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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Esther Waters, by George Moore
+
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+Title: Esther Waters
+
+Author: George Moore
+
+Release Date: May, 2005  [EBook #8157]
+[This file was first posted on June 22, 2003]
+
+Edition: 10
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: US-ASCII
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, ESTHER WATERS ***
+
+
+
+
+E-text prepared by Eric Eldred, Clay Massei, Charles Franks, and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team
+
+
+
+Esther Waters
+
+by
+
+GEORGE MOORE
+
+
+
+
+
+
+1899
+
+
+I
+
+
+She stood on the platform watching the receding train. A few bushes hid
+the curve of the line; the white vapour rose above them, evaporating in
+the pale evening. A moment more and the last carriage would pass out of
+sight. The white gates swung forward slowly and closed over the line.
+
+An oblong box painted reddish brown and tied with a rough rope lay on the
+seat beside her. The movement of her back and shoulders showed that the
+bundle she carried was a heavy one, the sharp bulging of the grey linen
+cloth that the weight was dead. She wore a faded yellow dress and a black
+jacket too warm for the day. A girl of twenty, short, strongly built, with
+short, strong arms. Her neck was plump, and her hair of so ordinary a
+brown that it passed unnoticed. The nose was too thick, but the nostrils
+were well formed. The eyes were grey, luminous, and veiled with dark
+lashes. But it was only when she laughed that her face lost its habitual
+expression, which was somewhat sullen; then it flowed with bright humour.
+She laughed now, showing a white line of almond-shaped teeth. The porter
+had asked her if she were afraid to leave her bundle with her box. Both,
+he said, would go up together in the donkey-cart. The donkey-cart came
+down every evening to fetch parcels.... That was the way to Woodview,
+right up the lane. She could not miss it. She would find the lodge gate in
+that clump of trees. The man lingered, for she was an attractive girl, but
+the station-master called him away to remove some luggage.
+
+It was a barren country. Once the sea had crawled at high tide half-way up
+the sloping sides of those downs. It would do so now were it not for the
+shingle bank which its surging had thrown up along the coast. Between the
+shingle bank and the shore a weedy river flowed and the little town stood
+clamped together, its feet in the water's edge. There were decaying
+shipyards about the harbour, and wooden breakwaters stretched long, thin
+arms seawards for ships that did not come. On the other side of the
+railway apple blossoms showed above a white-washed wall; some market
+gardening was done in the low-lying fields, whence the downs rose in
+gradual ascents. On the first slope there was a fringe of trees. That was
+Woodview.
+
+The girl gazed on this bleak country like one who saw it for the first
+time. She saw without perceiving, for her mind was occupied with personal
+consideration. She found it difficult to decide whether she should leave
+her bundle with her box. It hung heavy in her hand, and she did not know
+how far Woodview was from the station. At the end of the platform the
+station-master took her ticket, and she passed over the level-crossing
+still undecided. The lane began with iron railings, laurels, and French
+windows. She had been in service in such houses, and knew if she were
+engaged in any of them what her duties would be. But the life in Woodview
+was a great dream, and she could not imagine herself accomplishing all
+that would be required of her. There would be a butler, a footman, and a
+page; she would not mind the page--but the butler and footman, what would
+they think? There would be an upper-housemaid and an under-housemaid, and
+perhaps a lady's-maid, and maybe that these ladies had been abroad with
+the family. She had heard of France and Germany. Their conversation would,
+no doubt, turn on such subjects. Her silence would betray her. They would
+ask her what situations she had been in, and when they learned the truth
+she would have to leave disgraced. She had not sufficient money to pay for
+a ticket to London. But what excuse could she give to Lady Elwin, who had
+rescued her from Mrs. Dunbar and got her the place of kitchen-maid at
+Woodview? She must not go back. Her father would curse her, and perhaps
+beat her mother and her too. Ah! he would not dare to strike her again,
+and the girl's face flushed with shameful remembrance. And her little
+brothers and sisters would cry if she came back. They had little enough to
+eat as it was. Of course she must not go back. How silly of her to think
+of such a thing!
+
+She smiled, and her face became as bright as the month: it was the first
+day of June. Still she would be glad when the first week was over. If she
+had only a dress to wear in the afternoons! The old yellow thing on her
+back would never do. But one of her cotton prints was pretty fresh; she
+must get a bit of red ribbon--that would make a difference. She had heard
+that the housemaids in places like Woodview always changed their dresses
+twice a day, and on Sundays went out in silk mantles and hats in the
+newest fashion. As for the lady's-maid, she of course had all her
+mistress's clothes, and walked with the butler. What would such people
+think of a little girl like her! Her heart sank at the thought, and she
+sighed, anticipating much bitterness and disappointment. Even when her
+first quarter's wages came due she would hardly be able to buy herself a
+dress: they would want the money at home. Her quarter's wages! A month's
+wages most like, for she'd never be able to keep the place. No doubt all
+those fields belonged to the Squire, and those great trees too; they must
+be fine folk, quite as fine as Lady Elwin--finer, for she lived in a house
+like those near the station.
+
+On both sides of the straight road there were tall hedges, and the
+nursemaids lay in the wide shadows on the rich summer grass, their
+perambulators at a little distance. The hum of the town died out of the
+ear, and the girl continued to imagine the future she was about to enter
+on with increasing distinctness. Looking across the fields she could see
+two houses, one in grey stone, the other in red brick with a gable covered
+with ivy; and between them, lost in the north, the spire of a church. On
+questioning a passer-by she learnt that the first house was the Rectory,
+the second was Woodview Lodge. If that was the lodge, what must the house
+be?
+
+Two hundred yards further on the road branched, passing on either side of
+a triangular clump of trees, entering the sea road; and under the leaves
+the air was green and pleasant, and the lungs of the jaded town girl drew
+in a deep breath of health. Behind the plantation she found a large
+white-painted wooden gate. It opened into a handsome avenue, and the
+gatekeeper told her to keep straight on, and to turn to the left when she
+got to the top. She had never seen anything like it before, and stopped
+to admire the uncouth arms of elms, like rafters above the roadway; pink
+clouds showed through, and the monotonous dove seemed the very heart of
+the silence.
+
+Her doubts returned; she never would be able to keep the place. The avenue
+turned a little, and she came suddenly upon a young man leaning over the
+paling, smoking his pipe.
+
+"Please sir, is this the way to Woodview?"
+
+"Yes, right up through the stables, round to the left." Then, noticing the
+sturdily-built figure, yet graceful in its sturdiness, and the bright
+cheeks, he said, "You look pretty well done; that bundle is a heavy one,
+let me hold it for you."
+
+"I am a bit tired," she said, leaning the bundle on the paling. "They told
+me at the station that the donkey-cart would bring up my box later on."
+
+"Ah, then you are the new kitchen-maid? What's your name?"
+
+"Esther Waters."
+
+"My mother's the cook here; you'll have to mind your p's and q's or else
+you'll be dropped on. The devil of a temper while it lasts, but not a bad
+sort if you don't put her out."
+
+"Are you in service here?"
+
+"No, but I hope to be afore long. I could have been two years ago, but
+mother did not like me to put on livery, and I don't know how I'll face
+her when I come running down to go out with the carriage."
+
+"Is the place vacant?" Esther asked, raising her eyes timidly, looking at
+him sideways.
+
+"Yes, Jim Story got the sack about a week ago. When he had taken a drop
+he'd tell every blessed thing that was done in the stables. They'd get him
+down to the 'Red Lion' for the purpose; of course the squire couldn't
+stand that."
+
+"And shall you take the place?"
+
+"Yes. I'm not going to spend my life carrying parcels up and down the
+King's Road, Brighton, if I can squeeze in here. It isn't so much the
+berth that I care about, but the advantages, information fresh from the
+fountain-head. You won't catch me chattering over the bar at the 'Red
+Lion' and having every blessed word I say wired up to London and printed
+next morning in all the papers."
+
+Esther wondered what he was talking about, and, looking at him, she saw a
+low, narrow forehead, a small, round head, a long nose, a pointed chin,
+and rather hollow, bloodless cheeks. Notwithstanding the shallow chest, he
+was powerfully built, the long arms could deal a swinging blow. The low
+forehead and the lustreless eyes told of a slight, unimaginative brain,
+but regular features and a look of natural honesty made William Latch a
+man that ten men and eighteen women out of twenty would like.
+
+"I see you have got books in that bundle," he said at the end of a long
+silence. "Fond of readin'?"
+
+"They are mother's books," she replied, hastily. "I was afraid to leave
+them at the station, for it would be easy for anyone to take one out, and
+I should not miss it until I undid the bundle."
+
+"Sarah Tucker--that's the upper-housemaid--will be after you to lend them
+to her. She is a wonderful reader. She has read every story that has come
+out in _Bow Bells_ for the last three years, and you can't puzzle her, try
+as you will. She knows all the names, can tell you which lord it was that
+saved the girl from the carriage when the 'osses were tearing like mad
+towards a precipice a 'undred feet deep, and all about the baronet for
+whose sake the girl went out to drown herself in the moonlight, I 'aven't
+read the books mesel', but Sarah and me are great pals,"
+
+Esther trembled lest he might ask her again if she were fond of reading;
+she could not read. Noticing a change in the expression of her face, he
+concluded that she was disappointed to hear that he liked Sarah and
+regretted his indiscretion.
+
+"Good friends, you know--no more. Sarah and me never hit it off; she will
+worry me with the stories she reads. I don't know what is your taste, but
+I likes something more practical; the little 'oss in there, he is more to
+my taste." Fearing he might speak again of her books, she mustered up
+courage and said--
+
+"They told me at the station that the donkey-cart would bring up my box."
+
+"The donkey-cart isn't going to the station to-night--you'll want your
+things, to be sure. I'll see the coachman; perhaps he is going down with
+the trap. But, golly! it has gone the half-hour. I shall catch it for
+keeping you talking, and my mother has been expecting you for the last
+hour. She hasn't a soul to help her, and six people coming to dinner. You
+must say the train was late."
+
+"Let us go, then," cried Esther. "Will you show me the way?"
+
+Over the iron gate which opened into the pleasure-ground, thick branches
+of evergreen oaks made an arch of foliage, and between the trees a glimpse
+was caught of the angles and urns of an Italian house--distant about a
+hundred yards. A high brick wall separated the pleasure-ground from the
+stables, and as William and Esther turned to the left and walked up the
+roadway he explained that the numerous buildings were stables. They passed
+by many doors, hearing the trampling of horses and the rattling of chains.
+Then the roadway opened into a handsome yard overlooked by the house, the
+back premises of which had been lately rebuilt in red brick. There were
+gables and ornamental porches, and through the large kitchen windows the
+servants were seen passing to and fro. At the top of this yard was a gate.
+It led into the park, and, like the other gate, was overhung by bunched
+evergreens. A string of horses came towards this gate, and William ran to
+open it. The horses were clothed in grey cloth. They wore hoods, and
+Esther noticed the black round eyes looking through the eyelet holes. They
+were ridden by small, ugly boys, who swung their little legs, and struck
+them with ash plants when they reached their heads forward chawing at the
+bits. When William returned he said, "Look there, the third one; that's
+he--that's Silver Braid."
+
+An impatient knocking at the kitchen window interrupted his admiration,
+and William, turning quickly, said, "Mind you say the train was late;
+don't say I kept you, or you'll get me into the devil of a pickle. This
+way." The door let into a wide passage covered with coconut matting. They
+walked a few yards; the kitchen was the first door, and the handsome room
+she found herself in did not conform to anything that Esther had seen or
+heard of kitchens. The range almost filled one end of the room, and on it
+a dozen saucepans were simmering; the dresser reached to the ceiling, and
+was covered with a multitude of plates and dishes. Esther thought how she
+must strive to keep it in its present beautiful condition, and the elegant
+white-capped servants passing round the white table made her feel her own
+insignificance.
+
+"This is the new kitchen-maid, mother."
+
+"Ah, is it indeed?" said Mrs. Latch looking up from the tray of tartlets
+which she had taken from the oven and was filling with jam. Esther noticed
+the likeness that Mrs. Latch bore to her son. The hair was iron grey, and,
+as in William's face, the nose was the most prominent feature.
+
+"I suppose you'll tell me the train was late?"
+
+"Yes, mother, the train was a quarter of an hour late," William chimed in.
+
+"I didn't ask you, you idle, lazy, good-for-nothing vagabond. I suppose it
+was you who kept the girl all this time. Six people coming to dinner, and
+I've been the whole day without a kitchen-maid. If Margaret Gale hadn't
+come down to help me, I don't know where we should be; as it is, the
+dinner will be late."
+
+The two housemaids, both in print dresses, stood listening. Esther's face
+clouded, and when Mrs. Latch told her to take her things off and set to
+and prepare the vegetables, so that she might see what she was made of,
+Esther did not answer at once. She turned away, saying under her breath,
+"I must change my dress, and my box has not come up from the station yet."
+
+"You can tuck your dress up, and Margaret Gale will lend you her apron."
+
+Esther hesitated.
+
+"What you've got on don't look as if it could come to much damage. Come,
+now, set to."
+
+The housemaids burst into loud laughter, and then a sullen look of dogged
+obstinacy passed over and settled on Esther's face, even to the point of
+visibly darkening the white and rose complexion.
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+
+A sloping roof formed one end of the room, and through a broad, single
+pane the early sunlight fell across a wall papered with blue and white
+flowers. Print dresses hung over the door. On the wall were two
+pictures--a girl with a basket of flowers, the coloured supplement of an
+illustrated newspaper, and an old and dilapidated last century print. On
+the chimney-piece there were photographs of the Gale family in Sunday
+clothes, and the green vases that Sarah had given Margaret on her
+birthday.
+
+And in a low, narrow iron bed, pushed close against the wall in the full
+glare of the sunlight, Esther lay staring half-awake, her eyes open but
+still dim with dreams. She looked at the clock. It was not yet time to get
+up, and she raised her arms as if to cross them behind her head, but a
+sudden remembrance of yesterday arrested her movement, and a sudden shadow
+settled on her face. She had refused to prepare the vegetables. She hadn't
+answered, and the cook had turned her out of the kitchen. She had rushed
+from the house under the momentary sway of hope that she might succeed in
+walking back to London; but William had overtaken her in the avenue, he
+had expostulated with her, he had refused to allow her to pass. She had
+striven to tear herself from him, and, failing, had burst into tears.
+However, he had been kind, and at last she had allowed him to lead her
+back, and all the time he had filled her ears with assurances that he
+would make it all right with his mother. But Mrs. Latch had closed her
+kitchen against her, and she had had to go to her room. Even if they paid
+her fare back to London, how was she to face her mother? What would father
+say? He would drive her from the house. But she had done nothing wrong.
+Why did cook insult her?
+
+As she pulled on her stockings she stopped and wondered if she should
+awake Margaret Gale. Margaret's bed stood in the shadow of the obliquely
+falling wall; and she lay heavily, one arm thrown forward, her short,
+square face raised to the light. She slept so deeply that for a moment
+Esther felt afraid. Suddenly the eyes opened, and Margaret looked at her
+vaguely, as if out of eternity. Raising her hands to her eyes she said--
+
+"What time is it?"
+
+"It has just gone six."
+
+"Then there's plenty of time; we needn't be down before seven. You get on
+with your dressing; there's no use in my getting up till you are
+done--we'd be tumbling over each other. This is no room to put two girls
+to sleep in--one glass not much bigger than your hand. You'll have to get
+your box under your bed.... In my last place I had a beautiful room with a
+Brussels carpet, and a marble washstand. I wouldn't stay here three days
+if it weren't----" The girl laughed and turned lazily over.
+
+Esther did not answer.
+
+"Now, isn't it a grubby little room to put two girls to sleep in? What was
+your last place like?"
+
+Esther answered that she had hardly been in service before. Margaret was
+too much engrossed in her own thoughts to notice the curtness of the
+answer.
+
+"There's only one thing to be said for Woodview, and that is the eating;
+we have anything we want, and we'd have more than we want if it weren't
+for the old cook: she must have her little bit out of everything and she
+cuts us short in our bacon in the morning. But that reminds me! You have
+set the cook against you; you'll have to bring her over to your side if
+you want to remain here."
+
+"Why should I be asked to wash up the moment I came in the house, before
+even I had time to change my dress."
+
+"It was hard on you. She always gets as much as she can out of her
+kitchen-maid. But last night she was pressed, there was company to dinner.
+I'd have lent you an apron, and the dress you had on wasn't of much
+account."
+
+"It isn't because a girl is poor----"
+
+"Oh, I didn't mean that; I know well enough what it is to be hard up."
+Margaret clasped her stays across her plump figure and walked to the door
+for her dress. She was a pretty girl, with a snub nose and large, clear
+eyes. Her hair was lighter in tone than Esther's, and she had brushed it
+from her forehead so as to obviate the defect of her face, which was too
+short.
+
+Esther was on her knees saying her prayers when Margaret turned to the
+light to button her boots.
+
+"Well, I never!" she exclaimed. "Do you think prayers any good?"
+
+Esther looked up angrily.
+
+"I don't want to say anything against saying prayers, but I wouldn't
+before the others if I was you--they'll chaff dreadful, and call you
+Creeping Jesus."
+
+"Oh, Margaret, I hope they won't do anything so wicked. But I am afraid I
+shan't be long here, so it doesn't matter what they think of _me_."
+
+When they got downstairs they opened the windows and doors, and Margaret
+took Esther round, showing her where the things were kept, and telling her
+for how many she must lay the table. At that moment a number of boys and
+men came clattering up the passage. They cried to Esther to hurry up,
+declaring that they were late. Esther did not know who they were, but she
+served them as best she might. They breakfasted hastily and rushed away to
+the stables; and they had not been long gone when the squire and his son
+Arthur appeared in the yard. The Gaffer, as he was called, was a man of
+about medium height. He wore breeches and gaiters, and in them his legs
+seemed grotesquely thick. His son was a narrow-chested, undersized young
+man, absurdly thin and hatchet-faced. He was also in breeches and gaiters,
+and to his boots were attached long-necked spurs. His pale yellow hair
+gave him a somewhat ludicrous appearance, as he stood talking to his
+father, but the moment he prepared to get into the saddle he seemed quite
+different. He rode a beautiful chestnut horse, a little too thin, Esther
+thought, and the ugly little boys were mounted on horses equally thin. The
+squire rode a stout grey cob, and he watched the chestnut, and was also
+interested in the brown horse that walked with its head in the air,
+pulling at the smallest of all the boys, a little freckled, red-headed
+fellow.
+
+"That's Silver Braid, the brown horse, the one that the Demon is riding;
+the chestnut is Bayleaf, Ginger is riding him: he won the City and
+Suburban. Oh, we did have a fine time then, for we all had a bit on. The
+betting was twenty to one, and I won twelve and six pence. Grover won
+thirty shillings. They say that John--that's the butler--won a little
+fortune; but he is so close no one knows what he has on. Cook wouldn't
+have anything on; she says that betting is the curse of servants--you know
+what is said, that it was through betting that Mrs. Latch's husband got
+into trouble. He was steward here, you know, in the late squire's time."
+
+Then Margaret told all she had heard on the subject. The late Mr. Latch
+had been a confidential steward, and large sums of money were constantly
+passing through his hands for which he was never asked for any exact
+account. Contrary to all expectation, Marksman was beaten for the Chester
+Cup, and the squire's property was placed under the charge of a receiver.
+Under the new management things were gone into more closely, and it was
+then discovered that Mr. Latch's accounts were incapable of satisfactory
+explanation. The defeat of Marksman had hit Mr. Latch as hard as it had
+hit the squire, and to pay his debts of honour he had to take from the
+money placed in his charge, confidently hoping to return it in a few
+months. The squire's misfortunes anticipated the realization of his
+intentions; proceedings were threatened, but were withdrawn when Mrs.
+Latch came forward with all her savings and volunteered to forego her
+wages for a term of years. Old Latch died soon after, some lucky bets set
+the squire on his legs again, the matter was half forgotten, and in the
+next generation it became the legend of the Latch family. But to Mrs.
+Latch it was an incurable grief, and to remove her son from influences
+which, in her opinion, had caused his father's death, Mrs. Latch had
+always refused Mr. Barfield's offers to do something for William. It was
+against her will that he had been taught to ride; but to her great joy he
+soon grew out of all possibility of becoming a jockey. She had then placed
+him in an office in Brighton; but the young man's height and shape marked
+him out for livery, and Mrs. Latch was pained when Mr. Barfield proposed
+it. "Why cannot they leave me my son?" she cried; for it seemed to her
+that in that hateful cloth, buttons and cockade, he would be no more her
+son, and she could not forget what the Latches had been long ago.
+
+"I believe there's going to be a trial this morning," said Margaret;
+"Silver Braid was stripped--you noticed that--and Ginger always rides in
+the trials."
+
+"I don't know what a trial is," said Esther. "They are not
+carriage-horses, are they? They look too slight."
+
+"Carriage-horses, you ninny! Where have you been to all this while--can't
+you see that they are race-horses?"
+
+Esther hung down her head and murmured something which Margaret didn't
+catch.
+
+"To tell the truth, I didn't know much about them when I came, but then
+one never hears anything else here. And that reminds me--it is as much as
+your place is worth to breathe one syllable about them horses; you must
+know nothing when you are asked. That's what Jim Story got sacked
+for--saying in the 'Red Lion' that Valentine pulled up lame. We don't know
+how it came to the Gaffer's ears. I believe that it was Mr. Leopold that
+told; he finds out everything. But I was telling you how I learnt about
+the race-horses. It was from Jim Story--Jim was my pal--Sarah is after
+William, you know, the fellow who brought you into the kitchen last night.
+Jim could never talk about anything but the 'osses. We'd go every night
+and sit in the wood-shed, that's to say if it was wet; if it was fine we'd
+walk in the drove-way. I'd have married Jim, I know I should, if he hadn't
+been sent away. That's the worst of being a servant. They sent Jim away
+just as if he was a dog. It was wrong of him to say the horse pulled up
+lame; I admit that, but they needn't have sent him away as they did."
+
+Esther was absorbed in the consideration of her own perilous position.
+Would they send her away at the end of the week, or that very afternoon?
+Would they give her a week's wages, or would they turn her out destitute
+to find her way back to London as best she might? What should she do if
+they turned her out-of-doors that very afternoon? Walk back to London? She
+did not know if that was possible. She did not know how far she had
+come--a long distance, no doubt. She had seen woods, hills, rivers, and
+towns flying past. Never would she be able to find her way back through
+that endless country; besides, she could not carry her box on her back....
+What was she to do? Not a friend, not a penny in the world. Oh, why did
+such misfortune fall on a poor little girl who had never harmed anyone in
+the world! And if they did give her her fare back--what then?... Should
+she go home?... To her mother--to her poor mother, who would burst into
+tears, who would say, "Oh, my poor darling, I don't know what we shall do;
+your father will never let you stay here."
+
+For Mrs. Latch had not spoken to her since she had come into the kitchen,
+and it seemed to Esther that she had looked round with the air of one
+anxious to discover something that might serve as a pretext for blame. She
+had told Esther to make haste and lay the table afresh. Those who had gone
+were the stable folk, and breakfast had now to be prepared for the other
+servants. The person in the dark green dress who spoke with her chin in
+the air, whose nose had been pinched to purple just above the nostrils,
+was Miss Grover, the lady's-maid. Grover addressed an occasional remark to
+Sarah Tucker, a tall girl with a thin freckled face and dark-red hair. The
+butler, who was not feeling well, did not appear at breakfast, and Esther
+was sent to him with a cup of tea.
+
+There were the plates to wash and the knives to clean, and when they were
+done there were potatoes, cabbage, onions to prepare, saucepans to fill
+with water, coal to fetch for the fire. She worked steadily without
+flagging, fearful of Mrs. Barfield, who would come down, no doubt, about
+ten o'clock to order dinner. The race-horses were coming through the
+paddock-gate; Margaret called to Mr. Randal, a little man, wizen, with a
+face sallow with frequent indigestions.
+
+"Well, do you think the Gaffer's satisfied?" said Margaret. John made no
+articulate reply, but he muttered something, and his manner showed that he
+strongly deprecated all female interest in racing; and when Sarah and
+Grover came running down the passage and overwhelmed him with questions,
+crowding around him, asking both together if Silver Braid had won his
+trial, he testily pushed them aside, declaring that if he had a race-horse
+he would not have a woman-servant in the place.... "A positive curse, this
+chatter, chatter. Won his trial, indeed! What business had a lot of female
+folk----" The rest of John's sarcasm was lost in his shirt collar as he
+hurried away to his pantry, closing the door after him.
+
+"What a testy little man he is!" said Sarah; "he might have told us which
+won. He has known the Gaffer so long that he knows the moment he looks at
+him whether the gees are all right."
+
+"One can't speak to a chap in the lane that he doesn't know all about it
+next day," said Margaret. "Peggy hates him; you know the way she skulks
+about the back garden and up the 'ill so that she may meet young Johnson
+as he is ridin' home."
+
+"I'll have none of this scandal-mongering going on in my kitchen," said
+Mrs. Latch. "Do you see that girl there? She can't get past to her
+scullery."
+
+Esther would have managed pretty well if it had not been for the
+dining-room lunch. Miss Mary was expecting some friends to play tennis
+with her, and, besides the roast chicken, there were the cotelettes a la
+Soubise and a curry. There was for dessert a jelly and a blancmange, and
+Esther did not know where any of the things were, and a great deal of time
+was wasted. "Don't you move, I might as well get it myself," said the old
+woman. Mr. Randal, too, lost his temper, for she had no hot plates ready,
+nor could she distinguish between those that were to go to the dining-room
+and those that were to go to the servants' hall. She understood, however,
+that it would not be wise to give way to her feeling, and that the only
+way she could hope to retain her situation was by doing nothing to attract
+attention. She must learn to control that temper of hers--she must and
+would. And it was in this frame of mind and with this determination that
+she entered the servants' hall.
+
+There were not more than ten or eleven at dinner, but sitting close
+together they seemed more numerous, and quite half the number of faces
+that looked up as she took her place next to Margaret Gale, were unknown
+to her. There were the four ugly little boys whom she had seen on the race
+horses, but she did not recognize them at first, and nearly opposite,
+sitting next to the lady's-maid, was a small, sandy-haired man about
+forty: he was beginning to show signs of stoutness, and two little round
+whiskers grew out of his pallid cheeks. Mr. Randal sat at the end of the
+table helping the pudding. He addressed the sandy-haired man as Mr.
+Swindles; but Esther learnt afterwards his real name was Ward, and that he
+was Mr. Barfield's head groom. She learnt, too, that "the Demon" was not
+the real name of the little carroty-haired boy, and she looked at him in
+amazement when he whispered in her ear that he would dearly love a real
+go-in at that pudding, but that it was so fattening that he didn't ever
+dare to venture on more than a couple of sniffs. Seeing that the girl did
+not understand, he added, by way of explanation, "You know that I must
+keep under the six stone, and at times it becomes awful 'ard."
+
+Esther thought him a nice little fellow, and tried to persuade him to
+forego his resolution not to touch pudding, until Mr. Swindles told her to
+desist. The attention of the whole table being thus drawn towards the boy,
+Esther was still further surprised at the admiration he seemed so easily
+to command and the important position he seemed to occupy, notwithstanding
+his diminutive stature, whereas the bigger boys were treated with very
+little consideration. The long-nosed lad, with weak eyes and sloping
+shoulders, who sat on the other side of the table on Mr. Swindles' left,
+was everybody's laughing-stock, especially Mr. Swindles', who did not
+cease to poke fun at him. Mr. Swindles was now telling poor Jim's
+misadventures with the Gaffer.
+
+"But why do you call him Mr. Leopold when his name is Mr. Randal?" Esther
+ventured to inquire of the Demon.
+
+"On account of Leopold Rothschild," said the Demon; "he's pretty near as
+rich, if the truth was known--won a pile over the City and Sub. Pity you
+weren't there; might have had a bit on."
+
+"I have never seen the City," Esther replied innocently.
+
+"Never seen the City and Sub!... I was up, had a lot in hand, so I came
+away from my 'orses the moment I got into the dip. The Tinman nearly
+caught me on the post--came with a terrific rush; he is just hawful, that
+Tinman is. I did catch it from the Gaffer--he did give it me."
+
+The plates of all the boys except the Demon's were now filled with
+beefsteak pudding, potatoes, and greens, likewise Esther's. Mr. Leopold,
+Mr. Swindles, the housemaid, and the cook dined off the leg of mutton, a
+small slice of which was sent to the Demon. "That for a dinner!" and as he
+took up his knife and fork and cut a small piece of his one slice, he
+said, "I suppose you never had to reduce yourself three pounds; girls
+never have. I do run to flesh so, you wouldn't believe it. If I don't walk
+to Portslade and back every second day, I go up three or four pounds. Then
+there's nothing for it but the physic, and that's what settles me. Can you
+take physic?"
+
+"I took three Beecham's pills once."
+
+"Oh, that's nothing. Can you take castor-oil?"
+
+Esther looked in amazement at the little boy at her side. Swindles had
+overheard the question and burst into a roar of laughter. Everyone wanted
+to know what the joke was, and, feeling they were poking fun at her,
+Esther refused to answer.
+
+The first helpings of pudding or mutton had taken the edge off their
+appetites, and before sending their plates for more they leaned over the
+table listening and laughing open-mouthed. It was a bare room, lit with
+one window, against which Mrs. Latch's austere figure appeared in
+dark-grey silhouette. The window looked on one of the little back courts
+and tiled ways which had been built at the back of the house; and the
+shadowed northern light softened the listening faces with grey tints.
+
+"You know," said Mr. Swindles, glancing at Jim as if to assure himself
+that the boy was there and unable to escape from the hooks of his sarcasm,
+"how fast the Gaffer talks, and how he hates to be asked to repeat his
+words. Knowing this, Jim always says, 'Yes, sir; yes, sir.' 'Now do you
+quite understand?' says the Gaffer. 'Yes, sir; yes, sir,' replies Jim, not
+having understood one word of what was said; but relying on us to put him
+right. 'Now what did he say I was to do?' says Jim, the moment the Gaffer
+is out of hearing. But this morning we were on ahead, and the Gaffer had
+Jim all to himself. As usual he says, 'Now do you quite understand?' and
+as usual Jim says, 'Yes, sir; yes, sir.' Suspecting that Jim had not
+understood, I said when he joined us, 'Now if you are not sure what he
+said you had better go back and ask him,' but Jim declared that he had
+perfectly understood. 'And what did he tell you to do?' said I. 'He told
+me,' says Jim, 'to bring the colt along and finish up close by where he
+would be standing at the end of the track.' I thought it rather odd to
+send Firefly such a stiff gallop as all that, but Jim was certain that he
+had heard right. And off they went, beginning the other side of Southwick
+Hill. I saw the Gaffer with his arms in the air, and don't know now what
+he said. Jim will tell you. He did give it you, didn't he, you old
+Woolgatherer?" said Mr. Swindles, slapping the boy on the shoulder.
+
+"You may laugh as much as you please, but I'm sure he did tell me to come
+along three-quarter speed after passing the barn," replied Jim, and to
+change the conversation he asked Mr. Leopold for some more pudding, and
+the Demon's hungry eyes watched the last portion being placed on the
+Woolgatherer's plate. Noticing that Esther drank no beer, he exclaimed--
+
+"Well, I never; to see yer eat and drink one would think that it was you
+who was a-wasting to ride the crack at Goodwood."
+
+The remark was received with laughter, and, excited by his success, the
+Demon threw his arms round Esther, and seizing her hands, said, "Now yer a
+jest beginning to get through yer 'osses, and when you get on a level----"
+But the Demon, in his hungry merriment, had bestowed no thought of finding
+a temper in such a staid little girl, and a sound box on the ear threw him
+backwards into his seat surprised and howling. "Yer nasty thing!" he
+blubbered out. "Couldn't you see it was only a joke?" But passion was hot
+in Esther. She had understood no word that had been said since she had sat
+down to dinner, and, conscious of her poverty and her ignorance, she
+imagined that a great deal of the Demon's conversation had been directed
+against her; and, choking with indignation, she only heard indistinctly
+the reproaches with which the other little boys covered her--"nasty,
+dirty, ill-tempered thing, scullery-maid," etc.; nor did she understand
+their whispered plans to duck her when she passed the stables. All looked
+a little askance, especially Grover and Mr. Leopold. Margaret said--
+
+"That will teach these impertinent little jockey-boys that the servants'
+hall is not the harness-room; they oughtn't to be admitted here at all."
+
+Mr. Leopold nodded, and told the Demon to leave off blubbering. "You can't
+be so much hurt as all that. Come, wipe your eyes and have a piece of
+currant tart, or leave the room. I want to hear from Mr. Swindles an
+account of the trial. We know that Silver Braid won, but we haven't heard
+how he won nor yet what the weights were."
+
+"Well," said Mr. Swindles, "what I makes out is this. I was riding within
+a pound or two of nine stone, and The Rake is, as you know, seven pounds,
+no more, worse than Bayleaf. Ginger rides usually as near as possible my
+weight--we'll say he was riding nine two--I think he could manage
+that--and the Demon, we know, he is now riding over the six stone; in his
+ordinary clothes he rides six seven."
+
+"Yes, yes, but how do we know that there was any lead to speak of in the
+Demon's saddle-cloth?"
+
+"The Demon says there wasn't above a stone. Don't you, Demon?"
+
+"I don't know nothing! I'm not going to stand being clouted by the
+kitchen-maid."
+
+"Oh, shut up, or leave the room," said Mr. Leopold; "we don't want to hear
+any more about that."
+
+"I started making the running according to orders. Ginger was within
+three-quarters of a length of me, being pulled out of the saddle. The
+Gaffer was standing at the three-quarters of the mile, and there Ginger
+won fairly easily, but they went on to the mile--them were the orders--and
+there the Demon won by half a length, that is to say if Ginger wasn't
+a-kidding of him."
+
+"A-kidding of me!" said the Demon. "When we was a hundred yards from 'ome
+I steadied without his noticing me, and then I landed in the last fifty
+yards by half a length. Ginger can't ride much better than any other
+gentleman."
+
+"Yer see," said Mr. Swindles, "he'd sooner have a box on the ear from the
+kitchen-maid than be told a gentleman could kid him at a finish. He
+wouldn't mind if it was the Tinman, eh, Demon?"
+
+"We know," said Mr. Leopold, "that Bayleaf can get the mile; there must
+have been a lot of weight between them. Besides, I should think that the
+trial was at the three-quarters of the mile. The mile was so much kid."
+
+"I should say," replied Mr. Swindles, "that the 'orses were tried at
+twenty-one pounds, and if Silver Braid can beat Bayleaf at that weight,
+he'll take a deal of beating at Goodwood."
+
+And leaning forward, their arms on the table, with large pieces of cheese
+at the end of their knives, the maid-servants and the jockey listened
+while Mr. Leopold and Mr. Swindles discussed the chances the stable had of
+pulling off the Stewards' Cup with Silver Braid.
+
+"But he will always keep on trying them," said Mr. Swindles, "and what's
+the use, says I, of trying 'orses that are no more than 'alf fit? And them
+downs is just rotten with 'orse watchers; it has just come to this, that
+you can't comb out an 'orse's mane without seeing it in the papers the day
+after. If I had my way with them gentry----" Mr. Swindles finished his
+beer at a gulp, and he put down his glass as firmly as he desired to put
+down the horse watchers. At the end of a long silence Mr. Leopold said--
+
+"Come into my pantry and smoke a pipe. Mr. Arthur will be down presently.
+Perhaps he'll tell us what weight he was riding this morning."
+
+"Cunning old bird," said Mr. Swindles, as he rose from the table and wiped
+his shaven lips with the back of his hand; "and you'd have us believe that
+you didn't know, would you? You'd have us believe, would you, that the
+Gaffer don't tell you everything when you bring up his hot water in the
+morning, would you?"
+
+Mr. Leopold laughed under his breath, and looking mysterious and very
+rat-like he led the way to his pantry. Esther watched them in strange
+trouble of soul. She had heard of racecourses as shameful places where men
+were led to their ruin, and betting she had always understood to be
+sinful, but in this house no one seemed to think of anything else. It was
+no place for a Christian girl.
+
+"Let's have some more of the story," Margaret said. "You've got the new
+number. The last piece was where he is going to ask the opera-singer to
+run away with him."
+
+Sarah took an illustrated journal out of her pocket and began to read
+aloud.
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+
+Esther was one of the Plymouth Brethren. In their chapel, if the house in
+which they met could be called a chapel, there were neither pictured
+stories of saints, nor vestments, nor music, nor even imaginative
+stimulant in the shape of written prayers. Her knowledge of life was
+strictly limited to her experience of life; she knew no drama of passion
+except that which the Gospels relate: this story in the _Family Reader_
+was the first representation of life she had met with, and its humanity
+thrilled her like the first idol set up for worship. The actress told
+Norris that she loved him. They were on a balcony, the sky was blue, the
+moon was shining, the warm scent of the mignonette came up from the garden
+below, the man was in evening dress with diamond shirt studs, the
+actress's arm was large and white. They had loved each other for years.
+The strangest events had happened for the purpose of bringing them
+together, and, fascinated against her will, Esther could not but listen.
+But at the end of the chapter the racial instinct forced reproval from
+her.
+
+"I am sure it is wicked to read such tales."
+
+Sarah looked at her in mute astonishment. Grover said--
+
+"You shouldn't be here at all. Can't Mrs. Latch find nothing for you to do
+in the scullery?"
+
+"Then," said Sarah, awaking to a sense of the situation, "I suppose that
+where you come from you were not so much as allowed to read a tale;
+... dirty little chapel-going folk!"
+
+The incident might have closed with this reproval had not Margaret
+volunteered the information that Esther's box was full of books.
+
+"I should like to see them books," said Sarah. "I'll be bound that they
+are only prayer-books."
+
+"I don't mind what you say to me, but you shall not insult my religion."
+
+"Insult your religion! I said you never had read a book in your life
+unless it was a prayer-book."
+
+"We don't use prayer-books."
+
+"Then what books have you read?"
+
+Esther hesitated, her manner betrayed her, and, suspecting the truth,
+Sarah said:
+
+"I don't believe that you can read at all. Come, I'll bet you twopence
+that you can't read the first five lines of my story."
+
+Esther pushed the paper from her and walked out of the room in a tumult of
+grief and humiliation. Woodview and all belonging to it had grown
+unbearable, and heedless to what complaint the cook might make against her
+she ran upstairs and shut herself into her room. She asked why they should
+take pleasure in torturing her. It was not her fault if she did not know
+how to read. There were the books she loved for her mother's sake, the
+books that had brought such disgrace upon her. Even the names she could
+not read, and the shame of her ignorance lay upon her heavier than a
+weight of lead. "Peter Parley's Annual," "Sunny Memories of Foreign
+Lands," "Children of the Abbey," "Uncle Tom's Cabin," Lamb's "Tales of
+Shakespeare's Plays," a Cooking Book, "Roda's Mission of Love," the Holy
+Bible and the Common Prayer Book.
+
+She turned them over, wondering what were the mysteries that this print
+held from her. It was to her mysterious as the stars.
+
+Esther Waters came from Barnstaple. She had been brought up in the
+strictness of the Plymouth Brethren, and her earliest memories were of
+prayers, of narrow, peaceful family life. This early life had lasted till
+she was ten years old. Then her father died. He had been a house-painter,
+but in early youth he had been led into intemperance by some wild
+companions. He was often not in a fit state to go to work, and one day the
+fumes of the beer he had drunk overpowered him as he sat in the strong
+sunlight on his scaffolding. In the hospital he called upon God to relieve
+him of his suffering; then the Brethren said, "You never thought of God
+before. Be patient, your health is coming back; it is a present from God;
+you would like to know Him and thank Him from the bottom of your heart?"
+
+John Waters' heart was touched. He became one of the Brethren, renouncing
+those companions who refused to follow into the glory of God. His
+conversion and subsequent grace won for him the sympathies of Mary
+Thornby. But Mary's father would not consent to the marriage unless John
+abandoned his dangerous trade of house-painter. John Waters consented to
+do this, and old James Thornby, who had made a competence in the curiosity
+line, offered to make over his shop to the young couple on certain
+conditions; these conditions were accepted, and under his father-in-law's
+direction John drove a successful trade in old glass, old jewellery, and
+old furniture.
+
+The Brethren liked not this trade, and they often came to John to speak
+with him on the subject, and their words were----
+
+"Of course this is between you and the Lord, but these things" (pointing
+to the old glass and jewellery) "often are but snares for the feet, and
+lead weaker brethren into temptation. Of course, it is between you and the
+Lord."
+
+So John Waters was tormented with scruples concerning the righteousness of
+his trade, but his wife's gentle voice and eyes, and the limitations that
+his accident, from which he had never wholly recovered, had set upon his
+life, overruled his scruples, and he remained until he died a dealer in
+artistic ware, eliminating, however, from his dealings those things to
+which the Brethren most strongly objected.
+
+When he died his widow strove to carry on the business, but her father,
+who was now a confirmed invalid, could not help her. In the following year
+she lost both her parents. Many changes were taking place in Barnstaple,
+new houses were being built, a much larger and finer shop had been opened
+in the more prosperous end of the town, and Mrs. Waters found herself
+obliged to sell her business for almost nothing, and marry again. Children
+were born of this second marriage in rapid succession, the cradle was
+never empty, and Esther was spoken of as the little nurse.
+
+Her great solicitude was for her poor mother, who had lost her health,
+whose blood was impoverished by constant child-bearing. Mother and
+daughter were seen in the evenings, one with a baby at her breast, the
+other with an eighteen months old child in her arms. Esther did not dare
+leave her mother, and to protect her she gave up school, and this was why
+she had never learnt how to read.
+
+One of the many causes of quarrel between Mrs. Saunders and her husband
+was her attendance at prayer-meetings when he said she should be at home
+minding her children. He used to accuse her of carrying on with the
+Scripture-readers, and to punish her he would say, "This week I'll spend
+five bob more in the public--that'll teach you, if beating won't, that I
+don't want none of your hypocritical folk hanging round my place." So it
+befell the Saunders family to have little to eat; and Esther often
+wondered how she should get a bit of dinner for her sick mother and her
+hungry little brothers and sisters. Once they passed nearly thirty hours
+without food. She called them round her, and knelt down amid them: they
+prayed that God might help them; and their prayers were answered, for at
+half-past twelve a Scripture lady came in with flowers in her hands. She
+asked Mrs. Saunders how her appetite was. Mrs. Saunders answered that it
+was more than she could afford, for there was nothing to eat in the house.
+Then the Scripture lady gave them eighteen pence, and they all knelt down
+and thanked God together.
+
+But although Saunders spent a great deal of his money in the public-house,
+he rarely got drunk and always kept his employment. He was a painter of
+engines, a first-rate hand, earning good money, from twenty-five to thirty
+shillings a week. He was a proud man, but so avaricious that he stopped at
+nothing to get money. He was an ardent politician, yet he would sell his
+vote to the highest bidder, and when Esther was seventeen he compelled her
+to take service regardless of the character of the people or of what the
+place was like. They had left Barnstaple many months, and were now living
+in a little street off the Vauxhall Bridge Road, near the factory where
+Saunders worked; and since they had been in London Esther had been
+constantly in service. Why should he keep her? She wasn't one of his
+children, he had quite enough of his own. Sometimes of an evening, when
+Esther could escape from her drudgery for a few minutes, her mother would
+step round, and mother and daughter, wrapped in the same shawl, would walk
+to and fro telling each other their troubles, just as in old times. But
+these moments were few. In grimy lodging-houses she worked from early
+morning till late at night, scrubbing grates, preparing bacon and eggs,
+cooking chops, and making beds. She had become one of those London girls
+to whom rest, not to say pleasure, is unknown, who if they should sit down
+for a few moments hear the mistress's voice, "Now, Eliza, have you nothing
+to do, that you are sitting there idle?" Two of her mistresses, one after
+the other, had been sold up, and now all the rooms in the neighbourhood
+were unlet, no one wanted a "slavey," and Esther was obliged to return
+home. It was on the last of these occasions that her father had taken her
+by the shoulders, saying----
+
+"No lodging-houses that want a slavey? I'll see about that. Tell me,
+first, have you been to 78?"
+
+"Yes, but another girl was before me, and the place was taken when I
+arrived."
+
+"I wonder what you were doing that you didn't get there sooner; dangling
+about after your mother, I suppose! Well, what about 27 in the Crescent?"
+
+"I couldn't go there--that Mrs. Dunbar is a bad woman."
+
+"Bad woman! Who are you, I should like to know, that you can take a lady's
+character away? Who told you she was a bad woman? One of the
+Scripture-readers, I suppose! I knew it was. Well, then, just get out of
+my house."
+
+"Where shall I go?"
+
+"Go to hell for all I care. Do you hear me? Get out!"
+
+Esther did not move--words, and then blows. Esther's escape from her
+stepfather seemed a miracle, and his anger was only appeased by Mrs.
+Saunders promising that Esther should accept the situation.
+
+"Only for a little while. Perhaps Mrs. Dunbar is a better woman than you
+think for. For my sake, dearie. If you don't he may kill you and me too."
+
+Esther looked at her one moment, then she said, "Very well, mother,
+to-morrow I'll take the place."
+
+No longer was the girl starved, no longer was she made to drudge till the
+thought of another day was a despair and a terror. And seeing that she was
+a good girl, Mrs. Dunbar respected her scruples. Indeed, she was very
+kind, and Esther soon learnt to like her, and, through her affection for
+her, to think less of the life she led. A dangerous point is this in a
+young girl's life. Esther was young, and pretty, and weary, and out of
+health; and it was at this critical moment that Lady Elwin, who, while
+visiting, had heard her story, promised Mrs. Saunders to find Esther
+another place. And to obviate all difficulties about references and
+character, Lady Elwin proposed to take Esther as her own servant for a
+sufficient while to justify her in recommending her.
+
+And now, as she turned over her books--the books she could not read--her
+pure and passionate mind was filled with the story of her life. She
+remembered her poor little brothers and sisters and her dear mother, and
+that tyrant revenging himself upon them because of the little she might
+eat and drink. No, she must bear with all insults and scorn, and forget
+that they thought her as dirt under their feet. But what were such
+sufferings compared to those she would endure were she to return home? In
+truth they were as nothing. And yet the girl longed to leave Woodview. She
+had never been out of sight of home before. Amid the violences of her
+stepfather there had always been her mother and the meeting-house. In
+Woodview there was nothing, only Margaret, who had come to console and
+persuade her to come downstairs. The resolution she had to call out of her
+soul to do this exhausted her, and she went downstairs heedless of what
+anyone might say.
+
+Two and three days passed without anything occurring that might suggest
+that the Fates were for or against her remaining. Mrs. Barfield continued
+to be indisposed, but at the end of the week Esther, while she was at work
+in the scullery, heard a new voice speaking with Mrs. Latch. This must be
+Mrs. Barfield. She heard Mrs. Latch tell the story of her refusal to go to
+work the evening she arrived. But Mrs. Barfield told her that she would
+listen to no further complaints; this was the third kitchen-maid in four
+months, and Mrs. Latch must make up her mind to bear with the faults and
+failings of this last one, whatever they were. Then Mrs. Barfield called
+Esther; and when she entered the kitchen she found herself face to face
+with a little red-haired woman, with a pretty, pointed face.
+
+"I hear, Waters--that is your name, I think--that you refused to obey
+cook, and walked out of the kitchen the night you arrived."
+
+"I said, ma'am, that I would wait till my box came up from the station, so
+that I might change my dress. Mrs. Latch said my dress didn't matter, but
+when one is poor and hasn't many dresses----"
+
+"Are you short of clothes, then?"
+
+"I have not many, ma'am, and the dress I had on the day I came----"
+
+"Never mind about that. Tell me, are you short of clothes?--for if you are
+I daresay my daughter might find you something--you are about the same
+height--with a little alteration----"
+
+"Oh, ma'am, you are too good. I shall be most grateful. But I think I
+shall be able to manage till my first quarter's wages come to me."
+
+And the scowl upon Mrs. Latch's long face did not kill the pleasure which
+the little interview with that kind, sweet woman, Mrs. Barfield, had
+created in her. She moved about her work, happy at heart, singing to
+herself as she washed the vegetables. Even Mrs. Latch's harshness didn't
+trouble her much. She felt it to be a manner under which there might be a
+kind heart, and she hoped by her willingness to work to gain at least the
+cook's toleration. Margaret suggested that Esther should give up her beer.
+A solid pint extra a day could not fail, she said, to win the old woman's
+gratitude, and perhaps induce her to teach Esther how to make pastry and
+jellies.
+
+True that Margaret joined in the common laugh and jeer that the knowledge
+that Esther said her prayers morning and evening inspired. She sometimes
+united with Grover and Sarah in perplexing Esther with questions regarding
+her previous situations, but her hostilities were, on the whole, gentle,
+and Esther felt that this almost neutral position was the best that
+Margaret could have adopted. She defended her without seeming to do so,
+and seemed genuinely fond of her, helping her sometimes even with her
+work, which Mrs. Latch made as heavy as possible. But Esther was now
+determined to put up with every task they might impose upon her; she would
+give them no excuse for sending her away; she would remain at Woodview
+until she had learned sufficient cooking to enable her to get another
+place. But Mrs. Latch had the power to thwart her in this. Before
+beginning on her jellies and gravies Mrs. Latch was sure to find some
+saucepans that had not been sufficiently cleaned with white sand, and, if
+her search proved abortive, she would send Esther upstairs to scrub out
+her bedroom.
+
+"I cannot think why she is so down upon me," Esther often said to
+Margaret.
+
+"She isn't more down upon you than she was on the others. You needn't
+expect to learn any cooking from her; her plan has always been to take
+care that she shall not be supplanted by any of her kitchen-maids. But I
+don't see why she should be always sending you upstairs to clean out her
+bedroom. If Grover wasn't so stand-offish, we might tell her about it, and
+she could tell the Saint--that's what we call the missis; the Saint would
+soon put a stop to all that nonsense. I will say that for the Saint, she
+do like everyone to have fair play."
+
+Mrs. Barfield, or the Saint, as she was called, belonged, like Esther, to
+the sect known as the Plymouth Brethren. She was the daughter of one of
+the farmers on the estate--a very old man called Elliot. He had spent his
+life on his barren down farm, becoming intimate with no one, driving hard
+bargains with all, especially the squire and the poor flint-pickers. He
+could be seen still on the hill-sides, his long black coat buttoned
+strictly about him, his soft felt hat crushed over the thin, grey face.
+Pretty Fanny Elliot had won the squire's heart as he rode across the down.
+Do you not see the shy figure of the Puritan maiden tripping through the
+gorse, hastening the hoofs of the squire's cob? And, furnished with some
+pretext of estate business, he often rode to the farm that lay under the
+shaws at the end of the coombe. The squire had to promise to become one of
+the Brethren and he had to promise never to bet again, before Fanny Elliot
+agreed to become Mrs. Barfield. The ambitious members of the Barfield
+family declared that the marriage was social ruin, but more dispassionate
+critics called it a very suitable match; for it was not forgotten that
+three generations ago the Barfields were livery-stable keepers; they had
+risen in the late squire's time to the level of county families, and the
+envious were now saying that the Barfield family was sinking back whence
+it came.
+
+He was faithful to his promises for a time. Race-horses disappeared from
+the Woodview stables. It was not until after the birth of both his
+children that he entered one of his hunters in the hunt steeplechase. Soon
+after the racing stable was again in full swing at Woodview. Tears there
+were, and some family disunion, but time extorts concessions from all of
+us. Mrs. Barfield had ceased to quarrel with her husband on the subject of
+his racehorses, and he in his turn did not attempt to restrict her in the
+exercise of her religion. She attended prayer-meetings when her soul moved
+her, and read the Scriptures when and where she pleased.
+
+It was one of her practices to have the women-servants for half-an-hour
+every Sunday afternoon in the library, and instruct them in the life of
+Christ. Mrs. Barfield's goodness was even as a light upon her little oval
+face--reddish hair growing thin at the parting and smoothed back above the
+ears, as in an old engraving. Although nearly fifty, her figure was slight
+as a young girl's. Esther was attracted by the magnetism of racial and
+religious affinities; and when their eyes met at prayers there was
+acknowledgment of religious kinship. A glow of happiness filled Esther's
+soul, for she knew she was no longer wholly among strangers; she knew they
+were united--she and her mistress--under the sweet dominion of Christ. To
+look at Mrs. Barfield filled her, somehow, with recollections of her pious
+childhood; she saw herself in the old shop, moving again in an atmosphere
+of prayer, listening to the beautiful story, in the annunciation of which
+her life had grown up. She answered her mistress's questions in sweet
+light-heartedness of spirit, pleasing her with her knowledge of the Holy
+Book. But in turn the servants had begun to read verses aloud from the New
+Testament, and Esther saw that her secret would be torn from her. Sarah
+had read a verse, and Mrs. Barfield had explained it, and now Margaret was
+reading. Esther listened, thinking if she might plead illness and escape
+from the room; but she could not summon sufficient presence of mind, and
+while she was still agitated and debating with herself, Mrs. Barfield
+called to her to continue. She hung down her head, suffocated with the
+shame of the exposure, and when Mrs. Barfield told her again to continue
+the reading Esther shook her head.
+
+"Can you not read, Esther?" she heard a kind voice saying; and the sound
+of this voice loosed the feelings long pent up, and the girl, giving way
+utterly, burst into passionate weeping. She was alone with her suffering,
+conscious of nothing else, until a kind hand led her from the room, and
+this hand soothed away the bitterness of the tittering which reached her
+ears as the door closed. It was hard to persuade her to speak, but even
+the first words showed that there was more on the girl's heart than could
+be told in a few minutes. Mrs. Barfield determined to take the matter at
+once in hand; she dismissed the other servants and returned to the library
+with Esther, and in that dim room of little green sofas, bookless shelves,
+and bird-cages, the women--mistress and maid--sealed the bond of a
+friendship which was to last for life.
+
+Esther told her mistress everything--the work that Mrs. Latch required of
+her, the persecution she received from the other servants, principally
+because of her religion. In the course of the narrative allusion was made
+to the race-horses, and Esther saw on Mrs. Barfield's face a look of
+grief, and it was clear to what cause Mrs. Barfield attributed the
+demoralisation of her household.
+
+"I will teach you how to read, Esther. Every Sunday after our Bible
+instruction you shall remain when the others have left for half-an-hour.
+It is not difficult; you will soon learn."
+
+Henceforth, every Sunday afternoon, Mrs. Barfield devoted half-an-hour to
+the instruction of her kitchen-maid. These half-hours were bright spots of
+happiness in the serving-girl's weeks of work--happiness that had been and
+would be again. But although possessing a clear intelligence, Esther did
+not make much progress, nor did her diligence seem to help her. Mrs.
+Barfield was puzzled by her pupil's slowness; she ascribed it to her own
+inaptitude to teach and the little time for lessons. Esther's
+powerlessness to put syllables together, to grasp the meaning of words,
+was very marked. Strange it was, no doubt, but all that concerned the
+printed page seemed to embarrass and elude her.
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+
+Esther's position in Woodview was now assured, and her fellow-servants
+recognised the fact, though they liked her none the better for it. Mrs.
+Latch still did what she could to prevent her from learning her trade, but
+she no longer attempted to overburden her with work. Of Mr. Leopold she
+saw almost as little as she did of the people upstairs. He passed along
+the passages or remained shut up in his pantry. Ginger used to go there to
+smoke; and when the door stood ajar Esther saw his narrow person seated on
+the edge of the table, his leg swinging. Among the pantry people Mr.
+Leopold's erudition was a constant subject of admiration. His
+reminiscences of the races of thirty years ago were full of interest; he
+had seen the great horses whose names live in the stud-book, the horses
+the Gaffer had owned, had trained, had ridden, and he was full of anecdote
+concerning them and the Gaffer. Praise of his father's horsemanship always
+caused a cloud to gather on Ginger's face, and when he left the pantry
+Swindles chuckled. "Whenever I wants to get a rise out of Ginger I says,
+'Ah, we shall never see another gentleman jock who can use the whip at a
+finish like the Governor in his best days.'"
+
+Everyone delighted in the pantry, and to make Mr. Leopold comfortable Mr.
+Swindles used to bring in the wolf-skin rug that went out with the
+carriage, and wrap it round Mr. Leopold's wooden armchair, and the sallow
+little man would curl himself up, and, smoking his long clay, discuss the
+weights of the next big handicap. If Ginger contradicted him he would go
+to the press and extract from its obscurity a package of _Bell's Life_ or
+a file of the _Sportsman_.
+
+Mr. Leopold's press! For forty years no one had looked into that press.
+Mr. Leopold guarded it from every gaze, but it seemed to be a much-varied
+repository from which, if he chose, he could produce almost any trifle
+that might be required. It seemed to combine the usefulness of a hardware
+shop and a drug store.
+
+The pantry had its etiquette and its discipline. Jockey boys were rarely
+admitted, unless with the intention of securing their services for the
+cleaning of boots or knives. William was very proud of his right of entry.
+For that half-hour in the pantry he would willingly surrender the pleasure
+of walking in the drove-way with Sarah. But when Mrs. Latch learnt that he
+was there her face darkened, and the noise she then made about the range
+with her saucepans was alarming. Mrs. Barfield shared her cook's horror of
+the pantry, and often spoke of Mr. Leopold as "that little man." Although
+outwardly the family butler, he had never ceased to be the Gaffer's
+private servant; he represented the old days of bachelorhood. Mrs.
+Barfield and Mrs. Latch both disliked him. Had it not been for his
+influence Mrs. Barfield felt sure her husband would never have returned to
+his vice. Had it not been for Mr. Leopold Mrs. Latch felt that her husband
+would never have taken to betting. Legends and mystery had formed around
+Mr. Leopold and his pantry, and in Esther's unsophisticated mind this
+little room, with its tobacco smoke and glasses on the table, became a
+symbol of all that was wicked and dangerous; and when she passed the door
+she closed her ears to the loud talk and instinctively lowered her eyes.
+
+The simplest human sentiments were abiding principles in Esther--love of
+God, and love of God in the home. But above this Protestantism was human
+nature; and at this time Esther was, above all else, a young girl. Her
+twentieth year thrilled within her; she was no longer weary with work, and
+new, rich blood filled her veins. She sang at her work, gladdened by the
+sights and sounds of the yard; the young rooks cawing lustily in the
+evergreens, the gardener passing to and fro with plants in his hands, the
+white cats licking themselves in the sun or running to meet the young
+ladies who brought them plates of milk. Then the race-horses were always
+going to or coming from the downs. Sometimes they came in so covered with
+white mud that part of their toilette was accomplished in the yard; and
+from her kitchen window she could see the beautiful creature haltered to
+the hook fixed in the high wall, and the little boy in his shirtsleeves
+and hitched-up trousers, not a bit afraid, but shouting and quieting him
+into submission with the stick when he kicked and bit, tickled by the
+washing brush passing under the belly. Then the wrestling, sparring,
+ball-playing of the lads when their work was done, the pale, pathetic
+figure of the Demon watching them. He was about to start for Portslade and
+back, wrapped, as he would put it, in a red-hot scorcher of an overcoat.
+
+Esther often longed for a romp with these boys; she was now prime
+favourite with them. Once they caught her in the hay yard, and fine sport
+it was in the warm hay throwing each other over. Sometimes her wayward
+temper would get the better of her, but her momentary rage vanished at the
+sound of laughter. And after their tussling they would walk a little while
+pensively, until perhaps one, with an adroit trip, would send the other
+rolling over on the grass, and then, with wild cries, they would run down
+the drove-way. Then there was the day when the Wool-gatherer told her he
+was in love, and what fun they had had, and how well she had led him into
+belief that she was jealous! She had taken a rope as if she were going to
+hang herself, and having fastened it to a branch, she had knelt down as if
+she were saying her prayers. The poor Wool-gatherer could stand it no
+longer; he had rushed to her side, swearing that if she would promise not
+to hang herself he would never look at another girl again. The other boys,
+who had been crouching in the drove-way, rose up. How they did chaff the
+Wool-gatherer! He had burst into tears and Esther had felt sorry for him,
+and almost inclined to marry him out of pity for his forlorn condition.
+
+Her life grew happier and happier. She forgot that Mrs. Latch would not
+teach her how to make jellies, and had grown somewhat used to Sarah's
+allusions to her ignorance. She was still very poor, had not sufficient
+clothes, and her life was full of little troubles; but there were
+compensations. It was to her that Mrs. Barfield always came when she
+wanted anything in a hurry, and Miss Mary, too, seemed to prefer to apply
+to Esther when she wanted milk for her cats or bran and oats for her
+rabbits.
+
+The Gaffer and his race-horses, the Saint and her greenhouse--so went the
+stream of life at Woodview. What few visitors came were entertained by
+Miss Mary in the drawing-room or on the tennis lawn. Mrs. Barfield saw no
+one. She desired to remain in her old gown--an old thing that her daughter
+had discarded long ago--pinned up around her, and on her head an old
+bonnet with a faded poppy hanging from the crown. In such attire she
+wished to be allowed to trot about to and fro from her greenhouse to her
+potting-shed, watering, pruning, and syringing her plants. These plants
+were dearer than all things to her except her children; she seemed,
+indeed, to treat them as if they were children, and with the sun pouring
+through the glass down on her back she would sit freeing them from
+devouring insects all the day long. She would carry can after can of water
+up the long path and never complain of fatigue. She broke into complaint
+only when Miss Mary forgot to feed her pets, of which she had a great
+number--rabbits, and cats, and rooks, and all the work devolved upon her.
+She could not see these poor dumb creatures hungry, and would trudge to
+the stables, coming back laden with trusses of hay. But it was sometimes
+more than a pair of hands could do, and she would send Esther with scraps
+of meat and bread and milk to the unfortunate rooks that Mary had so
+unmercifully forgotten. "I'll have no more pets," she'd say, "Miss Mary
+won't look after them, and all the trouble falls upon me. See these poor
+cats, how they come mewing round my skirts." She loved to expatiate on her
+inexhaustible affection for dumb animals, and she continued an anecdotal
+discourse till, suddenly wearying of it, she would break off and speak to
+Esther about Barnstaple and the Brethren.
+
+The Saint loved to hear Esther tell of her father and the little shop in
+Barnstaple, of the prayer-meetings and the simple earnestness and
+narrowness of the faith of those good Brethren. Circumstances had effaced,
+though they had not obliterated, the once sharply-marked confines of her
+religious habits. Her religion was like a garden--a little less sedulously
+tended than of yore, but no whit less fondly loved; and while listening to
+Esther's story she dreamed her own early life over again, and paused,
+laying down her watering-can, penetrated with the happiness of gentle
+memories. So Esther's life grew and was fashioned; so amid the ceaseless
+round of simple daily occupations mistress and maid learned to know and to
+love one another, and became united and strengthful in the tender and
+ineffable sympathies of race and religion.
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+
+The summer drowsed, baking the turf on the hills, and after every gallop
+the Gaffer passed his fingers along the fine legs of the crack, in fear
+and apprehension lest he should detect any swelling. William came every
+day for news. He had five shillings on; he stood to win five pounds
+ten--quite a little fortune--and he often stopped to ask Esther if there
+was any news as he made his way to the pantry. She told him that so far as
+she knew Silver Braid was all right, and continued shaking the rug.
+
+"You'll never get the dust out of that rug," he said at last, "here, give
+it to me." She hesitated, then gave it him, and he beat it against the
+brick wall. "There," he said, handing it back to her, "that's how I beats
+a mat; you won't find much dust in it now."
+
+"Thank you.... Sarah went by an hour and a half ago."
+
+"Ah, she must have gone to the Gardens. You have never been to those
+gardens, have you? Dancing-hall, theatre, sorcerers--every blessed thing.
+But you're that religious, I suppose you wouldn't come?"
+
+"It is only the way you are brought up."
+
+"Well, will you come?"
+
+"I don't think I should like those Gardens.... But I daresay they are no
+worse than any other place. I've heard so much since I was here, that
+really----"
+
+"That really what?"
+
+"That sometimes it seems useless like to be particular."
+
+"Of course--all rot. Well, will you come next Sunday?"
+
+"Certainly not on Sunday."
+
+The Gaffer had engaged him as footman: his livery would be ready by
+Saturday, and he would enter service on Monday week. This reminded them
+that henceforth they would see each other every day, and, speaking of the
+pain it would give his mother when he came running downstairs to go out
+with the carriage, he said--
+
+"It was always her idea that I shouldn't be a servant, but I believe in
+doing what you gets most coin for doing. I should like to have been a
+jockey, and I could have ridden well enough--the Gaffer thought better at
+one time of my riding than he did of Ginger's. But I never had any luck;
+when I was about fifteen I began to grow.... If I could have remained like
+the Demon----"
+
+Esther looked at him, wondering if he were speaking seriously, and really
+wished away his splendid height and shoulders.
+
+A few days later he tried to persuade her to take a ticket in a shilling
+sweepstakes which he was getting up among the out and the indoor servants.
+She pleaded poverty--her wages would not be due till the end of August.
+But William offered to lend her the money, and he pressed the hat
+containing the bits of paper on which were written the horses' names so
+insinuatingly upon her that a sudden impulse to oblige him came over her,
+and before she had time to think she had put her hand in the hat and taken
+a number.
+
+"Come, none of your betting and gambling in my kitchen," said Mrs. Latch,
+turning from her work. "Why can't you leave that innocent girl alone?"
+
+"Don't be that disagreeable, mother; it ain't betting, it's a
+sweepstakes."
+
+"It is all the same," muttered Mrs. Latch; "it always begins that way, and
+it goes on from bad to worse. I never saw any good come from it, and
+Heaven knows I've seen enough misfortune."
+
+Margaret and Sarah paused, looking at her open-mouthed, a little
+perplexed, holding the numbers they had drawn in both hands. Esther had
+not unfolded hers. She looked at Mrs. Latch and regretted having taken the
+ticket in the lottery. She feared jeers from Sarah, or from Grover, who
+had just come in, for her inability to read the name of the horse she had
+drawn. Seeing her dilemma, William took her paper from her.
+
+"Silver Braid.... by Jingo! She has got the right one."
+
+At that moment the sound of hoofs was heard in the yard, and the servants
+flew to the window.
+
+"He'll win," cried William, leaning over the women's backs, waving his
+bony hand to the Demon, who rode past on Silver Braid. "The Gaffer will
+bring him to the post as fit as a fiddle."
+
+"I think he will," said Mr. Leopold. "The rain has done us a lot of good;
+he was beginning to go a bit short a week ago. We shall want some more
+rain. I should like to see it come down for the next week or more."
+
+Mr. Leopold's desires looked as if they were going to be fulfilled. The
+heavens seemed to have taken the fortunes of the stable in hand. Rain fell
+generally in the afternoon and night, leaving the mornings fine, and
+Silver Braid went the mile gaily, becoming harder and stronger. And in the
+intermittent swish of showers blown up from the sea Woodview grew joyous,
+and a conviction of ultimate triumph gathered and settled on every face
+except Mrs. Barfield's and Mrs. Latch's. And askance they looked at the
+triumphant little butler. He became more and more the topic of
+conversation. He seemed to hold the thread of their destiny in his press.
+Peggy was especially afraid of him.
+
+And, continuing her confidences to the under-housemaid, the young lady
+said, "I like to know things for the pleasure of talking about them, but
+he for the pleasure of holding his tongue." Peggy was Miss Margaret
+Barfield, a cousin, the daughter of a rich brewer. "If he brings in your
+letters in the morning he hands them to you just as if he knew whom they
+are from. Ugly little beast; it irritates me when he comes into the room."
+
+"He hates women, Miss; he never lets us near his pantry, and he keeps
+William there talking racing."
+
+"Ah, William is very different. He ought never to have been a servant. His
+family was once quite as good as the Barfields."
+
+"So I have heard, Miss. But the world is that full of ups and downs you
+never can tell who is who. But we all likes William and 'ates that little
+man and his pantry. Mrs. Latch calls him the 'evil genius.'"
+
+A furtive and clandestine little man, ashamed of his women-folk and
+keeping them out of sight as much as possible. His wife a pale, dim woman,
+tall as he was short, preserving still some of the graces of the
+lady's-maid, shy either by nature or by the severe rule of her lord,
+always anxious to obliterate herself against the hedges when you met her
+in the lane or against the pantry door when any of the family knocked to
+ask for hot water, or came with a letter for the post. By nature a
+bachelor, he was instinctively ashamed of his family, and when the
+weary-looking wife, the thin, shy girl, or the corpulent, stupid-faced son
+were with him and he heard steps outside, he would come out like a little
+wasp, and, unmistakably resenting the intrusion, would ask what was
+wanted.
+
+If it were Ginger, Mr. Leopold would say, "Can I do anything for you, Mr.
+Arthur?"
+
+"Oh, nothing, thank you; I only thought that----" and Ginger would invent
+some paltry excuse and slink away to smoke elsewhere.
+
+Every day, a little before twelve, Mr. Leopold went out for his morning
+walk; every day if it were fine you would meet him at that hour in the
+lane either coming from or going to Shoreham. For thirty years he had done
+his little constitutional, always taking the same road, always starting
+within a few minutes of twelve, always returning in time to lay the cloth
+for lunch at half-past one. The hour between twelve and one he spent in
+the little cottage which he rented from the squire for his wife and
+children, or in the "Red Lion," where he had a glass of beer and talked
+with Watkins, the bookmaker.
+
+"There he goes, off to the 'Red Lion,'" said Mrs. Latch. "They try to get
+some information out of him, but he's too sharp for them, and he knows it;
+that's what he goes there for--just for the pleasure of seeing them
+swallow the lies he tells them.... He has been telling them lies about the
+horses for the last twenty years, and still he get them to believe what he
+says. It is a cruel shame! It was the lies he told poor Jackson about Blue
+Beard that made the poor man back the horse for all he was worth."
+
+"And the horse didn't win?"
+
+"Win! The master didn't even intend to run him, and Jackson lost all he
+had, and more. He went down to the river and drowned himself. John Randal
+has that man's death on his conscience. But his conscience don't trouble
+him much; if it did he'd be in his grave long ago. Lies, lies, nothing but
+lies! But I daresay I'm too 'ard on him; isn't lies our natural lot? What
+is servants for but to lie when it is in their master's interest, and to
+be a confidential servant is to be the Prince of liars!"
+
+"Perhaps he didn't know the 'orse was scratched."
+
+"I see you are falling in nicely with the lingo of the trade."
+
+"Oh," replied Esther, laughing; "one never hears anything else; one picks
+it up without knowing. Mr. Leopold is very rich, so they say. The boys
+tell me that he won a pile over the City and Suburban, and has thousands
+in the bank."
+
+"So some says; but who knows what he has? One hears of the winnings, but
+they say very little about the losings."
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+
+The boys were playing ball in the stables, but she did not feel as if she
+wanted to romp with them. There was a stillness and a sweetness abroad
+which penetrated and absorbed her. She moved towards the paddock gate; the
+pony and the donkey came towards her, and she rubbed their muzzles in
+turn. It was a pleasure to touch anything, especially anything alive. She
+even noticed that the elm trees were strangely tall and still against the
+calm sky, and the rich odour of some carnations which came through the
+bushes from the pleasure-ground excited her; the scent of earth and leaves
+tingled in her, and the cawing of the rooks coming home took her soul away
+skyward in an exquisite longing; she was, at the same time, full of
+romantic love for the earth, and of a desire to mix herself with the
+innermost essence of things. The beauty of the evening and the sea breeze
+instilled a sensation of immortal health, and she wondered if a young man
+came to her as young men came to the great ladies in Sarah's books, how it
+would be to talk in the dusk, seeing the bats flitting and the moon rising
+through the branches.
+
+The family was absent from Woodview, and she was free to enjoy the beauty
+of every twilight and every rising moon for still another week. But she
+wearied for a companion. Sarah and Grover were far too grand to walk out
+with her; and Margaret had a young man who came to fetch her, and in their
+room at night she related all he had said. But for Esther there was
+nothing to do all the long summer evenings but to sit at the kitchen
+window sewing. Her hands fell on her lap, and her heart heaved a sigh of
+weariness. In all this world there was nothing for her to do but to
+continue her sewing or to go for a walk on the hill. She was tired of that
+weary hill! But she could not sit in the kitchen till bedtime. She might
+meet the old shepherd coming home with his sheep, and she put a piece of
+bread in her pocket for his dogs and strolled up the hill-side. Margaret
+had gone down to the Gardens. One of these days a young man would come to
+take her out. What would he be like? She laughed the thought away. She did
+not think that any young man would bother much about her. Happening at
+that moment to look round, she saw a man coming through the hunting gate.
+His height and shoulders told her that he was William. "Trying to find
+Sarah," she thought. "I must not let him think I am waiting for him." She
+continued her walk, wondering if he were following, afraid to look round.
+At last she fancied she could hear footsteps; her heart beat faster. He
+called to her.
+
+"I think Sarah has gone to the Gardens," she said, turning round.
+
+"You always keep reminding me of Sarah. There's nothing between us;
+anything there ever was is all off long ago.... Are you going for a walk?"
+
+She was glad of the chance to get a mouthful of fresh air, and they went
+towards the hunting gate. William held it open and she passed through.
+
+The plantations were enclosed by a wooden fence, and beyond them the bare
+downs rose hill after hill. On the left the land sloped into a shallow
+valley sown with various crops; and the shaws about Elliot's farm were the
+last trees. Beyond the farmhouse the downs ascended higher and higher,
+treeless, irreclaimable, scooped into long patriarchal solitudes, thrown
+into wild crests.
+
+There was a smell of sheep in the air, and the flock trotted past them in
+good order, followed by the shepherd, a huge hat and a crook in his hand,
+and two shaggy dogs at his heels. A brace of partridges rose out of the
+sainfoin, and flew down the hills; and watching their curving flight
+Esther and William saw the sea under the sun-setting, and the string of
+coast towns.
+
+"A lovely evening, isn't it?"
+
+Esther acquiesced; and tempted by the warmth of the grass they sat down,
+and the mystery of the twilight found way into their consciousness.
+
+"We shan't have any rain yet awhile."
+
+"How do you know?"
+
+"I'll tell you," William answered, eager to show his superior knowledge.
+"Look due south-west, straight through that last dip in that line of
+hills. Do you see anything?"
+
+"No, I can see nothing," said Esther, after straining her eyes for a few
+moments.
+
+"I thought not.... Well, if it was going to rain you would see the Isle of
+Wight."
+
+For something to say, and hoping to please, Esther asked him where the
+race-course was.
+
+"There, over yonder. I can't show you the start, a long way behind that
+hill, Portslade way; then they come right along by that gorse and finish
+up by Truly barn--you can't see Truly barn from here, that's Thunder's
+barrow barn; they go quite half a mile farther."
+
+"And does all that land belong to the Gaffer?"
+
+"Yes, and a great deal more, too; but this down land isn't worth much--not
+more than about ten shillings an acre."
+
+"And how many acres are there?"
+
+"Do you mean all that we can see?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"The Gaffer's property reaches to Southwick Hill, and it goes north a long
+way. I suppose you don't know that all this piece, all that lies between
+us and that barn yonder, once belonged to my family."
+
+"To your family?"
+
+"Yes, the Latches were once big swells; in the time of my
+great-grandfather the Barfields could not hold their heads as high as the
+Latches. My great-grandfather had a pot of money, but it all went."
+
+"Racing?"
+
+"A good bit, I've no doubt. A rare 'ard liver, cock-fighting, 'unting,
+'orse-racing from one year's end to the other. Then after 'im came my
+grandfather; he went to the law, and a sad mess he made of it--went
+stony-broke and left my father without a sixpence; that is why mother
+didn't want me to go into livery. The family 'ad been coming down for
+generations, and mother thought that I was born to restore it; and so I
+was, but not as she thought, by carrying parcels up and down the King's
+Road."
+
+Esther looked at William in silent admiration, and, feeling that he had
+secured an appreciative listener, he continued his monologue regarding the
+wealth and rank his family had formerly held, till a heavy dew forced them
+to their feet. In front of them was the moon, and out of the forlorn sky
+looked down the misted valleys; the crests of the hills were still touched
+with light, and lights flew from coast town to coast town, weaving a
+luminous garland.
+
+The sheep had been folded, and seeing them lying in the greyness of this
+hill-side, and beyond them the massive moonlit landscape and the vague
+sea, Esther suddenly became aware, as she had never done before, of the
+exceeding beauty of the world. Looking up in William's face, she said--
+
+"Oh, how beautiful!"
+
+As they descended the drove-way their feet raised the chalk, and William
+said--
+
+"This is bad for Silver Braid; we shall want some more rain in a day or
+two.... Let's come for a walk round the farm," he said suddenly. "The farm
+belongs to the Gaffer, but he's let the Lodge to a young fellow called
+Johnson. He's the chap that Peggy used to go after--there was awful rows
+about that, and worse when he forestalled the Gaffer about Egmont."
+
+The conversation wandered agreeably, and they became more conscious of
+each other. He told her all he knew about the chap who had jilted Miss
+Mary, and the various burlesque actresses at the Shoreham Gardens who had
+captivated Ginger's susceptible heart. While listening she suddenly became
+aware that she had never been so happy before. Now all she had endured
+seemed accidental; she felt that she had entered into the permanent; and
+in the midst of vague but intense sensations William showed her the
+pigeon-house with all the blue birds dozing on the tiles, a white one here
+and there. They visited the workshop, the forge, and the old cottages
+where the bailiff and the shepherd lived; and all this inanimate
+nature--the most insignificant objects--seemed inspired, seemed like
+symbols of her emotion.
+
+They left the farm and wandered on the high road until a stile leading to
+a cornfield beguiled and then delayed their steps.
+
+The silence of the moonlight was clear and immense; and they listened to
+the trilling of the nightingale in the copse hard by. First they sought to
+discover the brown bird in the branches of the poor hedge, and then the
+reason of the extraordinary emotion in their hearts. It seemed that all
+life was beating in that moment, and they were as it were inflamed to
+reach out their hands to life and to grasp it together. Even William
+noticed that. And the moon shone on the mist that had gathered on the long
+marsh lands of the foreshore. Beyond the trees the land wavered out into
+down land, the river gleamed and intensely.
+
+This moment was all the poetry of their lives. The striking of a match to
+light his pipe, which had gone out, put the music to flight, and all along
+the white road he continued his monologue, interrupted only by the
+necessity of puffing at his pipe.
+
+"Mother says that if I had twopence worth of pride in me I wouldn't have
+consented to put on the livery; but what I says to mother is, 'What's the
+use of having pride if you haven't money?' I tells her that I am rotten
+with pride, but my pride is to make money. I can't see that the man what
+is willing to remain poor all his life has any pride at all.... But, Lord!
+I have argued with mother till I'm sick; she can see nothing further than
+the livery; that's what women are--they are that short-sighted.... A lot
+of good it would have done me to have carried parcels all my life, and
+when I could do four mile an hour no more, to be turned out to die in the
+ditch and be buried by the parish. 'Not good enough,' says I. 'If that's
+your pride, mother, you may put it in your pipe and smoke it, and as you
+'aven't got a pipe, perhaps behind the oven will do as well,'--that's what
+I said to her. I saw well enough there was nothing for me but service, and
+I means to stop here until I can get on three or four good things and then
+retire into a nice comfortable public-house and do my own betting."
+
+"You would give up betting then?"
+
+"I'd give up backing 'orses, if you mean that.... What I should like would
+be to get on to a dozen good things at long prices--half-a-dozen like
+Silver Braid would do it. For a thousand or fifteen hundred pounds I could
+have the 'Red Lion,' and just inside my own bar I could do a hundred-pound
+book on all the big races."
+
+Esther listened, hearing interminable references to jockeys, publicans,
+weights, odds, and the certainty, if he had the "Red Lion," of being able
+to get all Joe Walker's betting business away from him. Allusions to the
+police, and the care that must be taken not to bet with anyone who had not
+been properly introduced, frightened her; but her fears died in the
+sensation of his arm about her waist, and the music that the striking of a
+match had put to flight had begun again in the next plantation, and it
+began again in their hearts. But if he were going to marry Sarah! The idea
+amused him; he laughed loudly, and they walked up the avenue, his face
+bent over hers.
+
+
+
+
+VII
+
+
+The Barfield calculation was that they had a stone in hand. Bayleaf, Mr.
+Leopold argued, would be backed to win a million of money if he were
+handicapped in the race at seven stone; and Silver Braid, who had been
+tried again with Bayleaf, and with the same result as before, had been let
+off with only six stone.
+
+More rain had fallen, the hay-crop had been irretrievably ruined, the
+prospects of the wheat harvest were jeopardized, but what did a few
+bushels of wheat matter? Another pound of muscle in those superb
+hind-quarters was worth all the corn that could be grown between here and
+Henfield. Let the rain come down, let every ear of wheat be destroyed, so
+long as those delicate fore-legs remained sound. These were the ethics
+that obtained at Woodview, and within the last few days showed signs of
+adoption by the little town and not a few of the farmers, grown tired of
+seeing their crops rotting on the hill-sides. The fever of the gamble was
+in eruption, breaking out in unexpected places--the station-master, the
+porters, the flymen, all had their bit on, and notwithstanding the
+enormous favouritism of two other horses in the race--Prisoner and Stoke
+Newington--Silver Braid had advanced considerably in the betting. Reports
+of trials won had reached Brighton, and not more than five-and-twenty to
+one could now be obtained.
+
+The discovery that the Demon had gone up several pounds in weight had
+introduced the necessary alloy into the mintage of their happiness; the
+most real consternation prevailed, and the strictest investigation was
+made as to when and how he had obtained the quantities of food required to
+produce such a mass of adipose tissue. Then the Gaffer had the boy
+upstairs and administered to him a huge dose of salts, seeing him swallow
+every drop; and when the effects of the medicine had worn off he was sent
+for a walk to Portslade in two large overcoats, and was accompanied by
+William, whose long legs led the way so effectively. On his return a
+couple of nice feather beds were ready, and Mr. Leopold and Mr. Swindles
+themselves laid him between them, and when they noticed that he was
+beginning to cease to perspire Mr. Leopold made him a nice cup of hot tea.
+
+"That's the way the Gaffer used to get the flesh off in the old days when
+he rode the winner at Liverpool."
+
+"It's the Demon's own fault," said Mr. Swindles; "if he hadn't been so
+greedy he wouldn't have had to sweat, and we should 'ave been spared a
+deal of bother and anxiety."
+
+"Greedy!" murmured the little boy, in whom the warm tea had induced a new
+perspiration; "I haven't had what you might call a dinner for the last
+three months. I think I'll chuck the whole thing."
+
+"Not until this race is over," said Mr. Swindles. "Supposing I was to pass
+the warming-pan down these 'ere sheets. What do you say, Mr. Leopold? They
+are beginning to feel a bit cold."
+
+"Cold! I 'ope you'll never go to a 'otter place. For God's sake, Mr.
+Leopold, don't let him come near me with the warming-pan, or else he'll
+melt the little flesh that's left off me."
+
+"You 'ad better not make such a fuss," said Mr. Leopold; "if you don't do
+what you are told, you'll have to take salts again and go for another walk
+with William."
+
+"If we don't warm up them sheets 'e'll dry up," said Mr. Swindles.
+
+"No, I won't; I'm teeming."
+
+"Be a good boy, and you shall have a nice cut of mutton when you get up,"
+said Mr. Leopold.
+
+"How much? Two slices?"
+
+"Well, you see, we can't promise; it all depends on how much has come off,
+and 'aving once got it hoff, we don't want to put it on again."
+
+"I never did 'ear such rot," said Swindles. "In my time a boy's feelings
+weren't considered--one did what one considered good for them."
+
+Mr. Leopold strove to engage the Demon's attention with compliments
+regarding his horsemanship in the City and Sub. while Mr. Swindles raised
+the bedclothes.
+
+"Oh, Mr. Swindles, you are burning me."
+
+"For 'eaven's sake don't let him start out from under the bed like that!
+Can't yer 'old him? Burning you! I never even touched you with it; it was
+the sheet that you felt."
+
+"Then the sheet is at 'ot as the bloody fire. Will yer leave off?"
+
+"What! a Demon like you afraid of a little touch of 'eat; wouldn't 'ave
+believed it unless I 'ad 'eard it with my own ears," said Mr. Leopold.
+"Come, now, do yer want to ride the crack at Goodwood or do yer not? If
+you do, remain quiet, and let us finish taking off the last couple of
+pounds."
+
+"It is the last couple of pounds that takes it out of one; the first lot
+comes off jest like butter," said the boy, rolling out of the way of the
+pan. "I know what it will be; I shall be so weak that I shall just ride a
+stinking bad race."
+
+Mr. Leopold and Mr. Swindles exchanged glances. It was clear they thought
+that there was something in the last words of the fainting Demon, and the
+pan was withdrawn. But when the boy was got into the scale again it was
+found that he was not yet nearly the right weight, and the Gaffer ordered
+another effort to be made. The Demon pleaded that his feet were sore, but
+he was sent off to Portslade in charge of the redoubtable William.
+
+And as the last pounds came off the Demon's little carcass Mr. Leopold's
+face resumed a more tranquil expression. It began to be whispered that
+instead of hedging any part of his money he would stand it all out, and
+one day a market gardener brought up word that he had seen Mr. Leopold
+going into Brighton.
+
+"Old Watkins isn't good enough for him, that's about it. If Silver Braid
+wins, Woodview will see very little more of Mr. Leopold. He'll be for
+buying one of them big houses on the sea road and keeping his own trap."
+
+
+
+
+VIII
+
+
+The great day was now fast approaching, and the Gaffer had promised to
+drive his folk in a drag to Goodwood. No more rain was required, the
+colt's legs remained sound, and three days of sunshine would make all the
+difference in their sum of happiness. In the kitchen Mrs. Latch and Esther
+had been busy for some time with chickens and pies and jellies, and in the
+passage there were cases packed with fruit and wine. The dressmaker had
+come from Worthing, and for several days the young ladies had not left
+her. And one fine morning, very early--about eight o'clock--the wheelers
+were backed into the drag that had come from Brighton, and the yard
+resounded with the blaring of the horn. Ginger was practising under his
+sister's window.
+
+"You'll be late! You'll be late!"
+
+With the exception of two young gentlemen, who had come at the invitation
+of the young ladies, it was quite a family party. Miss Mary sat beside her
+father on the box, and looked very charming in white and blue. Peggy's
+black hair seemed blacker than ever under a white silk parasol, which she
+waved negligently above her as she stood up calling and talking to
+everyone until the Gaffer told her angrily to sit down, as he was going to
+start. Then William and the coachman let go the leaders' heads, and
+running side by side swung themselves into their seats. At the same moment
+a glimpse was caught of Mr. Leopold's sallow profile amid the boxes and
+the mackintoshes that filled the inside of the coach.
+
+"Oh, William did look that handsome in those beautiful new clothes!
+...Everyone said so--Sarah and Margaret and Miss Grover. I'm sorry you did
+not come out to see him."
+
+Mrs. Latch made no answer, and Esther remembered how she hated her son to
+wear livery, and thought that she had perhaps made a mistake in saying
+that Mrs. Latch should have come out to see him. "Perhaps this will make
+her dislike me again," thought the girl. Mrs. Latch moved about rapidly,
+and she opened and closed the oven; then, raising her eyes to the window
+and seeing that the other women were still standing in the yard and safely
+out of hearing, she said--
+
+"Do you think that he has bet much on this race?"
+
+"Oh, how should I know, Mrs. Latch?... But the horse is certain to win."
+
+"Certain to win! I have heard that tale before; they are always certain to
+win. So they have won you round to their way of thinking, have they?" said
+Mrs. Latch, straightening her back.
+
+"I know very well indeed that it is not right to bet; but what can I do, a
+poor girl like me? If it hadn't been for William I never would have taken
+a number in that sweepstakes."
+
+"Do you like him very much, then?"
+
+"He has been very kind to me--he was kind when--"
+
+"Yes, I know, when I was unkind. I was unkind to you when you first came.
+You don't know all. I was much troubled at that time, and somehow I did
+not--. But there is no ill-feeling?... I'll make it up to you--I'll teach
+you how to be a cook."
+
+"Oh, Mrs. Latch, I am sure----"
+
+"Never mind that. When you went out to walk with him the other night, did
+he tell you that he had many bets on the race?"
+
+"He talked about the race, like everyone else, but he did not tell me what
+bets he had on."
+
+"No, they never do do that.... But you'll not tell him that I asked you?"
+
+"No, Mrs. Latch, I promise."
+
+"It would do no good, he'd only be angry; it would only set him against
+me. I am afraid that nothing will stop him now. Once they get a taste for
+it it is like drink. I wish he was married, that might get him out of it.
+Some woman who would have an influence over him, some strong-minded woman.
+I thought once that you were strong-minded----"
+
+At that moment Sarah and Grover entered the kitchen talking loudly. They
+asked Mrs. Latch how soon they could have dinner--the sooner the better,
+for the Saint had told them that they were free to go out for the day.
+They were to try to be back before eight, that was all. Ah! the Saint was
+a first-rate sort. She had said that she did not want anyone to attend on
+her. She would, get herself a bit of lunch in the dining-room. Mrs. Latch
+allowed Esther to hurry on the dinner, and by one o'clock they had all
+finished. Sarah and Margaret were going into Brighton to do some shopping,
+Grover was going to Worthing to spend the afternoon with the wife of one
+of the guards of the Brighton and South Coast Railway. Mrs. Latch went
+upstairs to lie down. So it grew lonelier and lonelier in the kitchen.
+Esther's sewing fell out of her hands, and she wondered what she should
+do. She thought that she might go down to the beach, and soon after she
+put on her hat and stood thinking, remembering that she had not been by
+the sea, that she had not seen the sea since she was a little girl. But
+she remembered the tall ships that came into the harbour, sail falling
+over sail, and the tall ships that floated out of the harbour, sail rising
+over sail, catching the breeze as they went aloft--she remembered them.
+
+A suspension bridge, ornamented with straight-tailed lions, took her over
+the weedy river, and having crossed some pieces of rough grass, she
+climbed the shingle bank. The heat rippled the blue air, and the sea, like
+an exhausted caged beast, licked the shingle. Sea-poppies bloomed under
+the wheels of a decaying bathing-machine, and Esther wondered. But the sea
+here was lonely as a prison, and, seeing the treeless coast with its chain
+of towns, her thoughts suddenly reverted to William. She wished he were
+with her, and for pleasant contemplation she thought of that happy evening
+when she saw him coming through the hunting gate, when, his arm about her,
+William had explained that if the horse won she would take seven shillings
+out of the sweepstakes. She knew now that William did not care about
+Sarah; and that he cared for her had given a sudden and unexpected meaning
+to her existence. She lay on the shingle, her day-dream becoming softer
+and more delicate as it rounded into summer sleep.
+
+And when the light awoke her she saw flights of white clouds--white up
+above, rose-coloured as they approached the west; and when she turned, a
+tall, melancholy woman.
+
+"Good evening, Mrs. Randal," said Esther, glad to find someone to speak
+to. "I've been asleep."
+
+"Good evening, Miss. You're from Woodview, I think?"
+
+"Yes, I'm the kitchen-maid. They've gone to the races; there was nothing
+to do, so I came down here."
+
+Mrs. Randal's lips moved as if she were going to say something. But she
+did not speak. Soon after she rose to her feet. "I think that it must be
+getting near tea-time; I must be going. You might come in and have a cup
+of tea with me, if you're not in a hurry back to Woodview."
+
+Esther was surprised at so much condescension, and in silence the two
+women crossed the meadows that lay between the shingle bank and the river.
+Trains were passing all the while, scattering, it seemed, in their noisy
+passage over the spider-legged bridge, the news from Goodwood. The news
+seemed to be borne along shore in the dust, and, as if troubled by
+prescience of the news, Mrs. Randal said, as she unlocked the cottage
+door----
+
+"It is all over now. The people in those trains know well enough which has
+won."
+
+"Yes, I suppose they know, and somehow I feel as if I knew too. I feel as
+if Silver Braid had won."
+
+Mrs. Randal's home was gaunt as herself. Everything looked as if it had
+been scraped, and the spare furniture expressed a meagre, lonely life. She
+dropped a plate as she laid the table, and stood pathetically looking at
+the pieces. When Esther asked for a teaspoon she gave way utterly.
+
+"I haven't one to give you; I had forgotten that they were gone. I should
+have remembered and not asked you to tea."
+
+"It don't matter, Mrs. Randal; I can stir up my tea with anything--a
+knitting-needle will do very well--"
+
+"I should have remembered and not asked you back to tea; but I was so
+miserable, and it is so lonely sitting in this house, that I could stand
+it no longer.... Talking to you saved me from thinking, and I did not want
+to think until this race was over. If Silver Braid is beaten we are
+ruined. Indeed, I don't know what will become of us. For fifteen years I
+have borne up; I have lived on little at the best of times, and very often
+have gone without; but that is nothing compared to the anxiety--to see him
+come in with a white face, to see him drop into a chair and hear him say,
+'Beaten a head on the post,' or 'Broke down, otherwise he would have won
+in a canter.' I have always tried to be a good wife and tried to console
+him, and to do the best when he said, 'I have lost half a year's wages, I
+don't know how we shall pull through.' I have borne with ten thousand
+times more than I can tell you. The sufferings of a gambler's wife cannot
+be told. Tell me, what do you think my feelings must have been when one
+night I heard him calling me out of my sleep, when I heard him say, 'I
+can't die, Annie, without bidding you good-bye. I can only hope that you
+will be able to pull through, and I know that the Gaffer will do all he
+can for you, but he has been hit awful hard too. You mustn't think too
+badly of me, Annie, but I have had such a bad time that I couldn't put up
+with it any longer, and I thought the best thing I could do would be to
+go.' That's just how he talked--nice words to hear your husband speak in
+your ear through the darkness! There was no time to send for the doctor,
+so I jumped out of bed, put the kettle on, and made him drink glass after
+glass of salt and water. At last he brought up the laudanum."
+
+Esther listened to the melancholy woman, and remembered the little man
+whom she saw every day so orderly, so precise, so sedate, so methodical,
+so unemotional, into whose life she thought no faintest emotion had ever
+entered--and this was the truth.
+
+"So long as I only had myself to think of I didn't mind; but now there are
+the children growing up. He should think of them. Heaven only knows what
+will become of them... John is as kind a husband as ever was if it weren't
+for that one fault; but he cannot resist having something on any more than
+a drunkard can resist the bar-room."
+
+"Winner, winner, winner of the Stewards' Cup!"
+
+The women started to their feet. When they got into the street the boy was
+far away; besides, neither had a penny to pay for the paper, and they
+wandered about the town hearing and seeing nothing, so nervous were they.
+At last Esther proposed to ask at the "Red Lion" who had won. Mrs. Randal
+begged her to refrain, urging that she was unable to bear the tidings
+should it be evil.
+
+"Silver Braid," the barman answered. The girl rushed through the doors.
+"It is all right, it is all right; he has won!"
+
+Soon after the little children in the lane were calling forth "Silver
+Braid won!" And overcome by the excitement Esther walked along the
+sea-road to meet the drag. She walked on and on until the sound of the
+horn came through the crimson evening and she saw the leaders trotting in
+a cloud of dust. Ginger was driving, and he shouted to her, "He won!" The
+Gaffer waved the horn and shouted, "He won!" Peggy waved her broken
+parasol and shouted, "He won!" Esther looked at William. He leaned over
+the back seat and shouted, "He won!" She had forgotten all about late
+dinner. What would Mrs. Latch say? On such a day as this she would say
+nothing.
+
+
+
+
+IX
+
+
+Nearly everything came down untouched. Eating and drinking had been in
+progress almost all day on the course, and Esther had finished washing up
+before nine, and had laid the cloth in the servants' hall for supper. But
+if little was eaten upstairs, plenty was eaten downstairs; the mutton was
+finished in a trice, and Mrs. Latch had to fetch from the larder what
+remained of a beefsteak pudding. Even then they were not satisfied, and
+fine inroads were made into a new piece of cheese. Beer, according to
+orders, was served without limit, and four bottles of port were sent down
+so that the health of the horse might be adequately drunk.
+
+While assuaging their hunger the men had exchanged many allusive remarks
+regarding the Demon's bad ending, how nearly he had thrown the race away;
+and the meal being now over, and there being nothing to do but to sit and
+talk, Mr. Leopold, encouraged by William, entered on an elaborate and
+technical account of the race. The women listened, playing with a rind of
+cheese, glancing at the cheese itself, wondering if they could manage
+another slice, and the men sipping their port wine, puffing at their
+pipes, William listening most avidly of all, enjoying each sporting term,
+and ingeniously reminding Mr. Leopold of some detail whenever he seemed
+disposed to shorten his narrative. The criticism of the Demon's
+horsemanship took a long while, for by a variety of suggestive remarks
+William led Mr. Leopold into reminiscences of the skill of certain famous
+jockeys in the first half of the century. These digressions wearied Sarah
+and Grover, and their thoughts wandered to the dresses that had been worn
+that day, and the lady's-maid remembered she would hear all that
+interested her that night in the young ladies' rooms. At last, losing all
+patience, Sarah declared that she didn't care what Chifney had said when
+he just managed to squeeze his horse's head in front in the last dozen
+yards, she wanted to know what the Demon had done to so nearly lose the
+race--had he mistaken the winning-post and pulled up? William looked at
+her contemptuously, and would have answered rudely, but at that moment Mr.
+Leopold began to tell the last instructions that the Gaffer had given the
+Demon. The orders were that the Demon should go right up to the leaders
+before they reached the half-mile, and remain there. Of course, if he
+found that he was a stone or more in hand, as the Gaffer expected, he
+might come away pretty well as he liked, for the greatest danger was that
+the horse might get shut out or might show temper and turn it up.
+
+"Well," said Mr. Leopold, "there were two false starts, and Silver Braid
+must have galloped a couple of 'undred yards afore the Demon could stop
+him. There wasn't twopence-halfpenny worth of strength in him--pulling off
+those three or four pounds pretty well finished him. He'll never be able
+to ride that weight again.... He said afore starting that he felt weak;
+you took him along too smartly from Portslade the last time you went
+there."
+
+"When he went by himself he'd stop playing marbles with the boys round the
+Southwick public-house."
+
+"If there had been another false start I think it would have been all up
+with us. The Gaffer was quite pale, and he stood there not taking his
+glasses from his eyes. There were over thirty of them, so you can imagine
+how hard it was to get them into line. However, at the third attempt they
+were got straight and away they came, a black line stretching right across
+the course. Presently the black cap and jacket came to the front, and not
+very long after a murmur went round, 'Silver Braid wins.' Never saw
+anything like it in all my life. He was three lengths a'ead, and the
+others were pulling off. 'Damn the boy; he'll win by twenty lengths,' said
+the Gaffer, without removing his glasses. But when within a few yards of
+the stand----"
+
+At that moment the bell rang. Mr. Leopold said, "There, they are wanting
+their tea; I must go and get it."
+
+"Drat their tea," said Margaret; "they can wait. Finish up; tell us how he
+won."
+
+Mr. Leopold looked round, and seeing every eye fixed on him he considered
+how much remained of the story, and with quickened speech continued,
+"Well, approaching the stand, I noticed that Silver Braid was not going
+quite so fast, and at the very instant the Demon looked over his shoulder,
+and seeing he was losing ground he took up the whip. But the moment he
+struck him the horse swerved right across the course, right under the
+stand, running like a rat from underneath the whip. The Demon caught him
+one across the nose with his left hand, but seeing what was 'appening, the
+Tinman, who was on Bullfinch, sat down and began riding. I felt as if
+there was a lump of ice down my back," and Mr. Leopold lowered his voice,
+and his face became grave as he recalled that perilous moment. "I thought
+it was all over," he said, "and the Gaffer thought the same; I never saw a
+man go so deadly pale. It was all the work of a moment, but that moment
+was more than a year--at least, so it seemed to me. Well, about half-way
+up the rails the Tinman got level with the Demon. It was ten to one that
+Silver Braid would turn it up, or that the boy wouldn't 'ave the strength
+to ride out so close a finish as it was bound to be. I thought then of the
+way you used to take him along from Portslade, and I'd have given
+something to've put a pound or two of flesh into his thighs and arms. The
+Tinman was riding splendid, getting every ounce and something more out of
+Bullfinch. The Demon, too weak to do much, was sitting nearly quite still.
+It looked as if it was all up with us, but somehow Silver Braid took to
+galloping of his own accord, and 'aving such a mighty lot in 'and he won
+on the post by a 'ead--a short 'ead.... I never felt that queer in my life
+and the Gaffer was no better; but I said to him, just afore the numbers
+went up, 'It is all right, sir, he's just done it,' and when the right
+number went up I thought everything was on the dance, going for swim like.
+By golly, it was a near thing!" At the end of a long silence Mr. Leopold
+said, shaking himself out of his thoughts, "Now I must go and get their
+tea."
+
+Esther sat at the end of the table; her cheek leaned on her hand. By
+turning her eyes she could see William. Sarah noticed one of these
+stealthy backward glances and a look of anger crossed her face, and
+calling to William she asked him when the sweepstakes money would be
+divided. The question startled William from a reverie of small bets, and
+he answered that there was no reason why the sweepstakes money should not
+be divided at once.
+
+"There was twelve. That's right, isn't it?--Sarah, Margaret, Esther, Miss
+Grover, Mr. Leopold, myself, the four boys, and Swindles and Wall....
+Well, it was agreed that seven should go to the first, three to the
+second, and two to the third. No one got the third 'orse, so I suppose the
+two shillings that would have gone to him 'ad better be given to the
+first."
+
+"Given to the first! Why, that's Esther! Why should she get it?... What do
+you mean? No third! Wasn't Soap-bubble third?"
+
+"Yes, Soap-bubble was third right enough, but he wasn't in the sweep."
+
+"And why wasn't he?"
+
+"Because he wasn't among the eleven first favourites. We took them as they
+were quoted in the betting list published in the _Sportsman_."
+
+"How was it, then, that you put in Silver Braid?"
+
+"Yer needn't get so angry, Sarah, no one's cheating; it is all above
+board. If you don't believe us, you'd better accuse us straight out."
+
+"What I want to know is, why Silver Braid was included?--he wasn't among
+the eleven first favourites."
+
+"Oh, don't be so stupid, Sarah; you know that we agreed to make an
+exception in favour of our own 'orse--a nice sweep it would 'ave been if
+we 'adn't included Silver Braid."
+
+"And suppose," she exclaimed, tightening her brows, "that Soap-bubble had
+won, what would have become of our money?"
+
+"It would have been returned--everyone would have got his shilling back."
+
+"And now I am to get three shillings, and that little Methodist or
+Plymouth Brethren there, whatever you like to call her, is to get nine!"
+said Sarah, with a light of inspiration flashing through her beer-clouded
+mind. "Why should the two shillings that would have gone to Soap-bubble,
+if anyone 'ad drawn 'im, go to the first 'orse rather than to the second?"
+
+William hesitated, unable for the moment to give a good reason why the
+extra two shillings should be given to Silver Braid; and Sarah, perceiving
+her advantage, deliberately accused him of wishing to favour Esther.
+
+"Don't we know that you went out to walk with her, and that you remained
+out till nearly eleven at night. That's why you want all the money to go
+to her. You don't take us for a lot of fools, do you? Never in any place I
+ever was in before would such a thing be allowed--the footman going out
+with the kitchen-maid, and one of the Dissenting lot."
+
+"I am not going to have my religion insulted! How dare you?" And Esther
+started up from her place; but William was too quick for her. He grasped
+her arm.
+
+"Never mind what Sarah says."
+
+"Never mind what I says! ...A thing like that, who never was in a
+situation before; no doubt taken out of some 'ouse. Rescue work, I think
+they call it----"
+
+"She shan't insult me--no, she shan't!" said Esther, tremulous with
+passion.
+
+"A nice sort of person to insult!" said Sarah, her arms akimbo.
+
+"Now look you here, Sarah Tucker," said Mrs. Latch, starting from her
+seat, "I'm not going to see that girl aggravated, so that she may do what
+she shouldn't do, and give you an opportunity of going to the missis with
+tales about her. Come away, Esther, come with me. Let them go on betting
+if they will; I never saw no good come of it."
+
+"That's all very fine, mother; but it must be settled, and we have to
+divide the money."
+
+"I don't want your money," said Esther, sullenly; "I wouldn't take it."
+
+"What blooming nonsense! You must take your money. Ah, here's Mr. Leopold!
+he'll decide it."
+
+Mr. Leopold said at once that the money that under other circumstances
+would have gone to the third horse must be divided between the first and
+second; but Sarah refused to accept this decision. Finally, it was
+proposed that the matter should be referred to the editor of the
+_Sportsman_; and as Sarah still remained deaf to argument, William offered
+her choice between the _Sportsman_ and the _Sporting Life_.
+
+"Look here," said William, getting between the women; "this evening isn't
+one for fighting; we have all won our little bit, and ought to be
+thankful. The only difference between you is two shillings, that were to
+have gone to the third horse if anyone had drawn him. Mr. Leopold says it
+ought to be divided; you, Sarah, won't accept his decision. We have
+offered to write to the _Sportsman_, and Esther has offered to give up her
+claim. Now, in the name of God, tell us what do you want?"
+
+She raised some wholly irrelevant issue, and after a protracted argument
+with William, largely composed of insulting remarks, she declared that she
+wasn't going to take the two shillings, nor yet one of them; let them give
+her the three she had won--that was all she wanted. William looked at her,
+shrugged his shoulders, and, after declaring that it was his conviction
+that women wasn't intended to have nothing to do with horse-racing, he
+took up his pipe and tobacco-pouch.
+
+"Good-night, ladies, I have had enough of you for to-night; I am going to
+finish my smoke in the pantry. Don't scratch all your 'air out; leave
+enough for me to put into a locket."
+
+When the pantry door was shut, and the men had smoked some moments in
+silence, William said--
+
+"Do you think he has any chance of winning the Chesterfield Cup?"
+
+"He'll win in a canter if he'll only run straight. If I was the Gaffer I
+think I'd put up a bigger boy. He'll 'ave to carry a seven-pound penalty,
+and Johnnie Scott could ride that weight."
+
+The likelihood that a horse will bolt with one jockey and run straight
+with another was argued passionately, and illustrated with interesting
+reminiscences drawn from that remote past when Mr. Leopold was the
+Gaffer's private servant--before either of them had married--when life was
+composed entirely of horse-racing and prize-fighting. But cutting short
+his tale of how he had met one day the Birmingham Chicken in a booth, and,
+not knowing who he was, had offered to fight him, Mr. Leopold confessed he
+did not know how to act--he had a bet of fifty pounds to ten shillings for
+the double event; should he stand it out or lay some of it off? William
+thrilled with admiration. What a 'ead, and who'd think it? that little
+'ead, hardly bigger than a cocoanut! What a brain there was inside! Fifty
+pounds to ten shillings; should he stand it out or hedge some of it? Who
+could tell better than Mr. Leopold? It would, of course, be a pity to
+break into the fifty. What did ten shillings matter? Mr. Leopold was a big
+enough man to stand the racket of it even if it didn't come back. William
+felt very proud of being consulted, for Mr. Leopold had never before been
+known to let anyone know what he had on a race.
+
+Next day they walked into Shoreham together. The bar of the "Red Lion" was
+full of people. Above the thronging crowd the voice of the barman and the
+customers were heard calling, "Two glasses of Burton, glass of bitter,
+three of whiskey cold." There were railway porters, sailors, boatmen,
+shop-boys, and market gardeners. They had all won something, and had come
+for their winnings.
+
+Old Watkins, an elderly man with white whiskers and a curving stomach, had
+just run in to wet his whistle. He walked back to his office with Mr.
+Leopold and William, a little corner shelved out of some out-houses, into
+which you could walk from the street.
+
+"Talk of favourites!" he said; "I'd sooner pay over the three first
+favourites than this one--thirty, twenty to one starting price, and the
+whole town onto him; it's enough to break any man.... Now, my men, what is
+it?" he said, turning to the railway porters.
+
+"Just the trifle me and my mates 'av won over that 'ere 'orse."
+
+"What was it?"
+
+"A shilling at five and twenty to one."
+
+"Look it out, Joey. Is it all right?"
+
+"Yes, sir; yes, sir," said the clerk.
+
+And old Watkins slid his hand into his breeches pocket, and it came forth
+filled with gold and silver.
+
+"Come, come, mates, we are bound to 'ave a bet on him for the
+Chesterfield--we can afford it now; what say yer, a shilling each?"
+
+"Done for a shilling each," said the under-porter; "finest 'orse in
+training.... What price, Musser Watkins?"
+
+"Ten to one."
+
+"Right, 'ere's my bob."
+
+The other porters gave their shillings; Watkins slid them back into his
+pocket, and called to Joey to book the bet.
+
+"And, now, what is yours, Mr. Latch?"
+
+William stated the various items. He had had a bet of ten shillings to one
+on one race and had lost; he had had half-a-crown on another and had lost;
+in a word, three-and-sixpence had to be subtracted from his winnings on
+Silver Braid. These amounted to more than five pounds. William's face
+flushed with pleasure, and the world seemed to be his when he slipped four
+sovereigns and a handful of silver into his waistcoat pocket. Should he
+put a sovereign of his winnings on Silver Braid for the Chesterfield?
+Half-a-sovereign was enough! ...The danger of risking a sovereign--a whole
+sovereign--frightened him.
+
+"Now, Mr. Latch," said old Watkins, "if you want to back anything, make up
+your mind; there are a good many besides yourself who have business with
+me."
+
+William hesitated, and then said he'd take ten half-sovereigns to one
+against Silver Braid.
+
+"Ten half-sovereigns to one?" said old Watkins.
+
+William murmured "Yes," and Joey booked the bet.
+
+Mr. Leopold's business demanded more consideration. The fat betting man
+and the scarecrow little butler walked aside and talked, both apparently
+indifferent to the impatience of a number of small customers; sometimes
+Joey called in his shrill cracked voice if he might lay ten half-crowns to
+one, or five shillings to one, as the case might be. Watkins would then
+raise his eyes from Mr. Leopold's face and nod or shake his head, or
+perhaps would sign with his fingers what odds he was prepared to lay. With
+no one else would Watkins talk so lengthily, showing so much deference.
+Mr. Leopold had the knack of investing all he did with an air of mystery,
+and the deepest interest was evinced in this conversation. At last, as if
+dismissing matters of first importance, the two men approached William,
+and he heard Watkins pressing Mr. Leopold to lay off some of that fifty
+pounds.
+
+"I'll take twelve to one--twenty-four pounds to two. Shall I book it?"
+
+Mr. Leopold shook his head, and, smiling enigmatically, said he must be
+getting back. William was much impressed, and congratulated himself on his
+courage in taking the ten half-sovereigns to one. Mr. Leopold knew a thing
+or two; he had been talking to the Gaffer that morning, and if it hadn't
+been all right he would have laid off some of the money.
+
+Next day one of the Gaffer's two-year-olds won a race, and the day after
+Silver Braid won the Chesterfield Cup.
+
+The second victory of Silver Braid nearly ruined old Watkins. He declared
+that he had never been so hard hit; but as he did not ask for time and
+continued to draw notes and gold and silver in handfuls from his capacious
+pockets, his lamentations only served to stimulate the happiness of the
+fortunate backers, and, listening to the sweet note of self ringing in
+their hearts, they returned to the public-house to drink the health of the
+horse.
+
+So the flood of gold continued to roll into the little town, decrepit and
+colourless by its high shingle beach and long reaches of muddy river. The
+dear gold jingled merrily in the pockets, quickening the steps, lightening
+the heart, curling lips with smiles, opening lips with laughter. The dear
+gold came falling softly, sweetly as rain, soothing the hard lives of
+working folk. Lives pressed with toil lifted up and began to dream again.
+The dear gold was like an opiate; it wiped away memories of hardship and
+sorrow, it showed life in a lighter and merrier guise, and the folk
+laughed at their fears for the morrow and wondered how they could have
+thought life so hard and relentless. The dear gold was pleasing as a bird
+on the branch, as a flower on the stem; the tune it sang was sweet, the
+colour it flaunted was bright.
+
+The trade of former days had never brought the excitement and the fortune
+that this horse's hoofs had done. The dust they had thrown up had fallen a
+happy, golden shower upon Shoreham. In every corner and crevice of life
+the glitter appeared. That fine red dress on the builder's wife, and the
+feathers that the girls flaunt at their sweethearts, the loud trousers on
+the young man's legs, the cigar in his mouth--all is Goodwood gold. It
+glitters in that girl's ears and on this girl's finger.
+
+It was said that the town of Shoreham had won two thousand pounds on the
+race; it was said that Mr. Leopold had won two hundred; it was said that
+William Latch had won fifty; it was said that Wall, the coachman, had won
+five-and-twenty; it was said that the Gaffer had won forty thousand
+pounds. For ten miles around nothing was talked of but the wealth of the
+Barfields, and, drawn like moths to a candle, the county came to call;
+even the most distant and reserved left cards, others walked up and down
+the lawn with the Gaffer, listening to his slightest word. A golden
+prosperity shone upon the yellow Italian house. Carriages passed under its
+elm-trees at every hour and swept round the evergreen oaks. Rumour said
+that large alterations were going to be made, so that larger and grander
+entertainments might be given; an Italian garden was spoken of,
+balustrades and terraces, stables were in course of construction, many
+more race-horses were bought; they arrived daily, and the slender
+creatures, their dark eyes glancing out of the sight holes in their cloth
+hoods, walked up from the station followed by an admiring and commenting
+crowd. Drink and expensive living, dancing and singing upstairs and
+downstairs, and the jollifications culminated in a servants' ball given at
+the Shoreham Gardens. All the Woodview servants, excepting Mrs. Latch,
+were there; likewise all the servants from Mr. Northcote's, and those from
+Sir George Preston's--two leading county families. A great number of
+servants had come from West Brighton, and Lancing, and Worthing
+--altogether between two and three hundred. "Evening dress is
+indispensable" was printed on the cards. The butlers, footmen, cooks,
+ladies' maids, housemaids, and housekeepers hoped by this notification to
+keep the ball select. But the restriction seemed to condemn Esther to play
+again the part of Cinderella.
+
+
+
+
+X
+
+
+A group of men turned from the circular buffet when Esther entered. Miss
+Mary had given her a white muslin dress, a square-cut bodice with sleeves
+reaching to the elbows, and a blue sash tied round the waist. The remarks
+as she passed were, "A nice, pretty girl." William was waiting, and she
+went away with him on the hop of a vigorous polka.
+
+Many of the dancers had gone to get cool in the gardens, but a few couples
+had begun to whirl, the women borne along by force, the men poising their
+legs into curious geometrical positions.
+
+Mr. Leopold was very busy dragging men away from the circular buffet--they
+must dance whether they knew how or not.
+
+"The Gaffer has told me partic'lar to see that the 'gals' all had
+partners, and just look down that 'ere room; 'alf of that lot 'aven't been
+on their legs yet. 'Ere's a partner for you," and the butler pulled a
+young gamekeeper towards a young girl who had just arrived. She entered
+slowly, her hands clasped across her bosom, her eyes fixed on the ground,
+and the strangeness of the spectacle caused Mr. Leopold to pause. It was
+whispered that she had never worn a low dress before, and Grover came to
+the rescue of her modesty with a pocket-handkerchief.
+
+But it had been found impossible to restrict the ball to those who
+possessed or could obtain an evening suit, and plenty of check trousers
+and red neckties were hopping about. Among the villagers many a touch
+suggested costume. A young girl had borrowed her grandmother's wedding
+dress, and a young man wore a canary-coloured waistcoat and a blue
+coastguardsman's coat of old time. These touches of fancy and personal
+taste divided the villagers from the household servants. The butlers
+seemed on the watch for side dishes, and the valets suggested hair brushes
+and hot water. Cooks trailed black silk dresses adorned with wide collars,
+and fastened with gold brooches containing portraits of their late
+husbands; and the fine shirt fronts set off with rich pearls, the
+lavender-gloved hands, the delicate faces, expressive of ease and leisure,
+made Ginger's two friends--young Mr. Preston and young Mr. Northcote
+--noticeable among this menial, work-a-day crowd. Ginger loved the
+upper circles, and now he romped the polka in the most approved
+London fashion, his elbows advanced like a yacht's bowsprit, and, his
+coat-tails flying, he dashed through a group of tradespeople who were
+bobbing up and down, hardly advancing at all.
+
+Esther was now being spoken of as the belle of the ball, she had danced
+with young Mr. Preston, and seeing her sitting alone Grover called her and
+asked her why she was not dancing. Esther answered sullenly that she was
+tired.
+
+"Come, the next polka, just to show there is no ill-feeling." Half a dozen
+times William repeated his demand. At last she said--
+
+"You've spoilt all my pleasure in the dancing."
+
+"I'm sorry if I've done that, Esther. I was jealous, that's all."
+
+"Jealous! What was you jealous for? What do it matter what people think,
+so long as I know I haven't done no wrong?"
+
+And in silence they walked into the garden. The night was warm, even
+oppressive, and the moon hung like a balloon above the trees, and often
+the straying revellers stopped to consider the markings now so plain upon
+its disc. There were arbours, artificial ruins, darkling pathways, and the
+breathless garden was noisy in the illusive light. William showed Esther
+the theatre and explained its purpose. She listened, though she did not
+understand, nor could she believe that she was not dreaming when they
+suddenly stood on the borders of a beautiful lake full of the shadows of
+tall trees, and crossed by a wooden bridge at the narrowest end.
+
+"How still the water is; and the stars, they are lovely!"
+
+"You should see the gardens about three o'clock on Saturday afternoons,
+when the excursion comes in from Brighton."
+
+They walked on a little further, and Esther said, "What's these places?
+Ain't they dark?"
+
+"These are arbours, where we 'as shrimps and tea. I'll take you next
+Saturday, if you'll come."
+
+A noisy band of young men, followed by three or four girls, ran across the
+bridge. Suddenly they stopped to argue on which side the boat was to be
+found. Some chose the left, some the right; those who went to the right
+sent up a yell of triumph, and paddled into the middle of the water. They
+first addressed remarks to their companions, and then they admired the
+moon and stars. A song was demanded, and at the end of the second verse
+William threw his arm round Esther.
+
+"Oh, Esther, I do love you."
+
+She looked at him, her grey eyes fixed in a long interrogation.
+
+"I wonder if that is true. What is there to love in me?"
+
+He squeezed her tightly, and continued his protestations. "I do, I do, I
+do love you, Esther."
+
+She did not answer, and they walked slowly on. A holly bush threw a black
+shadow on the gravel path and a moment after the ornamental tin roof of
+the dancing room appeared between the trees.
+
+Even in their short absence a change had come upon the ball. About the
+circular buffet numbers of men called for drink, and talked loudly of
+horse-racing. Many were away at supper, and those that remained were
+amusing themselves in a desultory fashion. A tall, lean woman, dressed
+like Sarah in white muslin, wearing amber beads round her neck, was
+dancing the lancers with the Demon, and everyone shook with laughter when
+she whirled the little fellow round or took him in her arms and carried
+him across. William wanted to dance, but Esther was hungry, and led him
+away to an adjoining building where cold beef, chicken, and beer might be
+had by the strong and adventurous. As they struggled through the crowd
+Esther spied three young gentlemen at the other end of the room.
+
+"Now tell me, if they ask me, the young gents yonder, to dance, am I to
+look them straight in the face and say no?"
+
+William considered a moment, and then he said, "I think you had better
+dance with them if they asks you; if you refuse, Sarah will say it was I
+who put you up to it."
+
+"Let's have another bottle," cried Ginger. "Come, what do you say, Mr.
+Thomas?"
+
+Mr. Thomas coughed, smiled, and said that Mr. Arthur wished to see him in
+the hands of the police. However, he promised to drink his share. Two more
+bottles were sent for, and, stimulated by the wine, the weights that would
+probably be assigned to certain horses in the autumn handicap were
+discussed. William was very proud of being admitted into such company, and
+he listened, a cigar which he did not like between his teeth, and a glass
+of champagne in his hand.... Suddenly the conversation was interrupted by
+the cornet sounding the first phrase of a favourite waltz, and the tipsy
+and the sober hastened away.
+
+Neither Esther nor William knew how to waltz, but they tumbled round the
+room, enjoying themselves immensely. In the polka and mazurka they got on
+better; and there were quadrilles and lancers in which the gentlemen
+joined, and all were gay and pleasant; even Sarah's usually sour face
+glowed with cordiality when they joined hands and raced round the men
+standing in the middle. In the chain they lost themselves as in a
+labyrinth and found their partners unexpectedly. But the dance of the
+evening was Sir Roger de Coverley, and Esther's usually sober little brain
+evaporated in the folly of running up the room, then turning and running
+backwards, getting into her place as best she could, and then starting
+again. It always appeared to be her turn, and it was so sweet to see her
+dear William, and such a strange excitement to run forward to meet young
+Mr. Preston, to curtsey to him, and then run away; and this over and over
+again.
+
+"There's the dawn."
+
+Esther looked, and in the whitening doorways she saw the little jockey
+staggering about helplessly drunk. The smile died out of her eyes; she
+returned to her true self, to Mrs. Barfield and the Brethren. She felt
+that all this dancing, drinking, and kissing in the arbours was wicked.
+But Miss Mary had sent for her, and had told her that she would give her
+one of her dresses, and she had not known how to refuse Miss Mary. Then,
+if she had not gone, William--Sounds of loud voices were heard in the
+garden, and the lean woman in the white muslin repeated some charge.
+Esther ran out to see what was happening, and there she witnessed a
+disgraceful scene. The lean woman in the muslin dress and the amber beads
+accused young Mr. Preston of something which he denied, and she heard
+William tell someone that he was mistaken, that he and his pals didn't
+want no rowing at this 'ere ball, and what was more they didn't mean to
+have none.
+
+And her heart filled with love for her big William. What a fine fellow he
+was! how handsome were his shoulders beside that round-shouldered little
+man whom he so easily pulled aside! and having crushed out the quarrel, he
+helped her on with her jacket, and, hanging on his arm, they returned home
+through the little town. Margaret followed with the railway porter; Sarah
+was with her faithful admirer, a man with a red beard, whom she had picked
+up at the ball; Grover waddled in the rear, embarrassed with the green
+silk, which she held high out of the dust of the road.
+
+When they reached the station the sky was stained with rose, and the
+barren downs--more tin-like than ever in the shadow-less light of
+dawn--stretched across the sunrise from Lancing to Brighton. The little
+birds sat ruffling their feathers, and, awaking to the responsibilities of
+the day, flew away into the corn. The night had been close and sultry, and
+even at this hour there was hardly any freshness in the air. Esther looked
+at the hills, examining the landscape intently. She was thinking of the
+first time she saw it. Some vague association of ideas--the likeness that
+the morning landscape bore to the evening landscape, or the wish to
+prolong the sweetness of these, the last moments of her happiness,
+impelled her to linger and to ask William if the woods and fields were not
+beautiful. The too familiar landscape awoke in William neither idea nor
+sensation; Esther interested him more, and while she gazed dreamily on the
+hills he admired the white curve of her neck which showed beneath the
+unbuttoned jacket. She never looked prettier than she did that morning,
+standing on the dusty road, her white dress crumpled, the ends of the blue
+sash hanging beneath the black cloth jacket.
+
+
+
+
+XI
+
+
+For days nothing was talked of but the ball--how this man had danced, the
+bad taste of this woman's dress, and the possibility of a marriage. The
+ball had brought amusement to all, to Esther it had brought happiness. Her
+happiness was now visible in her face and audible in her voice, and
+Sarah's ironical allusions to her inability to learn to read no longer
+annoyed her, no longer stirred her temper--her love seemed to induce
+forgiveness for all and love for everything.
+
+In the evenings when their work was done Esther and her lover lingered
+about the farm buildings, listening to the rooks, seeing the lights die in
+the west; and in the summer darkness about nine she tripped by his side
+when he took the letters to post. The wheat stacks were thatching, and in
+the rickyard, in the carpenter's shop, and in the whist of the woods they
+talked of love and marriage. They lay together in the warm valleys,
+listening to the tinkling of the sheep-bell, and one evening, putting his
+pipe aside, William threw his arm round her, whispering that she was his
+wife. The words were delicious in her fainting ears, and her will died in
+what seemed like irresistible destiny. She could not struggle with him,
+though she knew that her fate depended upon her resistance, and swooning
+away she awakened in pain, powerless to free herself.... Soon after
+thoughts betook themselves on their painful way, and the stars were
+shining when he followed her across the down, beseeching her to listen.
+But she fled along the grey road and up the stairs to her room. Margaret
+was in bed, and awakening a little asked her what had kept her out so
+late. She did not answer... and hearing Margaret fall asleep she
+remembered the supper-table. Sarah, who had come in late, had sat down by
+her; William sat on the opposite side; Mrs. Latch was in her place, the
+jockeys were all together; Mr. Swindles, his snuff-box on the table;
+Margaret and Grover. Everyone had drunk a great deal; and Mr. Leopold had
+gone to the beer cellar many times. She thought that she remembered
+feeling a little dizzy when William asked her to come for a stroll up the
+hill. They had passed through the hunting gate; they had wandered into the
+loneliness of the hills. Over the folded sheep the rooks came home noisily
+through a deepening sky. So far she remembered, and she could not remember
+further; and all night lay staring into the darkness, and when Margaret
+called her in the morning she was pale and deathlike.
+
+"Whatever is the matter? You do look ill."
+
+"I did not sleep all last night. My head aches as if it would drop off. I
+don't feel as if I could go to work to-day."
+
+"That's the worst of being a servant. Well or ill, it makes no matter."
+She turned from the glass, and holding her hair in her left hand, leaned
+her head so that she might pin it. "You do look bad," she remarked dryly.
+
+Never had they been so late! Half-past seven, and the shutters still up!
+So said Margaret as they hurried downstairs. But Esther thought only of
+the meeting with William. She had seen him cleaning boots in the pantry as
+they passed. He waited till Margaret left her, till he heard the baize
+door which separated the back premises from the front of the house close,
+then he ran to the kitchen, where he expected to find Esther alone. But
+meeting his mother he mumbled some excuse and retreated. There were
+visitors in the house, he had a good deal to do that morning, and Esther
+kept close to Mrs. Latch; but at breakfast it suddenly became necessary
+that she should answer him, and Sarah saw that Esther and William were no
+longer friends.
+
+"Well I never! Look at her! She sits there over her tea-cup as melancholy
+as a prayer-meeting."
+
+"What is it to you?" said William.
+
+"What's it to me? I don't like an ugly face at the breakfast-table, that's
+all."
+
+"I wouldn't be your looking-glass, then. Luckily there isn't one here."
+
+In the midst of an angry altercation, Esther walked out of the room.
+During dinner she hardly spoke at all. After dinner she went to her room,
+and did not come down until she thought he had gone out with the carriage.
+But she was too soon, William came running down the passage to meet her.
+He laid his hand supplicatingly on her arm.
+
+"Don't touch me!" she said, and her eyes filled with dangerous light.
+
+"Now, Esther! ...Come, don't lay it on too thick!"
+
+"Go away. Don't speak to me!"
+
+"Just listen one moment, that's all."
+
+"Go away. If you don't, I'll go straight to Mrs. Barfield."
+
+She passed into the kitchen and shut the door in his face. He had gone a
+trifle pale, and after lingering a few moments he hurried away to the
+stables, and Esther saw him spring on the box.
+
+As it was frequent with Esther not to speak to anyone with whom she had
+had a dispute for a week or fifteen days, her continued sulk excited
+little suspicion, and the cause of the quarrel was attributed to some
+trifle. Sarah said--
+
+"Men are such fools. He is always begging of her to forgive him. Just look
+at him--he is still after her, following her into the wood-shed."
+
+She rarely answered him a yes or no, but would push past him, and if he
+forcibly barred the way she would say, "Let me go by, will you? You are
+interfering with my work." And if he still insisted, she spoke of
+appealing to Mrs. Barfield. And if her heart sometimes softened, and an
+insidious thought whispered that it did not matter since they were going
+to be married, instinct forced her to repel him; her instinct was that she
+could only win his respect by refusing forgiveness for a long while. The
+religion in which her soul moved and lived--the sternest
+Protestantism--strengthened and enforced the original convictions and the
+prejudices of her race; and the natural shame which she had first felt
+almost disappeared in the violence of her virtue. She even ceased to fear
+discovery. What did it matter who knew, since she knew? She opened her
+heart to God. Christ looked down, but he seemed stern and unforgiving. Her
+Christ was the Christ of her forefathers; and He had not forgiven, because
+she could not forgive herself. Hers was the unpardonable sin, the sin
+which her race had elected to fight against, and she lay down weary and
+sullen at heart.
+
+The days seemed to bring no change, and wearied by her stubbornness,
+William said, "Let her sulk," and he went out with Sarah; and when Esther
+saw them go down the yard her heart said, "Let him take her out, I don't
+want him." For she knew it to be a trick to make her jealous, and that he
+should dare such a trick angered her still further against him, and when
+they met in the garden, where she had gone with some food for the cats,
+and he said, "Forgive me, Esther, I only went out with Sarah because you
+drove me wild," she closed her teeth and refused to answer. But he stood
+in her path, determined not to leave her. "I am very fond of you, Esther,
+and I will marry you as soon as I have earned enough or won enough money
+to give you a comfortable 'ome."
+
+"You are a wicked man; I will never marry you."
+
+"I am very sorry, Esther. But I am not as bad as you think for. You let
+your temper get the better of you. So soon as I have got a bit of money
+together--"
+
+"If you were a good man you would ask me to marry you now."
+
+"I will if you like, but the truth is that I have only three pounds in the
+world. I have been unlucky lately--"
+
+"You think of nothing but that wicked betting. Come, let me pass; I'm not
+going to listen to a lot of lies."
+
+"After the Leger--"
+
+"Let me pass. I will not speak to you."
+
+"But look here, Esther: marriage or no marriage, we can't go on in this
+way: they'll be suspecting something shortly."
+
+"I shall leave Woodview." She had hardly spoken the words when it seemed
+clear to her that she must leave, and the sooner the better. "Come, let me
+pass.... If Mrs. Barfield--"
+
+An angry look passed over William's face, and he said--
+
+"I want to act honest with you, and you won't let me. If ever there was a
+sulky pig! ...Sarah's quite right; you are just the sort that would make
+hell of a man's life."
+
+She was bound to make him respect her. She had vaguely felt from the
+beginning that this was her only hope, and now the sensation developed and
+defined itself into a thought and she decided that she would not yield,
+but would continue to affirm her belief that he must acknowledge his sin,
+and then come and ask her to marry him. Above all things, Esther desired
+to see William repentant. Her natural piety, filling as it did her entire
+life, unconsciously made her deem repentance an essential condition of
+their happiness. How could they be happy if he were not a God-fearing man?
+This question presented itself constantly, and she was suddenly convinced
+that she could not marry him until he had asked forgiveness of the Lord.
+Then they would be joined together, and would love each other faithfully
+unto death.
+
+But in conflict with her prejudices, her natural love of the man was as
+the sun shining above a fog-laden valley; rays of passion pierced her
+stubborn nature, dissolving it, and unconsciously her eyes sought
+William's, and unconsciously her steps strayed from the kitchen when her
+ears told her he was in the passage. But when her love went out freely to
+William, when she longed to throw herself in his arms, saying, "Yes, I
+love you; make me your wife," she noticed, or thought she noticed, that he
+avoided her eyes, and she felt that thoughts of which she knew nothing had
+obtained a footing in his mind, and she was full of foreboding.
+
+Her heart being intent on him, she was aware of much that escaped the
+ordinary eye, and she was the first to notice when the drawing-room bell
+rang, and Mr. Leopold rose, that William would say, "My legs are the
+youngest, don't you stir."
+
+No one else, not even Sarah, thought William intended more than to keep in
+Mr. Leopold's good graces, but Esther, although unable to guess the truth,
+heard the still tinkling bell ringing the knell of her hopes. She noted,
+too, the time he remained upstairs, and asked herself anxiously what it
+was that detained him so long. The weather had turned colder lately....
+Was it a fire that was wanted? In the course of the afternoon, she heard
+from Margaret that Miss Mary and Mrs. Barfield had gone to Southwick to
+make a call, and she heard from one of the boys that the Gaffer and Ginger
+had ridden over in the morning to Fendon Fair, and had not yet returned.
+It must have been Peggy who had rung the bell. Peggy? Suddenly she
+remembered something--something that had been forgotten. The first Sunday,
+the first time she went to the library for family prayers, Peggy was
+sitting on the little green sofa, and as Esther passed across the room to
+her place she saw her cast a glance of admiration on William's tall
+figure, and the memory of that glance had flamed up in her brain, and all
+that night Esther saw the girl with the pale face and the coal-black hair
+looking at her William.
+
+Next day Esther waited for the bell that was to call her lover from her.
+The afternoon wore slowly away, and she had begun to hope she was mistaken
+when the metal tongue commenced calling. She heard the baize door close
+behind him; but the bell still continued to utter little pathetic notes. A
+moment after all was still in the corridor, and like one sunk to the knees
+in quicksands she felt that the time had come for a decided effort. But
+what could she do? She could not follow him to the drawing-room. She had
+begun to notice that he seemed to avoid her, and by his conduct seemed to
+wish that their quarrel might endure. But pride and temper had fallen from
+her, and she lived conscious of him, noting every sign, and intensely, all
+that related to him, divining all his intentions, and meeting him in the
+passage when he least expected her.
+
+"I'm always getting in your way," she said, with a low, nervous laugh.
+
+"No harm in that; ...fellow servants; there must be give and take."
+
+Tremblingly they looked at each other, feeling that the time had come,
+that an explanation was inevitable, but at that moment the drawing-room
+bell rang above their heads, and William said, "I must answer that bell."
+He turned from her, and passed through the baize door before she had said
+another word.
+
+Sarah remarked that William seemed to spend a great deal of his time in
+the drawing-room, and Esther started out of her moody contemplation, and,
+speaking instinctively, she said, "I don't think much of ladies who go
+after their servants."
+
+Everyone looked up. Mrs. Latch laid her carving-knife on the meat and
+fixed her eyes on her son.
+
+"Lady?" said Sarah; "she's no lady! Her mother used to mop out the yard
+before she was 'churched.'"
+
+"I can tell you what," said William, "you had better mind what you are
+a-saying of, for if any of your talk got wind upstairs you'd lose yer
+situation, and it might be some time before yer got another!"
+
+"Lose my situation! and a good job, too. I shall always be able to suit
+mesel'; don't you fear about me. But if it comes to talking about
+situations, I can tell you that you are more likely to lose yours than I
+am to lose mine."
+
+William hesitated, and while he sought a judicious reply Mrs. Latch and
+Mr. Leopold, putting forth their joint authority, brought the discussion
+to a close. The jockey-boys exchanged grins, Sarah sulked, Mr. Swindles
+pursed up his mouth in consideration, and the elder servants felt that the
+matter would not rest in the servant's hall; that evening it would be the
+theme of conversation in the "Red Lion," and the next day it would be the
+talk of the town.
+
+About four o'clock Esther saw Mrs. Barfield, Miss Mary, and Peggy walk
+across the yard towards the garden, and as Esther had to go soon after to
+the wood-shed she saw Peggy slip out of the garden by a bottom gate and
+make her way through the evergreens. Esther hastened back to the kitchen
+and stood waiting for the bell to ring. She had not to wait long; the bell
+tinkled, but so faintly that Esther said, "She only just touched it; it is
+a signal; he was on the look-out for it; she did not want anyone else to
+hear."
+
+Esther remembered the thousands of pounds she had heard that the young
+lady possessed, and the beautiful dresses she wore. There was no hope for
+her. How could there be? Her poor little wages and her print dress! He
+would never look at her again! But oh! how cruel and wicked it was! How
+could one who had so much come to steal from one who had so little? Oh, it
+was very cruel and very wicked, and no good would come of it either to her
+or to him; of that she felt quite sure. God always punished the wicked.
+She knew he did not love Peggy. It was sin and shame; and after his
+promises--after what had happened. Never would she have believed him to be
+so false. Then her thought turned to passionate hatred of the girl who had
+so cruelly robbed her. He had gone through that baize door, and no doubt
+he was sitting by Peggy in the new drawing-room. He had gone where she
+could not follow. He had gone where the grand folk lived in idleness, in
+the sinfulness of the world and the flesh, eating and gambling, thinking
+of nothing else, and with servants to wait on them, obeying their orders
+and saving them from every trouble. She knew that these fine folk thought
+servants inferior beings. But was she not of the same flesh and blood as
+they? Peggy wore a fine dress, but she was no better; take off her dress
+and they were the same, woman to woman.
+
+She pushed through the door and walked down the passage. A few steps
+brought her to the foot of a polished oak staircase, lit by a large window
+in coloured glass, on either side of which there were statues. The
+staircase sloped slowly to an imposing landing set out with columns and
+blue vases and embroidered curtains. The girl saw these things vaguely,
+and she was conscious of a profusion of rugs, matting, and bright doors,
+and of her inability to decide which door was the drawing-room door--the
+drawing-room of which she had heard so much, and where even now, amid gold
+furniture and sweet-scented air, William listened to the wicked woman who
+had tempted him away from her. Suddenly William appeared, and seeing
+Esther he seemed uncertain whether to draw back or come forward. Then his
+face took an expression of mixed fear and anger; and coming rapidly
+towards her, he said--
+
+"What are you doing here?"... then changing his voice, "This is against
+the rules of the 'ouse."
+
+"I want to see her."
+
+"Anything else? What do you want to say to her? I won't have it, I tell
+you.... What do you mean by spying after me? That's your game, is it?"
+
+"I want to speak to her."
+
+With averted face the young lady fled up the oak staircase, her
+handkerchief to her lips. Esther made a movement as if to follow, but
+William prevented her. She turned and walked down the passage and entered
+the kitchen. Her face was one white tint, her short, strong arms hung
+tremblingly, and William saw that it would be better to temporise.
+
+"Now look here, Esther," he said, "you ought to be damned thankful to me
+for having prevented you from making a fool of yourself."
+
+Esther's eyelids quivered, and then her eyes dilated.
+
+"Now, if Miss Margaret," continued William, "had--"
+
+"Go away! go away! I am--" At that moment the steel of a large,
+sharp-pointed knife lying on the table caught her eye. She snatched it up,
+and seeing blood she rushed at him.
+
+William retreated from her, and Mrs. Latch, coming suddenly in, caught her
+arm. Esther threw the knife; it struck the wall, falling with a rattle on
+the meat screen. Escaping from Mrs. Latch, she rushed to secure it, but
+her strength gave way, and she fell back in a dead faint.
+
+"What have you been doing to the girl?" said Mrs. Latch.
+
+"Nothing, mother.... We had a few words, that was all. She said I should
+not go out with Sarah."
+
+"That is not true.... I can read the lie in your face; a girl doesn't take
+up a knife unless a man well-nigh drives her mad."
+
+"That's right; always side against your son! ...If you don't believe me,
+get what you can out of her yourself." And, turning on his heel, he walked
+out of the house.
+
+Mrs. Latch saw him pass down the yard towards the stables, and when Esther
+opened her eyes she looked at Mrs. Latch questioningly, unable to
+understand why the old woman was standing by her.
+
+"Are you better now, dear?"
+
+"Yes, but--but what--" Then remembrance struggled back. "Is he gone? Did I
+strike him? I remember that I--"
+
+"You did not hurt him."
+
+"I don't want to see him again. Far better not. I was mad. I did not know
+what I was doing."
+
+"You will tell me about it another time, dear."
+
+"Where is he? tell me that; I must know."
+
+"Gone to the stables, I think; but you must not go after him--you'll see
+him to-morrow."
+
+"I do not want to go after him; but he isn't hurt? That's what I want to
+know."
+
+"No, he isn't hurt.... You're getting stronger.... Lean on me. You'll
+begin to feel better when you are in bed. I'll bring you up your tea."
+
+"Yes, I shall be all right presently. But how'll you manage to get the
+dinner?"
+
+"Don't you worry about that; you go upstairs and lie down."
+
+A desolate hope floated over the surface of her brain that William might
+be brought back to her.
+
+In the evening the kitchen was full of people: Margaret, Sarah, and Grover
+were there, and she heard that immediately after lunch Mr. Leopold had
+been sent for, and the Gaffer had instructed him to pay William a month's
+wages, and see that he left the house that very instant. Sarah, Margaret,
+and Grover watched Esther's face and were surprised at her indifference.
+She even seemed pleased. She was pleased; nothing better could have
+happened. William was now separated from her rival, and released from her
+bad influence he would return to his real love. At the first sign she
+would go to him, she would forgive him. But a little later, when the
+dishes came down from the dining-room, it was whispered that Peggy was not
+there.
+
+Later in the evening, when the servants were going to bed, it became known
+that she had left the house, that she had taken the six o'clock to
+Brighton. Esther turned from the foot of the stair with a wild look.
+Margaret caught her.
+
+"It's no use, dear; you can do nothing to-night."
+
+"I can walk to Brighton."
+
+"No, you can't; you don't know the way, and even if you did you don't know
+where they are."
+
+Neither Sarah nor Grover made any remark, and in silence the servants went
+to their rooms. Margaret closed the door and turned to look at Esther, who
+had fallen on the chair, her eyes fixed in vacancy.
+
+"I know what it is; I was the same when Jim Story got the sack. It seems
+as if one couldn't live through it, and yet one does somehow."
+
+"I wonder if they'll marry."
+
+"Most probable. She has a lot of money."
+
+Two days after a cab stood in the yard in front of the kitchen window.
+Peggy's luggage was being piled upon it--two large, handsome basket boxes
+with the initials painted on them. Kneeling on the box-seat, the coachman
+leaned over the roof making room for another--a small box covered with red
+cowhide and tied with a rough rope. The little box in its poor simplicity
+brought William back to Esther, whelming her for a moment in so acute a
+sense of her loss that she had to leave the kitchen. She went into the
+scullery, drew the door after her, sat down, and hid her face in her
+apron. A stifled sob or two, and then she recovered her habitual gravity
+of expression, and continued her work as if nothing had happened.
+
+
+
+
+XII
+
+
+"They are just crazy about it upstairs. Ginger and the Gaffer are the
+worst. They say they had better sell the place and build another house
+somewhere else. None of the county people will call on them now--and just
+as they were beginning to get on so well! Miss Mary, too, is terrible cut
+up about it; she says it will interfere with her prospects, and that
+Ginger has nothing to do now but to marry the kitchen-maid to complete the
+ruin of the Barfields."
+
+"Miss Mary is far too kind to say anything to wound another's feelings. It
+is only a nasty old deceitful thing like yourself who could think of such
+a thing."
+
+"Eh, you got it there, my lady," said Sarah, who had had a difference with
+Grover, and was anxious to avenge it.
+
+Grover looked at Sarah in astonishment, and her look clearly said, "Is
+everyone going to side with that little kitchen-maid?"
+
+Then, to flatter Mrs. Latch, Sarah spoke of the position the Latches had
+held three generations ago; the Barfields were then nobodies; they had
+nothing even now but their money, and that had come out of a livery
+stable. "And it shows, too; just compare Ginger with young Preston or
+young Northcote. Anyone could tell the difference."
+
+Esther listened with an unmoved face and a heavy ache in her heart. She
+had now not an enemy nor yet an opponent; the cause of rivalry and
+jealousy being removed, all were sorry for her. They recognised that she
+had suffered and was suffering, and seeing none but friends about her, she
+was led to think how happy she might have been in this beautiful house if
+it had not been for William. She loved her work, for she was working for
+those she loved. She could imagine no life happier than hers might have
+been. But she had sinned, and the Lord had punished her for sin, and she
+must bear her punishment uncomplainingly, giving Him thanks that He had
+imposed no heavier one upon her.
+
+Such reflection was the substance of Esther's mind for three months after
+William's departure; and in the afternoons, about three o'clock, when her
+work paused, Esther's thoughts would congregate and settle on the great
+misfortune of her life--William's desertion.
+
+It was one afternoon at the beginning of December; Mrs. Latch had gone
+upstairs to lie down. Esther had drawn her chair towards the fire. A
+broken-down race-horse, his legs bandaged from his knees to his fetlocks,
+had passed up the yard; he was going for walking exercise on the downs,
+and when the sound of his hoofs had died away Esther was quite alone. She
+sat on her wooden chair facing the wide kitchen window. She had advanced
+one foot on the iron fender; her head leaned back, rested on her hand. She
+did not think--her mind was lost in vague sensation of William, and it was
+in this death of active memory that something awoke within her, something
+that seemed to her like a flutter of wings; her heart seemed to drop from
+its socket, and she nearly fainted away, but recovering herself she stood
+by the kitchen table, her arms drawn back and pressed to her sides, a
+death-like pallor over her face, and drops of sweat on her forehead. The
+truth was borne in upon her; she realised in a moment part of the awful
+drama that awaited her, and from which nothing could free her, and which
+she would have to live through hour by hour. So dreadful did it seem, that
+she thought her brain must give way. She would have to leave Woodview. Oh,
+the shame of confession! Mrs. Barfield, who had been so good to her, and
+who thought so highly of her. Her father would not have her at home; she
+would be homeless in London. No hope of obtaining a situation.... they
+would send her away without a character, homeless in London, and every
+month her position growing more desperate....
+
+A sickly faintness crept up through her. The flesh had come to the relief
+of the spirit; and she sank upon her chair, almost unconscious, sick, it
+seemed, to death, and she rose from the chair wiping her forehead slowly
+with her apron.... She might be mistaken. And she hid her face in her
+hands, and then, falling on her knees, her arms thrown forward upon the
+table, she prayed for strength to walk without flinching under any cross
+that He had thought fit to lay upon her.
+
+There was still the hope that she might be mistaken; and this hope lasted
+for one week, for two, but at the end of the third week it perished, and
+she abandoned herself in prayer. She prayed for strength to endure with
+courage what she now knew she must endure, and she prayed for light to
+guide her in her present decision. Mrs. Barfield, however much she might
+pity her, could not keep her once she knew the truth, whereas none might
+know the truth if she did not tell it. She might remain at Woodview
+earning another quarter's wages; the first she had spent on boots and
+clothes, the second she had just been paid. If she stayed on for another
+quarter she would have eight pounds, and with that money, and much less
+time to keep herself, she might be able to pull through. But would she be
+able to go undetected for nearly three whole months, until her next wages
+came due? She must risk it.
+
+Three months of constant fear and agonising suspense wore away, and no
+one, not even Margaret, suspected Esther's condition. Encouraged by her
+success, and seeing still very little sign of change in her person, and as
+every penny she could earn was of vital consequence in the coming time,
+Esther determined to risk another month; then she would give notice and
+leave. Another month passed, and Esther was preparing for departure when a
+whisper went round, and before she could take steps to leave she was told
+that Mrs. Barfield wished to see her in the library. Esther turned a
+little pale, and the expression of her face altered; it seemed to her
+impossible to go before Mrs. Barfield and admit her shame. Margaret, who
+was standing near and saw what was passing in her mind, said--
+
+"Pull yourself together, Esther. You know the Saint--she's not a bad sort.
+Like all the real good ones, she is kind enough to the faults of others."
+
+"What's this? What's the matter with Esther?" said Mrs. Latch, who had not
+yet heard of Esther's misfortune.
+
+"I'll tell you presently, Mrs. Latch. Go, dear, get it over."
+
+Esther hurried down the passage and passed through the baize door without
+further thought. She had then but to turn to the left and a few steps
+would bring her to the library door. The room was already present in her
+mind. She could see it. The dim light, the little green sofa, the round
+table covered with books, the piano at the back, the parrot in the corner,
+and the canaries in the window. She knocked at the door. The well-known
+voice said, "Come in." She turned the handle, and found herself alone with
+her mistress. Mrs. Barfield laid down the book she was reading, and looked
+up. She did not look as angry as Esther had imagined, but her voice was
+harder than usual.
+
+"Is this true, Esther?"
+
+Esther hung down her head. She could not speak at first; then she said,
+"Yes."
+
+"I thought you were a good girl, Esther."
+
+"So did I, ma'am."
+
+Mrs. Barfield looked at the girl quickly, hesitated a moment, and then
+said--
+
+"And all this time--how long is it?"
+
+"Nearly seven months, ma'am."
+
+"And all this time you were deceiving us."
+
+"I was three months gone before I knew it myself, ma'am."
+
+"Three months! Then for three months you have knelt every Sunday in prayer
+in this room, for twelve Sundays you sat by me learning to read, and you
+never said a word?"
+
+A certain harshness in Mrs. Barfield's voice awakened a rebellious spirit
+in Esther, and a lowering expression gathered above her eyes. She said--
+
+"Had I told you, you would have sent me away then and there. I had only a
+quarter's wages, and should have starved or gone and drowned myself."
+
+"I'm sorry to hear you speak like that, Esther."
+
+"It is trouble that makes me, ma'am, and I have had a great deal."
+
+"Why did you not confide in me? I have not shown myself cruel to you, have
+I?"
+
+"No, indeed, ma'am. You are the best mistress a servant ever had, but--"
+
+"But what?"
+
+"Why, ma'am, it is this way.... I hated being deceitful--indeed I did. But
+I can no longer think of myself. There is another to think for now."
+
+There was in Mrs. Barfield's look something akin to admiration, and she
+felt she had not been wholly wrong in her estimate of the girl's
+character; she said, and in a different intonation--
+
+"Perhaps you were right, Esther. I couldn't have kept you on, on account
+of the bad example to the younger servants. I might have helped you with
+money. But six months alone in London and in your condition! ...I am glad
+you did not tell me, Esther; and as you say there is another to think of
+now, I hope you will never neglect your child, if God give it to you
+alive."
+
+"I hope not, ma'am; I shall try and do my best."
+
+"My poor girl! my poor girl! you do not know what trial is in store for
+you. A girl like you, and only twenty! ...Oh, it is a shame! May God give
+you courage to bear up in your adversity!"
+
+"I know there is many a hard time before me, but I have prayed for
+strength, and God will give me strength, and I must not complain. My case
+is not so bad as many another. I have nearly eight pounds. I shall get on,
+ma'am, that is to say if you will stand by me and not refuse me a
+character."
+
+"Can I give you a character? You were tempted, you were led into
+temptation. I ought to have watched over you better--mine is the
+responsibility. Tell me, it was not your fault."
+
+"It is always a woman's fault, ma'am. But he should not have deserted me
+as he did, that's the only thing I reproach him with, the rest was my
+fault--I shouldn't have touched the second glass of ale. Besides, I was in
+love with him, and you know what that is. I thought no harm, and I let him
+kiss me. He used to take me out for walks on the hill and round the farm.
+He told me he loved me, and would make me his wife--that's how it was.
+Afterwards he asked me to wait till after the Leger, and that riled me,
+and I knew then how wicked I had been. I would not go out with him or
+speak to him any more; and while our quarrel was going on Miss Peggy went
+after him, and that's how I got left."
+
+At the mention of Peggy's name a cloud passed over Mrs. Barfield's face.
+"You have been shamefully treated, my poor child. I knew nothing of all
+this. So he said he would marry you if he won his bet on the Leger? Oh,
+that betting! I know that nothing else is thought of here; upstairs and
+downstairs, the whole place is poisoned with it, and it is the fault of--"
+Mrs. Barfield walked hurriedly across the room, but when she turned the
+sight of Esther provoked her into speech. "I have seen it all my life,
+nothing else, and I have seen nothing come of it but sin and sorrow; you
+are not the first victim. Ah, what ruin, what misery, what death!"
+
+Mrs. Barfield covered her face with her hands, as if to shut out the
+memories that crowded upon her.
+
+"I think, ma'am, if you will excuse my saying so, that a great deal of
+harm do come from this betting on race-horses. The day when you was all
+away at Goodwood when the horse won, I went down to see what the sea was
+like here. I was brought up by the seaside at Barnstaple. On the beach I
+met Mrs. Leopold, that is to say Mrs. Randal, John's wife; she seemed to
+be in great trouble, she looked that melancholy, and for company's sake
+she asked me to come home to tea with her. She was in that state of mind,
+ma'am, that she forgot the teaspoons were in pawn, and when she could not
+give me one she broke down completely, and told me what her troubles had
+been."
+
+"What did she tell you, Esther?"
+
+"I hardly remember, ma'am, but it was all the same thing--ruin if the
+horse didn't win, and more betting if he did. But she said they never had
+been in such a fix as the day Silver Braid won. If he had been beaten they
+would have been thrown out on the street, and from what I have heard the
+best half of the town too."
+
+"So that little man has suffered. I thought he was wiser than the rest....
+This house has been the ruin of the neighbourhood; we have dispensed vice
+instead of righteousness." Walking towards the window, Mrs. Barfield
+continued to talk to herself. "I have struggled against the evil all my
+life, and without result. How much more misery shall I see come of it?"
+Turning then to Esther she said, "Yes, the betting is an evil--one from
+which many have suffered--but the question is now about yourself, Esther.
+How much money have you?"
+
+"I have about eight pounds, ma'am."
+
+"And how much do you reckon will see you through it?"
+
+"I don't know, ma'am, I have no experience. I think father will let me
+stay at home if I can pay my way. I could manage easily on seven shillings
+a week. When my time comes I shall go to the hospital."
+
+While Esther spoke Mrs. Barfield calculated roughly that about ten pounds
+would meet most of her wants. Her train fare, two month's board at seven
+shillings a week, the room she would have to take near the hospital before
+her confinement, and to which she would return with her baby--all these
+would run to about four or five pounds. There would be baby's clothes to
+buy.... If she gave four pounds Esther would have then twelve pounds, and
+with that she would be able to manage. Mrs. Barfield went over to an
+old-fashioned escritoire, and, pulling out some small drawers, took from
+one some paper packages which she unfolded. "Now, my girl, look here. I'm
+going to give you four pounds; then you will have twelve, and that ought
+to see you through your trouble. You have been a good servant, Esther; I
+like you very much, and am truly sorry to part with you. You will write
+and tell me how you are getting on, and if one of these days you want a
+place, and I have one to give you, I shall be glad to take you back."
+
+Harshness deadened and hardened her feelings, yet she was easily moved by
+kindness, and she longed to throw herself at her mistress's feet; but her
+nature did not admit of such effusion, and she said, in her blunt English
+way--
+
+"You are far too good, ma'am; I do not deserve such treatment--I know I
+don't."
+
+"Say no more, Esther. I hope that the Lord may give you strength to bear
+your cross.... Now go and pack up your box. But, Esther, do you feel your
+sin, can you truly say honestly before God that you repent?"
+
+"Yes, ma'am, I think I can say all that."
+
+"Then, Esther, come and kneel down and pray to God to give you strength in
+the future to stand against temptation."
+
+Mrs. Barfield took Esther's hand and they knelt down by the round table,
+leaning their hands on its edge. And, in a high, clear voice, Mrs.
+Barfield prayed aloud, Esther repeating the words after her--
+
+"Dear Lord, Thou knowest all things, knowest how Thy servant has strayed
+and has fallen into sin. But Thou hast said there is more joy in heaven
+over one sinner that repenteth than over ninety and nine just men.
+Therefore, Lord, kneeling here before Thee, we pray that this poor girl,
+who repents of the evil she has done, may be strengthened in Thy mercy to
+stand firm against temptation. Forgive her sin, even as Thou forgavest the
+woman of Samaria. Give her strength to walk uprightly before Thee, and
+give her strength to bear the pain and the suffering that lie before her."
+
+The women rose from their knees and stood looking at each other. Esther's
+eyes were full of tears. Without speaking she turned to go.
+
+"One word more, Esther. You asked me just now for a character; I
+hesitated, but it seems to me now that it would be wrong to refuse. If I
+did you might never get a place, and then it would be impossible to say
+what might happen. I am not certain that I am doing right, but I know what
+it means to refuse to give a servant a character, and I cannot take upon
+myself the responsibility."
+
+Mrs. Barfield wrote out a character for Esther, in which she described her
+as an honest, hard-working girl. She paused at the word "reliable," and
+wrote instead, "I believe her to be at heart a thoroughly religious girl."
+
+She went upstairs to pack her box, and when she came down she found all
+the women in the kitchen; evidently they were waiting for her. Coming
+forward, Sarah said--
+
+"I hope we shall part friends, Esther; any quarrels we may have
+had--There's no ill-feeling now, is there?"
+
+"I bear no one any ill-feeling. We have been friends these last months;
+indeed, everyone has been very kind to me." And Esther kissed Sarah on
+both cheeks.
+
+"I'm sure we're all sorry to lose you," said Margaret, pressing forward,
+"and we hope you'll write and let us know how you are getting on."
+
+Margaret, who was a tender-hearted girl, began to cry, and, kissing
+Esther, she declared that she had never got on with a girl who slept in
+her room so well before. Esther shook hands with Grover, and then her eyes
+met Mrs. Latch's. The old woman took her in her arms.
+
+"It breaks my heart to think that one belonging to me should have done you
+such a wrong--But if you want for anything let me know, and you shall have
+it. You will want money; I have some here for you."
+
+"Thank you, thank you, but I have all I want. Mrs. Barfield has been very
+good to me."
+
+The babbling of so many voices drew Mr. Leopold from the pantry; he came
+with a glass of beer in his hand, and this suggested a toast to Sarah.
+"Let's drink baby's health," she said. "Mr. Leopold won't refuse us the
+beer."
+
+The idea provoked some good-natured laughter, and Esther hid her face in
+her hands and tried to get away. But Margaret would not allow her. "What
+nonsense!" she said. "We don't think any the worse of you; why that's an
+accident that might happen to any of us."
+
+"I hope not," said Esther.
+
+The jug of beer was finished; she was kissed and hugged again, some tears
+were shed, and Esther walked down the yard through the stables.
+
+The avenue was full of wind and rain; the branches creaked dolefully
+overhead; the lane was drenched, and the bare fields were fringed with
+white mist, and the houses seemed very desolate by the bleak sea; and the
+girl's soul was desolate as the landscape. She had come to Woodview to
+escape the suffering of a home which had become unendurable, and she was
+going back in circumstances a hundred times worse than those in which she
+had left it, and she was going back with the memory of the happiness she
+had lost. All the grief and trouble that girls of her class have so
+frequently to bear gathered in Esther's heart when she looked out of the
+railway carriage window and saw for the last time the stiff plantations on
+the downs and the angles of the Italian house between the trees. She drew
+her handkerchief from her jacket, and hid her distress as well as she
+could from the other occupants of the carriage.
+
+
+
+
+XIII
+
+
+When she arrived at Victoria it was raining. She picked up her skirt, and
+as she stepped across a puddle a wild and watery wind swept up the wet
+streets, catching her full in the face.
+
+She had left her box in the cloak-room, for she did not know if her father
+would have her at home. Her mother would tell her what she thought, but no
+one could say for certain what he would do. If she brought the box he
+might fling it after her into the street; better come without it, even if
+she had to go back through the wet to fetch it. At that moment another
+gust drove the rain violently over her, forcing it through her boots. The
+sky was a tint of ashen grey, and all the low brick buildings were veiled
+in vapour; the rough roadway was full of pools, and nothing was heard but
+the melancholy bell of the tram-car. She hesitated, not wishing to spend a
+penny unnecessarily, but remembering that a penny wise is often a pound
+foolish she called to the driver and got in. The car passed by the little
+brick street where the Saunders lived, and when Esther pushed the door
+open she could see into the kitchen and overhear the voices of the
+children. Mrs. Saunders was sweeping down the stairs, but at the sound of
+footsteps she ceased to bang the broom, and, stooping till her head looked
+over the banisters, she cried--
+
+"Who is it?"
+
+"Me, mother."
+
+"What! You, Esther?"
+
+"Yes, mother."
+
+Mrs. Saunders hastened down, and, leaning the broom against the wall, she
+took her daughter in her arms and kissed her. "Well, this is nice to see
+you again, after this long while. But you are looking a bit poorly,
+Esther." Then her face changed expression. "What has happened? Have you
+lost your situation?"
+
+"Yes, mother."
+
+"Oh, I am that sorry, for we thought you was so 'appy there and liked your
+mistress above all those you 'ad ever met with. Did you lose your temper
+and answer her back? They is often trying, I know that, and your own
+temper--you was never very sure of it."
+
+"I've no fault to find with my mistress; she is the kindest in the
+world--none better,--and my temper--it wasn't that, mother--"
+
+"My own darling, tell me--"
+
+Esther paused. The children had ceased talking in the kitchen, and the
+front door was open. "Come into the parlour. We can talk quietly there....
+When do you expect father home?"
+
+"Not for the best part of a couple of hours yet."
+
+Mrs. Saunders waited until Esther had closed the front door. Then they
+went into the parlour and sat down side by side on the little horsehair
+sofa placed against the wall facing the window. The anxiety in their
+hearts betrayed itself on their faces.
+
+"I had to leave, mother. I'm seven months gone."
+
+"Oh, Esther, Esther, I cannot believe it!"
+
+"Yes, mother, it is quite true."
+
+Esther hurried through her story, and when her mother questioned her
+regarding details she said--
+
+"Oh, mother, what does it matter? I don't care to talk about it more than
+I can help."
+
+Tears had begun to roll down Mrs. Saunders' cheeks, and when she wiped
+them away with the corner of her apron, Esther heard a sob.
+
+"Don't cry, mother," said Esther. "I have been very wicked, I know, but
+God will be good to me. I always pray to him, just as you taught me to do,
+and I daresay I shall get through my trouble somehow."
+
+"Your father will never let you stop 'ere; 'e'll say, just as afore, that
+there be too many mouths to feed as it is."
+
+"I don't want him to keep me for nothing--I know well enough if I did that
+'e'd put me outside quick enough. But I can pay my way. I earned good
+money while I was with the Barfields, and though she did tell me I must
+go, Mrs. Barfield--the Saint they call her, and she is a saint if ever
+there was one--gave me four pounds to see me, as she said, through my
+trouble. I've better than eleven pound. Don't cry, mother dear; crying
+won't do no good, and I want you to help me. So long as the money holds
+out I can get a lodging anywhere, but I'd like to be near you; and father
+might be glad to let me have the parlour and my food for ten or eleven
+shillings a week--I could afford as much as that, and he never was the man
+to turn good money from his door. Do yer think he will?"
+
+"I dunno, dearie; 'tis hard to say what 'e'll do; he's a 'ard man to live
+with. I've 'ad a terrible time of it lately, and them babies allus coming.
+Ah, we poor women have more than our right to bear with!"
+
+"Poor mother!" said Esther, and, taking her mother's hand in hers, she
+passed her arm round her, drew her closer, and kissed her. "I know what he
+was; is he any worse now?"
+
+"Well, I think he drinks more, and is even rougher. It was only the other
+day, just as I was attending to his dinner--it was a nice piece of steak,
+and it looked so nice that I cut off a weany piece to taste. He sees me do
+it, and he cries out, 'Now then, guts, what are you interfering with my
+dinner for?' I says, 'I only cut off a tiny piece to taste.' 'Well, then,
+taste that,' he says, and strikes me clean between the eyes. Ah, yes,
+lucky for you to be in service; you've half forgot by now what we've to
+put up with 'ere."
+
+"You was always that soft with him, mother; he never touched me since I
+dashed the hot water in his face."
+
+"Sometimes I thinks I can bear it no longer, Esther, and long to go and
+drown meself. Jenny and Julia--you remember little Julia; she 'as grown up
+such a big girl, and is getting on so well--they are both at work now in
+the kitchen. Johnnie gives us a deal of trouble; he cannot tell a word of
+truth; father took off his strap the other day and beat him dreadful, but
+it ain't no use. If it wasn't for Jenny and Julia I don't think we should
+ever make both ends meet; but they works all day at the dogs, and at the
+warehouse their dogs is said to be neater and more lifelike than any
+other. Their poor fingers is worn away cramming the paper into the moulds;
+but they never complains, no more shouldn't I if he was a bit gentler and
+didn't take more than half of what he earns to the public-'ouse. I was
+glad you was away, Esther, for you allus was of an 'asty temper and
+couldn't 'ave borne it. I don't want to make my troubles seem worse than
+they be, but sometimes I think I will break up, 'special when I get to
+thinking what will become of us and all them children, money growing less
+and expenses increasing. I haven't told yer, but I daresay you have
+noticed that another one is coming. It is the children that breaks us poor
+women down altogether. Ah, well, yours be the hardest trouble, but you
+must put a brave face on it; we'll do the best we can; none of us can say
+no more."
