The Story of Antony Grace
by George Manville Fenn · English · Gutenberg #36852 · 799,255 chars · public domain (US)
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Title: The Story of Antony Grace
Author: George Manville Fenn
Illustrator: Gordon Browne
Release date: July 25, 2011 [eBook #36852]
Language: English
Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/36852
Credits: Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England
*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE STORY OF ANTONY GRACE ***
Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England
The Story of Antony Grace
By George Manville Fenn
Illustrations by Gordon Browne
Published by D. Appleton and Company, New York.
This edition dated 1888.
The Story of Antony Grace, by George Manville Fenn.
________________________________________________________________________
________________________________________________________________________
THE STORY OF ANTONY GRACE, BY GEORGE MANVILLE FENN.
CHAPTER ONE.
THE MAN IN POSSESSION.
Mr Rowle came the day after the funeral, walking straight in, and,
nodding to cook, who opened the door, hung up his shabby hat in the
hall. Then, to my surprise, he took it down again, and after gazing
into it as Mr Blakeford used to do in his when he came over to our
church, he turned it round, made an offer as if about to put it on wrong
way first, reconsidered the matter, put it on in the regular way, and as
it seemed to me drew his sword.
But it was not his sword, only a very long clay pipe which he had been
carrying up his left sleeve, with the bowl in his hand. Then, thrusting
the said hand into his tail-pocket, he brought out a little roll of
tobacco, upon which was printed, as I afterwards saw, a small woodcut,
and the conundrum, "When is a door not a door?"
"Ho!" said cook; "I suppose you're the--"
"That's just what I am, my dear," said the stranger, interrupting her;
"and my name's Rowle. Introduced by Mr Blakeford; and just fetch me a
light."
"Which you'd best fetch this gentleman a light, Master Antony," said
cook; "for I ain't going to bemean myself."
As she spoke she made a sort of whirlwind in the hall, and whisked
herself out of the place, slamming the door at the end quite loudly.
"Waxey!" said Mr Rowle, looking hard at me, and shutting one eye in a
peculiar way. "Got a light, young un?"
"Yes," I said, feeling sorry that cook should have been so rude to the
visitor; and as I hurried into the study to get a match out of the
little bronze stand, and lit the curled-up wax taper that my father used
to seal his particular letters, I found that Mr Rowle had followed me,
tucking little bits of tobacco in the pipe-bowl as he came.
He then proceeded to look about, stooped down and punched the big
leather-covered chair, uttered a grunt, took the taper, lit his pipe,
and began to smoke.
"Now then, squire," he said, "suppose you and I have a look round."
There was such a calm at-homeness about him that the thought struck me
that he must somehow belong to the place now; and I gazed at him with a
feeling akin to awe.
He was a little man in a loose coat, and his face put me greatly in mind
of the cover of a new spelling-book. He was dressed in black, and his
tail-coat had an enormously high collar, which seemed to act as a screen
to the back of his half-bald head when he sat down, as he did
frequently, to try the different chairs or sofas. It never struck me
that the coat might have been made for another man, but that he had had
it shaped to come down to the tips of his fingers, and so keep him warm.
When he had taken off his hat I had noticed that his hair lay in
streaks across the top of his head, and the idea occurred to me that his
name might be Jacob, because he was in other respects so smooth.
I followed Mr Rowle as he proceeded to have what he called "a look
round," and this consisted in going from room to room, in every one of
which he kept his hat on, and stood smoking as he gradually turned his
eyes on everything it contained, ending with a grunt as of satisfaction
at what he saw.
Every room was taken in turn, even to the kitchen, where our entry
caused a sudden cessation of the conversation round the tea-table, and
the servants turned away their heads with a look of contempt.
"That'll do," said Mr Rowle quietly; then, "Mary, my dear, you can
bring me my tea in the study."
No one answered, and as we went back I remember thinking that if Mr
Rowle was to be the new master at Cedar Hill he would soon send our old
servants away. He walked back, smoking all the time, and seated himself
in my father's chair, staring hard at me the while.
"Shut the door, young un," he said at last, and when I had obeyed, "sit
down, and make your miserable life happy."
My face began to work, and I had to battle hard to keep back the tears,
as for a few minutes I could not speak, but sat there feeling sure Mr
Rowle must think me sulky and strange; and it troubled me, for the old
man seemed disposed to be kind.
"Poor boy!" he said all at once, and his voice seemed to me to come out
of a cloud of smoke; "so you've lost both your father and your mother?"
"Yes, sir!" I said piteously.
"Hah! so have I," said Mr Rowle, and he went on smoking.
I was thinking as I tried to stare at him through the smoke, that this
must have been a very long time ago, when he quite startled me by
seeming to read my thoughts, as he said suddenly:
"Yes; that's a long time ago."
"Yes, sir; I thought it must be," I ventured to say; and then there was
a long silence, during which I sat there wanting to go away, but not
daring to stir, lest Mr Rowle should think me rude, and still he smoked
on.
"I say, young un," he exclaimed, making me start out of a reverie, in
which I was thinking how vexed mamma would have been to see Mr Rowle
smoking in all the bedrooms, "s'pose you'd just come here to stop, which
room should you sleep in?"
"The blue room's the biggest and the best, sir," I said, "but I like the
little pink room the most."
"Hah! then the pink room it must be," he said, sending out such a long
puff of smoke that I wondered how his mouth could have held it all. "I
say, young un, ain't it time Mary brought up my tea?"
"It's past tea-time ever so much," I said, "and her name's Jane."
He took hold of an old brass key hanging at the end of a thin steel
chain, and dragged out a very big old silver watch, looked at it, shook
it, and held it to his ear, and then lowered it down once more into its
particular pocket.
"Then Mary--Jane won't bring it," said Mr Rowle.
As he spoke the door opened, and Jane, our housemaid, exclaimed sharply,
"Now, Master Antony, I want you;" and I rose and followed her into the
dining-room, where my solitary tea was spread out for me. I stood
gazing at it when she left me in a miserable dejected way, for I felt as
if I could not eat, and as if the tea when I poured it out would be
bitter and salt as my tears; and then I began to think about Mr Rowle,
and stole to the door, opened it, and stood listening to the laughing
and talking in the kitchen.
"I wonder whether they will take Mr Rowle his tea," I thought; and I
leaned against the door, listening still, but there was no sign of any
preparation. The strong smoke crept out into the hall, and in
imagination I could see the little yellow man sitting back and smoking
in the chair always used by my father.
At last I summoned up my courage and went to the study door, opened it,
and asked Mr Rowle if he would come and have some tea.
"I will that!" he said with alacrity; "I never despise my beer, but a
cup o' tea's my reglar drink."
He followed me into the dining-room, and we sat down, I feeling very
awkward, especially as Mr Rowle leaned across, lifted the pot, and gave
me his peculiar wink.
"Silver?" he said.
"Yes, sir; and the coffee-pot and basin and jug too," I replied.
"Hah! yes."
It was very awkward, for there was only one teacup and saucer, and I did
not like to ring for another; so I filled that and passed it to Mr
Rowle, who sat smoking all the while.
"Thankye!" he said, nodding, and he was about to pour it into the saucer
when he stopped short. "Hallo!" he said, "where's your'n?"
"I--I have not got another cup," I stammered.
"Worse disasters at sea!" he said. "Never mind; look ye here, I'll have
the saucer and you have the cup," and pouring out the tea, he passed me
back the cup, and the meal went on.
For the first time since his arrival Mr Rowle laid down his pipe, and
after hewing off a great piece of bread, he proceeded to cut it up in
little cubes, all six sides of which he buttered before he ate them,
while I contented myself with a modest slice or two, for my appetite was
gone.
It was a doleful meal, but he seemed to enjoy it, and after partaking of
five or six saucerfuls he nodded at me again, took up and refilled his
pipe, and then walked back to the study, where he sat smoking till ten
o'clock, when he went up to bed.
I'm afraid that I was a very ignorant boy. Perhaps not so in the
ordinary sense of the word ignorant, for I had been fairly educated, and
besides being pretty forward with my Latin, I could have written a
letter or carried on a decent conversation in French; but, living in a
secluded part of the country, I was very ignorant about the matters of
ordinary every-day life, and I found it hard to understand how it was
that Mr Blakeford, the lawyer, should be allowed to do just as he
pleased in our old house.
The terrible misfortunes that had come, one after the other, had seemed
to stun me and take away my breath. One day we seemed to be all so
happy together, and I was sitting reading to my invalid mother in the
pleasant old room opening on to the lawn. And the next day I was
holding my throbbing head in my bedroom, after crying till it ached as
if about to split, while I tried again and again to believe that it was
all some dreadful dream, that my father had been carried home dead,
killed in an instant by a fall from his horse, and that my mother lay
beside him in the darkened room, silent too in death, for the shock had
been too great for her delicate frame.
All that followed seemed to me dreamlike and strange--the darkened house
and the rustling sounds of the black dresses that were made for the
servants; my own new black things and stiff black hat; the terrible
stillness of the place, and the awe with which I used to gaze at the
closed room upstairs; and lastly that dreadful darkest day when I was
the companion of Mr Blakeford and an old uncle in the mourning coach
which followed the hearse with its nodding plumes to the grave.
I wanted to be alone and sit and think, but those about me seemed to
consider that it was their duty to try and comfort and cheer me in my
affliction, when all they did was to worry me and make me more wretched
than before. It troubled me, too, terribly, that people should think me
callous and indifferent to my loss, when all the time my heart was
throbbing, and I felt a sensation of desolation and misery that I tried
my best to conceal.
I remember going on tiptoe towards the dining-room on the day of the
funeral, dreading lest my new boots should make a noise, when, as I
reached the mat at the door, I stopped short, for my uncle was saying
roughly--
"Don't seem to trouble _him_ much."
"No, of course not," Mr Blakeford replied. "What can you expect? I
dare say he's thinking more of his new black clothes."
I had to clench my hands and bite my lips to keep from bursting out into
a passionate fit of weeping, and I stood there for some minutes, unable
to move, as I heard all that was said.
"Well, it's no business of mine," said my uncle. "It was his own
money."
"Yes," said Mr Blakeford, with a sigh. "I was his legal adviser, but
he would not be advised."
"Never would," said my uncle. "All he thought of was catching
butterflies and drying weeds in blotting-paper."
"But he was a good man," said Mr Blakeford.
"Bah! good? What, to plunge into speculation and ruin himself?"
"We are none of us perfect," said Mr Blakeford.
"Who wants to be?" said my uncle. "Well, I wash my hands of the whole
affair. You know where I am if you want me. He was never like a
brother to me. I will do as you said."
"Yes," said Mr Blakeford, "of course. You may trust me, Mr Grace."
"I don't trust anybody," said my uncle, just as one of the servants,
coming along the passage, said kindly--
"Why don't you go in, Master Tony?"
There was a sudden movement of a chair, and I saw Mr Blakeford come
forward and look at me curiously as I entered in a shamefaced way. Then
he exchanged glances with my uncle, and my heart sank as I felt that
they both suspected me of having been listening on the mat.
It was only at nights when I was alone in my own room that I could cry
as a half heart-broken boy of eleven can cry in the desolation of his
heart. My uncle had gone away the day after the funeral, telling me
shortly that I must be a man now, and mind what Mr Blakeford said; and
Mr Blakeford had looked at me in his peculiar way, tightening his thin
lips, and smiling strangely, but saying nothing.
I knew that some arrangements had been made about my future, but though
I was the person most concerned, every one seemed to consider that I was
only a boy, and no explanation was vouchsafed. So it was, then, that I
rambled about the house and grounds almost alone, growing more and more
thoughtful and wretched as the change oppressed me like a weight of
lead.
As the days went on, though, and the first passionate feelings of grief
gave way to a strange sense of despair, I began to take notice of what
was passing around me. It seemed as if the servants in their new black
dresses looked upon the change as a holiday. They had frequent
visitors; there seemed to be always a kind of lunch in progress, and as
I sat alone of an evening I could often hear laughter from the kitchen;
and at last, unable to bear the solitude, I used to go into the study
and sit down and stare at Mr Rowle.
It was not cheerful, even there, for Mr Rowle used to sit and stare at
me. We rarely spoke. Still, it was company, and the old man did
sometimes give me a nod, and say, in allusion to a burst of mirth from
the kitchen--
"They're keeping the game alive, young un?"
CHAPTER TWO.
MR ROWLE AND I BECOME FRIENDS.
As I have said, in the days that followed, I used, when feeling very
lonely, to go and sit and stare at Mr Rowle and he at me. Few words
were spoken, but quite a friendship sprang up between us, and by degrees
I learned what his position really was--that of man in possession,
placed there by Mr Blakeford.
Mr Rowle was not an active busy man, but somehow he had a way with him
that seemed to take charge of everything in the house. I verily believe
that in a few moments he made a mental inventory of the contents of the
room, and he quite offended Jane one morning by ringing the blue-room
bell.
I was with him at the time, and after the ring had been twice repeated,
Jane came bouncing upstairs, and, quite ignoring the presence of Mr
Rowle, addressed herself sharply to me.
"I'm surprised at you, Master Antony, ringing the bells like that,
knowing how busy I am. Whatever do you want?"
"It was me as rung, Jane, my dear," said Mr Rowle. "What's gone of
those two little chayney candlesticks off this table?"
"I've took 'em down to clean, Master Antony, if you must know," said
Jane, addressing me spitefully. "You don't suppose as I've took them
away?"
She looked at me angrily, while I felt as if I had been accusing her
unjustly.
"Oh no, my dear, of course not!" said Mr Rowle. "You're too highly
respectable a girl to do such a thing; but where I was once there was a
housemaid as stole a little bronze pen-tray out of the study, and she
was found out about it, and given into custody of the police, and got
three months."
Jane looked fiercely at him and whisked out of the room.
"Please, Mr Rowle," I said, "the little pen-tray that mamma gave poor
papa has--has--"
I could say no more, for the recollection of that birthday present,
towards which I had subscribed some of my pocket-money, caused such a
choking sensation that I was ready to break down once more, and I had to
strive hard to keep it back.
"Gone out of the study, young un? Oh no, not it. You fancy as it has."
"I'm sure it has gone, sir," I said eagerly. "I was looking for it
yesterday."
"Ah, well, you'll see when we get downstairs," said Mr Rowle, and he
went on from room to room, always sending a few puffs of smoke into
each, till we went downstairs, meeting Jane on the way, looking very hot
and indignant as she carried up the little china candlesticks, and sure
enough, to my great surprise, on entering the study, there was the
pen-tray in its familiar place.
"There; what did I tell you?" said Mr Rowle, laughing. "It was
underneath some papers, or p'raps Jane took it down to give it a rub or
two."
"That must have been it, sir," I said; and I went out to have a walk
round the garden. But somehow everything looked so different: the grass
had not been cut for days, the beds were rapidly growing weedy, and the
flowers and fruit looked so different, or seemed to look so different,
that I was glad to go back into the house, where I found another
stranger, a little dapper, red-faced man, who nodded to me familiarly,
and then resumed a conversation with Mr Rowle.
"My clerk will be here directly," I heard him say, "and we'll soon run
over the inventory."
"The sooner the better, I say, Mr Jevins, sir," said Mr Rowle, "and
then we shall know what we're at."
"You don't mean--" began the newcomer.
"No, sir, I don't, because I've had too sharp a hye on 'em; but there's
one young lady here as wouldn't take nothing out of her reach, and if I
was Mr Blakeford I'd make a clean sweep out, and the sooner the
better."
The little man drew a silver pencil-case out of his pocket, slid out a
pen, and then, taking a little ink-bottle from another pocket, he took
out the cork and balanced it on the top of a china figure; then,
securing the ink-bottle to one of the buttons of his coat by a little
loop, he pulled out a long pocket-book, drew from it an elastic band
with a snap, opened it, and fastened the leaves back with the band, just
as a tall, gaunt, elderly man came in with a pen behind one ear, a
pencil behind the other, making him look in profile like some peculiar
kind of horned snail.
I watched their acts with boyish interest as they proceeded methodically
to set down the contents of room after room, punching the chairs,
turning up the settees, feeling the curtains, and tapping the mirrors,
till at the end of the second day, all being done, they closed their
books with a snap, nodded to me, and after a short chat with Mr Rowle
took their departure.
"Sale's on Toosday week," said that gentleman as I looked at him
inquiringly. "What's going to be done o' you?"
"Done with me?" I said.
"Yes; where are you going to be?"
"I'm going to stop here," I said.
"That can't be, anyhow, young un. Haven't you got any friends?"
"Yes," I said; "there's Dick Wilmot, but he's at school."
"I say, young un, what a precious innocent you are! Haven't you never
been away at school?"
"No, sir."
"Where have you been, then?"
"Here at home with papa and mamma."
"Lor', what a shame, to be sure! Why, you don't seem to know nothin'."
"Indeed I do," I said indignantly. "I can read, and write, and cipher,
and I know a little botany, and Latin, and French, and papa was teaching
me the violin."
"What, the fiddle? Well, that may be some use to you; but as for
t'others, bah! I never found the want of any on 'em. How old are you?"
"Just turned eleven, sir."
"'Leven, and bless your 'art, young un, you're about as innocent as a
baby."
"If you please, sir, I'm very sorry."
"Sorry? So am I. Why, up in London I've seen boys of 'leven as was
reglar old men, and know'd a'most everything. Lookye here, young un,
don't you know as your poor guv'nor died ever so much in debt through
some bank breaking?"
"I heard poor papa say that the bank had shut its doors."
"That's right," said Mr Rowle, nodding. "Well, young un; and don't you
know what that means for you?"
"No, sir," I said.
"Phew?" replied, Mr Rowle, whistling; "well, p'raps it's kindest to
tell you, after all. Why, look here, young un, this place, with every
stick in it, is going to be sold up--plate, linen, furniture, chayney,
glass, and the house and all, and you'll have to go to some of your
friends, unless Mr Blakeford's got his plans made for you."
"Please, sir, I don't think I've got any friends to go to," I said; "I
thought I was going to stay at home--at least, I hoped so," I added
despondently.
"It's a rum go," muttered Mr Rowle, as he raised his hat with one hand
and re-arranged his hair with the stem of his pipe. "Ah, well, I s'pose
I've no call to be putting things into your head, only I should like to
see you not quite so innocent, and better able to look after yourself."
Mr Rowle and I had many such conversations during the interval before
the sale, in all of which he was so much troubled by what he called my
innocence, that I began to look upon my ignorance of the world as
something approaching a crime. I saw no more of Mr Blakeford or my
uncle, and the days glided slowly by till just before the sale, when the
servants came upon me one evening in the dining-room, to announce that
they were going, and to say "good-bye."
"Going?" I said; "what, all?"
"Yes," said cook sharply, and I think there was a twinkle of moisture in
her eyes; "yes, Master Antony, we're all going, and we've come to say
good-bye."
I believe that cook would have taken me in her arms and hugged me in
good motherly fashion, but for the third person. As it was, she shook
hands very warmly and looked tenderly at me for a moment--not more--for
her soul seemed to be aroused within her at the presence of Mr Rowle,
at whom she darted the most furious of glances, an example followed by
the other two maids; and then we were alone.
"Bless 'em!" said Mr Rowle, taking his pipe for a moment from his lips,
and then going on smoking.
CHAPTER THREE.
MR BLAKEFORD SHOWS HIS TEETH.
The morning of the sale arrived, and still no one took any notice of me.
I had stood by in a melancholy fashion, and seen little tickets pasted
or tied upon the various articles of furniture; the stair rods done up
in bundles and the carpets in rolls. The chimney ornaments seemed to be
holding a meeting in a corner of the sideboard recess, presided over by
a bronze Neptune; and apparently deceived by the reflection of the
sunshine, the steel fender had settled itself calmly on a table before
the tall pier-glass as if it were a fire; the pictures looked down in
the most melancholy way from the walls at the doleful chaos of
furniture, all except one of her Majesty the Queen, and that seemed to
follow me in a sorrowful, pitying fashion that made me gaze up at it
again and again.
Wearied with wandering from room to room--all dust and confusion now--I
turned to go upstairs. As I did so I passed the study, whose door was
wide open, with Mr Rowle in the easy-chair smoking away, his hat on,
and the wretchedness of the place with its piled-up bundles of books
seeming to have no effect upon him whatever.
Upstairs matters appeared even worse, though it struck me that the rooms
were not so dusty. After the "view" on the previous day the
auctioneer's men had arranged the things so that they would be handy for
taking downstairs, and the grotesque positions they were now in
suggested endless ideas. Pairs of sheets and blankets hung from pegs
like so many culprits; towel-horses stood upon their heads, while chairs
did acrobatic tricks, one at the bottom sustaining four or five piled up
in a state of equilibrium; the tooth-brush trays all seemed to have been
frightened into taking refuge in the ewers; while the bedsteads and
toilet-tables appeared to think the place so dirty and untidy that they
were holding up their trailing garments to keep them from being soiled.
On the previous day I had taken refuge in my favourite haunt, the
summer-house, till the strangers had gone, and now, hearing the
auctioneer's men below, I was hurriedly taking a farewell glance round
before once more making my retreat.
I had heard footsteps on the stairs, and supposed it to be one of the
owners of the carpet-caps and aprons that lay tucked in a corner, when
suddenly passing out of one of the bedrooms into the passage I came face
to face with Mr Blakeford.
"Oh! you're there, are you?" he said, in quite an ill-used tone, as if
he had been hunting for me for days. "Why, where have you been hiding
yourself?"
"Please, sir, I've been here all the time."
"It's false, sir. How dare you tell me such a lie! I was hunting for
you all day yesterday and you were not here. I supposed you had run
away."
