only suppose himself the subject of a jest. He was no longer under
the spell of the young lady's presence; and with men, and above all
with his inferiors, he was capable of some display of spirit.
'Sir,' said he, pretty roundly, 'I have put myself to great
inconvenience for persons of whom I know too little, and I begin to
be weary of the business. Either you shall immediately summon Miss
Fonblanque, or I leave this house and put myself under the
direction of the police.'
'This is horrible!' exclaimed the man. 'I declare before Heaven I
am the person meant, but how shall I convince you? It must have
been Clara, I perceive, that sent you on this errand - a madwoman,
who jests with the most deadly interests; and here we are
incapable, perhaps, of an agreement, and Heaven knows what may
depend on our delay!'
He spoke with a really startling earnestness; and at the same time
there flashed upon the mind of Challoner the ridiculous jingle
which was to serve as password. 'This may, perhaps, assist you,'
he said, and then, with some embarrassment, '"Nigger, nigger, never
die."'
A light of relief broke upon the troubled countenance of the man
with the chin-beard. '"Black face and shining eye" - give me the
letter,' he panted, in one gasp.
'Well,' said Challoner, though still with some reluctance, 'I
suppose I must regard you as the proper recipient; and though I may
justly complain of the spirit in which I have been treated, I am
only too glad to be done with all responsibility. Here it is,' and
he produced the envelope.
The man leaped upon it like a beast, and with hands that trembled
in a manner painful to behold, tore it open and unfolded the
letter. As he read, terror seemed to mount upon him to the pitch
of nightmare. He struck one hand upon his brow, while with the
other, as if unconsciously, he crumpled the paper to a ball. 'My
gracious powers!' he cried; and then, dashing to the window, which
stood open on the garden, he clapped forth his head and shoulders,
and whistled long and shrill. Challoner fell back into a corner,
and resolutely grasping his staff, prepared for the most desperate
events; but the thoughts of the man with the chin-beard were far
removed from violence. Turning again into the room, and once more
beholding his visitor, whom he appeared to have forgotten, he
fairly danced with trepidation. 'Impossible!' he cried. 'Oh,
quite impossible! O Lord, I have lost my head.' And then, once
more striking his hand upon his brow, 'The money!' he exclaimed.
'Give me the money.'
'My good friend,' replied Challoner, 'this is a very painful
exhibition; and until I see you reasonably master of yourself, I
decline to proceed with any business.'
'You are quite right,' said the man. 'I am of a very nervous
habit; a long course of the dumb ague has undermined my
constitution. But I know you have money; it may be still the
saving of me; and oh, dear young gentleman, in pity's name be
expeditious!' Challoner, sincerely uneasy as he was, could scarce
refrain from laughter; but he was himself in a hurry to be gone,
and without more delay produced the money. 'You will find the sum,
I trust, correct,' he observed 'and let me ask you to give me a
receipt.'
But the man heeded him not. He seized the money, and disregarding
the sovereigns that rolled loose upon the floor, thrust the bundle
of notes into his pocket.
'A receipt,' repeated Challoner, with some asperity. 'I insist on
a receipt.'
'Receipt?' repeated the man, a little wildly. 'A receipt?
Immediately! Await me here.'
Challoner, in reply, begged the gentleman to lose no unnecessary
time, as he was himself desirous of catching a particular train.
'Ah, by God, and so am I!' exclaimed the man with the chin-beard;
and with that he was gone out of the room, and had rattled
upstairs, four at a time, to the upper story of the villa.
'This is certainly a most amazing business,' thought Challoner;
'certainly a most disquieting affair; and I cannot conceal from
myself that I have become mixed up with either lunatics or
malefactors. I may truly thank my stars that I am so nearly and so
creditably done with it.' Thus thinking, and perhaps remembering
the episode of the whistle, he turned to the open window. The
garden was still faintly clear; he could distinguish the stairs and
terraces with which the small domain had been adorned by former
owners, and the blackened bushes and dead trees that had once
afforded shelter to the country birds; beyond these he saw the
strong retaining wall, some thirty feet in height, which enclosed
the garden to the back; and again above that, the pile of dingy
buildings rearing its frontage high into the night. A peculiar
object lying stretched upon the lawn for some time baffled his
eyesight; but at length he had made it out to be a long ladder, or
series of ladders bound into one; and he was still wondering of
what service so great an instrument could be in such a scant
enclosure, when he was recalled to himself by the noise of some one
running violently down the stairs. This was followed by the
sudden, clamorous banging of the house door; and that again, by
rapid and retreating footsteps in the street.
