 CHAPTER XII. There was a brief pause in the state room of the maypole, as Mr. Herodale tried the lock to satisfy himself that he had shut the door securely, and striding up the dark chamber to where the screen enclosed a little patch of light and warmth, presented himself abruptly and in silence before the smiling guest. If the two had no greater sympathy in their inward thoughts than in their outward bearing in appearance, the meaning did not seem likely to prove a very calm or pleasant one. With no great disparity between them in point of years, they were in every other respect as unlike and far removed from each other as two men could well be. The one was soft spoken, delicately made, precise and elegant. The other, a burly, square-built man, negligently dressed, rough and abrupt in manner, stern and in his present mood forbidding both in look and speech. The one preserved a calm and placid smile, the other a distrustful frown. The newcomer, indeed, appeared bent on showing by his every tone and gesture his determined opposition and hostility to the man he had come to meet. The guest who received him, on the other hand, seemed to feel that the contrast between them was all in his favour, and to derive a quiet exultation from it which put him more at his ease than ever. Hairdale, said this gentleman, without the least appearance of embarrassment or reserve, I am very glad to see you. Let us dispense with compliments their misplaced between us, returns the other, waving his hand, and say plainly what we have to say. You have asked me to meet you, I am here. Why do we stand face to face again? Still the same frank and sturdy character I see. Good or bad, sir, I am, returns the other, leaning his arm upon the chimney piece and turning a haughty look upon the occupant of the easy chair. The man I used to be, I have lost no old likings or dislikings. My memory has not failed me by a hair's breadth. You ask me to give you a meeting. I say I am here. Our meeting, Hairdale, said Mr. Chester, tapping his snuff box and following with a smile the impatient gesture he had made, perhaps unconsciously, towards his sword, is one of conference and peace, I hope. I have come here, returns the other, at your desire, holding myself bound to meet you when and where you would. I have not come to bandy pleasant speeches or hollow professions. You are a smooth man of the world, sir, and at such play have me at a disadvantage. The very last man on this earth, with whom I would enter the list to combat with gentle compliments and masked faces as Mr. Chester, I do assure you. I am not his match at such weapons, and have reason to believe that few men are. You do me a great deal of honor, Hairdale, returns the other most composedly, and I thank you. I will be frank with you. A beggar pardon will be what? Frank, open, perfectly candid, have cried Mr. Hairdale, drawing his breath, but don't let me interrupt you. So resolved am I to hold this course, returns the other, tasting his wine with great deliberation, that I have determined not to quarrel with you and not to be betrayed into a warm expression or a hasty word. There again, said Mr. Hairdale, you have made a great advantage. Your self-command is not to be disturbed when it will serve my purpose, you would say, rejoins the other, interrupting him with the same complacency. Granted, I allow it. And I have a purpose to serve now, so have you. I am sure our object is the same. Let us attain it like sensible men who have ceased to be boys some time. Do you drink? With my friends, returns the other. At least, said Mr. Chester, you will be seated. I will stand, returned Mr. Hairdale impatiently, on this dismantled, beggared hearth and not polluted, fallen as it is with mockeries. Go on. You are wrong, Hairdale, said the other, crossing his legs and smiling as he held his glass up in the bright glow of the fire. You are really very wrong. The world is a lively place enough in which we must accommodate ourselves to circumstances, sail with the stream as glibly as we can, be content to take froth for substance, the surface for the depth, the counterfeit for the real coin. I wonder no philosopher has ever established that our globe itself is hollow. It should be if nature is consistent in her works. You think it is, perhaps? I should say, he returned, sipping his wine, there could be no doubt about it. Well, we, in trifling with this jingling toy, have had the ill luck to jostle and fall out. We are not what the world calls friends, but we are as good and true and loving friends for all that as nine out of every ten of those on whom it bestows the title. You have a niece and I a son, a fine lad, Hairdale, but foolish. They fall in love with each other and form what the same world calls an attachment, meaning a something fanciful and false like the rest, which, if it took its own free time, would break like any other bubble. But it may not have its own free time. Will not, if they are left alone. And the question is, shall we too, because society calls us enemies, stand aloof and let them rush into each other's arms when, by approaching each other sensibly as we do now, we can prevent it and part them. I love my niece, said Mr. Hairdale, after a short silence. It may sound strangely in your ears, but I love her. Strangely, my good fellow, cried Mr. Chester, lazily filling his glass again and pulling out his toothpick. Not at all. I like Ned too, or as you say, love him. That's the word among such near relations. I'm very fond of Ned. He's an amazingly good fellow and a handsome fellow, foolish and weak as yet, that's all. But the thing is, Hairdale, for I'll be very frank, as I told you I would at first, independently of any dislike that you and I might have to being related to each other, and independently of the religious differences between us, and damn it, that's important. I couldn't afford a match of this description. Ned and I couldn't do it, it's impossible. Curb your tongue in God's name, if this conversation is to last. Reported Mr. Hairdale fiercely. I have said I love my niece. Do you think that loving her I would have her fling her heart away on any man who had your blood in his veins? You see, said the other, not at all disturbed, the advantage of being so frank and open, just what I was about to add upon my honor. I am amazingly attached to Ned, quite doed upon him, indeed, and even if we could afford to throw ourselves away, that very objection would be quite insuperable. I wish you'd take some wine. Mark me, said Mr. Hairdale, striding to the table and laying his hand upon it heavily. If any man believes, presumes to think, that I, in word or deed, or in the wildest dream, ever entertained remotely the idea of Emma Hairdale's favoring the suit of anyone who was akin to you, in any way, I care not what, he lies. He lies and does me grievous wrong in the mere thought. Well, returns the other, rocking himself to and fro, as innocent and nodding at the fire. It's extremely manly and really very generous in you to meet me in this unreserved and handsome way. Upon my word those are exactly my sentiments, only expressed with much more force and power than I could use. You know my sluggish nature and will forgive me, I am sure. While I would restrain her from all correspondence with your son and sever their intercourse here, though it should cause her death, said Mr. Hairdale, who had been pacing to and fro, I would do it kindly and tenderly if I can. I have a trust to discharge which my nature is not formed to understand, and for this reason the bare fact of there being any love between them comes upon me tonight, almost for the first time. I am more delighted than I can possibly tell you, rejoined Mr. Chester, with the utmost blandness, to find my own impression so confirmed. You see the advantage of our having met. We understand each other. We quite agree. We have a most complete and thorough explanation, and we know what course to take. Why don't you taste your tenant's wine? It's really very good. Pray who, said Mr. Hairdale, have aided Emma or your son. Who are their go-betweens and agents? Do you know? All the good people hear abouts. The neighborhood in general, I think, returns the other, with his most affable smile. The messenger I sent to you today, foremost among them all. The idiot Barnaby? You are surprised? I am glad of that, for I was rather so myself. Yes, I rung that from his mother, a very decent sort of woman, from whom indeed I chiefly learned how serious the matter had become, and so determined to ride out here to-day and hold a parlay with you on this neutral ground. You're stouter than you used to be, Hairdale, but you look extremely well. Our business, I presume, is nearly at an end, said Mr. Hairdale, with an expression of impatience he was at no pains to conceal. Trust me, Mr. Chester, my knees shall change from this time. I will appeal, he added in a lower tone, to her woman's heart, her dignity, her pride, her duty. I shall do the same by Ned, said Mr. Chester, restoring some errant faggots to their places in the great with the toe of his boot. If there is anything real in this world, it is those amazingly fine feelings and those natural obligations which must subsist between father and son. I shall put it to him on every ground of moral and religious feeling. I shall represent to him that we cannot possibly afford it, that I have always looked forward to his marrying well, for a gentile provision for myself in the autumn of life. That there are a great many clamorous dogs to pay, whose claims are perfectly just and right, and who must be paid out of his wife's fortune, in short, that the very highest and most honorable feelings of our nature, with every consideration of filial duty and defection and all that sort of thing, imperatively demand that he should run away with an heiress, and break her heart as speedily as possible, said Mr. Hairdale, drawing on his glove. There Ned will act exactly as he pleases, returns the other, sipping his wine. That's entirely his affair. I wouldn't for the world interfere with my son, Hairdale, beyond a certain point. The relationship between father and son, you know, is positively quite a holy kind of bond. Won't you let me persuade you to take one glass of wine? Well, as you please, as you please, he added, helping himself again. Chester, said Mr. Hairdale, after a short silence, during which he had eyed his smiling face from time to time, intently, you have the head and heart of an evil spirit in all matters of deception. Your health, said the other, with a nod, but I have interrupted you. If now, pursued Mr. Hairdale, we should find it difficult to separate these young people and break off their intercourse. If, for instance, you find it difficult on your side, what course do you intend to take? Nothing plainer, my good fellow, nothing easier, returns the other, shrugging his shoulders and stretching himself more comfortably before the fire. I shall then exert those powers on which you flatter me so highly, though, upon my word, I don't deserve your compliments to their full extent, and resort to a few little trivial sub-diffusions for rousing jealousy and resentment, you see? In short, justifying the means by the end, we are, as the last resort, for tearing them asunder, to resort to treachery and lying, said Mr. Hairdale. Oh, dear no, Fifie returns the other, relishing a pinch of snuff extremely, not lying, only a little management, a little diplomacy, a little intriguing, that's the word. I wish, said Mr. Hairdale, moving to and fro and stopping and moving on again, like one who was ill at ease, that this could have been foreseen or prevented, but as it has gone so far, and it is necessary for us to act, it is of no use shrinking or regretting. Well, I shall second your endeavours to the utmost of my power. There is one topic in the whole wide range of human thoughts on which we both agree. We shall act in concert, but apart. There will be no need, I hope, for us to meet again. Are you going, said Mr. Chester, rising with a graceful indolence? Let me light you down the stairs. Pray keep your seat, returns the other, dryly. I know the way. So waving his hand slightly and putting on his hat as he turned upon his heel, he went clanking out as he had come, shut the door behind him, and tramped down the echoing stairs. Pa! A very coarse animal indeed, said Mr. Chester, composing himself in the easy chair again, a rough brute, quite a human badger. John Willet and his friends, who had been listening intently for the clash of swords or firing of pistols in the great room, and had indeed settled