"If you please, sir," I said, "I was in the summer-house--indeed!"
"Then how dare you tell me, sir, that you were here! Now look here,
Master Antony Grace; don't you try to trifle with me, for I'm not the
man to be played with. You've been allowed to grow up in sloth,
ignorance, and idleness; and now that out of pure charity I am going to
take you into my office, you had better try to make yourself of some
use, unless you want to be turned adrift and starved;" and he bent down
and shook his finger in my face.
"Come to your office, sir?" I cried, wondering.
"Come to my office, sir, yes," he snarled. "What else were you going to
do? Did you think you were going to spend your life sticking pins
through butterflies and running about picking buttercups and daisies, as
you did with your defrauding scoundrel of a father?"
"How dare you say that!" I cried, as a fierce burst of passion swept
over me at hearing him speak thus of my poor dead father.
I have some recollection of rushing at him with clenched fists, and
being caught roughly by a strong hand, of being shaken, my ears sharply
boxed, and of being then thrown panting, sobbing, and half heart-broken
upon the floor, as Mr Blakeford stood over me.
"That's your temper, is it, you young dog?" he cried; "but I'll soon
tame that down. What, am I to lose thousands of pounds by your cheating
scoundrel of a father, and then, when to save his wretched brat from
starvation I have arranged to give him a home, I am to have him turn and
rend me? But I'll soon cure all that, my fine fellow. You've got the
wrong man to deal with, and it was quite time your career of spoiled
child was over."
He turned and left the room, and after crouching there sobbing for a few
minutes, I got up in a stunned, hopeless way, brushed the dust off my
clothes, and as I turned I caught a glimpse of my hot red face and wet
eyes in the glass.
I was hastily removing the traces of the childish tears when I smelt the
pungent odour of tobacco, and my first impulse was to run away and hide;
but there was no way of escape, and I had to turn round and face Mr
Rowle, who stood smoking in the doorway.
"What's he been leathering you for?" he said, without removing his pipe.
"I--I struck him!" I panted out, trembling with shame and indignation.
"You? You hit Lawyer Blakeford?" he said, with a broad grin
overspreading his face. "Come, I like that. I didn't think there was
so much stuff in you."
"He--he--said false things about my poor dead father," I faltered.
"And you tried to punch his head for it, young 'un; and serve him right,
that's what I say. Never mind: cheer up, young un; you'll grow a man
some day, see if you don't. But, I say, look here, where are you going
to stay? The house'll be full of people directly."
"I'm--I'm to go to Mr Blakeford--to his office, he says."
"Whee-ew!" whistled Mr Rowle. "That's it, is it? Your guv'nor owed
him money, eh, and he's going to take it out of you? I say, young un,
you're in for it."
"Am I, sir?" I said, in a dull, despairing way, for I understood by his
words that my future was not to be a very pleasant one, but just then I
heard Mr Blakeford's voice below, and Mr Rowle gave me a friendly nod
and turned away, while I stood listening, expecting to be called.
I can recall those feelings that came over me to this day--shame,
mortification, wounded pride, misery, and despair. What was to become
of me? How could I ever live with a man who spoke so cruelly of one who
had always been so firm and yet so gentle with me? No mother, no
father, no one to say one kind and encouraging word to me but that poor
rough man in possession, towards whom in those hours of misery my young
heart went out with all its passion of childlike affection.
I was half stunned. Had I been so idle and spoiled a boy? I did not
know, only that I had been very happy--that every lesson had been a
pleasure, and those summer-day entomological and botanical rambles with
my father times of joy and delight. It was all a puzzle, too, about my
father and Mr Blakeford and their money matters, and of course I was
too young to comprehend the legal instruments which empowered the
solicitor to take possession of everything of which my father died
possessed.
The entry of one of the porters made me creep hurriedly away, and going
downstairs, I found room after room filling with the people coming to
the sale, with the result that I crept into the garden and down the old
laurel walk to the little summer-house at the bottom, where I shut
myself in to lean my head against my arm and try to check the miserable
tears that would come.
It was very weak and girlish, but I was only eleven, and during the past
few days there had been so much to give me pain. I was heartily ashamed
of my weakness, feeling all the time a kind of instinct that I ought to
be more manly, and trying hard to become so, though now I can smile at
the thought of the little, slight boy of eleven battling with his
natural emotions, and striving to school them to his will.
It was very quiet and lonely down there, and in a few minutes I felt
calmer and better, seating myself and wondering whether I ought not to
go up and look for Mr Blakeford, as I watched the robin--an old friend
of mine--hopping about amongst the twigs.
Perhaps it was a foolish idea. But it seemed to me then as if that
bird, as it gazed at me with its large round eyes, could feel for my
sorrow, and I felt a kind of envy of the little thing's freedom from
pain and care.
While I sat there thinking in my despondent way, the low humming of
voices up at the house came to me, and now and then I could hear steps
on the gravel paths, but that leading up to the summer-house was of
short turf, so that I was suddenly surprised by hearing a fresh young
voice exclaim:
"Oh, look here, mamma! What a nice summer-house!"
"Yes, my dear," said some one, in cold, harsh tones. "The Graces knew
pretty well how to take care of themselves. I haven't patience with
such ways."
I jumped up angrily to go away, but I was too late, for the door opened
suddenly, and I was face to face with a young girl of about my own age,
and a tall thin lady, with a careworn, ill-used expression of
countenance; and as she seemed to know who I was, she caught the girl's
arm and gave her a snatch, exclaiming:
"Come away, Hetty; it's young Grace."
The girl took her eyes unwillingly from mine, and as she accompanied the
lady away, she turned round once, and I fancied I read in her looks
sorrow for my position, and a desire to come and lay her little hand in
mine.
I sat all through that dreary day alone, and getting faint and hungry--
though my memories of my encounter with Mr Blakeford kept me from
thinking much about the latter, and it must have been nearly five
o'clock when the door once more opened, and Mr Rowle stood there,
holding a bundle tied up in a red handkerchief in one hand; his pipe in
the other.
"Why, here you are then, young 'un," he said. "I thought old Blakeford
had carried you off. Lookye here! you're just right. I'm going to have
a bit of wittles down here in peace, and you'll join in."
As he unfastened the bundle handkerchief and displayed a pork pie and a
small loaf, he took a couple of table-knives from his tail-pocket.
"Borrowed," he said, holding them up. "They're a part of lot hundred
and forty-seven. Stop a moment, let's make sure."
One hand dived into the breast-pocket of his old coat to bring out a
dirty catalogue, leaf after leaf of which he turned over, and then,
running a dirty thumb down one page he read out:
"Lot hundred and forty-seven: sixteen black--No, that ain't it. Here it
is, young 'un. Lot hundred and fifty-seven: two dozen and seven ivory
balance-handle knives. Them's them, and they won't be none the worse
for my using on 'em."
Mr Rowle's intentions were most friendly, but I could hardly eat a
mouthful, and I was sitting watching him making heavy onslaughts upon
the loaf when I heard Mr Blakeford's voice calling me, and I started
up, feeling as if I must run away.
"What are you up to?" said Mr Rowle, with his mouth full.
"Let me go," I cried excitedly. "Let me run somewhere."
"Gammon! Why, what for? You go out like a man and meet him, and if he
gives it to you again, why, there, if I was you I'd take it like a man,
that I would."
I hesitated for a moment, and then took my rough friend's advice by
going out into the garden, where I found Mr Blakeford with a black bag
in his hand.
"Take that," he said harshly, and threw the bag towards me.
I was taken by surprise, caught at and dropped the bag, which burst
open, and a number of papers tied with red tape fell out.
"Bah! you clumsy oaf," he exclaimed angrily. "There, pick them up."
I hastily stooped, gathered them together, and tremblingly replaced the
packets in the bag, and as soon as it was closed followed my new master
towards the gate, through which he passed to where a man was holding a
thin pony attached to a shabby four-wheeled chaise.
"Jump up behind," he said; and I climbed into the back seat, while he
took the reins, got into the front, and fumbled in one pocket. "Here,
catch!" he cried to the man, as he gave the reins a shake. The pony
started off, and we had not gone a dozen yards before something hard hit
me in the back, and turning sharply, I saw one of the big old-fashioned
penny-pieces fall into the road, while the man who had thrown it after
us was making a derisive gesture at Mr Blakeford, by which I concluded
that he was dissatisfied with the amount that had been given him.
"Sold badly, very badly," Mr Blakeford kept muttering, and at every
word he gave the reins a jerk which made the pony throw up its head; and
so he kept on muttering during our four-miles ride into the town, when
he drove into a little yard where a rough-looking man was waiting, threw
him the reins, and then turned to me.
"Jump down, and bring that bag."
I jumped down, and as I did so leaped aside, for a large dog rushed out
to the full extent of his chain and stood baying at me, till Mr
Blakeford gave him a kick, and he disappeared into a kennel that had
once been green. I followed the lawyer through a side door and into a
blank-looking office cut in two by a wooden partition topped with little
rails, over which hung old and new posting-bills, many of which papered
the wall, so that look which way I would my eye rested on, "To be sold
by auction," "Estate," or "Property," in big black letters.
On one side of the partition were a high double desk and a couple of
tall stools; on the other some cocoa-nut matting, a table covered with
papers, a number of shelves on which stood black-japanned boxes, each of
which had upon it somebody's name or only initials in white letters,
with perhaps the word "Exors." after them; while on the chimney-piece
were a letter-weigher, two or three large ink-bottles, and a bundle of
quill pens.
It was growing dusk, and Mr Blakeford struck a match and lit a gas-jet
over the fireplace, just in front of a yellow-looking almanack; and now
I could see that the place was one litter of papers, parchments, and
dust, save at the end, which was occupied by a bookcase full of great
volumes all bound in leather about the colour of Mr Rowle's skin.
"Sit down there," he said shortly, and he pointed to one of the tall
stools by the great desk; and as I climbed upon it he picked up the bag
I had placed upon the desk, threw it upon the table, and walked out of
the place.
"Like a man--take it like a man," I said to myself as I recalled Mr
Rowle's words; and, pressing my teeth tightly and clenching my fists, I
sat there fighting down the depressing feelings that came upon me in a
flood, and wondering what I should have to do.
My musings were interrupted by the loud entry at the end of about half
an hour of a cross-looking servant-girl, who banged a small tray
containing a mug and a plate of bread and butter down before me.
"There's your tea," she said roughly; "and look here, I'm not going to
wait on you. Bring the mug to the kitchen when you've done, and you'll
have to fetch it in future."
I looked up at her very wistfully as she scowled at me, but I did not
speak.
"Sulky, eh?" she said. "You'll soon get that taken out of you here, I
can tell you."
With these words she whisked herself out of the office, the swing-door
creaked dismally and banged behind her, and I was left to enjoy my meal.
At first I felt that I could not touch it, but I was faint and hungry,
and after a few mouthfuls a boy's young healthy appetite asserted
itself, and I drank all the mean thin tea and finished the bread and
butter.
Then I remembered that I was to take the things back to the kitchen.
Where was the kitchen, and dare I leave that stool without Mr
Blakeford's orders?
I felt that I dare not, and therefore sat there patiently gazing about
the room, my eyes resting longest on those bills which told of sales of
furniture, as I wondered whether those who had belonged to the furniture
had died and left a son alone in the world, as I seemed to be just then.
There was a clock, I found, in one corner--an old Dutch clock--that
ticked away in a very silent, reserved fashion, giving further every
hour a curious running-down noise, as if it were about to strike; but
though I watched it patiently as the minute-hand passed on, it never
fulfilled the expectations given, but confined itself to its soft
subdued _tick, tick, tick, tick_, hour after hour.
Seven, eight, nine, ten had been marked off by that clock, and still I
sat there, waiting, and wondering whether I was to sleep there as well
as to have my meals; and then I heard a door bang, the sound of a
footstep, and with a great tin candlestick in his hand Mr Blakeford
entered the room.
CHAPTER FOUR.
I BECOME A LAWYER'S CLERK.
"This way!" he said abruptly, and there was a curious look in his face
that I could not understand. "Here, hold this," he cried, thrusting the
candlestick into my hand; and I held it trembling as he crossed
unsteadily to the gas-jet, turned it down, and then strode out of the
office.
"There!" he said, opening a door, "up there; and get down in good time.
You'll have to clean the boots and things."
"Up there" was up a flight of steps which led into a low sloping-ceiled
chamber that had been evidently meant for a lumber-room, but had now
been fitted up with an old stump bedstead with a coloured counterpane, a
little corner washstand with a cracked jug, a strip of carpet, and a
three-legged painted chest of drawers, which had gone down at one
corner, and left a corresponding leg slightly raised in the air.
The place was cold and miserable, chilling to a degree, but it was
clean; and as I looked round I was surprised by seeing on a chair a heap
of my clothes and a brush and comb.
I had just finished looking round when I heard a noise below.
"You Antony!" shouted Mr Blakeford; "mind you put that candle out
safely, and look sharp into bed."
I obeyed by hastily undressing and putting out the candle to get quickly
into bed. It was not to lie down, but, after once more battling with my
weakness, to offer up the simple prayers I had been taught, and then,
still upon my knees, but with my head drooping on to the pillow, falling
fast asleep.
I awoke terribly depressed at daybreak, to listen to some noisy fowls
close by, and then I could hear that the rain was pattering heavily
down.
Ought I to get up then, or should I lie a little longer? I could not
tell, but I recollected Mr Blakeford's words, and as I did so the same
wretched despondent feeling came over me as I thought of my
helplessness, and trembled, feeling sure I should give offence.
There are few people who thoroughly realise the sufferings of a tenderly
nurtured, sensitive boy when first called upon to battle with the world
amongst unsympathising strangers. He is only a boy in their eyes, and
they fail to give him credit for the same feelings as themselves, when
too often he is far more finely strung, and suffers acutely from every
unkind word and look. The very act of going from home is distressing
enough, but when it is supplemented by his finding himself forced to
make his first _essays_ in some uncongenial task to which his hands and
the brain that should guide are totally unaccustomed, a feeling of
despair often takes possession of his young spirit, and is accompanied
by a hopeless despondency that is long before it wears away.
I had had painful afflictions enough during the past weeks, so that I
was anything but well prepared for my new life. Besides, I had been
badly fed, and the natural sinking caused by the want of proper food
terribly augmented my sense of misery.
The rain pattered down on the slates and skylight, while the water ran
along the gutter and gurgled strangely in a pipe close to the corner
where my bed was placed, as I lay wondering what I had better do. The
office was below me, with its silent clock, but perhaps I should not be
doing right, I thought, if I got up and went down to see the time.
Perhaps, too, the place might be locked up.
I lay thinking in this undecided way till all my doubts were set aside,
for there was a loud continuous ringing just outside my door, one which
was kept up as if some angry person were sawing away at the wire with
the full intention of dragging it down.
It agonised me as I jumped out of bed and began hastily to dress, for I
felt as if it must be to rouse me up, and as if I had inadvertently been
guilty of some lapse.
The bell stopped ringing as suddenly as it had begun, and with a feeling
of relief I continued dressing, but only to start nervously as I heard
Mr Blakeford's voice at the foot of the stairs shouting my name.
"Do you hear that bell, sir?" he cried.
"Yes, sir."
"Then make haste down; don't be all the morning dressing."
Then there was the loud banging of a door, and I hastily finished, and
went down cautiously, found the office door at the end of the dim
passage, and was just going in when the sharp voice of the servant
arrested me.
"Here, you--what's your name?" she said harshly.
"Antony, ma'am."
"Ho! Then, Mister Antony, missus says you're to make yourself useful.
They've pretty well worked the flesh off my bones since I've been here,
so you must just help to put a little on."
I looked at her in amazement, and she certainly was not at all
prepossessing, being a tall raw-boned woman of some three or four and
twenty, in a hastily-put-on cotton dress, her hair rough and untidy, and
displaying a general aspect of having spent as little time as possible
upon her toilet.
"Now, then, don't stand staring like that!" she said. "Come along here,
and fill this scuttle."
She led the way into the kitchen and pointed to a large coalscuttle,
which I had to take and fill for her, after which she seemed to hesitate
as to whether she should place the broom she held in my hands; but,
probably under the impression that it would save her no trouble, she
altered her mind, and went and fetched a large pair of dirty Wellington
boots, which she threw down upon the floor.
"There, go into that shed and clean them and your own too, and mind you
do 'em well," she cried. "He's a reg'lar wunner about his boots."
My experience in boot-cleaning consisted in having seen the groom at
home occasionally polish a pair, so I was no adept: but hastily setting
to, I worked hard at the task, and succeeded indifferently well with the
big Wellingtons before bestowing the same pains upon my own shoes.
I need hardly say that I was not very quick over my task, and so it
happened that when I returned to the kitchen the fire was brightly
burning, the kettle boiling, and my new friend, or enemy, seated at her
breakfast.
"There, you can put 'em down," she said, with her mouth full of bread
and butter. "And now you'd best go and wait in the orfice till he
comes. You're too much of a gent, I s'pose, to have meals with me?"
"I'm sure I don't know," I said, rather piteously.
"Don't you? Well, then, I do. You're to have your victuals in the
orfice, and I s'pose they'll send some out to you when they're done,
seeing as you're took here out o' charity."
I felt a red spot burn in each cheek at these words, but I said nothing,
only went sadly to the office, which looked terribly dim and gloomy in
the morning light. The dust lay thick upon bill and parchment, and the
drab books with their red patches upon their backs I could see by this
light were old, discoloured, and worn.
Judging from the appearance of the place, in spite of the ink marks and
well-stained blotting-paper, there was not much work carried on there,
though, of course, I could not judge that then. All that struck me was
that the place looked most melancholy, and that a gloomy yew-tree that
half shaded one window was heavily laden with drops of rain.
Seeing my mug and plate upon the big desk, I remembered the words of the
servant, and hastened to take them to the kitchen, where I was received
with a scowl, and hastened to retreat back to the office.
I had been standing there about an hour, and had just noticed that the
clock pointed to half-past eight, when I heard a light step behind me,
and, turning round, there stood the girl I had seen in the garden at
home.
Her bright, fresh young face was the first pleasant thing upon which my
eyes had rested since I came the night before, and as we stood gazing at
each other it seemed to me that I could read sympathy and welcome in her
frank smile.
"Good-morning," she said quietly, and held out her hand, which I was in
the act of taking, when a wiry sharp voice cried loudly--
"Hetty! Hetty! where are you?"
"Here, mamma," cried my visitor.
"Then you've no business there," cried the same voice; and the owner--to
wit, the lady I had seen in the garden--came in. "Go back to the
parlour directly, miss; and mind this, you are never to come in here at
all."
The girl looked eagerly at me again, nodded, and tripped away, leaving a
hopeful feeling behind that I could not explain.
"So you are young Grace," said the lady, whom I presumed to be Mrs
Blakeford, and I gazed wonderingly at her pained wrinkled face and
weak-looking, wandering eyes. "Mind this: you are to keep in the
office. I won't have you in my rooms; and Mr Blakeford says you are
not to be in the kitchen on account of the neighbours' remarks. I'm
sure I don't know why we study people who never study us; and I'm
pinched enough for money now, without having you thrown on to my
housekeeping."
"Now then, what are you doing there?" cried Mr Blakeford harshly, as he
entered in his slippers. "Go and make the tea; what do you want to
begin chattering to that boy for about our private affairs?"
Mrs Blakeford muttered something about being always wrong, and turned
to go.
"Always wrong? Of course you are, when you will come meddling with what
don't concern you. Now then," he cried, turning sharply round to me,
"what are you staring at? Get a cloth and rub down that desk and table.
Can't you see how dusty they are?"
"Yes, sir," I said, for it was very evident. "Then why don't you go and
do it, blockhead?"
I started to perform the task in great alarm; but I had no duster, and
dared not ask him. Fortunately he was called away just then to his
breakfast; but he seemed to me to be there still, gazing at me with his
keen dark eyes, while his tightly closed thin lips seemed as if they
were about to be drawn aside to bite.
As soon as I was alone I stole into the kitchen to ask for a duster.
"Don't bother me; can't you see I'm making toast?" was my greeting.
I could see she was making toast, and my attention was further called to
it by the sharp ringing of a bell.
"Ah, ring away," said the woman, going on with her task. "You may ring
the bell down, and then I shan't come till the toast's done, do now
then!"
"Please, Mary, is the--"
I turned upon hearing the pleasant little voice again, which stopped
short as I looked round, and our eyes met once more.
"No, Miss Hetty, my dear, the toast ain't done," said the woman more
softly; "and you may tell your ma that if she is in a hurry she must
wait till her hurry's over."
"Don't be cross, Mary," said the child; and tripping across the kitchen,
she ran up to where the woman was kneeling before the fender, kissed her
cheek, and tripped out again.
"They may thank her for it, that they may," grumbled Mary, as if
speaking to the fire, "for if it wasn't for her I wouldn't stop a day
longer in their nasty, disagreeable old house. There!"
The toast was by this time done, and Mary was scraping away at a burnt
spot, when the bell began to ring more violently than before, with the
result that, instead of running off with the toast, Mary deliberately
placed it upon the fender and went across to one of the dresser drawers,
out of which she took a clean duster.
"Ring away!" she grumbled. "There's a duster for you, boy. And look
here; you must be hungry. Stop a minute and I'll cut you a slice. Ah,
ring away! You don't frighten me."
To my horror, she coolly spread thickly a slice of bread, cut it, and
handed it to me before buttering the toast with which she at last
crawled out of the kitchen, while I literally fled to the office, laid
the bread and butter on the desk, and stopped to listen.
