrode by the fiery but humane Arab + were going at a gallop, and fell, shocking to relate, outside the Ring, on + the boarded floor of the Circus. She was supposed to be dead. Mr. Jubber + instantly secured the inestimable assistance of the Faculty, who found + that she was still alive, and set her arm, which had been broken. It was + only afterwards discovered that she had utterly lost her sense of hearing. + To use the emphatic language of the medical gentlemen (who all spoke with + tears in their eyes), she had been struck stone deaf by the shock. Under + these melancholy circumstances, it was found that the faculty of speech + soon failed her altogether; and she is now therefore Totally Deaf AND Dumb—but + Mr. J. rejoices to say, quite cheerful and in good health notwithstanding. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Jubber being himself the father of a family, ventures to think that + these little particulars may prove of some interest to an Intelligent, a + Sympathetic, and a Benevolent Public. He will simply allude, in + conclusion, to the performances of the Mysterious Foundling, as exhibiting + perfection hitherto unparalleled in the Art of Legerdemain, with wonders + of untraceable intricacy on the cards, originally the result of abstruse + calculations made by that renowned Algebraist, Mohammed Engedi, extending + over a period of ten years, dating from the year 1215 of the Arab + Chronology. More than this Mr. Jubber will not venture to mention, for + ‘Seeing is Believing,’ and the Mysterious Foundling must be seen to be + believed. For prices of admission consult bottom of bill.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Blyth read this grotesquely shocking narrative with sentiments which + were anything rather than complimentary to the taste, the delicacy, and + the humanity of the fluent Mr. Jubber. He consulted the bottom of the + bill, however, as requested; and ascertained what were the prices of + admission—then glanced at the top, and observed that the first + performance was fixed for that very evening—looked about him + absently for a minute or two—and resolved to be present at it. + </p> + <p> + Most assuredly, Valentine’s resolution did not proceed from that dastard + insensibility to all decent respect for human suffering which could feast + itself on the spectacle of calamity paraded for hire, in the person of a + deaf and dumb child of ten years old. His motives for going to the circus + were stained by no trace of such degradation as this. But what were they + then? That question he himself could not have answered: it was a common + predicament with him not to know his own motives, generally from not + inquiring into them. There are men who run breathlessly—men who walk + cautiously—and men who saunter easily through the journey of life. + Valentine belonged to the latter class; and, like the rest of his order, + often strayed down a new turning, without being able to realize at the + time what purpose it was which first took him that way. Our destinies + shape the future for us out of strange materials: a traveling circus + sufficed them, in the first instance, to shape a new future for Mr. Blyth. + </p> + <p> + He first went on to the Rectory to tell them where he was going, and to + get a cup of tea, and then hurried off to the circus, in a field outside + the town. + </p> + <p> + The performance had begun some time when he got in. The Amazonian Empress + (known otherwise as Miss Florinda Beverley) was dancing voluptuously on + the back of a cantering piebald horse with a Roman nose. Round and round + careered the Empress, beating time on the saddle with her imperial legs to + the tune of “Let the Toast be Dear Woman,” played with intense feeling by + the band. Suddenly the melody changed to “See the Conquering Hero Comes;” + the piebald horse increased his speed; the Empress raised a flag in one + hand, and a javelin in the other, and began slaying invisible enemies in + the empty air, at full (circus) gallop. The result on the audience was + prodigious; Mr. Blyth alone sat unmoved. Miss Florinda Beverley was not + even a good model to draw legs from, in the estimation of this + anti-Amazonian painter! + </p> + <p> + When the Empress was succeeded by a Spanish Guerilla, who robbed, + murdered, danced, caroused, and made love on the back of a cream-colored + horse—and when the Guerilla was followed by a clown who performed + superhuman contortions, and made jokes by the yard, without the slightest + appearance of intellectual effort—still Mr. Blyth exhibited no + demonstration of astonishment or pleasure. It was only when a bell rang + between the first and second parts of the performance, and the band struck + up “Gentle Zitella,” that he showed any symptoms of animation. Then he + suddenly rose; and, moving down to a bench close against the low partition + which separated the ring from the audience, fixed his eyes intently on a + doorway opposite to him, overhung by a frowzy red curtain with a tinsel + border. + </p> + <p> + From this doorway there now appeared Mr. Jubber himself, clothed in white + trousers with a gold stripe, and a green jacket with military epaulettes. + He had big, bold eyes, a dyed mustache, great fat, flabby cheeks, long + hair parted in the middle, a turn-down collar with a rose-colored + handkerchief; and was, in every respect, the most atrocious looking stage + vagabond that ever painted a blackguard face. He led with him, holding her + hand, the little deaf and dumb girl, whose misfortune he had advertised to + the whole population of Rubbleford. + </p> + <p> + The face and manner of the child, as she walked into the center of the + circus, and made her innocent curtsey and kissed her hand, went to the + hearts of the whole audience in an instant. They greeted her with such a + burst of applause as might have frightened a grown actress. But not a note + from those cheering voices, not a breath of sound from those loudly + clapping hands could reach her; she could see that they were welcoming her + kindly, and that was all! + </p> + <p> + When the applause had subsided, Mr. Jubber asked for the loan of a + handkerchief from one of the ladies present, and ostentatiously bandaged + the child’s eyes. He then lifted her upon the broad low wall which + encircled the ring, and walked her round a little way (beginning from the + door through which he had entered), inviting the spectators to test her + total deafness by clapping their hands, shouting, or making any loud noise + they pleased close at her ear. “You might fire off a cannon, ladies and + gentlemen,” said Mr. Jubber, “and it wouldn’t make her start till after + she’d smelt the smoke!” + </p> + <p> + To the credit of the Rubbleford audience, the majority of them declined + making any practical experiments to test the poor child’s utter deafness. + The women set the example of forbearance, by entreating that the + handkerchief might be taken off so that they might see her pretty eyes + again. This was done at once, and she began to perform her conjuring + tricks with Mr. Jubber and one of the ring-keepers on either side of her, + officiating as assistants. These tricks, in themselves, were of the + simplest and commonest kind; and derived all their attraction from the + child’s innocently earnest manner of exhibiting them, and from the novelty + to the audience of communicating with her only by writing on a slate. They + never tired of scrawling questions, of saying “poor little thing!” and of + kissing her whenever they could get the opportunity, while she slowly went + round the circus. “Deaf and dumb! ah, dear, dear, deaf and dumb!” was the + general murmur of sympathy which greeted her from each new group, as she + advanced; Mr. Jubber invariably adding with a smile: “And as you see, + ladies and gentlemen, in excellent health and spirits, notwithstanding: as + hearty and happy, I pledge you my sacred word of honor, as the very best + of us!” + </p> + <p> + While she was thus delighting the spectators on one side of the circus, + how were the spectators on the other side, whose places she had not yet + reached, contriving to amuse themselves? + </p> + <p> + From the moment of the little girl’s first appearance, ample recreation + had been unconsciously provided for them by a tall, stout, and florid + stranger, who appeared suddenly to lose his senses the moment he set eyes + on the deaf and dumb child. This gentleman jumped up and sat down again + excitably a dozen times in a minute; constantly apologizing on being + called to order, and constantly repeating the offense the moment + afterwards. Mad and mysterious words, never heard before in Rubbleford, + poured from his lips. “Devotional beauty,” “Fra Angelico’s angels,” + “Giotto and the cherubs,” “Enough to bring the divine Raphael down from + heaven to paint her.” Such were a few fragments of the mad gentleman’s + incoherent mutterings, as they reached his neighbors’ ears. The amusement + they yielded was soon wrought to its climax by a joke from an attorney’s + clerk, who suggested that this queer man, with the rosy face, must + certainly be the long-lost father of the “Mysterious Foundling!” Great + gratification was consequently anticipated from what might take place when + the child arrived opposite the bench occupied by the excitable stranger. + </p> + <p> + Slowly, slowly, the little light figure went round upon the broad + partition wall of the ring, until it came near, very near, to the place + where Valentine was sitting. + </p> + <p> + Ah, woeful sight! so lovely, yet so piteous to look on! Shall she never + hear kindly human voices, the song of birds, the pleasant murmur of the + trees again? Are all the sweet sounds that sing of happiness to childhood, + silent for ever to <i>her?</i> From those fresh, rosy lips shall no glad + words pour forth, when she runs and plays in the sunshine? Shall the + clear, laughing tones be hushed always? the young, tender life be for ever + a speechless thing, shut up in dumbness from the free world of voices? Oh! + Angel of judgment! hast thou snatched her hearing and her speech from this + little child, to abandon her in helpless affliction to such profanation as + she now undergoes? Oh, Spirit of mercy! how long thy white-winged feet + have tarried on their way to this innocent sufferer, to this lost lamb + that cannot cry to the fold for help! Lead, ah, lead her tenderly to such + shelter as she has never yet found for herself! Guide her, pure as she is + now, from this tainted place to pleasant pastures, where the sunshine of + human kindness shall be clouded no more, and Love and Pity shall temper + every wind that blows over her with the gentleness of perpetual spring! + </p> + <p> + Slowly, slowly, the light figure went round the great circle of gazers, + ministering obediently to their pleasure, waiting patiently till their + curiosity was satisfied. And now, her weary pilgrimage was well nigh over + for the night. She had arrived at the last group of spectators who had yet + to see what she looked like close, and what tricks she could exhibit with + her cards. + </p> + <p> + She stopped exactly opposite to Valentine; and when she looked up, she + looked on him alone. + </p> + <p> + Was there something in the eager sympathy of his eyes as they met hers, + which spoke to the little lonely heart in the sole language that could + ever reach it? Did the child, with the quick instinct of the deaf and + dumb, read his compassionate disposition, his pity and longing to help + her, in his expression at that moment? It might have been so. Her pretty + lips smiled on him as they had smiled on no one else that night; and when + she held out some cards to be chosen from, she left unnoticed the eager + hands extended on either side of her, and presented them to Valentine + only. + </p> + <p> + He saw the small fingers trembling as they held the cards; he saw the + delicate little shoulders and the poor frail neck and chest bedizened with + tawdry mock jewelry and spangles; he saw the innocent young face, whose + pure beauty no soil of stage paint could disfigure, with the smile still + on the parted lips, but with a patient forlornness in the sad blue eyes, + as if the seeing-sense that was left, mourned always for the hearing and + speaking senses that were gone—he marked all these things in an + instant, and felt that his heart was sinking as he looked. A dimness stole + over his sight; a suffocating sensation oppressed his breathing; the + lights in the circus danced and mingled together; he bent down over the + child’s hand, and took it in his own; twice kissed it fervently; then, to + the utter amazement of the laughing crowd about him, rose up suddenly, and + forced his way out as if he had been flying for his life. + </p> + <p> + There was a momentary confusion among the audience. But Mr. Jubber was too + old an adept in stage-business of all kinds not to know how to stop the + growing tumult directly, and turn it into universal applause. + </p> + <p> + “Ladies and gentlemen,” he cried, with a deep theatrical quiver in his + voice—“I implore you to be seated, and to excuse the conduct of the + party who has just absented himself. The talent of the Mysterious + Foundling has overcome people in that way in every town of England. Do I + err in believing that a Rubbleford audience can make kind allowances for + their weaker fellow-creatures? Thanks, a thousand thanks in the name of + this darling and talented child, for your cordial, your generous, your + affectionate, your inestimable reception of her exertions to-night!” With + this peroration Mr. Jubber took his pupil out of the ring, amid the most + vehement cheering and waving of hats and handkerchiefs. He was too much + excited by his triumph to notice that the child, as she walked after him, + looked wistfully to the last in the direction by which Valentine had gone + out. + </p> + <p> + “The public like excitement,” soliloquized Mr. Jubber, as he disappeared + behind the red curtain. “I must have all this in the bills to-morrow. It’s + safe to draw at least thirty shillings extra into the house at night.” + </p> + <p> + In the meantime, Valentine, after some blundering at wrong doors, at last + found his way out of the circus, and stood alone on the cool grass, in the + cloudless autumn moonlight. He struck his stick violently on the ground, + which at that moment represented to him the head of Mr. Jubber; and was + about to return straight to the rectory, when he heard a breathless voice + behind him, calling:—“Stop, sir! oh, do please stop for one minute!” + </p> + <p> + He turned round. A buxom woman in a tawdry and tattered gown was running + towards him as fast as her natural impediments to quick progression would + permit. + </p> + <p> + “Please, sir,” she cried—“Please, sir, wasn’t you the gentleman that + was taken queer at seeing our little Foundling? I was peeping through the + red curtain, sir, just at the time.” + </p> + <p> + Instead of answering the question, Valentine instantly began to rhapsodize + about the child’s face. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sir! if you know anything about her,” interposed the woman, “for + God’s sake don’t scruple to tell it to me! I’m only Mrs. Peckover, sir, + the wife of Jemmy Peckover, the clown, that you saw in the circus + to-night. But I took and nursed the little thing by her poor mother’s own + wish; and ever since that time—” + </p> + <p> + “My dear, good soul,” said Mr. Blyth, “I know nothing of the poor little + creature. I only wish from the bottom of my heart that I could do + something to help her and make her happy. If Lavvie and I had had such an + angel of a child as that,” continued Valentine, clasping his hands + together fervently, “deaf and dumb as she is, we should have thanked God + for her every day of our lives!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Peckover was apparently not much used to hear such sentiments as + these from strangers. She stared up at Mr. Blyth with two big tears + rolling over her plump cheeks. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Peckover! Hullo there, Peck! where are you?” roared a stern voice + from the stable department of the circus, just as the clown’s wife seemed + about to speak again. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Peckover started, curtsied, and, without uttering another word, went + back even faster than she had come out. Valentine looked after her + intently, but made no attempt to follow: he was thinking too much of the + child to think of that. When he moved again, it was to return to the + rectory. + </p> + <p> + He penetrated at once into the library, where Doctor Joyce was spelling + over the “Rubbleford Mercury,” while Mrs. Joyce sat opposite to him, + knitting a fancy jacket for her youngest but one. He was hardly inside the + door before he began to expatiate in the wildest manner on the subject of + the beautiful deaf and dumb girl. If ever man was in love with a child at + first sight, he was that man. As an artist, as a gentleman of refined + tastes, and as the softest-hearted of male human beings, in all three + capacities, he was enslaved by that little innocent, sad face. He made the + Doctor’s head whirl again; he fairly stopped Mrs. Joyce’s progress with + the fancy jacket, as he sang the child’s praises, and compared her face to + every angel’s face that had ever been painted, from the days of Giotto to + the present time. At last, when he had fairly exhausted his hearers and + himself, he dashed abruptly out of the room, to cool down his excitement + by a moonlight walk in the rectory garden. + </p> + <p> + “What a very odd man he is!” said Mrs. Joyce, taking up a dropped stitch + in the fancy jacket. + </p> + <p> + “Valentine, my love, is the best creature in the world,” rejoined the + doctor, folding up the Rubbleford Mercury, and directing it for the post; + “but, as I often used to tell his poor father (who never would believe + me), a little cracked. I’ve known him go on in this way about children + before—though I must own, not quite so wildly, perhaps, as he talked + just now.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think he’ll do anything imprudent about the child? Poor thing! I’m + sure I pity her as heartily as anybody can.” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t presume to think,” answered the doctor, calmly pressing the + blotting-paper over the address he had just written. “Valentine is one of + those people who defy all conjecture. No one can say what he will do, or + what he won’t. A man who cannot resist an application for shelter and + supper from any stray cur who wags his tail at him in the street; a man + who blindly believes in the troubles of begging-letter impostors; a man + whom I myself caught, last time he was down here, playing at marbles with + three of my charity-boys in the street, and promising to treat them to + hardbake and gingerbeer afterwards, is—in short, is not a man whose + actions it is possible to speculate on.” + </p> + <p> + Here the door opened, and Mr. Blyth’s head was popped in, surmounted by a + ragged straw hat with a sky-blue ribbon round it. “Doctor,” said + Valentine, “may I ask an excellent woman, with whom I have made + acquaintance, to bring the child here to-morrow morning for you and Mrs. + Joyce to see?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” said the good-humored rector, laughing. “The child by all + means, and the excellent woman too.” + </p> + <p> + “Not if it’s Miss Florinda Beverley!” interposed Mrs. Joyce (who had read + the Circus placard). “Florinda, indeed! Jezebel would be a better name for + her!” + </p> + <p> + “My dear Madam, it isn’t Florinda,” cried Valentine, eagerly. “I quite + agree with you; her name ought to be Jezebel. And, what’s worse, her legs + are out of drawing.” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Blyth!!!” exclaimed Mrs. Joyce, indignant at this professional + criticism on Jezebel’s legs. + </p> + <p> + “Why don’t you tell us at once who the excellent woman is?” cried the + doctor, secretly tickled by the allusion which had shocked his wife. + </p> + <p> + “Her name’s Peckover,” said Valentine; “she’s a respectable married woman; + she doesn’t ride in the circus at all; and she nursed the poor child by + her mother’s own wish.” + </p> + <p> + “We shall be delighted to see her to-morrow,” said the warm-hearted rector—“or, + no—stop! Not to-morrow; I shall be out. The day after. Cake and + cowslip wine for the deaf and dumb child at twelve o’clock—eh, my + dear?” + </p> + <p> + “That’s right! God bless you! you’re always kindness itself,” cried + Valentine; “I’ll find out Mrs. Peckover, and let her know. Not a wink of + sleep for me to-night—never mind!” Here Valentine suddenly shut the + door, then as suddenly opened it again, and added, “I mean to finish that + infernal horse-picture to-morrow, and go to the circus again in the + evening.” With these words he vanished; and they heard him soon afterwards + whistling his favorite “Drops of Brandy,” in the rectory garden. + </p> + <p> + “Cracked! cracked!” cried the doctor. “Dear old Valentine!” + </p> + <p> + “I’m afraid his principles are very loose,” said Mrs. Joyce, whose + thoughts still ran on the unlucky professional allusion to Jezebel’s legs. + </p> + <p> + The next morning, when Mr. Blyth presented himself at the stables, and + went on with the portrait of the cover-hack, the squire had no longer the + slightest reason to complain of the painter’s desire to combine in his + work picturesqueness of effect with accuracy of resemblance. Valentine + argued no longer about introducing “light and shade,” or “keeping the + background subdued in tone.” His thoughts were all with the deaf and dumb + child and Mrs. Peckover; and he smudged away recklessly, just as he was + told, without once uttering so much as a word of protest. By the evening + he had concluded his labor. The squire said it was one of the best + portraits of a horse that had ever been taken: to which piece of criticism + the writer of the present narrative is bound in common candor to add, that + it was also the very worst picture that Mr. Blyth had ever painted. + </p> + <p> + On returning to Rubbleford, Valentine proceeded at once to the circus; + placing himself, as nearly as he could, in the same position which he had + occupied the night before. + </p> + <p> + The child was again applauded by the whole audience, and again went + through her performance intelligently and gracefully, until she approached + the place where Valentine was standing. She started as she recognized his + face, and made a step forward to get nearer to him; but was stopped by Mr. + Jubber, who saw that the people immediately in front of her were holding + out their hands to write on her slate, and have her cards dealt round to + them in their turn. The child’s attention appeared to be distracted by + seeing the stranger again who had kissed her hand so fervently—she + began to look confused—and ended by committing an open and most + palpable blunder in the very first trick that she performed. + </p> + <p> + The spectators good-naturedly laughed, and some of them wrote on her + slate, “Try again, little girl.” Mr. Jubber made an apology, saying that + the extreme enthusiasm of the reception accorded to his pupil had shaken + her nerves; and then signed to her, with a benevolent smile, but with a + very sinister expression in his eyes, to try another trick. She succeeded + in this; but still showed so much hesitation, that Mr. Jubber, fearing + another failure, took her away with him while there was a chance of making + a creditable exit. + </p> + <p> + As she was led across the ring, the child looked intently at Valentine. + </p> + <p> + There was terror in her eyes—terror palpable enough to be remarked + by some of the careless people near Mr. Blyth. “Poor little thing! she + seems frightened at the man in the fine green jacket,” said one. “And not + without cause, I dare say,” added another. “You don’t mean that he could + ever be brute enough to ill use a child like that?—it’s impossible!” + cried a third. + </p> + <p> + At this moment the clown entered the ring. The instant before he shouted + the well-known “Here we are!” Valentine thought he heard a strange cry + behind the red curtain. He was not certain about it, but the mere doubt + made his blood run chill. He listened for a minute anxiously. There was no + chance now, however, for testing the correctness of his suspicion. The + band had struck up a noisy jig tune, and the clown was capering and + tumbling wonderfully, amid roars of laughter. + </p> + <p> + “This may be my fault,” thought Valentine. <i>“This!</i> What?” He was + afraid to pursue that inquiry. His ruddy face suddenly turned pale; and he + left the circus, determined to find out what was really going on behind + the red curtain. + </p> + <p> + He walked round the outside of the building, wasting some time before he + found a door to apply at for admission. At last he came to a sort of a + passage, with some tattered horse-cloths hanging over its outer entrance. + </p> + <p> + “You can’t come in here,” said a shabby lad, suddenly appearing from the + inside in his shirt sleeves. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Blyth took out half-a-crown. “I want to see the deaf and dumb child + directly!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, all right! go in,” muttered the lad, pocketing the money greedily. + </p> + <p> + Valentine hastily entered the passage. As soon as he was inside, a sound + reached his ears at which his heart sickened and turned faint. No words + can describe it in all the horror of its helplessness—it was the + moan of pain from a dumb human creature. + </p> + <p> + He thrust aside a curtain, and stood in a filthy place, partitioned off + from the stables on one side, and the circus on the other, with canvas and + old boards. There, on a wooden stool, sat the woman who had accosted him + the night before, crying, and soothing the child, who lay shuddering on + her bosom. The sobs of the clown’s wife mingled with the inarticulate + wailing, so low, yet so awful to hear; and both sounds were audible with a + fearful, unnatural distinctness, through the merry melody of the jig, and + the peals of hearty laughter from the audience in the circus. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, my God!” cried Valentine, horror-struck at what he heard, “stop her! + don’t let her moan in that way!” + </p> + <p> + The woman started from her seat, and put the child down, then recognized + Mr. Blyth and rushed up to him. + </p> + <p> + “Hush!” she whispered eagerly, “don’t call out like that! The villain, the + brutal, heartless villain is somewhere about the stables. If he hears you, + he’ll come in and beat her again.—Oh, hush! hush, for God’s sake! + It’s true he beat her—the cowardly, hellish brute!—only for + making that one little mistake with the cards. No! no! no! don’t speak out + so loud, or you’ll ruin us. How did you ever get in here?—Oh! you + must be quiet! There, sit down—Hark! I’m sure he’s coming! Oh! go + away—go away!” + </p> + <p> + She tried to pull Valentine out of the chair into which she had thrust him + but the instant before. He seized tight hold of her hand and refused to + move. If Mr. Jubber had come in at that moment, he would have been + thrashed within an inch of his life. + </p> + <p> + The child had ceased moaning when she saw Valentine. She anxiously looked + at him through her tears—then turned away quickly—took out her + little handkerchief—and began to dry her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I can’t go yet—I’ll promise only to whisper—you must listen + to me,” said Mr. Blyth, pale and panting for breath; “I mean to prevent + this from happening again—don’t speak!—I’ll take that injured, + beautiful, patient little angel away from this villainous place: I will, + if I go before a magistrate!” + </p> + <p> + The woman stopped him by pointing suddenly to the child. + </p> + <p> + She had put back the handkerchief, and was approaching him. She came close + and laid one hand on his knee, and timidly raised the other as high as she + could towards his neck. Standing so, she looked up quietly into his face. + The pretty lips tried hard to smile once more; but they only trembled for + an instant, and then closed again. The clear, soft eyes, still dim with + tears, sought his with an innocent gaze of inquiry and wonder. At that + moment, the expression of the sad and lovely little face seemed to say—“You + look as if you wanted to be kind to me; I wish you could find out some way + of telling me of it.” + </p> + <p> + Valentine’s heart told him what was the only way. He caught her up in his + arms, and half smothered her with kisses. The frail, childish hands rose + trembling, and clasped themselves gently round his neck; and the fair head + drooped lower and lower, wearily, until it lay on his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + The clown’s wife turned away her face, desperately stifling with both + hands the sobs that were beginning to burst from her afresh. She + whispered, “Oh, go, sir,—pray go! Some of the riders will be in here + directly; you’ll get us into dreadful trouble!” + </p> + <p> + Valentine rose, still holding the child in his arms. “I’ll go if you + promise me—” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll promise you anything, sir!” + </p> + <p> + “You know the rectory! Doctor Joyce’s—the clergyman—my kind + friend—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir; I know it. Do please, for little Mary’s sake be quick as you + can!” + </p> + <p> + “Mary! Her name’s Mary!” Valentine drew back into a corner, and began + kissing the child again. + </p> + <p> + “You must be out of your senses to keep on in that way after what I’ve + told you!” cried the clown’s wife, wringing her hands in despair, and + trying to drag him out of the corner. “Jubber will be in here in another + minute. She’ll be beaten again, if you’re caught with her; oh Lord! oh + Lord! will nothing make you understand that?” + </p> + <p> + He understood it only too well, and put the child down instantly, his face + turning pale again; his agitation becoming so violent that he never + noticed the hand which she held out towards him, or the appealing look + that said so plainly and pathetically: “I want to bid you good-bye; but I + can’t say it as other children can.” He never observed this; for he had + taken Mrs. Peckover by the arm, and had drawn her away hurriedly after him + into the passage. + </p> + <p> + The child made no attempt to follow them: she turned aside, and, sitting + down in the darkest corner of the miserable place, rested her head against + the rough partition which was all that divided her from the laughing + audience. Her lips began to tremble again: she took out the handkerchief + once more, and hid her face in it. + </p> + <p> + “Now, recollect your promise,” whispered Valentine to the clown’s wife, + who was slowly pushing him out all the time he was speaking to her. “You + must bring little Mary to the Rectory to-morrow morning at twelve o’clock + exactly—you must! or I’ll come and fetch her myself—” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll bring her, sir, if you’ll only go now. I’ll bring her—I will, + as true as I stand here!” + </p> + <p> + “If you don’t!” cried Valentine, still distrustful, and trembling all over + with agitation—“If you don’t!”—He stopped; for he suddenly + felt the open air blowing on his face. The clown’s wife was gone, and + nothing remained for him to threaten, but the tattered horse-cloths that + hung over the empty doorway. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. MADONNA’S MOTHER. + </h2> + <p> + It is a quarter to twelve by the hall clock at the Rectory, and one of the + finest autumn mornings of the whole season. Vance, Doctor Joyce’s + middle-aged man servant, or “Bishop” Vance, as the small wits of + Rubbleford call him, in allusion to his sleek and solemn appearance, his + respectable manner, his clerical cravat, and his speckless black garments, + is placing the cake and cowslip wine on the dining-table, with as much + formality and precision as if his master expected an archbishop to lunch, + instead of a clown’s wife and a little child of ten years old. It is quite + a sight to see Vance retiring and looking at the general effect of each + knife and fork as he lays it down; or solemnly strutting about the room, + with a spotless napkin waving gently in his hand; or patronisingly + confronting the pretty housemaid at the door, and taking plates and dishes + from her with the air of a kitchen Sultan who can never afford to lose his + dignity for a moment in the presence of the female slaves. + </p> + <p> + The dining-room window opens into the Rectory garden. The morning shadows + cast by the noble old elm-trees that grow all round, are fading from the + bright lawn. The rich flower-beds gleam like beds of jewels in the radiant + sunshine. The rookery is almost deserted, a solitary sleepy <i>caw</i> + being only heard now and then at long intervals. The singing of birds, and + the buzzing of busy insects sound faint, distant, and musical. On a shady + seat, among the trees, Mrs. Joyce is just visible, working in the open + air. One of her daughters sits reading on the turf at her feet. The other + is giving the younger children a ride by turns on the back of a large + Newfoundland dog, who walks along slowly with his tongue hanging out, and + his great bushy tail wagging gently. A prettier scene of garden beauty and + family repose could not be found in all England, than the scene which the + view through the Rectory window now presents. The household tranquillity, + however, is not entirely uninterrupted. Across the picture, of which Vance + and the luncheon-table form the foreground, and the garden with Mrs. Joyce + and the young ladies the middle-distance and background, there flits from + time to time an unquiet figure. This personage is always greeted by Leo, + the Newfoundland dog, with an extra wag of the tail; and is apostrophized + laughingly by the young ladies, under the appellation of “funny Mr. + Blyth.” + </p> + <p> + Valentine has in truth let nobody have any rest, either in the house or + the garden, since the first thing in the morning. The rector having some + letters to write, has bolted himself into his study in despair, and defies + his excitable friend from that stronghold, until the arrival of Mrs. + Peckover with the deaf and dumb child has quieted the painter’s fidgety + impatience for the striking of twelve o’clock, and the presence of the + visitors from the circus. As for the miserable Vance, Mr. Blyth has + discomposed, worried, and put him out, till he looks suffocated with + suppressed indignation. Mr. Blyth has invaded his sanctuary to ask whether + the hall clock is right, and has caught him “cleaning himself” in his + shirt sleeves. Mr. Blyth has broken one of his tumblers, and has + mutinously insisted on showing him how to draw the cork of the cowslip + wine bottle. Mr. Blyth has knocked down a fork and two spoons, just as + they were laid straight, by whisking past the table like a madman on his + way into the garden. Mr. Blyth has bumped up against the housemaid in + returning to the dining-room, and has apologized to Susan by a joke which + makes her giggle ecstatically in Vance’s own face. If this sort of thing + is to go on for a day or two longer, though he has been twenty years at + the Rectory, Vance will be goaded into giving the doctor warning. + </p> + <p> + It is five minutes to twelve. Valentine has skipped into the garden for + the thirtieth time at least, to beg that Mrs. Joyce and the young ladies + will repair to the dining-room, and be ready to set Mrs. Peckover and her + little charge quite at their ease the moment they come in. Mrs. Joyce + consents to this proposal at last, and takes his offered arm; touching it, + however, very gingerly, and looking straight before her, while he talks, + with an air of matronly dignity and virtuous reserve. She is still + convinced that Mr. Blyth’s principles are extremely loose, and treats him + as she might have treated Don Juan himself under similar circumstances. + </p> + <p> + They all go into the dining-room. Mrs. Joyce and her daughters take their + places, looking deliciously cool and neat in their bright morning dresses. + Leo drops down lazily on the rug inside the window, with a thump of his + great heavy body that makes the glasses ring. The doctor comes in with his + letters for the post, and apostrophizes Valentine with a harmless clerical + joke. Vance solemnly touches up the already perfect arrangement of the + luncheon table. The clock strikes twelve. A faint meek ring is heard at + the Rectory bell. + </p> + <p> + Vance struts slowly to the door, when—Heaven and earth! are no + conventions held sacred by these painters of pictures?—Mr. Blyth + dashes past him with a shout of “Here they are!” and flies into the hall + to answer the gate himself. Vance turns solemnly round towards his master, + trembling and purple in the face, with an appealing expression, which says + plainly enough:—“If <i>you</i> mean to stand this sort of outrage, + sir, I beg most respectfully to inform you that <i>I</i> don’t.” The + rector bursts out laughing; the young ladies follow his example; the + Newfoundland dog jumps up, and joins in with his mighty bark. Mrs. Joyce + sits silent, and looks at Vance, and sympathizes with him. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Blyth is soon heard again in the hall, talking at a prodigious rate, + without one audible word of answer proceeding from any other voice. The + door of the dining-room, which has swung to, is suddenly pushed open, + jostling the outraged Vance, who stands near it, into such a miserably + undignified position flat against the wall, that the young ladies begin to + titter behind their handkerchiefs as they look at him. Valentine enters, + leading in Mrs. Peckover and the deaf and dumb child, with such an air of + supreme happiness, that he looks absolutely handsome for the moment. The + rector, who is, in the best and noblest sense of the word, a gentleman, + receives Mrs. Peckover as politely and cordially as he would have received + the best lady in Rubbleford. Mrs. Joyce comes forward with him, very kind + too, but a little reserved in her manner, nevertheless; being possibly + apprehensive that any woman connected with the circus must be tainted with + some slight flavor of Miss Florinda Beverley. The young ladies drop down + into the most charming positions on either side of the child, and fall + straightway into fits of ecstasy over her beauty. The dog walks up, and + pokes his great honest muzzle among them companionably. Vance stands rigid + against the wall, and disapproves strongly of the whole proceeding. + </p> + <p> + Poor Mrs. Peckover! She had never been in such a house as the Rectory, she + had never spoken to a doctor of divinity before in her life. She was very + hot and red and trembling, and made fearful mistakes in grammar, and clung + as shyly to Mr. Blyth as if she had been a little girl. The rector soon + contrived, however, to settle her comfortably in a seat by the table. She + curtseyed reverentially to Vance, as she passed by him; doubtless under + the impression that he was a second doctor of divinity, even greater and + more learned than the first. He stared in return straight over her head, + with small unwinking eyes, his cheeks turning slowly from deep red to + dense purple. Mrs. Peckover shuddered inwardly, under the conviction that + she had insulted a dignitary, who was hoisted up on some clerical + elevation, too tremendous to be curtseyed to by such a social atom as a + clown’s wife. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Joyce had to call three times to her daughters before she could get + them to the luncheon-table. If she had possessed Valentine’s eye for the + picturesque and beautiful, she would certainly have been incapable of + disturbing the group which her third summons broke up. + </p> + <p> + In the center stood the deaf and dumb child, dressed in a white frock, + with a little silk mantilla over it, made from a cast-off garment + belonging to one of the ladies of the circus. She wore a plain straw hat, + ornamented with a morsel of narrow white ribbon, and tied under the chin + with the same material. Her clear, delicate complexion was overspread by a + slight rosy tinge—the tender coloring of nature, instead of the + coarsely-glaring rouge with which they disfigured her when she appeared + before the public. Her wondering blue eyes, that looked so sad in the + piercing gas-light, appeared to have lost that sadness in the mellow + atmosphere of the Rectory dining-room. The tender and touching stillness + which her affliction had cast over her face, seemed a little at variance + with its childish immaturity of feature and roundness of form, but + harmonized exquisitely with the quiet smile which seemed habitual to her + when she was happy—gratefully and unrestrainedly happy, as she now + felt among the new friends who were receiving her, not like a stranger and + an inferior, but like a younger sister who had been long absent from them. + </p> + <p> + She stood near the window, the center figure of the group, offering a + little slate that hung by her side, with a pencil attached to it, to the + rector’s eldest daughter, who was sitting at her right hand on a stool. + The second of the young ladies knelt on the other side, with both her arms + round the dog’s neck; holding him back as he stood in front of the child, + so as to prevent him from licking her face, which he had made several + resolute attempts to do, from the moment when she first entered the room. + Both the Doctor’s daughters were healthy, rosy English beauties in the + first bloom of girlhood; and both were attired in the simplest and + prettiest muslin dresses, very delicate in color and pattern. Pity and + admiration, mixed with some little perplexity and confusion, gave an + unusual animation to their expressions; for they could hardly accustom + themselves as yet to the idea of the poor child’s calamity. They talked to + her eagerly, as if she could hear and answer them—while she, on her + part, stood looking alternately from one to the other, watching their lips + and eyes intently, and still holding out the slate, with her innocent + gesture of invitation and gentle look of apology, for the eldest girl to + write on. The varying expressions of the three; the difference in their + positions, the charming contrast between their light, graceful figures and + the bulky strength and grand solidity of form in the noble Newfoundland + dog who stood among them; the lustrous background of lawn and flowers and + trees, seen through the open window; the sparkling purity of the sunshine + which fell brightly over one part of the group; the transparency of the + warm shadows that lay so caressingly, sometimes on a round smooth cheek, + sometimes over ringlets of glistening hair, sometimes on the crisp folds + of a muslin dress—all these accidental combinations of the moment, + these natural and elegant positions of nature’s setting, these accessories + of light and shade and background garden objects beautifully and tenderly + filling up the scene, presented together a picture which it was a luxury + to be able to look on, which it seemed little short of absolute + profanation to disturb. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Joyce, nevertheless, pitilessly disarranged it. In a moment the + living picture was destroyed; the young ladies were called to their + mother’s side; the child was placed between Valentine and Mrs. Peckover, + and the important business of luncheon began in earnest. + </p> + <p> + It was wonderful to hear how Mr. Blyth talked; how he alternately + glorified the clown’s wife for the punctual performance of her promise, + and appealed triumphantly to the rector to say, whether he had not + underrated rather than exaggerated little Mary’s beauty. It was also + wonderful to see Mrs. Peckover’s blank look of astonishment when she found + the rigid doctor of divinity, who would not so much as notice her curtsey, + suddenly relax into blandly supplying her with everything she wanted to + eat or drink. But a very much more remarkable study of human nature than + either of these, was afforded by the grimly patronizing and profoundly + puzzled aspect of Vance, as he waited, under protest, upon a woman from a + traveling circus. It is something to see the Pope serving the Pilgrims + their dinner, during the Holy Week at Rome. Even that astounding sight, + however, fades into nothing, as compared with the sublimer spectacle of + Mr. Vance waiting upon Mrs. Peckover. + </p> + <p> + The rector, who was a sharp observer in his own quiet, unobtrusive way, + was struck by two peculiarities in little Mary’s behavior during lunch. In + the first place, he remarked with some interest and astonishment, that + while the clown’s wife was, not unnaturally, very shy and embarrassed in + her present position, among strangers who were greatly her social + superiors, little Mary had maintained her self-possession, and had + unconsciously adapted herself to her new sphere from the moment when she + first entered the dining-room. In the second place, he observed that she + constantly nestled close to Valentine; looked at him oftener than she + looked at any one else; and seemed to be always trying, sometimes not + unsuccessfully, to guess what he was saying to others by watching his + expression, his manner, and the action of his lips. “That child’s + character is no common one,” thought Doctor Joyce; “she is older at heart + than she looks; and is almost as fond of Blyth already as he is of her.” + </p> + <p> + When lunch was over, the eldest Miss Joyce whispered a petition in her + mother’s ear, “May Carry and I take the dear little girl out with us to + see our gardens, mamma?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, my love, if she likes to go. You had better ask her—Ah, + dear! dear! I forgot—I mean, write on her slate. It’s so hard to + remember she’s deaf and dumb, when one sees her sitting there looking so + pretty and happy. She seems to like the cake. Remind me, Emmy, to tie some + up for her in paper before she goes away.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Emily and Miss Caroline went round to the child directly, and made + signs for the slate. They alternately wrote on it with immense enthusiasm, + until they had filled one side; signing their initials in the most + business-like manner at the end of each line, thus:— + </p> + <p> + “Oh, do come and see my gardens. E. J.”—“We will gather you such a + nice nosegay. C. J.”—“I have got some lovely little guinea-pigs. B. + J.”—“And Mark, our gardener, has made me a summer-house, with such + funny chairs in it. C. J.”—“You shall have my parasol to keep the + sun off. B. J.”—“And we will send Leo into the water as often as you + like him to go. C. J.”—Thus they went on till they got to the bottom + of the slate. + </p> + <p> + The child, after nodding her head and smiling as she read each fresh + invitation, turned the slate over, and, with some little triumph at + showing that she could write too, began slowly to trace some large text + letters in extremely crooked lines. It took her a long time—especially + as Mr. Blyth was breathlessly looking over her shoulder all the while—to + get through these words: “Thank you for being so kind to me. I will go + with you anywhere you like.” + </p> + <p> + In a few minutes more the two young ladies and little Mary were walking + over the bright lawn, with Leo in close attendance, carrying a stick in + his mouth. + </p> + <p> + Valentine started up to follow them; then appeared suddenly to remember + something, and sat down again with a very anxious expression on his face. + He and Doctor Joyce looked at one another significantly. Before breakfast, + that morning, they had been closeted at a private interview. Throughout + the conversation which then took place, Mr. Blyth had been unusually + quiet, and very much in earnest. The doctor had begun by being incredulous + and sarcastic in a good-humored way; but had ended by speaking seriously, + and making a promise under certain conditions. The time for the + performance of that promise had now arrived. + </p> + <p> + “You needn’t wait, Vance,” said the rector. “Never mind about taking the + things away. I’ll ring when you’re wanted.” + </p> + <p> + Vance gloomily departed. + </p> + <p> + “Now the young people have left us, Mrs. Peckover,” said Doctor Joyce, + turning to the clown’s wife, “there is a good opportunity for my making a + proposition to you, on behalf of my old and dear friend here, Mr. Blyth, + who, as you must have noticed, feels great sympathy and fondness for your + little Mary. But, before I mention this proposal (which I am sure you will + receive in the best spirit, however it may surprise you), I should wish—we + should all wish, if you have no objection—to hear any particulars + you can give us on the subject of this poor child. Do you feel any + reluctance to tell us in confidence whatever you know about her?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh dear no, sir!” exclaimed Mrs. Peckover, very much amazed. “I should be + ashamed of myself if I went making any objections to anything you wanted + to know about little Mary. But it’s strange to me to be in a beautiful + place like this, drinking wine with gentlefolks—and I’m almost + afraid—” + </p> + <p> + “Not afraid, I hope, that you can’t tell us what we are so anxious to + know, quite at your ease, and in your own way?” said the rector, + pleasantly. “Pray, Mrs. Peckover, believe I am sincere in saying that we + meet on equal terms here. I have heard from Mr. Blyth of your motherly + kindness to that poor helpless child; and I am indeed proud to take your + hand, and happy to see you here, as one who should always be an honored + guest in a clergyman’s house—the doer of a good and charitable deed. + I have always, I hope, valued the station to which it has pleased God to + call me, because it especially offers me the privilege of being the friend + of all my fellow-christians, whether richer or poorer, higher or lower in + worldly rank, than am myself.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Peckover’s eyes began to fill. She could have worshipped Doctor Joyce + at that moment. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Blyth!” exclaimed Mrs. Joyce, sharply, before another word could be + spoken—“excuse me, Mr. Blyth; but really—” + </p> + <p> + Valentine was trying to pour out a glass of sherry for Mrs. Peckover. His + admiration of the doctor’s last speech, and his extreme anxiety to + reassure the clown’s wife, must have interfered with his precision of eye + and hand; for one-half of the wine, as he held the decanter, was dropping + into the glass, and the other half was dribbling into a little river on + the cloth. Mrs. Joyce thought of the walnut-wood table underneath, and + felt half distracted as she spoke. Mrs. Peckover, delighted to be of some + use, forgot her company manners in an instant, pulled out her red cotton + pocket-handkerchief and darted at the spilt sherry. But the rector was + even quicker with his napkin. Mrs. Peckover’s cheeks turned the color of + her handkerchief as she put it back in her pocket, and sat down again. + </p> + <p> + “Much obliged—no harm done—much obliged, ma’am,” said Doctor + Joyce. “Now, Valentine, if you don’t leave off apologizing, and sit down + directly in that arm-chair against the wall, I shall take Mrs. Peckover + into my study, and hear everything she has to say, at a private interview. + There! we are all comfortable and composed again at last, and ready to be + told how little Mary and the good friend who has been like a mother to her + first met.” + </p> + <p> + Thus appealed to, Mrs. Peckover began her narrative; sometimes addressing + it to the Doctor, sometimes to Mrs. Joyce, and sometimes to Valentine. + From beginning to end, she was only interrupted at rare intervals by a + word of encouragement, or sympathy, or surprise, from her audience. Even + Mr. Blyth sat most uncharacteristically still and silent; his expression + alone showing the varying influences of the story on him, from its strange + commencement to its melancholy close. + </p> + <p> + “It’s better than ten years ago, sir,” began the clown’s wife, speaking + first to Doctor Joyce, “since my little Tommy was born; he being now, if + you please, at school and costing nothing, through a presentation, as they + call it I think, which was given us by a kind patron to my husband. Some + time after I had got well over my confinement, I was out one afternoon + taking a walk with baby and Jemmy; which last is my husband, ma’am. We + were at Bangbury, then, just putting up the circus: it was a fine large + neighborhood, and we hoped to do good business there. Jemmy and me and the + baby went out into the fields, and enjoyed ourselves very much; it being + such nice warm spring weather, though it was March at the time. We came + back to Bangbury by the road; and just as we got near the town, we see a + young woman sitting on the bank, and holding her baby in her arms, just as + I had got my baby in mine. + </p> + <p> + “‘How dreadful ill and weak she do look, don’t she?’ says Jemmy. Before I + could say as much as ‘Yes,’ she stares up at us, and asks in a wild voice, + though it wasn’t very loud either, if we can tell her the way to Bangbury + workhouse. Having pretty sharp eyes of our own, we both of us knew that a + workhouse was no fit place for her. Her gown was very dusty, and one of + her boots was burst, and her hair was draggled all over her face, and her + eyes was sunk in her head, like; but we saw somehow that she was a lady—or, + if she wasn’t exactly a lady, that no workhouse was proper for her, at any + rate. I stooped down to speak to her; but her baby was crying so dreadful + she could hardly hear me. ‘Is the poor thing ill?’ says I. ‘Starving,’ + says she, in such a desperate, fierce way, that it gave me a turn. ‘Is + that your child?’ says I, a bit frightened about how she’d answer me. + ‘Yes,’ she says in quite a new voice, very soft and sorrowful, and bending + her face away from me over the child. ‘Then why don’t you suckle it?’ says + I. She looks up at me, and then at Jemmy and shakes her head, and says + nothing. I give my baby to Jemmy to hold, and went and sat down by her. He + walked away a little; and I whispered to her again, ‘Why don’t you suckle + it?’ and she whispered to me, ‘My milk’s all dried up. I couldn’t wait to + hear no more till I’d got her baby at my own breast. + </p> + <p> + “That was the first time I suckled little Mary, ma’am. She wasn’t a month + old then, and oh, so weak and small! such a mite of a baby compared to + mine! + </p> + <p> + “You may be sure, sir, that I asked the young woman lots of questions, + while I was sitting side by side with her. She stared at me with a dazed + look in her face, seemingly quite stupefied by weariness or grief, or both + together. Sometimes she give me an answer and sometimes she wouldn’t. She + was very secret. She wouldn’t say where she come from, or who her friends + were, or what her name was. She said she should never have name or home or + friends again. I just quietly stole a look down at her left hand, and saw + that there was no wedding-ring on her finger, and guessed what she meant. + ‘Does the father know you are wandering about in this way?’ says I. She + flushes up directly; ‘No;’ says she, ‘he doesn’t know where I am. He never + had any love for me, and he has no pity for me now. God’s curse on him + wherever he goes!’—‘Oh, hush! hush!’ says I, ‘don’t talk like that!’ + ‘Why do you ask me questions?’ says she more fiercely than ever. ‘What + business have you to ask me questions that make me mad?’ ‘I’ve only got + one more to bother you with,’ says I, quite cool; ‘and that is, haven’t + you got any money at all with you?’ You see, ma’am, now I’d got her child + at my own bosom, I didn’t care for what she said, or fear for what she + might do to me. The poor mite of a baby was sure to be a peacemaker + between us, sooner or later. + </p> + <p> + “It turned out she’d got sixpence and a few half-pence—not a + farthing more, and too proud to ask help from any one of her friends. I + managed to worm out of her that she had run away from home before her + confinement, and had gone to some strange place to be confined, where + they’d ill-treated and robbed her. She hadn’t long got away from the + wretches who’d done it. By the time I’d found out all this, her baby was + quite quiet, and ready to go to sleep. I gave it her back. She said + nothing, but took and kissed my hand, her lips feeling like burning coals + on my flesh. ‘You’re kindly welcome,’ says I, a little flustered at such a + queer way of thanking me. ‘Just wait a bit while I speak to my husband.’ + Though she’d been and done wrong, I couldn’t for the life of me help + pitying her, for her fierce ways. She was so young, and so forlorn and + ill, and had such a beautiful face (little Mary’s is the image of it, + ‘specially about the eyes), and seemed so like a lady, that it was almost + a sin, as I thought, to send her to such a place as a workhouse. + </p> + <p> + “Well: I went and told Jemmy all I had got out of her—my own baby + kicking and crowing in my arms again, as happy as a king, all the time I + was speaking. ‘It seems shocking,’ says I, ‘to let such as her go into a + workhouse. What had we better do?’—Says Jemmy, ‘Let’s take her with + us to the circus and ask Peggy Burke.’ + </p> + <p> + “Peggy Burke, if you please, sir, was the finest rider that ever stepped + on a horse’s back. We’ve had nothing in our circus to come near her, since + she went to Astley’s. She was the wildest devil of an Irish girl—oh! + I humbly beg your pardon, sir, for saying such a word; but she really <i>was</i> + so wild, I hope you’ll excuse it. She’d go through fire and water, as they + say, to serve people she liked; but as for them she didn’t, she’d often + use her riding-whip among ‘em as free as her tongue. That cowardly brute + Jubber would never have beaten my little Mary, if Peggy had been with us + still! He was so frightened of her that she could twist him round her + finger; and she did, for he dursn’t quarrel with the best rider in + England, and let other circuses get hold of her. Peggy was a wonderful + sharp girl besides, and was always fond of me, and took my part; so when + Jemmy said he thought it best to ask her what we had better do, you may be + sure that I thought it best too. We took the young woman and the baby with + us to the circus at once. She never asked any questions; she didn’t seem + to care where she went, or what she did; she was dazed and desperate—a + sight, Ma’am, to make your heart ache. + </p> + <p> + “They were just getting tea in the circus, which was nearly finished. We + mostly have tea and dinner there, sir; finding it come cheaper in the end + to mess together when we can. Peggy Burke, I remember, was walking about + on the grass outside, whistling (that was one of her queer ways) ‘The girl + I left behind me.’ ‘Ah! Peck,’ says she, ‘what have you been after now? + Who’s the company lady ye’ve brought to tea with us?’ I told her, sir, all + I have told you; while Jemmy set the young woman down on one of our + trunks, and got her a cup of tea. ‘It seems dreadful,’ says I when I’d + done, ‘to send such as her to the workhouse, don’t it?’ ‘Workhouse!’ says + Peggy, firing up directly; ‘I only wish we could catch the man who’s got + her in that scrape, and put him in there on water-gruel for the rest of + his life. I’d give a shillin’ a wheal out of my own pocket for the blessed + privilege of scoring the thief’s face with my whip, till his own mother + wouldn’t know him!’ And then she went on, sir, abusing all the men in her + Irish way, which I can’t repeat. At last she stops, and claps me on the + back. ‘You’re a darlin’ old girl, Peck!’ says she, ‘and your friends are + my friends. Stop where you are, and let me speak a word to the young woman + on the trunk.’ + </p> + <p> + “After a little while she comes back, and says, ‘I’ve done it, Peck! She’s + mighty close, and as proud as Lucifer; but she’s only a dressmaker, for + all that.’ ‘A dressmaker!’ says I; ‘how did you find out she was a + dressmaker?’ ‘Why, I looked at her forefinger, in course,’ says Peggy, + ‘and saw the pricks of the needle on it, and soon made her talk a bit + after that. She knows fancy-work and cuttin’ out—would ye ever have + thought it? And I’ll show her how to give the workhouse the go-by + to-morrow, if she only holds out, and keeps in her senses. Stop where you + are, Peck! I’m going to make Jubber put his dirty hand into his pocket and + pull out some money; and that’s a sight worth stoppin’ to see any day in + the week.’ + </p> + <p> + “I waited as she told me; and she called for Jubber, just as if he’d been + her servant; and he come out of the circus. ‘I want ten shillings advance + of wages for that lady on the trunk,’ says Peggy. He laughed at her. ‘Show + your ugly teeth at me again,’ says she, ‘and I’ll box your ears. I’ve my + light hand for a horse’s mouth, and my heavy hand for a man’s cheek; you + ought to know that by this time! Pull out the ten shillings.’ ‘What for?’ + said he, frowning at her. ‘Just this,’ says she. ‘I mean to leave your + circus, unless I get those six character dresses you promised me; and the + lady there can do them up beautiful. Pull out the ten shillings! for I’ve + made up my mind to appear before the Bangbury public on Garryowen’s back, + as six women at once.’ + </p> + <p> + “What she meant by this, sir, was, that she was to have six different + dresses on, one over another; and was to go galloping round the ring on + Garryowen (which was a horse), beginning, I think it was, as Empress of + Roossia; and then throwing off the top dress without the horse stopping, + and showing next as some famous Frenchwoman, in the dress underneath; and + keeping on so with different nations, till she got down to the last dress, + which was to be Britannia and the Union-Jack. We’d got bits of remnants, + and old dresses and things to make and alter, but hadn’t anybody clever + enough at cutting out, and what they call ‘Costoom,’ to do what Peggy + wanted—Jubber being too stingy to pay the regular people who + understand such things. The young woman, knowing as she did about fancy + work, was just what was wanted, if she could only get well enough to use + her needle. ‘I’ll see she works the money out,’ says Peggy; ‘but she’s + dead beat to-night, and must have her rest and bit o’ supper, before she + begins to-morrow.’ Jubber wanted to give less than ten shillings; but + between threatening, and saying it should buy twenty shillings’ worth of + tailor’s work, she got the better of him. And he gave the money, sulky + enough. + </p> + <p> + “‘Now,’ says Peggy, ‘you take her away, and get her a lodging in the place + where you’re staying; and I’ll come tomorrow with some of the things to + make up.’ But, ah dear me! sir, she was never to work as much as sixpence + of that ten shillings out. She was took bad in the night, and got so much + worse in the morning that we had to send for the doctor. + </p> + <p> + “As soon as he’d seen her, he takes me into the passage, and says he to + me, ‘Do you know who her friends are?’ ‘No, sir,’ says I; ‘I can’t get her + to tell me. I only met her by accident yesterday.’ ‘Try and find out + again,’ says he; ‘for I’m afraid she won’t live over the night. I’ll come + back in the evening and see if there is any change.’ + </p> + <p> + “Peggy and me went into her room together; but we couldn’t even get her to + speak to us for ever so long a time. All at once she cries out, ‘I can’t + see things as I ought. Where’s the woman who suckled my baby when I was + alone by the roadside?’ ‘Here,’ says I—‘here; I’ve got hold of your + hand. Do tell us where we can write to about you.’ ‘Will you promise to + take care of my baby, and not let it go into the workhouse?’ says she. + ‘Yes, I promise,’ says I; ‘I do indeed promise with my whole heart.’ + ‘We’ll all take care of the baby,’ says Peggy; ‘only you try and cheer up, + and you’ll get well enough to see me on Garryowen’s back, before we leave + Bangbury—you will for certain, if you cheer up a bit.’ ‘I give my + baby,’ she says, clutching tight at my hand, ‘to the woman who suckled it + by the roadside; and I pray God to bless <i>her</i> and forgive <i>me,</i> + for Jesus Christ’s sake.’ After that, she lay quiet for a minute or two. + Then she says faintly, ‘Its name’s to be Mary. Put it into bed to me + again; I should like to touch its cheek, and feel how soft and warm it is + once more.’ And I took the baby out of its crib, and lifted it, asleep as + it was, into the bed by her side, and guided her hand up to its cheek. I + saw her lips move a little, and bent down over her. ‘Give me one kiss,’ + she whispered, ‘before I die.’ And I kissed her, and tried to stop crying + as I did it. Then I says to Peggy, ‘You wait here while I run and fetch + the doctor back; for I’m afraid she’s going fast.’ He wasn’t at home when + I got to his house. I did’n’t know what to do next, when I see a gentleman + in the street who looked like a clergyman, and I asked him if he was one; + and he said ‘Yes;’ and he went back with me. I heard a low wailing and + crying in the room, and saw Peggy sitting on the bundle of dresses she’d + brought in the morning, rocking herself backwards and forwards as Irish + people always do when they’re crying. I went to the bed, and looked + through the curtains. The baby was still sleeping as pretty as ever, and + its mother’s hand was touching one of its arms. I was just going to speak + to her again, when the clergyman said ‘Hush,’ and took a bit of + looking-glass that was set up on the chimney-piece, and held it over her + lips. She was gone. Her poor white wasted hand lay dead on the living + baby’s arm. + </p> + <p> + “I answered all the clergyman’s questions quite straightforward, telling + him everything I knew from beginning to end. When I’d done, Peggy starts + up from the bundle and says, ‘Mind, sir, whatever you do, the child’s not + to be took away from this person here, and sent to the workhouse. The + mother give it to her on that very bed, and I’m a witness of it.’ ‘And I + promised to be a mother to the baby, sir,’ says I. He turns round to me, + and praises me for what I done, and says nobody shall take it away from + me, unless them as can show their right comes forward to claim it. ‘But + now,’ says he, ‘we must think of other things. We must try and find out + something about this poor woman who has died in such a melancholy way.’ + </p> + <p> + “It was easier to say that than to do it. The poor thing had nothing with + her but a change of linen for herself and the child, and that gave us no + clue. Then we searched her pocket. There was a cambric handkerchief in it, + marked ‘M. G.;’ and some bits of rusks to sop for the child; and the + sixpence and halfpence which she had when I met her; and beneath all, in a + corner, as if it had been forgotten there, a small hair bracelet. It was + made of two kinds of hair—very little of one kind, and a good deal + of the other. And on the flat clasp of the bracelet there was cut in tiny + letters, <i>‘In memory of S. G.‘</i> I remember all this, sir, for I’ve + often and often looked at the bracelet since that time. + </p> + <p> + “We found nothing more—no letters, or cards, or anything. The + clergyman said that the ‘M. G.’ on the handkerchief must be the initials + of her name; and the ‘S. G.’ on the bracelet must mean, he thought, some + relation whose hair she wore as a sort of keepsake. I remember Peggy and + me wondering which was S. G.‘s hair; and who the other person might be, + whose hair was wove into the bracelet. But the clergyman he soon cut us + short by asking for pen, ink, and paper directly. ‘I’m going to write out + an advertisement,’ says he, ‘saying how you met with the young woman, and + what she was like, and how she was dressed.’ ‘Do you mean to say anything + about the baby, sir?’ says I. ‘Certainly,’ says he; ‘it’s only right, if + we get at her friends by advertising, to give them the chance of doing + something for the child. And if they live anywhere in county, I believe we + shall find them out; for the <i>Bangbury Chronicle,</i> into which I mean + to put the advertisement, goes everywhere in our part of England.’ + </p> + <p> + “So he sits down, and writes what he said he would, and takes it away to + be printed in the next day’s number of the newspaper. ‘If nothing comes of + this,’ says he, ‘I think I can manage about the burial with a charitable + society here. I’ll take care and inform you the moment the advertisement’s + answered.’ I hardly know how it was, sir; but I almost hoped they wouldn’t + answer it. Having suckled the baby myself, and kissed its mother before + she died, I couldn’t make up my mind to the chance of its being took away + from me just then. I ought to have thought how poor we were, and how hard + it would be for us to bring the child up. But, somehow, I never did think + of that—no more did Peggy—no more did Jemmy; not even when we + put the baby to bed that night along with our own. + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir, sure enough, two days after the advertisement come out, it was + answered in the cruelest letter I ever set eyes on. The clergyman he come + to me with it. ‘It was left this evening,’ says he, ‘by a strange + messenger, who went away directly. I told my servant to follow him; but it + was too late—he was out of sight.’ The letter was very short, and we + thought it was in a woman’s handwriting—a feigned handwriting, the + clergyman said. There was no name signed, and no date at top or bottom. + Inside it there was a ten-pound bank-note; and the person as sent it wrote + that it was enclosed to bury the young woman decently. ‘She was better + dead than alive’—the letter went on—‘after having disgraced + her father and her relations. As for the child, it was the child of sin, + and had no claim on people who desired to preserve all that was left of + their good name, and to set a moral example to others. The parish must + support it if nobody else would. It would be useless to attempt to trace + them, or to advertise again. The baby’s father had disappeared, they + didn’t know where; and they could hold no communication now with such a + monster of wickedness, even if he was found. She was dead in her shame and + her sin; and her name should never be mentioned among them she belonged to + henceforth for ever.’ + </p> + <p> + “This was what I remember in the letter, sir. A shocking and unchristian + letter I said; and the clergyman he said so too. + </p> + <p> + “She was buried in the poor corner of the churchyard. They marked out the + place, in case anybody should ever want to see it, by cutting the two + letters M. G., and the date of when she died, upon a board of wood at the + head of the grave. The clergyman then give me the hair bracelet and the + handkerchief, and said, ‘You keep these as careful as you keep the child; + for they may be of great importance one of these days. I shall seal up the + letter (which is addressed to me) and put it in my strong box.’ He’d asked + me, before this, if I’d thought of what a responsibility it was for such + as me to provide for the baby. And I told him I’d promised, and would keep + my promise, and trust to God’s providence for the rest. The clergyman was + a very kind gentleman, and got up a subscription for the poor babe; and + Peggy Burke, when she had her benefit before the circus left Bangbury, + give half of what she got as her subscription. I never heard nothing about + the child’s friends from that time to this; and I know no more who its + father is now than I did then. And glad I am that he’s never come forward—though, + perhaps, I oughtn’t to say so. I keep the hair bracelet and the + handkerchief as careful as the clergyman told me, for the mother’s sake as + well as the child’s. I’ve known some sorrow with her since I took her as + my own; but I love her only the dearer for it, and still think the day a + happy day for both of us, when I first stopped and suckled her by the + road-side. + </p> + <p> + “This is all I have to say, if you please, sir, about how I first met with + little Mary; and I wish I could have told it in a way that was more fit + for such as you to hear.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. MADONNA’S MISFORTUNE. + </h2> + <p> + As the clown’s wife ended her narrative, but little was said in the way of + comment on it by those who had listened to her. They were too much + affected by what they had heard to speak, as yet, except briefly and in + low voices. Mrs. Joyce more than once raised her handkerchief to her eyes. + Her husband murmured some cordial words of sympathy and thanks—in an + unusually subdued manner, however. Valentine said nothing; but he drew his + chair close to Mrs. Peckover, and turning his face away as if he did not + wish it to be seen, took her hand in one of his and patted it gently with + the other. There was now perfect silence in the room for a few minutes. + Then they all looked out with one accord, and as it seemed with one + feeling, towards the garden. + </p> + <p> + In a shady place, just visible among the trees, the rector’s daughters, + and little Mary, and the great Newfoundland dog were all sitting together + on the grass. The two young ladies appeared to be fastening a garland of + flowers round the child’s neck, while she was playfully offering a nosegay + for Leo to smell at. The sight was homely and simple enough; but it was + full of the tenderest interest—after the narrative which had just + engaged them—to those who now witnessed it. They looked out on the + garden scene silently for some little time. Mrs. Joyce was the first to + speak again. + </p> + <p> + “Would it be asking too much of you, Mrs. Peckover,” said she, “to inquire + how the poor little thing really met with the accident that caused her + misfortune? I know there is an account of it in the bills of the circus + but—” + </p> + <p> + “It’s the most infamous thing I ever read!” interrupted Mr. Blyth + indignantly. “The man who wrote it ought to be put in the pillory. I never + remember wanting to throw a rotten egg at any of my fellow-creatures + before; but I feel certain that I should enjoy having a shy at Mr. + Jubber!” + </p> + <p> + “Gently, Valentine—gently,” interposed the rector. “I think, my + love,” he continued, turning to Mrs. Joyce, “that it is hardly considerate + to Mrs. Peckover to expect her to comply with your request. She has + already sacrificed herself once to our curiosity; and, really, to ask her + now to recur a second time to recollections which I am sure must distress + her—” + </p> + <p> + “It’s worse than distressing, indeed, sir, even to think of that dreadful + accident,” said Mrs. Peckover, “and specially as I can’t help taking some + blame to myself for it. But if the lady wishes to know how it happened, + I’m sure I’m agreeable to tell her. People in our way of life, ma’am—as + I’ve often heard Peggy Burke say—are obliged to dry the tear at + their eyes long before it’s gone from their hearts. But pray don’t think, + sir, I mean that now about myself and in your company. If I <i>do</i> feel + low at talking of little Mary’s misfortune, I can take a look out into the + garden there, and see how happy she is—and that’s safe to set me + right again.” + </p> + <p> + “I ought to tell you first, sir,” proceeded the clown’s wife, after + waiting thoughtfully for a moment or two before she spoke again, “that I + got on much better with little Mary than ever I thought I should for the + first six years of her life. She grew up so pretty that gentlefolks was + always noticing her, and asking about her; and nearly in every place the + circus went to they made her presents, which helped nicely in her keep and + clothing. And our own people, too, petted her and were fond of her. All + those six years we got on as pleasantly as could be. It was not till she + was near her seventh birthday that I was wicked and foolish enough to + consent to her being shown in the performances. + </p> + <p> + “I was sorely tried and tempted before I did consent. Jubber first said he + wanted her to perform with the riders; and I said ‘No’ at once, though I + was awful frightened of him in those days. But soon after, Jemmy (who + wasn’t the clown then that he is now, sir; there was others to be got for + his money, to do what he did at that time)—Jemmy comes to me, saying + he’s afraid he shall lose his place, if I don’t give in about Mary. This + staggered me a good deal; for I don’t know what we should have done then, + if my husband had lost his engagement. And, besides, there was the poor + dear child herself, who was mad to be carried up in the air on horseback, + always begging and praying to be made a little rider of. And all the rest + of ‘em in the circus worried and laughed at me; and, in short, I give in + at last against my conscience, but I couldn’t help it. + </p> + <p> + “I made a bargain, though, that she should only be trusted to the + steadiest, soberest man, and the best rider of the whole lot. They called + him ‘Muley’ in the bills, and stained his face to make him look like a + Turk, or something of that sort; but his real name was Francis Yapp, and a + very good fatherly sort of man he was in his way, having a family of his + own to look after. He used to ride splendid, at full straddle, with three + horses under him—one foot, you know, sir, being on the outer horse’s + back, and one foot on the inner. Him and Jubber made it out together that + he was to act a wild man, flying for his life across some desert, with his + only child, and poor little Mary was to be the child. They darkened her + face to look like his; and put an outlandish kind of white dress on her; + and buckled a red belt round her waist, with a sort of handle in it for + Yapp to hold her by. After first making believe in all sorts of ways, that + him and the child was in danger of being taken and shot, he had to make + believe afterwards that they had escaped; and to hold her up, in a sort of + triumph, at the full stretch of his arm—galloping round and round + the ring all the while. He was a tremendous strong man, and could do it as + easy as I could hold up a bit of that plum cake. + </p> + <p> + “Poor little love! she soon got over the first fright of the thing, and + had a sort of mad fondness for it that I never liked to see, for it wasn’t + natural to her. Yapp, he said, she’d got the heart of a lion, and would + grow up the finest woman-rider in the world. I was very unhappy about it, + and lived a miserable life, always fearing some accident. But for some + time nothing near an accident happened; and lots of money come into the + circus to see Yapp and little Mary—but that was Jubber’s luck and + not ours. One night—when she was a little better than seven year old— + </p> + <p> + “Oh, ma’am, how I ever lived over that dreadful night I don’t know! I was + a sinful, miserable wretch not to have starved sooner than let the child + go into danger; but I was so sorely tempted and driven to it, God knows!—No, + sir! no, ma’am; and many thanks for your kindness, I’ll go on now I’ve + begun. Don’t mind me crying; I’ll manage to tell it somehow. The strap—no, + I mean the handle; the handle in the strap gave way all of a sudden—just + at the last too! just at the worst time, when he couldn’t catch her—! + </p> + <p> + “Never—oh, never, never, to my dying day shall I forget the horrible + screech that went up from the whole audience; and the sight of the white + thing lying huddled dead-still on the boards! We hadn’t such a number in + as usual that night; and she fell on an empty place between the benches. I + got knocked down by the horses in running to her—I was clean out of + my senses, and didn’t know where I was going—Yapp had fallen among + them, and hurt himself badly, trying to catch her—they were running + wild in the ring—the horses was—frantic-like with the noise + all round them. I got up somehow, and a crowd of people jostled me, and I + saw my innocent darling carried among them. I felt hands on me, trying to + pull me back; but I broke away, and got into the waiting-room along with + the rest. + </p> + <p> + “There she was—my own, own little Mary, that I’d promised her poor + mother to take care of—there she was, lying all white and still on + an old box, with my cloak rolled up as a pillow for her. And people + crowding round her. And a doctor feeling her head all over. And Yapp among + them, held up by two men, with his face all over blood. I wasn’t able to + speak or move; I didn’t feel as if I was breathing even, till the doctor + stopped, and looked up; and then a great shudder went through all of us + together, as if we’d been one body, instead of twenty or more. + </p> + <p> + “‘It’s not killed her,’ says the doctor. ‘Her brain’s escaped injury.’ + </p> + <p> + “I didn’t hear another word. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know how long it was before I seemed to wake up like, with a + dreadful feeling of pain and tearing of everything inside me. I was on the + landlady’s bed, and Jemmy was standing over me with a bottle of salts. + ‘They’ve put her to bed,’ he says to me, ‘and the doctor’s setting her + arm.’ I didn’t recollect at first; but when I did, it was almost as bad as + seeing the dreadful accident all over again. + </p> + <p> + “It was some time before any of us found out what had really happened. The + breaking of her arm, the doctor said, had saved her head; which was only + cut and bruised a little, not half as bad as was feared. Day after day, + and night after night, I sat by her bedside, comforting her through her + fever, and the pain of the splints on her arm, and never once suspecting—no + more, I believe, than she did—the awful misfortune that had really + happened. She was always wonderful quiet and silent for a child, poor + lamb, in little illnesses that she’d had before; and somehow, I didn’t + wonder—at least, at first—why she never said a word, and never + answered me when I spoke to her. + </p> + <p> + “This went on, though, after she got better in her health; and a strange + look came over her eyes. They seemed to be always wondering and + frightened, in a confused way, about something or other. She took, too, to + rolling her head about restlessly from one side of the pillow to the + other; making a sort of muttering and humming now and then, but still + never seeming to notice or to care for anything I said to her. One day, I + was warming her a nice cup of beef-tea over the fire, when I heard, quite + sudden and quite plain, these words from where she lay on the bed, ‘Why + are you always so quiet here? Why doesn’t somebody speak to me?’ + </p> + <p> + “I knew there wasn’t another soul in the room but the poor child at that + time; and yet, the voice as spoke those words was no more like little + Mary’s voice, than my voice, sir, is like yours. It sounded, somehow, + hoarse and low, and deep and faint, all at the same time; the strangest, + shockingest voice to come from a child, who always used to speak so + clearly and prettily before, that ever I heard. If I was only cleverer + with my words, ma’am, and could tell you about it properly—but I + can’t. I only know it gave me such a turn to hear her, that I upset the + beef-tea, and ran back in a fright to the bed. ‘Why, Mary! Mary!’ says I, + quite loud, ‘are you so well already that you’re trying to imitate Mr. + Jubber’s gruff voice?’ + </p> + <p> + “There was the same wondering look in her eyes—only wilder than I + had ever seen it yet—while I was speaking. When I’d done, she says + in the same strange way, ‘Speak out, mother; I can’t hear you when you + whisper like that.’ She was as long saying these words, and bungled over + them as much, as if she was only just learning to speak. I think I got the + first suspicion then, of what had really happened. ‘Mary!’ I bawled out as + loud as I could, ‘Mary! can’t you hear me?’ She shook her head, and stared + up at me with the frightened, bewildered look again: then seemed to get + pettish and impatient all of a sudden—the first time I ever saw her + so—and hid her face from me on the pillow. + </p> + <p> + “Just then the doctor come in. ‘Oh, sir!’ says I, whispering to him—just + as if I hadn’t found out a minute ago that she couldn’t hear me at the top + of my voice—‘I’m afraid there’s something gone wrong with her + hearing—.’ ‘Have you only just now suspected that?’ says he; ‘I’ve + been afraid of it for some days past, but I thought it best to say nothing + till I’d tried her; and she’s hardly well enough yet, poor child, to be + worried with experiments on her ears.’ ‘She’s much better,’ says I; + ‘indeed, she’s much better to-day, sir! Oh, do try her now, for it’s so + dreadful to be in doubt a moment longer than we can help.’ + </p> + <p> + “He went up to the bedside, and I followed him. She was lying with her + face hidden away from us on the pillow, just as it was when I left her. + The doctor says to me, ‘Don’t disturb her, don’t let her look round, so + that she can see us—I’m going to call to her.’ And he called ‘Mary’ + out loud, twice; and she never moved. The third time he tried her, it was + with such a shout at the top of his voice, that the landlady come up, + thinking something had happened. I was looking over his shoulder, and saw + that my dear child never started in the least. ‘Poor little thing,’ says + the doctor, quite sorrowful, ‘this is worse than I expected.’ He stooped + down and touched her, as he said this; and she turned round directly, and + put out her hand to have her pulse felt as usual. I tried to get out of + her sight, for I was crying, and didn’t wish her to see it; but she was + too sharp for me. She looked hard in my face and the landlady’s, then in + the doctor’s, which was downcast enough; for he had got very fond of her, + just as everybody else did who saw much of little Mary. + </p> + <p> + “‘What’s the matter?’ she says, in the same sort of strange unnatural + voice again. We tried to pacify her, but only made her worse. ‘Why do you + keep on whispering?’ she asks. ‘Why don’t you speak out loud, so that I + can—,’ and then she stopped, seemingly in a sort of helpless fright + and bewilderment. She tried to get up in bed, and her face turned red all + over. ‘Can she read writing?’ says the doctor. ‘Oh, yes, sir, says I; ‘she + can read and write beautiful for a child of her age; my husband taught + her.’ ‘Get me paper and pen and ink directly,’ says he to the landlady; + who went at once and got him what he wanted. ‘We must quiet her at all + hazards,’ says the doctor, ‘or she’ll excite herself into another attack + of fever. She feels what’s the matter with her, but don’t understand it; + and I’m going to tell her by means of this paper. It’s a risk,’ he says, + writing down on the paper in large letters, <i>You Are Deaf;</i> ‘but I + must try all I can do for her ears immediately; and this will prepare + her,’ says he, going to the bed, and holding the paper before her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “She shrank back on the pillow, as still as death, the instant she saw it; + but didn’t cry, and looked more puzzled and astonished, I should say, than + distressed. But she was breathing dreadful quick—I felt that, as I + stooped down and kissed her. ‘She’s too young,’ says the doctor, ‘to know + what the extent of her calamity really is. You stop here and keep her + quiet till I come back, for I trust the case is not hopeless yet.’ ‘But + whatever has made her deaf, sir?’ says the landlady, opening the door for + him. ‘The shock of that fall in the circus,’ says he, going out in a very + great hurry. I thought I should never have held up my head again, as I + heard them words, looking at little Mary, with my arm round her neck all + the time. + </p> + <p> + “Well, sir, the doctor come back; and he syringed her ears first—and + that did no good. Then he tried blistering, and then he put on leeches; + and still it was no use. ‘I’m afraid it is a hopeless case,’ says he; ‘but + there’s a doctor who’s had more practice than I’ve had with deaf people, + who comes from where he lives to our Dispensary once a week. To-morrow’s + his day, and I’ll bring him here with me.’ + </p> + <p> + “And he did bring this gentleman, as he promised he would—an old + gentleman, with such a pleasant way of speaking that I understood + everything he said to me directly. ‘I’m afraid you must make up your mind + to the worst,’ says he. ‘I have been hearing about the poor child from my + friend who’s attended her; and I’m sorry to say I don’t think there’s much + hope.’ Then he goes to the bed and looks at her. ‘Ah,’ says he, ‘there’s + just the same expression in her face that I remember seeing in a mason’s + boy—a patient of mine—who fell off a ladder, and lost his + hearing altogether by the shock. You don’t hear what I’m saying, do you, + my dear?’ says he in a hearty cheerful way. ‘You don’t hear me saying that + you’re the prettiest little girl I ever saw in my life?’ She looked up at + him confused, and quite silent. He didn’t speak to her again, but told me + to turn her on the bed, so that he could get at one of her ears. + </p> + <p> + “He pulled out some instruments, while I did what he asked, and put them + into her ear, but so tenderly that he never hurt her. Then he looked in, + through a sort of queer spy-glass thing. Then he did it all over again + with the other ear; and then he laid down the instruments and pulled out + his watch. ‘Write on a piece of paper,’ says he to the other doctor: <i>‘Do + you know that the watch is ticking?’</i> When this was done, he makes + signs to little Mary to open her mouth, and puts as much of his watch in + as would go between her teeth, while the other doctor holds up the paper + before her. When he took the watch out again, she shook her head, and said + ‘No,’ just in the same strange voice as ever. The old gentleman didn’t + speak a word as he put the watch back in his fob; but I saw by his face + that he thought it was all over with her hearing, after what had just + happened. + </p> + <p> + “‘Oh, try and do something for her, sir!’ says I. ‘Oh, for God’s sake, + don’t give her up, sir!’ ‘My good soul,’ says he, ‘you must set her an + example of cheerfulness, and keep up her spirits—that’s all that can + be done for her now.’ ‘Not <i>all,</i> sir,’ says I, ‘surely not <i>all!’</i> + ‘Indeed it is,’ says he; ‘her hearing is completely gone; the experiment + with my watch proves it. I had an exactly similar case with the mason’s + boy,’ he says, turning to the other doctor. ‘The shock of that fall has, I + believe, paralyzed the auditory nerve in her, as it did in him.’ I + remember those words exactly, sir, though I didn’t quite understand them + at the time. But he explained himself to me very kindly; telling me over + again, in a plain way, what he’d just told the doctor. He reminded me, + too, that the remedies which had been already tried had been of no use; + and told me I might feel sure that any others would only end in the same + way, and put her to useless pain into the bargain. ‘I hope,’ says he, ‘the + poor child is too young to suffer much mental misery under her dreadful + misfortune. Keep her amused, and keep her talking, if you possibly can—though + I doubt very much whether, in a little time, you won’t fail completely in + getting her to speak at all.’ + </p> + <p> + “‘Don’t say that, sir,’ says I; ‘don’t say she’ll be dumb as well as deaf; + it’s enough to break one’s heart only to think of it.’ ‘But I <i>must</i> + say so,’ says he; ‘for I’m afraid it’s the truth.’ And then he asks me + whether I hadn’t noticed already that she was unwilling to speak; and + that, when she did speak, her voice wasn’t the same voice it used to be. I + said ‘Yes,’ to that; and asked him whether the fall had had anything to do + with it. He said, taking me up very short, it had everything to do with + it, because the fall had made her, what they call, stone deaf, which + prevented her from hearing the sound of her own voice. So it was changed, + he told me, because she had no ear now to guide herself by in speaking, + and couldn’t know in the least whether the few words she said were spoken + soft or loud, or deep or clear. ‘So far as the poor child herself is + concerned,’ says he, ‘she might as well be without a voice at all; for she + has nothing but her memory left to tell her that she has one.’ + </p> + <p> + “I burst out a-crying as he said this; for somehow I’d never thought of + anything so dreadful before. ‘I’ve been a little too sudden in telling you + the worst, haven’t I?’ says the old gentleman kindly; ‘but you must be + taught how to make up your mind to meet the full extent of this misfortune + for the sake of the child, whose future comfort and happiness depend + greatly on you.’ And then he bid me keep up her reading and writing, and + force her to use her voice as much as I could, by every means in my power. + He told me I should find her grow more and more unwilling to speak every + day, just for the shocking reason that she couldn’t hear a single word she + said, or a single tone of her own voice. He warned me that she was already + losing the wish and the want to speak; and that it would very soon be + little short of absolute pain to her to be made to say even a few words; + but he begged and prayed me not to let my good nature get the better of my + prudence on that account, and not to humor her, however I might feel + tempted to do so—for if I did, she would be dumb as well as deaf + most certainly. He told me my own common sense would show me the reason + why; but I suppose I was too distressed or too stupid to understand things + as I ought. He had to explain it to me in so many words, that if she + wasn’t constantly exercised in speaking, she would lose her power of + speech altogether, for want of practice—just the same as if she’d + been born dumb. ‘So, once again,’ says he, ‘mind you make her use her + voice. Don’t give her her dinner, unless she asks for it. Treat her + severely in that way, poor little soul, because it’s for her own good.’ + </p> + <p> + “It was all very well for <i>him</i> to say that, but it was impossible + for <i>me</i> to do it. The dear child, ma’am, seemed to get used to her + misfortune, except when we tried to make her speak. It was the saddest, + prettiest sight in the world to see how patiently and bravely she bore + with her hard lot from the first. As she grew better in her health, she + kept up her reading and writing quite cleverly with my husband and me; and + all her nice natural cheerful ways come back to her just the same as ever. + I’ve read or heard somewhere, sir, about God’s goodness in tempering the + wind to the shorn lamb. I don’t know who said that first; but it might + well have been spoken on account of my own darling little Mary, in those + days. Instead of us being the first to comfort her, it was she that was + first to comfort us. And so she’s gone on ever since—bless her + heart! Only treat her kindly, and, in spite of her misfortune, she’s the + merriest, happiest little thing—the easiest pleased and amused, I do + believe, that ever lived. + </p> + <p> + “If we were wrong in not forcing her to speak more than we did, I must say + this much for me and my husband, that we hadn’t the heart to make her + miserable and keep on tormenting her from morning to night, when she was + always happy and comfortable if we would only let her alone. We tried our + best for some time to do what the gentleman told us; but it’s so hard—as + you’ve found I dare say, ma’am—not to end by humoring them you love! + I never see the tear in her eye, except when we forced her to speak to us; + and then she always cried, and was fretful and out of sorts for the whole + day. It seemed such a dreadful difficulty and pain to her to say only two + or three words; and the shocking husky moaning voice that sounded somehow + as if it didn’t belong to her, never changed. My husband first gave up + worrying her to speak. He practiced her with her book and writing, but let + her have her own will in everything else; and he teached her all sorts of + tricks on the cards, for amusement, which was a good way of keeping her + going with her reading and her pen pleasantly, by reason, of course, of + him and her being obliged to put down everything they had to say to each + other on a little slate that we bought for her after she got well. + </p> + <p> + “It was Mary’s own notion, if you please, ma’am, to have the slate always + hanging at her side. Poor dear! she thought it quite a splendid ornament, + and was as proud of it as could be. Jemmy, being neat-handed at such + things, did the frame over for her prettily with red morocco, and got our + propertyman to do it all round with a bright golden border. And then we + hung it at her side, with a nice little bit of silk cord—just as you + see it now. + </p> + <p> + “I held out in making her speak some time after my husband: but at last I + gave in too. I know it was wrong and selfish of me; but I got a fear that + she wouldn’t like me as well as she used to do, and would take more kindly + to Jemmy than to me, if I went on. Oh, how happy she was the first day I + wrote down on her slate that I wouldn’t worry her about speaking any more! + She jumped up on my knees—being always as nimble as a squirrel—and + kissed me over and over again with all her heart. For the rest of the day + she run about the room, and all over the house, like a mad thing, and when + Jemmy came home at night from performing, she would get out of bed and + romp with him, and ride pickaback on him, and try and imitate the funny + faces she’d seen him make in the ring. I do believe, sir, that was the + first regular happy night we had all had together since the dreadful time + when she met with her accident. + </p> + <p> + “Long after that, my conscience was uneasy though, at times, about giving + in as I had. At last I got a chance of speaking to another doctor about + little Mary; and he told me that if we had kept her up in her speaking + ever so severely, it would still have been a pain and a difficulty to her + to say her words, to her dying day. He said too, that he felt sure—though + he couldn’t explain it to me—that people afflicted with such stone + deafness as hers didn’t feel the loss of speech, because they never had + the want to use their speech; and that they took to making signs, and + writing, and such like, quite kindly as a sort of second nature to them. + This comforted me, and settled my mind a good deal. I hope in God what the + gentleman said was true; for if I was in fault in letting her have her own + way and be happy, it’s past mending by this time. For more than two years, + ma’am, I’ve never heard her say a single word, no more than if she’d been + born dumb, and it’s my belief that all the doctors in the world couldn’t + make her speak now. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps, sir, you might wish to know how she first come to show her + tricks on the cards in the circus. There was no danger in her doing that, + I know—and yet I’d have given almost everything I have, not to let + her be shown about as she is. But I was threatened again, in the vilest, + wickedest way—I hardly know how to tell it, gentlemen, in the + presence of such as you—Jubber, you must know—” + </p> + <p> + Just as Mrs. Peckover, with very painful hesitation, pronounced the last + words, the hall clock of the Rectory struck two. She heard it, and stopped + instantly. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, if you please, sir, was that two o’clock?” she asked, starting up + with a look of alarm. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Mrs. Peckover,” said the rector; “but really, after having been + indebted to you for so much that has deeply interested and affected us, we + can’t possibly think of letting you and little Mary leave the Rectory + yet.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed we must, sir; and many thanks to you for wanting to keep us + longer,” said Mrs. Peckover. “What I was going to say isn’t much; it’s + quite as well you shouldn’t hear it—and indeed, indeed, ma’am, we + must go directly. I told this gentleman here, Mr. Blyth, when I come in, + that I’d stolen to you unawares, under pretense of taking little Mary out + for a walk. If we are not back to the two o’clock dinner in the circus, + it’s unknown what Jubber may not do. This gentleman will tell you how + infamously he treated the poor child last night—we must go, sir, for + her sake; or else—” + </p> + <p> + “Stop!” cried Valentine, all his suppressed excitability bursting bounds + in an instant, as he took Mrs. Peckover by the arm, and pressed her back + into her chair. “Stop!—hear me; I must speak, or I shall go out of + my senses! Don’t interrupt me, Mrs. Peckover; and don’t get up. All I want + to say is this: you must never take that little angel of a child near + Jubber again—no, never! By heavens! if I thought he was likely to + touch her any more, I should go mad, and murder him!—Let me alone, + doctor! I beg Mrs. Joyce’s pardon for behaving like this; I’ll never do it + again. Be quiet, all of you! I must take the child home with me—oh, + Mrs. Peckover, don’t, don’t say no! I’ll make her as happy as the day is + long. I’ve no child of my own: I’ll watch over her, and love her, and + teach her all my life. I’ve got a poor, suffering, bedridden wife at home, + who would think such a companion as little Mary the greatest blessing God + could send her. My own dear, patient Lavvie! Oh, doctor, doctor! think how + kind Lavvie would be to that afflicted little child; and try if you can’t + make Mrs. Peckover consent. I can’t speak any more—I know I’m wrong + to burst out in this way; and I beg all your pardons for it, I do indeed! + Speak to her, doctor—pray speak to her directly, if you don’t want + to make me miserable for the rest of my life!” + </p> + <p> + With those words, Valentine darted precipitately into the garden, and made + straight for the spot where the little girls were still sitting together + in their shady resting-place among the trees. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. MADONNA GOES TO LONDON. + </h2> + <p> + The clown’s wife had sat very pale and very quiet under the whole + overwhelming torrent of Mr. Blyth’s apostrophes, exclamations, and + entreaties. She seemed quite unable to speak, after he was fairly gone; + and only looked round in a bewildered manner at the rector, with fear as + well as amazement expressed vividly in her hearty, healthy face. + </p> + <p> + “Pray compose yourself, Mrs. Peckover,” said Doctor Joyce; “and kindly + give me your best attention to what I am about to say. Let me beg you, in + the first place, to excuse Mr. Blyth’s odd behavior, which I see has + startled and astonished you. But, however wildly he may talk, I assure you + he means honorably and truthfully in all that he says. You will understand + this better if you will let me temperately explain to you the proposal, + which he has just made so abruptly and confusedly in his own words.” + </p> + <p> + “Proposal, sir!” exclaimed Mrs. Peckover faintly, looking more frightened + than ever—“Proposal! Oh, sir! you don’t mean to say that you’re + going to ask me to part from little Mary?” + </p> + <p> + “I will ask you to do nothing that your own good sense and kind heart may + not approve,” answered the rector. “In plain terms then, and not to waste + time by useless words of preface, my friend, Mr. Blyth, feels such + admiration for your little Mary, and such a desire to help her, as far as + may be, in her great misfortune, that he is willing and eager to make her + future prospects in life his own peculiar care, by adopting her as his + daughter. This offer, though coming, as I am aware, from a perfect + stranger, can hardly astonish you, I think, if you reflect on the + unusually strong claims which the child has to the compassion and kindness + of all her fellow-creatures. Other strangers, as you have told us, have + shown the deepest interest in her on many occasions. It is not therefore + at all wonderful that a gentleman, whose Christian integrity of motive I + have had opportunities of testing during a friendship of nearly twenty + years, should prove the sincerity of his sympathy for the poor child, by + such a proposal as I have now communicated to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t ask me to say yes to it, sir!” pleaded Mrs. Peckover, with tears in + her eyes. “Don’t ask me to do that! Anything else to prove my gratitude + for your kindness to us; but how can I part from my own little Mary? You + can’t have the heart to ask it of me!” + </p> + <p> + “I have the heart, Mrs. Peckover, to feel deeply for your distress at the + idea of parting from the child; but, for her sake, I must again ask you to + control your feelings. And, more than that, I must appeal to you by your + love to her, to grant a fair hearing to the petition which I now make on + Mr. Blyth’s behalf.” + </p> + <p> + “I would, indeed, if I could, sir,—but it’s just because I love her + so, that I can’t! Besides, as you yourself said, he’s a perfect stranger.” + </p> + <p> + “I readily admit the force of that objection on your part, Mrs. Peckover; + but let me remind you, that I vouch for the uprightness of his character, + and his fitness to be trusted with the child, after twenty years’ + experience of him. You may answer to that, that I am a stranger, too; and + I can only ask you, in return, frankly to accept my character and position + as the best proofs I can offer you that I am not unworthy of your + confidence. If you placed little Mary for instruction (as you well might) + in an asylum for the deaf and dumb, you would be obliged to put implicit + trust in the authorities of that asylum, on much the same grounds as those + I now advance to justify you in putting trust in me.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sir! don’t think—pray don’t think I am unwilling to trust you—so + kind and good as you have been to us to-day—and a clergyman too—I + should be ashamed of myself, if I could doubt—” + </p> + <p> + “Let me tell you, plainly and candidly, what advantages to the child Mr. + Blyth’s proposal holds out. He has no family of his own, and his wife is, + as he has hinted to you, an invalid for life. If you could only see the + gentleness and sweet patience with which she bears her affliction, you + would acknowledge that little Mary could appeal for an affectionate + welcome to no kinder heart than Mrs. Blyth’s. I assure you most seriously, + that the only danger I fear for the child in my friend’s house, is that + she would be spoilt by excessive indulgence. Though by no means a rich + man, Mr. Blyth is in an independent position, and can offer her all the + comforts of life. In one word, the home to which he is ready to take her, + is a home of love and happiness and security, in the best and purest + meaning of those words.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t say any more, sir! Don’t break my heart by making me part with + her!” + </p> + <p> + “You will live, Mrs. Peckover, to thank me for trying your fortitude as I + try it now. Hear me a little longer, while I tell you what terms Mr. Blyth + proposes. He is not only willing but anxious—if you give the child + into his charge—that you should have access to her whenever you + like. He will leave his address in London with you. He desires, from + motives alike honorable to you and to himself, to defray your traveling + expenses whenever you wish to see the child. He will always acknowledge + your prior right to her affection and her duty. He will offer her every + facility in his power for constantly corresponding with you; and if the + life she leads in his house be, even in the slightest respect, distasteful + to her, he pledges himself to give her up to you again—if you and + she desire it—at any sacrifice of his own wishes and his own + feelings. These are the terms he proposes, Mrs. Peckover, and I can most + solemnly assure you on my honor as a clergyman and a gentleman, that he + will hold sacred the strict performance of all and each of these + conditions, exactly as I have stated them.” + </p> + <p> + “I ought to let her go, sir—I know I ought to show how grateful I am + for Mr. Blyth’s generosity by letting her go—but how can I, after + all the long time she’s been like my own child to me? Oh, ma’am, say a + word for me!—I seem so selfish for not giving her up—say a + word for me!” + </p> + <p> + “Will you let me say a word for little Mary, instead?” rejoined Mrs. + Joyce. “Will you let me remind you that Mr. Blyth’s proposal offers her a + secure protection against that inhuman wretch who has ill-used her + already, and who may often ill-use her again, in spite of everything you + can do to prevent him. Pray think of that, Mrs. Peckover—pray do!” + </p> + <p> + Poor Mrs. Peckover showed that she thought of it bitterly enough, by a + fresh burst of tears. + </p> + <p> + The rector poured out a glass of water, and gave it to her. “Do not think + us inconsiderate or unfeeling,” he said, “in pressing Mr. Blyth’s offer on + you so perseveringly. Only reflect on Mary’s position, if she remains in + the circus as she grows up! Would all your watchful kindness be sufficient + to shield her against dangers to which I hardly dare allude?—against + wickedness which would take advantage of her defenselessness, her + innocence, and even her misfortune? Consider all that Mr. Blyth’s proposal + promises for her future life; for the sacred preservation of her purity of + heart and mind. Look forward to the day when little Mary will have gown up + to be a young woman; and I will answer, Mrs. Peckover, for your doing full + justice to the importance of my friend’s offer.” + </p> + <p> + “I know it’s all true, sir; I know I’m an ungrateful, selfish wretch—but + only give me a little time to think; a little time longer to be with the + poor darling that I love like my own child!” + </p> + <p> + Doctor Joyce was just drawing his chair closer to Mrs. Peckover before he + answered, when the door opened, and the respectable Vance softly entered + the room. + </p> + <p> + “What do you want here?” said the rector, a little irritably. “Didn’t I + tell you not to come in again till I rang for you?’ + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon, sir,” answered Vance, casting rather a malicious look + at the clown’s wife as he closed the door behind him—“but there’s a + person waiting in the hall, who says he comes on important business, and + must see you directly.” + </p> + <p> + “Who is he? What’s his name?” + </p> + <p> + “He says his name is Jubber, if you please, sir.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Peckover started from her chair with a scream. “Don’t—pray, for + mercy’s sake, sir, don’t let him into the garden where Mary is!” she + gasped, clutching Doctor Joyce by the arm in the extremity of her terror. + “He’s found us out, and come here in one of his dreadful passions! He + cares for nothing and for nobody, sir: he’s bad enough to ill-treat her + even before you. What am I to do? Oh, good gracious heavens! what am I to + do?” + </p> + <p> + “Leave everything to me, and sit down again,” said the rector kindly. + Then, turning to Vance, he added:—“Show Mr. Jubber into the + cloak-room, and say I will be with him directly.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, Mrs. Peckover,” continued Doctor Joyce, in the most perfectly + composed manner, “before I see this man (whose business I can guess at) I + have three important questions to ask of you. In the first place, were you + not a witness, last night, of his cruel ill-usage of that poor child? (Mr. + Blyth told me of it.) The fellow actually beat her, did he not?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, indeed he did, sir!—beat her most cruelly with a cane.” + </p> + <p> + “And you saw it all yourself?” + </p> + <p> + “I did, sir. He’d have used her worse, if I hadn’t been by to prevent + him.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well. Now tell me if you or your husband have signed any agreement—any + papers, I mean, giving this man a right to claim the child as one of his + performers?” + </p> + <p> + <i>“Me</i> sign an agreement, sir! I never did such a thing in all my + life. Jubber would think himself insulted, if you only talked of his + signing an agreement with such as me or Jemmy.” + </p> + <p> + “Better and better. Now, my third question refers to little Mary herself. + I will undertake to put it out of this blackguard’s power ever to lay a + finger on her again—but I can only do so on one condition, which it + rests entirely with you to grant.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll do anything to save her, sir; I will indeed.” + </p> + <p> + “The condition is that you consent to Mr. Blyth’s proposal; for I can only + ensure the child’s safety on those terms.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, sir, I consent to it,” said Mrs. Peckover, speaking with a sudden + firmness of tone and manner which almost startled Mrs. Joyce, who stood by + listening anxiously. “I consent to it; for I should be the vilest wretch + in the world, if I could say ‘no’ at such a time as this. I will trust my + precious darling treasure to you, sir, and to Mr. Blyth; from this moment. + God bless <i>her,</i> and comfort <i>me!</i> for I want comfort badly + enough. Oh, Mary! Mary! my own little Mary! to think of you and me ever + being parted like this!” The poor woman turned towards the garden as she + pronounced those words; all her fortitude forsook her in an instant; and + she sank back in her chair, sobbing bitterly. + </p> + <p> + “Take her out into the shrubbery where the children are, as soon as she + recovers a little,” whispered the rector to his wife, as he opened the + dining-room door. + </p> + <p> + Though Mr. Jubber presented, to all appearance, the most scoundrelly + aspect that humanity can assume, when he was clothed in his evening + uniform, and illuminated by his own circus lamplight, he nevertheless + reached an infinitely loftier climax of blackguard perfection when he was + arrayed in his private costume, and was submitted to the tremendous ordeal + of pure daylight. The most monstrous ape that could be picked from the + cages of the Zoological Gardens would have gained by comparison with him + as he now appeared, standing in the Rectory cloak-room, with his debauched + bloodshot eyes staring grimly contemptuous all about him, with his yellow + flabby throat exposed by a turn-down collar and a light blue neck-tie, + with the rouge still smeared over his gross unhealthy cheeks, with his + mangy shirt-front bespattered with bad embroidery and false jewelry that + had not even the politic decency to keep itself clean. He had his hat on, + and was sulkily running his dirty fingers through the greasy black + ringlets that flowed over his coat-collar, when Doctor Joyce entered the + cloak-room. + </p> + <p> + “You wished to speak with me?” said the rector, not sitting down himself, + and not asking Mr. Jubber to sit down. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! you’re Doctor Joyce?” said the fellow, assuming his most insolent + familiarity of manner directly. + </p> + <p> + “That is my name,” said Dr. Joyce very quietly. “Will you have the + goodness to state your business with me immediately, and in the fewest + possible words?” + </p> + <p> + “Hullo! You take that tone with me, do you?” said Jubber, setting his arms + akimbo, and tapping his foot fiercely on the floor; “you’re trying to come + Tommy Grand over me already, are you? Very good! I’m the man to give you + change in your own coin—so here goes! What do you mean by enticing + away my Mysterious Foundling? What do you mean by this private swindle of + talent that belongs to my circus?” + </p> + <p> + “You had better proceed a little,” said the rector, more quietly than + before. “Thus far I understand nothing whatever, except that you wish to + behave offensively to me; which, in a person of your appearance, is, I + assure you, of not the slightest consequence. You had much better save + time by stating what you have to say in plain words.” + </p> + <p> + “You want plain words—eh?” cried Jubber, losing his temper. “Then, + by God, you shall have them, and plain enough!” + </p> + <p> + “Stop a minute,” said Doctor Joyce. “If you use oaths in my presence + again, I shall ring for my servant, and order him to show you out of the + house.” + </p> + <p> + “You will?” + </p> + <p> + “I will, most certainly.” + </p> + <p> + There was a moment’s pause, and the blackguard and the gentleman looked + one another straight in the face. It was the old, invariable struggle, + between the quiet firmness of good breeding, and the savage obstinacy of + bad; and it ended in the old, invariable way. The blackguard flinched + first. + </p> + <p> + “If your servant lays a finger on me, I’ll thrash him within an inch of + his life,” said Jubber, looking towards the door, and scowling as he + looked. “But that’s not the point, just now—the point is, that I + charge you with getting my deaf and dumb girl into your house, to perform + before you on the sly. If you’re too virtuous to come to my circus—and + better than you have been there—you ought to have paid the proper + price for a private performance. What do you mean by treating a public + servant, like me, with your infernal aristocratic looks, as if I was dirt + under your feet, after such shabby doings as you’ve been guilty of—eh?” + </p> + <p> + “May I ask how you know that the child you refer to has been at my house + to-day?” asked Doctor Joyce, without taking the slightest notice of Mr. + Jubber’s indignation. + </p> + <p> + “One of my people saw that swindling hypocrite of a Peckover taking her + in, and told me of it when I missed them at dinner. There! that’s good + evidence, I rather think! Deny it if you can.” + </p> + <p> + “I have not the slightest intention of denying it. The child is now in my + house.” + </p> + <p> + “And has gone through all her performances, of course? Ah! shabby! shabby! + I should be ashamed of myself, if <i>I’d</i> tried to do a man out of his + rights like that.” + </p> + <p> + “I am most unaffectedly rejoiced to hear that you are capable, under any + circumstances, of being ashamed of yourself at all,” rejoined the rector. + “The child, however, has gone through no performances here, not having + been sent for with any such purpose as you suppose. But, as you said just + now, that’s not the point. Pray, why did you speak of the little girl, a + moment ago, as <i>your</i> child?” + </p> + <p> + “Because she’s one of my performers, of course. But, come! I’ve had enough + of this; I can’t stop talking here all day; I want the child—so just + deliver her up at once, will you?—and turn out Peck as soon as you + like after. I’ll cure them both of ever doing this sort of thing again! + I’ll make them stick tight to the circus for the future! I’ll show them—” + </p> + <p> + “You would be employing your time much more usefully,” said Doctor Joyce, + “if you occupied it in altering the bills of your performance, so as to + inform the public that the deaf and dumb child will not appear before them + again.” + </p> + <p> + “Not appear again?—not appear to-night in my circus? Why, hang me! + if I don’t think you’re trying to be funny all of a sudden! Alter my bills—eh? + Not bad! Upon my soul, not at all bad for a parson! Give us another joke, + sir; I’m all attention.” And Mr. Jubber put his hand to his ear, grinning + in a perfect fury of sarcasm. + </p> + <p> + “I am quite in earnest,” said the rector. “A friend of mine has adopted + the child, and will take her home with him tomorrow morning. Mrs. Peckover + (the only person who has any right to exercise control over her) has + consented to this arrangement. If your business here was to take the child + back to your circus, it is right to inform you that she will not leave my + house till she goes to London to-morrow with my friend.” + </p> + <p> + “And you think I’m the sort of man to stand this?—and give up the + child?—and alter the bills?—and lose money?—and be as + mild as mother’s milk all the time? Oh! yes, of course! I’m so devilish + fond of you and your friend! You’re such nice men, you can make me do + anything! Damn all this jabber and nonsense!” roared the ruffian, passing + suddenly from insolence to fury, and striking his fist on the table. “Give + me the child at once, do you hear? Give her up, I say. I won’t leave the + house till I’ve got her!” + </p> + <p> + Just as Mr. Jubber swore for the second time, Doctor Joyce rang the bell. + “I told you what I should do, if you used oaths in my presence again,” + said the rector. + </p> + <p> + “And <i>I</i> told <i>you</i> I’d kill the servant, if he laid a finger on + me,” said Jubber, knocking his hat firmly on his head, and tucking up his + cuffs. + </p> + <p> + Vance appeared at the door, much less pompous than usual and displaying an + interesting paleness of complexion. Jubber spat into the palm of each of + his hands, and clenched his fists. + </p> + <p> + “Have you done dinner down stairs?” asked Doctor Joyce, reddening a + little, but still very quiet. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” answered Vance, in a remarkably conciliating voice. + </p> + <p> + “Tell James to go to the constable, and say I want him; and let the + gardener wait with you outside there in the hall.” + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said the rector, shutting the door again after issuing these + orders, and placing himself once more face to face with Mr. Jubber. “Now I + have a last word or two to say, which I recommend you to hear quietly. In + the first place, you have no right over the child whatever; for I happen + to know that you are without a signed agreement promising you her + services. (You had better hear me out for your own sake.) You have no + legal right, I say, to control the child in any manner. She is a perfectly + free agent, so far as you are concerned.—Yes! yes! you deny it, of + course! I have only to say that, if you attempt to back that denial by + still asserting your claim to her, and making a disturbance in my house, + as sure as you stand there, I’ll ruin you in Rubbleford and in all the + country round. (It’s no use laughing—I can do it!) You beat the + child in the vilest manner last night. I am a magistrate; and I have my + prosecutor and my witness of the assault ready whenever I choose to call + them. I can fine or imprison you, which I please. You know the public; you + know what they think of people who ill-use helpless children. If you + appeared in that character before me, the Rubbleford paper would report + it; and, so far as the interests of your circus are concerned, you would + be a ruined man in this part of the country—you would, you know it! + Now I will spare you this—not from any tenderness towards <i>you</i>—on + condition that you take yourself off quietly, and never let us hear from + you again. I strongly advise you to go at once; for if you wait till the + constable comes, I will not answer for it that my sense of duty may not + force me into giving you into custody.” With which words Doctor Joyce + threw open the door, and pointed to the hall. + </p> + <p> + Throughout the delivery of this speech, violent indignation, ungovernable + surprise, abject terror, and impotent rage ravaged by turns the breast of + Mr. Jubber. He stamped about the room, and uttered fragments of oaths, but + did not otherwise interrupt Dr. Joyce, while that gentleman was speaking + to him. When the rector had done, the fellow had his insolent answer ready + directly. To do him justice, he was consistent, if he was nothing else—he + was bully and blackguard to the very last. + </p> + <p> + “Magistrate or parson,” he cried, snapping his fingers, “I don’t care a + damn for you in either capacity. You keep the child here at your peril! + I’ll go to the first lawyer in Rubbleford, and bring an action against + you. I’ll show you a little legal law! <i>You</i> ruin me indeed! I can + prove that I only thrashed the little toad, the nasty deaf idiot, because + she deserved it. I’ll be even with you! I’ll have the child back wherever + you take her to. I’ll show you a little legal law! (Here he stepped to the + hall door.) I’ll be even with you, damme! I’ll charge you with setting on + your menial servants to assault me. (Here he looked fiercely at the + gardener, a freckled Scotch giant of six feet three, and instantly + descended five steps.) Lay a finger on me, if you dare! I’m going straight + from this house to the lawyer’s. I’m a free Englishman, and I’ll have my + rights and my legal law! I’ll bring my action! I’ll ruin you! I’ll strip + your gown off your back I’ll stop your mouth in your own pulpit!” Here he + strutted into the front garden; his words grew indistinct, and his gross + voice became gradually less and less audible. The coachman at the outer + gate saw the last of him, and reported that he made his exit striking + viciously at the flowers with his cane, and swearing that he would ruin + the rector with “legal law.” + </p> + <p> + After leaving certain directions with his servants, in the very improbable + event of Mr. Jubber’s return, Doctor Joyce repaired immediately to his + dining-room. No one was there, so he went on into the garden. + </p> + <p> + Here he found the family and the visitors all assembled together; but a + great change had passed over the whole party during his absence. Mr. + Blyth, on being informed of the result of the rector’s conversation with + Mrs. Peckover, acted with his usual impetuosity and utter want of + discretion; writing down delightedly on little Mary’s slate, without the + slightest previous preparation or coaxing, that she was to go home with + him to-morrow, and be as happy as the day was long, all the rest of her + life. The result of this incautious method of proceeding was that the + child became excessively frightened, and ran away from everybody to take + refuge with Mrs. Peckover. She was still crying, and holding tight by the + good woman’s gown with both hands; and Valentine was still loudly + declaring to everybody that he loved her all the better for showing such + faithful affection to her earliest and best friend, when the rector joined + the party under the coolly-murmuring trees. + </p> + <p> + Doctor Joyce spoke but briefly of his interview with Mr. Jubber, + concealing much that had passed at it, and making very light of the + threats which the fellow had uttered on his departure. Mrs. Peckover, + whose self-possession seemed in imminent danger of being overthrown by + little Mary’s mute demonstrations of affection, listened anxiously to + every word the Doctor uttered; and, as soon as he had done, said that she + must go back to the circus directly, and tell her husband the truth about + all that had occurred, as a necessary set-off against the slanders that + were sure to be spoken against her by Mr. Jubber. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, never mind me, ma’am!” she said, in answer to the apprehensions + expressed by Mrs. Joyce about her reception when she got to the circus. + “The dear child’s safe; and that’s all I care about. I’m big enough and + strong enough to take my own part; and Jemmy, he’s always by to help me + when I can’t. May I come back, if you please, sir, this evening; and say—and + say?—” + </p> + <p> + She would have added, “and say good-bye;” but the thoughts which now + gathered round that one word, made it too hard to utter. She silently + curtseyed her thanks for the warm invitation that was given to her to + return; stooped down to the child; and, kissing her, wrote on the slate, + “I shall be back, dear, in the evening, at seven o’clock”—then + disengaged the little hands that still held fast by her gown, and hurried + from the garden, without once venturing to look behind her as she crossed + the sunny lawn. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Joyce, and the young ladies, and the rector, all tried their best to + console little Mary; and all failed. She resolutely, though very gently, + resisted them; walking away into corners by herself, and looking + constantly at her slate, as if she could only find comfort in reading the + few words which Mrs. Peckover had written on it. At last, Mr. Blyth took + her up on his knee. She struggled to get away, for a moment—then + looked intently in his face; and, sighing very mournfully, laid her head + down on his shoulder. There was a world of promise for the future success + of Valentine’s affectionate project in that simple action, and in the + preference which it showed. + </p> + <p> + The day wore on quietly—evening came—seven o’clock struck—then + half-past—then eight—and Mrs. Peckover never appeared. Doctor + Joyce grew uneasy, and sent Vance to the circus to get some news of her. + </p> + <p> + It was again Mr. Blyth—and Mr. Blyth only—who succeeded in + partially quieting little Mary under the heavy disappointment of not + seeing Mrs. Peckover at the appointed time. The child had been restless at + first, and had wanted to go to the circus. Finding that they tenderly, but + firmly, detained her at the Rectory, she wept bitterly—wept so long, + that at last she fairly cried herself asleep in Valentine’s arms. He sat + anxiously supporting her with a patience that nothing could tire. The + sunset rays, which he had at first carefully kept from falling on her + face, vanished from the horizon; the quiet luster of twilight overspread + the sky—and still he refused to let her be taken from him; and said + he would sit as he was all through the night rather than let her be + disturbed. + </p> + <p> + Vance came back, and brought word that Mrs. Peckover would follow him in + half an hour. They had given her some work to do at the circus, which she + was obliged to finish before she could return to the Rectory. + </p> + <p> + Having delivered this message, Vance next produced a handbill, which he + said was being widely circulated all over Rubbleford; and which proved to + be the composition of Mr. Jubber himself. That ingenious ruffian, having + doubtless discovered that “legal law” was powerless to help him to his + revenge, and that it would be his wisest proceeding to keep clear of + Doctor Joyce in the rectory’s magisterial capacity, was now artfully + attempting to turn the loss of the child to his own profit, by dint of + prompt lying in his favorite large type, sprinkled with red letters. He + informed the public, through the medium of his hand-bills, that the father + of the Mysterious Foundling had been “most providentially” discovered, and + that he (Mr. Jubber) had given the child up immediately, without a thought + of what he might personally suffer, in pocket as well as in mind, by his + generosity. After this, he appealed confidently to the sympathy of people + of every degree, and of “fond parents” especially, to compensate him by + flocking in crowds to the circus; adding, that if additional stimulus were + wanting to urge the public into “rallying round the Ring,” he was prepared + to administer it forthwith, in the shape of the smallest dwarf in the + world, for whose services he was then in treaty, and whose first + appearance before a Rubbleford audience would certainly take place in the + course of a few days. + </p> + <p> + Such was Mr. Jubber’s ingenious contrivance for turning to good pecuniary + account the ignominious defeat which he had suffered at the hands of Dr. + Joyce. + </p> + <p> + After much patient reasoning and many earnest expostulations, Mrs. Joyce + at last succeeded in persuading Mr. Blyth that he might carry little Mary + upstairs to her bed, without any danger of awakening her. The moonbeams + were streaming through the windows over the broad, old-fashioned landings + of the rectory stair-case, and bathed the child’s sleeping face in their + lovely light, as Valentine carefully bore her in his own arms to her + bedroom. “Oh!” he whispered to himself as he paused for an instant where + the moon shone clearest on the landing; and looked down on her—“Oh! + if my poor Lavvie could only see little Mary now.” + </p> + <p> + They laid her, still asleep, on the bed, and covered her over lightly with + a shawl—then went down stairs again to wait for Mrs. Peckover. + </p> + <p> + The clown’s wife came in half an hour, as she had promised. They saw + sorrow and weariness in her face, as they looked at her. Besides a bundle + with the child’s few clothes in it, she brought the hair bracelet and the + pocket-handkerchief which had been found on little Mary’s mother. + </p> + <p> + “Wherever the child goes,” she said, “these two things must go with her.” + She addressed Mr. Blyth as she spoke, and gave the hair bracelet and the + handkerchief into his own hands. + </p> + <p> + It seemed rather a relief than a disappointment to Mrs. Peckover to hear + that the child was asleep above stairs. All pain of parting would now be + spared, on one side at least. She went up to look at her on her bed, and + kissed her—but so lightly that little Mary’s sleep was undisturbed + by that farewell token of tenderness and love. + </p> + <p> + “Tell her to write to me, sir,” said poor Mrs. Peckover, holding + Valentine’s hand fast, and looking wistfully in his face through her + gathering tears. “I shall prize my first letter from her so much, if it’s + only a couple of lines. God bless you, sir; and good-bye. It ought to be a + comfort to me, and it is, to know that you will be kind to her—I + hope I shall get up to London some day, and see her myself. But don’t + forget the letter, sir: I shan’t fret so much after her when once I’ve got + that!” + </p> + <p> + She went away, sadly murmuring these last words many times over, while + Valentine was trying to cheer and reassure her, as they walked together to + the outer gate. Doctor Joyce accompanied them down the front-garden path, + and exacted from her a promise to return often to the Rectory, while the + circus was at Rubbleford; saying also that he and his family desired her + to look on them always as her fast and firm friends in any emergency. + Valentine entreated her, over and over again, to remember the terms of + their agreement, and to come and judge for herself of the child’s + happiness in her new home. She only answered “Don’t forget the letter, + sir!” And so they parted. + </p> + <p> + Early the next morning, Mr. Blyth and little Mary left the Rectory, and + started for London by the first coach. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. MADONNA IN HER NEW HOME. + </h2> + <p> + The result of Mr. Blyth’s Adventure in the traveling Circus, and of the + events which followed it, was that little Mary at once became a member of + the painter’s family, and grew up happily, in her new home, into the young + lady who was called “Madonna” by Valentine, by his wife, and by all + intimate friends who were in the habit of frequenting the house. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Blyth’s first proceeding, after he had brought the little girl home + with him, was to take her to the most eminent aural surgeon of the day. He + did this, not in the hope of any curative result following the medical + examination, but as a first duty which he thought he owed to her, now that + she was under his sole charge. The surgeon was deeply interested in the + case; but, after giving it the most careful attention, he declared that it + was hopeless. Her sense of hearing, he said, was entirely gone; but her + faculty of speech, although it had been totally disused (as Mrs. Peckover + had stated) for more than two years past, might, he thought, be + imperfectly regained, at some future time, if a tedious, painful, and + uncertain process of education were resorted to, under the direction of an + experienced teacher of the deaf and dumb. The child, however, had such a + horror of this resource being tried, when it was communicated to her, that + Mr. Blyth instinctively followed Mrs. Peckover’s example, and consulted + the little creature’s feelings, by allowing her in this particular—and + indeed in most others—to remain perfectly happy and contented in her + own way. + </p> + <p> + The first influence which reconciled her almost immediately to her new + life, was the influence of Mrs. Blyth. The perfect gentleness and patience + with which the painter’s wife bore her incurable malady, seemed to impress + the child in a very remarkable manner from the first. The sight of that + frail, wasted life, which they told her, by writing, had been shut up so + long in the same room, and had been condemned to the same weary inaction + for so many years past, struck at once to Mary’s heart and filled her with + one of those new and mysterious sensations which mark epochs in the growth + of a child’s moral nature. Nor did these first impressions ever alter. + When years had passed away, and when Mary, being “little” Mary no longer, + possessed those marked characteristics of feature and expression which + gained for her the name of “Madonna,” she still preserved all her child’s + feeling for the painter’s wife. However playful her manner might often be + with Valentine, it invariably changed when she was in Mrs. Blyth’s + presence; always displaying, at such times, the same anxious tenderness, + the same artless admiration, and the same watchful and loving sympathy. + There was something secret and superstitious in the girl’s fondness for + Mrs. Blyth. She appeared unwilling to let others know what this affection + really was in all its depth and fullness: it seemed to be intuitively + preserved by her in the most sacred privacy of her own heart, as if the + feeling had been part of her religion, or rather as if it had been a + religion in itself. + </p> + <p> + Her love for her new mother, which testified itself thus strongly and + sincerely, was returned by that mother with equal fervor. From the day + when little Mary first appeared at her bedside, Mrs. Blyth felt, to use + her own expression, as if a new strength had been given her to enjoy her + new happiness. Brighter hopes, better health, calmer resignation, and + purer peace seemed to follow the child’s footsteps and be always inherent + in her very presence, as she moved to and fro in the sick room. All the + little difficulties of communicating with her and teaching her, which her + misfortune rendered inevitable, and which might sometime have been felt as + tedious by others, were so many distinct sources of happiness, so many + exquisite occupations of once-weary time to Mrs. Blyth. All the friends of + the family declared that the child had succeeded where doctors, and + medicines, and luxuries, and the sufferer’s own courageous resignation had + hitherto failed—for she had succeeded in endowing Mrs. Blyth with a + new life. And they were right. A fresh object for the affections of the + heart and the thoughts of the mind, is a fresh life for every feeling and + thinking human being, in sickness even as well as in health. + </p> + <p> + In this sense, indeed, the child brought fresh life with her to all who + lived in her new home—to the servants, as well as to the master and + mistress. The cloud had rarely found its way into that happy dwelling in + former days: now the sunshine seemed fixed there for ever. No more + beautiful and touching proof of what the heroism of patient dispositions + and loving hearts can do towards guiding human existence, unconquered and + unsullied, through its hardest trials, could be found anywhere than was + presented by the aspect of the painter’s household. Here were two chief + members of one little family circle, afflicted by such incurable bodily + calamity as it falls to the lot of but few human beings to suffer—yet + here were no sighs, no tears, no vain repinings with each new morning, no + gloomy thoughts to set woe and terror watching by the pillow at night. In + this homely sphere, life, even in its frailest aspects, was still greater + than its greatest trials; strong to conquer by virtue of its own innocence + and purity, its simple unworldly aspirations, its self-sacrificing + devotion to the happiness and the anxieties of others. + </p> + <p> + As the course of her education proceeded, many striking peculiarities + became developed in Madonna’s disposition, which seemed to be all more or + less produced by the necessary influence of her affliction on the + formation of her character. The social isolation to which that affliction + condemned her, the solitude of thought and feeling into which it forced + her, tended from an early period to make her mind remarkably self-reliant, + for so young a girl. Her first impression of strangers seemed invariably + to decide her opinion of them at once and for ever. She liked or disliked + people heartily; estimating them apparently from considerations entirely + irrespective of age, or sex, or personal appearance. Sometimes, the very + person who was thought certain to attract her, proved to be absolutely + repulsive to her—sometimes, people, who, in Mr. Blyth’s opinion, + were sure to be unwelcome visitors to Madonna, turned out, + incomprehensibly, to be people whom she took a violent liking to directly. + She always betrayed her pleasure or uneasiness in the society of others + with the most diverting candor—showing the extremest anxiety to + conciliate and attract those whom she liked; running away and hiding + herself like a child, from those whom she disliked. There were some + unhappy people, in this latter class, whom no persuasion could ever induce + her to see a second time. + </p> + <p> + She could never give any satisfactory account of how she proceeded in + forming her opinions of others. The only visible means of arriving at + them, which her deafness and dumbness permitted her to use, consisted + simply in examination of a stranger’s manner, expression, and play of + features at a first interview. This process, however, seemed always amply + sufficient for her; and in more than one instance events proved that her + judgment had not been misled by it. Her affliction had tended, indeed, to + sharpen her faculties of observation and her powers of analysis to such a + remarkable degree, that she often guessed the general tenor of a + conversation quite correctly, merely by watching the minute varieties of + expression and gesture in the persons speaking—fixing her attention + always with especial intentness on the changeful and rapid motions of + their lips. + </p> + <p> + Exiled alike from the worlds of sound and speech, the poor girl’s + enjoyment of all that she could still gain of happiness, by means of the + seeing sense that was left her, was hardly conceivable to her speaking and + hearing fellow-creatures. All beautiful sights, and particularly the + exquisite combinations that Nature presents, filled her with an artless + rapture, which it affected the most unimpressible people to witness. Trees + were beyond all other objects the greatest luxuries that her eyes could + enjoy. She would sit for hours, on fresh summer evenings, watching the + mere waving of the leaves; her face flushed, her whole nervous + organization trembling with the sensations of deep and perfect happiness + which that simple sight imparted to her. All the riches and honors which + this world can afford, would not have added to her existence a tithe of + that pleasure which Valentine easily conferred on her, by teaching her to + draw; he might almost be said to have given her a new sense in exchange + for the senses that she had lost. She used to dance about the room with + the reckless ecstasy of a child, in her ungovernable delight at the + prospect of a sketching expedition with Mr. Blyth in the Hampstead fields. + </p> + <p> + At a very early date of her sojourn with Valentine, it was discovered that + her total deafness did not entirely exclude her from every effect of + sound. She was acutely sensitive to the influence of percussion—that + is to say (if so vague and contradictory an expression may be allowed), + she could, under certain conditions, <i>feel</i> the sounds that she could + not hear. For example, if Mr. Blyth wished to bring her to his side when + they were together in the painting-room, and when she happened neither to + be looking at him nor to be within reach of a touch he used to rub his + foot, or the end of his mahl-stick gently against the floor. The slight + concussion so produced, reached her nerves instantly; provided always that + some part of her body touched the floor on which such experiments were + tried. + </p> + <p> + As a means of extending her facilities of social communication, she was + instructed in the deaf and dumb alphabet by Valentine’s direction; he and + his wife, of course, learning it also; and many of their intimate friends, + who were often in the house, following their example for Madonna’s sake. + Oddly enough, however, she frequently preferred to express herself, or to + be addressed by others, according to the clumsier and slower system of + signs and writing, to which she had been accustomed from childhood. She + carefully preserved her little slate, with its ornamented frame, and kept + it hanging at her side, just as she wore it on the morning of her visit to + the Rectory-house at Rubbleford. + </p> + <p> + In one exceptional case, and one only, did her misfortune appear to have + the power of affecting her tranquillity seriously. Whenever, by any + accident, she happened to be left in the dark, she was overcome by the + most violent terror. It was found, even when others were with her, that + she still lost her self-possession at such times. Her own explanation of + her feelings on these occasions, suggested the simplest of reasons to + account for this weakness in her character. “Remember,” she wrote on her + slate, when a new servant was curious to know why she always slept with a + light in her room—“Remember that I am deaf <i>and blind too</i> in + the darkness. You, who can hear, have a sense to serve you instead of + sight, in the dark—your ears are of use to you then, as your eyes + are in the light. <i>I</i> hear nothing, and see nothing—I lose all + my senses together in the dark.” + </p> + <p> + It was only by rare accidents, which there was no providing against, that + she was ever terrified in this way, after her peculiarity had first + disclosed itself. In small things as well as in great, Valentine never + forgot that her happiness was his own especial care. He was more nervously + watchful over her than anyone else in the house—for she cost him + those secret anxieties which make the objects of our love doubly precious + to us. In all the years that she had lived under his roof, he had never + conquered his morbid dread that Madonna might be one day traced and + discovered by her father, or by relatives, who might have a legal claim to + her. Under this apprehension he had written to Doctor Joyce and Mrs. + Peckover a day or two after the child’s first entry under his roof, + pledging both the persons whom he addressed to the strictest secrecy in + all that related to Madonna and to the circumstances which had made her + his adopted child. As for the hair bracelet, if his conscience had allowed + him, he would have destroyed it immediately; but feeling that this would + be an inexcusable breach of trust, he was fain to be content with locking + it up, as well as the pocket-handkerchief, in an old bureau in his + painting-room, the key of which he always kept attached to his own watch + chain. + </p> + <p> + Not one of his London friends ever knew how he first met with Madonna. He + boldly baffled all forms of inquiry by requesting that they would consider + her history before she came into his house as a perfect blank, and by + simply presenting her to them as his adopted child. This method of + silencing troublesome curiosity succeeded certainly to admiration; but at + the expense of Mr. Blyth’s own moral character. Persons who knew little or + nothing of his real disposition and his early life, all shook their heads, + and laughed in secret; asserting that the mystery was plain enough to the + most ordinary capacity, and that the young lady could be nothing more nor + less than a natural child of his own. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Blyth was far more indignant at this report than her husband, when in + due time it reached the painter’s house. Valentine rather approved of the + scandal than not, because it was likely to lead inquisitive people in the + wrong direction. He might have been now perfectly easy about the + preservation of his secret, but for the distrust which still clung to him, + in spite of himself, on the subject of Mrs. Peckover’s discretion. He + never wearied of warning that excellent woman to be careful in keeping the + important secret, every time she came to London to see Madonna. Whether + she only paid them a visit for the day, and then went away again; or + whether she spent her Christmas with them, Valentine’s greeting always + ended nervously with the same distrustful question:—“Excuse me for + asking, Mrs. Peckover, but are you quite sure you have kept what you know + about little Mary and her mother, and dates and places and all that, + properly hidden from prying people, since you were here last?” At which + point Mrs. Peckover generally answered by repeating, always with the same + sarcastic emphasis:—“Properly hidden, did you say, sir? Of course I + keep what I know properly hidden, for of course I can hold my tongue. In + my time, sir, it used always to take two parties to play at a game of Hide + and Seek. Who in the world is seeking after little Mary, I should like to + know?” + </p> + <p> + Perhaps Mrs. Peckover’s view of the case was the right one; or, perhaps, + the extraordinary discretion observed by the persons who were in the + secret of Madonna’s history, prevented any disclosure of the girl’s origin + from reaching her father or friends—presuming them to be still alive + and anxiously looking for her. But, at any rate, this much at least is + certain:—Nobody appeared to assert a claim to Valentine’s adopted + child, from the time when he took her home with him as his daughter, to + the time when the reader first made his acquaintance, many pages back, in + the congenial sphere of his own painting-room.* + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * See note at the end of the book. +</pre> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. MENTOR AND TELEMACHUS. + </h2> + <p> + It is now some time since we left Mr. Blyth and Madonna in the studio. The + first was engaged, it may be remembered, in the process of brushing up + Bacchanalian Nymphs in the foreground of a Classical landscape. The second + was modestly occupied in making a copy of the head of the Venus de’ + Medici. + </p> + <p> + The clock strikes one—and a furious ring is heard at the house-bell. + </p> + <p> + “There he is!” cries Mr. Blyth to himself. “There’s Zack! I know his ring + among a thousand; it’s worse even than the postman’s; it’s like an alarm + of fire!” + </p> + <p> + Here Valentine drums gently with his mahl-stick on the floor. Madonna + looks towards him directly; he waves his hand round and round rapidly + above his head. This is the sign which means “Zack.” The girl smiles + brightly, and blushes as she sees it. Zack is apparently one of her + special favorites. + </p> + <p> + While the young gentleman is being admitted at the garden gate, there is a + leisure moment to explain how he became acquainted with Mr. Blyth. + </p> + <p> + Valentine’s father, and Mrs. Thorpe’s father (the identical Mr. Goodworth + who figures at the beginning of this narrative as one of the actors in the + Sunday Drama at Baregrove Square), had been intimate associates of the + drowsy-story-telling and copious-port-drinking old school. The friendly + intercourse between these gentlemen spread, naturally enough, to the sons + and daughters who formed their respective families. From the time of Mr. + Thorpe’s marriage to Miss Goodworth, however, the connection between the + junior Goodworths and Blyths began to grow less intimate—so far, at + least, as the new bride and Valentine were concerned. The rigid modern + Puritan of Baregrove Square, and the eccentric votary of the Fine Arts, + mutually disapproved of each other from the very first. Visits of ceremony + were exchanged at long intervals; but even these were discontinued on + Madonna’s arrival under Valentine’s roof: Mr. Thorpe being one of the + first of the charitable friends of the family who suspected her to be the + painter’s natural child. An almost complete separation accordingly ensued + for some years, until Zack grew up to boy’s estate, and was taken to see + Valentine, one day in holiday time, by his grandfather. He and the painter + became friends directly. Mr. Blyth liked boys, and boys of all degrees + liked him. From this time, Zack frequented Valentine’s house at every + opportunity, and never neglected his artist-friend in after years. At the + date of this story, one of the many points in his son’s conduct of which + Mr. Thorpe disapproved on the highest moral grounds, was the firm + determination the lad showed to keep up his intimacy with Mr. Blyth. + </p> + <p> + We may now get back to the ring at the bell. + </p> + <p> + Zack’s approach to the painting-room was heralded by a scuffling of feet, + a loud noise of talking, and a great deal of suspicious giggling on the + part of the housemaid, who had let him in. Suddenly these sounds ceased—the + door was dashed open—and Mr. Thorpe, junior, burst into the room. + </p> + <p> + “Dear old Blyth! how are you?” cried Zack. “Have you had any leap-frog + since I was here last? Jump up, and let’s celebrate my return to the + painting-room with a bit of manly exercise in our old way. Come on! I’ll + give the first back. No shirking! Put down your palette; and one, two, + three—and over!” + </p> + <p> + Pronouncing these words, Zack ran to the end of the room opposite to + Valentine; and signalized his entry into the studio by the extraordinary + process of giving its owner, what is termed in the technical language of + leap-frog, “a capital back.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Blyth put down his palette, brushes, and mahl-stick—tucked up + his cuffs and smiled—took a little trial skip into the air—and, + running down the room with the slightly tremulous step of a gentleman of + fifty, cleared Zack in gallant style; fell over on the other side, all in + a lump on his hands and feet; gave the return “back” conscientiously, at + the other end of the studio; and was leapt over in an instant, with a + shout of triumph, by Zack. The athletic ceremonies thus concluded, the two + stood up together and shook hands heartily. + </p> + <p> + “Too stiff, Blyth—too stiff and shaky by half,” said young Thorpe. + “I haven’t kept you up enough in your gymnastics lately. We must have some + more leap-frog in the garden; and I’ll bring my boxing gloves next time, + and open your chest by teaching you to fight. Splendid exercise, and so + good for your sluggish old liver.” + </p> + <p> + Delivering this opinion, Zack ran off to Madonna, who had been keeping the + Venus de’ Medici from being shaken down, while she looked on at the + leap-frog. “How is the dearest, prettiest, gentlest love in the world?” + cried Zack, taking her hand, and kissing it with boisterous fondness. “Ah! + she lets other old friends kiss her cheek, and only lets me kiss her hand!—I + say, Blyth, what a little witch she is—I’ll lay you two to one she’s + guessed what I’ve just been saying to her.” + </p> + <p> + A bright flush overspread the girl’s face while Zack addressed her. Her + tender blue eyes looked up at him, shyly conscious of the pleasure that + their expression was betraying; and the neat folds of her pretty grey + dress, which had lain so still over her bosom when she was drawing, began + to rise and fall gently now, when Zack was holding her hand. If young + Thorpe had not been the most thoughtless of human beings—as much a + boy still, in many respects, as when he was locked up in his father’s + dressing-room for bad behavior at church—he might have guessed long + ago why he was the only one of Madonna’s old friends whom she did not + permit to kiss her on the cheek! + </p> + <p> + But Zack neither guessed, nor thought of guessing, anything of this sort. + His flighty thoughts flew off in a moment from the young lady to his + cigar-case; and he walked away to the hearth-rug, twisting up a piece of + waste paper into a lighter as he went. + </p> + <p> + When Madonna returned to her drawing, her eyes wandered timidly once or + twice to the place where Zack was standing, when she thought he was not + looking at her; and, assuredly, so far as personal appearance was + concerned, young Thorpe was handsome enough to tempt any woman into + glancing at him with approving eyes. He was over six feet in height; and, + though then little more than nineteen years old, was well developed in + proportion to his stature. His boxing, rowing, and other athletic + exercises had done wonders towards bringing his naturally vigorous, + upright frame to the perfection of healthy muscular condition. Tall and + strong as he was, there was nothing stiff or ungainly in his movements, He + trod easily and lightly, with a certain youthful suppleness and hardy + grace in all his actions, which set off his fine bodily formation to the + best advantage. He had keen, quick, mischievous grey eyes—a + thoroughly English red and white complexion—admirably bright and + regular teeth—and curly light brown hair, with a very peculiar + golden tinge in it, which was only visible when his head was placed in a + particular light. In short, Zack was a manly, handsome fellow, a thorough + Saxon, every inch of him; and (physically speaking at least) a credit to + the parents and the country that had given him birth. + </p> + <p> + “I say, Blyth, do you and Madonna mind smoke?” asked Zack, lighting his + cigar before there was time to answer him. + </p> + <p> + “No—no,” said Valentine. “But, Zack, you wrote me word that your + father had taken all your cigars away from you—” + </p> + <p> + “So he has, and all my pocket-money too. But I’ve taken to helping myself, + and I’ve got some splendid cigars. Try one, Blyth,” said the young + gentleman, luxuriously puffing out a stream of smoke through each nostril. + </p> + <p> + “Taken to helping yourself!” exclaimed Mr. Blyth. “What do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” said Zack, “don’t be afraid. It’s not thieving—it’s only + barter. Look here, my dear fellow, this is how it is. A friend of mine, a + junior clerk in our office, has three dozen cigars, and I have two staring + flannel shirts, which are only fit for a snob to wear. The junior clerk + gives me the three dozen cigars, and I give the junior clerk the two + staring flannel shirts. That’s barter, and barter’s commerce, old boy! + it’s all my father’s fault; he will make a tradesman of me. Dutiful + behavior, isn’t it, to be doing a bit of commerce already on my own + account?” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll tell you what, Zack,” said Mr. Blyth, “I don’t like the way you’re + going on in at all. Your last letter made me very uneasy, I can promise + you.” + </p> + <p> + “You can’t be half as uneasy as I am,” rejoined Zack. “I’m jolly enough + here, to be sure, because I can’t help it somehow; but at home I’m the + most miserable devil on the face of the earth. My father baulks me in + everything, and makes me turn hypocrite, and take him in, in all sorts of + ways—which I hate myself for doing; and yet can’t help doing, + because he forces me to it. Why does he want to make me live in the same + slow way that he does himself? There’s some difference in our ages, I + rather think! Why does he bully me about being always home by eleven + o’clock? Why does he force me into a tea-merchant’s office, when I want to + be an artist, like you? I’m a perfect slave to commerce already. What do + you think? I’m supposed to be sampling in the city at this very moment. + The junior clerk’s doing the work for me; and he’s to have one of my + dress-waistcoats to compensate him for the trouble. First my shirts; then + my waistcoat; then my—confound it, sir, I shall be stripped to the + skin, if this sort of thing goes on much longer!” + </p> + <p> + “Gently, Zack, gently. What would your father say if he heard you?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes! it’s all very well, you old humbug, to shake your head at me; + but you wouldn’t like being forced into an infernal tea-shop, and having + all your pocket-money stopped, if it was your case. I won’t stand it—I + have the patience of Job—but I won’t stand it! My mind’s made up: I + want to be an artist, and I <i>will</i> be an artist. Don’t lecture, Blyth—it’s + no use; but just tell me how I’m to begin learning to draw.” + </p> + <p> + Here Zack cunningly touched Valentine on his weak point. Art was his grand + topic; and to ask his advice on that subject was to administer the + sweetest flattery to his professional pride. He wheeled his chair round + directly, so as to face young Thorpe. “If you’re really set on being an + artist,” he began enthusiastically, “I rather fancy, Master Zack, I’m the + man to help you. First of all, you must purify your taste by copying the + glorious works of Greek sculpture—in short, you must form yourself + on the Antique. Look there!—just what Madonna’s doing now; <i>she’s</i> + forming herself on the Antique.” + </p> + <p> + Zack went immediately to look at Madonna’s drawing, the outline of which + was now finished. “Beautiful! Splendid! Ah! confound it! yes! the glorious + Greeks, and so forth, just as you say, Blyth. A most wonderful drawing! + the finest thing of the kind I ever saw in my life!” Here he transferred + his superlatives to his fingers, communicating them to Madonna through the + medium of the deaf and dumb alphabet, which he had superficially mastered + with extraordinary rapidity under Mr. and Mrs. Blyth’s tuition. Whatever + Zack’s friends did Zack always admired with the wildest enthusiasm, and + without an instant’s previous consideration. Any knowledge of what he + praised, or why he praised it, was a slight superfluity of which he never + felt the want. If Madonna had been a great astronomer, and had shown him + pages of mathematical calculations, he would have overwhelmed her with + eulogies just as glibly as—by means of the finger alphabet—he + was overwhelming her now. + </p> + <p> + But Valentine’s pupil was used to be criticized as well as praised; and + her head was in no danger of being turned by Zack’s admiration of her + drawing. Looking up at him with a sly expression of incredulity, she + signed these words in reply:—“I am afraid it ought to be a much + better drawing than it is. Do you really like it?” Zack rejoined + impetuously by a fresh torrent of superlatives. She watched his face, for + a moment, rather anxiously and inquiringly, then bent down quickly over + her drawing. He walked back to Valentine. Her eyes followed him—then + returned once more to the paper before her. The color began to rise again + in her cheek; a thoughtful expression stole calmly over her clear, happy + eyes; she played nervously with the port-crayon that held her black and + white chalk; looked attentively at the drawing; and, smiling very prettily + at some fancy of her own, proceeded assiduously with her employment, + altering and amending, as she went on, with more than usual industry and + care. + </p> + <p> + What was Madonna thinking of? If she had been willing, and able, to utter + her thoughts, she might have expressed them thus: “I wonder whether he + likes my drawing? Shall I try hard if I can’t make it better worth + pleasing him? I will! it shall be the best thing I have ever done. And + then, when it is nicely finished, I will take it secretly to Mrs. Blyth to + give from me, as my present to Zack.” + </p> + <p> + “Look there,” said Valentine, turning from his picture towards Madonna, + “look, my boy, how carefully that dear good girl there is working from the + Antique! Only copy her example, and you may be able to draw from the life + in less than a year’s time.” + </p> + <p> + “You don’t say so? I should like to sit down and begin at once. But, look + here, Blyth, when you say ‘draw from the life,’ there can’t be the + smallest doubt, of course, about what you mean—but, at the same + time, if you would only be a little less professional in your way of + expressing yourself—” + </p> + <p> + “Good heavens, Zack, in what barbarous ignorance of art your parents must + have brought you up! ‘Drawing from the life,’ means drawing the living + human figure from the living human being which sits at a shilling an hour, + and calls itself a model.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, to be sure! Some of these very models whose names are chalked up here + over your fireplace?—Delightful! Glorious! Drawing from the life—just + the very thing I long for most. Hullo!” exclaimed Zack, reading the + memoranda, which it was Mr. Blyth’s habit to scrawl, as they occurred to + him, on the wall over the chimney-piece—“Hullo! here’s a + woman-model; ‘Amelia Bibby’—Blyth! let me dash at once into drawing + from the life, and let me begin with Amelia Bibby.” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing of the sort, Master Zack,” said Valentine. “You may end with + Amelia Bibby, when you are fit to study at the Royal Academy. She’s a + capital model, and so is her sister, Sophia. The worst of it is, they + quarreled mortally a little while ago; and now, if an artist has Sophia, + Amelia won’t come to him. And Sophia of course returns the compliment, and + won’t sit to Amelia’s friends. It’s awkward for people who used to employ + them both, as I did.” + </p> + <p> + “What did they quarrel about?” inquired Zack. + </p> + <p> + “About a tea-pot,” answered Mr. Blyth. “You see, they are daughters of one + of the late king’s footmen, and are desperately proud of their + aristocratic origin. They used to live together as happy as birds, without + a hard word ever being spoken between them, till, one day, they happened + to break their tea-pot, which of course set them talking about getting a + new one. Sophia said it ought to be earthenware, like the last; Amelia + contradicted her, and said it ought to be metal. Sophia said all the + aristocracy used earthenware; Amelia said all the aristocracy used metal. + Sophia said she was oldest, and knew best; Amelia said she was youngest, + and knew better. Sophia said Amelia was an impudent jackanapes; Amelia + said Sophia was a plebeian wretch. From that moment, they parted. Sophia + sits in her own lodging, and drinks tea out of earthenware; Amelia sits in + <i>her</i> own lodging, and drinks tea out of metal. They swear never to + make it up, and abuse each other furiously to everybody who will listen to + them. Very shocking, and very curious at the same time—isn’t it, + Zack?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, capital! A perfect picture of human nature to us men of the world,” + exclaimed the young gentleman, smoking with the air of a profound + philosopher. “But tell me, Blyth, which is the prettiest, Amelia or + Sophia? Metal or Earthenware? My mind’s made up, beforehand, to study from + the best-looking of the two, if you have no objection.” + </p> + <p> + “I have the strongest possible objection, Zack, to talking nonsense where + a serious question is concerned. Are you, or are you not, in earnest in + your dislike of commerce and your resolution to be an artist?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean to be a painter, or I mean to leave home,” answered Zack, + resolutely. “If you don’t help me, I’ll be off as sure as fate! I have + half a mind to cut the office from this moment. Lend me a shilling, Blyth; + and I’ll toss up for it. Heads—liberty and the fine arts! Tails—the + tea-merchant!” + </p> + <p> + “If you don’t go back to the City to-day,” said Valentine, “and stick to + your engagements, I wash my hands of you—but if you wait patiently, + and promise to show all the attention you can to your father’s wishes, + I’ll teach you myself to draw from the Antique. If somebody can be found + who has influence enough with your father to get him to enter you at the + Royal Academy, you must be prepared beforehand with a drawing that’s fit + to show. Now, if you promise to be a good boy, you shall come here, and + learn the A B C of Art, every evening if you like. We’ll have a regular + little academy,” continued Valentine, putting down his palette and + brushes, and rubbing his hands in high glee; “and if it isn’t too much for + Lavvie, the evening studies shall take place in her room; and she shall + draw, poor dear soul, as well as the rest of us. There’s an idea for you, + Zack! Mr. Blyth’s Drawing Academy, open every evening—with light + refreshment for industrious students. What do you say to it?” + </p> + <p> + “Say? by George, sir, I’ll come every night, and get through acres of + chalk and miles of drawing paper!” cried Zack, catching all Valentine’s + enthusiasm on the instant. “Let’s go up stairs and tell Mrs. Blyth about + it directly.” + </p> + <p> + “Stop a minute, Zack,” interposed Mr. Blyth. “What time ought you to be + back in the City? it’s close on two o’clock now.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! three o’clock will do. I’ve got lots of time, yet—I can walk it + in half-an-hour.” + </p> + <p> + “You have got about ten minutes more to stay,” said Valentine in his + firmest manner. “Occupy them if you like, in going up stairs to Mrs. + Blyth, and take Madonna with you. I’ll follow as soon as I’ve put away my + brushes.” + </p> + <p> + Saying those words, Mr. Blyth walked to the place where Madonna was still + at work. She was so deeply engaged over her drawing that she had never + once looked up from it, for the last quarter-of-an-hour, or more; and when + Valentine patted her shoulder approvingly, and made her a sign to leave + off, she answered by a gesture of entreaty, which eloquently enough + implored him to let her proceed a little longer with her employment. She + had never at other times claimed an indulgence of this kind, when she was + drawing from the Antique—but then, she had never, at other times, + been occupied in making a copy which was secretly intended as a present + for Zack. + </p> + <p> + Valentine, however, easily induced her to relinquish her port-crayon. He + laid his hand on his heart, which was the sign that had been adopted to + indicate Mrs. Blyth. Madonna started up, and put her drawing materials + aside immediately. + </p> + <p> + Zack, having thrown away the end of his cigar, gallantly advanced and + offered her his arm. As she approached, rather shyly, to take it, he also + laid his hand on his heart, and pointed up stairs. The gesture was quite + enough for her. She understood at once that they were going together to + see Mrs. Blyth. + </p> + <p> + “Whether Zack really turns out a painter or not,” said Valentine to + himself, as the door closed on the two young people, “I believe I have hit + on the best plan that ever was devised for keeping him steady. As long as + he comes to me regularly, he can’t break out at night, and get into + mischief. Upon my word, the more I think of that notion of mine the better + I like it. I shouldn’t at all wonder if my evening Academy doesn’t end in + working the reformation of Zack!” + </p> + <p> + When Mr. Blyth pronounced those last words, if he could only have looked a + little way into the future—if he could only have suspected how + strangely the home-interests dearest to his heart were connected with his + success in working the reformation of Zack—the smile which was now + on his face would have left it in a moment; and, for the first time in his + life, he would have sat before one of his own pictures in the character of + an unhappy man. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. THE TRIBULATIONS OF ZACK. + </h2> + <p> + A week elapsed before Mrs. Blyth’s wavering health permitted her husband + to open the sittings of his evening drawing-academy in the invalid room. + </p> + <p> + During every day of that week, the chances of taming down Zack into a + reformed character grew steadily more and more hopeless. The lad’s + home-position, at this period, claims a moment’s serious attention. Zack’s + resistance to his father’s infatuated severity was now shortly to end in + results of the last importance to himself, to his family, and to his + friends. + </p> + <p> + A specimen has already been presented of Mr. Thorpe’s method of + religiously educating his son, at six years old, by making him attend a + church service of two hours in length; as, also, of the manner in which he + sought to drill the child into premature discipline by dint of Sabbath + restrictions and Select Bible Texts. When that child grew to a boy, and + when the boy developed to a young man, Mr. Thorpe’s educational system + still resolutely persisted in being what it had always been from the + first. His idea of Religion defined it to be a system of prohibitions; + and, by a natural consequence, his idea of Education defined <i>that</i> + to be a system of prohibitions also. + </p> + <p> + His method of bringing up his son once settled, no earthly consideration + could move him from it an inch, one way or the other. He had two favorite + phrases to answer every form of objection, every variety of reasoning, + every citation of examples. No matter with what arguments the surviving + members of Mrs. Thorpe’s family from time to time assailed him, the same + two replies were invariably shot back at them in turn from the parental + quiver. Mr. Thorpe calmly—always calmly—said, first, that he + “would never compound with vice” (which was what nobody asked him to do), + and, secondly, that he would, in no instance, great or small, “consent to + act from a principle of expediency:” this last assertion, in the case of + Zack, being about equivalent to saying that if he set out to walk due + north, and met a lively young bull galloping with his head down, due + south, he would not consent to save his own bones, or yield the animal + space enough to run on, by stepping aside a single inch in a lateral + direction, east or west. + </p> + <p> + “My son requires the most unremitting parental discipline and control,” + Mr. Thorpe remarked, in explanation of his motives for forcing Zack to + adopt a commercial career. “When he is not under my own eye at home, he + must be under the eyes of devout friends, in whom I can place unlimited + confidence. One of these devout friends is ready to receive him into his + counting-house; to keep him industriously occupied from nine in the + morning till six in the evening; to surround him with estimable examples; + and, in short, to share with me the solemn responsibility of managing his + moral and religious training. Persons who ask me to allow motives of this + awfully important nature to be modified in the smallest degree by any + considerations connected with the lad’s natural disposition (which has + been a source of grief to me from his childhood) with his bodily gifts of + the flesh (which have hitherto only served to keep him from the + cultivation of the gifts of the spirit); or with his own desires (which I + know by bitter experience to be all of the world, worldly);—persons, + I say, who ask me to do any of these things, ask me also to act from a + godless principle of expediency, and to violate moral rectitude by + impiously compounding with vice.” + </p> + <p> + Acting on such principles of parental discipline as these, Mr. Thorpe + conscientiously believed that he had done his duty, when he had at last + forced his son into the merchant’s office. He had, in truth, perpetrated + one of the most serious mistakes which it is possible for a wrong-headed + father to commit. For once, Zack had not exaggerated in saying that his + aversion to employment in a counting-house amounted to absolute horror. + His physical peculiarities, and the habits which they had entailed on him + from boyhood, made life in the open air, and the constant use of his hardy + thews and sinews a constitutional necessity. He felt—and there was + no self-delusion in the feeling—that he should mope and pine, like a + wild animal in a cage, under confinement in an office, only varied from + morning to evening by commercial walking expeditions of a miserable mile + or two in close and crowded streets. These forebodings—to say + nothing of his natural yearning towards adventure, change of scene, and + exhilarating bodily exertion—would have been sufficient of + themselves to have decided him to leave his home, and battle his way + through the world (he cared not where or how, so long as he battled it + freely), but for one consideration. Reckless as he was, that consideration + stayed his feet on the brink of a sacred threshold which he dared not + pass, perhaps to leave it behind him for ever—the threshold of his + mother’s door. + </p> + <p> + Strangely as it expressed itself, and irregularly as it influenced his + conduct, Zack’s love for his mother was yet, in its own nature, a + beautiful and admirable element in his character; full of promise for the + future, if his father had been able to discover it, and had been wise + enough to be guided by the discovery. As to outward expression, the lad’s + fondness for Mrs. Thorpe was a wild, boisterous, inconsiderate, + unsentimental fondness, noisily in harmony with his thoughtless, + rattle-pated disposition. It swayed him by fits and starts; influencing + him nobly to patience and forbearance at one time; abandoning him, to all + appearance, at another. But it was genuine, ineradicable fondness, + nevertheless—however often heedlessness and temptation might + overpower the still small voice in which its impulses spoke to his + conscience, and pleaded with his heart. + </p> + <p> + Among other unlucky results of Mr. Thorpe’s conscientious imprisonment of + his son in a merchant’s office, was the vast increase which Zack’s + commercial penance produced in his natural appetite for the amusements and + dissipations of the town. After nine hours of the most ungrateful daily + labor that could well have been inflicted on him, the sight of play-bills + and other wayside advertisements of places of public recreation appealed + to him on his way home, with irresistible fascination. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Thorpe drew the line of demarcation between permissible and forbidden + evening amusements at the lecture-rooms of the Royal and Polytechnic + Institutions, and the oratorio performances in Exeter Hall. All gates + opening on the outer side of the boundary thus laid down, were gates of + Vice—gates that no son of his should ever be allowed to pass. The + domestic laws which obliged Zack to be home every night at eleven o’clock, + and forbade the possession of a door-key, were directed especially to the + purpose of closing up against him the forbidden entrances to theaters and + public gardens—places of resort which Mr. Thorpe characterized, in a + strain of devout allegory, as “Labyrinths of National Infamy.” It was + perfectly useless to suggest to the father (as some of Zack’s maternal + relatives did suggest to him), that the son was originally descended from + Eve, and was consequently possessed of an hereditary tendency to pluck at + forbidden fruit; and that his disposition and age made it next to a + certainty, that if he were restrained from enjoying openly the amusements + most attractive to him, he would probably end in enjoying them by stealth. + Mr. Thorpe met all arguments of this kind by registering his usual protest + against “compounding with vice;” and then drew the reins of discipline + tighter than ever, by way of warning off all intrusive hands from + attempting to relax them for the future. + </p> + <p> + Before long, the evil results predicted by the opponents of the father’s + plan for preventing the son from indulging in public amusements, actually + occurred. At first, Zack gratified his taste for the drama, by going to + the theater whenever he felt inclined; leaving the performances early + enough to get home by eleven o’clock, and candidly acknowledging how he + had occupied the evening, when the question was asked at breakfast the + next morning. This frankness of confession was always rewarded by rebukes, + threats, and reiterated prohibitions, administered by Mr. Thorpe with a + crushing assumption of superiority to every mitigating argument, entreaty, + or excuse that his son could urge, which often irritated Zack into + answering defiantly, and recklessly repeating his offense. Finding that + all menaces and reproofs only ended in making the lad ill-tempered and + insubordinate for days together, Mr. Thorpe so far distrusted his own + powers of correction as to call in the aid of his prime clerical adviser, + the Reverend Aaron Yollop; under whose ministry he sat, and whose + portrait, in lithograph, hung in the best light on the dining-room wall at + Baregrove Square. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Yollop’s interference was at least weighty enough to produce a + positive and immediate result: it drove Zack to the very last limits of + human endurance. The reverend gentleman’s imperturbable self possession + defied the young rebel’s utmost powers of irritating reply, no matter how + vigorously he might exert them. Once vested with the paternal commission + to rebuke, prohibit, and lecture, as the spiritual pastor and master of + Mr. Thorpe’s disobedient son, Mr. Yollop flourished in his new vocation in + exact proportion to the resistance offered to the exercise of his + authority. He derived a grim encouragement from the wildest explosions of + Zack’s fury at being interfered with by a man who had no claim of + relationship over him, and who gloried, professionally, in experimenting + on him, as a finely-complicated case of spiritual disease. Thrice did Mr. + Yollop, in his capacity of a moral surgeon, operate on his patient, and + triumph in the responsive yells which his curative exertions elicited. At + the fourth visit of attendance, however, every angry symptom suddenly and + marvelously disappeared before the first significant flourish of the + clerical knife. Mr. Yollop had triumphed where Mr. Thorpe had failed! The + case which had defied lay treatment had yielded to the parsonic process of + cure; and Zack, the rebellious, was tamed at last into spending his + evenings in decorous dullness at home! + </p> + <p> + It never occurred to Mr. Yollop to doubt, or to Mr. Thorpe to ascertain, + whether the young gentleman really went to bed, after he had retired + obediently, at the proper hour, to his sleeping room. They saw him come + home from business sullenly docile and speechlessly subdued, take his + dinner and his book in the evening, and go up stairs quietly, after the + house door had been bolted for the night. They saw him thus acknowledge, + by every outward proof, that he was crushed into thorough submission; and + the sight satisfied them to their heart’s content. No men are so + short-sighted as persecuting men. Both Mr. Thorpe and his coadjutor were + persecutors on principle, wherever they encountered opposition; and both + were consequently incapable of looking beyond immediate results. The sad + truth was, however, that they had done something more than discipline the + lad. They had fairly worried his native virtues of frankness and + fair-dealing out of his heart; they had beaten him back, inch by inch, + into the miry refuge of sheer duplicity. Zack was deceiving them both. + </p> + <p> + Eleven o’clock was the family hour for going to bed at Baregrove Square. + Zack’s first proceeding on entering his room was to open his window + softly, put on an old traveling cap, and light a cigar. It was December + weather at that time; but his hardy constitution rendered him as + impervious to cold as a young Polar bear. Having smoked quietly for half + an hour, he listened at his door till the silence in Mr. Thorpe’s + dressing-room below assured him that his father was safe in bed, and + invited him to descend on tiptoe—with his boots under his arm—into + the hall. Here he placed his candle, with a box of matches by it, on a + chair, and proceeded to open the house door with the noiseless dexterity + of a practiced burglar—being always careful to facilitate the safe + performance of this dangerous operation by keeping lock, bolt, and hinges + well oiled. Having secured the key, blown out the candle, and noiselessly + closed the door behind him, he left the house, and started for the + Haymarket, Covent Garden, or the Strand, a little before midnight—or, + in other words, set forth on a nocturnal tour of amusement, just at the + time when the doors of respectable places of public recreation (which his + father prevented him from attending) were all closed, and the doors of + disreputable places all thrown open. + </p> + <p> + One precaution, and one only, did Zack observe while enjoying the + dangerous diversions into which paternal prohibitions, assisted by filial + perversity, now thrust him headlong, He took care to keep sober enough to + be sure of getting home before the servants had risen, and to be certain + of preserving his steadiness of hand and stealthiness of foot, while + bolting the door and stealing up stairs for an hour or two of bed. + Knowledge of his own perilous weakness of brain, as a drinker, rendered + him thus uncharacteristically temperate and self-restrained, so far as + indulgence in strong liquor was concerned. His first glass of grog + comforted him; his second agreeably excited him; his third (as he knew by + former experience) reached his weak point on a sudden, and robbed him + treacherously of his sobriety. + </p> + <p> + Three or four times a week, for nearly a month, had he now enjoyed his + unhallowed nocturnal rambles with perfect impunity—keeping them + secret even from his friend Mr. Blyth, whose toleration, expansive as it + was, he well knew would not extend to viewing leniently such offenses as + haunting night-houses at two in the morning, while his father believed him + to be safe in bed. But one mitigating circumstance can be urged in + connection with the course of misconduct which he was now habitually + following. He had still grace enough left to feel ashamed of his own + successful duplicity, when he was in his mother’s presence. + </p> + <p> + But circumstances unhappily kept him too much apart from Mrs. Thorpe, and + so prevented the natural growth of a good feeling, which flourished only + under her influence: and which, had it been suffered to arrive at + maturity, might have led to his reform. All day he was at the office, and + his irksome life there only inclined him to look forward with malicious + triumph to the secret frolic of the night. Then, in the evening, Mr. + Thorpe often thought it advisable to harangue him seriously, by way of not + letting the reformed rake relapse for want of a little encouraging + admonition of the moral sort. Nor was Mr. Yollop at all behindhand in + taking similar precautions to secure the new convert permanently, after + having once caught him. Every word these two gentlemen spoke only served + to harden the lad afresh, and to deaden the reproving and reclaiming + influence of his mother’s affectionate looks and confiding words. “I + should get nothing by it, even if I <i>could</i> turn over a new leaf;” + thought Zack, shrewdly and angrily, when his father or his father’s friend + favored him with a little improving advice: “Here they are, worrying away + again already at their pattern good boy, to make him a better.” + </p> + <p> + Such was the point at which the Tribulations of Zack had arrived, at the + period when Mr. Valentine Blyth resolved to set up a domestic Drawing + Academy in his wife’s room; with the double purpose of amusing his family + circle in the evening, and reforming his wild young friend by teaching him + to draw from the “glorious Antique.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. MR. BLYTH’S DRAWING ACADEMY. + </h2> + <p> + When the week of delay had elapsed, and when Mrs. Blyth felt strong enough + to receive company in her room, Valentine sent the promised invitation to + Zack which summoned him to his first drawing-lesson. + </p> + <p> + The locality in which the family drawing academy was to be held deserves a + word of preliminary notice. It formed the narrow world which bounded, by + day and night alike, the existence of the painter’s wife. + </p> + <p> + By throwing down a partition-wall, Mrs. Blyth’s room had been so enlarged, + as to extend along the whole breadth of one side of the house, measuring + from the front to the back garden windows. Considerable as the space was + which had been thus obtained, every part of it from floor to ceiling was + occupied by objects of beauty proper to the sphere in which they were + placed: some, solid and serviceable, where usefulness was demanded; others + light and elegant, where ornament alone was necessary—and all won + gloriously by Valentine’s brush; by the long, loving, unselfish industry + of many years. Mrs. Blyth’s bed, like everything else that she used in her + room, was so arranged as to offer her the most perfect comfort and luxury + attainable in her suffering condition. The framework was broad enough to + include within its dimensions a couch for day and a bed for night. Her + reading easel and work-table could be moved within reach, in whatever + position she lay. Immediately above her hung an extraordinary complication + of loose cords, which ran through ornamental pulleys of the quaintest + kind, fixed at different places in the ceiling, and communicating with the + bell, the door, and a pane of glass in the window which opened easily on + hinges. These were Valentine’s own contrivances to enable his wife to + summon attendance, admit visitors, and regulate the temperature of her + room at will, by merely pulling at any one of the loops hanging within + reach of her hand, and neatly labeled with ivory tablets, inscribed + “Bell,” “Door,” “Window.” The cords comprising this rigging for invalid + use were at least five times more numerous than was necessary for the + purpose they were designed to serve; but Mrs. Blyth would never allow them + to be simplified by dexterous hands. Clumsy as their arrangement might + appear to others, in her eyes it was without a fault: every useless cord + was sacred from the reforming knife, for Valentine’s sake. + </p> + <p> + Imprisoned to one room, as she had now been for years, she had not lost + her natural womanly interest in the little occupations and events of + household life. From the studio to the kitchen, she managed every day, + through channels of communication invented by herself, to find out the + latest domestic news; to be present in spirit at least if not in body, at + family consultations which could not take place in her room; to know + exactly how her husband was getting on downstairs with his pictures; to + rectify in time any omission of which Mr. Blyth or Madonna might be guilty + in making the dinner arrangements, or in sending orders to tradespeople; + to keep the servants attentive to their work, and to indulge or control + them, as the occasion might require. Neither by look nor manner did she + betray any of the sullen listlessness or fretful impatience sometimes + attendant on long, incurable illness. Her voice, low as its tones were, + was always cheerful, and varied musically and pleasantly with her varying + thoughts. On her days of weakness, when she suffered much under her + malady, she was accustomed to be quite still and quiet, and to keep her + room darkened—these being the only signs by which any increase in + her disorder could be detected by those about her. She never complained + when the bad symptoms came on; and never voluntarily admitted, even on + being questioned, that the spine was more painful to her than usual. + </p> + <p> + She was dressed very prettily for the opening night of the Drawing + Academy, wearing a delicate lace cap, and a new silk gown of Valentine’s + choosing, made full enough to hide the emaciation of her figure. Her + husband’s love, faithful through all affliction and change to the girlish + image of its first worship, still affectionately exacted from her as much + attention to the graces and luxuries of dress as she might have bestowed + on them of her own accord, in the best and gayest days of youth and + health. She had never looked happier and better in any new gown than in + that, which Mr. Blyth had insisted on giving her, to commemorate the + establishment of the domestic drawing school in her own room. + </p> + <p> + Seven o’clock had been fixed as the hour at which the business of the + academy was to begin. Always punctual, wherever his professional + engagements were concerned, Valentine put the finishing touch to his + preparations as the clock struck; and perching himself gaily on a corner + of Mrs. Blyth’s couch, surveyed his drawing-boards, his lamps, and the + plaster cast set up for his pupils to draw from, with bland artistic + triumph. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Lavvie,” he said, “before Zack comes and confuses me, I’ll just + check off all the drawing things one after another, to make sure that + nothing’s left down stairs in the studio, which ought to be up here.” + </p> + <p> + As her husband said these words, Mrs. Blyth touched Madonna gently on the + shoulder. For some little time the girl had been sitting thoughtfully, + with her head bent down, her cheek resting on her hand, and a bright smile + just parting her lips very prettily. The affliction which separated her + from the worlds of hearing and speech—which set her apart among her + fellow-creatures, a solitary living being in a sphere of death-silence + that others might approach, but might never enter—gave a touching + significance to the deep, meditative stillness that often passed over her + suddenly, even in the society of her adopted parents, and of friends who + were all talking around her. Sometimes, the thoughts by which she was thus + absorbed—thoughts only indicated to others by the shadow of their + mysterious presence, moving in the expression that passed over her face—held + her long under their influence: sometimes, they seemed to die away in her + mind almost as suddenly as they had arisen to life in it. It was one of + Valentine’s many eccentric fancies that she was not meditating only, at + such times as these, but that, deaf and dumb as she was with the creatures + of this world, she could talk with the angels, and could hear what the + heavenly voices said to her in return. + </p> + <p> + The moment she was touched on the shoulder, she looked up, and nestled + close to her adopted mother; who, passing one arm round her neck, + explained to her, by means of the manual signs of the deaf and dumb + alphabet, what Valentine was saying at that moment. + </p> + <p> + Nothing was more characteristic of Mrs. Blyth’s warm sympathies and + affectionate consideration for Madonna than this little action. The + kindest people rarely think it necessary, however well practiced in + communicating by the fingers with the deaf, to keep them informed of any + ordinary conversation which may be proceeding in their presence. Wise + disquisitions, witty sayings, curious stories, are conveyed to their minds + by sympathizing friends and relatives, as a matter of course; but the + little chatty nothings of everyday talk, which most pleasantly and + constantly employ our speaking and address our hearing faculties, are + thought too slight and fugitive in their nature to be worthy of + transmission by interpreting fingers or pens, and are consequently seldom + or never communicated to the deaf. No deprivation attending their + affliction is more severely felt by them than the special deprivation + which thus ensues; and which exiles their sympathies, in a great measure, + from all share in the familiar social interests of life around them. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Blyth’s kind heart, quick intelligence, and devoted affection for her + adopted child, had long since impressed it on her, as the first of duties + and pleasures, to prevent Madonna from feeling the excluding influences of + her calamity, while in the society of others, by keeping her well informed + of every one of the many conversations, whether jesting or earnest, that + were held in her presence, in the invalid-room. For years and years past, + Mrs. Blyth’s nimble fingers had been accustomed to interpret all that was + said by her bedside before the deaf and dumb girl, as they were + interpreting for her now. + </p> + <p> + “Just stop me, Lavvie, if I miss anything out, in making sure that I’ve + got all that’s wanted for everybody’s drawing lesson,” said Valentine, + preparing to reckon up the list of his materials correctly, by placing his + right forefinger on his left thumb. “First, there’s the statue that all my + students are to draw from—the Dying Gladiator. Secondly, the + drawing-boards and paper. Thirdly, the black and white chalk. Fourthly,—where + are the port-crayons to hold the chalk? Down in the painting-room, of + course. No! no! don’t trouble Madonna to fetch them. Tell her to poke the + fire instead: I’ll be back directly.” And Mr. Blyth skipped out of the + room as nimbly as if he had been fifteen instead of fifty. + </p> + <p> + No sooner was Valentine’s back turned than Mrs. Blyth’s hand was passed + under the pretty swan’s-down coverlet that lay over her couch, as if in + search of something hidden beneath it. In a moment the hand reappeared, + holding a chalk drawing very neatly framed. It was Madonna’s copy from the + head of the Venus de’ Medici—the same copy which Zack had honored + with his most superlative exaggeration of praise, at his last visit to the + studio. She had not since forgotten, or altered her purpose of making him + a present of the drawing which he had admired so much. It had been + finished with the utmost care and completeness which she could bestow upon + it; had been put into a very pretty frame which she had paid for out of + her own little savings of pocket-money; and was now hidden under Mrs. + Blyth’s coverlet, to be drawn forth as a grand surprise for Zack, and for + Valentine too, on that very evening. + </p> + <p> + After looking once or twice backwards and forwards between the copyist and + the copy, her pale kind face beaming with the quiet merriment that + overspread it, Mrs. Blyth laid down the drawing, and began talking with + her fingers to Madonna. + </p> + <p> + “So you will not even let me tell Valentine who this is a present for?” + were the first words which she signed. + </p> + <p> + The girl was sitting with her back half turned on the drawing; glancing at + it quickly from time to time with a strange shyness and indecision, as if + the work of her own hands had undergone some transformation which made her + doubt whether she was any longer privileged to look at it. She shook her + head in reply to the question just put to her, then moved round suddenly + on her chair; her fingers playing nervously with the fringes of the + coverlet at her side. + </p> + <p> + “We all like Zack,” proceeded Mrs. Blyth, enjoying the amusement which her + womanly instincts extracted from Madonna’s confusion; “but you must like + him very much, love, to take more pains with this particular drawing than + with any drawing you ever did before.” + </p> + <p> + This time Madonna neither looked up nor moved an inch in her chair, her + fingers working more and more nervously amid the fringe; her treacherous + cheeks, neck, and bosom answered for her. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Blyth touched her shoulder gaily, and, after placing the drawing + again under the coverlet, made her look up, while signing these words; + </p> + <p> + “I shall give the drawing to Zack very soon after he comes in. It is sure + to make him happy for the rest of the evening, and fonder of you than + ever.” + </p> + <p> + Madonna’s eyes followed Mrs. Blyth’s fingers eagerly to the last letter + they formed; then rose softly to her face with the same wistful + questioning look which they had assumed before Valentine, years and years + ago, when he first interfered to protect her in the traveling circus. + There was such an irresistible tenderness in the faint smile that wavered + about her lips; such a sadness of innocent beauty in her face, now growing + a shade paler than it was wont to be, that Mrs. Blyth’s expression became + serious the instant their eyes met. She drew the girl forward and kissed + her. The kiss was returned many times, with a passionate warmth and + eagerness remarkably at variance with the usual gentleness of all + Madonna’s actions. What had changed her thus? Before it was possible to + inquire or to think, she had broken away from the kind arms that were + round her, and was kneeling with her face hidden in the pillows that lay + over the head of the couch. + </p> + <p> + “I must quiet her directly. I ought to make her feel that this is wrong,” + said Mrs. Blyth to herself; looking startled and grieved as she withdrew + her hand wet with tears, after trying vainly to raise the girl’s face from + the pillows. “She has been thinking too much lately—too much about + that drawing; too much, I am afraid, about Zack.” + </p> + <p> + Just at that moment Mr. Blyth opened the door. Feeling the slight shock, + as he let it bang to after entering, Madonna instantly started up and ran + to the fireplace. Valentine did not notice her when he came in. + </p> + <p> + He bustled about the neighborhood of the Dying Gladiator, talking + incessantly, arranging his port-crayons by the drawing-boards, and + trimming the lamps that lit the model. Mrs. Blyth cast many an anxious + look towards the fireplace. After the lapse of a few minutes Madonna + turned round and came back to the couch. The traces of tears had almost + entirely disappeared from her face. She made a little appealing gesture + that asked Mrs. Blyth to be silent about what had happened while they were + alone; kissed, as a sign that she wished to be forgiven, the hand that was + held out to her; and then sat down quietly again in her accustomed place. + </p> + <p> + At the same moment a voice was heard talking and laughing boisterously in + the hall. Then followed a long whispering, succeeded by a burst of + giggling from the housemaid, who presently ascended to Mrs. Blyth’s room + alone, and entered—after an explosion of suppressed laughter behind + the door—holding out at arm’s length a pair of boxing-gloves. + </p> + <p> + “If you please, sir,” said the girl, addressing Valentine, and tittering + hysterically at every third word, “Master Zack’s down stairs on the + landing, and he says you’re to be so kind as put on these things (he’s + putting another pair on hisself) and give him the pleasure of your company + for a few minutes in the painting-room.” + </p> + <p> + “Come on, Blyth,” cried the voice from the stairs. “I told you I should + bring the gloves, and make a fighting man of you, last time I was here, + you know. Come on! I only want to open your chest by knocking you about a + little in the painting-room before we begin to draw.” + </p> + <p> + The servant still held the gloves away from her at the full stretch of her + arm, as if she feared they were yet alive with the pugilistic energies + that had been imparted to them by their last wearer. Mrs. Blyth burst out + laughing, Valentine followed her example. The housemaid began to look + bewildered, and begged to know if her master would be so kind as to take + “the things” away from her. + </p> + <p> + “Did you say, come up stairs?” continued the voice outside. “All right; I + have no objection, if Mrs. Blyth hasn’t.” Here Zack came in with his + boxing-gloves fitted on. “How are you, Blyth? These are the pills for that + sluggish old liver of yours that you’re always complaining of. Put ‘em on. + Stand with your left leg forward—keep your right leg easily bent—and + fix your eye on me!” + </p> + <p> + “Hold your tongue!” cried Mr. Blyth, at last recovering breath enough to + assert his dignity as master of the new drawing-school. “Take off those + things directly! What do you mean, sir, by coming into my academy, which + is devoted to the peaceful arts, in the attitude of a prize-fighter?” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t lose your temper, my dear fellow,” rejoined Zack; “you will never + learn to use your fists prettily if you do. Here, Patty, the boxing + lesson’s put off till to-morrow. Take the gloves up-stairs into your + master’s dressing-room, and put them in the drawer where his clean shirts + are, because they must be kept nice and dry. Shake hands, Mrs. Blyth: it + does one good to see you laugh like that, you look so much the better for + it. And how is Madonna? I’m afraid she’s been sitting before the fire, and + trying to spoil her pretty complexion. Why, what’s the matter with her? + Poor little darling, her hands are quite cold!” + </p> + <p> + “Come to your lesson, sir, directly,” said Valentine, assuming his most + despotic voice, and leading the disorderly student by the collar to his + appointed place. + </p> + <p> + “Hullo!” cried Zack, looking at the Dying Gladiator. “The gentleman in + plaster’s making a face—I’m afraid he isn’t quite well. I say, + Blyth, is that the statue of an ancient Greek patient, suffering under the + prescription of an ancient Greek physician?” + </p> + <p> + <i>“Will</i> you hold your tongue and take up your drawing-board?” cried + Mr. Blyth. “You young barbarian, you deserve to be expelled my academy for + talking in that way of the Dying Gladiator. Now then; where’s Madonna? No! + stop where you are, Zack. I’ll show her her place, and give her the + drawing-board. Wait a minute, Lavvie! Let me prop you up comfortably with + the pillows before you begin. There! I never saw a more beautiful effect + of light and shade, my dear, than there is on your view of the model. Has + everybody got a port-crayon and two bits of chalk? Yes, everybody has. + Order! order! order!” shouted Valentine, suddenly forgetting his assumed + dignity in the exultation of the moment. “Mr. Blyth’s drawing academy for + the promotion of family Art is now open, and ready for general inspection. + Hooray!” + </p> + <p> + “Hooray!” echoed Zack, “hooray for family Art! I say, Blyth, which chalk + do I begin with—the white or the black? The black—eh? Do I + start with the what’s his name’s wry face? and if so, where am I to begin? + With his eyes, or his nose, or his mouth, or the top of his head, or the + bottom of his chin—or what?” + </p> + <p> + “First sketch in the general form with a light and flowing stroke, and + without attention to details,” said Mr. Blyth, illustrating these + directions by waving his hand gracefully about his own person. “Then + measure with the eye, assisted occasionally by the port-crayon, the + proportion of the parts. Then put dots on the paper; a dot where his head + comes; another dot where his elbows and knees come, and so forth. Then + strike it all in boldly—it’s impossible to give you better advice + than that—strike it in, Zack; strike it in boldly!” + </p> + <p> + “Here goes at his head and shoulders to begin with,” said Zack, taking one + comprehensive and confident look at the Dying Gladiator, and drawing a + huge half circle, with a preliminary flourish of his hand on the paper. + “Oh, confound it, I’ve broken the chalk!” + </p> + <p> + “Of course you have,” retorted Valentine. “Take another bit; the Academy + grants supplementary chalk to ignorant students, who dig their lines on + the paper, instead of drawing them. Now, break off a bit of that + bread-crumb, and rub out what you have done. ‘Buy a penny loaf, and rub it + all out,’ as Mr. Fuseli once said to me in the Schools of the Royal + Academy, when I showed him my first drawing, and was excessively conceited + about it.” + </p> + <p> + “I remember,” said Mrs. Blyth, “when my father was working at his great + engraving, from Mr. Scumble’s picture of the ‘Fair Gleaner Surprised,’ + that he used often to say how much harder his art was than drawing, + because you couldn’t rub out a false line on copper, like you could on + paper. We all thought he never would get that print done, he used to groan + over it so in the front drawing-room, where he was then at work. And the + publishers paid him infamously, all in bills, which he had to get + discounted; and the people who gave him the money cheated him. My mother + said it served him right for being always so imprudent; which I thought + very hard on him, and I took his part—so harassed too as he was by + the tradespeople at that time.” + </p> + <p> + “I can feel for him, my love,” said Valentine, pointing a piece of chalk + for Zack. “The tradespeople have harassed <i>me</i>—not because I + could not pay them certainly, but because I could not add up their bills. + Never owe any man enough, Zack, to give him the chance of punishing you + for being in his debt, with a sum to do in simple addition. At the time + when I had bills (go on with your drawing; you can listen, and draw too), + I used, of course, to think it necessary to check the tradespeople, and + see that their Total was right. You will hardly believe me, but I don’t + remember ever making the sum what the shop made it, on more than about + three occasions. And, what was worse, if I tried a second time, I could + not even get it to agree with what I had made it myself the first time. + Thank Heaven, I’ve no difficulties of that sort to grapple with now! + Everything’s paid for the moment it comes in. If the butcher hands a leg + of mutton to the cook over the airey railings, the cook hands him back six + and nine—or whatever it is—and takes his bill and receipt. I + eat my dinners now, with the blessed conviction that they won’t all + disagree with me in an arithmetical point of view at the end of the year. + What are you stopping and scratching your head for in that way?” + </p> + <p> + “It’s no use,” replied Zack; “I’ve tried it a dozen times, and I find I + can’t draw a Gladiator’s nose.” + </p> + <p> + “Can’t!” cried Mr. Blyth, “what do you mean by applying the word ‘can’t’ + to any process of art in <i>my</i> presence? There, that’s the line of the + Gladiator’s nose. Go over it yourself with this fresh piece of chalk. No; + wait a minute. Come here first, and see how Madonna is striking in the + figure; the front view of it, remember, which is the most difficult. She + hasn’t worked as fast as usual, though. Do you find your view of the model + a little too much for you, my love?” continued Valentine, transferring the + last words to his fingers, to communicate them to Madonna. + </p> + <p> + She shook her head in answer. It was not the difficulty of drawing from + the cast before her, but the difficulty of drawing at all, which was + retarding her progress. Her thoughts would wander to the copy of the Venus + de Medici that was hidden under Mrs. Blyth’s coverlid; would vibrate + between trembling eagerness to see it presented without longer delay, and + groundless apprehension that Zack might, after all, not remember it, or + not care to have it when it was given to him. And as her thoughts + wandered, so her eyes followed them. Now she stole an anxious, inquiring + look at Mrs. Blyth, to see if her hand was straying towards the hidden + drawing. Now she glanced shyly at Zack—only by moments at a time, + and only when he was hardest at work with his port-crayon—to assure + herself that he was always in the same good humor, and likely to receive + her little present kindly, and with some appearance of being pleased to + see what pains she had taken with it. In this way her attention wandered + incessantly from her employment; and thus it was that she made so much + less progress than usual, and caused Mr. Blyth to suspect that the task he + had set her was almost beyond her abilities. + </p> + <p> + “Splendid beginning, isn’t it?” said Zack, looking over her drawing. “I + defy the whole Royal Academy to equal it,” continued the young gentleman, + scrawling this uncompromising expression of opinion on the blank space at + the bottom of Madonna’s drawing, and signing his name with a magnificent + flourish at the end. + </p> + <p> + His arm touched her shoulder while he wrote. She colored a little, and + glanced at him, playfully affecting to look very proud of his sentence of + approval—then hurriedly resumed her drawing as their eyes met. He + was sent back to his place by Valentine before he could write anything + more. She took some of the bread-crumb near her to rub out what he had + written—hesitated as her hand approached the lines—colored + more deeply than before, and went on with her drawing, leaving the letters + beneath it to remain just as young Thorpe had traced them. + </p> + <p> + “I shall never be able to draw as well as she does,” said Zack, looking at + the little he had done with a groan of despair. “The fact is, I don’t + think drawing’s my forte. It’s color, depend upon it. Only wait till I + come to that; and see how I’ll lay on the paint! Didn’t you find drawing + infernally difficult, Blyth, when you first began?” + </p> + <p> + “I find it difficult still, Master Zack,” replied Mr. Blyth. “Art wouldn’t + be the glorious thing it is, if it wasn’t all difficulty from beginning to + end; if it didn’t force out all the fine points in a man’s character as + soon as he takes to it. Just eight o’clock,” continued Valentine, looking + at his watch. “Put down your drawing-boards for the present. I pronounce + the sitting of this Academy to be suspended till after tea.” + </p> + <p> + “Valentine, dear,” said Mrs. Blyth, smiling mysteriously, as she slipped + her hand under the coverlid of the couch, “I can’t get Madonna to look at + me, and I want her here. Will you oblige me by bringing her to my + bedside?” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly, my love,” returned Mr. Blyth, obeying the request. “You have a + double claim on my services to-night, for you have shown yourself the most + promising of my pupils. Come here, Zack, and see what Mrs. Blyth has done. + The best drawing of the evening—just what I thought it would be—the + best drawing of the evening!” + </p> + <p> + Zack, who had been yawning disconsolately over his own copy, with his + fists stuck into his cheeks, and his elbows on his knees, bustled up to + the couch directly. As he approached, Madonna tried to get back to her + former position at the fireplace, but was prevented by Mrs. Blyth, who + kept tight hold of her hand. Just then, Zack fixed his eyes on her and + increased her confusion. + </p> + <p> + “She looks prettier than ever to-night, don’t she, Mrs. Blyth?” he said, + sitting down and yawning again. “I always like her best when her eyes + brighten up and look twenty different ways in a minute, just as they’re + doing now. She may not be so like Raphael’s pictures at such times, I dare + say (here he yawned once more); but for my part—What’s she wanting + to get away for? And what are you laughing about, Mrs. Blyth? I say, + Valentine, there’s some joke going on here between the ladies!” + </p> + <p> + “Do you remember this, Zack?” asked Mrs. Blyth, tightening her hold of + Madonna with one hand, and producing the framed drawing of the Venus de’ + Medici with the other. + </p> + <p> + “Madonna’s copy from my bust of the Venus!” cried Valentine, interposing + with his usual readiness, and skipping forward with his accustomed + alacrity. + </p> + <p> + “Madonna’s copy from Blyth’s bust of the Venus,” echoed Zack, coolly; his + slippery memory not having preserved the slightest recollection of the + drawing at first sight of it. + </p> + <p> + “Dear me! how nicely it’s framed, and how beautifully she has finished + it!” pursued Valentine, gently patting Madonna’s shoulder, in token of his + high approval and admiration. + </p> + <p> + “Very nicely framed, and beautifully finished, as you say, Blyth,” glibly + repeated Zack, rising from his chair, and looking rather perplexed, as he + noticed the expression with which Mrs. Blyth was regarding him. + </p> + <p> + “But who got it framed?” asked Valentine. “She would never have any of her + drawings framed before. I don’t understand what it all means.” + </p> + <p> + “No more do I,” said Zack, dropping back into his chair in lazy + astonishment. “Is it some riddle, Mrs. Blyth? Something about why is + Madonna like the Venus de’ Medici, eh? If it is, I object to the riddle, + because she’s a deal prettier than any plaster face that ever was made. + Your face beats Venus’s hollow,” continued Zack, communicating this + bluntly sincere compliment to Madonna by the signs of the deaf and dumb + alphabet. + </p> + <p> + She smiled as she watched the motion of his fingers—perhaps at his + mistakes, for he made two in expressing one short sentence of five words—perhaps + at the compliment, homely as it was. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you men, how dreadfully stupid you are sometimes!” exclaimed Mrs. + Blyth. “Why, Valentine, dear, it’s the easiest thing in the world to guess + what she has had the drawing framed for. To make it a present to somebody, + of course! And who does she mean to give it to?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! who indeed?” interrupted Zack, sliding down cozily in his chair, + resting his head on the back rail, and spreading his legs out before him + at full stretch. + </p> + <p> + “I have a great mind to throw the drawing at your head, instead of giving + it to you!” cried Mrs. Blyth, losing all patience. + </p> + <p> + “You don’t mean to say the drawing’s a present to <i>me!”</i> exclaimed + Zack, starting from his chair with one prodigious jump of astonishment. + </p> + <p> + “You deserve to have your ears well boxed for not having guessed that it + was long ago!” retorted Mrs. Blyth. “Have you forgotten how you praised + that very drawing, when you saw it begun in the studio? Didn’t you tell + Madonna—” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! the dear, good, generous, jolly little soul!” cried Zack, snatching + up the drawing from the couch, as the truth burst upon him at last in a + flash of conviction. “Tell her on <i>your</i> fingers, Mrs. Blyth, how + proud I am of my present. I can’t do it with mine, because I can’t let go + of the drawing. Here, look here!—make her look here, and see how I + like it!” And Zack hugged the copy of the Venus de’ Medici to his + waistcoat, by way of showing how highly he prized it. + </p> + <p> + At this outburst of sentimental pantomime, Madonna raised her head and + glanced at young Thorpe. Her face, downcast, anxious, and averted even + from Mrs. Blyth’s eyes during the last few minutes (as if she had guessed + every word that could pain her, out of all that had been said in her + presence), now brightened again with pleasure as she looked up—with + innocent, childish pleasure, that affected no reserve, dreaded no + misconstruction, foreboded no disappointment. Her eyes, turning quickly + from Zack, and appealing gaily to Valentine, beamed with triumph when he + pointed to the drawing, and smilingly raised his hands in astonishment, as + a sign that he had been pleasantly surprised by the presentation of her + drawing to his new pupil. Mrs. Blyth felt the hand which she still held in + hers, and which had hitherto trembled a little from time to time, grow + steady and warm in her grasp, and dropped it. There was no fear that + Madonna would now leave the side of the couch and steal away by herself to + the fireplace. + </p> + <p> + “Go on, Mrs. Blyth—you never make mistakes in talking on your + fingers, and I always do—go on, please, and tell her how much I + thank her,” continued Zack, holding out the drawing at arm’s length, and + looking at it with his head on one side, by way of imitating Valentine’s + manner of studying his own pictures. “Tell her I’ll take such care of it + as I never took of anything before in my life. Tell her I’ll hang it up in + my bed-room, where I can see it every morning as soon as I wake. Have you + told her that?—or shall I write it on her slate? Hullo! here comes + the tea. And, by heavens, a whole bagful of muffins! What!!! the kitchen + fire’s too black to toast them. <i>I’ll</i> undertake the whole lot in the + drawing academy. Here, Patty, give us the toasting-fork: I’m going to + begin. I never saw such a splendid fire for toasting muffins before in my + life! Rum-dum-diddy-iddy-dum-dee, dum-diddy-iddy-dum!” And Zack fell on + his knees at the fireplace, humming “Rule Britannia,” and toasting his + first muffin in triumph; utterly forgetting that he had left Madonna’s + drawing lying neglected, with its face downwards, on the end of Mrs. + Blyth’s couch. + </p> + <p> + Valentine, who in the innocence of his heart suspected nothing, burst out + laughing at this new specimen of Zack’s inveterate flightiness. His kind + instincts, however, guided his hand at the same moment to the drawing. He + took it up carefully, and placed it on a low bookcase at the opposite side + of the room. If any increase had been possible in his wife’s affection for + him, she would have loved him better than ever at the moment when he + performed that one little action. + </p> + <p> + As her husband removed the drawing, Mrs. Blyth looked at Madonna. The poor + girl stood shrinking close to the couch, with her hands clasped tightly + together in front of her, and with no trace of their natural lovely color + left on her cheeks. Her eyes followed Valentine listlessly to the + bookcase, then turned towards Zack, not reproachfully nor angrily—not + even tearfully—but again with that same look of patient sadness, of + gentle resignation to sorrow, which used to mark their expression so + tenderly in the days of her bondage among the mountebanks of the traveling + circus. So she stood, looking towards the fireplace and the figure + kneeling at it, bearing her new disappointment just as she had borne many + a former mortification that had tried her sorely while she was yet a + little child. How carefully she had labored at that neglected drawing in + the secrecy of her own room! How happy she had been in anticipating the + moment when it would be given to young Thorpe; in imagining what he would + say on receiving it, and how he would communicate his thanks to her; in + wondering what he would do with it when he got it: where he would hang it, + and whether he would often look at his present after he had got used to + seeing it on the wall! Thoughts such as these had made the moment of + presenting that drawing the moment of a great event in her life—and + there it was now, placed on one side by other hands than the hands into + which it had been given; laid down carelessly at the mere entrance of a + servant with a tea-tray; neglected for the childish pleasure of kneeling + on the hearth-rug, and toasting a muffin at a clear coal-fire! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Blyth’s generous, impulsive nature, and sensitively tempered + affection for her adopted child, impelled her to take instant and not very + merciful notice of Zack’s unpardonable thoughtlessness. Her face flushed, + her dark eyes sparkled, as she turned quickly on her couch towards the + fire-place. But, before she could utter a word, Madonna’s hand was on her + lips, and Madonna’s eyes were fixed with a terrified, imploring expression + on her face. The next instant, the girl’s trembling fingers rapidly signed + these words: + </p> + <p> + “Pray—pray don’t say anything! I would not have you speak to him + just now for the world!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Blyth hesitated, and looked towards her husband; but he was away at + the other end of the room, amusing himself professionally by casting the + drapery of the window-curtains hither and thither into all sorts of + picturesque folds. She looked next at Zack. Just at that moment he was + turning his muffin and singing louder than ever. The temptation to startle + him out of his provoking gaiety by a good sharp reproof was almost too + strong to be resisted; but Mrs. Blyth forced herself to resist it, + nevertheless, for Madonna’s sake. She did not, however, communicate with + the girl, either by signs or writing, until she had settled herself again + in her former position; then her fingers expressed these sentences of + reply: + </p> + <p> + “If you promise not to let his thoughtlessness distress you, my love, I + promise not to speak to him about it. Do you agree to that bargain? If you + do, give me a kiss.” + </p> + <p> + Madonna only paused to repress a sigh that was just stealing from her, + before she gave the required pledge. Her cheeks did not recover their + color, nor her lips the smile that had been playing on them earlier in the + evening; but she arranged Mrs. Blyth’s pillow even more carefully than + usual, before she left the couch, and went away to perform as neatly and + prettily as ever, her own little household duty of making the tea. + </p> + <p> + Zack, entirely unconscious of having given pain to one lady and cause of + anger to another, had got on to his second muffin, and had changed his + accompanying song from “Rule Britannia” to the “Lass o’ Gowrie,” when the + hollow, ringing sound of rapidly-running wheels penetrated into the room + from the frosty road outside; advancing nearer and nearer, and then + suddenly ceasing opposite Mr. Blyth’s own door. + </p> + <p> + “Dear me!—surely that’s at our gate,” exclaimed Valentine; “who can + be coming to see us so late, on such a cold night as this? And in a + carriage, too!” + </p> + <p> + “It’s a cab, by the rattling of the wheels, and it brings us the ‘Lass o’ + Gowrie,’” sang Zack, combining the original text of his song, and the + suggestion of a possible visitor, in his concluding words. + </p> + <p> + “Do leave off singing nonsense out of tune, and let us listen when the + door opens,” said Mrs. Blyth, glad to seize the slightest opportunity of + administering the smallest reproof to Zack. + </p> + <p> + “Suppose it should be Mr. Gimble, come to deal at last for that picture of + mine that he has talked of buying so long,” exclaimed Valentine. + </p> + <p> + “Suppose it should be my father!” cried Zack, suddenly turning round on + his knees with a very blank face. “Or that infernal old Yollop, with his + gooseberry eyes and his hands full of tracts. They’re both of them quite + equal to coming after me and spoiling my pleasure here, just as they spoil + it everywhere else.” + </p> + <p> + “Hush!” said Mrs. Blyth. “The visitor has come in, whoever it is. It can’t + be Mr. Gimble, Valentine; he always runs up two stairs at a time.” + </p> + <p> + “And this is one of the heavy-weights. Not an ounce less than sixteen + stone, I should say, by the step,” remarked Zack, letting his muffin burn + while he listened. + </p> + <p> + “It can’t be that tiresome old Lady Brambledown come to worry you again + about altering her picture,” said Mrs. Blyth. + </p> + <p> + “Stop! surely it isn’t—” began Valentine. But before he could say + another word, the door opened; and, to the utter amazement of everybody + but the poor girl whose ear no voice could reach, the servant announced: + </p> + <p> + “MRS. PECKOVER.” <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. THE BREWING OF THE STORM. + </h2> + <p> + Time had lavishly added to Mrs. Peckover’s size, but had generously taken + little or nothing from her in exchange. Her hair had certainly turned grey + since the period when Valentine first met her at the circus; but the + good-humored face beneath was just as hearty to look at now, as ever it + had been in former days. Her cheeks had ruddily expanded; her chin had + passed from the double to the triple stage of jovial development—any + faint traces of a waist which she might formerly have possessed were + utterly obliterated—but it was pleasantly evident, to judge only + from the manner of her bustling entry into Mrs. Blyth’s room, that her + active disposition had lost nothing of its early energy, and could still + gaily defy all corporeal obstructions to the very last. + </p> + <p> + Nodding and smiling at Mr. and Mrs. Blyth, and Zack, till her vast country + bonnet trembled aguishly on her head, the good woman advanced, shaking + every moveable object in the room, straight to the tea-table, and enfolded + Madonna in her capacious arms. The girl’s light figure seemed to disappear + in a smothering circumambient mass of bonnet ribbons and unintelligible + drapery, as Mrs. Peckover saluted her with a rattling fire of kisses, the + report of which was audible above the voluble talking of Mr. Blyth and the + boisterous laughter of Zack. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll tell you all about how I came here directly, sir; only I couldn’t + help saying how-d’ye-do in the old way to little Mary to begin with,” said + Mrs. Peckover apologetically. It had been found impossible to prevail on + her to change the familiar name of “little Mary,” which she had pronounced + so often and so fondly in past years, for the name which had superseded it + in Valentine’s house. The truth was, that this worthy creature knew + nothing whatever about Raphael; and, considering “Madonna” to be an + outlandish foreign word intimately connected with Guy Fawkes and the + Gunpowder Plot, firmly believed that no respectable Englishwoman ought to + compromise her character by attempting to pronounce it. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll tell you, sir—I’ll tell you directly why I’ve come to London,” + repeated Mrs. Peckover, backing majestically from the tea-table, and + rolling round easily on her own axis in the direction of the couch, to ask + for the fullest particulars of the state of Mrs. Blyth’s health. + </p> + <p> + “Much better, my good friend—much better,” was the cheerful answer; + “but do tell us (we are so glad to see you!) how you came to surprise us + all in this way?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, ma’am,” began Mrs. Peckover, “it’s almost as great a surprise to me + to be in London, as it is—Be quiet, young Good-for-Nothing; I won’t + even shake hands with you if you don’t behave yourself!” These last words + she addressed to Zack, whose favorite joke it had always been, from the + day of their first acquaintance at Valentine’s house, to pretend to be + violently in love with her. He was now standing with his arms wide open, + the toasting-fork in one hand and the muffin he had burnt in the other, + trying to look languishing, and entreating Mrs. Peckover to give him a + kiss. + </p> + <p> + “When you know how to toast a muffin properly, p’raps I may give you one,” + said she, chuckling as triumphantly over her own small retort as if she + had been a professed wit. “Do, Mr. Blyth, sir, please to keep him quiet, + or I shan’t be able to get on with a single word of what I’ve got to say. + Well, you see, ma’am, Doctor Joyce—” + </p> + <p> + “How is he?” interrupted Valentine, handing Mrs. Peckover a cup of tea. + </p> + <p> + “He’s the best gentleman in the world, sir, but he will have his glass of + port after dinner; and the end of it is, he’s laid up again with the + gout.” + </p> + <p> + “And Mrs. Joyce?” + </p> + <p> + “Laid up too, sir—it’s a dreadful sick house at the Rectory—laid + up with the inferlenzer.” + </p> + <p> + “Have any of the children caught the influenza too?” asked Mrs. Blyth. “I + hope not.” + </p> + <p> + “No, ma’am, they’re all nicely, except the youngest; and it’s on account + of her—don’t you remember her, sir, growing so fast, when you was + last at the Rectory?—that I’m up in London. + </p> + <p> + “Is the child ill?” asked Valentine anxiously. “She’s such a picturesque + little creature, Lavvie! I long to paint her.” + </p> + <p> + “I’m afraid, sir, she’s not fit to be put into a picter now,” said Mrs. + Peckover. “Mrs. Joyce is in sad trouble about her, because of one of her + shoulders which has growed out somehow. The doctor at Rubbleford don’t + doubt but what it may be got right again; but he said she ought to be + shown to some great London doctor as soon as possible. So, neither her + papa nor her mamma being able to take her up to her aunt’s house, they + trusted her to me. As you know, sir, ever since Doctor Joyce got my + husband that situation at Rubbleford, I’ve been about the Rectory, helping + with the children and the housekeeping, and all that:—and Miss Lucy + being used to me, we come along together in the railroad quite pleasant + and comfortable. I was glad enough, you may be sure, of the chance of + getting here, after not having seen little Mary for so long. So I just + left Miss Lucy at her aunt’s, where they were very kind, and wanted me to + stop all night. But I told them that, thanks to your goodness, I always + had a bed here when I was in London; and I took the cab on, after seeing + the little girl safe and comfortable up-stairs. That’s the whole story of + how I come to surprise you in this way, ma’am,—and now I’ll finish + my tea.” + </p> + <p> + Having got to the bottom of her cup, and to the end of a muffin amorously + presented to her by the incorrigible Zack, Mrs. Peckover had leisure to + turn again to Madonna; who, having relieved her of her bonnet and shawl, + was now sitting close at her side. + </p> + <p> + “I didn’t think she was looking quite so well as usual, when I first come + in,” said Mrs. Peckover, patting the girl’s cheek with her chubby fingers; + “but she seems to have brightened up again now.” (This was true: the sad + stillness had left Madonna’s face, at sight of the friend and mother of + her early days.) “Perhaps she’s been sticking a little too close to her + drawing lately—” + </p> + <p> + “By the bye, talking of drawings, what’s become of my drawing?” cried + Zack, suddenly recalled for the first time to the remembrance of Madonna’s + gift. + </p> + <p> + “Dear me!” pursued Mrs. Peckover, looking towards the three + drawing-boards, which had been placed together round the pedestal of the + cast; “are all those little Mary’s doings? She’s cleverer at it, I + suppose, by this time, than ever. Ah, Lord! what an old woman I feel, when + I think of the many years ago—” + </p> + <p> + “Come and look at what she has done to-night,” interrupted Valentine, + taking Mrs. Peckover by the arm, and pressing it very significantly as he + glanced at the part of the table where young Thorpe was sitting. + </p> + <p> + “My drawing—where’s my drawing?” repeated Zack. “Who put it away + when tea came in? Oh, there it is, all safe on the book case.” + </p> + <p> + “I congratulate you, sir, on having succeeded at last in remembering that + there is such a thing in the world as Madonna’s present,” said Mrs. Blyth + sarcastically. + </p> + <p> + Zack looked up bewildered from his tea, and asked directly what those + words meant. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, never mind,” said Mrs. Blyth in the same tone, “they’re not worth + explaining. Did you ever hear of a young gentleman who thought more of a + plate of muffins than of a lady’s gift? I dare say not! I never did. It’s + too ridiculously improbable to be true, isn’t it? There! don’t speak to + me; I’ve got a book here that I want to finish. No, it’s no use; I shan’t + say another word.” + </p> + <p> + “What have I done that’s wrong?” asked Zack, looking piteously perplexed + as he began to suspect that he had committed some unpardonable mistake + earlier in the evening. “I know I burnt a muffin; but what has that got to + do with Madonna’s present to me?” (Mrs. Blyth shook her head; and, opening + her book, became quite absorbed over it in a moment.) “Didn’t I thank her + properly for it? I’m sure I meant to.” (Here he stopped; but Mrs. Blyth + took no notice of him.) “I suppose I’ve got myself into some scrape? Make + as much fun as you like about it; but tell me what it is. You won’t? Then + I’ll find out all about it from Madonna. She knows, of course; and she’ll + tell me. Look here, Mrs. Blyth; I’m not going to get up till she’s told me + everything.” And Zack, with a comic gesture of entreaty, dropped on his + knees by Madonna’s chair; preventing her from leaving it, which she tried + to do, by taking immediate possession of the slate that hung at her side. + </p> + <p> + While young Thorpe was scribbling questions, protestations, and + extravagances of every kind, in rapid succession, on the slate; and while + Madonna, her face half smiling, half tearful, as she felt that he was + looking up at it—was reading what he wrote, trying hard, at first, + not to believe in him too easily when he scribbled an explanation, and not + to look down on him too leniently when he followed it up by an entreaty; + and ending at last, in defiance of Mrs. Blyth’s private signs to the + contrary, in forgiving his carelessness, and letting him take her hand + again as usual, in token that she was sincere,—while this little + scene of the home drama was proceeding at one end of the room, a scene of + another kind—a dialogue in mysterious whispers—was in full + progress between Mr. Blyth and his visitor from the country, at the other. + </p> + <p> + Time had in no respect lessened Valentine’s morbid anxiety about the + strict concealment of every circumstance attending Mrs. Peckover’s first + connection with Madonna, and Madonna’s mother. The years that had now + passed and left him in undisputed possession of his adopted child, had not + diminished that excess of caution in keeping secret all the little that + was known of her early history, which had even impelled him to pledge + Doctor and Mrs. Joyce never to mention in public any particulars of the + narrative related at the Rectory. Still, he had not got over his first + dread that she might one day be traced, claimed, and taken away from him, + if that narrative, meagre as it was, should ever be trusted to other ears + than those which had originally listened to it. Still, he kept the hair + bracelet and the handkerchief that had belonged to her mother carefully + locked up out of sight in his bureau; and still, he doubted Mrs. + Peckover’s discretion in the government of her tongue, as he had doubted + it in the bygone days when the little girl was first established in his + own home. + </p> + <p> + After making a pretense of showing her the drawings begun that evening, + Mr. Blyth artfully contrived to lead Mrs. Peckover past them into a recess + at the extreme end of the room. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” he said, speaking in an unnecessarily soft whisper, considering + the distance which now separated him from Zack. “Well, I suppose you’re + quite sure of not having let out anything by chance, since I last saw you, + about how you first met with our darling girl? or about her poor mother? + or—?” + </p> + <p> + “What, you’re at it again, sir,” interrupted Mrs. Peckover loftily, but + dropping her voice in imitation of Mr. Blyth,—“a clever man, too, + like you! Dear, dear me! how often must I keep on telling you that I’m old + enough to be able to hold my tongue? How much longer are you going to + worrit yourself about hiding what nobody’s seeking after?” + </p> + <p> + “I’m afraid I shall always worry myself about it,” replied Valentine + seriously. “Whenever I see you, my good friend, I fancy I hear all that + melancholy story over again about our darling child, and that poor lost + forsaken mother of hers, whose name even we don’t know. I feel, too, when + you come and see us, almost more than at other times, how inexpressibly + precious the daughter whom you have given to us is to Lavvie and me; and I + think with more dread than I well know how to describe, of the horrible + chance, if anything was incautiously said, and carried from mouth to mouth—about + where you met with her mother, for instance, or what time of the year it + was, and so forth—that it might lead, nobody knows how, to some + claim being laid to her, by somebody who might be able to prove the right + to make it.” + </p> + <p> + “Lord, sir! after all these years, what earthly need have you to be + anxious about such things as that?” + </p> + <p> + “I’m never anxious long, Mrs. Peckover. My good spirits always get the + better of every anxiety, great and small. But while I don’t know that + relations of hers—perhaps her vile father himself—may not be + still alive, and seeking for her—” + </p> + <p> + “Bless your heart, Mr. Blyth, none of her relations are alive; or if they + are, none of them care about her, poor lamb; I’ll answer for it.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope in God you are right,” said Valentine, earnestly. “But let us + think no more about it now,” he added, resuming his usual manner. “I have + asked my regular question, that I can’t help asking whenever I see you; + and you have forgiven me, as usual, for putting it; and now I am quite + satisfied. Take my arm, Mrs. Peckover: I mean to give the students of my + new drawing academy a holiday for the rest of the night, in honor of your + arrival. What do you say to devoting the evening in the old way to a game + at cards?” + </p> + <p> + “Just what I was thinking I should like myself as long as it’s only + sixpence a game, sir,” said Mrs. Peckover gaily. “I say, young gentleman,” + she continued, addressing Zack after Mr. Blyth had left her to look for + the cards, “what nonsense are you writing on our darling’s slate that puts + her all in a flutter, and makes her blush up to the eyes, when she’s only + looking at her poor old Peck? Bless her heart! she’s just as easily amused + now as when she was a child. Give us another kiss, my own little love. You + understand what I mean, don’t you, though you can’t hear me? Ah, dear, + dear! when she stands and looks at me with her eyes like that, she’s the + living image of—” + </p> + <p> + “Cribbage,” cried Mr. Blyth, knocking a triangular board for three players + on the table, and regarding Mrs. Peckover with the most reproachful + expression that his features could assume. + </p> + <p> + She felt that the look had been deserved, and approached the card-table + rather confusedly, without uttering another word. But for Valentine’s + second interruption she would have declared, before young Thorpe, that + “little Mary” was the living image of her mother. + </p> + <p> + “Madonna’s going to play, as usual. Will you make the third, Lavvie?” + inquired Valentine, shuffling the cards. “It’s no use asking Zack; he + can’t even count yet.” + </p> + <p> + “No, thank you, dear. I shall have quite enough to do in going on with my + book, and trying to keep master Mad-Cap in order while you play,” replied + Mrs. Blyth. + </p> + <p> + The game began. It was a regular custom, whenever Mrs. Peckover came to + Mr. Blyth’s house, that cribbage should be played, and that Madonna should + take a share in it. This was done, on her part, principally in + affectionate remembrance of the old times when she lived under the care of + the clown’s wife, and when she had learnt cribbage from Mr. Peckover to + amuse her, while the frightful accident which had befallen her in the + circus was still a recent event. It was characteristic of the happy + peculiarity of her disposition that the days of suffering and affliction, + and the after-period of hard tasks in public, with which cards were + connected in her case, never seemed to recur to her remembrance painfully + when she saw them in later life. The pleasanter associations which + belonged to them, and which reminded her of homely kindness that had + soothed her in pain, and self-denying affection that had consoled her in + sorrow, were the associations instinctively dwelt on by her heart to the + exclusion of all others. + </p> + <p> + To Mrs. Blyth’s great astonishment, Zack, for full ten minutes, required + no keeping in order whatever while the rest were playing at cards. It was + the most marvelous of human phenomena, but there he certainly was, + standing quietly by the fireplace with the drawing in his hand, actually + thinking! Mrs. Blyth’s amazement at this unexampled change in his manner + so completely overcame her, that she fairly laid down her book to look at + him. He noticed the action, and approached the couch directly. + </p> + <p> + “That’s right,” he said; “don’t read any more. I want to have a serious + consultation with you.” + </p> + <p> + First a visit from Mrs. Peckover, then a serious consultation with Zack. + This is a night of wonders!—thought Mrs. Blyth. + </p> + <p> + “I’ve made it all right with Madonna,” Zack continued. “She don’t think a + bit the worse of me because I went on like a fool about the muffins at + tea-time. But that’s not what I want to talk about now: it’s a sort of + secret. In the first place—” + </p> + <p> + “Do you usually mention your secrets in a voice that everybody can hear?” + asked Mrs. Blyth, laughing. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, never mind about that,” he replied, not lowering his tone in the + least; “it’s only a secret from Madonna, and we can talk before <i>her,</i> + poor little soul, just as if she wasn’t in the room. Now this is the + thing: she’s made me a present, and I think I ought to show my gratitude + by making her another in return.” (He resumed his ordinary manner as he + warmed with the subject, and began to walk up and down the room in his + usual flighty way.) “Well, I have been thinking what the present ought to + be—something pretty, of course. I can’t do her a drawing worth a + farthing; and even if I could—” + </p> + <p> + “Suppose you come here and sit down, Zack,” interposed Mrs. Blyth. “While + you are wandering backwards and forwards in that way before the + card-table, you take Madonna’s attention off the game.” + </p> + <p> + No doubt he did. How could she see him walking about close by her, and + carrying her drawing with him wherever he went—as if he prized it + too much to be willing to put it down—without feeling gratified in + more than one of the innocent little vanities of her sex, without looking + after him much too often to be properly alive to the interests of her + game? + </p> + <p> + Zack took Mrs. Blyth’s advice, and sat down by her, with his back towards + the cribbage players. + </p> + <p> + “Well, the question is, What present am I to give her?” he went on. “I’ve + been twisting and turning it over in my mind, and the long and the short + of it is—” + </p> + <p> + (“Fifteen two, fifteen four, and a pair’s six,” said Valentine, reckoning + up the tricks he had in his hand at that moment.) + </p> + <p> + “Did you ever notice that she has a particularly pretty hand and arm?” + proceeded Zack, somewhat evasively. “I’m rather a judge of these things + myself; and of all the other girls I ever saw—” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind about other girls,” said Mrs. Blyth. “Tell me what you mean to + give Madonna.” + </p> + <p> + (“Two for his heels,” cried Mrs. Peckover, turning up a knave with great + glee.) + </p> + <p> + “I mean to give her a Bracelet,” said Zack. + </p> + <p> + Valentine looked up quickly from the card table. + </p> + <p> + (“Play, please sir,” said Mrs. Peckover; “little Mary’s waiting for you.”) + </p> + <p> + “Well, Zack,” rejoined Mrs. Blyth, “your idea of returning a present only + errs on the side of generosity. I should recommend something less costly. + Don’t you know that it’s one of Madonna’s oddities not to care about + jewelry? She might have bought herself a bracelet long ago, out of her own + savings, if trinkets had been things to tempt her.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait a bit, Mrs. Blyth,” said Zack, “you haven’t heard the best of my + notion yet: all the pith and marrow of it has got to come. The bracelet I + mean to give her is one that she will prize to the day of her death, or + she’s not the affectionate, warm-hearted girl I take her for. What do you + think of a bracelet that reminds her of you and Valentine, and jolly old + Peck there—and a little of me, too, which I hope won’t make her + think the worse of it. I’ve got a design against all your heads,” he + continued, imitating the cutting action of a pair of scissors with two of + his fingers, and raising his voice in high triumph. “It’s a splendid idea: + I mean to give Madonna a Hair Bracelet!” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Peckover and Mr. Blyth started back in their chairs, and stared at + each other as amazedly as if Zack’s last words had sprung from a charged + battery, and had struck them both at the same moment with a smart + electrical shock. + </p> + <p> + “Of all the things in the world, how came he ever to think of giving her + that!” ejaculated Mrs. Peckover under her breath; her memory reverting, + while she spoke, to the mournful day when strangers had searched the body + of Madonna’s mother, and had found the Hair Bracelet hidden away in a + corner of the dead woman’s pocket. + </p> + <p> + “Hush! let’s go on with the game,” said Valentine. He, too, was thinking + of the Hair Bracelet—thinking of it as it now lay locked up in his + bureau down stairs, remembering how he would fain have destroyed it years + ago, but that his conscience and sense of honor forbade him; pondering on + the fatal discoveries to which, by bare possibility, it might yet lead, if + ever it should fall into strangers’ hands. + </p> + <p> + “A Hair Bracelet,” continued Zack, quite unconscious of the effect he was + producing on two of the card-players behind him; “and <i>such</i> hair, + too, as I mean it to be made of!—Why, Madonna will think it more + precious than all the diamonds in the world. I defy anybody to have hit on + a better idea of the sort of present she’s sure to like; it’s elegant and + appropriate, and all that sort of thing—isn’t it?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes! very nice and pretty indeed,” replied Mrs. Blyth, rather + absently and confusedly. She knew as much of Madonna’s history as her + husband did; and was wondering what he would think of the present which + young Thorpe proposed giving to their adopted child. + </p> + <p> + “The thing I want most to know,” said Zack, “is what you think would be + the best pattern for the bracelet. There will be two kinds of hair in it, + which can be made into any shape, of course—your hair and Mrs. + Peckover’s.” + </p> + <p> + (“Not a morsel of my hair shall go towards the bracelet!” muttered Mrs. + Peckover, who was listening to what was said, while she went on playing.) + </p> + <p> + “The difficult hair to bring in, will be mine and Valentine’s,” pursued + Zack. “Mine’s long enough, to be sure; I ought to have got it cut a month + ago; but it’s so stiff and curly; and Blyth keeps his cropped so short—I + don’t see what they can do with it (do you?), unless they make rings, or + stars, or knobs, or something stumpy, in the way of a cross pattern of + it.” + </p> + <p> + “The people at the shop will know best,” said Mrs. Blyth, resolving to + proceed cautiously. + </p> + <p> + “One thing I’m determined on, though, beforehand,” cried Zack,—“the + clasp. The clasp shall be a serpent, with turquoise eyes, and a carbuncle + tail; and all our initials scored up somehow on his scales. Won’t that be + splendid? I should like to surprise Madonna with it this very evening.” + </p> + <p> + (“You shall never give it to her, if <i>I</i> can help it,” grumbled Mrs. + Peckover, still soliloquizing under her breath. “If anything in this world + can bring her ill-luck, it will be a Hair Bracelet!”) + </p> + <p> + These last words were spoken with perfect seriousness; for they were the + result of the strongest superstitious conviction. + </p> + <p> + From the time when the Hair Bracelet was found on Madonna’s mother, Mrs. + Peckover had persuaded herself—not unnaturally, in the absence of + any information to the contrary—that it had been in some way + connected with the ruin and shame which had driven its unhappy possessor + forth as an outcast, to die amongst strangers. To believe, in consequence, + that a Hair Bracelet had brought “ill-luck” to the mother, and to derive + from that belief the conviction that a Hair Bracelet would therefore also + bring “ill-luck” to the child, was a perfectly direct and inevitable + deductive process to Mrs. Peckover’s superstitious mind. The motives which + had formerly influenced her to forbid her “little Mary” ever to begin + anything important on a Friday, or ever to imperil her prosperity by + walking under a ladder, were precisely the motives by which she was now + actuated in determining to prevent the presentation of young Thorpe’s + ill-omened gift. + </p> + <p> + Although Valentine had only caught a word here and there, to guide him to + the subject of Mrs. Peckover’s mutterings to herself while the game was + going on, he guessed easily enough the general tenor of her thoughts, and + suspected that she would, ere long, begin to talk louder than was at all + desirable, if Zack proceeded much further with his present topic of + conversation. Accordingly, he took advantage of a pause in the game, and + of a relapse into another restless fit of walking about the room on young + Thorpe’s part, to approach his wife’s couch, as if he wanted to find + something lying near it, and to whisper to her, “Stop his talking any more + about that present to Madonna; I’ll tell you why another time.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Blyth very readily and easily complied with this injunction, by + telling Zack (with perfect truth) that she had been already a little too + much excited by the events of the evening; and that she must put off all + further listening or talking, on her part, till the next night, when she + promised to advise him about the bracelet to the best of her power. + </p> + <p> + He was, however, still too full of his subject to relinquish it easily + under no stronger influence than the influence of a polite hint. Having + lost one listener in Mrs. Blyth, he boldly tried the experiment of + inviting two others to replace her, by addressing himself to the players + at the card-table. + </p> + <p> + “I dare say you have heard what I have been talking about to Mrs. Blyth?” + he began. + </p> + <p> + “Lord, Master Zack!” said Mrs. Peckover, “do you think we haven’t had + something else to do here, besides listening to you? There, now, don’t + talk to us, please, till we are done, or you’ll throw us out altogether. + Don’t, sir, on any account, because we are playing for money—sixpence + a game.” + </p> + <p> + Repelled on both sides, Zack was obliged to give way. He walked off to try + and amuse himself at the book-case. Mrs. Peckover, with a very triumphant + air, nodded and winked several times at Valentine across the table; + desiring, by these signs, to show him that she could not only be silent + herself when the conversation was in danger of approaching a forbidden + subject, but could make other people hold their tongues too. + </p> + <p> + The room was now perfectly quiet, and the game at cribbage proceeded + smoothly enough, but not so pleasantly as usual on other occasions. + Valentine did not regain his customary good spirits; and Mrs. Peckover + relapsed into whispering discontentedly to herself—now and then + looking towards the bookcase, where young Thorpe was sitting sleepily, + with a volume of engravings on his knee. It was, more or less, a relief to + everybody when the supper-tray came up, and the cards were put away for + the night. + </p> + <p> + Zack, becoming quite lively again at the prospect of a little eating and + drinking, tried to return to the dangerous subject of the Hair Bracelet; + addressing himself, on this occasion, directly to Valentine. He was + interrupted, however, before he had spoken three words. Mr. Blyth suddenly + remembered that he had an important communication of his own to make to + young Thorpe. + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me, Zack,” he said, “I have some news to tell you, which Mrs. + Peckover’s arrival drove out of my head; and which I must mention at once, + while I have the opportunity. Both my pictures are done—what do you + think of that?—done, and in their frames. I settled the titles + yesterday. The classical landscape is to be called ‘The Golden Age,’ which + is a pretty poetical sort of name; and the figure-subject is to be + ‘Columbus in Sight of the New World;’ which is, I think, simple, + affecting, and grand. Wait a minute! the best of it has yet to come. I am + going to exhibit both the pictures in the studio to my friends, and my + friends’ friends, as early as Saturday next.” + </p> + <p> + “You don’t mean it!” exclaimed Zack. “Why, it’s only January now; and you + always used to have your private view of your own pictures, in April, just + before they were sent into the Academy Exhibition.” + </p> + <p> + “Quite right,” interposed Valentine, “but I am going to make a change this + year. The fact is, I have got a job to do in the provinces, which will + prevent me from having my picture-show at the usual time. So I mean to + have it now. The cards of invitation are coming home from the printer’s + tomorrow morning. I shall reserve a packet, of course, for you and your + friends, when we see you to-morrow night.” + </p> + <p> + Just as Mr. Blyth spoke those words, the clock on the mantel-piece struck + the half hour after ten. Having his own private reasons for continuing to + preserve the appearance of perfect obedience to his father’s domestic + regulations, Zack rose at once to say good night, in order to insure being + home before the house-door was bolted at eleven o’clock. This time he did + not forget Madonna’s drawing; but, on the contrary, showed such unusual + carefulness in tying his pocket-handkerchief over the frame to preserve it + from injury as he carried it through the streets, that she could not help—in + the fearless innocence of her heart—unreservedly betraying to him, + both by look and manner, how warmly she appreciated his anxiety for the + safe preservation of her gift. Never had the bright, kind young face been + lovelier in its artless happiness than it appeared at the moment when she + was shaking hands with Zack. + </p> + <p> + Just as Valentine was about to follow his guest out of the room, Mrs. + Blyth called him back, reminding him that he had a cold, and begging him + not to expose himself to the wintry night air by going down to the door. + </p> + <p> + “But the servants must be going to bed by this time; and somebody ought to + fasten the bolts,” remonstrated Mr. Blyth. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll go, sir,” said Mrs. Peckover, rising with extraordinary alacrity. + “I’ll see Master Zack out, and do up the door. Bless your heart! it’s no + trouble to me. I’m always moving about at home from morning to night, to + prevent myself getting fatter. Don’t say no, Mr. Blyth, unless you are + afraid of trusting an old gossip like me alone with your visitors.” + </p> + <p> + The last words were intended as a sarcasm, and were whispered into + Valentine’s ear. He understood the allusion to their private conversation + together easily enough; and felt that unless he let her have her own way + without further contest, he must risk offending an old friend by implying + a mistrust of her, which would be simply ridiculous, under the + circumstances in which they were placed. So, when his wife nodded to him + to take advantage of the offer just made, he accepted it forthwith. + </p> + <p> + “Now, I’ll stop his giving Mary a Hair Bracelet!” thought Mrs. Peckover, + as she bustled out after young Thorpe, and closed the room door behind + her. + </p> + <p> + “Wait a bit, young gentleman,” she said, arresting his further progress on + the first landing. “Just leave off talking a minute, and let me speak. + I’ve got something to say to you. Do you really mean to give Mary that + Hair Bracelet?” + </p> + <p> + “Oho! then you did hear something at the card-table about it, after all?” + said Zack. “Mean? Of course I mean—” + </p> + <p> + “And you want to put some of my hair in it?” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure I do! Madonna wouldn’t like it without.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you had better make up your mind at once to give her some other + present; for not one morsel of my hair shall you have. There now! what do + you think of that?” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t believe it, my old darling.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s true enough, I can tell you. Not a hair of my head shall you have.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind why. I’ve got my own reasons.” + </p> + <p> + “Very well: if you come to that, I’ve got my reasons for giving the + bracelet; and I mean to give it. If you won’t let any of your hair be + plaited up along with the rest, it’s Madonna you will disappoint—not + me.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Peckover saw that she must change her tactics, or be defeated. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you be so dreadful obstinate, Master Zack, and I’ll tell you the + reason,” she said in an altered tone, leading the way lower down into the + passage. “I don’t want you to give her a Hair Bracelet, because I believe + it will bring ill-luck to her—there!” + </p> + <p> + Zack burst out laughing. “Do you call that a reason? Who ever heard of a + Hair Bracelet being an unlucky gift?” + </p> + <p> + At this moment, the door of Mrs. Blyth’s room opened. + </p> + <p> + “Anything wrong with the lock?” asked Valentine from above. He was rather + surprised at the time that elapsed without his hearing the house-door + shut. + </p> + <p> + “All quite right, sir,” said Mrs. Peckover; adding in a whisper to Zack:—“Hush! + don’t say a word!” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t let him keep you in the cold with his nonsense,” said Valentine. + </p> + <p> + “My nonsense!—” began Zack, indignantly. + </p> + <p> + “He’s going, sir,” interrupted Mrs. Peckover. “I shall be upstairs in a + moment.” + </p> + <p> + “Come in, dear, pray! You’re letting all the cold air into the room,” + exclaimed the voice of Mrs. Blyth. + </p> + <p> + The door of the room closed again. + </p> + <p> + “What <i>are</i> you driving at?” asked Zack, in extreme bewilderment. + </p> + <p> + “I only want you to give her some other present,” said Mrs. Peckover, in + her most persuasive tones. “You may think it all a whim of mine, if you + like—I dare say I’m an old fool; but I don’t want you to give her a + Hair Bracelet.” + </p> + <p> + “A whim of yours!!!” repeated Zack, with a look which made Mrs. Peckover’s + cheeks redden with rising indignation. “What! a woman at your time of life + subject to whims! My darling Peckover, it won’t do! My mind’s made up to + give her the Hair Bracelet. Nothing in the world can stop me—except, + of course, Madonna’s having a Hair Bracelet already, which I know she + hasn’t.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! you know that, do you, you mischievous Imp? Then, for once in a way, + you just know wrong!” exclaimed Mrs. Peckover, losing her temper + altogether. + </p> + <p> + “You don’t mean to say so? How very remarkable, to think of her having a + Hair Bracelet already, and of my not knowing it!—Mrs. Peckover,” + continued Zack, mimicking the tone and manner of his old clerical enemy, + the Reverend Aaron Yollop, “what I am now about to say grieves me deeply; + but I have a solemn duty to discharge, and in the conscientious + performance of that duty, I now unhesitatingly express my conviction that + the remark you have just made is—a flam.” + </p> + <p> + “It isn’t—Monkey!” returned Mrs. Peckover, her anger fairly boiling + over, as she nodded her head vehemently in Zack’s face. + </p> + <p> + Just then, Valentine’s step became audible in the room above; first moving + towards the door, then suddenly retreating from it, as if he had been + called back. + </p> + <p> + “I hav’n’t let out what I oughtn’t, have I?” thought Mrs. Peckover; + calming down directly, when she heard the movement upstairs. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, you stick to it, do you?” continued Zack. “It’s rather odd, old lady, + that Mrs. Blyth should have said nothing about this newly-discovered Hair + Bracelet of yours while I was talking to her. But she doesn’t know, of + course: and Valentine doesn’t know either, I suppose? By Jove! he’s not + gone to bed yet: I’ll run back, and ask him if Madonna really <i>has</i> + got a Hair Bracelet!” + </p> + <p> + “For God’s sake don’t!—don’t say a word about it, or you’ll get me + into dreadful trouble!” exclaimed Mrs. Peckover, turning pale as she + thought of possible consequences, and catching young Thorpe by the arm + when he tried to pass her in the passage. + </p> + <p> + The step up stairs crossed the room again. + </p> + <p> + “Well, upon my life,” cried Zack, “of all the extraordinary old women + </p> + <p> + “Hush! he’s going to open the door this time; he is indeed!” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind if he does; I won’t say anything,” whispered young Thorpe, his + natural good nature prompting him to relieve Mrs. Peckover’s distress, the + moment he became convinced that it was genuine. + </p> + <p> + “That’s a good chap! that’s a dear good chap!” exclaimed Mrs. Peckover, + squeezing Zack’s hand in a fervor of unbounded gratitude. + </p> + <p> + The door of Mrs. Blyth’s room opened for the second time. + </p> + <p> + “He’s gone, sir; he’s gone at last!” cried Mrs. Peckover, shutting the + house door on the parting guest with inhospitable rapidity, and locking it + with elaborate care and extraordinary noise. + </p> + <p> + “I must manage to make it all safe with Master Zack tomorrow night; though + I don’t believe I have said a single word I oughtn’t to say,” thought she, + slowly ascending the stairs. “But Mr. Blyth makes such fusses, and works + himself into such fidgets about the poor thing being traced and taken away + from him (which is all stuff and nonsense), that he would go half + distracted if he knew what I said just now to Master Zack. Not that it’s + so much what I said to <i>him,</i> as what he made out somehow and said to + <i>me.</i> But they’re so sharp, these young London chaps—they are + so awful sharp!” + </p> + <p> + Here she stopped on the landing to recover her breath; then whispered to + herself, as she went on and approached Mr. Blyth’s door: + </p> + <p> + “But one thing I’m determined on; little Mary shan’t have that Hair + Bracelet!” + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + Even as Mrs. Peckover walked thinking all the way up-stairs, so did Zack + walk wondering all the way home. + </p> + <p> + What the deuce could these extraordinary remonstrances about his present + to Madonna possibly mean? Was it not at least clear from Mrs. Peckover’s + terror when he talked of asking Blyth whether Madonna really had a Hair + Bracelet, that she had told the truth after all? And was it not even + plainer still that she had let out a secret in telling that truth, which + Blyth must have ordered her to keep? Why keep it? Was this mysterious Hair + Bracelet mixed up somehow with the grand secret about Madonna’s past + history, which Valentine had always kept from him and from everybody? Very + likely it was—but why cudgel his brains about what didn’t concern + him? Was it not—considering the fact, previously forgotten, that he + had but fifteen shillings and threepence of disposable money in the world—rather + lucky than otherwise that Mrs. Peckover had taken it into her head to stop + him from buying what he hadn’t the means of paying for? What other present + could he buy for Madonna that was pretty, and cheap enough to suit the + present state of his pocket? Would she like a thimble? or an almanack? or + a pair of cuffs? or a pot of bear’s grease? + </p> + <p> + Here Zack suddenly paused in his mental interrogatories; for he had + arrived within sight of his home in Baregrove Square. + </p> + <p> + A change passed over his handsome face: he frowned, and his color deepened + as he looked up at the light in his father’s window. + </p> + <p> + “I’ll slip out again to-night, and see life,” he muttered doggedly to + himself, approaching the door. “The more I’m bullied at home, the oftener + I’ll go out on the sly.” + </p> + <p> + This rebellious speech was occasioned by the recollection of a domestic + scene, which had contributed, early that evening, to swell the list of the + Tribulations of Zack. Mr. Thorpe had moral objections to Mr. Blyth’s + profession, and moral doubts on the subject of Mr. Blyth himself—these + last being strengthened by that gentleman’s own refusal to explain away + the mystery which enveloped the birth and parentage of his adopted child. + As a necessary consequence, Mr. Thorpe considered the painter to be no fit + companion for a devout young man; and expressed, severely enough, his + unmeasured surprise at finding that his son had accepted an invitation + from a person of doubtful character. Zack’s rejoinder to his father’s + reproof was decisive, if it was nothing else. He denied everything alleged + or suggested against his friend’s reputation—lost his temper on + being sharply rebuked for the “indecent vehemence” of his language—and + left the paternal tea-table in defiance, to go and cultivate the Fine Arts + in the doubtful company of Mr. Valentine Blyth. + </p> + <p> + “Just in time, sir,” said the page, grinning at his young master as he + opened the door. “It’s on the stroke of eleven.” + </p> + <p> + Zack muttered something savage in reply, which it is not perhaps advisable + to report. The servant secured the lock and bolts, while he put his hat on + the hall table, and lit his bedroom candle. + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + Rather more than an hour after this time—or, in other words, a + little past midnight—the door opened again softly, and Zack appeared + on the step, equipped for his nocturnal expedition. + </p> + <p> + He hesitated, as he put the key into the lock from outside, before he + closed the door behind him. He had never done this on former occasions; he + could not tell why he did it now. We are mysteries even to ourselves; and + there are times when the Voices of the future that are in us, yet not + ours, speak, and make the earthly part of us conscious of their presence. + Oftenest our mortal sense feels that they are breaking their dread silence + at those supreme moments of existence, when on the choice between two + apparently trifling alternatives hangs suspended the whole future of a + life. And thus it was now with the young man who stood on the threshold of + his home, doubtful whether he should pursue or abandon the purpose which + was then uppermost in his mind. On his choice between the two alternatives + of going on, or going back—which the closing of a door would decide—depended + the future of his life, and of other lives that were mingled with it. + </p> + <p> + He waited a minute undecided, for the warning Voices within him were + stronger than his own will: he waited, looking up thoughtfully at the + starry loveliness of the winter’s night—then closed the door behind + him as softly as usual—hesitated again at the last step that led on + to the pavement—and then fairly set forth from home, walking at a + rapid pace through the streets. + </p> + <p> + He was not in his usual good spirits. He felt no inclination to sing as + was his wont, while passing through the fresh, frosty air: and he wondered + why it was so. + </p> + <p> + The Voices were still speaking faintly and more faintly within him. But we + must die before we can become immortal as they are; and their language to + us in this life is often as an unknown tongue. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0016" id="link2H_4_0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + BOOK II. THE SEEKING. + </h2> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER I. THE MAN WITH THE BLACK SKULL-CAP. + </h2> + <p> + The Roman poet who, writing of vice, ascribed its influence entirely to + the allurement of the fair disguises that it wore, and asserted that it + only needed to be seen with the mask off to excite the hatred of all + mankind, uttered a very plausible moral sentiment, which wants nothing to + recommend it to the admiration of posterity but a seasoning of practical + truth. Even in the most luxurious days of old Rome, it may safely be + questioned whether vice could ever afford to disguise itself to win + recruits, except from the wealthier classes of the population. But in + these modern times it may be decidedly asserted as a fact, that vice, in + accomplishing the vast majority of its seductions, uses no disguise at + all; appears impudently in its naked deformity; and, instead of horrifying + all beholders, in accordance with the prediction of the classical + satirist, absolutely attracts a much more numerous congregation of + worshippers than has ever yet been brought together by the divinest + beauties that virtue can display for the allurement of mankind. + </p> + <p> + That famous place of public amusement known, a few years since, to the + late-roaming youth of London by the name of the Snuggery, affords, among + hosts of other instances which might be cited, a notable example to refute + the assertion of the ancient poet. The place was principally devoted to + the exhibition of musical talent, and opened at a period of the night when + the performances at the theaters were over. The orchestral arrangements + were comprised in one bad piano, to which were occasionally added, by way + of increasing the attractions, performances on the banjo and guitar. All + the singers were called “ladies and gentlemen;” and the one long room in + which the performances took place was simply furnished with a double row + of benches, bearing troughs at their backs for the reception of glasses of + liquor. + </p> + <p> + Innocence itself must have seen at a glance that the Snuggery was an + utterly vicious place. Vice never so much as thought of wearing any + disguise here. No glimmer of wit played over the foul substance of the + songs that were sung, and hid it in dazzle from too close observation. No + relic of youth and freshness, no artfully-assumed innocence and vivacity, + concealed the squalid deterioration of the worn-out human counterfeits + which stood up to sing, and were coarsely painted and padded to look like + fine women. Their fellow performers among the men were such sodden-faced + blackguards as no shop-boy who applauded them at night would dare to walk + out with in the morning. The place itself had as little of the allurement + of elegance and beauty about it as the people. Here was no bright gilding + on the ceiling—no charm of ornament, no comfort of construction + even, in the furniture. Here were no viciously-attractive pictures on the + walls—no enervating sweet odors in the atmosphere—no + contrivances of ventilation to cleanse away the stench of bad + tobacco-smoke and brandy-flavored human breath with which the room reeked + all night long. Here, in short, was vice wholly undisguised; recklessly + showing itself to every eye, without the varnish of beauty, without the + tinsel of wit, without even so much as the flavor of cleanliness to + recommend it. Were all beholders instinctively overcome by horror at the + sight? Far from it. The Snuggery was crammed to its last benches every + night; and the proprietor filled his pockets from the purses of applauding + audiences. For, let classical moralists say what they may, vice gathers + followers as easily, in modern times, with the mask off, as ever it + gathered them in ancient times with the mask on. + </p> + <p> + It was two o’clock in the morning; and the entertainments in the Snuggery + were fast rising to the climax of joviality. A favorite comic song had + just been sung by a bloated old man with a bald head and a hairy chin. + There was a brief lull of repose, before the amusements resumed their + noisy progress. Orders for drink were flying abroad in all directions. + Friends were talking at the tops of their voices, and strangers were + staring at each other—except at the lower end of the room, where the + whole attention of the company was concentrated strangely upon one man. + </p> + <p> + The person who thus attracted to himself the wandering curiosity of all + his neighbors had come in late, had taken the first vacant place he could + find near the door, and had sat there listening and looking about him very + quietly. He drank and smoked like the rest of the company; but never + applauded, never laughed, never exhibited the slightest symptom of + astonishment, or pleasure, or impatience, or disgust—though it was + evident, from his manner of entering and giving his orders to the waiters, + that he visited the Snuggery that night for the first time. + </p> + <p> + He was not in mourning, for there was no band round his hat; but he was + dressed nevertheless in a black frock-coat, waistcoat, and trousers, and + wore black kid gloves. He seemed to be very little at his ease in this + costume, moving his limbs, whenever he changed his position, as cautiously + and constrainedly as if he had been clothed in gossamer instead of stout + black broadcloth, shining with its first new gloss on it. His face was + tanned to a perfectly Moorish brown, was scarred in two places by the + marks of old wounds, and was overgrown by coarse, iron-grey whiskers, + which met under his chin. His eyes were light, and rather large, and + seemed to be always quietly but vigilantly on the watch. Indeed the whole + expression of his face, coarse and heavy as it was in form, was remarkable + for its acuteness, for its cool, collected penetration, for its habitually + observant, passively-watchful look. Any one guessing at his calling from + his manner and appearance would have set him down immediately as the + captain of a merchantman, and would have been willing to lay any wager + that he had been several times round the world. + </p> + <p> + But it was not his face, or his dress, or his manner, that drew on him the + attention of all his neighbors; it was his head. Under his hat, (which was + bran new, like everything else he wore), there appeared, fitting tight + round his temples and behind his ears, a black velvet skull-cap. Not a + vestige of hair peeped from under it. All round his head, as far as could + be seen beneath his hat, which he wore far back over his coat collar, + there was nothing but bare flesh, encircled by a rim of black velvet. + </p> + <p> + From a great proposal for reform, to a small eccentricity in costume, the + English are the most intolerant people in the world, in their reception of + anything which presents itself to them under the form of a perfect + novelty. Let any man display a new project before the Parliament of + England, or a new pair of light-green trousers before the inhabitants of + London, let the project proclaim itself as useful to all listening ears, + and the trousers eloquently assert themselves as beautiful to all + beholding eyes, the nation will shrink suspiciously, nevertheless, both + from the one and the other; will order the first to “lie on the table,” + and will hoot, laugh, and stare at the second; will, in short, resent + either novelty as an unwarrantable intrusion, for no other discernible + reason than that people in general are not used to it. + </p> + <p> + Quietly as the strange man in black had taken his seat in the Snuggery, he + and his skull-cap attracted general attention; and our national weakness + displayed itself immediately. + </p> + <p> + Nobody paused to reflect that he probably wore his black velvet head-dress + from necessity; nobody gave him credit for having objections to a wig, + which might be perfectly sensible and well founded; and nobody, even in + this free country, was liberal enough to consider that he had really as + much right to put on a skull-cap under his hat if he chose, as any other + man present had to put on a shirt under his waistcoat. The audience saw + nothing but the novelty in the way of a head-dress which the stranger + wore, and they resented it unanimously, because it was a novelty. First, + they expressed this resentment by staring indignantly at him, then by + laughing at him, then by making sarcastic remarks on him. He bore their + ridicule with the most perfect and provoking coolness. He did not + expostulate, or retort, or look angry, or grow red in the face, or fidget + in his seat, or get up to go away. He just sat smoking and drinking as + quietly as ever, not taking the slightest notice of any of the dozens of + people who were all taking notice of him. + </p> + <p> + His unassailable composure only served to encourage his neighbors to take + further liberties with him. One rickety little man, with a spirituous nose + and watery eyes, urged on by some women near him, advanced to the + stranger’s bench, and, expressing his admiration of a skull-cap as a + becoming ornamental addition to a hat, announced, with a bow of mock + politeness, his anxiety to feel the quality of the velvet. He stretched + out his hand as he spoke, not a word of warning or expostulation being + uttered by the victim of the intended insult; but the moment his fingers + touched the skull-cap, the strange man, still without speaking, without + even removing his cigar from his mouth, very deliberately threw all that + remained of the glass of hot brandy and water before him in the rickety + gentleman’s face. + </p> + <p> + With a scream of pain as the hot liquor flew into his eyes, the miserable + little man struck out helplessly with both his fists, and fell down + between the benches. A friend who was with him, advanced to avenge his + injuries, and was thrown sprawling on the floor. Yells of “Turn him out!” + and “Police!” followed; people at the other end of the room jumped up + excitably on their seats; the women screamed, the men shouted and swore, + glasses were broken, sticks were waved, benches were cracked, and, in one + instant, the stranger was assailed by every one of his neighbors who could + get near him, on pretense of turning him out. + </p> + <p> + Just as it seemed a matter of certainty that he must yield to numbers, in + spite of his gallant resistance, and be hurled out of the door down the + flight of stairs that led to it, a tall young gentleman, with a quantity + of light curly hair on his hatless head, leapt up on one of the benches at + the opposite side of the gangway running down the middle of the room, and + apostrophized the company around him with vehement fistic gesticulation. + Alas for the tranquillity of parents with pleasure-loving sons!—alas + for Mr. Valentine Blyth’s idea of teaching his pupil to be steady, by + teaching him to draw!—this furious young gentleman was no other than + Mr. Zachary Thorpe, Junior, of Baregrove Square. + </p> + <p> + “Damn you all, you cowardly counter-jumping scoundrels!” roared Zack, his + eyes aflame with valor, generosity, and gin-and-water. “What do you mean + by setting on one man in that way? Hit out, sir—hit out right and + left! I saw you insulted; and I’m coming to help you!” + </p> + <p> + With these words Zack tucked up his cuffs, and jumped into the crowd about + him. His height, strength, and science as a boxer carried him triumphantly + to the opposite bench. Two or three blows on the ribs, and one on the nose + which drew blood plentifully, only served to stimulate his ardor and + increase the pugilistic ferocity of his expression. In a minute he was by + the side of the man with the skull-cap; and the two were fighting back to + back, amid roars of applause from the audience at the upper end of the + room, who were only spectators of the disturbance. + </p> + <p> + In the meantime the police had been summoned. But the waiters down-stairs, + in their anxiety to see a struggle between two men on one side, and + somewhere about two dozen on the other, had neglected to close the street + door. The consequence was, that all the cabmen on the stand outside, and + all the vagabond night-idlers in the vagabond neighborhood of the + Snuggery, poured into the narrow passage, and got up an impromptu riot of + their own with the waiters, who tried, too late, to turn them out. Just as + the police were forcing their way through the throng below, Zack and the + stranger had fought their way out of the throng above, and had got clear + of the room. + </p> + <p> + On the right of the landing, as they approached it, was a door, through + which the man with the skull-cap now darted, dragging Zack after him. His + temper was just as cool, his quick eye just as vigilant as ever. The key + of the door was inside. He locked it, amid a roar of applauding laughter + from the people on the staircase, mixed with cries of “Police!” and “Stop + ‘em in the Court!” from the waiters. The two then descended a steep flight + of stairs at headlong speed, and found themselves in a kitchen, + confronting an astonished man cook and two female servants. Zack knocked + the man down before he could use the rolling-pin which he had snatched up + on their appearance; while the stranger coolly took a hat that stood on + the dresser, and jammed it tight with one smack of his large hand on young + Thorpe’s bare head. The next moment they were out in a court into which + the kitchen opened, and were running at the top of their speed. + </p> + <p> + The police, on their side, lost no time; but they had to get out of the + crowd in the passage and go round the front of the house, before they + could arrive at the turning which led into the court from the street. This + gave the fugitives a start; and the neighborhood of alleys, lanes, and + by-streets in which their flight immediately involved them, was the + neighborhood of all others to favor their escape. While the springing of + rattles and the cries of “Stop thief!” were rending the frosty night air + in one direction, Zack and the stranger were walking away quietly, arm in + arm, in the other. + </p> + <p> + The man with the skull-cap had taken the lead hitherto, and he took it + still; though, from the manner in which he stared about him at corners of + streets, and involved himself and his companion every now and then in + blind alleys, it was clear enough that he was quite unfamiliar with the + part of the town through which they were now walking. Zack, having treated + himself that night to his fatal third glass of grog, and having finished + half of it before the fight began, was by this time in no condition to + care about following any particular path in the great labyrinth of London. + He walked on, talking thickly and incessantly to the stranger, who never + once answered him. It was of no use to applaud his bravery; to criticize + his style of fighting, which was anything but scientific; to express + astonishment at his skill in knocking his hat on again, all through the + struggle, every time it was knocked off; and to declare admiration of his + quickness in taking the cook’s hat to cover his companion’s bare head, + which might have exposed him to suspicion and capture as he passed through + the streets. It was of no use to speak on these subjects, or on any + others. The imperturbable hero who had not uttered a word all through the + fight, was as imperturbable as ever, and would not utter a word after it. + </p> + <p> + They strayed at last into Fleet Street, and walked to the foot of Ludgate + Hill. Here the stranger stopped—glanced towards the open space on + the right, where the river ran—gave a rough gasp of relief and + satisfaction—and made directly for Blackfriars bridge. He led Zack, + who was still thick in his utterance, and unsteady on his legs, to the + parapet wall; let go of his arm there, and looking steadily in his face by + the light of the gas-lamp, addressed him, for the first time, in a + remarkably grave, deliberate voice, and in these words: + </p> + <p> + “Now, then, young ‘un, suppose you pull a breath, and wipe that bloody + nose of yours.” + </p> + <p> + Zack, instead of resenting this unceremonious manner of speaking to him—which + he might have done, had he been sober—burst into a frantic fit of + laughter. The remarkable gravity and composure of the stranger’s tone and + manner, contrasted with the oddity of the proposition by which he opened + the conversation, would have been irresistibly ludicrous even to a man + whose faculties were not in an intoxicated condition. + </p> + <p> + While Zack was laughing till the tears rolled down his cheeks, his odd + companion was leaning over the parapet of the bridge, and pulling off his + black kid gloves, which had suffered considerably during the progress of + the fight. Having rolled them up into a ball, he jerked them + contemptuously into the river. + </p> + <p> + “There goes the first pair of gloves as ever I had on, and the last as + ever I mean to wear,” he said, spreading out his brawny hands to the sharp + night breeze. + </p> + <p> + Young Thorpe heaved a few last expiring gasps of laughter; then became + quiet and serious from sheer exhaustion. + </p> + <p> + “Go it again,” said the man of the skull-cap, staring at him as gravely as + ever, “I like to hear you.” + </p> + <p> + “I can’t go it again,” answered Zack faintly; “I’m out of breath. I say, + old boy, you’re quite a character! Who are you?” + </p> + <p> + “I ain’t nobody in particular; and I don’t know as I’ve got a single + friend to care about who I am, in all England,” replied the other. “Give + us your hand, young ‘un! In the foreign parts where I come from, when one + man stands by another, as you’ve stood by me to-night, them two are + brothers together afterwards. You needn’t be a brother to me, if you don’t + like. I mean to be a brother to you, whether you like it or not. My name’s + Mat. What’s your’s?” + </p> + <p> + “Zack,” returned young Thorpe, clapping his new acquaintance on the back + with brotherly familiarity already. “You’re a glorious fellow; and I like + your way of talking. Where do you come from, Mat? And what do you wear + that queer cap under your hat for?” + </p> + <p> + “I come from America last,” replied Mat, as grave and deliberate as ever. + “And I wear this cap because I haven’t got no scalp on my head.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean?” cried Zack, startled into temporary sobriety, and + taking his hand off his new friend’s shoulder as quickly as if he had put + it on red-hot iron. + </p> + <p> + “I always mean what I say,” continued Mat; “I’ve got that much good about + me, if I haven’t got no more. Me and my scalp parted company years ago. + I’m here, on a bridge in London, talking to a young chap of the name of + Zack. My scalp’s on the top of a high pole in some Indian village, + anywhere you like about the Amazon country. If there’s any puffs of wind + going there, like there is here, it’s rattling just now, like a bit of dry + parchment; and all my hair’s a flip-flapping about like a horse’s tail, + when the flies is in season. I don’t know nothing more about my scalp or + my hair than that. If you don’t believe me, just lay hold of my hat, and + I’ll show you—” + </p> + <p> + “No, thank you!” exclaimed Zack, recoiling from the offered hat. “I don’t + want to see it. But how the deuce do you manage without a scalp?—I + never heard of such a thing before in my life—how is it you’re not + dead? eh?” + </p> + <p> + “It takes a deal more to kill a tough man than you London chaps think,” + said Mat. “I was found before my head got cool, and plastered over with + leaves and ointment. They’d left a bit of scalp at the back, being in + rather too great a hurry to do their work as handily as usual; and a new + skin growed over, after a little—a babyish sort of skin, that wasn’t + half thick enough, and wouldn’t bear no new crop of hair. So I had to eke + out and keep my head comfortable with an old yellow handkercher; which I + always wore till I got to San Francisco, on my way back here. I met with a + priest at San Francisco, who told me that I should look a little less like + a savage, if I wore a skull-cap like his, instead of a handkercher, when I + got back into what he called the civilized world. So I took his advice, + and bought this cap. I suppose it looks better than my old yellow + handkercher; but it ain’t half as comfortable.” + </p> + <p> + “But how did you lose your scalp?” asked Zack—“tell us all about it. + Upon my life, you’re the most interesting fellow I ever met with! And, I + say, let’s walk about, while we talk. I feel steadier on my legs now; and + it’s so infernally cold standing here.” + </p> + <p> + “Which way can we soonest get out of this muck of houses and streets?” + asked Mat, surveying the London view around him with an expression of grim + disgust. “There ain’t no room, even on this bridge, for the wind to blow + fairly over a man. I’d just as soon be smothered up in a bed, as smothered + up in smoke and stink here.” + </p> + <p> + “What a delightful fellow you are! so entirely out of the common way! + Steady, my dear friend. The grog’s not quite out of my head yet; and I + find I’ve got the hiccups. Here’s my way home, and your way into the fresh + air, if you really want it. Come along; and tell me how you lost your + scalp.” + </p> + <p> + “There ain’t nothing particular to tell. What’s your name again?” + </p> + <p> + “Zack.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, Zack, I was out on the tramp, dodging about after any game that + turned up, on the banks of the Amazon—” + </p> + <p> + “Amazon? what’s that? a woman? or a place?” + </p> + <p> + “Did you ever hear of South America?” + </p> + <p> + “I can’t positively swear to it; but, to the best of my belief, I think I + have.” + </p> + <p> + “Well; the Amazon’s a longish bit of a river in those parts. I was out, as + I told you, on the tramp.” + </p> + <p> + “So I should think! you look like the sort of man who has tramped + everywhere, and done everything.” + </p> + <p> + “You’re about right there, for a wonder! I’ve druv cattle in Mexico; I’ve + been out with a gang that went to find an overland road to the North Pole; + I’ve worked through a season or two in catching wild horses on the Pampas; + and another season or two in digging gold in California. I went away from + England, a tidy lad aboard ship; and here I am back again now, an old + vagabond as hasn’t a friend to own him. If you want to know exactly who I + am, and what I’ve been up to all my life, that’s about as much as I can + tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “You don’t say so! Wait a minute, though; there’s one thing—you’re + not troubled with the hiccups, are you, after eating supper? (I’ve been a + martyr to hiccups ever since I was a child.) But, I say, there’s one thing + you haven’t told me yet; you haven’t told me what your other name is + besides Mat. Mine’s Thorpe.” + </p> + <p> + “I haven’t heard the sound of the other name you’re asking after for a + matter of better than twenty year: and I don’t care if I never hear it + again.” His voice sank huskily, and he turned his head a little away from + Zack, as he said those words. “They nicknamed me ‘Marksman,’ when I used + to go out with the exploring gangs, because I was the best shot of all of + them. You call me Marksman, too, if you don’t like Mat. Mister Mathew + Marksman, if you please: everybody seems to be a ‘Mister’ here. You’re + one, of course. I don’t mean to call you ‘Mister’ for all that. I shall + stick to Zack; it’s short, and there’s no bother about it.” + </p> + <p> + “All right, old fellow! and I’ll stick to Mat, which is shorter still by a + whole letter. But, I say, you haven’t told the story yet about how you + lost your scalp.” + </p> + <p> + “There’s no story in it, Do you know what it is to have a man dodging + after you through these odds and ends of streets here? I dare say you do. + Well, I had three skulking thieves of Indians dodging after me, over + better than four hundred miles of lonesome country, where I might have + bawled for help for a whole week on end, and never made anybody hear me. + They wanted my scalp, and they wanted my rifle, and they got both at last, + at the end of their man-hunt, because I couldn’t get any sleep.” + </p> + <p> + “Not get any sleep. Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “Because they was three, and I was only one, to be sure! One of them kep’ + watch while the other two slept. I hadn’t nobody to keep watch for me; and + my life depended on my eyes being open night and day. I took a dog’s + snooze once, and was woke out of it by an arrow in my face. I kep’ on a + long time after that, before I give out; but at last I got the horrors, + and thought the prairie was all a-fire, and run from it. I don’t know how + long I run on in that mad state; I only know that the horrors turned out + to be the saving of my life. I missed my own trail, and struck into + another, which was a trail of friendly Indians—people I’d traded + with, you know. And I came up with ‘em somehow, near enough for the + stragglers of their hunting party to hear me skreek when my scalp was + took. Now you know as much about it as I do; I can’t tell you no more, + except that I woke up like, in an Indian wigwam, with a crop of cool + leaves on my head, instead of a crop of hair.” + </p> + <p> + “A crop of leaves! What a jolly old Jack-in-the-Green you must have looked + like! Which of those scars on your face is the arrow-wound, eh? Oh, that’s + it—is it? I say, old boy, you’ve got a black eye! Did any of those + fellows in the Snuggery hit hard enough to hurt you?” + </p> + <p> + “Hurt me? Chaps like them <i>hurt Me!!”</i> Tickled by the extravagance of + the idea which Zack’s question suggested to him, Mat shook his sturdy + shoulders, and indulged himself in a gruff chuckle, which seemed to claim + some sort of barbarous relationship with a laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Ah! of course they haven’t hurt you;—I didn’t think they had,” said + Zack, whose pugilistic sympathies were deeply touched by the contempt with + which his new friend treated the bumps and bruises received in the fight. + “Go on, Mat, I like adventures of your sort. What did you do after your + head healed up?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I got tired of dodging about the Amazon, and went south, and learnt + to throw a lasso, and took a turn at the wild horses. Galloping did my + head good.” + </p> + <p> + “It’s just what would do my head good too. Yours is the sort of life, Mat, + for me! How did you first come to lead it? Did you run away from home?” + </p> + <p> + “No. I served aboard ship, where I was put out, being too idle a vagabond + to be kep’ at home. I always wanted to run wild somewheres for a change; + but I didn’t really go to do it, till I picked up a letter which was + waiting for me in port, at the Brazils. There was news in that letter + which sickened me of going home again; so I deserted, and went off on the + tramp. And I’ve been mostly on the tramp ever since, till I got here last + Sunday.” + </p> + <p> + “What! have you only been in England since Sunday?” + </p> + <p> + “That’s all. I made a good time of it in California, where I’ve been last, + digging gold. My mate, as was with me, got a talking about the old + country, and wrought on me so that I went back with him to see it again. + So, instead of gambling away all my money over there” (Mat carelessly + jerked his hand in a westerly direction), “I’ve come to spend it over + here; and I’m going down into the country to-morrow, to see if anybody + lives to own me at the old place.” + </p> + <p> + “And suppose nobody does? What then?” + </p> + <p> + “Then I shall go back again. After twenty years among the savages, or + little better, I’m not fit for the sort of thing as goes on among you + here. I can’t sleep in a bed; I can’t stop in a room; I can’t be + comfortable in decent clothes; I can’t stray into a singing-shop, as I did + to-night, without a dust being kicked up all round me, because I haven’t + got a proper head of hair like everybody else. I can’t shake up along with + the rest of you, nohow; I’m used to hard lines and a wild country; and I + shall go back and die over there among the lonesome places where there’s + plenty of room for me.” And again Mat jerked his hand carelessly in the + direction of the American continent. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don’t talk about going back!” cried Zack; “you’re sure to find + somebody left at home—don’t you think so yourself, old fellow?” + </p> + <p> + Mat made no answer. He suddenly slackened; then, as suddenly, increased + his pace; dragging young Thorpe with him at a headlong rate. + </p> + <p> + “You’re sure to find somebody,” continued Zack, in his offhand, familiar + way. “I don’t know—gently! we’re not walking for a wager—I + don’t know whether you’re married or not?” (Mat still made no answer, and + walked faster than ever.) “But if you havn’t got wife or child, every + fellow’s got a father and mother, you know; and most fellows have got + brothers or sisters—” + </p> + <p> + “Good night,” said Mat, stopping short, and abruptly holding out his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Why! what’s the matter now?” asked Zack, in astonishment. “What do you + want to part company for already? We are not near the end of the streets + yet. Have I said anything that’s offended you?” + </p> + <p> + “No, you havn’t. You can come and talk to me if you like, the day after + to-morrow. I shall be back then, whatever happens. I said I’d be like a + brother to you; and that means, in my lingo, doing anything you ask. Come + and smoke a pipe along with me, as soon as I’m back again. Do you know + Kirk Street? It’s nigh on the Market. Do you know a ‘bacco shop in Kirk + Street? It’s got a green door, and Fourteen written on it in yaller paint. + When I <i>am</i> shut up in a room of my own, which isn’t often, I’m shut + up there. I can’t give you the key of the house, because I want it + myself.” + </p> + <p> + “Kirk Street? That’s my way. Why can’t we go on together? What do you want + to say good-night here for?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I want to be left by myself. It’s not your fault; but you’ve set + me thinking of something that don’t make me easy in my mind. I’ve led a + lonesome life of it, young ‘un; straying away months and months out in the + wilderness, without a human being to speak to, I dare say that wasn’t a + right sort of life for a man to take up with; but I <i>did</i> take up + with it; and I can’t get over liking it sometimes still. When I’m not easy + in my mind, I want to be left lonesome as I used to be. I want it now. + Good night.” + </p> + <p> + Before Zack could enter his new friend’s address in his pocket-book, Mat + had crossed the road, and had disappeared in the dark distance dotted with + gaslights. In another moment, the last thump of his steady footstep died + away on the pavement, in the morning stillness of the street. + </p> + <p> + “That’s rather an odd fellow”—thought Zack as he pursued his own + road—“and we have got acquainted with each other in rather an odd + way. I shall certainly go and see him though, on Thursday; something may + come of it, one of these days.” + </p> + <p> + Zack was a careless guesser; but, in this case, he guessed right. + Something <i>did</i> come of it. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER II. THE PRODIGAL’S RETURN. + </h2> + <p> + When Zack reached Baregrove Square, it was four in the morning. The + neighboring church clock struck the hour as he approached his own door. + </p> + <p> + Immediately after parting with Mat, malicious Fate so ordained it that he + passed one of those late—or, to speak more correctly, early—public-houses, + which are open to customers during the “small hours” of the morning. He + was parched with thirst; and the hiccuping fit which had seized him in the + company of his new friend had not yet subsided. “Suppose I try what a drop + of brandy will do for me,” thought Zack, stopping at the fatal entrance of + the public-house. + </p> + <p> + He went in easily enough—but he came out with no little difficulty. + However, he had achieved his purpose of curing the hiccups. The remedy + employed acted, to be sure, on his legs as well as his stomach—but + that was a trifling physiological eccentricity quite unworthy of notice. + </p> + <p> + He was far too exclusively occupied in chuckling over the remembrance of + the agreeably riotous train of circumstances which had brought his new + acquaintance and himself together, to take any notice of his own personal + condition, or to observe that his course over the pavement was of a + somewhat sinuous nature, as he walked home. It was only when he pulled the + door-key out of his pocket, and tried to put it into the keyhole, that his + attention was fairly directed to himself; and then he discovered that his + hands were helpless, and that he was also by no means rigidly steady on + his legs. + </p> + <p> + There are some men whose minds get drunk, and some men whose bodies get + drunk, under the influence of intoxicating liquor. Zack belonged to the + second class. He was perfectly capable of understanding what was said to + him, and of knowing what he said himself, long after his utterance had + grown thick, and his gait had become uncertain. He was now quite conscious + that his visit to the public-house had by no means tended to sober him; + and quite awake to the importance of noiselessly stealing up to bed—but + he was, at the same time, totally unable to put the key into the door at + the first attempt, or to look comfortably for the key-hole, without + previously leaning against the area railings at his side. + </p> + <p> + “Steady,” muttered Zack, “I’m done for if I make any noise.” Here he felt + for the keyhole, and guided the key elaborately, with his left hand, into + its proper place. He next opened the door, so quietly that he was + astonished at himself—entered the passage with marvelous + stealthiness—then closed the door again, and cried “Hush!” when he + found that he had let the lock go a little too noisily. + </p> + <p> + He listened before he attempted to light his candle. The air of the house + felt strangely close and hot, after the air out of doors. The dark + stillness above and around him was instinct with an awful and virtuous + repose; and was deepened ominously by the solemn <i>tick-tick</i> of the + kitchen clock—never audible from the passage in the day time: + terribly and incomprehensibly distinct at this moment. + </p> + <p> + “I won’t bolt the door,” he whispered to himself, “till I have struck a—” + Here the unreliability of brandy as a curative agent in cases of + fermentation in the stomach, was palpably demonstrated by a sudden return + of the hiccuping fit. “Hush!” cried Zack for the second time; terrified at + the violence and suddenness of the relapse, and clapping his hand to his + mouth when it was too late. + </p> + <p> + After groping, on his knees, with extraordinary perseverance all round the + rim of his bed-room candlestick, which stood on one of the hall chairs, he + succeeded—not in finding the box of matches—but in knocking it + off the chair, and sending it rolling over the stone floor, until it was + stopped by the opposite wall. With some difficulty he captured it, and + struck a light. Never, in all Zack’s experience, had any former matches + caught flame with such a shrill report, as was produced from the one + disastrous match which he happened to select to light his candle with. + </p> + <p> + The next thing to be done was to bolt the door. He succeeded very well + with the bolt at the top, but failed signally with the bolt at the bottom, + which appeared particularly difficult to deal with that night. It first of + all creaked fiercely on being moved—then stuck spitefully just at + the entrance of the staple—then slipped all of a sudden, under + moderate pressure, and ran like lightning into its appointed place, with a + bang of malicious triumph. “If that doesn’t bring my father down”—thought + Zack, listening with all his ears, and stifling the hiccups with all his + might—“he’s a harder sleeper than I take him for.” + </p> + <p> + But no door opened, no voice called, no sound of any kind broke the + mysterious stillness of the bedroom regions. Zack sat down on the stairs, + and took his boots off, got up again with some little difficulty, + listened, took his candlestick, listened once more, whispered to himself, + “Now for it!” and began the perilous ascent to his own room. + </p> + <p> + He held tight by the banisters, only falling against them, and making them + crack from top to bottom once, before he reached the drawing-room landing. + He ascended the second flight of stairs without casualties of any kind, + until he got to the top step, close by his father’s bed-room door. Here, + by a dire fatality, the stifled hiccups burst beyond all control; and + distinctly asserted themselves by one convulsive yelp, which betrayed Zack + into a start of horror. The start shook his candlestick: the extinguisher, + which lay loose in it, dropped out, hopped playfully down the stone + stairs, and rolled over the landing with a loud and lively ring—a + devilish and brazen flourish of exultation in honor of its own activity. + </p> + <p> + “Oh Lord!” faintly ejaculated Zack, as he heard somebody’s voice speaking, + and somebody’s body moving, in the bed-room; and remembered that he had to + mount another flight of stairs—wooden stairs this time—before + he got to his own quarters on the garret-floor. + </p> + <p> + He went up, however, directly, with the recklessness of despair; every + separate stair creaking and cracking under him, as if a young elephant had + been retiring to bed instead of a young man. He blew out his light, tore + off his clothes, and, slipping between the sheets, began to breathe + elaborately, as if he was fast asleep—in the desperate hope of being + still able to deceive his father, if Mr. Thorpe came up stairs to look + after him. + </p> + <p> + No sooner had he assumed a recumbent position than a lusty and ceaseless + singing began in his ears, which bewildered and half deafened him. His + bed, the room, the house, the whole world tore round and round, and heaved + up and down frantically with him. He ceased to be a human being: he became + a giddy atom, spinning drunkenly in illimitable space. He started up in + bed, and was recalled to a sense of his humanity by a cold perspiration + and a deathly qualm. Hiccups burst from him no longer; but they were + succeeded by another and a louder series of sound—sounds familiar to + everybody who has ever been at sea—sounds nautically and lamentably + associated with white basins, whirling waves, and misery of mortal + stomachs wailing in emetic despair. + </p> + <p> + In the momentary pauses between the rapidly successive attacks of the + malady which now overwhelmed him, and which he attributed in after-life + entirely to the dyspeptic influences of toasted cheese, Zack was faintly + conscious of the sound of slippered feet ascending the stairs. His back + was to the door. He had no strength to move, no courage to look round, no + voice to raise in supplication. He knew that his door was opened—that + a light came into the room—that a voice cried “Degraded beast!”