+
+Mrs. Saunders wiped her eyes with the corner of her apron; Esther looked
+at her with her usual quiet, stubborn stare, and without further words
+mother and daughter went into the kitchen where the girls were at work. It
+was a long, low room, with one window looking on a small back-yard, at the
+back of which was the coal-hole, the dust-bin, and a small outhouse. There
+was a long table and a bench ran along the wall. The fireplace was on the
+left-hand side; the dresser stood against the opposite wall; and amid the
+poor crockery, piled about in every available space, were the toy dogs,
+some no larger than your hand, others almost as large as a small poodle.
+Jenny and Julia had been working busily for some days, and were now
+finishing the last few that remained of the order they had received from
+the shop they worked for. Three small children sat on the floor tearing
+the brown paper, which they handed as it was wanted to Jenny and Julia.
+The big girls leaned over the table in front of iron moulds, filling them
+with brown paper, pasting it down, tucking it in with strong and dexterous
+fingers.
+
+"Why, it is Esther!" said Jenny, the elder girl. "And, lorks, ain't she
+grand!--quite the lady. Why, we hardly knowed ye." And having kissed their
+sister circumspectly, careful not to touch the clothes they admired with
+their pasty fingers, they stood lost in contemplation, thrilled with
+consciousness of the advantage of service.
+
+Esther took Harry, a fine little boy of four, up in her arms, and asked
+him if he remembered her.
+
+"Naw, I don't think I do. Will oo put me down?"
+
+"But you do, Lizzie?" she said, addressing a girl of seven, whose bright
+red hair shone like a lamp in the gathering twilight.
+
+"Yes, you're my big sister; you've been away this year or more in
+service."
+
+"And you, Maggie, do you remember me too?"
+
+Maggie at first seemed doubtful, but after a moment's reflection she
+nodded her head vigorously.
+
+"Come, Esther, see how Julia is getting on," said Mrs. Saunders; "she
+makes her dogs nearly as fast as Jenny. She is still a bit careless in
+drawing the paper into the moulds. Well, just as I was speaking of it:
+'ere's a dog with one shoulder just 'arf the size of the other."
+
+"Oh, mother, I'm sure nobody'd never know the difference."
+
+"Wouldn't know the difference! Just look at the hanimal! Is it natural?
+Sich carelessness I never seed."
+
+"Esther, just look at Julia's dog," cried Jenny, "'e 'asn't got no more
+than 'arf a shoulder. It's lucky mother saw it, for if the manager'd seen
+it he'd have found something wrong with I don't know 'ow many more, and
+docked us maybe a shilling or more on the week's work."
+
+Julia began to cry.
+
+"Jenny is always down on me. She is jealous just because mother said I
+worked as fast as she did. If her work was overhauled--"
+
+"There are all my dogs there on the right-hand side of the dresser--I
+always 'as the right for my dogs--and if you find one there with an uneven
+shoulder I'll--"
+
+"Jennie is so fat that she likes everything like 'erself; that's why she
+stuffs so much paper into her dogs."
+
+It was little Ethel speaking from her corner, and her explanation of the
+excellence of Jenny's dogs, given with stolid childish gravity in the
+interval of tearing a large sheet of brown paper, made them laugh. But in
+the midst of the laughter thought of her great trouble came upon Esther.
+Mrs. Saunders noticed this, and a look of pity came into her eyes, and to
+make an end of the unseemly gaiety she took Julia's dog and told her that
+it must be put into the mould again. She cut the skin away, and helped to
+force the stiff paper over the edge of the mould.
+
+"Now," she said, "it is a dog; both shoulders is equal, and if it was a
+real dog he could walk."
+
+"Oh, bother!" cried Jenny, "I shan't be able to finish my last dozen this
+evening. I 'ave no more buttons for the eyes, and the black pins that
+Julia is a-using of for her little one won't do for this size."
+
+"Won't they give yer any at the shop? I was counting on the money they
+would bring to finish the week with."
+
+"No, we can't get no buttons in the shop: that's 'ome work, they says; and
+even if they 'ad them they wouldn't let us put them in there. That's 'ome
+work they says to everything; they is a that disagreeable lot."
+
+"But 'aven't you got sixpence, mother? and I'll run and get them."
+
+"No, I've run short."
+
+"But," said Esther, "I'll give you sixpence to get your buttons with."
+
+"Yes, that's it; give us sixpence, and yer shall have it back to-morrow if
+you are 'ere. How long are yer up for? If not, we'll send it."
+
+"I'm not going back just yet."
+
+"What, 'ave yer lost yer situation?"
+
+"No, no," said Mrs. Saunders, "Esther ain't well--she 'as come up for 'er
+'ealth; take the sixpence and run along."
+
+"May I go too?" said Julia. "I've been at work since eight, and I've only
+a few more dogs to do."
+
+"Yes, you may go with your sister. Run along; don't bother me any more,
+I've got to get your father's supper."
+
+When Jenny and Julia had left, Esther and Mrs. Saunders could talk freely;
+the other children were too young to understand.
+
+"There is times when 'e is well enough," said Mrs. Saunders, "and others
+when 'e is that awful. It is 'ard to know 'ow to get him, but 'e is to be
+got if we only knew 'ow. Sometimes 'tis most surprising how easy 'e do
+take things, and at others--well, as about that piece of steak that I was
+a-telling you of. Should you catch him in that humour 'e's as like as not
+to take ye by the shoulder and put you out; but if he be in a good humour
+'e's as like as not to say, 'Well, my gal, make yerself at 'ome.'"
+
+"He can but turn me out, I'll leave yer to speak to 'im, mother."
+
+"I'll do my best, but I don't answer for nothing. A nice bit of supper do
+make a difference in 'im, and as ill luck will 'ave it, I've nothing but a
+rasher, whereas if I only 'ad a bit of steak 'e'd brighten up the moment
+he clapt eyes on it and become that cheerful."
+
+"But, mother, if you think it will make a difference I can easily slip
+round to the butcher's and----"
+
+"Yes, get half a pound, and when it's nicely cooked and inside him it'll
+make all the difference. That will please him. But I don't like to see you
+spending your money--money that you'll want badly."
+
+"It can't be helped, mother. I shan't be above a minute or two away, and
+I'll bring back a pint of porter with the steak."
+
+Coming back she met Jenny and Julia, and when she told them her purchases
+they remarked significantly that they were now quite sure of a pleasant
+evening.
+
+"When he's done eating 'e'll go out to smoke his pipe with some of his
+chaps," said Jenny, "and we shall have the 'ouse to ourselves, and yer can
+tell us all about your situation. They keeps a butler and a footman, don't
+they? They must be grand folk. And what was the footman like? Was he very
+handsome? I've 'eard that they all is."
+
+"And you'll show us yer dresses, won't you?" said Julia. "How many 'ave
+you got, and 'ow did yer manage to save up enough money to buy such
+beauties, if they're all like that?"
+
+"This dress was given to me by Miss Mary."
+
+"Was it? She must be a real good 'un. I should like to go to service; I'm
+tired of making dogs; we have to work that 'ard, and it nearly all goes to
+the public; father drinks worse than ever."
+
+Mrs. Saunders approved of Esther's purchase; it was a beautiful bit of
+steak. The fire was raked up, and a few minutes after the meat was
+roasting on the gridiron. The clock continued its coarse ticking amid the
+rough plates on the dresser. Jenny and Julia hastened with their work,
+pressing the paper with nervous fingers into the moulds, calling sharply
+to the little group for what sized paper they required. Esther and Mrs.
+Saunders waited, full of apprehension, for the sound of a heavy tread in
+the passage. At last it came. Mrs. Saunders turned the meat, hoping that
+its savoury odour would greet his nostrils from afar, and that he would
+come to them mollified and amiable.
+
+"Hullo, Jim; yer are 'ome a bit earlier to-day. I'm not quite ready with
+yer supper."
+
+"I dunno that I am. Hullo, Esther! Up for the day? Smells damned nice,
+what you're cooking for me, missus. What is it?"
+
+"Bit of steak, Jim. It seems a beautiful piece. Hope it will eat tender."
+
+"That it will. I was afeard you would have nothing more than a rasher, and
+I'm that 'ungry."
+
+Jim Saunders was a stout, dark man about forty. He had not shaved for some
+days, his face was black with beard; his moustache was cut into bristle;
+around his short, bull neck he wore a ragged comforter, and his blue
+jacket was shabby and dusty, and the trousers were worn at the heels. He
+threw his basket into a corner, and then himself on the rough bench nailed
+against the wall, and there, without speaking another word, he lay
+sniffing the odour of the meat like an animal going to be fed. Suddenly a
+whiff from the beer jug came into his nostrils, and reaching out his rough
+hand he looked into the jug to assure himself he was not mistaken.
+
+"What's this?" he exclaimed; "a pint of porter! Yer are doing me pretty
+well this evening, I reckon. What's up?"
+
+"Nothing, Jim; nothing, dear, but just as Esther has come up we thought
+we'd try to make yer comfortable. It was Esther who fetched it; she 'as
+been doing pretty well, and can afford it."
+
+Jim looked at Esther in a sort of vague and brutal astonishment, and
+feeling he must say something, and not knowing well what, he said----
+
+"Well, 'ere's to your good health!" and he took a long pull at the jug.
+"Where did you get this?"
+
+"In Durham street, at the 'Angel.'"
+
+"I thought as much; they don't sell stuff like this at the 'Rose and
+Crown.' Well, much obliged to yer. I shall enjoy my bit of steak now; and
+I see a tater in the cinders. How are you getting on, old woman--is it
+nearly done? Yer know I don't like all the goodness burnt out of it."
+
+"It isn't quite done yet, Jim; a few minutes more----"
+
+Jim sniffed in eager anticipation, and then addressed himself to Esther.
+
+"Well, they seem to do yer pretty well down there. My word, what a toff
+yer are! Quite a lady.... There's nothing like service for a girl; I've
+always said so. Eh, Jenny, wouldn't yer like to go into service, like yer
+sister? Looks better, don't it, than making toy dogs at three-and-sixpence
+the gross?"
+
+"I should just think it was. I wish I could. As soon as Maggie can take my
+place, I mean to try."
+
+"It was the young lady of the 'ouse that gave 'er that nice dress," said
+Julia. "My eye! she must have been a favourite."
+
+At that moment Mrs. Saunders picked the steak from the gridiron, and
+putting it on a nice hot plate she carried it in her apron to Jim, saying,
+"Mind yer 'ands, it is burning 'ot."
+
+Jim fed in hungry silence, the children watching, regretting that none of
+them ever had suppers like that. He didn't speak until he had put away the
+better part of the steak; then, after taking a long pull at the jug of
+beer, he said--
+
+"I 'aven't enjoyed a bit of food like that this many a day; I was that
+beat when I came in, and it does do one good to put a piece of honest meat
+into one's stomach after a 'ard day's work!"
+
+Then, prompted by a sudden thought, he complimented Esther on her looks,
+and then, with increasing interest, inquired what kind of people she was
+staying with. But Esther was in no humour for conversation, and answered
+his questions briefly without entering into details. Her reserve only
+increased his curiosity, which fired up at the first mention of the
+race-horses.
+
+"I scarcely know much about them. I only used to see them passing through
+the yard as they went to exercise on the downs. There was always a lot of
+talk about them in the servants' hall, but I didn't notice it. They were a
+great trouble to Mrs. Barfield--I told you, mother, that she was one of
+ourselves, didn't I?"
+
+A look of contempt passed over Jim's face, and he said--
+
+"We've quite enough talk 'ere about the Brethren; give them a rest. What
+about the 'orses? Did they win any races? Yer can't 'ave missed 'earing
+that."
+
+"Yes, Silver Braid won the Stewards' Cup."
+
+"Silver Braid was one of your horses?"
+
+"Yes, Mr. Barfield won thousands and thousands, everyone in Shoreham won
+something, and a ball for the servants was given in the Gardens."
+
+"And you never thought of writing to me about it! I could have 'ad thirty
+to one off Bill Short. One pound ten to a bob! And yer never thought it
+worth while to send me the tip. I'm blowed! Girls aren't worth a damn....
+Thirty to one off Bill Short--he'd have laid it. I remember seeing the
+price quoted in all the papers. Thirty to one taken and hoffered. If you
+had told me all yer knowed I might 'ave gone 'alf a quid--fifteen pun to
+'alf a quid! as much as I'd earn in three months slaving eight and ten
+hours a day, paint-pot on 'and about them blooming engines. Well, there's
+no use crying over what's done--sich a chance won't come again, but
+something else may. What are they going to do with the 'orse this
+autumn--did yer 'ear that?"
+
+"I think I 'eard that he was entered for the Cambridgeshire, but if I
+remember rightly, Mr. Leopold--that's the butler, not his real name, but
+what we call him--"
+
+"Ah, yes; I know; after the Baron. Now what do 'e say? I reckon 'e knows.
+I should like to 'ave 'alf-an-hour's talk with your Mr. Leopold. What do
+'e say? For what 'e says, unless I'm pretty well mistaken, is worth
+listening to. A man wouldn't be a-wasting 'is time in listening to 'im.
+What do 'e say?"
+
+"Mr. Leopold never says much. He's the only one the Gaffer ever confides
+in. 'Tis said they are as thick as thieves, so they say. Mr. Leopold was
+his confidential servant when the Gaffer--that's the squire--was a
+bachelor."
+
+Jim chuckled. "Yes, I think I know what kind of man your Mr. Leopold is
+like. But what did 'e say about the Cambridgeshire?"
+
+"He only laughed a little once, and said he didn't think the 'orse would
+do much good in the autumn races--no, not races, that isn't the word."
+
+"Handicaps?"
+
+"Yes, that's it. But there's no relying on what Mr. Leopold says--he never
+says what he really means. But I 'eard William, that's the footman--"
+
+"What are you stopping for? What did yer 'ear 'im say?"
+
+"That he intends to have something on next spring."
+
+"Did he say any race? Did he say the City and Sub.?"
+
+"Yes, that was the race he mentioned."
+
+"I thought that would be about the length and the breadth of it," Jim
+said, as he took up his knife and fork. There was only a small portion of
+the beef-steak left, and this he ate gluttonously, and, finishing the last
+remaining beer, he leaned back in the happiness of repletion. He crammed
+tobacco into a dirty clay, with a dirtier finger-nail, and said--
+
+"I'd be uncommon glad to 'ear how he is getting on. When are you going
+back? Up for the day only?"
+
+Esther did not answer, and Jim looked inquiringly as he reached across the
+table for the matches. The decisive moment had arrived, and Mrs. Saunders
+said--
+
+"Esther ain't a-going back; leastways--"
+
+"Not going back! You don't mean that she ain't contented in her
+situation--that she 'as--"
+
+"Esther ain't going back no more," Mrs. Saunders answered, incautiously.
+"Look ee 'ere, Jim--"
+
+"Out with it, old woman--no 'umbug! What is it all about? Ain't going back
+to 'er sitooation, and where she 'as been treated like that--just look at
+the duds she 'as got on."
+
+The evening was darkening rapidly, and the firelight flickered over the
+back of the toy dogs piled up on the dresser. Jim had lit his pipe, and
+the acrid and warm odour of quickly-burning tobacco overpowered the smell
+of grease and the burnt skin of the baked potato, a fragment of which
+remained on the plate; only the sickly flavour of drying paste was
+distinguishable in the reek of the short black clay which the man held
+firmly between his teeth. Esther sat by the fire, her hands crossed over
+her knees, no signs of emotion on her sullen, plump face. Mrs. Saunders
+stood on the other side of Esther, between her and the younger children,
+now quarrelling among themselves, and her face was full of fear as she
+watched her husband anxiously.
+
+"Now, then, old woman, blurt it out!" he said. "What is it? Can it be the
+girl 'as lost her sitooation--got the sack? Yes, I see that's about the
+cut of it. Her beastly temper! So they couldn't put up with it in the
+country any more than I could mesel'. Well, it's 'er own look-out! If she
+can afford to chuck up a place like that, so much the better for 'er.
+Pity, though; she might 'ave put me up to many a good thing."
+
+"It ain't that, Jim. The girl is in trouble."
+
+"Wot do yer say? Esther in trouble? Well, that's the best bit I've heard
+this long while. I always told ye that the religious ones were just the
+same as the others--a bit more hypocritical, that's all. So she that
+wouldn't 'ave nothing to do with such as was Mrs. Dunbar 'as got 'erself
+into trouble! Well I never! But 'tis just what I always suspected. The
+goody-goody sort are the worst. So she 'as got 'erself into trouble! Well,
+she'll 'ave to get 'erself out of it."
+
+"Now, Jim, dear, yer mustn't be 'ard on 'er; she could tell a very
+different story if she wished it, but yer know what she is. There she sits
+like a block of marble, and won't as much as say a word in 'er own
+defence."
+
+"But I don't want 'er to speak. I don't care, it's nothing to me; I only
+laughed because--"
+
+"Jim, dear, it is something to all of us. What we thought was that you
+might let her stop 'ere till her time was come to go to the 'orspital."
+
+"Ah, that's it, is it? That was the meaning of the 'alf-pound of steak and
+the pint of porter, was it. I thought there was something hup. So she
+wants to stop 'ere, do she? As if there wasn't enough already! Well, I be
+blowed if she do! A nice thing, too; a girl can't go away to service
+without coming back to her respectable 'ome in trouble--in trouble, she
+calls it. Now, I won't 'ave it; there's enough 'ere as it is, and another
+coming, worse luck. We wants no bastards 'ere.... And a nice example, too,
+for the other children! No, I won't 'ave it!"
+
+Jenny and Julia looked curiously at Esther, who sat quite still, her face
+showing no sign of emotion. Mrs. Saunders turned towards her, a pitying
+look on her face, saying clearly, "You see, my poor girl, how matters
+stand; I can do nothing."
+
+The girl, although she did not raise her eyes, understood what was passing
+in her mother's mind, for there was a grave deliberativeness in the manner
+in which she rose from the chair.
+
+But just as the daughter had guessed what was passing in the mother's
+mind, so did the mother guess what was passing in the daughter's. Mrs.
+Saunders threw herself before Esther, saying, "Oh, no, Esther, wait a
+moment; 'e won't be 'ard on 'ee." Then turning to her husband, "Yer don't
+understand, Jim. It is only for a little time."
+
+"No, I tell yer. No, I won't 'ave it! There be too many 'ere as it is."
+
+"Only a little while, Jim."
+
+"No. And those who ain't wanted 'ad better go at once--that's my advice to
+them. The place is as full of us that we can 'ardly turn round as it is.
+No, I won't 'ear of it!"
+
+"But, Jim, Esther is quite willing to pay her way; she's saved a good
+little sum of money, and could afford to pay us ten shillings a week for
+board and the parlour."
+
+A perplexed look came on Jim's face.
+
+"Why didn't yer tell me that afore? Of course I don't wish to be 'ard on
+the girl, as yer 'ave just heard me say. Ten shillings a week for her
+board and the parlour--that seems fair enough; and if it's any convenience
+to 'er to remain, I'm sure we'll be glad to 'ave 'er. I'll say right glad,
+too. We was always good friends, Esther, wasn't we, though ye wasn't one
+of my own?" So saying, Jim held out his hand.
+
+Esther tried to pass by her mother. "I don't want to stop where I'm not
+wanted; I wants no one's charity. Let me go, mother."
+
+"No, no, Esther. 'Aven't yer 'eard what 'e says? Ye are my child if you
+ain't 'is, and it would break my 'eart, that it would, to see you go away
+among strangers. Yer place is among yer own people, who'll look after
+you."
+
+"Now, then, Esther, why should there be ill feeling. I didn't mean any
+'arm. There's a lot of us 'ere, and I've to think of the interests of my
+own. But for all that I should be main sorry to see yer take yer money
+among strangers, where you wouldn't get no value for it. You'd better
+stop. I'm sorry for what I said. Ain't that enough for yer?"
+
+"Jim, Jim, dear, don't say no more; leave 'er to me. Esther, for my sake
+stop with us. You are in trouble, and it is right for you to stop with me.
+Jim 'as said no more than the truth. With all the best will in the world
+we couldn't afford to keep yer for nothing, but since yer can pay yer way,
+it is yer duty to stop. Think, Esther, dear, think. Go and shake 'ands
+with 'im, and I'll go and make yer up a bed on the sofa."
+
+"There's no bloody need for 'er to shake my 'and if she don't like," Jim
+replied, and he pulled doggedly at his pipe.
+
+Esther tried, but her fierce and heavy temper held her back. She couldn't
+go to her father for reconciliation, and the matter might have ended quite
+differently, but suddenly, without another word, Jim put on his hat and
+went out to join "his chaps" who were waiting for him about the
+public-house, close to the cab-rank in the Vauxhall Bridge Road. The door
+was hardly closed behind him when the young children laughed and ran about
+joyously, and Jenny and Julia went over to Esther and begged her to stop.
+
+"Of course she'll stop," said Mrs. Saunders. "And now, Esther, come along
+and help me to make you up a bed in the parlour."
+
+
+
+
+XIV
+
+
+Esther was fast asleep next morning when Mrs. Saunders came into the
+parlour. Mrs. Saunders stood looking at her, and Esther turned suddenly on
+the sofa and said----
+
+"What time is it, mother?"
+
+"It's gone six; but don't you get up. You're your own mistress whilst
+you're here; you pays for what you 'as."
+
+"I can't afford them lazy habits. There's plenty of work here, and I must
+help you with some of it."
+
+"Plenty of work here, that's right enough. But why should you bother, and
+you nearly seven months gone? I daresay you feels that 'eavy that you
+never care to get out of your chair. But they says that them who works up
+to the last 'as the easiest time in the end. Not that I've found it so."
+
+The conversation paused. Esther threw her legs over the side of the sofa,
+and still wrapped in the blanket, sat looking at her mother.
+
+"You can't be over-comfortable on that bit of sofa," said Mrs. Saunders.
+
+"Lor, I can manage right enough, if that was all."
+
+"You is that cast down, Esther; you mustn't give way. Things sometimes
+turns out better than one expects."
+
+"You never found they did, mother."
+
+"Perhaps I didn't, but that says nothing for others. We must bear up as
+best we can."
+
+One word led to another, and very soon Esther was telling her mother the
+whole tale of her misfortune--all about William, the sweepstakes, the ball
+at the Shoreham Gardens, the walks about the farm and hillside.
+
+"Service is no place for a girl who wants to live as we used to live when
+father was alive--no service that I've seen. I see that plain enough.
+Mistress was one of the Brethren like ourselves, and she had to put up
+with betting and drinking and dancing, and never a thought of the Lord.
+There was no standing out against it. They call you Creeping Jesus if you
+say your prayers, and you can't say them with a girl laughing or singing
+behind your back, so you think you'll say them to yourself in bed, but
+sleep comes sooner than you expect, and so you slips out of the habit.
+Then the drinking. We was brought up teetotal, but they're always pressing
+it upon you, and to please him I said I would drink the 'orse's 'ealth.
+That's how it began.... You don't know what it is, mother; you only knew
+God-fearing men until you married him. We aren't all good like you,
+mother. But I thought no harm, indeed I didn't."
+
+"A girl can't know what a man is thinking of, and we takes the worst for
+the best."
+
+"I don't say that I was altogether blameless but--"
+
+"You didn't know he was that bad."
+
+Esther hesitated.
+
+"I knew he was like other men. But he told me--he promised me he'd marry
+me."
+
+Mrs. Saunders did not answer, and Esther said, "You don't believe I'm
+speaking the truth."
+
+"Yes, I do, dearie. I was only thinking. You're my daughter; no mother had
+a better daughter. There never was a better girl in this world."
+
+"I was telling you, mother--"
+
+"But I don't want no telling that my Esther ain't a bad girl."
+
+Mrs. Saunders sat nodding her head, a sweet, uncritical mother; and Esther
+understood how unselfishly her mother loved her, and how simply she
+thought of how she might help her in her trouble. Neither spoke, and
+Esther continued dressing.
+
+"You 'aven't told me what you think of your room. It looks pretty, don't
+you think? I keeps it as nice as I can. Jenny hung up them pictures. They
+livens it up a bit," she said, pointing to the coloured supplements, from
+the illustrated papers, on the wall. "The china shepherd and shepherdess,
+you know; they was at Barnstaple."
+
+When Esther was dressed, she and Mrs. Saunders knelt down and said a
+prayer together. Then Esther said she would make up her room, and when
+that was done she insisted on helping her mother with the housework.
+
+In the afternoon she sat with her sisters, helping them with their dogs,
+folding the paper into the moulds, pasting it down, or cutting the skins
+into the requisite sizes. About five, when the children had had their tea,
+she and her mother went for a short walk. Very often they strolled through
+Victoria Station, amused by the bustle of the traffic, or maybe they
+wandered down the Buckingham Palace Road, attracted by the shops. And
+there was a sad pleasure in these walks. The elder woman had borne years
+of exceeding trouble, and felt her strength failing under her burdens,
+which instead of lightening were increasing; the younger woman was full of
+nervous apprehension for the future and grief for the past. But they loved
+each other deeply. Esther threw herself in the way to protect her mother,
+whether at a dangerous crossing or from the heedlessness of the crowd at a
+corner, and often a passer-by turned his head and looked after them,
+attracted by the solicitude which the younger woman showed for the elder.
+In those walks very little was said. They walked in silence, slipping now
+and then into occasional speech, and here and there a casual allusion or a
+broken sentence would indicate what was passing in their minds.
+
+One day some flannel and shirts in a window caught Mrs. Saunder's eye, and
+she said--
+
+"It is time, Esther, you thought about your baby clothes. One must be
+prepared; one never knows if one will go one's full time."
+
+The words came upon Esther with something of a shock, helping her to
+realise the imminence of her trouble.
+
+"You must have something by you, dear; one never knows how it is going to
+turn out; even I who have been through it do feel that nervous. I looks
+round the kitchen when I'm taken with the pains, and I says, 'I may never
+see this room again.'"
+
+The words were said in an undertone to Esther, and the shop-woman turned
+to get down the ready-made things which Mrs. Saunders had asked to see.
+
+"Here," said the shopwoman, "is the gown, longcloth, one-and-sixpence;
+here is the flannel, one-and-sixpence; and here is the little shirt,
+sixpence."
+
+"You must have these to go on with, dear, and if the baby lives you'll
+want another set."
+
+"Oh, mother, of course he'll live; why shouldn't he?"
+
+Even the shopwoman smiled, and Mrs. Saunders, addressing the shopwoman,
+said--
+
+"Them that knows nothing about it is allus full of 'ope."
+
+The shopwoman raised her eyes, sighed, and inquired sympathetically if
+this was the young lady's first confinement.
+
+Mrs. Saunders nodded and sighed, and then the shopwoman asked Mrs.
+Saunders if she required any baby clothes. Mrs. Saunders said she had all
+she required. The parcel was made up, and they were preparing to leave,
+when Esther said--
+
+"I may as well buy the material and make another set--it will give me
+something to do in the afternoons. I think I should like to make them."
+
+We have some first-rate longcloth at sixpence-half-penny a yard."
+
+"You might take three yards, Esther; if anything should happen to yer
+bairn it will always come in useful. And you had better take three yards
+of flannel. How much is yer flannel?"
+
+"We have some excellent flannel," said the woman, lifting down a long,
+heavy package in dull yellow paper; "this is ten-pence a yard. You will
+want a finer longcloth for the little shirts."
+
+And every afternoon Esther sat in the parlour by the window, seeing, when
+she raised her eyes from the sewing, the low brick street full of
+children, and hearing the working women calling from the open doors or
+windows; and as she worked at the baby clothes, never perhaps to be worn,
+her heart sank at the long prospect that awaited her, the end of which she
+could not see, for it seemed to reach to the very end of her life. In
+these hours she realised in some measure the duties that life held in
+store, and it seemed to her that they exceeded her strength. Never would
+she be able to bring him up--he would have no one to look to but her. She
+never imagined other than that her child would be a boy. The task was
+clearly more than she could perform, and in despair she thought it would
+be better for it to die. What would happen if she remained out of a
+situation? Her father would not have her at home, that she knew well
+enough. What should she do, and the life of another depending on her? She
+would never see William again--that was certain. He had married a lady,
+and, were they to meet, he would not look at her. Her temper grew hot, and
+the memory of the injustice of which she had been a victim pressed upon
+her. But when vain anger passed away she thought of her baby, anticipating
+the joy she would experience when he held out tiny hands to her, and that,
+too, which she would feel when he laid an innocent cheek to hers; and her
+dream persisting, she saw him learning a trade, going to work in the
+morning and coming back to her in the evening, proud in the accomplishment
+of something done, of good money honestly earned.
+
+She thought a great deal, too, of her poor mother, who was looking
+strangely weak and poorly, and whose condition was rendered worse by her
+nervous fears that she would not get through this confinement. For the
+doctor had told Mrs. Saunders that the next time it might go hard with
+her; and in this house, her husband growing more reckless and drunken, it
+was altogether a bad look-out, and she might die for want of a little
+nourishment or a little care. Unfortunately they would both be down at the
+same time, and it was almost impossible that Esther should be well in time
+to look after her mother. That brute! It was wrong to think of her father
+so, but he seemed to be without mercy for any of them. He had come in
+yesterday half-boozed, having kept back part of his money--he had come in
+tramping and hiccuping.
+
+"Now, then, old girl, out with it! I must have a few halfpence; my chaps
+is waiting for me, and I can't be looking down their mouths with nothing
+in my pockets."
+
+"I only have a few halfpence to get the children a bit of dinner; if I
+give them to you they'll have nothing to eat."
+
+"Oh, the children can eat anything; I want beer. If yer 'aven't money,
+make it."
+
+Mrs. Saunders said that if he had any spare clothes she would take them
+round the corner. He only answered--
+
+"Well, if I 'aven't a spare waistcoat left just take some of yer own
+things. I tell yer I want beer, and I mean to have some."
+
+Then, with his fist raised, he came at his poor wife, ordering her to take
+one of the sheets from the bed and "make money," and would have struck her
+if Esther had not come between them and, with her hand in her pocket,
+said, "Be quiet, father; I'll give you the money you want."
+
+She had done the same before, and, if needs be, she would do so again. She
+could not see her mother struck, perhaps killed by that brute; her first
+duty was to save her mother, but these constant demands on her little
+savings filled her with terror. She would want every penny; the ten
+shillings he had already had from her might be the very sum required to
+put her on her feet again, and send her in search of a situation where she
+would be able to earn money for the boy. But if this extortion continued
+she did not know what she would do, and that night she prayed that God
+might not delay the birth of her child.
+
+
+
+
+XV
+
+
+"I wish, mother, you was going to the hospital with me; it would save a
+lot of expense and you'd be better cared for."
+
+"I'd like to be with you, dearie, but I can't leave my 'ome, all these
+young children about and no one to give an order. I must stop where I am.
+But I've been intending to tell you--it is time that you was thinking
+about yer letter."
+
+"What letter, mother?"
+
+"They don't take you without a letter from one of the subscribers. If I
+was you, now that the weather is fine and you have strength for the walk,
+I'd go up to Queen Charlotte's. It is up the Edgware Road way, I think.
+What do you think about to-morrow?"
+
+"To-morrow's Sunday."
+
+"That makes no matter, them horspitals is open."
+
+"I'll go to-morrow when we have washed up."
+
+On Friday Esther had had to give her father more money for drink. She gave
+him two shillings, and that made a sovereign that he had had from her. On
+Saturday night he had been brought home helplessly drunk long after
+midnight, and next morning one of the girls had to fetch him a drop of
+something to pull him together. He had lain in bed until dinner-time,
+swearing he would brain anyone who made the least noise. Even the Sunday
+dinner, a nice beef-steak pudding, hardly tempted him, and he left the
+table saying that if he could find Tom Carter they would take a penny boat
+and go for a blow on the river. The whole family waited for his departure.
+But he lingered, talked inconsequently, and several times Mrs. Saunders
+and the children gave up hope. Esther sat without a word. He called her a
+sulky brute, and, snatching up his hat, left the house. The moment he was
+gone the children began to chatter like birds. Esther put on her hat and
+jacket.
+
+"I'm going, mother."
+
+"Well, take care of yourself. Good luck to you."
+
+Esther smiled sadly. But the beautiful weather melted on her lips, her
+lungs swelled with the warm air, and she noticed the sparrow that flew
+across the cab rank, and saw the black dot pass down a mews and disappear
+under the eaves. It was a warm day in the middle of April, a mist of green
+had begun in the branches of the elms of the Green Park; and in Park Lane,
+in all the balconies and gardens, wherever nature could find roothold, a
+spray of gentle green met the eye. There was music, too, in the air, the
+sound of fifes and drums, and all along the roadway as far as she could
+see the rapid movement of assembling crowds. A procession with banners was
+turning the corner of the Edgware Road, and the policeman had stopped the
+traffic to allow it to pass. The principal banner blew out blue and gold
+in the wind, and the men that bore the poles walked with strained backs
+under the weight; the music changed, opinions about the objects of the
+demonstration were exchanged, and it was some time before Esther could
+gain the policeman's attention. At last the conductor rang his bell, the
+omnibus started, and gathering courage she asked the way. It seemed to her
+that every one was noticing her, and fearing to be overheard she spoke so
+low that the policeman understood her to say Charlotte Street. At that
+moment an omnibus drew up close beside them.
+
+"Charlotte Street, Charlotte Street," said the policeman, "there's
+Charlotte Street, Bloomsbury." Before Esther could answer he had turned to
+the conductor. "You don't know any Charlotte Street about here, do you?"
+
+"No, I don't. But can't yer see that it ain't no Charlotte Street she
+wants, but Queen Charlotte's Hospital? And ye'd better lose no time in
+directing her."
+
+A roar of coarse laughter greeted this pleasantry, and burning with shame
+she hurried down the Edgware Road. But she had not gone far before she had
+to ask again, and she scanned the passers-by seeking some respectable
+woman, or in default an innocent child.
+
+She came at last to an ugly desert place. There was the hospital, square,
+forbidding; and opposite a tall, lean building with long grey columns.
+Esther rang, and the great door, some fifteen feet high, was opened by a
+small boy.
+
+"I want to see the secretary."
+
+"Will you come this way?"
+
+She was shown into a waiting-room, and while waiting she looked at the
+religious prints on the walls. A lad of fifteen or sixteen came in. He
+said--
+
+"You want to see the secretary?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"But I'm afraid you can't see him; he's out."
+
+"I have come a long way; is there no one else I can see?"
+
+"Yes, you can see me--I'm his clerk. Have you come to be confined?"
+
+Esther answered that she had.
+
+"But," said the boy, "you are not in labour; we never take anyone in
+before."
+
+"I do not expect to be confined for another month. I came to make
+arrangements."
+
+"You've got a letter?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Then you must get a letter from one of the subscribers."
+
+"But I do not know any."
+
+"You can have a book of their names and addresses."
+
+"But I know no one."
+
+"You needn't know them. You can go and call. Take those that live
+nearest--that's the way it is done."
+
+"Then will you give me the book?"
+
+"I'll go and get one."
+
+The boy returned a moment after with a small book, for which he demanded a
+shilling. Since she had come to London her hand had never been out of her
+pocket. She had her money with her; she did not dare leave it at home on
+account of her father. The clerk looked out the addresses for her and she
+tried to remember them--two were in Cumberland Place, another was in
+Bryanstone Square. In Cumberland Place she was received by an elderly lady
+who said she did not wish to judge anyone, but it was her invariable
+practice to give letters only to married women. There was a delicate smell
+of perfume in the room; the lady stirred the fire and lay back in her
+armchair. Once or twice Esther tried to withdraw, but the lady, although
+unswervingly faithful to her principles, seemed not indifferent to
+Esther's story, and asked her many questions.
+
+"I don't see what interest all that can be to you, as you ain't going to
+give me a letter," Esther answered.
+
+The next house she called at the lady was not at home, but she was
+expected back presently, and the maid servant asked her to take a seat in
+the hall. But when Esther refused information about her troubles she was
+called a stuck-up thing who deserved all she got, and was told there was
+no use her waiting. At the next place she was received by a footman who
+insisted on her communicating her business to him. Then he said he would
+see if his master was in. He wasn't in; he must have just gone out. The
+best time to find him was before half-past ten in the morning.
+
+"He'll be sure to do all he can for you--he always do for the good-looking
+ones. How did it all happen?"
+
+"What business is that of yours? I don't ask your business."
+
+"Well, you needn't turn that rusty."
+
+At that moment the master entered. He asked Esther to come into his study.
+He was a tall, youngish-looking man of three or four-and-thirty, with
+bright eyes and hair, and there was in his voice and manner a kindness
+that impressed Esther. She wished, however, that she had seen his mother
+instead of him, for she was more than ever ashamed of her condition. He
+seemed genuinely sorry for her, and regretted that he had given all his
+tickets away. Then a thought struck him, and he wrote a letter to one of
+his friends, a banker in Lincoln's Inn Fields. This gentleman, he said,
+was a large subscriber to the hospital, and would certainly give her the
+letter she required. He hoped that Esther would get through her trouble
+all right.
+
+The visit brought a little comfort into the girl's heart; and thinking of
+his kind eyes she walked slowly, inquiring out her way until she got back
+to the Marble Arch, and stood looking down the long Bayswater Road. The
+lamps were beginning in the light, and the tall houses towered above the
+sunset. Esther watched the spectral city, and some sensation of the poetry
+of the hour must have stolen into her heart, for she turned into the Park,
+choosing to walk there. Upon its dim green grey the scattered crowds were
+like strips of black tape. Here and there by the railings the tape had
+been wound up in a black ball, and the peg was some democratic orator,
+promising poor human nature unconditional deliverance from evil. Further
+on were heard sounds from a harmonium, and hymns were being sung, and in
+each doubting face there was something of the perplexing, haunting look
+which the city wore.
+
+A chill wind was blowing. Winter had returned with the night, but the
+instinct of spring continued in the branches. The deep, sweet scent of the
+hyacinth floated along the railings, and the lovers that sat with their
+arms about each other on every seat were of Esther's own class. She would
+have liked to have called them round her and told them her miserable
+story, so that they might profit by her experience.
+
+
+
+
+XVI
+
+
+No more than three weeks now remained between her and the dreaded day. She
+had hoped to spend them with her mother, who was timorous and desponding,
+and stood in need of consolation. But this was not to be; her father's
+drunkenness continued, and daily he became more extortionate in his
+demands for money. Esther had not six pounds left, and she felt that she
+must leave. It had come to this, that she doubted if she were to stay on
+that the clothes on her back might not be taken from her. Mrs. Saunders
+was of the same opinion, and she urged Esther to go. But scruples
+restrained her.
+
+"I can't bring myself to leave you, mother; something tells me I should
+stay with you. It is dreadful to be parted from you. I wish you was coming
+to the hospital; you'd be far safer there than at home."
+
+"I know that, dearie; but where's the good in talking about it? It only
+makes it harder to bear. You know I can't leave. It is terrible hard, as
+you says." Mrs. Saunders held her apron to her eyes and cried. "You have
+always been a good girl, never a better--my one consolation since your
+poor father died."
+
+"Don't cry, mother," said Esther; "the Lord will watch over us, and we
+shall both pray for each other. In about a month, dear, we shall be both
+quite well, and you'll bless my baby, and I shall think of the time when I
+shall put him into your arms."
+
+"I hope so, Esther; I hope so, but I am full of fears. I'm sore afraid
+that we shall never see one another again--leastways on this earth."
+
+"Oh, mother, dear, yer mustn't talk like that; you'll break my heart, that
+you will."
+
+The cab that took Esther to her lodging cost half-a-crown, and this waste
+of money frightened her thrifty nature, inherited through centuries of
+working folk. The waste, however, had ceased at last, and it was none too
+soon, she thought, as she sat in the room she had taken near the hospital,
+in a little eight-roomed house, kept by an old woman whose son was a
+bricklayer.
+
+It was at the end of the week, one afternoon, as Esther was sitting alone
+in her room, that there came within her a great and sudden shock--life
+seemed to be slipping from her, and she sat for some minutes quite unable
+to move. She knew that her time had come, and when the pain ceased she
+went downstairs to consult Mrs. Jones.
+
+"Hadn't I better go to the hospital now, Mrs. Jones?"
+
+"Not just yet, my dear; them is but the first labour pains; plenty of time
+to think of the hospital; we shall see how you are in a couple of hours."
+
+"Will it last so long as that?"
+
+"You'll be lucky if you get it over before midnight. I have been down for
+longer than that."
+
+"Do you mind my stopping in the kitchen with you? I feel frightened when
+I'm alone."
+
+"No, I'll be glad of your company. I'll get you some tea presently."
+
+"I could not touch anything. Oh, this is dreadful!" she exclaimed, and she
+walked to and fro holding her sides, balancing herself dolefully. Often
+Mrs. Jones stopped in her work about the range and said, looking at her,
+"I know what it is, I have been through it many a time--we all must--it is
+our earthly lot." About seven o'clock Esther was clinging to the table,
+and with pain so vivid on her face that Mrs. Jones laid aside the sausages
+she was cooking and approached the suffering girl.
+
+"What! is it so bad as all that?"
+
+"Oh," she said, "I think I'm dying, I cannot stand up; give me a chair,
+give me a chair!" and she sank down upon it, leaning across the table, her
+face and neck bathed in a cold sweat.
+
+"John will have to get his supper himself; I'll leave these sausages on
+the hob, and run upstairs and put on my bonnet. The things you intend to
+bring with you, the baby clothes, are made up in a bundle, aren't they?"
+
+"Yes, yes."
+
+Little Mrs. Jones came running down; she threw a shawl over Esther, and it
+was astonishing what support she lent to the suffering girl, calling on
+her the whole time to lean on her and not to be afraid. "Now then, dear,
+you must keep your heart up, we have only a few yards further to go."
+
+"You are too good, you are too kind," Esther said, and she leaned against
+the wall, and Mrs. Jones rang the bell.
+
+"Keep up your spirits; to-morrow it will be all over. I will come round
+and see how you are."
+
+The door opened. The porter rang the bell, and a sister came running down.
+
+"Come, come, take my arm," she said, "and breathe hard as you are
+ascending the stairs. Come along, you mustn't loiter."
+
+On the second landing a door was thrown open, and she found herself in a
+room full of people, eight or nine young men and women.
+
+"What! in there? and all those people?" said Esther.
+
+"Of course; those are the midwives and the students."
+
+She saw that the screams she had heard in the passage came from a bed on
+the left-hand side. A woman lay there huddled up. In the midst of her
+terror Esther was taken behind a screen by the sister who had brought her
+upstairs and quickly undressed. She was clothed in a chemise a great deal
+too big for her, and a jacket which was also many sizes too large. She
+remembered hearing the sister say so at the time. Both windows were wide
+open, and as she walked across the room she noticed the basins on the
+floor, the lamp on the round table, and the glint of steel instruments.
+
+The students and the nurses were behind her; she knew they were eating
+sweets, for she heard a young man ask the young women if they would have
+any more fondants. Their chatter and laughter jarred on her nerves; but at
+that moment her pains began again and she saw the young man whom she had
+seen handing the sweets approaching her bedside.
+
+"Oh, no, not him, not him!" she cried to the nurse. "Not him, not him! he
+is too young! Do not let him come near me!"
+
+They laughed loudly, and she buried her head in the pillow, overcome with
+pain and shame; and when she felt him by her she tried to rise from the
+bed.
+
+"Let me go! take me away! Oh, you are all beasts!"
+
+"Come, come, no nonsense!" said the nurse; "you can't have what you like;
+they are here to learn;" and when he had tried the pains she heard the
+midwife say that it wasn't necessary to send for the doctor. Another said
+that it would be all over in about three hours' time. "An easy
+confinement, I should say. The other will be more interesting...." Then
+they talked of the plays they had seen, and those they wished to see. A
+discussion arose regarding the merits of a shilling novel which every one
+was reading, and then Esther heard a stampede of nurses, midwives, and
+students in the direction of the window. A German band had come into the
+street.
+
+"Is that the way to leave your patient, sister?" said the student who sat
+by Esther's bed, a good-looking boy with a fair, plump face. Esther looked
+into his clear blue, girl-like eyes, wondered, and turned away for shame.
+
+The sister stopped her imitation of a popular comedian, and said, "Oh,
+she's all right; if they were all like her there'd be very little use our
+coming here."
+
+"Unfortunately that's just what they are," said another student, a stout
+fellow with a pointed red beard, the ends of which caught the light.
+Esther's eyes often went to those stubble ends, and she hated him for his
+loud voice and jocularity. One of the midwives, a woman with a long nose
+and small grey eyes, seemed to mock her, and Esther hoped that this woman
+would not come near her. She felt that she could not bear her touch. There
+was something sinister in her face, and Esther was glad when her
+favourite, a little blond woman with wavy flaxen hair, came and asked her
+if she felt better. She looked a little like the young student who still
+sat by her bedside, and Esther wondered if they were brother and sister,
+and then she thought that they were sweethearts.
+
+Soon after a bell rang, and the students went down to supper, the nurse in
+charge promising to warn them if any change should take place. The last
+pains had so thoroughly exhausted her that she had fallen into a doze. But
+she could hear the chatter of the nurses so clearly that she did not
+believe herself asleep. And in this film of sleep reality was distorted,
+and the unsuccessful operation which the nurses were discussing Esther
+understood to be a conspiracy against her life. She awoke, listened, and
+gradually sense of the truth returned to her. She was in the hospital....
+The nurses were talking of some one who had died last week.... That poor
+woman in the other bed seemed to suffer dreadfully. Would she live through
+it? Would she herself live to see the morning? How long the time, how
+fearful the place! If the nurses would only stop talking.... The pains
+would soon begin again.... It was awful to lie listening, waiting. The
+windows were open, and the mocking gaiety of the street was borne in on
+the night wind. Then there came a trampling of feet and sound of voices in
+the passage--the students and nurses were coming up from supper; and at
+the same moment the pains began to creep up from her knees. One of the
+young men said that her time had not come. The woman with the sinister
+look that Esther dreaded, held a contrary opinion. The point was argued,
+and, interested in the question, the crowd came from the window and
+collected round the disputants. The young man expounded much medical and
+anatomical knowledge; the nurses listened with the usual deference of
+women.
+
+Suddenly the discussion was interrupted by a scream from Esther; it seemed
+to her that she was being torn asunder, that life was going from her. The
+nurse ran to her side, a look of triumph came upon her face, and she said,
+"Now we shall see who's right," and forthwith ran for the doctor. He came
+running up the stairs; immediately silence and scientific collectedness
+gathered round Esther, and after a brief examination he said, in a low
+whisper--
+
+"I'm afraid this will not be as easy a case as one might have imagined. I
+shall administer chloroform."
+
+He placed a small wire case over her mouth and nose, and the sickly odour
+which she breathed from the cotton wool filled her brain with nausea; it
+seemed to choke her, and then life faded, and at every inhalation she
+expected to lose sight of the circle of faces.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+When she opened her eyes the doctors and nurses were still standing round
+her, but there was no longer any expression of eager interest on their
+faces. She wondered at this change, and then out of the silence there came
+a tiny cry.
+
+"What's that?" Esther asked.
+
+"That's your baby."
+
+"My baby! Let me see it; is it a boy or a girl?"
+
+"It is a boy; it will be given to you when we get you out of the labour
+ward."
+
+"I knew it would be a boy." Then a scream of pain rent the stillness of
+the room. "Is that the same woman who was here when I first came in?
+Hasn't she been confined yet?"
+
+"No, and I don't think she will be till midday; she's very bad."
+
+The door was thrown open, and Esther was wheeled into the passage. She was
+like a convalescent plant trying to lift its leaves to the strengthening
+light, but within this twilight of nature the thought of another life, now
+in the world, grew momentarily more distinct. "Where is my boy?" she said;
+"give him to me."
+
+The nurse entered, and answered, "Here." A pulp of red flesh rolled up in
+flannel was laid alongside of her. Its eyes were open; it looked at her,
+and her flesh filled with a sense of happiness so deep and so intense that
+she was like one enchanted. When she took the child in her arms she
+thought she must die of happiness. She did not hear the nurse speak, nor
+did she understand her when she took the babe from her arms and laid it
+alongside on the pillow, saying, "You must let the little thing sleep, you
+must try to sleep yourself."
+
+Her personal self seemed entirely withdrawn; she existed like an
+atmosphere about the babe, an impersonal emanation of love. She lay
+absorbed in this life of her life, this flesh of her flesh, unconscious of
+herself as a sponge in warm sea-water. She touched this pulp of life, and
+was thrilled, and once more her senses swooned with love; it was still
+there. She remembered that the nurse had said it was a boy. She must see
+her boy, and her hands, working as in a dream, unwound him, and, delirious
+with love, she gazed until he awoke and cried. She tried to hush him and
+to enfold him, but her strength failed, she could not help him, and fear
+came lest he should die. She strove to reach her hands to him, but all
+strength had gone from her, and his cries sounded hollow in her weak
+brain. Then the nurse came and said--
+
+"See what you have done, the poor child is all uncovered; no wonder he is
+crying. I will wrap him up, and you must not interfere with him again."
+But as soon as the nurse turned away Esther had her child back in her
+arms. She did not sleep. She could not sleep for thinking of him, and the
+long night passed in adoration.
+
+
+
+
+XVII
+
+
+She was happy, her babe lay beside her. All her joints were loosened, and
+the long hospital days passed in gentle weariness. Lady visitors came and
+asked questions. Esther said that her father and mother lived in the
+Vauxhall Bridge Road, and she admitted that she had saved four pounds.
+There were two beds in this ward, and the woman who occupied the second
+bed declared herself to be destitute, without home, or money, or friends.
+She secured all sympathy and promises of help, and Esther was looked upon
+as a person who did not need assistance and ought to have known better.
+They received visits from a clergyman. He spoke to Esther of God's
+goodness and wisdom, but his exhortations seemed a little remote, and
+Esther was sad and ashamed that she was not more deeply stirred. Had it
+been her own people who came and knelt about her bed, lifting their voices
+in the plain prayers she was accustomed to, it might have been different;
+but this well-to-do clergyman, with his sophisticated speech, seemed
+foreign to her, and failed to draw her thoughts from the sleeping child.
+
+The ninth day passed, but Esther recovered slowly, and it was decided that
+she should not leave the hospital before the end of the third week. She
+knew that when she crossed the threshold of the hospital there would be no
+more peace for her; and she was frightened as she listened to the
+never-ending rumble of the street. She spent whole hours thinking of her
+dear mother, and longing for some news from home, and her face brightened
+when she was told that her sister had come to see her.
+
+"Jenny, what has happened; is mother very bad?"
+
+"Mother is dead, that's what I've come to tell you; I'd have come before,
+but----"
+
+"Mother dead! Oh, no, Jenny! Oh, Jenny, not my poor mother!"
+
+"Yes Esther. I knew it would cut you up dreadful; we was all very sorry,
+but she's dead. She's dead a long time now, I was just a-going to tell
+you----"
+
+"Jenny, what do you mean? Dead a long time?"
+
+"Well, she was buried more than a week ago. We were so sorry you couldn't
+be at the funeral. We was all there, and had crape on our dresses and
+father had crape on his 'at. We all cried, especially in church and about
+the grave, and when the sexton threw in the soil it sounded that hollow it
+made me sob. Julia, she lost her 'ead and asked to be buried with mother,
+and I had to lead her away; and then we went 'ome to dinner."
+
+"Oh, Jenny, our poor mother gone from us for ever! How did she die? Tell
+me, was it a peaceful death? Did she suffer?"
+
+"There ain't much to tell. Mother was taken bad almost immediately after
+you was with us the last time. Mother was that bad all the day long and
+all night too we could 'ardly stop in the 'ouse; it gave one just the
+creeps to listen to her crying and moaning."
+
+"And then?"
+
+"Why, then the baby was born. It was dead, and mother died of weakness;
+prostration the doctor called it."
+
+Esther hid her face in the pillow. Jenny waited, and an anxious look of
+self began to appear on the vulgar London street face.
+
+"Look 'ere, Esther, you can cry when I've gone; I've a deal to say to yer
+and time is short."
+
+"Oh, Jenny, don't speak like that! Father, was he kind to mother?"
+
+"I dunno that he thought much about it; he spent 'alf 'is time in the
+public, 'e did. He said he couldn't abide the 'ouse with a woman
+a-screaming like that. One of the neighbours came in to look after mother,
+and at last she had the doctor." Esther looked at her sister through
+streaming tears, and the woman in the other bed alluded to the folly of
+poor women being confined "in their own 'omes--in a 'ome where there is a
+drunken 'usband, and most 'omes is like that nowadays."
+
+At that moment Esther's baby awoke crying for the breast. The little lips
+caught at the nipple, the wee hand pressed the white curve, and in a
+moment Esther's face took that expression of holy solicitude which Raphael
+sublimated in the Virgin's downward-gazing eyes. Jenny watched the
+gluttonous lips, interested in the spectacle, and yet absorbed in what she
+had come to say to her sister.
+
+"Your baby do look 'ealthy."
+
+"Yes, and he is too, not an ache or a pain. He's as beautiful a boy as
+ever lived. But think of poor mother, Jenny, think of poor mother."
+
+"I do think of her, Esther. But I can't help seeing your baby. He's like
+you, Esther. I can see a look of you in 'is eyes. But I don't know that I
+should care to 'ave a baby meself--the expense comes very 'eavy on a poor
+girl."
+
+"Please God, my baby shall never want for anything as long as I can work
+for him. But, Jenny, my trouble will be a lesson to you. I hope you will
+always be a good girl, and never allow yourself to be led away; you
+promise me?"
+
+"Yes, I promise."
+
+"A 'ome like ours, a drunken father, and now that poor mother is gone it
+will be worse than ever. Jenny, you are the eldest and must do your best
+to look after the younger ones, and as much as possible to keep father
+from the public-house. I shall be away; the moment I'm well enough I must
+look out for a place."
+
+"That's just what I came to speak to you about. Father is going to
+Australia. He is that tired of England, and as he lost his situation on
+the railway he has made up his mind to emigrate. It is pretty well all
+arranged; he has been to an agency and they say he'll 'ave to pay two
+pounds a 'ead, and that runs to a lot of money in a big family like ours.
+So I'm likely to get left, for father says that I'm old enough to look
+after myself. He's willing to take me if I gets the money, not without.
+That's what I came to tell yer about."
+
+Esther understood that Jenny had come to ask for money. She could not give
+it, and lapsed into thinking of this sudden loss of all her family. She
+did not know where Australia was; she fancied that she had once heard that
+it took months to get there. But she knew that they were all going from
+her, they were going out on the sea in a great ship that would sail and
+sail further and further away. She could see the ship from her bedside, at
+first strangely distinct, alive with hands and handkerchiefs; she could
+distinguish all the children--Jenny, Julia, and little Ethel. She lost
+sight of their faces as the ship cleared the harbour. Soon after the ship
+was far away on the great round of waters, again a little while and all
+the streaming canvas not larger than a gull's wing, again a little while
+and the last speck on the horizon hesitated and disappeared.
+
+"What are you crying about, Esther? I never saw yer cry before. It do seem
+that odd."
+
+"I'm so weak. Mother's death has broken my heart, and now to know that I
+shall never see any one of you again."
+
+"It do seem 'ard. We shall miss you sadly. But I was going to say that
+father can't take me unless I finds two pounds. You won't see me stranded,
+will you, Esther?"
+
+"I cannot give you the money, Jenny. Father has had too much of my money
+already; there's 'ardly enough to see me through. I've only four pounds
+left. I cannot give you my child's money; God knows how we shall live
+until I can get to work again."
+
+"You're nearly well now. But if yer can't help me, yer can't. I don't know
+what's to be done. Father can't take me if I don't find the money."
+
+"You say the agency wants two pounds for each person?"
+
+"Yes, that's it."
+
+"And I've four. We might both go if it weren't for the baby, but I don't
+suppose they'd make any charge for a child on the breast."
+
+"I dunno. There's father; yer know what he is."
+
+"That's true. He don't want me; I'm not one of his. But, Jenny, dear, it
+is terrible to be left all alone. Poor mother dead, and all of you going
+to Australia. I shall never see one of you again."
+
+The conversation paused. Esther changed the baby from the left to the
+right breast, and Jenny tried to think what she had best say to induce her
+sister to give her the money she wanted.
+
+"If you don't give me the money I shall be left; it is hard luck, that's
+all, for there's fine chances for a girl, they says, out in Australia. If
+I remain 'ere I dunno what will become of me."
+
+"You had better look out for a situation. We shall see each other from
+time to time. It's a pity you don't know a bit of cooking, enough to take
+the place of kitchen-maid."
+
+"I only know that dog-making, and I've 'ad enough of that."
+
+"You can always get a situation as general servant in a lodging-'ouse."
+
+"Service in a lodging-'ouse! Not me. You know what that is. I'm surprised
+that you'd ask me."
+
+"Well, what are yer thinking of doing?"
+
+"I was thinking of going on in the pantomime as one of the hextra ladies,
+if they'll 'ave me."
+
+"Oh, Jenny, you won't do that, will you? A theatre is only sinfulness, as
+we 'ave always knowed."
+
+"You know that I don't 'old with all them preachy-preachy brethren says
+about the theatre."
+
+"I can't argue--I 'aven't the strength, and it interferes with the milk."
+And then, as if prompted by some association of ideas, Esther said, "I
+hope, Jenny, that you'll take example by me and will do nothing foolish;
+you'll always be a good girl."
+
+"Yes, if I gets the chance."
+
+"I'm sorry to 'ear you speak like that, and poor mother only just dead."
+
+The words that rose to Jenny's lips were: "A nice one you are, with a baby
+at your breast, to come a-lecturing me," but, fearing Esther's temper, she
+checked the dangerous words and said instead--
+
+"I didn't mean that I was a-going on the streets right away this very
+evening, only that a girl left alone in London without anyone to look to
+may go wrong in spite of herself, as it were."
+
+"A girl never need go wrong; if she does it is always 'er own fault."
+Esther spoke mechanically, but suddenly remembering her own circumstances
+she said: "I'd give you the money if I dared, but for the child's sake I
+mustn't."
+
+"You can afford it well enough--I wouldn't ask you if you couldn't. You'll
+be earning a pound a week presently."
+
+"A pound a week! What do you mean, Jenny?"
+
+"Yer can get that as wet-nurse, and yer food too."
+
+"How do yer know that, Jenny?"
+
+"A friend of mine who was 'ere last year told me she got it, and you can
+get it too if yer likes. Fancy a pound for the next six months, and
+everything found. Yer might spare me the money and let me go to Australia
+with the others."
+
+"I'd give yer the money if what you said was true."
+
+"Yer can easily find out what I say is the truth by sending for the
+matron. Shall I go and fetch her? I won't be a minute; you'll see what she
+says."
+
+A few moments after Jenny returned with a good-looking, middle-aged woman.
+On her face there was that testy and perplexed look that comes of much
+business and many interruptions. Before she had opened her lips her face
+had said: "Come, what is it? Be quick about it."
+
+"Father and the others is going to Australia. Mother's dead and was buried
+last week, so father says there's nothing to keep 'im 'ere, for there is
+better prospects out there. But he says he can't take me, for the agency
+wants two pounds a 'ead, and it was all he could do to find the money for
+the others. He is just short of two pounds, and as I'm the eldest barring
+Esther, who is 'is step-daughter, 'e says that I had better remain, that
+I'm old enough to get my own living, which is very 'ard on a girl, for I'm
+only just turned sixteen. So I thought that I would come up 'ere and tell
+my sister----"
+
+"But, my good girl, what has all this got to do with me? I can't give you
+two pounds to go to Australia. You are only wasting my time for nothing."
+
+"'Ear me out, missis. I want you to explain to my sister that you can get
+her a situation as a wet-nurse at a pound a week--that's the usual money
+they gets, so I told her, but she won't believe me; but if you tells her,
+she'll give me two pounds and I shall be able to go with father to
+Australia, where they says there is fine chances for a girl."
+
+The matron examined in critical disdain the vague skirt, the broken boots,
+and the misshapen hat, coming all the while to rapid conclusions regarding
+the moral value of this unabashed child of the gutter.
+
+"I think your sister will be very foolish if she gives you her money."
+
+"Oh, don't say that, missis, don't."
+
+"How does she know that your story is true? Perhaps you are not going to
+Australia at all."
+
+"Perhaps I'm not--that's just what I'm afraid of; but father is, and I can
+prove it to you. I've brought a letter from father--'ere it is; now, is
+that good enough for yer?"
+
+"Come, no impertinence, or I'll order you out of the hospital in double
+quick time," said the matron.
+
+"I didn't intend no impertinence," said Jenny humbly, "only I didn't like
+to be told I was telling lies when I was speaking the truth."
+
+"Well, I see that your father is going to Australia," the matron replied,
+returning the letter to Jenny; "you want your sister to give you her money
+to take you there too."
+
+"What I wants is for you to tell my sister that you can get her a
+situation as wet-nurse; then perhaps she'll give me the money."
+
+"If your sister wants to go out as wet-nurse, I daresay I could get her a
+pound a week."
+
+"But," said Esther, "I should have to put baby out at nurse."
+
+"You'll have to do that in any case," Jenny interposed; "you can't live
+for nine months on your savings and have all the nourishing food that
+you'll want to keep your milk going,"
+
+"If I was yer sister I'd see yer further before I'd give yer my money. You
+must 'ave a cheek to come a-asking for it, to go off to Australia where a
+girl 'as chances, and yer sister with a child at the breast left behind.
+Well I never!"
+
+Jenny and the matron turned suddenly and looked at the woman in the
+opposite bed who had so unexpectedly expressed her views. Jenny was
+furious.
+
+"What odds is it to you?" she screamed; "what business is it of yours,
+coming poking your nose in my affairs?"
+
+"Come, now, I can't have any rowing," exclaimed the matron.
+
+"Rowing! I should like to know what business it is of 'ers."
+
+"Hush, hush, I can't have you interfering with my patients; another word
+and I'll order you out of the hospital,"
+
+"Horder me out of the horspital! and what for? Who began it? No, missis,
+be fair; wait until my sister gives her answer."
+
+"Well, then, she must be quick about it--I can't wait about here all day."
+
+"I'll give my sister the money to take her to Australia if you say you can
+get me a situation as wet-nurse."
+
+"Yes, I think I can do that. It was four pounds five that you gave me to
+keep. I remember the amount, for since I've been here no one has come with
+half that. If they have five shillings they think they can buy half
+London."
+
+"My sister is very careful," said Jenny, sententiously. The matron looked
+sharply at her and said--
+
+"Now come along with me--I'm going to fetch your sister's money. I can't
+leave you here--you'd get quarrelling with my patients."
+
+"No, missis, indeed I won't say nothing to her."
+
+"Do as I tell you. Come along with me."
+
+So with a passing scowl Jenny expressed her contempt for the woman who had
+come "a-interfering in 'er business," and went after the matron, watching
+her every movement. When they came back Jenny's eyes were fixed on the
+matron's fat hand as if she could see the yellow metal through the
+fingers.
+
+"Here is your money," said the matron; "four pounds five. You can give
+your sister what you like."
+
+Esther held the four sovereigns and the two half-crowns in her hand for a
+moment, then she said--
+
+"Here, Jenny, are the two pounds you want to take you to Australia. I 'ope
+they'll bring you good luck, and that you'll think of me sometimes."
+
+"Indeed I will, Esther. You've been a good sister to me, indeed you 'ave;
+I shall never forget you, and will write to you.... It is very 'ard
+parting."
+
+"Come, come, never mind those tears. You have got your money; say good-bye
+to your sister and run along."
+
+"Don't be so 'eartless," cried Jenny, whose susceptibilities were now on
+the move. "'Ave yer no feeling; don't yer know what it is to bid good-bye
+to yer sister, and perhaps for ever?" Jenny flung herself into Esther's
+arms crying bitterly. "Oh, Esther, I do love you; yer 'ave been that kind
+to me I shall never forget it. I shall be very lonely without you. Write
+to me sometimes; it will be a comfort to hear how you are getting on. If I
+marry I'll send for you, and you'll bring the baby."
+
+"Do you think I'd leave him behind? Kiss 'im before you go."
+
+"Good-bye, Esther; take care of yourself."
+
+Esther was now alone in the world, and she remembered the night she walked
+home from the hospital and how cruel the city had seemed. She was now
+alone in that great wilderness with her child, for whom she would have to
+work for many, many years. How would it all end? Would she be able to live
+through it? Had she done right in letting Jenny have the money--her boy's
+money? She should not have given it; but she hardly knew what she was
+doing, she was so weak, and the news of her mother's death had overcome
+her. She should not have given Jenny her boy's money.... But perhaps it
+might turn out all right after all. If the matron got her a situation as
+wet-nurse she'd be able to pull through. "So they would separate us," she
+whispered, bending over the sleeping child. "There is no help for it, my
+poor darling. There's no help for it, no help for it."
+
+Next day Esther was taken out of bed. She spent part of the afternoon
+sitting in an easy-chair, and Mrs. Jones came to see her. The little old
+woman seemed like one whom she had known always, and Esther told her about
+her mother's death and the departure of her family for Australia. Perhaps
+a week lay between her and the beginning of the struggle which she
+dreaded. She had been told that they did not usually keep anyone in the
+hospital more than a fortnight. Three days after Mrs. Jones' visit the
+matron came into their room hurriedly.
+
+"I'm very sorry," she said, "but a number of new patients are expected;
+there's nothing for it but to get rid of you. It is a pity, for I can see
+you are both very weak."
+
+"What, me too?" said the woman in the other bed. "I can hardly stand; I
+tried just now to get across the room."
+
+"I'm very sorry, but we've new patients coming, and there's all our spring
+cleaning. Have you any place to go to?"
+
+"No place except a lodging," said Esther; "and I have only two pounds five
+now."
+
+"What's the use in taking us at all if you fling us out on the street when
+we can hardly walk?" said the other woman. "I wish I had gone and drowned
+myself. I was very near doing it. If I had it would be all over now for me
+and the poor baby."
+
+"I'm used to all this ingratitude," said the matron. "You have got through
+your confinement very comfortably, and your baby is quite healthy; I hope
+you'll try and keep it so. Have you any money?"
+
+"Only four-and-sixpence."
+
+"Have you got any friends to whom you can go?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Then you'll have to apply for admission to the workhouse."
+
+The woman made no answer, and at that moment two sisters came and forcibly
+began to dress her. She fell back from time to time in their arms, almost
+fainting.
+
+"Lord, what a job!" said one sister; "she's just like so much lead in
+one's arms. But if we listened to them we should have them loafing here
+over a month more." Esther did not require much assistance, and the sister
+said, "Oh, you are as strong as they make 'em; you might have gone two
+days ago."
+
+"You're no better than brutes," Esther muttered. Then, turning to the
+matron, she said, "You promised to get me a situation as wet-nurse."
+
+"Yes, so I did, but the lady who I intended to recommend you to wrote this
+morning to say that she had suited herself."
+
+"But do you think you could get me a situation as wet-nurse?" said the
+other woman; "it would save me from going to the workhouse."
+
+"I really don't know what to do with you all; you all want to stop in the
+hospital at least a month, eating and drinking the best of everything, and
+then you want situations as wet-nurses at a pound a week."
+
+"But," said Esther, indignantly, "I never should have given my sister two
+pounds if you had not told me you could get me the situation."
+
+"I'm sorry," said the matron, "to have to send you away. I should like to
+have kept you, but really there is no help for it. As for the situation,
+I'll do the best I can. It is true that place I intended for you is filled
+up, but there will be another shortly, and you shall have the first. Give
+me your address. I shall not keep you long waiting, you can depend upon
+me. You are still very weak, I can see that. Would you like to have one of
+the nurses to walk round with you? You had better--you might fall and hurt
+the baby. My word, he is a fine boy."
+
+"Yes, he is a beautiful boy; it will break my heart to part with him."
+
+Some eight or nine poor girls stood outside, dressed alike in dingy
+garments. They were like half-dead flies trying to crawl through an
+October afternoon; and with their babies and a keen wind blowing, they
+found it difficult to hold on their hats.
+
+"It do catch you a bit rough, coming out of them 'ot rooms," said a woman
+standing by her. "I'm that weak I can 'ardly carry my baby. I dunno 'ow I
+shall get as far as the Edgware Road. I take my 'bus there. Are you going
+that way?"
+
+"No, I'm going close by, round the corner."
+
+
+
+
+XVIII
+
+
+Her hair hung about her, her hands and wrists were shrunken, her flesh was
+soft and flabby, and she had dark shadows in her face. Nursing her child
+seemed to draw all strength from her, and her nervous depression
+increased; she was too weary and ill to think of the future, and for a
+whole week her physical condition held her, to the exclusion of every
+other thought. Mrs. Jones was very kind, and only charged her ten
+shillings a week for her board and lodging, but this was a great deal when
+only two pounds five shillings remained between her and the workhouse, and
+this fact was brought home to her when Mrs. Jones came to her for the
+first week's money. Ten shillings gone; only one pound fifteen shillings
+left, and still she was so weak that she could hardly get up and down
+stairs. But if she were twice as weak, if she had to crawl along the
+street on her hands and knees, she must go to the hospital and implore the
+matron to get her a situation as wet-nurse. It was raining heavily, and
+Mrs. Jones said it was madness for her to go out in such weather, but go
+she must; and though it was distant only a few hundred yards, she often
+thought she would like to lie down and die. And at the hospital only
+disappointment. Why hadn't she called yesterday? Yesterday two ladies of
+title had come and taken two girls away. Such a chance might not occur for
+some time. "For some time," thought Esther; "very soon I shall have to
+apply for admission at the workhouse." She reminded the matron of her
+promise, and returned home more dead than alive. Mrs. Jones helped her to
+change her clothes, and bade her be of good heart. Esther looked at her
+hopelessly, and sitting down on the edge of her bed she put the baby to
+her breast.
+
+Another week passed. She had been to the hospital every day, but no one
+had been to inquire for a wet-nurse. Her money was reduced to a few
+shillings, and she tried to reconcile herself to the idea that she might
+do worse than to accept the harsh shelter of the workhouse. Her nature
+revolted against it; but she must do what was best for the child. She
+often asked herself how it would all end, and the more she thought, the
+more terrible did the future seem. Her miserable meditations were
+interrupted by a footstep on the stairs. It was Mrs. Jones, coming to tell
+her that a lady who wanted a wet-nurse had come from the hospital; and a
+lady entered dressed in a beautiful brown silk, and looked around the
+humble room, clearly shocked at its poverty. Esther, who was sitting on
+the bed, rose to meet the fine lady, a thin woman, with narrow temples,
+aquiline features, bright eyes, and a disagreeable voice.
+
+"You are the young person who wants a situation as wet-nurse?"
+
+"Yes, ma'am."
+
+"Are you married?"
+
+"No, ma'am."
+
+"Is that your first child?"
+
+"Yes, ma'am."
+
+"Ah, that's a pity. But it doesn't matter much, so long as you and your
+baby are healthy. Will you show it to me?"
+
+"He is asleep now, ma'am," Esther said, raising the bed-clothes; "there
+never was a healthier child."
+
+"Yes, he seems healthy enough. You have a good supply of milk?"
+
+"Yes, ma'am."
+
+"Fifteen shillings, and all found. Does that suit you?"
+
+"I had expected a pound a week."
+
+"It is only your first baby. Fifteen shillings is quite enough. Of course
+I only engage you subject to the doctor's approval. I'll ask him to call."
+
+"Very well, ma'am; I shall be glad of the place."
+
+"Then it is settled. You can come at once?"
+
+"I must arrange to put my baby out to nurse, ma'am."
+
+The lady's face clouded. But following up another train of thought, she
+said--
+
+"Of course you must arrange about your baby, and I hope you'll make proper
+arrangements. Tell the woman in whose charge you leave it that I shall
+want to see it every three weeks. It will be better so," she added under
+her breath, "for two have died already."
+
+"This is my card," said the lady--"Mrs. Rivers, Curzon Street,
+Mayfair--and I shall expect you to-morrow afternoon--that is to say, if
+the doctor approves of you. Here is one-and-sixpence for your cab fare."
+
+"Thank you, ma'am."
+
+"I shall expect you not later than four o'clock. I hope you won't
+disappoint me; remember my child is waiting."
+
+When Mrs. Rivers left, Esther consulted with Mrs. Jones. The difficulty
+was now where she should put the child out at nurse. It was now just after
+two o'clock. The baby was fast asleep, and would want nothing for three or
+four hours. It would be well for Esther to put on her hat and jacket and
+go off at once. Mrs. Jones gave her the address of a respectable woman who
+used to take charge of children. But this woman was nursing twins, and
+could not possibly undertake the charge of another baby. And Esther
+visited many streets, always failing for one reason or another. At last
+she found herself in Wandsworth, in a battered tumble-down little street,
+no thoroughfare, only four houses and a coal-shed. Broken wooden palings
+stood in front of the small area into which descent was made by means of a
+few wooden steps. The wall opposite seemed to be the back of some stables,
+and in the area of No. 3 three little mites were playing. The baby was
+tied in a chair, and a short fat woman came out of the kitchen at Esther's
+call, her dirty apron sloping over her high stomach, and her pale brown
+hair twisted into a knot at the top of her head.
+
+"Well, what is it?"
+
+"I came about putting a child out to nurse. You are Mrs. Spires, ain't
+yer?"
+
+"Yes, that's my name. May I ask who sent you?"
+
+Esther told her, and then Mrs. Spires asked her to step down into the
+kitchen.
+
+"Them 'ere children you saw in the area I looks after while their mothers
+are out washing or charing. They takes them 'ome in the evening. I only
+charges them four-pence a-day, and it is a loss at that, for they does
+take a lot of minding. What age is yours?"
+
+"Mine is only a month old. I've a chance to go out as wet-nurse if I can
+find a place to put him out at nurse. Will you look after my baby?"
+
+"How much do you think of paying for him?"
+
+"Five shillings a week."
+
+"And you a-going out as wet-nurse at a pound a week; you can afford more
+than that."
+
+"I'm only getting fifteen shillings a week."
+
+"Well, you can afford to pay six. I tell you the responsibility I of
+looking after a hinfant is that awful nowadays that I don't care to
+undertake it for less."
+
+Esther hesitated; she did not like this woman.
+
+"I suppose," said the woman, altering her tone to one of mild
+interrogation, "you would like your baby to have the best of everything,
+and not the drainings of any bottle that's handy?"
+
+"I should like my child to be well looked after, and I must see the child
+every three weeks."
+
+"Do you expect me to bring up the child to wherever the lady lives, and
+pay my 'bus fare, all out of five shillings a week? It can't be done!"
+Esther did not answer. "You ain't married, of course?" Mrs. Spires said
+suddenly.
+
+"No, I ain't; what about that?"
+
+"Oh, nothing; there is so many of you, that's all. You can't lay yer 'and
+on the father and get a bit out of 'im?"
+
+The conversation paused. Esther felt strangely undecided. She looked round
+suspiciously, and noticing the look the woman said--
+
+"Your baby will be well looked after 'ere; a nice warm kitchen, and I've
+no other babies for the moment; them children don't give no trouble, they
+plays in the area. You had better let me have the child; you won't do
+better than 'ere."
+
+Esther promised to think it over and let her know to-morrow. It took her
+many omnibuses to get home, and it was quite dark when she pushed the door
+to. The first thing that caught her ear was her child crying. "What is the
+matter?" she cried, hurrying down the passage.
+
+"Oh, is that you? You have been away a time. The poor child is that hungry
+he has been crying this hour or more. If I'd 'ad a bottle I'd 'ave given
+him a little milk."
+
+"Hungry, is he? Then he shall have plenty soon. It is nearly the last time
+I shall nurse the poor darling." Then she told Mrs. Jones about Mrs.
+Spires, and both women tried to arrive at a decision.
+
+"Since you have to put the child out to nurse, you might as well put him
+there as elsewhere; the woman will look after him as well as she
+can--she'll do that, if it is for the sake of the six shillings a week."
+
+"Yes, yes, I know; but I've always heard that children die that are put
+out to nurse. If mine died I never should forgive myself."
+
+She could not sleep; she lay with her arms about her baby, distracted at
+the thought of parting from him. What had she done that her baby should be
+separated from her? What had the poor little darling done? He at least was
+innocent; why should he be deprived of his mother? At midnight she got up
+and lighted a candle, looked at him, took him in her arms, squeezed him to
+her bosom till he cried, and the thought came that it would be sweeter to
+kill him with her own hands than to be parted from him.
+
+The thought of murder went with the night, and she enjoyed the journey to
+Wandsworth. Her baby laughed and cooed, and was much admired in the
+omnibus, and the little street where Mrs. Spires lived seemed different. A
+cart of hay was being unloaded, and this gave the place a pleasant rural
+air. Mrs. Spires, too, was cleaner, tidier; Esther no longer disliked her;
+she had a nice little cot ready for the baby, and he seemed so comfortable
+in it that Esther did not feel the pangs at parting which she had expected
+to feel. She would see him in a few weeks, and in those weeks she would be
+richer. It seemed quite wonderful to earn so much money in so short a
+time. She had had a great deal of bad luck, but her luck seemed to have
+turned at last. So engrossed was she in the consideration of her good
+fortune that she nearly forgot to get out of her 'bus at Charing Cross,
+and had it not been for the attention of the conductor might have gone on,
+she did not know where--perhaps to Clerkenwell, or may be to Islington.
+When the second 'bus turned into Oxford Street she got out, not wishing to
+spend more money than was necessary. Mrs. Jones approved of all she had
+done, helped her to pack up her box, and sent her away with many kind
+wishes to Curzon Street in a cab.
+
+Esther was full of the adventure and the golden prospect before her. She
+wondered if the house she was going to was as grand as Woodview, and she
+was struck by the appearance of the maidservant who opened the door to
+her.
+
+"Oh, here you are," Mrs. Rivers said. "I have been anxiously expecting
+you; my baby is not at all well. Come up to the nursery at once. I don't
+know your name," she said, turning to Esther.
+
+"Waters, ma'am."
+
+"Emily, you'll see that Waters' box is taken to her room."
+
+"I'll see to it, ma'am."
+
+"Then come up at once, Waters. I hope you'll succeed better than the
+others."
+
+A tall, handsome gentleman stood at the door of a room full of beautiful
+things, and as they went past him Mrs. Rivers said, "This is the new
+nurse, dear." Higher up, Esther saw a bedroom of soft hangings and bright
+porcelain. Then another staircase, and the little wail of a child caught
+on the ear, and Mrs. Rivers said, "The poor little thing; it never ceases
+crying. Take it, Waters, take it."
+
+Esther sat down, and soon the little thing ceased crying.
+
+"It seems to take to you," said the anxious mother.
+
+"So it seems," said Esther; "it is a wee thing, not half the size of my
+boy."
+
+"I hope the milk will suit it, and that it won't bring up what it takes.
+This is our last chance."
+
+"I daresay it will come round, ma'am. I suppose you weren't strong enough
+to nurse it yourself, and yet you looks healthy."
+
+"I? No, I could not undertake to nurse it." Then, glancing suspiciously at
+Esther, whose breast was like a little cup, Mrs. Rivers said, "I hope you
+have plenty of milk?"
+
+"Oh, yes, ma'am; they said at the hospital I could bring up twins."
+
+"Your supper will be ready at nine. But that will be a long time for you
+to wait. I told them to cut you some sandwiches, and you'll have a glass
+of porter. Or perhaps you'd prefer to wait till supper? You can have your
+supper, you know, at eight, if you like?"
+
+Esther took a sandwich and Mrs. Rivers poured out a glass of porter. And
+later in the evening Mrs. Rivers came down from her drawing-room to see
+that Esther's supper was all right, and not satisfied with the handsome
+fare that had been laid before her child's nurse, she went into the
+kitchen and gave strict orders that the meat for the future was not to be
+quite so much cooked.
+
+Henceforth it seemed to Esther that she was eating all day. The food was
+doubtless necessary after the great trial of the flesh she had been
+through, likewise pleasant after her long abstinences. She grew happy in
+the tide of new blood flowing in her veins, and might easily have
+abandoned herself in the seduction of these carnal influences. But her
+moral nature was of tough fibre, and made mute revolt. Such constant
+mealing did not seem natural, and the obtuse brain of this lowly
+servant-girl was perplexed. Her self-respect was wounded; she hated her
+position in this house, and sought consolation in the thought that she was
+earning good money for her baby. She noticed, too, that she never was
+allowed out alone, and that her walks were limited to just sufficient
+exercise to keep her in health.
+
+A fortnight passed, and one afternoon, after having put baby to sleep, she
+said to Mrs. Rivers, "I hope, ma'am, you'll be able to spare me for a
+couple of hours; baby won't want me before then. I'm very anxious about my
+little one."
+
+"Oh, nurse, I couldn't possibly hear of it; such a thing is never allowed.
+You can write to the woman, if you like."
+
+"I do not know how to write, ma'am."
+
+"Then you can get some one to write for you. But your baby is no doubt all
+right."
+
+"But, ma'am, you are uneasy about your baby; you are up in the nursery
+twenty times a day; it is only natural I should be uneasy about mine."
+
+"But, nurse, I've no one to send with you."
+
+"There is no reason why any one should go with me, ma'am; I can take care
+of myself."
+
+"What! let you go off all the way to--where did you say you had left
+it--Wandsworth?--by yourself! I really couldn't think of it. I don't want
+to be unnecessarily hard--but I really couldn't--no mother could. I must
+consider the interests of my child. But I don't want you to agitate
+yourself, and if you like I'll write myself to the woman who has charge of
+your baby. I cannot do more, and I hope you'll be satisfied."
+
+By what right, by what law, was she separated from her child? She was
+tired of hearing Mrs. Rivers speak of "my child, my child, my child," and
+of seeing this fine lady turn up her nose when she spoke of her own
+beautiful boy. When Mrs. Rivers came to engage her she had said that it
+would be better for the baby to be brought to see her every three or four
+weeks, for two had died already. At the time Esther had not understood.
+She had supposed vaguely, in a passing way, that Mrs. Rivers had already
+lost two children. But yesterday the housemaid had told her that that
+little thing in the cradle had had two wet-nurses before Esther, and that
+both babies had died. It was then a life for a life. It was more. The
+children of two poor girls had been sacrificed so that this rich woman's
+child might be saved. Even that was not enough, the life of her beautiful
+boy was called for. Then other memories swept into Esther's frenzied
+brain. She remembered vague hints, allusions that Mrs. Spires had thrown
+out; and as if in the obtuseness of a nightmare, it seemed to this
+ignorant girl that she was the victim of a dark and far-reaching
+conspiracy; she experienced the sensation of the captured animal, and she
+scanned the doors and windows, thinking of some means of escape.
+
+At that moment a knock was heard and the housemaid came in.
+
+"The woman who has charge of your baby has come to see you."
+
+Esther started up from her chair, and fat little Mrs. Spires waddled into
+the room, the ends of her shawl touching the ground.
+
+"Where is my baby?" said Esther. "Why haven't you brought him?"
+
+"Why, you see, my dear, the sweet little thing didn't seem as well as
+usual this afternoon, and I did not care to bring him out, it being a long
+way and a trifle cold.... It is nice and warm in here. May I sit down?"
+
+"Yes, there's a chair; but tell me what is the matter with him?"
+
+"A little cold, dear--nothing to speak of. You must not excite yourself,
+it isn't worth while; besides, it's bad for you and the little darling in
+the cradle. May I have a look?... A little girl, isn't it?"
+
+"Yes, it is a girl."
+
+"And a beautiful little girl too. 'Ow 'ealthy she do look! I'll be bound
+you have made a difference in her. I suppose you are beginning to like her
+just as if she was your own?"
+
+Esther did not answer.
+
+"Yer know, all you girls are dreadful taken with their babies at first.
+But they is a awful drag on a girl who gets her living in service. For my
+part I do think it providential-like that rich folk don't nurse their own.
+If they did, I dunno what would become of all you poor girls. The
+situation of wet-nurse is just what you wants at the time, and it is good
+money. I hope yer did what I told you and stuck out for a pound a week.
+Rich folk like these here would think nothing of a pound a week, nor yet
+two, when they sees their child is suited."
+
+"Never mind about my money, that's my affair. Tell me what's the matter
+with my baby?"
+
+"'Ow yer do 'arp on it! I've told yer that 'e's all right; nothing to
+signify, only a little poorly, but knowing you was that anxious I thought
+it better to come up. I didn't know but what you might like to 'ave in the
+doctor."
+
+"Does he require the doctor? I thought you said it was nothing to
+signify."
+
+"That depends on 'ow yer looks at it. Some likes to 'ave in the doctor,
+however little the ailing; then others won't 'ave anything to do with
+doctors--don't believe in them. So I thought I'd come up and see what you
+thought about it. I would 'ave sent for the doctor this morning--I'm one
+of those who 'as faith in doctors--but being a bit short of money I
+thought I'd come up and ask you for a trifle."
+
+At that moment Mrs. Rivers came into the nursery and her first look went
+in the direction of the cradle, then she turned to consider curtseying
+Mrs. Spires.
+
+"This is Mrs. Spires, the lady who is looking after my baby, ma'am," said
+Esther; "she has come with bad news--my baby is ill."
+
+"Oh, I'm sorry. But I daresay it is nothing."
+
+"But Mrs. Spires says, ma'am----"
+
+"Yes, ma'am, the little thing seemed a bit poorly, and I being short of
+money, ma'am, I had to come and see nurse. I knows right well that they
+must not be disturbed, and of course your child's 'ealth is everything;
+but if I may make so bold I'd like to say that the little dear do look
+beautiful. Nurse is bringing her up that well that yer must have every
+satisfaction in 'er."
+
+"Yes, she seems to suit the child; that's the reason I don't want her
+upset."
+
+"It won't occur again, ma'am, I promise you."
+
+Esther did not answer, and her white, sullen face remained unchanged. She
+had a great deal on her mind, and would have spoken if the words did not
+seem to betray her when she attempted to speak.
+
+"When the baby is well, and the doctor is satisfied there is no danger of
+infection, you can bring it here--once a month will be sufficient. Is
+there anything more?"
+
+"Mrs. Spires thinks my baby ought to see the doctor."
+
+"Well, let her send for the doctor."
+
+"Being a bit short of money----"
+
+"How much is it?" said Esther.
+
+"Well, what we pays is five shillings to the doctor, but then there's the
+medicine he will order, and I was going to speak to you about a piece of
+flannel; if yer could let me have ten shillings to go on with."
+
+"But I haven't so much left. I must see my baby," and Esther moved towards
+the door.
+
+"No, no, nurse, I cannot hear of it; I'd sooner pay the money myself. Now,
+how much do you want, Mrs. Spires?"
+
+"Ten shillings will do for the present, ma'am."
+
+"Here they are; let the child have every attendance, and remember you are
+not to come troubling my nurse. Above all, you are not to come up to the
+nursery. I don't know how it happened, it was a mistake on the part of the
+new housemaid. You must have my permission before you see my nurse." And
+while talking rapidly and imperatively Mrs. Rivers, as it were, drove Mrs.
+Spires out of the nursery. Esther could hear them talking on the
+staircase, and she listened, all the while striving to collect her
+thoughts. Mrs. Rivers said when she returned, "I really cannot allow her
+to come here upsetting you." Then, as if impressed by the sombre look on
+Esther's face, she added: "Upsetting you about nothing. I assure you it
+will be all right; only a little indisposition."
+
+"I must see my baby," Esther replied.
+
+"Come, nurse, you shall see your baby the moment the doctor says it is fit
+to come here. You can't expect me to do more than that." Esther did not
+move, and thinking that it would not be well to argue with her, Mrs.
+Rivers went over to the cradle. "See, nurse, the little darling has just
+woke up; come and take her, I'm sure she wants you."
+
+Esther did not answer her. She stood looking into space, and it seemed to
+Mrs. Rivers that it would be better not to provoke a scene. She went
+towards the door slowly, but a little cry from the cradle stopped her, and
+she said--
+
+"Come, nurse, what is it? Come, the baby is waiting for you."
+
+Then, like one waking from a dream, Esther said: "If my baby is all right,
+ma'am, I'll come back, but if he wants me, I'll have to look after him
+first."
+
+"You forget that I'm paying you fifteen shillings a week. I pay you for
+nursing my baby; you take my money, that's sufficient."
+
+"Yes, I do take your money, ma'am. But the housemaid has told me that you
+had two wet-nurses before me, and that both their babies died, so I cannot
+stop here now that mine's ill. Everyone for her own; you can't blame me.
+I'm sorry for yours--poor little thing, she was getting on nicely too."
+
+"But, Waters, you won't leave my baby. It's cruel of you. If I could nurse
+it myself----"
+
+"Why couldn't you, ma'am? You look fairly strong and healthy."
+
+Esther spoke in her quiet, stolid way, finding her words unconsciously.
+
+"You don't know what you're saying, nurse; you can't.... You've forgotten
+yourself. Next time I engage a nurse I'll try to get one who has lost her
+baby, and then there'll be no bother."
+
+"It is a life for a life--more than that, ma'am--two lives for a life; and
+now the life of my boy is asked for."
+
+A strange look passed over Mrs. Rivers' face. She knew, of course, that
+she stood well within the law, that she was doing no more than a hundred
+other fashionable women were doing at the same moment; but this plain girl
+had a plain way of putting things, and she did not care for it to be
+publicly known that the life of her child had been bought with the lives
+of two poor children. But her temper was getting the better of her.
+
+"He'll only be a drag on you. You'll never be able to bring him up, poor
+little bastard child."
+
+"It is wicked of you to speak like that, ma'am, though it is I who am
+saying it. It is none of the child's fault if he hasn't got a father, nor
+is it right that he should be deserted for that... and it is not for you
+to tell me to do such a thing. If you had made sacrifice of yourself in
+the beginning and nursed your own child such thoughts would not have come
+to you. But when you hire a poor girl such as me to give the milk that
+belongs to another to your child, you think nothing of the poor deserted
+one. He is but a bastard, you say, and had better be dead and done with. I
+see it all now; I have been thinking it out. It is all so hidden up that
+the meaning is not clear at first, but what it comes to is this, that fine
+folks like you pays the money, and Mrs. Spires and her like gets rid of
+the poor little things. Change the milk a few times, a little neglect, and
+the poor servant girl is spared the trouble of bringing up her baby and
+can make a handsome child of the rich woman's little starveling."
+
+At that moment the baby began to cry; both women looked in the direction
+of the cradle.
+
+"Nurse, you have utterly forgotten yourself, you have talked a great deal
+of nonsense, you have said a great deal that is untrue. You accused me of
+wishing your baby were dead, indeed I hardly know what wild remarks you
+did not indulge in. Of course, I cannot put up with such
+conduct--to-morrow you will come to me and apologise. In the meantime the
+baby wants you, are you not going to her?"
+
+"I'm going to my own child."
+
+"That means that you refuse to nurse my baby?"
+
+"Yes, I'm going straight to look after my own."
+
+"If you leave my house you shall never enter it again."
+
+"I don't want to enter it again."
+
+"I shall not pay you one shilling if you leave my baby. You have no
+money."
+
+"I shall try to manage without. I shall go with my baby to the workhouse.
+However bad the living may be there, he'll be with his mother."
+
+"If you go to-night my baby will die. She cannot be brought up on the
+bottle."
+
+"Oh, I hope not, ma'am. I should be sorry, indeed I should."
+
+"Then stay, nurse."
+
+"I must go to my baby, ma'am."
+
+"Then you shall go at once--this very instant."
+
+"I'm going this very instant, as soon as I've put on my hat and jacket."
+
+"You had better take your box with you. If you don't I'll shall have it
+thrown into the street."
+
+"I daresay you're cruel enough to do that if the law allows you, only be
+careful that it do."
+
+
+
+
+XIX
+
+
+The moment Esther got out of the house in Curzon Street she felt in her
+pocket for her money. She had only a few pence; enough for her 'bus fare,
+however, and her thoughts did not go further. She was absorbed by one
+desire, how to save her child--how to save him from Mrs. Spires, whom she
+vaguely suspected; from the world, which called him a bastard and denied
+to him the right to live. And she sat as if petrified in the corner of the
+'bus, seeing nothing but a little street of four houses, facing some
+haylofts, the low-pitched kitchen, the fat woman, the cradle in the
+corner. The intensity and the oneness of her desire seemed to annihilate
+time, and when she got out of the omnibus she walked with a sort of
+animal-like instinct straight for the house. There was a light in the
+kitchen just as she expected, and as she descended the four wooden steps
+into the area she looked to see if Mrs. Spires was there. She was there,
+and Esther pushed open the door.
+
+"Where's my baby?"
+
+"Lord, 'ow yer did frighten me!" said Mrs. Spires, turning from the range
+and leaning against the table, which was laid for supper. "Coming like
+that into other folk's places without a word of warning--without as much
+as knocking at the door."
+
+"I beg your pardon, but I was that anxious about my baby."
+
+"Was you indeed? It is easy to see it is the first one. There it is in the
+cradle there."
+
+"Have you sent for the doctor?"
+
+"Sent for the doctor! I've to get my husband's supper."
+
+Esther took her baby out of the cradle. It woke up crying, and Esther
+said, "You don't mind my sitting down a moment. The poor little thing
+wants its mother."
+
+"If Mrs. Rivers saw you now a-nursing of yer baby?"
+
+"I shouldn't care if she did. He's thinner than when I left him; ten days
+'ave made a difference in him."
+
+"Well, yer don't expect a child to do as well without its mother as with
+her. But tell me, how did yer get out? You must have come away shortly
+after me."
+
+"I wasn't going to stop there and my child ill."
+
+"Yer don't mean to tell me that yer 'ave gone and thrown hup the
+situation?"
+
+"She told me if I went out, I should never enter her door again."
+
+"And what did you say?"
+
+"Told her I didn't want to."
+
+"And what, may I ask, are yer thinking of doing? I 'eard yer say yer 'ad
+no money."
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"Take my advice, and go straight back and ask 'er to overlook it, this
+once."
+
+"Oh, no, she'd never take me back."
+
+"Yes, she will; you suits the child, and that's all they think of."
+
+"I don't know what will become of me and my baby."
+
+"No more don't I. Yer can't stop always in the work'us, and a baby'll be a
+'eavy drag on you. Can't you lay 'ands on 'is father, some'ow?"
+
+Esther shook her head, and Mrs. Spires noticed that she was crying.
+
+"I'm all alone," she said; "I don't know 'ow I'm ever to pull through."
+
+"Not with that child yer won't--it ain't possible.... You girls is all
+alike, yer thinks of nothing but yer babies for the first few weeks, then
+yer tires of them, the drag on yer is that 'eavy--I knows yer--and then
+yer begins to wish they 'ad never been born, or yer wishes they had died
+afore they knew they was alive. I don't say I'm not often sorry for them,
+poor little dears, but they takes less notice than you'd think for, and
+they is better out of the way; they really is, it saves a lot of trouble
+hereafter. I often do think that to neglect them, to let them go off
+quiet, that I be their best friend; not wilful neglect, yer know, but what
+is a woman to do with ten or a dozen, and I often 'as as many? I am sure
+they'd thank me for it."
+
+Esther did not answer, but judging by her face that she had lost all hope,
+Mrs. Spires was tempted to continue.
+
+"There's that other baby in the far corner, that was brought 'ere since
+you was 'ere by a servant-girl like yerself. She's out a'nursing of a
+lady's child, getting a pound a week, just as you was; well, now I asks
+'ow she can 'ope to bring up that 'ere child--a weakly little thing that
+wants the doctor and all sorts of looking after. If that child was to live
+it would be the ruin of that girl's life. Don't yer 'ear what I'm saying?"
+
+"Yes, I hear," said Esther, speaking like one in a dream; "don't she care
+for her baby, then?"
+
+"She used to care for them, but if they had all lived I should like to
+know where she'd be. There 'as been five of them--that's the fifth--so,
+instead of them a-costing 'er money, they brings 'er money. She 'as never
+failed yet to suit 'erself in a situation as wet-nurse."
+
+"And they all died?"
+
+"Yes, they all died; and this little one don't look as if it was long for
+the world, do it?" said Mrs. Spires, who had taken the infant from the
+cradle to show Esther. Esther looked at the poor wizened features,
+twitched with pain, and the far-off cry of doom, a tiny tinkle from the
+verge, shivered in the ear with a strange pathos.
+
+"It goes to my 'eart," said Mrs. Spires, "it do indeed, but, Lord, it is
+the best that could 'appen to 'em; who's to care for 'em? and there is
+'undreds and 'undreds of them--ay, thousands and thousands every year--and
+they all dies like the early shoots. It is 'ard, very 'ard, poor little
+dears, but they is best out of the way--they is only an expense and a
+disgrace."
+
+Mrs. Spires talked on in a rapid, soothing, soporific voice. She had just
+finished pouring some milk in the baby's bottle and had taken down a jug
+of water from the dresser.
+
+"But that's cold water," said Esther, waking from the stupor of her
+despair; "it will give the baby gripes for certain."
+
+"I've no 'ot water ready; I'll let the bottle stand afore the fire,
+that'll do as well." Watching Esther all the while, Mrs. Spires held the
+bottle a few moments before the fire, and then gave it to the child to
+suck. Very soon after a cry of pain came from the cradle.
+
+"The little dear never was well; it wouldn't surprise me a bit if it
+died--went off before morning. It do look that poorly. One can't 'elp
+being sorry for them, though one knows there is no 'ouse for them 'ere.
+Poor little angels, and not even baptised. There's them that thinks a lot
+of getting that over. But who's to baptise the little angels?"
+
+"Baptise them?" Esther repeated. "Oh, sprinkle them, you mean. That's not
+the way with the Lord's people;" and to escape from a too overpowering
+reality she continued to repeat the half-forgotten patter of the Brethren,
+"You must wait until it is a symbol of living faith in the Lord!" And
+taking the baby in her hands for a moment, the wonder crossed her mind
+whether he would ever grow up and find salvation and testify to the Lord
+as an adult in voluntary baptism.
+
+All the while Mrs. Spires was getting on with her cooking. Several times
+she looked as if she were going to speak, and several times she checked
+herself. In truth, she didn't know what to make of Esther. Was her love of
+her child such love as would enable her to put up with all hardships for
+its sake, or was it the fleeting affection of the ordinary young mother,
+which, though ardent at first, gives way under difficulties? Mrs. Spires
+had heard many mothers talk as Esther talked, but when the real strain of
+life was put upon them they had yielded to the temptation of ridding
+themselves of their burdens. So Mrs. Spires could not believe that Esther
+was really different from the others, and if carefully handled she would
+do what the others had done. Still, there was something in Esther which
+kept Mrs. Spires from making any distinct proposal. But it were a pity to
+let the girl slip through her fingers--five pounds were not picked up
+every day. There were three five-pound notes in the cradles. If Esther
+would listen to reason there would be twenty pounds, and the money was
+wanted badly. Once more greed set Mrs. Spires' tongue flowing, and,
+representing herself as a sort of guardian angel, she spoke again about
+the mother of the dying child, pressing Esther to think what the girl's
+circumstances would have been if they had all lived.
+
+"And they all died?" said Esther.
+
+"Yes, and a good job, too," said Mrs. Spires, whose temper for the moment
+outsped her discretion. Was this penniless drab doing it on purpose to
+annoy her? A nice one indeed to high-and-mighty it over her. She would
+show her in mighty quick time she had come to the wrong shop. Just as Mrs.
+Spires was about to speak out she noticed that Esther was in tears. Mrs.
+Spires always looked upon tears as a good sign, so she resolved to give
+her one more chance. "What are you crying about?" she said.
+
+"Oh," said Esther, "I don't even know where I shall sleep tonight. I have
+only threepence, and not a friend in the world."
+
+"Now look 'ere, if you'll listen to reason I'll talk to you. Yer mustn't
+look upon me as a henemy. I've been a good friend to many a poor girl like
+you afore now, and I'll be one to you if you're sensible. I'll do for you
+what I'm doing for the other girl. Give me five pounds--"
+
+"Five pounds! I've only a few pence."
+
+"'Ear me out. Go back to yer situation--she'll take you back, yer suits
+the child, that's all she cares about; ask 'er for an advance of five
+pounds; she'll give it when she 'ears it is to get rid of yer child--they
+'ates their nurses to be a-'ankering after their own, they likes them to
+be forgotten like; they asks if the child is dead very often, and won't
+engage them if it isn't, so believe me she'll give yer the money when yer
+tells 'er that it is to give the child to someone who wants to adopt it.
+That's what you 'as to say."
+
+"And you'll take the child off my hands for ever for five pounds?"
+
+"Yes; and if you likes to go out again as wet-nurse, I'll take the second
+off yer 'ands too, and at the same price."
+
+"You wicked woman; oh, this is awful!"
+
+"Come, come.... What do you mean by talking to me like that? And because I
+offered to find someone who would adopt your child."
+
+"You did nothing of the kind; ever since I've been in your house you have
+been trying to get me to give you up my child to murder as you are
+murdering those poor innocents in the cradles."
+
+"It is a lie, but I don't want no hargument with yer; pay me what you owe
+me and take yerself hoff. I want no more of yer, do you 'ear?"
+
+Esther did not shrink before her as Mrs. Spires expected. Clasping her
+baby more tightly, she said: "I've paid you what I owe you, you've had
+more than your due. Mrs. Rivers gave you ten shillings for a doctor which
+you didn't send for. Let me go."
+
+"Yes, when yer pays me."
+
+"What's all this row about?" said a tall, red-bearded man who had just
+come in; "no one takes their babies out of this 'ere 'ouse before they
+pays. Come now, come now, who are yer getting at? If yer thinks yer can
+come here insulting of my wife yer mistaken; yer've come to the wrong
+shop."
+
+"I've paid all I owe," said Esther. "You're no better than murderers, but
+yer shan't have my poor babe to murder for a five-pound note."
+
+"Take back them words, or else I'll do for yer; take them back," he said,
+raising his fist.
+
+"Help, help, murder!" Esther screamed. Before the brute could seize her
+she had slipped past, but before she could scream again he had laid hold
+of her. Esther thought her last moment had come.
+
+"Let 'er go, let 'er go," cried Mrs. Spires, clinging on her husband's
+arm. "We don't want the perlice in 'ere."
+
+"Perlice! What do I care about the perlice? Let 'er pay what she owes."
+
+"Never mind, Tom; it is only a trifle. Let her go. Now then, take yer
+hook," she said, turning to Esther; "we don't want nothing to do with such
+as you."
+
+With a growl the man loosed his hold, and feeling herself free Esther
+rushed through the open doorway. Her feet flew up the wooden steps and she
+ran out of the street. So shaken were her nerves that the sight of some
+men drinking in a public-house frightened her. She ran on again. There was
+a cab-stand in the next street, and to avoid the cabmen and the loafers
+she hastily crossed to the other side. Her heart beat violently, her
+thoughts were in disorder, and she walked a long while before she realised
+that she did not know where she was going. She stopped to ask the way, and
+then remembered there was no place where she might go.
+
+She would have to spend the night in the workhouse, and then?
+
+She did not know.... All sorts of thoughts came upon her unsolicited, and
+she walked on and on. At last she rested her burden on the parapet of a
+bridge, and saw the London night, blue and gold, vast water rolling, and
+the spectacle of the stars like a dream from which she could not
+disentangle her individuality. Was she to die in the star-lit city, she
+and her child; and why should such cruelty happen to her more than to the
+next one? Steadying her thoughts with an effort, she said, "Why not go to
+the workhouse, only for the night?... She did not mind for herself, only
+she did not wish her boy to go there. But if God willed it...."
+
+She drew her shawl about her baby and tried once more to persuade herself
+into accepting the shelter of the workhouse. It seemed strange even to her
+that a pale, glassy moon should float high up in the sky, and that she
+should suffer; and then she looked at the lights that fell like golden
+daggers from the Surrey shore into the river. What had she done to deserve
+the workhouse? Above all, what had the poor, innocent child done to
+deserve it? She felt that if she once entered the workhouse she would
+remain there. She and her child paupers for ever. "But what can I do?" she
+asked herself crazily, and sat down on one of the seats.
+
+A young man coming home from an evening party looked at her as he passed.
+She asked herself if she should run after him and tell him her story. Why
+should he not assist her? He could so easily spare it. Would he? But
+before she could decide to appeal to him he had called a passing hansom
+and was soon far away. Then looking at the windows of the great hotels,
+she thought of the folk there who could so easily save her from the
+workhouse if they knew. There must be many a kind heart behind those
+windows who would help her if she could only make known her trouble. But
+that was the difficulty. She could not make known her trouble; she could
+not tell the misery she was enduring. She was so ignorant; she could not
+make herself understood. She would be mistaken for a common beggar.
+Nowhere would she find anyone to listen to her. Was this punishment for
+her wrong-doing? An idea of the blind cruelty of fate maddened her, and in
+the delirium of her misery she asked herself if it would not have been
+better, perhaps, if she had left him with Mrs. Spires. What indeed had the
+poor little fellow to live for? A young man in evening dress came towards
+her, looking so happy and easy in life, walking with long, swinging
+strides. He stopped and asked her if she was out for a walk.
+
+"No, sir; I'm out because I've no place to go."
+
+"How's that?"
+
+She told him the story of the baby-farmer and he listened kindly, and she
+thought the necessary miracle was about to happen. But he only
+complimented her on her pluck and got up to go. Then she understood that
+he did not care to listen to sad stories, and a vagrant came and sat down.
+
+"The 'copper,'" he said, "will be moving us on presently. It don't much
+matter; it's too cold to get to sleep, and I think it will rain. My cough
+is that bad."
+
+She might beg a night's lodging of Mrs. Jones. It was far away; she did
+not think she could walk so far. Mrs. Jones might have left, then what
+would she do? The workhouse up there was much the same as the workhouse
+down here. Mrs. Jones couldn't keep her for nothing, and there was no use
+trying for another situation as wet-nurse; the hospital would not
+recommend her again.... She must go to the workhouse. Then her thoughts
+wandered. She thought of her father, brothers, and sisters, who had gone
+to Australia. She wondered if they had yet arrived, if they ever thought
+of her, if--She and her baby were on their way to the workhouse. They were
+going to become paupers. She looked at the vagrant--he had fallen asleep.
+He knew all about the workhouse--should she ask him what it was like? He,
+too, was friendless. If he had a friend he would not be sleeping on the
+Embankment. Should she ask him? Poor chap, he was asleep. People were
+happy when they were asleep.
+
+A full moon floated high up in the sky, and the city was no more than a
+faint shadow on the glassy stillness of the night; and she longed to float
+away with the moon and the river, to be borne away out of sight of this
+world.
+
+Her baby grew heavy in her arms, and the vagrant, a bundle of rags thrown
+forward in a heap, slept at the other end of the bench. But she could not
+sleep, and the moon whirled on her miserable way. Then the glassy
+stillness was broken by the measured tramp of the policeman going his
+rounds. He directed her to Lambeth Workhouse, and as she walked towards
+Westminster she heard him rousing the vagrant and bidding him move onward.
+
+
+
+
+XX
+
+
+Those who came to the workhouse for servants never offered more than
+fourteen pounds a year, and these wages would not pay for her baby's keep
+out at nurse. Her friend the matron did all she could, but it was always
+fourteen pounds. "We cannot afford more." At last an offer of sixteen
+pounds a year came from a tradesman in Chelsea; and the matron introduced
+Esther to Mrs. Lewis, a lonely widowed woman, who for five shillings a
+week would undertake to look after the child. This would leave Esther
+three pounds a year for dress; three pounds a year for herself.
+
+What luck!
+
+The shop was advantageously placed at a street corner. Twelve feet of
+fronting on the King's Road, and more than half that amount on the side
+street, exposed to every view wall papers and stained glass designs. The
+dwelling-house was over the shop; the shop entrance faced the kerb in the
+King's Road.
+
+The Bingleys were Dissenters. They were ugly, and exacted the uttermost
+farthing from their customers and their workpeople. Mrs. Bingley was a
+tall, gaunt woman, with little grey ringlets on either side of her face.
+She spoke in a sour, resolute voice, when she came down in a wrapper to
+superintend the cooking. On Sundays she wore a black satin, fastened with
+a cameo brooch, and round her neck a long gold chain. Then her manners
+were lofty, and when her husband called "Mother," she answered testily,
+"Don't keep on mothering me." She frequently stopped him to settle his
+necktie or collar. All the week he wore the same short jacket; on Sundays
+he appeared in an ill-fitting frock-coat. His long upper lip was clean
+shaven, but under his chin there grew a ring of discoloured hair, neither
+brown nor red, but the neutral tint that hair which does not turn grey
+acquires. When he spoke he opened his mouth wide, and seemed quite
+unashamed of the empty spaces and the three or four yellow fangs that
+remained.
+
+John, the elder of the two brothers, was a silent youth whose one passion
+seemed to be eavesdropping. He hung round doors in the hopes of
+overhearing his sisters' conversation and if he heard Esther and the
+little girl who helped Esther in her work talking in the kitchen, he would
+steal cautiously halfway down the stairs. Esther often thought that his
+young woman must be sadly in want of a sweetheart to take on with one such
+as he. "Come along, Amy," he would cry, passing out before her; and not
+even at the end of a long walk did he offer her his arm; and they came
+strolling home just like boy and girl.
+
+Hubert, John's younger brother, was quite different. He had escaped the
+family temperament, as he had escaped the family upper lip. He was the one
+spot of colour in a somewhat sombre household, and Esther liked to hear
+him call back to his mother, "All right, mother, I've got the key; no one
+need wait up for me. I'll make the door fast."
+
+"Oh, Hubert, don't be later than eleven. You are not going out dancing
+again, are you? Your father will have the electric bell put on the door,
+so that he may know when you come in."
+
+The four girls were all ruddy-complexioned and long upper-lipped. The
+eldest was the plainest; she kept her father's books, and made the pastry.
+The second and third entertained vague hopes of marriage. The youngest was
+subject to hysterics, fits of some kind.
+
+The Bingleys' own house was representative of their ideas, and the taste
+they had imposed upon the neighbourhood. The staircase was covered with
+white drugget, and the white enamelled walls had to be kept scrupulously
+clean. There were no flowers in the windows, but the springs of the blinds
+were always in perfect order. The drawing-room was furnished with
+substantial tables, cabinets and chairs, and antimacassars, long and wide,
+and china ornaments and glass vases. There was a piano, and on this
+instrument, every Sunday evening, hymns were played by one of the young
+ladies, and the entire family sang in the chorus.
+
+It was into this house that Esther entered as general servant, with wages
+fixed at sixteen pounds a year. And for seventeen long hours every day,
+for two hundred and thirty hours every fortnight, she washed, she
+scrubbed, she cooked, she ran errands, with never a moment that she might
+call her own. Every second Sunday she was allowed out for four, perhaps
+for four and a half hours; the time fixed was from three to nine, but she
+was expected to be back in time to get the supper ready, and if it were
+many minutes later than nine there were complaints.
+
+She had no money. Her quarter's wages would not be due for another
+fortnight, and as they did not coincide with her Sunday out, she would not
+see her baby for another three weeks. She had not seen him for a month,
+and a great longing was in her heart to clasp him in her arms again, to
+feel his soft cheek against hers, to take his chubby legs and warm, fat
+feet in her hands. The four lovely hours of liberty would slip by, she
+would enter on another long fortnight of slavery. But no matter, only to
+get them, however quickly they sped from her. She resigned herself to her
+fate, her soul rose in revolt, and it grew hourly more difficult for her
+to renounce this pleasure. She must pawn her dress--the only decent dress
+she had left. No matter, she must see the child. She would be able to get
+the dress out of pawn when she was paid her wages. Then she would have to
+buy herself a pair of boots; and she owed Mrs. Lewis a good deal of money.
+Five shillings a week came to thirteen pound a year, leaving her three
+pound a year for boots and clothes, journeys back and forward, and
+everything the baby might want. Oh, it was not to be done--she never would
+be able to pull through. She dare not pawn her dress; if she did she'd
+never be able to get it out again. At that moment something bright lying
+on the floor, under the basin-stand, caught her eye. It was half-a-crown.
+She looked at it, and as the temptation came into her heart to steal, she
+raised her eyes and looked round the room.
+
+She was in John's room--in the sneak's room. No one was about. She would
+have cut off one of her fingers for the coin. That half-crown meant
+pleasure and a happiness so tender and seductive that she closed her eyes
+for a moment. The half-crown she held between forefinger and thumb
+presented a ready solution of the besetting difficulty. She threw out the
+insidious temptation, but it came quickly upon her again. If she did not
+take the half-crown she would not be able to go Peckham on Sunday. She
+could replace the money where she found it when she was paid her wages. No
+one knew it was there; it had evidently rolled there, and having tumbled
+between the carpet and the wall had not been discovered. It had probably
+lain there for months, perhaps it was utterly forgotten. Besides, she need
+not take it now. It would be quite safe if she put it back in its place;
+on Sunday afternoon she would take it, and if she changed it at once--It
+was not marked. She examined it all over. No, it was not marked. Then the
+desire paused, and she wondered how she, an honest girl, who had never
+harboured a dishonest thought in her life before, could desire to steal; a
+bitter feeling of shame came upon her.
+
+It was a case of flying from temptation, and she left the room so
+hurriedly that John, who was spying in the passage, had not time either to
+slip downstairs or to hide in his brother's room. They met face to face.
+
+"Oh, I beg pardon, sir, but I found this half-crown in your room."
+
+"Well, there's nothing wonderful in that. What are you so agitated about?
+I suppose you intended to return it to me?"
+
+"Intended to return it! Of course."
+
+An expression of hate and contempt leaped into her handsome grey eyes,
+and, like a dog's, the red lip turned down. She suddenly understood that
+this pasty-faced, despicable chap had placed the coin where it might have
+accidentally rolled, where she would be likely to find it. He had
+complained that morning that she did not keep his room sufficiently clean!
+It was a carefully-laid plan, he was watching her all the while, and no
+doubt thought that it was his own indiscretion that had prevented her from
+falling into the snare. Without a word Esther dropped the half-crown at
+his feet and returned to her work; and all the time she remained in her
+present situation she persistently refused to speak to him; she brought
+him what he asked for, but never answered him, even with a Yes or No.
+
+It was during the few minutes' rest after dinner that the burden of the
+day pressed heaviest upon her; then a painful weariness grew into her
+limbs, and it seemed impossible to summon strength and will to beat
+carpets or sweep down the stairs. But if she were not moving about before
+the clock struck, Mrs. Bingley came down to the kitchen.
+
+"Now, Esther, is there nothing for you to do?"
+
+And again, about eight o'clock, she felt too tired to bear the weight of
+her own flesh. She had passed through fourteen hours of almost
+unintermittent toil, and it seemed to her that she would never be able to
+summon up sufficient courage to get through the last three hours. It was
+this last summit that taxed all her strength and all her will. Even the
+rest that awaited her at eleven o'clock was blighted by the knowledge of
+the day that was coming; and its cruel hours, long and lean and
+hollow-eyed, stared at her through the darkness. She was often too tired
+to rest, and rolled over and over in her miserable garret bed, her whole
+body aching. Toil crushed all that was human out of her; even her baby was
+growing indifferent to her. If it were to die! She did not desire her
+baby's death, but she could not forget what the baby-farmer had told
+her--the burden would not become lighter, it would become heavier and
+heavier. What would become of her? Was there no hope? She buried her face
+in her pillow, seeking to escape from the passion of her despair. She was
+an unfortunate girl, and had missed all her chances.
+
+In the six months she had spent in the house in Chelsea her nature had
+been strained to the uttermost, and what we call chance now came to decide
+the course of her destiny. The fight between circumstances and character
+had gone till now in favour of character, but circumstances must call up
+no further forces against character. A hair would turn the scale either
+way. One morning she was startled out of her sleep by a loud knocking at
+the door. It was Mrs. Bingley, who had come to ask her if she knew what
+time it was. It was nearly seven o'clock. But Mrs. Bingley could not blame
+her much, having herself forgotten to put on the electric bell, and Esther
+hurried through her dressing. But in hurrying she happened to tread on her
+dress, tearing it right across. It was most unfortunate, and just when she
+was most in a hurry. She held up the torn skirt. It was a poor, frayed,
+worn-out rag that would hardly bear mending again. Her mistress was
+calling her; there was nothing for it but to run down and tell her what
+had happened.
+
+"Haven't you got another dress that you can put on?"
+
+"No, ma'am."
+
+"Really, I can't have you going to the door in that thing. You don't do
+credit to my house; you must get yourself a new dress at once."
+
+Esther muttered that she had no money to buy one.
+
+"Then I don't know what you do with your money."
+
+"What I do with my wages is my affair; I've plenty of use for my money."
+
+"I cannot allow any servant of mine to speak to me like that."
+
+Esther did not answer, and Mrs. Bingley continued--
+
+"It is my duty to know what you do with your money, and to see that you do
+not spend it in any wrong way. I am responsible for your moral welfare."
+
+"Then, ma'am, I think I had better leave you."
+
+"Leave me, because I don't wish you to spend your money wrongfully,
+because I know the temptations that a young girl's life is beset with?"
+
+"There ain't much chance of temptation for them who work seventeen hours a
+day."
+
+"Esther, you seem to forget--"
+
+"No, ma'am; but there's no use talking about what I do with my
+money--there are other reasons; the place is too hard a one. I've felt it
+so for some time, ma'am. My health ain't equal to it."
+
+Once she had spoken, Esther showed no disposition to retract, and she
+steadily resisted all Mrs. Bingley's solicitations to remain with her. She
+knew the risk she was running in leaving her situation, and yet she felt
+she must yield to an instinct like that which impels the hunted animal to
+leave the cover and seek safety in the open country. Her whole body cried
+out for rest, she must have rest; that was the thing that must be. Mrs.
+Lewis would keep her and her baby for twelve shillings a week; the present
+was the Christmas quarter, and she was richer by five and twenty shillings
+than she had been before. Mrs. Bingley had given her ten shillings, Mr.
+Hubert five, and the other ten had been contributed by the four young
+ladies. Out of this money she hoped to be able to buy a dress and a pair
+of boots, as well as a fortnight's rest with Mrs. Lewis. She had
+determined on her plans some three weeks before her month's warning would
+expire, and henceforth the mountainous days of her servitude drew out
+interminably, seeming more than ever exhausting, and the longing in her
+heart to be free at times rose to her head, and her brain turned as if in
+delirium. Every time she sat down to a meal she remembered she was so many
+hours nearer to rest--a fortnight's rest--she could not afford more; but
+in her present slavery that fortnight seemed at once as a paradise and an
+eternity. Her only fear was that her health might give way, and that she
+would be laid up during the time she intended for rest--personal rest. Her
+baby was lost sight of. Even a mother demands something in return for her
+love, and in the last year Jackie had taken much and given nothing. But
+when she opened Mrs. Lewis's door he came running to her, calling her
+Mummie; and the immediate preference he showed for her, climbing on her
+knees instead of on Mrs. Lewis's, was a fresh sowing of love in the
+mother's heart.
+
+They were in the midst of those few days of sunny weather which come in
+January, deluding us so with their brightness and warmth that we look
+round for roses and are astonished to see the earth bare of flowers. And
+these bright afternoons Esther spent entirely with Jackie. At the top of
+the hill their way led through a narrow passage between a brick wall and a
+high paling. She had always to carry him through this passage, for the
+ground there was sloppy and dirty, and the child wanted to stop to watch
+the pigs through the chinks in the boards. But when they came to the
+smooth, wide, high roads overlooking the valley, she put him down, and he
+would run on ahead, crying, "Turn for a walk, Mummie, turn along," and his
+little feet went so quickly beneath his frock that it seemed as if he were
+on wheels. She followed, often forced to break into a run, tremulous lest
+he should fall. They descended the hill into the ornamental park, and
+spent happy hours amid geometrically-designed flower-beds and curving
+walks. She ventured with him as far as the old Dulwich village, and they
+strolled through the long street. Behind the street were low-lying,
+shiftless fields, intersected with broken hedges. And when Jackie called
+to his mother to carry him, she rejoiced in the labour of his weight; and
+when he grew too heavy, she rested on the farm-gate, and looked into the
+vague lowlands. And when the chill of night awoke her from her dream she
+clasped Jackie to her bosom and turned towards home, very soon to lose
+herself again in another tide of happiness.
+
+The evenings, too, were charming. When the candles were lighted, and tea
+was on the table, Esther sat with the dozing child on her knee, looking
+into the flickering fire, her mind a reverie, occasionally broken by the
+homely talk of her companion; and when the baby was laid in his cot she
+took up her sewing--she was making herself a new dress; or else the great
+kettle was steaming on the hob, and the women stood over the washing-tubs.
+On the following evening they worked on either side of the ironing-table,
+the candle burning brightly and their vague woman's chatter sounding
+pleasant in the hush of the little cottage. A little after nine they were
+in bed, and so the days went softly, like happy, trivial dreams. It was
+not till the end of the third week that Mrs. Lewis would hear of Esther
+looking out for another place. And then Esther was surprised at her good
+fortune. A friend of Mrs. Lewis's knew a servant who was leaving her
+situation in the West End of London. Esther got the address, and went next
+day after the place. She was fortunate enough to obtain it, and her
+mistress seemed well satisfied with her. But one day in the beginning of
+her second year of service she was told that her mistress wished to speak
+to her in the dining-room.
+
+"I fancy," said the cook, "that it is about that baby of yours; they're
+very strict here."
+
+Mrs. Trubner was sitting on a low wicker chair by the fire. She was a
+large woman with eagle features. Her eyesight had been failing for some
+years, and her maid was reading to her. The maid closed the book and left
+the room.
+
+"It has come to my knowledge, Waters, that you have a child. You're not a
+married woman, I believe?"
+
+"I've been unfortunate; I've a child, but that don't make no difference so
+long as I gives satisfaction in my work. I don't think that the cook has
+complained, ma'am."
+
+"No, the cook hasn't complained, but had I known this I don't think I
+should have engaged you. In the character which you showed me, Mrs.
+Barfield said that she believed you to be a thoroughly religious girl at
+heart."
+
+"And I hope I am that, ma'am. I'm truly sorry for my fault. I've suffered
+a great deal."
+
+"So you all say; but supposing it were to happen again, and in my house?
+Supposing----"
+
+"Then don't you think, ma'am, there is repentance and forgiveness? Our
+Lord said----"
+
+"You ought to have told me; and as for Mrs. Barfield, her conduct is most
+reprehensible."
+
+"Then, ma'am, would you prevent every poor girl who has had a misfortune
+from earning her bread? If they was all like you there would be more girls
+who'd do away with themselves and their babies. You don't know how hard
+pressed we are. The baby-farmer says, 'Give me five pounds and I'll find a
+good woman who wants a little one, and you shall hear no more about it.'
+Them very words were said to me. I took him away and hoped to be able to
+rear him, but if I'm to lose my situations----"
+
+"I should be sorry to prevent anyone from earning their bread----"
+
+"You're a mother yourself, ma'am, and you know what it is."
+
+"Really, it's quite different.... I don't know what you mean, Waters."
+
+"I mean that if I am to lose my situations on account of my baby, I don't
+know what will become of me. If I give satisfaction--"
+
+At that moment Mr. Trubner entered. He was a large, stout man, with his
+mother's aquiline features. He arrived with his glasses on his nose, and
+slightly out of breath.
+
+"Oh, oh, I didn't know, mother," he blurted out, and was about to withdraw
+when Mrs. Trubner said--
+
+"This is the new servant whom that lady in Sussex recommended."
+
+Esther saw a look of instinctive repulsion come over his face.
+
+"I'll leave you to settle with her, mother."
+
+"I must speak to you, Harold--I must."
+
+"I really can't; I know nothing of this matter."
+
+He tried to leave the room, and when his mother stopped him he said
+testily, "Well, what is it? I am very busy just now, and--" Mrs. Trubner
+told Esther to wait in the passage.
+
+"Well," said Mr. Trubner, "have you discharged her? I leave all these
+things to you."
+
+"She has told me her story; she is trying to bring up her child on her
+wages.... She said if she was kept from earning her bread she didn't know
+what would become of her. Her position is a very terrible one."
+
+"I know that.... But we can't have loose women about the place. They all
+can tell a fine story; the world is full of impostors."
+
+"I don't think the girl is an impostor."
+
+"Very likely not, but everyone has a right to protect themselves."
+
+"Don't speak so loud, Harold," said Mrs. Trubner, lowering her voice.
+"Remember her child is dependent upon her; if we send her away we don't
+know what may happen. I'll pay her a month's wages if you like, but you
+must take the responsibility."
+
+"I won't take any responsibility in the matter. If she had been here two
+years--she has only been here a year--not so much more--and had proved a
+satisfactory servant, I don't say that we'd be justified in sending her
+away.... There are plenty of good girls who want a situation as much as
+she. I don't see why we should harbour loose women when there are so many
+deserving cases."
+
+"Then you want me to send her away?"
+
+"I don't want to interfere; you ought to know how to act. Supposing the
+same thing were to happen again? My cousins, young men, coming to the
+house--"
+
+"But she won't see them."
+
+"Do as you like; it is your business, not mine. It doesn't matter to me,
+so long as I'm not interfered with; keep her if you like. You ought to
+have looked into her character more closely before you engaged her. I
+think that the lady who recommended her ought to be written to very
+sharply."
+
+They had forgotten to close the door, and Esther stood in the passage
+burning and choking with shame.
+
+"It is a strange thing that religion should make some people so
+unfeeling," Esther thought as she left Onslow Square.
+
+It was necessary to keep her child secret, and in her next situation she
+shunned intimacy with her fellow-servants, and was so strict in her
+conduct that she exposed herself to their sneers. She dreaded the remark
+that she always went out alone, and often arrived at the cottage
+breathless with fear and expectation--at a cottage where a little boy
+stood by a stout middle-aged woman, turning over the pages of the
+illustrated papers that his mother had brought him; she had no money to
+buy him toys. Dropping the Illustrated London News, he cried, "Here is
+Mummie," and ran to her with outstretched arms. Ah, what an embrace! Mrs.
+Lewis continued her sewing, and for an hour or more Esther told about her
+fellow-servants, about the people she lived with, the conversation
+interrupted by the child calling his mother's attention to the pictures,
+or by the delicate intrusion of his little hand into hers.
+
+Her clothes were her great difficulty, and she often thought that she
+would rather go back to the slavery of the house in Chelsea than bear the
+humiliation of going out any longer on Sunday in the old things that the
+servants had seen her in for eight or nine months or more. She was made to
+feel that she was the lowest of the low--the servant of servants. She had
+to accept everybody's sneer and everybody's bad language, and oftentimes
+gross familiarity, in order to avoid arguments and disputes which might
+endanger her situation. She had to shut her eyes to the thefts of cooks;
+she had to fetch them drink, and to do their work when they were unable to
+do it themselves. But there was no help for it. She could not pick and
+choose where she would live, and any wages above sixteen pound a year she
+must always accept, and put up with whatever inconvenience she might meet.
+
+Hers is an heroic adventure if one considers it--a mother's fight for the
+life of her child against all the forces that civilisation arrays against
+the lowly and the illegitimate. She is in a situation to-day, but on what
+security does she hold it? She is strangely dependent on her own health,
+and still more upon the fortunes and the personal caprice of her
+employers; and she realised the perils of her life when an outcast mother
+at the corner of the street, stretching out of her rags a brown hand and
+arm, asked alms for the sake of the little children. Esther remembered
+then that three months out of a situation and she too would be on the
+street as a flower-seller, match-seller, or----
+
+It did not seem, however, that any of these fears were to be realised. Her
+luck had mended; for nearly two years she had been living with some rich
+people in the West End; she liked her mistress and was on good terms with
+her fellow servants, and had it not been for an accident she could have
+kept this situation. The young gentlemen had come home for their summer
+holidays; she had stepped aside to let Master Harry pass on the stairs.
+But he did not go by, and there was a strange smile on his face.
+
+"Look here, Esther, I'm awfully fond of you. You are the prettiest girl
+I've ever seen. Come out for a walk with me next Sunday."
+
+"Master Harry, I'm surprised at you; will you let me go by at once?"
+
+There was no one near, the house was silent, and the boy stood on the step
+above her. He tried to throw his arm round her waist, but she shook him
+off and went up to her room calm with indignation. A few days afterward
+she suddenly became aware that he was following her in the street. She
+turned sharply upon him.
+
+"Master Harry, I know that this is only a little foolishness on your part,
+but if you don't leave off I shall lose my situation, and I'm sure you
+don't want to do me an injury."
+
+Master Harry seemed sorry, and he promised not to follow her in the street
+again. And never thinking that it was he who had written the letter she
+received a few days after, she asked Annie, the upper housemaid, to read
+it. It contained reference to meetings and unalterable affection, and it
+concluded with a promise to marry her if she lost her situation through
+his fault. Esther listened like one stunned. A schoolboy's folly, the
+first silly sentimentality of a boy, a thing lighter than the lightest
+leaf that falls, had brought disaster upon her.
+
+If Annie had not seen the letter she might have been able to get the boy
+to listen to reason; but Annie had seen the letter, and Annie could not be
+trusted. The story would be sure to come out, and then she would lose her
+character as well as her situation. It was a great pity. Her mistress had
+promised to have her taught cooking at South Kensington, and a cook's
+wages would secure her and her child against all ordinary accidents. She
+would never get such a chance again, and would remain a kitchen-maid to
+the end of her days. And acting on the impulse of the moment she went
+straight to the drawing-room. Her mistress was alone, and Esther handed
+her the letter. "I thought you had better see this at once, ma'am. I did
+not want you to think it was my fault. Of course the young gentleman means
+no harm."
+
+"Has anyone seen this letter?"
+
+"I showed it to Annie. I'm no scholar myself, and the writing was
+difficult."
+
+"You have no reason for supposing----How often did Master Harry speak to
+you in this way?"
+
+"Only twice, ma'am."
+
+"Of course it is only a little foolishness. I needn't say that he doesn't
+mean what he says."
+
+"I told him, ma'am, that if he continued I should lose my situation."
+
+"I'm sorry to part with you, Esther, but I really think that the best way
+will be for you to leave. I am much obliged to you for showing me this
+letter. Master Harry, you see, says that he is going away to the country
+for a week. He left this morning. So I really think that a month's wages
+will settle matters nicely. You are an excellent servant, and I shall be
+glad to recommend you."
+
+Then Esther heard her mistress mutter something about the danger of
+good-looking servants. And Esther was paid a month's wages, and left that
+afternoon.
+
+
+
+
+XXI
+
+
+It was the beginning of August, and London yawned in every street; the
+dust blew unslaked, and a little cloud curled and disappeared over the
+crest of the hill at Hyde Park Corner; the streets and St. George's Place
+looked out with blind, white eyes; and in the deserted Park the trees
+tossed their foliage restlessly, as if they wearied and missed the fashion
+of their season. And all through Park Lane and Mayfair, caretakers and
+gaunt cats were the traces that the caste on which Esther depended had
+left of its departed presence. She was coming from the Alexandra Hotel,
+where she had heard a kitchen-maid was wanted. Mrs. Lewis had urged her to
+wait until people began to come back to town. Good situations were rarely
+obtainable in the summer months; it would be bad policy to take a bad one,
+even if it were only for a while. Besides, she had saved a little money,
+and, feeling that she required a rest, had determined to take this advice.
+But as luck would have it Jackie fell ill before she had been at Dulwich a
+week. His illness made a big hole in her savings, and it had become
+evident that she would have to set to work and at once.
+
+She turned into the park. She was going north, to a registry office near
+Oxford Street, which Mrs. Lewis had recommended. Holborn Row was difficult
+to find, and she had to ask the way very often, but she suddenly knew that
+she was in the right street by the number of servant-girls going and
+coming from the office, and in company with five others Esther ascended a
+gloomy little staircase. The office was on the first floor. The doors were
+open, and they passed into a special odour of poverty, as it were, into an
+atmosphere of mean interests.
+
+Benches covered with red plush were on either side, and these were
+occupied by fifteen or twenty poorly-dressed women. A little old woman,
+very white and pale, stood near the window recounting her misfortunes to
+no one in particular.
+
+"I lived with her more than thirty years; I brought up all the children. I
+entered her service as nurse, and when the children grew up I was given
+the management of everything. For the last fifteen years my mistress was a
+confirmed invalid. She entrusted everything to me. Oftentimes she took my
+hand and said, 'You are a good creature, Holmes, you mustn't think of
+leaving me; how should I get on without you?' But when she died they had
+to part with me; they said they were very sorry, and wouldn't have thought
+of doing so, only they were afraid I was getting too old for the work. I
+daresay I was wrong to stop so long in one situation. I shouldn't have
+done so, but she always used to say, 'You mustn't leave us; we never shall
+be able to get on without you.'"
+
+At that moment the secretary, an alert young woman with a decisive voice,
+came through the folding doors.
+
+"I will not have all this talking," she said. Her quick eyes fell on the
+little old woman, and she came forward a few steps. "What, you here again,
+Miss Holmes? I've told you that when I hear of anything that will suit you
+I'll write."
+
+"So you said, Miss, but my little savings are running short. I'm being
+pressed for my rent."
+
+"I can't help that; when I hear of anything I'll write. But I can't have
+you coming here every third day wasting my time; now run along." And
+having made casual remarks about the absurdity of people of that age
+coming after situations, she called three or four women to her desk, of
+whom Esther was one. She examined them critically, and seemed especially
+satisfied with Esther's appearance.
+
+"It will be difficult," she said, "to find you the situation you want
+before people begin to return to town. If you were only an inch or two
+taller I could get you a dozen places as housemaid; tall servants are all
+the fashion, and you are the right age--about five-and-twenty."
+
+Esther left a dozen stamps with her, and soon after she began to receive
+letters containing the addresses of ladies who required servants. They
+were of all sorts, for the secretary seemed to exercise hardly any
+discrimination, and Esther was sent on long journeys from Brixton to
+Notting Hill to visit poor people who could hardly afford a
+maid-of-all-work. These useless journeys were very fatiguing. Sometimes
+she was asked to call at a house in Bayswater, and thence she had to go to
+High Street, Kensington, or Earl's Court; a third address might be in
+Chelsea. She could only guess which was the best chance, and while she was
+hesitating the situation might be given away. Very often the ladies were
+out, and she was asked to call later in the day. These casual hours she
+spent in the parks, mending Jackie's socks or hemming pocket
+handkerchiefs, so she was frequently delayed till evening; and in the
+mildness of the summer twilight, with some fresh disappointment lying
+heavy on her heart, she made her way from the Marble Arch round the barren
+Serpentine into Piccadilly, with its stream of light beginning in the
+sunset.
+
+And standing at the kerb of Piccadilly Circus, waiting for a 'bus to take
+her to Ludgate Hill Station, the girl grew conscious of the moving
+multitude that filled the streets. The great restaurants rose up calm and
+violet in the evening sky, the Cafe Monico, with its air of French
+newspapers and Italian wines; and before the grey facade of the
+fashionable Criterion hansoms stopped and dinner parties walked across the
+pavement. The fine weather had brought the women up earlier than usual
+from the suburbs. They came up the long road from Fulham, with white
+dresses floating from their hips, and feather boas waving a few inches
+from the pavement. But through this elegant disguise Esther could pick out
+the servant-girls. Their stories were her story. They had been deserted,
+as she had been; and perhaps each had a child to support, only they had
+not been so lucky as she had been in finding situations.
+
+But now luck seemed to have deserted her. It was the middle of September
+and she had not yet been able to find the situation she wanted; and it had
+become more and more distressing to her to refuse sixteen pound a year.
+She had calculated it all out, and nothing less than eighteen pound was of
+any use to her. With eighteen pound and a kind mistress who would give her
+an old dress occasionally she could do very well. But if she didn't find
+these two pounds she did not know what she should do. She might drag on
+for a time on sixteen pound, but such wages would drive her in the end
+into the workhouse. If it were not for the child! But she would never
+desert her darling boy, who loved her so dearly, come what might. A sudden
+imagination let her see him playing in the little street, waiting for her
+to come home, and her love for him went to her head like madness. She
+wondered at herself; it seemed almost unnatural to love anything as she
+did this child.
+
+Then, in a shiver of fear, determined to save her 'bus fare, she made her
+way through Leicester Square. She was a good-looking girl, who hastened
+her steps when addressed by a passer-by or crossed the roadway in sullen
+indignation, and who looked in contempt on the silks and satins which
+turned into the Empire, and she seemed to lose heart utterly. She had been
+walking all day and had not tasted food since the morning, and the
+weakness of the flesh brought a sudden weakness of the spirit. She felt
+that she could struggle no more, that the whole world was against her--she
+felt that she must have food and drink and rest. All this London tempted
+her, and the cup was at her lips. A young man in evening clothes had
+spoken to her. His voice was soft, the look in his eyes seemed kindly.
+
+Thinking of the circumstances ten minutes later it seemed to her that she
+had intended to answer him. But she was now at Charing Cross. There was a
+lightness, an emptiness in her head which she could not overcome, and the
+crowd appeared to her like a blurred, noisy dream. And then the dizziness
+left her, and she realised the temptation she had escaped. Here, as in
+Piccadilly, she could pick out the servant girls; but here their service
+was yesterday's lodging-house--poor and dissipated girls, dressed in vague
+clothes fixed with hazardous pins. Two young women strolled in front of
+her. They hung on each other's arms, talking lazily. They had just come
+out of an eating-house, and a happy digestion was in their eyes. The skirt
+on the outside was a soiled mauve, and the bodice that went with it was a
+soiled chocolate. A broken yellow plume hung out of a battered hat. The
+skirt on the inside was a dim green, and little was left of the cotton
+velvet jacket but the cotton. A girl of sixteen walking sturdily, like a
+little man, crossed the road, her left hand thrust deep into the pocket of
+her red cashmere dress. She wore on her shoulders a strip of beaded
+mantle; her hair was plaited and tied with a red ribbon. Corpulent women
+passed, their eyes liquid with invitation; and the huge bar-loafer, the
+man of fifty, the hooked nose and the waxed moustache, stood at the door
+of a restaurant, passing the women in review.
+
+A true London of the water's edge--a London of theatres, music-halls,
+wine-shops, public-houses--the walls painted various colours, nailed over
+with huge gold lettering; the pale air woven with delicate wire, a
+gossamer web underneath which the crowd moved like lazy flies, one half
+watching the perforated spire of St. Mary's, and all the City spires
+behind it now growing cold in the east, the other half seeing the spire of
+St. Martin's above the chimney-pots aloft in a sky of cream pink. Stalwart
+policemen urged along groups of slattern boys and girls; and after vulgar
+remonstrance these took the hint and disappeared down strange passages.
+Suddenly Esther came face to face with a woman whom she recognised as
+Margaret Gale.
+
+"What, is it you, Margaret?"
+
+"Yes, it is me all right. What are you doing up here? Got tired of
+service? Come and have a drink, old gal."
+
+"No, thank you; I'm glad to have seen you, Margaret, but I've a train to
+catch."
+
+"That won't do," said Margaret, catching her by the arm; "we must have a
+drink and a talk over old times."
+
+Esther felt that if she did not have something she would faint before she
+reached Ludgate Hill, and Margaret led the way through the public-house,
+opening all the varnished doors, seeking a quiet corner. "What's the
+matter?" she said, startled at the pallor of Esther's face.
+
+"Only a little faintness; I've not had anything to eat all day."
+
+"Quick, quick, four of brandy and some water," Margaret cried to the
+barman, and a moment after she was holding the glass to her friend's lips.
+"Not had anything to eat all day, dear? Then we'll have a bite and a sup
+together. I feel a bit peckish myself. Two sausages and two rolls and
+butter," she cried. Then the women had a long talk. Margaret told Esther
+the story of her misfortune.
+
+The Barfields were all broken up. They had been very unlucky racing, and
+when the servants got the sack Margaret had come up to London. She had
+been in several situations. Eventually, one of her masters had got her
+into trouble, his wife had turned her out neck and crop, and what was she
+to do? Then Esther told how Master Harry had lost her her situation.
+
+"And you left like that? Well I never! The better one behaves the worse
+one gets treated, and them that goes on with service find themselves in
+the end without as much as will buy them a Sunday dinner."
+
+Margaret insisted on accompanying Esther, and they walked together as far
+as Wellington Street. "I can't go any further," and pointing to where
+London seemed to end in a piece of desolate sky, she said, "I live on the
+other side, in Stamford Street. You might come and see me. If you ever get
+tired of service you'll get decent rooms there."
+
+Bad weather followed fine, and under a streaming umbrella Esther went from
+one address to another, her damp skirts clinging about her and her boots
+clogged with mud. She looked upon the change in the weather as
+unfortunate, for in getting a situation so much depended on personal
+appearance and cheerfulness of manner; and it is difficult to seem a right
+and tidy girl after two miles' walk through the rain.
+
+One lady told Esther that she liked tall servants, another said she never
+engaged good-looking girls, and another place that would have suited her
+was lost through unconsciously answering that she was chapel. The lady
+would have nothing in her house but church. Then there were the
+disappointments occasioned by the letters which she received from people
+who she thought would have engaged her, saying they were sorry, but that
+they had seen some one whom they liked better.
+
+Another week passed and Esther had to pawn her clothes to get money for
+her train fare to London, and to keep the registry office supplied with
+stamps. Her prospects had begun to seem quite hopeless, and she lay awake
+thinking that she and Jackie must go back to the workhouse. They could not
+stop on at Mrs. Lewis's much longer. Mrs. Lewis had been very good to
+them, but Esther owed her two weeks' money. What was to be done? She had
+heard of charitable institutions, but she was an ignorant girl and did not
+know how to make the necessary inquiries. Oh, the want of a little
+money--of a very little money; the thought beat into her brain. For just
+enough to hold on till the people came back to town.
+
+One day Mrs. Lewis, who read the newspapers for her, came to her with an
+advertisement which she said seemed to read like a very likely chance.
+Esther looked at the pence which remained out of the last dress that she
+had pawned.
+
+"I'm afraid," she said, "it will turn out like the others; I'm out of my
+luck."
+
+"Don't say that," said Mrs. Lewis; "keep your courage up; I'll stick to
+you as long as I can."
+
+The women had a good cry in each other's arms, and then Mrs. Lewis advised
+Esther to take the situation, even if it were no more than sixteen. "A lot
+can be done by constant saving, and if she gives yer 'er dresses and ten
+shillings for a Christmas-box, I don't see why you should not pull
+through. The baby shan't cost you more than five shillings a week till you
+get a situation as plain cook. Here is the address--Miss Rice, Avondale
+Road, West Kensington."
+
+
+
+
+XXII
+
+
+Avondale Road was an obscure corner of the suburb--obscure, for it had
+just sprung into existence. The scaffolding that had built it now littered
+an adjoining field, where in a few months it would rise about Horsely
+Gardens, whose red gables and tiled upper walls will correspond
+unfailingly with those of Avondale Road. Nowhere in this neighbourhood
+could Esther detect signs of eighteen pounds a year. Scanning the Venetian
+blinds of the single drawing-room window, she said to herself, "Hot joint
+today, cold the next." She noted the trim iron railings and the spare
+shrubs, and raising her eyes she saw the tiny gable windows of the
+cupboard-like rooms where the single servant kept in these houses slept.
+
+A few steps more brought her to 41, the corner house. The thin passage and
+the meagre staircase confirmed Esther in the impression she had received
+from the aspect of the street; and she felt that the place was more
+suitable to the gaunt woman with iron-grey hair who waited in the passage.
+This woman looked apprehensively at Esther, and when Esther said that she
+had come after the place a painful change of expression passed over her
+face, and she said--
+
+"You'll get it; I'm too old for anything but charing. How much are you
+going to ask?"
+
+"I can't take less than sixteen."
+
+"Sixteen! I used to get that once; I'd be glad enough to get twelve now.
+You can't think of sixteen once you've turned forty, and I've lost my
+teeth, and they means a couple of pound off."
+
+Then the door opened, and a woman's voice called to the gaunt woman to
+come in. She went in, and Esther breathed a prayer that she might not be
+engaged. A minute intervened, and the gaunt woman came out; there were
+tears in her eyes, and she whispered to Esther as she passed, "No good; I
+told you so. I'm too old for anything but charing." The abruptness of the
+interview suggested a hard mistress, and Esther was surprised to find
+herself in the presence of a slim lady, about seven-and-thirty, whose
+small grey eyes seemed to express a kind and gentle nature. As she stood
+speaking to her, Esther saw a tall glass filled with chrysanthemums and a
+large writing-table covered with books and papers. There was a bookcase,
+and in place of the usual folding-doors, a bead curtain hung between the
+rooms.
+
+The room almost said that the occupant was a spinster and a writer, and
+Esther remembered that she had noticed even at the time Miss Rice's
+manuscript, it was such a beautiful clear round hand, and it lay on the
+table, ready to be continued the moment she should have settled with her.
+
+"I saw your advertisement in the paper, miss; I've come after the
+situation."
+
+"You are used to service?"
+
+"Yes, miss, I've had several situations in gentlemen's families, and have
+excellent characters from them all." Then Esther related the story of her
+situations, and Miss Rice put up her glasses and her grey eyes smiled. She
+seemed pleased with the somewhat rugged but pleasant-featured girl before
+her.
+
+"I live alone," she said; "the place is an easy one, and if the wages
+satisfy you, I think you will suit me very well. My servant, who has been
+with me some years, is leaving me to be married."
+
+"What are the wages, miss?"
+
+"Fourteen pounds a year."
+
+"I'm afraid, miss, there would be no use my taking the place; I've so many
+calls on my money that I could not manage on fourteen pounds. I'm very
+sorry, for I feel sure I should like to live with you, miss."
+
+But what was the good of taking the place? She could not possibly manage
+on fourteen, even if Miss Rice did give her a dress occasionally, and that
+didn't look likely. All her strength seemed to give way under her
+misfortune, and it was with difficulty that she restrained her tears.
+
+"I think we should suit each other," Miss Rice said reflectively.
+
+"I should like to have you for my servant if I could afford it. How much
+would you take?"
+
+"Situated, as I am, miss, I could not take less than sixteen. I've been
+used to eighteen."
+
+"Sixteen pounds is more than I can afford, but I'll think it over. Give me
+your name and address."
+
+"Esther Waters, 13 Poplar Road, Dulwich."
+
+As Esther turned to go she became aware of the kindness of the eyes that
+looked at her. Miss Rice said--
+
+"I'm afraid you're in trouble.... Sit down; tell me about it."
+
+"No, miss, what's the use?" But Miss Rice looked at her so kindly that
+Esther could not restrain herself. "There's nothing for it," she said,
+"but to go back to the workhouse."
+
+"But why should you go to the workhouse? I offer you fourteen pounds a
+year and everything found."
+
+"You see, miss, I've a baby; we've been in the workhouse already; I had to
+go there the night I left my situation, to get him away from Mrs. Spires;
+she wanted to kill him; she'd have done it for five pounds--that's the
+price. But, miss, my story is not one that can be told to a lady such as
+you."
+
+"I think I'm old enough to listen to your story; sit down, and tell it to
+me."
+
+And all the while Miss Rice's eyes were filled with tenderness and pity.
+
+"A very sad story--just such a story as happens every day. But you have
+been punished, you have indeed."
+
+"Yes, miss, I think I have; and after all these years of striving it is
+hard to have to take him back to the workhouse. Not that I want to give
+out that I was badly treated there, but it is the child I'm thinking of.
+He was then a little baby and it didn't matter; we was only there a few
+months. There's no one that knows of it but me. But he's a growing boy
+now, he'll remember the workhouse, and it will be always a disgrace."
+
+"How old is he?"
+
+"He was six last May, miss. It has been a hard job to bring him up. I now
+pay six shillings a week for him, that's more than fourteen pounds a year,
+and you can't do much in the way of clothes on two pounds a year. And now
+that he's growing up he's costing more than ever; but Mrs. Lewis--that's
+the woman what has brought him up--is as fond of him as I am myself. She
+don't want to make nothing out of his keep, and that's how I've managed up
+to the present. But I see well enough that it can't be done; his expense
+increases, and the wages remains the same. It was my pride to bring him up
+on my earnings, and my hope to see him an honest man earning good money.
+But it wasn't to be, miss, it wasn't to be. We must be humble and go back
+to the workhouse."
+
+"I can see that it has been a hard fight."
+
+"It has indeed, miss; no one will ever know how hard. I shouldn't mind if
+it wasn't going to end by going back to where it started.... They'll take
+him from me; I shall never see him while he is there. I wish I was dead,
+miss, I can't bear my trouble no longer."
+
+"You shan't go back to the workhouse so long as I can help you. Esther,
+I'll give you the wages you ask for. It is more than I can afford.
+Eighteen pounds a year! But your child shall not be taken from you. You
+shall not go to the workhouse. There aren't many such good women in the
+world as you, Esther."
+
+
+
+
+XXIII
+
+
+From the first Miss Rice was interested in her servant, and encouraged her
+confidences. But it was some time before either was able to put aside her
+natural reserve. They were not unlike--quiet, instinctive Englishwomen,
+strong, warm natures, under an appearance of formality and reserve.
+
+The instincts of the watch-dog soon began to develop in Esther, and she
+extended her supervision over all the household expenses, likewise over
+her mistress's health.
+
+"Now, miss, I must 'ave you take your soup while it is 'ot. You'd better
+put away your writing; you've been at it all the morning. You'll make
+yourself ill, and then I shall have the nursing of you." If Miss Rice were
+going out in the evening she would find herself stopped in the passage.
+"Now, miss, I really can't see you go out like that; you'll catch your
+death of cold. You must put on your warm cloak."
+
+Miss Rice's friends were principally middle-aged ladies. Her sisters,
+large, stout women, used to come and see her, and there was a
+fashionably-dressed young man whom her mistress seemed to like very much.
+Mr. Alden was his name, and Miss Rice told Esther that he, too, wrote
+novels; they used to talk about each other's books for hours, and Esther
+feared that Miss Rice was giving her heart away to one who did not care
+for her. But perhaps she was satisfied to see Mr. Alden once a week and
+talk for an hour with him about books. Esther didn't think she'd care, if
+she had a young man, to see him come and go like a shadow. But she hadn't
+a young man, and did not want one. All she now wanted was to awake in the
+morning and know that her child was safe; her ambition was to make her
+mistress's life comfortable. And for more than a year she pursued her plan
+of life unswervingly. She declined an offer of marriage, and was rarely
+persuaded into a promise to walk out with any of her admirers. One of
+these was a stationer's foreman, and almost every day Esther went to the
+stationer's for the sermon paper on which her mistress wrote her novels,
+for blotting-paper, for stamps, to post letters--that shop seemed the
+centre of their lives.
+
+Fred Parsons--that was his name--was a meagre little man about
+thirty-five. A high and prominent forehead rose above a small pointed
+face, and a scanty growth of blonde beard and moustache did not conceal
+the receding chin nor the red sealing-wax lips. His faded yellow hair was
+beginning to grow thin, and his threadbare frock-coat hung limp from
+sloping shoulders. But these disadvantages were compensated by a clear
+bell-like voice, into which no trace of doubt ever seemed to come; and his
+mind was neatly packed with a few religious and political ideas. He had
+been in business in the West End, but an uncontrollable desire to ask
+every customer who entered into conversation with him if he were sure that
+he believed in the second coming of Christ had been the cause of severance
+between him and his employers.
+
+He had been at West Kensington a fortnight, had served Esther once with
+sermon paper, and had already begun to wonder what were her religious
+beliefs. But bearing in mind his recent dismissal, he refrained for the
+present. At the end of the week they were alone in the shop. Esther had
+come for a packet of note-paper. Fred was sorry she had not come for
+sermon paper; if she had it would have been easier to inquire her opinions
+regarding the second coming. But the opportunity, such as it was, was not
+to be resisted. He said--
+
+"Your mistress seems to use a great deal of paper; it was only a day or
+two ago that I served you with four quires."
+
+"That was for her books; what she now wants is note-paper."
+
+"So your mistress writes books!"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I hope they're good books--books that are helpful." He paused to see that
+no one was within earshot. "Books that bring sinners back to the Lord."
+
+"I don't know what she writes; I only know she writes books; I think I've
+heard she writes novels."
+
+Fred did not approve of novels--Esther could see that--and she was sorry;
+for he seemed a nice, clear-spoken young man, and she would have liked to
+tell him that her mistress was the last person who would write anything
+that could do harm to anyone. But her mistress was waiting for her paper,
+and she took leave of him hastily. The next time they met was in the
+evening. She was going to see if she could get some fresh eggs for her
+mistress's breakfast before the shops closed, and coming towards her,
+walking at a great pace, she saw one whom she thought she recognised, a
+meagre little man with long reddish hair curling under the brim of a large
+soft black hat. He nodded, smiling pleasantly as he passed her.
+
+"Lor'," she thought, "I didn't know him; it's the stationer's foreman."
+And the very next evening they met in the same street; she was out for a
+little walk, he was hurrying to catch his train. They stopped to pass the
+time of day, and three days after they met at the same time, and as nearly
+as possible at the same place.
+
+"We're always meeting," he said.
+
+"Yes, isn't it strange?... You come this way from business?" she said.
+
+"Yes; about eight o'clock is my time."
+
+It was the end of August; the stars caught fire slowly in the murky London
+sunset; and, vaguely conscious of a feeling of surprise at the pleasure
+they took in each other's company, they wandered round a little bleak
+square in which a few shrubs had just been planted. They took up the
+conversation exactly at the point where it had been broken off.
+
+"I'm sorry," Fred said, "that the paper isn't going to be put to better
+use."
+
+"You don't know my mistress, or you wouldn't say that."
+
+"Perhaps you don't know that novels are very often stories about the loves
+of men for other men's wives. Such books can serve no good purpose."
+
+"I'm sure my mistress don't write about such things. How could she, poor
+dear innocent lamb? It is easy to see you don't know her."
+
+In the course of their argument it transpired that Miss Rice went to
+neither church nor chapel.
+
+Fred was much shocked.
+
+"I hope," he said, "you do not follow your mistress's example."
+
+Esther admitted she had for some time past neglected her religion. Fred
+went so far as to suggest that she ought to leave her present situation
+and enter a truly religious family.
+
+"I owe her too much ever to think of leaving her. And it has nothing to do
+with her if I haven't thought as much about the Lord as I ought to have.
+It's the first place I've been in where there was time for religion."
+
+This answer seemed to satisfy Fred.
+
+"Where used you to go?"
+
+"My people--father and mother--belonged to the Brethren."
+
+"To the Close or the Open?"
+
+"I don't remember; I was only a little child at the time."
+
+"I'm a Plymouth Brother."
+
+"Well, that is strange."
+
+"Remember that it is only through belief in our Lord, in the sacrifice of
+the Cross, that we can be saved."
+
+"Yes, I believe that."
+
+The avowal seemed to have brought them strangely near to each other, and
+on the following Sunday Fred took Esther to meeting, and introduced her as
+one who had strayed, but who had never ceased to be one of them.
+
+She had not been to meeting since she was a little child; and the bare
+room and bare dogma, in such immediate accordance with her own
+nature--were they not associated with memories of home, of father and
+mother, of all that had gone?--touched her with a human delight that
+seemed to reach to the roots of her nature. It was Fred who preached; and
+he spoke of the second coming of Christ, when the faithful would be
+carried away in clouds of glory, of the rapine and carnage to which the
+world would be delivered up before final absorption in everlasting hell;
+and a sensation of dreadful awe passed over the listening faces; a young
+girl who sat with closed eyes put out her hand to assure herself that
+Esther was still there--that she had not been carried away in glory.
+
+As they walked home, Esther told Fred that she had not been so happy for a
+long time. He pressed her hand, and thanked her with a look in which
+appeared all his soul; she was his for ever and ever; nothing could wholly
+disassociate them; he had saved her soul. His exaltation moved her to
+wonder. But her own innate faith, though incapable of these exaltations,
+had supported her during many a troublous year. Fred would want her to
+come to meeting with him next Sunday, and she was going to Dulwich. Sooner
+or later he would find out that she had a child, then she would see him no
+more. It were better that she should tell him than that he should hear it
+from others. But she felt she could not bear the humiliation, the shame;
+and she wished they had never met. That child came between her and every
+possible happiness.... It were better to break off with Fred. But what
+excuse could she give? Everything went wrong with her. He might ask her to
+marry him, then she would have to tell him.
+
+Towards the end of the week she heard some one tap at the window; it was
+Fred. He asked her why he had not seen her; she answered that she had not
+had time.
+
+"Can you come out this evening?"
+
+"Yes, if you like."
+
+She put on her hat, and they went out. Neither spoke, but their feet took
+instinctively the pavement that led to the little square where they had
+walked the first time they went out together.
+
+"I've been thinking of you a good deal, Esther, in the last few days. I
+want to ask you to marry me."
+
+Esther did not answer.
+
+"Will you?" he said.
+
+"I can't; I'm very sorry; don't ask me."
+
+"Why can't you?"
+
+"If I told you I don't think you'd want to marry me. I suppose I'd better
+tell you. I'm not the good woman you think me. I've got a child. There,
+you have it now, and you can take your hook when you like."
+
+It was her blunt, sullen nature that had spoken; she didn't care if he
+left her on the spot--now he knew all and could do as he liked. At last,
+he said--
+
+"But you've repented, Esther?"
+
+"I should think I had, and been punished too, enough for a dozen
+children."
+
+"Ah, then it wasn't lately?"
+
+"Lately! It's nearly eight year ago."
+
+"And all that time you've been a good woman?"
+
+"Yes, I think I've been that."
+
+"Then if--"
+
+"I don't want no ifs. If I am not good enough for you, you can go
+elsewhere and get better; I've had enough of reproaches."
+
+"I did not mean to reproach you; I know that a woman's path is more
+difficult to walk in than ours. It may not be a woman's fault if she
+falls, but it is always a man's. He can always fly from temptation."
+
+"Yet there isn't a man that can say he hasn't gone wrong."
+
+"No, not all, Esther."
+
+Esther looked him full in the face.
+
+"I understand what you mean, Esther, but I can honestly say that I never
+have."
+
+Esther did not like him any better for his purity, and was irritated by
+the clear tones of his icy voice.
+
+"But that is no reason why I should be hard on those who have not been so
+fortunate. I didn't mean to reproach you just now, Esther; I only meant to
+say that I wish you had told me this before I took you to meeting."
+
+"So you're ashamed of me, is that it? Well, you can keep your shame to
+yourself."
+
+"No, not that, Esther--"
+
+"Then you'd like to see me humiliated before the others, as if I haven't
+had enough of that already."
+
+"No, Esther, listen to me. Those who transgress the moral law may not
+kneel at the table for a time, until they have repented; but those who
+believe in the sacrifice of the Cross are acquitted, and I believe you do
+that."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"A sinner that repenteth----I will speak about this at our next meeting;
+you will come with me there?"
+
+"Next Sunday I'm going to Dulwich to see the child."
+
+"Can't you go after meeting?"
+
+"No, I can't be out morning and afternoon both."
+
+"May I go with you?"
+
+"To Dulwich!"
+
+"You won't go until after meeting; I can meet you at the railway station."
+
+"If you like."
+
+As they walked home Esther told Fred the story of her betrayal. He was
+interested in the story, and was very sorry for her.
+
+"I love you, Esther; it is easy to forgive those we love."
+
+"You're very good; I never thought to find a man so good." She looked up
+in his face; her hand was on the gate, and in that moment she felt that
+she almost loved him.
+
+
+
+
+XXIV
+
+
+Mrs. Humphries, an elderly person, who looked after a bachelor's
+establishment two doors up, and generally slipped in about tea-time, soon
+began to speak of Fred as a very nice young man who would be likely to
+make a woman happy. But Esther moved about the kitchen in her taciturn
+way, hardly answering. Suddenly she told Mrs. Humphries that she had been
+to Dulwich with him, and that it was wonderful how he and Jackie had taken
+to one another.
+
+"You don't say so! Well, it is nice to find them religious folks less
+'ard-'earted than they gets the name of."
+
+Mrs. Humphries was of the opinion that henceforth Esther should give
+herself out as Jackie's aunt. "None believes them stories, but they make
+one seem more respectable like, and I am sure Mr. Parsons will appreciate
+the intention." Esther did not answer, but she thought of what Mrs.
+Humphries had said. Perhaps it would be better if Jackie were to leave off
+calling her Mummie. Auntie! But no, she could not bear it. Fred must take
+her as she was or not at all. They seemed to understand each other; he was
+earning good money, thirty shillings a week, and she was now going on for
+eight-and-twenty; if she was ever going to be married it was time to think
+about it.
+
+"I don't know how that dear soul will get on without me," she said one
+October morning as they jogged out of London by a slow train from St.
+Paul's. Fred was taking her into Kent to see his people.
+
+"How do you expect me to get on without you?"
+
+Esther laughed.
+
+"Trust you to manage somehow. There ain't much fear of a man not looking
+after his little self."
+
+"But the old folk will want to know when. What shall I tell them?"
+
+"This time next year; that'll be soon enough. Perhaps you'll get tired of
+me before then."
+
+"Say next spring, Esther."
+
+The train stopped.
+
+"There's father waiting for us in the spring-cart. Father! He don't hear
+us. He's gone a bit deaf of late years. Father!"
+
+"Ah, so here you are. Train late."
+
+"This is Esther, father."
+
+They were going to spend the day at the farm-house, and she was going to
+be introduced to Fred's sisters and to his brother. But these did not
+concern her much, her thoughts were set on Mrs. Parsons, for Fred had
+spoken a great deal about his mother. When she had been told about Jackie
+she was of course very sorry; but when she had heard the whole of Esther's
+story she had said, "We are all born into temptation, and if your Esther
+has really repented and prayed to be forgiven, we must not say no to her."
+Nevertheless Esther was not quite easy in her mind, and half regretted
+that she had consented to see Fred's people until he had made her his
+wife. But it was too late to think of such things. There was the
+farm-house. Fred had just pointed it out, and scenting his stable, the old
+grey ascended the hill at a trot, and Esther wondered what the farm-house
+would be like. All the summer they had had a fine show of flowers, Fred
+said. Now only a few Michaelmas daisies withered in the garden, and the
+Virginia creeper covered one side of the house with a crimson mantle. The
+old man said he would take the trap round to the stable, and Fred walked
+up the red-bricked pavement and lifted the latch. As they passed through
+the kitchen Fred introduced Esther to his two sisters, Mary and Lily. But
+they were busy cooking.
+
+"Mother is in the parlour," said Mary; "she is waiting for you." By the
+window, in a wide wooden arm-chair, sat a large woman about sixty, dressed
+in black. She wore on either side of her long white face two corkscrew
+curls, which gave her a somewhat ridiculous appearance. But she ceased to
+be ridiculous or grotesque when she rose from her chair to greet her son.
+Her face beamed, and she held out her hands in a beautiful gesture of
+welcome.
+
+"Oh, how do you do, dear Fred? I am that glad to see you! How good of you
+to come all this way! Come and sit down here."
+
+"Mother, this is Esther."
+
+"How do you do, Esther? It was good of you to come. I am glad to see you.
+Let me get you a chair. Take off your things, dear; come and sit down."
+
+She insisted on relieving Esther of her hat and jacket, and, having laid
+them on the sofa, she waddled across the room, drawing over two chairs.
+
+"Come and sit down; you'll tell me everything. I can't get about much now,
+but I like to have my children round me. Take this chair, Esther." Then
+turning to Fred, "Tell me, Fred, how you've been getting on. Are you still
+living at Hackney?"
+
+"Yes, mother; but when we're married we're going to have a cottage at
+Mortlake. Esther will like it better than Hackney. It is nearer the
+country."
+
+"Then you've not forgotten the country. Mortlake is on the river, I think.
+I hope you won't find it too damp."
+
+"No, mother, there are some nice cottages there. I think we shall find
+that Mortlake suits us. There are many friends there; more than fifty meet
+together every Sunday. And there's a lot of political work to be done
+there. I know that you're against politics, but men can't stand aside
+nowadays. Times change, mother."
+
+"So long as we have God in our hearts, my dear boy, all that we do is
+well. But you must want something after your journey. Fred, dear, knock at
+that door. Your sister Clara's dressing there. Tell her to make haste."
+
+"All right, mother," cried a voice from behind the partition which
+separated the rooms, and a moment after the door opened and a young woman
+about thirty entered. She was better-looking than the other sisters, and
+the fashion of her skirt, and the worldly manner with which she kissed her
+brother and gave her hand to Esther, marked her off at once from the rest
+of the family. She was forewoman in a large millinery establishment. She
+spent Saturday afternoon and Sunday at the farm, but to-day she had got
+away earlier, and with the view to impressing Esther, she explained how
+this had come about.