At the end of half an hour the bell rang again, and soon after Mary came
sulkily into the office with a mug of half-cold weak tea and some lumps,
not slices, of bread and butter. These she thrust before me, and I was
sadly making my breakfast when Mr Blakeford entered the place.
"Come, make haste!" he said sharply; and as I glanced up at him I read
in his face that for some reason or another he had taken a great dislike
to me. I could not tell then, nor did I know for long afterwards, why
this was; but it grew more evident hour by hour that he hated the sight
of my anxious young face, and that my sojourn with him was to be far
from pleasant.
He took his seat at the table while I tried to finish my breakfast, but
his coming had completely taken away my appetite, and at the end of a
few minutes I hastened to take the mug and plate to the kitchen, and
then returned to the office.
"Now, sir," Mr Blakeford began, "just look here. Your father owed me a
large sum of money when he died, and I have taken you on here quite out
of compassion. Do you hear?"
"Yes, sir," I faltered.
"Well, you've got to learn to be of use to me as soon as you can. You
can write, I suppose?"
"Yes, sir--not very well," I faltered.
"Of course you can't. No boy brought up as you have been, without going
to a school, could be expected to write a decent hand. But look here,
you'll have to try and write well; so take that paper to the desk and
copy it out in a neat round hand."
I took the paper with trembling hands, climbed to the desk, spread the
sheet of foolscap ready upon a big piece of blotting-paper, and took up
one of the pens before me.
Those were the days before steel nibs had become common, and the pen I
took was a quill split up and spoiled.
I took another and another, but they were all the same; and then,
glancing at the inkstand, I found that it was dry.
I hardly dared to do it, but he glanced up at me to see if I had begun,
and I ventured to say that there was neither pen nor ink.
"Of course not, blockhead. Get down and fetch some off the
chimney-piece."
I gladly obeyed; and then, resuming my seat, with the words on the paper
dancing before my eyes, made my first essay as Mr Blakeford's clerk.
The writing before me was not very distinct, but I managed to decipher
it pretty well, getting a little puzzled as to the meaning of "ads." and
"exors.," with various other legal contractions, but after the first
line or two going steadily on, for, bad as my education had been, I was
able to write a boy's neat round hand, consequent upon often copying out
lists for my father, or names to label the collections we made.
I had been writing about half an hour, working away diligently enough,
when I heard the chair on the other side of the partition scroop, and
Mr Blakeford came up behind me. I fully expected a severe scolding or
a blow when he took up my sheet of foolscap and scanned it over, but he
threw it down before me again with a grunt.
Soon afterwards he rose and went out, leaving me busy over my task,
writing till I grew giddy and my head began to ache.
About the middle of the day Mary came in with some bread and meat; and
about six o'clock there was another mug of thin tea and some pieces of
bread and butter. Then the night came on, the gas was lighted, and I
finished my first day in what seemed to be, and really was, as I look
back upon it now, little better than a prison.
The days crept slowly by as I took my place each morning at the desk,
finding always something fresh to copy in a neat round hand, and at this
I patiently toiled on, with my old griefs growing more dull as a little
hope began to arise that I might soon see little Hetty to speak to
again; but though from time to time I heard the voice and the sound of a
piano upon which some one was industriously practising, she never came
near the office.
Mr Blakeford seemed as brutal to everyone in the house as he was to me.
The only person who did not seem afraid of him was Mary, and upon her
his angry scoldings had no effect whatever. To me she was harsh and
uncouth as on my first arrival, but, seeing that the amount given me for
my meals was disgracefully small, after the first week she did take care
that I had a sufficiency of food, although it only took one form.
I remember upon one occasion, having to go to the kitchen door, and
finding her muttering angrily to herself, while upon seeing me she
exclaimed:
"They've been going on about too much butter being used again. Come
here!"
I went closer to her, and she hurried into the larder, and came out with
a roll of fresh butter and a new loaf, cutting off a thick piece and
plastering it excessively with butter.
"There!" she exclaimed, "you go back into the office, and don't you show
your face here again until you've eaten up every scrap of that. I'll
teach 'em to grumble about the butter."
From that day forward Mary was always cutting me great slices of new
bread and thickly spreading them with butter.
"There," she used to say ungraciously, "I don't like boys, but they
shan't half-starve you while I'm here."
I was so moved by her unexpected kindness--for it really was done out of
goodness of heart--that, having become somewhat hardened to being a
confederate in this unlawful acquisition of provender, on one occasion I
threw my arms round her neck and kissed her.
"Why, you impudent young scamp, what d'yer mean?" she exclaimed, in
astonishment.
"Please, Mary," I said, "I didn't mean to be impudent; it was because
you were so good to me."
"Good? Stuff!" she said roughly, "I'm not good. There, get along with
you, and don't you do that again."
I certainly should have run a good chance of being half-starved but for
Mary and another friend.
One day when I opened my desk, I found just inside it a plate with an
appetising piece of pudding therein, and concluded that it was Mary's
doing; but I could not be sure, for her benevolence always took the form
of thick slices of bread and butter.
The next day there was a piece of cake; another day some apples;
another, a couple of tartlets; and at last I determined to hide and see
who was the donor of these presents, so welcome to a growing boy. I had
made up my mind at last that they came from Hetty, and I was right; for
going inside the large paper cupboard one day, instead of going out to
fetch the newspaper according to custom, this being one of my new
duties, I saw the office door gently open and Hetty's little head
peering cautiously in. Then, satisfied that no one was near, she ran
lightly to the big desk; I heard it shut down hastily, and then there
was a quiet rustling noise, the office door closed and she was gone.
This went on regularly, and at last one day it occurred to me that I
should like to make her a present in return. I had a few shillings, the
remains of my pocket-money, and I turned over in my own mind what I
should give her. Cakes or sweets I voted too trifling, a doll too
childish. What should I buy then? Suddenly I recollected that there
were in a window in the little town some pretty silver brooches formed
like a knot of twisted ribbon, and one of these I determined to buy.
It took three out of my five shillings; but it looked very pretty in its
little box, reposing on pink cottonwool; and having secured it, I
returned to my copying at the desk, to think out how I could make my
gift.
Nothing was more simple. I wrapped up the little box neatly in a
quarter-sheet of foolscap, sealed it with the office wax, and directed
it in my best hand to "Miss Hetty Blakeford. From one who is very
grateful."
I felt very conscious and excited as I finished and laid it in the
bottom of the desk, just where the presents were always placed for me,
and to my great delight, when I looked again there was a plate of tart
which the poor child had saved from her own dinner, and the packet was
gone.
CHAPTER FIVE.
MR BLAKEFORD SUFFERS, AND I CATCH THE ECHO.
My life at Mr Blakeford's knew but little change. It was one regular
monotonous occupation--copy, copy, copy, from morning till night; and
but for stolen bits of reading I believe I should have gone melancholy
mad. I had no companions of my own age, no older friends to whom I
could confide my troubles or ask for advice. Mr Blakeford was always
stern and repellent; Mrs Blakeford, on the rare occasions when I
encountered her, ill-used, and ready to say something about my being an
extra expense. Only at rare intervals did I see little Hetty, and then
it would be in the street, when I had been sent to the post, to fetch
stamps, or on some such errand. Then I had a smile and a pleasant look
to think about till our next encounter.
A year glided by in this fashion, during which time, in spite of his
constant complaints, I must have grown very useful to Mr Blakeford, for
my handwriting was clear and firm, and I copied a great many documents
in the course of the month.
He was as brutal to me as ever, and never lost an opportunity of abusing
me for my being an incumbrance, or saying something which sent me
miserable to my room.
My tender point, and he knew it well enough, was an allusion to my
father's debt to him; and afterwards, when I went up wretched and
low-spirited to bed, I used to make a vow that some day or another I
would save enough money to pay him all my father owed, and so free his
memory from what the lawyer always told me was a disgrace.
Quite eighteen months had elapsed, when it became evident to me that Mr
Blakeford was in some trouble with one of his clients. This latter, a
tall florid-looking farmer, had, as I learned from what I heard of their
conversation, borrowed money from my employer upon some security, with
the understanding that payment was not to be enforced so long as the
heavy interest was provided for.
Mr Blakeford's business seemed to consist a great deal in
money-lending, and every now and then my old acquaintance, Mr Rowle,
came to the office for instructions, and found time for a friendly chat.
Upon this occasion I noticed that Mr Blakeford was very anxious about
the coming of some one to the office, and he spent a good deal of time
in watching from one of the windows.
He was sternly examining a piece of copying that I had just finished,
when there came three heavy knocks with a stick upon the outer door of
the office.
Mr Blakeford turned yellow, and, catching me by the arm, whispered--
"It's Mr Wooster. Antony, say I'm not at home. Say I've gone out.
Quick."
He pushed me towards the door, and I went to open it just as there were
three more heavy knocks, and on drawing back the fastening, there stood
Mr Wooster, the stout, tall, farmer-looking man, scowling and angry.
"Where's Mr Blakeford?" he cried, catching me fiercely by the collar,
and shaking a stout ash stick he carried.
"Please, sir--" I began.
"It's a lie!" he roared; "he's not out. Didn't he tell you to say he
was out?"
"Yes, sir," I faltered, and he strode straight in; and as I followed, I
saw him catch Mr Blakeford by the throat and pin him in his chair.
"Fetch the constable, Antony," cried Mr Blakeford. "Quick!"
"Stop where you are, you young dog," roared the farmer, "or I'll kill
you. Now, you scoundrel, what do you mean by seizing my goods, by
putting your rascally man in possession after promising me in this
office that you would never put me to any inconvenience?"
"If you have any complaint to make against me, Mr Wooster, employ your
solicitor," cried Mr Blakeford hoarsely.
"Hang your solicitor and the whole crew, you scoundrelly serpent!"
roared the farmer. "You've ruined me, as you ruined that poor boy's
father, and a score more before him."
"Antony--a constable--help!" cried Mr Blakeford, for he was yellow and
green with fear.
"If Antony Grace stirs, I'll crush him like I would a snail," cried the
farmer. "And now look here, you crawling snake; I trusted you because I
didn't believe any one could deliberately ruin another for the sake of a
few pounds."
"Mr Wooster, if you dare to strike me," cried the miserable coward, "I
shall proceed against you for assault."
"So you may," cried the farmer, with a bitter laugh; "and as you've got
every penny I had, much good may it do you. Look here, Blakeford; if I
knew that I should be transported for life to Botany Bay for what I'm
going to do, I'd do it now."
As he spoke, he spat in his hand, took a fresh grip of the ash stick,
and, in spite or Mr Blakeford's cries for help and mercy, he thrashed
him till the stick broke in pieces; and then, taking him by the collar
with both hands, he shook him till he was tired, and ended by throwing
him back in his chair.
"There!" cried the farmer; "now do your worst, you cheating scoundrel.
I'm satisfied; go and satisfy yourself, and much good may the money you
have stolen from the poor, the fatherless, and the widow do you."
As he said this he strode out of the office and banged the door.
I was half stunned with fear and horror, and I remember how thankful I
felt that I had seen Mrs Blakeford go out with Hetty half an hour
before. While the thrashing was going on Mary had opened the door and
looked in, but as if it were no business of hers, she had gone out
again, and I was left the sole spectator.
"Are you much hurt, sir?" I said in trembling tones as soon as we were
alone.
"Yes," he whispered hoarsely, and showing his teeth, "a good deal."
"Shall I get you something, sir?"
"Yes," he said, panting less hoarsely, "fetch that leather case out of
the passage."
I ran and fetched the heavy leather-covered box he meant, and placed it
beside him, watching him anxiously, to see if he were better.
"Now, fasten both the doors," he whispered, laying his hand upon his
breast to keep down the panting as he drew his breath more easily, and
wiped the perspiration from his face.
I obeyed him, and then returned to his side.
"Now unfasten that case, Antony," he said in quite a faint whisper; and
going down on one knee I unbuckled a thick strap that was round it, and
was about to raise the lid, but it was locked.
"That will do," he said, suddenly changing his tone as he seized me by
the jacket collar with one hand, the strap with the other. "You young
villain!" he hissed; "you dog! Didn't I tell you to say I was out, and
you let that bully in? I'll give you such a lesson as you will never
forget."
I was half stupefied as he raised the thick strap, and then brought it
heavily down in blow after blow, cutting me all over the body, across
the face, hands, legs, anywhere, and causing the most intense pain. I
writhed and twined and screamed out under the first few blows in my
agony; then a feeling of blind passion came over me, and I caught at and
struggled with him for the possession of the strap, but in vain; for he
kept me at bay with one hand and continued to beat me cruelly till I
fell and then, placing one foot upon my chest, he beat me again till his
arm fell in weariness to his side.
"I'll teach you to mind me another time," he panted, as he gloated over
me in his pitiful revenge for the beating he had himself received.
"I'll give you something to remember this day by;" and, as I rose, he
once more began to strike me; but this time I caught at the strap and
held it with hands and teeth, twisting it round me and holding on while
he strove to drag it away.
My resistance seemed to half madden him as I still held on.
"Let go, you dog!" he roared, "let go!" but I held on the more tightly;
when, beside himself with rage, as a loud knocking came now at the inner
door, he caught up a heavy office ruler from the table and struck me so
cruel a blow across the head that I staggered backwards, and should have
fallen to the floor if the door had not been dashed in and Mary caught
me up.
CHAPTER SIX.
UNDER MARY'S MASK.
"You great coward!" she cried in a rage, as, sick, faint, and heavy, and
seeing everything now as in a dream, I was lifted in her stout arms.
"Leave this room, woman!" I heard him say.
"Yes, and your house too, you wretch?" she retorted; and then I heard no
more till I seemed to wake in a heavy, dull, throbbing fashion in the
kitchen, where some one seemed to be wetting my head with water smelling
very strongly of pickles.
The place looked as if it was early morning, and the walls, with the
dresser, plates, and tureens, and the bright tin dish-covers, seemed to
be going round and round, but not regularly, for it was as if they went
up and down in a wavy billowy way, and all the time I seemed to feel
terribly sick.
"Oh, if I was a man!" I heard Mary mutter; and then more softly,
"There, don't you cry, Miss Hetty; he ain't killed. It's left off
bleeding now. You go to your mar's work-basket and get me a strip of
rag. You ain't got any sticking-plaister, have you?"
"I've got some black court-plaister, Mary."
"That'll do, chucky; go and get it. Poor boy, he has had a beating!"
she muttered as I heard Hetty's steps crossing the kitchen floor.
"I'm--I'm better now, Mary," I said faintly; and I tried to rise.
"No, you ain't better, neither; and you'll just lie quite still till
your head's done," said Mary, in her rough ungracious way. "You needn't
be afraid about him; he's gone to bed and sent for the doctor, because
he pretends he's so bad, and Mr Emmett the constable is upstairs with
him, about going to the magistrates and taking up Mr Wooster for
beating him; but he didn't say nothing about taking his self up for
beating you, a great ugly coward! Oh! here you are, are you?"
"Here's some clean soft linen and the court-plaister," I heard Hetty say
with a sob.
"Where's your mar?" said Mary.
"Upstairs in papa's room."
"Ho?" ejaculated Mary, "and I hope she'll stay there. There, don't you
begin a-crying again. Hold his hair back while I put this bit on.
There, it's not going to bleed any more, and you needn't get shuddering
like that at the sight of a little blood. That's the way. Poor boy, it
was enough to knock down a hox. Never mind the wet hair; it's only
vinegar and water. That's the way; we'll soon strap it up. I don't
want to hurt your feelings, Miss Hetty, but your par's a brute."
"Oh, Mary! I won't stop in the kitchen if you say such things," cried
Hetty, stamping her little foot.
"Then you'd better go back into the parlour, my dear, for I shall say
what I like in my own kitchen; so there now."
"It's very cruel and unkind of you, Mary."
"And it's very cruel and unkind of your par to keep this poor boy
half-starved in that orfis."
"He did not, Mary. I'm sure papa would not do such a thing."
"And that's why you go without half your dinner, and then take and put
it in Antony's desk."
"Mary!"
"Ah, you may Mary as long as you like, but I've seen you do it."
"Hush! pray don't, Mary; he'll hear you."
"Not he, my dear. Poor boy! he's dropped off asleep, and the best thing
too. You're asleep, aren't you?"
I tried to answer "No," but the faint deathly feeling came over me again
as strongly as ever, and all seemed dark and silent once more.
It was getting dark when I awoke; for, from fainting, I must have lapsed
into a heavy sleep, the result of exhaustion and the shock. My head
ached, and I was very stiff and in great pain as I tried to raise myself
from the pillow which propped me up in the great Windsor chair. Mary
was seated opposite to me, crooning some ditty in a low voice as she sat
sewing, the needle clicking against her thimble as she thrust it through
the work.
The fire was burning brightly, the tea-things on the table, the pot on
the hob, and some buttered toast upon the fender.
As I was gazing at her, and noticing the play of the flames over her red
and rugged countenance, she suddenly raised her eyes, gazed full at me,
and the harsh repulsive look passed away as she showed a set of white
teeth in a pleasant smile, and rose and came to me, bending down and
laying her hand upon my burning forehead.
"You won't want no doctor," she said; and to my utter astonishment she
bent lower, kissed me, and then softly patted my cheek. "Poor boy," she
said, "it was a shame!"
I gazed up piteously and wildly, I believe, in her face, for it was so
strange. She had always been so rough and harsh towards me, and her
frequent donations of bread and butter seemed to have been given to me
more out of spite to her employers than out of kindness to me; but now
it was plain enough that under her rugged crust she possessed a true
woman's nature, and the ill-treatment I had received had completely made
her my friend.
"I've been waiting all this time for you to wake and have tea," she
said, placing the pot and the toast on the table. "Now then, see if you
can't sit up and have some."
"I couldn't drink any, thank you," I said faintly.
"Such stuff and nonsense! It's quite fresh, and I've put in some extra
as Miss Hetty give me. Come now, sit up and try, there's a dear."
I tried to sit up, but the pain was so great that I sank back, having
hard work not to cry out; and seeing this, with a tenderness for which I
should not have given her credit, she gently raised me and backed the
pillows up, so as to support me; and then, finding that this was not
sufficient, she ran out of the kitchen, to return in a few minutes,
doubling up what I knew was her best shawl, which she now formed into a
cushion.
"There, now we shall do," she said cheerily; and, pouring out a cup of
tea, she tasted and added milk till it was to her liking, and then held
it to my lips.
It was like nectar, and I gave her a grateful look for that which seemed
to impart new life to my bruised body.
"Now, you've got to eat some toast," she said, and I stared at her in
wonder, for it seemed to be a new Mary upon whom I gazed.
"I couldn't eat a bit," I said helplessly.
"But you must," she said imperatively. "Now look here, you have had
hardly anything since breakfast, and if you don't eat, you can't get
well."
I took the toast she held to me, and managed to eat it. That done, I
had another cup of tea, and the sickly faint feeling I had had every
time I moved seemed less overpowering; and at last I lay back there,
listening helplessly to Mary as she chatted to me and washed up the
tea-things.
"Don't you trouble about them; they won't come in my kitchen. He's ill
in bed, or pretending to be, and the doctor says he ain't to move for a
week. I hope he mayn't for a month--a brute! I never see such a
cowardly trick. I wish my William had him. He's going to have the law
of Mr Wooster, so Mr Emmett the constable told me; and him and the
doctor'll make out a nice case between 'em, I know. Pah! I hate
lawyers and doctors. So you make yourself comfortable. I'll be your
doctor, and if they ain't pretty civil to me, I'll be your lawyer, too,
and go to the madgistrits, see if I don't. If I was you I wouldn't stay
with 'em a minnit after I got well. I shan't; I'm sick of 'em."
"I wish I could go, Mary," I said, "but I don't want to go now you've
been so kind."
"Kind! Stuff! It's only my way. There ain't a better-tempered girl
nowheres than I am; only when you come to live in a house where the
master's a snarling, biting, growling hound, and the missus is a
fault-finding, scolding, murmuring himidge, it's enough to put out a
hartchangel. But I say, if I was you, and could write such a lovely
hand, I should send and tell my father and mother. Oh, I am sorry,
dear--I forgot about your poor father and mother. But I would write and
tell somebody."
Mary's allusion to my lovely handwriting was consequent upon my having
copied a letter for her to one Mr William Revitts, who was a policeman
in London. She had asked me to copy it for her, and direct it "proper,"
because her hands were so dirty when she wrote that she was afraid he
might not be able to read it. All the same, Mary's hands seemed to have
been perfectly clean, though the probabilities were that the said Mr
William Revitts, "mi one dere willim," would certainly not have been
able to read the letter. In fact, I broke down over the very beginning
by mistaking "one" for the number, and had to be corrected, Mary having
meant to say _own_.
Her allusion to my parents touched a tender chord, and my face worked as
I recalled the happy times gone by. "I have nobody to write to," I said
at last--"only my uncle."
"Then I'd write and tell him, that I would."
"I am not quite sure where he lives," I said. "I never saw him till--
till he came to the funeral."
"But haven't you got nobody belonging to you--no friends at all?"
"I think not," I said helplessly. "No one who would help me."
"Well, you are a one," said Mary, pausing in the act of wiping out the
tea-tray after half filling it and pouring the dirty water off at one
corner. "Why, I've got no end o' people belonging to me; and if that
brute upstairs--as I wish he may ache bad for a week!--was to raise his
hand against me, my William would be down and serve him worse than Mr
Wooster did, I can tell him--a wretch!"
"Is that Mr William Revitts," I asked, "the policeman?"
"Yes; but he wouldn't come down here as a policeman, but as a gentleman,
and he'd soon teach Mr Blakeford what he ought to--Yes! What is it?"
