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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Rough Shaking + +Author: George MacDonald + + +Release Date: September, 2005 [EBook #8886] +This file was first posted on August 20, 2003 +Last Updated: March 9, 2018 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A ROUGH SHAKING *** + + + + +Text file produced by Distributed Proofreaders + +HTML file produced by David Widger + + + +</pre> + + <div style="height: 8em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + A ROUGH SHAKING + </h1> + <h2> + By George MacDonald + </h2> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <h5> + Dedicated to my great-nephew, Norman MacKay Binney, aged<br /> seven, + because his Godfather and Godmother love him dearly. <br /> <br /> + Hampstead, August 26, 1890. + </h5> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <p> + <b>CONTENTS</b> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2H_4_0001"> <b>A ROUGH SHAKING.</b> </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0001"> Chapter I. How I Came to know Clare Skymer. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0002"> Chapter II. With his parents. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0003"> Chapter III. Without his parents. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0004"> Chapter IV. The new family. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0005"> Chapter V. His new home. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0006"> Chapter VI. What did draw out his first smile. + </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0007"> Chapter VII. Clare and his brothers. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0008"> Chapter VIII. Clare and his human brothers </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0009"> Chapter IX. Clare the defender. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0010"> Chapter X. The black aunt. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0011"> Chapter XI. Clare on the farm. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0012"> Chapter XII. Clare becomes a guardian of the + poor. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0013"> Chapter XIII. Clare the vagabond. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0014"> Chapter XIV. Their first helper </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0015"> Chapter XV. Their first host. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0016"> Chapter XVI. On the tramp. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0017"> Chapter XVII. The baker's cart. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0018"> Chapter XVIII. Beating the town. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0019"> Chapter XIX. The blacksmith and his forge. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0020"> Chapter XX. Tommy reconnoitres. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0021"> Chapter XXI. Tommy is found and found out. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0022"> Chapter XXII. The smith in a rage. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0023"> Chapter XXIII. Treasure trove. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0024"> Chapter XXIV. Justifiable burglary. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0025"> Chapter XXV. A new quest. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0026"> Chapter XXVI. A new entrance. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0027"> Chapter XXVII. The baby has her breakfast. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0028"> Chapter XXVIII. Treachery. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0029"> Chapter XXIX. The baker. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0030"> Chapter XXX. The draper. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0031"> Chapter XXXI. An addition to the family. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0032"> Chapter XXXII. Shop and baby. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0033"> Chapter XXXIII. A bad penny. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0034"> Chapter XXXIV. How things went for a time. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0035"> Chapter XXXV. Clare disregards the interests of + his employers. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0036"> Chapter XXXVI. The policeman. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0037"> Chapter XXXVII. The magistrate. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0038"> Chapter XXXVIII. The workhouse. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0039"> Chapter XXXIX. Away. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0040"> Chapter XL. Maly. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0041"> Chapter XLI. The caravans. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0042"> Chapter XLII. Nimrod. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0043"> Chapter XLIII. Across country. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0044"> Chapter XLIV. A third mother. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0045"> Chapter XLV. The menagerie. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0046"> Chapter XLVI. The angel of the wild beasts. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0047"> Chapter XLVII. Glum Gunn. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0048"> Chapter XLVIII. The puma. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0049"> Chapter XLIX. Glum Gunn's revenge. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0050"> Chapter L. Clare seeks help. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0051"> Chapter LI. Clare a true master. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0052"> Chapter LII. Miss Tempest. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0053"> Chapter LIII. The gardener. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0054"> Chapter LIV. The Kitchen. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0055"> Chapter LV. The wheel rests for a time. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0056"> Chapter LVI. Strategy. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0057"> Chapter LVII. Ann Shotover. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0058"> Chapter LVIII. Child-talk. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0059"> Chapter LIX. Lovers' walks. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0060"> Chapter LX. The shoe-black. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0061"> Chapter LXI. A walk with consequences. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0062"> Chapter LXII. The cage of the puma. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0063"> Chapter LXIII. The dome of the angels. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0064"> Chapter LXIV. The panther. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0065"> Chapter LXV. At home. </a> + </p> + <p class="toc"> + <a href="#link2HCH0066"> Chapter LXVI. The end of Clare Skymer's boyhood. + </a> + </p> + <p> + <br /> <br /> + </p> + <hr /> + <p> + <a name="link2H_4_0001" id="link2H_4_0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h1> + A ROUGH SHAKING. + </h1> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0001" id="link2HCH0001"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter I. How I Came to know Clare Skymer. + </h2> + <p> + It was a day when everything around seemed almost perfect: everything + does, now and then, come nearly right for a moment or two, preparatory to + coming all right for good at the last. It was the third week in June. The + great furnace was glowing and shining in full force, driving the ship of + our life at her best speed through the ocean of space. For on deck, and + between decks, and aloft, there is so much more going on at one time than + at another, that I may well say she was then going at her best speed, for + there is quality as well as rate in motion. The trees were all well + clothed, most of them in their very best. Their garments were soaking up + the light and the heat, and the wind was going about among them, telling + now one and now another, that all was well, and getting through an immense + amount of comfort-work in a single minute. It said a word or two to myself + as often as it passed me, and made me happier than any boy I know just at + present, for I was an old man, and ought to be more easily made happy than + any mere beginner. + </p> + <p> + I was walking through the thin edge of a little wood of big trees, with a + slope of green on my left stretching away into the sunny distance, and the + shadows of the trees on my right lying below my feet. The earth and the + grass and the trees and the air were together weaving a harmony, and the + birds were leading the big orchestra—which was indeed on the largest + scale. For the instruments were so different, that some of them only were + meant for sound; the part of others was in odour, of others yet in shine, + and of still others in motion; while the birds turned it all as nearly + into words as they could. Presently, to complete the score, I heard the + tones of a man's voice, both strong and sweet. It was talking to some one + in a way I could not understand. I do not mean I could not understand the + words: I was too far off even to hear them; but I could not understand how + the voice came to be so modulated. It was deep, soft, and musical, with + something like coaxing in it, and something of tenderness, and the intent + of it puzzled me. For I could not conjecture from it the age, or sex, or + relation, or kind of the person to whom the words were spoken. You can + tell by the voice when a man is talking to himself; it ought to be evident + when he is talking to a woman; and you can, surely, tell when he is + talking to a child; you could tell if he were speaking to him who made + him; and you would be pretty certain if he was holding communication with + his dog: it made me feel strange that I could not tell the kind of ear + open to the gentle manly voice saying things which the very sound of them + made me long to hear. I confess to hurrying my pace a little, but I trust + with no improper curiosity, to see—I cannot say the interlocutors, + for I had heard, and still heard, only one voice. + </p> + <p> + About a minute's walk brought me to the corner of the wood where it + stopped abruptly, giving way to a field of beautiful grass; and then I saw + something it does not need to be old to be delighted withal: the boy that + would not have taken pleasure in it, I should count half-way to the + gallows. Up to the edge of the wood came, I say, a large field—acres + on acres of the sweetest grass; and dividing it from both wood and path + stood a fence of three bars, which at the moment separated two as genuine + lovers as ever wall of “stones with lime and hair knit up” could have + sundered. On one side of the fence stood a man whose face I could not see, + and on the other one of the loveliest horses I had ever set eyes upon. I + am no better than a middling fair horseman, but, for this horse's sake, I + may be allowed to mention that my friends will all have me look at any + horse they think of buying. He was over sixteen hands, with well rounded + barrel, clean limbs, small head, and broad muzzle; hollows above his eyes + of hazy blue, and delicacy of feature, revealed him quite an old horse. + His ears pointed forward and downward, as if they wanted on their own + account to get a hold of the man the nose was so busily caressing. + Neither, I presume, had heard my approach; for all true-love-endearments + are shy, and the man had his arm round the horse's neck, and was caressing + his face, talking to him much as Philip Sidney's lady, whose lips “seemed + at once to kiss and speak,” murmured to her pet sparrow, only here the + voice was a musical baritone. That there was something between them more + than an ordinary person would be likely to understand appeared patent. + </p> + <p> + Whether or not I made an involuntary sound I cannot tell: I was so taken + with the sight, bearing to me an aspect of something eternal, that I do + not know how I carried myself; but the horse gave a little start, half + lifted his head, saw me, threw it up, uttered a shrill neigh of warning, + stepped hack a pace, and stood motionless, waiting apparently for an order + from his master—if indeed I ought not rather to call them friends + than master and servant. + </p> + <p> + The man looked round, saw me, turned toward me, and showing no sign that + my appearance was unexpected, lifted his hat with a courtesy most + Englishmen would reserve for a lady, and advanced a step, almost as if to + welcome a guest. I may have owed something of this reception to the fact + that he saw before him a man advanced in years, for my beard is very gray, + and that by no means prematurely. I saw before me one nearly, if not quite + as old as myself. His hair and beard, both rather long, were quite white. + His face was wonderfully handsome, with the stillness of a summer sea upon + it. Its features were very marked and regular and fine, for the habit of + the man was rather spare. What with his white hair and beard, and a + certain radiance in his pale complexion, which, I learned afterward, no + sun had ever more than browned a little, he reminded me for a moment as he + turned, of Cato on the shore of Dante's purgatorial island. + </p> + <p> + “I fear,” I said, “I have intruded!” There was no path where I had come + along. + </p> + <p> + The man laughed—and his laugh was more friendly than an invitation + to dinner. + </p> + <p> + “The land is mine,” he answered; “no one can say you intrude.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you heartily. I live not very far off, and know the country pretty + well, but have got into a part of which I am ignorant.” + </p> + <p> + “You are welcome to go where you will on my property,” he answered. “I + could not close a field without some sense of having thrown a fellow-being + into a dungeon. Whatever be the rights of land, space can belong to the + individual only '<i>as it were</i>,' to use a Shakspere-phrase. All the + best things have to be shared. The house plainly was designed for a + family.” + </p> + <p> + While he spoke I scarce heeded his words for looking at the man, so much + he interested me. His face was of the palest health, with a faint light + from within. He looked about sixty years of age. His forehead was square, + and his head rather small, but beautifully modelled; his eyes were of a + light hazel, friendly as those of a celestial dog. Though slender in + build, he looked strong, and every movement denoted activity. + </p> + <p> + I was not ready with an answer to what he said. He turned from me, and as + if to introduce a companion and so render the interview easier, he called, + in tone as gentle as if he spoke to a child, but with that peculiar + intonation that had let me understand it was not to a child he was + speaking, “Memnon! come;” and turned again to me. His movement and words + directed my attention again to the horse, who had stood motionless. At + once, but without sign of haste, the animal walked up to the rails, rose + gently on his hind legs, came over without touching, walked up to his + master, and laid his head on his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + I bethought me now who the man was. He had been but a year or two in the + neighbourhood, though the property on which we now stood had been his own + for a good many years. Some said he had bought it; others knew he had + inherited it. All agreed he was a very peculiar person, with ways so oddly + unreasonable that it was evident he had, in his wanderings over the face + of the earth, gradually lost hold of what sense he might at one time have + possessed, and was in consequence a good deal cracked. There seemed + nothing, however, in his behaviour or appearance to suggest such a + conclusion: a man could hardly be counted beside himself because he was on + terms of friendship with his horse. It took me but a moment to recall his + name—Skymer—one odd enough to assist the memory. I caught it + ere he had done mingling fresh caresses with those of his long-tailed + friend. When I came to know him better, I knew that he had thus given me + opportunity—such as he would to a horse—of thinking whether I + should like to know him better: Mr. Skymer's way was not to offer himself, + but to give easy opportunity to any who might wish to know him. I learned + afterward that he knew my name and suspected my person: being rather + prejudiced in my favour because of the kind of thing I wrote, he was now + waiting to see whether approximation would follow. + </p> + <p> + “Pardon my rude lingering,” I said; “that lovely animal is enough to make + one desire nearer acquaintance with his owner. I don't think I ever saw + such a perfect creature!” + </p> + <p> + I remembered the next moment that I had heard said of Mr. Skymer that he + liked beasts better than men, but I soon found this was only one of the + foolish things constantly said of honest men by those who do not + understand them. + </p> + <p> + There are women even who love dogs and dislike children; but, nauseous + fact as this is, it is not so nauseous as the fact that there are men who + believe in no animal rights, or in any God of the animals, and think we + may do what we please with them, indulging at their cost an insane thirst + after knowledge. Injustice may discover facts, but never truth. + </p> + <p> + “I grant him nearly a perfect creature,” he answered, “But he is far more + nearly perfect than you yet know him! Excuse me for speaking so + confidently; but if we were half as far on for men, as Memnon is for a + horse, the kingdom of heaven would be a good deal nearer!” + </p> + <p> + “He seems an old horse!” + </p> + <p> + “He is an old horse—much older than you can think after seeing him + come over that paling as he did. He is forty.” + </p> + <p> + “Is it possible!” + </p> + <p> + “I know and can prove his age as certainly as my own. He is the son of an + Arab mare and an English thoroughbred.—Come here, Memnon!” + </p> + <p> + The horse, who had been standing behind like a servant in waiting, put his + beautiful head over his master's shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “Memnon,” said Mr. Skymer, “go home and tell Mrs. Waterhouse I hope to + bring a gentleman with me to lunch.” + </p> + <p> + The horse walked gently past us, then started at a quick trot, which + almost immediately became a gallop. + </p> + <p> + “The dear fellow,” said his master, “would not gallop like that if he were + on the hard road; he knows I would not like it.” + </p> + <p> + “But, excuse me, how can the animal convey your message?—how + communicate what he knows, if he does understand what you say to him?” + </p> + <p> + “He will at least take care that the housekeeper look in his mane for the + knot which perhaps you did not observe me tie in it.” + </p> + <p> + “You have a code of signals by knots then?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—comprising about half a dozen possibilities.—I hope you + do not object to the message I sent! You will do me the honour of lunching + with me?” + </p> + <p> + “You are most kind,” I answered—with a little hesitation, I suppose, + fearing to bore my new acquaintance. + </p> + <p> + “Don't make me false to horse and housekeeper, Mr. Gowrie,” he resumed.—“I + put the horse first, because I could more easily explain the thing to Mrs. + Waterhouse than to Memnon.” + </p> + <p> + “Could you explain it to Memnon?” + </p> + <p> + “I should have a try!” he answered, with a peculiar smile. + </p> + <p> + “You hold yourself bound then to keep faith with your horse?” + </p> + <p> + “Bound just as with a man—that is, as far as the horse can + understand me. A word understood is binding, whether spoken to horse, or + man, or pig. It makes it the more important that we can do so little, must + work so slowly, for the education of the lower animals. It seems to me an + absolute horror that a man should lie to an inferior creature. Just think—if + an angel were to lie to us! What a shock to find we had been reposing + faith in a devil.” + </p> + <p> + “Excuse me—I thought you said <i>an angel</i>!” + </p> + <p> + “When he lied, would he not be a devil?—But let us follow Memnon, + and as we walk I will tell you more about him.” + </p> + <p> + He turned to the wood. + </p> + <p> + “The horse,” I said, pointing, “went that way!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered his master; “he knew it was nearer for him to take the + long way round. If I had started him and one of the dogs together, the + horse would have gone that way, and the dog taken the path we are now + following.” + </p> + <p> + We walked a score or two of yards in silence. + </p> + <p> + “You promised to tell me more about your wonderful horse!” I said. + </p> + <p> + “With pleasure. I delight in talking about my poor brothers and sisters! + Most of them are only savages yet, but there would be far fewer such if we + did not treat them as slaves instead of friends. One day, however, all + will be well for them as for us—thank God.” + </p> + <p> + “I hope so,” I responded heartily. “But please tell me,” I said, + “something more about your Memnon.” + </p> + <p> + Mr. Skymer thought for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps, after all,” he rejoined, “his best accomplishment is that he can + fetch and carry like a dog. I will tell you one of his feats that way. But + first you must know that, having travelled a good deal, and in some wild + countries, I have picked up things it is well to know, even if not the + best of their kind. A man may fail by not knowing the second best! I was + once out on Memnon, five and twenty miles from home, when I came to a + cottage where I found a woman lying ill. I saw what was wanted. The + country was strange to me, and I could not have found a doctor. I wrote a + little pencil-note, fastened it to the saddle, and told the horse to go + home and bring me what the housekeeper gave him—and not to spare + himself. He went off at a steady trot of ten or twelve miles an hour. I + went into the cottage, and, awaiting his return, did what I could for the + woman. I confess I felt anxious!” + </p> + <p> + “You well might,” I said: “why should you say <i>confess</i>?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I had no business to be anxious.” + </p> + <p> + “It was your business to do all for her you could.” + </p> + <p> + “I was doing that! If I hadn't been, I should have had good cause to be + anxious! But I knew that another was looking after her; and to be anxious + was to meddle with his part!” + </p> + <p> + “I see now,” I answered, and said nothing more for some time. + </p> + <p> + “What a lather poor Memnon came back in! You should have seen him! He had + been gone nearly five hours, and neither time nor distance accounted for + the state he was in. I did not let him do anything for a week. I should + have had to sit up with him that night, if I had not been sitting up at + any rate. The poor fellow had been caught, and had made his escape. His + bridle was broken, and there were several long skin wounds in his belly, + as if he had scraped the top of a wall set with bits of glass. How far he + had galloped, there was no telling.” + </p> + <p> + “Not in vain, I hope! The poor woman?” + </p> + <p> + “She recovered. The medicine was all right in a pocket under the flap of + the saddle. Before morning she was much better, and lived many years + after. Memnon and I did not lose sight of her.—But you should have + seen the huge creature lying on the floor of that cabin like a worn-out + dog, abandoned and content! I rubbed him down carefully, as well as I + could, and tied my poncho round him, before I let him go to sleep. Then as + soon as my patient seemed quieted for the night, I made up a big fire of + her peats, and they slept like two babies, only they both snored.—The + woman beat,” he added with a merry laugh. “It was the first, almost the + only time I ever heard a horse snore.—As we walked home next day he + kept steadily behind me. In general we walked side by side. Either he felt + too tired to talk to me, or he was not satisfied with himself because of + something that had happened the day before. Perhaps he had been careless, + and so allowed himself to be taken. I do not think it likely.” + </p> + <p> + “What a loss it will be to you when he dies!” I said. + </p> + <p> + He looked grave for an instant, then replied cheerfully— + </p> + <p> + “Of course I shall miss the dear fellow—but not more than he will + miss me; and it will be good for us both.” + </p> + <p> + “Then,” said I,—a little startled, I confess, “you really think—” + and there I stopped. + </p> + <p> + “Do <i>you</i> think, Mr. Gowrie,” he rejoined, answering my unpropounded + question, “that a God like Jesus Christ, would invent such a delight for + his children as the society and love of animals, and then let death part + them for ever? I don't.” + </p> + <p> + “I am heartily willing to be your disciple in the matter,” I replied. + </p> + <p> + “I know well,” he resumed, “the vulgar laugh that serves the poor public + for sufficient answer to anything, and the common-place retort: 'You can't + give a shadow of proof for your theory!'—to which I answer, 'I never + was the fool to imagine I could; but as surely as you go to bed at night + expecting to rise again in the morning, so surely do I expect to see my + dear old Memnon again when I wake from what so many Christians call the + sleep that knows no waking.'—Think, Mr. Gowrie, just think of all + the children in heaven—what a superabounding joy the creatures would + be to them!—There is one class, however,” he went on, “which I + should like to see wait a while before they got their creatures back;—I + mean those foolish women who, for their own pleasure, so spoil their dogs + that they make other people hate them, doing their best to keep them from + rising in the scale of God's creation.” + </p> + <p> + “They don't know better!” I said. For every time he stopped, I wanted to + hear what he would say next. + </p> + <p> + “True,” he answered; “but how much do they want to know the right way of + anything? They have good and lovely instincts—like their dogs, but + do they care that there is a right way and a wrong way of following them?” + </p> + <p> + We walked in silence, and were now coming near the other side of the small + wood. + </p> + <p> + “I hope I shall not interfere with your plans for the day!” I said. + </p> + <p> + “I seldom have any plans for the day,” he answered. “Or if I have, they + are made to break easily. In general I wait. The hour brings its plans + with it—comes itself to tell me what is wanted of me. It has done so + now. And see, there is Memnon again in attendance on us!” + </p> + <p> + There, sure enough, was the horse, on the other side of the paling that + here fenced the wood from a well-kept country-road. His long neck was + stretched over it toward his master. + </p> + <p> + “Memnon,” said Mr. Skymer as we issued by the gate, “I want you to carry + this gentleman home.” + </p> + <p> + I had often enough in my youth ridden without a saddle, but seldom indeed + without some sort of bridle, however inadequate: I did not, at the first + thought of the thing, relish mounting without one a horse of which all I + knew was that he and his master were on better terms than I had ever seen + man and horse upon before. But even while the thought was passing through + my head, Memnon was lying at my feet, flat as his equine rotundity would + permit. Ashamed of my doubt, I lost not a moment in placing myself in the + position suggested by Sir John Falstaff to Prince Hal for the defence of + his own bulky carcase—astride the body of the animal, namely. At + once he rose and lifted me into the natural relation of man and horse. + Then he looked round at his master, and they set off at a leisurely pace. + </p> + <p> + “You have me captive!” I said. + </p> + <p> + “Memnon and I,” answered Mr. Skymer, “will do what we can to make your + captivity pleasant.” + </p> + <p> + A silence followed my thanks. In this procession of horse and foot, we + went about half a mile ere anything more was said worth setting down. Then + began evidence that we were drawing nigh to a house: the grassy lane + between hedges in which we had been moving, was gradually changing its + character. First came trees in the hedge-rows. Then the hedges gave way to + trees—a grand avenue of splendid elms and beeches alternated. The + ground under our feet was the loveliest sward, and between us and the sun + came the sweetest shadow. A glad heave but instant subsidence of the live + power under me, let me know Memnon's delight at feeling the soft elastic + turf under his feet: he had said to himself, “Now we shall have a gallop!” + but immediately checked the thought with the reflection that he was no + longer a colt ignorant of manners. + </p> + <p> + “What a lovely road the turf makes!” I said. “It is a lower sky—solidified + for feet that are not yet angelic.” + </p> + <p> + My host looked up with a brighter smile than he had shown before. + </p> + <p> + “It is the only kind of road I really like,” he said, “—though turf + has its disadvantages! I have as much of it about the place as it will + bear. Such roads won't do for carriages!” + </p> + <p> + “You ride a good deal, I suppose?” + </p> + <p> + “I do. I was at one time so accustomed to horseback that, without + thinking, I was not aware whether I was on my horse's feet or my own.” + </p> + <p> + “Where, may I ask, does my friend who is now doing me the favour to carry + 'this weight and size,' come from?” + </p> + <p> + “He was born in England, but his mother was a Syrian—of one of the + oldest breeds there known. He was born into my arms, and for a week never + touched the ground. Next month, as I think I mentioned, he will be forty + years old!” + </p> + <p> + “It is a great age for a horse!” I said. + </p> + <p> + “The more the shame as well as the pity!” he answered. + </p> + <p> + “Then you think horses might live longer?” + </p> + <p> + “Much longer than they are allowed to live in this country,” he answered. + “And a part of our punishment is that we do not know them. We treat them + so selfishly that they do not live long enough to become our friends. At + present there are but few men worthy of their friendship. What else is a + man's admiration, when it is without love or respect or justice, but a + bitter form of despite! It is small wonder there should be so many stupid + horses, when they receive so little education, have such bad associates, + and die so much too young to have gained any ripe experience to transmit + to their posterity. Where would humanity be now, if we all went before + five-and-twenty?” + </p> + <p> + “I think you must be right. I have myself in my possession at this moment, + given me by one who loved her, an ink-stand made from the hoof of a pony + that died at the age of at least forty-two, and did her part of the work + of a pair till within a year or two of her death.—Poor little + Zephyr!” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Mr. Gowrie, you talk of her as if she were a Christian!” exclaimed + Mr. Skymer. + </p> + <p> + “That's how you talked of Memnon a moment ago! Where is the difference? + Not in the size, though Memnon would make three of Zephyr!” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't say <i>poor Memnon</i>, did I? You said <i>poor Zephyr</i>! That + is the way Christians talk about their friends gone home to the grand old + family mansion! Why they do, they would hardly like one to tell them!” + </p> + <p> + “It is true,” I responded. “I understand you now! I don't think I ever + heard a widow speak of her departed husband without putting <i>poor</i>, + or <i>poor dear</i>, before his name.—By the way, when you hear a + woman speak of her <i>late</i> husband, can you help thinking her ready to + marry again?” + </p> + <p> + “It does sound as if she had done with him! But here we are at the gate!—Call, + Memnon.” + </p> + <p> + The horse gave a clear whinny, gentle, but loud enough to be heard at some + distance. It was a tall gate of wrought iron, but Memnon's summons was + answered by one who could clear it—though not open it any more than + he: a little bird, which I was not ornithologist enough to recognize—mainly + because of my short-sightedness, I hope—came fluttering from the + long avenue within, perched on the top of the gate, looked down at our + party for a moment as if debating the prudent, dropped suddenly on + Memnon's left ear, and thence to his master's shoulder, where he sat till + the gate was opened. The little one went half-way up the inner avenue with + us, making several flights and returns before he left us. + </p> + <p> + The boy that opened the gate, a chubby little fellow of seven, looked up + in Mr. Skymer's face as if he had been his father and king in one, and + stood gazing after him as long as he was in sight. I noticed also—who + could have failed to notice?—that every now and then a bird would + drop from the tree we were passing under, and alight for a minute on my + host's head. Once when he happened to uncover it, seven or eight perched + together upon it. One tiny bird got caught in his beard by the claws. + </p> + <p> + “You cannot surely have tamed <i>all</i> the birds in your grounds!” I + said. + </p> + <p> + “If I have,” he answered, “it has been by permitting them to be + themselves.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean it is the nature of birds to be friendly with man?” + </p> + <p> + “I do. Through long ages men have been their enemies, and so have + alienated them—they too not being themselves.” + </p> + <p> + “You mean that unfriendliness is not natural to men?” + </p> + <p> + “It cannot be human to be cruel!” + </p> + <p> + “How is it, then, that so many boys are careless what suffering they + inflict?” + </p> + <p> + “Because they have in them the blood of men who loved cruelty, and never + repented of it.” + </p> + <p> + “But how do you account for those men loving cruelty—for their being + what you say is contrary to their nature?” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, if I could account for that, I should be at the secret of most + things! All I meant to half-explain was, how it came that so many who have + no wish to inflict suffering, yet are careless of inflicting it.” + </p> + <p> + I saw that we must know each other better before he would quite open his + mind to me. I saw that though, hospitable of heart, he threw his best + rooms open to all, there were others in his house into which he did not + invite every acquaintance. + </p> + <p> + The avenue led to a wide gravelled space before a plain, low, long + building in whitish stone, with pillared portico. In the middle of the + space was a fountain, and close to it a few chairs. Mr. Skymer begged me + to be seated. Memnon walked up to the fountain, and lay down, that I might + get off his back as easily as I had got on it. Once down, he turned on his + side, and lay still. + </p> + <p> + “The air is so mild,” said my host, “I fancy you will prefer this to the + house.” + </p> + <p> + “Mild!” I rejoined; “I should call it hot!” + </p> + <p> + “I have been so much in real heat!” he returned. “Notwithstanding my love + of turf, I keep this much in gravel for the sake of the desert.” + </p> + <p> + I took the seat he offered me, wondering whether Memnon was comfortable + where he lay; and, absorbed in the horse, did not see my host go to the + other side of the basin. Suddenly we were “clothed upon” with a house + which, though it came indeed from the earth, might well have come direct + from heaven: a great uprush of water spread above us a tent-like dome, + through which the sun came with a cool, broken, almost frosty glitter. We + seemed in the heart of a huge soap-bubble. I exclaimed with delight. + </p> + <p> + “I thought you would enjoy my sun-shade!” said Mr. Skymer. “Memnon and I + often come here of a hot morning, when nobody wants us. Don't we, Memnon?” + </p> + <p> + The horse lifted his nose a little, and made a low soft noise, a chord of + mingled obedience and delight—a moan of pleasure mixed with a + half-born whinny. + </p> + <p> + We had not been seated many moments, and had scarcely pushed off the shore + of silence into a new sea of talk, when we were interrupted by the + invasion of half a dozen dogs. They were of all sorts down to no sort. Mr. + Skymer called one of them Tadpole—I suppose because he had the + hugest tail, while his legs were not visible without being looked for. + </p> + <p> + “That animal,” said his master, “—he looks like a dog, but who would + be positive what he was!—is the cleverest in the pack. He seems to + me a rare individuality. His ancestors must have been of all sorts, and he + has gathered from them every good quality possessed by each. Think what a + man might be—made up that way!” + </p> + <p> + “Why is there no such man?” I said. + </p> + <p> + “There may be some such men. There must be many one day,” he answered, “—but + not for a while yet. Men must first be made willing to be noble.” + </p> + <p> + “And you don't think men willing to be made noble?” + </p> + <p> + “Oh yes! willing enough, some of them, to be <i>made</i> noble!” + </p> + <p> + “I do not understand. I thought you said they were not!” + </p> + <p> + “They are willing enough <i>to be made</i> noble; but that is very + different from being willing <i>to be</i> noble: that takes trouble. How + can any one become noble who desires it so little as not to fight for it!” + </p> + <p> + The man drew me more and more. He had a way of talking about things seldom + mentioned except in dull fashion in the pulpit, as if he cared about them. + He spoke as of familiar things, but made you feel he was looking out of a + high window. There are many who never speak of real things except in a + false tone; this man spoke of such without an atom of assumed solemnity—in + his ordinary voice: they came into his mind as to their home—not as + dreams of the night, but as facts of the day. + </p> + <p> + I sat for a while, gazing up through the thin veil of water at the blue + sky so far beyond. I thought how like that veil was to our little life + here, overdomed by that boundless foreshortening of space. The lines in + Shelley's <i>Adonais</i> came to me: + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “Life, like a dome of many-coloured glass, + Stains the white radiance of Eternity, + Until Death tramples it to fragments.” + </pre> + <p> + Then I thought of what my host had said concerning the too short lives of + horses, and wondered what he would say about those of dogs. + </p> + <p> + “Dogs are more intelligent than horses,” I said: “why do they live a yet + shorter time?” + </p> + <p> + “I doubt if you would say so in an Arab's tent,” he returned. “If you had + said, 'still more affectionate,' I should have known better how to answer + you.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I do say so,” I replied. + </p> + <p> + “And I return, that is just why they live no longer. They do not find the + world good enough for them, die, and leave it.” + </p> + <p> + “They have a much happier life than horses!” + </p> + <p> + “Many dogs than some horses, I grant.” + </p> + <p> + That instant arose what I fancied must be an unusual sound in the place: + two of the dogs were fighting. The master got up. I thought with myself, + “Now we shall see his notions of discipline!” nor had I long to wait. In + his hand was a small riding-whip, which I afterward found he always + carried in avoidance of having to inflict a heavier punishment from + inability to inflict a lighter; for he held that in all wrong-doing man + can deal with, the kindest thing is not only to punish, but, with animals + especially, to punish at once. He ran to the conflicting parties. They + separated the moment they heard the sound of his coming. One came cringing + and crawling to his feet; the other—it was the nondescript Tadpole—stood + a little way off, wagging his tail, and cocking his head up in his + master's face. He gave the one at his feet several pretty severe cuts with + the whip, and sent him off. The other drew nearer. His master turned away + and took no notice of him. + </p> + <p> + “May I ask,” I said, when he returned to his seat, “why you did not punish + both the animals for their breach of the peace?” + </p> + <p> + “They did not both deserve it.” + </p> + <p> + “How could you tell that? You were not looking when the quarrel began!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, but you see I know the dogs! One of them—I saw at a glance how + it was—had found a bone, and dog-rule about finding is, that what + you find is yours. The other, notwithstanding, wanted a share. It was + Tadpole who found the bone, and he—partly from his sense of justice—cannot + endure to have his claims infringed upon. Every dog of them knows that + Tadpole must be in the right.” + </p> + <p> + “He looked as if he expected you to approve of his conduct!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that is the worst of Tadpole! he is so self-righteous as to imagine + he deserves praise for standing on his rights! He is but a dog, you see, + and knows no better!” + </p> + <p> + “I noticed you disregarded his appeal.” + </p> + <p> + “I was not going to praise him for nothing!” + </p> + <p> + “You expect them to understand your treatment?” + </p> + <p> + “No one can tell how infinitesimally small the beginnings of + understanding, as of life, may be. The only way to make animals reasonable—more + reasonable, I mean—is to treat them as reasonable. Until you can go + down into the abysses of creation, you cannot know when a nature begins to + see a difference in quality of action.” + </p> + <p> + “I confess,” I said, “Mr. Tadpole did seem a little ashamed as he went + away.” + </p> + <p> + “And you see Blanco White at my feet, taking care not to touch them. He is + giving time, he thinks, for my anger to pass.” + </p> + <p> + He laughed the merriest laugh. The dog looked up eagerly, but dropped his + head again. + </p> + <p> + If I go on like this, however, I shall have to take another book to tell + the story for which I began the present! In short, I was drawn to the man + as never to another since the friend of my youth went where I shall go to + seek and find him one day—or, more likely, one solemn night. I was + greatly his inferior, but love is a quick divider of shares: he that + gathers much has nothing over, and he that gathers little has no lack. I + soon ceased to think of him as my <i>new</i> friend, for I seemed to have + known him before I was born. + </p> + <p> + I am going to tell the early part of his history. If only I could tell it + as it deserves to be told! The most interesting story may be so narrated + as that only the eyes of a Shakspere could spy the shine underneath its + dull surface. + </p> + <p> + He never told me any great portion of the tale of his life continuously. + One thing would suggest another—generally with no connection in + time. I have pieced the parts together myself. He did indeed set out more + than once or twice to give me his history, but always we got discussing + something, and so it was interrupted. + </p> + <p> + I will not write what I have set in order as if he were himself narrating: + the most modest man in the world would that way be put at a disadvantage. + The constant recurrence of the capital <i>I</i>, is apt to rouse in the + mind of the reader, especially if he be himself egotistic, more or less of + irritation at the egotism of the narrator—while in reality the + freedom of a man's personal utterance <i>may</i> be owing to his lack of + the egotistic. Partly for my friend's sake, therefore, I shall tell the + story as—what indeed it is—a narrative of my own concerning + him. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0002" id="link2HCH0002"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter II. With his parents. + </h2> + <p> + The lingering, long-drawn-out <i>table d'hôte</i> dinner was just over in + one of the inns on the <i>cornice</i> road. The gentlemen had gone into + the garden, and some of the ladies to the <i>salotto</i>, where open + windows admitted the odours of many a flower and blossoming tree, for it + was toward the end of spring in that region. One had sat down to a + tinkling piano, and was striking a few chords, more to her own pleasure + than that of the company. Two or three were looking out into the garden, + where the diaphanous veil of twilight had so speedily thickened to the + crape of night, its darkness filled with thousands of small isolated + splendours—fire-flies, those “golden boats” never seen “on a sunny + sea,” but haunting the eves of the young summer, pulsing, pulsing through + the dusky air with seeming aimlessness, like sweet thoughts that have no + faith to bind them in one. A tall, graceful woman stood in one of the + windows alone. She had never been in Italy before, had never before seen + fire-flies, and was absorbed in the beauty of their motion as much as in + that of their golden flashes. Each roving star had a tide in its light + that rose and ebbed as it moved, so that it seemed to push itself on by + its own radiance, ever waxing and waning. In wide, complicated dance, they + wove a huge, warpless tapestry with the weft of an ever vanishing aureate + shine. The lady, an Englishwoman evidently, gave a little sigh and looked + round, regretting, apparently, that her husband was not by her side to + look on the loveliness that woke a faint-hued fairy-tale in her heart. The + same moment he entered the room and came to her. He was a man above the + middle height, and from the slenderness of his figure, looked taller than + he was. He had a vivacity of motion, a readiness to turn on his heel, a + free swing of the shoulders, and an erect carriage of the head, which all + marked him a man of action: one that speculated on his calling would + immediately have had his sense of fitness satisfied when he heard that he + was the commander of an English gun-boat, which he was now on his way to + Genoa to join. He was young—within the twenties, though looking two + or three and thirty, his face was so browned by sun and wind. His features + were regular and attractive, his eyes so dark that the liveliness of their + movement seemed hardly in accord with the weight of their colour. His wife + was very fair, with large eyes of the deepest blue of eyes. She looked + delicate, and was very lovely. They had been married about five years. A + friend had brought them in his yacht as far as Nice, and they were now + going on by land. From Genoa the lady must find her way home without her + husband. + </p> + <p> + The lights in the room having been extinguished that the few present might + better see the fire-flies, he put his arm round her waist. + </p> + <p> + “I'm so glad you're come, Henry!” she said, favoured by the piano. “I was + uncomfortable at having the lovely sight all to myself!” + </p> + <p> + “It is lovely, darling!” he rejoined; then, after a moment's pause, added, + “I hope you will be able to sleep without the sea to rock you!” + </p> + <p> + “No fear of that!” she answered. “The stillness will be delightful. I was + thoroughly reconciled to the motion of the yacht,” she went on, “but there + is a satisfaction in feeling the solid earth under you, and knowing it + will keep steady all night.” + </p> + <p> + “I am glad you like the change. I never sleep the first night on shore.—I + cannot tell what it is, but somehow I keep wishing Fyvie could have taken + us all the way.” + </p> + <p> + “Never mind, love. I will keep awake with you.” + </p> + <p> + “It's not that! How could I mind lying awake with you beside me! Oh Grace, + you don't know, you cannot know, what you are to me! I don't feel in the + least that you're my other half, as people say. You're not like a part of + myself at all; to think so would be sacrilege! You are quite another, else + how could you be mine! You make me forget myself altogether. When I look + at you, I stand before an enchanted mirror that cannot show what is in + front of it.” + </p> + <p> + “No, Harry; I'm a true mirror, for I hold that inside me which remains + outside me.” + </p> + <p> + “I fear you've got beyond me!” said her husband, laughing. “You always + do!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, at nonsense, Harry.” + </p> + <p> + “Then your speech was nonsense, was it?” + </p> + <p> + “No; it was full of sense. But think of something you would like me to + say; I must fetch the boy to see the fire-flies; when I come back I will + say it.” + </p> + <p> + She left the room. Her husband stood where he was, gazing out, with a + tender look in his face that deepened to sadness—whether from the + haunting thought of his wife's delicate health and his having to leave + her, or from some strange foreboding, I cannot tell. When presently she + returned with their one child in her arms, he made haste to take him from + her. + </p> + <p> + “My darling,” he said, “he is much too heavy for you! How stupid of me not + to think of it! If you don't promise me never to do that at home, I will + take him to sea with me!” + </p> + <p> + The child, a fair, bright boy, the sleep in whose eyes had turned to + wonder, for they seemed to see everything, and be quite satisfied with + nothing, went readily to his father, but looked back at his mother. The + only sign he gave that he was delighted with the fire-flies was, that he + looked now to the one, now to the other of his parents, speechless, with + shining eyes. He knew they were feeling just like himself. Silent + communion was enough. + </p> + <p> + The father turned to carry him back to bed. The mother turned to look + after them. As she did so, her eyes fell upon two or three delicate, + small-leaved plants—I do not know what they were—that stood in + pots on the balcony in front of the open window: they were shivering. The + night was perfectly still, but their leaves trembled as with an ague-fit. + </p> + <p> + “Look, Harry! What is that?” she cried, pointing to them. + </p> + <p> + He turned and looked, said it must be some loaded wagon passing, and went + off with the child. + </p> + <p> + “I hope to-morrow will be just like to-day!” said his wife when he + returned. “What shall we do with it?—our one real holiday, you + know!” + </p> + <p> + “I have a notion in my head,” he answered. “That little town Georgina + spoke of, is not far from here—among the hills: shall we go and see + it?” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0003" id="link2HCH0003"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter III. Without his parents. + </h2> + <p> + The sun in England seems to shine because he cannot help it; the sun in + Italy seems to shine because he means it, and wants to mean it. Thus he + shone the next morning, including in his attentions a curious little + couple, husband and wife, who, attended by a guide, and borne by animals + which might be mules and might be donkeys, and were not lovely to look on + except through sympathy with their ugliness, were slowly ascending a steep + terraced and zigzagged road, with olive trees above and below them. They + were on the south side of the hill, and the olives gave them none of the + little shadow they have in their power, for the trees next the sun were + always below the road. The man often wiped his red, innocent face, and + looked not a little distressed; but the lady, although as stout as he, did + not seem to suffer, perhaps because she was sheltered by a very large + bonnet After a silence of a good many minutes, she was the first to speak. + </p> + <p> + “I can't say but I'm disappointed in the olives, Thomas,” she remarked. + “They ain't much to keep the sun off you!” + </p> + <p> + “They wouldn't look bad along a brookside in Essex!” returned her husband. + “Here they do seem a bit out of place!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, but, poor things! how are they to help it—with only a trayful + of earth under their feet! If you planted a priest on a terrace he would + soon be as thin as they!” + </p> + <p> + They had just passed a very stout priest, in a low broad hat, and cassock, + and she laughed merrily at her small joke. They were an English country + parson and his wife, abroad for the first time in their now middle-aged + lives, and happy as children just out of school. Incapable of disliking + anybody, there was no unkindness in Mrs. Porson's laughter. + </p> + <p> + “I don't see,” she resumed, “how they ever can have a picnic in such a + country!” + </p> + <p> + “Why not?” + </p> + <p> + “There's no place to sit down!” + </p> + <p> + “Here's a whole hill-side!” + </p> + <p> + “But so hard!” she answered. “There's not an inch of turf or grass in any + direction!” + </p> + <p> + The pair—equally plump, and equally good-natured—laughed + together. + </p> + <p> + I need not give more of their talk. It was better than most talk, yet not + worth recording. Their guide, perceiving that they knew no more of Italian + than he did of English, had withdrawn to the rear, and stumped along + behind them all the way, holding much converse with his donkeys however, + admonishing now this one, now that one, and seeming not a little hurt with + their behaviour, to judge from the expostulations that accompanied his + occasionally more potent arguments. Assuredly the speed they made was + small; but it was a festa, and hot. + </p> + <p> + They were on the way to a small town some distance from the shore, on the + crest of the hill they were now ascending. It would, from the number of + its inhabitants, have been in England a village, but there are no villages + in the Riviera. However insignificant a place may be, it is none the less + a town, possibly a walled town. Somebody had told Mr. and Mrs. Person they + ought to visit Graffiacane, and to Graffiacane they were therefore bound: + why they ought to visit it, and what was to be seen there, they took the + readiest way to know. + </p> + <p> + The place was indeed a curious one, high among the hills, and on the top + of its own hill, with approaches to it like the trenches of a siege. All + the old towns in that region seem to have climbed up to look over the + heads of other things. Graffiacane saw over hills and valleys and many + another town—each with its church standing highest, the guardian of + the flock of houses beneath it; saw over many a water-course, mostly dry, + with lovely oleanders growing in the middle of it; saw over multitudinous + oliveyards and vineyards; saw over mills with great wheels, and little + ribbons of water to drive them—running sometimes along the tops of + walls to get at their work; saw over rugged pines, and ugly, verdureless, + raw hillsides—away to the sea, lying in the heat like a heavenly vat + in which all the tails of all the peacocks God was making, lay steeped in + their proper dye. Numerous were the sharp turns the donkeys made in their + ascent; and at this corner and that, the sweetest life-giving wind would + leap out upon the travellers, as if it had been lying there in wait to + surprise them with the heavenliest the old earth, young for all her years, + could give them. But they were getting too tired to enjoy anything, and + were both indeed not far from asleep on the backs of their humble beasts, + when a sudden, more determined yet more cheerful assault of their guide + upon his donkeys, roused both them and their riders; and looking sleepily + up, with his loud <i>heeoop</i> ringing in their ears, and a sense of the + insidious approach of two headaches, they saw before them the little town, + its houses gathered close for protection, like a brood of chickens, and + the white steeple of the church rising above them, like the neck of the + love-valiant hen. + </p> + <p> + Passing through the narrow arch of the low-browed gateway, hot as was the + hour, a sudden cold struck to their bones. For not a ray of light shone + into the narrow street. The houses were lofty as those of a city, and + parted so little by the width of the street that friends on opposite sides + might almost from their windows have shaken hands. Narrow, rough, steep + old stone-stairs ran up between and inside the houses, all the doors of + which were open to the air—here, however, none of the sweetest. + Everywhere was shadow; everywhere one or another evil odour; everywhere a + look of abject and dirty poverty—to an English eye, that is. + Everywhere were pretty children, young, slatternly mothers, withered-up + grandmothers, the gleam of glowing reds and yellows, and the coolness of + subdued greens and fine blues. Such at least was the composite first + impression made on Mr. and Mrs. Porson. As it was a festa, more men than + usual were looking out of cavern-like doorways or over hand-wrought iron + balconies, were leaning their backs against door-posts, and smoking as if + too lazy to stop. Many of the women were at prayers in the church. All was + orderly, and quieter than usual for a festa. None could have told the + reason; the townsfolk were hardly aware that an undefinable oppression was + upon them—an oppression that lay also upon their visitors, and the + donkeys that had toiled with them up the hills and slow-climbing valleys. + </p> + <p> + It added to the gloom and consequent humidity of the town that the sides + of the streets were connected, at the height of two or perhaps three + stories, by thin arches—mere jets of stone from the one house to the + other, with but in rare instance the smallest superstructure to keep down + the key of the arch. Whatever the intention of them, they might seem to + serve it, for the time they had straddled there undisturbed had sufficed + for moss and even grass to grow upon those which Mr. Porson now regarded + with curious speculation. A bit of an architect, and foiled, he summoned + at last what Italian he could, supplemented it with Latin and a + terminational <i>o</i> or <i>a</i> tacked to any French or English word + that offered help, and succeeded, as he believed, in gathering from a + by-stander, that the arches were there because of the earthquakes. + </p> + <p> + He had not language enough of any sort to pursue the matter, else he would + have asked his informant how the arch they were looking at could be of any + service, seeing it had no weight on the top, and but a slight endlong + pressure must burst it up. Turning away to tell his wife what he had + learned, he was checked by a low rumbling, like distant thunder, which he + took for the firing of festa guns, having discovered that Italians were + fond of all kinds of noises. The next instant they felt the ground under + their feet move up and down and from side to side with confused motion. A + sudden great cry arose. One moment and down every stair, out of every + door, like animals from their holes, came men, women, and children, with a + rush. The earthquake was upon them. + </p> + <p> + But in such narrow streets, the danger could hardly be less than inside + the houses, some of which, the older especially, were ill constructed—mostly + with boulder-stones that had neither angles nor edges, hence little grasp + on each other beyond what the friction of their weight, and the adhesion + of their poor old friable cement, gave them; for the Italians, with a + genius for building, are careless of certain constructive essentials. + After about twenty seconds of shaking, the lonely pair began to hear, + through the noise of the cries of the people, some such houses as these + rumbling to the earth. + </p> + <p> + They were far more bewildered than frightened. They were both of good + nerve, and did not know the degree of danger they were in, while the + strangeness of the thing contributed to an excitement that helped their + courage. I cannot say how they might have behaved in an hotel full of + their countrymen and countrywomen, running and shrieking, and altogether + comporting themselves as if they knew there was no God. The fear on all + sides might there have infected them; but the terror of the inhabitants + who knew better than they what the thing meant, did not much shake them. + For one moment many of the people stood in the street motionless, pale, + and staring; the next they all began to run, some for the gateway, but the + greater part up the street, staggering as they ran. The movement of the + ground was indeed small—not more, perhaps, than half an inch in any + direction—but fear and imagination weakened all their limbs. They + had not run far, however, before the terrible unrest ceased as suddenly as + it had begun. + </p> + <p> + The English pair drew a long breath where they stood—for they had + not stirred a step, or indeed thought whither to run—and imagining + it over for a hundred years, looked around them. Their guide had + disappeared. The two donkeys stood perfectly still with their heads + hanging down. They seemed in deep dejection, and incapable of movement. A + few men only were yet to be seen. They were running up the street. In a + moment more it would be empty. They were the last of those that had let + the women go to church without them. They were hurrying to join them in + the sanctuary, the one safe place: the rest of the town might be shaken in + heaps on its foundations, but the church would stand! Guessing their goal, + the Porsons followed them. But they were neither of a build nor in a + condition to make haste, and the road was uphill. No one place, however, + was far from another within the toy-town, and they came presently to an + open <i>piazza</i>, on the upper side of which rose the great church. It + had a square front, masking with its squareness the triangular gable of + the building. Upon this screen, in the brightest of colours, magenta and + sky-blue predominating, was represented the day of judgment—the + mother seated on the right hand of the judge, and casting a pitiful look + upon the miserable assembly on her left. The square was a good deal on the + slope, and as they went slowly up to the church, they kept looking at the + picture. The last tatters of the skirt of the crowd had disappeared + through the great door, and but for themselves the square was empty. All + at once the picture at which they were gazing, the spread of wall on which + it was painted, the whole bulk of the huge building began to shudder, and + went on shuddering—“just,” Mr. Porson used to say when describing + the thing to a friend, “like the skin of a horse determined to get rid of + a gad-fly.” The same moment the tiles on the roof began to clatter like so + many castanets in the hands of giants, and the ground to wriggle and + heave. But they were too much absorbed in what was before their eyes to + heed much what went on under their feet. The oscillatory displacement of + the front of the church did not at most seem to cover more than a + hand-breadth, but it was enough. Down came the plaster surface, with the + judge and his mother, clashing on the pavement below, while the good and + the bad yet stood trembling. A few of the people came running out, + thinking the open square after all safer than the church, but there was no + rush to the open air. The shaking had lasted about twenty seconds, or at + most half a minute, when, without indication to the eyes watching the + front, there came a roaring crash and a huge rumbling, through and far + above which, rose a multitudinous shriek of terror, dismay, and agony, and + a number of men and women issued as if shot from a catapult. Then a few + came straggling out, and then—no more. The roof had fallen upon the + rest. + </p> + <p> + With the first rush from the church, the shaking ceased utterly, and the + still earth seemed again the immovable thing the English spectators had + conceived her. Of what had taken place there was little sign on the earth, + no sign in the blue sun-glorious heaven; only in the air there was a cloud + of dust so thick as to look almost solid, and from the cloud, as it + seemed, came a ghastly cry, mingled of shrieks and groans and articulate + appeals for help. The cry kept on issuing, while the calm front of the + church, dominated by that frightful canopy, went on displaying the + assembled nations delivered from their awful judge. While the multitude + groaned within, it spread itself out to the sun in silent composure, + welcoming and cherishing his rays in what was left of its gorgeous hues. + </p> + <p> + The Porsons stood for a moment stunned, came to their senses, and made + haste to enter the building. With white faces and trembling hands, they + drew aside the heavy leather curtain that hung within the great door, but + could for a moment see nothing; the air inside seemed filled with a solid + yellow dust As their eyes recovered from the sudden change of sunlight for + gloom, however, they began to distinguish the larger outlines, and + perceived that the floor was one confused heap of rafters and bricks and + tiles and stones and lime. The centre of the roof had been a great dome; + now there was nothing between their eyes and the clear heaven but the + slowly vanishing cloud of ruin. In the mound below they could at first + distinguish nothing human—could not have told, in the dim chaos, + limbs from broken rafters. Eager to help, they dared not set their feet + upon the mass—not that they feared the walls which another shock + might bring upon their heads, but that they shuddered lest their own added + weight should crush some live human creature they could not descry. Three + or four who had received little or no hurt, were moving about the edges of + the heap, vaguely trying to lift now this, now that, but yielding each + attempt in despair, either from its evident uselessness, or for lack of + energy. They would give a pull at a beam that lay across some writhing + figure, find it immovable, and turn with a groan to some farther cry. How + or where were they to help? Others began to come in with white faces and + terror-stricken eyes; and before long the sepulchral ruin had little + groups all over it, endeavouring in shiftless fashion to bring rescue to + the prisoned souls. + </p> + <p> + The Porsons saw nothing they could do. Great beams and rafters which it + was beyond their power to move an inch, lay crossed in all directions; and + they could hold little communication with those who were in a fashion at + work. Alas, they were little better than vainly busy, while the louder + moans accompanying their attempts revealed that they added to the tortures + of those they sought to deliver! The two saw more plainly now, and could + distinguish contorted limbs, and here and there a countenance. The + silence, more and more seldom broken, was growing itself terrible. Had + they known how many were buried there, they would have wondered so few + were left able to cry out. At moments there was absolute stillness in the + dreadful place. The heart of Mrs. Porson began to sink. + </p> + <p> + “Do come out,” she whispered, afraid of her own voice. “I feel so sick and + faint, I fear I shall drop.” + </p> + <p> + As she spoke something touched her leg. She gave a cry and started aside. + It was a hand, but of the body to which it belonged nothing could be seen. + It must have been its last movement; now it stuck there motionless. Then + they spied amid sad sights a sadder still. Upon the heap, a little way + from its edge, sat a child of about three, dressed like a sailor, gazing + down at something—they could not see what. Going a little nearer, + they saw it—the face of a fair woman, evidently English, who lay + dead, with a great beam across her heart. The child showed no trace of + tears; his white face seemed frozen. The stillness upon it was not + despair, but suggested a world in which hope had never yet been born. Pity + drove Mrs. Porson's sickness away. + </p> + <p> + “My dear!” she said; but the child took no heed. Her voice, however, + seemed to wake something in him. He started to his feet, and rushing at + the beam, began to tug at it with his tiny hands. Mrs. Porson burst into + tears. + </p> + <p> + “It's no use, darling!” she cried. + </p> + <p> + “Wake mamma!” he said, turning, and looking up at her. + </p> + <p> + “She will not wake,” sobbed Mrs. Porson. + </p> + <p> + Her husband stood by speechless, choking back the tears of which, being an + Englishman, he was ashamed. + </p> + <p> + “She <i>will</i> wake,” returned the boy. “She always wakes when I kiss + her.” + </p> + <p> + He knelt beside her, to prove upon her white face the efficacy of the + measure he had never until now known to fail. That he had already tried it + was plain, for he had kissed away much of the dust, though none of the + death. When once more he found that she did not even close her lips to + return his passionate salute, he desisted. With that saddest of things, a + child's sigh, and a look that seemed to Mrs. Porson to embody the riddle + of humanity, he reseated himself on the beam, with his little feet on his + mother's bosom, where so often she had made them warm. He did not weep; he + did not fix his eyes on his mother; his look was level and moveless and + set upon nothing. He seemed to have before him an utter blank—as if + the outer wall of creation had risen frowning in front, and he knew there + was nothing behind it but chaos. + </p> + <p> + “Where is your papa?” asked Mr. Porson. + </p> + <p> + The boy looked round bewildered. + </p> + <p> + “Gone,” he answered; nor could they get anything more from him. + </p> + <p> + “Was your papa with you here?” asked Mrs. Porson. + </p> + <p> + He answered only with the word <i>Gone</i>, uttered in a dazed fashion. + </p> + <p> + By this time all the men left in the town were doing their best, under the + direction of an intelligent man, the priest of a neighbouring parish. They + had already got one or two out alive, and their own priest dead. They + worked well, their terror of the lurking earthquake forgotten in their + eagerness to rescue. From their ignorance of the language, however, Mr. + Porson saw they could be of little use; and in dread of doing more harm + than good, he judged it better to go. + </p> + <p> + They stood one moment and looked at each other in silence. The child had + dropped from the beam, and lay fast asleep across his mother's bosom, with + his head on a lump of mortar. Without a word spoken, Mrs. Person, picking + her way carefully to the spot, knelt down by the dead mother, tenderly + kissed her cheek, lifted the sleeping child, and with all the awe, and + nearly all the tremulous joy of first motherhood, bore him to her husband. + The throes of the earthquake had slain the parents, and given the child + into their arms. Without look of consultation, mark of difference, or sign + of agreement, they turned in silence and left the terrible church, with + the clear summer sky looking in upon its dead. + </p> + <p> + As they passed the door, the sun met them shining with all his might. The + sea, far away across the tops of hills and the clefts of valleys, lay + basking in his glory. The hot air quivered all over the wide landscape. + From the flight of steps in front of the church they looked down on the + streets of the town, and beyond them into space. It looked the best of all + possible worlds—as neither plague, famine, pestilence, earthquakes, + nor human wrongs, persuade me it is not, judged by the high intent of its + existence. When a man knows that intent, as I dare to think I do, <i>then</i> + let him say, and not till then, whether it be a good world or not. That in + the midst of the splendour of the sunny day, in the midst of olives and + oranges, grapes and figs, ripening swiftly by the fervour of the + circumambient air, should lie that charnel-church, is a terrible fact, + neither to be ignored, nor to be explained by the paltry theory of the + greatest good to the greatest number; but the end of the maker's dream is + not this. + </p> + <p> + When they turned into the street that led to the gate, they found the + donkeys standing where they had left them. Their owner was not with them. + He had gone into the church with the rest, and was killed. When they + caught sight of the patient, dejected animals, unheeded and unheeding, + then first they spoke, whispering in the awful stillness of the world: + they must take the creatures, and make the best of their way back without + a guide! They judged that, as the road was chiefly down hill, and the + donkeys would be going home, they would not have much difficulty with + them. At the worst, short and stout as they were, they were not bad + walkers, and felt more than equal to carrying the child between them. Not + a person was in the street when they mounted; almost all were in the + church, at its strange, terrible service. Mrs. Porson mounted the + strongest of the animals, her husband placed the sleeping child in her + arms, and they started, he on foot by the side of his wife, and his donkey + following. No one saw them pass through the gate of the town. + </p> + <p> + They were not sure of the way, for they had been partly asleep as they + came, but so long as they went downward, and did not leave the road, they + could hardly go wrong! The child slept all the way. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0004" id="link2HCH0004"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter IV. The new family. + </h2> + <p> + How shall a man describe what passed in the mind of a childless wife, with + a motherless boy in her arms! It is the loveliest provision, doubtless, + that every child should have a mother of his own; but there is a + mother-love—which I had almost called more divine—the love, + namely, that a woman bears to a child because he is a child, regardless of + whether he be her own or another's. It is that they may learn to love + thus, that women have children. Some women love so without having any. No + conceivable treasure of the world could have once entered into comparison + with the burden of richness Mrs. Porson bore. She told afterward, with + voice hushed by fear of irreverence, how, as they went down one of the + hills, she slept for a moment, and dreamed that she was Mary with the holy + thing in her arms, fleeing to Egypt on the ass, with Joseph, her husband, + walking by her side. For years and years they had been longing for a child—and + here lay the divinest little one, with every mark of the kingdom upon him! + His father and mother lying crushed under the fallen dome of that fearful + church, was it strange he should seem to belong to her? + </p> + <p> + But there might be some one somewhere in the world with a better claim; + possibly—horrible thought!—with more need of him than she! Up + started a hideous cupidity, a fierce temptation to dishonesty, such as she + had never imagined. We do not know what is in us until the temptation + comes. Then there is the devil to fight. And Mrs. Porson fought him. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Porson was, in a milder degree, affected much as his wife. He could + not help wishing, nor was he wrong in wishing, that, since the child's + father and mother were gone, they might take their place, and love their + orphan. They were far from rich, but what was one child! They might surely + manage to give him a good education, and set him doing for himself! But, + alas, there might be others—others with love-property in the child! + The same thoughts were working in each, but neither dared utter them in + the presence of the sleeping treasure. + </p> + <p> + As they descended the last slope above the town, with the wide sea-horizon + before them, they beheld such a glory of after-sunset as, even on that + coast, was unusual. A chord of colour that might have been the prostrate + fragment of a gigantic rainbow, lay along a large arc of the horizon. The + farther portion of the sea was an indigo blue, save for a grayish line + that parted it from the dusky red of the sky. This red faded up through + orange and dingy yellow to a pale green and pale blue, above which came + the depth of the blue night, in which rayed resplendent the evening star. + Below the star and nearer to the west, lay, very thin and very long, the + sickle of the new moon. If death be what it looks to the unthinking soul, + and if the heavens declare the glory of God, as they do indeed to the + heart that knows him, then is there discord between heaven and earth such + as no argument can harmonize. But death is not what men think it, for + “Blessed are they that mourn for the dead.” + </p> + <p> + The sight enhanced the wonder and hope of the two honest good souls in the + treasure they carried. Out of the bosom of the skeleton Death himself, had + been given them—into their very arms—a germ of life, a jewel + of heaven! At the thought of what lay up the hill behind them, they felt + their joy in the child almost wicked; but if God had taken the child's + father and mother, might they not be glad in the hope that he had chosen + them to replace them? That he had for the moment at least, they were bound + to believe! + </p> + <p> + They travelled slowly on, through the dying sunset, and an hour or two of + the star-bright night that followed, adorned rather than lighted by the + quaint boat of the crescent moon. Weary, but lapt in a voiceless triumph, + they came at last, guided by the donkeys, to their hotel. + </p> + <p> + All were talking of the earthquake. A great part of the English had fled + in a panic terror, like sheep that had no shepherd—hunted by their + own fears, and betrayed by their imagined faith. The steadiest church-goer + fled like the infidel he reviled. The fool said in his heart, “There is no + God,” and fled. The Christian said with his mouth, “Verily there is a God + that ruleth in the earth!” and fled—far as he could from the place + which, as he fancied, had shown signs of a special presence of the father + of Jesus Christ. + </p> + <p> + After the Persons were in the house, there came two or three small shocks. + Every time, out with a cry rushed the inhabitants into the streets; every + time, out into the garden of the hotel swarmed such as were left in it of + Germans and English. But our little couple, who had that day seen so much + more of its terrors than any one else in the place, and whose chamber was + at the top of the house where the swaying was worst, were too much + absorbed in watching and tending their lovely boy to heed the earthquake. + Perhaps their hearts whispered, “Can that which has given us such a gift + be unfriendly?” + </p> + <p> + “If his father and mother,” said Mrs. Person, as they stood regarding him, + “are permitted to see their child, they shall see how we love him, and be + willing he should love us!” + </p> + <p> + As they went up the stairs with him, the boy woke When he looked and saw a + face that was not his mother's, a cloud swept across the heaven of his + eyes. He closed them again, and did not speak. The first of the shocks + came as they were putting him to bed: he turned very white and looked up + fixedly, as if waiting another fall from above, but sat motionless on his + new mother's lap. The instant the vibration and rocking ceased, he drank + from the cup of milk she offered him, as quietly as if but a distant + thunder had rolled away. When she put him in the bed, he looked at her + with such an indescribable expression of bewildered loss, that she burst + into tears. The child did not cry. He had not cried since they took him. + The woman's heart was like to break for him, but she managed to say, + </p> + <p> + “God has taken her, my darling. He is keeping her for you, and I am going + to keep you for her;” and with that she kissed him. + </p> + <p> + The same moment came the second shock. + </p> + <p> + Need wakes prophecy: the need of the child made of the parson a prophet. + </p> + <p> + “It is God that does the shaking,” he said. “It's all right. Nobody will + be the worse—not much, at least!” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all,” rejoined the boy, and turned his face away. + </p> + <p> + From the lips of such a tiny child, the words seemed almost awful. + </p> + <p> + He fell fast asleep, and never woke till the morning. Mrs. Porson lay + beside him, yielding him, stout as she was, a good half of the little + Italian bed. She scarcely slept for excitement and fear of smothering him. + </p> + <p> + The Persons were honest people, and for all their desire to possess the + child, made no secret of how and where they had found him, or of as much + of his name as he could tell them, which was only <i>Clare</i>. But they + never heard of inquiry after him. On the gunboat at Genoa they knew + nothing of their commander's purposes, or where to seek him. Days passed + before they began to be uneasy about him, and when they did make what + search for him they could, it was fruitless. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0005" id="link2HCH0005"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter V. His new home. + </h2> + <p> + The place to which the good people carried the gift of the earthquake—carried + him with much anxiety and more exultation—had no very distinctive + features. It had many fields in grass, many in crop, and some lying fallow—all + softly undulating. It had some trees, and everywhere hedges dividing + fields whose strange shapes witnessed to a complicated history, of which + few could tell anything. Here and there in the hollows between the + motionless earth-billows, flowed, but did not seem to flow, what they + called a brook. But the brooks there were like deep soundless pools + without beginning or end. There was no life, no gaiety, no song in them, + only a sullen consent to exist. That at least is how they impress one + accustomed to real brooks, lark-like, always on the quiver, always on the + move, always babbling and gabbling and gamboling, always at their games, + always tossing their pebbles about, and telling them to talk. A man that + loved them might say there was more in the silence of these, than in the + speech of those; but what silence can be better than a song of delight + that we are, that we were, that we are to be! The stillness may be full of + solemn fish, mysterious as itself, and deaf with secrets; but blessed is + the brook that lets the light of its joy shine. + </p> + <p> + Dull as the place must seem in this my description, it was the very + country for the boy. He would come into more contact with its modest + beauty in a day than some of us would in a year. Nobody quite knows the + beauty of a country, especially of a quiet country, except one who has + been born in it, or for whom at least childhood and boyhood and youth have + opened door after door into the hidden phases of its life. There is no + square yard on the face of the earth but some one can in part understand + what God meant in making it; while the same changeful skies canopy the + most picturesque and the dullest landscapes; the same winds wake and blow + over desert and pasture land, making the bosoms of youth and age swell + with the delight of their blowing. The winds are not all so full as are + some of delicious odours gathered as they pass from gardens, fields, and + hill-sides; but all have their burden of sweetness. Those that blew upon + little Clare were oftener filled with the smell of farmyards, and burning + weeds, and cottage-fires, than of flowers; but never would one of such + odours revisit him without bringing fresh delight to his heart. Its mere + memorial suggestion far out on the great sea would wake the old child in + the man. The pollards along the brooks grew lovely to his heart, and were + not the less lovely when he came to understand that they were not so + lovely as God had meant them to be. He was one of those who, regarding + what a thing <i>is</i>, and not comparing it with other things, descry the + thought of God in it, and love it; for to love what is beautiful is as + natural as to love our mothers. + </p> + <p> + The parsonage to which his new father and mother brought him was like the + landscape—humble. It was humble even for a parsonage—which has + no occasion to be fine. For men and women whose business it is to teach + their fellows to be true and fair, and not covet fine things, are but + hypocrites, or at best intruders and humbugs, if they want fine things + themselves. Jesus Christ did not care about fine things. He loved every + lovely thing that ever his father made. If any one does not know the + difference between fine things and lovely things, he does not know much, + if he has all the science in the world at his finger-ends. + </p> + <p> + One good thing about the parsonage was, that it was aid, and the swallows + had loved it for centuries. That way Clare learned to love the swallows—and + they are worth loving. Then it had a very old garden, nearly as + old-fashioned as it was old, and many flowers that have almost ceased to + be seen grew in it, and did not enjoy their lives the less that they were + out of fashion. All the furniture in the house was old, and mostly shabby; + it was possible, therefore, to love it a little. Who on earth could be + such a fool as to love a new piece of furniture! One might prize it; one + might admire it; one might like it because it was pretty, or because it + was comfortable; but only a silly woman whose soul went to bed on her new + sideboard, could say she loved it. And then it would not be true. It is + impossible that any but an <i>old</i> piece of furniture should be loved. + </p> + <p> + His father and mother had a charming little room made for him in the + garret, right up among the swallows, who soon admitted him a member of + their society—an honorary member, that is, who was not expected to + fly with them to Africa except he liked. His new parents did this because + they saw that, when he could not be with them, he preferred being by + himself; and that moods came upon him in which he would steal away even + from them, seized with a longing for loneliness. In general, next to being + with his mother anywhere, he liked to be with his father in the study. If + both went out, and could not take him with them, he would either go to his + own room, or sit in the study alone. It was a very untidy room, crowded + with books, mostly old and dingy, and in torn bindings. Many of them their + owner never opened, and they suffered in consequence; a few of them were + constantly in his hands, and suffered in consequence. All smelt strong of + stale tobacco, but that hardly accounts for the fact that Clare never took + to smoking. Another thing perhaps does—that he was always too much + of a man to want to look like a man by imitating men. That is unmanly. A + boy who wants to look like a man is not a manly boy, and men do not care + for his company. A true boy is always welcome to a true man, but a + would-be man is better on the other side of the wall. + </p> + <p> + His mother oftenest sat in a tiny little drawing-room, which smelt of + withered rose-leaves. I think it must smell of them still. I believe it + smelt of them a hundred years before she saw the place. Clare loved the + smell of the rose-leaves and disliked the smell of the tobacco; yet he + preferred the study with its dingy books to the pretty drawing-room + without his mother. + </p> + <p> + There was a village, a very small one, in the parish, and a good many + farm-houses. + </p> + <p> + Such was the place in which Clare spent the next few years of his life, + and there his new parents loved him heartily. The only thing about him + that troubled them, besides the possibility of losing him, was, that they + could not draw out the tiniest smile upon his sweet, moonlight-face. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0006" id="link2HCH0006"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter VI. What did draw out his first smile. + </h2> + <p> + Mr. Porson was a man about five and forty; his wife was a few years + younger. His theories of religion were neither large nor lofty; he + accepted those that were handed down to him, and did not trouble himself + as to whether they were correct. He did what was better: he tried + constantly to obey the law of God, whether he found it in the Bible or in + his own heart. Thus he was greater in the kingdom of heaven than thousands + that knew more, had better theories about God, and could talk much more + fluently concerning religion than he. By obeying God he let God teach him. + So his heart was always growing; and where the heart grows, there is no + fear of the intellect; there it also grows, and in the best fashion of + growth. He was very good to his people, and not foolishly kind. He tried + his best to help them to be what they ought to be, to make them bear their + troubles, be true to one another, and govern themselves. He was like a + father to them. For some, of course, he could do but little, because they + were locked boxes with nothing in them; but for a few he did much. Perhaps + it was because he was so good to his flock that God gave him little Clare + to bring up. Perhaps it was because he and his wife were so good to Clare, + that by and by a wonderful thing took place. + </p> + <p> + About three years after the earthquake, Mrs. Porson had a baby-girl sent + her for her very own. The father and mother thought themselves the + happiest couple on the face of the earth—and who knows but they + were! If they were not, so much the better! for then, happy as they were, + there were happier yet than they; and who, in his greatest happiness, + would not be happier still to know that the earth held happier than he! + </p> + <p> + When Clare first saw the baby, he looked down on her with solemn, unmoved + countenance, and gazed changeless for a whole minute. He thought there had + been another earthquake, that another church-dome had fallen, and another + child been found and brought home from the ruin. Then light began to grow + somewhere under his face. His mother, full as was her heart of her new + child, watched his countenance anxiously. The light under his face grew + and grew, till his face was radiant. Then out of the midst of the shining + broke the heavenliest smile she had ever seen on human countenance—a + smile that was a clearer revelation of God than ten thousand books about + him. For what must not that God be, who had made the boy that smiled such + a smile and never knew it! After this he smiled occasionally, though it + was but seldom. He never laughed—that is, not until years after this + time; but, on the other hand, he never looked sullen. A quiet peace, like + the stillness of a long summer twilight in the north, dwelt upon his + visage, and appeared to model his every motion. Part of his life seemed + away, and he waiting for it to come back. Then he would be merry! + </p> + <p> + He was never in a hurry, yet always doing something—always, that is, + when he was not in his own room. There his mother would sometimes find him + sitting absolutely still, with his hands on his knees. Nor was she sorry + to surprise him thus, for then she was sure of one of his rare smiles. She + thought he must then be dreaming of his own mother, and a pang would go + through her at the thought that he would one day love her more than + herself. “He will laugh then!” she said. She did not think how the + gratitude of that mother would one day overwhelm her with gladness. + </p> + <p> + He never sought to be caressed, but always snuggled to one that drew him + close. Never once did he push any one away. He learned what lessons were + set him—not very fast, but with persistent endeavour to understand. + He was greatly given to reading, but not particularly quick. He thus + escaped much, fancying that he knew when he did not know—a quicksand + into which fall so many clever boys and girls. Give me a slow, steady boy, + who knows when he does not know a thing! To know that you do not know, is + to be a small prophet. Such a boy has a glimmer of the something he does + not know, or at least of the place where it is; while the boy who easily + grasps the words that stand for a thing, is apt to think he knows the + thing itself when he sees but the wrapper of it—thinks he knows the + church when he has caught sight of the weather-cock. Mrs. Porson could see + the understanding of a thing gradually burst into blossom on the boy's + face. It did not smile, it only shone. Understanding is light; it needs + love to change light into a smile. + </p> + <p> + There was something in the boy that his parents hardly hoped to + understand; something in his face that made them long to know what was + going on in him, but made them doubt if ever in this life they should. He + was not concealing anything from them. He did not know that he had + anything to tell, or that they wanted to know anything. He never doubted + that everybody saw him just as he felt himself; his soul seemed bare to + all the world. But he knew little of what was passing in him: child or man + never knows more than a small part of that. + </p> + <p> + When first he was allowed to take the little one in his arms, he sitting + on a stool at his mother's feet, it was almost a new start in his + existence. A new confidence was born in his spirit. Mrs. Person could + read, as if reflected in his countenance, the pride and tenderness that + composed so much of her own conscious motherhood. A certain staidness, + almost sternness, took possession of his face as he bent over the helpless + creature, half on his knees, half in his arms—the sternness of a + protecting divinity that knew danger not afar. He had taken a step upward + in being; he was aware in himself, without knowing it, of the dignity of + fatherhood. Even now he knew what so many seem never to learn, that a man + is the defender of the weak; that, if a man is his brother's keeper, still + more is he his sister's. She belonged to him, therefore he was hers in the + slavery of love, which alone is freedom. So reverential and so careful did + he show himself, that soon his mother trusted him, to the extent of his + power, more than any nurse. + </p> + <p> + By and by she made the delightful discovery that, when he was alone with + the baby, the silent boy could talk. Where was no need or hope of being + understood, his words began to flow—with a rhythmical cadence that + seemed ever on the verge of verse. When first his mother heard the sweet + murmur of his voice, she listened; and then first she learned what a hold + the terrible thing that had given him into her arms had upon him. For she + heard him half singing, half saying— + </p> + <p> + “Baby, baby, do not grow. Keep small, and lie on my lap, and dream of + walking, but never walk; for when you walk you will run, and when you run + you will go away with father and mother—away to a big place where + the ground goes up to the sky; and you will go up the ground that goes up + to the sky, and you will come to a big church, and you will go into the + church; and the ground and the church and the sky will go <i>hurr, hurr, + hurr</i>; and the sky, full of angels, will come down with a great roar; + and all the yards and sails will drop out of the sky, and tumble down + father and mother, and hold them down that they cannot get up again; and + then you will have nobody but me. I will do all I can, but I am only + brother Clare, and you will want, want, want mother and father, mother and + father, and they will be always coming, and never be come, not for ever so + long! Don't grow a big girl, Maly!” + </p> + <p> + The mother could not think what to say. She went in, and, in the hope of + turning his thoughts aside, took the baby, and made haste to consult her + husband. + </p> + <p> + “We must leave it,” said Mr. Person. “Experience will soon correct what + mistake is in his notion. It is not so very far wrong. You and I must go + from them one day: what is it but that the sky will fall down on us, and + our bodies will get up no more! He thinks the time nearer at hand than for + their sakes I hope it is; but nobody can tell.” + </p> + <p> + Clare never associated the church where the awful thing took place, with + the church to which he went on Sundays. The time for it, he imagined, came + to everybody. To Clare, nothing ever <i>happened</i>. The way out of the + world was a church in a city set on a hill, and there an earthquake was + always ready. + </p> + <p> + The heart of his adoptive mother grew yet more tender toward him after the + coming of her own child. She was not quite sure that she did not love him + even more than Mary. She could not help the feeling that he was a child of + heaven sent out to nurse on the earth; and that it was in reward for her + care of him that her own darling was sent her. That their love to the boy + had something to do with the coming of the girl, I believe myself, though + what that something was, I do not precisely understand. + </p> + <p> + She left him less often alone with the child. She would not have his + thoughts drawn to the church of the earthquake; neither would she have the + mournfulness of his sweet voice much in the ears of her baby. He never + sang in a minor key when any one was by, but always and solely when the + baby and he were alone together. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0007" id="link2HCH0007"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter VII. Clare and his brothers. + </h2> + <p> + After a year or two, Mr. Person became anxious lest the boy should grow up + too unlike other boys—lest he should not be manly, but of a too + gently sad behaviour. He began, therefore, to take him with him about the + parish, and was delighted to find him show extraordinary endurance. He + would walk many miles, and come home less fatigued than his companion. To + be sure, he had not much weight to carry; but it seemed to Mr. Porson that + his utter freedom from thought about himself had a large share in his + immunity from weariness. He continued slight and thin—which was + natural, for he was growing fast; but the muscles of his little bird-like + legs seemed of steel. The spindle-shanks went striding, striding without a + check, along the roughest roads, the pale face shining atop of them like a + sweet calm moon. To Mr. Person's eyes, the moon, stooping, as she + sometimes seems to do, downward from the sky, always looked like him. The + child woke something new in the heart and mind of every one that loved + him, but was himself unconscious of his influence. His company was no + check to his father when meditating, after his habit as he walked, what he + should say to his people the next Sunday. For the good man never wrote or + read a sermon, but talked to his people as one who would meet what was in + them with what was in him. Hence they always believed “the parson meant + it.” He never said anything clever, and never said anything unwise; never + amused them, and never made them feel scornful, either of him or of any + one else. + </p> + <p> + Instead of finding the presence of Clare distract his thoughts, he had at + times a curious sense that the boy was teaching him—that his sermon + was running before, or walking sedately on this side of him or that. For + Clare could run like the wind; and did run after butterflies, + dragon-flies, or anything that offered a chance of seeing it nearer; but + he never killed, and seldom tried to catch anything, if but for a moment's + examination. The swiftest run would scarcely heighten the colour of his + pale cheeks. + </p> + <p> + He soon came to be known in the farm-houses of the parish. The + farmer-families were a little shy of him at first, fancying him too fine a + little gentleman for them; but as they got to know him, they grew fond of + him. They called him “the parson's man,” which pleased Clare. But one old + woman called him “the parson's cherubim.” + </p> + <p> + One day Mr. Porson was calling at the house of the largest farm in the + parish, the nearest house to the parsonage. The farmer's wife was ill, and + having to go to her room to see her, he said to the boy— + </p> + <p> + “Clare, you run into the yard. Give my compliments to any one you meet, + and ask him to let you stay with him.” + </p> + <p> + When the time came for their departure, Mr. Porson went to find him. He + did not call him; he wanted to see what he was about. Unable to discover + him, and coming upon no one of whom he might inquire, for it was hay-time + and everybody in the fields, he was at last driven to use his voice. + </p> + <p> + He had not to call twice. Out of the covered part of the pigsty, not far + from which the parson stood, the boy came creeping on all fours, followed + by a litter of half-grown, grunting, gamboling pigs. + </p> + <p> + “Here I am, papa!” he cried. + </p> + <p> + “Clare,” exclaimed his father, “what a mess you have made of yourself!” + </p> + <p> + “I gave them your compliments,” answered the boy, as he scrambled over the + fence with his father's assistance, “and asked them if I might stay with + them till you were ready. They said yes, and invited me in. I went in; and + we've been having such games! They were very kind to me.” + </p> + <p> + His father turned involuntarily and looked into the sty. There stood all + the pigs in a row, gazing after the boy, and looking as sorry as their + thick skins and bony snouts would let them. Their mother rose in a ridge + behind them, gazing too. Mr. Skymer always spoke of pigs as about the most + intelligent animals in the world. + </p> + <p> + I do not know when or where or how his love of the animals began, for he + could not tell me. If it began with the pigs, it was far from ending with + them. + </p> + <p> + The next day he asked his father if he might go and call upon the pigs. + </p> + <p> + “Have you forgotten, Clare,” said his mother, “what a job Susan and I had + with your clothes? I wonder still how you could have done such a thing! + They were quite filthy. When I saw you, I had half a mind to put you in a + bath, clothes and all. I doubt if they are sweet yet!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, they are, indeed, mamma!” returned Clare; “and you know I shall + be careful after this! I shall not go into their house, but get the farmer + to let them out. I've thought of a new game with them!” + </p> + <p> + His mother consented; the farmer did let the pigs out; and Clare and they + had a right good game together among the ricks in the yard. + </p> + <p> + His growing nature showed itself in a swiftly widening friendship for live + things. The spreading ripples of his affection took in the cows and the + horses, the hens and the geese, and every creature about the place, till + at length it had to pull up at the moles, because he could not get at + them. I doubt if he would have liked them if he had seen one eat a frog! + He called the pigs little brothers, and the horses and cows big brothers, + and was perfectly at home with them before people knew he cared for their + company. I think his absolute simplicity brought him near to the fountain + of life, or rather, prevented him from straying from it; and this kept him + so alive himself, that he was delicately sensitive to all life. He felt + himself pledged to all other life as being one with it. Its forms were + therefore so open to him as to seem familiar from the first. He knew + instinctively what went on in regions of life differing from his own—knew, + without knowing how, what the animals were thinking and feeling; so was + able to interpret their motions, even the sudden changes in their + behaviour. + </p> + <p> + There was one dangerous animal on the place—a bull, of which the + farmer had often said he must part with him, or he would be the death of + somebody. One morning he was struck with terror to find Clare in the stall + with Nimrod. The brute was chained up pretty short, but was free enough + for terrible mischief: Clare was stroking his nose, and the beast was + standing as still as a bull of bronze, with one curved and one sharp, + forward-set, wicked-looking horn in alarming proximity to the angelic + face. The farmer stood in dismay, still as the bull, afraid to move. Clare + looked up and smiled, but his delicate little hand went on caressing the + huge head. It was one of God's small high creatures visiting with good + news of hope one of his big low creatures—a little brother of Jesus + Christ bringing a taste of his father's kingdom to his great dull bull of + a brother. The farmer called him. The boy came at once. Mr. Goodenough + told him he must not go near the bull; he was fierce and dangerous. Clare + informed him that he and the bull had been friends for a long time; and to + prove it ran back, and before the farmer could lay hold of him, was + perched on the animal's shoulders. The bull went on eating the grass in + the manger before him, and took as little heed of the boy as if it were + but a fly that had lighted on him, and neither tickled nor stung him. + </p> + <p> + By degrees he grew familiar with all the goings on at the farm, and drew + nearer to a true relation with the earth that nourishes all. Where the + soil was not too heavy, the ploughman would set him on the back of the + near horse, and there he would ride in triumph to the music of the + ploughman's whistle behind. His was not the pomp of the destroyer who + rides trampling, but the pomp of the saviour drawing forth life from the + earth. In the summer the hayfield knew him, and in the autumn the + harvest-field, where busily he gathered what the earth gave, and for + himself strength, a sense of wide life and large relations. The very + mould, not to say the grass-blades and the daisies, was dear to him. He + was more sympathetic with the daisies ploughed down than was even Burns, + for he had a strong feeling that they went somewhere, and were the better + for going; that this was the way their sky fell upon them. + </p> + <p> + All the people on the farm, all the people of the village, every one in + the parish knew the boy and his story. From his gentleness and + lovingkindness to live things, there were who said he was half-witted; + others said he saw ghosts. The boys of the village despised, and some + hated him, because he was so unlike them. They called him a girl because + where they tormented he caressed. At this he would smile, and they durst + not lay hands on him. + </p> + <p> + The days are long in boyhood, and Clare could do a many things in one. + There was the morning, the forenoon, and the long afternoon and evening! + He could help on the farm; he could play with ever so many animals; he + could learn his lessons, which happily were not heavy; he could read any + book he pleased in his father's library, where <i>Paradise Lost</i> was + his favourite; he could nurse little Maly. He had the more time for all + these that he had no companion of his own age, no one he wanted to go + about with after school-hours. His father was still his chief human + companion, and neither of them grew tired of the other. + </p> + <p> + The most remarkable thing in the child was the calm and gentle greatness + of his heart. You often find children very fond of one or two people, who, + perhaps, in evil return, want to keep them all to themselves, and reproach + them for loving others. Many persons count it a sign of depth in a child + that he loves only one or two. I doubt it greatly. I think that only the + child who loves all life can love right well, can love deeply and strongly + and tenderly the lives that come nearest him. Low nurses and small-hearted + mothers dwarf and pervert their children, doing their worst to keep them + from having big hearts like God. Clare had other teaching than this. He + had lost his father and mother, but many were given him to love; and so he + was helped to wait patiently till he found them again. God was keeping + them for him somewhere, and keeping him for them here. + </p> + <p> + The good for which we are born into this world is, that we may learn to + love. I think Clare the most enviable of boys, because he loved more than + any one of his age I have heard of. There are people—oh, such silly + people they are!—though they may sometimes be pleasing—who are + always wanting people to love them. They think so much of themselves, that + they want to think more; and to know that people love them makes them able + to think more of themselves. They even think themselves loving because + they are fond of being loved! You might as soon say because a man loves + money he is generous; because he loves to gather, therefore he knows how + to scatter; because he likes to read a story, therefore he can write one. + Such lovers are only selfish in a deeper way, and are more to blame than + other selfish people; for, loving to be loved, they ought the better to + know what an evil thing it is not to love; what a mean thing to accept + what they are not willing to give. Even to love only those that love us, + is, as the Lord has taught us, but a pinched and sneaking way of loving. + Clare never thought about being loved. He was too busy loving, with so + many about him to love, to think of himself. He was not the contemptible + little wretch to say, “What a fine boy I am, to make everybody love me!” + If he had been capable of that, not many would have loved him; and those + that did would most of them have got tired of loving a thing that did not + love again. Only great lovers like God are able to do that, and they help + God to make love grow. But there is little truth in love where there is no + wisdom in it. Clare's father and mother were wise, and did what they could + to make Clare wise. + </p> + <p> + Also the animals, though they were not aware of it, did much to save him + from being spoiled by the humans whom the boy loved more than them. For + Clare's charity began at home. Those who love their own people will love + other people. Those who do not love children will never love animals + right. + </p> + <p> + Here I will set down a strange thing that befell Clare, and caused him a + sore heart, making him feel like a traitor to the whole animal race, and + influencing his life for ever. I was at first puzzled to account for the + thing without attributing more imagination to the animals—or some of + them—than I had been prepared to do; but probably the main factor in + it was heart-disease. + </p> + <p> + He had seen men go out shooting, but had never accompanied any killers. I + do not quite understand how, as in my story, he came even to imitate using + a gun. There was nothing in him that belonged to killing; and that is more + than I could say for myself, or any other man I know except Clare Skymer. + </p> + <p> + He was at the bottom of the garden one afternoon, where nothing but a low + hedge came between him and a field of long grass. He had in his hand the + stick of a worn-out umbrella. Suddenly a half-grown rabbit rose in the + grass before him, and bolted. From sheer unconscious imitation, I believe, + he raised the stick to his shoulder, and said <i>Bang</i>. The rabbit gave + a great bound into the air, fell, and lay motionless. With far other + feelings than those of a sportsman, Clare ran, got through the hedge, and + approached the rabbit trembling. He could think nothing but that the + creature was playing him a trick. Yet he was frightened. Only how could he + have hurt him! + </p> + <p> + “I dare say the little one knows me,” he said to himself, “and wanted to + give me a start! He couldn't tell what a start it would be, or he wouldn't + have done it.” + </p> + <p> + When he drew near, however, “the little one” did not, as he had hoped and + expected, jump up and run again. With sinking heart Clare went close up, + and looked down on it. It lay stretched out, motionless. With death in his + own bosom he stooped and tenderly lifted it. The rabbit was stone-dead! + The poor boy gazed at it, pressed it tenderly to his heart, and went with + it to find his mother. The tears kept pouring down his face, but he + uttered no cry till he came to her. Then a low groaning howl burst from + him; he laid the dead thing in her lap, and threw himself on the floor at + her feet in an abandonment of self-accusation and despair. + </p> + <p> + It was long before he was able to give her an intelligible account of what + had taken place. She asked him if he had found it dead. In answer he could + only shake his head, but that head-shake had a whole tragedy in it. Then + she examined “the little one,” but could find no mark of any wound upon + it. When at length she learned how the case was, she tried to comfort him, + insisting he was not to blame, for he did not mean to kill the little one. + He would not hearken to her loving sophistry. + </p> + <p> + “No, mother!” he said through his sobs; “I wouldn't have blamed myself, + though I should have been very sorry, if I had killed him by accident—if + I had stepped upon him, or anything of that kind; but I meant to frighten + him! I looked bad at him! I made him think I was an enemy, and going to + kill him! I shammed bad—and so was real bad.” + </p> + <p> + He stopped with a most wailful howl. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps he knew me,” he resumed, “and couldn't understand it. It was much + worse than if I had shot him. He wouldn't have known then till he was + dead. But to die of terror was horrible. Oh, why didn't I think what I was + doing?” + </p> + <p> + “Nobody could have thought of such a thing happening.” + </p> + <p> + “No; but I ought to have thought, mother, of what I was doing. I was + trying to frighten him! I must have been in a cruel mood. Why didn't I + think love to the little one when I saw him, instead of thinking death to + him? I shall never look a rabbit in the face again! My heart must have + grown black, mother!” + </p> + <p> + “I don't believe there is another rabbit in England would die from such a + cause,” persisted his mother thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + “Then what a superior rabbit he must have been!” said Clare. “To think + that I pulled down the roof of his church upon him!” + </p> + <p> + He burst into a torrent of tears, and ran to his own room. There his + mother thought it better to leave him undisturbed. She wisely judged that + a mind of such sensibility was alone capable of finding the comfort to fit + its need. + </p> + <p> + Such comfort he doubtless did find, for by the time his mother called him + to tea, calmness had taken the place of the agony on his countenance. His + mother asked him no questions, for she as well as her husband feared any + possible encouragement to self-consciousness. I imagine the boy had + reflected that things could not go so wrong that nobody could set them + right. I imagine he thought that, if he had done the rabbit a wrong, as he + never for a moment to the end of his life doubted he had, he who is at the + head of all heads and the heart of all hearts, would contrive to let him + tell the rabbit he was sorry, and would give him something to do for the + rabbit that would make up for his cruelty to him. He did once say to his + mother, and neither of them again alluded to the matter, that he was sure + the rabbit had forgiven him. + </p> + <p> + “Little ones are <i>so</i> forgiving, you know, mother!” he added. + </p> + <p> + Is it any wonder that my friend Clare Skymer should have been no + sportsman? + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0008" id="link2HCH0008"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter VIII. Clare and his human brothers + </h2> + <p> + Another anecdote of him, that has no furtherance of the story in it, I + must yet tell. + </p> + <p> + One cold day in a stormy March, the wind was wildly blowing broken clouds + across the heavens, and now rain, now sleet, over the shivering blades of + the young corn, whose tender green was just tinging the dark brown earth. + The fields were now dark and wintry, heartless and cold; now shining all + over as with repentant tears; one moment refusing to be comforted, and the + next reviving with hope and a sense of new life. Clare was hovering about + the plough. Suddenly he spied, from a mound in the field, a little + procession passing along the highway. Those in front carried something on + their shoulders which must be heavy, for it took six of them to carry it. + He knew it was a coffin, for his home was by the churchyard, and a funeral + was no unfamiliar sight. Behind it one man walked alone. For a moment + Clare watched him, and saw his bowed head and heavy pace. His heart filled + from its own perennial fount of pity, which was God himself in him. He ran + down the hill and across the next field, making for a spot some distance + ahead of the procession. As it passed him, he joined the chief mourner, + who went plodding on with his arms hanging by his sides. Creeping close up + to him, he slid his little soft hand into the great horny hand of the + peasant. Instinctively the big hand closed upon the small one, and the + weather-beaten face of a man of fifty looked down on the boy. Not a word + was said between them. They walked on, hand in hand. + </p> + <p> + Neither had ever seen the other. The man was following his wife and his + one child to the grave. “Nothing almost sees miracles but misery,” says + Kent in <i>King Lear</i>. Because this man was miserable, he saw a miracle + where was no miracle, only something very good. The thing was true and + precious, yea, a message from heaven. Those deep, upturned, silent eyes; + the profound, divine sympathy that shone in them; the grasp of the tiny + hand upon his large fingers, made the heart of the man, who happened to be + a catholic, imagine, and for a few moments believe, that he held the hand + of the infant Saviour. The cloud lifted from his heart and brain, and did + not return when he came to understand that this was not <i>the</i> lamb of + God, only another lamb from the same fold. + </p> + <p> + When they had walked about two miles, the boy began to fear he might be + intruding, and would have taken his hand from the other, but the man held + it tight, and stooping whispered it was not far now. The child, who, + without knowing it, had taken the man under the protection of his love, + yielded at once, went with him to the grave, joined in the service, and + saw the grave filled. They went again as they had come. Not a word was + spoken. The man wept a little now and then, drew the back of his brown + hand across his eyes, and pressed a little closer the hand he held. At the + gate of the parsonage the boy took his leave. He said they would be + wondering what had become of him, or he would have gone farther. The man + released him without a word. + </p> + <p> + His mother had been uneasy about him, but when he told her how it was, she + said he had done right. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” returned the boy; “I belong there myself.” + </p> + <p> + The mother knew he was not thinking of the grave. + </p> + <p> + One more anecdote I will give, serving to introduce the narrative of the + following chapter, and helping to show the character of the boy. He was so + unlike most boys, that one must know all he may about him, if he would + understand him. + </p> + <p> + Never yet, strange as the assertion must seem, had the boy shown any + anger. His father was a little troubled at the fact, fearing such absence + of resentment might indicate moral indifference, or, if not, might yet + render him incapable of coping with the world. He had himself been brought + up at a public school, and had not, with all his experience of life, come + to see, any more than most of the readers of this story now see, or for a + long time will see, that there lies no nobility, no dignity in evil retort + of any kind; that evil is evil when returned as much as when given; that + the only shining thing is good—and the most shining, good for evil. + </p> + <p> + One day a coarse boy in the village gave him a sharp blow on the face. It + forced water from his eyes and blood from his nose. He was wiping away + both at once with his handkerchief, when a kindly girl stopped and said to + him— + </p> + <p> + “Never mind; don't cry.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no!” answered Clare; “it's only water, it's not crying. It would be + cowardly to cry.” + </p> + <p> + “That's a brave boy! You'll give it him back one of these days.” + </p> + <p> + “No,” he returned, “I shall not I couldn't.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Because it hurts so. My nose feels as if it were broken. I know it's not + broken, but it feels like it.” + </p> + <p> + The girl, as well as the boys who stood around him, burst into laughter. + They saw no logic in his reasoning. Clare's was the divine reasoning that + comes of loving your neighbour; theirs was the earthly reasoning that came + of loving themselves. They did not see that to Clare another boy was + another of himself; that he was carrying out the design of the Father of + men, that his creatures should come together into one, not push each other + away. + </p> + <p> + The next time he met the boy who struck him, so far was he both from + resentment and from the fear of being misunderstood, that he offered him a + rosy-cheeked apple his mother had given him as he left for school. The boy + was tyrant and sneak together—a combination to be seen sometimes in + a working man set over his fellows, and in a rich man grown poor, and bent + upon making money again. The boy took the apple, never doubted Clare gave + it him to curry favour, ate it up grinning, and threw the core in his + face. Clare turned away with a sigh, and betook himself to his + handkerchief again, The boy burst into a guffaw of hideous laughter. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0009" id="link2HCH0009"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter IX. Clare the defender. + </h2> + <p> + This enemy was a trouble, more or less, to every decent person in the + neighbourhood. It was well his mother was a widow, for where she was only + powerless to restrain, the father would have encouraged. He was a big, + idle, sneering, insolent lad—such that had there been two more of + the sort, they would have made the village uninhabitable. It was all the + peaceable vicar could do to keep his hands off him. + </p> + <p> + One day, little Mary being then about five years old, Clare had her out + for a walk. They were alone in a narrow lane, not far from the farm where + Clare was so much at home. To his consternation, for he had his sister in + charge, down the lane, meeting them, came the village tyrant. He strolled + up with his hands in his pockets, and barred their way. But while, his eye + chiefly on Clare, he “straddled” like Apollyon, but not “quite over the + whole breadth of the way,” Mary slipped past him. The young brute darted + after the child. Clare put down his head, as he had seen the rams do, and + as Simpson, who ill deserved the name of the generous Jewish Hercules, was + on the point of laying hold of her, caught him in the flank, butted him + into the ditch, and fell on the top of him. + </p> + <p> + “Run, Maly!” he cried; “I'll be after you in a moment.” + </p> + <p> + “Will you, you little devil!” cried the bully; and taking him by the + throat, so that he could not utter even a gurgle, got up and began to beat + him unmercifully. But the sounds of their conflict had reached the ears of + the bull Nimrod, who was feeding within the hedge. He recognized Clare's + voice, perhaps knew from it that he was in trouble; but I am inclined to + think pure bull-love of a row would alone have sent him tearing to the + quarter whence the tyrant's brutal bellowing still came. There, looking + over the hedge, he saw his friend in the clutches of an enemy of his own, + for Simpson never lost a chance of teasing Nimrod when he could do so with + safety. Over he came with a short roar and a crash. Looking up, the bully + saw a bigger bully than himself, with his head down and horns level, + retreating a step or two in preparation for running at him. Simpson shoved + the helpless Clare toward the enemy and fled. Clare fell. Nimrod jumped + over his prostrate friend and tore after Simpson. Clare got up and would + at once have followed to protect his enemy, but that he must first see his + sister safe. He ran with her to a cottage hard by, handed her to the woman + at the door of it, and turning pursued Simpson and the bull. + </p> + <p> + Nimrod overtook his enemy in the act of scrambling over a five-barred + gate. Simpson saw the head of the bull coming down upon him like the bows + of a Dutchman upon a fishing-boat, and, paralyzed with terror, could not + move an inch further. Crash against the gate came the horns of Nimrod, + with all the weight and speed of his body behind them. Away went the gate + into the field, and away went Simpson and the bull with it, the latter + nearly breaking his neck, for his horns were entangled in the bars, one of + them by the diagonal bar. Simpson's right leg was jammed betwixt the gate + and the head and horns of the bull. He roared, and his roars maddened + Nimrod, furious already that he could not get his horns clear. Shake and + pull as he might, the gate stuck to them; and Simpson fared little the + better that the bull's quarrel was for the moment with the gate, and not + with the leg between him and it. + </p> + <p> + Clare had not seen the catastrophe, and did not know what had become of + pursuer or pursued, until he reached the gap where the gate had been. He + saw then the odd struggle going on, and ran to the aid of his foe, in + terror of what might already have befallen him. The moment he laid hold of + one of the animal's horns, infuriated as Nimrod was with his helpless + entanglement, he knew at once who it was, and was quiet; for Clare always + took him by the horn when first he went up to him. Without a moment's + demur he yielded to the small hands as they pushed and pulled his head + this way and that until they got it clear of the gate. But then they did + not let him go. Clare proceeded to take him home, and Nimrod made no + objection. Simpson lay groaning. + </p> + <p> + When Clare returned, his enemy was there still. He had got clear of the + gate, but seemed in much pain, for he lay tearing up the grass and sod in + handfuls. When Clare stooped to ask what he should do for him, he struck + him a backhanded blow on the face that knocked him over. Clare got up and + ran. + </p> + <p> + “Coward!” cried Simpson; “to leave a man with a broken leg to get home by + himself!” + </p> + <p> + “I'm going to find some one strong enough to help you,” said Clare. + </p> + <p> + But Simpson, after his own evil nature, imagined he was going to let the + bull into the field again, and fell to praying him not to leave him. Clare + knew, however, that, if his leg was broken, he could not get him home, + neither could he get home by himself; so he made haste to tell the people + at the farm, and Simpson lay in terror of the bull till help came. + </p> + <p> + From that hour he hated Clare, attributing to him all the ill he had + brought on himself. But he was out of mischief for a while. The trouble + fell on his mother—who deserved it, for she would believe no ill of + him, because he was <i>hers</i>. One good thing of the affair was, that + the bully was crippled for life, and could do the less harm. + </p> + <p> + It was a great joy to Mr. Person to learn how Clare had defended his + sister. Clergyman as he was, and knowing that Jesus Christ would never + have returned a blow, and that this spirit of the Lord was what saved the + world, he had been uneasy that his adopted child behaved just like Jesus. + That a man should be so made as not to care to return a blow, never + occurred to Mr. Porson as possible. It was therefore an immeasurable + relief to his feelings as an Englishman, to find that the boy was so far + from being destitute of pluck, that in defence of his sister he had + attacked a fellow twice his size. + </p> + <p> + “Weren't you afraid of such a big rascal?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “No, papa,” answered the boy. “Ought I to have been?” + </p> + <p> + He put his hand to his forehead, as if trying to understand. His father + found he had himself something to think about. + </p> + <p> + There was a certain quiescence about Clare, ill to describe, impossible to + explain, but not the less manifest. Like an infant, he never showed + surprise at anything. Whatever came to him he received, questioning + nothing, marvelling at nothing, disputing nothing. What he was told to do + he went to do, never with even a momentary show of disinclination, leaving + book or game with readiness but no eagerness. He would do deftly what was + required of him, and return to his place, with a countenance calm and + sweet as the moon in highest heaven. He seldom offered a caress except to + little Mary; yet would choose, before anything else, a place by his + mother's knee. The moment she, or his father in her absence, entered the + room and sat down, he would rise, take his stool, and set it as near as he + thought he might. When caressed he never turned away, or looked as if he + would rather be let alone; at the same time he received the caress so + quietly, and with so little response, that often, when his heavenly look + had drawn the heart of some mother, or spinster with motherly heart, he + left an ache in the spirit he would have gone to the world's end to + comfort. He never sought love—otherwise than by getting near the + loved. When anything was given him, he would look up and smile, but he + seldom showed much pleasure, or went beyond the regulation thanks. But if + at such a moment little Mary were by, he had a curious way of catching her + up and presenting her to the giver. Whether this was a shape his thanks + took, whether Mary was to him an incorporate gratitude, or whether he + meant to imply that she was the fitter on whom to shower favour, it were + hard to say. His mother observed, and in her mind put the two things + together, that he did not seem to prize much any mere possession. He + looked pleased with a new suit of clothes, but if any one remarked on his + care of them, he would answer, “I mustn't spoil what's papa and mamma's!” + He made no hoard of any kind. He did once hoard marbles till he had about + a hundred; then it was discovered that they were for a certain boy in the + village who was counted half-witted—as indeed was Clare himself by + many. When he learned that the boy had first been accused of stealing them—for + no one would believe that another boy had given them to him—and + after that robbed of them by the other boys, on the ground that he did not + know how to play with them, Clare saw that it was as foolish to hoard for + another as for himself. + </p> + <p> + He was a favourite with few beyond those that knew him well. Many who saw + him only at church, or about the village, did not take to him. His still + regard repelled them. In Naples they would have said he had the evil eye. + I think people had a vague sense of rebuke in his presence. Even his + mother, passionately loving her foundling, was aware of a film between + them through which she could not quite see him, beyond which there was + something she could not get at, Clare knew nothing of such a separation. + He seemed to himself altogether close to his mother, was aware of nothing + between to part them. The cause of the thing was, that Clare was not yet + in flower. His soul was a white half-blown bud, not knowing that it was + but half-blown. It basked in the glory of the warm sun, but only with the + underside of its flower-leaves; it had not opened its heart, the sun-side + of its petals, to the love in which it was immerged. He received the love + as a matter of course, and loved it as a matter of course. But for the + cruel Simpson he would not have known there could be any other way of + things. He did not yet know that one must not only love but mean to love, + must not only bask in the warmth of love, but know it as love, and where + it comes from—love again the fountain whence it flows. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0010" id="link2HCH0010"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter X. The black aunt. + </h2> + <p> + Clare was yet in his tenth year when an unhealthy summer came. The sun was + bright and warm as in other summers, and the flowers in field and garden + appeared as usual when the hour arrived for them to wake and look abroad; + but the children of men did not fare so well as the children of the earth. + A peculiar form of fever showed itself in the village. It was not very + fatal, yet many were so affected as to be long unable to work. There was + consequently much distress beyond the suffering of the fever itself. The + parson and his wife went about from morning to night among the cottagers, + helping everybody that needed help. They had no private fortune, but the + small blanket of the benefice they spread freely over as many as it could + be stretched to cover, depriving themselves of a good part of the food to + which they had been accustomed, and of several degrees of necessary + warmth. When at last the strength of the parson gave way, and the fever + laid hold of him, he had to do without many comforts his wife would gladly + have got for him. They were both of rather humble origin, having but one + relative well-to-do, a sister of Mrs. Porson, who had married a rich but + very common man. From her they could not ask help. She had never sent them + any little present, and had been fiercely indignant with them for adopting + Clare. + </p> + <p> + Neither of them once complained, though Mrs. Person, whose strength was + much spent, could not help weeping sometimes when she was alone and free + to weep. They knew their Lord did not live in luxury, and a secret + gladness nestled in their hearts that they were allowed to suffer a little + with him for the sake of the flock he had given into their charge. + </p> + <p> + The children of course had to share in the general gloom, but it did not + trouble them much. For Clare, he was not easily troubled with anything. + Always ready to help, he did not much realize what suffering was; and he + had Mary to look after, which was labour and pleasure, work and play and + pay all in one. His mother was at ease concerning her child when she knew + her in Clare's charge, and was free to attend to her husband. She often + said that if ever any were paid for being good to themselves, she and her + husband were vastly overpaid for taking such a child from the shuddering + arms of the earthquake. + </p> + <p> + But John Porson's hour was come. He must leave wife and children and + parish, and go to him who had sent him. If any one think it hard he should + so fare in doing his duty, let him be silent till he learn what the parson + himself thought of the matter when he got home. People talk about death as + the gosling might about life before it chips its egg. Take up their way of + lamentation, and we shall find it an endless injustice to have to get up + every morning and go to bed every night. Mrs. Porson wept, but never + thought him or herself ill-used. And had she been low enough to indulge in + self-pity, it would have been thrown away, for before she had time to + wonder how she was to live and rear her children, she too was sent for. In + this world she was not one of those mothers of little faith who trust God + for themselves but not for their children, and when again with her + husband, she would not trust God less. + </p> + <p> + Clare was in the garden when Sarah told him she was dead. He stood still + for a moment, then looked up, up into the blue. Why he looked up, he could + not have told; but ever since that terrible morning of which the vague + burning memory had never passed, when the great dome into which he was + gazing, burst and fell, he had a way every now and then of standing still + and looking up. His face was white. Two slow tears gathered, rolled over, + and dried upon his face. He turned to Mary, lifted her in his arms, and, + carrying her about the garden, once more told her his strange version of + what had happened in his childhood. Then he told her that her papa and + mamma had gone to look for his papa and mamma—“somewhere up in the + dome,” he said. + </p> + <p> + When they wanted to take Mary to see what was left of her mother, the boy + contrived to prevent them. From morning till night he never lost sight of + the child. + </p> + <p> + One cold noon in October, when the clouds were miles deep in front of the + sun, when the rain was falling thick on the yellow leaves, and all the + paths were miry, the two children sat by the kitchen fire. Sarah was + cooking their mid-day meal, which had come from her own pocket. She was + the only servant either of them had known in the house, and she would not + leave it until some one should take charge of them. The neighbours, + dreading infection, did not come near them. Clare sat on a little stool + with Mary on his knees, nestling in his bosom; but he felt dreary, for he + saw no love-firmament over him; the cloud of death hid it. + </p> + <p> + With a sudden jingle and rattle, up drove a rickety post-chaise to the + door of the parsonage. Out of it, and into the kitchen, came stalking a + tall middle-aged woman, in a long black cloak, black bonnet, and black + gloves, with a face at once stern and peevish. + </p> + <p> + “I am the late Mrs. Porson's sister,” she said, and stood. + </p> + <p> + Sarah courtesied and waited. Clare rose, with Mary in his arms. + </p> + <p> + “This is little Maly, ma'am,” he said, offering her the child. + </p> + <p> + “Set her down, and let me see her,” she answered. + </p> + <p> + Clare obeyed. Mary put her finger in her mouth, and began to cry. She did + not like the look of the black aunt, and was not used to a harsh voice. + </p> + <p> + “Tut! tut!” said the black aunt. “Crying already! That will never do! Show + me her things.” + </p> + <p> + Sarah felt stunned. This was worse than death! “If only the mistress had + taken them with her!” she said to herself. + </p> + <p> + Mary's things—they were not many—were soon packed. Within an + hour she was borne off, shrieking, struggling, and calling Clay. The black + aunt, however,—as the black aunt Clare always thought of her—cared + nothing for her resistance; and Clare, who at her first cry was rushing to + the rescue, ready once more to do battle for her, was seized and held back + by Farmer Goodenough. Sarah had sent for him, and he had come—just + in time to frustrate Clare's valour. + </p> + <p> + The carriage was not yet out of sight, when Farmer Goodenough began to + repent that he had come: his presence was an acknowledgment of + responsibility! Something must be done with the foundling! There was + nobody to claim him, and nobody wanted him! He had always liked the boy, + but he did not want him! His wife was not fond of the boy, nor of any boy, + and did not want him! He had said to her that Clare could not be left to + starve, and she had answered, “Why not?”! What was to be done with him? + Nobody knew—any more than Clare himself. But which of us knows what + is going to be done with him? + </p> + <p> + Clare was nobody's business. English farmers no more than French are + proverbial for generosity; and Farmer Goodenough, no bad type of his + class, had a wife in whose thoughts not the pence but the farthings + dominated. She was one who at once recoiled and repelled—one of + those whose skin shrinks from the skin of their kind, and who are + specially apt to take unaccountable dislikes—a pitiable human animal + of the leprous sort. She “never took to the foundling,” she said. To have + neither father nor mother, she counted disreputable. But I believe the + main source of her dislike to Clare was a feeling of undefined reproof in + the very atmosphere of the boy's presence, his nature was so different + from hers. What urged him toward his fellow-creatures, made her draw back + from him. In truth she hated the boy. The very look of him made her sick, + she said. It was only a certain respect for the parson, and a certain fear + of her husband, who, seldom angry, was yet capable of fury, that had + prevented her from driving the child, “with his dish-clout face,” off the + premises, whenever she saw him from door or window. It was no wonder the + farmer should he at his wits' end to know what, as churchwarden, guardian + of the poor, and friend of the late vicar—as friendly also to the + boy himself, he was bound to do. + </p> + <p> + “Where are <i>you</i> going?” he asked Sarah. + </p> + <p> + “Where the Lord wills,” answered the old woman. Her ark had gone to + pieces, and she hardly cared what became of her. + </p> + <p> + “We've got to look to ourselves!” said the farmer. + </p> + <p> + “Parson used to say there was One as took that off our hands!” replied + Sarah. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes,” assented Mr. Goodenough, fidgeting a little; “but the Almighty + helps them as helps themselves, and that's sound doctrine. You really must + do something, Sarah! We can't have you on the parish, you know!” + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon, sir, but until the child here is provided for, or + until they turn us out of the parsonage, I will not leave the place.” + </p> + <p> + “The furniture is advertised for sale. You'll have nothing but the bare + walls!” + </p> + <p> + “We'll manage to keep each other warm!—Shan't we, Clare?” + </p> + <p> + “I will try to keep you warm, Sarah,” responded the boy sadly. + </p> + <p> + “But the new parson will soon be here. Our souls must be cared for!” + </p> + <p> + “Is the Lord's child that came from heaven in an earthquake to be turned + out into the cold for fear the souls of big men should perish?” + </p> + <p> + “Something must be done about it!” said the farmer. + </p> + <p> + “What it's to be I can't tell! It's no business o' mine any way!” + </p> + <p> + “That's what the priest, and the Levite, and the farmer says!” returned + Sarah. + </p> + <p> + “Won't you ask Mr. Goodenough to stay to dinner?” said Clare. + </p> + <p> + He went up to the farmer, who in his perplexity had seated himself, and + laid his arm on his shoulder. + </p> + <p> + “No, I can't,” answered Sarah. “He would eat all we have, and not have + enough!” + </p> + <p> + “Now Maly is gone,” returned Clare, “I would rather not have any dinner.” + </p> + <p> + The farmer's old feeling for the boy, which the dread of having him left + on his hands had for the time dulled, came back. + </p> + <p> + “Get him his dinner, Sarah,” he said. “I've something to see to in the + village. By the time I come back, he'll be ready to go with me, perhaps.” + </p> + <p> + “God bless you, sir!” cried Sarah. “You meant it all the time, an' I been + behavin' like a brute!” + </p> + <p> + The farmer did not like being taken up so sharply. He had promised + nothing! But he had nearly made up his mind that, as the friend of the + late parson, he could scarcely do less than give shelter to the child + until he found another refuge. True, he was not the parson's child, but he + had loved him as his own! He would make the boy useful, and so shut his + wife's mouth! There were many things Clare could do about the place! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0011" id="link2HCH0011"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XI. Clare on the farm. + </h2> + <p> + When Mr. Goodenough appeared at the house-door with the boy, his wife's + face expressed what her tongue dared not utter without some heating of the + furnace behind it. But Clare never saw that he was unwelcome. He had not + begun to note outward and visible signs in regard to his own species; his + observation was confined to the animals, to whose every motion and look he + gave heed. But he was hardly aware of watching even them: his love made it + so natural to watch, and so easy to understand them! He was not drawn to + study Mrs. Goodenough, or to read her indications; he was content to hear + what she said. + </p> + <p> + True to her nature, Mrs. Goodenough, seeing she could not at once get rid + of the boy, did her endeavour to make him pay for his keep. Nominally he + continued to attend the village school, where the old master was doing his + best for him; but, oftener than not, she interposed to prevent his going, + and turned him to use about the house, the dairy, and the poultry-yard. + </p> + <p> + His new mode of life occasioned him no sense of hardship. I do not mean + because of his patient acceptance of everything that came; but because he + had been so long accustomed to the ways of a farm, to all the phases of + life and work in yard and field, that nothing there came strange to him—except + having to stick to what he was put to, and having next to no time to read. + Many boys who have found much amusement in doing this or that, find it + irksome the moment it is required of them: Clare was not of that mean + sort; he was a gentleman. Happily he was put to no work beyond his + strength. + </p> + <p> + At first, and for some time, he had to do only with the creatures more + immediately under the care of “the mistress,” whence his acquaintance with + the poultry and the pigs, the pigeons and the calves—and specially + with such as were delicate or had been hurt—with their ways of + thinking and their carriage and conduct, rapidly increased. + </p> + <p> + By and by, however, having already almost ceased to attend school, the + farmer, requiring some passing help a boy could give, took him from his + wife—not without complaint on her part, neither without sense of + relief, and would not part with him again. He was so quick in doing what + was required, so intelligent to catch the meaning not always thoroughly + expressed, so cheerful, and so willing, that he was a pleasure to Mr. + Goodenough—and no less a pleasure to the farmer that dwelt in Mr. + Goodenough, and seemed to most men all there was of him; for, instead of + an expense, he found him a saving. + </p> + <p> + It was much more pleasant for Clare to be with his master than with his + mistress, but he fared the worse for it in the house. The woman's dislike + of the boy must find outlet; and as, instead of flowing all day long, it + was now pent up the greater part of it, the stronger it issued when he + came home to his meals. I will not defile my page with a record of the + modes in which she vented her spite. It sought at times such minuteness of + indulgence, that it was next to impossible for any one to perceive its + embodiments except the boy himself. + </p> + <p> + He now came more into contact with the larger animals about the place; and + the comfort he derived from them was greater than most people would + readily or perhaps willingly believe. He had kept up his relations with + Nimrod, the bull, and there was never a breach of the friendship between + them. The people about the farm not unfrequently sought his influence with + the animal, for at times they dared hardly approach him. Clare even made + him useful—got a little work out of him now and then. But his main + interest lay in the horses. He had up to this time known rather less of + them than of the other creatures on the place; now he had to give his + chief attention to them, laying in love the foundation of that knowledge + which afterward stood him in such stead when he came to dwell for a time + among certain eastern tribes whose horses are their chief gladness and + care. He used, when alone with them, to talk to this one or that about the + friends he had lost—his father and mother and Maly and Sarah—and + did not mind if they all listened. He would even tell them sometimes about + his own father and mother—how the whole sky full of angels fell down + upon them and took them away. But he said most about his sister. For her + he mourned more than for any of the rest. Her screams as the black aunt + carried her away, would sometimes come back to him with such + verisimilitude of nearness, that, forgetting everything about him, he + would start to run to her. He felt somehow that it was well with the + others, but Maly had always needed <i>him</i>, and more than ever in the + last days of their companionship. He wept for nobody but Maly. In the + night he would wake up suddenly, thinking he heard her crying out for him. + Then he would get out of bed, creep to the stable, go to Jonathan, and to + him pour out his low-voiced complaint. Jonathan was the biggest and oldest + horse on the farm. + </p> + <p> + How much he thought they understood of what he told them, I cannot say. He + was never silly; and where we cannot be sure, we may yet have reason to + hope. He believed they knew when he was in trouble, and sympathized with + him, and would gladly have relieved him of his pain. I suspect most + animals know something of the significance of tears. More animals shed + tears themselves than people think. + </p> + <p> + For dogs, bless them, they are everywhere, and the boy had known them from + time immemorial. + </p> + <p> + In the village, some of Clare's old admirers began to remark that he no + longer “looked the little gentleman.” This was caused chiefly by the state + of his clothes. They were not fit for the work to which he was put, and + within a few weeks were very shabby. Besides, he was growing rapidly, so + that he and his garments were in too evident process of parting company. + Accustomed to a mother's attentions, he had never thought of his clothes + except to take care of them for her sake; now he tried to mend them, but + soon found his labour of little use. He had no wages to buy anything with. + His clothes or his health or his education were nothing to Mrs. + Goodenough. It was no concern of hers whether he looked decent or not. + What right had such as he to look decent? It was more than enough that she + fed him! The shabbiness of the beggarly creature was a consolation to her. + </p> + <p> + But Clare's toil in the open air, and his constant and willing association + with the animals, had begun to give him a bucolic appearance. He grew a + trifle browner, and showed here and there a freckle. His health was + splendid. Nothing seemed to hurt him. Hardship was wholesome to him. To + the eyes that hated him, and grudged the hire of the mere food by which he + grew, he seemed every day to enlarge visibly. Already he gave promise of + becoming a man of more than ordinary strength and vigour. Possibly the + animals gave him something. + </p> + <p> + What may have been his outlook and hope all this time, who shall tell! He + never grumbled, never showed sign of pain or unwillingness, gave his + mistress no reason for fault-finding. She found it hard even to discover a + pretext. She seemed always ready to strike him, but was probably afraid to + do so without provocation her husband would count sufficient. Clare never + showed discomfort, never even sighed except he were alone. Chequered as + his life had been, if ever he looked forward to a fresh change, it was but + as a far possibility in the slow current of events. But he was constantly + possessed with a large dim sense of something that lay beyond, waiting for + him; something toward which the tide of things was with certainty drifting + him, but with which he had nothing more to do than wait. He did not see + that to do the things given him to do was the only preparation for + whatever, in the dim under-world of the future, might be preparing for + him; but he did feel that he must do his work. He did not then think much + about duty. He was actively inclined, had a strong feeling for doing a + thing as it ought to be done; and was thoroughly loyal to any one that + seemed to have a right over him. In this blind, enduring, vaguely hopeful + way, he went on—sustained, and none the less certainly that he did + not know it, from the fountain of his life. When the winter came, his + sufferings, cared for as he had been, and accustomed to warmth and + softness, must at times have been considerable. In the day his work was a + protection, but at night the house was cold. He had, however, plenty to + eat, had no ailment, and was not to be greatly pitied. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0012" id="link2HCH0012"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XII. Clare becomes a guardian of the poor. + </h2> + <p> + Simpson, the bully of Clare's childhood, went limping about on a crutch, + permanently lame, and full of hatred toward the innocent occasion of the + injury he had brought upon himself. Ever since his recovery, he had, + loitering about in idleness, watched the boy, to waylay and catch him at + unawares. Not until Clare went to the farm, however, did he once succeed; + for it was not difficult to escape him, so long as he had not laid actual + hold on his prey. But he grew more and more cunning, and contrived at + last, by creeping along hedges and lying in ambush like a snake, to get + his hands upon him. Then the poor boy fared ill. + </p> + <p> + He went home bleeding and torn. The righteous churchwarden rebuked him + with severity for fighting. His mistress told him she was glad he had met + with some one to give him what he deserved, for she could hardly keep her + hands off him. He stared at her with wondering eyes, but said nothing. She + turned from them: the devil in her could not look in the eyes of the angel + in him. The next time he fell into the snare of his enemy, he managed to + conceal what had befallen him. After that he was too wide awake to be + caught. + </p> + <p> + There was in the village a child whom nobody heeded. He was far more + destitute than Clare, but had too much liberty. He lived with a wretched + old woman who called him her grandson: whether he was or not nobody cared. + She made her livelihood by letting beds, in a cottage or rather hovel + which seemed to be her own, to wayfarers, mostly tramps, with or without + trades. The child was thus thrown into the worst of company, and learned + many sorts of wickedness. He was already a thief, and of no small + proficiency in his art. Though village-bred, he could pick a pocket more + sensitive than a clown's. Small and deft, he had never stood before a + magistrate. He was a miserable creature, bare-footed and bare-legged; + about eight years of age, but so stunted that to the first glance he + looked less than six—with keen ferret eyes in red rims, red hair, + pasty, freckled complexion, and a generally unhealthy look; from which + marks all, Clare conceived a pitiful sympathy for him. Their acquaintance + began thus:— + </p> + <p> + One day, during his father's last illness, he happened to pass the door of + the grandmother's hovel while the crone was administering to Tommy a + severe punishment with a piece of thick rope: she had been sharp enough to + catch him stealing from herself. Clare heard his cries. The door being + partly open, he ran in, and gave him such assistance that they managed to + bolt together from the hut. A friendship, for long almost a silent one, + was thus initiated between them. Tommy—Clare never knew his other + name, nor did the boy himself—would off and on watch for a sight of + him all day long, but had the instinct, or experience, never to approach + him if any one was with him. He was careful not to compromise him. The + instant the most momentary <i>tête-à -tête</i> was possible, he would rush + up, offer him something he had found or stolen, and hurry away again. That + he was a thief Clare had not the remotest suspicion. He had never offered + him anything to suggest theft. + </p> + <p> + By and by it came to the knowledge of Clare's enemy that there was a + friendship between them, and the discovery wrought direness for both. One + day Simpson saw Clare coming, and Tommy watching him. He laid hold of + Tommy, and began cuffing him and pulling his hair, to make him scream, + thinking thus to get hold of Clare. But notwithstanding the lesson he had + received, the rascal had not yet any adequate notion of the boy's capacity + for action where another was concerned. He flew to the rescue, caught up + the crutch Simpson had dropped, and laid it across his back with vigour. + The fellow let Tommy go and turned on Clare, who went backward, + brandishing the crutch. + </p> + <p> + “Run, Tommy,” he cried. + </p> + <p> + Tommy retreated a few steps. + </p> + <p> + “Run yourself,” he counselled, having reached a safe distance. “Take his + third leg with you.” + </p> + <p> + Clare saw the advice was good, and ran. But the next moment reflection + showed him the helplessness of his enemy. He turned, and saw him hobbling + after him in such evident pain and discomfiture, that he went to meet him, + and politely gave him his crutch. He might have thrown it to him and gone + on, but he had a horror of rudeness, and handed it to him with a bow. Just + as he regained his perpendicular, the crutch descended on his head, and + laid him flat on the ground. There the tyrant belaboured him. Tommy stood + and regarded the proceeding. + </p> + <p> + “The cove's older an' bigger an' pluckier than me,” he said to himself; + “but he's an ass. He'll come to grief unless he's looked after. He'll be + hanged else. He don't know how to dodge. I'll have to take him in charge!” + </p> + <p> + When he saw Clare free, an event to which he had contributed nothing, he + turned and ran home. + </p> + <p> + Simpson redoubled now his persecution of Clare, and persecuted Tommy + because of Clare. He lurked for Tommy now, and when he caught him, + tormented him with choice tortures. In a word, he made his life miserable. + After every such mischance Tommy would hurry to the farm, and lie about in + the hope of a sight of Clare, or possibly a chance of speaking to him. His + repute was so bad that he dared not show himself. + </p> + <p> + Hot tears would come into Clare's eyes as he listened to the not always + unembellished tale of Tommy's sufferings at the hands of Simpson; but he + never thought of revenge, only of protection or escape for the boy. It + comforted him to believe that he was growing, and would soon be a match + for the oppressor. + </p> + <p> + Whether at this time he felt any great interest in life, or recognized any + personal advantage in growing, I doubt. But he had the friendship of the + animals; and it is not surprising that creatures their maker thinks worth + making and keeping alive, should yield consolation to one that understands + them, or even fill with a mild joy the pauses of labour in an irksome + life. + </p> + <p> + Then each new day was an old friend to the boy. Each time the sun rose, + new hope rose with him in his heart. He came every morning fresh from + home, with a fresh promise. The boy read the promise in his great shining, + and believed it; gazed and rejoiced, and turned to his work. + </p> + <p> + But the hour arrived when his mistress could bear his presence no longer. + Some petty loss, I imagine, had befallen her. Nothing touched her like the + loss of money—the love of which is as dread a passion as the love of + drink, and more ruinous to the finer elements of the nature. It was like + the tearing out of her heart to Mrs. Goodenough to lose a shilling. Her + self-command forsook her, perhaps, in some such moment of vexation; + anyhow, she opened the sluices of her hate, and overwhelmed him with it in + the presence of her husband. + </p> + <p> + The farmer knew she was unfair, knew the orphan a good boy and a diligent, + knew there was nothing against him but the antipathy of his wife. But, + annoyed with her injustice, he was powerless to change her heart. Since + the boy came to live with them, he had had no pleasure in his wife's + society. She had always been moody and dissatisfied, but since then had + been unbearable. Constantly irritated with and by her because of Clare, he + had begun to regard him as the destroyer of his peace, and to feel a + grudge against him. He sat smouldering with bodiless rage, and said + nothing. + </p> + <p> + Clare too was silent,—for what could he say? Where is the wisdom + that can answer hatred? He carried to his friend Jonathan a heart heavy + and perplexed. + </p> + <p> + “Why does she hate me so, Jonathan?” he murmured. + </p> + <p> + The big horse kissed his head all over, but made him no other answer. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0013" id="link2HCH0013"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XIII. Clare the vagabond. + </h2> + <p> + The next morning Clare happened to do something not altogether to the + farmer's mind. It was a matter of no consequence—only cleaning that + side of one of the cow-houses first which was usually cleaned last. He + gave him a box on the ear that made him stagger, and then stand + bewildered. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean by staring that way?” cried the farmer, annoyed with + himself and seeking justification in his own eyes. “Am I not to box your + ears when I choose?” And with that he gave him another blow. + </p> + <p> + Then first it dawned on Clare that he was not wanted, that he was no good + to anybody. He threw down his scraper, and ran from the cow-house; ran + straight from the farm to the lane, and from the lane to the high road. + Buffets from the hand of his only friend, and the sudden sense of + loneliness they caused, for the moment bereft Clare of purpose. It was as + if his legs had run away with him, and he had unconsciously submitted to + their abduction. + </p> + <p> + At the mouth of the lane, where it opened on the high road, he ran against + Tommy turning the corner, eager to find him. The eyes of the small human + monkey were swollen with weeping; his nose was bleeding, and in size and + shape scarce recognizable as a nose. At the sight, the consciousness of + his protectorate awoke in Clare, and he stopped, unable to speak, but not + unable to listen. Tommy blubbered out a confused, half-inarticulate + something about “granny and the other devil,” who between them had all but + killed him. + </p> + <p> + “What can I do?” said Clare, his heart sinking with the sense of having no + help in him. + </p> + <p> + Tommy was ready to answer the question. He had been hatching vengeance all + the way. Eagerly came his proposition—that they should, in their + turn, lie in ambush for Simpson, and knock his crutch from under him. That + done, Clare should belabour him with it, while he ran like the wind and + set his grandmother's house on fire. + </p> + <p> + “She'll be drunk in bed, an' she'll be burned to death!” cried Tommy. + “Then we'll mizzle!” + </p> + <p> + “But it would hurt them both very badly, Tommy!” said Clare, as if + unfolding the reality of the thing to a foolish child. + </p> + <p> + “Well! all right! the worse the better! 'Ain't they hurt us?” rejoined + Tommy. + </p> + <p> + “That's how we know it's not nice!” answered Clare. “If they set it a + going, we ain't to keep it a going!” + </p> + <p> + “Then they'll be at it for ever,” cried Tommy, “an' I'm sick of it! I'll + <i>kill</i> granny! I swear I will, if I'm hanged for it! She's said a + hundred times she'd pull my legs when I was hanged; but <i>she</i> won't + be at the hanging!” + </p> + <p> + “Why shouldn't you run for it first?” said Clare. “Then they wouldn't want + to hang you!” + </p> + <p> + “Then I shouldn't have nobody!” replied Tommy, whimpering. + </p> + <p> + “I should have thought Nobody was as good as granny!” said Clare. + </p> + <p> + “A big bilin' better!” answered Tommy bitterly. “I wasn't meanin' granny—nor + yet stumpin' Simpson.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know what you're driving at,” said Clare. Tommy burst into tears. + </p> + <p> + “Ain't you the only one I got, up or down?” he cried. + </p> + <p> + Tommy had a little bit of heart—not much, but enough to have a + chance of growing. If ever creature had less than that, he was not human. + I do not think he could even be an ape. + </p> + <p> + Some of the people about the parson used to think Clare had no heart, and + Mrs. Goodenough was sure of it. He had not a spark of gratitude, she said. + But the cause of this opinion was that Clare's affection took the shape of + deeds far more than of words. Never were judges of their neighbours more + mistaken. The chief difference between Clare's history and that of most + others was, that his began at the unusual end. Clare began with loving + everybody; and most people take a long time to grow to that. Hence, those + whom, from being brought nearest to them, he loved specially, he loved + without that outbreak of show which is often found in persons who love but + a few, and whose love is defiled with partisanship. He loved quietly and + constantly, in a fashion as active as undemonstrative. He was always glad + to be near those he specially loved; beyond that, the signs of his love + were practical—it came out in ministration, in doing things for + them. There are those who, without loving, desire to be loved, because + they love themselves; for those that are worth least are most precious to + themselves. But Clare never thought of the love of others to him—from + no heartlessness, but that he did not think about himself—had never + done so, at least, until the moment when he fled from the farm with the + new agony in his heart that nobody wanted him, that everybody would be + happier without him. Happy is he that does not think of himself before the + hour when he becomes conscious of the bliss of being loved. For it must be + and ought to be a happy moment when one learns that another human creature + loves him; and not to be grateful for love is to be deeply selfish. Clare + had always loved, but had not thought of any one as loving him, or of + himself as being loved by any one. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” rejoined Clare, struggling with his misery, “ain't I going + myself?” + </p> + <p> + “You going!—That's chaff!” + </p> + <p> + “'Tain't chaff. I'm on my way.” + </p> + <p> + “What! Going to hook it? Oh golly! what a lark! Won't Farmer Goodenough + look blue!” + </p> + <p> + “He'll think himself well rid of me,” returned Clare with a sigh. “But + there's no time to talk. If you're going, Tommy, come along.” + </p> + <p> + He turned to go. + </p> + <p> + “Where to?” asked Tommy, following. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know. Anywhere away,” answered Clare, quickening his pace. + </p> + <p> + In spite of his swollen visage, Tommy's eyes grew wider. + </p> + <p> + “You 'ain't cribbed nothing?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know what you mean.” + </p> + <p> + “You 'ain't stole something?” interpreted Tommy. + </p> + <p> + Clare stopped, and for the first time on his own part, lifted his hand to + strike. It dropped immediately by his side. + </p> + <p> + “No, you poor Tommy,” he said. “I don't steal.” + </p> + <p> + “Thought you didn't! What are you running away for then?” + </p> + <p> + “Because they don't want me.” + </p> + <p> + “Lord! what will you do?” + </p> + <p> + “Work.” + </p> + <p> + Tommy held his tongue: he knew a better way than that! If work was the + only road to eating, things would go badly with <i>him</i>! But he thought + he knew a thing or two, and would take his chance! There were degrees of + hunger that were not so bad as the thrashings he got, for in his granny's + hands the rope might fall where it would; while all cripple Simpson cared + for was to make him squeal satisfactorily. But work was worse than all! He + would go with Clare, but not to work! Not he! + </p> + <p> + Clare kept on in silence, never turning his head—out into the + untried, unknown, mysterious world, which lay around the one spot he knew + as the darkness lies about the flame of the candle. They walked more than + a mile before either spoke. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0014" id="link2HCH0014"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XIV. Their first helper + </h2> + <p> + It was a lovely spring morning. The sun was about thirty degrees above the + horizon, shining with a liquid radiance, as if he had already drawn up and + was shining through the dew of the morning, though it lay yet on all the + grasses by the roadside, turning them into gem-plants. Every sort of gem + sparkled on their feathery or beady tops, and their long slender blades. + At the first cottages they passed, the women were beginning their day's + work, sweeping clean their floors and door-steps. Clare noted that where + were most flowers in the garden, the windows were brightest, and the + children cleanest. + </p> + <p> + “The flowers come where they make things nice for them!” he said to + himself. “Where the flowers see dirt, they turn away, and won't come out.” + </p> + <p> + From childhood he had had the notion that the flowers crept up inside the + stalks until they found a window to look out at. Where the prospect was + not to their mind they crept down, and away by some door in the root to + try again. For all the stalks stood like watch-towers, ready for them to + go up and peep out. + </p> + <p> + They came to a pond by a farm-house. Clare had been observing with pity + how wretched Tommy's clothes were; but when he looked into the pond he saw + that his own shabbiness was worse than Tommy's downright miserableness. + Nobody would leave either of them within reach of anything worth stealing! + What he wore had been his Sunday suit, and it was not even worth brushing! + </p> + <p> + “I'm 'orrid 'ungry,” said Tommy. “I 'ain't swallered a plug this mornin', + 'xcep' a lump o' bread out o' granny's cupboard. That's what I got my + weltin' for. It were a whole half-loaf, though—an' none so dry!” + </p> + <p> + Clare had eaten nothing, and had been up since five o'clock—at work + all the time till the farmer struck him: he was quite as hungry as Tommy. + What was to be done? Besides a pocket-handkerchief he had but one thing + alienable. + </p> + <p> + The very day she was taken ill, he had been in the store-room with his + mother, and she, knowing the pleasure he took in the scent of brown + Windsor-soap, had made him a present of a small cake. This he had kept in + his pocket ever since, wrapt in a piece of rose-coloured paper, his one + cherished possession: hunger deadening sorrow, the time was come to bid it + farewell. His heart ached to part with it, but Tommy and he were so + hungry! + </p> + <p> + They went to the door of the house, and knocked—first Clare very + gently, then Tommy with determination. It was opened by a matron who + looked at them over the horizon of her chin. + </p> + <p> + “Please, ma'am,” said Clare, “will you give us a piece of bread?—as + large a piece, please, as you can spare; and I will give you this piece of + brown Windsor-soap.” + </p> + <p> + As he ended his speech, he took a farewell whiff of his favourite + detergent. + </p> + <p> + “Soap!” retorted the dame. “Who wants your soap! Where did you get it? + Stole it, I don't doubt! Show it here.” + </p> + <p> + She took it in her hand, and held it to her nose. + </p> + <p> + “Who gave it you?” + </p> + <p> + “My mother,” answered Clare. + </p> + <p> + “Where's your mother?” + </p> + <p> + Clare pointed upward. + </p> + <p> + “Eh? Oh—hanged! I thought, so!” + </p> + <p> + She threw the soap into the yard, and closed the door. Clare darted after + his property, pounced upon it, and restored it lovingly to his pocket. + </p> + <p> + As they were leaving the yard disconsolate, they saw a cart full of + turnips. Tommy turned and made for it. + </p> + <p> + “Don't, Tommy,” cried Clare. + </p> + <p> + “Why not? I'm hungry,” answered Tommy, “an' you see it's no use astin'!” + </p> + <p> + He flew at the cart, but Clare caught and held him. + </p> + <p> + “They ain't ours, Tommy,” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Then why don't you take one?” retorted Tommy. + </p> + <p> + “That's why you shouldn't.” + </p> + <p> + “It's why you should, for then it 'ud be yours.” + </p> + <p> + “To take it wouldn't make it ours, Tommy.” + </p> + <p> + “Wouldn't it, though? I believe when I'd eaten it, it would be mine—rather!” + </p> + <p> + “No, it wouldn't. Think of having in your stomach what wasn't yours! No, + you must pay for it. Perhaps they would take my soap for a turnip. I + believe it's worth two turnips.” + </p> + <p> + He spied a man under a shed, ran to him, and made offer of the soap for a + turnip apiece. + </p> + <p> + “I don't want your soap,” answered the man, “an' I don't recommend cold + turmits of a mornin'. But take one if you like, and clear out. The + master's cart-whip 'ill be about your ears the moment he sees you!” + </p> + <p> + “Ain't you the master, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I ain't.” + </p> + <p> + “Then the turnips ain't yours?” said Clare, looking at him with hungry, + regretful eyes, for he could have eaten a raw potato. + </p> + <p> + “You're a deal too impudent to be hungry!” said the man, making a blow at + him with his open hand, which Clare dodged. “Be off with you, or I'll set + the dog on you.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm very sorry,” said Clare. “I did not mean to offend you.” + </p> + <p> + “Clear out, I say. Double trot!” + </p> + <p> + Hungry as the boys were, they must trudge! No bread, no turnip for them! + Nothing but trudge, trudge till they dropped! + </p> + <p> + When they had gone about five miles further, they sat down, as if by + common consent, on the roadside; and Tommy, used to crying, began to cry. + Clare did not seek to stop him, for some instinct told him it must be a + relief. + </p> + <p> + By and by a working-man came along the road. Clare hesitated, but Tommy's + crying urged him. He rose and stood ready to accost him. As soon as he + came up, however, the man stopped of himself. He questioned Clare and + listened to his story, then counselled the boys to go back. + </p> + <p> + “I'm not wanted, sir,” said Clare. + </p> + <p> + “They'd kill <i>me</i>,” said Tommy. + </p> + <p> + “God help you, boys!” returned the man. “You may be telling me lies, and + you may be telling me the truth!—A liar may be hungry, but somehow I + grudge my dinner to a liar!” + </p> + <p> + As he spoke he untied the knots of a blue handkerchief with white spots, + gave them its contents of bread and cheese, wiped his face with it, and + put it in his pocket; lifted his bag of tools, and went his way. He had + lost his dinner and saved his life! + </p> + <p> + The dinner, being a man's, went a good way toward satisfying them, though + empty corners would not have been far to seek, had there been anything to + put in them. As it was, they started again refreshed and hopeful. What had + come to them once might reasonably come again! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0015" id="link2HCH0015"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XV. Their first host. + </h2> + <p> + As the evening drew on, and began to settle down into night, a new care + arose in the mind of the elder boy. Where were they to pass the darkness?—how + find shelter for sleep? It was a question that gave Tommy no anxiety. He + had been on the tramp often, now with one party, now with another of his + granny's lodgers, and had frequently slept in the open air, or under the + rudest covert. Tommy had not much imagination to trouble him, and in his + present moral condition was possibly better without it; but to + inexperienced Clare there was something fearful in having the night come + so close to him. Sleep out of doors he had never thought of. To lie down + with the stars looking at him, nothing but the blue wind between him and + them, was like being naked to the very soul. Doubtless there would be + creatures about, to share the night with him, and protect him from its + awful bareness; but they would be few for the size of the room, and he + might see none of them! It was the sense of emptiness, the lack of present + life that dismayed him. He had never seen any creatures to shrink from. He + disliked no one of the things that creep or walk or fly. Before long he + did come to know and dislike at least one sort; and the sea held creatures + that in after years made him shudder; but as yet, not even rats, so + terrible to many, were a terror to Clare. It was Nothing that he feared. + </p> + <p> + My reader may say, “But had no one taught him about God?” Yes, he had + heard about God, and about Jesus Christ; had heard a great deal about + them. But they always seemed persons a long way off. He knew, or thought + he knew, that God was everywhere, but he had never felt his presence a + reality. He seemed in no place where Clare's eyes ever fell. He never + thought, “God is here.” Perhaps the sparrows knew more about God than he + did then. When he looked out into the night it always seemed vacant, + therefore horrid, and he took it for as empty as it looked. And if there + had been no God there, it would have been reasonable indeed to be afraid; + for the most frightful of notions is <i>Nothing-at-all</i>. + </p> + <p> + It grew dark, and they were falling asleep on their walking legs, when + they came to a barn-yard. Very glad were they to creep into it, and search + for the warmest place. It was a quiet part of the country, and for years + nothing had been stolen from anybody, so that the people were not so + watchful as in many places. + </p> + <p> + They went prowling about, but even Tommy with innocent intent, eager only + after a little warmth, and as much sleep as they could find, and came at + length to an open window, through which they crawled into what, by the + smell and the noises, they knew to be a stable. It was very dark, but + Clare was at home, and felt his way about; while Tommy, who was afraid of + the horses, held close to him. Clare's hand fell upon the hind-quarters of + a large well-fed horse. The huge animal was asleep standing, but at the + touch of the small hand he gave a low whinny. Tommy shuddered at the + sound. + </p> + <p> + “He's pleased,” said Clare, and crept up on his near side into the stall. + There he had soon made such friends with him, that he did not hesitate to + get in among the hay the horse had for his supper. + </p> + <p> + “Here, Tommy!” he cried in a whisper; “there's room for us both in the + manger.” + </p> + <p> + But Tommy stood shaking. He fancied the darkness full of horses' heads, + and would not stir. Clare had to get out again, and search for a place to + suit his fancy, which he found in an untenanted loose-box, with remains of + litter. There Tommy coiled himself up, and was soon fast asleep. + </p> + <p> + Clare returned to the hospitality of the big horse. The great nostrils + snuffed him over and over as he lay, and the boy knew the horse made him + welcome. He dropped asleep stroking the muzzle of his chamber-fellow, and + slept all the night, kept warm by the horse's breath, and the near furnace + of his great body. + </p> + <p> + In the morning the boys found they had slept too long, for they were + discovered. But though they were promptly ejected as vagabonds, and not + without a few kicks and cuffs, these were not administered without the + restraint of some mercy, for their appearance tended to move pity rather + than indignation. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0016" id="link2HCH0016"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XVI. On the tramp. + </h2> + <p> + With the new day came the fresh necessity for breakfast, and the fresh + interest in the discovery of it. But breakfast is a thing not always + easiest to find where breakfasts most abound; nor was theirs when found + that morning altogether of a sort to be envied, ill as they could afford + to despise it. Passing, on their goal-less way, a flour-mill, the door of + which was half-open, they caught sight of a heap, whether floury dust or + dusty flour, it would have been hard to say, that seemed waiting only for + them to help themselves from it. Fain to still the craving of birds too + early for any worm, they swallowed a considerable portion of it, choking + as it was, nor met with rebuke. There was good food in it, and they might + have fared worse. + </p> + <p> + Another day's tramp was thus inaugurated. How it was to end no one in the + world knew less than the trampers. + </p> + <p> + Before it was over, a considerable change had passed upon Clare; for a new + era was begun in his history, and he started to grow more rapidly. + Hitherto, while with his father or mother, or with his little sister, + making life happy to her; even while at the farm, doing hard work, he had + lived with much the same feeling with which he read a story: he was in the + story, half dreaming, half acting it. The difference between a thing that + passed through his brain from the pages of a book, or arose in it as he + lay in bed either awake or asleep, and the thing in which he shared the + life and motion of the day, was not much marked in his consciousness. He + was a dreamer with open eyes and ready hands, not clearly distinguishing + thought and action, fancy and fact. Even the cold and hunger he had felt + at the farm had not sufficed to wake him up; he had only had to wait and + they were removed. But now that he did not know whence his hunger was to + be satisfied, or where shelter was to be had; now also that there was a + hunger outside him, and a cold that was not his, which yet he had to + supply and to frustrate in the person of Tommy, life began to grow real to + him; and, which was far more, he began to grow real to himself, as a power + whose part it was to encounter the necessities thus presented. He began to + understand that things were required of him. He had met some of these + requirements before, and had satisfied them, but without knowing them as + requirements. He did it half awake, not as a thinking and willing source + of the motion demanded. He did it all by impulse, hardly by response. Now + we are put into bodies, and sent into the world, to wake us up. We might + go on dreaming for ages if we were left without bodies that the wind could + blow upon, that the rain could wet, and the sun scorch, bodies to feel + thirst and cold and hunger and wounds and weariness. The eternal plan was + beginning to tell upon Clare. He was in process of being changed from a + dreamer to a man. It is a good thing to be a dreamer, but it is a bad + thing indeed to be <i>only</i> a dreamer. He began to see that everybody + in the world had to do something in order to get food; that he had worked + for the farmer and his wife, and they had fed him. He had worked willingly + and eaten gladly, but had not before put the two together. He saw now that + men who would be men must work. + </p> + <p> + His eyes fell upon a congregation of rooks in a field by the roadside. + “Are <i>they</i> working?” he thought; “or are they stealing? If it be + stealing they are at, it looks like hard work as well. It can't be + stealing though; they were made to live, and <i>how</i> are they to live + if they don't grub? that's their work! Still the corn ain't theirs! + Perhaps it's only worms they take! Are the worms theirs? A man should die + rather than steal, papa said. But, if they are stealing, the crows don't + know it; and if they don't know it, they ain't thieves! Is that it?” + </p> + <p> + The same instant came the report of a gun. A crowd of rooks rose cawing. + One of them dropped and lay. + </p> + <p> + “He must have been stealing,” thought Clare, “for see what comes of it! + Would they shoot me if I stole? Better be shot than die of hunger! Yes, + but better die of hunger than be a thief!” + </p> + <p> + He had read stories about thieves and honest boys, and had never seen any + difficulty in the matter. Nor had he yet a notion of how difficult it is + not to be a thief—that is, to be downright honest. If anybody thinks + it easy, either he has not known much of life, or he has never tried to be + honest; he has done just like other people. Clare did not know that many a + boy whose heart sided with the honest boy in the story, has grown up a + dishonourable man—a man ready to benefit himself to the disadvantage + of others; that many a man who passes for respectable in this disreputable + world, is counted far meaner than a thief in the next, and is going there + to be put in prison. But he began to see that it is not enough to mean + well; that he must be sharp, and mind what he was about; else, with hunger + worrying inside him, he might be a thief before he knew. He was on the way + to discover that to think rightly—to be on the side of what is + honourable when reading a story, is a very different thing from doing + right, and being honourable, when the temptation is upon us. Many a boy + when he reads this will say, “Of course it is!” and when the time comes, + will be a sneak. + </p> + <p> + Those crows set Clare thinking; and it was well; for if he had not done as + those thinkings taught him, he would have given a very different turn to + his history. Meditation and resolve, on the top of honourable habit, + brought him to this, that, when he saw what was right, he just did it—did + it without hesitation, question, or struggle. Every man must, who would be + a free man, who would not be the slave of the universe and of himself. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0017" id="link2HCH0017"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XVII. The baker's cart. + </h2> + <p> + The sweepings of the mill-floor did not last them long, and by the time + they saw rising before them the spires and chimneys of the small county + town to which the road had been leading them, they were very hungry indeed—as + hungry as they well could be without having begun to grow faint. The + moment he saw them, Clare began revolving in his mind once more, as many + times on the way, what he was to do to get work: Tommy of course was too + small to do anything, and Clare must earn enough for both. He could think + of nothing but going into the shops, or knocking at the house-doors, and + asking for something to do. So filled was he with his need of work, and + with the undefined sense of a claim for work, that he never thought how + much against him must be the outward appearance which had so dismayed + himself when he saw it in the pond; never thought how unwilling any one + would be to employ him, or what a disadvantage was the company of Tommy, + who had every mark of a born thief. + </p> + <p> + I do not know if, on his tramps, Tommy had been in a town before, but to + Clare all he saw bore the aspect of perfect novelty, notwithstanding the + few city-shapes that floated in faintest shadow, like memories of old + dreams, in his brain. He was delighted with the grand look of the place, + with its many people and many shops. His hope of work at once became + brilliant and convincing. + </p> + <p> + Noiselessly and suddenly Tommy started from his side, but so much occupied + was he with what he beheld and what he thought, that he neither saw him go + nor missed him when gone. He became again aware of him by finding himself + pulled toward the entrance of a narrow lane. Tommy pulled so hard that + Clare yielded, and went with him into the lane, but stopped immediately. + For he saw that Tommy had under his arm a big loaf, and the steam of + newly-baked bread was fragrant in his nostrils. Never smoke so gracious + greeted those of incense-loving priest. Tommy tugged and tugged, but Clare + stood stock-still. + </p> + <p> + “Where did you get that beautiful loaf, Tommy?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Off on a baker's cart,” said Tommy. “Don't be skeered; he never saw me! + That was my business, an' I seed to 't.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you stole it, Tommy?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” grumbled Tommy, “—if that's the name you put upon it when + your trousers is so slack you've got to hold on to them or they'd trip you + up!” + </p> + <p> + “Where's the cart?” + </p> + <p> + “In the street there.” + </p> + <p> + “Come along.” + </p> + <p> + Clare took the loaf from Tommy, and turned to find the baker's cart. + Tommy's face fell, and he was conscious only of bitterness. Why had he + yielded to sentiment—not that he knew the word—when he longed + like fire to bury his sharp teeth in that heavenly loaf? Love—not to + mention a little fear—had urged him to carry it straight to Clare, + and this was his reward! He was going to give him up to the baker! There + was gratitude for you! He ought to have known better than trust <i>anybody</i>, + even Clare! Nobody was to be trusted but yourself! It did seem hard to + Tommy. + </p> + <p> + They had scarcely turned the corner when they came upon the cart. The + baker was looking the other way, talking to some one, and Clare thought to + lay down the loaf and say nothing about it: there was no occasion for the + ceremony of apology where offence was unknown. But in the very act the + baker turned and saw him. He sprang upon him, and collared him. The baker + was not nice to look at. + </p> + <p> + “I have you!” he cried, and shook him as if he would have shaken his head + off. + </p> + <p> + “It's quite a mistake, sir!” was all Clare could get out, so fierce was + the earthquake that rattled the house of his life. + </p> + <p> + “Mistaken am I? I like that!—Police!” + </p> + <p> + And with that the baker shook him again. + </p> + <p> + A policeman was not far off; he heard the man call, and came running. + </p> + <p> + “Here's a gen'leman as wants the honour o' your acquaintance, Bob!” said + the baker. + </p> + <p> + But Tommy saw that, from his size, he was more likely to get off than + Clare if he told the truth. + </p> + <p> + “Please, policeman,” he said, “it wasn't him; it was me as took the loaf.” + </p> + <p> + “You little liar!” shouted the baker. “Didn't I see him with his hand on + the loaf?” + </p> + <p> + “He was a puttin' of it back,” said Tommy. “I wish he'd been somewheres + else! See what he been an' got by it! If he'd only ha' let me run, there + wouldn't ha' been nobody the wiser. I <i>am</i> sorry I didn't run. Oh, I + <i>ham</i> so 'ungry!” + </p> + <p> + Tommy doubled himself up, with his hands inside the double. + </p> + <p> + “'Ungry, are you?” roared the baker. “That's what thieves off a baker's + cart ought to be! They ought to be always 'ungry—'ungry to all + eternity, they ought! An' that's what's goin' to be done to 'em!” + </p> + <p> + “Look here!” cried a pale-faced man in the front of the crowd, who seemed + a mechanic. “There's a way of tellin' whether the boy's speakin' the truth + <i>now</i>!” + </p> + <p> + He caught up the restored loaf, halved it cleverly, and handed each of the + boys a part. + </p> + <p> + “Now, baker, what's to pay?” he said, and drew himself up, for the man was + too angry at once to reply. + </p> + <p> + The boys were tearing at the delicious bread, blind and deaf to all about + them. + </p> + <p> + “P'r'aps you would like to give <i>me</i> in charge?” pursued their + saviour. + </p> + <p> + “Sixpence,” said the man sullenly. + </p> + <p> + The mechanic laid sixpence on the cover of the cart. + </p> + <p> + “I ought to ha' made you weigh and make up,” he said. “Where's your + scales?” + </p> + <p> + “Mind your own business.” + </p> + <p> + “I mean to. Here! I want another sixpenny loaf—but I want it weighed + this time!” + </p> + <p> + “I ain't bound to sell bread in the streets. You can go to the shop. Them + loaves is for reg'lar customers.” + </p> + <p> + He moved off with his cart, and the crowd began to disperse. The boys + stood absorbed, each in what remained of his half-loaf. + </p> + <p> + When he looked up, Clare saw that they were alone. But he caught sight of + their benefactor some way off, and ran after him. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sir!” he said, “I was so hungry, I don't know whether I thanked you + for the loaf. We'd had nothing to-day but the sweepings of a mill.” + </p> + <p> + “God bless my soul!” said the man. “People say there's a God!” he added. + </p> + <p> + “I think there must be, sir, for you came by just then!” returned Clare. + </p> + <p> + “How do you come to be so hard-up, my boy? Somebody's to blame + somewheres!” + </p> + <p> + “There ain't no harm in being hungry, so long as the loaf comes!” rejoined + Clare. “When I get work we shall be all right!” + </p> + <p> + “That's your sort!” said the man. “But if there had been a God, as people + say, he would ha' made me fit to gi'e you a job, i'stead o' stan'in' here + as you see me, with ne'er a turn o' work to do for myself!” + </p> + <p> + “I'll work my hardest to pay you back your sixpence,” said Clare. + </p> + <p> + “Nay, nay, lad! Don't you trouble about that. I ha' got two or three more + i' my pocket, thank God!” + </p> + <p> + “You have two Gods, have you, sir?” said Clare;”—one who does things + for you, and one who don't?” + </p> + <p> + “Come, you young shaver! you're too much for me!” said the man laughing. + </p> + <p> + Tommy, having finished his bread, here thought fit to join them. He came + slyly up, looking impudent now he was filled, with his hands where his + pockets should have been. + </p> + <p> + “It was you stole the loaf, you little rascal!” said the workman, seeing + thief in every line of the boy. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” answered Tommy boldly, “an' I don't see no harm. The baker had + lots, and he wasn't 'ungry! It was Clare made a mull of it! He's such a + duffer you don't know! He acshally took it back to the brute! He deserved + what he got! The loaf was mine. It wasn't his! <i>I</i> stole it!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, ho! it wasn't his! it was yours, was it?—Why do you go about + with a chap like this, young gentleman?” said the man, turning to Clare. + “I know by your speech you 'ain't been brought up alongside o' sech as + him!” + </p> + <p> + “I had to go away, and he came with me,” answered Clare. + </p> + <p> + “You'd better get rid of him. He'll get you into trouble.” + </p> + <p> + “I can't get rid of him,” replied Clare. “But I shall teach him not to + take what isn't his. He don't know better now. He's been ill-used all his + life.” + </p> + <p> + “You don't seem over well used yourself,” said the man. + </p> + <p> + He saw that Clare's clothes had been made for a boy in good circumstances, + though they had been long worn, and were much begrimed. His face, his + tone, his speech convinced him that they had been made for <i>him</i>, and + that he had had a gentle breeding. + </p> + <p> + “Look you here, young master,” he continued; “you have no right to be in + company with that boy. He'll bring you to grief as sure as I tell you.” + </p> + <p> + “I shall be able to bear it,” answered Clare with a sigh. + </p> + <p> + “He'll be the loss of your character to you.” + </p> + <p> + “I 'ain't got a character to lose,” replied Clare. “I thought I had; but + when nobody will believe me, where's my character then?” + </p> + <p> + “Now you're wrong there,” returned the man. “I'm not much, I know; but I + believe every word you say, and should be very sorry to find myself + mistaken.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, sir,” said Clare. “May I carry your bag for you?” + </p> + <p> + If Clare had seen what then passed in Tommy's mind, at the back of those + glistening ferret-eyes of his, he would have been almost reconciled to + taking the man's advice, and getting rid of him. Tommy was saying to + himself that his pal wasn't such a duffer after all—he was on the + lay for the man's tools! + </p> + <p> + Tommy never reasoned except in the direction of cunning self-help—of + fitting means and intermediate ends to the one main object of eating. It + is wonderful what a sharpener of the poor wits hunger is! + </p> + <p> + “I guess I'm the abler-bodied pauper!” answered the man; and picking up + the bag he had dropped at his feet while they conversed, he walked away. + </p> + <p> + There are many more generous persons among the poor than among the rich—a + fact that might help some to understand how a rich man should find it hard + to enter into the kingdom of heaven. It is hard for everybody, but harder + for the rich. Men who strive to make money are unconsciously pulling + instead of pushing at the heavy gate of the kingdom. + </p> + <p> + “Tommy!” said Clare, in a tone new to himself, for a new sense of moral + protection had risen in him, “if ever you steal anything again, either I + give you a hiding, or you and I part company.” + </p> + <p> + Tommy bored his knuckles into his red eyes, and began to whimper. Again it + was hard for Tommy! He had followed Clare, thinking to supply what was + lacking to him; to do for him what he was not clever enough to do for + himself; in short, to make an advantageous partnership with him, to which + he should furnish the faculty of picking up unconsidered trifles. Tommy + judged Clare defective in intellect, and quite unpractical. He was of the + mind of the multitude. The common-minded man always calls the man who + thinks of righteousness before gain, who seeks to do the will of God and + does not seek to make a fortune, unpractical. He <i>will</i> not see that + the very essence of the practical lies in doing the right thing. + </p> + <p> + Tommy, in a semi-conscious way, had looked to Clare to supply the strength + and the innocent look, while he supplied the head and the lively fingers; + and here was Clare knocking the lovely plan to pieces! He did well to be + angry! But Clare was the stronger; and Tommy knew that, when Clare was + roused, though it was not easy to rouse him, he could and would and did + fight—not, indeed, as the little coward said to himself <i>he</i> + could fight, like a wild cat, but like a blundering hornless old cow + defending her calf from a cur. + </p> + <p> + In the heart of all his selfishness, however, Tommy did a little love + Clare; and his love came, not from Tommy, but from the same source as his + desire for food, namely, from the God that was in Tommy, the God in whom + Tommy lived and had his being with Clare. Whether Tommy's love for Clare + would one day lift him up beside Clare, that is, make him an honest boy + like Clare, remained to be seen. + </p> + <p> + Finding his demonstration make no impression, Tommy took his knuckles out + of his eye-holes and thrust them into his pocket-holes, turned his back on + his friend, and began to whistle—with a lump of self-pity in his + throat. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0018" id="link2HCH0018"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XVIII. Beating the town. + </h2> + <p> + They turned their faces again toward the centre of the town, and resumed + their walk, taking in more of what they saw than while they had not yet + had the second instalment of their daily bread. What a thing is food! It + is the divineness of the invention—the need for the food, and the + food for the need—that makes those who count their dinner the most + important thing in the day, such low creatures: nothing but what is good + in itself can be turned into vileness. It is a delight to see a boy with a + good honest appetite; a boy that <i>loves</i> his dinner is a loathsome + creature. Eat heartily, my boy, but be ready to share, even when you are + hungry, and have only what you could eat up yourself, else you are no man. + Remember that you created neither your hunger nor your food; that both + came from one who cares for you and your neighbours as well. + </p> + <p> + In the strength of the half-loaf he had eaten, the place looked to Clare + far more wonderful, and his hopes of earning his bread grew yet more + radiant. But he passed one shop after another, and always something + prevented him from going in. One after another did not look just the right + sort, did not seem to invite him: the next might be better! I dare say but + for that half-loaf, he would have made a trial sooner, but I doubt if he + would have succeeded sooner. He did not think of going to parson, doctor, + or policeman for advice; he went walking and staring, followed by Tommy + with his hands in his pocketless pocket-holes. Clare was not yet practical + in device, though perfect in willingness, and thorough in design. Up one + street and down another they wandered, seeing plenty of food through + windows, and in carts and baskets, but never any coming their way, except + in the form of tempting odours that issued from almost every house, and + grew in keenness and strength toward one o'clock. Oh those odours!—agonizing + angels of invisible yet most material good! Of what joys has not the + Father made us capable, when the poorest necessity is linked with such + pain! What a tormenting thing—and what a good must be meant to come + out of it!—to be hungry, downright, cravingly hungry with the whole + microcosm, and not a halfpenny to buy a mouthful of assuagement!—to + be assailed with wafts of deliriously undefined promise, not one of which + seems likely to be fulfilled!—promise true to men hurrying home to + dinner or luncheon, but only rousing greater desire in such as Clare and + Tommy. Not one opportunity of appropriation presented itself, else it + would have gone ill with Tommy, now that the eyes and ears of his guardian + were on the alert. For Clare thought of him now as a little thievish pup, + for whose conduct, manners, and education he was responsible. + </p> + <p> + The agony began at length to abate—ready to revive with augmented + strength when the next hour for supplying the human furnace should begin + to approach. Few even of those who know what hunger is, understand to what + it may grow—how desire becomes longing, longing becomes craving, and + craving a wild passion of demand. It must be terrible to be hungry, and + not know God! + </p> + <p> + As the evening came down upon them, worn out, faint with want, shivering + with cold, and as miserable in prospect as at the moment, yet another need + presented itself with equally imperative requisition—that of shelter + that they might rest. It was even more imperative: they could not eat; + they <i>must</i> lie down! + </p> + <p> + Whether it be a rudiment retained from their remote ancestry, I cannot + tell, but any kind of suffering will wake in some a masterful impulse to + burrow; and as the boys walked about in their misery, white with cold and + hunger, Clare's eyes kept turning to every shallowest archway, every + breach in wall or hedge that seemed to offer the least chance of covert, + while, every now and then, Tommy would bolt from his side to peer into + some opening whose depth was not immediately patent to his ferret-gaze. + Once, in a lane on the outskirts of the town, he darted into a narrow + doorway in the face of a wall, but instantly rushed back in horror: within + was a well, where water lay still and dark. Then first Clare had a hint of + the peculiar dread Tommy had of water, especially of water dark and + unexpected. Possibly he had once been thrown into such water to be got rid + of. But Clare at the moment was too weary to take much notice of his + dismay. + </p> + <p> + It was an old town in which they were wandering, and change in the + channels of traffic had so turned its natural nourishment aside, that it + was in parts withering and crumbling away. Not a few of the houses were, + some from poverty, some from utter disuse, yielding fast to decay. But + there were other causes for the condition of one, which, almost directly + they came out of the lane I have just mentioned, into the end of a wide + silent street, drew the roving, questing eyes of Clare and Tommy. The moon + was near the full and shining clear, so that they could perfectly see the + state it was in. Most of its windows were broken; its roof was like the + back of a very old horse; its chimney-pots were jagged and stumped with + fracture; from one of them, by its entangled string, the skeleton of a + kite hung half-way down the front. But, notwithstanding such signs of + neglect, the red-brick wall and the wrought-iron gate, both seven feet + high, that shut the place off from the street, stood in perfect aged + strength. The moment they saw it, the house seemed to say to them, + “There's nobody here: come in!” but the gate and the wall said, “Begone!” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0019" id="link2HCH0019"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XIX. The blacksmith and his forge. + </h2> + <p> + At the end of the wall was a rough boarded fence, in contact with it, and + reaching, some fifty yards or so, to a hovel in which a blacksmith, of + unknown antecedents, had taken possession of a forsaken forge, and did + what odd jobs came in his way. The boys went along the fence till they + came to the forge, where, looking in, they saw the blacksmith working his + bellows. To one with the instincts of Clare's birth and breeding, he did + not look a desirable acquaintance. Tommy was less fastidious, but he felt + that the scowl on the man's brows boded little friendliness. Clare, + however, who hardly knew what fear was, did not hesitate to go in, for he + was drawn as with a cart-rope by the glow of the fire, and the sparks + which, as they gazed, began, like embodied joys, to fly merrily from the + iron. Tommy followed, keeping Clare well between him and the black-browed + man, who rained his blows on the rosy iron in his pincers, as if he hated + it. + </p> + <p> + “What do you want, gutter-toads?” he cried, glancing up and seeing them + approach. “This ain't a hotel.” + </p> + <p> + “But it's a splendid fire,” rejoined Clare, looking into his face with a + wan smile, “and we're so cold!” + </p> + <p> + “What's that to me!” returned the man, who, savage about something, was + ready to quarrel with anything. “I didn't make my fire to warm little + devils that better had never been born!” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir,” answered Clare; “but I don't think we'd better not have been + born. We're both cold, and nobody but Tommy knows how hungry I am; but + your fire is so beautiful that, if you would let us stand beside it a + minute or two, we wouldn't at all mind.” + </p> + <p> + “Mind, indeed! Mind what, you preaching little humbug?” + </p> + <p> + “Mind being born, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you say <i>sir</i> to me? Don't you see I'm a working man?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, and that's why. I think we ought to say <i>sir</i> and <i>ma'am</i> + to every one that can do something we can't. Tommy and I can't make iron + do what we please, and you can, sir! It would be a grand thing for us if + we could!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, a grand thing, no doubt!—Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Because then we could get something to eat, and somewhere to lie down.” + </p> + <p> + “Could you? Look at me, now! I can do the work of two men, and can't get + work for half a man!” + </p> + <p> + “That's a sad pity!” said Clare. “I wish I had work! Then I would bring + you something to eat.” + </p> + <p> + The man did not tell them why he had not work enough—that his + drunkenness, and the bad ways to which it had brought him, with the fact + that he so often dawdled over the work that was given him, caused people + to avoid him. + </p> + <p> + “Who said I hadn't enough to eat? I ain't come to that yet, young 'un! + What made you say that?” + </p> + <p> + “Because when I had work, I had plenty to eat; and now that I have nothing + to do, I have nothing to eat. It's well I haven't work now, though,” added + Clare with a sigh, “for I'm too tired to do any. Please may I sit on this + heap of ashes?” + </p> + <p> + “Sit where you like, so long 's you keep out o' my way. I 'ain't got + nothing to give you but a bar of iron. I'll toast one for you if you would + like a bite.” + </p> + <p> + “No, thank you, sir,” answered Clare, with a smile. “I'm afraid it + wouldn't be digestible. They say toasted cheese ain't. I wish I had a try + though!” + </p> + <p> + “You're a comical shaver, you are!” said the blacksmith. “You'll come to + the gallows yet, if you're a good boy! Them Sunday-schools is doin' a heap + for the gallows!—That ain't your brother?” + </p> + <p> + By this time Tommy had begun to feel at home with the blacksmith, from + whose face the cloud had lifted a little, so that he looked less + dangerous. He had edged nearer to the fire, and now stood in the light of + it. + </p> + <p> + “No,” answered Clare, with an odd doubtfulness in his tone. “I ought to + say <i>yes</i>, perhaps, for all men are my brothers; but I mean I haven't + any particular one of my very own.” + </p> + <p> + “That ain't no pity; he'd ha' been no better than you. I've a brother I + would choke any minute I got a chance.” + </p> + <p> + While they talked, the blacksmith had put his iron in the fire, and again + stood blowing the bellows, when his attention was caught by the gestures + of the little red-eyed imp, Tommy, who was making rapid signs to him, + touching his forehead with one finger, nodding mysteriously, and pointing + at Clare with the thumb of his other hand, held close to his side. He + sought to indicate thus that his companion was an innocent, whom nobody + must mind. In the blacksmith Tommy saw one of his own sort, and the + blacksmith saw neither in Tommy nor in Clare any reason to doubt the hint + given him. Not the less was he inclined to draw out the idiot. + </p> + <p> + “Why do you let him follow you about, if he ain't your brother?” he said. + “He ain't nice to look at!” + </p> + <p> + “I want to make him nice,” answered Clare, “and then he'll be nice to look + at. You mustn't mind him, please, sir. He's a very little boy, and 'ain't + been well brought up. His granny ain't a good woman—at least not + very, you know, Tommy!” he added apologetically. + </p> + <p> + “She's a damned old sinner!” said Tommy stoutly. + </p> + <p> + The man laughed. + </p> + <p> + “Ha, ha, my chicken! you know a thing or two!” he said, as he took his + iron from the fire, and laid it again on the anvil. + </p> + <p> + But besides the brother he would so gladly strangle, there was an idiot + one whom he had loved a little and teazed so much, that, when he died, his + conscience was moved. He felt therefore a little tender toward the idiot + before him. He bethought himself also that his job would soon be at a + stage where the fewer the witnesses the better, for he was executing a + commission for certain burglars of his acquaintance. He would do no more + that night! He had money in his pocket, and he wanted a drink! + </p> + <p> + “Look here, cubs!” he said; “if you 'ain't got nowhere to go to, I don't + mind if you sleep here. There ain't no bed but the bed of the forge, nor + no blankets but this leather apron: you may have them, for you can't do + them no sort of harm. I don't mind neither if you put a shovelful of slack + and a little water now and then on the fire; and if you give it a blow or + two with the bellows now and then, you won't be stone-dead afore the + mornin'!—Don't be too free with the coals, now, and don't set the + shed on fire, and take the bread out of my poor innocent mouth. Mind what + I tell you, and be good boys.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, sir,” said Clare. “I thought you would be kind to us! I've one + friend, a bull, that's very good to me. So is Jonathan. He's a horse. The + bull's name is Nimrod. He wants to gore always, but he's never cross with + me.” + </p> + <p> + The blacksmith burst into a roar of laughter at the idiotic speech. Then + he covered the fire with coal, threw his apron over Clare's head, and + departed, locking the door of the smithy behind him. + </p> + <p> + The boys looked at each other. Neither spoke. Tommy turned to the bellows, + and began to blow. + </p> + <p> + “Ain't you warm yet?” said Clare, who had seen his mother careful over the + coals. + </p> + <p> + “No, I ain't. I want a blaze.” + </p> + <p> + “Leave the fire alone. The coal is the smith's, and he told us not to + waste it.” + </p> + <p> + “He ain't no count!” said Tommy, as heartless as any grown man or woman + set on pleasure. + </p> + <p> + “He has given us a place to be warm and sleep in! It would be a shame to + do anything he didn't like. Have you no conscience, Tommy?” + </p> + <p> + “No,” said Tommy, who did not know conscience from copper. The germ of it + no doubt lay in the God-part of him, but it lay deep. Tommy—no worse + than many a boy born of better parents—was like a hill full of + precious stones, that grows nothing but a few little dry shrubs, and + shoots out cold sharp rocks every here and there. + </p> + <p> + “If you have no conscience,” answered Clare, “one must serve for both—as + far as it will reach! Leave go of that bellows, or I'll make you.” + </p> + <p> + Tommy let the lever go, turned his back, and wandered, in such dudgeon as + he was capable of, to the other side of the shed. + </p> + <p> + “Hello!” he cried, “here's a door!—and it ain't locked, it's only + bolted! Let's go and see!” + </p> + <p> + “You may if you like,” answered Clare, “but if you touch anything of the + blacksmith's, I'll be down on you.” + </p> + <p> + “All right!” said Tommy, and went out to see if there was anything to be + picked up. + </p> + <p> + Clare got on the stone hearth of the forge, and lay down in the hot ashes, + too far gone with hunger to care for the clothes that were almost beyond + caring for. He was soon fast asleep; and warmth and sleep would do nearly + as much for him as food. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0020" id="link2HCH0020"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XX. Tommy reconnoitres. + </h2> + <p> + Tommy, out in the moonlight, found himself in a waste yard, scattered over + with bits of iron, mostly old and rusty. It was not an interesting place, + for it was not likely to afford him anything to eat. Yet, with the + instinct of the human animal, he went shifting and prying and nosing about + everywhere. Presently he heard a curious sound, which he recognized as + made by a hen. More stealthily yet he went creeping hither and thither, + feeling here and feeling there, in the hope of laying his hand on the fowl + asleep. Urged by his natural impulse to forage, he had forgotten Clare's + warning. His hand did find her, and had it been his grandmother instead of + Clare in the smithy, he would at once have broken the bird's neck before + she could cry out; but with the touch of her feathers came the thought of + Clare, and by this time he understood that what Clare said, Clare would + do. + </p> + <p> + He had some knowledge of fowls; he had heard too much talk about them at + his grandmother's not to know something of their habits; and finding she + sat so still, he concluded that under her might be eggs. To his delight it + was so. The hen belonged to a house at some distance, and had wandered + from it, in obedience to the secretive instinct of animal maternity, + strong in some hens, to seek a hidden shelter for her offspring. This she + had found in the smith's yard, beneath the mould-board of a plough that + had lain there for years. Slipping his hand under her, Tommy found five + eggs. In greedy haste he took them, every one. + </p> + <p> + I must do him the justice to say that his first impulse was to dart with + them to Clare. But before he had taken a step toward him, again he + remembered his threat. With the eggs inside him, he could run the risk; he + would not mind a few blows—not much; but if he took them to Clare, + the unbearable thing was, that he would assuredly give every one of them + back to the hen. He was an idiot, and Tommy was there to look after him; + but, in looking after Clare, was Tommy to neglect himself? If Clare would + not eat the eggs Tommy carried him, as most certainly he would not, the + best thing was for Tommy to eat them himself! What a good thing that it + was no use to steal for Clare! The steal would be all for himself! Not a + step from the spot did Tommy move till he had sucked every one of the five + eggs. But he made one mistake: he threw away the shells. + </p> + <p> + When he had sucked them, he found himself much lighter-hearted, but, alas, + nearly as hungry as before! The spirit of research began again to move + him: where were eggs, what might there not be beside? + </p> + <p> + The moon was nearly at the full; the smith's yard was radiantly + illuminated. But even the moon could lend little enchantment to a scene + where nothing was visible but rusty, broken, deserted, despairful pieces + of old iron. Tommy lifted his eyes and looked further. + </p> + <p> + The enclosure was of small extent, bounded on one side by the garden wall + of the house they had just passed, and at the bottom by a broken fence, + dividing it from a piece of waste land that probably belonged to the + house. As he roamed about, Tommy spied a great heap of old iron piled up + against the wall, and made for it, in the hope of enlarging his horizon. + He scrambled to the top, and looked over. His gaze fell right into a big + but, full of dark water. Twice that evening he met the same horror! There + was a legendary report, though he had not heard it, I fancy, that his + mother drowned herself instead of him: she fell in, and he was fished out. + Whether this was the origin of his fear or not, so far from getting down + by means of the water-but, Tommy dared not cross at that point. With much + trembling he got on the top of the wall, turned his back on the butt, and + ran along like a cat, in search of a place where he could descend into the + garden. He went right to the end, round the corner, and half-way along the + bottom before he found one. There he came to a doorway that had been + solidly walled up on the outside, while the door was left in position on + the inside—ready for use when the court of chancery should have + decided to whom the house belonged. Its frame was flush with the wall, so + that its bolts and lock afforded Tommy foothold enough to descend, and + confidence of being able to get up again. + </p> + <p> + He landed in a moonlit wilderness—such a wilderness as a deserted + garden speedily becomes, the wealth in the soil converting it the sooner + to a savage chaos. Full of the impulse of discovery, and the hope of + presenting himself with importance to Clare as the bringer of good + tidings, Tommy forced his way through or crept under the overgrown bushes, + until he reached a mossy rather than gravelly walk, where it was more easy + to advance. It led him to the house. + </p> + <p> + Had he been a boy of any imagination, he would have shuddered at the + thought of attempting an entrance. All the windows had outside shutters. + Those of the ground floor were closed—except one that swung to and + fro, and must have swung in many a wind since the house was abandoned. The + moon shone with a dull whitish gleam on the dusty windows of the first and + second stories, and on the great dormers that shot out from the slope of + the roof, and cast strange shadows upon it. The door to the garden had had + a porch of trellis-work, over which jasmine and other creeping plants were + trained; but whether anything of the porch was left, no one could have + told in that thicket of creepers, interlaced and matted by antagonist + forces of wind and growth so that not a hint of door was visible. Clearly + there was nobody within. + </p> + <p> + Tommy sought the window with the open shutter. Through the dirty glass, + and the reflection of the moon, he could see nothing. He tried the sash, + but could not stir it. He went round the corner to one end of the house, + and saw another door. But an enemy stepped between: the moon shone + suddenly up from the ground. In a hollow of the pavement had gathered a + pool from the drip of the neglected gutters, and out of its hidden depth + the staring round looked at him. It was the third time Tommy's nerves had + been shaken that night, and he could stand no more. At the awful vision he + turned and fled, fell, and rose and fled again. It was not imagination in + Tommy; it was an undefined, inexplicable horror, that must have had a + cause, but could have no reason. Young as he was he had already more than + once looked on the face of death, and had felt no awe; he had listened to + the gruesomest of tales, told not altogether without art, and had never + moved a hair Only one material and two spiritual things had power with + him; the one material thing was hunger, the two spiritual things were a + feeble love for Clare, and a strong horror of water of any seeming depth. + Now a new element was added to this terror by the meddling of the moon in + the fiendish mystery—the secret of which must, I think, have been + the bottomless depth she gave the water. + </p> + <p> + He rushed down the garden. With frightful hindrance from the overgrowth, + he found the prisoned door by strange perversion become a ladder, gained + by it the top of the wall, and sped along as if pursued by an incarnate + dread. Horror of horrors! all at once the moon again looked up at him from + below: he was within a yard or two of the big water-butt! Right up to it + he must go, for, close to it, on the other side of the wall, was the heap + of iron by which alone he could get down. He tightened every nerve for the + effort. He assured himself that the thing would be over in a moment; that + the water was quiet, and could not follow him; that presently he would + find himself in the smithy by the warm forge-fire. The scaring necessity + was, that he must stoop and kneel right over the water-but, in order to + send his legs in advance down the wall to the top of the mound. It was a + moment of agony. That very moment, with an appalling unearthly cry, + something dark, something hideous, something of inconceivable ghastliness, + as it seemed to Tommy, sprang right out of the water into the air. He + tumbled from the wall among the iron, and there lay. + </p> + <p> + The stolen eggs were avenged. The hen, feverish and unhappy from the loss + of her hope of progeny, had gone to the butt to sip a little water. Tommy, + appearing on the wall above her, startled her. She, flying up with a + screech, startled Tommy, and became her own unwitting avenger. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0021" id="link2HCH0021"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XXI. Tommy is found and found out. + </h2> + <p> + When Clare woke from his first sleep, which he did within an hour—for + he was too hungry to sleep straight on, and the door, imperfectly closed + by Tommy, had come open, and let in a cold wind with the moonlight—he + raised himself on his elbow, and peered from his stone shelf into the + dreary hut. He could not at once tell where he was, but when he + remembered, his first thought was Tommy. He looked about for him. Tommy + was nowhere. Then he saw the open door, and remembered he had gone out. + Surely it was time he had come back! Stiff and sore, he turned on his + longitudinal axis, crept down from the forge, and went out shivering to + look for his imp. The moon shone radiant on the rusty iron, and the + glamour of her light rendered not a few of its shapes and fragments + suggestive of cruel torture. Picking his way among spikes and corners and + edges, he walked about the hideous wilderness searching for Tommy, afraid + to call for fear of attracting attention. The hen too was walking about, + disconsolate, but she took no notice of him, neither did the sight of her + give him any hint or rouse in him the least suspicion: how could he + suspect one so innocent and troubled for the avenging genius through whom + Tommy's white face lay upturned to the white moon! Her egg-shells lay + scattered, each a ghastly point in the moonshine, each a silent witness to + the deed that had been done. Tommy scattered and forgot them; the moon + gathered and noted them. But they told Clare nothing, either of Tommy's + behaviour or of Tommy himself. + </p> + <p> + He came at last to the heap of metal, and there lay Tommy, caught in its + skeleton protrusions. A shiver went through him when he saw the pallid + face, and the dark streak of blood across it. He concluded that in trying + to get over the wall he had failed and fallen back. He climbed and took + him in his arms. Tommy was no weight for Clare, weak with hunger as he + was, to carry to the smithy. He laid him on the hearth, near the fire, and + began to blow it up. The roaring of the wind in the fire did not wake him. + Clare went on blowing. The heat rose and rose, and brought the boy to + himself at last, in no comfortable condition. He opened his eyes, + scrambled to his feet, and stared wildly around him. + </p> + <p> + “Where is it?” he cried. + </p> + <p> + “Where's what?” rejoined Clare, leaving the bellows, and taking a hold of + him lest he should fall off. + </p> + <p> + “The head that flew out of the water-but,” answered Tommy with a shudder. + </p> + <p> + “Have you lost your senses, Tommy?” remonstrated Clare. “I found you lying + on a heap of old iron against the wall, with the moon shining on you.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, yes!—the moon! She jumped out of the water-but, and got a hold + of me as I was getting down. I knew she would!” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't think you were such a fool, Tommy!” said Clare. + </p> + <p> + “Well, you hadn't the pluck to go yourself! You stopt in!” cried Tommy, + putting his hand to his head, but more sorely hurt that an idiot should + call him a fool. + </p> + <p> + “Come and let me see, Tommy,” said Clare. + </p> + <p> + He wanted to find out if he was much hurt; but Tommy thought he wanted to + go to the water-but, and screamed. + </p> + <p> + “Hold your tongue, you little idiot!” cried Clare. “You'll have all the + world coming after us! They'll think I'm murdering you!” + </p> + <p> + Tommy restrained himself, and gradually recovering, told Clare what he had + discovered, but not what he had found. + </p> + <p> + “There's something yellow on your jacket! What is it?” said Clare. “I do + believe—yes, it is!—you've been eating an egg! Now I remember! + I saw egg-shells, more than two or three, lying in the yard, and the poor + hen walking about looking for her eggs! You little rascal! You pig of a + boy! I won't thrash you this time, because you've fetched your own + thrashing. But—!” + </p> + <p> + He finished the sentence by shaking his fist in Tommy's face, and looking + as black at him as he was able. + </p> + <p> + “I do believe it was the hen herself that frighted you!” he added. “She + served you right, you thief!” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't know there was any harm,” said Tommy, pretending to sob. + </p> + <p> + “Why didn't you bring me my share, then?” + </p> + <p> + “'Cos I knowed you'd ha' made me give 'em back to the hen!” + </p> + <p> + “And you didn't know there was any harm, you lying little brute!” + </p> + <p> + “No, I didn't.” + </p> + <p> + “Now, look here, Tommy! If you don't mind what I tell you, you and I part + company. One of us two must be master, and I will, or you must tramp. Do + you hear me?” + </p> + <p> + “I can't do without wictuals!” whimpered Tommy. “I didn't come wi' <i>you</i> + a purpose to be starved to death!” + </p> + <p> + “I dare say you didn't; but when I starve, you must starve too; and when I + eat, you shall have the first mouthful. What did you come with me for?” + </p> + <p> + “'Acos you was the strongest,” answered Tommy, “an' I reckoned you would + get things from coves we met!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I'm not going to get things from coves we meet, except they give + them to me. But have patience, Tommy, and I'll get you all you can eat. + You must give me time, you know! I 'ain't got work yet!—Come here. + Lie down close to me, and we'll go to sleep.” + </p> + <p> + The urchin obeyed, pillowed his head on Clare's chest, and went fast + asleep. + </p> + <p> + Clare slept too after a while, but the necessities of his relation to + Tommy were fast making a man of him. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0022" id="link2HCH0022"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XXII. The smith in a rage. + </h2> + <p> + They had not slept long, when they were roused by a hideous clamour and + rattling at the door, and thunderous blows on the wooden sides of the + shed. Clare woke first, and rubbed his eyelids, whose hinges were rusted + with sleep. He was utterly perplexed with the uproar and romage. The cabin + seemed enveloped in a hurricane of kicks, and the air was in a tumult of + howling and brawling, of threats and curses, whose inarticulateness made + them sound bestial. There never came pause long enough for Clare to answer + that they were locked in, and that the smith must have the key in his + pocket. But when Tommy came to himself, which he generally did the instant + he woke, but not so quickly this time because of his fall, he understood + at once. + </p> + <p> + “It's the blacksmith! He's roaring drunk!” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Let's be off, Clare! The devil 'ill be to pay when he gets in! He'll + murder us in our beds!” + </p> + <p> + “We ought to let him into his own house if we can,” replied Clare, rising + and going to the door. It was well for him that he found no way of opening + it, for every instant there came a kick against it that threatened to + throw it from lock and hinges at once. He protested his inability, but the + madman thought he was refusing to admit him, and went into a tenfold fury, + calling the boys hideous names, and swearing he would set the shed on fire + if they did not open at once. The boys shouted, but the man had no sense + to listen with, and began such a furious battery on the door, with his + whole person for a ram, that Tommy made for the rear, and Clare followed—prudent + enough, however, in all his haste, to close the back-door behind them. + </p> + <p> + Tommy was in front, and led the way to the bottom of the yard, and over + the fence into the waste ground, hoping to find some point in that quarter + where he could mount the wall. He could not face the water-but—with + the moon in it, staring out of the immensity of the lower world. He ran + and doubled and spied, but could find no foothold. Least of all was ascent + possible at the spot where the door stood on the other side; the bricks + were smoother than elsewhere. He turned the corner and ran along a narrow + lane, Clare still following, for he thought Tommy knew what he was about; + but Tommy could find no encouragement to attempt scaling the wall. They + might have fled into the fields that lay around; but the burrowing + instinct was strong, and the deserted house drew them. Then Clare, finding + Tommy at fault, bethought him that the little rascal had got up by the + heap on which he discovered him, and must be afraid to go that way again. + He faced about and ran, in his turn become leader. Tommy wheeled also, and + followed, but with misgiving. When they reached the farther corner of the + bottom wall, they stopped and peeped round before they would turn it: they + might run against the blacksmith in chase of them! But the sound of his + continued hammering at the door came to them, and they went on. They + crossed the fence and ran again, ran faster, for now every step brought + them nearer to their danger: the heap of iron lay between them and the + smithy, and any moment the smith might burst into the shed, rush through, + and be out upon them. + </p> + <p> + They reached the heap. Clare sprang up; and Tommy, urged on the one side + by the fear of the drunken smith, and drawn on the other by the dread of + being abandoned by Clare, climbed shuddering after him. + </p> + <p> + “Mind the water-but, Clare!” he gasped; “an' gi' me a hand up.” + </p> + <p> + Clare had already turned on the top of the wall to help him. + </p> + <p> + “Now let me go first!” said Tommy, the moment he had his foot on it. “I + know how to get down.” + </p> + <p> + He scudded along the wall, glad to have Clare between him and the butt. + Clare followed swiftly. He was not so quick on the cat-promenade as Tommy, + but he had a good head, and was spurred by the apprehension of being seen + up there in the moonlight. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0023" id="link2HCH0023"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XXIII. Treasure trove. + </h2> + <p> + In a few moments they were safe in the thicket at the foot of what had + been their enemy and was now their friend—the garden-wall. How many + things and persons there are whose other sides are altogether friendly! + These are their true selves, and we must be true to get at them. + </p> + <p> + Tommy again took the lead, though with a fresh sinking of the heart + because of that other place with the moon in it. Through the tangled + thicket they made or found their way—and there stood the house, with + the moon looking down on its roof, and the drunkard's thunder troubling + her still pale light—her <i>moon-thinking</i>. But for the noise and + the haste, Clare would have been frightened at them. There seemed some + secret between the house and the moon which they were determined no one + else should share. They were of one mind to terrify man or boy who should + attempt to cross the threshold! There was no time, however, to heed such + fancies. “If we could only get in without spoiling anything!” thought + Clare. Once in, they would hurt nothing, take but the shelter and rest + lying there of no good to anybody, and leave them there all the same when + they had done with them! + </p> + <p> + While they stood looking at the house, the thundering at the door of the + smithy ceased. Presently they heard voices in altercation. One voice was + that of the smith, quieter than when last they heard it, but ill-tempered + and growling as at first. The other seemed that of a woman. She had been + able so far to quiet him, probably, that he remembered he had the key in + his pocket; for they thought they heard the door of the smithy open. Then + all was silent, and the outcasts pursued their quest of an entrance to the + house. + </p> + <p> + Clare went ferreting as Tommy had done. He also tried to get a peep + through the window with the swinging shutter, but had no better success + than Tommy. Then he started to go round the corner next the blacksmith's + yard. + </p> + <p> + “Look out!” cried Tommy in a loud whisper, when he saw where he was going. + </p> + <p> + “Why?” asked Clare. + </p> + <p> + “Because there's a horrible hole there, full of water,” answered Tommy. + </p> + <p> + “I'll keep a look out,” returned Clare, and went. + </p> + <p> + When he was about half-way along the end of the house, he heard a noise he + did not understand, and stopped to listen. Some one seemed moving + somewhere. + </p> + <p> + Then came a kind of scrambling sound, and presently the noise of a great + watery splash. Clare shivered from head to foot. + </p> + <p> + “Something has fallen into the hole Tommy mentioned!” he said to himself, + and ran on to see. A few steps brought him to what Tommy had taken for a + great hole. It was nothing but a pool of rain-water: the splash could not + have come from that! + </p> + <p> + Then it occurred to him that the water-but could not be far off. He forced + his way through shrubs of various kinds, and reaching the wall, went back + along it until he came to the butt. A ray of moonlight showed him that the + side of it was wet, as if the water had lately come over the edge. He + looked about for some means of getting a peep into the huge thing. It + stood on a brick stand, of which it left a narrow edge clear, but on this + edge the bulge of the butt would not permit him to mount. With the help of + a small tree, however, he got on the wall, which was better. + </p> + <p> + Spying into the butt, he could see nothing at first, for a chimney was now + between it and the moon. A moment more, however, and he descried something + white in the dull iron gleam of the water. It was under the water, but + floating near the surface. He lay down on the wall, plunged his arm into + the butt, laid hold of it, and drew it out. It was a little heavy for the + size, for what should it be but a tiny baby, in a flannel night-gown, + which, as he drew it out, sent back little noisy streams into the butt! It + lay perfectly still in his arms, he did not know whether dead or alive, + but he thought it could hardly be drowned so soon after the splash. It had + been drugged, and the antagonism of the two means employed to kill it was + probably the saving of its life. + </p> + <p> + Clare stood in stony bewilderment. What was he to do? Certainly not to go + after the mother! The first thing was to get it down from the wall. That + he could easily have done on the other side, by the heap; but that was the + side whence it must have been thrown, and they would be but in worse + difficulty there! He must get the baby down inside the wall! With at least + one arm occupied, the tree-way was impracticable. There was only one other + way, and that full of danger! But where there is only one way, that way + must be taken, and Clare did not hesitate. He started along the top of the + wall, with the poor unconscious germ of humanity in his arms. He had + lifted it from its watery coffin, out of the cold arms of death, up into + the clear air of life! True, that air was cold, and filled only with + moonshine; but there was the house whose seal might be broken! and the + moon saw the sun making warm the under world! Along the narrow way, + through the still, keen glimmer, unseen, probably, by any eye in the + sleeping town, he bore his burden, speeding as fast as he dared, for he + must not set a foot down amiss! + </p> + <p> + Had any one caught sight of him, what a commotion would not the tale have + roused—of the spectre of a boy with a baby in his arms, gliding + noiseless in the moon and the middle night, along the top of the high + brick wall of a deserted house, where no one had lived within the memory + of man! + </p> + <p> + When he reached the door-ladder, he found descent difficult but possible. + It was more difficult to make his way through the tangled bushes without + scratching the baby, which, after all, might, alas, be beyond hurt! He + held it close to his bosom, life coaxing life to “stay a little.” + </p> + <p> + Thus laden, he appeared before Tommy, who had heard the splash, and + thought Clare had fallen into the deep hole, but had not had courage to go + and see, partly from the fear of verifying his fear, but more from his + horror of the watery abyss. He stood trembling where Clare had left him. + </p> + <p> + To save the baby was now Clare's only thought. The baby was now the one + thing in the universe! If only the light that shone on it were that of the + hot sun instead of the cold moon, which looked far more like killing than + bringing to life! “And,” thought Clare with himself, “there ain't much + more heat in my body than in that shivery moon!” But the sun would wake + and mount the sky, and send the moon down, and all would be different! + Only, if nothing could be done in the meantime, where would baby be by + then! + </p> + <p> + “Here, Tommy,” he cried, “come and see what I found in the water-butt.” + </p> + <p> + At the word, Tommy turned to flee; but confidence in Clare, and curiosity + to see what, in Clare's arms, could hardly hurt him, prevailed, and he + drew near cautiously. + </p> + <p> + “Lord, it's a kid!” he cried. + </p> + <p> + “It's not a kid,” said Clare, who had no slang; “it's a baby!” + </p> + <p> + “Well! ain't a baby a kid, just?” + </p> + <p> + Tommy did not know that the word stood for anything else than a child, + which was indeed its meaning long before it was specially applied to the + young of the goat. A <i>kidnapper</i> or <i>kidnabber</i> is a stealer of + children. Mr. Skeat tells us that <i>kid</i> meant at first just a young + one. + </p> + <p> + “You can't tell me what to do with it, I'm afraid, Tommy!” said Clare. + </p> + <p> + Already it was as if from all eternity he had loved this helpless little + waif of Time, with its small, thin, blue-gray, gin-drugged face; this tiny + life, so hopeless, so miserable, yet so uncomplaining: the thing that was, + was the thing for it to bear; it had come into the world to bear it! Ready + to die, even Death would not have it; it must live where it was not + wanted, where it was not welcome! + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I can!” answered Tommy with evil promptitude. “Put it in again.” + </p> + <p> + “But that would drown it, you know, Tommy!” answered Clare, treating him + like the child he was not. “We want it to live, Tommy!” + </p> + <p> + His tenderness for the baby made him speak with foolish gentleness. + </p> + <p> + “No, we don't!” returned Tommy. “What business has <i>it</i> to live, when + we can't get nothing to eat?” + </p> + <p> + Clare held faster to the baby with one arm, and with the fist of the other + struck straight out at Tommy, hit him between the eyes, and knocked him + flat. It was a miserable thing to have to do, and it made Clare miserable, + for Tommy was not half his size, and was still suffering from his fall on + the iron. But then the dying baby was not half Tommy's size, and any + milder argument would have been lost on him: he was thus sent on the way + to understand that the baby had rights; and that if the baby could not + enforce them, there was one in the world that could and would. Never in + his life did Clare show more instinctive wisdom than in that knock-down + blow to the hardly blamable little devil! + </p> + <p> + Tommy got up at once. He was not much hurt, for he had a hard head though + he was easily knocked over. From that moment he began to respect Clare. He + had loved him before in a way; he had patronized him, and feared to offend + him because he was stronger than he; but until now he had had no respect + for him, believing little Tommy a much finer fellow than big Clare. There + are thousands for whom a blow is a better thing than expostulation, + persuasion, or any sort of kindness. They are such that nothing but a blow + will set their door ajar for love to get in. That is why hardships, + troubles, disappointments, and all kinds of pain and suffering, are sent + to so many of us. We are so full of ourselves, and feel so grand, that we + should never come to know what poor creatures we are, never begin to do + better, but for the knock-down blows that the loving God gives us. We do + not like them, but he does not spare us for that. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0024" id="link2HCH0024"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XXIV. Justifiable burglary. + </h2> + <p> + Tommy rose rubbing his forehead, and crying quietly. He did not dare say a + word. It was well for him he did not. Clare, perplexed and anxious about + the baby, was in no mood to accept annoyance from Tommy. But the urchin + remaining silent, the elder boy's indignation began immediately to settle + down. + </p> + <p> + The infant lay motionless, its little heart beating doubtfully, like the + ticking of a clock off the level, as if the last beat might be indeed the + last. + </p> + <p> + “We <i>must</i> get into the house, Tommy!” said Clare. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, Clare,” answered Tommy, very meekly, and went off like a shot to + renew investigation at the other end of the house. He was back in a + moment, his face as radiant with success as such a face could be, with + such a craving little body under it. + </p> + <p> + “Come, come,” he cried. “We can get in quite easy. I ha' <i>been</i> in!” + </p> + <p> + The keen-eyed monkey had found a cellar-window, sunk a little below the + level of the ground—a long, narrow, horizontal slip, with a grating + over its small area not fastened down. He had lifted it, and pushed open + the window, which went inward on rusty hinges—so rusty that they + would not quite close again. That he had been in was a lie. <i>He</i> knew + better than go first! He belonged to the school of <i>No. 1!</i>—all + mean beggars. + </p> + <p> + Clare hastened after him. + </p> + <p> + “Gi' me the kid, an' you get in; you can reach up for it better, 'cause + ye're taller,” said Tommy. + </p> + <p> + “Is it much of a drop?” asked Clare. + </p> + <p> + “Nothing much,” answered Tommy. + </p> + <p> + Clare handed him the baby, instructing him how to hold it, and threatening + him if he hurt it; then laid himself on his front, shoved his legs across + the area through the window, and followed with his body. Holding on to the + edge of the window-sill, he let his feet as far down as he could, then + dropped, and fell on a heap of coals, whence he tumbled to the floor of + the cellar. + </p> + <p> + “You should have told me of the coals!” he said, rising, and calling up + through the darkness. + </p> + <p> + “I forgot,” answered Tommy. + </p> + <p> + “Give me the baby,” said Clare. + </p> + <p> + When Tommy took the baby, he renewed that moment, and began to cherish the + sense of an injury done him by the poor helpless thing. He did not pinch + it, only because he dared not, lest it should cry. When he heard Clare + fall on the coals, and then heard him call up from the depth of the + cellar, he was greatly tempted to turn with it to the other end of the + house, and throw it in the pool, then make for the wall and the fields, + leaving Clare to shift for himself. But he durst not go near the pool, and + Clare would be sure to get out again and be after him! so he stood with + the hated creature in his unprotective arms. When Clare called for it, he + got into the shallow area, and pushed the baby through the window, + grasping the extreme of its garment, and letting it hang into the darkness + of the cellar, head downward. I believe then the baby was sick, for, a + moment after, and before Clare could get a hold of it, it began to cry. + The sound thrilled him with delight. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, the darling!—Can't you let her down a bit farther, Tommy?” he + said, with suppressed eagerness. + </p> + <p> + He had climbed on the heap of coals, and was stretching up his arms to + receive her. In the faint glimmer from the diffused light of the moon, he + could just distinguish the window, blocked up by Tommy; the baby he could + not see. + </p> + <p> + “No, I can't,” answered Tommy. “Catch! There!” + </p> + <p> + So saying he yielded to his spite, and waiting no sign of preparedness on + the part of Clare, let go his hold, and dropped the little one. It fell on + Clare and knocked him over; but he clasped it to him as he fell, and they + hurtled to the bottom of the coals without much damage. + </p> + <p> + “I have her!” he cried as he got up. “Now you come yourself, Tommy.” + </p> + <p> + He had known no baby but his lost sister, and thought of all babies as + girls. + </p> + <p> + “You'll catch me, won't you, Clare?” said Tommy. + </p> + <p> + “The thing you've done once you can do again! I can't set down the baby to + catch you!” replied the unsuspicious Clare, and turned to seek an exit + from the cellar. He had not had time yet to wonder how Tommy had got out. + </p> + <p> + Tommy came tumbling on the top of the coals: he dared not be left with the + water-but and the pool and the moon. + </p> + <p> + “Where are you, Clare?” he called. + </p> + <p> + Clare answered him from the top of the stone stair that led to the cellar, + and Tommy was soon at his heels. Going along a dark passage, where they + had to feel their way, they arrived at the kitchen. The loose outside + shutter belonged to it, and as it was open, a little of the moonlight came + in. The place looked dreary enough and cold enough with its damp + brick-floor and its rusty range; but at least they were out of the air, + and out of sight of the moon! If only they had some of that coal alight! + </p> + <p> + “I don't see as we're much better off!” said Tommy. “I'm as cold as pigs' + trotters!” + </p> + <p> + “Then what must baby be like!” said Clare, whose heart was brimful of + anxiety for his charge. It seemed to him he had never known misery till + now. Life or death for the baby—and he could do nothing! He was cold + enough himself, what with hunger, and the night, and the wet and deadly + cold little body in his arms; but whatever discomfort he felt, it seemed + not himself but the baby that was feeling it; he imputed it all to the + baby, and pitied the baby for the cold he felt himself. + </p> + <p> + “We needn't stay here, though,” he said. “There must be better places in + the house! Let's try and find a bedroom!” + </p> + <p> + “Come along!” responded Tommy. + </p> + <p> + They left the kitchen, and went into the next room. It seemed warmer, + because it had a wooden floor. There was hardly any light in it, but it + felt empty. They went up the stair. When they turned on the landing + half-way, they saw the moon shining in. They went into the first room they + came to. Such a bedroom!—larger and grander than any at the + parsonage! + </p> + <p> + “Oh baby! baby!” cried Clare, “now you'll live—won't you?” + </p> + <p> + He seemed to have his own Maly an infant again in his arms. The thought + that the place was not his, and that he might get into trouble by being + there, never came to him. Use was not theft! The room and its contents + were to him as the water and the fire which even pagans counted every man + bound to hand to his neighbour. There was the bed! Through all the cold + time it had been waiting for them! The counterpane was very dusty; and oh, + such moth-eaten blankets! But there were sheets under them, and they were + quite clean, though dingy with age! The moths—that is, their legs + and wings and dried-up bodies—flew out in clouds when they moved the + blankets. Not the less had they discovered Paradise! For the moths, they + must have found it an island of plum-cake! + </p> + <p> + I do not know the history of the house—how it came to be shut up + with so much in it. I only know it was itself shut up in chancery, and + chancery is full of moths and dust and worms. I believe nobody in the town + knew much about it—not even the thieves. It was of course said to be + haunted, which had doubtless done something for its protection. No one + knew how long it had stood thus deserted. Nobody thought of entering it, + or was aware that there was furniture in it. It was supposed to be + somebody's property, and that it was somebody's business to look after it: + whether it was looked after or not, nobody inquired. Happily for Clare and + the baby and Tommy, that was nobody's business. + </p> + <p> + With deft hands—for how often had he not seen his baby-sister + undressed!—Clare hurried off the infant's one garment, gently rubbed + her little body till it was quite dry, if not very clean, and laid her + tenderly in the heart of the blankets, among the remains and eggs and + grubs of the mothy creatures—they were not wild beasts, or even + stinging things—and covered her up, leaving a little opening for her + to breathe through. She had not cried since Clare took her; she was too + feeble to cry; but, alas, there was no question about feeding her, for he + had no food to give her, were she crying ever so much! He threw off his + clothes, and got into the mothy blankets beside her. In a few minutes he + began to glow, for there was a thick pile of woolly salvation atop of him. + He took the naked baby in his arms and held her close to his body, and + they grew warmer together. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Tommy,” he said, “you may take off your clothes, and get in on the + other side of me.” + </p> + <p> + Tommy did not need a second invitation, and in a moment they were all fast + asleep. A few months, even a few days before, it would have been a right + painful thing to Clare to lie so near a boy like Tommy, but suffering had + taken the edge off nicety and put it on humanity. The temple of the Lord + may need cleansing, but the temple of the Lord it is. Clare had in him + that same spirit which made <i>the</i> son of man go beyond the healingly + needful, and lay his hand—the Sinaitic manuscript says his <i>hands</i>—upon + the leper, where a word alone would have served for the leprosy: the hands + were for the man's heart. Repulsive danger lay in the contact, but the + flesh and bones were human, and very cold. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0025" id="link2HCH0025"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XXV. A new quest. + </h2> + <p> + Though as comfortable as one could be who so sorely lacked food, Clare + slept lightly. His baby was heavy on his mind, and he woke very early—woke + at once to the anxious thought of a boy without food, money, or friends, + and with a hungry baby. He woke, however, with a new train of reasoning in + his mind. Babies could not work; babies always had their food given them; + therefore babies who hadn't food had a right to ask for it; babies + couldn't ask for it; therefore those who had the charge of them, and + hadn't food to give them, had a right to do the asking for them. He could + not beg for himself as long as he was able to ask for work; but for baby + it was his duty to beg, because she could not wait: she would not live + till he found work. If he got work that very day, he would have to work + the whole day before he got the money for it, and baby would be dead by + that time! He crept out, so as not to awake the sleepers, and put on his + clothes. They were not dry, but they would dry when the sun rose. He did + not at all like leaving his baby with Tommy, but what was he to do? She + might as well die of Tommy as of hunger! Perhaps it might be easier! + </p> + <p> + He thought over the nature of the boy, and what it would be best to say to + him. He saw what many genial persons are slow to see, that kindness, in + its natural shape, is to certain dispositions a great barrier in the way + of learning either love or duty. With multitudes, nothing but undiluted + fear or pain or shame can open the door for love to enter. + </p> + <p> + He searched the house for a medicine-bottle, such as he had seen plenty of + at the parsonage, and found two. He chose the smaller, lest size should + provoke disinclination. Then he woke Tommy, and said to him, + </p> + <p> + “Tommy, I'm going out to get baby's breakfast.” + </p> + <p> + “Ain't you going to give <i>me</i> any? Is the kid to have <i>everything</i>?” + </p> + <p> + “Tommy!” said Clare, with a steady look in his eyes that frightened him, + “your turn will come next. You won't die of want for a day or two yet. + I'll see to you as soon as I can. Only, remember, baby comes first! I'm + going to leave her with you. You needn't take her up. You're not able to + carry her. You would let her fall. But if, when I come home, I find + anything has happened to her, <i>I'll put you in the water-butt</i>—I + WILL. And I'll do it when the moon is in it.” + </p> + <p> + Tommy pulled a hideous face, and began to yell. Clare seized him by the + throat. + </p> + <p> + “Make that noise again, you rascal, and I'll choke you. If you're good to + baby while I'm away, I won't eat a mouthful till you've had some; if + you're not good to her, you know what will happen! You've got the thing in + your own hands!” + </p> + <p> + “She'll go an' do something I can't help, an' then you'll go for to drown + me!” + </p> + <p> + Again he began to howl, but Clare checked him as before. “If you wake her + up, I'll—” He had no words, and shook him for lack of any. “I see,” + he resumed, “I shall have to lock you up in the coal-cellar till I come + back! Here! come along!” + </p> + <p> + Tommy was quiet instantly, and fell to pleading. Clare lent a gracious + ear, and yielding to Tommy's protestations, left him with his treasure, + and set out on his quest. + </p> + <p> + He got out through the kitchen, the rustiness of the fastenings of its + door delaying him a little, and over the wall by the imprisoned door, + taking care to lift as little as possible of his person above the coping + as he crossed. He dared not go along the wall in the daylight, or get down + in the smith's yard; he dropped straight to the ground. + </p> + <p> + The country was level, and casting his eyes about, he saw, at no great + distance, what looked like a farmstead. He knew cows were milked early, + but did not know what time it was. Hoping anyhow to reach the place before + the milk was put away in the pans, he set out to run straight across the + fields. But he soon found he could not run, and had to drop into a walk. + </p> + <p> + When he got into the yard, he saw a young woman carrying a foaming pail of + milk across to the dairy. He ran to her, and addressed her with his usual + “Please, ma'am;” but the pail was heavy, and she kept on without answering + him. Clare followed her, and looking into the dairy, saw an elderly woman. + </p> + <p> + “Please, ma'am, could you afford me as much fresh milk as would fill that + bottle?” he said, showing it. + </p> + <p> + “Well, my man,” she answered pleasantly, “I think we might venture as far + without fear of the workhouse! But what on earth made you bring such a + thimble of a bottle as that?” + </p> + <p> + “I have no money to pay for it, you see, ma'am; and I thought a little + bottle would be better to beg with; it wouldn't be so hard on the farmer!” + </p> + <p> + “Bless the boy! Much good a drop of milk like that will do him!” said the + woman, turning to the girl “Is it for your mother's tea?” + </p> + <p> + “No, ma'am; it's for a baby—a very little baby, ma'am!—I think + it will hold enough,” he added, giving an anxious glance at the bottle in + his hand, “to keep her alive till I get work.” + </p> + <p> + The woman looked, and her heart was drawn to the boy who stood gazing at + her with his whole solemn, pathetic yet strong face—with his wide, + clear eyes, his decided nose, large and straight, his rather long, fine + mouth, trembling with eager anxiety, and his confident chin. She saw + hunger in his grimy cheeks; she saw that his manners were those of a + gentleman, and his clothes poor enough for any tramp, though evidently not + made for a tramp. She would have concluded him escaped from cruel + guardians, for she was a reader of <i>The Family Herald</i>; but that + would not account for the baby! The baby did not tally! + </p> + <p> + “How old's the baby?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know, ma'am; she only came to us last night.” + </p> + <p> + “Who brought her?” + </p> + <p> + She imagined the boy a simpleton, and expected one of such answers as + inconvenient questions in natural history receive from nurses. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know, ma'am. I took her out of the water-butt.” + </p> + <p> + The thing grew bewildering. + </p> + <p> + “Who put her there?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know, ma'am.” + </p> + <p> + “Whose baby is she, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Mine, I think, ma'am.” + </p> + <p> + “God bless the boy!” said the woman impatiently, and stared at him + speechless. + </p> + <p> + Her daughter in the meantime had filled the phial with new milk. She + handed it to him. He grasped it eagerly. Tears of joy came in his big + hungry eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, <i>thank</i> you, ma'am!” he said. “But, please, would you tell me,” + he continued, looking from the one to the other, “how much water I must + put in the milk to make it good for baby? I know it wants water, but I + don't know how much!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, about half and half,” answered the elder woman. “'Ain't she got no + mother?” she resumed. + </p> + <p> + “I think she must have a mother, but I daresay she's a tramp,” answered + Clare. + </p> + <p> + “I don't want to give my good milk to a tramp!” she rejoined. + </p> + <p> + “<i>I</i>'m not a tramp, please, ma'am!—at least I wasn't till the + day before yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + The woman looked at him out of motherly eyes, and her heart swelled into + her bosom. + </p> + <p> + “Wouldn't you like some milk yourself?” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, ma'am!” answered Clare, with a deep sigh. + </p> + <p> + She filled a big cup from the warm milk in the pail, and held it out to + him. He took it as a man on the scaffold might a reprieve from death, half + lifted it to his lips, then let his hand sink. It trembled so, as he set + the cup down on a shelf beside him, that he spilled a little. He looked + ruefully at the drops on the brick floor. + </p> + <p> + “Please, ma'am, there's Tommy!” he faltered. + </p> + <p> + His promise to Tommy had sprung upon him like a fiery flying serpent. + </p> + <p> + “Tommy! I thought you said the baby was a girl?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, the baby's a girl; but there's Tommy as well! He's another of us.” + </p> + <p> + “Your brother, of course!” + </p> + <p> + “No, ma'am; I'm afraid he's a tramp. But there he is, you see, and I must + share with him!” + </p> + <p> + It grew more and more inexplicable! + </p> + <p> + A gruff, loud voice came from the yard. It was the farmer's. He was a + bitter-tempered man, and his dislike of tramps was almost hatred. His wife + and daughter knew that if he saw the boy he would be worse than rude to + him. + </p> + <p> + “There's the master!” cried the mother. “Drink, and make haste out of his + way.” + </p> + <p> + “If it's stealing,—” said Clare. + </p> + <p> + “Stealing! It's no stealing! The dairy's mine! I can give my milk where I + please!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, ma'am, if the milk's mine because you gave it me, it's not begging + to ask you to give me a piece of bread for it! I could take a share of + that to Tommy!” + </p> + <p> + “Run, Chris,” cried the mother, hurriedly; “take the innocent with you—round + outside the yard. Give him a hunch of bread, and let him go. For God's + sake don't let your father see him! Run, my boy, run! There's no time to + drink the milk now!” + </p> + <p> + She poured it back into the pail, and set the cup out of the way. + </p> + <p> + There was a little passage and another door, by which they left as the + farmer entered. The kick he would have given Clare with his heavy boot + would, in its consequences, have reached the baby too. The girl ran with + him to the back of the house. + </p> + <p> + “Wait a moment at that window,” she said. + </p> + <p> + Now whether it was loving-kindness all, or that she dared not take the + time to divide it, I cannot tell, but she handed Clare a whole loaf, and + that a good big one, of home-made bread, and disappeared before he could + thank her, telling him to run for his life. + </p> + <p> + He was able now. With the farmer behind, and the hungry ones before him, + he <i>must</i> run; and with the phial in his pocket and the loaf in his + hands, he <i>could</i> run. Happily the farmer did not catch sight of him. + His wife took care he should not. I believe, indeed, she got up a + brand-new quarrel with him on the spur of the moment, that he might not + have a chance. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0026" id="link2HCH0026"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XXVI. A new entrance. + </h2> + <p> + Clare sped jubilant. But soon came a check to his jubilation: it was one + thing to drop from the wall, and quite another to climb to the top of it + without the help of the door! The same moment he heard the clink of the + smith's hammer on his anvil, and to go by his yard in daylight would be to + risk too much! For what would become of them if their retreat was + discovered! He stood at the foot of the brick precipice, and stared up + with helpless eyes and failing strength. Baby was inside, hungry, and with + no better nurse than ill conditioned Tommy; her milk was in his pocket, + Tommy's bread in his hand, the insurmountable wall between him and them! + He had the daylight now, however, and there was hardly any one about: + perhaps he could find another entrance! Round the outside of the wall, + therefore, like the Midianite in the rather comical hymn, did Clare prowl + and prowl. But the wall rose straight and much too smooth wherever he + looked. Searching its face he went all along the bottom of the garden, and + then up the narrow lane between it and the garden of the next house, with + increasing fear that there was no way but by the smith's yard, and no + choice but risk it. + </p> + <p> + A dozen yards or so, however, from the end of the lane, where it took a + sharp turn before entering the street, he spied an opening in the wall—the + same from which, the night before, Tommy had returned with such a + frightened face. Clare went through, and found a narrow passage running to + the left for a short distance between two walls. At the end, half on one + side, half on the other of the second wall, lay the well that had + terrified Tommy. The wall crossed it with a low arch. On the further side + of the well was a third wall, with a space of about two feet and a half + between it and the side of the round well. Through that wall there might + be a door!—or, if not, there might be some way of getting over it! + To cross the well would be awkward, but he must do it! He tied the loaf in + his pocket-handkerchief—he was far past fastidiousness, and Tommy + knew neither the word nor the thing—and knotted the ends of it round + his neck. But his chief anxiety was not to break the bottle in his + jacket-pocket. He got on his knees on the parapet. How deep and dark the + water looked! For a moment he felt a fear of it something like Tommy's. + How was he to cross the awful gulf? It was not like a free jump; he was + hemmed in before and behind, and overhead also. But the baby drew him over + the well, as the name of Beatrice drew Dante through the fire. The baby + was waiting for him, and it had to be done! He made a cat-leap through + beneath the arch, reaching out with his hands and catching at the parapet + beyond. He did catch it, just enough of it to hold on by, so that his body + did not follow his legs into the water. Oh, how cold they found it after + his run! He held on, strained and heaved up, made a great reach across the + width of the parapet with one hand, laid hold of its outer edge, made good + his grasp on it, and drew himself out of the water, and out of the well. + </p> + <p> + He was in a narrow space, closed in with walls much higher than his head, + out of which he saw no way but that by which he had come in—across + the fearful well, that seemed, so dark was its water, to go down and down + for ever. + </p> + <p> + He felt in his pocket. If then he had found baby's bottle broken, I doubt + if Clare would ever have got out of the place, except by the door into the + next world. What little strength he had was nearly gone, and I think it + would then have gone quite. But the bottle was safe and his courage came + back. + </p> + <p> + He examined his position, and presently saw that the narrowness of his + threatened prison would make it no prison at all. He found that, by + leaning his back against one wall, pushing his feet against the opposite + wall, and making of the third wall a rack for his shoulder, he could worm + himself slowly up. It was a task for a strong man, and Clare, though + strong for his years, was not at that moment strong. But there was the + baby waiting, and here was her milk! He fell to, and, with an agony of + exertion, wriggled himself at last to the top—so exhausted that he + all but fell over on the other side. He pulled himself together, and + dropped at once into, the garden. Happier boy than Clare was not in all + England then. Hunger, wet, incipient nakedness, for he had torn his + clothes badly, were nowhere. Baby was within his reach, and the milk + within baby's! + </p> + <p> + He ran, dripping like a spaniel, to find her, and shot up the stair to the + room that held his treasure. To his joy he found both Tommy and the baby + fast asleep, Tommy tired out with the weary tramping of the day before, + and the baby still under the influence of the opiate her mother had given + her to make her drown quietly. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0027" id="link2HCH0027"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XXVII. The baby has her breakfast. + </h2> + <p> + He waked Tommy, and showed him the loaf. Tommy sprang from his lair and + snatched at it. + </p> + <p> + “No, Tommy,” said Clare, drawing back, “I can't trust you! You would eat + it all; and if I died of hunger, what would become of baby, left alone + with you? I don't feel at all sure you wouldn't eat <i>her</i>!” + </p> + <p> + Baby started a feeble whimper. + </p> + <p> + “You must wait now till I've attended to her,” continued Clare. “If you + had got up quietly without waking her, I would have given you your share + at once.” + </p> + <p> + As he spoke, he pulled a blanket off the bed to wrap her in, and made + haste to take her up. A series of difficulties followed, which I will + leave to the imagination of mothers and aunts, and nurses in general—the + worst being that there was no warm water to wash her in, and cold water + would be worse than dangerous after what she had gone through with it the + night before. Clare comforted himself that washing was a thing + non-essential to existence, however desirable for well-being. + </p> + <p> + Then came a more serious difficulty: the milk must be mixed with water, + and water as cold as Clare's legs would kill the drug-dazed shred of + humanity! What was to be done? It would be equally dangerous to give her + the strong milk of a cow undiluted. There was but one way: he must feed + her as do the pigeons. First, however, he must have water! The well was + almost inaccessible: to get to it and return would fearfully waste + life-precious time! The rain-water in the little pool must serve the + necessity! It was preferable to that in the butt! + </p> + <p> + Until many years after, it did not occur to Clare as strange that there + should be even a drop of water in that water-butt. Whence was it fed? + There was no roof near, from which the rain might run into it. If there + had ever been a pipe to supply it, surely, in a house so long forsaken, + its continuity must have given way One always sees such barrels empty, + dry, and cracked: this one was apparently known to be full of water, for + what woman in her senses, however inferior those senses, would throw her + child into an empty butt! How did it happen to be full? Clare was almost + driven to the conclusion that it had been filled for the evil purpose to + which it was that night put. Against this was the fact that it would not + have been easy to fill such a huge vessel by hand. I suggested that the + blacksmith and his predecessors might have used it for the purposes of the + forge, and kept it and its feeder in repair. Mr. Skymer endeavoured + repeatedly to find out what had become of the blacksmith, but never with + any approach to success; the probability being that he had left the world + long before his natural time, by disease engendered or quarrel occasioned + through his drunkenness. + </p> + <p> + Clare laid the baby down, and fetched water from the pool. Then he mixed + the milk with what seemed the right quantity, again took the baby up, who + had been whimpering a little now and then all the time, laid a blanket, + several times folded, on his wet knees, and laid her in her blanket upon + it. These preparations made, he took a small mouthful of the milk and + water, and held it until it grew warm. It was the only way, I condescend + to remind any such reader as may think it proper to be disgusted. When + then he put his mouth to the baby's, careful not to let too much go at + once, they managed so between them that she successfully appropriated the + mouthful. It was followed by a second, a third, and more, until, to + Clare's delight, the child seemed satisfied, leaving some of the precious + fluid for another meal. He put her in the bed again, and covered her up + warm. All the time, Tommy had been watching the loaf with the eyes of a + wild beast. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Tommy,” said Clare, “how much of this loaf do you think you ought to + have?” + </p> + <p> + “Half, of course!” answered Tommy boldly, with perfect conviction of his + fairness, and pride in the same. + </p> + <p> + “Are you as big as I am?” + </p> + <p> + Tommy held his peace. + </p> + <p> + “You ain't half as big!” said Clare. + </p> + <p> + “I'm a bloomin' lot hungrier!” growled Tommy. + </p> + <p> + “You had eggs last night, and I had none!” + </p> + <p> + “That wurn't my fault!” + </p> + <p> + “What did you do to get this bread?” + </p> + <p> + “I staid at home with baby.” + </p> + <p> + “That's true,” answered Clare. “But,” he went on, “suppose a horse and a + pony had got to divide their food between them, would the pony have a + right to half? Wouldn't the horse, being bigger, want more to keep him + alive than the pony?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't know,” said Tommy. + </p> + <p> + “But you shall have the half,” continued Clare; “only I hope, after this, + when you get anything given to you, you'll divide it with me. I try to be + fair, and I want you to be fair.” + </p> + <p> + Tommy made no reply. He did not trouble himself about fair play; he wanted + all he could get—like most people; though, thank God, I know a few + far more anxious to give than to receive fair play. Such men, be they + noblemen or tradesmen, I worship. + </p> + <p> + Clare carefully divided the loaf, and after due deliberation, handed Tommy + that which seemed the bigger half. Without a word of acknowledgment, Tommy + fell upon it like a terrier. He would love Clare in a little while when he + had something more to give—but stomach before heart with Tommy! His + sort is well represented in every rank. There are not many who can at the + same time both love and be hungry. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0028" id="link2HCH0028"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XXVIII. Treachery. + </h2> + <p> + “Now, Tommy,” said Clare, having eaten his half loaf, “I'm going out to + look for work, and you must take care of baby. You're not to feed her—you + would only choke her, and waste the good milk.” + </p> + <p> + “I want to go out too,” said Tommy. + </p> + <p> + “To see what you can pick up, I suppose?” + </p> + <p> + “That's my business.” + </p> + <p> + “I fancy it mine while you are with me. If you don't take care of baby and + be good to her, I'll put you in the water-butt I took her out of—as + sure as you ain't in it now!” + </p> + <p> + “That you shan't!” cried Tommy; “I'll bite first!” + </p> + <p> + “I'll tie your hands and feet, and put a stick in your mouth,” said Clare. + “So you'd better mind.” + </p> + <p> + “I want to go with you!” whimpered Tommy. + </p> + <p> + “You can't. You're to stop and look after baby. I won't be away longer + than I can help; you may be sure of that.” + </p> + <p> + With repeated injunctions to him not to leave the room, Clare went. + </p> + <p> + Before going quite, however, he must arrange for returning. To swarm up + between the two walls as he had done before, would be to bid good-bye to + his jacket at least, and he knew how appearances were already against him. + Spying about for whatever might serve his purpose, he caught sight of an + old garden-roller, and was making for it, when Tommy, never doubting he + was gone, came whistling round the corner of the house with his hands in + his pocket-holes, and an impudent air of independence. Clare away, he was + a lord in his own eyes! He could kill the baby when he pleased! Plainly + his mood was, “He thinks I'm going to do as he tells me! Not if I knows + it!” Clare saw him before he saw Clare, and rushed at him with a roar. + </p> + <p> + “You thought I was gone!” he cried. “I told you not to leave the room! + Come along to the water-butt!” + </p> + <p> + Tommy shivered when he heard him, and gave a shriek when he saw him + coming. He shook till his teeth chattered. But terror not always paralyzes + instinct in the wild animal. As Clare came running, he took one step + toward him, and dropped on the ground at his feet. Clare shot away over + his head, struck his own against a tree, and lay for a minute stunned. + Tommy's success was greater than he had hoped. He scudded into the house, + and closed and bolted the door to the kitchen. + </p> + <p> + When Clare came to himself, he found he had a cut on his head. It would + never do to go asking for work with a bloody face! The little pool served + at once for basin and mirror, and while he washed he thought. + </p> + <p> + He had no inclination to punish Tommy for the trick he had played him; he + had but done after his kind! It would serve a good end too: Tommy would + imagine him lurking about to have his revenge, and would not venture his + nose out. He discovered afterward that the little wretch had made fast the + cellar-door, so that, if he had entered that way, he would have been + caught in a trap, and unable to go or return. + </p> + <p> + He got the iron roller to the foot of the wall, where he had come over the + night before, and where now first he perceived there had once been a door; + managed, with its broken handle for a lever, to set it up on end, filled + it with earth, and heaped a mound of earth about it to steady it, placed a + few broken tiles and sherds of chimney-pots upon it, and from this rickety + perch found he could reach the top easily. + </p> + <p> + The next thing was to arrange for getting up from the other side. For this + he threw over earth and stones and whatever rubbish came to his hand, the + sole quality required in his material being, that it should serve to lift + him any fraction of an inch higher. The space was so narrow that his mound + did not require to be sustained by the width of its base except in one + direction; everywhere else the walls kept in the heap, and he made good + speed. At length he descended by it, sure of being able to get up again. + </p> + <p> + He had been gone an hour before Tommy dared again leave the room where the + baby was. He had planned what to do if Clare got into it: he would + threaten, if he came a step nearer, to kill the baby! But if he had him in + the coal-cellar, he would make his own conditions! A tramp would not keep + a promise, but Clare would! and until he promised not to touch him, he + should not come out—not if he died of hunger! + </p> + <p> + At length he could bear imprisonment no longer. He opened the room-door + with the caution of one who thought a tiger might be lying against it. He + saw no one, and crept out with half steps. By slow degrees, interrupted by + many an inroad of terror and many a swift retreat, he got down the stair + and out into the garden; whence, after closest search, he was at length + satisfied his enemy had departed. For a time he was his own master! To one + like Tommy—and such are not rare—it is a fine thing to be his + own master. But the same person who is the master is the servant—and + what a master to serve! Tommy, however, was quite satisfied with both + master and servant, for both were himself. What was he to do? Go after + something to eat, of course! He would be back long before Clare! He had + gone to look for work—and who would give <i>him</i> work? If Tommy + were as big as Clare, lots of people would give him work! But catch him + working! Not if he knew it!—not Tommy! + </p> + <p> + Never till she was grown up, never, indeed, until she was a middle-aged + woman and Mr. Skymer's housekeeper, did the baby know in what danger she + was that morning, alone with surnameless Tommy. + </p> + <p> + His first sense of relation to any creature too weak to protect itself, + was the consciousness of power to torment that creature. But in this case + the exercise of the power brought him into another relation, one with the + water-butt! He went back to the room where the child lay in her blankets + like a human chrysalis, and stood for a moment regarding her with a hatred + far from mild: was he actually expected to give time and personal notice + to that contemptible thing lying there unable to move? <i>He</i> wasn't a + girl or an old woman! He must go and get something to eat! that was what a + man was for! Better twist her neck at once and go! + </p> + <p> + But he could not forget the water-butt—proximate mother of the + child. Its idea came sliding into Tommy's range, grew and grew upon Tommy, + came nearer and nearer, until the baby was nowhere, and nothing in the + world but the water-butt. His consciousness was possessed with it. It was + preparing to swallow him in its loathsome deep! All at once it jumped back + from him, and stood motionless by the side of the wall. Now was his + chance! Now he must mizzle! Not a moment longer would he stop in the same + place with the horrible thing! + </p> + <p> + But the baby! Clare would bring him back and put him in the butt! No, he + wouldn't! What harm would come to the brat? She was not able to roll + herself off the bed! She could do nothing but go to sleep again! Out he + must and would go! He wanted something to eat! He would be in again long + before Clare could get back! + </p> + <p> + He left the room and the house, ran down the garden, scrambled up the + door, got on the top of the wall, and dropped into the waste land behind + it—nor once thought that the only way back was by the very jaws of + the water-butt. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0029" id="link2HCH0029"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XXIX. The baker. + </h2> + <p> + Clare went over the wall and the well without a notion of what he was + going to do, except look for work. He had eaten half a loaf, and now drew + in his cap some water from the well and drank. He felt better than any + moment since leaving the farm. He was full of hope. + </p> + <p> + All his life he had never been other than hopeful. To the human being hope + is as natural as hunger; yet how few there are that hope as they hunger! + Men are so proud of being small, that one wonders to what pitch their + conceit will have arrived by the time they are nothing at all. They are + proud that they love but a little, believe less, and hope for nothing. + Every fool prides himself on not being such a fool as believe what would + make a man of him. For dread of being taken in, he takes himself in + ridiculously. The man who keeps on trying to do his duty, finds a brighter + and brighter gleam issue, as he walks, from the lantern of his hope. + </p> + <p> + Clare was just breaking into a song he had heard his mother sing to his + sister, when he was checked by the sight of a long skinny mongrel like a + hairy worm, that lay cowering and shivering beside a heap of ashes put + down for the dust-cart—such a dry hopeless heap that the famished + little dog did not care to search it: some little warmth in it, I presume, + had kept him near it. Clare's own indigence made him the more sorry for + the indigent, and he felt very sorry for this member of the family; but he + had neither work nor alms to give him, therefore strode on. The dog looked + wistfully after him, as if recognizing one of his own sort, one that would + help him if he could, but did not follow him. + </p> + <p> + A hundred yards further, Clare came to a baker's shop. It was the first he + felt inclined to enter, and he went in. He did not know it was the shop + from whose cart Tommy had pilfered. A thin-faced, bilious-looking, elderly + man stood behind the counter. + </p> + <p> + “Well, boy, what do you want?” he said in a low, sad, severe, but not + unkindly voice. + </p> + <p> + “Please, sir,” answered Clare, “I want something to do, and I thought + perhaps you could help me.” + </p> + <p> + “What can you do?” + </p> + <p> + “Not much, but I can <i>try</i> to do anything.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you ever learned to do anything?” + </p> + <p> + “I've been working on a farm for the last six months. Before that I went + to school.” + </p> + <p> + “Why didn't you go on going to school?” + </p> + <p> + “Because my father and mother died.” + </p> + <p> + “What was your father?” + </p> + <p> + “A parson.” + </p> + <p> + “Why did you leave the farm?” + </p> + <p> + “Because they didn't want me. The mistress didn't like me.” + </p> + <p> + “I dare say she had her reasons!” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know, sir; she didn't seem to like anything I did. My mother used + to say, 'Well done, Clare!' my mistress never said 'Well done!”' + </p> + <p> + “So the farmer sent you away?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir; but he boxed my ears for something—I don't now remember + what.” + </p> + <p> + “I dare say you deserved it!” + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps I did; I don't know; he never did it before.” + </p> + <p> + “If you deserved it, you had no right to run away for that.” + </p> + <p> + The baker taught in a Sunday-school, and was a good teacher, able to make + a class mind him. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't run away for that, sir; I ran away because he was tired of me. I + couldn't stay to make him uncomfortable! He had been very kind to me; I + fancy it was mistress made him change. I've been thinking a good deal + about it, and that's how it looks to me. I'm very sorry not to have him or + the creatures any more.” + </p> + <p> + “What creatures?” + </p> + <p> + “The bull, and the horses, and the cows, and the pigs—all the + creatures about the farm. They were my friends. I shall see them all again + somewhere!” + </p> + <p> + He gave a great sigh. + </p> + <p> + “What do you mean by that?” asked the baker. + </p> + <p> + “I hardly know what I mean,” answered Clare. + </p> + <p> + “When I'm loving anybody I always feel I shall see that person again some + time, I don't know when—somewhere, I don't know where.” + </p> + <p> + “That don't apply to the lower animals; it's nothing but a foolish + imagination,” said the baker. + </p> + <p> + “But if I love them!” suggested Clare. + </p> + <p> + “Love a bull, or a horse, or a pig! You can't!” asserted the baker. + </p> + <p> + “But I <i>do</i>,” rejoined Clare. “I love my father and mother much more + than when they were alive!” + </p> + <p> + “What has that to do with it?” returned the baker. + </p> + <p> + “That I know I love my father and mother, and I know I love that fierce + bull that would always do what I told him, and that dear old horse that + was almost past work, and was always ready to do his best.—I'm + afraid they've killed him by now!” he added, with another sigh. + </p> + <p> + “But beasts 'ain't got souls, and you can't love them. And if you could, + that's no reason why you should see them again.” + </p> + <p> + “I <i>do</i> love them, and perhaps they have souls!” rejoined Clare. + </p> + <p> + “You mustn't believe that! It's quite shocking. It's nowhere in the + Bible.” + </p> + <p> + “Is everything that is not in the Bible shocking, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, I won't say that; but you're not to believe it.” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose you don't like animals, sir! Are you afraid of their going to + the same place as you when they die?” + </p> + <p> + “I wouldn't have a boy about me that held such an unscriptural notion! The + Bible says—the spirit of a man that goeth upward, and the spirit of + a beast that goeth downward!” + </p> + <p> + “Is that in the Bible, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “It is,” answered the baker with satisfaction, thinking he had proved his + point. + </p> + <p> + “I'm so glad!” returned Clare. “I didn't know there was anything about it + in the Bible! Then when I die I shall only have to go down somewhere, and + look for them till I find them!” + </p> + <p> + The baker was silenced for a moment. + </p> + <p> + “It's flat atheism!” he cried. “Get out of my shop! What is the world + coming to!” + </p> + <p> + Clare turned and went out. + </p> + <p> + But though a bilious, the baker was not an unreasonable or unjust man + except when what he had been used to believe all his life was + contradicted. Clare had not yet shut the door when he repented. He was a + good man, though not quite in the secret of the universe. He vaulted over + the counter, and opened the door with such a ringing of its appended bell + as made heavy-hearted Clare turn before he heard his voice. The long spare + white figure appeared on the threshold, framed in the doorway. + </p> + <p> + “Hi!” it shouted. + </p> + <p> + Clare went meekly back. + </p> + <p> + “I've just remembered hearing—but mind I <i>know</i> nothing, and + pledge myself to nothing——” + </p> + <p> + He paused. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't say I was <i>sure</i> about it,” returned Clare, thinking he + referred to the fate of the animals, “but I fear I'm to blame for not + being sure.” + </p> + <p> + “Come, come!” said the baker, with a twist of his mouth that expressed + disgust, “hold your tongue, and listen to me.—I did hear, as I was + saying, that Mr. Maidstone, down the town, had one of his errand-boys laid + up with scarlet fever. I'll take you to him, if you like. Perhaps he'll + have you,—though I can't say you look respectable!” + </p> + <p> + “I 'ain't had much chance since I left home, sir. I had a bit of soap, but——” + </p> + <p> + He bethought him that he had better say nothing about his family. Tommy + had picked his pocket of the soap the night before, and tried to eat it, + and Clare had hidden it away: he wanted it to wash the baby with as soon + as he could get some warm water; but when he went to find it to wash his + own face, it was gone. He suspected Tommy, but before long he had terrible + ground for a different surmise. + </p> + <p> + “You see, sir,” he resumed, “I had other things to think of. When your + tummy's empty, you don't think about the rest of you—do you, sir?” + </p> + <p> + The baker could not remember having ever been more than decently, + healthily hungry in his life; and here he had been rough on a well-bred + boy too hungry to wash his face! Perhaps the word <i>one of these little + ones</i> came to him. He had some regard for him who spoke it, though he + did talk more about him on Sundays than obey him in the days between. + </p> + <p> + “I don't know, my boy,” he answered. “Would you like a piece of bread?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm not much in want of it at this moment,” replied Clare, “but I should + be greatly obliged if you would let me call for it by and by. You see, + sir, when a man has no work, he can't help having no money!” + </p> + <p> + “A man!” thought the baker. “God pity you, poor monkey!” + </p> + <p> + He called to some one to mind the shop, removed his apron and put on a + coat, shut the door, and went down the street with Clare. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0030" id="link2HCH0030"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XXX. The draper. + </h2> + <p> + At the shop of a draper and haberdasher, where one might buy almost + anything sold, Clare's new friend stopped and walked in. He asked to see + Mr. Maidstone, and a shopman went to fetch him from behind. He came out + into the public floor. + </p> + <p> + “I heard you were in want of a boy, sir,” said the baker, who carried + himself as in the presence of a superior; and certainly fine clothes and a + gold chain and ring did what they could to make the draper superior to the + baker. + </p> + <p> + “Hm!” said Mr. Maidstone, looking with contempt at Clare. + </p> + <p> + “I rather liked the look of this poor boy, and ventured to bring him on + approval,” continued the baker timidly. “He ain't much to look at, I + confess!” + </p> + <p> + “Hm!” said the draper again. “He don't look promising!” + </p> + <p> + “He don't. But I think he means performing,” said the baker, with a wan + smile. + </p> + <p> + “Donnow, I'm sure! If he 'appened to wash his face, I could tell better!” + </p> + <p> + Clare thought he had washed it pretty well that morning because of his + cut, though he had, to be sure, done it without soap, and had been at + rather dirty work since! + </p> + <p> + “He says he's been too hungry to wash his face,” answered the baker. + </p> + <p> + “Didn't 'ave his 'ot water in time, I suppose!—Will you answer for + him, Mr. Ball?” + </p> + <p> + “I can't, Mr. Maidstone—not one way or another. I simply was taken + with him. I know nothing about him.” + </p> + <p> + Here one of the shopmen came up to his master, and said, + </p> + <p> + “I heard Mr. Ball's own man yesterday accuse this very boy of taking a + loaf from his cart.” + </p> + <p> + “Yesterday!” thought Clare; “it seems a week ago!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! this is the boy, is it?” said the baker. “You see I didn't know him! + All the same, I don't believe he took the loaf.” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed I didn't, sir! Another boy took it who didn't know better, and I + took it from him, and was putting it back on the cart when the man turned + round and saw me, and wouldn't listen to a word I said. But a working-man + believed me, and bought the loaf, and gave it between us.” + </p> + <p> + “A likely story!” said the draper. + </p> + <p> + “I've heard that much,” said the baker, “and I believe it. At least I have + no reason to believe my man against him, Mr. Maidstone. That same night I + discovered he had been cheating me to a merry tune. I discharged him this + morning.” + </p> + <p> + “Well, he certainly don't look a respectable boy,” said the draper, who + naturally, being all surface himself, could read no deeper than clothes; + “but I'm greatly in want of one to carry out parcels, and I don't mind if + I try him. If he do steal anything, he'll be caught within the hour!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, thank you, sir!” said Clare. + </p> + <p> + “You shall have sixpence a day,” Mr. Maidstone continued, “—not a + penny more till I'm sure you're an honest boy.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, sir,” iterated Clare. “Please may I run home first? I won't be + long. I 'ain't got any other clothes, but——” + </p> + <p> + “Hold your long tongue. Don't let me hear it wagging in my establishment. + Go and wash your face and hands.” Clare turned to the baker. + </p> + <p> + “Please, sir,” he said softly, “may I go back with you and get the piece + of bread?” + </p> + <p> + “What! begging already!” cried Mr. Maidstone. + </p> + <p> + “No, no, sir,” interposed the baker. “I promised him a piece of bread. He + did not ask for it.” + </p> + <p> + The good man was pleased at his success, and began to regard Clare with + the favour that springs in the heart of him who has done a good turn to + another through a third. Had he helped him out of his own pocket, he might + not have been so much pleased. But there had been no loss, and there was + no risk! He had beside shown his influence with a superior! + </p> + <p> + “I am so much obliged to you, sir!” said Clare as they went away together. + “I cannot tell you how much!” + </p> + <p> + He was tempted to open his heart and reveal the fact that three people + would live on the sixpence a day which the baker's kindness had procured + him, but prudence was fast coming frontward, and he saw that no one must + know that they were in that house! If it were known, they would probably + be turned out at once, which would go far to be fatal to them as a family. + For, if he had to pay for lodgings, were it no more than the tramps paid + Tommy's grandmother, sixpence a day would not suffice for bare shelter. So + he held his tongue. + </p> + <p> + “Thank me by minding Mr. Maidstone's interests,” returned his benefactor. + “If you don't do well by him, the blame will come upon me.” + </p> + <p> + “I will be very careful, sir,” answered Clare, who was too full of honesty + to think of being honest; he thought only of minding orders. + </p> + <p> + They reached the shop; the baker gave him a small loaf, and he hurried + home with it The joy in his heart, spread over the days since he left the + farm, would have given each a fair amount of gladness. + </p> + <p> + Taking heed that no one saw him, he darted through the passage to the + well, got across it better this time, rushed over the wall like a cat, + fell on the other side from the unsteadiness of his potsherds, rose and + hurried into the house, with the feeble wail of his baby in his ears. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0031" id="link2HCH0031"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XXXI. An addition to the family. + </h2> + <p> + The door to the kitchen was open: Tommy must be in the garden again! When + he reached the nursery, as he called it to himself, he found the baby as + he had left her, but moaning and wailing piteously. She looked as if she + had cried till she was worn out. He threw down the clothes to take her. A + great rat sprang from the bed. On one of the tiny feet the long thin toes + were bleeding and raw. The same instant arose a loud scampering and + scuffling and squealing in the room. Clare's heart quivered. He thought it + was a whole army of rats. He was not a bit afraid of them himself, but + assuredly they were not company for baby! Already they had smelt food in + the house, and come in a swarm! What was to be done with the little one? + If he stayed at home with her, she must die of hunger; if he left her + alone, the rats would eat her! They had begun already! Oh, that wretch, + Tommy! Into the water—but he should go! + </p> + <p> + I hope their friends will not take it ill that, all his life after, Clare + felt less kindly disposed toward rats than toward the rest of the + creatures of God. + </p> + <p> + But things were not nearly so bad as Clare thought: the scuffling came + from quite another cause. It suddenly ceased, and a sharp scream followed. + Clare turned with the baby in his arms. Almost at his feet, gazing up at + him, the rat hanging limp from his jaws, stood the little castaway mongrel + he had seen in the morning, his eyes flaming, and his tail wagging with + wild homage and the delight of presenting the rat to one he would fain + make his master. + </p> + <p> + “You darling!” cried Clare, and meant the dog this time, not the baby. The + animal dropped the dead rat at his feet, and glared, and wagged, and + looked hunger incarnate, but would not touch the rat until Clare told him + to take it. Then he retired with it to a corner, and made a rapid meal of + it. + </p> + <p> + He had seen Clare pass the second time, had doubtless noted that now he + carried a loaf, and had followed him in humble hope. Clare was too much + occupied with his own joy to perceive him, else he would certainly have + given him a little peeling or two from the outside of the bread. But it + was decreed that the dog should have the honour of rendering the first + service. Clare was not to do <i>all</i> the benevolences. + </p> + <p> + What a happy day it had been for him! It was a day to be remembered for + ever! He had work! he had sixpence a day! he had had a present of milk for + the baby, and two presents of bread—one a small, and one a large + loaf! And now here was a dog! A dog was more than many meals! The family + was four now! A baby, and a dog to take care of the baby!—It was + heavenly! + </p> + <p> + He made haste and gave his baby what milk and water was left. Then he + washed her poor torn foot, wrapped it in a pillow-case, for he would not + tear anything, and laid her in the bed. Next he cut a good big crust from + the loaf and gave it to the dog, who ate it as if the rat were nowhere. + The rest he put in a drawer. Then he washed his face and hands—as + well as he could without soap. After that, he took the dog, talked to him + a little, laid him on the bed beside the baby and talked to him again, + telling him plainly, and impressing upon him, that his business was the + care of the baby; that he must give himself up to her; that he must watch + and tend, and, if needful, fight for the little one. When at length he + left him, it was evident to Clare, by the solemnity of the dog's face, + that he understood his duty thoroughly. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0032" id="link2HCH0032"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XXXII. Shop and baby. + </h2> + <p> + Once clear of the well and the wall, Clare set off running like a + gaze-hound. Such was the change produced in him by joy and the + satisfaction of hope, that when he entered the shop, no one at first knew + him. His face was as the face of an angel, and none the less beautiful + that it shone above ragged garments. But Mr. Maidstone, the moment he saw + him, and before he had time to recognize him, turned from the boy with + dislike. + </p> + <p> + “What a fool the beggar looks!” he said to himself;—then aloud to + one of the young men, “Hand over that parcel of sheets.—Here, you!—what's + your name?” + </p> + <p> + “Clare, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “I declare against it!” he rejoined, with a coarse laugh of pleasure at + his own fancied wit. “I shall call you Jack!” + </p> + <p> + “Very well, sir!” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you talk.—Here, Jack, take this parcel to Mrs. Trueman's. + You'll see the address on it.—And look sharp.—You can read, + can't you?” + </p> + <p> + The people in the shop stood looking on, some pitifully, all curiously, + for the parcel was of considerable size, and linen is heavy, while the boy + looked pale and thin. But Clare was strong for his age, and present joy + made up for past want. He scarcely looked at the parcel which the draper + proceeded to lay on his shoulder, stooped a little as he felt its weight, + heaved it a little to adjust its balance, and holding it in its place with + one hand, started for the door, which the master himself held open for + him. + </p> + <p> + “Please, sir, which way do I turn?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “To the left,” answered Mr. Maidstone. “Ask your way as you go.” + </p> + <p> + Clare forgot that he had heard only the lady's name. Her address was on + the parcel, no doubt, but if he dropped it to look, he could not get it up + again by himself. A little way on, therefore, meeting a boy about his own + age returning from school, he asked him to be kind enough to read the + address on his back and direct him. The boy read it aloud, but gave him + false instructions for finding the place. Clare walked and walked until + the weight became almost unendurable, and at last, though loath, concluded + that the boy must have deceived him. He asked again, but this time of a + lady. She took pains not only to tell him right, but to make him + understand right: she was pleased with the tired gentle face that looked + up from beneath the heavy burden. Perhaps she thought of the proud souls + growing pure of their pride, in Dante's <i>Purgatorio</i>. Following her + directions, he needed no further questioning to find the house. But it was + hours after the burden was gone from his shoulder before it was rid of the + phantom of its weight. + </p> + <p> + His master rated him for having been so long, and would not permit him to + explain his delay, ordering him to hold his tongue and not answer back; + but the rest of his day's work was lighter; there was no other heavy + parcel to send out. There were so many smaller ones, however, that, by the + time they were all delivered, he had gained something more than a general + idea of how the streets lay, and was a weary wight when, with the + four-pence his master hesitated to give him on the ground that he was + doubtful of his character, he set out at last, walking soberly enough now, + to spend it at Mr. Ball's and the milk-shop. Of the former he bought a + stale three-penny loaf, and the baker added a piece to make up the weight. + Clare took this for liberality, and returned hearty thanks, which Mr. + Ball, I am sorry to say, was not man enough to repudiate. The other penny + he laid out on milk—but oh, how inferior it was to that the farmer's + wife had given him! The milk-woman, however, not ungraciously granted him + the two matches he begged for. + </p> + <p> + On his way to baby, he almost hoped Tommy would not return: he would + gladly be saved putting him in the water-butt! + </p> + <p> + He forgot him again as he drew near the nursery, and for a long while + after he reached it. He found the infant and the dog lying as he had left + them. The only sign that either had moved was the strange cleanness of the + tiny gray face which Clare had not ventured to wash. It gave indubitable + evidence that the dog had been licking it more than a little—probably + every few minutes since he was left curate in charge. + </p> + <p> + And now Clare did with deliberation a thing for which his sensitive + conscience not unfrequently reproached him afterward. His defence was, + that he had hurt nobody, and had kept baby alive by it. Having in his mind + revolved the matter many a time that day, he got some sticks together from + the garden, and with one of the precious matches lighted a small fire of + coals that were not his own, and for which he could merely hope one day to + restore amends. But baby! Baby was more than coals! He filled a rusty + kettle with water, and while it was growing hot on the fire, such was his + fear lest the smoke should betray them, that he ran out every other minute + to see how much was coming from the chimney. + </p> + <p> + While the fire was busy heating the water, he was busier preparing a + bottle for baby—making a hole through the cork of a phial, putting + the broken stem of a clean tobacco pipe he had found in the street through + the hole, tying a small lump of cotton wool over the end of the pipe-stem, + and covering that with a piece of his pocket-handkerchief, carefully + washed with the brown Windsor soap, his mother's last present. For the day + held yet another gladness: in looking for a kettle he had found the soap—which + probably the rat had carried away and hidden before finding baby. Through + the pipe-stem and the wool and the handkerchief he could without + difficulty draw water, and hoped therefore baby would succeed in drawing + her supper. As soon as the water was warm he mixed some with the milk, but + not so much this time, and put the mixture in the bottle. To his delight, + the baby sucked it up splendidly. The bottle, thought out between the + heavy linen and the hard street, was a success! Labour is not unfriendly + to thought, as the annals of weaving and shoe-making witness. + </p> + <p> + And now at last was Clare equipped for a great attempt: he was going to + wash the baby! He was glad that disrespectful Tommy was not in the house. + With a basin of warm water and his precious piece of soap he set about it, + and taking much pains washed his treasure perfectly clean. It was a state + of bliss in which, up to that moment, I presume, she had never been since + her birth. In the process he handled her, if not with all the skill of a + nurse, yet with the tenderness of a mother. His chief anxiety was not to + hurt, more than could not be helped, the poor little rat-eaten toes. He + felt he must wash them, but when in the process she whimpered, it went all + through the calves of his legs. When the happy but solicitous task was + over, during which the infant had shown the submission of great weakness, + he wrapped her in another blanket, and laid her down again. Soothed and + comfortable, as probably never soothed or comfortable before, she went to + sleep. + </p> + <p> + As soon as she was out of his arms, he took a piece of bread, and with + some of the hot water made a little sop for the dog, which the small hero, + whose four legs carried such a long barrel of starvation, ate with + undisguised pleasure and thankfulness. For his own supper Clare preferred + his bread dry, following it with a fine draught of water from the well. + </p> + <p> + Then, and not till then, returned the thought—what had Tommy done + with himself? Left to himself he was sure to go stealing! He might have + been taken in the act! Clare could hardly believe he had actually run away + from him. On the other hand, he had left the baby, and knew that if he + returned he would be put in the water-butt! He might have come to the + conclusion that he could do better without Clare, who would not let him + steal! It was clear he did not like taking his share in the work of the + family, and looking after the baby! Had he been anything of a true boy, + Clare would have taken his bread in his hand and gone to look for him; + being such as he was, he did not think it necessary. He felt bound to do + his best for him if he came back, but he did not feel bound to leave the + baby and roam the country to find a boy with whom baby's life would be in + constant danger. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0033" id="link2HCH0033"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XXXIII. A bad penny. + </h2> + <p> + Before Clare had done his thinking, darkness had fallen, and, weary to the + very bones, he threw himself on the bed beside the baby. The dog jumped up + and laid himself at his feet, as if the place had been his from time + immemorial—as it had perhaps been, according to time in dog-land. + The many pleasures of that blessed day would have kept Clare awake had + they not brought with them so much weariness. He fell fast asleep. Tommy + had not had a happy day: he had been found out in evil-doing, had done + more evil, and had all the day been in dread of punishment. He did not + foresee how ill things would go for him—did not see that a rat had + taken his place beside the baby, and that he would not get back before + Clare; but the vision of the water-butt had often flashed upon his inner + eye, and it had not been the bliss of his solitude. He deserted his post + in the hope of finding something to eat, and had not had a mouthful of + anything but spongy turnip, and dried-up mangel-wurzel, or want-root. If + he had been minding his work, he would have had a piece of good bread—so + good that he would have wanted more of it, whereas, when he had eaten the + turnip and the beetroot, he had cause to wish he had not eaten so much! He + had been set upon by boys bigger than himself, and nearly as bad, who, not + being hungry, were in want of amusement, and had proceeded to get it out + of Tommy, just as Tommy would have got it out of the baby had he dared. + They bullied him in a way that would have been to his heart's content, had + he been the bully instead of the bullied. They made him actually wish he + had stayed with the baby—and therewith came the thought that it was + time to go home if he would get back before Clare. As to what had taken + place in the morning, he knew Clare's forgivingness, and despised him for + it. If he found the baby dead, or anything happened to her that he could + not cover with lying, it would be time to cut and run in earnest! So the + moment he could escape from his tormenters, off went Tommy for home. But + as he ran he remembered that there was but one way into the house, and + that was by the very lip of the water-butt. + </p> + <p> + Clare woke up suddenly—at a sound which all his life would wake him + from the deepest slumber: he thought he heard the whimpering of a child. + The baby was fast asleep. Instantly he thought of Tommy. He seemed to see + him shut out in the night, and knew at once how it was with him: he had + gone out without thinking how he was to get back, and dared not go near + the water-butt! He jumped out of bed, put on his shoes, and in a minute or + two was over the wall and walking along the lane outside of it, to find + the deserter. + </p> + <p> + The moon was not up, and the night was dark, yet he had not looked long + before he came upon him, as near the house as he could get, crouching + against the wall. + </p> + <p> + “Tommy!” said Clare softly. + </p> + <p> + Tommy did not reply. The fear of the water-butt was upon him—a fear + darker than the night, an evil worse than hunger or cold—and Clare + and the water-butt were one. + </p> + <p> + “You needn't think to hide, Tommy; I see you, you bad boy!” whispered + Clare. “After all I said, you ran away and left the baby to the rats! + They've been biting her horribly—one at least has. You can stay away + as long as you like now; I've got a better nurse. Good-night!” Tommy gave + a great howl. + </p> + <p> + “Hold your tongue, you rascal!” cried Clare, still in a whisper. “You'll + let the police know where we are!” + </p> + <p> + “Do let me in, Clare! I'm so 'ungry and so cold!” + </p> + <p> + “Then I shall have to put you in the water-butt! I said I would!” + </p> + <p> + “If you don't promise not to, I'll go straight to the police. They'll take + the brat from you, and put her in the workhouse!” + </p> + <p> + Clare thought for a moment whether it would not be right to kill such a + traitor. His mind was full of history-tales, and, like Dante, he put + treachery in its own place, namely the deepest hell. But with the thought + came the words he had said so many times without thinking what they meant—“Forgive + us our trespasses, as we forgive them that trespass against us,” and he + saw that he was expected to forgive Tommy. + </p> + <p> + “Tommy, I forgive you,” he said solemnly, “and will be friends with you + again; but I have said it, and I was right to say it, and into the + water-butt you must go! I can't trust your word now, and I think I shall + be able to trust it after that.” + </p> + <p> + Ere he had finished the words, Tommy lifted up his voice in a most + unearthly screech. + </p> + <p> + Instantly Clare had him by the throat, so that he could not utter a sound. + </p> + <p> + “Tommy,” he said, “I'm going to let you breathe again, but the moment you + make a noise, I'll choke you as I'm doing now.” + </p> + <p> + With that he relaxed his hold. But Tommy had paid no heed to what he said, + and began a second screech the moment he found passage for it. Immediately + he was choked, and after two or three attempts, finally desisted. + </p> + <p> + “I won't!” he said. + </p> + <p> + “You shall, Tommy. You're going head over in the butt. We're going to it + now!” + </p> + <p> + Tommy threw himself upon the ground and kicked, but dared not scream. It + was awful! He would drop right through into the great place where the moon + was! + </p> + <p> + Clare threw him over his shoulder, and found him not half the weight of + the parcel of linen. Tommy would have bitten like a weasel, but he feared + Clare's terrible hands. He was on the back of Giant Despair, in the form + of one of the best boys in the world. Clare took him round the wall, and + over the fence into the blacksmith's yard. The smithy was quite dark. + </p> + <p> + “Please, I didn't mean to do it!” sobbed Tommy from behind him, as Clare + bore him steadily up the yard. It was all he could do to say the words, + for the thought of what they were approaching sent a scream into his + throat every time he parted his lips to speak. + </p> + <p> + Clare stopped. + </p> + <p> + “What didn't you mean to do?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “I didn't mean to leave the baby.” + </p> + <p> + “How did you do it then?