+
+Mrs. Parsons suggested a glass of currant wine, and Lily came in with a
+tray and glasses. Clara said she was starving. Mary said she would have to
+wait, and Lily whispered, "In about half-an-hour."
+
+After dinner the old man said that they must be getting on with their work
+in the orchard. Esther said she would be glad to help, but as she was
+about to follow the others Mrs. Parsons detained her.
+
+"You don't mind staying with me a few minutes, do you, dear? I shan't keep
+you long." She drew over a chair for Esther. "I shan't perhaps see you
+again for some time. I am getting an old woman, and the Lord may be
+pleased to take me at any moment. I wanted to tell you, dear, that I put
+my trust in you. You will make a good wife to Fred, I feel sure, and he
+will make a good father to your child, and if God blesses you with other
+children he'll treat your first no different than the others. He's told me
+so, and my Fred is a man of his word. You were led into sin, but you've
+repented. We was all born into temptation, and we must trust to the Lord
+to lead us out lest we should dash our foot against a stone."
+
+"I was to blame; I don't say I wasn't, but----"
+
+"We won't say no more about that. We're all sinners, the best of us.
+You're going to be my son's wife; you're therefore my daughter, and this
+house is your home whenever you please to come to see us. And I hope that
+that will be often. I like to have my children about me. I can't get about
+much now, so they must come to me. It is very sad not to be able to go to
+meeting. I've not been to meeting since Christmas, but I can see them
+going there from the kitchen window, and how 'appy they look coming back
+from prayer. It is easy to see that they have been with God. The
+Salvationists come this way sometimes. They stopped in the lane to sing. I
+could not hear the words, but I could see by their faces that they was
+with God... Now, I've told you all that was on my mind. I must not keep
+you; Fred is waiting."
+
+Esther kissed the old woman, and went into the orchard, where she found
+Fred on a ladder shaking the branches. He came down when he saw Esther,
+and Harry, his brother, took his place. Esther and Fred filled one basket,
+then, yielding to a mutual inclination, they wandered about the orchard,
+stopping on the little plank bridge. They hardly spoke at all, words
+seemed unnecessary; each felt happiness to be in the other's presence.
+They heard the water trickling through the weeds, and as the light waned
+the sound of the falling apples grew more distinct. Then a breeze shivered
+among the tops of the apple-trees, and the sered leaves were blown from
+the branches. The voices of the gatherers were heard crying that their
+baskets were full. They crossed the plank bridge, joking the lovers, who
+stood aside to let them pass.
+
+When they entered the house they saw the old farmer, who had slipped in
+before them, sitting by his wife holding her hand, patting it in a curious
+old-time way, and the attitude of the old couple was so pregnant with
+significance that it fixed itself on Esther's mind. It seemed to her that
+she had never seen anything so beautiful. So they had lived for forty
+years, faithful to each other, and she wondered if Fred forty years hence
+would be sitting by her side holding her hand.
+
+The old man lighted a lantern and went round to the stable to get a trap
+out. Driving through the dark country, seeing village lights shining out
+of the distant solitudes, was a thrilling adventure. A peasant came like a
+ghost out of the darkness; he stepped aside and called, "Good-night!"
+which the old farmer answered somewhat gruffly, while Fred answered in a
+ringing, cheery tone. Never had Esther spent so long and happy a day.
+Everything had combined to produce a strange exaltation of the spirit in
+her; and she listened to Fred more tenderly than she had done before.
+
+The train rattled on through suburbs beginning far away in the country;
+rattled on through suburbs that thickened at every mile; rattled on
+through a brick entanglement; rattled over iron bridges, passed over deep
+streets, over endless lines of lights.
+
+He bade her good-bye at the area gate, and she had promised him that they
+should be married in the spring. He had gone away with a light heart. And
+she had run upstairs to tell her dear mistress of the happy day which her
+kindness had allowed her to spend in the country. And Miss Rice had laid
+the book she was reading on her knees, and had listened to Esther's
+pleasures as if they had been her own.
+
+
+
+
+XXV
+
+
+But when the spring came Esther put Fred off till the autumn, pleading as
+an excuse that Miss Rice had not been very well lately, and that she did
+not like to leave her.
+
+It was one of those long and pallid evenings at the end of July, when the
+sky seems as if it could not darken. The roadway was very still in its
+dust and heat, and Esther, her print dress trailing, watched a poor horse
+striving to pull a four-wheeler through the loose heavy gravel that had
+just been laid down. So absorbed was she in her pity for the poor animal
+that she did not see the gaunt, broad-shouldered man coming towards her,
+looking very long-legged in a pair of light grey trousers and a black
+jacket a little too short for him. He walked with long, even strides, a
+small cane in one hand, the other in his trousers pocket; a heavy gold
+chain showed across his waistcoat. He wore a round hat and a red necktie.
+The side whiskers and the shaven upper lip gave him the appearance of a
+gentleman's valet. He did not notice Esther, but a sudden step taken
+sideways as she lingered, her eyes fixed on the cab-horse, brought her
+nearly into collision with him.
+
+"Do look where you are going to," he exclaimed, jumping back to avoid the
+beer-jug, which fell to the ground. "What, Esther, is it you?"
+
+"There, you have made me drop the beer."
+
+"Plenty more in the public; I'll get you another jug."
+
+"It is very kind of you. I can get what I want myself."
+
+They looked at each other, and at the end of a long silence William said:
+"Just fancy meeting you, and in this way! Well I never! I am glad to see
+you again."
+
+"Are you really! Well, so much for that--your way and mine aren't the
+same. I wish you good evening."
+
+"Stop a moment, Esther."
+
+"And my mistress waiting for her dinner. I've to go and get some more
+beer."
+
+"Shall I wait for you?"
+
+"Wait for me! I should think not, indeed."
+
+Esther ran down the area steps. Her hand paused as it was about to lift
+the jug down from the dresser, and a number of thoughts fled across her
+mind. That man would be waiting for her outside. What was she to do? How
+unfortunate! If he continued to come after her he and Fred would be sure
+to meet.
+
+"What are you waiting for, I should like to know?" she cried, as she came
+up the steps.
+
+"That's 'ardly civil, Esther, and after so many years too; one would
+think--"
+
+"I want none of your thinking; get out of my sight. Do you 'ear? I want no
+truck with you whatever. Haven't you done me enough mischief already?"
+
+"Be quiet; listen to me. I'll explain."
+
+"I don't want none of your explanation. Go away."
+
+Her whole nature was now in full revolt, and quick with passionate
+remembrance of the injustice that had been done her, she drew back from
+him, her eyes flashing. Perhaps it was some passing remembrance of the
+breakage of the first beer-jug that prevented her from striking him with
+the second. The spasm passed, and then her rage, instead of venting itself
+in violent action, assumed the form of dogged silence. He followed her up
+the street, and into the bar. She handed the jug across the counter, and
+while the barman filled it searched in her pocket for the money. She had
+brought none with her. William promptly produced sixpence. Esther answered
+him with a quick, angry glance, and addressing the barman, she said, "I'll
+pay you to-morrow; that'll do, I suppose? 41 Avondale Road."
+
+"That will be all right, but what am I to do with this sixpence?"
+
+"I know nothing about that," Esther said, picking up her skirt; "I'll pay
+you for what I have had."
+
+Holding the sixpence in his short, thick, and wet fingers, the barman
+looked at William. William smiled, and said, "Well, they do run sulky
+sometimes."
+
+He caught at the leather strap and pulled the door open for her, and as
+she passed out she became aware that William still admired her. It was
+really too bad, and she was conscious of injustice. Having destroyed her
+life, this man had passed out of sight and knowledge, but only to reappear
+when a vista leading to a new life seemed open before her.
+
+"It was that temper of yours that did it; you wouldn't speak to me for a
+fortnight. You haven't changed, I can see that," he said, watching
+Esther's face, which did not alter until he spoke of how unhappy he had
+been in his marriage. "A regular brute she was--we're no longer together,
+you know; haven't been for the last three years; could not put up with
+'er. She was that--but that's a long story." Esther did not answer him. He
+looked at her anxiously, and seeing that she would not be won over easily,
+he spoke of his money.
+
+"Look 'ere, Esther," he said, laying his hand on the area gate. "You won't
+refuse to come out with me some Sunday. I've a half a share in a
+public-house, the 'King's Head,' and have been backing winners all this
+year. I've plenty of money to treat you. I should like to make it up to
+you. Perhaps you've 'ad rather a 'ard time. What 'ave yer been doing all
+these years? I want to hear."
+
+"What 'ave I been doing? Trying to bring up your child! That's what I've
+been doing."
+
+"There's a child, then, is there?" said William, taken aback. Before he
+could recover himself Esther had slipped past him down the area into the
+house. For a moment he looked as if he were going to follow her; on second
+thoughts he thought he had better not. He lingered a moment and then
+walked slowly away in the direction of the Metropolitan Railway.
+
+"I'm sorry to 'ave kept you waiting, miss, but I met with an accident and
+had to come back for another jug."
+
+"And what was the accident you met with, Esther?"
+
+"I wasn't paying no attention, miss; I was looking at a cab that could
+hardly get through the stones they've been laying down in the Pembroke
+Road; the poor little horse was pulling that 'ard that I thought he'd drop
+down dead, and while I was looking I ran up against a passer-by, and being
+a bit taken aback I dropped the jug."
+
+"How was that? Did you know the passer-by?"
+
+Esther busied herself with the dishes on the sideboard; and, divining that
+something serious had happened to her servant, Miss Rice refrained and
+allowed the dinner to pass in silence. Half-an-hour later Esther came into
+the study with her mistress's tea. She brought over the wicker table, and
+as she set it by her mistress's knees the shadows about the bookcase and
+the light of the lamp upon the book and the pensive content on Miss Rice's
+face impelled her to think of her own troubles, the hardship, the passion,
+the despair of her life compared with this tranquil existence. Never had
+she felt more certain that misfortune was inherent in her life. She
+remembered all the trouble she had had, she wondered how she had come out
+of it all alive; and now, just as things seemed like settling, everything
+was going to be upset again. Fred was away for a fortnight's holiday--she
+was safe for eleven or twelve days. After that she did not know what might
+not happen. Her instinct told her that although he had passed over her
+fault very lightly, so long as he knew nothing of the father of her child,
+he might not care to marry her if William continued to come after her. Ah!
+if she hadn't happened to go out at that particular time she might never
+have met William. He did not live in the neighbourhood; if he did they
+would have met before. Perhaps he had just settled in the neighbourhood.
+That would be worst of all. No, no, no; it was a mere accident; if the
+cask of beer had held out a day or two longer, or if it had run out a day
+or two sooner, she might never have met William! But now she could not
+keep out of his way. He spent the whole day in the street waiting for her.
+If she went out on an errand he followed her there and back. If she'd only
+listen. She was prettier than ever. He had never cared for any one else.
+He would marry her when he got his divorce, and then the child would be
+theirs. She did not answer him, but her blood boiled at the word "theirs."
+How could Jackie become their child? Was it not she who had worked for
+him, brought him up? and she thought as little of his paternity as if he
+had fallen from heaven into her arms.
+
+One evening as she was laying the table her grief took her unawares, and
+she was obliged to dash aside the tears that had risen to her eyes. The
+action was so apparent that Miss Rice thought it would be an affectation
+to ignore it. So she said in her kind, musical, intimate manner, "Esther,
+I'm afraid you have some trouble on your mind; can I do anything for you?"
+
+"No, miss, no, it's nothing; I shall get over it presently."
+
+But the effort of speaking was too much for her, and a bitter sob caught
+her in the throat.
+
+"You had better tell me your trouble, Esther; even if I cannot help you it
+will ease your heart to tell me about it. I hope nothing is the matter
+with Jackie?"
+
+"No, miss, no; thank God, he's well enough. It's nothing to do with him;
+leastways--" Then with a violent effort she put back her tears. "Oh, it is
+silly of me," she said, "and your dinner getting cold."
+
+"I don't want to pry into your affairs, Esther, but you know that----"
+
+"Yes, miss, I know you to be kindness itself; but there's nothing to be
+done but to bear it. You asked me just now if it had anything to do with
+Jackie. Well, it is no more than that his father has come back."
+
+"But surely, Esther, that's hardly a reason for sorrow; I should have
+thought that you would have been glad."
+
+"It is only natural that you should think so, miss; them what hasn't been
+through the trouble never thinks the same as them that has. You see, miss,
+it is nearly nine years since I've seen him, and during them nine years I
+'ave been through so much. I 'ave worked and slaved, and been through all
+the 'ardship, and now, when the worst is over, he comes and wants me to
+marry him when he gets his divorce."
+
+"Then you like some one else better?"
+
+"Yes, miss, I do, and what makes it so 'ard to bear is that for the last
+two months or more I've been keeping company with Fred Parsons--that's the
+stationer's assistant; you've seen him in the shop, miss--and he and me is
+engaged to be married. He's earning good money, thirty shillings a week;
+he's as good a young man as ever stepped--religious, kind-hearted,
+everything as would make a woman 'appy in 'er 'ome. It is 'ard for a girl
+to keep up with 'er religion in some of the situations we have to put up
+with, and I'd mostly got out of the habit of chapel-going till I met him;
+it was 'e who led me back again to Christ. But for all that, understanding
+very well, not to say indulgent for the failings of others, like yourself,
+miss. He knew all about Jackie from the first, and never said nothing
+about it, but that I must have suffered cruel, which I have. He's been
+with me to see Jackie, and they both took to each other wonderful like; it
+couldn't 'ave been more so if 'e'd been 'is own father. But now all that's
+broke up, for when Fred meets William it is as likely as not as he'll
+think quite different."
+
+The evening died behind the red-brick suburb, and Miss Rice's strip of
+garden grew greener. She had finished her dinner, and she leaned back
+thinking of the story she had heard. She was one of those secluded maiden
+ladies so common in England, whose experience of life is limited to a tea
+party, and whose further knowledge of life is derived from the
+yellow-backed French novels which fill their bookcases.
+
+"How was it that you happened to meet William--I think you said his name
+was William?"
+
+"It was the day, miss, that I went to fetch the beer from the
+public-house. It was he that made me drop the jug; you remember, miss, I
+had to come back for another. I told you about it at the time. When I went
+out again with a fresh jug he was waiting for me, he followed me to the
+'Greyhound' and wanted to pay for the beer--not likely that I'd let him; I
+told them to put it on the slate, and that I'd pay for it to-morrow. I
+didn't speak to him on leaving the bar, but he followed me to the gate. He
+wanted to know what I'd been doing all the time. Then my temper got the
+better of me, and I said, 'Looking after your child.' 'My child!' says he.
+'So there's a child, is there?'"
+
+"I think you told me that he married one of the young ladies at the place
+you were then in situation?"
+
+"Young lady! No fear, she wasn't no young lady. Anyway, she was too good
+or too bad for him; for they didn't get on, and are now living separate."
+
+"Does he speak about the child? Does he ask to see him?"
+
+"Lor', yes, miss; he'd the cheek to say the other day that we'd make him
+our child--our child, indeed! and after all these years I've been working
+and he doing nothing."
+
+"Perhaps he might like to do something for him; perhaps that's what he's
+thinking of."
+
+"No, miss, I know him better than that. That's his cunning; he thinks
+he'll get me through the child."
+
+"In any case I don't see what you'll gain by refusing to speak to him; if
+you want to do something for the child, you can. You said he was
+proprietor of a public-house."
+
+"I don't want his money; please God, we'll be able to do without it to the
+end."
+
+"If I were to die to-morrow, Esther, remember that you would be in exactly
+the same position as you were when you entered my service. You remember
+what that was? You have often told me there was only eighteen-pence
+between you and the workhouse; you owed Mrs. Lewis two weeks' money for
+the support of the child. I daresay you've saved a little money since
+you've been with me, but it cannot be more than a few pounds. I don't
+think that you ought to let this chance slip through your fingers, if not
+for your own, for Jackie's sake. William, according to his own account, is
+making money. He may become a rich man; he has no children by his wife; he
+might like to leave some of his money--in any case, he'd like to leave
+something--to Jackie."
+
+"He was always given to boasting about money. I don't believe all he says
+about money or anything else."
+
+"That may be, but he may have money, and you have no right to refuse to
+allow him to provide for Jackie. Supposing later on Jackie were to
+reproach you?"
+
+"Jackie'd never do that, miss; he'd know I acted for the best."
+
+"If you again found yourself out of a situation, and saw Jackie crying for
+his dinner, you'd reproach yourself."
+
+"I don't think I should, miss."
+
+"I know you are very obstinate, Esther. When does Parsons return?"
+
+"In about a week, miss."
+
+"Without telling William anything about Parsons, you'll be able to find
+out whether it is his intention to interfere in your life. I quite agree
+with you that it is important that the two men should not meet; but it
+seems to me, by refusing to speak to William, by refusing to let him see
+Jackie, you are doing all you can to bring about the meeting that you wish
+to avoid. Is he much about here?"
+
+"Yes, miss, he seems hardly ever out of the street, and it do look so bad
+for the 'ouse. I do feel that ashamed. Since I've been with you, miss, I
+don't think you've 'ad to complain of followers."
+
+"Well, don't you see, you foolish girl, that he'll remain hanging about,
+and the moment Parsons comes back he'll hear of it. You'd better see to
+this at once."
+
+"Whatever you says, miss, always do seem right, some 'ow. What you says do
+seem that reasonable, and yet I don't know how to bring myself to go to
+'im. I told 'im that I didn't want no truck with 'im."
+
+"Yes, I think you said so. It is a delicate matter to advise anyone in,
+but I feel sure I am right when I say that you have no right to refuse to
+allow him to do something for the child. Jackie is now eight years old,
+you've not the means of giving him a proper education, and you know the
+disadvantage it has been to you not to know how to read and write."
+
+"Jackie can read beautifully--Mrs. Lewis 'as taught him."
+
+"Yes, Esther; but there's much besides reading and writing. Think over
+what I've said; you're a sensible girl; think it out when you go to bed
+to-night."
+
+Next day, seeing William in the street, she went upstairs to ask Miss
+Rice's permission to go out. "Could you spare me, miss, for an hour or
+so?" was all she said. Miss Rice, who had noticed a man loitering,
+replied, "Certainly, Esther."
+
+"You aren't afraid to be left in the house alone, miss? I shan't be far
+away."
+
+"No. I am expecting Mr. Alden. I'll let him in, and can make the tea
+myself."
+
+Esther ran up the area steps and walked quickly down the street, as if she
+were going on an errand. William crossed the road and was soon alongside
+of her.
+
+"Don't be so 'ard on a chap," he said. "Just listen to reason."
+
+"I don't want to listen to you; you can't have much to say that I care
+for."
+
+Her tone was still stubborn, but he perceived that it contained a change
+of humour.
+
+"Come for a little walk, and then, if you don't agree with what I says,
+I'll never come after you again."
+
+"You must take me for a fool if you think I'd pay attention to your
+promises."
+
+"Esther, hear me out; you're very unforgiving, but if you'd hear me
+out----"
+
+"You can speak; no one's preventing you that I can see."
+
+"I can't say it off like that; it is a long story. I know that I've
+behaved badly to you, but it wasn't as much my fault as you think; I could
+explain a good lot of it."
+
+"I don't care about your explanations. If you've only got
+explanations----"
+
+"There's that boy."
+
+"Oh, it is the boy you're thinking of?"
+
+"Yes, and you too, Esther. The mother can't be separated from the child."
+
+"Very likely; the father can, though."
+
+"If you talk that snappish I shall never get out what I've to say. I've
+treated you badly, and it is to make up for the past as far as I can--"
+
+"And how do you know that you aren't doing harm by coming after me?"
+
+"You mean you're keeping company with a chap and don't want me?"
+
+"You don't know I'm not a married woman; you don't know what kind of
+situation I'm in. You comes after me just because it pleases your fancy,
+and don't give it a thought that you mightn't get me the sack, as you got
+it me before."
+
+"There's no use nagging; just let's go where we can have a talk, and then
+if you aren't satisfied you can go your way and I can go mine. You said I
+didn't know that you wasn't married. I don't, but if you aren't, so much
+the better. If you are, you've only to say so and I'll take my hook. I've
+done quite enough harm, without coming between you and your husband."
+
+William spoke earnestly, and his words came so evidently from his heart
+that Esther was touched against her will.
+
+"No, I ain't married yet," she replied.
+
+"I'm glad of that."
+
+"I don't see what odds it can make to you whether I'm married or not. If I
+ain't married, you are."
+
+William and Esther walked on in silence, listening to the day as it hushed
+in quiet suburban murmurs. The sky was almost colourless--a faded grey,
+that passed into an insignificant blue; and upon this almost neutral tint
+the red suburb appeared in rigid outline, like a carving. At intervals the
+wind raised a cloud of dust in the roadway. Stopping before a piece of
+waste ground, William said--
+
+"Let's go in there; we'll be able to talk easier." Esther raised no
+objection. They went in and looked for a place where they could sit down.
+
+"This is just like old times," said William, moving a little closer.
+
+"If you are going to begin any of that nonsense I'll get up and go. I only
+came out with you because you said you had something particular to say
+about the child."
+
+"Well, it is only natural that I should like to see my son."
+
+"How do you know it's a son?"
+
+"I thought you said so. I should like it to be a boy--is it?"
+
+"Yes, it is a boy, and a lovely boy too; very different to his father.
+I've always told him that his father is dead."
+
+"And is he sorry?"
+
+"Not a bit. I've told him his father wasn't good to me; and he don't care
+for those who haven't been good to his mother."
+
+"I see, you've brought him up to hate me?"
+
+"He don't know nothing about you--how should 'e?"
+
+"Very likely; but there's no need to be that particular nasty. As I've
+said before, what's done can't be undone. I treated you badly, I know
+that; and I've been badly treated myself--damned badly treated. You've 'ad
+a 'ard time; so have I, if that's any comfort to ye."
+
+"I suppose it is wrong of me, but seeing you has brought up a deal of
+bitterness, more than I thought there was in me."
+
+William lay at length, his body resting on one arm. He held a long grass
+stalk between his small, discoloured teeth. The conversation had fallen.
+He looked at Esther; she sat straight up, her stiff cotton dress spread
+over the rough grass; her cloth jacket was unbuttoned. He thought her a
+nice-looking woman and he imagined her behind the bar of the "King's
+Head." His marriage had proved childless and in every way a failure; he
+now desired a wife such as he felt sure she would be, and his heart
+hankered sorely after his son. He tried to read Esther's quiet, subdued
+face. It was graver than usual, and betrayed none of the passion that
+choked in her. She must manage that the men should not meet. But how
+should she rid herself of him? She noticed that he was looking at her, and
+to lead his thoughts away from herself she asked him where he had gone
+with his wife when they left Woodview. Breaking off suddenly, he said--
+
+"Peggy knew all the time I was gone on you."
+
+"It don't matter about that. Tell me where you went--they said you went
+foreign."
+
+"We first went to Boulogne, that's in France; but nearly everyone speaks
+English there, and there was a nice billiard room handy, where all the big
+betting men came in of an evening. We went to the races. I backed three
+winners on the first day--the second I didn't do so well. Then we went on
+to Paris. The race-meetings is very 'andy--I will say that for
+Paris--half-an-hour's drive and there you are."
+
+"Did your wife like Paris?"
+
+"Yes, she liked it pretty well--it is all the place for fashion, and the
+shops is grand; but she got tired of it too, and we went to Italy."
+
+"Where's that?"
+
+"That's down south. A beast of a place--nothing but sour wine, and all the
+cookery done in oil, and nothing to do but seeing picture-galleries. I got
+that sick of it I could stand it no longer, and I said, 'I've 'ad enough
+of this. I want to go home, where I can get a glass of Burton and a cut
+from the joint, and where there's a horse worth looking at.'"
+
+"But she was very fond of you. She must have been."
+
+"She was, in her way. But she always liked talking to the singers and the
+painters that we met out there. Nothing wrong, you know. That was after we
+had been married about three years."
+
+"What was that?"
+
+"That I caught her out."
+
+"How do you know there was anything wrong? Men always think bad of women."
+
+"No, it was right enough! she had got dead sick of me, and I had got dead
+sick of her. It never did seem natural like. There was no 'omeliness in
+it, and a marriage that ain't 'omely is no marriage for me. Her friends
+weren't my friends; and as for my friends, she never left off insulting me
+about them. If I was to ask a chap in she wouldn't sit in the same room
+with him. That's what it got to at last. And I was always thinking of you,
+and your name used to come up when we was talking. One day she said, 'I
+suppose you are sorry you didn't marry a servant?' and I said, 'I suppose
+you are sorry you did?'"
+
+"That was a good one for her. Did she say she was?"
+
+"She put her arms round my neck and said she loved none but her big Bill.
+But all her flummery didn't take me in. And I says to myself, 'Keep an eye
+on her.' For there was a young fellow hanging about in a manner I didn't
+particularly like. He was too anxious to be polite to me, he talked to me
+about 'orses, and I could see he knew nothing about them. He even went so
+far as go down to Kempton with me."
+
+"And how did it all end?"
+
+"I determined to keep my eye on this young whipper-snapper, and come up
+from Ascot by an earlier train than they expected me. I let myself in and
+ran up to the drawing-room. They were there sitting side by side on the
+sofa. I could see they were very much upset. The young fellow turned red,
+and he got up, stammering, and speaking a lot of rot.
+
+"'What! you back already? How did you get on at Ascot? Had a good day?'
+
+"'Rippin'; but I'm going to have a better one now,' I said, keeping my eye
+all the while on my wife. I could see by her face that there was no doubt
+about it. Then I took him by the throat. 'I just give you two minutes to
+confess the truth; I know it, but I want to hear it from you. Now, out
+with it, or I'll strangle you.' I gave him a squeeze just to show him that
+I meant it. He turned up his eyes, and my wife cried, 'Murder!' I threw
+him back from me and got between her and the door, locked it, and put the
+key in my pocket. 'Now,' I said, 'I'll drag the truth out of you both.' He
+did look white, he shrivelled up by the chimney-piece, and she--well, she
+looked as if she could have killed me, only there was nothing to kill me
+with. I saw her look at the fire-irons. Then, in her nasty sarcastic way,
+she said, 'There's no reason, Percy, why he shouldn't know. Yes,' she
+said, 'he is my lover; you can get your divorce when you like.'
+
+"I was a bit taken aback; my idea was to squeeze it all out of the fellow
+and shame him before her. But she spoilt my little game there, and I could
+see by her eyes that she knew that she had. 'Now, Percy,' she said, 'we'd
+better go.' That put my blood up. I said, 'Go you shall, but not till I
+give you leave,' and without another word I took him by the collar and led
+him to the door; he came like a lamb, and I sent him off with as fine a
+kick as he ever got in his life. He went rolling down, and didn't stop
+till he got to the bottom. You should have seen her look at me; there was
+murder in her eyes. If she could she'd have killed me, but she couldn't
+and calmed down a bit. 'Let me go; what do you want me for? You can get a
+divorce.... I'll pay the costs.'
+
+"'I don't think I'd gratify you so much. So you'd like to marry him, would
+you, my beauty?'
+
+"'He's a gentleman, and I've had enough of you; if you want money you
+shall have it.'
+
+"I laughed at her, and so it went on for an hour or more. Then she
+suddenly calmed down. I knew something was up, only I didn't know what. I
+don't know if I told you we was in lodgings--the usual sort, drawing-room
+with folding doors, the bedroom at the back. She went into the bedroom,
+and I followed, just to make sure she couldn't get out that way. There was
+a chest of drawers before the door; I thought she couldn't move it, and
+went back into the sitting-room. But somehow she managed to move it
+without my hearing her, and before I could stop her she was down the
+stairs like lightning. I went after her, but she had too long a start of
+me, and the last I heard was the street door go bang."
+
+The conversation paused. William took the stalk he was chewing from his
+teeth, and threw it aside. Esther had picked one, and with it she beat
+impatiently among the grass.
+
+"But what has all this to do with me?" she said. "If this is all you have
+brought me out to listen to----"
+
+"That's a nice way to round on me. Wasn't it you what asked me to tell you
+the story?"
+
+"So you've deserted two women instead of one, that's about the long and
+short of it."
+
+"Well, if that's what you think I'd better be off," said William, and he
+rose to his feet and stood looking at her. She sat quite still, not daring
+to raise her eyes; her heart was throbbing violently. Would he go away and
+never come back? Should she answer him indifferently or say nothing? She
+chose the latter course. Perhaps it was the wrong one, for her dogged
+silence irritated him, and he sat down and begged of her to forgive him.
+He would wait for her. Then her heart ceased throbbing, and a cold
+numbness came over her hands.
+
+"My wife thought that I had no money, and could do what she liked with me.
+But I had been backing winners all the season, and had a couple of
+thousand in the bank. I put aside a thousand for working expenses, for I
+intended to give up backing horses and go in for bookmaking instead. I
+have been at it ever since. A few ups and downs, but I can't complain. I
+am worth to-day close on three thousand pounds."
+
+At the mention of so much money Esther raised her eyes. She looked at
+William steadfastly. Her object was to rid herself of him, so that she
+might marry another man; but at that moment a sensation of the love she
+had once felt for him sprang upon her suddenly.
+
+"I must be getting back, my mistress will be waiting for me."
+
+"You needn't be in that hurry. It is quite early. Besides, we haven't
+settled nothing yet."
+
+"You've been telling me about your wife. I don't see much what it's got to
+do with me."
+
+"I thought you was interested... that you wanted to see that I wasn't as
+much to blame as you thought."
+
+"I must be getting back," she said; "anything else you have to say to me
+you can tell me on the way home."
+
+"Well, it all amounts to this, Esther; if I get a divorce we might come
+together again. What do you think?"
+
+"I think you'd much better make it up with her. I daresay she's very sorry
+for what she's done."
+
+"That's all rot, Esther. She ain't sorry, and wouldn't live with me no
+more than I with her. We could not get on; what's the use? You'd better
+let bygones be bygones. You know what I mean--marry me."
+
+"I don't think I could do that."
+
+"You like some other chap. You like some chap, and don't want me
+interfering in your life. That's why you wants me to go back and live with
+my wife. You don't think of what I've gone through with her already."
+
+"You've not been through half of what I have. I'll be bound that you never
+wanted a dinner. I have."
+
+"Esther, think of the child."
+
+"You're a nice one to tell me to think of the child, I who worked and
+slaved for him all these years."
+
+"Then I'm to take no for an answer?"
+
+"I don't want to have nothing to do with you."
+
+"And you won't let me see the child?"
+
+A moment later Esther answered, "You can see the child, if you like."
+
+"Where is he?"
+
+"You can come with me to see him next Sunday, if you like. Now let me go
+in."
+
+"What time shall I come for you?"
+
+"About three--a little after."
+
+
+
+
+XXVI
+
+
+William was waiting for her in the area; and while pinning on her hat she
+thought of what she should say, and how she should act. Should she tell
+him that she wanted to marry Fred? Then the long black pin that was to
+hold her hat to her hair went through the straw with a little sharp sound,
+and she decided that when the time came she would know what to say.
+
+As he stepped aside to let her go up the area steps, she noticed how
+beautifully dressed he was. He wore a pair of grey trousers, and in his
+spick and span morning coat there was a bunch of carnations.
+
+They walked some half-dozen yards up the street in silence.
+
+"But why do you want to see the boy? You never thought of him all these
+years."
+
+"I'll tell you, Esther.... But it is nice to be walking out with you
+again. If you'd only let bygones be bygones we might settle down together
+yet. What do you think?"
+
+She did not answer, and he continued, "It do seem strange to be walking
+out with you again, meeting you after all these years, and I'm never in
+your neighbourhood. I just happened to have a bit of business with a
+friend who lives your way, and was coming along from his 'ouse, turning
+over in my mind what he had told me about Rising Sun for the Stewards'
+Cup, when I saw you coming along with the jug in your 'and. I said,
+'That's the prettiest girl I've seen this many a day; that's the sort of
+girl I'd like to see behind the bar of the "King's Head."' You always
+keeps your figure--you know you ain't a bit changed; and when I caught
+sight of those white teeth I said, 'Lor', why, it's Esther.'"
+
+"I thought it was about the child you was going to speak to me."
+
+"So I am, but you came first in my estimation. The moment I looked into
+your eyes I felt it had been a mistake all along, and that you was the
+only one I had cared about."
+
+"Then all about wanting to see the child was a pack of lies?"
+
+"No, they weren't lies. I wanted both mother and child--if I could get
+'em, ye know. I'm telling you the unvarnished truth, Esther. I thought of
+the child as a way of getting you back; but little by little I began to
+take an interest in him, to wonder what he was like, and with thoughts of
+the boy came different thoughts of you, Esther, who is the mother of my
+boy. Then I wanted you both back; and I've thought of nothing else ever
+since."
+
+At that moment they reached the Metropolitan Railway, and William pressed
+forward to get the tickets. A subterraneous rumbling was heard, and they
+ran down the steps as fast as they could, and seeing them so near the
+ticket-collector held the door open for them, and just as the train was
+moving from the platform William pushed Esther into a second-class
+compartment.
+
+"We're in the wrong class," she cried.
+
+"No, we ain't; get in, get in," he shouted. And with the guard crying to
+him to desist, he hopped in after her, saying, "You very nearly made me
+miss the train. What 'ud you've done if the train had taken you away and
+left me behind?"
+
+The remark was not altogether a happy one.
+
+"Then you travel second-class?" Esther said.
+
+"Yes, I always travel second-class now; Peggy never would, but second
+seems to me quite good enough. I don't care about third, unless one is
+with a lot of pals, and can keep the carriage to ourselves. That's the way
+we manage it when we go down to Newmarket or Doncaster."
+
+They were alone in the compartment. William leaned forward and took her
+hand.
+
+"Try to forgive me, Esther."
+
+She drew her hand away; he got up, and sat down beside her, and put his
+arm around her waist.
+
+"No, no. I'll have none of that. All that sort of thing is over between
+us."
+
+He looked at her inquisitively, not knowing how to act.
+
+"I know you've had a hard time, Esther. Tell me about it. What did you do
+when you left Woodview?" He unfortunately added, "Did you ever meet any
+one since that you cared for?"
+
+The question irritated her, and she said, "It don't matter to you who I
+met or what I went through."
+
+The conversation paused. William spoke about the Barfields, and Esther
+could not but listen to the tale of what had happened at Woodview during
+the last eight years.
+
+Woodview had been all her unhappiness and all her misfortune. She had gone
+there when the sap of life was flowing fastest in her, and Woodview had
+become the most precise and distinct vision she had gathered from life.
+She remembered that wholesome and ample country house, with its park and
+its down lands, and the valley farm, sheltered by the long lines of elms.
+She remembered the race-horses, their slight forms showing under the grey
+clothing, the round black eyes looking out through the eyelet holes in the
+hanging hoods, the odd little boys astride--a string of six or seven
+passing always before the kitchen windows, going through the paddock gate
+under the bunched evergreens. She remembered the rejoicings when the horse
+won at Goodwood, and the ball at the Shoreham Gardens. Woodview had meant
+too much in her life to be forgotten; its hillside and its people were
+drawn out in sharp outline on her mind. Something in William's voice
+recalled her from her reverie, and she heard him say--
+
+"The poor Gaffer, 'e never got over it; it regular broke 'im up. I forgot
+to tell you, it was Ginger who was riding. It appears that he did all he
+knew; he lost start, he tried to get shut in, but it warn't no go, luck
+was against them; the 'orse was full of running, and, of course, he
+couldn't sit down and saw his blooming 'ead off, right in th' middle of
+the course, with Sir Thomas's (that's the 'andicapper) field-glasses on
+him. He'd have been warned off the blooming 'eath, and he couldn't afford
+that, even to save his own father. The 'orse won in a canter: they clapped
+eight stun on him for the Cambridgeshire. It broke the Gaffer's 'eart. He
+had to sell off his 'orses, and he died soon after the sale. He died of
+consumption. It generally takes them off earlier; but they say it is in
+the family. Miss May----"
+
+"Oh, tell me about her," said Esther, who had been thinking all the while
+of Mrs. Barfield and of Miss Mary. "Tell me, there's nothing the matter
+with Miss Mary?"
+
+"Yes, there is: she can't live no more in England; she has to go to
+winter, I think it is, in Algeria."
+
+At that moment the train screeched along the rails, and vibrating under
+the force of the brakes, it passed out of the tunnel into Blackfriars.
+
+"We shall just be able to catch the ten minutes past four to Peckham," she
+said, and they ran up the high steps. William strode along so fast that
+Esther was obliged to cry out, "There's no use, William; train or no
+train, I can't walk at that rate."
+
+There was just time for them to get their tickets at Ludgate Hill. They
+were in a carriage by themselves, and he proposed to draw up the windows
+so that they might be able to talk more easily. He was interested in the
+ill-luck that had attended certain horses, and Esther wanted to hear about
+Mrs. Barfield.
+
+"You seem to be very fond of her; what did she do for you?"
+
+"Everything--that was after you went away. She was kind."
+
+"I'm glad to hear that," said William.
+
+"So they spends the summer at Woodview and goes to foreign parts for the
+winter?"
+
+"Yes, that's it. Most of the estate was sold; but Mrs. Barfield, the
+Saint--you remember we used to call her the Saint--well, she has her
+fortune, about five hundred a year, and they just manage to live there in
+a sort of hole-and-corner sort of way. They can't afford to keep a trap,
+and towards the end of October they go off and don't return till the
+beginning of May. Woodview ain't what it was. You remember the stables
+they were putting up when Silver Braid won the two cups? Well, they are
+just as when you last saw them--rafters and walls."
+
+"Racing don't seem to bring no luck to any one. It ain't my affair, but if
+I was you I'd give it up and get to some honest work."
+
+"Racing has been a good friend to me. I don't know where I should be
+without it to-day."
+
+"So all the servants have left Woodview? I wonder what has become of
+them."
+
+"You remember my mother, the cook? She died a couple of years ago."
+
+"Mrs. Latch! Oh, I'm so sorry."
+
+"She was an old woman. You remember John Randal, the butler? He's in a
+situation in Cumberland Place, near the Marble Arch. He sometimes comes
+round and has a glass in the 'King's Head.' Sarah Tucker--she's in a
+situation somewhere in town. I don't know what has become of Margaret
+Gale."
+
+"I met her one day in the Strand. I'd had nothing to eat all day. I was
+almost fainting, and she took me into a public-house and gave me a
+sausage."
+
+The train began to slacken speed, and William said, "This is Peckham."
+
+They handed up their tickets, and passed into the air of an irregular
+little street--low disjointed shops and houses, where the tramcars tinkled
+through a slacker tide of humanity than the Londoners were accustomed to.
+
+"This way," said Esther. "This is the way to the Rye."
+
+"Then Jackie lives at the Rye?"
+
+"Not far from the Rye. Do you know East Dulwich?"
+
+"No, I never was here before."
+
+"Mrs. Lewis (that's the woman who looks after him) lives at East Dulwich,
+but it ain't very far. I always gets out here. I suppose you don't mind a
+quarter of an hour's walk."
+
+"Not when I'm with you," William replied gallantly, and he followed her
+through the passers-by.
+
+The Rye opened up like a large park, beginning in the town and wending far
+away into a country prospect. At the Peckham end there were a dozen
+handsome trees, and under them a piece of artificial water where boys were
+sailing toy boats, and a poodle was swimming. Two old ladies in black came
+out of a garden full of hollyhocks; they walked towards a seat and sat
+down in the autumn landscape. And as William and Esther pursued their way
+the Rye seemed to grow longer and longer. It opened up into a vast expanse
+full of the last days of cricket; it was charming with slender trees and a
+Japanese pavilion quaintly placed on a little mound. An upland background
+in gradations, interspaced with villas, terraces, and gardens, and steep
+hillside, showing fields and hayricks, brought the Rye to a picturesque
+and abrupt end.
+
+"But it ain't nearly so big as Chester race-course. A regular cockpit of a
+place is the Chester course; and not every horse can get round it."
+
+Turning to the right and leaving the Rye behind them, they ascended a
+long, monotonous, and very ugly road composed of artificial little houses,
+each set in a portion of very metallic garden. These continued all the way
+to the top of a long hill, straggling into a piece of waste ground where
+there were some trees and a few rough cottages. A little boy came running
+towards them, stumbling over the cinder heaps and the tin canisters with
+which the place was strewn, and William felt that that child was his.
+
+"That child will break 'is blooming little neck if 'e don't take care," he
+remarked tentatively.
+
+She hated him to see the child, and to assert her complete ownership she
+clasped Jackie to her bosom without a word of explanation, and she
+questioned the child on matters about which William knew nothing.
+
+William stood looking tenderly on his son, waiting for Esther to introduce
+them. Mother and child were both so glad in each other that they forgot
+the fine gentleman standing by. Suddenly the boy looked towards his
+father, and she repented a little of her cruelty.
+
+"Jackie," she said, "do you know who this gentleman is who has come to see
+you?"
+
+"No, I don't."
+
+She did not care that Jackie should love his father, and yet she could not
+help feeling sorry for William.
+
+"I'm your father," said William.
+
+"No, you ain't. I ain't got no father."
+
+"How do you know, Jackie?"
+
+"Father died before I was born; mother told me."
+
+"But mother may be mistaken."
+
+"If my father hadn't died before I was born he'd 've been to see us before
+this. Come, mother, come to tea. Mrs. Lewis 'as got hot cakes, and they'll
+be burnt if we stand talking."
+
+"Yes, dear, but what the gentleman says is quite true; he is your father."
+
+Jackie made no answer, and Esther said, "I told you your father was dead,
+but I was mistaken."
+
+"Won't you come and walk with me?" said William.
+
+"No, thank you; I like to walk with mother."
+
+"He's always like that with strangers," said Esther; "it is shyness; but
+he'll come and talk to you presently, if you leave him alone."
+
+Each cottage had a rough piece of garden, the yellow crowns of sunflowers
+showed over the broken palings, and Mrs. Lewis's large face came into the
+windowpane. A moment later she was at the front door welcoming her
+visitors. The affection of her welcome was checked when she saw that
+William was with Esther, and she drew aside respectfully to let this fine
+gentleman pass. When they were in the kitchen Esther said----
+
+"This is Jackie's father."
+
+"What, never! I thought--but I'm sure we're very glad to see you." Then
+noticing the fine gold chain that hung across his waistcoat, the cut of
+his clothes, and the air of money which his whole bearing seemed to
+represent, she became a little obsequious in her welcome.
+
+"I'm sure, sir, we're very glad to see you. Won't you sit down?" and
+dusting a chair with her apron, she handed it to him. Then turning to
+Esther, she said--
+
+"Sit yourself down, dear; tea'll be ready in a moment." She was one of
+those women who, although their apron-strings are a good yard in length,
+preserve a strange agility of movement and a pleasant vivacity of speech.
+"I 'ope, sir, we've brought 'im up to your satisfaction; we've done the
+best we could. He's a dear boy. There's been a bit of jealousy between us
+on his account, but for all that we 'aven't spoilt him. I don't want to
+praise him, but he's as well behaved a boy as I knows of. Maybe a bit
+wilful, but there ain't much fault to find with him, and I ought to know,
+for it is I that 'ad the bringing up of him since he was a baby of two
+months old. Jackie, dear, why don't you go to your father?"
+
+He stood by his mother's chair, twisting his slight legs in a manner that
+was peculiar to him. His dark hair fell in thick, heavy locks over his
+small face, and from under the shadow of his locks his great luminous eyes
+glanced furtively at his father. Mrs. Lewis told him to take his finger
+out of his mouth, and thus encouraged he went towards William, still
+twisting his legs and looking curiously dejected. He did not speak for
+some time, but he allowed William to put his arm round him and draw him
+against his knees. Then fixing his eyes on the toes of his shoes he said
+somewhat abruptly, but confidentially--
+
+"Are you really my father? No humbug, you know," he added, raising his
+eyes, and for a moment looking William searchingly in the face.
+
+"I'm not humbugging, Jack. I'm your father right enough. Don't you like
+me? But I think you said you didn't want to have a father?"
+
+Jackie did not answer this question. After a moment's reflection, he said,
+"If you be father, why didn't you come to see us before?"
+
+William glanced at Esther, who, in her turn, glanced at Mrs. Lewis.
+
+"I'm afraid that's rather a long story, Jackie. I was away in foreign
+parts."
+
+Jackie looked as if he would like to hear about "foreign parts," and
+William awaited the question that seemed to tremble on the child's lips.
+But, instead, he turned suddenly to Mrs. Lewis and said--
+
+"The cakes aren't burnt, are they? I ran as fast as I could the moment I
+saw them coming."
+
+The childish abruptness of the transition made them laugh, and an
+unpleasant moment passed away. Mrs. Lewis took the plate of cakes from the
+fender and poured out their tea. The door and window were open, and the
+dying light lent a tenderness to the tea table, to the quiet solicitude of
+the mother watching her son, knowing him in all his intimate habits; to
+the eager curiosity of the father on the other side, leaning forward
+delighted at every look and word, thinking it all astonishing, wonderful.
+Jackie sat between the women. He seemed to understand that his chance of
+eating as many tea-cakes as he pleased had come, and he ate with his eyes
+fixed on the plate, considering which piece he would have when he had
+finished the piece he had in his hand. Little was said--a few remarks
+about the fine weather, and offers to put out another cup of tea. By their
+silence Mrs. Lewis began to understand that they had differences to
+settle, and that she had better leave them. She took her shawl from the
+peg, and pleaded that she had an appointment with a neighbour. But she
+wouldn't be more than half-an-hour; would they look after the house till
+her return? And William watched her, thinking of what he would say when
+she was out of hearing. "That boy of ours is a dear little fellow; you've
+been a good mother, I can see that. If I had only known."
+
+"There's no use talking no more about it; what's done is done."
+
+The cottage door was open, and in the still evening they could see their
+child swinging on the gate. The moment was tremulous with responsibility,
+and yet the words as they fell from their lips seemed accidental.
+
+At last he said--
+
+"Esther, I can get a divorce."
+
+"You'd much better go back to your wife. Once married, always married,
+that's my way of thinking."
+
+"I'm sorry to hear you say it, Esther. Do you think a man should stop with
+his wife who's been treated as I have been?"
+
+Esther avoided a direct reply. Why should he care about the child? He had
+never done anything for him. William said that if he had known there was a
+child he would have left his wife long ago. He believed that he loved the
+child just as much as she did, and didn't believe in marriage without
+children.
+
+"That would have been very wrong."
+
+"We ain't getting no for'arder by discussing them things," he said,
+interrupting her. "We can't say good-bye after this evening and never see
+one another again."
+
+"Why not? I'm nothing to you now; you've got a wife of your own; you've no
+claim upon me; you can go your way and I can keep to mine."
+
+"There's that child. I must do something for him."
+
+"Well, you can do something for him without ruining me."
+
+"Ruining you, Esther?"
+
+"Yes, ruining me. I ain't going to lose my character by keeping company
+with a married man. You've done me harm enough already, and should be
+ashamed to think of doing me any more. You can pay for the boy's schooling
+if you like, you can pay for his keep too, but you mustn't think that in
+doing so you'll get hold of me again."
+
+"Do you mean it, Esther?"
+
+"Followers ain't allowed where I am. You're a married man. I won't have
+it."
+
+"But when I get my divorce?"
+
+"When you get your divorce! I don't know how it'll be then. But here's
+Mrs. Lewis; she's a-scolding of Jackie for swinging on that 'ere gate.
+Naughty boy; he's been told twenty times not to swing on the gate."
+
+Esther complained that they had stayed too long, that he had made her
+late, and treated his questions about Jackie with indifference. He might
+write if he had anything important to say, but she could not keep company
+with a married man. William seemed very downcast. Esther, too, was
+unhappy, and she did not know why. She had succeeded as well as she had
+expected, but success had not brought that sense of satisfaction which she
+had expected it would. Her idea had been to keep William out of the way
+and hurry on her marriage with Fred. But this marriage, once so ardently
+desired, no longer gave her any pleasure. She had told Fred about the
+child. He had forgiven her. But now she remembered that men were very
+forgiving before marriage, but how did she know that he would not reproach
+her with her fault the first time they came to disagree about anything?
+Ah, it was all misfortune. She had no luck. She didn't want to marry
+anyone.
+
+That visit to Dulwich had thoroughly upset her. She ought to have kept out
+of William's way--that man seemed to have a power over her, and she hated
+him for it. What did he want to see the child for? The child was nothing
+to him. She had been a fool; now he'd be after the child; and through this
+fever of trouble there raged an acute desire to know what Jackie thought
+of his father, what Mrs. Lewis thought of William.
+
+And the desire to know what was happening became intolerable. She went to
+her mistress to ask for leave to go out. Very little of her agitation
+betrayed itself in her demeanour, but Miss Rice's sharp eyes had guessed
+that her servant's life was at a crisis. She laid her book on her knee,
+asked a few kind, discreet questions, and after dinner Esther hurried
+towards the Underground.
+
+The door of the cottage was open, and as she crossed the little garden she
+heard Mrs. Lewis say--
+
+"Now you must be a good boy, and not go out in the garden and spoil your
+new clothes." And when Esther entered Mrs. Lewis was giving the finishing
+touches to the necktie which she had just tied. "Now you'll go and sit on
+that chair, like a good boy, and wait there till your father comes."
+
+"Oh, here's mummie," cried the boy, and he darted out of Mrs. Lewis's
+hand. "Look at my new clothes, mummie; look at them!" And Esther saw her
+boy dressed in a suit of velveteen knickerbockers with brass buttons, and
+a sky-blue necktie.
+
+"His father--I mean Mr. Latch--came here on Thursday morning, and took him
+to----"
+
+"Took me up to London----"
+
+"And brought him back in those clothes."
+
+"We went to such a big shop in Oxford Street for them, and they took down
+many suits before they could get one to fit. Father is that difficult to
+please, and I thought we should go away without any clothes, and I
+couldn't walk about London with father in these old things. Aren't they
+shabby?" he added, kicking them contemptuously. It was a little grey suit
+that Esther had made for him with her own hands.
+
+"Father had me measured for another suit, but it won't be ready for a few
+days. Father took me to the Zoological Gardens, and we saw the lions and
+tigers, and there are such a lot of monkeys. There is one----But what
+makes you look so cross, mummie dear? Don't you ever go out with father in
+London? London is such a beautiful place. And then we walked through the
+park and saw a lot of boys sailing boats. Father asked me if I had a boat.
+I said you couldn't afford to buy me toys. He said that was hard lines on
+me, and on the way back to the station we stopped at a toy-shop and he
+bought me a boat. May I show you my boat?"
+
+Jackie was too much occupied with thoughts of his boat to notice the gloom
+that was gathering on his mother's face; Mrs. Lewis wished to call upon
+him to desist, but before she could make up her mind what to do, he had
+brought the toy from the table and was forcing it into his mother's hands.
+"This is a cutter-rigged boat, because it has three sails and only one
+mast. Father told me it was. He'll be here in half-an-hour; we're going to
+sail the boat in the pond on the Rye, and if it gets across all right
+he'll take me to the park where there's a big piece of water, twice, three
+times as big as the water on the Rye. Do you think, mummie, that I shall
+ever be able to get my boat across such a piece of water as the--I've
+forgotten the name. What do they call it, mummie?"
+
+"Oh, I don't know; don't bother me with your boat."
+
+"Oh, mummie, what have I done that you won't look at my boat? Aren't you
+coming with father to the Rye to see me sail it?"
+
+"I don't want to go with you. You want me no more. I can't afford to give
+you boats.... Come, don't plague me any more with your toy," she said,
+pushing it away, and then in a moment of convulsive passion she threw the
+boat across the room. It struck the opposite wall, its mast was broken,
+and the sails and cords made a tangled little heap. Jackie ran to his toy,
+he picked it up, and his face showed his grief. "I shan't be able to sail
+my boat now; it won't sail, its mast and the sails is broke. Mummie, what
+did you break my boat for?" and the child burst into tears. At that moment
+William entered.
+
+"What is the child crying for?" he asked, stopping abruptly on the
+threshold. There was a slight tone of authority in his voice which angered
+Esther still more.
+
+"What is it to you what he is crying for?" she said, turning quickly
+round. "What has the child got to do with you that you should come down
+ordering people about for? A nice sort of mean trick, and one that is just
+like you. You beg and pray of me to let you see the child, and when I do
+you come down here on the sly, and with the present of a suit of clothes
+and a toy boat you try to win his love away from his mother."
+
+"Esther, Esther, I never thought of getting his love from you. I meant no
+harm. Mrs. Lewis said that he was looking a trifle moped; we thought that
+a change would do him good, and so----"
+
+"Ah! it was Mrs. Lewis that asked you to take him up to London. It is a
+strange thing what a little money will do. Ever since you set foot in this
+cottage she has been curtseying to you, handing you chairs. I didn't much
+like it, but I didn't think that she would round on me in this way." Then
+turning suddenly on her old friend, she said, "Who told you to let him
+have the child?... Is it he or I who pays you for his keep? Answer me
+that. How much did he give you--a new dress?"
+
+"Oh, Esther, I am surprised at you: I didn't think it would come to
+accusing me of being bribed, and after all these years." Mrs. Lewis put
+her apron to her eyes, and Jackie stole over to his father.
+
+"It wasn't I who smashed the boat, it was mummie; she's in a passion. I
+don't know why she smashed it. I didn't do nothing."
+
+William took the child on his knee.
+
+"She didn't mean to smash it. There's a good boy, don't cry no more."
+
+Jackie looked at his father. "Will you buy me another? The shops aren't
+open to-day." Then getting off his father's knee he picked up the toy, and
+coming back he said, "Could we mend the boat somehow? Do you think we
+could?"
+
+"Jackie, dear, go away; leave your father alone. Go into the next room,"
+said Mrs. Lewis.
+
+"No, he can stop here; let him be," said Esther. "I want to have no more
+to say to him, he can look to his father for the future." Esther turned on
+her heel and walked straight for the door. But dropping his boat with a
+cry, the little fellow ran after her and clung to her skirt despairingly.
+"No, mummie dear, you mustn't go; never mind the boat; I love you better
+than the boat--I'll do without a boat."
+
+"Esther, Esther, this is all nonsense. Just listen."
+
+"No, I won't listen to you. But you shall listen to me. When I brought you
+here last week you asked me in the train what I had been doing all these
+years. I didn't answer you, but I will now. I've been in the workhouse."
+
+"In the workhouse!"
+
+"Yes, do that surprise you?"
+
+Then jerking out her words, throwing them at him as if they were
+half-bricks, she told him the story of the last eight years--Queen
+Charlotte's hospital, Mrs. Rivers, Mrs. Spires, the night on the
+Embankment, and the workhouse.
+
+"And when I came out of the workhouse I travelled London in search of
+sixteen pounds a year wages, which was the least I could do with, and when
+I didn't find them I sat here and ate dry bread. She'll tell you--she saw
+it all. I haven't said nothing about the shame and sneers I had to put up
+with--you would understand nothing about that,--and there was more than
+one situation I was thrown out of when they found I had a child. For they
+didn't like loose women in their houses; I had them very words said about
+me. And while I was going through all that you was living in riches with a
+lady in foreign parts; and now when she could put up with you no longer,
+and you're kicked out, you come to me and ask for your share of the child.
+Share of the child! What share is yours, I'd like to know?"
+
+"Esther!"
+
+"In your mean, underhand way you come here on the sly to see if you can't
+steal the love of the child from me."
+
+She could speak no more; her strength was giving way before the tumult of
+her passion, and the silence that had come suddenly into the room was more
+terrible than her violent words. William stood quaking, horrified, wishing
+the earth would swallow him; Mrs. Lewis watched Esther's pale face,
+fearing that she would faint; Jackie, his grey eyes open round, held his
+broken boat still in his hand. The sense of the scene had hardly caught on
+his childish brain; he was very frightened; his tears and sobs were a
+welcome intervention. Mrs. Lewis took him in her arms and tried to soothe
+him. William tried to speak; his lips moved, but no words came.
+
+Mrs. Lewis whispered, "You'll get no good out of her now, her temper's up;
+you'd better go. She don't know what she's a-saying of."
+
+"If one of us has to go," said William, taking the hint, "there can't be
+much doubt which of us." He stood at the door holding his hat, just as if
+he were going to put it on. Esther stood with her back turned to him. At
+last he said--
+
+"Good-bye, Jackie. I suppose you don't want to see me again?"
+
+For reply Jackie threw his boat away and clung to Mrs. Lewis for
+protection. William's face showed that he was pained by Jackie's refusal.
+
+"Try to get your mother to forgive me; but you are right to love her best.
+She's been a good mother to you." He put on his hat and went without
+another word. No one spoke, and every moment the silence grew more
+paralysing. Jackie examined his broken boat for a moment, and then he put
+it away, as if it had ceased to have any interest for him. There was no
+chance of going to the Rye that day; he might as well take off his velvet
+suit; besides, his mother liked him better in his old clothes. When he
+returned his mother was sorry for having broken his boat, and appreciated
+the cruelty. "You shall have another boat, my darling," she said, leaning
+across the table and looking at him affectionately; "and quite as good as
+the one I broke."
+
+"Will you, mummie? One with three sails, cutter-rigged, like that?"
+
+"Yes, dear, you shall have a boat with three sails."
+
+"When will you buy me the boat, mummie--to-morrow?"
+
+"As soon as I can, Jackie."
+
+This promise appeared to satisfy him. Suddenly he looked--
+
+"Is father coming back no more?"
+
+"Do you want him back?"
+
+Jackie hesitated; his mother pressed him for an answer.
+
+"Not if you don't, mummie."
+
+"But if he was to give you another boat, one with four sails?"
+
+"They don't have four sails, not them with one mast."
+
+"If he was to give you a boat with two masts, would you take it?"
+
+"I should try not to, I should try ever so hard."
+
+There were tears in Jackie's voice, and then, as if doubtful of his power
+to resist temptation, he buried his face in his mother's bosom and sobbed
+bitterly.
+
+"You shall have another boat, my darling."
+
+"I don't want no boat at all! I love you better than a boat, mummie,
+indeed I do."
+
+"And what about those clothes? You'd sooner stop with me and wear those
+shabby clothes than go to him and wear a pretty velvet suit?"
+
+"You can send back the velvet suit."
+
+"Can I? My darling, mummie will give you another velvet suit," and she
+embraced the child with all her strength, and covered him with kisses.
+
+"But why can't I wear that velvet suit, and why can't father come back?
+Why don't you like father? You shouldn't be cross with father because he
+gave me the boat. He didn't mean no harm."
+
+"I think you like your father. You like him better than me."
+
+"Not better than you, mummie."
+
+"You wouldn't like to have any other father except your own real father?"
+
+"How could I have a father that wasn't my own real father?"
+
+Esther did not press the point, and soon after Jackie began to talk about
+the possibility of mending his boat; and feeling that something
+irrevocable had happened, Esther put on her hat and jacket, and Mrs. Lewis
+and Jackie accompanied her to the station. The women kissed each other on
+the platform and were reconciled, but there was a vague sensation of
+sadness in the leave-taking which they did not understand. And Esther sat
+alone in a third-class carriage absorbed in consideration of the problem
+of her life. The life she had dreamed would never be hers--somehow she
+seemed to know that she would never be Fred's wife. Everything seemed to
+point to the inevitableness of this end.
+
+She had determined to see William no more, but he wrote asking how she
+would like him to contribute towards the maintenance of the child, and
+this could not be settled without personal interviews. Miss Rice and Mrs.
+Lewis seemed to take it for granted that she would marry William when he
+obtained his divorce. He was applying himself to the solution of this
+difficulty, and professed himself to be perfectly satisfied with the
+course that events were taking. And whenever she saw Jackie he inquired
+after his father; he hoped, too, that she had forgiven poor father, who
+had never meant no harm at all. Day by day she saw more clearly that her
+instinct was right in warning her not to let the child see William, that
+she had done wrong in allowing her feelings to be overruled by Miss Rice,
+who had, of course, advised her for the best. But it was clear to her now
+that Jackie never would take kindly to Fred as a stepfather; that he would
+never forgive her if she divided him from his real father by marrying
+another man. He would grow to dislike his stepfather more and more; and
+when he grew older he would keep away from the house on account of the
+presence of his stepfather; it would end by his going to live with him. He
+would be led into a life of betting and drinking; she would lose her child
+if she married Fred.
+
+
+
+
+XXVII
+
+
+It was one evening as she was putting things away in the kitchen before
+going up to bed that she heard some one rap at the window. Could this be
+Fred? Her heart was beating; she must let him in. The area was in
+darkness; she could see no one.
+
+"Who is there?" she cried.
+
+"It's only me. I had to see you to-night on----"
+
+She drew an easier breath, and asked him to come in.
+
+William had expected a rougher reception. The tone in which Esther invited
+him in was almost genial, and there was no need of so many excuses; but he
+had come prepared with excuses, and a few ran off his tongue before he was
+aware.
+
+"Well," said Esther, "it is rather late. I was just going up to bed; but
+you can tell me what you've come about, if it won't take long."
+
+"It won't take long.... I've seen my solicitor this afternoon, and he says
+that I shall find it very difficult to get a divorce."
+
+"So you can't get your divorce?"
+
+"Are you glad?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"What do you mean? You must be either glad or sorry."
+
+"I said what I mean. I am not given to telling lies." Esther set the large
+tin candlestick, on which a wick was spluttering, on the kitchen table,
+and William looked at her inquiringly. She was always a bit of a mystery
+to him. And then he told her, speaking very quickly, how he had neglected
+to secure proofs of his wife's infidelity at the time; and as she had
+lived a circumspect although a guilty life ever since, the solicitor
+thought that it would be difficult to establish a case against her.
+
+"Perhaps she never was guilty," said Esther, unable to resist the
+temptation to irritate.
+
+"Not guilty! what do you mean? Haven't I told you how I found them the day
+I came up from Ascot?... And didn't she own up to it? What more proof do
+you want?"
+
+"Anyway, it appears you haven't enough; what are you going to do? Wait
+until you catch her out?"
+
+"There is nothing else to do, unless----" William paused, and his eyes
+wandered from Esther's.
+
+"Unless what?"
+
+"Well, you see my solicitors have been in communication with her
+solicitors, and her solicitors say that if it were the other way round,
+that if I gave her reason to go against me for a divorce, she would be
+glad of the chance. That's all they said at first, but since then I've
+seen my wife, and she says that if I'll give her cause to get a divorce
+she'll not only go for it, but will pay all the legal expenses; it won't
+cost us a penny. What do you think Esther?"
+
+"I don't know that I understand. You don't mean----"
+
+"You see, Esther, that to get a divorce--there's no one who can hear us,
+is there?"
+
+"No, there's no one in the 'ouse except me and the missus, and she's in
+the study reading. Go on."
+
+"It seems that one of the parties must go and live with another party
+before either can get a divorce. Do you understand?"
+
+"You don't mean that you want me to go and live with you, and perhaps get
+left a second time?"
+
+"That's all rot, Esther, and you knows it."
+
+"If that's all you've got to say to me you'd better take your hook."
+
+"Do you see, there's the child to consider? And you know well enough,
+Esther, that you've nothing to fear; you knows as well as can be that I
+mean to run straight this time. So I did before. But let bygones be
+bygones, and I know you'd like the child to have a father; so if only for
+his sake----"
+
+"For his sake! I like that; as if I hadn't done enough for him. Haven't I
+worked and slaved myself to death and gone about in rags? That's what that
+child has cost me. Tell me what he's cost you. Not a penny piece--a toy
+boat and a suit of velveteen knickerbockers,--and yet you come telling
+me--I'd like to know what's expected of me. Is a woman never to think of
+herself? Do I count for nothing? For the child's sake, indeed! Now, if it
+was anyone else but you. Just tell me where do I come in? That's what I
+want to know. I've played the game long enough. Where do I come in? That's
+what I want to know."
+
+"There's no use flying in a passion, Esther. I know you've had a hard
+time. I know it was all very unlucky from the very first. But there's no
+use saying that you might get left a second time, for you know well enough
+that that ain't true. Say you won't do it; you're a free woman, you can
+act as you please. It would be unjust to ask you to give up anything more
+for the child; I agree with you in all that. But don't fly in a rage with
+me because I came to tell you there was no other way out of the
+difficulty."
+
+"You can go and live with another woman, and get a divorce that way."
+
+"Yes, I can do that; but I first thought I'd speak to you on the subject.
+For if I did go and live with another woman I couldn't very well desert
+her after getting a divorce."
+
+"You deserted me."
+
+"Why go back on that old story?"
+
+"It ain't an old story, it's the story of my life, and I haven't come to
+the end of it yet."
+
+"But you'll have got to the end of it if you'll do what I say."
+
+A moment later Esther said--
+
+"I don't know what you want to get a divorce for at all. I daresay your
+wife would take you back if you were to ask her."
+
+"She's no children, and never will have none, and marriage is a poor
+look-out without children--all the worry and anxiety for nothing. What do
+we marry for but children? There's no other happiness. I've tried
+everything else--"
+
+"But I haven't."
+
+"I know all that. I know you've had a damned hard time, Esther. I've had a
+good week at Doncaster, and have enough money to buy my partner out; we
+shall 'ave the 'ouse to ourselves, and, working together, I don't think
+we'll 'ave much difficulty in building it up into a very nice property,
+all of which will in time go to the boy. I'm doing pretty well, I told
+you, in the betting line, but if you like I'll give it up. I'll never lay
+or take the odds again. I can't say more, Esther, can I? Come, say yes,"
+he said, reaching his arm towards her.
+
+"Don't touch me," she said surlily, and drew back a step with air of
+resolution that made him doubt if he would be able to persuade her.
+
+"Now, Esther----" William did not finish. It seemed useless to argue with
+her, and he looked at the great red ash of the tallow candle.
+
+"You are the mother of my boy, so it is different; but to advise me to go
+and live with another woman! I shouldn't have thought it of a religious
+girl like you."
+
+"Religion! There's very little time for religion in the places I've had to
+work in." Then, thinking of Fred, she added that she had returned to
+Christ, and hoped He would forgive her. William encouraged her to speak of
+herself, remarking that, chapel or no chapel, she seemed just as severe
+and particular as ever. "If you won't, I can only say I am sorry; but that
+shan't prevent me from paying you as much a week as you think necessary
+for Jack's keep and his schooling. I don't want the boy to cost you
+anything. I'd like to do a great deal more for the boy, but I can't do
+more unless you make him my child."
+
+"And I can only do that by going away to live with you?" The words brought
+an instinctive look of desire into her eyes.
+
+"In six months we shall be man and wife.... Say yes."
+
+"I can't... I can't, don't ask me."
+
+"You're afraid to trust me, is that it?"
+
+Esther did not answer.
+
+"I can make that all right: I'll settle L500 on you and the child."
+
+She looked up; the same look was in her eyes, only modified, softened by
+some feeling of tenderness which had come into her heart.
+
+He put his arm round her; she was leaning against the table; he was
+sitting on the edge.
+
+"You know that I mean to act rightly by you."
+
+"Yes, I think you do."
+
+"Then say yes."
+
+"I can't--it is too late."
+
+"There's another chap?"
+
+She nodded.
+
+"I thought as much. Do you care for him?"
+
+She did not answer.
+
+He drew her closer to him; she did not resist; he could see that she was
+weeping. He kissed her on her neck first, and then on her face; and he
+continued to ask her if she loved the other chap. At last she signified
+that she did not.
+
+"Then say yes." She murmured that she could not. "You can, you can, you
+can." He kissed her, all the while reiterating, "You can, you can, you
+can," until it became a sort of parrot cry. Several minutes elapsed, and
+the candle began to splutter in its socket. She said--
+
+"Let me go; let me light the gas."
+
+As she sought for the matches she caught sight of the clock.
+
+"I did not know it was so late."
+
+"Say yes before I go."
+
+"I can't."
+
+And it was impossible to extort a promise from her. "I'm too tired," she
+said, "let me go."
+
+He took her in his arms and kissed her, and said, "My own little wife."
+
+As he went up the area steps she remembered that he had used the same
+words before. She tried to think of Fred, but William's great square
+shoulders had come between her and this meagre little man. She sighed, and
+felt once again that her will was overborne by a force which she could not
+control or understand.
+
+
+
+
+XXVIII
+
+
+She went round the house bolting and locking the doors, seeing that
+everything was made fast for the night. At the foot of the stairs painful
+thoughts came upon her, and she drew her hand across her eyes; for she was
+whelmed with a sense of sorrow, of purely mental misery, which she could
+not understand, and which she had not strength to grapple with. She was,
+however, conscious of the fact that life was proving too strong for her,
+that she could make nothing of it, and she thought that she did not care
+much what happened. She had fought with adverse fate, and had conquered in
+a way; she had won countless victories over herself, and now found herself
+without the necessary strength for the last battle; she had not even
+strength for blame, and merely wondered why she had let William kiss her.
+She remembered how she had hated him, and now she hated him no longer. She
+ought not to have spoken to him; above all, she ought not to have taken
+him to see the child. But how could she help it?
+
+She slept on the same landing as Miss Rice, and was moved by a sudden
+impulse to go in and tell her the story of her trouble. But what good? No
+one could help her. She liked Fred; they seemed to suit each other, and
+she could have made him a good wife if she had not met William. She
+thought of the cottage at Mortlake, and their lives in it; and she sought
+to stimulate her liking for him with thoughts of the meeting-house; she
+thought even of the simple black dress she would wear, and that life
+seemed so natural to her that she did not understand why she hesitated....
+If she were to marry William she would go to the "King's Head."
+
+She would stand behind the bar; she would serve the customers. She had
+never seen much life, and felt somehow that she would like to see a little
+life; there would not be much life in the cottage at Mortlake; nothing but
+the prayer-meeting. She stopped thinking, surprised at her thoughts. She
+had never thought like that before; it seemed as if some other woman whom
+she hardly knew was thinking for her. She seemed like one standing at
+cross-roads, unable to decide which road she would take. If she took the
+road leading to the cottage and the prayer-meeting her life would
+henceforth be secure. She could see her life from end to end, even to the
+time when Fred would come and sit by her, and hold her hand as she had
+seen his father and mother sitting side by side. If she took the road to
+the public-house and the race-course she did not know what might not
+happen. But William had promised to settle L500 on her and Jackie. Her
+life would be secure either way.
+
+She must marry Fred; she had promised to marry him; she wished to be a
+good woman; he would give her the life she was most fitted for, the life
+she had always desired; the life of her father and mother, the life of her
+childhood. She would marry Fred, only--something at that moment seemed to
+take her by the throat. William had come between her and that life. If she
+had not met him at Woodview long ago; if she had not met him in the
+Pembroke Road that night she went to fetch the beer for her mistress's
+dinner, how different everything would have been! ...If she had met him
+only a few months later, when she was Fred's wife!
+
+Wishing she might go to sleep, and awake the wife of one or the other, she
+fell asleep to dream of a husband possessed of the qualities of both, and
+a life that was neither all chapel nor all public-house. But soon the one
+became two, and Esther awoke in terror, believing she had married them
+both.
+
+
+
+
+XXIX
+
+
+If Fred had said, "Come away with me," Esther would have obeyed the
+elemental romanticism which is so fixed a principle in woman's nature. But
+when she called at the shop he only spoke of his holiday, of the long
+walks he had taken, and the religious and political meetings he had
+attended. Esther listened vaguely; and there was in her mind unconscious
+regret that he was not a little different. Little irrelevant thoughts came
+upon her. She would like him better if he wore coloured neckties and a
+short jacket; she wished half of him away--his dowdiness, his
+sandy-coloured hair, the vague eyes, the black neckties, the long loose
+frock-coat. But his voice was keen and ringing, and when listening her
+heart always went out to him, and she felt that she might fearlessly
+entrust her life to him. But he did not seem wholly to understand her, and
+day by day, against her will, the thought gripped her more and more
+closely that she could not separate Jackie from his father. She would have
+to tell Fred the whole truth, and he would not understand it; that she
+knew. But it would have to be done, and she sent round to say she'd like
+to see him when he left business. Would he step round about eight o'clock?
+
+The clock had hardly struck eight when she heard a tap at the window. She
+opened the door and he came in, surprised by the silence with which she
+received him.
+
+"I hope nothing has happened. Is anything the matter?"
+
+"Yes, a great deal's the matter. I'm afraid we shall never be married,
+Fred, that's what's the matter."
+
+"How's that, Esther? What can prevent us getting married?" She did not
+answer, and then he said, "You've not ceased to care for me?"
+
+"No, that's not it."
+
+"Jackie's father has come back?"
+
+"You've hit it, that's what happened."
+
+"I'm sorry that man has come across you again. I thought you told me he
+was married. But, Esther, don't keep me in suspense; what has he done?"
+
+"Sit down; don't stand staring at me in that way, and I'll tell you the
+story."
+
+Then in a strained voice, in which there was genuine suffering, Esther
+told her story, laying special stress on the fact that she had done her
+best to prevent him from seeing the child.
+
+"I don't see how you could have forbidden him access to the child."
+
+He often used words that Esther did not understand, but guessing his
+meaning, she answered--
+
+"That's just what the missus said; she argued me into taking him to see
+the child. I knew once he'd seen Jackie there'd be no getting rid of him.
+I shall never get rid of him again."
+
+"He has no claim upon you. It is just like him, low blackguard fellow that
+he is, to come after you, persecuting you. But don't you fear; you leave
+him to me. I'll find a way of stopping his little game."
+
+Esther looked at his frail figure.
+
+"You can do nothing; no one can do nothing," she said, and the tears
+trembled in her handsome eyes. "He wants me to go away and live with him,
+so that his wife may be able to divorce him."
+
+"Wants you to go away and live with him! But surely, Esther, you do
+not----"
+
+"Yes, he wants me to go and live with him, so that his wife can get a
+divorce," Esther answered, for the suspense irritated her; "and how can I
+refuse to go with him?"
+
+"Esther, are you serious? You cannot... You told me that you did not love
+him, and after all----" He waited for Esther to speak.
+
+"Yes," she said very quickly, "there is no way out of it that I can see."
+
+"Esther, that man has tempted you, and you have not prayed."
+
+She did not answer.
+
+"I don't want to hear more of this," he said, catching up his hat. "I
+shouldn't have believed it if I had not heard it from your lips; no, not
+if the whole world had told me. You are in love with this man, though you
+may not know it, and you've invented this story as a pretext to throw me
+over. Good-bye, Esther."
+
+"Fred, dear, listen, hear me out. You'll not go away in that hasty way.
+You're the only friend I have. Let me explain."
+
+"Explain! how can such things be explained?"
+
+"That's what I thought until all this happened to me. I have suffered
+dreadful in the last few days. I've wept bitter tears, and I thought of
+all you said about the 'ome you was going to give me." Her sincerity was
+unmistakable, and Fred doubted her no longer. "I'm very fond of you, Fred,
+and if things had been different I think I might have made you a good
+wife. But it wasn't to be."
+
+"Esther, I don't understand. You need never see this man again if you
+don't wish it."
+
+"Nay, nay, things ain't so easily changed as all that. He's the father of
+my child, he's got money, and he'll leave his money to his child if he's
+made Jackie's father in the eyes of the law."
+
+"That can be done without your going to live with him."
+
+"Not as he wants. I know what he wants; he wants a 'ome, and he won't be
+put off with less."
+
+"How men can be so wicked as----"
+
+"No, you do him wrong. He ain't no more wicked than another; he's just one
+of the ordinary sort--not much better or worse. If he'd been a real bad
+lot it would have been better for us, for then he'd never have come
+between us. You're beginning to understand, Fred, ain't you? If I don't go
+with him my boy'll lose everything. He wants a 'ome--a real 'ome with
+children, and if he can't get me he'll go after another woman."
+
+"And are you jealous?"
+
+"No, Fred. But think if we was to marry. As like as not I should have
+children, and they'd be more in your sight than my boy."
+
+"Esther, I promise that----"
+
+"Just so, Fred; even if you loved him like your own, you can't make sure
+that he'd love you."
+
+"Jackie and I----"
+
+"Ah, yes; he'd have liked you well enough if he'd never seen his father.
+But he's that keen on his father, and it would be worse later on. He'd
+never be contented in our 'ome. He'd be always after him, and then I
+should never see him, and he would be led away into betting and drink."
+
+"If his father is that sort of man, the best chance for Jackie would be to
+keep him out of his way. If he gets divorced and marries another woman he
+will forget all about Jackie."
+
+"Yes, that might be," said Esther, and Fred pursued his advantage. But,
+interrupting him, Esther said--
+
+"Anyway, Jackie would lose all his father's money; the public-house
+would--"
+
+"So you're going to live in a public-house, Esther?"
+
+"A woman must be with her husband."
+
+"But he's not your husband; he's another woman's husband."
+
+"He's to marry me when he gets his divorce."
+
+"He may desert you and leave you with another child."
+
+"You can't say nothing I ain't thought of already. I must put up with the
+risk. I suppose it is a part of the punishment for the first sin. We can't
+do wrong without being punished--at least women can't. But I thought I'd
+been punished enough."
+
+"The second sin is worse than the first. A married man, Esther--you who I
+thought so religious."
+
+"Ah, religion is easy enough at times, but there is other times when it
+don't seem to fit in with one's duty. I may be wrong, but it seems natural
+like--he's the father of my child."
+
+"I'm afraid your mind is made up, Esther. Think twice before it's too
+late."
+
+"Fred, I can't help myself--can't you see that? Don't make it harder for
+me by talking like that."
+
+"When are you going to him?"
+
+"To-night; he's waiting for me."
+
+"Then good-bye, Esther, good--"
+
+"But you'll come and see us."
+
+"I hope you'll be happy, Esther, but I don't think we shall see much more
+of each other. You know that I do not frequent public-houses."
+
+"Yes, I know; but you might come and see me in the morning when we're
+doing no business."
+
+Fred smiled sadly.
+
+"Then you won't come?" she said.
+
+"Good-bye, Esther."
+
+They shook hands, and he went out hurriedly. She dashed a tear from her
+eyes, and went upstairs to her mistress, who had rung for her.
+
+Miss Rice was in her easy-chair, reading. A long, slanting ray entered the
+room; the bead curtain glittered, and so peaceful was the impression that
+Esther could not but perceive the contrast between her own troublous life
+and the contented privacy of this slender little spinster's.
+
+"Well, miss," she said, "it's all over. I've told him."
+
+"Have you, Esther?" said Miss Rice. Her white, delicate hands fell over
+the closed volume. She wore two little colourless rings and a ruby ring
+which caught the light.
+
+"Yes, miss, I've told him all. He seemed a good deal cut up. I couldn't
+help crying myself, for I could have made him a good wife--I'm sure I
+could; but it wasn't to be."
+
+"You've told him you were going off to live with William?"
+
+"Yes, miss; there's nothing like telling the whole truth while you're
+about it. I told him I was going off to-night."
+
+"He's a very religious young man?"
+
+"Yes, miss; he spoke to me about religion, but I told him I didn't want
+Jackie to be a fatherless boy, and to lose any money he might have a right
+to. It don't look right to go and live with a married man; but you knows,
+miss, how I'm situated, and you knows that I'm only doing it because it
+seems for the best."
+
+"What did he say to that?"
+
+"Nothing much, miss, except that I might get left a second time--and, he
+wasn't slow to add, with another child."
+
+"Have you thought of that danger, Esther?"
+
+"Yes, miss, I've thought of everything; but thinking don't change nothing.
+Things remain just the same, and you've to chance it in the end--leastways
+a woman has. Not on the likes of you, miss, but the likes of us."
+
+"Yes," said Miss Rice reflectively, "it is always the woman who is
+sacrificed." And her thought went back for a moment to the novel she was
+writing. It seemed to her pale and conventional compared with this rough
+page torn out of life. She wondered if she could treat the subject. She
+passed in review the names of some writers who could do justice to it, and
+then her eyes went from her bookcase to Esther.
+
+"So you're going to live in a public-house, Esther? You're going to-night?
+I've paid you everything I owe you?"
+
+"Yes, miss, you have; you've been very kind to me, indeed you have,
+miss--I shall never forget you, miss. I've been very happy in your
+service, and should like nothing better than to remain on with you."
+
+"All I can say, Esther, is that you have been a very good servant, and I'm
+very sorry to part with you. And I hope you'll remember if things do not
+turn out as well as you expect them to, that I shall always be glad to do
+anything in my power to help you. You'll always find a friend in me. When
+are you going?"
+
+"As soon as my box is packed, miss, and I shall have about finished by the
+time the new servant comes in. She's expected at nine; there she is,
+miss--that's the area bell. Good-bye, miss."
+
+Miss Rice involuntarily held out her hand. Esther took it, and thus
+encouraged she said--
+
+"There never was anyone that clear-headed and warm-hearted as yerself,
+miss. I may have a lot of trouble, miss.... If I wasn't yer servant I'd
+like to kiss you."
+
+Miss Rice did not answer, and before she was aware, Esther had taken her
+in her arms and kissed her. "You're not angry with me, miss; I couldn't
+help myself."
+
+"No, Esther, I'm not angry."
+
+"I must go now and let her in."
+
+Miss Rice walked towards her writing-table, and a sense of the solitude of
+her life coming upon her suddenly caused her to burst into tears. It was
+one of those moments of effusion which take women unawares. But her new
+servant was coming upstairs and she had to dry her eyes.
+
+Soon after she heard the cabman's feet on the staircase as he went up for
+Esther's box. They brought it down together, and Miss Rice heard her beg
+of him to be careful of the paint. The girl had been a good and faithful
+servant to her; she was sorry to lose her. And Esther was equally sorry
+that anyone but herself should have the looking after of that dear, kind
+soul. But what could she do? She was going to be married. She did not
+doubt that William was going to marry her; and the cab had hardly entered
+the Brompton Road when her thoughts were fully centred in the life that
+awaited her. This sudden change of feeling surprised her, and she excused
+herself with the recollection that she had striven hard for Fred, but as
+she had failed to get him, it was only right that she should think of her
+husband. Then quite involuntarily the thought sprang upon her that he was
+a fine fellow, and she remembered the line of his stalwart figure as he
+walked down the street. There would be a parlour behind the bar, in which
+she would sit. She would be mistress of the house. There would be a
+servant, a potboy, and perhaps a barmaid.
+
+The cab swerved round the Circus, and she wondered if she were capable of
+conducting a business like the "King's Head."
+
+It was the end of a fine September evening, and the black, crooked
+perspectives of Soho seemed as if they were roofed with gold. A slight
+mist was rising, and at the end of every street the figures appeared and
+disappeared mysteriously in blue shadow. She had never been in this part
+of London before; the adventure stimulated her imagination, and she
+wondered where she was going and which of the many public-houses was hers.
+But the cabman jingled past every one. It seemed as if he were never going
+to pull up. At last he stopped at the corner of Dean Street and Old
+Compton Street, nearly opposite a cab rank. The cabmen were inside, having
+a glass; the usual vagrant was outside, looking after the horses. He
+offered to take down Esther's box, and when she asked him if he had seen
+Mr. Latch he took her round to the private bar. The door was pushed open,
+and Esther saw William leaning over the counter wrapped in conversation
+with a small, thin man. They were both smoking, their glasses were filled,
+and the sporting paper was spread out before them.
+
+"Oh, so here you are at last," said William, coming towards her. "I
+expected you an hour ago."
+
+"The new servant was late, and I couldn't leave before she came."
+
+"Never mind; glad you've come."
+
+Esther felt that the little man was staring hard at her. He was John
+Randal, or Mr. Leopold, as they used to call him at Barfield.
+
+Mr. Leopold shook hands with Esther, and he muttered a "Glad to see you
+again," But it was the welcome of a man who regards a woman's presence as
+an intrusion, and Esther understood the quiet contempt with which he
+looked at William. "Can't keep away from them," his face said for one
+brief moment. William asked Esther what she'd take to drink, and Mr.
+Leopold looked at his watch and said he must be getting home.
+
+"Try to come round to-morrow night if you've an hour to spare."
+
+"Then you don't think you'll go to Newmarket?"
+
+"No, I don't think I shall do much in the betting way this year. But come
+round to-morrow night if you can; you'll find me here. I must be here
+to-morrow night," he said, turning to Esther; "I'll tell you presently."
+Then the men had a few more words, and William bade John good-night.
+Coming back to Esther, he said--
+
+"What do you think of the place? Cosy, ain't it?" But before she had time
+to reply he said, "You've brought me good luck. I won two 'undred and
+fifty pounds to-day, and the money will come in very 'andy, for Jim
+Stevens, that's my partner, has agreed to take half the money on account
+and a bill of sale for the rest. There he is; I'll introduce you to him.
+Jim, come this way, will you?"
+
+"In a moment, when I've finished drawing this 'ere glass of beer,"
+answered a thick-set, short-limbed man. He was in his shirt-sleeves, and
+he crossed the bar wiping the beer from his hands.
+
+"Let me introduce you to a very particular friend of mine, Jim, Miss
+Waters."
+
+"Very 'appy, I'm sure, to make your acquaintance," said Jim, and he
+extended his fat hand across the counter. "You and my partner are, I 'ear,
+going to take this 'ere 'ouse off my hands. Well, you ought to make a good
+thing of it. There's always room for a 'ouse that supplies good liquor.
+What can I hoffer you, madam? Some of our whisky has been fourteen years
+in bottle; or, being a lady, perhaps you'd like to try some of our best
+unsweetened."
+
+Esther declined, but William said they could not leave without drinking
+the health of the house.
+
+"Irish or Scotch, ma'am? Mr. Latch drinks Scotch."
+
+Seeing that she could not avoid taking something, Esther decided that she
+would try the unsweetened. The glasses were clinked across the counter,
+and William whispered, "This isn't what we sell to the public; this is our
+own special tipple. You didn't notice, perhaps, but he took the bottle
+from the third row on the left."
+
+At that moment Esther's cabman came in and wanted to know if he was to
+have the box taken down. William said it had better remain where it was.
+
+"I don't think I told you I'm not living here; my partner has the upper
+part of the house, but he says he'll be ready to turn out at the end of
+the week. I'm living in lodgings near Shaftesbury Avenue, so we'd better
+keep the cab on."
+
+Esther looked disappointed, but said nothing. William said he'd stand the
+cabby a drink, and, winking at Esther, he whispered, "Third row on the
+left, partner."
+
+
+
+
+XXX
+
+
+The "King's Head" was an humble place in the old-fashioned style. The
+house must have been built two hundred years, and the bar seemed as if it
+had been dug out of the house. The floor was some inches lower than the
+street, and the ceiling was hardly more than a couple of feet above the
+head of a tall man. Nor was it divided by numerous varnished partitions,
+according to the latest fashion. There were but three. The private
+entrance was in Dean Street, where a few swells came over from the theatre
+and called for brandies-and-sodas. There was a little mahogany what-not on
+the counter, and Esther served her customers between the little shelves.
+The public entrance and the jug and bottle entrance were in a side street.
+There was no parlour for special customers at the back, and the public bar
+was inconveniently crowded by a dozen people. The "King's Head" was not an
+up-to-date public-house. It had, however, one thing in its favour--it was
+a free house, and William said they had only to go on supplying good
+stuff, and trade would be sure to come back to them. For their former
+partner had done them much harm by systematic adulteration, and a little
+way down the street a new establishment, with painted tiles and brass
+lamps, had been opened, and was attracting all the custom of the
+neighbourhood. She was more anxious than William to know what loss the
+books showed; she was jealous of the profits of his turf account, and when
+he laughed at her she said, "But you're never here in the daytime, you do
+not have these empty bars staring you in the face morning and afternoon."
+And then she would tell him: a dozen pots of beer about dinner-time, a few
+glasses of bitter--there had been a rehearsal over the way--and that was
+about all.
+
+The bars were empty, and the public-house dozed through the heavy heat of
+a summer afternoon. Esther sat behind the bar sewing, waiting for Jackie
+to come home from school. William was away at Newmarket. The clock struck
+five and Jackie peeped through the doors, dived under the counter, and ran
+into his mother's arms.
+
+"Well, did you get full marks to-day?"
+
+"Yes, mummie, I got full marks."
+
+"That's a good boy--and you want your tea?"
+
+"Yes, mummie; I'm that hungry I could hardly walk home."
+
+"Hardly walk home! What, as bad as that?"
+
+"Yes, mummie. There's a new shop open in Oxford Street. The window is all
+full of boats. Do you think that if all the favourites were to be beaten
+for a month, father would buy me one?"
+
+"I thought you was so hungry you couldn't walk home, dear?"
+
+"Well, mummie, so I was, but----"
+
+Esther laughed. "Well, come this way and have your tea." She went into the
+parlour and rang the bell.
+
+"Mummie, may I have buttered toast?"
+
+"Yes, dear, you may."
+
+"And may I go downstairs and help Jane to make it?"
+
+"Yes, you can do that too; it will save her the trouble of coming up. Let
+me take off your coat--give me your hat; now run along, and help Jane to
+make the toast."
+
+Esther opened a glass door, curtained with red silk; it led from the bar
+to the parlour, a tiny room, hardly larger than the private bar, holding
+with difficulty a small round table, three chairs, an arm-chair, a
+cupboard. In the morning a dusty window let in a melancholy twilight, but
+early in the afternoon it became necessary to light the gas. Esther took a
+cloth from the cupboard, and laid the table for Jackie's tea. He came up
+the kitchen stairs telling Jane how many marbles he had won, and at that
+moment voices were heard in the bar.
+
+It was William, tall and gaunt, buttoned up in a grey frock-coat, a pair
+of field glasses slung over his shoulders. He was with his clerk, Ted
+Blamy, a feeble, wizen little man, dressed in a shabby tweed suit, covered
+with white dust.
+
+"Put that bag down, Teddy, and come and have a drink."
+
+Esther saw at once that things had not gone well with him.
+
+"Have the favourites been winning?"
+
+"Yes, every bloody one. Five first favourites straight off the reel, three
+yesterday, and two second favourites the day before. By God, no man can
+stand up against it. Come, what'll you have to drink, Teddy?"
+
+"A little whisky, please, guv'nor."
+
+The men had their drink. Then William told Teddy to take his bag upstairs,
+and he followed Esther into the parlour. She could see that he had been
+losing heavily, but she refrained from asking questions.
+
+"Now, Jackie, you keep your father company; tell him how you got on at
+school. I'm going downstairs to look after his dinner."
+
+"Don't you mind about my dinner, Esther, don't you trouble; I was thinking
+of dining at a restaurant. I'll be back at nine."
+
+"Then I'll see nothing of you. We've hardly spoken to one another this
+week; all the day you're away racing, and in the evening you're talking to
+your friends over the bar. We never have a moment alone."
+
+"Yes, Esther, I know; but the truth is, I'm a bit down in the mouth. I've
+had a very bad week. The favourites has been winning, and I overlaid my
+book against Wheatear; I'd heard that she was as safe as 'ouses. I'll meet
+some pals down at the 'Cri'; it will cheer me up."
+
+Seeing how disappointed she was, he hesitated, and asked what there was
+for dinner. "A sole and a nice piece of steak; I'm sure you'll like it.
+I've a lot to talk to you about. Do stop, Bill, to please me." She was
+very winning in her quiet, grave way, so he took her in his arms, kissed
+her, and said he would stop, that no one could cook a sole as she could,
+that it gave him an appetite to think of it.
+
+"And may I stop with father while you are cooking his dinner?" said
+Jackie.
+
+"Yes, you can do that; but you must go to bed when I bring it upstairs. I
+want to talk with father then."
+
+Jackie seemed quite satisfied with this arrangement, but when Esther came
+upstairs with the sole, and was about to hand him over to Jane, he begged
+lustily to be allowed to remain until father had finished his fish. "It
+won't matter to you," he said; "you've to go downstairs to fry the steak."
+
+But when she came up with the steak he was unwilling as ever to leave. She
+said he must go to bed, and he knew from her tone that argument was
+useless. As a last consolation, she promised him that she would come
+upstairs and kiss him before he went to sleep.
+
+"You will come, won't you, mummie? I shan't go to sleep till you do."
+Esther and William both laughed, and Esther was pleased, for she was still
+a little jealous of his love for his father.
+
+"Come along," Jackie cried to Jane, and he ran upstairs, chattering to her
+about the toys he had seen in Oxford Street. Charles was lighting the gas,
+and Esther had to go into the bar to serve some customers. When she
+returned, William was smoking his pipe. Her dinner had had its effect, he
+had forgotten his losses, and was willing to tell her the news. He had a
+bit of news for her. He had seen Ginger; Ginger had come up as cordial as
+you like, and had asked him what price he was laying.
+
+"Did he bet with you?"
+
+"Yes, I laid him ten pounds to five."
+
+Once more William began to lament his luck. "You'll have better luck
+to-morrow," she said. "The favourites can't go on winning. Tell me about
+Ginger."
+
+"There isn't much to tell. We'd a little chat. He knew all about the
+little arrangement, the five hundred, you know, and laughed heartily.
+Peggy's married. I've forgotten the chap's name."
+
+"The one that you kicked downstairs?"
+
+"No, not him; I can't think of it. No matter, Ginger remembered you; he
+wished us luck, took the address, and said he'd come in to-night to see
+you if he possibly could. I don't think he's been doing too well lately,
+if he had he'd been more stand-offish. I saw Jimmy White--you remember
+Jim, the little fellow we used to call the Demon, 'e that won the
+Stewards' Cup on Silver Braid?... Didn't you and 'e 'ave a tussle together
+at the end of dinner--the first day you come down from town?"
+
+"The second day it was."
+
+"You're right, it was the second day. The first day I met you in the
+avenue I was leaning over the railings having a smoke, and you come along
+with a heavy bundle and asked me the way. I wasn't in service at that
+time. Good Lord, how time does slip by! It seems like yesterday.... And
+after all those years to meet you as you was going to the public for a jug
+of beer, and 'ere we are man and wife sitting side by side in our own
+'ouse."
+
+Esther had been in the "King's Head" now nearly a year. The first Mrs.
+Latch had got her divorce without much difficulty; and Esther had begun to
+realise that she had got a good husband long before they slipped round to
+the nearest registry office and came back man and wife.
+
+Charles opened the door. "Mr. Randal is in the bar, sir, and would like to
+have a word with you."
+
+"All right," said William. "Tell him I'm coming into the bar presently."
+Charles withdrew. "I'm afraid," said William, lowering his voice, "that
+the old chap is in a bad way. He's been out of a place a long while, and
+will find it 'ard to get back again. Once yer begin to age a bit, they
+won't look at you. We're both well out of business."
+
+Mr. Randal sat in his favourite corner by the wall, smoking his clay. He
+wore a large frock-coat, vague in shape, pathetically respectable. The
+round hat was greasy round the edges, brown and dusty on top. The shirt
+was clean but unstarched, and the thin throat was tied with an old black
+silk cravat. He looked himself, the old servant out of situation--the old
+servant who would never be in situation again.
+
+"Been 'aving an 'ell of a time at Newmarket," said William; "favourites
+romping in one after the other."
+
+"I saw that the favourites had been winning. But I know of something, a
+rank outsider, for the Leger. I got the letter this morning. I thought I'd
+come round and tell yer."
+
+"Much obliged, old mate, but it don't do for me to listen to such tales;
+we bookmakers must pay no attention to information, no matter how correct
+it may be.... Much obliged all the same. What are you drinking?"
+
+"I've not finished my glass yet." He tossed off the last mouthful.
+
+"The same?" said William.
+
+"Yes, thank you."
+
+William drew two glasses of porter. "Here's luck." The men nodded, drank,
+and then William turned to speak to a group at the other end of the bar.
+"One moment," John said, touching William on the shoulder. "It is the best
+tip I ever had in my life. I 'aven't forgotten what I owe you, and if this
+comes off I'll be able to pay you all back. Lay the odds, twenty
+sovereigns to one against--" Old John looked round to see that no one was
+within ear-shot, then he leant forward and whispered the horse's name in
+William's ear. William laughed. "If you're so sure about it as all that,"
+he said, "I'd sooner lend you the quid to back the horse elsewhere."
+
+"Will you lend me a quid?"
+
+"Lend you a quid and five first favourites romping in one after
+another!--you must take me for Baron Rothschild. You think because I've a
+public-house I'm coining money; well, I ain't. It's cruel the business we
+do here. You wouldn't believe it, and you know that better liquor can't be
+got in the neighbourhood." Old John listened with the indifference of a
+man whose life is absorbed in one passion and who can interest himself
+with nothing else. Esther asked him after Mrs. Randal and his children,
+but conversation on the subject was always disagreeable to him, and he
+passed it over with few words. As soon as Esther moved away he leant
+forward and whispered, "Lay me twelve pounds to ten shillings. I'll be
+sure to pay you; there's a new restaurant going to open in Oxford Street
+and I'm going to apply for the place of headwaiter."
+
+"Yes, but will you get it?" William answered brutally. He did not mean to
+be unkind, but his nature was as hard and as plain as a kitchen-table. The
+chin dropped into the unstarched collar and the old-fashioned necktie, and
+old John continued smoking unnoticed by any one. Esther looked at him. She
+saw he was down on his luck, and she remembered the tall, melancholy,
+pale-faced woman whom she had met weeping by the sea-shore the day that
+Silver Braid had won the cup. She wondered what had happened to her, in
+what corner did she live, and where was the son that John Randal had not
+allowed to enter the Barfield establishment as page-boy, thinking he would
+be able to make something better of him than a servant.
+
+The regular customers had begun to come in. Esther greeted them with nods
+and smiles of recognition. She drew the beer two glasses at once in her
+hand, and picked up little zinc measures, two and four of whisky, and
+filled them from a small tap. She usually knew the taste of her customers.
+When she made a mistake she muttered "stupid," and Mr. Ketley was much
+amused at her forgetting that he always drank out of the bottle; he was
+one of the few who came to the "King's Head" who could afford sixpenny
+whisky. "I ought to have known by this time," she said. "Well, mistakes
+will occur in the best regulated families," the little butterman replied.
+He was meagre and meek, with a sallow complexion and blond beard. His pale
+eyes were anxious, and his thin, bony hands restless. His general manner
+was oppressed, and he frequently raised his hat to wipe his forehead,
+which was high and bald. At his elbow stood Journeyman, Ketley's very
+opposite. A tall, harsh, angular man, long features, a dingy complexion,
+and the air of a dismissed soldier. He held a glass of whisky-and-water in
+a hairy hand, and bit at the corner of a brown moustache. He wore a
+threadbare black frock-coat, and carried a newspaper under his arm. Ketley
+and Journeyman held widely different views regarding the best means of
+backing horses. Ketley was preoccupied with dreams and omens; Journeyman,
+a clerk in the parish registry office, studied public form; he was guided
+by it in all his speculations, and paid little heed to the various rumours
+always afloat regarding private trials. Public form he admitted did not
+always come out right, but if a man had a headpiece and could remember all
+the running, public form was good enough to follow. Racing with Journeyman
+was a question of calculation, and great therefore was his contempt for
+the weak and smiling Ketley, whom he went for on all occasions. But Ketley
+was pluckier than his appearance indicated, and the duels between the two
+were a constant source of amusement in the bar of the "King's Head."
+
+"Well, Herbert, the omen wasn't altogether up to the mark this time," said
+Journeyman, with a malicious twinkle in his small brown eyes.
+
+"No, it was one of them unfortunate accidents."
+
+"One of them unfortunate accidents," repeated Journeyman, derisively;
+"what's accidents to do with them that 'as to do with the reading of
+omens? I thought they rose above such trifles as weights, distances, bad
+riding.... A stone or two should make no difference if the omen is right."
+
+Ketley was no way put out by the slight titter that Journeyman's retort
+had produced in the group about the bar. He drank his whisky-and-water
+deliberately, like one, to use a racing expression, who had been over the
+course before.
+
+"I've 'eard that argument. I know all about it, but it don't alter me. Too
+many strange things occur for me to think that everything can be
+calculated with a bit of lead-pencil in a greasy pocket-book."
+
+"What has the grease of my pocket-book to do with it?" replied Journeyman,
+looking round. The company smiled and nodded. "You says that signs and
+omens is above any calculation of weights. Never mind the pocket-book,
+greasy or not greasy; you says that these omens is more to be depended on
+than the best stable information."
+
+"I thought that you placed no reliance on stable information, and that you
+was guided by the weights that you calculated in that 'ere pocket-book."
+
+"What's my pocket-book to do with it? You want to see my pocket-book;
+well, here it is, and I'll bet two glasses of beer that it ain't greasier
+than any other pocket-book in this bar."
+
+"I don't see meself what pocket-books, greasy or not greasy, has to do
+with it," said William. "Walter put a fair question to Herbert. The omen
+didn't come out right, and Walter wanted to know why it didn't come out
+right."
+
+"That was it," said Journeyman.
+
+All eyes were now fixed on Ketley. "You want to know why the omen wasn't
+right? I'll tell you--because it was no omen at all, that's why. The omens
+always comes right; it is we who aren't always in the particular state of
+mind that allows us to read the omens right." Journeyman shrugged his
+shoulders contemptuously. Ketley looked at him with the same expression of
+placid amusement. "You'd like me to explain; well, I will. The omen is
+always right, but we aren't always in the state of mind for the reading of
+the omen. You think that ridiculous, Walter; but why should omens differ
+from other things? Some days we can get through our accounts in 'alf the
+time we can at other times, the mind being clearer. I asks all present if
+that is not so."
+
+Ketley had got hold of his audience, and Journeyman's remark about closing
+time only provoked a momentary titter. Ketley looked long and steadily at
+Journeyman and then said, "Perhaps closing time won't do no more for your
+calculation of weights than for my omens.... I know them jokes, we've
+'eard them afore; but I'm not making jokes; I'm talking serious." The
+company nodded approval. "I was saying there was times when the mind is
+fresh like the morning. That's the time for them what 'as got the gift of
+reading the omens. It is a sudden light that comes into the mind, and it
+points straight like a ray of sunlight, if there be nothing to stop it....
+Now do you understand?" No one had understood, but all felt that they were
+on the point of understanding. "The whole thing is in there being nothing
+to interrupt the light."
+
+"But you says yourself that yer can't always read them," said Journeyman;
+"an accident will send you off on the wrong tack, so it all comes to the
+same thing, omens or no omens."
+
+"A man will trip over a piece of wire laid across the street, but that
+don't prove he can't walk, do it, Walter?"
+
+Walter was unable to say that it did not, and so Ketley scored another
+point over his opponent. "I made a mistake, I know I did, and if it will
+help you to understand I'll tell you how it was made. Three weeks ago I
+was in this 'ere bar 'aving what I usually takes. It was a bit early; none
+of you fellows had come in. I don't think it was much after eight. The
+governor was away in the north racin'--hadn't been 'ome for three or four
+days; the missus was beginning to look a bit lonely." Ketley smiled and
+glanced at Esther, who had told Charles to serve some customers, and was
+listening as intently as the rest. "I'd 'ad a nice bit of supper, and was
+just feeling that fresh and clear 'eaded as I was explaining to you just
+now is required for the reading, thinking of nothing in perticler, when
+suddenly the light came. I remembered a conversation I 'ad with a chap
+about American corn. He wouldn't 'ear of the Government taxing corn to
+'elp the British farmer. Well, that conversation came back to me as clear
+as if the dawn had begun to break. I could positively see the bloody corn;
+I could pretty well 'ave counted it. I felt there was an omen about
+somewhere, and all of a tremble I took up the paper; it was lying on the
+bar just where your hand is, Walter. But at that moment, just as I was
+about to cast my eye down the list of 'orses, a cab comes down the street
+as 'ard as it could tear. There was but two or three of us in the bar, and
+we rushed out--the shafts was broke, 'orse galloping and kicking, and the
+cabby 'olding on as 'ard as he could. But it was no good, it was bound to
+go, and over it went against the kerb. The cabby, poor chap, was pretty
+well shook to pieces; his leg was broke, and we'd to 'elp to take him to
+the hosspital. Now I asks if it was no more than might be expected that I
+should have gone wrong about the omen. Next day, as luck would have it, I
+rolled up 'alf a pound of butter in a piece of paper on which 'Cross
+Roads' was written."
+
+"But if there had been no accident and you 'ad looked down the list of
+'orses, 'ow do yer know that yer would 'ave spotted the winner?"
+
+"What, not Wheatear, and with all that American corn in my 'ead? Is it
+likely I'd've missed it?"
+
+No one answered, and Ketley drank his whisky in the midst of a most
+thoughtful silence. At last one of the group said, and he seemed to
+express the general mind of the company--
+
+"I don't know if omens be worth a-following of, but I'm blowed if 'orses
+be worth backing if the omens is again them."
+
+His neighbour answered, "And they do come wonderful true occasional. They
+'as 'appened to me, and I daresay to all 'ere present." The company
+nodded. "You've noticed how them that knows nothing at all about
+'orses--the less they knows the better their luck--will look down the lot
+and spot the winner from pure fancy--the name that catches their eyes as
+likely."
+
+"There's something in it," said a corpulent butcher with huge, pursy,
+prominent eyes and a portentous stomach. "I always held with going to
+church, and I hold still more with going to church since I backed Vanity
+for the Chester Cup. I was a-falling asleep over the sermon, when suddenly
+I wakes up hearing, 'Vanity of vanities, and all is vanity.'"
+
+Several similar stories were told, and then various systems for backing
+horses were discussed. "You don't believe that no 'orses is pulled?" said
+Mr. Stack, the porter at Sutherland Mansions, Oxford Street, a large,
+bluff man, wearing a dark blue square-cut frock coat with brass buttons. A
+curious-looking man, with red-stained skin, dark beady eyes, a scanty
+growth of beard, and a loud, assuming voice. "You don't believe that no
+'orses is pulled?" he reiterated.
+
+"I didn't say that no 'orse was never pulled," said Journeyman. He stood
+with his back leaning against the partition, his long legs stretched out.
+"If one was really in the know, then I don't say nothing about it; but who
+of us is ever really in the know?"
+
+"I'm not so sure about that," said Mr. Stack. "There's a young man in my
+mansions that 'as a servant; this servant's cousin, a girl in the country,
+keeps company with one of the lads in the White House stable. If that
+ain't good enough, I don't know what is; good enough for my half-crown and
+another pint of beer too, Mrs. Latch, as you'll be that kind."
+
+Esther drew the beer, and Old John, who had said nothing till now,
+suddenly joined in the conversation. He too had heard of something; he
+didn't know if it was the same as Stack had heard of; he didn't expect it
+was. It couldn't very well be, 'cause no one knew of this particular
+horse, not a soul!--not 'alf-a-dozen people in the world. No, he would
+tell no one until his money and the stable money was all right. And he
+didn't care for no half-crowns or dollars this time, if he couldn't get a
+sovereign or two on the horse he'd let it alone. This time he'd be a man
+or a mouse. Every one was listening intently, but old John suddenly
+assumed an air of mystery and refused to say another word. The
+conversation worked back whither it had started, and again the best method
+of backing horses was passionately discussed. Interrupting someone whose
+theories seemed intolerably ludicrous, Journeyman said--
+
+"Let's 'ear what's the governor's opinion; he ought to know what kind of
+backer gets the most out of him."
+
+Journeyman's proposal to submit the question to the governor met with very
+general approval. Even the vagrant who had taken his tankard of porter to
+the bench where he could drink and eat what fragments of food he had
+collected, came forward, interested to know what kind of backer got most
+out of the bookmaker.
+
+"Well," said William, "I haven't been making a book as long as some of
+them, but since you ask me what I think I tell you straight. I don't care
+a damn whether they backs according to their judgment, or their dreams, or
+their fancy. The cove that follows favourites, or the cove that backs a
+jockey's mount, the cove that makes an occasional bet when he hears of a
+good thing, the cove that bets regular, 'cording to a system--the cove,
+yer know, what doubles every time--or the cove that bets as the mood takes
+him--them and all the other coves, too numerous to be mentioned, I'm glad
+to do business with. I cries out to one as 'eartily as to another: 'The
+old firm, the old firm, don't forget the old firm.... What can I do for
+you to-day, sir?' There's but one sort of cove I can't abide."
+
+"And he is--" said Journeyman.
+
+"He is Mr. George Buff."
+
+"Who's he? who's he?" asked several; and the vagrant caused some amusement
+by the question, "Do 'e bet on the course?"
+
+"Yes, he do," said William, "an' nowhere else. He's at every meeting as
+reg'lar as if he was a bookie himself. I 'ates to see his face.... I'd be
+a rich man if I'd all the money that man 'as 'ad out of me in the last
+three years."
+
+"What should you say was his system?" asked Mr. Stack.
+
+"I don't know no more than yerselves."
+
+This admission seemed a little chilling; for everyone had thought himself
+many steps nearer El Dorado.
+
+"But did you ever notice," said Mr. Ketley, "that there was certain days
+on which he bet?"
+
+"No, I never noticed that."
+
+"Are they outsiders that he backs?" asked Stack.
+
+"No, only favourites. But what I can't make out is that there are times
+when he won't touch them; and when he don't, nine times out of ten they're
+beaten."
+
+"Are the 'orses he backs what you'd call well in?" said Journeyman.
+
+"Not always."
+
+"Then it must be on information from the stable authorities?" said Stack.
+
+"I dun know," said William; "have it that way if you like, but I'm glad
+there ain't many about like him. I wish he'd take his custom elsewhere. He
+gives me the solid hump, he do."
+
+"What sort of man should you say he was? 'as he been a servant, should you
+say?" asked old John.
+
+"I can't tell you what he is. Always new suit of clothes and a hie-glass.
+Whenever I see that 'ere hie-glass and that brown beard my heart goes down
+in my boots. When he don't bet he takes no notice, walks past with a vague
+look on his face, as if he didn't see the people, and he don't care that
+for the 'orses. Knowing he don't mean no business, I cries to him, 'The
+best price, Mr. Buff; two to one on the field, ten to one bar two or
+three.' He just catches his hie-glass tighter in eye and looks at me,
+smiles, shakes his head, and goes on. He is a warm 'un; he is just about
+as 'ot as they make 'em."
+
+"What I can't make out," said Journeyman, "is why he bets on the course.
+You say he don't know nothing about horses. Why don't he remain at 'ome
+and save the exes?"
+
+"I've thought of all that," said William, "and can't make no more out of
+it than you can yerselves. All we know is that, divided up between five or
+six of us, Buff costs not far short of six 'undred a year."
+
+At that moment a small blond man came into the bar. Esther knew him at
+once. It was Ginger. He had hardly changed at all--a little sallower, a
+little dryer, a trifle less like a gentleman.
+
+"Won't you step round, sir, to the private bar?" said William. "You'll be
+more comfortable."
+
+"Hardly worth while. I was at the theatre, and I thought I'd come in and
+have a look round.... I see that you haven't forgotten the old horses," he
+said, catching sight of the prints of Silver Braid and Summer's Dean which
+William had hung on the wall. "That was a great day, wasn't it? Fifty to
+one chance, started at thirty; and you remember the Gaffer tried him to
+win with twenty pound more than he had to carry.... Hullo, John! very glad
+to see you again; growing strong and well, I hope?"
+
+The old servant looked so shabby that Esther was not surprised that Ginger
+did not shake hands with him. She wondered if he would remember her, and
+as the thought passed through her mind he extended his hand across the
+bar.
+
+"I 'ope I may have the honour of drinking a glass of wine with you, sir,"
+said William. Ginger raised no objection, and William told Esther to go
+down-stairs and fetch up a bottle of champagne.
+
+Ketley, Journeyman, Stack, and the others listened eagerly. To meet the
+celebrated gentleman-rider was a great event in their lives. But the
+conversation was confined to the Barfield horses; it was carried on by the
+merest allusion, and Journeyman wearied of it. He said he must be getting
+home; the others nodded, finished their glasses, and bade William
+good-night as they left. A couple of flower-girls with loose hair, shawls,
+and trays of flowers, suggestive of streetfaring, came in and ordered four
+ale. They spoke to the vagrant, who collected his match-boxes in
+preparation for a last search for charity. William cut the wires of the
+champagne, and at that moment Charles, who had gone through with the
+ladder to turn out the street lamp, returned with a light overcoat on his
+arm which he said a cove outside wanted to sell him for two-and-six.
+
+"Do you know him?" said William.
+
+"Yes, I knowed him. I had to put him out the other night--Bill Evans, the
+cove that wears the blue Melton."
+
+The swing doors were opened, and a man between thirty and forty came in.
+He was about the medium height; a dark olive skin, black curly hair,
+picturesque and disreputable, like a bird of prey in his blue Melton
+jacket and billycock hat.
+
+"You'd better 'ave the coat," he said; "you won't better it;" and coming
+into the bar he planked down a penny as if it were a sovereign. "Glass of
+porter; nice warm weather, good for the 'arvest. Just come up from the
+country--a bit dusty, ain't I?"
+
+"Ain't you the chap," said William, "what laid Mr. Ketley six 'alf-crowns
+to one against Cross Roads?"
+
+Charles nodded, and William continued--
+
+"I like your cheek coming into my bar."
+
+"No harm done, gov'nor; no one was about; wouldn't 'ave done it if they
+had."
+
+"That'll do," said William. "... No, he don't want the coat. We likes to
+know where our things comes from."
+
+Bill Evans finished his glass. "Good-night, guv'nor; no ill-feeling."
+
+The flower-girls laughed; one offered him a flower. "Take it for love,"
+she said. He was kind enough to do so, and the three went out together.
+
+"I don't like the looks of that chap," said William, and he let go the
+champagne cork. "Yer health, sir." They raised their glasses, and the
+conversation turned on next week's racing.
+
+"I dun know about next week's events," said old John, "but I've heard of
+something for the Leger--an outsider will win."
+
+"Have you backed it?"
+
+"I would if I had the money, but things have been going very unlucky with
+me lately. But I'd advise you, sir, to have a trifle on. It's the best tip
+I 'ave had in my life."
+
+"Really!" said Ginger, beginning to feel interested, "so I will, and so
+shall you. I'm damned if you shan't have your bit on. Come, what is it?
+William will lay the odds. What is it?"
+
+"Briar Rose, the White House stable, sir."
+
+"Why, I thought that--"
+
+"No such thing, sir; Briar Rose's the one."
+
+Ginger took up the paper. "Twenty-five to one Briar Rose taken."
+
+"You see, sir, it was taken."
+
+"Will you lay the price, William--twenty-five half-sovereigns to one?"
+
+"Yes, I'll lay it."
+
+Ginger took a half-sovereign from his pocket and handed it to the
+bookmaker.
+
+"I never take money over this bar. You're good for a thin 'un, sir,"
+William said, with a smile, as he handed back the money.
+
+"But I don't know when I shall see you again," said Ginger. "It will be
+very inconvenient. There's no one in the bar."
+
+"None but the match-seller and them two flower-girls. I suppose they don't
+matter?"
+
+Happiness flickered up through the old greyness of the face. Henceforth
+something to live for. Each morning bringing news of the horse, and the
+hours of the afternoon passing pleasantly, full of thoughts of the evening
+paper and the gossip of the bar. A bet on a race brings hope into lives
+which otherwise would be hopeless.
+
+
+
+
+XXXI
+
+
+Never had a Derby excited greater interest. Four hot favourites, between
+which the public seemed unable to choose. Two to one taken and offered
+against Fly-leaf, winner of the Two Thousand; four to one taken and
+offered against Signet-ring, who, half-trained, had run Fly-leaf to a
+head. Four to one against Necklace, the winner of the Middle Park Plate
+and the One Thousand. Seven to one against Dewberry, the brilliant winner
+of the Newmarket stakes. The chances of these horses were argued every
+night at the "King's Head." Ketley's wife used to wear a string of yellow
+beads when she was a girl, but she wasn't certain what had become of them.
+Ketley did not wear a signet-ring, and had never known anyone who did.
+Dewberries grew on the river banks, but they were not ripe yet. Fly-leaf,
+he could not make much of that--not being much of a reader. So what with
+one thing and another Ketley didn't believe much in this 'ere Derby.
+Journeyman caustically remarked that, omens or no omens, one horse was
+bound to win. Why didn't Herbert look for an omen among the outsiders? Old
+John's experiences led him to think that the race lay between Fly-leaf and
+Signet-ring. He had a great faith in blood, and Signet-ring came of a more
+staying stock than did Fly-leaf. "When they begin to climb out of the dip
+Fly-leaf will have had about enough of it." Stack nodded approval. He had
+five bob on Dewberry. He didn't know much about his staying powers, but
+all the stable is on him; "and when I know the stable-money is right I
+says, 'That's good enough for me!'"
+
+Ginger, who came in occasionally, was very sweet on Necklace, whom he
+declared to be the finest mare of the century. He was listened to with
+awed attention, and there was a death-like silence in the bar when he
+described how she had won the One Thousand. He wouldn't have ridden her
+quite that way himself; but then what was a steeplechase rider's opinion
+worth regarding a flat race? The company demurred, and old John alluded to
+Ginger's magnificent riding when he won the Liverpool on Foxcover,
+steadying the horse about sixty yards from home, and bringing him up with
+a rush in the last dozen strides, nailing Jim Sutton, who had persevered
+all the way, on the very post by a head. Bill Evans, who happened to look
+in that evening, said that he would not be surprised to see all the four
+favourites bowled out by an outsider. He had heard something that was good
+enough for him. He didn't suppose the guv'nor would take him on the nod,
+but he had a nice watch which ought to be good for three ten.
+
+"Turn it up, old mate," said William.
+
+"All right, guv'nor, I never presses my goods on them that don't want 'em.
+If there's any other gentleman who would like to look at this 'ere
+timepiece, or a pair of sleeve links, they're in for fifteen shillings.
+Here's the ticket. I'm a bit short of money, and have a fancy for a
+certain outsider. I'd like to have my bit on, and I'll dispose of the
+ticket for--what do you say to a thin 'un, Mr. Ketley?"
+
+"Did you 'ear me speak just now?" William answered angrily, "or shall I
+have to get over the counter?"
+
+"I suppose, Mrs. Latch, you have seen a great deal of racing?" said
+Ginger.
+
+"No, sir. I've heard a great deal about racing, but I never saw a race
+run."
+
+"How's that, shouldn't you care?"
+
+"You see, my husband has his betting to attend to, and there's the house
+to look after."
+
+"I never thought of it before," said William. "You've never seen a race
+run, no more you haven't. Would you care to come and see the Derby run
+next week, Esther?"
+
+"I think I should."
+
+At that moment the policeman stopped and looked in. All eyes went up to
+the clock, and Esther said, "We shall lose our licence if----"
+
+"If we don't get out," said Ginger.
+
+William apologised.
+
+"The law is the law, sir, for rich and poor alike; should be sorry to
+hurry you, sir, but in these days very little will lose a man his house.
+Now, Herbert, finish your drink. No, Walter, can't serve any more liquor
+to-night.... Charles, close the private bar, let no one else in.... Now,
+gentlemen, gentlemen."
+
+Old John lit his pipe and led the way. William held the door for them. A
+few minutes after the house was closed.
+
+A locking of drawers, fastening of doors, putting away glasses, making
+things generally tidy, an hour's work before bed-time, and then they
+lighted their candle in the little parlour and went upstairs.
+
+William flung off his coat. "I'm dead beat," he said, "and all this to
+lose----" He didn't finish the sentence. Esther said--
+
+"You've a heavy book on the Derby. Perhaps an outsider'll win."
+
+"I 'ope so.... But if you'd care to see the race, I think it can be
+managed. I shall be busy, but Journeyman or Ketley will look after you."
+
+"I don't know that I should care to walk about all day with Journeyman,
+nor Ketley neither."
+
+They were both tired, and with an occasional remark they undressed and got
+into bed. Esther laid her head on the pillow and closed her eyes....
+
+"I wonder if there's any one going who you'd care for?"
+
+"I don't care a bit about it, Bill." The conversation paused. At the end
+of a long silence William said--
+
+"It do seem strange that you who has been mixed up in it so much should
+never have seen a race." Esther didn't answer. She was falling asleep, and
+William's voice was beginning to sound vague in her ears. Suddenly she
+felt him give her a great shove. "Wake up, old girl, I've got it. Why not
+ask your old pal, Sarah Tucker, to go with us? I heard John say she's out
+of situation. It'll be a nice treat for her."
+
+"Ah.... I should like to see Sarah again."
+
+"You're half asleep."
+
+"No, I'm not; you said we might ask Sarah to come to the Derby with us."
+
+William regretted that he had not a nice trap to drive them down. To hire
+one would run into a deal of money, and he was afraid it might make him
+late on the course. Besides, the road wasn't what it used to be; every one
+goes by train now. They dropped off to sleep talking of how they should
+get Sarah's address.
+
+Three or four days passed, and one morning William jumped out of bed and
+said--
+
+"I think it will be a fine day, Esther." He took out his best suit of
+clothes, and selected a handsome silk scarf for the occasion. Esther was a
+heavy sleeper, and she lay close to the wall, curled up. Taking no notice
+of her, William went on dressing; then he said--
+
+"Now then, Esther, get up. Teddy will be here presently to pack up my
+clothes."
+
+"Is it time to get up?"
+
+"Yes, I should think it was. For God's sake, get up."
+
+She had a new dress for the Derby. It had been bought in Tottenham Court
+Road, and had only come home last night. A real summer dress! A lilac
+pattern on a white ground, the sleeves and throat and the white hat
+tastefully trimmed with lilac and white lace; a nice sunshade to match. At
+that moment a knock came at the door.
+
+"All right, Teddy, wait a moment, my wife's not dressed yet. Do make
+haste, Esther."
+
+Esther stepped into the skirt so as not to ruffle her hair, and she was
+buttoning the bodice when little Mr. Blamy entered.
+
+"Sorry to disturb you, ma'am, but there isn't no time to lose if the
+governor don't want to lose his place on the 'ill."
+
+"Now then, Teddy, make haste, get the toggery out; don't stand there
+talking."
+
+The little man spread the Gladstone bag upon the floor and took a suit of
+checks from the chest of drawers, each square of black and white nearly as
+large as a sixpence.
+
+"You'll wear the green tie, sir?" William nodded. The green tie was a yard
+of flowing sea-green silk. "I've got you a bunch of yellow flowers, sir;
+will you wear them now, or shall I put them in the bag?"
+
+William glanced at the bouquet. "They look a bit loud," he said; "I'll
+wait till we get on the course; put them in the bag."
+
+The card to be worn in the white hat--"William Latch, London," in gold
+letters on a green ground--was laid on top. The boots with soles three
+inches high went into the box on which William stood while he halloaed his
+prices to the crowd. Then there were the two poles which supported a strip
+of white linen, on which was written in gold letters, "William Latch, 'The
+King's Head,' London. Fair prices, prompt payment."
+
+It was a grey day, with shafts of sunlight coming through, and as the cab
+passed over Waterloo Bridge, London, various embankments and St. Paul's on
+one side, wharves and warehouses on the other, appeared in grey curves and
+straight silhouettes. The pavements were lined with young men--here and
+there a girl's dress was a spot of colour in the grey morning. At the
+station they met Journeyman and old John, but Sarah was nowhere to be
+found. William said--
+
+"We shall be late; we shall have to go without her."
+
+Esther's face clouded. "We can't go without her; don't be so impatient."
+At that moment a white muslin was seen in the distance, and Esther said,
+"I think that that's Sarah."
+
+"You can chatter in the train--you'll have a whole hour to talk about each
+other's dress; get in, get in," and William pressed them into a
+third-class carriage. They had not seen each other for so long a while,
+and there was so much to say that they did not know where to begin. Sarah
+was the first to speak.
+
+"I was kind of you to think of me. So you've married, and to him after
+all!" she added, lowering her voice.
+
+Esther laughed. "It do seem strange, don't it?"
+
+"You'll tell me all about it," she said. "I wonder we didn't run across
+one another before."
+
+They rolled out of the grey station into the light, and the plate-glass
+drew the rays together till they burnt the face and hands. They sped
+alongside of the upper windows nearly on a level with the red and yellow
+chimney-pots; they passed open spaces filled with cranes, old iron, and
+stacks of railway sleepers, pictorial advertisements, sky signs, great
+gasometers rising round and black in their iron cages over-topping or
+nearly the slender spires. A train steamed along a hundred-arched viaduct;
+and along a black embankment the other trains rushed by in a whirl of
+wheels, bringing thousands of clerks up from the suburbs to their city
+toil.
+
+The excursion jogged on, stopping for long intervals before strips of
+sordid garden where shirts and pink petticoats were blowing. Little
+streets ascended the hillsides; no more trams, 'buses, too, had
+disappeared, and afoot the folk hurried along the lonely pavements of
+their suburbs. At Clapham Junction betting men had crowded the platform;
+they all wore grey overcoats with race-glasses slung over their shoulders.
+And the train still rolled through the brick wilderness which old John
+said was all country forty years ago.
+
+The men puffed at their pipes, and old John's anecdotes about the days
+when he and the Gaffer, in company with all the great racing men of the
+day, used to drive down by road, were listened to with admiration. Esther
+had finished telling the circumstances in which she had met Margaret; and
+Sarah questioned her about William and how her marriage had come about.
+The train had stopped outside of a little station, and the blue sky, with
+its light wispy clouds, became a topic of conversation. Old John did not
+like the look of those clouds, and the women glanced at the waterproofs
+which they carried on their arms.
+
+They passed bits of common with cows and a stray horse, also a little
+rural cemetery; but London suddenly began again parish after parish, the
+same blue roofs, the same tenement houses. The train had passed the first
+cedar and the first tennis lawn. And knowing it to be a Derby excursion
+the players paused in their play and looked up. Again the line was
+blocked; the train stopped again and again. But it had left London behind,
+and the last stoppage was in front of a beautiful June landscape. A thick
+meadow with a square weather-beaten church showing between the spreading
+trees; miles of green corn, with birds flying in the bright air, and lazy
+clouds going out, making way for the endless blue of a long summer's day.
+
+
+
+
+XXXII
+
+
+It had been arranged that William should don his betting toggery at the
+"Spread Eagle Inn." It stood at the cross-roads, only a little way from
+the station--a square house with a pillared porch. Even at this early hour
+the London pilgrimage was filing by. Horses were drinking in the trough;
+their drivers were drinking in the bar; girls in light dresses shared
+glasses of beer with young men. But the greater number of vehicles passed
+without stopping, anxious to get on the course. They went round the turn
+in long procession, a policeman on a strong horse occupied the middle of
+the road. The waggonettes and coaches had red-coated guards, and the air
+was rent with the tooting of the long brass horns. Every kind of dingy
+trap went by, sometimes drawn by two, sometimes by only one horse--shays
+half a century old jingled along; there were even donkey-carts. Esther and
+Sarah were astonished at the number of costers, but old John told them
+that that was nothing to what it was fifty years ago. The year that
+Andover won the block began seven or eight miles from Epsom. They were
+often half-an-hour without moving. Such chaffing and laughing, the coster
+cracked his joke with the duke, but all that was done away with now.
+
+"Gracious!" said Esther, when William appeared in his betting toggery. "I
+shouldn't have known you."
+
+He did seem very wonderful in his checks, green necktie, yellow flowers,
+and white hat with its gold inscription, "Mr. William Latch, London."
+
+"It's all right," he said; "you never saw me before in these togs--fine,
+ain't they? But we're very late. Mr. North has offered to run me up to the
+course, but he's only two places. Teddy and me must be getting along--but
+you needn't hurry. The races won't begin for hours yet. It's only about a
+mile--a nice walk. These gentlemen will look after you. You know where to
+find me," he said, turning to John and Walter. "You'll look after my wife
+and Miss Tucker, won't you?" and forthwith he and Teddy jumped into a
+waggonette and drove away.
+
+"Well, that's what I calls cheek," said Sarah. "Going off by himself in a
+waggonette and leaving us to foot it."
+
+"He must look after his place on the 'ill or else he'll do no betting,"
+said Journeyman. "We've plenty of time; racing don't begin till after
+one."
+
+Recollections of what the road had once been had loosened John's tongue,
+and he continued his reminiscences of the great days when Sir Thomas
+Hayward had laid fifteen thousand to ten thousand three times over against
+the favourite. The third bet had been laid at this very spot, but the Duke
+would not accept the third bet, saying that the horse was then being
+backed on the course at evens. So Sir Thomas had only lost thirty thousand
+pounds on the race. Journeyman was deeply interested in the anecdote; but
+Sarah looked at the old man with a look that said, "Well, if I'm to pass
+the day with you two I never want to go to the Derby again.... Come on in
+front," she whispered to Esther, "and let them talk about their racing by
+themselves." The way led through a field ablaze with buttercups; it passed
+by a fish-pond into which three drunkards were gazing. "Do you hear what
+they're saying about the fish?" said Sarah.
+
+"Don't pay no attention to them," said Esther. "If you knew as much about
+drunkards as I do, you'd want no telling to give them a wide berth....
+Isn't the country lovely? Isn't the air soft and warm?"
+
+"Oh, I don't want no more country. I'm that glad to get back to town. I
+wouldn't take another situation out of London if I was offered twenty a
+year."
+
+"But look," said Esther, "at the trees. I've hardly been in the country
+since I left Woodview, unless you call Dulwich the country--that's where
+Jackie was at nurse."
+
+The Cockney pilgrimage passed into a pleasant lane overhung with chestnut
+and laburnum trees. The spring had been late, and the white blossoms stood
+up like candles--the yellow dropped like tassels, and the streaming
+sunlight filled the leaves with tints of pale gold, and their light
+shadows patterned the red earth of the pathway. But very soon this
+pleasant pathway debouched on a thirsting roadway where tired horses
+harnessed to heavy vehicles toiled up a long hill leading to the Downs.
+The trees intercepted the view, and the blown dust whitened the foliage
+and the wayside grass, now in possession of hawker and vagrant. The crowd
+made way for the traps; and the young men in blue and grey trousers, and
+their girls in white dresses, turned and watched the four horses bringing
+along the tall drag crowned with London fashion. There the unwieldly
+omnibus and the brake filled with fat girls in pink dresses and yellow
+hats, and there the spring cart drawn up under a hedge. The cottage gates
+were crowded with folk come to see London going to the Derby. Outhouses
+had been converted into refreshment bars, and from these came a smell of
+beer and oranges; further on there was a lamentable harmonium--a blind man
+singing hymns to its accompaniment, and a one-legged man holding his hat
+for alms; and not far away there stood an earnest-eyed woman offering
+tracts, warning folk of their danger, beseeching them to retrace their
+steps.
+
+At last the trees ceased and they found themselves on the hilltop in a
+glare of sunlight, on a space of worn ground where donkeys were tethered.
+
+"Is this the Derby?" said Sarah.
+
+"I hope you're not disappointed?"
+
+"No, dear; but where's all the people--the drags, the carriages?"
+
+"We'll see them presently," said old John, and he volunteered some
+explanations. The white building was the Grand Stand. The winning-post was
+a little further this way.
+
+"Where do they start?" said Sarah.
+
+"Over yonder, where you see that clump. They run through the furze right
+up to Tattenham Corner."
+
+A vast crowd swarmed over the opposite hill, and beyond the crowd the
+women saw a piece of open downland dotted with bushes, and rising in
+gentle incline to a belt of trees which closed the horizon. "Where them
+trees are, that's _Tattenham Corner_." The words seemed to fill old John
+with enthusiasm, and he described how the horses came round this side of
+the trees. "They comes right down that 'ere 'ill--there's the dip--and
+they finishes opposite to where we is standing. Yonder, by Barnard's
+Ring."
+
+"What, all among the people?" said Sarah.
+
+"The police will get the people right back up the hill."
+
+"That's where we shall find William," said Esther.
+
+"I'm getting a bit peckish; ain't you, dear? He's got the
+luncheon-basket.... but, lor', what a lot of people! Look at that."
+
+What had attracted Sarah's attention was a boy walking through the crowd
+on a pair of stilts fully eight feet high. He uttered short warning cries
+from time to time, held out his wide trousers and caught pennies in his
+conical cap. Drags and carriages continued to arrive. The sweating horses
+were unyoked, and grooms and helpers rolled the vehicles into position
+along the rails. Lackeys drew forth cases of wine and provisions, and the
+flutter of table-cloths had begun to attract vagrants, itinerant
+musicians, fortune-tellers, begging children. All these plied their trades
+round the fashion of grey frock-coats and silk sun-shades. Along the rails
+rough fellows lay asleep; the place looked like a vast dormitory; they lay
+with their hats over their faces, clay pipes sticking from under the
+brims, their brown-red hands upon the grey grass.
+
+Suddenly old John pleaded an appointment; he was to meet a friend who
+would give him the very latest news respecting a certain horse; and
+Esther, Sarah, and Journeyman wandered along the course in search of
+William. Along the rails strangely-dressed men stood on stools, satchels
+and race-glasses slung over their shoulders, great bouquets in their
+button-holes. Each stood between two poles on which was stretched a piece
+of white-coloured linen, on which was inscribed their name in large gold
+letters. Sarah read some of these names out: "Jack Hooper, Marylebone. All
+bets paid." "Tom Wood's famous boxing rooms, Epsom." "James Webster,
+Commission Agent, London." And these betting men bawled the prices from
+the top of their high stools and shook their satchels, which were filled
+with money, to attract custom. "What can I do for you to-day, sir?" they
+shouted when they caught the eye of any respectably-dressed man. "On the
+Der-by, on the Der-by, I'll bet the Der-by.... To win or a place, to win
+or a place, to win or a place--seven to one bar two or three, seven to one
+bar two or three.... the old firm, the old firm,"--like so many
+challenging cocks, each trying to outshrill the other.
+
+Under the hill-side in a quiet hollow had been pitched a large and
+commodious tent. Journeyman mentioned that it was the West London
+Gospel-tent. He thought the parson would have it pretty well all to
+himself, and they stopped before a van filled with barrels of Watford
+ales. A barrel had been taken from the van and placed on a small table;
+glasses of beer were being served to a thirsty crowd; and all around were
+little canvas shelters, whence men shouted, "'Commodation, 'commodation."
+
+The sun had risen high, and what clouds remained floated away like
+filaments of white cotton. The Grand Stand, dotted like a ceiling with
+flies, stood out distinct and harsh upon a burning plain of blue. The
+light beat fiercely upon the booths, the carriages, the vehicles, the
+"rings," the various stands. The country around was lost in the haze and
+dazzle of the sunlight; but a square mile of downland fluttered with flags
+and canvas, and the great mob swelled, and smoked, and drank, shied sticks
+at Aunt Sally, and rode wooden horses. And through this crush of
+perspiring, shrieking humanity Journeyman, Esther, and Sarah sought vainly
+for William. The form of the ground was lost in the multitude and they
+could only tell by the strain in their limbs whether they were walking up
+or down hill. Sarah declared herself to be done up, and it was with
+difficulty that she was persuaded to persevere a little longer. At last
+Journeyman caught sight of the bookmaker's square shoulders.
+
+"Well, so here you are. What can I do for you, ladies? Ten to one bar
+three or four. Will that suit you?"
+
+"The luncheon-basket will suit us a deal better," said Sarah.
+
+At that moment a chap came up jingling two half-crowns in his hand. "What
+price the favourite?" "Two to one," cried William. The two half-crowns
+were dropped into the satchel, and, thus encouraged, William called out
+louder than ever, "The old firm, the old firm; don't forget the old firm."
+There was a smile on his lips while he halloaed--a cheery, good-natured
+smile, which made him popular and brought him many a customer.
+
+"On the Der-by, on the Der-by, on the Der-by!" All kinds and conditions of
+men came to make bets with him; custom was brisk; he could not join the
+women, who were busy with the lunch-basket, but he and Teddy would be
+thankful for the biggest drink they could get them. "Ginger beer with a
+drop of whiskey in it, that's about it, Teddy?"
+
+"Yes, guv'nor, that'll do for me.... We're getting pretty full on
+Dewberry; might come down a point, I think."
+
+"All right, Teddy.... And if you'd cut us a couple each of strong
+sandwiches--you can manage a couple, Teddy?"
+
+"I think I can, guv'nor."
+
+There was a nice piece of beef in the basket, and Esther cut several large
+sandwiches, buttering the bread thickly and adding plenty of mustard. When
+she brought them over William bent down and whispered--
+
+"My own duck of a wife, there's no one like her."
+
+Esther blushed and laughed with pleasure, and every trace of the
+resentment for the suffering he had occasioned her dropped out of her
+heart. For the first time he was really her husband; for the first time
+she felt that sense of unity in life which is marriage, and knew
+henceforth he was the one thing that she had to live for.
+
+After luncheon Journeyman, who was making no way with Sarah, took his
+leave, pleading that he had some friends to meet in Barnard's Ring. They
+were glad to be rid of him. Sarah had many a tale to tell; and while
+listening to the matrimonial engagements that had been broken off, Esther
+shifted her parasol from time to time to watch her tall, gaunt husband. He
+shouted the odds, willing to bet against every horse, distributed tickets
+to the various folk that crowded round him, each with his preference, his
+prejudice, his belief in omens, in tips, or in the talent and luck of a
+favourite jockey. Sarah continued her cursive chatter regarding the places
+she had served in. She felt inclined for a snooze, but was afraid it would
+not look well. While hesitating she ceased speaking, and both women fell
+asleep under the shade of their parasols. It was the shallow, glassy sleep
+of the open air, through which they divined easily the great blur that was
+the race-course.
+
+They could hear William's voice, and they heard a bell ring and shouts of
+"Here they come!" Then a lull came, and their perceptions grew a little
+denser, and when they awoke the sky was the same burning blue, and the
+multitude moved to and fro like puppets.
+
+Sarah was in no better temper after than before her sleep. "It's all very
+well for you," she said. "You have your husband to look after.... I'll
+never come to the Derby again without a young man... I'm tired of sitting
+here, the grass is roasting. Come for a walk."
+
+They were two nice-looking English women of the lower classes, prettily
+dressed in light gowns with cheap sunshades in their cotton-gloved hands.
+Sarah looked at every young man with regretful eyes. In such moods
+acquaintanceships are made; and she did not allow Esther to shake off Bill
+Evans, who, just as if he had never been turned out of the bar of the
+"King's Head," came up with his familiar, "Good morning, ma'am--lovely
+weather for the races." Sarah's sidelong glances at the blue Melton jacket
+and the billycock hat defined her feelings with sufficient explicitness,
+and it was not probable that any warning would have been heeded. Soon they
+were engaged in animated conversation, and Esther was left to follow them
+if she liked.
+
+She walked by Sarah's side, quite ignored, until she was accosted by Fred
+Parsons. They were passing by the mission tent, and Fred was calling upon
+the folk to leave the ways of Satan for those of Christ. Bill Evans was
+about to answer some brutal insult; but seeing that "the Christian" knew
+Esther he checked himself in time. Esther stopped to speak to Fred, and
+Bill seized the opportunity to slip away with Sarah.
+
+"I didn't expect to meet you here, Esther."
+
+"I'm here with my husband. He said a little pleasure----"
+
+"This is not innocent pleasure, Esther; this is drunkenness and
+debauchery. I hope you'll never come again, unless you come with us," he
+said, pointing to some girls dressed as bookmakers, with Salvation and
+Perdition written on the satchels hung round their shoulders. They sought
+to persuade the passers-by to come into the tent. "We shall be very glad
+to see you," they said, and they distributed mock racing cards on which
+was inscribed news regarding certain imaginary racing. "The Paradise
+Plate, for all comers," "The Salvation Stakes, an Eternity of Happiness
+added."
+
+Fred repeated his request. "I hope the next time you come here it will be
+with us; you'll strive to collect some of Christ's lost sheep."
+
+"And my husband making a book yonder?"
+
+An awkward silence intervened, and then he said--
+
+"Won't you come in; service is going on?"
+
+Esther followed him. In the tent there were some benches, and on a
+platform a grey-bearded man with an anxious face spoke of sinners and
+redemption. Suddenly a harmonium began to play a hymn, and, standing side
+by side, Esther and Fred sang together. Prayer was so inherent in her that
+she felt no sense of incongruity, and had she been questioned she would
+have answered that it did not matter where we are, or what we are doing,
+we can always have God in our hearts.
+
+Fred followed her out.
+
+"You have not forgotten your religion, I hope?"
+
+"No, I never could forget that."
+
+"Then why do I find you in such company? You don't come here like us to
+find sinners."
+
+"I haven't forgotten God, but I must do my duty to my husband. It would be
+like setting myself up against my husband's business, and you don't think
+I ought to do that? A wife that brings discord into the family is not a
+good wife, so I've often heard."
+
+"You always thought more of your husband than of Christ, Esther."
+
+"Each one must follow Christ as best he can! It would be wrong of me to
+set myself against my husband."
+
+"So he married you?" Fred answered bitterly.
+
+"Yes. You thought he'd desert me a second time; but he's been the best of
+husbands."
+
+"I place little reliance on those who are not with Christ. His love for
+you is not of the Spirit. Let us not speak of him. I loved you very
+deeply, Esther. I would have brought you to Christ.... But perhaps you'll
+come to see us sometimes."
+
+"I do not forget Christ. He's always with me, and I believe you did care
+for me. I was sorry to break it off, you know I was. It was not my fault."
+
+"Esther, it was I who loved you."
+
+"You mustn't talk like that. I'm a married woman."
+
+"I mean no harm, Esther. I was only thinking of the past."
+
+"You must forget all that... Good-bye; I'm glad to have seen you, and that
+we said a prayer together."
+
+Fred didn't answer, and Esther moved away, wondering where she should find
+Sarah.
+
+
+
+
+XXXIII
+
+
+The crowd shouted. She looked where the others looked, but saw only the
+burning blue with the white stand marked upon it. It was crowded like the
+deck of a sinking vessel, and Esther wondered at the excitement, the cause
+of which was hidden from her. She wandered to the edge of the crowd until
+she came to a chalk road where horses and mules were tethered. A little
+higher up she entered the crowd again, and came suddenly upon a switchback
+railway. Full of laughing and screaming girls, it bumped over a middle
+hill, and then rose slowly till it reached the last summit. It was shot
+back again into the midst of its fictitious perils, and this mock voyaging
+was accomplished to the sound of music from a puppet orchestra. Bells and
+drums, a fife and a triangle, cymbals clashed mechanically, and a little
+soldier beat the time. Further on, under a striped awning, were the wooden
+horses. They were arranged so well that they rocked to and fro, imitating
+as nearly as possible the action of real horses. Esther watched the
+riders. A blue skirt looked like a riding habit, and a girl in salmon pink
+leaned back in her saddle just as if she had been taught how to ride. A
+girl in a grey jacket encouraged a girl in white who rode a grey horse.
+But before Esther could make out for certain that the man in the blue
+Melton jacket was Bill Evans he had passed out of sight, and she had to
+wait until his horse came round the second time. At that moment she caught
+sight of the red poppies in Sarah's hat.
+
+The horses began to slacken speed. They went slower and slower, then
+stopped altogether. The riders began to dismount and Esther pressed
+through the bystanders, fearing she would not be able to overtake her
+friends.
+
+"Oh, here you are," said Sarah. "I thought I never should find you again.
+How hot it is!"
+
+"Were you on in that ride? Let's have another, all three of us. These
+three horses."
+
+Round and round they went, their steeds bobbing nobly up and down to the
+sound of fifes, drums and cymbals. They passed the winning-post many
+times; they had to pass it five times, and the horse that stopped nearest
+it won the prize. A long-drawn-out murmur, continuous as the sea, swelled
+up from the course--a murmur which at last passed into words: "Here they
+come; blue wins, the favourite's beat." Esther paid little attention to
+these cries; she did not understand them; they reached her indistinctly
+and soon died away, absorbed in the strident music that accompanied the
+circling horses. These had now begun to slacken speed.... They went slower
+and slower. Sarah and Bill, who rode side by side, seemed like winning,
+but at the last moment they glided by the winning-post. Esther's steed
+stopped in time, and she was told to choose a china mug from a great heap.
+
+"You've all the luck to-day," said Bill. "Hayfield, who was backed all the
+winter, broke down a month ago.... 2 to 1 against Fly-leaf, 4 to 1 against
+Signet-ring, 4 to 1 against Dewberry, 10 to 1 against Vanguard, the winner
+at 50 to 1 offered. Your husband must have won a little fortune. Never was
+there such a day for the bookies."
+
+Esther said she was very glad, and was undecided which mug she should
+choose. At last she saw one on which "Jack" was written in gold letters.
+They then visited the peep-shows, and especially liked St. James's Park
+with the Horse Guards out on parade; the Spanish bull-fight did not stir
+them, and Sarah couldn't find a single young man to her taste in the House
+of Commons. Among the performing birds they liked best a canary that
+climbed a ladder. Bill was attracted by the American strength-testers, and
+he gave an exhibition of his muscle, to Sarah's very great admiration.
+They all had some shies at cocoa-nuts, and passed by J. Bilton's great
+bowling saloon without visiting it. Once more the air was rent with the
+cries of "Here they come! Here they come!" Even the 'commodation men left
+their canvas shelters and pressed forward inquiring which had won. A
+moment after a score of pigeons floated and flew through the blue air and
+then departed in different directions, some making straight for London,
+others for the blue mysterious evening that had risen about the Downs--the
+sun-baked Downs strewn with waste paper and covered by tipsy men and
+women, a screaming and disordered animality.
+
+"Well, so you've come back at last," said William. "The favourite was
+beaten. I suppose you know that a rank outsider won. But what about this
+gentleman?"
+
+"Met these 'ere ladies on the 'ill an' been showing them over the course.
+No offence, I hope, guv'nor?"
+
+William did not answer, and Bill took leave of Sarah in a manner that told
+Esther that they had arranged to meet again.
+
+"Where did you pick up that bloke?"
+
+"He came up and spoke to us, and Esther stopped to speak to the parson."
+
+"To the parson. What do you mean?"
+
+The circumstance was explained, and William asked them what they thought
+of the racing.
+
+"We didn't see no racing," said Sarah; "we was on the 'ill on the wooden
+'orses. Esther's 'orse won. She got a mug; show the mug, Esther."
+
+"So you saw no Derby after all?" said William.
+
+"Saw no racin'!" said his neighbour; "ain't she won the cup?"
+
+The joke was lost on the women, who only perceived that they were being
+laughed at.
+
+"Come up here, Esther," said William; "stand on my box. The 'orses are
+just going up the course for the preliminary canter. And you, Sarah, take
+Teddy's place. Teddy, get down, and let the lady up."
+
+"Yes, guv'nor. Come up 'ere, ma'am."
+
+"And is those the 'orses?" said Sarah. "They do seem small."
+
+The ringmen roared. "Not up to those on the 'ill, ma'am," said one. "Not
+such beautiful goers," said another.
+
+There were two or three false starts, and then, looking through a
+multitude of hats, Esther saw five or six thin greyhound-looking horses.
+They passed like shadows, flitted by; and she was sorry for the poor
+chestnut that trotted in among the crowd.
+
+This was the last race. Once more the favourite had been beaten; there
+were no bets to pay, and the bookmakers began to prepare for departure. It
+was the poor little clerks who were charged with the luggage. Teddy did
+not seem as if he would ever reach the top of the hill. With Esther and
+Sarah on either arm, William struggled with the crowd. It was hard to get
+through the block of carriages. Everywhere horses waited with their
+harness on, and Sarah was afraid of being bitten or kicked. A young
+aristocrat cursed them from the box-seat, and the groom blew a blast as
+the drag rolled away. It was like the instinct of departure which takes a
+vast herd at a certain moment. The great landscape, half country, half
+suburb, glinted beneath the rays of a setting sun; and through the white
+dust, and the drought of the warm roads, the brakes and carriages and
+every crazy vehicle rolled towards London; orange-sellers, tract-sellers,
+thieves, vagrants, gipsies, made for their various quarters--roadside
+inns, outhouses, hayricks, hedges, or the railway station. Down the long
+hill the vast crowd made its way, humble pedestrians and carriage folk,
+all together, as far as the cross-roads. At the "Spread Eagle" there would
+be stoppage for a parting drink, there the bookmakers would change their
+clothes, and there division would happen in the crowd--half for the
+railway station, half for the London road. It was there that the
+traditional sports of the road began. A drag, with a band of exquisites
+armed with pea-shooters, peppering on costers who were getting angry, and
+threatening to drive over the leaders. A brake with two poles erected, and
+hanging on a string quite a line of miniature chamber-pots. A horse, with
+his fore-legs clothed in a pair of lady's drawers. Naturally unconscious
+of the garment, the horse stepped along so absurdly that Esther and Sarah
+thought they'd choke with laughter.
+
+At the station William halloaed to old John, whom he caught sight of on
+the platform. He had backed the winner--forty to one about Sultan. It was
+Ketley who had persuaded him to risk half a sovereign on the horse. Ketley
+was at the Derby; he had met him on the course, and Ketley had told him a
+wonderful story about a packet of Turkish Delight. The omen had come right
+this time, and Journeyman took a back seat.
+
+"Say what you like," said William, "it is damned strange; and if anyone
+did find the way of reading them omens there would be an end of us
+bookmakers." He was only half in earnest, but he regretted he had not met
+Ketley. If he had only had a fiver on the horse--200 to 5!
+
+They met Ketley at Waterloo, and every one wanted to hear from his own
+lips the story of the packet of Turkish Delight. So William proposed they
+should all come up to the "King's Head" for a drink. The omnibus took them
+as far as Piccadilly Circus; and there the weight of his satchel tempted
+William to invite them to dinner, regardless of expense.
+
+"Which is the best dinner here?" he asked the commissionaire.
+
+"The East Room is reckoned the best, sir."
+
+The fashion of the shaded candles and the little tables, and the beauty of
+an open evening bodice and the black and white elegance of the young men
+at dinner, took the servants by surprise, and made them feel that they
+were out of place in such surroundings. Old John looked like picking up a
+napkin and asking at the nearest table if anything was wanted. Ketley
+proposed the grill room, but William, who had had a glass more than was
+good for him, declared that he didn't care a damn--that he could buy up
+the whole blooming show. The head-waiter suggested a private room; it was
+abruptly declined, and William took up the menu. "Bisque Soup, what's
+that? You ought to know, John." John shook his head. "Ris de veau! That
+reminds me of when----" William stopped and looked round to see if his
+former wife was in the room. Finally, the head-waiter was cautioned to
+send them up the best dinner in the place. Allusion was made to the dust
+and heat. Journeyman suggested a sluice, and they inquired their way to
+the lavatories. Esther and Sarah were away longer than the men, and stood
+dismayed at the top of the room till William called for them. The other
+guests seemed a little terrified, and the head-waiter, to reassure them,
+mentioned that it was Derby Day.
+
+William had ordered champagne, but it had not proved to any one's taste
+except, perhaps, to Sarah, whom it rendered unduly hilarious; nor did the
+delicate food afford much satisfaction; the servants played with it, and
+left it on their plates; and it was not until William ordered up the
+saddle of mutton and carved it himself that the dinner began to take hold
+of the company. Esther and Sarah enjoyed the ices, and the men stuck to
+the cheese, a fine Stilton, which was much appreciated. Coffee no one
+cared for, and the little glasses of brandy only served to augment the
+general tipsiness. William hiccupped out an order for a bottle of Jamieson
+eight-year-old; but pipes were not allowed, and cigars were voted tedious,
+so they adjourned to the bar, where they were free to get as drunk as they
+pleased. William said, "Now let's 'ear the blo----the bloody omen that put
+ye on to Sultan--that blood--packet of Turkish Delight."
+
+"Most extra--most extraordinary thing I ever heard in my life, so yer
+'ere?" said Ketley, staring at William and trying to see him distinctly.
+
+William nodded. "How was it? We want to 'ear all about it. Do hold yer
+tongue, Sarah. I beg pardon, Ketley is go--going to tell us about the
+bloody omen. Thought you'd like to he--ar, old girl."
+
+Allusion was made to a little girl coming home from school, and a piece of
+paper on the pavement. But Ketley could not concentrate his thoughts on
+the main lines of the story, and it was lost in various dissertations. But
+the company was none the less pleased with it, and willingly declared that
+bookmaking was only a game for mugs. Get on a winner at forty to one, and
+you could make as much in one bet as a poor devil of a bookie could in six
+months, fagging from race-course to race-course. They drank, argued, and
+quarrelled, until Esther noticed that Sarah was looking very pale. Old
+John was quite helpless; Journeyman, who seemed to know what he was doing,
+very kindly promised to look after him.
+
+Ketley assured the commissionaire that he was not drunk; and when they got
+outside Sarah felt obliged to step aside; she came back, saying that she
+felt a little better.
+
+They stood on the pavement's edge, a little puzzled by the brilliancy of
+the moonlight. And the three men who followed out of the bar-room were
+agreed regarding the worthlessness of life. One said, "I don't think much
+of it; all I live for is beer and women." The phrase caught on William's
+ear, and he said, "Quite right, old mate," and he held out his hand to
+Bill Evans. "Beer and women, it always comes round to that in the end, but
+we mustn't let them hear us say it." The men shook hands, and Bill
+promised to see Sarah safely home. Esther tried to interpose, but William
+could not be made to understand, and Sarah and Bill drove away together in
+a hansom. Sarah dozed off immediately on his shoulder, and it was
+difficult to awaken her when the cab stopped before a house whose
+respectability took Bill by surprise.
+
+
+
+
+XXXIV
+
+
+Things went well enough as long as her savings lasted. When her money was
+gone Bill returned to the race-course in the hope of doing a bit of
+welshing. Soon after he was "wanted" by the police; they escaped to
+Belgium, and it devolved on Sarah to support him. The hue and cry over,
+they came back to London.
+
+She had been sitting up for him; he had come home exasperated and
+disappointed. A row soon began; and she thought that he would strike her.
+But he refrained, for fear, perhaps, of the other lodgers. He took her
+instead by the arm, dragged her down the broken staircase, and pushed her
+into the court. She heard the retreating footsteps, and saw a cat slink
+through a grating, and she wished that she too could escape from the light
+into the dark.
+
+A few belated women still lingered in the Strand, and the city stood up
+like a prison, hard and stark in the cold, penetrating light of morning.
+She sat upon a pillar's base, her eyes turned towards the cabmen's
+shelter. The horses munched in their nose-bags, and the pigeons came down
+from their roosts. She was dressed in an old black dress, her hands lay
+upon her knees, and the pose expressed so perfectly the despair and
+wretchedness in her soul that a young man in evening clothes, who had
+looked sharply at her as he passed, turned and came back to her, and he
+asked her if he could assist her. She answered, "Thank you, sir." He
+slipped a shilling into her hand. She was too broken-hearted to look up in
+his face, and he walked away wondering what was her story. The disordered
+red hair, the thin, freckled face, were expressive, and so too was the
+movement of her body when she got up and walked, not knowing and not
+caring where she was going. There was sensation of the river in her
+thoughts; the river drew her, and she indistinctly remembered that she
+would find relief there if she chose to accept that relief. The water was
+blue beneath the sunrise, and it seemed to offer to end her life's
+trouble. She could not go on living. She could not bear with her life any
+longer, and yet she knew that she would not drown herself that morning.
+There was not enough will in her to drown herself. She was merely half
+dead with grief. He had turned her out, he had said that he never wanted
+to see her again, but that was because he had been unlucky. She ought to
+have gone to bed and not waited up for him; he didn't know what he was
+doing; so long as he didn't care for another woman there was hope that he
+might come back to her. The spare trees rustled their leaves in the bright
+dawn air, and she sat down on a bench and watched the lamps going out, and
+the river changing from blue to brown. Hours passed, and the same thoughts
+came and went, until with sheer weariness of thinking she fell asleep.
+
+She was awakened by the policeman, and she once more continued her walk.
+The omnibuses had begun; women were coming from market with baskets on
+their arms; and she wondered if their lovers and husbands were unfaithful
+to them, if they would be received with blows or knocks when they
+returned. Her slightest mistakes had often, it seemed, merited a blow; and
+God knows she had striven to pick out the piece of bacon that she thought
+he would like, and it was not her fault that she couldn't get any money
+nowhere. Why was he cruel to her? He never would find another woman to
+care for him more than she did.... Esther had a good husband, Esther had
+always been lucky. Two hours more to wait, and she felt so tired, so
+tired. The milk-women were calling their ware--those lusty short-skirted
+women that bring an air of country into the meanest alley. She sat down on
+a doorstep and looked on the empty Haymarket, vaguely conscious of the low
+vice which still lingered there though the morning was advancing. She
+turned up Shaftesbury Avenue, and from the beginning of Dean Street she
+watched to see if the shutters were yet down. She thought they were, and
+then saw that she was mistaken. There was nothing to do but to wait, and
+on the steps of the Royalty Theatre she waited. The sun was shining, and
+she watched the cab horses, until the potboy came through and began
+cleaning the street lamp. She didn't care to ask him any questions;
+dressed as she was, he might answer her rudely. She wanted to see Esther
+first. Esther would pity and help her. So she did not go directly to the
+"King's Head," but went up the street a little way and came back. The
+boy's back was turned to her; she peeped through the doors. There was no
+one in the bar, she must go back to the steps of the theatre. A number of
+children were playing there, and they did not make way for her to sit
+down. She was too weary to argue the point, and walked up and down the
+street. When she looked through the doors a second time Esther was in the
+bar.
+
+"Is that you, Sarah?"
+
+"Yes, it is me."
+
+"Then come in.... How is it that we've not seen you all this time? What's
+the matter?"
+
+"I've been out all night. Bill put me out of doors this morning, and I've
+been walking about ever since."
+
+"Bill put you out of doors? I don't understand."
+
+"You know Bill Evans, the man we met on the race-course, the day we went
+to the Derby.... It began there. He took me home after your dinner at the
+'Criterion.'... It has been going on ever since."
+
+"Good Lord! ...Tell me about it."
+
+Leaning against the partition that separated the bars, Sarah told how she
+had left her home and gone to live with him.
+
+"We got on pretty well at first, but the police was after him, and we made
+off to Belgium. There we was very hard up, and I had to go out on the
+streets."
+
+"He made you do that?"
+
+"He couldn't starve, could he?"
+
+The women looked at each other, and then Sarah continued her story. She
+told how they had come to London, penniless. "I think he wants to turn
+honest," she said, "but luck's been dead against him.... It's that
+difficult for one like him, and he's been in work, but he can't stick to
+it; and now I don't know what he's doing--no good, I fancy. Last night I
+got anxious and couldn't sleep, so I sat up. It was about two when he came
+in. We had a row and he dragged me downstairs and he put me out. He said
+he never wanted to see my ugly face again. I don't think I'm as bad as
+that; I've led a hard life, and am not what I used to be, but it was he
+who made me what I am. Oh, it don't matter now, it can't be helped, it is
+all over with me. I don't care what becomes of me, only I thought I'd like
+to come and tell you. We was always friends."
+
+"You mustn't give way like that, old girl. You must keep yer pecker up.
+You're dead beat.... You've been walking about all night, no wonder. You
+must come and have some breakfast with us."
+
+"I should like a cup of tea, Esther. I never touches spirits now. I got
+over that."
+
+"Come into the parlour. You'll be better when you've had breakfast. We'll
+see what we can do for you."
+
+"Oh, Esther, not a word of what I've been telling you to your husband. I
+don't want to get Bill into trouble. He'd kill me. Promise me not to
+mention a word of it. I oughtn't to have told you. I was so tired that I
+didn't know what I was saying."
+
+There was plenty to eat--fried fish, a nice piece of steak, tea and
+coffee. "You seem to live pretty well," said Sarah, "It must be nice to
+have a servant of one's own. I suppose you're doing pretty well here."
+
+"Yes, pretty well, if it wasn't for William's health."
+
+"What's the matter? Ain't he well?"
+
+"He's been very poorly lately. It's very trying work going about from
+race-course to race-course, standing in the mud and wet all day long....
+He caught a bad cold last winter and was laid up with inflammation of the
+lungs, and I don't think he ever quite got over it."
+
+"Don't he go no more to race meetings?"
+
+"He hasn't been to a race meeting since the beginning of the winter. It
+was one of them nasty steeplechase meetings that laid him up."
+
+"Do 'e drink?"
+
+"He's never drunk, but he takes too much. Spirits don't suit him. He
+thought he could do what he liked, great strong-built fellow that he is,
+but he's found out his mistake."
+
+"He does his betting in London now, I suppose?"
+
+"Yes," said Esther, hesitating--"when he has any to do. I want him to give
+it up; but trade is bad in this neighbourhood, leastways, with us, and he
+don't think we could do without it."
+
+"It's very hard to keep it dark; some one's sure to crab it and bring the
+police down on you."
+
+Esther did not answer; the conversation paused, and William entered.
+"Halloa! is that you, Sarah? We didn't know what had become of you all
+this time." He noticed that she looked like one in trouble, and was very
+poorly dressed. She noticed that his cheeks were thinner than they used to
+be, and that his broad chest had sunk, and that there seemed to be
+strangely little space between it and his back. Then in brief phrases,
+interrupting each other frequently, the women told the story. William
+said--
+
+"I knew he was a bad lot. I never liked to see him inside my bar."
+
+"I thought," said Esther, "that Sarah might remain here for a time."
+
+"I can't have that fellow coming round my place."
+
+"There's no fear of his coming after me. He don't want to see my ugly face
+again. Well, let him try to find some one who will do for him all I have
+done."
+
+"Until she gets a situation," said Esther. "I think that'll be the best,
+for you to stop here until you get a situation."
+
+"And what about a character?"
+
+"You needn't say much about what you've been doing this last twelve
+months; if many questions are asked, you can say you've been stopping with
+us. But you mustn't see that brute again. If he ever comes into that 'ere
+bar, I'll give him a piece of my mind. I'd give him more than a piece of
+my mind if I was the man I was a twelvemonth ago." William coughed, and
+Esther looked at him anxiously.
+
+
+
+
+XXXV
+
+
+Lacking a parlour on the ground floor for the use of special customers,
+William had arranged a room upstairs where they could smoke and drink.
+There were tables in front of the windows and chairs against the walls,
+and in the middle of the room a bagatelle board.
+
+When William left off going to race-courses he had intended to refrain
+from taking money across the bar and to do all his betting business in
+this room.
+
+He thought that it would be safer. But as his customers multiplied he
+found that he could not ask them all upstairs; it attracted more attention
+than to take the money quietly across the bar. Nevertheless the room
+upstairs had proved a success. A man spent more money if he had a room
+where he could sit quietly among his friends than he would seated on a
+high stool in a public bar, jostled and pushed about; so it had come to be
+considered a sort of club room; and a large part of the neighbourhood came
+there to read the papers, to hear and discuss the news. And specially
+useful it had proved to Journeyman and Stack. Neither was now in
+employment; they were now professional backers; and from daylight to dark
+they wandered from public-house to public-house, from tobacconist to
+barber's shop, in the search of tips, on the quest of stable information
+regarding the health of the horses and their trials. But the room upstairs
+at the "King's Head" was the centre of their operations. Stack was the
+indefatigable tipster, Journeyman was the scientific student of public
+form. His memory was prodigious, and it enabled him to note an advantage
+in the weights which would escape an ordinary observer. He often picked
+out horses which, if they did not actually win, nearly always stood at a
+short price in the betting before the race.
+
+The "King's Head" was crowded during the dinner-hour. Barbers and their
+assistants, cabmen, scene-shifters, if there was an afternoon performance
+at the theatre, servants out of situation and servants escaped from their
+service for an hour, petty shopkeepers, the many who grow weary of the
+scant livelihood that work brings them, came there. Eleven o'clock! In
+another hour the bar and the room upstairs would be crowded. At present
+the room was empty, and Journeyman had taken advantage of the quiet time
+to do a bit of work at his handicap. All the racing of the last three
+years lay within his mind's range; he recalled at will every trifling
+selling race; hardly ever was he obliged to refer to the Racing Calendar.
+Wanderer had beaten Brick at ten pounds. Snow Queen had beaten Shoemaker
+at four pounds, and Shoemaker had beaten Wanderer at seven pounds. The
+problem was further complicated by the suspicion that Brick could get a
+distance of ground better than Snow Queen. Journeyman was undecided. He
+stroked his short brown moustache with his thin, hairy hand, and gnawed
+the end of his pen. In this moment of barren reflection Stack came into
+the room.
+
+"Still at yer 'andicap, I see," said Stack. "How does it work out?"
+
+"Pretty well," said Journeyman. "But I don't think it will be one of my
+best; there is some pretty hard nuts to crack."
+
+"Which are they?" said Stack. Journeyman brightened up, and he proceeded
+to lay before Stack's intelligence what he termed a "knotty point in
+collateral running."
+
+Stack listened with attention, and thus encouraged, Journeyman proceeded
+to point out certain distributions of weight which he said seemed to him
+difficult to beat.