This was in answer to a shrill call for Mary in Mrs Blakeford's voice,
and that lady came in immediately after, to Mary's great disgust.
"You must get hot water ready directly, Mary," she began in an ill-used
way. "I'm sure _I_ don't know what I shall do. He's very bad indeed."
"Oh, there's lots of hot water," said Mary shortly. "Biler's full, and
kettle's full, and I'll put on the great black saucepan and light the
copper if you like."
As she spoke Mary seized the big poker, and began stoking and hammering
away at the fire in a most vicious manner, as if determined to vent her
spleen upon Mr Blakeford's coals.
"Your poor master's dreadfully bad," said Mrs Blakeford again, and she
kept on looking at me in a way that seemed quite to indicate that I
alone was to blame.
"Oh, yes, mum, I dessay he is, and so's other people too, and wuss. I
dessay he'll get better again if he don't die."
Mrs Blakeford stared at Mary in a half-terrified way, and backed to the
door.
"You ring the bell when you want it, and I'll bring you a can of water
upstairs," continued Mary ungraciously.
"And couldn't you help me a little in attending upon your master, Mary?"
"No, I couldn't, mum," she said shortly, "for I'm the worst nuss as ever
was; and besides, I've got my kitchen work to do; and if you wants a
nuss, there's Mrs Jumfreys over the way would be glad to come, I
dessay, only I ain't going to have her here in my kitchen."
Mrs Blakeford hastily backed out of the kitchen and retreated upstairs,
while Mary's rough mask dropped off as soon as she had gone.
"I wasn't going to tell her as I nussed an invalid lady two years 'fore
I came here," she said, smiling. "Besides, I didn't want to have
nothing to do with him, for fear I should be tempted to give him his
lotion 'stead of his physic, he aggravates me so. Lotions is pison, you
know--outward happlication only."
That night I had a bed made up down in the kitchen, and passed a weary,
feverish time; but towards morning a pleasant feeling of drowsiness came
over me. I fell asleep to dream that I was at home once more, and all
was bright and sunshiny as I sat half asleep in the summer-house, when
my mother came and laid her hand upon my forehead, and I opened my eyes
to find it was Mary, ready to ask me whether I was better; and though
the sweet, bright dream had gone, there was something very tender in the
eyes that looked in mine.
CHAPTER SEVEN.
DREAMS OF THE GREAT MAGNET.
I was very stiff and sore, and there was a peculiar giddiness ready to
assail me as soon as I moved, so Mary, in her double capacity of doctor
and nurse, decided that I was not to attempt to walk about that day.
The consequence was that she made no scruple about dragging a little
couch out of the parlour into the kitchen, and after I was dressed,
making me lie down near the fire.
"If they don't like it about the sofy, they must do the other thing,"
she said, laughing. "I say, do you know what time it is?"
"No," I replied.
"Half-past ten, and I've been waiting breakfast till you woke. You
_have_ had a sleep. I wouldn't wake you, for I thought it would do you
good."
"I am better, a great deal," I said.
"Yes; so you are. He ain't, or pretends he ain't. Miss Hetty's been
catching it."
"Has she?"
"Yes; for wanting to know about you. Missus told her you were a wicked
young wretch, and had half killed your master, and she was never to
mention your name again."
I was decidedly better, and in the course of the afternoon I got up and
found that the various objects had ceased to waltz around. I made my
way up to my bedroom, and for the first time had a look at myself in the
glass, where I found that a sore feeling upon my face was caused by a
couple of black marks which crossed each other at a sharp angle, and
that high up above my temple, and just where the hair would cover it,
there was a patch of black court-plaister, which was placed across and
across in strips to cover a long and painful cut.
The days glided by; the weals on my face changed colour and began to
fade, while the cut on my head grew less painful. I was thrown a good
deal with Mary, for no work had been set me in the office, and Mr
Blakeford kept his bed, being regularly attended by the doctor.
I found--Mary being my informant--that there was to be quite a serious
case made of it, and Mrs Blakeford had told her that I was to be an
important witness to the assault.
A fortnight had passed; and as I sat alone day after day in the office
thinking of a plan that had suggested itself to my mind, but fearing to
put it into execution, I had two visitors who completely altered my
career in life.
The first came one morning as I was writing a letter to my uncle--a
letter destined never to reach him--in the shape of the big farmer, Mr
Wooster, who rapped sharply at the office door, and gazed sternly at me
as I opened it and stood in the little passage.
"Where's Blakeford?" he said sharply.
"Ill in bed, sir," I said.
"It's a lie, you young rascal," he cried, catching me by the collar.
"Here, how old are you?"
"Thirteen, sir."
"And you can tell lies like that, eh? and without blushing?"
"It is not a lie, sir," I said stoutly. "Mr Blakeford hasn't been down
since--since--"
"I thrashed him, eh?" he said, laughing. "It was a good thrashing too,
eh, youngster? But, hallo! what's the matter with your head?"
"A cut, sir."
"What! Did you tumble down?"
"No, sir. It was done the day you--you beat Mr Blakeford."
"How?"
I was silent.
"He--he didn't dare to do it, did he?"
I was still silent.
"Look here, youngster, tell me the truth and I'll give you a shilling."
"I never told a lie yet, sir," I said stoutly, "and I don't want your
shilling."
He looked at me intently for a few moments, and then held out his hand.
"Shake hands," he said.
I placed mine in his, and he squeezed it so that he hurt me, but I did
not flinch.
"I believe you, my lad. You don't look like a lying sort, and I wish
you were out of this. Now, tell me, did he make that cut on your head?"
I nodded. "What with?"
"That ruler."
"Humph! And what for?"
"Because I let you in on that day."
"Hang him!" he cried, striding up and down the office, for he had walked
straight in, "he's a bigger scoundrel than I thought him. Now, look
here, my man, there's going to be an action, or a trial, or something,
against me, and you'll be the principal witness. Now, what are you
going to do?"
"Going to do, sir?"
"Yes," he said impatiently; "you'll have to appear before the
magistrates, and you'll be asked all about my thrashing your master.
What are you going to say?"
"I shall tell them the truth, sir."
"No, you won't, my boy. You'll say what Mr Blakeford tells you to
say."
"I shall tell the truth, sir," I said stoutly.
"Look here, my lad, if you tell the truth, that's all I want; if you
don't, you'll ruin me."
"I'm sure I shall tell the truth, sir," I said, colouring up and
speaking earnestly.
"You'll tell the magistrates, then, that I snatched up the poker and
beat Mr Blakeford with that, eh?"
"No, sir, it was your walking-stick."
"Was it anything like that?" he said, holding out the one he carried.
"Yes, sir, just like it. Here are the pieces, sir," I said; and I took
them out of my desk, where I had placed them.
"You're a brave boy," he cried, rubbing his hands; "so they are. Now
look here, my boy: Mr Blakeford says I assaulted him with the poker.
Just you button those pieces of stick up in your socket--no, give them
to me; I'll take them. Now; when the day comes, and I ask you to tell
the truth about it, you speak out honestly, or, better still, go and
hide yourself and never come near the court at all. There's
half-a-crown for you. What, you won't take it! Well, just as you like.
Good-bye!"
He shook hands with me again, and nodding in a friendly way, left the
office.
He had not been, gone more than an hour when there was another knock at
the door, and on opening it, I admitted Mr Rowle, who smiled at me as
he took off his hat and smoothed his thin streaky hair across his bald
head.
"Well, young un," he said, "why, you're growing quite a man. But what's
the matter with your forehead?"
I told him, and he gave a low, long whistle.
"I say, young un," he said, "I dare say it ain't no business of mine,
but if I was you, I should look after another place. Perhaps, though,
he wouldn't let you go."
"Mr Blakeford often says, Mr Rowle, that he wishes I was out of his
sight."
"Gammon!" said my visitor; "don't you believe him. You do as you like;
but if I was a boy like you, I wouldn't stay here."
I looked up at him guiltily, and he stared hard at me, as if reading my
thoughts.
"Why, what's wrong?" he said; "you look as red as a turkey cock!"
"Please, Mr Rowle--but you won't tell Mr Blakeford?"
"Tell Mr Blakeford? Not I."
"I mean to go up to London, and try and find my uncle."
"Try and find him? What, don't you know where he lives?"
"No, sir."
"Humph! London's a big place, you know."
"Yes, sir, but I dare say I could find him."
"What is he--a gentleman?"
"Yes, sir, I think so."
"So don't I, my boy, or he'd never have left you in charge of old
Pouncewax. But lookye here now; out with it! What do you mean to do--
give notice to leave, or are you going to cut?"
"Cut what, sir?"
"Cut what! Why, cut away--run up to London."
I hesitated for a few moments and hung my head; then, looking up in my
old friend's face, as he thrust his hand into his cuff--and I expected
to see him draw his pipe--I felt that I had nothing to fear from him,
and I spoke out.
"Please, Mr Rowle, I'm so unhappy here, that I was going to run away."
He caught me by the collar so sharply that I thought he was going to
punish me; but it was only touring down his other hand with a sharp clap
upon my shoulder.
"I'm glad of it, young un. Run away, then, before he crushes all the
hope and spirit out of you."
"Then you don't think it would be very wrong, sir?"
"I think it would be very right, young un; and I hope if you find your
uncle, he won't send you back. If he wants to, don't come: but run away
again. Look here; you'll want a friend in London. Go and see my
brother."
"Your brother, sir?"
"Yes, my brother Jabez. You'll know him as soon as you see him; he's
just like me. How old do you think I am?"
"I should think you're fifty, sir."
"Fifty-eight, young un; and so's Jabez. There, you go and put his name
and address down. Fifty-eight he is, and I'm fifty-eight, so there's a
pair of us. Now, then, write away: Mr Jabez Rowle, Ruddle and Lister."
"Mr Jabez Rowle," I said, writing it carefully down, "Good. Now Ruddle
and Lister."
"Ruddle and Lister."
"Commercial printers."
"Com-mer-cial prin-ters."
"Short Street, Fetter Lane."
"Fetter Lane."
"And now let's look." I handed him the scrap of paper.
"Why, it's lovely. Copper-plate's nothing to it, young un. There, you
go up and see him, and tell him you've come up to London to make your
fortune, and he'll help you, I went up to London to make mine, young
un."
"And did you make it, sir?" I said eagerly. He looked down at his
shabby clothes, smoothed his hair, and then, with a curious smile upon
his face--
"No, young un, I didn't make it. I made something else instead."
"Did you, sir?"
"Yes, young un--a mess of it. Look here, I might have got on, but I
learned to drink like a fish. Don't you. Mind this: drink means going
downwards into the mud; leaving it alone means climbing up to the top of
the tree. Bless your young heart, whatever you do, don't drink."
"No, sir," I said, "I will not;" but I did not appreciate his advice.
"There, you stick to that paper. And now, how much money have you got?"
"Money, sir?"
"Yes, money. London's a hundred miles away, and you can't walk."
"I think I could, sir."
"Well, try it; and ride when you're tired. How much have you got?"
I took out my little blue silk purse, and counted in sixpences
half-a-crown.
He looked at me for some few moments, and then stood thinking, as if
trying to make up his mind about something.
"I'll do it," he muttered. "Look here, young un, you and I are old
friends, ain't we?"
"Oh, yes!" I said eagerly.
"Then I will do it," he said, and untying his neckerchief, he, to my
great surprise, began to unroll it, to show me the two ends that were
hidden in the folds. "For a rainy day," he said, "and this is a rainy
day for you. Look here, young un; this is my purse. Here's two
half-sovs tied up in these two corners--that's one for you, and one for
me."
"Oh, no, sir," I said, "I'd rather not take it!" and I shrank away, for
he seemed so poor and shabby, that the idea troubled me.
"I don't care whether you'd rather or not," he said, untying one corner
with his teeth. "You take it, and some day when you've made your
fortune, you give it me back--if so be as you find I haven't succeeded
to my estate."
"Do you expect to come in for an estate some day, sir?" I said eagerly.
"Bless your young innocence, yes. A piece of old mother earth, my boy,
six foot long, and two foot wide. Just enough to bury me in."
I understood him now, and a pang shot through me at the idea of another
one who had been kind to me dying. He saw my look and nodded sadly.
"Yes, my lad, perhaps I shall be dead and gone long before then."
"Oh, sir, don't; it's so dreadful!" I said.
"No, no, my boy," he said quietly; and he patted my shoulder, as he
pressed the half-sovereign into my hand. "Not so dreadful as you think.
It sounds very awful to you youngsters, with the world before you, and
all hope and brightness; but some day, please God you live long enough,
you'll begin to grow very tired, and then it will seem to you more like
going to take a long rest. But there, there, we won't talk like that.
Here, give me that money back?"
I handed it to him, thinking that he had repented of what he had done,
and he hastily rolled the other half-sovereign up, and re-tied his
handkerchief.
"Here," he said, "stop a minute, and don't shut the door. I shall soon
be back."
He hurried out, and in five minutes was back again to gaze at me
smiling.
"Stop a moment," he said, "I must get sixpence out of another pocket. I
had to buy an ounce o' 'bacco so as to get change. Now, here you are--
hold out your hand."
I held it out unwillingly, and he counted eight shillings and four
sixpences into it.
"That's ten," he said; "it's better for you so. Now you put some in one
pocket and some in another, and tie some up just the same as I have, and
put a couple of shillings anywhere else you can; and mind and never show
your money, and never tell anybody how much you've got. And mind this,
too, when anybody asks you to give him something to drink, take him to
the pump. That's all. Stop. Don't lose that address. Gov'nor's not
down, I s'pose?"
"No, sir," I said.
"All right then, I shan't stay. Good-bye, young un. When are you
going?"
"I'm not quite sure yet, sir."
"No? Well, perhaps I shan't see you again. Jabez Rowle, mind you.
Tell him all about yourself, mind, and--good-bye."
He trotted off, but came back directly, holding out his hand.
"God bless you, young un," he said huskily. "Good-bye."
Before I could speak again, the door closed sharply, and I was alone.
CHAPTER EIGHT.
I TAKE A BOLD STEP.
My head was in a whirl as soon as Mr Rowle had gone, and I sat at my
desk thinking over my project, for I had felt for days past that I could
not stay where I was--that I would sooner die; and night after night I
had lain awake thinking of the, to me, terrible step I proposed to take.
My life at Mr Blakeford's had been such a scene of misery and torture,
that I should have gone long enough before, had I dared. Now that I had
grown older, and a little more confident, I had gradually nurtured the
idea as my only hope, and the events of the past weeks had pretty well
ripened my scheme.
As I sat there, I laid my arms on the big desk, and my head down upon
them, trembling at my daring, as the idea took a far more positive shape
than ever; and now a feeling of reluctance to leave had come upon me.
Mary had been so kind; and then there was little Hetty, who had silently
shown me so many tokens of her girlish goodwill.
I felt as I sat there, with the money and address in my pocket, that I
must go now; and to act as a spur to my intentions, the words of Mr
Wooster came trooping across my memory.
Would Mr Blakeford want me to go to the magistrates and say what was
not true?
In imagination, I saw his threatening dark face before me, and his thin
lips just parting to display his white teeth in that doglike smile of
his, and I shuddered, as I felt how I feared him. It would be horrible
to be threatened till I promised to say what he wished, and to lie to
the magistrates with Mr Wooster's threatening face watching me the
while.
But he would not ask me to tell a lie, I thought, and I could not run
away. Mary would never forgive me, and Hetty would think that I really
did cause her father to be so beaten. No: I felt I could not go, and
that somehow I must get away from the house, go straight to Mr Rowle's
lodgings, and give him back the money, which I had received upon such a
false pretence.
It was all over. I felt the idea of freeing myself from my wretched
slavery was one that could never be carried out, and I must wait
patiently and bear my miserable lot.
_Crack_!
I leaped up as if I had been shot, to see Mr Blakeford, in
dressing-gown and slippers, his hair cut short, and looking very pale,
standing in the office, the ruler in his hand, with which he had just
struck the table and made me start.
"Asleep?" he said sharply.
"No, sir," I said, trembling as I looked at him over the partition.
"No, sir, I was not asleep."
"It's a lie, sir, you were asleep. Come here."
I descended from the stool, and opening the partition door, went slowly
into his part of the office, and stood by the table, his dark eyes
seeming to pierce me through and through.
"Been worked so hard since I was ill, eh?" he said sneeringly.
"No, sir, I--"
"Hold your tongue. What's the matter with your head?"
"My head, sir?" I stammered.
"Yes, that half-healed cut. Oh, I remember, you fell down didn't you?"
"Fell down, sir! No, I--"
"You fell down--pitched down--I remember, while climbing."
"No, sir, I--"
"Look here, you dog," he hissed between his teeth; "you fell down, do
you hear? and cut your head when climbing. Do you understand?"
"No, sir, I--"
"Once more, Antony Grace, listen to me. If anyone asks you how you came
by that cut, mind--you fell down when climbing--you fell down when
climbing. If you forget that--"
He did not finish, but seemed to hold me with his eye as he played with
the ruler and made it go up and down.
"Look here, my boy, you are my clerk, and you are to do exactly as I
tell you. Now, listen to me. The day after to-morrow there is to be a
case of assault brought before the magistrates, and you will be sworn as
a witness. You let Mr Wooster in--curse him!--and you saw him come up
to my table where I was sitting, and make a demand for money."
"Please, sir, I did not hear him ask for money."
"You did, sir," he thundered; "and you saw him strike me with his
stick."
"Yes, sir, I saw him strike you," I cried hastily. "Oh, you did see
that, did you?" he said in sneering tones.
"Yes, sir."
"Did you see the stick break?"
"Yes, sir," I said eagerly.
"Oh, come; I'm glad you can remember that. Then he caught up the poker
and beat me with it heavily across the body, till the poker was bent
right round; and at last, when I was quite stunned and senseless, and
with the blood streaming from my lips, he left me half dead and went
away."
There was a pause here, during which I could not take my eyes from his.
"You saw all that, didn't you?"
"No, sir," I said, "he did not take the poker."
"What?"
"He did not take the poker, sir."
"Oh! and he did not beat me with it till it was bent?"
"No, sir."
"Go and fetch that poker," he said quietly; and I went trembling, and
picked it up, to find it quite bent. "There, you see?" he said.
"Yes, sir, it is bent."
"Of course it is, Antony. You don't remember that he struck me with it,
eh?"
"No, sir," I said, trembling.
"Ah, I shall have to refresh your memory, my boy. You remember, of
course, about the blood?"
"No, sir."
"What's that on the floor?"
I looked down at the place to which he pointed with the bent poker, and
there were some dark stains where I had fallen. Then, raising my eyes
to his again, I looked at him imploringly.
"I shall soon refresh your memory, Antony," he said, laughing silently,
and looking at me so that I shivered again. "You will find, on sitting
down and thinking a little, that you recollect perfectly well how Mr
Wooster beat me cruelly with the poker, till it was bent like this, and
left me bleeding terribly on the office floor. There, hold your tongue.
You'll recollect it all. Sit down and try and remember it, there's a
good boy. I'm better now, but I can't talk much. Let me see, Antony,
what time do you go to bed?"
"Nine o'clock, sir," I faltered.
"Exactly. Well, don't go to sleep, my boy. I'll come up to you after
you are in bed, and see if you remember it any better. Go back to your
desk."
I crept back, watching him the while, as he stood balancing the poker in
his hand, and smiling at me in a way that made my blood turn cold.
Then, throwing the poker back with a crash into the grate, he went out
as silently as he had come, and I sat there thinking for quite two
hours.
At the end of that time, I took a sheet of paper, and wrote upon it as
well as my wet trembling hands would let me--
"My dear Mary,--
"Please don't think me a very ungrateful boy, but I cannot, and I dare
not, stay here any longer. When you read this I shall be gone, never
to come back any more. Please tell Miss Hetty I shall never forget
her kindness, and I shall never forget yours.
"I remain, your affectionate friend,--
"Antony Grace.
"P.S.--Some day, perhaps, we shall meet somewhere. I am very unhappy,
and I cannot write any more. Mr Blakeford frightens me."
This letter I doubled and sealed up in the old fashion, and kept in my
pocket, meaning to post it, and at last, when I went into the kitchen to
tea, I was half afraid to meet Mary. She noticed my pale face, and I
told her the truth, that I had a bad headache, making it an excuse for
going up to bed at eight o'clock, feeling as if the greatest event in my
life were about to take place, and shaking like a leaf.
I felt that I had an hour to spare, and spent part of the time in making
a bundle of my best clothes and linen. I tied up in a handkerchief,
too, some thick slices of bread and butter, and some bread and meat that
I had found that afternoon in my desk. Then, as the night grew darker,
I sat thinking and asking myself, after placing my bundles ready,
whether I should go at once, or wait till I heard Mr Blakeford coming.
I had just decided to go at once, feeling that I dare not face Mr
Blakeford again, when I heard his voice downstairs, and started up,
trembling in every limb.
"Where's that boy?"
"Gone to bed," said Mary surlily. Then I heard a door shut directly
after, and breathed more freely. I felt that I must go at once, and
stood in the middle of the room, shivering with nervous excitement, as I
thought of the madness of the step I was about to undertake.
A dozen times over I felt that I dare not go, till the recollection of
Mr Blakeford's dark threatening face and sneering smile gave me
strength, and made me call up the picture of myself before the
magistrates telling all I knew about the assault, of course not saying
anything about the poker, or my employer's injuries; and then I began to
think about meeting him afterwards.
"He'll half kill me," I thought; and stopping at this, I nerved myself
for what I had to do, and putting on my cap, went to the door and
listened.
