SOPHY'S TALE.
"You remember that night, I can never forget it, when you refused to
go with me to the entertainment, as I had tempted you to do? When you
closed your mistress's door, and I found myself alone in the street,
oh! How angry I felt, how I vowed to make you repent having dared to
think of your duty instead of my pleasure and your own! I hastily
joined my other companions, and we went together to the conjuror's
show. We were very merry, I remember, we were full of joking and
nonsense; only my father—he too was there—looked more fidgety and
uneasy than I had ever seen him before. I thought that maybe he was not
well; I did not guess what cause he had to be restless. Presently my
father rose from his seat,—we were closely packed on the benches, and
I was sitting beside him. He muttered something about the heat; and
indeed what with the gas and the crowding, I didn't wonder if he felt a
bit faint. He pushed his way out as well as he could, and as I looked
after him I caught sight, just at the door, of a man who'd come from
London, and who had had business with my father, what business I could
not tell, but you know it all came out at the trial. He'd led my poor
father into the trouble which, which—" The convict's daughter could not
finish the sentence, a hot flush overspread her face, and Norah felt
almost as uncomfortable as if the shame had been her own.
"I believe," continued Sophy, "that that man had made some sign to my
father that the police were on the scent, and that was the reason why
he left the place in such haste. You know," she lowered her voice,
"that my poor father was taken up that night, and I never saw him
again!"
"And you?" asked Norah, anxious to break the painful pause which
followed.
"I went home when all was over, quite merry and jolly, to the lodging
where you know that we used to live, my father and I; for though I
worked for Miss Cobb, I never slept at her house. I went to sleep
as light-hearted as could be, never dreaming what a terrible waking
was a-coming. Wasn't I startled and frightened when Mrs. Smith—she
was our landlady you know—burst suddenly into my little room in
the morning, all full of excitement, and talking so loud and fast,
that I could hardly make out her meaning at first. 'Twas a shameful
thing, she cried, a disgraceful thing, that a respectable house like
hers should be a harbour for thieves and forgers; the like had never
happened afore, and she'd take precious care, she would, that it
never should happen again. To think of the police a-coming to her
door, and searching for false money on her premises! She bade me get
up and dress, as she might have spoken to a dog, and set me all in a
tremble by what she told me had happened to my father. Then there was
a search—oh, dear! oh, dear!" Sophy shuddered at the recollection; "my
boxes turned inside out, and the drawers—"
"But there was nothing against you?" interrupted Norah.
"Not bad money, but—but—lots of scraps of silk that I had cribbed from
Miss Cobb; I always took such trifles as I could lay hands on, bits of
gimp, and ribbon, and lace, and there were two pocket handkerchiefs of
Mrs. Smith's—oh! wasn't she in a rage when she saw them; she called me
such names—I can't repeat them—and threatened to give me over to the
police!"
"How dreadful, how very dreadful!" exclaimed Norah, remembering with
shame and remorse the time when she herself had hardly thought it wrong
to take such trifles as she hoped would never be missed.
"I wonder I didn't go mad!" cried Sophy; "I think I was almost crazy,
Mrs. Smith frightened me so! I didn't know what to do, or where to go,
when I was left at last to myself. My father he was in prison; I'd not
another relation in the town who could help me. I dared not go to Miss
Cobb's, after what had been found in my box, I'd rather have died than
go there! And I could not stay where I was, Mrs. Smith had said plain
enough that she'd turn me out into the street!"
"Oh! Why did you not come to me?" cried Norah.
"As if your mistress would have let you have anything to do with—with
one like me!" exclaimed Sophy. "'No,' thinks I, as soon as I could
think at all, for my brain was whirling, 'I'll make a little bundle
of my clothes, and I'll be off afore the whole town is astir, I can't
bear to meet any faces I know!' So I made up my bundle, and crept down
the stairs, and I was glad—oh, so glad—not to meet Mrs. Smith on the
way. I opened the street-door and went out; I felt as if I were making
an escape, I hurried down the street as fast as I could walk; I met
none that I knew but the baker's boy, and I brushed past him without
speaking a word. It seemed as if I could not breathe freely till I'd
left the town behind, and got right out into the country."
"But where were you going?" asked Norah.
"I thought I would go to London. I knew that I had an aunt there in
service, who lived somewhere in Portman Square; I fancied that I might
find her out. Then I said to myself, 'how many make their fortunes
in London, why should not I have luck too? And then there are such
crowds of people in London, and they lead such bustling lives, that my
father's troubles won't be the talk of the place, as they are here in a
country town.'"
"But London is forty miles off!" cried Norah.