—that + the door was suddenly shut again with a bang—and that he was left + once more in total darkness. He did not care for the light, or the voice, + or the banging of the door: he did not think of them afterwards; he did + not mourn over the past, or speculate on the future. He just sank back on + his pillow with a gasp, drew the clothes over him with a groan, and fell + asleep, blissfully reckless of the retribution that was to come with the + coming daylight. + </p> + <p> + When he woke, late the next morning, conscious of nothing, at first, + except that it was thawing fast out of doors, and that he had a violent + headache, but gradually recalled to a remembrance of the memorable fight + in the Snuggery by a sense of soreness in his ribs, and a growing + conviction that his nose had become too large for his face, Zack’s memory + began, correctly though confusedly, to retrace the circumstances attending + his return home, and his disastrous journey up stairs to bed. With these + recollections were mingled others of the light which had penetrated into + his room, after his own candle was out; of the voice which had denounced + him as a “Degraded beast;” and of the banging of the door which had + followed. There could be no doubt that it was his father who had entered + the room and apostrophized him in the briefly emphatic terms which he was + now calling to mind. Never had Mr. Thorpe, on any former occasion, been + known to call names, or bang doors. It was quite clear that he had + discovered everything, and was exasperated with his son as he had never + been exasperated with any other human being before in his life. + </p> + <p> + Just as Zack arrived at this conclusion, he heard the rustling of his + mother’s dress on the stairs, and Mrs. Thorpe, with her handkerchief to + her eyes, presented herself woefully at his bedside. Profoundly and + penitently wretched, he tried to gain his mother’s forgiveness before he + encountered his father’s wrath. To do him justice, he was so thoroughly + ashamed to meet her eye, that he turned his face to the wall, and in that + position appealed to his mother’s compassion in the most moving terms, and + with the most vehement protestations which he had ever addressed to her. + </p> + <p> + The only effect he produced on Mrs. Thorpe was to make her walk up and + down the room in violent agitation, sobbing bitterly. Now and then a few + words burst lamentably and incoherently from her lips. They were just + articulate enough for him to gather from them that his father had + discovered everything, had suffered in consequence from an attack of + palpitation of the heart, and had felt himself, on rising that morning, so + unequal, both in mind and body, to deal unaided with the enormity of his + son’s offense, that he had just gone out to request the co-operation of + the Reverend Aaron Yollop. On discovering this, Zack’s penitence changed + instantly into a curious mixture of indignation and alarm. He turned round + quickly towards his mother. But, before he could open his lips, she + informed him, speaking with an unexampled severity of tone, that he was on + no account to think of going to the office as usual, but was to wait at + home until his father’s return—and then hurried from the room. The + fact was, that Mrs. Thorpe distrusted her own inflexibility, if she stayed + too long in the presence of her penitent son; but Zack could not, + unhappily, know this. He could only see that she left him abruptly, after + delivering an ominous message; and could only place the gloomiest + interpretation on her conduct. + </p> + <p> + “When mother turns against me, I’ve lost my last chance.” He stopped + before he ended the sentence, and sat up in bed, deliberating with himself + for a minute or two. “I could make up my mind to bear anything from my + father, because he has a right to be angry with me, after what I’ve done. + But if I stand old Yollop again, I’ll be—” Here, whatever Zack said + was smothered in the sound of a blow, expressive of fury and despair, + which he administered to the mattress on which he was sitting. Having + relieved himself thus, he jumped out of bed, pronouncing at last in real + earnest those few words of fatal slang which had often burst from his lips + in other days as an empty threat:— + </p> + <p> + “It’s all over with me; I must bolt from home.” + </p> + <p> + He refreshed both mind and body by a good wash; but still his resolution + did not falter. He hurried on his clothes, looked out of window, listened + at his door; and all this time his purpose never changed. Remembering but + too well the persecution he had already suffered at the hands of Mr. + Yollop, the conviction that it would now be repeated with fourfold + severity was enough of itself to keep him firm to his desperate intention. + When he had done dressing, his thoughts were suddenly recalled by the + sight of his pocket-book to his companion of the past night. As he + reflected on the appointment for Thursday morning, his eyes brightened, + and he said to himself aloud, while he turned resolutely to the door, + “That queer fellow talked of going back to America. If I can’t do anything + else, I’ll go back with him!” + </p> + <p> + Just as his hand was on the lock, he was startled by a knock at the door. + He opened it, and found the housemaid on the landing with a letter for + him. Returning to the window, he hastily undid the envelope. Several + gaily-printed invitation cards with gilt edges dropped out. There was a + letter among them, which proved to be in Mr. Blyth’s handwriting, and ran + thus:— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Wednesday. +</pre> + <p> + “MY DEAR ZACK—The enclosed are the tickets for my picture show, + which I told you about yesterday evening. I send them now, instead of + waiting to give them to you to-night, at Lavvie’s suggestion. She thinks + only three days’ notice, from now to Saturday, rather short, and considers + it advisable to save even a few hours, so as to enable you to give your + friends the most time possible to make their arrangements for coming to my + studio. Post all the invitation tickets, therefore, that you send about + among your connection, at once, as I am posting mine; and you will save a + day by that means, which is a good deal. Patty is obliged to pass your + house this morning on an errand, so I send my letter by her. How + conveniently things sometimes turn out, don’t they? + </p> + <p> + “Introduce anybody you like; but I should prefer <i>intellectual</i> + people; my figure-subject of ‘Columbus in sight of the New World’ being + treated mystically, and, therefore, adapted to tax the popular mind to the + utmost. Please warn your friends beforehand that it is a work of high art, + and that nobody can hope to understand it in a hurry. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Affectionately yours, + + “V. BLYTH.” + </pre> + <p> + The perusal of this letter reminded Zack of certain recent aspirations in + the direction of the fine arts, which had escaped his slippery memory + altogether, while he was thinking of his future prospects. “I’ll stick to + my first idea,” he thought, “and be an artist, if Blyth will let me, after + what’s happened. If he won’t, I’ve got Mat to fall back upon; and I’ll run + as wild in America as ever he did.” + </p> + <p> + Reflecting thus, Zack descended cautiously to the back parlor, which was + called a “library.” The open door showed him that no one was in the room. + He went in, and in great haste scrawled the following answer to Mr. + Blyth’s letter:— + </p> + <p> + “MY DEAR BLYTH—Thank you for the tickets. I have got into a dreadful + scrape, having been found out coming home tipsy at four in the morning, + which I did by stealing the family door-key. My prospects after this are + so extremely unpleasant that I am going to make a bolt of it. I write + these lines in a tearing hurry, for fear my father should come home before + I have done—he having gone to Yollop’s to set the parson at me again + worse than ever. + </p> + <p> + “I can’t come to you to-night, because your house would be the first place + they would send to after me. But I mean to be an artist, if you won’t + desert me. Don’t, my dear fellow! I know I’m a scamp; but I’ll try and be + a reformed character, if you will only stick by me. When you take your + walk tomorrow, I shall be at the turnpike in the Laburnum Road, waiting + for you, at three o’clock. If you won’t come there, or won’t speak to me + when you do come, I shall leave England and take to something desperate. + </p> + <p> + “I have got a new friend—the best and most interesting fellow in the + world. He has been half his life in the wilds of America; so, if you don’t + give me the go-by, I shall bring him to see your picture of Columbus. + </p> + <p> + “I feel so miserable, and have got such a headache, that I can’t write any + more. Ever yours, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Z. THORPE, JUN.” + </pre> + <p> + After directing this letter, and placing it in his pocket to be put into + the post by his own hand, Zack looked towards the door and hesitated—advanced + a step or two to go out—and ended by returning to the writing-table, + and taking a fresh sheet of paper out of the portfolio before him. + </p> + <p> + “I can’t leave the old lady (though she won’t forgive me) without writing + a line to keep up her spirits and say goodbye,” he thought, as he dipped + the pen in the ink, and began in his usual dashing, scrawling way. But he + could not get beyond “My dear Mother.” The writing of those three words + seemed to have suddenly paralyzed him. The strong hand that had struck out + so sturdily all through the fight, trembled now at merely touching a sheet + of paper. Still, he tried desperately to write something, even if it were + only the one word, “Goodbye.”—tried till the tears came into his + eyes, and made all further effort hopeless. + </p> + <p> + He crumpled up the paper and rose hastily, brushing away the tears with + his hand, and feeling a strange dread and distrust of himself as he did + so. It was rarely, very rarely, that his eyes were moistened as they were + moistened now. Few human beings have lived to be twenty years of age + without shedding more tears than had ever been shed by Zack. + </p> + <p> + “I can’t write to her while I’m at home, and I know she’s in the next room + to me. I will send her a letter when I’m out of the house, saying it’s + only for a little time, and that I’m coming back when the angry part of + this infernal business is all blown over.” Such was his resolution, as he + tore up the crumpled paper, and went out quickly into the passage. + </p> + <p> + He took his hat from the table. <i>His</i> hat? No: he remembered that it + was the hat which had been taken from the man at the tavern. At the most + momentous instant of his life—when his heart was bowing down before + the thought of his mother—when he was leaving home in secret, + perhaps for ever—the current of his thoughts could be + incomprehensibly altered in its course by the influence of such a trifle + as this! + </p> + <p> + It was thus with him; it is thus with all of us. Our faculties are never + more completely at the mercy of the smallest interests of our being, than + when they appear to be most fully absorbed by the mightiest. And it is + well for us that there exists this seeming imperfection in our nature. The + first cure of many a grief, after the hour of parting, or in the house of + death, has begun, insensibly to ourselves, with the first moment when we + were betrayed into thinking of so little a thing even as a daily meal. + </p> + <p> + The rain which had accompanied the thaw was falling faster and faster; + inside the house was dead silence, and outside it damp desolation, as Zack + opened the street door, and, without hesitating a moment, dashed out + desperately through mud and wet, to cast himself loose on the thronged + world of London as a fugitive from his own home. + </p> + <p> + He paused before he took the turning out of the square; the recollections + of weeks, months, years past, all whirling through his memory in a few + moments of time. He paused, looking through the damp, foggy atmosphere at + the door which he had just left—never, it might be, to approach it + again; then moved away, buttoned his coat over his chest with trembling, + impatient fingers, and saying to himself, “I’ve done it, and nothing can + undo it now,” turned his back resolutely on Baregrove Square. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER III. THE SEARCH BEGUN. + </h2> + <p> + The street which Mat had chosen for his place of residence in London, was + situated in a densely populous, and by no means respectable neighborhood. + In Kirk Street the men of the fustian-jacket and seal-skin cap clustered + tumultuous round the lintels of the gin-shop doors. Here ballad-bellowing, + and organ grinding, and voices of costermongers, singing of poor men’s + luxuries, never ceased all through the hum of day, and penetrated far into + the frowzy repose of latest night. Here, on Saturday evenings especially, + the butcher smacked with appreciating hand the fat carcasses that hung + around him; and flourishing his steel, roared aloud to every woman who + passed the shop door with a basket, to come in and buy—buy—buy! + Here, with foul frequency, the language of the natives was interspersed + with such words as reporters indicate in the newspapers by an expressive + black line; and on this “beat,” more than on most others, the night police + were chosen from men of mighty strength to protect the sober part of the + street community, and of notable cunning to persuade the drunken part to + retire harmlessly brawling into the seclusion of their own homes. + </p> + <p> + Such was the place in which Mat had set up his residence, after twenty + years of wandering amid the wilds of the great American Continent. + </p> + <p> + Never was tenant of any order or degree known to make such conditions with + a landlord as were made by this eccentric stranger. Every household + convenience with which the people at the lodgings could offer to + accommodate him, Mat considered to be a domestic nuisance which it was + particularly desirable to get rid of. He stipulated that nobody should be + allowed to clean his room but himself; that the servant-of-all-work should + never attempt to make his bed, or offer to put sheets on it, or venture to + cook him a morsel of dinner when he stopped at home; and that he should be + free to stay away unexpectedly for days and nights together, if he chose, + without either landlord or landlady presuming to be anxious or to make + inquiries about him, as long as they had his rent in their pockets. This + rent he willingly covenanted to pay beforehand, week by week, as long as + his stay lasted; and he was also ready to fee the servant occasionally, + provided she would engage solemnly “not to upset his temper by doing + anything for him.” + </p> + <p> + The proprietor of the house (and tobacco-shop) was at first extremely + inclined to be distrustful; but as he was likewise extremely familiar with + poverty, he was not proof against the auriferous halo which the production + of a handful of bright sovereigns shed gloriously over the oddities of the + new lodger. The bargain was struck; and Mat went away directly to fetch + his personal baggage. + </p> + <p> + After an absence of some little time, he returned with a large corn-sack + on his back, and a long rifle in his hand. This was his luggage. + </p> + <p> + First putting the rifle on his bed, in the back room, he cleared away all + the little second-hand furniture with which the front room was decorated; + packing the three rickety chairs together in one corner, and turning up + the cracked round table in another. Then, untying a piece of cord which + secured the mouth of the corn-sack, he emptied it over his shoulder into + the middle of the room—just (as the landlady afterwards said) as if + it was coals coming in instead of luggage. Among the things which fell out + on the floor in a heap, were—some bearskins and a splendid + buffalo-hide, neatly packed; a pipe, two red flannel shirts, a + tobacco-pouch, and an Indian blanket; a leather bag, a gunpowder flask, + two squares of yellow soap, a bullet mold, and a nightcap; a tomahawk, a + paper of nails, a scrubbing-brush, a hammer, and an old gridiron. Having + emptied the sack, Mat took up the buffalo hide, and spread it out on his + bed, with a very expressive sneer at the patchwork counterpane and meager + curtains. He next threw down the bear skins, with the empty sack under + them, in an unoccupied corner; propped up the leather bag between two + angles of the wall; took his pipe from the floor; left everything else + lying in the middle of the room; and, sitting down on the bearskins with + his back against the bag, told the astonished landlord that he was quite + settled and comfortable, and would thank him to go down stairs, and send + up a pound of the strongest tobacco he had in the shop. + </p> + <p> + Mat’s subsequent proceedings during the rest of the day—especially + such as were connected with his method of laying in a stock of provisions, + and cooking his own dinner—exhibited the same extraordinary + disregard of all civilized precedent which had marked his first entry into + the lodgings. After he had dined, he took a nap on his bear skins; woke up + grumbling at the close air and the confined room; smoked a long series of + pipes, looking out of window all the time with quietly observant, + constantly attentive eyes; and, finally, rising to the climax of all his + previous oddities, came down when the tobacco shop was being shut up after + the closing of the neighboring theater, and coolly asked which was his + nearest way into the country, as he wanted to clear his head, and stretch + his legs, by making a walking night of it in the fresh air. + </p> + <p> + He began the next morning by cleaning both his rooms thoroughly with his + own hands; and seemed to enjoy the occupation mightily in his own grim, + grave way. His dining, napping, smoking, and observant study of the street + view from his window, followed as on the previous day. But at night, + instead of setting forth into the country as before, he wandered into the + streets; and, in the course of his walk, happened to pass the door of the + Snuggery. What happened to him there is already known; but what became of + him afterwards remains to be seen. + </p> + <p> + On leaving Zack, he walked straight on; not slackening his pace, not + noticing whither he went, not turning to go back till daybreak. It was + past nine o’clock before he presented himself at the tobacco-shop, + bringing in with him a goodly share of mud and wet from the thawing ground + and rainy sky outside. His long walk did not seem to have relieved the + uneasiness of mind which had induced him to separate so suddenly from + Zack. He talked almost perpetually to himself in a muttering, incoherent + way; his heavy brow was contracted, and the scars of the old wounds on his + face looked angry and red. The first thing he did was to make some + inquiries of his landlord relating to railway traveling, and to the part + of London in which a certain terminus that he had been told of was + situated. Finding it not easy to make him understand any directions + connected with this latter point, the shopkeeper suggested sending for a + cab to take him to the railway. He briefly assented to that arrangement; + occupying the time before the vehicle arrived, in walking sullenly + backwards and forwards over the pavement in front of the shop door. + </p> + <p> + When the cab came to take him up, he insisted, with characteristic + regardlessness of appearances, on riding upon the roof, because he could + get more air to blow over him, and more space for stretching his legs in, + there than inside. Arriving in this irregular and vagabond fashion at the + terminus, he took his ticket for DIBBLEDEAN, a quiet little market town in + one of the midland counties. + </p> + <p> + When he was set down at the station, he looked about him rather + perplexedly at first; but soon appeared to recognize a road, visible at + some little distance, which led to the town; and towards which he + immediately directed his steps, scorning all offers of accommodation from + the local omnibus. + </p> + <p> + It did not happen to be market day; and the thaw looked even more dreary + at Dibbledean than it looked in London. Down the whole perspective of the + High Street there appeared only three human figures—a woman in + pattens; a child under a large umbrella; and a man with a hamper on his + back, walking towards the yard of the principal inn. + </p> + <p> + Mat had slackened his pace more and more as he approached the town, until + he slackened it altogether at last, by coming to a dead stand-still under + the walls of the old church, which stood at one extremity of the High + Street, in what seemed to be the suburban district of Dibbledean. He + waited for some time, looking over the low parapet wall which divided the + churchyard from the road—then slowly approached a gate leading to a + path among the grave-stones—stopped at it—apparently changed + his purpose—and, turning off abruptly, walked up the High Street. + </p> + <p> + He did not pause again till he arrived opposite a long, low, gabled house, + evidently one of the oldest buildings in the place, though brightly + painted and whitewashed, to look as new and unpicturesque as possible. The + basement story was divided into two shops; which, however, proclaimed + themselves as belonging now, and having belonged also in former days, to + one and the same family. Over the larger of the two was painted in letters + of goodly size:— + </p> + <p> + <i>Bradford and Son (late Joshua Grice), Linendrapers, Hosiers, &c., + &c.</i> + </p> + <p> + The board on which these words were traced was continued over the smaller + shop, where it was additionally superscribed thus:— + </p> + <p> + <i>Mrs. Bradford (late Joanna Grice), Milliner and Dressmaker.</i> + </p> + <p> + Regardless of rain, and droppings from eaves that trickled heavily down + his hat and coat, Mat stood motionless, reading and re-reading these + inscriptions from the opposite side of the way. Though the whole man, from + top to toe, was the very impersonation of firmness, he nevertheless + hesitated most unnaturally now. At one moment he seemed to be on the point + of entering the shop before him—at another, he turned half round + towards the churchyard which he had left behind him. At last he decided to + go back to the churchyard, and retraced his steps accordingly. + </p> + <p> + He entered quickly by the gate at which he had delayed before; and pursued + the path among the graves a little way. Then striking off over the grass, + after a moment’s consideration and looking about him, he wound his course + hither and thither among the turf mounds, and stopped suddenly at a plain + flat tombstone, raised horizontally above the earth by a foot or so of + brickwork. Bending down over it, he read the characters engraven on the + slab. + </p> + <p> + There were four inscriptions, all of the simplest and shortest kind, + comprising nothing but a record of the names, ages, and birth and death + dates of the dead who lay beneath. The first two inscriptions notified the + deaths of children:—“Joshua Grice, son of Joshua and Susan Grice, of + this parish, aged four years;” and “Susan Grice, daughter of the above, + aged thirteen years.” The next death recorded was the mother’s: and the + last was the father’s, at the age of sixty-two. Below this followed a + quotation from the New Testament:—<i>Come unto me all ye that are + weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest.</i> It was on these + lines, and on the record above them of the death of Joshua Grice the + elder, that the eyes of the lonely reader rested longest; his lips + murmuring several times, as he looked down on the letters:—“He lived + to be an old man—he lived to be an old man after all!” + </p> + <p> + There was sufficient vacant space left towards the bottom of the tombstone + for two or three more inscriptions; and it appeared as if Mat expected to + have seen more. He looked intently at the vacant space, and measured it + roughly with his fingers, comparing it with the space above, which was + occupied by letters. “Not there, at any rate!” he said to himself, as he + left the churchyard, and walked back to the town. + </p> + <p> + This time he entered the double shop—the hosiery division of it—without + hesitation. No one was there, but the young man who served behind the + counter. And right glad the young man looked, having been long left + without a soul to speak to on that rainy morning, to see some one—even + a stranger with an amazing skull-cap under his hat—enter the shop at + last. + </p> + <p> + What could he serve the gentleman with? The gentleman had not come to buy. + He only desired to know whether Joanna Grice, who used to keep the + dressmaker’s shop, was still living? + </p> + <p> + Still living, certainly! the young man replied, with brisk civility. Miss + Grice, whose brother once had the business now carried on by Bradford and + Son, still resided in the town; and was a very curious old person, who + never went out, and let nobody inside her doors. Most of her old friends + were dead; and those who were still alive she had broken with. She was + full of fierce, wild ways; was suspected of being crazy; and was execrated + by the boys of Dibbledean as an “old tiger-cat.” In all probability, her + intellects were a little shaken, years ago, by a dreadful scandal in the + family, which quite crushed them down, being very respectable, religious + people— + </p> + <p> + At this point the young man was interrupted, in a very uncivil manner, by + the stranger, who desired to hear nothing about the scandal, but who had + another question to ask. This question seemed rather a difficult one to + put; for he began it two or three times, in two or three different forms + of words, and failed to get on with it. At last, he ended by asking, + generally, whether any other members of old Mr. Grice’s family were still + alive. + </p> + <p> + For a moment or so the shopman was stupid and puzzled, and asked what + other members the gentleman meant. Old Mrs. Grice had died some time ago; + and there had been two children who died young, and whose names were in + the churchyard. “Did the gentleman mean the second daughter, who lived and + grew up beautiful, and was, as the story went, the cause of all the + scandal? If so, the young person ran away, and died miserably somehow—nobody + knew how; and was supposed to have been buried like a pauper somewhere—nobody + knew where, unless it was Miss Grice—” + </p> + <p> + The young man stopped and looked perplexed. A sudden change had passed + over the strange gentleman’s face. His swarthy cheeks had turned to a cold + clay color, through which his two scars seemed to burn fiercer than ever, + like streaks of fire. His heavy hand and arm trembled a little as he + leaned against the counter. Was he going to be taken ill? No: he walked at + once from the counter to the door—turned round there, and asked + where Joanna Grice lived. The young man answered, the second turning to + the right, down a street, which ended in a lane of cottages. Miss Grice’s + was the last cottage on the left hand; but he could assure the gentleman + that it would be quite useless to go there, for she let nobody in. The + gentleman thanked him, and went, nevertheless. + </p> + <p> + “I didn’t think it would have took me so,” Mat said, walking quickly up + the street; “and it wouldn’t if I’d heard it anywhere else. But I’m not + the man I was, now I’m in the old place again. Over twenty year of + hardening, don’t seem to have hardened me yet!” + </p> + <p> + He followed the directions given him, correctly enough, arrived at the + last cottage on his left hand, and tried the garden gate. It was locked; + and there was no bell to ring. But the paling was low, and Mat was not + scrupulous. He got over it, and advanced to the cottage door. It opened, + like other doors in the country, merely by turning the handle of the lock. + He went in without any hesitation, and entered the first room into which + the passage led him. It was a small parlor; and, at the back window, which + looked out on a garden, sat Joanna Grice, a thin, dwarfish old woman, + poring over a big book which looked like a Bible. She started from her + chair, as she heard the sound of footsteps, and tottered up fiercely, with + wild wandering grey eyes and horny threatening hands, to meet the + intruder. He let her come close to him; then mentioned a name—pronouncing + it twice, very distinctly. + </p> + <p> + She paused instantly, livid pale, with gaping lips, and arms hanging rigid + at her side; as if that name, or the voice in which it had been uttered, + had frozen up in a moment all the little life left in her. Then she moved + back slowly, groping with her hands like one in the dark—back, till + she touched the wall of the room Against this she leaned, trembling + violently; not speaking a word; her wild eyes staring panic-stricken on + the man who was confronting her. + </p> + <p> + He sat down unbidden, and asked if she did not remember him. No answer was + given; no movement made that might serve instead of an answer. He asked + again; a little impatiently this time. She nodded her head and stared at + him—still speechless, still trembling. + </p> + <p> + He told her what he had heard at the shop; and using the shopman’s + phrases, asked whether it was true that the daughter of old Mr. Grice, who + was the cause of all the scandal in the family, had died long since, away + from her home, and in a miserable way? + </p> + <p> + There was something in his look, as he spoke, which seemed to oblige her + to answer against her will. She said Yes; and trembled more violently than + ever. + </p> + <p> + He clasped his hands together; his head drooped a little; dark shadows + seemed to move over his bent face; and the scars of the old wounds + deepened to a livid violet hue. + </p> + <p> + His silence and hesitation seemed to inspire Joanna Grice with sudden + confidence and courage. She moved a little away from the wall, and a gleam + of triumph lightened over her face, as she reiterated her last answer of + her own accord. “Yes! the wretch who ruined the good name of the family <i>was</i> + dead—dead, and buried far off, in some grave by herself—not + there, in the churchyard with her father and mother—no, thank God, + not there!” + </p> + <p> + He looked up at her instantly, when she said those words, There was some + warning influence in his eye, as it rested on her, which sent her cowering + back again to her former place against the wall. Mentioning the name for + the first time, he asked sternly where Mary was buried. The reply—doled + out doggedly and slowly, forced from her word by word—was, that Mary + was buried among strangers, as she deserved to be—at a place called + Bangbury—far away in the next county, where she died, and where + money was sent to bury her. + </p> + <p> + His manner became less roughly imperative; his eyes softened; his voice + saddened in tone, when he spoke again. And yet, the next question that he + put to Joanna Grice seemed to pierce her to the quick, to try her to the + heart, as no questioning had tried her before. The muscles were writhing + on her haggard face, her breath burst from her in quick, fierce pantings, + as he asked plainly, whether it was only suspicion, or really the truth, + that Mary was with child when she left her home? + </p> + <p> + No answer was given to him. He repeated the question, and insisted on + having one. Was it suspicion, or truth? The reply hissed out at him in one + whispered word—Truth. + </p> + <p> + Was the child born alive? + </p> + <p> + The answer came again in the same harsh whisper—Yes: born alive. + </p> + <p> + What became of it? + </p> + <p> + She never saw it—never asked about it—never knew. While she + replied thus, her whispering accents changed, and rose sullenly to hoarse, + distinct tones. But it was not till the questioner spoke to her once more + that the smothered fury flashed out into flaming rage. Then, even as he + raised his head and opened his lips, she staggered, with outstretched + arms, up to the table at which she had been reading when he came in; and + struck her bony hands on the open Bible; and swore by the Word of Truth in + that Book, that she would answer him no more. + </p> + <p> + He rose calmly; and with something of contempt in his look, approached the + table and spoke. But his voice was drowned by hers, bursting from her in + screams of fury. No! no! no! Not a word more! How dare he come there, with + his shameless face and his threatening eyes, and make her speak of what + should never have passed her lips again—never till she went up to + render her account at the Judgment Seat! Relations! let him not speak to + her of relations. The only kindred she ever cared to own, lay heart-broken + under the great stone in the churchyard. Relations! if they all came to + life again this very minute, what could she have to do with them, whose + only relation was Death? Yes; Death, that was father, mother, brother, + sister to her now! Death, that was waiting to take her in God’s good time. + What! would he stay on in spite of her? stay after she had sworn not to + answer him another word? + </p> + <p> + Yes; he was resolved to stay—and resolved to know more. Had Mary + left nothing behind her, on the day when she fled from her home? + </p> + <p> + Some suddenly-conceived resolution seemed to calm the first fury of Joanna + Grice’s passion, while he said those words. She stretched out her hand + quickly, and griped him by the arm, and looked up in his face with a + wicked exultation in her wild eyes. + </p> + <p> + He was bent on knowing what that ruined wretch left behind her? Well! he + should see for himself! + </p> + <p> + Between the leaves of Joanna Grice’s Bible there was a key, which seemed + to be used as a marker. She took it out, and led the way, with toilsome + step, and hands outstretched for support to the wall on one side and the + banisters on the other, up the one flight of stairs which communicated + with the bed-room story of the cottage. + </p> + <p> + He followed close behind her: and was standing by her side, when she + opened a door, and pointed into a room, telling him to take what he found + there, and then go—she cared not whither, so long as he went from + her. + </p> + <p> + She descended the stairs again, as he entered the room. There was a close, + faint, airless smell in it. Cobwebs, pendulous and brown with dirt, hung + from the ceiling. The grimy window-panes saddened all the light that + poured through them faintly. He looked round him, and saw no furniture + anywhere; no sign that the room had ever been lived in, ever entered even, + for years and years past. He looked again, more carefully: and detected, + in one dim corner, something covered with dust and dirt, which looked like + a small box. + </p> + <p> + He pulled it out towards the window. Dust flew from it in clouds. + Loathsome, crawling creatures crept from under it and from off it. He + stirred it with his foot still nearer to the faint light, and saw that it + was a common deal-box, corded. He looked closer, and through cobwebs, and + dead insects, and foul stains of all kinds, spelt out a name that was + painted on it: MARY GRICE. + </p> + <p> + At the sight of that name, and of the pollution which covered it, he + paused, silent and thoughtful; and, at the same moment, heard the parlor + door below, locked. He stooped hastily, took up the box by the cord round + it, and left the room. His hand touched a substance, as he grasped the + cord, which did not feel like wood. Examining the box by the clearer light + falling on the landing from a window in the roof, he discovered a letter + nailed to the cover. There was something written on it; but the paper was + dusty, the ink was faded by time, and the characters were hard to + decipher. By dint of perseverance, however, he made out from them this + inscription: “Justification of my conduct towards my niece: to be read + after my death. Joanna Grice.” + </p> + <p> + As he passed the parlor door, he heard her voice, reading. He stopped and + listened. The words that reached his ears seemed familiar to them; and yet + he knew not, at first, what book they came from. He listened a little + longer; his recollections of his boyhood and of home helped him; and he + knew that the book from which Joanna Grice was reading aloud to herself + was the Bible. + </p> + <p> + His face darkened, and he went out quickly into the garden; but stopped + before he reached the paling, and, turning back to the front window of the + parlor, looked in. He saw her sitting with her back to him, with elbows on + the table, and hands working feverishly in her tangled grey hair. Her + voice was still audible; but the words it pronounced could no longer be + distinguished. He waited at the window for a few moments; then left it + suddenly, saying to himself: “I wonder the book don’t strike her dead!” + Those were his only words of farewell. With that thought in his heart, he + turned his back on the cottage, and on Joanna Grice. + </p> + <p> + He went on through the rain, taking the box with him, and looking about + for some sheltered place in which he could open it. After walking nearly a + mile, he saw an old cattle-shed, a little way off the road—a rotten, + deserted place; but it afforded some little shelter, even yet: so he + entered it. + </p> + <p> + There was one dry corner left; dry enough, at least, to suit his purpose. + In that he knelt down, and cut the cord round the box—hesitated + before he opened it—and began by tearing away the letter outside, + from the nail that fastened it to the cover. + </p> + <p> + It was a long letter, written in a close, crabbed hand. He ran his eye + over it impatiently, till his attention was accidentally caught and + arrested by two or three lines, more clearly penned than the rest, near + the middle of a page. For many years he had been unused to reading any + written characters; but he spelt out resolutely the words in the few lines + which first struck his eye, and found that they ran thus:— + </p> + <p> + “I have now only to add, before proceeding to the miserable confession of + our family dishonor, that I never afterwards saw, and only once heard of, + the man who tempted my niece to commit the deadly sin, which was her ruin + in this world, and will be her ruin in the next.” + </p> + <p> + Beyond those words, he made no effort to read further. Thrusting the + letter hastily into his pocket, he turned once more to the box. + </p> + <p> + It was sealed up with strips of tape, but not locked. He forced the lid + open, and saw inside a few simple articles of woman’s wearing apparel; a + little work-box; a lace collar, with the needle and thread still sticking + in it; several letters, here tied up in a packet, there scattered + carelessly; a gaily-bound album; a quantity of dried ferns and flower + leaves that had apparently fallen from between the pages: a piece of + canvas with a slipper-pattern worked on it; and a black dress waistcoat + with some unfinished embroidery on the collar. It was plain to him, at a + first glance, that these things had been thrown into the box anyhow, and + had been left just as they were thrown. For a moment or two, he kept his + eyes fixed on the sad significance of the confusion displayed before him; + then turned away his head, whispering to himself, mournfully and many + times, that name of “Mary,” which he had already pronounced while in the + presence of Joanna Grice. After a little, he mechanically picked out the + letters that lay scattered about the box; mechanically eyed the broken + seals and the addresses on each; mechanically put them back again + unopened, until he came to one which felt as if it had something inside + it. This circumstance stimulated him into unfolding the enclosure, and + examining what the letter might contain. + </p> + <p> + Nothing but a piece of paper neatly folded. He undid the folds, and found + part of a lock of hair inside, which he wrapped up again the moment he saw + it, as if anxious to conceal it from view as soon as possible. The letter + he examined more deliberately. It was in a woman’s handwriting; was + directed to “Miss Mary Grice, Dibbledean:” and was only dated “Bond + Street, London. Wednesday.” The post-mark, however, showed that it had + been written many years ago. It was not very long; so he set himself to + the task of making it all out from beginning to end. + </p> + <p> + This was what he read:— + </p> + <p> + “MY DEAREST MARY, + </p> + <p> + “I have just sent you your pretty hair bracelet by the coach, nicely + sealed and packed up by the jeweler. I have directed it to you by your own + name, as I direct this, remembering what you told me about your father + making it a point of honor never to open your letters and parcels; and + forbidding that ugly aunt Joanna of yours, ever to do so either. I hope + you will receive this and the little packet about the same time. + </p> + <p> + “I will answer for your thinking the pattern of your bracelet much + improved since the new hair has been worked in with the old. How slyly you + will run away to your own room, and <i>blush unseen,</i> like the flower + in the poem, when you look at it! You may be rather surprised, perhaps, to + see some little gold fastenings introduced as additions; but this, the + jeweler told me, was a matter of necessity. Your poor dear sister’s hair + being the only material of the bracelet, when you sent it up to me to be + altered, was very different from the hair of that faultless true-love of + yours which you also sent to be worked in with it. It was, in fact, hardly + half long enough to plait up properly with poor Susan’s, from end to end; + so the jeweler had to join it with little gold clasps, as you will see. It + is very prettily run in along with the old hair though. No country jeweler + could have done it half as nicely, so you did well to send it to London + after all. I consider myself rather a judge of these things; and I say + positively that it is now the prettiest hair bracelet I ever saw. + </p> + <p> + “Do you see him as often as ever? He ought to be true and faithful to you, + when you show how dearly you love him, by mixing his hair with poor + Susan’s, whom you were always so fondly attached to. I say he <i>ought;</i> + but <i>you</i> are sure to say he will—and I am quite ready, love, + to believe that you are the wiser of the two. + </p> + <p> + “I would write more, but have no time. It is just the regular London + season now, and we are worked out of our lives. I envy you dressmakers in + the country; and almost wish I was back again at Dibbledean, to be + tyrannized over from morning to night by Miss Joanna. I know she is your + aunt, my dear; but I can’t help saying that I hate her very name! + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Ever your affectionate friend, + + “JANE HOLDSWORTH. +</pre> + <p> + “P. S.—The jeweler sent back the hair he did not want; and I, as in + duty bound, return it enclosed to you, its lawful owner.” + </p> + <p> + Those scars on Mat’s face, which indicated the stir of strong feelings + within him more palpably than either his expression or his manner, began + to burn redly again while he spelt his way through this letter. He + crumpled it up hastily round the enclosure, instead of folding it as it + had been folded before; and was about to cast it back sharply into the + box, when the sight of the wearing apparel and half-finished work lying + inside seemed to stay his hand, and teach it on a sudden to move tenderly. + He smoothed out the paper with care, and placed it very gently among the + rest of the letters—then looked at the box thoughtfully for a moment + or two; took from his pocket the letter that he had first examined, and + dropped it in among the others—then suddenly and sharply closed the + lid of the box again. + </p> + <p> + “I can’t touch any more of her things,” he said to himself; “I can’t so + much as look at ‘em, somehow, without its making me—” he stopped to + tie up the box; straining at the cords, as if the mere physical exertion + of pulling hard at something were a relief to him at that moment. “I’ll + open it again and look it over in a day or two, when I’m away from the old + place here,” he resumed, jerking sharply at the last knot—“when I’m + away from the old place, and have got to be my own man again.” + </p> + <p> + He left the shed; regained the road; and stopped, looking up and down, and + all round him, indecisively. Where should he go next? To the grave, where + he had been told that Mary lay buried? No: not until he had first read all + the letters and carefully examined all the objects in the box. Back to + London, and to his promised meeting next morning with Zack? Yes: nothing + better was left to be done—back to London. + </p> + <p> + Before nightfall he was journeying again to the great city, and to his + meeting with Zack; journeying (though he little thought it) to the place + where the clue lay hid—the clue to the Mystery of Mary Grice. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IV. FATE WORKS, WITH ZACK FOR AN INSTRUMENT. + </h2> + <p> + A quarter of an hour’s rapid walking from his father’s door, took Zack + well out of the neighborhood of Baregrove Square, and launched him in + vagabond independence loose on the world. He had a silk handkerchief and + sevenpence halfpenny in his pockets—his available assets consisted + of a handsome gold watch and chain—his only article of baggage was a + blackthorn stick—and his anchor of hope was the Pawnbroker. + </p> + <p> + His first action, now that he had become his own master, was to go direct + to the nearest stationer’s shop that he could find, and there to write the + penitent letter to his mother over which his heart had failed him in the + library at Baregrove Square. It was about as awkward, scrambling, and + incoherent an epistolary production as ever was composed. But Zack felt + easier when he had completed it—easier still when he had actually + dropped it into the post-office along with his other letter to Mr. + Valentine Blyth. + </p> + <p> + The next duty that claimed him was the first great duty of civilized + humanity—the filling of an empty purse. Most young gentlemen in his + station of life would have found the process of pawning a watch in the + streets of London, and in broad daylight, rather an embarrassing one. But + Zack was born impervious to a sense of respectability. He marched into the + first pawnbroker’s he came to with as solemn an air of business, and + marched out again with as serene an expression of satisfaction, as if he + had just been drawing a handsome salary, or just been delivering a heavy + deposit into the hands of his banker. + </p> + <p> + Once provided with pecuniary resources, Zack felt himself at liberty to + indulge forthwith in a holiday of his own granting. He opened the festival + by a good long ride in a cab, with a bottle of pale ale and a packet of + cigars inside, to keep the miserable state of the weather from affecting + his spirits. He closed the festival with a visit to the theater, a supper + in mixed company, total self-oblivion, a bed at a tavern, and a blinding + headache the next morning. Thus much, in brief, for the narrative of his + holiday. The proceedings, on his part, which followed that festival, claim + attention next; and are of sufficient importance, in the results to which + they led, to be mentioned in detail. + </p> + <p> + The new morning was the beginning of an important day in Zack’s life. Much + depended on the interviews he was about to seek with his new friend, Mat, + in Kirk Street, and with Mr. Blyth, at the turnpike in the Laburnum Road. + As he paid his bill at the tavern, his conscience was not altogether easy, + when he recalled a certain passage in his letter to his mother, which had + assured her that he was on the high road to reformation already. “I’ll + make a clean breast of it to Blyth, and do exactly what he tells me, when + I meet him at the turnpike.” Fortifying himself with this good resolution, + Zack arrived at Kirk Street, and knocked at the private door of the + tobacconist’s shop. + </p> + <p> + Mat, having seen him from the window, called to him to come up, as soon as + the door was opened. The moment they shook hands, young Thorpe noticed + that his new friend looked altered. His face seemed to have grown downcast + and weary—heavy and vacant, since they had last met. + </p> + <p> + “What’s happened to you?” asked Zack. “You have been somewhere in the + country, haven’t you? What news do you bring back, my dear fellow? Good, I + hope?” + </p> + <p> + “Bad as can be,” returned Mat, gruffly. “Don’t you say another word to me + about it. If you do, we part company again. Talk of something else. + Anything you like; and the sooner the better.” + </p> + <p> + Forbidden to discourse any more concerning his friend’s affairs, Zack + veered about directly, and began to discourse concerning his own. Candor + was one of his few virtues: and he now confided to Mat the entire history + of his tribulations, without a single reserved point at any part of the + narrative, from beginning to end. + </p> + <p> + Without putting a question, or giving an answer, without displaying the + smallest astonishment or the slightest sympathy, Mat stood gravely + listening until Zack had quite done. He then went to the corner of the + room where the round table was; pulled the upturned lid back upon the + pedestal; drew from the breast pocket of his coat a roll of beaver-skin; + slowly undid it; displayed upon the table a goodly collection of bank + notes; and pointing to them, said to young Thorpe,—“Take what you + want.” + </p> + <p> + It was not easy to surprise Zack; but this proceeding so completely + astonished him, that he stared at the bank notes in speechless amazement. + Mat took his pipe from a nail in the wall, filled the bowl with tobacco, + and pointing with the stem towards the table, gruffly repeated,—“Take + what you want.” + </p> + <p> + This time, Zack found words in which to express himself, and used them + pretty freely to praise his new friend’s unexampled generosity, and to + decline taking a single farthing. Mat deliberately lit his pipe, in the + first place, and then bluntly answered in these terms:— + </p> + <p> + “Take my advice, young ‘un, and keep all that talking for somebody else: + it’s gibberish to <i>me.</i> Don’t bother; and help yourself to what you + want. Money’s what you want—though you won’t own it. That’s money. + When it’s gone, I can go back to California and get more. While it lasts, + make it spin. What is there to stare at? I told you I’d be brothers with + you, because of what you done for me the other night. Well: I’m being + brothers with you now. Get your watch out of pawn, and shake a loose leg + at the world. <i>Will</i> you take what you want? And when you have, just + tie up the rest, and chuck ‘em over here.” With those words the man of the + black skull-cap sat down on his bearskins, and sulkily surrounded himself + with clouds of tobacco smoke. + </p> + <p> + Finding it impossible to make Mat understand those delicacies and + refinements of civilized life which induce one gentleman (always excepting + a clergyman at Easter time) to decline accepting money from another + gentleman as a gift—perceiving that he was resolved to receive all + remonstrances as so many declarations of personal enmity and distrust—and + well knowing, moreover, that a little money to go on with would be really + a very acceptable accommodation under existing circumstances, Zack + consented to take two ten-pound notes as a loan. At this reservation Mat + chuckled contemptuously; but young Thorpe enforced it, by tearing a leaf + out of his pocket-book, and writing an acknowledgment for the sum he had + borrowed. Mat roughly and resolutely refused to receive the document; but + Zack tied it up along with the bank-notes, and threw the beaver-skin roll + back to its owner, as requested. + </p> + <p> + “Do you want a bed to sleep in?” asked Mat next. “Say yes or no at once! I + won’t have no more gibberish. I’m not a gentleman, and I can’t shake up + along with them as are. It’s no use trying it on with me, young ‘un. I’m + not much better than a cross between a savage and a Christian. I’m a + battered, lonesome, scalped old vagabond—that’s what I am! But I’m + brothers with you for all that. What’s mine is yours; and if you tell me + it isn’t again, me and you are likely to quarrel. Do you want a bed to + sleep in? Yes? or No?” + </p> + <p> + Yes; Zack certainly wanted a bed; but— + </p> + <p> + “There’s one for you,” remarked Mat, pointing through the folding-doors + into the back room. <i>“I</i> don’t want it. I haven’t slep’ in a bed + these twenty years and more, and I can’t do it now. I take dog’s snoozes + in this corner; and I shall take more dog’s snoozes out of doors in the + day-time, when the sun begins to shine. I haven’t been used to much sleep, + and I don’t want much. Go in and try if the bed’s long enough for you.” + </p> + <p> + Zack tried to expostulate again, but Mat interrupted him more gruffly than + ever. + </p> + <p> + “I suppose you don’t care to sleep next door to such as me,” he said. “You + wouldn’t turn your back on a bit of my blanket, though, if we were out in + the lonesome places together. Never mind! You won’t cotton to me all at + once, I dare say. I cotton to <i>you</i> in spite of that. Damn the bed! + Take or leave it, which you like.” + </p> + <p> + Zack the reckless, who was always ready at five minutes’ notice to make + friends with any living being under the canopy of heaven—Zack the + gregarious, who in his days of roaming the country, before he was fettered + to an office stool, had “cottoned” to every species of rustic vagabond, + from a traveling tinker to a resident poacher—at once declared that + he would sleep in the offered bed that very night, by way of showing + himself worthy of his host’s assistance and regard, if worthy of nothing + else. Greatly relieved by this plain declaration, Mat crossed his legs + luxuriously on the floor, shook his great shoulders with a heartier + chuckle than usual, and made his young friend free of the premises in + these hospitable words:— + </p> + <p> + “There! now the bother’s over at last, I suppose,” cried Mat. “Pull in the + buffalo hide, and bring your legs to an anchor anywhere you like. I’m + smoking. Suppose you smoke too.—Hoi! Bring up a clean pipe,” cried + this rough diamond, in conclusion, turning up a loose corner of the + carpet, and roaring through a crack in the floor into the shop below. + </p> + <p> + The pipe was brought. Zack sat down on the buffalo hide, and began to ask + his queer friend about the life he had been leading in the wilds of North + and South America. From short replies at first, Mat was gradually beguiled + into really relating some of his adventures. Wild, barbarous fragments of + narrative they were; mingling together in one darkly-fantastic record, + fierce triumphs and deadly dangers; miseries of cold, and hunger, and + thirst; glories of hunters’ feasts in mighty forests; gold-findings among + desolate rocks; gallopings for life from the flames of the blazing + prairie; combats with wild beasts and with men wilder still; weeks of + awful solitude in primeval wastes; days and nights of perilous orgies + among drunken savages; visions of meteors in heaven, of hurricanes on + earth, and of icebergs blinding bright, when the sunshine was beautiful + over the Polar seas. + </p> + <p> + Young Thorpe listened in a fever of excitement. Here was the desperate, + dangerous, roving life of which he had dreamed! He longed already to + engage in it: he could have listened to descriptions of it all day long. + But Mat was the last man in the world to err, at any time, on the side of + diffuseness in relating the results of his own experience. And he now + provokingly stopped, on a sudden, in the middle of an adventure among the + wild horses on the Pampas; declaring that he was tired of feeling his own + tongue wag, and had got so sick of talking of himself, that he was + determined not to open his mouth again—except to put a rump-steak + and a pipe in it—for the rest of the day. + </p> + <p> + Finding it impossible to make him alter this resolution, Zack thought of + his engagement with Mr. Blyth, and asked what time it was. Mat, having no + watch, conveyed this inquiry into the shop by the same process of roaring + through the crack in the ceiling which he had already employed to produce + a clean pipe. The answer showed Zack that he had barely time enough left + to be punctual to his appointment in the Laburnum Road. + </p> + <p> + “I must be off to my friend at the turnpike,” he said, rising and putting + on his hat; “but I shall be back again in an hour or two. I say, have you + thought seriously yet about going back to America?” His eyes sparkled + eagerly as he put this question. + </p> + <p> + “There ain’t no need to think about it,” answered Mat. “I mean to go back; + but I haven’t settled what day yet. I’ve got something to do first.” His + face darkened, and he glanced aside at the box which he had brought from + Dibbledean, and which was now covered with one of his bearskins. “Never + mind what it is; I’ve got it to do, and that’s enough. Don’t you go asking + again whether I’ve brought news from the country, or whether I haven’t. + Don’t you ever do that, and we shall sail along together easy enough. I + like you, Zack, when you don’t bother me. If you want to go, what are you + stopping for? Why don’t you clear out at once?” + </p> + <p> + Young Thorpe departed, laughing. It was a fine clear day, and the bright + sky showed signs of a return of the frost. He was in high spirits as he + walked along, thinking of Mat’s wild adventures. What was the happiest + painter’s life, after all, compared to such a life as he had just heard + described? Zack was hardly in the Laburnum Road before he began to doubt + whether he had really made up his mind to be guided entirely by Mr. + Blyth’s advice, and to devote all his energies for the future to the + cultivation of the fine arts. + </p> + <p> + Near the turnpike stood a tall gentleman, making a sketch in a note-book + of some felled timber lying by the road side. This could be no other than + Valentine—and Valentine it really was. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Blyth looked unusually serious, as he shook hands with young Thorpe. + “Don’t begin to justify yourself, Zack,” he said; “I’m not going to blame + you now. Let’s walk on a little. I have some news to tell you from + Baregrove Square.” + </p> + <p> + It appeared from the narrative on which Valentine now entered, that, + immediately on the receipt of Zack’s letter, he had called on Mr. Thorpe, + with the kindly purpose of endeavoring to make peace between father and + son. His mission had entirely failed. Mr. Thorpe had grown more and more + irritable as the interview proceeded; and had accused his visitor of + unwarrantable interference, when Valentine suggested the propriety of + holding out some prospect of forgiveness to the runaway son. + </p> + <p> + This outbreak Mr. Blyth had abstained from noticing, out of consideration + for the agitated state of the speaker’s feelings. But when the Reverend + Mr. Yollop (who had been talking with Mrs. Thorpe up stairs) came into the + room soon afterwards, and joined in the conversation, words had been + spoken which had obliged Valentine to leave the house. The reiteration of + some arguments on the side of mercy which he had already advanced, had + caused Mr. Yollop to hint, with extreme politeness and humility, that Mr. + Blyth’s profession was not of a nature to render him capable of estimating + properly the nature and consequences of moral guilt; while Mr. Thorpe had + referred almost openly to the scandalous reports which had been spread + abroad in certain quarters, years ago, on the subject of Madonna’s + parentage. These insinuations had roused Valentine instantly. He had + denounced them as false in the strongest terms he could employ; and had + left the house, resolved never to hold any communication again either with + Mr. Yollop or Mr. Thorpe. + </p> + <p> + About an hour after his return home, a letter marked “Private” had been + brought to him from Mrs. Thorpe. The writer referred, with many + expressions of sorrow, to what had occurred at the interview of the + morning; and earnestly begged Mr. Blyth to take into consideration the + state of Mr. Thorpe’s health, which was such, that the family doctor (who + had just called) had absolutely forbidden him to excite himself in the + smallest degree by receiving any visitors, or by taking any active steps + towards the recovery of his absent son. If these rules were not strictly + complied with for many days to come, the doctor declared that the attack + of palpitation of the heart, from which Mr. Thorpe had suffered on the + night of Zack’s return, might occur again, and might be strengthened into + a confirmed malady. As it was, if proper care was taken, nothing of an + alarming nature need be apprehended. + </p> + <p> + Having referred to her husband in these terms, Mrs. Thorpe next reverted + to herself. She mentioned the receipt of a letter from Zack; but said it + had done little towards calming her anxiety and alarm. Feeling certain + that Mr. Blyth would be the first friend her son would go to, she now + begged him to use his influence to keep Zack from abandoning himself to + any desperate courses, or from leaving the country, which she greatly + feared he might be tempted to do. She asked this of Mr. Blyth as a favor + to herself, and hinted that if he would only enable her, by granting it, + to tell her husband, without entering into details, that their son was + under safe guidance for the present, half the anxiety from which she was + now suffering would be alleviated. Here the letter ended abruptly; a + request for a speedy answer being added in the postscript. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Zack,” said Valentine, after he had related the result of his visit + to Baregrove Square, and had faithfully reported the contents of Mrs. + Thorpe’s letter, “I shall only add that whatever has happened between your + father and me, makes no difference in the respect I have always felt for + your mother, and in my earnest desire to do her every service in my power. + I tell you fairly—as between friends—that I think you have + been very much to blame; but I have sufficient confidence and faith in + you, to leave everything to be decided by your own sense of honor, and by + the affection which I am sure you feel for your mother.” + </p> + <p> + This appeal, and the narrative which had preceded it, had their due effect + on Zack. His ardor for a wandering life of excitement and peril, began to + cool in the quiet temperature of the good influences that were now at work + within him. “It shan’t be my fault, Blyth, if I don’t deserve your good + opinion,” he said warmly. “I know I’ve behaved badly; and I know, too, + that I have had some severe provocations. Only tell me what you advise, + and I’ll do it—I will, upon my honor, for my mother’s sake.” + </p> + <p> + “That’s right! that’s talking like a man!” cried Valentine, clapping him + on the shoulder. “In the first place, it would be no use your going back + home at once—even if you were willing, which I am afraid you are + not. In your father’s present state your return to Baregrove Square would + do <i>him</i> a great deal of harm, and do <i>you</i> no good. Employed, + however, you must be somehow while you’re away from home; and what you’re + fit for—unless it’s Art—I’m sure I don’t know. You have been + talking a great deal about wanting to be a painter; and now is the time to + test your resolution. If I get you an order to draw in the British Museum, + to fill up your mornings; and if I enter you at some private Academy, to + fill up your evenings (mine at home is not half strict enough for you)—will + you stick to it?” + </p> + <p> + “With all my heart,” replied Zack, resolutely dismissing his dreams of + life in the wilds to the limbo of oblivion. “I ask nothing better, Blyth, + than to stick to you and your plan for the future.” + </p> + <p> + “Bravo!” cried Valentine, in his old gay, hearty manner. “The heaviest + load of anxiety that has been on my shoulders for some time past is off + now. I will write and comfort your mother this very afternoon—” + </p> + <p> + “Give her my love,” interposed Zack. —“Giving her your love; in the + belief, of course, that you are going to prove yourself worthy to send + such a message,” continued Mr. Blyth. “Let us turn, and walk back at once. + The sooner I write, the easier and happier I shall be. By the bye, there’s + another important question starts up now, which your mother seems to have + forgotten in the hurry and agitation of writing her letter. What are you + going to do about money matters? Have you thought about a place to live in + for the present? Can I help you in any way?” + </p> + <p> + These questions admitted of but one candid form of answer, which the + natural frankness of Zack’s character led him to adopt without hesitation. + He immediately related the whole history of his first meeting with Mat, + (formally describing him, on this occasion, as Mr. Mathew Marksman), and + of the visit to Kirk Street which had followed it that very morning. + </p> + <p> + Though in no way remarkable for excess of caution, or for the possession + of any extraordinary fund of worldly wisdom, Mr. Blyth frowned and shook + his head suspiciously, while he listened to the curious narrative now + addressed to him. As soon as it was concluded, he expressed the most + decided disapprobation of the careless readiness with which Zack had + allowed a perfect stranger to become intimate with him—reminding him + that he had met his new acquaintance (of whom, by his own confession, he + knew next to nothing) in a very disreputable place—and concluded by + earnestly recommending him to break off all connection with so dangerous + an associate, at the earliest possible opportunity. + </p> + <p> + Zack, on his side, was not slow in mustering arguments to defend his + conduct. He declared that Mr. Marksman had gone into the Snuggery + innocently, and had been grossly insulted before he became the originator + of the riot there. As to his family affairs and his real name, he might + have good and proper reasons for concealing them; which was the more + probable, as his account of himself in other respects was straightforward + and unreserved enough. He might be a little eccentric, and might have led + an adventurous life; but it was surely not fair to condemn him, on that + account only, as a bad character. In conclusion, Zack cited the loan he + had received, as a proof that the stranger could not be a swindler, at any + rate; and referred to the evident familiarity with localities and customs + in California, which he had shown in conversation that afternoon, as + affording satisfactory proof in support of his own statement that he had + gained his money by gold-digging. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Blyth, however, still held firmly to his original opinion; and, first + offering to advance the money from his own purse, suggested that young + Thorpe should relieve himself of the obligation which he had imprudently + contracted, by paying back what he had borrowed, that very afternoon. + </p> + <p> + “Get out of his debt,” said Valentine, earnestly—“Get out of his + debt, at any rate.” + </p> + <p> + “You don’t know him as well as I do,” replied Zack. “He wouldn’t think + twice about knocking me down, if I showed I distrusted him in that way—and + let me tell you, Blyth, he’s one of the few men alive who could really do + it.” + </p> + <p> + “This is no laughing matter, Zack,” said Valentine, shaking his head + doubtfully. + </p> + <p> + “I never was more serious in my life,” rejoined Zack. “I won’t say I + should be afraid, but I will say I should be ashamed to pay him his money + back on the day when I borrowed it. Why, he even refused to accept my + written acknowledgment of the loan! I only succeeded in forcing it on him + unawares, by slipping it in among his banknotes; and, if he finds it + there, I’ll lay you any wager you like, he tears it up, or throws it into + the fire.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Blyth began to look a little puzzled. The stranger’s behavior about + the money was rather staggering, to say the least of it. + </p> + <p> + “Let me bring him to your picture-show,” pursued Zack. “Judge of him + yourself, before you condemn him. Surely I can’t say fairer than that? May + I bring him to see the pictures? Or will you come back at once with me to + Kirk Street, where he lives?” + </p> + <p> + “I must write to your mother, before I do any thing else; and I have work + in hand besides for to-day and tomorrow,” said Valentine. “All things + considered, you had better bring your friend as you proposed just now. But + remember the distinction I always make between my public studio and my + private house. I consider the glorious mission of Art to apply to + everybody; so I am proud to open my painting room to any honest man who + wants to look at my pictures. But the freedom of my other rooms is only + for my own friends. I can’t have strangers brought up stairs: remember + that.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course! I shouldn’t think of it, my dear fellow. Only you look at old + Rough and Tough, and hear him talk; and I’ll answer for the rest.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Zack! Zack! I wish you were not so dreadfully careless about whom you + get acquainted with. I have often warned you that you will bring yourself + or your friends into trouble some day, when you least expect it. Where are + you going now?” + </p> + <p> + “Back to Kirk Street. This is my nearest way; and I promised Mat—” + </p> + <p> + “Remember what you promised <i>me,</i> and what I am going to promise your + mother—” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll remember everything, Blyth. Good bye and thank you. Only wait till + we meet on Saturday, and you see my new friend; and you will find it all + right.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope I shan’t find it all wrong,” said Mr. Blyth, forebodingly, as he + followed the road to his own house. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER V. FATE WORKS, WITH MR. BLYTH FOR AN INSTRUMENT. + </h2> + <p> + The great day of the year in Valentine’s house was always the day on which + his pictures for the Royal Academy Exhibition were shown in their + completed state to friends and admiring spectators, congregated in his own + painting room. His visitor represented almost every variety of rank in the + social scale; and grew numerous in proportion as they descended from the + higher to the lower degrees. Thus, the aristocracy of race was usually + impersonated, in his studio, by his one noble patron, the Dowager Countess + of Brambledown; the aristocracy of art by two or three Royal Academicians; + and the aristocracy of money by eight or ten highly respectable families, + who came quite as much to look at the Dowager Countess as to look at the + pictures. With these last, the select portion of the company might be said + to terminate; and, after them, flowed in promiscuously the obscure + majority of the visitors—a heterogeneous congregation of worshippers + at the shrine of art, who were some of them of small importance, some of + doubtful importance, some of no importance at all; and who included within + their numbers, not only a sprinkling of Mr. Blyth’s old-established + tradesmen, but also his gardener, his wife’s old nurse, the brother of his + housemaid, and the father of his cook. Some of his respectable friends + deplored, on principle, the “leveling tendencies” which induced him thus + to admit a mixture of all classes into his painting-room, on the days when + he exhibited his pictures. But Valentine was warmly encouraged in taking + this course by no less a person than Lady Brambledown herself, whose + perverse pleasure it was to exhibit herself to society as an + uncompromising Radical, a reviler of the Peerage, a teller of scandalous + Royal anecdotes, and a worshipper of the memory of Oliver Cromwell. + </p> + <p> + On the eventful Saturday which was to display his works to an applauding + public of private friends, Mr. Blyth’s studio, thanks to Madonna’s + industry and attention, looked really in perfect order—as neat and + clean as a room could be. A semicircle of all the available chairs in the + house—drawing-room and bed-room chairs intermingled—ranged + itself symmetrically in front of the pictures. That imaginative classical + landscape, “The Golden Age,” reposed grandly on its own easel; while + “Columbus in Sight of the New World”—the largest canvas Mr. Blyth + had ever worked on, encased in the most gorgeous frame he had ever ordered + for one of his own pictures—was hung on the wall at an easy distance + from the ground, having proved too bulky to be safely accommodated by any + easel in Valentine’s possession. + </p> + <p> + Except Mr. Blyth’s bureau, all the ordinary furniture and general litter + of the room had been cleared out of it, or hidden away behind convenient + draperies in corners. Backwards and forwards over the open space thus + obtained, Mr. Blyth walked expectant, with the elastic skip peculiar to + him; looking ecstatically at his pictures, as he passed and repassed them—now + singing, now whistling; sometimes referring mysteriously to a small + manuscript which he carried in his hand, jauntily tied round with blue + ribbon; sometimes following the lines of the composition in “Columbus,” by + flourishing his right hand before it in the air, with dreamy artistic + grace;—always, turn where he would, instinct from top to toe with an + excitable activity which defied the very idea of rest—and always + hospitably ready to rush to the door and receive the first enthusiastic + visitor with open arms, at a moment’s notice. + </p> + <p> + Above stairs, in the invalid room, the scene was of a different kind. Here + also the arrival of the expected visitors was an event of importance; but + it was awaited in perfect tranquillity and silence. Mrs. Blyth lay in her + usual position on the couch-side of the bed, turning over a small + portfolio of engravings; and Madonna stood at the front window, where she + could command a full view of the garden gate, and of the approach from it + to the house. This was always her place on the days when the pictures were + shown; for, while occupying this position, she was able, by signs, to + indicate the arrival of the different guests to her adopted mother, who + lay too far from the window to see them. On all other days of the year, it + was Mrs. Blyth who devoted herself to Madonna’s service, by interpreting + for her advantage the pleasant conversations that she could not hear. On + this day, it was Madonna who devoted herself to Mrs. Blyth’s service, by + identifying for her amusement the visitors whose approach up the garden + walk she could not safely leave her bed to see. + </p> + <p> + No privilege that the girl enjoyed under Valentine’s roof was more valued + by her than this; for by the exercise of it, she was enabled to make some + slight return in kind for the affectionate attention of which she was the + constant object. Mrs. Blyth always encouraged her to indicate who the + different guests were, as they followed each other, by signs of her own + choosing,—these signs being almost invariably suggested by some + characteristic peculiarity of the person represented, which her quick + observation had detected at a first interview, and which she copied with + the quaintest exactness of imitation. The correctness with which her + memory preserved these signs, and retained, after long intervals, the + recollection of the persons to whom they alluded, was very extraordinary. + The name of any mere acquaintance, who came seldom to the house, she + constantly forgot, having only perhaps had it interpreted to her once or + twice, and not hearing it as others did, whenever it accidentally occurred + in conversation. But if the sign by which she herself had once designated + that acquaintance—no matter how long ago—happened to be + repeated by those about her, it was then always found that the forgotten + person was recalled to her recollection immediately. + </p> + <p> + From eleven till three had been notified in the invitation cards as the + time during which the pictures would be on view. It was now long past ten. + Madonna still stood patiently by the window, going on with a new purse + which she was knitting for Valentine; and looking out attentively now and + then towards the road. Mrs. Blyth, humming a tune to herself, slowly + turned over the engravings in her portfolio, and became so thoroughly + absorbed in looking at them, that she forgot altogether how time was + passing, and was quite astonished to hear Madonna suddenly clap her hands + at the window, as a signal that the first punctual visitor had passed the + garden-gate. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Blyth raised her eyes from the prints directly, and smiled as she saw + the girl puckering up her fresh, rosy face into a childish imitation of + old age, bending her light figure gravely in a succession of formal bows, + and kissing her hand several times with extreme suavity and deliberation. + These signs were meant to indicate Mrs. Blyth’s father, the poor engraver, + whose old-fashioned habit it was to pay homage to all his friends among + the ladies, by saluting them from afar off with tremulous bows and gallant + kissings of the hand. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” thought Mrs. Blyth, nodding, to show that she understood the signs—“Ah! + there’s father. I felt sure he would be the first; and I know exactly what + he will do when he gets in. He will admire the pictures more than anybody, + and have a better opinion to give of them than anybody else has; but + before he can mention a word of it to Valentine, there will be dozens of + people in the painting-room, and then he will get taken suddenly nervous, + and come up here to me.” + </p> + <p> + While Mrs. Blyth was thinking about her father, Madonna signalized the + advent of two more visitors. First, she raised her hand sharply, and began + pulling at an imaginary whisker on her own smooth cheek—then stood + bolt upright, and folded her arms majestically over her bosom. Mrs. Blyth + immediately recognized the originals of these two pantomime + portrait-sketches. The one represented Mr. Hemlock, the small critic of a + small newspaper, who was principally remarkable for never letting his + whiskers alone for five minutes together. The other portrayed Mr. + Bullivant, the aspiring fair-haired sculptor, who wrote poetry, and + studied dignity in his attitudes so unremittingly, that he could not even + stop to look in at a shop-window, without standing before it as if he was + his own statue. + </p> + <p> + In a minute or two more, Mrs. Blyth heard a prodigious grating of wheels, + and trampling of horses, and banging of carriage-steps violently let down. + Madonna immediately took a seat on the nearest chair, rolled the skirt of + her dress up into her lap, tucked both her hands inside it, then drew one + out, and imitated the action of snuff-taking—looking up merrily at + Mrs. Blyth, as much as to say, “You can’t mistake that, I think?”—Impossible! + old Lady Brambledown, with her muff and snuff-box, to the very life. + </p> + <p> + Close on the Dowager Countess followed a visitor of low degree. Madonna—looking + as if she was a little afraid of the boldness of her own imitation—began + chewing an imaginary quid of tobacco; then pretended to pull it suddenly + out of his month, and throw it away behind her. It was all over in a + moment; but it represented to perfection Mangles, the gardener; who, + though an inveterate chewer of tobacco, always threw away his quid + whenever he confronted his betters, as a duty that he owed to his own + respectability. + </p> + <p> + Another carriage. Madonna put on a suppositions pair of spectacles, + pretended to pull them off, rub them bright, and put them on again; then, + retiring a little from the window, spread out her dress into the widest + dimensions that it could be made to assume. The new arrivals thus + portrayed, were the doctor, whose spectacles were never clean enough to + please him; and the doctor’s wife, an emaciated fine lady, who deceitfully + suggested the presence of vanished charms, by wearing a balloon under her + gown—which benevolent rumor pronounced to be only a crinoline + petticoat. + </p> + <p> + Here there was a brief pause in the procession of visitors. Mrs. Blyth + beckoned to Madonna, and began talking on her fingers. + </p> + <p> + “No signs of Zack yet—are there, love?” + </p> + <p> + The girl looked anxiously towards the window, and shook her head. + </p> + <p> + “If he ventures up here, when he does come, we must not be so kind to him + as usual. He has been behaving very badly, and we must see if we can’t + make him ashamed of himself.” + </p> + <p> + Madonna’s color rose directly. She looked amazed, sorry, perplexed, and + incredulous by turns. Zack behaving badly?—she would never believe + it! + </p> + <p> + “I mean to make him ashamed of himself, if he ventures near me!” pursued + Mrs. Blyth. + </p> + <p> + “And I shall try if I can’t console him afterwards,” thought Madonna, + turning away her head for fear her face should betray her. + </p> + <p> + Another ring at the bell! “There he is, perhaps,” continued Mrs. Blyth, + nodding in the direction of the window, as she signed those words. + </p> + <p> + Madonna ran to look: then turned round, and with a comic air of + disappointment, hooked her thumbs in the arm-holes of an imaginary + waistcoat. Only Mr. Gimble, the picture-dealer, who always criticized + works of art with his hands in that position. + </p> + <p> + Just then, a soft knock sounded at Mrs. Blyth’s door; and her father + entered, sniffing with a certain perpetual cold of his which nothing could + cure—bowing, kissing his hand, and frightened up-stairs by the + company, just as his daughter had predicted. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, Lavvie! the Dowager Countess is downstairs, and her ladyship likes + the pictures,” exclaimed the old man, snuffling and smiling infirmly in a + flutter of nervous glee. + </p> + <p> + “Come and sit down by me, father, and see Madonna doing the visitors. It’s + funnier than any play that ever was acted.” + </p> + <p> + “And her ladyship likes the pictures,” repeated the engraver, his poor old + watery eyes sparkling with pleasure as he told his little morsel of good + news over again, and sat down by the bedside of his favorite child. + </p> + <p> + The rings at the bell began to multiply at compound interest. Madonna was + hardly still at the window for a moment, so many were the visitors whose + approach up the garden walk it was now necessary for her to signalize. + Down-stairs, all the vacant seats left in the painting room were filling + rapidly; and the ranks of standers in the back places were getting + two-deep already. + </p> + <p> + There was Lady Brambledown (whose calls at the studio always lasted the + whole morning), sitting in the center, or place of honor, taking snuff + fiercely, talking liberal sentiments in a cracked voice, and apparently + feeling extreme pleasure in making the respectable middle classes stare at + her in reverent amazement. Also, two Royal Academicians—a saturnine + Academician, swaddled in a voluminous cloak; and a benevolent Academician, + with a slovenly umbrella, and a perpetual smile. Also, the doctor and his + wife, who admired the massive frame of “Columbus,” but said not a word + about the picture itself. Also, Mr. Bullivant, the sculptor, and Mr. + Hemlock, the journalist, exchanging solemnly that critical small talk, in + which such words as “sensuous,” “aesthetic,” “objective,” and + “subjective,” occupy prominent places, and out of which no man ever has + succeeded, or ever will succeed, in extricating an idea. Also, Mr. Gimble, + fluently laudatory, with the whole alphabet of Art-Jargon at his fingers’ + ends, and without the slightest comprehension of the subject to embarrass + him in his flow of language. Also, certain respectable families who tried + vainly to understand the pictures, opposed by other respectable families + who never tried at all, but confined themselves exclusively to the Dowager + Countess. Also, the obscure general visitors, who more than made up in + enthusiasm what they wanted in distinction. And, finally, the absolute + democracy, or downright low-life party among the spectators—represented + for the time being by Mr. Blyth’s gardener, and Mr. Blyth’s cook’s father—who, + standing together modestly outside the door, agreed, in awe-struck + whispers, that the “Golden Age” was a Tasty Thing, and “Columbus in sight + of the New World,” a Beautiful Piece. + </p> + <p> + All Valentine’s restlessness before the Visitors arrived was as nothing + compared with his rapturous activity, now that they were fairly assembled. + Not once had he stood still, or ceased talking since the first spectator + entered the room. And not once, probably, would he have permitted either + his legs or his tongue to take the slightest repose until the last guest + had departed from the Studio, but for Lady Brambledown, who accidentally + hit on the only available means of fixing his attention to one thing, and + keeping him comparatively quiet in one place. + </p> + <p> + “I say, Blyth,” cried her ladyship (she never prefixed the word “Mister” + to the names of any of her male friends)—“I say, Blyth, I can’t for + the life of me understand your picture of Columbus. You talked some time + ago about explaining it in detail. When are you going to begin?” + </p> + <p> + “Directly, my dear madam, directly: I was only waiting till the room got + well filled,” answered Valentine, taking up the long wand which he used to + steady his hand while he was painting, and producing the manuscript tied + round with blue ribbon. “The fact is—I don’t know whether you mind + it?—I have just thrown together a few thoughts on art, as a sort of + introduction to—to Columbus, in short. They are written down on this + paper—the thoughts are. Would anybody be kind enough to read them, + while I point out what they mean on the picture? I only ask, because it + seems egotistical to be reading my opinions about my own works.—<i>Will</i> + anybody be kind enough?” repeated Mr. Blyth, walking all along the + semicircle of chairs, and politely offering his manuscript to anybody who + would take it. + </p> + <p> + Not a hand was held out. Bashfulness is frequently infectious; and it + proved to be so on this particular occasion. + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense, Blyth!” exclaimed Lady Brambledown. “Read it yourself. + Egotistical? Stuff! Everybody’s egotistical. I hate modest men; they’re + all rascals. Read it and assert your own importance. You have a better + right to do so than most of your neighbors, for you belong to the + aristocracy of talent—the only aristocracy, in my opinion, that is + worth a straw.” Here her ladyship took a pinch of snuff, and looked at the + middle-class families, as much as to say:—“There! what do you think + of that from a Member of your darling Peerage?” + </p> + <p> + Thus encouraged, Valentine took his station (wand in hand) beneath + “Columbus,” and unrolled the manuscript. + </p> + <p> + “What a very peculiar man Mr. Blyth is!” whispered one of the lady + visitors to an acquaintance behind her. + </p> + <p> + “And what a very unusual mixture of people he seems to have asked!” + rejoined the other, looking towards the doorway, where the democracy + loomed diffident in Sunday clothes. + </p> + <p> + “The pictures which I have the honor to exhibit,” began Valentine from the + manuscript, “have been painted on a principle—” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon, Blyth,” interrupted Lady Brambledown, whose sharp ears + had caught the remark made on Valentine and his “mixture of people,” and + whose liberal principles were thereby instantly stimulated into publicly + asserting themselves. “I beg your pardon; but where’s my old ally, the + gardener, who was here last time?—Out at the door is he? What does + he mean by not coming in? Here, gardener! come behind my chair.” + </p> + <p> + The gardener approached, internally writhing under the honor of public + notice, and covered with confusion in consequence of the noise his boots + made on the floor. + </p> + <p> + “How do you do? and how are your family? What did you stop out at the door + for? You’re one of Mr. Blyth’s guests, and have as much right inside as + any of the rest of us. Stand there, and listen, and look about you, and + inform your mind. This is an age of progress, gardener; your class is + coming uppermost, and time it did too. Go on, Blyth.” And again the + Dowager Countess took a pinch of snuff, looking contemptuously at the lady + who had spoken of the “mixture of people.” + </p> + <p> + “I take the liberty,” continued Valentine, resuming the manuscript, “of + dividing all art into two great classes, the landscape subjects, and the + figure subjects; and I venture to describe these classes, in their highest + development, under the respective titles of Art Pastoral and Art Mystic. + The ‘Golden Age’ is an attempt to exemplify Art Pastoral. ‘Columbus in + Sight of the New World’ is an effort to express myself in Art Mystic. In + ‘The Golden Age’ “—(everybody looked at Columbus immediately)—“In + the ‘Golden Age,’” continued Mr. Blyth, waving his wand persuasively + towards the right picture, “you have, in the foreground-bushes, the + middle-distance trees, the horizon mountains, and the superincumbent sky, + what I would fain hope is a tolerably faithful transcript of mere nature. + But in the group of buildings to the right” (here the wand touched the + architectural city, with its acres of steps and forests of pillars), “in + the dancing nymphs, and the musing philosopher” (Mr. Blyth rapped the + philosopher familiarly on the head with the padded end of his wand), “you + have the Ideal—the elevating poetical view of ordinary objects, like + cities, happy female peasants, and thoughtful spectators. Thus nature is + exalted; and thus Art Pastoral—no!—thus Art Pastoral exalts—no! + I beg your pardon—thus Art Pastoral and Nature exalt each other, and—I + beg your pardon again!—in short, exalt each other—” + </p> + <p> + Here Valentine broke down at the end of a paragraph; and the gardener made + an abortive effort to get back to the doorway. + </p> + <p> + “Capital, Blyth!” cried Lady Brambledown. “Liberal, comprehensive, + progressive, profound. Gardener, don’t fidget!” + </p> + <p> + “The true philosophy of art—the true philosophy of art, my lady,” + added Mr. Gimble, the picture-dealer. + </p> + <p> + “Crude?” said Mr. Hemlock, the critic, appealing confidentially to Mr. + Bullivant, the sculptor. + </p> + <p> + “What?” inquired that gentleman. + </p> + <p> + “Blyth’s principles of criticism,” answered Mr. Hemlock. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes! extremely so,” said Mr. Bullivant. + </p> + <p> + “Having glanced at Art Pastoral, as attempted in the ‘Golden Age,’” + pursued Valentine, turning over a leaf, “I will now, with your permission, + proceed to Art Mystic and ‘Columbus.’ Art Mystic, I would briefly endeavor + to define, as aiming at the illustration of fact on the highest + imaginative principles. It takes a scene, for instance, from history, and + represents that scene as exactly and naturally as possible. And here the + ordinary thinker might be apt to say, Art Mystic has done enough.” (“So it + has,” muttered Mr. Hemlock.) “On the contrary, Art Mystic has only begun. + Besides the representation of the scene itself, the spirit of the age”—(“Ah! + quite right,” said Lady Brambledown; “yes, yes, the spirit of the age.”)—“the + spirit of the age which produced that scene, must also be indicated, + mystically, by the introduction of those angelic or infernal winged forms—those + cherubs and airy female geniuses—those demons and dragons of + darkness—which so many illustrious painters have long since taught + us to recognize as impersonating to the eye the good and evil influences, + Virtue and Vice, Glory and Shame, Success and Failure, Past and Future, + Heaven and Earth—all on the same canvas.” Here Mr. Blyth stopped + again: this passage had cost him some trouble, and he was proud of having + got smoothly to the end of it. + </p> + <p> + “Glorious!” cried enthusiastic Mr. Gimble. + </p> + <p> + “Turgid,” muttered critical Mr. Hemlock. + </p> + <p> + “Very,” assented compliant Mr. Bullivant. + </p> + <p> + “Go on—get to the picture—don’t stop so often,” said Lady + Brambledown. “Bless my soul, how the man does fidget!” This was not + directed at Valentine (who, however, richly deserved it), but at the + unhappy gardener, who had made a second attempt to escape to the + sheltering obscurity of the doorway, and had been betrayed by his boots. + </p> + <p> + “To exemplify what has just been remarked, by the picture at my side,” + proceeded Mr. Blyth. “The moment sought to be represented is sunrise on + the 12th of October, 1492, when the great Columbus first saw land clearly + at the end of his voyage. Observe, now, in the upper portions of the + composition, how the spirit of the age is mystically developed before the + spectator. Of the two winged female figures hovering in the morning + clouds, immediately over Columbus and his ship, the first is the Spirit of + Discovery, holding the orb of the world in her left hand, and pointing + with a laurel crown (typical of Columbus’s fame) towards the + newly-discovered Continent. The other figure symbolizes the Spirit of + Royal Patronage, impersonated by Queen Isabella, Columbus’s warm friend + and patron, who offered her jewels to pay his expenses, and who, + throughout his perilous voyage, was with him in spirit, as here + represented. The tawny figure with feathered head, floating hair, and + wildly-extended pinions, soaring upward from the western horizon, + represents the Genius of America advancing to meet her great discoverer; + while the shadowy countenances, looming dimly through the morning mist + behind her, are portrait-types of Washington and Franklin, who would never + have flourished in America, if that continent had not been discovered, and + who are here, therefore, associated prophetically with the first voyagers + from the Old World to the New.” + </p> + <p> + Pausing once more, Mr. Blyth used his explanatory wand freely on the + Spirit of Discovery, the Spirit of Royal Patronage, and the Genius of + America—not forgetting an indicative knock a-piece for the embryo + physiognomies of Washington and Franklin. Everybody’s eyes followed the + progress of the wand vacantly; but nobody spoke, except Mr. Hemlock, who + frowned and whispered—“Bosh!” to Mr. Bullivant; who smiled, and + whispered—“Quite so,” to Mr. Hemlock. + </p> + <p> + “Let me now ask your attention,” resumed Valentine, “to the same mystic + style of treatment, as carried from the sky into the sea. Writhing + defeated behind Columbus’s ship, in the depths of the transparent + Atlantic, you have shadowy types of the difficulties and enemies that the + dauntless navigator had to contend with. Crushed headlong into the waters, + sinks first the Spirit of Superstition, delineated by monastic robes—the + council of monks having set itself against Columbus from the very first. + Behind the Spirit of Superstition, and impersonated by a fillet of purple + grapes around her head, descends the Genius of Portugal—the + Portuguese having repulsed Columbus, and having treacherously sent out + frigates to stop his discovery, by taking him prisoner. The scaly forms + entwined around these two, represent Envy, Hatred, Malice, Ignorance, and + Crime generally; and thus the mystic element is, so to speak, led through + the sea out of the picture.” + </p> + <p> + (Another pause. Nobody said a word, but everybody was relieved by the + final departure of the mystic element.) + </p> + <p> + “All that now remains to be noticed,” continued Mr. Blyth, “is the central + portion of the composition, which is occupied by Columbus and his ships, + and which represents the scene as it may actually be supposed to have + occurred. Here we get to Reality, and to that sort of correctly-imitative + art which is simple enough to explain itself. As a proof of this, let me + point attention to the rig of the ships, the actions of the sailors, and, + more than all, to Columbus himself. Weeks of the most laborious + consultation of authorities of which the artist is capable, have been + expended over the impersonation of that one figure,—expended, I + would say, in obtaining that faithful representation of individual + character, which it is my earnest desire to combine with the higher or + mystic element. One instance of this fidelity to Nature I may perhaps be + permitted to point out in the person of Columbus, in conclusion. Pray + observe him, standing rapturously on the high stern of his vessel—and + oblige me, at the same time, by minutely inspecting his outstretched arms. + First, however, let me remind you that this great man went to sea at the + age of fourteen, and cast himself freely into all the hardships of + nautical life; next, let me beg you to enter into my train of thought, and + consider these hardships as naturally comprising, among other things, + industrious haulings at ropes and manful tuggings at long oars; and, + finally, let me now direct your attention to the manner in which the + muscular system of the famous navigator is developed about the arms in + anatomical harmony with this idea. Follow the wand closely, and observe, + bursting, as it were, through his sleeves, the characteristic vigor of + Columbus’s <i>Biceps Flexor Cubiti</i>—” + </p> + <p> + “Mercy on us! what’s that?” cried Lady Brambledown. “Anything improper?” + </p> + <p> + “The <i>Biceps Flexor Cubiti,</i> your ladyship,” began the Doctor, + delighted to pour professional information into the mind of a Dowager + Countess, “may be literally interpreted as the Two-Headed Bender of the + Elbow, and is a muscle situated on, what we term, the Os—” + </p> + <p> + “Follow the wand, my dear madam, pray follow the wand! This is the <i>Biceps,”</i> + interrupted Valentine, tapping till the canvas quivered again on the upper + part of Columbus’s arms, which obtruded their muscular condition through a + pair of tight-fitting chamoy leather sleeves. “The <i>Biceps,</i> Lady + Brambledown, is a tremendously strong muscle—” + </p> + <p> + “Which arises in the human body, your Ladyship,” interposed the Doctor, + “by two heads—” + </p> + <p> + “Which is used,” continued Valentine, cutting him short—“I beg your + pardon, Doctor, but this is important—which is used—” + </p> + <p> + “I beg yours,” rejoined the Doctor, testily. “The origin of the muscle, or + place where it arises, is the first thing to be described. The use comes + afterwards. It is an axiom of anatomical science—” + </p> + <p> + “But, my dear sir!” cried Valentine— + </p> + <p> + “No,” said the Doctor, peremptorily, “you must really excuse me. This is a + professional point. If I allow erroneous explanations of the muscular + system to pass unchecked in my presence—” + </p> + <p> + “I don’t want to make any!” cried Mr. Blyth, gesticulating violently in + the direction of Columbus. “I only want to—” + </p> + <p> + “To describe the use of a muscle before you describe the place of its + origin in the human body,” persisted the Doctor. “No, my dear sir! I can’t + sanction it. No, indeed! I really <i>can</i> NOT sanction it!” + </p> + <p> + “Will you let me say two words?” asked Valentine. + </p> + <p> + “Two hundred thousand, my good sir, on any other subject,” assented the + Doctor, with a sarcastic smile; “but on <i>this</i> subject—” + </p> + <p> + “On art?” shouted Mr. Blyth, with a tap on Columbus, which struck a sound + from the canvas like a thump on a muffled drum. “On art, Doctor? I only + want to say that, as Columbus’s early life must have exercised him + considerably in hauling ropes and pulling oars, I have shown the large + development of his <i>Biceps</i> muscle (which is principally used in + those actions) through his sleeves, as a good characteristic point to + insist on in his physical formation.—That’s all! As to the origin—” + </p> + <p> + “The origin of the <i>Biceps Flexor Cubiti,</i> your Ladyship,” resumed + the pertinacious Doctor; “is by two heads. The first begins, if I may so + express myself, <i>tendinous,</i> from the glenoid cavity of the scapula—” + </p> + <p> + “That man is a pedantic jackass,” whispered Mr. Hemlock to his friend. + </p> + <p> + “And yet he hasn’t a bad head for a bust!” rejoined Mr. Bullivant. + </p> + <p> + “Pray, Mr. Blyth,” pleaded the polite and ever-admiring Mr. Gimble—“pray + let me beg you, in the name of the company to proceed with your most + interesting and suggestive explanations and views on art!” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed, Mr. Gimble,” said Valentine, a little crest-fallen under the + anatomical castigation inflicted on him by the Doctor, “I am very much + delighted and gratified by your approval; but I have nothing more to read. + I thought that point about Columbus a good point to leave off with, and + considered that I might safely allow the rest of the picture to explain + itself to the intelligent spectator.” + </p> + <p> + Hearing this, some of the spectators, evidently distrusting their own + intelligence, rose to take leave—new visitors making their + appearance, however, to fill the vacant chairs and receive Mr. Blyth’s + hearty welcome. Meanwhile, through all the bustle of departing and + arriving friends, and through all the fast-strengthening hum of general + talk, the voice of the unyielding doctor still murmured solemnly of + “capsular ligaments,” “adjacent tendons,” and “corracoid processes” to + Lady Brambledown, who listened to him with satirical curiosity, as a + species of polite medical buffoon whom it rather amused her to become + acquainted with. + </p> + <p> + Among the next applicants for admission at the painting-room door were two + whom Valentine had expected to see at a much earlier period of the day—Mr. + Matthew Marksman and Zack. + </p> + <p> + “How late you are!” he said, as he shook hands with young Thorpe. + </p> + <p> + “I wish I could have come earlier, my dear fellow,” answered Zack, rather + importantly; “but I had some business to do” (he had been recovering his + watch from the pawnbroker); “and my friend here had some business to do + also” (Mr. Marksman had been toasting red herrings for an early dinner); + “and so somehow we couldn’t get here before. Mat, let me introduce you. + This is my old friend, Mr. Blyth, whom I told you of.” + </p> + <p> + Valentine had barely time to take the hand of the new guest before his + attention was claimed by fresh visitors. Young Thorpe did the honors of + the painting-room in the artist’s absence. “Lots of people, as I told you. + My friend’s a great genius,” whispered Zack, wondering, as he spoke, + whether the scene of civilized life now displayed before Mr. Marksman + would at all tend to upset his barbarian self-possession. + </p> + <p> + No: not in the least. There stood Mat, just as grave, cool, and quietly + observant of things about him as ever. Neither the pictures, nor the + company, nor the staring of many eyes that wondered at his black skull-cap + and scarred swarthy face, were capable of disturbing the Olympian serenity + of this Jupiter of the back-woods. + </p> + <p> + “There!” cried Zack, pointing triumphantly across the room to “Columbus.” + “Cudgel your brains, old boy, and guess what that is a picture of, without + coming to me to help you.” + </p> + <p> + Mat attentively surveyed the figure of Columbus, the rig of his ship, and + the wings of the typical female spirits, hovering overhead in the morning + clouds—thought a little—then gravely and deliberately + answered:— + </p> + <p> + “Peter Wilkins taking a voyage along with his flying wives.” + </p> + <p> + Zack pulled out his handkerchief, and stifled his laughter as well as he + could, out of consideration for Mat, who, however, took not the smallest + notice of him, but added, still staring intently at the picture. + </p> + <p> + “Peter Wilkins was the only book I had, when I was a lad aboard ship. I + used to read it over and over again, at odds and ends of spare time, till + I pretty nigh got it by heart. That was many a year ago; and a good lot of + what I knowed then I don’t know now. But, mind ye, it’s my belief that + Peter Wilkins was something of a sailor.” + </p> + <p> + “Well?” whispered Zack, humoring him, “suppose he was, what of that?” + </p> + <p> + “Do you think a man as was anything of a sailor would ever be fool enough + to put to sea in such a craft as that?” asked Mr. Marksman, pointing + scornfully to Columbus’s ship. + </p> + <p> + “Hush! old Rough and Tough: the picture hasn’t anything to do with Peter + Wilkins,” said Zack. “Keep quiet, and wait here a minute for me. There are + some friends of mine at the other end of the room that I must go and speak + to. And, I say, if Blyth comes up to you and asks you about the picture, + say it’s Columbus, and remarkably like him.” + </p> + <p> + Left by himself, Mat looked about for better standing-room than he then + happened to occupy; and seeing a vacant space left between the door-post + and Mr. Blyth’s bureau, retreated to it. Putting his hands in his pockets, + he leaned comfortably against the wall, and began to examine the room and + everything in it at his leisure. It was not long, however, before he was + disturbed. One of his neighbors, seeing that his back was against a large + paper sketch nailed on the wall behind him, told him bluntly that he was + doing mischief there, and made him change his position. He moved + accordingly to the door-post; but even here he was not left in repose. A + fresh relay of visitors arrived, and obliged him to make way for them to + pass into the room—which he did by politely rolling himself round + the door-post into the passage. + </p> + <p> + As he disappeared in this way, Mr. Blyth bustled up to the place where Mat + had been standing, and received his guests there, with great cordiality, + but also with some appearance of flurry and perplexity of mind. The fact + was, that Lady Brambledown had just remembered that she had not examined + Valentine’s works yet, through one of those artistic tubes which + effectively concentrate the rays of light on a picture, when applied to + the eye. Knowing, by former experience, that the studio was furnished with + one of these little instruments, her ladyship now intimated her ardent + desire to use it instantly on “Columbus.” Valentine promised to get it, + with his usual ready politeness; but he had not the slightest idea where + it actually was, for all that. Among the litter of small things that had + been cleared out of the way, when the painting-room was put in order, + there were several which he vaguely remembered having huddled together for + safety in the bottom of his bureau. The tube might possibly have been + among them; so in this place he determined to look for it—being + quite ignorant, if the search turned out unsuccessful, where he ought to + look next. + </p> + <p> + After begging the new visitors to walk in, he opened the bureau, which was + large and old-fashioned, with a little bright key hanging by a chain that + he unhooked from his watch-guard; and began searching inside amid infinite + confusion—all his attention concentrated in the effort to discover + the lost tube. It was not to be found in the bottom of the bureau. He next + looked, after a little preliminary hesitation, into a long narrow drawer + opening beneath some pigeon-hole recesses at the back. + </p> + <p> + The tube was not there, either; and he shut the drawer to again, carefully + and gently—for inside it was the Hair Bracelet that had belonged to + Madonna’s mother, lying on the white handkerchief, which had also been + taken from the dead woman’s pocket. Just as he closed the drawer, he heard + footsteps at his right hand, and turned in that direction rather + suspiciously—locking down the lid of the bureau as he looked round. + It was only the civil Mr. Gimble, wanting to know what Mr. Blyth was + searching for, and whether he could help him. Valentine mentioned the loss + of the tube; and Mr. Gimble immediately volunteered to make one of + pasteboard. “Ten thousand thanks,” said Mr. Blyth, hooking the key to his + watch-guard again, as he returned to Lady Brambledown with his friend. + “Ten thousand thanks; but the worst of it is, I don’t know where to find + the pasteboard.” + </p> + <p> + If, instead of turning to the right hand to speak to Mr. Gimble, Valentine + had turned to the left, he would have seen that, just as he opened the + bureau and began to search in it, Mr. Marksman finding the way into the + painting-room clear once more, had rolled himself quietly round the + door-post again; and had then, just as quietly, bent forward a little, so + as to look sideways into the bureau with those observant eyes of his which + nothing could escape, and which had been trained by his old Indian + experience to be always unscrupulously at work, watching something. Little + did Mr. Blyth think, as he walked away, talking with Mr. Gimble, and + carefully hooking his key on to its swivel again, that Zack’s strange + friend had seen as much of the inside of the bureau as he had seen of it + himself. + </p> + <p> + “He shut up his big box uncommon sharp, when that smilin’ little chap come + near him,” thought Mat. “And yet there didn’t seem nothing in it that + strangers mightn’t see. There wasn’t no money there—at least none + that <i>I</i> set eyes on. Well! it’s not my business. Let’s have another + look at the picter.” + </p> + <p> + In the affairs of art, as in other matters, important discoveries are + sometimes made, and great events occasionally accomplished, by very + ignoble agencies. Mat’s deplorable ignorance of Painting in general, and + grossly illiterate misunderstanding of the subject represented by Columbus + in particular, seemed to mark him out as the last man in the world who + could possibly be associated with Art Mystic in the character of guardian + genius. Yet such was the proud position which he was now selected by Fate + to occupy. In plain words, Mr. Blyth’s greatest historical work had been + for some little time in imminent danger of destruction by falling; and + Mat’s “look at the picter,” was the all-important look which enabled him + to be the first person in the room who perceived that it was in peril. + </p> + <p> + The eye with which Mr. Marksman now regarded the picture was certainly the + eye of a barbarian; but the eye with which he afterwards examined the + supports by which it was suspended, was the eye of a sailor, and of a good + practical carpenter to boot. He saw directly, that one of the two iron + clamps to which the frame-lines of “Columbus” were attached, had been + carelessly driven into a part of the wall that was not strong enough to + hold it against the downward stress of the heavy frame. Little warning + driblets of loosened plaster had been trickling down rapidly behind the + canvas; but nobody heard them fall in the general buzz of talking; and + nobody noticed the thin, fine crack above the iron clamp, which was now + lengthening stealthily minute by minute. + </p> + <p> + “Just let me by, will you?” said Mat quietly to some of his neighbors. “I + want to stop those flying women and the man in the crank ship from coming + down by the long run.” + </p> + <p> + Dozens of alarmed ladies and gentlemen started up from their chairs. Mat + pushed through them unceremoniously; and was indebted to his want of + politeness for being in time to save the picture. With a grating crack, + and an accompanying descent of a perfect slab of plaster, the loose clamp + came clean out of the wall, just as Mat seized the unsupported end and + side of the frame in his sturdy hands, and so prevented the picture from + taking the fatal swing downwards, which would have infallibly torn it from + the remaining fastening, and precipitated it on the chairs beneath. + </p> + <p> + A prodigious confusion and clamoring of tongues ensued; Mr. Blyth being + louder, wilder, and more utterly useless in the present emergency than any + of his neighbors. Mat, cool as ever, kept his hold of the picture; and, + taking no notice of the confused advice and cumbersome help offered to + him, called to Zack to fetch a ladder, or, failing that, to “get a hoist” + on some chairs, and cut the rope from the clamp that remained firm. Wooden + steps, as young Thorpe knew, were usually kept in the painting-room. Where + had they been removed to now? Mr. Blyth’s memory was lost altogether in + his excitement. Zack made a speculative dash at the flowing draperies + which concealed the lumber in one corner, and dragged out the steps in + triumph. + </p> + <p> + “All right; take your time, young ‘un: there’s a knife in my left-hand + breeches’ pocket,” said Mat. “Now then, cut away at that bit of + rope’s-end, and hold on tight at top, while I lower away at bottom. + Steady! Take it easy, and—there you are!” With which words, the + guardian genius left Art-Mystic resting safely on the floor, and began to + shake his coattails free of the plaster that had dropped on them. + </p> + <p> + “My dear sir! you have saved the finest picture I ever painted,” cried + Valentine, warmly seizing him by both hands. “I can’t find words to + express my gratitude and admiration—” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t worry yourself about that,” answered Mat; “I don’t suppose I should + understand you if you <i>could</i> find ‘em. If you want the picter put up + again, I’ll do it. And if you want the carpenter’s muddle head punched, + who put it up before, I shouldn’t much mind doing that either,” added Mat, + looking at the hole from which the clamp had been torn with an expression + of the profoundest workmanlike disgust. + </p> + <p> + A new commotion in the room—near the door this time—prevented + Mr. Blyth from giving an immediate answer to the two friendly propositions + just submitted to him. + </p> + <p> + At the first alarm of danger, all the ladies—headed by the Dowager + Countess, in whom the instinct of self-preservation was largely developed—had + got as far away as they could from the falling picture, before they + ventured to look round at the process by which it was at last safely + landed on the floor. Just as this had been accomplished, Lady Brambledown—who + stood nearest to the doorway—caught sight of Madonna in the passage + that led to it. Mrs. Blyth had heard the noise and confusion downstairs, + and finding that her bell was not answered by the servants, and that it + was next to impossible to overcome her father’s nervous horror of + confronting the company alone, had sent Madonna down-stairs with him, to + assist in finding out what had happened in the studio. + </p> + <p> + While descending the stairs with her companion, the girl had anticipated + that they might easily discover whether anything was amiss, without going + further than the passage, by merely peeping through the studio door. But + all chance of escaping the ordeal of the painting-room was lost the moment + Lady Brambledown set eyes on her. The Dowager Countess was one of + Madonna’s warmest admirers; and now expressed that admiration by pouncing + on her with immense affection and enthusiasm from the painting-room + door-way. Other people, to whom the deaf and dumb girl was a much more + interesting sight than “Columbus,” or the “Golden Age,” crowded round her; + all trying together, with great amiability and small intelligence, to + explain what had happened by signs which no human being could possibly + understand. Fortunately for Madonna, Zack (who ever since he had cut the + picture down had been assailed by an incessant fire of questions about his + strange friend, from dozens of inquisitive gentlemen) happened to look + towards her, over the ladies’ heads, and came directly to explain the + danger from which “Columbus” had escaped. She tried hard to get away, and + bear the intelligence to Mrs. Blyth; but Lady Brambledown, feeling amiably + unwilling to resign her too soon, pitched on the poor engraver standing + tremulous in the passage, as being quite clever enough to carry a message + up-stairs, and sent him off to take the latest news from the studio to his + daughter immediately. + </p> + <p> + Thus it was that when Mr. Blyth left Zack’s friend to see what was going + on near the door, he found Madonna in the painting-room, surrounded by + sympathizing and admiring ladies. The first words of explanation by which + Lady Brambledown answered his mute look of inquiry, reminded him of the + anxiety and alarm that his wife must have suffered; and he ran up-stairs + directly, promising to be back again in a minute or two. + </p> + <p> + Mat carelessly followed Valentine to the group at the doorway—carelessly + looked over some ladies’ bonnets—and saw Madonna, offering her slate + to the Dowager Countess at that moment. + </p> + <p> + The sweet feminine gentleness and youthful softness of the girl’s face, + looked inexpressibly lovely, as she now stood shy and confused under the + eager eyes that were all gazing on her. Her dress, too, had never more + powerfully aided the natural attractions of her face and figure by its own + loveable charms of simplicity and modesty, than now, when the plain grey + merino gown, and neat little black silk apron which she always wore, were + contrasted with the fashionable frippery of fine colors shining all around + her. Was the rough Mr. Marksman himself lured at first sight into + acknowledging her influence? If he was, his face and manner showed it very + strangely. + </p> + <p> + Almost at the instant when his eyes fell on her, that clay-cold change + which had altered the color of his swarthy cheeks in the hosier’s shop at + Dibbledean, passed over them again. The first amazed look that he cast on + her, slowly darkened, while his eyes rested on her face, into a fixed, + heavy, vacant stare of superstitious awe. He never moved, he hardly seemed + to breathe, until the head of a person before him accidentally intercepted + his view. Then he stepped back a few paces; looked about him bewildered, + as if he had forgotten where he was; and turned quickly towards the door, + as if resolved to leave the room immediately. + </p> + <p> + But there was some inexplicable influence at work in his heart that drew + him back, in spite of his own will. He retraced his steps to the group + round Madonna—looked at her once more—and, from that moment, + never lost sight of her till she went up stairs again. Whichever way her + face turned, he followed the direction, outside the circle, so as to be + always in front of it. When Valentine re-appeared in the studio, and + Madonna besought him by a look, to set her free from general admiration, + and send her back to Mrs. Blyth, Mat was watching her over the painter’s + shoulder. And when young Thorpe, who had devoted himself to helping her in + communicating with the visitors, nodded to her as she left the room, his + friend from the backwoods was close behind him. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VI. THE FINDING OF THE CLUE. + </h2> + <p> + Mr. Blyth’s visitors, now that their common center of attraction had + disappeared, either dispersed again in the painting-room, or approached + the door to take their departure. Zack, turning round sharply after + Madonna had left the studio, encountered his queer companion, who had not + stirred an inch while other people were all moving about him. + </p> + <p> + “In the name of wonder, what has come to you now? Are you ill? Have you + hurt yourself with that picture?” asked Zack, startled by the + incomprehensible change which he beheld in his friend’s face and manner. + </p> + <p> + “Come out,” said Mat. Young Thorpe looked at him in amazement; even the + sound of his voice had altered! + </p> + <p> + “What’s wrong?” asked Zack. No answer. They went quickly along the passage + and down to the garden gate, in silence. As soon as they had got into one + of the lonely bye-roads of the new suburb, Mat stopped short; and, turning + full on his companion, said: “Who is she?” The sudden eagerness with which + he spoke, so strangely at variance with his usual deliberation of tone and + manner, made those three common words almost startling to hear. + </p> + <p> + <i>“She?</i> Who do you mean?” inquired young Thorpe. + </p> + <p> + “I mean that young woman they were all staring at.” + </p> + <p> + For a moment, Zack contemplated the anxiety visible in his friend’s face, + with an expression of blank astonishment; then burst into one of his + loudest, heartiest, and longest fits of laughter. “Oh, by Jove, I wouldn’t + have missed this for fifty pounds. Here’s old Rough and Tough smitten with + the tender passion, like all the rest of us! Blush, you brazen old beggar, + blush! You’ve fallen in love with Madonna at first sight!” + </p> + <p> + “Damn your laughing! Tell me who she is.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell you who she is? That’s exactly what I can’t do.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not? What do you mean? Does she belong to painter-man?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, fie, Mat! You mustn’t talk of a young lady <i>belonging</i> to + anybody, as if she was a piece of furniture, or money in the Three per + Cents, or something of that sort. Confound it man, don’t shake me in that + way! You’ll pull my arm off. Let me have my laugh, and I’ll tell you every + thing.” + </p> + <p> + “Tell it then; and be quick about it.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, first of all, she is not Blyth’s daughter—though some + scandal-mongering people have said she is—” + </p> + <p> + “Nor yet his wife?” + </p> + <p> + “Nor yet his wife. What a question! He adopted her, as they call it, years + ago, when she was a child. But who she is, or where he picked her up, or + what is her name, Blyth never <i>has</i> told anybody, and never <i>will.</i> + She’s the dearest, kindest, prettiest little soul that ever lived; and + that’s all I know about her. It’s a short story, old boy; but surprisingly + romantic—isn’t it?” + </p> + <p> + Mat did not immediately answer. He paid the most breathless attention to + the few words of information which Zack had given him—repeated them + over again to himself—reflected for a moment—then said— + </p> + <p> + “Why won’t the painter-man tell any body who she is?” + </p> + <p> + “How should I know? It’s a whim of his. And, I’ll tell you what, here’s a + piece of serious advice for you:—If you want to go there again, and + make her acquaintance, don’t you ask Blyth who she is, or let him fancy + you want to know. He’s touchy on that point—I can’t say why; but he + is. Every man has a raw place about him somewhere: that’s Blyth’s raw + place, and if you hit him on it, you won’t get inside of his house again + in a hurry, I can tell you.” + </p> + <p> + Still, Mat’s attention fastened greedily on every word—still, his + eyes fixed eagerly on his informant’s face—still, he repeated to + himself what Zack was telling him. + </p> + <p> + “By the bye, I suppose you saw the poor dear little soul is deaf and + dumb,” young Thorpe continued. “She’s been so from a child. Some accident; + a fall, I believe. But it don’t affect her spirits a bit. She’s as happy + as the day is long—that’s one comfort.” + </p> + <p> + “Deaf and dumb! So like her, it was a’most as awful as seeing the dead + come to life again. She had Mary’s turn with her head; Mary’s—poor + creature! poor creature!” He whispered those words to himself, under his + breath, his face turned aside, his eyes wandering over the ground at his + feet, with a faint, troubled, vacantly anxious expression. + </p> + <p> + “Come! come! don’t be getting into the dolefuls already,” cried Zack, + administering an exhilarating thump on the back to his friend. “Cheer up! + We’re all in love with her; you’re rowing in the same boat with Bullivant, + and Gimble, and me, and lots more; and you’ll get used to it in time, like + the rest of us. I’ll act the generous rival with you, brother Mat! You + shall have all the benefit of my advice gratis; and shall lay siege to our + little beauty in regular form. I don’t think your own experience among the + wild Indians will help you much, over here. How do you mean to make love + to her? Did you ever make love to a Squaw?” + </p> + <p> + “She isn’t his wife; and she isn’t his daughter; he won’t say where he + picked her up, or who she is.” Repeating these words to himself in a + quick, quiet whisper, Mat did not appear to be listening to a single word + that young Thorpe said. His mind was running now on one of the answers + that he had wrested from Joanna Grice, at Dibbledean—the answer + which had informed him that Mary’s child had been born alive! + </p> + <p> + “Wake up, Mat! You shall have your fair chance with the lady, along with + the rest of us; and I’ll undertake to qualify you on the spot for + civilized courtship,” continued Zack, pitilessly carrying on his joke. “In + the first place, always remember that you mustn’t go beyond admiration at + a respectful distance, to begin with. At the second interview, you may + make amorous faces at close quarters—what you call looking + unutterable things, you know. At the third, you may get bold, and try her + with a little present. Lots of people have done that, before you. Gimble + tried it, and Bullivant wanted to; but Blyth wouldn’t let him; and I mean + to give her—oh, by the bye, I have another important caution for + you.” Here he indulged himself in a fresh burst of laughter, excited by + the remembrance of his interview with Mrs. Peckover, in Mr. Blyth’s hall. + “Remember that the whole round of presents is open for you to choose from, + except one; and that one is a Hair Bracelet.” + </p> + <p> + Zack’s laughter came to an abrupt termination. Mat had raised his head + suddenly, and was now staring him full in the face again, with a bright, + searching look—an expression in which suspicious amazement and + doubting curiosity were very strangely mingled together. + </p> + <p> + “You’re not angry with me for cracking a few respectable old jokes?” said + Zack. “Have I said anything?—Stop! yes, I have, though I didn’t mean + it. You looked up at me in that savage manner, when I warned you not to + give her a Hair Bracelet. Surely you don’t think me brute enough to make + fun of your not having any hair on your own head to give anybody? Surely + you have a better opinion of me than that? I give you my word of honor, I + never thought of you, or your head, or that infernal scalping business, + when I said what I did. It was true—it happened to <i>me.”</i> + </p> + <p> + “How did it happen?” said. Mat, with eager, angry curiosity. + </p> + <p> + “Only in this way. I wanted to give her a Hair Bracelet myself—my + hair and Blyth’s, and so on. And an addle-headed old woman who seems to + know Madonna (that’s a name we give her) as well as Blyth himself, and + keeps what she knows just as close, got me into a corner, and talked + nonsense about the whole thing, as old women will.” + </p> + <p> + “What did she say?” asked Mat, more eager, more angry, and more curious + than ever. + </p> + <p> + “She talked nonsense, I tell you. She said a Hair Bracelet would be + unlucky to Madonna; and then told me Madonna had one already; and then + wouldn’t let me ask Blyth whether it was true, because I should get her + into dreadful trouble if I said anything to him about it; besides a good + deal more which you wouldn’t care to be bothered with. But I have told you + enough—haven’t I?—to show I was not thinking of you, when I + said that just now by way of a joke. Come, shake hands, old fellow. You’re + not offended with me, now I have explained everything?” + </p> + <p> + Mat gave his hand, but he put it out like a man groping in the dark. His + mind was full of that memorable letter about a Hair Bracelet, which he had + found in the box given to him by Joanna Grice. + </p> + <p> + “A Hair Bracelet?” he said, vacantly. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t be sulky!” cried Zack, clapping him on the shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “A Hair Bracelet is unlucky to the young woman—and she’s got one + already” (he was weighing attentively the lightest word that Zack had + spoken to him). “What’s it like?” he asked aloud, turning suddenly to + young Thorpe. + </p> + <p> + “What’s what like?” + </p> + <p> + “A Hair Bracelet.” + </p> + <p> + “Still harping on that, after all my explanations! Like? Why it’s hair + plaited up, and made to fasten round the wrist, with gold at each end to + clasp it by. What are you stopping for again? I’ll tell you what, Mat, I + can make every allowance for a man in your love-struck situation; but if I + didn’t know how you had been spending the morning, I should say you were + drunk.” + </p> + <p> + They had been walking along quickly, while Mat asked what a Hair Bracelet + was like. But no sooner had Zack told him than he came to a dead pause—started + and changed color—opened his lips to speak—then checked + himself, and remained silent. The information which he had just received + had recalled to him a certain object that he had seen in the drawer of Mr. + Blyth’s bureau; and the resemblance between the two had at once flashed + upon him. The importance which this discovery assumed in his eyes, in + connection with what he had already heard, may be easily estimated, when + it is remembered that his barbarian life had kept him totally ignorant + that a Hair Bracelet is in England one of the commonest ornaments of + woman’s wear. + </p> + <p> + “Are we going to stop here all day?” asked Zack. “If you’re turning from + sulky to sentimental again, I shall go back to Blyth’s, and pave the way + for you with Madonna, old boy!” He turned gaily in the direction of + Valentine’s house, as he said those words. + </p> + <p> + Mat did not offer to detain him; did not say a word at parting. He passed + his hand wearily over his eyes as Zack left him. “I’m sober,” he said + vacantly to himself; “I’m not dreaming; I’m not light-headed, though I + feel a’most like it. I saw that young woman as plain as I see them houses + in front of me now; and by God, if she had been Mary’s ghost, she couldn’t + have been more like her!” + </p> + <p> + He stopped. His hand fell to his side; then fastened mechanically on the + railings of a house near him. His rough, misshapen fingers trembled round + the iron. Recollections that had slumbered for years and years past, were + awakening again awfully to life within him. Through the obscurity and + oblivion of long absence, through the changeless darkness of the tomb, + there was shining out now, vivid and solemn on his memory, the image—as + she had been in her youth-time—of the dead woman whose name was + “Mary.” And it was only the sight of that young girl, of that poor, shy, + gentle, deaf and dumb creature, that had wrought the miracle! + </p> + <p> + He tried to shake himself clear of the influences which were now at work + on him. He moved forward a step or two, and looked up. Zack?—where + was Zack? + </p> + <p> + Away, at the other end of the solitary suburban street, just visible + sauntering along and swinging his stick in his hand. + </p> + <p> + Without knowing why he did so, Mat turned instantly and walked after him, + calling to him to come back. The third summons reached him: he stopped, + hesitated, made comic gesticulations with his stick in the air—then + began to retrace his steps. + </p> + <p> + The effort of walking and calling after him, had turned Mat’s thoughts in + another direction. They now occupied themselves again with the hints that + Zack had dropped of some incomprehensible connection between a Hair + Bracelet, and the young girl who was called by the strange name of + “Madonna.” With the remembrance of this, there came back also the + recollection of the letter about a bracelet, and its enclosure of hair, + which he had examined in the lonely cattle-shed at Dibbledean, and which + still lay in the little box bearing on it the name of “Mary Grice.” + </p> + <p> + “Well!” cried Zack, speaking as he came on. “Well, Cupid! what do you want + with me now?” + </p> + <p> + Mat did not immediately answer. His thoughts were still traveling back + cautiously over the ground which they had already explored. Once more, he + was pondering on that little circle of plaited hair, having gold at each + end, and looking just big enough to go round a woman’s wrist, which he had + seen in the drawer of Mr. Blyth’s bureau. And once again, the identity + between this object and the ornament which young Thorpe had described as + being the thing called a Hair Bracelet, began surely and more surely to + establish itself in his mind. + </p> + <p> + “Now then, don’t keep me waiting,” continued Zack, laughing again as he + came nearer; “clap your hand on your heart, and give me your tender + message for the future Mrs. Marksman.” + </p> + <p> + It was on the tip of Mat’s tongue to emulate the communicativeness of + young Thorpe, and to speak unreservedly of what he had seen in the drawer + of the bureau—but he suddenly restrained the words just as they were + dropping from his lips. At the same moment his eyes began to lose their + vacant perturbed look, and to brighten again with something of craft and + cunning, added to their customary watchful expression. + </p> + <p> + “What’s the young woman’s real name?” he asked carelessly, just as Zack + was beginning to banter him for the third time. + </p> + <p> + “Is that all you called me back for? Her real name’s Mary.” + </p> + <p> + Mat had made his inquiry with the air of a man whose thoughts were far + away from his words, and who only spoke because he felt obliged to say + something. Zack’s reply to his question startled him into instant and + anxious attention. + </p> + <p> + “Mary!” he repeated in a tone of surprise. “What else, besides Mary?” + </p> + <p> + “How should I know? Didn’t I try and beat it into your muddled old head, + half-an-hour ago, that Blyth won’t tell his friends anything about her?” + There was another pause. The secrecy in which Mr. Blyth chose to conceal + Madonna’s history, and the sequestered place in the innermost drawer of + his bureau where he kept the Hair Bracelet, began vaguely to connect + themselves together in Mat’s mind. A curious smile hovered about his lips, + and the cunning look brightened in his eyes. “The Painter-Man won’t tell + anything about her, won’t he? Perhaps that thing in his drawer will.” He + muttered the words to himself, putting his hands in his pockets, and + mechanically kicking away a stone which happened to lie at his feet on the + pavement. + </p> + <p> + “What are you grumbling about now?” asked Zack. “Do you think I’m going to + stop here all day for the pleasure of hearing you talk to yourself?” As he + spoke, he vivaciously rapped his friend on the shoulder with his stick. + “Trust me to pave the way for you with Madonna!” he called out + mischievously, as he turned back in the direction of Mr. Blyth’s house. + </p> + <p> + “Trust <i>me</i> to have another look at your friend’s Hair Bracelet,” + said Mat quietly to himself. “I’ll handle it this time, before I’m many + days older.” + </p> + <p> + He nodded over his shoulder at Zack, and walked away quickly in the + direction of Kirk Street. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VII. THE BOX OF LETTERS. + </h2> + <p> + The first thing Mat did when he got to his lodgings, was to fill and light + his pipe. He then sat down on his bear-skins, and dragged the box close to + him which he had brought from Dibbledean. + </p> + <p> + Although the machinery of Mat’s mind was constructed of very clumsy and + barbaric materials; although book-learning had never oiled it, and wise + men’s talk had never quickened it; nevertheless, it always contrived to + work on—much as it was working now—until it reached, sooner or + later, a practical result. Solitude and Peril are stern schoolmasters, but + they do their duty for good or evil, thoroughly with some men; and they + had done it thoroughly, amid the rocks and wildernesses of the great + American continent, with Mat. + </p> + <p> + Many a pipe did he empty and fill again, many a dark change passed over + his heavy features, as he now pondered long and laboriously over every + word of the dialogue that had just been held between himself and Zack. But + not so much as five minutes out of all the time he thus consumed, was, in + any true sense of the word, time wasted. He had sat down to his first + pipe, resolved that, if any human means could compass it, he would find + out how the young girl whom he had seen in Mr. Blyth’s studio, had first + come there, and who she really was. When he rose up at last, and put the + pipe away to cool, he had thought the matter fairly out from beginning to + end, had arrived at his conclusions, and had definitely settled his future + plans. + </p> + <p> + Reflection had strengthened him in the resolution to follow his first + impulse when he parted from Zack in the street, and begin the attempt to + penetrate the suspicious secret that hid from him and from every one the + origin of Valentine’s adopted child, by getting possession of the Hair + Bracelet which he had seen laid away in the inner drawer of the bureau. As + for any assignable reason for justifying him in associating this Hair + Bracelet with Madonna, he found it, to his own satisfaction, in young + Thorpe’s account of the strange words spoken by Mrs. Peckover in Mr. + Blyth’s hall—the suspicions resulting from these hints being also + immensely strengthened, by his recollections of the letter signed “Jane + Holdsworth,” and containing an enclosure of hair, which he had examined in + the cattle-shed at Dibbledean. + </p> + <p> + According to that letter, a Hair Bracelet (easily recognizable if still in + existence, by comparing it with the hair enclosed in Jane Holdsworth’s + note) had once been the property of Mary Grice. According to what Zack had + said, there was apparently some incomprehensible confusion and mystery in + connection with a Hair Bracelet and the young woman whose extraordinary + likeness to what Mary Grice had been in her girlhood, had first suggested + to him the purpose he was now pursuing. Lastly, according to what he + himself now knew, there was actually a Hair Bracelet lying in the + innermost drawer of Mr. Blyth’s bureau—this latter fragment of + evidence assuming in his mind, as has been already remarked, an undue + significance in relation to the fragments preceding it, from his not + knowing that hair bracelets are found in most houses where there are women + in a position to wear any jewelry ornament at all. + </p> + <p> + Vague as they might be, these coincidences were sufficient to startle him + at first—then to fill him with an eager, devouring curiosity—and + then to suggest to him the uncertain and desperate course which he was now + firmly resolved to follow. How he was to gain possession of the Hair + Bracelet without Mr. Blyth’s knowledge, and without exciting the slightest + suspicion in the painter’s family, he had not yet determined. But he was + resolved to have it, he was perfectly unscrupulous as to means, and he + felt certain beforehand of attaining his object. Whither, or to what + excesses, that object might lead him, he never stopped and never cared to + consider. The awful face of the dead woman (now fixed for ever in his + memory by the living copy of it that his own eyes had beheld) seemed to be + driving him on swiftly into unknown darkness, to bring him out into + unexpected light at the end. The influence which was thus sternly at work + in him was not to be questioned—it was to be obeyed. + </p> + <p> + His resolution in reference to the Hair Bracelet was not more firmly + settled than his resolution to keep his real sensations on seeing Madonna, + and the purpose which had grown out of them, a profound secret from young + Thorpe, who was too warmly Mr. Blyth’s friend to be trusted. Every word + that Zack had let slip, had been of vital importance, hitherto; every word + that might yet escape him, might be of the most precious use for future + guidance. “If it’s his fun and fancy,” mused Mat, “to go on thinking I’m + sweet on the girl, let him think it. The more he thinks, the more he’ll + talk. All I’ve got to do is to <i>hold in;</i> and then he’s sure to <i>let + out.”</i> + </p> + <p> + While schooling himself thus as to his future conduct towards Zack, he did + not forget another person who was less close at hand certainly, but who + might also be turned to good account. Before he fairly decided on his plan + of action, he debated with himself the propriety of returning to + Dibbledean, and forcing from the old woman, Joanna Grice, more information + than she had been willing to give him at their first interview. But, on + reflection, he considered that it was better to leave this as a resource + to be tried, in case of the failure of his first experiment with the Hair + Bracelet. One look at that—one close comparison of the hair it was + made of, with the surplus hair which had not been used by the jeweler, in + Mary Grice’s bracelet, and which had been returned to her in her friend’s + letter—was all he wanted in the first place; for this would be + enough to clear up every present uncertainty and suspicion connected with + the ornament in the drawer of Mr. Blyth’s bureau. + </p> + <p> + These were mainly the resolutions to which his long meditation had now + crookedly and clumsily conducted him. His next immediate business was to + examine those letters in the box, which he had hitherto not opened; and + also to possess himself of the enclosure of hair, in the letter to “Mary + Grice,” that he might have it always about him ready for any emergency. + </p> + <p> + Before he opened the box, however, he took a quick, impatient turn or two + up and down his miserable little room. Not once, since he had set forth to + return to his own country, and to the civilization from which, for more + than twenty years, he had been an outcast, had he felt (to use his + favorite expression) that he was “his own man again,” until now. A thrill + of the old, breathless, fierce suspense of his days of deadly peril ran + through him, as he thought on the forbidden secret into which he was about + to pry, and for the discovery of which he was ready to dare any hazard and + use any means. “It goes through and through me, a’most like dodging for + life again among the bloody Indians,” muttered Mat to himself, as he trod + restlessly to and fro in his cage of a room, rubbing all the while at the + scars on his face, as his way was when any new excitement got the better + of him. + </p> + <p> + At the very moment when this thought was rising ominously in his mind, + Valentine was expounding anew the whole scope and object of “Columbus” to + a fresh circle of admiring spectators—while his wife was + interpreting to Madonna above stairs Zack’s wildest jokes about his + friend’s love-stricken condition; and all three were laughing gaily at a + caricature, which he was maliciously drawing for them, of “poor old Mat” + in the character of a scalped Cupid. Even the little minor globe of each + man’s social sphere has its antipodes-points; and when it is all bright + sunshine in one part of the miniature world, it is all pitch darkness, at + the very same moment, in another. + </p> + <p> + Mat’s face had grown suddenly swarthier than ever, while he walked across + his room, and said those words to himself which have just been recorded. + It altered again, though, in a minute or two, and turned once more to the + cold clay-color which had overspread it in the hosier’s shop at + Dibbledean, as he returned to his bear-skins and opened the box that had + belonged to “Mary Grice.” + </p> + <p> + He took out first the letter with the enclosure of hair, and placed it + carefully in the breast pocket of his coat. He next searched a moment or + two for the letter superscribed and signed by Joanna Grice; and, having + found it, placed it on one side of him, on the floor. After this he paused + a moment, looking into the box with a curious, scowling sadness on his + face; while his hand vacantly stirred hither and thither the different + objects that lay about among the papers—the gaily-bound album, the + lace-collar, the dried flower-leaves, and the other little womanly + possessions which had once belonged to Mary Grice. + </p> + <p> + Then he began to collect together all the letters in the box. Having got + them into his hands—some tied up in a packet, some loose—he + spread them out before him on his lap, first drawing up an end of one of + the bear-skins over his legs for them to lie on conveniently. He began by + examining the addresses. They were all directed to “Mary Grice,” in the + same clear, careful, sharply-shaped handwriting. Though they were letters + in form, they proved to be only notes in substance, when he opened them: + the writing, in some, not extending to more than four or five lines. At + least fifteen or twenty were expressed, with unimportant variations, in + this form: + </p> + <p> + “MY DEAREST MARY—Pray try all you can to meet me to-morrow evening + at the usual place. I have been waiting and longing for you in vain + to-day. Only think of <i>me,</i> love, as I am now, and always, thinking + of <i>you;</i> and I know you will come. Ever and only yours, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “A. C.” + </pre> + <p> + All these notes were signed in the same way, merely with initial letters. + They contained nothing in the shape of a date, except the day of the week + on which they had been written; and they had evidently been delivered by + some private means, for there did not appear to be a post-mark on any of + them. One after another Mat opened and glanced at them—then tossed + them aside into a heap. He pursued this employment quietly and + methodically; but as he went on with it, a strange look flashed into his + eyes from time to time, giving to them a certain sinister brightness which + altered very remarkably the whole natural expression of his face. + </p> + <p> + Other letters, somewhat longer than the note already quoted, fared no + better at his hands. Dry leaves dropped out of some, as he threw them + aside; and little water-color drawings of rare flowers fluttered out of + others. Hard botanical names which he could not spell through, and + descriptions of plants which he could not understand, occurred here and + there in postscripts and detached passages of the longer letters. But + still, whether long or short, they bore no signature but the initials “A. + C.;” still the dates afforded no information of the year, month, or place + in which they had been written; and still Mat quietly and quickly tossed + them aside one after the other, without so much as a word or a sigh + escaping him, but with that sinister brightness flashing into his eyes + from time to time. Out of the whole number of the letters, there were only + two that he read more than once through, and then pondered over anxiously, + before he threw them from him like the rest. + </p> + <p> + The first of the two was expressed thus:— + </p> + <p> + “I shall bring the dried ferns and the passion flower for your album with + me this evening. You cannot imagine, dearest, how happy and how vain I + feel at having made you as enthusiastic a botanist as I am myself. Since + you have taken an interest in my favorite pursuit, it has been more + exquisitely delightful to me than any words can express. I believe that I + never really knew how to touch tender leaves tenderly until now, when I + gather them with the knowledge that they are all to be shown to <i>you,</i> + and all to be placed in your dear hand. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know, my own love, I thought I detected an alteration in you + yesterday evening? I never saw you so serious. And then your attention + often wandered; and, besides, you looked at me once or twice quite + strangely, Mary.—I mean strangely, because your color seemed to be + coming and going constantly without any imaginable reason. I really + fancied, as I walked home—and I fancy still—that you had + something to say, and were afraid to say it. Surely, love, you can have no + secrets from me!—But we shall meet to-night, and then you will tell + me everything (will you not?) without reserve. Farewell, dearest, till + seven o’clock.” + </p> + <p> + Mat slowly read the second paragraph of this letter twice over, + abstractedly twisting about his great bristly whiskers between his finger + and thumb. There was evidently something in the few lines which he was + thus poring over, that half saddened, half perplexed him. Whatever the + difficulty was, he gave it up, and went on doggedly to the next letter, + which was an exception to the rest of the collection, for it had a + postmark on it. He had failed to notice this, on looking at the outside; + but he detected directly on glancing at the inside that it was dated + differently from those which had gone before it. Under the day of the week + was written the word “London”—noting which, he began to read the + letter with some appearance of anxiety. It ran thus: + </p> + <p> + “I write, my dearest love, in the greatest possible agitation and despair. + All the hopes I felt, and expressed to you, that any absence would not + last more than a few days, and that I should not be obliged to journey + farther from Dibbledean than London, have been entirely frustrated. I am + absolutely compelled to go to Germany, and may be away as long as three or + four months. You see, I tell you the worst at once, Mary, because I know + your courage and high spirit, and feel sure that you will bear up bravely + against this unforeseen parting, for both our sakes. How glad I am that I + gave you my hair for your Bracelet, when I did; and that I got yours in + return! It will be such a consolation to both of us to have our keepsakes + to look at now. + </p> + <p> + “If it only rested with <i>me</i> to go or not, no earthly consideration + should induce me to take this journey. But the rights and interests of + others are concerned in my setting forth; and I must, therefore, depart at + the expense of my own wishes, and my own happiness. I go this very day, + and can only steal a few minutes to write to you. My pen hurries over the + paper without stopping an instant—I am so agitated that I hardly + know what I am saying to you. + </p> + <p> + “If anything, dearest Mary, could add to my sense of the misfortune of + being obliged to leave you, it would be the apprehension which I now feel, + that I may have ignorantly offended you, or that something has happened + which you don’t like to tell me. Ever since I noticed, ten days ago, that + little alteration in your manner, I have been afraid you had something on + your mind that you were unwilling to confide to me. The very last time we + saw each other I thought you had been crying; and I am sure you looked + away uneasily, whenever our eyes met. What is it? Do relieve my anxiety by + telling me what it is in your first letter! The moment I get to the other + side of the Channel, I will send you word, where to direct to. I will + write constantly—mind you write constantly too. Love me, and + remember me always, till I return, never, I hope, to leave you again.—A. + C.” + </p> + <p> + Over this letter, Mat meditated long before he quietly cast it away among + the rest. When he had at last thrown it from him there remained only three + more to examine. They proved to be notes of no consequence, and had been + evidently written at an earlier period than the letters he had just read. + After hastily looking them over, he searched carefully all through the + box, but no papers, of any sort remained in it. That hurried letter, with + its abrupt announcement of the writer’s departure from England, was the + latest in date—the last of the series! + </p> + <p> + After he had made this discovery, he sat for a little while vacantly + gazing out of the window. His sense of the useless result to which the + search he had been prosecuting had led him, thus far, seemed to have + robbed him of half his energy already. He looked once or twice at the + letter superscribed by Joanna Grice, mechanically reading along the line + on the cover:—“Justification of my conduct towards my niece,”—but + not attempting to examine what was written inside. It was only after a + long interval of hesitation and delay that he at last roused himself. “I + must sweep these things out of the way, and read all what I’ve got to read + before Zack comes in,” he said to himself, gathering up the letters heaped + at his feet, and thrusting them all back again together, with an oath, + into the box. + </p> + <p> + He listened carefully once or twice after he had shut down the lid, and + while he was tying the cords over it, to ascertain whether his wild young + friend was opening the street door yet, or not. How short a time he had + passed in Zack’s company, yet how thoroughly well he knew him, not as to + his failings only, but as to his merits besides! How wisely he foreboded + that his boisterous fellow-lodger would infallibly turn against him as an + enemy, and expose him without an instant’s hesitation, if young Thorpe got + any hint of his first experimental scheme for discovering poor Mr. Blyth’s + anxiously-treasured secret by underhand and treacherous means! Mat’s + cunning had proved an invaluable resource to him on many a critical + occasion already; but he had never been more admirably served by it than + now, when it taught him to be cautious of betraying himself to Zack. + </p> + <p> + For the present there seemed to be no danger of interruption. He corded up + the box at his leisure, concealed it in its accustomed place, took his + brandy-bottle from the cupboard, opened Joanna Grice’s letter—and + still there was no sound of any one entering, in the passage downstairs. + Before he began to read, he drank some of the spirit from the neck of the + bottle. Was there some inexplicable dread stealing over him at the mere + prospect of examining the contents of this one solitary letter? + </p> + <p> + It seemed as if there was. His finger trembled so, when he tried to guide + himself by it along each successive line of the cramped writing which he + was now attempting to decipher, that he had to take a second dram to + steady it. And when he at length fairly began the letter, he did not + pursue his occupation either as quietly or as quickly as he had followed + it before. Sometimes he read a line or two aloud, sometimes he overlooked + several sentences, and went on to another part of the long narrative—now + growling out angry comments on what he was reading; and now dashing down + the paper impatiently on his knees, with fierce outbursts of oaths, which + he had picked up in the terrible swearing-school of the Californian gold + mines. + </p> + <p> + He began, however, with perfect regularity at the proper part of the + letter; sitting as near to the window as he could, and slanting the + closely written page before him, so as to give himself the full benefit of + all the afternoon light which still flowed into the room. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER VIII. JOANNA GRICE’S NARRATIVE. + </h2> + <p> + “I intend this letter to be read after my death, and I purpose calling it + plainly a Justification of my conduct towards my Niece. Not because I + think my conduct wants any excuse—but because others, ignorant of my + true motives, may think that my actions want justifying, and may wickedly + condemn me unless I make some such statement in my own defense as the + present. There may still be living one member of my late brother’s family, + whose voice would, I feel sure, be raised against me for what I have done. + The relation to whom I refer has been—” + </p> + <p> + (Here Mat, who had read carefully thus far, grew impatient, and growling + out some angry words, guided himself hastily down the letter with his + finger till he arrived at the second paragraph.) + </p> + <p> + “—It was in the April month of 1827 that the villain who was the + ruin of my niece, and the dishonor of the once respectable family to which + she belonged, first came to Dibbledean. He took the little four room + cottage called Jay’s Cottage, which was then to be let furnished, and + which stands out of the town about a quarter of a mile down Church-lane. + He called himself Mr. Carr, and the few letters that came to him were + directed to ‘Arthur Carr, Esq.’ + </p> + <p> + “He was quite a young man,—I should say not more than four or five + and twenty—very quiet mannered and delicate—or rather + effeminate looking, as I thought—for he wore his hair quite long + over his shoulders, in the foreign way, and had a clear, soft complexion, + almost like a woman’s. Though he appeared to be a gentleman, he always + kept out of the way of making acquaintances among the respectable families + about Dibbledean. He had no friends of his own to come and see him that I + heard of, except an old gentleman who might have been his father, and who + came once or twice. His own account of himself was, that he came to Jay’s + Cottage for quiet, and retirement, and study; but he was very reserved, + and would let nobody make up to him until the miserable day when he and my + brother Joshua, and then my niece Mary, all got acquainted together. + </p> + <p> + “Before I go on to anything else, I must say first, that Mr. Carr was what + they call a botanist. Whenever it was fine, he was always out of doors, + gathering bits of leaves, which it seems he carried home in a tin case, + and dried, and kept by him. He hired a gardener for the bit of ground + round about Jay’s Cottage; and the man told me once, that his master knew + more about flowers and how to grow them than anybody he ever met with. Mr. + Carr used to make little pictures, too, of flowers and leaves set together + in patterns. These things were thought very odd amusements for a young man + to take up with; but he was as fond of them as others of his age might be + hunting or shooting. He brought down many books with him, and read a great + deal; but from all that I heard, he spent more time over his flowers and + his botany than anything else. + </p> + <p> + “We had, at that time, the two best shops in Dibbledean. Joshua sold + hosiery, and I carried on a good dress-making and general millinery + business. Both our shops were under the same roof, with a partition wall + between. One day Mr. Carr came in Joshua’s shop, and wanted something + which my brother had not got as ready to hand as the common things that + the townspeople generally bought. Joshua begged him to sit down for a few + minutes; but Mr. Carr (the parlor door at the bottom of the shop being + left open) happened to look into the garden, which he could see very well + through the window, and said that he would like to wait there, and look at + the flowers. Joshua was only too glad to have his garden taken such notice + of, by a gentleman who was a botanist; so he showed his customer in there, + and then went up into the warehouse to look for what was wanted. + </p> + <p> + “My niece, Mary, worked in my part of the house, along with the other + young women. The room they used to be in looked into the garden; and from + the window my niece must have seen Mr. Carr, and must have slipped down + stairs (I not being in the way just then) to peep at the strange gentleman—or, + more likely, to make believe she was accidentally walking in the garden, + and so get noticed by him. All I know is, that when I came up into the + workroom and found she was not there, and looked out of the window, I saw + her, and Joshua, and Mr. Carr all standing together on the grass plot, the + strange gentleman talking to her quite intimate, with a flower in his + hand. + </p> + <p> + “I called out to her to come back to her work directly. She looked up at + me, smiling in her bold impudent way, and said:—‘Father has told me + I may stop and learn what this gentleman is so kind as to teach me about + my geraniums.’ After that, I could say nothing more before the stranger: + and when he was gone, and she came back triumphing, and laughing, and + singing about the room, more like a mad play-actress than a decent young + woman, I kept quiet and bore with her provocation. But I went down to my + brother Joshua the same day, and talked to him seriously, and warned him + that she ought to be kept stricter, and never let to have her own way, and + offered to keep a strict hand over her myself, if he would only support me + properly. But he put me off with careless, jesting words, which he learned + to repent of bitterly afterwards. + </p> + <p> + “Joshua was as pious and respectable a man as ever lived: but it was his + misfortune to be too easy-tempered, and too proud of his daughter. Having + lost his wife, and his eldest boy and girl, he seemed so fond of Mary, + that he could deny her nothing. There was, to be sure, another one left of + his family of children, who—” + </p> + <p> + (Here, again, Mat lost patience. He had been muttering to himself angrily + for the last minute or two, while he read—and now once more he + passed over several lines of the letter, and went on at once to a new + paragraph.) + </p> + <p> + “I have said she was vain of her good looks, and bold, and flighty; and I + must now add, that she was also hasty and passionate, and reckless. But + she had wheedling ways with her, which nobody was sharp enough to see + through but me. When I made complaints against her to her father, and + proved that I was right in making them, she always managed to get him to + forgive her. She behaved, from the outset, (though I stood in the place of + a mother to her,) as perversely towards me as usual, in respect to Mr. + Carr. It had flattered her pride to be noticed and bowed to just as if she + was a born lady, by a gentleman, and a customer at the shop. And the very + same evening, at tea time, she undid before my face the whole effect of + the good advice I had been giving her father. What with jumping on his + knee, kissing him, tying and untying his cravat, sticking flowers in his + button-hole, and going on altogether more like a child than a grown-up + young woman, she wheedled him into promising that he would take her next + Sunday to see Mr. Carr’s garden; for it seems the gentleman had invited + them to look at his flowers. I had tried my best, when I heard it, to + persuade my brother not to accept the invitation and let her scrape + acquaintance with a stranger under her father’s own nose; but all that I + could say was useless now. She had got the better of me, and when I put in + my word, she had her bold laugh and her light answer ready to insult me + with directly. Her father said he wondered I was not amused at her high + spirits. I shook my head, but said nothing in return. Poor man! he lived + to see where her ‘high spirits’ led her to. + </p> + <p> + “On the Sunday, after church, they went to Mr. Carr’s. Though my advice + was set at defiance in this way, I determined to persevere in keeping a + stricter watch over my niece than ever. I felt that the maintaining the + credit and reputation of the family rested with me, and I determined that + I would try my best to uphold our good name. It is some little comfort to + me, after all that has happened, to remember that I did my utmost to carry + out this resolution. The blame of our dishonor lies not at my door. I + disliked and distrusted Mr. Carr from the very first; and I tried hard to + make others as suspicious of him as I was. But all I could say, and all I + could do, availed nothing against the wicked cunning of my niece. Watch + and restrain her as I might, she was sure—” + </p> + <p> + (Once more Mat broke off abruptly in the middle of a sentence. This time, + however, it was to strike a light. The brief day of winter was fast fading + out—the coming darkness was deepening over the pages of Joanna + Grice’s narrative. When he had lit his candle, and had sat down to read + again, he lost his place, and, not having patience to look for it + carefully, went on at once with the first lines that happened to strike + his eye.) + </p> + <p> + “Things were now come, then, to this pass, that I felt certain she was in + the habit of meeting him in secret; and yet I could not prove it to my + brother’s satisfaction. I had no help that I could call in to assist me + against the diabolical cunning that was used to deceive me. To set other + people to watch them, when I could not, would only have been spreading + through Dibbledean the very scandal that I was most anxious to avoid. As + for Joshua, his infatuation made him deaf to all that I could urge. He + would see nothing suspicious in the fondness Mary had suddenly taken for + Botany, and drawing flowers. He let Mr. Carr lend her paintings to copy + from, just as if they had known each other all their lives. Next to his + blind trust in his daughter, because he was so fond of her, was his blind + trust in this stranger, because the gentleman’s manners were so quiet and + kind, and because he sent us presents of expensive flowers to plant in our + garden. He would not authorize me to open Mary’s letters, or to forbid her + ever to walk out alone; and he even told me once that I did not know how + to make proper allowances for young people. + </p> + <p> + “Allowances! I knew my niece better, and my duty as one of an honest + family better, than to make allowances for such conduct as hers. I kept + the tightest hand over her that I could. I advised her, argued with her, + ordered her, portioned out her time for her, watched her, warned her, told + her in the plainest terms, that she should not deceive me—she or her + gentleman! I was honest and open, and said I disapproved so strongly of + the terms she kept up with Mr. Carr, that if ever it lay in my power to + cut short their acquaintance together, I would most assuredly do it. I + even told her plainly that if she once got into mischief, it would then be + too late to reclaim her; and she answered in her reckless, sluttish way, + that if she ever did get into mischief it would be nothing but my + aggravation that would drive her to it; and that she believed her father’s + kindness would never find it too late to reclaim her again. This is only + one specimen of the usual insolence and wickedness of all her replies to + me.” + </p> + <p> + (As he finished this paragraph, Mat dashed the letter down angrily on his + knee, and cursed the writer of it with some of those gold-digger’s + imprecations which it had been his misfortune to hear but too often in the + past days of his Californian wanderings. It was evidently only by placing + considerable constraint upon himself, that he now refrained from crumpling + up the letter and throwing it from him in disgust. However, he spread it + out flat before him once more—looked first at one paragraph, then at + another, but did not read them; hesitated—and then irritably turned + over the leaf of paper before him, and began at a new page.) + </p> + <p> + “When I told Joshua generally what I had observed, and particularly what I + myself had seen and heard on the evening in question, he seemed at last a + little staggered, and sent for my niece, to insist on an explanation. On + his repeating to her what I had mentioned to him, she flung her arms round + his neck, looked first at me and then at him, burst out sobbing and + crying, and so got from bad to worse, till she had a sort of fit. I was + not at all sure that this might not be one of her tricks; but it + frightened her father so that he forgot himself, and threw all the blame + on me, and said my prudery and conspiring had tormented and frightened the + poor girl out of her wits. After being insulted in this way, of course the + only thing I could do was to leave the room, and let her have it all her + own way with him. + </p> + <p> + “It was now the autumn, the middle of September; and I was at my wit’s end + to know what I ought to think and do next—when Mr. Carr left + Dibbledean. He had been away once or twice before, in the summer, but only + for a day or two at a time. On this occasion, my niece received a letter + from him. He had never written to her when he was away in the summer; so I + thought this looked like a longer absence than usual, and I determined to + take advantage of it to try if I could not break off the intimacy between + them, in case it went the length of any more letter-writing. + </p> + <p> + “I most solemnly declare, and could affirm on oath if necessary, that in + spite of all I had seen and all I suspected for these many months, I had + not the most distant idea of the wickedness that had really been + committed. I thank God I was not well enough versed in the ways of sin to + be as sharp in coming to the right conclusion as other women might have + been in my situation. I only believed that the course she was taking might + be fatal to her at some future day; and, acting on that belief, I thought + myself justified in using any means in my power to stop her in time. I + therefore resolved with myself that if Mr. Carr wrote again, she should + get none of his letters; and I knew her passionate and proud disposition + well enough to know that if she could once be brought to think herself + neglected by him, she would break off all intercourse with him, if ever he + came back, immediately. + </p> + <p> + “I thought myself perfectly justified, standing towards her as I did in + the place of a mother, and having only her good at heart, in taking these + measures. On that head my conscience is still quite easy. I cannot mention + what the plan was that I now adopted, without seriously compromising a + living person. All I can say is, that every letter from Mr. Carr to our + house, passed into my hands only, and was by me committed to the flames + unread. These letters were at first all for my niece; but towards the end + of the year two came, at different intervals, directed to my brother. I + distrusted the cunning of the writer and the weakness of Joshua; and I put + both those letters into the fire, unread like the rest. After that, no + more came; and Mr. Carr never returned to Jay’s Cottage. In reference to + this part of my narrative, therefore, I have only now to add, before + proceeding to the miserable confession of our family dishonor, that I + never afterwards saw, and only once heard of the man who tempted my niece + to commit the deadly sin which was her ruin in this world, and will be her + ruin in the next. + </p> + <p> + “I must return first, however, to what happened from my burning of the + letters. When my niece found that week after week passed, and she never + heard from Mr. Carr, she fretted about it much more than I had fancied she + would. And Joshua unthinkingly made her worse by wondering, in her + presence, at the long absence of the gentleman of Jay’s Cottage. My + brother was a man who could not abide his habits being broken in on. He + had been in the habit of going on certain evenings to Mr. Carr’s (and, I + grieve to say, often taking his daughter with him) to fetch the London + paper, to take back drawings of flowers, and to let my niece bring away + new ones to copy. And now, he fidgeted, and was restless, and discontented + (as much as so easy-tempered a man could be) at not taking his usual walks + to Jay’s Cottage. This, as I have said, made his daughter worse. She + fretted and fretted, and cried in secret, as I could tell by her eyes, + till she grew to be quite altered. Now and then, the angry fit that I had + expected to see, came upon her; but it always went away again in a manner + not at all natural to one of her passionate disposition. All this time, + she led me as miserable a life as she could; provoking and thwarting and + insulting me at every opportunity. I believe she suspected me, in the + matter of the letters. But I had taken my measures so as to make discovery + impossible; and I determined to wait, and be patient and persevering, and + get the better of her and her wicked fancy for Mr. Carr, just as I had + made up my mind to do. + </p> + <p> + “At last, as the winter drew on, she altered so much, and got such a + strange look in her face, which never seemed to leave it, that Joshua + became alarmed, and said he must send for the doctor. She seemed to be + frightened out of her wits at the mere thought of it; and declared, quite + passionately, all of a sudden, that she had no want of a doctor, and would + see none and answer the questions of none—no! not even if her father + himself insisted on it. + </p> + <p> + “This astonished me as well as Joshua; and when he asked me privately what + I thought was the matter with her, I was obliged of course to tell him the + truth, and say I believed that she was almost out of her mind with love + for Mr. Carr. For the first time in his life, my brother flew into a + violent rage with me. I suspect he was furious with his own conscience for + reminding him, as it must have done then, how foolishly overindulgent he + had been towards her, and how carelessly he had allowed her as well as + himself, to get acquainted with a person out of her own station, whom it + was not proper for either of them to know. I said nothing of this to him + at the time: he was not fit to listen to it—and still less fit, even + had I been willing to confide it to him, to hear what the plan was which I + had adopted for working her cure. + </p> + <p> + “As the weeks went on, and she still fretted in secret, and still looked + unlike herself, I began to doubt whether this very plan, from which I had + hoped so much, would after all succeed. I was sorely distressed in my + mind, at times, as to what I ought to do next; and began indeed to feel + the difficulty getting too much for me, just when it was drawing on fast + to its shocking and shameful end. We were then close upon Christmas time. + Joshua had got his shop-bills well forward for sending out, and was gone + to London on business, as was customary with him at this season of the + year. I expected him back, as usual, a day or two before Christmas Day. + </p> + <p> + “For a little while past, I had noticed some change in my niece. Ever + since my brother had talked about sending for the doctor, she had altered + a little, in the way of going on more regularly with her work, and + pretending (though she made but a bad pretense of it) that there was + nothing ailed her; her object being, of course, to make her father easier + about her in his mind. The change, however, to which I now refer, was of + another sort, and only affected her manner towards me, and her manner of + dressing herself. When we were alone together, now, I found her conduct + quite altered. She spoke soft to me, and looked humble, and did what work + I set her without idleness or murmuring; and once, even made as if she + wanted to kiss me. But I was on my guard—suspecting that she wanted + to entrap me, with her wheedling ways, into letting out something about + Mr. Carr’s having written, and my having burned his letters. It was at + this time also, and a little before it, that I noticed the alteration in + her dress. She fell into wearing her things in a slovenly way, and sitting + at home in her shawl, on account of feeling cold, she said, when I + reprimanded her for such untidyness. + </p> + <p> + “I don’t know how long things might have lasted like this, or what the end + might have been, if events had gone on in their own way. But the dreadful + truth made itself known at last suddenly, by a sort of accident. She had a + quarrel with one of the other young women in the dressmaking-room, named + Ellen Gough, about a certain disreputable friend of hers, one Jane + Holdsworth, whom I had once employed, and had dismissed for impertinence + and slatternly conduct. Ellen Gough having, it seems, been provoked past + all bearing by something my niece said to her, came away to me in a + passion, and in so many words told me the awful truth, that my brother’s + only daughter had disgraced herself and her family for ever. The horror + and misery of that moment is present to me now, at this distance of time. + The shock I then received struck me down at once; I never have recovered + from it, and I never shall. + </p> + <p> + “In the first distraction of the moment, I must have done or said + something down stairs, where I was, which must have warned the wretch in + the room above that I had discovered her infamy. I remember going to her + bed-chamber, and finding the door locked, and hearing her refuse to open + it. After that, I must have fainted, for I found myself, I did not know + how, in the work-room, and Ellen Gough giving me a bottle to smell to. + With her help, I got into my own room; and there I fainted away dead + again. + </p> + <p> + “When I came to, I went once more to my niece’s bed-chamber. The door was + now open; and there was a bit of paper on the looking-glass directed to my + brother Joshua. She was gone from the honest house that her sin had + defiled—gone from it for ever. She had written only a few scrawled + wild lines to her father, but in them there was full acknowledgment of her + crime and a confession that it was the villain Carr who had caused her to + commit it. She said she was gone to take her shame from our doors. She + entreated that no attempt might be made to trace her, for she would die + rather than return to disgrace her family, and her father in his old age. + After this came some lines, which seemed to have been added, on second + thoughts, to what went before. I do not remember the exact words; but the + sense referred, shamelessly enough as I thought, to the child that was + afterwards born, and to her resolution, if it came into the world alive, + to suffer all things for its sake. + </p> + <p> + “It was at first some relief to know that she was gone. The dreadful + exposure and degradation that threatened us, seemed to be delayed at least + by her absence. On questioning Ellen Gough, I found that the other two + young women who worked under me, and who were most providentially absent + on a Christmas visit to their friends, were not acquainted with my niece’s + infamous secret. Ellen had accidentally discovered it; and she had, + therefore, been obliged to confess to Ellen, and put trust in her. + Everybody else in the house had been as successfully deceived as I had + been myself. When I heard this, I began to have some hope that our family + disgrace might remain unknown in the town. + </p> + <p> + “I wrote to my brother, not telling him what had happened, but only + begging him to come back instantly. It was the bitterest part of all the + bitter misery I then suffered, to think of what I had now to tell Joshua, + and of what dreadful extremities his daughter’s ruin might drive him to. I + strove hard to prepare myself for the time of coming trial; but what + really took place was worse than my worst forebodings. + </p> + <p> + “When my brother heard the shocking news I had to tell, and saw the + scrawled paper she had left for him, he spoke and acted as if he was out + of his mind. It was only charitable, only fair to his previous character, + to believe, as I then believed, that distress had actually driven him, for + the time, out of his senses. He declared that he would go away instantly + and search for her, and set others seeking for her too. He said, he even + swore, that he would bring her back home the moment he found her; that he + would succor her in her misery, and accept her penitence, and shelter her + under his roof the same as ever, without so much as giving a thought to + the scandal and disgrace that her infamous situation would inflict on her + family. He even wrested Scripture from its true meaning to support him in + what he said, and in what he was determined to do. And, worst of all, the + moment he heard how it was that I had discovered his daughter’s crime, he + insisted that Ellen Gough should be turned out of the house: he declared, + in such awful language as I had never believed it possible he could utter, + that she should not sleep under his roof that night. It was hopeless to + attempt to appease him. He put her out at the door with his own hand that + very day. She was an excellent and a regular workwoman, but sullen and + revengeful when her temper was once roused. By the next morning our + disgrace was known all over Dibbledean. + </p> + <p> + “There was only one more degradation now to be dreaded; and that it + sickened me to think of. I knew Joshua well enough to know that if he + found the lost wretch he was going in search of, he would absolutely and + certainly bring her home again. I had been born in our house at + Dibbledean; my mother before me had been born there; our family had lived + in the old place, honestly and reputably, without so much as a breath of + ill report ever breathing over them, for generations and generations back. + When I thought of this, and then thought of the bare possibility that an + abandoned woman might soon be admitted, and a bastard child born, in the + house where so many of my relations had lived virtuously and died + righteously, I resolved that the day when <i>she</i> set her foot on our + threshold, should be the day when <i>I</i> left my home and my birth place + for ever. + </p> + <p> + “While I was in this mind, Joshua came to me—as determined in his + way as I secretly was in mine—to ask if I had any suspicions about + what direction she had taken. All the first inquiries after her that he + had made in Dibbledean, had, it seems, given him no information whatever. + I said I had no positive knowledge (which was strictly true), but told him + I suspected she was gone to London. He asked why? I answered, because I + believed she was gone to look after Mr. Carr; and said that I remembered + his letter to her (the first and only one she received) had a London + post-mark upon it. We could not find this letter at the time: the + hiding-place she had for it, and for all the others she left behind her, + was not discovered till years after, when the house was repaired for the + people who bought our business. Joshua, however, having nothing better to + guide himself by, and being resolved to begin seeking her at once, said my + suspicion was a likely one; and went away to London by that night’s coach, + to see what he could do, and to get advice from his lawyers about how to + trace her. + </p> + <p> + “This, which I have been just relating, is the only part of my conduct, in + the time of our calamity, which I now think of with an uneasy conscience. + When I told Joshua I suspected she was gone to London I was not telling + him the truth. I knew nothing certainly about where she was gone; but I + did assuredly suspect that she had turned her steps exactly in the + contrary direction to London—that is to say, far out Bangbury way. + She had been constantly asking all sorts of questions of Ellen Gough, who + told me of it, about roads, and towns, and people in that distant part of + the country: and this was my only reason for thinking she had taken + herself away in that direction. Though it was but a matter of bare + suspicion at the best, still I deceived my brother as to my real opinion + when he asked it of me: and this was a sin which I now humbly and truly + repent of. But the thought of helping him, by so little even as a likely + guess, to bring our infamy home to our own doors, by actually bringing his + degraded daughter back with him into my presence, in the face of the whole + town—this thought, I say, was too much for me. I believed that the + day when she crossed our threshold again would be the day of my death, as + well as the day of my farewell to home; and under that conviction I + concealed from Joshua what my real opinion was. + </p> + <p> + “I deserved to suffer for this; and I did suffer for it. + </p> + <p> + “Two or three days after the lonely Christmas Day that I passed in utter + solitude at our house in Dibbledean, I received a letter from Joshua’s + lawyer in London, telling me to come up and see my brother immediately, + for he was taken dangerously ill. In the course of his inquiries (which he + would pursue himself, although the lawyers, who knew better what ought to + be done, were doing their utmost to help him), he had been misled by some + false information, and had been robbed and ill-used in some place near the + river, and then turned out at night in a storm of snow and sleet. It is + useless now to write about what I suffered from this fresh blow, or to + speak of the awful time I passed by his bed-side in London. Let it be + enough to say, that he escaped out of the very jaws of death; and that it + was the end of February before he was well enough to be taken home to + Dibbledean. + </p> + <p> + “He soon got better in his own air—better as to his body, but his + mind was in a sad way. Every morning he used to ask if any news of Mary + had come? and when he heard there was none, he used to sigh, and then + hardly say another word, or so much as hold up his head, for the rest of + the day. At one time, he showed a little anxiety now and then about a + letter reaching its destination, and being duly received; peevishly + refusing to mention to me even so much as the address on it. But I guessed + who it had been sent to easily enough, when his lawyers told me that he + had written it in London, and had mentioned to them that it was going to + some place beyond the seas. He soon seemed to forget this though, and to + forget everything, except his regular question about Mary, which he + sometimes repeated in his dazed condition, even after I had broken it to + him that she was dead. + </p> + <p> + “The news of her death came in the March month of the new year, 1828. + </p> + <p> + “All inquiries in London had failed up to that time in discovering the + remotest trace of her. In Dibbledean we knew she could not be; and + elsewhere Joshua was now in no state to search for her himself; or to have + any clear notions of instructing others in what direction to make + inquiries for him. But in this month of March, I saw in the Bangbury paper + (which circulates in our county besides its own) an advertisement calling + on the friends of a young woman who had just died and left behind her an + infant, to come forward and identify the body, and take some steps in + respect to the child. The description was very full and particular, and + did not admit of a doubt, to any one that knew her as well as I did, that + the young woman referred to was my guilty and miserable niece. My brother + was in no condition to be spoken to in this difficulty; so I determined to + act for myself. I sent by a person I could depend upon, money enough to + bury her decently in Bangbury churchyard, putting no name or date to my + letter. There was no law to oblige me to do more, and more I was + determined not to do. As to the child, that was the offspring of her sin; + it was the infamous father’s business to support and own it, and not mine. + </p> + <p> + “When people in the town, who knew of our calamity, and had seen the + advertisement, talked to me of it, I admitted nothing, and denied nothing—I + simply refused to speak with them on the subject of what had happened in + our family. + </p> + <p> + “Having endeavored to provide in this way for the protection of my brother + and myself against the meddling and impertinence of idle people, I + believed that I had now suffered the last of the many bitter trials which + had assailed me as the consequences of my niece’s guilt: I was mistaken: + the cup of my affliction was not yet full. One day, hardly a fortnight + after I had sent the burial money anonymously to Bangbury, our servant + came to me and said there was a stranger at the door who wished to see my + brother, and was so bent on it that he would take no denial. I went down, + and found waiting on the door-steps a very respectable-looking, + middle-aged man, whom I had certainly never set eyes on before in my life. + </p> + <p> + “I told him that I was Joshua’s sister, and that I managed my brother’s + affairs for him in the present state of his health. The stranger only + answered, that he was very anxious to see Joshua himself. I did not choose + to expose the helpless condition into which my brother’s intellects had + fallen, to a person of whom I knew nothing; so I merely said, the + interview he wanted was out of the question, but that if he had any + business with Mr. Grice, he might, for the reasons I had already given, + mention it to me. He hesitated, and smiled, and said he was very much + obliged to me; and then, making as if he was going to step in, added that + I should probably be able to appreciate the friendly nature of the + business on which he came, when he informed me that he was confidentially + employed by Mr. Arthur Carr. + </p> + <p> + “The instant he spoke it, I felt the name go to my heart like a knife—then + my indignation got the better of me. I told him to tell Mr. Carr that the + miserable creature whom his villainy had destroyed, had fled away from her + home, had died away from her home, and was buried away from her home; and, + with that, I shut the door in his face. My agitation, and a sort of terror + that I could not account for, so overpowered me that I was obliged to lean + against the wall of the passage, and was unable, for some minutes, to stir + a step towards going up stairs. As soon as I got a little better, and + began to think about what had taken place, a doubt came across me as to + whether I might not have acted wrong. I remembered that Joshua’s lawyers + in London had made it a great point that this Mr. Carr should be traced; + and, though, since then, our situation had been altered by my niece’s + death, still I felt uncertain and uneasy—I could hardly tell why—at + what I had done. It was as if I had taken some responsibility on myself + which ought not to have been mine. In short, I ran back to the door and + opened it, and looked up and down the street. It was too late: the strange + man was out of sight, and I never set eyes on him again. + </p> + <p> + “This was in March, 1828, the same month in which the advertisement + appeared. I am particular in repeating the date because it marks the time + of the last information I have to give, in connection with the disgraceful + circumstances which I have here forced myself to relate. Of the child + mentioned in the advertisement, I never heard anything, from that time to + this. I do not even know when it was born. I only know that its guilty + mother left her home in the December of 1827. Whether it lived after the + date of the advertisement, or whether it died, I never discovered, and + never wished to discover. I have kept myself retired since the days of my + humiliation, hiding my sorrow in my own heart, and neither asking + questions nor answering them.” + </p> + <p> + At this place Mat once more suspended the perusal of the letter. He had + now read on for an unusually long time with unflagging attention, and with + the same stern sadness always in his face, except when the name of Arthur + Carr occurred in the course of the narrative. Almost on every occasion, + when the finger by which he guided himself along the close lines of the + letter, came to those words, it trembled a little, and the dangerous look + grew ever brighter and brighter in his eyes. It was in them now, as he + dropped the letter on his knee, and, turning round, took from the wall + behind him, against which it leaned, a certain leather bag, already + alluded to, as part of the personal property that he brought with him on + installing himself in Kirk Street. He opened it, took out a feather fan, + and an Indian tobacco-pouch of scarlet cloth; and then began to search in + the bottom of the bag, from which, at length, he drew forth a letter. It + was torn in several places, the ink of the writing in it was faded, and + the paper was disfigured by stains of grease, tobacco, and dirt generally. + The direction was in such a condition, that the word “Brazils,” at the + end, was alone legible. Inside, it was not in a much better state. The + date at the top, however, still remained tolerably easy to distinguish: it + was “December 20th, 1827.” + </p> + <p> + Mat looked first at this, and then at the paragraph he had just been + reading, in Joanna Grice’s narrative. After that, he began to count on his + fingers, clumsily enough—beginning with the year 1828 as Number One, + and ending with the current year, 1851, as Number Twenty-three. + “Twenty-three,” he repeated aloud to himself, “twenty-three years: I shall + remember that.” + </p> + <p> + He looked down a little vacantly, the next moment, at the old torn letter + again. Some of the lines, here and there, had escaped stains and dirt + sufficiently to be still easily legible; and it was over these that his + eyes now wandered. The first words that caught his attention ran thus:—“I + am now, therefore, in this bitter affliction, more than ever desirous that + all past differences between us should be forgotten, and”—here the + beginning of another line was hidden by a stain, beyond which, on the + cleaner part of the letter, the writing proceeded:—“In this spirit, + then, I counsel you, if you can get continued employment anywhere abroad, + to accept it, instead of coming back”—(a rent in the paper made the + next words too fragmentary to be easily legible). * * * “any good news be + sure of hearing from me again. In the mean time, I say it once more, keep + away, if you can. Your presence could do no good; and it is better for + you, at your age, to be spared the sight of such sorrow as that we are now + suffering.” (After this, dirt and the fading of the ink made several + sentences near the end of the page almost totally illegible—the last + three or four lines at the bottom of the letter alone remaining clear + enough to be read with any ease.) * * * “the poor, lost, unhappy creature! + But I shall find her, I know I shall find her; and then, let Joanna say or + do what she may, I will forgive my own Mary, for I know she will deserve + her pardon. As for <i>him,</i> I feel confident that he may be traced yet; + and that I can shame him into making the atonement of marrying her. If he + should refuse, then the black-hearted villain shall—” + </p> + <p> + At this point, Mat abruptly stopped in his reading; and, hastily folding + up the letter, put it back in the bag again, along the feather fan and the + Indian pouch. “I can’t go on that part of the story now, but the time <i>may</i> + come—” He pursued the thought which thus expressed itself in him no + further, but sat still for a few minutes, with his head on his hand and + his heavy eyebrows contracted by an angry frown, staring sullenly at the + flame of the candle. Joanna Grice’s letter still remained to be finished. + He took it up, and looked back to the paragraph that he had last read. + </p> + <p> + “As for the child mentioned in the advertisement”—those were the + words to which he was now referring. <i>“The child?”</i>—There was + no mention of its sex. “I should like to know if it was a boy or a girl,” + thought Mat. + </p> + <p> + Though he was now close to the end of the letter, he roused himself with + difficulty to attend to the last few sentences which remained to be read. + They began thus:— + </p> + <p> + “Before I say anything in conclusion, of the sale of our business, of my + brother’s death, and of the life which I have been leading since that + time, I should wish to refer, once for all, and very briefly, to the few + things which my niece left behind her, when she abandoned her home. + Circumstances may, one day, render this necessary. I desire then to state, + that everything belonging to her is preserved in one of her boxes (now in + my possession), just as she left it. When the letters signed ‘A. C.’ were + discovered, as I have mentioned, on the occasion of repairs being made in + the house, I threw them into the box with my own hand. They will all be + found, more or less, to prove the justice of those first suspicions of + mine, which my late brother so unhappily disregarded. In reference to + money or valuables, I have only to mention that my niece took all her + savings with her in her flight. I knew in what box she kept them, and I + saw that box open and empty on her table, when I first discovered that she + was gone. As for the only three articles of jewelry that she had, her + brooch I myself saw her give to Ellen Gough—her earrings she always + wore—and I can only presume (never having found it anywhere) that + she took with her, in her flight, her Hair Bracelet.” + </p> + <p> + “There it is again!” cried Mat, dropping the letter in astonishment, the + instant those two significant words, “Hair Bracelet,” caught his eye. + </p> + <p> + He had hardly uttered the exclamation, before he heard the door of the + house flung open, then shut to again with a bang. Zack had just let + himself in with his latch-key. + </p> + <p> + “I’m glad he’s come,” muttered Mat, snatching up the letter from the + floor, and crumpling it into his pocket. “There’s another thing or two I + want to find out, before I go any further—and Zack’s the lad to help + me.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER IX. MORE DISCOVERIES. + </h2> + <p> + When Zack entered the room, and saw his strange friend, with legs crossed + and hands in pockets, sitting gravely in the usual corner, on the floor, + between a brandy-bottle on one side, and a guttering, unsnuffed candle on + the other, he roared with laughter, and stamped about in his usual + boisterous way, till the flimsy little house seemed to be trembling under + him to its very foundations. Mat bore all this noise and ridicule, and all + the jesting that followed it about the futility of drowning his passion + for Madonna in the brandy-bottle, with the most unruffled and exemplary + patience. The self-control which he thus exhibited did not pass without + its reward. Zack got tired of making jokes which were received with the + serenest inattention; and, passing at once from the fanciful to the + practical, astonished his fellow-lodger, by suddenly communicating a very + unexpected and very important piece of news. + </p> + <p> + “By-the-bye, Mat,” he said, “we must sweep the place up, and look as + respectable as we can, before to-morrow night. My friend Blyth is coming + to spend a quiet evening with us. I stayed behind till all the visitors + had gone, on purpose to ask him.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean he’s coming to have a drop of grog and smoke a pipe along + with us two?” asked Mat rather amazedly. + </p> + <p> + “I mean he’s coming here, certainly; but as for grog and pipes, he never + touches either. He’s the best and dearest fellow in the world; but I’m + ashamed to say he’s spooney enough to like lemonade and tea. Smoking would + make him sick directly; and, as for grog, I don’t believe a drop ever + passes his lips from one year’s end to another. A weak head—a + wretchedly weak head for drinking,” concluded Zack, tapping his forehead + with an air of bland Bacchanalian superiority. + </p> + <p> + Mat seemed to have fallen into one of his thoughtful fits again. He made + no answer, but holding the brandy-bottle standing by his side, up before + the candle, looked in to see how much liquor was left in it. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t begin to bother your head about the brandy: you needn’t get any + more of it for Blyth,” continued Zack, noticing his friend’s action. “I + say, do you know that the best thing you ever did in your life was saving + Valentine’s picture in that way? You have regularly won his heart by it. + He was suspicious of my making friends with you before; but now he doesn’t + seem to think there’s a word in the English language that’s good enough + for you. He said he should be only too glad to thank you again, when I + asked him to come and judge of what you were really like in your own + lodging. Tell him some of those splendid stories of yours. I’ve been + terrifying him already with one or two of them at secondhand. Oh Lord! how + hospitably we’ll treat him—won’t we? You shall make his hair stand + on end, Mat; and I’ll drown him in his favorite tea.” + </p> + <p> + “What does he do with them picters of his?” asked Mat. “Sell ‘em?