I had spent so much time in indecision that the church clock was
striking ten, and I started as I thought of Mr Blakeford being already
upon the stairs.
From where I stood I could have seen the light shining out of the
kitchen where Mary sat at work; but it was not there, and I knew that
she must have gone up to bed.
It now flashed upon me that this was why Mr Blakeford had been
waiting--he did not want Mary to interfere; and a cold chill came over
me as I felt that he meant to beat me till I consented to say what he
wished.
There was no time to lose, so, darting back, I caught up my two bundles,
crept to the door, descended the stairs on tiptoe, and felt my heart
beat violently at every creak the woodwork of the wretched steps gave.
Twice over a noise in the house made me turn to run back, but as there
was silence once more, I crept down, and at last reached the mat in
front of the office door.
At the end of the passage was the parlour, where I knew Mr Blakeford
would be sitting, and as I looked towards it in the darkness, I could
see a faint glimmer of light beneath the door, and then heard Mr
Blakeford cough slightly and move his chair.
Turning hastily, I felt for the handle of the office door, which was
half glass, with a black muslin blind over it, and moving the handle, I
found the door locked. The key was in, though, and turning it, there
was a sharp crack as the bolt shot back, and then as I unclosed this
door, I heard that of the parlour open, and a light shone down the
passage.
"He's coming?" I said in despair; and for a moment, my heart failed me,
so great an influence over me had this man obtained, and I stood as if
nailed to the floor. The next moment, though, with my heart beating so
painfully that it was as if I was being suffocated, I glided into the
office and closed the door, holding it shut, without daring to let the
handle turn and the catch slip back.
If he came into the office, I was lost, and in imagination, I saw myself
with my cap on, and my bundles under my arm, standing trembling and
detected before him. Trembling, indeed, as the light came nearer, and I
saw him dimly through the black blind approaching the office door.
He was coming into the office, and all was over! Closer, closer he
came, till he was opposite the door, when he stopped short, as if
listening.
His face was not a yard from mine, and as I gazed at him through the
blind, with starting eyes, seeing his evil-looking countenance lit up by
the chamber candlestick he carried, and the grim smile upon his lips, I
felt that he must hear me breathe.
I was paralysed, for it seemed to me that his eyes were gazing straight
into mine--fascinating me as it were, where I stood.
He was only listening, though, and instead of coming straight into the
office, he turned off sharp to the left, and began to ascend the stairs
leading to my bedroom.
There was not a moment to lose, but I was as if in a nightmare, and
could not stir, till, wrenching myself away, I darted across the office
to the outer door, slipped the bolts, and turned the key with frantic
haste, just as his steps sounded overhead, and I heard him calling me by
name.
The door stuck, and I could not get it open, and all the time I could
hear him coming. He ran across the room, every footstep seeming to come
down upon my head like lead. He was descending the stairs, and still
that door stuck fast at the top.
In a despairing moment, I looked behind me to see the light shining in
at the glass door as he descended, and then my hand glided to the top of
the door, and I found that I had not quite shot back the bolt.
The next moment it was free, the door open, and I was through; but,
feeling that he would catch me in the yard, I tore out the key, thrust
it into the hole with trembling fingers, and as he dashed open the inner
door I closed the one where I stood, and locked it from the outside.
I had somehow held on to my bundles, and was about to run across the
yard to the pump in the corner, place one foot upon the spout, and by
this means reach the top of the wall, when I stopped, paralysed once
more by the fierce barking of the dog.
To my horror I found that he was loose, for his hoarse growling came
from quite another part of the yard to that where his kennel was fixed;
and I stood outside the door, between two enemies, as a faint streak of
light shot out through the keyhole, playing strangely upon the bright
handle of the key.--"Are you there, Antony? Come back this moment, sir.
Unlock this door."
I did not answer, but stood fast, as the handle was tried and shaken
again and again.
"You scoundrel! come back, or it will be worse for you. Leo, Leo, Leo!"
The dog answered the indistinctly heard voice with a sharp burst of
barking; and as the sound came nearer, I seemed to see the animal's
heavy bull-head, and his sharp teeth about to be fixed in my throat.
The perspiration dripped from me, and in my horror I heard Mr Blakeford
exclaim--
"You are there, you scoundrel, I know. I heard you lock the door. Come
in directly, or I'll half kill you."
My hoarse breathing was the only sound I heard. Then, directly after,
there were hasty steps crossing the office, and I knew he had gone round
to reach the front.
There was not a moment to lose, and I was about to risk the dog's
attack, sooner than face Mr Blakeford, when a thought struck me.
I had the little bundle loosely tied up in a handkerchief, and in it the
bread and meat.
This might quiet the dog; and with a courage I did not know I possessed,
I hastily tore it open, and taking a couple of steps into the yard,
called out, in a loud quick voice, "Here, Leo, Leo!" throwing the bread
and meat towards where I believed the dog to be.
There was a rush, a snarling whine, and the dog was close to me for the
moment. The next, as I heard him in the darkness seize the meat, I was
across the yard, with one foot on the pump, and as I raised myself the
front door was flung open, and I heard Mr Blakeford rush out.
CHAPTER NINE.
ON THE ROAD TO LONDON.
As Mr Blakeford ran down to the garden gate, I reached the top of the
wall, from whence I should have dropped down, but that he was already
outside, and would, I felt sure, have heard me. If I had then run away,
it seemed to me that it would be the easiest of tasks for him to pursue
me, and hunt me down.
If I stayed where I was, I felt that he would see me against the sky,
and I knew he would pass close by me directly to reach the yard doors,
when, half in despair, I threw myself flat down, and lay as close as I
could, embracing the wall, and holding my bundle in my teeth.
I heard him pass beneath the wall directly, and enter the yard by the
gate, which he closed after him, before running up to the office door
and unlocking it, allowing a stream of light to issue forth just across
where the dog was peaceably eating my provender.
"Curse him, he has gone!" I heard Mr Blakeford mutter, and my blood
ran cold, as he made a hasty tour of the place. "I'll have him back if
it costs me five hundred pounds," he snarled. "Antony, Antony! Come
here, my boy, and I'll forgive you."
He stopped, listening, but of course I did not move; and then, in an
access of rage, he turned upon the dog.
"You beast, what are you eating there?" he roared. "Why didn't you
seize him? Take that!"
There was a dull thud as of a heavy kick, a yelp, a whine, a snarl, and
then a dull worrying noise, as if the dog had flown at his master, who
uttered a loud cry of pain, followed by one for help; but I waited to
hear no more, for, trembling in every limb, I had grasped my bundle and
dropped from the wall, when with the noise growing faint behind me I ran
with all my might in the direction of the London Road.
Hearing steps, though, coming towards me directly after, I stopped
short, and ran into a garden, cowering down amongst the shrubs, for I
felt certain that whoever it was in front would be in Mr Blakeford's
pay, and I waited some time after he had passed before continuing my
flight.
I ran on that night till there was a hot feeling of blood in my throat,
and then I staggered up to, and leaned panting upon, a hedge by the
roadside, listening for the sounds of pursuit. A dog barking in the
distance sounded to me like Leo, and I felt sure that Mr Blakeford was
in hot chase; then I stumbled slowly on, but not for any great distance,
my pace soon degenerating into a walk, till I regained my breath, when I
ran on again for a time, but at a steady trot now, for I had not since
heard the barking of the dog. Still I did not feel safe, knowing that
at any moment Mr Blakeford might overtake me in his pony-chaise, when,
unless I could escape by running off across country, I should be
ignominiously dragged back.
At last, after several attempts to keep up my running, I was compelled
to be content with a steady fast walk, and thus I trudged on hour after
hour, till Rowford town, where I had spent so many wretched hours, was a
long way behind.
I had passed through two villages, but so far I had not met another soul
since leaving Rowford, nor heard the sound of wheels.
It was a very solitary road, leading through a pretty woodland tract of
the country, and often, as I toiled on, I came to dark overshadowed
parts, passing through woods, and I paused, not caring to go on. But
there was a real tangible danger in the rear which drove me onwards,
and, daring the imaginary dangers, I pushed on with beating heart,
thinking of robbers, poachers, and highway men, as I tried to rejoice
that there were no dangerous wild beasts in England.
At last, I could go no farther, but sank down perfectly exhausted upon a
heap of stones that had been placed there for mending the road; and, in
spite of my fears of pursuit, nature would have her way, and I fell fast
asleep.
The sun was shining full upon me when I awoke, stiff and sore, wondering
for a moment where I was; and when at last I recalled all the past, I
sprang up in dread, and started off at once, feeling that I had been
slothfully wasting my opportunity, and that now I might at any moment be
overtaken.
As I hurried on, I looked down at my feet, to find that my boots and
trousers were thickly covered with dust; but there was no one to see me,
and I kept on, awaking fully to the fact that I was faint and hungry.
These sensations reminded me of the contents of the little handkerchief,
and I wistfully thought of the bread and butter that I might have saved.
Then I stopped short, for the recollection of one bundle reminded me of
the other, and it was gone. Where was it? I had it when I sank down
upon that stone-heap, and I must have come away and left it behind.
In my faint, hungry state, this discovery was terribly depressing, for
the bundle contained my good suit of mourning, besides my linen and a
few trifles, my only valuables in this world.
"I must have them back," I thought; and I started off to retrace my
steps at a run, knowing that I had come at least a couple of miles.
It was dreadfully disheartening, but I persevered, gazing straight
before me, lest I should run into danger.
It seemed as if that stone-heap would never come into sight, but at last
I saw it lying grey in the distant sunshine, and forgetting my hunger, I
ran on till I reached the spot, and began to look round.
I had expected to see the bundle lying beside the stone-heap, as soon as
I came in sight, but there were no traces of it; and though I searched
round, and in the long grass at the side, there was no bundle.
Yes; I was certain that I had it when I sank down, and therefore
somebody must have taken it while I slept, for no one had passed me on
the road.
I could have sat down and cried with vexation, but I had pretty well
outgrown that weakness; and after a final glance round I was about to go
on again, when something a hundred yards nearer the town took my
attention, and, running up to it, I saw a pair of worn-out boots lying
on the grass by the roadside.
They seemed to be nothing to me, and, sick at heart, I turned back and
continued my journey, longing now for the sight of some village, where I
could buy a little milk and a few slices of bread.
The sun was growing hot, and licking up the dew beside the dusty road,
but it was a glorious morning, and in spite of my loss there was a
feeling of hopefulness in my heart at being free from the slavery I had
endured at Mr Blakeford's. I thought of it all, and wondered what Mary
would say, what Hetty would think, and whether Mr Blakeford would try
to fetch me back.
As I thought on, I recovered the ground I had lost, and reached a pretty
part of the road, where it dipped down in a hollow as it passed through
a wood. It was very delicious and shady, and the birds were singing as
they used to sing from the woods around my old home; and so sweet and
full of pleasant memories were these sounds, that for the moment I
forgot my hunger, and stood by a gate leading into the woods and
listened.
My reverie was broken by the sound of wheels coming up behind me, and
taking alarm on the instant, I climbed over the gate and hid myself,
crouching down amongst the thick bracken that showed its silvery green
fronds around.
I made sure it was Mr Blakeford in pursuit, and, once secure of my
hiding-place, I rose up gently, so that I could peer in between the
trees and over the high bank to the sloping road, down which, just as I
had pictured, the four-wheeled chaise was coming at a smart trot, with
Mr Blakeford driving, and somebody beside him.
My first impulse was to turn round and dash wildly through the wood; but
I partly restrained myself, partly felt too much in dread, and crouched
there, watching through the bracken till, as the chaise came nearer, I
saw that a common, dusty, tramp-looking boy was seated beside Mr
Blakeford, and the next moment I saw that he had my bundle upon his
knee.
For a moment I thought I might be deceived; but no, there was no doubt
about it. There was my bundle, sure enough, and that boy must have
taken it from me as I lay asleep, and then met and told Mr Blakeford
where he had seen me.
I was pretty nearly right, but not quite, as it afterwards proved. But
meanwhile the chaise had passed on, Mr Blakeford urging the pony to a
pretty good speed, and gazing sharply to right and left as he went
along.
I had hardly dared to breathe as he passed, but crouched lower and
lower, fancying that a robin hopping about on the twigs near seemed
ready to betray me: and not until the chaise had gone by some ten
minutes or so did I dare to sit up and think about my future movements.
The recollection of the dusty, wretched look of the lad who held my
bundle set me brushing my boots and trousers with some fronds of fern,
and feeling then somewhat less disreputable-looking, I ventured at last
to creep back into the road and look to right and left.
I was terribly undecided as to what I ought to do. Go back I would not,
and to go forward seemed like rushing straight into danger. To right or
left was nothing but tangled wood, wherein I should soon lose myself,
and therefore nothing was left for me to do but go straight on, and this
I did in fear and trembling, keeping a sharp look-out in front, and
meaning to take to the woods and fields should Mr Blakeford's chaise
again appear in sight.
For quite an hour I journeyed on, and then the roofs of cottages and a
church tower appeared, making me at one moment press eagerly forward,
the next shrink back for fear Mr Blakeford should be there. But at
last hunger prevailed, and making a bold rush, I walked right on, and
seeing no sign of danger, I went into the village shop and bought a
little loaf and some wonderfully strong-smelling cheese.
"Did you see a gentleman go by here in a chaise?" I ventured to say.
"What, with a boy in it?" said the woman who served me.
I nodded.
"Yes, he went by ever so long ago. You'll have to look sharp if you
want to catch them. The gentleman was asking after you."
I felt that I turned pale and red by turns, as I walked out into the
road, wondering what it would be best to do, when, to my great delight I
saw that there was a side lane off to the left, just a little way
through the village, and hurrying on, I found that it was quite a byway
off the main road. Where it led to I did not know, only that there was
a finger-post with the words "To Charlock Bridge" upon it, and turning
down I walked quite a couple of miles before, completely worn out, I sat
down beside a little brook that rippled across the clean-washed stones
of the road, and made the most delicious meal I ever ate in my life.
Bread and cheese and spring water under the shade of a high hedge, in
which a robin sat--it looked to me like the one I had seen in the wood--
and darted down and picked up the crumbs I threw it from time to time.
As my hunger began to be appeased, and I had thoroughly slaked my
burning thirst, by using my closed hand for a scoop, I began to throw
crumbs into the bubbling brook, to see them float down for some
distance, and then be snapped up by the silvery little fishes with which
the stream seemed to swarm. All the while, though, my head had been
constantly turning from side to side, in search of danger, and at last
just as I was about to continue my journey, hoping to gain the London
Road once more, I saw the danger I sought, in the shape of the boy with
my bundle running across the fields, as if he had come from the high
road, and was trying to get into the lane below me to cut me off.
I looked sharply behind me, expecting to see the chaise of Mr
Blakeford, but it was not in sight; so, stooping down, I waded quickly
through the brook, kept under the shelter of the hedge, and ran on
steadily, so as not to be out of breath.
The water filled my boots, but it only felt pleasantly cool, and, as I
thought, made me better able to run, while, as I raised my head from
time to time, I could catch sight of the boy with the bundle running
hard across field after field, and losing so much time in getting
through hedges or over gates that I felt that I should be past the spot
where he would enter the lane before he could reach it.
To my surprise, though, I found that the lane curved sharply round to
the right, giving him less distance to run, so that when I tried hard to
get by him, having given up all idea of hiding, I found that he had
jumped over into the lane before I came up. Then to my horror, as I
turned a sharp corner, I came straight upon him, he being evidently
quite as much surprised as I at the suddenness of our encounter--the
winding of the lane and the height of the hedges having kept us out of
sight the one of the other, until the very last moment, when we came
face to face, both dusty, hot, weary, and excited as two lads could be,
and for the moment neither of us moved.
I don't know how it was that I did not try to run off by the fields in
another direction, but it seems to me now that I was stirred by the same
savage instincts as an ostrich, who, seeing any hunter riding as if to
cut him off, immediately forgets that there is plenty of room behind,
and gallops across his pursuer's track, instead of right away.
As I ran panting up, the lad stopped short, and my eyes falling upon my
bundle, a new set of thoughts came flashing across my mind, making me
forget my pursuer in the high road.
As for the lad, he stood staring at me in a shifty way, and it soon
became evident that he gave me as much credit for chasing him as I did
him for chasing me.
He was the first to speak, and calling up the low cunning of his nature,
he advanced a step or two, saying:
"I say, you'd better hook it; that, gent's a-looking for you."
"You give me my bundle," I said, making a snatch at it, and getting hold
with one hand, to which I soon joined the other.
"'Taint your bundle," he said fiercely. "Let go, or I'll soon let you
know. Let go, will yer?"
He shook at it savagely, and dragged me here and there, for he was the
bigger and stronger; but I held on with all my might. I was horribly
frightened of him, for he was a coarse, ruffianly-looking fellow; but
inside that bundle was my little all, and I determined not to give it up
without a struggle.
"Here, you wait till I get my knife out," he roared. "It's my bundle,
yer young thief!"
"It is not," I panted: "you stole it from me while I lay asleep."
"Yer lie! Take that!"
_That_ was a heavy blow on my chin which cut my lip, and seemed to
loosen my teeth, causing me intense pain; but though for a moment I
staggered back, the blow had just the opposite effect to that intended
by the boy. A few moments before, I was so horribly afraid of him, that
I felt that I must give up; now the pain seemed to have driven all the
fear out of me, for, springing at him with clenched fists, I struck out
wildly, and with all my might; the bundle went down in the dust, and,
after a minutes scuffle, and a shower of blows, there, to my intense
astonishment, lay the boy too, grovelling and twisting about, rubbing
his eyes with his fists, and howling dismally.
"You let me alone; I never did nothing to you," he whined.
"You did; you stole my bundle," I cried, in the heat of my triumph.
"No, I didn't. I on'y picked it up. I didn't know it was yourn."
"You knew I was by it," I said.
"Yes; but I thought perhaps it weren't yourn," he howled.
"Now look here," I said, "you give me what you took out of it."
"I didn't take nothing out of it," he whined. "I was only going to,
when that gent came along on the shay, and asked me where you was."
"You've got my best shoes on," I said. "Take them off."
He pulled them off, having half spoiled them by cutting the fronts, to
let his feet go in.
"Where's that gentleman now?" I said.
"I don't know," he whined. "He said if I didn't show him where you was,
he'd hand me over to the police; and I cut off across the fields, when
we was walking the pony up a hill."
"You're a nice blackguard," I said, cooling down fast now, as the fear
of Mr Blakeford came back. I was wondering, too, how to get rid of my
conquest, when, just as I stooped to pick up the shoes, he shrank away,
uttering a cowardly howl, as if I had aimed a blow at him; and, starting
up, he ran back along the lane shoeless, and seemed making for the high
road.
"He'll tell Mr Blakeford," I thought; and catching up the bundle, I
hurried on in the opposite direction, till, finding the brook again
cross the road, I hastily stooped down and washed my bleeding knuckles,
before starting off once more, getting rid of the marks of the struggle
a fast as I could, and looking back from time to time, in momentary
expectation of seeing Mr Blakeford's head above the hedge.
CHAPTER TEN.
ALONG THE TOWING-PATH.
I felt in better spirits now. My rest and breakfast, and my encounter
with the boy, had given me more confidence in myself. Then, too, I had
recovered my bundle, replacing in it my shoes, and, after carefully
wrapping them up, the remains of my bread and cheese.
Hour after hour I walked on, always taking the turnings that led to the
right, in the belief that sooner or later they would bring me to the
London Road, which, however, they never did; and at last, in the
afternoon, I sat down under a tree and made a second delicious meal.
I passed, during the rest of that day's journey, through a couple more
villages, at the latter of which I obtained a large mug of milk for a
penny; and at last, footsore and worn out, I found myself at nightfall
far away in a pleasant pastoral country, where haymaking seemed to be
carried on a good deal, from the stacks I passed. There were hills
behind me, and hills again straight before me, the part where I was
being very level.
"What am I to do?" I asked myself, for I could go no farther, and a
feeling of desolation began to make my heart sink. "I must sleep
somewhere--but where?"
The answer came in the shape of a haystack, one side of which was being
cut away, and soon after, I was seated on the sweet-scented, soft stuff,
feasting away once more, to drop at last, almost unconsciously, into a
sweet sleep, from which I started up to find it quite dark, and that I
was growing cold.
There was plenty of loose straw close by, as if threshing had been going
on, and taking my bundle for a pillow, and nestling beneath the straw
which I drew over the hay, I was soon fast asleep once more, only to
wake up rested and refreshed as the birds were singing cheerily upon
another sunshiny morning.
My toilet consisted in getting rid of the bits of straw and hay, after
which I started to walk on once more, following a winding lane, which
brought me out at a wooden bridge, crossing a river, down by whose
pebbly side I finished my toilet, and rose refreshed and decent-looking,
for my bundle contained my brush and comb.
There was a little public-house on the other side of the stream, with
cows in a field hard by, and directing my steps there, after stopping on
the bridge for a few minutes to gaze at the fish glancing in the
sunshine, I found I could buy some bread and milk, the privilege being
given me of sitting down on a bench and watching the sparkling river as
I made my breakfast.
With every mouthful came hope and confidence. I felt as if I really was
free, and that all I now had to do was to trudge steadily on to London.
How long it would take me I did not know--perhaps a month. But it did
not matter; I could continue to be very sparing of my money, so as to
make it last.
