第 38 页

to seek for more--a vague awe and horror surrounded the idea of his

slinking in again with stealthy tread, and turning his face toward the

empty bed, while she shrank down close at his feet to avoid his touch,

which was almost insupportable. She sat and listened. Hark! A

footstep on the stairs, and now the door was slowly opening. It was

but imagination, yet imagination had all the terrors of reality; nay,

it was worse, for the reality would have come and gone, and there an

end, but in imagination it was always coming, and never went away.

The feeling which beset the child was one of dim uncertain horror. She

had no fear of the dear old grandfather, in whose love for her this

disease of the brain had been engendered; but the man she had seen that

night, wrapt in the game of chance, lurking in her room, and counting

the money by the glimmering light, seemed like another creature in his

shape, a monstrous distortion of his image, a something to recoil from,

and be the more afraid of, because it bore a likeness to him, and kept

close about her, as he did. She could scarcely connect her own

affectionate companion, save by his loss, with this old man, so like

yet so unlike him. She had wept to see him dull and quiet. How much

greater cause she had for weeping now!

The child sat watching and thinking of these things, until the phantom

in her mind so increased in gloom and terror, that she felt it would be

a relief to hear the old man's voice, or, if he were asleep, even to

see him, and banish some of the fears that clustered round his image.

She stole down the stairs and passage again. The door was still ajar

as she had left it, and the candle burning as before.

She had her own candle in her hand, prepared to say, if he were waking,

that she was uneasy and could not rest, and had come to see if his were

still alight. Looking into the room, she saw him lying calmly on his

bed, and so took courage to enter.

Fast asleep. No passion in the face, no avarice, no anxiety, no wild

desire; all gentle, tranquil, and at peace. This was not the gambler,

or the shadow in her room; this was not even the worn and jaded man

whose face had so often met her own in the grey morning light; this was

her dear old friend, her harmless fellow-traveller, her good, kind

grandfather.

She had no fear as she looked upon his slumbering features, but she had

a deep and weighty sorrow, and it found its relief in tears.

'God bless him!' said the child, stooping softly to kiss his placid

cheek. 'I see too well now, that they would indeed part us if they

found us out, and shut him up from the light of the sun and sky. He

has only me to help him. God bless us both!'

Lighting her candle, she retreated as silently as she had come, and,

gaining her own room once more, sat up during the remainder of that

long, long, miserable night.

At last the day turned her waning candle pale, and she fell asleep.

She was quickly roused by the girl who had shown her up to bed; and, as

soon as she was dressed, prepared to go down to her grandfather. But

first she searched her pocket and found that her money was all

gone--not a sixpence remained.

The old man was ready, and in a few seconds they were on their road.

The child thought he rather avoided her eye, and appeared to expect

that she would tell him of her loss. She felt she must do that, or he

might suspect the truth.

'Grandfather,' she said in a tremulous voice, after they had walked

about a mile in silence, 'do you think they are honest people at the

house yonder?'

'Why?' returned the old man trembling. 'Do I think them honest--yes,

they played honestly.'

'I'll tell you why I ask,' rejoined Nell. 'I lost some money last

night--out of my bedroom, I am sure. Unless it was taken by somebody

in jest--only in jest, dear grandfather, which would make me laugh

heartily if I could but know it--'

'Who would take money in jest?' returned the old man in a hurried

manner. 'Those who take money, take it to keep. Don't talk of jest.'

'Then it was stolen out of my room, dear,' said the child, whose last

hope was destroyed by the manner of this reply.

'But is there no more, Nell?' said the old man; 'no more anywhere? Was

it all taken--every farthing of it--was there nothing left?'

'Nothing,' replied the child.

'We must get more,' said the old man, 'we must earn it, Nell, hoard it

up, scrape it together, come by it somehow. Never mind this loss.

Tell nobody of it, and perhaps we may regain it. Don't ask how;--we

may regain it, and a great deal more;--but tell nobody, or trouble may

come of it. And so they took it out of thy room, when thou wert

asleep!' he added in a compassionate tone, very different from the

secret, cunning way in which he had spoken until now. 'Poor Nell, poor

little Nell!'

The child hung down her head and wept. The sympathising tone in which

he spoke, was quite sincere; she was sure of that. It was not the

lightest part of her sorrow to know that this was done for her.

'Not a word about it to any one but me,' said the old man, 'no, not

even to me,' he added hastily, 'for it can do no good. All the losses

that ever were, are not worth tears from thy eyes, darling. Why should

they be, when we will win them back?'

'Let them go,' said the child looking up. 'Let them go, once and for

ever, and I would never shed another tear if every penny had been a

thousand pounds.'

'Well, well,' returned the old man, checking himself as some impetuous

answer rose to his lips, 'she knows no better. I ought to be thankful

of it.'

'But listen to me,' said the child earnestly, 'will you listen to me?'

'Aye, aye, I'll listen,' returned the old man, still without looking at

her; 'a pretty voice. It has always a sweet sound to me. It always

had when it was her mother's, poor child.'

'Let me persuade you, then--oh, do let me persuade you,' said the

child, 'to think no more of gains or losses, and to try no fortune but

the fortune we pursue together.'

'We pursue this aim together,' retorted her grandfather, still looking

away and seeming to confer with himself. 'Whose image sanctifies the

game?'

'Have we been worse off,' resumed the child, 'since you forgot these

cares, and we have been travelling on together? Have we not been much

better and happier without a home to shelter us, than ever we were in

that unhappy house, when they were on your mind?'

'She speaks the truth,' murmured the old man in the same tone as

before. 'It must not turn me, but it is the truth; no doubt it is.'

