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diff --git a/7893-0.txt b/7893-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..986dca9 --- /dev/null +++ b/7893-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,16229 @@ +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: April, 2005 [EBook #7893] +Posting Date: July 31, 2009 +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 + + + + + +HIDE AND SEEK + +By Wilkie Collins + + + + + + +TO + +CHARLES DICKENS, + +THIS STORY IS INSCRIBED, + +AS A + +TOKEN OF ADMIRATION AND AFFECTION, + +BY HIS FRIEND, + +THE AUTHOR. + + + + +PREFACE TO THE REVISED EDITION + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +HARLEY STREET, LONDON, SEPTEMBER, 1861. + + + + +OPENING CHAPTER. A CHILD’S SUNDAY. + +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. + +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 _clop clop_ 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. + +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. + +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. + +“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!” + +“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. + +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. + +“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.” + +“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!” + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +“Where is Zack?” asked Mrs. Thorpe, glancing quickly and nervously all +round her. + +“He is locked up in my dressing-room,” answered her husband without +taking his eyes off the book. + +“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?” + +“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”-- + +“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. + +“If you had allowed me to proceed, sir,” said Mr. Thorpe, who always +called his father-in-law _Sir,_ “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 _you_ can do towards overcoming the obstinacy +of this unhappy child.” + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +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.” + +“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.” + +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--” + +“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!--_precocious_--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--” + +“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?” + +“Nothing of the sort,” retorted the old gentleman; “I’m not praising +Zack’s conduct, but I _am_ blaming yours. Here it is in plain +words:--_You_ keep on cramming church down his throat; and _he_ 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?” + +“Latitudinarianism,” said Mr. Thorpe, looking and speaking straight at +the portrait of the Reverend Aaron Yollop. + +“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?” + +“Rationalism,” said Mr. Thorpe, still looking steadily at the +lithographed portrait of the Reverend Aaron Yollop. + +“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 _ism,_ 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 _am_ 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 _must_ 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!” + +“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--” + +“Stop, sir!” said Mr. Goodworth, seriously and sternly. + +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. + +“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 _you_ to rebuke _me_ 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 _you_ no harm: to infer a scoffing motive can +do _him_ 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.” + +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. + +***** + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“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 _would_ your papa say if he +heard of this? You wicked, wicked, wicked child, I’m ashamed to look at +you!” + +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. + +“Have you learnt your lesson, you wicked boy?” she asked. + +“No, I havn’t,” answered Zack, resolutely. + +“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. + +“I won’t!” rejoined Zack, emphasizing the refusal by laying tight hold +of the wet sides of the bath with both hands. + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +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:-- + +“I want you to learn your lesson, because you will please _me_ by +obeying your papa. I have always been kind to _you,_--now I want you to +be kind to _me.”_ + +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 _you_ happy, and I am sure you are ready, by this time, to try +and make _me_ happy--are you not, Zack?” + +“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.” + +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? + +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. + +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.” + +“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. + +“Certainly not on a Sunday,” interposed Mr. Thorpe; “your grandpapa’s +book is not a book for Sundays.” + +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. + +“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. + +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.” + +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!” + +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. + +“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.” + +Zack paused, debating for an instant whether he should disobey or burst +out crying. + +“Put back the stick,” repeated Mr. Thorpe. + +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. + +“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.” + +Mr. Thorpe raised his head disapprovingly from his book, but said +nothing this time. + +“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. + +“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?” + +“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.” + +“I want to go to bed, and get to to-morrow, and have my picture-book,” + was the weary and whimpering answer. + +“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!” + +“Grandpapa,” continued the child, more wearily than before, “I want to +whisper something in your ear.” + +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-- + +_“I say, granpapa, I hate Sunday!”_ + + + + +BOOK I. THE HIDING. + + + +CHAPTER I. A NEW NEIGHBORHOOD, AND A STRANGE CHARACTER. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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?” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +“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!” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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 _their_ generation never to ask themselves such embarrassing +questions as these. + + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER II. MR. BLYTH IN HIS STUDIO. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Such was the interior condition of the painting-room, after the owner +had inhabited it for a period of little more than two months! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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:-- + + +“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 _national sins_ 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.” + + +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: + + +“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.” + + +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. + +Zack’s third letter of complaint certainly promised serious domestic +tribulation for the ruling power at Baregrove Square:-- + + +“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: _she’ll_ +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.” + + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +After standing before his picture in affectionate contemplation of its +beauties for a minute or so, Valentine resumes the business of preparing +his palette. + +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. + +This mysterious resident under Mr. Blyth’s roof is a Young Lady. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 _my_ +time mad--mad, I give you my word of honor! Not a gentleman, sir, in my +youthful days--and they _were_ 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.” + +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”, + + “Which breathed of rapture and the balmy South.” + +He expatiated on + + “Her sweet lips smiling at her dimpled chin, + Whose wealth of kisses gods might long to win--” + +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. + +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 +_and_ 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? + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +Is this one of the Mysteries of the painter’s fireside? + +Who is Madonna? + +What is her real name besides Mary? + +Is it Mary Blyth? + +***** + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER III. MADONNA’S CHILDHOOD. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +In this place the red letters appeared again, and formed the following +words and marks of admiration:-- + + THE MYSTERIOUS FOUNDLING! + AGED TEN YEARS!! + TOTALLY DEAF AND DUMB!!! + +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:-- + +“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. + +“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. + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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!” + +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!” + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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 _her?_ 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! + +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. + +She stopped exactly opposite to Valentine; and when she looked up, she +looked on him alone. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“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. + +“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.” + +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!” + +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. + +“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.” + +Instead of answering the question, Valentine instantly began to +rhapsodize about the child’s face. + +“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--” + +“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!” + +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. + +“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. + +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. + +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. + +“What a very odd man he is!” said Mrs. Joyce, taking up a dropped stitch +in the fancy jacket. + +“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.” + +“Do you think he’ll do anything imprudent about the child? Poor thing! +I’m sure I pity her as heartily as anybody can.” + +“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.” + +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?” + +“Certainly,” said the good-humored rector, laughing. “The child by all +means, and the excellent woman too.” + +“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!” + +“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.” + +“Mr. Blyth!!!” exclaimed Mrs. Joyce, indignant at this professional +criticism on Jezebel’s legs. + +“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. + +“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.” + +“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?” + +“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. + +“Cracked! cracked!” cried the doctor. “Dear old Valentine!” + +“I’m afraid his principles are very loose,” said Mrs. Joyce, whose +thoughts still ran on the unlucky professional allusion to Jezebel’s +legs. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +As she was led across the ring, the child looked intently at Valentine. + +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. + +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. + +“This may be my fault,” thought Valentine. _“This!_ 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. + +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. + +“You can’t come in here,” said a shabby lad, suddenly appearing from the +inside in his shirt sleeves. + +Mr. Blyth took out half-a-crown. “I want to see the deaf and dumb child +directly!” + +“Oh, all right! go in,” muttered the lad, pocketing the money greedily. + +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. + +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. + +“Oh, my God!” cried Valentine, horror-struck at what he heard, “stop +her! don’t let her moan in that way!” + +The woman started from her seat, and put the child down, then recognized +Mr. Blyth and rushed up to him. + +“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!” + +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. + +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. + +“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!” + +The woman stopped him by pointing suddenly to the child. + +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.” + +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. + +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!” + +Valentine rose, still holding the child in his arms. “I’ll go if you +promise me--” + +“I’ll promise you anything, sir!” + +“You know the rectory! Doctor Joyce’s--the clergyman--my kind friend--” + +“Yes, sir; I know it. Do please, for little Mary’s sake be quick as you +can!” + +“Mary! Her name’s Mary!” Valentine drew back into a corner, and began +kissing the child again. + +“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?” + +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. + +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. + +“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--” + +“I’ll bring her, sir, if you’ll only go now. I’ll bring her--I will, as +true as I stand here!” + +“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. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. MADONNA’S MOTHER. + +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. + +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 +_caw_ 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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 _you_ mean to stand this sort of outrage, sir, +I beg most respectfully to inform you that _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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +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?” + +“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.” + +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:-- + +“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. + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +“You needn’t wait, Vance,” said the rector. “Never mind about taking the +things away. I’ll ring when you’re wanted.” + +Vance gloomily departed. + +“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?” + +“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--” + +“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.” + +Mrs. Peckover’s eyes began to fill. She could have worshipped Doctor +Joyce at that moment. + +“Mr. Blyth!” exclaimed Mrs. Joyce, sharply, before another word could be +spoken--“excuse me, Mr. Blyth; but really--” + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + + +“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. + +“‘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. + +“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! + +“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. + +“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. + +“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.’ + +“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 _was_ 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. + +“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.’ + +“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.’ + +“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.’ + +“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. + +“‘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. + +“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.’ + +“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 _her_ and +forgive _me,_ 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. + +“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.’ + +“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, _‘In memory of S. G.’_ I +remember all this, sir, for I’ve often and often looked at the bracelet +since that time. + +“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 _Bangbury Chronicle,_ +into which I mean to put the advertisement, goes everywhere in our part +of England.’ + +“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. + +“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.’ + +“This was what I remember in the letter, sir. A shocking and unchristian +letter I said; and the clergyman he said so too. + +“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. + +“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.” + + + + +CHAPTER V. MADONNA’S MISFORTUNE. + +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. + +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. + +“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--” + +“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!” + +“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--” + +“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 +_do_ 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.” + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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-- + +“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--! + +“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. + +“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. + +“‘It’s not killed her,’ says the doctor. ‘Her brain’s escaped injury.’ + +“I didn’t hear another word. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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?’ + +“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?’ + +“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. + +“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.’ + +“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. + +“‘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, _You +Are Deaf;_ ‘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. + +“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. + +“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.’ + +“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. + +“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: +_‘Do you know that the watch is ticking?’_ 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. + +“‘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 _all,_ sir,’ says I, ‘surely not _all!’_ ‘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.’ + +“‘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 +_must_ 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.’ + +“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.’ + +“It was all very well for _him_ to say that, but it was impossible +for _me_ 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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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--” + + +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. + +“Oh, if you please, sir, was that two o’clock?” she asked, starting up +with a look of alarm. + +“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.” + +“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--” + +“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!” + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. MADONNA GOES TO LONDON. + +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. + +“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.” + +“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?” + +“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.” + +“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!” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“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--” + +“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.” + +“Don’t say any more, sir! Don’t break my heart by making me part with +her!” + +“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.” + +“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!” + +“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!” + +Poor Mrs. Peckover showed that she thought of it bitterly enough, by a +fresh burst of tears. + +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.” + +“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!” + +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. + +“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?’ + +“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.” + +“Who is he? What’s his name?” + +“He says his name is Jubber, if you please, sir.” + +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?” + +“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.” + +“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?” + +“Oh, indeed he did, sir!--beat her most cruelly with a cane.” + +“And you saw it all yourself?” + +“I did, sir. He’d have used her worse, if I hadn’t been by to prevent +him.” + +“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?” + +_“Me_ 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.” + +“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.” + +“I’ll do anything to save her, sir; I will indeed.” + +“The condition is that you consent to Mr. Blyth’s proposal; for I can +only ensure the child’s safety on those terms.” + +“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 _her,_ and comfort _me!_ 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. + +“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. + +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. + +“You wished to speak with me?” said the rector, not sitting down +himself, and not asking Mr. Jubber to sit down. + +“Oh! you’re Doctor Joyce?” said the fellow, assuming his most insolent +familiarity of manner directly. + +“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?” + +“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?” + +“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.” + +“You want plain words--eh?” cried Jubber, losing his temper. “Then, by +God, you shall have them, and plain enough!” + +“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.” + +“You will?” + +“I will, most certainly.” + +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. + +“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?” + +“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. + +“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.” + +“I have not the slightest intention of denying it. The child is now in +my house.” + +“And has gone through all her performances, of course? Ah! shabby! +shabby! I should be ashamed of myself, if _I’d_ tried to do a man out of +his rights like that.” + +“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 _your_ child?” + +“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--” + +“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.” + +“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. + +“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.” + +“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!” + +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. + +“And _I_ told _you_ 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. + +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. + +“Have you done dinner down stairs?” asked Doctor Joyce, reddening a +little, but still very quiet. + +“Yes, sir,” answered Vance, in a remarkably conciliating voice. + +“Tell James to go to the constable, and say I want him; and let the +gardener wait with you outside there in the hall.” + +“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 _you_--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. + +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. + +“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! _You_ 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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“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?--” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +“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. + +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. + +“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!” + +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. + + +Early the next morning, Mr. Blyth and little Mary left the Rectory, and +started for London by the first coach. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. MADONNA IN HER NEW HOME. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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, _feel_ 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. + +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. + +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 _and blind too_ 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_ hear nothing, and see nothing--I lose all my senses together +in the dark.” + +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. + +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. + +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?” + +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.* + + * See note at the end of the book. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. MENTOR AND TELEMACHUS. + +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. + +The clock strikes one--and a furious ring is heard at the house-bell. + +“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!” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +We may now get back to the ring at the bell. + +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. + +“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!” + +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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +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.” + +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! + +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. + +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. + +“I say, Blyth, do you and Madonna mind smoke?” asked Zack, lighting his +cigar before there was time to answer him. + +“No--no,” said Valentine. “But, Zack, you wrote me word that your father +had taken all your cigars away from you--” + +“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. + +“Taken to helping yourself!” exclaimed Mr. Blyth. “What do you mean?” + +“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?” + +“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.” + +“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!” + +“Gently, Zack, gently. What would your father say if he heard you?” + +“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 _will_ be an artist. Don’t lecture, +Blyth--it’s no use; but just tell me how I’m to begin learning to draw.” + +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; _she’s_ +forming herself on the Antique.” + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +“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.” + +“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--” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“What did they quarrel about?” inquired Zack. + +“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 _her_ 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?” + +“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.” + +“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?” + +“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!” + +“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?” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“Oh! three o’clock will do. I’ve got lots of time, yet--I can walk it in +half-an-hour.” + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“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!” + + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. THE TRIBULATIONS OF ZACK. + +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. + +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. + + +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 _that_ to be a system of prohibitions also. + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 _could_ 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.” + +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.” + + + + +CHAPTER X. MR. BLYTH’S DRAWING ACADEMY. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“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. + +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. + +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. + +“So you will not even let me tell Valentine who this is a present for?” + were the first words which she signed. + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +Mrs. Blyth touched her shoulder gaily, and, after placing the drawing +again under the coverlet, made her look up, while signing these words; + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +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. + +“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!” + +“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?” + +“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!” + +“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. + +“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?” + +_“Will_ 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!” + +“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?” + +“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!” + +“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!” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“I can feel for him, my love,” said Valentine, pointing a piece of chalk +for Zack. “The tradespeople have harassed _me_--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?” + +“It’s no use,” replied Zack; “I’ve tried it a dozen times, and I find I +can’t draw a Gladiator’s nose.” + +“Can’t!” cried Mr. Blyth, “what do you mean by applying the word ‘can’t’ +to any process of art in _my_ 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. + +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. + +“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. + +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. + +“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?” + +“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.” + +“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?” + +“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!” + +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. + +“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!” + +“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. + +“Madonna’s copy from my bust of the Venus!” cried Valentine, interposing +with his usual readiness, and skipping forward with his accustomed +alacrity. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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.” + +“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. + +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. + +“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?” + +“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. + +“I have a great mind to throw the drawing at your head, instead of +giving it to you!” cried Mrs. Blyth, losing all patience. + +“You don’t mean to say the drawing’s a present to _me!”_ exclaimed Zack, +starting from his chair with one prodigious jump of astonishment. + +“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--” + +“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 _your_ 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. + +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. + +“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’ll_ 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. + +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. + +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! + +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: + +“Pray--pray don’t say anything! I would not have you speak to him just +now for the world!” + +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: + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +“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!” + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“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. + +“It can’t be that tiresome old Lady Brambledown come to worry you again +about altering her picture,” said Mrs. Blyth. + +“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: + +“MRS. PECKOVER.” + + + + +CHAPTER XI. THE BREWING OF THE STORM. + +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. + +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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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?” + +“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. + +“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--” + +“How is he?” interrupted Valentine, handing Mrs. Peckover a cup of tea. + +“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.” + +“And Mrs. Joyce?” + +“Laid up too, sir--it’s a dreadful sick house at the Rectory--laid up +with the inferlenzer.” + +“Have any of the children caught the influenza too?” asked Mrs. Blyth. +“I hope not.” + +“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. + +“Is the child ill?” asked Valentine anxiously. “She’s such a picturesque +little creature, Lavvie! I long to paint her.” + +“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.” + +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. + +“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--” + +“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. + +“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--” + +“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. + +“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.” + +“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. + +Zack looked up bewildered from his tea, and asked directly what those +words meant. + +“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.” + +“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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“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--?” + +“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?” + +“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.” + +“Lord, sir! after all these years, what earthly need have you to be +anxious about such things as that?” + +“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--” + +“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.” + +“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?” + +“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--” + +“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. + +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. + +“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.” + +“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. + +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. + +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. + +“That’s right,” he said; “don’t read any more. I want to have a serious +consultation with you.” + +First a visit from Mrs. Peckover, then a serious consultation with Zack. +This is a night of wonders!--thought Mrs. Blyth. + +“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--” + +“Do you usually mention your secrets in a voice that everybody can +hear?” asked Mrs. Blyth, laughing. + +“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 _her,_ +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--” + +“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.” + +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? + +Zack took Mrs. Blyth’s advice, and sat down by her, with his back +towards the cribbage players. + +“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--” + +(“Fifteen two, fifteen four, and a pair’s six,” said Valentine, +reckoning up the tricks he had in his hand at that moment.) + +“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--” + +“Never mind about other girls,” said Mrs. Blyth. “Tell me what you mean +to give Madonna.” + +(“Two for his heels,” cried Mrs. Peckover, turning up a knave with great +glee.) + +“I mean to give her a Bracelet,” said Zack. + +Valentine looked up quickly from the card table. + +(“Play, please sir,” said Mrs. Peckover; “little Mary’s waiting for +you.”) + +“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.” + +“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!” + +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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“A Hair Bracelet,” continued Zack, quite unconscious of the effect he +was producing on two of the card-players behind him; “and _such_ 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?” + +“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. + +“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.” + +(“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.) + +“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.” + +“The people at the shop will know best,” said Mrs. Blyth, resolving to +proceed cautiously. + +“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.” + +(“You shall never give it to her, if _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!”) + +These last words were spoken with perfect seriousness; for they were the +result of the strongest superstitious conviction. + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +“I dare say you have heard what I have been talking about to Mrs. +Blyth?” he began. + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +“But the servants must be going to bed by this time; and somebody ought +to fasten the bolts,” remonstrated Mr. Blyth. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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. + +“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?” + +“Oho! then you did hear something at the card-table about it, after +all?” said Zack. “Mean? Of course I mean--” + +“And you want to put some of my hair in it?” + +“To be sure I do! Madonna wouldn’t like it without.” + +“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?” + +“I don’t believe it, my old darling.” + +“It’s true enough, I can tell you. Not a hair of my head shall you +have.” + +“Why not?” + +“Never mind why. I’ve got my own reasons.” + +“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.” + +Mrs. Peckover saw that she must change her tactics, or be defeated. + +“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!” + +Zack burst out laughing. “Do you call that a reason? Who ever heard of a +Hair Bracelet being an unlucky gift?” + +At this moment, the door of Mrs. Blyth’s room opened. + +“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. + +“All quite right, sir,” said Mrs. Peckover; adding in a whisper to +Zack:--“Hush! don’t say a word!” + +“Don’t let him keep you in the cold with his nonsense,” said Valentine. + +“My nonsense!--” began Zack, indignantly. + +“He’s going, sir,” interrupted Mrs. Peckover. “I shall be upstairs in a +moment.” + +“Come in, dear, pray! You’re letting all the cold air into the room,” + exclaimed the voice of Mrs. Blyth. + +The door of the room closed again. + +“What _are_ you driving at?” asked Zack, in extreme bewilderment. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“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. + +“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.” + +“It isn’t--Monkey!” returned Mrs. Peckover, her anger fairly boiling +over, as she nodded her head vehemently in Zack’s face. + +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. + +“I hav’n’t let out what I oughtn’t, have I?” thought Mrs. Peckover; +calming down directly, when she heard the movement upstairs. + +“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 _has_ got a Hair Bracelet!” + +“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. + +The step up stairs crossed the room again. + +“Well, upon my life,” cried Zack, “of all the extraordinary old women + +“Hush! he’s going to open the door this time; he is indeed!” + +“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. + +“That’s a good chap! that’s a dear good chap!” exclaimed Mrs. Peckover, +squeezing Zack’s hand in a fervor of unbounded gratitude. + +The door of Mrs. Blyth’s room opened for the second time. + +“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. + +“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 _him,_ as what he made out +somehow and said to _me._ But they’re so sharp, these young London +chaps--they are so awful sharp!” + +Here she stopped on the landing to recover her breath; then whispered to +herself, as she went on and approached Mr. Blyth’s door: + +“But one thing I’m determined on; little Mary shan’t have that Hair +Bracelet!” + + * * * * * + +Even as Mrs. Peckover walked thinking all the way up-stairs, so did Zack +walk wondering all the way home. + +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? + +Here Zack suddenly paused in his mental interrogatories; for he had +arrived within sight of his home in Baregrove Square. + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“Just in time, sir,” said the page, grinning at his young master as he +opened the door. “It’s on the stroke of eleven.” + +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. + + * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + + + +BOOK II. THE SEEKING. + + + +CHAPTER I. THE MAN WITH THE BLACK SKULL-CAP. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“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!” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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: + +“Now, then, young ‘un, suppose you pull a breath, and wipe that bloody +nose of yours.” + +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. + +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. + +“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. + +Young Thorpe heaved a few last expiring gasps of laughter; then became +quiet and serious from sheer exhaustion. + +“Go it again,” said the man of the skull-cap, staring at him as gravely +as ever, “I like to hear you.” + +“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?” + +“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?” + +“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?” + +“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.” + +“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. + +“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--” + +“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?” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“There ain’t nothing particular to tell. What’s your name again?” + +“Zack.” + +“Well, Zack, I was out on the tramp, dodging about after any game that +turned up, on the banks of the Amazon--” + +“Amazon? what’s that? a woman? or a place?” + +“Did you ever hear of South America?” + +“I can’t positively swear to it; but, to the best of my belief, I think +I have.” + +“Well; the Amazon’s a longish bit of a river in those parts. I was out, +as I told you, on the tramp.” + +“So I should think! you look like the sort of man who has tramped +everywhere, and done everything.” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“Not get any sleep. Why not?” + +“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.” + +“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?” + +“Hurt me? Chaps like them _hurt Me!!”_ 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. + +“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?” + +“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.” + +“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?” + +“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.” + +“What! have you only been in England since Sunday?” + +“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.” + +“And suppose nobody does? What then?” + +“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. + +“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?” + +Mat made no answer. He suddenly slackened; then, as suddenly, increased +his pace; dragging young Thorpe with him at a headlong rate. + +“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--” + +“Good night,” said Mat, stopping short, and abruptly holding out his +hand. + +“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?” + +“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 _am_ 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.” + +“Kirk Street? That’s my way. Why can’t we go on together? What do you +want to say good-night here for?” + +“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 _did_ +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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +Zack was a careless guesser; but, in this case, he guessed right. +Something _did_ come of it. + + + + +CHAPTER II. THE PRODIGAL’S RETURN. + +When Zack reached Baregrove Square, it was four in the morning. The +neighboring church clock struck the hour as he approached his own door. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“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. + +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 _tick-tick_ of the +kitchen clock--never audible from the passage in the day time: terribly +and incomprehensibly distinct at this moment. + +“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. + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +“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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“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:-- + +“It’s all over with me; I must bolt from home.” + +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!” + +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:-- + + “Wednesday. + +“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? + +“Introduce anybody you like; but I should prefer _intellectual_ 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. + + “Affectionately yours, + + “V. BLYTH.” + + +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.” + +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:-- + + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“I feel so miserable, and have got such a headache, that I can’t write +any more. Ever yours, + + “Z. THORPE, JUN.” + + +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. + +“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. + +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. + +“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. + +He took his hat from the table. _His_ 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! + +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. + +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. + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER III. THE SEARCH BEGUN. + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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:-- + +_Bradford and Son (late Joshua Grice), Linendrapers, Hosiers, &c., &c._ + +The board on which these words were traced was continued over the +smaller shop, where it was additionally superscribed thus:-- + +_Mrs. Bradford (late Joanna Grice), Milliner and Dressmaker._ + +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. + +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. + +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:--_Come unto me all ye that +are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest._ 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!” + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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-- + +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. + +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--” + +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. + +“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!” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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 _was_ 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!” + +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. + +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? + +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. + +Was the child born alive? + +The answer came again in the same harsh whisper--Yes: born alive. + +What became of it? + +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. + +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? + +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? + +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. + +He was bent on knowing what that ruined wretch left behind her? Well! he +should see for himself! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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:-- + + +“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.” + + +Beyond those words, he made no effort to read further. Thrusting the +letter hastily into his pocket, he turned once more to the box. + +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. + +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. + +This was what he read:-- + + +“MY DEAREST MARY, + +“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. + +“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 _blush unseen,_ 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. + +“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 _ought;_ +but _you_ are sure to say he will--and I am quite ready, love, to +believe that you are the wiser of the two. + +“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! + + “Ever your affectionate friend, + + “JANE HOLDSWORTH. + +“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.” + + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER IV. FATE WORKS, WITH ZACK FOR AN INSTRUMENT. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + +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. + +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. + +“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?” + +“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.” + +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. + +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.” + +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.” + +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:-- + +“Take my advice, young ‘un, and keep all that talking for somebody else: +it’s gibberish to _me._ 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. _Will_ 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. + +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. + +“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?” + +Yes; Zack certainly wanted a bed; but-- + +“There’s one for you,” remarked Mat, pointing through the folding-doors +into the back room. _“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.” + +Zack tried to expostulate again, but Mat interrupted him more gruffly +than ever. + +“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 _you_ in spite of that. Damn the +bed! Take or leave it, which you like.” + +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:-- + +“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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“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. + +“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?” + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +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.” + +“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 +_him_ a great deal of harm, and do _you_ 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?” + +“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.” + +“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--” + +“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?” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“Get out of his debt,” said Valentine, earnestly--“Get out of his debt, +at any rate.” + +“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.” + +“This is no laughing matter, Zack,” said Valentine, shaking his head +doubtfully. + +“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.” + +Mr. Blyth began to look a little puzzled. The stranger’s behavior about +the money was rather staggering, to say the least of it. + +“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?” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“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?” + +“Back to Kirk Street. This is my nearest way; and I promised Mat--” + +“Remember what you promised _me,_ and what I am going to promise your +mother--” + +“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.” + +“I hope I shan’t find it all wrong,” said Mr. Blyth, forebodingly, as he +followed the road to his own house. + + + + +CHAPTER V. FATE WORKS, WITH MR. BLYTH FOR AN INSTRUMENT. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +Here there was a brief pause in the procession of visitors. Mrs. Blyth +beckoned to Madonna, and began talking on her fingers. + +“No signs of Zack yet--are there, love?” + +The girl looked anxiously towards the window, and shook her head. + +“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.” + +Madonna’s color rose directly. She looked amazed, sorry, perplexed, and +incredulous by turns. Zack behaving badly?