the order in which they should rush in when summoned, in which procession old John had carefully arranged that he should bring up the rear, were very much astonished to see Mr. Haerdale come down without a scratch, call for his horse, and ride away thoughtfully at a foot pace. After some consideration it was decided that he had left the gentleman above for dead, and had adopted this stratagem to divert suspicion or pursuit. As this conclusion involved the necessity of their going upstairs forthwith, they were about to ascend in the order they had agreed upon, when a smart ringing at the guest's bell, as if he had pulled it vigorously, overthrew all their speculations, and involved them in great uncertainty and doubt. At length Mr. Willet agreed to go upstairs himself, escorted by Hugh and Barnaby as the strongest and stoutest fellows on the premises, who were to make their appearance under pretense of clearing away the glasses. Under this protection the brave and broad-faced John boldly entered the room, half a foot in advance, and received an order for a bootjack without trembling. But when it was brought, and he leaned his sturdy shoulder to the guest, Mr. Willet was observed to look very hard into his boots as he pulled them off, and, by opening his eyes much wider than usual, to appear to express some surprise and disappointment at not finding them full of blood. He took occasion, too, to examine the gentleman as closely as he could, expecting to discover sundry loopholes in his person pierced by his adversary's sword. Finding then, however, and observing in course of time that his guest was as cool and unruffled, both in his dress and temper, as he had been all day, old John at last heaved a deep sigh and began to think no duel had been fought that night. And now, Willet, said Mr. Chester, if the room's well aired I'll try the merits of that famous bed. The room, sir, returned John, taking up a candle, and nudging Barnaby and Hugh to accompany them in case the gentleman should unexpectedly drop down faint or dead from some internal wound. The room's as warm as any toast and a tankard. Barnaby, take you that other candle and go on before. Hugh, follow up, sir, with the easy chair. In this order, and still, in his earnest inspection, holding his candle very close to the guest, now making him feel extremely warm about the legs, now threatening to set his wig on fire, and constantly begging his pardon with great awkwardness and embarrassment, John led the party to the best bedroom, which was nearly as large as the chamber from which they had come, and held, drawn out near the fire for warmth, a great old spectral bedstead, hung with faded brocade and ornamented at the top of each carved post with a plume of feathers that had once been white, but with dust and age had now grown hearse-like and funereal. Good night, my friends, said Mr. Chester with a sweet smile, seating himself when he had surveyed the room from end to end in the easy chair which his attendants wheeled before the fire. Good night. Barnaby, my good fellow, you say some prayers before you go to bed, I hope? Barnaby nodded. He had some nonsense that he calls his prayers, sir, returned old John, officiously. I'm afraid there ain't much good in him. Then Hugh, said Mr. Chester, turning to him. Not I, he answered. I know his, pointing to Barnaby, there well enough. He sings them sometimes in the straw. I listen. He's quite an animal, sir, John whispered in his ear with dignity. You'll excuse him, I'm sure. If he has any soul at all, sir, it must be such a very small one that it don't signify what he does or doesn't in that way. Good night, sir. The guest rejoined, God bless you, was a fervor that was quite affecting, and John, beckoning his guards to go before, bowed himself out of the room and left him to his rest in the Maypole's ancient bed. CHAPTER XIII of Barnaby Rudge This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Barnaby Rudge by Charles Dickens CHAPTER XIII If Joseph Willett, the denounced and prescribed of Prentices, had happened to be at home when his father's courtly guest presented himself before the Maypole door. That is, if it had not perversely chanced to be one of the half-dozen days in the whole year on which he was at liberty to absent himself for as many hours without question or reproach, he would have contrived, by hook or crook, to dive to the very bottom of Mr. Chester's mystery and to come at his purpose with as much certainty as though he had been his confidential advisor. In that fortunate case the Lubbers would have had quick warning of the ills that threatened them and the aid of various timely and wise suggestions to boot. For all Joe's readiness of thought and action and all his sympathies and good wishes were enlisted in favor of the young people and were staunch in devotion to their cause. After this disposition arose out of his old prepossessions in favor of the young lady whose history had surrounded her in his mind almost from his cradle with circumstances of unusual interest, or from his attachment towards the young gentleman into whose confidence he had through his shrewdness and alacrity and the rendering of sundry important services as spy and messenger almost imperceptibly glided. Whether they had their origin in either of these sources or in the habit natural to youth or in the constant badgering and worrying of his venerable parent or in any hidden little of a fair of his own which gave him something of a fellow feeling in the matter, it is needless to inquire especially as Joe was out of the way and had no opportunity on that particular occasion of testifying to his sentiments either on one side or the other. It was in fact the 25th of March which, as most people know to their cost, is and has been time out of mind one of those unpleasant epics termed quarter days. On this 25th of March it was John Willett's pride annually to settle in hard cash his account with a certain vintner and distiller in the city of London. To give in to whose hands a canvas bag containing its exact amount and not a penny more or less was the end and object of a journey for Joe so surely as the year and day came round. This journey was performed upon an old gray mare concerning whom John had an indistinct set of ideas hovering about him to the effect that she could win a plate or cup if she tried. She never had tried and probably never would now being some 14 or 15 years of age, short in wind, long in body and rather the worse for wear in respect of her mane and tail. Notwithstanding these slight defects John perfectly gloried in the animal and when she was brought round to the door by Hugh actually retired into the bar and there in a secret grove of lemons lacked with pride. There is a bit of horse flesh Hugh, said John, when he had recovered enough self-command to appear at the door again. There is a comely creature, there is high metal, there is bone. There was bone enough beyond all doubt and so Hugh seemed to think as he sat sideways in the saddle lazily doubled up with his chin nearly touching his knees and heedless of the dangling stirrups and loose bridal rain sawn it up and down on the little green before the door. Mind you take good care of her, sir, said John, appealing from this insensible person to his son in air who now appeared fully equipped and ready. Don't you ride hard? I should be puzzled to do that, I think, father, Joe replied, resting at his console at look at the animal. None of your impudence, sir, if you please, retorted old John. What would you ride, sir? A wild-ass or zebra would be too tame for you, wouldn't he, ae, sir? You'd like to ride a roaring lion, wouldn't you, sir, ae, sir? Hold your tongue, sir. When Mr. Willet, in his differences with his son, had exhausted all the questions that occurred to him and Joe had said nothing at all in answer, he generally wound up by bidding him hold his tongue. What does the boy mean, added Mr. Willet, after he had stared at him for a little time in a species of stupefaction, by cocking his hat to such an extent? Are you going to kill the witness, sir? No, said Joe Tartley, I'm not. Now your mind's at ease, father. With a military air, too, said Mr. Willet, surveying him from top to toe, with a swaggering, fire-eating, biling water drinking sort of way with him, and what do you mean by pulling up the crocuses and snow-drops, eh, sir? It's only a little nose-gaze, said Joe, reddening. There's no harm in that, I hope. You're a boy of business, you are, said Mr. Willet, disdainfully, to go supposing that witnesses care for nose-gaze. I don't suppose anything of the kind, returned Joe. Let them keep their red noses for bottles and tankards. These are going to Mr. Varden's house. Do you suppose he mined such things as crocuses, demanded John? I don't know, and to say the truth I don't care, said Joe. Come, father, give me the money, and in the name of patience let me go. There it is, sir, replied John, and take care of it, and mind you don't make too much haste back, but give the mayor a long rest, do you mind? Eh, I mind, returned Joe, she'll need it, have a nose. And don't you score up too much at the black lion, said John, mind that, too. Then why don't you let me have some money of my own, retorted Joe sorrowfully? Why don't you, father, what do you send me into London for, giving me only the right to call for my dinner at the black lion, which you're to pay for next time you go, as if I was not to be trusted with a few shillings? Why do you use me like this? It's not right of you. You can't expect me to be quiet under it. Let him have money, cried John, in a drowsy reverie. What does he call money? Ginny's? Hasn't he got money? Over and above the tolls? Hasn't he got one and six pence? One and six pence, repeated his son contemptuously. Yes, sir, returned John, one and six pence. When I was your age I had never seen so much money in a heap. A shilling of it is, in case of accidents, the mayor casting a shoe or the like of that. The other six pence is to spend in the diversions of London, and the diversion I recommend is going to the top of the monument, and sitting there. There's no temptation there, sir, no drink, no young women, no bad characters of any sort, nothing but imagination. That's the way I enjoyed myself when I was your age, sir. To this Joe made no answer, but Beckoning Hugh leaped into the saddle and rode away, and a very stalwart manly horseman he looked, deserving of better charge than it was his fortune to be stride. John stood staring after him, or rather after the gray mare, for he had no eyes for her rider, and Joe man and beast had been out of sight some twenty minutes, when he began to think they were gone, and slowly re-entering the house fell into a gentle dose. The unfortunate gray mare, who was the agony of Joe's life, floundered along at her own will and pleasure until the maypole was no longer visible, and then, contracting her legs into what, in a puppet would have been looked upon as a clumsy and awkward imitation of a canter, mended her pace all at once and did it of her own accord. The acquaintance with her rider's usual mode of proceeding, which suggested this improvement in hers, impelled her likewise to turn up a byway leading not to London, but through lanes running parallel with the road they had come, and passing within a few hundred yards of the maypole, which led finally to an enclosure surrounding a large old red-brick mansion, the same of which mention was made as the warren in the first chapter of this history. Coming to a dead stop and a little cops thereabout, she suffered her rider to dismount with right goodwill and to tie her to the trunk of a tree. Stay there, old girl, said Joe, and let us see whether there's any little commission for me today. So saying he left her to browse upon such stunted grass and weeds as happened to grow within the length of her tether, and passing through a wicket gate entered the grounds on foot. The pathway, after a very few minutes walking, brought him close to the house, towards which, and especially towards one particular window, he directed many covert glances. It was a dreary, silent building, with echoing courtyards, desolated turret chambers, and whole suites of rooms, shut up and moldering to ruin. The terrace garden, dark as a shade of overhanging trees, had an air of melancholy that was quite oppressive. Great iron gates, disused for many years and red with rust, drooping on their hinges and overgrown with long-ranked grass, seemed as though they tried to sink into the ground and hide their fallen state among the friendly weeds. The fantastic