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean I didn't mean to stay away so long. I didn't know how to get + back.” + </p> + <p> + “I told you not to leave her! And you could have got back perfectly, you + little coward!” + </p> + <p> + Tommy shuddered, and said no more. Though hanging over Clare's back he + knew presently, by his stopping, that they had come to the heap. There was + only that heap and the wall between him and the water-butt! Up and up he + felt himself slowly, shakingly carried, and was gathering his breath for a + final utterance of agony that should rouse the whole neighbourhood, when + Clare, having reached the top, seated himself upon the wall, and Tommy + restrained himself in the hope of what a parley might bring. But he sat + down only to wheel on the pivot of his spine, as he had seen them do on + the counter in the shop, and sit with his legs alongside of the + water-butt. Then he drew Tommy from his shoulder, in spite of his + clinging, and laid him across his knees; and Tommy, divining there were + words yet to be said, and hoping to get off with a beating, which he did + not mind, remained silent. + </p> + <p> + “Your hour is come, Tommy!” said Clare. “If you scream, I will drop you + in, and hold you only by one leg. If you don't scream, I will hold you by + both legs. If you scream when I take you out, in you go again! I do what I + say, Tommy!” + </p> + <p> + The wretched boy was nearly mad with terror. But now, much as he feared + the water, he feared yet more for the moment him in whom lay the power of + the water. Clare took him by the heels. + </p> + <p> + “I'm sorry there's no moon, as I promised you,” he said; “she won't come + up for my calling. I should have liked you to see where you were going. + But if you ain't an honest boy after this, you shall have another chance; + and next time we will wait for the moon!” + </p> + <p> + With that he lifted Tommy's legs, holding him by the ankles, and would + have shoved his body over the edge of the butt into the water. But Tommy + clung fast to his knees. + </p> + <p> + “Leave go, Tommy,” he said, “or I'll tumble you right in.” + </p> + <p> + Tommy yielded, his will overcome by a greater fear. Clare let him hang for + a moment over the black water, and slowly lowered him. Tommy clung to the + side of the butt. Clare let go one leg, and taking hold of his hands + pulled them away. Tommy's terror would have burst in a frenzied yell, but + the same instant he was down to the neck in the water, and lifted out + again. He spluttered and gurgled and tried to scream. + </p> + <p> + “Now, Tommy,” said Clare, “don't scream, or I'll put you in again.” + </p> + <p> + But Tommy never believed anything except upon compulsion. The moment he + could, that moment he screamed, and that moment he was in the water again. + The next time he was taken out, he did not scream. Clare laid him on the + wall, and he lay still, pretending to be drowned. Clare got up, set him on + his feet in front of him, and holding him by the collar, trotted him round + the top of the wall to the door, and dropped him into the garden. He was + quiet enough now—more than subdued—incapable even of + meditating revenge. But when they entered the nursery, the dog, taking + Tommy for a worse sort of rat, made a leap at him right off the bed, as if + he would swallow him alive, and the start and the terror of it brought him + quite to himself again. + </p> + <p> + “Quiet, Abdiel!” said Clare. + </p> + <p> + The dog turned, jumped up on the bed, and lay down again close to the + baby. + </p> + <p> + Clare, who, I have said, was in old days a reader of <i>Paradise Lost</i>, + had already given him the name of <i>Abdiel</i>. + </p> + <p> + “Please, I couldn't help yelling!” said Tommy, very meekly. “I didn't know + you'd got <i>him</i>!” + </p> + <p> + “I know you couldn't help it!” answered Clare. “What have you had to eat + to-day?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing but a beastly turnip and a wormy beet,” said Tommy. “I'm awful + hungry.” + </p> + <p> + “You'd have had something better if you'd stuck by the baby, and not left + her to the rats!” + </p> + <p> + “There ain't no rats,” growled Tommy. + </p> + <p> + “Will you believe your own eyes?” returned Clare, and showed him the skin + of the rat Abdiel had slain. “I've a great mind to make you eat it!” he + added, dangling it before him by the tail. + </p> + <p> + “Shouldn't mind,” said Tommy. “I've eaten a rat afore now, an' I'm that + hungry! Rats ain't bad to eat. I don't know about their skins!” + </p> + <p> + “Here's a piece of bread for you. But you sha'n't sleep with honest people + like baby and Abdiel. You shall lie on the hearth-rug. Here's a blanket + and a pillow for you!” + </p> + <p> + Clare covered him up warm, thatching all with a piece of loose carpet, and + he was asleep directly. + </p> + <p> + The next day all terror of the water-butt was gone from the little + vagabond's mind. He was now, however, thoroughly afraid of Clare, and his + conceit that, though Clare was the stronger, he was the cleverer, was put + in abeyance. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0034" id="link2HCH0034"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XXXIV. How things went for a time. + </h2> + <p> + Clare's next day went much as the preceding, only that he was early at the + shop. When his dinner-hour came, he ran home, and was glad to find Tommy + and the dog mildly agreeable to each other. He had but time to give baby + some milk, and Tommy and Abdiel a bit of bread each. + </p> + <p> + His look when he returned, a look of which he was unaware, but which one + of the girls, who had a year ago been hungry for weeks together, could + read, made her ask him what he had had for dinner. He said he had had no + dinner. + </p> + <p> + “Why?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “Because there wasn't any.” + </p> + <p> + “Didn't your mother keep some for you?” + </p> + <p> + “No; she couldn't.” + </p> + <p> + “Then what will you do?” + </p> + <p> + “Go without,” answered Clare with a smile. + </p> + <p> + “But you've got a mother?” said the girl, rendered doubtful by his smile. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes! I've got two mothers. But their arms ain't long enough,” replied + Clare. + </p> + <p> + The girl wondered: was he an idiot, or what they called a poet? Anyhow, + she had a bun in her pocket, which she had meant to eat at five o'clock, + and she offered him that. + </p> + <p> + “But what will you do yourself? Have you another?” asked Clare, unready to + take it. + </p> + <p> + “No,” she answered; “why shouldn't I go without as well as you?” + </p> + <p> + “Because it won't make things any better. There will be just as much + hunger. It's only shifting it from me to you. That will leave it all the + same!” + </p> + <p> + “No, not the same,” she returned. “I've had a good dinner—as much as + I could eat; and you've had none!” + </p> + <p> + Clare was persuaded, and ate the girl's bun with much satisfaction and + gratitude. + </p> + <p> + When he had his wages in the evening, he spent them as before—a + penny for the baby, and fivepence at Mr. Ball's for Tommy, Abdiel, and + himself. + </p> + <p> + Observing that he came daily, and spent all he earned, except one penny, + on bread; seeing also that the boy's cheeks, though plainly he was in good + health, were very thin, Mr. Ball wondered a little: a boy ought to look + better than that on five pennyworth of bread a day! + </p> + <p> + They were a curious family—Clare, and Tommy, and the baby, and + Abdiel. But the only thing sad about it was, that Clare, who was the head + and the heart of it, and provided for all, should be upheld by no human + sympathy, no human gratitude; that he should be so high above his + companions that, though he never thought he was lonely, he could not help + feeling lonely. Not once did he wish himself rid of any single member of + his adopted family. It was living on his very body; he was growing a + little thinner every day; if things had gone on so, he must before long + have fallen ill; but he never thought of himself at all, body or soul. + </p> + <p> + He had no human sympathy or gratitude, I say, but he had both sympathy and + gratitude from Abdiel. The dog never failed to understand what Clare + wished and expected him to understand. In Clare's absence he took on + himself the protection of the establishment, and was Tommy's superior. + </p> + <p> + Though Tommy was of no use to earn bread, Clare did not therefore allow + him to be idle. He insisted on his keeping the place clean and tidy, and + in this respect Tommy was not quite a failure. He even made him do some + washing, though not much could be accomplished in that way where there was + so little to wash. Now that Abdiel was nurse, Tommy had the run of the + garden, and often went beyond it for an hour or two without Clare's + knowledge, but always took good care to be back before his return. + </p> + <p> + A bale of goods happening to be unpacked in his presence one day, Clare + begged the head-shopman, who was also a partner, for a piece of what it + was wrapped in; and he, having noted how well he worked, and being quite + aware they could not get another such boy at such wages, gave him a large + piece of the soiled canvas. Now Mrs. Person had taught Clare to work,—as + I think all boys ought to be taught, so as not to be helpless without + mother or sister,—and with the help of a needle and some thread the + friendly girl gave him, he soon made of the packing-sheet a pair of + trousers for Tommy, of a primitive but not unserviceable cut, and a shirt + for himself, of fashion more primitive still. He managed it this way: he + cut a hole in the middle of a piece of the stuff, through which to put his + head, and another hole on each side of that, through which to put his + arms, and hemmed them all round. Then, having first hemmed the garment + also, he indued it, and let the voluminous mass arrange itself as it + might, under as much of his jacket and trousers as cohered. + </p> + <p> + My reader may well wonder how, in what was called a respectable shop, he + could be permitted to appear in such poverty; but Mr. Maidstone disliked + the boy so much that he meant to send him away the moment he found another + to do his work, and gave orders that he should never come up from the + basement except when wanted to carry a parcel. The fact was that his + still, solemn, pure face was a haunting rebuke to his master, although he + did not in the least recognize the nature, or this as the cause, of his + dislike. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0035" id="link2HCH0035"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XXXV. Clare disregards the interests of his employers. + </h2> + <p> + Things went on for nearly a month, every one thriving but Clare. Yet was + Clare as peaceful as any, and much happier than Tommy, to whose + satisfaction adventure was needful. + </p> + <p> + One day, a lady, attracted by a muff in the shop-window labelled with a + very low price, entered, and requested to see it. + </p> + <p> + “We can offer you a choice from several of the sort, madam,” said the + shopman. “It is one of a lot we bought cheap, but quite uninjured, after a + fire.” + </p> + <p> + “I want to see the one in the window,” the lady answered. + </p> + <p> + “I hope you will excuse me, madam,” returned the shopman. “The muff is in + a position hard to reach. Besides, we must ask leave to take anything down + after the window is dressed for the day, and the master is out. But I will + bring you the same fur precisely.” + </p> + <p> + So saying, he went, and returned presently with a load of muffs and other + furs, which he threw on the counter. But the lady had heard that “there's + tricks i' the world,” and persisted in demanding a sight of the muff in + the window. Being a “tall personage” and cool, she carried her point. The + muff was hooked down and brought her—not graciously. She glanced at + it, turned it over, looked inside, and said, + </p> + <p> + “I will take it. Please bring a bandbox for it.” + </p> + <p> + “I will, madam,” said the man, and would have taken the muff. But she held + it fast, sought her purse, and laid the price on the counter. The shopman + saw that she knew what both of them were about, took up the money, went + and fetched a bandbox, put the muff in it before her eyes, and tied it up. + The lady held out her hand for it. + </p> + <p> + “Shall I not send it for you, madam?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “I do not live here,” she answered. “I am on my way to the station.” + </p> + <p> + “Here, Jack,” cried the shopman to Clare, whom he caught sight of that + moment going down to the basement, “take this bandbox, and go with the + lady to the station.” + </p> + <p> + If his transaction with the lady had pleased the man, he would not have + sent such a scarecrow to attend her, although she did not belong to the + town, and they might never see her again! The lady, on her part, was about + to insist on carrying the bandbox herself; but when Clare came forward, + and looked up smiling in her face, she was at once aware that she might + trust him. The man stood watching for the moment when she should turn her + back, that he might substitute another bandbox for the one Clare carried; + but Clare never looked at him, and when the lady walked out of the shop, + walked straight out after her. Along the street he followed her steadily, + she looking round occasionally to see that he was behind her. + </p> + <p> + They had gone about half-way to the station, when from a side street came + a lad whom Clare knew as one employed in the packing-room. He carried a + box exactly like that Clare had in his hand, and came softly up behind + him. Clare did not turn his head, for he did not want to talk to him while + he was attending on the lady. + </p> + <p> + “Look spry!” he said in a whisper. “She don't twig! It's all right! + Maidstone sent me.” + </p> + <p> + Clare looked round. The lad held out his bandbox for him to take, and his + empty hand to take Clare's instead. But Clare had by this time begun to + learn a little caution. Besides, the lady's interests were in his care, + and he could be party to nothing done behind her back! He had not time to + think, but knew it his duty to stick by the bandbox. If we have come up + through the animals to be what we are, Clare must have been a dog of a + good, faithful breed, for he did right now as by some ancient instinct. He + held fast to the box, neither slackening his pace nor uttering a word. The + lad gave him a great punch. Clare clung the harder to the box. The lady + heard something, and turned her head. The boy already had his back to her, + and was walking away, but she saw that Clare's face was flushed. + </p> + <p> + “What is the matter?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “I don't rightly know, ma'am. He wanted me to give him my bandbox for his, + and said Mr. Maidstone had sent him. But I couldn't, you know!—except + he asked you first. You did pay for it—didn't you, ma'am?” + </p> + <p> + “Of course I did, or he wouldn't have let me take it away! But if you + don't know what it means, I do.—You haven't been in that shop long, + have you?” + </p> + <p> + “Not quite a month, ma'am.” + </p> + <p> + “I thought so!” + </p> + <p> + She said no more, and Clare followed in silence, wondering not a little. + When they reached the station, she took the bandbox, and looked at the + boy. He returned her gaze, his gray eyes wondering. She searched her purse + for a shilling, but, unable to find one, was not sorry to give him a + half-crown instead. + </p> + <p> + “You had better not mention that I gave you anything?” she said. + </p> + <p> + “I will not, ma'am, except they ask me,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + “But,” he added, his face in a glow of delight, “is all this for me?” + </p> + <p> + “To be sure,” she answered. “I am much obliged to you for—carrying + my parcel. Be a honest boy whatever comes, and you will not repent it.” + </p> + <p> + “I will try, ma'am,” said Clare. + </p> + <p> + But, to speak accurately, he did not know what it was to <i>try</i> to be + honest: he had never been tempted to be anything else, and had scarcely + had the idea of dishonesty in his mind except in relation to Tommy. Do you + say, “Then it was no merit to him”? Certainly it was none. Who was + thinking of merit? Not Clare. He is a sneak who thinks of merit. He is a + cad who can't do a gentlemanly action without thinking himself a fine + fellow! It might be a merit in many a man to act as Clare did, but in + Clare it was pure rightness—or, if you like the word better, + righteousness. + </p> + <p> + Clare as little thought what awaited him. Had there been any truth, any + appreciation of honesty in his vulgar heart, Mr. Maidstone could not have + done as now he did. When his messenger came back with the tale of how he + had been foiled, he said nothing, but his lips grew white. He closed them + fast, and went and stood near the door. When Clare, unsuspecting as + innocent, opened it, he was met by a blow that dazed him, and a fierce + kick that sent him on his back to the curbstone. Almost insensible, but + with the impression that something was interfering between him and his + work, he returned to the door. As he laid his hand on it, it opened a + little, and his master's face, with a hateful sneer upon it, shot into the + crack, and spit in his. Then the door shut so sharply that his fingers + caught an agonizing pinch. At last he understood: he was turned off, and + his day's wages were lost! + </p> + <p> + What would have become of him now but for the half-crown the lady had + given him! She was not <i>quite</i> a lady, or she would have walked out + of the shop, and declined to gain by frustrating a swindle; but she was a + good-hearted woman, and God's messenger to Clare. He bought a bigger loaf + than usual, at which, and the time of the day when he bought it, and the + half-crown presented in payment, Mr. Ball wondered; but neither said + anything—Mr. Ball from indecision, Clare from eagerness to get home + to his family. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0036" id="link2HCH0036"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XXXVI. The policeman. + </h2> + <p> + But, alas! Clare had made another enemy—the lad whose attempt to + change the bandboxes he had foiled. The fellow followed him, lurkingly, + all the way home—on the watch for fit place to pounce upon him, and + punish him for doing right when he wanted him to do wrong. He saw him turn + into the opening that led to the well, and thought now he had him. But + when he followed him in, he was not to be seen! He did not care to cross + the well, not knowing what might meet him on the other side; but here was + news to carry back! He did so; and his master saw in them the opportunity + of indulging his dislike and revenge, and a means of invalidating whatever + Clare might reveal to his discredit! + </p> + <p> + Clare and the baby and Tommy and Abdiel had taken their supper with + satisfaction, and were all asleep. It was to them as the middle of the + night, though it was but past ten o'clock, when Abdiel all at once jumped + right up on his four legs, cocked his ears, listened, leaped off the bed, + ran to the door, and began to bark furiously. He was suddenly blinded by + the glare of a bull's-eye-lantern, and received a kick that knocked all + the bark out of him, and threw him to the other side of the room. A huge + policeman strode quietly in, sending the glare of his bull's-eye all about + the room like a vital, inquiring glance. It discovered, one after the + other, every member of the family. So tired was Clare, however, that he + did not wake until seized by a rough hand, and at one pull dragged + standing on the floor. + </p> + <p> + “Take care of the baby!” he cried, while yet not half awake. + </p> + <p> + “<i>I'll</i> take care o' the baby, never fear!—an' o' you too, you + young rascal!” returned the policeman. + </p> + <p> + He roused Tommy, who was wide awake, but pretending to be asleep, with a + gentle kick. + </p> + <p> + “Up ye get!” he said; and Tommy got up, rubbing his ferret eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Come along!” said the policeman. + </p> + <p> + “Where to?” asked Clare. + </p> + <p> + “You'll see when you get there.” + </p> + <p> + “But I can't leave baby!” + </p> + <p> + “Baby must come along too,” answered the policeman, more gently, for he + had children of his own. + </p> + <p> + “But she has no clothes to go in!” objected Clare. + </p> + <p> + “She must go without, then.” + </p> + <p> + “But she'll take cold!” + </p> + <p> + “She don't run naked in the house, do she?” + </p> + <p> + “No; she can't run yet. I keep her in a blanket. But the blanket ain't + mine; I can't take it with me.” + </p> + <p> + “You're mighty scrup'lous!” returned the policeman. “You don't mind takin' + a 'ole 'ouse an' garding, but you wouldn' think o' takin' a blanket!—Oh, + no! Honest boy <i>you</i> are!” + </p> + <p> + He turned sharp round, and caught Tommy taking a vigorous sight at him. + Tommy, courageous as a lion behind anybody's back, dropped on the rug + sitting. + </p> + <p> + “We've done the house no harm,” said Clare, “and I will <i>not</i> take + the blanket. It would be stealing!” + </p> + <p> + “Then I will take it, and be accountable for it,” rejoined the man. “I + hope that will satisfy you!” + </p> + <p> + “Certainly,” answered Clare. “You are a policeman, and that makes it all + right.” + </p> + <p> + “Rouse up then, and come along. I want to get home.” + </p> + <p> + “Please, sir, wouldn't it do in the morning?” pleaded Clare. “I've no work + now, and could easily go then. That way we should all have a sleep.” + </p> + <p> + “My eye ain't green enough,” replied the policeman. “Look sharp!” + </p> + <p> + Clare said no more, but went to the baby. With sinking but courageous + heart, he wrapped her closer in her blanket, and took her in his arms. He + could not help her crying, but she did not scream. Indeed she never really + screamed; she was not strong enough to scream. + </p> + <p> + “Get along,” said the policeman. + </p> + <p> + Clare led the way with his bundle, sorely incommoded by the size and + weight of the wrapping blanket, the corners of which, one after the other, + would keep working from his hold, and dropping and trailing on the ground. + Behind him came Tommy, a scarecrow monkey, with mischievous face, and + greedy beads for eyes—type not unknown to the policeman, who brought + up the rear, big enough to have all their sizes cut out of him, and yet + pass for a man. Down the stair they went, and out at the front door, which + Clare for the first time saw open, and so by the iron gate into the + street. + </p> + <p> + “Which way, please?” asked Clare, turning half round with the question. + </p> + <p> + “To the right, straight ahead. The likes o' you, young un, might know the + way to the lock-up without astin'!” + </p> + <p> + Clare made no answer, but walked obedient. It was a sad procession—comical + indeed, but too sad when realized to continue ludicrous. The thin, + long-bodied, big-headed, long-haired, long-tailed, short-legged animal + that followed last, seemed to close it with a never-ending end. + </p> + <p> + There was no moon; nothing but the gas-lamps lighted Clare's <i>Via + dolorosa</i>. He hugged the baby and kept on, laying his cheek to hers to + comfort her, and receiving the comfort he did not seek. + </p> + <p> + They came at last to the <i>lock-up</i>, a new building in the rear of the + town-house. There this tangle of humanity, torn from its rock and afloat + on the social sea, drifted trailing into a bare brilliant room, and at its + head, cast down but not destroyed, went heavy-laden Clare, with so much in + him, but only his misery patent to eyes too much used to misery to reap + sorrow from the sight. + </p> + <p> + The head policeman—they called him the inspector—received the + charge, that of house-breaking, and entered it. Then they were taken away + to the lock-up—all but the faithful Abdiel, who, following, received + another of the kicks which that day rained on every member of that epitome + of the human family except the baby, who, small enough for a mother to + drown, was too small for a policeman to kick. The door was shut upon them, + and they had to rest in that grave till the resurrection of the morning + should bring them before the magistrate. + </p> + <p> + Their quarters were worse than chilly—to all but the baby in her + blanket manifoldly wrapped about her, and in Clare's arms. Tommy would + gladly have shared that blanket, more gladly yet would have taken it all + for himself and left the baby to perish; but he had to lie on the broad + wooden bench and make the best of it, which he did by snoring all the + night. It passed drearily for Clare, who kept wide awake. He was not + anxious about the morrow; he had nothing to be ashamed of, therefore + nothing to fear; but he had baby to protect and cherish, and he dared not + go to sleep. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0037" id="link2HCH0037"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XXXVII. The magistrate. + </h2> + <p> + The dawn came at last, and soon after the dawn footsteps, but they + approached only to recede. When the door at length opened, it was but to + let a pair of eyes glance round on them, and close again. The hours seemed + to be always beginning, and never going on. But at the long last came the + big policeman. To Clare's loving eyes, how friendly he looked! + </p> + <p> + “Come, kids!” he said, and took them through a long passage to a room in + the town-hall, where sat a formal-looking old gentleman behind a table. + </p> + <p> + “Good morning, sir!” said Clare, to the astonishment of the magistrate, + who set his politeness down as impudence. + </p> + <p> + Nor was the mistake to be wondered at; for the baby in Clare's arms hid, + with the mountain-like folds of its blanket, the greater part of his face, + and the old gentleman's eyes fell first on Tommy; and if ever <i>scamp</i> + was written clear on a countenance, it was written clear on Tommy's. + </p> + <p> + “Hold your impudent tongue!” said a policeman, and gave Clare a cuff on + the head. + </p> + <p> + “Hold, John,” interposed the magistrate; “it is my part to punish, not + yours.” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, sir,” said Clare. + </p> + <p> + “I will thank <i>you</i>, sir,” returned the magistrate, “not to speak + till I put to you the questions I am about to put to you.—What is + the charge against the prisoners?” + </p> + <p> + “Housebreaking, sir,” answered the big man. + </p> + <p> + “What! Housebreaking! Boys with a baby! House-breakers don't generally go + about with babies in their arms! Explain the thing.” + </p> + <p> + The policeman said he had received information that unlawful possession + had been taken of a building commonly known as The Haunted House, which + had been in Chancery for no one could tell how many years. He had gone to + see, and had found the accused in possession of the best bedroom—fast + asleep, surrounded by indications that they had made themselves at home + there for some time. He had brought them along. + </p> + <p> + The magistrate turned his eyes on Clare. + </p> + <p> + “You hear what the policeman says?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” answered Clare. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” + </p> + <p> + “Sir?” + </p> + <p> + “What have you to say to it?” + </p> + <p> + “Nothing, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you allow it is true?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “What right had you to be there?” + </p> + <p> + “None, sir. But we had nowhere else to go, and nobody seemed to want the + place. We didn't hurt anything. We swept away a multitude of dead moths, + and killed a lot of live ones, and destroyed a whole granary of grubs; and + the dog killed a great rat.” + </p> + <p> + “What is your name?” + </p> + <p> + “Clare—Porson,” answered Clare, with a little intervening + hesitation. + </p> + <p> + “You are not quite sure?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; that is my name; but I have another older one that I don't know.” + </p> + <p> + “A bad answer! The name you go by is not your own! Hum! Is that boy your + brother?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Your cousin?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir; he's not any relation of mine. He's a tramp.” + </p> + <p> + “And what are you?” + </p> + <p> + “Something like one now, sir, but I wasn't always.” + </p> + <p> + “What were you?” + </p> + <p> + “Not much, sir. I didn't <i>do</i> anything till just lately.” + </p> + <p> + He could not bear at the moment to talk of his be-loved dead. He felt as + if the old gentleman would be rude to them. + </p> + <p> + “Is the infant there your sister?” + </p> + <p> + “She's my sister the big way: God made her. She's not my sister any other + way.” + </p> + <p> + “How does she come to be with you then?” + </p> + <p> + “I took her out of the water-butt. Some one threw her in, and I heard the + splash, and went and got her out.” + </p> + <p> + “Why did you not take her to the police?” + </p> + <p> + “I never thought of that. It was all I could do to keep her alive. I + couldn't have done it if we hadn't got into the house.” + </p> + <p> + “How long ago is that?” + </p> + <p> + “Nearly a month, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “And you've kept her there ever since?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir—as well as I could. I had only sixpence a day.” + </p> + <p> + “And what's that boy's name?” + </p> + <p> + “Tommy, sir.—I don't know any other.” + </p> + <p> + “Nice respectable company you keep for one who has evidently been well + brought up!” + </p> + <p> + “Baby's quite respectable, sir!” + </p> + <p> + “Hum!” + </p> + <p> + “And for Tommy, if I didn't keep him, he would steal. I'm teaching him not + to steal.” + </p> + <p> + “What woman have you got with you?” + </p> + <p> + “Baby's the only woman we've got, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “But who attends to her?” + </p> + <p> + “I do, sir. She only wants washing and rolling round in the blanket; she's + got no clothes to speak of. When I'm away, Tommy and Abdiel take care of + her.” + </p> + <p> + “Abdiel! Who on earth is that? Where is he?” said the magistrate, looking + round for some fourth member of the incomprehensible family. + </p> + <p> + “He's not on earth, sir; he's in heaven—the good angel, you know, + sir, that left Satan and came back again to God.” + </p> + <p> + “You must take him to the county-asylum, James!” said the magistrate, + turning to the tall policeman. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, he's all right, sir!” said James. + </p> + <p> + “Please, sir,” interrupted Clare eagerly, “I didn't mean the dog was in + heaven yet. I meant the angel I named him after!” + </p> + <p> + “They <i>had</i> a little dog with them, sir!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes—Abdiel. He wanted to be a prisoner too, but they wouldn't let + him in. He's a good dog—better than Tommy.” + </p> + <p> + “So! like all the rest of you, you can keep a dog!” + </p> + <p> + “He followed me home because he hadn't anybody to love,” said Clare. “He + don't have much to eat, but he's content. He would eat three times as much + if I could give it him; but he never complains.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you work of any sort?” + </p> + <p> + “I had till yesterday, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Where?” + </p> + <p> + “At Mr. Maidstone's shop.” + </p> + <p> + “What wages had you?” + </p> + <p> + “Sixpence a day.” + </p> + <p> + “And you lived, all three of you, on that?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; all four of us, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you do at the shop?” + </p> + <p> + “Please your worship,” interposed policeman James, “he was sent about his + business yesterday.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” rejoined Clare, who did not understand the phrase, “I was sent with + a lady to carry her bandbox to the station.” + </p> + <p> + “And when you came back, you was turned away, wasn't you?” said James. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “What had you done?” asked the magistrate. + </p> + <p> + “I don't quite know, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “A likely story!” + </p> + <p> + Clare made no reply. + </p> + <p> + “Answer me directly.” + </p> + <p> + “Please, sir, you told me not to speak unless you asked me a question.” + </p> + <p> + “I said, 'A likely story!' which meant, 'Do you expect me to believe + that?'” + </p> + <p> + “Of course I do, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Because it is true.” + </p> + <p> + “How am I to believe that?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know, sir. I only know I've got to speak the truth. It's the + person who hears it that's got to believe it, ain't it, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “You've got to prove it.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't think so, sir; I never was told so; I was only told I must speak + the truth; I never was told I must prove what I said.—I've been + several times disbelieved, I know.” + </p> + <p> + “I should think so indeed!” + </p> + <p> + “It was by people who did not know me.” + </p> + <p> + “Never by people who did know you?” + </p> + <p> + “I think not, sir. I never was by the people at home.” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! you could not read what they were thinking!” + </p> + <p> + “Were you not believed when you were at home, sir?” + </p> + <p> + The magistrate's doubt of Clare had its source in the fact that, although + now he was more careful to speak the truth than are most people, it was + not his habit when a boy, and he had suffered severely in consequence. He + was annoyed, therefore, at his question, set him down as a hypocritical, + boastful prig, and was seized with a strong desire to shame him. + </p> + <p> + “I remand the prisoner for more evidence. Take the children to the + workhouse,” he said. + </p> + <p> + Tommy gave a sudden full-sized howl. He had heard no good of the + workhouse. + </p> + <p> + “The baby is mine!” pleaded Clare. + </p> + <p> + “Are you the father of it?” said the big policeman. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, I think so: I saved her life.—She would have been drowned if I + hadn't looked for her when I heard the splash!” reasoned Clare, his face + drawn with grief and the struggle to keep from crying. + </p> + <p> + “She's not yours,” said the magistrate. “She belongs to the parish. Take + her away, James.” + </p> + <p> + The big policeman came up to take her. Clare would have held her tight, + but was afraid of hurting her. He did draw back from the outstretched + hands, however, while he put a question or two. + </p> + <p> + “Please, sir, will the parish be good to her?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Much better than you.” + </p> + <p> + “Will it let me go and see her?” he asked again, with an outbreaking sob. + </p> + <p> + “You can't go anywhere till you're out of this,” answered the big + policeman, and, not ungently, took the baby from him. + </p> + <p> + “And when will that be, please?” asked Clare, with his empty arms still + held out. + </p> + <p> + “That depends on his worship there.” + </p> + <p> + “Hold your tongue, James,” said the magistrate. “Take the boy away, John.” + </p> + <p> + “Please, sir, where am I going to?” asked Clare. + </p> + <p> + “To prison, till we find out about you.” + </p> + <p> + “Please, sir, I didn't mean to steal her. I didn't know the parish wanted + her!” + </p> + <p> + “Take the boy away, I tell you!” cried the magistrate angrily. “His tongue + goes like the hopper of a mill!” + </p> + <p> + James, carrying the baby on one arm, was already pushing Tommy before him + by the neck. Tommy howled, and rubbed his red eyes with what was left him + of cuffs, but did not attempt resistance. + </p> + <p> + “Please, don't let anybody hold her upside down, policeman!” cried Clare. + “She doesn't like it!—Oh, baby! baby!” + </p> + <p> + John tightened his grasp on his arm, and hurried him away in another + direction. + </p> + <p> + Where the big policeman issued with his charge, there was Abdiel hovering + about as if his spring were wound up so tight that it wouldn't go off. How + he came to be at that door, I cannot imagine. + </p> + <p> + When he spied Tommy, he rushed at him. Tommy gave him a kick that rolled + him over. + </p> + <p> + “Don't want <i>you</i>, you mangy beast!” he said, and tried to kick him + again. + </p> + <p> + Abdiel kept away from him after that, but followed the party to the + workhouse, where also, to his disgust, plainly expressed, he was refused + admittance. He returned to the entrance by which Clare had vanished from + his eyes the night before, and lay down there. I suspect he had an + approximate canine theory of the whole matter. He knew at least that Clare + had gone in with the others at that door; that he had not come out with + them at the other door; that, therefore, in all probability, he was within + that door still. + </p> + <p> + The police made inquiry at Mr. Maidstone's shop. Reasons for his dismissal + were there given involving no accusation: there was little desire in that + quarter to have the matter searched into. There was therefore nothing to + the discredit of the boy, beyond his running to earth in the neglected + house like a wild animal. After three days he was set at liberty. + </p> + <p> + As the big policeman led the way to the door to send him out, Clare + addressed him thus: + </p> + <p> + “Please, Mr. James, may I go back to the house for a little while?” + </p> + <p> + “Well, you <i>are</i> an innocent!” said James; “—or,” he added, + “the biggest little humbug ever I see!—No, it's not likely!” + </p> + <p> + “I only wanted,” explained Clare, “to set things straight a bit. The house + is cleaner than it was, <i>I</i> know, but it is not in such good order as + when we went into it. I don't like to leave it worse than we found it.” + </p> + <p> + “Never you heed,” said James, believing him perfectly before he knew what + he was about. “The house don't belong to nobody, so far as ever I heerd, + an' the things'll rot all the same wherever they stand.” + </p> + <p> + “But I should like,” persisted Clare. + </p> + <p> + “I couldn't do it off my own hook, an' his worship would think you only + wanted to steal something. The best thing you can do is to leave the place + at once, an' go where nobody knows nothing agin you.” + </p> + <p> + Thought Clare with himself, “If the house doesn't belong to anybody, why + wouldn't they let me stay in it?” + </p> + <p> + But the policeman opened the door, and as he was turning to say good-bye + to him, gave him a little shove, and closed it behind him. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0038" id="link2HCH0038"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XXXVIII. The workhouse. + </h2> + <p> + He went into the street with a white face and a dazed look—not from + any hardship he had experienced during his confinement, for he had been in + what to him was clover, but because he had lost the baby and Abdiel, and + because his mind had been all the time in perplexity with regard to the + proceedings of justice: he did not and could not see that he had done + anything wrong. Throughout his life it never mattered much to Clare to be + accused of anything wrong, but it did trouble him, this time at least, to + be punished for doing what was right. He took it very quietly, however. + </p> + <p> + Indignation may be a sign of innocence, but it is no necessary consequence + of innocence any more than it is a proof of righteousness. A man will be + fiercely indignant at an accusation that happens to be false, who did the + very thing last week, and is ready to do it again. Indignation against + wrong to another even, is no proof of a genuine love of fair play. Clare + hardly resented anything done to himself. His inward unconscious purity + held him up, and made him look events in the face with an eye that was + single and therefore at once forgiving and fearless. The man who has no + mote in his own eye cannot be knocked down by the beam in his neighbour's; + while he who is busy with the mote in his neighbour's may stumble to + destruction over the beam in his own. + </p> + <p> + White and dazed as he came out, the moment he stepped across the + threshold, Clare met the comfort of God waiting for him. His eyes blinded + with the great light, for it was a glorious morning in the beginning of + June, he found himself assailed in unknightly fashion below the knee: + there, to his unspeakable delight, was Abdiel, clinging to him with his + fore-legs, and wagging his tail as if, like the lizards for terror, he + would shake it off for gladness! What a blessed little pendulum was + Abdiel's tail! It went by that weight of the clock of the universe called + devotion. It was the escapement of that delight which is of the essence of + existence, and which, when God has set right “our disordered clocks,” will + be its very consciousness. + </p> + <p> + Clare stood for a moment and looked about him. The needle of his compass + went round and round. It had no north. He could not go back to the shop; + he could not go back to the house; baby was in the workhouse, but he could + not stay there even if they would let him! Neither could he stop in the + town; the policeman said he must go away! Where was he to go? There was + not in the world one place for him better than another! But they would let + him see baby before he went!—and off he set to find the workhouse. + </p> + <p> + Abdiel followed quietly at his heel, for his master walked lost in + thought, and Abdiel was too hungry to make merry without his notice. + Clare, fresh to the world, had been a great reader for one so young, and + could encounter new experience with old knowledge. In his mind stood a + pile of fir-cones, and dried sticks, and old olive wood, which the merest + touch of experience would set in a blaze of practical conclusion. But the + workhouse was so near that his reflections before he reached it amounted + only to this—that there are worse places than a prison when you have + done nothing to deserve being put in it. A palace may be one of them. You + get enough to eat in a prison; in a palace you do not; you get too much! + </p> + <p> + The porter at the workhouse informed him it was not the day for seeing the + inmates; but the tall policeman had given Clare a hint, and he requested + to see the matron. After much demur and much entreaty, the man went and + told the matron. She, knowing the story of the baby, wanted to see Clare, + and was so much pleased with his manners and looks, that his sad clothes + pleaded for and not against him. She took him at once to the room where + the baby was with many more, telling him he must prove she was his by + picking her out. It was not wonderful that Clare, who knew the faces of + animals so well, should know his own baby the moment he saw her, + notwithstanding that she was decently clothed, and had already improved in + appearance. But the nurses declared they had never before seen a man, not + to say a boy, who could tell one baby from another. + </p> + <p> + “Why,” rejoined Clare, “my dog Abdiel could pick out the baby he was nurse + to!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, but he's a dog!” + </p> + <p> + “And I'm a boy!” said Clare. + </p> + <p> + He descried her on the lap of an old woman, seeming to him very old, who + was at the head of the nursery-department. Old as she was, however, she + had a keen eye, and a handsome countenance, with a quantity of white hair. + Unlike the rest of the women, though not far removed from them socially, + she knew several languages, so far as to read and enjoy books in them. Now + and then a great woman may be found in a workhouse, like a first folio of + Shakspere on a bookstall, among—oh, such companions! + </p> + <p> + “Let me take her,” said Clare modestly, holding out his hands for the + baby. + </p> + <p> + “Are you sure you will not let her drop?” + </p> + <p> + “Why, ma'am,” answered Clare, “she's my own baby! It was I took her out of + the water-butt! I washed and fed her every day!—not that I could do + it so well as you, ma'am!” + </p> + <p> + She gave him the baby, and watched him with the eye of a seeress, for she + had a wonderful insight into character, and that is one of the roots of + prophecy. + </p> + <p> + “You are a good and true lad,” she said at length, “and a hard success + lies before you. I don't know what you will come to, but, with those eyes, + and that forehead, and those hands, if you come to anything but good, you + will be terribly to blame.” + </p> + <p> + “I will try to be good, ma'am,” said Clare simply. “But I wish I knew what + they put me in prison for!” + </p> + <p> + “What, indeed, my lamb!” she returned; and her eyes flashed with + indignation under the cornice of her white hair. “They'll be put in prison + one day themselves that did it!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I don't mind!” said Clare. “I don't want them to be punished. You see + I'm only waiting!” + </p> + <p> + “What are you waiting for, sonny?” asked the old woman. + </p> + <p> + “I don't exactly know—though I know better than what I was put in + prison for. Nobody ever told me anything, but I'm always waiting for + something.” + </p> + <p> + “The something will come, child. You will have what you want! Only go on + as you're doing, and you'll be a great man one day.” + </p> + <p> + “I don't want to be a great man,” answered Clare; “I'm only waiting till + what is coming does come.” + </p> + <p> + The woman cast down her eyes, and seemed lost in thought. Clare dandled + the baby gently in his arms, and talked loving nonsense to her. + </p> + <p> + “Well,” said the old woman, raising at length her eyes, with a look of + reverence in them, to Clare's, “I can't help you, and you want no help of + mine. I've got no money, but—” + </p> + <p> + “I've got plenty of money, ma'am,” interrupted Clare. “I've got a whole + shilling in my pocket!” + </p> + <p> + “Bless the holy innocent!” murmured the woman. “—Well, I can only + promise you this—that as long as I live, the baby sha'n't forget + you; and I ain't so old as I look.” + </p> + <p> + Here the matron came up, and said he had better be going now; but if he + came back any day after a month, he should see the baby again. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, ma'am,” replied Clare. “Keep her a good baby, please. I will + come for her one day.” + </p> + <p> + “Please God I live to see that day!” said the old woman. “I think I + shall.” + </p> + <p> + She did live to see it, though I cannot tell that part of the story now. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0039" id="link2HCH0039"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XXXIX. Away. + </h2> + <p> + So Clare went once more into the street, where Abdiel was again watching + for him, and stood on the pavement, not knowing which way to turn. The big + policeman had told him that no one there would give him work after what + had happened; and now, therefore, he was only waiting for a direction to + present itself. In a moment it occurred to him that, having come in at one + end of the town, he had better go out at the other. He followed the + suggestion, and Abdiel followed him—his head hanging and his tail + also, for the joy of recovering his master had used up all the remnant of + wag there was in his clock. He had no more frolic or scamper in him now + than when Clare first saw him. How the poor thing had subsisted during the + last few days, it were hard to tell. It was much that he had escaped death + from ill-usage. Meanest of wretches are the boys or men that turn like + grim death upon the helpless. Except they change their way, helplessness + will overtake them like a thief, and they will look for some one to + deliver them and find none. Traitors to those whom it is their duty to + protect, they will one day find themselves in yet more pitiful plight than + ever were they. But I fear they will not believe it before their fate has + them by the throat. + </p> + <p> + Clare saw that the dog was famished. He stopped at a butcher's and bought + him a scrap of meat for a penny. Then he had elevenpence with which to + begin the world afresh, and was not hungry. + </p> + <p> + Out on the highway they went, in a perfect English summer day, with all + the world before them. It was not an oyster for Clare to open with sword, + pen, or <i>sesame</i>; but he might find a place on the outside of it for + all that, and a way over it into a better—one that he <i>could</i> + open and get at the heart of. The sun shone as on the day of the + earthquake—deep in Clare's dimmest memorial cavern;—shone as + if he knew, come what might, that all was well; that if he shone his heart + out and went dark, nothing would go wrong; while, for the present, + everything depended on his shining his glorious best. + </p> + <p> + “Come along, Abdiel,” said Clare; “we're going to see what comes next. At + the worst, you know what hunger is, doggie, and that a good deal of it can + be borne pretty well—though I'm not fond of it any more than you, + doggie! We'll not beg till we're downright forced, and we won't steal. + When that's the next thing, we'll just sit down, wag our tails, and die.—There!” + </p> + <p> + He gave him the last piece of his meat, and they trudged on for some time + without speaking. + </p> + <p> + The sun was very hot, for it was past noon an hour or two, when they came + to a public-house, with a pump before it, and a trough. Clare grew very + thirsty when he saw the pump, and imagined the rush of a thick sparkling + curve from its spout. But its handle was locked with a chain, to keep men + and women from having water instead of beer. He went with longing to the + trough, but the water in it was so unclean that, thirsty as he was, he + could not look on it even as a last resource. He walked into the house. + </p> + <p> + “Please, ma'am,” he said to the woman at the bar, “would you allow me to + pump myself a little water to drink?” + </p> + <p> + “You think I've got nothing to do but serve tramps with water!” she + answered, throwing back her head till her nostrils were at right angles + with the horizon. + </p> + <p> + “I'm not a tramp, ma'am,” said Clare. + </p> + <p> + “Show me your money, then, for a pot of beer, like other honest folk.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid I told you wrong, ma'am,” returned Clare. “I'm afraid I <i>am</i> + a tramp after all; only <i>I</i>'m looking for work, and most tramps + ain't, I fancy.” + </p> + <p> + “They all <i>say</i> they are,” answered the woman. “That's your story, + and that's theirs!” + </p> + <p> + “I've got elevenpence, ma'am; and could, I dare say, buy a pot of beer, + though I don't know the price of one; but I don't see where I'm going to + get any more money, and what we have must serve Abdiel and me till we do.” + </p> + <p> + “What right have <i>you</i> to a dog, when you ain't fit to pay your penny + for a half-pint o' beer?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't be hard on the young 'un, mis'ess; he don't look a bad sort!” said + a man who stood by with a pewter pot in his hand. + </p> + <p> + Clare wondered why he had his cord-trousers pulled up a few inches and + tied under his knees with a string, which made little bags of them there. + He had to think for a mile after they left the public-house before he + discovered that it was to keep them from tightening on his knees when he + stooped, and so incommoding him at his work. + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, sir,” he said. “I'm not a bad sort. I didn't know it was any + harm to ask for water. It ain't begging, is it, sir?” + </p> + <p> + “Not as I knows on,” replied the man. “Here, take the lot!” + </p> + <p> + He offered Clare his nearly emptied pewter. + </p> + <p> + “No, thank you, sir,” answered Clara “I am thirsty—but not so + thirsty as to take your drink from you. I can get on to the next pump. + Perhaps that won't be chained up like a bull!” + </p> + <p> + “Here, mis'ess!” cried the man. “This is a mate as knows a neighbour when + he sees him. I'll stand him a half-pint. There's yer money!” + </p> + <p> + Without a word the woman flung the man's penny in the till, and drew Clare + a half-pint of porter. Clare took it eagerly, turned to the man, said, “I + thank you, sir, and wish your good health,” and drained the pewter mug. He + had never before tasted beer, or indeed any drink stronger than tea, and + he did not like it. But he thanked his benefactor again, and went back to + the trough. + </p> + <p> + “Dogs don't drink beer,” he said to himself. “They know better!” and + lifting Abdiel he held him over the trough. Abdiel was not so fastidious + as his master, and lapped eagerly. Then they pursued their uncertain way. + </p> + <p> + Ready to do anything, he thought the shabbiness of his clothes would be a + greater bar to indoor than to outdoor work, and applied therefore at every + farm they came to. But he did not look so able as he was, and boys were + not much wanted. He never pitied himself, and never entreated: to beg for + work was beggary, and to beggary he would not descend until driven by + approaching death. But now and then some tender-hearted woman, oftener one + of ripe years, struck with his look—its endurance, perhaps, or its + weariness mingled with hope—would perceive the necessity of the boy, + and offer him the food he did not ask—nor like him the less that, + never doubting what came to one was for both, he gave the first share of + it to Abdiel. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0040" id="link2HCH0040"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XL. Maly. + </h2> + <p> + Travelling on in vague hope, meeting with kindness enough to keep him + alive, but getting no employment, sleeping in what shelter he could find, + and never missing the shelter he could not find, for the weather was + exceptionally warm for the warm season, he came one day to a village where + the strangest and hardest experience he ever encountered awaited him. What + part of the country he was in, or what was the name of the village, he did + not know. He seldom asked a question, seldom uttered word beyond a polite + greeting, but kept trudging on and on, as if the goal of his expectation + were ever drawing nigher. He felt no curiosity as to the names of the + places he passed through. Why should the names of towns and villages + strung on a road to nowhere in particular, interest him? He did, however, + long afterward, come to know the name of this village, and its + topographical relations: the place itself was branded on his brain. + </p> + <p> + He entered it in the glow of a hot noon, and had walked nearly through it + without meeting any one, for it was the dinner-hour, and savoury odours + filled the air, when a little girl came from a neat house, and ran farther + down the street. He was very tired, very dusty, had eaten nothing that + day, had begun to despair of work, and was wishing himself clear of the + houses that he might throw himself down. But something in the look of the + child made him quicken his weary step as he followed her. He overtook her, + passed her, and saw her face. Heavens! it was Maly, grown wonderfully + bigger! He turned and caught her up in his arms. She gave a screech of + terror, and he set her down in keenest dismay. Finding that he was not + going to run away with her, she did not run farther from him than to safe + parleying distance. + </p> + <p> + “You bad boy!” she cried; “you're not to touch me! I will tell mamma!” + </p> + <p> + “Why, Maly! don't you know me?” + </p> + <p> + “No, I don't You are a dirty boy!” + </p> + <p> + “But, Maly!—” + </p> + <p> + “My name is not Maly; it's Mary; and I don't know you.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you forgotten Clare, Maly?—Clare that used to carry you about + all day long?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; I have forgotten you. You're a dirty, ragged beggar-boy! You're a + bad boy! Boys with holes in their clothes are bad boys.—Nursie told + me so, and she knows everything! She told me herself she knew everything!” + </p> + <p> + She gave another though milder scream: involuntarily, Clare had taken a + step toward her, with his hand in his pocket, searching, as in the old + days when she cried, for something to give her. But, alas, his pockets + were now as empty as his stomach! there was <i>nothing</i> in them—not + even a crumb saved from a scanty meal! While he was yet searching, the + little child, his heart's love—if indeed it was she—stooped, + gathered a handful of dust, and threw it at him. The big boy burst into + tears. The child mocked him for a minute, and when Clare looked up again, + drying his eyes with a rag, she was gone. + </p> + <p> + He felt no resentment; love, old memories, his strange gentleness, and + pity for Maly and Maly's mother, saved him from it. The child was big and + plump and rosy, but oh, how fallen from his little Maly! And, her child + grown such, the mother was poor indeed, though up in the dome of the + angels! If she did not know the change in her, it was the worse, for she + could not help! Clare, like most of my readers, had not yet learned to + trust God for everything. But he was true to Maly. Miserable over her + backsliding, he said to himself that evil counsellors were more to blame + than she. + </p> + <p> + “Did she know me at all?” he pondered; “or has she forgot me altogether?” + </p> + <p> + He began to doubt whether the girl was really Maly, or one very like her. + About half an hour after, he met a poor woman with a bundle on her bowed + back, who gave him a piece of bread. When he had eaten that, he began to + doubt whether he had met any little girl. He remembered that he had often + come to himself, as he wandered along the road, to find he had been lost + in fancies of old scenes or imaginary new ones; waked up, he did not at + once realize himself a poor lad on the tramp for work he could not find: + his conceptions were for a time stronger than the things around him. He + was thereupon comforted with the hope that he had not in reality seen + Maly, but had imagined the whole affair. How was it possible, though, that + he should imagine such horrible things of his little sister? On the other + hand, was it not more possible for a fainting brain to imagine such a + misery, than for the live child to behave in such a fashion? Every day for + many days he tormented himself with like reasonings; but by degrees the + occurrence, whether fancy or fact, receded, and he grew more conscious of + tramping, tramping along. He grew also more hopeless of getting work, but + not more doubtful that everything was right. For he knew of nothing he had + done to bring these things upon him. + </p> + <p> + His quiet content never left him. At the worst pinch of hunger and cold, + he never fell into despair. I do not know what merit he had in this, for + he was constituted more hopeful and placid than I ever knew another. What + he had merit in was, that not for a hungry boy's most powerful temptation, + something to eat, would he even imagine himself doing what must not be + done. He would not lead himself into temptation. Thus he pleased the Power—let + me rather say, ten times more truly—the Father from whom he came. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0041" id="link2HCH0041"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XLI. The caravans. + </h2> + <p> + Within a fortnight or so after the police had dismissed him, blowing him + loose on the world like a dandelion-seed in the wind, Clare had an + adventure which not only gave him pleasure, but led to work and food and + interest in life. + </p> + <p> + Passing one day from a cross-country road into the highway, he came + straight on the flank of a travelling menagerie. It was one of some size, + and Clare saw at a glance that its horses were in fair condition. The + front part of the little procession had already gone by, and an elephant + was passing at the moment with a caravan—of feline creatures, as + Clare afterwards learned, behind him. He drew it with absolute ease, but + his head seemed to be dragged earthward by the weight of his trunk, as he + plodded wearily along. A world of delight woke in the heart of the boy. He + had read much about strange beasts, but had never seen one. His impulse + was to run straight to the elephant, and tell him he loved him. For he was + a live beast, and Clare loved every creature, common or strange, wild or + tame, ordinary or wonderful. But prudent thought followed, and he saw it + better to hover around, in the hope of a chance of being useful. Oh, the + treasures of wonder and knowledge on the other side of those thin walls of + wood, so slowly drawn along the dusty highway! If but for a moment he + might gaze on their living marvels! He had no money, but things came to + him without money—not so plentifully as he could sometimes wish—but + they came, and so might this! Employment among those animals would be well + worth the long hungry waiting! This might be the very work he had been + looking for without knowing it! It was for this, perhaps, he had been kept + so long waiting—till the caravans should come along the road, and he + be at the corner as they passed! He did not know how often a man may think + thus and see it come to nothing—because there is better yet behind, + for which more waiting is wanted. + </p> + <p> + At the end of the procession came a bear, shuffling along uncomfortably. + It went to Clare's heart to see how far from comfortable the poor beast + appeared. “What a life it would be,” he thought, “to have all the + creatures in all those caravans to make happy! That would be a life worth + living!” + </p> + <p> + It was a worthy ambition—infinitely higher than that of boys who + want to do something great, or clever, or strong. As to those who want to + be rich—for their ambition I have an utter contempt. How gladly + would I drive that meanness out of any boy's heart! To fall in with the + work of the glad creator, and help him in it—that is the only + ambition worth having. It may not look a grand thing to do it in a + caravan, but it takes the mind of Christ to do it anywhere. + </p> + <p> + Behind the bear, closing the procession, came a stoutish, + good-tempered-looking man, in a small spring-cart, drawn by a small pony: + he was the earthly owner of that caged life, with all its gathered + discomforts. Clare lifted his cap as he passed him—a politeness of + which the man took no notice, because the boy was ragged. The moment he + was past, Clare fell in behind as one of the procession. He was prudent + enough, however, not to go so near as to look intrusive. + </p> + <p> + When he had followed thus for a mile or two, he saw, by signs patent to + every wanderer, that they were coming near a town. Before reaching it, + however, they arrived at a spot where the hedges receded from the road, + leaving a little green sward on the sides of it, and there the long line + came to a halt. + </p> + <p> + The menagerie had, the day before, been exhibited at a fair, and was now + on its way to another, to be held the next day in the town they were + approaching: they had made the halt in order to prepare their entrance. To + let a part of their treasure be seen, was the best way to rouse desire + after what was yet hidden: they were going, therefore, to take out an + animal or two more to walk in parade. Clare sat down at a little distance, + and wondered what was coming next. + </p> + <p> + Experience of tramps had made the men suspicious, and it may be they + disliked having their proceedings watched by anybody; but, happily for + Clare, it was the master himself who came up to him, not without something + of menace in his bearing. The boy was never afraid, and hope started up + full grown as the man approached. He rose and took off his cap—a + very ready action with Clare, which sprung from pure politeness, and from + nothing either selfish or cringing. But the man put his own interpretation + on the civility. + </p> + <p> + “What are you hanging about here for?” he said rudely. + </p> + <p> + Now Clare had a perfect right to answer, had he so pleased, that he was on + the king's highway, where no one had a right to interfere with him. But he + had the habit—he could not help it; it was natural to him—of + thinking first of the other party's side of a question—a rare gift, + which served him better than he knew. For the other may be in the right, + and it is an ugly thing to interfere with any man's right; while a man's + own rights are never so much good to him as when he waives them. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon, sir,” he said; “I did not understand you wished to be + alone. I never thought you would mind me. Will it be far enough if I go + just out of sight, for I am very tired? It is pleasant, besides, to know + there are friends near!” + </p> + <p> + The man recognized in Clare the modes and speech of a gentleman; and + having, in the course of his wandering life, seen and known a good many + strange things, he suspected under the rags a history. But he was not + interested enough to stop and inquire into it. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind,” he said, in altered tone; “I see you're after no mischief!” + and with that walked away, leaving Clare to do as he pleased. + </p> + <p> + A few minutes more went by. Clare sat hungry and sleepy on the grass by + the roadside. Before he knew, he was on his feet, startled by a terrible + noise. The lion had opened his great jaws, and his brown leathery sides, + working like a pair of bellows, had sent from his throat a huge blast, + half roar, half howl. When Clare came to himself he knew, though he had + never heard it before, that the fearful sound was the voice of the lion. + He did not know that all it meant was, that his majesty had thought of his + dinner. It was not indeed much more than an audible gape. He stood for a + moment, not at all terrified, but half expecting to see a huge yellow + animal burst out of one of the caravans—he could not guess which: + the roar was much too loud to indicate one rather than another. He sat + down again, but was not any longer inclined to sleep. For a time, however, + no second roar came from the ribs of the captive monarch. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0042" id="link2HCH0042"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XLII. Nimrod. + </h2> + <p> + That there had been a fair not far off will partly account for what + follows. As Clare sat resting, which was all he could do, with sleep fled + and food nowhere, a roar of a different kind invaded his ears. It came + along the road this time, not from the caravans. He looked, and spied what + would have brought the heart into the throat of many a grown man. Away on + the road, in the direction whence the menagerie had come, he saw a cloud + of dust and a confused struggle, presently resolved into two men, each at + the end of a rope, and an animal between them attached to the ropes by a + ring in his nose. It was a bull, in terrible excitement, bounding this way + and that, dragging and driving the men—doing his best in fact to + break away, now from the one of them, now from the other, and now from + both at once. It must have tortured him to pull those strong men by the + cartilage of his nose, but he was in too great a rage to feel it much. + Every other moment his hoofs would be higher than his head, and again + hoofs and head and horns would be scraping the ground in a fruitless rush + to send one of his tormentors into space beyond the ken of bulls. With + swift divergence, like a scenting hound, he twisted and shot his huge + body. The question between men and bull seemed one of endurance. + </p> + <p> + The pale-faced boy, though full of interest in the strife, yet having had + no food that day, was not in sufficient spirits to run and meet the animal + whirlwind, so as to watch closer its chances; but the struggle came at + length near enough for him to follow almost every detail of it: he could + see the bloody foam drip from the poor beast's nostrils. When about fifty + yards away, the bull, by a sudden twist, wrenched the rope from the hands + of one of the men. He fell on his back. The other dropped his rope and + fled. The bull came scouring down the highway. + </p> + <p> + A second roar, as of muffled thunder, issued from the leathery flanks of + the lion. The bull made a sudden stop, scoring up the ground with his + hoofs. It seemed as if in full career he started back. Then down went his + head, and like a black flash, its accompanying thunder a bellow of defiant + contempt and wrath, he charged one of the caravans. He had taken the + hungry lion's roar for a challenge to combat. It was nothing to the bull + that the voice was that of an unknown monster; he was ready for whatever + the monster might prove. + </p> + <p> + The men busy about the caravans and wagons, caught sight of him coming, + and in the first moment of terror at a beast to which they were not + accustomed, bolted for refuge behind or upon them: they would sooner have + encountered their tiger broke loose. The same moment, with astounding + shock, the head of the bull went crack against the near hind-wheel of the + caravan in whose shafts stood the elephant, patiently waiting orders. The + bull had not caught sight of the elephant, or he would doubtless have + “gone for” him, not the caravan. His ear, finer than Clare's, must have + distinguished whence the roar proceeded: in that caravan, sure enough, was + the lion, with the rest of the great cats. He answered the blow of the + bull's head with a roar thunderously different from his late sleepy + leonine sigh. It roused every creature in the menagerie. From the greatest + to the smallest each took up its cry. Out burst a tornado of terrific + sound, filling with horror the quiet noontide. The roaring and yelling of + lion, tiger, and leopard, the laughter of hyena, the howling of jackal, + and the snarling of bear, mingled in hideous dissonance with the cries of + monkeys and parrots; while certain strange gurgles made Clare's heart, + lover of animals though he was, quiver, and his blood creep. The same + instant, however, he woke to the sense that he might do something: he ran + to the caravans. + </p> + <p> + By this time the men, master and all, fully roused to the far worse that + might follow the attack of the bull, had caught up what weapons were at + hand, and rushed to repel the animal For more than one or two of them it + might have proved a fatal encounter, but that the enraged beast had + entangled his horns in the spokes and rim of the wheel. In terror of what + might be approaching him from behind, he was struggling wildly to + extricate them. Peril upon peril! What if in the contortions of his mighty + muscles he pulled off the wheel, and the carriage toppled over, every cage + in it so twisted and wrenched that the bearings of its iron bars gave way! + The results were too terrible to ponder! This way and that, and every way + at once, he was writhing and pushing and prising and dragging. The + elephant turned the shafts slowly round to see what was the matter behind. + If the bull and the elephant yoked to the caravan came to loggerheads, + ruin was inevitable. The master thought whether he had not better loose + the elephant while the bull was yet entangled by the horns. With one blow + of his trunk he would break the ruffian's back and end the affray! It were + good even, if one knew how, to loose the wicked-looking horns: the brute's + struggles to free them were more dangerous far than could be the horns + themselves! + </p> + <p> + While he hesitated, Clare came running up, with Abdiel at his heels ready + as any hornet to fly at bull or elephant, let his master only speak the + word. But the moment Clare saw how the bull's horns were mixed up with the + spokes and fellies of the wheel, a glad suspicion flashed across him: that + was old Nimrod's way! could it be Nimrod himself? If it were, the trouble + was as good as over! The suspicion became a certainty the instant it woke. + But never could Clare altogether forgive himself for not at first sight + recognizing his old friend. I believe myself that hunger was to blame, and + not Clare. + </p> + <p> + The men stood about the animal, uncertain what to do, as he struggled with + his horns, and heaved and tore at the wheel to get them out of it, the + roars and howls and inarticulate curses going on all the time. The + elephant must have been tired, to stand so and do nothing! For a moment + Clare could not get near enough. He was afraid to call him while the bull + could not see him: Nimrod might but struggle the more, in order to get to + him! + </p> + <p> + Up rushed a fellow, white with rage and running, bang into the middle of + the spectators, and shook the knot of them asunder. It was one of the two + men from whom Nimrod had broken. He had a pitchfork in his hands which he + proceeded to level. Clare flung his weight against him, threw up his fork, + shoved him aside, and got close to the maddened animal. It was his past + come again! How often had he not interfered to protect Nimrod—and + his would-be masters also! With instinctive, unconscious authority, he + held up his hand to the little crowd. + </p> + <p> + “Leave him alone,” he cried. “I know him; I can manage him! Please do not + interfere. He is an old friend of mine.” + </p> + <p> + They saw that the bull was already still: he had recognized the boy's + voice! They kept his furious attendant back, and looked on in anxious hope + while Clare went up to the animal. + </p> + <p> + “Nimrod!” he whispered, laying a hand on one of the creature's horns, and + his cheek against his neck. + </p> + <p> + Nimrod stood like a bull in bronze. + </p> + <p> + “I'm going to get your horns out, Nimrod,” murmured Clare, and laid hold + of the other with a firm grasp. “You must let me do as I like, you know, + Nimrod!” + </p> + <p> + His voice evidently soothed the bull. + </p> + <p> + By the horns Clare turned his head now one way, now another, Nimrod not + once resisting push or pull. In a moment more he would have them clear, + for one of them was already free. Holding on to the latter, Clare turned + to the bystanders. + </p> + <p> + “You mustn't touch him,” he said, “or I won't answer for him. And you + mustn't let either of those men there”—for the second of Nimrod's + attendants had by this time come up—“interfere with him or me. They + let him go because they couldn't manage him. He can't bear them; and if he + were to break loose from them again, it might be quite another affair! + Then he might distrust me!” + </p> + <p> + The menagerie men turned, and looking saw that the man with the pitchfork + had revenge in his heart. They gave him to understand that he must mind + what he was about, or it would be the worse for him. The man scowled and + said nothing. + </p> + <p> + Clare gently released the other horn, but kept his hold of the first, + moving the creature's head by it, this way and that. A moment more and he + turned his face to the company, which had scattered a little. When the + inflamed eyes of Nimrod came into view, they scattered wider. Clare still + made the bull feel his hand on his horn, and kept speaking to him gently + and lovingly. Nimrod eyed his enemies, for such plainly he counted them, + as if he wished he were a lion that he might eat as well as kill them. At + the same time he seemed to regard them with triumph, saying in his big + heart, “Ha! ha! you did not know what a friend I had! Here he is, come in + the nick of time! I thought he would!” Clare proceeded to untie the ropes + from the ring in his nose. The man with the pitchfork interfered. + </p> + <p> + “That wonnot do!” he said, and laid his hand on Clare's arm. “Would you + send him ramping over the country, and never a hold to have on him?” + </p> + <p> + “It wasn't much good when you had a hold on him—was it now?” + returned the boy. “Where do you want to take him?” + </p> + <p> + “That's my business,” answered the man sulkily. + </p> + <p> + “I fancy you'll find it's mine!” returned Clare. “But there he is! Take + him.” + </p> + <p> + The man hesitated. + </p> + <p> + “Then leave me to manage him,” said Clare. + </p> + <p> + A murmur of approbation arose. The caravan people felt he knew what he was + saying. They believed he had power with the bull. + </p> + <p> + While yet he was untying the first of the ropes from the animal's bleeding + nostrils, Clare's fingers all at once refused further obedience, his eyes + grew dim, and he fell senseless at the bull's feet. + </p> + <p> + “Don't tell Nimrod!” he murmured as he fell. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that explains it!” cried the man with the pitchfork to his mate. “He + knows the cursed brute!” For Clare had hitherto spoken his name to the + bull as if it were a secret between them. + </p> + <p> + Neither had the sense to perceive that the explanation lay in the bull's + knowing Clare, not in Clare's knowing the bull. They made haste to lay + hold of the ropes. Nimrod stood motionless, looking down on his friend, + now and then snuffing at the pale face, which the thorough-bred mongrel, + Abdiel, kept licking continuously. Noses of bull and dog met without + offence on the loved human countenance. But had the men let the bull feel + the ropes, that moment he would have been raging like a demon. + </p> + <p> + The men of the caravan, admiring both Clare's influence over the animal + and his management of him, grateful also for what he had done for them, + hastened to his help. When they had got him to take a little brandy, he + sat up with a wan smile, but presently fell sideways on his elbow, and so + to the ground again. + </p> + <p> + “It's nothing,” he murmured; “it's only I'm rather hungry.” + </p> + <p> + “Poor boy!” said a woman, who had followed her brandy from the + house-caravan, afraid it might disappear in occult directions, “when did + you have your last feed?” + </p> + <p> + She stood looking down on the white face, almost between the fore-feet of + the bull. + </p> + <p> + “I had a piece of bread yesterday afternoon, ma'am,” faltered Clare, + trying to look up at her. + </p> + <p> + “Bless my soul!” she cried, “who's been a murderin' of you, child?” + </p> + <p> + She thought he was in company with the two men; and they had been + ill-treating him. + </p> + <p> + “I can't get any work, ma'am, so I don't want much to eat. Now I think of + it, I believe it was the gladness of seeing an old friend again, and not + the hunger, that made me feel so queer all at once.” + </p> + <p> + “Where's your friend?” she asked, looking round the assembly. + </p> + <p> + “There he is!” answered Clare, putting up his hand, and stroking the big + nose that was right over his face. + </p> + <p> + “Couldn't you rise now?” said the woman, after a moment's silent regard of + him. + </p> + <p> + “I'll try, ma'am; I don't feel quite sure.” + </p> + <p> + “I want you to come into the house, and have a good square meal.” + </p> + <p> + “If you would be so kind, ma'am, as let me have a bit of bread here! + Nimrod would not like me to leave him. He loves me, ma'am, and if I went + away, he might be troublesome. Those men will never do anything with him: + he doesn't like them! They've been rough to him, I don't doubt. Not that I + wonder at that, for he is a terrible beast to most people. They used to + say he never was good with anybody but me. I suppose he knew I cared for + him!” + </p> + <p> + His eyes closed again. The woman made haste to get him something. In a few + minutes she returned with a basin of broth. He took it eagerly, but with a + look of gratitude that went to her heart Before he tasted it, however, he + set it on the ground, broke in half the great piece of bread she had + brought with it, and gave the larger part to his dog. Then he ate the + other with his broth, and felt better than for many a day. Some of the men + said he could not be very hungry to give a cur like that so much of his + dinner; but the evil thought did not enter the mind of the woman. + </p> + <p> + “You'd better be taking your beast away,” said the woman, who by this time + understood the affair, to the two men. + </p> + <p> + They were silent, evidently disinclined for such another tussle. + </p> + <p> + “You'd better be going,” she said again. “If anything should happen with + that animal of yours, and one of ours was to get loose, the devil would be + to pay, and who'd do it?” + </p> + <p> + “They'd better wait for me, ma'am,” said Clare, rising. “I'm just ready!