It was a red-armed, apple-faced woman who gave me the mug, and she
stared at me curiously, frightening me so much, lest she should ask me
questions, that I hastily finished my milk, and, picking up the bread,
said "good-morning," and walked along by the side of the river, there
being here a towing-path, upon which I soon encountered a couple of
horses, the foremost of which was ridden by a boy with a whip, while
they dragged a long rope which kept plashing down into the river, and
then, being drawn taut, showered down pearly drops of water, which
seemed to be smoothed out by a long, low, narrow barge, painted yellow
and red, at the end of which was a man smoking, with his eyes half shut,
as he leaned upon the tiller gear.
They were going against the stream, and their progress was slow, as I
sat down and watched them go out of sight round the bend of the river.
"I wonder where this river runs to, and where I should go, if I walked
all along this path?" I said to myself, and then like a flash, the idea
came, right or wrong, I could not tell, that it must go on and on to
London.
It was full of hope, that thought; so full that I leaped up, and trudged
on so steadily, that at the end of an hour I again saw a couple of
horses in front, drawing another barge, with the rope plashing in and
out of the river; but this barge was going on in the same direction as I
was, and as I drew nearer I began to envy the boy riding so idly on the
foremost horse, and wished it were my fate to change places with him,
for one of my feet was very sore.
It pained me a good deal; but, all the same, there was a joyous feeling
of freedom to cheer me on, and I limped forward, thinking how I had
nothing to fear now, no dreary copying to do, and then stand shivering,
expecting blows, if I had omitted a word, or forgotten to cross some
_t_. All was bright and beautiful, with the glancing river, the
glorious green meadows, and the gliding barge going so easily with the
stream.
There was a stolid-looking man holding the tiller of the barge, staring
dreamily before him, and smoking, looking as motionless, and smoking
nearly as much, as the chimney of the cabin beside him. The barge
itself was covered with great tarred cloths of a dingy black, but the
woodwork about the cabin was ornamented with yellow and scarlet diamonds
and ovals carved in the sides.
The man took not the slightest notice of me as I limped on, gazing at
him and the gliding barge, but smoked away steadily, and I went on,
getting nearer and nearer to the horses, thinking as I did so of how
pleasant it would be to lie down on that black tarpaulin, and glide
along upon the shiny river without a care; and it seemed to me then,
ill-used and weary as I was, that the life of a bargeman would be
perfect happiness and bliss.
As I drew near the boy, who was sitting sidewise on the foremost horse,
with a shallow round-bottomed zinc bucket hanging from the collar on the
other side, I found that he was watching me as he whistled some doleful
minor ditty, pausing every now and then to crack his whip and utter a
loud "Jeet!"
This was evidently a command to the horses, one of which gave its head a
toss up and the other a toss down, but paid no further heed, both
continuing their steady way along the tow-path, while the boy went on
with his whistling.
I gradually drew up closer and closer, as the whistling kept on, to find
that about every minute, as if calculated exactly, but of course from
mere habit, there was the crack of the whip, the loud "Jeet?" and the
nod up and nod down of the two horses.
I trudged up close alongside the boy now, being anxious to learn where
the river really did run, but not liking at first to show my ignorance,
so we went on for some time in silence.
He was a rough, common-looking lad, with fair curly hair, and the skin
of his face all in scaly patches where it had been blistered by the sun,
and I took him to be about my own age. He was dressed in a loose jacket
and a pair of cord trousers, both of which were several sizes too large
for him, but the jacket-sleeves had been cut off above the elbow, and
the trousers were rolled up above his knees, showing his bare legs and
clean white feet. His coarse shirt was clean, what could be seen of it,
but the tops of the trousers were drawn up by strings over his
shoulders, so that they took the place of vest.
Altogether, even to his old, muddy, torn felt hat, through which showed
tufts of his curly hair, he was ragged to a degree; but he seemed as
happy as the day was long and as healthy as could be, as he whistled
away, stared at me, and uttered another loud "_Jeet_!" going a little
further this time, and making it "Jeet, Sammy--jeet, Tommair-y!"
The horses this time tightened the rope a little, but only for a few
moments, when it fell back into the water with a plash, the barge glided
on, the horses' hoofs crushed the sandy gravel, and the rope whisked and
rustled as it brushed along the thick growth of sedge by the water-side.
"Woss the matter with yer foot, matey?" said the boy at last, breaking
the ice as he gave his whip another crack, and then caught and examined
the thong.
"Sore with walking," I said; and then there was another pause, during
which he kept on whistling the minor air over and over again, while I
waited for another opening.
"Why don't you take off your shoes, matey?" he said. "They allus makes
my feet sore. I don't like shoes. Jeet, Tommair-y! Jeet, Sam-mair-y?"
This was a new light, and I thought, perhaps, I should be easier, for
one shoe was constantly scraping the tendon at the back of my heel. So
sitting down on the grass, I untied and slipped off my shoes, my socks
following, to be thrust into my pocket, and I limped on, setting my feet
delicately on the gravel, which hurt them, till I changed on to the
short soft turf beside the path.
The barge had passed me, but I soon overtook it, and then reached the
boy, who watched me complacently as I trudged on, certainly feeling
easier.
"One on 'ems a-bleeding," said my new friend then. "Shoes allus hurts.
Jeet!"
"Yes, when you walk far," I said, the conversation beginning to warm
now.
"Walked far, matey?"
"Yes, ever so far. Have you come far?"
"_Pistol_," I thought he said.
"Where?" I asked.
"Bristol. Jeet, Sammy!" _Crack_!
"All along by the river?"
"We don't call it the river, we call it the canal here. It's river
farther up towards London."
"Are you going to London?" I said.
"Yes. Are you?"
"Yes," I said; and my heart was at rest, for I knew now that which I
wanted to find out without asking. This river did go right to London,
and I must be on the upper part of the Thames.
We went on for some little time in silence, and then my new friend
began:
"Why don't you go and paddle yer feet in the water a bit?"
It was a good suggestion, and the shallow sparkling water looked very
delicious and cool.
"Tie your shoestrings together and hing 'em on to Tommy's collar. You
can hing yer bundle, too, if yer li-ak."
I hesitated for a moment. One boy had already appropriated my bundle,
but he had not the frank honest look of the one on the horse, and
besides, I did not like to seem suspicious. So, tying the shoestrings
together, I hung them on the tall hame of the collar, and the bundle
beside them, before going quickly over the gravel down to the shallow
water.
"Turn up yer trousers!" shouted the boy; and I obeyed his good advice,
ending by walking along the shallow water close behind the tow-rope, the
soft sand feeling delicious to my feet as the cool water laved and eased
the smarting wound.
At last I walked out with my feet rested, and the blood-stain washed
away, to run forward and join my companion, who looked at me in a very
stolid manner.
"Hev a ride?" he said at last.
"May I?"
"Fey-ther!"
"Hel-lo-a!" came slowly from the barge.
"May this chap hev a ri-ad?"
"Ay-er!"
The boy slipped down off the horse with the greatest ease, and stuck his
whip into a link of the trace.
"Now, then," he said, "lay holt o' his collar, and I'll give yer a leg
up."
I obeyed him, and seizing my leg, he nearly shot me right over the
horse, but by hanging tightly on to the collar I managed to save myself,
and shuffled round into the proper position for riding sidewise, feeling
the motion of the horse, in spite of a certain amount of boniness of
spine, delightfully easy and restful.
"They're all right," the boy said, as I glanced at my bundle. "They
won't fall off. Are yer comf'able?"
"Yes, capital," I said, and we journeyed on, my luck seeming almost too
good to be believed.
We went on talking away, now and then passing another barge, when the
ropes were passed one over the other boat, and the journey continued.
Soon afterwards I made my first acquaintance with a lock, and got down
off the horse to stand by the barge and gaze in wonderment at the
process. As it glided softly into the space between walls, a pair of
great doors were shut behind it, and I and my new companion helped to
turn handles, with the result that I saw the water foam and rush out,
and the barge slowly sink down to a lower level, when a couple of great
doors were swung open at the other end. There was a certain amount of
pushing and thrusting, and the barge glided out into the river ten feet
lower than it was before.
Then the rope was once more made fast, the horses tugged, and we went on
again, but not far before a shrill voice shouted "Jack!" and my
companion stood still till the barge came abreast of him, being steered
close in, when I saw a woman lean over the side and hold out a basket,
which the boy caught, and then ran after me once more, where I was
mounted on the first horse.
"My dinner," he said eagerly. "Got yourn?"
"Yes," I said, colouring up as I pulled the remains of my bread and
cheese out of my pocket, there being a large piece of the latter.
"Steak pudden to-day," said my companion, hanging his basket on to the
collar by my knee, and revealing a basin half full of savoury-odoured
beef-steak pudding, which was maddening to me in my hungry state.
"I say, what a whacking great piece of cheese! I like cheese," said my
companion; "let's go halves."
Pride kept me back for a moment, and then I said--
"I'll give you threepence if you'll give me half your dinner."
"I don't want your threepence," he said scornfully. "You shall have
half if you give me half your new bread and cheese. Ourn's allus stale.
Look, here's some cold apple puff too."
So there was, and delicious it looked, sufficiently so to make my mouth
water.
"Got a knife, matey?"
"Yes," I said, "but--"
"I say, I tell you what," said my would-be host. "Have you really got
threepence?"
"Yes," I said, and was about to say more, when Mr Rowle's words
occurred to me and I was silent.
"Then we'll have half a pint o' cider at the next lock, and twopen'orth
o' apples, shall us?"
"Yes," I said, delighted at the prospect; and the result was that we two
hearty boys soon finished pudding, puff, and the last scrap of the bread
and cheese, after which my new friend shouted, "Mother!" The boat was
steered in close, and the shrill-voiced woman took the basket back.
"Is your name Jack?" I said, as I descended, and we trudged on together
slowly beside the horses, each of which was now furnished with a tin
bucket hung from the top of its head, and containing some beans and
chaff.
"Yes; what's yourn?"
"Antony."
"Ho!"
There was silence after this, for we came up to another lock, close by
which was a little public-house, where Jack was sent to get a stone
bottle filled with beer, and up to whose door he summoned me, and we
partook of our half-pint of cider, Jack proving most honourable as to
his ideas of half.
Then the beer having been passed on board, Jack's mother and father
taking not the slightest notice of me, the barge was passed through the
lock, and Jack beckoned and waved his hand.
"You give me the twopence, and I'll buy," he said. "If we ask Mother
Burke for twopen'orth all at once she won't give us more than she would
for a penny. Stop a moment," he said, "you only give me a penny, and
we'll keep t'other for to-morrow."
I handed a penny to him, and we went into the lock cottage, in whose
lattice window were displayed two bottles of ginger-beer, a couple of
glasses of sugar-sticks, and a pile of apples.
Our penny in that out-of-the-way place bought us a dozen good apples,
and these we munched behind the horses as we trudged on slowly, mile
after mile.
I did not feel tired now, and we boys found so much to talk about that
the time went rapidly by. Jack's father and mother did not trouble
themselves about my being there, but towards six o'clock handed the boy
out his tea in a bottle, whose neck stuck out of the basket that had
held his dinner, and in which were some half a dozen slices of bread and
butter.
"'Tain't full," said Jack, holding the bottle up to the light; "she
might ha' filled it. There is more brem-butter. Never mind, I'll fill
it up with water. You won't mind?"
"No," I said; but as a lock was then coming in sight, and a
decent-looking village, an idea occurred to me. "Let's buy a pen'orth
of milk and put to it," I said.
Jack's eyes sparkled, and hanging the basket _pro tem._ on the hames, he
cracked his whip, and we proceeded a little more quickly towards the
lock, where I bought a twopenny loaf and some milk for our tea. I say
_ours_, for Jack literally shared his with me.
"Where are you going to sleep?" said Jack to me at last, as the evening
mists were beginning to rise on the meadows.
"I don't know," I said rather dolefully, for the idea had not occurred
to me before.
"Come and bunk along o' me."
"Where?" I asked.
"Under the tarpaulin in front o' the barge," he said; "I allus sleeps
there now, cos father says my legs gets in the way in the cabin."
"But would your father mind?"
"Not he. He'll go ashore as soon as we make fast for the night and lets
the horses loose to feed. He wouldn't mind."
And so it turned out, for the barge was made fast to a couple of stout
posts in a wider part of the canal, close to a lock where there was a
public-house. The horses were turned out to graze on the thick grass
beside the tow-path, and after a little hesitation I took my bundle and
shoes and crept in beneath a tarpaulin raised up in the middle to make
quite a tent, which Jack had contrived in the fore port of the barge.
"Ain't it jolly and snug?" he cried.
"Ye-es," I replied.
"On'y it won't do to stop in when the sun gets on it, 'cos it's so hot
and sticky. I like it. Feyther can't kick you here."
This was a revelation. I had been thinking Jack's life must be one of
perfect bliss.
"Does your father kick you, then?"
"Not now. He used to when he came home after being to the public, when
he was cross; but he didn't mean nothing. Feyther's werry fond o' me.
I wouldn't go back to sleep in the cabin now for no money."
Jack's conversation suddenly stopped, and I knew by his hard breathing
that he was asleep: but I lay awake for some time, peering out through a
little hole left by the tarpaulin folds at the stars, thinking of Mr
Blakeford and his pursuit; of what Mary would say when she read my
letter; and from time to time I changed the position of my bundle, to
try and turn it into a comfortable pillow; but, try how I would, it
seemed as if the heel of one or other of my shoes insisted upon getting
under my ear, and I dropped asleep at last, dreaming that they were
walking all over my head.
CHAPTER ELEVEN.
MY VAGABOND LIFE COMES TO AN END.
Somehow or other that idea about my boots being in antagonism to me
seemed to pervade the whole of my slumbers till morning, when one of
them, I fancied, had turned terribly vicious, and was kicking me hard in
the side.
I could not move, and the kicking seemed to go on, till a more vigorous
blow than before roused me to consciousness; but still for a few moments
I could not make out where I was, only that it was very dark and stuffy,
and that. I felt stiff and sore.
Just then a gruff voice awoke my mind as well as my body, and I found
that some one was administering heavy pokes through the tarpaulin with
what seemed to be a piece of wood.
"All right, feyther," cried Jack just then; and as we scrambled out from
beneath the tent I found it was grey dawn, that a heavy mist hung over
the river, and that Jack's father had been poking at the tarpaulin with
the end of a hitcher, the long iron-shod pole used in navigating the
barge.
"Going to lie abed all day?" he growled. "Git them horses to."
"Come along, matey; never mind your boots," cried Jack, and he leaped
ashore.
I did not like leaving my bundle behind, but I felt bound to help, and
following Jack's example, I helped him to catch the horses, which were
soon attached to the tow-line thrown ashore by the bargeman, who cast
loose the mooring ropes, and with the stars still twinkling above our
heads we were once more on our way, Jack walking beside the horse and I
barefooted beside him.
My feet did not pain me now, but I felt that to replace my boots would
be to chafe them again, so I contented myself with letting them ride,
while for the present I made my way afoot.
My proceedings as we went along seemed to greatly interest Jack, who
stared hard as he saw me stoop down and wash my face and hands at a
convenient place in the river, for a shake and a rub of his curly head
seemed to constitute the whole of his toilet. My hair I smoothed as I
walked by his side, while he looked contemptuously at my little
pocket-comb.
"That wouldn't go through my hair," he said at last. Then in the same
breath, "Old woman's up."
I turned to see how he knew it, expecting his mother to be on the little
deck: but the only thing visible besides Jack's father was a little curl
of smoke from the iron chimney in front of the rudder.
"That means brakfass," said Jack, grinning; "don't you want yourn?"
I said I did, and asked how soon we should get to a lock where I could
buy some bread and milk.
"Don't you waste your money on bread and milk," said my companion,
"there'll be lots o' brakfass for both on us. You wait till we get
farther on and we can get some apples and a bottle of ginger-beer."
It seemed so fair an arrangement that when the shrill voice summoned
Jack to fetch his breakfast I shared it with him, and so I did his
dinner and tea, while we afterwards regaled ourselves with fruit, and
sweets, and cider, or ginger-beer.
This went on day after day, for though the pace was slow I found that I
could not have got on faster. Besides which, I had endless rides,
Jack's proceedings with me never once seeming to awaken either interest
or excitement on the part of his parents. In fact, Jack's father seemed
to occupy the whole of his time in leaning upon the tiller and smoking,
with the very rare exceptions that he might occasionally make use of the
hitcher in rounding some corner. As for the passing of other barges,
the men upon them seemed to do the greater part of the necessary work in
lifting tow-ropes. At the locks, too, he would stolidly stare at Jack
and me as we turned the handles with the lock-keeper, and then perhaps
grunt approval.
Jack's mother appeared to spend all her time in cooking and other
domestic arrangements, for she never showed herself on deck except to
announce the readiness of a meal by a shrill shout for her boy, rarely
speaking a word to him at such times as he took his food from her hands.
Life on the river seemed to breed taciturnity, and though we boys
generally had something to say, for the most part we jogged on silently
with the horses, who hung their heads and kept on their course as if
half asleep.
To me it was a dreamy time of constant journeying by the shining river;
for at last we passed through a lock into the Isis, and then continued
our way on and on through locks innumerable till we passed out again
into what I suppose must have been the Grand Junction or Regent's
Canal--to this day I am not sure which. The hundred miles or so I was
to have walked to London must have been more than doubled by the
turnings and doublings of the river; but I was never tired, and Jack
never wearied of my society. There was always something to see in the
ever-changing scenery, and sometimes, if we came to a stoppage early in
the evening, Jack brought out a rough line and a willow wand, and we
fished for perch by some rushing weir.
I could have been content to go on for ever leading such a free,
enjoyable life, like some young gipsy, so peaceable and happy seemed my
existence as compared to that with Mr Blakeford; but at last, after a
very long, slow journey, we began to near the metropolis, the goal of my
wanderings, and one evening the pleasant communings of Jack and myself
were suddenly brought to an end.
We had been making slow progress along the canal as it wound now amongst
houses and large buildings. The pleasant fields were far behind, and
the water was no longer bright. It seemed, too, as if we had left the
sun behind, while the tow-path had long grown so hard and rough that I
was glad to get my boots out of the bundle in which they were tied up
and wear them once again.
"Here, you sir," Jack's father shouted to me from the barge, "you must
sheer off now."
It was said in a rough, peremptory fashion that was startling: but he
took no further notice of me, only went on smoking, and I went back to
Jack, who was now seated on the horse just as at our first meeting.
"Feyther say you must go now?"
"Yes," I said dolefully.
"Then you'd better cut off. I say, feyther!"
"Hullo!"
"Lash the tiller, and go and get his bundle and chuck it ashore."
The great rough fellow methodically did as he was told--fastening the
rudder, going slowly forward, and fishing out my bundle from under the
tarpaulin, and turning to me:
"Ketch!" he shouted, and he threw the bundle from the barge to the
shore, where I caught it, and he slowly plodded back, after giving me a
friendly nod.
I took my bundle under my arm and rejoined Jack, who was whistling his
minor air, and then we boys looked at each other dolefully.
"Aintcher going?" said Jack at last.
"Yes," I said, "I'm going directly." Then, quickly pulling out a little
penknife I had in my pocket, I held it to Jack. "Will you have that,
Jack?" I said.
His eyes sparkled as he took it, but he did not speak.
"Do you think I might give your father something for letting me come up
along with you?" I said.
Jack stared in a dull, stolid way for a moment, the idea being so novel
to him. Then his face lit up and he checked the horses.
"Hold on, fey-ther," he shouted; and as if it was quite right to obey
his son's words, the great fellow steered the long barge so that it came
close in.
"There's a beer-shop," said Jack, pointing to a place close by the
towing-path, all glorious with blue and gold announcements of Barclay,
Perkins and Co.'s Entire. "You go and get a pot o' porter--it's
threepence ha'penny, mind--and give it the old man; we'll wait."
I ran up to the door of the public-house and asked the man in
shirt-sleeves and white apron for a pot of porter, which he drew in the
bright pewter vessel, and I paid for it with one of my sixpences,
received my change, and then had to make solemn assurance that I would
bring back the pot before I was allowed to take it down to the
canal-side, where Jack and his father were waiting.
The latter's face was as stolid as ever as I went up to him; but there
was a little extra opening of his eyes as he saw the foaming liquid in
the bright pewter and stretched out his hand.
"Beer ain't good for boys," he said gruffly; and then, blowing off the
froth, he put the vessel to his lips, and slowly poured it all down,
without stopping, to the very last drop; after which he uttered a heavy
sigh of either pleasure or regret, and brought his eyes to bear on me.
"Feyther likes a drop o' beer," said Jack.
"Ketch!" said "father," and he threw the empty pot to me, which luckily
I caught, and stood watching him as he went to the tiller. "Go on!"
Jack gave me a nod, cracked his whip, and the horses drew the slack rope
along the cindery tow-path till it was tight. Jack's father paused in
the act of refilling his pipe and gave me another nod, and Jack's
mother's head came above the hatchway to stare at me as the barge moved,
and I stood watching it with my bundle under my arm and the bright
pewter vessel in my hand.
My reverie was interrupted by a shout from the public-house door, and I
took the pot back, to return once more to the towing-path, sick at heart
and despondent, as I thought of the pleasant days of my short vagabond
career.
It was like parting with very good friends, and I sat down at last upon
a log, one of a pile of timber, full of regrets; for these rough people
had in their way been very kind to me, and I thought that perhaps I
should never see them any more.
CHAPTER TWELVE.
MY FIRST NIGHT IN TOWN.
I did not sit thinking long, for I felt that I must be up and doing.
The long barge had crept silently away and was out of sight, but I felt
that after my dismissal I ought not to follow it; so I crossed a bridge
over the canal and went on and on between rows of houses and along
streets busy with vehicles coming and going, and plenty of people.