+
+"Anyone what knows the running would say there wasn't a pin to choose
+between them at the weights. If this was the real 'andicap, I'd bet drinks
+all around that fifteen of these twenty would accept. And that's more than
+anyone will be able to say for Courtney's 'andicap. The weights will be
+out to-morrow; we shall see."
+
+"What do you say to 'alf a pint," said Stack, "and we'll go steadily
+through your 'andicap? You've nothing to do for the next 'alf-hour."
+
+Journeyman's dingy face lit up. When the potboy appeared in answer to the
+bell he was told to bring up two half-pints, and Journeyman read out the
+weights. Every now and then he stopped to explain his reasons for what
+might seem to be superficial, an unmerited severity, or an undue leniency.
+It was not usual for Journeyman to meet with so sympathetic a listener; he
+had often been made to feel that his handicapping was unnecessary, and he
+now noticed, and with much pleasure, that Stack's attention seemed to
+increase rather than to diminish as he approached the end. When he had
+finished Stack said, "I see you've given six-seven to Ben Jonson. Tell me
+why you did that?"
+
+"He was a good 'orse once; he's broken down and aged; he can't be trained,
+so six-seven seems just the kind of weight to throw him in at. You
+couldn't give him less, however old and broken down he may be. He was a
+good horse when he won the Great Ebor Grand Cup."
+
+"Do you think if they brought him to the post as fit and well as he was
+the day he won the Ebor that he'd win?"
+
+"What, fit and well as he was when he won the Great Ebor, and with
+six-seven on his back? He'd walk away with it."
+
+"You don't think any of the three-year-olds would have a chance with him?
+A Derby winner with seven stone on his back might beat him."
+
+"Yes, but nothing short of that. Even then old Ben would make a race of
+it. A nailing good horse once. A little brown horse about fifteen two, as
+compact as a leg of Welsh mutton.... But there's no use in thinking of
+him. They've been trying for years to train him. Didn't they used to get
+the flesh off him in a Turkish bath? That was Fulton's notion. He used to
+say that it didn't matter 'ow you got the flesh off so long as you got it
+off. Every pound of flesh off the lungs is so much wind, he used to say.
+But the Turkish bath trained horses came to the post limp as old rags. If
+a 'orse 'asn't the legs you can't train him. Every pound of flesh yer take
+off must put a pound 'o 'ealth on. They'll do no good with old Ben, unless
+they've found out a way of growing on him a pair of new forelegs. The old
+ones won't do for my money."
+
+"But do you think that Courtney will take the same view of his
+capabilities as you do--do you think he'll let him off as easily as you
+have?"
+
+"He can't give him much more.... The 'orse is bound to get in at seven
+stone, rather under than over."
+
+"I'm glad to 'ear yer say so, for I know you've a headpiece, and 'as all
+the running in there." Stack tapped his forehead. "Now, I'd like to ask
+you if there's any three-year-olds that would be likely to interfere with
+him?"
+
+"Derby and Leger winners will get from eight stone to eight stone ten, and
+three-year-olds ain't no good over the Cesarewitch course with more than
+eight on their backs."
+
+The conversation paused. Surprised at Stack's silence, Journeyman said--
+
+"Is there anything up? Have you heard anything particular about old Ben?"
+
+Stack bent forward. "Yes, I've heard something, and I'm making inquiries."
+
+"How did you hear it?"
+
+Stack drew his chair a little closer. "I've been up at Chalk Farm, the
+'Yarborough Arms'; you know, where the 'buses stop. Bob Barrett does a
+deal of business up there. He pays the landlord's rent for the use of the
+bar--Wednesdays, Fridays, and Saturdays is his days. Charley Grove bets
+there Mondays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays, but it is Bob that does the
+biggest part of the business. They say he's taken as much as twenty pounds
+in a morning. You know Bob, a great big man, eighteen stun if he's an
+ounce. He's a warm 'un, can put it on thick."
+
+"I know him; he do tell fine stories about the girls; he has the pick of
+the neighbourhood, wears a low hat, no higher than that, with a big brim.
+I know him. I've heard that he 'as moved up that way. Used at one time to
+keep a tobacconist's shop in Great Portland Street."
+
+"That's him," said Stack. "I thought you'd heard of him."
+
+"There ain't many about that I've not heard of. Not that I likes the man
+much. There was a girl I knew--she wouldn't hear his name mentioned. But
+he lays fair prices, and does, I believe, a big trade."
+
+"'As a nice 'ome at Brixton, keeps a trap; his wife as pretty a woman as
+you could wish to lay eyes on. I've seen her with him at Kempton."
+
+"You was up there this morning?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"It wasn't Bob Barrett that gave you the tip?"
+
+"Not likely." The men laughed, and then Stack said--
+
+"You know Bill Evans? You've seen him here, always wore a blue Melton
+jacket and billycock hat; a dark, stout, good-looking fellow; generally
+had something to sell, or pawn-tickets that he would part with for a
+trifle."
+
+"Yes, I know the fellow. We met him down at Epsom one Derby Day. Sarah
+Tucker, a friend of the missis, was dead gone on him."
+
+"Yes, she went to live with him. There was a row, and now, I believe,
+they're together again; they was seen out walking. They're friends,
+anyhow. Bill has been away all the summer, tramping. A bad lot, but one of
+them sort often hears of a good thing."
+
+"So it was from Bill Evans that you heard it."
+
+"Yes, it was from Bill. He has just come up from Eastbourne, where he 'as
+been about on the Downs a great deal. I don't know if it was the horses he
+was after, but in the course of his proceedings he heard from a shepherd
+that Ben Jonson was doing seven hours' walking exercise a day. This seemed
+to have fetched Bill a bit. Seven hours a day walking exercise do seem a
+bit odd, and being at the same time after one of the servants in the
+training stable--as pretty a bit of goods as he ever set eyes on, so Bill
+says--he thought he'd make an inquiry or two about all this walking
+exercise. One of the lads in the stable is after the girl, too, so Bill
+found out very soon all he wanted to know. As you says, the 'orse is dicky
+on 'is forelegs, that is the reason of all the walking exercise."
+
+"And they thinks they can bring him fit to the post and win the
+Cesarewitch with him by walking him all day?"
+
+"I don't say they don't gallop him at all; they do gallop him, but not as
+much as if his legs was all right."
+
+"That won't do. I don't believe in a 'orse winning the Cesarewitch that
+ain't got four sound legs, and old Ben ain't got more than two."
+
+"He's had a long rest, and they say he is sounder than ever he was since
+he won the Great Ebor. They don't say he'd stand no galloping, but they
+don't want to gallop him more than's absolutely necessary on account of
+the suspensory ligament; it ain't the back sinew, but the suspensory
+ligament. Their theory is this, that it don't so much matter about
+bringing him quite fit to the post, for he's sure to stay the course; he'd
+do that three times over. What they say is this, that if he gets in with
+seven stone, and we brings him well and three parts trained, there ain't
+no 'orse in England that can stand up before him. They've got another in
+the race, Laurel Leaf, to make the running for him; it can't be too strong
+for old Ben. You say to yourself that he may get let off with six-seven.
+If he do there'll be tons of money on him. He'll be backed at the post at
+five to one. Before the weights come out they'll lay a hundred to one on
+the field in any of the big clubs. I wouldn't mind putting a quid on him
+if you'll join me."
+
+"Better wait until the weights come out," said Journeyman, "for if it
+happened to come to Courtney's ears that old Ben could be trained he'd
+clap seven-ten on him without a moment's hesitation."
+
+"You think so?" said Stack.
+
+"I do," said Journeyman.
+
+"But you agree with me that if he got let off with anything less than
+seven stone, and be brought fit, or thereabouts, to the post, that the
+race is a moral certainty for him?"
+
+"A thousand to a brass farthing."
+
+"Mind, not a word."
+
+"Is it likely?"
+
+The conversation paused a moment, and Journeyman said, "You've not seen my
+'andicap for the Cambridgeshire. I wonder what you'd think of that?" Stack
+said he would be glad to see it another time, and suggested that they go
+downstairs.
+
+"I'm afraid the police is in," said Stack, when he opened the door.
+
+"Then we'd better stop where we are; I don't want to be took to the
+station."
+
+They listened for some moments, holding the door ajar.
+
+"It ain't the police," said Stack, "but a row about some bet. Latch had
+better be careful."
+
+The cause of the uproar was a tall young English workman, whose beard was
+pale gold, and whose teeth were white. He wore a rough handkerchief tied
+round his handsome throat. His eyes were glassy with drink, and his
+comrades strove to quieten him.
+
+"Leave me alone," he exclaimed; "the bet was ten half-crowns to one. I
+won't stand being welshed."
+
+William's face flushed up. "Welshed!" he said. "No one speaks in this bar
+of welshing." He would have sprung over the counter, but Esther held him
+back.
+
+"I know what I'm talking about; you let me alone," said the young workman,
+and he struggled out of the hands of his friends. "The bet was ten
+half-crowns to one."
+
+"Don't mind what he says, guv'nor."
+
+"Don't mind what I says!" For a moment it seemed as if the friends were
+about to come to blows, but the young man's perceptions suddenly clouded,
+and he said, "In this blo-ody bar last Monday... horse backed in
+Tattersall's at twelve to one taken and offered."
+
+"He don't know what he's talking about; but no one must accuse me of
+welshing in this 'ere bar."
+
+"No offence, guv'nor; mistakes will occur."
+
+William could not help laughing, and he sent Teddy upstairs for Monday's
+paper. He pointed out that eight to one was being asked for about the
+horse on Monday afternoon at Tattersall's. The stage door-keeper and a
+scene-shifter had just come over from the theatre, and had managed to
+force their way into the jug and bottle entrance. Esther and Charles had
+been selling beer and spirits as fast as they could draw it, but the
+disputed bet had caused the company to forget their glasses.
+
+"Just one more drink," said the young man. "Take the ten half-crowns out
+in drinks, guv'nor, that's good enough. What do you say, guv'nor?"
+
+"What, ten half-crowns?" William answered angrily. "Haven't I shown you
+that the 'orse was backed at Tattersall's the day you made the bet at
+eight to one?"
+
+"Ten to one, guv'nor."
+
+"I've not time to go on talking.... You're interfering with my business.
+You must get out of my bar."
+
+"Who'll put me out?"
+
+"Charles, go and fetch a policeman."
+
+At the word "policeman" the young man seemed to recover his wits somewhat,
+and he answered, "You'll bring in no bloody policeman. Fetch a policeman!
+and what about your blooming betting--what will become of it?" William
+looked round to see if there was any in the bar whom he could not trust.
+He knew everyone present, and believed he could trust them all. There was
+but one thing to do, and that was to put on a bold face and trust to luck.
+"Now out you go," he said, springing over the counter, "and never you set
+your face inside my bar again." Charles followed the guv'nor over the
+counter like lightning, and the drunkard was forced into the street. "He
+don't mean no 'arm," said one of the friends; "he'll come round to-morrow
+and apologise for what he's said."
+
+"I don't want his apology," said William. "No one shall call me a welsher
+in my bar.... Take your friend away, and never let me see him in my bar
+again."
+
+Suddenly William turned very pale. He was seized with a fit of coughing,
+and this great strong man leaned over the counter very weak indeed. Esther
+led him into the parlour, leaving Charles to attend to the customers. His
+hand trembled like a leaf, and she sat by his side holding it. Mr. Blamy
+came in to ask if he should lay one of the young gentlemen from the
+tutor's thirty shillings to ten against the favourite. Esther said that
+William could attend to no more customers that day. Mr. Blamy returned ten
+minutes after to say that there was quite a number of people in the bar;
+should he refuse to take their money?
+
+"Do you know them all?" said William.
+
+"I think so, guv'nor."
+
+"Be careful to bet with no one you don't know; but I'm so bad I can hardly
+speak."
+
+"Much better send them away," said Esther.
+
+"Then they'll go somewhere else."
+
+"It won't matter; they'll come back to where they're sure of their money."
+
+"I'm not so sure of that," William answered, feebly. "I think it will be
+all right, Teddy; you'll be very careful."
+
+"Yes, guv'nor, I'll keep down the price."
+
+
+
+
+XXXVI
+
+
+One afternoon Fred Parsons came into the bar of the "King's Head." He wore
+the cap and jersey of the Salvation Army; he was now Captain Parsons. The
+bars were empty. It was a time when business was slackest. The morning's
+betting was over; the crowd had dispersed, and would not collect again
+until the _Evening Standard_ had come in. William had gone for a walk.
+Esther and the potboy were alone in the house. The potman was at work in
+the backyard, Esther was sewing in the parlour. Hearing steps, she went
+into the bar. Fred looked at her abashed, he was a little perplexed. He
+said--
+
+"Is your husband in? I should like to speak to him."
+
+"No, my husband is out. I don't expect him back for an hour or so. Can I
+give him any message?"
+
+She was on the point of asking him how he was. But there was something so
+harsh and formal in his tone and manner that she refrained. But the idea
+in her mind must have expressed itself in her face, for suddenly his
+manner softened. He drew a deep breath, and passed his hand across his
+forehead. Then, putting aside the involuntary thought, he said--
+
+"Perhaps it will come through you as well as any other way. I had intended
+to speak to him, but I can explain the matter better to you.... It is
+about the betting that is being carried on here. We mean to put a stop to
+it. That's what I came to tell him. It must be put a stop to. No
+right-minded person--it cannot be allowed to go on."
+
+Esther said nothing; not a change of expression came upon her grave face.
+Fred was agitated. The words stuck in his throat, and his hands were
+restless. Esther raised her calm eyes, and looked at him. His eyes were
+pale, restless eyes.
+
+"I've come to warn you," he said, "that the law will be set in motion....
+It is very painful for me, but something must be done. The whole
+neighbourhood is devoured by it." Esther did not answer, and he said, "Why
+don't you answer, Esther?"
+
+"What is there for me to answer? You tell me that you are going to get up
+a prosecution against us. I can't prevent you. I'll tell my husband what
+you say."
+
+"This is a very serious matter, Esther." He had come into command of his
+voice, and he spoke with earnest determination. "If we get a conviction
+against you for keeping a betting-house, you will not only be heavily
+fined, but you will also lose your licence. All we ask is that the betting
+shall cease. No," he said, interrupting, "don't deny anything; it is quite
+useless, we know everything. The whole neighbourhood is demoralized by
+this betting; nothing is thought of but tips; the day's racing--that is
+all they think about--the evening papers, and the latest information. You
+do not know what harm you're doing. Every day we hear of some new
+misfortune--a home broken up, the mother in the workhouse, the daughter on
+the streets, the father in prison, and all on account of this betting. Oh,
+Esther, it is horrible; think of the harm you're doing."
+
+Fred Parsons' high, round forehead, his weak eyes, his whole face, was
+expressive of fear and hatred of the evil which a falsetto voice denounced
+with much energy.
+
+Suddenly he seemed to grow nervous and perplexed. Esther was looking at
+him, and he said, "You don't answer, Esther?"
+
+"What would you have me answer?"
+
+"You used to be a good, religious woman. Do you remember how we used to
+speak when we used to go for walks together, when you were in service in
+the Avondale road? I remember you agreeing with me that much good could be
+done by those who were determined to do it. You seem to have changed very
+much since those days."
+
+For a moment Esther seemed affected by these remembrances. Then she said
+in a low, musical voice--
+
+"No, I've not changed, Fred, but things has turned out different. One
+doesn't do the good that one would like to in the world; one has to do the
+good that comes to one to do. I've my husband and my boy to look to.
+Them's my good. At least, that's how I sees things."
+
+Fred looked at Esther, and his eyes expressed all the admiration and love
+that he felt for her character. "One owes a great deal," he said, "to
+those who are near to one, but not everything; even for their sakes one
+should not do wrong to others, and you must see that you are doing a great
+wrong to your fellow-creatures by keeping on this betting. Public-houses
+are bad enough, but when it comes to gambling as well as drink, there's
+nothing for us to do but to put the law in motion. Look you, Esther, there
+isn't a shop-boy earning eighteen shillings a week that hasn't been round
+here to put his half-crown on some horse. This house is the immoral centre
+of the neighbourhood. No one's money is refused. The boy that pawned his
+father's watch to back a horse went to the 'King's Head' to put his money
+on. His father forgave him again and again. Then the boy stole from the
+lodgers. There was an old woman of seventy-five who got nine shillings a
+week for looking after some offices; he had half-a-crown off her. Then the
+father told the magistrate that he could do nothing with him since he had
+taken to betting on horse-races. The boy is fourteen. Is it not shocking?
+It cannot be allowed to go on. We have determined to put a stop to it.
+That's what I came to tell your husband."
+
+"Are you sure," said Esther, and she bit her lips while she spoke, "that
+it is entirely for the neighbourhood that you want to get up the
+prosecution?"
+
+"You don't think there's any other reason, Esther? You surely don't think
+that I'm doing this because--because he took you away from me?"
+
+Esther didn't answer. And then Fred said, and there was pain and pathos in
+his voice, "I am sorry you think this of me; I'm not getting up the
+prosecution. I couldn't prevent the law being put in motion against you
+even if I wanted to.... I only know that it is going to be put in motion,
+so for the sake of old times I would save you from harm if I could. I came
+round to tell you if you did not put a stop to the betting you'd get into
+trouble. I have no right to do what I have done, but I'd do anything to
+save you and yours from harm."
+
+"I am sorry for what I said. It was very good of you."
+
+"We have not any proofs as yet; we know, of course, all about the betting,
+but we must have sworn testimony before the law can be set in motion, so
+you'll be quite safe if you can persuade your husband to give it up."
+Esther did not answer. "It is entirely on account of the friendship I feel
+for you that made me come to warn you of the danger. You don't bear me any
+ill-will, Esther, I hope?"
+
+"No, Fred, I don't. I think I understand." The conversation paused again.
+"I suppose we have said everything." Esther turned her face from him. Fred
+looked at her, and though her eyes were averted from him she could see
+that he loved her. In another moment he was gone. In her plain and
+ignorant way she thought on the romance of destiny. For if she had married
+Fred her life would have been quite different. She would have led the life
+that she wished to lead, but she had married William and--well, she must
+do the best she could. If Fred, or Fred's friends, got the police to
+prosecute them for betting, they would, as he said, not only have to pay a
+heavy fine, but would probably lose their licence. Then what would they
+do? William had not health to go about from race-course to race-course as
+he used to. He had lost a lot of money in the last six months; Jack was at
+school--they must think of Jack. The thought of their danger lay on her
+heart all that evening. But she had had no opportunity of speaking to
+William alone, she had to wait until they were in their room. Then, as she
+untied the strings of her petticoats, she said--
+
+"I had a visit from Fred Parsons this afternoon."
+
+"That's the fellow you were engaged to marry. Is he after you still?"
+
+"No, he came to speak to me about the betting."
+
+"About the betting--what is it to do with him?"
+
+"He says that if it isn't stopped that we shall be prosecuted."
+
+"So he came here to tell you that, did he? I wish I had been in the bar."
+
+"I'm glad you wasn't. What good could you have done? To have a row and
+make things worse!"
+
+William lit his pipe and unlaced his boots. Esther slipped on her
+night-dress and got into a large brass bedstead, without curtains. On the
+chest of drawers Esther had placed the books her mother had given her, and
+William had hung some sporting prints on the walls. He took his
+night-shirt from the pillow and put it on without removing his pipe from
+his mouth. He always finished his pipe in bed.
+
+"It is revenge," he said, pulling the bed-clothes up to his chin, "because
+I got you away from him."
+
+"I don't think it is that; I did think so at first, and I said so."
+
+"What did he say?"
+
+"He said he was sorry I thought so badly of him; that he came to warn us
+of our danger. If he had wanted to do us an injury he wouldn't have said
+nothing about it. Don't you think so?"
+
+"It seems reasonable. Then what do you think they're doing it for?"
+
+"He says that keeping a betting-house is corruption in the neighbourhood."
+
+"You think he thinks that?"
+
+"I know he do; and there is many like him. I come of them that thinks like
+that, so I know. Betting and drink is what my folk, the Brethren, holds as
+most evil."
+
+"But you've forgot all about them Brethren?"
+
+"No, one never forgets what one's brought up in."
+
+"But what do you think now?"
+
+"I've never said nothing about it. I don't believe in a wife interfering
+with her husband; and business was that bad, and your 'ealth 'asn't been
+the same since them colds you caught standing about in them betting rings,
+so I don't see how you could help it. But now that business is beginning
+to come back to us, it might be as well to give up the betting."
+
+"It is the betting that brings the business; we shouldn't take five pounds
+a week was it not for the betting. What's the difference between betting
+on the course and betting in the bar? No one says nothing against it on
+the course; the police is there, and they goes after the welshers and
+persecutes them. Then the betting that's done at Tattersall's and the
+Albert Club, what is the difference? The Stock Exchange, too, where
+thousands and thousands is betted every day. It is the old story--one law
+for the rich and another for the poor. Why shouldn't the poor man 'ave his
+'alf-crown's worth of excitement? The rich man can have his thousand
+pounds' worth whenever he pleases. The same with the public
+'ouses--there's a lot of hypocritical folk that is for docking the poor
+man of his beer, but there's no one that's for interfering with them that
+drink champagne in the clubs. It's all bloody rot, and it makes me sick
+when I think of it. Them hypocritical folk. Betting! Isn't everything
+betting? How can they put down betting? Hasn't it been going on since the
+world began? Rot, says I! They can just ruin a poor devil like me, and
+that's about all. We are ruined, and the rich goes scot-free.
+Hypocritical, mealy-mouthed lot. 'Let's say our prayers and sand
+the sugar'; that's about it. I hate them that is always prating out
+religion. When I hears too much religion going about I says now's the time
+to look into their accounts."
+
+William leaned out of bed to light his pipe from the candle on the
+night-table.
+
+"There's good people in the world, people that never thinks but of doing
+good, and do not live for pleasure."
+
+"'All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy,' Esther. Their only pleasure
+is a bet. When they've one on they've something to look forward to;
+whether they win or lose they 'as their money's worth. You know what I say
+is true; you've seen them, how they look forward to the evening paper to
+see how the 'oss is going on in betting. Man can't live without hope. It
+is their only hope, and I says no one has a right to take it from them."
+
+"What about their poor wives? Very little good their betting is to them.
+It's all very well to talk like that, William, but you know, and you can't
+say you don't, that a great deal of mischief comes of betting; you know
+that once they think of it and nothing else, they neglect their work.
+There's Stack, he's lost his place as porter; there's Journeyman, too,
+he's out of work."
+
+"And a good thing for them; they've done a great deal better since they
+chucked it."
+
+"For the time, maybe; but who says it will go on? Look at old John; he's
+going about in rags; and his poor wife, she was in here the other night, a
+terrible life she's 'ad of it. You says that no 'arm comes of it. What
+about that boy that was 'ad up the other day, and said that it was all
+through betting? He began by pawning his father's watch. It was here that
+he made the first bet. You won't tell me that it is right to bet with bits
+of boys like that."
+
+"The horse he backed with me won."
+
+"So much the worse.... The boy'll never do another honest day's work as
+long as he lives.... When they win, they 'as a drink for luck; when they
+loses, they 'as a drink to cheer them up."
+
+"I'm afraid, Esther, you ought to have married the other chap. He'd have
+given you the life that you'd have been happy in. This public-'ouse ain't
+suited to you."
+
+Esther turned round and her eyes met her husband's. There was a strange
+remoteness in his look, and they seemed very far from each other.
+
+"I was brought up to think so differently," she said, her thoughts going
+back to her early years in the little southern seaside home. "I suppose
+this betting and drinking will always seem to me sinful and wicked. I
+should 'ave liked quite a different kind of life, but we don't choose our
+lives, we just makes the best of them. You was the father of my child, and
+it all dates from that."
+
+"I suppose it do."
+
+William lay on his back, and blew the smoke swiftly from his mouth.
+
+"If you smoke much more we shan't be able to breathe in this room."
+
+"I won't smoke no more. Shall I blow the candle out?"
+
+"Yes, if you like."
+
+When the room was in darkness, just before they settled their faces on the
+pillow for sleep, William said--
+
+"It was good of that fellow to come and warn us. I must be very careful
+for the future with whom I bet."
+
+
+
+
+XXXVII
+
+
+On Sunday, as soon as dinner was over, Esther had intended to go to East
+Dulwich to see Mrs. Lewis. But as she closed the door behind her, she saw
+Sarah coming up the street.
+
+"Ah, I see you're going out."
+
+"It don't matter; won't you come in, if it's only for a minute?"
+
+"No, thank you, I won't keep you. But which way are you going? We might go
+a little way together."
+
+They walked down Waterloo Place and along Pall Mall. In Trafalgar Square
+there was a demonstration, and Sarah lingered in the crowd so long that
+when they arrived at Charing Cross, Esther found that she could not get to
+Ludgate Hill in time to catch her train, so they went into the Embankment
+Gardens. It had been raining, and the women wiped the seats with their
+handkerchiefs before sitting down. There was no fashion to interest them,
+and the band sounded foolish in the void of the grey London Sunday.
+Sarah's chatter was equally irrelevant, and Esther wondered how Sarah
+could talk so much about nothing, and regretted her visit to East Dulwich
+more and more. Suddenly Bill's name came into the conversation.
+
+"But I thought you didn't see him any more; you promised us you wouldn't."
+
+"I couldn't help it.... It was quite an accident. One day, coming back
+from church with Annie--that's the new housemaid--he came up and spoke to
+us."
+
+"What did he say?"
+
+"He said, 'How are ye?... Who'd thought of meeting you!'"
+
+"And what did you say?"
+
+"I said I didn't want to have nothing to do with him. Annie walked on, and
+then he said he was very sorry, that it was bad luck that drove him to
+it."
+
+"And you believed him?"
+
+"I daresay it is very foolish of me. But one can't help oneself. Did you
+ever really care for a man?"
+
+And without waiting for an answer, Sarah continued her babbling chatter.
+She had asked him not to come after her; she thought he was sorry for what
+he had done. She mentioned incidentally that he had been away in the
+country and had come back with very particular information regarding a
+certain horse for the Cesarewitch. If the horse won he'd be all right.
+
+At last Esther's patience was tired out.
+
+"It must be getting late," she said, looking towards where the sun was
+setting. The river rippled, and the edges of the warehouses had
+perceptibly softened; a wind, too, had come up with the tide, and the
+women shivered as they passed under the arch of Waterloo Bridge. They
+ascended a flight of high steps and walked through a passage into the
+Strand.
+
+"I was miserable enough with him; we used to have hardly anything to eat;
+but I'm more miserable away from him. Esther, I know you'll laugh at me,
+but I'm that heart-broken... I can't live without him... I'd do anything
+for him."
+
+"He isn't worth it."
+
+"That don't make no difference. You don't know what love is; a woman who
+hasn't loved a man who don't love her, don't. We used to live near here.
+Do you mind coming up Drury Lane? I should like to show you the house."
+
+"I'm afraid it will be out of our way."
+
+"No, it won't. Round by the church and up Newcastle Street.... Look,
+there's a shop we used to go to sometimes. I've eaten many a good sausage
+and onions in there, and that's a pub where we often used to go for a
+drink."
+
+The courts and alleys had vomited their population into the Lane. Fat
+girls clad in shawls sat around the slum opening nursing their babies. Old
+women crouched in decrepit doorways, fumbling their aprons; skipping ropes
+whirled in the roadway. A little higher up a vendor of cheap ices had set
+up his store and was rapidly absorbing all the pennies of the
+neighborhood. Esther and Sarah turned into a dilapidated court, where a
+hag argued the price of trotters with a family leaning one over the other
+out of a second-floor window. This was the block in which Sarah had lived.
+A space had been cleared by the builder, and the other side was shut in by
+the great wall of the old theatre.
+
+"That's where we used to live," said Sarah, pointing up to the third
+floor. "I fancy our house will soon come down. When I see the old place it
+all comes back to me. I remember pawning a dress over the way in the lane;
+they would only lend me a shilling on it. And you see that shop--the
+shutters is up, it being Sunday; it is a sort of butcher's, cheap meat,
+livers and lights, trotters, and such-like. I bought a bullock's heart
+there, and stewed it down with some potatoes; we did enjoy it, I can tell
+you."
+
+Sarah talked so eagerly of herself that Esther had not the heart to
+interrupt her. They made their way out into Catherine Street, and then to
+Endell Street, and then going round to St. Giles' Church, they plunged
+into the labyrinth of Soho.
+
+"I'm afraid I'm tiring you. I don't see what interest all this can be to
+you."
+
+"We've known each other a long time."
+
+Sarah looked at her, and then, unable to resist the temptation, she
+continued her narrative--Bill had said this, she had said that. She
+rattled on, until they came to the corner of Old Compton Street. Esther,
+who was a little tired of her, held out her hand. "I suppose you must be
+getting back; would you like a drop of something?"
+
+"It is going on for seven o'clock; but since you're that kind I think I'd
+like a glass of beer."
+
+"Do you listen much to the betting talk here of an evening?" Sarah asked,
+as she was leaving.
+
+"I don't pay much attention, but I can't help hearing a good deal."
+
+"Do they talk much about Ben Jonson for the Cesarewitch?"
+
+"They do, indeed; he's all the go."
+
+Sarah's face brightened perceptibly, and Esther said--
+
+"Have you backed him?'
+
+"Only a trifle; half-a-crown that a friend put me on. Do they say he'll
+win?"
+
+"They say that if he don't break down he'll win by 'alf a mile; it all
+depends on his leg."
+
+"Is he coming on in the betting?"
+
+"Yes, I believe they're now taking 12 to 1 about him. But I'll ask
+William, if you like."
+
+"No, no, I only wanted to know if you'd heard anything new."
+
+
+
+
+XXXVIII
+
+
+During the next fortnight Sarah came several times to the "King's Head."
+She came in about nine in the evening, and stayed for half-an-hour or
+more. The ostensible object of her visit was to see Esther, but she
+declined to come into the private bar, where they would have chatted
+comfortably, and remained in the public bar listening to the men's
+conversation, listening and nodding while old John explained the horse's
+staying power to her. On the following evening all her interest was in
+Ketley. She wanted to know if anything had happened that might be
+considered as an omen. She said she had dreamed about the race, but her
+dream was only a lot of foolish rubbish without head or tail. Ketley
+argued earnestly against this view of a serious subject, and in the hope
+of convincing her of her error offered to walk as far as Oxford Street
+with her and put her into her 'bus. But on the following evening all her
+interest was centered in Mr. Journeyman, who declared that he could prove
+that according to the weight it seemed to him to look more and more like a
+certainty. He had let the horse in at six stone ten pounds, the official
+handicapper had only given him six stone seven pounds.
+
+"They is a-sending of him along this week, and if the leg don't go it is a
+hundred pound to a brass farthing on the old horse."
+
+"How many times will they gallop him?" Sarah asked.
+
+"He goes a mile and a 'arf every day now.... The day after to-morrow
+they'll try him, just to see that he hasn't lost his turn of speed, and if
+he don't break down in the trial you can take it from me that it will be
+all right."
+
+"When will you know the result of the trial?"
+
+"I expect a letter on Friday morning," said Stack. "If you come in in the
+evening I'll let you know about it."
+
+"Thank you very much, Mr. Stack. I must be getting home now."
+
+"I'm going your way, Miss Tucker.... If you like, we'll go together, and
+I'll tell you," he whispered, "all about the 'orse."
+
+When they had left the bar the conversation turned on racing as an
+occupation for women.
+
+"Fancy my wife making a book on the course. I bet she'd overlay it and
+then turn round and back the favourite at a shorter price than she'd been
+laying."
+
+"I don't know that we should be any foolisher than you," said Esther;
+"don't you never go and overlay your book? What about Syntax and the 'orse
+you told me about last week?"
+
+William had been heavily hit last week through overlaying his book against
+a horse he didn't believe in, and the whole bar joined in the laugh
+against him.
+
+"I don't say nothing about bookmaking," said Journeyman; "but there's a
+great many women nowadays who is mighty sharp at spotting a 'orse that the
+handicapper had let in pretty easy."
+
+"This one," said Ketley, jerking his thumb in the direction that Stack and
+Sarah had gone, "seems to 'ave got hold of something."
+
+"We must ask Stack when he comes back," and Journeyman winked at William.
+
+"Women do get that excited over trifles," old John remarked,
+sarcastically. "She ain't got above 'alf-a-crown on the 'orse, if that.
+She don't care about the 'orse or the race--no woman ever did; it's all
+about some sweetheart that's been piling it on."
+
+"I wonder if you're right," said Esther, reflectively. "I never knew her
+before to take such an interest in a horse-race."
+
+On the day of the race Sarah came into the private bar about three
+o'clock. The news was not yet in.
+
+"Wouldn't you like to step into the parlour; you'll be more comfortable?"
+said Esther.
+
+"No thank you, dear; it is not worth while. I thought I'd like to know
+which won, that's all."
+
+"Have you much on?"
+
+"No, five shillings altogether.... But a friend of mine stands to win a
+good bit. I see you've got a new dress, dear. When did you get it?"
+
+"I've had the stuff by me some time. I only had it made up last month. Do
+you like it?"
+
+Sarah answered that she thought it very pretty. But Esther could see that
+she was thinking of something quite different.
+
+"The race is over now. It's run at half-past two."
+
+"Yes, but they're never quite punctual; there may be a delay at the post."
+
+"I see you know all about it."
+
+"One never hears of anything else."
+
+Esther asked Sarah when her people came back to town, and was surprised at
+the change of expression that the question brought to her friend's face.
+
+"They're expected back to-morrow," she said. "Why do you ask?"
+
+"Oh, nothing; something to say, that's all."
+
+The conversation paused, and the two women looked at each other. At that
+moment a voice coming rapidly towards them was heard calling, "Win-ner,
+win-ner!"
+
+"I'll send out for the paper," said Esther.
+
+"No, no... Suppose he shouldn't have won?"
+
+"Well, it won't make any difference."
+
+"Oh, Esther, no; some one will come in and tell us. The race can't be over
+yet; it is a long race, and takes some time to run."
+
+By this time the boy was far away, and fainter and fainter the terrible
+word, "Win-ner, win-ner, win-ner."
+
+"It's too late now," said Sarah; "some one'll come in presently and tell
+us about it.... I daresay it ain't the paper at all. Them boys cries out
+anything that will sell."
+
+"Win-ner, win-ner." The voice was coming towards them.
+
+"If he has won, Bill and I is to marry.... Somehow I feel as if he
+hasn't."
+
+"Win-ner."
+
+"We shall soon know." Esther took a halfpenny from the till.
+
+"Don't you think we'd better wait? It can't be printed in the papers, not
+the true account, and if it was wrong--" Esther didn't answer; she gave
+Charles the halfpenny; he went out, and in a few minutes came back with
+the paper in his hand. "Tornado first, Ben Jonson second, Woodcraft
+third," he read out. "That's a good thing for the guv'nor. There was very
+few what backed Tornado.... He's only lost some place-money."
+
+"So he was only second," said Sarah, turning deadly pale. "They said he
+was certain to win."
+
+"I hope you've not lost much," said Esther. "It wasn't with William that
+you backed him."
+
+"No, it wasn't with William. I only had a few shillings on. It don't
+matter. Let me have a drink."
+
+"What will you have?"
+
+"Some whisky."
+
+Sarah drank it neat. Esther looked at her doubtfully.
+
+The bars would be empty for the next two hours; Esther wished to utilize
+this time; she had some shopping to do, and asked Sarah to come with her.
+But Sarah complained of being tired, and said she would see her when she
+came back.
+
+Esther went out a little perplexed. She was detained longer than she
+expected, and when she returned Sarah was staggering about in the
+bar-room, asking Charles for one more drink.
+
+"All bloody rot; who says I'm drunk? I ain't... look at me. The 'orse did
+not win, did he? I say he did; papers all so much bloody rot."
+
+"Oh, Sarah, what is this?"
+
+"Who's this? Leave go, I say."
+
+"Mr. Stack, won't you ask her to come upstairs?... Don't encourage her."
+
+"Upstairs? I'm a free woman. I don't want to go upstairs. I'm a free
+woman; tell me," she said, balancing herself with difficulty and staring
+at Esther with dull, fishy eyes, "tell me if I'm not a free woman? What do
+I want upstairs for?"
+
+"Oh, Sarah, come upstairs and lie down. Don't go out."
+
+"I'm going home. Hands off, hands off!" she said, slapping Esther's hands
+from her arm.
+
+"'For every one was drunk last night,
+And drunk the night before;
+And if we don't get drunk to-night,
+We don't get drunk no more.
+
+(Chorus.)
+
+"'Now you will have a drink with me,
+And I will drink with you;
+For we're the very rowdiest lot
+Of the rowdy Irish crew.'
+
+"That's what we used to sing in the Lane, yer know; should 'ave seen the
+coster gals with their feathers, dancing and clinking their pewters.
+Rippin Day, Bank 'oliday, Epping, under the trees--'ow they did romp,
+them gals!
+
+"'We all was roaring drunk last night,
+And drunk the night before;
+And if we don't get drunk to-night,
+We won't get drunk no more.'
+
+"Girls and boys, you know, all together."
+
+"Sarah, listen to me."
+
+"Listen! Come and have a drink, old gal, just another drink." She
+staggered up to the counter. "One more, just for luck; do yer 'ear?"
+Before Charles could stop her she had seized the whisky that had just been
+served. "That's my whisky," exclaimed Journeyman. He made a rapid
+movement, but was too late. Sarah had drained the glass and stood vacantly
+looking into space. Journeyman seemed so disconcerted at the loss of his
+whisky that every one laughed.
+
+A few moments after Sarah staggered forward and fell insensible into his
+arms. He and Esther carried her upstairs and laid her on the bed in the
+spare room.
+
+"She'll be precious bad to-morrow," said Journeyman.
+
+"I don't know how you could have gone on helping her," Esther said to
+Charles when she got inside the bar; and she seemed so pained that out of
+deference to her feelings the subject was dropped out of the conversation.
+Esther felt that something shocking had happened. Sarah had deliberately
+got drunk. She would not have done that unless she had some great trouble
+on her mind. William, too, was of this opinion. Something serious must
+have happened. As they went up to their room Esther said--
+
+"It is all the fault of this betting. The neighbourhood is completely
+ruined. They're losing their 'omes and their furniture, and you'll bear
+the blame of it."
+
+"It do make me so wild to hear you talkin' that way, Esther. People will
+bet, you can't stop them. I lays fair prices, and they're sure of their
+money. Yet you says they're losin' their furniture, and that I shall have
+to bear the blame."
+
+When they got to the top of the stairs she said--
+
+"I must go and see how Sarah is."
+
+"Where am I? What's happened?... Take that candle out of my eyes.... Oh,
+my head is that painful." She fell back on the pillow, and Esther thought
+she had gone to sleep again. But she opened her eyes. "Where am I?
+...That's you, Esther?"
+
+"Yes. Can't you remember?"
+
+"No, I can't. I remember that the 'orse didn't win, but don't remember
+nothing after.... I got drunk, didn't I? It feels like it."
+
+"The 'orse didn't win, and then you took too much. It's very foolish of
+you to give way."
+
+"Give way! Drunk, what matter? I'm done for."
+
+"Did you lose much?"
+
+"It wasn't what I lost, it was what I took. I gave Bill the plate to
+pledge; it's all gone, and master and missis coming back tomorrow. Don't
+talk about it. I got drunk so that I shouldn't think of it."
+
+"Oh, Sarah, I didn't think it was as bad as that. You must tell me all
+about it."
+
+"I don't want to think about it. They'll come soon enough to take me away.
+Besides, I cannot remember nothing now. My mouth's that awful--Give me a
+drink. Never mind the glass, give me the water-bottle."
+
+She drank ravenously, and seemed to recover a little. Esther pressed her
+to tell her about the pledged plate. "You know that I'm your friend. You'd
+better tell me. I want to help you out of this scrape."
+
+"No one can help me now, I'm done for. Let them come and take me. I'll go
+with them. I shan't say nothing."
+
+"How much is it in for? Don't cry like that," Esther said, and she took
+out her handkerchief and wiped Sarah's eyes. "How much is it in for?
+Perhaps I can get my husband to lend me the money to get it out."
+
+"It's no use trying to help me.... Esther, I can't talk about it now; I
+shall go mad if I do."
+
+"Tell me how much you got on it."
+
+"Thirty pounds."
+
+It took a long time to undress her. Every now and then she made an effort,
+and another article of clothing was got off. When Esther returned to her
+room William was asleep, and Esther took him by the shoulder.
+
+"It is more serious than I thought," she shouted. "I want to tell you
+about it."
+
+"What about it?" he said, opening his eyes.
+
+"She has pledged the plate for thirty pounds to back that 'orse."
+
+"What 'orse?"
+
+"Ben Jonson."
+
+"He broke down at the bushes. If he hadn't I should have been broke up.
+The whole neighbourhood was on him. So she pledged the plate to back him.
+She didn't do that to back him herself. Some one must have put her up to
+it."
+
+"Yes, it was Bill Evans."
+
+"Ah, that blackguard put her up to it. I thought she'd left him for good.
+She promised us that she'd never speak to him again."
+
+"You see, she was that fond of him that she couldn't help herself. There's
+many that can't."
+
+"How much did they get on the plate?"
+
+"Thirty pounds."
+
+William blew a long whistle. Then, starting up in the bed, he said, "She
+can't stop here. If it comes out that it was through betting, it won't do
+this house any good. We're already suspected. There's that old sweetheart
+of yours, the Salvation cove, on the lookout for evidence of betting being
+carried on."
+
+"She'll go away in the morning. But I thought that you might lend her the
+money to get the plate out."
+
+"What! thirty pounds?"
+
+"It's a deal of money, I know; but I thought that you might be able to
+manage it. You've been lucky over this race."
+
+"Yes, but think of all I've lost this summer. This is the first bit of
+luck I've had for a long while."
+
+"I thought you might be able to manage it."
+
+Esther stood by the bedside, her knee leaned against the edge. She seemed
+to him at that moment as the best woman in the world, and he said--
+
+"Thirty pounds is no more to me than two-pence-halfpenny if you wish it,
+Esther."
+
+"I haven't been an extravagant wife, have I?" she said, getting into bed
+and taking him in her arms. "I never asked you for money before. She's my
+friend--she's yours too--we've known her all our lives. We can't see her
+go to prison, can we, Bill, without raising a finger to save her?"
+
+She had never called him Bill before, and the familiar abbreviation
+touched him, and he said--
+
+"I owe everything to you, Esther; everything that's mine is yours. But,"
+he said, drawing away so that he might see her better, "what do you say if
+I ask something of you?"
+
+"What are you going to ask me?"
+
+"I want you to say that you won't bother me no more about the betting. You
+was brought up to think it wicked. I know all that, but you see we can't
+do without it."
+
+"Do you think not?"
+
+"Don't the thirty pounds you're asking for Sarah come out of betting?"
+
+"I suppose it do."
+
+"Most certainly it do."
+
+"I can't help feeling, Bill, that we shan't always be so lucky as we have
+been."
+
+"You mean that you think that one of these days we shall have the police
+down upon us?"
+
+"Don't you sometimes think that we can't always go on without being
+caught? Every day I hear of the police being down on some betting club or
+other."
+
+"They've been down on a great number lately, but what can I do? We always
+come back to that. I haven't the health to work round from race-course to
+race-course as I used to. But I've got an idea, Esther. I've been thinking
+over things a great deal lately, and--give me my pipe--there, it's just by
+you. Now, hold the candle, like a good girl."
+
+William pulled at his pipe until it was fully lighted. He threw himself on
+his back, and then he said--
+
+"I've been thinking things over. The betting 'as brought us a nice bit of
+trade here. If we can work up the business a bit more we might, let's say
+in a year from now, be able to get as much for the 'ouse as we gave....
+What do you think of buying a business in the country, a 'ouse doing a
+steady trade? I've had enough of London, the climate don't suit me as it
+used to. I fancy I should be much better in the country, somewhere on the
+South Coast. Bournemouth way, what do you think?"
+
+Before Esther could reply William was taken with a fit of coughing, and
+his great broad frame was shaken as if it were so much paper.
+
+"I'm sure," said Esther, when he had recovered himself a little, "that a
+good deal of your trouble comes from that pipe. It's never out of your
+mouth.... I feel like choking myself."
+
+"I daresay I smoke too much.... I'm not the man I was. I can feel it plain
+enough. Put my pipe down and blow out the candle.... I didn't ask you how
+Sarah was."
+
+"Very bad. She was half dazed and didn't tell me much."
+
+"She didn't tell you where she had pledged the plate?"
+
+"No, I will ask her about that to-morrow morning." Leaning forward she
+blew out the candle. The wick smouldered red for a moment, and they fell
+asleep happy in each other's love, seeming to find new bonds of union in
+pity for their friend's misfortune.
+
+
+
+
+XXXIX
+
+
+"Sarah, you must make an effort and try to dress yourself."
+
+"Oh, I do feel that bad, I wish I was dead!"
+
+"You must not give way like that; let me help you put on your stockings."
+
+Sarah looked at Esther. "You're very good to me, but I can manage." When
+she had drawn on her stockings her strength was exhausted, and she fell
+back on the pillow.
+
+Esther waited a few minutes. "Here're your petticoats. Just tie them round
+you; I'll lend you a dressing-gown and a pair of slippers."
+
+William was having breakfast in the parlour. "Well, feeling a bit poorly?"
+he said to Sarah. "What'll you have? There's a nice bit of fried fish. Not
+feeling up to it?"
+
+"Oh, no! I couldn't touch anything." She let herself drop on the sofa.
+
+"A cup of tea'll do you good," said Esther. "You must have a cup of tea,
+and a bit of toast just to nibble. William, pour her out a cup of tea."
+
+When she had drunk the tea she said she felt a little better.
+
+"Now," said William, "let's 'ear all about it. Esther has told you, no
+doubt, that we intend to do all we can to help you."
+
+"You can't help me.... I'm done for," she replied dolefully.
+
+"I don't know about that," said William. "You gave that brute Bill Evans
+the plate to pawn, so far as I know."
+
+"There isn't much more to tell. He said the horse was sure to win. He was
+at thirty to one at that time. A thousand to thirty. Bill said with that
+money we could buy a public-house in the country. He wanted to settle
+down, he wanted to get out of--I don't want to say nothing against him. He
+said if I would only give him this chance of leading a respectable life,
+we was to be married immediately after."
+
+"He told you all that, did he? He said he'd give you a 'ome of your own, I
+know. A regular rotter; that man is about as bad as they make 'em. And you
+believed it all?"
+
+"It wasn't so much what I believed as what I couldn't help myself. He had
+got that influence over me that my will wasn't my own. I don't know how it
+is--I suppose men have stronger natures than women. I 'ardly knew what I
+was doing; it was like sleep-walking. He looked at me and said, 'You'd
+better do it.' I did it, and I suppose I'll have to go to prison for it.
+What I says is just the truth, but no one believes tales like that. How
+long do you think they'll give me?"
+
+"I hope we shall be able to get you out of this scrape. You got thirty
+pounds on the plate. Esther has told you that I'm ready to lend you the
+money to get it out."
+
+"Will you do this? You're good friends indeed.... But I shall never be
+able to pay you back such a lot of money."
+
+"We won't say nothing about paying back; all we want you to do is to say
+that you'll never see that fellow again."
+
+A change of expression came over Sarah's face, and William said, "You're
+surely not still hankering after him?"
+
+"No, indeed I'm not. But whenever I meets him he somehow gets his way with
+me. It's terrible to love a man as I love him. I know he don't really care
+for me--I know he is all you say, and yet I can't help myself. It is
+better to be honest with you."
+
+William looked puzzled. At the end of a long silence he said, "If it's
+like that I don't see that we can do anything."
+
+"Have patience, William. Sarah don't know what she's saying. She'll
+promise not to see him again."
+
+"You're very kind to me. I know I'm very foolish. I promised before not to
+see him, and I couldn't keep my promise."
+
+"You can stop with us until you get a situation in the country," said
+Esther, "where you'll be out of his way."
+
+"I might do that."
+
+"I don't like to part with my money," said William, "if it is to do no one
+any good." Esther looked at him, and he added, "It is just as Esther
+wishes, of course; I'm not giving you the money, it is she."
+
+"It is both of us," said Esther; "you'll do what I said, Sarah?"
+
+"Oh, yes, anything you say, Esther," and she flung herself into her
+friend's arms and wept bitterly.
+
+"Now we want to know where you pawned the plate," said William.
+
+"A long way from here. Bill said he knew a place where it would be quite
+safe. I was to say that my mistress left it to me; he said that would be
+sufficient.... It was in the Mile End Road."
+
+"You'd know the shop again?" said William.
+
+"But she's got the ticket," said Esther.
+
+"No, I ain't got the ticket; Bill has it."
+
+"Then I'm afraid the game's up."
+
+"Do be quiet," said Esther, angrily. "If you want to get out of lending
+the money say so and have done with it."
+
+"That's not true, Esther. If you want another thirty to pay him to give up
+the ticket, you can have it."
+
+Esther thanked her husband with one quick look. "I'm sorry," she said, "my
+temper is that hasty. But you know where he lives," she said, turning to
+the wretched woman who sat on the sofa pale and trembling.
+
+"Yes, I know where he lives--13 Milward Square, Mile End Road."
+
+"Then we've no time to lose; we must go after him at once."
+
+"No, William dear; you must not; you'd only lose your temper, and he might
+do you an injury."
+
+"An injury! I'd soon show him which was the best man of the two."
+
+"I'll not hear of it, Sarah. He mustn't go with you."
+
+"Come, Esther, don't be foolish. Let me go."
+
+He had taken his hat from the peg. Esther got between him and the door.
+
+"I forbid it," she said; "I will not let you go--perhaps to have a fight,
+and with that cough."
+
+William was coughing. He had turned pale, and he said, leaning against the
+table, "Give me something to drink, a little milk."
+
+Esther poured some into a cup. He sipped it slowly. "I'll go upstairs,"
+she said, "for my hat and jacket. You've got your betting to attend to."
+William smiled. "Sarah, mind, he's not to go with you."
+
+"You forget what you said last night about the betting."
+
+"Never mind what I said last night about the betting; what I say now is
+that you're not to leave the bar. Come upstairs, Sarah, and dress
+yourself, and let's be off."
+
+Stack and Journeyman were waiting to speak to him. They had lost heavily
+over old Ben and didn't know how they'd pull through; and the whole
+neighbourhood was in the same plight; the bar was filled with gloomy
+faces.
+
+And as William scanned their disconcerted faces--clerks, hair-dressers,
+waiters from the innumerable eating houses--he could not help thinking
+that perhaps more than one of them had taken money that did not belong to
+them to back Ben Jonson. The unexpected disaster had upset all their
+plans, and even the wary ones who had a little reserve fund could not help
+backing outsiders, hoping by the longer odds to retrieve yesterday's
+losses. At two the bar was empty, and William waited for Esther and Sarah
+to return from Mile End. It seemed to him that they were a long time away.
+But Mile End is not close to Soho; and when they returned, between four
+and five, he saw at once that they had been unsuccessful. He lifted up the
+flap in the counter and all three went into the parlour.
+
+"He left Milward Square yesterday," Esther said. "Then we went to another
+address, and then to another; we went to all the places Sarah had been to
+with him, but no tidings anywhere."
+
+Sarah burst into tears. "There's no more hope," she said. "I'm done for;
+they'll come and take me away. How much do you think I'll get? They won't
+give me ten years, will they?"
+
+"I can see nothing else for you to do," said Esther, "but to go straight
+back to your people and tell them the whole story, and throw yourself on
+their mercy."
+
+"Do you mean that she should say that she pawned the plate to get money to
+back a horse?"
+
+"Of course I do."
+
+"It will make the police more keen than ever on the betting houses."
+
+"That can't be helped."
+
+"She'd better not be took here," said William; "it will do a great deal of
+harm.... It don't make no difference to her where she's took, do it?"
+
+Esther did not answer.
+
+"I'll go away. I don't want to get no one into trouble," Sarah said, and
+she got up from the sofa.
+
+At that moment Charles opened the door, and said, "You're wanted in the
+bar, sir."
+
+William went out quickly. He returned a moment after. There was a scared
+look on his face. "They're here," he said. He was followed by two
+policemen. Sarah uttered a little cry.
+
+"Your name is Sarah Tucker?" said the first policeman.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"You're charged with robbery by Mr. Sheldon, 34, Cumberland Place."
+
+"Shall I be taken through the streets?"
+
+"If you like to pay for it, you can go in a cab," the police-officer
+replied.
+
+"I'll go with you, dear," Esther said. William plucked her by the sleeve.
+"It will do no good. Why should you go?"
+
+
+
+
+XL
+
+
+The magistrate of course sent the case for trial, and the thirty pounds
+which William had promised to give to Esther went to pay for the defence.
+There seemed at first some hope that the prosecution would not be able to
+prove its case, but fresh evidence connecting Sarah with the abstraction
+of the plate was forthcoming, and in the end it was thought advisable that
+the plea of not guilty should be withdrawn. The efforts of counsel were
+therefore directed towards a mitigation of sentence. Counsel called Esther
+and William for the purpose of proving the excellent character that the
+prisoner had hitherto borne; counsel spoke of the evil influence into
+which the prisoner had fallen, and urged that she had no intention of
+actually stealing the plate. Tempted by promises, she had been persuaded
+to pledge the plate in order to back a horse which she had been told was
+certain to win. If that horse had won, the plate would have been redeemed
+and returned to its proper place in the owner's house, and the prisoner
+would have been able to marry. Possibly the marriage on which the prisoner
+had set her heart would have turned out more unfortunate for the prisoner
+than the present proceedings. Counsel had not words strong enough to
+stigmatise the character of a man who, having induced a girl to imperil
+her liberty for his own vile ends, was cowardly enough to abandon her in
+the hour of her deepest distress. Counsel drew attention to the trusting
+nature of the prisoner, who had not only pledged her employer's plate at
+his base instigation, but had likewise been foolish enough to confide the
+pawn-ticket to his keeping. Such was the prisoner's story, and he
+submitted that it bore on the face of it the stamp of truth. A very sad
+story, but one full of simple, foolish, trusting humanity, and, having
+regard to the excellent character the prisoner had borne, counsel hoped
+that his lordship would see his way to dealing leniently with her.
+
+His Lordship, whose gallantries had been prolonged over half a century,
+and whose betting transactions were matters of public comment, pursed up
+his ancient lips and fixed his dead glassy eyes on the prisoner. He said
+he regretted that he could not take the same view of the prisoner's
+character as learned counsel had done. The police had made every effort to
+apprehend the man Evans who, according to the prisoner's story, was the
+principal culprit. But the efforts of the police had been unavailing; they
+had, however, found traces of the man Evans, who undoubtedly did exist,
+and need not be considered to be a near relative of our friend Mrs.
+Harris. And the little joke provoked some amusement in the court; learned
+counsel settled their robes becomingly and leant forward to listen. They
+were in for a humorous speech, and the prisoner would get off with a light
+sentence. But the grim smile waxed duller, and it was clear that lordship
+was determined to make the law a terror to evil-doers. Lordship drew
+attention to the fact that during the course of their investigations the
+police had discovered that the prisoner had been living for some
+considerable time with the man Evans, during which time several robberies
+had been effected. There was no evidence, it was true, to connect the
+prisoner with these robberies. The prisoner had left the man Evans and had
+obtained a situation in the house of her present employers. When the
+characters she had received from her former employers were being examined
+she had accounted for the year she had spent with the man Evans by saying
+that she had been staying with the Latches, the publicans who had given
+evidence in her favour. It had also come to the knowledge of the police
+that the man Evans used to frequent the "King's Head," that was the house
+owned by the Latches; it was probable that she had made there the
+acquaintance of the man Evans. The prisoner had referred her employers to
+the Latches, who had lent their sanction to the falsehood regarding the
+year she was supposed to have spent with them, but which she had really
+spent in cohabitation with a notorious thief. Here lordship indulged in
+severe remarks against those who enabled not wholly irreproachable
+characters to obtain situations by false pretences, a very common habit,
+and one attended with great danger to society, one which society would do
+well to take precautions to defend itself against.
+
+The plate, his Lordship remarked, was said to have been pawned, but there
+was nothing to show that it had been pawned, the prisoner's explanation
+being that she had given the pawn-ticket to the man Evans. She could not
+tell where she had pawned the plate, her tale being that she and the man
+Evans had gone down to Whitechapel together and pawned it in the Mile End
+Road. But she did not know the number of the pawnbroker's, nor could she
+give any indications as to its whereabouts--beyond the mere fact that it
+was in the Mile End Road she could say nothing. All the pawnbrokers in the
+Mile End Road had been searched, but no plate answering to the description
+furnished by the prosecution could be found.
+
+Learned counsel had endeavoured to show that it had been in a measure
+unpremeditated, that it was the result of a passing but irresistible
+temptation. Learned counsel had endeavoured to introduce some element of
+romance into the case; he had described the theft as the outcome of the
+prisoner's desire of marriage, but lordship could not find such purity of
+motive in the prisoner's crime. There was nothing to show that there was
+any thought of marriage in the prisoner's mind; the crime was the result,
+not of any desire of marriage, but rather the result of vicious passion,
+concubinage. Regarding the plea that the crime was unpremeditated, it was
+only necessary to point out that it had been committed for a distinct
+purpose and had been carried out in conjunction with an accomplished
+thief.
+
+"There is now only one more point which I wish to refer to, and that is
+the plea that the prisoner did not intend to steal the plate, but only to
+obtain money upon it to enable her and the partner in her guilt to back a
+horse for a race which they believed to be--" his Lordship was about to
+say a certainty for him; he stopped himself, however, in time--"to be, to
+be, which they believed him to be capable of winning. The race in question
+is, I think, called the Cesarewitch, and the name of the horse (lordship
+had lost three hundred on Ben Jonson), if my memory serves me right (here
+lordship fumbled amid papers), yes, the name is, as I thought, Ben Jonson.
+Now, the learned counsel for the defence suggested that, if the horse had
+won, the plate would have been redeemed and restored to its proper place
+in the pantry cupboards. This, I venture to point out, is a mere
+hypothesis. The money might have been again used for the purpose of
+gambling. I confess that I do not see why we should condone the prisoner's
+offence because it was committed for the sake of obtaining money for
+gambling purposes. Indeed, it seems to me a reason for dealing heavily
+with the offence. The vice among the poorer classes is largely on the
+increase, and it seems to me that it is the duty of all in authority to
+condemn rather than to condone the evil, and to use every effort to stamp
+it out. For my part I fail to perceive any romantic element in the vice of
+gambling. It springs from the desire to obtain wealth without work, in
+other words, without payment; work, whether in the past or the present, is
+the natural payment for wealth, and any wealth that is obtained without
+work is in a measure a fraud committed upon the community. Poverty,
+despair, idleness, and every other vice spring from gambling as naturally,
+and in the same profusion, as weeds from barren land. Drink, too, is
+gambling's firmest ally."
+
+At this moment a certain dryness in his Lordship's throat reminded him of
+the pint of excellent claret that lordship always drank with his lunch,
+and the thought enabled lordship to roll out some excellent invective
+against the evils of beer and spirits. And lordship's losses on the horse
+whose name he could hardly recall helped to a forcible illustration of the
+theory that drink and gambling mutually uphold and enforce each other.
+When the news that Ben Jonson had broken down at the bushes came in,
+lordship had drunk a magnum of champagne, and memory of this champagne
+inspired a telling description of the sinking feeling consequent on the
+loss of a wager, and the natural inclination of a man to turn to drink to
+counteract it. Drink and gambling are growing social evils; in a great
+measure they are circumstantial, and only require absolute legislation to
+stamp them out almost entirely. This was not the first case of the kind
+that had come before him; it was one of many, but it was a typical case,
+presenting all the familiar features of the vice of which he had therefore
+spoken at unusual length. Such cases were on the increase, and if they
+continued to increase, the powers of the law would have to be
+strengthened. But even as the law stood at present, betting-houses,
+public-houses in which betting was carried on, were illegal, and it was
+the duty of the police to leave no means untried to unearth the offenders
+and bring them to justice. Lordship then glanced at the trembling woman in
+the dock. He condemned her to eighteen months' hard labour, and gathering
+up the papers on the desk, dismissed her for ever from his mind.
+
+The court adjourned for lunch, and Esther and William edged their way out
+of the crowd of lawyers and their clerks. Neither spoke for some time.
+William was much exercised by his Lordship's remarks on betting
+public-houses, and his advice that the police should increase their
+vigilance and leave no means untried to uproot that which was the curse
+and the ruin of the lower classes. It was the old story, one law for the
+rich, another for the poor. William did not seek to probe the question any
+further, this examination seemed to him to have exhausted it; and he
+remembered, after all that the hypocritical judge had said, how difficult
+it would be to escape detection. When he was caught he would be fined a
+hundred pounds, and probably lose his licence. What would he do then? He
+did not confide his fears to Esther. She had promised to say no more about
+the betting; but she had not changed her opinion. She was one of those
+stubborn ones who would rather die than admit they were wrong. Then he
+wondered what she thought of his Lordship's speech. Esther was thinking of
+the thin gruel Sarah would have to eat, the plank bed on which she would
+have to sleep, and the miserable future that awaited her when she should
+be released from gaol.
+
+It was a bright winter's day; the City folk were walking rapidly, tightly
+buttoned up in top-coats, and in a windy sky a flock of pigeons floated on
+straightened wings above the telegraph wires. Fleet Street was full of
+journalists going to luncheon-bars and various eating-houses. Their hurry
+and animation were remarkable, and Esther noticed how laggard was
+William's walk by comparison, how his clothes hung loose about him, and
+that the sharp air was at work on his lungs, making him cough. She asked
+him to button himself up more closely.
+
+"Is not that old John's wife?" Esther said.
+
+"Yes, that's her," said William. "She'd have seen us if that cove hadn't
+given her the shilling.... Lord, I didn't think they was as badly off as
+that. Did you ever see such rags? and that thick leg wrapped up in that
+awful stocking."
+
+The morning had been full of sadness, and Mrs. Randal's wandering rags had
+seemed to Esther like a foreboding. She grew frightened, as the cattle do
+in the fields when the sky darkens and the storm draws near. She suddenly
+remembered Mrs. Barfield, and she heard her telling her of the unhappiness
+that she had seen come from betting. Where was Mrs. Barfield? Should she
+ever see her again? Mr. Barfield was dead, Miss May was forced to live
+abroad for the sake of her health; all that time of long ago was over and
+done with. Some words that Mrs. Barfield had said came back to her; she
+had never quite understood them, but she had never quite forgotten them;
+they seemed to chime through her life. "My girl," Mrs. Barfield had said,
+"I am more than twenty years older than you, and I assure you that time
+has passed like a little dream; life is nothing. We must think of what
+comes after."
+
+"Cheer up, old girl; eighteen months is a long while, but it ain't a
+lifetime. She'll get through it all right; and when she comes out we'll
+try to see what we can do for her."
+
+William's voice startled Esther from the depth of her dream; she looked at
+him vaguely, and he saw that she had been thinking of something different
+from what he had suspected. "I thought it was on account of Sarah that you
+was looking so sad."
+
+"No," she said, "I was not thinking of Sarah."
+
+Then, taking it for granted that she was thinking of the wickedness of
+betting, his face darkened. It was aggravating to have a wife who was
+always troubling about things that couldn't be helped. The first person
+they saw on entering the bar was old John; and he sat in the corner of the
+bar on a high stool, his grey, death-like face sunk in the old unstarched
+shirt collar. The thin, wrinkled throat was hid with the remains of a
+cravat; it was passed twice round, and tied according to the fashions of
+fifty years ago. His boots were broken; the trousers, a grey, dirty brown,
+were torn as high up as the ankle; they had been mended and the patches
+hardly held together; the frock coat, green with age, with huge flaps over
+the pockets, frayed and torn, and many sizes too large, hung upon his
+starveling body. He seemed very feeble, and there was neither light nor
+expression in his glassy, watery eyes.
+
+"Eighteen months; a devil of a stiff sentence for a first offence," said
+William.
+
+"I just dropped in. Charles said you'd sure to be back. You're later than
+I expected."
+
+"We stopped to have a bit of lunch. But you heard what I said. She got
+eighteen months."
+
+"Who got eighteen months?"
+
+"Sarah."
+
+"Ah, Sarah. She was tried to-day. So she got eighteen months."
+
+"What's the matter? Wake up; you're half asleep. What will you have to
+drink?"
+
+"A glass of milk, if you've got such a thing."
+
+"Glass of milk! What is it, old man--not feeling well?"
+
+"Not very well. The fact is, I'm starving."
+
+"Starving! ...Then come into the parlour and have something to eat. Why
+didn't you say so before?"
+
+"I didn't like to."
+
+He led the old chap into the parlour and gave him a chair. "Didn't like to
+tell me that you was as hard up as all that? What do you mean? You didn't
+use to mind coming round for half a quid."
+
+"That was to back a horse; but I didn't like coming to ask for
+food--excuse me, I'm too weak to speak much."
+
+When old John had eaten, William asked how it was that things had gone so
+badly with him.
+
+"I've had terrible bad luck lately, can't get on a winner nohow. I have
+backed 'orses that 'as been tried to win with two stone more on their
+backs than they had to carry, but just because I was on them they didn't
+win. I don't know how many half-crowns I've had on first favourites. Then
+I tried the second favourites, but they gave way to outsiders or the first
+favourites when I took to backing them. Stack's tips and Ketley's omens
+was all the same as far as I was concerned. It's a poor business when
+you're out of luck."
+
+"It is giving way to fancy that does for the backers. The bookmaker's
+advantage is that he bets on principle and not on fancy."
+
+Old John told how unlucky he had been in business. He had been dismissed
+from his employment in the restaurant, not from any fault of his own, he
+had done his work well. "But they don't like old waiters; there's always a
+lot of young Germans about, and customers said I smelt bad. I suppose it
+was my clothes and want of convenience at home for keeping one's self
+tidy. We've been so hard up to pay the three and sixpence rent which we've
+owed, that the black coat and waistkit had to go to the pawnshop, so even
+if I did meet with a job in the Exhibition places, where they ain't so
+particular about yer age, I should not be able to take it. It's terrible
+to think that I should have to come to this and after having worked round
+the table this forty years, fifty pounds a year and all found, and
+accustomed always to a big footman and page-boy under me. But there's
+plenty more like me. It's a poor game. You're well out of it. I suppose
+the end of it will be the work'us. I'm pretty well wore out, and--"
+
+The old man's voice died away. He made no allusion to his wife. His
+dislike to speak of her was part and parcel of his dislike to speak of his
+private affairs. The conversation then turned on Sarah; the severity of
+the sentence was alluded to, and William spoke of how the judge's remarks
+would put the police on the watch, and how difficult it would be to
+continue his betting business without being found out.
+
+"There's no doubt that it is most unfortunate," said old John.
+
+"The only thing for you to do is to be very particular about yer
+introductions, and to refuse to bet with all who haven't been properly
+introduced."
+
+"Or to give up betting altogether," said Esther.
+
+"Give up betting altogether!" William answered, his face flushed, and he
+gradually worked himself into a passion. "I give you a good 'ome, don't I?
+You want for nothing, do yer? Well, that being so, I think you might keep
+your nose out of your husband's business. There's plenty of
+prayer-meetings where you can go preaching if you like."
+
+William would have said a good deal more, but his anger brought on a fit
+of coughing. Esther looked at him contemptuously, and without answering
+she walked into the bar.
+
+"That's a bad cough of yours," said old John.
+
+"Yes," said William, and he drank a little water to pass it off. "I must
+see the doctor about it. It makes one that irritable. The missis is in a
+pretty temper, ain't she?"
+
+Old John did not reply; it was not his habit to notice domestic
+differences of opinion, especially those in which women had a share--queer
+cattle that he knew nothing about. The men talked for a long time
+regarding the danger the judge's remarks had brought the house into; and
+they considered all the circumstances of the case. Allusion was made to
+the injustice of the law, which allowed the rich and forbade the poor to
+bet; anecdotes were related, but nothing they said threw new light on the
+matter in hand, and when Old John rose to go William summed up the
+situation in these few words--
+
+"Bet I must, if I'm to get my living. The only thing I can do is to be
+careful not to bet with strangers."
+
+"I don't see how they can do nothing to you if yer makes that yer
+principle and sticks to it," said old John, and he put on the huge-rimmed,
+greasy hat, three sizes too large for him, looking in his square-cut
+tattered frock-coat as queer a specimen of humanity as you would be likely
+to meet with in a day's walk. "If you makes that yer principle and sticks
+to it," thought William.
+
+But practice and principle are never reduced to perfect agreement. One is
+always marauding the other's territory; nevertheless for several months
+principle distinctly held the upper hand; William refused over and over
+again to make bets with comparative strangers, but the day came when his
+principle relaxed, and he took the money of a man whom he thought was all
+right. It was done on the impulse of the moment, but the two half-crowns
+wrapped up in the paper, with the name of the horse written on the paper,
+had hardly gone into the drawer than he felt that he had done wrong. He
+couldn't tell why, but the feeling came across him that he had done wrong
+in taking the man's money--a tall, clean-shaven man dressed in broadcloth.
+It was too late to draw back. The man had finished his beer and had left
+the bar, which in itself was suspicious.
+
+Three days afterwards, between twelve and one, just the busiest time, when
+the bar was full of people, there came a cry of "Police!" An effort was
+made to hide the betting plant; a rush was made for the doors. It was all
+too late; the sergeant and a constable ordered that no one was to leave
+the house; other police were outside. The names and addresses of all
+present were taken down; search was made, and the packets of money and the
+betting books were discovered. Then they all had to go to Marlborough
+Street.
+
+
+
+
+XLI
+
+
+Next day the following account was given in most of the daily
+papers:--"Raid on a betting man in the West End. William Latch, 35,
+landlord of the 'King's Head,' Dean Street, Soho, was charged that he,
+being a licensed person, did keep and use his public-house for the purpose
+of betting with persons resorting thereto. Thomas William, 35, billiard
+marker, Gaulden Street, Battersea; Arthur Henry Parsons, 25, waiter,
+Northumberland Street, Marylebone; Joseph Stack, 52, gentleman; Harold
+Journeyman, 45, gentleman, High Street, Norwood; Philip Hutchinson,
+grocer, Bisey Road, Fulham; William Tann, piano-tuner, Standard Street,
+Soho; Charles Ketley, butterman, Green Street, Soho; John Randal, Frith
+Street, Soho; Charles Muller, 44, tailor, Marylebone Lane; Arthur Bartram,
+stationer, East Street Buildings; William Burton, harness maker, Blue Lion
+Street, Bond Street, were charged with using the 'King's Head' for the
+purpose of betting. Evidence was given by the police regarding the room
+upstairs, where a good deal of drinking went on after hours. There had
+been cases of disorder, and the magistrate unfortunately remembered that a
+servant-girl, who had pledged her master's plate to obtain money to back a
+horse, had been arrested in the 'King's Head.' Taking these facts into
+consideration, it seemed to him that he could not do less than inflict a
+fine of L100. The men who were found in Latch's house he ordered to be
+bound over."
+
+Who had first given information? That was the question. Old John sat
+smoking in his corner. Journeyman leaned against the yellow-painted
+partition, his legs thrust out. Stack stood square, his dark,
+crimson-tinted skin contrasting with sallow-faced little Ketley.
+
+"Don't the omens throw no light on this 'ere matter?" said Journeyman.
+
+Ketley started from his reverie.
+
+"Ah," said William, "if I only knew who the b---- was."
+
+"Ain't you got no idea of any sort?" said Stack.
+
+"There was a Salvation chap who came in some months ago and told my wife
+that the betting was corrupting the neighbourhood. That it would have to
+be put a stop to. It may 'ave been 'e."
+
+"You don't ask no one to bet with you. They does as they like."
+
+"Does as they like! No one does that nowadays. There's a temperance party,
+a purity party, and a hanti-gambling party, and what they is working for
+is just to stop folk from doing as they like."
+
+"That's it," said Journeyman.
+
+Stack raised his glass to his lips and said, "Here's luck."
+
+"There's not much of that about," said William. "We seem to be losing all
+round. I'd like to know where the money goes. I think it is the 'ouse;
+it's gone unlucky, and I'm thinking of clearing out."
+
+"We may live in a 'ouse a long while before we find what its luck really
+is," said Ketley. "I've been in my old 'ouse these twenty years, and it
+ain't nothing like what I thought it."
+
+"You are that superstitious," said Journeyman. "If there was anything the
+matter with the 'ouse you'd've know'd it before now."
+
+"Ain't you doing the trade you was?" said Stack.
+
+"No, my butter and egg trade have fallen dreadful lately."
+
+The conversation paused. It was Stack who broke the silence.
+
+"Do you intend to do no more betting 'ere?" he asked.
+
+"What, after being fined L100? You 'eard the way he went on about Sarah,
+and all on account of her being took here. I think he might have left
+Sarah out."
+
+"It warn't for betting she took the plate," said Journeyman; "it was
+'cause her chap said if she did he'd marry her."
+
+"I wonder you ever left the course," said Stack.
+
+"It was on account of my 'ealth. I caught a dreadful cold at Kempton,
+standing about in the mud. I've never quite got over that cold."
+
+"I remember," said Ketley; "you couldn't speak above a whisper for two
+months."
+
+"Two months! more like three."
+
+"Fourteen weeks," said Esther.
+
+She was in favour of disposing of the house and going to live in the
+country. But it was soon found that the conviction for keeping a
+betting-house had spoiled their chance of an advantageous sale. If,
+however, the licence were renewed next year, and the business did not in
+the meantime decline, they would be in a position to obtain better terms.
+So all their energies should be devoted to the improvement of their
+business. Esther engaged another servant, and she provided the best meat
+and vegetables that money could buy; William ordered beer and spirits of a
+quality that could be procured nowhere else in the neighbourhood; but all
+to no purpose. As soon as it became known that it was no longer possible
+to pass half a crown or a shilling wrapped up in a piece of paper across
+the bar, their custom began to decline.
+
+At last William could stand it no longer, and he obtained his wife's
+permission to once more begin book-making on the course. His health had
+begun to improve with the spring weather, and there was no use keeping him
+at home eating his heart out with vexation because they were doing no
+business. So did Esther reason, and it reminded her of old times when he
+came back with his race-glasses slung round his shoulder. "Favourites all
+beaten today; what have you got for me to eat, old girl?" Esther forgot
+her dislike of racing in the joy of seeing her husband happy, if he'd only
+pick up a bit of flesh; but he seemed to get thinner and thinner, and his
+food didn't seem to do him any good.
+
+One day he came home complaining that the ring was six inches of soft mud;
+he was wet to the skin, and he sat shivering the whole evening, with the
+sensation of a long illness upon him. He was laid up for several weeks,
+and his voice seemed as if it would never return to him again. There was
+little or no occupation for him in the bar; and instead of laying he began
+to take the odds. He backed a few winners, it is true; but they could not
+rely on that. Most of their trade had slipped from them, so it did not
+much matter to them if they were found out. He might as well be hung for
+an old sheep as a lamb, and surreptitiously at first, and then more
+openly, he began to take money across the bar, and with every shilling he
+took for a bet another shilling was spent in drink. Custom came back in
+ripples, and then in stronger waves, until once again the bar of the
+"King's Head" was full to overflowing. Another conviction meant ruin, but
+they must risk it, so said William; and Esther, like a good wife,
+acquiesced in her husband's decision. But he took money only from those
+whom he was quite sure of. He required an introduction, and was careful to
+make inquiries concerning every new backer. "In this way," he said to
+Ketley, "so long as one is content to bet on a small scale, I think it can
+be kept dark; but if you try to extend your connection you're bound to
+come across a wrong 'un sooner or later. It was that room upstairs that
+did for me."
+
+"I never did think much of that room upstairs," said Ketley. "There was a
+something about it that I didn't like. Be sure you never bet in that jug
+and bottle bar, whatever you do. There's just the same look there as in
+the room upstairs. Haven't you noticed it?"
+
+"Can't say I've, nor am I sure that I know exactly what you mean."
+
+"If you don't see it, you don't see it; but it's plain enough to me, and
+don't you bet with nobody standing in that bar. I wouldn't go in there for
+a sovereign."
+
+William laughed. He thought at first that Ketley was joking, but he soon
+saw that Ketley regarded the jug and bottle entrance with real suspicion.
+When pressed to explain, he told Journeyman that it wasn't that he was
+afraid of the place, he merely didn't like it. "There's some places that
+you likes better than others, ain't they?" Journeyman was obliged to
+confess that there were.
+
+"Well, then, that's one of the places I don't like. Don't you hear a voice
+talking there, a soft, low voice, with a bit of a jeer in it?"
+
+On another occasion he shaded his eyes and peered curiously into the
+left-hand corner.
+
+"What are you looking at?" asked Journeyman.
+
+"At nothing that you can see," Ketley answered; and he drank his whisky as
+if lost in consideration of grave and difficult things. A few weeks later
+they noticed that he always got as far from the jug and bottle entrance as
+possible, and he was afflicted with a long story concerning a danger that
+awaited him. "He's waiting; but nothing will happen if I don't go in
+there. He can't follow me; he is waiting for me to go to him."
+
+"Then keep out of his way," said Journeyman. "You might ask your bloody
+friend if he can tell us anything about the Leger."
+
+"I'm trying to keep out of his way, but he's always watching and
+a-beckoning of me."
+
+"Can you see him now?" asked Stack.
+
+"Yes," said Ketley; "he's a-sitting there, and he seems to say that if I
+don't come to him worse will happen."
+
+"Don't say nothing to him," William whispered to Journeyman. "I don't
+think he's quite right in 'is 'ead; he's been losing a lot lately."
+
+One day Journeyman was surprised to see Ketley sitting quite composedly in
+the jug and bottle bar.
+
+"He got me at last; I had to go, the whispering got so loud in my head as
+I was a-coming down the street. I tried to get out into the middle of the
+street, but a drunken chap pushed me across the pavement, and he was at
+the door waiting, and he said, 'Now, you'd better come in; you know what
+will happen if you don't.'"
+
+"Don't talk rot, old pal; come round and have a drink with us."
+
+"I can't just at present--I may later on."
+
+"What do he mean?" said Stack.
+
+"Lord, I don't know," said Journeyman. "It's only his wandering talk."
+
+They tried to discuss the chances of the various horses they were
+interested in, but they could not detach their thoughts from Ketley, and
+their eyes went back to the queer little sallow-faced man who sat on a
+high stool in the adjoining bar paring his nails.
+
+They felt something was going to happen, and before they could say the
+word he had plunged the knife deep into his neck, and had fallen heavily
+on the floor. William vaulted over the counter. As he did so he felt
+something break in his throat, and when Stack and Journeyman came to his
+assistance he was almost as white as the corpse at his feet. Blood flowed
+from his mouth and from Ketley's neck in a deep stream that swelled into a
+great pool and thickened on the sawdust.
+
+"It was jumping over that bar," William replied, faintly.
+
+"I'll see to my husband," said Esther.
+
+A rush of blood cut short his words, and, leaning on his wife, he walked
+feebly round into the back parlour. Esther rang the bell violently.
+
+"Go round at once to Doctor Green," she said; "and if he isn't in inquire
+which is the nearest. Don't come back without a doctor."
+
+William had broken a small blood-vessel, and the doctor said he would have
+to be very careful for a long time. It was likely to prove a long case.
+But Ketley had severed the jugular at one swift, keen stroke, and had died
+almost instantly. Of course there was an inquest, and the coroner asked
+many questions regarding the habits of the deceased. Mrs. Ketley was one
+of the witnesses called, and she deposed that he had lost a great deal of
+money lately in betting, and that he went to the "King's Head" for the
+purpose of betting. The police deposed that the landlord of the "King's
+Head" had been fined a hundred pounds for keeping a betting-house, and the
+foreman of the jury remarked that betting-houses were the ruin of the
+poorer classes, and that they ought to be put a stop to. The coroner added
+that such places as the "King's Head" should not be licensed. That was the
+simplest and most effectual way of dealing with the nuisance.
+
+"There never was no luck about this house," said William, "and what there
+was has left us; in three months' time we shall be turned out of it neck
+and crop. Another conviction would mean a fine of a couple of hundred, or
+most like three months, and that would just about be the end of me."
+
+"They'll never license us again," said Esther, "and the boy at school and
+doing so well."
+
+"I'm sorry, Esther, to have brought this trouble on you. We must do the
+best we can, get the best price we can for the 'ouse. I may be lucky
+enough to back a few winners. That's all there is to be said--the 'ouse
+was always an unlucky one. I hate the place, and shall be glad to get out
+of it."
+
+Esther sighed. She didn't like to hear the house spoken ill of, and after
+so many years it did seem a shame.
+
+
+
+
+XLII
+
+
+Esther kept William within doors during the winter months. If his health
+did not improve it got no worse, and she had begun to hope that the
+breakage of the blood-vessel did not mean lung disease. But the harsh
+winds of spring did not suit him, and there was business with his lawyer
+to which he was obliged to attend. A determined set was going to be made
+against the renewal of his licence, and he was determined to defeat his
+opponents. Counsel was instructed, and a great deal of money was spent on
+the case. But the licence was nevertheless refused, and the north-east
+wind did not cease to rattle; it seemed resolved on William's death, and
+with a sick husband on her hands, and all the money they had invested in
+the house irreparably lost, Esther began to make preparations for moving.
+
+William had proved a kind husband, and in the seven years she had spent in
+the "King's Head" there had been some enjoyment of life. She couldn't say
+that she had been unhappy. She had always disapproved of the betting. They
+had tried to do without it. There was a great deal in life which one
+couldn't approve of. But Ketley had never been very right in his head, and
+Sarah's misfortune had had very little to do with the "King's Head." They
+had all tried to keep her from that man; it was her own fault. There were
+worse places than the "King's Head." It wasn't for her to abuse it. She
+had lived there seven years; she had seen her boy growing up--he was
+almost a young man now, and had had the best education. That much good the
+"King's Head" had done. But perhaps it was no longer suited to William's
+health. The betting, she was tired thinking about that; and that constant
+nipping, it was impossible for him to keep from it with every one asking
+him to drink with them. A look of fear and distress passed across her
+face, and she stopped for a moment....
+
+She was rolling up a pair of curtains. She did not know how they were to
+live, that was the worst of it. If they only had back the money they had
+sunk in the house she would not so much mind. That was what was so hard to
+bear; all that money lost, just as if they had thrown it into the river.
+Seven years of hard work--for she had worked hard--and nothing to show
+for it. If she had been doing the grand lady all the time it would have
+been no worse. Horses had won and horses had lost--a great deal of trouble
+and fuss and nothing to show for it. That was what stuck in her throat.
+Nothing to show for it. She looked round the dismantled walls, and
+descended the vacant staircase. She would never serve another pint of beer
+in that bar. What a strong, big fellow he was when she first went to live
+with him! He was sadly changed. Would she ever see him strong and well
+again? She remembered he had told her that he was worth nearly L3000. She
+hadn't brought him luck. He wasn't worth anything like that to-day.
+
+"How much have we in the bank, dear?"
+
+"A bit over six hundred pounds. I was reckoning of it up yesterday. But
+what do you want to know for? To remind me that I've been losing. Well, I
+have been losing. I hope you're satisfied."
+
+"I wasn't thinking of such a thing."
+
+"Yes, you was, there's no use saying you wasn't. It ain't my fault if the
+'orses don't win; I do the best I can."
+
+She did not answer him. Then he said, "It's my 'ealth that makes me
+irritable, dear; you aren't angry, are you?"
+
+"No, dear, I know you don't mean it, and I don't pay no attention to it."
+She spoke so gently that he looked at her surprised, for he remembered her
+quick temper, and he said, "You're the best wife a man ever had."
+
+"No, I'm not, Bill, but I tries to do my best."
+
+The spring was the harshest ever known, and his cough grew worse and the
+blood-spitting returned. Esther grew seriously alarmed. Their doctor spoke
+of Brompton Hospital, and she insisted on his going there to be examined.
+William would not have her come with him; and she did not press the point,
+fearing to irritate him, but sat at home waiting anxiously for him to
+return, hoping against hope, for their doctor had told her that he feared
+very long trouble. And she could tell from his face and manner that he had
+bad news for her. All her strength left her, but she conquered her
+weakness and said--
+
+"Now tell me what they said. I've a right to know; I want to know."
+
+"They said it was consumption."
+
+"Oh, did they say that?"
+
+"Yes, but they don't mean that I'm going to die. They said they hoped they
+could patch me up; people often live for years with only half a lung, and
+it is only the left one that's gone."
+
+He coughed slightly and wiped the blood from his lips. Esther was quite
+overcome.
+
+"Now, don't look like that," he said, "or I shall fancy I'm going to die
+to-morrow."
+
+"They said they thought that they could patch you up?"
+
+"Yes; they said I might go on a long while yet, but that I would never be
+the man I was."
+
+This was so obvious she could not check a look of pity.
+
+"If you're going to look at me like that I'd sooner go into the hospital
+at once. It ain't the cheerfulest of places, but it will be better than
+here."
+
+"I'm sorry it was consumption. But if they said they could patch you up,
+it will be all right. It was a great deal for them to say."
+
+Her duty was to overcome her grief and speak as if the doctors had told
+him that there was nothing the matter that a little careful nursing would
+fail to put right. William had faith in the warm weather, and she resolved
+to put her trust in it. It was hard to see him wasting away before her
+eyes and keep cheerful looks in her face and an accent of cheerfulness in
+heir voice. The sunshine which had come at last seemed to suck up all the
+life that was in him; he grew paler, and withered like a plant. Then
+ill-luck seemed to have joined in the hunt; he could not "touch" a winner,
+and their fortune drained away with his life. Favourites and outsiders, it
+mattered not; whatever he backed lost; and Esther dreaded the cry
+"Win-ner, all the win-ner!" He sat on the little balcony in the sunny
+evenings looking down the back street for the boy to appear with the
+"special." Then she had to go and fetch the paper. On the rare occasions
+when he won, the spectacle was even more painful. He brightened up, his
+thin arm and hand moved nervously, and he began to make projects and
+indulge in hopes which she knew were vain.
+
+She insisted, however, on his taking regularly the medicine they gave him
+at the hospital, and this was difficult to do. For his irritability
+increased in measure as he perceived the medicine was doing him no good;
+he found fault with the doctors, railed against them unjustly, and all the
+while the little; cough continued, and the blood-spitting returned at the
+end of cruel intervals, when he had begun to hope that at least that
+trouble was done with. One morning he told his wife that he was going to
+ask the doctors to examine him again. They had spoken of patching up; but
+he wanted to know whether he was going to live or die. There was a certain
+relief in hearing him speak so plainly; she had had enough of the torture
+of hope, and would like to know the worst. He liked better to go to the
+hospital alone, but she felt that she could not sit at home counting the
+minutes for him to return, and begged to be allowed to go with him. To her
+surprise, he offered no opposition. She had expected that her request
+would bring about quite a little scene, but he had taken it so much as a
+matter of course that she should accompany him that she was doubly glad
+that she had proposed to go with him; if she hadn't he might have accused
+her of neglecting him. She put on her hat; the day was too hot for a
+jacket; it was the beginning of August; the town was deserted, and the
+streets looked as if they were about to evaporate or lie down exhausted,
+and the poor, dry, dusty air that remained after the season was too poor
+even for Esther's healthy lungs; it made William cough, and she hoped the
+doctors would order him to the seaside.
+
+From the top of their omnibus they could see right across the plateau of
+the Green Park, dry and colourless like a desert; as they descended the
+hill they noticed that autumn was already busy in the foliage; lower down
+the dells were full of fallen leaves. At Hyde Park Corner the blown dust
+whirled about the hill-top; all along St. George's Place glimpses of the
+empty Park appeared through the railings. The wide pavements, the Brompton
+Road, and a semi-detached public-house at the cross-roads, announced
+suburban London to the Londoner.
+
+"You see," said William, "where them trees are, where the road turns off
+to the left. That 'ouse is the 'Bell and Horns.' That's the sort of house
+I should like to see you in."
+
+"It's a pity we didn't buy it when we had the money."
+
+"Buy it! That 'ouse is worth ten thousand pounds if it's worth a penny."
+
+"I was once in a situation not far from here. I like the Fulham Road; it's
+like a long village street, ain't it?"
+
+Her first service was with Mrs. Dunbar, in Sydney Street, and she
+remembered the square church tower at the Chelsea end; a little further on
+there was the Vestry Hall in the King's Road, and then Oakley Street on
+the left, leading down to Battersea. Mrs. Dunbar used to go to some
+gardens at the end of the King's Road. Cremorne Gardens, that was the
+name; there used to be fire-works there, and she often spent the evening
+at the back window watching the rockets go up. That was just before Lady
+Elwin had got her the situation as kitchen-maid at Woodview. She
+remembered the very shops--there was Palmer's the butterman, and there was
+Hyde's the grocer's. Everything was just as she had left it. How many
+years ago? Fifteen or sixteen. So enwrapped was she in memories that
+William had to touch her. "Here we are," he said; "don't you remember the
+place?"
+
+She remembered very well that great red brick building, a centrepiece with
+two wings, surrounded by high iron railings lined with gloomy shrubs. The
+long straight walks, the dismal trees arow, where pale-faced men walked or
+rested feebly, had impressed themselves on her young mind--thin, patient
+men, pacing their sepulchre. She had wondered who they were, if they would
+get well; and then, quick with sensation of lingering death, she had
+hurried away on her errands. The low wooden yellow-painted gates were
+unchanged. She had never before seen them open, and it was new to her to
+see the gardens filled with bright sunshine and numerous visitors. There
+were flowers in the beds, and the trees were beautiful in their leafage. A
+little yellow was creeping through, and from time to time a leaf fell
+exhausted from the branches.
+
+William, who was already familiar with the custom of the place, nodded to
+the porter and was let pass without question. He did not turn to the
+principal entrance in the middle of the building, but went towards a side
+entrance. The house physician was standing near it talking with a young
+man whom Esther recognised as Mr. Alden. The thought that he, too, might
+be dying of consumption crossed her mind, but his appearance and his
+healthy, hearty laugh reassured her. A stout, common girl, healthy too,
+came out of the building with a child, a little thing of twelve or
+thirteen, with death in her face. Mr. Alden stopped her, and in his
+cheerful, kind manner hoped the little one was better. She answered that
+she was. The doctor bade him good-bye and beckoned William and Esther to
+follow him. Esther would have liked to have spoken to Mr. Alden. But he
+did not see her, and she followed her husband, who was talking with the
+doctor, through the doorway into a long passage. At the end of the passage
+there were a number of girls in print dresses. The gaiety of the dresses
+led Esther to think that they must be visitors. But the little cough
+warned her that death was amongst them. As she went past she caught sight
+of a wasted form in a bath-chair. The thin hands were laid on the knees,
+on a little handkerchief, and there were spots on the whiteness deeper
+than the colour of the dress. They passed down another passage, meeting a
+sister on their way; pretty and discreet she was in her black dress and
+veil, and she raised her eyes, glancing affectionately at the young
+doctor. No doubt they loved each other. The eternal love-story among so
+much death!
+
+Esther wished to be present at the examination, but a sudden whim made
+William say that he would prefer to be alone with the doctor, and she
+returned to the gardens. Mr. Alden had not yet gone. He stood with his
+back turned to her. The little girl she had seen him speaking to was
+sitting on a bench under the trees; she held in her hands a skein of
+yellow worsted which her companion was winding into a ball. Two other
+young women were with them and all four were smiling and whispering and
+looking towards Mr. Alden. They evidently sought to attract his attention,
+and wished him to come and speak to them. Just the natural desire of women
+to please, and moved by the pathos of this poor coquetting, he went to
+them, and Esther could see that they all wanted to talk to him. She too
+would have liked to have spoken to him; he was an old friend. And she
+walked up the grounds, intending to pass by him as she walked back. His
+back was still turned to her, and they were all so interested that they
+gave no heed to anything else. One of the young women had an exceedingly
+pretty face. A small oval, perfectly snow-white, and large blue eyes
+shaded with long dark lashes; a little aquiline nose; and Esther heard her
+say, "I should be well enough if it wasn't for the cough. It isn't no
+better since--" The cough interrupted the end of the sentence, and
+affecting to misunderstand her, Mr. Alden said--
+
+"No better than it was a week ago."
+
+"A week ago!" said the poor girl. "It is no better since Christmas."
+
+There was surprise in her voice, and the pity of it took Mr. Alden in the
+throat, and it was with difficulty that he answered that "he hoped that
+the present fine weather would enable her to get well. Such weather as
+this," he said, "is as good as going abroad."
+
+This assertion was disputed. One of the women had been to Australia for
+her health, and the story of travel was interspersed by the little coughs,
+terrible in their apparent insignificance. But it was Mr. Alden that the
+others wished to hear speak; they knew all about their companion's trip to
+Australia, and in their impatience their eyes went towards Esther. So Mr.
+Alden became aware of a new presence, and he turned.
+
+"What! is it you, Esther?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"But there doesn't seem much the matter with you. You're all right."
+
+"Yes, I'm all right, sir; it's my husband."
+
+They walked a few yards up the path.
+
+"Your husband! I'm very sorry."
+
+"He's been an out-door patient for some time; he's being examined by the
+doctors now."
+
+"Whom did you marry, Esther?"
+
+"William Latch, a betting man, sir."
+
+"You married a betting man, Esther? How curiously things do work out! I
+remember you were engaged to a pious young man, the stationer's foreman.
+That was when you were with Miss Rice; you know, I suppose, that she's
+dead."
+
+"No, sir, I didn't know it. I've had so much trouble lately that I've not
+been to see her for nearly two years. When did she die, sir?"
+
+"About two months ago. So you married a betting man! Miss Rice did say
+something about it, but I don't think I understood that he was a betting
+man; I thought he was a publican."
+
+"So he was, sir. We lost our licence through the betting."
+
+"You say he's being examined by the doctor. Is it a bad case?"
+
+"I'm afraid it is, sir."
+
+They walked on in silence until they reached the gate.
+
+"To me this place is infinitely pathetic. That little cough never silent
+for long. Did you hear that poor girl say with surprise that her cough is
+no better than it was last Christmas?"
+
+"Yes, sir. Poor girl, I don't think she's long for this world."
+
+"But tell me about your husband, Esther," he said, and his face filled
+with an expression of true sympathy. "I'm a subscriber, and if your
+husband would like to become an in-door patient, I hope you'll let me
+know."
+
+"Thank you, sir; you was always the kindest, but there's no reason why I
+should trouble you. Some friends of ours have already recommended him, and
+it only rests with himself to remain out or go in."
+
+He pulled out his watch and said, "I am sorry to have met you in such sad
+circumstances, but I'm glad to have seen you. It must be seven years or
+more since you left Miss Rice. You haven't changed much; you keep your
+good looks."
+
+"Oh, sir."
+
+He laughed at her embarrassment and walked across the road hailing a
+hansom, just as he used to in old times when he came to see Miss Rice. The
+memory of those days came back upon her. It was strange to meet him again
+after so many years. She felt she had seen him now for the last time. But
+it was foolish and wicked, too, to think of such things; her husband
+dying.... But she couldn't help it; he reminded her of so much of what was
+past and gone. A moment after she dashed these personal tears aside and
+walked open-hearted to meet William. What had the doctor said? She must
+know the truth. If she was to lose him she would lose everything. No, not
+everything; her boy would still remain to her, and she felt that, after
+all, her boy was what was most real to her in life. These thoughts had
+passed through her mind before William had had time to answer her
+question.
+
+"He said the left lung was gone, that I'd never be able to stand another
+winter in England. He said I must go to Egypt."
+
+"Egypt," she repeated. "Is that very far from here?"
+
+"What matter how far it is! If I can't live in England I must go where I
+can live."
+
+"Don't be cross, dear. I know it's your health that makes you that
+irritable, but it's hard to bear at times."
+
+"You won't care to go to Egypt with me."
+
+"How can you think that, Bill? Have I ever refused you anything?"
+
+"Quite right, old girl, I'm sorry. I know you'd do anything for me. I've
+always said so, haven't I? It's this cough that makes me sharp tempered
+and fretful. I shall be different when I get to Egypt."
+
+"When do we start?"
+
+"If we get away by the end of October it will be all right. It will cost a
+lot of money; the journey is expensive, and we shall have to stop there
+six months. I couldn't think of coming home before the end of April."
+
+Esther did not answer. They walked some yards in silence. Then he said--
+
+"I've been very unlucky lately; there isn't much over a hundred pounds in
+the bank."
+
+"How much shall we want?"
+
+"Three or four hundred pounds at least. We won't take the boy with us, we
+couldn't afford that; but I should like to pay a couple of quarters in
+advance."
+
+"That won't be much."
+
+"Not if I have any luck. The luck must turn, and I have some splendid
+information about the Great Ebor and the Yorkshire Stakes. Stack knows of
+a horse or two that's being kept for Sandown. Unfortunately there is not
+much doing in August. I must try to make up the money: it's a matter of
+life and death."
+
+It was for his very life that her husband was now gambling on the
+race-course, and a sensation of very great wickedness came up in her mind,
+but she stifled it instantly. William had noticed the look of fear that
+appeared in her eyes, and he said--
+
+"It's my last chance. I can't get the money any other way; and I don't
+want to die yet awhile. I haven't been as good to you as I'd like, and I
+want to do something for the boy, you know."
+
+He had been told not to remain out after sundown, but he was resolved to
+leave no stone unturned in his search for information, and often he
+returned home as late as nine and ten o'clock at night coughing--Esther
+could hear him all up the street. He came in ready to drop with fatigue,
+his pockets filled with sporting papers, and these he studied, spreading
+them on the table under the lamp, while Esther sat striving to do some
+needlework. It often dropped out of her hands, and her eyes filled with
+tears. But she took care that he should not see these tears; she did not
+wish to distress him unnecessarily. Poor chap! he had enough to put up
+with as it was. Sometimes he read out the horses' names and asked her
+which she thought would win, which seemed to her a likely name. But she
+begged of him not to ask her; they had many quarrels on this subject, but
+in the end he understood that it was not fair to ask her. Sometimes Stack
+and Journeyman came in, and they argued about weights and distances, until
+midnight; old John came to see them, and every day he had heard some new
+tip. It often rose to Esther's lips to tell William to back his fancy and
+have done with it; she could see that these discussions only fatigued him,
+that he was no nearer to the truth now than he was a fortnight ago.
+Meanwhile the horse he had thought of backing had gone up in the betting.
+But he said that he must be very careful. They had only a hundred pounds
+left; he must be careful not to risk this money foolishly--it was his very
+life-blood. If he were to lose all this money, he wouldn't only sign his
+own death warrant, but also hers. He might linger on a long while--there
+was no knowing, but he would never be able to do any work, that was
+certain (unless he went out to Egypt); the doctor had said so, and then it
+would be she who would have to support him. And if God were merciful
+enough to take him off at once he would leave her in a worse plight than
+he had found her in, and the boy growing up! Oh, it was terrible! He
+buried his face in his hands, and seemed quite overcome. Then the cough
+would take him, and for a few minutes he could only think of himself.
+Esther gave him a little milk to drink, and he said--
+
+"There's a hundred pounds left, Esther. It isn't much, but it's something.
+I don't believe that there's much use in my going to Egypt. I shall never
+get well. It is better that I should pitch myself into the river. That
+would be the least selfish way out of it."
+
+"William, I will not have you talk in that way," Esther said, laying down
+her work and going over to him. "If you was to do such a thing I should
+never forgive you. I could never think the same of you."
+
+"All right, old girl, don't be frightened. I've been thinking too much
+about them horses, and am a bit depressed. I daresay it will come out all
+right. I think that Mahomet is sure to win the Great Ebor, don't you?"
+
+"I don't think there's no better judge than yourself. They all say if he
+don't fall lame that he's bound to win."
+
+"Then Mahomet shall carry my money. I'll back him to-morrow."
+
+Now that he had made up his mind what horse to back his spirits revived.
+He was able to dismiss the subject from his mind, and they talked of other
+things, of their son, and they laid projects for his welfare. But on the
+day of the race, from early morning, William could barely contain himself.
+Usually he took his winnings and losings very quietly. When he had been
+especially unlucky he swore a bit, but Esther had never seen any great
+excitement before a race was run. The issues of this race were
+extraordinary, and it was heart-breaking to see him suffer; he could not
+remain still a moment. A prey to all the terrors of hope, exhausted with
+anticipation, he rested himself against the sideboard and wiped drops of
+sweat from his forehead. A broiling sunlight infested their window-panes,
+the room grew oven-like, and he was obliged at last to go into the back
+parlour and lie down. He lay there in his shirt sleeves quite exhausted,
+hardly able to breathe; the arm once so strong and healthy was shrunken to
+a little nothing. He seemed quite bloodless, and looking at him Esther
+could hardly hope that any climate would restore him to health. He just
+asked her what the time was, and said, "The race is being run now." A few
+minutes after he said, "I think Mahomet has won. I fancied I saw him get
+first past the post." He spoke as if he were sure, and said nothing about
+the evening paper. If he were disappointed, Esther felt that it would kill
+him, and she knelt down by the bedside and prayed that God would allow the
+horse to win. It meant her husband's life, that was all she knew. Oh, that
+the horse might win! Presently he said, "There's no use praying, I feel
+sure it is all right. Go into the next room, stand on the balcony so that
+you may see the boy coming along."
+
+A pale yellow sky rose behind the brick neighbourhood, and with agonised
+soul the woman viewed its plausive serenity. There seemed to be hope in
+its quietness. At that moment the cry came up, "Win-ner, Win-ner." It came
+from the north, from the east, and now from the west. Three boys were
+shouting forth the news simultaneously. Ah, if it should prove bad news!
+But somehow she too felt that the news was good. She ran to meet the boy.
+She had a half-penny ready in her hand; he fumbled, striving to detach a
+single paper from the quire under his arm. Seeing her impatience, he said,
+"Mahomet's won." Then the pavement seemed to slide beneath her feet, and
+the setting sun she could hardly see, so full was her heart, so burdened
+with the happiness that she was bringing to the poor sick fellow who lay
+in his shirt sleeves on the bed in the back room. "It's all right," she
+said. "I thought so too; it seemed like it." His face flushed, life seemed
+to come back. He sat up and took the paper from her. "There," he said,
+"I've got my place-money, too. I hope Stack and Journeyman come in
+tonight. I'd like to have a chat about this. Come, give me a kiss, dear.
+I'm not going to die, after all. It isn't a pleasant thing to think that
+you must die, that there's no hope for you, that you must go under
+ground."
+
+The next thing to do was to pick the winner of the Yorkshire Handicap. In
+this he was not successful, but he backed several winners at Sandown Park,
+and at the close of the week had made nearly enough to take him to Egypt.
+
+The Doncaster week, however, proved disastrous. He lost most of his
+winnings, and had to look forward to retrieving his fortunes at Newmarket.
+"The worst of it is, if I don't make up the money by October, it will be
+no use. They say the November fogs will polish me off."
+
+Between Doncaster and Newmarket he lost a bet, and this bet carried him
+back into despondency. He felt it was no use struggling against fate.
+Better remain in London and be taken away at the end of November or
+December; he couldn't last much longer than that. This would allow him to
+leave Esther at least fifty pounds to go on with. The boy would soon be
+able to earn money. It would be better so. No use wasting all this money
+for the sake of his health, which wasn't worth two-pence-three-farthings.
+It was like throwing sovereigns after farthings. He didn't want to do any
+betting; he was as hollow as a shell inside, he could feel it. Egypt could
+do nothing for him, and as he had to go, better sooner than later. Esther
+argued with him. What should she have to live for if he was taken from
+her. The doctors had said that Egypt might set him right. She didn't know
+much about such things, but she had always heard that it was extraordinary
+how people got cured out there.
+
+"That's true," he said. "I've heard that people who couldn't live a week
+in England, who haven't the length of your finger of lung left, can go on
+all right out there. I might get something to do out there, and the boy
+might come out after us."
+
+"That's the way I like to hear you talk. Who knows, at Newmarket we might
+have luck! Just one big bet, a winner at fifty to one, that's all we
+want."
+
+"That's just what has been passing in my mind. I've got particular
+information about the Cesarewitch and Cambridgeshire. I could get the
+price you speak of--fifty to one against the two, Matchbox and
+Chasuble--the double event, you know. I'm inclined to go it. It's my last
+chance."
+
+
+
+
+XLIII
+
+
+When Matchbox galloped home the winner of the Cesarewitch by five lengths,
+William was lying in his bed, seemingly at death's door. He had remained
+out late one evening, had caught cold, and his mouth was constantly filled
+with blood. He was much worse, and could hardly take notice of the good
+news. When he revived a little he said, "It has come too late." But when
+Chasuble was backed to win thousands at ten to one, and Journeyman and
+Stack assured him that the stable was quite confident of being able to
+pull it off, his spirits revived. He spoke of hedging. "If," he said to
+Esther, "I was to get out at eight or nine to one I should be able to
+leave you something, you know, in case of accidents." But he would not
+entrust laying off his bet to either Stack of Journeyman; he spoke of a
+cab and seeing to it himself. If he did this the doctor assured him that
+it would not much matter whether Chasuble won or lost. "The best thing he
+could do," the doctor said, "would be to become an in-door patient at
+once. In the hospital he would be in an equable temperature, and he would
+receive an attention which he could not get at home."
+
+William did not like going into the hospital; it would be a bad omen. If
+he did, he felt sure that Chasuble would not win.
+
+"What has going or not going to the hospital to do with Chasuble's chance
+of winning the Cambridgeshire?" said the doctor. "This window is loose in
+its sash, a draught comes under the door, and if you close out the
+draughts the atmosphere of the room becomes stuffy. You're thinking of
+going abroad; a fortnight's nice rest is just what you want to set you up
+for your journey."
+
+So he allowed himself to be persuaded; he was taken to the hospital, and
+Esther remained at home waiting for the fateful afternoon. Now that the
+dying man was taken from her she had no work to distract her thought. The
+unanswerable question--would Chasuble win?--was always before her. She saw
+the slender greyhound creatures as she had seen them at Epsom, through a
+sea of heads and hats, and she asked herself if Chasuble was the brown
+horse that had galloped in first, or the chestnut that had trotted in
+last. She often thought she was going mad--her head seemed like it--a
+sensation of splitting like a piece of calico.... She went to see her boy.
+Jack was a great tall fellow of fifteen, and had happily lost none of his
+affection for his mother, and great sweetness rose up within her. She
+looked at his long, straight, yellow-stockinged legs; she settled the
+collar of his cloak, and slipped her fingers into his leathern belt as
+they walked side by side. He was bare-headed, according to the fashion of
+his school, and she kissed the wild, dark curls with which his head was
+run over; they were much brighter in colour when he was a little
+boy--those days when she slaved seventeen hours a day for his dear life!
+But he paid her back tenfold for the hardship she had undergone.
+
+She listened to the excellent report his masters gave of his progress, and
+walked through the quadrangles and the corridors with him, thinking of the
+sound of his voice as he told her the story of his classes and his
+studies. She must live for him; though for herself she had had enough of
+life. But, thank God, she had her darling boy, and whatever unhappiness
+there might be in store for her she would bear it for his sake. He knew
+that his father was ill, but she refrained and told him no word of the
+tragedy that was hanging over them. The noble instincts which were so
+intrinsically Esther Waters' told her that it were a pity to soil at the
+outset a young life with a sordid story, and though it would have been an
+inexpressible relief to her to have shared her trouble with her boy, she
+forced back her tears and courageously bore her cross alone, without once
+allowing its edge to touch him.
+
+And every day that visitors were allowed she went to the hospital with the
+newspaper containing the last betting. "Chasuble, ten to one taken,"
+William read out. The mare had advanced three points, and William looked
+at Esther inquiringly, and with hope in his eyes.
+
+"I think she'll win," he said, raising himself in his cane chair.
+
+"I hope so, dear," she murmured, and she settled his cushions.
+
+Two days after the mare was back again at thirteen to one taken and
+offered; she went back even as far as eighteen to one, and then returned
+for a while to twelve to one. This fluctuation meant that something was
+wrong, and William began to lose hope. But on the following day the mare
+was backed to win a good deal of money at Tattersall's, and once more she
+stood at ten to one. Seeing her back at the old price made William look so
+hopeful that a patient stopped as he passed down the corridor, and
+catching sight of the _Sportsman_ on William's lap, he asked him if he was
+interested in racing. William told him that he was, and that if Chasuble
+won he would be able to go to Egypt.
+
+"Them that has money can buy health as well as everything else. We'd all
+get well if we could get out there."
+
+William told him how much he stood to win.
+
+"That'll keep you going long enough to set you straight. You say the
+mare's backed at ten to one--two hundred to twenty. I wonder if I could
+get the money. I might sell up the 'ouse."
+
+But before he had time to realise the necessary money the mare was driven
+back to eighteen to one, and he said--
+
+"She won't win. I might as well leave the wife in the 'ouse. There's no
+luck for them that comes 'ere."
+
+On the day of the race Esther walked through the streets like one daft,
+stupidly interested in the passers-by and the disputes that arose between
+the drivers of cabs and omnibuses. Now and then her thoughts collected,
+and it seemed to her impossible that the mare should win. If she did they
+would have L2,500, and would go to Egypt. But she could not imagine such a
+thing; it seemed so much more natural that the horse should lose, and that
+her husband should die, and that she should have to face the world once
+more. She offered up prayers that Chasuble might win, although it did not
+seem right to address God on the subject, but her heart often felt like
+breaking, and she had to do something. And she had no doubt that God would
+forgive her. But now that the day had come she did not feel as if he had
+granted her request. At the same time it did not seem possible that her
+husband was going to die. It was all so hard to understand.
+
+She stopped at the "Bell and Horns" to see what the time was, and was
+surprised to find it was half-an-hour later than she had expected. The
+race was being run, Chasuble's hoofs were deciding whether her husband was
+to live or die. It was on the wire by this time. The wires were distinct
+upon a blue and dove-coloured sky. Did that one go to Newmarket, or the
+other? Which?
+
+The red building came in sight, and a patient walked slowly up the walk,
+his back turned to her; another had sat down to rest. Sixteen years ago
+patients were walking there then, and the leaves were scattering then just
+as now.... Without transition of thought she wondered when the first boy
+would appear with the news. William was not in the grounds; he was
+upstairs behind those windows. Poor fellow, she could fancy him sitting
+there. Perhaps he was watching for her out of one of those windows. But
+there was no use her going up until she had the news; she must wait for
+the paper. She walked up and down listening for the cry. Every now and
+then expectation led her to mistake some ordinary cry for the terrible
+"Win-ner, all the win-ner," with which the whole town would echo in a few
+minutes. She hastened forward. No, it was not it. At last she heard the
+word shrieked behind her. She hastened after the boy, but failed to
+overtake him. Returning, she met another, gave him a half-penny and took a
+paper. Then she remembered she must ask the boy to tell her who won. But
+heedless of her question he had run across the road to sell papers to some
+men who had come out of a public-house. She must not give William the
+paper and wait for him to read the news to her. If the news were bad the
+shock might kill him. She must learn first what the news was, so that her
+face and manner might prepare him for the worst if need be. So she offered
+the paper to the porter and asked him to tell her. "Bramble, King of
+Trumps, Young Hopeful," he read out.
+
+"Are you sure that Chasuble hasn't won?"
+
+"Of course I'm sure, there it is."
+
+"I can't read," she said as she turned away.
+
+The news had stunned her; the world seemed to lose reality; she was
+uncertain what to do, and several times repeated to herself, "There's
+nothing for it but to go up and tell him. I don't see what else I can do."
+The staircase was very steep; she climbed it slowly, and stopped at the
+first landing and looked out of the window. A poor hollow-chested
+creature, the wreck of a human being, struggled up behind her. He had to
+rest several times, and in the hollow building his cough sounded loud and
+hollow. "It isn't generally so loud as that," she thought, and wondered
+how she could tell William the news. "He wanted to see Jack grow up to be
+a man. He thought that we might all go to Egypt, and that he'd get quite
+well there, for there's plenty of sunshine there, but now he'll have to
+make up his mind to die in the November fogs." Her thoughts came strangely
+clear, and she was astonished at her indifference, until a sudden
+revulsion of feeling took her as she was going up the last flight. She
+couldn't tell him the news; it was too cruel. She let the patient pass
+her, and when alone on the landing she looked down into the depth. She
+thought she'd like to fall over; anything rather than to do what she knew
+she must do. But her cowardice only endured for a moment, and with a firm
+step she walked into the corridor. It seemed to cross the entire building,
+and was floored and wainscotted with the same brown varnished wood as the
+staircase. There were benches along the walls; and emaciated and worn-out
+men lay on the long cane chairs in the windowed recesses by which the
+passage was lighted. The wards, containing sometimes three, sometimes six
+or seven beds, opened on to this passage. The doors of the wards were all
+open, and as she passed along she started at the sight of a boy sitting up
+in bed. His head had been shaved and only a slight bristle covered the
+crown. The head and face were a large white mass with two eyes. At the end
+of the passage there was a window; and William sat there reading a book.
+He saw her before she saw him, and when she caught sight of him she
+stopped, holding the paper loose before her between finger and thumb, and
+as she approached she saw that her manner had already broken the news to
+him.
+
+"I see that she didn't win," he said.
+
+"No, dear, she didn't win. We wasn't lucky this time: next time--"
+
+"There is no next time, at least for me. I shall be far away from here
+when flat racing begins again. The November fogs will do for me, I feel
+that they will. I hope there'll be no lingering, that's all. Better to
+know the worst and make up your mind. So I have to go, have I? So there's
+no hope, and I shall be under ground before the next meeting. I shall
+never lay or take the odds again. It do seem strange. If only that mare
+had won. I knew damned well she wouldn't if I came here."
+
+Then, catching sight of the pained look on his wife's face, he said, "I
+don't suppose it made no difference; it was to be, and what has to be has
+to be. I've got to go under ground. I felt it was to be all along. Egypt
+would have done me no good; I never believed in it--only a lot of false
+hope. You don't think what I say is true. Look 'ere, do you know what book
+this is? This is the Bible; that'll prove to you that I knew the game was
+up. I knew, I can't tell you how, but I knew the mare wouldn't win. One
+always seems to know. Even when I backed her I didn't feel about her like
+I did about the other one, and ever since I've been feeling more and more
+sure that it wasn't to be. Somehow it didn't seem likely, and to-day
+something told me that the game was up, so I asked for this book....
+There's wonderful beautiful things in it."
+
+"There is, indeed, Bill; and I hope you won't get tired of it, but will go
+on reading it."
+
+"It's extraordinary how consoling it is. Listen to this. Isn't it
+beautiful; ain't them words heavenly?"
+
+"They is, indeed. I knew you'd come to God at last."
+
+"I'm afraid I've not led a good life. I wouldn't listen to you when you
+used to tell me of the lot of harm the betting used to bring on the poor
+people what used to come to our place. There's Sarah, I suppose she's out
+of prison by this. You've seen nothing of her, I suppose?"
+
+"No, nothing."
+
+"There was Ketley."
+
+"No, Bill, don't let's think about it. If you're truly sorry, God will
+forgive."
+
+"Do you think He will--and the others that we know nothing about? I
+wouldn't listen to you; I was headstrong, but I understand it all now. My
+eyes 'ave been opened. Them pious folk that got up the prosecution knew
+what they was about. I forgive them one and all."
+
+William coughed a little. The conversation paused, and the cough was
+repeated down the corridor. Now it came from the men lying on the long
+cane chairs; now from the poor emaciated creature, hollow cheeks, brown
+eyes and beard, who had just come out of his ward and had sat down on a
+bench by the wall. Now it came from an old man six feet high, with
+snow-white hair. He sat near them, and worked assiduously at a piece of
+tapestry. "It'll be better when it's cut," he said to one of the nurses,
+who had stopped to compliment him on his work; "it'll be better when it's
+cut." Then the cough came from one of the wards, and Esther thought of the
+fearsome boy sitting bolt up, his huge tallow-like face staring through
+the silence of the room. A moment after the cough came from her husband's
+lips, and they looked at each other. Both wanted to speak, and neither
+knew what to say. At last William spoke.
+
+"I was saying that I never had that feeling about Chasuble as one 'as
+about a winner. Did she run second? Just like my luck if she did. Let me
+see the paper."
+
+Esther handed it to him.
+
+"Bramble, a fifty to one chance, not a man in a hundred backed her; King
+of Trumps, there was some place money lost on him; Young Hopeful, a rank
+outsider. What a day for the bookies!"
+
+"You mustn't think of them things no more," said Esther. "You've got the
+Book; it'll do you more good."
+
+"If I'd only have thought of Bramble... I could have had a hundred to one
+against Matchbox and Bramble coupled."
+
+"What's the use of thinking of things that's over? We should think of the
+future."
+
+"If I'd only been able to hedge that bet I should have been able to leave
+you something to go on with, but now, when everything is paid for, you'll
+have hardly a five-pound note. You've been a good wife to me, and I've
+been a bad husband to you."
+
+"Bill, you mustn't speak like that. You must try to make your peace with
+God. Think of Him. He'll think of us that you leave behind. I've always
+had faith in Him. He'll not desert me."
+
+Her eyes were quite dry; the instinct of life seemed to have left her.
+They spoke some little while longer, until it was time for visitors to
+leave the hospital. It was not until she got into the Fulham Road that
+tears began to run down her cheeks; they poured faster and faster, like
+rain after long dry weather. The whole world disappeared in a mist of
+tears. And so overcome was she by her grief that she had to lean against
+the railings, and then the passers-by turned and looked at her curiously.
+
+
+
+
+XLIV
+
+
+With fair weather he might hold on till Christmas, but if much fog was
+about he would go off with the last leaves. One day Esther received a
+letter asking her to defer her visit from Friday to Sunday. He hoped to be
+better on Sunday, and then they would arrange when she should come to take
+him away. He begged of her to have Jack home to meet him. He wanted to see
+his boy before he died.
+
+Mrs. Collins, a woman who lived in the next room, read the letter to
+Esther.
+
+"If you can, do as he wishes. Once they gets them fancies into their heads
+there's no getting them out."
+
+"If he leaves the hospital on a day like this it'll be the death of him."
+
+Both women went to the window. The fog was so thick that only an outline
+here and there was visible of the houses opposite. The lamps burnt low,
+mournful, as in a city of the dead, and the sounds that rose out of the
+street added to the terror of the strange darkness.
+
+"What do he say about Jack? That I'm to send for him. It's natural he
+should like to see the boy before he goes, but it would be cheerfuller to
+take him to the hospital."
+
+"You see, he wants to die at home; he wants you to be with him at the
+last."
+
+"Yes, I want to see the last of him. But the boy, where's he to sleep?"
+
+"We can lay a mattress down in my room--an old woman like me, it don't
+matter."
+
+Sunday morning was harsh and cold, and when she came out of South
+Kensington Station a fog was rising in the squares, and a great whiff of
+yellow cloud drifted down upon the house-tops. In the Fulham road the tops
+of the houses disappeared, and the light of the third gas-lamp was not
+visible.
+
+"This is the sort of weather that takes them off. I can hardly breathe it
+myself."
+
+Everything was shadow-like; those walking in front of her passed out of
+sight like shades, and once she thought she must have missed her way,
+though that was impossible, for her way was quite straight.... Suddenly
+the silhouette of the winged building rose up enormous on the sulphur sky.
+The low-lying gardens were full of poisonous vapour, and the thin trees
+seemed like the ghosts of consumptive men. The porter coughed like a dead
+man as she passed, and he said, "Bad weather for the poor sick ones
+upstairs."
+
+She was prepared for a change for the worse, but she did not expect to see
+a living man looking so like a dead one.
+
+He could no longer lie back in bed and breathe, so he was propped up with
+pillows, and he looked even as shadow-like as those she had half seen in
+the fog-cloud. There was fog even in the ward, and the lights burned red
+in the silence. There were five beds--low iron bedsteads--and each was
+covered with a dark red rug. In the furthest corner lay the wreck of a
+great working man. He wore his hob-nails and his corduroys, and his once
+brawny arm lay along his thigh, shrivelled and powerless as a child's. In
+the middle of the room a little clerk, wasted and weary, without any
+strength at all, lay striving for breath. The navvy was alone; the little
+clerk had his family round him, his wife and his two children, a baby in
+arms and a little boy three years old. The doctor had just come in, and
+the woman was prattling gaily about her confinement. She said--
+
+"I was up the following week. Wonderful what we women can go through. No
+one would think it.... brought the childer to see their father; they is a
+little idol to him, poor fellow."
+
+"How are you to-day, dearie?" Esther said, as she took a seat by her
+husband's bed.
+
+"Better than I was on Friday, but this weather'll do for me if it
+continues much longer.... You see them two beds? They died yesterday, and
+I've 'eard that three or four that left the hospital are gone, too."
+
+The doctor came to William's bed. "Well, are you still determined to go
+home?" he said.
+
+"Yes; I'd like to die at home. You can't do nothing for me.... I'd like to
+die at home; I want to see my boy."
+
+"You can see Jack here," said Esther.
+
+"I'd sooner see him at 'ome.... I suppose you don't want the trouble of a
+death in the 'ouse."
+
+"Oh, William, how can you speak so!" The patient coughed painfully, and
+leaned against the pillows, unable to speak.
+
+Esther remained with William till the time permitted to visitors had
+expired. He could not speak to her but she knew he liked her to be with
+him.
+
+When she came on Thursday to take him away, he was a little better. The
+clerk's wife was chattering; the great navvy lay in the corner, still as a
+block of stone. Esther often looked at him and wondered if he had no
+friend who could spare an hour to come and see him.
+
+"I was beginning to think that you wasn't coming," said William.
+
+"He's that restless," said the clerk's wife; "asking the time every three
+or four minutes."
+
+"How could you think that?" said Esther.
+
+"I dun know... you're a bit late, aren't you?"
+
+"It often do make them that restless," said the clerk's wife. "But my poor
+old man is quiet enough--aren't you, dear?" The dying clerk could not
+answer, and the woman turned again to Esther.
+
+"And how do you find him to-day?"
+
+"Much the same.... I think he's a bit better; stronger, don't yer know.
+But this weather is that trying. I don't know how it was up your way, but
+down my way I never seed such a fog. I thought I'd have to turn back." At
+that moment the baby began to cry, and the woman walked up and down the
+ward, rocking it violently, talking loud, and making a great deal of
+noise. But she could not quiet him.... "Hungry again," she said. "I never
+seed such a child for the breast," and she sat down and unbuttoned her
+dress. When the young doctor entered she hurriedly covered herself; he
+begged her to continue, and spoke about her little boy. She showed him a
+scar on his throat. He had been suffering, but it was all right now. The
+doctor glanced at the breathless father.
+
+"A little better to-day, thank you, doctor."
+
+"That's all right;" and the doctor went over to William.
+
+"Are you still determined to leave the hospital?" he said.
+
+"Yes, I want to go home. I want to--"
+
+"You'll find this weather very trying; you'd better--"
+
+"No, thank you, sir. I should like to go home. You've been very kind;
+you've done everything that could be done for me. But it's God's will....
+My wife is very grateful to you, too."
+
+"Yes, indeed, I am, sir. However am I to thank you for your kindness to my
+husband?'
+
+"I'm sorry I couldn't do more. But you'll want the sister to help you to
+dress him. I'll send her to you."
+
+When they got him out of bed, Esther was shocked at the spectacle of his
+poor body. There was nothing left of him. His poor chest, his wasted ribs,
+his legs gone to nothing, and the strange weakness, worst of all, which
+made it so hard for them to dress him. At last it was nearly done: Esther
+laced one boot, the nurse the other, and, leaning on Esther's arm, he
+looked round the room for the last time. The navvy turned round on his bed
+and said--
+
+"Good-bye, mate."
+
+"Good-bye.... Good-bye, all."
+
+The clerk's little son clung to his mother's skirt, frightened at the
+weakness of so big a man.
+
+"Go and say good-bye to the gentleman."
+
+The little boy came forward timidly, offering his hand. William looked at
+the poor little white face; he nodded to the father and went out.
+
+As he went downstairs he said he would like to go home in a hansom. The
+doctor and nurse expostulated, but he persisted until Esther begged of him
+to forego the wish for her sake.
+
+"They do rattle so, these four-wheelers, especially when the windows are
+up. One can't speak."
+
+The cab jogged up Piccadilly, and as it climbed out of the hollow the
+dying man's eyes were fixed on the circle of lights that shone across the
+Green Park. They looked like a distant village, and Esther wondered if
+William was thinking of Shoreham--she had seen Shoreham look like that
+sometimes--or if he was thinking that he was looking on London for the
+last time. Was he saying to himself, "I shall never, never see Piccadilly
+again"? They passed St. James's Street. The Circus, with its mob of
+prostitutes, came into view; the "Criterion" bar, with its loafers
+standing outside. William leaned a little forward, and Esther was sure he
+was thinking that he would never go into that bar again. The cab turned to
+the left, and Esther said that it would cross Soho, perhaps pass down Old
+Compton Street, opposite their old house. It happened that it did, and
+Esther and William wondered who were the new people who were selling beer
+and whisky in the bar? All the while boys were crying, "Win-ner, all the
+win-ner!"
+
+"The ---- was run to-day. Flat racing all over, all over for this year."
+
+Esther did not answer. The cab passed over a piece of asphalte, and he
+said--
+
+"Is Jack waiting for us?"
+
+"Yes, he came home yesterday."
+
+The fog was thick in Bloomsbury, and when he got out of the cab he was
+taken with a fit of coughing, and had to cling to the railings. She had to
+pay the cab, and it took some time to find the money. Would no one open
+the door? She was surprised to see him make his way up the steps to the
+bell, and having got her change, she followed him into the house.
+
+"I can manage. Go on first; I'll follow."
+
+And stopping every three or four steps for rest, he slowly dragged himself
+up to the first landing. A door opened and Jack stood on the threshold of
+the lighted room.
+
+"Is that you, mother?"
+
+"Yes, dear; your father is coming up."
+
+The boy came forward to help, but his mother whispered, "He'd rather come
+up by himself."
+
+William had just strength to walk into the room; they gave him a chair,
+and he fell back exhausted. He looked around, and seemed pleased to see
+his home again. Esther gave him some milk, into which she had put a little
+brandy, and he gradually revived.
+
+"Come this way, Jack; I want to look at you; come into the light where I
+can see you."
+
+"Yes, father."
+
+"I haven't long to see you, Jack. I wanted to be with you and your mother
+in our own home. I can talk a little now: I may not be able to to-morrow."
+
+"Yes, father."
+
+"I want you to promise me, Jack, that you'll never have nothing to do with
+racing and betting. It hasn't brought me or your mother any luck."
+
+"Very well, father."
+
+"You promise me, Jack. Give me your hand. You promise me that, Jack."
+
+"Yes, father, I promise."
+
+"I see it all clearly enough now. Your mother, Jack, is the best woman in
+the world. She loved you better than I did. She worked for you--that is a
+sad story. I hope you'll never hear it."
+
+Husband and wife looked at each other, and in that look the wife promised
+the husband that the son should never know the story of her desertion.
+
+"She was always against the betting, Jack; she always knew it would bring
+us ill-luck. I was once well off, but I lost everything. No good comes of
+money that one doesn't work for."
+
+"I'm sure you worked enough for what you won," said Esther; "travelling
+day and night from race-course to race-course. Standing on them
+race-courses in all weathers; it was the colds you caught standing on them
+race-courses that began the mischief."
+
+"I worked hard enough, that's true; but it was not the right kind of
+work.... I can't argue, Esther.... But I know the truth now, what you
+always said was the truth. No good comes of money that hasn't been
+properly earned."
+
+He sipped the brandy-and-milk and looked at Jack, who was crying bitterly.
+
+"You mustn't cry like that, Jack; I want you to listen to me. I've still
+something on my mind. Your mother, Jack, is the best woman that ever
+lived. You're too young to understand how good. I didn't know how good for
+a long time, but I found it all out in time, as you will later, Jack, when
+you are a man. I'd hoped to see you grow up to be a man, Jack, and your
+mother and I thought that you'd have a nice bit of money. But the money I
+hoped to leave you is all gone. What I feel most is that I'm leaving you
+and your mother as badly off as she was when I married her." He heaved a
+deep sigh, and Esther said--
+
+"What is the good of talking of these things, weakening yourself for
+nothing?"
+
+"I must speak, Esther. I should die happy if I knew how you and the boy
+was going to live. You'll have to go out and work for him as you did
+before. It will be like beginning it all again."
+
+The tears rolled down his cheeks; he buried his face in his hands and
+sobbed, until the sobbing brought on a fit of coughing. Suddenly his mouth
+filled with blood. Jack went for the doctor, and all remedies were tried
+without avail. "There is one more remedy," the doctor said, "and if that
+fails you must prepare for the worst." But this last remedy proved
+successful, and the haemorrhage was stopped, and William was undressed and
+put to bed. The doctor said, "He mustn't get up to-morrow."
+
+"You lie in bed to-morrow, and try to get up your strength. You've
+overdone yourself to-day."
+
+She had drawn his bed into the warmest corner, close by the fire, and had
+made up for herself a sort of bed by the window, where she might doze a
+bit, for she did not expect to get much sleep. She would have to be up and
+down many times to settle his pillows and give him milk or a little weak
+brandy-and-water.
+
+Night wore away, the morning grew into day, and about twelve o'clock he
+insisted on getting up. She tried to persuade him, but he said he could
+not stop in bed; and there was nothing for it but to ask Mrs. Collins to
+help her dress him. They placed him comfortably in a chair. The cough had
+entirely ceased and he seemed better. And on Saturday night he slept
+better than he had done for a long while and woke up on Sunday morning
+refreshed and apparently much stronger. He had a nice bit of boiled rabbit
+for his dinner. He didn't speak much; Esther fancied that he was still
+thinking of them. When the afternoon waned, about four o'clock, he called
+Jack; he told him to sit in the light where he could see him, and he
+looked at his son with such wistful eyes. These farewells were very sad,
+and Esther had to turn aside to hide her tears.
+
+"I should have liked to have seen you a man, Jack."
+
+"Don't speak like that--I can't bear it," said the poor boy, bursting into
+tears. "Perhaps you won't die yet."
+
+"Yes, Jack; I'm wore out. I can feel," he said, pointing to his chest,
+"that there is nothing here to live upon.... It is the punishment come
+upon me."
+
+"Punishment for what, father?"
+
+"I wasn't always good to your mother, Jack."
+
+"If to please me, William, you'll say no more."
+
+"The boy ought to know; it will be a lesson for him, and it weighs upon my
+heart."
+
+"I don't want my boy to hear anything bad about his father, and I forbid
+him to listen."
+
+The conversation paused, and soon after William said that his strength was
+going from him, and that he would like to go back to bed. Esther helped
+him off with his clothes, and together she and Jack lifted him into bed.
+He sat up looking at them with wistful, dying eyes.
+
+"It is hard to part from you," he said. "If Chasuble had won we would have
+all gone to Egypt. I could have lived out there."
+
+"You must speak of them things no more. We all must obey God's will."
+Esther dropped on her knees; she drew Jack down beside her, and William
+asked Jack to read something from the Bible. Jack read where he first
+opened the book, and when he had finished William said that he liked to
+listen. Jack's voice sounded to him like heaven.
+
+About eight o'clock William bade his son good-night.
+
+"Good-night, my boy; perhaps we shan't see each other again. This may be
+my last night."
+
+"I won't leave you, father."
+
+"No, my boy, go to your bed. I feel I'd like to be alone with mother." The
+voice sank almost to a whisper.
+
+"You'll remember what you promised me about racing.... Be good to your
+mother--she's the best mother a son ever had."
+
+"I'll work for mother, father, I'll work for her."
+
+"You're too young, my son, but when you're older I hope you'll work for
+her. She worked for you.... Good-bye, my boy."
+
+The dying man sweated profusely, and Esther wiped his face from time to
+time. Mrs. Collins came in. She had a large tin candlestick in her hand in
+which there was a fragment of candle end. He motioned to her to put it
+aside. She put it on the table out of the way of his eyes.
+
+"You'll help Esther to lay me out.... I don't want any one else. I don't
+like the other woman."
+
+"Esther and me will lay you out, make your mind easy; none but we two
+shall touch you."
+
+Once more Esther wiped his forehead, and he signed to her how he wished
+the bed-clothes to be arranged, for he could no longer speak. Mrs. Collins
+whispered to Esther that she did not think that the end could be far off,
+and compelled by a morbid sort of curiosity she took a chair and sat down.
+Esther wiped away the little drops of sweat as they came upon his
+forehead; his chest and throat had to be wiped also, for they too were
+full of sweat. His eyes were fixed on the darkness and he moved his hand
+restlessly, and Esther always understood what he wanted. She gave him a
+little brandy-and-water, and when he could not take it from the glass she
+gave it to him with a spoon.
+
+The silence grew more solemn, and the clock on the mantelpiece striking
+ten sharp strokes did not interrupt it; and then, as Esther turned from
+the bedside for the brandy, Mrs. Collins's candle spluttered and went out;
+a little thread of smoke evaporated, leaving only a morsel of blackened
+wick; the flame had disappeared for ever, gone as if it had never been,
+and Esther saw darkness where there had been a light. Then she heard Mrs.
+Collins say--
+
+"I think it is all over, dear."
+
+The profile on the pillow seemed very little.
+
+"Hold up his head, so that if there is any breath it may come on the
+glass."
+
+"He's dead, right enough. You see, dear, there's not a trace of breath on
+the glass."
+
+"I'd like to say a prayer. Will you say a prayer with me?"
+
+"Yes, I feel as if I should like to myself; it eases the heart wonderful."
+
+
+
+
+XLV
+
+
+She stood on the platform watching the receding train. A few bushes hid
+the curve of the line; the white vapour rose above them, evaporating in
+the grey evening. A moment more and the last carriage would pass out of
+sight. The white gates swung slowly forward and closed over the line.
+
+An oblong box painted reddish brown lay on the seat beside her. A woman of
+seven or eight and thirty, stout and strongly built, short arms and
+hard-worked hands, dressed in dingy black skirt and a threadbare jacket
+too thin for the dampness of a November day. Her face was a blunt outline,
+and the grey eyes reflected all the natural prose of the Saxon.
+
+The porter told her that he would try to send her box up to Woodview
+to-morrow.... That was the way to Woodview, right up the lane. She could
+not miss it. She would find the lodge gate behind that clump of trees. And
+thinking how she could get her box to Woodview that evening, she looked at
+the barren strip of country lying between the downs and the shingle beach.
+The little town clamped about its deserted harbour seemed more than ever
+like falling to pieces like a derelict vessel, and when Esther passed over
+the level crossing she noticed that the line of little villas had not
+increased; they were as she had left them eighteen years ago, laurels,
+iron railing, antimacassars. It was about eighteen years ago, on a
+beautiful June day, that she had passed up this lane for the first time.
+At the very spot she was now passing she had stopped to wonder if she
+would be able to keep the place of kitchen-maid. She remembered regretting
+that she had not a new dress; she had hoped to be able to brighten up the
+best of her cotton prints with a bit of red ribbon. The sun was shining,
+and she had met William leaning over the paling in the avenue smoking his
+pipe. Eighteen years had gone by, eighteen years of labour, suffering,
+disappointment. A great deal had happened, so much that she could not
+remember it all. The situations she had been in; her life with that dear
+good soul, Miss Rice, then Fred Parsons, then William again; her marriage,
+the life in the public-house, money lost and money won, heart-breakings,
+death, everything that could happen had happened to her. Now it all seemed
+like a dream. But her boy remained to her. She had brought up her boy,
+thank God, she had been able to do that. But how had she done it? How
+often had she found herself within sight of the workhouse? The last time
+was no later than last week. Last week it had seemed to her that she would
+have to accept the workhouse. But she had escaped, and now here she was
+back at the very point from which she started, going back to Woodview,
+going back to Mrs. Barfield's service.
+
+William's illness and his funeral had taken Esther's last few pounds away
+from her, and when she and Jack came back from the cemetery she found that
+she had broken into her last sovereign. She clasped him to her bosom--he
+was a tall boy of fifteen--and burst into tears. But she did not tell him
+what she was crying for. She did not say, "God only knows how we shall
+find bread to eat next week;" she merely said, wiping away her tears, "We
+can't afford to live here any longer. It's too expensive for us now that
+father's gone." And they went to live in a slum for three-and-sixpence a
+week. If she had been alone in the world she would have gone into a
+situation, but she could not leave the boy, and so she had to look out for
+charing. It was hard to have to come down to this, particularly when she
+remembered that she had had a house and a servant of her own; but there
+was nothing for it but to look out for some charing, and get along as best
+she could until Jack was able to look after himself. But the various
+scrubbings and general cleaning that had come her way had been so badly
+paid that she soon found that she could not make both ends meet. She would
+have to leave her boy and go out as a general servant. And as her
+necessities were pressing, she accepted a situation in a coffee-shop in
+the London Road. She would give all her wages to Jack, seven shillings a
+week, and he would have to live on that. So long as she had her health she
+did not mind.
+
+It was a squat brick building with four windows that looked down on the
+pavement with a short-sighted stare. On each window was written in letters
+of white enamel, "Well-aired beds." A board nailed to a post by the
+side-door announced that tea and coffee were always ready. On the other
+side of the sign was an upholsterer's, and the vulgar brightness of the
+Brussels carpets seemed in keeping with the slop-like appearance of the
+coffeehouse.
+
+Sometimes a workman came in the morning; a couple more might come in about
+dinner-time. Sometimes they took rashers and bits of steak out of their
+pockets.
+
+"Won't you cook this for me, missis?"
+
+But it was not until about nine in the evening that the real business of
+the house began, and it continued till one, when the last straggler
+knocked for admittance. The house lived on its beds. The best rooms were
+sometimes let for eight shillings a night, and there were four beds which
+were let at fourpence a night in the cellar under the area where Esther
+stood by the great copper washing sheets, blankets, and counterpanes, when
+she was not cleaning the rooms upstairs. There was a double-bedded room
+underneath the kitchen, and over the landings, wherever a space could be
+found, the landlord, who was clever at carpentering work, had fitted up
+some sort of closet place that could be let as a bedroom. The house was a
+honeycomb. The landlord slept under the roof, and a corner had been found
+for his housekeeper, a handsome young woman, at the end of the passage.
+Esther and the children--the landlord was a widower--slept in the
+coffee-room upon planks laid across the tops of the high backs of the
+benches where the customers mealed. Mattresses and bedding were laid on
+these planks and the sleepers lay, their faces hardly two feet from the
+ceiling. Esther slept with the baby, a little boy of five; the two big
+boys slept at the other end of the room by the front door. The eldest was
+about fifteen, but he was only half-witted; and he helped in the
+housework, and could turn down the beds and see quicker than any one if
+the occupant had stolen sheet or blanket. Esther always remembered how he
+would raise himself up in bed in the early morning, rub the glass, and
+light a candle so that he could be seen from below. He shook his head if
+every bed was occupied, or signed with his fingers the prices of the beds
+if they had any to let.
+
+The landlord was a tall, thin man, with long features and hair turning
+grey. He was very quiet, and Esther was surprised one night at the
+abruptness with which he stopped a couple who were going upstairs.
+
+"Is that your wife?" he said.
+
+"Yes, she's my wife all right."
+
+"She don't look very old."
+
+"She's older than she looks."
+
+Then he said, half to Esther, half to his housekeeper, that it was hard to
+know what to do. If you asked them for their marriage certificates they'd
+be sure to show you something. The housekeeper answered that they paid
+well, and that was the principal thing. But when an attempt was made to
+steal the bedclothes the landlord and his housekeeper were more severe. As
+Esther was about to let a most respectable woman out of the front door,
+the idiot boy called down the stairs, "Stop her! There's a sheet missing."
+
+"Oh, what in the world is all this? I haven't got your sheet. Pray let me
+pass; I'm in a hurry."
+
+"I can't let you pass until the sheet is found."
+
+"You'll find it upstairs under the bed. It's got mislaid. I'm in a hurry."
+
+"Call in the police," shouted the idiot boy.
+
+"You'd better come upstairs and help me to find the sheet," said Esther.
+
+The woman hesitated a moment, and then walked up in front of Esther. When
+they were in the bedroom she shook out her petticoats, and the sheet fell
+on the floor.
+
+"There, now," said Esther, "a nice botheration you'd 've got me into. I
+should've had to pay for it."
+
+"Oh, I could pay for it; it was only because I'm not very well off at
+present."
+
+"Yes, you _will_ pay for it if you don't take care," said Esther.
+
+It was very soon after that Esther had her mother's books stolen from her.
+They had not been doing much business, and she had been put to sleep in
+one of the bedrooms. The room was suddenly wanted, and she had no time to
+move all her things, and when she went to make up the room she found that
+her mother's books and a pair of jet earrings that Fred had given her had
+been stolen. She could do nothing; the couple who had occupied the room
+were far away by this time. There was no hope of ever recovering her books
+and earrings, and the loss of these things caused her a great deal of
+unhappiness. The only little treasure she possessed were those earrings;
+now they were gone, she realised how utterly alone she was in the world.
+If her health were to break down to-morrow she would have to go to the
+workhouse. What would become of her boy? She was afraid to think; thinking
+did no good. She must not think, but must just work on, washing the
+bedclothes until she could wash no longer. Wash, wash, all the week long;
+and it was only by working on till one o'clock in the morning that she
+sometimes managed to get the Sabbath free from washing. Never, not even in
+the house in Chelsea, had she had such hard work, and she was not as
+strong now as she was then. But her courage did not give way until one
+Sunday Jack came to tell her that the people who employed him had sold
+their business.
+
+Then a strange weakness came over her. She thought of the endless week of
+work that awaited her in the cellar, the great copper on the fire, the
+heaps of soiled linen in the corner, the steam rising from the wash-tub,
+and she felt she had not sufficient strength to get through another week
+of such work. She looked at her son with despair in her eyes. She had
+whispered to him as he lay asleep under her shawl, a tiny infant, "There
+is nothing for us, my poor boy, but the workhouse," and the same thought
+rose up in her mind as she looked at him, a tall lad with large grey eyes
+and dark curling hair. But she did not trouble him with her despair. She
+merely said--
+
+"I don't know how we shall pull through, Jack. God will help us."
+
+"You're washing too hard, mother. You're wasting away. Do you know no one,
+mother, who could help us?"
+
+She looked at Jack fixedly, and she thought of Mrs. Barfield. Mrs.
+Barfield might be away in the South with her daughter. If she were at
+Woodview Esther felt sure that she would not refuse to help her. So Jack
+wrote at Esther's dictation, and before they expected an answer, a letter
+came from Mrs. Barfield saying that she remembered Esther perfectly well.
+She had just returned from the South. She was all alone at Woodview, and
+wanted a servant. Esther could come and take the place if she liked. She
+enclosed five pounds, and hoped that the money would enable Esther to
+leave London at once.
+
+But this returning to former conditions filled Esther with strange
+trouble. Her heart beat as she recognised the spire of the church between
+the trees, and the undulating line of downs behind the trees awakened
+painful recollections. She knew the white gate was somewhere in this
+plantation, but could not remember its exact position; and she took the
+road to the left instead of taking the road to the right, and had to
+retrace her steps. The gate had fallen from its hinge, and she had some
+difficulty in opening it. The lodge where the blind gatekeeper used to
+play the flute was closed; the park paling had not been kept in repair;
+wandering sheep and cattle had worn away the great holly hedge; and Esther
+noticed that in falling an elm had broken through the garden wall.
+
+When she arrived at the iron gate under the bunched evergreens, her steps
+paused. For this was where she had met William for the first time. He had
+taken her through the stables and pointed out to her Silver Braid's box.
+She remembered the horses going to the downs, horses coming from the
+downs--stabling and the sound of hoofs everywhere. But now silence. She
+could see that many a roof had fallen, and that ruins of outhouses filled
+the yard. She remembered the kitchen windows, bright in the setting sun,
+and the white-capped servants moving about the great white table. But now
+the shutters were up, nowhere a light; the knocker had disappeared from
+the door, and she asked herself how she was to get in. She even felt
+afraid.... Supposing she should not find Mrs. Barfield. She made her way
+through the shrubbery, tripping over fallen branches and trunks of trees;
+rooks rose out of the evergreens with a great clatter, her heart stood
+still, and she hardly dared to tear herself through the mass of underwood.
+At last she gained the lawn, and, still very frightened, sought for the
+bell. The socket plate hung loose on the wire, and only a faint tinkle
+came through the solitude of the empty house.
+
+At last footsteps and a light; the chained door was opened a little, and a
+voice asked who it was. Esther explained; the door was opened, and she
+stood face to face with her old mistress. Mrs. Barfield stood, holding the
+candle high, so that she could see Esther. Esther knew her at once. She
+had not changed very much. She kept her beautiful white teeth and her
+girlish smile; the pointed, vixen-like face had not altered in outline,
+but the reddish hair was so thin that it had to be parted on the side and
+drawn over the skull; her figure was delicate and sprightly as ever.
+Esther noticed all this, and Mrs. Barfield noticed that Esther had grown
+stouter. Her face was still pleasant to see, for it kept that look of
+blunt, honest nature which had always been its charm. She was now the
+thick-set working woman of forty, and she stood holding the hem of her
+jacket in her rough hands.
+
+"We'd better put the chain up, for I'm alone in the house."
+
+"Aren't you afraid, ma'am?"
+
+"A little, but there's nothing to steal. I asked the policeman to keep a
+look-out. Come into the library."
+
+There was the round table, the little green sofa, the piano, the parrot's
+cage, and the yellow-painted presses; and it seemed only a little while
+since she had been summoned to this room, since she had stood facing her
+mistress, her confession on her lips. It seemed like yesterday, and yet
+seventeen years and more had gone by. And all these years were now a sort
+of a blur in her mind--a dream, the connecting links of which were gone,
+and she stood face to face with her old mistress in the old room.
+
+"You've had a cold journey, Esther; you'd like some tea?"
+
+"Oh, don't trouble, ma'am."
+
+"It's no trouble; I should like some myself. The fire's out in the
+kitchen. We can boil the kettle here."
+
+They went through the baize door into the long passage. Mrs. Barfield told
+Esther where was the pantry, the kitchen, and the larder. Esther answered
+that she remembered quite well, and it seemed to her not a little strange
+that she should know these things. Mrs. Barfield said--
+
+"So you haven't forgotten Woodview, Esther?"
+
+"No, ma'am. It seems like yesterday.... But I'm afraid the damp has got
+into the kitchen, ma'am, the range is that neglected----"
+
+"Ah, Woodview isn't what it was."
+
+Mrs. Barfield told how she had buried her husband in the old village
+church. She had taken her daughter to Egypt; she had dwindled there till
+there was little more than a skeleton to lay in the grave.
+
+"Yes, ma'am, I know how it takes them, inch by inch. My husband died of
+consumption."
+
+They sat talking for hours. One thing led to another and Esther gradually
+told Mrs. Barfield the story of her life from the day they bade each other
+good-bye in the room they were now sitting in.
+
+"It is quite a romance, Esther."
+
+"It was a hard fight, and it isn't over yet, ma'am. It won't be over until
+I see him settled in some regular work. I hope I shall live to see him
+settled."
+
+They sat over the fire a long time without speaking. Mrs. Barfield said--
+
+"It must be getting on for bedtime."
+
+"I suppose it must, ma'am."
+
+She asked if she should sleep in the room she had once shared with
+Margaret Gale. Mrs. Barfield answered with a sigh that as all the bedrooms
+were empty Esther had better sleep in the room next to hers.
+
+
+
+
+XLVI
+
+
+Esther seemed to have quite naturally accepted Woodview as a final stage.
+Any further change in her life she did not seem to regard as possible or
+desirable. One of these days her boy would get settled; he would come down
+now and again to see her. She did not want any more than that. No, she did
+not find the place lonely. A young girl might, but she was no longer a
+young girl; she had her work to do, and when it was done she was glad to
+sit down to rest.
+
+And, dressed in long cloaks, the women went for walks together; sometimes
+they went up the hill, sometimes into Southwick to make some little
+purchases. On Sundays they walked to Beeding to attend meeting. And they
+came home along the winter roads, the peace and happiness of prayer upon
+their faces, holding their skirts out of the mud, unashamed of their
+common boots. They made no acquaintances, seeming to find in each other
+all necessary companionship. Their heads bent a little forward, they
+trudged home, talking of what they were in the habit of talking, that
+another tree had been blown down, that Jack was now earning good
+money--ten shillings a week. Esther hoped it would last. Or else Esther
+told her mistress that she had heard that one of Mr. Arthur's horses had
+won a race. He lived in the North of England, where he had a small
+training stable, and his mother never heard of him except through the
+sporting papers. "He hasn't been here for four years," Mrs. Barfield said;
+"he hates the place; he wouldn't care if I were to burn it down
+to-morrow.... However, I do the best I can, hoping that one day he'll
+marry and come and live here."
+
+Mr. Arthur--that was how Mrs. Barfield and Esther spoke of him--did not
+draw any income from the estate. The rents only sufficed to pay the
+charges and the widow's jointure. All the land was let; the house he had
+tried to let, but it had been found impossible to find a tenant, unless
+Mr. Arthur would expend some considerable sum in putting the house and
+grounds into a state of proper repair. This he did not care to do; he said
+that he found race-horses a more profitable speculation. Besides, even the
+park had been let on lease; nothing remained to him but the house and lawn
+and garden; he could no longer gallop a horse on the hill without
+somebody's leave, so he didn't care what became of the place. His mother
+might go on living there, keeping things together as she called it; he did
+not mind what she did as long as she didn't bother him. So did he express
+himself regarding Woodview on the rare occasion of his visits, and when he
+troubled to answer his mother's letters. Mrs. Barfield, whose thoughts
+were limited to the estate, was pained by his indifference; she gradually
+ceased to consult him, and when Beeding was too far for her to walk she
+had the furniture removed from the drawing-room and a long deal table
+placed there instead. She had not asked herself if Arthur would object to
+her inviting a few brethren of the neighbourhood to her house for meeting,
+or publishing the meetings by notices posted on the lodge gate.
+
+One day Mrs. Barfield and Esther were walking in the avenue, when, to
+their surprise, they saw Mr. Arthur open the white gate and come through.
+The mother hastened forward to meet her son, but paused, dismayed by the
+anger that looked out of his eyes. He did not like the notices, and she
+was sorry that he was annoyed. She didn't think that he would mind them,
+and she hastened by his side, pleading her excuses. But to her great
+sorrow Arthur did not seem to be able to overcome his annoyance. He
+refused to listen, and continued his reproaches, saying the things that he
+knew would most pain her.
+
+He did not care whether the trees stood or fell, whether the cement
+remained upon the walls or dropped from them; he didn't draw a penny of
+income from the place, and did not care a damn what became of it. He
+allowed her to live there, she got her jointure out of the property, and
+he didn't want to interfere with her, but what he could not stand was the
+snuffy little folk from the town coming round his house. The Barfields at
+least were county, and he wished Woodview to remain county as long as the
+walls held together. He wasn't a bit ashamed of all this ruin. You could
+receive the Prince of Wales in a ruin, but he wouldn't care to ask him
+into a dissenting chapel. Mrs. Barfield answered that she didn't see how
+the mere assembling of a few friends in prayer could disgrace a house. She
+did not know that he objected to her asking them. She would not ask them
+any more. The only thing was that there was no place nearer than Beeding
+where they could meet, and she could no longer walk so far. She would have
+to give up meeting.
+
+"It seems to me a strange taste to want to kneel down with a lot of little
+shop-keepers.... Is this where you kneel?" he said, pointing to the long
+deal table. "The place is a regular little Bethel."
+
+"Our Lord said that when a number should gather together for prayer that
+He would be among them. Those are true words, and as we get old we feel
+more and more the want of this communion of spirit. It is only then that
+we feel that we're really with God.... The folk that you despise are equal
+in His sight. And living here alone, what should I be without prayer? and
+Esther, after her life of trouble and strife, what would she be without
+prayer?... It is our consolation."
+
+"I think one should choose one's company for prayer as for everything
+else. Besides, what do you get out of it? Miracles don't happen nowadays."
+
+"You're very young, Arthur, and you cannot feel the want of prayer as we
+do--two old women living in this lonely house. As age and solitude
+overtake us, the realities of life float away and we become more and more
+sensible to the mystery which surrounds us. And our Lord Jesus Christ gave
+us love and prayer so that we might see a little further."
+
+An expression of great beauty came upon her face, that unconscious
+resignation which, like the twilight, hallows and transforms. In such
+moments the humblest hearts are at one with nature, and speaks out of the
+eternal wisdom of things. So even this common racing man was touched, and
+he said--
+
+"I'm sorry if I said anything to hurt your religious feelings."
+
+Mrs. Barfield did not answer.
+
+"Do you not accept my apologies, mother?"
+
+"My dear boy, what do I care for your apologies; what are they to me? All
+I think of now is your conversion to Christ. Nothing else matters. I shall
+always pray for that."
+
+"You may have whom you like up here; I don't mind if it makes you happy.
+I'm ashamed of myself. Don't let's say any more about it. I'm only down
+for the day. I'm going home to-morrow."
+
+"Home, Arthur! this is your home. I can't bear to hear you speak of any
+other place as your home."
+
+"Well, mother, then I shall say that I'm going back to business
+to-morrow."
+
+Mrs. Barfield sighed.
+
+
+
+
+XLVII
+
+
+Days, weeks, months passed away, and the two women came to live more and
+more like friends and less like mistress and maid. Not that Esther ever
+failed to use the respectful "ma'am" when she addressed her mistress, nor
+did they ever sit down to a meal at the same table. But these slight
+social distinctions, which habit naturally preserved, and which it would
+have been disagreeable to both to forego, were no check on the intimacy of
+their companionship. In the evening they sat in the library sewing, or
+Mrs. Barfield read aloud, or they talked of their sons. On Sundays they
+had their meetings. The folk came from quite a distance, and sometimes as
+many as five-and-twenty knelt round the deal table in the drawing room,
+and Esther felt that these days were the happiest of her life. She was
+content in the peaceful present, and she knew that Mrs. Barfield would not
+leave her unprovided for. She was almost free from anxiety. But Jack did
+not seem to be able to obtain regular employment in London, and her wages
+were so small that she could not help him much. So the sight of his
+handwriting made her tremble, and she sometimes did not show the letter to
+Mrs. Barfield for some hours after.
+
+One Sunday morning, after meeting, as the two women were going for their
+walk up the hill, Esther said--
+
+"I've a letter from my boy, ma'am. I hope it is to tell me that he's got
+back to work."
+
+"I'm afraid I shan't be able to read it, Esther. I haven't my glasses with
+me."
+
+"It don't matter, ma'am--it'll keep."
+
+"Give it to me--his writing is large and legible. I think I can read it.
+'My dear mother, the place I told you of in my last letter was given away,
+so I must go on in the toy-shop till something better turns up. I only get
+six shillings a week and my tea, and can't quite manage on that.' Then
+something--something--'pay three and sixpence a week'--something--'bed'
+--something--something."
+
+"I know, ma'am; he shares a bed with the eldest boy."
+
+"Yes, that's it; and he wants to know if you can help him. 'I don't like
+to trouble you, mother; but it is hard for a boy to get his living in
+London.'"
+
+"But I've sent him all my money. I shan't have any till next quarter."
+
+"I'll lend you some, Esther. We can't leave the boy to starve. He can't
+live on two and sixpence a week."
+
+"You're very good, ma'am; but I don't like to take your money. We shan't
+be able to get the garden cleared this winter."
+
+"We shall manage somehow, Esther. The garden must wait. The first thing to
+do is to see that your boy doesn't want for food."
+
+The women resumed their walk up the hill. When they reached the top Mrs.
+Barfield said--
+
+"I haven't heard from Mr. Arthur for months. I envy you, Esther, those
+letters asking for a little money. What's the use of money to us except to
+give it to our children? Helping others, that is the only happiness."
+
+At the end of the coombe, under the shaws, stood the old red-tiled
+farmhouse in which Mrs. Barfield had been born. Beyond it, downlands
+rolled on and on, reaching half-way up the northern sky. Mrs. Barfield was
+thinking of the days when her husband used to jump off his cob and walk
+beside her through those gorse patches on his way to the farmhouse. She
+had come from the farmhouse beneath the shaws to go to live in an Italian
+house sheltered by a fringe of trees. That was her adventure. She knew it,
+and she turned from the view of the downs to the view of the sea. The
+plantations of Woodview touched the horizon, then the line dipped, and
+between the top branches of a row of elms appeared the roofs of the town.
+Over a long spider-legged bridge a train wriggled like a snake, the bleak
+river flowed into the harbour, and the shingle banks saved the low land
+from inundation. Then the train passed behind the square, dogmatic tower
+of the village church. Her husband lay beneath the chancel; her father,
+mother, all her relations, lay in the churchyard. She would go there in a
+few years.... Her daughter lay far away, far away in Egypt. Upon this
+downland all her life had been passed, all her life except the few months
+she had spent by her daughter's bedside in Egypt. She had come from that
+coombe, from that farmhouse beneath the shaws, and had only crossed the
+down.
+
+And this barren landscape meant as much to Esther as to her mistress. It
+was on these downs that she had walked with William. He had been born and
+bred on these downs; but he lay far away in Brompton Cemetery; it was she
+who had come back! and in her simple way she too wondered at the mystery
+of destiny.
+
+As they descended the hill Mrs. Barfield asked Esther if she ever heard of
+Fred Parsons.
+
+"No, ma'am, I don't know what's become of him."
+
+"And if you were to meet him again, would you care to marry him?"
+
+"Marry and begin life over again! All the worry and bother over again! Why
+should I marry?--all I live for now is to see my boy settled in life."
+
+The women walked on in silence, passing by long ruins of stables,
+coach-houses, granaries, rickyards, all in ruin and decay. The women
+paused and went towards the garden; and removing some pieces of the broken
+gate they entered a miniature wilderness. The espalier apple-trees had
+disappeared beneath climbing weeds, and long briars had shot out from the
+bushes, leaving few traces of the former walks--a damp, dismal place that
+the birds seemed to have abandoned. Of the greenhouse only some broken
+glass and a black broken chimney remained. A great elm had carried away a
+large portion of the southern wall, and under the dripping trees an aged
+peacock screamed for his lost mate.
+
+"I don't suppose that Jack will be able to find any more paying employment
+this winter. We must send him six shillings a week; that, with what he is
+earning, will make twelve; he'll be able to live nicely on that."
+
+"I should think he would indeed. But, then, what about the wages of them
+who was to have cleared the gardens for us?"
+
+"We shan't be able to get the whole garden cleared, but Jim will be able
+to get a piece ready for us to sow some spring vegetables, not a large
+piece, but enough for us. The first thing to do will be to cut down those
+apple-trees. I'm afraid we shall have to cut down that walnut; nothing
+could grow beneath it. Did any one ever see such a mass of weed and briar?
+Yet it is only about ten years since we left Woodview, and the garden was
+let run to waste. Nature does not take long, a few years, a very few
+years."
+
+
+
+
+XLVIII
+
+
+All the winter the north wind roamed on the hills; many trees fell in the
+park, and at the end of February Woodview seemed barer and more desolate
+than ever; broken branches littered the roadway, and the tall trunks
+showed their wounds. The women sat over their fire in the evening
+listening to the blast, cogitating the work that awaited them as soon as
+the weather showed signs of breaking.
+
+Mrs. Barfield had laid by a few pounds during the winter; and the day that
+Jim cleared out the first piece of espalier trees she spent entirely in
+the garden, hardly able to take her eyes off him. But the pleasure of the
+day was in a measure spoilt for her by the knowledge that on that day her
+son was riding in the great steeplechase. She was full of fear for his
+safety; she did not sleep that night, and hurried down at an early hour to
+the garden to ask Jim for the newspaper which she had told him to bring
+her. He took some time to extract the paper from his torn pocket.
+
+"He isn't in the first three," said Mrs. Barfield. "I always know that
+he's safe if he's in the first three. We must turn to the account of the
+race to see if there were any accidents."
+
+She turned over the paper.
+
+"Thank God, he's safe," she said; "his horse ran fourth."
+
+"You worry yourself without cause, ma'am. A good rider like him don't meet
+with accidents."
+
+"The best riders are often killed, Esther. I never have an easy moment
+when I hear he's going to ride in these races. Supposing one day I were to
+read that he was carried back on a shutter."
+
+"We mustn't let our thoughts run on such things, ma'am. If a war was to
+break out to-morrow, what should I do? His regiment would be ordered out.
+It is sad to think that he had to enlist. But, as he said, he couldn't go
+on living on me any longer. Poor boy! ...We must keep on working, doing
+the best we can for them. There are all sorts of chances, and we can only
+pray that God may spare them."
+
+"Yes, Esther, that's all we can do. Work on, work on to the end.... But
+your boy is coming to see you to-day."
+
+"Yes, ma'am, he'll be here by twelve o'clock.'"
+
+"You're luckier than I am. I wonder if I shall ever see my boy again."
+
+"Yes, ma'am, of course you will. He'll come back to you right enough one
+of these days. There's a good time coming; that's what I always says....
+And now I've got work to do in the house. Are you going to stop here, or
+are you coming in with me? It'll do you no good standing about in the wet
+clay."
+
+Mrs. Barfield smiled and nodded, and Esther paused at the broken gate to
+watch her mistress, who stood superintending the clearing away of ten
+years' growth of weeds, as much interested in the prospect of a few peas
+and cabbages as in former days she had been in the culture of expensive
+flowers. She stood on what remained of a gravel walk, the heavy clay
+clinging to her boots, watching Jim piling weeds upon his barrow. Would he
+be able to finish the plot of ground by the end of the week? What should
+they do with that great walnut-tree? Nothing would grow underneath it. Jim
+was afraid that he would not be able to cut it down and remove it without
+help. Mrs. Barfield suggested sawing away some of the branches, but Jim
+was not sure that the expedient would prove of much avail. In his opinion
+the tree took all the goodness out of the soil, and that while it stood
+they could not expect a very great show of vegetables. Mrs. Barfield asked
+if the sale of the tree trunk would indemnify her for the cost of cutting
+it down. Jim paused in his work, and, leaning on his spade, considered if
+there was any one in the town, who, for the sake of the timber, would cut
+the tree down and take it away for nothing. There ought to be some such
+person in town; if it came to that, Mrs. Barfield ought to receive
+something for the tree. Walnut was a valuable wood, was extensively used
+by cabinetmakers, and so on, until Mrs. Barfield begged him to get on with
+his digging.
+
+At twelve o'clock Esther and Mrs. Barfield walked out on the lawn. A loud
+wind came up from the sea, and it shook the evergreens as if it were angry
+with them. A rook carried a stick to the tops of the tall trees, and the
+women drew their cloaks about them. The train passed across the vista, and
+the women wondered how long it would take Jack to walk from the station.
+Then another rook stooped to the edge of the plantation, gathered a twig,
+and carried it away. The wind was rough; it caught the evergreens
+underneath and blew them out like umbrellas; the grass had not yet begun
+to grow, and the grey sea harmonised with the grey-green land. The women
+waited on the windy lawn, their skirts blown against their legs, keeping
+their hats on with difficulty. It was too cold for standing still. They
+turned and walked a few steps towards the house, and then looked round.
+
+A tall soldier came through the gate. He wore a long red cloak, and a
+small cap jauntily set on the side of his close-clipped head. Esther
+uttered a little exclamation, and ran to meet him. He took his mother in
+his arms, kissed her, and they walked towards Mrs. Barfield together. All
+was forgotten in the happiness of the moment--the long fight for his life,
+and the possibility that any moment might declare him to be mere food for
+powder and shot. She was only conscious that she had accomplished her
+woman's work--she had brought him up to man's estate; and that was her
+sufficient reward. What a fine fellow he was! She did not know he was so
+handsome, and blushing with pleasure and pride she glanced shyly at him
+out of the corners of her eyes as she introduced him to her mistress.
+
+"This is my son, ma'am."
+
+Mrs. Barfield held out her hand to the young soldier.
+
+"I have heard a great deal about you from your mother."
+
+"And I of you, ma'am. You've been very kind to my mother. I don't know how
+to thank you."
+
+And in silence they walked towards the house.