—They + won't tell me where they want to take him, but it's all one, so long as + I'm with him. He's my friend!—Ain't you, Nimrod? We'll go together—won't + we, Nimrod?” + </p> + <p> + While he spoke, he undid the ropes from the ring in the bull's nose. + Gathering them up, he handed them politely to one of the men, and the next + moment sprang upon the bull's back, just behind his shoulders, and leaning + forward, stroked his horns and neck. + </p> + <p> + “Give me up the dog, please,” he said. + </p> + <p> + The owner of the menagerie himself did as Clare requested. All stood and + stared, half expecting to see him flung from the creature's back, and + trampled under his hoofs. Even Nimrod, however, would not easily have + unseated Clare, who could ride anything he had ever tried, and had tried + everything strong enough to carry him, from a pig upward. But Nimrod was + far from wishing to unseat his friend, who with hands and legs began to + send him toward the road. + </p> + <p> + “Are you going that way?” he asked, pointing. The men answered him with a + nod, sulky still. + </p> + <p> + “Don't go with those men,” said the woman, coming up to the side of the + bull, and speaking in a low voice. “I don't like the look of them.” + </p> + <p> + “Nimrod will be on my side, ma'am,” answered Clare. “They would never have + got him home without me. They don't understand their fellow-creatures.” + </p> + <p> + “I'm afraid you understand your fellow-creatures, as you call them, better + than you do your own kind!” + </p> + <p> + “I think they are my own kind, ma'am. That is how they know me, and do + what I want them to do.” + </p> + <p> + “Stay with us,” said the woman coaxingly, still speaking low. “You'll have + plenty of your fellow-creatures about you then!” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you, ma'am, a thousand times!” answered Clare, his face beaming; + “but I couldn't leave poor Nimrod to do those men a mischief, and be + killed for it!” + </p> + <p> + “You'd have plenty to eat and drink, and som'at for your pocket!” + persisted the woman. + </p> + <p> + “I know I should have everything I wanted!” answered Clare, “and I'm very + thankful to you, ma'am. But you see there's always something, somehow, + that's got to be done before the other thing!” + </p> + <p> + Here the master came up. He had himself been thinking the boy would be a + great acquisition, and guessed what his wife was about; but he was afraid + she might promise too much for services that ought to be had cheap. Few + scruple to take advantage of the misfortune of another to get his service + cheap. It is the economy of hell. + </p> + <p> + “I sha'n't feel safe till that bull of yours is a mile off!” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Come along, Nimrod!” answered Clare, always ready with the responsive + deed. + </p> + <p> + Away went Nimrod, gentle as a lamb. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0043" id="link2HCH0043"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XLIII. Across country. + </h2> + <p> + The two men came after at their ease. No sooner was Nimrod on the road, + however, than he began to quicken his pace. He quickened it fast, and + within a minute or so was trotting swiftly along. The men ran panting and + shouting behind. The more they shouted, the faster Nimrod went. Ere long + he was out of their sight, though Clare could hear them cursing and + calling for a time. + </p> + <p> + He had endeavoured to stop Nimrod, but the bull seemed to have made up his + mind that he had obeyed enough for one day. He did not heed a word Clare + said to him, but kept on and on at a swinging trot. Clare would have + jumped off had he been sure the proceeding would stop him; but, now that + he would not obey him, he feared lest, in doing so, he might let him loose + on the country, when there was no saying what mischief he might not work. + On the other hand, he felt sure that he could restrain him from violence, + though he might not prevent his frolicking. He must therefore keep his + seat. + </p> + <p> + For a few miles Nimrod was content with the highway, now trotting + beautifully, now breaking into a canter. But all at once he turned at + right angles in the middle of the road, cleared the skirting fence like a + hunter, and took a bee-line across the fields. Compelled sometimes to + abandon it, he showed great judgment in choosing the place at which to get + out of the enclosure, or cross the natural obstruction. On and on he went, + over hedge after hedge, through field after field, until Clare began to + wonder where all the people in the world had got to. Then a strange + feeling gradually came over him. Surely at some time or other he had seen + the meadow he was crossing! Was he asleep, and dreaming the jolly ride he + was having on Nimrod's back? What a strong creature Nimrod was! Would he + never be tired? How oddly he felt! Were his senses going from him? It was + like the strangest mixture of a bad dream and a good! + </p> + <p> + There seemed at length no further room for doubt or mistake. Everything + was in its place! It was plain why Nimrod was so obstinate! The dear old + fellow was carrying him back to where they had been together so many happy + days! They were nigh Mr. Goodenough's farm, and making straight for it! + How strange it was! he had felt himself a measureless distance from it! + But in his wandering he had taken many turns he did not heed, and Nimrod + had come the shortest way. Delight filled his heart at the thought of + seeing once more the places where his father and mother seemed yet to + live. But instantly came the thought of Maly, and drowned the other + thought in bitterness. Then he felt how worthless place is, when those who + made it dear are gone. Father and mother are home—not the house we + were born in! + </p> + <p> + They were soon upon the farm where once he had abundance of labour, + abundance to eat, and abundance of lowly friendship. Nimrod was making for + his old stable. He was weary now, and breathing heavily, though not at all + spent. Was he dreaming of a golden age, in which Clare should be ever at + his beck and call? + </p> + <p> + Clare had little inclination to encounter any of the people of the farm. + He would indeed have been glad, from a little way off, to get a sight of + his once friend and master, the farmer himself; and very gladly would he + have gone into the stable in the hope of a greeting from old Jonathan; but + he would not willingly meet “the mistress!” Nimrod should take him to his + old stall; there he would tie him up, and flee from the place! The evening + was now come, and in the dusk he would escape unseen. + </p> + <p> + When they reached Nimrod's door, they found it closed; and Clare, stiff + enough by this time, slipped off to open it. Nimrod began to paw the + stones, and blow angry puffs from his wounded nose. When Clare got the + door open, he saw, to his confusion, a vague dark bulk, another bull, in + Nimrod's stall! The roar that simultaneously burst from each was + ferocious, and down went Nimrod's head to charge. It was a terrible moment + for Clare: the new bull was fast by the head, and, unable to turn it to + his adversary, would be gored to death almost in a moment! He could not + let Nimrod be guilty of such unfairness! And the mistress would think he + had brought him back for the very purpose! He all but jumped on the horns + of his friend, making him yield just ground enough for the shutting of the + door. He knew well, however, that not three such doors in one would keep + Nimrod from an enemy. With his back to it he stood facing him and talking + to him, and all the while they heard the bull inside struggling to get + free. He stood between two horned rages, only a chain and a plank betwixt + him and the one at his back, with which he had no influence. A coward + would have escaped, and left the two bullies to settle between them which + had the better right to the stall—not without blood, almost as + certainly not without loss of life, perhaps human as well as bovine. But + Clare was made of other stuff. + </p> + <p> + Before he could get Nimrod away, the bellowing brought out the farmer. All + his men had gone to the village; only himself and his wife were at home. + </p> + <p> + “What's got the brute?” he cried on the threshold, but instantly began to + run, for he saw through the gathering darkness a darker shape he knew, + roaring and pawing at the door of his old quarters, and a boy standing + between him and it, with marvellous courage in mortal danger. He + understood at once that Nimrod had broken loose and come back. But when he + came near enough to recognize Clare, astonishment, and something more + sacred than astonishment, held him dumb. Ever since the unjust blow that + sent the boy from him, his heart had been aware of a little hollow of + remorse in it. Now all his former relations with him while his adoptive + father yet lived, came back upon him. He remembered him dressed like the + little gentleman he always was—and there he stood, the same gentle + fearless creature, in absolute rags! If his wife saw him! The farmer had + no fear of Nimrod in his worst rages, but he feared his wife in her + gentlest moods. Happily for both, a critical moment in the cooking of the + supper had arrived. + </p> + <p> + “Clare!” he stammered. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir,” returned Clare, and laid hold of Nimrod's horn. The animal + yielded, and turned away with him. The farmer came nearer, and put his arm + round the boy's neck. The boy rubbed his cheek against the arm. + </p> + <p> + “I'm sorry I struck you, Clare!” faltered the big man. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, never mind, sir! That was long ago!” answered the boy. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me how you've been getting on.” + </p> + <p> + “Pretty well, sir! But I want to tell you first how it is I'm here with + Nimrod. Only it would be better to put him somewhere before I begin.” + </p> + <p> + “It would,” agreed the farmer; and between them, with the enticements of a + pail of water and some fresh-cut grass, they got him into a shed, where + they hoped he would forget the proximity of the usurper, and, with the + soothing help of his supper, go to sleep. + </p> + <p> + Then Clare told his story. Mr Goodenough afterward asseverated that, if he + had not known him for a boy that would not lie, he would not have believed + the half of it. + </p> + <p> + “Come, Abdiel!” said Clare, the moment he ended—and would have + started at once. + </p> + <p> + “Won't you have something after your long ride?” said the farmer. + </p> + <p> + Clare looked down at his clothes, and laughed. The farmer knew what he + meant, and did not ask him into the house. + </p> + <p> + “When had you anything to eat?” he inquired. + </p> + <p> + “I shall do very well till to-morrow,” answered Clare. + </p> + <p> + “Then if you will go, I'm glad of the opportunity of paying you the wages + I owed you,” said the farmer, putting his hand in his pocket. + </p> + <p> + “You gave me my food! That was all I was worth!” protested Clare. + </p> + <p> + “You were worth more than that! I knew the difference when I had another + boy in your place! I wish I had you again!—But it wouldn't do, you + know! it wouldn't do!” he added hastily. + </p> + <p> + With that he succeeded in pulling a sovereign from the depth of a + trowser-pocket, and held it out to Clare. It was neither large wages nor a + greatly generous gift, but it seemed to the boy wealth enormous. He could + not help holding out his hand, but he was ashamed to open it. What the + giver regarded as a debt, the receiver regarded as a gift. He stood with + his hand out but clenched. There was a combat inside him. + </p> + <p> + “It's too much!” he protested, looking at the sovereign almost with fear. + “I never had so much money in my life!” + </p> + <p> + “You earned it well,” said the farmer magnanimously. + </p> + <p> + The moral cramp forsook his hand. He took the money with a hearty “Thank + you, sir.” As he put it in his pocket, he felt its corners carefully, lest + there should be a hole. But his pockets had not had half the wear of the + clothes they inhabited. + </p> + <p> + “Where are you going?” asked the farmer. + </p> + <p> + Clare mentioned the small town in whose neighbourhood he had left the + caravans, and said he thought the people of the menagerie would like him + to help them with the beasts. The farmer shook his head. + </p> + <p> + “It's not a respectable occupation!” he remarked. + </p> + <p> + Clare did not understand him. + </p> + <p> + “Do they cheat?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “No; I don't suppose they cheat worse than anybody else. But it ain't + respectable.” + </p> + <p> + Had he known a little more, Clare might have asserted that the men about + the menagerie were at least as respectable as almost any farmer with a + horse to sell. But he knew next to nothing of wickedness, whence many a + man whose skull he had brains enough to fill three times, regarded him as + a simpleton. + </p> + <p> + Clare thought everything honest honourable. When people said otherwise, he + did not understand, and continued to act according as he understood. A + thousand dishonourable things are done, and largely approved, which Clare + would not have touched with one of his fingers: he could see nothing more + dishonourable in having to do with wild beasts than in having to do with + tame ones. If any boy wants to know the sort of thing I count in that + thousand, I answer him—“The next thing you are asked to do, or are + inclined to do—if you have any doubt about it, DON'T DO IT.” That is + the way to know the honourable thing from the dishonourable. + </p> + <p> + Clare made no attempt to argue the question with the farmer. He inquired + of him the nearest way to the town, and went—the quicker that he + heard the voice of Mrs. Goodenough, calling her husband to supper. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0044" id="link2HCH0044"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XLIV. A third mother. + </h2> + <p> + Who ever had a sovereign for the first time in his life, and did not feel + rich? Clare trudged along merrily, and Abdiel shared his joy. They had to + sleep out of doors nevertheless; for by this time Clare knew that a boy, + especially a boy in rags, must mind whom he asks to change a sovereign. In + the lee of a hay-mow, on a little loose hay, they slept, Abdiel in Clare's + bosom, and slept well. + </p> + <p> + There was not much temptation to lie long after waking, and the companions + were early on their way. It was yet morning when they came to the public + house where Clare had his first and last half-pint of beer. The landlady + stood at the newly opened door, with her fists in her sides, looking out + on the fresh world, lost in some such thought as was possible to her. + Clare pulled off his cap, and bade her good morning as he passed. Perhaps + she knew she did not deserve politeness; anyhow she took Clare's for + impudence, and came swooping upon him. He stopped and waited her approach, + perplexed as to the cause of it; and was so unprepared for the box on the + ear she dealt him, that it almost threw him down. Her ankle was instantly + in Abdiel's sharp teeth. She gave a frightful screech, and Clare, coming + to himself, though still stupid from her blow and his own surprise, called + off the dog. The woman limped raging to the house, and Clare thought it + prudent to go his way. He talked severely to Abdiel as they went; but + though the dog could understand much, I doubt if he understood that + lecture. For Abdiel was one of the few, even among dogs, with whom the + defence of master or friend is an inborn, instinctive duty; and strong + temptation even has but a poor chance against the sense of duty in a dog. + </p> + <p> + It was night when they entered the town. They were already a weary pair + when the far sounds of the brass band of the menagerie, mostly made up of + attendants on the animals, first entered their ears. The marketing was + over; the band was issuing its last invitation to the merry-makers to walk + up and see strange sights; its notes were just dying to their close, when + the wayfarers arrived at the foot of the steps leading to the platform + where the musicians stood. Clare ascended, and Abdiel crept after him. + </p> + <p> + At a table in a small curtained recess on the platform, sat the mistress + to receive the money of those that entered. Clare laid his sovereign + before her. She took it up without looking at him, but at it she looked + doubtfully. She threw it on her table. It would not ring. She bit it with + her white teeth, and looked at it again; then at length gave a glance at + the person who offered it. Her dull lamp flickered in the puffs of the + night-wind, and she did not recognize Clare. She saw but a white-faced, + ragged boy, and threw him back his sovereign. + </p> + <p> + “Won't pass,” she said with decision, not unmingled with contempt. She sat + at the receipt of money, where too many men and women cease to be ladies + and gentlemen. + </p> + <p> + Clare did not at first understand. He stood motionless and, for the second + time that day, bewildered. How could money be no money? + </p> + <p> + “'Ain't you got sixpence?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “No, ma'am,” answered Clare. “I haven't had sixpence for many a day.” + </p> + <p> + The moment he spoke, the woman looked him sharply in the face, and knew + him. + </p> + <p> + “Drat my stupid eyes!” she said fervently. “That I shouldn't ha' known + you! Walk in, walk in. Go where you please, and do as you please. You're + right welcome.—Where did you get that sov.?” + </p> + <p> + “From Farmer Goodenough.” + </p> + <p> + “Good enough, I hope, not to take advantage of an innocent prince! Was it + for taking home the bull?” + </p> + <p> + “No, ma'am. I didn't take the bull home. The bull took me to the old home + where we used to be together. He didn't want a new one!” + </p> + <p> + “Well, never mind now. Give me the sovereign. I'll talk to you by and by. + Go in, or the show 'ill be over. Look after your dog, though. We don't + like dogs. He mustn't go in.” + </p> + <p> + “I'll send him right outside, if you wish it, ma'am.” + </p> + <p> + “I do.—But will he stay out?” + </p> + <p> + “He will, ma'am.” + </p> + <p> + Clare took up Abdiel, and setting him at the top of the steps, told him to + go down and wait. Abdiel went hopping down, like a dirty little white + cataract out on its own hook, turned in under the steps, and deposited + himself there until his master should call him. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0045" id="link2HCH0045"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XLV. The menagerie. + </h2> + <p> + A strange smell was in Clare's nostrils, and as he went down the steps + inside, it grew stronger. He did not dislike it; but it set him thinking + why it should so differ from that of domestic animals. He was presently in + the midst of a vision attractive to all boys, but which few had ever + looked upon with such intelligent wonder as he; for Clare had read and + re-read every book about animals upon which he could lay his hands. He had + a great power too of remembering what he read; for he never let a + description glide away over the outside of his eyes, but always put it + inside his thinking place. What with pictures and descriptions, he seemed + to know, as he looked around him, every animal on which his eyes fell. + </p> + <p> + The area was by no means crowded. There had been many visitors during the + day, but now it was late. He could see into all the cages that formed the + sides of the enclosure. Many of the creatures seemed restless, few sleepy: + night was the waking time for most of them. How should a great roaming, + hunting cat go to sleep in a little cube of darkness! “Oh,” thought Clare, + “how gladly would I help them to bear it! I could bear it myself with + somebody near to be kind to me!” + </p> + <p> + He had begun to feel that the quiet happiness to which he was once so + accustomed that he did not think much about it, was his because it was <i>given</i> + him. He had begun to see that it did not come to him of itself, but from + the love of his father and mother. He had yet to learn that it was given + to them to give to him by the Father of fathers and mothers. But he was + beginning to prize every least kindness shown him. This re-acted on his + desire to make the happiness greater and the pain less everywhere about + him. He had little chance of doing much for people, he thought; but he + knew how to do things for some animals, and perhaps it was only necessary + to know others to be able to do something for them too! + </p> + <p> + Thoughts like these passing through his mind, and his gaze wandering + hither and thither over the shifting shapes, his eyes rested on the tenant + of one of the cages, and his heart immediately grew very sore, for he + seemed unable to lift his head. He was a big animal, alone in his prison, + of a blackish colour, and awkward appearance. He went nearer, and found he + had a big ring in his nose like Nimrod. But to the ring was fastened a + strong chain, and the chain was bolted down to the floor of the cage, + which was of iron covered with boards, in their turn covered with a thick + sheet of lead. The chain was so short that it held the poor creature's + head within about a foot of the floor. He could not lift it higher, or + move it farther on either side; but he kept moving it constantly. It was a + pitiful sight, and Clare went nearer still, drawn far more by compassion, + and indeed sympathy, than by curiosity. He was a terrible brute, a big + grizzly bear, ugly to repulsiveness. The snarling scorn, the sneering, + lip-writhing hate of the demoniacal grin with which he received the boy, + was hideous; the rattling, pebble-jarring growl that came from his + devilish throat was loathing embodied. What if spirits worse than their + own get into some of the creatures by virtue of the likeness between them! + One day will be written, perhaps, a history of animals very different from + any attempted by mere master in zoology. Clare spoke to the beast again + and again, but was unvaryingly answered by the same odious snarl, curling + his lip under his nose-ring. It seemed to express the imagined delight of + tearing him limb from limb. + </p> + <p> + “Poor fellow!” said Clare, “how can he be good-tempered with that + torturing ring and chain! His unalterable position must make his every + bone ache!” + </p> + <p> + But had his nose been set free, such a raging-bear-struggle to get at the + nearest of his fellow-prisoners would have ensued, as must soon have torn + to shreds the partition between them. For he was a beast-bedlamite, an + animal volcano, a furnace of death, an incarnate paroxysm of wrath. The + inspiration of the creature, so far as one could see, was pure hate. + </p> + <p> + The boy turned aside with quivering heart—sore for the grizzly's + nose, and sorer still for the grizzly himself that he was so unfriendly. + </p> + <p> + Right opposite, a creature of a far differing disposition seemed casting + defiance to all the ills of life. As he turned with a sad despair from the + grizzly, Clare caught sight of his pranks, and hastened across the area. + The creature kept bounding from side to side of his cage, agile and + frolicsome as a kitten. But the light was poor, and Clare could not even + conjecture to which of the cat-kinds he belonged. When he came near his + cage, he saw that he was yellowish like a lion, and thought perhaps he + might be a young lion. He had no mane. Clare judged him four feet in + length without the tail—or perhaps four and a half. A little way off + was the real lion—a young one, it is true, but quite grown, with a + thin ruffy mane, and lordly carriage and gaze. It was he whose roar had + challenged Nimrod, giving the topmost flutter to the flame of his wrath. + But Clare was so taken with the frolicsome creature before him, that he + gave but a glance at the grand one as he walked up and down his prison, + and turned again to the merry one disporting himself alone, who seemed to + find the pleasure of life in great games with companions no one saw but + himself. For minutes he stood regarding the gladness of God's creature. A + wild thing of the woods and plains, he made the most of the bars and floor + and roof of his cage. No one careless of liberty could make such bounds as + those; yet he was joyous in closest imprisonment! His liberty gone, his + freedom contracted to a few cubic feet, his space diminished almost to the + mould of his body, the great wild philosopher created his own liberty, + made it out of his own love of it. Like a live, erratic shuttle he went to + and fro, unweaving, unravelling, unwinding, drawing out the knot of + confinement, flinging out, radiating and spreading and breathing out space + in all directions, by multitudinous motion of disentanglement! Space gone + from him, space in the abstract should replace it! He would not be slave + to condition! Space unconditioned should be his! For him liberty should + not lie in space, but in his own soul. Room should be but the poor + out-aide symbol of his inward freedom! He would spin out, he would weave, + he would unroll essential liberty into spiritual space! His mind to him a + kingdom was. Not a grumble, not a snarl! He left discontent to men, to + build their own prisons withal. A proud man with everything he longs for, + if such a man there be, is but a slave; this creature of the glad creator + was and would be free, because he was a free soul. Prison bars could not + touch that by whose virtue he was and would be free! + </p> + <p> + The germ of this thinking was in the mind of Clare while he stood and + gazed; and as he told me the story, its ripeness came thus, or nearly + thus, from his lips; for he had thought much in lonely places. + </p> + <p> + As he gazed and sympathized, there awoke within him that strange + consciousness which my reader must, at one time or another, have known—of + being on the point of remembering something. It was not a memory that + came, but a memory of a memory—the shadow of a memory gone, but + trying to come out from behind a veil—a sense of having once known + something. It gave another aspect to the blessed creature before him. The + creature and himself seemed for a moment to belong together to another + time. Could he have seen such an animal before? He did not think so! He + could never have visited a menagerie and forgotten it! If he had known + such a creature, his after-reading would have recalled it, he would know + it now! He could tell the lion and the tiger and the leopard, although he + seemed to know he had never seen one of them; he could not tell this + animal, and yet—and yet!—what was it? The feeling itself + lasted scarce an instant, and went no farther. No memory came to him. The + foiled expectation was all he had. The very reasoning about it helped to + obliterate the shape of the feeling itself. He could not even recall how + the thing had felt; he could only remember it had been there. It was now + but the shadow of the shadow of a dream—a yet vaguer memory than + that thinnest of presences which had at the first tantalized him. We + remember what we cannot recall. + </p> + <p> + Perhaps the rousing of the odd, fantastic feeling had been favoured by the + slumber beginning to encroach on tody and brain. While he stood looking at + the one creature, all the wonderful creatures began to get mixed up + together, and he thought it better to go and search for some field of + sleep, where he might mow a little for his use. He said good-night to the + great, gentle, jubilant cat, turned from him unwillingly, and went up the + steps. Almost every spectator was gone. At the top of them he turned for a + last look, but could distinguish nothing except the dim form of the young + lion, as he thought him, still gamboling in the presence of his maker. + </p> + <p> + He thought to see the mistress of the menagerie, but she was no longer in + her curtained box. He went out on the deserted platform, and down the + steps. Abdiel was already at the foot when he reached it, wagging his + weary little tail. + </p> + <p> + They set out to look for a shelter. Their search, however, was so much in + vain, that at last they returned and lay down under one of the wagons, on + the hard ground of the public square. Sleeping so often out of doors, he + had never yet taken cold. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0046" id="link2HCH0046"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XLVI. The angel of the wild beasts. + </h2> + <p> + When Clare looked up he saw nothing between him and the sky. They had + dragged the caravan from above him, and he had not moved. Abdiel indeed + waked at the first pull, but had lain as still as a mouse—ready to + rouse his master, but not an instant before it should be necessary. + </p> + <p> + Clare saw the sky, but he saw something else over him, better than the sky—the + face of Mrs. Halliwell, the mistress of the menagerie. In it, as she stood + looking down on him, was compassion, mingled with self-reproach. + </p> + <p> + Clare jumped up, saying, “Good morning, ma'am!” He was yet but half awake, + and staggered with sleep. + </p> + <p> + “My poor boy!” answered the woman, “I sent you to sleep on the cold earth, + with a sovereign of your own in my pocket! I made sure you would come and + ask me for it! You're too innocent to go about the world without a + mother!” + </p> + <p> + She turned her face away. + </p> + <p> + “But, ma'am, you know I couldn't have offered it to anybody,” said Clare. + “It wasn't good!—Besides, before I knew that,” he went on, finding + she did not reply, “there was nobody but you I dared offer it to: they + would have said I stole it—because I'm so shabby!” he added, looking + down at his rags. “But it ain't in the clothes, ma'am—is it?” + </p> + <p> + Getting the better of her feelings for a moment, she turned her face and + said,— + </p> + <p> + “It was all my fault! The sov. is a good one. It's only cracked! I ought + to have known, and changed it for you. Then all would have been well!” + </p> + <p> + “I don't think it would have made any difference, ma'am. We would rather + sleep on the ground than in a bed that mightn't be clean—wouldn't + we, Abby?” The dog gave a short little bark, as he always did when his + master addressed him by his name.—“But I'm so glad!” Clare went on. + “I was sure Mr. Goodenough thought the sovereign all right when he gave it + me!—Were you ever disappointed in a sovereign, ma'am?” + </p> + <p> + “I been oftener disappointed in them as owed 'em!” she answered. “But to + think o' me snug in bed, an' you sleepin' out i' the dark night! I can't + abide the thought on it!” + </p> + <p> + “Don't let it trouble you, ma'am; we're used to it. Ain't we, Abby?” + </p> + <p> + “Then you oughtn't to be! and, please God, you shall be no more! But come + along and have your breakfast We don't start till the last.” + </p> + <p> + “Please, ma'am, may Abdiel come too?” + </p> + <p> + “In course! 'Love me, love my dog!' Ain't that right?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, ma'am; but some people like dogs worse than boys.” + </p> + <p> + “A good deal depends on the dog. When folk brings up their dogs as bad as + they do their childern, I want neither about me. But your dog's a + well-behaved dog. Still, he must learn not to come in sight o' the + animals.” + </p> + <p> + “He will learn, ma'am!—Abdiel, lie down, and don't come till I call + you.” + </p> + <p> + At the word, the dog dropped, and lay. + </p> + <p> + The house-caravan stood a little way off, drawn aside when they began to + break up. They ascended its steps behind, and entered an enchanting little + room. It had muslin curtains to the windows, and a small stove in which + you could see the bright red coals. On the stove stood a coffee-pot and a + covered dish. How nice and warm the place felt, after the nearly + shelterless night! + </p> + <p> + The breakfast-things were still on the table. Mr. Halliwell had had his + breakfast, but Mrs. Halliwell would not eat until she had found the boy. + She had been unhappy about him all the night. Her husband had assured her + the sovereign was a good one, and the boy had told her he had no money but + the sovereign! She little knew how seldom he fared better than that same + night! When he got among hay or straw, that was luxury. + </p> + <p> + They sat down to breakfast, and the good woman was very soon confirmed in + the notion that the boy was a gentleman. + </p> + <p> + “Call your dog now,” she said, “an' let's see if he'll come!” + </p> + <p> + “May I whistle, ma'am?” + </p> + <p> + “Why not!—But will he hear you?” + </p> + <p> + “He has very sharp ears, ma'am.” + </p> + <p> + Clare gave a low, peculiar whistle. In a second or two, they heard an + anxious little whine at the door. Clare made haste to open it. There stood + Abdiel, with the words in his eyes, as plain almost as if he spoke them—“Did + you call, sir?” The woman caught him and held him to her bosom. + </p> + <p> + “You blessed little thing!” she said. + </p> + <p> + And surely if there be a blessing to be had, it is for them that obey. + </p> + <p> + Clare heard and felt the horses put-to, but the hostess of this Scythian + house did not rise, and he too went on with his breakfast. When they were + in motion, it was not so easy to eat nicely, but he managed very well. By + the time he had done, they had left the town behind them. He wanted to + help Mrs. Halliwell with the breakfast-things, but whether she feared he + would break some of them, or did not think it masculine work, she would + not allow him. + </p> + <p> + Nothing had been said about his going with them; she had taken that for + granted. Clare began to think perhaps he ought to take his leave: there + was nothing for him to do! He and Abdiel ought at least to get out and + walk, instead of burdening the poor horses with their weight, when they + were so well rested, and had had such a good breakfast! But when he said + so to Mrs. Halliwell, she told him she must have a little talk with him + first, and formally proposed that he should enter their service, and do + whatever he was fit for in the menagerie. + </p> + <p> + “You're not frightened of the beasts, are you?” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Oh no, ma'am; I love them!” answered Clare. “But are you sure Mr. + Halliwell thinks I could be of use?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't you think yourself you could?” asked Mrs. Halliwell. + </p> + <p> + “I know I could, ma'am; but I should not like him to take me just because + he was sorry for me!” + </p> + <p> + “You innocent! People are in no such hurry to help their neighbours. My + husband's as good a man as any going; but it don't mean he would take a + boy because nobody else would have him. A fool of a woman might—I + won't say; but not a man I ever knew. No, no! He saw the way you managed + that bull!—a far more unreasonable creature than any we have to do + with!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah! you don't know Nimrod, ma'am!” + </p> + <p> + “I don't, an' I don't want to!—Such wild animals ought to be put in + caravans!” she added, with a laugh. + </p> + <p> + “Well, ma'am,” said Clare, “if you and Mr. Halliwell are of one mind, + nothing would please me so much as to serve you and the beasts. But I + should like to be sure about it, for where husband and wife are not of one + mind—well, it is uncomfortable!” + </p> + <p> + Thereupon he told her how he had stood with the farmer and his wife; and + from that she led him on through his whole story—not unaccompanied + with tears on the part of his deliverer, for she was a tender-souled as + well as generous and friendly woman. In her heart she rejoiced to think + that the boy's sufferings would now be at an end; and thenceforward she + was, as he always called her, his third mother. + </p> + <p> + “My poor, ill-used child!” she said. “But I'll be a mother to you—if + you'll have me!” + </p> + <p> + “You wouldn't mind if I thought rather often of my two other mothers, + ma'am—would you?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “God forbid, boy!” she answered. “If I were your real mother, would I have + my own flesh and blood ungrateful? Should I be proud of him for loving + nobody but me? That's like the worst of the beasts: they love none but + their little ones—and that only till they're tired of the trouble of + them!” + </p> + <p> + “Thank you! Then I will be your son Clare, please, ma'am.” + </p> + <p> + The next time they stopped, she made her husband come into her caravan, + and then and there she would and did have everything arranged. When both + her husband and the boy would have left his wages undetermined, she would + not hear of it, but insisted that so much a week should be fixed at once + to begin with. She had no doubt, she said, that her husband would soon be + ready enough to raise his wages; but he must have his food and five + shillings a week now, and Mr. Halliwell must advance money to get him + decent clothes: he might keep the wages till the clothes were paid for! + </p> + <p> + Everything she wished was agreed to by her husband, and at the next town, + Clare's new mother saw him dressed to her satisfaction, and to his own. + She would have his holiday clothes better than his present part in life + required, and she would not let his sovereign go toward paying for them: + that she would keep ready in case he might want it! Her eyes followed him + about with anxious pride—as if she had been his mother in fact as + she was in truth. + </p> + <p> + He had at once plenty to do. The favour of his mother saved him from no + kind of work, neither had he any desire it should. Every morning he took + his share in cleaning out the cages, and in setting water for the beasts, + and food for the birds and such other creatures as took it when they + pleased. At the proper intervals he fed as many as he might of those + animals that had stated times for their meals; and found the advantage of + this in its facilitating his friendly approaches to them. He helped with + the horses also—with whose harness and ways he was already familiar. + In a very short time he was known as a friend by every civilized animal in + and about the caravans. + </p> + <p> + He did all that was required of him, and more. Not everyone of course had + a right to give him orders, but Clare was not particular as to who wanted + him, or for what. He was far too glad to have work to look at the gift + askance. He did not make trouble of what ought to be none, by saying, with + the spirit of a slave, “It's not my place.” He did many things which he + might have disputed, for he never thought of disputing them. Thus, both + for himself and for others, he saved a great deal of time, and avoided + much annoyance and much quarrelling. Thus also he gained many friends. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0047" id="link2HCH0047"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XLVII. Glum Gunn. + </h2> + <p> + He had but one enemy, and he did not make him such: he was one by nature. + For he was so different from Clare that he disliked him the moment he saw + him, and it took but a day to ripen his dislike into hatred. Like Mr. + Maidstone, he found the innocent fearlessness of Clare's expression + repulsive. His fingers twitched, he said, to have a twist at the + sheep-nose of him. Unhappily for Clare, he was of consequence in the + menagerie, having money in the concern. He was half-brother to the + proprietor, but so unlike him that he might not have had a drop of blood + from the same source. An ill-tempered, imperious man, he would hurt + himself to have his way, for he was the merest slave to what he fancied. + When a man <i>will</i> have a thing, right or wrong, that man is a slave + to that thing—the meanest of slaves, a willing one. He was the + terror of the men beneath him, heeding no man but his brother—and + him only because he knew “he would stand no nonsense.” To his + sister-in-law he was civil: she was his brother's wife, and his brother + was proud of her! Also he knew that she was perfect in her part of the + business. So it was reason to stand as well as he might with her! + </p> + <p> + Clare had no suspicion that he more than disliked him. It took him days + indeed to discover even that he did not love him—notwithstanding the + bilious eye which, when its owner was idle, kept constantly following him. + And idle he often was, not from laziness, but from the love of ordering + about, and looking superior. + </p> + <p> + It was natural that such a man should also be cruel. There are who find + their existence pleasant in proportion as they make that of others + miserable. He had no liking for any of the animals, regarding them only as + property with never a right;—as if God would make anything live + without thereby giving it rights! To Glum Gunn, as he was commonly called + behind his back, the animals were worth so much money to sell, and so much + to show. Yet he prided himself that he had a great influence as well as + power over them, an occult superiority that made him their lord. It was + merely a phase of the vulgarest self-conceit. He posed to himself as a + lion-tamer! He had never tamed a lion, or any creature else, in his life; + but when he had a wild thing safe within iron bars, then he “let him know + who was his master!” By the terror of his whip, and means far worse, he + compelled obedience. The grizzly alone, of the larger animals, he never + interfered with. + </p> + <p> + From the first he received Clare's “<i>Good-morning, sir</i>,” with a + silent stare; and the boy at last, thinking he did not like to be so + greeted, gave up the salutation. This roused Gunn's anger and increased + his hate. But indeed any boy petted by his sister-in-law, would have been + odious to him; and any boy whatever would have found him a hard master. + Clare was for a while protected by the man's unreadiness to have words + with his brother, who always took his wife's part; but the tyrant soon + learned that he might venture far. + </p> + <p> + For he saw, by the boy's ready smile, that he never resented anything, + which the brute, as most boys would have done, attributed to cowardice; + and he learned that he never carried tales to his sister, of which, + instead of admiring him for his reticence, he took advantage, and set + about making life bitter to him. + </p> + <p> + It was some time before he began to succeed, for Clare was hard to annoy. + Patient, and right ready to be pleased, he could hardly imagine offence + intended; the thought was all but unthinkable to Clare's nature; so he let + evil pass and be forgotten as if it had never been. Once, as he ran along + with a heavy pail of water, Gunn shot out his foot and threw him down: he + rose with a cut in his forehead, and a smile on his lips. He carried the + mark of the pail as long as he carried his body, but it was long before he + believed he had been tripped up. Had it been proved to him at the time, he + would have taken it as a joke, intending no hurt. He did not see the lurid + smile on the man's face as he turned away, a smile of devilish delight at + the discomfiture of a hated fellow-creature. Gunn put him to the dirtiest + work—only to find that it did not trouble him: the boy was a rare + gentleman—unwilling another should have more that he might have less + of the disagreeable. I have two or three times heard him say that no man + had the right to require of another the thing he would think degrading to + himself. He said he learned this from the New Testament. “But,” he said, + “nothing God has made necessary, can possibly be degrading. It may not be + the thing for this or that man, at this or that time, to do, but it cannot + in itself be degrading.” + </p> + <p> + The boy had to take his turn with several in acting showman to the gazing + crowd, and by and by the part fell to him oftenest. Each had his own way + of filling the office. One would repeat his information like a lesson in + which he was not interested, and expected no one else to be interested. + Another made himself the clown of the exhibition, and joked as much and as + well as he could. Gunn delighted in telling as many lies as he dared: he + must not be suspected of making fools of his audience! Clare, who from + books knew far more than any of the others concerning the creatures in + their wild state, and who, by watching them because he loved them, had + already noted things none of the others had observed, and was fast + learning more, talked to the spectators out of his own sincere and warm + interest, giving them from his treasure things new and old—things he + had read, and things he had for himself discovered. Group after group of + simple country people would listen intently as he led them round, eager + after every word; and as any peg will do to hang hate upon, even this + success was noted with evil eye by Glum Gunn. Almost anything served to + increase his malignity. Whether or not it grew the faster that he had as + yet found no wider outlet for it, I cannot tell. + </p> + <p> + At last, however, the tyrant learned how to inflict the keenest pain on + the tender-hearted boy, counting him the greater idiot that he could so + “be got at,” as he phrased it, and promising himself much enjoyment from + the discovery. But he did not know—how should he know—what + love may compel! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0048" id="link2HCH0048"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XLVIII. The puma. + </h2> + <p> + I need hardly say that by this time all the beasts with any friendliness + in them had for Clare a little more than their usual amount of that + feeling. But there was one between whom and him—I prefer <i>who</i> + to <i>which</i> for certain animals—a real friendship had begun at + once, and had grown and ripened rapidly till it was strong on both sides. + Clare's new friend—and companion as much as circumstance permitted—was + the same whose lonely gambols had so much attracted him the night he first + entered the menagerie. The animal, whom Clare had taken for a young lion—without + being so far wrong, for he has often been called the American lion—was + the puma, or couguar, peculiar to America, with a relation to the jaguar, + also American, a little similar to that of the lion to the tiger. But + while the jaguar is as wicked a beast as the tiger, the puma possesses, in + relation to man, far more than the fabulous generosity of the lion. Like + every good creature he has been misunderstood and slandered, but a few + have known him, He has doubtless degenerated in districts, for as the wild + animal must gradually disappear before the human, he cannot help becoming + in the process less friendly to humanity; but an essential and distinctive + characteristic of the puma is his love for the human being—a love + persistent, devoted, and long-suffering. + </p> + <p> + Between such an animal and Clare, it is not surprising that friendship + should at once have blossomed. He stroked the paw of the Indian lion the + first morning, but the day was not over when he was stroking the cheek of + the puma; while all he could do with the grizzly at the end of the month + was to feed him a little on the sly, and get for thanks a growl of the + worse hate. There are men that would soonest tear their benefactors, + loathing them the more that they cannot get at them. I suspect that in + some mysterious way Glum Gunn and the bear were own brothers. With the + elephant Clare did what he pleased—never pleasing anything that was + not pleasing to the elephant. + </p> + <p> + They came to a town where they exhibited every day for a week, and there + it was that the friendship of Clare and the puma reached its perfection. + One night the boy could not sleep, and drawn by his love, went down among + the cages to see how his fellow-creatures were getting through the time of + darkness. There was just light enough from a small moon to show the dim + outlines of the cages, and the motion without the form of any moving + animal. The puma, in his solitary yet joyous gymnastics, was celebrating + the rites of freedom according to his custom. When Clare entered, he made + a peculiar purring noise, and ceased his amusement—a game at ball, + with himself for the ball. Clare went to him, and began as usual to stroke + him on the face and nose; whereupon the puma began to lick his hand with + his dry rough tongue. Clare wondered how it could be nice to have such a + dry thing always in his mouth, but did not pity him for what God had given + him. He had his arm through between the bars of the cage, and his face + pressed close against them, when suddenly the face of the animal was + rubbing itself against what it could reach of his. The end was, that Clare + drew aside the bolt of the cage-door, and got in beside the puma. The + creature's gladness was even greater than if he had found a friend of his + own kind. Noses and cheeks and heads were rubbed together; tongue licked, + and hand stroked and scratched. Then they began to frolic, and played a + long time, the puma jumping over Clare, and Clare, afraid to jump lest he + should make a noise, tumbling over the puma. The boy at length went fast + asleep; and in the morning found the creature lying with his head across + his body, wide awake but motionless, as if guarding him from disturbance. + Nobody was stirring; and Clare, who would not have their friendship + exposed to every comment, crept quietly from the cage, and went to his own + bed. + </p> + <p> + The next night, as soon as the place was quiet, Clare went down, and had + another game with the puma. Before their sport was over, he had begun to + teach him some of the tricks he had taught Abdiel; but he could not do + much for fear of making a noise and alarming some keeper. + </p> + <p> + The same thing took place, as often as it was possible, for some weeks, + and Clare came to have as much confidence, in so far at least as good + intention was concerned, in the puma as in Abdiel. If only he could have + him out of the cage, that the dear beast might have a little taste of old + liberty! But not being certain how the puma would behave to others, or if + he could then control him, he felt he had no right to release him. + </p> + <p> + Now and then he would fall asleep in the cage, whereupon the puma would + always lie down close beside him. Whether the puma slept, I do not know. + </p> + <p> + On one such occasion, Clare started to his feet half-awake, roused by a + terrific roar. Right up on end stood the couguar, flattening his front + against the bars of the cage, which he clawed furiously, snarling and + spitting and yelling like the huge cat he was, every individual hair on + end, and his eyes like green lightning. Clatter, clatter, went his great + feet on the iron, as he tore now at this bar now at that, to get at + something out in the dim open space. It was too dark for Clare to see what + it was that thus infuriated him, but his ear discovered what his eye could + not. For now and then, woven into the mad noise of the wild creature, in + which others about him were beginning to join, he heard the modest whimper + of a very tame one—Abdiel, against whose small person, gladly as he + would have been “naught a while,” this huge indignation was levelled. Must + there not be a deeper ground for the enmity of dogs and cats than evil + human incitement? Their antipathy will have to be explained in that + history of animals which I have said must one day be written. + </p> + <p> + Clare had taken much pains to make Abdiel understand that he was not to + intrude where his presence was not desired—that the show was not for + him, and thought the dog had learned perfectly that never on any pretence, + or for any reason, was he to go down those steps, however often he saw his + master go down. This prohibition was a great trial to Abdiel's loving + heart, but it had not until this night been a trial too great for his + loving will. + </p> + <p> + When Clare left him, he thought he had taken his usual pains in shutting + him into a small cage he had made to use on such occasions, lest he might + be tempted to think, when he saw nobody about, that the law no longer + applied. But he had not been careful enough; and Abdiel, sniffing about + and finding his door unfastened, had interpreted the fact as a sign that + he might follow his master. Hence all the coil. For pumas—whereby + also must hang an explanation in that book of zoology, have an intense + hatred of dogs. Tame from cubhood, they never get over their antipathy to + them. With pumas it is “Love you, hate your dog.” In the present case + there could be no individual jealousy, of which passion beasts and birds + are very capable, for Pummy had never seen Abby before. There may be in + the puma an inborn jealousy of dogs, as a race more favoured than pumas by + the man whom yet they love perhaps more passionately. + </p> + <p> + As soon as Clare saw what the matter was, he slipped out of the cage, and + catching up the obnoxious offender—where he stood wagging all over + as if his entire body were but a self-informed tail—sped with him to + his room, and gave him a serious talking-to. + </p> + <p> + The puma was quiet the moment the dog was out of his sight. Doubtless he + regarded Clare as his champion in distress, and blessed him for the + removal of that which his soul hated. But, alas, mischief was already + afoot! Gunn, waked by the roaring, came flying with his whip, and the + remnants of poor Pummy's excitement were enough to betray him to the eyes + of the tamer of caged animals. Clare would have recognized by the roar + itself the individual in trouble; but Glum Gunn had little knowledge even + of the race. He counted the couguar a coward, because he showed no + resentment. A man may strike him or wound him, and he will make no + retaliation; he will even let a man go on to kill him, and make no defence + beyond moans and tears. But Gunn knew nothing of these facts; he only knew + that this puma would not touch <i>him</i>. He was not aware that if he + turned the two into the arena of the show, the puma would kill the + grizzly; or that in their own country, the puma persecutes the jaguar as + if he hated him for not being like himself, the friend of man: the Gauchos + of the Pampas call him “The Christians' Friend.” Gunn did not even know + that the horse is the puma's favourite food: he will leap on the back of a + horse at full speed, with his paws break his neck as he runs, and come + down with him in a rolling heap. Neither did he know that, while + submissive to man—as if the maker of both had said to him, “Slay my + other creatures, but do my anointed no harm,”—he could yet upon + occasion be provoked to punish though not to kill him. + </p> + <p> + Glum Gunn rushed across the area, jumped into the cage of the puma, and + began belabouring him with his whip. The beast whimpered and wept, and the + brute belaboured him. Clare heard the changed cry of his friend, and came + swooping like the guardian angel he was. When he saw the patient creature + on his haunches like a dog, accepting Gunn's brutality without an attempt + to escape it—except, indeed, by dodging any blows at his head so + cleverly that the ruffian could not once hit it—he bounded to the + cage, wild with anger and pity. But Gunn stood with his back against the + door of it, and he was reduced to entreaty. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, sir! sir!” he cried, in a voice full of tears; “it was all my fault! + Abby came to look for me, and I didn't know Pummy disliked dogs!” + </p> + <p> + “Do you tell me, you rascal, that you were down among the hanimals when I + supposed you in your bed?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, sir, I was. I didn't know there was any harm. I wasn't doing + anything wrong.” + </p> + <p> + “Hold your jaw! What <i>was</i> you doing?” + </p> + <p> + “I was only in the cage with the puma.” + </p> + <p> + “You was! You have the impudence to tell me that to my face! I'll teach + you, you cotton-face! you milk-pudding! to go corrupting the hanimals and + making them not worth their salt!” + </p> + <p> + He swung himself out of the cage-door in a fury, but Clare, with his + friend in danger, would not run. The wretch seized him by the collar, and + began to lash him as he had been lashing the puma. Happily he was too + close to him to give him such stinging blows. + </p> + <p> + With the first hiss of the thong, came a tearing screech from the puma, as + he flung himself in fury upon the door of his cage. Gunn in his wrath with + Clare had forgotten to bolt it. Dragging with his claws, he found it + unfastened, pulled it open, and like a huge shell from a mortar, shot + himself at Gunn. Down he went. For one moment the puma stood over him, + swinging his tail in great sweeps, and looking at him, doubtless with + indignation. Then before Clare could lay hold of him, for Clare too had + fallen by the onset, Pummy turned a scornful back upon his enemy, and + walking away with a slow, careless stride, as if he were not worth + thinking of more, leaped into his cage, and lay down. The thing passed so + swiftly that Clare did not see him touch the man with his paw, and thought + he had but thrown him down with his weight. The beast, however, had not + left the brute without the lesson he needed; he had given him just one + little pat on the side of the head. + </p> + <p> + Gunn rose staggering. The skin and something more was torn down his cheek + from the temple almost to the chin, and the blood was streaming. Clare + hastened to help him, but he flung him aside, muttering with an oath, + “I'll make you pay for this!” and went out, holding his head with both + hands. + </p> + <p> + Clare went and shot the bolt of the cage. Pummy sprang up. His tail and + swift-shifting feet showed eager expectation of a romp. He had already + forgotten the curling lash of the terrible whip! But Clare bade him + good-night with a kiss through the bars. + </p> + <p> + Glum Gunn kept his bed for more than a week. When at length he appeared, a + demonstration of the best art of the surgeon of the town, he was not + beautiful to look upon. To the end of his evil earthly days he bore an + ugly scar; and neither his heart nor his temper were the better for his + well deserved punishment. + </p> + <p> + Mrs. Halliwell questioned Clare about the whole thing, inquiring further + and further as his answers suggested new directions. Her catechism ended + with a partial discovery of Gunn's behaviour to her <i>protegé</i>, whom + she loved the more that he had been so silent concerning it. She stood + perturbed. One moment her face flushed with anger, the next turned pale + with apprehension. She bit her lip, and the tears came in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind, mother,” said Clare, who saw no reason for such emotion; “I'm + not afraid of him.” + </p> + <p> + “I know you're not, sonny,” she answered; “but that don't make me the less + afraid for you. He's a bad man, that brother-in-law of mine! I fear he'll + do you a mischief. I'm afraid I did wrong in taking you! I ought to have + done what I could for you without keeping you about me. We can't get rid + of him because he's got money in the business. Not that he's part owner—I + don't mean that! If we'd got the money handy, we'd pay him off at once!” + </p> + <p> + “I don't care about myself,” said Clare. “I don't mean I like to be + kicked, but it don't make me miserable. What I can't bear is to see him + cruel to the beasts. I love the beasts, mother—even cross old + Grizzly.—But Mr. Gunn don't meddle much with <i>him</i>!” + </p> + <p> + “He respects his own ugly sort!” answered Mrs. Halliwell, with a laugh. + </p> + <p> + For a while it was plain to Clare that the master kept an eye on his + brother, and on himself and the puma. On one occasion he told the + assembled staff that he would have no tyranny: every one knew there was + among them but one tyrant. Gunn saw that his brother was awake and + watching: it was a check on his conduct, but he hated Clare the worse. For + the puma, he was afraid of him now, and went no more into his cage. + </p> + <p> + With the rest of the men Clare was a favourite, for they knew him true and + helpful, and constantly the same: they could always depend on him! Abdiel + shared in the favour shown his master. They said the dog was no beauty, + and had not a hair of breeding, but he was almost a human creature, if he + wasn't too good for one, and it was a shame to kick him. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0049" id="link2HCH0049"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter XLIX. Glum Gunn's revenge. + </h2> + <p> + They had opened the menagerie in a certain large town. It was the + evening-exhibition, and Clare was going his round with his wand of office, + pointing to the different animals, and telling of them what he thought + would most interest his hearers, when another attendant, the most friendly + of all, came behind him, and whispered that Glum Gunn had got hold of + Abby, and must be going to do the dog a mischief. Clare instantly gave him + his wand, and bolted through the crowd, reproaching himself that, because + Abby seemed restless, he had shut him up: if he had not been shut up, Gunn + would not have got hold of him! + </p> + <p> + When he reached the top of the steps, there was Gunn on the platform, + addressing the crowd. It was plain to the boy, by this time not + inexperienced, that he had been drinking, and, though not drunk, had taken + enough to rouse the worst in him. He had the poor dog by the scruff of the + neck, and was holding him out at arm's-length. Abdiel was the very picture + of wretchedness. Except in colour and size, he was more like a flea than + like any sort of dog—with his hind legs drawn up, his tail tucked in + tight between them, and his back-bone curved into a half circle. In this + uncomfortable plight, the tyrant was making a burlesque speech about him. + </p> + <p> + “Here you see, ladies and gentlemen,” he said, resuming a little, for a + few fresh spectators were in the act of joining the border of the crowd, + “as I have already had the honour of informing you, one of the most + extraordinary productions of the vegetable kingdom. It is not unnatural + that you should be, as I see you are, inclined to dispute the assertion. I + am, indeed, far from being surprised at your scepticism; the very + strangeness of the phenomenon consists in his being to all appearance + neither more nor less than a dog. But when I have the honour of leaving + you to your astonishment, I shall have convinced you that he is in reality + nothing but a vegetable. I would plainly call him what he is—a + cucumber, did I not fear the statement would demand of you more than your + powers of credence, evidently limited, could well afford. But when I have, + before your eyes, cut the throat of this vegetable, so extremely like an + ugly mongrel, and when those eyes see no single drop of blood follow the + knife, then you will be satisfied of the truth of my assertion; and, + having gazed on such a specimen of Nature's jugglery, will, I hope, do me + the honour to walk up and behold yet greater wonders within.” + </p> + <p> + He ceased, and set about getting his knife from his pocket. + </p> + <p> + Clare, watching Gunn's every motion, had partially sheltered himself + behind the side of the doorway. One who did not know Gunn, might well have + taken the thing for a practical joke, as innocent as it was foolish, the + pretended conclusion of which would be met by some comical frustration, + probably the dog's escape; but Clare saw that his friend was in mortal + peril. With the eye of one used to wild animals and the unexpectedness of + their sudden motions, he stood following every movement of Gunn's hands, + ready to anticipate whatever action might indicate its own approach: he + watched like the razor-clawed lynx. While Gunn held Abdiel as he did, he + could not seriously injure him; and although he was hurting him + dreadfully, his hate-possessed fingers, like a live, writhing vice, + worrying and squeezing the skin of his poor little neck, it yet was better + to wait the right moment. + </p> + <p> + When he saw the arm that held the dog drawn in, and the other hand move to + the man's pocket, he knew that in a moment more, with a theatrical cry of + dismay from the murderer, the body of his friend would be dashed on the + ground, his head half off, and the blood streaming from his neck. They + were mostly a rather vulgar people that stood about the platform, not a + few of them capable of being delighted with such an end to a joke poor + without some catastrophe. + </p> + <p> + The wretch had stooped a little, and slightly relaxed his hold on the dog + to open his knife, when with a bound that doubled the force of the blow + Clare struck him on the side of the head. He had no choice where to hit + him, and his fist fell on the spot so lately torn by the claws of Pummy. + The tyrant fell, and lay for a moment stunned. Abdiel flung himself on his + master, exultant at finding the thing after all the joke he had been + trying in vain to believe it. Clare caught him up and dashed down the + steps, one instant before Glum Gunn rose, cursing furiously. Clare charged + the crowd: it was not a time to be civil! Abdiel's life was in imminent + danger! That his own was in the same predicament did not occur to him. + </p> + <p> + His sudden rush took the crowd by surprise, or those next the caravans + would, I fear, have stopped him. Some started to follow him, but the + portion of the crowd he came to next, had more in it of a better sort, and + closed up behind him. There all the women and most of the men took the + part of the boy that loved his dog. + </p> + <p> + “What be you a-shovin' at?” bawled a huge country-man, against whom Gunn + made a cannon as he rushed in pursuit. “Aw'll knock 'ee flat—aw + wull! Let little un an's dawg aloan! Aw be for un! Hit me an'ye choose—aw + doan't objec'!” + </p> + <p> + Every attempt Gunn made to pass him, the man pushed his great body in his + way, and he soon saw there was no chance of overtaking Clara The wings of + Hate are swift, but not so swift as those of rescuing Love; and Help is + far readier to run to Love than to Hate. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0050" id="link2HCH0050"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter L. Clare seeks help. + </h2> + <p> + Clare got out of the crowd, and was soon beyond sight of anyone that knew + what had taken place, his heart exulting that he had saved his friend who + trusted in him. He hurried on, heedless whither, his only thought to get + away from the man that would murder Abby; and the town was a long way + behind ere the question of what they were to do for supper and shelter + presented itself. This had grown a strange thought, so long had the + caravan been to him a house of warmth and plenty. But comfort has its + disadvantages; and Clare discovered, with some dismay, that he was not + quite so free as ere the luxurious life of the last few weeks began: both + Abby and he would be less able, he feared, to bear hunger and cold. It was + but to start afresh, however, and grow abler! One consolation was, that, + if they felt hunger more, it could not do them so much harm: they had more + capital to go upon. He must not gather cowardice instead of courage from a + season of prosperity! He was glad for Abdiel, though, that he grew his own + clothes: he had left his warmest behind him. + </p> + <p> + It made him ashamed to find himself regretting his clothes when he had + lost a mother! Then it pleased him to think that she had his sovereign, + and the wages due since his clothes were paid for. They would help to give + Glum Gunn his own, and set the beasts free from him! Then he would go back + and spend his life with his mother and Pummy! Poor Pummy! But though Gunn + hated him, he was now afraid of him too; and his fear would be the + creature's protection! He had imagined it his might that cowed the puma, + when it was the animal's human gentleness that made him submissive to man: + he knew better now! Clare clasped Abdiel to his bosom, and trudged on. + They had gone miles ere it occurred to him that it might be more + comfortable for both if each carried his individual burden. He set Abdiel + down, and the dog ran vibrating with pleasure. Clare felt himself set down, + but with no tail to wag. + </p> + <p> + It was late in the autumn: they could do without supper, but they must if + possible find shelter! A farm-house came in sight. It recalled so vividly + Clare's early experiences of houselessness, that beasts and caravans, his + mother and Glum Gunn, grew hazy and distant, and the old time drew so near + that he seemed to have waked into it out of a long dream. They were back + in the old misery—a misery in which, however, his heart had not been + pierced as now with the pangs of innocent creatures unable or unwilling to + defend themselves from their natural guardian! It was long before he + learned that for weeks Gunn was unable to hurt one of them; that his + drinking, his late wound, and the blow Clare had given him, brought on him + a severe attack of erysipelas. + </p> + <p> + When they reached the farm-yard, Clare knew by the aspect of things that + the cattle were housed and the horses suppered. He crept unseen into one + of the cow-houses: the bodies and breath of the animals would keep them + warm! How sweet the smell seemed to him after that of the caravans! An + empty stall was before him, like a chamber prepared for his need. He + gathered a few straws from under each of the cows, taking care that not + one of them should be the less comfortable, and spread with them for Abby + and himself a thin couch. + </p> + <p> + But with the excitement of what had happened, his wonder as to what would + come next, and the hunger that had begun to gnaw at him, Clare could not + sleep. And as he lay awake, thoughts came to him. + </p> + <p> + Whence do the thoughts come to us? Of one thing I am sure—that I do + not make or even send for my own thoughts. If some greater one did not + think about us, we should not think about anything. Then what a wonder is + the night! How it works compelling people to think! Surely somehow God + comes nearer in the night! Clare began to think how helpless he was. He + was not thinking of food and warmth, but of doing things for the beings he + loved. It seemed to him hard that he could but love, and nothing more. + There was his mother! he could do nothing to deliver her from that + villainous brother-in-law! There was Pummy, exposed to the cruelty of the + same evil man! and again he could do nothing for him! There was Maly! he + could do nothing for her—nothing to make her father and mother glad + for her up in the dome of the angels! + </p> + <p> + Was it possible that he really could do nothing? + </p> + <p> + Then came the thought that people used to say prayers in the days when he + went with his mother to church. He had been taught to say prayers himself, + but had begun to forget them when there was no bed to kneel beside. What + did saying prayers mean? In the Bible-stories people prayed when they were + in trouble and could not help themselves! Did it matter that he had no + church and no bedside? Surely one place must be as good as another, if it + was true that God was everywhere! Surely he could hear him wherever he + spoke! Neither could there be any necessity for speaking loud! God would + hear, however low he spoke! Then he remembered that God knew the thoughts + of his creatures: if so, he might think a prayer to him; there was no need + for any words! + </p> + <p> + From the moment of that conclusion, Clare began to pray to God. And now he + prayed the right kind of prayer; that is, his prayers were real prayers; + he asked for what he wanted. To say prayers asking God for things we do + not care about, is to mock him. When we ask for something we want, it may + be a thing God does not care to give us; but he likes us to speak to him + about it. If it is good for us, he will give it us; if it is not good, he + will not give it to us, for it would hurt us. But Clare only asked God to + do what he is always doing: his prayer was that God would be good to all + his mothers, and to his two fathers, and Mr. Halliwell, and Maly, and + Sarah, and his own baby, and Tommy—and poor Pummy, and would, if + Glum Gunn beat him, help him to bear the blows, and not mind them very + much. He ended with something like this: + </p> + <p> + “God, I can't do anything for anybody! I wish I could! You can get near + them, God: please do something good to every one of them because I can't. + I think I could go to sleep now, if I were sure you had listened!” + </p> + <p> + Having thus cast all his cares on God, he did go to sleep; and woke in the + morning ready for the new day that arrived with his waking. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0051" id="link2HCH0051"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter LI. Clare a true master. + </h2> + <p> + It would take a big book to tell all the things of interest that happened + to Clare in the next few weeks. They would be mainly how and where he + found refuge, and how he and Abdiel got things to eat. Verily they did not + live on the fat of the land. Now and then some benevolent person, seeing + him in such evident want, would contrive a job in order to pay him for it: + in one place, although they had no need of him, certain good people gave + him ten days' work under a gardener, and dismissed him with twenty + shillings in his pocket. + </p> + <p> + One way and another, Clare and Abdiel did not die of hunger or of cold. + That is the summary of their history for a good many weeks. + </p> + <p> + One night they slept on a common, in the lee of a gypsy tent, and + contrived to get away in the morning without being seen. For Clare feared + they might offer him something stolen, and hunger might persuade him to + ask no questions. Many respectable people will laugh at the idea of a boy + being so particular. Such are immeasurably more to be pitied than Clare. + No one could be hard on a boy who in such circumstances took what was + offered him, but he would not be so honest as Clare—though he might + well be more honest than such as would laugh at him. + </p> + <p> + Another time he went up to a large house, to see if he might not there get + a job. He found the place, for the time at least, abandoned: I suppose the + persons in charge had deserted their post to make holiday. He lingered + about until the evening fell, and then got with Abdiel under a glass frame + in the kitchen-garden. But the glass was so close to them that Clare + feared breaking it; so they got out again, and lay down on a bench in a + shed for potting plants. + </p> + <p> + Clare was waked in the morning by a sound cuff on the side of the head. He + got off the bench, took up Abdiel, and coming to himself, said to the + gardener who stood before him in righteous indignation, + </p> + <p> + “I'm much obliged to you for my bedroom, sir. It was very cold last + night.” + </p> + <p> + His words and respectful manner mollified the gardener a little. + </p> + <p> + “You have no business here!” he returned. + </p> + <p> + “I know that, sir; but what is a boy to do?” answered Clare. “I wasn't + hurting anything, and it was so cold we might have died if we had slept + out of doors.” + </p> + <p> + “That's no business of mine!” + </p> + <p> + “But it is of mine,” rejoined Clare; “—except you think a boy that + can't get work ought to commit suicide. If he mustn't do that, he can't + always help doing what people with houses don't like!” + </p> + <p> + The gardener was not a bad sort of fellow, and perceived the truth in what + the boy said. + </p> + <p> + “That's always the story!” he replied, however. “Can't get work! No idle + boy ever could get work! I know the sort of you—well!” + </p> + <p> + “Would you mind giving me a chance?” returned Clare eagerly. “I wouldn't + ask much wages.” + </p> + <p> + “You wouldn't, if you asked what you was worth!” + </p> + <p> + “We'd be worth our victuals anyhow!” answered Clare, who always counted + the dog. + </p> + <p> + “Who's we?” asked the man. “Be there a hundred of you?” + </p> + <p> + “No; only two. Only me and Abdiel here!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, that beast of a mongrel?” + </p> + <p> + The gardener made a stride as if to seize the dog. Clare bounded from him. + The man burst into a mocking laugh. + </p> + <p> + “He's a good dog, indeed, sir!” said Clare. + </p> + <p> + “You'll give him the sack before I give you a job.” + </p> + <p> + “We're old friends, sir; we can't be parted!” + </p> + <p> + “I thought as much!” cried the gardener. “They're always ready to work, + an' so hungry! But will they part with the mangy dog? Not they! Hard work + and good wages ain't nowhere beside a mongrel pup! Get out! Don't I know + the whole ugly bilin' of ye!” + </p> + <p> + Clare turned away with a gentle good-morning, which the man did not get + out of his heart for a matter of two days, and departed, hugging Abdiel. + </p> + <p> + He was often cold and always hungry, but his life was anything but dull. + The man who does not know where his next meal is to come from, is seldom + afflicted with ennui. That is the monopoly of the enviable with nothing to + do, and everything money can get them. A foolish west-end life has + immeasurably more discomfort in it than that of a street Arab. The + ordinary beggar, while in tolerable health, finds far more enjoyment than + most fashionable ladies. + </p> + <p> + Thus Clare went wandering long, seeking work, and finding next to none—all + the time upheld by the feeling that something was waiting for him + somewhere, that he was every day drawing nearer to it. Not once yet had he + lost heart. In very virtue of unselfishness and lack of resentment, he was + strong. Not once had he shed a tear for himself, not once had he pitied + his own condition. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0052" id="link2HCH0052"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter LII. Miss Tempest. + </h2> + <p> + Without knowing it, he was approaching the sea. Walking along a chain of + downs, he saw suddenly from the top of one of them, for the first time in + his memory though not in his life, the sea—a pale blue cloud, as it + appeared, far on the horizon, between two low hills. The sight of it, + although he did not at first know what it was, brought with it a strange + inexplicable feeling of dolorous pleasure. For this he could not account. + It was the faintest revival of an all but obliterated impression of + something familiar to his childhood, lying somewhere deeper than the + memory, which was a blank in regard to it. But that feeling was not all + that the sight awoke in him. The pale blue cloud bore to him such a look + of the eternal, that it seemed the very place for God to live in—the + solemn, stirless region of calm in which the being to whom now of late he + had first begun in reality to pray, kept his abode. The hungry, worn, + tattered boy, with nothing to call his own but a great hope and a little + dog, fell down on his bare knees on the hard road, and stretched out his + hands in an ecstasy toward the low cloud. + </p> + <p> + The far-off ringing tramp of a horse's feet aroused him. He rose light as + an athlete, the great hope grown twice its former size, and hunger + forgotten. + </p> + <p> + The blue cloud kept in sight, and by and by he knew it was the sea he saw, + though how or at what moment the knowledge came to him he could not have + told. The track was leading him toward one of the principal southern + ports. + </p> + <p> + By this time he was again very thin; but he had brown cheeks and clear + eyes, and, save when suffering immediately from hunger, felt perfectly + well. Hunger is a sad thing notwithstanding its deep wholesomeness; but + there is immeasurably more suffering in the world from eating too much + than from eating too little. + </p> + <p> + Well able by this time to read the signs of the road, he perceived at + length he must be drawing near a town. He had already passed a house or + two with a little lawn in front, and indications of a garden behind; and + he hoped yet again that here, after all, he might get work. To door after + door he carried his modest request: some doors were shut in his face + almost before he could speak; at others he had a civil word from maid, or + a rough word from man; from none came sound of assent. It had become + harder too to find shelter. Ever as he went, space was more and more + appropriated and enclosed; less and less room was left for the man for + whom had been made no special cubic provision of earth and air, and who + had no money—the most disreputable of conditions in the eyes of such + as would be helpless if they had none. A rare philosopher for eyes capable + of understanding him, he was a despicable being in the eyes of the common + man. To know a human being one must be human—that is, the divine + must be strong in him. + </p> + <p> + For some days now, neither Clare nor Abdiel had come even within sight of + food enough to make a meal. The dog was rather thinner than his master. + </p> + <p> + “Abdiel,” said Clare to him one day, “I fear you will soon be a serpent! + Your body gets longer and longer, and your legs get shorter and shorter: + you'll be crawling presently, rubbing the hair off your useless little + belly on the dusty road! Never mind, Abdiel; you'll be a good serpent. + Satan was turned into a bad serpent because he was a bad angel; you will + be a good serpent, because you are a good dog! I hope, however, we shall + yet put a stop to the serpent-business!” + </p> + <p> + Abdiel wagged his tail, as much as to say, “All right, master!” + </p> + <p> + The nights were now very cold; winter was coming fast. Had Clare been long + enough in one place for people to know him, he would never have been + allowed to go so cold and hungry; but he had always to move on, and nobody + had time to learn to care about him. So the terrible sunless season + threatened to wrap him in its winding-sheet, and lay him down. + </p> + <p> + One evening, just before sunset, grown sleepy in spite of the gathering + cold, he sat down on one of the two steep grassy slopes that bordered the + road. His feet were bare now, bare and brown, for his shoes had come to + such plight that it was a relief to throw them away; but his soles had + grown like leather. They rested in the dry shallow rain-channel, and his + body leaned back against the slope. Abdiel, instead of jumping on the bank + and lying in the soft grass, lay down on the leathery feet, and covered + them from the night with his long faithful body and its coat of tangled + hair. + </p> + <p> + The sun was shooting his last radiance along the road, and its redness + caressed the sleeping companions, when an elderly lady came to her gate at + the top of the opposite slope, and looked along the road with the sun. Her + reverting glance fell upon the sleepers—the Knight of Hope lying in + rags, not marble, his feet not upon his dog, but his dog upon his feet. It + was a touching picture, and the old lady's heart was one easily touched. + She looked and saw that the face of the boy, whose hunger was as plain as + his rags, was calm as the wintry sky. She wondered, but she needed not + have wondered; for storm of anger, drought of greed, nor rotting mist of + selfishness, had passed or rested there, to billow, or score, or waste. + </p> + <p> + Her mere glance seemed to wake Abdiel, who took advantage of his waking to + have a lick at the brown, dusty, brave, uncomplaining feet, so well used + to the world's <i>via dolorosa</i>. She saw, and was touched yet more by + this ministration of the guardian of the feet. Gently opening the gate she + descended the slope, crossed the road, and stood silent, regarding the + outcasts. No cloudy blanket covered the sky: ere morning the dew would lie + frozen on the grass! + </p> + <p> + “You shouldn't be sleeping there!” she said. + </p> + <p> + Abdiel started to his four feet and would have snarled, but with one look + at the lady changed his mind. Clare half awoke, half sat up, made an + inarticulate murmur, and fell back again. + </p> + <p> + “Get up, my boy,” said the old lady. “You must indeed!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, please, ma'am, must I?” answered Clare, slowly rising to his feet. “I + had but just lain down, and I'm so tired!—If I mayn't sleep <i>there</i>,” + he continued, “where <i>am</i> I to sleep?—Please, ma'am, why is + everybody so set against letting a boy sleep? It don't cost them anything! + I can understand not giving him work, if he looks too much in want of it; + but why should they count it bad of him to lie down and sleep?” + </p> + <p> + The lady wisely let him talk; not until he stopped did she answer him. + </p> + <p> + “It's because of the frost, my boy!” she said. “It would be the death of + you to sleep out of doors to-night!” + </p> + <p> + “It's a nice place for it, ma'am!” + </p> + <p> + “To sleep in? Certainly not!” + </p> + <p> + “I didn't mean that, ma'am. I meant a nice place to go away from—to + die in, ma'am!” + </p> + <p> + “That is not ours to choose,” answered the old lady severely, but the tone + of her severity trembled. + </p> + <p> + “I sha'n't find anywhere so nice as this bank,” said Clare, turning and + looking at it sorrowfully. + </p> + <p> + “There are plenty of places in the town. It's but a mile farther on!” + </p> + <p> + “But this is so much nicer, ma'am! And I've no money—none at all, + ma'am. When I came out of prison,—” + </p> + <p> + “Came out of <i>where</i>?” + </p> + <p> + “Out of prison, ma'am.” + </p> + <p> + He had never been in prison in a legal sense, never having been convicted + of anything; but he did not know the difference between detention and + imprisonment. + </p> + <p> + “Prison!” she exclaimed, holding up her hands in horror. “How dare you + mention prison!” + </p> + <p> + “Because I was in it, ma'am.” + </p> + <p> + “And to say it so coolly too! Are you not ashamed of yourself?” + </p> + <p> + “No, ma'am.” + </p> + <p> + “It's a shame to have been in prison.” + </p> + <p> + “Not if I didn't do anything wrong.” + </p> + <p> + “Nobody will believe that, I'm afraid!” + </p> + <p> + “I suppose not, ma'am! I used to feel very angry when people wouldn't + believe me, but now I see they are not to blame. And now I've got used to + it, and it don't hurt so much.—But,” he added with a sigh, “the + worst of it is, they won't give me any work!” + </p> + <p> + “Do you always tell people you've come out of prison?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, ma'am, when I think of it.” + </p> + <p> + “Then you can't wonder they won't give you work!” + </p> + <p> + “I don't, ma'am—not now. It seems a law of the universe!” + </p> + <p> + “Not of the universe, I think—but of this world—perhaps!” said + the old lady thoughtfully. + </p> + <p> + “But there's one thing I do wonder at,” said Clare. “When I say I've been + in prison, they believe me; but when I say I haven't done anything wrong, + then they mock me, and seem quite amused at being expected to believe + that. I can't get at it!” + </p> + <p> + “I daresay! But people will always believe you against yourself.—What + are you going to do, then, if nobody will give you work? You can't + starve!” + </p> + <p> + “Indeed I <i>can</i>, ma'am! It's just the one thing I've got to do. We've + been pretty near the last of it sometimes—me and Abdiel! Haven't we, + Abby?” + </p> + <p> + The dog wagged his tail, and the old lady turned aside to control her + feelings. + </p> + <p> + “Don't cry, ma'am,” said Clare; “I don't mind it—not <i>much</i>. + I'm too glad I didn't <i>do</i> anything, to mind it much! Why should I! + Ought I to mind it much, ma'am? Jesus Christ hadn't done anything, and + they killed <i>him</i>! I don't fancy it's so very bad to die of only + hunger! But we'll soon see!—Sha'n't we, Abby?” + </p> + <p> + Again the dog wagged his tail. + </p> + <p> + “If you didn't do anything wrong, what <i>did</i> you do?” said the old + lady, almost at her wits' end. + </p> + <p> + “I don't like telling things that are not going to be believed. It's like + washing your face with ink!” + </p> + <p> + “I will <i>try</i> to believe you.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I will tell you; for you speak the truth, ma'am, and so, perhaps, + will be able to believe the truth!” + </p> + <p> + “How do you know I speak the truth?” + </p> + <p> + “Because you didn't say, 'I will believe you.' Nobody can be sure of doing + that. But you can be sure of <i>trying</i>; and you said, 'I will <i>try</i> + to believe you.'” + </p> + <p> + “Tell me all about it then.” + </p> + <p> + “I will, ma'am.—The policeman came in the middle of the night when + we were asleep, and took us all away, because we were in a house that was + not ours.” + </p> + <p> + “Whose was it then?” + </p> + <p> + “Nobody knew. It was what they call in chancery. There was nobody in it + but moths and flies and spiders and rats;—though I think the rats + only came to eat baby.” + </p> + <p> + “Baby! Then the whole family of you, father, mother, and all, were taken + to prison!” + </p> + <p> + “No, ma'am; my fathers and my mothers were taken up into the dome of the + angels.”—What with hunger and sleepiness, Clare was talking like a + child.—“I haven't any father and mother in this world. I have two + fathers and two mothers up there, and one mother in this world. She's the + mother of the wild beasts.” + </p> + <p> + The old lady began to doubt the boy's sanity, but she went on questioning + him. + </p> + <p> + “How did you have a baby with you, then?” + </p> + <p> + “The baby was my own, ma'am. I took her out of the water-butt.” + </p> + <p> + Once more Clare had to tell his story—from the time, that is, when + his adoptive father and mother died. He told it in such a simple + matter-of-fact way, yet with such quaint remarks, from their very + simplicity difficult to understand, that, if the old lady, for all her + trying, was not able quite to believe his tale, it was because she doubted + whether the boy was not one of God's innocents, with an angel-haunted + brain. + </p> + <p> + “And what's become of Tommy?” she asked. + </p> + <p> + “He's in the same workhouse with baby. I'm very glad; for what I should + have done with Tommy, and nothing to give him to eat, I can't think. He + would have been sure to steal! I couldn't have kept him from it!” + </p> + <p> + “You must be more careful of your company.” + </p> + <p> + “Please, ma'am, I was very careful of Tommy. He had the best company I + could give him: I did try to be better for Tommy's sake. But my trying + wasn't much use to Tommy, so long as he wouldn't try! He was a little + better, though, I think; and if I had him now, and could give him plenty + to eat, and had baby as well as Abdiel to help me, we might make something + of Tommy, I think.—<i>You</i> think so—don't you, Abdiel?” + </p> + <p> + The dog, who had stood looking in his master's face all the time he spoke, + wagged his tail faster. + </p> + <p> + “What a name to give a dog! Where did you find it?” + </p> + <p> + “In Paradise Lost, ma'am. Abdiel was the one angel, you remember, ma'am, + who, when he saw what Satan was up to, left him, and went back to his + duty.” + </p> + <p> + “And what was his duty?” + </p> + <p> + “Why of course to do what God told him. I love Abdiel, and because I love + the little dog and he took care of baby, I call him Abdiel too. Heaven is + so far off that it makes no confusion to have the same name.” + </p> + <p> + “But how dare you give the name of an angel to a dog?” + </p> + <p> + “To a <i>good</i> dog, ma'am! A good dog is good enough to go with any + angel—at his heels of course! If he had been a bad dog, it would + have been wicked to name him after a good angel. If the dog had been Tommy—I + mean if Tommy had been the dog, I should have had to call him Moloch, or + Belzebub! God made the angels and the dogs; and if the dogs are good, God + loves them.—Don't he, Abdiel?” + </p> + <p> + Abdiel assented after his usual fashion. The lady said nothing. Clare went + on. + </p> + <p> + “Abdiel won't mind—the angel Abdiel, I mean, ma'am—he won't + mind lending his name to my friend. The dog will have a name of his own, + perhaps, some day—like the rest of us!” + </p> + <p> + “What is <i>your</i> name?” + </p> + <p> + “The name I have now is, like the dog's, a borrowed one. I shall get my + own one day—not here—but there—when—when—I'm + hungry enough to go and find it.” + </p> + <p> + Clare had grown very white. He sat down, and lay back on the grass. He had + talked more in those few minutes than for weeks, and want had made him + weak. He felt very faint. The dog jumped up, and fell to licking his face. + </p> + <p> + “What a wicked old woman I am!” said the lady to herself, and ran across + the road like some little long-legged bird, and climbed the bank swiftly. + </p> + <p> + She disappeared within the gate, but to return presently with a tumbler of + milk and a huge piece of bread. + </p> + <p> + “Here, boy!” she cried; “here is medicine for you! Make haste and take + it.” + </p> + <p> + Clare sat up feebly, and stared at the tumbler for a moment. Either he + could hardly believe his eyes, or was too sick to take it at once. When he + had it in his hand, he held it out to the dog. + </p> + <p> + “Here, Abdiel, have a little,” he said. + </p> + <p> + This offended the old lady. + </p> + <p> + “You're never going to give the dog that good milk!” she cried. + </p> + <p> + “A little of it, please, ma'am!” + </p> + <p> + “—And feed him out of the tumbler too?” + </p> + <p> + “He's had nothing to-day, ma'am, and we're comrades!” + </p> + <p> + “But it's not clean of you!” + </p> + <p> + “Ah, you don't know dogs, ma'am! His tongue is clean as clean as + anybody's.” + </p> + <p> + Abdiel took three or four little laps of the milk, drew away, and looked + up at his master—as much as to say, “You, now!” + </p> + <p> + “Besides,” Clare went on, “he couldn't get at it so well in the bottom of + the tumbler.” + </p> + <p> + With that he raised it to his own lips, drank eagerly, and set it on the + road half empty, looking his thanks to the giver with a smile she thought + heavenly. Then he broke the bread, and giving the dog nearly the half of + it, began to eat the rest himself. The old lady stood looking on in + silence, pondering what she was to do with the celestial beggar. + </p> + <p> + “Would you mind sleeping in the greenhouse, if I had a bed put up for + you?” she said at length, in tone apologetic. + </p> + <p> + “This is a better place—though I wish it was warmer!” said Clare, + with another smile as he looked up at the sky, in which a few stars were + beginning to twinkle, and thought of the gardeners he had met. “—Don't + you think it better, ma'am?” + </p> + <p> + “No, indeed, I don't!” she answered crossly; for to her the open air at + night seemed wrong, disreputable. There was something unholy in it! + </p> + <p> + “I would rather stay here,” said Clare. + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Because you don't quite believe me, ma'am. You can't; and you can't help + it. You wouldn't be able to sleep for thinking that a boy just out of + prison was lying in the greenhouse. There would be no saying what he might + not do! I once read in a newspaper how an old lady took a lad into her + house for a servant, and he murdered her!—No, ma'am, thank you! + After such a supper we shall sleep beautifully!—Sha'n't we, Abby? + And then, perhaps, you could give me a job in the garden to-morrow! I + daresay the gardener wants a little help sometimes! But if he knew me to + have slept in the greenhouse, he would hate me.” + </p> + <p> + The old lady said nothing, for, like most old ladies, she feared her + gardener. She took the tumbler from the boy's hand, and went into the + house. But in two minutes she came again, with another great piece of + bread for Clare, and a bone with something on it which she threw to + Abdiel. The dog's ears started up, erect and alive, like individual + creatures, and his eyes gleamed; but he looked at his master, and would + not touch the bone without his leave—which given, he fell upon it, + and worried it as if it had been a rat. + </p> + <p> + Clare was now himself again, and when the old lady left them for the third + time, he walked with her across the way, bread in hand, to open the gate + for her. When she was inside, he took off his cap, and bade her good-night + with a grace that won all that was left to be won of her heart. + </p> + <p> + Before she had taken three steps from the gate, the old lady turned. + </p> + <p> + “Boy!” she called; and Clare, who was making for his couch under the + stars, hastened back at the sound of her voice. + </p> + <p> + “I shall not be able to sleep,” she said, “for thinking of you out there + in the bleak night!” + </p> + <p> + “I am used to it, ma'am!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, I daresay! but you see I'm not! and I don't like the thought of it! + You may like hoarfrost-sheets, for what I know, but I don't! You may like + the stars for a tester—because you want to die and go to them, I + suppose!—but I have no fancy for the stars! You are a foolish + fellow, and I am out of temper with you. You don't give a thought to me—or + to my feelings if you should die! I should never go to bed again with a + good conscience!—Besides, I should have to nurse you!” + </p> + <p> + The last member of her expostulation was hardly in logical sequence, but + it had not the less influence on Clare for that. + </p> + <p> + “I will do whatever you please, ma'am,” he answered humbly. “—Come, + Abdiel!” + </p> + <p> + The dog came running across the road with his bone in his mouth. + </p> + <p> + “You mustn't bring that inside the gate, Ab!” said Clare. + </p> + <p> + The dog dropped it. + </p> + <p> + “Good dog! It's a lady's garden, you know, Abdiel!” Then turning to his + hostess, Clare added, “I always tell him when I'm pleased with him: don't + you think it right, ma'am?” + </p> + <p> + “I daresay! I don't know anything about dogs.” + </p> + <p> + “If you had a dog like Abdiel, he would soon teach you dogs, ma'am!” + rejoined Clare. + </p> + <p> + By this time they were at the house-door. The lady told him to wait there, + went in, and had a talk with her two maids. In half an hour, Clare and his + four-footed angel were asleep—in an outhouse, it is true, but in a + comfortable bed, such as they had not seen since their flight from the + caravans. The cold breeze wandered moaning like a lost thing round the + bare walls, as if every time it woke, it went abroad to see if there was + any hope for the world; but it did not touch them; and if through their + ears it got into their dreams, it made their sleep the sweeter, and their + sense of refuge the deeper. + </p> + <p> + But although the bewitching boy and his good dog were not lying in the + open air over against her gate, and although never a thought of murder or + theft came to trouble her, it was long before the old lady found repose. + Her heart had been deeply touched. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0053" id="link2HCH0053"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter LIII. The gardener. + </h2> + <p> + From the fact that his hostess made him no answer when he breathed the + hope of a job in her garden, Clare concluded that he had presumed in + suggesting the thing to her, and that she would be relieved by their + departure. When he woke in the morning, therefore, early after a grand + sleep, he felt he had no right to linger: he had been invited to sleep, + and he had slept! He also shrank from the idea of being supposed to expect + his breakfast before he went. So, as soon as he got up, he walked out of + the gate, crossed the road, and sat down on the spot he had occupied the + night before, there to wait until the house should be astir. For, although + he could not linger within gates where he was unknown, neither could he + slink away without morning-thanks for the gift of a warm night. + </p> + <p> + As he sat, he grew drowsy, and leaning back, fell fast asleep. + </p> + <p> + The thoughts of his hostess had been running on very different lines, and + she woke with feelings concerning the pauper very different from those the + pauper imagined in her. She must do something for him; she must give or + get him work! As to giving him work, her difficulty lay in the gardener. + She resolved, however, to attempt over-coming it. + </p> + <p> + She rose earlier than usual, therefore, and as the man, who did not sleep + in the house, was not yet come, she went down to the gate to meet him and + have the thing over—so eager was she, and so nervous in prospect of + such an interview with her dreaded servant. + </p> + <p> + “Good gracious!” she murmured aloud, “does it rain beggars?” For there, on + the same spot, lay another beggar, another boy, with a dog in his bosom + the facsimile of the ugly white thing named after Milton's angel! She did + not feel moved to go and make his acquaintance. It could not be another of + the family, could it? that had already heard of his brother's good luck, + and come to see whether there might not be a picking for him too! She + turned away hurriedly lest he should wake, and went back to the house. + </p> + <p> + But looking behind her as she mounted the steps, she caught sight of the + gardener at the other gate, casting a displeased look across the road + before he entered: he did not like to see tramps about! Her heart sank a + little, but she was not to be turned aside. + </p> + <p> + The gardener came in, and his mistress joined him and walked with him to + his work, telling him as much as she thought fit concerning the boy, and + interspersing her narrative with hints of the duty of giving every one a + chance. She took care not to mention that he had come out of a prison + somewhere. + </p> + <p> + “No one should be driven to despair,” she said, little thinking she used + almost the very words of the Lord, according to the Sinaitic reading of a + passage in St. Luke's gospel. + </p> + <p> + The argument had little force with the rough Scotchman: his mistress was + soft-hearted! He shook his head ominously at the idea of giving a tramp + the chance of doing decent work, but at last consented, with a show of + being over-persuaded to an imprudent action, to let the boy help him for a + day, and see how he got on, stipulating, however, that he should not be + supposed to have pledged himself to anything. + </p> + <p> + Miss Tempest's plans went beyond the gardener's scope. She had for some + months been inclined to have a boy to help in the house—an + inclination justified by a late unexpected accession of income: if this + boy were what he seemed, he would make a more than valuable servant; and + nothing could clear her judgment of him better, she thought, than putting + him to the test of a brief subjection to the cross-grained, exacting + Scotchman. By that she would soon know whether to dismiss him, or venture + with him farther! + </p> + <p> + She had but just wrung his hard consent from the gardener, when the cook + came running, to say the boy was gone. Upon poor Miss Tempest's heart fell + a cold avalanche. + </p> + <p> + “But we've counted the spoons, ma'am, and they're all right!” said the + cook. + </p> + <p> + This additional statement, however, did not seem to give much consolation + to the benevolent old lady. She stood for a moment with her eyes on the + ground, too pained to move or speak. Then she started, and ran to the + gate. The cook ran after, thinking her mistress gone out of her mind—and + was sure of it when she saw her open the gate, and run straight down the + bank to the road. But when she reached the gate herself, she saw her + standing over a boy asleep on the grass of the opposite bank. + </p> + <p> + Abdiel, lying on his bosom, watched her with keen friendly eyes. Clare was + dreaming some agreeable morning-dream; for a smile of such pleasure as + could haunt only an innocent face, nickered on it like a sunny ripple on + the still water of a pool. + </p> + <p> + “No!” said Miss Tempest to herself; “there's no duplicity there! + Otherwise, a tree is not known by its fruit!” + </p> + <p> + Clare opened his eyes, and started lightly to his feet, strong and + refreshed. + </p> + <p> + “Good morning, ma'am!” he said, pulling off his cap. + </p> + <p> + “Good morning—what am I to call you?” she returned. + </p> + <p> + “Clare, if you please, ma'am.” + </p> + <p> + “What is your Christian name?” + </p> + <p> + “That is my Christian name, ma'am—Clare.” + </p> + <p> + “Then what is your surname?” + </p> + <p> + “I am called Porson, ma'am, but I have another name. Mr. Porson adopted + me.” + </p> + <p> + “What is your other name?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know, ma'am. I am going to know one day, I think; but the day is + not come yet.” + </p> + <p> + He told her all he could about his adoptive parents, and little Maly; but + the time before he went to the farm was growing strangely dreamlike, as if + it had sunk a long way down in the dark waters of the past—all up to + the hour when Maly was carried away by the long black aunt. + </p> + <p> + The story accounted to Miss Tempest both for his good speech and the name + of his dog. The adopted child of a clergyman might well be acquainted with + <i>Paradise Lost</i>, though she herself had never read more of it than + the apostrophe to Light in the beginning of the third book! That she had + learned at school without understanding phrase or sentence of it; while + Clare never left passage alone until he understood it, or, failing that, + had invented a meaning for it. + </p> + <p> + “Well, then, Clare, I've been talking to my gardener about you,” said Miss + Tempest. “He will give you a job.” + </p> + <p> + “God bless you, ma'am! I'm ready!” cried Clare, stretching out his arms, + as if to get them to the proper length for work. “Where shall I find him?” + </p> + <p> + “You must have breakfast first.” + </p> + <p> + She led the way to the kitchen. + </p> + <p> + The cook, a middle-aged woman, looked at the dog, and her face puckered + all over with points of interrogation and exclamation. + </p> + <p> + “Please, cook, will you give this young man some breakfast? He wanted to + go to work without any, but that wouldn't do—would it, cook?” said + her mistress. + </p> + <p> + “I hope the dog won't be running in and out of my kitchen all day, ma'am!” + </p> + <p> + “No fear of that, cook!” said Clare; “he never leaves me.” + </p> + <p> + “Then I don't think—I'm afraid,” she began, and stopped. “—But + that's none of my business,” she added. “John will look after his own—and + more!” + </p> + <p> + Miss Tempest said nothing, but she almost trembled; for John, she knew, + had a perfect hatred of dogs. Nor could anyone wonder, for, gate open or + gate shut, in they came and ran over his beds. She dared not interfere! He + and Clare must settle the question of Abdiel or no Abdiel between them! + She left the kitchen. + </p> + <p> + The cook threw the dog a crust of bread, and Abdiel, after a look at his + master, fell upon it with his white, hungry little teeth. Then she + proceeded to make a cup of coffee for Clare, casting an occasional glance + of pity at his garments, so miserably worn and rent, and his brown bare + feet. + </p> + <p> + “How on the face of this blessed world, boy, do you expect to work in the + garden without shoes?” she said at length. + </p> + <p> + “Most things I can do well enough without them,” answered Clare; “—even + digging, if the ground is not very hard. My feet used to be soft, but now + the soles of them are like leather.—They've grown their own shoes,” + he added, with a smile, and looked straight in her eyes. + </p> + <p> + The smile and the look went far to win her heart, as they had won that of + her mistress: she felt them true, and wondered how such a fair-spoken, + sweet-faced boy could be on the tramp. She poured him out a huge cup of + coffee, fried him a piece of bacon, and cut him as much bread and butter + as he could dispose of. He had not often eaten anything but dry bread, in + general very dry, since he left the menagerie, and now felt feasted like + an emperor. Pleased with the master, the cook fed the dog with equal + liberality; and then, curious to witness their reception by John, between + whom and herself was continuous feud, she conducted Clare to the gardener. + From a distance he saw them coming. With look irate fixed upon the dog, he + started to meet them. Clare knew too well the meaning of that look, and + saw in him Satan regarding Abdiel with eye of fire, and the words on his + lips— + </p> +<pre xml:space="preserve"> + “And fly, ere evil intercept thy flight.” + </pre> + <p> + The moment he came near enough, without word, or show of malice beyond + what lay in his eye, he made, with the sharp hoe he carried, a sudden + downstroke at the faithful angel, thinking to serve him as Gabriel served + Moloch. But Abdiel was too quick for him: he had read danger in his very + gait the moment he saw him move, and enmity in his eyes when he came + nearer. He kept therefore his own eyes on the hoe, and never moved until + the moment of attack. Then he darted aside. The weapon therefore came down + on the hard gravel, jarring the arm of his treacherous enemy. With a + muttered curse John followed him and made another attempt, which Abdiel in + like manner eluded. John followed and followed; Abdiel fled and fled—never + farther than a few yards, seeming almost to entice the man's pursuit, + sometimes pirouetting on his hind legs to escape the blows which the + gardener, growing more and more furious with failure, went on aiming at + him. Fruitlessly did Clare assure him that neither would the dog do any + harm, nor allow any one to hit him. It was from very weariness that at + last he desisted, and wiping his forehead with his shirt-sleeve, turned + upon Clare in the smothered wrath that knows itself ridiculous. For all + the time the cook stood by, shaking with delighted laughter at his every + fresh discomfiture. + </p> + <p> + “Awa', ye deil's buckie,” he cried, “an tak' the little Sawtan wi' ye! + Dinna lat me see yer face again.” + </p> + <p> + “But the lady told me you would give me a job!” said Clare. + </p> + <p> + “I didna tell her I wad gie yer tyke a job! I wad though, gien he wad lat + me!” + </p> + <p> + “He's given you a stiff one!” said the cook, and laughed again. + </p> + <p> + The gardener took no notice of her remark. + </p> + <p> + “Awa' wi' ye!” he cried again, yet more wrathfully, “—or—” + </p> + <p> + He raised his hand. + </p> + <p> + Clare looked in his eyes and did not budge. + </p> + <p> + “For shame, John!” expostulated the cook. “Would you strike a child?” + </p> + <p> + “I'm no child, cook!” said Clare. “He can't hurt me much. I've had a good + breakfast!” + </p> + <p> + “Lat 'im tak' awa' that deevil o' a tyke o' his, as I tauld him,” + thundered the gardener, “or I'll mak' a pulp o' 'im!” + </p> + <p> + “I've had such a breakfast, sir, as I'm bound to give a whole day's work + in return for,” said Clare, looking up at the angry man; “and I won't stir + till I've done it. Stolen food on my stomach would turn me sick!” + </p> + <p> + “Gien it did, it wadna be the first time, I reckon!” said the gardener. + </p> + <p> + “It <i>would</i> be the first time!” returned Clara “You are very rude.—If + Abdiel understood Scotch, he would bite you,” he added, as the dog, + hearing his master speak angrily, came up, ears erect, and took his place + at his side, ready for combat. + </p> + <p> + “Ye'll hae to tak' some ither mode o' payin' the debt!” said John. “Stick + spaud in yird here, ye sall not! You or I maun flit first!” + </p> + <p> + With that he walked slowly away, shouldering his hoe. + </p> + <p> + “Come, Abdiel,” said Clare; “we must go and tell Miss Tempest! Perhaps + she'll find something else for us to do. If she can't, she'll forgive us + our breakfast, and we'll be off on the tramp again. I thought we were + going to have a day's rest—I mean work; that's the rest we want! But + this man is an enemy to the poor.” + </p> + <p> + The gardener half turned, as if he would speak, but changed his mind and + went his way. + </p> + <p> + “Never mind John!” said the cook, loud enough for John to hear. “He's an + old curmudgeon as can't sleep o' nights for quarrellin' inside him. I'll + go to mis'ess, and you go and sit down in the kitchen till I come to you.” + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0054" id="link2HCH0054"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter LIV. The Kitchen. + </h2> + <p> + Clare went into the kitchen, and sat down. The housemaid came in, and + stood for a moment looking at him. Then she asked him what he wanted + there. + </p> + <p> + “Cook told me to wait here,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + “Wait for what?” + </p> + <p> + “Till she came to me. She's gone to speak to Miss Tempest.” + </p> + <p> + “I won't have that dog here.” + </p> + <p> + “When I had a home,” remarked Clare, “our servant said the cook was queen + of the kitchen: I don't want to be rude, ma'am, but I must do as she told + me.” + </p> + <p> + “She never told you to bring that mangy animal in here!” + </p> + <p> + “She knew he would follow me, and she said nothing about him. But he's not + mangy. He hasn't enough to eat to be mangy. He's as lean as a dried fish!” + </p> + <p> + The housemaid, being fat, was inclined to think the remark personal; but + Clare looked up at her with such clear, honest, simple eyes, that she + forgot the notion, and thought what a wonderfully nice boy he looked. + </p> + <p> + “He's shamefully poor, though! His clothes ain't even decent!” she + remarked to herself. + </p> + <p> + And certainly the white skin did look through in several places. + </p> + <p> + “You won't let him put his nose in anything, will you?” she said quite + gently, returning his smile with a very pleasant one of her own. + </p> + <p> + “Abdiel is too much of a gentleman to do it,” he answered. + </p> + <p> + “A dog a gentleman!” rejoined the housemaid with a merry laugh, willing to + draw him out. + </p> + <p> + “Abdiel can be hungry and not greedy,” answered Clare, and the young woman + was silent. + </p> + <p> + Miss Tempest and Mrs. Mereweather had all this time been turning over the + question of what was to be done with the strange boy. They agreed it was + too bad that anyone willing to work should be prevented from earning even + a day's victuals by the bad temper of a gardener. But his mistress did not + want to send the man away. She had found him scrupulously honest, as is + many a bad-tempered man, and she did not like changes. The cook on her + part had taken such a fancy to Clare that she did not want him set to + garden-work; she would have him at once into the house, and begin training + him for a page. Now Miss Tempest was greatly desiring the same thing, but + in dread of what the cook would say, and was delighted, therefore, when + the first suggestion of it came from Mrs. Mereweather herself. The only + obstacle in the cook's eyes was that same long, spectral dog. The boy + could not be such a fool, however,—she said, not being a lover of + animals—as let a wretched beast like that come betwixt him and a + good situation! + </p> + <p> + “It's all right, Clare,” said Mrs. Mereweather, entering her queendom so + radiant within that she could not repress the outshine of her pleasure. + “Mis'ess an' me, we've arranged it all. You're to help me in the kitchen; + an' if you can do what you're told, an' are willin' to learn, we'll soon + get you out of your troubles. There's but one thing in the way.” + </p> + <p> + “What is it, please?” asked Clare. + </p> + <p> + “The dog, of course! You must part with the dog.” + </p> + <p> + “That I cannot do,” returned Clare quietly, but with countenance fallen + and sorrowful. “—Come, Abdiel!” + </p> + <p> + The dog started up, every hair of him full of electric vitality. + </p> + <p> + “You don't mean you're going to walk yourself off in such a beastly + ungrateful fashion—an' all for a miserable cur!” exclaimed the cook. + </p> + <p> + “The lady has been most kind to us, and we're grateful to her, and ready + to work for her if she will let us;—ain't we, Abdiel? But Abdiel has + done far more for me than Miss Tempest! To part with Abdiel, and leave him + to starve, or get into bad company, would be sheer ingratitude. I should + be a creature such as Miss Tempest ought to have nothing to do with: I + might serve her as that young butler I told her of! It's just as bad to be + ungrateful to a dog as to any other person. Besides, he wouldn't leave me. + He would be always hanging about.” + </p> + <p> + “John would soon knock him on the head.” + </p> + <p> + “Would he, Abdiel?” said Clare. + </p> + <p> + The dog looked up in his master's face with such a comical answer in his + own, that the cook burst out laughing, and began to like Abdiel. + </p> + <p> + “But you don't really mean to say,” she persisted, “that you'd go off + again on the tramp, to be as cold and hungry again to-morrow as you were + yesterday—and all for the sake of a dog? A dog ain't a Christian!” + </p> + <p> + “Abdiel's more of a Christian than some I know,” answered Clare: “he does + what his master tells him.” + </p> + <p> + “There's something in that!” said the cook. + </p> + <p> + “If I parted with Abdiel, I could never hold up my head among the angels,” + insisted Clare. “Think what harm it might do him! He could trust nobody + after, his goodness might give way! He might grow worse than Tommy!—No; + I've got to take care of Abdiel, and Abdiel's got to take care of me!—'Ain't + you, Abby?” + </p> + <p> + “We can't have him here in the kitchen nohow!” said the cook in relenting + tone. + </p> + <p> + “Poor fellow!” said the housemaid kindly. + </p> + <p> + The dog turned to her and wagged his tail + </p> + <p> + “What wouldn't I give for a lover like that!” said the housemaid—but + whether of Clare or the dog I cannot say. + </p> + <p> + “I know what I shall do!” cried Clare, in sudden resolve. “I will ask Miss + Tempest to have him up-stairs with her, and when she is tired of either of + us, we will go away together.” + </p> + <p> + “A probable thing!” returned the cook. “A lady like Miss Tempest with a + dog like that about her! She'd be eaten up alive with fleas! In ten + minutes she would!” + </p> + <p> + “No fear of that!” rejoined Clare. “Abdiel catches all his <i>own</i> + fleas!—Don't you, Abby?” + </p> + <p> + The dog instantly began to burrow in his fell of hair—an answer + which might be taken either of two ways: it might indicate comprehension + and corroboration of his master, or the necessity for a fresh hunt. The + women laughed, much amused. + </p> + <p> + “Look here!” said Clare. “Let me have a tub of water—warm, if you + please—he likes that: I tried him once, passing a factory, where a + lot of it was running to waste. Then, with the help of a bit of soap, I'll + show you a body of hair to astonish you.” + </p> + <p> + “What breed is he?” asked the housemaid. + </p> + <p> + “He's all the true breeds under the sun, I fancy,” returned his master; + “but the most of him seems of the sky-blue terrier sort.” + </p> + <p> + The more they talked with Clare, the better the women liked him. They got + him a tub and plenty of warm water. Abdiel was nothing loath to be plunged + in, and Clare washed him thoroughly. Taken out and dried, he seemed no + more for a lady's chamber unmeet. + </p> + <p> + “Now,” said Clare, “will you please ask Miss Tempest if I may bring him on + to the lawn, and show her some of his tricks?” + </p> + <p> + The good lady was much pleased with the cleverness and instant obedience + of the little animal. Clare proposed that she should keep him by her. + </p> + <p> + “But will he stay with me? and will he do what <i>I</i> tell him?” she + asked. + </p> + <p> + Clare took the dog aside, and talked to him. He told him what he was going + to do, and what he expected of him. How much Abdiel understood, who can + tell! but when his master laid him down at Miss Tempest's feet, there he + lay; and when Clare went with the cook, he did not move, though he cast + many a wistful glance after the lord of his heart. When his new mistress + went into the house, he followed her submissively, his head hanging, and + his tail motionless. He soon recovered his cheerfulness, however, and + seemed to know that his friend had not abandoned him. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0055" id="link2HCH0055"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter LV. The wheel rests for a time. + </h2> + <p> + That part of the human race which is fond of dolls, may now imagine the + pleasure of the cook in going to the town in the omnibus to buy everything + for a live doll so big as Clare! In a very few days she had him dressed to + her heart's content, and the satisfaction of her mistress, who would not + have him in livery, but in a plain suit of dark blue cloth: for she loved + blue, all her men-people being, or having been in the navy. Thus dressed, + he looked as much of a gentleman as before: his look of refinement had + owed nothing to the contrast of his rags. Better clothes make not a few + seem commoner. + </p> + <p> + When Mrs. Mereweather came back from the town the first day, she found + that the ragged boy had got her kitchen and scullery as nice and clean, + and everything as ready to her hand, as if she had got her work done + before she went, which the omnibus would not permit. This rejoiced her + much; but being a woman of experience, she continued a little anxious lest + his sweet ways should go after his rags, lest his new garments should + breed bumptiousness and bad manners. For such a change is no unfrequent + result of prosperity. But such had been Mr. Porson's teaching and example, + such Mrs. Person's management, and such the responsiveness of the boy's + disposition, that the thought never came to him whether this or that was a + thing fit for him to do: if the thing was a right thing, and had to be + done, why should not he do it as well as another! To earn his own and + Abdiel's bread, he would do anything honest, setting up his back at + nothing. But when about a thing, he forgot even his obligation to do it, + in the glad endeavour to do it well. + </p> + <p> + As the days went on, Mrs. Mereweather was not once disappointed in him. He + did everything with such a will that both she and the housemaid were + always ready to spare and help him. Very soon they began to grow tender + over him; and on pretence of his being the earlier drest to open the door, + did certain things themselves which he had been quite content to do, but + which they did not like seeing him do. Many—I am afraid most boys + would have presumed on their generosity, but Clare was nowise injured by + it. + </p> + <p> + Nothing could be kinder than the way his mistress treated him. Having lent + him some books, and at once perceived that he was careful of them, she let + him have the run of her library when his day's work was over. For he not + only read but respected books. Nothing shows vulgarity more than the way + in which some people treat books. No gentleman would write his remarks on + the margins of another person's book; no lady would brush her hair as she + read one of her own. + </p> + <p> + From hungry days and cold nights, Clare and Abdiel found themselves <i>in + clover</i>—the phrase surely of some lover of cows!—and they + were more than content. Clare had longed so much for work, and had for so + many a weary day sought it in vain, that he valued it now just because it + was work. And he seemed to know instinctively that a man ranks, not + according to the thing he does, but according to the way he does it. In + life it is far higher to do an inferior thing well than to do a superior + thing passably. + </p> + <p> + Clare made good use of his privileges, and read much, educating himself + none the worse that he did it unconsciously. He read whatever came in his + way. He read really—not as most people read, leaving the sentences + behind them like so many unbroken nuts, the kernel of whose meaning they + have not seen. He learned more than most boys at school, more even than + most young men at college; for it is not what one knows, but what one + uses, that is the true measure of learning. Whatever he read, he read from + the point of practice. In history or romance he saw—not merely what + a man ought to be or do, but what he himself must, at that moment, be or + do. There is a very common sort of man calling himself practical, but + neglecting to practise the most important things, who would laugh at the + idea of Clare being practical, seeing he did not trouble his head about + money, or “getting on in the world”—what servants call “bettering + themselves;” but such a practical man will find he has been but a + practical fool. Clare took heed to do what was right, and grow a better + man. Such a life is the only really practical one. + </p> + <p> + People wondered how Miss Tempest had managed to get hold of such a + nice-looking page, and the good lady was flattered by their wonder. But + she knew the world too well to be sure of him yet. She knew that it is + difficult, in the human tree, to distinguish between blossom and fruit. + Deeds of lovely impulse are the blossom; unvarying, determined Tightness + is the fruit. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0056" id="link2HCH0056"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter LVI. Strategy. + </h2> + <p> + Miss Tempest was the last of an old family, with scarce a relation, and no + near one, in the world. Hence the pieces of personal property that had + continued in the possession of various branches of the family after land + and money, through fault or misfortune, were gone, had mostly drifted into + the small pool of Miss Tempest's life now slowly sinking in the sands of + time, there to gleam and sparkle out their tale of its old splendour. She + did not think often of their money-worth: had she done so, she would have + kept them at her banker's; but she valued them greatly both for their + beauty and their associations, constantly using as many of them as she + could. More than one of her friends had repeatedly tried to persuade her + that it was not prudent to have so much plate and so many jewels in the + house, for the fact was sure to be known where it was least desirable it + should: she always said she would think about it. At times she would for a + moment contemplate sending her valuables to the bank; but her next thought—by + no means an unwise one—would always be, “Of what use will they be at + the bank? I might as well not have them at all! Better sell them and do + some good with the money!—No; I must have them about me!” + </p> + <p> + There are predatory persons in every large town, who either know or are + learning to know the houses in it worth the risk of robbing. When it falls + to the lot of this or that house to be attempted, one of the gang will + make the acquaintance of some servant in it, with the object of + discovering beforehand where its treasure lies, and so reducing the time + to be spent in it, and the risk of frustration or capture. Often they + seduce one of the household to let them in, or hand out the things they + want. Any such gang, however, must soon have become convinced that at Miss + Tempest's corruption was impossible, and that they could avail themselves + solely of their own internal resources. + </p> + <p> + It was well now for Miss Tempest that she was so faithful herself as to + encourage faithfulness in others: gladly would she have had Abdiel sleep + in her room, but she would not take the pleasure of his company from his + old master and companion in suffering. The dog therefore slept on Clare's + bed, just as he did when the bed was as hard to define as to lie upon, + only now he had to take the part neither of blanket nor hot bottle. + </p> + <p> + One night, about half-past twelve, watchful even in slumber, he sprang up + in his lair at his master's feet, listened a moment, gave a low growl, + again listened, and gave another growl. Clare woke, and found his bed + trembling with the tremor of his little four-footed guardian. Telling him + to keep quiet, he rose on his elbow, and in his turn listened, but could + hear nothing. He thought then he would light his candle and go down, but + concluded it wiser to descend without a light, and listen under cloak of + the darkness. If he could but save Miss Tempest from a fright! He crept + out of bed, and went first to the window—a small one in the + narrowing of the gable-wall of his attic room: the night was warm, and, + loving the night air, he had it open. Hearkening there for a moment, he + thought he heard a slight movement below. Very softly he put out his head, + and looked down. There was no moon, but in the momentary flash of a + lantern he caught sight of a small pair of legs disappearing inside the + scullery window, which was almost under his own. Swift and noiseless he + hurried down, and reached the scullery door just in time for a little + fellow who came stealing out of it, to run against him. + </p> + <p> + Now Clare had heard the housemaid read enough from the newspapers to + guess, the moment he looked from the garret window, that the legs he saw + were those of a boy sent in to open a door or window, and when the boy, + feeling his way in the dark, came against him, he gripped him by the + throat with the squeeze that used to silence Tommy. The prowler knew the + squeeze. The moment Clare relaxed it, in a piping whisper came the words, + </p> + <p> + “Clare! Clare! they said they'd kill me if I didn't!” + </p> + <p> + “Didn't what?” + </p> + <p> + “Open the door to them.” + </p> + <p> + “If you utter one whimper, I'll throttle you,” said Clare. + </p> + <p> + He tightened his grasp for an instant, and Tommy, who had not forgotten + that what Clare said, he did, immediately gave in, and was led away. Clare + took him in his arms and carried him to his room, tied him hand and foot, + and left him on the floor, fast to the bedstead. Then he crept swiftly to + the servants' room, and with some difficulty waking them, told them what + he had done, and asked them to help him. + </p> + <p> + Both women of sense and courage, they undertook at once to do their part. + But when he proposed that they should open a window, as if it were done by + Tommy, and so enticing the burglars to enter, secure the first of them, + they, naturally enough, and wisely too, declined to encounter the risk. + </p> + <p> + The burglars, perplexed by the lack of any sign from Tommy yet the utter + quiet of the house, concluded probably that he had fallen somewhere, and + was lying either insensible, or unable to move and afraid to cry out—in + which case they would be at the mercy of what he might say when he was + found. + </p> + <p> + Those within could hear as little noise without. They went from door to + window, wherever an attempt might be made, but all was still. Then it + occurred to Clare that he had left the scullery window unwatched. He + hastened to it—and was but just in time: two long thin legs were + sticking through, and showed by their movements that considerable effort + was being made by the body that belonged to them, to enter after them. + Legs first was the wrong way, but the youth feared the unknown fate of + Tommy, and being pig-headed, would go that way or not at all. + </p> + <p> + A boy in courage equal to Clare, but of less coolness, would at once have + made war on the intrusive legs; but Clare bethought him that, so long as + that body filled the window, no other body could pass that way; so it + would be well to keep it there, a cork to the house, making it like the + nest of a trap-door-spider. He begged the women, therefore, who had + followed him, to lay hold each of an ankle, and stick to it like a clamp, + while he ran to get some string. + </p> + <p> + The women, entering heartily into the business, held on bravely. The owner + of the legs made vigorous efforts to release them, more anxious a good + deal to get out than he had been to get in, but he was not very strong, + and had no scope. His accomplices laid hold of him and pulled; then, with + good mother-wit, the women pulled away from each other, and so made of his + legs a wedge. + </p> + <p> + Clare came back with a piece of clothes-line, one end of which he slipped + with a running knot round one ankle, and the other in like fashion round + the other. Then he cut the line in halves, and drawing them over two hooks + in the ceiling, some distance apart, so that the legs continued widespread + like a V upside down, hauled the feet up as high as he could, and fastened + the ends of the lines. Hold lines and hooks, it was now impossible to draw + the fellow out. + </p> + <p> + Leaving the women to watch, and telling them to keep a hand on each of the + lines because the scullery was pitch-dark, he went next to his room and + looked again from the window. He feared they might be trying to get in at + some other place, for they would not readily abandon their accomplices, + and doubtless knew what a small household it was! He would see first, + therefore, what was doing outside the scullery, and then make a round of + doors and windows! + </p> + <p> + Right under him when he looked out, stood a short, burly figure; another + man was taking intermittent hauls at the arms of their leg-tied companion, + regardless of his stifled cries of pain when he did so. Clare went and + fetched his water-jug, which was half full, and leaning out once more, + with the jug upright in his two hands, moved it this way and that until he + had it, as nearly as he could determine, just over the man beneath him, + and then dropped it. The jug fell plumb, and might have killed the man but + that he bent his head at the moment, and received it between his + shoulders. It knocked the breath out of him, and he lay motionless. The + other man fled. The window-stopper, hearing the crash of the jug, wrenched + and kicked and struggled, but in vain. There he had to wait the sunrise, + for not a moment sooner would the cook open the door. + </p> + <p> + When they went out at last, the stout man too was gone. He had risen and + staggered into the shrubbery, and there fallen, but had risen once more + and got away. + </p> + <p> + Their captive pretended to be all but dead, thinking to move their pity + and be set free. But Clare went to the next house and got the man-servant + there to go for the police, begging him to make haste: he knew that his + tender-hearted mistress, if she came down before the police arrived, would + certainly let the fellow go, and Tommy with him; and he was determined the + law should have its way if he could compass it What hope was there for the + wretched Tommy if he was allowed to escape! And what right had they to let + such people loose on their neighbours! It was selfishness to indulge one's + own pity to the danger of others! He would be his brother's keeper by + holding on to his brother's enemy! + </p> + <p> + Going at last to his room, he found Tommy asleep. The boy was better + dressed, but no cleaner than when first he knew him. Clare proceeded to + wash and dress. Tommy woke, and lay staring, but did not utter a sound. + </p> + <p> + “Have your sleep out,” said Clare. “The police won't be here, I daresay, + for an hour yet.” + </p> + <p> + “I believe you!” returned Tommy, as impudent as ever. His contemplation of + Clare had revived his old contempt for him. “I mean to go. I 'ain't done + nothing.” + </p> + <p> + “Go, then,” said Clare, and took no more heed of him. + </p> + <p> + “If it's manners you want, Clare,” resumed Tommy, “<i>please</i> let me + go!” + </p> + <p> + Clare turned and looked at him. The evil expression was hardened on his + countenance. He gave him no answer. + </p> + <p> + “You ain't never agoin' to turn agin an old pal, aire you?” said Tommy. + </p> + <p> + “I ain't a pal of yours, Tommy, or of any other thief's!” answered Clare. + </p> + <p> + “I'll take my oath on it to the beak!” + </p> + <p> + “You'll soon have the chance; I've sent for the police.” Tommy changed his + tone. + </p> + <p> + “Please, Clare, let me go,” he whined. + </p> + <p> + “I will not. I did what I could for you before, and I'll do what I can for + you now. You must go with the police.” + </p> + <p> + Tommy began to blubber, or pretend—Clare could not tell which. + </p> + <p> + “This beastly string's a cuttin' into me!” he sobbed. + </p> + <p> + Clare examined it, and found it easy enough. + </p> + <p> + “I won't undo one knot,” he answered, “until there's a policeman in the + room. If you make a noise, I will stuff your mouth.” + </p> + <p> + His dread was that his mistress might hear, and spoil all. “It's her + house,” he said to himself, “but they're my captives!” + </p> + <p> + Tommy lay still, and the police came. + </p> + <p> + When they untied and drew out the cork of the scullery window, Clare + thought he had seen him before, but could not remember where. One of the + policemen, however, the moment his eyes fell on his face, cried out + joyfully, + </p> + <p> + “Ah, ha, my beauty! I've been a lookin' for you!” + </p> + <p> + “Never set eyes on ye afore,” growled the fellow. + </p> + <p> + “Don't ye say now ye ain't a dear friend o' mine,” insisted the policeman, + “when I carry yer pictur' in my bosom!” + </p> + <p> + He drew out a pocket-book, and from it a photograph, at which he gazed + with satisfaction, comparing it with the face before him. In another + moment Clare recognized the lad sent by Maidstone to exchange band-boxes + with him. + </p> + <p> + “Her majesty the queen wants you for that robbery, you know!” said the + policeman. + </p> + <p> + A boy who loved romance and generosity more than truth and righteousness, + would now have regretted the chance he had lost of doing a fine action, + and sought yet to set the rascal free. There are men who cheat and make + presents; there are men who are saints abroad and churls at home, as + Bunyan says; there are men who screw down the wages of their clerks and + leave vast sums to the poor; men who build churches with the proceeds of + drunkenness; men who promote bubble companies and have prayers in their + families morning and evening; men, in a word, who can be very generous + with what is not their own; for nothing ill-gotten is a man's own any more + than the money in a thief's pocket: Clare was not of the contemptible + order of the falsely generous. + </p> + <p> + Profiting, doubtless, by Maidstone's own example, the fellow had, as Clare + now learned, run away from his master, carrying with him the contents of + the till: whether he deserved punishment more than his master, may be left + undiscussed. + </p> + <p> + When first Miss Tempest's friends heard of the attempt to break into her + house, they said—what could she expect if she took tramps into her + service! They were consider-ably astonished, however, when they read in + the newspaper the terms in which the magistrate had spoken of the + admirable courage and contrivance of Miss Tempest's page, and the + resolution with which the women of her household had seconded him. If + every third house were as well defended, he said, the crime of burglary + would disappear. + </p> + <p> + After the trial, Clare begged and was granted an interview with the + magistrate. He told him what he knew about Tommy, and entreated he might + be sent to some reformatory, to be kept from bad company until he was able + to distinguish between right and wrong, which he thought he hardly could + at present The magistrate promised it should be done, and with kind words + dismissed him. + </p> + <p> + Things returned to their old way at Miss Tempest's. Her friends never + doubted she would now at last commit her plate to her banker's strong + room, but they found themselves mistaken: she was convinced that, with + such servants and Abdiel, it was safe where it was. + </p> + <p> + The leader of the gang, injured by Clare's water-jug, was soon after + captured, and the gang was broken up. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0057" id="link2HCH0057"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter LVII. Ann Shotover. + </h2> + <p> + So void of self-assertion was Clare, so prompt at the call of whoever + needed him, so quiet yet so quick, so silent in his sympathetic + ministrations, so studious and so capable, that, after two years, Miss + Tempest began to feel she ought to do what she could to “advance his + prospects,” even at the loss to herself of his services. + </p> + <p> + He never came to regard Miss Tempest as he did the other women who had + saved him: he never thought of her as his fourth mother. Truly good and + kind she was, but she had a certain manner which prevented him from + feeling entirely comfortable with her. It did not escape him, however, + that Abdiel was thoroughly at his ease in her company; and he believed + therefore that the dog knew her better, or at least was more just to her, + than he. + </p> + <p> + The fact was Miss Tempest kept down all her feelings, with a vague sense + that to show them would be to waste her substance: it was the one shape + that the yet lingering selfishness of a very unselfish person took. Thus + she kept him at a distance, and he stayed at a distance, she on her part + wondering that he did not open out to her more, but neither doubting that + all was right between them. Nothing, indeed, was wrong—only they + might have come a little nearer. Perhaps, also, Miss Tempest was a little + too conscious of being his patroness, his earthly saviour. + </p> + <p> + It was natural that, after the defeated robbery, Clare should become a + little known to the friends of the mistress he had so well served; when, + therefore, Miss Tempest spoke to her banker concerning the ability of her + page, mentioning that, in his spare time, he had been reading hard, as + well as attending an evening-school for mathematics, where he gained much + approbation from his master, she spoke of one already known by him to one + accustomed to regard character. + </p> + <p> + The banker listened with a solemn listening from which she could not tell + what he was thinking. No one ever could tell what Mr. Shotover was + thinking: his face was not half a face; it was more a mask than a face. + High in the world's regard, rich, and of unquestioned integrity, he was + believed to have gathered a large fortune; but he kept his affairs to + himself. That he liked his own way so much as never to yield it, I give up + to the admiration of such as himself: often kind—when the required + mode of the kindness pleased him, a constant church-goer and giver of + money, always saying less the more he made up his mind, he had generally + no trouble in getting it. + </p> + <p> + Priding himself on his moral discrimination, he had, now and then, as + suited his need, taken from a lower position a young man he thought would + serve his purpose, and modelled him to it. He had had his eye on Clare + ever since reading the magistrate's eulogy of his contrivance and courage; + but when Miss Tempest spoke, he had not made up his mind about him, for + something in the boy repelled him. He had scarcely troubled himself to ask + what it was, nor do I believe he could have discovered, for the root of + the repulsion lay in himself. + </p> + <p> + Moved in part, however, by the representations of Miss Tempest, in part + also, I think, by a desire to discover that the boy was a hypocrite, Mr. + Shotover consented to give him a trial, whereupon Miss Tempest made haste + to disclose to her <i>protegé</i> the grand thing she had done for him. + </p> + <p> + She was disappointed at the coolness and lack of interest with which Clare + heard her great news. She could not but be gratified that he did not want + to leave her, but she was annoyed that he seemed unaware of any advantage + to be gained in doing so—high as the social ascent from servitude to + clerkship would by most be considered. But Clare's horizon was not that of + the world. He had no inclination to more of figures and less of persons. + Miss Tempest, however, insisting that she knew what was best for him, and + what it was therefore his duty to do, he listened in respectful silence to + all she had to say. But what she counted her most powerful argument—that + he owed it to himself to rise in the world—did not even touch him, + did not move the slightest response in a mind nobly devoid of ambition. + Her argument was in truth nonsense; for a man owes himself nothing, owes + God everything, and owes his neighbour whatever his own conscience goes on + to require of him for his neighbour. Feeling at the same time, however, + that she had a huge claim on his compliance with her wishes, Clare + consented to leave her kitchen for her friend's bank, where he had of + course to take the lowest position, one counted by the rest of the clerks, + especially the one just out of it, <i>menial</i>, requiring him to be in + the bank earlier by half an hour than the others, to be the last to go + away at night, and to sleep in the house—where a not uncomfortable + room in the attic story was appointed him. + </p> + <p> + Mr. Shotover himself lived above the bank—with his family, + consisting of his wife and two daughters. Mrs. Shotover suffered from a + terrible disease—that of thinking herself ill when nothing was the + matter with her except her paramount interest in herself—the source + of at least half the incurable disease among idle people. The elder + daughter was a high-spirited girl about twenty, with a frank, friendly + manner, indicating what God meant her to be, not what she was, or had yet + chosen to be. She was not really frank, and seemed far more friendly than + she was, being more selfish than she knew, and far more selfish than she + seemed: she was merry, and that goes a great way in seeming. Her mother + spent no regard upon her; her heart was too full of herself to have in it + room for a grown-up daughter as well, with interests of her own. The + younger was a child about six, of whom the mother took not so much care by + half as a tigress of her cub. + </p> + <p> + One morning, a little before eight o'clock, as Clare was coming down from + his room to open the windows of the bank, he just saved himself from + tumbling over something on the attic stair, which was dark, and at that + point took rather a sharp turn. The something was a child, who gave a low + cry, and started up to run away: there was not light enough for either to + discern easily what the other was like. But Clare, to whom childhood was + the strongest attraction he yet knew, bent down his face from where he + stood on the step above her, and its moonlight glow of love and faith + shone clear in the eyes of the little girl. The moment she saw his smile, + she knew the soul that was the light of the smile, and her doll dropped + from her hands as she raised them to lay her arms gently about his neck. + </p> + <p> + “Oh!” she said, “you're come!” + </p> + <p> + He saw now, in the dusk, a pale, ordinary little face, with rather large + gray eyes, a rather characterless, tiny, up-turned nose, and a rather + pretty mouth. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, little one. Were you expecting me?” he returned, with his arms about + her. + </p> + <p> + “Yes,” she answered, in the tone of one stating what the other must know. + </p> + <p> + “How was it I frightened you, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Only at first I thought you was an ogre! That was before I saw you. Then + I knew!” + </p> + <p> + “Who told you I was coming?” + </p> + <p> + “Nobody. Nobody knew you was coming but me. I've known it—oh, for + such a time!—ever since I was born, I think!” + </p> + <p> + She turned her head a little and looked down where the doll lay a step or + two below. + </p> + <p> + “You can go now, dolly,” she said. “I don't want you any more.” Here she + paused a while, as if listening to a reply, then went on: “I am much + obliged to you, dolly; but what am I to do with you? You won't never + speak! It has made me quite sad many a time, you know very well! But you + can't help it! So go away, please, and be nobody, for you never would be + anybody! I did my best to get you to be somebody, but you wouldn't! Thank + you all the same! I will take you and put you where you can be as dull as + you please, and nobody will mind.”—Here she left Clare, went down, + and lifted her plaything.—“Dolly, dolly,” she resumed, “he's come! I + knew he would! And you don't know it because you're nobody!” + </p> + <p> + Without looking back, or a word of adieu to Clare, she went slowly down + the steps, one by one, with the doll in her arms, manifesting for it + neither contempt nor tenderness. Many a child would have carried the + discrowned favourite by one leg; she carried her in both hands. + </p> + <p> + Clare waited a while on the narrow, closed-in, wooden stair, not a little + wondering, and full of thought. His wonder, however, had no puzzlement in + it. The child's behaviour involved no difficulty. The two existences came + together, and each understood the other in virtue of its essential nature. + In after years Clare could put the thing into such words; he sought none + at the time. The child was lonely. She had done her best with her doll, + but it had failed her. It was not companionable. The moment she looked in + Clare's face, she knew that he loved her, and that she had been waiting + for <i>him</i>! She was not surprised to see him; how should it be + otherwise than just so! He was come: good bye, dolly! The child had + imagination—next to conscience the strongest ally of common sense. + She knew, like St. Paul, that an idol is nothing. As men and women grow in + imagination and common sense, more and more will sacred silly dolls be + cast to the moles and the bats. But pretty Fancy and limping Logic are + powerful usurpers in commonplace minds. + </p> + <p> + Clare saw nothing more of her that day, neither tried to see her; but he + did his work in an atmosphere of roses. The work was not nearly so + interesting as house-work, but Clare was an honest gentleman, therefore + did it well: that it was not interesting was of no account; it was his + work! But to know that a child was in the house, not merely a child for + him to love, but a child that already loved him so that he could be her + servant indeed, changed the stupid bank almost into the dome of the + angels. + </p> + <p> + His fellow clerks took little notice of him beyond what, in the routine of + the day, was unavoidable. He had been a page-boy: the less they did with + him the better! Were they not wronged by his introduction into their + company? The poorest creature of them believed he would have served out + the burglars better if the chance had been his. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0058" id="link2HCH0058"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter LVIII. Child-talk. + </h2> + <p> + As Clare came down the next morning but one, there was the child again on + the dark narrow stair. She had no doll. Her hands lay folded in her lap. + She sat on the same step, the very image of child-patience. As he + approached she did not move. I believe she held solemn revel of + expectation. He laid his hand on the whitey-brown hair smoothed flat on + her head with a brush dipped in water. Not much dressing was wasted on Ann—common + little name! + </p> + <p> + She rose, turned to him, and again laid her arms about his neck. No kiss + followed: she had not been taught to kiss. + </p> + <p> + “Where's dolly?” asked Clare. + </p> + <p> + “Nowhere. Buried,” answered the child. + </p> + <p> + “Where did you bury her? In the garden?” + </p> + <p> + “No. The garden wouldn't be nowhere!” + </p> + <p> + “Where, then?” + </p> + <p> + “Nowhere. I threw her out of the window.” + </p> + <p> + “Into the street?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes. She did fell on a horse's back, and he jumped. I was sorry.” + </p> + <p> + “It didn't hurt him. I hope it didn't hurt dolly!” + </p> + <p> + The moment he said it, Clare's heart reproached him: he was not talking + true! he was not talking out of his real heart to the child! Almost with + indignation she answered:— + </p> + <p> + “<i>Things</i> don't be hurt! Dolly was a thing! She's <i>no</i> thing + now!” + </p> + <p> + “Why?” + </p> + <p> + “Because she fell under the horse, and was seen no more.” + </p> + <p> + “Is she old enough,” thought Clare, “to read the Pilgrim's Progress?” + </p> + <p> + “Will you tell me, please,” he said, “<i>when</i> a thing is only a + thing?” + </p> + <p> + “When it won't mind what you do or say to it.” + </p> + <p> + “And when is a thing no thing any more?” + </p> + <p> + “When you never think of it again.” + </p> + <p> + “Is a fly a thing?” + </p> + <p> + “I <i>could</i> make a fly mind, only it would hurt it!” + </p> + <p> + “Of course we wouldn't do that!” + </p> + <p> + “No; we don't want to make a fly mind. It's not one of our creatures.” + </p> + <p> + Clare thought that was far enough in metaphysics for one morning. + </p> + <p> + “I waited for you yesterday,” he said, “but you didn't come!” + </p> + <p> + “Dolly didn't like to be buried. I mean, I didn't like burying dolly. I + cried and wouldn't come.” + </p> + <p> + “Then why did you bury dolly?” + </p> + <p> + “She <i>had</i> to be buried. I told you she couldn't <i>be</i> anybody! + So I <i>made</i> her be buried.” + </p> + <p> + “I see! I quite understand.—But what have you to amuse yourself with + now?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't want to be mused now. You's come! I'm growed up!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, of course!” answered Clare; but he was puzzled what to say next. + </p> + <p> + What could he do for her? Glad would he have been to take her down to the + sea, or to the docks, or into the country somewhere, till dinner-time, and + then after dinner take her out again! But there was his work—ugly, + stupid work that had to be done, as dolly <i>had</i> to be buried! Alas + for the child who has discarded her toys, and is suddenly growed up! What + is she to do with herself? Clare's coming had caused the loss of Ann's + former interests: he felt bound to make up to her for that loss. But how? + It was a serious question, and not being his own master, he could not in a + moment answer it. + </p> + <p> + “I wish I could stay with you all day!” he said. “But your papa wants me + in the bank. I must go.” + </p> + <p> + Clare had not had a good sight of the child, and was at a loss to think + what must be her age. Her language, both in form and utterance, was partly + precise and <i>grown-up</i>, and partly childish; but her wisdom was + child-like—and that is the opposite both of precise and childish. It + was the wisdom that comes of unity between thought and action. + </p> + <p> + “Is there anything I can do for you before I go—for I must go?” said + Clare. + </p> + <p> + “Who says <i>must</i> to you? Nurse says <i>must</i> to me.” + </p> + <p> + “Your papa says <i>must</i> to me.” + </p> + <p> + “If you didn't say <i>yes</i> when papa said <i>must</i>, what would come + next?” + </p> + <p> + “He would say, 'Go out of my house, and never come in again.'” + </p> + <p> + “And would you do it?” + </p> + <p> + “I must: the house is his, not mine.” + </p> + <p> + “If I didn't say <i>yes</i> when papa said <i>must</i>, what would + happen?” + </p> + <p> + “He would try to make you say it.” + </p> + <p> + “And if I wouldn't, would he say, 'Go out of my house and never come in + again'?” + </p> + <p> + “No; you are his little girl!” + </p> + <p> + “Then I think he shouldn't say it to you.—What is your name?” + </p> + <p> + “Clare.” + </p> + <p> + “Then, Clare, if my papa sends you out of his house, I will go with you.—You + wouldn't turn me out, would you, when I was a <i>little</i> naughty?” + </p> + <p> + “No; neither would your papa.” + </p> + <p> + “If he turned you out, it would be all the same. Where you go, I will go. + I must, you know! Would you mind if he said 'Go away'?” + </p> + <p> + “I should be very sorry to leave you.” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but that's not going to be! Why do you stay with papa? Were you in + the house always—ever so long before I saw you?” + </p> + <p> + “No; a very little while only.” + </p> + <p> + “Did you come in from the street?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes; I came in from the street. Your papa pays me to work for him.” + </p> + <p> + “And if you wouldn't?” + </p> + <p> + “Then I should have no money, and nothing to eat, and nowhere to sleep at + night.” + </p> + <p> + “Would that make you uncomfable?” + </p> + <p> + “It would make me die.” + </p> + <p> + “Have you a papa?” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, but he's far away.” + </p> + <p> + “You could go to him, couldn't you?” + </p> + <p> + “One day I shall.” + </p> + <p> + “Why don't you go now, and take me?” + </p> + <p> + “Because he died.” + </p> + <p> + “What's <i>died</i>?” + </p> + <p> + “Went away out of sight, where we can't go to look for him till we go out + of sight too.” + </p> + <p> + “When will that be?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know.” + </p> + <p> + “Does anybody know?” + </p> + <p> + “Nobody.” + </p> + <p> + “Then perhaps you will never go?” + </p> + <p> + “We must go; it's only that nobody knows when.” + </p> + <p> + “I think the when that nobody knows, mayn't never come.—Is that why + you have to work?” + </p> + <p> + “Everybody has to work one way or another.” + </p> + <p> + “I haven't to work!” + </p> + <p> + “If you don't work when you're old enough, you'll be miserable.” + </p> + <p> + “<i>You're</i> not old enough.