"I thought that I could walk the distance in two or three days," said
Sophy, "or perhaps sell some of my pretty things, and get a lift on the
way. It was a worry to me that I had no money; I had spent the last
half-sovereign which my father had given me on a pair of new ear-rings.
I walked on, and on, and on, passing one mile-stone after another,
sitting down sometimes to rest myself by the way-side, till I was both
hungry and tired. I had had no breakfast or dinner, you know. I stopped
at last at a village. 'Here they won't know me,' thought I. I went up
to a little inn; I'd opened my bundle and taken out something—I forget
what—that I thought to exchange for food. There were two men by the
door talking together, and they talked so loud that I could not help
catching my poor father's name. They were talking of the two who had
been taken up that morning for passing false coin, and were laughing
over the dodges by which they had tried to escape the police! Oh,"
cried Sophy, clenching her hands, "I could not bear to hear more of
that; I hurried out of the village as if the pavement burnt my feet!
And then a dreadful fear shot into my mind; I had twice bought things
with gold given to me by my father; I might have passed bad money
unawares, and the police might be hunting after me. I had no peace
after I thought of that danger! I was afraid of every man that I met,
lest he should be a policeman in disguise! So I went on till the sun
was beginning to set."
"Oh! Sophy," exclaimed Norah, "had you eaten nothing all that long
time?"
"There were blackberries on the hedges, and I drank from a brook that
I passed, but still I was very hungry and faint, and a chill drizzle
was beginning to fall; I had determined that when I got into any place
large enough to have a pawnbroker's shop in it, I'd sell or pledge my
ear-rings, and get food and shelter for the night. Just as dusk was
coming on, I got into a county town, and glad enough was I to see the
three gilt balls hanging over a shop. I walked in with as bold an air
as I could, but my knees were trembling under me, and I could not help
a burning flush of shame spreading over my face, I was so dreadfully
tired, you know. The pawnbroker looked hard at me, as he held the
ear-rings in his hand. 'Where did you get these?' said he. I thought
that he somehow knew me, and was going to give me up to justice. I was
beginning to stammer out something, when another customer came in in
a hurry, and took off his attention for a minute. Would you believe
it, Norah? as soon as the pawnbroker's head was turned, I took the
opportunity of slipping out of the shop, and hastening away as if for
my life!"
"What? leaving the ear-rings!" cried Norah.
"I scarcely knew what I was doing, there was such a dizziness in
my head, and such a ringing sound in my ears. I felt like a hunted
creature, sure that some one must be in pursuit. Now that the sun had
gone down," continued Sophy, "I grew more frightened than ever at the
thought of being out alone in the dark. I saw large iron gates wide
open, and a beautiful shrubbery beyond, surrounding a splendid white
house, that looked to me like a palace. There were many lights in the
windows, and I heard the gay sound of music from within. 'I'll go
and ask shelter there,' thought I, 'for the rain is coming on heavy,
and if I stay out on a wet night like this, I'll never live till the
morning.' So I crept in at the gate, and along the shrubbery drive; but
my heart failed me when I thought of going up to the large grand door,
up the flight of broad steps, that had an awning over them. I sat, or
rather sank down, under the shelter of a large laurel bush, and watched
carriage after carriage driving up, and bright, merry children getting
out, hurrying up the steps lest the rain should spoil their white
muslin dresses. I had such strange, strange thoughts, like dreams, as
I looked on the happy little creatures going into the palace, to the
light, and the warmth, and the music, and the joy, while I crouched
there, hungry, wet, and wretched, shut out from them all. The noise in
my ears grew louder, it dulled the sound of the music; my eyes were
heavy, my brain confused; I don't know whether I slept or fainted.
"I was roused by the sound of voices, kind voices, that spoke in a
pitying tone. 'Help me to raise the poor girl,' said a gentleman,
who, as I afterwards found, was the master of the grand house. I was
so cramped and stiff that I could not have walked a step had my life
depended upon it. The gentleman himself helped to lift me up, and
carry me gently into the house, for motion hurt me so that I could
not help crying out with the pain. I was taken to a nice warm room,
where I was put into a bed, and food and drink were brought. I had no
power to eat, but I drank with feverish thirst. I scarcely know what
happened after that. I believe that a doctor saw me, and felt my pulse,
and said that I was in for a long illness, and had better be taken to
a hospital at once. I know that I was removed there, and had every
comfort that I needed during a terrible attack of rheumatic fever. Oh,
Norah! What I suffered. But all the pain was not so bad as the dreadful
after-effects. My eyes, oh! My poor eyes. When I was dismissed from the
hospital as cured, though so weak that I scarcely could stand, where
was I, poor blind creature, to go? There was no place but the workhouse
for me. And here I am, for life, the most wretched being on earth, with
nothing to cheer me, nothing to hope for, either in this world, or the
next."