Challoner sprang into the passage. He ran from room to room,
upstairs and downstairs; and in that old dingy and worm-eaten
house, he found himself alone. Only in one apartment, looking to
the front, were there any traces of the late inhabitant: a bed
that had been recently slept in and not made, a chest of drawers
disordered by a hasty search, and on the floor a roll of crumpled
paper. This he picked up. The light in this upper story looking
to the front was considerably brighter than in the parlour; and he
was able to make out that the paper bore the mark of the hotel at
Euston, and even, by peering closely, to decipher the following
lines in a very elegant and careful female hand:
'DEAR M'GUIRE, - It is certain your retreat is known. We have just
had another failure, clockwork thirty hours too soon, with the
usual humiliating result. Zero is quite disheartened. We are all
scattered, and I could find no one but the SOLEMN ASS who brings
you this and the money. I would love to see your meeting. - Ever
yours,
SHINING EYE.'
Challoner was stricken to the heart. He perceived by what
facility, by what unmanly fear of ridicule, he had been brought
down to be the gull of this intriguer; and his wrath flowed forth
in almost equal measure against himself, against the woman, and
against Somerset, whose idle counsels had impelled him to embark on
that adventure. At the same time a great and troubled curiosity,
and a certain chill of fear, possessed his spirit. The conduct of
the man with the chin-beard, the terms of the letter, and the
explosion of the early morning, fitted together like parts in some
obscure and mischievous imbroglio. Evil was certainly afoot; evil,
secrecy, terror, and falsehood were the conditions and the passions
of the people among whom he had begun to move, like a blind puppet;
and he who began as a puppet, his experience told him, was often
doomed to perish as a victim.
From the stupor of deep thought into which he had glided with the
letter in his hand, he was awakened by the clatter of the bell. He
glanced from the window; and, conceive his horror and surprise when
he beheld, clustered on the steps, in the front garden and on the
pavement of the street, a formidable posse of police! He started
to the full possession of his powers and courage. Escape, and
escape at any cost, was the one idea that possessed him. Swiftly
and silently he redescended the creaking stairs; he was already in
the passage when a second and more imperious summons from the door
awoke the echoes of the empty house; nor had the bell ceased to
jangle before he had bestridden the window-sill of the parlour and
was lowering himself into the garden. His coat was hooked upon the
iron flower-basket; for a moment he hung dependent heels and head
below; and then, with the noise of rending cloth, and followed by
several pots, he dropped upon the sod. Once more the bell was
rung, and now with furious and repeated peals. The desperate
Challoner turned his eyes on every side. They fell upon the
ladder, and he ran to it, and with strenuous but unavailing effort
sought to raise it from the ground. Suddenly the weight, which was
thus resisting his whole strength, began to lighten in his hands;
the ladder, like a thing of life, reared its bulk from off the sod;
and Challoner, leaping back with a cry of almost superstitious
terror, beheld the whole structure mount, foot by foot, against the
face of the retaining wall. At the same time, two heads were dimly
visible above the parapet, and he was hailed by a guarded whistle.
Something in its modulation recalled, like an echo, the whistle of
the man with the chin-beard,
Had he chanced upon a means of escape prepared beforehand by those
very miscreants whose messenger and gull he had become? Was this,
indeed, a means of safety, or but the starting-point of further
complication and disaster? He paused not to reflect. Scarce was
the ladder reared to its full length than he had sprung already on
the rounds; hand over hand, swift as an ape, he scaled the
tottering stairway. Strong arms received, embraced, and helped
him; he was lifted and set once more upon the earth; and with the
spasm of his alarm yet unsubsided, found himself in the company of
two rough-looking men, in the paved back yard of one of the tall
houses that crowned the summit of the hill. Meanwhile, from below,
the note of the bell had been succeeded by the sound of vigorous
and redoubling blows.