monsters on the walls, green with age and damp, and covered here and there with moss, looked grim and desolate. There was a somber aspect, even on that part of the mansion, which was inhabited and kept in good repair, that struck the beholder with a sense of sadness, of something forlorn and failing, whence cheerfulness was banished. It would have been difficult to imagine a bright fire blazing in the dull and darkened rooms, or to picture any gaiety of harder revelry that the frowning walls shut in. It seemed a place where such things had been but could be no more, the very ghost of a house, haunting the old spot in its old outward form, and that was all. Much of this decayed and somber look was attributable, no doubt, to the death of its former master and the temper of its present occupant. But remembering the tale connected with the mansion, it seemed the very place for such a deed, and one that might have been its predestined theater years upon years ago. Viewed with reference to this legend, the sheet of water where the steward's body had been found appeared to wear a black and sullen character, such as no other pool might own. The bell upon the roof that had told the tale of murder to the midnight wind became a very phantom, whose voice would raise the listener's hair on end, and every leafless bow that nodded to another had its stealthy whispering of the crime. Joe paced up and down the path, sometimes stopping in affected contemplation of the building or the prospect, sometimes leaning against a tree with an assumed air of idleness and indifference, but always keeping an eye upon the window he had singled out at first. After some quarter of an hour's delay, a small white hand was waved to him for an instant from this casement, and the young man with a respectful bow departed, saying under his breath as he crossed his horse again, no errand for me today. But the air of smartness, the cock of the hat to which John Willet had objected, and the spring nose gay, all betoken some little errand of his own, having a more interesting object than a vintner or even a locksmith. So indeed it turned out, for when he had settled with the vintner, whose place of business was down in some deep cellars hired by Thames Street, and who was as purple-faced and old gentleman as if he had all his life supported their arched roof on his head, when he had settled the account, and taken the receipt, and declined tasting more than three glasses of old sherry, to the unbounded astonishment of the purple-faced vintner, who gimlet in hand had projected an attack upon at least a score of dusty casks, and who stood transfixed or morally gimleted, as it were, to his own wall, when he had done all this, and disposed besides of a frugal dinner at the black lion in Whitechapel, spurning the monument and John's advice, he turned his steps towards the locksmith's house, attracted by the eyes of Blooming Dolly Varden. Joe was by no means a sheepish fellow, but for all that, when he got to the corner of the street in which the locksmith lived, he could by no means make up his mind to walk straight to the house. First he resolved to stroll up another street for five minutes, then up another street for five minutes more, and so on, until he had lost full half an hour. When he made a bold plunge and found himself with a red face and a beating heart in the smoky workshop. Joe will it or his ghost, said Varden, rising from the desk at which he was busy with his books, and looking at him under his spectacles? Which is it? Joe in the flesh? Eh? That's hearty. And how are all the chigwell company, Joe? Much as usual, sir, they and I agree as well as ever. Well, well, said the locksmith, we must be patient, Joe, and bear with old folk's foibles. How's the mayor, Joe? Does she do the four miles an hour as easily as ever? Ha, ha, ha! Does she, Joe? Eh! What have we there, Joe, a nose-gay? A very poor one, sir. I thought Miss Dolly. No, no, said Gabriel, dropping his voice and shaking his head. Not Dolly. Give him to her mother, Joe. A great deal better give him to her mother. Would you mind giving him to Mrs. Barton, Joe? Oh, no, sir, Joe replied, and endeavouring but not with the greatest possible success to hide his disappointment. I shall be very glad, I'm sure. That's right, said the locksmith, petting him on the back. It don't matter who has him, Joe. Not a bit, sir. Dear heart, how the words stuck in his throat. Come in, said Gabriel. I have just been called to tea. She's in the parlor. She, thought, Joe, which of them, I wonder, Mrs. or Miss. The locksmith settled the doubt as neatly as if it had been expressed aloud by leading him to the door and saying, Martha, my dear, here is young Mr. Willet. Now, Mrs. Barton, regarding the maypole as a sort of human mantrap or decoy for husbands, viewing its proprietor and all who aided and abetted him in the light of so many poachers among Christian men, and believing, moreover, that the publicans, coupled with sinners and holy writ, were veritable licensed vittalers, was far from being favorably disposed towards her visitor. Wherefore, she was taken faint directly and, being duly presented with the crocuses and snow-drops, divined on further consideration that they were the occasion of the langer which had seized upon her spirits. I'm afraid I couldn't bear the room another minute, said the good lady, if they remained here. Would you excuse my putting them out of window? Joe begged she wouldn't mention it on any account, and smiled feebly as he saw them deposited on the sill outside. If anybody could have known the pains he had taken to make up that despised and misused bunch of flowers, I feel it quite a relief to get rid of them, I assure you, said Mrs. Barton, I'm better already. And indeed she did appear to have plucked up her spirits. Joe expressed his gratitude to Providence for this favorable dispensation and tried to look as if he didn't wonder where Dolly was. The sad people at Chigwell, Mr. Joseph, said Mrs. V. I hope not, ma'am, returned Joe. You're the cruelest and most inconsiderate people in the world, said Mrs. Barton, bridling. I wonder, old Mr. Willet, having been a married man himself doesn't know better than to conduct himself as he does. His doing it for profit is no excuse. I would rather pay the money twenty times over and have Barton come home like a respectable and sober tradesman. If there is one character, said Mrs. Barton, with great emphasis, that offends and disgusts me more than another, it is a thought. Come, Martha, my dear, said the locksmith cheerly, let us have tea, and don't let us talk about thoughts. There aren't none here, and Joe don't want to hear about them, I dare say. At this crisis, Migs appeared with toast. I dare say he does not, said Mrs. Barton, and I dare say you do not, Barton. It's a very unpleasant subject I have no doubt, though I won't say it's personal. Migs coughed. Whatever I may be forced to think, Migs sneezed expressively. You never will know, Barton, and nobody at young Mr. Willet's age, you'll excuse me, sir, can be expected to know what a woman suffers when she is waiting at home under such circumstances. If you don't believe me, as I know you don't, here's Migs who is only too often a witness of it. Ask her. Oh, she were very bad the other night, sir. Indeed she were, said Migs. If you hadn't the sweetness of an angel in you, Mim, I don't think you could have bear it. I rarely don't. Migs, said Mrs. Barton, you're profane. Begging your pardon, Mim, returned Migs with shrill rapidity, such was not my intentions, and such I hope is not my character as I am but a servant. Answering me, Migs, and providing yourself, retorted her mistress, looking round with dignity, is one and the same thing. How dare you speak of angels in connection with your sinful fellow-beings? Mirror, said Mrs. Barton, glancing at herself in a neighboring mirror, and arranging the ribbon of her cap in a more becoming fashion. Mirror worms and grovelers as we are. I did not intend, Mim, if you please, to give offense, said Migs, confident in the strength of her compliment in developing strongly in the throat as usual, and I did not expect it would be took as such. I hope I know my own unworthiness and that I hate and despise myself and all my fellow-creatures, as every practicable Christian should. You'll have the goodness, if you please, said Mrs. Barton loftily, to step upstairs and see if Dolly has finished dressing, and to tell her that the chair that was ordered for her will be here in a minute, and that if she keeps it waiting I shall send it away that instant. I'm sorry to see that you don't take your tea, Barton, and that you don't take yours, Mr. Joseph, though of course it would be foolish of me to expect that anything that can be had at home and in the company of females would please you. This pronoun was understood in the plural sense and included both gentlemen, upon both of whom it was rather hard and undeserved, for Gabriel had applied himself to the meal with a very promising appetite until it was spoiled by Mrs. Barton herself, and Joe had as great a liking for the female society of the locksmith's house, or for a part of it at all events, as man could well entertain. But he had no opportunity to say anything in his own defense, for at that moment Dolly herself appeared, and struck him quite dumb with her beauty. Never had Dolly looked so handsome as she did then, in all the glow and grace of youth, with all her charms increased a hundred fold by a most becoming dress, by a thousand little coquettish ways which nobody could assume with a better grace, and all the sparkling expectation of that accursed party. It is impossible to tell how Joe hated that party wherever it was, and all the other people who were going to it whoever they were. And she hardly looked at him, no, hardly looked at him, and when the chair was seen through the open door, coming blundering into the workshop, she actually clapped her hands and seemed glad to go. But Joe gave her his arm, there was some comfort in that, and handed her into it. To see her seat herself inside, with her laughing eyes brighter than diamonds, and her hand, surely she had the prettiest hand in the world, on the ledge of the open window, and her little finger provokingly and pertly tilted up, as if it wondered why Joe didn't squeeze it or kiss it. To think how well one or two of the modest snowdrops would have become that delicate bodice, and how they were lying neglected outside the parlor window. To see how Miggs looked on was a face expressive of knowing how all this loveliness was got up, and of being in the secret of every string and pin and hook and eye, and of saying it ain't half as real as you think, and I could look quite as well myself if I took the pains. To hear that provoking precious little scream when the chair was hoisted on its poles, and to catch that transient but not to be forgotten vision of the happy face within, what torments and aggravations, and yet what delights for these, the very chairmen seemed favored rivals as they bore her down the street. There never was such an alteration in a small room in a small time as in that parlor when they went back to finish tea. So dark, so deserted, so perfectly disenchanted. It seemed such sheer nonsense to be sitting tamely there when she was at a dance with more lovers than men could calculate fluttering about her with the whole party doting on and adoring her and wanting to marry her. Miggs was hovering about, too, and the fact of her existence, the mere circumstance of her ever having been born, appeared after Dolly such an unaccountable practical joke. It was impossible to talk. It couldn't be done. He had nothing left for it but to stir his tea round and round and round and ruminate on all the fascinations of the locksmith's lovely daughter. Gabriel was dull, too. It was a part of the certain uncertainty of Mrs. Varden's temper that when they were in this condition she should be gay and sprightly. I need to have a cheerful disposition, I am sure, said the smiling housewife, to preserve any spirits at all, and how I do it I can scarcely tell. Ah, Mim, said Miggs, begging your pardon for the interruption, there aren't many like you. Take away, Miggs, said Mrs. Varden, rising. Take away, pray. I know I'm a restraint here, and as I wish everybody to enjoy themselves as they best can I feel I had better go. No, no, Martha, cried the locksmith. Stop here. I'm sure we shall be very sorry to lose you, eh, Joe? Joe started and said, certainly. Thank you, Varden, my dear, returned his wife, but I know your wish is better. Tobacco