+
+
+
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, ESTHER WATERS ***
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+The Project Gutenberg EBook of Esther Waters, by George Moore
+
+Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the
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+Title: Esther Waters
+
+Author: George Moore
+
+Release Date: May, 2005  [EBook #8157]
+[This file was first posted on June 22, 2003]
+
+Edition: 10
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, ESTHER WATERS ***
+
+
+
+
+E-text prepared by Eric Eldred, Clay Massei, Charles Franks, and the Online
+Distributed Proofreading Team
+
+
+
+Esther Waters
+
+by
+
+GEORGE MOORE
+
+
+
+
+
+
+1899
+
+
+I
+
+
+She stood on the platform watching the receding train. A few bushes hid
+the curve of the line; the white vapour rose above them, evaporating in
+the pale evening. A moment more and the last carriage would pass out of
+sight. The white gates swung forward slowly and closed over the line.
+
+An oblong box painted reddish brown and tied with a rough rope lay on the
+seat beside her. The movement of her back and shoulders showed that the
+bundle she carried was a heavy one, the sharp bulging of the grey linen
+cloth that the weight was dead. She wore a faded yellow dress and a black
+jacket too warm for the day. A girl of twenty, short, strongly built, with
+short, strong arms. Her neck was plump, and her hair of so ordinary a
+brown that it passed unnoticed. The nose was too thick, but the nostrils
+were well formed. The eyes were grey, luminous, and veiled with dark
+lashes. But it was only when she laughed that her face lost its habitual
+expression, which was somewhat sullen; then it flowed with bright humour.
+She laughed now, showing a white line of almond-shaped teeth. The porter
+had asked her if she were afraid to leave her bundle with her box. Both,
+he said, would go up together in the donkey-cart. The donkey-cart came
+down every evening to fetch parcels.... That was the way to Woodview,
+right up the lane. She could not miss it. She would find the lodge gate in
+that clump of trees. The man lingered, for she was an attractive girl, but
+the station-master called him away to remove some luggage.
+
+It was a barren country. Once the sea had crawled at high tide half-way up
+the sloping sides of those downs. It would do so now were it not for the
+shingle bank which its surging had thrown up along the coast. Between the
+shingle bank and the shore a weedy river flowed and the little town stood
+clamped together, its feet in the water's edge. There were decaying
+shipyards about the harbour, and wooden breakwaters stretched long, thin
+arms seawards for ships that did not come. On the other side of the
+railway apple blossoms showed above a white-washed wall; some market
+gardening was done in the low-lying fields, whence the downs rose in
+gradual ascents. On the first slope there was a fringe of trees. That was
+Woodview.
+
+The girl gazed on this bleak country like one who saw it for the first
+time. She saw without perceiving, for her mind was occupied with personal
+consideration. She found it difficult to decide whether she should leave
+her bundle with her box. It hung heavy in her hand, and she did not know
+how far Woodview was from the station. At the end of the platform the
+station-master took her ticket, and she passed over the level-crossing
+still undecided. The lane began with iron railings, laurels, and French
+windows. She had been in service in such houses, and knew if she were
+engaged in any of them what her duties would be. But the life in Woodview
+was a great dream, and she could not imagine herself accomplishing all
+that would be required of her. There would be a butler, a footman, and a
+page; she would not mind the page--but the butler and footman, what would
+they think? There would be an upper-housemaid and an under-housemaid, and
+perhaps a lady's-maid, and maybe that these ladies had been abroad with
+the family. She had heard of France and Germany. Their conversation would,
+no doubt, turn on such subjects. Her silence would betray her. They would
+ask her what situations she had been in, and when they learned the truth
+she would have to leave disgraced. She had not sufficient money to pay for
+a ticket to London. But what excuse could she give to Lady Elwin, who had
+rescued her from Mrs. Dunbar and got her the place of kitchen-maid at
+Woodview? She must not go back. Her father would curse her, and perhaps
+beat her mother and her too. Ah! he would not dare to strike her again,
+and the girl's face flushed with shameful remembrance. And her little
+brothers and sisters would cry if she came back. They had little enough to
+eat as it was. Of course she must not go back. How silly of her to think
+of such a thing!
+
+She smiled, and her face became as bright as the month: it was the first
+day of June. Still she would be glad when the first week was over. If she
+had only a dress to wear in the afternoons! The old yellow thing on her
+back would never do. But one of her cotton prints was pretty fresh; she
+must get a bit of red ribbon--that would make a difference. She had heard
+that the housemaids in places like Woodview always changed their dresses
+twice a day, and on Sundays went out in silk mantles and hats in the
+newest fashion. As for the lady's-maid, she of course had all her
+mistress's clothes, and walked with the butler. What would such people
+think of a little girl like her! Her heart sank at the thought, and she
+sighed, anticipating much bitterness and disappointment. Even when her
+first quarter's wages came due she would hardly be able to buy herself a
+dress: they would want the money at home. Her quarter's wages! A month's
+wages most like, for she'd never be able to keep the place. No doubt all
+those fields belonged to the Squire, and those great trees too; they must
+be fine folk, quite as fine as Lady Elwin--finer, for she lived in a house
+like those near the station.
+
+On both sides of the straight road there were tall hedges, and the
+nursemaids lay in the wide shadows on the rich summer grass, their
+perambulators at a little distance. The hum of the town died out of the
+ear, and the girl continued to imagine the future she was about to enter
+on with increasing distinctness. Looking across the fields she could see
+two houses, one in grey stone, the other in red brick with a gable covered
+with ivy; and between them, lost in the north, the spire of a church. On
+questioning a passer-by she learnt that the first house was the Rectory,
+the second was Woodview Lodge. If that was the lodge, what must the house
+be?
+
+Two hundred yards further on the road branched, passing on either side of
+a triangular clump of trees, entering the sea road; and under the leaves
+the air was green and pleasant, and the lungs of the jaded town girl drew
+in a deep breath of health. Behind the plantation she found a large
+white-painted wooden gate. It opened into a handsome avenue, and the
+gatekeeper told her to keep straight on, and to turn to the left when she
+got to the top. She had never seen anything like it before, and stopped
+to admire the uncouth arms of elms, like rafters above the roadway; pink
+clouds showed through, and the monotonous dove seemed the very heart of
+the silence.
+
+Her doubts returned; she never would be able to keep the place. The avenue
+turned a little, and she came suddenly upon a young man leaning over the
+paling, smoking his pipe.
+
+"Please sir, is this the way to Woodview?"
+
+"Yes, right up through the stables, round to the left." Then, noticing the
+sturdily-built figure, yet graceful in its sturdiness, and the bright
+cheeks, he said, "You look pretty well done; that bundle is a heavy one,
+let me hold it for you."
+
+"I am a bit tired," she said, leaning the bundle on the paling. "They told
+me at the station that the donkey-cart would bring up my box later on."
+
+"Ah, then you are the new kitchen-maid? What's your name?"
+
+"Esther Waters."
+
+"My mother's the cook here; you'll have to mind your p's and q's or else
+you'll be dropped on. The devil of a temper while it lasts, but not a bad
+sort if you don't put her out."
+
+"Are you in service here?"
+
+"No, but I hope to be afore long. I could have been two years ago, but
+mother did not like me to put on livery, and I don't know how I'll face
+her when I come running down to go out with the carriage."
+
+"Is the place vacant?" Esther asked, raising her eyes timidly, looking at
+him sideways.
+
+"Yes, Jim Story got the sack about a week ago. When he had taken a drop
+he'd tell every blessed thing that was done in the stables. They'd get him
+down to the 'Red Lion' for the purpose; of course the squire couldn't
+stand that."
+
+"And shall you take the place?"
+
+"Yes. I'm not going to spend my life carrying parcels up and down the
+King's Road, Brighton, if I can squeeze in here. It isn't so much the
+berth that I care about, but the advantages, information fresh from the
+fountain-head. You won't catch me chattering over the bar at the 'Red
+Lion' and having every blessed word I say wired up to London and printed
+next morning in all the papers."
+
+Esther wondered what he was talking about, and, looking at him, she saw a
+low, narrow forehead, a small, round head, a long nose, a pointed chin,
+and rather hollow, bloodless cheeks. Notwithstanding the shallow chest, he
+was powerfully built, the long arms could deal a swinging blow. The low
+forehead and the lustreless eyes told of a slight, unimaginative brain,
+but regular features and a look of natural honesty made William Latch a
+man that ten men and eighteen women out of twenty would like.
+
+"I see you have got books in that bundle," he said at the end of a long
+silence. "Fond of readin'?"
+
+"They are mother's books," she replied, hastily. "I was afraid to leave
+them at the station, for it would be easy for anyone to take one out, and
+I should not miss it until I undid the bundle."
+
+"Sarah Tucker--that's the upper-housemaid--will be after you to lend them
+to her. She is a wonderful reader. She has read every story that has come
+out in _Bow Bells_ for the last three years, and you can't puzzle her, try
+as you will. She knows all the names, can tell you which lord it was that
+saved the girl from the carriage when the 'osses were tearing like mad
+towards a precipice a 'undred feet deep, and all about the baronet for
+whose sake the girl went out to drown herself in the moonlight, I 'aven't
+read the books mesel', but Sarah and me are great pals,"
+
+Esther trembled lest he might ask her again if she were fond of reading;
+she could not read. Noticing a change in the expression of her face, he
+concluded that she was disappointed to hear that he liked Sarah and
+regretted his indiscretion.
+
+"Good friends, you know--no more. Sarah and me never hit it off; she will
+worry me with the stories she reads. I don't know what is your taste, but
+I likes something more practical; the little 'oss in there, he is more to
+my taste." Fearing he might speak again of her books, she mustered up
+courage and said--
+
+"They told me at the station that the donkey-cart would bring up my box."
+
+"The donkey-cart isn't going to the station to-night--you'll want your
+things, to be sure. I'll see the coachman; perhaps he is going down with
+the trap. But, golly! it has gone the half-hour. I shall catch it for
+keeping you talking, and my mother has been expecting you for the last
+hour. She hasn't a soul to help her, and six people coming to dinner. You
+must say the train was late."
+
+"Let us go, then," cried Esther. "Will you show me the way?"
+
+Over the iron gate which opened into the pleasure-ground, thick branches
+of evergreen oaks made an arch of foliage, and between the trees a glimpse
+was caught of the angles and urns of an Italian house--distant about a
+hundred yards. A high brick wall separated the pleasure-ground from the
+stables, and as William and Esther turned to the left and walked up the
+roadway he explained that the numerous buildings were stables. They passed
+by many doors, hearing the trampling of horses and the rattling of chains.
+Then the roadway opened into a handsome yard overlooked by the house, the
+back premises of which had been lately rebuilt in red brick. There were
+gables and ornamental porches, and through the large kitchen windows the
+servants were seen passing to and fro. At the top of this yard was a gate.
+It led into the park, and, like the other gate, was overhung by bunched
+evergreens. A string of horses came towards this gate, and William ran to
+open it. The horses were clothed in grey cloth. They wore hoods, and
+Esther noticed the black round eyes looking through the eyelet holes. They
+were ridden by small, ugly boys, who swung their little legs, and struck
+them with ash plants when they reached their heads forward chawing at the
+bits. When William returned he said, "Look there, the third one; that's
+he--that's Silver Braid."
+
+An impatient knocking at the kitchen window interrupted his admiration,
+and William, turning quickly, said, "Mind you say the train was late;
+don't say I kept you, or you'll get me into the devil of a pickle. This
+way." The door let into a wide passage covered with coconut matting. They
+walked a few yards; the kitchen was the first door, and the handsome room
+she found herself in did not conform to anything that Esther had seen or
+heard of kitchens. The range almost filled one end of the room, and on it
+a dozen saucepans were simmering; the dresser reached to the ceiling, and
+was covered with a multitude of plates and dishes. Esther thought how she
+must strive to keep it in its present beautiful condition, and the elegant
+white-capped servants passing round the white table made her feel her own
+insignificance.
+
+"This is the new kitchen-maid, mother."
+
+"Ah, is it indeed?" said Mrs. Latch looking up from the tray of tartlets
+which she had taken from the oven and was filling with jam. Esther noticed
+the likeness that Mrs. Latch bore to her son. The hair was iron grey, and,
+as in William's face, the nose was the most prominent feature.
+
+"I suppose you'll tell me the train was late?"
+
+"Yes, mother, the train was a quarter of an hour late," William chimed in.
+
+"I didn't ask you, you idle, lazy, good-for-nothing vagabond. I suppose it
+was you who kept the girl all this time. Six people coming to dinner, and
+I've been the whole day without a kitchen-maid. If Margaret Gale hadn't
+come down to help me, I don't know where we should be; as it is, the
+dinner will be late."
+
+The two housemaids, both in print dresses, stood listening. Esther's face
+clouded, and when Mrs. Latch told her to take her things off and set to
+and prepare the vegetables, so that she might see what she was made of,
+Esther did not answer at once. She turned away, saying under her breath,
+"I must change my dress, and my box has not come up from the station yet."
+
+"You can tuck your dress up, and Margaret Gale will lend you her apron."
+
+Esther hesitated.
+
+"What you've got on don't look as if it could come to much damage. Come,
+now, set to."
+
+The housemaids burst into loud laughter, and then a sullen look of dogged
+obstinacy passed over and settled on Esther's face, even to the point of
+visibly darkening the white and rose complexion.
+
+
+
+
+II
+
+
+A sloping roof formed one end of the room, and through a broad, single
+pane the early sunlight fell across a wall papered with blue and white
+flowers. Print dresses hung over the door. On the wall were two
+pictures--a girl with a basket of flowers, the coloured supplement of an
+illustrated newspaper, and an old and dilapidated last century print. On
+the chimney-piece there were photographs of the Gale family in Sunday
+clothes, and the green vases that Sarah had given Margaret on her
+birthday.
+
+And in a low, narrow iron bed, pushed close against the wall in the full
+glare of the sunlight, Esther lay staring half-awake, her eyes open but
+still dim with dreams. She looked at the clock. It was not yet time to get
+up, and she raised her arms as if to cross them behind her head, but a
+sudden remembrance of yesterday arrested her movement, and a sudden shadow
+settled on her face. She had refused to prepare the vegetables. She hadn't
+answered, and the cook had turned her out of the kitchen. She had rushed
+from the house under the momentary sway of hope that she might succeed in
+walking back to London; but William had overtaken her in the avenue, he
+had expostulated with her, he had refused to allow her to pass. She had
+striven to tear herself from him, and, failing, had burst into tears.
+However, he had been kind, and at last she had allowed him to lead her
+back, and all the time he had filled her ears with assurances that he
+would make it all right with his mother. But Mrs. Latch had closed her
+kitchen against her, and she had had to go to her room. Even if they paid
+her fare back to London, how was she to face her mother? What would father
+say? He would drive her from the house. But she had done nothing wrong.
+Why did cook insult her?
+
+As she pulled on her stockings she stopped and wondered if she should
+awake Margaret Gale. Margaret's bed stood in the shadow of the obliquely
+falling wall; and she lay heavily, one arm thrown forward, her short,
+square face raised to the light. She slept so deeply that for a moment
+Esther felt afraid. Suddenly the eyes opened, and Margaret looked at her
+vaguely, as if out of eternity. Raising her hands to her eyes she said--
+
+"What time is it?"
+
+"It has just gone six."
+
+"Then there's plenty of time; we needn't be down before seven. You get on
+with your dressing; there's no use in my getting up till you are
+done--we'd be tumbling over each other. This is no room to put two girls
+to sleep in--one glass not much bigger than your hand. You'll have to get
+your box under your bed.... In my last place I had a beautiful room with a
+Brussels carpet, and a marble washstand. I wouldn't stay here three days
+if it weren't----" The girl laughed and turned lazily over.
+
+Esther did not answer.
+
+"Now, isn't it a grubby little room to put two girls to sleep in? What was
+your last place like?"
+
+Esther answered that she had hardly been in service before. Margaret was
+too much engrossed in her own thoughts to notice the curtness of the
+answer.
+
+"There's only one thing to be said for Woodview, and that is the eating;
+we have anything we want, and we'd have more than we want if it weren't
+for the old cook: she must have her little bit out of everything and she
+cuts us short in our bacon in the morning. But that reminds me! You have
+set the cook against you; you'll have to bring her over to your side if
+you want to remain here."
+
+"Why should I be asked to wash up the moment I came in the house, before
+even I had time to change my dress."
+
+"It was hard on you. She always gets as much as she can out of her
+kitchen-maid. But last night she was pressed, there was company to dinner.
+I'd have lent you an apron, and the dress you had on wasn't of much
+account."
+
+"It isn't because a girl is poor----"
+
+"Oh, I didn't mean that; I know well enough what it is to be hard up."
+Margaret clasped her stays across her plump figure and walked to the door
+for her dress. She was a pretty girl, with a snub nose and large, clear
+eyes. Her hair was lighter in tone than Esther's, and she had brushed it
+from her forehead so as to obviate the defect of her face, which was too
+short.
+
+Esther was on her knees saying her prayers when Margaret turned to the
+light to button her boots.
+
+"Well, I never!" she exclaimed. "Do you think prayers any good?"
+
+Esther looked up angrily.
+
+"I don't want to say anything against saying prayers, but I wouldn't
+before the others if I was you--they'll chaff dreadful, and call you
+Creeping Jesus."
+
+"Oh, Margaret, I hope they won't do anything so wicked. But I am afraid I
+shan't be long here, so it doesn't matter what they think of _me_."
+
+When they got downstairs they opened the windows and doors, and Margaret
+took Esther round, showing her where the things were kept, and telling her
+for how many she must lay the table. At that moment a number of boys and
+men came clattering up the passage. They cried to Esther to hurry up,
+declaring that they were late. Esther did not know who they were, but she
+served them as best she might. They breakfasted hastily and rushed away to
+the stables; and they had not been long gone when the squire and his son
+Arthur appeared in the yard. The Gaffer, as he was called, was a man of
+about medium height. He wore breeches and gaiters, and in them his legs
+seemed grotesquely thick. His son was a narrow-chested, undersized young
+man, absurdly thin and hatchet-faced. He was also in breeches and gaiters,
+and to his boots were attached long-necked spurs. His pale yellow hair
+gave him a somewhat ludicrous appearance, as he stood talking to his
+father, but the moment he prepared to get into the saddle he seemed quite
+different. He rode a beautiful chestnut horse, a little too thin, Esther
+thought, and the ugly little boys were mounted on horses equally thin. The
+squire rode a stout grey cob, and he watched the chestnut, and was also
+interested in the brown horse that walked with its head in the air,
+pulling at the smallest of all the boys, a little freckled, red-headed
+fellow.
+
+"That's Silver Braid, the brown horse, the one that the Demon is riding;
+the chestnut is Bayleaf, Ginger is riding him: he won the City and
+Suburban. Oh, we did have a fine time then, for we all had a bit on. The
+betting was twenty to one, and I won twelve and six pence. Grover won
+thirty shillings. They say that John--that's the butler--won a little
+fortune; but he is so close no one knows what he has on. Cook wouldn't
+have anything on; she says that betting is the curse of servants--you know
+what is said, that it was through betting that Mrs. Latch's husband got
+into trouble. He was steward here, you know, in the late squire's time."
+
+Then Margaret told all she had heard on the subject. The late Mr. Latch
+had been a confidential steward, and large sums of money were constantly
+passing through his hands for which he was never asked for any exact
+account. Contrary to all expectation, Marksman was beaten for the Chester
+Cup, and the squire's property was placed under the charge of a receiver.
+Under the new management things were gone into more closely, and it was
+then discovered that Mr. Latch's accounts were incapable of satisfactory
+explanation. The defeat of Marksman had hit Mr. Latch as hard as it had
+hit the squire, and to pay his debts of honour he had to take from the
+money placed in his charge, confidently hoping to return it in a few
+months. The squire's misfortunes anticipated the realization of his
+intentions; proceedings were threatened, but were withdrawn when Mrs.
+Latch came forward with all her savings and volunteered to forego her
+wages for a term of years. Old Latch died soon after, some lucky bets set
+the squire on his legs again, the matter was half forgotten, and in the
+next generation it became the legend of the Latch family. But to Mrs.
+Latch it was an incurable grief, and to remove her son from influences
+which, in her opinion, had caused his father's death, Mrs. Latch had
+always refused Mr. Barfield's offers to do something for William. It was
+against her will that he had been taught to ride; but to her great joy he
+soon grew out of all possibility of becoming a jockey. She had then placed
+him in an office in Brighton; but the young man's height and shape marked
+him out for livery, and Mrs. Latch was pained when Mr. Barfield proposed
+it. "Why cannot they leave me my son?" she cried; for it seemed to her
+that in that hateful cloth, buttons and cockade, he would be no more her
+son, and she could not forget what the Latches had been long ago.
+
+"I believe there's going to be a trial this morning," said Margaret;
+"Silver Braid was stripped--you noticed that--and Ginger always rides in
+the trials."
+
+"I don't know what a trial is," said Esther. "They are not
+carriage-horses, are they? They look too slight."
+
+"Carriage-horses, you ninny! Where have you been to all this while--can't
+you see that they are race-horses?"
+
+Esther hung down her head and murmured something which Margaret didn't
+catch.
+
+"To tell the truth, I didn't know much about them when I came, but then
+one never hears anything else here. And that reminds me--it is as much as
+your place is worth to breathe one syllable about them horses; you must
+know nothing when you are asked. That's what Jim Story got sacked
+for--saying in the 'Red Lion' that Valentine pulled up lame. We don't know
+how it came to the Gaffer's ears. I believe that it was Mr. Leopold that
+told; he finds out everything. But I was telling you how I learnt about
+the race-horses. It was from Jim Story--Jim was my pal--Sarah is after
+William, you know, the fellow who brought you into the kitchen last night.
+Jim could never talk about anything but the 'osses. We'd go every night
+and sit in the wood-shed, that's to say if it was wet; if it was fine we'd
+walk in the drove-way. I'd have married Jim, I know I should, if he hadn't
+been sent away. That's the worst of being a servant. They sent Jim away
+just as if he was a dog. It was wrong of him to say the horse pulled up
+lame; I admit that, but they needn't have sent him away as they did."
+
+Esther was absorbed in the consideration of her own perilous position.
+Would they send her away at the end of the week, or that very afternoon?
+Would they give her a week's wages, or would they turn her out destitute
+to find her way back to London as best she might? What should she do if
+they turned her out-of-doors that very afternoon? Walk back to London? She
+did not know if that was possible. She did not know how far she had
+come--a long distance, no doubt. She had seen woods, hills, rivers, and
+towns flying past. Never would she be able to find her way back through
+that endless country; besides, she could not carry her box on her back....
+What was she to do? Not a friend, not a penny in the world. Oh, why did
+such misfortune fall on a poor little girl who had never harmed anyone in
+the world! And if they did give her her fare back--what then?... Should
+she go home?... To her mother--to her poor mother, who would burst into
+tears, who would say, "Oh, my poor darling, I don't know what we shall do;
+your father will never let you stay here."
+
+For Mrs. Latch had not spoken to her since she had come into the kitchen,
+and it seemed to Esther that she had looked round with the air of one
+anxious to discover something that might serve as a pretext for blame. She
+had told Esther to make haste and lay the table afresh. Those who had gone
+were the stable folk, and breakfast had now to be prepared for the other
+servants. The person in the dark green dress who spoke with her chin in
+the air, whose nose had been pinched to purple just above the nostrils,
+was Miss Grover, the lady's-maid. Grover addressed an occasional remark to
+Sarah Tucker, a tall girl with a thin freckled face and dark-red hair. The
+butler, who was not feeling well, did not appear at breakfast, and Esther
+was sent to him with a cup of tea.
+
+There were the plates to wash and the knives to clean, and when they were
+done there were potatoes, cabbage, onions to prepare, saucepans to fill
+with water, coal to fetch for the fire. She worked steadily without
+flagging, fearful of Mrs. Barfield, who would come down, no doubt, about
+ten o'clock to order dinner. The race-horses were coming through the
+paddock-gate; Margaret called to Mr. Randal, a little man, wizen, with a
+face sallow with frequent indigestions.
+
+"Well, do you think the Gaffer's satisfied?" said Margaret. John made no
+articulate reply, but he muttered something, and his manner showed that he
+strongly deprecated all female interest in racing; and when Sarah and
+Grover came running down the passage and overwhelmed him with questions,
+crowding around him, asking both together if Silver Braid had won his
+trial, he testily pushed them aside, declaring that if he had a race-horse
+he would not have a woman-servant in the place.... "A positive curse, this
+chatter, chatter. Won his trial, indeed! What business had a lot of female
+folk----" The rest of John's sarcasm was lost in his shirt collar as he
+hurried away to his pantry, closing the door after him.
+
+"What a testy little man he is!" said Sarah; "he might have told us which
+won. He has known the Gaffer so long that he knows the moment he looks at
+him whether the gees are all right."
+
+"One can't speak to a chap in the lane that he doesn't know all about it
+next day," said Margaret. "Peggy hates him; you know the way she skulks
+about the back garden and up the 'ill so that she may meet young Johnson
+as he is ridin' home."
+
+"I'll have none of this scandal-mongering going on in my kitchen," said
+Mrs. Latch. "Do you see that girl there? She can't get past to her
+scullery."
+
+Esther would have managed pretty well if it had not been for the
+dining-room lunch. Miss Mary was expecting some friends to play tennis
+with her, and, besides the roast chicken, there were the côtelettes à la
+Soubise and a curry. There was for dessert a jelly and a blancmange, and
+Esther did not know where any of the things were, and a great deal of time
+was wasted. "Don't you move, I might as well get it myself," said the old
+woman. Mr. Randal, too, lost his temper, for she had no hot plates ready,
+nor could she distinguish between those that were to go to the dining-room
+and those that were to go to the servants' hall. She understood, however,
+that it would not be wise to give way to her feeling, and that the only
+way she could hope to retain her situation was by doing nothing to attract
+attention. She must learn to control that temper of hers--she must and
+would. And it was in this frame of mind and with this determination that
+she entered the servants' hall.
+
+There were not more than ten or eleven at dinner, but sitting close
+together they seemed more numerous, and quite half the number of faces
+that looked up as she took her place next to Margaret Gale, were unknown
+to her. There were the four ugly little boys whom she had seen on the race
+horses, but she did not recognize them at first, and nearly opposite,
+sitting next to the lady's-maid, was a small, sandy-haired man about
+forty: he was beginning to show signs of stoutness, and two little round
+whiskers grew out of his pallid cheeks. Mr. Randal sat at the end of the
+table helping the pudding. He addressed the sandy-haired man as Mr.
+Swindles; but Esther learnt afterwards his real name was Ward, and that he
+was Mr. Barfield's head groom. She learnt, too, that "the Demon" was not
+the real name of the little carroty-haired boy, and she looked at him in
+amazement when he whispered in her ear that he would dearly love a real
+go-in at that pudding, but that it was so fattening that he didn't ever
+dare to venture on more than a couple of sniffs. Seeing that the girl did
+not understand, he added, by way of explanation, "You know that I must
+keep under the six stone, and at times it becomes awful 'ard."
+
+Esther thought him a nice little fellow, and tried to persuade him to
+forego his resolution not to touch pudding, until Mr. Swindles told her to
+desist. The attention of the whole table being thus drawn towards the boy,
+Esther was still further surprised at the admiration he seemed so easily
+to command and the important position he seemed to occupy, notwithstanding
+his diminutive stature, whereas the bigger boys were treated with very
+little consideration. The long-nosed lad, with weak eyes and sloping
+shoulders, who sat on the other side of the table on Mr. Swindles' left,
+was everybody's laughing-stock, especially Mr. Swindles', who did not
+cease to poke fun at him. Mr. Swindles was now telling poor Jim's
+misadventures with the Gaffer.
+
+"But why do you call him Mr. Leopold when his name is Mr. Randal?" Esther
+ventured to inquire of the Demon.
+
+"On account of Leopold Rothschild," said the Demon; "he's pretty near as
+rich, if the truth was known--won a pile over the City and Sub. Pity you
+weren't there; might have had a bit on."
+
+"I have never seen the City," Esther replied innocently.
+
+"Never seen the City and Sub!... I was up, had a lot in hand, so I came
+away from my 'orses the moment I got into the dip. The Tinman nearly
+caught me on the post--came with a terrific rush; he is just hawful, that
+Tinman is. I did catch it from the Gaffer--he did give it me."
+
+The plates of all the boys except the Demon's were now filled with
+beefsteak pudding, potatoes, and greens, likewise Esther's. Mr. Leopold,
+Mr. Swindles, the housemaid, and the cook dined off the leg of mutton, a
+small slice of which was sent to the Demon. "That for a dinner!" and as he
+took up his knife and fork and cut a small piece of his one slice, he
+said, "I suppose you never had to reduce yourself three pounds; girls
+never have. I do run to flesh so, you wouldn't believe it. If I don't walk
+to Portslade and back every second day, I go up three or four pounds. Then
+there's nothing for it but the physic, and that's what settles me. Can you
+take physic?"
+
+"I took three Beecham's pills once."
+
+"Oh, that's nothing. Can you take castor-oil?"
+
+Esther looked in amazement at the little boy at her side. Swindles had
+overheard the question and burst into a roar of laughter. Everyone wanted
+to know what the joke was, and, feeling they were poking fun at her,
+Esther refused to answer.
+
+The first helpings of pudding or mutton had taken the edge off their
+appetites, and before sending their plates for more they leaned over the
+table listening and laughing open-mouthed. It was a bare room, lit with
+one window, against which Mrs. Latch's austere figure appeared in
+dark-grey silhouette. The window looked on one of the little back courts
+and tiled ways which had been built at the back of the house; and the
+shadowed northern light softened the listening faces with grey tints.
+
+"You know," said Mr. Swindles, glancing at Jim as if to assure himself
+that the boy was there and unable to escape from the hooks of his sarcasm,
+"how fast the Gaffer talks, and how he hates to be asked to repeat his
+words. Knowing this, Jim always says, 'Yes, sir; yes, sir.' 'Now do you
+quite understand?' says the Gaffer. 'Yes, sir; yes, sir,' replies Jim, not
+having understood one word of what was said; but relying on us to put him
+right. 'Now what did he say I was to do?' says Jim, the moment the Gaffer
+is out of hearing. But this morning we were on ahead, and the Gaffer had
+Jim all to himself. As usual he says, 'Now do you quite understand?' and
+as usual Jim says, 'Yes, sir; yes, sir.' Suspecting that Jim had not
+understood, I said when he joined us, 'Now if you are not sure what he
+said you had better go back and ask him,' but Jim declared that he had
+perfectly understood. 'And what did he tell you to do?' said I. 'He told
+me,' says Jim, 'to bring the colt along and finish up close by where he
+would be standing at the end of the track.' I thought it rather odd to
+send Firefly such a stiff gallop as all that, but Jim was certain that he
+had heard right. And off they went, beginning the other side of Southwick
+Hill. I saw the Gaffer with his arms in the air, and don't know now what
+he said. Jim will tell you. He did give it you, didn't he, you old
+Woolgatherer?" said Mr. Swindles, slapping the boy on the shoulder.
+
+"You may laugh as much as you please, but I'm sure he did tell me to come
+along three-quarter speed after passing the barn," replied Jim, and to
+change the conversation he asked Mr. Leopold for some more pudding, and
+the Demon's hungry eyes watched the last portion being placed on the
+Woolgatherer's plate. Noticing that Esther drank no beer, he exclaimed--
+
+"Well, I never; to see yer eat and drink one would think that it was you
+who was a-wasting to ride the crack at Goodwood."
+
+The remark was received with laughter, and, excited by his success, the
+Demon threw his arms round Esther, and seizing her hands, said, "Now yer a
+jest beginning to get through yer 'osses, and when you get on a level----"
+But the Demon, in his hungry merriment, had bestowed no thought of finding
+a temper in such a staid little girl, and a sound box on the ear threw him
+backwards into his seat surprised and howling. "Yer nasty thing!" he
+blubbered out. "Couldn't you see it was only a joke?" But passion was hot
+in Esther. She had understood no word that had been said since she had sat
+down to dinner, and, conscious of her poverty and her ignorance, she
+imagined that a great deal of the Demon's conversation had been directed
+against her; and, choking with indignation, she only heard indistinctly
+the reproaches with which the other little boys covered her--"nasty,
+dirty, ill-tempered thing, scullery-maid," etc.; nor did she understand
+their whispered plans to duck her when she passed the stables. All looked
+a little askance, especially Grover and Mr. Leopold. Margaret said--
+
+"That will teach these impertinent little jockey-boys that the servants'
+hall is not the harness-room; they oughtn't to be admitted here at all."
+
+Mr. Leopold nodded, and told the Demon to leave off blubbering. "You can't
+be so much hurt as all that. Come, wipe your eyes and have a piece of
+currant tart, or leave the room. I want to hear from Mr. Swindles an
+account of the trial. We know that Silver Braid won, but we haven't heard
+how he won nor yet what the weights were."
+
+"Well," said Mr. Swindles, "what I makes out is this. I was riding within
+a pound or two of nine stone, and The Rake is, as you know, seven pounds,
+no more, worse than Bayleaf. Ginger rides usually as near as possible my
+weight--we'll say he was riding nine two--I think he could manage
+that--and the Demon, we know, he is now riding over the six stone; in his
+ordinary clothes he rides six seven."
+
+"Yes, yes, but how do we know that there was any lead to speak of in the
+Demon's saddle-cloth?"
+
+"The Demon says there wasn't above a stone. Don't you, Demon?"
+
+"I don't know nothing! I'm not going to stand being clouted by the
+kitchen-maid."
+
+"Oh, shut up, or leave the room," said Mr. Leopold; "we don't want to hear
+any more about that."
+
+"I started making the running according to orders. Ginger was within
+three-quarters of a length of me, being pulled out of the saddle. The
+Gaffer was standing at the three-quarters of the mile, and there Ginger
+won fairly easily, but they went on to the mile--them were the orders--and
+there the Demon won by half a length, that is to say if Ginger wasn't
+a-kidding of him."
+
+"A-kidding of me!" said the Demon. "When we was a hundred yards from 'ome
+I steadied without his noticing me, and then I landed in the last fifty
+yards by half a length. Ginger can't ride much better than any other
+gentleman."
+
+"Yer see," said Mr. Swindles, "he'd sooner have a box on the ear from the
+kitchen-maid than be told a gentleman could kid him at a finish. He
+wouldn't mind if it was the Tinman, eh, Demon?"
+
+"We know," said Mr. Leopold, "that Bayleaf can get the mile; there must
+have been a lot of weight between them. Besides, I should think that the
+trial was at the three-quarters of the mile. The mile was so much kid."
+
+"I should say," replied Mr. Swindles, "that the 'orses were tried at
+twenty-one pounds, and if Silver Braid can beat Bayleaf at that weight,
+he'll take a deal of beating at Goodwood."
+
+And leaning forward, their arms on the table, with large pieces of cheese
+at the end of their knives, the maid-servants and the jockey listened
+while Mr. Leopold and Mr. Swindles discussed the chances the stable had of
+pulling off the Stewards' Cup with Silver Braid.
+
+"But he will always keep on trying them," said Mr. Swindles, "and what's
+the use, says I, of trying 'orses that are no more than 'alf fit? And them
+downs is just rotten with 'orse watchers; it has just come to this, that
+you can't comb out an 'orse's mane without seeing it in the papers the day
+after. If I had my way with them gentry----" Mr. Swindles finished his
+beer at a gulp, and he put down his glass as firmly as he desired to put
+down the horse watchers. At the end of a long silence Mr. Leopold said--
+
+"Come into my pantry and smoke a pipe. Mr. Arthur will be down presently.
+Perhaps he'll tell us what weight he was riding this morning."
+
+"Cunning old bird," said Mr. Swindles, as he rose from the table and wiped
+his shaven lips with the back of his hand; "and you'd have us believe that
+you didn't know, would you? You'd have us believe, would you, that the
+Gaffer don't tell you everything when you bring up his hot water in the
+morning, would you?"
+
+Mr. Leopold laughed under his breath, and looking mysterious and very
+rat-like he led the way to his pantry. Esther watched them in strange
+trouble of soul. She had heard of racecourses as shameful places where men
+were led to their ruin, and betting she had always understood to be
+sinful, but in this house no one seemed to think of anything else. It was
+no place for a Christian girl.
+
+"Let's have some more of the story," Margaret said. "You've got the new
+number. The last piece was where he is going to ask the opera-singer to
+run away with him."
+
+Sarah took an illustrated journal out of her pocket and began to read
+aloud.
+
+
+
+
+III
+
+
+Esther was one of the Plymouth Brethren. In their chapel, if the house in
+which they met could be called a chapel, there were neither pictured
+stories of saints, nor vestments, nor music, nor even imaginative
+stimulant in the shape of written prayers. Her knowledge of life was
+strictly limited to her experience of life; she knew no drama of passion
+except that which the Gospels relate: this story in the _Family Reader_
+was the first representation of life she had met with, and its humanity
+thrilled her like the first idol set up for worship. The actress told
+Norris that she loved him. They were on a balcony, the sky was blue, the
+moon was shining, the warm scent of the mignonette came up from the garden
+below, the man was in evening dress with diamond shirt studs, the
+actress's arm was large and white. They had loved each other for years.
+The strangest events had happened for the purpose of bringing them
+together, and, fascinated against her will, Esther could not but listen.
+But at the end of the chapter the racial instinct forced reproval from
+her.
+
+"I am sure it is wicked to read such tales."
+
+Sarah looked at her in mute astonishment. Grover said--
+
+"You shouldn't be here at all. Can't Mrs. Latch find nothing for you to do
+in the scullery?"
+
+"Then," said Sarah, awaking to a sense of the situation, "I suppose that
+where you come from you were not so much as allowed to read a tale;
+... dirty little chapel-going folk!"
+
+The incident might have closed with this reproval had not Margaret
+volunteered the information that Esther's box was full of books.
+
+"I should like to see them books," said Sarah. "I'll be bound that they
+are only prayer-books."
+
+"I don't mind what you say to me, but you shall not insult my religion."
+
+"Insult your religion! I said you never had read a book in your life
+unless it was a prayer-book."
+
+"We don't use prayer-books."
+
+"Then what books have you read?"
+
+Esther hesitated, her manner betrayed her, and, suspecting the truth,
+Sarah said:
+
+"I don't believe that you can read at all. Come, I'll bet you twopence
+that you can't read the first five lines of my story."
+
+Esther pushed the paper from her and walked out of the room in a tumult of
+grief and humiliation. Woodview and all belonging to it had grown
+unbearable, and heedless to what complaint the cook might make against her
+she ran upstairs and shut herself into her room. She asked why they should
+take pleasure in torturing her. It was not her fault if she did not know
+how to read. There were the books she loved for her mother's sake, the
+books that had brought such disgrace upon her. Even the names she could
+not read, and the shame of her ignorance lay upon her heavier than a
+weight of lead. "Peter Parley's Annual," "Sunny Memories of Foreign
+Lands," "Children of the Abbey," "Uncle Tom's Cabin," Lamb's "Tales of
+Shakespeare's Plays," a Cooking Book, "Roda's Mission of Love," the Holy
+Bible and the Common Prayer Book.
+
+She turned them over, wondering what were the mysteries that this print
+held from her. It was to her mysterious as the stars.
+
+Esther Waters came from Barnstaple. She had been brought up in the
+strictness of the Plymouth Brethren, and her earliest memories were of
+prayers, of narrow, peaceful family life. This early life had lasted till
+she was ten years old. Then her father died. He had been a house-painter,
+but in early youth he had been led into intemperance by some wild
+companions. He was often not in a fit state to go to work, and one day the
+fumes of the beer he had drunk overpowered him as he sat in the strong
+sunlight on his scaffolding. In the hospital he called upon God to relieve
+him of his suffering; then the Brethren said, "You never thought of God
+before. Be patient, your health is coming back; it is a present from God;
+you would like to know Him and thank Him from the bottom of your heart?"
+
+John Waters' heart was touched. He became one of the Brethren, renouncing
+those companions who refused to follow into the glory of God. His
+conversion and subsequent grace won for him the sympathies of Mary
+Thornby. But Mary's father would not consent to the marriage unless John
+abandoned his dangerous trade of house-painter. John Waters consented to
+do this, and old James Thornby, who had made a competence in the curiosity
+line, offered to make over his shop to the young couple on certain
+conditions; these conditions were accepted, and under his father-in-law's
+direction John drove a successful trade in old glass, old jewellery, and
+old furniture.
+
+The Brethren liked not this trade, and they often came to John to speak
+with him on the subject, and their words were----
+
+"Of course this is between you and the Lord, but these things" (pointing
+to the old glass and jewellery) "often are but snares for the feet, and
+lead weaker brethren into temptation. Of course, it is between you and the
+Lord."
+
+So John Waters was tormented with scruples concerning the righteousness of
+his trade, but his wife's gentle voice and eyes, and the limitations that
+his accident, from which he had never wholly recovered, had set upon his
+life, overruled his scruples, and he remained until he died a dealer in
+artistic ware, eliminating, however, from his dealings those things to
+which the Brethren most strongly objected.
+
+When he died his widow strove to carry on the business, but her father,
+who was now a confirmed invalid, could not help her. In the following year
+she lost both her parents. Many changes were taking place in Barnstaple,
+new houses were being built, a much larger and finer shop had been opened
+in the more prosperous end of the town, and Mrs. Waters found herself
+obliged to sell her business for almost nothing, and marry again. Children
+were born of this second marriage in rapid succession, the cradle was
+never empty, and Esther was spoken of as the little nurse.
+
+Her great solicitude was for her poor mother, who had lost her health,
+whose blood was impoverished by constant child-bearing. Mother and
+daughter were seen in the evenings, one with a baby at her breast, the
+other with an eighteen months old child in her arms. Esther did not dare
+leave her mother, and to protect her she gave up school, and this was why
+she had never learnt how to read.
+
+One of the many causes of quarrel between Mrs. Saunders and her husband
+was her attendance at prayer-meetings when he said she should be at home
+minding her children. He used to accuse her of carrying on with the
+Scripture-readers, and to punish her he would say, "This week I'll spend
+five bob more in the public--that'll teach you, if beating won't, that I
+don't want none of your hypocritical folk hanging round my place." So it
+befell the Saunders family to have little to eat; and Esther often
+wondered how she should get a bit of dinner for her sick mother and her
+hungry little brothers and sisters. Once they passed nearly thirty hours
+without food. She called them round her, and knelt down amid them: they
+prayed that God might help them; and their prayers were answered, for at
+half-past twelve a Scripture lady came in with flowers in her hands. She
+asked Mrs. Saunders how her appetite was. Mrs. Saunders answered that it
+was more than she could afford, for there was nothing to eat in the house.
+Then the Scripture lady gave them eighteen pence, and they all knelt down
+and thanked God together.
+
+But although Saunders spent a great deal of his money in the public-house,
+he rarely got drunk and always kept his employment. He was a painter of
+engines, a first-rate hand, earning good money, from twenty-five to thirty
+shillings a week. He was a proud man, but so avaricious that he stopped at
+nothing to get money. He was an ardent politician, yet he would sell his
+vote to the highest bidder, and when Esther was seventeen he compelled her
+to take service regardless of the character of the people or of what the
+place was like. They had left Barnstaple many months, and were now living
+in a little street off the Vauxhall Bridge Road, near the factory where
+Saunders worked; and since they had been in London Esther had been
+constantly in service. Why should he keep her? She wasn't one of his
+children, he had quite enough of his own. Sometimes of an evening, when
+Esther could escape from her drudgery for a few minutes, her mother would
+step round, and mother and daughter, wrapped in the same shawl, would walk
+to and fro telling each other their troubles, just as in old times. But
+these moments were few. In grimy lodging-houses she worked from early
+morning till late at night, scrubbing grates, preparing bacon and eggs,
+cooking chops, and making beds. She had become one of those London girls
+to whom rest, not to say pleasure, is unknown, who if they should sit down
+for a few moments hear the mistress's voice, "Now, Eliza, have you nothing
+to do, that you are sitting there idle?" Two of her mistresses, one after
+the other, had been sold up, and now all the rooms in the neighbourhood
+were unlet, no one wanted a "slavey," and Esther was obliged to return
+home. It was on the last of these occasions that her father had taken her
+by the shoulders, saying----
+
+"No lodging-houses that want a slavey? I'll see about that. Tell me,
+first, have you been to 78?"
+
+"Yes, but another girl was before me, and the place was taken when I
+arrived."
+
+"I wonder what you were doing that you didn't get there sooner; dangling
+about after your mother, I suppose! Well, what about 27 in the Crescent?"
+
+"I couldn't go there--that Mrs. Dunbar is a bad woman."
+
+"Bad woman! Who are you, I should like to know, that you can take a lady's
+character away? Who told you she was a bad woman? One of the
+Scripture-readers, I suppose! I knew it was. Well, then, just get out of
+my house."
+
+"Where shall I go?"
+
+"Go to hell for all I care. Do you hear me? Get out!"
+
+Esther did not move--words, and then blows. Esther's escape from her
+stepfather seemed a miracle, and his anger was only appeased by Mrs.
+Saunders promising that Esther should accept the situation.
+
+"Only for a little while. Perhaps Mrs. Dunbar is a better woman than you
+think for. For my sake, dearie. If you don't he may kill you and me too."
+
+Esther looked at her one moment, then she said, "Very well, mother,
+to-morrow I'll take the place."
+
+No longer was the girl starved, no longer was she made to drudge till the
+thought of another day was a despair and a terror. And seeing that she was
+a good girl, Mrs. Dunbar respected her scruples. Indeed, she was very
+kind, and Esther soon learnt to like her, and, through her affection for
+her, to think less of the life she led. A dangerous point is this in a
+young girl's life. Esther was young, and pretty, and weary, and out of
+health; and it was at this critical moment that Lady Elwin, who, while
+visiting, had heard her story, promised Mrs. Saunders to find Esther
+another place. And to obviate all difficulties about references and
+character, Lady Elwin proposed to take Esther as her own servant for a
+sufficient while to justify her in recommending her.
+
+And now, as she turned over her books--the books she could not read--her
+pure and passionate mind was filled with the story of her life. She
+remembered her poor little brothers and sisters and her dear mother, and
+that tyrant revenging himself upon them because of the little she might
+eat and drink. No, she must bear with all insults and scorn, and forget
+that they thought her as dirt under their feet. But what were such
+sufferings compared to those she would endure were she to return home? In
+truth they were as nothing. And yet the girl longed to leave Woodview. She
+had never been out of sight of home before. Amid the violences of her
+stepfather there had always been her mother and the meeting-house. In
+Woodview there was nothing, only Margaret, who had come to console and
+persuade her to come downstairs. The resolution she had to call out of her
+soul to do this exhausted her, and she went downstairs heedless of what
+anyone might say.
+
+Two and three days passed without anything occurring that might suggest
+that the Fates were for or against her remaining. Mrs. Barfield continued
+to be indisposed, but at the end of the week Esther, while she was at work
+in the scullery, heard a new voice speaking with Mrs. Latch. This must be
+Mrs. Barfield. She heard Mrs. Latch tell the story of her refusal to go to
+work the evening she arrived. But Mrs. Barfield told her that she would
+listen to no further complaints; this was the third kitchen-maid in four
+months, and Mrs. Latch must make up her mind to bear with the faults and
+failings of this last one, whatever they were. Then Mrs. Barfield called
+Esther; and when she entered the kitchen she found herself face to face
+with a little red-haired woman, with a pretty, pointed face.
+
+"I hear, Waters--that is your name, I think--that you refused to obey
+cook, and walked out of the kitchen the night you arrived."
+
+"I said, ma'am, that I would wait till my box came up from the station, so
+that I might change my dress. Mrs. Latch said my dress didn't matter, but
+when one is poor and hasn't many dresses----"
+
+"Are you short of clothes, then?"
+
+"I have not many, ma'am, and the dress I had on the day I came----"
+
+"Never mind about that. Tell me, are you short of clothes?--for if you are
+I daresay my daughter might find you something--you are about the same
+height--with a little alteration----"
+
+"Oh, ma'am, you are too good. I shall be most grateful. But I think I
+shall be able to manage till my first quarter's wages come to me."
+
+And the scowl upon Mrs. Latch's long face did not kill the pleasure which
+the little interview with that kind, sweet woman, Mrs. Barfield, had
+created in her. She moved about her work, happy at heart, singing to
+herself as she washed the vegetables. Even Mrs. Latch's harshness didn't
+trouble her much. She felt it to be a manner under which there might be a
+kind heart, and she hoped by her willingness to work to gain at least the
+cook's toleration. Margaret suggested that Esther should give up her beer.
+A solid pint extra a day could not fail, she said, to win the old woman's
+gratitude, and perhaps induce her to teach Esther how to make pastry and
+jellies.
+
+True that Margaret joined in the common laugh and jeer that the knowledge
+that Esther said her prayers morning and evening inspired. She sometimes
+united with Grover and Sarah in perplexing Esther with questions regarding
+her previous situations, but her hostilities were, on the whole, gentle,
+and Esther felt that this almost neutral position was the best that
+Margaret could have adopted. She defended her without seeming to do so,
+and seemed genuinely fond of her, helping her sometimes even with her
+work, which Mrs. Latch made as heavy as possible. But Esther was now
+determined to put up with every task they might impose upon her; she would
+give them no excuse for sending her away; she would remain at Woodview
+until she had learned sufficient cooking to enable her to get another
+place. But Mrs. Latch had the power to thwart her in this. Before
+beginning on her jellies and gravies Mrs. Latch was sure to find some
+saucepans that had not been sufficiently cleaned with white sand, and, if
+her search proved abortive, she would send Esther upstairs to scrub out
+her bedroom.
+
+"I cannot think why she is so down upon me," Esther often said to
+Margaret.
+
+"She isn't more down upon you than she was on the others. You needn't
+expect to learn any cooking from her; her plan has always been to take
+care that she shall not be supplanted by any of her kitchen-maids. But I
+don't see why she should be always sending you upstairs to clean out her
+bedroom. If Grover wasn't so stand-offish, we might tell her about it, and
+she could tell the Saint--that's what we call the missis; the Saint would
+soon put a stop to all that nonsense. I will say that for the Saint, she
+do like everyone to have fair play."
+
+Mrs. Barfield, or the Saint, as she was called, belonged, like Esther, to
+the sect known as the Plymouth Brethren. She was the daughter of one of
+the farmers on the estate--a very old man called Elliot. He had spent his
+life on his barren down farm, becoming intimate with no one, driving hard
+bargains with all, especially the squire and the poor flint-pickers. He
+could be seen still on the hill-sides, his long black coat buttoned
+strictly about him, his soft felt hat crushed over the thin, grey face.
+Pretty Fanny Elliot had won the squire's heart as he rode across the down.
+Do you not see the shy figure of the Puritan maiden tripping through the
+gorse, hastening the hoofs of the squire's cob? And, furnished with some
+pretext of estate business, he often rode to the farm that lay under the
+shaws at the end of the coombe. The squire had to promise to become one of
+the Brethren and he had to promise never to bet again, before Fanny Elliot
+agreed to become Mrs. Barfield. The ambitious members of the Barfield
+family declared that the marriage was social ruin, but more dispassionate
+critics called it a very suitable match; for it was not forgotten that
+three generations ago the Barfields were livery-stable keepers; they had
+risen in the late squire's time to the level of county families, and the
+envious were now saying that the Barfield family was sinking back whence
+it came.
+
+He was faithful to his promises for a time. Race-horses disappeared from
+the Woodview stables. It was not until after the birth of both his
+children that he entered one of his hunters in the hunt steeplechase. Soon
+after the racing stable was again in full swing at Woodview. Tears there
+were, and some family disunion, but time extorts concessions from all of
+us. Mrs. Barfield had ceased to quarrel with her husband on the subject of
+his racehorses, and he in his turn did not attempt to restrict her in the
+exercise of her religion. She attended prayer-meetings when her soul moved
+her, and read the Scriptures when and where she pleased.
+
+It was one of her practices to have the women-servants for half-an-hour
+every Sunday afternoon in the library, and instruct them in the life of
+Christ. Mrs. Barfield's goodness was even as a light upon her little oval
+face--reddish hair growing thin at the parting and smoothed back above the
+ears, as in an old engraving. Although nearly fifty, her figure was slight
+as a young girl's. Esther was attracted by the magnetism of racial and
+religious affinities; and when their eyes met at prayers there was
+acknowledgment of religious kinship. A glow of happiness filled Esther's
+soul, for she knew she was no longer wholly among strangers; she knew they
+were united--she and her mistress--under the sweet dominion of Christ. To
+look at Mrs. Barfield filled her, somehow, with recollections of her pious
+childhood; she saw herself in the old shop, moving again in an atmosphere
+of prayer, listening to the beautiful story, in the annunciation of which
+her life had grown up. She answered her mistress's questions in sweet
+light-heartedness of spirit, pleasing her with her knowledge of the Holy
+Book. But in turn the servants had begun to read verses aloud from the New
+Testament, and Esther saw that her secret would be torn from her. Sarah
+had read a verse, and Mrs. Barfield had explained it, and now Margaret was
+reading. Esther listened, thinking if she might plead illness and escape
+from the room; but she could not summon sufficient presence of mind, and
+while she was still agitated and debating with herself, Mrs. Barfield
+called to her to continue. She hung down her head, suffocated with the
+shame of the exposure, and when Mrs. Barfield told her again to continue
+the reading Esther shook her head.
+
+"Can you not read, Esther?" she heard a kind voice saying; and the sound
+of this voice loosed the feelings long pent up, and the girl, giving way
+utterly, burst into passionate weeping. She was alone with her suffering,
+conscious of nothing else, until a kind hand led her from the room, and
+this hand soothed away the bitterness of the tittering which reached her
+ears as the door closed. It was hard to persuade her to speak, but even
+the first words showed that there was more on the girl's heart than could
+be told in a few minutes. Mrs. Barfield determined to take the matter at
+once in hand; she dismissed the other servants and returned to the library
+with Esther, and in that dim room of little green sofas, bookless shelves,
+and bird-cages, the women--mistress and maid--sealed the bond of a
+friendship which was to last for life.
+
+Esther told her mistress everything--the work that Mrs. Latch required of
+her, the persecution she received from the other servants, principally
+because of her religion. In the course of the narrative allusion was made
+to the race-horses, and Esther saw on Mrs. Barfield's face a look of
+grief, and it was clear to what cause Mrs. Barfield attributed the
+demoralisation of her household.
+
+"I will teach you how to read, Esther. Every Sunday after our Bible
+instruction you shall remain when the others have left for half-an-hour.
+It is not difficult; you will soon learn."
+
+Henceforth, every Sunday afternoon, Mrs. Barfield devoted half-an-hour to
+the instruction of her kitchen-maid. These half-hours were bright spots of
+happiness in the serving-girl's weeks of work--happiness that had been and
+would be again. But although possessing a clear intelligence, Esther did
+not make much progress, nor did her diligence seem to help her. Mrs.
+Barfield was puzzled by her pupil's slowness; she ascribed it to her own
+inaptitude to teach and the little time for lessons. Esther's
+powerlessness to put syllables together, to grasp the meaning of words,
+was very marked. Strange it was, no doubt, but all that concerned the
+printed page seemed to embarrass and elude her.
+
+
+
+
+IV
+
+
+Esther's position in Woodview was now assured, and her fellow-servants
+recognised the fact, though they liked her none the better for it. Mrs.
+Latch still did what she could to prevent her from learning her trade, but
+she no longer attempted to overburden her with work. Of Mr. Leopold she
+saw almost as little as she did of the people upstairs. He passed along
+the passages or remained shut up in his pantry. Ginger used to go there to
+smoke; and when the door stood ajar Esther saw his narrow person seated on
+the edge of the table, his leg swinging. Among the pantry people Mr.
+Leopold's erudition was a constant subject of admiration. His
+reminiscences of the races of thirty years ago were full of interest; he
+had seen the great horses whose names live in the stud-book, the horses
+the Gaffer had owned, had trained, had ridden, and he was full of anecdote
+concerning them and the Gaffer. Praise of his father's horsemanship always
+caused a cloud to gather on Ginger's face, and when he left the pantry
+Swindles chuckled. "Whenever I wants to get a rise out of Ginger I says,
+'Ah, we shall never see another gentleman jock who can use the whip at a
+finish like the Governor in his best days.'"
+
+Everyone delighted in the pantry, and to make Mr. Leopold comfortable Mr.
+Swindles used to bring in the wolf-skin rug that went out with the
+carriage, and wrap it round Mr. Leopold's wooden armchair, and the sallow
+little man would curl himself up, and, smoking his long clay, discuss the
+weights of the next big handicap. If Ginger contradicted him he would go
+to the press and extract from its obscurity a package of _Bell's Life_ or
+a file of the _Sportsman_.
+
+Mr. Leopold's press! For forty years no one had looked into that press.
+Mr. Leopold guarded it from every gaze, but it seemed to be a much-varied
+repository from which, if he chose, he could produce almost any trifle
+that might be required. It seemed to combine the usefulness of a hardware
+shop and a drug store.
+
+The pantry had its etiquette and its discipline. Jockey boys were rarely
+admitted, unless with the intention of securing their services for the
+cleaning of boots or knives. William was very proud of his right of entry.
+For that half-hour in the pantry he would willingly surrender the pleasure
+of walking in the drove-way with Sarah. But when Mrs. Latch learnt that he
+was there her face darkened, and the noise she then made about the range
+with her saucepans was alarming. Mrs. Barfield shared her cook's horror of
+the pantry, and often spoke of Mr. Leopold as "that little man." Although
+outwardly the family butler, he had never ceased to be the Gaffer's
+private servant; he represented the old days of bachelorhood. Mrs.
+Barfield and Mrs. Latch both disliked him. Had it not been for his
+influence Mrs. Barfield felt sure her husband would never have returned to
+his vice. Had it not been for Mr. Leopold Mrs. Latch felt that her husband
+would never have taken to betting. Legends and mystery had formed around
+Mr. Leopold and his pantry, and in Esther's unsophisticated mind this
+little room, with its tobacco smoke and glasses on the table, became a
+symbol of all that was wicked and dangerous; and when she passed the door
+she closed her ears to the loud talk and instinctively lowered her eyes.
+
+The simplest human sentiments were abiding principles in Esther--love of
+God, and love of God in the home. But above this Protestantism was human
+nature; and at this time Esther was, above all else, a young girl. Her
+twentieth year thrilled within her; she was no longer weary with work, and
+new, rich blood filled her veins. She sang at her work, gladdened by the
+sights and sounds of the yard; the young rooks cawing lustily in the
+evergreens, the gardener passing to and fro with plants in his hands, the
+white cats licking themselves in the sun or running to meet the young
+ladies who brought them plates of milk. Then the race-horses were always
+going to or coming from the downs. Sometimes they came in so covered with
+white mud that part of their toilette was accomplished in the yard; and
+from her kitchen window she could see the beautiful creature haltered to
+the hook fixed in the high wall, and the little boy in his shirtsleeves
+and hitched-up trousers, not a bit afraid, but shouting and quieting him
+into submission with the stick when he kicked and bit, tickled by the
+washing brush passing under the belly. Then the wrestling, sparring,
+ball-playing of the lads when their work was done, the pale, pathetic
+figure of the Demon watching them. He was about to start for Portslade and
+back, wrapped, as he would put it, in a red-hot scorcher of an overcoat.
+
+Esther often longed for a romp with these boys; she was now prime
+favourite with them. Once they caught her in the hay yard, and fine sport
+it was in the warm hay throwing each other over. Sometimes her wayward
+temper would get the better of her, but her momentary rage vanished at the
+sound of laughter. And after their tussling they would walk a little while
+pensively, until perhaps one, with an adroit trip, would send the other
+rolling over on the grass, and then, with wild cries, they would run down
+the drove-way. Then there was the day when the Wool-gatherer told her he
+was in love, and what fun they had had, and how well she had led him into
+belief that she was jealous! She had taken a rope as if she were going to
+hang herself, and having fastened it to a branch, she had knelt down as if
+she were saying her prayers. The poor Wool-gatherer could stand it no
+longer; he had rushed to her side, swearing that if she would promise not
+to hang herself he would never look at another girl again. The other boys,
+who had been crouching in the drove-way, rose up. How they did chaff the
+Wool-gatherer! He had burst into tears and Esther had felt sorry for him,
+and almost inclined to marry him out of pity for his forlorn condition.
+
+Her life grew happier and happier. She forgot that Mrs. Latch would not
+teach her how to make jellies, and had grown somewhat used to Sarah's
+allusions to her ignorance. She was still very poor, had not sufficient
+clothes, and her life was full of little troubles; but there were
+compensations. It was to her that Mrs. Barfield always came when she
+wanted anything in a hurry, and Miss Mary, too, seemed to prefer to apply
+to Esther when she wanted milk for her cats or bran and oats for her
+rabbits.
+
+The Gaffer and his race-horses, the Saint and her greenhouse--so went the
+stream of life at Woodview. What few visitors came were entertained by
+Miss Mary in the drawing-room or on the tennis lawn. Mrs. Barfield saw no
+one. She desired to remain in her old gown--an old thing that her daughter
+had discarded long ago--pinned up around her, and on her head an old
+bonnet with a faded poppy hanging from the crown. In such attire she
+wished to be allowed to trot about to and fro from her greenhouse to her
+potting-shed, watering, pruning, and syringing her plants. These plants
+were dearer than all things to her except her children; she seemed,
+indeed, to treat them as if they were children, and with the sun pouring
+through the glass down on her back she would sit freeing them from
+devouring insects all the day long. She would carry can after can of water
+up the long path and never complain of fatigue. She broke into complaint
+only when Miss Mary forgot to feed her pets, of which she had a great
+number--rabbits, and cats, and rooks, and all the work devolved upon her.
+She could not see these poor dumb creatures hungry, and would trudge to
+the stables, coming back laden with trusses of hay. But it was sometimes
+more than a pair of hands could do, and she would send Esther with scraps
+of meat and bread and milk to the unfortunate rooks that Mary had so
+unmercifully forgotten. "I'll have no more pets," she'd say, "Miss Mary
+won't look after them, and all the trouble falls upon me. See these poor
+cats, how they come mewing round my skirts." She loved to expatiate on her
+inexhaustible affection for dumb animals, and she continued an anecdotal
+discourse till, suddenly wearying of it, she would break off and speak to
+Esther about Barnstaple and the Brethren.
+
+The Saint loved to hear Esther tell of her father and the little shop in
+Barnstaple, of the prayer-meetings and the simple earnestness and
+narrowness of the faith of those good Brethren. Circumstances had effaced,
+though they had not obliterated, the once sharply-marked confines of her
+religious habits. Her religion was like a garden--a little less sedulously
+tended than of yore, but no whit less fondly loved; and while listening to
+Esther's story she dreamed her own early life over again, and paused,
+laying down her watering-can, penetrated with the happiness of gentle
+memories. So Esther's life grew and was fashioned; so amid the ceaseless
+round of simple daily occupations mistress and maid learned to know and to
+love one another, and became united and strengthful in the tender and
+ineffable sympathies of race and religion.
+
+
+
+
+V
+
+
+The summer drowsed, baking the turf on the hills, and after every gallop
+the Gaffer passed his fingers along the fine legs of the crack, in fear
+and apprehension lest he should detect any swelling. William came every
+day for news. He had five shillings on; he stood to win five pounds
+ten--quite a little fortune--and he often stopped to ask Esther if there
+was any news as he made his way to the pantry. She told him that so far as
+she knew Silver Braid was all right, and continued shaking the rug.
+
+"You'll never get the dust out of that rug," he said at last, "here, give
+it to me." She hesitated, then gave it him, and he beat it against the
+brick wall. "There," he said, handing it back to her, "that's how I beats
+a mat; you won't find much dust in it now."
+
+"Thank you.... Sarah went by an hour and a half ago."
+
+"Ah, she must have gone to the Gardens. You have never been to those
+gardens, have you? Dancing-hall, theatre, sorcerers--every blessed thing.
+But you're that religious, I suppose you wouldn't come?"
+
+"It is only the way you are brought up."
+
+"Well, will you come?"
+
+"I don't think I should like those Gardens.... But I daresay they are no
+worse than any other place. I've heard so much since I was here, that
+really----"
+
+"That really what?"
+
+"That sometimes it seems useless like to be particular."
+
+"Of course--all rot. Well, will you come next Sunday?"
+
+"Certainly not on Sunday."
+
+The Gaffer had engaged him as footman: his livery would be ready by
+Saturday, and he would enter service on Monday week. This reminded them
+that henceforth they would see each other every day, and, speaking of the
+pain it would give his mother when he came running downstairs to go out
+with the carriage, he said--
+
+"It was always her idea that I shouldn't be a servant, but I believe in
+doing what you gets most coin for doing. I should like to have been a
+jockey, and I could have ridden well enough--the Gaffer thought better at
+one time of my riding than he did of Ginger's. But I never had any luck;
+when I was about fifteen I began to grow.... If I could have remained like
+the Demon----"
+
+Esther looked at him, wondering if he were speaking seriously, and really
+wished away his splendid height and shoulders.
+
+A few days later he tried to persuade her to take a ticket in a shilling
+sweepstakes which he was getting up among the out and the indoor servants.
+She pleaded poverty--her wages would not be due till the end of August.
+But William offered to lend her the money, and he pressed the hat
+containing the bits of paper on which were written the horses' names so
+insinuatingly upon her that a sudden impulse to oblige him came over her,
+and before she had time to think she had put her hand in the hat and taken
+a number.
+
+"Come, none of your betting and gambling in my kitchen," said Mrs. Latch,
+turning from her work. "Why can't you leave that innocent girl alone?"
+
+"Don't be that disagreeable, mother; it ain't betting, it's a
+sweepstakes."
+
+"It is all the same," muttered Mrs. Latch; "it always begins that way, and
+it goes on from bad to worse. I never saw any good come from it, and
+Heaven knows I've seen enough misfortune."
+
+Margaret and Sarah paused, looking at her open-mouthed, a little
+perplexed, holding the numbers they had drawn in both hands. Esther had
+not unfolded hers. She looked at Mrs. Latch and regretted having taken the
+ticket in the lottery. She feared jeers from Sarah, or from Grover, who
+had just come in, for her inability to read the name of the horse she had
+drawn. Seeing her dilemma, William took her paper from her.
+
+"Silver Braid.... by Jingo! She has got the right one."
+
+At that moment the sound of hoofs was heard in the yard, and the servants
+flew to the window.
+
+"He'll win," cried William, leaning over the women's backs, waving his
+bony hand to the Demon, who rode past on Silver Braid. "The Gaffer will
+bring him to the post as fit as a fiddle."
+
+"I think he will," said Mr. Leopold. "The rain has done us a lot of good;
+he was beginning to go a bit short a week ago. We shall want some more
+rain. I should like to see it come down for the next week or more."
+
+Mr. Leopold's desires looked as if they were going to be fulfilled. The
+heavens seemed to have taken the fortunes of the stable in hand. Rain fell
+generally in the afternoon and night, leaving the mornings fine, and
+Silver Braid went the mile gaily, becoming harder and stronger. And in the
+intermittent swish of showers blown up from the sea Woodview grew joyous,
+and a conviction of ultimate triumph gathered and settled on every face
+except Mrs. Barfield's and Mrs. Latch's. And askance they looked at the
+triumphant little butler. He became more and more the topic of
+conversation. He seemed to hold the thread of their destiny in his press.
+Peggy was especially afraid of him.
+
+And, continuing her confidences to the under-housemaid, the young lady
+said, "I like to know things for the pleasure of talking about them, but
+he for the pleasure of holding his tongue." Peggy was Miss Margaret
+Barfield, a cousin, the daughter of a rich brewer. "If he brings in your
+letters in the morning he hands them to you just as if he knew whom they
+are from. Ugly little beast; it irritates me when he comes into the room."
+
+"He hates women, Miss; he never lets us near his pantry, and he keeps
+William there talking racing."
+
+"Ah, William is very different. He ought never to have been a servant. His
+family was once quite as good as the Barfields."
+
+"So I have heard, Miss. But the world is that full of ups and downs you
+never can tell who is who. But we all likes William and 'ates that little
+man and his pantry. Mrs. Latch calls him the 'evil genius.'"
+
+A furtive and clandestine little man, ashamed of his women-folk and
+keeping them out of sight as much as possible. His wife a pale, dim woman,
+tall as he was short, preserving still some of the graces of the
+lady's-maid, shy either by nature or by the severe rule of her lord,
+always anxious to obliterate herself against the hedges when you met her
+in the lane or against the pantry door when any of the family knocked to
+ask for hot water, or came with a letter for the post. By nature a
+bachelor, he was instinctively ashamed of his family, and when the
+weary-looking wife, the thin, shy girl, or the corpulent, stupid-faced son
+were with him and he heard steps outside, he would come out like a little
+wasp, and, unmistakably resenting the intrusion, would ask what was
+wanted.
+
+If it were Ginger, Mr. Leopold would say, "Can I do anything for you, Mr.
+Arthur?"
+
+"Oh, nothing, thank you; I only thought that----" and Ginger would invent
+some paltry excuse and slink away to smoke elsewhere.
+
+Every day, a little before twelve, Mr. Leopold went out for his morning
+walk; every day if it were fine you would meet him at that hour in the
+lane either coming from or going to Shoreham. For thirty years he had done
+his little constitutional, always taking the same road, always starting
+within a few minutes of twelve, always returning in time to lay the cloth
+for lunch at half-past one. The hour between twelve and one he spent in
+the little cottage which he rented from the squire for his wife and
+children, or in the "Red Lion," where he had a glass of beer and talked
+with Watkins, the bookmaker.
+
+"There he goes, off to the 'Red Lion,'" said Mrs. Latch. "They try to get
+some information out of him, but he's too sharp for them, and he knows it;
+that's what he goes there for--just for the pleasure of seeing them
+swallow the lies he tells them.... He has been telling them lies about the
+horses for the last twenty years, and still he get them to believe what he
+says. It is a cruel shame! It was the lies he told poor Jackson about Blue
+Beard that made the poor man back the horse for all he was worth."
+
+"And the horse didn't win?"
+
+"Win! The master didn't even intend to run him, and Jackson lost all he
+had, and more. He went down to the river and drowned himself. John Randal
+has that man's death on his conscience. But his conscience don't trouble
+him much; if it did he'd be in his grave long ago. Lies, lies, nothing but
+lies! But I daresay I'm too 'ard on him; isn't lies our natural lot? What
+is servants for but to lie when it is in their master's interest, and to
+be a confidential servant is to be the Prince of liars!"
+
+"Perhaps he didn't know the 'orse was scratched."
+
+"I see you are falling in nicely with the lingo of the trade."
+
+"Oh," replied Esther, laughing; "one never hears anything else; one picks
+it up without knowing. Mr. Leopold is very rich, so they say. The boys
+tell me that he won a pile over the City and Suburban, and has thousands
+in the bank."
+
+"So some says; but who knows what he has? One hears of the winnings, but
+they say very little about the losings."
+
+
+
+
+VI
+
+
+The boys were playing ball in the stables, but she did not feel as if she
+wanted to romp with them. There was a stillness and a sweetness abroad
+which penetrated and absorbed her. She moved towards the paddock gate; the
+pony and the donkey came towards her, and she rubbed their muzzles in
+turn. It was a pleasure to touch anything, especially anything alive. She
+even noticed that the elm trees were strangely tall and still against the
+calm sky, and the rich odour of some carnations which came through the
+bushes from the pleasure-ground excited her; the scent of earth and leaves
+tingled in her, and the cawing of the rooks coming home took her soul away
+skyward in an exquisite longing; she was, at the same time, full of
+romantic love for the earth, and of a desire to mix herself with the
+innermost essence of things. The beauty of the evening and the sea breeze
+instilled a sensation of immortal health, and she wondered if a young man
+came to her as young men came to the great ladies in Sarah's books, how it
+would be to talk in the dusk, seeing the bats flitting and the moon rising
+through the branches.
+
+The family was absent from Woodview, and she was free to enjoy the beauty
+of every twilight and every rising moon for still another week. But she
+wearied for a companion. Sarah and Grover were far too grand to walk out
+with her; and Margaret had a young man who came to fetch her, and in their
+room at night she related all he had said. But for Esther there was
+nothing to do all the long summer evenings but to sit at the kitchen
+window sewing. Her hands fell on her lap, and her heart heaved a sigh of
+weariness. In all this world there was nothing for her to do but to
+continue her sewing or to go for a walk on the hill. She was tired of that
+weary hill! But she could not sit in the kitchen till bedtime. She might
+meet the old shepherd coming home with his sheep, and she put a piece of
+bread in her pocket for his dogs and strolled up the hill-side. Margaret
+had gone down to the Gardens. One of these days a young man would come to
+take her out. What would he be like? She laughed the thought away. She did
+not think that any young man would bother much about her. Happening at
+that moment to look round, she saw a man coming through the hunting gate.
+His height and shoulders told her that he was William. "Trying to find
+Sarah," she thought. "I must not let him think I am waiting for him." She
+continued her walk, wondering if he were following, afraid to look round.
+At last she fancied she could hear footsteps; her heart beat faster. He
+called to her.
+
+"I think Sarah has gone to the Gardens," she said, turning round.
+
+"You always keep reminding me of Sarah. There's nothing between us;
+anything there ever was is all off long ago.... Are you going for a walk?"
+
+She was glad of the chance to get a mouthful of fresh air, and they went
+towards the hunting gate. William held it open and she passed through.
+
+The plantations were enclosed by a wooden fence, and beyond them the bare
+downs rose hill after hill. On the left the land sloped into a shallow
+valley sown with various crops; and the shaws about Elliot's farm were the
+last trees. Beyond the farmhouse the downs ascended higher and higher,
+treeless, irreclaimable, scooped into long patriarchal solitudes, thrown
+into wild crests.
+
+There was a smell of sheep in the air, and the flock trotted past them in
+good order, followed by the shepherd, a huge hat and a crook in his hand,
+and two shaggy dogs at his heels. A brace of partridges rose out of the
+sainfoin, and flew down the hills; and watching their curving flight
+Esther and William saw the sea under the sun-setting, and the string of
+coast towns.
+
+"A lovely evening, isn't it?"
+
+Esther acquiesced; and tempted by the warmth of the grass they sat down,
+and the mystery of the twilight found way into their consciousness.
+
+"We shan't have any rain yet awhile."
+
+"How do you know?"
+
+"I'll tell you," William answered, eager to show his superior knowledge.
+"Look due south-west, straight through that last dip in that line of
+hills. Do you see anything?"
+
+"No, I can see nothing," said Esther, after straining her eyes for a few
+moments.
+
+"I thought not.... Well, if it was going to rain you would see the Isle of
+Wight."
+
+For something to say, and hoping to please, Esther asked him where the
+race-course was.
+
+"There, over yonder. I can't show you the start, a long way behind that
+hill, Portslade way; then they come right along by that gorse and finish
+up by Truly barn--you can't see Truly barn from here, that's Thunder's
+barrow barn; they go quite half a mile farther."
+
+"And does all that land belong to the Gaffer?"
+
+"Yes, and a great deal more, too; but this down land isn't worth much--not
+more than about ten shillings an acre."
+
+"And how many acres are there?"
+
+"Do you mean all that we can see?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"The Gaffer's property reaches to Southwick Hill, and it goes north a long
+way. I suppose you don't know that all this piece, all that lies between
+us and that barn yonder, once belonged to my family."
+
+"To your family?"
+
+"Yes, the Latches were once big swells; in the time of my
+great-grandfather the Barfields could not hold their heads as high as the
+Latches. My great-grandfather had a pot of money, but it all went."
+
+"Racing?"
+
+"A good bit, I've no doubt. A rare 'ard liver, cock-fighting, 'unting,
+'orse-racing from one year's end to the other. Then after 'im came my
+grandfather; he went to the law, and a sad mess he made of it--went
+stony-broke and left my father without a sixpence; that is why mother
+didn't want me to go into livery. The family 'ad been coming down for
+generations, and mother thought that I was born to restore it; and so I
+was, but not as she thought, by carrying parcels up and down the King's
+Road."
+
+Esther looked at William in silent admiration, and, feeling that he had
+secured an appreciative listener, he continued his monologue regarding the
+wealth and rank his family had formerly held, till a heavy dew forced them
+to their feet. In front of them was the moon, and out of the forlorn sky
+looked down the misted valleys; the crests of the hills were still touched
+with light, and lights flew from coast town to coast town, weaving a
+luminous garland.
+
+The sheep had been folded, and seeing them lying in the greyness of this
+hill-side, and beyond them the massive moonlit landscape and the vague
+sea, Esther suddenly became aware, as she had never done before, of the
+exceeding beauty of the world. Looking up in William's face, she said--
+
+"Oh, how beautiful!"
+
+As they descended the drove-way their feet raised the chalk, and William
+said--
+
+"This is bad for Silver Braid; we shall want some more rain in a day or
+two.... Let's come for a walk round the farm," he said suddenly. "The farm
+belongs to the Gaffer, but he's let the Lodge to a young fellow called
+Johnson. He's the chap that Peggy used to go after--there was awful rows
+about that, and worse when he forestalled the Gaffer about Egmont."
+
+The conversation wandered agreeably, and they became more conscious of
+each other. He told her all he knew about the chap who had jilted Miss
+Mary, and the various burlesque actresses at the Shoreham Gardens who had
+captivated Ginger's susceptible heart. While listening she suddenly became
+aware that she had never been so happy before. Now all she had endured
+seemed accidental; she felt that she had entered into the permanent; and
+in the midst of vague but intense sensations William showed her the
+pigeon-house with all the blue birds dozing on the tiles, a white one here
+and there. They visited the workshop, the forge, and the old cottages
+where the bailiff and the shepherd lived; and all this inanimate
+nature--the most insignificant objects--seemed inspired, seemed like
+symbols of her emotion.
+
+They left the farm and wandered on the high road until a stile leading to
+a cornfield beguiled and then delayed their steps.
+
+The silence of the moonlight was clear and immense; and they listened to
+the trilling of the nightingale in the copse hard by. First they sought to
+discover the brown bird in the branches of the poor hedge, and then the
+reason of the extraordinary emotion in their hearts. It seemed that all
+life was beating in that moment, and they were as it were inflamed to
+reach out their hands to life and to grasp it together. Even William
+noticed that. And the moon shone on the mist that had gathered on the long
+marsh lands of the foreshore. Beyond the trees the land wavered out into
+down land, the river gleamed and intensely.
+
+This moment was all the poetry of their lives. The striking of a match to
+light his pipe, which had gone out, put the music to flight, and all along
+the white road he continued his monologue, interrupted only by the
+necessity of puffing at his pipe.
+
+"Mother says that if I had twopence worth of pride in me I wouldn't have
+consented to put on the livery; but what I says to mother is, 'What's the
+use of having pride if you haven't money?' I tells her that I am rotten
+with pride, but my pride is to make money. I can't see that the man what
+is willing to remain poor all his life has any pride at all.... But, Lord!
+I have argued with mother till I'm sick; she can see nothing further than
+the livery; that's what women are--they are that short-sighted.... A lot
+of good it would have done me to have carried parcels all my life, and
+when I could do four mile an hour no more, to be turned out to die in the
+ditch and be buried by the parish. 'Not good enough,' says I. 'If that's
+your pride, mother, you may put it in your pipe and smoke it, and as you
+'aven't got a pipe, perhaps behind the oven will do as well,'--that's what
+I said to her. I saw well enough there was nothing for me but service, and
+I means to stop here until I can get on three or four good things and then
+retire into a nice comfortable public-house and do my own betting."
+
+"You would give up betting then?"
+
+"I'd give up backing 'orses, if you mean that.... What I should like would
+be to get on to a dozen good things at long prices--half-a-dozen like
+Silver Braid would do it. For a thousand or fifteen hundred pounds I could
+have the 'Red Lion,' and just inside my own bar I could do a hundred-pound
+book on all the big races."
+
+Esther listened, hearing interminable references to jockeys, publicans,
+weights, odds, and the certainty, if he had the "Red Lion," of being able
+to get all Joe Walker's betting business away from him. Allusions to the
+police, and the care that must be taken not to bet with anyone who had not
+been properly introduced, frightened her; but her fears died in the
+sensation of his arm about her waist, and the music that the striking of a
+match had put to flight had begun again in the next plantation, and it
+began again in their hearts. But if he were going to marry Sarah! The idea
+amused him; he laughed loudly, and they walked up the avenue, his face
+bent over hers.
+
+
+
+
+VII
+
+
+The Barfield calculation was that they had a stone in hand. Bayleaf, Mr.
+Leopold argued, would be backed to win a million of money if he were
+handicapped in the race at seven stone; and Silver Braid, who had been
+tried again with Bayleaf, and with the same result as before, had been let
+off with only six stone.
+
+More rain had fallen, the hay-crop had been irretrievably ruined, the
+prospects of the wheat harvest were jeopardized, but what did a few
+bushels of wheat matter? Another pound of muscle in those superb
+hind-quarters was worth all the corn that could be grown between here and
+Henfield. Let the rain come down, let every ear of wheat be destroyed, so
+long as those delicate fore-legs remained sound. These were the ethics
+that obtained at Woodview, and within the last few days showed signs of
+adoption by the little town and not a few of the farmers, grown tired of
+seeing their crops rotting on the hill-sides. The fever of the gamble was
+in eruption, breaking out in unexpected places--the station-master, the
+porters, the flymen, all had their bit on, and notwithstanding the
+enormous favouritism of two other horses in the race--Prisoner and Stoke
+Newington--Silver Braid had advanced considerably in the betting. Reports
+of trials won had reached Brighton, and not more than five-and-twenty to
+one could now be obtained.
+
+The discovery that the Demon had gone up several pounds in weight had
+introduced the necessary alloy into the mintage of their happiness; the
+most real consternation prevailed, and the strictest investigation was
+made as to when and how he had obtained the quantities of food required to
+produce such a mass of adipose tissue. Then the Gaffer had the boy
+upstairs and administered to him a huge dose of salts, seeing him swallow
+every drop; and when the effects of the medicine had worn off he was sent
+for a walk to Portslade in two large overcoats, and was accompanied by
+William, whose long legs led the way so effectively. On his return a
+couple of nice feather beds were ready, and Mr. Leopold and Mr. Swindles
+themselves laid him between them, and when they noticed that he was
+beginning to cease to perspire Mr. Leopold made him a nice cup of hot tea.
+
+"That's the way the Gaffer used to get the flesh off in the old days when
+he rode the winner at Liverpool."
+
+"It's the Demon's own fault," said Mr. Swindles; "if he hadn't been so
+greedy he wouldn't have had to sweat, and we should 'ave been spared a
+deal of bother and anxiety."
+
+"Greedy!" murmured the little boy, in whom the warm tea had induced a new
+perspiration; "I haven't had what you might call a dinner for the last
+three months. I think I'll chuck the whole thing."
+
+"Not until this race is over," said Mr. Swindles. "Supposing I was to pass
+the warming-pan down these 'ere sheets. What do you say, Mr. Leopold? They
+are beginning to feel a bit cold."
+
+"Cold! I 'ope you'll never go to a 'otter place. For God's sake, Mr.
+Leopold, don't let him come near me with the warming-pan, or else he'll
+melt the little flesh that's left off me."
+
+"You 'ad better not make such a fuss," said Mr. Leopold; "if you don't do
+what you are told, you'll have to take salts again and go for another walk
+with William."
+
+"If we don't warm up them sheets 'e'll dry up," said Mr. Swindles.
+
+"No, I won't; I'm teeming."
+
+"Be a good boy, and you shall have a nice cut of mutton when you get up,"
+said Mr. Leopold.
+
+"How much? Two slices?"
+
+"Well, you see, we can't promise; it all depends on how much has come off,
+and 'aving once got it hoff, we don't want to put it on again."
+
+"I never did 'ear such rot," said Swindles. "In my time a boy's feelings
+weren't considered--one did what one considered good for them."
+
+Mr. Leopold strove to engage the Demon's attention with compliments
+regarding his horsemanship in the City and Sub. while Mr. Swindles raised
+the bedclothes.
+
+"Oh, Mr. Swindles, you are burning me."
+
+"For 'eaven's sake don't let him start out from under the bed like that!
+Can't yer 'old him? Burning you! I never even touched you with it; it was
+the sheet that you felt."
+
+"Then the sheet is at 'ot as the bloody fire. Will yer leave off?"
+
+"What! a Demon like you afraid of a little touch of 'eat; wouldn't 'ave
+believed it unless I 'ad 'eard it with my own ears," said Mr. Leopold.
+"Come, now, do yer want to ride the crack at Goodwood or do yer not? If
+you do, remain quiet, and let us finish taking off the last couple of
+pounds."
+
+"It is the last couple of pounds that takes it out of one; the first lot
+comes off jest like butter," said the boy, rolling out of the way of the
+pan. "I know what it will be; I shall be so weak that I shall just ride a
+stinking bad race."
+
+Mr. Leopold and Mr. Swindles exchanged glances. It was clear they thought
+that there was something in the last words of the fainting Demon, and the
+pan was withdrawn. But when the boy was got into the scale again it was
+found that he was not yet nearly the right weight, and the Gaffer ordered
+another effort to be made. The Demon pleaded that his feet were sore, but
+he was sent off to Portslade in charge of the redoubtable William.
+
+And as the last pounds came off the Demon's little carcass Mr. Leopold's
+face resumed a more tranquil expression. It began to be whispered that
+instead of hedging any part of his money he would stand it all out, and
+one day a market gardener brought up word that he had seen Mr. Leopold
+going into Brighton.
+
+"Old Watkins isn't good enough for him, that's about it. If Silver Braid
+wins, Woodview will see very little more of Mr. Leopold. He'll be for
+buying one of them big houses on the sea road and keeping his own trap."
+
+
+
+
+VIII
+
+
+The great day was now fast approaching, and the Gaffer had promised to
+drive his folk in a drag to Goodwood. No more rain was required, the
+colt's legs remained sound, and three days of sunshine would make all the
+difference in their sum of happiness. In the kitchen Mrs. Latch and Esther
+had been busy for some time with chickens and pies and jellies, and in the
+passage there were cases packed with fruit and wine. The dressmaker had
+come from Worthing, and for several days the young ladies had not left
+her. And one fine morning, very early--about eight o'clock--the wheelers
+were backed into the drag that had come from Brighton, and the yard
+resounded with the blaring of the horn. Ginger was practising under his
+sister's window.
+
+"You'll be late! You'll be late!"
+
+With the exception of two young gentlemen, who had come at the invitation
+of the young ladies, it was quite a family party. Miss Mary sat beside her
+father on the box, and looked very charming in white and blue. Peggy's
+black hair seemed blacker than ever under a white silk parasol, which she
+waved negligently above her as she stood up calling and talking to
+everyone until the Gaffer told her angrily to sit down, as he was going to
+start. Then William and the coachman let go the leaders' heads, and
+running side by side swung themselves into their seats. At the same moment
+a glimpse was caught of Mr. Leopold's sallow profile amid the boxes and
+the mackintoshes that filled the inside of the coach.
+
+"Oh, William did look that handsome in those beautiful new clothes!
+...Everyone said so--Sarah and Margaret and Miss Grover. I'm sorry you did
+not come out to see him."
+
+Mrs. Latch made no answer, and Esther remembered how she hated her son to
+wear livery, and thought that she had perhaps made a mistake in saying
+that Mrs. Latch should have come out to see him. "Perhaps this will make
+her dislike me again," thought the girl. Mrs. Latch moved about rapidly,
+and she opened and closed the oven; then, raising her eyes to the window
+and seeing that the other women were still standing in the yard and safely
+out of hearing, she said--
+
+"Do you think that he has bet much on this race?"
+
+"Oh, how should I know, Mrs. Latch?... But the horse is certain to win."
+
+"Certain to win! I have heard that tale before; they are always certain to
+win. So they have won you round to their way of thinking, have they?" said
+Mrs. Latch, straightening her back.
+
+"I know very well indeed that it is not right to bet; but what can I do, a
+poor girl like me? If it hadn't been for William I never would have taken
+a number in that sweepstakes."
+
+"Do you like him very much, then?"
+
+"He has been very kind to me--he was kind when--"
+
+"Yes, I know, when I was unkind. I was unkind to you when you first came.
+You don't know all. I was much troubled at that time, and somehow I did
+not--. But there is no ill-feeling?... I'll make it up to you--I'll teach
+you how to be a cook."
+
+"Oh, Mrs. Latch, I am sure----"
+
+"Never mind that. When you went out to walk with him the other night, did
+he tell you that he had many bets on the race?"
+
+"He talked about the race, like everyone else, but he did not tell me what
+bets he had on."
+
+"No, they never do do that.... But you'll not tell him that I asked you?"
+
+"No, Mrs. Latch, I promise."
+
+"It would do no good, he'd only be angry; it would only set him against
+me. I am afraid that nothing will stop him now. Once they get a taste for
+it it is like drink. I wish he was married, that might get him out of it.
+Some woman who would have an influence over him, some strong-minded woman.
+I thought once that you were strong-minded----"
+
+At that moment Sarah and Grover entered the kitchen talking loudly. They
+asked Mrs. Latch how soon they could have dinner--the sooner the better,
+for the Saint had told them that they were free to go out for the day.
+They were to try to be back before eight, that was all. Ah! the Saint was
+a first-rate sort. She had said that she did not want anyone to attend on
+her. She would, get herself a bit of lunch in the dining-room. Mrs. Latch
+allowed Esther to hurry on the dinner, and by one o'clock they had all
+finished. Sarah and Margaret were going into Brighton to do some shopping,
+Grover was going to Worthing to spend the afternoon with the wife of one
+of the guards of the Brighton and South Coast Railway. Mrs. Latch went
+upstairs to lie down. So it grew lonelier and lonelier in the kitchen.
+Esther's sewing fell out of her hands, and she wondered what she should
+do. She thought that she might go down to the beach, and soon after she
+put on her hat and stood thinking, remembering that she had not been by
+the sea, that she had not seen the sea since she was a little girl. But
+she remembered the tall ships that came into the harbour, sail falling
+over sail, and the tall ships that floated out of the harbour, sail rising
+over sail, catching the breeze as they went aloft--she remembered them.
+
+A suspension bridge, ornamented with straight-tailed lions, took her over
+the weedy river, and having crossed some pieces of rough grass, she
+climbed the shingle bank. The heat rippled the blue air, and the sea, like
+an exhausted caged beast, licked the shingle. Sea-poppies bloomed under
+the wheels of a decaying bathing-machine, and Esther wondered. But the sea
+here was lonely as a prison, and, seeing the treeless coast with its chain
+of towns, her thoughts suddenly reverted to William. She wished he were
+with her, and for pleasant contemplation she thought of that happy evening
+when she saw him coming through the hunting gate, when, his arm about her,
+William had explained that if the horse won she would take seven shillings
+out of the sweepstakes. She knew now that William did not care about
+Sarah; and that he cared for her had given a sudden and unexpected meaning
+to her existence. She lay on the shingle, her day-dream becoming softer
+and more delicate as it rounded into summer sleep.
+
+And when the light awoke her she saw flights of white clouds--white up
+above, rose-coloured as they approached the west; and when she turned, a
+tall, melancholy woman.
+
+"Good evening, Mrs. Randal," said Esther, glad to find someone to speak
+to. "I've been asleep."
+
+"Good evening, Miss. You're from Woodview, I think?"
+
+"Yes, I'm the kitchen-maid. They've gone to the races; there was nothing
+to do, so I came down here."
+
+Mrs. Randal's lips moved as if she were going to say something. But she
+did not speak. Soon after she rose to her feet. "I think that it must be
+getting near tea-time; I must be going. You might come in and have a cup
+of tea with me, if you're not in a hurry back to Woodview."
+
+Esther was surprised at so much condescension, and in silence the two
+women crossed the meadows that lay between the shingle bank and the river.
+Trains were passing all the while, scattering, it seemed, in their noisy
+passage over the spider-legged bridge, the news from Goodwood. The news
+seemed to be borne along shore in the dust, and, as if troubled by
+prescience of the news, Mrs. Randal said, as she unlocked the cottage
+door----
+
+"It is all over now. The people in those trains know well enough which has
+won."
+
+"Yes, I suppose they know, and somehow I feel as if I knew too. I feel as
+if Silver Braid had won."
+
+Mrs. Randal's home was gaunt as herself. Everything looked as if it had
+been scraped, and the spare furniture expressed a meagre, lonely life. She
+dropped a plate as she laid the table, and stood pathetically looking at
+the pieces. When Esther asked for a teaspoon she gave way utterly.
+
+"I haven't one to give you; I had forgotten that they were gone. I should
+have remembered and not asked you to tea."
+
+"It don't matter, Mrs. Randal; I can stir up my tea with anything--a
+knitting-needle will do very well--"
+
+"I should have remembered and not asked you back to tea; but I was so
+miserable, and it is so lonely sitting in this house, that I could stand
+it no longer.... Talking to you saved me from thinking, and I did not want
+to think until this race was over. If Silver Braid is beaten we are
+ruined. Indeed, I don't know what will become of us. For fifteen years I
+have borne up; I have lived on little at the best of times, and very often
+have gone without; but that is nothing compared to the anxiety--to see him
+come in with a white face, to see him drop into a chair and hear him say,
+'Beaten a head on the post,' or 'Broke down, otherwise he would have won
+in a canter.' I have always tried to be a good wife and tried to console
+him, and to do the best when he said, 'I have lost half a year's wages, I
+don't know how we shall pull through.' I have borne with ten thousand
+times more than I can tell you. The sufferings of a gambler's wife cannot
+be told. Tell me, what do you think my feelings must have been when one
+night I heard him calling me out of my sleep, when I heard him say, 'I
+can't die, Annie, without bidding you good-bye. I can only hope that you
+will be able to pull through, and I know that the Gaffer will do all he
+can for you, but he has been hit awful hard too. You mustn't think too
+badly of me, Annie, but I have had such a bad time that I couldn't put up
+with it any longer, and I thought the best thing I could do would be to
+go.' That's just how he talked--nice words to hear your husband speak in
+your ear through the darkness! There was no time to send for the doctor,
+so I jumped out of bed, put the kettle on, and made him drink glass after
+glass of salt and water. At last he brought up the laudanum."
+
+Esther listened to the melancholy woman, and remembered the little man
+whom she saw every day so orderly, so precise, so sedate, so methodical,
+so unemotional, into whose life she thought no faintest emotion had ever
+entered--and this was the truth.
+
+"So long as I only had myself to think of I didn't mind; but now there are
+the children growing up. He should think of them. Heaven only knows what
+will become of them... John is as kind a husband as ever was if it weren't
+for that one fault; but he cannot resist having something on any more than
+a drunkard can resist the bar-room."
+
+"Winner, winner, winner of the Stewards' Cup!"
+
+The women started to their feet. When they got into the street the boy was
+far away; besides, neither had a penny to pay for the paper, and they
+wandered about the town hearing and seeing nothing, so nervous were they.
+At last Esther proposed to ask at the "Red Lion" who had won. Mrs. Randal
+begged her to refrain, urging that she was unable to bear the tidings
+should it be evil.
+
+"Silver Braid," the barman answered. The girl rushed through the doors.
+"It is all right, it is all right; he has won!"
+
+Soon after the little children in the lane were calling forth "Silver
+Braid won!" And overcome by the excitement Esther walked along the
+sea-road to meet the drag. She walked on and on until the sound of the
+horn came through the crimson evening and she saw the leaders trotting in
+a cloud of dust. Ginger was driving, and he shouted to her, "He won!" The
+Gaffer waved the horn and shouted, "He won!" Peggy waved her broken
+parasol and shouted, "He won!" Esther looked at William. He leaned over
+the back seat and shouted, "He won!" She had forgotten all about late
+dinner. What would Mrs. Latch say? On such a day as this she would say
+nothing.
+
+
+
+
+IX
+
+
+Nearly everything came down untouched. Eating and drinking had been in
+progress almost all day on the course, and Esther had finished washing up
+before nine, and had laid the cloth in the servants' hall for supper. But
+if little was eaten upstairs, plenty was eaten downstairs; the mutton was
+finished in a trice, and Mrs. Latch had to fetch from the larder what
+remained of a beefsteak pudding. Even then they were not satisfied, and
+fine inroads were made into a new piece of cheese. Beer, according to
+orders, was served without limit, and four bottles of port were sent down
+so that the health of the horse might be adequately drunk.
+
+While assuaging their hunger the men had exchanged many allusive remarks
+regarding the Demon's bad ending, how nearly he had thrown the race away;
+and the meal being now over, and there being nothing to do but to sit and
+talk, Mr. Leopold, encouraged by William, entered on an elaborate and
+technical account of the race. The women listened, playing with a rind of
+cheese, glancing at the cheese itself, wondering if they could manage
+another slice, and the men sipping their port wine, puffing at their
+pipes, William listening most avidly of all, enjoying each sporting term,
+and ingeniously reminding Mr. Leopold of some detail whenever he seemed
+disposed to shorten his narrative. The criticism of the Demon's
+horsemanship took a long while, for by a variety of suggestive remarks
+William led Mr. Leopold into reminiscences of the skill of certain famous
+jockeys in the first half of the century. These digressions wearied Sarah
+and Grover, and their thoughts wandered to the dresses that had been worn
+that day, and the lady's-maid remembered she would hear all that
+interested her that night in the young ladies' rooms. At last, losing all
+patience, Sarah declared that she didn't care what Chifney had said when
+he just managed to squeeze his horse's head in front in the last dozen
+yards, she wanted to know what the Demon had done to so nearly lose the
+race--had he mistaken the winning-post and pulled up? William looked at
+her contemptuously, and would have answered rudely, but at that moment Mr.
+Leopold began to tell the last instructions that the Gaffer had given the
+Demon. The orders were that the Demon should go right up to the leaders
+before they reached the half-mile, and remain there. Of course, if he
+found that he was a stone or more in hand, as the Gaffer expected, he
+might come away pretty well as he liked, for the greatest danger was that
+the horse might get shut out or might show temper and turn it up.
+
+"Well," said Mr. Leopold, "there were two false starts, and Silver Braid
+must have galloped a couple of 'undred yards afore the Demon could stop
+him. There wasn't twopence-halfpenny worth of strength in him--pulling off
+those three or four pounds pretty well finished him. He'll never be able
+to ride that weight again.... He said afore starting that he felt weak;
+you took him along too smartly from Portslade the last time you went
+there."
+
+"When he went by himself he'd stop playing marbles with the boys round the
+Southwick public-house."
+
+"If there had been another false start I think it would have been all up
+with us. The Gaffer was quite pale, and he stood there not taking his
+glasses from his eyes. There were over thirty of them, so you can imagine
+how hard it was to get them into line. However, at the third attempt they
+were got straight and away they came, a black line stretching right across
+the course. Presently the black cap and jacket came to the front, and not
+very long after a murmur went round, 'Silver Braid wins.' Never saw
+anything like it in all my life. He was three lengths a'ead, and the
+others were pulling off. 'Damn the boy; he'll win by twenty lengths,' said
+the Gaffer, without removing his glasses. But when within a few yards of
+the stand----"
+
+At that moment the bell rang. Mr. Leopold said, "There, they are wanting
+their tea; I must go and get it."
+
+"Drat their tea," said Margaret; "they can wait. Finish up; tell us how he
+won."
+
+Mr. Leopold looked round, and seeing every eye fixed on him he considered
+how much remained of the story, and with quickened speech continued,
+"Well, approaching the stand, I noticed that Silver Braid was not going
+quite so fast, and at the very instant the Demon looked over his shoulder,
+and seeing he was losing ground he took up the whip. But the moment he
+struck him the horse swerved right across the course, right under the
+stand, running like a rat from underneath the whip. The Demon caught him
+one across the nose with his left hand, but seeing what was 'appening, the
+Tinman, who was on Bullfinch, sat down and began riding. I felt as if
+there was a lump of ice down my back," and Mr. Leopold lowered his voice,
+and his face became grave as he recalled that perilous moment. "I thought
+it was all over," he said, "and the Gaffer thought the same; I never saw a
+man go so deadly pale. It was all the work of a moment, but that moment
+was more than a year--at least, so it seemed to me. Well, about half-way
+up the rails the Tinman got level with the Demon. It was ten to one that
+Silver Braid would turn it up, or that the boy wouldn't 'ave the strength
+to ride out so close a finish as it was bound to be. I thought then of the
+way you used to take him along from Portslade, and I'd have given
+something to've put a pound or two of flesh into his thighs and arms. The
+Tinman was riding splendid, getting every ounce and something more out of
+Bullfinch. The Demon, too weak to do much, was sitting nearly quite still.
+It looked as if it was all up with us, but somehow Silver Braid took to
+galloping of his own accord, and 'aving such a mighty lot in 'and he won
+on the post by a 'ead--a short 'ead.... I never felt that queer in my life
+and the Gaffer was no better; but I said to him, just afore the numbers
+went up, 'It is all right, sir, he's just done it,' and when the right
+number went up I thought everything was on the dance, going for swim like.
+By golly, it was a near thing!" At the end of a long silence Mr. Leopold
+said, shaking himself out of his thoughts, "Now I must go and get their
+tea."
+
+Esther sat at the end of the table; her cheek leaned on her hand. By
+turning her eyes she could see William. Sarah noticed one of these
+stealthy backward glances and a look of anger crossed her face, and
+calling to William she asked him when the sweepstakes money would be
+divided. The question startled William from a reverie of small bets, and
+he answered that there was no reason why the sweepstakes money should not
+be divided at once.
+
+"There was twelve. That's right, isn't it?--Sarah, Margaret, Esther, Miss
+Grover, Mr. Leopold, myself, the four boys, and Swindles and Wall....
+Well, it was agreed that seven should go to the first, three to the
+second, and two to the third. No one got the third 'orse, so I suppose the
+two shillings that would have gone to him 'ad better be given to the
+first."
+
+"Given to the first! Why, that's Esther! Why should she get it?... What do
+you mean? No third! Wasn't Soap-bubble third?"
+
+"Yes, Soap-bubble was third right enough, but he wasn't in the sweep."
+
+"And why wasn't he?"
+
+"Because he wasn't among the eleven first favourites. We took them as they
+were quoted in the betting list published in the _Sportsman_."
+
+"How was it, then, that you put in Silver Braid?"
+
+"Yer needn't get so angry, Sarah, no one's cheating; it is all above
+board. If you don't believe us, you'd better accuse us straight out."
+
+"What I want to know is, why Silver Braid was included?--he wasn't among
+the eleven first favourites."
+
+"Oh, don't be so stupid, Sarah; you know that we agreed to make an
+exception in favour of our own 'orse--a nice sweep it would 'ave been if
+we 'adn't included Silver Braid."
+
+"And suppose," she exclaimed, tightening her brows, "that Soap-bubble had
+won, what would have become of our money?"
+
+"It would have been returned--everyone would have got his shilling back."
+
+"And now I am to get three shillings, and that little Methodist or
+Plymouth Brethren there, whatever you like to call her, is to get nine!"
+said Sarah, with a light of inspiration flashing through her beer-clouded
+mind. "Why should the two shillings that would have gone to Soap-bubble,
+if anyone 'ad drawn 'im, go to the first 'orse rather than to the second?"
+
+William hesitated, unable for the moment to give a good reason why the
+extra two shillings should be given to Silver Braid; and Sarah, perceiving
+her advantage, deliberately accused him of wishing to favour Esther.
+
+"Don't we know that you went out to walk with her, and that you remained
+out till nearly eleven at night. That's why you want all the money to go
+to her. You don't take us for a lot of fools, do you? Never in any place I
+ever was in before would such a thing be allowed--the footman going out
+with the kitchen-maid, and one of the Dissenting lot."
+
+"I am not going to have my religion insulted! How dare you?" And Esther
+started up from her place; but William was too quick for her. He grasped
+her arm.
+
+"Never mind what Sarah says."
+
+"Never mind what I says! ...A thing like that, who never was in a
+situation before; no doubt taken out of some 'ouse. Rescue work, I think
+they call it----"
+
+"She shan't insult me--no, she shan't!" said Esther, tremulous with
+passion.
+
+"A nice sort of person to insult!" said Sarah, her arms akimbo.
+
+"Now look you here, Sarah Tucker," said Mrs. Latch, starting from her
+seat, "I'm not going to see that girl aggravated, so that she may do what
+she shouldn't do, and give you an opportunity of going to the missis with
+tales about her. Come away, Esther, come with me. Let them go on betting
+if they will; I never saw no good come of it."
+
+"That's all very fine, mother; but it must be settled, and we have to
+divide the money."
+
+"I don't want your money," said Esther, sullenly; "I wouldn't take it."
+
+"What blooming nonsense! You must take your money. Ah, here's Mr. Leopold!
+he'll decide it."
+
+Mr. Leopold said at once that the money that under other circumstances
+would have gone to the third horse must be divided between the first and
+second; but Sarah refused to accept this decision. Finally, it was
+proposed that the matter should be referred to the editor of the
+_Sportsman_; and as Sarah still remained deaf to argument, William offered
+her choice between the _Sportsman_ and the _Sporting Life_.
+
+"Look here," said William, getting between the women; "this evening isn't
+one for fighting; we have all won our little bit, and ought to be
+thankful. The only difference between you is two shillings, that were to
+have gone to the third horse if anyone had drawn him. Mr. Leopold says it
+ought to be divided; you, Sarah, won't accept his decision. We have
+offered to write to the _Sportsman_, and Esther has offered to give up her
+claim. Now, in the name of God, tell us what do you want?"
+
+She raised some wholly irrelevant issue, and after a protracted argument
+with William, largely composed of insulting remarks, she declared that she
+wasn't going to take the two shillings, nor yet one of them; let them give
+her the three she had won--that was all she wanted. William looked at her,
+shrugged his shoulders, and, after declaring that it was his conviction
+that women wasn't intended to have nothing to do with horse-racing, he
+took up his pipe and tobacco-pouch.
+
+"Good-night, ladies, I have had enough of you for to-night; I am going to
+finish my smoke in the pantry. Don't scratch all your 'air out; leave
+enough for me to put into a locket."
+
+When the pantry door was shut, and the men had smoked some moments in
+silence, William said--
+
+"Do you think he has any chance of winning the Chesterfield Cup?"
+
+"He'll win in a canter if he'll only run straight. If I was the Gaffer I
+think I'd put up a bigger boy. He'll 'ave to carry a seven-pound penalty,
+and Johnnie Scott could ride that weight."
+
+The likelihood that a horse will bolt with one jockey and run straight
+with another was argued passionately, and illustrated with interesting
+reminiscences drawn from that remote past when Mr. Leopold was the
+Gaffer's private servant--before either of them had married--when life was
+composed entirely of horse-racing and prize-fighting. But cutting short
+his tale of how he had met one day the Birmingham Chicken in a booth, and,
+not knowing who he was, had offered to fight him, Mr. Leopold confessed he
+did not know how to act--he had a bet of fifty pounds to ten shillings for
+the double event; should he stand it out or lay some of it off? William
+thrilled with admiration. What a 'ead, and who'd think it? that little
+'ead, hardly bigger than a cocoanut! What a brain there was inside! Fifty
+pounds to ten shillings; should he stand it out or hedge some of it? Who
+could tell better than Mr. Leopold? It would, of course, be a pity to
+break into the fifty. What did ten shillings matter? Mr. Leopold was a big
+enough man to stand the racket of it even if it didn't come back. William
+felt very proud of being consulted, for Mr. Leopold had never before been
+known to let anyone know what he had on a race.
+
+Next day they walked into Shoreham together. The bar of the "Red Lion" was
+full of people. Above the thronging crowd the voice of the barman and the
+customers were heard calling, "Two glasses of Burton, glass of bitter,
+three of whiskey cold." There were railway porters, sailors, boatmen,
+shop-boys, and market gardeners. They had all won something, and had come
+for their winnings.
+
+Old Watkins, an elderly man with white whiskers and a curving stomach, had
+just run in to wet his whistle. He walked back to his office with Mr.
+Leopold and William, a little corner shelved out of some out-houses, into
+which you could walk from the street.
+
+"Talk of favourites!" he said; "I'd sooner pay over the three first
+favourites than this one--thirty, twenty to one starting price, and the
+whole town onto him; it's enough to break any man.... Now, my men, what is
+it?" he said, turning to the railway porters.
+
+"Just the trifle me and my mates 'av won over that 'ere 'orse."
+
+"What was it?"
+
+"A shilling at five and twenty to one."
+
+"Look it out, Joey. Is it all right?"
+
+"Yes, sir; yes, sir," said the clerk.
+
+And old Watkins slid his hand into his breeches pocket, and it came forth
+filled with gold and silver.
+
+"Come, come, mates, we are bound to 'ave a bet on him for the
+Chesterfield--we can afford it now; what say yer, a shilling each?"
+
+"Done for a shilling each," said the under-porter; "finest 'orse in
+training.... What price, Musser Watkins?"
+
+"Ten to one."
+
+"Right, 'ere's my bob."
+
+The other porters gave their shillings; Watkins slid them back into his
+pocket, and called to Joey to book the bet.
+
+"And, now, what is yours, Mr. Latch?"
+
+William stated the various items. He had had a bet of ten shillings to one
+on one race and had lost; he had had half-a-crown on another and had lost;
+in a word, three-and-sixpence had to be subtracted from his winnings on
+Silver Braid. These amounted to more than five pounds. William's face
+flushed with pleasure, and the world seemed to be his when he slipped four
+sovereigns and a handful of silver into his waistcoat pocket. Should he
+put a sovereign of his winnings on Silver Braid for the Chesterfield?
+Half-a-sovereign was enough! ...The danger of risking a sovereign--a whole
+sovereign--frightened him.
+
+"Now, Mr. Latch," said old Watkins, "if you want to back anything, make up
+your mind; there are a good many besides yourself who have business with
+me."
+
+William hesitated, and then said he'd take ten half-sovereigns to one
+against Silver Braid.
+
+"Ten half-sovereigns to one?" said old Watkins.
+
+William murmured "Yes," and Joey booked the bet.
+
+Mr. Leopold's business demanded more consideration. The fat betting man
+and the scarecrow little butler walked aside and talked, both apparently
+indifferent to the impatience of a number of small customers; sometimes
+Joey called in his shrill cracked voice if he might lay ten half-crowns to
+one, or five shillings to one, as the case might be. Watkins would then
+raise his eyes from Mr. Leopold's face and nod or shake his head, or
+perhaps would sign with his fingers what odds he was prepared to lay. With
+no one else would Watkins talk so lengthily, showing so much deference.
+Mr. Leopold had the knack of investing all he did with an air of mystery,
+and the deepest interest was evinced in this conversation. At last, as if
+dismissing matters of first importance, the two men approached William,
+and he heard Watkins pressing Mr. Leopold to lay off some of that fifty
+pounds.
+
+"I'll take twelve to one--twenty-four pounds to two. Shall I book it?"
+
+Mr. Leopold shook his head, and, smiling enigmatically, said he must be
+getting back. William was much impressed, and congratulated himself on his
+courage in taking the ten half-sovereigns to one. Mr. Leopold knew a thing
+or two; he had been talking to the Gaffer that morning, and if it hadn't
+been all right he would have laid off some of the money.
+
+Next day one of the Gaffer's two-year-olds won a race, and the day after
+Silver Braid won the Chesterfield Cup.
+
+The second victory of Silver Braid nearly ruined old Watkins. He declared
+that he had never been so hard hit; but as he did not ask for time and
+continued to draw notes and gold and silver in handfuls from his capacious
+pockets, his lamentations only served to stimulate the happiness of the
+fortunate backers, and, listening to the sweet note of self ringing in
+their hearts, they returned to the public-house to drink the health of the
+horse.
+
+So the flood of gold continued to roll into the little town, decrepit and
+colourless by its high shingle beach and long reaches of muddy river. The
+dear gold jingled merrily in the pockets, quickening the steps, lightening
+the heart, curling lips with smiles, opening lips with laughter. The dear
+gold came falling softly, sweetly as rain, soothing the hard lives of
+working folk. Lives pressed with toil lifted up and began to dream again.
+The dear gold was like an opiate; it wiped away memories of hardship and
+sorrow, it showed life in a lighter and merrier guise, and the folk
+laughed at their fears for the morrow and wondered how they could have
+thought life so hard and relentless. The dear gold was pleasing as a bird
+on the branch, as a flower on the stem; the tune it sang was sweet, the
+colour it flaunted was bright.
+
+The trade of former days had never brought the excitement and the fortune
+that this horse's hoofs had done. The dust they had thrown up had fallen a
+happy, golden shower upon Shoreham. In every corner and crevice of life
+the glitter appeared. That fine red dress on the builder's wife, and the
+feathers that the girls flaunt at their sweethearts, the loud trousers on
+the young man's legs, the cigar in his mouth--all is Goodwood gold. It
+glitters in that girl's ears and on this girl's finger.
+
+It was said that the town of Shoreham had won two thousand pounds on the
+race; it was said that Mr. Leopold had won two hundred; it was said that
+William Latch had won fifty; it was said that Wall, the coachman, had won
+five-and-twenty; it was said that the Gaffer had won forty thousand
+pounds. For ten miles around nothing was talked of but the wealth of the
+Barfields, and, drawn like moths to a candle, the county came to call;
+even the most distant and reserved left cards, others walked up and down
+the lawn with the Gaffer, listening to his slightest word. A golden
+prosperity shone upon the yellow Italian house. Carriages passed under its
+elm-trees at every hour and swept round the evergreen oaks. Rumour said
+that large alterations were going to be made, so that larger and grander
+entertainments might be given; an Italian garden was spoken of,
+balustrades and terraces, stables were in course of construction, many
+more race-horses were bought; they arrived daily, and the slender
+creatures, their dark eyes glancing out of the sight holes in their cloth
+hoods, walked up from the station followed by an admiring and commenting
+crowd. Drink and expensive living, dancing and singing upstairs and
+downstairs, and the jollifications culminated in a servants' ball given at
+the Shoreham Gardens. All the Woodview servants, excepting Mrs. Latch,
+were there; likewise all the servants from Mr. Northcote's, and those from
+Sir George Preston's--two leading county families. A great number of
+servants had come from West Brighton, and Lancing, and Worthing
+--altogether between two and three hundred. "Evening dress is
+indispensable" was printed on the cards. The butlers, footmen, cooks,
+ladies' maids, housemaids, and housekeepers hoped by this notification to
+keep the ball select. But the restriction seemed to condemn Esther to play
+again the part of Cinderella.
+
+
+
+
+X
+
+
+A group of men turned from the circular buffet when Esther entered. Miss
+Mary had given her a white muslin dress, a square-cut bodice with sleeves
+reaching to the elbows, and a blue sash tied round the waist. The remarks
+as she passed were, "A nice, pretty girl." William was waiting, and she
+went away with him on the hop of a vigorous polka.
+
+Many of the dancers had gone to get cool in the gardens, but a few couples
+had begun to whirl, the women borne along by force, the men poising their
+legs into curious geometrical positions.
+
+Mr. Leopold was very busy dragging men away from the circular buffet--they
+must dance whether they knew how or not.
+
+"The Gaffer has told me partic'lar to see that the 'gals' all had
+partners, and just look down that 'ere room; 'alf of that lot 'aven't been
+on their legs yet. 'Ere's a partner for you," and the butler pulled a
+young gamekeeper towards a young girl who had just arrived. She entered
+slowly, her hands clasped across her bosom, her eyes fixed on the ground,
+and the strangeness of the spectacle caused Mr. Leopold to pause. It was
+whispered that she had never worn a low dress before, and Grover came to
+the rescue of her modesty with a pocket-handkerchief.
+
+But it had been found impossible to restrict the ball to those who
+possessed or could obtain an evening suit, and plenty of check trousers
+and red neckties were hopping about. Among the villagers many a touch
+suggested costume. A young girl had borrowed her grandmother's wedding
+dress, and a young man wore a canary-coloured waistcoat and a blue
+coastguardsman's coat of old time. These touches of fancy and personal
+taste divided the villagers from the household servants. The butlers
+seemed on the watch for side dishes, and the valets suggested hair brushes
+and hot water. Cooks trailed black silk dresses adorned with wide collars,
+and fastened with gold brooches containing portraits of their late
+husbands; and the fine shirt fronts set off with rich pearls, the
+lavender-gloved hands, the delicate faces, expressive of ease and leisure,
+made Ginger's two friends--young Mr. Preston and young Mr. Northcote
+--noticeable among this menial, work-a-day crowd. Ginger loved the
+upper circles, and now he romped the polka in the most approved
+London fashion, his elbows advanced like a yacht's bowsprit, and, his
+coat-tails flying, he dashed through a group of tradespeople who were
+bobbing up and down, hardly advancing at all.
+
+Esther was now being spoken of as the belle of the ball, she had danced
+with young Mr. Preston, and seeing her sitting alone Grover called her and
+asked her why she was not dancing. Esther answered sullenly that she was
+tired.
+
+"Come, the next polka, just to show there is no ill-feeling." Half a dozen
+times William repeated his demand. At last she said--
+
+"You've spoilt all my pleasure in the dancing."
+
+"I'm sorry if I've done that, Esther. I was jealous, that's all."
+
+"Jealous! What was you jealous for? What do it matter what people think,
+so long as I know I haven't done no wrong?"
+
+And in silence they walked into the garden. The night was warm, even
+oppressive, and the moon hung like a balloon above the trees, and often
+the straying revellers stopped to consider the markings now so plain upon
+its disc. There were arbours, artificial ruins, darkling pathways, and the
+breathless garden was noisy in the illusive light. William showed Esther
+the theatre and explained its purpose. She listened, though she did not
+understand, nor could she believe that she was not dreaming when they
+suddenly stood on the borders of a beautiful lake full of the shadows of
+tall trees, and crossed by a wooden bridge at the narrowest end.
+
+"How still the water is; and the stars, they are lovely!"
+
+"You should see the gardens about three o'clock on Saturday afternoons,
+when the excursion comes in from Brighton."
+
+They walked on a little further, and Esther said, "What's these places?
+Ain't they dark?"
+
+"These are arbours, where we 'as shrimps and tea. I'll take you next
+Saturday, if you'll come."
+
+A noisy band of young men, followed by three or four girls, ran across the
+bridge. Suddenly they stopped to argue on which side the boat was to be
+found. Some chose the left, some the right; those who went to the right
+sent up a yell of triumph, and paddled into the middle of the water. They
+first addressed remarks to their companions, and then they admired the
+moon and stars. A song was demanded, and at the end of the second verse
+William threw his arm round Esther.
+
+"Oh, Esther, I do love you."
+
+She looked at him, her grey eyes fixed in a long interrogation.
+
+"I wonder if that is true. What is there to love in me?"
+
+He squeezed her tightly, and continued his protestations. "I do, I do, I
+do love you, Esther."
+
+She did not answer, and they walked slowly on. A holly bush threw a black
+shadow on the gravel path and a moment after the ornamental tin roof of
+the dancing room appeared between the trees.
+
+Even in their short absence a change had come upon the ball. About the
+circular buffet numbers of men called for drink, and talked loudly of
+horse-racing. Many were away at supper, and those that remained were
+amusing themselves in a desultory fashion. A tall, lean woman, dressed
+like Sarah in white muslin, wearing amber beads round her neck, was
+dancing the lancers with the Demon, and everyone shook with laughter when
+she whirled the little fellow round or took him in her arms and carried
+him across. William wanted to dance, but Esther was hungry, and led him
+away to an adjoining building where cold beef, chicken, and beer might be
+had by the strong and adventurous. As they struggled through the crowd
+Esther spied three young gentlemen at the other end of the room.
+
+"Now tell me, if they ask me, the young gents yonder, to dance, am I to
+look them straight in the face and say no?"
+
+William considered a moment, and then he said, "I think you had better
+dance with them if they asks you; if you refuse, Sarah will say it was I
+who put you up to it."
+
+"Let's have another bottle," cried Ginger. "Come, what do you say, Mr.
+Thomas?"
+
+Mr. Thomas coughed, smiled, and said that Mr. Arthur wished to see him in
+the hands of the police. However, he promised to drink his share. Two more
+bottles were sent for, and, stimulated by the wine, the weights that would
+probably be assigned to certain horses in the autumn handicap were
+discussed. William was very proud of being admitted into such company, and
+he listened, a cigar which he did not like between his teeth, and a glass
+of champagne in his hand.... Suddenly the conversation was interrupted by
+the cornet sounding the first phrase of a favourite waltz, and the tipsy
+and the sober hastened away.
+
+Neither Esther nor William knew how to waltz, but they tumbled round the
+room, enjoying themselves immensely. In the polka and mazurka they got on
+better; and there were quadrilles and lancers in which the gentlemen
+joined, and all were gay and pleasant; even Sarah's usually sour face
+glowed with cordiality when they joined hands and raced round the men
+standing in the middle. In the chain they lost themselves as in a
+labyrinth and found their partners unexpectedly. But the dance of the
+evening was Sir Roger de Coverley, and Esther's usually sober little brain
+evaporated in the folly of running up the room, then turning and running
+backwards, getting into her place as best she could, and then starting
+again. It always appeared to be her turn, and it was so sweet to see her
+dear William, and such a strange excitement to run forward to meet young
+Mr. Preston, to curtsey to him, and then run away; and this over and over
+again.
+
+"There's the dawn."
+
+Esther looked, and in the whitening doorways she saw the little jockey
+staggering about helplessly drunk. The smile died out of her eyes; she
+returned to her true self, to Mrs. Barfield and the Brethren. She felt
+that all this dancing, drinking, and kissing in the arbours was wicked.
+But Miss Mary had sent for her, and had told her that she would give her
+one of her dresses, and she had not known how to refuse Miss Mary. Then,
+if she had not gone, William--Sounds of loud voices were heard in the
+garden, and the lean woman in the white muslin repeated some charge.
+Esther ran out to see what was happening, and there she witnessed a
+disgraceful scene. The lean woman in the muslin dress and the amber beads
+accused young Mr. Preston of something which he denied, and she heard
+William tell someone that he was mistaken, that he and his pals didn't
+want no rowing at this 'ere ball, and what was more they didn't mean to
+have none.
+
+And her heart filled with love for her big William. What a fine fellow he
+was! how handsome were his shoulders beside that round-shouldered little
+man whom he so easily pulled aside! and having crushed out the quarrel, he
+helped her on with her jacket, and, hanging on his arm, they returned home
+through the little town. Margaret followed with the railway porter; Sarah
+was with her faithful admirer, a man with a red beard, whom she had picked
+up at the ball; Grover waddled in the rear, embarrassed with the green
+silk, which she held high out of the dust of the road.
+
+When they reached the station the sky was stained with rose, and the
+barren downs--more tin-like than ever in the shadow-less light of
+dawn--stretched across the sunrise from Lancing to Brighton. The little
+birds sat ruffling their feathers, and, awaking to the responsibilities of
+the day, flew away into the corn. The night had been close and sultry, and
+even at this hour there was hardly any freshness in the air. Esther looked
+at the hills, examining the landscape intently. She was thinking of the
+first time she saw it. Some vague association of ideas--the likeness that
+the morning landscape bore to the evening landscape, or the wish to
+prolong the sweetness of these, the last moments of her happiness,
+impelled her to linger and to ask William if the woods and fields were not
+beautiful. The too familiar landscape awoke in William neither idea nor
+sensation; Esther interested him more, and while she gazed dreamily on the
+hills he admired the white curve of her neck which showed beneath the
+unbuttoned jacket. She never looked prettier than she did that morning,
+standing on the dusty road, her white dress crumpled, the ends of the blue
+sash hanging beneath the black cloth jacket.
+
+
+
+
+XI
+
+
+For days nothing was talked of but the ball--how this man had danced, the
+bad taste of this woman's dress, and the possibility of a marriage. The
+ball had brought amusement to all, to Esther it had brought happiness. Her
+happiness was now visible in her face and audible in her voice, and
+Sarah's ironical allusions to her inability to learn to read no longer
+annoyed her, no longer stirred her temper--her love seemed to induce
+forgiveness for all and love for everything.
+
+In the evenings when their work was done Esther and her lover lingered
+about the farm buildings, listening to the rooks, seeing the lights die in
+the west; and in the summer darkness about nine she tripped by his side
+when he took the letters to post. The wheat stacks were thatching, and in
+the rickyard, in the carpenter's shop, and in the whist of the woods they
+talked of love and marriage. They lay together in the warm valleys,
+listening to the tinkling of the sheep-bell, and one evening, putting his
+pipe aside, William threw his arm round her, whispering that she was his
+wife. The words were delicious in her fainting ears, and her will died in
+what seemed like irresistible destiny. She could not struggle with him,
+though she knew that her fate depended upon her resistance, and swooning
+away she awakened in pain, powerless to free herself.... Soon after
+thoughts betook themselves on their painful way, and the stars were
+shining when he followed her across the down, beseeching her to listen.
+But she fled along the grey road and up the stairs to her room. Margaret
+was in bed, and awakening a little asked her what had kept her out so
+late. She did not answer... and hearing Margaret fall asleep she
+remembered the supper-table. Sarah, who had come in late, had sat down by
+her; William sat on the opposite side; Mrs. Latch was in her place, the
+jockeys were all together; Mr. Swindles, his snuff-box on the table;
+Margaret and Grover. Everyone had drunk a great deal; and Mr. Leopold had
+gone to the beer cellar many times. She thought that she remembered
+feeling a little dizzy when William asked her to come for a stroll up the
+hill. They had passed through the hunting gate; they had wandered into the
+loneliness of the hills. Over the folded sheep the rooks came home noisily
+through a deepening sky. So far she remembered, and she could not remember
+further; and all night lay staring into the darkness, and when Margaret
+called her in the morning she was pale and deathlike.
+
+"Whatever is the matter? You do look ill."
+
+"I did not sleep all last night. My head aches as if it would drop off. I
+don't feel as if I could go to work to-day."
+
+"That's the worst of being a servant. Well or ill, it makes no matter."
+She turned from the glass, and holding her hair in her left hand, leaned
+her head so that she might pin it. "You do look bad," she remarked dryly.
+
+Never had they been so late! Half-past seven, and the shutters still up!
+So said Margaret as they hurried downstairs. But Esther thought only of
+the meeting with William. She had seen him cleaning boots in the pantry as
+they passed. He waited till Margaret left her, till he heard the baize
+door which separated the back premises from the front of the house close,
+then he ran to the kitchen, where he expected to find Esther alone. But
+meeting his mother he mumbled some excuse and retreated. There were
+visitors in the house, he had a good deal to do that morning, and Esther
+kept close to Mrs. Latch; but at breakfast it suddenly became necessary
+that she should answer him, and Sarah saw that Esther and William were no
+longer friends.
+
+"Well I never! Look at her! She sits there over her tea-cup as melancholy
+as a prayer-meeting."
+
+"What is it to you?" said William.
+
+"What's it to me? I don't like an ugly face at the breakfast-table, that's
+all."
+
+"I wouldn't be your looking-glass, then. Luckily there isn't one here."
+
+In the midst of an angry altercation, Esther walked out of the room.
+During dinner she hardly spoke at all. After dinner she went to her room,
+and did not come down until she thought he had gone out with the carriage.
+But she was too soon, William came running down the passage to meet her.
+He laid his hand supplicatingly on her arm.
+
+"Don't touch me!" she said, and her eyes filled with dangerous light.
+
+"Now, Esther! ...Come, don't lay it on too thick!"
+
+"Go away. Don't speak to me!"
+
+"Just listen one moment, that's all."
+
+"Go away. If you don't, I'll go straight to Mrs. Barfield."
+
+She passed into the kitchen and shut the door in his face. He had gone a
+trifle pale, and after lingering a few moments he hurried away to the
+stables, and Esther saw him spring on the box.
+
+As it was frequent with Esther not to speak to anyone with whom she had
+had a dispute for a week or fifteen days, her continued sulk excited
+little suspicion, and the cause of the quarrel was attributed to some
+trifle. Sarah said--
+
+"Men are such fools. He is always begging of her to forgive him. Just look
+at him--he is still after her, following her into the wood-shed."
+
+She rarely answered him a yes or no, but would push past him, and if he
+forcibly barred the way she would say, "Let me go by, will you? You are
+interfering with my work." And if he still insisted, she spoke of
+appealing to Mrs. Barfield. And if her heart sometimes softened, and an
+insidious thought whispered that it did not matter since they were going
+to be married, instinct forced her to repel him; her instinct was that she
+could only win his respect by refusing forgiveness for a long while. The
+religion in which her soul moved and lived--the sternest
+Protestantism--strengthened and enforced the original convictions and the
+prejudices of her race; and the natural shame which she had first felt
+almost disappeared in the violence of her virtue. She even ceased to fear
+discovery. What did it matter who knew, since she knew? She opened her
+heart to God. Christ looked down, but he seemed stern and unforgiving. Her
+Christ was the Christ of her forefathers; and He had not forgiven, because
+she could not forgive herself. Hers was the unpardonable sin, the sin
+which her race had elected to fight against, and she lay down weary and
+sullen at heart.
+
+The days seemed to bring no change, and wearied by her stubbornness,
+William said, "Let her sulk," and he went out with Sarah; and when Esther
+saw them go down the yard her heart said, "Let him take her out, I don't
+want him." For she knew it to be a trick to make her jealous, and that he
+should dare such a trick angered her still further against him, and when
+they met in the garden, where she had gone with some food for the cats,
+and he said, "Forgive me, Esther, I only went out with Sarah because you
+drove me wild," she closed her teeth and refused to answer. But he stood
+in her path, determined not to leave her. "I am very fond of you, Esther,
+and I will marry you as soon as I have earned enough or won enough money
+to give you a comfortable 'ome."
+
+"You are a wicked man; I will never marry you."
+
+"I am very sorry, Esther. But I am not as bad as you think for. You let
+your temper get the better of you. So soon as I have got a bit of money
+together--"
+
+"If you were a good man you would ask me to marry you now."
+
+"I will if you like, but the truth is that I have only three pounds in the
+world. I have been unlucky lately--"
+
+"You think of nothing but that wicked betting. Come, let me pass; I'm not
+going to listen to a lot of lies."
+
+"After the Leger--"
+
+"Let me pass. I will not speak to you."
+
+"But look here, Esther: marriage or no marriage, we can't go on in this
+way: they'll be suspecting something shortly."
+
+"I shall leave Woodview." She had hardly spoken the words when it seemed
+clear to her that she must leave, and the sooner the better. "Come, let me
+pass.... If Mrs. Barfield--"
+
+An angry look passed over William's face, and he said--
+
+"I want to act honest with you, and you won't let me. If ever there was a
+sulky pig! ...Sarah's quite right; you are just the sort that would make
+hell of a man's life."
+
+She was bound to make him respect her. She had vaguely felt from the
+beginning that this was her only hope, and now the sensation developed and
+defined itself into a thought and she decided that she would not yield,
+but would continue to affirm her belief that he must acknowledge his sin,
+and then come and ask her to marry him. Above all things, Esther desired
+to see William repentant. Her natural piety, filling as it did her entire
+life, unconsciously made her deem repentance an essential condition of
+their happiness. How could they be happy if he were not a God-fearing man?
+This question presented itself constantly, and she was suddenly convinced
+that she could not marry him until he had asked forgiveness of the Lord.
+Then they would be joined together, and would love each other faithfully
+unto death.
+
+But in conflict with her prejudices, her natural love of the man was as
+the sun shining above a fog-laden valley; rays of passion pierced her
+stubborn nature, dissolving it, and unconsciously her eyes sought
+William's, and unconsciously her steps strayed from the kitchen when her
+ears told her he was in the passage. But when her love went out freely to
+William, when she longed to throw herself in his arms, saying, "Yes, I
+love you; make me your wife," she noticed, or thought she noticed, that he
+avoided her eyes, and she felt that thoughts of which she knew nothing had
+obtained a footing in his mind, and she was full of foreboding.
+
+Her heart being intent on him, she was aware of much that escaped the
+ordinary eye, and she was the first to notice when the drawing-room bell
+rang, and Mr. Leopold rose, that William would say, "My legs are the
+youngest, don't you stir."
+
+No one else, not even Sarah, thought William intended more than to keep in
+Mr. Leopold's good graces, but Esther, although unable to guess the truth,
+heard the still tinkling bell ringing the knell of her hopes. She noted,
+too, the time he remained upstairs, and asked herself anxiously what it
+was that detained him so long. The weather had turned colder lately....
+Was it a fire that was wanted? In the course of the afternoon, she heard
+from Margaret that Miss Mary and Mrs. Barfield had gone to Southwick to
+make a call, and she heard from one of the boys that the Gaffer and Ginger
+had ridden over in the morning to Fendon Fair, and had not yet returned.
+It must have been Peggy who had rung the bell. Peggy? Suddenly she
+remembered something--something that had been forgotten. The first Sunday,
+the first time she went to the library for family prayers, Peggy was
+sitting on the little green sofa, and as Esther passed across the room to
+her place she saw her cast a glance of admiration on William's tall
+figure, and the memory of that glance had flamed up in her brain, and all
+that night Esther saw the girl with the pale face and the coal-black hair
+looking at her William.
+
+Next day Esther waited for the bell that was to call her lover from her.
+The afternoon wore slowly away, and she had begun to hope she was mistaken
+when the metal tongue commenced calling. She heard the baize door close
+behind him; but the bell still continued to utter little pathetic notes. A
+moment after all was still in the corridor, and like one sunk to the knees
+in quicksands she felt that the time had come for a decided effort. But
+what could she do? She could not follow him to the drawing-room. She had
+begun to notice that he seemed to avoid her, and by his conduct seemed to
+wish that their quarrel might endure. But pride and temper had fallen from
+her, and she lived conscious of him, noting every sign, and intensely, all
+that related to him, divining all his intentions, and meeting him in the
+passage when he least expected her.
+
+"I'm always getting in your way," she said, with a low, nervous laugh.
+
+"No harm in that; ...fellow servants; there must be give and take."
+
+Tremblingly they looked at each other, feeling that the time had come,
+that an explanation was inevitable, but at that moment the drawing-room
+bell rang above their heads, and William said, "I must answer that bell."
+He turned from her, and passed through the baize door before she had said
+another word.
+
+Sarah remarked that William seemed to spend a great deal of his time in
+the drawing-room, and Esther started out of her moody contemplation, and,
+speaking instinctively, she said, "I don't think much of ladies who go
+after their servants."
+
+Everyone looked up. Mrs. Latch laid her carving-knife on the meat and
+fixed her eyes on her son.
+
+"Lady?" said Sarah; "she's no lady! Her mother used to mop out the yard
+before she was 'churched.'"
+
+"I can tell you what," said William, "you had better mind what you are
+a-saying of, for if any of your talk got wind upstairs you'd lose yer
+situation, and it might be some time before yer got another!"
+
+"Lose my situation! and a good job, too. I shall always be able to suit
+mesel'; don't you fear about me. But if it comes to talking about
+situations, I can tell you that you are more likely to lose yours than I
+am to lose mine."
+
+William hesitated, and while he sought a judicious reply Mrs. Latch and
+Mr. Leopold, putting forth their joint authority, brought the discussion
+to a close. The jockey-boys exchanged grins, Sarah sulked, Mr. Swindles
+pursed up his mouth in consideration, and the elder servants felt that the
+matter would not rest in the servant's hall; that evening it would be the
+theme of conversation in the "Red Lion," and the next day it would be the
+talk of the town.
+
+About four o'clock Esther saw Mrs. Barfield, Miss Mary, and Peggy walk
+across the yard towards the garden, and as Esther had to go soon after to
+the wood-shed she saw Peggy slip out of the garden by a bottom gate and
+make her way through the evergreens. Esther hastened back to the kitchen
+and stood waiting for the bell to ring. She had not to wait long; the bell
+tinkled, but so faintly that Esther said, "She only just touched it; it is
+a signal; he was on the look-out for it; she did not want anyone else to
+hear."
+
+Esther remembered the thousands of pounds she had heard that the young
+lady possessed, and the beautiful dresses she wore. There was no hope for
+her. How could there be? Her poor little wages and her print dress! He
+would never look at her again! But oh! how cruel and wicked it was! How
+could one who had so much come to steal from one who had so little? Oh, it
+was very cruel and very wicked, and no good would come of it either to her
+or to him; of that she felt quite sure. God always punished the wicked.
+She knew he did not love Peggy. It was sin and shame; and after his
+promises--after what had happened. Never would she have believed him to be
+so false. Then her thought turned to passionate hatred of the girl who had
+so cruelly robbed her. He had gone through that baize door, and no doubt
+he was sitting by Peggy in the new drawing-room. He had gone where she
+could not follow. He had gone where the grand folk lived in idleness, in
+the sinfulness of the world and the flesh, eating and gambling, thinking
+of nothing else, and with servants to wait on them, obeying their orders
+and saving them from every trouble. She knew that these fine folk thought
+servants inferior beings. But was she not of the same flesh and blood as
+they? Peggy wore a fine dress, but she was no better; take off her dress
+and they were the same, woman to woman.
+
+She pushed through the door and walked down the passage. A few steps
+brought her to the foot of a polished oak staircase, lit by a large window
+in coloured glass, on either side of which there were statues. The
+staircase sloped slowly to an imposing landing set out with columns and
+blue vases and embroidered curtains. The girl saw these things vaguely,
+and she was conscious of a profusion of rugs, matting, and bright doors,
+and of her inability to decide which door was the drawing-room door--the
+drawing-room of which she had heard so much, and where even now, amid gold
+furniture and sweet-scented air, William listened to the wicked woman who
+had tempted him away from her. Suddenly William appeared, and seeing
+Esther he seemed uncertain whether to draw back or come forward. Then his
+face took an expression of mixed fear and anger; and coming rapidly
+towards her, he said--
+
+"What are you doing here?"... then changing his voice, "This is against
+the rules of the 'ouse."
+
+"I want to see her."
+
+"Anything else? What do you want to say to her? I won't have it, I tell
+you.... What do you mean by spying after me? That's your game, is it?"
+
+"I want to speak to her."
+
+With averted face the young lady fled up the oak staircase, her
+handkerchief to her lips. Esther made a movement as if to follow, but
+William prevented her. She turned and walked down the passage and entered
+the kitchen. Her face was one white tint, her short, strong arms hung
+tremblingly, and William saw that it would be better to temporise.
+
+"Now look here, Esther," he said, "you ought to be damned thankful to me
+for having prevented you from making a fool of yourself."
+
+Esther's eyelids quivered, and then her eyes dilated.
+
+"Now, if Miss Margaret," continued William, "had--"
+
+"Go away! go away! I am--" At that moment the steel of a large,
+sharp-pointed knife lying on the table caught her eye. She snatched it up,
+and seeing blood she rushed at him.
+
+William retreated from her, and Mrs. Latch, coming suddenly in, caught her
+arm. Esther threw the knife; it struck the wall, falling with a rattle on
+the meat screen. Escaping from Mrs. Latch, she rushed to secure it, but
+her strength gave way, and she fell back in a dead faint.
+
+"What have you been doing to the girl?" said Mrs. Latch.
+
+"Nothing, mother.... We had a few words, that was all. She said I should
+not go out with Sarah."
+
+"That is not true.... I can read the lie in your face; a girl doesn't take
+up a knife unless a man well-nigh drives her mad."
+
+"That's right; always side against your son! ...If you don't believe me,
+get what you can out of her yourself." And, turning on his heel, he walked
+out of the house.
+
+Mrs. Latch saw him pass down the yard towards the stables, and when Esther
+opened her eyes she looked at Mrs. Latch questioningly, unable to
+understand why the old woman was standing by her.
+
+"Are you better now, dear?"
+
+"Yes, but--but what--" Then remembrance struggled back. "Is he gone? Did I
+strike him? I remember that I--"
+
+"You did not hurt him."
+
+"I don't want to see him again. Far better not. I was mad. I did not know
+what I was doing."
+
+"You will tell me about it another time, dear."
+
+"Where is he? tell me that; I must know."
+
+"Gone to the stables, I think; but you must not go after him--you'll see
+him to-morrow."
+
+"I do not want to go after him; but he isn't hurt? That's what I want to
+know."
+
+"No, he isn't hurt.... You're getting stronger.... Lean on me. You'll
+begin to feel better when you are in bed. I'll bring you up your tea."
+
+"Yes, I shall be all right presently. But how'll you manage to get the
+dinner?"
+
+"Don't you worry about that; you go upstairs and lie down."
+
+A desolate hope floated over the surface of her brain that William might
+be brought back to her.
+
+In the evening the kitchen was full of people: Margaret, Sarah, and Grover
+were there, and she heard that immediately after lunch Mr. Leopold had
+been sent for, and the Gaffer had instructed him to pay William a month's
+wages, and see that he left the house that very instant. Sarah, Margaret,
+and Grover watched Esther's face and were surprised at her indifference.
+She even seemed pleased. She was pleased; nothing better could have
+happened. William was now separated from her rival, and released from her
+bad influence he would return to his real love. At the first sign she
+would go to him, she would forgive him. But a little later, when the
+dishes came down from the dining-room, it was whispered that Peggy was not
+there.
+
+Later in the evening, when the servants were going to bed, it became known
+that she had left the house, that she had taken the six o'clock to
+Brighton. Esther turned from the foot of the stair with a wild look.
+Margaret caught her.
+
+"It's no use, dear; you can do nothing to-night."
+
+"I can walk to Brighton."
+
+"No, you can't; you don't know the way, and even if you did you don't know
+where they are."
+
+Neither Sarah nor Grover made any remark, and in silence the servants went
+to their rooms. Margaret closed the door and turned to look at Esther, who
+had fallen on the chair, her eyes fixed in vacancy.
+
+"I know what it is; I was the same when Jim Story got the sack. It seems
+as if one couldn't live through it, and yet one does somehow."
+
+"I wonder if they'll marry."
+
+"Most probable. She has a lot of money."
+
+Two days after a cab stood in the yard in front of the kitchen window.
+Peggy's luggage was being piled upon it--two large, handsome basket boxes
+with the initials painted on them. Kneeling on the box-seat, the coachman
+leaned over the roof making room for another--a small box covered with red
+cowhide and tied with a rough rope. The little box in its poor simplicity
+brought William back to Esther, whelming her for a moment in so acute a
+sense of her loss that she had to leave the kitchen. She went into the
+scullery, drew the door after her, sat down, and hid her face in her
+apron. A stifled sob or two, and then she recovered her habitual gravity
+of expression, and continued her work as if nothing had happened.
+
+
+
+
+XII
+
+
+"They are just crazy about it upstairs. Ginger and the Gaffer are the
+worst. They say they had better sell the place and build another house
+somewhere else. None of the county people will call on them now--and just
+as they were beginning to get on so well! Miss Mary, too, is terrible cut
+up about it; she says it will interfere with her prospects, and that
+Ginger has nothing to do now but to marry the kitchen-maid to complete the
+ruin of the Barfields."
+
+"Miss Mary is far too kind to say anything to wound another's feelings. It
+is only a nasty old deceitful thing like yourself who could think of such
+a thing."
+
+"Eh, you got it there, my lady," said Sarah, who had had a difference with
+Grover, and was anxious to avenge it.
+
+Grover looked at Sarah in astonishment, and her look clearly said, "Is
+everyone going to side with that little kitchen-maid?"
+
+Then, to flatter Mrs. Latch, Sarah spoke of the position the Latches had
+held three generations ago; the Barfields were then nobodies; they had
+nothing even now but their money, and that had come out of a livery
+stable. "And it shows, too; just compare Ginger with young Preston or
+young Northcote. Anyone could tell the difference."
+
+Esther listened with an unmoved face and a heavy ache in her heart. She
+had now not an enemy nor yet an opponent; the cause of rivalry and
+jealousy being removed, all were sorry for her. They recognised that she
+had suffered and was suffering, and seeing none but friends about her, she
+was led to think how happy she might have been in this beautiful house if
+it had not been for William. She loved her work, for she was working for
+those she loved. She could imagine no life happier than hers might have
+been. But she had sinned, and the Lord had punished her for sin, and she
+must bear her punishment uncomplainingly, giving Him thanks that He had
+imposed no heavier one upon her.
+
+Such reflection was the substance of Esther's mind for three months after
+William's departure; and in the afternoons, about three o'clock, when her
+work paused, Esther's thoughts would congregate and settle on the great
+misfortune of her life--William's desertion.
+
+It was one afternoon at the beginning of December; Mrs. Latch had gone
+upstairs to lie down. Esther had drawn her chair towards the fire. A
+broken-down race-horse, his legs bandaged from his knees to his fetlocks,
+had passed up the yard; he was going for walking exercise on the downs,
+and when the sound of his hoofs had died away Esther was quite alone. She
+sat on her wooden chair facing the wide kitchen window. She had advanced
+one foot on the iron fender; her head leaned back, rested on her hand. She
+did not think--her mind was lost in vague sensation of William, and it was
+in this death of active memory that something awoke within her, something
+that seemed to her like a flutter of wings; her heart seemed to drop from
+its socket, and she nearly fainted away, but recovering herself she stood
+by the kitchen table, her arms drawn back and pressed to her sides, a
+death-like pallor over her face, and drops of sweat on her forehead. The
+truth was borne in upon her; she realised in a moment part of the awful
+drama that awaited her, and from which nothing could free her, and which
+she would have to live through hour by hour. So dreadful did it seem, that
+she thought her brain must give way. She would have to leave Woodview. Oh,
+the shame of confession! Mrs. Barfield, who had been so good to her, and
+who thought so highly of her. Her father would not have her at home; she
+would be homeless in London. No hope of obtaining a situation.... they
+would send her away without a character, homeless in London, and every
+month her position growing more desperate....
+
+A sickly faintness crept up through her. The flesh had come to the relief
+of the spirit; and she sank upon her chair, almost unconscious, sick, it
+seemed, to death, and she rose from the chair wiping her forehead slowly
+with her apron.... She might be mistaken. And she hid her face in her
+hands, and then, falling on her knees, her arms thrown forward upon the
+table, she prayed for strength to walk without flinching under any cross
+that He had thought fit to lay upon her.
+
+There was still the hope that she might be mistaken; and this hope lasted
+for one week, for two, but at the end of the third week it perished, and
+she abandoned herself in prayer. She prayed for strength to endure with
+courage what she now knew she must endure, and she prayed for light to
+guide her in her present decision. Mrs. Barfield, however much she might
+pity her, could not keep her once she knew the truth, whereas none might
+know the truth if she did not tell it. She might remain at Woodview
+earning another quarter's wages; the first she had spent on boots and
+clothes, the second she had just been paid. If she stayed on for another
+quarter she would have eight pounds, and with that money, and much less
+time to keep herself, she might be able to pull through. But would she be
+able to go undetected for nearly three whole months, until her next wages
+came due? She must risk it.
+
+Three months of constant fear and agonising suspense wore away, and no
+one, not even Margaret, suspected Esther's condition. Encouraged by her
+success, and seeing still very little sign of change in her person, and as
+every penny she could earn was of vital consequence in the coming time,
+Esther determined to risk another month; then she would give notice and
+leave. Another month passed, and Esther was preparing for departure when a
+whisper went round, and before she could take steps to leave she was told
+that Mrs. Barfield wished to see her in the library. Esther turned a
+little pale, and the expression of her face altered; it seemed to her
+impossible to go before Mrs. Barfield and admit her shame. Margaret, who
+was standing near and saw what was passing in her mind, said--
+
+"Pull yourself together, Esther. You know the Saint--she's not a bad sort.
+Like all the real good ones, she is kind enough to the faults of others."
+
+"What's this? What's the matter with Esther?" said Mrs. Latch, who had not
+yet heard of Esther's misfortune.
+
+"I'll tell you presently, Mrs. Latch. Go, dear, get it over."
+
+Esther hurried down the passage and passed through the baize door without
+further thought. She had then but to turn to the left and a few steps
+would bring her to the library door. The room was already present in her
+mind. She could see it. The dim light, the little green sofa, the round
+table covered with books, the piano at the back, the parrot in the corner,
+and the canaries in the window. She knocked at the door. The well-known
+voice said, "Come in." She turned the handle, and found herself alone with
+her mistress. Mrs. Barfield laid down the book she was reading, and looked
+up. She did not look as angry as Esther had imagined, but her voice was
+harder than usual.
+
+"Is this true, Esther?"
+
+Esther hung down her head. She could not speak at first; then she said,
+"Yes."
+
+"I thought you were a good girl, Esther."
+
+"So did I, ma'am."
+
+Mrs. Barfield looked at the girl quickly, hesitated a moment, and then
+said--
+
+"And all this time--how long is it?"
+
+"Nearly seven months, ma'am."
+
+"And all this time you were deceiving us."
+
+"I was three months gone before I knew it myself, ma'am."
+
+"Three months! Then for three months you have knelt every Sunday in prayer
+in this room, for twelve Sundays you sat by me learning to read, and you
+never said a word?"
+
+A certain harshness in Mrs. Barfield's voice awakened a rebellious spirit
+in Esther, and a lowering expression gathered above her eyes. She said--
+
+"Had I told you, you would have sent me away then and there. I had only a
+quarter's wages, and should have starved or gone and drowned myself."
+
+"I'm sorry to hear you speak like that, Esther."
+
+"It is trouble that makes me, ma'am, and I have had a great deal."
+
+"Why did you not confide in me? I have not shown myself cruel to you, have
+I?"
+
+"No, indeed, ma'am. You are the best mistress a servant ever had, but--"
+
+"But what?"
+
+"Why, ma'am, it is this way.... I hated being deceitful--indeed I did. But
+I can no longer think of myself. There is another to think for now."
+
+There was in Mrs. Barfield's look something akin to admiration, and she
+felt she had not been wholly wrong in her estimate of the girl's
+character; she said, and in a different intonation--
+
+"Perhaps you were right, Esther. I couldn't have kept you on, on account
+of the bad example to the younger servants. I might have helped you with
+money. But six months alone in London and in your condition! ...I am glad
+you did not tell me, Esther; and as you say there is another to think of
+now, I hope you will never neglect your child, if God give it to you
+alive."
+
+"I hope not, ma'am; I shall try and do my best."
+
+"My poor girl! my poor girl! you do not know what trial is in store for
+you. A girl like you, and only twenty! ...Oh, it is a shame! May God give
+you courage to bear up in your adversity!"
+
+"I know there is many a hard time before me, but I have prayed for
+strength, and God will give me strength, and I must not complain. My case
+is not so bad as many another. I have nearly eight pounds. I shall get on,
+ma'am, that is to say if you will stand by me and not refuse me a
+character."
+
+"Can I give you a character? You were tempted, you were led into
+temptation. I ought to have watched over you better--mine is the
+responsibility. Tell me, it was not your fault."
+
+"It is always a woman's fault, ma'am. But he should not have deserted me
+as he did, that's the only thing I reproach him with, the rest was my
+fault--I shouldn't have touched the second glass of ale. Besides, I was in
+love with him, and you know what that is. I thought no harm, and I let him
+kiss me. He used to take me out for walks on the hill and round the farm.
+He told me he loved me, and would make me his wife--that's how it was.
+Afterwards he asked me to wait till after the Leger, and that riled me,
+and I knew then how wicked I had been. I would not go out with him or
+speak to him any more; and while our quarrel was going on Miss Peggy went
+after him, and that's how I got left."
+
+At the mention of Peggy's name a cloud passed over Mrs. Barfield's face.
+"You have been shamefully treated, my poor child. I knew nothing of all
+this. So he said he would marry you if he won his bet on the Leger? Oh,
+that betting! I know that nothing else is thought of here; upstairs and
+downstairs, the whole place is poisoned with it, and it is the fault of--"
+Mrs. Barfield walked hurriedly across the room, but when she turned the
+sight of Esther provoked her into speech. "I have seen it all my life,
+nothing else, and I have seen nothing come of it but sin and sorrow; you
+are not the first victim. Ah, what ruin, what misery, what death!"
+
+Mrs. Barfield covered her face with her hands, as if to shut out the
+memories that crowded upon her.
+
+"I think, ma'am, if you will excuse my saying so, that a great deal of
+harm do come from this betting on race-horses. The day when you was all
+away at Goodwood when the horse won, I went down to see what the sea was
+like here. I was brought up by the seaside at Barnstaple. On the beach I
+met Mrs. Leopold, that is to say Mrs. Randal, John's wife; she seemed to
+be in great trouble, she looked that melancholy, and for company's sake
+she asked me to come home to tea with her. She was in that state of mind,
+ma'am, that she forgot the teaspoons were in pawn, and when she could not
+give me one she broke down completely, and told me what her troubles had
+been."
+
+"What did she tell you, Esther?"
+
+"I hardly remember, ma'am, but it was all the same thing--ruin if the
+horse didn't win, and more betting if he did. But she said they never had
+been in such a fix as the day Silver Braid won. If he had been beaten they
+would have been thrown out on the street, and from what I have heard the
+best half of the town too."
+
+"So that little man has suffered. I thought he was wiser than the rest....
+This house has been the ruin of the neighbourhood; we have dispensed vice
+instead of righteousness." Walking towards the window, Mrs. Barfield
+continued to talk to herself. "I have struggled against the evil all my
+life, and without result. How much more misery shall I see come of it?"
+Turning then to Esther she said, "Yes, the betting is an evil--one from
+which many have suffered--but the question is now about yourself, Esther.
+How much money have you?"
+
+"I have about eight pounds, ma'am."
+
+"And how much do you reckon will see you through it?"
+
+"I don't know, ma'am, I have no experience. I think father will let me
+stay at home if I can pay my way. I could manage easily on seven shillings
+a week. When my time comes I shall go to the hospital."
+
+While Esther spoke Mrs. Barfield calculated roughly that about ten pounds
+would meet most of her wants. Her train fare, two month's board at seven
+shillings a week, the room she would have to take near the hospital before
+her confinement, and to which she would return with her baby--all these
+would run to about four or five pounds. There would be baby's clothes to
+buy.... If she gave four pounds Esther would have then twelve pounds, and
+with that she would be able to manage. Mrs. Barfield went over to an
+old-fashioned escritoire, and, pulling out some small drawers, took from
+one some paper packages which she unfolded. "Now, my girl, look here. I'm
+going to give you four pounds; then you will have twelve, and that ought
+to see you through your trouble. You have been a good servant, Esther; I
+like you very much, and am truly sorry to part with you. You will write
+and tell me how you are getting on, and if one of these days you want a
+place, and I have one to give you, I shall be glad to take you back."
+
+Harshness deadened and hardened her feelings, yet she was easily moved by
+kindness, and she longed to throw herself at her mistress's feet; but her
+nature did not admit of such effusion, and she said, in her blunt English
+way--
+
+"You are far too good, ma'am; I do not deserve such treatment--I know I
+don't."
+
+"Say no more, Esther. I hope that the Lord may give you strength to bear
+your cross.... Now go and pack up your box. But, Esther, do you feel your
+sin, can you truly say honestly before God that you repent?"
+
+"Yes, ma'am, I think I can say all that."
+
+"Then, Esther, come and kneel down and pray to God to give you strength in
+the future to stand against temptation."
+
+Mrs. Barfield took Esther's hand and they knelt down by the round table,
+leaning their hands on its edge. And, in a high, clear voice, Mrs.
+Barfield prayed aloud, Esther repeating the words after her--
+
+"Dear Lord, Thou knowest all things, knowest how Thy servant has strayed
+and has fallen into sin. But Thou hast said there is more joy in heaven
+over one sinner that repenteth than over ninety and nine just men.
+Therefore, Lord, kneeling here before Thee, we pray that this poor girl,
+who repents of the evil she has done, may be strengthened in Thy mercy to
+stand firm against temptation. Forgive her sin, even as Thou forgavest the
+woman of Samaria. Give her strength to walk uprightly before Thee, and
+give her strength to bear the pain and the suffering that lie before her."
+
+The women rose from their knees and stood looking at each other. Esther's
+eyes were full of tears. Without speaking she turned to go.
+
+"One word more, Esther. You asked me just now for a character; I
+hesitated, but it seems to me now that it would be wrong to refuse. If I
+did you might never get a place, and then it would be impossible to say
+what might happen. I am not certain that I am doing right, but I know what
+it means to refuse to give a servant a character, and I cannot take upon
+myself the responsibility."
+
+Mrs. Barfield wrote out a character for Esther, in which she described her
+as an honest, hard-working girl. She paused at the word "reliable," and
+wrote instead, "I believe her to be at heart a thoroughly religious girl."
+
+She went upstairs to pack her box, and when she came down she found all
+the women in the kitchen; evidently they were waiting for her. Coming
+forward, Sarah said--
+
+"I hope we shall part friends, Esther; any quarrels we may have
+had--There's no ill-feeling now, is there?"
+
+"I bear no one any ill-feeling. We have been friends these last months;
+indeed, everyone has been very kind to me." And Esther kissed Sarah on
+both cheeks.
+
+"I'm sure we're all sorry to lose you," said Margaret, pressing forward,
+"and we hope you'll write and let us know how you are getting on."
+
+Margaret, who was a tender-hearted girl, began to cry, and, kissing
+Esther, she declared that she had never got on with a girl who slept in
+her room so well before. Esther shook hands with Grover, and then her eyes
+met Mrs. Latch's. The old woman took her in her arms.
+
+"It breaks my heart to think that one belonging to me should have done you
+such a wrong--But if you want for anything let me know, and you shall have
+it. You will want money; I have some here for you."
+
+"Thank you, thank you, but I have all I want. Mrs. Barfield has been very
+good to me."
+
+The babbling of so many voices drew Mr. Leopold from the pantry; he came
+with a glass of beer in his hand, and this suggested a toast to Sarah.
+"Let's drink baby's health," she said. "Mr. Leopold won't refuse us the
+beer."
+
+The idea provoked some good-natured laughter, and Esther hid her face in
+her hands and tried to get away. But Margaret would not allow her. "What
+nonsense!" she said. "We don't think any the worse of you; why that's an
+accident that might happen to any of us."
+
+"I hope not," said Esther.
+
+The jug of beer was finished; she was kissed and hugged again, some tears
+were shed, and Esther walked down the yard through the stables.
+
+The avenue was full of wind and rain; the branches creaked dolefully
+overhead; the lane was drenched, and the bare fields were fringed with
+white mist, and the houses seemed very desolate by the bleak sea; and the
+girl's soul was desolate as the landscape. She had come to Woodview to
+escape the suffering of a home which had become unendurable, and she was
+going back in circumstances a hundred times worse than those in which she
+had left it, and she was going back with the memory of the happiness she
+had lost. All the grief and trouble that girls of her class have so
+frequently to bear gathered in Esther's heart when she looked out of the
+railway carriage window and saw for the last time the stiff plantations on
+the downs and the angles of the Italian house between the trees. She drew
+her handkerchief from her jacket, and hid her distress as well as she
+could from the other occupants of the carriage.
+
+
+
+
+XIII
+
+
+When she arrived at Victoria it was raining. She picked up her skirt, and
+as she stepped across a puddle a wild and watery wind swept up the wet
+streets, catching her full in the face.
+
+She had left her box in the cloak-room, for she did not know if her father
+would have her at home. Her mother would tell her what she thought, but no
+one could say for certain what he would do. If she brought the box he
+might fling it after her into the street; better come without it, even if
+she had to go back through the wet to fetch it. At that moment another
+gust drove the rain violently over her, forcing it through her boots. The
+sky was a tint of ashen grey, and all the low brick buildings were veiled
+in vapour; the rough roadway was full of pools, and nothing was heard but
+the melancholy bell of the tram-car. She hesitated, not wishing to spend a
+penny unnecessarily, but remembering that a penny wise is often a pound
+foolish she called to the driver and got in. The car passed by the little
+brick street where the Saunders lived, and when Esther pushed the door
+open she could see into the kitchen and overhear the voices of the
+children. Mrs. Saunders was sweeping down the stairs, but at the sound of
+footsteps she ceased to bang the broom, and, stooping till her head looked
+over the banisters, she cried--
+
+"Who is it?"
+
+"Me, mother."
+
+"What! You, Esther?"
+
+"Yes, mother."
+
+Mrs. Saunders hastened down, and, leaning the broom against the wall, she
+took her daughter in her arms and kissed her. "Well, this is nice to see
+you again, after this long while. But you are looking a bit poorly,
+Esther." Then her face changed expression. "What has happened? Have you
+lost your situation?"
+
+"Yes, mother."
+
+"Oh, I am that sorry, for we thought you was so 'appy there and liked your
+mistress above all those you 'ad ever met with. Did you lose your temper
+and answer her back? They is often trying, I know that, and your own
+temper--you was never very sure of it."
+
+"I've no fault to find with my mistress; she is the kindest in the
+world--none better,--and my temper--it wasn't that, mother--"
+
+"My own darling, tell me--"
+
+Esther paused. The children had ceased talking in the kitchen, and the
+front door was open. "Come into the parlour. We can talk quietly there....
+When do you expect father home?"
+
+"Not for the best part of a couple of hours yet."
+
+Mrs. Saunders waited until Esther had closed the front door. Then they
+went into the parlour and sat down side by side on the little horsehair
+sofa placed against the wall facing the window. The anxiety in their
+hearts betrayed itself on their faces.
+
+"I had to leave, mother. I'm seven months gone."
+
+"Oh, Esther, Esther, I cannot believe it!"
+
+"Yes, mother, it is quite true."
+
+Esther hurried through her story, and when her mother questioned her
+regarding details she said--
+
+"Oh, mother, what does it matter? I don't care to talk about it more than
+I can help."
+
+Tears had begun to roll down Mrs. Saunders' cheeks, and when she wiped
+them away with the corner of her apron, Esther heard a sob.
+
+"Don't cry, mother," said Esther. "I have been very wicked, I know, but
+God will be good to me. I always pray to him, just as you taught me to do,
+and I daresay I shall get through my trouble somehow."
+
+"Your father will never let you stop 'ere; 'e'll say, just as afore, that
+there be too many mouths to feed as it is."
+
+"I don't want him to keep me for nothing--I know well enough if I did that
+'e'd put me outside quick enough. But I can pay my way. I earned good
+money while I was with the Barfields, and though she did tell me I must
+go, Mrs. Barfield--the Saint they call her, and she is a saint if ever
+there was one--gave me four pounds to see me, as she said, through my
+trouble. I've better than eleven pound. Don't cry, mother dear; crying
+won't do no good, and I want you to help me. So long as the money holds
+out I can get a lodging anywhere, but I'd like to be near you; and father
+might be glad to let me have the parlour and my food for ten or eleven
+shillings a week--I could afford as much as that, and he never was the man
+to turn good money from his door. Do yer think he will?"
+
+"I dunno, dearie; 'tis hard to say what 'e'll do; he's a 'ard man to live
+with. I've 'ad a terrible time of it lately, and them babies allus coming.
+Ah, we poor women have more than our right to bear with!"
+
+"Poor mother!" said Esther, and, taking her mother's hand in hers, she
+passed her arm round her, drew her closer, and kissed her. "I know what he
+was; is he any worse now?"
+
+"Well, I think he drinks more, and is even rougher. It was only the other
+day, just as I was attending to his dinner--it was a nice piece of steak,
+and it looked so nice that I cut off a weany piece to taste. He sees me do
+it, and he cries out, 'Now then, guts, what are you interfering with my
+dinner for?' I says, 'I only cut off a tiny piece to taste.' 'Well, then,
+taste that,' he says, and strikes me clean between the eyes. Ah, yes,
+lucky for you to be in service; you've half forgot by now what we've to
+put up with 'ere."
+
+"You was always that soft with him, mother; he never touched me since I
+dashed the hot water in his face."
+
+"Sometimes I thinks I can bear it no longer, Esther, and long to go and
+drown meself. Jenny and Julia--you remember little Julia; she 'as grown up
+such a big girl, and is getting on so well--they are both at work now in
+the kitchen. Johnnie gives us a deal of trouble; he cannot tell a word of
+truth; father took off his strap the other day and beat him dreadful, but
+it ain't no use. If it wasn't for Jenny and Julia I don't think we should
+ever make both ends meet; but they works all day at the dogs, and at the
+warehouse their dogs is said to be neater and more lifelike than any
+other. Their poor fingers is worn away cramming the paper into the moulds;
+but they never complains, no more shouldn't I if he was a bit gentler and
+didn't take more than half of what he earns to the public-'ouse. I was
+glad you was away, Esther, for you allus was of an 'asty temper and
+couldn't 'ave borne it. I don't want to make my troubles seem worse than
+they be, but sometimes I think I will break up, 'special when I get to
+thinking what will become of us and all them children, money growing less
+and expenses increasing. I haven't told yer, but I daresay you have
+noticed that another one is coming. It is the children that breaks us poor
+women down altogether. Ah, well, yours be the hardest trouble, but you
+must put a brave face on it; we'll do the best we can; none of us can say
+no more."