'Are you all out?' asked one of his companions; and, as soon as he
had babbled an answer in the affirmative, the rope was cut from the
top round, and the ladder thrust roughly back into the garden,
where it fell and broke with clattering reverberations. Its fall
was hailed with many broken cries; for the whole of Richard Street
was now in high emotion, the people crowding to the windows or
clambering on the garden walls. The same man who had already
addressed Challoner seized him by the arm; whisked him through the
basement of the house and across the street upon the other side;
and before the unfortunate adventurer had time to realise his
situation, a door was opened, and he was thrust into a low and dark
compartment.
'Bedad,' observed his guide, 'there was no time to lose. Is
M'Guire gone, or was it you that whistled?
'M'Guire is gone,' said Challoner.
The guide now struck a light. 'Ah,' said he, 'this will never do.
You dare not go upon the streets in such a figure. Wait quietly
here and I will bring you something decent.'
With that the man was gone, and Challoner, his attention thus
rudely awakened, began ruefully to consider the havoc that had been
worked in his attire. His hat was gone; his trousers were cruelly
ripped; and the best part of one tail of his very elegant frockcoat
had been left hanging from the iron crockets of the window. He had
scarce had time to measure these disasters when his host re-entered
the apartment and proceeded, without a word, to envelop the refined
and urbane Challoner in a long ulster of the cheapest material, and
of a pattern so gross and vulgar that his spirit sickened at the
sight. This calumnious disguise was crowned and completed by a
soft felt hat of the Tyrolese design, and several sizes too small.
At another moment Challoner would simply have refused to issue
forth upon the world thus travestied; but the desire to escape from
Glasgow was now too strongly and too exclusively impressed upon his
mind. With one haggard glance at the spotted tails of his new
coat, he inquired what was to pay for this accoutrement. The man
assured him that the whole expense was easily met from funds in his
possession, and begged him, instead of wasting time, to make his
best speed out of the neighbourhood.
The young man was not loath to take the hint. True to his usual
courtesy, he thanked the speaker and complimented him upon his
taste in greatcoats; and leaving the man somewhat abashed by these
remarks and the manner of their delivery, he hurried forth into the
lamplit city. The last train was gone ere, after many deviations,
he had reached the terminus. Attired as he was he dared not
present himself at any reputable inn; and he felt keenly that the
unassuming dignity of his demeanour would serve to attract
attention, perhaps mirth and possibly suspicion, in any humbler
hostelry. He was thus condemned to pass the solemn and uneventful
hours of a whole night in pacing the streets of Glasgow;
supperless; a figure of fun for all beholders; waiting the dawn,
with hope indeed, but with unconquerable shrinkings; and above all
things, filled with a profound sense of the folly and weakness of
his conduct. It may be conceived with what curses he assailed the
memory of the fair narrator of Hyde Park; her parting laughter rang
in his ears all night with damning mockery and iteration; and when
he could spare a thought from this chief artificer of his
confusion, it was to expend his wrath on Somerset and the career of
the amateur detective. With the coming of day, he found in a shy
milk-shop the means to appease his hunger. There were still many
hours to wait before the departure of the South express; these he
passed wandering with indescribable fatigue in the obscurer by-
streets of the city; and at length slipped quietly into the station
and took his place in the darkest corner of a third-class carriage.
Here, all day long, he jolted on the bare boards, distressed by
heat and continually reawakened from uneasy slumbers. By the half
return ticket in his purse, he was entitled to make the journey on
the easy cushions and with the ample space of the first-class; but
alas! in his absurd attire, he durst not, for decency, commingle
with his equals; and this small annoyance, coming last in such a
series of disasters, cut him to the heart.
That night, when, in his Putney lodging, he reviewed the expense,
anxiety, and weariness of his adventure; when he beheld the ruins
of his last good trousers and his last presentable coat; and above
all, when his eye by any chance alighted on the Tyrolese hat or the
degrading ulster, his heart would overflow with bitterness, and it
was only by a serious call on his philosophy that he maintained the
dignity of his demeanour.