--she would never believe it! + +“I mean to make him ashamed of himself, if he ventures near me!” pursued +Mrs. Blyth. + +“And I shall try if I can’t console him afterwards,” thought Madonna, +turning away her head for fear her face should betray her. + +Another ring at the bell! “There he is, perhaps,” continued Mrs. Blyth, +nodding in the direction of the window, as she signed those words. + +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. + +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. + +“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. + +“Come and sit down by me, father, and see Madonna doing the visitors. +It’s funnier than any play that ever was acted.” + +“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. + +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. + + +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. + +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. + +“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?” + +“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.--_Will_ +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. + +Not a hand was held out. Bashfulness is frequently infectious; and it +proved to be so on this particular occasion. + +“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?” + +Thus encouraged, Valentine took his station (wand in hand) beneath +“Columbus,” and unrolled the manuscript. + +“What a very peculiar man Mr. Blyth is!” whispered one of the lady +visitors to an acquaintance behind her. + +“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. + +“The pictures which I have the honor to exhibit,” began Valentine from +the manuscript, “have been painted on a principle--” + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“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--” + +Here Valentine broke down at the end of a paragraph; and the gardener +made an abortive effort to get back to the doorway. + +“Capital, Blyth!” cried Lady Brambledown. “Liberal, comprehensive, +progressive, profound. Gardener, don’t fidget!” + +“The true philosophy of art--the true philosophy of art, my lady,” added +Mr. Gimble, the picture-dealer. + +“Crude?” said Mr. Hemlock, the critic, appealing confidentially to Mr. +Bullivant, the sculptor. + +“What?” inquired that gentleman. + +“Blyth’s principles of criticism,” answered Mr. Hemlock. + +“Oh, yes! extremely so,” said Mr. Bullivant. + + +“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. + +“Glorious!” cried enthusiastic Mr. Gimble. + +“Turgid,” muttered critical Mr. Hemlock. + +“Very,” assented compliant Mr. Bullivant. + +“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. + + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +(Another pause. Nobody said a word, but everybody was relieved by the +final departure of the mystic element.) + +“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 _Biceps +Flexor Cubiti_--” + +“Mercy on us! what’s that?” cried Lady Brambledown. “Anything improper?” + +“The _Biceps Flexor Cubiti,_ 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--” + +“Follow the wand, my dear madam, pray follow the wand! This is the +_Biceps,”_ 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 +_Biceps,_ Lady Brambledown, is a tremendously strong muscle--” + +“Which arises in the human body, your Ladyship,” interposed the Doctor, +“by two heads--” + +“Which is used,” continued Valentine, cutting him short--“I beg your +pardon, Doctor, but this is important--which is used--” + +“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--” + +“But, my dear sir!” cried Valentine-- + +“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--” + +“I don’t want to make any!” cried Mr. Blyth, gesticulating violently in +the direction of Columbus. “I only want to--” + +“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 _can_ NOT sanction it!” + +“Will you let me say two words?” asked Valentine. + +“Two hundred thousand, my good sir, on any other subject,” assented the +Doctor, with a sarcastic smile; “but on _this_ subject--” + +“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 _Biceps_ 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--” + +“The origin of the _Biceps Flexor Cubiti,_ your Ladyship,” resumed the +pertinacious Doctor; “is by two heads. The first begins, if I may so +express myself, _tendinous,_ from the glenoid cavity of the scapula--” + +“That man is a pedantic jackass,” whispered Mr. Hemlock to his friend. + +“And yet he hasn’t a bad head for a bust!” rejoined Mr. Bullivant. + +“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!” + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +“How late you are!” he said, as he shook hands with young Thorpe. + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +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:-- + +“Peter Wilkins taking a voyage along with his flying wives.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“Well?” whispered Zack, humoring him, “suppose he was, what of that?” + +“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. + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +“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_ set eyes on. Well! it’s not my business. Let’s have another +look at the picter.” + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +“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. + +“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--” + +“Don’t worry yourself about that,” answered Mat; “I don’t suppose I +should understand you if you _could_ 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER VI. THE FINDING OF THE CLUE. + +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. + +“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. + +“Come out,” said Mat. Young Thorpe looked at him in amazement; even the +sound of his voice had altered! + +“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. + +_“She?_ Who do you mean?” inquired young Thorpe. + +“I mean that young woman they were all staring at.” + +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!” + +“Damn your laughing! Tell me who she is.” + +“Tell you who she is? That’s exactly what I can’t do.” + +“Why not? What do you mean? Does she belong to painter-man?” + +“Oh, fie, Mat! You mustn’t talk of a young lady _belonging_ 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.” + +“Tell it then; and be quick about it.” + +“Well, first of all, she is not Blyth’s daughter--though some +scandal-mongering people have said she is--” + +“Nor yet his wife?” + +“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 _has_ told anybody, and never +_will._ 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?” + +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-- + +“Why won’t the painter-man tell any body who she is?” + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“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. + +“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?” + +“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! + +“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.” + +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. + +“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 +_me.”_ + +“How did it happen?” said. Mat, with eager, angry curiosity. + +“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.” + +“What did she say?” asked Mat, more eager, more angry, and more curious +than ever. + +“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?” + +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. + +“A Hair Bracelet?” he said, vacantly. + +“Don’t be sulky!” cried Zack, clapping him on the shoulder. + +“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. + +“What’s what like?” + +“A Hair Bracelet.” + +“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.” + +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. + +“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. + +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!” + +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! + +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? + +Away, at the other end of the solitary suburban street, just visible +sauntering along and swinging his stick in his hand. + +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. + +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.” + +“Well!” cried Zack, speaking as he came on. “Well, Cupid! what do you +want with me now?” + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“What’s the young woman’s real name?” he asked carelessly, just as Zack +was beginning to banter him for the third time. + +“Is that all you called me back for? Her real name’s Mary.” + +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. + +“Mary!” he repeated in a tone of surprise. “What else, besides Mary?” + +“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. + +“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. + +“Trust _me_ 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.” + +He nodded over his shoulder at Zack, and walked away quickly in the +direction of Kirk Street. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. THE BOX OF LETTERS. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 _hold in;_ +and then he’s sure to _let out.”_ + +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. + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +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: + + +“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 _me,_ love, as I am now, and always, thinking of _you;_ +and I know you will come. Ever and only yours, + + “A. C.” + + +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. + +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. + +The first of the two was expressed thus:-- + + +“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 _you,_ and all to be placed in your dear hand. + +“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.” + + +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: + + +“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. + +“If it only rested with _me_ 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. + +“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.” + + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. JOANNA GRICE’S NARRATIVE. + +“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--” + + +(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.) + + +“--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.’ + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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--” + + +(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.) + + +“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. + +“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--” + + +(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.) + + +“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. + +“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.” + + +(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.) + + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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 _she_ set +her foot on our threshold, should be the day when _I_ left my home and +my birth place for ever. + +“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. + +“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. + +“I deserved to suffer for this; and I did suffer for it. + +“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. + +“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. + +“The news of her death came in the March month of the new year, 1828. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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.” + + +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.” + +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.” + +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 _him,_ 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--” + +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 _may_ 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. + +“As for the child mentioned in the advertisement”--those were the words +to which he was now referring. _“The child?”_--There was no mention of +its sex. “I should like to know if it was a boy or a girl,” thought Mat. + +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:-- + +“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.” + + +“There it is again!” cried Mat, dropping the letter in astonishment, the +instant those two significant words, “Hair Bracelet,” caught his eye. + +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. + +“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.” + + + + +CHAPTER IX. MORE DISCOVERIES. + +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. + +“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.” + +“Do you mean he’s coming to have a drop of grog and smoke a pipe along +with us two?” asked Mat rather amazedly. + +“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. + +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. + +“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.” + +“What does he do with them picters of his?” asked Mat. “Sell ‘em?” + +“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. + +“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?” + +_“He_ 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.” + +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--) + +“He’s the most generous fellow in the world,” continued Zack, lighting a +cigar; “and the best pay: ask any of his tradespeople.” + +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. + +“Is he going to bring anybody else in here along with him, to-morrow +night?” asked Mat. + +“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?” + +“How old is the young woman?” inquired Mat, contemplatively snuffing the +candle with his fingers, as he put the question. + +“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.” + +(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.) + +“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--” + +“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!” + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +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!” + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +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! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + +Meanwhile, how had Mat been occupying himself, since he had left his +young friend alone in the lodging in Kirk Street? + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“Now I’m all ready for the Painter-Man,” growled Mat behind the +handkerchief, as he quietly settled himself to go to sleep. + + + + +CHAPTER X. THE SQUAW’S MIXTURE. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“Oh don’t mention it,” answered Valentine, laughing. “It was all my +awkwardness.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“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?” + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“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--” + +“So I did,” said Zack, sipping his rum-and-water with infinite relish. + +“The fact is, my dear sir,” continued Valentine, “I have the most +wretched head in the world for strong liquor of any kind--” + +“Don’t call it strong liquor,” interposed Mat, emphatically tapping the +rim of his guest’s tumbler with his fore-finger. + +“Perhaps,” pursued Mr. Blyth, with a polite smile, “I ought to have said +grog.” + +“Don’t call it grog,” retorted Mat, with two disputatious taps on the +rim of the glass. + +“Dear me!” asked Valentine, amazedly, “what is it then?” + +“It’s Squaw’s Mixture,” answered Mat, with three distinct taps of +asseveration. + +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.” + +“What a very curious name! how is it made?” asked Valentine. + +“Enough Brandy to spile the Water. Enough Rum to spile the Brandy and +Water. Enough Lemon to spile the Rum _and_ Brandy _and_ Water. Enough +Sugar to spile everything. That’s ‘Squaw’s Mixture,’” replied Mat with +perfect calmness and deliberation. + +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. + +“When I was out, over there, in the Nor’-West,” began Mat, nodding +towards the particular point of the compass that he mentioned. + +“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. + +“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.” + +“Let _me_ try it--let’s see how weak it is,” cried Zack, reaching over +to Valentine. + +“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 _your_ grog; I’ll stick to +_my_ grog; and _he’ll_ 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. + +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.” + +“Too hot you mean?” said Mat. + +“No, indeed,” pleaded poor Mr. Blyth, “I really meant too strong.” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“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. + +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. + +“All our good healths!” repeated Mr. Blyth, gallantly attacking the +squaw’s mixture this time without any intermediate assistance from the +spoon. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +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. + +“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. + +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!” + +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. + +“Wonderful! wonderful!” cried Mr. Blyth, looking excessively relieved +when he found himself safely set down on the floor again. + +“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.” + +“Thank you, Zack, I’m perfectly satisfied without risking the waistband +of my trousers,” rejoined Valentine, returning in a great hurry to the +table. + +“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. + +“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. + +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. + +“Give you another toast, you noisy old savage!” repeated Zack, “I’ll +give you _five,_ 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. + +“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.” + +“Change along with me,” said Mat. “I don’t mind heat, nor cold neither, +for the matter of that.” + +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--” + +“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_ 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. + +“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.” + +“What on earth _is_ 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. + +“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. + +“What painting-room? Where is it?” asked Mat, still in a densely +stupefied condition. + +“My painting-room,” replied Valentine. “Where you saw the pictures, and +saved Columbus, yesterday.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“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. + +“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--” + +“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. + +“Half a glass,” cried Mr. Blyth. “Weak--remember my wretched head for +drinking, and pray make it weak.” + +As he spoke, the clock of the neighboring parish church struck. + +“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!” + + * * * * * * + +If any fourth gentleman had been present to assist in “spending the +evening,” as Zack chose to phrase it, at the small social _soiree_ 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. + +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. + +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. + +“There’s ten,” muttered Mat, as the clock struck. “I said we should be +getting jolly by ten. So we are.” + +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. + +“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 _not_ 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?” + +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. + +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?” + +“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.” + +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. + +“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?” + +“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.” + +“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. + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“Hurt?” inquired Mat, pulling him up by the collar, and dragging him +into the room. + +“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!” + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +“Got it?” asked the hunch-back in a cracked querulous voice the moment +the door was ajar. + +“All right,” answered Mat in his gruffest bass tones, handing to the +little man the tin tobacco-box. + +“We said to-morrow evening, didn’t we?” continued the squalid shopman. + +“Not later than six,” added Mat. + +“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. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. THE GARDEN DOOR. + +“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. + +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? + +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. + +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. + +“Oh Lord, Mat!” he moaned, “my head’s coming in two.” + +“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. + +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. + +“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!” + +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. + +“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--” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +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. + +“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?” + +“The picter, in course,” answered Mat, with unusual quickness and +irritability. + +“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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“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. + +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. + +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. + +Punctually at seven o’clock Mr. Blyth’s visitors rang at his bell. + +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. + +“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.” + +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 _you_ would make!” + he felt inclined to say. Zack, however, spoke at that moment: so he left +the sketch, and wisely held his tongue. + +“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. + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +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! + +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. + +“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 _him._ That’s what I say to _you._ I’m a rough ‘un, I know; but I +hav’n’t broke out of prison, or cheated the gallows--” + +“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--” + +“That’s it,” Mat broke in quickly. “Family troubles. Drop it there; and +you’ll leave it right.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“Do you think the young woman would fancy this for a kind of plaything?” + he asked. + +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. + +“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. + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“Too late!” muttered Mat. “I must chance it, after all, with the garden +door.” + +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. + +“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--” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“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!” + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +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!” + +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!” + +“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. + +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. + +“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.” + +“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--” + +“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?” + +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. + +“Here, Mat!” cried Zack. “Come and mix yourself something hot. Blyth’s +been trying to do it for you, and can’t.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“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--” + +“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. + +“I am afraid you must be tired with the long sitting you have so kindly +given me,” added Valentine. + +“No,” answered Mat, after a moment’s consideration; “not tired. Only +sleepy. I’d best go home. What’s o’clock?” + +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. + +“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!” + +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. + +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. + +“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?” + +“No,” said Mat; “I’m too sleepy. I shall go on home.” + +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. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. THE HAIR BRACELET. + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +“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. + +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. + +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. + +“I say, did you lock the garden door?” said Polly to Patty through the +banisters. + +“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. + +“Hadn’t you better see to it again, to make sure?” suggested the +cautious cook. + +“Hadn’t _you?_ It’s _your_ place,” retorted the careless house-maid. + +“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.” + +“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. + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +The light came close: the door opened--opened gently, till it just +touched him as he stood with his back against the wall. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +If she should touch him? If she should be sensible of the motion of +_his_ 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. + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“M. G. In memory of S. G.” + +_“Mary Grice. In memory of Susan Grice.”