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course!” answered the other, confidently; “and gets enormous sums of + money for them.” Whenever Zack found an opportunity of magnifying a + friend’s importance, he always rose grandly superior to mere + matter-of-fact restraints, and seized the golden moment without an instant + of hesitation or a syllable of compromise. + </p> + <p> + “Get lots of money, does he?” proceeded Mat. “And keeps on hoarding of it + up, I daresay, like all the rest of you over here?” + </p> + <p> + <i>“He</i> hoard money!” retorted Zack, “You never made a worse guess in + your life. I don’t believe he ever hoarded six-pence since he was a baby. + If Mrs. Blyth didn’t look after him, I don’t suppose there would be five + pounds in the house from one year’s end to another.” + </p> + <p> + There was a moment’s silence. (It wasn’t because he had money in it, then, + thought Mat, that he shut down the lid of that big chest of his so sharp. + I wonder whether—) + </p> + <p> + “He’s the most generous fellow in the world,” continued Zack, lighting a + cigar; “and the best pay: ask any of his tradespeople.” + </p> + <p> + This remark suspended the conjecture that was just forming in Mat’s mind. + He gave up pursuing it quite readily, and went on at once with his + questions to Zack. Some part of the additional information that he desired + to obtain from young Thorpe, he had got already. He knew now, that when + Mr. Blyth, on the day of the picture-show, shut down the bureau so sharply + on Mr. Gimble’s approaching him, it was not, at any rate, because there + was money in it. + </p> + <p> + “Is he going to bring anybody else in here along with him, to-morrow + night?” asked Mat. + </p> + <p> + “Anybody else? Who should he bring? Why, you old barbarian, you don’t + expect him to bring Madonna into our jolly bachelor den to preside over + the grog and pipes—do you?” + </p> + <p> + “How old is the young woman?” inquired Mat, contemplatively snuffing the + candle with his fingers, as he put the question. + </p> + <p> + “Still harping on my daughter!” shouted Zack, with a burst of laughter. + “She’s older than she looks, I can tell you that. You wouldn’t guess her + at more than eighteen or nineteen. But the fact is, she’s actually + twenty-three;—steady there! you’ll be through the window if you + don’t sit quieter in your queer corner than that.” + </p> + <p> + (Twenty-three! The very number he had stopped at, when he reckoned off the + difference on his fingers between 1828 and 1851, just before young Thorpe + came in.) + </p> + <p> + “I suppose the next cool thing you will say, is that she’s too old for + you,” Zack went on; “or, perhaps, you may prefer asking another question + or two first. I’ll tell you what, old Rough and Tough, the inquisitive + part of your character is beginning to be—” + </p> + <p> + “Bother all this talking!” interrupted Mat, jumping up suddenly as he + spoke, and taking a greasy pack of cards from the chimney-piece. “I don’t + ask no questions, and don’t want no answers. Let’s have a drop of grog and + a turn-to at Beggar-my-Neighbor. Sixpence a time. Come on!” + </p> + <p> + They sat down at once to their cards and their brandy-and-water; playing + uninterruptedly for an hour or more. Zack won; and—being + additionally enlivened by the inspiring influences of grog—rose to a + higher and higher pitch of exhilaration with every additional sixpence + which his good luck extracted from his adversary’s pocket. His gaiety + seemed at last to communicate itself even to the imperturbable Mat, who in + an interval of shuffling the cards, was heard to deliver himself suddenly + of one of those gruff chuckles, which have been already described as the + nearest approach he was capable of making towards a civilized laugh. + </p> + <p> + He was so seldom in the habit of exhibiting any outward symptoms of + hilarity, that Zack, who was dealing for the new game, stopped in + astonishment, and inquired with great curiosity what it was his friend was + “grunting about.” At first, Mat declined altogether to say;—then, on + being pressed, admitted that his mind was just then running on the “old + woman” Zack had spoken of; as having “suddenly fallen foul of him in Mr. + Blyth’s house, because he wanted to give the young woman a present:” which + circumstance, Mat added, “so tickled his fancy, that he would have paid a + crown piece out of his pocket only to have seen and heard the whole + squabble all through from beginning to end.” + </p> + <p> + Zack, whose fancy was now exactly in the right condition to be “tickled” + by anything that “tickled” his friend, seized in high glee the humorous + side of the topic suggested to him; and immediately began describing poor + Mrs. Peckover’s personal peculiarities in a strain of the most ridiculous + exaggeration. Mat listened, as he went on, with such admiring attention, + and seemed to be so astonishingly amused by everything he said, that, in + the excitement of success, he ran into the next room, snatched the two + pillows off the bed, fastened one in front and the other behind him, tied + the patchwork counterpane over all for a petticoat, and waddled back into + his friend’s presence, in the character of fat Mrs. Peckover, as she + appeared on the memorable evening when she stopped him mysteriously in the + passage of Mr. Blyth’s house. + </p> + <p> + Zack was really a good mimic; and he now hit off all the peculiarities of + Mrs. Peckover’s voice, manner, and gait to the life—Mat chuckling + all the while, rolling his huge head from side to side, and striking his + heavy fist applaudingly on the table. Encouraged by the extraordinary + effect his performances produced, Zack went through the whole of his scene + with Mrs. Peckover in the passage, from beginning to end; following that + excellent woman through all the various mazes of “rhodomontade” in which + she then bewildered herself, and imitating her terror when he threatened + to run upstairs and ask Mr. Blyth if Madonna really had a hair bracelet, + with such amazing accuracy and humor, as made Mat declare that what he had + just beheld for nothing, would cure him of ever paying money again to see + any regular play-acting as long as he lived. + </p> + <p> + By the time young Thorpe had reached the climax of his improvised dramatic + entertainment, he had so thoroughly exhausted himself that he was glad to + throw aside the pillows and the counterpane, and perfectly ready to spend + the rest of the evening quietly over the newspaper. His friend did not + interrupt him by a word, except at the moment when he sat down; and then + Mat said, simply and carelessly enough, that he thought he should detect + the original Mrs. Peckover directly by Zack’s imitation, if ever he met + with her in the streets. To which Young Thorpe merely replied that he was + not very likely to do anything of the sort; because Mrs. Peckover lived at + Rubbleford, where her husband had some situation, and where she herself + kept a little dairy and muffin shop. “She don’t come to town above once + a-year,” concluded Zack as he lit a cigar; “and then the old beauty stops + in-doors all the time at Blyth’s!” + </p> + <p> + Mat listened to this answer attentively, but offered no further remark. He + went into the back room, where the water was, and busied himself in + washing up all the spare crockery of the bachelor household in honor of + Mr. Blyth’s expected visit. + </p> + <p> + In process of time, Zack—on whom literature of any kind, high or + low, always acted more or less as a narcotic—grew drowsy over his + newspaper, let his grog get cold, dropped his cigar out of his mouth, and + fell fast asleep in his chair. When he woke up, shivering, his watch had + stopped, the candle was burning down in the socket, the fire was out, and + his fellow-lodger was not to be seen either in the front or the back room. + Young Thorpe knew his friend’s strange fancy for “going out over night (as + Mat phrased it) to catch the morning the first thing in the fields” too + well to be at all astonished at now finding himself alone. He moved away + sleepily to bed, yawning out these words to himself:—“I shall see + the old boy back again as usual to-morrow morning as soon as I wake.” + </p> + <p> + When the morning came, this anticipation proved to be fallacious. The + first objects that greeted Zack’s eyes when he lazily awoke about eleven + o’clock, were an arm and a letter, introduced cautiously through his + partially opened bedroom door. Though by no means contemptible in regard + to muscular development, this was not the hairy and herculean arm of Mat. + It was only the arm of the servant of all work, who held the barbarian + lodger in such salutary awe that she had never been known to venture her + whole body into the forbidden region of his apartments since he had first + inhabited them. Zack jumped out of bed and took the letter. It proved to + be from Valentine, and summoned him to repair immediately to the painter’s + house to see Mrs. Thorpe, who earnestly desired to speak with him. His + color changed as he read the few lines Mr. Blyth had written, and thought + of the prospect of meeting his mother face to face for the first time + since he had left his home. He hurried on his clothes, however, without a + moment’s delay, and went out directly—now walking at the top of his + speed, now running, in his anxiety not to appear dilatory or careless in + paying obedience to the summons that had just reached him. + </p> + <p> + On arriving at the painter’s house, he was shown into one of the parlors + on the ground floor; and there sat Mrs. Thorpe, with Mr. Blyth to keep her + company. The meeting between mother and son was characteristic on both + sides. Without giving Valentine time enough to get from his chair to the + door—without waiting an instant to ascertain what sentiments towards + him were expressed in Mrs. Thorpe’s face—without paying the smallest + attention to the damage he did to her cap and bonnet—Zack saluted + his mother with the old shower of hearty kisses and the old boisterously + affectionate hug of his nursery and schoolboy days. And she, poor woman, + on her side, feebly faltered over her first words of reproof—then + lost her voice altogether, pressed into his hand a little paper packet of + money that she had brought for him, and wept on his breast without + speaking another word. Thus it had been with them long ago, when she was + yet a young woman and he but a boy—thus, even as it was now in the + latter and the sadder time! + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Thorpe was long in regaining the self-possession which she had lost + on seeing her son for the first time since his flight from home. Zack + expressed his contrition over and over again, and many times reiterated + his promise to follow the plan Mr. Blyth had proposed to him when they met + at the turnpike, before his mother became calm enough to speak three words + together without bursting into tears. When she at last recovered herself + sufficiently to be able to address him with some composure, she did not + speak, as he had expected, of his past delinquencies or of his future + prospects, but of the lodging which he then inhabited, and of the stranger + whom he had suffered to become his friend. Although Mat’s gallant rescue + of “Columbus” had warmly predisposed Valentine in his favor, the painter + was too conscientious to soften facts on that account, when he told Zack’s + mother where her son was now living, and what sort of companion he had + chosen to lodge with. Mrs. Thorpe was timid, and distrustful as all timid + people are; and she now entreated him with nervous eagerness to begin his + promised reform by leaving Kirk Street, and at once dropping his dangerous + intimacy with the vagabond stranger who lived there. + </p> + <p> + Zack defended his friend to his mother, exactly as he had already defended + him to Valentine—but without shaking her opinion, until he bethought + himself of promising that in this matter, as in all others, he would be + finally guided by the opinion of Mr. Blyth. The assurance so given, + accompanied as it was by the announcement that Valentine was about to form + his own judgment of Mr. Marksman by visiting the house in Kirk Street that + very night, seemed to quiet and satisfy Mrs. Thorpe. Her last hopes for + her son’s future, now that she was forced to admit the sad necessity of + conniving at his continued absence from home, rested one and all on Mr. + Blyth alone. + </p> + <p> + This first difficulty smoothed over, Zack asked with no little + apprehension and anxiety, whether his father’s anger showed any symptoms + of subsiding as yet. The question was an unfortunate one. Mrs. Thorpe’s + eyes began to fill with tears again, the moment she heard it. The news she + had now to tell her son, in answering his inquiries, was of a very + melancholy and a very hopeless kind. + </p> + <p> + The attack of palpitations in the heart which had seized Mr. Thorpe on the + day of his son’s flight from Baregrove Square, had been immediately and + successfully relieved by the medical remedies employed; but it had been + followed, within the last day or two, by a terrible depression of spirits, + under which the patient seemed to have given way entirely, and for which + the doctor was unable to suggest any speedy process of cure. Few in number + at all times, Mr. Thorpe’s words had now become fewer than ever. His usual + energy appeared to be gone altogether. He still went through all the daily + business of the religious Societies to which he belonged, in direct + opposition to the doctor’s advice; but he performed his duties + mechanically, and without any apparent interest in the persons or events + with which he was brought in contact. He had only referred to his son once + in the last two days; and then it was not to talk of reclaiming him, not + to ask where he had gone, but only to desire briefly and despairingly that + his name might not be mentioned again. + </p> + <p> + So far as Zack’s interests or apprehensions were now concerned, there was, + consequently no fear of any new collision occurring between his father and + himself. When Mrs. Thorpe had told her husband (after receiving + Valentine’s answer to her letter) that their runaway son was “in safe + hands,” Mr. Thorpe never asked, as she had feared he would, “What hands?” + And again, when she hinted that it might be perhaps advisable to assist + the lad to some small extent, as long as he kept in the right way, and + suffered himself to be guided by the “safe hands” already mentioned, still + Mr. Thorpe made no objections and no inquiries, but bowed his head, and + told her to do as she pleased: at the same time whispering a few words to + himself; which were not uttered loud enough for her to hear. She could + only, therefore, repeat the sad truth that, since his energies had given + way, all his former plans and all his customary opinions, in reference to + his son, seemed to have undergone some disastrous and sudden alteration. + It was only in consequence of this alteration, which appeared to render + him as unfit to direct her how to act as to act himself; that she had + ventured to undertake the responsibility of arranging the present + interview with Zack, and of bringing him the small pecuniary assistance + which Mr. Blyth had considered to be necessary in the present melancholy + emergency. + </p> + <p> + The enumeration of all these particulars—interrupted, as it + constantly was, by unavailing lamentations on one side and by useless + self-reproaches on the other—occupied much more time than either + mother or son had imagined. It was not till the clock in Mr. Blyth’s hall + struck, that Mrs. Thorpe discovered how much longer her absence from home + had lasted than she had intended it should on leaving Baregrove Square. + She rose directly, in great trepidation—took a hurried leave of + Valentine, who was loitering about his front garden—sent the kindest + messages she could think of to the ladies above stairs—and departed + at once for home. Zack escorted her to the entrance of the square; and, on + taking leave, showed the sincerity of his contrition in a very unexpected + and desperate manner, by actually offering to return home then and there + with his mother, if she wished it! Mrs. Thorpe’s heart yearned to take him + at his word, but she remembered the doctor’s orders and the critical + condition of her husband’s health; and forced herself to confess to Zack + that the favorable time for his return had not yet arrived. After this—with + mutual promises to communicate again soon through Valentine—they + parted very sadly, just at the entrance of Baregrove Square: Mrs. Thorpe + hurrying nervously to her own door, Zack returning gloomily to Mr. Blyth’s + house. + </p> + <p> + Meanwhile, how had Mat been occupying himself, since he had left his young + friend alone in the lodging in Kirk Street? + </p> + <p> + He had really gone out, as Zack had supposed, for one of those long + night-walks of his, which usually took him well into the country before + the first grey of daylight had spread far over the sky. On ordinary + occasions, he only indulged in these oddly-timed pedestrian excursions + because the restless habits engendered by his vagabond life, made him + incapable of conforming to civilized hours by spending the earliest part + of the morning, like other people, inactively in bed. On this particular + occasion, however, he had gone out with something like a special purpose; + for he had left Kirk Street, not so much for the sake of taking a walk, as + for the sake of thinking clearly and at his ease. Mat’s brain was never so + fertile in expedients as when he was moving his limbs freely in the open + air. + </p> + <p> + Hardly a chance word had dropped from Zack that night which had not either + confirmed him in his resolution to possess himself of Valentine’s Hair + Bracelet, or helped to suggest to him the manner in which his + determination to obtain it might be carried out. The first great necessity + imposed on him by his present design, was to devise the means of secretly + opening the painter’s bureau; the second was to hit on some safe method—should + no chance opportunity occur—of approaching it unobserved. Mat had + remarked that Mr. Blyth wore the key of the bureau attached to his watch + chain; and Mat had just heard from young Thorpe that Mr. Blyth was about + to pay them a visit in Kirk Street. On the evening of that visit, + therefore, the first of the two objects—the discovery of a means of + secretly opening the bureau—might, in some way, be attained. How? + </p> + <p> + This was the problem which Mat set off to solve to his own perfect + satisfaction, in the silence and loneliness of a long night’s walk. + </p> + <p> + In what precise number of preliminary mental entanglements he involved + himself; before arriving at the desired solution, it would not be very + easy to say. As usual, his thoughts wandered every now and then from his + subject in the most irregular manner; actually straying away, on one + occasion as far as the New World itself; and unintelligibly occupying + themselves with stories he had heard, and conversations he had held in + various portions of that widely-extended sphere, with vagabond + chance-comrades from all parts of civilized Europe. How his mind ever got + back from these past times and foreign places to present difficulties and + future considerations connected with the guest who was expected in Kirk + Street, Mat himself would have been puzzled to tell. But it did eventually + get back, nevertheless; and, what was still more to the purpose, it + definitely and thoroughly worked out the intricate problem that had been + set it to solve. + </p> + <p> + Not a whispered word of the plan he had now hit on dropped from Mat’s + lips, as, turning it this way and that in his thoughts, he walked briskly + back to town in the first fresh tranquillity of the winter morning. + Discreet as he was, however, either some slight practical hints of his + present project must have oozed out through his actions when he got back + to London; or his notion of the sort of hospitable preparation which ought + to be made for the reception of Mr. Blyth, was more barbarously and + extravagantly eccentric than all the rest of his notions put together. + </p> + <p> + Instead of going home at once, when he arrived at Kirk Street, he stopped + at certain shops in the neighborhood to make some purchases which + evidently had reference to the guest of the evening; for the first things + he bought were two or three lemons and a pound of loaf sugar. So far his + proceedings were no doubt intelligible enough; but they gradually became + more and more incomprehensible when he began to walk up and down two or + three streets, looking about him attentively, stopping at every + locksmith’s and ironmonger’s shop that he passed, waiting to observe all + the people who might happen to be inside them, and then deliberately + walking on again. In this way he approached, in course of time, a very + filthy little row of houses, with some very ill-looking male and female + inhabitants visible in detached positions, staring out of windows or + lingering about public-house doors. + </p> + <p> + Occupying the lower story of one of these houses was a small grimy shop, + which, judging by the visible stock-in-trade, dealt on a much larger scale + in iron and steel ware that was old and rusty, than in iron and steel ware + that was new and bright. Before the counter no customer appeared; behind + it there stood alone a squalid, bushy browed, hump-backed man, as dirty as + the dirtiest bit of iron about him, sorting old nails. Mat, who had + unintelligibly passed the doors of respectable ironmongers, now, as + unintelligibly, entered this doubtful and dirty shop; and addressed + himself to the unattractive stranger behind the counter. The conference in + which the two immediately engaged was conducted in low tones, and + evidently ended to the satisfaction of both; for the squalid shopman began + to whistle a tune as he resumed his sorting of the nails, and Mat muttered + to himself; “That’s all right,” as he came out on the pavement again. + </p> + <p> + His next proceeding—always supposing that it had reference to the + reception of Mr. Blyth—was still more mysterious. He went into one + of those grocer’s shops which are dignified by the title of “Italian + Warehouses,” and bought a small lump of the very best refined wax! After + making this extraordinary purchase, which he put into the pocket of his + trousers, he next entered the public-house opposite his lodgings; and, in + defiance of what Zack had told him about Valentine’s temperate habits, + bought and brought away with him, not only a fresh bottle of Brandy, but a + bottle of old Jamaica Rum besides. + </p> + <p> + Young Thorpe had not returned from Mr. Blyth’s when Mat entered the + lodgings with these purchases. He put the bottles, the sugar, and the + lemons in the cupboard—cast a satisfied look at the three clean + tumblers and spoons already standing on the shelf—relaxed so far + from his usual composure of aspect as to smile—lit the fire, and + heaped plenty of coal on, to keep it alight—then sat down on his + bearskins—wriggled himself comfortably into the corner, and threw + his handkerchief over his face; chuckling gruffly for the first time since + the past night, as he put his hand in his pockets, and so accidentally + touched the lump of wax that lay in one of them. + </p> + <p> + “Now I’m all ready for the Painter-Man,” growled Mat behind the + handkerchief, as he quietly settled himself to go to sleep. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER X. THE SQUAW’S MIXTURE. + </h2> + <p> + Like the vast majority of those persons who are favored by Nature with, + what is commonly termed, “a high flow of animal spirits,” Zack was liable, + at certain times and seasons, to fall from the heights of exhilaration to + the depths of despair, without stopping for a moment, by the way, at any + intermediate stages of moderate cheerfulness, pensive depression, or + tearful gloom. After he had parted from his mother, he presented himself + again at Mr. Blyth’s house, in such a prostrate condition of mind, and + talked of his delinquencies and their effect on his father’s spirits, with + such vehement bitterness of self-reproach, as quite amazed Valentine, and + even alarmed him a little on the lad’s account. The good-natured painter + was no friend to contrite desperation of any kind, and no believer in + repentance, which could not look hopefully forward to the future, as well + as sorrowfully back at the past. So he laid down his brush, just as he was + about to begin varnishing the “Golden Age;” and set himself to console + Zack, by reminding him of all the credit and honor he might yet win, if he + was regular in attending to his new studies—if he never flinched + from work at the British Museum, and the private Drawing School to which + he was immediately to be introduced—and if he ended as he well might + end, in excusing to his father his determination to be an artist, by + showing Mr. Thorpe a prize medal, won by the industry of his son’s hand in + the Schools of the Royal Academy. + </p> + <p> + A necessary characteristic of people whose spirits are always running into + extremes, is that they are generally able to pass from one change of mood + to another with unusual facility. By the time Zack had exhausted Mr. + Blyth’s copious stores of consolation, had partaken of an excellent and + plentiful hot lunch, and had passed an hour up stairs with the ladies, he + predicted his own reformation just as confidently as he had predicted his + own ruin about two hours before; and went away to Kirk Street, to see that + his friend Mat was at home to receive Valentine that evening, stepping + along as nimbly and swinging his stick as cheerfully, as if he had already + vindicated himself to his father by winning every prize medal that the + Royal Academy could bestow. + </p> + <p> + Seven o’clock had been fixed as the hour at which Mr. Blyth was to present + himself at the lodgings in Kirk Street. He arrived punctual to the + appointed time, dressed jauntily for the occasion in a short blue frock + coat, famous among all his acquaintances for its smartness of cut and its + fabulous old age. From what Zack had told him of Mat’s lighter + peculiarities of character, he anticipated a somewhat uncivilized + reception from the elder of his two hosts; and when he got to Kirk Street, + he certainly found that his expectations were, upon the whole, handsomely + realized. + </p> + <p> + On mounting the dark and narrow wooden staircase of the tobacconist’s + shop, his nose was greeted by a composite smell of fried liver and bacon, + brandy and water, and cigar smoke, pouring hospitably down to meet him + through the crevices of the drawing-room door. When he got into the room, + the first object that struck his eyes at one end of it, was Zack, with his + hat on, vigorously engaged in freshening up the dusty carpet with a damp + mop; and Mat, at the other, presiding over the frying-pan, with his coat + off, his shirt sleeves rolled up to his shoulders, a glass of steaming hot + grog on the chimney-piece above him, and a long pewter toasting-fork in + his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Here’s the honored guest of the evening arrived before I’ve swabbed down + the decks,” cried Zack, jogging his friend in the ribs with the long + handle of the mop. + </p> + <p> + “How are you, to-night?” said Mat, with familiar ease, not moving from the + frying-pan, but getting his right hand free to offer to Mr. Blyth by + taking the pewter toasting-fork between his teeth. “Sit down anywhere you + like; and just holler through the crack in the floor, under the bearskins + there, if you want anything out of the Bocker-shop, below.”—(“He + means Tobacco when he says Bocker,” interposed Zack, parenthetically.) + “Can you set your teeth in a baked tater or two?” continued Mat, tapping a + small Dutch oven before the fire with his toasting-fork. “We’ve got you a + lot of fizzin’ hot liver and bacon to ease down the taters with what you + call a relish. Nice and streaky, ain’t it?” Here the host of the evening + stuck his fork into a slice of bacon, and politely passed it over his + shoulder for Mr. Blyth to inspect, as he stood bewildered in the middle of + the room. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, delicious, delicious!” cried Valentine, smelling as daintily at the + outstretched bacon as if it had been a nosegay. “Really, my dear sir—.” + He said no more; for at that moment he tripped himself up upon one of some + ten or a dozen bottle-corks which lay about on the carpet where he was + standing. There is very little doubt, if Zack had not been by to catch + him, that Mr. Blyth would just then have concluded his polite remarks on + the bacon by measuring his full length on the floor. + </p> + <p> + “Why don’t you put him into a chair?” growled Mat, looking round + reproachfully from the frying-pan, as Valentine recovered his erect + position again with young Thorpe’s assistance. + </p> + <p> + “I was just going to swab up that part of the carpet when you came in,” + said Zack, apologetically, as he led Mr. Blyth to a chair. + </p> + <p> + “Oh don’t mention it,” answered Valentine, laughing. “It was all my + awkwardness.” + </p> + <p> + He stopped abruptly again. Zack had placed him with his back to the fire, + against a table covered with a large and dirty cloth which flowed to the + floor, and under which, while he was speaking, he had been gently + endeavoring to insinuate his legs. Amazement bereft him of the power of + speech when, on succeeding in this effort, he found that his feet came in + contact with a perfect hillock of empty bottles, oyster-shells, and broken + crockery, heaped under the table. “Good gracious me! I hope I’m doing no + mischief!” exclaimed Valentine, as a miniature avalanche of oyster-shells + clattered down on his intruding foot, and a plump bottle with a broken + neck rolled lazily out from under the table-cloth, and courted observation + on the open floor. + </p> + <p> + “Kick about, dear old fellow, kick about as much as you please,” cried + Zack, seating himself opposite Mr. Blyth, and bringing down a second + avalanche of oyster-shells to encourage him. “The fact is, we are rather + put to it for space here, so we keep the cloth always laid for dinner, and + make a temporary lumber-room of the place under the table. Rather a new + idea that, I think—not tidy perhaps, but original and ingenious, + which is much better.” + </p> + <p> + “Amazingly ingenious!” said Valentine, who was now beginning to be amused + as well as surprised by his reception in Kirk Street. “Rather untidy, + perhaps, as you say, Zack; but new, and not disagreeable I suppose when + you’re used to it. What I like about all this,” continued Mr. Blyth, + rubbing his hands cheerfully, and kicking into view another empty bottle, + as he settled himself in his chair—“What I like about this is, that + it’s so thoroughly without ceremony. Do you know I really feel at home + already, though I never was here before in my life?—Curious, Zack, + isn’t it?” + </p> + <p> + “Look out for the taters!” roared Mat suddenly from the fireplace. + Valentine started, first at the unexpected shout just behind him, next at + the sight of a big truculently-knobbed potato which came flying over his + head, and was dexterously caught, and instantly deposited on the dirty + table-cloth by Zack. “Two, three, four, five, six,” continued Mat, keeping + the frying-pan going with one hand, and tossing the baked potatoes with + the other over Mr. Blyth’s head, in quick succession for young Thorpe to + catch. “What do you think of our way of dishing up potatoes in Kirk + Street?” asked Zack in great triumph. “It’s a little sudden when you’re + not used to it,” stammered Valentine, ducking his head as each edible + missile flew over him—“but it’s free and easy—it’s + delightfully free and easy.” “Ready there with your plates. The liver’s a + coming,” cried Mat in a voice of martial command, suddenly showing his + great red-hot perspiring face at the table, as he wheeled round from the + fire, with the hissing frying-pan in one hand and the long toasting-fork + in the other. “My dear sir, I’m shocked to see you taking all this + trouble,” exclaimed Mr. Blyth; “do pray let me help you!” “No, I’m damned + if I do,” returned Mat with the most polite suavity and the most perfect + good humor. “Let him have all the trouble, Blyth,” said Zack; “let him + help you, and don’t pity him. He’ll make up for his hard work, I can tell + you, when he sets in seriously to his liver and bacon. Watch him when he + begins—he bolts his dinner like the lion in the Zoological Gardens.” + </p> + <p> + Mat appeared to receive this speech of Zack’s as a well-merited + compliment, for he chuckled at young Thorpe and winked grimly at + Valentine, as he sat down bare-armed to his own mess of liver and bacon. + It was certainly a rare and even a startling sight to see this singular + man eat. Lump by lump, without one intervening morsel of bread, he tossed + the meat into his mouth rather than put it there—turned it + apparently once round between his teeth—and then voraciously and + instantly swallowed it whole. By the time a quarter of Mr. Blyth’s + plateful of liver and bacon, and half of Zack’s had disappeared, Mat had + finished his frugal meal; had wiped his mouth on the back of his hand, and + the back of his hand on the leg of his trousers; had mixed two glasses of + strong hot rum-and-water for himself and Zack; and had set to work on the + composition of a third tumbler, into which sugar, brandy, lemon-juice, + rum, and hot water all seemed to drop together in such incessant and + confusing little driblets, that it was impossible to tell which ingredient + was uppermost in the whole mixture. When the tumbler was full, he set it + down on the table, with an indicative bang, close to Valentine’s plate. + </p> + <p> + “Just try a toothful of that to begin with,” said Mat. “If you like it, + say Yes; if you don’t, say No; and I’ll make it better next time.” + </p> + <p> + “You are very kind, very kind indeed,” answered Mr. Blyth, eyeing the + tumbler by his side with some little confusion and hesitation; “but + really, though I should be shocked to appear ungrateful, I’m afraid I must + own—Zack, you ought to have told your friend—” + </p> + <p> + “So I did,” said Zack, sipping his rum-and-water with infinite relish. + </p> + <p> + “The fact is, my dear sir,” continued Valentine, “I have the most wretched + head in the world for strong liquor of any kind—” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t call it strong liquor,” interposed Mat, emphatically tapping the + rim of his guest’s tumbler with his fore-finger. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps,” pursued Mr. Blyth, with a polite smile, “I ought to have said + grog.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t call it grog,” retorted Mat, with two disputatious taps on the rim + of the glass. + </p> + <p> + “Dear me!” asked Valentine, amazedly, “what is it then?” + </p> + <p> + “It’s Squaw’s Mixture,” answered Mat, with three distinct taps of + asseveration. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Blyth and Zack laughed, under the impression that their queer + companion was joking with them. Mat looked steadily and sternly from one + to the other; then repeated with the gruffest gravity—“I tell you, + it’s Squaw’s Mixture.” + </p> + <p> + “What a very curious name! how is it made?” asked Valentine. + </p> + <p> + “Enough Brandy to spile the Water. Enough Rum to spile the Brandy and + Water. Enough Lemon to spile the Rum <i>and</i> Brandy <i>and</i> Water. + Enough Sugar to spile everything. That’s ‘Squaw’s Mixture,’” replied Mat + with perfect calmness and deliberation. + </p> + <p> + Zack began to laugh uproariously. Mat became more inflexibly grave than + ever. Mr. Blyth felt that he was growing interested on the subject of the + Squaw’s Mixture. He stirred it diffidently with his spoon, and asked with + great curiosity how his host first learnt to make it. + </p> + <p> + “When I was out, over there, in the Nor’-West,” began Mat, nodding towards + the particular point of the compass that he mentioned. + </p> + <p> + “When he says Nor’-West, and wags his addled old head like that at the + chimney-pots over the way, he means North America,” Zack explained. + </p> + <p> + “When I was out Nor’-West,” repeated Mat, heedless of the interruption, + “working along with the exploring gang, our stock of liquor fell short, + and we had to make the best of it in the cold with a spirt of spirits and + a pinch of sugar, drowned in more hot water than had ever got down the + throat of e’er a man of the lot of us before. We christened the brew + ‘Squaw’s Mixture,’ because it was such weak stuff that even a woman + couldn’t have got drunk on it if she tried. Squaw means woman in those + parts, you know; and Mixture means—what you’ve got afore you now. I + knowed you couldn’t stand regular grog, and that’s why I cooked it up for + you. Don’t keep on stirring of it with a spoon like that, or you’ll stir + it away altogether. Try it.” + </p> + <p> + “Let <i>me</i> try it—let’s see how weak it is,” cried Zack, + reaching over to Valentine. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you go a-shoving of your oar into another man’s rollocks,” said + Mat, dexterously knocking Zack’s spoon out of his hand just as it touched + Mr. Blyth’s tumbler. “You stick to <i>your</i> grog; I’ll stick to <i>my</i> + grog; and <i>he’ll</i> stick to Squaw’s Mixture.” With those words, Mat + leant his bare elbows on the table, and watched Valentine’s first + experimental sip with great curiosity. + </p> + <p> + The result was not successful. When Mr. Blyth put down the tumbler, all + the watery part of the Squaw’s Mixture seemed to have got up into his + eyes, and all the spirituous part to have stopped short at his lungs. He + shook his head, coughed, and faintly exclaimed—“Too strong.” + </p> + <p> + “Too hot you mean?” said Mat. + </p> + <p> + “No, indeed,” pleaded poor Mr. Blyth, “I really meant too strong.” + </p> + <p> + “Try again,” suggested Zack, who was far advanced towards the bottom of + his own tumbler already. “Try again. Your liquor all went the wrong way + last time.” + </p> + <p> + “More sugar,” said Mat, neatly tossing two lumps into the glass from where + he sat. “More lemon (squeezing one or two drops of juice, and three or + four pips, into the mixture). More water (pouring in about a tea-spoonful, + with a clumsy flourish of the kettle). Try again.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, thank you a thousand times. Really, do you know, it tastes + much nicer now,” said Mr. Blyth, beginning cautiously with a spoonful of + the squaw’s mixture at a time. + </p> + <p> + Mat’s spirits seemed to rise immensely at this announcement. He lit his + pipe, and took up his glass of grog; nodded to Valentine and young Thorpe, + just as he had nodded to the northwest point of the compass a minute or + two before; muttered gruffly, “Here’s all our good healths;” and finished + half his liquor at a draught. + </p> + <p> + “All our good healths!” repeated Mr. Blyth, gallantly attacking the + squaw’s mixture this time without any intermediate assistance from the + spoon. + </p> + <p> + “All our good healths!” chimed in Zack, draining his glass to the bottom. + “Really, Mat, it’s quite bewildering to see how your dormant social + qualities are waking up, now you’re plunged into the vortex of society. + What do you say to giving a ball here next? You’re just the man to get on + with the ladies, if you could only be prevailed on to wear your coat, and + give up airing your tawny old arms in public.” + </p> + <p> + “Don’t, my dear sir! I particularly beg you won’t,” cried Valentine, as + Mat, apparently awakened to a sense of polite propriety by Zack’s last + hint, began to unroll one of his tightly-tucked-up shirt-sleeves. “Pray + consult your own comfort, and keep your sleeves as they were—pray + do! As an artist, I have been admiring your arms from the professional + point of view ever since we first sat down to table. I never remember, in + all my long experience of the living model, having met with such a + splendid muscular development as yours.” + </p> + <p> + Saying those words, Mr. Blyth waved his hand several times before his + host’s arms, regarding them with his eyes partially closed, and his head + very much on one side, just as he was accustomed to look at his pictures. + Mat stared, smoked vehemently, folded the objects of Valentine’s + admiration over his breast, and, modestly scratching his elbows, looked at + young Thorpe with an expression of utter bewilderment. “Yes! decidedly the + most magnificent muscular development I ever remember studying,” + reiterated Mr. Blyth, drumming with his fingers on the table, and + concentrating the whole of his critical acumen in one eye by totally + closing the other. + </p> + <p> + “Hang it, Blyth!” remonstrated Zack, “don’t keep on looking at his arms as + if they were a couple of bits of prize beef! You may talk about his + muscular development as much as you please, but you can’t have the + smallest notion of what it’s really equal to till you try it. I say, old + Rough-and-Tough! jump up, and show him how strong you are. Just lift him + on your toe, like you did me. (Here Zack pulled Mat unceremoniously out of + his chair.) Come along, Blyth! Get opposite to him—give him hold of + your hand—stand on the toe part of his right foot—don’t + wriggle about—stiffen your hand and aim, and—there!—what + do you say to his muscular development now?” concluded Zack, with an air + of supreme triumph, as Mat slowly lifted from the ground the foot on which + Mr. Blyth was standing, and, steadying himself on his left leg, raised the + astonished painter with his right nearly two feet high in the air. + </p> + <p> + Any spectator observing the performance of this feat of strength, and + looking only at Mat, might well have thought it impossible that any human + being could present a more comical aspect than he now exhibited, with his + black skull-cap pushed a little on one side, and showing an inch or so of + his bald head, with his grimly-grinning face empurpled by the violent + physical exertion of the moment, and with his thick heavy figure + ridiculously perched on one leg. Mr. Blyth, however, was beyond all + comparison the more laughable object of the two, as he soared nervously + into the air on Mat’s foot, tottering infirmly in the strong grasp that + supported him, till he seemed to be trembling all over, from the tips of + his crisp black hair to the flying tails of his frock-coat. As for the + expression of his round rosy face, with the bright eyes fixed in a + startled stare, and the plump cheeks crumpled up by an uneasy smile, it + was so exquisitely absurd, as young Thorpe saw it over his fellow-lodger’s + black skull-cap, that he roared again with laughter. “Oh! look up at him!” + cried Zack, falling back in his chair. “Look at his face, for heaven’s + sake, before you put him down!” + </p> + <p> + But Mat was not to be moved by this appeal. All the attention his eyes + could spare during those few moments, was devoted, not to Mr. Blyth’s face + but to Mr. Blyth’s watch-chain. There hung the bright little key of the + painter’s bureau, dangling jauntily to and fro over his waistcoat-pocket. + As the right foot of the Sampson of Kirk Street hoisted him up slowly, the + key swung temptingly backwards and forwards between them. “Come take me! + come take me!” it seemed to say, as Mat’s eyes fixed greedily on it every + time it dangled towards him. + </p> + <p> + “Wonderful! wonderful!” cried Mr. Blyth, looking excessively relieved when + he found himself safely set down on the floor again. + </p> + <p> + “That’s nothing to some of the things he can do,” said Zack. “Look here! + Put yourself stomach downwards on the carpet; and if you think the + waistband of your trousers will stand it, he’ll take you up in his teeth.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, Zack, I’m perfectly satisfied without risking the waistband of + my trousers,” rejoined Valentine, returning in a great hurry to the table. + </p> + <p> + “The grog’s getting cold,” grumbled Mat. “Do you find it slip down easy + now?” he continued, handing the squaw’s mixture in the friendliest manner + to Mr. Blyth. + </p> + <p> + “Astonishingly easy!” answered Valentine, drinking this time almost with + the boldness of Zack himself. “Now it’s cooler, one tastes the sugar. + Whenever I’ve tried to drink regular grog, I have never been able to get + people to give it me sweet enough. The delicious part of this is that + there’s plenty of sugar in it. And, besides, it has the merit (which real + grog has not) of being harmless. It tastes strong to me, to be sure; but + then I’m not used to spirits. After what you say, however, of course it + must be harmless—perfectly harmless, I have no doubt.” Here he + sipped again, pretty freely this time, by way of convincing himself of the + innocent weakness of the squaw’s mixture. + </p> + <p> + While Mr. Blyth had been speaking, Mat’s hands had been gradually stealing + down deeper and deeper into the pockets of his trousers, until his finger + and thumb, and a certain plastic substance hidden away in the left-hand + pocket came gently into contact, just as Valentine left off speaking. + “Let’s have another toast,” cried Mat, quite briskly, the instant the last + word was out of his guest’s mouth. “Come on, one of you and give us + another toast,” he reiterated, with a roar of barbarous joviality, taking + up his glass in his right hand, and keeping his left still in his pocket. + </p> + <p> + “Give you another toast, you noisy old savage!” repeated Zack, “I’ll give + you <i>five,</i> all at once! Mr. Blyth, Mrs. Blyth, Madonna, Columbus, + and The Golden Age—three excellent people and two glorious pictures; + let’s lump them all together, in a friendly way, and drink long life and + success to them in beakers of fragrant grog!” shouted the young gentleman, + making perilously rapid progress through his second glass, as he spoke. + </p> + <p> + “Do you know, I’m afraid I must change to some other place, if you have no + objection,” said Mr. Blyth, after he had duly honored the composite toast + just proposed. “The fire here, behind me, is getting rather too hot.” + </p> + <p> + “Change along with me,” said Mat. “I don’t mind heat, nor cold neither, + for the matter of that.” + </p> + <p> + Valentine accepted this offer with great gratitude. “By-the-bye, Zack,” he + said, placing himself comfortably in his host’s chair, between the table + and the wall—“I was going to ask a favor of our excellent friend + here, when you suggested that wonderful and matchless trial of strength + which we have just had. You have been of such inestimable assistance to me + already, my dear sir,” he continued, turning towards Mat, with all his + natural cordiality of disposition now fully developed, under the fostering + influence of the Squaw’s Mixture. “You have laid me under such an + inexpressible obligation in saving my picture from destruction—” + </p> + <p> + “I wish you could make up your mind to say what you want in plain words,” + interrupted Mat. “I’m one of your rough-handed, thick-headed sort, <i>I</i> + am. I’m not gentleman enough to understand parlarver. It don’t do me no + good: it only worrits me into a perspiration.” And Mat, shaking down his + shirt-sleeve, drew it several times across his forehead, as a proof of the + truth of his last assertion. + </p> + <p> + “Quite right! quite right!” cried Mr. Blyth, patting him on the shoulder + in the most friendly manner imaginable. “In plain words, then, when I + mentioned, just now, how much I admired your arms in an artistic point of + view, I was only paving the way for asking you to let me make a drawing of + them, in black and white, for a large picture that I mean to paint later + in the year. My classical figure composition, you know, Zack—you + have seen the sketch—Hercules bringing to Eurystheus the Erymanthian + boar—a glorious subject; and our friend’s arms, and, indeed, his + chest, too, if he would kindly consent to sit for it, would make the very + studies I most want for Hercules.” + </p> + <p> + “What on earth <i>is</i> he driving at?” asked Mat, addressing himself to + young Thorpe, after staring at Valentine for a moment or two in a state of + speechless amazement. + </p> + <p> + “He wants to draw your arms—of course you will be only too happy to + let him—you can’t understand anything about it now—but you + will when you begin to sit—pass the cigars—thank Blyth for + meaning to make a Hercules of you-and tell him you’ll come to the + painting-room whenever he likes,” answered Zack, joining his sentences + together in his most offhand manner, all in a breath. + </p> + <p> + “What painting-room? Where is it?” asked Mat, still in a densely stupefied + condition. + </p> + <p> + “My painting-room,” replied Valentine. “Where you saw the pictures, and + saved Columbus, yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + Mat considered for a moment—then suddenly brightened up, and began + to look quite intelligent again. “I’ll come,” he said, “as soon as you + like—the sooner the better,” clapping his fist emphatically on the + table, and drinking to Valentine with his heartiest nod. + </p> + <p> + “That’s a worthy, good-natured fellow!” cried Mr. Blyth, drinking to Mat + in return, with grateful enthusiasm. “The sooner the better, as you say. + Come to-morrow evening.” + </p> + <p> + “All right. To-morrow evening,” assented Mat. His left hand, as he spoke, + began to work stealthily round and round in his pocket, molding into all + sorts of strange shapes, that plastic substance, which had lain hidden + there ever since his shopping expedition in the morning. + </p> + <p> + “I should have asked you to come in the day-time,” continued Valentine; + “but, as you know, Zack, I have the Golden Age to varnish, and one or two + little things to alter in the lower part of Columbus; and then, by the + latter end of the week, I must leave home to do those portraits in the + country which I told you of, and which are wanted before I thought they + would be. You will come with our friend, of course, Zack? I dare say I + shall have the order for you to study at the British Museum, by to-morrow. + As for the Private Drawing Academy—” + </p> + <p> + “No offense; but I can’t stand seeing you stirring up them grounds in the + bottom of your glass any longer,” Mat broke in here; taking away Mr. + Blyth’s tumbler as he spoke, throwing the sediment of sugar, the lemon + pips, and the little liquor left to cover them, into the grate behind; and + then, hospitably devoting himself to the concoction of a second supply of + that palatable and innocuous beverage, the Squaw’s Mixture. + </p> + <p> + “Half a glass,” cried Mr. Blyth. “Weak—remember my wretched head for + drinking, and pray make it weak.” + </p> + <p> + As he spoke, the clock of the neighboring parish church struck. + </p> + <p> + “Only nine,” exclaimed Zack, referring ostentatiously to the watch which + he had taken out of pawn the day before. “Pass the rum, Mat, as soon as + you’ve done with it—put the kettle on to boil—and now, my + lads, we’ll begin spending the evening in earnest!” + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * * * * * * +</pre> + <p> + If any fourth gentleman had been present to assist in “spending the + evening,” as Zack chose to phrase it, at the small social <i>soiree</i> in + Kirk Street; and if that gentleman had deserted the festive board as the + clock struck nine—had walked about the streets to enjoy himself in + the fresh air—and had then, as the clock struck ten, returned to the + society of his convivial companions, he would most assuredly have been + taken by surprise, on beholding the singular change which the lapse of one + hour had been sufficient to produce in the manners and conversation of Mr. + Valentine Blyth. + </p> + <p> + It might have been that the worthy and simple-hearted gentleman had been + unduly stimulated by the reek of hot grog, which in harmonious association + with a heavy mist of tobacco smoke, now filled the room; or it might have + been that the second brew of the Squaw’s Mixture had exceeded half a + glassful in quantity, had not been diluted to the requisite weakness, and + had consequently got into his head; but, whatever the exciting cause might + be, the alteration that had taken place since nine o’clock, in his voice, + looks, and manners, was remarkable enough to be of the nature of a moral + phenomenon. He now talked incessantly about nothing but the fine arts; he + differed with both his companions, and loftily insisted on his own + superior sagacity, whenever either of them ventured to speak a word; he + was by turns as noisy as Zack, and as gruff as Mat; his hair was crumpled + down over his forehead, his eyes were dimmed, his shirt collar was turned + rakishly over his cravat: in short, he was not the genuine Valentine Blyth + at all,—he was only a tipsy counterfeit of him. + </p> + <p> + As for young Thorpe, any slight steadiness of brain which he might + naturally possess, he had long since parted with, as a matter of course, + for the rest of the evening. Mat alone remained unchanged. There he sat, + reckless of the blazing fire behind him, still with that left hand of his + dropping stealthily every now and then into his pocket; smoking, drinking, + and staring at his two companions, just as gruffly self-possessed as ever. + </p> + <p> + “There’s ten,” muttered Mat, as the clock struck. “I said we should be + getting jolly by ten. So we are.” + </p> + <p> + Zack nodded his head solemnly, and stared hard at one of the empty bottles + on the floor, which had rolled out from the temporary store-room under the + table. + </p> + <p> + “Hold your tongues, both of you!” cried Mr. Blyth. “I insist on clearing + up that disputed point about whether artists are not just as hardy and + strong as other men. I’m an artist myself, and I say they are. I’ll agree + with you in everything else; for you’re the two best fellows in the world; + but if you say a word against artists, I’m your enemy for life. You may + talk to me, by the hour together about admirals, generals, and prime + ministers—I mention the glorious names of Michael Angelo and + Raphael; and down goes your argument directly. When Michael Angelo’s nose + was broken do you think he minded it? Look in his Life, and see if he did—that’s + all! Ha! ha! My painting-room is forty feet long (now this is an important + proof). While I was painting Columbus and the Golden Age, one was at one + end—north; and the other at the other—south. Very good. I + walked backwards and forwards between those two pictures incessantly; and + never sat down all day long. This is a fact—and the proof is, that I + worked on both of them at once. A touch on Columbus—a walk into the + middle of the room to look at the effect—turn round—walk up to + The Golden Age opposite—a touch on The Golden Age—another walk + into the middle of the room to look at the effect-another turn round—and + back again to Columbus. Fifteen miles a-day of in-door exercise, according + to the calculation of a mathematical friend of mine; and <i>not</i> + including the number of times I had to go up and down my portable wooden + steps to get at the top parts of Columbus. Isn’t a man hardy and strong + who can stand that? Ha! ha! Just feel my legs, Zack. Are they hard and + muscular, or are they not?” + </p> + <p> + Here Mr. Blyth, rapping young Thorpe smartly on the head with his spoon, + tried to skip out of his chair as nimbly as usual; but only succeeded in + floundering awkwardly into an upright position, after he had knocked down + his plate with all the greasy remains of the liver and bacon on it. Zack + roused himself from muddled meditation with a start; and, under pretense + of obeying his friend’s injunction, pinched Valentine’s leg with such + vigorous malice, that the painter fairly screamed again under the + infliction. All this time Mat sat immovably serene in his place next to + the fire. He just kicked Mr. Blyth’s broken plate, with the scraps of + liver and bacon, and the knife and fork that had fallen with them, into + the temporary storeroom under the table—and then pushed towards him + another glass of the squaw’s mixture, quietly concocted while he had been + talking. + </p> + <p> + The effect on Valentine of this hospitable action proved to be singularly + soothing and beneficial. He had been getting gradually more and more + disputatious for the last ten minutes; but the moment the steaming glass + touched his hand, it seemed to change his mood with the most magical + celerity. As he looked down at it, and felt the fragrant rum steaming + softy into his nostrils, his face expanded, and while his left hand + unsteadily conveyed the tumbler to his lips, his right reached across the + table and fraternally extended itself to Mat. “My dear friend,” said Mr. + Blyth affectionately, “how kind you are! Pray how do you make the Squaw’s + mixture?” + </p> + <p> + “I say, Mat, leave off smoking, and tell us something,” interposed Zack. + “Bowl away at once with one of your tremendous stories, or Blyth will be + bragging again about his rickety old legs. Talk, man! Tell us your famous + story of how you lost your scalp.” + </p> + <p> + Mat laid down his pipe, and for a moment looked very attentively at Mr. + Blyth—then, with the most uncharacteristic readiness and docility, + began his story at once, without requiring another word of persuasion. In + general, the very reverse of tedious when he related any experiences of + his own, he seemed, on this occasion, perversely bent on letting his + narrative ooze out to the most interminable length. Instead of adhering to + the abridged account of his terrible adventure, which he had given Zack + when they first talked together on Blackfriars Bridge, he now dwelt + drowsily on the minutest particulars of the murderous chase that had so + nearly cost him his life, enumerating them one after the other in the same + heavy droning voice which never changed its tone in the slightest degree + as he went on. After about ten minutes’ endurance of the + narrative-infliction which he had himself provoked, young Thorpe was just + beginning to feel a sensation of utter oblivion stealing over him, when a + sound of lusty snoring close at his back startled him into instant + wakefulness. He looked round. There was Mr. Blyth placidly and profoundly + asleep, with his mouth wide open and his head resting against the wall. + </p> + <p> + “Stop!” whispered Mat, as Zack seized on a half-squeezed lemon and took + aim at Valentine’s mouth. “Don’t wake him yet. What do you say to some + oysters?” + </p> + <p> + “Give us a dish, and I’ll show you,” returned young Thorpe. “Sally’s in + bed by this time—I’ll fetch the oysters myself from over the way. + But, I say, I must have a friendly shot with something or other, at dear + old Blyth’s gaping mouth.” + </p> + <p> + “Try him with an oyster, when you come back,” said Mat, producing from the + cupboard behind him a large yellow pie-dish. “Go on! I’ll see you down + stairs, and leave the candle on the landing, and the door on the jar, so + as you can get in quietly. Steady, young ‘un! and mind the dish when you + cross the road.” With these words Mat dismissed Zack from the street-door + to the oyster shop; and then returned immediately to his guest upstairs. + </p> + <p> + Valentine was still fast asleep and snoring vehemently. Mat’s hand + descended again into his pocket, reappearing, however, quickly enough on + this occasion, with the piece of wax which he had purchased that morning. + Steadying his arms coolly on the table, he detached the little chain which + held the key of Mr. Blyth’s bureau, from the watchguard to which it was + fastened, took off on his wax a perfect impression of the whole key from + the pipe to the handle, attached it again to the sleeper’s watchguard, + pared away the rough ends of the piece of wax till it fitted into an old + tin tobacco-box which he took from the chimney-piece, pocketed this box, + and then quietly resumed his original place at the table. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said Mat, looking at the unconscious Mr. Blyth, after he had lit + his pipe again; “Now, Painter-Man! wake up as soon as you like.” + </p> + <p> + It was not long before Zack returned. A violent bang of the street-door + announced his entry into the passage—a confused clattering and + stumbling marked his progress up stairs—a shrill crash, a heavy + thump, and a shout of laughter indicated his arrival on the landing. Mat + ran out directly, and found him prostrate on the floor, with the yellow + pie-dish in halves at the bottom of the stairs, and dozens of + oyster.-shells scattered about him in every direction. + </p> + <p> + “Hurt?” inquired Mat, pulling him up by the collar, and dragging him into + the room. + </p> + <p> + “Not a bit of it,” answered Zack. “I’ve woke Blyth, though (worse luck!) + and spoilt our shot with the oyster, havn’t I? Oh, Lord! how he stares!” + </p> + <p> + Valentine certainly did stare. He was standing up, leaning against the + wall, and looking about him in a woefully dazed condition. Either his nap, + or the alarming manner in which he had been awakened from it, had produced + a decided change for the worst in him. As he slowly recovered what little + sense he had left to make use of, all his talkativeness and cordiality + seemed to desert him. He shook his head mournfully; refused to eat or + drink anything; declared with sullen solemnity, that his digestion was “a + perfect wreck in consequence of his keeping drunken society;” and insisted + on going home directly, in spite of everything that Zack could say to him. + The landlord, who had been brought from his shop below by the noise, and + who thought it very desirable to take the first opportunity that offered + of breaking up the party before any more grog was consumed, officiously + ran down stairs, and called a cab—the result of this maneuver + proving in the sequel to be what the tobacconist desired. The moment the + sound of wheels was heard at the door, Mr. Blyth clamored peremptorily for + his hat and coat; and, after some little demur, was at last helped into + the cab in the most friendly and attentive manner by Mat himself. + </p> + <p> + “Just see the lights out upstairs, and the young ‘un in bed, will ye?” + said Mat to his landlord, as they stood together on the door-step. “I’m + going to blow some of the smoke out of me by taking a turn in the fresh + air.” + </p> + <p> + He walked away briskly, as he said the last words; but when he got to the + end of the street, instead of proceeding northwards towards the country, + and the cool night-breeze that was blowing from it, he perversely turned + southwards towards the filthiest little lanes and courts in the whole + neighborhood. + </p> + <p> + Stepping along at a rapid pace, he directed his course towards that + particular row of small and vile houses which he had already visited early + in the day; and stopped, as before, at the second-hand iron shop. It was + shut up for the night; but a dim light, as of one farthing candle, + glimmered through the circular holes in the tops of the shutters; and when + Mat knocked at the door with his knuckles; it was opened immediately by + the same hump-backed shopman with whom he had conferred in the morning. + </p> + <p> + “Got it?” asked the hunch-back in a cracked querulous voice the moment the + door was ajar. + </p> + <p> + “All right,” answered Mat in his gruffest bass tones, handing to the + little man the tin tobacco-box. + </p> + <p> + “We said to-morrow evening, didn’t we?” continued the squalid shopman. + </p> + <p> + “Not later than six,” added Mat. + </p> + <p> + “Not later than six,” repeated the other, shutting the door softly as his + customer walked away—northward this time—to seek the fresh air + in good earnest. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XI. THE GARDEN DOOR. + </h2> + <p> + “Hit or miss, I’ll chance it to-night” Those words were the first that + issued from Mat’s lips on the morning after Mr. Blyth’s visit, as he stood + alone amid the festive relics of the past evening, in the front room at + Kirk Street. “To-night,” he repeated to himself, as he pulled off his coat + and prepared to make his toilette for the day in a pail of cold water, + with the assistance of a short bar of wholesome yellow soap. + </p> + <p> + Though it was still early, his mind had been employed for some hours past + in considering how the second and only difficulty, which now stood between + him and the possession of the Hair Bracelet, might best be overcome. + Having already procured the first requisite for executing his design, how + was he next to profit by what he had gained? Knowing that the false key + would be placed in his hands that evening, how was he to open Mr. Blyth’s + bureau without risking discovery by the owner, or by some other person in + the house? + </p> + <p> + To this important question he had as yet found no better answer than was + involved in the words he had just whispered to himself, while preparing + for his morning ablutions. As for any definite plan, by which to guide + himself; he was desperately resigned to trust for the discovery of it to + the first lucky chance which might be brought about by the events of the + day. “I should like though to have one good look by daylight round that + place they call the Painting Room,” thought Mat, plunging his face into + two handsful of hissing soap-suds. + </p> + <p> + He was still vigorously engaged over the pail of cold water, when a loud + yawn, which died away gradually into a dreary howl, sounded from the next + room, and announced that Zack was awake. In another minute the young + gentleman appeared gloomily, in his night gown, at the folding doors by + which the two rooms communicated. His eyes looked red-rimmed and blinking, + his cheeks mottled and sodden, his hair tangled and dirty. He had one hand + to his forehead, and groaning with the corners of his mouth lamentably + drawn down, exhibited a shocking and salutary picture of the consequences + of excessive conviviality. + </p> + <p> + “Oh Lord, Mat!” he moaned, “my head’s coming in two.” + </p> + <p> + “Souse it in a pail of cold water, and walk off what you can’t get rid of; + after that, along with me,” suggested his friend. + </p> + <p> + Zack wisely took this advice. As they left Kirk Street for their walk, Mat + managed that they should shape their course so as to pass Valentine’s + house on their way to the fields. As he had anticipated, young Thorpe + proposed to call in for a minute, to see how Mr. Blyth was after the + festivities of the past night, and to ascertain if he still remained in + the same mind about making the drawing of Mat’s arms that evening. + </p> + <p> + “I suspect you didn’t brew the Squaw’s Mixture half as weak as you told us + you did,” said Zack slily, when they rang at the bell. “It wasn’t a bad + joke for once in a way. But really, Blyth is such a good kind-hearted + fellow, it seems too bad—in short, don’t let’s do it next time, + that’s all!” + </p> + <p> + Mat gruffly repudiated the slightest intention of deceiving their guest as + to the strength of the liquor he had drunk. They went into the Painting + Room, and found Mr. Blyth there, pale and penitent, but manfully preparing + to varnish The Golden Age, with a very trembling hand, and a very headachy + contraction of the eyebrows. + </p> + <p> + “Ah, Zack, Zack! I ought to lecture you about last night,” said Valentine; + “but I have no right to say a word, for I was much the worst of the two. + I’m wretchedly ill this morning, which is just what I deserve; and + heartily ashamed of myself, which is only what I ought to be. Look at my + hand! It’s all in a tremble like an old man’s. Not a thimbleful of spirits + shall ever pass my lips again: I’ll stick to lemonade and tea for the rest + of my life. No more Squaw’s Mixture for me! Not, my dear sir,” continued + Valentine, addressing Mat, who had been quietly stealing a glance at the + bureau, while the painter was speaking to young Thorpe. “Not, my dear sir, + that I think of blaming you, or doubt for a moment that the drink you + kindly mixed for me would have been considered quite weak and harmless by + people with stronger heads than mine. It was all my own fault, my own want + of proper thoughtfulness and caution. If I misconducted myself last night, + as I am afraid I did, pray make allowances—” + </p> + <p> + “Nonsense!” cried Zack, seeing that Mat was beginning to fidget away from + Valentine, instead of returning an answer. “Nonsense! you were glorious + company. We were three choice spirits, and you were number One of the + social Trio. Away with Melancholy! Do you still keep in the same mind + about drawing Mat’s arms? He will be delighted to come, and so shall I; + and we’ll all get virtuously uproarious this time, on toast-and-water and + tea.” + </p> + <p> + “Of course I keep in the same mind,” returned Mr. Blyth. “I had my senses + about me, at any rate, when I invited you and your friend here to-night. + Not that I shall be able to do much, I am afraid, in the way of drawing—for + a letter has come this morning to hurry me into the country. Another + portrait-job has turned up, and I shall have to start to-morrow. However, + I can get in the outline of your friend’s arms to-night, and leave the + rest to be done when I come back—Shall I take that sketch down for + you, my dear sir, to look at close?” continued Valentine, suddenly raising + his voice, and addressing himself to Mat. “I venture to think it one of my + most contentious studies from actual nature.” + </p> + <p> + While Mr. Blyth and Zack had been whispering together, Mat had walked away + from them quietly towards one end of the room, and was now standing close + to a door, lined inside with sheet iron, having bolts at top and bottom, + and leading down a flight of steps from the studio into the back garden. + Above this door hung a large chalk sketch of an old five-barred gate, + being the identical study from nature, which, as Valentine imagined, was + at that moment the special object of interest to Mat. + </p> + <p> + “No, no! don’t trouble to get the sketch now,” said Zack, once more + answering for his friend. “We are going out to get freshened up by a long + walk, and can’t stop. Now then, Mat; what on earth are you staring at? The + garden door, or the sketch of the five-barred gate?” + </p> + <p> + “The picter, in course,” answered Mat, with unusual quickness and + irritability. + </p> + <p> + “It shall be taken down for you to look at close to-night,” said Mr. + Blyth, delighted by the impression which the five-barred gate seemed to + have produced on the new visitor. + </p> + <p> + On leaving Mr. Blyth’s, young Thorpe and his companion turned down a lane + partially built over, which led past Valentine’s back garden wall. This + was their nearest way to the fields and to the high road into the country + beyond. Before they had taken six steps down the lane, Mat, who had been + incomprehensibly stolid and taciturn inside the house, became just as + incomprehensibly curious and talkative all on a sudden outside it. + </p> + <p> + In the first place, he insisted on mounting some planks lying under + Valentine’s wall (to be used for the new houses that were being built in + the lane), and peeping over to see what sort of garden the painter had. + Zack summarily pulled him down from his elevation by the coat-tails, but + not before his quick eye had traveled over the garden; had ascended the + steps leading from it to the studio; and had risen above them as high as + the brass handle of the door by which they were approached from the + painting-room. + </p> + <p> + In the second place, when he had been prevailed on to start fairly for the + walk, Mat began to ask questions with the same pertinacious + inquisitiveness which he had already displayed on the day of the + picture-show. He set out with wanting to know whether there were to be any + strange visitors at Mr. Blyth’s that evening; and then, on being reminded + that Valentine had expressly said at parting, “Nobody but ourselves,” + asked if they were likely to see the painter’s wife downstairs. After the + inquiry had of necessity been answered in the negative, he went on to a + third question, and desired to know whether “the young woman” (as he + persisted in calling Madonna) might be expected to stay upstairs with Mrs. + Blyth, or to show herself occasionally in the painting-room. Zack answered + this inquiry also in the negative—with a running accompaniment of + bad jokes, as usual. Madonna, except under extraordinary circumstances, + never came down into the studio in the evening, when Mr. Blyth had company + there. + </p> + <p> + Satisfied on these points, Mat now wanted to know at what time Mr. Blyth + and his family were accustomed to go to bed; and explained, when Zack + expressed astonishment at the inquiry, that he had only asked this + question in order to find out the hour at which it would be proper to take + leave of their host that night. On hearing this, young Thorpe answered as + readily and carelessly as usual, that the painter’s family were early + people, who went to bed before eleven o’clock; adding, that it was, of + course, particularly necessary to leave the studio in good time on the + occasion referred to, because Valentine would most probably start for the + country next day, by one of the morning trains. + </p> + <p> + Mat’s next question was preceded by a silence of a few minutes. Possibly + he was thinking in what terms he might best put it. If this were the case, + he certainly decided on using the briefest possible form of expression, + for when he spoke again, he asked in so many words, what sort of a woman + the painter’s wife was. + </p> + <p> + Zack characteristically answered the inquiry by a torrent of his most + superlative eulogies on Mrs. Blyth; and then, passing from the lady + herself to the chamber that she inhabited, wound up with a magnificent and + exaggerated description of the splendor of her room. + </p> + <p> + Mat listened to him attentively; then said he supposed Mrs. Blyth must be + fond of curiosities, and all sorts of “knick-knack things from foreign + parts.” Young Thorpe not only answered the question in the affirmative, + but added, as a private expression of his own opinion, that he believed + these said curiosities and “knick-knacks” had helped, in their way, to + keep her alive by keeping her amused. From this, he digressed to a long + narrative of poor Mrs. Blyth’s first illness; and having exhausted that + sad subject at last, ended by calling on his friend to change the + conversation to some less mournful topic. + </p> + <p> + But just at this point, it seemed that Mat was perversely determined to + let himself lapse into another silent fit. He not only made no attempt to + change the conversation, but entirely ceased asking questions; and, + indeed, hardly uttered another word of any kind, good or bad. Zack, after + vainly trying to rally him into talking, lit a cigar in despair, and the + two walked on together silently—Mat having his hands in his pockets, + keeping his eyes bent on the ground, and altogether burying himself, as it + were, from the outer world, in the inner-most recesses of a deep brown + study. + </p> + <p> + As they returned, and got near Kirk Street, Mat gradually began to talk + again, but only on indifferent subjects; asking no more questions about + Mr. Blyth, or any one else. They arrived at their lodgings at half-past + five o’clock. Zack went into the bed-room to wash his hands. While he was + thus engaged, Mat opened that leather bag of his which has been already + described as lying in the corner with the bear-skins, and taking out the + feather-fan and the Indian tobacco-pouch, wrapped them up separately in + paper. Having done this, he called to Zack; and, saying that he was about + to step over to the shaving shop to get his face scraped clean before + going to Mr. Blyth’s, left the house with his two packages in his hand. + </p> + <p> + “If the worst comes to the worst, I’ll chance it to-night with the + garden-door,” said Mat to himself, as he took the first turning that led + towards the second-hand iron shop. “This will do to get rid of the + painter-man with. And this will send Zack after him,” he added, putting + first the fan and then the tobacco-pouch into separate pockets of his + coat. A cunning smile hovered about his lips for a moment, as he disposed + of his two packages in this manner; but it passed away again almost + immediately, and was succeeded by a curious contraction and twitching of + the upper part of his face. He began muttering once again that name of + “Mary,” which had been often on his lips lately; and quickened his pace + mechanically, as it was always his habit to do when anything vexed or + disturbed him. + </p> + <p> + When he reached the shop, the hunchback was at the door, with the tin + tobacco-box in his hand. On this occasion, not a single word was exchanged + between the two. The squalid shopman, as the customer approached, rattled + something significantly inside the box, and then handed it to Mat; and Mat + put his finger and thumb into his waistcoat pocket, winked, nodded, and + handed some money to the squalid shopman. The brief ceremony of giving and + taking thus completed, these two originals turned away from each other + without a word of farewell; the hunchback returning to the counter, and + his customer proceeding to the shaving shop. + </p> + <p> + Mat opened the box for an instant, on his way to the barber’s; and, taking + out the false key, (which, though made of baser metal, was almost as + bright as the original), put it carefully into his waistcoat pocket. He + then stopped at an oil and candle shop, and bought a wax taper and a box + of matches. “The garden door’s safest: I’ll chance it with the + garden-door,” thought Mat, as he sat down in the shaving-shop chair, and + ordered the barber to operate on his chin. + </p> + <p> + Punctually at seven o’clock Mr. Blyth’s visitors rang at his bell. + </p> + <p> + When they entered the studio, they found Valentine all ready for them, + with his drawing-board at his side, and his cartoon-sketch for the + proposed new picture of Hercules bringing to King Eurystheus the + Erymanthian Boar, lying rolled up at feet. He said he had got rid of his + headache, and felt perfectly well now; but Zack observed that he was not + in his good spirits. Mat, on his side, observed nothing but the garden + door, towards which he lounged carelessly as soon as the first salutations + were over. + </p> + <p> + “This way, my dear sir,” said Valentine, walking after him. “I have taken + down the drawing you were so good as to admire this morning, as I said I + would. Here it is on this painting-stand, if you would like to look at + it.” + </p> + <p> + Mat, whose first glance at the garden door had assured him that it was + bolted and locked for the night, wheeled round immediately: and, to Mr. + Blyth’s great delight, inspected the sketch of the old five-barred gate + with the most extraordinary and flattering attention. “Wants doing up, + don’t it?” said Mat, referring to the picturesquely-ruinous original of + the gate represented. “Yes, indeed,” answered Valentine, thinking he spoke + of the creased and ragged condition of the paper on which the sketch was + made; “a morsel of paste and a sheet of fresh paper to stretch it on, + would make quite another thing of it.” Mat stared. “Paste and paper for a + five-barred gate? A nice carpenter <i>you</i> would make!” he felt + inclined to say. Zack, however, spoke at that moment: so he left the + sketch, and wisely held his tongue. + </p> + <p> + “Now, then, Mat, strip to your chest, and put your arms in any position + Blyth tells you. Remember, you are going to be drawn as Hercules; and mind + you look as if you were bringing the Erymanthian Boar to King Eurystheus, + for the rest of the evening,” said young Thorpe, composedly warming + himself at the fire. + </p> + <p> + While Mat awkwardly, and with many expressions of astonishment at the + strange piece of service required from him by his host, divested himself + of his upper garments, Valentine unrolled on the floor the paper cartoon + of his classical composition; and, having refreshed his memory from it, + put his model forthwith into the position of Hercules, with a chair to + hold instead of an Erymanthian Boar, and Zack to look at as the only + available representative of King Eurystheus. This done, Mr. Blyth wasted + some little time, as usual, before he began to work, in looking for his + drawing materials. In the course of his search over the littered studio + table, he accidentally laid his hand on two envelopes with enclosures, + which, after examining the addresses, he gave immediately to young Thorpe. + </p> + <p> + “Here, Zack,” he said, “these belong to you. The large envelope contains + your permission to draw at the British Museum. The small one has a letter + of introduction inside, presenting you, with my best recommendations, to + my friend, Mr. Strather, a very pleasing artist, and the Curator of an + excellent private Drawing Academy. You had better call tomorrow, before + eleven. Mr. Strather will go with you to the Museum, and show you how to + begin, and will introduce you to his drawing academy the same evening. + Pray, pray, Zack, be steady and careful. Remember all you have promised + your mother and me; and show us that you are now really determined to + study the Art in good earnest.” + </p> + <p> + Zack expressed great gratitude for his friend’s kindness, and declared, + with the utmost fervor of voice and manner, that he would repair all his + past faults by unflagging future industry as a student of Art. After a + little longer delay Valentine at last collected his drawing materials, and + fairly began to work; Mat displaying from the first the most extraordinary + and admirable steadiness as a model. But, while the work of the studio + thus proceeded with all the smoothness and expedition that could be + desired, the incidental conversation by no means kept pace with it. In + spite of all that young Thorpe could say or do, the talk lagged more and + more, and grew duller and duller. Valentine was evidently out of spirits, + and the Hercules of the evening had stolidly abandoned himself to the most + inveterate silence. At length Zack gave up all further effort to be + sociable, and left the painting-room to go up stairs and visit the ladies. + Mat looked after him as he quitted the studio, and seemed about to speak—then + glancing aside at the bureau, checked himself suddenly, and did not utter + a word. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Blyth’s present depression of spirits was not entirely attributable to + a certain ominous reluctance to leave home, which he had been vainly + trying to shake off since the morning. He had a secret reason for his + uneasiness which happened to be intimately connected with the model, whose + Herculean chest and arms he was now busily engaged in drawing. + </p> + <p> + The plain fact was, that Mr. Blyth’s tender conscience smote him sorely, + when he remembered the trust Mrs. Thorpe placed in his promised + supervision over her son, and when he afterwards reflected that he still + knew as little of Zack’s strange companion, as Zack did himself. His visit + to Kirk Street, undertaken for the express purpose of guarding the lad’s + best interests by definitely ascertaining who Mr. Mathew Marksman really + was, had ended in—what he was now ashamed to dwell over, or even to + call to mind. “Dear, dear me!” thought Mr. Blyth, while he worked away + silently at the outline of his drawing, “I ought to find out whether this + very friendly, good-natured, and useful man is fit to be trusted with + Zack; and now the lad is out of the room, I might very well do it. Might? + I will!” And, acting immediately on this conscientious resolve, + simple-hearted Mr. Blyth actually set himself to ask Mat the important + question of who he really was! + </p> + <p> + Mat was candor itself in answering all inquiries that related to his + wanderings over the American Continent. He confessed with the utmost + frankness that he had been sent to sea, as a wild boy whom it was + impossible to keep steady at home; and he quite readily admitted that he + had not introduced himself to Zack under his real name. But at this point + his communicativeness stopped. He did not quibble, or prevaricate; he just + bluntly and simply declared that he would tell nothing more than he had + told already. + </p> + <p> + “I said to the young ‘un,” concluded Mat, “when we first come together, ‘I + haven’t heard the sound of my own name for better than twenty year past; + and I don’t care if I never hear it again.’ That’s what I said to <i>him.</i> + That’s what I say to <i>you.</i> I’m a rough ‘un, I know; but I hav’n’t + broke out of prison, or cheated the gallows—” + </p> + <p> + “My dear sir,” interposed Valentine, eagerly and alarmedly, “pray don’t + imagine any such offensive ideas ever entered my head! I might perhaps + have thought that family troubles—” + </p> + <p> + “That’s it,” Mat broke in quickly. “Family troubles. Drop it there; and + you’ll leave it right.” + </p> + <p> + Before Mr. Blyth could make any attempt to shift the conversation to some + less delicate topic, he was interrupted (to his own great relief) by the + return of young Thorpe to the studio. + </p> + <p> + Zack announced the approaching arrival of the supper-tray; and warned + “Hercules” to cover up his neck and shoulders immediately, unless he + wished to frighten the housemaid out of her wits. At this hint Mr. Blyth + laid aside his drawing-board, and Mat put on his flannel waistcoat; not + listening the while to one word of the many fervent expressions of + gratitude addressed to him by the painter, but appearing to be in a + violent hurry to array himself in his coat again. As soon as he had got it + on, he put his hand in one of the pockets, and looked hard at Valentine. + Just then, however, the servant came in with the tray; upon which he + turned round impatiently, and walked away once again to the lower end of + the room. + </p> + <p> + When the door had closed on the departing housemaid, he returned to Mr. + Blyth with the feather fan in his hand; and saying, in his usual downright + way, that he had heard from Zack of Mrs. Blyth’s invalid condition and of + her fondness for curiosities, bluntly asked the painter if he thought his + wife would like such a fan as that now produced. + </p> + <p> + “I got this plaything for a woman in the old country, many a long year + ago,” said Mat, pressing the fan roughly into Mr. Blyth’s hands. “When I + come back, and thought for to give it her, she was dead and gone. There’s + not another woman in England as cares about me, or knows about me. If + you’re too proud to let your wife have the thing, throw it into the fire. + I hav’n’t got nobody to give it to; and I can’t keep it by me, and won’t + keep it by me, no longer.” + </p> + <p> + In the utterance of these words there was a certain rough pathos and + bitter reference to past calamity, which touched Valentine in one of his + tender places. His generous instincts overcame his prudent doubts in a + moment; and moved him, not merely to accept the present, but also to + predict warmly that Mrs. Blyth would be delighted with it. + </p> + <p> + “Zack,” he said, speaking in an undertone to young Thorpe, who had been + listening to Mat’s last speech, and observing his production of the fan, + in silent curiosity and surprise. “Zack, I’ll run up stairs with the fan + to Lavvie at once, so as not to seem careless about your friend’s gift. + Mind you do the honors of the supper table with proper hospitality, while + I am away.” + </p> + <p> + Speaking these words, Mr. Blyth bustled out of the room as nimbly as + usual. A minute or two after his departure, Mat put his hand into his + pocket once more; mysteriously approached young Thorpe, and opened before + him the paper containing the Indian tobacco pouch, which was made of + scarlet cloth, and was very prettily decorated with colored beads. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think the young woman would fancy this for a kind of plaything?” + he asked. + </p> + <p> + Zack, with a shout of laughter, snatched the pouch out of his hands, and + began to rally his friend more unmercifully than ever. For the first time, + Mat seemed to be irritated by the boisterous merriment of which he was + made the object; and cut his tormentor short quite fiercely, with a frown + and an oath. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t lose your temper, you amorous old savage!” cried Zack, with + incorrigible levity. “I’ll take your pouch upstairs to the Beloved Object; + and, if Blyth will let her have it, I’ll bring her down here to thank you + for it herself!” Saying this, young Thorpe ran laughing out of the room, + with the scarlet pouch in his hand. + </p> + <p> + Mat listened intently till the sound of Zack’s rapid footsteps died away + upstairs—then walked quickly and softly down the studio to the + garden door—gently unlocked it—gently drew the bolts back—gently + opened it, and ascertained that it could also be opened from without, + merely by turning the handle—then, quietly closing it again, left + it, to all appearance, as fast for the night as before; provided no one + went near enough, or had sufficiently sharp eyes, to observe that it was + neither bolted nor locked. + </p> + <p> + “Now for the big chest!” thought Mat, taking the false key out of his + pocket, and hastening back to the bureau. “If Zack or the Painter Man come + down before I’ve time to get at the drawer inside, I’ve made sure of my + second chance with the garden door.” + </p> + <p> + He had the key in the lock of the bureau, as this thought passed through + his mind. He was just about to turn it, when the sound of + rapidly-descending footsteps upon the stairs struck on his quick ear. + </p> + <p> + “Too late!” muttered Mat. “I must chance it, after all, with the garden + door.” + </p> + <p> + Putting the key into his pocket again, as he said this, he walked back to + the fireplace. The moment after he got there, Mr. Blyth entered the + studio. + </p> + <p> + “I am quite shocked that you should have been so unceremoniously left + alone,” said Valentine, whose naturally courteous nature prompted him to + be just as scrupulously polite in his behavior to his rough guest, as if + Mat had been a civilized gentleman of the most refined feeling and the + most exalted rank. “I am so sorry you should have been left, through + Zack’s carelessness, without anybody to ask you to take a little supper,” + continued Valentine, turning to the table. “Mrs. Blyth, my dear sir (do + take a sandwich!), desires me to express her best thanks for your very + pretty present (that is the brandy in the bottle next to you). She admires + the design (spongecake? Ah! you don’t care about sweets), and thinks the + color of the center feathers—” + </p> + <p> + At this moment the door opened, and Mr. Blyth, abruptly closing his lips, + looked towards it with an expression of the blankest astonishment; for he + beheld Madonna entering the painting-room in company with Zack. + </p> + <p> + Valentine had been persuaded to let the deaf and dumb girl accept the + scarlet pouch by his wife; but neither she nor Zack had said a word before + him upstairs about taking Madonna into the studio. When the painter was + well out of earshot, young Thorpe had confided to Mrs. Blyth the new freak + in which he wanted to engage; and, signing unscrupulously to Madonna that + she was wanted in the studio, to be presented to the “generous man who had + given her the tobacco-pouch,” took her out of the room without stopping to + hear to the end the somewhat faint remonstrance by which his proposition + was met. To confess the truth, Mrs. Blyth—seeing no great + impropriety in the girl’s being introduced to the stranger, while + Valentine was present in the room, and having moreover a very strong + curiosity to hear all she could about Zack’s odd companion—was + secretly anxious to ascertain what impressions Madonna would bring away of + Mat’s personal appearance and manners. And thus it was that Zack, by + seizing his opportunity at the right moment, and exerting a little of that + cool assurance in which he was never very deficient, now actually entered + the painting-room in a glow of mischievous triumph with Madonna on his + arm. + </p> + <p> + Valentine gave him a look as he entered which he found it convenient not + to appear to see. The painter felt strongly inclined, at that moment, to + send his adopted child upstairs again directly; but he restrained himself + out of a feeling of delicacy towards his guest—for Mat had not only + seen Madonna, but had hesitatingly advanced a step or two to meet her, the + instant she came into the room. + </p> + <p> + Few social tests for analyzing female human nature can be more safely + relied on than that which the moral investigator may easily apply, by + observing how a woman conducts herself towards a man who shows symptoms of + confusion on approaching her for the first time. If she has nothing at all + in her, she awkwardly forgets the advantage of her sex, and grows more + confused than he is. If she has nothing but brains in her, she cruelly + abuses the advantage, and treats him with quiet contempt. If she has + plenty of heart in her, she instinctively turns the advantage to its right + use, and forthwith sets him at his ease by the timely charity of a word or + the mute encouragement of a look. + </p> + <p> + Now Madonna, perceiving that the stranger showed evident signs, on + approaching her, of what appeared like confusion to her apprehension, + quietly drew her arm out of Zack’s, and, to his unmeasured astonishment, + stepped forward in front of him—looked up brightly into the grim, + scarred face of Mat—dropped her usual curtsey—wrote a line + hurriedly on her slate—then offered it to him with a smile and a + nod, to read if he pleased, and to write on in return. + </p> + <p> + “Who would ever have thought it?” cried Zack, giving vent to his + amazement; “she has taken to old Rough and Tough, and made him a prime + favorite at first sight!” + </p> + <p> + Valentine was standing near, but he did not appear to hear this speech. He + was watching the scene before him closely and curiously. Accustomed as he + was to the innocent candor with which the deaf and dumb girl always showed + her approval or dislike of strangers at a first interview—as also to + her apparent perversity in often displaying a decided liking for the very + people whose looks and manners had been previously considered certain to + displease her—he was now almost as much surprised as Zack, when he + witnessed her reception of Mat. It was an infallible sign of Madonna’s + approval, if she followed up an introduction by handing her slate of her + own accord to a stranger. When she was presented to people whom she + disliked, she invariably kept it by her side until it was formally asked + for. + </p> + <p> + Eccentric in everything else, Mat was consistently eccentric even in his + confusion. Some men who are bashful in a young lady’s presence show it by + blushing—Mat’s color sank instead of rising. Other men, similarly + affected, betray their burdensome modesty by fidgeting incessantly.—Mat + was as still as a statue. His eyes wandered heavily and vacantly over the + girl, beginning with her soft brown hair, then resting for a moment on her + face, then descending to the gay pink ribbon on her breast, and to her + crisp black silk apron with its smart lace pockets—then dropping at + last to her neat little shoes, and to the thin bright line of white + stocking that just separated them from the hem of her favorite grey dress. + He only looked up again, when she touched his hand and put her slate + pencil into it. At that signal he raised his eyes once more, read the line + she had written to thank him for the scarlet pouch, and tried to write + something in return. But his hand shook, and his thoughts seemed to fail + him, he gave her back the slate and pencil, looking her full in the eyes + as he did so. A curious change came over his face at the same time—a + change like that which had altered him so remarkably in the hosier’s shop + at Dibbledean. + </p> + <p> + “Zack might, after all, have made many a worse friend than this man,” + thought Mr. Blyth, still attentively observing Mat. “Vagabonds don’t + behave in the presence of young girls as he is behaving now.” + </p> + <p> + With this idea in his mind, Valentine advanced to help his guest by + showing Mat how to communicate with Madonna. The painter was interrupted, + however, by young Thorpe, who, the moment he recovered from his first + sensations of surprise began to talk nonsense again, at the top of his + voice, with the mischievous intention of increasing Mat’s embarrassment. + </p> + <p> + While Mr. Blyth was attempting to silence Zack by leading him to the + supper table, Madonna was trying her best to reassure the great bulky, + sunburnt man who seemed to be absolutely afraid of her! She moved to a + stool, which stood near a second table in a corner by the fireplace; and + sitting down, produced the scarlet pouch, intimating by a gesture that Mat + was to look at what she was now doing. She then laid the pouch open on her + lap, and put into it several little work-box toys, a Tonbridge silk-reel, + an ivory needle case, a silver thimble with an enameled rim, a tiny pair + of scissors, and other things of the same kind—which she took first + from one pocket of her apron and then from another. While she was engaged + in filling the pouch, Zack, standing at the supper-table, drummed on the + floor with his foot to attract her attention, and interrogatively held up + a decanter of wine and a glass. She started as the sound struck on her + delicate nerves; and, looking at young Thorpe directly, signed that she + did not wish for any wine. The sudden movement of her body thus + occasioned, shook off her lap a little mother-of-pearl bodkin case, which + lay more than half out of one of the pockets of her apron. The bodkin case + rolled under the stool, without her seeing it, for she was looking towards + the supper-table: without being observed by Mat, for his eyes were + following the direction of her’s: without being heard by Mr. Blyth, for + Zack was, as usual, chattering and making a noise. + </p> + <p> + When she had put two other little toys that remained in her pockets into + the pouch, she drew the mouth of it tight, passed the loops of the loose + thongs that fastened it, over one of her arms, and then, rising to her + feet, pointed to it, and looked at Mat with a very significant nod. The + action expressed the idea she wished to communicate, plainly enough:—“See,” + it seemed to say, “see what a pretty work-bag I can make of your + tobacco-pouch!” + </p> + <p> + But Mat, to all appearance, was not able to find out the meaning of one of + her gestures, easy as they were to interpret. His senses seemed to grow + more and more perturbed the longer he looked at her. As she curtseyed to + him again, and moved away in despair, he stepped forward a little, and + suddenly and awkwardly held out his hand. “The big man seems to be getting + a little less afraid of me,” thought Madonna, turning directly, and + meeting his clumsy advance towards her, with a smile. But the instant he + took her hand, her lips closed, and she shivered through her whole body as + if dead fingers had touched her. “Oh!” she thought now, “how cold his hand + is! how cold his hand is!” + </p> + <p> + “If I hadn’t felt her warm to touch, I should have been dreaming to-night + that I’d seen Mary’s ghost.” This was the grim fancy which darkly troubled + Mat’s mind, at the very same moment when Madonna was thinking how cold his + hand was. He turned away impatiently from some wine offered to him just + then by Zack; and, looking vacantly into the fire, drew his coat-cuff + several times over his eyes and forehead. + </p> + <p> + The chill from the strange man’s hand still lingered icily about Madonna’s + fingers, and made her anxious, though she hardly knew why, to leave the + room. She advanced hastily to Valentine, and made the sign which indicated + Mrs. Blyth, by laying her hand on her heart; she then pointed up-stairs. + Valentine, understanding what she wanted, gave her leave directly to + return to his wife’s room. Before Zack could make even a gesture to detain + her, she had slipped out of the studio, after not having remained in it + much longer than five minutes. + </p> + <p> + “Zack,” whispered Mr. Blyth, as the door closed, “I am anything but + pleased with you for bringing Madonna down-stairs. You have broken through + all rule in doing so; and, besides that, you have confused your friend by + introducing her to him without any warning or preparation.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that doesn’t matter,” interrupted young Thorpe. “He’s not the sort of + man to want warning about anything. I apologize for breaking rules; but as + for Mat—why, hang it, Blyth, it’s plain enough what has been wrong + with him since supper came in! He’s fairly knocked up with doing Hercules + for you. You have kept the poor old Guy for near two hours standing in one + position, without a rag on his back; and then you wonder—” + </p> + <p> + “Bless my soul! that never occurred to me. I’m afraid you’re right,” + exclaimed Valentine. “Do let us make him take something hot and + comfortable! Dear, dear me! how ought one to mix grog?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Blyth had been for some little time past trying his best to compound a + species of fiery and potential Squaw’s Mixture for Mat. He had begun the + attempt some minutes before Madonna left the studio; having found it + useless to offer any explanations to his inattentive guest of the meaning + of the girl’s signs and gestures with the slate and tobacco-pouch. He had + persevered in his hospitable endeavor all through the whispered dialogue + which had just passed between Zack and himself; and he had now filled the + glass nearly to the brim, when it suddenly occurred to him that he had put + sherry in at the top of the tumbler, after having begun with brandy at the + bottom; also that he had altogether forgotten some important ingredient + which he was, just then, perfectly incapable of calling to mind. + </p> + <p> + “Here, Mat!” cried Zack. “Come and mix yourself something hot. Blyth’s + been trying to do it for you, and can’t.” + </p> + <p> + Mat, who had been staring more and more vacantly into the fire all this + time, turned round again at last towards his friends at the supper table. + He started a little when he saw that Madonna was no longer in the room—then + looked aside from the door by which she had departed, to the bureau. He + had been pretty obstinately determined to get possession of the Hair + Bracelet from the first: but he was doubly and trebly determined now. + </p> + <p> + “It’s no use looking about for the young lady,” said Zack; “you behaved so + clumsily and queerly, that you frightened her out of the room.” + </p> + <p> + “No! no! nothing of the sort,” interposed Valentine, good-naturedly. “Pray + take something to warm you. I am quite ashamed of my want of consideration + in keeping you standing so long, when I ought to have remembered that you + were not used to being a painter’s model. I hope I have not given you cold—” + </p> + <p> + “Given me cold?” repeated Mat, amazedly. He seemed about to add a + sufficiently indignant assertion of his superiority to any such civilized + bodily weakness, as a liability to catch cold—but just as the words + were on his lips, he looked fixedly at Mr. Blyth, and checked himself. + </p> + <p> + “I am afraid you must be tired with the long sitting you have so kindly + given me,” added Valentine. + </p> + <p> + “No,” answered Mat, after a moment’s consideration; “not tired. Only + sleepy. I’d best go home. What’s o’clock?” + </p> + <p> + A reference to young Thorpe’s watch showed that it was ten minutes past + ten. Mat held out his hand directly to take leave; but Valentine + positively refused to let him depart until he had helped himself to + something from the supper-table. Hearing this, he poured out a glass of + brandy and drank it off; then held out his hand once more, and said good + night. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I won’t press you to stay against your will,” said Mr. Blyth, + rather mournfully. “I will only thank you most heartily for your kindness + in sitting to me, and say that I hope to see you again when I return from + the country. Good bye, Zack. I shall start in the morning by an early + train. Pray, my dear boy, be steady, and remember your mother and your + promises, and call on Mr. Strather in good time to-morrow, and stick to + your work, Zack—for all our sakes, stick to your work!” + </p> + <p> + As they left the studio, Mat cast one parting glance at the garden door. + Would the servant, who had most likely bolted and locked it early in the + evening, go near it again, before she went to bed? Would Mr. Blyth walk to + the bottom of the room to see that the door was safe, after he had raked + the fire out? Important questions these, which only the events of the + night could answer. + </p> + <p> + A little way down Kirk Street, at the end by which Zack and his friend + entered it on returning from Mr. Blyth’s, stood the local theater—all + ablaze with dazzling gas, and all astir with loitering blackguards. Young + Thorpe stopped, as he and his companion passed under the portico, on the + way to their lodgings further up the street. + </p> + <p> + “It’s only half-past ten, now,” he said. “I shall drop in here, and see + the last scenes of the pantomime. Won’t you come too?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Mat; “I’m too sleepy. I shall go on home.” + </p> + <p> + They separated. While Zack entered the theater, Mat proceeded steadily in + the direction of the tobacco shop. As soon, however, as he was well out of + the glare of gas from the theater door, he crossed the street; and, + returning quickly by the opposite side of the way, took the road that led + him back to Valentine’s house. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XII. THE HAIR BRACELET. + </h2> + <p> + Mr. Blyth’s spirits sank apace, as he bolted and locked the front door, + when his guests had left him. He actually sighed as he now took a turn or + two alone, up and down the studio. + </p> + <p> + Three times did he approach close to the garden door, as he walked slowly + from end to end of the room. But he never once looked up at it. His + thoughts were wandering after Zack, and Zack’s friend; and his attention + was keeping them company. “Whoever this mysterious Mat may be,” mused + Valentine, stopping at the fourth turn, and walking up to the fireplace; + “I don’t believe there’s anything bad about him; and so I shall tell Mrs. + Thorpe the next time I see her.” + </p> + <p> + He set himself to rake out the fire, leaving only a few red embers and + tiny morsels of coal to flame up fitfully from time to time in the bottom + of the grate. Having done this, he stood and warmed himself for a little + while, and tried to whistle a favorite tune. The attempt was a total + failure. He broke down at the third bar, and ended lamentably in another + sigh. + </p> + <p> + “What can be the matter with me? I never felt so miserable about going + away from home before.” Puzzling himself uselessly with such reflections + as these, he went to the supper-table, and drank a glass of wine, picked a + bit of a sandwich, and unnecessarily spoilt the appearance of two sponge + cakes, by absently breaking a small piece off each of them. He was in no + better humor for eating or drinking, than for whistling; so he wisely + determined to light his candle forthwith, and go to bed. + </p> + <p> + After extinguishing the lights that had been burning on the supper-table, + he cast a parting glance all round the room, and was then about to leave + it, when the drawing of the old five-barred gate, which he had taken down + for Mat to look at, and had placed on a painting-stand at the lower end of + the studio, caught his eye. He advanced towards it directly—stopped + half-way—hesitated—yawned—shivered a little—thought + to himself that it was not worth while to trouble about hanging the + drawing up over the garden door, that night—and so, yawning again, + turned on his heel and left the studio. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Blyth’s two servants slept up-stairs. About ten minutes after their + master had ascended to his bed-room, they left the kitchen for their + dormitory on the garret floor. Patty, the housemaid, stopped as she passed + the painting room, to look in, and see that the lights were out, and the + fire safe for the night. Polly, the cook, went on with the bedroom candle; + and, after having ascended the stairs as far as the first landing from the + hall, discreetly bethought herself of the garden door, the general care + and superintendence of which was properly attached to her department in + the household. + </p> + <p> + “I say, did you lock the garden door?” said Polly to Patty through the + banisters. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; I did it when I took up master’s tea,” said Patty to Polly, + appearing lazily in the hall, after one sleepy look round the + fast-darkening studio. + </p> + <p> + “Hadn’t you better see to it again, to make sure?” suggested the cautious + cook. + </p> + <p> + “Hadn’t <i>you?</i> It’s <i>your</i> place,” retorted the careless + house-maid. + </p> + <p> + “Hush!” whispered Valentine, suddenly appearing on the landing above + Polly, from his bedroom, arrayed in his flannel dressing-gown and + nightcap. “Don’t talk here, or you’ll disturb your mistress. Go up to bed, + and talk there. Good night.” + </p> + <p> + “Good night, sir,” answered together the two faithful female dependents of + the house of Blyth, obeying their master’s order with simpering docility, + and deferring to a future opportunity all further considerations connected + with the garden door. + </p> + <p> + The fire was fading out fast in the studio grate. Now and then, at long + intervals, a thin tongue of flame leapt up faintly against the + ever-invading gloom, flickered for an instant over the brighter and more + prominent objects in the room, then dropped back again into darkness. The + profound silence was only interrupted by those weird house-noises which + live in the death of night and die in the life of day; by that sudden + crackling in the wall, by that mysterious creaking in the furniture, by + those still small ghostly sounds from inanimate bodies, which we have all + been startled by, over and over again, while lingering at our book after + the rest of the family are asleep in bed, while waiting up for a friend + who is out late, or while watching alone through the dark hours in a sick + chamber. Excepting such occasional night-noises as these, so familiar, yet + always so strange, the perfect tranquillity of the studio remained + undisturbed for nearly an hour after Mr. Blyth had left it. No neighbors + came home in cabs, no bawling drunken men wandered into the remote country + fastnesses of the new suburb. The night-breeze, blowing in from the + fields, was too light to be audible. The watch-dog in the nurseryman’s + garden hard by, was as quiet on this particular night as if he had + actually barked himself dumb at last. Outside the house, as well as + inside, the drowsy reign of old primeval Quiet was undisturbed by the + innovating vagaries of the rebel, Noise. + </p> + <p> + Undisturbed, till the clock in the hall pointed to a quarter past eleven. + Then there came softly and slowly up the iron stairs that led from the + back garden to the studio, a sound of footsteps. When these ceased, the + door at the lower end of the room was opened gently from outside, and the + black bulky figure of Mat appeared on the threshold, lowering out gloomily + against a back-ground of starry sky. + </p> + <p> + He stepped into the painting-room, and closed the door quietly behind him; + stood listening anxiously in the darkness for a moment or two; then + pulling from his pocket the wax taper and the matches which he had bought + that afternoon, immediately provided himself with a light. + </p> + <p> + While the wick of the taper was burning up, he listened again. Except the + sound of his own heavy breathing, all was quiet around him. He advanced at + once to the bureau, starting involuntarily as he brushed by Mr. Blyth’s + lay figure with the Spanish hat and the Roman toga; and cursing it under + his breath for standing in his way, as if it had been a living creature. + The door leading from the studio into the passage of the house was not + quite closed; but he never noticed this as he passed to the bureau, though + it stood close to the chink left between the door and the post. He had the + false key in his hand; he knew that he should be in possession of the Hair + Bracelet in another moment; and, his impatience for once getting the + better of his cunning, he pounced on the bureau, without looking aside + first either to the right or the left. + </p> + <p> + He had unlocked it, had pulled open the inner drawer, had taken out the + Hair Bracelet, and was just examining it closely by the light of his taper + (after having locked the bureau again)—when a faint sound on the + staircase of the house caught his ear. + </p> + <p> + At the same instant, a thin streak of candle-light flashed on him through + the narrow chink between the hardly-closed door and the doorpost. It + increased rapidly in intensity, as the sound of softly-advancing footsteps + now grew more and more distinct from the stone passage leading to the + interior of the house. + </p> + <p> + He had the presence of mind to extinguish his taper, to thrust the Hair + Bracelet into his pocket, and to move across softly from the bureau (which + stood against the lock-side doorpost) to the wall (which was by the + hinge-side doorpost); so that the door itself might open back upon him, + and thus keep him concealed from the view of any person entering the room. + He had the presence of mind to take these precautions instantly; but he + had not self-control enough to suppress the involuntary exclamation which + burst from his lips, at the moment when the thin streak of candle-light + first flashed into his eyes. A violent spasmodic action contracted the + muscles of his throat. He clenched his fist in a fury of suppressed rage + against himself, as he felt that his own voice had turned traitor and + betrayed him. + </p> + <p> + The light came close: the door opened—opened gently, till it just + touched him as he stood with his back against the wall. + </p> + <p> + For one instant his heart stopped; the next, it burst into action again + with a heave, and the blood rushed hotly through every vein all over him, + as his wrought-up nerves of mind and body relaxed together under a sense + of ineffable relief. He was saved almost by a miracle from the inevitable + consequence of the rash exclamation that had escaped him. It was Madonna + who had opened the door—it was the deaf and dumb girl whom he now + saw walking into the studio. + </p> + <p> + She had been taking her working materials out of the tobacco-pouch in her + own room before going to bed, and had then missed her mother-of-pearl + bodkin-case. Suspecting immediately that she must have dropped it in the + studio, and fearing that it might be trodden on and crushed if she left it + there until the next morning, she had now stolen downstairs by herself to + look for it. Her hair, not yet put up for the night, was combed back from + her face, and hung lightly down in long silky folds over her shoulders. + Her complexion looked more exquisitely clear and pure than ever, set off + as it was by the white dressing-gown which now clothed her. She had a + pretty little red and blue china candlestick, given to her by Mrs. Blyth, + in her hand; and, holding the light above her, advanced slowly from the + studio doorway, with her eyes bent on the ground, searching anxiously for + the missing bodkin-case. + </p> + <p> + Mat’s resolution was taken the moment he caught sight of her. He never + stirred an inch from his place of concealment, until she had advanced + three or four paces into the room, and had her back turned full upon him. + Then quietly stepping a little forward from the door, but still keeping + well behind her, he blew out her candle, just as she was raising it over + her head, and looking down intently on the floor in front of her. + </p> + <p> + He had calculated, rightly enough, on being able to execute this maneuver + with impunity from discovery, knowing that she was incapable of hearing + the sound of his breath when he blew her candle out, and that the darkness + would afterwards not only effectually shield him from detection, but also + oblige her to leave him alone in the room again, while she went to get + another light. He had not calculated, however, on the serious effect which + the success of his stratagem would have upon her nerves, for he knew + nothing of the horror which the loss of her sense of hearing caused her + always to feel when she was left in darkness; and he had not stopped to + consider that by depriving her of her light, he was depriving her of that + all-important guiding sense of sight, the loss of which she could not + supply in the dark, as others could, by the exercise of the ear. + </p> + <p> + The instant he blew her candle out, she dropped the china candlestick, in + a paroxysm of terror. It fell, and broke, with a deadened sound, on one of + the many portfolios lying on the floor about her. He had hardly time to + hear this happen, before the dumb moaning, the inarticulate cry of fear + which was all that the poor panic-stricken girl could utter, rose low, + shuddering, and ceaseless, in the darkness—so close at his ear, that + he fancied he could feel her breath palpitating quick and warm on his + cheek. + </p> + <p> + If she should touch him? If she should be sensible of the motion of <i>his</i> + foot on the floor, as she had been sensible of the motion of Zack’s, when + young Thorpe offered her the glass of wine at supper-time? It was a risk + to remain still—it was a risk to move! He stood as helpless even as + the helpless creature near him. That low, ceaseless, dumb moaning, smote + so painfully on his heart, roused up so fearfully the rude superstitious + fancies lying in wait within him, in connection with the lost and dead + Mary Grice, that the sweat broke out on his face, the coldness of sharp + mental suffering seized on his limbs, the fever of unutterable expectation + parched up his throat, and mouth, and lips; and for the first time, + perhaps, in his existence, he felt the chillness of mortal dread running + through him to his very soul—he, who amid perils of seas and + wildernesses, and horrors of hunger and thirst, had played familiarly with + his own life for more than twenty years past, as a child plays familiarly + with an old toy. + </p> + <p> + He knew not how long it was before the dumb moaning seemed to grow + fainter; to be less fearfully close to him; to change into what sounded, + at one moment, like a shivering of her whole body; at another, like a + rustling of her garments; at a third, like a slow scraping of her hands + over the table on the other side of her, and of her feet over the floor. + She had summoned courage enough at last to move, and to grope her way out—he + knew it as he listened. He heard her touch the edge of the half-opened + door; he heard the still sound of her first footfall on the stone passage + outside; then the noise of her hand drawn along the wall; then the + lessening gasps of her affrighted breathing as she gained the stairs. + </p> + <p> + When she was gone, and the change and comfort of silence and solitude + stole over him, his power of thinking, his cunning and resolution began to + return. Listening yet a little while, and hearing no sound of any + disturbance among the sleepers in the house, he ventured to light one of + his matches; and, by the brief flicker that it afforded, picked his way + noiselessly through the lumber in the studio, and gained the garden door. + In a minute he was out again in the open air. In a minute more, he had got + over the garden wall, and was walking freely along the lonely road of the + new suburb, with the Hair Bracelet safe in his pocket. + </p> + <p> + At first, he did not attempt to take it out and examine it. He had not + felt the slightest scruple beforehand; he did not feel the slightest + remorse now, in connection with the Bracelet, and with his manner of + obtaining possession of it. Callous, however, as he was in this direction, + he was sensitive in another. There was both regret and repentance in him, + as he thought of the deaf and dumb girl, and of the paroxysm of terror he + had caused her. How patiently and prettily she had tried to explain to him + her gratitude for his gift, and the use she meant to put it to; and how + cruelly he had made her suffer in return! “I wish I hadn’t frighted her + so,” said Mat to himself; thinking of this in his own rough way, as he + walked rapidly homewards. “I wish I hadn’t frighted her so.” + </p> + <p> + But his impatience to examine the Bracelet got the better of his + repentance, as it had already got the better of every other thought and + feeling in him. He stopped under a gas lamp, and drew his prize out of his + pocket. He could see that it was made of two kinds of hair, and that + something was engraved on the flat gold of the clasp. But his hand shook, + his eyes were dimmer than usual, the light was too high above him, and try + as he might he could make out nothing clearly. + </p> + <p> + He put the Bracelet into his pocket again, and, muttering to himself + impatiently, made for Kirk Street at his utmost speed. His landlord’s wife + happened to be in the passage when he opened the door. Without the + ceremony of a single preliminary word, he astonished her by taking her + candle out of her hand, and instantly disappearing up-stairs with it. Zack + had not come from the theater—he had the lodgings to himself—he + could examine the Hair Bracelet in perfect freedom. + </p> + <p> + His first look was at the clasp. By holding it close to the flame of the + candle, he succeeded in reading the letters engraved on it. + </p> + <p> + “M. G. In memory of S. G.” + </p> + <p> + <i>“Mary Grice. In memory of Susan Grice.”</i> Mat’s hand closed fast on + the Bracelet—and dropped heavily on his knee, as he uttered those + words. + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + * * * * * * +</pre> + <p> + The pantomime which Zack had gone to see, was so lengthened out by encores + of incidental songs and dances, that it was not over till close on + midnight. When he left the theater, the physical consequences of breathing + a vitiated atmosphere made themselves felt immediately in the regions of + his mouth, throat, and stomach. Those ardent aspirations in the direction + of shell-fish and malt liquor, which it is especially the mission of the + English drama to create, overcame him as he issued into the fresh air, and + took him to the local oyster shop for refreshment and change of scene. + </p> + <p> + Having the immediate prospect of the private Drawing Academy vividly and + menacingly present before his eyes, Zack thought of the future for once in + his life, and astonished the ministering vassals of the oyster shop (with + all of whom he was on terms of intimate friendship), by enjoying himself + with exemplary moderation at the festive board. When he had done supper, + and was on his way to bed at the tobacconist’s across the road, it is + actually not too much to say that he was sober and subdued enough to have + borne inspection by the President and Council of the Royal Academy, as a + model student of the Fine Arts. + </p> + <p> + It was rather a surprise to him not to hear his friend snoring when he let + himself into the passage, but his surprise rose to blank astonishment when + he entered the front room, and saw the employment on which his fellow + lodger was engaged. + </p> + <p> + Mat was sitting by the table, with his rifle laid across his knees, and + was scouring the barrel bright with a piece of sand paper. By his side was + an unsnuffed candle, an empty bottle, and a tumbler with a little raw + brandy left in the bottom of it. His face, when he looked up, showed that + he had been drinking hard. There was a stare in his eyes that was at once + fierce and vacant, and a hard, fixed, unnatural smile on his lips which + Zack did not at all like to see. + </p> + <p> + “Why, Mat, old boy!” he said soothingly, “you look a little out of sorts. + What’s wrong?” + </p> + <p> + Mat scoured away at the barrel of the gun harder than ever, and gave no + answer. + </p> + <p> + “What, in the name of wonder, can you be scouring your rifle for + to-night?” continued young Thorpe. “You have never yet touched it since + you brought it into the house. What can you possibly want with it now? We + don’t shoot birds in England with rifle bullets.” + </p> + <p> + “A rifle bullet will do for <i>my</i> game, if I put it up,” said Mat, + suddenly and fiercely fixing his eyes on Zack. + </p> + <p> + “What game does he mean?” thought young Thorpe. “He’s been drinking + himself pretty nearly drunk. Can anything have happened to him since we + parted company at the theater?—I should like to find out; but he’s + such an old savage when the brandy’s in his head, that I don’t half like + to question him—” + </p> + <p> + Here Zack’s reflections were interrupted by the voice of his eccentric + friend. + </p> + <p> + “Did you ever meet with a man of the name of Carr?” asked Mat. He looked + away from young Thorpe, keeping his eyes steadily on the rifle, and + rubbing hard at the barrel, as he put this question. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Zack. “Not that I can remember.” + </p> + <p> + Mat left off cleaning the gun, and began to fumble awkwardly in one of his + pockets. After some little time, he produced what appeared to Zack to be + an inordinately long letter, written in a cramped hand, and superscribed + apparently with two long lines of inscription, instead of an ordinary + address. Opening this strange-looking document, Mat guided himself a + little way down the lines on the first page with a very unsteady + forefinger—stopped, and read somewhat anxiously and with evident + difficulty—then put the letter back in his pocket, dropped his eyes + once more on the gun in his lap, and said with a strong emphasis on the + Christian name:— + </p> + <p> + <i>“Arthur</i> Carr?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” returned Zack. “I never met with a man of that name. Is he a friend + of yours?” + </p> + <p> + Mat went on scouring the rifle barrel. + </p> + <p> + Young Thorpe said nothing more. He had been a little puzzled early in the + evening, when his friend had exhibited the fan and tobacco pouch (neither + of which had been produced before), and had mentioned to Mr. Blyth that + they were once intended for “a woman” who was now dead. Zack had thought + this conduct rather odd at the time; but now, when it was followed by + these strangely abrupt references to the name of Carr, by this mysterious + scouring of the rifle and desperate brandy drinking in solitude, he began + to feel perplexed in the last degree about Mat’s behavior. “Is this about + Arthur Carr a secret of the old boy’s?” Zack asked himself with a sort of + bewildered curiosity. “Is he letting out more than he ought, I wonder, now + he’s a little in liquor?” + </p> + <p> + While young Thorpe was pondering thus, Mat was still industriously + scouring the barrel of his rifle. After the silence in the room had lasted + some minutes, he suddenly threw away his morsel of sand-paper, and spoke + again. + </p> + <p> + “Zack,” he said, familiarly smacking the stock of his rifle, “me and you + had some talk once about going away to the wild country over the waters + together. I’m ready to sail when you are, if—” He had glanced up at + young Thorpe with his vacant bloodshot eyes, as he spoke the last words. + But he checked himself almost at the same moment, and looked away again + quickly at the gun. + </p> + <p> + “If what?” asked Zack. + </p> + <p> + “If I can lay my hands first on Arthur Carr,” answered Mat, with very + unusual lowness of tone. “Only let me do that, and I shall be game to + tramp it at an hour’s notice. He may be dead and buried for anything I + know—” + </p> + <p> + “Then what’s the use of looking after him?” interposed Zack. + </p> + <p> + “The use is, I’ve got it into my head that he’s alive, and that I shall + find him,” returned Mat. + </p> + <p> + “‘Well?” said young Thorpe eagerly. + </p> + <p> + Mat became silent again. His head drooped slowly forward, and his body + followed it till he rested his elbows on the gun. Sitting in this + crouched-up position, he abstractedly began to amuse himself by snapping + the lock of the rifle. Zack, suspecting that the brandy he had swallowed + was beginning to stupefy him, determined, with characteristic + recklessness, to rouse him into talking at any hazard. + </p> + <p> + “What the devil is all this mystery about?” he cried boldly. “Ever since + you pulled out that feather-fan and tobacco-pouch at Blyth’s—” + </p> + <p> + “Well, what of them?” interrupted Mat, looking up instantly with a fierce, + suspicious stare. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing particular,” pursued Zack, undauntedly, “except that it’s odd you + never brought them out before; and odder still that you should tell Blyth, + and never say a word here to me, about getting them for a woman—” + </p> + <p> + “What of <i>her?”</i> broke out Mat, rising to his feet with flushed face + and threatening eyes, and making the room ring again as he grounded his + rifle on the floor. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing but what a friend ought to say,” replied Zack, feeling that, in + Mat’s present condition, he had ventured a little too far. “I’m sorry, for + your sake, that she never lived to have the presents you meant for her. + There’s no offense, I hope, in saying that much, or in asking (after what + you yourself told Blyth) whether her death happened lately, or—” + </p> + <p> + “It happened afore ever you was born.” + </p> + <p> + He gave this answer, which amazed Zack, in a curiously smothered, + abstracted tone, as if he were talking to himself; laying aside the rifle + suddenly as he spoke, sitting down by the table again, and resting his + head on his hand, Young Thorpe took a chair near him, but wisely refrained + from saying anything just at that moment. Silence seemed to favor the + change that was taking place for the better in Mat’s temper. He looked up, + after awhile, and regarded Zack with a rough wistfulness and anxiety + working in his swarthy face. + </p> + <p> + “I like you, Zack,” he said, laying one hand on the lad’s arm and + mechanically stroking down the cloth of his sleeve. “I like you. Don’t let + us two part company. Let’s always pull together as brotherly and pleasant + as we can.” He paused. His hand tightened round young Thorpe’s arm; and + the hot, dry, tearless look in his eyes began to soften as he added, “I + take it kind in you, Zack, saying you were sorry for her just now. She + died afore ever you was born.” His hand relaxed its grasp: and when he had + repeated those last words, he turned a little away, and said no more. + </p> + <p> + Astonishment and curiosity impelled young Thorpe to hazard another + question. + </p> + <p> + “Was she a sweetheart of yours?” he asked, unconsciously sinking his voice + to a whisper, “or a relation, or—” + </p> + <p> + “Kin to me. Kin to me,” said Mat quickly, yet not impatiently; reaching + out his hand again to Zack’s arm, but without looking up. + </p> + <p> + “Was she your mother?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Sister?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes.” + </p> + <p> + For a minute or two Zack was silent after this answer. As soon as he began + to speak again, his companion shook his arm—a little impatiently, + this time—and stopped him. + </p> + <p> + “Drop it,” said Mat peremptorily. “Don’t let’s talk no more, my head—” + </p> + <p> + “Anything wrong with your head?” asked Zack. + </p> + <p> + Mat rose to his feet again. A change began to appear in his face. The + flash that had tinged it from the first, deepened palpably, and spread up + to the very rim of his black skull-cap. A confusion and dimness seemed to + be stealing over his eyes, a thickness and heaviness to be impeding his + articulation when he spoke again. + </p> + <p> + “I’ve overdone it with the brandy,” he said, “my head’s getting hot under + the place where they scalped me. Give me holt of my hat, and show me a + light, Zack. I can’t stop indoors no longer. Don’t talk! Let me out of the + house at once.” + </p> + <p> + Young Thorpe took up the candle directly; and leading the way down-stairs, + let him out into the street by the private door, not venturing to irritate + him by saying anything, but waiting on the door-step, and watching him + with great curiosity as he started for his walk. He was just getting out + of sight, when Zack heard him stop, and strike his stick on the pavement. + In less than a minute he had turned, and was back again at the door of the + tobacconist’s shop. + </p> + <p> + “Zack,” he whispered, “you ask about among your friends if any of ‘em ever + knowed a man with that name I told you of.” + </p> + <p> + “Do you mean the <i>‘Arthur Carr’</i> you were talking about just now?” + inquired young Thorpe. + </p> + <p> + “Yes; <i>Arthur Carr,”</i> said Mat, very earnestly. Then, turning away + before Zack could ask him any more questions, he disappeared rapidly this + time in the darkness of the street. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIII. THE SEARCH FOR ARTHUR CARR. + </h2> + <p> + Mr. Blyth was astir betimes on the morning after Mat and young Thorpe had + visited him in the studio. Manfully determined not to give way an inch to + his own continued reluctance to leave home, he packed up his brushes and + colors, and started on his portrait-painting tour by the early train which + he had originally settled to travel by. + </p> + <p> + Although he had every chance of spending his time, during his absence, + agreeably as well as profitably, his inexplicable sense of uneasiness at + being away from home, remained with him even on the railway; defying all + the exhilarating influences of rapid motion and change of scene, and + oppressing him as inveterately as it had oppressed him the night before. + Bad, however, as his spirits now were, they would have been much worse, if + he had known of two remarkable domestic events, which it had been the + policy of his household to keep strictly concealed from him on the day of + his departure. + </p> + <p> + When Mr. Blyth’s cook descended the first thing in the morning to air the + studio in the usual way, by opening the garden door, she was not a little + amazed and alarmed to find that, although it was closed, it was neither + bolted nor locked. She communicated this circumstance (reproachfully, of + course) to the housemaid, who answered (indignantly, as was only natural) + by reiterating her assertion of the past night, that she had secured the + door properly at six o’clock in the evening. Polly, appealing to + contradictory visible fact, rejoined that the thing was impossible. Patty, + holding fast to affirmatory personal knowledge, retorted that the thing + had been done. Upon this, the two had a violent quarrel—followed by + a sulky silence—succeeded by an affectionate reconciliation—terminated + by a politic resolution to say nothing more about the matter, and + especially to abstain from breathing a word in connection with it to the + ruling authorities above stairs. Thus it happened that neither Valentine + nor his wife knew anything of the suspicious appearance presented that + morning by the garden door. + </p> + <p> + But, though Mrs. Blyth was ignorant on this point, she was well enough + informed on another of equal, if not greater, domestic importance. While + her husband was down-stairs taking his early breakfast, Madonna came into + her room; and communicated confidentially all the particulars of the + terrible fright that she had suffered, while looking for her bodkin-case + in the studio, on the night before. How her candle could possibly have + gone out, as it did in an instant, she could not say. She was quite sure + that nobody was in the room when she entered it; and quite sure that she + felt no draught of wind in any direction—in short, she knew nothing + of her own experience, but that her candle suddenly went out; that she + remained for a little time, half dead with fright, in the darkness; and + that she then managed to grope her way back to her bedroom, in which a + night-light was always burning. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Blyth followed the progress of this strange story on Madonna’s + fingers with great interest to the end; and then—after suggesting + that the candle might have gone out through some defect in the make of it, + or might really have been extinguished by a puff of air which the girl was + too much occupied in looking for her bodkin-case to attend to—earnestly + charged her not to say a word on the subject of her adventure to + Valentine, when she went to help him in packing up his painting materials. + “He is nervous and uncomfortable enough already, poor fellow, at the idea + of leaving home,” thought Mrs. Blyth; “and if he heard the story about the + candle going out, it would only make him more uneasy still.” To explain + this consideration to Madonna was to ensure her discretion. She + accordingly kept her adventure in the studio so profound a secret from Mr. + Blyth, that he no more suspected what had happened to her, than he + suspected what had happened to the Hair Bracelet, when he hastily assured + himself that he was leaving his bureau properly locked, by trying the lid + of it the last thing before going away. + </p> + <p> + Such were the circumstances under which Valentine left home. He was not, + however, the only traveler of the reader’s acquaintance, whose departure + from London took place on the morning after the mysterious extinguishing + of Madonna’s light in the painting-room. By a whimsical coincidence, it so + happened that, at the very same hour when Mr. Blyth was journeying in one + direction, to paint portraits, Mr. Matthew Marksman (now, perhaps, also + recognizable as Mr. Matthew Grice) was journeying in another, to pay a + second visit to Dibbledean. + </p> + <p> + Not a visit of pleasure by any means, but a visit of business—business, + which, in every particular, Mat had especially intended to keep secret + from Zack; but some inkling of which he had nevertheless allowed to escape + him, during his past night’s conversation with the lad in Kirk Street. + </p> + <p> + When young Thorpe and he met on the morning after that conversation, he + was sufficiently aware of the fact that his overdose of brandy had set him + talking in a very unguarded manner; and desired Zack, as bluntly as usual, + to repeat to him all that he had let out while the liquor was in his head. + After this request had been complied with, he volunteered no additional + confidences. He simply said that what had slipped from his tongue was no + more than the truth; but that he could add nothing to it, and explain + nothing about it, until he had first discovered whether “Arthur Carr” were + alive or dead. On being asked how, and when, he intended to discover this, + he answered that he was going into the country to make the attempt that + very morning; and that, if he succeeded, he would, on his return, tell his + fellow-lodger unreservedly all that the latter might wish to know. Favored + with this additional promise, Zack was left alone in Kirk Street, to quiet + his curiosity as well as he could, with the reflection that he might hear + something more about his friend’s secrets, when Mat returned from his trip + to the country. + </p> + <p> + In order to collect a little more information on the subject of these + secrets than was at present possessed by Zack, it will be necessary to + return for a moment to the lodgings in Kirk Street, at that particular + period of the night when Mr. Marksman was sitting alone in the front room, + and was holding the Hair Bracelet crumpled up tight in one of his hands. + </p> + <p> + His first glance at the letters engraved on the clasp not only showed him + to whom the Bracelet had once belonged, but set at rest in his mind all + further doubt as to the identity of the young woman, whose face had so + startled and impressed him in Mr. Blyth’s studio. He was neither logical + enough nor legal enough in his mode of reasoning, to see, that, although + he had found his sister’s bracelet in Valentine’s bureau, it did not + actually follow as a matter of proof—though it might as a matter of + suspicion—that he had also found his sister’s child in Valentine’s + house. No such objection as this occurred to him. He was now perfectly + satisfied that Madonna was what he had suspected her to be from the first—Mary’s + child. + </p> + <p> + But to the next questions that he asked himself, concerning the girl’s + unknown father, the answers were not so easy to be found:—Who was + Arthur Carr? Where was he? Was he still alive? + </p> + <p> + His first hasty suspicion that Valentine might have assumed the name of + Arthur Carr, and might therefore be the man himself, was set at rest + immediately by another look at the Bracelet. He knew that the lightest in + color, of the two kinds of hair of which it was made, was Carr’s hair, + because it exactly resembled the surplus lock sent back by the jeweler, + and enclosed in Jane Holdsworth’s letter. He made the comparison and + discovered the resemblance at a glance. The evidence of his own eyesight, + which was enough for this, was also enough to satisfy him immediately that + Arthur Carr’s hair was, in color, as nearly as possible the exact opposite + of Mr. Blyth’s hair. + </p> + <p> + Still, though the painter was assuredly not the father, might he not know + who the father was, or had been? How could he otherwise have got + possession of Mary Grice’s bracelet and Mary Grice’s child? + </p> + <p> + These two questions suggested a third in Mat’s mind. Should he discover + himself at once to Mr. Blyth; and compel him, by fair means or foul, to + solve all doubts, and disclose what he knew? + </p> + <p> + No: not at once. That would be playing, at the outset, a desperate and + dangerous move in the game, which had best be reserved to the last. + Besides, it was useless to think of questioning Mr. Blyth just now—except + by the uncertain and indiscreet process of following him into the country—for + he had settled to take his departure from London, early the next morning. + </p> + <p> + But it was now impossible to rest, after what had been already discovered, + without beginning, in one direction or another, the attempt to find out + Arthur Carr. Mat’s purpose of doing this sprang from the strongest of all + resolutions—a vindictive resolution. That dangerous part of the + man’s nature which his life among the savages and his wanderings in the + wild places of the earth had been stealthily nurturing for many a long + year past, was beginning to assert itself, now that he had succeeded in + penetrating the mystery of Madonna’s parentage by the mother’s side. + Placed in his position, the tender thought of their sister’s child would, + at this particular crisis, have been uppermost in many men’s hearts. The + one deadly thought of the villain who had been Mary’s ruin was uppermost + in Mat’s. + </p> + <p> + He pondered but a little while on the course that he should pursue, before + the idea of returning to Dibbledean, and compelling Joanna Grice to tell + more than she had told at their last interview, occurred to him. He + disbelieved the passage in her narrative which stated that she had seen + and heard nothing of Arthur Carr in all the years that had elapsed since + the flight and death of her niece: he had his own conviction, or rather + his own presentiment (which he had mentioned to Zack), that the man was + still alive somewhere; and he felt confident that he had it in his power, + as a last resource, to awe the old woman into confessing everything that + she knew. To Dibbledean, therefore, in the first instance, he resolved to + go. + </p> + <p> + If he failed there in finding any clue to the object of his inquiry, he + determined to repair next to Rubbleford, and to address himself boldly to + Mrs. Peckover. He remembered that, when Zack had first mentioned her + extraordinary behavior about the Hair Bracelet in Mr. Blyth’s hall, he had + prefaced his words by saying, that she knew apparently as much of + Madonna’s history as the painter did himself; and that she kept that + knowledge just as close and secret. This woman, therefore, doubtless + possessed information which she might be either entrapped or forced into + communicating. There would be no difficulty about finding out where she + lived; for, on the evening when he had mimicked her, young Thorpe had said + that she kept a dairy and muffin-shop at Rubbleford. To that town, then, + he proposed to journey, in the event of failing in his purpose at + Dibbledean. + </p> + <p> + And if, by any evil chance, he should end in ascertaining no more from + Mrs. Peckover than from Joanna Grice, what course should he take next? + There would be nothing to be done then, but to return to London—to + try the last great hazard—to discover himself to Mr. Blyth, come + what might, with the Hair Bracelet to vouch for him in his hand. + </p> + <p> + These were his thoughts, as he sat alone in the lodging in Kirk Street. At + night, they had ended in the fatal consolation of the brandy bottle—in + the desperate and solitary excess, which had so cheated him of his + self-control, that the lurking taint which his life among the savages had + left in his disposition, and the deadly rancor which his recent discovery + of his sister’s fate had stored up in his heart, escaped from concealment, + and betrayed themselves in that half-drunken, half-sober occupation of + scouring the rifle-barrel, which it had so greatly amazed Zack to witness, + and which the lad had so suddenly and strangely suspended by his few + chance words of sympathizing reference to Mary’s death. + </p> + <p> + But, in the morning, Mat’s head was clear, and his dangerous instincts + were held once more under cunning control. In the morning, therefore, he + declined explaining himself to young Thorpe, and started quietly for the + country by the first train. + </p> + <p> + On being set down at the Dibbledean Station, Mat lingered a little and + looked about him, just as he had lingered and looked on the occasion of + his first visit. He subsequently took the same road to the town which he + had then taken; and, on gaining the church, stopped, as he had formerly + stopped, at the churchyard-gate. + </p> + <p> + This time, however, he seemed to have no intention of passing the entrance—no + intention, indeed, of doing anything, unless standing vacantly by the + gate, and mechanically swinging it backwards and forwards with both his + hands, can be considered in the light of an occupation. As for the + churchyard, he hardly looked at it now. There were two or three people, at + a little distance, walking about among the graves, who it might have been + thought would have attracted his attention; but he never took the smallest + notice of them. He was evidently meditating about something, for he soon + began to talk to himself—being, like most men who have passed much + of their time in solitude, unconsciously in the habit of thinking aloud. + </p> + <p> + “I wonder how many year ago it is, since she and me used to swing + back’ards and for’ards on this,” he said, still pushing the gate slowly to + and fro. “The hinges used to creak then. They go smooth enough now. Oiled, + I suppose.” As he said this, he moved his hands from the bar on which they + rested, and turned away to go on to the town; but stopped, and walking + back to the gate, looked attentively at its hinges—“Ah,” he said, + “not oiled. New.” + </p> + <p> + “New,” he repeated, walking slowly towards the High Street—“new + since my time, like everything else here. I wish I’d never come back—I + wish to God I’d never come back!” + </p> + <p> + On getting into the town, he stopped at the same place where he had halted + on his first visit to Dibbledean, to look up again, as he had looked then, + at the hosier’s shop which had once belonged to Joshua Grice. Here, those + visible and tangible signs and tokens which he required to stimulate his + sluggish memory, were not very easy to recognize. Though the general form + of his father’s old house was still preserved, the re-painting and + renovating of the whole front had somewhat altered it, in its individual + parts, to his eyes. He looked up and down at the gables, and all along + from window to window; and shook his head discontentedly. + </p> + <p> + “New again here,” he said. “I can’t make out for certain which winder it + was Mary and me broke between us, when I come away from school, the year + afore I went to sea. Whether it was Mary that broke the winder, and me + that took the blame,” he continued, slowly pursuing his way—“or + whether it was her that took the blame, and me that broke the winder, I + can’t rightly call to mind. And no great wonder neither, if I’ve forgot + such a thing as that, when I can’t even fix it for certain, yet, whether + she used to wear her Hair Bracelet or not, while I was at home.” + </p> + <p> + Communing with himself in this way, he reached the turning that led to + Joanna Grice’s cottage. + </p> + <p> + His thoughts had thus far been straying away idly and uninterruptedly to + the past. They were now recalled abruptly to present emergencies by + certain unexpected appearances which met his eye, the moment he looked + down the lane along which he was walking. + </p> + <p> + He remembered this place as having struck him by its silence and its + loneliness, on the occasion of his first visit to Dibbledean. He now + observed with some surprise that it was astir with human beings, and noisy + with the clamor of gossiping tongues. All the inhabitants of the cottages + on either side of the road were out in their front gardens. All the + townspeople who ought to have been walking about the principal streets, + seemed to be incomprehensibly congregated in this one narrow little lane. + What were they assembled here to do? What subject was it that men and + women—and even children as well—were all eagerly talking + about? + </p> + <p> + Without waiting to hear, without questioning anybody, without appearing to + notice that he was stared at (as indeed all strangers are in rural + England), as if he were walking about among a breeched and petticoated + people in the character of a savage with nothing but war paint on him, Mat + steadily and rapidly pursued his way down the lane to Joanna Grice’s + cottage. “Time enough,” thought he, “to find out what all this means, when + I’ve got quietly into the house I’m bound for.” As he approached the + cottage, he saw, standing at the gate, what looked, to his eyes, like two + coaches—one, very strange in form: both very remarkable in color. + All about the coaches stood solemn-looking gentlemen; and all about the + solemn-looking gentlemen, circled inquisitively and excitably, the whole + vagabond boy-and-girl population of Dibbledean. + </p> + <p> + Amazed, and even bewildered (though he hardly knew why) by what he saw, + Mat hastened on to the cottage. Just as he arrived at the garden paling, + the door opened, and from the inside of the dwelling there protruded + slowly into the open air a coffin carried on four men’s shoulders, and + covered with a magnificent black velvet pall. + </p> + <p> + Mat stopped the moment he saw the coffin, and struck his hand violently on + the paling by his side. “Dead!” he exclaimed under his breath. + </p> + <p> + “A friend of the late Miss Grice’s?” asked a gently inquisitive voice near + him. + </p> + <p> + He did not hear. All his attention was fixed on the coffin, as it was + borne slowly over the garden path. Behind it walked two gentlemen, + mournfully arrayed in black cloaks and hat-bands. They carried white + handkerchiefs in their hands, and used them to wipe—not their eyes—but + their lips, on which the balmy dews of recent wine-drinking glistened + gently. + </p> + <p> + “Dix, and Nawby—the medical attendant of the deceased, and the + solicitor who is her sole executor,” said the voice near Mat, in tones + which had ceased to be gently inquisitive, and had become complacently + explanatory instead. “That’s Millbury the undertaker, and the other is + Gutteridge of the White Hart Inn, his brother-in-law, who supplies the + refreshments, which in my opinion makes a regular job of it,” continued + the voice, as two red-faced gentlemen followed the doctor and the lawyer. + “Something like a funeral, this! Not a halfpenny less than forty pound, I + should say, when it’s all paid for. Beautiful, ain’t it?” concluded the + voice, becoming gently inquisitive again. + </p> + <p> + Still Mat kept his eyes fixed on the funeral proceedings in front, and + took not the smallest notice of the pertinacious speaker behind him. + </p> + <p> + The coffin was placed in the hearse. Dr. Dix and Mr. Nawby entered the + mourning coach provided for them. The smug human vultures who prey + commercially on the civilized dead, arranged themselves, with black wands, + in solemn Undertakers’ order of procession on either side of the funeral + vehicles. Those clumsy pomps of feathers and velvet, of strutting horses + and marching mutes, which are still permitted among us to desecrate with + grotesquely-shocking fiction the solemn fact of death, fluttered out in + their blackest state grandeur and showed their most woeful state paces, as + the procession started magnificently with its meager offering of one dead + body more to the bare and awful grave. + </p> + <p> + When Mary Grice died, a fugitive and an outcast, the clown’s wife and the + Irish girl who rode in the circus wept for her, stranger though she was, + as they followed her coffin to the poor corner of the churchyard. When + Joanna Grice died in the place of her birth, among the townspeople with + whom her whole existence had been passed, every eye was tearless that + looked on her funeral procession; the two strangers who made part of it, + gossiped pleasantly as they rode after the hearse about the news of the + morning; and the sole surviving member of her family, whom chance had + brought to her door on her burial-day, stood aloof from the hired + mourners, and moved not a step to follow her to the grave. + </p> + <p> + No: not a step. The hearse rolled on slowly towards the churchyard, and + the sight-seers in the lane followed it; but Matthew Grice stood by the + garden paling, at the place where he had halted from the first. What was + her death to him? Nothing but the loss of his first chance of tracing + Arthur Carr. Tearlessly and pitilessly she had left it to strangers to + bury her brother’s daughter; and now, tearlessly and pitilessly, there + stood her brother’s son, leaving it to strangers to bury <i>her.</i> + </p> + <p> + “Don’t you mean to follow to the churchyard, and see the last of it?” + inquired the same inquisitive voice, which had twice already endeavored to + attract Mat’s attention. + </p> + <p> + He turned round this time to look at the speaker, and confronted a wizen, + flaxen-haired, sharp-faced man, dressed in a jaunty shooting-jacket, + carrying a riding-cane in his hand, and having a thorough-bred + black-and-tan terrier in attendance at his heels. + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me asking the question,” said the wizen man; “but I noticed how + dumbfoundered you were when you saw the coffin come out. ‘A friend of the + deceased,’ I thought to myself directly—” + </p> + <p> + “Well,” interrupted Mat, gruffly, “suppose I am; what then?” + </p> + <p> + “Will you oblige me by putting this in your pocket?” asked the wizen man, + giving Mat a card. “My name’s Tatt, and I’ve recently started in practice + here as a solicitor. I don’t want to ask any improper questions, but, + being a friend of the deceased, you may perhaps have some claim on the + estate; in which case, I should feel proud to take care of your interests. + It isn’t strictly professional, I know, to be touting for the chance of a + client in this way; but I’m obliged to do it in self-defense. Dix, Nawby, + Millbury, and Gutteridge, all play into one another’s hands, and want to + monopolize among ‘em the whole Doctoring, Lawyering, Undertaking, and + Licensed Victualling business of Dibbledean. I’ve made up my mind to break + down Nawby’s monopoly, and keep as much business out of his office as I + can. That’s why I take time by the forelock, and give you my card.” Here + Mr. Tatt left off explaining, and began to play with his terrier. + </p> + <p> + Mat looked up thoughtfully at Joanna Grice’s cottage. Might she not, in + all probability, have left some important letters behind her? And, if he + mentioned who he was, could not the wizen man by his side help him to get + at them? + </p> + <p> + “A good deal of mystery about the late Miss Grice,” resumed Mr. Tatt, + still playing with the terrier. “Nobody but Dix and Nawby can tell exactly + when she died, or how she’s left her money. Queer family altogether. + (Rats, Pincher! where are the rats?) There’s a son of old Grice’s, who has + never, they say, been properly accounted for. (Hie, boy! there’s a cat! + hie after her, Pincher!) If he was only to turn up now, I believe, between + ourselves, it would put such a spoke in Nawby’s wheel—” + </p> + <p> + “I may have a question or two to ask you one of these days,” interposed + Mat, turning away from the garden paling at last. While his new + acquaintance had been speaking, he had been making up his mind that he + should best serve his purpose of tracing Arthur Carr, by endeavoring + forthwith to get all the information that Mrs. Peckover might be able to + afford him. In the event of this resource proving useless, there would be + plenty of time to return to Dibbledean, discover himself to Mr. Tatt, and + ascertain whether the law would not give to Joshua Grice’s son the right + of examining Joanna Grice’s papers. + </p> + <p> + “Come to my office,” cried Mr. Tatt, enthusiastically. “I can give you a + prime bit of Stilton, and as good a glass of bitter beer as ever you drank + in your life.” + </p> + <p> + Mat declined this hospitable invitation peremptorily, and set forth at + once on his return to the station. All Mr. Tatt’s efforts to engage him + for an “early day,” and an “appointed hour,” failed. He would only repeat, + doggedly, that at some future time he might have a question or two to ask + about a matter of law, and that his new acquaintance should then be the + man to whom he would apply for information. + </p> + <p> + They wished each other “good morning” at the entrance of the lane,—Mr. + Tatt lounging slowly up the High Street, with his terrier at his heels; + and Mat walking rapidly in the contrary direction, on his way back to the + railway station. + </p> + <p> + As he passed the churchyard, the funeral procession had just arrived at + its destination, and the bearers were carrying the coffin from the hearse + to the church door. He stopped a little by the road-side to see it go in. + “She was no good to anybody about her, all her lifetime,” he thought + bitterly, as the last heavy fold of the velvet pall was lost to view in + the darkness of the church entrance. “But if she’d only lived a day or two + longer, she might have been of some good to me. There’s more of what I + wanted to know nailed down along with her in that coffin, than ever I’m + likely to find out anywhere else. It’s a long hunt of mine, this is—a + long hunt on a dull scent; and her death has made it duller.” With this + farewell thought, he turned from the church. + </p> + <p> + As he pursued his way back to the railroad, he took Jane Holdsworth’s + letter out of his pocket, and looked at the hair enclosed in it. It was + the fourth or fifth time he had done this during the few hours that had + passed since he had possessed himself of Mary’s Bracelet. From that period + there had grown within him a vague conviction, that the possession of + Carr’s hair might in some way lead to the discovery of Carr himself. He + knew perfectly well that there was not the slightest present or practical + use in examining this hair, and yet, there was something that seemed to + strengthen him afresh in his purpose, to encourage him anew after his + unexpected check at Dibbledean, merely in the act of looking at it. “If I + can’t track him no other way,” he muttered, replacing the hair in his + pocket, “I’ve got the notion into my head, somehow, that I shall track him + by this.” + </p> + <p> + Mat found it no very easy business to reach Rubbleford. He had to go back + a little way on the Dibbledean line, then to diverge by a branch line, and + then to get upon another main line, and travel along it some distance + before he reached his destination. It was dark by the time he reached + Rubbleford. However, by inquiring of one or two people, he easily found + the dairy and muffin-shop when he was once in the town; and saw, to his + great delight, that it was not shut up for the night. He looked in at the + window, under a plaster cast of a cow, and observed by the light of one + tallow candle burning inside, a chubby, buxom girl sitting at the counter, + and either drawing or writing something on a slate. Entering the shop, + after a moment or two of hesitation, he asked if he could see Mrs. + Peckover. + </p> + <p> + “Mother went away, sir, three days ago, to nurse uncle Bob at Bangbury,” + answered the girl. + </p> + <p> + (Here was a second check—a second obstacle to defer the tracing of + Arthur Carr! It seemed like a fatality!) + </p> + <p> + “When do you expect her back?” asked Mat. + </p> + <p> + “Not for a week or ten days, sir,” answered the girl. “Mother said she + wouldn’t have gone, but for uncle Bob being her only brother, and not + having wife or child to look after him at Bangbury.” + </p> + <p> + <i>(Bangbury!</i>—Where had he heard that name before?) + </p> + <p> + “Father’s up at the rectory, sir,” continued the girl, observing that the + stranger looked both disappointed and puzzled. “If it’s dairy business you + come upon, I can attend to it; but it’s anything about accounts to settle, + mother said they were to be sent on to her.” + </p> + <p> + “Maybe I shall have a letter to send your mother,” said Mat, after a + moment’s consideration. “Can you write me down on a bit of paper where she + is?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, sir.” And the girl very civilly and readily wrote in her best + round hand, on a slip of bill-paper, this address:—“Martha Peckover, + at Rob: Randle, 2 Dawson’s Buildings, Bangbury.” + </p> + <p> + Mat absently took the slip of paper from her, and put it into his pocket; + then thanked the girl, and went out. While he was inside the shop, he had + been trying in vain to call to mind where he had heard the name of + Bangbury before: the moment he was in the street, the lost remembrance + came back to him. Surely, Bangbury was the place where Joanna Grice had + told him that Mary was buried! + </p> + <p> + After walking a few paces, he came to a large linen-draper’s shop, with + plenty of light in the window. Stopping here, he hastily drew from his + pocket the manuscript containing the old woman’s “Justification” of her + conduct; for he wished to be certain about the accuracy of his + recollection, and he had an idea that the part of the Narrative which + mentioned Mary’s death would help to decide him in his present doubt. + </p> + <p> + Yes! on turning to the last page, there it was written in so many words: + “I sent, by a person I could depend on, money enough to bury her decently + in Bangbury churchyard.” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll go there to-night,” said Mat to himself, thrusting the letter into + his pocket, and taking the way back to the railway station immediately. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XIV. MARY’S GRAVE. + </h2> + <p> + Matthew Grice was a resolute traveler; but no resolution is powerful + enough to alter the laws of inexorable Time-Tables to suit the convenience + of individual passengers. Although Mat left Rubbleford in less than an + hour after he had arrived there, he only succeeded in getting half way to + Bangbury, before he had to stop for the night, and wait at an intermediate + station for the first morning train on what was termed the Trunk Line. By + this main railroad he reached his destination early in the forenoon, and + went at once to Dawson’s Buildings. + </p> + <p> + “Mrs. Peckover has just stepped out, sir—Mr. Randle being a little + better this morning—for a mouthful of fresh air. She’ll be in again + in half-an-hour,” said the maid-of-all-work who opened Mr. Randle’s door. + </p> + <p> + Mat began to suspect that something more than mere accident was concerned + in keeping Mrs. Peckover and himself asunder. “I’ll come again in + half-an-hour,” he said—then added, just as the servant was about to + shut the door:—“Which is my way to the church?” + </p> + <p> + Bangbury church was close at hand, and the directions he received for + finding it were easy to follow. But when he entered the churchyard, and + looked about him anxiously to see where he should begin searching for his + sister’s grave, his head grew confused, and his heart began to fail him. + Bangbury was a large town, and rows and rows of tombstones seemed to fill + the churchyard bewilderingly in every visible direction. + </p> + <p> + At a little distance a man was at work opening a grave, and to him Mat + applied for help; describing his sister as a stranger who had been buried + somewhere in the churchyard better than twenty years ago. The man was both + stupid and surly, and would give no advice, except that it was useless to + look near where he was digging, for they were all respectable townspeople + buried about there. + </p> + <p> + Mat walked round to the other side of the church. Here the graves were + thicker than ever; for here the poor were buried. He went on slowly + through them, with his eyes fixed on the ground, towards some trees which + marked the limits of the churchyard; looking out for a place to begin his + search in, where the graves might be comparatively few, and where his head + might not get confused at the outset. Such a place he found at last, in a + damp corner under the trees. About this spot the thin grass languished; + the mud distilled into tiny water-pools; and the brambles, briars, and + dead leaves lay thickly and foully between a few ragged turf-mounds. Could + they have laid her here? Could this be the last refuge to which Mary ran + after she fled from home? + </p> + <p> + A few of the mounds had stained moldering tomb-stones at their heads. He + looked at these first; and finding only strange names on them, turned next + to the mounds marked out by cross-boards of wood. At one of the graves the + cross-board had been torn, or had rotted away, from its upright supports, + and lay on the ground weather-stained and split, but still faintly showing + that it had once had a few letters cut in it. He examined this board to + begin with, and was trying to make out what the letters were, when the + sound of some one approaching disturbed him. He looked up, and saw a woman + walking slowly towards the place where he was standing. + </p> + <p> + It was Mrs. Peckover herself! She had taken a prescription for her sick + brother to the chemist’s—had bought him one or two little things he + wanted in the High Street—and had now, before resuming her place at + his bedside, stolen a few minutes to go and look at the grave of Madonna’s + mother. It was many, many years since Mrs. Peckover had last paid a visit + to Bangbury churchyard. + </p> + <p> + She stopped and hesitated when she first caught sight of Mat; but, after a + moment or two, not being a woman easily baulked in anything when she had + once undertaken to do it, continued to advance, and never paused for the + second time until she had come close to the grave by which Mat stood, and + was looking him steadily in the face, exactly across it. + </p> + <p> + He was the first to speak. “Do you know whose grave this is?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” answered Mrs. Peckover, glancing indignantly at the broken + board and the mud and brambles all about it. “Yes, sir, I <i>do</i> know; + and, what’s more, I know that it’s a disgrace to the parish. Money has + been paid twice over to keep it decent; and look what a state it’s left + in!” + </p> + <p> + “I asked you whose grave it was,” repeated Mat, impatiently. + </p> + <p> + “A poor, unfortunate, forsaken creature’s, who’s gone to Heaven if ever an + afflicted, repenting woman went there yet!” answered Mrs. Peckover, + warmly. + </p> + <p> + “Forsaken? Afflicted? A woman, too?” Mat repeated to himself, + thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, forsaken and afflicted,” cried Mrs. Peckover, overhearing him. + “Don’t you say no ill of her, whoever you are. She shan’t be spoken + unkindly of in my hearing, poor soul!” + </p> + <p> + Mat looked up suddenly and eagerly. “What’s your name?” he inquired. + </p> + <p> + “My name’s Peckover, and I’m not ashamed of it,” was the prompt reply. + “And, now, if I may make so bold, what’s yours?” + </p> + <p> + Mat took from his pocket the Hair Bracelet, and, fixing his eyes intently + on her face, held it up, across the grave, for her to look at. “Do you + know this?” he said. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Peckover stooped forward, and closely inspected the Bracelet for a + minute or two. “Lord save us!” she exclaimed, recognizing it, and + confronting him with cheeks that had suddenly become colorless, and eyes + that stared in terror and astonishment. “Lord save us! how did you come by + that? And who for mercy’s sake are you?” + </p> + <p> + “My name’s Matthew Grice,” he answered quickly and sternly. “This Bracelet + belonged to my sister, Mary Grice. She run away from home, and died, and + was buried in Bangbury churchyard. If you know her grave, tell me in plain + words—is it here?” + </p> + <p> + Breathless as she was with astonishment, Mrs. Peckover managed to stammer + a faint answer in the affirmative, and to add that the initials, “M. G.,” + would be found somewhere on the broken board lying at their feet. She then + tried to ask a question or two in her turn; but the words died away in + faint exclamations of surprise. “To think of me and you meeting together!” + was all she could say;—“her own brother, too! Oh! to think of that!—only + to think of that!” + </p> + <p> + Mat looked down at the mud, the brambles, and the rotting grass that lay + over what had once been a living and loving human creature. The dangerous + brightness glittered in his eyes, the cold change spread fast over his + cheeks, and the scars of the arrow-wounds began to burn redly and more + redly, as he whispered to himself—“I’ll be even yet, Mary, with the + man who laid you here!” + </p> + <p> + “Does Mr. Blyth know who you are, sir?” asked Mrs. Peckover, hesitating + and trembling as she put this question. “Did he give you the Bracelet?” + </p> + <p> + She stopped. Mat was not listening to her. His eyes were fastened on the + grave: he was still talking to himself in quick whispering tones. + </p> + <p> + “Her Bracelet was hid from me in another man’s chest,” he said—“I’ve + found her Bracelet. Her child was hid from me in another man’s house—I’ve + found her child. Her grave was hid from me in a strange churchyard—I’ve + found her grave. The man who laid her in it is hid from me still—I + shall find <i>him!”</i> + </p> + <p> + “Please do listen to me, sir, for one moment,” pleaded Mrs. Peckover, more + nervously than before. <i>“Does</i> Mr. Blyth know about you? And little + Mary—oh, sir, whatever you do, pray, pray don’t take her away from + where she is now! You can’t mean to do that, sir, though you are her own + mother’s brother? You can’t, surely?” + </p> + <p> + He looked up at her so quickly, with such a fierce, steady, + serpent-glitter in his light-grey eyes, that she recoiled a step or two; + still pleading, however, with desperate perseverance for an answer to her + last question. + </p> + <p> + “Only tell me, sir, that you don’t mean to take little Mary away, and I + won’t ask you to say so much as another word! You’ll leave her with Mr. + and Mrs. Blyth, won’t you, sir? For your sister’s sake, you’ll leave her + with the poor bed-ridden lady that’s been like a mother to her for so many + years past?—for your dear, lost sister’s sake, that I was with when + she died—” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me about her.” He said those few words with surprising gentleness, + as Mrs. Peckover thought, for such a rough-looking man. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, all you want to know,” she answered. “But I can’t stop here. + There’s my brother—I’ve got such a turn with seeing you, it’s almost + put him out of my head—there’s my brother, that I must go back to, + and see if he’s asleep still. You just please to come along with me, and + wait in the parlor—it’s close by—while I step upstairs—” + (Here she stopped in great confusion. It seemed like running some + desperate risk to ask this strange, stern-featured relation of Mary + Grice’s into her brother’s house.) “And yet,” thought Mrs. Peckover, “if I + can only soften his heart by telling him about his poor unfortunate + sister, it may make him all the readier to leave little Mary—” + </p> + <p> + At this point her perplexities were cut short by Matthew himself, who + said, shortly, that he had been to Dawson’s Buildings already to look + after her. On hearing this, she hesitated no longer. It was too late to + question the propriety or impropriety of admitting him now. + </p> + <p> + “Come away, then,” she said; “don’t let’s wait no longer. And don’t fret + about the infamous state they’ve left things in here,” she added, thinking + to propitiate him, as she saw his eyes turn once more at parting, on the + broken board and the brambles around the grave. “I know where to go, and + who to speak to—” + </p> + <p> + “Go nowhere, and speak to nobody,” he broke in sternly, to her great + astonishment. “All what’s got to be done to it, I mean to do myself.” + </p> + <p> + “You!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, me. It was little enough I ever did for her while she was alive; and + it’s little enough now, only to make things look decent about the place + where she’s buried. But I mean to do that much for her; and no other man + shall stir a finger to help me.” + </p> + <p> + Roughly as it was spoken, this speech made Mrs. Peckover feel easier about + Madonna’s prospects. The hard-featured man was, after all, not so + hard-hearted as she had thought him at first. She even ventured to begin + questioning him again, as they walked together towards Dawson’s Buildings. + </p> + <p> + He varied very much in his manner of receiving her inquiries, replying to + some promptly enough, and gruffly refusing, in the plainest terms, to give + a word of answer to others. + </p> + <p> + He was quite willing, for example, to admit that he had procured her + temporary address at Bangbury from her daughter at Rubbleford; but he + flatly declined to inform her how he had first found out that she lived at + Rubbleford at all. Again, he readily admitted that neither Madonna nor Mr. + Blyth knew who he really was; but he refused to say why he had not + disclosed himself to them, or when he intended—if he ever intended + at all—to inform them that he was the brother of Mary Grice. As to + getting him to confess in what manner he had become possessed of the Hair + Bracelet, Mrs. Peckover’s first question about it, although only answered + by a look, was received in such a manner as to show her that any further + efforts on her part in that direction would be perfectly fruitless. + </p> + <p> + On one side of the door, at Dawson’s Buildings, was Mr. Randle’s shop; and + on the other was Mr. Randle’s little dining parlor. In this room Mrs. + Peckover left Mat, while she went up stairs to see if her sick brother + wanted anything. Finding that he was still quietly sleeping, she only + waited to arrange the bed-clothes comfortably about him, and to put a + hand-bell easily within his reach in case he should awake, and then went + down stairs again immediately. + </p> + <p> + She found Mat sitting with his elbows on the one little table in the + dining-parlor, his head resting on his hands. Upon the table lying by the + side of the Bracelet, was the lock of hair out of Jane Holdsworth’s + letter, which he had yet once more taken from his pocket to look at. “Why, + mercy on me!” cried Mrs. Peckover, glancing at it, “surely it’s the same + hair that’s worked into the Bracelet! Wherever, for goodness sake, did you + get that?” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind where I got it. Do you know whose hair it is? Look a little + closer. The man this hair belonged to was the man she trusted in—and + he laid her in the churchyard for her pains.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! who was he? who was he?” asked Mrs. Peckover, eagerly + </p> + <p> + “Who was he?” repeated Matthew, sternly. “What do you mean by asking me + that?” + </p> + <p> + “I only mean that I never heard a word about the villain—I don’t so + much as know his name.” + </p> + <p> + “You don’t?” He fastened his eyes suspiciously on her as he said those two + words. + </p> + <p> + “No; as true as I stand here I don’t. Why, I didn’t even know that your + poor dear sister’s name was Grice till you told me.” + </p> + <p> + His look of suspicion began to change to a look of amazement as he heard + this. He hurriedly gathered up the Bracelet and the lock of hair, and put + them into his pocket again. + </p> + <p> + “Let’s hear first how you met with her,” he said. “I’ll have a word or two + about the other matter afterwards.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Peckover sat down near him, and began to relate the mournful story + which she had told to Valentine, and Doctor and Mrs. Joyce, now many years + ago, in the Rectory dining-room. But on this occasion she was not allowed + to go through her narrative uninterruptedly. While she was speaking the + few simple words which told how she had sat down by the road-side, and + suckled the half-starved infant of the forsaken and dying Mary Grice, Mat + suddenly reached out his heavy, trembling hand, and took fast hold of + hers. He griped it with such force that, stout-hearted and hardy as she + was, she cried out in alarm and pain, “Oh, don’t! you hurt me—you + hurt me!” + </p> + <p> + He dropped her hand directly, and turned his face away from her; his + breath quickening painfully, his fingers fastening on the side of his + chair, as if some great pang of oppression were trying him to the quick. + She rose and asked anxiously what ailed him; but, even as the words passed + her lips, he mastered himself with that iron resolution of his which few + trials could bend, and none break, and motioned to her to sit down again. + </p> + <p> + “Don’t mind me,” he said; “I’m old and tough-hearted with being battered + about in the world, and I can’t give myself vent nohow with talking or + crying like the rest of you. Never mind; it’s all over now. Go on.” + </p> + <p> + She complied, a little nervously at first; but he did not interrupt her + again. He listened while she proceeded, looking straight at her; not + speaking or moving—except when he winced once or twice, as a man + winces under unexpected pain, while Mary’s death-bed words were repeated + to him. Having reached this stage of her narrative, Mrs. Peckover added + little more; only saying, in conclusion: “I took care of the poor soul’s + child, as I said I would; and did my best to behave like a mother to her, + till she got to be ten year old; then I give her up—because it was + for her own good—to Mr. Blyth.” + </p> + <p> + He did not seem to notice the close of the narrative. The image of the + forsaken girl, sitting alone by the roadside, with her child’s natural + sustenance dried up within her—travel-worn, friendless, and + desperate—was still uppermost in his mind; and when he next spoke, + gratitude for the help that had been given to Mary in her last sore + distress was the one predominant emotion, which strove roughly to express + itself to Mrs. Peck over in these words: + </p> + <p> + “Is there any living soul you care about that a trifle of money would do a + little good to?” he asked, with such abrupt eagerness that she was quite + startled by it. + </p> + <p> + “Lord bless me!” she exclaimed, “what do you mean? What has that got to do + with your poor sister, or Mr. Blyth?” + </p> + <p> + “It’s got this to do,” burst out Matthew, starting to his feet, as the + struggling gratitude within him stirred body and soul both together; “you + turned to and helped Mary when she hadn’t nobody else in the world to + stand by her. She was always father’s darling—but father couldn’t + help her then; and I was away on the wrong side of the sea, and couldn’t + be no good to her neither. But I’m on the right side, now; and if there’s + any friends of yours, north, south, east, or west, as would be happier for + a trifle of money, here’s all mine; catch it, and give it ‘em.” (He tossed + his beaver-skin roll, with the bank-notes in it, into Mrs. Peckover’s + lap.) “Here’s my two hands, that I dursn’t take a holt of yours with, for + fear of hurting you again; here’s my two hands that can work along with + any man’s. Only give ‘em something to do for you, that’s all! Give ‘em + something to make or mend, I don’t care what—” + </p> + <p> + “Hush! hush!” interposed Mrs. Peckover; “don’t be so dreadful noisy, + there’s a good man! or you’ll wake my brother up stairs. And, besides, + where’s the use to make such a stir about what I done for your sister? + Anybody else would have took as kindly to her as I did, seeing what + distress she was in, poor soul! Here,” she continued, handing him back the + beaver-skin roll; “here’s your money, and thank you for the offer of it. + Put it up safe in your pocket again. We manage to keep our heads above + water, thank God! and don’t want to do no better than that. Put it up in + your pocket again, and then I’ll make bold to ask you for something else.” + </p> + <p> + “For what?” inquired Mat, looking her eagerly in the face. + </p> + <p> + “Just for this: that you’ll promise not to take little Mary from Mr. + Blyth. Do, pray do promise me you won’t.” + </p> + <p> + “I never thought to take her away,” he answered. “Where should I take her + to? What can a lonesome old vagabond, like me, do for her? If she’s happy + where she is—let her stop where she is.” + </p> + <p> + “Lord bless you for saying that!” fervently exclaimed Mrs. Peckover, + smiling for the first time, and smoothing out her gown over her knees with + an air of inexpressible relief. “I’m rid of my grand fright now, and + getting to breathe again freely, which I haven’t once yet been able to do + since I first set eyes on you. Ah! you’re rough to look at; but you’ve got + your feelings like the rest of us. Talk away now as much as you like. Ask + me about anything you please—” + </p> + <p> + “What’s the good?” he broke in, gloomily. “You don’t know what I wanted + you to know. I come down here for to find out the man as once owned this,”—he + pulled the lock of hair out of his pocket again—“and you can’t help + me. I didn’t believe it when you first said so, but I do now.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, thank you for saying that much; though you might have put it + civiler—” + </p> + <p> + “His name was Arthur Carr. Did you never hear tell of anybody with the + name of Arthur Carr?” + </p> + <p> + “No: never—never till this very moment.” + </p> + <p> + “The Painter-man will know,” continued Mat, talking more to himself than + to Mrs. Peckover. “I must go back, and chance it with the Painter-man, + after all.” + </p> + <p> + “Painter-man?” repeated Mrs. Peckover. “Painter? Surely you don’t mean Mr. + Blyth?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I do.” + </p> + <p> + “Why, what in the name of fortune can you be thinking of! How should Mr. + Blyth know more than me? He never set eyes on little Mary till she was ten + year old; and he knows nothing about her poor unfortunate mother except + what I told him.” + </p> + <p> + These words seemed at first to stupefy Mat: they burst upon him in the + shape of a revelation for which he was totally unprepared. It had never + once occurred to him to doubt that Valentine was secretly informed of all + that he most wished to know. He had looked forward to what the painter + might be persuaded—or, in the last resort, forced—to tell him, + as the one certainty on which he might finally depend; and here was this + fancied security exposed, in a moment, as the wildest delusion that ever + man trusted in! What resource was left? To return to Dibbledean, and, by + the legal help of Mr. Tatt, to possess himself of any fragments of + evidence which Joanna Grice might have left behind her in writing? This + seemed but a broken reed to depend on; and yet nothing else now remained. + </p> + <p> + “I shall find him! I don’t care where he’s hid away from me, I shall find + him yet,” thought Mat, still holding with dogged and desperate obstinacy + to his first superstition, in spite of every fresh sign that appeared to + confute it. + </p> + <p> + “Why worrit yourself about finding Arthur Carr at all?” pursued Mrs. + Peckover, noticing his perplexed and mortified expression. “The wretch is + dead, most likely, by this time—” + </p> + <p> + “I’m not dead!” retorted Mat, fiercely; “and you’re not dead; and you and + me are as old as him. Don’t tell me he’s dead again! I say he’s alive; + and, by God, I’ll be even with him!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, don’t talk so, don’t! It’s shocking to hear you and see you,” said + Mrs. Peckover, recoiling from the expression of his eye at that moment, + just as she had recoiled from it already over Mary’s grave. “Suppose he is + alive, why should you go taking vengeance into your own hands after all + these years? Your poor sister’s happy in heaven; and her child’s took care + of by the kindest people, I do believe, that ever drew breath in this + world. Why should you want to be even with him now? If he hasn’t been + punished already, I’ll answer for it he will be—in the next world, + if not in this. Don’t talk about it, or think about it any more, that’s a + good man! Let’s be friendly and pleasant together again—like we were + just now—for Mary’s sake. Tell me where you’ve been to all these + years. How is it you’ve never turned up before? Come! tell me, do.” + </p> + <p> + She ended by speaking to him in much the same tone which she would have + made use of to soothe a fractious child. But her instinct as a woman + guided her truly: in venturing on that little reference to “Mary,” she had + not ventured in vain. It quieted him, and turned aside the current of his + thoughts into the better and smoother direction. “Didn’t she never talk to + you about having a brother as was away aboard ship?” he asked, anxiously. + </p> + <p> + “No. She wouldn’t say a word about any of her friends, and she didn’t say + a word about you. But how did you come to be so long away?—that’s + what I want to know,” said Mrs. Peckover, pertinaciously repeating her + question, partly out of curiosity, partly out of the desire to keep him + from returning to the dangerous subject of Arthur Carr. + </p> + <p> + “I was alway a bitter bad ‘un, <i>I</i> was,” said Matthew, meditatively. + “There was no keeping of me straight, try it anyhow you like. I bolted + from home, I bolted from school, I bolted from aboard ship—” + </p> + <p> + “Why? What for?” + </p> + <p> + “Partly because I was a bitter bad ‘un, and partly because of a letter I + picked up in port, at the Brazils, at the end of a long cruise. Here’s the + letter—but it’s no good showing it to you: the paper’s so grimed and + tore about, you can’t read it.” + </p> + <p> + “Who wrote it? Mary?” + </p> + <p> + “No: father—saying what had happened to Mary, and telling me not to + come back home till things was pulled straight again. Here—here’s + what he said—under the big grease-spot. ‘If you can get continued + employment anywhere abroad, accept it instead of coming back. Better for + you, at your age, to be spared the sight of such sorrow as we are now + suffering.’ Do you see that?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes, I see. Ah! poor man! he couldn’t give no kinder better advice; + and you—” + </p> + <p> + “Deserted from my ship. The devil was in me to be off on the tramp, and + father’s letter did the rest. I got wild and desperate with the thought of + what had happened to Mary, and with knowing they were ashamed to see me + back again at home. So the night afore the ship sailed for England I + slipped into a shore-boat, and turned my back on salt-junk and the + boatswain’s mate for the rest of my life.” + </p> + <p> + “You don’t mean to say you’ve done nothing but wander about in foreign + parts from that time to this?” + </p> + <p> + “I do, though! I’d a notion I should be shot for a deserter if I turned up + too soon in my own country. That kep’ me away for ever so long, to begin + with. Then tramps’ fever got into my head; and there was an end of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Tramps’ fever! Mercy on me! what do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean this: when a man turns gypsy on his own account, as I did, and + tramps about through cold and hot, and winter and summer, not caring where + he goes or what becomes of him, that sort of life ends by getting into his + head, just like liquor does—except that it don’t get out again. It + got into my head. It’s in it new. Tramps’ fever kep’ me away in the wild + country. Tramps’ fever will take me back there afore long. Tramps’ fever + will lay me down, some day, in the lonesome places, with my hand on my + rifle and my face to the sky; and I shan’t get up again till the crows and + vultures come and carry me off piecemeal.” + </p> + <p> + “Lord bless us! how can you talk about yourself in that way?” cried Mrs. + Peckover, shuddering at the grim image which Mat’s last words suggested. + “You’re trying to make yourself out worse than you are. Surely you must + have thought of your father and sister sometimes—didn’t you?” + </p> + <p> + “Think of them? Of course I did! But, mind ye, there come a time when I as + good as forgot them altogether. They seemed to get smeared out of my head—like + we used to smear old sums off our slates at school.” + </p> + <p> + “More shame for you! Whatever else you forgot, you oughtn’t to have + forgotten—” + </p> + <p> + “Wait a bit. Father’s letter told me—I’d show you the place, only I + know you couldn’t read it—that he was a going to look after Mary, + and bring her back home, and forgive her. He’d done that twice for <i>me,</i> + when <i>I</i> run away; so I didn’t doubt but what he’d do it just the + same for <i>her.</i> She’ll pull through her scrape with father just as I + used to pull through mine—was what I thought. And so she would, if + her own kin hadn’t turned against her; if father’s own sister hadn’t—” + He stopped; the frown gathered on his brow, and the oath burst from his + lips, as he thought of Joanna Grice’s share in preventing Mary’s + restoration to her home. + </p> + <p> + “There! there!” interposed Mrs. Peckover, soothingly. “Talk about + something pleasanter. Let’s hear how you come back to England.” + </p> + <p> + “I can’t rightly fix it when Mary first begun to drop out of my head + like,” Mat continued, abstractedly pursuing his previous train of + recollections. “I used to think of her often enough, when I started for my + run in the wild country. That was the time, mind ye, when I had clear + notions about coming back home. I got her a scarlet pouch and another + feather plaything then, knowing she was fond of knick-knacks, and making + it out in my own mind that we two was sure to meet together again. It must + have been a longish while after that, afore I got ashamed to go home. But + I did get ashamed. Thinks I, ‘I haven’t a rap in my pocket to show father, + after being away all this time. I’m getting summut of a savage to look at + already; and Mary would be more frighted than pleased to see me as I am + now. I’ll wait a bit,’ says I, ‘and see if I can’t keep from tramping + about, and try and get a little money, by doing some decent sort of work, + afore I go home.’ I was nigh about a good ten days’ march then from any + seaport where honest work could be got for such as me; but I’d fixed to + try, and I did try, and got work in a ship-builder’s yard. It wasn’t no + good. Tramps’ fever was in my head; and in two days more I was off again + to the wild country, with my gun over my shoulder, just as damned a + vagabond as ever.” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Peckover held up her hands in mute amazement. Matthew, without taking + notice of the action, went on, speaking partly to her and partly to + himself. + </p> + <p> + “It must have been about that time when Mary and father, and all what had + to do with them, begun to drop out of my head. But I kep’ them two + knick-knacks, which was once meant for presents for her—long after + I’d lost all clear notion of ever going back home again, I kep’ ‘em—from + first to last I kep’ ‘em—I can’t hardly say why; unless it was that + I’d got so used to keeping of them that I hadn’t the heart to let ‘em go. + Not, mind ye, but what they mightn’t now and then have set me thinking of + father and Mary at home—at times, you know, when I changed ‘em from + one bag to another, or took and blew the dust off of ‘em, for to keep ‘em + as nice as I could. But the older I got, the worse I got at calling + anything to mind in a clear way about Mary and the old country. There + seemed to be a sort of fog rolling up betwixt us now. I couldn’t see her + face clear, in my own mind, no longer. It come upon me once or twice in + dreams, when I nodded alone over my fire after a tough day’s march—it + come upon me at such times so clear, that it startled me up, all in a cold + sweat, wild and puzzled with not knowing at first whether the stars was + shimmering down at me in father’s paddock at Dibbledean, or in the + lonesome places over the sea, hundreds of miles away from any living soul. + But that was only dreams, you know. Waking, I was all astray now, whenever + I fell a-thinking about father or her. The longer I tramped it over the + lonesome places, the thicker that fog got which seemed to have rose up in + my mind between me and them I’d left at home. At last, it come to darken + in altogether, and never lifted no more, that I can remember, till I + crossed the seas again and got back to my own country.” + </p> + <p> + “But how did you ever think of coming back, after all those years?” asked + Mrs. Peckover. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I got a good heap of money, for once in a way, with digging for + gold in California,” he answered; “and my mate that I worked with, he says + to me one day:—‘I don’t see my way to how we are to spend our money, + now we’ve got it, if we stop here. What can we treat ourselves to in this + place, excepting bad brandy and cards? Let’s go over to the old country, + where there ain’t nothing we want that we can’t get for our money; and, + when it’s all gone, let’s turn tail again, and work for more.’ He wrought + upon me, like that, till I went back with him. We quarreled aboard ship; + and when we got into port, he went his way and I went mine. Not, mind ye, + that I started off at once for the old place as soon as I was ashore. That + fog in my mind, I told you of, seemed to lift a little when I heard my own + language, and saw my own country-people’s faces about me again. And then + there come a sort of fear over me—a fear of going back home at all, + after the time I’d been away. I got over it, though, and went in a day or + two. When I first laid my hand on the churchyard gate that Mary and me + used to swing on, and when I looked up at the old house, with the gable + ends just what they used to be (though the front was new painted, and + strange names was over the shop-door)—then all my time in the wild + country seem to shrivel up somehow, and better than twenty year ago begun + to be a’most like yesterday. I’d seen father’s name in the churchyard—which + was no more than I looked for; but when they told me Mary had never been + brought back, when they said she’d died many a year ago among strange + people, they cut me to the quick.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! no wonder, no wonder!” + </p> + <p> + “It was a wonder to <i>me,</i> though. I should have laughed at any man, + if he’d told me I should be took so at hearing what I heard about her, + after all the time I’d been away. I couldn’t make it out then, and I can’t + now. I didn’t feel like my own man, when I first set eyes on the old + place. And then to hear she was dead—it cut me, as I told you. It + cut me deeper still, when I come to tumble over the things she’d left + behind her in her box. Twenty years ago got nigher and nigher to + yesterday, with every fresh thing belonging to her that I laid a hand on. + There was a arbor in father’s garden she used to be fond of working in of + evenings. I’d lost all thought of that place for more years than I can + reckon up. I called it to mind again—and called <i>her</i> to mind + again, too, sitting and working and singing in the arbor—only with + laying holt of a bit of patchwork stuff in the bottom of her box, with her + needle and thread left sticking in it.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, dear, dear!” sighed Mrs. Peckover, “I wish I’d seen her then! She was + as happy, I dare say, as the bird on the tree. But there’s one thing I + can’t exactly make out yet,” she added—“how did you first come to + know all about Mary’s child?” + </p> + <p> + “All? There wasn’t no <i>all</i> in it, till I see the child herself. + Except knowing that the poor creeter’s baby had been born alive, I knowed + nothing when I first come away from the old place in the country. Child! I + hadn’t nothing of the sort in my mind, when I got back to London. It was + how to track the man as was Mary’s death, that I puzzled and worrited + about in my head, at that time—” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes,” said Mrs. Peckover, interposing to keep him away from the + dangerous subject, as she heard his voice change, and saw his eyes begin + to brighten again. “Yes, yes—but how did you come to see the child? + Tell me that.” + </p> + <p> + “Zack took me into the Painter-man’s big room—” + </p> + <p> + “Zack! Why, good gracious Heavens! do you mean Master Zachary Thorpe?” + </p> + <p> + “I see a young woman standing among a lot of people as was all a staring + at her,” continued Mat, without noticing the interruption. “I see her just + as close to, and as plain, as I see you. I see her look up, all of a + sudden, front face to front face with me. A creeping and a crawling went + through me; and I says to myself, ‘Mary’s child has lived to grow up, and + that’s her.’” + </p> + <p> + “But, do pray tell me, how ever you come to know Master Zack?” + </p> + <p> + “I says to myself ‘That’s her,’” repeated Mat, his rough voice sinking + lower and lower, his attention wandering farther and farther away from + Mrs. Peckover’s interruptions. “Twenty year ago had got to be like + yesterday, when I was down at the old place; and things I hadn’t called to + mind for long times past, I called to mind when I come to the + churchyard-gate, and see father’s house. But there was looks Mary had with + her eyes, turns Mary had with her head, bits of twitches Mary had with her + eyebrows when she looked up at you, that I’d clean forgot. They all come + back to me together, as soon as ever I see that young woman’s face.” + </p> + <p> + “And do you really never mean to let your sister’s child know who you are? + You may tell me that, surely—though you won’t speak a word about + Master Zack.” + </p> + <p> + “Let her know who I am? Mayhap I’ll let her know that much, before long. + When I’m going back to the wild country, I may say to her: ‘Rough as I am + to look at, I’m your mother’s brother, and you’re the only bit of my own + flesh and blood I’ve got left to cotton to in all the world. Give us a + shake of your hand, and a kiss for mother’s sake; and I won’t trouble you + no more.’ I <i>may</i> say that, afore I go back, and lose sight of her + for good and all.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, but you won’t go back. Only you tell Mr. Blyth you don’t want to take + her away, and then say to him, ‘I’m Mr. Grice, and—‘” + </p> + <p> + “Stop! Don’t you get a-talking about Mr. Grice.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not? It’s your lawful name, isn’t it?” + </p> + <p> + “Lawful enough, I dare say. But I don’t like the sound of it, though it is + mine. Father as good as said he was ashamed to own it, when he wrote me + that letter: and I was afraid to own it, when I deserted from my ship. Bad + luck has followed the name from first to last. I ended with it years ago, + and I won’t take up with it again now. Call me ‘Mat.’ Take it as easy with + me as if I was kin to you.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, then—Mat,” said Mrs. Peckover with a smile. “I’ve got such a + many things to ask you still—” + </p> + <p> + “I wish you could make it out to ask them to-morrow,” rejoined Matthew. + “I’ve overdone myself already, with more talking than I’m used to. I want + to be quiet with my tongue, and get to work with my hands for the rest of + the day. You don’t happen to have a foot-rule in the house, do you?” + </p> + <p> + On being asked to explain what motive could induce him to make this + extraordinary demand for a foot-rule, Mat answered that he was anxious to + proceed at once to the renewal of the cross-board at the head of his + sister’s grave. He wanted the rule to measure the dimensions of the old + board: he desired to be directed to a timber-merchant’s, where he could + buy a new piece of wood; and, after that, he would worry Mrs. Peckover + about nothing more. Extraordinary as his present caprice appeared to her, + the good woman saw that it had taken complete possession of him, and + wisely and willingly set herself to humor it. She procured for him the + rule, and the address of a timber-merchant; and then they parted, Mat + promising to call again in the evening at Dawson’s Buildings. + </p> + <p> + When he presented himself at the timber-merchant’s, after having carefully + measured the old board in the churchyard, he came in no humor to be easily + satisfied. Never was any fine lady more difficult to decide about the + texture, pattern, and color to be chosen for a new dress, than Mat, was + when he arrived at the timber-merchant’s, about the grain, thickness, and + kind of wood to be chosen for the cross-board at the head of Mary’s grave. + At last, he selected a piece of walnut-wood; and, having paid the price + demanded for it, without any haggling, inquired next for a carpenter, of + whom he might hire a set of tools. A man who has money to spare, has all + things at his command. Before evening, Mat had a complete set of tools, a + dry shed to use them in, and a comfortable living-room at a public-house + near, all at his own sole disposal. + </p> + <p> + Being skillful enough at all carpenter’s work of an ordinary kind, he + would, under most circumstances, have completed in a day or two such an + employment as he had now undertaken. But a strange fastidiousness, a most + uncharacteristic anxiety about the smallest matters, delayed him through + every stage of his present undertaking. Mrs. Peckover, who came every + morning to see how he was getting on, was amazed at the slowness of his + progress. He was, from the first, morbidly scrupulous in keeping the board + smooth and clean. After he had shaped it, and fitted it to its upright + supports; after he had cut in it (by Mrs. Peckover’s advice) the same + inscription which had been placed on the old board—the simple + initials “M. G.,” with the year of Mary’s death, “1828”—after he had + done these things, he was seized with an unreasonable, obstinate fancy for + decorating the board at the sides. In spite of all that Mrs. Peckover + could say to prevent him, he carved an anchor at one side, and a tomahawk + at the other—these being the objects with which he was most + familiar, and therefore the objects which he chose to represent. But even + when the carving of his extraordinary ornaments had been completed, he + could not be prevailed on to set the new cross-board up in its proper + place. Fondly as artists or authors linger over their last loving touches + to the picture or the book, did Mat now linger, day after day, over the + poor monument to his sister’s memory, which his own rough hands had made. + He smoothed it carefully with bits of sand-paper, he rubbed it + industriously with leather, he polished it anxiously with oil, until, at + last, Mrs. Peckover lost all patience; and, trusting in the influence she + had already gained over him, fairly insisted on his bringing his work to a + close. Even while obeying her, he was still true to his first resolution. + He had said that no man’s hand should help in the labor he had now + undertaken; and he was as good as his word, for he carried the cross-board + himself to the churchyard. + </p> + <p> + All this time, he never once looked at that lock of hair which had been + accustomed to take so frequently from his pocket but a few days back. + Perhaps there was nothing in common between the thought of tracing Arthur + Carr, and the thoughts of Mary that came to him while he was at work on + the walnut-wood plank. + </p> + <p> + But when the cross-board had been set up; when he had cleared away the mud + and brambles about the mound, and had made a smooth little path round it; + when he had looked at his work from all points of view, and had satisfied + himself that he could do nothing more to perfect it, the active, restless, + and violent elements in his nature seemed to awake, as it were, on a + sudden. His fingers began to search again in his pocket for the fatal lock + of hair; and when he and Mrs. Peckover next met, the first words he + addressed to her announced his immediate departure for Dibbledean. + </p> + <p> + She had strengthened her hold on his gratitude by getting him permission, + through the Rector of Bangbury, to occupy himself, without molestation, in + the work of repairing his sister’s grave. She had persuaded him to confide + to her many of the particulars concerning himself which he had refused to + communicate at their first interview. But when she tried, at parting, to + fathom what his ultimate intentions really were, now that he was leaving + Bangbury with the avowed purpose of discovering Arthur Carr, she failed to + extract from him a single sentence of explanation, or even so much as a + word of reply. When he took his farewell, he charged her not to + communicate their meeting to Mr. Blyth, till she heard from him or saw him + again; and he tried once more to thank her in as fit words as he could + command, for the pity and kindness she had shewn towards Mary Grice; but, + to the very last, he closed his lips resolutely on the ominous subject of + Arthur Carr. + </p> + <p> + He had been a fortnight absent from London, when he set forth once more + for Dibbledean, to try that last chance of tracing out the hidden man, + which might be afforded him by a search among the papers of Joanna Grice. + </p> + <p> + The astonishment and delight of Mr. Tatt when Matthew, appearing in the + character of a client at the desolate office door, actually announced + himself as the sole surviving son of old Joshua Grice, flowed out in such + a torrent of congratulatory words, that Mat was at first literally + overwhelmed by them. He soon recovered himself, however; and while Mr. + Tatt was still haranguing fluently about proving his client’s identity, + and securing his client’s right of inheritance, silenced the solicitor, by + declaring as bluntly as usual, that he had not come to Dibbledean to be + helped to get hold of money, but to be helped to get hold of Joanna + Grice’s papers. This extraordinary announcement produced a long + explanation and a still longer discussion, in the middle of which Mat lost + his patience, and declared that he would set aside all legal obstacles and + delays forthwith, by going to Mr. Nawby’s office, and demanding of that + gentleman, as the official guardian of the late Miss Grice’s papers, + permission to look over the different documents which the old woman might + have left behind her. + </p> + <p> + It was to no earthly purpose that Mr. Tatt represented this course of + proceeding as unprofessional, injudicious, against etiquette, and utterly + ruinous, looked at from any point of view. While he was still + expostulating, Matthew was stepping out at the door; and Mr. Tatt, who + could not afford to lose even this most outrageous and unmanageable of + clients, had no other alternative but to make the best of it, and run + after him. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Nawby was a remarkably lofty, solemn, and ceremonious gentleman, + feeling as bitter a hatred and scorn for Mr. Tatt as it is well possible + for one legal human being to entertain toward another. There is no doubt + that he would have received the irregular visit of which he was now the + object with the most chilling contempt, if he had only been allowed time + to assert his own dignity. But before he could utter a single word, + Matthew, in defiance of all that Mr. Tatt could say to silence him, first + announced himself in his proper character; and then, after premising that + he came to worry nobody about money matters, coolly added that he wanted + to look over the late Joanna Grice’s letters and papers directly, for a + purpose which was not of the smallest consequence to anyone but himself. + </p> + <p> + Under ordinary circumstances, Mr. Nawby would have simply declined to hold + any communication with Mat, until his identity had been legally proved. + But the prosperous solicitor of Dibbledean had a grudge against the + audacious adventurer who had set up in practice against him; and he + therefore resolved to depart a little on this occasion from the strictly + professional course, for the express purpose of depriving Mr. Tatt of as + many prospective six-and-eight-pences as possible. Waving his hand + solemnly, when Mat had done speaking, he said: “Wait a moment, sir,” then + rang a bell and ordered in his head clerk. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Mr. Scutt,” said Mr. Nawby, loftily addressing the clerk, “have the + goodness to be a witness in the first place, that I protest against this + visit on Mr. Tatt’s part, as being indecorous, unprofessional, and + unbusiness-like. In the second place, be a witness, also, that I do not + admit the identity of this party,” (pointing to Mat), “and that what I am + now about to say to him, I say under protest, and denying <i>pro forma</i> + that he is the party he represents himself to be. You thoroughly + understand, Mr. Scutt?