and beer or spirits have much greater attractions than any I can boast of, and therefore I shall go and sit upstairs and look out of window, my love. Good night, Mr. Joseph. I'm very glad to have seen you, and I only wish I could have provided something more suitable to your taste. Remember me very kindly, if you please, to old Mr. Willet, and tell him that whenever he comes here I have a crow to pluck with him. Good night. Having uttered these words with great sweetness of manner, the good lady dropped a curtsy remarkable for its condescension, and serenely withdrew. And it was for this Joe had looked forward to the 25th of March for weeks and weeks, and had gathered the flowers with so much care, and had cocked his hat and made himself so smart. This was the end of all his bold determination, resolved upon for the hundredth time to speak out to Dolly and tell her how we loved her. To see her for a minute, but for a minute, to find her going out to a party and glad to go, to be looked upon as a common pipe smoker, beer-biver, spirit-guzzler, and toss-pot. He bade farewell to his friend the locksmith, and hastened to take horse at the black lion, thinking as he turned towards home, as many another Joe has thought before and since, that here was an end to all his hopes, that the thing was impossible, and never could be, that she didn't care for him, that he was wretched for life, and that the only congenial prospect left him was to go for a soldier or a sailor, and get some obliging enemy to knock his brains out as soon as possible. CHAPTER XIV Joe Willet rode leisurely along in his desponding mood, picturing the locksmith's daughter going down long country dances, and pussetting dreadfully with bold strangers, which was almost too much to bear, when he heard the tramp of a horse's feet behind him, and looking back, saw a well-mounted gentleman advancing at a smart tanter. As this rider passed, he checked his steed, and called him with the maypole by his name. Joe set spurs to the gray mare, and was at his side directly. I thought it was you, sir, he said, touching his hat. A fair evening, sir, glad to see you out of doors again. The gentleman smiled and nodded. What gay doings have been going on today, Joe? Is she as pretty as ever? Nay, don't blush, man. If I colored it all, Mr. Edward, said Joe, which I didn't know I did, it was to think I should have been such a fool as ever to have any hope of her. She's as far out of my reach as heaven is. Well, Joe, I hope that's not all together beyond it, said Edward Good-Humorley. A. Side Joe, it's all very fine talking, sir. Proverbs are easily made in cold blood, but it can't be helped. Are you bound for our house, sir? Yes, as I am not quite strong yet, I shall stay there tonight and ride home coolly in the morning. If you're in no particular hurry, said Joe, after a short silence, and will bear with the pace of this poor jade, I shall be glad to ride on with you to the Warren, sir, and hold your horse when you dismount. It'll save you having to walk from the maypole there and back again. I can spare the time well, sir, for I am too soon. And so I returned, Edward, though I was unconsciously riding fast just now, in compliment, I suppose, to the pace of my thoughts, which were traveling post. We will keep together, Joe, willingly, and be as good company as may be. And cheer up, cheer up, think of the locksmith's daughter with a stout heart, and you shall win her yet. Joe shook his head, but there was something so cheery in the buoyant hopeful manner of this speech, that his spirits rose under its influence, and communicated, as it would seem, some new impulse, even to the gray mare, who, breaking from her sober amble into a gentle trot, emulated the pace of Edward Chester's horse, and appeared to flatter herself that he was doing his very best. It was a fine, dry night, and the light of a young moon, which was then just rising, shed around that peace and tranquility which gives to evening time its most delicious charm. The lengthened shadows of the trees, softened as if reflected in still water, threw their carpet on the path the travelers pursued, and the light winds stirred yet more softly than before, as though it were soothing nature in her sleep. By little and little they ceased talking, and rode on side by side in a pleasant silence. The maypole lights are brilliant tonight, said Edward, as they rode along the lane from which, while the intervening trees were bare of leaves that hostelry was visible. Brilliant indeed, sir, returned Joe, rising in his stirrups to get a better view. Lights in the large room, and a fire glimmering in the best bed-chamber. Why, what company can this be, before I wonder? Some benighted horseman, wending towards London, and deterred from going on tonight by the marvelous tales of my friend the High Women, I suppose, said Edward. He must be a horseman of good quality to have such accommodations. Your bed, too, sir. No matter, Joe, any other room will do for me. But come, there's nine striking, we may push on. They cantered forward at as brisk a pace as Joe's charger could attain, and presently stopped in the little cops where he had left her in the morning. Edward dismounted, gave his bridle to his companion, and walked with a light step towards the house. A female servant was waiting at a side gate in the garden wall, and admitted him without delay. He hurried along the terrace walk, and darted up a flight of broad steps leading into an old and gloomy hall, whose walls were ornamented with rusty suits of armor, antlers, weapons of the chase, and such light garniture. Here he paused, but not long, for as he looked round, as if expecting the attendant to have followed, and wondering she had not done so, a lovely girl appeared, whose dark hair next moment rested on his breast. Almost at the same instant a heavy hand was laid upon her arm. Edward felt himself thrust away, and Mr. Hairdale stood between them. He regarded the young man sternly without removing his hat, with one hand clashed his niece, and with the other in which he held his riding whip, motioned him towards the door. The young man drew himself up and returned his gaze. This is well done of you, sir, to corrupt my servants and enter my house, unbidden and in secret like a thief, said Mr. Hairdale, leave it, sir, and return no more. Miss Hairdale's presence, returned the young man, and your relationship to her, give you a license, which, if you are a brave man, you will not abuse. You have compelled me to this course, and the fault is yours, not mine. It is neither generous nor honorable, nor the act of a true man, sir, retorted the other, to tamper with the affections of a weak, trusting girl, while you shrink in your unworthiness from her guardian and protector, and dare not meet the light of day. More than this I will not say to you, save that I forbid you this house, and require you to be gone. It is neither generous nor honorable, nor the act of a true man, to play the spy, said Edward. Your words imply dishonor, and I reject them with the scorn they merit. You will find, said Mr. Hairdale calmly, your trusty go between in waving at the gate by which you entered. I have played no spy's part, sir. I chanced to see you pass the gate and followed. You might have heard me knocking for admission, had you been less swift of foot, or lingered in the garden, pleased to withdraw. Your presence here is offensive to me and distrustful to my niece. As he said these words, he passed his arm about the waist of the terrified and weeping girl, and drew her closer to him. And though the habitual severity of his manner was scarcely changed, there was yet a parent in the action, an air of kindness and sympathy for her distress. Mr. Hairdale, said Edward, your arm encircles her on whom I have set my every hope and thought, and to purchase one minute's happiness for whom I would gladly lay down my life. This house is the casket that holds the precious jewel of my existence. Your niece has plighted her faith to me, and I have plighted mine to her. What have I done that you should hold me in this light esteem, and give me these discourteous words? You have done that, sir, answered Mr. Hairdale, which must be undone. You have tied a lover's knot here, which must be cut asunder. Take good heed of what I say. Must. I cancel the bond between you. I reject you and all of your kiff and kin, all the false hollow heartless stock. High words, sir, said Edward scornfully. Words of purpose and meaning, as you will find, replied the other. Lay them to heart. Lay you them these, said Edward. Your cold and sullen temper, which chills every breast about you, which turns affection into fear and changes duty into dread, has forced us on this secret course, repugnant to our nature and our wish, and far more foreign, sir, to us than you. I am not a false, a hollow or a heartless man. The character is yours who poorly venture on these injurious terms against the truth and under the shelter, wherever I reminded you just now. You shall not cancel the bond between us. I will not abandon this pursuit. I rely upon your niece's truth and honor, and set your influence at naught. I leave her with the confidence in her pure faith, which you will never weaken, and with no concern, but that I do not leave her in some gentler care. With that he pressed her cold hand to his lips, and once more encountering and returning Mr. Hairedale's steady look with Drew. A few words to Joe as he mounted his horse, sufficiently explained what had passed, and renewed all that young gentleman's despondency with tenfold aggravation. They rode back to the maypole without exchanging a syllable, and arrived at the door with heavy hearts. Old John, who had peeped from behind the red curtain as they rode up, shouting for Hugh, was out directly, and said with great importance as he held the young man's stirrup, he's comfortable in bed, the best bed, a thorough gentleman, the smilingest affableist gentleman I ever had to do with. Who will it? said Edward carelessly as he dismounted. Your worthy father, sir, replied John, your honorable, venerable father. What does he mean? said Edward, looking with a mixture of alarm and doubt at Joe. What do you mean? said Joe. Don't you see Mr. Edward doesn't understand, father? Why, didn't you know that, sir? said John, opening his eyes wide. How very singular. Bless you, he's been here ever since noon today, and Mr. Hairedale has been having a long talk with him, and hasn't been gone an hour. My father will it? Yes, sir. He told me so. A handsome, slim, upright gentleman in green and gold, in your old room up yonder, sir. No doubt you can go in, sir, said John, walking backwards into the road and looking up at the window. He hasn't put out his candles yet, I see. Edward glanced at the window also, and hastily murmuring that he had changed his mind, forgotten something and must return to London, mounted his horse again and rode away, leaving the Willets, father and son, looking at each other in mute astonishment. End of Chapter 14. Chapter 15 of Barnaby Rudge. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Barnaby Rudge by Charles Dickens. Chapter 15. At noon next day, John Willets' guest sat lingering over his breakfast in his own home, surrounded by a variety of comforts, which left the May Pole's highest flight and utmost stretch of accommodation at an infinite distance behind, and suggested comparisons very much to the disadvantage and disfavor of that venerable tavern. In the broad old-fashioned window seat, as capacious as many modern sofas and cushioned to serve the purpose of a luxurious settee, in the broad old-fashioned window seat of a roomy chamber, Mr. Chester lounged, very much at his ease, over a well-furnished breakfast table. He had exchanged his riding-coat for a handsome morning gown, his boots for slippers, had been at great pains to atone for the having been obliged to make his toilette when he rose without the aid of dressing-case and tiring equipage, and having gradually forgotten through these means the discomforts of an indifferent night and an early ride was in a state of perfect complacency, indolence, and satisfaction. The situation in which he found himself, indeed, was particularly favorable to the growth of these feelings. For not to mention the lazy influence of a late and lonely breakfast with the additional sedative of a newspaper, there was an air of repose about his place of residence peculiar to itself, and which hangs about it even in these times when it is more bustling and busy than it was in days of yore. There are still worse places than the temple on a sultry day for basking in the sun or resting idly in the shade. There is yet a drowsiness in its courts and a dreamy dullness in its trees and gardens. Those who pace its lanes and squares may yet hear the echoes of their footsteps on the sounding stones and read upon its gates in passing from the tumult of the Strand or Fleet Street who enters here leaves noise behind. There is still the plash of falling water in Fair Fountain Court and there are yet nooks and corners where done haunted students may look down from their dusty garrets on a vagrant ray of sunlight patching the shade of the tall houses and seldom troubled to reflect passing strangers form. There is yet in the temple something of a clerically monkish atmosphere which public offices of law have not disturbed and even legal firms have failed to scare away. In summertime its pumps suggest a thirsty idlers springs cooler and more sparkling and deeper than other wells. And as they trace the spillings of full pictures on the heated ground they snuff the freshness and sighing cast sad looks towards the Thames and think of baths and boats and saunter on despondent. It was in a room in paper buildings a row of goodly tenements shaded in front by ancient trees and looking at the back upon the temple gardens that this our idler lounged. Now taking up again the paper he had laid down a hundred times now trifling with a fragments of his meal now pulling forth his golden toothpick and glancing leisurely about the room or out at window into the trim garden walk where a few early loiterers were already pacing to and fro here a pair of lovers met to quarrel and make up there a dark-eyed nursery maid had better eyes for Templars than her charge on this hand an ancient spinster with her lap dog in a string regarded both enormities with scornful side long looks on that a we as an old gentleman ogling the nursery maid looked with like scorn upon the spinster and wondered she didn't know she was no longer young apart from all these on the river's margin two or three couple of business talkers walked slowly up and down in earnest conversation and one young man sat thoughtfully on a bench alone net is amazingly patient said mr. Chester glancing at this last named person as he sat down his teacup implied the golden toothpick immensely patient he was sitting yonder when I began to dress and has scarcely changed his posture since a most eccentric dog as he spoke the figure rose and came towards him with a rapid pace really as if he had heard me said the father resuming his newspaper with a yawn dear Ned presently the room door opened and the young man entered to whom his father gently waved his hand and smiled are you at leisure for a little conversation sir said Edward surely Ned I am always at leisure you know my constitution have you breakfasted three hours ago what a very early dog cried his father contemplating him from behind the toothpick with a language smile the truth is said Edward bringing a chair forward and seating himself near the table that I slept but ill last night and was glad to rise the cause of my uneasiness cannot but be known to you sir and it is upon that I wish to speak my dear boy returned his father confided me I beg but you know my constitution don't be prosy Ned I will be plain and brief said Edward don't say you will my good fellow returned his father crossing his legs or you certainly will not you are going to tell me plainly this then said the son with an air of great concern that I know where you were last night from being on the spot indeed and whom you saw and what your purpose was you don't say so cried his father I am delighted to hear it it saves us the worry and terrible where and terrible long explanation and is a great relief for both at the very house why didn't you come up I should have been charmed to see you I knew that what I had to say would be better said after a night's reflection when both of us were cool returned the son for God Ned rejoined the father I was cool enough last night that detestable maypole by some infernal contrivance of the builder it holds the wind and keeps it fresh you remember the sharp east wind that blew so hard five weeks ago I give you my honor it was rampant in that old house last night though out of doors there was a dead calm but you were saying I was about to say have a nose how seriously and earnestly that you have made me wretched sir will you hear me gravely for a moment my dear Ned said his father I will hear you with the patience of an anchorite obliged me with the milk I saw Miss Herodale last night Edward resumed when he had complied with this request her uncle in her presence immediately after your interview and as of course I know in consequence of it forbade me the house and with circumstances of indignity which are of your creation I am sure commanded me to leave it on the instant for his manner of doing so I give you my honor Ned I am not accountable said his father that you must excuse he is a mere bore a log a brute with no address in life positively a fly in the jug the first I have seen this year Edward rose and paced the room his imperturbable parents sipped his tea father said the young man stopping at length before him we must not trifle in this matter we must not deceive each other or ourselves let me pursue the manly open part I wish to take and do not repel me by this unkind indifference whether I am indifferent or no returns the other I leave you my dear boy to judge a ride of 25 or 30 miles through my re-roads a maypole dinner a tetetet with hairdale which vanity apart was quite a Valentine and Orson business a maypole bed a maypole landlord and a maypole retinue of idiots and centaurs whether the voluntary endurance of these things looks like indifference dear Ned or like the excessive anxiety and devotion and all that sort of thing of a parent you shall determine for yourself I wish you to consider sir said Edward and what a cruel situation I am placed loving miss hairdale as I do my dear fellow interrupted his father with a compassionate smile you do nothing of the kind you don't know anything about it there's no such thing I assure you now do take my word for it you have good sense Ned great good sense I wonder you should be guilty of such amazing absurdities you really surprise me I repeat said his son firmly that I love her you have interposed to part us and have to the extent I have just now told you of succeeded may I induce you sir in time to think more favorably of our attachment or is it your intention and your fixed design to hold us a thunder if you can my dear Ned returned his father taking a pinch of snuff and pushing his box towards him that is my purpose most undoubtedly the time that has elapsed rejoined his son since I began to know her worth has flown in such a dream that until now I have hardly once paused to reflect upon my true position what is it from my childhood I have been accustomed to luxury and idleness and have been read as though my fortune were large and my expectations almost without a limit the idea of wealth has been familiarized to me from my cradle I have been taught to look upon those means by which men raise themselves to riches and distinction as being beyond my heating and beneath my care I have been as a phrase is liberally educated and fit for nothing I find myself at last wholly dependent upon you with no resource but in your favor in this momentous question of my life we do not and it would seem we never can agree I have shrunk instinctively alike from those to whom you have urged me to pay court and from the motives of interest and gain which have rendered them in your eyes visible objects for my suit if there never has been thus much plain speaking between us before sir the fault has not been mine indeed if I seem to speak too plainly now it is believe me father in the hope that there may be a franker spirit a worthier reliance and a kinder confidence between us in time to come my good fellow said his smiling father you quite affect me go on my dear Edward I beg but remember your promise there was great earnestness vast candor a manifest sincerity in all you say but I fear I observe the faintest indications of a tendency to prose I'm very sorry sir I am very sorry to Ned but you know that I cannot fix my mind for any long period upon one subject if you'll come to the point at once I'll imagine all that ought to go before and conclude it said oblige me with the milk again listening invariably makes me feverish what I would say then tends to this said Edward I cannot bear this absolute dependence sir even upon you time has been lost an opportunity thrown away but I am yet a young man may retrieve it will you give me the means of devoting such abilities and energies as I possess to some worthy pursuit will you let me try to make for myself an honorable path in life for any term you please to name say for five years if you will I will pledge myself to move no further in the matter of our difference without your full concurrence during that period I will endeavor earnestly and patiently if ever man did to open some prospects for myself and free you from the burden you fear I should become if I married one whose worth and beauty are her chief endowments will you do this sir at the expiration of the term we agree upon let us discuss the subject again till then unless it is revived by you let it never be renewed between us my dear Ned returned his father laying down the newspaper at which he had been glancing carelessly and throwing himself back in the window seat I believe you know how very much I dislike what are called family affairs which are only fit for plebeian Christmas days and have no manner of business with people of our condition but as you are proceeding upon a mistake Ned all together upon a mistake I will conquer my repugnance to entering on such matters and give you a perfectly plain and candid answer if you will do me the favor to shut the door Edward having obeyed him he took an elegant little knife from his pocket and pairing his nails continued you have to thank me Ned for being a good family for your mother a charming person as she was and almost broken hearted and so forth as she left me when she was prematurely compelled to become immortal had nothing to boast of in that respect her father was at least an eminent lawyer sir said Edward quite right Ned perfectly so he stood high at the bar had a great name and great wealth but having risen from nothing I have always closed my eyes to the circumstance and steadily resisted its contemplation but I fear his father dealt in pork and that his business did once involve cowheel and sausages he wished to marry his daughter into a good family he had his heart's desire Ned I was a younger son's younger son and I married her we each had our object and gained it she stepped at once into the politest and best circles and I stepped into a fortune which I assure you was very necessary to my comfort quite indispensable now my good fellow that fortune is among the things that have been it is gone Ned and has been gone how old are you I always forget seven and twenty sir are you indeed cried his father raising his eyelids in a languishing surprise so much then I should say Ned that as nearly as I remember its skirts vanished from human knowledge about eighteen or nineteen years ago it was about that time when I came to live in these chambers once your grandfather's and bequeathed by that extremely respectable person to me and commenced to live upon an inconsiderable annuity and my past reputation you are jesting with me sir said Edward not in the slightest degree I assure you returned his father with great composure these family topics are so extremely dry that I am sorry to say they don't admit of any such relief it is for that reason and because they have an appearance of business that I dislike them so very much well you know the rest a son Ned unless he is old enough to be a companion that is to say unless he is some two or three and twenty is not the kind of thing to have about one he is a restraint upon his father his father is a restraint upon him and they make each other mutually uncomfortable therefore until within the last four years or so I have a poor memory for dates and if I mistake you will correct me in your own mind you pursued your studies at a distance and picked up a great variety of accomplishments occasionally we passed a week or two together here and disconcerted each other is only such near relations can at last you came home I candidly tell you my dear boy but if you had been awkward and overgrown I should have