SOMERSET'S ADVENTURE: THE SUPERFLUOUS MANSION
Mr. Paul Somerset was a young gentleman of a lively and fiery
imagination, with very small capacity for action. He was one who
lived exclusively in dreams and in the future: the creature of his
own theories, and an actor in his own romances. From the cigar
divan he proceeded to parade the streets, still heated with the
fire of his eloquence, and scouting upon every side for the offer
of some fortunate adventure. In the continual stream of passers-
by, on the sealed fronts of houses, on the posters that covered the
hoardings, and in every lineament and throb of the great city, he
saw a mysterious and hopeful hieroglyph. But although the elements
of adventure were streaming by him as thick as drops of water in
the Thames, it was in vain that, now with a beseeching, now with
something of a braggadocio air, he courted and provoked the notice
of the passengers; in vain that, putting fortune to the touch, he
even thrust himself into the way and came into direct collision
with those of the more promising demeanour. Persons brimful of
secrets, persons pining for affection, persons perishing for lack
of help or counsel, he was sure he could perceive on every side;
but by some contrariety of fortune, each passed upon his way
without remarking the young gentleman, and went farther (surely to
fare worse!) in quest of the confidant, the friend, or the adviser.
To thousands he must have turned an appealing countenance, and yet
not one regarded him.
A light dinner, eaten to the accompaniment of his impetuous
aspirations, broke in upon the series of his attempts on fortune;
and when he returned to the task, the lamps were already lighted,
and the nocturnal crowd was dense upon the pavement. Before a
certain restaurant, whose name will readily occur to any student of
our Babylon, people were already packed so closely that passage had
grown difficult; and Somerset, standing in the kennel, watched,
with a hope that was beginning to grow somewhat weary, the faces
and the manners of the crowd. Suddenly he was startled by a gentle
touch upon the shoulder, and facing about, he was aware of a very
plain and elegant brougham, drawn by a pair of powerful horses, and
driven by a man in sober livery. There were no arms upon the
panel; the window was open, but the interior was obscure; the
driver yawned behind his palm; and the young man was already
beginning to suppose himself the dupe of his own fancy, when a
hand, no larger than a child's and smoothly gloved in white,
appeared in a corner of the window and privily beckoned him to
approach. He did so, and looked in. The carriage was occupied by
a single small and very dainty figure, swathed head and shoulders
in impenetrable folds of white lace; and a voice, speaking low and
silvery, addressed him in these words -
'Open the door and get in.'
'It must be,' thought the young man with an almost unbearable
thrill, 'it must be that duchess at last!' Yet, although the
moment was one to which he had long looked forward, it was with a
certain share of alarm that he opened the door, and, mounting into
the brougham, took his seat beside the lady of the lace. Whether
or no she had touched a spring, or given some other signal, the
young man had hardly closed the door before the carriage, with
considerable swiftness, and with a very luxurious and easy movement
on its springs, turned and began to drive towards the west.
Somerset, as I have written, was not unprepared; it had long been
his particular pleasure to rehearse his conduct in the most
unlikely situations; and this, among others, of the patrician
ravisher, was one he had familiarly studied. Strange as it may
seem, however, he could find no apposite remark; and as the lady,
on her side, vouchsafed no further sign, they continued to drive in
silence through the streets. Except for alternate flashes from the
passing lamps, the carriage was plunged in obscurity; and beyond
the fact that the fittings were luxurious, and that the lady was
singularly small and slender in person, and, all but one gloved
hand, still swathed in her costly veil, the young man could
decipher no detail of an inspiring nature. The suspense began to
grow unbearable. Twice he cleared his throat, and twice the whole
resources of the language failed him. In similar scenes, when he
had forecast them on the theatre of fancy, his presence of mind had
always been complete, his eloquence remarkable; and at this
disparity between the rehearsal and the performance, he began to be
seized with a panic of apprehension. Here, on the very threshold
of adventure, suppose him ignominiously to fail; suppose that after
ten, twenty, or sixty seconds of still uninterrupted silence, the
lady should touch the check-string and re-deposit him, weighed and
found wanting, on the common street! Thousands of persons of no
mind at all, he reasoned, would be found more equal to the part;
could, that very instant, by some decisive step, prove the lady's
choice to have been well inspired, and put a stop to this
intolerable silence.