For the first half-hour I felt that everybody knew me and was staring at
the boy who had run away from Mr Blakeford's office; but by degrees
that idea passed off and gave place to another, namely, that I was all
alone in this great city, and that it seemed very solitary and strange.
For above an hour I walked on, with the streets growing thicker and the
noise and bustle more confusing. I had at last reached a busy
thoroughfare; gas was burning, and the shops looked showy and
attractive. The one, however, that took my attention was a coffee-shop
in a side street, with a great teapot in the window, and a framed card
on which I read the list of prices, and found that a half-pint cup of
coffee would be one penny, and a loaf and butter twopence.
My money was getting scarce, but I was tired and hungry, and after
staring at that card for a long time I thought I would venture to go in,
and walked right up to the door. I dared, however, go no farther, but
walked straight on, turned, and came back, and so on several times,
without being able to make up my mind; but at last, as I was still
hovering about the place, I caught sight of a policeman advancing in the
distance, and, fully assured that it must be Mary's friend, Mr Revitts,
in search of me, I walked breathlessly into the coffee-house and sat
down at the nearest table.
There were several men and lads seated about, but they were all, to my
great relief, reading papers or periodicals, and I was recovering my
equanimity somewhat, when it was upset by a bustling maid, who came as I
thought fiercely up to me with a sharp "What's for you?"
"A cup of coffee, if you please," I stammered out.
"And roll and butter?"
"Yes, please," I said, somewhat taken aback that she should, as I felt,
have divined my thoughts; and then, in an incredibly short space of
time, a large cup of steaming coffee and a roll and pat of butter were
placed on the table.
After timidly glancing round to find that it was no novel thing for any
one to enter a coffee-house and partake of the fare before me, I
proceeded to make my meal, wishing all the while that Jack had been
there to share it, and wondering where he was, till at last the coffee
was all drunk, the roll and butter eaten, and after paying what was due
I stole off once more into the streets. I went on and on in a
motiveless way, staring at the wonders ever unfolding before me, till,
utterly wearied out, the thought struck me that I must find a
resting-place somewhere, for there were no haystacks here, there was no
friendly tarpaulin to share with Jack, and, look where I would, nothing
that seemed likely to suggest a bed.
I had wandered on through wide, well-lighted streets, and through
narrow, poverty-stricken places, till I was in a busy, noisy row, along
the pavement of which were broad barrows with flaming lamps, and laden
with fish, greengrocery, and fruit. There was noise enough to confuse
anyone used to London; to me it was absolutely deafening.
I had seen by a clock a short time before that it was nearly ten, and my
legs ached so that I could scarcely stand; and yet, in the midst of the
busy throng of people hurrying here and there, I alone seemed to be
without friend or home.
I had been wandering about in a purposeless way for a long time, trying
to see some one who would win my confidence enough to make me ask where
I could obtain a night's lodging, when I suddenly became aware that a
big lad with a long narrow face and little eyes seemed to be watching
me, and I saw what seemed to me so marked a resemblance to the young
scoundrel who had stolen my bundle, that I instinctively grasped it more
tightly and hurried away.
On glancing back, I found that the boy was following, and this alarmed
me so that I hastened back into the big street, walked along some
distance, then turned and ran as hard as I could up one street and down
another, till at last I was obliged to stop and listen to make sure
whether I was pursued.
To my horror I heard advancing steps, and I had just time to shrink back
into a doorway before, by the dim light of the gas, I saw the lad I
sought to avoid run by, and as soon as his heavy boots had ceased to
echo, I crept out and ran in the other direction, till, completely worn
out, I sat down upon a doorstep in a deserted street, and at last
dropped off fast asleep.
I was startled into wakefulness by a strange glare shining in my face,
and, looking up, there was a round glowing eye of light seeming to
search me through and through.
For a few moments I could do nothing but stare helplessly and then
started nervously as a gruff voice exclaimed--"Here; what's in that
bundle?"
"My clothes and clean shirt, sir," I faltered. "Let's look."
My hands shook so that I was some time before I could get the
handkerchief undone; but in the meantime I had been able to make out
that the speaker was a policeman, and in my confusion at being awakened
out of a deep sleep, I associated his coming with instructions from Mr
Blakeford.
At last, though, I laid my bundle open on the step, and my questioner
seemed satisfied.
"Tie it up," he said, and I hastened to obey. "Now, then, young
fellow," he continued, "how is it you are sitting here asleep? Why
don't you go home?"
"Please, sir, I came up from the country to-day, and I ran away from a
boy who wanted to steal my bundle, and then I sat down and fell asleep."
"That's a likely story," he said, making the light of the lantern play
upon my face. "Where were you going?"
"I don't know, sir. Yes I do--to Mr Rowle."
"And where's Mr Rowle's?"
"It's--it's--stop a minute, sir. I've got the address written down.
It's at a great printing-office."
As I spoke I felt in my pockets one after the other for the address of
Mr Rowle's brother, but to my dismay I found that it was gone, and,
search how I would, there was no sign of it in either pocket. At last I
looked up full in the policeman's face, to exclaim pitifully--"Please,
sir, it's gone."
"Is it now?" he said in a bantering, sneering tone. "That's a wonder,
that is: specially if it warn't never there. Look here, young fellow,
what have you come to London for?"
"Please, sir, I've come to seek my fortune."
"Oh, you have, have you? Now look here, which are you, a young innocent
from the country, or an artful one? You may just as well speak out, for
I'm sure to find out all about it."
"Indeed I've come up from the country, sir, to try and get a place, for
I was so unhappy down there."
"Then you've run away from your father and mother, eh?"
"No, sir; they are both dead."
"Well, then, you've run away from home, eh?"
"No, sir," I said sadly; "I haven't any home."
"Well, what's got to be done? You can't stop here all night."
"Can't I, sir?"
"Can't you, sir? Why, what a young gooseberry it is! Have you been to
London before?"
"No, sir."
"When did you come up?"
"Only this evening, sir."
"And don't you know that if I leave you here some one'll have your
bundle, and perhaps you too, before morning?"
"I was so tired, sir, I fell asleep."
"Come along o' me. The best thing I can do for you's to lock you up
till morning."
"Thank you, sir."
He burst out into a roar of laughter as he turned off the light of his
bull's-eye.
"Come along, youngster," he said, "it's all right, I see. Why, you are
as green as a gooseberry."
"Am I, sir?" I said piteously, for I felt very sorry that I was so
green, as he called it, but I was too much confused to thoroughly
understand what he meant.
"Greener, ever so much. Why, if you'd gone down Covent Garden to sleep
amongst the baskets you'd have got swept up for cabbage leaves."
"Covent Garden Market, sir? Is that close here?" I said.
"As if you didn't know," he replied, returning to his doubting vein.
"I've heard my papa speak of it," I said, eager to convince him that I
was speaking the truth. "He said the finest of all the fruit in the
country went there, and that the flowers in the central--central--"
"Avenue?" suggested the constable.
"Yes, central avenue--were always worth a visit."
"That's so. And that's what your papa said, eh?"
"Yes, sir, I have heard him say so more than once."
"Then don't you think, young fellow, as it looks very suspicious for a
young gent as talks about his _papa_ to be found sleeping on a
doorstep?"
"Yes, sir, I suppose it does," I said, "but I have no friends now."
"Well, you'd better come along o' me, and tell your tale to the
inspector. I'm not going to leave you here. He'll soon get to know the
rights of it. You've run away, that's what you've done."
"Yes, sir," I said; "I did run away, but--"
"Never mind the buts, youngster. You'll have to be sent back to your
sorrowing friends, my absconding young sloper."
"No, no, no?" I cried wildly, as he took hold of my cuff. "Don't send
me back, pray don't send me back."
"None o' that 'ere now," he said, giving me a rough shake. "You just
come along quietly."
"Oh, I will, sir, indeed I will!" I cried, "but don't, pray don't send
me back."
"Why not? How do you know but it won't be best for yer? You come along
o' me sharp, and we'll soon physic your constitution into a right
state."
The agony of dread that seized me at that moment was more than I could
bear. In imagination I saw myself dragged back to Mr Blakeford, and
saw the smile of triumph on his black-looking face, as he had me again
in his power, and, boy as I was then, and full of young life and
hopefulness, I believe that I would gladly have jumped into the river
sooner than have had to trust to his tender mercies again.
In my horror, then, I flung myself on my knees before the policeman, and
clasped his leg as I appealed wildly to him to let me go.
"If you sent me back, sir," I cried piteously, "he'd kill me."
"And then we should kill him," he said, laughing. "Not as that would be
much comfort to you. Here, get up."
"You don't know what I suffered, sir, after poor papa and mamma died.
He used me so cruelly, and he beat me, too, dreadfully. And now, after
I have run away, if he gets me back he will be more cruel than before."
"Well, I s'pose he wouldn't make it very pleasant for you, youngster.
There, come: get up, and you shall tell the inspector, too, all about
it."
"No, no, no," I cried wildly, as in spite of his efforts to get me up I
still clung to his leg.
"Come, none of that, you know. I shall have to carry you. Get up."
He seized me more roughly, and dragged me to my feet, when with a hoarse
cry of dread, I made a dash to escape, freed my arm and ran for freedom
once again, as if it were for my life.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN.
P.C. REVITTS.
In my blind fear of capture I did not study which way I went, but
doubling down the first turning I came to, I ran on, and then along the
next, to stop short directly afterwards, being sharply caught by the
constable from whom I had fled, and who now held me fast.
"Ah! you thought it, did you?" he said coolly, while, panting and
breathless, I feebly struggled to get away. "But it won't do, my lad.
You've got to come along o' me."
"And then I shall be sent back," I cried, as I tried to wrestle myself
free. "I've never done any harm, sir; and he'll half kill me. You
don't know him. Pray let me go."
"I know you to be a reglar young coward," he said roughly. "Why, when I
was your age, I shouldn't have begun snivelling like this. Now, then,
look here. You ain't come to London only to see your Mr Hot Roll, or
whatever you call him. Is there any one else you know as I can take you
to? I don't want to lock you up."
"No, sir, nobody," I faltered. "Yes, there is--there's Mr Revitts."
"Mr who?"
"Mr Revitts, sir," I said excitedly. "He's a policeman, like you."
"Ah, that's something like a respectable reference!" he said. "What
division?"
"What did you say, sir?"
"I said what division?"
"Please, sir, I don't know what you mean."
"Do you know P.C. Revitts, VV division?"
"No, sir," I said, with my heart sinking. "It's Mr William Revitts I
know."
"Which his name is William," he muttered. Then, aloud, "Here, come
along."
"No, no, sir," I cried in alarm. "Don't send me back."
"Come along, I tell yer."
"What's up?" said a gruff voice; and a second policeman joined us.
"Don't quite know yet," said the first man; and then he said something
in a low voice to the other, with the result that, without another word,
I was hurried up and down street after street till I felt ready to drop.
Suddenly my guide turned into a great blank-looking building and spoke
to another policeman, and soon, after a little shouting, a tall,
burly-looking constable in his buttoned-up greatcoat came slowly towards
us in the whitewashed room.
"Here's a lad been absconding," said my guide, "and he says he'll give
you for a reference."
"Eh! me?" said the newcomer, making me start as he stared hard in my
face. "Who are you, boy. I don't know you."
"Antony Grace, please, sir," I faltered.
"And who's Antony Grace?"
"There, I thought it was a do," said the first constable roughly. "What
d'yer mean by gammoning me in this way? Come along."
"No, sir, please. Pray give me time," I cried. "Don't send me back.
Please, Mr Revitts, I have run away from Mr Blakeford, and if I am
sent back to Rowford he'll kill me. I know he will."
"'Old 'ard, Smith," said the big constable. "Look here, boy. What did
you say? Where did you come from?"
"Rowford, sir. Pray don't send me back."
"And what's the name of the chap as you're afraid on?"
"Mr Blakeford, sir."
"I'm blest!"
"What did you say, sir?"
"I said I'm blest, boy."
"Then you do know him?" said the first constable.
"I don't quite know as I do, yet," was the reply.
"Well, look here, I want to get back. You take charge of him. I found
him on a doorstep in Great Coram Street. There's his bundle. If he
don't give a good account of himself, have it entered and lock him up."
"All right," said the other, after a few moments' hesitation.
"Then I'm off," said the first man; and he left me in charge of the big
constable, who stood staring down at me so fiercely, as I thought, that
I looked to right and left for a way of escape.
"None o' that, sir," he said sharply, in the words and way of the other,
whose heavy footsteps were now echoing down the passage. "Lookye here,
if you try to run away, I've only got to shout, and hundreds of
thousands of pleecemen will start round about to stop yer."
As he spoke he pushed me into a Windsor arm-chair, where I sat as if in
a cage, while he held up one finger to shake in my face.
"As the Clerkenwell magistrate said t'other day, the law's a great
network, and spreads wide. You're new in the net o' the law, young
fellow, and you can't get out. Just look here, we knows a deal in the
law and police, and I can find out in two twos whether you are telling
me the truth or doing the artful."
"Please, sir--"
"Hold your tongue, sir! You can make your defence when your time comes;
and mind this, it's my dooty to tell you that what you says now may be
used in evidence again you."
Thus silenced, I stood gazing up in his big-whiskered face, that seemed
to loom over me, in the gaslight, and wondered why there should be so
much form and ceremony over taking my word.
"Now look here," he said pulling out a notebook and pencil, like the
auctioneer's, only smaller, and seeming as if he were going to take an
inventory of my small person. "Now, look here," he repeated, moistening
the point of his pencil, "you told Joe Smith you knowed me, and I never
set eyes on you afore."
"Please, sir," I said hastily, "I told him I know Mr Revitts, who's in
the police."
"Yes, and you said you had run away from Rowford and a Mr Blake--
Blake--What's his name?"
"Blakeford, sir," I said despondently, for it seemed that this was not
my Mr Revitts.
"Blakeford. That's right; and he ill-used you?"
"Yes, sir."
"He's a little fair man, ain't he, with blue eyes?" And he rustled the
leaves of his notebook as if about to take down my answer.
"No, sir," I cried eagerly; "he's tall and dark, and has short hair, and
very white teeth."
"Ho! Tall, is he?" said the constable, making believe to write, and
then holding out his pencil at me. "He's a nice, kind, amiable man,
ain't he, as wouldn't say an unkind word to a dorg?"
"Oh no, sir," I said, shuddering; "that's not my Mr Blakeford."
"Ho! Now, then, once more. There's a servant lives there at that
house, and her name's Jane--ain't it?"
"No, sir, Mary."
"And she's got red hair and freckles, and she--she's very little and--"
"No, no," I cried excitedly, for after my heart had seemed to sink
terribly low, it now leaped at his words. "That isn't Mary, and you are
saying all this to try me, sir. You--you are Mr William Revitts, I
know you are;" and I caught him eagerly by the arm.
"Which I don't deny it, boy," he said, still looking at me suspiciously,
and removing my hand. "Revitts is my name. P.C. Revitts, VV 240; and I
ain't ashamed of it. But only to think of it. How did you know of me,
though?"
"I wrote Mary's letters for her, sir."
"Whew! That's how it was she had so improved in her writing. And so
you've been living in the same house along a her?"
"Yes, sir," I said, "and she was so good and kind."
"When she wasn't in a tantrum, eh?"
"Yes, sir, when she wasn't in a--"
"Tantrum, that's it, boy. We should ha' been spliced afore now if it
hadn't been for her tantrums. But only to think o' your being picked up
in the street like this. And what am I to do now? You've absconded,
you have; you know you've absconded in the eyes of the law."
"Write to Mary, please, sir, and ask her if it wasn't enough to make me
run away."
"Abscond, my lad, abscond," said the constable.
"Yes, sir," I said, with a shiver, "abscond."
"You didn't--you didn't," he said in a half hesitating way, as he felt
and pinched my bundle, and then ran his hand down by my jacket-pocket.
"You didn't--these are all your own things in this, are they?"
"Oh yes, sir!" I said.
"Because some boys when they absconds, makes mistakes, and takes what
isn't theirs."
"Do they, sir?"
"Yes, my lad, and I'm puzzled about you. You see, it's my duty to treat
you like a runaway 'prentice, and I'm uneasy in my mind about what to
do. You see, you did run away."
"Oh yes, sir, I did run away. I was obliged to. Mr Blakeford wanted
me to tell lies."
"Well, that seems to come easy enough to most people," he said.
"But I am telling the truth, sir," I said. "Write down to Rowford, and
ask Mary if I'm not telling the truth."
"Truth! Oh, I know that, my boy," he said kindly. "Here, give's your
hand. Come along."
"But you won't send me back, sir?"
"Send you back? Not I, boy. He's a blackguard, that Blakeford. I know
him, and I only wish he'd do something, and I had him to take up for it.
Mary's told me all about him, and if ever we meets, even if it's five
pounds or a month, I'll punch his head: that's what I'll do for him. Do
yer hear?"
"Yes, sir," I said.
"Now, what's to be done with you?"
I shook my head and looked at him helplessly.
He stood looking at me for a few moments and then went into another
room, where there was a policeman sitting at a desk, like a clerk, with
a big book before him. I could see him through the other doorway, and
they talked for a few minutes; and then Mr Revitts came back, and stood
staring at me.
"P'r'aps I'm a fool," he muttered. "P'r'aps I ain't. Anyhow, I'll do
it. Look here, youngster, I'm going to trust you, though as you've
absconded I ought to take you before a magistrate or the inspector, but
I won't, as you're a friend of my Mary."
"Thank you, sir," I said.
"And if you turn out badly, why, woe betide you."
"Please, sir, I won't turn out badly if I can help it; but Mr Blakeford
said I was good for nothing."
"Mr Blakeford be blowed! I wouldn't ask him for a character for a
dorg; and as for Mary, she don't want his character, and he may keep it.
I'll take her without. I wouldn't speak to any one like this,
youngster; but you know that gal's got a temper, though she's that good
at heart that--that--"
"She'd nurse you so tenderly if you were ill," I said enthusiastically,
"that you wouldn't wish to be better."
He held out his hand and gave mine a long and solemn shake.
"Thankye, youngster," he said, "thankye for that. You and I will be
good friends, I see. I _will_ trust your word, hang me if I don't.
Here, come along."
"Are you--are you going to take me up, sir?" I faltered, with a shiver
of apprehension.
"I'm a-going to give you the door-key where I lodges, my lad. I'm on
night duty, and shan't be home till quarter-past six, so you may have my
bed and welcome. Now, look here," he said, "don't you go and let
anybody fool you. I'm going to show you the end of a long street, and
you'll go right to the top, then turn to the right along the road till
you come to the fourth turning, and on the right-hand side, number
twenty-seven, is where I lodges. Here's the key. You puts it in the
lock, turns it, shuts the door after you, and then goes gently upstairs
to the second-pair back."
"Second-pair back, sir?" I said dubiously.
"Well there, then, to the back room atop of the house, and there you may
sleep till I come. Now then, this way out."
It was a change that I could not have believed in, and I accompanied the
constable wonderingly as he led me out of the police-station and through
several dark-looking streets, till he stopped short before a long dim
vista, where straight before me two lines of gaslights stretched right
away till they seemed to end in a bright point.
"Now, then," he said, "you can't make any mistake there."
"No, sir."
"Off you go then to the top, and then you'll find yourself in a big
road."
"Yes, sir."
"Turn to the right, and then count four streets on the right-hand side.
Do you understand?"
"Yes, sir."
"Go down that street about halfway, till you see a gaslight shining on a
door with number twenty-seven upon it. Twenty-seven Caroline Street.
Now, do you understand? Straight up to the top, and then it's right,
right, right, all the way."
"I understand, sir."
"Good luck to you then, be off; here's my sergeant."
I should have stopped to thank him, but he hurried me away; and half
forgetting my weariness, I went along the street, found at last the road
at the end, followed it as directed, and then in the street of little
houses found one where the light from the lamp shone as my guide had
said.
I paused with the key in my hand, half fearing to use it, but summoning
up my courage, I found the door opened easily and closed quietly, when I
stood in a narrow passage with the stairs before me, and following them
to the top, I hesitated, hardly knowing back from front. A deep heavy
breathing from one room, however, convinced me that that could not be
the back, so I tried the other door, to find it yield, and there was
just light enough from the window to enable me to find the bed, on which
I threw myself half dressed, and slept soundly till morning, when I
opened my eyes to find Mr Revitts taking off his stiff uniform coat.
"Look here, youngster," he said, throwing himself upon the bed, "I
dessay you're tired, so don't you get up. Have another nap, and then
call me at ten, and we'll have some breakfast. How--how--" he said,
yawning.
"What did you say, sir?"
"How--Mary look?"
"Very well indeed, sir. She has looked much better lately, and--"
I stopped short, for a long-drawn breath from where Mr Revitts had
thrown himself upon the bed told me plainly enough that he was asleep.
I was too wakeful now to follow his example, and raising myself softly
upon my elbow, I had a good look at my new friend, to see that he did
not look so big and burly without his greatcoat, but all the same he was
a stoutly built, fine-looking man, with a bluff, honest expression of
countenance.
I stayed there for some minutes, thinking about him, and then about
Mary, and Mr Blakeford, and Hetty, and I wondered how the lawyer had
got on before the magistrates without me. Then, rising as quietly as I
could, I washed and finished dressing myself before sitting down to wait
patiently for my host's awakening.
The first hour passed very tediously, for there was nothing to see from
the window but chimney-pots, and though it was early I began to feel
that I had not breakfasted, and three hours or so was a long time to
wait. The room was clean, but shabbily furnished, and as I glanced
round offered little in the way of recreation, till my eyes lit on a set
of hanging shelves with a few books thereon, and going on tiptoe across
the room, I began to read their backs, considering which I should
choose.