+
+Mrs. Saunders wiped her eyes with the corner of her apron; Esther looked
+at her with her usual quiet, stubborn stare, and without further words
+mother and daughter went into the kitchen where the girls were at work. It
+was a long, low room, with one window looking on a small back-yard, at the
+back of which was the coal-hole, the dust-bin, and a small outhouse. There
+was a long table and a bench ran along the wall. The fireplace was on the
+left-hand side; the dresser stood against the opposite wall; and amid the
+poor crockery, piled about in every available space, were the toy dogs,
+some no larger than your hand, others almost as large as a small poodle.
+Jenny and Julia had been working busily for some days, and were now
+finishing the last few that remained of the order they had received from
+the shop they worked for. Three small children sat on the floor tearing
+the brown paper, which they handed as it was wanted to Jenny and Julia.
+The big girls leaned over the table in front of iron moulds, filling them
+with brown paper, pasting it down, tucking it in with strong and dexterous
+fingers.
+
+"Why, it is Esther!" said Jenny, the elder girl. "And, lorks, ain't she
+grand!--quite the lady. Why, we hardly knowed ye." And having kissed their
+sister circumspectly, careful not to touch the clothes they admired with
+their pasty fingers, they stood lost in contemplation, thrilled with
+consciousness of the advantage of service.
+
+Esther took Harry, a fine little boy of four, up in her arms, and asked
+him if he remembered her.
+
+"Naw, I don't think I do. Will oo put me down?"
+
+"But you do, Lizzie?" she said, addressing a girl of seven, whose bright
+red hair shone like a lamp in the gathering twilight.
+
+"Yes, you're my big sister; you've been away this year or more in
+service."
+
+"And you, Maggie, do you remember me too?"
+
+Maggie at first seemed doubtful, but after a moment's reflection she
+nodded her head vigorously.
+
+"Come, Esther, see how Julia is getting on," said Mrs. Saunders; "she
+makes her dogs nearly as fast as Jenny. She is still a bit careless in
+drawing the paper into the moulds. Well, just as I was speaking of it:
+'ere's a dog with one shoulder just 'arf the size of the other."
+
+"Oh, mother, I'm sure nobody'd never know the difference."
+
+"Wouldn't know the difference! Just look at the hanimal! Is it natural?
+Sich carelessness I never seed."
+
+"Esther, just look at Julia's dog," cried Jenny, "'e 'asn't got no more
+than 'arf a shoulder. It's lucky mother saw it, for if the manager'd seen
+it he'd have found something wrong with I don't know 'ow many more, and
+docked us maybe a shilling or more on the week's work."
+
+Julia began to cry.
+
+"Jenny is always down on me. She is jealous just because mother said I
+worked as fast as she did. If her work was overhauled--"
+
+"There are all my dogs there on the right-hand side of the dresser--I
+always 'as the right for my dogs--and if you find one there with an uneven
+shoulder I'll--"
+
+"Jennie is so fat that she likes everything like 'erself; that's why she
+stuffs so much paper into her dogs."
+
+It was little Ethel speaking from her corner, and her explanation of the
+excellence of Jenny's dogs, given with stolid childish gravity in the
+interval of tearing a large sheet of brown paper, made them laugh. But in
+the midst of the laughter thought of her great trouble came upon Esther.
+Mrs. Saunders noticed this, and a look of pity came into her eyes, and to
+make an end of the unseemly gaiety she took Julia's dog and told her that
+it must be put into the mould again. She cut the skin away, and helped to
+force the stiff paper over the edge of the mould.
+
+"Now," she said, "it is a dog; both shoulders is equal, and if it was a
+real dog he could walk."
+
+"Oh, bother!" cried Jenny, "I shan't be able to finish my last dozen this
+evening. I 'ave no more buttons for the eyes, and the black pins that
+Julia is a-using of for her little one won't do for this size."
+
+"Won't they give yer any at the shop? I was counting on the money they
+would bring to finish the week with."
+
+"No, we can't get no buttons in the shop: that's 'ome work, they says; and
+even if they 'ad them they wouldn't let us put them in there. That's 'ome
+work they says to everything; they is a that disagreeable lot."
+
+"But 'aven't you got sixpence, mother? and I'll run and get them."
+
+"No, I've run short."
+
+"But," said Esther, "I'll give you sixpence to get your buttons with."
+
+"Yes, that's it; give us sixpence, and yer shall have it back to-morrow if
+you are 'ere. How long are yer up for? If not, we'll send it."
+
+"I'm not going back just yet."
+
+"What, 'ave yer lost yer situation?"
+
+"No, no," said Mrs. Saunders, "Esther ain't well--she 'as come up for 'er
+'ealth; take the sixpence and run along."
+
+"May I go too?" said Julia. "I've been at work since eight, and I've only
+a few more dogs to do."
+
+"Yes, you may go with your sister. Run along; don't bother me any more,
+I've got to get your father's supper."
+
+When Jenny and Julia had left, Esther and Mrs. Saunders could talk freely;
+the other children were too young to understand.
+
+"There is times when 'e is well enough," said Mrs. Saunders, "and others
+when 'e is that awful. It is 'ard to know 'ow to get him, but 'e is to be
+got if we only knew 'ow. Sometimes 'tis most surprising how easy 'e do
+take things, and at others--well, as about that piece of steak that I was
+a-telling you of. Should you catch him in that humour 'e's as like as not
+to take ye by the shoulder and put you out; but if he be in a good humour
+'e's as like as not to say, 'Well, my gal, make yerself at 'ome.'"
+
+"He can but turn me out, I'll leave yer to speak to 'im, mother."
+
+"I'll do my best, but I don't answer for nothing. A nice bit of supper do
+make a difference in 'im, and as ill luck will 'ave it, I've nothing but a
+rasher, whereas if I only 'ad a bit of steak 'e'd brighten up the moment
+he clapt eyes on it and become that cheerful."
+
+"But, mother, if you think it will make a difference I can easily slip
+round to the butcher's and----"
+
+"Yes, get half a pound, and when it's nicely cooked and inside him it'll
+make all the difference. That will please him. But I don't like to see you
+spending your money--money that you'll want badly."
+
+"It can't be helped, mother. I shan't be above a minute or two away, and
+I'll bring back a pint of porter with the steak."
+
+Coming back she met Jenny and Julia, and when she told them her purchases
+they remarked significantly that they were now quite sure of a pleasant
+evening.
+
+"When he's done eating 'e'll go out to smoke his pipe with some of his
+chaps," said Jenny, "and we shall have the 'ouse to ourselves, and yer can
+tell us all about your situation. They keeps a butler and a footman, don't
+they? They must be grand folk. And what was the footman like? Was he very
+handsome? I've 'eard that they all is."
+
+"And you'll show us yer dresses, won't you?" said Julia. "How many 'ave
+you got, and 'ow did yer manage to save up enough money to buy such
+beauties, if they're all like that?"
+
+"This dress was given to me by Miss Mary."
+
+"Was it? She must be a real good 'un. I should like to go to service; I'm
+tired of making dogs; we have to work that 'ard, and it nearly all goes to
+the public; father drinks worse than ever."
+
+Mrs. Saunders approved of Esther's purchase; it was a beautiful bit of
+steak. The fire was raked up, and a few minutes after the meat was
+roasting on the gridiron. The clock continued its coarse ticking amid the
+rough plates on the dresser. Jenny and Julia hastened with their work,
+pressing the paper with nervous fingers into the moulds, calling sharply
+to the little group for what sized paper they required. Esther and Mrs.
+Saunders waited, full of apprehension, for the sound of a heavy tread in
+the passage. At last it came. Mrs. Saunders turned the meat, hoping that
+its savoury odour would greet his nostrils from afar, and that he would
+come to them mollified and amiable.
+
+"Hullo, Jim; yer are 'ome a bit earlier to-day. I'm not quite ready with
+yer supper."
+
+"I dunno that I am. Hullo, Esther! Up for the day? Smells damned nice,
+what you're cooking for me, missus. What is it?"
+
+"Bit of steak, Jim. It seems a beautiful piece. Hope it will eat tender."
+
+"That it will. I was afeard you would have nothing more than a rasher, and
+I'm that 'ungry."
+
+Jim Saunders was a stout, dark man about forty. He had not shaved for some
+days, his face was black with beard; his moustache was cut into bristle;
+around his short, bull neck he wore a ragged comforter, and his blue
+jacket was shabby and dusty, and the trousers were worn at the heels. He
+threw his basket into a corner, and then himself on the rough bench nailed
+against the wall, and there, without speaking another word, he lay
+sniffing the odour of the meat like an animal going to be fed. Suddenly a
+whiff from the beer jug came into his nostrils, and reaching out his rough
+hand he looked into the jug to assure himself he was not mistaken.
+
+"What's this?" he exclaimed; "a pint of porter! Yer are doing me pretty
+well this evening, I reckon. What's up?"
+
+"Nothing, Jim; nothing, dear, but just as Esther has come up we thought
+we'd try to make yer comfortable. It was Esther who fetched it; she 'as
+been doing pretty well, and can afford it."
+
+Jim looked at Esther in a sort of vague and brutal astonishment, and
+feeling he must say something, and not knowing well what, he said----
+
+"Well, 'ere's to your good health!" and he took a long pull at the jug.
+"Where did you get this?"
+
+"In Durham street, at the 'Angel.'"
+
+"I thought as much; they don't sell stuff like this at the 'Rose and
+Crown.' Well, much obliged to yer. I shall enjoy my bit of steak now; and
+I see a tater in the cinders. How are you getting on, old woman--is it
+nearly done? Yer know I don't like all the goodness burnt out of it."
+
+"It isn't quite done yet, Jim; a few minutes more----"
+
+Jim sniffed in eager anticipation, and then addressed himself to Esther.
+
+"Well, they seem to do yer pretty well down there. My word, what a toff
+yer are! Quite a lady.... There's nothing like service for a girl; I've
+always said so. Eh, Jenny, wouldn't yer like to go into service, like yer
+sister? Looks better, don't it, than making toy dogs at three-and-sixpence
+the gross?"
+
+"I should just think it was. I wish I could. As soon as Maggie can take my
+place, I mean to try."
+
+"It was the young lady of the 'ouse that gave 'er that nice dress," said
+Julia. "My eye! she must have been a favourite."
+
+At that moment Mrs. Saunders picked the steak from the gridiron, and
+putting it on a nice hot plate she carried it in her apron to Jim, saying,
+"Mind yer 'ands, it is burning 'ot."
+
+Jim fed in hungry silence, the children watching, regretting that none of
+them ever had suppers like that. He didn't speak until he had put away the
+better part of the steak; then, after taking a long pull at the jug of
+beer, he said--
+
+"I 'aven't enjoyed a bit of food like that this many a day; I was that
+beat when I came in, and it does do one good to put a piece of honest meat
+into one's stomach after a 'ard day's work!"
+
+Then, prompted by a sudden thought, he complimented Esther on her looks,
+and then, with increasing interest, inquired what kind of people she was
+staying with. But Esther was in no humour for conversation, and answered
+his questions briefly without entering into details. Her reserve only
+increased his curiosity, which fired up at the first mention of the
+race-horses.
+
+"I scarcely know much about them. I only used to see them passing through
+the yard as they went to exercise on the downs. There was always a lot of
+talk about them in the servants' hall, but I didn't notice it. They were a
+great trouble to Mrs. Barfield--I told you, mother, that she was one of
+ourselves, didn't I?"
+
+A look of contempt passed over Jim's face, and he said--
+
+"We've quite enough talk 'ere about the Brethren; give them a rest. What
+about the 'orses? Did they win any races? Yer can't 'ave missed 'earing
+that."
+
+"Yes, Silver Braid won the Stewards' Cup."
+
+"Silver Braid was one of your horses?"
+
+"Yes, Mr. Barfield won thousands and thousands, everyone in Shoreham won
+something, and a ball for the servants was given in the Gardens."
+
+"And you never thought of writing to me about it! I could have 'ad thirty
+to one off Bill Short. One pound ten to a bob! And yer never thought it
+worth while to send me the tip. I'm blowed! Girls aren't worth a damn....
+Thirty to one off Bill Short--he'd have laid it. I remember seeing the
+price quoted in all the papers. Thirty to one taken and hoffered. If you
+had told me all yer knowed I might 'ave gone 'alf a quid--fifteen pun to
+'alf a quid! as much as I'd earn in three months slaving eight and ten
+hours a day, paint-pot on 'and about them blooming engines. Well, there's
+no use crying over what's done--sich a chance won't come again, but
+something else may. What are they going to do with the 'orse this
+autumn--did yer 'ear that?"
+
+"I think I 'eard that he was entered for the Cambridgeshire, but if I
+remember rightly, Mr. Leopold--that's the butler, not his real name, but
+what we call him--"
+
+"Ah, yes; I know; after the Baron. Now what do 'e say? I reckon 'e knows.
+I should like to 'ave 'alf-an-hour's talk with your Mr. Leopold. What do
+'e say? For what 'e says, unless I'm pretty well mistaken, is worth
+listening to. A man wouldn't be a-wasting 'is time in listening to 'im.
+What do 'e say?"
+
+"Mr. Leopold never says much. He's the only one the Gaffer ever confides
+in. 'Tis said they are as thick as thieves, so they say. Mr. Leopold was
+his confidential servant when the Gaffer--that's the squire--was a
+bachelor."
+
+Jim chuckled. "Yes, I think I know what kind of man your Mr. Leopold is
+like. But what did 'e say about the Cambridgeshire?"
+
+"He only laughed a little once, and said he didn't think the 'orse would
+do much good in the autumn races--no, not races, that isn't the word."
+
+"Handicaps?"
+
+"Yes, that's it. But there's no relying on what Mr. Leopold says--he never
+says what he really means. But I 'eard William, that's the footman--"
+
+"What are you stopping for? What did yer 'ear 'im say?"
+
+"That he intends to have something on next spring."
+
+"Did he say any race? Did he say the City and Sub.?"
+
+"Yes, that was the race he mentioned."
+
+"I thought that would be about the length and the breadth of it," Jim
+said, as he took up his knife and fork. There was only a small portion of
+the beef-steak left, and this he ate gluttonously, and, finishing the last
+remaining beer, he leaned back in the happiness of repletion. He crammed
+tobacco into a dirty clay, with a dirtier finger-nail, and said--
+
+"I'd be uncommon glad to 'ear how he is getting on. When are you going
+back? Up for the day only?"
+
+Esther did not answer, and Jim looked inquiringly as he reached across the
+table for the matches. The decisive moment had arrived, and Mrs. Saunders
+said--
+
+"Esther ain't a-going back; leastways--"
+
+"Not going back! You don't mean that she ain't contented in her
+situation--that she 'as--"
+
+"Esther ain't going back no more," Mrs. Saunders answered, incautiously.
+"Look ee 'ere, Jim--"
+
+"Out with it, old woman--no 'umbug! What is it all about? Ain't going back
+to 'er sitooation, and where she 'as been treated like that--just look at
+the duds she 'as got on."
+
+The evening was darkening rapidly, and the firelight flickered over the
+back of the toy dogs piled up on the dresser. Jim had lit his pipe, and
+the acrid and warm odour of quickly-burning tobacco overpowered the smell
+of grease and the burnt skin of the baked potato, a fragment of which
+remained on the plate; only the sickly flavour of drying paste was
+distinguishable in the reek of the short black clay which the man held
+firmly between his teeth. Esther sat by the fire, her hands crossed over
+her knees, no signs of emotion on her sullen, plump face. Mrs. Saunders
+stood on the other side of Esther, between her and the younger children,
+now quarrelling among themselves, and her face was full of fear as she
+watched her husband anxiously.
+
+"Now, then, old woman, blurt it out!" he said. "What is it? Can it be the
+girl 'as lost her sitooation--got the sack? Yes, I see that's about the
+cut of it. Her beastly temper! So they couldn't put up with it in the
+country any more than I could mesel'. Well, it's 'er own look-out! If she
+can afford to chuck up a place like that, so much the better for 'er.
+Pity, though; she might 'ave put me up to many a good thing."
+
+"It ain't that, Jim. The girl is in trouble."
+
+"Wot do yer say? Esther in trouble? Well, that's the best bit I've heard
+this long while. I always told ye that the religious ones were just the
+same as the others--a bit more hypocritical, that's all. So she that
+wouldn't 'ave nothing to do with such as was Mrs. Dunbar 'as got 'erself
+into trouble! Well I never! But 'tis just what I always suspected. The
+goody-goody sort are the worst. So she 'as got 'erself into trouble! Well,
+she'll 'ave to get 'erself out of it."
+
+"Now, Jim, dear, yer mustn't be 'ard on 'er; she could tell a very
+different story if she wished it, but yer know what she is. There she sits
+like a block of marble, and won't as much as say a word in 'er own
+defence."
+
+"But I don't want 'er to speak. I don't care, it's nothing to me; I only
+laughed because--"
+
+"Jim, dear, it is something to all of us. What we thought was that you
+might let her stop 'ere till her time was come to go to the 'orspital."
+
+"Ah, that's it, is it? That was the meaning of the 'alf-pound of steak and
+the pint of porter, was it. I thought there was something hup. So she
+wants to stop 'ere, do she? As if there wasn't enough already! Well, I be
+blowed if she do! A nice thing, too; a girl can't go away to service
+without coming back to her respectable 'ome in trouble--in trouble, she
+calls it. Now, I won't 'ave it; there's enough 'ere as it is, and another
+coming, worse luck. We wants no bastards 'ere.... And a nice example, too,
+for the other children! No, I won't 'ave it!"
+
+Jenny and Julia looked curiously at Esther, who sat quite still, her face
+showing no sign of emotion. Mrs. Saunders turned towards her, a pitying
+look on her face, saying clearly, "You see, my poor girl, how matters
+stand; I can do nothing."
+
+The girl, although she did not raise her eyes, understood what was passing
+in her mother's mind, for there was a grave deliberativeness in the manner
+in which she rose from the chair.
+
+But just as the daughter had guessed what was passing in the mother's
+mind, so did the mother guess what was passing in the daughter's. Mrs.
+Saunders threw herself before Esther, saying, "Oh, no, Esther, wait a
+moment; 'e won't be 'ard on 'ee." Then turning to her husband, "Yer don't
+understand, Jim. It is only for a little time."
+
+"No, I tell yer. No, I won't 'ave it! There be too many 'ere as it is."
+
+"Only a little while, Jim."
+
+"No. And those who ain't wanted 'ad better go at once--that's my advice to
+them. The place is as full of us that we can 'ardly turn round as it is.
+No, I won't 'ear of it!"
+
+"But, Jim, Esther is quite willing to pay her way; she's saved a good
+little sum of money, and could afford to pay us ten shillings a week for
+board and the parlour."
+
+A perplexed look came on Jim's face.
+
+"Why didn't yer tell me that afore? Of course I don't wish to be 'ard on
+the girl, as yer 'ave just heard me say. Ten shillings a week for her
+board and the parlour--that seems fair enough; and if it's any convenience
+to 'er to remain, I'm sure we'll be glad to 'ave 'er. I'll say right glad,
+too. We was always good friends, Esther, wasn't we, though ye wasn't one
+of my own?" So saying, Jim held out his hand.
+
+Esther tried to pass by her mother. "I don't want to stop where I'm not
+wanted; I wants no one's charity. Let me go, mother."
+
+"No, no, Esther. 'Aven't yer 'eard what 'e says? Ye are my child if you
+ain't 'is, and it would break my 'eart, that it would, to see you go away
+among strangers. Yer place is among yer own people, who'll look after
+you."
+
+"Now, then, Esther, why should there be ill feeling. I didn't mean any
+'arm. There's a lot of us 'ere, and I've to think of the interests of my
+own. But for all that I should be main sorry to see yer take yer money
+among strangers, where you wouldn't get no value for it. You'd better
+stop. I'm sorry for what I said. Ain't that enough for yer?"
+
+"Jim, Jim, dear, don't say no more; leave 'er to me. Esther, for my sake
+stop with us. You are in trouble, and it is right for you to stop with me.
+Jim 'as said no more than the truth. With all the best will in the world
+we couldn't afford to keep yer for nothing, but since yer can pay yer way,
+it is yer duty to stop. Think, Esther, dear, think. Go and shake 'ands
+with 'im, and I'll go and make yer up a bed on the sofa."
+
+"There's no bloody need for 'er to shake my 'and if she don't like," Jim
+replied, and he pulled doggedly at his pipe.
+
+Esther tried, but her fierce and heavy temper held her back. She couldn't
+go to her father for reconciliation, and the matter might have ended quite
+differently, but suddenly, without another word, Jim put on his hat and
+went out to join "his chaps" who were waiting for him about the
+public-house, close to the cab-rank in the Vauxhall Bridge Road. The door
+was hardly closed behind him when the young children laughed and ran about
+joyously, and Jenny and Julia went over to Esther and begged her to stop.
+
+"Of course she'll stop," said Mrs. Saunders. "And now, Esther, come along
+and help me to make you up a bed in the parlour."
+
+
+
+
+XIV
+
+
+Esther was fast asleep next morning when Mrs. Saunders came into the
+parlour. Mrs. Saunders stood looking at her, and Esther turned suddenly on
+the sofa and said----
+
+"What time is it, mother?"
+
+"It's gone six; but don't you get up. You're your own mistress whilst
+you're here; you pays for what you 'as."
+
+"I can't afford them lazy habits. There's plenty of work here, and I must
+help you with some of it."
+
+"Plenty of work here, that's right enough. But why should you bother, and
+you nearly seven months gone? I daresay you feels that 'eavy that you
+never care to get out of your chair. But they says that them who works up
+to the last 'as the easiest time in the end. Not that I've found it so."
+
+The conversation paused. Esther threw her legs over the side of the sofa,
+and still wrapped in the blanket, sat looking at her mother.
+
+"You can't be over-comfortable on that bit of sofa," said Mrs. Saunders.
+
+"Lor, I can manage right enough, if that was all."
+
+"You is that cast down, Esther; you mustn't give way. Things sometimes
+turns out better than one expects."
+
+"You never found they did, mother."
+
+"Perhaps I didn't, but that says nothing for others. We must bear up as
+best we can."
+
+One word led to another, and very soon Esther was telling her mother the
+whole tale of her misfortune--all about William, the sweepstakes, the ball
+at the Shoreham Gardens, the walks about the farm and hillside.
+
+"Service is no place for a girl who wants to live as we used to live when
+father was alive--no service that I've seen. I see that plain enough.
+Mistress was one of the Brethren like ourselves, and she had to put up
+with betting and drinking and dancing, and never a thought of the Lord.
+There was no standing out against it. They call you Creeping Jesus if you
+say your prayers, and you can't say them with a girl laughing or singing
+behind your back, so you think you'll say them to yourself in bed, but
+sleep comes sooner than you expect, and so you slips out of the habit.
+Then the drinking. We was brought up teetotal, but they're always pressing
+it upon you, and to please him I said I would drink the 'orse's 'ealth.
+That's how it began.... You don't know what it is, mother; you only knew
+God-fearing men until you married him. We aren't all good like you,
+mother. But I thought no harm, indeed I didn't."
+
+"A girl can't know what a man is thinking of, and we takes the worst for
+the best."
+
+"I don't say that I was altogether blameless but--"
+
+"You didn't know he was that bad."
+
+Esther hesitated.
+
+"I knew he was like other men. But he told me--he promised me he'd marry
+me."
+
+Mrs. Saunders did not answer, and Esther said, "You don't believe I'm
+speaking the truth."
+
+"Yes, I do, dearie. I was only thinking. You're my daughter; no mother had
+a better daughter. There never was a better girl in this world."
+
+"I was telling you, mother--"
+
+"But I don't want no telling that my Esther ain't a bad girl."
+
+Mrs. Saunders sat nodding her head, a sweet, uncritical mother; and Esther
+understood how unselfishly her mother loved her, and how simply she
+thought of how she might help her in her trouble. Neither spoke, and
+Esther continued dressing.
+
+"You 'aven't told me what you think of your room. It looks pretty, don't
+you think? I keeps it as nice as I can. Jenny hung up them pictures. They
+livens it up a bit," she said, pointing to the coloured supplements, from
+the illustrated papers, on the wall. "The china shepherd and shepherdess,
+you know; they was at Barnstaple."
+
+When Esther was dressed, she and Mrs. Saunders knelt down and said a
+prayer together. Then Esther said she would make up her room, and when
+that was done she insisted on helping her mother with the housework.
+
+In the afternoon she sat with her sisters, helping them with their dogs,
+folding the paper into the moulds, pasting it down, or cutting the skins
+into the requisite sizes. About five, when the children had had their tea,
+she and her mother went for a short walk. Very often they strolled through
+Victoria Station, amused by the bustle of the traffic, or maybe they
+wandered down the Buckingham Palace Road, attracted by the shops. And
+there was a sad pleasure in these walks. The elder woman had borne years
+of exceeding trouble, and felt her strength failing under her burdens,
+which instead of lightening were increasing; the younger woman was full of
+nervous apprehension for the future and grief for the past. But they loved
+each other deeply. Esther threw herself in the way to protect her mother,
+whether at a dangerous crossing or from the heedlessness of the crowd at a
+corner, and often a passer-by turned his head and looked after them,
+attracted by the solicitude which the younger woman showed for the elder.
+In those walks very little was said. They walked in silence, slipping now
+and then into occasional speech, and here and there a casual allusion or a
+broken sentence would indicate what was passing in their minds.
+
+One day some flannel and shirts in a window caught Mrs. Saunder's eye, and
+she said--
+
+"It is time, Esther, you thought about your baby clothes. One must be
+prepared; one never knows if one will go one's full time."
+
+The words came upon Esther with something of a shock, helping her to
+realise the imminence of her trouble.
+
+"You must have something by you, dear; one never knows how it is going to
+turn out; even I who have been through it do feel that nervous. I looks
+round the kitchen when I'm taken with the pains, and I says, 'I may never
+see this room again.'"
+
+The words were said in an undertone to Esther, and the shop-woman turned
+to get down the ready-made things which Mrs. Saunders had asked to see.
+
+"Here," said the shopwoman, "is the gown, longcloth, one-and-sixpence;
+here is the flannel, one-and-sixpence; and here is the little shirt,
+sixpence."
+
+"You must have these to go on with, dear, and if the baby lives you'll
+want another set."
+
+"Oh, mother, of course he'll live; why shouldn't he?"
+
+Even the shopwoman smiled, and Mrs. Saunders, addressing the shopwoman,
+said--
+
+"Them that knows nothing about it is allus full of 'ope."
+
+The shopwoman raised her eyes, sighed, and inquired sympathetically if
+this was the young lady's first confinement.
+
+Mrs. Saunders nodded and sighed, and then the shopwoman asked Mrs.
+Saunders if she required any baby clothes. Mrs. Saunders said she had all
+she required. The parcel was made up, and they were preparing to leave,
+when Esther said--
+
+"I may as well buy the material and make another set--it will give me
+something to do in the afternoons. I think I should like to make them."
+
+We have some first-rate longcloth at sixpence-half-penny a yard."
+
+"You might take three yards, Esther; if anything should happen to yer
+bairn it will always come in useful. And you had better take three yards
+of flannel. How much is yer flannel?"
+
+"We have some excellent flannel," said the woman, lifting down a long,
+heavy package in dull yellow paper; "this is ten-pence a yard. You will
+want a finer longcloth for the little shirts."
+
+And every afternoon Esther sat in the parlour by the window, seeing, when
+she raised her eyes from the sewing, the low brick street full of
+children, and hearing the working women calling from the open doors or
+windows; and as she worked at the baby clothes, never perhaps to be worn,
+her heart sank at the long prospect that awaited her, the end of which she
+could not see, for it seemed to reach to the very end of her life. In
+these hours she realised in some measure the duties that life held in
+store, and it seemed to her that they exceeded her strength. Never would
+she be able to bring him up--he would have no one to look to but her. She
+never imagined other than that her child would be a boy. The task was
+clearly more than she could perform, and in despair she thought it would
+be better for it to die. What would happen if she remained out of a
+situation? Her father would not have her at home, that she knew well
+enough. What should she do, and the life of another depending on her? She
+would never see William again--that was certain. He had married a lady,
+and, were they to meet, he would not look at her. Her temper grew hot, and
+the memory of the injustice of which she had been a victim pressed upon
+her. But when vain anger passed away she thought of her baby, anticipating
+the joy she would experience when he held out tiny hands to her, and that,
+too, which she would feel when he laid an innocent cheek to hers; and her
+dream persisting, she saw him learning a trade, going to work in the
+morning and coming back to her in the evening, proud in the accomplishment
+of something done, of good money honestly earned.
+
+She thought a great deal, too, of her poor mother, who was looking
+strangely weak and poorly, and whose condition was rendered worse by her
+nervous fears that she would not get through this confinement. For the
+doctor had told Mrs. Saunders that the next time it might go hard with
+her; and in this house, her husband growing more reckless and drunken, it
+was altogether a bad look-out, and she might die for want of a little
+nourishment or a little care. Unfortunately they would both be down at the
+same time, and it was almost impossible that Esther should be well in time
+to look after her mother. That brute! It was wrong to think of her father
+so, but he seemed to be without mercy for any of them. He had come in
+yesterday half-boozed, having kept back part of his money--he had come in
+tramping and hiccuping.
+
+"Now, then, old girl, out with it! I must have a few halfpence; my chaps
+is waiting for me, and I can't be looking down their mouths with nothing
+in my pockets."
+
+"I only have a few halfpence to get the children a bit of dinner; if I
+give them to you they'll have nothing to eat."
+
+"Oh, the children can eat anything; I want beer. If yer 'aven't money,
+make it."
+
+Mrs. Saunders said that if he had any spare clothes she would take them
+round the corner. He only answered--
+
+"Well, if I 'aven't a spare waistcoat left just take some of yer own
+things. I tell yer I want beer, and I mean to have some."
+
+Then, with his fist raised, he came at his poor wife, ordering her to take
+one of the sheets from the bed and "make money," and would have struck her
+if Esther had not come between them and, with her hand in her pocket,
+said, "Be quiet, father; I'll give you the money you want."
+
+She had done the same before, and, if needs be, she would do so again. She
+could not see her mother struck, perhaps killed by that brute; her first
+duty was to save her mother, but these constant demands on her little
+savings filled her with terror. She would want every penny; the ten
+shillings he had already had from her might be the very sum required to
+put her on her feet again, and send her in search of a situation where she
+would be able to earn money for the boy. But if this extortion continued
+she did not know what she would do, and that night she prayed that God
+might not delay the birth of her child.
+
+
+
+
+XV
+
+
+"I wish, mother, you was going to the hospital with me; it would save a
+lot of expense and you'd be better cared for."
+
+"I'd like to be with you, dearie, but I can't leave my 'ome, all these
+young children about and no one to give an order. I must stop where I am.
+But I've been intending to tell you--it is time that you was thinking
+about yer letter."
+
+"What letter, mother?"
+
+"They don't take you without a letter from one of the subscribers. If I
+was you, now that the weather is fine and you have strength for the walk,
+I'd go up to Queen Charlotte's. It is up the Edgware Road way, I think.
+What do you think about to-morrow?"
+
+"To-morrow's Sunday."
+
+"That makes no matter, them horspitals is open."
+
+"I'll go to-morrow when we have washed up."
+
+On Friday Esther had had to give her father more money for drink. She gave
+him two shillings, and that made a sovereign that he had had from her. On
+Saturday night he had been brought home helplessly drunk long after
+midnight, and next morning one of the girls had to fetch him a drop of
+something to pull him together. He had lain in bed until dinner-time,
+swearing he would brain anyone who made the least noise. Even the Sunday
+dinner, a nice beef-steak pudding, hardly tempted him, and he left the
+table saying that if he could find Tom Carter they would take a penny boat
+and go for a blow on the river. The whole family waited for his departure.
+But he lingered, talked inconsequently, and several times Mrs. Saunders
+and the children gave up hope. Esther sat without a word. He called her a
+sulky brute, and, snatching up his hat, left the house. The moment he was
+gone the children began to chatter like birds. Esther put on her hat and
+jacket.
+
+"I'm going, mother."
+
+"Well, take care of yourself. Good luck to you."
+
+Esther smiled sadly. But the beautiful weather melted on her lips, her
+lungs swelled with the warm air, and she noticed the sparrow that flew
+across the cab rank, and saw the black dot pass down a mews and disappear
+under the eaves. It was a warm day in the middle of April, a mist of green
+had begun in the branches of the elms of the Green Park; and in Park Lane,
+in all the balconies and gardens, wherever nature could find roothold, a
+spray of gentle green met the eye. There was music, too, in the air, the
+sound of fifes and drums, and all along the roadway as far as she could
+see the rapid movement of assembling crowds. A procession with banners was
+turning the corner of the Edgware Road, and the policeman had stopped the
+traffic to allow it to pass. The principal banner blew out blue and gold
+in the wind, and the men that bore the poles walked with strained backs
+under the weight; the music changed, opinions about the objects of the
+demonstration were exchanged, and it was some time before Esther could
+gain the policeman's attention. At last the conductor rang his bell, the
+omnibus started, and gathering courage she asked the way. It seemed to her
+that every one was noticing her, and fearing to be overheard she spoke so
+low that the policeman understood her to say Charlotte Street. At that
+moment an omnibus drew up close beside them.
+
+"Charlotte Street, Charlotte Street," said the policeman, "there's
+Charlotte Street, Bloomsbury." Before Esther could answer he had turned to
+the conductor. "You don't know any Charlotte Street about here, do you?"
+
+"No, I don't. But can't yer see that it ain't no Charlotte Street she
+wants, but Queen Charlotte's Hospital? And ye'd better lose no time in
+directing her."
+
+A roar of coarse laughter greeted this pleasantry, and burning with shame
+she hurried down the Edgware Road. But she had not gone far before she had
+to ask again, and she scanned the passers-by seeking some respectable
+woman, or in default an innocent child.
+
+She came at last to an ugly desert place. There was the hospital, square,
+forbidding; and opposite a tall, lean building with long grey columns.
+Esther rang, and the great door, some fifteen feet high, was opened by a
+small boy.
+
+"I want to see the secretary."
+
+"Will you come this way?"
+
+She was shown into a waiting-room, and while waiting she looked at the
+religious prints on the walls. A lad of fifteen or sixteen came in. He
+said--
+
+"You want to see the secretary?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"But I'm afraid you can't see him; he's out."
+
+"I have come a long way; is there no one else I can see?"
+
+"Yes, you can see me--I'm his clerk. Have you come to be confined?"
+
+Esther answered that she had.
+
+"But," said the boy, "you are not in labour; we never take anyone in
+before."
+
+"I do not expect to be confined for another month. I came to make
+arrangements."
+
+"You've got a letter?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Then you must get a letter from one of the subscribers."
+
+"But I do not know any."
+
+"You can have a book of their names and addresses."
+
+"But I know no one."
+
+"You needn't know them. You can go and call. Take those that live
+nearest--that's the way it is done."
+
+"Then will you give me the book?"
+
+"I'll go and get one."
+
+The boy returned a moment after with a small book, for which he demanded a
+shilling. Since she had come to London her hand had never been out of her
+pocket. She had her money with her; she did not dare leave it at home on
+account of her father. The clerk looked out the addresses for her and she
+tried to remember them--two were in Cumberland Place, another was in
+Bryanstone Square. In Cumberland Place she was received by an elderly lady
+who said she did not wish to judge anyone, but it was her invariable
+practice to give letters only to married women. There was a delicate smell
+of perfume in the room; the lady stirred the fire and lay back in her
+armchair. Once or twice Esther tried to withdraw, but the lady, although
+unswervingly faithful to her principles, seemed not indifferent to
+Esther's story, and asked her many questions.
+
+"I don't see what interest all that can be to you, as you ain't going to
+give me a letter," Esther answered.
+
+The next house she called at the lady was not at home, but she was
+expected back presently, and the maid servant asked her to take a seat in
+the hall. But when Esther refused information about her troubles she was
+called a stuck-up thing who deserved all she got, and was told there was
+no use her waiting. At the next place she was received by a footman who
+insisted on her communicating her business to him. Then he said he would
+see if his master was in. He wasn't in; he must have just gone out. The
+best time to find him was before half-past ten in the morning.
+
+"He'll be sure to do all he can for you--he always do for the good-looking
+ones. How did it all happen?"
+
+"What business is that of yours? I don't ask your business."
+
+"Well, you needn't turn that rusty."
+
+At that moment the master entered. He asked Esther to come into his study.
+He was a tall, youngish-looking man of three or four-and-thirty, with
+bright eyes and hair, and there was in his voice and manner a kindness
+that impressed Esther. She wished, however, that she had seen his mother
+instead of him, for she was more than ever ashamed of her condition. He
+seemed genuinely sorry for her, and regretted that he had given all his
+tickets away. Then a thought struck him, and he wrote a letter to one of
+his friends, a banker in Lincoln's Inn Fields. This gentleman, he said,
+was a large subscriber to the hospital, and would certainly give her the
+letter she required. He hoped that Esther would get through her trouble
+all right.
+
+The visit brought a little comfort into the girl's heart; and thinking of
+his kind eyes she walked slowly, inquiring out her way until she got back
+to the Marble Arch, and stood looking down the long Bayswater Road. The
+lamps were beginning in the light, and the tall houses towered above the
+sunset. Esther watched the spectral city, and some sensation of the poetry
+of the hour must have stolen into her heart, for she turned into the Park,
+choosing to walk there. Upon its dim green grey the scattered crowds were
+like strips of black tape. Here and there by the railings the tape had
+been wound up in a black ball, and the peg was some democratic orator,
+promising poor human nature unconditional deliverance from evil. Further
+on were heard sounds from a harmonium, and hymns were being sung, and in
+each doubting face there was something of the perplexing, haunting look
+which the city wore.
+
+A chill wind was blowing. Winter had returned with the night, but the
+instinct of spring continued in the branches. The deep, sweet scent of the
+hyacinth floated along the railings, and the lovers that sat with their
+arms about each other on every seat were of Esther's own class. She would
+have liked to have called them round her and told them her miserable
+story, so that they might profit by her experience.
+
+
+
+
+XVI
+
+
+No more than three weeks now remained between her and the dreaded day. She
+had hoped to spend them with her mother, who was timorous and desponding,
+and stood in need of consolation. But this was not to be; her father's
+drunkenness continued, and daily he became more extortionate in his
+demands for money. Esther had not six pounds left, and she felt that she
+must leave. It had come to this, that she doubted if she were to stay on
+that the clothes on her back might not be taken from her. Mrs. Saunders
+was of the same opinion, and she urged Esther to go. But scruples
+restrained her.
+
+"I can't bring myself to leave you, mother; something tells me I should
+stay with you. It is dreadful to be parted from you. I wish you was coming
+to the hospital; you'd be far safer there than at home."
+
+"I know that, dearie; but where's the good in talking about it? It only
+makes it harder to bear. You know I can't leave. It is terrible hard, as
+you says." Mrs. Saunders held her apron to her eyes and cried. "You have
+always been a good girl, never a better--my one consolation since your
+poor father died."
+
+"Don't cry, mother," said Esther; "the Lord will watch over us, and we
+shall both pray for each other. In about a month, dear, we shall be both
+quite well, and you'll bless my baby, and I shall think of the time when I
+shall put him into your arms."
+
+"I hope so, Esther; I hope so, but I am full of fears. I'm sore afraid
+that we shall never see one another again--leastways on this earth."
+
+"Oh, mother, dear, yer mustn't talk like that; you'll break my heart, that
+you will."
+
+The cab that took Esther to her lodging cost half-a-crown, and this waste
+of money frightened her thrifty nature, inherited through centuries of
+working folk. The waste, however, had ceased at last, and it was none too
+soon, she thought, as she sat in the room she had taken near the hospital,
+in a little eight-roomed house, kept by an old woman whose son was a
+bricklayer.
+
+It was at the end of the week, one afternoon, as Esther was sitting alone
+in her room, that there came within her a great and sudden shock--life
+seemed to be slipping from her, and she sat for some minutes quite unable
+to move. She knew that her time had come, and when the pain ceased she
+went downstairs to consult Mrs. Jones.
+
+"Hadn't I better go to the hospital now, Mrs. Jones?"
+
+"Not just yet, my dear; them is but the first labour pains; plenty of time
+to think of the hospital; we shall see how you are in a couple of hours."
+
+"Will it last so long as that?"
+
+"You'll be lucky if you get it over before midnight. I have been down for
+longer than that."
+
+"Do you mind my stopping in the kitchen with you? I feel frightened when
+I'm alone."
+
+"No, I'll be glad of your company. I'll get you some tea presently."
+
+"I could not touch anything. Oh, this is dreadful!" she exclaimed, and she
+walked to and fro holding her sides, balancing herself dolefully. Often
+Mrs. Jones stopped in her work about the range and said, looking at her,
+"I know what it is, I have been through it many a time--we all must--it is
+our earthly lot." About seven o'clock Esther was clinging to the table,
+and with pain so vivid on her face that Mrs. Jones laid aside the sausages
+she was cooking and approached the suffering girl.
+
+"What! is it so bad as all that?"
+
+"Oh," she said, "I think I'm dying, I cannot stand up; give me a chair,
+give me a chair!" and she sank down upon it, leaning across the table, her
+face and neck bathed in a cold sweat.
+
+"John will have to get his supper himself; I'll leave these sausages on
+the hob, and run upstairs and put on my bonnet. The things you intend to
+bring with you, the baby clothes, are made up in a bundle, aren't they?"
+
+"Yes, yes."
+
+Little Mrs. Jones came running down; she threw a shawl over Esther, and it
+was astonishing what support she lent to the suffering girl, calling on
+her the whole time to lean on her and not to be afraid. "Now then, dear,
+you must keep your heart up, we have only a few yards further to go."
+
+"You are too good, you are too kind," Esther said, and she leaned against
+the wall, and Mrs. Jones rang the bell.
+
+"Keep up your spirits; to-morrow it will be all over. I will come round
+and see how you are."
+
+The door opened. The porter rang the bell, and a sister came running down.
+
+"Come, come, take my arm," she said, "and breathe hard as you are
+ascending the stairs. Come along, you mustn't loiter."
+
+On the second landing a door was thrown open, and she found herself in a
+room full of people, eight or nine young men and women.
+
+"What! in there? and all those people?" said Esther.
+
+"Of course; those are the midwives and the students."
+
+She saw that the screams she had heard in the passage came from a bed on
+the left-hand side. A woman lay there huddled up. In the midst of her
+terror Esther was taken behind a screen by the sister who had brought her
+upstairs and quickly undressed. She was clothed in a chemise a great deal
+too big for her, and a jacket which was also many sizes too large. She
+remembered hearing the sister say so at the time. Both windows were wide
+open, and as she walked across the room she noticed the basins on the
+floor, the lamp on the round table, and the glint of steel instruments.
+
+The students and the nurses were behind her; she knew they were eating
+sweets, for she heard a young man ask the young women if they would have
+any more fondants. Their chatter and laughter jarred on her nerves; but at
+that moment her pains began again and she saw the young man whom she had
+seen handing the sweets approaching her bedside.
+
+"Oh, no, not him, not him!" she cried to the nurse. "Not him, not him! he
+is too young! Do not let him come near me!"
+
+They laughed loudly, and she buried her head in the pillow, overcome with
+pain and shame; and when she felt him by her she tried to rise from the
+bed.
+
+"Let me go! take me away! Oh, you are all beasts!"
+
+"Come, come, no nonsense!" said the nurse; "you can't have what you like;
+they are here to learn;" and when he had tried the pains she heard the
+midwife say that it wasn't necessary to send for the doctor. Another said
+that it would be all over in about three hours' time. "An easy
+confinement, I should say. The other will be more interesting...." Then
+they talked of the plays they had seen, and those they wished to see. A
+discussion arose regarding the merits of a shilling novel which every one
+was reading, and then Esther heard a stampede of nurses, midwives, and
+students in the direction of the window. A German band had come into the
+street.
+
+"Is that the way to leave your patient, sister?" said the student who sat
+by Esther's bed, a good-looking boy with a fair, plump face. Esther looked
+into his clear blue, girl-like eyes, wondered, and turned away for shame.
+
+The sister stopped her imitation of a popular comedian, and said, "Oh,
+she's all right; if they were all like her there'd be very little use our
+coming here."
+
+"Unfortunately that's just what they are," said another student, a stout
+fellow with a pointed red beard, the ends of which caught the light.
+Esther's eyes often went to those stubble ends, and she hated him for his
+loud voice and jocularity. One of the midwives, a woman with a long nose
+and small grey eyes, seemed to mock her, and Esther hoped that this woman
+would not come near her. She felt that she could not bear her touch. There
+was something sinister in her face, and Esther was glad when her
+favourite, a little blond woman with wavy flaxen hair, came and asked her
+if she felt better. She looked a little like the young student who still
+sat by her bedside, and Esther wondered if they were brother and sister,
+and then she thought that they were sweethearts.
+
+Soon after a bell rang, and the students went down to supper, the nurse in
+charge promising to warn them if any change should take place. The last
+pains had so thoroughly exhausted her that she had fallen into a doze. But
+she could hear the chatter of the nurses so clearly that she did not
+believe herself asleep. And in this film of sleep reality was distorted,
+and the unsuccessful operation which the nurses were discussing Esther
+understood to be a conspiracy against her life. She awoke, listened, and
+gradually sense of the truth returned to her. She was in the hospital....
+The nurses were talking of some one who had died last week.... That poor
+woman in the other bed seemed to suffer dreadfully. Would she live through
+it? Would she herself live to see the morning? How long the time, how
+fearful the place! If the nurses would only stop talking.... The pains
+would soon begin again.... It was awful to lie listening, waiting. The
+windows were open, and the mocking gaiety of the street was borne in on
+the night wind. Then there came a trampling of feet and sound of voices in
+the passage--the students and nurses were coming up from supper; and at
+the same moment the pains began to creep up from her knees. One of the
+young men said that her time had not come. The woman with the sinister
+look that Esther dreaded, held a contrary opinion. The point was argued,
+and, interested in the question, the crowd came from the window and
+collected round the disputants. The young man expounded much medical and
+anatomical knowledge; the nurses listened with the usual deference of
+women.
+
+Suddenly the discussion was interrupted by a scream from Esther; it seemed
+to her that she was being torn asunder, that life was going from her. The
+nurse ran to her side, a look of triumph came upon her face, and she said,
+"Now we shall see who's right," and forthwith ran for the doctor. He came
+running up the stairs; immediately silence and scientific collectedness
+gathered round Esther, and after a brief examination he said, in a low
+whisper--
+
+"I'm afraid this will not be as easy a case as one might have imagined. I
+shall administer chloroform."
+
+He placed a small wire case over her mouth and nose, and the sickly odour
+which she breathed from the cotton wool filled her brain with nausea; it
+seemed to choke her, and then life faded, and at every inhalation she
+expected to lose sight of the circle of faces.
+
+       *       *       *       *       *
+
+When she opened her eyes the doctors and nurses were still standing round
+her, but there was no longer any expression of eager interest on their
+faces. She wondered at this change, and then out of the silence there came
+a tiny cry.
+
+"What's that?" Esther asked.
+
+"That's your baby."
+
+"My baby! Let me see it; is it a boy or a girl?"
+
+"It is a boy; it will be given to you when we get you out of the labour
+ward."
+
+"I knew it would be a boy." Then a scream of pain rent the stillness of
+the room. "Is that the same woman who was here when I first came in?
+Hasn't she been confined yet?"
+
+"No, and I don't think she will be till midday; she's very bad."
+
+The door was thrown open, and Esther was wheeled into the passage. She was
+like a convalescent plant trying to lift its leaves to the strengthening
+light, but within this twilight of nature the thought of another life, now
+in the world, grew momentarily more distinct. "Where is my boy?" she said;
+"give him to me."
+
+The nurse entered, and answered, "Here." A pulp of red flesh rolled up in
+flannel was laid alongside of her. Its eyes were open; it looked at her,
+and her flesh filled with a sense of happiness so deep and so intense that
+she was like one enchanted. When she took the child in her arms she
+thought she must die of happiness. She did not hear the nurse speak, nor
+did she understand her when she took the babe from her arms and laid it
+alongside on the pillow, saying, "You must let the little thing sleep, you
+must try to sleep yourself."
+
+Her personal self seemed entirely withdrawn; she existed like an
+atmosphere about the babe, an impersonal emanation of love. She lay
+absorbed in this life of her life, this flesh of her flesh, unconscious of
+herself as a sponge in warm sea-water. She touched this pulp of life, and
+was thrilled, and once more her senses swooned with love; it was still
+there. She remembered that the nurse had said it was a boy. She must see
+her boy, and her hands, working as in a dream, unwound him, and, delirious
+with love, she gazed until he awoke and cried. She tried to hush him and
+to enfold him, but her strength failed, she could not help him, and fear
+came lest he should die. She strove to reach her hands to him, but all
+strength had gone from her, and his cries sounded hollow in her weak
+brain. Then the nurse came and said--
+
+"See what you have done, the poor child is all uncovered; no wonder he is
+crying. I will wrap him up, and you must not interfere with him again."
+But as soon as the nurse turned away Esther had her child back in her
+arms. She did not sleep. She could not sleep for thinking of him, and the
+long night passed in adoration.
+
+
+
+
+XVII
+
+
+She was happy, her babe lay beside her. All her joints were loosened, and
+the long hospital days passed in gentle weariness. Lady visitors came and
+asked questions. Esther said that her father and mother lived in the
+Vauxhall Bridge Road, and she admitted that she had saved four pounds.
+There were two beds in this ward, and the woman who occupied the second
+bed declared herself to be destitute, without home, or money, or friends.
+She secured all sympathy and promises of help, and Esther was looked upon
+as a person who did not need assistance and ought to have known better.
+They received visits from a clergyman. He spoke to Esther of God's
+goodness and wisdom, but his exhortations seemed a little remote, and
+Esther was sad and ashamed that she was not more deeply stirred. Had it
+been her own people who came and knelt about her bed, lifting their voices
+in the plain prayers she was accustomed to, it might have been different;
+but this well-to-do clergyman, with his sophisticated speech, seemed
+foreign to her, and failed to draw her thoughts from the sleeping child.
+
+The ninth day passed, but Esther recovered slowly, and it was decided that
+she should not leave the hospital before the end of the third week. She
+knew that when she crossed the threshold of the hospital there would be no
+more peace for her; and she was frightened as she listened to the
+never-ending rumble of the street. She spent whole hours thinking of her
+dear mother, and longing for some news from home, and her face brightened
+when she was told that her sister had come to see her.
+
+"Jenny, what has happened; is mother very bad?"
+
+"Mother is dead, that's what I've come to tell you; I'd have come before,
+but----"
+
+"Mother dead! Oh, no, Jenny! Oh, Jenny, not my poor mother!"
+
+"Yes Esther. I knew it would cut you up dreadful; we was all very sorry,
+but she's dead. She's dead a long time now, I was just a-going to tell
+you----"
+
+"Jenny, what do you mean? Dead a long time?"
+
+"Well, she was buried more than a week ago. We were so sorry you couldn't
+be at the funeral. We was all there, and had crape on our dresses and
+father had crape on his 'at. We all cried, especially in church and about
+the grave, and when the sexton threw in the soil it sounded that hollow it
+made me sob. Julia, she lost her 'ead and asked to be buried with mother,
+and I had to lead her away; and then we went 'ome to dinner."
+
+"Oh, Jenny, our poor mother gone from us for ever! How did she die? Tell
+me, was it a peaceful death? Did she suffer?"
+
+"There ain't much to tell. Mother was taken bad almost immediately after
+you was with us the last time. Mother was that bad all the day long and
+all night too we could 'ardly stop in the 'ouse; it gave one just the
+creeps to listen to her crying and moaning."
+
+"And then?"
+
+"Why, then the baby was born. It was dead, and mother died of weakness;
+prostration the doctor called it."
+
+Esther hid her face in the pillow. Jenny waited, and an anxious look of
+self began to appear on the vulgar London street face.
+
+"Look 'ere, Esther, you can cry when I've gone; I've a deal to say to yer
+and time is short."
+
+"Oh, Jenny, don't speak like that! Father, was he kind to mother?"
+
+"I dunno that he thought much about it; he spent 'alf 'is time in the
+public, 'e did. He said he couldn't abide the 'ouse with a woman
+a-screaming like that. One of the neighbours came in to look after mother,
+and at last she had the doctor." Esther looked at her sister through
+streaming tears, and the woman in the other bed alluded to the folly of
+poor women being confined "in their own 'omes--in a 'ome where there is a
+drunken 'usband, and most 'omes is like that nowadays."
+
+At that moment Esther's baby awoke crying for the breast. The little lips
+caught at the nipple, the wee hand pressed the white curve, and in a
+moment Esther's face took that expression of holy solicitude which Raphael
+sublimated in the Virgin's downward-gazing eyes. Jenny watched the
+gluttonous lips, interested in the spectacle, and yet absorbed in what she
+had come to say to her sister.
+
+"Your baby do look 'ealthy."
+
+"Yes, and he is too, not an ache or a pain. He's as beautiful a boy as
+ever lived. But think of poor mother, Jenny, think of poor mother."
+
+"I do think of her, Esther. But I can't help seeing your baby. He's like
+you, Esther. I can see a look of you in 'is eyes. But I don't know that I
+should care to 'ave a baby meself--the expense comes very 'eavy on a poor
+girl."
+
+"Please God, my baby shall never want for anything as long as I can work
+for him. But, Jenny, my trouble will be a lesson to you. I hope you will
+always be a good girl, and never allow yourself to be led away; you
+promise me?"
+
+"Yes, I promise."
+
+"A 'ome like ours, a drunken father, and now that poor mother is gone it
+will be worse than ever. Jenny, you are the eldest and must do your best
+to look after the younger ones, and as much as possible to keep father
+from the public-house. I shall be away; the moment I'm well enough I must
+look out for a place."
+
+"That's just what I came to speak to you about. Father is going to
+Australia. He is that tired of England, and as he lost his situation on
+the railway he has made up his mind to emigrate. It is pretty well all
+arranged; he has been to an agency and they say he'll 'ave to pay two
+pounds a 'ead, and that runs to a lot of money in a big family like ours.
+So I'm likely to get left, for father says that I'm old enough to look
+after myself. He's willing to take me if I gets the money, not without.
+That's what I came to tell yer about."
+
+Esther understood that Jenny had come to ask for money. She could not give
+it, and lapsed into thinking of this sudden loss of all her family. She
+did not know where Australia was; she fancied that she had once heard that
+it took months to get there. But she knew that they were all going from
+her, they were going out on the sea in a great ship that would sail and
+sail further and further away. She could see the ship from her bedside, at
+first strangely distinct, alive with hands and handkerchiefs; she could
+distinguish all the children--Jenny, Julia, and little Ethel. She lost
+sight of their faces as the ship cleared the harbour. Soon after the ship
+was far away on the great round of waters, again a little while and all
+the streaming canvas not larger than a gull's wing, again a little while
+and the last speck on the horizon hesitated and disappeared.
+
+"What are you crying about, Esther? I never saw yer cry before. It do seem
+that odd."
+
+"I'm so weak. Mother's death has broken my heart, and now to know that I
+shall never see any one of you again."
+
+"It do seem 'ard. We shall miss you sadly. But I was going to say that
+father can't take me unless I finds two pounds. You won't see me stranded,
+will you, Esther?"
+
+"I cannot give you the money, Jenny. Father has had too much of my money
+already; there's 'ardly enough to see me through. I've only four pounds
+left. I cannot give you my child's money; God knows how we shall live
+until I can get to work again."
+
+"You're nearly well now. But if yer can't help me, yer can't. I don't know
+what's to be done. Father can't take me if I don't find the money."
+
+"You say the agency wants two pounds for each person?"
+
+"Yes, that's it."
+
+"And I've four. We might both go if it weren't for the baby, but I don't
+suppose they'd make any charge for a child on the breast."
+
+"I dunno. There's father; yer know what he is."
+
+"That's true. He don't want me; I'm not one of his. But, Jenny, dear, it
+is terrible to be left all alone. Poor mother dead, and all of you going
+to Australia. I shall never see one of you again."
+
+The conversation paused. Esther changed the baby from the left to the
+right breast, and Jenny tried to think what she had best say to induce her
+sister to give her the money she wanted.
+
+"If you don't give me the money I shall be left; it is hard luck, that's
+all, for there's fine chances for a girl, they says, out in Australia. If
+I remain 'ere I dunno what will become of me."
+
+"You had better look out for a situation. We shall see each other from
+time to time. It's a pity you don't know a bit of cooking, enough to take
+the place of kitchen-maid."
+
+"I only know that dog-making, and I've 'ad enough of that."
+
+"You can always get a situation as general servant in a lodging-'ouse."
+
+"Service in a lodging-'ouse! Not me. You know what that is. I'm surprised
+that you'd ask me."
+
+"Well, what are yer thinking of doing?"
+
+"I was thinking of going on in the pantomime as one of the hextra ladies,
+if they'll 'ave me."
+
+"Oh, Jenny, you won't do that, will you? A theatre is only sinfulness, as
+we 'ave always knowed."
+
+"You know that I don't 'old with all them preachy-preachy brethren says
+about the theatre."
+
+"I can't argue--I 'aven't the strength, and it interferes with the milk."
+And then, as if prompted by some association of ideas, Esther said, "I
+hope, Jenny, that you'll take example by me and will do nothing foolish;
+you'll always be a good girl."
+
+"Yes, if I gets the chance."
+
+"I'm sorry to 'ear you speak like that, and poor mother only just dead."
+
+The words that rose to Jenny's lips were: "A nice one you are, with a baby
+at your breast, to come a-lecturing me," but, fearing Esther's temper, she
+checked the dangerous words and said instead--
+
+"I didn't mean that I was a-going on the streets right away this very
+evening, only that a girl left alone in London without anyone to look to
+may go wrong in spite of herself, as it were."
+
+"A girl never need go wrong; if she does it is always 'er own fault."
+Esther spoke mechanically, but suddenly remembering her own circumstances
+she said: "I'd give you the money if I dared, but for the child's sake I
+mustn't."
+
+"You can afford it well enough--I wouldn't ask you if you couldn't. You'll
+be earning a pound a week presently."
+
+"A pound a week! What do you mean, Jenny?"
+
+"Yer can get that as wet-nurse, and yer food too."
+
+"How do yer know that, Jenny?"
+
+"A friend of mine who was 'ere last year told me she got it, and you can
+get it too if yer likes. Fancy a pound for the next six months, and
+everything found. Yer might spare me the money and let me go to Australia
+with the others."
+
+"I'd give yer the money if what you said was true."
+
+"Yer can easily find out what I say is the truth by sending for the
+matron. Shall I go and fetch her? I won't be a minute; you'll see what she
+says."
+
+A few moments after Jenny returned with a good-looking, middle-aged woman.
+On her face there was that testy and perplexed look that comes of much
+business and many interruptions. Before she had opened her lips her face
+had said: "Come, what is it? Be quick about it."
+
+"Father and the others is going to Australia. Mother's dead and was buried
+last week, so father says there's nothing to keep 'im 'ere, for there is
+better prospects out there. But he says he can't take me, for the agency
+wants two pounds a 'ead, and it was all he could do to find the money for
+the others. He is just short of two pounds, and as I'm the eldest barring
+Esther, who is 'is step-daughter, 'e says that I had better remain, that
+I'm old enough to get my own living, which is very 'ard on a girl, for I'm
+only just turned sixteen. So I thought that I would come up 'ere and tell
+my sister----"
+
+"But, my good girl, what has all this got to do with me? I can't give you
+two pounds to go to Australia. You are only wasting my time for nothing."
+
+"'Ear me out, missis. I want you to explain to my sister that you can get
+her a situation as a wet-nurse at a pound a week--that's the usual money
+they gets, so I told her, but she won't believe me; but if you tells her,
+she'll give me two pounds and I shall be able to go with father to
+Australia, where they says there is fine chances for a girl."
+
+The matron examined in critical disdain the vague skirt, the broken boots,
+and the misshapen hat, coming all the while to rapid conclusions regarding
+the moral value of this unabashed child of the gutter.
+
+"I think your sister will be very foolish if she gives you her money."
+
+"Oh, don't say that, missis, don't."
+
+"How does she know that your story is true? Perhaps you are not going to
+Australia at all."
+
+"Perhaps I'm not--that's just what I'm afraid of; but father is, and I can
+prove it to you. I've brought a letter from father--'ere it is; now, is
+that good enough for yer?"
+
+"Come, no impertinence, or I'll order you out of the hospital in double
+quick time," said the matron.
+
+"I didn't intend no impertinence," said Jenny humbly, "only I didn't like
+to be told I was telling lies when I was speaking the truth."
+
+"Well, I see that your father is going to Australia," the matron replied,
+returning the letter to Jenny; "you want your sister to give you her money
+to take you there too."
+
+"What I wants is for you to tell my sister that you can get her a
+situation as wet-nurse; then perhaps she'll give me the money."
+
+"If your sister wants to go out as wet-nurse, I daresay I could get her a
+pound a week."
+
+"But," said Esther, "I should have to put baby out at nurse."
+
+"You'll have to do that in any case," Jenny interposed; "you can't live
+for nine months on your savings and have all the nourishing food that
+you'll want to keep your milk going,"
+
+"If I was yer sister I'd see yer further before I'd give yer my money. You
+must 'ave a cheek to come a-asking for it, to go off to Australia where a
+girl 'as chances, and yer sister with a child at the breast left behind.
+Well I never!"
+
+Jenny and the matron turned suddenly and looked at the woman in the
+opposite bed who had so unexpectedly expressed her views. Jenny was
+furious.
+
+"What odds is it to you?" she screamed; "what business is it of yours,
+coming poking your nose in my affairs?"
+
+"Come, now, I can't have any rowing," exclaimed the matron.
+
+"Rowing! I should like to know what business it is of 'ers."
+
+"Hush, hush, I can't have you interfering with my patients; another word
+and I'll order you out of the hospital,"
+
+"Horder me out of the horspital! and what for? Who began it? No, missis,
+be fair; wait until my sister gives her answer."
+
+"Well, then, she must be quick about it--I can't wait about here all day."
+
+"I'll give my sister the money to take her to Australia if you say you can
+get me a situation as wet-nurse."
+
+"Yes, I think I can do that. It was four pounds five that you gave me to
+keep. I remember the amount, for since I've been here no one has come with
+half that. If they have five shillings they think they can buy half
+London."
+
+"My sister is very careful," said Jenny, sententiously. The matron looked
+sharply at her and said--
+
+"Now come along with me--I'm going to fetch your sister's money. I can't
+leave you here--you'd get quarrelling with my patients."
+
+"No, missis, indeed I won't say nothing to her."
+
+"Do as I tell you. Come along with me."
+
+So with a passing scowl Jenny expressed her contempt for the woman who had
+come "a-interfering in 'er business," and went after the matron, watching
+her every movement. When they came back Jenny's eyes were fixed on the
+matron's fat hand as if she could see the yellow metal through the
+fingers.
+
+"Here is your money," said the matron; "four pounds five. You can give
+your sister what you like."
+
+Esther held the four sovereigns and the two half-crowns in her hand for a
+moment, then she said--
+
+"Here, Jenny, are the two pounds you want to take you to Australia. I 'ope
+they'll bring you good luck, and that you'll think of me sometimes."
+
+"Indeed I will, Esther. You've been a good sister to me, indeed you 'ave;
+I shall never forget you, and will write to you.... It is very 'ard
+parting."
+
+"Come, come, never mind those tears. You have got your money; say good-bye
+to your sister and run along."
+
+"Don't be so 'eartless," cried Jenny, whose susceptibilities were now on
+the move. "'Ave yer no feeling; don't yer know what it is to bid good-bye
+to yer sister, and perhaps for ever?" Jenny flung herself into Esther's
+arms crying bitterly. "Oh, Esther, I do love you; yer 'ave been that kind
+to me I shall never forget it. I shall be very lonely without you. Write
+to me sometimes; it will be a comfort to hear how you are getting on. If I
+marry I'll send for you, and you'll bring the baby."
+
+"Do you think I'd leave him behind? Kiss 'im before you go."
+
+"Good-bye, Esther; take care of yourself."
+
+Esther was now alone in the world, and she remembered the night she walked
+home from the hospital and how cruel the city had seemed. She was now
+alone in that great wilderness with her child, for whom she would have to
+work for many, many years. How would it all end? Would she be able to live
+through it? Had she done right in letting Jenny have the money--her boy's
+money? She should not have given it; but she hardly knew what she was
+doing, she was so weak, and the news of her mother's death had overcome
+her. She should not have given Jenny her boy's money.... But perhaps it
+might turn out all right after all. If the matron got her a situation as
+wet-nurse she'd be able to pull through. "So they would separate us," she
+whispered, bending over the sleeping child. "There is no help for it, my
+poor darling. There's no help for it, no help for it."
+
+Next day Esther was taken out of bed. She spent part of the afternoon
+sitting in an easy-chair, and Mrs. Jones came to see her. The little old
+woman seemed like one whom she had known always, and Esther told her about
+her mother's death and the departure of her family for Australia. Perhaps
+a week lay between her and the beginning of the struggle which she
+dreaded. She had been told that they did not usually keep anyone in the
+hospital more than a fortnight. Three days after Mrs. Jones' visit the
+matron came into their room hurriedly.
+
+"I'm very sorry," she said, "but a number of new patients are expected;
+there's nothing for it but to get rid of you. It is a pity, for I can see
+you are both very weak."
+
+"What, me too?" said the woman in the other bed. "I can hardly stand; I
+tried just now to get across the room."
+
+"I'm very sorry, but we've new patients coming, and there's all our spring
+cleaning. Have you any place to go to?"
+
+"No place except a lodging," said Esther; "and I have only two pounds five
+now."
+
+"What's the use in taking us at all if you fling us out on the street when
+we can hardly walk?" said the other woman. "I wish I had gone and drowned
+myself. I was very near doing it. If I had it would be all over now for me
+and the poor baby."
+
+"I'm used to all this ingratitude," said the matron. "You have got through
+your confinement very comfortably, and your baby is quite healthy; I hope
+you'll try and keep it so. Have you any money?"
+
+"Only four-and-sixpence."
+
+"Have you got any friends to whom you can go?"
+
+"No."
+
+"Then you'll have to apply for admission to the workhouse."
+
+The woman made no answer, and at that moment two sisters came and forcibly
+began to dress her. She fell back from time to time in their arms, almost
+fainting.
+
+"Lord, what a job!" said one sister; "she's just like so much lead in
+one's arms. But if we listened to them we should have them loafing here
+over a month more." Esther did not require much assistance, and the sister
+said, "Oh, you are as strong as they make 'em; you might have gone two
+days ago."
+
+"You're no better than brutes," Esther muttered. Then, turning to the
+matron, she said, "You promised to get me a situation as wet-nurse."
+
+"Yes, so I did, but the lady who I intended to recommend you to wrote this
+morning to say that she had suited herself."
+
+"But do you think you could get me a situation as wet-nurse?" said the
+other woman; "it would save me from going to the workhouse."
+
+"I really don't know what to do with you all; you all want to stop in the
+hospital at least a month, eating and drinking the best of everything, and
+then you want situations as wet-nurses at a pound a week."
+
+"But," said Esther, indignantly, "I never should have given my sister two
+pounds if you had not told me you could get me the situation."
+
+"I'm sorry," said the matron, "to have to send you away. I should like to
+have kept you, but really there is no help for it. As for the situation,
+I'll do the best I can. It is true that place I intended for you is filled
+up, but there will be another shortly, and you shall have the first. Give
+me your address. I shall not keep you long waiting, you can depend upon
+me. You are still very weak, I can see that. Would you like to have one of
+the nurses to walk round with you? You had better--you might fall and hurt
+the baby. My word, he is a fine boy."
+
+"Yes, he is a beautiful boy; it will break my heart to part with him."
+
+Some eight or nine poor girls stood outside, dressed alike in dingy
+garments. They were like half-dead flies trying to crawl through an
+October afternoon; and with their babies and a keen wind blowing, they
+found it difficult to hold on their hats.
+
+"It do catch you a bit rough, coming out of them 'ot rooms," said a woman
+standing by her. "I'm that weak I can 'ardly carry my baby. I dunno 'ow I
+shall get as far as the Edgware Road. I take my 'bus there. Are you going
+that way?"
+
+"No, I'm going close by, round the corner."
+
+
+
+
+XVIII
+
+
+Her hair hung about her, her hands and wrists were shrunken, her flesh was
+soft and flabby, and she had dark shadows in her face. Nursing her child
+seemed to draw all strength from her, and her nervous depression
+increased; she was too weary and ill to think of the future, and for a
+whole week her physical condition held her, to the exclusion of every
+other thought. Mrs. Jones was very kind, and only charged her ten
+shillings a week for her board and lodging, but this was a great deal when
+only two pounds five shillings remained between her and the workhouse, and
+this fact was brought home to her when Mrs. Jones came to her for the
+first week's money. Ten shillings gone; only one pound fifteen shillings
+left, and still she was so weak that she could hardly get up and down
+stairs. But if she were twice as weak, if she had to crawl along the
+street on her hands and knees, she must go to the hospital and implore the
+matron to get her a situation as wet-nurse. It was raining heavily, and
+Mrs. Jones said it was madness for her to go out in such weather, but go
+she must; and though it was distant only a few hundred yards, she often
+thought she would like to lie down and die. And at the hospital only
+disappointment. Why hadn't she called yesterday? Yesterday two ladies of
+title had come and taken two girls away. Such a chance might not occur for
+some time. "For some time," thought Esther; "very soon I shall have to
+apply for admission at the workhouse." She reminded the matron of her
+promise, and returned home more dead than alive. Mrs. Jones helped her to
+change her clothes, and bade her be of good heart. Esther looked at her
+hopelessly, and sitting down on the edge of her bed she put the baby to
+her breast.
+
+Another week passed. She had been to the hospital every day, but no one
+had been to inquire for a wet-nurse. Her money was reduced to a few
+shillings, and she tried to reconcile herself to the idea that she might
+do worse than to accept the harsh shelter of the workhouse. Her nature
+revolted against it; but she must do what was best for the child. She
+often asked herself how it would all end, and the more she thought, the
+more terrible did the future seem. Her miserable meditations were
+interrupted by a footstep on the stairs. It was Mrs. Jones, coming to tell
+her that a lady who wanted a wet-nurse had come from the hospital; and a
+lady entered dressed in a beautiful brown silk, and looked around the
+humble room, clearly shocked at its poverty. Esther, who was sitting on
+the bed, rose to meet the fine lady, a thin woman, with narrow temples,
+aquiline features, bright eyes, and a disagreeable voice.
+
+"You are the young person who wants a situation as wet-nurse?"
+
+"Yes, ma'am."
+
+"Are you married?"
+
+"No, ma'am."
+
+"Is that your first child?"
+
+"Yes, ma'am."
+
+"Ah, that's a pity. But it doesn't matter much, so long as you and your
+baby are healthy. Will you show it to me?"
+
+"He is asleep now, ma'am," Esther said, raising the bed-clothes; "there
+never was a healthier child."
+
+"Yes, he seems healthy enough. You have a good supply of milk?"
+
+"Yes, ma'am."
+
+"Fifteen shillings, and all found. Does that suit you?"
+
+"I had expected a pound a week."
+
+"It is only your first baby. Fifteen shillings is quite enough. Of course
+I only engage you subject to the doctor's approval. I'll ask him to call."
+
+"Very well, ma'am; I shall be glad of the place."
+
+"Then it is settled. You can come at once?"
+
+"I must arrange to put my baby out to nurse, ma'am."
+
+The lady's face clouded. But following up another train of thought, she
+said--
+
+"Of course you must arrange about your baby, and I hope you'll make proper
+arrangements. Tell the woman in whose charge you leave it that I shall
+want to see it every three weeks. It will be better so," she added under
+her breath, "for two have died already."
+
+"This is my card," said the lady--"Mrs. Rivers, Curzon Street,
+Mayfair--and I shall expect you to-morrow afternoon--that is to say, if
+the doctor approves of you. Here is one-and-sixpence for your cab fare."
+
+"Thank you, ma'am."
+
+"I shall expect you not later than four o'clock. I hope you won't
+disappoint me; remember my child is waiting."
+
+When Mrs. Rivers left, Esther consulted with Mrs. Jones. The difficulty
+was now where she should put the child out at nurse. It was now just after
+two o'clock. The baby was fast asleep, and would want nothing for three or
+four hours. It would be well for Esther to put on her hat and jacket and
+go off at once. Mrs. Jones gave her the address of a respectable woman who
+used to take charge of children. But this woman was nursing twins, and
+could not possibly undertake the charge of another baby. And Esther
+visited many streets, always failing for one reason or another. At last
+she found herself in Wandsworth, in a battered tumble-down little street,
+no thoroughfare, only four houses and a coal-shed. Broken wooden palings
+stood in front of the small area into which descent was made by means of a
+few wooden steps. The wall opposite seemed to be the back of some stables,
+and in the area of No. 3 three little mites were playing. The baby was
+tied in a chair, and a short fat woman came out of the kitchen at Esther's
+call, her dirty apron sloping over her high stomach, and her pale brown
+hair twisted into a knot at the top of her head.
+
+"Well, what is it?"
+
+"I came about putting a child out to nurse. You are Mrs. Spires, ain't
+yer?"
+
+"Yes, that's my name. May I ask who sent you?"
+
+Esther told her, and then Mrs. Spires asked her to step down into the
+kitchen.
+
+"Them 'ere children you saw in the area I looks after while their mothers
+are out washing or charing. They takes them 'ome in the evening. I only
+charges them four-pence a-day, and it is a loss at that, for they does
+take a lot of minding. What age is yours?"
+
+"Mine is only a month old. I've a chance to go out as wet-nurse if I can
+find a place to put him out at nurse. Will you look after my baby?"
+
+"How much do you think of paying for him?"
+
+"Five shillings a week."
+
+"And you a-going out as wet-nurse at a pound a week; you can afford more
+than that."
+
+"I'm only getting fifteen shillings a week."
+
+"Well, you can afford to pay six. I tell you the responsibility I of
+looking after a hinfant is that awful nowadays that I don't care to
+undertake it for less."
+
+Esther hesitated; she did not like this woman.
+
+"I suppose," said the woman, altering her tone to one of mild
+interrogation, "you would like your baby to have the best of everything,
+and not the drainings of any bottle that's handy?"
+
+"I should like my child to be well looked after, and I must see the child
+every three weeks."
+
+"Do you expect me to bring up the child to wherever the lady lives, and
+pay my 'bus fare, all out of five shillings a week? It can't be done!"
+Esther did not answer. "You ain't married, of course?" Mrs. Spires said
+suddenly.
+
+"No, I ain't; what about that?"
+
+"Oh, nothing; there is so many of you, that's all. You can't lay yer 'and
+on the father and get a bit out of 'im?"
+
+The conversation paused. Esther felt strangely undecided. She looked round
+suspiciously, and noticing the look the woman said--
+
+"Your baby will be well looked after 'ere; a nice warm kitchen, and I've
+no other babies for the moment; them children don't give no trouble, they
+plays in the area. You had better let me have the child; you won't do
+better than 'ere."
+
+Esther promised to think it over and let her know to-morrow. It took her
+many omnibuses to get home, and it was quite dark when she pushed the door
+to. The first thing that caught her ear was her child crying. "What is the
+matter?" she cried, hurrying down the passage.
+
+"Oh, is that you? You have been away a time. The poor child is that hungry
+he has been crying this hour or more. If I'd 'ad a bottle I'd 'ave given
+him a little milk."
+
+"Hungry, is he? Then he shall have plenty soon. It is nearly the last time
+I shall nurse the poor darling." Then she told Mrs. Jones about Mrs.
+Spires, and both women tried to arrive at a decision.
+
+"Since you have to put the child out to nurse, you might as well put him
+there as elsewhere; the woman will look after him as well as she
+can--she'll do that, if it is for the sake of the six shillings a week."
+
+"Yes, yes, I know; but I've always heard that children die that are put
+out to nurse. If mine died I never should forgive myself."
+
+She could not sleep; she lay with her arms about her baby, distracted at
+the thought of parting from him. What had she done that her baby should be
+separated from her? What had the poor little darling done? He at least was
+innocent; why should he be deprived of his mother? At midnight she got up
+and lighted a candle, looked at him, took him in her arms, squeezed him to
+her bosom till he cried, and the thought came that it would be sweeter to
+kill him with her own hands than to be parted from him.
+
+The thought of murder went with the night, and she enjoyed the journey to
+Wandsworth. Her baby laughed and cooed, and was much admired in the
+omnibus, and the little street where Mrs. Spires lived seemed different. A
+cart of hay was being unloaded, and this gave the place a pleasant rural
+air. Mrs. Spires, too, was cleaner, tidier; Esther no longer disliked her;
+she had a nice little cot ready for the baby, and he seemed so comfortable
+in it that Esther did not feel the pangs at parting which she had expected
+to feel. She would see him in a few weeks, and in those weeks she would be
+richer. It seemed quite wonderful to earn so much money in so short a
+time. She had had a great deal of bad luck, but her luck seemed to have
+turned at last. So engrossed was she in the consideration of her good
+fortune that she nearly forgot to get out of her 'bus at Charing Cross,
+and had it not been for the attention of the conductor might have gone on,
+she did not know where--perhaps to Clerkenwell, or may be to Islington.
+When the second 'bus turned into Oxford Street she got out, not wishing to
+spend more money than was necessary. Mrs. Jones approved of all she had
+done, helped her to pack up her box, and sent her away with many kind
+wishes to Curzon Street in a cab.
+
+Esther was full of the adventure and the golden prospect before her. She
+wondered if the house she was going to was as grand as Woodview, and she
+was struck by the appearance of the maidservant who opened the door to
+her.
+
+"Oh, here you are," Mrs. Rivers said. "I have been anxiously expecting
+you; my baby is not at all well. Come up to the nursery at once. I don't
+know your name," she said, turning to Esther.
+
+"Waters, ma'am."
+
+"Emily, you'll see that Waters' box is taken to her room."
+
+"I'll see to it, ma'am."
+
+"Then come up at once, Waters. I hope you'll succeed better than the
+others."
+
+A tall, handsome gentleman stood at the door of a room full of beautiful
+things, and as they went past him Mrs. Rivers said, "This is the new
+nurse, dear." Higher up, Esther saw a bedroom of soft hangings and bright
+porcelain. Then another staircase, and the little wail of a child caught
+on the ear, and Mrs. Rivers said, "The poor little thing; it never ceases
+crying. Take it, Waters, take it."
+
+Esther sat down, and soon the little thing ceased crying.
+
+"It seems to take to you," said the anxious mother.
+
+"So it seems," said Esther; "it is a wee thing, not half the size of my
+boy."
+
+"I hope the milk will suit it, and that it won't bring up what it takes.
+This is our last chance."
+
+"I daresay it will come round, ma'am. I suppose you weren't strong enough
+to nurse it yourself, and yet you looks healthy."
+
+"I? No, I could not undertake to nurse it." Then, glancing suspiciously at
+Esther, whose breast was like a little cup, Mrs. Rivers said, "I hope you
+have plenty of milk?"
+
+"Oh, yes, ma'am; they said at the hospital I could bring up twins."
+
+"Your supper will be ready at nine. But that will be a long time for you
+to wait. I told them to cut you some sandwiches, and you'll have a glass
+of porter. Or perhaps you'd prefer to wait till supper? You can have your
+supper, you know, at eight, if you like?"
+
+Esther took a sandwich and Mrs. Rivers poured out a glass of porter. And
+later in the evening Mrs. Rivers came down from her drawing-room to see
+that Esther's supper was all right, and not satisfied with the handsome
+fare that had been laid before her child's nurse, she went into the
+kitchen and gave strict orders that the meat for the future was not to be
+quite so much cooked.
+
+Henceforth it seemed to Esther that she was eating all day. The food was
+doubtless necessary after the great trial of the flesh she had been
+through, likewise pleasant after her long abstinences. She grew happy in
+the tide of new blood flowing in her veins, and might easily have
+abandoned herself in the seduction of these carnal influences. But her
+moral nature was of tough fibre, and made mute revolt. Such constant
+mealing did not seem natural, and the obtuse brain of this lowly
+servant-girl was perplexed. Her self-respect was wounded; she hated her
+position in this house, and sought consolation in the thought that she was
+earning good money for her baby. She noticed, too, that she never was
+allowed out alone, and that her walks were limited to just sufficient
+exercise to keep her in health.
+
+A fortnight passed, and one afternoon, after having put baby to sleep, she
+said to Mrs. Rivers, "I hope, ma'am, you'll be able to spare me for a
+couple of hours; baby won't want me before then. I'm very anxious about my
+little one."
+
+"Oh, nurse, I couldn't possibly hear of it; such a thing is never allowed.
+You can write to the woman, if you like."
+
+"I do not know how to write, ma'am."
+
+"Then you can get some one to write for you. But your baby is no doubt all
+right."
+
+"But, ma'am, you are uneasy about your baby; you are up in the nursery
+twenty times a day; it is only natural I should be uneasy about mine."
+
+"But, nurse, I've no one to send with you."
+
+"There is no reason why any one should go with me, ma'am; I can take care
+of myself."
+
+"What! let you go off all the way to--where did you say you had left
+it--Wandsworth?--by yourself! I really couldn't think of it. I don't want
+to be unnecessarily hard--but I really couldn't--no mother could. I must
+consider the interests of my child. But I don't want you to agitate
+yourself, and if you like I'll write myself to the woman who has charge of
+your baby. I cannot do more, and I hope you'll be satisfied."
+
+By what right, by what law, was she separated from her child? She was
+tired of hearing Mrs. Rivers speak of "my child, my child, my child," and
+of seeing this fine lady turn up her nose when she spoke of her own
+beautiful boy. When Mrs. Rivers came to engage her she had said that it
+would be better for the baby to be brought to see her every three or four
+weeks, for two had died already. At the time Esther had not understood.
+She had supposed vaguely, in a passing way, that Mrs. Rivers had already
+lost two children. But yesterday the housemaid had told her that that
+little thing in the cradle had had two wet-nurses before Esther, and that
+both babies had died. It was then a life for a life. It was more. The
+children of two poor girls had been sacrificed so that this rich woman's
+child might be saved. Even that was not enough, the life of her beautiful
+boy was called for. Then other memories swept into Esther's frenzied
+brain. She remembered vague hints, allusions that Mrs. Spires had thrown
+out; and as if in the obtuseness of a nightmare, it seemed to this
+ignorant girl that she was the victim of a dark and far-reaching
+conspiracy; she experienced the sensation of the captured animal, and she
+scanned the doors and windows, thinking of some means of escape.
+
+At that moment a knock was heard and the housemaid came in.
+
+"The woman who has charge of your baby has come to see you."
+
+Esther started up from her chair, and fat little Mrs. Spires waddled into
+the room, the ends of her shawl touching the ground.
+
+"Where is my baby?" said Esther. "Why haven't you brought him?"
+
+"Why, you see, my dear, the sweet little thing didn't seem as well as
+usual this afternoon, and I did not care to bring him out, it being a long
+way and a trifle cold.... It is nice and warm in here. May I sit down?"
+
+"Yes, there's a chair; but tell me what is the matter with him?"
+
+"A little cold, dear--nothing to speak of. You must not excite yourself,
+it isn't worth while; besides, it's bad for you and the little darling in
+the cradle. May I have a look?... A little girl, isn't it?"
+
+"Yes, it is a girl."
+
+"And a beautiful little girl too. 'Ow 'ealthy she do look! I'll be bound
+you have made a difference in her. I suppose you are beginning to like her
+just as if she was your own?"
+
+Esther did not answer.
+
+"Yer know, all you girls are dreadful taken with their babies at first.
+But they is a awful drag on a girl who gets her living in service. For my
+part I do think it providential-like that rich folk don't nurse their own.
+If they did, I dunno what would become of all you poor girls. The
+situation of wet-nurse is just what you wants at the time, and it is good
+money. I hope yer did what I told you and stuck out for a pound a week.
+Rich folk like these here would think nothing of a pound a week, nor yet
+two, when they sees their child is suited."
+
+"Never mind about my money, that's my affair. Tell me what's the matter
+with my baby?"
+
+"'Ow yer do 'arp on it! I've told yer that 'e's all right; nothing to
+signify, only a little poorly, but knowing you was that anxious I thought
+it better to come up. I didn't know but what you might like to 'ave in the
+doctor."
+
+"Does he require the doctor? I thought you said it was nothing to
+signify."
+
+"That depends on 'ow yer looks at it. Some likes to 'ave in the doctor,
+however little the ailing; then others won't 'ave anything to do with
+doctors--don't believe in them. So I thought I'd come up and see what you
+thought about it. I would 'ave sent for the doctor this morning--I'm one
+of those who 'as faith in doctors--but being a bit short of money I
+thought I'd come up and ask you for a trifle."
+
+At that moment Mrs. Rivers came into the nursery and her first look went
+in the direction of the cradle, then she turned to consider curtseying
+Mrs. Spires.
+
+"This is Mrs. Spires, the lady who is looking after my baby, ma'am," said
+Esther; "she has come with bad news--my baby is ill."
+
+"Oh, I'm sorry. But I daresay it is nothing."
+
+"But Mrs. Spires says, ma'am----"
+
+"Yes, ma'am, the little thing seemed a bit poorly, and I being short of
+money, ma'am, I had to come and see nurse. I knows right well that they
+must not be disturbed, and of course your child's 'ealth is everything;
+but if I may make so bold I'd like to say that the little dear do look
+beautiful. Nurse is bringing her up that well that yer must have every
+satisfaction in 'er."
+
+"Yes, she seems to suit the child; that's the reason I don't want her
+upset."
+
+"It won't occur again, ma'am, I promise you."
+
+Esther did not answer, and her white, sullen face remained unchanged. She
+had a great deal on her mind, and would have spoken if the words did not
+seem to betray her when she attempted to speak.
+
+"When the baby is well, and the doctor is satisfied there is no danger of
+infection, you can bring it here--once a month will be sufficient. Is
+there anything more?"
+
+"Mrs. Spires thinks my baby ought to see the doctor."
+
+"Well, let her send for the doctor."
+
+"Being a bit short of money----"
+
+"How much is it?" said Esther.
+
+"Well, what we pays is five shillings to the doctor, but then there's the
+medicine he will order, and I was going to speak to you about a piece of
+flannel; if yer could let me have ten shillings to go on with."
+
+"But I haven't so much left. I must see my baby," and Esther moved towards
+the door.
+
+"No, no, nurse, I cannot hear of it; I'd sooner pay the money myself. Now,
+how much do you want, Mrs. Spires?"
+
+"Ten shillings will do for the present, ma'am."
+
+"Here they are; let the child have every attendance, and remember you are
+not to come troubling my nurse. Above all, you are not to come up to the
+nursery. I don't know how it happened, it was a mistake on the part of the
+new housemaid. You must have my permission before you see my nurse." And
+while talking rapidly and imperatively Mrs. Rivers, as it were, drove Mrs.
+Spires out of the nursery. Esther could hear them talking on the
+staircase, and she listened, all the while striving to collect her
+thoughts. Mrs. Rivers said when she returned, "I really cannot allow her
+to come here upsetting you." Then, as if impressed by the sombre look on
+Esther's face, she added: "Upsetting you about nothing. I assure you it
+will be all right; only a little indisposition."
+
+"I must see my baby," Esther replied.
+
+"Come, nurse, you shall see your baby the moment the doctor says it is fit
+to come here. You can't expect me to do more than that." Esther did not
+move, and thinking that it would not be well to argue with her, Mrs.
+Rivers went over to the cradle. "See, nurse, the little darling has just
+woke up; come and take her, I'm sure she wants you."
+
+Esther did not answer her. She stood looking into space, and it seemed to
+Mrs. Rivers that it would be better not to provoke a scene. She went
+towards the door slowly, but a little cry from the cradle stopped her, and
+she said--
+
+"Come, nurse, what is it? Come, the baby is waiting for you."
+
+Then, like one waking from a dream, Esther said: "If my baby is all right,
+ma'am, I'll come back, but if he wants me, I'll have to look after him
+first."
+
+"You forget that I'm paying you fifteen shillings a week. I pay you for
+nursing my baby; you take my money, that's sufficient."
+
+"Yes, I do take your money, ma'am. But the housemaid has told me that you
+had two wet-nurses before me, and that both their babies died, so I cannot
+stop here now that mine's ill. Everyone for her own; you can't blame me.
+I'm sorry for yours--poor little thing, she was getting on nicely too."
+
+"But, Waters, you won't leave my baby. It's cruel of you. If I could nurse
+it myself----"
+
+"Why couldn't you, ma'am? You look fairly strong and healthy."
+
+Esther spoke in her quiet, stolid way, finding her words unconsciously.
+
+"You don't know what you're saying, nurse; you can't.... You've forgotten
+yourself. Next time I engage a nurse I'll try to get one who has lost her
+baby, and then there'll be no bother."
+
+"It is a life for a life--more than that, ma'am--two lives for a life; and
+now the life of my boy is asked for."
+
+A strange look passed over Mrs. Rivers' face. She knew, of course, that
+she stood well within the law, that she was doing no more than a hundred
+other fashionable women were doing at the same moment; but this plain girl
+had a plain way of putting things, and she did not care for it to be
+publicly known that the life of her child had been bought with the lives
+of two poor children. But her temper was getting the better of her.
+
+"He'll only be a drag on you. You'll never be able to bring him up, poor
+little bastard child."
+
+"It is wicked of you to speak like that, ma'am, though it is I who am
+saying it. It is none of the child's fault if he hasn't got a father, nor
+is it right that he should be deserted for that... and it is not for you
+to tell me to do such a thing. If you had made sacrifice of yourself in
+the beginning and nursed your own child such thoughts would not have come
+to you. But when you hire a poor girl such as me to give the milk that
+belongs to another to your child, you think nothing of the poor deserted
+one. He is but a bastard, you say, and had better be dead and done with. I
+see it all now; I have been thinking it out. It is all so hidden up that
+the meaning is not clear at first, but what it comes to is this, that fine
+folks like you pays the money, and Mrs. Spires and her like gets rid of
+the poor little things. Change the milk a few times, a little neglect, and
+the poor servant girl is spared the trouble of bringing up her baby and
+can make a handsome child of the rich woman's little starveling."
+
+At that moment the baby began to cry; both women looked in the direction
+of the cradle.
+
+"Nurse, you have utterly forgotten yourself, you have talked a great deal
+of nonsense, you have said a great deal that is untrue. You accused me of
+wishing your baby were dead, indeed I hardly know what wild remarks you
+did not indulge in. Of course, I cannot put up with such
+conduct--to-morrow you will come to me and apologise. In the meantime the
+baby wants you, are you not going to her?"
+
+"I'm going to my own child."
+
+"That means that you refuse to nurse my baby?"
+
+"Yes, I'm going straight to look after my own."
+
+"If you leave my house you shall never enter it again."
+
+"I don't want to enter it again."
+
+"I shall not pay you one shilling if you leave my baby. You have no
+money."
+
+"I shall try to manage without. I shall go with my baby to the workhouse.
+However bad the living may be there, he'll be with his mother."
+
+"If you go to-night my baby will die. She cannot be brought up on the
+bottle."
+
+"Oh, I hope not, ma'am. I should be sorry, indeed I should."
+
+"Then stay, nurse."
+
+"I must go to my baby, ma'am."
+
+"Then you shall go at once--this very instant."
+
+"I'm going this very instant, as soon as I've put on my hat and jacket."
+
+"You had better take your box with you. If you don't I'll shall have it
+thrown into the street."
+
+"I daresay you're cruel enough to do that if the law allows you, only be
+careful that it do."
+
+
+
+
+XIX
+
+
+The moment Esther got out of the house in Curzon Street she felt in her
+pocket for her money. She had only a few pence; enough for her 'bus fare,
+however, and her thoughts did not go further. She was absorbed by one
+desire, how to save her child--how to save him from Mrs. Spires, whom she
+vaguely suspected; from the world, which called him a bastard and denied
+to him the right to live. And she sat as if petrified in the corner of the
+'bus, seeing nothing but a little street of four houses, facing some
+haylofts, the low-pitched kitchen, the fat woman, the cradle in the
+corner. The intensity and the oneness of her desire seemed to annihilate
+time, and when she got out of the omnibus she walked with a sort of
+animal-like instinct straight for the house. There was a light in the
+kitchen just as she expected, and as she descended the four wooden steps
+into the area she looked to see if Mrs. Spires was there. She was there,
+and Esther pushed open the door.
+
+"Where's my baby?"
+
+"Lord, 'ow yer did frighten me!" said Mrs. Spires, turning from the range
+and leaning against the table, which was laid for supper. "Coming like
+that into other folk's places without a word of warning--without as much
+as knocking at the door."
+
+"I beg your pardon, but I was that anxious about my baby."
+
+"Was you indeed? It is easy to see it is the first one. There it is in the
+cradle there."
+
+"Have you sent for the doctor?"
+
+"Sent for the doctor! I've to get my husband's supper."
+
+Esther took her baby out of the cradle. It woke up crying, and Esther
+said, "You don't mind my sitting down a moment. The poor little thing
+wants its mother."
+
+"If Mrs. Rivers saw you now a-nursing of yer baby?"
+
+"I shouldn't care if she did. He's thinner than when I left him; ten days
+'ave made a difference in him."
+
+"Well, yer don't expect a child to do as well without its mother as with
+her. But tell me, how did yer get out? You must have come away shortly
+after me."
+
+"I wasn't going to stop there and my child ill."
+
+"Yer don't mean to tell me that yer 'ave gone and thrown hup the
+situation?"
+
+"She told me if I went out, I should never enter her door again."
+
+"And what did you say?"
+
+"Told her I didn't want to."
+
+"And what, may I ask, are yer thinking of doing? I 'eard yer say yer 'ad
+no money."
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"Take my advice, and go straight back and ask 'er to overlook it, this
+once."
+
+"Oh, no, she'd never take me back."
+
+"Yes, she will; you suits the child, and that's all they think of."
+
+"I don't know what will become of me and my baby."
+
+"No more don't I. Yer can't stop always in the work'us, and a baby'll be a
+'eavy drag on you. Can't you lay 'ands on 'is father, some'ow?"
+
+Esther shook her head, and Mrs. Spires noticed that she was crying.
+
+"I'm all alone," she said; "I don't know 'ow I'm ever to pull through."
+
+"Not with that child yer won't--it ain't possible.... You girls is all
+alike, yer thinks of nothing but yer babies for the first few weeks, then
+yer tires of them, the drag on yer is that 'eavy--I knows yer--and then
+yer begins to wish they 'ad never been born, or yer wishes they had died
+afore they knew they was alive. I don't say I'm not often sorry for them,
+poor little dears, but they takes less notice than you'd think for, and
+they is better out of the way; they really is, it saves a lot of trouble
+hereafter. I often do think that to neglect them, to let them go off
+quiet, that I be their best friend; not wilful neglect, yer know, but what
+is a woman to do with ten or a dozen, and I often 'as as many? I am sure
+they'd thank me for it."
+
+Esther did not answer, but judging by her face that she had lost all hope,
+Mrs. Spires was tempted to continue.
+
+"There's that other baby in the far corner, that was brought 'ere since
+you was 'ere by a servant-girl like yerself. She's out a'nursing of a
+lady's child, getting a pound a week, just as you was; well, now I asks
+'ow she can 'ope to bring up that 'ere child--a weakly little thing that
+wants the doctor and all sorts of looking after. If that child was to live
+it would be the ruin of that girl's life. Don't yer 'ear what I'm saying?"
+
+"Yes, I hear," said Esther, speaking like one in a dream; "don't she care
+for her baby, then?"
+
+"She used to care for them, but if they had all lived I should like to
+know where she'd be. There 'as been five of them--that's the fifth--so,
+instead of them a-costing 'er money, they brings 'er money. She 'as never
+failed yet to suit 'erself in a situation as wet-nurse."
+
+"And they all died?"
+
+"Yes, they all died; and this little one don't look as if it was long for
+the world, do it?" said Mrs. Spires, who had taken the infant from the
+cradle to show Esther. Esther looked at the poor wizened features,
+twitched with pain, and the far-off cry of doom, a tiny tinkle from the
+verge, shivered in the ear with a strange pathos.
+
+"It goes to my 'eart," said Mrs. Spires, "it do indeed, but, Lord, it is
+the best that could 'appen to 'em; who's to care for 'em? and there is
+'undreds and 'undreds of them--ay, thousands and thousands every year--and
+they all dies like the early shoots. It is 'ard, very 'ard, poor little
+dears, but they is best out of the way--they is only an expense and a
+disgrace."
+
+Mrs. Spires talked on in a rapid, soothing, soporific voice. She had just
+finished pouring some milk in the baby's bottle and had taken down a jug
+of water from the dresser.
+
+"But that's cold water," said Esther, waking from the stupor of her
+despair; "it will give the baby gripes for certain."
+
+"I've no 'ot water ready; I'll let the bottle stand afore the fire,
+that'll do as well." Watching Esther all the while, Mrs. Spires held the
+bottle a few moments before the fire, and then gave it to the child to
+suck. Very soon after a cry of pain came from the cradle.
+
+"The little dear never was well; it wouldn't surprise me a bit if it
+died--went off before morning. It do look that poorly. One can't 'elp
+being sorry for them, though one knows there is no 'ouse for them 'ere.
+Poor little angels, and not even baptised. There's them that thinks a lot
+of getting that over. But who's to baptise the little angels?"
+
+"Baptise them?" Esther repeated. "Oh, sprinkle them, you mean. That's not
+the way with the Lord's people;" and to escape from a too overpowering
+reality she continued to repeat the half-forgotten patter of the Brethren,
+"You must wait until it is a symbol of living faith in the Lord!" And
+taking the baby in her hands for a moment, the wonder crossed her mind
+whether he would ever grow up and find salvation and testify to the Lord
+as an adult in voluntary baptism.
+
+All the while Mrs. Spires was getting on with her cooking. Several times
+she looked as if she were going to speak, and several times she checked
+herself. In truth, she didn't know what to make of Esther. Was her love of
+her child such love as would enable her to put up with all hardships for
+its sake, or was it the fleeting affection of the ordinary young mother,
+which, though ardent at first, gives way under difficulties? Mrs. Spires
+had heard many mothers talk as Esther talked, but when the real strain of
+life was put upon them they had yielded to the temptation of ridding
+themselves of their burdens. So Mrs. Spires could not believe that Esther
+was really different from the others, and if carefully handled she would
+do what the others had done. Still, there was something in Esther which
+kept Mrs. Spires from making any distinct proposal. But it were a pity to
+let the girl slip through her fingers--five pounds were not picked up
+every day. There were three five-pound notes in the cradles. If Esther
+would listen to reason there would be twenty pounds, and the money was
+wanted badly. Once more greed set Mrs. Spires' tongue flowing, and,
+representing herself as a sort of guardian angel, she spoke again about
+the mother of the dying child, pressing Esther to think what the girl's
+circumstances would have been if they had all lived.
+
+"And they all died?" said Esther.
+
+"Yes, and a good job, too," said Mrs. Spires, whose temper for the moment
+outsped her discretion. Was this penniless drab doing it on purpose to
+annoy her? A nice one indeed to high-and-mighty it over her. She would
+show her in mighty quick time she had come to the wrong shop. Just as Mrs.
+Spires was about to speak out she noticed that Esther was in tears. Mrs.
+Spires always looked upon tears as a good sign, so she resolved to give
+her one more chance. "What are you crying about?" she said.
+
+"Oh," said Esther, "I don't even know where I shall sleep tonight. I have
+only threepence, and not a friend in the world."
+
+"Now look 'ere, if you'll listen to reason I'll talk to you. Yer mustn't
+look upon me as a henemy. I've been a good friend to many a poor girl like
+you afore now, and I'll be one to you if you're sensible. I'll do for you
+what I'm doing for the other girl. Give me five pounds--"
+
+"Five pounds! I've only a few pence."
+
+"'Ear me out. Go back to yer situation--she'll take you back, yer suits
+the child, that's all she cares about; ask 'er for an advance of five
+pounds; she'll give it when she 'ears it is to get rid of yer child--they
+'ates their nurses to be a-'ankering after their own, they likes them to
+be forgotten like; they asks if the child is dead very often, and won't
+engage them if it isn't, so believe me she'll give yer the money when yer
+tells 'er that it is to give the child to someone who wants to adopt it.
+That's what you 'as to say."
+
+"And you'll take the child off my hands for ever for five pounds?"
+
+"Yes; and if you likes to go out again as wet-nurse, I'll take the second
+off yer 'ands too, and at the same price."
+
+"You wicked woman; oh, this is awful!"
+
+"Come, come.... What do you mean by talking to me like that? And because I
+offered to find someone who would adopt your child."
+
+"You did nothing of the kind; ever since I've been in your house you have
+been trying to get me to give you up my child to murder as you are
+murdering those poor innocents in the cradles."
+
+"It is a lie, but I don't want no hargument with yer; pay me what you owe
+me and take yerself hoff. I want no more of yer, do you 'ear?"
+
+Esther did not shrink before her as Mrs. Spires expected. Clasping her
+baby more tightly, she said: "I've paid you what I owe you, you've had
+more than your due. Mrs. Rivers gave you ten shillings for a doctor which
+you didn't send for. Let me go."
+
+"Yes, when yer pays me."
+
+"What's all this row about?" said a tall, red-bearded man who had just
+come in; "no one takes their babies out of this 'ere 'ouse before they
+pays. Come now, come now, who are yer getting at? If yer thinks yer can
+come here insulting of my wife yer mistaken; yer've come to the wrong
+shop."
+
+"I've paid all I owe," said Esther. "You're no better than murderers, but
+yer shan't have my poor babe to murder for a five-pound note."
+
+"Take back them words, or else I'll do for yer; take them back," he said,
+raising his fist.
+
+"Help, help, murder!" Esther screamed. Before the brute could seize her
+she had slipped past, but before she could scream again he had laid hold
+of her. Esther thought her last moment had come.
+
+"Let 'er go, let 'er go," cried Mrs. Spires, clinging on her husband's
+arm. "We don't want the perlice in 'ere."
+
+"Perlice! What do I care about the perlice? Let 'er pay what she owes."
+
+"Never mind, Tom; it is only a trifle. Let her go. Now then, take yer
+hook," she said, turning to Esther; "we don't want nothing to do with such
+as you."
+
+With a growl the man loosed his hold, and feeling herself free Esther
+rushed through the open doorway. Her feet flew up the wooden steps and she
+ran out of the street. So shaken were her nerves that the sight of some
+men drinking in a public-house frightened her. She ran on again. There was
+a cab-stand in the next street, and to avoid the cabmen and the loafers
+she hastily crossed to the other side. Her heart beat violently, her
+thoughts were in disorder, and she walked a long while before she realised
+that she did not know where she was going. She stopped to ask the way, and
+then remembered there was no place where she might go.
+
+She would have to spend the night in the workhouse, and then?
+
+She did not know.... All sorts of thoughts came upon her unsolicited, and
+she walked on and on. At last she rested her burden on the parapet of a
+bridge, and saw the London night, blue and gold, vast water rolling, and
+the spectacle of the stars like a dream from which she could not
+disentangle her individuality. Was she to die in the star-lit city, she
+and her child; and why should such cruelty happen to her more than to the
+next one? Steadying her thoughts with an effort, she said, "Why not go to
+the workhouse, only for the night?... She did not mind for herself, only
+she did not wish her boy to go there. But if God willed it...."
+
+She drew her shawl about her baby and tried once more to persuade herself
+into accepting the shelter of the workhouse. It seemed strange even to her
+that a pale, glassy moon should float high up in the sky, and that she
+should suffer; and then she looked at the lights that fell like golden
+daggers from the Surrey shore into the river. What had she done to deserve
+the workhouse? Above all, what had the poor, innocent child done to
+deserve it? She felt that if she once entered the workhouse she would
+remain there. She and her child paupers for ever. "But what can I do?" she
+asked herself crazily, and sat down on one of the seats.
+
+A young man coming home from an evening party looked at her as he passed.
+She asked herself if she should run after him and tell him her story. Why
+should he not assist her? He could so easily spare it. Would he? But
+before she could decide to appeal to him he had called a passing hansom
+and was soon far away. Then looking at the windows of the great hotels,
+she thought of the folk there who could so easily save her from the
+workhouse if they knew. There must be many a kind heart behind those
+windows who would help her if she could only make known her trouble. But
+that was the difficulty. She could not make known her trouble; she could
+not tell the misery she was enduring. She was so ignorant; she could not
+make herself understood. She would be mistaken for a common beggar.
+Nowhere would she find anyone to listen to her. Was this punishment for
+her wrong-doing? An idea of the blind cruelty of fate maddened her, and in
+the delirium of her misery she asked herself if it would not have been
+better, perhaps, if she had left him with Mrs. Spires. What indeed had the
+poor little fellow to live for? A young man in evening dress came towards
+her, looking so happy and easy in life, walking with long, swinging
+strides. He stopped and asked her if she was out for a walk.
+
+"No, sir; I'm out because I've no place to go."
+
+"How's that?"
+
+She told him the story of the baby-farmer and he listened kindly, and she
+thought the necessary miracle was about to happen. But he only
+complimented her on her pluck and got up to go. Then she understood that
+he did not care to listen to sad stories, and a vagrant came and sat down.
+
+"The 'copper,'" he said, "will be moving us on presently. It don't much
+matter; it's too cold to get to sleep, and I think it will rain. My cough
+is that bad."
+
+She might beg a night's lodging of Mrs. Jones. It was far away; she did
+not think she could walk so far. Mrs. Jones might have left, then what
+would she do? The workhouse up there was much the same as the workhouse
+down here. Mrs. Jones couldn't keep her for nothing, and there was no use
+trying for another situation as wet-nurse; the hospital would not
+recommend her again.... She must go to the workhouse. Then her thoughts
+wandered. She thought of her father, brothers, and sisters, who had gone
+to Australia. She wondered if they had yet arrived, if they ever thought
+of her, if--She and her baby were on their way to the workhouse. They were
+going to become paupers. She looked at the vagrant--he had fallen asleep.
+He knew all about the workhouse--should she ask him what it was like? He,
+too, was friendless. If he had a friend he would not be sleeping on the
+Embankment. Should she ask him? Poor chap, he was asleep. People were
+happy when they were asleep.
+
+A full moon floated high up in the sky, and the city was no more than a
+faint shadow on the glassy stillness of the night; and she longed to float
+away with the moon and the river, to be borne away out of sight of this
+world.
+
+Her baby grew heavy in her arms, and the vagrant, a bundle of rags thrown
+forward in a heap, slept at the other end of the bench. But she could not
+sleep, and the moon whirled on her miserable way. Then the glassy
+stillness was broken by the measured tramp of the policeman going his
+rounds. He directed her to Lambeth Workhouse, and as she walked towards
+Westminster she heard him rousing the vagrant and bidding him move onward.
+
+
+
+
+XX
+
+
+Those who came to the workhouse for servants never offered more than
+fourteen pounds a year, and these wages would not pay for her baby's keep
+out at nurse. Her friend the matron did all she could, but it was always
+fourteen pounds. "We cannot afford more." At last an offer of sixteen
+pounds a year came from a tradesman in Chelsea; and the matron introduced
+Esther to Mrs. Lewis, a lonely widowed woman, who for five shillings a
+week would undertake to look after the child. This would leave Esther
+three pounds a year for dress; three pounds a year for herself.
+
+What luck!
+
+The shop was advantageously placed at a street corner. Twelve feet of
+fronting on the King's Road, and more than half that amount on the side
+street, exposed to every view wall papers and stained glass designs. The
+dwelling-house was over the shop; the shop entrance faced the kerb in the
+King's Road.
+
+The Bingleys were Dissenters. They were ugly, and exacted the uttermost
+farthing from their customers and their workpeople. Mrs. Bingley was a
+tall, gaunt woman, with little grey ringlets on either side of her face.
+She spoke in a sour, resolute voice, when she came down in a wrapper to
+superintend the cooking. On Sundays she wore a black satin, fastened with
+a cameo brooch, and round her neck a long gold chain. Then her manners
+were lofty, and when her husband called "Mother," she answered testily,
+"Don't keep on mothering me." She frequently stopped him to settle his
+necktie or collar. All the week he wore the same short jacket; on Sundays
+he appeared in an ill-fitting frock-coat. His long upper lip was clean
+shaven, but under his chin there grew a ring of discoloured hair, neither
+brown nor red, but the neutral tint that hair which does not turn grey
+acquires. When he spoke he opened his mouth wide, and seemed quite
+unashamed of the empty spaces and the three or four yellow fangs that
+remained.
+
+John, the elder of the two brothers, was a silent youth whose one passion
+seemed to be eavesdropping. He hung round doors in the hopes of
+overhearing his sisters' conversation and if he heard Esther and the
+little girl who helped Esther in her work talking in the kitchen, he would
+steal cautiously halfway down the stairs. Esther often thought that his
+young woman must be sadly in want of a sweetheart to take on with one such
+as he. "Come along, Amy," he would cry, passing out before her; and not
+even at the end of a long walk did he offer her his arm; and they came
+strolling home just like boy and girl.
+
+Hubert, John's younger brother, was quite different. He had escaped the
+family temperament, as he had escaped the family upper lip. He was the one
+spot of colour in a somewhat sombre household, and Esther liked to hear
+him call back to his mother, "All right, mother, I've got the key; no one
+need wait up for me. I'll make the door fast."
+
+"Oh, Hubert, don't be later than eleven. You are not going out dancing
+again, are you? Your father will have the electric bell put on the door,
+so that he may know when you come in."
+
+The four girls were all ruddy-complexioned and long upper-lipped. The
+eldest was the plainest; she kept her father's books, and made the pastry.
+The second and third entertained vague hopes of marriage. The youngest was
+subject to hysterics, fits of some kind.
+
+The Bingleys' own house was representative of their ideas, and the taste
+they had imposed upon the neighbourhood. The staircase was covered with
+white drugget, and the white enamelled walls had to be kept scrupulously
+clean. There were no flowers in the windows, but the springs of the blinds
+were always in perfect order. The drawing-room was furnished with
+substantial tables, cabinets and chairs, and antimacassars, long and wide,
+and china ornaments and glass vases. There was a piano, and on this
+instrument, every Sunday evening, hymns were played by one of the young
+ladies, and the entire family sang in the chorus.
+
+It was into this house that Esther entered as general servant, with wages
+fixed at sixteen pounds a year. And for seventeen long hours every day,
+for two hundred and thirty hours every fortnight, she washed, she
+scrubbed, she cooked, she ran errands, with never a moment that she might
+call her own. Every second Sunday she was allowed out for four, perhaps
+for four and a half hours; the time fixed was from three to nine, but she
+was expected to be back in time to get the supper ready, and if it were
+many minutes later than nine there were complaints.
+
+She had no money. Her quarter's wages would not be due for another
+fortnight, and as they did not coincide with her Sunday out, she would not
+see her baby for another three weeks. She had not seen him for a month,
+and a great longing was in her heart to clasp him in her arms again, to
+feel his soft cheek against hers, to take his chubby legs and warm, fat
+feet in her hands. The four lovely hours of liberty would slip by, she
+would enter on another long fortnight of slavery. But no matter, only to
+get them, however quickly they sped from her. She resigned herself to her
+fate, her soul rose in revolt, and it grew hourly more difficult for her
+to renounce this pleasure. She must pawn her dress--the only decent dress
+she had left. No matter, she must see the child. She would be able to get
+the dress out of pawn when she was paid her wages. Then she would have to
+buy herself a pair of boots; and she owed Mrs. Lewis a good deal of money.
+Five shillings a week came to thirteen pound a year, leaving her three
+pound a year for boots and clothes, journeys back and forward, and
+everything the baby might want. Oh, it was not to be done--she never would
+be able to pull through. She dare not pawn her dress; if she did she'd
+never be able to get it out again. At that moment something bright lying
+on the floor, under the basin-stand, caught her eye. It was half-a-crown.
+She looked at it, and as the temptation came into her heart to steal, she
+raised her eyes and looked round the room.
+
+She was in John's room--in the sneak's room. No one was about. She would
+have cut off one of her fingers for the coin. That half-crown meant
+pleasure and a happiness so tender and seductive that she closed her eyes
+for a moment. The half-crown she held between forefinger and thumb
+presented a ready solution of the besetting difficulty. She threw out the
+insidious temptation, but it came quickly upon her again. If she did not
+take the half-crown she would not be able to go Peckham on Sunday. She
+could replace the money where she found it when she was paid her wages. No
+one knew it was there; it had evidently rolled there, and having tumbled
+between the carpet and the wall had not been discovered. It had probably
+lain there for months, perhaps it was utterly forgotten. Besides, she need
+not take it now. It would be quite safe if she put it back in its place;
+on Sunday afternoon she would take it, and if she changed it at once--It
+was not marked. She examined it all over. No, it was not marked. Then the
+desire paused, and she wondered how she, an honest girl, who had never
+harboured a dishonest thought in her life before, could desire to steal; a
+bitter feeling of shame came upon her.
+
+It was a case of flying from temptation, and she left the room so
+hurriedly that John, who was spying in the passage, had not time either to
+slip downstairs or to hide in his brother's room. They met face to face.
+
+"Oh, I beg pardon, sir, but I found this half-crown in your room."
+
+"Well, there's nothing wonderful in that. What are you so agitated about?
+I suppose you intended to return it to me?"
+
+"Intended to return it! Of course."
+
+An expression of hate and contempt leaped into her handsome grey eyes,
+and, like a dog's, the red lip turned down. She suddenly understood that
+this pasty-faced, despicable chap had placed the coin where it might have
+accidentally rolled, where she would be likely to find it. He had
+complained that morning that she did not keep his room sufficiently clean!
+It was a carefully-laid plan, he was watching her all the while, and no
+doubt thought that it was his own indiscretion that had prevented her from
+falling into the snare. Without a word Esther dropped the half-crown at
+his feet and returned to her work; and all the time she remained in her
+present situation she persistently refused to speak to him; she brought
+him what he asked for, but never answered him, even with a Yes or No.
+
+It was during the few minutes' rest after dinner that the burden of the
+day pressed heaviest upon her; then a painful weariness grew into her
+limbs, and it seemed impossible to summon strength and will to beat
+carpets or sweep down the stairs. But if she were not moving about before
+the clock struck, Mrs. Bingley came down to the kitchen.
+
+"Now, Esther, is there nothing for you to do?"
+
+And again, about eight o'clock, she felt too tired to bear the weight of
+her own flesh. She had passed through fourteen hours of almost
+unintermittent toil, and it seemed to her that she would never be able to
+summon up sufficient courage to get through the last three hours. It was
+this last summit that taxed all her strength and all her will. Even the
+rest that awaited her at eleven o'clock was blighted by the knowledge of
+the day that was coming; and its cruel hours, long and lean and
+hollow-eyed, stared at her through the darkness. She was often too tired
+to rest, and rolled over and over in her miserable garret bed, her whole
+body aching. Toil crushed all that was human out of her; even her baby was
+growing indifferent to her. If it were to die! She did not desire her
+baby's death, but she could not forget what the baby-farmer had told
+her--the burden would not become lighter, it would become heavier and
+heavier. What would become of her? Was there no hope? She buried her face
+in her pillow, seeking to escape from the passion of her despair. She was
+an unfortunate girl, and had missed all her chances.
+
+In the six months she had spent in the house in Chelsea her nature had
+been strained to the uttermost, and what we call chance now came to decide
+the course of her destiny. The fight between circumstances and character
+had gone till now in favour of character, but circumstances must call up
+no further forces against character. A hair would turn the scale either
+way. One morning she was startled out of her sleep by a loud knocking at
+the door. It was Mrs. Bingley, who had come to ask her if she knew what
+time it was. It was nearly seven o'clock. But Mrs. Bingley could not blame
+her much, having herself forgotten to put on the electric bell, and Esther
+hurried through her dressing. But in hurrying she happened to tread on her
+dress, tearing it right across. It was most unfortunate, and just when she
+was most in a hurry. She held up the torn skirt. It was a poor, frayed,
+worn-out rag that would hardly bear mending again. Her mistress was
+calling her; there was nothing for it but to run down and tell her what
+had happened.
+
+"Haven't you got another dress that you can put on?"
+
+"No, ma'am."
+
+"Really, I can't have you going to the door in that thing. You don't do
+credit to my house; you must get yourself a new dress at once."
+
+Esther muttered that she had no money to buy one.
+
+"Then I don't know what you do with your money."
+
+"What I do with my wages is my affair; I've plenty of use for my money."
+
+"I cannot allow any servant of mine to speak to me like that."
+
+Esther did not answer, and Mrs. Bingley continued--
+
+"It is my duty to know what you do with your money, and to see that you do
+not spend it in any wrong way. I am responsible for your moral welfare."
+
+"Then, ma'am, I think I had better leave you."
+
+"Leave me, because I don't wish you to spend your money wrongfully,
+because I know the temptations that a young girl's life is beset with?"
+
+"There ain't much chance of temptation for them who work seventeen hours a
+day."
+
+"Esther, you seem to forget--"
+
+"No, ma'am; but there's no use talking about what I do with my
+money--there are other reasons; the place is too hard a one. I've felt it
+so for some time, ma'am. My health ain't equal to it."
+
+Once she had spoken, Esther showed no disposition to retract, and she
+steadily resisted all Mrs. Bingley's solicitations to remain with her. She
+knew the risk she was running in leaving her situation, and yet she felt
+she must yield to an instinct like that which impels the hunted animal to
+leave the cover and seek safety in the open country. Her whole body cried
+out for rest, she must have rest; that was the thing that must be. Mrs.
+Lewis would keep her and her baby for twelve shillings a week; the present
+was the Christmas quarter, and she was richer by five and twenty shillings
+than she had been before. Mrs. Bingley had given her ten shillings, Mr.
+Hubert five, and the other ten had been contributed by the four young
+ladies. Out of this money she hoped to be able to buy a dress and a pair
+of boots, as well as a fortnight's rest with Mrs. Lewis. She had
+determined on her plans some three weeks before her month's warning would
+expire, and henceforth the mountainous days of her servitude drew out
+interminably, seeming more than ever exhausting, and the longing in her
+heart to be free at times rose to her head, and her brain turned as if in
+delirium. Every time she sat down to a meal she remembered she was so many
+hours nearer to rest--a fortnight's rest--she could not afford more; but
+in her present slavery that fortnight seemed at once as a paradise and an
+eternity. Her only fear was that her health might give way, and that she
+would be laid up during the time she intended for rest--personal rest. Her
+baby was lost sight of. Even a mother demands something in return for her
+love, and in the last year Jackie had taken much and given nothing. But
+when she opened Mrs. Lewis's door he came running to her, calling her
+Mummie; and the immediate preference he showed for her, climbing on her
+knees instead of on Mrs. Lewis's, was a fresh sowing of love in the
+mother's heart.
+
+They were in the midst of those few days of sunny weather which come in
+January, deluding us so with their brightness and warmth that we look
+round for roses and are astonished to see the earth bare of flowers. And
+these bright afternoons Esther spent entirely with Jackie. At the top of
+the hill their way led through a narrow passage between a brick wall and a
+high paling. She had always to carry him through this passage, for the
+ground there was sloppy and dirty, and the child wanted to stop to watch
+the pigs through the chinks in the boards. But when they came to the
+smooth, wide, high roads overlooking the valley, she put him down, and he
+would run on ahead, crying, "Turn for a walk, Mummie, turn along," and his
+little feet went so quickly beneath his frock that it seemed as if he were
+on wheels. She followed, often forced to break into a run, tremulous lest
+he should fall. They descended the hill into the ornamental park, and
+spent happy hours amid geometrically-designed flower-beds and curving
+walks. She ventured with him as far as the old Dulwich village, and they
+strolled through the long street. Behind the street were low-lying,
+shiftless fields, intersected with broken hedges. And when Jackie called
+to his mother to carry him, she rejoiced in the labour of his weight; and
+when he grew too heavy, she rested on the farm-gate, and looked into the
+vague lowlands. And when the chill of night awoke her from her dream she
+clasped Jackie to her bosom and turned towards home, very soon to lose
+herself again in another tide of happiness.
+
+The evenings, too, were charming. When the candles were lighted, and tea
+was on the table, Esther sat with the dozing child on her knee, looking
+into the flickering fire, her mind a reverie, occasionally broken by the
+homely talk of her companion; and when the baby was laid in his cot she
+took up her sewing--she was making herself a new dress; or else the great
+kettle was steaming on the hob, and the women stood over the washing-tubs.
+On the following evening they worked on either side of the ironing-table,
+the candle burning brightly and their vague woman's chatter sounding
+pleasant in the hush of the little cottage. A little after nine they were
+in bed, and so the days went softly, like happy, trivial dreams. It was
+not till the end of the third week that Mrs. Lewis would hear of Esther
+looking out for another place. And then Esther was surprised at her good
+fortune. A friend of Mrs. Lewis's knew a servant who was leaving her
+situation in the West End of London. Esther got the address, and went next
+day after the place. She was fortunate enough to obtain it, and her
+mistress seemed well satisfied with her. But one day in the beginning of
+her second year of service she was told that her mistress wished to speak
+to her in the dining-room.
+
+"I fancy," said the cook, "that it is about that baby of yours; they're
+very strict here."
+
+Mrs. Trubner was sitting on a low wicker chair by the fire. She was a
+large woman with eagle features. Her eyesight had been failing for some
+years, and her maid was reading to her. The maid closed the book and left
+the room.
+
+"It has come to my knowledge, Waters, that you have a child. You're not a
+married woman, I believe?"
+
+"I've been unfortunate; I've a child, but that don't make no difference so
+long as I gives satisfaction in my work. I don't think that the cook has
+complained, ma'am."
+
+"No, the cook hasn't complained, but had I known this I don't think I
+should have engaged you. In the character which you showed me, Mrs.
+Barfield said that she believed you to be a thoroughly religious girl at
+heart."
+
+"And I hope I am that, ma'am. I'm truly sorry for my fault. I've suffered
+a great deal."
+
+"So you all say; but supposing it were to happen again, and in my house?
+Supposing----"
+
+"Then don't you think, ma'am, there is repentance and forgiveness? Our
+Lord said----"
+
+"You ought to have told me; and as for Mrs. Barfield, her conduct is most
+reprehensible."
+
+"Then, ma'am, would you prevent every poor girl who has had a misfortune
+from earning her bread? If they was all like you there would be more girls
+who'd do away with themselves and their babies. You don't know how hard
+pressed we are. The baby-farmer says, 'Give me five pounds and I'll find a
+good woman who wants a little one, and you shall hear no more about it.'
+Them very words were said to me. I took him away and hoped to be able to
+rear him, but if I'm to lose my situations----"
+
+"I should be sorry to prevent anyone from earning their bread----"
+
+"You're a mother yourself, ma'am, and you know what it is."
+
+"Really, it's quite different.... I don't know what you mean, Waters."
+
+"I mean that if I am to lose my situations on account of my baby, I don't
+know what will become of me. If I give satisfaction--"
+
+At that moment Mr. Trubner entered. He was a large, stout man, with his
+mother's aquiline features. He arrived with his glasses on his nose, and
+slightly out of breath.
+
+"Oh, oh, I didn't know, mother," he blurted out, and was about to withdraw
+when Mrs. Trubner said--
+
+"This is the new servant whom that lady in Sussex recommended."
+
+Esther saw a look of instinctive repulsion come over his face.
+
+"I'll leave you to settle with her, mother."
+
+"I must speak to you, Harold--I must."
+
+"I really can't; I know nothing of this matter."
+
+He tried to leave the room, and when his mother stopped him he said
+testily, "Well, what is it? I am very busy just now, and--" Mrs. Trubner
+told Esther to wait in the passage.
+
+"Well," said Mr. Trubner, "have you discharged her? I leave all these
+things to you."
+
+"She has told me her story; she is trying to bring up her child on her
+wages.... She said if she was kept from earning her bread she didn't know
+what would become of her. Her position is a very terrible one."
+
+"I know that.... But we can't have loose women about the place. They all
+can tell a fine story; the world is full of impostors."
+
+"I don't think the girl is an impostor."
+
+"Very likely not, but everyone has a right to protect themselves."
+
+"Don't speak so loud, Harold," said Mrs. Trubner, lowering her voice.
+"Remember her child is dependent upon her; if we send her away we don't
+know what may happen. I'll pay her a month's wages if you like, but you
+must take the responsibility."
+
+"I won't take any responsibility in the matter. If she had been here two
+years--she has only been here a year--not so much more--and had proved a
+satisfactory servant, I don't say that we'd be justified in sending her
+away.... There are plenty of good girls who want a situation as much as
+she. I don't see why we should harbour loose women when there are so many
+deserving cases."
+
+"Then you want me to send her away?"
+
+"I don't want to interfere; you ought to know how to act. Supposing the
+same thing were to happen again? My cousins, young men, coming to the
+house--"
+
+"But she won't see them."
+
+"Do as you like; it is your business, not mine. It doesn't matter to me,
+so long as I'm not interfered with; keep her if you like. You ought to
+have looked into her character more closely before you engaged her. I
+think that the lady who recommended her ought to be written to very
+sharply."
+
+They had forgotten to close the door, and Esther stood in the passage
+burning and choking with shame.
+
+"It is a strange thing that religion should make some people so
+unfeeling," Esther thought as she left Onslow Square.
+
+It was necessary to keep her child secret, and in her next situation she
+shunned intimacy with her fellow-servants, and was so strict in her
+conduct that she exposed herself to their sneers. She dreaded the remark
+that she always went out alone, and often arrived at the cottage
+breathless with fear and expectation--at a cottage where a little boy
+stood by a stout middle-aged woman, turning over the pages of the
+illustrated papers that his mother had brought him; she had no money to
+buy him toys. Dropping the Illustrated London News, he cried, "Here is
+Mummie," and ran to her with outstretched arms. Ah, what an embrace! Mrs.
+Lewis continued her sewing, and for an hour or more Esther told about her
+fellow-servants, about the people she lived with, the conversation
+interrupted by the child calling his mother's attention to the pictures,
+or by the delicate intrusion of his little hand into hers.
+
+Her clothes were her great difficulty, and she often thought that she
+would rather go back to the slavery of the house in Chelsea than bear the
+humiliation of going out any longer on Sunday in the old things that the
+servants had seen her in for eight or nine months or more. She was made to
+feel that she was the lowest of the low--the servant of servants. She had
+to accept everybody's sneer and everybody's bad language, and oftentimes
+gross familiarity, in order to avoid arguments and disputes which might
+endanger her situation. She had to shut her eyes to the thefts of cooks;
+she had to fetch them drink, and to do their work when they were unable to
+do it themselves. But there was no help for it. She could not pick and
+choose where she would live, and any wages above sixteen pound a year she
+must always accept, and put up with whatever inconvenience she might meet.
+
+Hers is an heroic adventure if one considers it--a mother's fight for the
+life of her child against all the forces that civilisation arrays against
+the lowly and the illegitimate. She is in a situation to-day, but on what
+security does she hold it? She is strangely dependent on her own health,
+and still more upon the fortunes and the personal caprice of her
+employers; and she realised the perils of her life when an outcast mother
+at the corner of the street, stretching out of her rags a brown hand and
+arm, asked alms for the sake of the little children. Esther remembered
+then that three months out of a situation and she too would be on the
+street as a flower-seller, match-seller, or----
+
+It did not seem, however, that any of these fears were to be realised. Her
+luck had mended; for nearly two years she had been living with some rich
+people in the West End; she liked her mistress and was on good terms with
+her fellow servants, and had it not been for an accident she could have
+kept this situation. The young gentlemen had come home for their summer
+holidays; she had stepped aside to let Master Harry pass on the stairs.
+But he did not go by, and there was a strange smile on his face.
+
+"Look here, Esther, I'm awfully fond of you. You are the prettiest girl
+I've ever seen. Come out for a walk with me next Sunday."
+
+"Master Harry, I'm surprised at you; will you let me go by at once?"
+
+There was no one near, the house was silent, and the boy stood on the step
+above her. He tried to throw his arm round her waist, but she shook him
+off and went up to her room calm with indignation. A few days afterward
+she suddenly became aware that he was following her in the street. She
+turned sharply upon him.
+
+"Master Harry, I know that this is only a little foolishness on your part,
+but if you don't leave off I shall lose my situation, and I'm sure you
+don't want to do me an injury."
+
+Master Harry seemed sorry, and he promised not to follow her in the street
+again. And never thinking that it was he who had written the letter she
+received a few days after, she asked Annie, the upper housemaid, to read
+it. It contained reference to meetings and unalterable affection, and it
+concluded with a promise to marry her if she lost her situation through
+his fault. Esther listened like one stunned. A schoolboy's folly, the
+first silly sentimentality of a boy, a thing lighter than the lightest
+leaf that falls, had brought disaster upon her.
+
+If Annie had not seen the letter she might have been able to get the boy
+to listen to reason; but Annie had seen the letter, and Annie could not be
+trusted. The story would be sure to come out, and then she would lose her
+character as well as her situation. It was a great pity. Her mistress had
+promised to have her taught cooking at South Kensington, and a cook's
+wages would secure her and her child against all ordinary accidents. She
+would never get such a chance again, and would remain a kitchen-maid to
+the end of her days. And acting on the impulse of the moment she went
+straight to the drawing-room. Her mistress was alone, and Esther handed
+her the letter. "I thought you had better see this at once, ma'am. I did
+not want you to think it was my fault. Of course the young gentleman means
+no harm."
+
+"Has anyone seen this letter?"
+
+"I showed it to Annie. I'm no scholar myself, and the writing was
+difficult."
+
+"You have no reason for supposing----How often did Master Harry speak to
+you in this way?"
+
+"Only twice, ma'am."
+
+"Of course it is only a little foolishness. I needn't say that he doesn't
+mean what he says."
+
+"I told him, ma'am, that if he continued I should lose my situation."
+
+"I'm sorry to part with you, Esther, but I really think that the best way
+will be for you to leave. I am much obliged to you for showing me this
+letter. Master Harry, you see, says that he is going away to the country
+for a week. He left this morning. So I really think that a month's wages
+will settle matters nicely. You are an excellent servant, and I shall be
+glad to recommend you."
+
+Then Esther heard her mistress mutter something about the danger of
+good-looking servants. And Esther was paid a month's wages, and left that
+afternoon.
+
+
+
+
+XXI
+
+
+It was the beginning of August, and London yawned in every street; the
+dust blew unslaked, and a little cloud curled and disappeared over the
+crest of the hill at Hyde Park Corner; the streets and St. George's Place
+looked out with blind, white eyes; and in the deserted Park the trees
+tossed their foliage restlessly, as if they wearied and missed the fashion
+of their season. And all through Park Lane and Mayfair, caretakers and
+gaunt cats were the traces that the caste on which Esther depended had
+left of its departed presence. She was coming from the Alexandra Hotel,
+where she had heard a kitchen-maid was wanted. Mrs. Lewis had urged her to
+wait until people began to come back to town. Good situations were rarely
+obtainable in the summer months; it would be bad policy to take a bad one,
+even if it were only for a while. Besides, she had saved a little money,
+and, feeling that she required a rest, had determined to take this advice.
+But as luck would have it Jackie fell ill before she had been at Dulwich a
+week. His illness made a big hole in her savings, and it had become
+evident that she would have to set to work and at once.
+
+She turned into the park. She was going north, to a registry office near
+Oxford Street, which Mrs. Lewis had recommended. Holborn Row was difficult
+to find, and she had to ask the way very often, but she suddenly knew that
+she was in the right street by the number of servant-girls going and
+coming from the office, and in company with five others Esther ascended a
+gloomy little staircase. The office was on the first floor. The doors were
+open, and they passed into a special odour of poverty, as it were, into an
+atmosphere of mean interests.
+
+Benches covered with red plush were on either side, and these were
+occupied by fifteen or twenty poorly-dressed women. A little old woman,
+very white and pale, stood near the window recounting her misfortunes to
+no one in particular.
+
+"I lived with her more than thirty years; I brought up all the children. I
+entered her service as nurse, and when the children grew up I was given
+the management of everything. For the last fifteen years my mistress was a
+confirmed invalid. She entrusted everything to me. Oftentimes she took my
+hand and said, 'You are a good creature, Holmes, you mustn't think of
+leaving me; how should I get on without you?' But when she died they had
+to part with me; they said they were very sorry, and wouldn't have thought
+of doing so, only they were afraid I was getting too old for the work. I
+daresay I was wrong to stop so long in one situation. I shouldn't have
+done so, but she always used to say, 'You mustn't leave us; we never shall
+be able to get on without you.'"
+
+At that moment the secretary, an alert young woman with a decisive voice,
+came through the folding doors.
+
+"I will not have all this talking," she said. Her quick eyes fell on the
+little old woman, and she came forward a few steps. "What, you here again,
+Miss Holmes? I've told you that when I hear of anything that will suit you
+I'll write."
+
+"So you said, Miss, but my little savings are running short. I'm being
+pressed for my rent."
+
+"I can't help that; when I hear of anything I'll write. But I can't have
+you coming here every third day wasting my time; now run along." And
+having made casual remarks about the absurdity of people of that age
+coming after situations, she called three or four women to her desk, of
+whom Esther was one. She examined them critically, and seemed especially
+satisfied with Esther's appearance.
+
+"It will be difficult," she said, "to find you the situation you want
+before people begin to return to town. If you were only an inch or two
+taller I could get you a dozen places as housemaid; tall servants are all
+the fashion, and you are the right age--about five-and-twenty."
+
+Esther left a dozen stamps with her, and soon after she began to receive
+letters containing the addresses of ladies who required servants. They
+were of all sorts, for the secretary seemed to exercise hardly any
+discrimination, and Esther was sent on long journeys from Brixton to
+Notting Hill to visit poor people who could hardly afford a
+maid-of-all-work. These useless journeys were very fatiguing. Sometimes
+she was asked to call at a house in Bayswater, and thence she had to go to
+High Street, Kensington, or Earl's Court; a third address might be in
+Chelsea. She could only guess which was the best chance, and while she was
+hesitating the situation might be given away. Very often the ladies were
+out, and she was asked to call later in the day. These casual hours she
+spent in the parks, mending Jackie's socks or hemming pocket
+handkerchiefs, so she was frequently delayed till evening; and in the
+mildness of the summer twilight, with some fresh disappointment lying
+heavy on her heart, she made her way from the Marble Arch round the barren
+Serpentine into Piccadilly, with its stream of light beginning in the
+sunset.
+
+And standing at the kerb of Piccadilly Circus, waiting for a 'bus to take
+her to Ludgate Hill Station, the girl grew conscious of the moving
+multitude that filled the streets. The great restaurants rose up calm and
+violet in the evening sky, the Café Monico, with its air of French
+newspapers and Italian wines; and before the grey façade of the
+fashionable Criterion hansoms stopped and dinner parties walked across the
+pavement. The fine weather had brought the women up earlier than usual
+from the suburbs. They came up the long road from Fulham, with white
+dresses floating from their hips, and feather boas waving a few inches
+from the pavement. But through this elegant disguise Esther could pick out
+the servant-girls. Their stories were her story. They had been deserted,
+as she had been; and perhaps each had a child to support, only they had
+not been so lucky as she had been in finding situations.
+
+But now luck seemed to have deserted her. It was the middle of September
+and she had not yet been able to find the situation she wanted; and it had
+become more and more distressing to her to refuse sixteen pound a year.
+She had calculated it all out, and nothing less than eighteen pound was of
+any use to her. With eighteen pound and a kind mistress who would give her
+an old dress occasionally she could do very well. But if she didn't find
+these two pounds she did not know what she should do. She might drag on
+for a time on sixteen pound, but such wages would drive her in the end
+into the workhouse. If it were not for the child! But she would never
+desert her darling boy, who loved her so dearly, come what might. A sudden
+imagination let her see him playing in the little street, waiting for her
+to come home, and her love for him went to her head like madness. She
+wondered at herself; it seemed almost unnatural to love anything as she
+did this child.
+
+Then, in a shiver of fear, determined to save her 'bus fare, she made her
+way through Leicester Square. She was a good-looking girl, who hastened
+her steps when addressed by a passer-by or crossed the roadway in sullen
+indignation, and who looked in contempt on the silks and satins which
+turned into the Empire, and she seemed to lose heart utterly. She had been
+walking all day and had not tasted food since the morning, and the
+weakness of the flesh brought a sudden weakness of the spirit. She felt
+that she could struggle no more, that the whole world was against her--she
+felt that she must have food and drink and rest. All this London tempted
+her, and the cup was at her lips. A young man in evening clothes had
+spoken to her. His voice was soft, the look in his eyes seemed kindly.
+
+Thinking of the circumstances ten minutes later it seemed to her that she
+had intended to answer him. But she was now at Charing Cross. There was a
+lightness, an emptiness in her head which she could not overcome, and the
+crowd appeared to her like a blurred, noisy dream. And then the dizziness
+left her, and she realised the temptation she had escaped. Here, as in
+Piccadilly, she could pick out the servant girls; but here their service
+was yesterday's lodging-house--poor and dissipated girls, dressed in vague
+clothes fixed with hazardous pins. Two young women strolled in front of
+her. They hung on each other's arms, talking lazily. They had just come
+out of an eating-house, and a happy digestion was in their eyes. The skirt
+on the outside was a soiled mauve, and the bodice that went with it was a
+soiled chocolate. A broken yellow plume hung out of a battered hat. The
+skirt on the inside was a dim green, and little was left of the cotton
+velvet jacket but the cotton. A girl of sixteen walking sturdily, like a
+little man, crossed the road, her left hand thrust deep into the pocket of
+her red cashmere dress. She wore on her shoulders a strip of beaded
+mantle; her hair was plaited and tied with a red ribbon. Corpulent women
+passed, their eyes liquid with invitation; and the huge bar-loafer, the
+man of fifty, the hooked nose and the waxed moustache, stood at the door
+of a restaurant, passing the women in review.
+
+A true London of the water's edge--a London of theatres, music-halls,
+wine-shops, public-houses--the walls painted various colours, nailed over
+with huge gold lettering; the pale air woven with delicate wire, a
+gossamer web underneath which the crowd moved like lazy flies, one half
+watching the perforated spire of St. Mary's, and all the City spires
+behind it now growing cold in the east, the other half seeing the spire of
+St. Martin's above the chimney-pots aloft in a sky of cream pink. Stalwart
+policemen urged along groups of slattern boys and girls; and after vulgar
+remonstrance these took the hint and disappeared down strange passages.
+Suddenly Esther came face to face with a woman whom she recognised as
+Margaret Gale.
+
+"What, is it you, Margaret?"
+
+"Yes, it is me all right. What are you doing up here? Got tired of
+service? Come and have a drink, old gal."
+
+"No, thank you; I'm glad to have seen you, Margaret, but I've a train to
+catch."
+
+"That won't do," said Margaret, catching her by the arm; "we must have a
+drink and a talk over old times."
+
+Esther felt that if she did not have something she would faint before she
+reached Ludgate Hill, and Margaret led the way through the public-house,
+opening all the varnished doors, seeking a quiet corner. "What's the
+matter?" she said, startled at the pallor of Esther's face.
+
+"Only a little faintness; I've not had anything to eat all day."
+
+"Quick, quick, four of brandy and some water," Margaret cried to the
+barman, and a moment after she was holding the glass to her friend's lips.
+"Not had anything to eat all day, dear? Then we'll have a bite and a sup
+together. I feel a bit peckish myself. Two sausages and two rolls and
+butter," she cried. Then the women had a long talk. Margaret told Esther
+the story of her misfortune.
+
+The Barfields were all broken up. They had been very unlucky racing, and
+when the servants got the sack Margaret had come up to London. She had
+been in several situations. Eventually, one of her masters had got her
+into trouble, his wife had turned her out neck and crop, and what was she
+to do? Then Esther told how Master Harry had lost her her situation.
+
+"And you left like that? Well I never! The better one behaves the worse
+one gets treated, and them that goes on with service find themselves in
+the end without as much as will buy them a Sunday dinner."
+
+Margaret insisted on accompanying Esther, and they walked together as far
+as Wellington Street. "I can't go any further," and pointing to where
+London seemed to end in a piece of desolate sky, she said, "I live on the
+other side, in Stamford Street. You might come and see me. If you ever get
+tired of service you'll get decent rooms there."
+
+Bad weather followed fine, and under a streaming umbrella Esther went from
+one address to another, her damp skirts clinging about her and her boots
+clogged with mud. She looked upon the change in the weather as
+unfortunate, for in getting a situation so much depended on personal
+appearance and cheerfulness of manner; and it is difficult to seem a right
+and tidy girl after two miles' walk through the rain.
+
+One lady told Esther that she liked tall servants, another said she never
+engaged good-looking girls, and another place that would have suited her
+was lost through unconsciously answering that she was chapel. The lady
+would have nothing in her house but church. Then there were the
+disappointments occasioned by the letters which she received from people
+who she thought would have engaged her, saying they were sorry, but that
+they had seen some one whom they liked better.
+
+Another week passed and Esther had to pawn her clothes to get money for
+her train fare to London, and to keep the registry office supplied with
+stamps. Her prospects had begun to seem quite hopeless, and she lay awake
+thinking that she and Jackie must go back to the workhouse. They could not
+stop on at Mrs. Lewis's much longer. Mrs. Lewis had been very good to
+them, but Esther owed her two weeks' money. What was to be done? She had
+heard of charitable institutions, but she was an ignorant girl and did not
+know how to make the necessary inquiries. Oh, the want of a little
+money--of a very little money; the thought beat into her brain. For just
+enough to hold on till the people came back to town.
+
+One day Mrs. Lewis, who read the newspapers for her, came to her with an
+advertisement which she said seemed to read like a very likely chance.
+Esther looked at the pence which remained out of the last dress that she
+had pawned.
+
+"I'm afraid," she said, "it will turn out like the others; I'm out of my
+luck."
+
+"Don't say that," said Mrs. Lewis; "keep your courage up; I'll stick to
+you as long as I can."
+
+The women had a good cry in each other's arms, and then Mrs. Lewis advised
+Esther to take the situation, even if it were no more than sixteen. "A lot
+can be done by constant saving, and if she gives yer 'er dresses and ten
+shillings for a Christmas-box, I don't see why you should not pull
+through. The baby shan't cost you more than five shillings a week till you
+get a situation as plain cook. Here is the address--Miss Rice, Avondale
+Road, West Kensington."
+
+
+
+
+XXII
+
+
+Avondale Road was an obscure corner of the suburb--obscure, for it had
+just sprung into existence. The scaffolding that had built it now littered
+an adjoining field, where in a few months it would rise about Horsely
+Gardens, whose red gables and tiled upper walls will correspond
+unfailingly with those of Avondale Road. Nowhere in this neighbourhood
+could Esther detect signs of eighteen pounds a year. Scanning the Venetian
+blinds of the single drawing-room window, she said to herself, "Hot joint
+today, cold the next." She noted the trim iron railings and the spare
+shrubs, and raising her eyes she saw the tiny gable windows of the
+cupboard-like rooms where the single servant kept in these houses slept.
+
+A few steps more brought her to 41, the corner house. The thin passage and
+the meagre staircase confirmed Esther in the impression she had received
+from the aspect of the street; and she felt that the place was more
+suitable to the gaunt woman with iron-grey hair who waited in the passage.
+This woman looked apprehensively at Esther, and when Esther said that she
+had come after the place a painful change of expression passed over her
+face, and she said--
+
+"You'll get it; I'm too old for anything but charing. How much are you
+going to ask?"
+
+"I can't take less than sixteen."
+
+"Sixteen! I used to get that once; I'd be glad enough to get twelve now.
+You can't think of sixteen once you've turned forty, and I've lost my
+teeth, and they means a couple of pound off."
+
+Then the door opened, and a woman's voice called to the gaunt woman to
+come in. She went in, and Esther breathed a prayer that she might not be
+engaged. A minute intervened, and the gaunt woman came out; there were
+tears in her eyes, and she whispered to Esther as she passed, "No good; I
+told you so. I'm too old for anything but charing." The abruptness of the
+interview suggested a hard mistress, and Esther was surprised to find
+herself in the presence of a slim lady, about seven-and-thirty, whose
+small grey eyes seemed to express a kind and gentle nature. As she stood
+speaking to her, Esther saw a tall glass filled with chrysanthemums and a
+large writing-table covered with books and papers. There was a bookcase,
+and in place of the usual folding-doors, a bead curtain hung between the
+rooms.
+
+The room almost said that the occupant was a spinster and a writer, and
+Esther remembered that she had noticed even at the time Miss Rice's
+manuscript, it was such a beautiful clear round hand, and it lay on the
+table, ready to be continued the moment she should have settled with her.
+
+"I saw your advertisement in the paper, miss; I've come after the
+situation."
+
+"You are used to service?"
+
+"Yes, miss, I've had several situations in gentlemen's families, and have
+excellent characters from them all." Then Esther related the story of her
+situations, and Miss Rice put up her glasses and her grey eyes smiled. She
+seemed pleased with the somewhat rugged but pleasant-featured girl before
+her.
+
+"I live alone," she said; "the place is an easy one, and if the wages
+satisfy you, I think you will suit me very well. My servant, who has been
+with me some years, is leaving me to be married."
+
+"What are the wages, miss?"
+
+"Fourteen pounds a year."
+
+"I'm afraid, miss, there would be no use my taking the place; I've so many
+calls on my money that I could not manage on fourteen pounds. I'm very
+sorry, for I feel sure I should like to live with you, miss."
+
+But what was the good of taking the place? She could not possibly manage
+on fourteen, even if Miss Rice did give her a dress occasionally, and that
+didn't look likely. All her strength seemed to give way under her
+misfortune, and it was with difficulty that she restrained her tears.
+
+"I think we should suit each other," Miss Rice said reflectively.
+
+"I should like to have you for my servant if I could afford it. How much
+would you take?"
+
+"Situated, as I am, miss, I could not take less than sixteen. I've been
+used to eighteen."
+
+"Sixteen pounds is more than I can afford, but I'll think it over. Give me
+your name and address."
+
+"Esther Waters, 13 Poplar Road, Dulwich."
+
+As Esther turned to go she became aware of the kindness of the eyes that
+looked at her. Miss Rice said--
+
+"I'm afraid you're in trouble.... Sit down; tell me about it."
+
+"No, miss, what's the use?" But Miss Rice looked at her so kindly that
+Esther could not restrain herself. "There's nothing for it," she said,
+"but to go back to the workhouse."
+
+"But why should you go to the workhouse? I offer you fourteen pounds a
+year and everything found."
+
+"You see, miss, I've a baby; we've been in the workhouse already; I had to
+go there the night I left my situation, to get him away from Mrs. Spires;
+she wanted to kill him; she'd have done it for five pounds--that's the
+price. But, miss, my story is not one that can be told to a lady such as
+you."
+
+"I think I'm old enough to listen to your story; sit down, and tell it to
+me."
+
+And all the while Miss Rice's eyes were filled with tenderness and pity.
+
+"A very sad story--just such a story as happens every day. But you have
+been punished, you have indeed."
+
+"Yes, miss, I think I have; and after all these years of striving it is
+hard to have to take him back to the workhouse. Not that I want to give
+out that I was badly treated there, but it is the child I'm thinking of.
+He was then a little baby and it didn't matter; we was only there a few
+months. There's no one that knows of it but me. But he's a growing boy
+now, he'll remember the workhouse, and it will be always a disgrace."
+
+"How old is he?"
+
+"He was six last May, miss. It has been a hard job to bring him up. I now
+pay six shillings a week for him, that's more than fourteen pounds a year,
+and you can't do much in the way of clothes on two pounds a year. And now
+that he's growing up he's costing more than ever; but Mrs. Lewis--that's
+the woman what has brought him up--is as fond of him as I am myself. She
+don't want to make nothing out of his keep, and that's how I've managed up
+to the present. But I see well enough that it can't be done; his expense
+increases, and the wages remains the same. It was my pride to bring him up
+on my earnings, and my hope to see him an honest man earning good money.
+But it wasn't to be, miss, it wasn't to be. We must be humble and go back
+to the workhouse."
+
+"I can see that it has been a hard fight."
+
+"It has indeed, miss; no one will ever know how hard. I shouldn't mind if
+it wasn't going to end by going back to where it started.... They'll take
+him from me; I shall never see him while he is there. I wish I was dead,
+miss, I can't bear my trouble no longer."
+
+"You shan't go back to the workhouse so long as I can help you. Esther,
+I'll give you the wages you ask for. It is more than I can afford.
+Eighteen pounds a year! But your child shall not be taken from you. You
+shall not go to the workhouse. There aren't many such good women in the
+world as you, Esther."
+
+
+
+
+XXIII
+
+
+From the first Miss Rice was interested in her servant, and encouraged her
+confidences. But it was some time before either was able to put aside her
+natural reserve. They were not unlike--quiet, instinctive Englishwomen,
+strong, warm natures, under an appearance of formality and reserve.
+
+The instincts of the watch-dog soon began to develop in Esther, and she
+extended her supervision over all the household expenses, likewise over
+her mistress's health.
+
+"Now, miss, I must 'ave you take your soup while it is 'ot. You'd better
+put away your writing; you've been at it all the morning. You'll make
+yourself ill, and then I shall have the nursing of you." If Miss Rice were
+going out in the evening she would find herself stopped in the passage.
+"Now, miss, I really can't see you go out like that; you'll catch your
+death of cold. You must put on your warm cloak."
+
+Miss Rice's friends were principally middle-aged ladies. Her sisters,
+large, stout women, used to come and see her, and there was a
+fashionably-dressed young man whom her mistress seemed to like very much.
+Mr. Alden was his name, and Miss Rice told Esther that he, too, wrote
+novels; they used to talk about each other's books for hours, and Esther
+feared that Miss Rice was giving her heart away to one who did not care
+for her. But perhaps she was satisfied to see Mr. Alden once a week and
+talk for an hour with him about books. Esther didn't think she'd care, if
+she had a young man, to see him come and go like a shadow. But she hadn't
+a young man, and did not want one. All she now wanted was to awake in the
+morning and know that her child was safe; her ambition was to make her
+mistress's life comfortable. And for more than a year she pursued her plan
+of life unswervingly. She declined an offer of marriage, and was rarely
+persuaded into a promise to walk out with any of her admirers. One of
+these was a stationer's foreman, and almost every day Esther went to the
+stationer's for the sermon paper on which her mistress wrote her novels,
+for blotting-paper, for stamps, to post letters--that shop seemed the
+centre of their lives.
+
+Fred Parsons--that was his name--was a meagre little man about
+thirty-five. A high and prominent forehead rose above a small pointed
+face, and a scanty growth of blonde beard and moustache did not conceal
+the receding chin nor the red sealing-wax lips. His faded yellow hair was
+beginning to grow thin, and his threadbare frock-coat hung limp from
+sloping shoulders. But these disadvantages were compensated by a clear
+bell-like voice, into which no trace of doubt ever seemed to come; and his
+mind was neatly packed with a few religious and political ideas. He had
+been in business in the West End, but an uncontrollable desire to ask
+every customer who entered into conversation with him if he were sure that
+he believed in the second coming of Christ had been the cause of severance
+between him and his employers.
+
+He had been at West Kensington a fortnight, had served Esther once with
+sermon paper, and had already begun to wonder what were her religious
+beliefs. But bearing in mind his recent dismissal, he refrained for the
+present. At the end of the week they were alone in the shop. Esther had
+come for a packet of note-paper. Fred was sorry she had not come for
+sermon paper; if she had it would have been easier to inquire her opinions
+regarding the second coming. But the opportunity, such as it was, was not
+to be resisted. He said--
+
+"Your mistress seems to use a great deal of paper; it was only a day or
+two ago that I served you with four quires."
+
+"That was for her books; what she now wants is note-paper."
+
+"So your mistress writes books!"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"I hope they're good books--books that are helpful." He paused to see that
+no one was within earshot. "Books that bring sinners back to the Lord."
+
+"I don't know what she writes; I only know she writes books; I think I've
+heard she writes novels."
+
+Fred did not approve of novels--Esther could see that--and she was sorry;
+for he seemed a nice, clear-spoken young man, and she would have liked to
+tell him that her mistress was the last person who would write anything
+that could do harm to anyone. But her mistress was waiting for her paper,
+and she took leave of him hastily. The next time they met was in the
+evening. She was going to see if she could get some fresh eggs for her
+mistress's breakfast before the shops closed, and coming towards her,
+walking at a great pace, she saw one whom she thought she recognised, a
+meagre little man with long reddish hair curling under the brim of a large
+soft black hat. He nodded, smiling pleasantly as he passed her.
+
+"Lor'," she thought, "I didn't know him; it's the stationer's foreman."
+And the very next evening they met in the same street; she was out for a
+little walk, he was hurrying to catch his train. They stopped to pass the
+time of day, and three days after they met at the same time, and as nearly
+as possible at the same place.
+
+"We're always meeting," he said.
+
+"Yes, isn't it strange?... You come this way from business?" she said.
+
+"Yes; about eight o'clock is my time."
+
+It was the end of August; the stars caught fire slowly in the murky London
+sunset; and, vaguely conscious of a feeling of surprise at the pleasure
+they took in each other's company, they wandered round a little bleak
+square in which a few shrubs had just been planted. They took up the
+conversation exactly at the point where it had been broken off.
+
+"I'm sorry," Fred said, "that the paper isn't going to be put to better
+use."
+
+"You don't know my mistress, or you wouldn't say that."
+
+"Perhaps you don't know that novels are very often stories about the loves
+of men for other men's wives. Such books can serve no good purpose."
+
+"I'm sure my mistress don't write about such things. How could she, poor
+dear innocent lamb? It is easy to see you don't know her."
+
+In the course of their argument it transpired that Miss Rice went to
+neither church nor chapel.
+
+Fred was much shocked.
+
+"I hope," he said, "you do not follow your mistress's example."
+
+Esther admitted she had for some time past neglected her religion. Fred
+went so far as to suggest that she ought to leave her present situation
+and enter a truly religious family.
+
+"I owe her too much ever to think of leaving her. And it has nothing to do
+with her if I haven't thought as much about the Lord as I ought to have.
+It's the first place I've been in where there was time for religion."
+
+This answer seemed to satisfy Fred.
+
+"Where used you to go?"
+
+"My people--father and mother--belonged to the Brethren."
+
+"To the Close or the Open?"
+
+"I don't remember; I was only a little child at the time."
+
+"I'm a Plymouth Brother."
+
+"Well, that is strange."
+
+"Remember that it is only through belief in our Lord, in the sacrifice of
+the Cross, that we can be saved."
+
+"Yes, I believe that."
+
+The avowal seemed to have brought them strangely near to each other, and
+on the following Sunday Fred took Esther to meeting, and introduced her as
+one who had strayed, but who had never ceased to be one of them.
+
+She had not been to meeting since she was a little child; and the bare
+room and bare dogma, in such immediate accordance with her own
+nature--were they not associated with memories of home, of father and
+mother, of all that had gone?--touched her with a human delight that
+seemed to reach to the roots of her nature. It was Fred who preached; and
+he spoke of the second coming of Christ, when the faithful would be
+carried away in clouds of glory, of the rapine and carnage to which the
+world would be delivered up before final absorption in everlasting hell;
+and a sensation of dreadful awe passed over the listening faces; a young
+girl who sat with closed eyes put out her hand to assure herself that
+Esther was still there--that she had not been carried away in glory.
+
+As they walked home, Esther told Fred that she had not been so happy for a
+long time. He pressed her hand, and thanked her with a look in which
+appeared all his soul; she was his for ever and ever; nothing could wholly
+disassociate them; he had saved her soul. His exaltation moved her to
+wonder. But her own innate faith, though incapable of these exaltations,
+had supported her during many a troublous year. Fred would want her to
+come to meeting with him next Sunday, and she was going to Dulwich. Sooner
+or later he would find out that she had a child, then she would see him no
+more. It were better that she should tell him than that he should hear it
+from others. But she felt she could not bear the humiliation, the shame;
+and she wished they had never met. That child came between her and every
+possible happiness.... It were better to break off with Fred. But what
+excuse could she give? Everything went wrong with her. He might ask her to
+marry him, then she would have to tell him.
+
+Towards the end of the week she heard some one tap at the window; it was
+Fred. He asked her why he had not seen her; she answered that she had not
+had time.
+
+"Can you come out this evening?"
+
+"Yes, if you like."
+
+She put on her hat, and they went out. Neither spoke, but their feet took
+instinctively the pavement that led to the little square where they had
+walked the first time they went out together.
+
+"I've been thinking of you a good deal, Esther, in the last few days. I
+want to ask you to marry me."
+
+Esther did not answer.
+
+"Will you?" he said.
+
+"I can't; I'm very sorry; don't ask me."
+
+"Why can't you?"
+
+"If I told you I don't think you'd want to marry me. I suppose I'd better
+tell you. I'm not the good woman you think me. I've got a child. There,
+you have it now, and you can take your hook when you like."
+
+It was her blunt, sullen nature that had spoken; she didn't care if he
+left her on the spot--now he knew all and could do as he liked. At last,
+he said--
+
+"But you've repented, Esther?"
+
+"I should think I had, and been punished too, enough for a dozen
+children."
+
+"Ah, then it wasn't lately?"
+
+"Lately! It's nearly eight year ago."
+
+"And all that time you've been a good woman?"
+
+"Yes, I think I've been that."
+
+"Then if--"
+
+"I don't want no ifs. If I am not good enough for you, you can go
+elsewhere and get better; I've had enough of reproaches."
+
+"I did not mean to reproach you; I know that a woman's path is more
+difficult to walk in than ours. It may not be a woman's fault if she
+falls, but it is always a man's. He can always fly from temptation."
+
+"Yet there isn't a man that can say he hasn't gone wrong."
+
+"No, not all, Esther."
+
+Esther looked him full in the face.
+
+"I understand what you mean, Esther, but I can honestly say that I never
+have."
+
+Esther did not like him any better for his purity, and was irritated by
+the clear tones of his icy voice.
+
+"But that is no reason why I should be hard on those who have not been so
+fortunate. I didn't mean to reproach you just now, Esther; I only meant to
+say that I wish you had told me this before I took you to meeting."
+
+"So you're ashamed of me, is that it? Well, you can keep your shame to
+yourself."
+
+"No, not that, Esther--"
+
+"Then you'd like to see me humiliated before the others, as if I haven't
+had enough of that already."
+
+"No, Esther, listen to me. Those who transgress the moral law may not
+kneel at the table for a time, until they have repented; but those who
+believe in the sacrifice of the Cross are acquitted, and I believe you do
+that."
+
+"Yes."
+
+"A sinner that repenteth----I will speak about this at our next meeting;
+you will come with me there?"
+
+"Next Sunday I'm going to Dulwich to see the child."
+
+"Can't you go after meeting?"
+
+"No, I can't be out morning and afternoon both."
+
+"May I go with you?"
+
+"To Dulwich!"
+
+"You won't go until after meeting; I can meet you at the railway station."
+
+"If you like."
+
+As they walked home Esther told Fred the story of her betrayal. He was
+interested in the story, and was very sorry for her.
+
+"I love you, Esther; it is easy to forgive those we love."
+
+"You're very good; I never thought to find a man so good." She looked up
+in his face; her hand was on the gate, and in that moment she felt that
+she almost loved him.
+
+
+
+
+XXIV
+
+
+Mrs. Humphries, an elderly person, who looked after a bachelor's
+establishment two doors up, and generally slipped in about tea-time, soon
+began to speak of Fred as a very nice young man who would be likely to
+make a woman happy. But Esther moved about the kitchen in her taciturn
+way, hardly answering. Suddenly she told Mrs. Humphries that she had been
+to Dulwich with him, and that it was wonderful how he and Jackie had taken
+to one another.
+
+"You don't say so! Well, it is nice to find them religious folks less
+'ard-'earted than they gets the name of."
+
+Mrs. Humphries was of the opinion that henceforth Esther should give
+herself out as Jackie's aunt. "None believes them stories, but they make
+one seem more respectable like, and I am sure Mr. Parsons will appreciate
+the intention." Esther did not answer, but she thought of what Mrs.
+Humphries had said. Perhaps it would be better if Jackie were to leave off
+calling her Mummie. Auntie! But no, she could not bear it. Fred must take
+her as she was or not at all. They seemed to understand each other; he was
+earning good money, thirty shillings a week, and she was now going on for
+eight-and-twenty; if she was ever going to be married it was time to think
+about it.
+
+"I don't know how that dear soul will get on without me," she said one
+October morning as they jogged out of London by a slow train from St.
+Paul's. Fred was taking her into Kent to see his people.
+
+"How do you expect me to get on without you?"
+
+Esther laughed.
+
+"Trust you to manage somehow. There ain't much fear of a man not looking
+after his little self."
+
+"But the old folk will want to know when. What shall I tell them?"
+
+"This time next year; that'll be soon enough. Perhaps you'll get tired of
+me before then."
+
+"Say next spring, Esther."
+
+The train stopped.
+
+"There's father waiting for us in the spring-cart. Father! He don't hear
+us. He's gone a bit deaf of late years. Father!"
+
+"Ah, so here you are. Train late."
+
+"This is Esther, father."
+
+They were going to spend the day at the farm-house, and she was going to
+be introduced to Fred's sisters and to his brother. But these did not
+concern her much, her thoughts were set on Mrs. Parsons, for Fred had
+spoken a great deal about his mother. When she had been told about Jackie
+she was of course very sorry; but when she had heard the whole of Esther's
+story she had said, "We are all born into temptation, and if your Esther
+has really repented and prayed to be forgiven, we must not say no to her."
+Nevertheless Esther was not quite easy in her mind, and half regretted
+that she had consented to see Fred's people until he had made her his
+wife. But it was too late to think of such things. There was the
+farm-house. Fred had just pointed it out, and scenting his stable, the old
+grey ascended the hill at a trot, and Esther wondered what the farm-house
+would be like. All the summer they had had a fine show of flowers, Fred
+said. Now only a few Michaelmas daisies withered in the garden, and the
+Virginia creeper covered one side of the house with a crimson mantle. The
+old man said he would take the trap round to the stable, and Fred walked
+up the red-bricked pavement and lifted the latch. As they passed through
+the kitchen Fred introduced Esther to his two sisters, Mary and Lily. But
+they were busy cooking.
+
+"Mother is in the parlour," said Mary; "she is waiting for you." By the
+window, in a wide wooden arm-chair, sat a large woman about sixty, dressed
+in black. She wore on either side of her long white face two corkscrew
+curls, which gave her a somewhat ridiculous appearance. But she ceased to
+be ridiculous or grotesque when she rose from her chair to greet her son.
+Her face beamed, and she held out her hands in a beautiful gesture of
+welcome.
+
+"Oh, how do you do, dear Fred? I am that glad to see you! How good of you
+to come all this way! Come and sit down here."
+
+"Mother, this is Esther."
+
+"How do you do, Esther? It was good of you to come. I am glad to see you.
+Let me get you a chair. Take off your things, dear; come and sit down."
+
+She insisted on relieving Esther of her hat and jacket, and, having laid
+them on the sofa, she waddled across the room, drawing over two chairs.
+
+"Come and sit down; you'll tell me everything. I can't get about much now,
+but I like to have my children round me. Take this chair, Esther." Then
+turning to Fred, "Tell me, Fred, how you've been getting on. Are you still
+living at Hackney?"
+
+"Yes, mother; but when we're married we're going to have a cottage at
+Mortlake. Esther will like it better than Hackney. It is nearer the
+country."
+
+"Then you've not forgotten the country. Mortlake is on the river, I think.
+I hope you won't find it too damp."
+
+"No, mother, there are some nice cottages there. I think we shall find
+that Mortlake suits us. There are many friends there; more than fifty meet
+together every Sunday. And there's a lot of political work to be done
+there. I know that you're against politics, but men can't stand aside
+nowadays. Times change, mother."
+
+"So long as we have God in our hearts, my dear boy, all that we do is
+well. But you must want something after your journey. Fred, dear, knock at
+that door. Your sister Clara's dressing there. Tell her to make haste."
+
+"All right, mother," cried a voice from behind the partition which
+separated the rooms, and a moment after the door opened and a young woman
+about thirty entered. She was better-looking than the other sisters, and
+the fashion of her skirt, and the worldly manner with which she kissed her
+brother and gave her hand to Esther, marked her off at once from the rest
+of the family. She was forewoman in a large millinery establishment. She
+spent Saturday afternoon and Sunday at the farm, but to-day she had got
+away earlier, and with the view to impressing Esther, she explained how
+this had come about.