His eye, at this point, lighted on the hand. It was better to fall
by desperate councils than to continue as he was; and with one
tremulous swoop he pounced on the gloved fingers and drew them to
himself. One overt step, it had appeared to him, would dissolve
the spell of his embarrassment; in act, he found it otherwise: he
found himself no less incapable of speech or further progress; and
with the lady's hand in his, sat helpless. But worse was in store.
A peculiar quivering began to agitate the form of his companion;
the hand that lay unresistingly in Somerset's trembled as with
ague; and presently there broke forth, in the shadow of the
carriage, the bubbling and musical sound of laughter, resisted but
triumphant. The young man dropped his prize; had it been possible,
he would have bounded from the carriage. The lady, meanwhile,
lying back upon the cushions, passed on from trill to trill of the
most heartfelt, high-pitched, clear and fairy-sounding merriment.
'You must not be offended,' she said at last, catching an
opportunity between two paroxysms. 'If you have been mistaken in
the warmth of your attentions, the fault is solely mine; it does
not flow from your presumption, but from my eccentric manner of
recruiting friends; and, believe me, I am the last person in the
world to think the worse of a young man for showing spirit. As for
to-night, it is my intention to entertain you to a little supper;
and if I shall continue to be as much pleased with your manners as
I was taken with your face, I may perhaps end by making you an
advantageous offer.'
Somerset sought in vain to find some form of answer, but his
discomfiture had been too recent and complete.
'Come,' returned the lady, 'we must have no display of temper; that
is for me the one disqualifying fault; and as I perceive we are
drawing near our destination, I shall ask you to descend and offer
me your arm.'
Indeed, at that very moment the carriage drew up before a stately
and severe mansion in a spacious square; and Somerset, who was
possessed of an excellent temper, with the best grace in the world
assisted the lady to alight. The door was opened by an old woman
of a grim appearance, who ushered the pair into a dining-room
somewhat dimly lighted, but already laid for supper, and occupied
by a prodigious company of large and valuable cats. Here, as soon
as they were alone, the lady divested herself of the lace in which
she was enfolded; and Somerset was relieved to find, that although
still bearing the traces of great beauty, and still distinguished
by the fire and colour of her eye, her hair was of a silvery
whiteness and her face lined with years.
'And now, mon preux,' said the old lady, nodding at him with a
quaint gaiety, 'you perceive that I am no longer in my first youth.
You will soon find that I am all the better company for that.'
As she spoke, the maid re-entered the apartment with a light but
tasteful supper. They sat down, accordingly, to table, the cats
with savage pantomime surrounding the old lady's chair; and what
with the excellence of the meal and the gaiety of his entertainer,
Somerset was soon completely at his ease. When they had well eaten
and drunk, the old lady leaned back in her chair, and taking a cat
upon her lap, subjected her guest to a prolonged but evidently
mirthful scrutiny.
'I fear, madam,' said Somerset, 'that my manners have not risen to
the height of your preconceived opinion.'
'My dear young man,' she replied, 'you were never more mistaken in
your life. I find you charming, and you may very well have lighted
on a fairy godmother. I am not one of those who are given to
change their opinions, and short of substantial demerit, those who
have once gained my favour continue to enjoy it; but I have a
singular swiftness of decision, read my fellow men and women with a
glance, and have acted throughout life on first impressions.
Yours, as I tell you, has been favourable; and if, as I suppose,
you are a young fellow of somewhat idle habits, I think it not
improbable that we may strike a bargain.'
'Ah, madam,' returned Somerset, 'you have divined my situation. I
am a man of birth, parts, and breeding; excellent company, or at
least so I find myself; but by a peculiar iniquity of fate,
destitute alike of trade or money. I was, indeed, this evening
upon the quest of an adventure, resolved to close with any offer of
interest, emolument, or pleasure; and your summons, which I profess
I am still at some loss to understand, jumped naturally with the
inclination of my mind. Call it, if you will, impudence; I am
here, at least, prepared for any proposition you can find it in
your heart to make, and resolutely determined to accept.'