exported you to some distant part of the world I wish with all my soul you had sir said Edward no you don't Ned said his father Cooley you are mistaken I assure you I found you a handsome prepossessing elegant fellow and I threw you into the society I can still command having done that my dear fellow I consider that I have provided for you in life and rely upon your doing something to provide for me in return I do not understand your meaning sir my meaning Ned is obvious I observe another fly in the cream jug but have the goodness not to take it out as you did the first for their walk when their legs are milky is extremely ungraceful and disagreeable my meaning is that you must do as I did that you must marry well and make the most of yourself I'm your fortune hunter cried the son indignantly what in the devil's name Ned would you be returned the father all men are fortune hunters are they not the law the church the court the camp see how they are all crowded with fortune hunters jostling each other in the pursuit the stock exchange the pulpit the counting house the royal drawing room the senate what but fortune hunters are they filled with a fortune hunter yes you are one and you would be nothing else my dear Ned if you were the greatest courtier lawyer legislator prelate or merchant in existence if you are squeamish and moral Ned console yourself for the reflection that at the very worst your fortune hunting can make but one person miserable or unhappy how many people do you suppose these other kinds of huntsmen crush and following their sport hundreds at a step or thousands the young man lent his head upon his hand and made no answer I am quite charmed said the father rising and walking slowly to info stopping now and then to glance at himself in the mirror or survey a picture through his glass with the air of a connoisseur that we have had this conversation Ned unpromising as it was it establishes a confidence between us which is quite delightful and was certainly necessary though how you can ever have mistaken our positions and designs I confess I cannot understand I conceived until I found your fancy for this girl that all these points were tacitly agreed upon between us I knew you were embarrassed sir returned the son raising his head for a moment and then falling into his former attitude but I had no idea we were the beggar dretches you described how could I suppose it read as I have been witnessing the life you have always led and the appearance you have always made my dear child said the father for you really talk so like a child that I must call you one you were read upon a careful principle the very manner of your education I assure you maintained my credit surprisingly as to the life I lead I must lead it Ned I must have these little refinements about me I have always been used to them and I cannot exist without them they must surround me you observe and therefore they are here with regard to our circumstances Ned you may set your mind at rest upon that score they are desperate your own appearance is by no means despicable and our joint pocket money alone devours our income that's the truth why have I never known this before why have you encouraged me sir to an expenditure and mode of life to which we have no right or title my good fellow returned his father more compassionately than ever if you made no appearance how could you possibly succeed in the pursuit as for a mode of life every man has a right to live in the best way he can and to make himself as comfortable as he can or he is an unnatural scoundrel our debts I grant are very great and therefore the more behoves you as a young man of principle and honor to pay them off as speedily as possible the villains part mothered Edward that I have unconsciously played I to win the heart of Emma Haerdale I would for her sake I had died first I am glad you see Ned returned his father how perfectly self evident it is that nothing can be done in that quarter but apart from this and the necessity of your speedily bestowing yourself on another as you know you could tomorrow if you chose I wish you'd look upon it pleasantly in a religious point of view alone how could you ever think of uniting yourself to a Catholic unless she was amazingly rich you ought to be so very Protestant coming of such a Protestant family as you do let us be moral Ned or we are nothing even if one could set that objection aside which is impossible we come to another which is quite conclusive the very idea of marrying a girl whose father was killed like meat could God Ned how disagreeable consider the impossibility of having any respect for your father-in-law under such unpleasant circumstances think of as having been viewed by jurors and sat upon by coroners and of his very doubtful position in the family ever afterwards it seems to me such an indelicate sort of thing that I really think the girl ought to have been put to death by the state to prevent its happening but I tease you perhaps you would rather be alone my dear Ned most willingly God bless you I should be going out presently but we shall meet tonight or if not tonight certainly tomorrow take care of yourself in the meantime for both our sakes you are a person of great consequence to me Ned a vast consequence indeed God bless you with these words the father who had been arranging his cravat in the glass while he uttered them in a disconnected careless manner with drew humming a tune as he went the son who had appeared so lost and thought as not to hear or understand them remained quite still and silent after the lapse of half an hour or so the elder Chester gaily dressed went out the younger still sat with his head resting on his hands in what appeared to be a kind of stupor End of Chapter 15 Chapter 16 of Barnaby Rudge this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Barnaby Rudge by Charles Dickens Chapter 16 a series of pictures representing the streets of London in the night even at the comparatively recent date of this tale would present to the eyes something so very different in character from the reality which is witnessed in these times that it would be difficult for the beholder to recognize his most familiar walks in the altered aspect of little more than half a century ago they were one and all from the broadest and best to the narrowest and least frequented very dark the oil and cotton lamps though regularly trimmed twice or thrice in the long winter nights burnt feebly at the best and at a late hour when they were unassisted by the lamps and candles in the shops cast but a narrow track of doubtful light upon the footway leaving the projecting doors and house fronts in the deepest gloom many of the courts and lanes were left in total darkness those of the meaner sword where one glimmering light twinkled for a score of houses being favored in no slight degree even in these places the inhabitants had often good reason for extinguishing their lamp as soon as it was lighted and the watch being utterly inefficient and powerless to prevent them they did so at their pleasure thus in the lightest thoroughfares there was at every turn some obscure and dangerous spot whether a thief might fly or shelter and few would care to follow and the city being belted round by fields, green lanes, waste grounds and lonely roads dividing it at that time from the suburbs that have joined it since escaped even where the pursuit was hot was rendered easy it is no wonder that with these favoring circumstances in full and constant operation street robberies often accompanied by cruel wounds and not unfrequently by loss of life should have been of nightly occurrence in the heart of London or that quiet folks should have had great dread of traversing its streets after the shops were closed it was not unusual for those who ended home alone at midnight to keep the middle of the road the better to guard against surprise from lurking foot-pads few would venture to repair at a late hour to Kentish Town or Hampstead or even to Kensington or Chelsea unarmed and unattended while he who had been loudest on the table of the tavern and had but a mile or so to go was glad to fee a link boy to escort him home there were many other characteristics not quite so disagreeable about the thoroughfares of London then with which they had been long familiar some of the shops especially those to the eastward of Temple Bar still adhered to the old practice of hanging out a sign and the creaking and swinging of these boards and their iron frames on windy nights formed a strange little concert for the ears of those who lay awake in bed or hurried through the streets long stands of hackney chairs and groups of chairmen compared with whom the coachmen of our day are gentle and polite obstructed the way and filled the air with clamor night cellars indicated by a little stream of light crossing the pavement and stretching out halfway into the road and by the stifled roar of voices from below yawned for the reception of the most abandoned of both sexes under every shed and bulk small groups of link boys gamed away the earnings of the day or one more weary than the rest gave way to sleep and let the fragment of his torch fall hissing on the puddled ground then there was the watch with staff and lantern crying the hour and the kind of weather and those who woke up at his voice and turned them round in bed were glad to hear it rained or snowed or blue or froze for very comfort's sake the solitary passenger was startled by the chairman's cry of by your leave there as two came trotting past him with their empty vehicle carried backwards to show it's being disengaged and hurried to the nearest stand many a private chair too in closing some sign lady monstrously hooped and furbelowed and proceeded by running footmen bearing flambos for which extinguishers are yet suspended before the doors of a few houses of the better sort made the way gay and light as it danced along and darker and more dismal when it had passed it was not unusual for these running gentry who carried it with a very high hand to quarrel in the servants' hall while waiting for their masters and mistresses and falling to blows either there or in the street without to strew the place of skirmish with hair powder fragments of bagwigs and scattered nosegays gaming the vice which ran so high among all classes the fashion being of course set by the upper was generally the cause of these disputes for cards and dice were as openly used and worked as much mischief and yielded as much excitement below stairs as above while incidents like these arising out of drums and masquerades and parties at quidrill were passing at the west end of the town heavy stagecoaches and scarce heavier wagons were lumbering slowly towards the city the coachman guard and passengers armed to the teeth and the coach, a day or so perhaps behind its time but that was nothing, despoiled by highwaymen who made no scruple to attack alone and single-handed a whole caravan of goods and men and sometimes shot a passenger or two and were sometimes shot themselves as the case might be on the morrow rumors of this new act of daring on the road yielded matter for a few hours conversation through the town and a public progress of some fine gentleman half drunk to Tyburn dressed in the newest fashion and damning the ordinary with unspeakable gallantry and grace furnished to the populace at once a pleasant excitement and a wholesome and profound example among all the dangerous characters who in such a state of society prowled and sculpt in the metropolis at night there was one man from whom many as uncoothed and fierce as he shrunk with an involuntary dread who he was or whence he came was a question often asked but which none could answer his name was unknown he had never been seen until within about eight days or thereabouts and was equally a stranger to the old ruffians upon whose haunts he ventured fearlessly as to the young he could be no spy for he never removed his slouched hat to look about him entered into conversation with no man he did nothing that passed listened to no discourse regarded nobody that came or went but so surely as the dead of night set in so surely this man was in the midst of the loose concourse in the night cellar were outcasts of every grade resorted and there he sat till morning he was not only a specter at their licentious feasts in the midst of all their revelry and riot that children haunted them but out of doors he was the same directly it was dark he was abroad never in company with anyone but always alone never lingering or loitering but always walking swiftly and looking so they said