_ Mat’s hand closed fast on the +Bracelet--and dropped heavily on his knee, as he uttered those words. + + * * * * * * + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“Why, Mat, old boy!” he said soothingly, “you look a little out of +sorts. What’s wrong?” + +Mat scoured away at the barrel of the gun harder than ever, and gave no +answer. + +“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.” + +“A rifle bullet will do for _my_ game, if I put it up,” said Mat, +suddenly and fiercely fixing his eyes on Zack. + +“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--” + +Here Zack’s reflections were interrupted by the voice of his eccentric +friend. + +“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. + +“No,” said Zack. “Not that I can remember.” + +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:-- + +_“Arthur_ Carr?” + +“No,” returned Zack. “I never met with a man of that name. Is he a +friend of yours?” + +Mat went on scouring the rifle barrel. + +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?” + +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. + +“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. + +“If what?” asked Zack. + +“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--” + +“Then what’s the use of looking after him?” interposed Zack. + +“The use is, I’ve got it into my head that he’s alive, and that I shall +find him,” returned Mat. + +“‘Well?” said young Thorpe eagerly. + +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. + +“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--” + +“Well, what of them?” interrupted Mat, looking up instantly with a +fierce, suspicious stare. + +“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--” + +“What of _her?”_ 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. + +“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--” + +“It happened afore ever you was born.” + +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. + +“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. + +Astonishment and curiosity impelled young Thorpe to hazard another +question. + +“Was she a sweetheart of yours?” he asked, unconsciously sinking his +voice to a whisper, “or a relation, or--” + +“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. + +“Was she your mother?” + +“No.” + +“Sister?” + +“Yes.” + +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. + +“Drop it,” said Mat peremptorily. “Don’t let’s talk no more, my head--” + +“Anything wrong with your head?” asked Zack. + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“Zack,” he whispered, “you ask about among your friends if any of ‘em +ever knowed a man with that name I told you of.” + +“Do you mean the _‘Arthur Carr’_ you were talking about just now?” + inquired young Thorpe. + +“Yes; _Arthur Carr,”_ 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. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. THE SEARCH FOR ARTHUR CARR. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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? + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“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.” + +“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!” + +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. + +“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.” + +Communing with himself in this way, he reached the turning that led to +Joanna Grice’s cottage. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“A friend of the late Miss Grice’s?” asked a gently inquisitive voice +near him. + +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. + +“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. + +Still Mat kept his eyes fixed on the funeral proceedings in front, and +took not the smallest notice of the pertinacious speaker behind him. + +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. + +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. + +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 _her._ + +“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. + +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. + +“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--” + +“Well,” interrupted Mat, gruffly, “suppose I am; what then?” + +“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. + +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? + +“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--” + +“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. + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +“Mother went away, sir, three days ago, to nurse uncle Bob at Bangbury,” + answered the girl. + +(Here was a second check--a second obstacle to defer the tracing of +Arthur Carr! It seemed like a fatality!) + +“When do you expect her back?” asked Mat. + +“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.” + +_(Bangbury!_--Where had he heard that name before?) + +“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.” + +“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?” + +“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.” + +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! + +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. + +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.” + +“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. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. MARY’S GRAVE. + +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. + +“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. + +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?” + +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. + +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. + +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? + +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. + +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. + +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. + +He was the first to speak. “Do you know whose grave this is?” he asked. + +“Yes, sir,” answered Mrs. Peckover, glancing indignantly at the broken +board and the mud and brambles all about it. “Yes, sir, I _do_ 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!” + +“I asked you whose grave it was,” repeated Mat, impatiently. + +“A poor, unfortunate, forsaken creature’s, who’s gone to Heaven if ever +an afflicted, repenting woman went there yet!” answered Mrs. Peckover, +warmly. + +“Forsaken? Afflicted? A woman, too?” Mat repeated to himself, +thoughtfully. + +“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!” + +Mat looked up suddenly and eagerly. “What’s your name?” he inquired. + +“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?” + +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. + +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?” + +“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?” + +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!” + +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!” + +“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?” + +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. + +“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 _him!”_ + +“Please do listen to me, sir, for one moment,” pleaded Mrs. Peckover, +more nervously than before. _“Does_ 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?” + +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. + +“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--” + +“Tell me about her.” He said those few words with surprising gentleness, +as Mrs. Peckover thought, for such a rough-looking man. + +“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--” + +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. + +“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--” + +“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.” + +“You!” + +“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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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?” + +“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.” + +“Oh! who was he? who was he?” asked Mrs. Peckover, eagerly + +“Who was he?” repeated Matthew, sternly. “What do you mean by asking me +that?” + +“I only mean that I never heard a word about the villain--I don’t so +much as know his name.” + +“You don’t?” He fastened his eyes suspiciously on her as he said those +two words. + +“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.” + +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. + +“Let’s hear first how you met with her,” he said. “I’ll have a word or +two about the other matter afterwards.” + +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!” + +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. + +“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.” + +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.” + +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: + +“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. + +“Lord bless me!” she exclaimed, “what do you mean? What has that got to +do with your poor sister, or Mr. Blyth?” + +“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--” + +“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.” + +“For what?” inquired Mat, looking her eagerly in the face. + +“Just for this: that you’ll promise not to take little Mary from Mr. +Blyth. Do, pray do promise me you won’t.” + +“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.” + +“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--” + +“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.” + +“Well, thank you for saying that much; though you might have put it +civiler--” + +“His name was Arthur Carr. Did you never hear tell of anybody with the +name of Arthur Carr?” + +“No: never--never till this very moment.” + +“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.” + +“Painter-man?” repeated Mrs. Peckover. “Painter? Surely you don’t mean +Mr. Blyth?” + +“Yes, I do.” + +“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.” + +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. + +“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. + +“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--” + +“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!” + +“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.” + +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. + +“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. + +“I was alway a bitter bad ‘un, _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--” + +“Why? What for?” + +“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.” + +“Who wrote it? Mary?” + +“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?” + +“Yes, yes, I see. Ah! poor man! he couldn’t give no kinder better +advice; and you--” + +“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.” + +“You don’t mean to say you’ve done nothing but wander about in foreign +parts from that time to this?” + +“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.” + +“Tramps’ fever! Mercy on me! what do you mean?” + +“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.” + +“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?” + +“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.” + +“More shame for you! Whatever else you forgot, you oughtn’t to have +forgotten--” + +“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 _me,_ +when _I_ run away; so I didn’t doubt but what he’d do it just the same +for _her._ 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. + +“There! there!” interposed Mrs. Peckover, soothingly. “Talk about +something pleasanter. Let’s hear how you come back to England.” + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +“But how did you ever think of coming back, after all those years?” + asked Mrs. Peckover. + +“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.” + +“Ah! no wonder, no wonder!” + +“It was a wonder to _me,_ 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 _her_ 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.” + +“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?” + +“All? There wasn’t no _all_ 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--” + +“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.” + +“Zack took me into the Painter-man’s big room--” + +“Zack! Why, good gracious Heavens! do you mean Master Zachary Thorpe?” + +“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.’” + +“But, do pray tell me, how ever you come to know Master Zack?” + +“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.” + +“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.” + +“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 _may_ say that, afore I go back, and lose sight of her +for good and all.” + +“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--’” + +“Stop! Don’t you get a-talking about Mr. Grice.” + +“Why not? It’s your lawful name, isn’t it?” + +“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.” + +“Well, then--Mat,” said Mrs. Peckover with a smile. “I’ve got such a +many things to ask you still--” + +“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?” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“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 _pro +forma_ that he is the party he represents himself to be. You thoroughly +understand, Mr. Scutt?” + +Mr. Scutt bowed reverently. Mr. Nawby went on. + +“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.” + +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? + +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. + +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.” + +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. + +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!” + + + + +CHAPTER XV. THE DISCOVERY OF ARTHUR CARR. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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:-- + + +“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, + + “Z. THORPE, jun.” + + +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. + +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. + +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: + + +“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. + +“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, + + “Z. THORPE, jun. + +“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.” + + +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. + +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. + + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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.” + + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + +“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.” + +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?” + +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.” + +“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!” + +“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. + +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. + +“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. + +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.” + +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-- + +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. + +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. + +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 _her_ money might be made to minister in this way to his comfort, +his happiness, and even his restoration to health! + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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! + + +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--_this_ shock prostrated it in an instant. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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 _him._ But what elder relatives had he? and +which of them was he most like? + +Did he take after his father? + +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. + +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. + +“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--” + +His voice began to grow faint, and he left the sentence unfinished. + +“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?” + +“What sort of a man! How do you mean?” + +“To look at. Are you like him in the face?” + +“Lord help you, Mat! as little like as possible. My father’s face is all +wrinkled and marked.” + +“Aye, aye, like other old men’s faces. His hair’s grey, I suppose?” + +“Quite white. By-the-by--talking of that--there _is_ one point I’m like +him in--at least, like what he _was,_ when he was a young man.” + +“What’s that?” + +“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?” + +“Yes, yes. And what did you hear your mother say?” + +“Oh, nothing particular. Only that when he was a young man, his hair was +exactly like what mine is now.” + + +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. + +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. + +_“Your_ 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. _“Your_ 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: + +“I’m brothers with Zack--there’s the hard part of it!--I’m brothers with +Zack.” + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. THE DAY OF RECKONING. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +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, _he_ 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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +This message was delivered, and had the desired effect. Mat was admitted +into the drawing-room immediately. + +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. + +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. + +“You have come, sir,” Mr. Thorpe began, “to tell me--” + +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. + +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? + +“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--” + +“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.” + +“Will you take a seat, and be good enough to explain yourself?” + +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. + +“May I inquire your name?” he said, in his lowest and calmest tones. + +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. + +“I’ve been hearing about this,” he said. “Are all them names there, the +names of friends of yours?” + +Mr. Thorpe looked a little astonished; but he answered after a moment’s +hesitation: + +“Certainly; the most valued friends I have in the world.” + +“Friends,” pursued Mat, reading to himself the introductory sentence in +the address, _“who have put the most affectionate trust in you.”_ + +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.” + +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 _‘who have put the most affectionate trust in +you,’”_ he repeated. “The name of one of them friends isn’t here. It +ought to be; and I mean to put it down.” + +As the point of his pencil touched the paper of the Address, Mr. Thorpe +started from his chair. + +“What am I to understand, sir, by this conduct?” he began haughtily, +stretching out his hand to possess himself of the Address. + +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.” + +Mr. Thorpe’s face began to look a little agitated. He took a step +towards the fireplace, intending to ring the bell. + +“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. + +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. + +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. + +“Read that name,” said Mat. + +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. + +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. + +Mat rose to his feet and spoke; eyeing him pitilessly from head to foot. + +“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 _you._ Carr or Thorpe, +whichever you call yourself; I know how you used her from first to last! +_Her_ father was _my_ father; _her_ name is _my_ name: you were _her_ +worst enemy three-and-twenty year ago; you are _my_ worst enemy now. I’m +her brother, Matthew Grice!” + +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. + +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--” + +After those four last words, he listened for no more. The merciless +spirit was roused in him again the moment he heard them. + +“Spare you the disgrace?” he repeated, starting to his feet. “Did you +spare _her?_--Not you!” + +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. + +“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.” + +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, + +“Yes,” he said, pitiless as ever. “Yes: Mary’s child. Your child. +Haven’t you seen her? Is it _that_ 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--” + +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. + + +Dead? + + +A thought of Zack welled up into his heart, and troubled it. + +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. + +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. + +In the passage down-stairs, he met one of the female servants, who +opened the street-door for him. + +“Your master wants you,” he said, with an effort. He spoke those words, +passed by her, and left the house. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. MATTHEW GRICE’S REVENGE. + +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. + +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. + +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. + + +“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.” + +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 _Thorpe._ “Wait a bit,” he +said, as Zack spoke again just then, “I want to read my letter. We’ll +talk after.” + +This is what he read:-- + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“I went away, being assured beforehand that my absence would not last +more than three or four months at the most. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“Two years after that time I married, under circumstances not of an +ordinary kind--what circumstances you have no claim to know. _That_ part +of my life is my secret and my wife’s, and belongs to us alone. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“It now only remains for me to advert to the two enclosures contained in +this letter. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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.” + + +With this the letter ended. + +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. + +Zack spoke to him before long from the inner room. + +“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?” + +“I know he would, Zack.” + +“You! How?” + +“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. + +“Oh! how I wish I was strong enough to start! Come in here, Mat, and +let’s talk about it.” + +“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. + +“What can you be about all this time?” asked young Thorpe. + +“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.” + +“Trying? What do you mean? I don’t understand, old fellow.” + +“Never mind: you’ll make it out better some day. Let’s talk about +getting aboard ship, and going a buffalo-hunting now.” + +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. + + +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. + +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!” + +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. + +“I can’t help it,” said the simple-hearted painter. “It would even +affect _you,_ 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 _her_ hand which held up the hair for you to look at, and +_her_ little innocent action which led to the discovery of who her +father really was!” + +“Do you ever mean to let her know as much about it as we do?” asked +Matthew. + +The look of dismay began to appear again in Valentine’s face. “Have you +told Zack, yet?” he inquired, nervously and eagerly. + +“No,” said Mat; “and don’t _you!_ 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.” + +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. + +“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?” + +No: Matthew would willingly wait. Hearing this, Mr. Blyth left the room +directly. + +He remained away a long time. When he came back, his face did not seem +to have gained in composure during his absence. + +“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.” + +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 _his_ 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. + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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.” + +“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.” + +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. + +The day of departure arrived. + +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.” + +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. + +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. + +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 _you_ again with him?” + +Mat took the painter aside, without directly answering him. + +“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.” + + * * * * * + +Sadly and thoughtfully, Valentine returned alone to his own house. He +went up at once to his wife’s room. + +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. + +“Have you ventured to tell her all, Lavvie?” he asked. + +Mrs. Blyth was not able to speak in answer--she looked at him with +tearful eyes, and bowed her head. + +Valentine lingered at the door for a moment-then softly closed it, and +left them together. + + + + +CLOSING CHAPTER. A YEAR AND A HALF AFTERWARDS. + +It is sunset after a fine day in August, and Mr. Blyth is enjoying the +evening breeze in the invalid room. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +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. + +“Hot as ever, eh? Shall I get you one of Lavvie’s fans?” says Mr. Blyth. + +“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.” + +“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.” + +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: + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“‘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.’ + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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. + +“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--” + + +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--” + +“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--_here he is!_ 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. + +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. + +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. + +“She is thinking of the comrade you have lost,” says the painter, +addressing himself, a little sadly, to Zack. + +“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.” + +“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?” + +“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.” + +***** + +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. + +“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.” + +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. + + + + +NOTE TO CHAPTER VII. 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. + + + + + + +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 7893-0.txt or 7893-0.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 + +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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