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Scutt bowed reverently. Mr. Nawby went on. + </p> + <p> + “If your business connection, sir, with that party,” he said, addressing + Matthew, and indicating Mr. Tatt, “was only entered into to forward the + purpose you have just mentioned to me, I beg to inform you (denying, you + will understand, at the same time, your right to ask for such information) + that you may wind up matters with your solicitor whenever you please. The + late Miss Grice has left neither letters nor papers. I destroyed them all, + by her own wish, in her own presence, and under her own written authority, + during her last illness. My head clerk here, who was present to assist me, + will corroborate the statement, if you wish it.” + </p> + <p> + Mat listened attentively to these words, but listened to nothing more. A + sturdy legal altercation immediately ensued between the two solicitors—but + it hardly reached his ears. Mr. Tatt took his arm, and led him out, + talking more fluently than ever; but he had not the poorest trifle of + attention to bestow on Mr. Tatt. All his faculties together seemed to be + absorbed by this one momentous consideration: Had he really and truly lost + the last chance of tracing Arthur Carr? + </p> + <p> + When they got into the High Street, his mind somewhat recovered its + freedom of action, and he began to feel the necessity of deciding at once + on his future movements. Now that his final resource had failed him, what + should he do next? It was useless to go back to Bangbury, useless to + remain at Dibbledean. Yet the fit was on him to be moving again somewhere—better + even to return to Kirk Street than to remain irresolute and inactive on + the scene of his defeat. + </p> + <p> + He stopped suddenly; and saying—“It’s no good waiting here now; I + shall go back to London;” impatiently shook himself free of Mr. Tatt’s arm + in a moment. He found it by no means so easy, however, to shake himself + free of Mr. Tatt’s legal services. “Depend on my zeal,” cried this + energetic solicitor, following Matthew pertinaciously on his way to the + station. “If there’s law in England, your identity shall be proved and + your rights respected. I intend to throw myself into this case, heart and + soul. Money, Justice, Law, Morality, are all concerned—One moment, + my dear sir! If you must really go back to London, oblige me at any rate, + with your address, and just state in a cursory way, whether you were + christened or not at Dibbledean church. I want nothing more to begin with—absolutely + nothing more, on my word of honor as a professional man.” + </p> + <p> + Willing in his present mood to say or do anything to get rid of his + volunteer solicitor, Mat mentioned his address in Kirk Street, and the + name by which he was known there, impatiently said “Yes,” to the inquiry + as to whether he had been christened at Dibbledean church—and then + abruptly turning away, left Mr. Tatt standing in the middle of the high + road, excitably making a note of the evidence just collected, in a new + legal memorandum-book. + </p> + <p> + As soon as Mat was alone, the ominous question suggested itself to him + again: Had he lost the last chance of tracing Arthur Carr? Although + inexorable facts seemed now to prove past contradiction that he had—even + yet he held to his old superstition more doggedly and desperately than + ever. Once more, on his way to the station, he pulled out the lock of + hair, and obstinately pondered over it. Once more, while he journeyed to + London, that strange conviction upheld him, which had already supported + him under previous checks. “I shall find him,” thought Mat, whirling along + in the train. “I don’t care where he’s hid away from me, I shall find him + yet!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XV. THE DISCOVERY OF ARTHUR CARR. + </h2> + <p> + While Matthew Grice was traveling backwards and forwards between town and + town in the midland counties, the life led by his young friend and comrade + in the metropolis, was by no means devoid of incident and change. Zack had + met with his adventures as well as Mat; one of them, in particular, being + of such a nature, or, rather, leading to such results, as materially + altered the domestic aspect of the lodgings in Kirk Street. + </p> + <p> + True to his promise to Valentine, Zack, on the morning of his friend’s + departure for the country, presented himself at Mr. Strather’s house, with + his letter of introduction, punctually at eleven o’clock; and was fairly + started in life by that gentleman, before noon on the same day, as a + student of the Classic beau-ideal in the statue-halls of the British + Museum. He worked away resolutely enough till the rooms were closed; and + then returned to Kirk Street, not by any means enthusiastically devoted to + his new occupation; but determined to persevere in it, because he was + determined to keep to his word. + </p> + <p> + His new profession wore, however, a much more encouraging aspect when Mr. + Strather introduced him, in the evening, to the private Academy. Here, + live people were the models to study from. Here he was free to use the + palette, and to mix up the pinkest possible flesh tints with bran-new + brushes. Here were high-spirited students of the fine arts, easy in + manners and picturesque in personal appearance, with whom he contrived to + become intimate directly. And here, to crown all, was a Model, sitting for + the chest and arms, who had been a great prize-fighter, and with whom Zack + joyfully cemented the bonds of an eternal (pugilistic) friendship, on the + first night of his admission to Mr. Strather’s Academy. + </p> + <p> + All through the second day of his probation as a student, he labored at + his drawing with immense resolution and infinitesimal progress. All + through the evening he daubed away industriously under Mr. Strather’s + supervision, until the Academy sitting was suspended. It would have been + well for him if he had gone home as soon as he laid down his brushes. But + in an evil hour he lingered after the studies of the evening were over, to + have a gossip with the prize-fighting Model; and in an indiscreet moment + he consented to officiate as one of the patrons at an exhibition of + sparring, to be held that night in a neighboring tavern, for the + ex-pugilist’s benefit. + </p> + <p> + After being conducted in an orderly manner enough for some little time, + the pugilistic proceedings of the evening were suddenly interrupted by one + of the Patrons present (who was also a student at the Drawing Academy), + declaring that his pocket had been picked, and insisting that the room + door should be closed and the police summoned immediately. Great confusion + and disturbance ensued, amid which Zack supported the demand of his + fellow-student—perhaps a little too warmly. At any rate, a gentleman + sitting opposite to him, with a patch over one eye, and a nose broken in + three places, swore that young Thorpe had personally insulted him by + implying that he was the thief; and vindicated his moral character by + throwing a cheese-plate at Zack’s head. The missile struck the mark (at + the side, however, instead of in front), and breaking when it struck, + inflicted what appeared to every unprofessional eye that looked at the + injury like a very extensive and dangerous wound. + </p> + <p> + The chemist to whom Zack was taken in the first instance to be bandaged, + thought little of the hurt; but the local doctor who was called in, after + the lad’s removal to Kirk Street, did not take so reassuring a view of the + patient’s case. The wound was certainly not situated in a very dangerous + part of the head; but it had been inflicted at a time when Zack’s + naturally full-blooded constitution was in a very unhealthy condition, + from the effects of much more ardent spirit-drinking than was at all good + for him. Bad fever symptoms set in immediately, and appearances became + visible in the neighborhood of the wound, at which the medical head shook + ominously. In short, Zack was now confined to his bed, with the worst + illness he had ever had in his life, and with no friend to look after him + except the landlady of the house. + </p> + <p> + Fortunately for him, his doctor was a man of skill and energy, who knew + how to make the most of all the advantages which the patient’s youth and + strength could offer to assist the medical treatment. In ten days’ time, + young Thorpe was out of danger of any of the serious inflammatory results + which had been apprehended from the injury to his head. + </p> + <p> + Wretchedly weak and reduced—unwilling to alarm his mother by + informing her of his illness—without Valentine to console him, or + Mat to amuse him, Zack’s spirits now sank to a far lower ebb than they had + ever fallen to before. In his present state of depression, feebleness, and + solitude, there were moments when he doubted of his own recovery, in spite + of all that the doctor could tell him. While in this frame of mind, the + remembrance of the last sad report he had heard of his father’s health, + affected him very painfully, and he bitterly condemned himself for never + having written so much as a line to ask Mr. Thorpe’s pardon since he had + left home. He was too weak to use the pen himself; but the tobacconist’s + wife—a slovenly, showy, kind-hearted woman—was always ready to + do anything to serve him; and he determined to make his mind a little + easier by asking her to write a few penitent lines for him, and by having + the letter despatched immediately to his father’s address in Baregrove + Square. His landlady had long since been made the confidant of all his + domestic tribulations (for he freely communicated them to everybody with + whom he was brought much in contact); and she showed, therefore, no + surprise, but on the contrary expressed great satisfaction, when his + request was preferred to her. This was the letter which Zack, with tearful + eyes and faltering voice, dictated to the tobacconist’s wife:— + </p> + <p> + “MY DEAR FATHER,—I am truly sorry for never having written to ask + you to forgive me before. I write now, and beg your pardon with all my + heart, for I am indeed very penitent, and ashamed of myself. If you will + only let me have another trial, and will not be too hard upon me at first, + I will do my best never to give you any more trouble. Therefore, pray + write to me at 14, Kirk Street, Wendover Market, where I am now living + with a friend who has been very kind to me. Please give my dear love to + mother, and believe me your truly penitent son, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Z. THORPE, jun.” + </pre> + <p> + Having got through this letter pretty easily, and finding that the + tobacconist’s wife was quite ready to write another for him if he pleased, + Zack resolved to send a line to Mr. Blyth, who, as well as he could + calculate, might now be expected to return from the country every day. On + the evening when he had been brought home with the wound in his head, he + had entreated that his accident might be kept a secret from Mrs. Blyth + (who knew his address), in case she should send after him. This + preliminary word of caution was not uselessly spoken. Only three days + later a note was brought from Mrs. Blyth, upbraiding him for never having + been near the house during Valentine’s absence, and asking him to come and + drink tea that evening. The messenger, who waited for an answer, was sent + back with the most artful verbal excuse which the landlady could provide + for the emergency, and no more notes had been delivered since. Mrs. Blyth + was doubtless not overwell satisfied with the cool manner in which her + invitation had been received. + </p> + <p> + In his present condition of spirits, Zack’s conscience upbraided him + soundly for having thought of deceiving Valentine by keeping him in + ignorance of what had happened. Now that Mat seemed, by his long absence, + to have deserted Kirk Street for ever, there was a double attraction and + hope for the weary and heart-sick Zack in the prospect of seeing the + painter’s genial face by his bedside. To this oldest, kindest, and most + merciful of friends, therefore, he determined to confess, what he dare not + so much as hint to his own father. + </p> + <p> + The note which, by the assistance of the tobacconist’s wife, he now + addressed to Valentine, was as characteristically boyish, and even + childish in tone, as the note which he had sent to his father. It ran + thus: + </p> + <p> + “MY DEAR BLYTH,—I begin to wish I had never been born; for I have + got into another scrape—having been knocked on the head by a + prize-fighter with a cheese-plate. It was wrong in me to go where I did, I + know. But I went to Mr. Strather, just as you told me, and stuck to my + drawing—I did indeed! Pray do come, as soon as ever you get back—I + send this letter to make sure of getting you at once. I am so miserable + and lonely, and too weak still to get out of bed. + </p> + <p> + “My landlady is very good and kind to me; but, as for that old vagabond, + Mat, he has been away in the country, I don’t know how long, and has never + written to me. Please, please do come! and don’t blow me up much if you + can help it, for I am so weak I can hardly keep from crying when I think + of what has happened. Ever yours, + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Z. THORPE, jun. +</pre> + <p> + “P. S. If you have got any of my money left by you, I should be very glad + if you would bring it. I haven’t a farthing, and there are several little + things I ought to pay for.” + </p> + <p> + This letter, and the letter to Mr. Thorpe, after being duly sealed and + directed, were confided for delivery to a private messenger. They were + written on the same day which had been occupied by Matthew Grice in + visiting Mr. Tatt and Mr. Nawby, at Dibbledean. And the coincidences of + time so ordered it, that while Zack’s letters were proceeding to their + destinations, in the hand of the messenger, Zack’s fellow-lodger was also + proceeding to his destination in Kirk Street, by the fast London train. + </p> + <p> + Baregrove Square was nearer to the messenger than Valentine’s house, so + the first letter that he delivered was that all-important petition for the + paternal pardon, on the favorable reception of which depended Zack’s last + chance of reconciliation with home. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Thorpe sat alone in his dining-parlor—the same dining-parlor in + which, so many weary years ago, he had argued with old Mr. Goodworth, + about his son’s education. Mrs. Thorpe, being confined to her room by a + severe cold, was unable to keep him company—the doctor had just + taken leave of him—friends in general were forbidden, on medical + authority, to excite him by visits—he was left lonely, and he had + the prospect of remaining lonely for the rest of the day. That total + prostration of the nervous system, from which the doctor had declared him + to be now suffering, showed itself painfully, from time to time, in his + actions as well as his looks—in his sudden startings when an + unexpected noise occurred in the house, in the trembling of his wan + yellowish-white hand whenever he lifted it from the table, in the + transparent paleness of his cheeks, in the anxious uncertainty of his + ever-wandering eves. + </p> + <p> + His attention was just now directed on an open letter lying near him—a + letter fitted to encourage and console him, if any earthly hopes could + still speak of happiness to his heart, or any earthly solace still + administer repose to his mind. + </p> + <p> + But a few days back, his wife’s entreaties and the doctor’s advice had at + length prevailed on him to increase his chances of recovery, by resigning + the post of secretary to one of the Religious Societies to which he + belonged. The letter he was now looking at, had been written officially to + inform him that the members of the Society accepted his resignation with + the deepest regret; and to prepare him for a visit on the morrow from a + deputation charged to present him with an address and testimonial—both + of which had been unanimously voted by the Society “in grateful and + affectionate recognition of his high character and eminent services, while + acting as their secretary.” He had not been able to resist the temptation + of showing this letter to the doctor; and he could not refrain from + reading it once again now, before he put it back in his desk. It was, in + his eyes, the great reward and the great distinction of his life. + </p> + <p> + He was still lingering thoughtfully over the last sentence, when Zack’s + letter was brought in to him. It was only for a moment that he had dared + to taste again the sweetness of a well-won triumph—but even in that + moment, there mingled with it the poisoning bitter of every past + association that could pain him most!—With a heavy sigh, he put away + the letter from the friends who honored him, and prepared to answer the + letter from the son who had deserted him. + </p> + <p> + There was grief, but no anger in his face, as he read it over for the + second time. He sat thinking for a little while—then drew towards + him his inkstand and paper—hesitated—wrote a few lines—and + paused again, putting down the pen this time, and covering his eyes with + his thin trembling hand. After sitting thus for some minutes, he seemed to + despair of being able to collect his thoughts immediately, and to resolve + on giving his mind full time to compose itself. He shut up his son’s + letter and his own unfinished reply together in the paper-case. But there + was some re-assuring promise for Zack’s future prospects contained even in + the little that he had already written; and the letter suggested + forgiveness at the very outset; for it began with, “My dear Zachary.” + </p> + <p> + On delivering Zack’s second note at Valentine’s house, the messenger was + informed that Mr. Blyth was expected back on the next day, or on the day + after that, at the latest. Having a discretionary power to deal as she + pleased with her husband’s correspondence, when he was away from home, + Mrs. Blyth opened the letter as soon as it was taken up to her. Madonna + was in the room at the time, with her bonnet and shawl on, just ready to + go out for her usual daily walk, with Patty the housemaid for a companion, + in Valentine’s absence. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that wretched, wretched Zack!” exclaimed Mrs. Blyth, looking + seriously distressed and alarmed, the moment her eyes fell on the first + lines of the letter. “He must be ill indeed,” she added, looking closely + at the handwriting; “for he has evidently not written this himself.” + </p> + <p> + Madonna could not hear these words, but she could see the expression which + accompanied their utterance, and could indicate by a sign her anxiety to + know what had happened. Mrs. Blyth ran her eye quickly over the letter, + and ascertaining that there was nothing in it which Madonna might not be + allowed to read, beckoned to the girl to look over her shoulder, as the + easiest and shortest way of explaining what was the matter. + </p> + <p> + “How distressed Valentine will be to hear of this!” thought Mrs. Blyth, + summoning Patty up-stairs by a pull at her bell-rope, while Madonna was + eagerly reading the letter. The housemaid appeared immediately, and was + charged by her mistress to go to Kirk Street at once; and after inquiring + of the landlady about Zack’s health, to get a written list of any comforts + he might want, and bring it back as soon as possible. “And mind you leave + a message,” pursued Mrs. Blyth, in conclusion, “to say that he need not + trouble himself about money matters, for your master will come back from + the country, either to-morrow or next day.” + </p> + <p> + Here her attention was suddenly arrested by Madonna, who was eagerly and + even impatiently signing on her fingers: “What are you saying to Patty? + Oh! do let me know what you are saying to Patty?” + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Blyth repeated, by means of the deaf-and-dumb alphabet, the + instructions which she had just given to the servant; and added—observing + the paleness and agitation of Madonna’s face—“Let us not frighten + ourselves unnecessarily, my dear, about Zack; he may turn out to be much + better than we think him from reading his letter.” + </p> + <p> + “May I go with Patty?” rejoined Madonna, her eyes sparkling with anxiety, + her fingers trembling as they rapidly formed these words. “Let me take my + walk with Patty, just as if nothing had happened. Let me go! pray, let me + go!” + </p> + <p> + “She can’t be of any use, poor child,” thought Mrs. Blyth; “but if I keep + her here, she will only be fretting herself into one of her violent + headaches. Besides, she may as well have her walk now, for I shan’t be + able to spare Patty later in the day.” Influenced by these considerations, + Mrs. Blyth, by a nod, intimated to her adopted child that she might + accompany the housemaid to Kirk Street. Madonna, the moment this + permission was granted, led the way out of the room; but stopped as soon + as she and Patty were alone on the staircase, and, making a sign that she + would be back directly, ran up to her own bed-chamber. + </p> + <p> + When she entered the room, she unlocked a little dressing-case that + Valentine had given to her; and, emptying out of one of the trays four + sovereigns and some silver, all her savings from her own pocket-money, + wrapped them up hastily in a piece of paper, and ran down stairs again to + Patty. Zack was ill, and lonely, and miserable; longing for a friend to + sit by his bedside and comfort him—and she could not be that friend! + But Zack was also poor; she had read it in his letter; there were many + little things he wanted to pay for; he needed money—and in that need + she might secretly be a friend to him, for she had money of her own to + give away. + </p> + <p> + “My four golden sovereigns shall be the first he has,” thought Madonna, + nervously taking the housemaid’s offered arm at the house-door. “I will + put them in some place where he is sure to find them, and never to know + who they come from. And Zack shall be rich again—rich with all the + money I have got to give him.” Four sovereigns represented quite a little + fortune in Madonna’s eyes. It had taken her a long, long time to save them + out of her small allowance of pocket-money. + </p> + <p> + When they knocked at the private door of the tobacco-shop, it was opened + by the landlady, who, after hearing what their errand was from Patty, and + answering some preliminary inquiries after Zack, politely invited them to + walk into her back parlor. But Madonna seemed—quite incomprehensibly + to the servant—to be bent on remaining in the passage till she had + finished writing some lines which she had just then begun to trace on her + slate. When they were completed, she showed them to Patty, who read with + considerable astonishment these words: “Ask where his sitting-room is, and + if I can go into it. I want to leave something for him there with my own + hands, if the room is empty.” + </p> + <p> + After looking at her young mistress’s eager face in great amazement for a + moment or two, Patty asked the required questions; prefacing them with + some words of explanation which drew from the tobacconist’s wife many + voluble expressions of sympathy and admiration for Madonna. At last, there + came to an end; and the desired answers to the questions on the slate were + readily given enough, and duly, though rather slowly, written down by + Patty, for her young lady’s benefit. The sitting-room belonging to Mr. + Thorpe and the other gentleman, was the front room on the first floor. + Nobody was in it now. Would the lady like to be shown— + </p> + <p> + Here Madonna arrested the servant’s further progress with the slate pencil—nodded + to indicate that she understood what had been written—and then, with + her little packet of money ready in her hand, lightly ran up the first + flight of stairs; ascending them so quickly that she was on the landing + before Patty and the landlady had settled which of the two ought to have + officially preceded her. + </p> + <p> + The front room was indeed empty when she entered it, but one of the + folding doors leading into the back room had been left ajar; and when she + looked towards the opening thus made, she also looked, from the particular + point of view she then occupied, towards the head of the bed on which Zack + lay, and saw his face turned towards her, hushed in deep, still, + breathless sleep. + </p> + <p> + She started violently—trembled a little—then stood motionless, + looking towards him through the door; the tears standing thick in her + eyes, the color gone from her cheeks, the yearning pulses of grief and + pity beating faster and faster in her heart. Ah! how pale and wan and + piteously still he lay there, with the ghastly white bandages round his + head, and one helpless, languid hand hanging over the bedside! How changed + from that glorious creature, all youth, health, strength, and exulting + activity, whom it had so long been her innocent idolatry to worship in + secret! How fearfully like what might be the image of him in death, was + the present image of him as he lay in his hushed and awful sleep! She + shuddered as the thought crossed her mind, and drying the tears that + obscured her sight, turned a little away from him, and looked round the + room. Her quick feminine eyes detected at a glance all its squalid + disorder, all its deplorable defects of comfort, all its repulsive + unfitness as a habitation for the suffering and the sick. Surely a little + money might help Zack to a better place to recover in! Surely <i>her</i> + money might be made to minister in this way to his comfort, his happiness, + and even his restoration to health! + </p> + <p> + Full of this idea, she advanced a step or two, and sought for a proper + place on the one table in the room, in which she might put her packet of + money. + </p> + <p> + While she was thus engaged, an old newspaper, with some hair lying in it, + caught her eye. The hair was Zack’s and was left to be thrown away; having + been cut off that very morning by the doctor, who thought that enough had + not been removed from the neighborhood of the wound by the barber + originally employed to clear the hair from the injured side of the + patient’s head. Madonna had hardly looked at the newspaper before she + recognized the hair in it as Zack’s by its light-brown color, and by the + faint golden tinge running through it. One little curly lock, lying rather + apart from the rest, especially allured her eyes; she longed to take it as + a keepsake—a keepsake which Zack would never know that she + possessed! For a moment she hesitated, and in that moment the longing + became an irresistible temptation. After glancing over her shoulder to + assure herself that no one had followed her upstairs, she took the lock of + hair, and quickly hid it away in her bosom. + </p> + <p> + Her eyes had assured her that there was no one in the room; but, if she + had not been deprived of the sense of hearing, she would have known that + persons were approaching it, by the sound of voices on the stairs—a + man’s voice being among them. Necessarily ignorant, however, of this, she + advanced unconcernedly, after taking the lock of hair, from the table to + the chimney-piece, which it struck her might be the safest place to leave + the money on. She had just put it down there, when she felt the slight + concussion caused by the opening and closing of the door behind her; and + turning round instantly, confronted Patty, the landlady, and the strange + swarthy-faced friend of Zack’s, who had made her a present of the scarlet + tobacco-pouch. + </p> + <p> + Terror and confusion almost overpowered her, as she saw him advance to the + chimney-piece and take up the packet she had just placed there. He had + evidently opened the room-door in time to see her put it down; and he was + now deliberately unfolding the paper and examining the money inside. + </p> + <p> + While he was thus occupied, Patty came close up to her, and, with rather a + confused and agitated face, began writing on her slate, much faster and + much less correctly than usual. She gathered, however, from the few + crooked lines scrawled by the servant, that Patty had been very much + startled by the sudden entrance of the landlady’s rough lodger, who had + let himself in from the street, just as she was about to follow her young + mistress up to the sitting-room, and had uncivilly stood in her way on the + stairs, while he listened to what the good woman of the house had to tell + him about young Mr. Thorpe’s illness. Confused as the writing was on the + slate, Madonna contrived to interpret it thus far, and would have gone on + interpreting more, if she had not felt a heavy hand laid on her arm, and + had not, on looking round, seen Zack’s friend making signs to her, with + her money loose in his hand. + </p> + <p> + She felt confused, but not frightened now; for his eyes, as she looked + into them, expressed neither suspicion nor anger. They rested on her face + kindly and sadly, while he first pointed to the money in his hand, and + then to her. She felt that her color was rising, and that it was a hard + matter to acknowledge the gold and silver as being her own property; but + she did so acknowledge it. He then pointed to himself; and when she shook + her head, pointed through the folding doors into Zack’s room. Her cheeks + began to burn, and she grew suddenly afraid to look at him; but it was no + harder trial to confess the truth than shamelessly to deny it by making a + false sign. So she looked up at him again, and bravely nodded her head. + </p> + <p> + His eyes seemed to grow clearer and softer as they still rested kindly on + her; but he made her take back the money immediately, and, holding her + hand as he did so, detained it for a moment with a curious awkward + gentleness. Then, after first pointing again to Zack’s room, he began to + search in the breast-pocket of his coat, took from it at one rough grasp + some letters tied together loosely, and a clumsy-looking rolled-up strip + of fur, put the letters aside on the table behind him, and, unrolling the + fur, showed her that there were bank-notes in it. She understood him + directly—he had money of his own for Zack’s service, and wanted none + from her. + </p> + <p> + After he had replaced the strip of fur in his pocket, he took up the + letters from the table to be put back also. As he reached them towards + him, a lock of hair, which seemed to have accidentally got between them, + fell out on the floor just at her feet. She stooped to pick it up for him; + and was surprised, as she did so, to see that it exactly resembled in + color the lock of Zack’s hair which she had taken from the old newspaper, + and had hidden in her bosom. + </p> + <p> + She was surprised at this; and she was more than surprised, when he + angrily and abruptly snatched up the lock of hair, just as she touched it. + Did he think that she wanted to take it away from him? If he did, it was + easy to show him that a lock of Zack’s hair was just now no such rarity + that people need quarrel about the possession of it. She reached her hand + to the table behind, and, taking some of the hair from the old newspaper, + held it up to him with a smile, just as he was on the point of putting his + own lock of hair back in his pocket. + </p> + <p> + For a moment he did not seem to comprehend what her action meant; then the + resemblance between the hair in her hand and the hair in his own, struck + him suddenly. + </p> + <p> + The whole expression of his face changed in an instant—changed so + darkly that she recoiled from him in terror, and put back the hair into + the newspaper. He pounced on it directly; and, crunching it up in his + hand, turned his grim threatening face and fiercely-questioning eyes on + the landlady. While she was answering his inquiry, Madonna saw him look + towards Zack’s bed; and, as he looked, another change passed over his face—the + darkness faded from it, and the red scars on his cheek deepened in color. + He moved back slowly to the further corner of the room from the + folding-doors; his restless eyes fixed in a vacant stare, one of his hands + clutched round the old newspaper, the other motioning clumsily and + impatiently to the astonished and alarmed women to leave him. + </p> + <p> + Madonna had felt Patty’s hand pulling at her arm more than once during the + last minute or two. She was now quite as anxious as her companion to quit + the house. They went out quickly, not venturing to look at Mat again; and + the landlady followed them. She and Patty had a long talk together at the + street door—evidently, judging by the expression of their faces, + about the conduct of the rough lodger up-stairs. But Madonna felt no + desire to be informed particularly of what they were saying to each other. + Much as Matthew’s strange behavior had surprised and startled her, he was + not the uppermost subject in her mind just then. It was the discovery of + her secret, the failure of her little plan for helping Zack with her own + money, that she was now thinking of with equal confusion and dismay. She + had not been in the front room at Kirk Street much more than five minutes + altogether—yet what a succession of untoward events had passed in + that short space of time! + </p> + <p> + For a long while after the women had left him, Mat stood motionless in the + furthest corner of the room from the folding-doors, looking vacantly + towards Zack’s bedchamber. His first surprise on finding a stranger + talking in the passage, when he let himself in from the street; his first + vexation on hearing of Zack’s accident from the landlady; his momentary + impulse to discover himself to Mary’s child, when he saw Madonna standing + in his room, and again when he knew that she had come there with her + little offering, for the one kind purpose of helping the sick lad in his + distress—all these sensations were now gone from his memory as well + as from his heart; absorbed in the one predominant emotion with which the + discovery of the resemblance between Zack’s hair and the hair from Jane + Holdworth’s letter now filled him. No ordinary shocks could strike Mat’s + mind hard enough to make it lose its balance—<i>this</i> shock + prostrated it in an instant. + </p> + <p> + In proportion as he gradually recovered his self-possession so did the + desire strengthen in him to ascertain the resemblance between the two + kinds of hair once more—but in such a manner as it had not been + ascertained yet. He stole gently to the folding-doors and looked into + young Thorpe’s room. Zack was still asleep. + </p> + <p> + After pausing for a moment, and shaking his head sorrowfully, as he + noticed how pale and wasted the lad’s face looked, he approached the + pillow, and laid the lock of Arthur Carr’s hair upon it, close to the + uninjured side of Zack’s head. It was then late in the afternoon, but not + dusk yet. No blind hung over the bedroom window, and all the light in the + sky streamed full on to the pillow as Mat’s eyes fastened on it. + </p> + <p> + The similarity between the sleeper’s hair and the hair of Arthur Carr was + perfect! Both were of the same light brown color, and both had running + through that color the same delicate golden tinge, brightly visible in the + light, hardly to be detected at all in the shade. + </p> + <p> + Why had this extraordinary resemblance never struck him before? Perhaps + because he had never examined Arthur Carr’s hair with attention until he + had possessed himself of Mary’s bracelet, and had gone away to the + country. Perhaps also because he had never yet taken notice enough of + Zack’s hair to care to look close at it. And now the resemblance was + traced, to what conclusion did it point? Plainly, from Zack’s youth, to + none in connection with <i>him.</i> But what elder relatives had he? and + which of them was he most like? + </p> + <p> + Did he take after his father? + </p> + <p> + Mat was looking down at the sleeper, just then; something in the lad’s + face troubled him, and kept his mind from pursuing that last thought. He + took the lock of hair from the pillow, and went into the front room. There + was anxiety and almost dread in his face, as he thought of the fatally + decisive question in relation to the momentous discovery he had just made, + which must be addressed to Zack when he awoke. He had never really known + how fond he was of his fellow lodger until now, when he was conscious of a + dull, numbing sensation of dismay at the prospect of addressing that + question to the friend who had lived as a brother with him, since the day + when they first met. + </p> + <p> + As the evening closed in, Zack woke. It was a relief to Mat, as he went to + the bedside, to know that his face could not now be clearly seen. The + burden of that terrible question pressed heavily on his heart, while he + held his comrade’s feeble hand; while he answered as considerately, yet as + briefly as he could, the many inquiries addressed to him; and while he + listened patiently and silently to the sufferer’s long, wandering, + faintly-uttered narrative of the accident that had befallen him. Towards + the close of that narrative, Zack himself unconsciously led the way to the + fatal question which Mat longed, yet dreaded to ask him. + </p> + <p> + “Well, old fellow,” he said, turning feebly on his pillow, so as to face + Matthew, “something like what you call the ‘horrors’ has been taking hold + of me. And this morning, in particular, I was so wretched and lonely, that + I asked the landlady to write for me to my father, begging his pardon, and + all that. I haven’t behaved as well as I ought; and, somehow, when a + fellow’s ill and lonely he gets homesick—” + </p> + <p> + His voice began to grow faint, and he left the sentence unfinished. + </p> + <p> + “Zack,” said Mat, turning his face away from the bed while he spoke, + though it was now quite dark. “Zack, what sort of a man is your father?” + </p> + <p> + “What sort of a man! How do you mean?” + </p> + <p> + “To look at. Are you like him in the face?” + </p> + <p> + “Lord help you, Mat! as little like as possible. My father’s face is all + wrinkled and marked.” + </p> + <p> + “Aye, aye, like other old men’s faces. His hair’s grey, I suppose?” + </p> + <p> + “Quite white. By-the-by—talking of that—there <i>is</i> one + point I’m like him in—at least, like what he <i>was,</i> when he was + a young man.” + </p> + <p> + “What’s that?” + </p> + <p> + “What we’ve been speaking of—his hair. I’ve heard my mother say, + when she first married him—just shake up my pillow a bit, will you, + Mat?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes. And what did you hear your mother say?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, nothing particular. Only that when he was a young man, his hair was + exactly like what mine is now.” + </p> + <p> + As those momentous words were spoken, the landlady knocked at the door, + and announced that she was waiting outside with candles, and a nice cup of + tea for the invalid. Mat let her into the bedchamber—then + immediately walked out of it into the front room, and closed the + folding-doors behind him. Brave as he was, he was afraid, at that moment, + to let Zack see his face. + </p> + <p> + He walked to the fireplace, and rested his head and arm on the + chimney-piece—reflected for a little while—then stood upright + again—and searching in his pocket, drew from it once more that fatal + lock of hair, which he had examined so anxiously and so often during his + past fortnight in the country. + </p> + <p> + <i>“Your</i> work’s done,” he said, looking at it for a moment, as it lay + in his hand—then throwing it into the dull red fire which was now + burning low in the grate. <i>“Your</i> work’s done; and mine won’t be long + a-doing.” He rested his head and arm again wearily on the chimney-piece, + and added: + </p> + <p> + “I’m brothers with Zack—there’s the hard part of it!—I’m + brothers with Zack.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVI. THE DAY OF RECKONING. + </h2> + <p> + On the forenoon of the day that followed Mat’s return to Kirk Street, the + ordinarily dull aspect of Baregrove Square was enlivened by a procession + of three handsome private carriages which stopped at Mr. Thorpe’s door. + </p> + <p> + From each carriage there descended gentlemen of highly respectable + appearance, clothed in shining black garments, and wearing, for the most + part, white cravats. One of these gentlemen carried in his hands a + handsome silver inkstand, and another gentleman who followed him, bore a + roll of glossy paper, tied round with a broad ribbon of sober purple hue. + The roll contained an Address to Mr. Thorpe, eulogizing his character in + very affectionate terms; the inkstand was a Testimonial to be presented + after the Address; and the gentlemen who occupied the three private + carriages were all eminent members of the religious society which Mr. + Thorpe had served in the capacity of Secretary, and from which he was now + obliged to secede in consequence of the precarious state of his health. + </p> + <p> + A small and orderly assembly of idle people had collected on the pavement + to see the gentlemen alight, to watch them go into the house, to stare at + the inkstand, to wonder at the Address, to observe that Mr. Thorpe’s page + wore his best livery, and that Mr. Thorpe’s housemaid had on new + cap-ribbons and her Sunday gown. After the street door had been closed, + and these various objects for popular admiration had disappeared, there + still remained an attraction outside in the square, which addressed itself + to the general ear. One of the footmen in attendance on the carriages, had + collected many interesting particulars about the Deputation and the + Testimonial, and while he related them in regular order to another footman + anxious for information, the small and orderly public of idlers stood + round about, and eagerly caught up any stray words explanatory of the + ceremonies then in progress inside the house, which fell in their way. + </p> + <p> + One of the most attentive of these listeners was a swarthy-complexioned + man with bristling whiskers and a scarred face, who had made one of the + assembly on the pavement from the moment of its first congregating. He had + been almost as much stared at by the people about him as the Deputation + itself; and had been set down among them generally as a foreigner of the + most outlandish kind: but, in plain truth, he was English to the + back-bone, being no other than Matthew Grice. + </p> + <p> + Mat’s look, as he stood listening among his neighbors, was now just as + quietly vigilant, his manner just as gruffly self-possessed, as usual. But + it had cost him a hard struggle that morning, in the solitude of one of + his longest and loneliest walks, to compose himself—or, in his + favorite phrase, to “get to be his own man again.” + </p> + <p> + From the moment when he had thrown the lock of hair into the fire, to the + moment when he was now loitering at Mr. Thorpe’s door, <i>he</i> had never + doubted, whatever others might have done, that the man who had been the + ruin of his sister, and the man who was the nearest blood relation of the + comrade who shared his roof, and lay sick at that moment in his bed, were + one and the same. Though he stood now, amid the casual street spectators, + apparently as indolently curious as the most careless among them—looking + at what they looked at, listening to what they listened to, and leaving + the square when they left it—he was resolved all the time to watch + his first opportunity of entering Mr. Thorpe’s house that very day; + resolved to investigate through all its ramifications the secret which he + had first discovered when the fragments of Zack’s hair were playfully held + up for him to look at in the deaf and dumb girl’s hand. + </p> + <p> + The dispersion of the idlers on the pavement was accelerated, and the + footman’s imaginary description of the proceedings then in progress at Mr. + Thorpe’s was cut short, by the falling of a heavy shower. The frost, after + breaking up, had been succeeded that year by prematurely mild spring + weather—April seemed to have come a month before its time. + </p> + <p> + Regardless of the rain, Mat walked slowly up and down the streets round + Baregrove Square, peering every now and then, from afar off, through the + misty shower, to see if the carriages were still drawn up at Mr. Thorpe’s + door. The ceremony of presenting the Testimonial was evidently a + protracted one; for the vehicles were long kept waiting for their owners. + The rain had passed away—the sun had reappeared—fresh clouds + had gathered, and it was threatening a second shower, before the + Deputation from the great Religious Society re-entered their vehicles and + drove out of the square. + </p> + <p> + When they had quitted it, Mat advanced and knocked at Mr. Thorpe’s door. + The clouds rolled up darkly over the sun, and the first warning drops of + the new shower began to fall, as the door opened. + </p> + <p> + The servant hesitated about admitting him. He had anticipated that this + sort of obstacle would be thrown in his way at the outset, and had + provided against it in his own mind beforehand. “Tell your master,” he + said, “that his son is ill, and I’ve come to speak to him about it.” + </p> + <p> + This message was delivered, and had the desired effect. Mat was admitted + into the drawing-room immediately. + </p> + <p> + The chairs occupied by the members of the Deputation had not been moved + away—the handsome silver inkstand was on the table—the + Address, beautifully written on the fairest white paper, lay by it. Mr. + Thorpe stood before the fireplace, and bending over towards the table, + mechanically examined, for the second time, the signatures attached to the + Address, while his strange visitor was being ushered up stairs. + </p> + <p> + Mat’s arrival had interrupted him just at the moment when he was going to + Mrs. Thorpe’s room, to describe to her the Presentation ceremony which she + had not been well enough to attend. He had stopped immediately, and the + faint smile that was on his face had vanished from it, when the news of + his son’s illness reached him through the servant. But the hectic flush of + triumph and pleasure which his interview with the Deputation had called + into his cheeks, still colored them as brightly as ever, when Matthew + Grice entered the room. + </p> + <p> + “You have come, sir,” Mr. Thorpe began, “to tell me—” + </p> + <p> + He hesitated, stammered out another word or two, then stopped. Something + in the expression of the dark and strange face that he saw lowering at him + under the black velvet skull-cap, suspended the words on his lips. In his + present nervous, enfeebled state, any sudden emotions of doubt or + surprise, no matter how slight and temporary in their nature, always + proved too powerful for his self-control, and betrayed themselves in his + speech and manner painfully. + </p> + <p> + Mat said not a word to break the ominous silence. Was he at that moment, + in very truth, standing face to face with Arthur Carr? Could this man—so + frail and meager, with the narrow chest, the drooping figure, the + effeminate pink tinge on his wan wrinkled cheeks—be indeed the man + who had driven Mary to that last refuge, where the brambles and weeds grew + thick, and the foul mud-pools stagnated in the forgotten corner of the + churchyard? + </p> + <p> + “You have come, sir,” resumed Mr. Thorpe, controlling himself by an effort + which deepened the flush on his face, “to tell me news of my son, which I + am not entirely unprepared for. I heard from him yesterday; and, though it + did not strike me at first, I noticed on referring to his letter + afterwards, that it was not in his own handwriting. My nerves are not very + strong, and they have been tried—pleasurably, most pleasurably tried—already + this morning, by such testimonies of kindness and sympathy as it does not + fall to the lot of many men to earn. May I beg you, if your news should be + of an alarming nature (which God forbid!) to communicate it as gently—” + </p> + <p> + “My news is this,” Mat broke in: “Your son’s been hurt in the head, but + he’s got over the worst of it now. He lives with me; I like him; and I + mean to take care of him till he gets on his legs again. That’s my news + about your son. But that’s not all I’ve got to say. I bring you news of + somebody else.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you take a seat, and be good enough to explain yourself?” + </p> + <p> + They sat down at opposite sides of the table, with the Testimonial and the + Address lying between them. The shower outside was beginning to fall at + its heaviest. The splashing noise of the rain and the sound of running + footsteps, as the few foot passengers in the square made for shelter at + the top of their speed, penetrated into the room during the pause of + silence which ensued after they had taken their seats. Mr. Thorpe spoke + first. + </p> + <p> + “May I inquire your name?” he said, in his lowest and calmest tones. + </p> + <p> + Mat did not seem to hear the question. He took up the Address from the + table, looked at the list of signatures, and turned to Mr. Thorpe. + </p> + <p> + “I’ve been hearing about this,” he said. “Are all them names there, the + names of friends of yours?” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Thorpe looked a little astonished; but he answered after a moment’s + hesitation: + </p> + <p> + “Certainly; the most valued friends I have in the world.” + </p> + <p> + “Friends,” pursued Mat, reading to himself the introductory sentence in + the address, <i>“who have put the most affectionate trust in you.”</i> + </p> + <p> + Mr. Thorpe began to look rather offended as well as rather astonished. + “Will you excuse me,” he said coldly, “if I beg you to proceed to the + business that has brought you here.” + </p> + <p> + Mat placed the Address on the table again, immediately in front of him; + and took a pencil from a tray with writing materials in it, which stood + near at hand. “Friends <i>‘who have put the most affectionate trust in + you,’”</i> he repeated. “The name of one of them friends isn’t here. It + ought to be; and I mean to put it down.” + </p> + <p> + As the point of his pencil touched the paper of the Address, Mr. Thorpe + started from his chair. + </p> + <p> + “What am I to understand, sir, by this conduct?” he began haughtily, + stretching out his hand to possess himself of the Address. + </p> + <p> + Mat looked up with the serpent-glitter in his eyes, and the angry red + tinge glowing in the scars on his cheek. “Sit down,” he said, “I’m not + quick at writing. Sit down, and wait till I’m done.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Thorpe’s face began to look a little agitated. He took a step towards + the fireplace, intending to ring the bell. + </p> + <p> + “Sit down, and wait,” Mat reiterated, in quick, fierce, quietly uttered + tones of command, rising from his own chair, and pointing peremptorily to + the seat just vacated by the master of the house. + </p> + <p> + A sudden doubt crossed Mr. Thorpe’s mind, and made him pause before he + touched the bell. Could this man be in his right senses? His actions were + entirely unaccountable—his words and his way of uttering them were + alike strange—his scarred, scowling face looked hardly human at that + moment. Would it be well to summon help? No, worse than useless. Except + the page, who was a mere boy, there were none but women servants in the + house. When he remembered this, he sat down again, and at the same moment + Mat began, clumsily and slowly, to write on the blank space beneath the + last signature attached to the Address. + </p> + <p> + The sky was still darkening apace, the rain was falling heavily and more + heavily, as he traced the final letter, and then handed the paper to Mr. + Thorpe, bearing inscribed on it the name of MARY GRICE. + </p> + <p> + “Read that name,” said Mat. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Thorpe looked at the characters traced by the pencil. His face changed + instantly—he sank down into the chair—one faint cry burst from + his lips—then he was silent. + </p> + <p> + Low, stifled, momentary as it was, that cry proclaimed him to be the man. + He was self-denounced by it even before he cowered down, shuddering in the + chair, with both his hands pressed convulsively over his face. + </p> + <p> + Mat rose to his feet and spoke; eyeing him pitilessly from head to foot. + </p> + <p> + “Not a friend of all of ‘em,” he said, pointing down at the Address, “put + such affectionate trust in you, as she did. When first I see her grave in + the strange churchyard, I said I’d be even with the man who laid her in + it. I’m here to-day to be even with <i>you.</i> Carr or Thorpe, whichever + you call yourself; I know how you used her from first to last! <i>Her</i> + father was <i>my</i> father; <i>her</i> name is <i>my</i> name: you were + <i>her</i> worst enemy three-and-twenty year ago; you are <i>my</i> worst + enemy now. I’m her brother, Matthew Grice!” + </p> + <p> + The hands of the shuddering figure beneath him suddenly dropped—the + ghastly uncovered face looked up at him, with such a panic stare in the + eyes, such a fearful quivering and distortion of all the features, that it + tried even his firmness of nerve to look at it steadily. In spite of + himself; he went back to his chair, and sat down doggedly by the table, + and was silent. + </p> + <p> + A low murmuring and moaning, amid which a few disconnected words made + themselves faintly distinguishable, caused him to look round again. He saw + that the ghastly face was once more hidden. He heard the disconnected + words reiterated, always in the same stifled wailing tones. Now and then, + a half finished phrase was audible from behind the withered hands, still + clasped over the face, He heard such fragments of sentences as these:—“Have + pity on my wife”—“accept the remorse of many years”—“spare me + the disgrace—” + </p> + <p> + After those four last words, he listened for no more. The merciless spirit + was roused in him again the moment he heard them. + </p> + <p> + “Spare you the disgrace?” he repeated, starting to his feet. “Did you + spare <i>her?</i>—Not you!” + </p> + <p> + Once more the hands dropped; once more the ghastly face slowly and + horribly confronted him. But this time he never recoiled from it. There + was no mercy in him—none in his looks, none in his tones—as he + went on. + </p> + <p> + “What! it would disgrace you, would it? Then disgraced you shall be! + You’ve kep’ it a secret, have you? You shall tell that secret to every + soul that comes about the house! You shall own Mary’s disgrace, Mary’s + death, and Mary’s child before every man who’s put his name down on that + bit of paper!—You shall, as soon as to-morrow if I like! You shall, + if I have to bring your child with me to make you; if I have to stand up, + hand in hand along with her, here on your own hearthstone.” + </p> + <p> + He stopped. The cowering figure was struggling upward from the chair: one + of the withered hands, slowly raised, was stretching itself out towards + him; the panic-stricken eyes were growing less vacant, and were staring + straight into his with a fearful meaning in their look; the pale lips were + muttering rapidly—at first he could not tell what; then he succeeded + in catching the two words, “Mary’s child?” quickly, faintly, incessantly + reiterated, until he spoke again, + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” he said, pitiless as ever. “Yes: Mary’s child. Your child. Haven’t + you seen her? Is it <i>that</i> you’re staring and trembling about? Go and + look at her: she lives within gunshot of you. Ask Zack’s friend, the + Painter-Man, to show you the deaf and dumb girl he picked up among the + horse-riders. Look here—look at this bracelet! Do you remember your + own hair in it? The hands that brought up Mary’s child, took that bracelet + from Mary’s pocket. Look at it again! Look at it as close as you like—” + </p> + <p> + Once more he stopped. The frail figure which had been feebly rising out of + the chair, while he held up the Hair Bracelet, suddenly and heavily sank + back in it—he saw the eyelids half close, and a great stillness pass + over the face—he heard one deep-drawn breath: but no cry now, no + moaning, no murmuring—no sound whatever, except the steady splash of + the fast-falling rain on the pavement outside. + </p> + <p> + Dead? + </p> + <p> + A thought of Zack welled up into his heart, and troubled it. + </p> + <p> + He hesitated for a moment, then bent over the chair, and put his hand on + the bosom of the deathly figure reclining in it. A faint fluttering was + still to be felt; and the pulse, when he tried that next, was beating + feebly. It was not death he looked on now, but the swoon that is near + neighbor to it. + </p> + <p> + For a minute or two, he stood with his eyes fixed on the white calm face + beneath him, thinking. “If me and Zack,” he whispered to himself; “hadn’t + been brothers together—” He left the sentence unfinished, took his + hat quickly, and quitted the room. + </p> + <p> + In the passage down-stairs, he met one of the female servants, who opened + the street-door for him. + </p> + <p> + “Your master wants you,” he said, with an effort. He spoke those words, + passed by her, and left the house. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CHAPTER XVII. MATTHEW GRICE’S REVENGE. + </h2> + <p> + Neither looking to the right nor the left, neither knowing nor caring + whither he went, Matthew Grice took the first turning he came to, which + led him out of Baregrove Square. It happened to be the street + communicating with the long suburban road, at the remote extremity of + which Mr. Blyth lived. Mat followed this road mechanically, not casting a + glance at the painter’s abode when he passed it, and taking no notice of a + cab, with luggage on the roof; which drew up, as he walked by, at the + garden gate. If he had only looked round at the vehicle for a moment, he + must have seen Valentine sitting inside it, and counting out the money for + his fare. + </p> + <p> + But he still went on—straight on, looking aside at nothing. He + fronted the wind and the clearing quarter of the sky as he walked. The + shower was now fast subsiding; and the first rays of returning sunlight, + as they streamed through mist and cloud, fell tenderly and warmly on his + face. + </p> + <p> + Though he did not show it outwardly, there was strife and trouble within + him. The name of Zack was often on his lips, and he varied constantly in + his rate of walking; now quickening, now slackening his pace at irregular + intervals. It was evening before he turned back towards home—night, + before he sat down again in the chair by young Thorpe’s bedside. + </p> + <p> + “I’m a deal better to-night, Mat,” said Zack, answering his first + inquiries. “That good fellow, Blyth, has come back: he’s been sitting here + with me a couple of hours or more. Where have you been to all day, you + restless old Rough and Tough?” he continued, with something of his natural + lighthearted manner returning already. “There’s a letter come for you, + by-the-by. The landlady said she would put it on the table in the front + room.” + </p> + <p> + Matthew found and opened the letter, which proved to contain two + enclosures. One was addressed to Mr. Blyth; the other had no direction. + The handwriting in the letter being strange to him, Mat looked first for + the name at the end, and found that it was <i>Thorpe.</i> “Wait a bit,” he + said, as Zack spoke again just then, “I want to read my letter. We’ll talk + after.” + </p> + <p> + This is what he read:— + </p> + <p> + “Some hours have passed since you left my house. I have had time to + collect a little strength and composure, and have received such assistance + and advice as have enabled me to profit by that time. Now I know that I + can write calmly, I send you this letter. + </p> + <p> + “My object is not to ask how you became possessed of the guilty secret + which I had kept from every one—even from my wife—but to offer + you such explanation and confession as you have a right to demand from me. + I do not cavil about that right—I admit that you possess it, without + desiring further proof than your actions, your merciless words, and the + Bracelet in your possession, have afforded me. + </p> + <p> + “It is fit you should first be told that the assumed name by which I was + known at Dibbledean, merely originated in a foolish jest—in a wager + that certain companions of my own age, who were accustomed to ridicule my + fondness for botanical pursuits, and often to follow and disturb me when I + went in search of botanical specimens, would not be able to trace and + discover me in my country retreat. I went to Dibbledean, because the + neighborhood was famous for specimens of rare Ferns, which I desired to + possess; and I took my assumed name before I went, to help in keeping me + from being traced and disturbed by my companions. My father alone was in + the secret, and came to see me once or twice in my retirement. I have no + excuse to offer for continuing to preserve my false name, at a time when I + was bound to be candid about myself and my station in life. My conduct was + as unpardonably criminal in this, as it was in greater things. + </p> + <p> + “My stay at the cottage I had taken, lasted much longer than my father + would have remitted, if I had not deceived him, and if he had not been + much harassed at that time by unforeseen difficulties in his business as a + foreign merchant. These difficulties arrived at last at a climax, and his + health broke down under them. His presence, or the presence of a properly + qualified person to represent him, was absolutely required in Germany, + where one of his business houses, conducted by an agent, was established. + I was his only son; he had taken me as a partner into his London house; + and had allowed me, on the plea of delicate health, to absent myself from + my duties for months and months together, and to follow my favorite + botanical pursuits just as I pleased. When, therefore, he wrote me word + that great part of his property, and great part, consequently, of my + sisters’ fortunes, depended on my going to Germany (his own health not + permitting him to take the journey), I had no choice but to place myself + at his disposal immediately. + </p> + <p> + “I went away, being assured beforehand that my absence would not last more + than three or four months at the most. + </p> + <p> + “While I was abroad, I wrote to your sister constantly. I had treated her + dishonorably and wickedly, but no thought of abandoning her had ever + entered my heart: my dearest hope, at that time, was the hope of seeing + her again. Not one of my letters was answered. I was detained in Germany + beyond the time during which I had consented to remain there; and in the + excess of my anxiety, I even ventured to write twice to your father. Those + letters also remained unanswered. When I at last got back to England, I + immediately sent a person on whom I could rely to Dibbledean, to make the + inquiries which I dreaded to make myself. My messenger was turned from + your doors, with the fearful news of your sister’s flight from home and of + her death. + </p> + <p> + “It was then I first suspected that my letters had been tampered with. It + was then, too, when the violence of my grief and despair had a little + abated, that the news of your sister’s flight inspired me, for the first + time, with a suspicion of the consequence which had followed the + commission of my sin. You may think it strange that this suspicion should + not have occurred to me before. It would seem so no longer, perhaps, if I + detailed to you the peculiar system of home education, by which my father, + strictly and conscientiously, endeavored to preserve me—as other + young men are not usually preserved—from the moral contaminations of + the world. But it would be useless to dwell on this now. No explanations + can alter the events of the guilty and miserable past. + </p> + <p> + “Anxiously—though privately, and in fear and trembling—I + caused such inquiries to be made as I hoped might decide the question + whether the child existed or not. They were long persevered in, but they + were useless—useless, perhaps, as I now think with bitter sorrow, + because I trusted them to others, and had not the courage to make them + openly myself. + </p> + <p> + “Two years after that time I married, under circumstances not of an + ordinary kind—what circumstances you have no claim to know. <i>That</i> + part of my life is my secret and my wife’s, and belongs to us alone. + </p> + <p> + “I have now dwelt long enough for your information on my own guilty share + in the events of the Past. As to the Present and the Future, I have still + a word or two left to say. + </p> + <p> + “You have declared that I shall expiate, by the exposure of my shameful + secret before all my friends, the wrong your sister suffered at my hands. + My life has been one long expiation for that wrong. My broken health, my + altered character, my weary secret sorrows, unpartaken and unconsoled, + have punished me for many years past more heavily than you think. Do you + desire to see me visited by more poignant sufferings than these? If it be + so, you may enjoy the vindictive triumph of having already inflicted them. + Your threats will force me, in a few hours, from the friends I have lived + with, at the very time when the affection shown to me, and the honor + conferred on me by those friends, have made their society most precious to + my heart. You force me from this, and from more—for you force me + from my home, at the moment when my son has affectionately entreated me to + take him back to my fireside. + </p> + <p> + “These trials, heavy as they are, I am ready to endure, if, by accepting + them humbly, I may be deemed to have made some atonement for my sin. But + more I have not the fortitude to meet. I cannot face the exposure with + which you are resolved to overwhelm me. The anxiety—perhaps, I ought + to say, the weakness—of my life, has been to win and keep the + respect of others. You are about, by disclosing the crime which dishonored + my youth, to deprive me of my good fame. I can let it go without a + struggle, as part of the punishment that I have deserved; but I have not + the courage to wait and see you take it from me. My own sensations tell me + that I have not long to live; my own convictions assure me that I cannot + fitly prepare myself for death, until I am far removed from worldly + interests and worldly terrors—in a word, from the horror of an + exposure, which I have deserved, but which, at the end of my weary life, + is more than I can endure. We have seen the last of each other in this + world. To-night I shall be beyond the reach of your retaliation; for + to-night I shall be journeying to the retreat in which the short remainder + of my life will be hidden from you and from all men. + </p> + <p> + “It now only remains for me to advert to the two enclosures contained in + this letter. + </p> + <p> + “The first is addressed to Mr. Blyth. I leave it to reach his hands + through you; because I am ashamed to communicate with him directly, as + from myself. If what you said about my child be the truth—and I + cannot dispute it—then, in my ignorance of her identity, in my + estrangement from the house of her protector since she first entered it, I + have unconsciously committed such an offense against Mr. Blyth as no + contrition can ever adequately atone for. Now indeed I feel how + presumptuously merciless my bitter conviction of the turpitude of my own + sin, has made me towards what I deemed like sins in others. Now also I + know, that, unless you have spoken falsely, I have been guilty of casting + the shame of my own deserted child in the teeth of the very man who had + nobly and tenderly given her an asylum in his own home. The unutterable + anguish which only the bare suspicion of this has inflicted on me might + well have been my death. I marvel even now at my own recovery from it. + </p> + <p> + “You are free to look at the letter to Mr. Blyth which I now entrust to + you. Besides the expression of my shame, my sorrow, and my sincere + repentance, it contains some questions, to which Mr. Blyth, in his + Christian kindness, will, I doubt not, readily write answers. The + questions only refer to the matter of the child’s identity; and the + address I have written down at the end, is that of the house of business + of my lawyer and agent in London. He will forward the document to me, and + will then arrange with Mr. Blyth the manner in which a fit provision from + my property may be best secured to his adopted child. He has deserved her + love, and to him I gratefully and humbly leave her. For myself, I am not + worthy even to look upon her face. + </p> + <p> + “The second enclosure is meant for my son; and is to be delivered in the + event of your having already disclosed to him the secret of his father’s + guilt. But, if you have not done this—if any mercy towards me has + entered into your heart, and pleads with it for pardon and for silence—then + destroy the letter, and tell him that he will find a communication waiting + for him at the house of my agent. He wrote to ask my pardon—he has + it freely. Freely, in my turn, I hope to have his forgiveness for + severities exercised towards him, which were honestly meant to preserve + him betimes from ever falling as his father fell, but which I now fear + were persevered in too hardly and too long. I have suffered for this + error, as for others, heavily—more heavily, when he abandoned his + home, than I should ever wish him to know. You said he lived with you and + that you were fond of him. Be gentle with him, now that he is ill, for his + mother’s sake. + </p> + <p> + “My hand grows weaker and weaker: I can write no more. Let me close this + letter by entreating your pardon. If you ever grant it me, then I also ask + your prayers.” + </p> + <p> + With this the letter ended. + </p> + <p> + Matthew sat holding it open in his hand for a little while. He looked + round once or twice at the enclosed letter from Mr. Thorpe to his son, + which lay close by on the table—but did not destroy it; did not so + much as touch it even. + </p> + <p> + Zack spoke to him before long from the inner room. + </p> + <p> + “I’m sure you must have done reading your letter by this time, Mat. I’ve + been thinking, old fellow, of the talk we used to have, about going back + to America together, and trying a little buffalo hunting and roaming about + in the wilds. If my father takes me into favor again, and can be got to + say Yes, I should so like to go with you, Mat. Not for too long, you know, + because of my mother, and my friends over here. But a sea voyage, and a + little scouring about in what you call the lonesome places, would do me + such good! I don’t feel as if I should ever settle properly to anything, + till I’ve had my fling. I wonder whether my father would let me go?” + </p> + <p> + “I know he would, Zack.” + </p> + <p> + “You! How?” + </p> + <p> + “I’ll tell you how another time. You shall have your run, Zack,—you + shall have your heart’s content along with me.” As he said this, he looked + again at Mr. Thorpe’s letter to his son, and took it up in his hand this + time. + </p> + <p> + “Oh! how I wish I was strong enough to start! Come in here, Mat, and let’s + talk about it.” + </p> + <p> + “Wait a bit, and I will.” Pronouncing those words, he rose from his chair. + “For your sake, Zack,” he said, and dropped the letter into the fire. + </p> + <p> + “What can you be about all this time?” asked young Thorpe. + </p> + <p> + “Do you call to mind,” said Mat, going into the bedroom, and sitting down + by the lad’s pillow—“Do you call to mind me saying, that I’d be + brothers with you, when first us two come together? Well, Zack, I’ve only + been trying to be as good as my word.” + </p> + <p> + “Trying? What do you mean? I don’t understand, old fellow.” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind: you’ll make it out better some day. Let’s talk about getting + aboard ship, and going a buffalo-hunting now.” + </p> + <p> + They discussed the projected expedition, until Zack grew sleepy. As he + fell off into a pleasant doze, Mat went back into the front-room; and, + taking from the table Mr. Thorpe’s letter to Mr. Blyth, left Kirk Street + immediately for the painter’s house. + </p> + <p> + It had occurred to Valentine to unlock his bureau twice since his return + from the country, but on neither occasion had he found it necessary to + open that long narrow drawer at the back, in which he had secreted the + Hair Bracelet years ago. He was consequently still totally ignorant that + it had been taken away from him, when Matthew Grice entered the + painting-room, and quietly put it into his hand. + </p> + <p> + Consternation and amazement so thoroughly overpowered him, that he + suffered his visitor to lock the door against all intruders, and then to + lead him peremptorily to a chair, without uttering a single word of + inquiry or expostulation. All though the narrative, on which Mat now + entered, he sat totally speechless, until Mr. Thorpe’s letter was placed + in his hands, and he was informed that Madonna was still to be left + entirely under his own care. Then, for the first time, his cheeks showed + symptoms of returning to their natural color, and he exclaimed fervently, + “Thank God! I shan’t lose her after all! I only wish you had begun by + telling me of that, the moment you came into the room!” + </p> + <p> + Saying this, he began to read Mr. Thorpe’s letter. When he had finished + it, and looked up at Mat, the tears were in his eyes. + </p> + <p> + “I can’t help it,” said the simple-hearted painter. “It would even affect + <i>you,</i> Mr. Grice, to be addressed in such terms of humiliation as + these. How can he doubt my forgiving him, when he has a right to my + everlasting gratitude for not asking me to part with our darling child? + They never met—he has never, never, seen her face,” continued + Valentine, in lower and fainter tones. “She always wore her veil down, by + my wish, when we went out; and our walks were generally into the country, + instead of town way. I only once remember seeing him coming towards us; + and then I crossed the road with her, knowing we were not on terms. + There’s something shocking in father and daughter living so near each + other, yet being—if one may say so—so far, so very far apart. + It is dreadful to think of that. It is far more dreadful to think of its + having been <i>her</i> hand which held up the hair for you to look at, and + <i>her</i> little innocent action which led to the discovery of who her + father really was!” + </p> + <p> + “Do you ever mean to let her know as much about it as we do?” asked + Matthew. + </p> + <p> + The look of dismay began to appear again in Valentine’s face. “Have you + told Zack, yet?” he inquired, nervously and eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Mat; “and don’t <i>you!</i> When Zack’s on his legs again, he’s + going to take a voyage, and get a season’s hunting along with me in the + wild country over the water. I’m as fond of the lad as if he was a bit of + my own flesh and blood. I cottoned to him when he hit out so hearty for me + at the singing-shop—and we’ve been brothers together ever since. You + mightn’t think it, to look at me; but I’ve spared Zack’s father for Zack’s + sake; and I don’t ask no more reward for it than to take the lad a hunting + for a season or two along with me. When he comes back home again, and we + say Good-bye, I’ll tell him all what’s happened; but I won’t risk bringing + so much as a cross look into his eyes now, by dropping a word to him of + what’s passed betwixt his father and me.” + </p> + <p> + Although this speech excited no little surprise and interest in + Valentine’s mind, it did not succeed in suspending the anxieties which had + been awakened in him by Matthew’s preceding question, and which he now + began to feel the necessity of confiding to Mrs. Blyth—his grand + counselor in all difficulties, and unfailing comforter in all troubles. + </p> + <p> + “Do you mind waiting here,” he said, “while I go upstairs, and break the + news to my wife? Without her advice I don’t know what to do about + communicating our discovery to the poor dear child. Do you mind waiting?” + </p> + <p> + No: Matthew would willingly wait. Hearing this, Mr. Blyth left the room + directly. + </p> + <p> + He remained away a long time. When he came back, his face did not seem to + have gained in composure during his absence. + </p> + <p> + “My wife has told me of another discovery,” he said, “which her motherly + love for our adopted daughter enabled her to make some time since. I have + been sadly surprised and distressed at hearing of it. But I need say no + more on the subject to you, than that Mrs. Blyth has at once decided me to + confide nothing to Madonna—to Mary, I ought to say—until Zack + has got well again and has left England. When I heard just now, from you, + of his projected voyage, I must confess I saw many objections to it. They + have all been removed by what my wife has told me. I heartily agree with + her that the best thing Zack can do is to make the trip he proposes. You + are willing to take care of him; and I honestly believe that we may safely + trust him with you.” + </p> + <p> + A serious difficulty being thus disposed of, Valentine found leisure to + pay some attention to minor things. Among other questions which he now + asked, was one relating to the Hair Bracelet, and to the manner in which + Matthew had become possessed of it. He was answered by the frankest + confession, a confession which tried even <i>his</i> kindly and forbearing + disposition to the utmost, as he listened to it; and which drew from him, + when it was ended, some of the strongest terms of reproach that had ever + passed his lips. + </p> + <p> + Mat listened till he had done; then, taking his hat to go, muttered a few + words of rough apology, which Valentine’s good-nature induced him to + accept, almost as soon as they were spoken. “We must let bygones be + bygones,” said the painter. “You have been candid with me, at last, at + any-rate; and, in recognition of that candor, I say ‘Good-night, Mr. + Grice,’ as a friend of yours still.” + </p> + <p> + When Mat returned to Kirk Street, the landlady came out of her little + parlor to tell him of a visitor who had been to the lodgings in his + absence. An elderly lady, looking very pale and ill, had asked to see + young Mr. Thorpe, and had prefaced the request by saying that she was his + mother. Zack was then asleep, but the lady had been taken up stairs to see + him in bed—had stooped over him, and kissed him—and had then + gone away again, hastily, and in tears. Matthew’s face grew grave as he + listened, but he said nothing when the landlady had done, except a word or + two charging her not to mention to Zack what had happened when he woke. It + was plain that Mrs. Thorpe had been told her husband’s secret, and that + she had lovingly devoted herself to him, as comforter and companion to the + last. + </p> + <p> + When the doctor paid his regular visit to the invalid, the next morning, + he was called on immediately for an answer to the important question of + when Zack would be fit to travel. After due consideration and careful + inspection of the injured side of the patient’s head, he replied that in a + month’s time the lad might safely go on board ship; and that the + sea-voyage proposed would do more towards restoring him to perfect health + and strength, than all the tonic medicines that all the doctors in England + could prescribe. + </p> + <p> + Matthew might have found the month’s inaction to which he was now obliged + to submit for Zack’s sake, rather tedious, but for the opportune arrival + in Kirk Street of a professional visitor from Dibbledean. + </p> + <p> + Though his client had ungratefully and entirely forgotten him, Mr. Tatt + had not by any means forgotten his client, but had, on the contrary, + attended to his interests with unremitting resolution and assiduity. He + had discovered that Mat was entitled, under his father’s will, to no less + a sum than two thousand pounds, if his identity could be properly + established. To effect this result was now, therefore, the grand object of + Mr. Tatt’s ambition. He had the prospect, not only of making a little + money, but of establishing a reputation in Dibbledean, if he succeeded—and, + by dint of perseverance, he ultimately did succeed. He carried Mat about + to all sorts of places, insisted on his signing all sorts of papers and + making all sorts of declarations, and ended by accumulating such a mass of + evidence before the month was out, that Mr. Nawby, as executor to “the + late Joshua Grice,” declared himself convinced of the claimant’s identity. + </p> + <p> + On being informed of this result, Mat ordered the lawyer, after first + deducting the amount of his bill from the forthcoming legacy, to draw him + out such a legal form as might enable him to settle his property forthwith + on another person. When Mr. Tatt asked to be furnished with the name of + this person, he was told to write “Martha Peckover.” + </p> + <p> + “Mary’s child has got you to look after her, and money enough from her + father to keep her,” said Mat, as he put the signed instrument into + Valentine’s hands. “When Martha Peckover’s old and past her work, she may + want a bank-note or two to fall back on. Give her this, when I’m gone—and + say she earned it from Mary’s brother, the day she stopped and suckled + Mary’s child by the road-side.” + </p> + <p> + The day of departure drew near. Zack rallied so rapidly, that he was able, + a week before it arrived, to go himself and fetch the letter from his + father which was waiting for him at the Agent’s office. It assured him, + briefly, but very kindly, of the forgiveness which he had written to ask—referred + him to the man of business for particulars of the allowance granted to + him, while he pursued his studies in the Art, or otherwise occupied + himself—urged him always to look on Mr. Blyth as the best friend and + counselor that he could ever have—and ended by engaging him to write + often about himself and his employments, to his mother; sending his + letters to be forwarded through the Agent. When Zack, hearing from this + gentleman that his father had left the house in Baregrove Square, desired + to know what had occasioned the change of residence, he was only informed + that the state of Mr. Thorpe’s health had obliged him to seek perfect + retirement and repose: and that there were reasons at present for not + mentioning the place of his retreat to any one, which it was not deemed + expedient for his son to become acquainted with. + </p> + <p> + The day of departure arrived. + </p> + <p> + In the morning, by Valentine’s advice, Zack wrote to his mother; only + telling her, in reference to his proposed trip, that he was about to + travel to improve and amuse himself, in the company of a friend, of whom + Mr. Blyth approved. While he was thus engaged, the painter had a private + interview with Matthew Grice, and very earnestly charged him to remember + his responsibilities towards his young companion. Mat answered briefly and + characteristically: “I told you I was as fond of him as if he was a bit of + my own flesh and blood. If you don’t believe I shall take care of him, + after that—I can’t say nothing to make you.” + </p> + <p> + Both the travelers were taken up into Mrs. Blyth’s room to say Farewell. + It was a sad parting. Zack’s spirits had not been so good as usual, since + the day of his visit to the Agent’s—and the other persons assembled + were all more or less affected in an unusual degree by the approaching + separation. Madonna had looked ill and anxious—though she would not + own to having anything the matter with her—for some days past. But + now, when she saw the parting looks exchanged around her, the poor girl’s + agitation got beyond her control, and became so painfully evident, that + Zack wisely and considerately hurried over the farewell scene. He went out + first. Matthew followed him to the landing—then stopped—and + suddenly retraced his steps. + </p> + <p> + He entered the room again, and took his sister’s child by the hand once + more; bent over her as she stood pale and in tears before him, and kissed + her on the cheek. “Tell her some day that me and her mother was playmates + together,” he said to Mrs. Blyth, as he turned away to join Zack on the + stairs. + </p> + <p> + Valentine accompanied them to the ship. When they shook hands together, he + said to Matthew; “Zack has engaged to come back in a year’s time. Shall we + see <i>you</i> again with him?” + </p> + <p> + Mat took the painter aside, without directly answering him. + </p> + <p> + “If ever you go to Bangbury,” he whispered, “look into the churchyard, in + the dark corner amongst the trees. There’s a bit of walnut-wood planking + put up now at the place where she’s buried; and it would be a comfort to + me to know that it was kep’ clean and neat. I should take it kind of you + if you’d give it a brush or two with your hand when you’re near it—for + I never hope to see the place myself; no more.” + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + Sadly and thoughtfully, Valentine returned alone to his own house. He went + up at once to his wife’s room. + </p> + <p> + As he opened the door, he started, and stopped on the threshold. Madonna + was sitting on the couch by her adopted mother, with her face hidden on + Mrs. Blyth’s bosom, and her arms clasped tight round Mrs. Blyth’s neck. + </p> + <p> + “Have you ventured to tell her all, Lavvie?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Blyth was not able to speak in answer—she looked at him with + tearful eyes, and bowed her head. + </p> + <p> + Valentine lingered at the door for a moment-then softly closed it, and + left them together. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0034" id="link2H_4_0034"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + CLOSING CHAPTER. A YEAR AND A HALF AFTERWARDS. + </h2> + <p> + It is sunset after a fine day in August, and Mr. Blyth is enjoying the + evening breeze in the invalid room. + </p> + <p> + Besides the painter and his wife, and Madonna, two visitors are present, + who occupy both the spare beds in the house. One is Mrs. Thorpe, the other + Mrs. Peckover; and they have been asked to become Valentine’s guests, to + assist at the joyful ceremony of welcoming Zack to England on his return + from the wilds of America. He has outstayed his year’s leave of absence by + nearly six months; and his appearance at Mr. Blyth’s has become an event + of daily, or more properly, of hourly expectation. + </p> + <p> + There is a sad and significant change in Mrs. Thorpe’s dress. She wears + the widow’s cap and weeds. It is nearly seven months since her husband + died, in the remote Welsh village to which he retired on leaving London. + With him, as with many other confirmed invalids, Nature drooped to her + final decay gradually and wearily; but his death was painless, and his + mental powers remained unimpaired to the end. One of the last names that + lingered lovingly on his lips—after he had bade his wife farewell—was + the name of his absent son. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Thorpe sits close to Mrs. Blyth, and talks to her in low, gentle + tones. The kind black eyes of the painter’s wife are brighter than they + have been for many a long year past, and the clear tones of her voice—cheerful + always—have a joyous sound in them now. Ever since the first days of + the Spring season, she has been gaining so greatly in health and strength, + that the “favorable turn” has taken place in her malady, which was spoken + of as “possible” by the doctors long ago, at the time of her first + sufferings. She has several times, for the last fortnight, been moved from + her couch for a few hours to a comfortable seat near the window; and if + the fine weather still continues, she is to be taken out, in a day or two, + for an airing in an invalid chair. + </p> + <p> + The prospect of this happy event, and the pleasant expectation of Zack’s + return, have made Valentine more gaily talkative and more nimbly restless + than ever. As he skips discursively about the room at this moment, talking + of all sorts of subjects, and managing to mix Art up with every one of + them; dressed in the old jaunty frock-coat with the short tails, he looks, + if possible, younger, plumper, rosier, and brisker than when he was first + introduced to the reader. It is wonderful when people are really youthful + at heart, to see how easily the Girdle of Venus fits them, and how long + they contrive to keep it on, without ever wearing it out. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Peckover, arrived in festively-flaring cap-ribbons, sits close to the + window to get all the air she can, and tries to make more of it by fanning + herself with the invariable red cotton pocket-handkerchief to which she + has been all her life attached. In bodily circumference she has not lost + an inch of rotundity; suffers, in consequence, considerably, from the + heat; and talks to Mr. Blyth with parenthetical pantings, which reflect + little credit on the cooling influence of the breeze, or the ventilating + properties of the pocket-handkerchief fan. + </p> + <p> + Madonna sits opposite to her at the window—as cool and pretty a + contrast as can be imagined, in her white muslin dress, and light + rose-coloured ribbons. She is looking at Mrs. Peckover, and smiling every + now and then at the comically languishing faces made by that excellent + woman, to express to “little Mary” the extremity of her sufferings from + the heat. The whole length of the window-sill is occupied by an AEolian + harp—one of the many presents which Valentine’s portrait painting + expeditions have enabled him to offer to his wife. Madonna’s hand is + resting lightly on the box of the harp; for by touching it in this way, + she becomes sensible to the influence of its louder and higher notes when + the rising breeze draws them out. This is the only pleasure she can derive + from music; and it is always, during the summer and autumn evenings, one + of the amusements that she enjoys in Mrs. Blyth’s room. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Thorpe, in the course of her conversation with Mrs. Blyth, has been + reminded of a letter to one of her sisters, which she has not yet + completed, and goes to her own room to finish it—Valentine running + to open the door for her, with the nimblest juvenile gallantry, then + returning to the window and addressing Mrs. Peckover. + </p> + <p> + “Hot as ever, eh? Shall I get you one of Lavvie’s fans?” says Mr. Blyth. + </p> + <p> + “No, thank’ee, sir; I ain’t quite melted yet,” answers Mrs. Peckover. “But + I’ll tell you what I wish you would do for me. I wish you would read me + Master Zack’s last letter. You promised, you know, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “And I would have performed my promise before, Mrs. Peckover, if Mrs. + Thorpe had not been in the room. There are passages in the letter, which + it might revive very painful remembrances in her to hear. Now she has left + us, I have not the least objection to read, if you are ready to listen.” + </p> + <p> + Saying this, Valentine takes a letter from his pocket. Madonna recognizing + it, asks by a sign if she may look over his shoulder and read it for the + second time. The request is granted immediately. Mr. Blyth makes her sit + on his knee, puts his arm round her waist, and begins to read aloud as + follows: + </p> + <p> + “MY DEAR VALENTINE,—Although I am writing to you to announce my + return, I cannot say that I take up my pen in good spirits. It is not so + long since I picked up my last letters from England that told me of my + father’s death. But besides that, I have had a heavy trial to bear, in + hearing the dreadful secret, which you all kept from me when it was + discovered; and afterwards in parting from Matthew Grice. + </p> + <p> + “What I felt when I knew the secret, and heard why Mat and all of you had + kept it from me, I may be able to tell you—but I cannot and dare not + write about it. You may be interested to hear how my parting with Matthew + happened; and I will relate it to you, as well as I can. + </p> + <p> + “You know, from my other letters, all the glorious hunting and riding we + have had, and the thousands of miles of country we have been over, and the + wonderful places we have seen. Well, Bahia (the place I now write from) + has been the end of our travels. It was here I told Mat of my father’s + death; and he directly agreed with me that it was my duty to go home, and + comfort my poor dear mother, by the first ship that sailed for England. + After we had settled that, he said he had something serious to tell me, + and asked me to go with him, northward, half a day’s march along the + seacoast; saying we could talk together quietly as we went along. I saw + that he had got his rifle over his shoulder, and his baggage at his back; + and thought it odd—but he stopped me from asking any questions, by + telling me from beginning to end, all that you and he knew about my + father, before we left England. I was at first so shocked and amazed by + what I heard, and then had so much to say to him about it, that our half + day’s march, by the time we had got to the end of it, seemed to me to have + hardly lasted as long as an hour. + </p> + <p> + “He stopped, though, at the place he had fixed on; and held out his hand + to me, and said these words: ‘I’ve done my duty by you, Zack, as brother + should by brother. The time’s come at last for us two to say Good-bye. + You’re going back over the sea to your friends, and I’m going inland by + myself on the tramp.’ I had heard him talk of our parting in this way + before, but had never thought it would really take place; and I tried + hard, as you may imagine, to make him change his mind, and sail for + England with me. But it was useless. + </p> + <p> + “‘No, Zack,’ he said, ‘I doubt if I’m fit for the life you’re going back + to lead. I’ve given it a trial, and a hard and bitter one it’s been to me. + I began life on the tramp; and on the tramp I shall end it. Good-bye, + Zack. I shall think of you, when I light my fire and cook my bit of + victuals without you, in the lonesome places to-night.’ + </p> + <p> + “I tried to control myself, Valentine; but my eyes got dim, and I caught + fast hold of him by the arm. ‘Mat,’ I said, ‘I can’t part with you in this + dreary, hopeless way. Don’t shut the future up from both of us for ever. + We have been eighteen months together, let another year and-a-half pass if + you like; and then give yourself; and give me, another chance. Say you’ll + meet me, when that time is past, in New York; or say at least, you’ll let + me hear where you are?’ His face worked and quivered, and he only shook + his head. ‘Come, Mat,’ I said, as cheerfully as I could, ‘if I am ready to + cross the sea again, for your sake, you can’t refuse to do what I ask you, + for mine?’ ‘Will it make the parting easier to you, my lad?’ he asked + kindly. ‘Yes, indeed it will,’ I answered. ‘Well, then, Zack,’ he said, + ‘you shall have your way. Don’t let’s say no more, now. Come, let’s cut it + as short as we can, or we shan’t part as men should. God bless you, lad, + and all of them you’re going back to see.’ Those were his last words. + </p> + <p> + “After he had walked a few yards inland, he turned round and waved his + hand—then went on, and never turned again. I sat down on the + sand-hillock where we had said Good-bye, and burst out crying. What with + the dreadful secret he had been telling me as we came along, and then the + parting when I didn’t expect it, all I had of the man about me gave way + somehow in a moment. And I sat alone, crying and sobbing on the + sand-hillock, with the surf roaring miles out at sea behind me, and the + great plain before, with Matthew walking over it alone on his way to the + mountains beyond. + </p> + <p> + “When I had had time to get ashamed of myself for crying, and had got my + eyesight clear again, he was already far away from me. I ran to the top of + the highest hillock, and watched him over the plain—a desert, + without a shrub to break the miles and miles of flat ground spreading away + to the mountains. I watched him, as he got smaller and smaller—I + watched till he got a mere black speck—till I was doubtful whether I + still saw him or not—till I was certain at last, that the great + vacancy of the plain had swallowed him up from sight. + </p> + <p> + “My heart was very heavy, Valentine, as I went back to the town by myself. + It is sometimes heavy still; for though I think much of my mother, and of + my sister—whom you have been so kind a father to, and whose + affection it is such a new happiness to me to have the prospect of soon + returning—I think occasionally of dear old Mat, too, and have my + melancholy moments when I remember that he and I are not going back + together. + </p> + <p> + “I hope you will think me improved by my long trip—I mean in + behavior, as well as health. I have seen much, and learnt much, and + thought much—and I hope I have really profited and altered for the + better during my absence. It is such a pleasure to think I am really going + home—” + </p> + <p> + Here Mr. Blyth stops abruptly and closes the letter, for Mrs. Thorpe + re-enters the room. “The rest is only about when he expects to be back,” + whispers Valentine to Mrs. Peckover. “By my calculations,” he continues, + raising his voice and turning towards Mrs. Thorpe; “by my calculations + (which, not having a mathematical head, I don’t boast of, mind, as being + infallibly correct), Zack is likely, I should say, to be here in about—” + </p> + <p> + “Hush! hush! hush!” cries Mrs. Peckover, jumping up with incredible + agility at the window, and clapping her hands in a violent state of + excitement. “Don’t talk about when he will be here—<i>here he is!</i> + He’s come in a cab—he’s got out into the garden—he sees me. + Welcome back, Master Zack, welcome back! Hooray! hooray!” Here Mrs. + Peckover forgets her company-manners, and waves the red cotton + handkerchief out of the window in an irrepressible burst of triumph. + </p> + <p> + Zack’s hearty laugh is heard outside—then his quick step on the + stairs—then the door opens, and he comes in with his beaming + sunburnt face healthier and heartier than ever. His first embrace is for + his mother, his second for Madonna; and, after he has greeted every one + else cordially, he goes back to those two, and Mr. Blyth is glad to see + that he sits down between them and takes their hands gently and + affectionately in his. + </p> + <p> + Matthew Grice is in all their memories, when the first greetings are over. + Valentine and Madonna look at each other—and the girl’s fingers sign + hesitatingly the letters of Matthew’s name. + </p> + <p> + “She is thinking of the comrade you have lost,” says the painter, + addressing himself, a little sadly, to Zack. + </p> + <p> + “The only living soul that’s kin to her now by her mother’s side,” adds + Mrs. Peckover. “It’s like her pretty ways to be thinking of him kindly, + for her mother’s sake.” + </p> + <p> + “Are you really determined, Zack, to take that second voyage?” asks + Valentine. “Are you determined to go back to America, on the one faint + chance of seeing Mat once more?” + </p> + <p> + “If I am a living man, eighteen months hence,” Zack answers resolutely, + “nothing shall prevent my taking the voyage. Matthew Grice loved me like a + brother. And, like a brother, I will yet bring him back—if he lives + to keep his promise and meet me, when the time comes.” + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + The time came; and on either side, the two comrades of former days—in + years so far apart, in sympathies so close together—lived to look + each other in the face again. The solitude which had once hardened Matthew + Grice, had wrought on him, in his riper age, to better and higher ends. In + all his later roamings, the tie which had bound him to those sacred human + interests in which we live and move and have our being—the tie which + he himself believed that he had broken—held fast to him still. His + grim, scarred face softened, his heavy hand trembled in the friendly grasp + that held it, as Zack pleaded with him once more; and, this time, pleaded + not in vain. + </p> + <p> + “I’ve never been my own man again” said Mat, “since you and me wished each + other good-bye on the sandhills. The lonesome places have got strange to + me—and my rifle’s heavier in hand than ever I knew it before. + There’s some part of myself that seems left behind like, between Mary’s + grave and Mary’s child. Must I cross the seas again to find it? Give us + hold of your hand, Zack—and take the leavings of me back, along with + you.” + </p> + <p> + So the noble nature of the man unconsciously asserted itself in his simple + words. So the two returned to the old land together. The first kiss with + which his dead sister’s child welcomed him back, cooled the Tramp’s Fever + for ever; and the Man of many Wanderings rested at last among the friends + who loved him, to wander no more. + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h3> + NOTE TO CHAPTER VII. + </h3> + <p> + I DO not know that any attempt has yet been made in English fiction to + draw the character of a “Deaf Mute,” simply and exactly after nature—or, + in other words, to exhibit the peculiar effects produced by the loss of + the senses of hearing and speaking on the disposition of the person so + afflicted. The famous Fenella, in Scott’s “Peveril of the Peak,” only + assumes deafness and dumbness; and the whole family of dumb people on the + stage have the remarkable faculty—so far as my experience goes—of + always being able to hear what is said to them. When the idea first + occurred to me of representing the character of a “Deaf Mute” as literally + as possible according to nature, I found the difficulty of getting at + tangible and reliable materials to work from, much greater than I had + anticipated; so much greater, indeed, that I believe my design must have + been abandoned, if a lucky chance had not thrown in my way Dr. Kitto’s + delightful little book, “The Lost Senses.” In the first division of that + work, which contains the author’s interesting and touching narrative of + his own sensations under the total loss of the sense of hearing, and its + consequent effect on the faculties of speech, will be found my authority + for most of those traits in Madonna’s character which are especially and + immediately connected with the deprivation from which she is represented + as suffering. The moral purpose to be answered by the introduction of such + a personage as this, and of the kindred character of the Painter’s Wife, + lies, I would fain hope, so plainly on the surface, that it can be hardly + necessary for me to indicate it even to the most careless reader. I know + of nothing which more firmly supports our faith in the better parts of + human nature, than to see—as we all may—with what patience and + cheerfulness the heavier bodily afflictions of humanity are borne, for the + most part, by those afflicted; and also to note what elements of kindness + and gentleness the spectacle of these afflictions constantly develops in + the persons of the little circle by which the sufferer is surrounded. Here + is the ever bright side, the ever noble and consoling aspect of all human + calamity and the object of presenting this to the view of others, as truly + and as tenderly as in him lies, seems to me to be a fit object for any + writer who desires to address himself to the best sympathies of his + readers. + </p> + <p> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Hide and Seek, by Wilkie Collins + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HIDE AND SEEK *** + +***** This file should be named 7893-h.htm or 7893-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/7/8/9/7893/ + +Produced by James Rusk, and David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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