who had seen him over his shoulder from time to time and as he did so quickening his pace in the fields the lanes the roads and all quarters of the town north and south that man was seen gliding on like the shadow he was always hurrying away those who encountered him saw him steel past caught sight of the backward glance and so lost him in the darkness this constant restlessness and flitting to and fro gave rise to strange stories he was seen in such distant and remote places at times so nearly tallying with each other that some doubted whether there were not two of them or more some whether he had not unearthly means of traveling from spot to spot the footpad hiding in a ditch had marked him passing like a ghost along its brink the vagrant had met him on the dark high road the beggar had seen him pause upon the bridge to look down at the water and then sweep on again they who dealt in bodies with the surgeons could swear he slept in churchyards and that they had beheld him glide away on their approach and as they told these stories to each other one who had looked about him would pull his neighbor by the sleeve and there he would be among them at last one man he was one of those whose commerce lay among the graves resolved to question this strange companion next night when he had eat his poor meal voraciously he was accustomed to do that they had observed as though he had no other in the day this fellow sat down at his elbow a black knight master it is a black knight blacker than last though that was pitchy too didn't I pass you near the turnpike in the oxford road it's like you may I don't know come come master cried the fellow urged on by the looks of his comrades and slapping him on the shoulder be more companionable and communicative be more the gentleman in this good company there are tales among us that you have sold yourself to the devil and I know not what we all have, have we not returned the stranger looking up if we were fewer in number perhaps he would give better wages it goes rather hard with you indeed said the fellow as the stranger disclosed his haggard unwashed face and torn clothes what of that be merry master a stave of a roaring song now sing you if you desire to hear one shaking him roughly off and don't touch me if you're a prudent man I carry arms which go off easily they have done so before now and make it dangerous for strangers who don't know the trick of them to lay hands upon me do you threaten said the fellow yes returns the other rising and turning upon him and looking fiercely round as if an apprehension of a general attack his voice and look and varying all expressive of the wildest recklessness and desperation daunted while they repelled the bystanders although in a very different sphere of action now they were not without much of the effect they had wrought at the maypole in I am what you all are and live as you all do said the man sternly after a short silence I am in hiding here like the rest and if we were surprised would perhaps do my part with the best of you if it's my humor to be left to myself let me have it otherwise and here he swore a tremendous oath there will be mischief done in this place though there are odds of a score against me alone murmur having its origin perhaps in a dread of the man and the mystery that surrounded him or perhaps in a sincere opinion on the part of some of those present that it would be an inconvenient precedent to meddle too curiously with a gentleman's private affairs if he saw reason to conceal them warned the fellow who had occasioned this discussion that he had best pursue it no further after a short time the strange man lay down upon a bench to sleep and when they thought of him again they found he was gone next night as soon as it was dark he was abroad again and traversing the streets he was before the locksmith's house more than once but the family were out and it was close shut this night he crossed London bridge and passed into Southark as he glided down a by street a woman with a little basket on her arm turned into it at the other end directly he observed her he sought the shelter of an archway and stood aside until she had passed then he emerged cautiously from his hiding place and followed she went into several shops to purchase various kinds of household necessaries and round every place at which she stopped he hovered like her evil spirit following her when she reappeared it was nine eleven o'clock and the passengers in the streets were thinning fast when she turned doubtless to go home the phantom still followed her she turned into the same by street in which he had seen her first which being free from shops and narrow was extremely dark she quickened her pace here as though distrustful of being stopped and robbed of such trifling property as she carried with her he crept along on the other side of the road had she been gifted with the speed of wind it seemed as if his terrible shadow would have tracked her down at length the widow for she it was reached her own door and panting for breath paused to take the key from her basket in a flush and glow with the haste she had made and the pleasure of being safe at home she stooped to draw it out when raising her head she saw him standing silently beside her the apparition of a dream his hand was on her mouth but that was needless for her tongue clove to its roof and her power of utterance was gone I have been looking for you many nights is the house empty? answer me is anyone inside she could only answer by a rattle in her throat make me a sign she seemed to indicate that there was no one there he took the key unlocks the door carried her in and secured it carefully behind them End of Chapter 16 Chapter 17 of Barnaby Rudge this is a LibriVox recording all LibriVox recordings are in the public domain for more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org Barnaby Rudge by Charles Dickens Chapter 17 it was a chilly night and the fire in the widow's parlor had burnt low her strange companion placed her in a chair and stooping down before the half extinguished ashes raked them together and fanned them with his hat from time to time he glanced at her over his shoulder as though to assure himself of her remaining quiet and making no effort to depart and that done busied himself about the fire again it was not without reason that he took these pains for his dress was dank and drenched with wet his jaws rattled with cold and he shivered from head to foot it had rained hard during the previous night and for some hours in the morning but since noon it had been fine wheresoever he had passed the hours of darkness his conditions sufficiently betokened that many of them had been spent beneath the open sky he smeared with mire saturated clothes clinging with a damp embrace about his limbs his beard unshaven his face unwashed his meager cheeks worn into deep hollows a more miserable wretch could hardly be than this man who now cowered down upon the widow's hearth and watched the struggling flame with bloodshot eyes she had covered her face with her hands fearing as it seemed to look towards him so they remained for some short time in silence glancing round again he asked at length is this your house it is why in the name of heaven do you darken it give me meat and drink he answered sullenly or I dare do more than that the very marrow in my bones is cold with wet and hunger I must have warmth and food and I will have them here you were the robber on the chigwell road I was the murderer then the will was not wanting there was one came upon me and raised the hue and cry that it would have gone hard with but for his nimbleness I made a thrust at him you thrust your sword at him cried the widow looking upwards you hear this man you hear and saw he looked at her as with her head thrown back and her hands tight clenched together she uttered these words in an agony of appeal then starting to his feet as she had done he advanced towards her beware she cried in a suppressed voice whose firmness stopped him midway do not so much as touch me with a finger or you are lost body and soul you are lost hear me he replied menacing her with his hand I that in the form of a man lived the life of a hunted beast that in the body of a spirit a ghost upon the earth a thing from which all creatures shrink save those cursed beings of another world who will not leave me I am in my desperation of this night past all fear but that of the hell in which I exist from day to day give the alarm cry out refuse to shelter me I will not hurt you but I will not be taken alive and so surely as you threaten me above your breath I fall a dead man on this floor the blood with which I sprinkle it you and yours and the name of the evil spirit that tempts men to their ruin as he spoke he took a pistol from his breast and firmly clutched it in his hand remove this man from me good heaven cried the widow in thy grace and mercy give him one minute's penitence and strike him dead it has no such purpose he said confronting her it is death give me to eat and drink lest I do that it cannot help my doing and will not do for you will you leave me if I do thus much will you leave me and return no more I will promise nothing he rejoined seating himself at the table nothing but this I will execute my thread if you betray me she rose at length and going to a closet or pantry in the room brought out some fragments of cold meat and bread and put them on the table he asked for brandy and for water these she produced likewise and he ate and drank with the veracity of a famished hound all the time he was so engaged she kept at the uttermost distance of the chamber and sat there shuttering what was her face towards him she never turned her back upon him once and although when she passed him as she was obliged to do and going to and from the cupboard she gathered the skirts of her garment about her as if even its touching his by chance were horrible to think of still in the midst of all this dread and terror she kept her face towards his own and watched his every movement his repast ended if that can be called one which was a mere ravenous satisfying of the calls of hunger he moved his chair towards the fire again and warming himself before the blaze which had now sprung brightly up a cost of her once more I am an outcast to whom a roof above his head is often an uncommon luxury and the food a beggar would reject is delicate fair you live here at your ease do you live alone I do not she made answer with an effort who dwells here besides one it is no matter who you had best be gone or he may find you here why do you linger for warmth he replied spreading out his hands before the fire for warmth you are rich perhaps very she said faintly very rich no doubt I am very rich at least you are not penniless you have some money you are making purchases tonight I have a little left it is but a few shillings give me your purse you had it in your hand at the door give it to me she stepped to the table and laid it down he reached across took it up and told the contents into his hand he was counting them she listened for a moment and sprung towards him take what there is take all take more if more were there but go before it is too late I have heard a wayward step without I know full well it will return directly be gone what do you mean do not stop to ask I will not answer much as I dread to touch you I would drag you to the door if I possessed the strength rather than you should lose an instant miserable wretch fly from this place if there are spies without I am safer here replied the man standing aghast I will remain here and will not fly till the danger has passed it is too late cried the widow who had listened for this step and not to him hark to that foot upon the ground do you tremble to hear it it is my son my idiot son as she said this wildly there came a heavy knocking at the door he looked at her and she at him let him come in said the man hoarsely I fear him less than the dark houseless night he knocks again let him come in the dread of this hour returns the widow has been upon me all my life and I will not evil will fall upon him if you stand eye to eye my blighted boy all good angels who know the truth hear a poor mother's prayer and spare my boy from knowledge of this man he rattles at the shutters cried the man he calls you that voice and cry it was he who grappled with me in the road was it he she had sunk upon her knees and so knelt down moving her lips but uttering no sound as he gazed upon her uncertain what to do or where to turn the shutters flew open he had barely time to catch a knife from the table sheathed in