+
+Mrs. Parsons suggested a glass of currant wine, and Lily came in with a
+tray and glasses. Clara said she was starving. Mary said she would have to
+wait, and Lily whispered, "In about half-an-hour."
+
+After dinner the old man said that they must be getting on with their work
+in the orchard. Esther said she would be glad to help, but as she was
+about to follow the others Mrs. Parsons detained her.
+
+"You don't mind staying with me a few minutes, do you, dear? I shan't keep
+you long." She drew over a chair for Esther. "I shan't perhaps see you
+again for some time. I am getting an old woman, and the Lord may be
+pleased to take me at any moment. I wanted to tell you, dear, that I put
+my trust in you. You will make a good wife to Fred, I feel sure, and he
+will make a good father to your child, and if God blesses you with other
+children he'll treat your first no different than the others. He's told me
+so, and my Fred is a man of his word. You were led into sin, but you've
+repented. We was all born into temptation, and we must trust to the Lord
+to lead us out lest we should dash our foot against a stone."
+
+"I was to blame; I don't say I wasn't, but----"
+
+"We won't say no more about that. We're all sinners, the best of us.
+You're going to be my son's wife; you're therefore my daughter, and this
+house is your home whenever you please to come to see us. And I hope that
+that will be often. I like to have my children about me. I can't get about
+much now, so they must come to me. It is very sad not to be able to go to
+meeting. I've not been to meeting since Christmas, but I can see them
+going there from the kitchen window, and how 'appy they look coming back
+from prayer. It is easy to see that they have been with God. The
+Salvationists come this way sometimes. They stopped in the lane to sing. I
+could not hear the words, but I could see by their faces that they was
+with God... Now, I've told you all that was on my mind. I must not keep
+you; Fred is waiting."
+
+Esther kissed the old woman, and went into the orchard, where she found
+Fred on a ladder shaking the branches. He came down when he saw Esther,
+and Harry, his brother, took his place. Esther and Fred filled one basket,
+then, yielding to a mutual inclination, they wandered about the orchard,
+stopping on the little plank bridge. They hardly spoke at all, words
+seemed unnecessary; each felt happiness to be in the other's presence.
+They heard the water trickling through the weeds, and as the light waned
+the sound of the falling apples grew more distinct. Then a breeze shivered
+among the tops of the apple-trees, and the sered leaves were blown from
+the branches. The voices of the gatherers were heard crying that their
+baskets were full. They crossed the plank bridge, joking the lovers, who
+stood aside to let them pass.
+
+When they entered the house they saw the old farmer, who had slipped in
+before them, sitting by his wife holding her hand, patting it in a curious
+old-time way, and the attitude of the old couple was so pregnant with
+significance that it fixed itself on Esther's mind. It seemed to her that
+she had never seen anything so beautiful. So they had lived for forty
+years, faithful to each other, and she wondered if Fred forty years hence
+would be sitting by her side holding her hand.
+
+The old man lighted a lantern and went round to the stable to get a trap
+out. Driving through the dark country, seeing village lights shining out
+of the distant solitudes, was a thrilling adventure. A peasant came like a
+ghost out of the darkness; he stepped aside and called, "Good-night!"
+which the old farmer answered somewhat gruffly, while Fred answered in a
+ringing, cheery tone. Never had Esther spent so long and happy a day.
+Everything had combined to produce a strange exaltation of the spirit in
+her; and she listened to Fred more tenderly than she had done before.
+
+The train rattled on through suburbs beginning far away in the country;
+rattled on through suburbs that thickened at every mile; rattled on
+through a brick entanglement; rattled over iron bridges, passed over deep
+streets, over endless lines of lights.
+
+He bade her good-bye at the area gate, and she had promised him that they
+should be married in the spring. He had gone away with a light heart. And
+she had run upstairs to tell her dear mistress of the happy day which her
+kindness had allowed her to spend in the country. And Miss Rice had laid
+the book she was reading on her knees, and had listened to Esther's
+pleasures as if they had been her own.
+
+
+
+
+XXV
+
+
+But when the spring came Esther put Fred off till the autumn, pleading as
+an excuse that Miss Rice had not been very well lately, and that she did
+not like to leave her.
+
+It was one of those long and pallid evenings at the end of July, when the
+sky seems as if it could not darken. The roadway was very still in its
+dust and heat, and Esther, her print dress trailing, watched a poor horse
+striving to pull a four-wheeler through the loose heavy gravel that had
+just been laid down. So absorbed was she in her pity for the poor animal
+that she did not see the gaunt, broad-shouldered man coming towards her,
+looking very long-legged in a pair of light grey trousers and a black
+jacket a little too short for him. He walked with long, even strides, a
+small cane in one hand, the other in his trousers pocket; a heavy gold
+chain showed across his waistcoat. He wore a round hat and a red necktie.
+The side whiskers and the shaven upper lip gave him the appearance of a
+gentleman's valet. He did not notice Esther, but a sudden step taken
+sideways as she lingered, her eyes fixed on the cab-horse, brought her
+nearly into collision with him.
+
+"Do look where you are going to," he exclaimed, jumping back to avoid the
+beer-jug, which fell to the ground. "What, Esther, is it you?"
+
+"There, you have made me drop the beer."
+
+"Plenty more in the public; I'll get you another jug."
+
+"It is very kind of you. I can get what I want myself."
+
+They looked at each other, and at the end of a long silence William said:
+"Just fancy meeting you, and in this way! Well I never! I am glad to see
+you again."
+
+"Are you really! Well, so much for that--your way and mine aren't the
+same. I wish you good evening."
+
+"Stop a moment, Esther."
+
+"And my mistress waiting for her dinner. I've to go and get some more
+beer."
+
+"Shall I wait for you?"
+
+"Wait for me! I should think not, indeed."
+
+Esther ran down the area steps. Her hand paused as it was about to lift
+the jug down from the dresser, and a number of thoughts fled across her
+mind. That man would be waiting for her outside. What was she to do? How
+unfortunate! If he continued to come after her he and Fred would be sure
+to meet.
+
+"What are you waiting for, I should like to know?" she cried, as she came
+up the steps.
+
+"That's 'ardly civil, Esther, and after so many years too; one would
+think--"
+
+"I want none of your thinking; get out of my sight. Do you 'ear? I want no
+truck with you whatever. Haven't you done me enough mischief already?"
+
+"Be quiet; listen to me. I'll explain."
+
+"I don't want none of your explanation. Go away."
+
+Her whole nature was now in full revolt, and quick with passionate
+remembrance of the injustice that had been done her, she drew back from
+him, her eyes flashing. Perhaps it was some passing remembrance of the
+breakage of the first beer-jug that prevented her from striking him with
+the second. The spasm passed, and then her rage, instead of venting itself
+in violent action, assumed the form of dogged silence. He followed her up
+the street, and into the bar. She handed the jug across the counter, and
+while the barman filled it searched in her pocket for the money. She had
+brought none with her. William promptly produced sixpence. Esther answered
+him with a quick, angry glance, and addressing the barman, she said, "I'll
+pay you to-morrow; that'll do, I suppose? 41 Avondale Road."
+
+"That will be all right, but what am I to do with this sixpence?"
+
+"I know nothing about that," Esther said, picking up her skirt; "I'll pay
+you for what I have had."
+
+Holding the sixpence in his short, thick, and wet fingers, the barman
+looked at William. William smiled, and said, "Well, they do run sulky
+sometimes."
+
+He caught at the leather strap and pulled the door open for her, and as
+she passed out she became aware that William still admired her. It was
+really too bad, and she was conscious of injustice. Having destroyed her
+life, this man had passed out of sight and knowledge, but only to reappear
+when a vista leading to a new life seemed open before her.
+
+"It was that temper of yours that did it; you wouldn't speak to me for a
+fortnight. You haven't changed, I can see that," he said, watching
+Esther's face, which did not alter until he spoke of how unhappy he had
+been in his marriage. "A regular brute she was--we're no longer together,
+you know; haven't been for the last three years; could not put up with
+'er. She was that--but that's a long story." Esther did not answer him. He
+looked at her anxiously, and seeing that she would not be won over easily,
+he spoke of his money.
+
+"Look 'ere, Esther," he said, laying his hand on the area gate. "You won't
+refuse to come out with me some Sunday. I've a half a share in a
+public-house, the 'King's Head,' and have been backing winners all this
+year. I've plenty of money to treat you. I should like to make it up to
+you. Perhaps you've 'ad rather a 'ard time. What 'ave yer been doing all
+these years? I want to hear."
+
+"What 'ave I been doing? Trying to bring up your child! That's what I've
+been doing."
+
+"There's a child, then, is there?" said William, taken aback. Before he
+could recover himself Esther had slipped past him down the area into the
+house. For a moment he looked as if he were going to follow her; on second
+thoughts he thought he had better not. He lingered a moment and then
+walked slowly away in the direction of the Metropolitan Railway.
+
+"I'm sorry to 'ave kept you waiting, miss, but I met with an accident and
+had to come back for another jug."
+
+"And what was the accident you met with, Esther?"
+
+"I wasn't paying no attention, miss; I was looking at a cab that could
+hardly get through the stones they've been laying down in the Pembroke
+Road; the poor little horse was pulling that 'ard that I thought he'd drop
+down dead, and while I was looking I ran up against a passer-by, and being
+a bit taken aback I dropped the jug."
+
+"How was that? Did you know the passer-by?"
+
+Esther busied herself with the dishes on the sideboard; and, divining that
+something serious had happened to her servant, Miss Rice refrained and
+allowed the dinner to pass in silence. Half-an-hour later Esther came into
+the study with her mistress's tea. She brought over the wicker table, and
+as she set it by her mistress's knees the shadows about the bookcase and
+the light of the lamp upon the book and the pensive content on Miss Rice's
+face impelled her to think of her own troubles, the hardship, the passion,
+the despair of her life compared with this tranquil existence. Never had
+she felt more certain that misfortune was inherent in her life. She
+remembered all the trouble she had had, she wondered how she had come out
+of it all alive; and now, just as things seemed like settling, everything
+was going to be upset again. Fred was away for a fortnight's holiday--she
+was safe for eleven or twelve days. After that she did not know what might
+not happen. Her instinct told her that although he had passed over her
+fault very lightly, so long as he knew nothing of the father of her child,
+he might not care to marry her if William continued to come after her. Ah!
+if she hadn't happened to go out at that particular time she might never
+have met William. He did not live in the neighbourhood; if he did they
+would have met before. Perhaps he had just settled in the neighbourhood.
+That would be worst of all. No, no, no; it was a mere accident; if the
+cask of beer had held out a day or two longer, or if it had run out a day
+or two sooner, she might never have met William! But now she could not
+keep out of his way. He spent the whole day in the street waiting for her.
+If she went out on an errand he followed her there and back. If she'd only
+listen. She was prettier than ever. He had never cared for any one else.
+He would marry her when he got his divorce, and then the child would be
+theirs. She did not answer him, but her blood boiled at the word "theirs."
+How could Jackie become their child? Was it not she who had worked for
+him, brought him up? and she thought as little of his paternity as if he
+had fallen from heaven into her arms.
+
+One evening as she was laying the table her grief took her unawares, and
+she was obliged to dash aside the tears that had risen to her eyes. The
+action was so apparent that Miss Rice thought it would be an affectation
+to ignore it. So she said in her kind, musical, intimate manner, "Esther,
+I'm afraid you have some trouble on your mind; can I do anything for you?"
+
+"No, miss, no, it's nothing; I shall get over it presently."
+
+But the effort of speaking was too much for her, and a bitter sob caught
+her in the throat.
+
+"You had better tell me your trouble, Esther; even if I cannot help you it
+will ease your heart to tell me about it. I hope nothing is the matter
+with Jackie?"
+
+"No, miss, no; thank God, he's well enough. It's nothing to do with him;
+leastways--" Then with a violent effort she put back her tears. "Oh, it is
+silly of me," she said, "and your dinner getting cold."
+
+"I don't want to pry into your affairs, Esther, but you know that----"
+
+"Yes, miss, I know you to be kindness itself; but there's nothing to be
+done but to bear it. You asked me just now if it had anything to do with
+Jackie. Well, it is no more than that his father has come back."
+
+"But surely, Esther, that's hardly a reason for sorrow; I should have
+thought that you would have been glad."
+
+"It is only natural that you should think so, miss; them what hasn't been
+through the trouble never thinks the same as them that has. You see, miss,
+it is nearly nine years since I've seen him, and during them nine years I
+'ave been through so much. I 'ave worked and slaved, and been through all
+the 'ardship, and now, when the worst is over, he comes and wants me to
+marry him when he gets his divorce."
+
+"Then you like some one else better?"
+
+"Yes, miss, I do, and what makes it so 'ard to bear is that for the last
+two months or more I've been keeping company with Fred Parsons--that's the
+stationer's assistant; you've seen him in the shop, miss--and he and me is
+engaged to be married. He's earning good money, thirty shillings a week;
+he's as good a young man as ever stepped--religious, kind-hearted,
+everything as would make a woman 'appy in 'er 'ome. It is 'ard for a girl
+to keep up with 'er religion in some of the situations we have to put up
+with, and I'd mostly got out of the habit of chapel-going till I met him;
+it was 'e who led me back again to Christ. But for all that, understanding
+very well, not to say indulgent for the failings of others, like yourself,
+miss. He knew all about Jackie from the first, and never said nothing
+about it, but that I must have suffered cruel, which I have. He's been
+with me to see Jackie, and they both took to each other wonderful like; it
+couldn't 'ave been more so if 'e'd been 'is own father. But now all that's
+broke up, for when Fred meets William it is as likely as not as he'll
+think quite different."
+
+The evening died behind the red-brick suburb, and Miss Rice's strip of
+garden grew greener. She had finished her dinner, and she leaned back
+thinking of the story she had heard. She was one of those secluded maiden
+ladies so common in England, whose experience of life is limited to a tea
+party, and whose further knowledge of life is derived from the
+yellow-backed French novels which fill their bookcases.
+
+"How was it that you happened to meet William--I think you said his name
+was William?"
+
+"It was the day, miss, that I went to fetch the beer from the
+public-house. It was he that made me drop the jug; you remember, miss, I
+had to come back for another. I told you about it at the time. When I went
+out again with a fresh jug he was waiting for me, he followed me to the
+'Greyhound' and wanted to pay for the beer--not likely that I'd let him; I
+told them to put it on the slate, and that I'd pay for it to-morrow. I
+didn't speak to him on leaving the bar, but he followed me to the gate. He
+wanted to know what I'd been doing all the time. Then my temper got the
+better of me, and I said, 'Looking after your child.' 'My child!' says he.
+'So there's a child, is there?'"
+
+"I think you told me that he married one of the young ladies at the place
+you were then in situation?"
+
+"Young lady! No fear, she wasn't no young lady. Anyway, she was too good
+or too bad for him; for they didn't get on, and are now living separate."
+
+"Does he speak about the child? Does he ask to see him?"
+
+"Lor', yes, miss; he'd the cheek to say the other day that we'd make him
+our child--our child, indeed! and after all these years I've been working
+and he doing nothing."
+
+"Perhaps he might like to do something for him; perhaps that's what he's
+thinking of."
+
+"No, miss, I know him better than that. That's his cunning; he thinks
+he'll get me through the child."
+
+"In any case I don't see what you'll gain by refusing to speak to him; if
+you want to do something for the child, you can. You said he was
+proprietor of a public-house."
+
+"I don't want his money; please God, we'll be able to do without it to the
+end."
+
+"If I were to die to-morrow, Esther, remember that you would be in exactly
+the same position as you were when you entered my service. You remember
+what that was? You have often told me there was only eighteen-pence
+between you and the workhouse; you owed Mrs. Lewis two weeks' money for
+the support of the child. I daresay you've saved a little money since
+you've been with me, but it cannot be more than a few pounds. I don't
+think that you ought to let this chance slip through your fingers, if not
+for your own, for Jackie's sake. William, according to his own account, is
+making money. He may become a rich man; he has no children by his wife; he
+might like to leave some of his money--in any case, he'd like to leave
+something--to Jackie."
+
+"He was always given to boasting about money. I don't believe all he says
+about money or anything else."
+
+"That may be, but he may have money, and you have no right to refuse to
+allow him to provide for Jackie. Supposing later on Jackie were to
+reproach you?"
+
+"Jackie'd never do that, miss; he'd know I acted for the best."
+
+"If you again found yourself out of a situation, and saw Jackie crying for
+his dinner, you'd reproach yourself."
+
+"I don't think I should, miss."
+
+"I know you are very obstinate, Esther. When does Parsons return?"
+
+"In about a week, miss."
+
+"Without telling William anything about Parsons, you'll be able to find
+out whether it is his intention to interfere in your life. I quite agree
+with you that it is important that the two men should not meet; but it
+seems to me, by refusing to speak to William, by refusing to let him see
+Jackie, you are doing all you can to bring about the meeting that you wish
+to avoid. Is he much about here?"
+
+"Yes, miss, he seems hardly ever out of the street, and it do look so bad
+for the 'ouse. I do feel that ashamed. Since I've been with you, miss, I
+don't think you've 'ad to complain of followers."
+
+"Well, don't you see, you foolish girl, that he'll remain hanging about,
+and the moment Parsons comes back he'll hear of it. You'd better see to
+this at once."
+
+"Whatever you says, miss, always do seem right, some 'ow. What you says do
+seem that reasonable, and yet I don't know how to bring myself to go to
+'im. I told 'im that I didn't want no truck with 'im."
+
+"Yes, I think you said so. It is a delicate matter to advise anyone in,
+but I feel sure I am right when I say that you have no right to refuse to
+allow him to do something for the child. Jackie is now eight years old,
+you've not the means of giving him a proper education, and you know the
+disadvantage it has been to you not to know how to read and write."
+
+"Jackie can read beautifully--Mrs. Lewis 'as taught him."
+
+"Yes, Esther; but there's much besides reading and writing. Think over
+what I've said; you're a sensible girl; think it out when you go to bed
+to-night."
+
+Next day, seeing William in the street, she went upstairs to ask Miss
+Rice's permission to go out. "Could you spare me, miss, for an hour or
+so?" was all she said. Miss Rice, who had noticed a man loitering,
+replied, "Certainly, Esther."
+
+"You aren't afraid to be left in the house alone, miss? I shan't be far
+away."
+
+"No. I am expecting Mr. Alden. I'll let him in, and can make the tea
+myself."
+
+Esther ran up the area steps and walked quickly down the street, as if she
+were going on an errand. William crossed the road and was soon alongside
+of her.
+
+"Don't be so 'ard on a chap," he said. "Just listen to reason."
+
+"I don't want to listen to you; you can't have much to say that I care
+for."
+
+Her tone was still stubborn, but he perceived that it contained a change
+of humour.
+
+"Come for a little walk, and then, if you don't agree with what I says,
+I'll never come after you again."
+
+"You must take me for a fool if you think I'd pay attention to your
+promises."
+
+"Esther, hear me out; you're very unforgiving, but if you'd hear me
+out----"
+
+"You can speak; no one's preventing you that I can see."
+
+"I can't say it off like that; it is a long story. I know that I've
+behaved badly to you, but it wasn't as much my fault as you think; I could
+explain a good lot of it."
+
+"I don't care about your explanations. If you've only got
+explanations----"
+
+"There's that boy."
+
+"Oh, it is the boy you're thinking of?"
+
+"Yes, and you too, Esther. The mother can't be separated from the child."
+
+"Very likely; the father can, though."
+
+"If you talk that snappish I shall never get out what I've to say. I've
+treated you badly, and it is to make up for the past as far as I can--"
+
+"And how do you know that you aren't doing harm by coming after me?"
+
+"You mean you're keeping company with a chap and don't want me?"
+
+"You don't know I'm not a married woman; you don't know what kind of
+situation I'm in. You comes after me just because it pleases your fancy,
+and don't give it a thought that you mightn't get me the sack, as you got
+it me before."
+
+"There's no use nagging; just let's go where we can have a talk, and then
+if you aren't satisfied you can go your way and I can go mine. You said I
+didn't know that you wasn't married. I don't, but if you aren't, so much
+the better. If you are, you've only to say so and I'll take my hook. I've
+done quite enough harm, without coming between you and your husband."
+
+William spoke earnestly, and his words came so evidently from his heart
+that Esther was touched against her will.
+
+"No, I ain't married yet," she replied.
+
+"I'm glad of that."
+
+"I don't see what odds it can make to you whether I'm married or not. If I
+ain't married, you are."
+
+William and Esther walked on in silence, listening to the day as it hushed
+in quiet suburban murmurs. The sky was almost colourless--a faded grey,
+that passed into an insignificant blue; and upon this almost neutral tint
+the red suburb appeared in rigid outline, like a carving. At intervals the
+wind raised a cloud of dust in the roadway. Stopping before a piece of
+waste ground, William said--
+
+"Let's go in there; we'll be able to talk easier." Esther raised no
+objection. They went in and looked for a place where they could sit down.
+
+"This is just like old times," said William, moving a little closer.
+
+"If you are going to begin any of that nonsense I'll get up and go. I only
+came out with you because you said you had something particular to say
+about the child."
+
+"Well, it is only natural that I should like to see my son."
+
+"How do you know it's a son?"
+
+"I thought you said so. I should like it to be a boy--is it?"
+
+"Yes, it is a boy, and a lovely boy too; very different to his father.
+I've always told him that his father is dead."
+
+"And is he sorry?"
+
+"Not a bit. I've told him his father wasn't good to me; and he don't care
+for those who haven't been good to his mother."
+
+"I see, you've brought him up to hate me?"
+
+"He don't know nothing about you--how should 'e?"
+
+"Very likely; but there's no need to be that particular nasty. As I've
+said before, what's done can't be undone. I treated you badly, I know
+that; and I've been badly treated myself--damned badly treated. You've 'ad
+a 'ard time; so have I, if that's any comfort to ye."
+
+"I suppose it is wrong of me, but seeing you has brought up a deal of
+bitterness, more than I thought there was in me."
+
+William lay at length, his body resting on one arm. He held a long grass
+stalk between his small, discoloured teeth. The conversation had fallen.
+He looked at Esther; she sat straight up, her stiff cotton dress spread
+over the rough grass; her cloth jacket was unbuttoned. He thought her a
+nice-looking woman and he imagined her behind the bar of the "King's
+Head." His marriage had proved childless and in every way a failure; he
+now desired a wife such as he felt sure she would be, and his heart
+hankered sorely after his son. He tried to read Esther's quiet, subdued
+face. It was graver than usual, and betrayed none of the passion that
+choked in her. She must manage that the men should not meet. But how
+should she rid herself of him? She noticed that he was looking at her, and
+to lead his thoughts away from herself she asked him where he had gone
+with his wife when they left Woodview. Breaking off suddenly, he said--
+
+"Peggy knew all the time I was gone on you."
+
+"It don't matter about that. Tell me where you went--they said you went
+foreign."
+
+"We first went to Boulogne, that's in France; but nearly everyone speaks
+English there, and there was a nice billiard room handy, where all the big
+betting men came in of an evening. We went to the races. I backed three
+winners on the first day--the second I didn't do so well. Then we went on
+to Paris. The race-meetings is very 'andy--I will say that for
+Paris--half-an-hour's drive and there you are."
+
+"Did your wife like Paris?"
+
+"Yes, she liked it pretty well--it is all the place for fashion, and the
+shops is grand; but she got tired of it too, and we went to Italy."
+
+"Where's that?"
+
+"That's down south. A beast of a place--nothing but sour wine, and all the
+cookery done in oil, and nothing to do but seeing picture-galleries. I got
+that sick of it I could stand it no longer, and I said, 'I've 'ad enough
+of this. I want to go home, where I can get a glass of Burton and a cut
+from the joint, and where there's a horse worth looking at.'"
+
+"But she was very fond of you. She must have been."
+
+"She was, in her way. But she always liked talking to the singers and the
+painters that we met out there. Nothing wrong, you know. That was after we
+had been married about three years."
+
+"What was that?"
+
+"That I caught her out."
+
+"How do you know there was anything wrong? Men always think bad of women."
+
+"No, it was right enough! she had got dead sick of me, and I had got dead
+sick of her. It never did seem natural like. There was no 'omeliness in
+it, and a marriage that ain't 'omely is no marriage for me. Her friends
+weren't my friends; and as for my friends, she never left off insulting me
+about them. If I was to ask a chap in she wouldn't sit in the same room
+with him. That's what it got to at last. And I was always thinking of you,
+and your name used to come up when we was talking. One day she said, 'I
+suppose you are sorry you didn't marry a servant?' and I said, 'I suppose
+you are sorry you did?'"
+
+"That was a good one for her. Did she say she was?"
+
+"She put her arms round my neck and said she loved none but her big Bill.
+But all her flummery didn't take me in. And I says to myself, 'Keep an eye
+on her.' For there was a young fellow hanging about in a manner I didn't
+particularly like. He was too anxious to be polite to me, he talked to me
+about 'orses, and I could see he knew nothing about them. He even went so
+far as go down to Kempton with me."
+
+"And how did it all end?"
+
+"I determined to keep my eye on this young whipper-snapper, and come up
+from Ascot by an earlier train than they expected me. I let myself in and
+ran up to the drawing-room. They were there sitting side by side on the
+sofa. I could see they were very much upset. The young fellow turned red,
+and he got up, stammering, and speaking a lot of rot.
+
+"'What! you back already? How did you get on at Ascot? Had a good day?'
+
+"'Rippin'; but I'm going to have a better one now,' I said, keeping my eye
+all the while on my wife. I could see by her face that there was no doubt
+about it. Then I took him by the throat. 'I just give you two minutes to
+confess the truth; I know it, but I want to hear it from you. Now, out
+with it, or I'll strangle you.' I gave him a squeeze just to show him that
+I meant it. He turned up his eyes, and my wife cried, 'Murder!' I threw
+him back from me and got between her and the door, locked it, and put the
+key in my pocket. 'Now,' I said, 'I'll drag the truth out of you both.' He
+did look white, he shrivelled up by the chimney-piece, and she--well, she
+looked as if she could have killed me, only there was nothing to kill me
+with. I saw her look at the fire-irons. Then, in her nasty sarcastic way,
+she said, 'There's no reason, Percy, why he shouldn't know. Yes,' she
+said, 'he is my lover; you can get your divorce when you like.'
+
+"I was a bit taken aback; my idea was to squeeze it all out of the fellow
+and shame him before her. But she spoilt my little game there, and I could
+see by her eyes that she knew that she had. 'Now, Percy,' she said, 'we'd
+better go.' That put my blood up. I said, 'Go you shall, but not till I
+give you leave,' and without another word I took him by the collar and led
+him to the door; he came like a lamb, and I sent him off with as fine a
+kick as he ever got in his life. He went rolling down, and didn't stop
+till he got to the bottom. You should have seen her look at me; there was
+murder in her eyes. If she could she'd have killed me, but she couldn't
+and calmed down a bit. 'Let me go; what do you want me for? You can get a
+divorce.... I'll pay the costs.'
+
+"'I don't think I'd gratify you so much. So you'd like to marry him, would
+you, my beauty?'
+
+"'He's a gentleman, and I've had enough of you; if you want money you
+shall have it.'
+
+"I laughed at her, and so it went on for an hour or more. Then she
+suddenly calmed down. I knew something was up, only I didn't know what. I
+don't know if I told you we was in lodgings--the usual sort, drawing-room
+with folding doors, the bedroom at the back. She went into the bedroom,
+and I followed, just to make sure she couldn't get out that way. There was
+a chest of drawers before the door; I thought she couldn't move it, and
+went back into the sitting-room. But somehow she managed to move it
+without my hearing her, and before I could stop her she was down the
+stairs like lightning. I went after her, but she had too long a start of
+me, and the last I heard was the street door go bang."
+
+The conversation paused. William took the stalk he was chewing from his
+teeth, and threw it aside. Esther had picked one, and with it she beat
+impatiently among the grass.
+
+"But what has all this to do with me?" she said. "If this is all you have
+brought me out to listen to----"
+
+"That's a nice way to round on me. Wasn't it you what asked me to tell you
+the story?"
+
+"So you've deserted two women instead of one, that's about the long and
+short of it."
+
+"Well, if that's what you think I'd better be off," said William, and he
+rose to his feet and stood looking at her. She sat quite still, not daring
+to raise her eyes; her heart was throbbing violently. Would he go away and
+never come back? Should she answer him indifferently or say nothing? She
+chose the latter course. Perhaps it was the wrong one, for her dogged
+silence irritated him, and he sat down and begged of her to forgive him.
+He would wait for her. Then her heart ceased throbbing, and a cold
+numbness came over her hands.
+
+"My wife thought that I had no money, and could do what she liked with me.
+But I had been backing winners all the season, and had a couple of
+thousand in the bank. I put aside a thousand for working expenses, for I
+intended to give up backing horses and go in for bookmaking instead. I
+have been at it ever since. A few ups and downs, but I can't complain. I
+am worth to-day close on three thousand pounds."
+
+At the mention of so much money Esther raised her eyes. She looked at
+William steadfastly. Her object was to rid herself of him, so that she
+might marry another man; but at that moment a sensation of the love she
+had once felt for him sprang upon her suddenly.
+
+"I must be getting back, my mistress will be waiting for me."
+
+"You needn't be in that hurry. It is quite early. Besides, we haven't
+settled nothing yet."
+
+"You've been telling me about your wife. I don't see much what it's got to
+do with me."
+
+"I thought you was interested... that you wanted to see that I wasn't as
+much to blame as you thought."
+
+"I must be getting back," she said; "anything else you have to say to me
+you can tell me on the way home."
+
+"Well, it all amounts to this, Esther; if I get a divorce we might come
+together again. What do you think?"
+
+"I think you'd much better make it up with her. I daresay she's very sorry
+for what she's done."
+
+"That's all rot, Esther. She ain't sorry, and wouldn't live with me no
+more than I with her. We could not get on; what's the use? You'd better
+let bygones be bygones. You know what I mean--marry me."
+
+"I don't think I could do that."
+
+"You like some other chap. You like some chap, and don't want me
+interfering in your life. That's why you wants me to go back and live with
+my wife. You don't think of what I've gone through with her already."
+
+"You've not been through half of what I have. I'll be bound that you never
+wanted a dinner. I have."
+
+"Esther, think of the child."
+
+"You're a nice one to tell me to think of the child, I who worked and
+slaved for him all these years."
+
+"Then I'm to take no for an answer?"
+
+"I don't want to have nothing to do with you."
+
+"And you won't let me see the child?"
+
+A moment later Esther answered, "You can see the child, if you like."
+
+"Where is he?"
+
+"You can come with me to see him next Sunday, if you like. Now let me go
+in."
+
+"What time shall I come for you?"
+
+"About three--a little after."
+
+
+
+
+XXVI
+
+
+William was waiting for her in the area; and while pinning on her hat she
+thought of what she should say, and how she should act. Should she tell
+him that she wanted to marry Fred? Then the long black pin that was to
+hold her hat to her hair went through the straw with a little sharp sound,
+and she decided that when the time came she would know what to say.
+
+As he stepped aside to let her go up the area steps, she noticed how
+beautifully dressed he was. He wore a pair of grey trousers, and in his
+spick and span morning coat there was a bunch of carnations.
+
+They walked some half-dozen yards up the street in silence.
+
+"But why do you want to see the boy? You never thought of him all these
+years."
+
+"I'll tell you, Esther.... But it is nice to be walking out with you
+again. If you'd only let bygones be bygones we might settle down together
+yet. What do you think?"
+
+She did not answer, and he continued, "It do seem strange to be walking
+out with you again, meeting you after all these years, and I'm never in
+your neighbourhood. I just happened to have a bit of business with a
+friend who lives your way, and was coming along from his 'ouse, turning
+over in my mind what he had told me about Rising Sun for the Stewards'
+Cup, when I saw you coming along with the jug in your 'and. I said,
+'That's the prettiest girl I've seen this many a day; that's the sort of
+girl I'd like to see behind the bar of the "King's Head."' You always
+keeps your figure--you know you ain't a bit changed; and when I caught
+sight of those white teeth I said, 'Lor', why, it's Esther.'"
+
+"I thought it was about the child you was going to speak to me."
+
+"So I am, but you came first in my estimation. The moment I looked into
+your eyes I felt it had been a mistake all along, and that you was the
+only one I had cared about."
+
+"Then all about wanting to see the child was a pack of lies?"
+
+"No, they weren't lies. I wanted both mother and child--if I could get
+'em, ye know. I'm telling you the unvarnished truth, Esther. I thought of
+the child as a way of getting you back; but little by little I began to
+take an interest in him, to wonder what he was like, and with thoughts of
+the boy came different thoughts of you, Esther, who is the mother of my
+boy. Then I wanted you both back; and I've thought of nothing else ever
+since."
+
+At that moment they reached the Metropolitan Railway, and William pressed
+forward to get the tickets. A subterraneous rumbling was heard, and they
+ran down the steps as fast as they could, and seeing them so near the
+ticket-collector held the door open for them, and just as the train was
+moving from the platform William pushed Esther into a second-class
+compartment.
+
+"We're in the wrong class," she cried.
+
+"No, we ain't; get in, get in," he shouted. And with the guard crying to
+him to desist, he hopped in after her, saying, "You very nearly made me
+miss the train. What 'ud you've done if the train had taken you away and
+left me behind?"
+
+The remark was not altogether a happy one.
+
+"Then you travel second-class?" Esther said.
+
+"Yes, I always travel second-class now; Peggy never would, but second
+seems to me quite good enough. I don't care about third, unless one is
+with a lot of pals, and can keep the carriage to ourselves. That's the way
+we manage it when we go down to Newmarket or Doncaster."
+
+They were alone in the compartment. William leaned forward and took her
+hand.
+
+"Try to forgive me, Esther."
+
+She drew her hand away; he got up, and sat down beside her, and put his
+arm around her waist.
+
+"No, no. I'll have none of that. All that sort of thing is over between
+us."
+
+He looked at her inquisitively, not knowing how to act.
+
+"I know you've had a hard time, Esther. Tell me about it. What did you do
+when you left Woodview?" He unfortunately added, "Did you ever meet any
+one since that you cared for?"
+
+The question irritated her, and she said, "It don't matter to you who I
+met or what I went through."
+
+The conversation paused. William spoke about the Barfields, and Esther
+could not but listen to the tale of what had happened at Woodview during
+the last eight years.
+
+Woodview had been all her unhappiness and all her misfortune. She had gone
+there when the sap of life was flowing fastest in her, and Woodview had
+become the most precise and distinct vision she had gathered from life.
+She remembered that wholesome and ample country house, with its park and
+its down lands, and the valley farm, sheltered by the long lines of elms.
+She remembered the race-horses, their slight forms showing under the grey
+clothing, the round black eyes looking out through the eyelet holes in the
+hanging hoods, the odd little boys astride--a string of six or seven
+passing always before the kitchen windows, going through the paddock gate
+under the bunched evergreens. She remembered the rejoicings when the horse
+won at Goodwood, and the ball at the Shoreham Gardens. Woodview had meant
+too much in her life to be forgotten; its hillside and its people were
+drawn out in sharp outline on her mind. Something in William's voice
+recalled her from her reverie, and she heard him say--
+
+"The poor Gaffer, 'e never got over it; it regular broke 'im up. I forgot
+to tell you, it was Ginger who was riding. It appears that he did all he
+knew; he lost start, he tried to get shut in, but it warn't no go, luck
+was against them; the 'orse was full of running, and, of course, he
+couldn't sit down and saw his blooming 'ead off, right in th' middle of
+the course, with Sir Thomas's (that's the 'andicapper) field-glasses on
+him. He'd have been warned off the blooming 'eath, and he couldn't afford
+that, even to save his own father. The 'orse won in a canter: they clapped
+eight stun on him for the Cambridgeshire. It broke the Gaffer's 'eart. He
+had to sell off his 'orses, and he died soon after the sale. He died of
+consumption. It generally takes them off earlier; but they say it is in
+the family. Miss May----"
+
+"Oh, tell me about her," said Esther, who had been thinking all the while
+of Mrs. Barfield and of Miss Mary. "Tell me, there's nothing the matter
+with Miss Mary?"
+
+"Yes, there is: she can't live no more in England; she has to go to
+winter, I think it is, in Algeria."
+
+At that moment the train screeched along the rails, and vibrating under
+the force of the brakes, it passed out of the tunnel into Blackfriars.
+
+"We shall just be able to catch the ten minutes past four to Peckham," she
+said, and they ran up the high steps. William strode along so fast that
+Esther was obliged to cry out, "There's no use, William; train or no
+train, I can't walk at that rate."
+
+There was just time for them to get their tickets at Ludgate Hill. They
+were in a carriage by themselves, and he proposed to draw up the windows
+so that they might be able to talk more easily. He was interested in the
+ill-luck that had attended certain horses, and Esther wanted to hear about
+Mrs. Barfield.
+
+"You seem to be very fond of her; what did she do for you?"
+
+"Everything--that was after you went away. She was kind."
+
+"I'm glad to hear that," said William.
+
+"So they spends the summer at Woodview and goes to foreign parts for the
+winter?"
+
+"Yes, that's it. Most of the estate was sold; but Mrs. Barfield, the
+Saint--you remember we used to call her the Saint--well, she has her
+fortune, about five hundred a year, and they just manage to live there in
+a sort of hole-and-corner sort of way. They can't afford to keep a trap,
+and towards the end of October they go off and don't return till the
+beginning of May. Woodview ain't what it was. You remember the stables
+they were putting up when Silver Braid won the two cups? Well, they are
+just as when you last saw them--rafters and walls."
+
+"Racing don't seem to bring no luck to any one. It ain't my affair, but if
+I was you I'd give it up and get to some honest work."
+
+"Racing has been a good friend to me. I don't know where I should be
+without it to-day."
+
+"So all the servants have left Woodview? I wonder what has become of
+them."
+
+"You remember my mother, the cook? She died a couple of years ago."
+
+"Mrs. Latch! Oh, I'm so sorry."
+
+"She was an old woman. You remember John Randal, the butler? He's in a
+situation in Cumberland Place, near the Marble Arch. He sometimes comes
+round and has a glass in the 'King's Head.' Sarah Tucker--she's in a
+situation somewhere in town. I don't know what has become of Margaret
+Gale."
+
+"I met her one day in the Strand. I'd had nothing to eat all day. I was
+almost fainting, and she took me into a public-house and gave me a
+sausage."
+
+The train began to slacken speed, and William said, "This is Peckham."
+
+They handed up their tickets, and passed into the air of an irregular
+little street--low disjointed shops and houses, where the tramcars tinkled
+through a slacker tide of humanity than the Londoners were accustomed to.
+
+"This way," said Esther. "This is the way to the Rye."
+
+"Then Jackie lives at the Rye?"
+
+"Not far from the Rye. Do you know East Dulwich?"
+
+"No, I never was here before."
+
+"Mrs. Lewis (that's the woman who looks after him) lives at East Dulwich,
+but it ain't very far. I always gets out here. I suppose you don't mind a
+quarter of an hour's walk."
+
+"Not when I'm with you," William replied gallantly, and he followed her
+through the passers-by.
+
+The Rye opened up like a large park, beginning in the town and wending far
+away into a country prospect. At the Peckham end there were a dozen
+handsome trees, and under them a piece of artificial water where boys were
+sailing toy boats, and a poodle was swimming. Two old ladies in black came
+out of a garden full of hollyhocks; they walked towards a seat and sat
+down in the autumn landscape. And as William and Esther pursued their way
+the Rye seemed to grow longer and longer. It opened up into a vast expanse
+full of the last days of cricket; it was charming with slender trees and a
+Japanese pavilion quaintly placed on a little mound. An upland background
+in gradations, interspaced with villas, terraces, and gardens, and steep
+hillside, showing fields and hayricks, brought the Rye to a picturesque
+and abrupt end.
+
+"But it ain't nearly so big as Chester race-course. A regular cockpit of a
+place is the Chester course; and not every horse can get round it."
+
+Turning to the right and leaving the Rye behind them, they ascended a
+long, monotonous, and very ugly road composed of artificial little houses,
+each set in a portion of very metallic garden. These continued all the way
+to the top of a long hill, straggling into a piece of waste ground where
+there were some trees and a few rough cottages. A little boy came running
+towards them, stumbling over the cinder heaps and the tin canisters with
+which the place was strewn, and William felt that that child was his.
+
+"That child will break 'is blooming little neck if 'e don't take care," he
+remarked tentatively.
+
+She hated him to see the child, and to assert her complete ownership she
+clasped Jackie to her bosom without a word of explanation, and she
+questioned the child on matters about which William knew nothing.
+
+William stood looking tenderly on his son, waiting for Esther to introduce
+them. Mother and child were both so glad in each other that they forgot
+the fine gentleman standing by. Suddenly the boy looked towards his
+father, and she repented a little of her cruelty.
+
+"Jackie," she said, "do you know who this gentleman is who has come to see
+you?"
+
+"No, I don't."
+
+She did not care that Jackie should love his father, and yet she could not
+help feeling sorry for William.
+
+"I'm your father," said William.
+
+"No, you ain't. I ain't got no father."
+
+"How do you know, Jackie?"
+
+"Father died before I was born; mother told me."
+
+"But mother may be mistaken."
+
+"If my father hadn't died before I was born he'd 've been to see us before
+this. Come, mother, come to tea. Mrs. Lewis 'as got hot cakes, and they'll
+be burnt if we stand talking."
+
+"Yes, dear, but what the gentleman says is quite true; he is your father."
+
+Jackie made no answer, and Esther said, "I told you your father was dead,
+but I was mistaken."
+
+"Won't you come and walk with me?" said William.
+
+"No, thank you; I like to walk with mother."
+
+"He's always like that with strangers," said Esther; "it is shyness; but
+he'll come and talk to you presently, if you leave him alone."
+
+Each cottage had a rough piece of garden, the yellow crowns of sunflowers
+showed over the broken palings, and Mrs. Lewis's large face came into the
+windowpane. A moment later she was at the front door welcoming her
+visitors. The affection of her welcome was checked when she saw that
+William was with Esther, and she drew aside respectfully to let this fine
+gentleman pass. When they were in the kitchen Esther said----
+
+"This is Jackie's father."
+
+"What, never! I thought--but I'm sure we're very glad to see you." Then
+noticing the fine gold chain that hung across his waistcoat, the cut of
+his clothes, and the air of money which his whole bearing seemed to
+represent, she became a little obsequious in her welcome.
+
+"I'm sure, sir, we're very glad to see you. Won't you sit down?" and
+dusting a chair with her apron, she handed it to him. Then turning to
+Esther, she said--
+
+"Sit yourself down, dear; tea'll be ready in a moment." She was one of
+those women who, although their apron-strings are a good yard in length,
+preserve a strange agility of movement and a pleasant vivacity of speech.
+"I 'ope, sir, we've brought 'im up to your satisfaction; we've done the
+best we could. He's a dear boy. There's been a bit of jealousy between us
+on his account, but for all that we 'aven't spoilt him. I don't want to
+praise him, but he's as well behaved a boy as I knows of. Maybe a bit
+wilful, but there ain't much fault to find with him, and I ought to know,
+for it is I that 'ad the bringing up of him since he was a baby of two
+months old. Jackie, dear, why don't you go to your father?"
+
+He stood by his mother's chair, twisting his slight legs in a manner that
+was peculiar to him. His dark hair fell in thick, heavy locks over his
+small face, and from under the shadow of his locks his great luminous eyes
+glanced furtively at his father. Mrs. Lewis told him to take his finger
+out of his mouth, and thus encouraged he went towards William, still
+twisting his legs and looking curiously dejected. He did not speak for
+some time, but he allowed William to put his arm round him and draw him
+against his knees. Then fixing his eyes on the toes of his shoes he said
+somewhat abruptly, but confidentially--
+
+"Are you really my father? No humbug, you know," he added, raising his
+eyes, and for a moment looking William searchingly in the face.
+
+"I'm not humbugging, Jack. I'm your father right enough. Don't you like
+me? But I think you said you didn't want to have a father?"
+
+Jackie did not answer this question. After a moment's reflection, he said,
+"If you be father, why didn't you come to see us before?"
+
+William glanced at Esther, who, in her turn, glanced at Mrs. Lewis.
+
+"I'm afraid that's rather a long story, Jackie. I was away in foreign
+parts."
+
+Jackie looked as if he would like to hear about "foreign parts," and
+William awaited the question that seemed to tremble on the child's lips.
+But, instead, he turned suddenly to Mrs. Lewis and said--
+
+"The cakes aren't burnt, are they? I ran as fast as I could the moment I
+saw them coming."
+
+The childish abruptness of the transition made them laugh, and an
+unpleasant moment passed away. Mrs. Lewis took the plate of cakes from the
+fender and poured out their tea. The door and window were open, and the
+dying light lent a tenderness to the tea table, to the quiet solicitude of
+the mother watching her son, knowing him in all his intimate habits; to
+the eager curiosity of the father on the other side, leaning forward
+delighted at every look and word, thinking it all astonishing, wonderful.
+Jackie sat between the women. He seemed to understand that his chance of
+eating as many tea-cakes as he pleased had come, and he ate with his eyes
+fixed on the plate, considering which piece he would have when he had
+finished the piece he had in his hand. Little was said--a few remarks
+about the fine weather, and offers to put out another cup of tea. By their
+silence Mrs. Lewis began to understand that they had differences to
+settle, and that she had better leave them. She took her shawl from the
+peg, and pleaded that she had an appointment with a neighbour. But she
+wouldn't be more than half-an-hour; would they look after the house till
+her return? And William watched her, thinking of what he would say when
+she was out of hearing. "That boy of ours is a dear little fellow; you've
+been a good mother, I can see that. If I had only known."
+
+"There's no use talking no more about it; what's done is done."
+
+The cottage door was open, and in the still evening they could see their
+child swinging on the gate. The moment was tremulous with responsibility,
+and yet the words as they fell from their lips seemed accidental.
+
+At last he said--
+
+"Esther, I can get a divorce."
+
+"You'd much better go back to your wife. Once married, always married,
+that's my way of thinking."
+
+"I'm sorry to hear you say it, Esther. Do you think a man should stop with
+his wife who's been treated as I have been?"
+
+Esther avoided a direct reply. Why should he care about the child? He had
+never done anything for him. William said that if he had known there was a
+child he would have left his wife long ago. He believed that he loved the
+child just as much as she did, and didn't believe in marriage without
+children.
+
+"That would have been very wrong."
+
+"We ain't getting no for'arder by discussing them things," he said,
+interrupting her. "We can't say good-bye after this evening and never see
+one another again."
+
+"Why not? I'm nothing to you now; you've got a wife of your own; you've no
+claim upon me; you can go your way and I can keep to mine."
+
+"There's that child. I must do something for him."
+
+"Well, you can do something for him without ruining me."
+
+"Ruining you, Esther?"
+
+"Yes, ruining me. I ain't going to lose my character by keeping company
+with a married man. You've done me harm enough already, and should be
+ashamed to think of doing me any more. You can pay for the boy's schooling
+if you like, you can pay for his keep too, but you mustn't think that in
+doing so you'll get hold of me again."
+
+"Do you mean it, Esther?"
+
+"Followers ain't allowed where I am. You're a married man. I won't have
+it."
+
+"But when I get my divorce?"
+
+"When you get your divorce! I don't know how it'll be then. But here's
+Mrs. Lewis; she's a-scolding of Jackie for swinging on that 'ere gate.
+Naughty boy; he's been told twenty times not to swing on the gate."
+
+Esther complained that they had stayed too long, that he had made her
+late, and treated his questions about Jackie with indifference. He might
+write if he had anything important to say, but she could not keep company
+with a married man. William seemed very downcast. Esther, too, was
+unhappy, and she did not know why. She had succeeded as well as she had
+expected, but success had not brought that sense of satisfaction which she
+had expected it would. Her idea had been to keep William out of the way
+and hurry on her marriage with Fred. But this marriage, once so ardently
+desired, no longer gave her any pleasure. She had told Fred about the
+child. He had forgiven her. But now she remembered that men were very
+forgiving before marriage, but how did she know that he would not reproach
+her with her fault the first time they came to disagree about anything?
+Ah, it was all misfortune. She had no luck. She didn't want to marry
+anyone.
+
+That visit to Dulwich had thoroughly upset her. She ought to have kept out
+of William's way--that man seemed to have a power over her, and she hated
+him for it. What did he want to see the child for? The child was nothing
+to him. She had been a fool; now he'd be after the child; and through this
+fever of trouble there raged an acute desire to know what Jackie thought
+of his father, what Mrs. Lewis thought of William.
+
+And the desire to know what was happening became intolerable. She went to
+her mistress to ask for leave to go out. Very little of her agitation
+betrayed itself in her demeanour, but Miss Rice's sharp eyes had guessed
+that her servant's life was at a crisis. She laid her book on her knee,
+asked a few kind, discreet questions, and after dinner Esther hurried
+towards the Underground.
+
+The door of the cottage was open, and as she crossed the little garden she
+heard Mrs. Lewis say--
+
+"Now you must be a good boy, and not go out in the garden and spoil your
+new clothes." And when Esther entered Mrs. Lewis was giving the finishing
+touches to the necktie which she had just tied. "Now you'll go and sit on
+that chair, like a good boy, and wait there till your father comes."
+
+"Oh, here's mummie," cried the boy, and he darted out of Mrs. Lewis's
+hand. "Look at my new clothes, mummie; look at them!" And Esther saw her
+boy dressed in a suit of velveteen knickerbockers with brass buttons, and
+a sky-blue necktie.
+
+"His father--I mean Mr. Latch--came here on Thursday morning, and took him
+to----"
+
+"Took me up to London----"
+
+"And brought him back in those clothes."
+
+"We went to such a big shop in Oxford Street for them, and they took down
+many suits before they could get one to fit. Father is that difficult to
+please, and I thought we should go away without any clothes, and I
+couldn't walk about London with father in these old things. Aren't they
+shabby?" he added, kicking them contemptuously. It was a little grey suit
+that Esther had made for him with her own hands.
+
+"Father had me measured for another suit, but it won't be ready for a few
+days. Father took me to the Zoological Gardens, and we saw the lions and
+tigers, and there are such a lot of monkeys. There is one----But what
+makes you look so cross, mummie dear? Don't you ever go out with father in
+London? London is such a beautiful place. And then we walked through the
+park and saw a lot of boys sailing boats. Father asked me if I had a boat.
+I said you couldn't afford to buy me toys. He said that was hard lines on
+me, and on the way back to the station we stopped at a toy-shop and he
+bought me a boat. May I show you my boat?"
+
+Jackie was too much occupied with thoughts of his boat to notice the gloom
+that was gathering on his mother's face; Mrs. Lewis wished to call upon
+him to desist, but before she could make up her mind what to do, he had
+brought the toy from the table and was forcing it into his mother's hands.
+"This is a cutter-rigged boat, because it has three sails and only one
+mast. Father told me it was. He'll be here in half-an-hour; we're going to
+sail the boat in the pond on the Rye, and if it gets across all right
+he'll take me to the park where there's a big piece of water, twice, three
+times as big as the water on the Rye. Do you think, mummie, that I shall
+ever be able to get my boat across such a piece of water as the--I've
+forgotten the name. What do they call it, mummie?"
+
+"Oh, I don't know; don't bother me with your boat."
+
+"Oh, mummie, what have I done that you won't look at my boat? Aren't you
+coming with father to the Rye to see me sail it?"
+
+"I don't want to go with you. You want me no more. I can't afford to give
+you boats.... Come, don't plague me any more with your toy," she said,
+pushing it away, and then in a moment of convulsive passion she threw the
+boat across the room. It struck the opposite wall, its mast was broken,
+and the sails and cords made a tangled little heap. Jackie ran to his toy,
+he picked it up, and his face showed his grief. "I shan't be able to sail
+my boat now; it won't sail, its mast and the sails is broke. Mummie, what
+did you break my boat for?" and the child burst into tears. At that moment
+William entered.
+
+"What is the child crying for?" he asked, stopping abruptly on the
+threshold. There was a slight tone of authority in his voice which angered
+Esther still more.
+
+"What is it to you what he is crying for?" she said, turning quickly
+round. "What has the child got to do with you that you should come down
+ordering people about for? A nice sort of mean trick, and one that is just
+like you. You beg and pray of me to let you see the child, and when I do
+you come down here on the sly, and with the present of a suit of clothes
+and a toy boat you try to win his love away from his mother."
+
+"Esther, Esther, I never thought of getting his love from you. I meant no
+harm. Mrs. Lewis said that he was looking a trifle moped; we thought that
+a change would do him good, and so----"
+
+"Ah! it was Mrs. Lewis that asked you to take him up to London. It is a
+strange thing what a little money will do. Ever since you set foot in this
+cottage she has been curtseying to you, handing you chairs. I didn't much
+like it, but I didn't think that she would round on me in this way." Then
+turning suddenly on her old friend, she said, "Who told you to let him
+have the child?... Is it he or I who pays you for his keep? Answer me
+that. How much did he give you--a new dress?"
+
+"Oh, Esther, I am surprised at you: I didn't think it would come to
+accusing me of being bribed, and after all these years." Mrs. Lewis put
+her apron to her eyes, and Jackie stole over to his father.
+
+"It wasn't I who smashed the boat, it was mummie; she's in a passion. I
+don't know why she smashed it. I didn't do nothing."
+
+William took the child on his knee.
+
+"She didn't mean to smash it. There's a good boy, don't cry no more."
+
+Jackie looked at his father. "Will you buy me another? The shops aren't
+open to-day." Then getting off his father's knee he picked up the toy, and
+coming back he said, "Could we mend the boat somehow? Do you think we
+could?"
+
+"Jackie, dear, go away; leave your father alone. Go into the next room,"
+said Mrs. Lewis.
+
+"No, he can stop here; let him be," said Esther. "I want to have no more
+to say to him, he can look to his father for the future." Esther turned on
+her heel and walked straight for the door. But dropping his boat with a
+cry, the little fellow ran after her and clung to her skirt despairingly.
+"No, mummie dear, you mustn't go; never mind the boat; I love you better
+than the boat--I'll do without a boat."
+
+"Esther, Esther, this is all nonsense. Just listen."
+
+"No, I won't listen to you. But you shall listen to me. When I brought you
+here last week you asked me in the train what I had been doing all these
+years. I didn't answer you, but I will now. I've been in the workhouse."
+
+"In the workhouse!"
+
+"Yes, do that surprise you?"
+
+Then jerking out her words, throwing them at him as if they were
+half-bricks, she told him the story of the last eight years--Queen
+Charlotte's hospital, Mrs. Rivers, Mrs. Spires, the night on the
+Embankment, and the workhouse.
+
+"And when I came out of the workhouse I travelled London in search of
+sixteen pounds a year wages, which was the least I could do with, and when
+I didn't find them I sat here and ate dry bread. She'll tell you--she saw
+it all. I haven't said nothing about the shame and sneers I had to put up
+with--you would understand nothing about that,--and there was more than
+one situation I was thrown out of when they found I had a child. For they
+didn't like loose women in their houses; I had them very words said about
+me. And while I was going through all that you was living in riches with a
+lady in foreign parts; and now when she could put up with you no longer,
+and you're kicked out, you come to me and ask for your share of the child.
+Share of the child! What share is yours, I'd like to know?"
+
+"Esther!"
+
+"In your mean, underhand way you come here on the sly to see if you can't
+steal the love of the child from me."
+
+She could speak no more; her strength was giving way before the tumult of
+her passion, and the silence that had come suddenly into the room was more
+terrible than her violent words. William stood quaking, horrified, wishing
+the earth would swallow him; Mrs. Lewis watched Esther's pale face,
+fearing that she would faint; Jackie, his grey eyes open round, held his
+broken boat still in his hand. The sense of the scene had hardly caught on
+his childish brain; he was very frightened; his tears and sobs were a
+welcome intervention. Mrs. Lewis took him in her arms and tried to soothe
+him. William tried to speak; his lips moved, but no words came.
+
+Mrs. Lewis whispered, "You'll get no good out of her now, her temper's up;
+you'd better go. She don't know what she's a-saying of."
+
+"If one of us has to go," said William, taking the hint, "there can't be
+much doubt which of us." He stood at the door holding his hat, just as if
+he were going to put it on. Esther stood with her back turned to him. At
+last he said--
+
+"Good-bye, Jackie. I suppose you don't want to see me again?"
+
+For reply Jackie threw his boat away and clung to Mrs. Lewis for
+protection. William's face showed that he was pained by Jackie's refusal.
+
+"Try to get your mother to forgive me; but you are right to love her best.
+She's been a good mother to you." He put on his hat and went without
+another word. No one spoke, and every moment the silence grew more
+paralysing. Jackie examined his broken boat for a moment, and then he put
+it away, as if it had ceased to have any interest for him. There was no
+chance of going to the Rye that day; he might as well take off his velvet
+suit; besides, his mother liked him better in his old clothes. When he
+returned his mother was sorry for having broken his boat, and appreciated
+the cruelty. "You shall have another boat, my darling," she said, leaning
+across the table and looking at him affectionately; "and quite as good as
+the one I broke."
+
+"Will you, mummie? One with three sails, cutter-rigged, like that?"
+
+"Yes, dear, you shall have a boat with three sails."
+
+"When will you buy me the boat, mummie--to-morrow?"
+
+"As soon as I can, Jackie."
+
+This promise appeared to satisfy him. Suddenly he looked--
+
+"Is father coming back no more?"
+
+"Do you want him back?"
+
+Jackie hesitated; his mother pressed him for an answer.
+
+"Not if you don't, mummie."
+
+"But if he was to give you another boat, one with four sails?"
+
+"They don't have four sails, not them with one mast."
+
+"If he was to give you a boat with two masts, would you take it?"
+
+"I should try not to, I should try ever so hard."
+
+There were tears in Jackie's voice, and then, as if doubtful of his power
+to resist temptation, he buried his face in his mother's bosom and sobbed
+bitterly.
+
+"You shall have another boat, my darling."
+
+"I don't want no boat at all! I love you better than a boat, mummie,
+indeed I do."
+
+"And what about those clothes? You'd sooner stop with me and wear those
+shabby clothes than go to him and wear a pretty velvet suit?"
+
+"You can send back the velvet suit."
+
+"Can I? My darling, mummie will give you another velvet suit," and she
+embraced the child with all her strength, and covered him with kisses.
+
+"But why can't I wear that velvet suit, and why can't father come back?
+Why don't you like father? You shouldn't be cross with father because he
+gave me the boat. He didn't mean no harm."
+
+"I think you like your father. You like him better than me."
+
+"Not better than you, mummie."
+
+"You wouldn't like to have any other father except your own real father?"
+
+"How could I have a father that wasn't my own real father?"
+
+Esther did not press the point, and soon after Jackie began to talk about
+the possibility of mending his boat; and feeling that something
+irrevocable had happened, Esther put on her hat and jacket, and Mrs. Lewis
+and Jackie accompanied her to the station. The women kissed each other on
+the platform and were reconciled, but there was a vague sensation of
+sadness in the leave-taking which they did not understand. And Esther sat
+alone in a third-class carriage absorbed in consideration of the problem
+of her life. The life she had dreamed would never be hers--somehow she
+seemed to know that she would never be Fred's wife. Everything seemed to
+point to the inevitableness of this end.
+
+She had determined to see William no more, but he wrote asking how she
+would like him to contribute towards the maintenance of the child, and
+this could not be settled without personal interviews. Miss Rice and Mrs.
+Lewis seemed to take it for granted that she would marry William when he
+obtained his divorce. He was applying himself to the solution of this
+difficulty, and professed himself to be perfectly satisfied with the
+course that events were taking. And whenever she saw Jackie he inquired
+after his father; he hoped, too, that she had forgiven poor father, who
+had never meant no harm at all. Day by day she saw more clearly that her
+instinct was right in warning her not to let the child see William, that
+she had done wrong in allowing her feelings to be overruled by Miss Rice,
+who had, of course, advised her for the best. But it was clear to her now
+that Jackie never would take kindly to Fred as a stepfather; that he would
+never forgive her if she divided him from his real father by marrying
+another man. He would grow to dislike his stepfather more and more; and
+when he grew older he would keep away from the house on account of the
+presence of his stepfather; it would end by his going to live with him. He
+would be led into a life of betting and drinking; she would lose her child
+if she married Fred.
+
+
+
+
+XXVII
+
+
+It was one evening as she was putting things away in the kitchen before
+going up to bed that she heard some one rap at the window. Could this be
+Fred? Her heart was beating; she must let him in. The area was in
+darkness; she could see no one.
+
+"Who is there?" she cried.
+
+"It's only me. I had to see you to-night on----"
+
+She drew an easier breath, and asked him to come in.
+
+William had expected a rougher reception. The tone in which Esther invited
+him in was almost genial, and there was no need of so many excuses; but he
+had come prepared with excuses, and a few ran off his tongue before he was
+aware.
+
+"Well," said Esther, "it is rather late. I was just going up to bed; but
+you can tell me what you've come about, if it won't take long."
+
+"It won't take long.... I've seen my solicitor this afternoon, and he says
+that I shall find it very difficult to get a divorce."
+
+"So you can't get your divorce?"
+
+"Are you glad?"
+
+"I don't know."
+
+"What do you mean? You must be either glad or sorry."
+
+"I said what I mean. I am not given to telling lies." Esther set the large
+tin candlestick, on which a wick was spluttering, on the kitchen table,
+and William looked at her inquiringly. She was always a bit of a mystery
+to him. And then he told her, speaking very quickly, how he had neglected
+to secure proofs of his wife's infidelity at the time; and as she had
+lived a circumspect although a guilty life ever since, the solicitor
+thought that it would be difficult to establish a case against her.
+
+"Perhaps she never was guilty," said Esther, unable to resist the
+temptation to irritate.
+
+"Not guilty! what do you mean? Haven't I told you how I found them the day
+I came up from Ascot?... And didn't she own up to it? What more proof do
+you want?"
+
+"Anyway, it appears you haven't enough; what are you going to do? Wait
+until you catch her out?"
+
+"There is nothing else to do, unless----" William paused, and his eyes
+wandered from Esther's.
+
+"Unless what?"
+
+"Well, you see my solicitors have been in communication with her
+solicitors, and her solicitors say that if it were the other way round,
+that if I gave her reason to go against me for a divorce, she would be
+glad of the chance. That's all they said at first, but since then I've
+seen my wife, and she says that if I'll give her cause to get a divorce
+she'll not only go for it, but will pay all the legal expenses; it won't
+cost us a penny. What do you think Esther?"
+
+"I don't know that I understand. You don't mean----"
+
+"You see, Esther, that to get a divorce--there's no one who can hear us,
+is there?"
+
+"No, there's no one in the 'ouse except me and the missus, and she's in
+the study reading. Go on."
+
+"It seems that one of the parties must go and live with another party
+before either can get a divorce. Do you understand?"
+
+"You don't mean that you want me to go and live with you, and perhaps get
+left a second time?"
+
+"That's all rot, Esther, and you knows it."
+
+"If that's all you've got to say to me you'd better take your hook."
+
+"Do you see, there's the child to consider? And you know well enough,
+Esther, that you've nothing to fear; you knows as well as can be that I
+mean to run straight this time. So I did before. But let bygones be
+bygones, and I know you'd like the child to have a father; so if only for
+his sake----"
+
+"For his sake! I like that; as if I hadn't done enough for him. Haven't I
+worked and slaved myself to death and gone about in rags? That's what that
+child has cost me. Tell me what he's cost you. Not a penny piece--a toy
+boat and a suit of velveteen knickerbockers,--and yet you come telling
+me--I'd like to know what's expected of me. Is a woman never to think of
+herself? Do I count for nothing? For the child's sake, indeed! Now, if it
+was anyone else but you. Just tell me where do I come in? That's what I
+want to know. I've played the game long enough. Where do I come in? That's
+what I want to know."
+
+"There's no use flying in a passion, Esther. I know you've had a hard
+time. I know it was all very unlucky from the very first. But there's no
+use saying that you might get left a second time, for you know well enough
+that that ain't true. Say you won't do it; you're a free woman, you can
+act as you please. It would be unjust to ask you to give up anything more
+for the child; I agree with you in all that. But don't fly in a rage with
+me because I came to tell you there was no other way out of the
+difficulty."
+
+"You can go and live with another woman, and get a divorce that way."
+
+"Yes, I can do that; but I first thought I'd speak to you on the subject.
+For if I did go and live with another woman I couldn't very well desert
+her after getting a divorce."
+
+"You deserted me."
+
+"Why go back on that old story?"
+
+"It ain't an old story, it's the story of my life, and I haven't come to
+the end of it yet."
+
+"But you'll have got to the end of it if you'll do what I say."
+
+A moment later Esther said--
+
+"I don't know what you want to get a divorce for at all. I daresay your
+wife would take you back if you were to ask her."
+
+"She's no children, and never will have none, and marriage is a poor
+look-out without children--all the worry and anxiety for nothing. What do
+we marry for but children? There's no other happiness. I've tried
+everything else--"
+
+"But I haven't."
+
+"I know all that. I know you've had a damned hard time, Esther. I've had a
+good week at Doncaster, and have enough money to buy my partner out; we
+shall 'ave the 'ouse to ourselves, and, working together, I don't think
+we'll 'ave much difficulty in building it up into a very nice property,
+all of which will in time go to the boy. I'm doing pretty well, I told
+you, in the betting line, but if you like I'll give it up. I'll never lay
+or take the odds again. I can't say more, Esther, can I? Come, say yes,"
+he said, reaching his arm towards her.
+
+"Don't touch me," she said surlily, and drew back a step with air of
+resolution that made him doubt if he would be able to persuade her.
+
+"Now, Esther----" William did not finish. It seemed useless to argue with
+her, and he looked at the great red ash of the tallow candle.
+
+"You are the mother of my boy, so it is different; but to advise me to go
+and live with another woman! I shouldn't have thought it of a religious
+girl like you."
+
+"Religion! There's very little time for religion in the places I've had to
+work in." Then, thinking of Fred, she added that she had returned to
+Christ, and hoped He would forgive her. William encouraged her to speak of
+herself, remarking that, chapel or no chapel, she seemed just as severe
+and particular as ever. "If you won't, I can only say I am sorry; but that
+shan't prevent me from paying you as much a week as you think necessary
+for Jack's keep and his schooling. I don't want the boy to cost you
+anything. I'd like to do a great deal more for the boy, but I can't do
+more unless you make him my child."
+
+"And I can only do that by going away to live with you?" The words brought
+an instinctive look of desire into her eyes.
+
+"In six months we shall be man and wife.... Say yes."
+
+"I can't... I can't, don't ask me."
+
+"You're afraid to trust me, is that it?"
+
+Esther did not answer.
+
+"I can make that all right: I'll settle £500 on you and the child."
+
+She looked up; the same look was in her eyes, only modified, softened by
+some feeling of tenderness which had come into her heart.
+
+He put his arm round her; she was leaning against the table; he was
+sitting on the edge.
+
+"You know that I mean to act rightly by you."
+
+"Yes, I think you do."
+
+"Then say yes."
+
+"I can't--it is too late."
+
+"There's another chap?"
+
+She nodded.
+
+"I thought as much. Do you care for him?"
+
+She did not answer.
+
+He drew her closer to him; she did not resist; he could see that she was
+weeping. He kissed her on her neck first, and then on her face; and he
+continued to ask her if she loved the other chap. At last she signified
+that she did not.
+
+"Then say yes." She murmured that she could not. "You can, you can, you
+can." He kissed her, all the while reiterating, "You can, you can, you
+can," until it became a sort of parrot cry. Several minutes elapsed, and
+the candle began to splutter in its socket. She said--
+
+"Let me go; let me light the gas."
+
+As she sought for the matches she caught sight of the clock.
+
+"I did not know it was so late."
+
+"Say yes before I go."
+
+"I can't."
+
+And it was impossible to extort a promise from her. "I'm too tired," she
+said, "let me go."
+
+He took her in his arms and kissed her, and said, "My own little wife."
+
+As he went up the area steps she remembered that he had used the same
+words before. She tried to think of Fred, but William's great square
+shoulders had come between her and this meagre little man. She sighed, and
+felt once again that her will was overborne by a force which she could not
+control or understand.
+
+
+
+
+XXVIII
+
+
+She went round the house bolting and locking the doors, seeing that
+everything was made fast for the night. At the foot of the stairs painful
+thoughts came upon her, and she drew her hand across her eyes; for she was
+whelmed with a sense of sorrow, of purely mental misery, which she could
+not understand, and which she had not strength to grapple with. She was,
+however, conscious of the fact that life was proving too strong for her,
+that she could make nothing of it, and she thought that she did not care
+much what happened. She had fought with adverse fate, and had conquered in
+a way; she had won countless victories over herself, and now found herself
+without the necessary strength for the last battle; she had not even
+strength for blame, and merely wondered why she had let William kiss her.
+She remembered how she had hated him, and now she hated him no longer. She
+ought not to have spoken to him; above all, she ought not to have taken
+him to see the child. But how could she help it?
+
+She slept on the same landing as Miss Rice, and was moved by a sudden
+impulse to go in and tell her the story of her trouble. But what good? No
+one could help her. She liked Fred; they seemed to suit each other, and
+she could have made him a good wife if she had not met William. She
+thought of the cottage at Mortlake, and their lives in it; and she sought
+to stimulate her liking for him with thoughts of the meeting-house; she
+thought even of the simple black dress she would wear, and that life
+seemed so natural to her that she did not understand why she hesitated....
+If she were to marry William she would go to the "King's Head."
+
+She would stand behind the bar; she would serve the customers. She had
+never seen much life, and felt somehow that she would like to see a little
+life; there would not be much life in the cottage at Mortlake; nothing but
+the prayer-meeting. She stopped thinking, surprised at her thoughts. She
+had never thought like that before; it seemed as if some other woman whom
+she hardly knew was thinking for her. She seemed like one standing at
+cross-roads, unable to decide which road she would take. If she took the
+road leading to the cottage and the prayer-meeting her life would
+henceforth be secure. She could see her life from end to end, even to the
+time when Fred would come and sit by her, and hold her hand as she had
+seen his father and mother sitting side by side. If she took the road to
+the public-house and the race-course she did not know what might not
+happen. But William had promised to settle £500 on her and Jackie. Her
+life would be secure either way.
+
+She must marry Fred; she had promised to marry him; she wished to be a
+good woman; he would give her the life she was most fitted for, the life
+she had always desired; the life of her father and mother, the life of her
+childhood. She would marry Fred, only--something at that moment seemed to
+take her by the throat. William had come between her and that life. If she
+had not met him at Woodview long ago; if she had not met him in the
+Pembroke Road that night she went to fetch the beer for her mistress's
+dinner, how different everything would have been! ...If she had met him
+only a few months later, when she was Fred's wife!
+
+Wishing she might go to sleep, and awake the wife of one or the other, she
+fell asleep to dream of a husband possessed of the qualities of both, and
+a life that was neither all chapel nor all public-house. But soon the one
+became two, and Esther awoke in terror, believing she had married them
+both.
+
+
+
+
+XXIX
+
+
+If Fred had said, "Come away with me," Esther would have obeyed the
+elemental romanticism which is so fixed a principle in woman's nature. But
+when she called at the shop he only spoke of his holiday, of the long
+walks he had taken, and the religious and political meetings he had
+attended. Esther listened vaguely; and there was in her mind unconscious
+regret that he was not a little different. Little irrelevant thoughts came
+upon her. She would like him better if he wore coloured neckties and a
+short jacket; she wished half of him away--his dowdiness, his
+sandy-coloured hair, the vague eyes, the black neckties, the long loose
+frock-coat. But his voice was keen and ringing, and when listening her
+heart always went out to him, and she felt that she might fearlessly
+entrust her life to him. But he did not seem wholly to understand her, and
+day by day, against her will, the thought gripped her more and more
+closely that she could not separate Jackie from his father. She would have
+to tell Fred the whole truth, and he would not understand it; that she
+knew. But it would have to be done, and she sent round to say she'd like
+to see him when he left business. Would he step round about eight o'clock?
+
+The clock had hardly struck eight when she heard a tap at the window. She
+opened the door and he came in, surprised by the silence with which she
+received him.
+
+"I hope nothing has happened. Is anything the matter?"
+
+"Yes, a great deal's the matter. I'm afraid we shall never be married,
+Fred, that's what's the matter."
+
+"How's that, Esther? What can prevent us getting married?" She did not
+answer, and then he said, "You've not ceased to care for me?"
+
+"No, that's not it."
+
+"Jackie's father has come back?"
+
+"You've hit it, that's what happened."
+
+"I'm sorry that man has come across you again. I thought you told me he
+was married. But, Esther, don't keep me in suspense; what has he done?"
+
+"Sit down; don't stand staring at me in that way, and I'll tell you the
+story."
+
+Then in a strained voice, in which there was genuine suffering, Esther
+told her story, laying special stress on the fact that she had done her
+best to prevent him from seeing the child.
+
+"I don't see how you could have forbidden him access to the child."
+
+He often used words that Esther did not understand, but guessing his
+meaning, she answered--
+
+"That's just what the missus said; she argued me into taking him to see
+the child. I knew once he'd seen Jackie there'd be no getting rid of him.
+I shall never get rid of him again."
+
+"He has no claim upon you. It is just like him, low blackguard fellow that
+he is, to come after you, persecuting you. But don't you fear; you leave
+him to me. I'll find a way of stopping his little game."
+
+Esther looked at his frail figure.
+
+"You can do nothing; no one can do nothing," she said, and the tears
+trembled in her handsome eyes. "He wants me to go away and live with him,
+so that his wife may be able to divorce him."
+
+"Wants you to go away and live with him! But surely, Esther, you do
+not----"
+
+"Yes, he wants me to go and live with him, so that his wife can get a
+divorce," Esther answered, for the suspense irritated her; "and how can I
+refuse to go with him?"
+
+"Esther, are you serious? You cannot... You told me that you did not love
+him, and after all----" He waited for Esther to speak.
+
+"Yes," she said very quickly, "there is no way out of it that I can see."
+
+"Esther, that man has tempted you, and you have not prayed."
+
+She did not answer.
+
+"I don't want to hear more of this," he said, catching up his hat. "I
+shouldn't have believed it if I had not heard it from your lips; no, not
+if the whole world had told me. You are in love with this man, though you
+may not know it, and you've invented this story as a pretext to throw me
+over. Good-bye, Esther."
+
+"Fred, dear, listen, hear me out. You'll not go away in that hasty way.
+You're the only friend I have. Let me explain."
+
+"Explain! how can such things be explained?"
+
+"That's what I thought until all this happened to me. I have suffered
+dreadful in the last few days. I've wept bitter tears, and I thought of
+all you said about the 'ome you was going to give me." Her sincerity was
+unmistakable, and Fred doubted her no longer. "I'm very fond of you, Fred,
+and if things had been different I think I might have made you a good
+wife. But it wasn't to be."
+
+"Esther, I don't understand. You need never see this man again if you
+don't wish it."
+
+"Nay, nay, things ain't so easily changed as all that. He's the father of
+my child, he's got money, and he'll leave his money to his child if he's
+made Jackie's father in the eyes of the law."
+
+"That can be done without your going to live with him."
+
+"Not as he wants. I know what he wants; he wants a 'ome, and he won't be
+put off with less."
+
+"How men can be so wicked as----"
+
+"No, you do him wrong. He ain't no more wicked than another; he's just one
+of the ordinary sort--not much better or worse. If he'd been a real bad
+lot it would have been better for us, for then he'd never have come
+between us. You're beginning to understand, Fred, ain't you? If I don't go
+with him my boy'll lose everything. He wants a 'ome--a real 'ome with
+children, and if he can't get me he'll go after another woman."
+
+"And are you jealous?"
+
+"No, Fred. But think if we was to marry. As like as not I should have
+children, and they'd be more in your sight than my boy."
+
+"Esther, I promise that----"
+
+"Just so, Fred; even if you loved him like your own, you can't make sure
+that he'd love you."
+
+"Jackie and I----"
+
+"Ah, yes; he'd have liked you well enough if he'd never seen his father.
+But he's that keen on his father, and it would be worse later on. He'd
+never be contented in our 'ome. He'd be always after him, and then I
+should never see him, and he would be led away into betting and drink."
+
+"If his father is that sort of man, the best chance for Jackie would be to
+keep him out of his way. If he gets divorced and marries another woman he
+will forget all about Jackie."
+
+"Yes, that might be," said Esther, and Fred pursued his advantage. But,
+interrupting him, Esther said--
+
+"Anyway, Jackie would lose all his father's money; the public-house
+would--"
+
+"So you're going to live in a public-house, Esther?"
+
+"A woman must be with her husband."
+
+"But he's not your husband; he's another woman's husband."
+
+"He's to marry me when he gets his divorce."
+
+"He may desert you and leave you with another child."
+
+"You can't say nothing I ain't thought of already. I must put up with the
+risk. I suppose it is a part of the punishment for the first sin. We can't
+do wrong without being punished--at least women can't. But I thought I'd
+been punished enough."
+
+"The second sin is worse than the first. A married man, Esther--you who I
+thought so religious."
+
+"Ah, religion is easy enough at times, but there is other times when it
+don't seem to fit in with one's duty. I may be wrong, but it seems natural
+like--he's the father of my child."
+
+"I'm afraid your mind is made up, Esther. Think twice before it's too
+late."
+
+"Fred, I can't help myself--can't you see that? Don't make it harder for
+me by talking like that."
+
+"When are you going to him?"
+
+"To-night; he's waiting for me."
+
+"Then good-bye, Esther, good--"
+
+"But you'll come and see us."
+
+"I hope you'll be happy, Esther, but I don't think we shall see much more
+of each other. You know that I do not frequent public-houses."
+
+"Yes, I know; but you might come and see me in the morning when we're
+doing no business."
+
+Fred smiled sadly.
+
+"Then you won't come?" she said.
+
+"Good-bye, Esther."
+
+They shook hands, and he went out hurriedly. She dashed a tear from her
+eyes, and went upstairs to her mistress, who had rung for her.
+
+Miss Rice was in her easy-chair, reading. A long, slanting ray entered the
+room; the bead curtain glittered, and so peaceful was the impression that
+Esther could not but perceive the contrast between her own troublous life
+and the contented privacy of this slender little spinster's.
+
+"Well, miss," she said, "it's all over. I've told him."
+
+"Have you, Esther?" said Miss Rice. Her white, delicate hands fell over
+the closed volume. She wore two little colourless rings and a ruby ring
+which caught the light.
+
+"Yes, miss, I've told him all. He seemed a good deal cut up. I couldn't
+help crying myself, for I could have made him a good wife--I'm sure I
+could; but it wasn't to be."
+
+"You've told him you were going off to live with William?"
+
+"Yes, miss; there's nothing like telling the whole truth while you're
+about it. I told him I was going off to-night."
+
+"He's a very religious young man?"
+
+"Yes, miss; he spoke to me about religion, but I told him I didn't want
+Jackie to be a fatherless boy, and to lose any money he might have a right
+to. It don't look right to go and live with a married man; but you knows,
+miss, how I'm situated, and you knows that I'm only doing it because it
+seems for the best."
+
+"What did he say to that?"
+
+"Nothing much, miss, except that I might get left a second time--and, he
+wasn't slow to add, with another child."
+
+"Have you thought of that danger, Esther?"
+
+"Yes, miss, I've thought of everything; but thinking don't change nothing.
+Things remain just the same, and you've to chance it in the end--leastways
+a woman has. Not on the likes of you, miss, but the likes of us."
+
+"Yes," said Miss Rice reflectively, "it is always the woman who is
+sacrificed." And her thought went back for a moment to the novel she was
+writing. It seemed to her pale and conventional compared with this rough
+page torn out of life. She wondered if she could treat the subject. She
+passed in review the names of some writers who could do justice to it, and
+then her eyes went from her bookcase to Esther.
+
+"So you're going to live in a public-house, Esther? You're going to-night?
+I've paid you everything I owe you?"
+
+"Yes, miss, you have; you've been very kind to me, indeed you have,
+miss--I shall never forget you, miss. I've been very happy in your
+service, and should like nothing better than to remain on with you."
+
+"All I can say, Esther, is that you have been a very good servant, and I'm
+very sorry to part with you. And I hope you'll remember if things do not
+turn out as well as you expect them to, that I shall always be glad to do
+anything in my power to help you. You'll always find a friend in me. When
+are you going?"
+
+"As soon as my box is packed, miss, and I shall have about finished by the
+time the new servant comes in. She's expected at nine; there she is,
+miss--that's the area bell. Good-bye, miss."
+
+Miss Rice involuntarily held out her hand. Esther took it, and thus
+encouraged she said--
+
+"There never was anyone that clear-headed and warm-hearted as yerself,
+miss. I may have a lot of trouble, miss.... If I wasn't yer servant I'd
+like to kiss you."
+
+Miss Rice did not answer, and before she was aware, Esther had taken her
+in her arms and kissed her. "You're not angry with me, miss; I couldn't
+help myself."
+
+"No, Esther, I'm not angry."
+
+"I must go now and let her in."
+
+Miss Rice walked towards her writing-table, and a sense of the solitude of
+her life coming upon her suddenly caused her to burst into tears. It was
+one of those moments of effusion which take women unawares. But her new
+servant was coming upstairs and she had to dry her eyes.
+
+Soon after she heard the cabman's feet on the staircase as he went up for
+Esther's box. They brought it down together, and Miss Rice heard her beg
+of him to be careful of the paint. The girl had been a good and faithful
+servant to her; she was sorry to lose her. And Esther was equally sorry
+that anyone but herself should have the looking after of that dear, kind
+soul. But what could she do? She was going to be married. She did not
+doubt that William was going to marry her; and the cab had hardly entered
+the Brompton Road when her thoughts were fully centred in the life that
+awaited her. This sudden change of feeling surprised her, and she excused
+herself with the recollection that she had striven hard for Fred, but as
+she had failed to get him, it was only right that she should think of her
+husband. Then quite involuntarily the thought sprang upon her that he was
+a fine fellow, and she remembered the line of his stalwart figure as he
+walked down the street. There would be a parlour behind the bar, in which
+she would sit. She would be mistress of the house. There would be a
+servant, a potboy, and perhaps a barmaid.
+
+The cab swerved round the Circus, and she wondered if she were capable of
+conducting a business like the "King's Head."
+
+It was the end of a fine September evening, and the black, crooked
+perspectives of Soho seemed as if they were roofed with gold. A slight
+mist was rising, and at the end of every street the figures appeared and
+disappeared mysteriously in blue shadow. She had never been in this part
+of London before; the adventure stimulated her imagination, and she
+wondered where she was going and which of the many public-houses was hers.
+But the cabman jingled past every one. It seemed as if he were never going
+to pull up. At last he stopped at the corner of Dean Street and Old
+Compton Street, nearly opposite a cab rank. The cabmen were inside, having
+a glass; the usual vagrant was outside, looking after the horses. He
+offered to take down Esther's box, and when she asked him if he had seen
+Mr. Latch he took her round to the private bar. The door was pushed open,
+and Esther saw William leaning over the counter wrapped in conversation
+with a small, thin man. They were both smoking, their glasses were filled,
+and the sporting paper was spread out before them.
+
+"Oh, so here you are at last," said William, coming towards her. "I
+expected you an hour ago."
+
+"The new servant was late, and I couldn't leave before she came."
+
+"Never mind; glad you've come."
+
+Esther felt that the little man was staring hard at her. He was John
+Randal, or Mr. Leopold, as they used to call him at Barfield.
+
+Mr. Leopold shook hands with Esther, and he muttered a "Glad to see you
+again," But it was the welcome of a man who regards a woman's presence as
+an intrusion, and Esther understood the quiet contempt with which he
+looked at William. "Can't keep away from them," his face said for one
+brief moment. William asked Esther what she'd take to drink, and Mr.
+Leopold looked at his watch and said he must be getting home.
+
+"Try to come round to-morrow night if you've an hour to spare."
+
+"Then you don't think you'll go to Newmarket?"
+
+"No, I don't think I shall do much in the betting way this year. But come
+round to-morrow night if you can; you'll find me here. I must be here
+to-morrow night," he said, turning to Esther; "I'll tell you presently."
+Then the men had a few more words, and William bade John good-night.
+Coming back to Esther, he said--
+
+"What do you think of the place? Cosy, ain't it?" But before she had time
+to reply he said, "You've brought me good luck. I won two 'undred and
+fifty pounds to-day, and the money will come in very 'andy, for Jim
+Stevens, that's my partner, has agreed to take half the money on account
+and a bill of sale for the rest. There he is; I'll introduce you to him.
+Jim, come this way, will you?"
+
+"In a moment, when I've finished drawing this 'ere glass of beer,"
+answered a thick-set, short-limbed man. He was in his shirt-sleeves, and
+he crossed the bar wiping the beer from his hands.
+
+"Let me introduce you to a very particular friend of mine, Jim, Miss
+Waters."
+
+"Very 'appy, I'm sure, to make your acquaintance," said Jim, and he
+extended his fat hand across the counter. "You and my partner are, I 'ear,
+going to take this 'ere 'ouse off my hands. Well, you ought to make a good
+thing of it. There's always room for a 'ouse that supplies good liquor.
+What can I hoffer you, madam? Some of our whisky has been fourteen years
+in bottle; or, being a lady, perhaps you'd like to try some of our best
+unsweetened."
+
+Esther declined, but William said they could not leave without drinking
+the health of the house.
+
+"Irish or Scotch, ma'am? Mr. Latch drinks Scotch."
+
+Seeing that she could not avoid taking something, Esther decided that she
+would try the unsweetened. The glasses were clinked across the counter,
+and William whispered, "This isn't what we sell to the public; this is our
+own special tipple. You didn't notice, perhaps, but he took the bottle
+from the third row on the left."
+
+At that moment Esther's cabman came in and wanted to know if he was to
+have the box taken down. William said it had better remain where it was.
+
+"I don't think I told you I'm not living here; my partner has the upper
+part of the house, but he says he'll be ready to turn out at the end of
+the week. I'm living in lodgings near Shaftesbury Avenue, so we'd better
+keep the cab on."
+
+Esther looked disappointed, but said nothing. William said he'd stand the
+cabby a drink, and, winking at Esther, he whispered, "Third row on the
+left, partner."
+
+
+
+
+XXX
+
+
+The "King's Head" was an humble place in the old-fashioned style. The
+house must have been built two hundred years, and the bar seemed as if it
+had been dug out of the house. The floor was some inches lower than the
+street, and the ceiling was hardly more than a couple of feet above the
+head of a tall man. Nor was it divided by numerous varnished partitions,
+according to the latest fashion. There were but three. The private
+entrance was in Dean Street, where a few swells came over from the theatre
+and called for brandies-and-sodas. There was a little mahogany what-not on
+the counter, and Esther served her customers between the little shelves.
+The public entrance and the jug and bottle entrance were in a side street.
+There was no parlour for special customers at the back, and the public bar
+was inconveniently crowded by a dozen people. The "King's Head" was not an
+up-to-date public-house. It had, however, one thing in its favour--it was
+a free house, and William said they had only to go on supplying good
+stuff, and trade would be sure to come back to them. For their former
+partner had done them much harm by systematic adulteration, and a little
+way down the street a new establishment, with painted tiles and brass
+lamps, had been opened, and was attracting all the custom of the
+neighbourhood. She was more anxious than William to know what loss the
+books showed; she was jealous of the profits of his turf account, and when
+he laughed at her she said, "But you're never here in the daytime, you do
+not have these empty bars staring you in the face morning and afternoon."
+And then she would tell him: a dozen pots of beer about dinner-time, a few
+glasses of bitter--there had been a rehearsal over the way--and that was
+about all.
+
+The bars were empty, and the public-house dozed through the heavy heat of
+a summer afternoon. Esther sat behind the bar sewing, waiting for Jackie
+to come home from school. William was away at Newmarket. The clock struck
+five and Jackie peeped through the doors, dived under the counter, and ran
+into his mother's arms.
+
+"Well, did you get full marks to-day?"
+
+"Yes, mummie, I got full marks."
+
+"That's a good boy--and you want your tea?"
+
+"Yes, mummie; I'm that hungry I could hardly walk home."
+
+"Hardly walk home! What, as bad as that?"
+
+"Yes, mummie. There's a new shop open in Oxford Street. The window is all
+full of boats. Do you think that if all the favourites were to be beaten
+for a month, father would buy me one?"
+
+"I thought you was so hungry you couldn't walk home, dear?"
+
+"Well, mummie, so I was, but----"
+
+Esther laughed. "Well, come this way and have your tea." She went into the
+parlour and rang the bell.
+
+"Mummie, may I have buttered toast?"
+
+"Yes, dear, you may."
+
+"And may I go downstairs and help Jane to make it?"
+
+"Yes, you can do that too; it will save her the trouble of coming up. Let
+me take off your coat--give me your hat; now run along, and help Jane to
+make the toast."
+
+Esther opened a glass door, curtained with red silk; it led from the bar
+to the parlour, a tiny room, hardly larger than the private bar, holding
+with difficulty a small round table, three chairs, an arm-chair, a
+cupboard. In the morning a dusty window let in a melancholy twilight, but
+early in the afternoon it became necessary to light the gas. Esther took a
+cloth from the cupboard, and laid the table for Jackie's tea. He came up
+the kitchen stairs telling Jane how many marbles he had won, and at that
+moment voices were heard in the bar.
+
+It was William, tall and gaunt, buttoned up in a grey frock-coat, a pair
+of field glasses slung over his shoulders. He was with his clerk, Ted
+Blamy, a feeble, wizen little man, dressed in a shabby tweed suit, covered
+with white dust.
+
+"Put that bag down, Teddy, and come and have a drink."
+
+Esther saw at once that things had not gone well with him.
+
+"Have the favourites been winning?"
+
+"Yes, every bloody one. Five first favourites straight off the reel, three
+yesterday, and two second favourites the day before. By God, no man can
+stand up against it. Come, what'll you have to drink, Teddy?"
+
+"A little whisky, please, guv'nor."
+
+The men had their drink. Then William told Teddy to take his bag upstairs,
+and he followed Esther into the parlour. She could see that he had been
+losing heavily, but she refrained from asking questions.
+
+"Now, Jackie, you keep your father company; tell him how you got on at
+school. I'm going downstairs to look after his dinner."
+
+"Don't you mind about my dinner, Esther, don't you trouble; I was thinking
+of dining at a restaurant. I'll be back at nine."
+
+"Then I'll see nothing of you. We've hardly spoken to one another this
+week; all the day you're away racing, and in the evening you're talking to
+your friends over the bar. We never have a moment alone."
+
+"Yes, Esther, I know; but the truth is, I'm a bit down in the mouth. I've
+had a very bad week. The favourites has been winning, and I overlaid my
+book against Wheatear; I'd heard that she was as safe as 'ouses. I'll meet
+some pals down at the 'Cri'; it will cheer me up."
+
+Seeing how disappointed she was, he hesitated, and asked what there was
+for dinner. "A sole and a nice piece of steak; I'm sure you'll like it.
+I've a lot to talk to you about. Do stop, Bill, to please me." She was
+very winning in her quiet, grave way, so he took her in his arms, kissed
+her, and said he would stop, that no one could cook a sole as she could,
+that it gave him an appetite to think of it.
+
+"And may I stop with father while you are cooking his dinner?" said
+Jackie.
+
+"Yes, you can do that; but you must go to bed when I bring it upstairs. I
+want to talk with father then."
+
+Jackie seemed quite satisfied with this arrangement, but when Esther came
+upstairs with the sole, and was about to hand him over to Jane, he begged
+lustily to be allowed to remain until father had finished his fish. "It
+won't matter to you," he said; "you've to go downstairs to fry the steak."
+
+But when she came up with the steak he was unwilling as ever to leave. She
+said he must go to bed, and he knew from her tone that argument was
+useless. As a last consolation, she promised him that she would come
+upstairs and kiss him before he went to sleep.
+
+"You will come, won't you, mummie? I shan't go to sleep till you do."
+Esther and William both laughed, and Esther was pleased, for she was still
+a little jealous of his love for his father.
+
+"Come along," Jackie cried to Jane, and he ran upstairs, chattering to her
+about the toys he had seen in Oxford Street. Charles was lighting the gas,
+and Esther had to go into the bar to serve some customers. When she
+returned, William was smoking his pipe. Her dinner had had its effect, he
+had forgotten his losses, and was willing to tell her the news. He had a
+bit of news for her. He had seen Ginger; Ginger had come up as cordial as
+you like, and had asked him what price he was laying.
+
+"Did he bet with you?"
+
+"Yes, I laid him ten pounds to five."
+
+Once more William began to lament his luck. "You'll have better luck
+to-morrow," she said. "The favourites can't go on winning. Tell me about
+Ginger."
+
+"There isn't much to tell. We'd a little chat. He knew all about the
+little arrangement, the five hundred, you know, and laughed heartily.
+Peggy's married. I've forgotten the chap's name."
+
+"The one that you kicked downstairs?"
+
+"No, not him; I can't think of it. No matter, Ginger remembered you; he
+wished us luck, took the address, and said he'd come in to-night to see
+you if he possibly could. I don't think he's been doing too well lately,
+if he had he'd been more stand-offish. I saw Jimmy White--you remember
+Jim, the little fellow we used to call the Demon, 'e that won the
+Stewards' Cup on Silver Braid?... Didn't you and 'e 'ave a tussle together
+at the end of dinner--the first day you come down from town?"
+
+"The second day it was."
+
+"You're right, it was the second day. The first day I met you in the
+avenue I was leaning over the railings having a smoke, and you come along
+with a heavy bundle and asked me the way. I wasn't in service at that
+time. Good Lord, how time does slip by! It seems like yesterday.... And
+after all those years to meet you as you was going to the public for a jug
+of beer, and 'ere we are man and wife sitting side by side in our own
+'ouse."
+
+Esther had been in the "King's Head" now nearly a year. The first Mrs.
+Latch had got her divorce without much difficulty; and Esther had begun to
+realise that she had got a good husband long before they slipped round to
+the nearest registry office and came back man and wife.
+
+Charles opened the door. "Mr. Randal is in the bar, sir, and would like to
+have a word with you."
+
+"All right," said William. "Tell him I'm coming into the bar presently."
+Charles withdrew. "I'm afraid," said William, lowering his voice, "that
+the old chap is in a bad way. He's been out of a place a long while, and
+will find it 'ard to get back again. Once yer begin to age a bit, they
+won't look at you. We're both well out of business."
+
+Mr. Randal sat in his favourite corner by the wall, smoking his clay. He
+wore a large frock-coat, vague in shape, pathetically respectable. The
+round hat was greasy round the edges, brown and dusty on top. The shirt
+was clean but unstarched, and the thin throat was tied with an old black
+silk cravat. He looked himself, the old servant out of situation--the old
+servant who would never be in situation again.
+
+"Been 'aving an 'ell of a time at Newmarket," said William; "favourites
+romping in one after the other."
+
+"I saw that the favourites had been winning. But I know of something, a
+rank outsider, for the Leger. I got the letter this morning. I thought I'd
+come round and tell yer."
+
+"Much obliged, old mate, but it don't do for me to listen to such tales;
+we bookmakers must pay no attention to information, no matter how correct
+it may be.... Much obliged all the same. What are you drinking?"
+
+"I've not finished my glass yet." He tossed off the last mouthful.
+
+"The same?" said William.
+
+"Yes, thank you."
+
+William drew two glasses of porter. "Here's luck." The men nodded, drank,
+and then William turned to speak to a group at the other end of the bar.
+"One moment," John said, touching William on the shoulder. "It is the best
+tip I ever had in my life. I 'aven't forgotten what I owe you, and if this
+comes off I'll be able to pay you all back. Lay the odds, twenty
+sovereigns to one against--" Old John looked round to see that no one was
+within ear-shot, then he leant forward and whispered the horse's name in
+William's ear. William laughed. "If you're so sure about it as all that,"
+he said, "I'd sooner lend you the quid to back the horse elsewhere."
+
+"Will you lend me a quid?"
+
+"Lend you a quid and five first favourites romping in one after
+another!--you must take me for Baron Rothschild. You think because I've a
+public-house I'm coining money; well, I ain't. It's cruel the business we
+do here. You wouldn't believe it, and you know that better liquor can't be
+got in the neighbourhood." Old John listened with the indifference of a
+man whose life is absorbed in one passion and who can interest himself
+with nothing else. Esther asked him after Mrs. Randal and his children,
+but conversation on the subject was always disagreeable to him, and he
+passed it over with few words. As soon as Esther moved away he leant
+forward and whispered, "Lay me twelve pounds to ten shillings. I'll be
+sure to pay you; there's a new restaurant going to open in Oxford Street
+and I'm going to apply for the place of headwaiter."
+
+"Yes, but will you get it?" William answered brutally. He did not mean to
+be unkind, but his nature was as hard and as plain as a kitchen-table. The
+chin dropped into the unstarched collar and the old-fashioned necktie, and
+old John continued smoking unnoticed by any one. Esther looked at him. She
+saw he was down on his luck, and she remembered the tall, melancholy,
+pale-faced woman whom she had met weeping by the sea-shore the day that
+Silver Braid had won the cup. She wondered what had happened to her, in
+what corner did she live, and where was the son that John Randal had not
+allowed to enter the Barfield establishment as page-boy, thinking he would
+be able to make something better of him than a servant.
+
+The regular customers had begun to come in. Esther greeted them with nods
+and smiles of recognition. She drew the beer two glasses at once in her
+hand, and picked up little zinc measures, two and four of whisky, and
+filled them from a small tap. She usually knew the taste of her customers.
+When she made a mistake she muttered "stupid," and Mr. Ketley was much
+amused at her forgetting that he always drank out of the bottle; he was
+one of the few who came to the "King's Head" who could afford sixpenny
+whisky. "I ought to have known by this time," she said. "Well, mistakes
+will occur in the best regulated families," the little butterman replied.
+He was meagre and meek, with a sallow complexion and blond beard. His pale
+eyes were anxious, and his thin, bony hands restless. His general manner
+was oppressed, and he frequently raised his hat to wipe his forehead,
+which was high and bald. At his elbow stood Journeyman, Ketley's very
+opposite. A tall, harsh, angular man, long features, a dingy complexion,
+and the air of a dismissed soldier. He held a glass of whisky-and-water in
+a hairy hand, and bit at the corner of a brown moustache. He wore a
+threadbare black frock-coat, and carried a newspaper under his arm. Ketley
+and Journeyman held widely different views regarding the best means of
+backing horses. Ketley was preoccupied with dreams and omens; Journeyman,
+a clerk in the parish registry office, studied public form; he was guided
+by it in all his speculations, and paid little heed to the various rumours
+always afloat regarding private trials. Public form he admitted did not
+always come out right, but if a man had a headpiece and could remember all
+the running, public form was good enough to follow. Racing with Journeyman
+was a question of calculation, and great therefore was his contempt for
+the weak and smiling Ketley, whom he went for on all occasions. But Ketley
+was pluckier than his appearance indicated, and the duels between the two
+were a constant source of amusement in the bar of the "King's Head."
+
+"Well, Herbert, the omen wasn't altogether up to the mark this time," said
+Journeyman, with a malicious twinkle in his small brown eyes.
+
+"No, it was one of them unfortunate accidents."
+
+"One of them unfortunate accidents," repeated Journeyman, derisively;
+"what's accidents to do with them that 'as to do with the reading of
+omens? I thought they rose above such trifles as weights, distances, bad
+riding.... A stone or two should make no difference if the omen is right."
+
+Ketley was no way put out by the slight titter that Journeyman's retort
+had produced in the group about the bar. He drank his whisky-and-water
+deliberately, like one, to use a racing expression, who had been over the
+course before.
+
+"I've 'eard that argument. I know all about it, but it don't alter me. Too
+many strange things occur for me to think that everything can be
+calculated with a bit of lead-pencil in a greasy pocket-book."
+
+"What has the grease of my pocket-book to do with it?" replied Journeyman,
+looking round. The company smiled and nodded. "You says that signs and
+omens is above any calculation of weights. Never mind the pocket-book,
+greasy or not greasy; you says that these omens is more to be depended on
+than the best stable information."
+
+"I thought that you placed no reliance on stable information, and that you
+was guided by the weights that you calculated in that 'ere pocket-book."
+
+"What's my pocket-book to do with it? You want to see my pocket-book;
+well, here it is, and I'll bet two glasses of beer that it ain't greasier
+than any other pocket-book in this bar."
+
+"I don't see meself what pocket-books, greasy or not greasy, has to do
+with it," said William. "Walter put a fair question to Herbert. The omen
+didn't come out right, and Walter wanted to know why it didn't come out
+right."
+
+"That was it," said Journeyman.
+
+All eyes were now fixed on Ketley. "You want to know why the omen wasn't
+right? I'll tell you--because it was no omen at all, that's why. The omens
+always comes right; it is we who aren't always in the particular state of
+mind that allows us to read the omens right." Journeyman shrugged his
+shoulders contemptuously. Ketley looked at him with the same expression of
+placid amusement. "You'd like me to explain; well, I will. The omen is
+always right, but we aren't always in the state of mind for the reading of
+the omen. You think that ridiculous, Walter; but why should omens differ
+from other things? Some days we can get through our accounts in 'alf the
+time we can at other times, the mind being clearer. I asks all present if
+that is not so."
+
+Ketley had got hold of his audience, and Journeyman's remark about closing
+time only provoked a momentary titter. Ketley looked long and steadily at
+Journeyman and then said, "Perhaps closing time won't do no more for your
+calculation of weights than for my omens.... I know them jokes, we've
+'eard them afore; but I'm not making jokes; I'm talking serious." The
+company nodded approval. "I was saying there was times when the mind is
+fresh like the morning. That's the time for them what 'as got the gift of
+reading the omens. It is a sudden light that comes into the mind, and it
+points straight like a ray of sunlight, if there be nothing to stop it....
+Now do you understand?" No one had understood, but all felt that they were
+on the point of understanding. "The whole thing is in there being nothing
+to interrupt the light."
+
+"But you says yourself that yer can't always read them," said Journeyman;
+"an accident will send you off on the wrong tack, so it all comes to the
+same thing, omens or no omens."
+
+"A man will trip over a piece of wire laid across the street, but that
+don't prove he can't walk, do it, Walter?"
+
+Walter was unable to say that it did not, and so Ketley scored another
+point over his opponent. "I made a mistake, I know I did, and if it will
+help you to understand I'll tell you how it was made. Three weeks ago I
+was in this 'ere bar 'aving what I usually takes. It was a bit early; none
+of you fellows had come in. I don't think it was much after eight. The
+governor was away in the north racin'--hadn't been 'ome for three or four
+days; the missus was beginning to look a bit lonely." Ketley smiled and
+glanced at Esther, who had told Charles to serve some customers, and was
+listening as intently as the rest. "I'd 'ad a nice bit of supper, and was
+just feeling that fresh and clear 'eaded as I was explaining to you just
+now is required for the reading, thinking of nothing in perticler, when
+suddenly the light came. I remembered a conversation I 'ad with a chap
+about American corn. He wouldn't 'ear of the Government taxing corn to
+'elp the British farmer. Well, that conversation came back to me as clear
+as if the dawn had begun to break. I could positively see the bloody corn;
+I could pretty well 'ave counted it. I felt there was an omen about
+somewhere, and all of a tremble I took up the paper; it was lying on the
+bar just where your hand is, Walter. But at that moment, just as I was
+about to cast my eye down the list of 'orses, a cab comes down the street
+as 'ard as it could tear. There was but two or three of us in the bar, and
+we rushed out--the shafts was broke, 'orse galloping and kicking, and the
+cabby 'olding on as 'ard as he could. But it was no good, it was bound to
+go, and over it went against the kerb. The cabby, poor chap, was pretty
+well shook to pieces; his leg was broke, and we'd to 'elp to take him to
+the hosspital. Now I asks if it was no more than might be expected that I
+should have gone wrong about the omen. Next day, as luck would have it, I
+rolled up 'alf a pound of butter in a piece of paper on which 'Cross
+Roads' was written."
+
+"But if there had been no accident and you 'ad looked down the list of
+'orses, 'ow do yer know that yer would 'ave spotted the winner?"
+
+"What, not Wheatear, and with all that American corn in my 'ead? Is it
+likely I'd've missed it?"
+
+No one answered, and Ketley drank his whisky in the midst of a most
+thoughtful silence. At last one of the group said, and he seemed to
+express the general mind of the company--
+
+"I don't know if omens be worth a-following of, but I'm blowed if 'orses
+be worth backing if the omens is again them."
+
+His neighbour answered, "And they do come wonderful true occasional. They
+'as 'appened to me, and I daresay to all 'ere present." The company
+nodded. "You've noticed how them that knows nothing at all about
+'orses--the less they knows the better their luck--will look down the lot
+and spot the winner from pure fancy--the name that catches their eyes as
+likely."
+
+"There's something in it," said a corpulent butcher with huge, pursy,
+prominent eyes and a portentous stomach. "I always held with going to
+church, and I hold still more with going to church since I backed Vanity
+for the Chester Cup. I was a-falling asleep over the sermon, when suddenly
+I wakes up hearing, 'Vanity of vanities, and all is vanity.'"
+
+Several similar stories were told, and then various systems for backing
+horses were discussed. "You don't believe that no 'orses is pulled?" said
+Mr. Stack, the porter at Sutherland Mansions, Oxford Street, a large,
+bluff man, wearing a dark blue square-cut frock coat with brass buttons. A
+curious-looking man, with red-stained skin, dark beady eyes, a scanty
+growth of beard, and a loud, assuming voice. "You don't believe that no
+'orses is pulled?" he reiterated.
+
+"I didn't say that no 'orse was never pulled," said Journeyman. He stood
+with his back leaning against the partition, his long legs stretched out.
+"If one was really in the know, then I don't say nothing about it; but who
+of us is ever really in the know?"
+
+"I'm not so sure about that," said Mr. Stack. "There's a young man in my
+mansions that 'as a servant; this servant's cousin, a girl in the country,
+keeps company with one of the lads in the White House stable. If that
+ain't good enough, I don't know what is; good enough for my half-crown and
+another pint of beer too, Mrs. Latch, as you'll be that kind."
+
+Esther drew the beer, and Old John, who had said nothing till now,
+suddenly joined in the conversation. He too had heard of something; he
+didn't know if it was the same as Stack had heard of; he didn't expect it
+was. It couldn't very well be, 'cause no one knew of this particular
+horse, not a soul!--not 'alf-a-dozen people in the world. No, he would
+tell no one until his money and the stable money was all right. And he
+didn't care for no half-crowns or dollars this time, if he couldn't get a
+sovereign or two on the horse he'd let it alone. This time he'd be a man
+or a mouse. Every one was listening intently, but old John suddenly
+assumed an air of mystery and refused to say another word. The
+conversation worked back whither it had started, and again the best method
+of backing horses was passionately discussed. Interrupting someone whose
+theories seemed intolerably ludicrous, Journeyman said--
+
+"Let's 'ear what's the governor's opinion; he ought to know what kind of
+backer gets the most out of him."
+
+Journeyman's proposal to submit the question to the governor met with very
+general approval. Even the vagrant who had taken his tankard of porter to
+the bench where he could drink and eat what fragments of food he had
+collected, came forward, interested to know what kind of backer got most
+out of the bookmaker.
+
+"Well," said William, "I haven't been making a book as long as some of
+them, but since you ask me what I think I tell you straight. I don't care
+a damn whether they backs according to their judgment, or their dreams, or
+their fancy. The cove that follows favourites, or the cove that backs a
+jockey's mount, the cove that makes an occasional bet when he hears of a
+good thing, the cove that bets regular, 'cording to a system--the cove,
+yer know, what doubles every time--or the cove that bets as the mood takes
+him--them and all the other coves, too numerous to be mentioned, I'm glad
+to do business with. I cries out to one as 'eartily as to another: 'The
+old firm, the old firm, don't forget the old firm.... What can I do for
+you to-day, sir?' There's but one sort of cove I can't abide."
+
+"And he is--" said Journeyman.
+
+"He is Mr. George Buff."
+
+"Who's he? who's he?" asked several; and the vagrant caused some amusement
+by the question, "Do 'e bet on the course?"
+
+"Yes, he do," said William, "an' nowhere else. He's at every meeting as
+reg'lar as if he was a bookie himself. I 'ates to see his face.... I'd be
+a rich man if I'd all the money that man 'as 'ad out of me in the last
+three years."
+
+"What should you say was his system?" asked Mr. Stack.
+
+"I don't know no more than yerselves."
+
+This admission seemed a little chilling; for everyone had thought himself
+many steps nearer El Dorado.
+
+"But did you ever notice," said Mr. Ketley, "that there was certain days
+on which he bet?"
+
+"No, I never noticed that."
+
+"Are they outsiders that he backs?" asked Stack.
+
+"No, only favourites. But what I can't make out is that there are times
+when he won't touch them; and when he don't, nine times out of ten they're
+beaten."
+
+"Are the 'orses he backs what you'd call well in?" said Journeyman.
+
+"Not always."
+
+"Then it must be on information from the stable authorities?" said Stack.
+
+"I dun know," said William; "have it that way if you like, but I'm glad
+there ain't many about like him. I wish he'd take his custom elsewhere. He
+gives me the solid hump, he do."
+
+"What sort of man should you say he was? 'as he been a servant, should you
+say?" asked old John.
+
+"I can't tell you what he is. Always new suit of clothes and a hie-glass.
+Whenever I see that 'ere hie-glass and that brown beard my heart goes down
+in my boots. When he don't bet he takes no notice, walks past with a vague
+look on his face, as if he didn't see the people, and he don't care that
+for the 'orses. Knowing he don't mean no business, I cries to him, 'The
+best price, Mr. Buff; two to one on the field, ten to one bar two or
+three.' He just catches his hie-glass tighter in eye and looks at me,
+smiles, shakes his head, and goes on. He is a warm 'un; he is just about
+as 'ot as they make 'em."
+
+"What I can't make out," said Journeyman, "is why he bets on the course.
+You say he don't know nothing about horses. Why don't he remain at 'ome
+and save the exes?"
+
+"I've thought of all that," said William, "and can't make no more out of
+it than you can yerselves. All we know is that, divided up between five or
+six of us, Buff costs not far short of six 'undred a year."
+
+At that moment a small blond man came into the bar. Esther knew him at
+once. It was Ginger. He had hardly changed at all--a little sallower, a
+little dryer, a trifle less like a gentleman.
+
+"Won't you step round, sir, to the private bar?" said William. "You'll be
+more comfortable."
+
+"Hardly worth while. I was at the theatre, and I thought I'd come in and
+have a look round.... I see that you haven't forgotten the old horses," he
+said, catching sight of the prints of Silver Braid and Summer's Dean which
+William had hung on the wall. "That was a great day, wasn't it? Fifty to
+one chance, started at thirty; and you remember the Gaffer tried him to
+win with twenty pound more than he had to carry.... Hullo, John! very glad
+to see you again; growing strong and well, I hope?"
+
+The old servant looked so shabby that Esther was not surprised that Ginger
+did not shake hands with him. She wondered if he would remember her, and
+as the thought passed through her mind he extended his hand across the
+bar.
+
+"I 'ope I may have the honour of drinking a glass of wine with you, sir,"
+said William. Ginger raised no objection, and William told Esther to go
+down-stairs and fetch up a bottle of champagne.
+
+Ketley, Journeyman, Stack, and the others listened eagerly. To meet the
+celebrated gentleman-rider was a great event in their lives. But the
+conversation was confined to the Barfield horses; it was carried on by the
+merest allusion, and Journeyman wearied of it. He said he must be getting
+home; the others nodded, finished their glasses, and bade William
+good-night as they left. A couple of flower-girls with loose hair, shawls,
+and trays of flowers, suggestive of streetfaring, came in and ordered four
+ale. They spoke to the vagrant, who collected his match-boxes in
+preparation for a last search for charity. William cut the wires of the
+champagne, and at that moment Charles, who had gone through with the
+ladder to turn out the street lamp, returned with a light overcoat on his
+arm which he said a cove outside wanted to sell him for two-and-six.
+
+"Do you know him?" said William.
+
+"Yes, I knowed him. I had to put him out the other night--Bill Evans, the
+cove that wears the blue Melton."
+
+The swing doors were opened, and a man between thirty and forty came in.
+He was about the medium height; a dark olive skin, black curly hair,
+picturesque and disreputable, like a bird of prey in his blue Melton
+jacket and billycock hat.
+
+"You'd better 'ave the coat," he said; "you won't better it;" and coming
+into the bar he planked down a penny as if it were a sovereign. "Glass of
+porter; nice warm weather, good for the 'arvest. Just come up from the
+country--a bit dusty, ain't I?"
+
+"Ain't you the chap," said William, "what laid Mr. Ketley six 'alf-crowns
+to one against Cross Roads?"
+
+Charles nodded, and William continued--
+
+"I like your cheek coming into my bar."
+
+"No harm done, gov'nor; no one was about; wouldn't 'ave done it if they
+had."
+
+"That'll do," said William. "... No, he don't want the coat. We likes to
+know where our things comes from."
+
+Bill Evans finished his glass. "Good-night, guv'nor; no ill-feeling."
+
+The flower-girls laughed; one offered him a flower. "Take it for love,"
+she said. He was kind enough to do so, and the three went out together.
+
+"I don't like the looks of that chap," said William, and he let go the
+champagne cork. "Yer health, sir." They raised their glasses, and the
+conversation turned on next week's racing.
+
+"I dun know about next week's events," said old John, "but I've heard of
+something for the Leger--an outsider will win."
+
+"Have you backed it?"
+
+"I would if I had the money, but things have been going very unlucky with
+me lately. But I'd advise you, sir, to have a trifle on. It's the best tip
+I 'ave had in my life."
+
+"Really!" said Ginger, beginning to feel interested, "so I will, and so
+shall you. I'm damned if you shan't have your bit on. Come, what is it?
+William will lay the odds. What is it?"
+
+"Briar Rose, the White House stable, sir."
+
+"Why, I thought that--"
+
+"No such thing, sir; Briar Rose's the one."
+
+Ginger took up the paper. "Twenty-five to one Briar Rose taken."
+
+"You see, sir, it was taken."
+
+"Will you lay the price, William--twenty-five half-sovereigns to one?"
+
+"Yes, I'll lay it."
+
+Ginger took a half-sovereign from his pocket and handed it to the
+bookmaker.
+
+"I never take money over this bar. You're good for a thin 'un, sir,"
+William said, with a smile, as he handed back the money.
+
+"But I don't know when I shall see you again," said Ginger. "It will be
+very inconvenient. There's no one in the bar."
+
+"None but the match-seller and them two flower-girls. I suppose they don't
+matter?"
+
+Happiness flickered up through the old greyness of the face. Henceforth
+something to live for. Each morning bringing news of the horse, and the
+hours of the afternoon passing pleasantly, full of thoughts of the evening
+paper and the gossip of the bar. A bet on a race brings hope into lives
+which otherwise would be hopeless.
+
+
+
+
+XXXI
+
+
+Never had a Derby excited greater interest. Four hot favourites, between
+which the public seemed unable to choose. Two to one taken and offered
+against Fly-leaf, winner of the Two Thousand; four to one taken and
+offered against Signet-ring, who, half-trained, had run Fly-leaf to a
+head. Four to one against Necklace, the winner of the Middle Park Plate
+and the One Thousand. Seven to one against Dewberry, the brilliant winner
+of the Newmarket stakes. The chances of these horses were argued every
+night at the "King's Head." Ketley's wife used to wear a string of yellow
+beads when she was a girl, but she wasn't certain what had become of them.
+Ketley did not wear a signet-ring, and had never known anyone who did.
+Dewberries grew on the river banks, but they were not ripe yet. Fly-leaf,
+he could not make much of that--not being much of a reader. So what with
+one thing and another Ketley didn't believe much in this 'ere Derby.
+Journeyman caustically remarked that, omens or no omens, one horse was
+bound to win. Why didn't Herbert look for an omen among the outsiders? Old
+John's experiences led him to think that the race lay between Fly-leaf and
+Signet-ring. He had a great faith in blood, and Signet-ring came of a more
+staying stock than did Fly-leaf. "When they begin to climb out of the dip
+Fly-leaf will have had about enough of it." Stack nodded approval. He had
+five bob on Dewberry. He didn't know much about his staying powers, but
+all the stable is on him; "and when I know the stable-money is right I
+says, 'That's good enough for me!'"
+
+Ginger, who came in occasionally, was very sweet on Necklace, whom he
+declared to be the finest mare of the century. He was listened to with
+awed attention, and there was a death-like silence in the bar when he
+described how she had won the One Thousand. He wouldn't have ridden her
+quite that way himself; but then what was a steeplechase rider's opinion
+worth regarding a flat race? The company demurred, and old John alluded to
+Ginger's magnificent riding when he won the Liverpool on Foxcover,
+steadying the horse about sixty yards from home, and bringing him up with
+a rush in the last dozen strides, nailing Jim Sutton, who had persevered
+all the way, on the very post by a head. Bill Evans, who happened to look
+in that evening, said that he would not be surprised to see all the four
+favourites bowled out by an outsider. He had heard something that was good
+enough for him. He didn't suppose the guv'nor would take him on the nod,
+but he had a nice watch which ought to be good for three ten.
+
+"Turn it up, old mate," said William.
+
+"All right, guv'nor, I never presses my goods on them that don't want 'em.
+If there's any other gentleman who would like to look at this 'ere
+timepiece, or a pair of sleeve links, they're in for fifteen shillings.
+Here's the ticket. I'm a bit short of money, and have a fancy for a
+certain outsider. I'd like to have my bit on, and I'll dispose of the
+ticket for--what do you say to a thin 'un, Mr. Ketley?"
+
+"Did you 'ear me speak just now?" William answered angrily, "or shall I
+have to get over the counter?"
+
+"I suppose, Mrs. Latch, you have seen a great deal of racing?" said
+Ginger.
+
+"No, sir. I've heard a great deal about racing, but I never saw a race
+run."
+
+"How's that, shouldn't you care?"
+
+"You see, my husband has his betting to attend to, and there's the house
+to look after."
+
+"I never thought of it before," said William. "You've never seen a race
+run, no more you haven't. Would you care to come and see the Derby run
+next week, Esther?"
+
+"I think I should."
+
+At that moment the policeman stopped and looked in. All eyes went up to
+the clock, and Esther said, "We shall lose our licence if----"
+
+"If we don't get out," said Ginger.
+
+William apologised.
+
+"The law is the law, sir, for rich and poor alike; should be sorry to
+hurry you, sir, but in these days very little will lose a man his house.
+Now, Herbert, finish your drink. No, Walter, can't serve any more liquor
+to-night.... Charles, close the private bar, let no one else in.... Now,
+gentlemen, gentlemen."
+
+Old John lit his pipe and led the way. William held the door for them. A
+few minutes after the house was closed.
+
+A locking of drawers, fastening of doors, putting away glasses, making
+things generally tidy, an hour's work before bed-time, and then they
+lighted their candle in the little parlour and went upstairs.
+
+William flung off his coat. "I'm dead beat," he said, "and all this to
+lose----" He didn't finish the sentence. Esther said--
+
+"You've a heavy book on the Derby. Perhaps an outsider'll win."
+
+"I 'ope so.... But if you'd care to see the race, I think it can be
+managed. I shall be busy, but Journeyman or Ketley will look after you."
+
+"I don't know that I should care to walk about all day with Journeyman,
+nor Ketley neither."
+
+They were both tired, and with an occasional remark they undressed and got
+into bed. Esther laid her head on the pillow and closed her eyes....
+
+"I wonder if there's any one going who you'd care for?"
+
+"I don't care a bit about it, Bill." The conversation paused. At the end
+of a long silence William said--
+
+"It do seem strange that you who has been mixed up in it so much should
+never have seen a race." Esther didn't answer. She was falling asleep, and
+William's voice was beginning to sound vague in her ears. Suddenly she
+felt him give her a great shove. "Wake up, old girl, I've got it. Why not
+ask your old pal, Sarah Tucker, to go with us? I heard John say she's out
+of situation. It'll be a nice treat for her."
+
+"Ah.... I should like to see Sarah again."
+
+"You're half asleep."
+
+"No, I'm not; you said we might ask Sarah to come to the Derby with us."
+
+William regretted that he had not a nice trap to drive them down. To hire
+one would run into a deal of money, and he was afraid it might make him
+late on the course. Besides, the road wasn't what it used to be; every one
+goes by train now. They dropped off to sleep talking of how they should
+get Sarah's address.
+
+Three or four days passed, and one morning William jumped out of bed and
+said--
+
+"I think it will be a fine day, Esther." He took out his best suit of
+clothes, and selected a handsome silk scarf for the occasion. Esther was a
+heavy sleeper, and she lay close to the wall, curled up. Taking no notice
+of her, William went on dressing; then he said--
+
+"Now then, Esther, get up. Teddy will be here presently to pack up my
+clothes."
+
+"Is it time to get up?"
+
+"Yes, I should think it was. For God's sake, get up."
+
+She had a new dress for the Derby. It had been bought in Tottenham Court
+Road, and had only come home last night. A real summer dress! A lilac
+pattern on a white ground, the sleeves and throat and the white hat
+tastefully trimmed with lilac and white lace; a nice sunshade to match. At
+that moment a knock came at the door.
+
+"All right, Teddy, wait a moment, my wife's not dressed yet. Do make
+haste, Esther."
+
+Esther stepped into the skirt so as not to ruffle her hair, and she was
+buttoning the bodice when little Mr. Blamy entered.
+
+"Sorry to disturb you, ma'am, but there isn't no time to lose if the
+governor don't want to lose his place on the 'ill."
+
+"Now then, Teddy, make haste, get the toggery out; don't stand there
+talking."
+
+The little man spread the Gladstone bag upon the floor and took a suit of
+checks from the chest of drawers, each square of black and white nearly as
+large as a sixpence.
+
+"You'll wear the green tie, sir?" William nodded. The green tie was a yard
+of flowing sea-green silk. "I've got you a bunch of yellow flowers, sir;
+will you wear them now, or shall I put them in the bag?"
+
+William glanced at the bouquet. "They look a bit loud," he said; "I'll
+wait till we get on the course; put them in the bag."
+
+The card to be worn in the white hat--"William Latch, London," in gold
+letters on a green ground--was laid on top. The boots with soles three
+inches high went into the box on which William stood while he halloaed his
+prices to the crowd. Then there were the two poles which supported a strip
+of white linen, on which was written in gold letters, "William Latch, 'The
+King's Head,' London. Fair prices, prompt payment."
+
+It was a grey day, with shafts of sunlight coming through, and as the cab
+passed over Waterloo Bridge, London, various embankments and St. Paul's on
+one side, wharves and warehouses on the other, appeared in grey curves and
+straight silhouettes. The pavements were lined with young men--here and
+there a girl's dress was a spot of colour in the grey morning. At the
+station they met Journeyman and old John, but Sarah was nowhere to be
+found. William said--
+
+"We shall be late; we shall have to go without her."
+
+Esther's face clouded. "We can't go without her; don't be so impatient."
+At that moment a white muslin was seen in the distance, and Esther said,
+"I think that that's Sarah."
+
+"You can chatter in the train--you'll have a whole hour to talk about each
+other's dress; get in, get in," and William pressed them into a
+third-class carriage. They had not seen each other for so long a while,
+and there was so much to say that they did not know where to begin. Sarah
+was the first to speak.
+
+"I was kind of you to think of me. So you've married, and to him after
+all!" she added, lowering her voice.
+
+Esther laughed. "It do seem strange, don't it?"
+
+"You'll tell me all about it," she said. "I wonder we didn't run across
+one another before."
+
+They rolled out of the grey station into the light, and the plate-glass
+drew the rays together till they burnt the face and hands. They sped
+alongside of the upper windows nearly on a level with the red and yellow
+chimney-pots; they passed open spaces filled with cranes, old iron, and
+stacks of railway sleepers, pictorial advertisements, sky signs, great
+gasometers rising round and black in their iron cages over-topping or
+nearly the slender spires. A train steamed along a hundred-arched viaduct;
+and along a black embankment the other trains rushed by in a whirl of
+wheels, bringing thousands of clerks up from the suburbs to their city
+toil.
+
+The excursion jogged on, stopping for long intervals before strips of
+sordid garden where shirts and pink petticoats were blowing. Little
+streets ascended the hillsides; no more trams, 'buses, too, had
+disappeared, and afoot the folk hurried along the lonely pavements of
+their suburbs. At Clapham Junction betting men had crowded the platform;
+they all wore grey overcoats with race-glasses slung over their shoulders.
+And the train still rolled through the brick wilderness which old John
+said was all country forty years ago.
+
+The men puffed at their pipes, and old John's anecdotes about the days
+when he and the Gaffer, in company with all the great racing men of the
+day, used to drive down by road, were listened to with admiration. Esther
+had finished telling the circumstances in which she had met Margaret; and
+Sarah questioned her about William and how her marriage had come about.
+The train had stopped outside of a little station, and the blue sky, with
+its light wispy clouds, became a topic of conversation. Old John did not
+like the look of those clouds, and the women glanced at the waterproofs
+which they carried on their arms.
+
+They passed bits of common with cows and a stray horse, also a little
+rural cemetery; but London suddenly began again parish after parish, the
+same blue roofs, the same tenement houses. The train had passed the first
+cedar and the first tennis lawn. And knowing it to be a Derby excursion
+the players paused in their play and looked up. Again the line was
+blocked; the train stopped again and again. But it had left London behind,
+and the last stoppage was in front of a beautiful June landscape. A thick
+meadow with a square weather-beaten church showing between the spreading
+trees; miles of green corn, with birds flying in the bright air, and lazy
+clouds going out, making way for the endless blue of a long summer's day.
+
+
+
+
+XXXII
+
+
+It had been arranged that William should don his betting toggery at the
+"Spread Eagle Inn." It stood at the cross-roads, only a little way from
+the station--a square house with a pillared porch. Even at this early hour
+the London pilgrimage was filing by. Horses were drinking in the trough;
+their drivers were drinking in the bar; girls in light dresses shared
+glasses of beer with young men. But the greater number of vehicles passed
+without stopping, anxious to get on the course. They went round the turn
+in long procession, a policeman on a strong horse occupied the middle of
+the road. The waggonettes and coaches had red-coated guards, and the air
+was rent with the tooting of the long brass horns. Every kind of dingy
+trap went by, sometimes drawn by two, sometimes by only one horse--shays
+half a century old jingled along; there were even donkey-carts. Esther and
+Sarah were astonished at the number of costers, but old John told them
+that that was nothing to what it was fifty years ago. The year that
+Andover won the block began seven or eight miles from Epsom. They were
+often half-an-hour without moving. Such chaffing and laughing, the coster
+cracked his joke with the duke, but all that was done away with now.
+
+"Gracious!" said Esther, when William appeared in his betting toggery. "I
+shouldn't have known you."
+
+He did seem very wonderful in his checks, green necktie, yellow flowers,
+and white hat with its gold inscription, "Mr. William Latch, London."
+
+"It's all right," he said; "you never saw me before in these togs--fine,
+ain't they? But we're very late. Mr. North has offered to run me up to the
+course, but he's only two places. Teddy and me must be getting along--but
+you needn't hurry. The races won't begin for hours yet. It's only about a
+mile--a nice walk. These gentlemen will look after you. You know where to
+find me," he said, turning to John and Walter. "You'll look after my wife
+and Miss Tucker, won't you?" and forthwith he and Teddy jumped into a
+waggonette and drove away.
+
+"Well, that's what I calls cheek," said Sarah. "Going off by himself in a
+waggonette and leaving us to foot it."
+
+"He must look after his place on the 'ill or else he'll do no betting,"
+said Journeyman. "We've plenty of time; racing don't begin till after
+one."
+
+Recollections of what the road had once been had loosened John's tongue,
+and he continued his reminiscences of the great days when Sir Thomas
+Hayward had laid fifteen thousand to ten thousand three times over against
+the favourite. The third bet had been laid at this very spot, but the Duke
+would not accept the third bet, saying that the horse was then being
+backed on the course at evens. So Sir Thomas had only lost thirty thousand
+pounds on the race. Journeyman was deeply interested in the anecdote; but
+Sarah looked at the old man with a look that said, "Well, if I'm to pass
+the day with you two I never want to go to the Derby again.... Come on in
+front," she whispered to Esther, "and let them talk about their racing by
+themselves." The way led through a field ablaze with buttercups; it passed
+by a fish-pond into which three drunkards were gazing. "Do you hear what
+they're saying about the fish?" said Sarah.
+
+"Don't pay no attention to them," said Esther. "If you knew as much about
+drunkards as I do, you'd want no telling to give them a wide berth....
+Isn't the country lovely? Isn't the air soft and warm?"
+
+"Oh, I don't want no more country. I'm that glad to get back to town. I
+wouldn't take another situation out of London if I was offered twenty a
+year."
+
+"But look," said Esther, "at the trees. I've hardly been in the country
+since I left Woodview, unless you call Dulwich the country--that's where
+Jackie was at nurse."
+
+The Cockney pilgrimage passed into a pleasant lane overhung with chestnut
+and laburnum trees. The spring had been late, and the white blossoms stood
+up like candles--the yellow dropped like tassels, and the streaming
+sunlight filled the leaves with tints of pale gold, and their light
+shadows patterned the red earth of the pathway. But very soon this
+pleasant pathway debouched on a thirsting roadway where tired horses
+harnessed to heavy vehicles toiled up a long hill leading to the Downs.
+The trees intercepted the view, and the blown dust whitened the foliage
+and the wayside grass, now in possession of hawker and vagrant. The crowd
+made way for the traps; and the young men in blue and grey trousers, and
+their girls in white dresses, turned and watched the four horses bringing
+along the tall drag crowned with London fashion. There the unwieldly
+omnibus and the brake filled with fat girls in pink dresses and yellow
+hats, and there the spring cart drawn up under a hedge. The cottage gates
+were crowded with folk come to see London going to the Derby. Outhouses
+had been converted into refreshment bars, and from these came a smell of
+beer and oranges; further on there was a lamentable harmonium--a blind man
+singing hymns to its accompaniment, and a one-legged man holding his hat
+for alms; and not far away there stood an earnest-eyed woman offering
+tracts, warning folk of their danger, beseeching them to retrace their
+steps.
+
+At last the trees ceased and they found themselves on the hilltop in a
+glare of sunlight, on a space of worn ground where donkeys were tethered.
+
+"Is this the Derby?" said Sarah.
+
+"I hope you're not disappointed?"
+
+"No, dear; but where's all the people--the drags, the carriages?"
+
+"We'll see them presently," said old John, and he volunteered some
+explanations. The white building was the Grand Stand. The winning-post was
+a little further this way.
+
+"Where do they start?" said Sarah.
+
+"Over yonder, where you see that clump. They run through the furze right
+up to Tattenham Corner."
+
+A vast crowd swarmed over the opposite hill, and beyond the crowd the
+women saw a piece of open downland dotted with bushes, and rising in
+gentle incline to a belt of trees which closed the horizon. "Where them
+trees are, that's _Tattenham Corner_." The words seemed to fill old John
+with enthusiasm, and he described how the horses came round this side of
+the trees. "They comes right down that 'ere 'ill--there's the dip--and
+they finishes opposite to where we is standing. Yonder, by Barnard's
+Ring."
+
+"What, all among the people?" said Sarah.
+
+"The police will get the people right back up the hill."
+
+"That's where we shall find William," said Esther.
+
+"I'm getting a bit peckish; ain't you, dear? He's got the
+luncheon-basket.... but, lor', what a lot of people! Look at that."
+
+What had attracted Sarah's attention was a boy walking through the crowd
+on a pair of stilts fully eight feet high. He uttered short warning cries
+from time to time, held out his wide trousers and caught pennies in his
+conical cap. Drags and carriages continued to arrive. The sweating horses
+were unyoked, and grooms and helpers rolled the vehicles into position
+along the rails. Lackeys drew forth cases of wine and provisions, and the
+flutter of table-cloths had begun to attract vagrants, itinerant
+musicians, fortune-tellers, begging children. All these plied their trades
+round the fashion of grey frock-coats and silk sun-shades. Along the rails
+rough fellows lay asleep; the place looked like a vast dormitory; they lay
+with their hats over their faces, clay pipes sticking from under the
+brims, their brown-red hands upon the grey grass.
+
+Suddenly old John pleaded an appointment; he was to meet a friend who
+would give him the very latest news respecting a certain horse; and
+Esther, Sarah, and Journeyman wandered along the course in search of
+William. Along the rails strangely-dressed men stood on stools, satchels
+and race-glasses slung over their shoulders, great bouquets in their
+button-holes. Each stood between two poles on which was stretched a piece
+of white-coloured linen, on which was inscribed their name in large gold
+letters. Sarah read some of these names out: "Jack Hooper, Marylebone. All
+bets paid." "Tom Wood's famous boxing rooms, Epsom." "James Webster,
+Commission Agent, London." And these betting men bawled the prices from
+the top of their high stools and shook their satchels, which were filled
+with money, to attract custom. "What can I do for you to-day, sir?" they
+shouted when they caught the eye of any respectably-dressed man. "On the
+Der-by, on the Der-by, I'll bet the Der-by.... To win or a place, to win
+or a place, to win or a place--seven to one bar two or three, seven to one
+bar two or three.... the old firm, the old firm,"--like so many
+challenging cocks, each trying to outshrill the other.
+
+Under the hill-side in a quiet hollow had been pitched a large and
+commodious tent. Journeyman mentioned that it was the West London
+Gospel-tent. He thought the parson would have it pretty well all to
+himself, and they stopped before a van filled with barrels of Watford
+ales. A barrel had been taken from the van and placed on a small table;
+glasses of beer were being served to a thirsty crowd; and all around were
+little canvas shelters, whence men shouted, "'Commodation, 'commodation."
+
+The sun had risen high, and what clouds remained floated away like
+filaments of white cotton. The Grand Stand, dotted like a ceiling with
+flies, stood out distinct and harsh upon a burning plain of blue. The
+light beat fiercely upon the booths, the carriages, the vehicles, the
+"rings," the various stands. The country around was lost in the haze and
+dazzle of the sunlight; but a square mile of downland fluttered with flags
+and canvas, and the great mob swelled, and smoked, and drank, shied sticks
+at Aunt Sally, and rode wooden horses. And through this crush of
+perspiring, shrieking humanity Journeyman, Esther, and Sarah sought vainly
+for William. The form of the ground was lost in the multitude and they
+could only tell by the strain in their limbs whether they were walking up
+or down hill. Sarah declared herself to be done up, and it was with
+difficulty that she was persuaded to persevere a little longer. At last
+Journeyman caught sight of the bookmaker's square shoulders.
+
+"Well, so here you are. What can I do for you, ladies? Ten to one bar
+three or four. Will that suit you?"
+
+"The luncheon-basket will suit us a deal better," said Sarah.
+
+At that moment a chap came up jingling two half-crowns in his hand. "What
+price the favourite?" "Two to one," cried William. The two half-crowns
+were dropped into the satchel, and, thus encouraged, William called out
+louder than ever, "The old firm, the old firm; don't forget the old firm."
+There was a smile on his lips while he halloaed--a cheery, good-natured
+smile, which made him popular and brought him many a customer.
+
+"On the Der-by, on the Der-by, on the Der-by!" All kinds and conditions of
+men came to make bets with him; custom was brisk; he could not join the
+women, who were busy with the lunch-basket, but he and Teddy would be
+thankful for the biggest drink they could get them. "Ginger beer with a
+drop of whiskey in it, that's about it, Teddy?"
+
+"Yes, guv'nor, that'll do for me.... We're getting pretty full on
+Dewberry; might come down a point, I think."
+
+"All right, Teddy.... And if you'd cut us a couple each of strong
+sandwiches--you can manage a couple, Teddy?"
+
+"I think I can, guv'nor."
+
+There was a nice piece of beef in the basket, and Esther cut several large
+sandwiches, buttering the bread thickly and adding plenty of mustard. When
+she brought them over William bent down and whispered--
+
+"My own duck of a wife, there's no one like her."
+
+Esther blushed and laughed with pleasure, and every trace of the
+resentment for the suffering he had occasioned her dropped out of her
+heart. For the first time he was really her husband; for the first time
+she felt that sense of unity in life which is marriage, and knew
+henceforth he was the one thing that she had to live for.
+
+After luncheon Journeyman, who was making no way with Sarah, took his
+leave, pleading that he had some friends to meet in Barnard's Ring. They
+were glad to be rid of him. Sarah had many a tale to tell; and while
+listening to the matrimonial engagements that had been broken off, Esther
+shifted her parasol from time to time to watch her tall, gaunt husband. He
+shouted the odds, willing to bet against every horse, distributed tickets
+to the various folk that crowded round him, each with his preference, his
+prejudice, his belief in omens, in tips, or in the talent and luck of a
+favourite jockey. Sarah continued her cursive chatter regarding the places
+she had served in. She felt inclined for a snooze, but was afraid it would
+not look well. While hesitating she ceased speaking, and both women fell
+asleep under the shade of their parasols. It was the shallow, glassy sleep
+of the open air, through which they divined easily the great blur that was
+the race-course.
+
+They could hear William's voice, and they heard a bell ring and shouts of
+"Here they come!" Then a lull came, and their perceptions grew a little
+denser, and when they awoke the sky was the same burning blue, and the
+multitude moved to and fro like puppets.
+
+Sarah was in no better temper after than before her sleep. "It's all very
+well for you," she said. "You have your husband to look after.... I'll
+never come to the Derby again without a young man... I'm tired of sitting
+here, the grass is roasting. Come for a walk."
+
+They were two nice-looking English women of the lower classes, prettily
+dressed in light gowns with cheap sunshades in their cotton-gloved hands.
+Sarah looked at every young man with regretful eyes. In such moods
+acquaintanceships are made; and she did not allow Esther to shake off Bill
+Evans, who, just as if he had never been turned out of the bar of the
+"King's Head," came up with his familiar, "Good morning, ma'am--lovely
+weather for the races." Sarah's sidelong glances at the blue Melton jacket
+and the billycock hat defined her feelings with sufficient explicitness,
+and it was not probable that any warning would have been heeded. Soon they
+were engaged in animated conversation, and Esther was left to follow them
+if she liked.
+
+She walked by Sarah's side, quite ignored, until she was accosted by Fred
+Parsons. They were passing by the mission tent, and Fred was calling upon
+the folk to leave the ways of Satan for those of Christ. Bill Evans was
+about to answer some brutal insult; but seeing that "the Christian" knew
+Esther he checked himself in time. Esther stopped to speak to Fred, and
+Bill seized the opportunity to slip away with Sarah.
+
+"I didn't expect to meet you here, Esther."
+
+"I'm here with my husband. He said a little pleasure----"
+
+"This is not innocent pleasure, Esther; this is drunkenness and
+debauchery. I hope you'll never come again, unless you come with us," he
+said, pointing to some girls dressed as bookmakers, with Salvation and
+Perdition written on the satchels hung round their shoulders. They sought
+to persuade the passers-by to come into the tent. "We shall be very glad
+to see you," they said, and they distributed mock racing cards on which
+was inscribed news regarding certain imaginary racing. "The Paradise
+Plate, for all comers," "The Salvation Stakes, an Eternity of Happiness
+added."
+
+Fred repeated his request. "I hope the next time you come here it will be
+with us; you'll strive to collect some of Christ's lost sheep."
+
+"And my husband making a book yonder?"
+
+An awkward silence intervened, and then he said--
+
+"Won't you come in; service is going on?"
+
+Esther followed him. In the tent there were some benches, and on a
+platform a grey-bearded man with an anxious face spoke of sinners and
+redemption. Suddenly a harmonium began to play a hymn, and, standing side
+by side, Esther and Fred sang together. Prayer was so inherent in her that
+she felt no sense of incongruity, and had she been questioned she would
+have answered that it did not matter where we are, or what we are doing,
+we can always have God in our hearts.
+
+Fred followed her out.
+
+"You have not forgotten your religion, I hope?"
+
+"No, I never could forget that."
+
+"Then why do I find you in such company? You don't come here like us to
+find sinners."
+
+"I haven't forgotten God, but I must do my duty to my husband. It would be
+like setting myself up against my husband's business, and you don't think
+I ought to do that? A wife that brings discord into the family is not a
+good wife, so I've often heard."
+
+"You always thought more of your husband than of Christ, Esther."
+
+"Each one must follow Christ as best he can! It would be wrong of me to
+set myself against my husband."
+
+"So he married you?" Fred answered bitterly.
+
+"Yes. You thought he'd desert me a second time; but he's been the best of
+husbands."
+
+"I place little reliance on those who are not with Christ. His love for
+you is not of the Spirit. Let us not speak of him. I loved you very
+deeply, Esther. I would have brought you to Christ.... But perhaps you'll
+come to see us sometimes."
+
+"I do not forget Christ. He's always with me, and I believe you did care
+for me. I was sorry to break it off, you know I was. It was not my fault."
+
+"Esther, it was I who loved you."
+
+"You mustn't talk like that. I'm a married woman."
+
+"I mean no harm, Esther. I was only thinking of the past."
+
+"You must forget all that... Good-bye; I'm glad to have seen you, and that
+we said a prayer together."
+
+Fred didn't answer, and Esther moved away, wondering where she should find
+Sarah.
+
+
+
+
+XXXIII
+
+
+The crowd shouted. She looked where the others looked, but saw only the
+burning blue with the white stand marked upon it. It was crowded like the
+deck of a sinking vessel, and Esther wondered at the excitement, the cause
+of which was hidden from her. She wandered to the edge of the crowd until
+she came to a chalk road where horses and mules were tethered. A little
+higher up she entered the crowd again, and came suddenly upon a switchback
+railway. Full of laughing and screaming girls, it bumped over a middle
+hill, and then rose slowly till it reached the last summit. It was shot
+back again into the midst of its fictitious perils, and this mock voyaging
+was accomplished to the sound of music from a puppet orchestra. Bells and
+drums, a fife and a triangle, cymbals clashed mechanically, and a little
+soldier beat the time. Further on, under a striped awning, were the wooden
+horses. They were arranged so well that they rocked to and fro, imitating
+as nearly as possible the action of real horses. Esther watched the
+riders. A blue skirt looked like a riding habit, and a girl in salmon pink
+leaned back in her saddle just as if she had been taught how to ride. A
+girl in a grey jacket encouraged a girl in white who rode a grey horse.
+But before Esther could make out for certain that the man in the blue
+Melton jacket was Bill Evans he had passed out of sight, and she had to
+wait until his horse came round the second time. At that moment she caught
+sight of the red poppies in Sarah's hat.
+
+The horses began to slacken speed. They went slower and slower, then
+stopped altogether. The riders began to dismount and Esther pressed
+through the bystanders, fearing she would not be able to overtake her
+friends.
+
+"Oh, here you are," said Sarah. "I thought I never should find you again.
+How hot it is!"
+
+"Were you on in that ride? Let's have another, all three of us. These
+three horses."
+
+Round and round they went, their steeds bobbing nobly up and down to the
+sound of fifes, drums and cymbals. They passed the winning-post many
+times; they had to pass it five times, and the horse that stopped nearest
+it won the prize. A long-drawn-out murmur, continuous as the sea, swelled
+up from the course--a murmur which at last passed into words: "Here they
+come; blue wins, the favourite's beat." Esther paid little attention to
+these cries; she did not understand them; they reached her indistinctly
+and soon died away, absorbed in the strident music that accompanied the
+circling horses. These had now begun to slacken speed.... They went slower
+and slower. Sarah and Bill, who rode side by side, seemed like winning,
+but at the last moment they glided by the winning-post. Esther's steed
+stopped in time, and she was told to choose a china mug from a great heap.
+
+"You've all the luck to-day," said Bill. "Hayfield, who was backed all the
+winter, broke down a month ago.... 2 to 1 against Fly-leaf, 4 to 1 against
+Signet-ring, 4 to 1 against Dewberry, 10 to 1 against Vanguard, the winner
+at 50 to 1 offered. Your husband must have won a little fortune. Never was
+there such a day for the bookies."
+
+Esther said she was very glad, and was undecided which mug she should
+choose. At last she saw one on which "Jack" was written in gold letters.
+They then visited the peep-shows, and especially liked St. James's Park
+with the Horse Guards out on parade; the Spanish bull-fight did not stir
+them, and Sarah couldn't find a single young man to her taste in the House
+of Commons. Among the performing birds they liked best a canary that
+climbed a ladder. Bill was attracted by the American strength-testers, and
+he gave an exhibition of his muscle, to Sarah's very great admiration.
+They all had some shies at cocoa-nuts, and passed by J. Bilton's great
+bowling saloon without visiting it. Once more the air was rent with the
+cries of "Here they come! Here they come!" Even the 'commodation men left
+their canvas shelters and pressed forward inquiring which had won. A
+moment after a score of pigeons floated and flew through the blue air and
+then departed in different directions, some making straight for London,
+others for the blue mysterious evening that had risen about the Downs--the
+sun-baked Downs strewn with waste paper and covered by tipsy men and
+women, a screaming and disordered animality.
+
+"Well, so you've come back at last," said William. "The favourite was
+beaten. I suppose you know that a rank outsider won. But what about this
+gentleman?"
+
+"Met these 'ere ladies on the 'ill an' been showing them over the course.
+No offence, I hope, guv'nor?"
+
+William did not answer, and Bill took leave of Sarah in a manner that told
+Esther that they had arranged to meet again.
+
+"Where did you pick up that bloke?"
+
+"He came up and spoke to us, and Esther stopped to speak to the parson."
+
+"To the parson. What do you mean?"
+
+The circumstance was explained, and William asked them what they thought
+of the racing.
+
+"We didn't see no racing," said Sarah; "we was on the 'ill on the wooden
+'orses. Esther's 'orse won. She got a mug; show the mug, Esther."
+
+"So you saw no Derby after all?" said William.
+
+"Saw no racin'!" said his neighbour; "ain't she won the cup?"
+
+The joke was lost on the women, who only perceived that they were being
+laughed at.
+
+"Come up here, Esther," said William; "stand on my box. The 'orses are
+just going up the course for the preliminary canter. And you, Sarah, take
+Teddy's place. Teddy, get down, and let the lady up."
+
+"Yes, guv'nor. Come up 'ere, ma'am."
+
+"And is those the 'orses?" said Sarah. "They do seem small."
+
+The ringmen roared. "Not up to those on the 'ill, ma'am," said one. "Not
+such beautiful goers," said another.
+
+There were two or three false starts, and then, looking through a
+multitude of hats, Esther saw five or six thin greyhound-looking horses.
+They passed like shadows, flitted by; and she was sorry for the poor
+chestnut that trotted in among the crowd.
+
+This was the last race. Once more the favourite had been beaten; there
+were no bets to pay, and the bookmakers began to prepare for departure. It
+was the poor little clerks who were charged with the luggage. Teddy did
+not seem as if he would ever reach the top of the hill. With Esther and
+Sarah on either arm, William struggled with the crowd. It was hard to get
+through the block of carriages. Everywhere horses waited with their
+harness on, and Sarah was afraid of being bitten or kicked. A young
+aristocrat cursed them from the box-seat, and the groom blew a blast as
+the drag rolled away. It was like the instinct of departure which takes a
+vast herd at a certain moment. The great landscape, half country, half
+suburb, glinted beneath the rays of a setting sun; and through the white
+dust, and the drought of the warm roads, the brakes and carriages and
+every crazy vehicle rolled towards London; orange-sellers, tract-sellers,
+thieves, vagrants, gipsies, made for their various quarters--roadside
+inns, outhouses, hayricks, hedges, or the railway station. Down the long
+hill the vast crowd made its way, humble pedestrians and carriage folk,
+all together, as far as the cross-roads. At the "Spread Eagle" there would
+be stoppage for a parting drink, there the bookmakers would change their
+clothes, and there division would happen in the crowd--half for the
+railway station, half for the London road. It was there that the
+traditional sports of the road began. A drag, with a band of exquisites
+armed with pea-shooters, peppering on costers who were getting angry, and
+threatening to drive over the leaders. A brake with two poles erected, and
+hanging on a string quite a line of miniature chamber-pots. A horse, with
+his fore-legs clothed in a pair of lady's drawers. Naturally unconscious
+of the garment, the horse stepped along so absurdly that Esther and Sarah
+thought they'd choke with laughter.
+
+At the station William halloaed to old John, whom he caught sight of on
+the platform. He had backed the winner--forty to one about Sultan. It was
+Ketley who had persuaded him to risk half a sovereign on the horse. Ketley
+was at the Derby; he had met him on the course, and Ketley had told him a
+wonderful story about a packet of Turkish Delight. The omen had come right
+this time, and Journeyman took a back seat.
+
+"Say what you like," said William, "it is damned strange; and if anyone
+did find the way of reading them omens there would be an end of us
+bookmakers." He was only half in earnest, but he regretted he had not met
+Ketley. If he had only had a fiver on the horse--200 to 5!
+
+They met Ketley at Waterloo, and every one wanted to hear from his own
+lips the story of the packet of Turkish Delight. So William proposed they
+should all come up to the "King's Head" for a drink. The omnibus took them
+as far as Piccadilly Circus; and there the weight of his satchel tempted
+William to invite them to dinner, regardless of expense.
+
+"Which is the best dinner here?" he asked the commissionaire.
+
+"The East Room is reckoned the best, sir."
+
+The fashion of the shaded candles and the little tables, and the beauty of
+an open evening bodice and the black and white elegance of the young men
+at dinner, took the servants by surprise, and made them feel that they
+were out of place in such surroundings. Old John looked like picking up a
+napkin and asking at the nearest table if anything was wanted. Ketley
+proposed the grill room, but William, who had had a glass more than was
+good for him, declared that he didn't care a damn--that he could buy up
+the whole blooming show. The head-waiter suggested a private room; it was
+abruptly declined, and William took up the menu. "Bisque Soup, what's
+that? You ought to know, John." John shook his head. "Ris de veau! That
+reminds me of when----" William stopped and looked round to see if his
+former wife was in the room. Finally, the head-waiter was cautioned to
+send them up the best dinner in the place. Allusion was made to the dust
+and heat. Journeyman suggested a sluice, and they inquired their way to
+the lavatories. Esther and Sarah were away longer than the men, and stood
+dismayed at the top of the room till William called for them. The other
+guests seemed a little terrified, and the head-waiter, to reassure them,
+mentioned that it was Derby Day.
+
+William had ordered champagne, but it had not proved to any one's taste
+except, perhaps, to Sarah, whom it rendered unduly hilarious; nor did the
+delicate food afford much satisfaction; the servants played with it, and
+left it on their plates; and it was not until William ordered up the
+saddle of mutton and carved it himself that the dinner began to take hold
+of the company. Esther and Sarah enjoyed the ices, and the men stuck to
+the cheese, a fine Stilton, which was much appreciated. Coffee no one
+cared for, and the little glasses of brandy only served to augment the
+general tipsiness. William hiccupped out an order for a bottle of Jamieson
+eight-year-old; but pipes were not allowed, and cigars were voted tedious,
+so they adjourned to the bar, where they were free to get as drunk as they
+pleased. William said, "Now let's 'ear the blo----the bloody omen that put
+ye on to Sultan--that blood--packet of Turkish Delight."
+
+"Most extra--most extraordinary thing I ever heard in my life, so yer
+'ere?" said Ketley, staring at William and trying to see him distinctly.
+
+William nodded. "How was it? We want to 'ear all about it. Do hold yer
+tongue, Sarah. I beg pardon, Ketley is go--going to tell us about the
+bloody omen. Thought you'd like to he--ar, old girl."
+
+Allusion was made to a little girl coming home from school, and a piece of
+paper on the pavement. But Ketley could not concentrate his thoughts on
+the main lines of the story, and it was lost in various dissertations. But
+the company was none the less pleased with it, and willingly declared that
+bookmaking was only a game for mugs. Get on a winner at forty to one, and
+you could make as much in one bet as a poor devil of a bookie could in six
+months, fagging from race-course to race-course. They drank, argued, and
+quarrelled, until Esther noticed that Sarah was looking very pale. Old
+John was quite helpless; Journeyman, who seemed to know what he was doing,
+very kindly promised to look after him.
+
+Ketley assured the commissionaire that he was not drunk; and when they got
+outside Sarah felt obliged to step aside; she came back, saying that she
+felt a little better.
+
+They stood on the pavement's edge, a little puzzled by the brilliancy of
+the moonlight. And the three men who followed out of the bar-room were
+agreed regarding the worthlessness of life. One said, "I don't think much
+of it; all I live for is beer and women." The phrase caught on William's
+ear, and he said, "Quite right, old mate," and he held out his hand to
+Bill Evans. "Beer and women, it always comes round to that in the end, but
+we mustn't let them hear us say it." The men shook hands, and Bill
+promised to see Sarah safely home. Esther tried to interpose, but William
+could not be made to understand, and Sarah and Bill drove away together in
+a hansom. Sarah dozed off immediately on his shoulder, and it was
+difficult to awaken her when the cab stopped before a house whose
+respectability took Bill by surprise.
+
+
+
+
+XXXIV
+
+
+Things went well enough as long as her savings lasted. When her money was
+gone Bill returned to the race-course in the hope of doing a bit of
+welshing. Soon after he was "wanted" by the police; they escaped to
+Belgium, and it devolved on Sarah to support him. The hue and cry over,
+they came back to London.
+
+She had been sitting up for him; he had come home exasperated and
+disappointed. A row soon began; and she thought that he would strike her.
+But he refrained, for fear, perhaps, of the other lodgers. He took her
+instead by the arm, dragged her down the broken staircase, and pushed her
+into the court. She heard the retreating footsteps, and saw a cat slink
+through a grating, and she wished that she too could escape from the light
+into the dark.
+
+A few belated women still lingered in the Strand, and the city stood up
+like a prison, hard and stark in the cold, penetrating light of morning.
+She sat upon a pillar's base, her eyes turned towards the cabmen's
+shelter. The horses munched in their nose-bags, and the pigeons came down
+from their roosts. She was dressed in an old black dress, her hands lay
+upon her knees, and the pose expressed so perfectly the despair and
+wretchedness in her soul that a young man in evening clothes, who had
+looked sharply at her as he passed, turned and came back to her, and he
+asked her if he could assist her. She answered, "Thank you, sir." He
+slipped a shilling into her hand. She was too broken-hearted to look up in
+his face, and he walked away wondering what was her story. The disordered
+red hair, the thin, freckled face, were expressive, and so too was the
+movement of her body when she got up and walked, not knowing and not
+caring where she was going. There was sensation of the river in her
+thoughts; the river drew her, and she indistinctly remembered that she
+would find relief there if she chose to accept that relief. The water was
+blue beneath the sunrise, and it seemed to offer to end her life's
+trouble. She could not go on living. She could not bear with her life any
+longer, and yet she knew that she would not drown herself that morning.
+There was not enough will in her to drown herself. She was merely half
+dead with grief. He had turned her out, he had said that he never wanted
+to see her again, but that was because he had been unlucky. She ought to
+have gone to bed and not waited up for him; he didn't know what he was
+doing; so long as he didn't care for another woman there was hope that he
+might come back to her. The spare trees rustled their leaves in the bright
+dawn air, and she sat down on a bench and watched the lamps going out, and
+the river changing from blue to brown. Hours passed, and the same thoughts
+came and went, until with sheer weariness of thinking she fell asleep.
+
+She was awakened by the policeman, and she once more continued her walk.
+The omnibuses had begun; women were coming from market with baskets on
+their arms; and she wondered if their lovers and husbands were unfaithful
+to them, if they would be received with blows or knocks when they
+returned. Her slightest mistakes had often, it seemed, merited a blow; and
+God knows she had striven to pick out the piece of bacon that she thought
+he would like, and it was not her fault that she couldn't get any money
+nowhere. Why was he cruel to her? He never would find another woman to
+care for him more than she did.... Esther had a good husband, Esther had
+always been lucky. Two hours more to wait, and she felt so tired, so
+tired. The milk-women were calling their ware--those lusty short-skirted
+women that bring an air of country into the meanest alley. She sat down on
+a doorstep and looked on the empty Haymarket, vaguely conscious of the low
+vice which still lingered there though the morning was advancing. She
+turned up Shaftesbury Avenue, and from the beginning of Dean Street she
+watched to see if the shutters were yet down. She thought they were, and
+then saw that she was mistaken. There was nothing to do but to wait, and
+on the steps of the Royalty Theatre she waited. The sun was shining, and
+she watched the cab horses, until the potboy came through and began
+cleaning the street lamp. She didn't care to ask him any questions;
+dressed as she was, he might answer her rudely. She wanted to see Esther
+first. Esther would pity and help her. So she did not go directly to the
+"King's Head," but went up the street a little way and came back. The
+boy's back was turned to her; she peeped through the doors. There was no
+one in the bar, she must go back to the steps of the theatre. A number of
+children were playing there, and they did not make way for her to sit
+down. She was too weary to argue the point, and walked up and down the
+street. When she looked through the doors a second time Esther was in the
+bar.
+
+"Is that you, Sarah?"
+
+"Yes, it is me."
+
+"Then come in.... How is it that we've not seen you all this time? What's
+the matter?"
+
+"I've been out all night. Bill put me out of doors this morning, and I've
+been walking about ever since."
+
+"Bill put you out of doors? I don't understand."
+
+"You know Bill Evans, the man we met on the race-course, the day we went
+to the Derby.... It began there. He took me home after your dinner at the
+'Criterion.'... It has been going on ever since."
+
+"Good Lord! ...Tell me about it."
+
+Leaning against the partition that separated the bars, Sarah told how she
+had left her home and gone to live with him.
+
+"We got on pretty well at first, but the police was after him, and we made
+off to Belgium. There we was very hard up, and I had to go out on the
+streets."
+
+"He made you do that?"
+
+"He couldn't starve, could he?"
+
+The women looked at each other, and then Sarah continued her story. She
+told how they had come to London, penniless. "I think he wants to turn
+honest," she said, "but luck's been dead against him.... It's that
+difficult for one like him, and he's been in work, but he can't stick to
+it; and now I don't know what he's doing--no good, I fancy. Last night I
+got anxious and couldn't sleep, so I sat up. It was about two when he came
+in. We had a row and he dragged me downstairs and he put me out. He said
+he never wanted to see my ugly face again. I don't think I'm as bad as
+that; I've led a hard life, and am not what I used to be, but it was he
+who made me what I am. Oh, it don't matter now, it can't be helped, it is
+all over with me. I don't care what becomes of me, only I thought I'd like
+to come and tell you. We was always friends."
+
+"You mustn't give way like that, old girl. You must keep yer pecker up.
+You're dead beat.... You've been walking about all night, no wonder. You
+must come and have some breakfast with us."
+
+"I should like a cup of tea, Esther. I never touches spirits now. I got
+over that."
+
+"Come into the parlour. You'll be better when you've had breakfast. We'll
+see what we can do for you."
+
+"Oh, Esther, not a word of what I've been telling you to your husband. I
+don't want to get Bill into trouble. He'd kill me. Promise me not to
+mention a word of it. I oughtn't to have told you. I was so tired that I
+didn't know what I was saying."
+
+There was plenty to eat--fried fish, a nice piece of steak, tea and
+coffee. "You seem to live pretty well," said Sarah, "It must be nice to
+have a servant of one's own. I suppose you're doing pretty well here."
+
+"Yes, pretty well, if it wasn't for William's health."
+
+"What's the matter? Ain't he well?"
+
+"He's been very poorly lately. It's very trying work going about from
+race-course to race-course, standing in the mud and wet all day long....
+He caught a bad cold last winter and was laid up with inflammation of the
+lungs, and I don't think he ever quite got over it."
+
+"Don't he go no more to race meetings?"
+
+"He hasn't been to a race meeting since the beginning of the winter. It
+was one of them nasty steeplechase meetings that laid him up."
+
+"Do 'e drink?"
+
+"He's never drunk, but he takes too much. Spirits don't suit him. He
+thought he could do what he liked, great strong-built fellow that he is,
+but he's found out his mistake."
+
+"He does his betting in London now, I suppose?"
+
+"Yes," said Esther, hesitating--"when he has any to do. I want him to give
+it up; but trade is bad in this neighbourhood, leastways, with us, and he
+don't think we could do without it."
+
+"It's very hard to keep it dark; some one's sure to crab it and bring the
+police down on you."
+
+Esther did not answer; the conversation paused, and William entered.
+"Halloa! is that you, Sarah? We didn't know what had become of you all
+this time." He noticed that she looked like one in trouble, and was very
+poorly dressed. She noticed that his cheeks were thinner than they used to
+be, and that his broad chest had sunk, and that there seemed to be
+strangely little space between it and his back. Then in brief phrases,
+interrupting each other frequently, the women told the story. William
+said--
+
+"I knew he was a bad lot. I never liked to see him inside my bar."
+
+"I thought," said Esther, "that Sarah might remain here for a time."
+
+"I can't have that fellow coming round my place."
+
+"There's no fear of his coming after me. He don't want to see my ugly face
+again. Well, let him try to find some one who will do for him all I have
+done."
+
+"Until she gets a situation," said Esther. "I think that'll be the best,
+for you to stop here until you get a situation."
+
+"And what about a character?"
+
+"You needn't say much about what you've been doing this last twelve
+months; if many questions are asked, you can say you've been stopping with
+us. But you mustn't see that brute again. If he ever comes into that 'ere
+bar, I'll give him a piece of my mind. I'd give him more than a piece of
+my mind if I was the man I was a twelvemonth ago." William coughed, and
+Esther looked at him anxiously.
+
+
+
+
+XXXV
+
+
+Lacking a parlour on the ground floor for the use of special customers,
+William had arranged a room upstairs where they could smoke and drink.
+There were tables in front of the windows and chairs against the walls,
+and in the middle of the room a bagatelle board.
+
+When William left off going to race-courses he had intended to refrain
+from taking money across the bar and to do all his betting business in
+this room.
+
+He thought that it would be safer. But as his customers multiplied he
+found that he could not ask them all upstairs; it attracted more attention
+than to take the money quietly across the bar. Nevertheless the room
+upstairs had proved a success. A man spent more money if he had a room
+where he could sit quietly among his friends than he would seated on a
+high stool in a public bar, jostled and pushed about; so it had come to be
+considered a sort of club room; and a large part of the neighbourhood came
+there to read the papers, to hear and discuss the news. And specially
+useful it had proved to Journeyman and Stack. Neither was now in
+employment; they were now professional backers; and from daylight to dark
+they wandered from public-house to public-house, from tobacconist to
+barber's shop, in the search of tips, on the quest of stable information
+regarding the health of the horses and their trials. But the room upstairs
+at the "King's Head" was the centre of their operations. Stack was the
+indefatigable tipster, Journeyman was the scientific student of public
+form. His memory was prodigious, and it enabled him to note an advantage
+in the weights which would escape an ordinary observer. He often picked
+out horses which, if they did not actually win, nearly always stood at a
+short price in the betting before the race.
+
+The "King's Head" was crowded during the dinner-hour. Barbers and their
+assistants, cabmen, scene-shifters, if there was an afternoon performance
+at the theatre, servants out of situation and servants escaped from their
+service for an hour, petty shopkeepers, the many who grow weary of the
+scant livelihood that work brings them, came there. Eleven o'clock! In
+another hour the bar and the room upstairs would be crowded. At present
+the room was empty, and Journeyman had taken advantage of the quiet time
+to do a bit of work at his handicap. All the racing of the last three
+years lay within his mind's range; he recalled at will every trifling
+selling race; hardly ever was he obliged to refer to the Racing Calendar.
+Wanderer had beaten Brick at ten pounds. Snow Queen had beaten Shoemaker
+at four pounds, and Shoemaker had beaten Wanderer at seven pounds. The
+problem was further complicated by the suspicion that Brick could get a
+distance of ground better than Snow Queen. Journeyman was undecided. He
+stroked his short brown moustache with his thin, hairy hand, and gnawed
+the end of his pen. In this moment of barren reflection Stack came into
+the room.
+
+"Still at yer 'andicap, I see," said Stack. "How does it work out?"
+
+"Pretty well," said Journeyman. "But I don't think it will be one of my
+best; there is some pretty hard nuts to crack."
+
+"Which are they?" said Stack. Journeyman brightened up, and he proceeded
+to lay before Stack's intelligence what he termed a "knotty point in
+collateral running."