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, indeed I am! I've been working a long time now.” + </p> + <p> + “Where? Not for papa?” + </p> + <p> + “No; not for papa.” + </p> + <p> + “Why not? Why didn't you come sooner? Why didn't you come <i>much</i> + sooner—<i>ever</i> so much sooner? Why did you make me wait for you + all the time?” + </p> + <p> + “Nobody ever told me you were waiting.” + </p> + <p> + “Nobody ever told me you were coming, but I knew.” + </p> + <p> + “You had to wait for me, and you knew. I had to wait for you, and I didn't + know! When we have time, I will tell you all about myself, and how I've + been waiting too.” + </p> + <p> + “Waiting for me?” + </p> + <p> + “No.” + </p> + <p> + “Who for?” + </p> + <p> + “For my father and mother—and somebody else, I think.” + </p> + <p> + “That's me.” + </p> + <p> + “No; I'm waiting yet. I didn't know I was coming to you till I came, and + there you were!” + </p> + <p> + The child was silent for a moment. Then she said thoughtfully, + </p> + <p> + “You will tell me <i>all</i> about yourself! That <i>will</i> be nice!—Can + you tell stories?” she added. “—Of course you can! You can do <i>every</i>thing!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, I can't!” + </p> + <p> + “Can't you?” + </p> + <p> + “No; I can do <i>some</i> things—not many. I can love you, little + one!—Now I must go, or I shall be late, and nobody ever ought to be + late.” + </p> + <p> + “Go then. I will go to my nursery and wait again.” + </p> + <p> + She went down the stair without once looking behind her. Clare followed. + On the next floor she went one way to her nursery, and he another to the + back-stairs. + </p> + <p> + One of the causes and signs of Clare's manliness was, that he never aimed + at being a man. Many men continue childish because they are always trying + to act like men, instead of simply trying to do right. Such never develop + true manliness, Clare's manhood stole upon him unawares. That which at + once made him a man and kept him a child, was, that he had no regard for + anything but what was real, that is, true. + </p> + <p> + All the day the thought kept coming, what could he do for the little girl + Perhaps what stirred his feeling for her most, was a suspicion that she + was neglected. But the careless treatment of a nurse was better for her + than would have been the capricious blandishments and neglects of a mother + like Mrs. Shotover. Clare, however, knew nothing yet about Ann's mother. + He knew only, by the solemnly still ways of the child, that she must be + much left to her own resources, and was wonderfully developed in + consequence—whether healthily or not, he could not yet tell. The + practical question was—how to contrive to be her occasional + companion; how to offer to serve her. + </p> + <p> + After much thinking, he concluded that he must wait: opportunity might + suggest mode; and he would rather find than make opportunity! + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0059" id="link2HCH0059"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter LIX. Lovers' walks. + </h2> + <p> + He had not long to wait. That very afternoon, going a message for the + head-clerk, he met Ann walking with a young lady—who must be Miss + Shotover. Neither sister seemed happy with the other. Ann was very white, + and so tired that she could but drag her little feet after her. Miss + Shotover, flushed with exertion, and annoyed with her part of nursemaid, + held her tight and hauled her along by the hand. She looked good-natured, + but not one of the ministering sort. Every now and then she would give the + little arm a pull, and say, though not <i>very</i> crossly, “Do come + along!” The child did not cry, but it was plain she suffered. It was plain + also she was doing her best to get home, and avoid rousing her sister's + tug. + </p> + <p> + Keen-sighted, Clare had recognized Ann at some distance, and as he + approached had a better opportunity than on the dark stair of seeing what + his little friend was like. He saw that her eyes were unusually clear, + and, paces away, could distinguish the blue veins on her forehead: she + looked even more delicate than he had thought her. The lines of her mouth + were straightened out with the painful effort she had to make to keep up + with her sister. Her nose continued insignificant, waiting to learn what + was expected of it. + </p> + <p> + For Miss Shotover, there was not a good feature in her face, and even to a + casual glance it might have suggested a measure of meanness. But a bright + complexion, and the youthful charm which vanishes with youth, are pleasant + in their season. Her figure was lithe, and in general she had a look of + fun; but at the moment heat and impatience clouded her countenance. + </p> + <p> + Clare stopped and lifted his hat. Then first the dazed child saw him, for + she was short-sighted, and her observation was dulled by weariness. She + said not a word, uttered no sound, only drew her hand from her sister's, + and held up her arms to her friend—in dumb prayer to be lifted above + the thorns of life, and borne along without pain. He caught her up. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon, ma'am,” he said, “but the little one and I have met + before:—I live in the house, having the honour to be the youngest of + your father's clerks. If you will allow me, I will carry the child. She + looks tired!” + </p> + <p> + Miss Shotover was glad enough to be relieved of her clog, and gave smiling + consent. + </p> + <p> + “If you would be so kind as to carry her home,” she said, “I should be + able to do a little shopping!” + </p> + <p> + “You will not mind my taking her a little farther first, ma'am? I am on a + message for Mr. Woolrige. I will carry her all the way, and be very + careful of her.” + </p> + <p> + Miss Shotover was not one to cherish anxiety. She already knew Clare both + by report and by sight, and willingly yielded. Saying, with one of her + pleasant smiles, that she would hold him accountable for her, she sailed + away, like a sloop that had been dragging her anchor, but had now cut her + cable. Clare thought what a sweet-looking girl she was—and in truth + she was sweet-<i>looking</i>. Then, all his heart turned to the little one + in his arms. + </p> + <p> + What a walk was that for both of them! Little Ann seemed never to have + lived before: she was actually happy! She had been long waiting for Clare, + and he was come—and such as she had expected him! It was bliss to + glide thus along the busy street without the least exertion, looking down + on the heads of the people, safe above danger and fear amid swift-moving + things and the crowding confusions of life! To be in Clare's arms was + better than being in the little house on the elephant's back in her best + picture-book! True, little one! To be in the arms of love, be they ever so + weak, is better than to ride the grandest horse in all the stables of God—and + God would have you know it! Never mind your pale little face and your puny + nose! While your heart is ready to die for love-sake, you are blessed + among women! Only remember that to die of disappointment is not to die + either of or for love! + </p> + <p> + And to Clare, after all those days upon days during which only a dog would + come to his arms, what a glory of life it was to have a human child in + them, the little heart of the pale face beating against his side! He was + not going to forget Abdiel. Abdiel was not a fact to be forgotten. Abdiel + was not a doll, Abdiel was not a thing that would not come alive. Abdiel + was a true heart, a live soul, and Clare would love him for ever!—not + an atom the less that now he had one out upon whom a larger love was able + to flow! All true love makes abler to love. It is only false love, the + love of those who take their own meanest selfishness, their own pleasure + in being loved, for love, that shrinks and narrows the soul. + </p> + <p> + To the pale-faced, listening child, Clare talked much about the wonderful + Abdiel, and about the kind good Miss Tempest who was keeping him to live + again at length with his old master; and Ann loved the dog she had never + seen, because the dog loved the Clare who was come at last. + </p> + <p> + When they returned, Clare rang the house-bell, and gave up his charge to + the man who opened the door. Without word or tone, gesture or look of + objection, or even of disinclination, the child submitted to be taken from + Clare's loving embrace, and carried to a nurse who was neither glad nor + sorry to see her. + </p> + <p> + He had been so long gone that Mr. Woolrige found fault with him for it. + Clare told him he had met Miss Shotover with her sister, and the child + seemed so tired he had asked leave to carry her with him, Mr. Woolrige was + not pleased, but he said nothing; on the spot the clerks nicknamed him <i>Nursie</i>; + and Clare did his best to justify the appellation-he never lost a chance + of acting up to it, and always answered when they summoned him by it. + </p> + <p> + Before the week was ended, he sought an interview with Miss Shotover, and + asked her whether he might not take little Ann out for a walk whenever the + evening was fine. For at five o'clock the doors of the bank were shut, and + in half an hour after he was free. Miss Shotover said she saw no + objection, and would tell the nurse to have her ready as often as the + weather was fit; whereupon Clare left her with a gratitude far beyond any + degree of that emotion by her conceivable. The nurse, on her part, was + willing to gratify Clare, and not sorry to be rid of the child, who was + not one, indeed, to interest any ordinary woman. + </p> + <p> + The summer came and was peculiarly fine, and almost every evening Clare + might be seen taking his pleasure—neither like bank-clerk nor like + nurse-maid, for always he had little Ann in his arms, or was leading her + along with care and entire attention: he never let her walk except on + entreaty, and not always then. To his fellow clerks this proof of an utter + lack of dignity seemed consistent with his origin—of which they knew + nothing; they knew only his late position. To themselves they were fine + gentlemen with cigars in their mouths, and he was a lackey to the bone! To + himself Clare was the lover of a child; and about them he did not think. + Theirs was the life of a town; Clare's was a life of the universe. + </p> + <p> + The pair came speedily to understand and communicate like twin brother and + sister. Clare, as he carried her, always knew when Ann wanted a change of + position; Ann always knew when Clare began to grow weary—knew before + Clare himself—and would insist on walking. Neither could remember + how it came, but it grew a custom that, when they walked hand in hand, + Clare told her stories of his life and adventures; when he carried her, he + told her fairy-tales, which he could spin like a spider: she preferred the + former. + </p> + <p> + So neither bank nor nursery was any longer dreary. + </p> + <p> + At length came the gray, brooding winter, causing red fingers and aches + and chilblains. But it was not unfriendly to little Ann. True, she was not + permitted to go out in the evening any more, but Clare, with the help of + the cook, devoted to her his dinner-hour instead. It was no hardship to + eat from a basket in place of a table, to one who never troubled himself + as to the kind, quality, or quantity of his food itself. He had learned, + like a good soldier, to endure hardness. I have heard him say that never + did he enjoy a dinner more than when, in those homeless days of his + boyhood, he tore the flakes off a loaf fresh from the baker's oven, and + ate them as he walked along the street. The old highlanders of Scotland + were trained to think it the part of a gentleman not to mind what he ate—sign + of scant civilization, no doubt, in the eyes of some who now occupy but do + not fill their place—as time will show, when the call is for men to + fight, not to eat. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0060" id="link2HCH0060"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter LX. The shoe-black. + </h2> + <p> + The head-clerk, while he had not a word against him, as he confessed to + Mr. Shotover, yet thought Clare would never make a man of business. When + pressed to say on what he grounded the opinion, he could only answer that + the lad did not seem to have his heart in it. But if, to be a man of + business, it is not enough to do one's duty scrupulously, but the very + heart must be in it, then is there something wrong with business. The + heart fares as its treasure: who would be content his heart should fare as + not a few sorts of treasure must? Mr. Woolrige passed no such judgment, + however, upon certain older young men in the bank, whose hearts certainly + were not in the business, but even worse posited. + </p> + <p> + One cold, miserable day, at once damp and frosty, on which it was quite + unfit to take Ann out, Clare, having eaten a hasty dinner, and followed it + with a walk, was returning through the town in good time for the + recommencement of business, when he came upon a little boy, at the corner + of a street, blowing his fingers, and stumping up and down the pavement to + keep his blood moving while he waited for a job: his brushes lay on the + top of his blacking-box on the curbstone. Clare saw that he was both + hungry and cold—states of sensation with which he was far too + familiar to look on the signs of them with indifference. To give him + something to do, and so something to eat, he went to his block and put his + foot on it. The boy bustled up, snatched at his brushes, and began + operations. But, whether from the coldness or incapacity of his hands, + Clare soon saw that his boots would not be polished that afternoon. + </p> + <p> + “You don't seem quite up to your business, my boy!” he said. “What's the + matter?” + </p> + <p> + The boy made no answer, but went on with his vain attempt. A moment more, + and Clare saw a tear fall on the boot he was at work upon. + </p> + <p> + “This won't do!” said Clare. “Let me look at <i>your</i> boots.” + </p> + <p> + The boy stood up, wiping his eyes with the back of his hand. + </p> + <p> + “Ah!” said Clare, “I don't wonder you can't polish my boots, when you + don't care to polish your own!” + </p> + <p> + “Please, sir,” answered the boy, “it's Jim as does it! He's down wi' the + measles, an' I ain't up to it.” + </p> + <p> + “Look here, then! I'll give you a lesson,” said Clare. “Many's the boot + I've blacked. Up with your foot! I'll soon show you how the thing's done!” + </p> + <p> + “Please, sir,” objected the boy, “there ain't enough boot left to take a + polish!” + </p> + <p> + “We'll see about that!” returned Clare. “Put it up. I've worn worse in my + time.” + </p> + <p> + The boy obeyed. The boot was very bad, but there was enough leather to + carry some blacking, and the skin took the rest. + </p> + <p> + Clare was working away, growing pleasantly hot with the quick, sharp + motion, while two of his fellow clerks were strolling up on the other side + of the corner, who had been having more with their lunch than was good for + them. Swinging round, they came upon a well dressed youth brushing a + ragged boy's boots. It was an odd sight, and one of them, whose name was + Marway, thought to get some fun out of the phenomenon. + </p> + <p> + “Here!” he cried, “I want my boots brushed.” + </p> + <p> + Clare rose to his feet, saying, + </p> + <p> + “Brush the gentleman's boots. I will finish yours after, and then you + shall finish mine.” + </p> + <p> + “Hullo, Nursie! it's you turned boot-black, is it?—Nice thing for + the office, Jack!” remarked Marway, who was the finest gentleman, and the + lowest blackguard among the clerks. + </p> + <p> + He put his foot on the block. The boy began his task, but did no better + with his boots than he had done with Clare's. + </p> + <p> + “Soul of an ass!” cried Marway, “are you going to keep my foot there till + it freezes to the block? Why don't you do as Nursie tells you? <i>He</i> + knows how to brush a boot! <i>You</i> ain't worth your salt! You ain't fit + to black a donkey's hoofs!” + </p> + <p> + “Give me the brushes, my boy,” said Clare. + </p> + <p> + The boy rose abashed, and obeyed. After a few of Clare's light rapid + strokes, the boots looked very different. + </p> + <p> + “Bravo, Nursie!” cried Marway. “There ain't a flunkey of you all could do + it better!” + </p> + <p> + Clare said nothing, finished the job, and stood up. Marway, turning on the + other heel as he set his foot down, said, “Thank you, Nursie!” and was + walking off. + </p> + <p> + “Please, Mr. Marway, give the boy his penny,” said Clare. + </p> + <p> + But Marway wanted to <i>take a rise out of</i> Clare. + </p> + <p> + “The fool did nothing for me!” he answered. “He made my boot worse than it + was.” + </p> + <p> + “It was I did nothing for you, Mr. Marway,” rejoined Clare. “What I did, I + did for the boy.” + </p> + <p> + “Then let the boy pay you!” said Marway. + </p> + <p> + The shoe-black went into a sudden rage, caught up one of his brushes, and + flung it at Marway as he turned. It struck him on the side of the head. + Marway swore, stalked up to Clare and knocked him down, then strode away + with a grin. + </p> + <p> + The shoe-black sent his second brush whizzing past his ear, but he took no + notice. Clare got up, little the worse, only bruised. + </p> + <p> + “See what comes of doing things in a passion!” he said, as the boy came + back with the brushes he had hastened to secure. “Here's your penny! Put + up your foot.” + </p> + <p> + The boy did as he was told, but kept foaming out rage at the bloke that + had refused him his penny, and knocked down his friend. It did not occur + to him that he was himself the cause of the outrage, and that his friend + had suffered for him. Clare's head ached a good deal, but he polished the + boy's boots. Then he made him try again on his boots, when, warmed by his + rage, he did a little better. Clare gave him another penny, and went to + the bank. + </p> + <p> + Marway was not there, nor did he show himself for a day or two. Clare said + nothing about what had taken place, neither did the others. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0061" id="link2HCH0061"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter LXI. A walk with consequences. + </h2> + <p> + Clare had been in the bank more than a year, and not yet had Mr. Shotover + discovered why he did not quite trust him. Had Clare known he did not, he + would have wondered that he trusted him with such a precious thing as his + little Ann. But was his child very precious to Mr. Shotover? When a man's + heart is in his business, that is, when he is set on making money, some + precious things are not so precious to him as they might be—among + the rest, the living God and the man's own life. He would pass Clare and + the child without even a nod to indicate approval, or a smile for the + small woman. He had, I presume, sufficient regard for the inoffensive + little thing to be content she should be happy, therefore did not + interfere with what his clerks counted so little to the honour of the + bank. But although, as I have said, he still doubted Clare, true eyes in + whatever head must have perceived that the child was in charge of an + angel. The countenance of Clare with Ann in his arms, was so peaceful, so + radiant of simple satisfaction, that surely there were some in that large + town who, seeing them, thought of the angels that do alway behold the face + of the Father in heaven. + </p> + <p> + One evening in the early summer, when they had resumed their walks after + five o'clock, they saw, in a waste place, where houses had been going to + be built for the last two years, a number of caravans drawn up in order. + </p> + <p> + A rush of hope filled the heart of Clare: what if it should be the + menagerie he knew so well! And, sure enough, there was Mr. Halliwell + superintending operations! But if Glum Gunn were about, he might find it + awkward with the child in his arms! Gunn might not respect even her! + Besides he ought to ask leave to take her! He would carry her home first, + and come again to see his third mother and all his old friends, with Pummy + and the lion and the rest of the creatures. + </p> + <p> + Little Ann was eager to know what those curious houses on wheels were. + Clare told her they were like her Noah's ark, full of beasts, only real, + live beasts, not beasts made of bits of stick. She became at once eager to + see them—the more eager that her contempt of things like life that + wouldn't come alive had been growing stronger ever since she threw her + doll out of the window. Clare told her he could not take her without first + asking leave. This puzzled her: Clare was her highest authority. + </p> + <p> + “But if <i>you</i> take me?” she said. + </p> + <p> + “Your papa and mamma might not like me to take you.” + </p> + <p> + “But I'm yours!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, you're mine—but not so much,” he added with a sigh, “as + theirs!” + </p> + <p> + “Ain't I?” she rejoined, in a tone of protesting astonishment mingled with + grief, and began to wriggle, wanting to get down. + </p> + <p> + Clare set her down, and would have held her, as usual, by the hand, but + she would not let him. She stood with her eyes on the ground, and her + little gray face looking like stone. It frightened Clare, and he remained + a moment silent, reviewing the situation. + </p> + <p> + “You see, little one,” he said at length, “you were theirs before I came! + You were sent to them. You are their own little girl, and we must mind + what they would like!” + </p> + <p> + “It was only till you came!” she argued. “They don't care <i>very</i> much + for me. Ask them, please, to sell me to you. I don't think they would want + much money for me! How many shillings do you think I am worth, Clare? Not + many, I hope!—Six?” + </p> + <p> + “You are worth more than all the money in your papa's bank,” answered + Clare, looking down at her lovingly. + </p> + <p> + The child's face fell. + </p> + <p> + “Am I?” she said. “I'm so sorry! I didn't know I was worth so much!—and + not yours!” she added, with a sigh that seemed to come from the very heart + of her being. “Then you're not able to buy me?” + </p> + <p> + “No, indeed, little one!” answered Clare. “Besides, papas don't sell their + little girls!” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, yes, they do! Gus said so to Trudie!” Clare knew that <i>Trudie</i> + meant her sister Gertrude. + </p> + <p> + “Who is Gus?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “Trudie calls him Gus. I don't know more name to him. Perhaps they call + him something else in the bank.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh! he's in the bank, is he?” returned Clare. “Then I think I know him.” + </p> + <p> + “He said it to her one night in my nursery. Jane went down; I was in my + crib. They talked such a long time! I tried to go to sleep, but I + couldn't. I heard all what he said to her. It wasn't half so nice as what + you talk to me!” + </p> + <p> + This was not pleasant news to Clare. Augustus Marway was, if half the + tales of him were true, no fit person for his master's daughter to be + intimate with! He had once heard Mr. Shotover speak about gambling in such + terms of disapprobation as he had never heard him use about anything else; + and it was well known in the bank that Marway was in the company of + gamblers almost every night. He was so troubled, that at first he wished + the child had not told him. For what was he to do? Could it be right to + let the thing go on? Clare felt sure Mr. Shotover either did not know that + Marway gambled, or did not know that he talked in the nursery with his + daughter. But, alas, he could do nothing without telling, and they all + said none but the lowest of cads would carry tales! For the young men + thought it the part of gentlemen <i>to stick by each other</i>, and hide + from Mr. Shotover some things he had a right to know. But Clare saw that, + whatever they might think, he must act in the matter. Little Ann wondered + that he scarcely spoke to her all the way home. But she did not say + anything, for she too was troubled: she did not belong to Clare so much as + she had thought she did! + </p> + <p> + Clare reflected also as he went, how much he owed Ann's sister for letting + him have the little one. She had always spoken to him kindly too, and + never seemed, like the clerks, to look down upon him because he had been a + page-boy—though, he thought, if they were to be as often hungry as + he had been, they would be glad to be page-boys themselves! For himself, + he liked to be a page-boy! He would do anything for Miss Tempest! And he + must do what he could for Miss Shotover! It would be wicked to let her + marry a man that was wicked! He had himself seen him drunk! Would it be + fair, knowing she did not know, not to tell? Would it not be helping to + hurt her? Was he to be a coward and fear being called bad names? Was he, + for the sake of the good opinion of rascals, to take care of the rascal, + and let the lady take care of herself? There was this difficulty, however, + that he could assert nothing beyond having seen him drunk! + </p> + <p> + He carried Ann to the nursery, and set out for the menagerie. When he + knocked at the door of the house-caravan, Mrs. Halliwell opened it, stared + hardly an instant, threw her arms round his neck, and kissed him. + </p> + <p> + “Come in, come in, my boy!” she said. “It makes me a happy woman to see + you again. I've been just miserable over what might have befallen you, and + me with all that money of yours! I've got it by me safe, ready for you! I + lie awake nights and fancy Gunn has got hold of you, and made away with + you; then fall asleep and am sure of it. He's been gone several times, a + looking for you, I know! I think he's afraid of you; I know he hates you. + Mind you keep out of his sight; he'll do you a mischief if he has the + chance. He's the same as ever, a man to make life miserable.” + </p> + <p> + “I've never done him wrong,” said Clare, “and I'm not going to keep out of + his way as if I were afraid of him! I mean to come and see the animals + to-morrow.” + </p> + <p> + A great deal more passed between them. They had their tea together. Mr. + Halliwell, who did not care for tea, came and went several times, and now + the night was dark. Then they spoke again of Gunn. + </p> + <p> + “Well, I don't think he'll venture to interfere with you,” said Mrs. + Halliwell, “except he happens to be drunk.—But what's that talking? + <i>We</i>'re all quiet for the night. Listen.” + </p> + <p> + For some time Clare had been conscious of the whispered sounds of a + dialogue somewhere near, but had paid no attention. The voices were now + plainer than at first When his mother told him to listen, he did, and + thought he had heard one of them before. It was peculiar—that of an + old Jew whom he had seen several times at the bank. As the talking went + on, he began to think he knew the other voice also. It was that of + Augustus Marway. The two fancied themselves against a caravan full of wild + beasts. + </p> + <p> + Marway was the son of the port-admiral, who, late in life, married a silly + woman. She died young, but not before she had ruined her son, whose choice + company was the least respectable of the officers who came ashore from the + king's ships. + </p> + <p> + He had of late been playing deeper and having worse luck; and had borrowed + until no one would lend him a single sovereign more. His father knew, in a + vague way, how he was going on, and had nearly lost hope of his + reformation. Having yet large remains of a fine physical constitution, he + seldom failed to appear at the bank in the morning—if not quite in + time, yet within the margin of lateness that escaped rebuke. Mr. Shotover + was a connection by marriage, which gave Marway the privilege of being + regarded by Miss Shotover as a cousin—a privilege with desirable + possibilities contingent, making him anxious to retain the good opinion of + his employer. + </p> + <p> + Clare heard but a portion here and there of the conversation going on + outside the wooden wall; but it was plain nevertheless that Marway was + pressing a creditor to leave him alone until he was married, when he would + pay every shilling he owed him. + </p> + <p> + The young fellow had a persuasive tongue, and boasted he could get the + better of even a Jew. Clare heard the money-lender grant him a renewal for + three months, when, if Marway did not pay, or were not the accepted suitor + of the lady whose fortune was to redeem him, his creditor would take his + course. + </p> + <p> + The moment he perceived they were about to part, Clare hastened from the + caravan, and went along the edge of the waste ground, so as to meet Marway + on his road back to the town: at the corner of it they came jump together. + Marway started when Clare addressed him. Seeing, then, who claimed his + attention, he drew himself up. + </p> + <p> + “Well?” he said. + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Marway,” began Clare, “I heard a great deal of what passed between + you and old Lewin.” + </p> + <p> + Marway used worse than vulgar language at times, and he did so now, ending + with the words, + </p> + <p> + “A spy! a sneaking spy! Would you like to lick my boot? By Jove, you shall + know the taste of it!” + </p> + <p> + “Nobody minds being overheard who hasn't something to conceal! If I had + low secrets I would not stand up against the side of a caravan when I + wanted to talk about them. I was inside. Not to hear you I should have had + to stop my ears.” + </p> + <p> + “Why didn't you, then, you low-bred flunkey?” + </p> + <p> + “Because I had heard of you what made it my duty to listen.” + </p> + <p> + Marway cursed his insolence, and asked what he was doing in such a place. + He would report him, he said. + </p> + <p> + “What I was doing is my business,” answered Clare. “Had I known you for an + honest man I would not have listened to yours. I should have had no + right.” + </p> + <p> + “You tell me to my face I'm a swindler!” said Marway between his teeth, + letting out a blow at Clare, which he cleverly dodged. + </p> + <p> + “I do!” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know what you mean, but bitterly shall you repent your insolence, + you prying rascal! This is your sweet revenge for a blow you had not the + courage to return!—to dog me and get hold of my affairs! You cur! + You're going to turn informer next, of course, and bear false witness + against your neighbour! You shall repent it, I swear!” + </p> + <p> + “Will it be bearing false witness to say that Miss Shotover does not know + the sort of man who wants to marry her? Does she know why he wants to + marry her? Does her father know that you are in the clutches of a + money-lender?” + </p> + <p> + Marway caught hold of Clare and threatened to kill him. Clare did not + flinch, and he calmed down a little. + </p> + <p> + “What do you want to square it?” he growled. + </p> + <p> + “I don't understand you,” returned Clare. + </p> + <p> + “What's the size of your tongue-plaster?” + </p> + <p> + “I don't know much slang.” + </p> + <p> + “What bribe will silence you then? I hope that is plain enough—even + for <i>your</i> comprehension!” + </p> + <p> + “If I had meant to hold my tongue, I should have held it.” + </p> + <p> + “What do you want, then?” + </p> + <p> + “To keep you from marrying Miss Shotover.” + </p> + <p> + “By Jove! And suppose I kick you into the gutter, and tell you to mind + your own business—what then?” + </p> + <p> + “I will tell either your father or Mr. Shotover all about it.” + </p> + <p> + “Even you can't be such a fool! What good would it do you? You're not + after her yourself, are you?—Ha! ha!—that's it! I didn't nose + that!—But come, hang it! where's the <i>use</i>?—I'll give you + four flimsies—there! Twenty pounds, you idiot! There!” + </p> + <p> + “Mr. Marway, nothing will make me hold my tongue—not even your + promise to drop the thing.” + </p> + <p> + “Then what made you come and cheek me? Impudence?” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all! I should have been glad enough not to have to do it! I came + to you for my own sake.” + </p> + <p> + “That of course!” + </p> + <p> + “I came because I would do nothing underhand!” + </p> + <p> + “What are you going to do next, then?” + </p> + <p> + “I am going to tell Mr. Shotover, or Admiral Marway—I haven't yet + made up my mind which.” + </p> + <p> + “What are you going to tell them?” + </p> + <p> + “That old Lewin has given you three months to get engaged to Miss + Shotover, or take the consequences of not being able to pay what you owe + him.” + </p> + <p> + “And you don't count it underhand to carry such a tale?” + </p> + <p> + “I do not. It would have been if I hadn't told you first. I would tell + Miss Shotover, only, if she be anything of a girl, she wouldn't believe + me.” + </p> + <p> + “I should think not! Come, come, be reasonable! I always thought you a + good sort of fellow, though I <i>was</i> rough on you, I confess. There! + take the money, and leave me my chance.” + </p> + <p> + “No. I will save the lady if I can. She shall at least know the sort of + man you are.” + </p> + <p> + “Then it's war to the knife, is it?” + </p> + <p> + “I mean to tell the truth about you.” + </p> + <p> + “Then do your worst. You shall black my boots again.” + </p> + <p> + “If I do, I shall have the penny first.” + </p> + <p> + “You cringing flunkey!” + </p> + <p> + “I haven't cringed to you, Mr. Marway!” + </p> + <p> + Marway tried to kick him, failed, and strode into the dark between him and + the lamps of the town. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0062" id="link2HCH0062"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter LXII. The cage of the puma. + </h2> + <p> + Marway was a fine, handsome fellow, whose manners, where he saw reason, + soon won him favour, and two of the young men in the office were his ready + slaves. Every moment of the next day Clare was watched. Marway had laid + his plans, and would forestall frustration. Clare could hardly do anything + before the dinner-hour, but Marway would make assurance double sure. + </p> + <p> + At anchor in the roads lay a certain frigate, whose duty it was to sail + round the islands, like a duck about her floating brood. Among the young + officers on board were two with whom Marway was intimate. He had met them + the night before, and they had together laid a plot for nullifying Clare's + interference with Marway's scheme—which his friends also had reason + to wish successful, for Marway owed them both money. Clare had come in the + way of all three. + </p> + <p> + Now little Ann was a guardian cherub to the object of their enmity, and he + and she must first of all be separated. Clare had asked leave of Miss + Shotover to take the child to Noah's ark, as she called it, that evening, + and Marway had learned it from her: Clare's going would favour their plan, + but the child's presence would render it impracticable. + </p> + <p> + One thing in their favour was, that Mr. Shotover was from home. If Clare + had resolved on telling him rather than the admiral, he could not until + the next evening, and that would give them abundant time. On the other + hand, having him watched, they could easily prevent him from finding the + admiral. But Clare had indeed come to the just conclusion that his master + had the first right to know what he had to tell. His object was not the + exposure of Marway, but the protection of his master's daughter: he would, + therefore, wait Mr. Shotover's return. He said to himself also, that + Marway would thereby have a chance to bethink himself, and, like Hamlet's + uncle, “try what repentance can.” + </p> + <p> + As soon as he had put the bank in order for the night, he went to find his + little companion, and take her to Noah's ark. The child had been sitting + all the morning and afternoon in a profound stillness of expectation; but + the hour came and passed, and Clare did not appear. + </p> + <p> + “You never, never, never came,” she said to him afterward. “I had to go to + bed, and the beasts went away.” + </p> + <p> + It was many long weeks before she told him this, or her solemn little + visage smiled again. + </p> + <p> + He went to the little room off the hall, where he almost always found her + waiting for him, dressed to go. She was not there. Nobody came. He grew + impatient, and ran in his eagerness up the front stair. At the top he met + the butler coming from the drawing-room—a respectable old man, who + had been in the family as long as his master. + </p> + <p> + “Pardon me, Mr. Porson,” said the butler, who was especially polite to + Clare, recognizing in him the ennoblement of his own order, “but it is + against the rules for any of the gentlemen below to come up this + staircase.” + </p> + <p> + “I know I'm in the wrong,” answered Clare; “but I was in such a hurry I + ventured this once. I've been waiting for Miss Ann twenty minutes.” + </p> + <p> + “If you will go down, I will make inquiry, and let you know directly,” + replied the butler. + </p> + <p> + Clare went down, and had not waited more than another minute when the + butler brought the message that the child was not to go out. In vain Clare + sought an explanation; the old man knew nothing of the matter, but + confessed that Miss Shotover seemed a little put out. + </p> + <p> + Then Clare saw that his desire to do justice had thwarted his endeavour: + Marway had seen Miss Shotover, he concluded, and had so thoroughly + prejudiced her against anything he might say, that she had already taken + the child from him! He repented that he had told him his purpose before he + was ready to follow it up with immediate action. Distressed at the thought + of little Ann's disappointment, he set out for the show, glad in the midst + of his grief, that he was going to see Pummy once more. + </p> + <p> + The weather had been a little cloudy all day, but as he left the closer + part of the town, the vaporous vault gave way, and the west revealed a + glorious sunset. Troubled for the trouble of little Ann, Clare seemed + drawn into the sunset. The splendour said to him: “Go on; sorrow is but a + cloud. Do the work given you to do, and the clouds will keep moving; stop + your work and the clouds will settle down hard.” + </p> + <p> + “When I was on the tramp,” thought Clare, “I always went on, and that's + how I came here. If I hadn't gone on, I should never have found the + darling!” + </p> + <p> + As little as during any day's tramp did he know how his reflection was + going to be justified. + </p> + <p> + He wandered on, and the minutes passed slowly: it was wandering now with + no child in his arms! He was in no haste to go to the menagerie; he would + be in good time for the beasts; and the later he was, the sooner he would + see his mother alone and have a talk with her! + </p> + <p> + At last, it being now quite dark, he turned, and made for the caravans. + </p> + <p> + A crowd was going up the steps, passing Mrs. Halliwell slowly, and + descending into the area surrounded by the beasts. Clare went up, and laid + his money on the little white table. The good woman took it with a smile, + threw it in her wooden bowl, and handed him, as if it had been his change, + three bright sovereigns. Clare turned his face away. He could not take + them. He felt as if it would break one bond between them. + </p> + <p> + “The money's your own!” she said, in a low voice. + </p> + <p> + “By and by, mother!” he answered. + </p> + <p> + “No, no, take it now,” she insisted, in an almost angry whisper; but the + same moment threw the sovereigns among the silver, and some coppers that + lay on the table over them. + </p> + <p> + Judging by her look that he had better say nothing, he turned and went + down the steps. Before he reached the bottom of them, Glum Gunn elbowed + his way past him, throwing a scowl on him from his ugly eyes at the range + of a few inches. + </p> + <p> + The place was fuller than it had been all the evening, and with a rougher + sort of company. The show would close in about an hour. It seemed to Clare + not so well lighted as usual. Perhaps that was why he did not observe that + he was watched and followed by Marway, with two others, and one burly, + middle-aged, sailor-looking fellow. But I doubt whether he would have seen + them in any light, for he had no suspicions, and was not ready to analyze + a crowd and distinguish individuals. + </p> + <p> + He avoided making straight for Pummy, contenting himself for the moment + with an occasional glimpse of him between the moving heads, now opening a + vista, now closing it again, for he hoped to get gradually nearer unseen, + so as to be close to the animal when first he should descry him, for he + dreaded attracting attention by becoming, while yet at a distance, the + object of an uproarious outbreak of affection on the part of the puma. + </p> + <p> + But while he was yet a good way from him, a most ferocious yell sprang + full grown into the air, which the very fibres of his body knew as one of + the cries of the puma when most enraged. There he was on his hind legs, + ramping against the front of the cage, every hair on him bristling, his + tail lashing his flanks. The same instant arose a commotion in the crowd + behind Clare, a pushing and stooping and swaying to and fro, with shouts + of, “Here he is! here he is!” + </p> + <p> + Filled with a foreboding that was almost a prescience, he fell to forcing + his way without ceremony, and had got a little nearer to the puma, when, + elbowing roughly through the spectators, with red, evil face, in drink but + not drunk, Glum Gunn appeared, almost between him and the cage—once + more, to the horror of Clare, holding by the neck his poor little Abdiel, + curled up into the shape of a flea. The brute was making his way with him + to the cage of the puma, whose wrath, grown to an indescribable frenzy, + now blazed point-blank at the dog. + </p> + <p> + I think some waft of the wild odour of the menagerie must have reached the + nostrils of the loving creature, brought back old times and his master, + and waked the hope of finding him. That he had but just arrived was plain, + for he had not had time to get to his master. + </p> + <p> + Clare was almost at the edge of the close-packed, staring crowd, absorbed + in the sight of the huge raving cat. Breaking through its outermost ring + in the strength of sudden terror, he darted to the cage to reach it before + Glum Gunn. A man crossed and hustled him. Gunn opened the door of the + cage, and flung Abdiel to the puma. Ere he could close it, Clare struck + him once more a stout left-hander on the side of his head. Gunn staggered + back. Clare sprang into the cage—just as Pummy spying him uttered a + jubilant roar of recognition. His jumping into the cage just prevented the + puma from getting out, and the crowd from trampling each other to death to + escape The Christians' Friend; but now that Clare was in, the cage-door + might have swung all night open unheeded—so long, that is, as no dog + appeared. + </p> + <p> + As for Abdiel the puma had forgotten him: the dog was out of his sight for + the moment, though only behind him, while his friend and he were rubbing + recognizant noses. Abdiel showed his wisdom by keeping in the background. + The moment he was flung into the cage, he had got into a corner of it, and + stood up on his hind legs. + </p> + <p> + His master believed that, knowing how the puma loved the human form + divine, he thought to prejudice him in his favour by showing how near he + could come to it. There he yet stood, his head sunk on his chest, watching + out of his eyes for the terrible moment when his enemy should again catch + sight of him. + </p> + <p> + The moment came. The puma's delight had broken out in wildest motion. He + sprang to the roof of his cage, and grappling there, looked down with + retorted neck, and saw the dog. Poor Abdiel immediately raised his head, + and in hope of propitiation all but forlorn, began a little dance his + master had taught him. + </p> + <p> + What Pummy would have done with him, I fear, but I cannot tell. Clare + sprang to the rescue, and the weight of the puma's bulk descended, not on + Abdiel, but on the shoulders of Clare who had the dog in his bosom. In a + moment more it was evidenced that a common love, however often the cause + of jealousy, is the most powerful mediator between the generous. The puma + forgot his hate, the dog forgot his fear, and presently, to the admiration + of the crowd, Clare and Pummy and Abby were rolling over and over each + other on the floor of the cage. + </p> + <p> + Pummy had the best of the rough game. One moment he would be a bend in a + seemingly unloosable knot of confused animality, the next he would be + clinging to the top of his cage, where the others could not follow him. + Perhaps to have a human to play with, was even better than dreams of + loveliest frolics with brothers and sisters, and a mother as madly merry + as they, in still, moonlit nights among the rocks, where neither sound nor + scent of horse woke the devil in any of their bosoms! + </p> + <p> + Glum Gunn, too angry to speak, stood watching with a scowl fit for Lucifer + when he rose from his first fall from heaven. He could do nothing! If he + touched one, all three would be upon him! Experience had taught him what + the puma would do in defence of Clare! He must bide his time!—But he + must keep hold of his chance! He drew from his pocket his master-key, and + at a moment when Clare was under the other two, slid it into the key-hole, + and locked the door of the cage. He had him now—and his beast of a + dog too! If he could have turned the puma mad, and made him tear them both + to shreds, he would not have delayed an instant. But he must think! He + must say, like Hamlet, “About, my brains!” + </p> + <p> + The man, however, who wishes to do evil, will find as ready helpers as he + who wishes to do well: in the place were those who wanted Gunn's aid, and + would give him theirs. + </p> + <p> + He felt a touch on his arm, glanced sullenly round, and saw a face under + whose beauty lay the devil. Marway, with eye and thumb, requested him to + withdraw for a moment, and he did not hesitate. As he went he chuckled to + himself at the thought of Clare when he found the door locked. + </p> + <p> + Marway's three accomplices had drifted off one by one to wait him outside: + he rejoined them with Gunn; and, retiring a little way from the caravans, + the five held a council, the results of which make an important part of + Clare's history. + </p> + <p> + Clare seemed absorbed in his game with his four-footed, one-tailed + friends, but he was wide awake: he had Abdiel to deliver, and kept, + therefore, all the time, at least half an eye on Glum Gunn. He saw Marway + come up to him, and saw them retire together: it was the very moment to + leave the cage with Abdiel! He rose, not without difficulty, because of + the jumping of his playmates upon him and over him, and went to the door. + </p> + <p> + The moment he did so, the crowd was greatly amused to see the puma turn + upon the dog with a snarl, and the dog, at the fearful sound of altered + mood, immediately put on the man, rise to one pair of feet, and begin to + dance. The puma turned from him, went to the heel of his chosen master, + and there stood. + </p> + <p> + In vain Clare endeavoured to open the gate. He had never known it locked, + and could not think when it had been done. At length, amid the laughter of + the spectators, he desisted, and the three resumed their frolics. + </p> + <p> + At this the admiration of the visitors broke out. They had seen the door + made fast, and had kept pretty quiet, waiting what would come: they had + thus earned their amusement when he sought in vain to open it. When his + withdrawal confessed him foiled, the merrier began to mock and the ruder + to jeer. But when they saw him laugh, and all three return to their + gambols, they applauded heartily. + </p> + <p> + Just before this last portion of the entertainment, Mr. Halliwell, who had + been looking on for a while, retired, not knowing the cage-door was + locked. He went to his wife and said, that, if they had but the boy and + his dog again, and were but free of that brother of his, the menagerie + would be a wild-beast paradise. He would have had her go and see the + pranks in the puma's cage, but she was too tired, she said; so he strolled + out with his pipe, and left his men to close the exhibition. Mrs. + Halliwell fastened her door and went to bed, a little hurt that Clare did + not come to her. + </p> + <p> + Gradually the folk thinned away; and at last only a few who had got in at + half-price remained. To them the attendants hinted that they were going to + shut shop, and one by one they shuffled out, the readier that Clare was + now so tired that Pummy could not get up the merest tail of a lark more. + He was quite fresh himself, and had he been out in the woods, would + certainly not have gone home till morning. But he was such a human + creature that he would not insist when he saw Clare was weary; and that he + had no inclination to play with Abdiel when his master was out of the + game, was quite as well for Abdiel, for Pummy might have forgot himself. + When Abby, not free from fear, as knowing well he was not free from + danger, crept to his master's bosom, Pummy gave a low growl, and shoving + his nose under the long body of the dog, with one jerk threw him a yard + off upon the floor, whence Abdiel returned to content himself with his + master's feet, abandoning the place of honour to one who knew himself + stronger, and probably counted himself better. So they all fell asleep in + peace. For although Clare knew himself and Abdiel Gunn's prisoners, he + feared no surprise with two such rousable companions. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0063" id="link2HCH0063"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter LXIII. The dome of the angels. + </h2> + <p> + When Clare awoke, he knew he had been asleep a long time. It was, + notwithstanding, quite dark, and there was something wrong with him. His + head ached: it had never ached before. He put out his hands: Pummy's hairy + body was nowhere near. He called Abdiel: no whimper answered; no cold nose + was thrust into his hand. He had gone to sleep, surely between his two + friends! Could he have only dreamed it? + </p> + <p> + Why was the darkness so thick? There must surely be light in the clouds by + this time! He felt half awake and half dreaming. + </p> + <p> + What was the curious motion he grew aware of? Was something trying to keep + him asleep, or was something trying to wake him? Had they put him in a big + cradle? Were they heaving him about to rouse him? Or could it be a gentle + earthquake that was rocking him to and fro? Would it wake up in earnest + presently, and pull and push, and shake and rattle, until the dome of the + angels came shivering down upon him? + </p> + <p> + Where was he? Not on the hard floor of Pummy's cage, but on something much + harder—like iron. Was he in the wagon in which they carried the + things for setting up the show? Something had happened to him, and his + mother was taking him with her! But in that case he would be lying softer! + <i>She</i> would not have given him a bed so full of aches! + </p> + <p> + What would they think at the bank? What would little Ann think if he came + to her no more? + </p> + <p> + He could not be in a caravan; the motion was much too smooth and pleasant + for that! + </p> + <p> + He put his hand to his face: what was it wet on his cheek? It did not feel + nice; it felt like blood! Had he had a blow on the head? Was that what + gave him this headache? He felt his head all over, but could find no hurt. + </p> + <p> + Why was he lying like a log, wondering and wondering, instead of getting + up and seeing what it all meant? It must be the darkness and the headache + that kept him down! The place was very close! He <i>must</i> get out of + it! + </p> + <p> + He tried to get on his feet, but as he rose, his head struck something, + and he dropped back. He got again on his knees and groped about. On all + sides he was closed in. But he was not shut in a dungeon of stone. He + seemed to be in a great wooden box—small enough to be a box, much + too large for a coffin. Could it be one of the oubliettes in the roof of + the doge's palace at Venice? He laughed at the idea, for the motion + continued, the gentle earthquake that seemed trying to rock him to sleep: + the doge's palace could hardly be afloat on the grand canal! + </p> + <p> + What could it all mean? What would little Ann do without him? She would + not cry: she never cried—at least, he had never seen her cry! but + that would not make it easier for her! + </p> + <p> + What had become of Abdiel? Had Glum Gunn got him? Then the wet on his face + was Abdiel's blood—shed in his defence, perhaps, when his enemies + were taking him away! + </p> + <p> + Fears and anxieties, such as he had never known before, began to crowd + upon him—not for himself; he was not made to think of himself, + either first or second. Something dreadful might be going on that he could + not prevent! He had never been so miserable. It was high time to do + something—to ask the great one somewhere, he did not know where, who + could somehow, he did not know how, hear the thoughts that were not words, + to do what ought to be done for little Ann, and Abdiel, and Pummy! He + prayed in his heart, lay still, and fell fast asleep. + </p> + <p> + He came to himself again, in the act of drawing a deep breath of cool, + delicious air. He was no longer shut in the dark, stifling box. He was + coming alive! A comforting wind blew all about him. It was like a live + thing putting its own life into him. But his eyelids were heavy; he was + unable to open them. + </p> + <p> + All at once they opened of themselves. + </p> + <p> + The dome of the angels had come down and closed in round him, but bringing + room for him, taking none away. It was blue, and filled with the loveliest + white clouds, possessed by a blowing wind that never was able to blow them + away. They were of strangely regular shapes; not the less were they alive—piled + one above the other, up and up—up ever so high! They all kept their + places, and some had the loveliest blue shadows upon them, which glided + about a little. But the dome of the angels rose high, and ever higher + still, above them. The dome of the angels was at home, and the clouds were + at home in it. He gazed entranced at the sight. Then came a sudden strong + heave and roll of the earthquake, and a light shone in his eyes that + blinded him. + </p> + <p> + It was but the strong friendly sun. When Clare opened his eyes again, he + knew that he was lying on the deck of one of the great ships he had so + frequently looked at from the shore. Oh, how often had he not longed after + this one and that one of them, as if in some one somewhere, perhaps in + that one, lay something he could not do without, which yet he could never + set his eyes, not to say his hands upon. He had his heart's desire, and + what was to come of it? He lay on the ship, and the ship lay on the sea, a + little world afloat on the water, moving as a planet moves through the + heavens, but carrying her own heaven with her, attended by her own clouds, + bearing her whither she would. Up into those clouds he lay gazing, up into + the dome of the angels, drawing deeper and deeper breaths of gladness, too + happy to think—when a foot came with a kick in the ribs, and a voice + ordered him to get up: was he going to lie there till the frigate was paid + off? + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0064" id="link2HCH0064"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter LXIV. The panther. + </h2> + <p> + Clare scrambled to his feet, and surveyed the man who had thus roused him. + He had a vague sense of having seen him before, but could not remember + where. Feeling faint, and finding himself beside a gun, he leaned upon it. + </p> + <p> + The sailor regarded him with an insolent look. + </p> + <p> + “Wake up,” he said, “an' come along to the cap'n. What's the service a + comin' to, I should like to know, when a beggarly shaver like you has the + cheek to stow hisself away on board one o' his majesty's frigates! Wouldn' + nothin' less suit your highness than a berth on the Panther?” + </p> + <p> + “Is that the name of the ship?” asked Clare. + </p> + <p> + “Yes, that's the name of the ship!” returned the man, mimicking him. + “You'll have the Panther, his mark, on the back o' <i>you</i> presently! + Come along, I say, to the cap'n! We ha' got to ask <i>him</i>, what's to + be done wi' rascals as rob their masters, an' then stow theirselves away + on board his majesty's ships!” + </p> + <p> + “Take me to the captain,” said Clare. + </p> + <p> + The man seemed for a moment to doubt whether there might not be some + mistake: he had expected to see him cringe. But he took him by the collar + behind, and pushed him along to the quarter-deck, where an elderly officer + was pacing up and down alone. + </p> + <p> + “Well, Tom,” said the captain, stopping in his walk, “what's the matter? + Who's that you've got?” + </p> + <p> + “Please yer honour,” answered the boatswain, giving Clare a shove, “this + here's a stowaway in his majesty's ship, Panther. I found him snug in the + cable-tier.—Salute the captain, you beggar!” + </p> + <p> + Clare had no cap to lift, but he bowed like the gentleman he was. The + captain stood looking at him. Clare returned his gaze, and smiled. A sort + of tremble, much like that in the level air on a hot summer day, went over + the captain's face, and he looked harder at Clare. + </p> + <p> + A sound arose like the purring of an enormous cat, and, sure enough, it + was nothing else: chained to the foot of the forward binnacle stood a + panther, a dark yellow creature with black spots, bigger than Pummy, + swinging his tail. Clare turned at the noise he made. The panther made a + bound and a leap to the height and length of his chain, and uttered a cry + like a musical yawn. Clare stretched out his arms, and staggered toward + him. The next moment the animal had him. The captain darted to the rescue. + But the beast was only licking him wherever there was a bare spot to lick; + and Clare wondered to find how many such spots there were: he was in rags! + The panther kept tossing him over and over as if he were a baby, licking + as he tossed, and in his vibrating body and his whole behaviour manifested + an exceeding joy. The captain stood staring “like one that hath been + stunned.” + </p> + <p> + The boatswain was not astonished: he had seen Clare at home among wild + animals, and thought the panther was taken with the wild-beast smell about + him. + </p> + <p> + “I beg your pardon, sir,” said Clare, rolling himself out of the panther's + reach, and rising to his feet, “but wild things like me, somehow! I slept + with a puma last night. He and this panther, sir, would have a terrible + fight if they met!” + </p> + <p> + The captain threw a look of disappointment at the panther. + </p> + <p> + “Go forward, Tom,” he said. + </p> + <p> + The man did not like the turn things had taken, and as he went wore + something of the look of one doomed to make the acquaintance of another + kind of cat. + </p> + <p> + “What made you come on board this ship, my lad?” asked the captain, in a + voice so quiet that it sounded almost kind. + </p> + <p> + “I did not come on board, sir.” + </p> + <p> + “Don't trifle with <i>me</i>,” returned the captain sternly. + </p> + <p> + Clare looked straight at him, and said— + </p> + <p> + “I have done nothing wrong, sir. I know you will help me. I fell asleep + last night, as I told you, sir, in the cage of a puma. I knew him, of + course! How I came awake on board your ship, I know no more than you do, + sir.” + </p> + <p> + The smile of Clare's childhood had scarcely altered, and it now shone full + on the captain. He turned away, and made a tack or two on the + quarter-deck. He was a tall, thin man, with a graceful carriage, and a + little stoop in the shoulders. He had a handsome, sad face, growing old. + His hair was more than half way to gray, and he seemed somewhere about + fifty. He had the sternness of a man used to command, but under the + sternness Clare saw the sadness. + </p> + <p> + The attention of the boy was now somewhat divided between the captain and + his panther, which seemed possessed with a fierce desire to get at him, + though plainly with no inimical intent. The attention of the captain + seemed divided between the boy and the panther; his eyes now rested for a + moment on the animal, now turned again to the boy. Two officers on the + port side of the quarter-deck stole glances at the strange group—the + stately, solemn, still man; the ragged creature before him, who looked in + his face without fear or anxiety, and with just as little presumption; and + the wildly excited panther, whose fierce bounding alternated with cringing + abasement of his beautiful person, accompanied by loving sweeps of his + most expressive tail. + </p> + <p> + The captain made a tack or two more on the quarter-deck, then turned sharp + on the boy. + </p> + <p> + “What is your name?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “I don't quite know, sir,” answered Clare. + </p> + <p> + “Come with me,” said the captain. + </p> + <p> + To the surprise of the officers, he led the way to his state-room, and the + boy followed. The panther gave a howl as Clare disappeared. The officers + remarked that the captain looked strange. His lips were compressed as if + with vengeance, but the muscles of his face were twitching. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0065" id="link2HCH0065"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter LXV. At home. + </h2> + <p> + Clare followed, wondering, but nowise anxious. He saw nothing to make him + anxious. The captain looked a good man, and a good man was a friend to + Clare! But when he entered the state-room, and saw himself from head to + foot in a mirror let into a bulkhead, he was both startled and ashamed: + how could the captain take such a scarecrow into his room! he thought. He + did not reflect that it was just the sort of thing he did himself. He had + indeed felt dirty and disreputable, and been aware of the dry, rasping + tongue of the panther on many patches of bare skin, but he had had no idea + what a wretched creature he looked. Not one of the garments he saw in the + mirror was his own, and they were disgracefully torn. His hair was + sticking out every way, and his face smeared with blood. His feet were + bare, and one trouser-leg rent to the knee. His enemies had done their + best to ensure prejudice, and frustrate belief. They did not see in his + look what no honest man could misread. Innocent as he knew himself, he + could not help feeling for a moment disconcerted. But his faithfulness + threw him on the mercy of the man before him. + </p> + <p> + The captain turned and sat down. The boy stood in the doorway, staring at + his reflex self in the mirror. The captain understood his consternation. + </p> + <p> + “Come along, my poor boy,” he said. “How did you get into this mess?” + </p> + <p> + “I think I know,” answered Clare, “but I'm not sure.” + </p> + <p> + “You must have been drunk,” sighed the captain. + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, sir!” returned Clare, with one of his radiant smiles. “I've had + but one glass of beer in my life, and I didn't like it.” + </p> + <p> + The captain smiled too, and gazed at him for several moments without + speaking. + </p> + <p> + “It seems to me,” he said at last, but as if he were thinking of something + quite different, “you must be in want of food.” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, no, sir!” answered Clare again, “I'm used to going without.” + </p> + <p> + Like a child the sport of an evil fairy, he was again the boy of the old + wanderings, in the old, hungry times. But did he ever look so lost as in + the mirror before him? he wondered. + </p> + <p> + “You haven't told me——” said the captain, and stopped short, + as if he dreaded going further. + </p> + <p> + “I will tell you anything you want to know, sir. Please ask me.” + </p> + <p> + “You say you did not come on board the frigate: what am I to understand by + that?” + </p> + <p> + “That I was brought, sir, in my sleep. It wouldn't be fair, would it, sir, + to mention names, when I don't know for certain who they were that brought + me? I never knew anything till I opened my eyes, and thought I was in——” + </p> + <p> + He paused. + </p> + <p> + “<i>Where</i> did you think you were?” asked the captain eagerly. + </p> + <p> + “In the dome of the angels, sir,” answered Clare. + </p> + <p> + The captain's face fell. He thought him an innocent, on whom rascals had + been playing a practical joke. But that made no difference! If he were a + simpleton, he might none the less be——! Was <i>her</i> boy + left to——? + </p> + <p> + He shuddered visibly, and again was silent. + </p> + <p> + “Tell me,” he said at length, “what you remember.” + </p> + <p> + He meant—of the circumstances that immediately preceded his coming + to himself on board the Panther; but Clare began with the first thing his + memory presented him with. Perhaps he was yet a little dazed. He had not + got through a single sentence, when he saw that something earlier wanted + telling first; and the same thing happening again and again within the + first five minutes of his narration, sir Harry saw he had before him a boy + either of fertile imagination, or of “strange, eventful history.” But + either supposition had its difficulty. If, on the one hand, he had had the + tenth part of the experiences hinted at; if, for one thing, he had been + but a single month on the tramp, how had he kept such an innocent face, + such an angelic smile? If, on the other hand, he was making up these + tales, why did he not look sharper? and whence the angelic smile? Did the + seeming innocence indicate only such a lack of intellect as occasionally + accompanies a remarkable individual gift? He must make him begin at the + beginning, and tell everything he knew, or might pretend to know about + himself! + </p> + <p> + “Stop,” he said. “You told me you did not quite know your name: what did + they call you as far back as you can remember?” + </p> + <p> + “Clare Porson,” answered the boy. + </p> + <p> + At the first word the captain gave a little cry, but repressed his + emotion, and went on. His face was very white, and his breath came and + went quickly. + </p> + <p> + “Why did you say you did not <i>quite</i> know your name?” + </p> + <p> + “My father and mother called me by their name because there was nobody to + tell them what my real name was.” + </p> + <p> + “Then they weren't your own father and mother that gave you the name?” + </p> + <p> + “No, sir. I'm but using theirs till I get my own. I shall one day.” + </p> + <p> + “Why do you think so?” + </p> + <p> + “Don't <i>you</i> think, sir, that everything will come right one day?” + </p> + <p> + “God grant it!” responded the captain with a groan, self-reproached for + the little faith beside the strong desire. + </p> + <p> + “Do you think it wrong, sir, to use a name that is not quite my own?” said + Clare. “People sometimes seem to think so.” + </p> + <p> + “Not at all, my boy! You must have a name. You did not steal it. They gave + it you.” + </p> + <p> + The look of the boy when he thus answered him, completely restored sir + Harry's confidence in his mental soundness, while both the mode and the + nature of his answer to every question he put to him, bore the strongest + impress of truth. + </p> + <p> + “If the boy be a liar,” he said to himself, “I will never more trust my + kind. I will turn to the wild-beasts, and believe in panthers and hyenas!” + </p> + <p> + “They did, sir,” answered Clare. “Mr. Porson gave me his own name, and he + was a clergyman. So I thought afterwards, when I had to think about it, + that it couldn't be wrong to use it.” + </p> + <p> + But how could sir Harry palter so with himself? He might have got at the + necessary facts so much quicker! + </p> + <p> + Sir Harry shrank from seeing his suddenly wakened hope, dead for many a + year, crumble before his eyes. He dared not yet drive question close. + </p> + <p> + “Did Mr. Porson give you both your names?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “No, sir. My mother said I brought the first with me. She said I told them—I + don't remember myself—that my name was Clare.” + </p> + <p> + The captain drove back the words that threatened to break from his lips in + spite of him. His boy's name was Clarence, but his mother, whose dearest + friend was a <i>Clara</i>, called her child always <i>Clare</i>! + </p> + <p> + “I mean my second mother, sir,” explained Clare; “my own mother is in the + dome of the angels.” + </p> + <p> + A flash lightened from the captain's eyes, but he seemed to himself to + have gone blind. Clare saw the flash, and wondered. + </p> + <p> + Again <i>the dome of the angels</i>! The words burst into meaning. Out of + the depths of the world of life rose to his mind's eye the terrible thing + that had made him a lonely man. Again he stood with his head thrown back, + looking up at the Assumption of the Virgin painted in that awful dome; + again the earthquake seized the church, and shook the painted heaven down + upon them. He knew no more. His little boy had been standing near him, + holding his mother's hand, but staring up like his father! + </p> + <p> + He had to force the next words from his throat. + </p> + <p> + “Where did the good people who gave you their name find you?” + </p> + <p> + “Sitting on my mother—my own mother. The angels fell down on her, + and when they went up again, she had got mixed with them, and went up + too.” + </p> + <p> + Some people thought my friend Skymer “a little queer, you know!” I leave + my reader to his own thought: he will judge after his kind. Clare's father + no longer doubted his perfect faculty. + </p> + <p> + All through Clare's life, as often as the old, vague, but ever ready + vision brought back its old feelings, with them came the old thoughts, the + old forms of them, and the old words their attendant shadows; and then + Clare talked like a child. + </p> + <p> + The stern, sorrowful man hid his face In his hands. + </p> + <p> + “Grace,” he murmured—and Clare knew somehow that he spoke to his + wife, “we have him again! We will never distrust him more!” + </p> + <p> + His frame heaved with the choking of his sobs. + </p> + <p> + Then Clare understood that the grand man was his father. The awe of a + perfect gladness fell upon him. He knelt before him, and laid his hands + together as in prayer. + </p> + <p> + “Why did you distrust me, father?” said the half-naked outcast. + </p> + <p> + “It was not my child, it was my father I distrusted. I am ashamed,” said + sir Harry, and clasped him in his arms. + </p> + <p> + The boy laid his blood-stained face against his father's bosom, and his + soul was in a better home than a sky full of angels, a home better than + the dome itself of all the angels, for his home was his father's heart. + </p> + <p> + How long they remained thus I cannot tell. It seemed to both as if so it + had been from eternity, and so to eternity it would be. When a thing is as + it should be, then we know it is from eternity to eternity. The true is. + </p> + <p> + The father relaxed at length the arms that strained his child to his + heart. Clare looked up with white, luminous face. He gazed at his father, + cried like little Ann, “You're come!” and slid to his feet. He clasped and + kissed and clung to them—would hardly let them go. + </p> + <p> + All this time the officers on the quarter-deck were wondering what the + captain could have to do with the beggarly stowaway. The panther stood on + his feet, anxiously waiting, his ears starting at every sound. He was + longing for the boy with whom he had played, panther cub with human + infant, in the years long gone by. The sweet airs of his childhood were to + the panther plainly recognizable through all the accretions that + disfigured but could not defile him. The two were the same age. They had + rolled on floor and deck together when neither could hurt—and now + neither would. For the animal was perfectly harmless, and chained only + because apt to be unseasonably frolicsome. When they let him loose, it was + a season of high jinks and rare skylarking. Then the men had to look out! + He had twice knocked a man overboard, and had once tumbled overboard + himself. But he had never killed a creature, was always gentle with + children, and might be trusted to look after any infant. + </p> + <p> + Sir Harry raised his son, kissed him, set him on his own chair, and + retired into an inner cabin. + </p> + <p> + A knock came to the door. Clare said, “Come in.” The quartermaster + entered. Instead of sir Harry, he saw the miserable stowaway, seated in + the captain's own chair. He swore at him, and ordered him out, prepared to + give him a kick as he passed. + </p> + <p> + “Out with you!” he cried. “Go for'ard. Tell the bo's'n to look out a + rope's end. I'll be after you.” + </p> + <p> + “The captain told me to sit here,” answered Clare, and sat. + </p> + <p> + The officer looked closer at him, begged his pardon, saluted, and + withdrew. + </p> + <p> + The father heard, and said to himself, “The boy is a gentleman: he knows + where to take his orders.” + </p> + <p> + He called him into the inner cabin, and there washed him from head to + foot, rejoicing to find under his rags a skin as clean as his own. + </p> + <p> + “Now what are we to do for clothes, Clare?” said sir Harry. + </p> + <p> + “Perhaps somebody would lend me some,” answered Clare. “Mayn't I be your + cabin-boy, father? You will let me be a sailor, won't you, and sail always + with you?” + </p> + <p> + “You shall be a sailor, my boy,” answered sir Harry, “and sail with me as + long as God pleases. You know to obey orders!” + </p> + <p> + “I will obey the cook if you tell me, father.” + </p> + <p> + “You shall obey nobody but myself,” returned sir Harry; “—and the + lord high admiral,” he added, with a glance upward, and a smile like his + son's. + </p> + <p> + For that day Clare kept to the captain's state-room; the next, he went on + deck in a midshipman's uniform, which he wore like a gentleman that could + obey orders. + </p> + <p> + <a name="link2HCH0066" id="link2HCH0066"> + <!-- H2 anchor --> </a> + </p> + <div style="height: 4em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + <h2> + Chapter LXVI. The end of Clare Skymer's boyhood. + </h2> + <p> + His father had a hammock slung for him in the state-room; he could not be + parted from him even when they slept. + </p> + <p> + One night sir Harry, lying awake, heard a movement in the state-room, and + got up. It was a still, star-lit night. The frigate was dreaming away + northward with all sail set. Through the windows shone the level stars. + From a beam above hung a dim lamp. He could see no one. He went to the + hammock. There was no boy in it. Then he spied him, kneeling under the + stern-windows, with his head down. + </p> + <p> + “Anything the matter, Clare?” he asked. + </p> + <p> + “No, father.” + </p> + <p> + “What are you doing?” + </p> + <p> + “Trying to say <i>Thank you for my father!</i>” + </p> + <p> + “Oh, thank him, thank him, my boy!” returned sir Harry. “Thank him with + all your heart. He will give us <i>her</i> some day!” + </p> + <p> + “Yes, father, he will!” responded Clare. + </p> + <p> + His father knelt beside him, but neither said word that the other heard. + </p> + <p> + The next night, Clare was on the quarter-deck with his father, and heard + him give certain orders to the officers of the watch. He had never heard + orders given in such a way: he spoke so quietly, so directly, so simply! + The night was gusty and dark, threatening foul weather. The captain + measured the quarter-deck as when first Clare saw him, but with a mien how + different! He walked as slow and stately as before, but with a look almost + of triumph in his eyes, glancing often at the clouds. The thought of + having such a father made Clare tremble with delight from head to foot. + His father was the power of the sea-planet that bore them! Him the great + vessel, and all aboard of her, obeyed! He was the life of her motions, the + soul of her! At his pleasure she bowed her obedient head, and swept over + the seas! Clare's heart swelled within him. + </p> + <p> + But this father had, the night before, knelt with him in the presence of + one unseen, worshipping and thanking a higher than himself! As the captain + of the Panther sailed his frigate through the seas, so the great father, + the father of his father, the father of all fathers, to whom the captain + kneeled as a little child, sailed through the heaven of heavens the huge + ship of the world, guided fleet upon fleet innumerable through trackless + space! And over an infinitely grander sea than the measureless ocean of + worlds, the Father was carrying navies of human souls, every soul a world + whose affairs none but the Father could understand, through many a storm, + and waterspout, and battle with the powers of evil, safe to the haven of + the children, the Father's house! And Clare began to understand that so it + was. + </p> + <p> + One day his father said to him— + </p> + <p> + “Clare, whatever you forget, whatever you remember, mind this—that + you and I and your mother are the children of one father, and that we have + all three to be good children to that father. If we do as he tells us, he + will bring us all at length to the same port. Our admiral is Jesus Christ. + We take our orders from him. But each has to sail his own ship.” + </p> + <p> + The boatswain shook in his wide shoes, but Clare never showed him the + least disfavour. He recognized at once the two officers he had seen at the + menagerie, but beyond giving each a look he could hardly mistake, he + showed no sign of having any knowledge of them. + </p> + <p> + He set himself to be a sailor, and learned fast. I need scarcely say he + was as precise in obeying any superior officer as the best sailor on + board. In a few weeks he felt and looked to the manner born—as + indeed he was, for not only his father, but his grandfather, and his + great-grandfather, and more yet of his ancestors,—how many I do not + know, were sailors. + </p> + <p> + He had had a rough shaking. The earthquake had come and gone, and come + again and gone a many times. But the shaking earth was his nurse, and she + taught him to dwell in a world that cannot be shaken. + </p> + <div style="height: 6em;"> + <br /><br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> + </div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Rough Shaking, by George MacDonald + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A ROUGH SHAKING *** + +***** This file should be named 8886-h.htm or 8886-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/8/8/8/8886/ + + +Text file produced by Distributed Proofreaders + +HTML file produced by David Widger + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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