the loose sleeve of his coat hide in the closet and do all with the lightning speed when Barnaby tapped at the bare glass and raised the sash exultantly well who can keep out gripping me he cried dusting in his head and staring round the room are you there mother how long you keep us from the fire and light she stammered some excuse and tendered him her hand but Barnaby sprung lightly in without assistance and putting his arms about her neck kissed her a hundred times she yelled mother leaping ditches scrambling through hedges running down steep banks up and away and hurrying on the wind has been blowing in the rushes and young plants bowing and bending to it lest it should do them harm the cowards and grip ha ha brave grip who cares for nothing and when the wind rolls him over and the dust turns manfully to bite it grip bold grip has quarreled with every little bowing twig thinking he told me and has worried it like a bulldog ha ha ha the raven in his little basket at his master's back hearing this frequent mention of his name in a tone of exultation expressed his sympathy by crowing like a cop and afterwards running over his various phrases of speech with such rapidity and in so many varieties of hoarseness that they sounded like the murmurs of a crowd of people he takes such care of me besides said Barnaby such care of his mother he watches all the time I sleep and when I shut my eyes and make believe to slumber he practices new learning softly but he keeps his eye on me the while and if he sees me laugh they'll never so little stops directly he won't surprise me till he's perfect the raven crowed again in a rapturous manner which plainly said those are certainly some of my characteristics and I glory in them in the meantime Barnaby closed the window and secured it and coming to the fireplace prepared to sit down with his face to the closet but his mother prevented this by hastily taking that side herself and motioning him towards the other how pale you are tonight said Barnaby leaning on his stick we have been cruel grip and made her anxious anxious and good truth and sick at heart the listener held the door of his hiding place open with his hand and quickly watched her son grip alive to everything his master was unconscious of had his head out of the basket and in return was watching him intently with his glistening eye he flaps his wings said Barnaby turning almost quickly enough to catch the retreating form and closing door as if there were strangers here but grip is wiser than to fancy that jump then accepting this invitation was a surprise to himself the bird hopped up on his master's shoulder from that to his extended hand and so to the ground Barnaby unstrapping the basket and putting it down in a corner with the lid open grip's first care was to shut it down with all possible dispatch and then to stand upon it believing no doubt that he had now rendered it utterly impossible and beyond the power of mortal man to shut him up in it any more he drew a great many corks and triumph uttered a corresponding number of her eyes mother said Barnaby laying aside his hat and stick and returning to the chair from which he had risen I'll tell you where we have been today and what we have been doing, shall I? she took his hand in hers and holding it nodded the words she could not speak you mustn't tell said Barnaby holding up his finger for it's a secret mind and only known to me and grip and Hugh we had the dog with us not like grip clever as he is and doesn't guess it yet I'll wager why do you look behind me so? did I? she answered faintly I didn't know I did come nearer me you are frightened said Barnaby changing color mother you don't see see what? there's none of this about is there he answered in a whisper drawing closer to her and clasping the mark upon his wrist I'm afraid there is somewhere you make my hair stand on end and my flesh creep why do you look like that? is it in the room as I have seen it in my dreams dashing the ceiling and the walls with red? tell me is it? he fell into a shivering fit as he put the question and shutting out the light with his hands sat shaking in every limb until it had passed away after a time he raised his head and looked about him is it gone? there has been nothing here rejoined his mother soothing him nothing indeed dear Barnaby look you see there are but you and me he gazed at her vacantly and becoming reassured by degrees burst into a wild laugh but let us see he said thoughtfully were we talking was it you and me where have we been? no where but here I but you and I said Barnaby that's it may Paul you and I you know and grip we have been lying in the forest and among the trees by the roadside with a dark lantern after night came on and the dog in a noose ready to slip him when the man came by what man? the robber him that the stars winked at we have waited for him after dark these many nights and we shall have him I'd know him in a thousand mother see here this is the man look he twisted his handkerchief round his head his hat upon his brow wrapped his coat about him and stood up before her so like the original he counterfitted that the dark figure peering out behind him might have passed for his own shadow ha ha ha we shall have him he cried ridding himself of the semblance as hastily as he had assumed it you shall see him mother bound hand and foot and brought to London at a saddle-curse and you shall hear of him at Tibern Tree if we have luck so Hugh says you're pale again and trembling and why do you look behind me so it is nothing she answered I am not quite well go you to bed dear and leave me here to bed he answered I don't like bed I like to lie before the fire watching the prospects and the burning coals the rivers, hills and dels and the deep red sunset and the wild faces I'm hungry too good noon let us to supper grip to supper lad the raven flapped his wings and croaking his satisfaction hopped to the feet of his master and there held his bill open ready for snapping up such lumps of meat as he should throw him of these he received about a score in rapid succession without the smallest discomposure that's all said Barnaby more cried grip more but it appearing for a certainty when the door was to be had he retreated with his store and discouraging the morsels one by one from his pouch hid them in various corners taking particular care however to avoid the closet as being doubtful of the hidden man's propensities and power of resisting temptation when he had concluded these arrangements he took a turn or two across the room with an elaborate assumption of having nothing on his mind but with one eye hard upon his treasure and then and not till then began to drag it out piece by piece and eat it with the utmost relish Barnaby for his part having pressed his mother to eat in vain made a hearty supper too once during the progress of his meal he wanted more bread from the closet and rose to get it she hurriedly interposed to prevent him and summoning her utmost fortitude passed into the recess and brought it out herself mother said Barnaby looking at her steadfastly as she sat down beside him after doing so is today my birthday today she answered don't you recollect it was but a week or so ago and that summer autumn and winter have to pass before it comes again I remember that it has been so till now said Barnaby but I think today must be my birthday too for all that she asked him why he said I have always seen you I didn't let you know it but I have on the evening of that day grow very sad I have seen you cry when Grip and I were most glad and look frightened with no reason and I have touched your hand and felt that it was cold as it is now once mother on a birthday that was also Grip and I thought of this after we went upstairs to bed and when it was midnight striking one o'clock we came down to your door to see yourself you were on your knees I forget what it was you said Grip what was it we heard her say that night I'm a devil rejoined the raven promptly no no said Barnaby but you said something in a prayer and when you rose and walked about you looked as you have done ever since mother towards night on my birthday just as you do now I have found that out you see though I am silly so I say you're wrong and this is my birthday my birthday Grip the bird received this information with a crow of such duration as a cock gifted with intelligence beyond all others of his kind might usher in the longest day with then as if he had well considered the sentiment and regarded it as apposite to birthdays he cried never say die a great many times and flapped his wings for emphasis work and endeavor to divert his attention to some new subject too easy a task at all times as she knew his supper done Barnaby regardless of her entreaties stretched himself on the mat before the fire Grip perched upon his leg in dividing his time between dozing and the grateful warmth and endeavoring as it presently appeared to recall a new accomplishment he had been studying all day along in profound silence ensued and only by some change of position on the part of Barnaby whose eyes were still wide open and intently fixed upon the fire or by an effort of recollection on the part of Grip who would cry in a low voice from time to time Polly put the cat and there stopped short forgetting the remainder and go off in a dose again after a long interval Barnaby's breathing grew more deep and regular and his eyes were closed but even then the unquiet spirit of the woman interposed Polly put the cat cried Grip and his master was brought awake again at length Barnaby slept soundly and the bird with his bill sunk upon his breast his breast itself puffed out into a comfortable alderman-like form and his bright eye growing smaller and smaller really seemed to be subsiding into a state of repose now and then he muttered in a sepical voice Polly put the cat on a drunken man in a reflecting raven the widow scarcely venturing to breathe rose from her seat the man glided from the closet and extinguished the candle Polly cried Grip suddenly struck with an idea and very much excited Polly put the cat Polly put the cat Polly put the cat Polly put the cat Polly put the cat Polly put the cat keep up your spirits never say died ba-wa-wa I'm a devil I'm a kettle I'm a Polly put the kettle on well I'll have tea they stood rooted to the ground as though it had been a voice from the grave but even this failed to awaken the sleeper he turned over towards the fire his arm fell to the ground and his head drooped heavily upon it the widow and her unwelcome visitor gazed at him and at each other for a moment and then she motioned him towards the door Stay, he whispered. You teach your son well. I have taught him nothing that you heard tonight. Depart instantly or I will rouse him. You are free to do so. Shall I rouse him? You dare not do that. I dare do anything. I have told you. He knows me well, it seems. At least I will know him. Would you kill him in his sleep? Cried the widow, throwing herself between them. Woman, he returned between his teeth as he motioned her aside, I would see him nearer, and I will. If you want one of us to kill the other, wake him. With that he advanced, and bending down over the prostrate form, softly turned back the head and looked into the face. The light of the fire was upon it, and this every lineament was revealed distinctly. He contemplated it for a brief space and hastily up rose. Observe, he whispered in the widow's ear, in him of whose existence I was ignorant until tonight I have you in my power. Be careful how you use me. Be careful how you use me. I am destitute and starving in a wanderer upon the earth. I may take a sure and slow revenge. There is some dreadful meaning in your words. I do not fathom it. There is a meaning in them, and I see you fathom it to its very depth. You have anticipated it for years. You have told me as much. I leave you to digest it. Do not forget my warning. He pointed as he left her to the slumbering form, and stealthily withdrawing made his way into the street. She fell on her knees beside the sleeper, and remained like one stricken into stone, until the tears which fear had frozen so long came tenderly to her relief. Oh, thou, she cried, who has taught me such deep love for this one remnant of the promise of a happy life, out of whose affliction even perhaps the comfort springs that he is ever a relying, loving child to me, never growing old or cold at heart, but needing my care and duty in his manly strength as in his cradle time. Help him in his darkened walk through this sad world where he is doomed, and my poor heart is broken.