+
+Stack listened with attention, and thus encouraged, Journeyman proceeded
+to point out certain distributions of weight which he said seemed to him
+difficult to beat.
+
+"Anyone what knows the running would say there wasn't a pin to choose
+between them at the weights. If this was the real 'andicap, I'd bet drinks
+all around that fifteen of these twenty would accept. And that's more than
+anyone will be able to say for Courtney's 'andicap. The weights will be
+out to-morrow; we shall see."
+
+"What do you say to 'alf a pint," said Stack, "and we'll go steadily
+through your 'andicap? You've nothing to do for the next 'alf-hour."
+
+Journeyman's dingy face lit up. When the potboy appeared in answer to the
+bell he was told to bring up two half-pints, and Journeyman read out the
+weights. Every now and then he stopped to explain his reasons for what
+might seem to be superficial, an unmerited severity, or an undue leniency.
+It was not usual for Journeyman to meet with so sympathetic a listener; he
+had often been made to feel that his handicapping was unnecessary, and he
+now noticed, and with much pleasure, that Stack's attention seemed to
+increase rather than to diminish as he approached the end. When he had
+finished Stack said, "I see you've given six-seven to Ben Jonson. Tell me
+why you did that?"
+
+"He was a good 'orse once; he's broken down and aged; he can't be trained,
+so six-seven seems just the kind of weight to throw him in at. You
+couldn't give him less, however old and broken down he may be. He was a
+good horse when he won the Great Ebor Grand Cup."
+
+"Do you think if they brought him to the post as fit and well as he was
+the day he won the Ebor that he'd win?"
+
+"What, fit and well as he was when he won the Great Ebor, and with
+six-seven on his back? He'd walk away with it."
+
+"You don't think any of the three-year-olds would have a chance with him?
+A Derby winner with seven stone on his back might beat him."
+
+"Yes, but nothing short of that. Even then old Ben would make a race of
+it. A nailing good horse once. A little brown horse about fifteen two, as
+compact as a leg of Welsh mutton.... But there's no use in thinking of
+him. They've been trying for years to train him. Didn't they used to get
+the flesh off him in a Turkish bath? That was Fulton's notion. He used to
+say that it didn't matter 'ow you got the flesh off so long as you got it
+off. Every pound of flesh off the lungs is so much wind, he used to say.
+But the Turkish bath trained horses came to the post limp as old rags. If
+a 'orse 'asn't the legs you can't train him. Every pound of flesh yer take
+off must put a pound 'o 'ealth on. They'll do no good with old Ben, unless
+they've found out a way of growing on him a pair of new forelegs. The old
+ones won't do for my money."
+
+"But do you think that Courtney will take the same view of his
+capabilities as you do--do you think he'll let him off as easily as you
+have?"
+
+"He can't give him much more.... The 'orse is bound to get in at seven
+stone, rather under than over."
+
+"I'm glad to 'ear yer say so, for I know you've a headpiece, and 'as all
+the running in there." Stack tapped his forehead. "Now, I'd like to ask
+you if there's any three-year-olds that would be likely to interfere with
+him?"
+
+"Derby and Leger winners will get from eight stone to eight stone ten, and
+three-year-olds ain't no good over the Cesarewitch course with more than
+eight on their backs."
+
+The conversation paused. Surprised at Stack's silence, Journeyman said--
+
+"Is there anything up? Have you heard anything particular about old Ben?"
+
+Stack bent forward. "Yes, I've heard something, and I'm making inquiries."
+
+"How did you hear it?"
+
+Stack drew his chair a little closer. "I've been up at Chalk Farm, the
+'Yarborough Arms'; you know, where the 'buses stop. Bob Barrett does a
+deal of business up there. He pays the landlord's rent for the use of the
+bar--Wednesdays, Fridays, and Saturdays is his days. Charley Grove bets
+there Mondays, Tuesdays, and Thursdays, but it is Bob that does the
+biggest part of the business. They say he's taken as much as twenty pounds
+in a morning. You know Bob, a great big man, eighteen stun if he's an
+ounce. He's a warm 'un, can put it on thick."
+
+"I know him; he do tell fine stories about the girls; he has the pick of
+the neighbourhood, wears a low hat, no higher than that, with a big brim.
+I know him. I've heard that he 'as moved up that way. Used at one time to
+keep a tobacconist's shop in Great Portland Street."
+
+"That's him," said Stack. "I thought you'd heard of him."
+
+"There ain't many about that I've not heard of. Not that I likes the man
+much. There was a girl I knew--she wouldn't hear his name mentioned. But
+he lays fair prices, and does, I believe, a big trade."
+
+"'As a nice 'ome at Brixton, keeps a trap; his wife as pretty a woman as
+you could wish to lay eyes on. I've seen her with him at Kempton."
+
+"You was up there this morning?"
+
+"Yes."
+
+"It wasn't Bob Barrett that gave you the tip?"
+
+"Not likely." The men laughed, and then Stack said--
+
+"You know Bill Evans? You've seen him here, always wore a blue Melton
+jacket and billycock hat; a dark, stout, good-looking fellow; generally
+had something to sell, or pawn-tickets that he would part with for a
+trifle."
+
+"Yes, I know the fellow. We met him down at Epsom one Derby Day. Sarah
+Tucker, a friend of the missis, was dead gone on him."
+
+"Yes, she went to live with him. There was a row, and now, I believe,
+they're together again; they was seen out walking. They're friends,
+anyhow. Bill has been away all the summer, tramping. A bad lot, but one of
+them sort often hears of a good thing."
+
+"So it was from Bill Evans that you heard it."
+
+"Yes, it was from Bill. He has just come up from Eastbourne, where he 'as
+been about on the Downs a great deal. I don't know if it was the horses he
+was after, but in the course of his proceedings he heard from a shepherd
+that Ben Jonson was doing seven hours' walking exercise a day. This seemed
+to have fetched Bill a bit. Seven hours a day walking exercise do seem a
+bit odd, and being at the same time after one of the servants in the
+training stable--as pretty a bit of goods as he ever set eyes on, so Bill
+says--he thought he'd make an inquiry or two about all this walking
+exercise. One of the lads in the stable is after the girl, too, so Bill
+found out very soon all he wanted to know. As you says, the 'orse is dicky
+on 'is forelegs, that is the reason of all the walking exercise."
+
+"And they thinks they can bring him fit to the post and win the
+Cesarewitch with him by walking him all day?"
+
+"I don't say they don't gallop him at all; they do gallop him, but not as
+much as if his legs was all right."
+
+"That won't do. I don't believe in a 'orse winning the Cesarewitch that
+ain't got four sound legs, and old Ben ain't got more than two."
+
+"He's had a long rest, and they say he is sounder than ever he was since
+he won the Great Ebor. They don't say he'd stand no galloping, but they
+don't want to gallop him more than's absolutely necessary on account of
+the suspensory ligament; it ain't the back sinew, but the suspensory
+ligament. Their theory is this, that it don't so much matter about
+bringing him quite fit to the post, for he's sure to stay the course; he'd
+do that three times over. What they say is this, that if he gets in with
+seven stone, and we brings him well and three parts trained, there ain't
+no 'orse in England that can stand up before him. They've got another in
+the race, Laurel Leaf, to make the running for him; it can't be too strong
+for old Ben. You say to yourself that he may get let off with six-seven.
+If he do there'll be tons of money on him. He'll be backed at the post at
+five to one. Before the weights come out they'll lay a hundred to one on
+the field in any of the big clubs. I wouldn't mind putting a quid on him
+if you'll join me."
+
+"Better wait until the weights come out," said Journeyman, "for if it
+happened to come to Courtney's ears that old Ben could be trained he'd
+clap seven-ten on him without a moment's hesitation."
+
+"You think so?" said Stack.
+
+"I do," said Journeyman.
+
+"But you agree with me that if he got let off with anything less than
+seven stone, and be brought fit, or thereabouts, to the post, that the
+race is a moral certainty for him?"
+
+"A thousand to a brass farthing."
+
+"Mind, not a word."
+
+"Is it likely?"
+
+The conversation paused a moment, and Journeyman said, "You've not seen my
+'andicap for the Cambridgeshire. I wonder what you'd think of that?" Stack
+said he would be glad to see it another time, and suggested that they go
+downstairs.
+
+"I'm afraid the police is in," said Stack, when he opened the door.
+
+"Then we'd better stop where we are; I don't want to be took to the
+station."
+
+They listened for some moments, holding the door ajar.
+
+"It ain't the police," said Stack, "but a row about some bet. Latch had
+better be careful."
+
+The cause of the uproar was a tall young English workman, whose beard was
+pale gold, and whose teeth were white. He wore a rough handkerchief tied
+round his handsome throat. His eyes were glassy with drink, and his
+comrades strove to quieten him.
+
+"Leave me alone," he exclaimed; "the bet was ten half-crowns to one. I
+won't stand being welshed."
+
+William's face flushed up. "Welshed!" he said. "No one speaks in this bar
+of welshing." He would have sprung over the counter, but Esther held him
+back.
+
+"I know what I'm talking about; you let me alone," said the young workman,
+and he struggled out of the hands of his friends. "The bet was ten
+half-crowns to one."
+
+"Don't mind what he says, guv'nor."
+
+"Don't mind what I says!" For a moment it seemed as if the friends were
+about to come to blows, but the young man's perceptions suddenly clouded,
+and he said, "In this blo-ody bar last Monday... horse backed in
+Tattersall's at twelve to one taken and offered."
+
+"He don't know what he's talking about; but no one must accuse me of
+welshing in this 'ere bar."
+
+"No offence, guv'nor; mistakes will occur."
+
+William could not help laughing, and he sent Teddy upstairs for Monday's
+paper. He pointed out that eight to one was being asked for about the
+horse on Monday afternoon at Tattersall's. The stage door-keeper and a
+scene-shifter had just come over from the theatre, and had managed to
+force their way into the jug and bottle entrance. Esther and Charles had
+been selling beer and spirits as fast as they could draw it, but the
+disputed bet had caused the company to forget their glasses.
+
+"Just one more drink," said the young man. "Take the ten half-crowns out
+in drinks, guv'nor, that's good enough. What do you say, guv'nor?"
+
+"What, ten half-crowns?" William answered angrily. "Haven't I shown you
+that the 'orse was backed at Tattersall's the day you made the bet at
+eight to one?"
+
+"Ten to one, guv'nor."
+
+"I've not time to go on talking.... You're interfering with my business.
+You must get out of my bar."
+
+"Who'll put me out?"
+
+"Charles, go and fetch a policeman."
+
+At the word "policeman" the young man seemed to recover his wits somewhat,
+and he answered, "You'll bring in no bloody policeman. Fetch a policeman!
+and what about your blooming betting--what will become of it?" William
+looked round to see if there was any in the bar whom he could not trust.
+He knew everyone present, and believed he could trust them all. There was
+but one thing to do, and that was to put on a bold face and trust to luck.
+"Now out you go," he said, springing over the counter, "and never you set
+your face inside my bar again." Charles followed the guv'nor over the
+counter like lightning, and the drunkard was forced into the street. "He
+don't mean no 'arm," said one of the friends; "he'll come round to-morrow
+and apologise for what he's said."
+
+"I don't want his apology," said William. "No one shall call me a welsher
+in my bar.... Take your friend away, and never let me see him in my bar
+again."
+
+Suddenly William turned very pale. He was seized with a fit of coughing,
+and this great strong man leaned over the counter very weak indeed. Esther
+led him into the parlour, leaving Charles to attend to the customers. His
+hand trembled like a leaf, and she sat by his side holding it. Mr. Blamy
+came in to ask if he should lay one of the young gentlemen from the
+tutor's thirty shillings to ten against the favourite. Esther said that
+William could attend to no more customers that day. Mr. Blamy returned ten
+minutes after to say that there was quite a number of people in the bar;
+should he refuse to take their money?
+
+"Do you know them all?" said William.
+
+"I think so, guv'nor."
+
+"Be careful to bet with no one you don't know; but I'm so bad I can hardly
+speak."
+
+"Much better send them away," said Esther.
+
+"Then they'll go somewhere else."
+
+"It won't matter; they'll come back to where they're sure of their money."
+
+"I'm not so sure of that," William answered, feebly. "I think it will be
+all right, Teddy; you'll be very careful."
+
+"Yes, guv'nor, I'll keep down the price."
+
+
+
+
+XXXVI
+
+
+One afternoon Fred Parsons came into the bar of the "King's Head." He wore
+the cap and jersey of the Salvation Army; he was now Captain Parsons. The
+bars were empty. It was a time when business was slackest. The morning's
+betting was over; the crowd had dispersed, and would not collect again
+until the _Evening Standard_ had come in. William had gone for a walk.
+Esther and the potboy were alone in the house. The potman was at work in
+the backyard, Esther was sewing in the parlour. Hearing steps, she went
+into the bar. Fred looked at her abashed, he was a little perplexed. He
+said--
+
+"Is your husband in? I should like to speak to him."
+
+"No, my husband is out. I don't expect him back for an hour or so. Can I
+give him any message?"
+
+She was on the point of asking him how he was. But there was something so
+harsh and formal in his tone and manner that she refrained. But the idea
+in her mind must have expressed itself in her face, for suddenly his
+manner softened. He drew a deep breath, and passed his hand across his
+forehead. Then, putting aside the involuntary thought, he said--
+
+"Perhaps it will come through you as well as any other way. I had intended
+to speak to him, but I can explain the matter better to you.... It is
+about the betting that is being carried on here. We mean to put a stop to
+it. That's what I came to tell him. It must be put a stop to. No
+right-minded person--it cannot be allowed to go on."
+
+Esther said nothing; not a change of expression came upon her grave face.
+Fred was agitated. The words stuck in his throat, and his hands were
+restless. Esther raised her calm eyes, and looked at him. His eyes were
+pale, restless eyes.
+
+"I've come to warn you," he said, "that the law will be set in motion....
+It is very painful for me, but something must be done. The whole
+neighbourhood is devoured by it." Esther did not answer, and he said, "Why
+don't you answer, Esther?"
+
+"What is there for me to answer? You tell me that you are going to get up
+a prosecution against us. I can't prevent you. I'll tell my husband what
+you say."
+
+"This is a very serious matter, Esther." He had come into command of his
+voice, and he spoke with earnest determination. "If we get a conviction
+against you for keeping a betting-house, you will not only be heavily
+fined, but you will also lose your licence. All we ask is that the betting
+shall cease. No," he said, interrupting, "don't deny anything; it is quite
+useless, we know everything. The whole neighbourhood is demoralized by
+this betting; nothing is thought of but tips; the day's racing--that is
+all they think about--the evening papers, and the latest information. You
+do not know what harm you're doing. Every day we hear of some new
+misfortune--a home broken up, the mother in the workhouse, the daughter on
+the streets, the father in prison, and all on account of this betting. Oh,
+Esther, it is horrible; think of the harm you're doing."
+
+Fred Parsons' high, round forehead, his weak eyes, his whole face, was
+expressive of fear and hatred of the evil which a falsetto voice denounced
+with much energy.
+
+Suddenly he seemed to grow nervous and perplexed. Esther was looking at
+him, and he said, "You don't answer, Esther?"
+
+"What would you have me answer?"
+
+"You used to be a good, religious woman. Do you remember how we used to
+speak when we used to go for walks together, when you were in service in
+the Avondale road? I remember you agreeing with me that much good could be
+done by those who were determined to do it. You seem to have changed very
+much since those days."
+
+For a moment Esther seemed affected by these remembrances. Then she said
+in a low, musical voice--
+
+"No, I've not changed, Fred, but things has turned out different. One
+doesn't do the good that one would like to in the world; one has to do the
+good that comes to one to do. I've my husband and my boy to look to.
+Them's my good. At least, that's how I sees things."
+
+Fred looked at Esther, and his eyes expressed all the admiration and love
+that he felt for her character. "One owes a great deal," he said, "to
+those who are near to one, but not everything; even for their sakes one
+should not do wrong to others, and you must see that you are doing a great
+wrong to your fellow-creatures by keeping on this betting. Public-houses
+are bad enough, but when it comes to gambling as well as drink, there's
+nothing for us to do but to put the law in motion. Look you, Esther, there
+isn't a shop-boy earning eighteen shillings a week that hasn't been round
+here to put his half-crown on some horse. This house is the immoral centre
+of the neighbourhood. No one's money is refused. The boy that pawned his
+father's watch to back a horse went to the 'King's Head' to put his money
+on. His father forgave him again and again. Then the boy stole from the
+lodgers. There was an old woman of seventy-five who got nine shillings a
+week for looking after some offices; he had half-a-crown off her. Then the
+father told the magistrate that he could do nothing with him since he had
+taken to betting on horse-races. The boy is fourteen. Is it not shocking?
+It cannot be allowed to go on. We have determined to put a stop to it.
+That's what I came to tell your husband."
+
+"Are you sure," said Esther, and she bit her lips while she spoke, "that
+it is entirely for the neighbourhood that you want to get up the
+prosecution?"
+
+"You don't think there's any other reason, Esther? You surely don't think
+that I'm doing this because--because he took you away from me?"
+
+Esther didn't answer. And then Fred said, and there was pain and pathos in
+his voice, "I am sorry you think this of me; I'm not getting up the
+prosecution. I couldn't prevent the law being put in motion against you
+even if I wanted to.... I only know that it is going to be put in motion,
+so for the sake of old times I would save you from harm if I could. I came
+round to tell you if you did not put a stop to the betting you'd get into
+trouble. I have no right to do what I have done, but I'd do anything to
+save you and yours from harm."
+
+"I am sorry for what I said. It was very good of you."
+
+"We have not any proofs as yet; we know, of course, all about the betting,
+but we must have sworn testimony before the law can be set in motion, so
+you'll be quite safe if you can persuade your husband to give it up."
+Esther did not answer. "It is entirely on account of the friendship I feel
+for you that made me come to warn you of the danger. You don't bear me any
+ill-will, Esther, I hope?"
+
+"No, Fred, I don't. I think I understand." The conversation paused again.
+"I suppose we have said everything." Esther turned her face from him. Fred
+looked at her, and though her eyes were averted from him she could see
+that he loved her. In another moment he was gone. In her plain and
+ignorant way she thought on the romance of destiny. For if she had married
+Fred her life would have been quite different. She would have led the life
+that she wished to lead, but she had married William and--well, she must
+do the best she could. If Fred, or Fred's friends, got the police to
+prosecute them for betting, they would, as he said, not only have to pay a
+heavy fine, but would probably lose their licence. Then what would they
+do? William had not health to go about from race-course to race-course as
+he used to. He had lost a lot of money in the last six months; Jack was at
+school--they must think of Jack. The thought of their danger lay on her
+heart all that evening. But she had had no opportunity of speaking to
+William alone, she had to wait until they were in their room. Then, as she
+untied the strings of her petticoats, she said--
+
+"I had a visit from Fred Parsons this afternoon."
+
+"That's the fellow you were engaged to marry. Is he after you still?"
+
+"No, he came to speak to me about the betting."
+
+"About the betting--what is it to do with him?"
+
+"He says that if it isn't stopped that we shall be prosecuted."
+
+"So he came here to tell you that, did he? I wish I had been in the bar."
+
+"I'm glad you wasn't. What good could you have done? To have a row and
+make things worse!"
+
+William lit his pipe and unlaced his boots. Esther slipped on her
+night-dress and got into a large brass bedstead, without curtains. On the
+chest of drawers Esther had placed the books her mother had given her, and
+William had hung some sporting prints on the walls. He took his
+night-shirt from the pillow and put it on without removing his pipe from
+his mouth. He always finished his pipe in bed.
+
+"It is revenge," he said, pulling the bed-clothes up to his chin, "because
+I got you away from him."
+
+"I don't think it is that; I did think so at first, and I said so."
+
+"What did he say?"
+
+"He said he was sorry I thought so badly of him; that he came to warn us
+of our danger. If he had wanted to do us an injury he wouldn't have said
+nothing about it. Don't you think so?"
+
+"It seems reasonable. Then what do you think they're doing it for?"
+
+"He says that keeping a betting-house is corruption in the neighbourhood."
+
+"You think he thinks that?"
+
+"I know he do; and there is many like him. I come of them that thinks like
+that, so I know. Betting and drink is what my folk, the Brethren, holds as
+most evil."
+
+"But you've forgot all about them Brethren?"
+
+"No, one never forgets what one's brought up in."
+
+"But what do you think now?"
+
+"I've never said nothing about it. I don't believe in a wife interfering
+with her husband; and business was that bad, and your 'ealth 'asn't been
+the same since them colds you caught standing about in them betting rings,
+so I don't see how you could help it. But now that business is beginning
+to come back to us, it might be as well to give up the betting."
+
+"It is the betting that brings the business; we shouldn't take five pounds
+a week was it not for the betting. What's the difference between betting
+on the course and betting in the bar? No one says nothing against it on
+the course; the police is there, and they goes after the welshers and
+persecutes them. Then the betting that's done at Tattersall's and the
+Albert Club, what is the difference? The Stock Exchange, too, where
+thousands and thousands is betted every day. It is the old story--one law
+for the rich and another for the poor. Why shouldn't the poor man 'ave his
+'alf-crown's worth of excitement? The rich man can have his thousand
+pounds' worth whenever he pleases. The same with the public
+'ouses--there's a lot of hypocritical folk that is for docking the poor
+man of his beer, but there's no one that's for interfering with them that
+drink champagne in the clubs. It's all bloody rot, and it makes me sick
+when I think of it. Them hypocritical folk. Betting! Isn't everything
+betting? How can they put down betting? Hasn't it been going on since the
+world began? Rot, says I! They can just ruin a poor devil like me, and
+that's about all. We are ruined, and the rich goes scot-free.
+Hypocritical, mealy-mouthed lot. 'Let's say our prayers and sand
+the sugar'; that's about it. I hate them that is always prating out
+religion. When I hears too much religion going about I says now's the time
+to look into their accounts."
+
+William leaned out of bed to light his pipe from the candle on the
+night-table.
+
+"There's good people in the world, people that never thinks but of doing
+good, and do not live for pleasure."
+
+"'All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy,' Esther. Their only pleasure
+is a bet. When they've one on they've something to look forward to;
+whether they win or lose they 'as their money's worth. You know what I say
+is true; you've seen them, how they look forward to the evening paper to
+see how the 'oss is going on in betting. Man can't live without hope. It
+is their only hope, and I says no one has a right to take it from them."
+
+"What about their poor wives? Very little good their betting is to them.
+It's all very well to talk like that, William, but you know, and you can't
+say you don't, that a great deal of mischief comes of betting; you know
+that once they think of it and nothing else, they neglect their work.
+There's Stack, he's lost his place as porter; there's Journeyman, too,
+he's out of work."
+
+"And a good thing for them; they've done a great deal better since they
+chucked it."
+
+"For the time, maybe; but who says it will go on? Look at old John; he's
+going about in rags; and his poor wife, she was in here the other night, a
+terrible life she's 'ad of it. You says that no 'arm comes of it. What
+about that boy that was 'ad up the other day, and said that it was all
+through betting? He began by pawning his father's watch. It was here that
+he made the first bet. You won't tell me that it is right to bet with bits
+of boys like that."
+
+"The horse he backed with me won."
+
+"So much the worse.... The boy'll never do another honest day's work as
+long as he lives.... When they win, they 'as a drink for luck; when they
+loses, they 'as a drink to cheer them up."
+
+"I'm afraid, Esther, you ought to have married the other chap. He'd have
+given you the life that you'd have been happy in. This public-'ouse ain't
+suited to you."
+
+Esther turned round and her eyes met her husband's. There was a strange
+remoteness in his look, and they seemed very far from each other.
+
+"I was brought up to think so differently," she said, her thoughts going
+back to her early years in the little southern seaside home. "I suppose
+this betting and drinking will always seem to me sinful and wicked. I
+should 'ave liked quite a different kind of life, but we don't choose our
+lives, we just makes the best of them. You was the father of my child, and
+it all dates from that."
+
+"I suppose it do."
+
+William lay on his back, and blew the smoke swiftly from his mouth.
+
+"If you smoke much more we shan't be able to breathe in this room."
+
+"I won't smoke no more. Shall I blow the candle out?"
+
+"Yes, if you like."
+
+When the room was in darkness, just before they settled their faces on the
+pillow for sleep, William said--
+
+"It was good of that fellow to come and warn us. I must be very careful
+for the future with whom I bet."
+
+
+
+
+XXXVII
+
+
+On Sunday, as soon as dinner was over, Esther had intended to go to East
+Dulwich to see Mrs. Lewis. But as she closed the door behind her, she saw
+Sarah coming up the street.
+
+"Ah, I see you're going out."
+
+"It don't matter; won't you come in, if it's only for a minute?"
+
+"No, thank you, I won't keep you. But which way are you going? We might go
+a little way together."
+
+They walked down Waterloo Place and along Pall Mall. In Trafalgar Square
+there was a demonstration, and Sarah lingered in the crowd so long that
+when they arrived at Charing Cross, Esther found that she could not get to
+Ludgate Hill in time to catch her train, so they went into the Embankment
+Gardens. It had been raining, and the women wiped the seats with their
+handkerchiefs before sitting down. There was no fashion to interest them,
+and the band sounded foolish in the void of the grey London Sunday.
+Sarah's chatter was equally irrelevant, and Esther wondered how Sarah
+could talk so much about nothing, and regretted her visit to East Dulwich
+more and more. Suddenly Bill's name came into the conversation.
+
+"But I thought you didn't see him any more; you promised us you wouldn't."
+
+"I couldn't help it.... It was quite an accident. One day, coming back
+from church with Annie--that's the new housemaid--he came up and spoke to
+us."
+
+"What did he say?"
+
+"He said, 'How are ye?... Who'd thought of meeting you!'"
+
+"And what did you say?"
+
+"I said I didn't want to have nothing to do with him. Annie walked on, and
+then he said he was very sorry, that it was bad luck that drove him to
+it."
+
+"And you believed him?"
+
+"I daresay it is very foolish of me. But one can't help oneself. Did you
+ever really care for a man?"
+
+And without waiting for an answer, Sarah continued her babbling chatter.
+She had asked him not to come after her; she thought he was sorry for what
+he had done. She mentioned incidentally that he had been away in the
+country and had come back with very particular information regarding a
+certain horse for the Cesarewitch. If the horse won he'd be all right.
+
+At last Esther's patience was tired out.
+
+"It must be getting late," she said, looking towards where the sun was
+setting. The river rippled, and the edges of the warehouses had
+perceptibly softened; a wind, too, had come up with the tide, and the
+women shivered as they passed under the arch of Waterloo Bridge. They
+ascended a flight of high steps and walked through a passage into the
+Strand.
+
+"I was miserable enough with him; we used to have hardly anything to eat;
+but I'm more miserable away from him. Esther, I know you'll laugh at me,
+but I'm that heart-broken... I can't live without him... I'd do anything
+for him."
+
+"He isn't worth it."
+
+"That don't make no difference. You don't know what love is; a woman who
+hasn't loved a man who don't love her, don't. We used to live near here.
+Do you mind coming up Drury Lane? I should like to show you the house."
+
+"I'm afraid it will be out of our way."
+
+"No, it won't. Round by the church and up Newcastle Street.... Look,
+there's a shop we used to go to sometimes. I've eaten many a good sausage
+and onions in there, and that's a pub where we often used to go for a
+drink."
+
+The courts and alleys had vomited their population into the Lane. Fat
+girls clad in shawls sat around the slum opening nursing their babies. Old
+women crouched in decrepit doorways, fumbling their aprons; skipping ropes
+whirled in the roadway. A little higher up a vendor of cheap ices had set
+up his store and was rapidly absorbing all the pennies of the
+neighborhood. Esther and Sarah turned into a dilapidated court, where a
+hag argued the price of trotters with a family leaning one over the other
+out of a second-floor window. This was the block in which Sarah had lived.
+A space had been cleared by the builder, and the other side was shut in by
+the great wall of the old theatre.
+
+"That's where we used to live," said Sarah, pointing up to the third
+floor. "I fancy our house will soon come down. When I see the old place it
+all comes back to me. I remember pawning a dress over the way in the lane;
+they would only lend me a shilling on it. And you see that shop--the
+shutters is up, it being Sunday; it is a sort of butcher's, cheap meat,
+livers and lights, trotters, and such-like. I bought a bullock's heart
+there, and stewed it down with some potatoes; we did enjoy it, I can tell
+you."
+
+Sarah talked so eagerly of herself that Esther had not the heart to
+interrupt her. They made their way out into Catherine Street, and then to
+Endell Street, and then going round to St. Giles' Church, they plunged
+into the labyrinth of Soho.
+
+"I'm afraid I'm tiring you. I don't see what interest all this can be to
+you."
+
+"We've known each other a long time."
+
+Sarah looked at her, and then, unable to resist the temptation, she
+continued her narrative--Bill had said this, she had said that. She
+rattled on, until they came to the corner of Old Compton Street. Esther,
+who was a little tired of her, held out her hand. "I suppose you must be
+getting back; would you like a drop of something?"
+
+"It is going on for seven o'clock; but since you're that kind I think I'd
+like a glass of beer."
+
+"Do you listen much to the betting talk here of an evening?" Sarah asked,
+as she was leaving.
+
+"I don't pay much attention, but I can't help hearing a good deal."
+
+"Do they talk much about Ben Jonson for the Cesarewitch?"
+
+"They do, indeed; he's all the go."
+
+Sarah's face brightened perceptibly, and Esther said--
+
+"Have you backed him?'
+
+"Only a trifle; half-a-crown that a friend put me on. Do they say he'll
+win?"
+
+"They say that if he don't break down he'll win by 'alf a mile; it all
+depends on his leg."
+
+"Is he coming on in the betting?"
+
+"Yes, I believe they're now taking 12 to 1 about him. But I'll ask
+William, if you like."
+
+"No, no, I only wanted to know if you'd heard anything new."
+
+
+
+
+XXXVIII
+
+
+During the next fortnight Sarah came several times to the "King's Head."
+She came in about nine in the evening, and stayed for half-an-hour or
+more. The ostensible object of her visit was to see Esther, but she
+declined to come into the private bar, where they would have chatted
+comfortably, and remained in the public bar listening to the men's
+conversation, listening and nodding while old John explained the horse's
+staying power to her. On the following evening all her interest was in
+Ketley. She wanted to know if anything had happened that might be
+considered as an omen. She said she had dreamed about the race, but her
+dream was only a lot of foolish rubbish without head or tail. Ketley
+argued earnestly against this view of a serious subject, and in the hope
+of convincing her of her error offered to walk as far as Oxford Street
+with her and put her into her 'bus. But on the following evening all her
+interest was centered in Mr. Journeyman, who declared that he could prove
+that according to the weight it seemed to him to look more and more like a
+certainty. He had let the horse in at six stone ten pounds, the official
+handicapper had only given him six stone seven pounds.
+
+"They is a-sending of him along this week, and if the leg don't go it is a
+hundred pound to a brass farthing on the old horse."
+
+"How many times will they gallop him?" Sarah asked.
+
+"He goes a mile and a 'arf every day now.... The day after to-morrow
+they'll try him, just to see that he hasn't lost his turn of speed, and if
+he don't break down in the trial you can take it from me that it will be
+all right."
+
+"When will you know the result of the trial?"
+
+"I expect a letter on Friday morning," said Stack. "If you come in in the
+evening I'll let you know about it."
+
+"Thank you very much, Mr. Stack. I must be getting home now."
+
+"I'm going your way, Miss Tucker.... If you like, we'll go together, and
+I'll tell you," he whispered, "all about the 'orse."
+
+When they had left the bar the conversation turned on racing as an
+occupation for women.
+
+"Fancy my wife making a book on the course. I bet she'd overlay it and
+then turn round and back the favourite at a shorter price than she'd been
+laying."
+
+"I don't know that we should be any foolisher than you," said Esther;
+"don't you never go and overlay your book? What about Syntax and the 'orse
+you told me about last week?"
+
+William had been heavily hit last week through overlaying his book against
+a horse he didn't believe in, and the whole bar joined in the laugh
+against him.
+
+"I don't say nothing about bookmaking," said Journeyman; "but there's a
+great many women nowadays who is mighty sharp at spotting a 'orse that the
+handicapper had let in pretty easy."
+
+"This one," said Ketley, jerking his thumb in the direction that Stack and
+Sarah had gone, "seems to 'ave got hold of something."
+
+"We must ask Stack when he comes back," and Journeyman winked at William.
+
+"Women do get that excited over trifles," old John remarked,
+sarcastically. "She ain't got above 'alf-a-crown on the 'orse, if that.
+She don't care about the 'orse or the race--no woman ever did; it's all
+about some sweetheart that's been piling it on."
+
+"I wonder if you're right," said Esther, reflectively. "I never knew her
+before to take such an interest in a horse-race."
+
+On the day of the race Sarah came into the private bar about three
+o'clock. The news was not yet in.
+
+"Wouldn't you like to step into the parlour; you'll be more comfortable?"
+said Esther.
+
+"No thank you, dear; it is not worth while. I thought I'd like to know
+which won, that's all."
+
+"Have you much on?"
+
+"No, five shillings altogether.... But a friend of mine stands to win a
+good bit. I see you've got a new dress, dear. When did you get it?"
+
+"I've had the stuff by me some time. I only had it made up last month. Do
+you like it?"
+
+Sarah answered that she thought it very pretty. But Esther could see that
+she was thinking of something quite different.
+
+"The race is over now. It's run at half-past two."
+
+"Yes, but they're never quite punctual; there may be a delay at the post."
+
+"I see you know all about it."
+
+"One never hears of anything else."
+
+Esther asked Sarah when her people came back to town, and was surprised at
+the change of expression that the question brought to her friend's face.
+
+"They're expected back to-morrow," she said. "Why do you ask?"
+
+"Oh, nothing; something to say, that's all."
+
+The conversation paused, and the two women looked at each other. At that
+moment a voice coming rapidly towards them was heard calling, "Win-ner,
+win-ner!"
+
+"I'll send out for the paper," said Esther.
+
+"No, no... Suppose he shouldn't have won?"
+
+"Well, it won't make any difference."
+
+"Oh, Esther, no; some one will come in and tell us. The race can't be over
+yet; it is a long race, and takes some time to run."
+
+By this time the boy was far away, and fainter and fainter the terrible
+word, "Win-ner, win-ner, win-ner."
+
+"It's too late now," said Sarah; "some one'll come in presently and tell
+us about it.... I daresay it ain't the paper at all. Them boys cries out
+anything that will sell."
+
+"Win-ner, win-ner." The voice was coming towards them.
+
+"If he has won, Bill and I is to marry.... Somehow I feel as if he
+hasn't."
+
+"Win-ner."
+
+"We shall soon know." Esther took a halfpenny from the till.
+
+"Don't you think we'd better wait? It can't be printed in the papers, not
+the true account, and if it was wrong--" Esther didn't answer; she gave
+Charles the halfpenny; he went out, and in a few minutes came back with
+the paper in his hand. "Tornado first, Ben Jonson second, Woodcraft
+third," he read out. "That's a good thing for the guv'nor. There was very
+few what backed Tornado.... He's only lost some place-money."
+
+"So he was only second," said Sarah, turning deadly pale. "They said he
+was certain to win."
+
+"I hope you've not lost much," said Esther. "It wasn't with William that
+you backed him."
+
+"No, it wasn't with William. I only had a few shillings on. It don't
+matter. Let me have a drink."
+
+"What will you have?"
+
+"Some whisky."
+
+Sarah drank it neat. Esther looked at her doubtfully.
+
+The bars would be empty for the next two hours; Esther wished to utilize
+this time; she had some shopping to do, and asked Sarah to come with her.
+But Sarah complained of being tired, and said she would see her when she
+came back.
+
+Esther went out a little perplexed. She was detained longer than she
+expected, and when she returned Sarah was staggering about in the
+bar-room, asking Charles for one more drink.
+
+"All bloody rot; who says I'm drunk? I ain't... look at me. The 'orse did
+not win, did he? I say he did; papers all so much bloody rot."
+
+"Oh, Sarah, what is this?"
+
+"Who's this? Leave go, I say."
+
+"Mr. Stack, won't you ask her to come upstairs?... Don't encourage her."
+
+"Upstairs? I'm a free woman. I don't want to go upstairs. I'm a free
+woman; tell me," she said, balancing herself with difficulty and staring
+at Esther with dull, fishy eyes, "tell me if I'm not a free woman? What do
+I want upstairs for?"
+
+"Oh, Sarah, come upstairs and lie down. Don't go out."
+
+"I'm going home. Hands off, hands off!" she said, slapping Esther's hands
+from her arm.
+
+"'For every one was drunk last night,
+And drunk the night before;
+And if we don't get drunk to-night,
+We don't get drunk no more.
+
+(Chorus.)
+
+"'Now you will have a drink with me,
+And I will drink with you;
+For we're the very rowdiest lot
+Of the rowdy Irish crew.'
+
+"That's what we used to sing in the Lane, yer know; should 'ave seen the
+coster gals with their feathers, dancing and clinking their pewters.
+Rippin Day, Bank 'oliday, Epping, under the trees--'ow they did romp,
+them gals!
+
+"'We all was roaring drunk last night,
+And drunk the night before;
+And if we don't get drunk to-night,
+We won't get drunk no more.'
+
+"Girls and boys, you know, all together."
+
+"Sarah, listen to me."
+
+"Listen! Come and have a drink, old gal, just another drink." She
+staggered up to the counter. "One more, just for luck; do yer 'ear?"
+Before Charles could stop her she had seized the whisky that had just been
+served. "That's my whisky," exclaimed Journeyman. He made a rapid
+movement, but was too late. Sarah had drained the glass and stood vacantly
+looking into space. Journeyman seemed so disconcerted at the loss of his
+whisky that every one laughed.
+
+A few moments after Sarah staggered forward and fell insensible into his
+arms. He and Esther carried her upstairs and laid her on the bed in the
+spare room.
+
+"She'll be precious bad to-morrow," said Journeyman.
+
+"I don't know how you could have gone on helping her," Esther said to
+Charles when she got inside the bar; and she seemed so pained that out of
+deference to her feelings the subject was dropped out of the conversation.
+Esther felt that something shocking had happened. Sarah had deliberately
+got drunk. She would not have done that unless she had some great trouble
+on her mind. William, too, was of this opinion. Something serious must
+have happened. As they went up to their room Esther said--
+
+"It is all the fault of this betting. The neighbourhood is completely
+ruined. They're losing their 'omes and their furniture, and you'll bear
+the blame of it."
+
+"It do make me so wild to hear you talkin' that way, Esther. People will
+bet, you can't stop them. I lays fair prices, and they're sure of their
+money. Yet you says they're losin' their furniture, and that I shall have
+to bear the blame."
+
+When they got to the top of the stairs she said--
+
+"I must go and see how Sarah is."
+
+"Where am I? What's happened?... Take that candle out of my eyes.... Oh,
+my head is that painful." She fell back on the pillow, and Esther thought
+she had gone to sleep again. But she opened her eyes. "Where am I?
+...That's you, Esther?"
+
+"Yes. Can't you remember?"
+
+"No, I can't. I remember that the 'orse didn't win, but don't remember
+nothing after.... I got drunk, didn't I? It feels like it."
+
+"The 'orse didn't win, and then you took too much. It's very foolish of
+you to give way."
+
+"Give way! Drunk, what matter? I'm done for."
+
+"Did you lose much?"
+
+"It wasn't what I lost, it was what I took. I gave Bill the plate to
+pledge; it's all gone, and master and missis coming back tomorrow. Don't
+talk about it. I got drunk so that I shouldn't think of it."
+
+"Oh, Sarah, I didn't think it was as bad as that. You must tell me all
+about it."
+
+"I don't want to think about it. They'll come soon enough to take me away.
+Besides, I cannot remember nothing now. My mouth's that awful--Give me a
+drink. Never mind the glass, give me the water-bottle."
+
+She drank ravenously, and seemed to recover a little. Esther pressed her
+to tell her about the pledged plate. "You know that I'm your friend. You'd
+better tell me. I want to help you out of this scrape."
+
+"No one can help me now, I'm done for. Let them come and take me. I'll go
+with them. I shan't say nothing."
+
+"How much is it in for? Don't cry like that," Esther said, and she took
+out her handkerchief and wiped Sarah's eyes. "How much is it in for?
+Perhaps I can get my husband to lend me the money to get it out."
+
+"It's no use trying to help me.... Esther, I can't talk about it now; I
+shall go mad if I do."
+
+"Tell me how much you got on it."
+
+"Thirty pounds."
+
+It took a long time to undress her. Every now and then she made an effort,
+and another article of clothing was got off. When Esther returned to her
+room William was asleep, and Esther took him by the shoulder.
+
+"It is more serious than I thought," she shouted. "I want to tell you
+about it."
+
+"What about it?" he said, opening his eyes.
+
+"She has pledged the plate for thirty pounds to back that 'orse."
+
+"What 'orse?"
+
+"Ben Jonson."
+
+"He broke down at the bushes. If he hadn't I should have been broke up.
+The whole neighbourhood was on him. So she pledged the plate to back him.
+She didn't do that to back him herself. Some one must have put her up to
+it."
+
+"Yes, it was Bill Evans."
+
+"Ah, that blackguard put her up to it. I thought she'd left him for good.
+She promised us that she'd never speak to him again."
+
+"You see, she was that fond of him that she couldn't help herself. There's
+many that can't."
+
+"How much did they get on the plate?"
+
+"Thirty pounds."
+
+William blew a long whistle. Then, starting up in the bed, he said, "She
+can't stop here. If it comes out that it was through betting, it won't do
+this house any good. We're already suspected. There's that old sweetheart
+of yours, the Salvation cove, on the lookout for evidence of betting being
+carried on."
+
+"She'll go away in the morning. But I thought that you might lend her the
+money to get the plate out."
+
+"What! thirty pounds?"
+
+"It's a deal of money, I know; but I thought that you might be able to
+manage it. You've been lucky over this race."
+
+"Yes, but think of all I've lost this summer. This is the first bit of
+luck I've had for a long while."
+
+"I thought you might be able to manage it."
+
+Esther stood by the bedside, her knee leaned against the edge. She seemed
+to him at that moment as the best woman in the world, and he said--
+
+"Thirty pounds is no more to me than two-pence-halfpenny if you wish it,
+Esther."
+
+"I haven't been an extravagant wife, have I?" she said, getting into bed
+and taking him in her arms. "I never asked you for money before. She's my
+friend--she's yours too--we've known her all our lives. We can't see her
+go to prison, can we, Bill, without raising a finger to save her?"
+
+She had never called him Bill before, and the familiar abbreviation
+touched him, and he said--
+
+"I owe everything to you, Esther; everything that's mine is yours. But,"
+he said, drawing away so that he might see her better, "what do you say if
+I ask something of you?"
+
+"What are you going to ask me?"
+
+"I want you to say that you won't bother me no more about the betting. You
+was brought up to think it wicked. I know all that, but you see we can't
+do without it."
+
+"Do you think not?"
+
+"Don't the thirty pounds you're asking for Sarah come out of betting?"
+
+"I suppose it do."
+
+"Most certainly it do."
+
+"I can't help feeling, Bill, that we shan't always be so lucky as we have
+been."
+
+"You mean that you think that one of these days we shall have the police
+down upon us?"
+
+"Don't you sometimes think that we can't always go on without being
+caught? Every day I hear of the police being down on some betting club or
+other."
+
+"They've been down on a great number lately, but what can I do? We always
+come back to that. I haven't the health to work round from race-course to
+race-course as I used to. But I've got an idea, Esther. I've been thinking
+over things a great deal lately, and--give me my pipe--there, it's just by
+you. Now, hold the candle, like a good girl."
+
+William pulled at his pipe until it was fully lighted. He threw himself on
+his back, and then he said--
+
+"I've been thinking things over. The betting 'as brought us a nice bit of
+trade here. If we can work up the business a bit more we might, let's say
+in a year from now, be able to get as much for the 'ouse as we gave....
+What do you think of buying a business in the country, a 'ouse doing a
+steady trade? I've had enough of London, the climate don't suit me as it
+used to. I fancy I should be much better in the country, somewhere on the
+South Coast. Bournemouth way, what do you think?"
+
+Before Esther could reply William was taken with a fit of coughing, and
+his great broad frame was shaken as if it were so much paper.
+
+"I'm sure," said Esther, when he had recovered himself a little, "that a
+good deal of your trouble comes from that pipe. It's never out of your
+mouth.... I feel like choking myself."
+
+"I daresay I smoke too much.... I'm not the man I was. I can feel it plain
+enough. Put my pipe down and blow out the candle.... I didn't ask you how
+Sarah was."
+
+"Very bad. She was half dazed and didn't tell me much."
+
+"She didn't tell you where she had pledged the plate?"
+
+"No, I will ask her about that to-morrow morning." Leaning forward she
+blew out the candle. The wick smouldered red for a moment, and they fell
+asleep happy in each other's love, seeming to find new bonds of union in
+pity for their friend's misfortune.
+
+
+
+
+XXXIX
+
+
+"Sarah, you must make an effort and try to dress yourself."
+
+"Oh, I do feel that bad, I wish I was dead!"
+
+"You must not give way like that; let me help you put on your stockings."
+
+Sarah looked at Esther. "You're very good to me, but I can manage." When
+she had drawn on her stockings her strength was exhausted, and she fell
+back on the pillow.
+
+Esther waited a few minutes. "Here're your petticoats. Just tie them round
+you; I'll lend you a dressing-gown and a pair of slippers."
+
+William was having breakfast in the parlour. "Well, feeling a bit poorly?"
+he said to Sarah. "What'll you have? There's a nice bit of fried fish. Not
+feeling up to it?"
+
+"Oh, no! I couldn't touch anything." She let herself drop on the sofa.
+
+"A cup of tea'll do you good," said Esther. "You must have a cup of tea,
+and a bit of toast just to nibble. William, pour her out a cup of tea."
+
+When she had drunk the tea she said she felt a little better.
+
+"Now," said William, "let's 'ear all about it. Esther has told you, no
+doubt, that we intend to do all we can to help you."
+
+"You can't help me.... I'm done for," she replied dolefully.
+
+"I don't know about that," said William. "You gave that brute Bill Evans
+the plate to pawn, so far as I know."
+
+"There isn't much more to tell. He said the horse was sure to win. He was
+at thirty to one at that time. A thousand to thirty. Bill said with that
+money we could buy a public-house in the country. He wanted to settle
+down, he wanted to get out of--I don't want to say nothing against him. He
+said if I would only give him this chance of leading a respectable life,
+we was to be married immediately after."
+
+"He told you all that, did he? He said he'd give you a 'ome of your own, I
+know. A regular rotter; that man is about as bad as they make 'em. And you
+believed it all?"
+
+"It wasn't so much what I believed as what I couldn't help myself. He had
+got that influence over me that my will wasn't my own. I don't know how it
+is--I suppose men have stronger natures than women. I 'ardly knew what I
+was doing; it was like sleep-walking. He looked at me and said, 'You'd
+better do it.' I did it, and I suppose I'll have to go to prison for it.
+What I says is just the truth, but no one believes tales like that. How
+long do you think they'll give me?"
+
+"I hope we shall be able to get you out of this scrape. You got thirty
+pounds on the plate. Esther has told you that I'm ready to lend you the
+money to get it out."
+
+"Will you do this? You're good friends indeed.... But I shall never be
+able to pay you back such a lot of money."
+
+"We won't say nothing about paying back; all we want you to do is to say
+that you'll never see that fellow again."
+
+A change of expression came over Sarah's face, and William said, "You're
+surely not still hankering after him?"
+
+"No, indeed I'm not. But whenever I meets him he somehow gets his way with
+me. It's terrible to love a man as I love him. I know he don't really care
+for me--I know he is all you say, and yet I can't help myself. It is
+better to be honest with you."
+
+William looked puzzled. At the end of a long silence he said, "If it's
+like that I don't see that we can do anything."
+
+"Have patience, William. Sarah don't know what she's saying. She'll
+promise not to see him again."
+
+"You're very kind to me. I know I'm very foolish. I promised before not to
+see him, and I couldn't keep my promise."
+
+"You can stop with us until you get a situation in the country," said
+Esther, "where you'll be out of his way."
+
+"I might do that."
+
+"I don't like to part with my money," said William, "if it is to do no one
+any good." Esther looked at him, and he added, "It is just as Esther
+wishes, of course; I'm not giving you the money, it is she."
+
+"It is both of us," said Esther; "you'll do what I said, Sarah?"
+
+"Oh, yes, anything you say, Esther," and she flung herself into her
+friend's arms and wept bitterly.
+
+"Now we want to know where you pawned the plate," said William.
+
+"A long way from here. Bill said he knew a place where it would be quite
+safe. I was to say that my mistress left it to me; he said that would be
+sufficient.... It was in the Mile End Road."
+
+"You'd know the shop again?" said William.
+
+"But she's got the ticket," said Esther.
+
+"No, I ain't got the ticket; Bill has it."
+
+"Then I'm afraid the game's up."
+
+"Do be quiet," said Esther, angrily. "If you want to get out of lending
+the money say so and have done with it."
+
+"That's not true, Esther. If you want another thirty to pay him to give up
+the ticket, you can have it."
+
+Esther thanked her husband with one quick look. "I'm sorry," she said, "my
+temper is that hasty. But you know where he lives," she said, turning to
+the wretched woman who sat on the sofa pale and trembling.
+
+"Yes, I know where he lives--13 Milward Square, Mile End Road."
+
+"Then we've no time to lose; we must go after him at once."
+
+"No, William dear; you must not; you'd only lose your temper, and he might
+do you an injury."
+
+"An injury! I'd soon show him which was the best man of the two."
+
+"I'll not hear of it, Sarah. He mustn't go with you."
+
+"Come, Esther, don't be foolish. Let me go."
+
+He had taken his hat from the peg. Esther got between him and the door.
+
+"I forbid it," she said; "I will not let you go--perhaps to have a fight,
+and with that cough."
+
+William was coughing. He had turned pale, and he said, leaning against the
+table, "Give me something to drink, a little milk."
+
+Esther poured some into a cup. He sipped it slowly. "I'll go upstairs,"
+she said, "for my hat and jacket. You've got your betting to attend to."
+William smiled. "Sarah, mind, he's not to go with you."
+
+"You forget what you said last night about the betting."
+
+"Never mind what I said last night about the betting; what I say now is
+that you're not to leave the bar. Come upstairs, Sarah, and dress
+yourself, and let's be off."
+
+Stack and Journeyman were waiting to speak to him. They had lost heavily
+over old Ben and didn't know how they'd pull through; and the whole
+neighbourhood was in the same plight; the bar was filled with gloomy
+faces.
+
+And as William scanned their disconcerted faces--clerks, hair-dressers,
+waiters from the innumerable eating houses--he could not help thinking
+that perhaps more than one of them had taken money that did not belong to
+them to back Ben Jonson. The unexpected disaster had upset all their
+plans, and even the wary ones who had a little reserve fund could not help
+backing outsiders, hoping by the longer odds to retrieve yesterday's
+losses. At two the bar was empty, and William waited for Esther and Sarah
+to return from Mile End. It seemed to him that they were a long time away.
+But Mile End is not close to Soho; and when they returned, between four
+and five, he saw at once that they had been unsuccessful. He lifted up the
+flap in the counter and all three went into the parlour.
+
+"He left Milward Square yesterday," Esther said. "Then we went to another
+address, and then to another; we went to all the places Sarah had been to
+with him, but no tidings anywhere."
+
+Sarah burst into tears. "There's no more hope," she said. "I'm done for;
+they'll come and take me away. How much do you think I'll get? They won't
+give me ten years, will they?"
+
+"I can see nothing else for you to do," said Esther, "but to go straight
+back to your people and tell them the whole story, and throw yourself on
+their mercy."
+
+"Do you mean that she should say that she pawned the plate to get money to
+back a horse?"
+
+"Of course I do."
+
+"It will make the police more keen than ever on the betting houses."
+
+"That can't be helped."
+
+"She'd better not be took here," said William; "it will do a great deal of
+harm.... It don't make no difference to her where she's took, do it?"
+
+Esther did not answer.
+
+"I'll go away. I don't want to get no one into trouble," Sarah said, and
+she got up from the sofa.
+
+At that moment Charles opened the door, and said, "You're wanted in the
+bar, sir."
+
+William went out quickly. He returned a moment after. There was a scared
+look on his face. "They're here," he said. He was followed by two
+policemen. Sarah uttered a little cry.
+
+"Your name is Sarah Tucker?" said the first policeman.
+
+"Yes."
+
+"You're charged with robbery by Mr. Sheldon, 34, Cumberland Place."
+
+"Shall I be taken through the streets?"
+
+"If you like to pay for it, you can go in a cab," the police-officer
+replied.
+
+"I'll go with you, dear," Esther said. William plucked her by the sleeve.
+"It will do no good. Why should you go?"
+
+
+
+
+XL
+
+
+The magistrate of course sent the case for trial, and the thirty pounds
+which William had promised to give to Esther went to pay for the defence.
+There seemed at first some hope that the prosecution would not be able to
+prove its case, but fresh evidence connecting Sarah with the abstraction
+of the plate was forthcoming, and in the end it was thought advisable that
+the plea of not guilty should be withdrawn. The efforts of counsel were
+therefore directed towards a mitigation of sentence. Counsel called Esther
+and William for the purpose of proving the excellent character that the
+prisoner had hitherto borne; counsel spoke of the evil influence into
+which the prisoner had fallen, and urged that she had no intention of
+actually stealing the plate. Tempted by promises, she had been persuaded
+to pledge the plate in order to back a horse which she had been told was
+certain to win. If that horse had won, the plate would have been redeemed
+and returned to its proper place in the owner's house, and the prisoner
+would have been able to marry. Possibly the marriage on which the prisoner
+had set her heart would have turned out more unfortunate for the prisoner
+than the present proceedings. Counsel had not words strong enough to
+stigmatise the character of a man who, having induced a girl to imperil
+her liberty for his own vile ends, was cowardly enough to abandon her in
+the hour of her deepest distress. Counsel drew attention to the trusting
+nature of the prisoner, who had not only pledged her employer's plate at
+his base instigation, but had likewise been foolish enough to confide the
+pawn-ticket to his keeping. Such was the prisoner's story, and he
+submitted that it bore on the face of it the stamp of truth. A very sad
+story, but one full of simple, foolish, trusting humanity, and, having
+regard to the excellent character the prisoner had borne, counsel hoped
+that his lordship would see his way to dealing leniently with her.
+
+His Lordship, whose gallantries had been prolonged over half a century,
+and whose betting transactions were matters of public comment, pursed up
+his ancient lips and fixed his dead glassy eyes on the prisoner. He said
+he regretted that he could not take the same view of the prisoner's
+character as learned counsel had done. The police had made every effort to
+apprehend the man Evans who, according to the prisoner's story, was the
+principal culprit. But the efforts of the police had been unavailing; they
+had, however, found traces of the man Evans, who undoubtedly did exist,
+and need not be considered to be a near relative of our friend Mrs.
+Harris. And the little joke provoked some amusement in the court; learned
+counsel settled their robes becomingly and leant forward to listen. They
+were in for a humorous speech, and the prisoner would get off with a light
+sentence. But the grim smile waxed duller, and it was clear that lordship
+was determined to make the law a terror to evil-doers. Lordship drew
+attention to the fact that during the course of their investigations the
+police had discovered that the prisoner had been living for some
+considerable time with the man Evans, during which time several robberies
+had been effected. There was no evidence, it was true, to connect the
+prisoner with these robberies. The prisoner had left the man Evans and had
+obtained a situation in the house of her present employers. When the
+characters she had received from her former employers were being examined
+she had accounted for the year she had spent with the man Evans by saying
+that she had been staying with the Latches, the publicans who had given
+evidence in her favour. It had also come to the knowledge of the police
+that the man Evans used to frequent the "King's Head," that was the house
+owned by the Latches; it was probable that she had made there the
+acquaintance of the man Evans. The prisoner had referred her employers to
+the Latches, who had lent their sanction to the falsehood regarding the
+year she was supposed to have spent with them, but which she had really
+spent in cohabitation with a notorious thief. Here lordship indulged in
+severe remarks against those who enabled not wholly irreproachable
+characters to obtain situations by false pretences, a very common habit,
+and one attended with great danger to society, one which society would do
+well to take precautions to defend itself against.
+
+The plate, his Lordship remarked, was said to have been pawned, but there
+was nothing to show that it had been pawned, the prisoner's explanation
+being that she had given the pawn-ticket to the man Evans. She could not
+tell where she had pawned the plate, her tale being that she and the man
+Evans had gone down to Whitechapel together and pawned it in the Mile End
+Road. But she did not know the number of the pawnbroker's, nor could she
+give any indications as to its whereabouts--beyond the mere fact that it
+was in the Mile End Road she could say nothing. All the pawnbrokers in the
+Mile End Road had been searched, but no plate answering to the description
+furnished by the prosecution could be found.
+
+Learned counsel had endeavoured to show that it had been in a measure
+unpremeditated, that it was the result of a passing but irresistible
+temptation. Learned counsel had endeavoured to introduce some element of
+romance into the case; he had described the theft as the outcome of the
+prisoner's desire of marriage, but lordship could not find such purity of
+motive in the prisoner's crime. There was nothing to show that there was
+any thought of marriage in the prisoner's mind; the crime was the result,
+not of any desire of marriage, but rather the result of vicious passion,
+concubinage. Regarding the plea that the crime was unpremeditated, it was
+only necessary to point out that it had been committed for a distinct
+purpose and had been carried out in conjunction with an accomplished
+thief.
+
+"There is now only one more point which I wish to refer to, and that is
+the plea that the prisoner did not intend to steal the plate, but only to
+obtain money upon it to enable her and the partner in her guilt to back a
+horse for a race which they believed to be--" his Lordship was about to
+say a certainty for him; he stopped himself, however, in time--"to be, to
+be, which they believed him to be capable of winning. The race in question
+is, I think, called the Cesarewitch, and the name of the horse (lordship
+had lost three hundred on Ben Jonson), if my memory serves me right (here
+lordship fumbled amid papers), yes, the name is, as I thought, Ben Jonson.
+Now, the learned counsel for the defence suggested that, if the horse had
+won, the plate would have been redeemed and restored to its proper place
+in the pantry cupboards. This, I venture to point out, is a mere
+hypothesis. The money might have been again used for the purpose of
+gambling. I confess that I do not see why we should condone the prisoner's
+offence because it was committed for the sake of obtaining money for
+gambling purposes. Indeed, it seems to me a reason for dealing heavily
+with the offence. The vice among the poorer classes is largely on the
+increase, and it seems to me that it is the duty of all in authority to
+condemn rather than to condone the evil, and to use every effort to stamp
+it out. For my part I fail to perceive any romantic element in the vice of
+gambling. It springs from the desire to obtain wealth without work, in
+other words, without payment; work, whether in the past or the present, is
+the natural payment for wealth, and any wealth that is obtained without
+work is in a measure a fraud committed upon the community. Poverty,
+despair, idleness, and every other vice spring from gambling as naturally,
+and in the same profusion, as weeds from barren land. Drink, too, is
+gambling's firmest ally."
+
+At this moment a certain dryness in his Lordship's throat reminded him of
+the pint of excellent claret that lordship always drank with his lunch,
+and the thought enabled lordship to roll out some excellent invective
+against the evils of beer and spirits. And lordship's losses on the horse
+whose name he could hardly recall helped to a forcible illustration of the
+theory that drink and gambling mutually uphold and enforce each other.
+When the news that Ben Jonson had broken down at the bushes came in,
+lordship had drunk a magnum of champagne, and memory of this champagne
+inspired a telling description of the sinking feeling consequent on the
+loss of a wager, and the natural inclination of a man to turn to drink to
+counteract it. Drink and gambling are growing social evils; in a great
+measure they are circumstantial, and only require absolute legislation to
+stamp them out almost entirely. This was not the first case of the kind
+that had come before him; it was one of many, but it was a typical case,
+presenting all the familiar features of the vice of which he had therefore
+spoken at unusual length. Such cases were on the increase, and if they
+continued to increase, the powers of the law would have to be
+strengthened. But even as the law stood at present, betting-houses,
+public-houses in which betting was carried on, were illegal, and it was
+the duty of the police to leave no means untried to unearth the offenders
+and bring them to justice. Lordship then glanced at the trembling woman in
+the dock. He condemned her to eighteen months' hard labour, and gathering
+up the papers on the desk, dismissed her for ever from his mind.
+
+The court adjourned for lunch, and Esther and William edged their way out
+of the crowd of lawyers and their clerks. Neither spoke for some time.
+William was much exercised by his Lordship's remarks on betting
+public-houses, and his advice that the police should increase their
+vigilance and leave no means untried to uproot that which was the curse
+and the ruin of the lower classes. It was the old story, one law for the
+rich, another for the poor. William did not seek to probe the question any
+further, this examination seemed to him to have exhausted it; and he
+remembered, after all that the hypocritical judge had said, how difficult
+it would be to escape detection. When he was caught he would be fined a
+hundred pounds, and probably lose his licence. What would he do then? He
+did not confide his fears to Esther. She had promised to say no more about
+the betting; but she had not changed her opinion. She was one of those
+stubborn ones who would rather die than admit they were wrong. Then he
+wondered what she thought of his Lordship's speech. Esther was thinking of
+the thin gruel Sarah would have to eat, the plank bed on which she would
+have to sleep, and the miserable future that awaited her when she should
+be released from gaol.
+
+It was a bright winter's day; the City folk were walking rapidly, tightly
+buttoned up in top-coats, and in a windy sky a flock of pigeons floated on
+straightened wings above the telegraph wires. Fleet Street was full of
+journalists going to luncheon-bars and various eating-houses. Their hurry
+and animation were remarkable, and Esther noticed how laggard was
+William's walk by comparison, how his clothes hung loose about him, and
+that the sharp air was at work on his lungs, making him cough. She asked
+him to button himself up more closely.
+
+"Is not that old John's wife?" Esther said.
+
+"Yes, that's her," said William. "She'd have seen us if that cove hadn't
+given her the shilling.... Lord, I didn't think they was as badly off as
+that. Did you ever see such rags? and that thick leg wrapped up in that
+awful stocking."
+
+The morning had been full of sadness, and Mrs. Randal's wandering rags had
+seemed to Esther like a foreboding. She grew frightened, as the cattle do
+in the fields when the sky darkens and the storm draws near. She suddenly
+remembered Mrs. Barfield, and she heard her telling her of the unhappiness
+that she had seen come from betting. Where was Mrs. Barfield? Should she
+ever see her again? Mr. Barfield was dead, Miss May was forced to live
+abroad for the sake of her health; all that time of long ago was over and
+done with. Some words that Mrs. Barfield had said came back to her; she
+had never quite understood them, but she had never quite forgotten them;
+they seemed to chime through her life. "My girl," Mrs. Barfield had said,
+"I am more than twenty years older than you, and I assure you that time
+has passed like a little dream; life is nothing. We must think of what
+comes after."
+
+"Cheer up, old girl; eighteen months is a long while, but it ain't a
+lifetime. She'll get through it all right; and when she comes out we'll
+try to see what we can do for her."
+
+William's voice startled Esther from the depth of her dream; she looked at
+him vaguely, and he saw that she had been thinking of something different
+from what he had suspected. "I thought it was on account of Sarah that you
+was looking so sad."
+
+"No," she said, "I was not thinking of Sarah."
+
+Then, taking it for granted that she was thinking of the wickedness of
+betting, his face darkened. It was aggravating to have a wife who was
+always troubling about things that couldn't be helped. The first person
+they saw on entering the bar was old John; and he sat in the corner of the
+bar on a high stool, his grey, death-like face sunk in the old unstarched
+shirt collar. The thin, wrinkled throat was hid with the remains of a
+cravat; it was passed twice round, and tied according to the fashions of
+fifty years ago. His boots were broken; the trousers, a grey, dirty brown,
+were torn as high up as the ankle; they had been mended and the patches
+hardly held together; the frock coat, green with age, with huge flaps over
+the pockets, frayed and torn, and many sizes too large, hung upon his
+starveling body. He seemed very feeble, and there was neither light nor
+expression in his glassy, watery eyes.
+
+"Eighteen months; a devil of a stiff sentence for a first offence," said
+William.
+
+"I just dropped in. Charles said you'd sure to be back. You're later than
+I expected."
+
+"We stopped to have a bit of lunch. But you heard what I said. She got
+eighteen months."
+
+"Who got eighteen months?"
+
+"Sarah."
+
+"Ah, Sarah. She was tried to-day. So she got eighteen months."
+
+"What's the matter? Wake up; you're half asleep. What will you have to
+drink?"
+
+"A glass of milk, if you've got such a thing."
+
+"Glass of milk! What is it, old man--not feeling well?"
+
+"Not very well. The fact is, I'm starving."
+
+"Starving! ...Then come into the parlour and have something to eat. Why
+didn't you say so before?"
+
+"I didn't like to."
+
+He led the old chap into the parlour and gave him a chair. "Didn't like to
+tell me that you was as hard up as all that? What do you mean? You didn't
+use to mind coming round for half a quid."
+
+"That was to back a horse; but I didn't like coming to ask for
+food--excuse me, I'm too weak to speak much."
+
+When old John had eaten, William asked how it was that things had gone so
+badly with him.
+
+"I've had terrible bad luck lately, can't get on a winner nohow. I have
+backed 'orses that 'as been tried to win with two stone more on their
+backs than they had to carry, but just because I was on them they didn't
+win. I don't know how many half-crowns I've had on first favourites. Then
+I tried the second favourites, but they gave way to outsiders or the first
+favourites when I took to backing them. Stack's tips and Ketley's omens
+was all the same as far as I was concerned. It's a poor business when
+you're out of luck."
+
+"It is giving way to fancy that does for the backers. The bookmaker's
+advantage is that he bets on principle and not on fancy."
+
+Old John told how unlucky he had been in business. He had been dismissed
+from his employment in the restaurant, not from any fault of his own, he
+had done his work well. "But they don't like old waiters; there's always a
+lot of young Germans about, and customers said I smelt bad. I suppose it
+was my clothes and want of convenience at home for keeping one's self
+tidy. We've been so hard up to pay the three and sixpence rent which we've
+owed, that the black coat and waistkit had to go to the pawnshop, so even
+if I did meet with a job in the Exhibition places, where they ain't so
+particular about yer age, I should not be able to take it. It's terrible
+to think that I should have to come to this and after having worked round
+the table this forty years, fifty pounds a year and all found, and
+accustomed always to a big footman and page-boy under me. But there's
+plenty more like me. It's a poor game. You're well out of it. I suppose
+the end of it will be the work'us. I'm pretty well wore out, and--"
+
+The old man's voice died away. He made no allusion to his wife. His
+dislike to speak of her was part and parcel of his dislike to speak of his
+private affairs. The conversation then turned on Sarah; the severity of
+the sentence was alluded to, and William spoke of how the judge's remarks
+would put the police on the watch, and how difficult it would be to
+continue his betting business without being found out.
+
+"There's no doubt that it is most unfortunate," said old John.
+
+"The only thing for you to do is to be very particular about yer
+introductions, and to refuse to bet with all who haven't been properly
+introduced."
+
+"Or to give up betting altogether," said Esther.
+
+"Give up betting altogether!" William answered, his face flushed, and he
+gradually worked himself into a passion. "I give you a good 'ome, don't I?
+You want for nothing, do yer? Well, that being so, I think you might keep
+your nose out of your husband's business. There's plenty of
+prayer-meetings where you can go preaching if you like."
+
+William would have said a good deal more, but his anger brought on a fit
+of coughing. Esther looked at him contemptuously, and without answering
+she walked into the bar.
+
+"That's a bad cough of yours," said old John.
+
+"Yes," said William, and he drank a little water to pass it off. "I must
+see the doctor about it. It makes one that irritable. The missis is in a
+pretty temper, ain't she?"
+
+Old John did not reply; it was not his habit to notice domestic
+differences of opinion, especially those in which women had a share--queer
+cattle that he knew nothing about. The men talked for a long time
+regarding the danger the judge's remarks had brought the house into; and
+they considered all the circumstances of the case. Allusion was made to
+the injustice of the law, which allowed the rich and forbade the poor to
+bet; anecdotes were related, but nothing they said threw new light on the
+matter in hand, and when Old John rose to go William summed up the
+situation in these few words--
+
+"Bet I must, if I'm to get my living. The only thing I can do is to be
+careful not to bet with strangers."
+
+"I don't see how they can do nothing to you if yer makes that yer
+principle and sticks to it," said old John, and he put on the huge-rimmed,
+greasy hat, three sizes too large for him, looking in his square-cut
+tattered frock-coat as queer a specimen of humanity as you would be likely
+to meet with in a day's walk. "If you makes that yer principle and sticks
+to it," thought William.
+
+But practice and principle are never reduced to perfect agreement. One is
+always marauding the other's territory; nevertheless for several months
+principle distinctly held the upper hand; William refused over and over
+again to make bets with comparative strangers, but the day came when his
+principle relaxed, and he took the money of a man whom he thought was all
+right. It was done on the impulse of the moment, but the two half-crowns
+wrapped up in the paper, with the name of the horse written on the paper,
+had hardly gone into the drawer than he felt that he had done wrong. He
+couldn't tell why, but the feeling came across him that he had done wrong
+in taking the man's money--a tall, clean-shaven man dressed in broadcloth.
+It was too late to draw back. The man had finished his beer and had left
+the bar, which in itself was suspicious.
+
+Three days afterwards, between twelve and one, just the busiest time, when
+the bar was full of people, there came a cry of "Police!" An effort was
+made to hide the betting plant; a rush was made for the doors. It was all
+too late; the sergeant and a constable ordered that no one was to leave
+the house; other police were outside. The names and addresses of all
+present were taken down; search was made, and the packets of money and the
+betting books were discovered. Then they all had to go to Marlborough
+Street.
+
+
+
+
+XLI
+
+
+Next day the following account was given in most of the daily
+papers:--"Raid on a betting man in the West End. William Latch, 35,
+landlord of the 'King's Head,' Dean Street, Soho, was charged that he,
+being a licensed person, did keep and use his public-house for the purpose
+of betting with persons resorting thereto. Thomas William, 35, billiard
+marker, Gaulden Street, Battersea; Arthur Henry Parsons, 25, waiter,
+Northumberland Street, Marylebone; Joseph Stack, 52, gentleman; Harold
+Journeyman, 45, gentleman, High Street, Norwood; Philip Hutchinson,
+grocer, Bisey Road, Fulham; William Tann, piano-tuner, Standard Street,
+Soho; Charles Ketley, butterman, Green Street, Soho; John Randal, Frith
+Street, Soho; Charles Muller, 44, tailor, Marylebone Lane; Arthur Bartram,
+stationer, East Street Buildings; William Burton, harness maker, Blue Lion
+Street, Bond Street, were charged with using the 'King's Head' for the
+purpose of betting. Evidence was given by the police regarding the room
+upstairs, where a good deal of drinking went on after hours. There had
+been cases of disorder, and the magistrate unfortunately remembered that a
+servant-girl, who had pledged her master's plate to obtain money to back a
+horse, had been arrested in the 'King's Head.' Taking these facts into
+consideration, it seemed to him that he could not do less than inflict a
+fine of £100. The men who were found in Latch's house he ordered to be
+bound over."
+
+Who had first given information? That was the question. Old John sat
+smoking in his corner. Journeyman leaned against the yellow-painted
+partition, his legs thrust out. Stack stood square, his dark,
+crimson-tinted skin contrasting with sallow-faced little Ketley.
+
+"Don't the omens throw no light on this 'ere matter?" said Journeyman.
+
+Ketley started from his reverie.
+
+"Ah," said William, "if I only knew who the b---- was."
+
+"Ain't you got no idea of any sort?" said Stack.
+
+"There was a Salvation chap who came in some months ago and told my wife
+that the betting was corrupting the neighbourhood. That it would have to
+be put a stop to. It may 'ave been 'e."
+
+"You don't ask no one to bet with you. They does as they like."
+
+"Does as they like! No one does that nowadays. There's a temperance party,
+a purity party, and a hanti-gambling party, and what they is working for
+is just to stop folk from doing as they like."
+
+"That's it," said Journeyman.
+
+Stack raised his glass to his lips and said, "Here's luck."
+
+"There's not much of that about," said William. "We seem to be losing all
+round. I'd like to know where the money goes. I think it is the 'ouse;
+it's gone unlucky, and I'm thinking of clearing out."
+
+"We may live in a 'ouse a long while before we find what its luck really
+is," said Ketley. "I've been in my old 'ouse these twenty years, and it
+ain't nothing like what I thought it."
+
+"You are that superstitious," said Journeyman. "If there was anything the
+matter with the 'ouse you'd've know'd it before now."
+
+"Ain't you doing the trade you was?" said Stack.
+
+"No, my butter and egg trade have fallen dreadful lately."
+
+The conversation paused. It was Stack who broke the silence.
+
+"Do you intend to do no more betting 'ere?" he asked.
+
+"What, after being fined £100? You 'eard the way he went on about Sarah,
+and all on account of her being took here. I think he might have left
+Sarah out."
+
+"It warn't for betting she took the plate," said Journeyman; "it was
+'cause her chap said if she did he'd marry her."
+
+"I wonder you ever left the course," said Stack.
+
+"It was on account of my 'ealth. I caught a dreadful cold at Kempton,
+standing about in the mud. I've never quite got over that cold."
+
+"I remember," said Ketley; "you couldn't speak above a whisper for two
+months."
+
+"Two months! more like three."
+
+"Fourteen weeks," said Esther.
+
+She was in favour of disposing of the house and going to live in the
+country. But it was soon found that the conviction for keeping a
+betting-house had spoiled their chance of an advantageous sale. If,
+however, the licence were renewed next year, and the business did not in
+the meantime decline, they would be in a position to obtain better terms.
+So all their energies should be devoted to the improvement of their
+business. Esther engaged another servant, and she provided the best meat
+and vegetables that money could buy; William ordered beer and spirits of a
+quality that could be procured nowhere else in the neighbourhood; but all
+to no purpose. As soon as it became known that it was no longer possible
+to pass half a crown or a shilling wrapped up in a piece of paper across
+the bar, their custom began to decline.
+
+At last William could stand it no longer, and he obtained his wife's
+permission to once more begin book-making on the course. His health had
+begun to improve with the spring weather, and there was no use keeping him
+at home eating his heart out with vexation because they were doing no
+business. So did Esther reason, and it reminded her of old times when he
+came back with his race-glasses slung round his shoulder. "Favourites all
+beaten today; what have you got for me to eat, old girl?" Esther forgot
+her dislike of racing in the joy of seeing her husband happy, if he'd only
+pick up a bit of flesh; but he seemed to get thinner and thinner, and his
+food didn't seem to do him any good.
+
+One day he came home complaining that the ring was six inches of soft mud;
+he was wet to the skin, and he sat shivering the whole evening, with the
+sensation of a long illness upon him. He was laid up for several weeks,
+and his voice seemed as if it would never return to him again. There was
+little or no occupation for him in the bar; and instead of laying he began
+to take the odds. He backed a few winners, it is true; but they could not
+rely on that. Most of their trade had slipped from them, so it did not
+much matter to them if they were found out. He might as well be hung for
+an old sheep as a lamb, and surreptitiously at first, and then more
+openly, he began to take money across the bar, and with every shilling he
+took for a bet another shilling was spent in drink. Custom came back in
+ripples, and then in stronger waves, until once again the bar of the
+"King's Head" was full to overflowing. Another conviction meant ruin, but
+they must risk it, so said William; and Esther, like a good wife,
+acquiesced in her husband's decision. But he took money only from those
+whom he was quite sure of. He required an introduction, and was careful to
+make inquiries concerning every new backer. "In this way," he said to
+Ketley, "so long as one is content to bet on a small scale, I think it can
+be kept dark; but if you try to extend your connection you're bound to
+come across a wrong 'un sooner or later. It was that room upstairs that
+did for me."
+
+"I never did think much of that room upstairs," said Ketley. "There was a
+something about it that I didn't like. Be sure you never bet in that jug
+and bottle bar, whatever you do. There's just the same look there as in
+the room upstairs. Haven't you noticed it?"
+
+"Can't say I've, nor am I sure that I know exactly what you mean."
+
+"If you don't see it, you don't see it; but it's plain enough to me, and
+don't you bet with nobody standing in that bar. I wouldn't go in there for
+a sovereign."
+
+William laughed. He thought at first that Ketley was joking, but he soon
+saw that Ketley regarded the jug and bottle entrance with real suspicion.
+When pressed to explain, he told Journeyman that it wasn't that he was
+afraid of the place, he merely didn't like it. "There's some places that
+you likes better than others, ain't they?" Journeyman was obliged to
+confess that there were.
+
+"Well, then, that's one of the places I don't like. Don't you hear a voice
+talking there, a soft, low voice, with a bit of a jeer in it?"
+
+On another occasion he shaded his eyes and peered curiously into the
+left-hand corner.
+
+"What are you looking at?" asked Journeyman.
+
+"At nothing that you can see," Ketley answered; and he drank his whisky as
+if lost in consideration of grave and difficult things. A few weeks later
+they noticed that he always got as far from the jug and bottle entrance as
+possible, and he was afflicted with a long story concerning a danger that
+awaited him. "He's waiting; but nothing will happen if I don't go in
+there. He can't follow me; he is waiting for me to go to him."
+
+"Then keep out of his way," said Journeyman. "You might ask your bloody
+friend if he can tell us anything about the Leger."
+
+"I'm trying to keep out of his way, but he's always watching and
+a-beckoning of me."
+
+"Can you see him now?" asked Stack.
+
+"Yes," said Ketley; "he's a-sitting there, and he seems to say that if I
+don't come to him worse will happen."
+
+"Don't say nothing to him," William whispered to Journeyman. "I don't
+think he's quite right in 'is 'ead; he's been losing a lot lately."
+
+One day Journeyman was surprised to see Ketley sitting quite composedly in
+the jug and bottle bar.
+
+"He got me at last; I had to go, the whispering got so loud in my head as
+I was a-coming down the street. I tried to get out into the middle of the
+street, but a drunken chap pushed me across the pavement, and he was at
+the door waiting, and he said, 'Now, you'd better come in; you know what
+will happen if you don't.'"
+
+"Don't talk rot, old pal; come round and have a drink with us."
+
+"I can't just at present--I may later on."
+
+"What do he mean?" said Stack.
+
+"Lord, I don't know," said Journeyman. "It's only his wandering talk."
+
+They tried to discuss the chances of the various horses they were
+interested in, but they could not detach their thoughts from Ketley, and
+their eyes went back to the queer little sallow-faced man who sat on a
+high stool in the adjoining bar paring his nails.
+
+They felt something was going to happen, and before they could say the
+word he had plunged the knife deep into his neck, and had fallen heavily
+on the floor. William vaulted over the counter. As he did so he felt
+something break in his throat, and when Stack and Journeyman came to his
+assistance he was almost as white as the corpse at his feet. Blood flowed
+from his mouth and from Ketley's neck in a deep stream that swelled into a
+great pool and thickened on the sawdust.
+
+"It was jumping over that bar," William replied, faintly.
+
+"I'll see to my husband," said Esther.
+
+A rush of blood cut short his words, and, leaning on his wife, he walked
+feebly round into the back parlour. Esther rang the bell violently.
+
+"Go round at once to Doctor Green," she said; "and if he isn't in inquire
+which is the nearest. Don't come back without a doctor."
+
+William had broken a small blood-vessel, and the doctor said he would have
+to be very careful for a long time. It was likely to prove a long case.
+But Ketley had severed the jugular at one swift, keen stroke, and had died
+almost instantly. Of course there was an inquest, and the coroner asked
+many questions regarding the habits of the deceased. Mrs. Ketley was one
+of the witnesses called, and she deposed that he had lost a great deal of
+money lately in betting, and that he went to the "King's Head" for the
+purpose of betting. The police deposed that the landlord of the "King's
+Head" had been fined a hundred pounds for keeping a betting-house, and the
+foreman of the jury remarked that betting-houses were the ruin of the
+poorer classes, and that they ought to be put a stop to. The coroner added
+that such places as the "King's Head" should not be licensed. That was the
+simplest and most effectual way of dealing with the nuisance.
+
+"There never was no luck about this house," said William, "and what there
+was has left us; in three months' time we shall be turned out of it neck
+and crop. Another conviction would mean a fine of a couple of hundred, or
+most like three months, and that would just about be the end of me."
+
+"They'll never license us again," said Esther, "and the boy at school and
+doing so well."
+
+"I'm sorry, Esther, to have brought this trouble on you. We must do the
+best we can, get the best price we can for the 'ouse. I may be lucky
+enough to back a few winners. That's all there is to be said--the 'ouse
+was always an unlucky one. I hate the place, and shall be glad to get out
+of it."
+
+Esther sighed. She didn't like to hear the house spoken ill of, and after
+so many years it did seem a shame.
+
+
+
+
+XLII
+
+
+Esther kept William within doors during the winter months. If his health
+did not improve it got no worse, and she had begun to hope that the
+breakage of the blood-vessel did not mean lung disease. But the harsh
+winds of spring did not suit him, and there was business with his lawyer
+to which he was obliged to attend. A determined set was going to be made
+against the renewal of his licence, and he was determined to defeat his
+opponents. Counsel was instructed, and a great deal of money was spent on
+the case. But the licence was nevertheless refused, and the north-east
+wind did not cease to rattle; it seemed resolved on William's death, and
+with a sick husband on her hands, and all the money they had invested in
+the house irreparably lost, Esther began to make preparations for moving.
+
+William had proved a kind husband, and in the seven years she had spent in
+the "King's Head" there had been some enjoyment of life. She couldn't say
+that she had been unhappy. She had always disapproved of the betting. They
+had tried to do without it. There was a great deal in life which one
+couldn't approve of. But Ketley had never been very right in his head, and
+Sarah's misfortune had had very little to do with the "King's Head." They
+had all tried to keep her from that man; it was her own fault. There were
+worse places than the "King's Head." It wasn't for her to abuse it. She
+had lived there seven years; she had seen her boy growing up--he was
+almost a young man now, and had had the best education. That much good the
+"King's Head" had done. But perhaps it was no longer suited to William's
+health. The betting, she was tired thinking about that; and that constant
+nipping, it was impossible for him to keep from it with every one asking
+him to drink with them. A look of fear and distress passed across her
+face, and she stopped for a moment....
+
+She was rolling up a pair of curtains. She did not know how they were to
+live, that was the worst of it. If they only had back the money they had
+sunk in the house she would not so much mind. That was what was so hard to
+bear; all that money lost, just as if they had thrown it into the river.
+Seven years of hard work--for she had worked hard--and nothing to show
+for it. If she had been doing the grand lady all the time it would have
+been no worse. Horses had won and horses had lost--a great deal of trouble
+and fuss and nothing to show for it. That was what stuck in her throat.
+Nothing to show for it. She looked round the dismantled walls, and
+descended the vacant staircase. She would never serve another pint of beer
+in that bar. What a strong, big fellow he was when she first went to live
+with him! He was sadly changed. Would she ever see him strong and well
+again? She remembered he had told her that he was worth nearly £3000. She
+hadn't brought him luck. He wasn't worth anything like that to-day.
+
+"How much have we in the bank, dear?"
+
+"A bit over six hundred pounds. I was reckoning of it up yesterday. But
+what do you want to know for? To remind me that I've been losing. Well, I
+have been losing. I hope you're satisfied."
+
+"I wasn't thinking of such a thing."
+
+"Yes, you was, there's no use saying you wasn't. It ain't my fault if the
+'orses don't win; I do the best I can."
+
+She did not answer him. Then he said, "It's my 'ealth that makes me
+irritable, dear; you aren't angry, are you?"
+
+"No, dear, I know you don't mean it, and I don't pay no attention to it."
+She spoke so gently that he looked at her surprised, for he remembered her
+quick temper, and he said, "You're the best wife a man ever had."
+
+"No, I'm not, Bill, but I tries to do my best."
+
+The spring was the harshest ever known, and his cough grew worse and the
+blood-spitting returned. Esther grew seriously alarmed. Their doctor spoke
+of Brompton Hospital, and she insisted on his going there to be examined.
+William would not have her come with him; and she did not press the point,
+fearing to irritate him, but sat at home waiting anxiously for him to
+return, hoping against hope, for their doctor had told her that he feared
+very long trouble. And she could tell from his face and manner that he had
+bad news for her. All her strength left her, but she conquered her
+weakness and said--
+
+"Now tell me what they said. I've a right to know; I want to know."
+
+"They said it was consumption."
+
+"Oh, did they say that?"
+
+"Yes, but they don't mean that I'm going to die. They said they hoped they
+could patch me up; people often live for years with only half a lung, and
+it is only the left one that's gone."
+
+He coughed slightly and wiped the blood from his lips. Esther was quite
+overcome.
+
+"Now, don't look like that," he said, "or I shall fancy I'm going to die
+to-morrow."
+
+"They said they thought that they could patch you up?"
+
+"Yes; they said I might go on a long while yet, but that I would never be
+the man I was."
+
+This was so obvious she could not check a look of pity.
+
+"If you're going to look at me like that I'd sooner go into the hospital
+at once. It ain't the cheerfulest of places, but it will be better than
+here."
+
+"I'm sorry it was consumption. But if they said they could patch you up,
+it will be all right. It was a great deal for them to say."
+
+Her duty was to overcome her grief and speak as if the doctors had told
+him that there was nothing the matter that a little careful nursing would
+fail to put right. William had faith in the warm weather, and she resolved
+to put her trust in it. It was hard to see him wasting away before her
+eyes and keep cheerful looks in her face and an accent of cheerfulness in
+heir voice. The sunshine which had come at last seemed to suck up all the
+life that was in him; he grew paler, and withered like a plant. Then
+ill-luck seemed to have joined in the hunt; he could not "touch" a winner,
+and their fortune drained away with his life. Favourites and outsiders, it
+mattered not; whatever he backed lost; and Esther dreaded the cry
+"Win-ner, all the win-ner!" He sat on the little balcony in the sunny
+evenings looking down the back street for the boy to appear with the
+"special." Then she had to go and fetch the paper. On the rare occasions
+when he won, the spectacle was even more painful. He brightened up, his
+thin arm and hand moved nervously, and he began to make projects and
+indulge in hopes which she knew were vain.
+
+She insisted, however, on his taking regularly the medicine they gave him
+at the hospital, and this was difficult to do. For his irritability
+increased in measure as he perceived the medicine was doing him no good;
+he found fault with the doctors, railed against them unjustly, and all the
+while the little; cough continued, and the blood-spitting returned at the
+end of cruel intervals, when he had begun to hope that at least that
+trouble was done with. One morning he told his wife that he was going to
+ask the doctors to examine him again. They had spoken of patching up; but
+he wanted to know whether he was going to live or die. There was a certain
+relief in hearing him speak so plainly; she had had enough of the torture
+of hope, and would like to know the worst. He liked better to go to the
+hospital alone, but she felt that she could not sit at home counting the
+minutes for him to return, and begged to be allowed to go with him. To her
+surprise, he offered no opposition. She had expected that her request
+would bring about quite a little scene, but he had taken it so much as a
+matter of course that she should accompany him that she was doubly glad
+that she had proposed to go with him; if she hadn't he might have accused
+her of neglecting him. She put on her hat; the day was too hot for a
+jacket; it was the beginning of August; the town was deserted, and the
+streets looked as if they were about to evaporate or lie down exhausted,
+and the poor, dry, dusty air that remained after the season was too poor
+even for Esther's healthy lungs; it made William cough, and she hoped the
+doctors would order him to the seaside.
+
+From the top of their omnibus they could see right across the plateau of
+the Green Park, dry and colourless like a desert; as they descended the
+hill they noticed that autumn was already busy in the foliage; lower down
+the dells were full of fallen leaves. At Hyde Park Corner the blown dust
+whirled about the hill-top; all along St. George's Place glimpses of the
+empty Park appeared through the railings. The wide pavements, the Brompton
+Road, and a semi-detached public-house at the cross-roads, announced
+suburban London to the Londoner.
+
+"You see," said William, "where them trees are, where the road turns off
+to the left. That 'ouse is the 'Bell and Horns.' That's the sort of house
+I should like to see you in."
+
+"It's a pity we didn't buy it when we had the money."
+
+"Buy it! That 'ouse is worth ten thousand pounds if it's worth a penny."
+
+"I was once in a situation not far from here. I like the Fulham Road; it's
+like a long village street, ain't it?"
+
+Her first service was with Mrs. Dunbar, in Sydney Street, and she
+remembered the square church tower at the Chelsea end; a little further on
+there was the Vestry Hall in the King's Road, and then Oakley Street on
+the left, leading down to Battersea. Mrs. Dunbar used to go to some
+gardens at the end of the King's Road. Cremorne Gardens, that was the
+name; there used to be fire-works there, and she often spent the evening
+at the back window watching the rockets go up. That was just before Lady
+Elwin had got her the situation as kitchen-maid at Woodview. She
+remembered the very shops--there was Palmer's the butterman, and there was
+Hyde's the grocer's. Everything was just as she had left it. How many
+years ago? Fifteen or sixteen. So enwrapped was she in memories that
+William had to touch her. "Here we are," he said; "don't you remember the
+place?"
+
+She remembered very well that great red brick building, a centrepiece with
+two wings, surrounded by high iron railings lined with gloomy shrubs. The
+long straight walks, the dismal trees arow, where pale-faced men walked or
+rested feebly, had impressed themselves on her young mind--thin, patient
+men, pacing their sepulchre. She had wondered who they were, if they would
+get well; and then, quick with sensation of lingering death, she had
+hurried away on her errands. The low wooden yellow-painted gates were
+unchanged. She had never before seen them open, and it was new to her to
+see the gardens filled with bright sunshine and numerous visitors. There
+were flowers in the beds, and the trees were beautiful in their leafage. A
+little yellow was creeping through, and from time to time a leaf fell
+exhausted from the branches.
+
+William, who was already familiar with the custom of the place, nodded to
+the porter and was let pass without question. He did not turn to the
+principal entrance in the middle of the building, but went towards a side
+entrance. The house physician was standing near it talking with a young
+man whom Esther recognised as Mr. Alden. The thought that he, too, might
+be dying of consumption crossed her mind, but his appearance and his
+healthy, hearty laugh reassured her. A stout, common girl, healthy too,
+came out of the building with a child, a little thing of twelve or
+thirteen, with death in her face. Mr. Alden stopped her, and in his
+cheerful, kind manner hoped the little one was better. She answered that
+she was. The doctor bade him good-bye and beckoned William and Esther to
+follow him. Esther would have liked to have spoken to Mr. Alden. But he
+did not see her, and she followed her husband, who was talking with the
+doctor, through the doorway into a long passage. At the end of the passage
+there were a number of girls in print dresses. The gaiety of the dresses
+led Esther to think that they must be visitors. But the little cough
+warned her that death was amongst them. As she went past she caught sight
+of a wasted form in a bath-chair. The thin hands were laid on the knees,
+on a little handkerchief, and there were spots on the whiteness deeper
+than the colour of the dress. They passed down another passage, meeting a
+sister on their way; pretty and discreet she was in her black dress and
+veil, and she raised her eyes, glancing affectionately at the young
+doctor. No doubt they loved each other. The eternal love-story among so
+much death!
+
+Esther wished to be present at the examination, but a sudden whim made
+William say that he would prefer to be alone with the doctor, and she
+returned to the gardens. Mr. Alden had not yet gone. He stood with his
+back turned to her. The little girl she had seen him speaking to was
+sitting on a bench under the trees; she held in her hands a skein of
+yellow worsted which her companion was winding into a ball. Two other
+young women were with them and all four were smiling and whispering and
+looking towards Mr. Alden. They evidently sought to attract his attention,
+and wished him to come and speak to them. Just the natural desire of women
+to please, and moved by the pathos of this poor coquetting, he went to
+them, and Esther could see that they all wanted to talk to him. She too
+would have liked to have spoken to him; he was an old friend. And she
+walked up the grounds, intending to pass by him as she walked back. His
+back was still turned to her, and they were all so interested that they
+gave no heed to anything else. One of the young women had an exceedingly
+pretty face. A small oval, perfectly snow-white, and large blue eyes
+shaded with long dark lashes; a little aquiline nose; and Esther heard her
+say, "I should be well enough if it wasn't for the cough. It isn't no
+better since--" The cough interrupted the end of the sentence, and
+affecting to misunderstand her, Mr. Alden said--
+
+"No better than it was a week ago."
+
+"A week ago!" said the poor girl. "It is no better since Christmas."
+
+There was surprise in her voice, and the pity of it took Mr. Alden in the
+throat, and it was with difficulty that he answered that "he hoped that
+the present fine weather would enable her to get well. Such weather as
+this," he said, "is as good as going abroad."
+
+This assertion was disputed. One of the women had been to Australia for
+her health, and the story of travel was interspersed by the little coughs,
+terrible in their apparent insignificance. But it was Mr. Alden that the
+others wished to hear speak; they knew all about their companion's trip to
+Australia, and in their impatience their eyes went towards Esther. So Mr.
+Alden became aware of a new presence, and he turned.
+
+"What! is it you, Esther?"
+
+"Yes, sir."
+
+"But there doesn't seem much the matter with you. You're all right."
+
+"Yes, I'm all right, sir; it's my husband."
+
+They walked a few yards up the path.
+
+"Your husband! I'm very sorry."
+
+"He's been an out-door patient for some time; he's being examined by the
+doctors now."
+
+"Whom did you marry, Esther?"
+
+"William Latch, a betting man, sir."
+
+"You married a betting man, Esther? How curiously things do work out! I
+remember you were engaged to a pious young man, the stationer's foreman.
+That was when you were with Miss Rice; you know, I suppose, that she's
+dead."
+
+"No, sir, I didn't know it. I've had so much trouble lately that I've not
+been to see her for nearly two years. When did she die, sir?"
+
+"About two months ago. So you married a betting man! Miss Rice did say
+something about it, but I don't think I understood that he was a betting
+man; I thought he was a publican."
+
+"So he was, sir. We lost our licence through the betting."
+
+"You say he's being examined by the doctor. Is it a bad case?"
+
+"I'm afraid it is, sir."
+
+They walked on in silence until they reached the gate.
+
+"To me this place is infinitely pathetic. That little cough never silent
+for long. Did you hear that poor girl say with surprise that her cough is
+no better than it was last Christmas?"
+
+"Yes, sir. Poor girl, I don't think she's long for this world."
+
+"But tell me about your husband, Esther," he said, and his face filled
+with an expression of true sympathy. "I'm a subscriber, and if your
+husband would like to become an in-door patient, I hope you'll let me
+know."
+
+"Thank you, sir; you was always the kindest, but there's no reason why I
+should trouble you. Some friends of ours have already recommended him, and
+it only rests with himself to remain out or go in."
+
+He pulled out his watch and said, "I am sorry to have met you in such sad
+circumstances, but I'm glad to have seen you. It must be seven years or
+more since you left Miss Rice. You haven't changed much; you keep your
+good looks."
+
+"Oh, sir."
+
+He laughed at her embarrassment and walked across the road hailing a
+hansom, just as he used to in old times when he came to see Miss Rice. The
+memory of those days came back upon her. It was strange to meet him again
+after so many years. She felt she had seen him now for the last time. But
+it was foolish and wicked, too, to think of such things; her husband
+dying.... But she couldn't help it; he reminded her of so much of what was
+past and gone. A moment after she dashed these personal tears aside and
+walked open-hearted to meet William. What had the doctor said? She must
+know the truth. If she was to lose him she would lose everything. No, not
+everything; her boy would still remain to her, and she felt that, after
+all, her boy was what was most real to her in life. These thoughts had
+passed through her mind before William had had time to answer her
+question.
+
+"He said the left lung was gone, that I'd never be able to stand another
+winter in England. He said I must go to Egypt."
+
+"Egypt," she repeated. "Is that very far from here?"
+
+"What matter how far it is! If I can't live in England I must go where I
+can live."
+
+"Don't be cross, dear. I know it's your health that makes you that
+irritable, but it's hard to bear at times."
+
+"You won't care to go to Egypt with me."
+
+"How can you think that, Bill? Have I ever refused you anything?"
+
+"Quite right, old girl, I'm sorry. I know you'd do anything for me. I've
+always said so, haven't I? It's this cough that makes me sharp tempered
+and fretful. I shall be different when I get to Egypt."
+
+"When do we start?"
+
+"If we get away by the end of October it will be all right. It will cost a
+lot of money; the journey is expensive, and we shall have to stop there
+six months. I couldn't think of coming home before the end of April."
+
+Esther did not answer. They walked some yards in silence. Then he said--
+
+"I've been very unlucky lately; there isn't much over a hundred pounds in
+the bank."
+
+"How much shall we want?"
+
+"Three or four hundred pounds at least. We won't take the boy with us, we
+couldn't afford that; but I should like to pay a couple of quarters in
+advance."
+
+"That won't be much."
+
+"Not if I have any luck. The luck must turn, and I have some splendid
+information about the Great Ebor and the Yorkshire Stakes. Stack knows of
+a horse or two that's being kept for Sandown. Unfortunately there is not
+much doing in August. I must try to make up the money: it's a matter of
+life and death."
+
+It was for his very life that her husband was now gambling on the
+race-course, and a sensation of very great wickedness came up in her mind,
+but she stifled it instantly. William had noticed the look of fear that
+appeared in her eyes, and he said--
+
+"It's my last chance. I can't get the money any other way; and I don't
+want to die yet awhile. I haven't been as good to you as I'd like, and I
+want to do something for the boy, you know."
+
+He had been told not to remain out after sundown, but he was resolved to
+leave no stone unturned in his search for information, and often he
+returned home as late as nine and ten o'clock at night coughing--Esther
+could hear him all up the street. He came in ready to drop with fatigue,
+his pockets filled with sporting papers, and these he studied, spreading
+them on the table under the lamp, while Esther sat striving to do some
+needlework. It often dropped out of her hands, and her eyes filled with
+tears. But she took care that he should not see these tears; she did not
+wish to distress him unnecessarily. Poor chap! he had enough to put up
+with as it was. Sometimes he read out the horses' names and asked her
+which she thought would win, which seemed to her a likely name. But she
+begged of him not to ask her; they had many quarrels on this subject, but
+in the end he understood that it was not fair to ask her. Sometimes Stack
+and Journeyman came in, and they argued about weights and distances, until
+midnight; old John came to see them, and every day he had heard some new
+tip. It often rose to Esther's lips to tell William to back his fancy and
+have done with it; she could see that these discussions only fatigued him,
+that he was no nearer to the truth now than he was a fortnight ago.
+Meanwhile the horse he had thought of backing had gone up in the betting.
+But he said that he must be very careful. They had only a hundred pounds
+left; he must be careful not to risk this money foolishly--it was his very
+life-blood. If he were to lose all this money, he wouldn't only sign his
+own death warrant, but also hers. He might linger on a long while--there
+was no knowing, but he would never be able to do any work, that was
+certain (unless he went out to Egypt); the doctor had said so, and then it
+would be she who would have to support him. And if God were merciful
+enough to take him off at once he would leave her in a worse plight than
+he had found her in, and the boy growing up! Oh, it was terrible! He
+buried his face in his hands, and seemed quite overcome. Then the cough
+would take him, and for a few minutes he could only think of himself.
+Esther gave him a little milk to drink, and he said--
+
+"There's a hundred pounds left, Esther. It isn't much, but it's something.
+I don't believe that there's much use in my going to Egypt. I shall never
+get well. It is better that I should pitch myself into the river. That
+would be the least selfish way out of it."
+
+"William, I will not have you talk in that way," Esther said, laying down
+her work and going over to him. "If you was to do such a thing I should
+never forgive you. I could never think the same of you."
+
+"All right, old girl, don't be frightened. I've been thinking too much
+about them horses, and am a bit depressed. I daresay it will come out all
+right. I think that Mahomet is sure to win the Great Ebor, don't you?"
+
+"I don't think there's no better judge than yourself. They all say if he
+don't fall lame that he's bound to win."
+
+"Then Mahomet shall carry my money. I'll back him to-morrow."
+
+Now that he had made up his mind what horse to back his spirits revived.
+He was able to dismiss the subject from his mind, and they talked of other
+things, of their son, and they laid projects for his welfare. But on the
+day of the race, from early morning, William could barely contain himself.
+Usually he took his winnings and losings very quietly. When he had been
+especially unlucky he swore a bit, but Esther had never seen any great
+excitement before a race was run. The issues of this race were
+extraordinary, and it was heart-breaking to see him suffer; he could not
+remain still a moment. A prey to all the terrors of hope, exhausted with
+anticipation, he rested himself against the sideboard and wiped drops of
+sweat from his forehead. A broiling sunlight infested their window-panes,
+the room grew oven-like, and he was obliged at last to go into the back
+parlour and lie down. He lay there in his shirt sleeves quite exhausted,
+hardly able to breathe; the arm once so strong and healthy was shrunken to
+a little nothing. He seemed quite bloodless, and looking at him Esther
+could hardly hope that any climate would restore him to health. He just
+asked her what the time was, and said, "The race is being run now." A few
+minutes after he said, "I think Mahomet has won. I fancied I saw him get
+first past the post." He spoke as if he were sure, and said nothing about
+the evening paper. If he were disappointed, Esther felt that it would kill
+him, and she knelt down by the bedside and prayed that God would allow the
+horse to win. It meant her husband's life, that was all she knew. Oh, that
+the horse might win! Presently he said, "There's no use praying, I feel
+sure it is all right. Go into the next room, stand on the balcony so that
+you may see the boy coming along."
+
+A pale yellow sky rose behind the brick neighbourhood, and with agonised
+soul the woman viewed its plausive serenity. There seemed to be hope in
+its quietness. At that moment the cry came up, "Win-ner, Win-ner." It came
+from the north, from the east, and now from the west. Three boys were
+shouting forth the news simultaneously. Ah, if it should prove bad news!
+But somehow she too felt that the news was good. She ran to meet the boy.
+She had a half-penny ready in her hand; he fumbled, striving to detach a
+single paper from the quire under his arm. Seeing her impatience, he said,
+"Mahomet's won." Then the pavement seemed to slide beneath her feet, and
+the setting sun she could hardly see, so full was her heart, so burdened
+with the happiness that she was bringing to the poor sick fellow who lay
+in his shirt sleeves on the bed in the back room. "It's all right," she
+said. "I thought so too; it seemed like it." His face flushed, life seemed
+to come back. He sat up and took the paper from her. "There," he said,
+"I've got my place-money, too. I hope Stack and Journeyman come in
+tonight. I'd like to have a chat about this. Come, give me a kiss, dear.
+I'm not going to die, after all. It isn't a pleasant thing to think that
+you must die, that there's no hope for you, that you must go under
+ground."
+
+The next thing to do was to pick the winner of the Yorkshire Handicap. In
+this he was not successful, but he backed several winners at Sandown Park,
+and at the close of the week had made nearly enough to take him to Egypt.
+
+The Doncaster week, however, proved disastrous. He lost most of his
+winnings, and had to look forward to retrieving his fortunes at Newmarket.
+"The worst of it is, if I don't make up the money by October, it will be
+no use. They say the November fogs will polish me off."
+
+Between Doncaster and Newmarket he lost a bet, and this bet carried him
+back into despondency. He felt it was no use struggling against fate.
+Better remain in London and be taken away at the end of November or
+December; he couldn't last much longer than that. This would allow him to
+leave Esther at least fifty pounds to go on with. The boy would soon be
+able to earn money. It would be better so. No use wasting all this money
+for the sake of his health, which wasn't worth two-pence-three-farthings.
+It was like throwing sovereigns after farthings. He didn't want to do any
+betting; he was as hollow as a shell inside, he could feel it. Egypt could
+do nothing for him, and as he had to go, better sooner than later. Esther
+argued with him. What should she have to live for if he was taken from
+her. The doctors had said that Egypt might set him right. She didn't know
+much about such things, but she had always heard that it was extraordinary
+how people got cured out there.
+
+"That's true," he said. "I've heard that people who couldn't live a week
+in England, who haven't the length of your finger of lung left, can go on
+all right out there. I might get something to do out there, and the boy
+might come out after us."
+
+"That's the way I like to hear you talk. Who knows, at Newmarket we might
+have luck! Just one big bet, a winner at fifty to one, that's all we
+want."
+
+"That's just what has been passing in my mind. I've got particular
+information about the Cesarewitch and Cambridgeshire. I could get the
+price you speak of--fifty to one against the two, Matchbox and
+Chasuble--the double event, you know. I'm inclined to go it. It's my last
+chance."
+
+
+
+
+XLIII
+
+
+When Matchbox galloped home the winner of the Cesarewitch by five lengths,
+William was lying in his bed, seemingly at death's door. He had remained
+out late one evening, had caught cold, and his mouth was constantly filled
+with blood. He was much worse, and could hardly take notice of the good
+news. When he revived a little he said, "It has come too late." But when
+Chasuble was backed to win thousands at ten to one, and Journeyman and
+Stack assured him that the stable was quite confident of being able to
+pull it off, his spirits revived. He spoke of hedging. "If," he said to
+Esther, "I was to get out at eight or nine to one I should be able to
+leave you something, you know, in case of accidents." But he would not
+entrust laying off his bet to either Stack of Journeyman; he spoke of a
+cab and seeing to it himself. If he did this the doctor assured him that
+it would not much matter whether Chasuble won or lost. "The best thing he
+could do," the doctor said, "would be to become an in-door patient at
+once. In the hospital he would be in an equable temperature, and he would
+receive an attention which he could not get at home."
+
+William did not like going into the hospital; it would be a bad omen. If
+he did, he felt sure that Chasuble would not win.
+
+"What has going or not going to the hospital to do with Chasuble's chance
+of winning the Cambridgeshire?" said the doctor. "This window is loose in
+its sash, a draught comes under the door, and if you close out the
+draughts the atmosphere of the room becomes stuffy. You're thinking of
+going abroad; a fortnight's nice rest is just what you want to set you up
+for your journey."
+
+So he allowed himself to be persuaded; he was taken to the hospital, and
+Esther remained at home waiting for the fateful afternoon. Now that the
+dying man was taken from her she had no work to distract her thought. The
+unanswerable question--would Chasuble win?--was always before her. She saw
+the slender greyhound creatures as she had seen them at Epsom, through a
+sea of heads and hats, and she asked herself if Chasuble was the brown
+horse that had galloped in first, or the chestnut that had trotted in
+last. She often thought she was going mad--her head seemed like it--a
+sensation of splitting like a piece of calico.... She went to see her boy.
+Jack was a great tall fellow of fifteen, and had happily lost none of his
+affection for his mother, and great sweetness rose up within her. She
+looked at his long, straight, yellow-stockinged legs; she settled the
+collar of his cloak, and slipped her fingers into his leathern belt as
+they walked side by side. He was bare-headed, according to the fashion of
+his school, and she kissed the wild, dark curls with which his head was
+run over; they were much brighter in colour when he was a little
+boy--those days when she slaved seventeen hours a day for his dear life!
+But he paid her back tenfold for the hardship she had undergone.
+
+She listened to the excellent report his masters gave of his progress, and
+walked through the quadrangles and the corridors with him, thinking of the
+sound of his voice as he told her the story of his classes and his
+studies. She must live for him; though for herself she had had enough of
+life. But, thank God, she had her darling boy, and whatever unhappiness
+there might be in store for her she would bear it for his sake. He knew
+that his father was ill, but she refrained and told him no word of the
+tragedy that was hanging over them. The noble instincts which were so
+intrinsically Esther Waters' told her that it were a pity to soil at the
+outset a young life with a sordid story, and though it would have been an
+inexpressible relief to her to have shared her trouble with her boy, she
+forced back her tears and courageously bore her cross alone, without once
+allowing its edge to touch him.
+
+And every day that visitors were allowed she went to the hospital with the
+newspaper containing the last betting. "Chasuble, ten to one taken,"
+William read out. The mare had advanced three points, and William looked
+at Esther inquiringly, and with hope in his eyes.
+
+"I think she'll win," he said, raising himself in his cane chair.
+
+"I hope so, dear," she murmured, and she settled his cushions.
+
+Two days after the mare was back again at thirteen to one taken and
+offered; she went back even as far as eighteen to one, and then returned
+for a while to twelve to one. This fluctuation meant that something was
+wrong, and William began to lose hope. But on the following day the mare
+was backed to win a good deal of money at Tattersall's, and once more she
+stood at ten to one. Seeing her back at the old price made William look so
+hopeful that a patient stopped as he passed down the corridor, and
+catching sight of the _Sportsman_ on William's lap, he asked him if he was
+interested in racing. William told him that he was, and that if Chasuble
+won he would be able to go to Egypt.
+
+"Them that has money can buy health as well as everything else. We'd all
+get well if we could get out there."
+
+William told him how much he stood to win.
+
+"That'll keep you going long enough to set you straight. You say the
+mare's backed at ten to one--two hundred to twenty. I wonder if I could
+get the money. I might sell up the 'ouse."
+
+But before he had time to realise the necessary money the mare was driven
+back to eighteen to one, and he said--
+
+"She won't win. I might as well leave the wife in the 'ouse. There's no
+luck for them that comes 'ere."
+
+On the day of the race Esther walked through the streets like one daft,
+stupidly interested in the passers-by and the disputes that arose between
+the drivers of cabs and omnibuses. Now and then her thoughts collected,
+and it seemed to her impossible that the mare should win. If she did they
+would have £2,500, and would go to Egypt. But she could not imagine such a
+thing; it seemed so much more natural that the horse should lose, and that
+her husband should die, and that she should have to face the world once
+more. She offered up prayers that Chasuble might win, although it did not
+seem right to address God on the subject, but her heart often felt like
+breaking, and she had to do something. And she had no doubt that God would
+forgive her. But now that the day had come she did not feel as if he had
+granted her request. At the same time it did not seem possible that her
+husband was going to die. It was all so hard to understand.
+
+She stopped at the "Bell and Horns" to see what the time was, and was
+surprised to find it was half-an-hour later than she had expected. The
+race was being run, Chasuble's hoofs were deciding whether her husband was
+to live or die. It was on the wire by this time. The wires were distinct
+upon a blue and dove-coloured sky. Did that one go to Newmarket, or the
+other? Which?
+
+The red building came in sight, and a patient walked slowly up the walk,
+his back turned to her; another had sat down to rest. Sixteen years ago
+patients were walking there then, and the leaves were scattering then just
+as now.... Without transition of thought she wondered when the first boy
+would appear with the news. William was not in the grounds; he was
+upstairs behind those windows. Poor fellow, she could fancy him sitting
+there. Perhaps he was watching for her out of one of those windows. But
+there was no use her going up until she had the news; she must wait for
+the paper. She walked up and down listening for the cry. Every now and
+then expectation led her to mistake some ordinary cry for the terrible
+"Win-ner, all the win-ner," with which the whole town would echo in a few
+minutes. She hastened forward. No, it was not it. At last she heard the
+word shrieked behind her. She hastened after the boy, but failed to
+overtake him. Returning, she met another, gave him a half-penny and took a
+paper. Then she remembered she must ask the boy to tell her who won. But
+heedless of her question he had run across the road to sell papers to some
+men who had come out of a public-house. She must not give William the
+paper and wait for him to read the news to her. If the news were bad the
+shock might kill him. She must learn first what the news was, so that her
+face and manner might prepare him for the worst if need be. So she offered
+the paper to the porter and asked him to tell her. "Bramble, King of
+Trumps, Young Hopeful," he read out.
+
+"Are you sure that Chasuble hasn't won?"
+
+"Of course I'm sure, there it is."
+
+"I can't read," she said as she turned away.
+
+The news had stunned her; the world seemed to lose reality; she was
+uncertain what to do, and several times repeated to herself, "There's
+nothing for it but to go up and tell him. I don't see what else I can do."
+The staircase was very steep; she climbed it slowly, and stopped at the
+first landing and looked out of the window. A poor hollow-chested
+creature, the wreck of a human being, struggled up behind her. He had to
+rest several times, and in the hollow building his cough sounded loud and
+hollow. "It isn't generally so loud as that," she thought, and wondered
+how she could tell William the news. "He wanted to see Jack grow up to be
+a man. He thought that we might all go to Egypt, and that he'd get quite
+well there, for there's plenty of sunshine there, but now he'll have to
+make up his mind to die in the November fogs." Her thoughts came strangely
+clear, and she was astonished at her indifference, until a sudden
+revulsion of feeling took her as she was going up the last flight. She
+couldn't tell him the news; it was too cruel. She let the patient pass
+her, and when alone on the landing she looked down into the depth. She
+thought she'd like to fall over; anything rather than to do what she knew
+she must do. But her cowardice only endured for a moment, and with a firm
+step she walked into the corridor. It seemed to cross the entire building,
+and was floored and wainscotted with the same brown varnished wood as the
+staircase. There were benches along the walls; and emaciated and worn-out
+men lay on the long cane chairs in the windowed recesses by which the
+passage was lighted. The wards, containing sometimes three, sometimes six
+or seven beds, opened on to this passage. The doors of the wards were all
+open, and as she passed along she started at the sight of a boy sitting up
+in bed. His head had been shaved and only a slight bristle covered the
+crown. The head and face were a large white mass with two eyes. At the end
+of the passage there was a window; and William sat there reading a book.
+He saw her before she saw him, and when she caught sight of him she
+stopped, holding the paper loose before her between finger and thumb, and
+as she approached she saw that her manner had already broken the news to
+him.
+
+"I see that she didn't win," he said.
+
+"No, dear, she didn't win. We wasn't lucky this time: next time--"
+
+"There is no next time, at least for me. I shall be far away from here
+when flat racing begins again. The November fogs will do for me, I feel
+that they will. I hope there'll be no lingering, that's all. Better to
+know the worst and make up your mind. So I have to go, have I? So there's
+no hope, and I shall be under ground before the next meeting. I shall
+never lay or take the odds again. It do seem strange. If only that mare
+had won. I knew damned well she wouldn't if I came here."
+
+Then, catching sight of the pained look on his wife's face, he said, "I
+don't suppose it made no difference; it was to be, and what has to be has
+to be. I've got to go under ground. I felt it was to be all along. Egypt
+would have done me no good; I never believed in it--only a lot of false
+hope. You don't think what I say is true. Look 'ere, do you know what book
+this is? This is the Bible; that'll prove to you that I knew the game was
+up. I knew, I can't tell you how, but I knew the mare wouldn't win. One
+always seems to know. Even when I backed her I didn't feel about her like
+I did about the other one, and ever since I've been feeling more and more
+sure that it wasn't to be. Somehow it didn't seem likely, and to-day
+something told me that the game was up, so I asked for this book....
+There's wonderful beautiful things in it."
+
+"There is, indeed, Bill; and I hope you won't get tired of it, but will go
+on reading it."
+
+"It's extraordinary how consoling it is. Listen to this. Isn't it
+beautiful; ain't them words heavenly?"
+
+"They is, indeed. I knew you'd come to God at last."
+
+"I'm afraid I've not led a good life. I wouldn't listen to you when you
+used to tell me of the lot of harm the betting used to bring on the poor
+people what used to come to our place. There's Sarah, I suppose she's out
+of prison by this. You've seen nothing of her, I suppose?"
+
+"No, nothing."
+
+"There was Ketley."
+
+"No, Bill, don't let's think about it. If you're truly sorry, God will
+forgive."
+
+"Do you think He will--and the others that we know nothing about? I
+wouldn't listen to you; I was headstrong, but I understand it all now. My
+eyes 'ave been opened. Them pious folk that got up the prosecution knew
+what they was about. I forgive them one and all."
+
+William coughed a little. The conversation paused, and the cough was
+repeated down the corridor. Now it came from the men lying on the long
+cane chairs; now from the poor emaciated creature, hollow cheeks, brown
+eyes and beard, who had just come out of his ward and had sat down on a
+bench by the wall. Now it came from an old man six feet high, with
+snow-white hair. He sat near them, and worked assiduously at a piece of
+tapestry. "It'll be better when it's cut," he said to one of the nurses,
+who had stopped to compliment him on his work; "it'll be better when it's
+cut." Then the cough came from one of the wards, and Esther thought of the
+fearsome boy sitting bolt up, his huge tallow-like face staring through
+the silence of the room. A moment after the cough came from her husband's
+lips, and they looked at each other. Both wanted to speak, and neither
+knew what to say. At last William spoke.
+
+"I was saying that I never had that feeling about Chasuble as one 'as
+about a winner. Did she run second? Just like my luck if she did. Let me
+see the paper."
+
+Esther handed it to him.
+
+"Bramble, a fifty to one chance, not a man in a hundred backed her; King
+of Trumps, there was some place money lost on him; Young Hopeful, a rank
+outsider. What a day for the bookies!"
+
+"You mustn't think of them things no more," said Esther. "You've got the
+Book; it'll do you more good."
+
+"If I'd only have thought of Bramble... I could have had a hundred to one
+against Matchbox and Bramble coupled."
+
+"What's the use of thinking of things that's over? We should think of the
+future."
+
+"If I'd only been able to hedge that bet I should have been able to leave
+you something to go on with, but now, when everything is paid for, you'll
+have hardly a five-pound note. You've been a good wife to me, and I've
+been a bad husband to you."
+
+"Bill, you mustn't speak like that. You must try to make your peace with
+God. Think of Him. He'll think of us that you leave behind. I've always
+had faith in Him. He'll not desert me."
+
+Her eyes were quite dry; the instinct of life seemed to have left her.
+They spoke some little while longer, until it was time for visitors to
+leave the hospital. It was not until she got into the Fulham Road that
+tears began to run down her cheeks; they poured faster and faster, like
+rain after long dry weather. The whole world disappeared in a mist of
+tears. And so overcome was she by her grief that she had to lean against
+the railings, and then the passers-by turned and looked at her curiously.
+
+
+
+
+XLIV
+
+
+With fair weather he might hold on till Christmas, but if much fog was
+about he would go off with the last leaves. One day Esther received a
+letter asking her to defer her visit from Friday to Sunday. He hoped to be
+better on Sunday, and then they would arrange when she should come to take
+him away. He begged of her to have Jack home to meet him. He wanted to see
+his boy before he died.
+
+Mrs. Collins, a woman who lived in the next room, read the letter to
+Esther.
+
+"If you can, do as he wishes. Once they gets them fancies into their heads
+there's no getting them out."
+
+"If he leaves the hospital on a day like this it'll be the death of him."
+
+Both women went to the window. The fog was so thick that only an outline
+here and there was visible of the houses opposite. The lamps burnt low,
+mournful, as in a city of the dead, and the sounds that rose out of the
+street added to the terror of the strange darkness.
+
+"What do he say about Jack? That I'm to send for him. It's natural he
+should like to see the boy before he goes, but it would be cheerfuller to
+take him to the hospital."
+
+"You see, he wants to die at home; he wants you to be with him at the
+last."
+
+"Yes, I want to see the last of him. But the boy, where's he to sleep?"
+
+"We can lay a mattress down in my room--an old woman like me, it don't
+matter."
+
+Sunday morning was harsh and cold, and when she came out of South
+Kensington Station a fog was rising in the squares, and a great whiff of
+yellow cloud drifted down upon the house-tops. In the Fulham road the tops
+of the houses disappeared, and the light of the third gas-lamp was not
+visible.
+
+"This is the sort of weather that takes them off. I can hardly breathe it
+myself."
+
+Everything was shadow-like; those walking in front of her passed out of
+sight like shades, and once she thought she must have missed her way,
+though that was impossible, for her way was quite straight.... Suddenly
+the silhouette of the winged building rose up enormous on the sulphur sky.
+The low-lying gardens were full of poisonous vapour, and the thin trees
+seemed like the ghosts of consumptive men. The porter coughed like a dead
+man as she passed, and he said, "Bad weather for the poor sick ones
+upstairs."
+
+She was prepared for a change for the worse, but she did not expect to see
+a living man looking so like a dead one.
+
+He could no longer lie back in bed and breathe, so he was propped up with
+pillows, and he looked even as shadow-like as those she had half seen in
+the fog-cloud. There was fog even in the ward, and the lights burned red
+in the silence. There were five beds--low iron bedsteads--and each was
+covered with a dark red rug. In the furthest corner lay the wreck of a
+great working man. He wore his hob-nails and his corduroys, and his once
+brawny arm lay along his thigh, shrivelled and powerless as a child's. In
+the middle of the room a little clerk, wasted and weary, without any
+strength at all, lay striving for breath. The navvy was alone; the little
+clerk had his family round him, his wife and his two children, a baby in
+arms and a little boy three years old. The doctor had just come in, and
+the woman was prattling gaily about her confinement. She said--
+
+"I was up the following week. Wonderful what we women can go through. No
+one would think it.... brought the childer to see their father; they is a
+little idol to him, poor fellow."
+
+"How are you to-day, dearie?" Esther said, as she took a seat by her
+husband's bed.
+
+"Better than I was on Friday, but this weather'll do for me if it
+continues much longer.... You see them two beds? They died yesterday, and
+I've 'eard that three or four that left the hospital are gone, too."
+
+The doctor came to William's bed. "Well, are you still determined to go
+home?" he said.
+
+"Yes; I'd like to die at home. You can't do nothing for me.... I'd like to
+die at home; I want to see my boy."
+
+"You can see Jack here," said Esther.
+
+"I'd sooner see him at 'ome.... I suppose you don't want the trouble of a
+death in the 'ouse."
+
+"Oh, William, how can you speak so!" The patient coughed painfully, and
+leaned against the pillows, unable to speak.
+
+Esther remained with William till the time permitted to visitors had
+expired. He could not speak to her but she knew he liked her to be with
+him.
+
+When she came on Thursday to take him away, he was a little better. The
+clerk's wife was chattering; the great navvy lay in the corner, still as a
+block of stone. Esther often looked at him and wondered if he had no
+friend who could spare an hour to come and see him.
+
+"I was beginning to think that you wasn't coming," said William.
+
+"He's that restless," said the clerk's wife; "asking the time every three
+or four minutes."
+
+"How could you think that?" said Esther.
+
+"I dun know... you're a bit late, aren't you?"
+
+"It often do make them that restless," said the clerk's wife. "But my poor
+old man is quiet enough--aren't you, dear?" The dying clerk could not
+answer, and the woman turned again to Esther.
+
+"And how do you find him to-day?"
+
+"Much the same.... I think he's a bit better; stronger, don't yer know.
+But this weather is that trying. I don't know how it was up your way, but
+down my way I never seed such a fog. I thought I'd have to turn back." At
+that moment the baby began to cry, and the woman walked up and down the
+ward, rocking it violently, talking loud, and making a great deal of
+noise. But she could not quiet him.... "Hungry again," she said. "I never
+seed such a child for the breast," and she sat down and unbuttoned her
+dress. When the young doctor entered she hurriedly covered herself; he
+begged her to continue, and spoke about her little boy. She showed him a
+scar on his throat. He had been suffering, but it was all right now. The
+doctor glanced at the breathless father.
+
+"A little better to-day, thank you, doctor."
+
+"That's all right;" and the doctor went over to William.
+
+"Are you still determined to leave the hospital?" he said.
+
+"Yes, I want to go home. I want to--"
+
+"You'll find this weather very trying; you'd better--"
+
+"No, thank you, sir. I should like to go home. You've been very kind;
+you've done everything that could be done for me. But it's God's will....
+My wife is very grateful to you, too."
+
+"Yes, indeed, I am, sir. However am I to thank you for your kindness to my
+husband?'
+
+"I'm sorry I couldn't do more. But you'll want the sister to help you to
+dress him. I'll send her to you."
+
+When they got him out of bed, Esther was shocked at the spectacle of his
+poor body. There was nothing left of him. His poor chest, his wasted ribs,
+his legs gone to nothing, and the strange weakness, worst of all, which
+made it so hard for them to dress him. At last it was nearly done: Esther
+laced one boot, the nurse the other, and, leaning on Esther's arm, he
+looked round the room for the last time. The navvy turned round on his bed
+and said--
+
+"Good-bye, mate."
+
+"Good-bye.... Good-bye, all."
+
+The clerk's little son clung to his mother's skirt, frightened at the
+weakness of so big a man.
+
+"Go and say good-bye to the gentleman."
+
+The little boy came forward timidly, offering his hand. William looked at
+the poor little white face; he nodded to the father and went out.
+
+As he went downstairs he said he would like to go home in a hansom. The
+doctor and nurse expostulated, but he persisted until Esther begged of him
+to forego the wish for her sake.
+
+"They do rattle so, these four-wheelers, especially when the windows are
+up. One can't speak."
+
+The cab jogged up Piccadilly, and as it climbed out of the hollow the
+dying man's eyes were fixed on the circle of lights that shone across the
+Green Park. They looked like a distant village, and Esther wondered if
+William was thinking of Shoreham--she had seen Shoreham look like that
+sometimes--or if he was thinking that he was looking on London for the
+last time. Was he saying to himself, "I shall never, never see Piccadilly
+again"? They passed St. James's Street. The Circus, with its mob of
+prostitutes, came into view; the "Criterion" bar, with its loafers
+standing outside. William leaned a little forward, and Esther was sure he
+was thinking that he would never go into that bar again. The cab turned to
+the left, and Esther said that it would cross Soho, perhaps pass down Old
+Compton Street, opposite their old house. It happened that it did, and
+Esther and William wondered who were the new people who were selling beer
+and whisky in the bar? All the while boys were crying, "Win-ner, all the
+win-ner!"
+
+"The ---- was run to-day. Flat racing all over, all over for this year."
+
+Esther did not answer. The cab passed over a piece of asphalte, and he
+said--
+
+"Is Jack waiting for us?"
+
+"Yes, he came home yesterday."
+
+The fog was thick in Bloomsbury, and when he got out of the cab he was
+taken with a fit of coughing, and had to cling to the railings. She had to
+pay the cab, and it took some time to find the money. Would no one open
+the door? She was surprised to see him make his way up the steps to the
+bell, and having got her change, she followed him into the house.
+
+"I can manage. Go on first; I'll follow."
+
+And stopping every three or four steps for rest, he slowly dragged himself
+up to the first landing. A door opened and Jack stood on the threshold of
+the lighted room.
+
+"Is that you, mother?"
+
+"Yes, dear; your father is coming up."
+
+The boy came forward to help, but his mother whispered, "He'd rather come
+up by himself."
+
+William had just strength to walk into the room; they gave him a chair,
+and he fell back exhausted. He looked around, and seemed pleased to see
+his home again. Esther gave him some milk, into which she had put a little
+brandy, and he gradually revived.
+
+"Come this way, Jack; I want to look at you; come into the light where I
+can see you."
+
+"Yes, father."
+
+"I haven't long to see you, Jack. I wanted to be with you and your mother
+in our own home. I can talk a little now: I may not be able to to-morrow."
+
+"Yes, father."
+
+"I want you to promise me, Jack, that you'll never have nothing to do with
+racing and betting. It hasn't brought me or your mother any luck."
+
+"Very well, father."
+
+"You promise me, Jack. Give me your hand. You promise me that, Jack."
+
+"Yes, father, I promise."
+
+"I see it all clearly enough now. Your mother, Jack, is the best woman in
+the world. She loved you better than I did. She worked for you--that is a
+sad story. I hope you'll never hear it."
+
+Husband and wife looked at each other, and in that look the wife promised
+the husband that the son should never know the story of her desertion.
+
+"She was always against the betting, Jack; she always knew it would bring
+us ill-luck. I was once well off, but I lost everything. No good comes of
+money that one doesn't work for."
+
+"I'm sure you worked enough for what you won," said Esther; "travelling
+day and night from race-course to race-course. Standing on them
+race-courses in all weathers; it was the colds you caught standing on them
+race-courses that began the mischief."
+
+"I worked hard enough, that's true; but it was not the right kind of
+work.... I can't argue, Esther.... But I know the truth now, what you
+always said was the truth. No good comes of money that hasn't been
+properly earned."
+
+He sipped the brandy-and-milk and looked at Jack, who was crying bitterly.
+
+"You mustn't cry like that, Jack; I want you to listen to me. I've still
+something on my mind. Your mother, Jack, is the best woman that ever
+lived. You're too young to understand how good. I didn't know how good for
+a long time, but I found it all out in time, as you will later, Jack, when
+you are a man. I'd hoped to see you grow up to be a man, Jack, and your
+mother and I thought that you'd have a nice bit of money. But the money I
+hoped to leave you is all gone. What I feel most is that I'm leaving you
+and your mother as badly off as she was when I married her." He heaved a
+deep sigh, and Esther said--
+
+"What is the good of talking of these things, weakening yourself for
+nothing?"
+
+"I must speak, Esther. I should die happy if I knew how you and the boy
+was going to live. You'll have to go out and work for him as you did
+before. It will be like beginning it all again."
+
+The tears rolled down his cheeks; he buried his face in his hands and
+sobbed, until the sobbing brought on a fit of coughing. Suddenly his mouth
+filled with blood. Jack went for the doctor, and all remedies were tried
+without avail. "There is one more remedy," the doctor said, "and if that
+fails you must prepare for the worst." But this last remedy proved
+successful, and the hæmorrhage was stopped, and William was undressed and
+put to bed. The doctor said, "He mustn't get up to-morrow."
+
+"You lie in bed to-morrow, and try to get up your strength. You've
+overdone yourself to-day."
+
+She had drawn his bed into the warmest corner, close by the fire, and had
+made up for herself a sort of bed by the window, where she might doze a
+bit, for she did not expect to get much sleep. She would have to be up and
+down many times to settle his pillows and give him milk or a little weak
+brandy-and-water.
+
+Night wore away, the morning grew into day, and about twelve o'clock he
+insisted on getting up. She tried to persuade him, but he said he could
+not stop in bed; and there was nothing for it but to ask Mrs. Collins to
+help her dress him. They placed him comfortably in a chair. The cough had
+entirely ceased and he seemed better. And on Saturday night he slept
+better than he had done for a long while and woke up on Sunday morning
+refreshed and apparently much stronger. He had a nice bit of boiled rabbit
+for his dinner. He didn't speak much; Esther fancied that he was still
+thinking of them. When the afternoon waned, about four o'clock, he called
+Jack; he told him to sit in the light where he could see him, and he
+looked at his son with such wistful eyes. These farewells were very sad,
+and Esther had to turn aside to hide her tears.
+
+"I should have liked to have seen you a man, Jack."
+
+"Don't speak like that--I can't bear it," said the poor boy, bursting into
+tears. "Perhaps you won't die yet."
+
+"Yes, Jack; I'm wore out. I can feel," he said, pointing to his chest,
+"that there is nothing here to live upon.... It is the punishment come
+upon me."
+
+"Punishment for what, father?"
+
+"I wasn't always good to your mother, Jack."
+
+"If to please me, William, you'll say no more."
+
+"The boy ought to know; it will be a lesson for him, and it weighs upon my
+heart."
+
+"I don't want my boy to hear anything bad about his father, and I forbid
+him to listen."
+
+The conversation paused, and soon after William said that his strength was
+going from him, and that he would like to go back to bed. Esther helped
+him off with his clothes, and together she and Jack lifted him into bed.
+He sat up looking at them with wistful, dying eyes.
+
+"It is hard to part from you," he said. "If Chasuble had won we would have
+all gone to Egypt. I could have lived out there."
+
+"You must speak of them things no more. We all must obey God's will."
+Esther dropped on her knees; she drew Jack down beside her, and William
+asked Jack to read something from the Bible. Jack read where he first
+opened the book, and when he had finished William said that he liked to
+listen. Jack's voice sounded to him like heaven.
+
+About eight o'clock William bade his son good-night.
+
+"Good-night, my boy; perhaps we shan't see each other again. This may be
+my last night."
+
+"I won't leave you, father."
+
+"No, my boy, go to your bed. I feel I'd like to be alone with mother." The
+voice sank almost to a whisper.
+
+"You'll remember what you promised me about racing.... Be good to your
+mother--she's the best mother a son ever had."
+
+"I'll work for mother, father, I'll work for her."
+
+"You're too young, my son, but when you're older I hope you'll work for
+her. She worked for you.... Good-bye, my boy."
+
+The dying man sweated profusely, and Esther wiped his face from time to
+time. Mrs. Collins came in. She had a large tin candlestick in her hand in
+which there was a fragment of candle end. He motioned to her to put it
+aside. She put it on the table out of the way of his eyes.
+
+"You'll help Esther to lay me out.... I don't want any one else. I don't
+like the other woman."
+
+"Esther and me will lay you out, make your mind easy; none but we two
+shall touch you."
+
+Once more Esther wiped his forehead, and he signed to her how he wished
+the bed-clothes to be arranged, for he could no longer speak. Mrs. Collins
+whispered to Esther that she did not think that the end could be far off,
+and compelled by a morbid sort of curiosity she took a chair and sat down.
+Esther wiped away the little drops of sweat as they came upon his
+forehead; his chest and throat had to be wiped also, for they too were
+full of sweat. His eyes were fixed on the darkness and he moved his hand
+restlessly, and Esther always understood what he wanted. She gave him a
+little brandy-and-water, and when he could not take it from the glass she
+gave it to him with a spoon.
+
+The silence grew more solemn, and the clock on the mantelpiece striking
+ten sharp strokes did not interrupt it; and then, as Esther turned from
+the bedside for the brandy, Mrs. Collins's candle spluttered and went out;
+a little thread of smoke evaporated, leaving only a morsel of blackened
+wick; the flame had disappeared for ever, gone as if it had never been,
+and Esther saw darkness where there had been a light. Then she heard Mrs.
+Collins say--
+
+"I think it is all over, dear."
+
+The profile on the pillow seemed very little.
+
+"Hold up his head, so that if there is any breath it may come on the
+glass."
+
+"He's dead, right enough. You see, dear, there's not a trace of breath on
+the glass."
+
+"I'd like to say a prayer. Will you say a prayer with me?"
+
+"Yes, I feel as if I should like to myself; it eases the heart wonderful."
+
+
+
+
+XLV
+
+
+She stood on the platform watching the receding train. A few bushes hid
+the curve of the line; the white vapour rose above them, evaporating in
+the grey evening. A moment more and the last carriage would pass out of
+sight. The white gates swung slowly forward and closed over the line.
+
+An oblong box painted reddish brown lay on the seat beside her. A woman of
+seven or eight and thirty, stout and strongly built, short arms and
+hard-worked hands, dressed in dingy black skirt and a threadbare jacket
+too thin for the dampness of a November day. Her face was a blunt outline,
+and the grey eyes reflected all the natural prose of the Saxon.
+
+The porter told her that he would try to send her box up to Woodview
+to-morrow.... That was the way to Woodview, right up the lane. She could
+not miss it. She would find the lodge gate behind that clump of trees. And
+thinking how she could get her box to Woodview that evening, she looked at
+the barren strip of country lying between the downs and the shingle beach.
+The little town clamped about its deserted harbour seemed more than ever
+like falling to pieces like a derelict vessel, and when Esther passed over
+the level crossing she noticed that the line of little villas had not
+increased; they were as she had left them eighteen years ago, laurels,
+iron railing, antimacassars. It was about eighteen years ago, on a
+beautiful June day, that she had passed up this lane for the first time.
+At the very spot she was now passing she had stopped to wonder if she
+would be able to keep the place of kitchen-maid. She remembered regretting
+that she had not a new dress; she had hoped to be able to brighten up the
+best of her cotton prints with a bit of red ribbon. The sun was shining,
+and she had met William leaning over the paling in the avenue smoking his
+pipe. Eighteen years had gone by, eighteen years of labour, suffering,
+disappointment. A great deal had happened, so much that she could not
+remember it all. The situations she had been in; her life with that dear
+good soul, Miss Rice, then Fred Parsons, then William again; her marriage,
+the life in the public-house, money lost and money won, heart-breakings,
+death, everything that could happen had happened to her. Now it all seemed
+like a dream. But her boy remained to her. She had brought up her boy,
+thank God, she had been able to do that. But how had she done it? How
+often had she found herself within sight of the workhouse? The last time
+was no later than last week. Last week it had seemed to her that she would
+have to accept the workhouse. But she had escaped, and now here she was
+back at the very point from which she started, going back to Woodview,
+going back to Mrs. Barfield's service.
+
+William's illness and his funeral had taken Esther's last few pounds away
+from her, and when she and Jack came back from the cemetery she found that
+she had broken into her last sovereign. She clasped him to her bosom--he
+was a tall boy of fifteen--and burst into tears. But she did not tell him
+what she was crying for. She did not say, "God only knows how we shall
+find bread to eat next week;" she merely said, wiping away her tears, "We
+can't afford to live here any longer. It's too expensive for us now that
+father's gone." And they went to live in a slum for three-and-sixpence a
+week. If she had been alone in the world she would have gone into a
+situation, but she could not leave the boy, and so she had to look out for
+charing. It was hard to have to come down to this, particularly when she
+remembered that she had had a house and a servant of her own; but there
+was nothing for it but to look out for some charing, and get along as best
+she could until Jack was able to look after himself. But the various
+scrubbings and general cleaning that had come her way had been so badly
+paid that she soon found that she could not make both ends meet. She would
+have to leave her boy and go out as a general servant. And as her
+necessities were pressing, she accepted a situation in a coffee-shop in
+the London Road. She would give all her wages to Jack, seven shillings a
+week, and he would have to live on that. So long as she had her health she
+did not mind.
+
+It was a squat brick building with four windows that looked down on the
+pavement with a short-sighted stare. On each window was written in letters
+of white enamel, "Well-aired beds." A board nailed to a post by the
+side-door announced that tea and coffee were always ready. On the other
+side of the sign was an upholsterer's, and the vulgar brightness of the
+Brussels carpets seemed in keeping with the slop-like appearance of the
+coffeehouse.
+
+Sometimes a workman came in the morning; a couple more might come in about
+dinner-time. Sometimes they took rashers and bits of steak out of their
+pockets.
+
+"Won't you cook this for me, missis?"
+
+But it was not until about nine in the evening that the real business of
+the house began, and it continued till one, when the last straggler
+knocked for admittance. The house lived on its beds. The best rooms were
+sometimes let for eight shillings a night, and there were four beds which
+were let at fourpence a night in the cellar under the area where Esther
+stood by the great copper washing sheets, blankets, and counterpanes, when
+she was not cleaning the rooms upstairs. There was a double-bedded room
+underneath the kitchen, and over the landings, wherever a space could be
+found, the landlord, who was clever at carpentering work, had fitted up
+some sort of closet place that could be let as a bedroom. The house was a
+honeycomb. The landlord slept under the roof, and a corner had been found
+for his housekeeper, a handsome young woman, at the end of the passage.
+Esther and the children--the landlord was a widower--slept in the
+coffee-room upon planks laid across the tops of the high backs of the
+benches where the customers mealed. Mattresses and bedding were laid on
+these planks and the sleepers lay, their faces hardly two feet from the
+ceiling. Esther slept with the baby, a little boy of five; the two big
+boys slept at the other end of the room by the front door. The eldest was
+about fifteen, but he was only half-witted; and he helped in the
+housework, and could turn down the beds and see quicker than any one if
+the occupant had stolen sheet or blanket. Esther always remembered how he
+would raise himself up in bed in the early morning, rub the glass, and
+light a candle so that he could be seen from below. He shook his head if
+every bed was occupied, or signed with his fingers the prices of the beds
+if they had any to let.
+
+The landlord was a tall, thin man, with long features and hair turning
+grey. He was very quiet, and Esther was surprised one night at the
+abruptness with which he stopped a couple who were going upstairs.
+
+"Is that your wife?" he said.
+
+"Yes, she's my wife all right."
+
+"She don't look very old."
+
+"She's older than she looks."
+
+Then he said, half to Esther, half to his housekeeper, that it was hard to
+know what to do. If you asked them for their marriage certificates they'd
+be sure to show you something. The housekeeper answered that they paid
+well, and that was the principal thing. But when an attempt was made to
+steal the bedclothes the landlord and his housekeeper were more severe. As
+Esther was about to let a most respectable woman out of the front door,
+the idiot boy called down the stairs, "Stop her! There's a sheet missing."
+
+"Oh, what in the world is all this? I haven't got your sheet. Pray let me
+pass; I'm in a hurry."
+
+"I can't let you pass until the sheet is found."
+
+"You'll find it upstairs under the bed. It's got mislaid. I'm in a hurry."
+
+"Call in the police," shouted the idiot boy.
+
+"You'd better come upstairs and help me to find the sheet," said Esther.
+
+The woman hesitated a moment, and then walked up in front of Esther. When
+they were in the bedroom she shook out her petticoats, and the sheet fell
+on the floor.
+
+"There, now," said Esther, "a nice botheration you'd 've got me into. I
+should've had to pay for it."
+
+"Oh, I could pay for it; it was only because I'm not very well off at
+present."
+
+"Yes, you _will_ pay for it if you don't take care," said Esther.
+
+It was very soon after that Esther had her mother's books stolen from her.
+They had not been doing much business, and she had been put to sleep in
+one of the bedrooms. The room was suddenly wanted, and she had no time to
+move all her things, and when she went to make up the room she found that
+her mother's books and a pair of jet earrings that Fred had given her had
+been stolen. She could do nothing; the couple who had occupied the room
+were far away by this time. There was no hope of ever recovering her books
+and earrings, and the loss of these things caused her a great deal of
+unhappiness. The only little treasure she possessed were those earrings;
+now they were gone, she realised how utterly alone she was in the world.
+If her health were to break down to-morrow she would have to go to the
+workhouse. What would become of her boy? She was afraid to think; thinking
+did no good. She must not think, but must just work on, washing the
+bedclothes until she could wash no longer. Wash, wash, all the week long;
+and it was only by working on till one o'clock in the morning that she
+sometimes managed to get the Sabbath free from washing. Never, not even in
+the house in Chelsea, had she had such hard work, and she was not as
+strong now as she was then. But her courage did not give way until one
+Sunday Jack came to tell her that the people who employed him had sold
+their business.
+
+Then a strange weakness came over her. She thought of the endless week of
+work that awaited her in the cellar, the great copper on the fire, the
+heaps of soiled linen in the corner, the steam rising from the wash-tub,
+and she felt she had not sufficient strength to get through another week
+of such work. She looked at her son with despair in her eyes. She had
+whispered to him as he lay asleep under her shawl, a tiny infant, "There
+is nothing for us, my poor boy, but the workhouse," and the same thought
+rose up in her mind as she looked at him, a tall lad with large grey eyes
+and dark curling hair. But she did not trouble him with her despair. She
+merely said--
+
+"I don't know how we shall pull through, Jack. God will help us."
+
+"You're washing too hard, mother. You're wasting away. Do you know no one,
+mother, who could help us?"
+
+She looked at Jack fixedly, and she thought of Mrs. Barfield. Mrs.
+Barfield might be away in the South with her daughter. If she were at
+Woodview Esther felt sure that she would not refuse to help her. So Jack
+wrote at Esther's dictation, and before they expected an answer, a letter
+came from Mrs. Barfield saying that she remembered Esther perfectly well.
+She had just returned from the South. She was all alone at Woodview, and
+wanted a servant. Esther could come and take the place if she liked. She
+enclosed five pounds, and hoped that the money would enable Esther to
+leave London at once.
+
+But this returning to former conditions filled Esther with strange
+trouble. Her heart beat as she recognised the spire of the church between
+the trees, and the undulating line of downs behind the trees awakened
+painful recollections. She knew the white gate was somewhere in this
+plantation, but could not remember its exact position; and she took the
+road to the left instead of taking the road to the right, and had to
+retrace her steps. The gate had fallen from its hinge, and she had some
+difficulty in opening it. The lodge where the blind gatekeeper used to
+play the flute was closed; the park paling had not been kept in repair;
+wandering sheep and cattle had worn away the great holly hedge; and Esther
+noticed that in falling an elm had broken through the garden wall.
+
+When she arrived at the iron gate under the bunched evergreens, her steps
+paused. For this was where she had met William for the first time. He had
+taken her through the stables and pointed out to her Silver Braid's box.
+She remembered the horses going to the downs, horses coming from the
+downs--stabling and the sound of hoofs everywhere. But now silence. She
+could see that many a roof had fallen, and that ruins of outhouses filled
+the yard. She remembered the kitchen windows, bright in the setting sun,
+and the white-capped servants moving about the great white table. But now
+the shutters were up, nowhere a light; the knocker had disappeared from
+the door, and she asked herself how she was to get in. She even felt
+afraid.... Supposing she should not find Mrs. Barfield. She made her way
+through the shrubbery, tripping over fallen branches and trunks of trees;
+rooks rose out of the evergreens with a great clatter, her heart stood
+still, and she hardly dared to tear herself through the mass of underwood.
+At last she gained the lawn, and, still very frightened, sought for the
+bell. The socket plate hung loose on the wire, and only a faint tinkle
+came through the solitude of the empty house.
+
+At last footsteps and a light; the chained door was opened a little, and a
+voice asked who it was. Esther explained; the door was opened, and she
+stood face to face with her old mistress. Mrs. Barfield stood, holding the
+candle high, so that she could see Esther. Esther knew her at once. She
+had not changed very much. She kept her beautiful white teeth and her
+girlish smile; the pointed, vixen-like face had not altered in outline,
+but the reddish hair was so thin that it had to be parted on the side and
+drawn over the skull; her figure was delicate and sprightly as ever.
+Esther noticed all this, and Mrs. Barfield noticed that Esther had grown
+stouter. Her face was still pleasant to see, for it kept that look of
+blunt, honest nature which had always been its charm. She was now the
+thick-set working woman of forty, and she stood holding the hem of her
+jacket in her rough hands.
+
+"We'd better put the chain up, for I'm alone in the house."
+
+"Aren't you afraid, ma'am?"
+
+"A little, but there's nothing to steal. I asked the policeman to keep a
+look-out. Come into the library."
+
+There was the round table, the little green sofa, the piano, the parrot's
+cage, and the yellow-painted presses; and it seemed only a little while
+since she had been summoned to this room, since she had stood facing her
+mistress, her confession on her lips. It seemed like yesterday, and yet
+seventeen years and more had gone by. And all these years were now a sort
+of a blur in her mind--a dream, the connecting links of which were gone,
+and she stood face to face with her old mistress in the old room.
+
+"You've had a cold journey, Esther; you'd like some tea?"
+
+"Oh, don't trouble, ma'am."
+
+"It's no trouble; I should like some myself. The fire's out in the
+kitchen. We can boil the kettle here."
+
+They went through the baize door into the long passage. Mrs. Barfield told
+Esther where was the pantry, the kitchen, and the larder. Esther answered
+that she remembered quite well, and it seemed to her not a little strange
+that she should know these things. Mrs. Barfield said--
+
+"So you haven't forgotten Woodview, Esther?"
+
+"No, ma'am. It seems like yesterday.... But I'm afraid the damp has got
+into the kitchen, ma'am, the range is that neglected----"
+
+"Ah, Woodview isn't what it was."
+
+Mrs. Barfield told how she had buried her husband in the old village
+church. She had taken her daughter to Egypt; she had dwindled there till
+there was little more than a skeleton to lay in the grave.
+
+"Yes, ma'am, I know how it takes them, inch by inch. My husband died of
+consumption."
+
+They sat talking for hours. One thing led to another and Esther gradually
+told Mrs. Barfield the story of her life from the day they bade each other
+good-bye in the room they were now sitting in.
+
+"It is quite a romance, Esther."
+
+"It was a hard fight, and it isn't over yet, ma'am. It won't be over until
+I see him settled in some regular work. I hope I shall live to see him
+settled."
+
+They sat over the fire a long time without speaking. Mrs. Barfield said--
+
+"It must be getting on for bedtime."
+
+"I suppose it must, ma'am."
+
+She asked if she should sleep in the room she had once shared with
+Margaret Gale. Mrs. Barfield answered with a sigh that as all the bedrooms
+were empty Esther had better sleep in the room next to hers.
+
+
+
+
+XLVI
+
+
+Esther seemed to have quite naturally accepted Woodview as a final stage.
+Any further change in her life she did not seem to regard as possible or
+desirable. One of these days her boy would get settled; he would come down
+now and again to see her. She did not want any more than that. No, she did
+not find the place lonely. A young girl might, but she was no longer a
+young girl; she had her work to do, and when it was done she was glad to
+sit down to rest.
+
+And, dressed in long cloaks, the women went for walks together; sometimes
+they went up the hill, sometimes into Southwick to make some little
+purchases. On Sundays they walked to Beeding to attend meeting. And they
+came home along the winter roads, the peace and happiness of prayer upon
+their faces, holding their skirts out of the mud, unashamed of their
+common boots. They made no acquaintances, seeming to find in each other
+all necessary companionship. Their heads bent a little forward, they
+trudged home, talking of what they were in the habit of talking, that
+another tree had been blown down, that Jack was now earning good
+money--ten shillings a week. Esther hoped it would last. Or else Esther
+told her mistress that she had heard that one of Mr. Arthur's horses had
+won a race. He lived in the North of England, where he had a small
+training stable, and his mother never heard of him except through the
+sporting papers. "He hasn't been here for four years," Mrs. Barfield said;
+"he hates the place; he wouldn't care if I were to burn it down
+to-morrow.... However, I do the best I can, hoping that one day he'll
+marry and come and live here."
+
+Mr. Arthur--that was how Mrs. Barfield and Esther spoke of him--did not
+draw any income from the estate. The rents only sufficed to pay the
+charges and the widow's jointure. All the land was let; the house he had
+tried to let, but it had been found impossible to find a tenant, unless
+Mr. Arthur would expend some considerable sum in putting the house and
+grounds into a state of proper repair. This he did not care to do; he said
+that he found race-horses a more profitable speculation. Besides, even the
+park had been let on lease; nothing remained to him but the house and lawn
+and garden; he could no longer gallop a horse on the hill without
+somebody's leave, so he didn't care what became of the place. His mother
+might go on living there, keeping things together as she called it; he did
+not mind what she did as long as she didn't bother him. So did he express
+himself regarding Woodview on the rare occasion of his visits, and when he
+troubled to answer his mother's letters. Mrs. Barfield, whose thoughts
+were limited to the estate, was pained by his indifference; she gradually
+ceased to consult him, and when Beeding was too far for her to walk she
+had the furniture removed from the drawing-room and a long deal table
+placed there instead. She had not asked herself if Arthur would object to
+her inviting a few brethren of the neighbourhood to her house for meeting,
+or publishing the meetings by notices posted on the lodge gate.
+
+One day Mrs. Barfield and Esther were walking in the avenue, when, to
+their surprise, they saw Mr. Arthur open the white gate and come through.
+The mother hastened forward to meet her son, but paused, dismayed by the
+anger that looked out of his eyes. He did not like the notices, and she
+was sorry that he was annoyed. She didn't think that he would mind them,
+and she hastened by his side, pleading her excuses. But to her great
+sorrow Arthur did not seem to be able to overcome his annoyance. He
+refused to listen, and continued his reproaches, saying the things that he
+knew would most pain her.
+
+He did not care whether the trees stood or fell, whether the cement
+remained upon the walls or dropped from them; he didn't draw a penny of
+income from the place, and did not care a damn what became of it. He
+allowed her to live there, she got her jointure out of the property, and
+he didn't want to interfere with her, but what he could not stand was the
+snuffy little folk from the town coming round his house. The Barfields at
+least were county, and he wished Woodview to remain county as long as the
+walls held together. He wasn't a bit ashamed of all this ruin. You could
+receive the Prince of Wales in a ruin, but he wouldn't care to ask him
+into a dissenting chapel. Mrs. Barfield answered that she didn't see how
+the mere assembling of a few friends in prayer could disgrace a house. She
+did not know that he objected to her asking them. She would not ask them
+any more. The only thing was that there was no place nearer than Beeding
+where they could meet, and she could no longer walk so far. She would have
+to give up meeting.
+
+"It seems to me a strange taste to want to kneel down with a lot of little
+shop-keepers.... Is this where you kneel?" he said, pointing to the long
+deal table. "The place is a regular little Bethel."
+
+"Our Lord said that when a number should gather together for prayer that
+He would be among them. Those are true words, and as we get old we feel
+more and more the want of this communion of spirit. It is only then that
+we feel that we're really with God.... The folk that you despise are equal
+in His sight. And living here alone, what should I be without prayer? and
+Esther, after her life of trouble and strife, what would she be without
+prayer?... It is our consolation."
+
+"I think one should choose one's company for prayer as for everything
+else. Besides, what do you get out of it? Miracles don't happen nowadays."
+
+"You're very young, Arthur, and you cannot feel the want of prayer as we
+do--two old women living in this lonely house. As age and solitude
+overtake us, the realities of life float away and we become more and more
+sensible to the mystery which surrounds us. And our Lord Jesus Christ gave
+us love and prayer so that we might see a little further."
+
+An expression of great beauty came upon her face, that unconscious
+resignation which, like the twilight, hallows and transforms. In such
+moments the humblest hearts are at one with nature, and speaks out of the
+eternal wisdom of things. So even this common racing man was touched, and
+he said--
+
+"I'm sorry if I said anything to hurt your religious feelings."
+
+Mrs. Barfield did not answer.
+
+"Do you not accept my apologies, mother?"
+
+"My dear boy, what do I care for your apologies; what are they to me? All
+I think of now is your conversion to Christ. Nothing else matters. I shall
+always pray for that."
+
+"You may have whom you like up here; I don't mind if it makes you happy.
+I'm ashamed of myself. Don't let's say any more about it. I'm only down
+for the day. I'm going home to-morrow."
+
+"Home, Arthur! this is your home. I can't bear to hear you speak of any
+other place as your home."
+
+"Well, mother, then I shall say that I'm going back to business
+to-morrow."
+
+Mrs. Barfield sighed.
+
+
+
+
+XLVII
+
+
+Days, weeks, months passed away, and the two women came to live more and
+more like friends and less like mistress and maid. Not that Esther ever
+failed to use the respectful "ma'am" when she addressed her mistress, nor
+did they ever sit down to a meal at the same table. But these slight
+social distinctions, which habit naturally preserved, and which it would
+have been disagreeable to both to forego, were no check on the intimacy of
+their companionship. In the evening they sat in the library sewing, or
+Mrs. Barfield read aloud, or they talked of their sons. On Sundays they
+had their meetings. The folk came from quite a distance, and sometimes as
+many as five-and-twenty knelt round the deal table in the drawing room,
+and Esther felt that these days were the happiest of her life. She was
+content in the peaceful present, and she knew that Mrs. Barfield would not
+leave her unprovided for. She was almost free from anxiety. But Jack did
+not seem to be able to obtain regular employment in London, and her wages
+were so small that she could not help him much. So the sight of his
+handwriting made her tremble, and she sometimes did not show the letter to
+Mrs. Barfield for some hours after.
+
+One Sunday morning, after meeting, as the two women were going for their
+walk up the hill, Esther said--
+
+"I've a letter from my boy, ma'am. I hope it is to tell me that he's got
+back to work."
+
+"I'm afraid I shan't be able to read it, Esther. I haven't my glasses with
+me."
+
+"It don't matter, ma'am--it'll keep."
+
+"Give it to me--his writing is large and legible. I think I can read it.
+'My dear mother, the place I told you of in my last letter was given away,
+so I must go on in the toy-shop till something better turns up. I only get
+six shillings a week and my tea, and can't quite manage on that.' Then
+something--something--'pay three and sixpence a week'--something--'bed'
+--something--something."
+
+"I know, ma'am; he shares a bed with the eldest boy."
+
+"Yes, that's it; and he wants to know if you can help him. 'I don't like
+to trouble you, mother; but it is hard for a boy to get his living in
+London.'"
+
+"But I've sent him all my money. I shan't have any till next quarter."
+
+"I'll lend you some, Esther. We can't leave the boy to starve. He can't
+live on two and sixpence a week."
+
+"You're very good, ma'am; but I don't like to take your money. We shan't
+be able to get the garden cleared this winter."
+
+"We shall manage somehow, Esther. The garden must wait. The first thing to
+do is to see that your boy doesn't want for food."
+
+The women resumed their walk up the hill. When they reached the top Mrs.
+Barfield said--
+
+"I haven't heard from Mr. Arthur for months. I envy you, Esther, those
+letters asking for a little money. What's the use of money to us except to
+give it to our children? Helping others, that is the only happiness."
+
+At the end of the coombe, under the shaws, stood the old red-tiled
+farmhouse in which Mrs. Barfield had been born. Beyond it, downlands
+rolled on and on, reaching half-way up the northern sky. Mrs. Barfield was
+thinking of the days when her husband used to jump off his cob and walk
+beside her through those gorse patches on his way to the farmhouse. She
+had come from the farmhouse beneath the shaws to go to live in an Italian
+house sheltered by a fringe of trees. That was her adventure. She knew it,
+and she turned from the view of the downs to the view of the sea. The
+plantations of Woodview touched the horizon, then the line dipped, and
+between the top branches of a row of elms appeared the roofs of the town.
+Over a long spider-legged bridge a train wriggled like a snake, the bleak
+river flowed into the harbour, and the shingle banks saved the low land
+from inundation. Then the train passed behind the square, dogmatic tower
+of the village church. Her husband lay beneath the chancel; her father,
+mother, all her relations, lay in the churchyard. She would go there in a
+few years.... Her daughter lay far away, far away in Egypt. Upon this
+downland all her life had been passed, all her life except the few months
+she had spent by her daughter's bedside in Egypt. She had come from that
+coombe, from that farmhouse beneath the shaws, and had only crossed the
+down.
+
+And this barren landscape meant as much to Esther as to her mistress. It
+was on these downs that she had walked with William. He had been born and
+bred on these downs; but he lay far away in Brompton Cemetery; it was she
+who had come back! and in her simple way she too wondered at the mystery
+of destiny.
+
+As they descended the hill Mrs. Barfield asked Esther if she ever heard of
+Fred Parsons.
+
+"No, ma'am, I don't know what's become of him."
+
+"And if you were to meet him again, would you care to marry him?"
+
+"Marry and begin life over again! All the worry and bother over again! Why
+should I marry?--all I live for now is to see my boy settled in life."
+
+The women walked on in silence, passing by long ruins of stables,
+coach-houses, granaries, rickyards, all in ruin and decay. The women
+paused and went towards the garden; and removing some pieces of the broken
+gate they entered a miniature wilderness. The espalier apple-trees had
+disappeared beneath climbing weeds, and long briars had shot out from the
+bushes, leaving few traces of the former walks--a damp, dismal place that
+the birds seemed to have abandoned. Of the greenhouse only some broken
+glass and a black broken chimney remained. A great elm had carried away a
+large portion of the southern wall, and under the dripping trees an aged
+peacock screamed for his lost mate.
+
+"I don't suppose that Jack will be able to find any more paying employment
+this winter. We must send him six shillings a week; that, with what he is
+earning, will make twelve; he'll be able to live nicely on that."
+
+"I should think he would indeed. But, then, what about the wages of them
+who was to have cleared the gardens for us?"
+
+"We shan't be able to get the whole garden cleared, but Jim will be able
+to get a piece ready for us to sow some spring vegetables, not a large
+piece, but enough for us. The first thing to do will be to cut down those
+apple-trees. I'm afraid we shall have to cut down that walnut; nothing
+could grow beneath it. Did any one ever see such a mass of weed and briar?
+Yet it is only about ten years since we left Woodview, and the garden was
+let run to waste. Nature does not take long, a few years, a very few
+years."
+
+
+
+
+XLVIII
+
+
+All the winter the north wind roamed on the hills; many trees fell in the
+park, and at the end of February Woodview seemed barer and more desolate
+than ever; broken branches littered the roadway, and the tall trunks
+showed their wounds. The women sat over their fire in the evening
+listening to the blast, cogitating the work that awaited them as soon as
+the weather showed signs of breaking.
+
+Mrs. Barfield had laid by a few pounds during the winter; and the day that
+Jim cleared out the first piece of espalier trees she spent entirely in
+the garden, hardly able to take her eyes off him. But the pleasure of the
+day was in a measure spoilt for her by the knowledge that on that day her
+son was riding in the great steeplechase. She was full of fear for his
+safety; she did not sleep that night, and hurried down at an early hour to
+the garden to ask Jim for the newspaper which she had told him to bring
+her. He took some time to extract the paper from his torn pocket.
+
+"He isn't in the first three," said Mrs. Barfield. "I always know that
+he's safe if he's in the first three. We must turn to the account of the
+race to see if there were any accidents."
+
+She turned over the paper.
+
+"Thank God, he's safe," she said; "his horse ran fourth."
+
+"You worry yourself without cause, ma'am. A good rider like him don't meet
+with accidents."
+
+"The best riders are often killed, Esther. I never have an easy moment
+when I hear he's going to ride in these races. Supposing one day I were to
+read that he was carried back on a shutter."
+
+"We mustn't let our thoughts run on such things, ma'am. If a war was to
+break out to-morrow, what should I do? His regiment would be ordered out.
+It is sad to think that he had to enlist. But, as he said, he couldn't go
+on living on me any longer. Poor boy! ...We must keep on working, doing
+the best we can for them. There are all sorts of chances, and we can only
+pray that God may spare them."
+
+"Yes, Esther, that's all we can do. Work on, work on to the end.... But
+your boy is coming to see you to-day."
+
+"Yes, ma'am, he'll be here by twelve o'clock.'"
+
+"You're luckier than I am. I wonder if I shall ever see my boy again."
+
+"Yes, ma'am, of course you will. He'll come back to you right enough one
+of these days. There's a good time coming; that's what I always says....
+And now I've got work to do in the house. Are you going to stop here, or
+are you coming in with me? It'll do you no good standing about in the wet
+clay."
+
+Mrs. Barfield smiled and nodded, and Esther paused at the broken gate to
+watch her mistress, who stood superintending the clearing away of ten
+years' growth of weeds, as much interested in the prospect of a few peas
+and cabbages as in former days she had been in the culture of expensive
+flowers. She stood on what remained of a gravel walk, the heavy clay
+clinging to her boots, watching Jim piling weeds upon his barrow. Would he
+be able to finish the plot of ground by the end of the week? What should
+they do with that great walnut-tree? Nothing would grow underneath it. Jim
+was afraid that he would not be able to cut it down and remove it without
+help. Mrs. Barfield suggested sawing away some of the branches, but Jim
+was not sure that the expedient would prove of much avail. In his opinion
+the tree took all the goodness out of the soil, and that while it stood
+they could not expect a very great show of vegetables. Mrs. Barfield asked
+if the sale of the tree trunk would indemnify her for the cost of cutting
+it down. Jim paused in his work, and, leaning on his spade, considered if
+there was any one in the town, who, for the sake of the timber, would cut
+the tree down and take it away for nothing. There ought to be some such
+person in town; if it came to that, Mrs. Barfield ought to receive
+something for the tree. Walnut was a valuable wood, was extensively used
+by cabinetmakers, and so on, until Mrs. Barfield begged him to get on with
+his digging.
+
+At twelve o'clock Esther and Mrs. Barfield walked out on the lawn. A loud
+wind came up from the sea, and it shook the evergreens as if it were angry
+with them. A rook carried a stick to the tops of the tall trees, and the
+women drew their cloaks about them. The train passed across the vista, and
+the women wondered how long it would take Jack to walk from the station.
+Then another rook stooped to the edge of the plantation, gathered a twig,
+and carried it away. The wind was rough; it caught the evergreens
+underneath and blew them out like umbrellas; the grass had not yet begun
+to grow, and the grey sea harmonised with the grey-green land. The women
+waited on the windy lawn, their skirts blown against their legs, keeping
+their hats on with difficulty. It was too cold for standing still. They
+turned and walked a few steps towards the house, and then looked round.
+
+A tall soldier came through the gate. He wore a long red cloak, and a
+small cap jauntily set on the side of his close-clipped head. Esther
+uttered a little exclamation, and ran to meet him. He took his mother in
+his arms, kissed her, and they walked towards Mrs. Barfield together. All
+was forgotten in the happiness of the moment--the long fight for his life,
+and the possibility that any moment might declare him to be mere food for
+powder and shot. She was only conscious that she had accomplished her
+woman's work--she had brought him up to man's estate; and that was her
+sufficient reward. What a fine fellow he was! She did not know he was so
+handsome, and blushing with pleasure and pride she glanced shyly at him
+out of the corners of her eyes as she introduced him to her mistress.
+
+"This is my son, ma'am."
+
+Mrs. Barfield held out her hand to the young soldier.
+
+"I have heard a great deal about you from your mother."
+
+"And I of you, ma'am. You've been very kind to my mother. I don't know how
+to thank you."
+
+And in silence they walked towards the house.
+
+
+
+
+*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, ESTHER WATERS ***
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