There was the "Farmer of Inglewood Forest," close by the "Old English
Baron," with the "Children of the Abbey," and "Robinson Crusoe." Side
by side with them was a gilt-edged Prayer-book, upon opening which I
found that it was the property of "Mr William Revitts, a present from
his effectinat friend Mary Bloxam." On the opposite leaf was the
following verse:--
"When this yu see, remember me,
And bare me in yure mind;
And don't forget old Ingerland,
And the lass yu lef behind."
The Bible on the shelf was from the same source. Besides these were
several books in shabby covers--Bogatsky's "Golden Treasury," the
"Pilgrim's Progress," and the "Young Man's Best Companion."
I stood looking at them for a few minutes, and then reached down poor
old "Robinson Crusoe," bore it to the window, and for the fourth time in
my life began its perusal.
In a very short time my past troubles, my precarious future, and my
present hunger were all forgotten, and I was far away from the attic in
North London, watching the proceedings of Robinson in that wonderful
island, having skipped over a good many of the early adventures for the
sake of getting as soon as possible into that far-away home of mystery
and romance.
The strengthening of his house, the coming of the savages, the intensely
interesting occurrences of the story, so enchained me, that I read on
and on till I was suddenly startled by the voice of Mr Revitts
exclaiming:
"Hallo, you! I say, what's o'clock?"
CHAPTER FOURTEEN.
BREAKFAST WITH THE LAW, AND WHAT FOLLOWED.
I let the book fall in a shamefaced way as my host took a great, ugly
old silver watch from beneath his pillow, looked at it, shook it, looked
at it again, and then exclaimed:
"It's either 'levin o'clock or else she's been up to her larks. Hush!"
He held up his hand, for just then a clock began to strike, and we both
counted eleven.
"Then she was right for once in a way. Why didn't you call me at ten?"
"I forgot, sir. I was reading," I faltered; for I felt I had been
guilty of a great breach of trust.
"And you haven't had no breakfast," he said, dressing himself quickly,
and then plunging his face into the basin of water, to splash and blow
loudly, before having a most vigorous rub with the towel. "Why, you
must be as hungry as a hunter," he continued, as he halted in what was
apparently his morning costume of flannel shirt and trousers. "We'll
very soon have it ready, though. Shove the cloth on, youngster; the
cups and saucers are in that cupboard, that's right, look alive."
I hastened to do what he wished, and in a few minutes had spread the
table after the fashion observed by Mary at Mr Blakeford's, while Mr
Revitts took a couple of rashers of bacon out of a piece of newspaper on
the top of the bookshelf, and some bread and a preserve jar containing
butter out of a box under the table. Next he poured some coffee out of
a canister into the pot, and having inserted his feet into slippers, he
prepared to go out of the room.
"Bedroom, with use of the kitchen, for a single gentleman," he said,
winking one eye. "That's me. Back in five minutes, youngster."
It must have been ten minutes before he returned, with the coffee-pot in
one hand and the two rashers of hot sputtering bacon in the other, when
in the most friendly spirit he drew a chair to the table, and saying,
"Help yourself, youngster," placed one rasher upon my plate and took the
other upon his own.
"I say, only to think of my mate coming upon you fast asleep in London,"
he said, tearing me off a piece of bread. "Why, if he'd been looking
for you, he couldn't ha' done it. Don't be afraid o' the sugar. There
ain't no milk."
I was very hungry, and I gladly began my breakfast, since it was offered
in so sociable a spirit.
"Let's see. How did you say Mary looked?"
"Very well indeed, sir," I replied.
"Send me--come, tuck in, my lad, you're welcome--send me any message?"
"She did not know I was coming, sir."
"No, of course not. So you've come to London to seek your fortune, eh?"
"Yes, sir."
"Where are you going to look for it first?" he said, grinning.
"I don't know, sir," I said, rather despondently.
"More don't I. Pour me out another cup o' coffee, my lad, while I cut
some more bread and scrape. Only to think o' my mate meeting you! And
so Mary looks well, does she?"
"Yes, sir."
"And ain't very comfortable, eh?"
"Oh no, sir! It's a very uncomfortable place."
"Ah, I shall have to find her a place after all! She might just as well
have said _yes_ last time, instead of going into a tantrum. I say,
come; you ain't half eating. I shall write and tell her I've seen you."
If I was half eating before, I was eating nothing now, for his words
suggested discovery, and my being given up to Mr Blakeford: when,
seeing my dismay, my host laughed at me.
"There, get on with your toke, youngster. If I tell Mary where you are,
you don't suppose she'll go and tell old Blakeford?"
"Oh no, sir! she wouldn't do that," I said, taking heart again, and
resuming my breakfast.
"And I say, youngster, suppose you don't say _sir_ to me any more. I'm
only a policeman, you know. I say, you were a bit scared last night,
weren't you?"
"Yes, sir--yes, I mean, I was very much afraid."
"Ah, that's the majesty of the law, that is! Do you know, I've only got
to go into a crowd, and just give my head a nod, and they disperse
directly. The police have wonderful power in London."
"Have they, sir?"
"Wonderful, my lad. We can do anything we like, so long as it's men.
Hundreds of 'em 'll give way before a half-dozen of us. It's only when
we've got to deal with the women that we get beat; and that ain't no
shame, is it?"
"No, sir," I said, though I had not the faintest notion why. "You're
quite right," he said; "it ain't no shame. What! Have you done?"
"Yes, sir--yes, I mean."
"Won't you have that other cup of coffee?"
"No, thank you."
"Then I will," he said, suiting the action to the word. "Well, now
then, youngster, what are you going to do, eh?"
"I'm going to try and find Mr Rowle's brother, sir, at a great
printing-office," I said, searching my pockets, and at last finding the
address given me. "Perhaps he'll help me to find a situation."
"Ah, p'r'aps so. They do have boys in printing-offices. Now, if you
were a bit bigger you might have joined the police, and got to be a
sergeant some day. It's a bad job, but it can't be helped. You must
grow."
"I am growing fast, sir," I replied.
"Ah, I s'pose so. Well, now lookye here. You go and see Mr Rowle, and
hear what he says, and then come back to me."
"Come back here?" I said, hesitating.
"Unless you've got somewhere better to go, my lad. There, don't you
mind coming. You're an old friend o' my Mary, and so you're an old
friend o' mine. So, for a week, or a fortnight, or a month, if you like
to bunk down along o' me till you can get settled, why, you're welcome;
and if a man can say a better word than that, why, tell him how."
"I--I should be very, very grateful if you would give me a night or
two's lodging, sir," I said, "and--and I've got six shillings yet."
"Then don't you spend more than you can help, youngster. Do you know
what's the cheapest dinner you can get?"
"No, sir--no, I mean."
"Penny loaf and a pen'orth o' cheese. You come back here and have tea
along o' me. I don't go on duty till night. There, no shuffling," he
said, grinning. "If you don't come back I'll write and tell old
Blakeford."
I could see that he did not mean it, and soon after I left my bundle
there, and started off to try if I could find Mr Rowle's brother at the
great printing-office in Short Street, Fetter Lane.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN.
"BOYS WANTED."
I went over the address in my own mind to make sure, and also repeated
the directions given me by Mr Revitts, so as to make no mistake in
going into the City. Then I thought over again Mr Rowle's remarks
about his brother, his name, Jabez, his age, and his being exactly like
himself. That would, I thought, make it easy for me to recognise him;
and in this spirit I walked on through the busy streets, feeling a good
deal confused at being pushed and hustled about so much, while twice I
was nearly run over in crossing the roads.
At last, after asking, by Mr Revitts' advice, my way of different
policemen when I was at fault, I found myself soon after two in Short
Street, Fetter Lane, facing a pile of buildings from the base of which
came the hiss and pant of steam, with the whirr, clang, and roar of
machinery; while on the doorpost was a bright zinc plate with the legend
"Ruddle and Lister, General Printers;" and above that, written on a card
in a large legible hand, and tacked against the woodwork, the words
"Boys Wanted."
This announcement seemed to take away my breath, and I hesitated for a
few minutes before I dared approach the place; but I went up at last,
and then, seeing a severe-looking man in a glass box reading a
newspaper, I shrank back and walked on a little way, forgetting all
about Mr Jabez Rowle in my anxiety to try and obtain a situation by
whose means I could earn my living.
At last, in a fit of desperation, I went up to the glass case, and the
man reading the newspaper let it fall upon his knees and opened a little
window.
"Now then, what is it?" he said in a gruff voice.
"If you please, sir, there's a notice about boys wanted--"
"Down that passage, upstairs, first floor," said the man gruffly, and
banged down the window.
I was a little taken aback, but I pushed a swing-door, and went with a
beating heart along the passage, on one side of which were rooms fitted
up something like Mr Blakeford's office, and on the other side a great
open floor stacked with reams of paper, and with laths all over the
ceiling, upon which boys with curious pieces of wood, something like
long wooden crutches, were hanging up sheets of paper to dry, while at
broad tables by the windows I could see women busily folding more sheets
of paper, as if making books.
It was but a casual glance I had as I passed on, and then went by a room
with the door half open and the floor carpeted inside. There was a
pleasant, musical voice speaking, and then there was a burst of
laughter, all of which seemed out of keeping in that dingy place, full
of the throb of machinery, and the odour of oil and steam.
At the end of the passage was the staircase, and going up, I was nearly
knocked over by a tall, fat-headed boy, who blundered roughly against
me, and then turned round to cry indignantly--
"Now, stoopid, where are yer a-coming to?"
"Can you tell me, please, where I am to ask about boys being wanted?" I
said mildly.
"Oh, find out! There ain't no boys wanted here."
"Not wanted here!" I faltered, with my hopes terribly dashed, for I had
been building castles high in the air.
"No; be off!" he said roughly, when a new character appeared on the
scene in the shape of a business-looking man in a white apron, carrying
down an iron frame, and having one hand at liberty, he made use of it to
give the big lad a cuff on the ear.
"You make haste and fetch up those galleys, Jem Smith;" and the boy went
on down three stairs at a time. "What do you want, my man?" he
continued, turning to me.
"I saw there were boys wanted, sir, and I was going upstairs."
"When that young scoundrel told you a lie. There, go on, and in at that
swing-door; the overseer's office is at the end."
I thanked him, and went on, pausing before a door blackened by dirty
hands, and listened for a moment before going in.
The hum of machinery sounded distant here, and all within seemed very
still, save a faint clicking noise, till suddenly I heard a loud
clap-clapping, as if a flat piece of wood were being banged down and
then struck with a mallet; and directly after came a hammering, as if
some one was driving a wooden peg.
There were footsteps below, and I dared not hesitate longer; so, pushing
the door, it yielded, and I found myself in a great room, where some
forty men in aprons and shirt-sleeves were busy at what at the first
glance seemed to be desks full of little compartments, from which they
were picking something as they stood, but I was too much confused to
notice more than that they took not the slightest notice of me, as I
stopped short, wondering where the overseer's room would be.
At one corner I could see an old man at a desk, with a boy standing
beside him, both of them shut up in a glass case, as if they were
curiosities; in another corner there was a second glass case, in which a
fierce-looking man with a shiny bald head and glittering spectacles was
gesticulating angrily to one of the men in white aprons, and pointing to
a long, narrow slip of paper.
I waited for a moment, and then turned to the man nearest to me.
"Can you tell me, please, which is the overseer's office?" I said, cap
in hand.
"Folio forty-seven--who's got folio forty-seven?" he said aloud.
"Here!" cried a voice close by.
"Make even.--Get out; don't bother me."
I shrank away, confused and perplexed, and a dark, curly-haired man on
the other side turned upon me a pair of deeply set stern eyes, as he
rattled some little square pieces of lead into something he held in his
hand.
"What is it, boy?" he said in a deep, low voice.
"Can you direct me to the overseer's office, sir?"
"That's it, boy, where that gentleman in spectacles is talking."
"Wigging old Morgan," said another man, laughing.
"Ah!" said the first speaker, "that's the place, boy;" and he turned his
eyes upon a slip of paper in front of his desk.
I said, "Thank you!" and went on along the passage between two rows of
the frame desks to where the fierce-looking bald man was still
gesticulating, and as I drew near I could hear what he said.
"I've spoken till I'm tired of speaking; your slips are as foul as a
ditch. Confound you, sir, you're a perfect disgrace to the whole
chapel. Do you think your employers keep readers to do nothing else but
correct your confounded mistakes? Read your stick, sir--read your
stick!"
"Very sorry," grumbled the man, "but it was two o'clock this morning,
and I was tired as a dog."
"Don't talk to me, sir; I don't care if it was two o'clock, or twelve
o'clock, or twenty-four o'clock. I say that slip's a disgrace to you;
and for two pins, sir--for two pins I'd have it framed and stuck up for
the men to see. Be off and correct it.--Now, then, what do you want?"
This was to me, and I was terribly awe-stricken at the fierce aspect of
the speaker, whose forehead was now of a lively pink.
"If you please, sir, I saw that you wanted boys, and--"
"No; I don't want boys," he raved. "I'm sick of the young monkeys; but
I'm obliged to have them."
"I am sorry, sir--" I faltered.
"Oh yes; of course. Here, stop! where are you going?"
"Please, sir, you said you didn't want any boys."
"You're very sharp, ain't you? Now hold your tongue, and then answer
what I ask and no more. What are you--a machine boy or reader?"
"If you please, sir, I--I don't know--I thought--I want--"
"Confound you; hold your tongue!" he roared. "Where did you work last?"
"At--at Mr Blakeford's," I faltered, feeling bound to speak the truth.
"Blakeford's! Blakeford's!--I know no Blakeford's. At machine?"
"No, sir! I wrote all day."
"Wrote? What, wasn't it a printing-office?"
"No, sir."
"How dare you come wasting my time like this, you insolent young
scoundrel! Be off! Get out with you! I never knew such insolence in
my life."
I shrank away, trembling, and began to retreat down the avenue, this
time with the men's faces towards me, ready to gaze in my red and guilty
countenance, for I felt as if I had been guilty of some insult to the
majesty of the printing-office. To my great relief, though, the men
were too busy to notice me; but I heard one say to another, "Old
Brimstone's hot this morning." Then I passed on, and saw the dark man
looking at me silently from beneath his overhanging brows; and the next
moment, heartsick and choking with the effects of this rebuff, the
swing-door was thrown open by the fat-headed boy coming in, and as I
passed out, unaccustomed to its spring, the boy contrived that it would
strike me full in the back, just as if the overseer had given me a rude
push to drive me away.
I descended the stairs with the spirit for the moment crushed out of me;
and with my eyes dim with disappointment, I was passing along the
passage, when, as I came to the open door of the carpeted room, a man's
voice exclaimed--
"No, no, Miss Carr, you really shall not. We'll send it on by one of
the boys."
"Oh, nonsense, Mr Lister; I can carry it."
"Yes, yes; of course you can, but I shall not let you. Here, boy, come
here."
I entered the room nervously, to find myself in presence of a handsome,
well-dressed man, another who was stout and elderly, and two young
ladies, while upon the table lay a parcel of books, probably the subject
of the remark.
"Hallo! what boy are you?" said the younger man. "Oh! one of the new
ones, I suppose."
"No, sir," I said, with voice trembling and my face working, for I was
unnerved by the treatment I had just received and the dashing of my
hopes; "I came to be engaged, but--but the gentleman upstairs turned me
away."
"Why?" said the elder man sharply.
"Because I had not been in the printing-office, sir."
"Oh, of course!" he said, nodding. "Of course. We want lads accustomed
to the trade, my man."
"You should teach him the trade, Mr Ruddle," said one of the young
ladies quickly, and I darted a look of gratitude at her.
"Too busy, Miss Carr," he said, smiling at her. "We don't keep a
printer's school."
"I'll teach him," whispered the young man eagerly, though I heard him;
"I'll teach him anything, if you'll promise not to be so cruel."
"What a bargain!" she replied, laughing; and she turned away.
"I don't think we need keep you, my lad," said the young man bitterly.
"Indeed!" said the other young lady; "why, I thought he was to carry our
parcel of books?"
"But he is a strange boy, my dear young ladies," said the elder man;
"I'll ring for one from the office."
"No; don't, pray!" said the lady addressed as Miss Carr quickly. "I
don't think we will carry the parcel. You will carry it for us, will
you not?"
"Oh, yes, indeed I will!" I cried eagerly; and I stepped forward, for
there was something very winning in the speakers voice.
"Stop a moment, my man," said the elder gentleman rather sternly, while
the younger stood biting his lips; "where do your father and mother
live?"
Those words made something rise in my throat, and I looked wildly at
him, but could not speak.
He did not see my face, for he had taken up a pen and drawn a memorandum
slip towards him.
"Well; why don't you speak?" he said sharply, and as he raised his eyes
I tried, but could not get out a word, only pointed mutely to the shabby
band of crape upon my cap.
"Ah!"
There was a deep sigh close by me, and I saw that the young lady
addressed as Miss Carr was deadly pale, and for the first time I noticed
that she was in deep mourning.
"My dear Miss Carr!" whispered the young man earnestly.
"Don't speak to me for a minute," she said in the same tone; and then I
saw her face working and lip quivering as she gazed wistfully at me.
"Poor lad!" said the elder man abruptly. Then, "Your friends, my boy,
your relatives?"
"I have none, sir," I said huskily, "only an uncle, and I don't know for
certain where he lives."
"But you don't mean that you are alone in the world?" said the young man
quickly, and he glanced at the lady as he spoke.
"Yes, sir," I said quietly, for I had now recovered myself, "I am quite
alone, and I want to get a situation to earn my living."
The elder gentleman turned upon me and seemed to look me through and
through.
"Now, look here, young fellow," he said, "you are either a very
unfortunate boy or a designing young impostor."
"Mr Ruddle!" exclaimed Miss Carr indignantly; and I saw the young man's
eyes glitter as he gazed at her sweet, sad face, twenty times more
attractive now than when she was speaking lightly a minute before.
"I don't want to be harsh, my dear, but here we are obliged to be firm
and business-like. Now, boy, answer me; have you been to a good
school?"
"No, sir," I said, speaking sharply now, for his use of the word
"impostor" stung me; "I was educated at home."
"Humph! where do you come from?"
"Rowford, sir."
"Town on a tall hill?"
"No, sir," I said in surprise; "Rowford is quite in a hole; but we lived
four miles from Rowford, sir, on the Cawleigh road."
"Then you know Leydon Wood."
"Oh yes, sir! that's where papa used to take me to collect specimens."
"Humph! Don't say _papa_, my boy. Boys who go into the world to get
their living don't speak of their papas. John Lister!"
"Wait a minute, Ruddle," said the younger man, whose back was towards
us; and I saw that he was leaning over Miss Carr and holding her hand.
"If you wish it," he whispered softly, "it shall be done."
"I do wish it," she said with an earnest look in her large eyes as she
gazed kindly at me; and the young man turned round, flushed and excited.
I was shrinking away towards the door, pained and troubled, for I felt
that I had no business there, when Mr Lister motioned me to stop, and
said something to the elder gentleman.
He in turn screwed up his face, and gave the younger a comical look.
"Your father would not have done so, John Lister," he said. "What am I
to say, Miss Carr?"
For answer the young lady rose and went and laid her hands in one of
his.
"If you please, Mr Ruddle," she said in a low musical voice, "it will
be a kindly act."
"God bless you, my dear," he said tenderly. "I believe if I were with
you long you'd make me as much your slave as you have John Lister."
"Then you will?"
"Yes, my dear, yes, if it is really as he says."
She darted an intelligent look at me, and then hastily pulled down her
crape veil as Mr Lister followed her to her chair.
"Come here, my lad," said Mr Ruddle, in quiet business-like tones. "We
want boys here, but boys used to the printing trade, for it does not
answer our purpose to teach them; we have no time. But as you seem a
sharp, respectable boy, and pretty well educated, you might, perhaps, be
willing to try."
"Oh, if you'll try me, I'll strive so hard to learn, sir!" I cried
excitedly.
"I hope you will, my boy," he said drily, "but don't profess too much;
and mind this, you are not coming here as a young gentleman, but as a
reading-boy--to work."
"Yes, sir. I want to work," I said earnestly.
"That's well. Now, look here. I want to know a little more about you.
If, as you say, you came from near Rowford, you can tell me the names of
some of the principal people there?"
"Yes, sir; there's Doctor Heston, and the Reverend James Wyatt, and Mr
Elton."
"Exactly," he said gruffly; and he opened a large book and turned over a
number of pages. "Humph! here it is," he said to himself, and he seemed
to check off the names. "Now, look here, my man. What is the name of
the principal solicitor at Rowford?"
"Mr Blakeford, sir," I said with a shiver, lest he should want to write
to him about me.
"Oh, you know him?" he said sharply.
"Yes, sir. He managed papa's--my father's--affairs," I said, correcting
myself.
"Then I'm sorry for your poor father's affairs," he said, tightening his
lips. "That will do, my lad. You can come to work here. Be honest and
industrious, and you'll get on. Never mind about having been a
gentleman, but learn to be a true man. Go and wait outside."
I tried to speak. I wanted to catch his hands in mine. I wanted to
fling my arms round Miss Carr, and kiss and bless her for her goodness.
I was so weak and sentimental a boy then. But I had to fight it all
down, and satisfy myself by casting a grateful glance at her as I went
out to wait.
I was no listener, but I heard every word that passed as the ladies rose
to go.
"Are you satisfied, my dear?" said Mr Ruddle.
"God bless you?" she said; and I saw her raise her veil and kiss him.
"God bless you, my dear!" he said soft
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