'Only remember what we have been since that bright morning when we

turned our backs upon it for the last time,' said Nell, 'only remember

what we have been since we have been free of all those miseries--what

peaceful days and quiet nights we have had--what pleasant times we have

known--what happiness we have enjoyed. If we have been tired or

hungry, we have been soon refreshed, and slept the sounder for it.

Think what beautiful things we have seen, and how contented we have

felt. And why was this blessed change?'

He stopped her with a motion of his hand, and bade her talk to him no

more just then, for he was busy. After a time he kissed her cheek,

still motioning her to silence, and walked on, looking far before him,

and sometimes stopping and gazing with a puckered brow upon the ground,

as if he were painfully trying to collect his disordered thoughts.

Once she saw tears in his eyes. When he had gone on thus for some

time, he took her hand in his as he was accustomed to do, with nothing

of the violence or animation of his late manner; and so, by degrees so

fine that the child could not trace them, he settled down into his

usual quiet way, and suffered her to lead him where she would.

When they presented themselves in the midst of the stupendous

collection, they found, as Nell had anticipated, that Mrs Jarley was

not yet out of bed, and that, although she had suffered some uneasiness

on their account overnight, and had indeed sat up for them until past

eleven o'clock, she had retired in the persuasion, that, being

overtaken by storm at some distance from home, they had sought the

nearest shelter, and would not return before morning. Nell immediately

applied herself with great assiduity to the decoration and preparation

of the room, and had the satisfaction of completing her task, and

dressing herself neatly, before the beloved of the Royal Family came

down to breakfast.

'We haven't had,' said Mrs Jarley when the meal was over, 'more than

eight of Miss Monflathers's young ladies all the time we've been here,

and there's twenty-six of 'em, as I was told by the cook when I asked

her a question or two and put her on the free-list. We must try 'em

with a parcel of new bills, and you shall take it, my dear, and see

what effect that has upon 'em.'

The proposed expedition being one of paramount importance, Mrs Jarley

adjusted Nell's bonnet with her own hands, and declaring that she

certainly did look very pretty, and reflected credit on the

establishment, dismissed her with many commendations, and certain

needful directions as to the turnings on the right which she was to

take, and the turnings on the left which she was to avoid. Thus

instructed, Nell had no difficulty in finding out Miss Monflathers's

Boarding and Day Establishment, which was a large house, with a high

wall, and a large garden-gate with a large brass plate, and a small

grating through which Miss Monflathers's parlour-maid inspected all

visitors before admitting them; for nothing in the shape of a man--no,

not even a milkman--was suffered, without special license, to pass that

gate. Even the tax-gatherer, who was stout, and wore spectacles and a

broad-brimmed hat, had the taxes handed through the grating. More

obdurate than gate of adamant or brass, this gate of Miss Monflathers's

frowned on all mankind. The very butcher respected it as a gate of

mystery, and left off whistling when he rang the bell.

As Nell approached the awful door, it turned slowly upon its hinges

with a creaking noise, and, forth from the solemn grove beyond, came a

long file of young ladies, two and two, all with open books in their

hands, and some with parasols likewise. And last of the goodly

procession came Miss Monflathers, bearing herself a parasol of lilac

silk, and supported by two smiling teachers, each mortally envious of

the other, and devoted unto Miss Monflathers.

Confused by the looks and whispers of the girls, Nell stood with

downcast eyes and suffered the procession to pass on, until Miss

Monflathers, bringing up the rear, approached her, when she curtseyed

and presented her little packet; on receipt whereof Miss Monflathers

commanded that the line should halt.

'You're the wax-work child, are you not?' said Miss Monflathers.

'Yes, ma'am,' replied Nell, colouring deeply, for the young ladies had

collected about her, and she was the centre on which all eyes were

fixed.

'And don't you think you must be a very wicked little child,' said Miss

Monflathers, who was of rather uncertain temper, and lost no

opportunity of impressing moral truths upon the tender minds of the

young ladies, 'to be a wax-work child at all?'

Poor Nell had never viewed her position in this light, and not knowing

what to say, remained silent, blushing more deeply than before.

'Don't you know,' said Miss Monflathers, 'that it's very naughty and

unfeminine, and a perversion of the properties wisely and benignantly

transmitted to us, with expansive powers to be roused from their

dormant state through the medium of cultivation?'

The two teachers murmured their respectful approval of this

home-thrust, and looked at Nell as though they would have said that

there indeed Miss Monflathers had hit her very hard. Then they smiled

and glanced at Miss Monflathers, and then, their eyes meeting, they

exchanged looks which plainly said that each considered herself smiler

in ordinary to Miss Monflathers, and regarded the other as having no

right to smile, and that her so doing was an act of presumption and

impertinence.

'Don't you feel how naughty it is of you,' resumed Miss Monflathers,

'to be a wax-work child, when you might have the proud consciousness of

assisting, to the extent of your infant powers, the manufactures of

your country; of improving your mind by the constant contemplation of

the steam-engine; and of earning a comfortable and independent

subsistence of from two-and-ninepence to three shillings per week?

Don't you know that the harder you are at work, the happier you are?'

'"How doth the little--"' murmured one of the teachers, in quotation

from Doctor Watts.

'Eh?' said Miss Monflathers, turning smartly round. 'Who said that?'

Of course the teacher who had not said it, indicated the rival who had,

whom Miss Monflathers frowningly requested to hold her peace; by that

means throwing the informing teacher into raptures of joy.

'The little busy bee,' said Miss Monflathers, drawing herself up, 'is

applicable only to genteel children.

"In books, or work, or healthful play"

is quite right as far as they are concerned; and the work means

painting on velvet, fancy needle-work, or embroidery. In such cases as

these,' pointing to Nell, with her parasol, 'and in the case of all

poor people's children, we should read it thus:

"In work, work, work. In work alway

Let my first years be past,

That I may give for ev'ry day