'You express yourself very well,' replied the old lady, 'and are
certainly a droll and curious young man. I should not care to
affirm that you were sane, for I have never found any one entirely
so besides myself; but at least the nature of your madness
entertains me, and I will reward you with some description of my
character and life.'
Thereupon the old lady, still fondling the cat upon her lap,
proceeded to narrate the following particulars.
NARRATIVE OF THE SPIRITED OLD LADY
I was the eldest daughter of the Reverend Bernard Fanshawe, who
held a valuable living in the diocese of Bath and Wells. Our
family, a very large one, was noted for a sprightly and incisive
wit, and came of a good old stock where beauty was an heirloom. In
Christian grace of character we were unhappily deficient. From my
earliest years I saw and deplored the defects of those relatives
whose age and position should have enabled them to conquer my
esteem; and while I was yet a child, my father married a second
wife, in whom (strange to say) the Fanshawe failings were
exaggerated to a monstrous and almost laughable degree. Whatever
may be said against me, it cannot be denied I was a pattern
daughter; but it was in vain that, with the most touching patience,
I submitted to my stepmother's demands; and from the hour she
entered my father's house, I may say that I met with nothing but
injustice and ingratitude.
I stood not alone, however, in the sweetness of my disposition; for
one other of the family besides myself was free from any violence
of character. Before I had reached the age of sixteen, this
cousin, John by name, had conceived for me a sincere but silent
passion; and although the poor lad was too timid to hint at the
nature of his feelings, I had soon divined and begun to share them.
For some days I pondered on the odd situation created for me by the
bashfulness of my admirer; and at length, perceiving that he began,
in his distress, rather to avoid than seek my company, I determined
to take the matter into my own hands. Finding him alone in a
retired part of the rectory garden, I told him that I had divined
his amiable secret, that I knew with what disfavour our union was
sure to be regarded; and that, under the circumstances, I was
prepared to flee with him at once. Poor John was literally
paralysed with joy; such was the force of his emotions, that he
could find no words in which to thank me; and that I, seeing him
thus helpless, was obliged to arrange, myself, the details of our
flight, and of the stolen marriage which was immediately to crown
it. John had been at that time projecting a visit to the
metropolis. In this I bade him persevere, and promised on the
following day to join him at the Tavistock Hotel.
True, on my side, to every detail of our arrangement, I arose, on
the day in question, before the servants, packed a few necessaries
in a bag, took with me the little money I possessed, and bade
farewell for ever to the rectory. I walked with good spirits to a
town some thirty miles from home, and was set down the next morning
in this great city of London. As I walked from the coach-office to
the hotel, I could not help exulting in the pleasant change that
had befallen me; beholding, meanwhile, with innocent delight, the
traffic of the streets, and depicting, in all the colours of fancy,
the reception that awaited me from John. But alas! when I inquired
for Mr. Fanshawe, the porter assured me there was no such gentleman
among the guests. By what channel our secret had leaked out, or
what pressure had been brought to bear on the too facile John, I
could never fathom. Enough that my family had triumphed; that I
found myself alone in London, tender in years, smarting under the
most sensible mortification, and by every sentiment of pride and
self-respect debarred for ever from my father's house.
I rose under the blow, and found lodgings in the neighbourhood of
Euston Road, where, for the first time in my life, I tasted the
joys of independence. Three days afterwards, an advertisement in
the Times directed me to the office of a solicitor whom I knew to
be in my father's confidence. There I was given the promise of a
very moderate allowance, and a distinct intimation that I must
never look to be received at home. I could not but resent so cruel
a desertion, and I told the lawyer it was a meeting I desired as
little as themselves. He smiled at my courageous spirit, paid me
the first quarter of my income, and gave me the remainder of my
personal effects, which had been sent to me, under his care, in a
couple of rather ponderous boxes. With these I returned in triumph
to my lodgings, more content with my position than I should have
thought possible a week before, and fully determined to make the
best of the future.
All went well for several months; and, indeed, it was my own fault
alone that ended this pleasant and secluded episode of life. I
have, I must confess, the fatal trick of spoiling my inferiors. My
landlady, to whom I had as usual been overkind, impertinently
called me in fault for some particular too small to mention; and I,
annoyed that I had allowed her the freedom upon which she thus
presumed, ordered her to leave my presence. She stood a moment
dumb, and then, recalling her self-possession, 'Your bill,' said
she, 'shall be ready this evening, and to-morrow, madam, you shall
leave my house. See,' she added, 'that you are able to pay what
you owe me; for if I do not receive the uttermost farthing, no box
of yours shall pass my threshold.'
I was confounded at her audacity, but as a whole quarter's income
was due to me, not otherwise affected by the threat. That
afternoon, as I left the solicitor's door, carrying in one hand,
and done up in a paper parcel, the whole amount of my fortune,
there befell me one of those decisive incidents that sometimes
shape a life. The lawyer's office was situate in a street that
opened at the upper end upon the Strand, and was closed at the
lower, at the time of which I speak, by a row of iron railings
looking on the Thames. Down this street, then, I beheld my
stepmother advancing to meet me, and doubtless bound to the very
house I had just left. She was attended by a maid whose face was
new to me, but her own was too clearly printed on my memory; and
the sight of it, even from a distance, filled me with generous
indignation. Flight was impossible. There was nothing left but to
retreat against the railing, and with my back turned to the street,
pretend to be admiring the barges on the river or the chimneys of
transpontine London.
I was still so standing, and had not yet fully mastered the
turbulence of my emotions, when a voice at my elbow addressed me
with a trivial question. It was the maid whom my stepmother, with
characteristic hardness, had left to await her on the street, while
she transacted her business with the family solicitor. The girl
did not know who I was; the opportunity too golden to be lost; and
I was soon hearing the latest news of my father's rectory and
parish. It did not surprise me to find that she detested her
employers; and yet the terms in which she spoke of them were hard
to bear, hard to let pass unchallenged. I heard them, however,
without dissent, for my self-command is wonderful; and we might
have parted as we met, had she not proceeded, in an evil hour, to
criticise the rector's missing daughter, and with the most shocking
perversions, to narrate the story of her flight. My nature is so
essentially generous that I can never pause to reason. I flung up
my hand sharply, by way, as well as I remember, of indignant
protest; and, in the act, the packet slipped from my fingers,
glanced between the railings, and fell and sunk in the river. I
stood a moment petrified, and then, struck by the drollery of the
incident, gave way to peals of laughter. I was still laughing when
my stepmother reappeared, and the maid, who doubtless considered me
insane, ran off to join her; nor had I yet recovered my gravity
when I presented myself before the lawyer to solicit a fresh
advance. His answer made me serious enough, for it was a flat
refusal; and it was not until I had besought him even with tears,
that he consented to lend me ten pounds from his own pocket. 'I am
a poor man,' said he, 'and you must look for nothing farther at my
hands.'
The landlady met me at the door. 'Here, madam,' said she, with a
curtsey insolently low, 'here is my bill. Would it inconvenience
you to settle it at once?'
'You shall be paid, madam,' said I, 'in the morning, in the proper
course.' And I took the paper with a very high air, but inwardly
quaking.
I had no sooner looked at it than I perceived myself to be lost. I
had been short of money and had allowed my debt to mount; and it
had now reached the sum, which I shall never forget, of twelve
pounds thirteen and fourpence halfpenny. All evening I sat by the
fire considering my situation. I could not pay the bill; my
landlady would not suffer me to remove my boxes; and without either
baggage or money, how was I to find another lodging? For three
months, unless I could invent some remedy, I was condemned to be
without a roof and without a penny. It can surprise no one that I
decided on immediate flight; but even here I was confronted by a
difficulty, for I had no sooner packed my boxes than I found I was
not strong enough to move, far less to carry them.
In this strait I did not hesitate a moment, but throwing on a shawl
and bonnet, and covering my face with a thick veil, I betook myself
to that great bazaar of dangerous and smiling chances, the pavement
of the city. It was already late at night, and the weather being
wet and windy, there were few abroad besides policemen. These, on
my present mission, I had wit enough to know for enemies; and
wherever I perceived their moving lanterns, I made haste to turn
aside and choose another thoroughfare. A few miserable women still
walked the pavement; here and there were young fellows returning
drunk, or ruffians of the lowest class lurking in the mouths of
alleys; but of any one to whom I might appeal in my distress, I
began almost to despair.
At last, at the corner of a street, I ran into the arms of one who
was evidently a gentleman, and who, in all his appointments, from
his furred great-coat to the fine cigar which he was smoking,
comfortably breathed of wealth. Much as my face has changed from
its original beauty, I still retain (or so I tell myself) some
traces of the youthful lightness of my figure. Even veiled as I
then was, I could perceive the gentleman was struck by my
appearance: and this emboldened me for my adventure.
'Sir,' said I, with a quickly beating heart, 'sir, are you one in
whom a lady can confide?'
'Why, my dear,' said he, removing his cigar, 'that depends on
circumstances. If you will raise your veil - '
'Sir,' I interrupted, 'let there be no mistake. I ask you, as a
gentleman, to serve me, but I offer no reward.'
'That is frank,' said he; 'but hardly tempting. And what, may I
inquire, is the nature of the service?'
But I knew well enough it was not my interest to tell him on so
short an interview. 'If you will accompany me,' said I, 'to a
house not far from here, you can see for yourself.'
He looked at me awhile with hesitating eyes; and then, tossing away
his cigar, which was not yet a quarter smoked, 'Here goes!' said
he, and with perfect politeness offered me his arm. I was wise
enough to take it; to prolong our walk as far as possible, by more
than one excursion from the shortest line; and to beguile the way
with that sort of conversation which should prove to him
indubitably from what station in society I sprang. By the time we
reached the door of my lodging, I felt sure I had confirmed his
interest, and might venture, before I turned the pass-key, to
beseech him to moderate his voice and to tread softly. He promised
to obey me: and I admitted him into the passage and thence into my
sitting-room, which was fortunately next the door.
'And now,' said he, when with trembling fingers I had lighted a
candle, 'what is the meaning of all this?'
'I wish you,' said I, speaking with great difficulty, 'to help me
out with these boxes - and I wish nobody to know.'
He took up the candle. 'And I wish to see your face,' said he.
I turned back my veil without a word, and looked at him with every
appearance of resolve that I could summon up. For some time he
gazed into my face, still holding up the candle. 'Well,' said he
at last, 'and where do you wish them taken?'
I knew that I had gained my point; and it was with a tremor in my
voice that I replied. 'I had thought we might carry them between
us to the corner of Euston Road,' said I, 'where, even at this late
hour, we may still find a cab.'
'Very good,' was his reply; and he immediately hoisted the heavier
of my trunks upon his shoulder, and taking one handle of the
second, signed to me to help him at the other end. In this order
we made good our retreat from the house, and without the least
adventure, drew pretty near to the corner of Euston Road. Before a
house, where there was a light still burning, my companion paused.
'Let us here,' said he, 'set down our boxes, while we go forward to
the end of the street in quest of a cab. By doing so, we can still
keep an eye upon their safety, and we avoid the very extraordinary
figure we should otherwise present - a young man, a young lady, and
a mass of baggage, standing castaway at midnight on the streets of
London.' So it was done, and the event proved him to be wise; for
long before there was any word of a cab, a policeman appeared upon
the scene, turned upon us the full glare of his lantern, and hung
suspiciously behind us in a doorway.
'There seem to be no cabs about, policeman,' said my champion, with
affected cheerfulness. But the constable's answer was ungracious;
and as for the offer of a cigar, with which this rebuff was most
unwisely followed up, he refused it point-blank, and without the
least civility. The young gentleman looked at me with a warning
grimace, and there we continued to stand, on the edge of the
pavement, in the beating rain, and with the policeman still
silently watching our movements from the doorway.
At last, and after a delay that seemed interminable, a four-wheeler
appeared lumbering along in the mud, and was instantly hailed by my
companion. 'Just pull up here, will you?' he cried. 'We have some
baggage up the street.'
And now came the hitch of our adventure; for when the policeman,
still closely following us, beheld my two boxes lying in the rain,
he arose from mere suspicion to a kind of certitude of something
evil. The light in the house had been extinguished; the whole
frontage of the street was dark; there was nothing to explain the
presence of these unguarded trunks; and no two innocent people were
ever, I believe, detected in such questionable circumstances.