|Perceiving that some one was with her husband, Mrs. Hartley was about
to beat an immediate retreat, but Hartley stopped her, and after a short
colloquy between the pair, the stonemason entered with his companion.
Mrs. Hartley had disappeared, but there was a light in the kitchen, into
which Walter Liddel was introduced.
The hospitable stonemason begged him to sit down, and, opening a
cupboard, took from it some cold meat and bread, which he set before
him, and bade him fall to.
Next proceeding to the scullery, Hartley drew a jug of beer. Walter
Liddel ate as voraciously as a famished wolf.
Leaving him to enjoy the first good meal he had made for some days,
Hartley went up-stairs, and his voice could be heard in consultation
with his wife.
Evidently, some little preparation for their unexpected guest had to be
made by the worthy couple, but it was completed before he had finished
his meal. He was still engaged when Hartley reappeared.
“Glad to see you getting on so well, Mr. Liddel,” observed the
stonemason. “It ain't often we've a spare bed, but it so happens that
our daughter Rose is away, so you can have her room.”
“Anywhere will do for me,” replied Walter, who by this time had devoured
all the meat and bread, and emptied the jug of beer.
“Come on, then,” said Hartley, taking up the candle, and signing to his
guest to follow him.
A short, narrow staircase brought them to a landing, whence two or three
doors opened, one of which admitted them to a small chamber, simply
but very neatly furnished. It breathed an atmosphere of purity and
innocence, with which Walter, exhausted as he was, could not help being
struck.
“There's your bed,” said Hartley, pointing to the neat little couch, the
patchwork quilt of which being turned down, revealed the snowy sheets.
“Thank you, my good friend; I couldn't wish for a better,” replied
Walter, squeezing the mason's horny hand. “Heaven bless you for your
kindness to me.”
“Don't disturb yourself too soon,” observed Hartley. “I'm not going out
early myself to-morrow. I'll call you. Good night.”
So saying, he retired, and closed the door after him.
As soon as he was alone, the penitent knelt down, and besought Heaven's
forgiveness for the sinful act he had attempted, and which had been so
fortunately frustrated. His contrition was sincere, and his resolution
to lead a better life heartfelt.
His prayers ended, he took off his attire, and, lying down in the little
couch in which innocence alone had hitherto reposed, almost instantly
fell asleep.
His slumbers were sound, and he had not stirred when Hartley had entered
the room on the morrow.
On opening his eyes, Walter could hardly make out where he was; but by
degrees the recollection of all that occurred returned to him.
“Don't think any more of last night,” said Hartley, noticing the pained
expression of his countenance. “It's nearly noon, but if you feel tired
I'll come again later on.”
“Nearly noon!” cried Walter, preparing to spring out of bed. “I ought to
have been up hours ago!”
Thereupon, Hartley retired, and his guest proceeded to make his toilette
with a care that showed he had not forsaken early habits.
While thus employed he could not help casting his eyes round the
chamber, and was more than ever struck by its extreme simplicity and
neatness. Everything seemed in its place. It appeared like a profanation
to invade such a temple of purity.
On going down-stairs, he found Mrs. Hartley, a middle-aged, matronly
woman, decently attired as became her station, and still comely.
It was too late for breakfast, and the cloth was spread for dinner. On
the table was a baked shoulder of mutton and potatoes.
Mrs. Hartley greeted him very kindly, and, with great good feeling and
good taste, made no allusion to the circumstances that had brought him
to the house, though she could not have been ignorant of them. But his
appearance prepossessed her in his favour.
“Don't say a word about being so late, sir,” she observed with a kindly
smile. “I'm glad to see you looking so well. You must be content to make
breakfast and dinner together to-day, sir.”
While Walter was making a suitable reply, Hartley came in, and seemed
quite surprised and delighted at his guest's improved appearance.
“A few hours' rest has done wonders with you, Mr. Liddel,” he said.
“This is my wife,” he added; “and I will say it to her face, that no man
could have a better.”
“A good husband makes a good wife, Joe, as I always tell you,” she
replied, smiling. “Pray sit down, sir,” she added, to Walter.
Both Hartley and his guest had good appetites, and a large hole was made
in the shoulder of mutton before they had finished their meal. Far from
begrudging Walter, Mrs. Hartley seemed pleased.
“Now, Mr. Liddel,” said Hartley, as he laid down his knife and fork, “I
must go to my work. The missis will take care of you till my return. We
may have company in the evening.”
“I must go and look after some employment,” said Walter.
“Time enough for that to-morrow,” rejoined the mason. “We'll have some
talk together on the subject to-night. Meantime, keep quiet.”
And the worthy fellow went about his business.
Mrs. Hartley showed her guest into the little parlour, and when she had
cleared away the things, joined him there, and they had a little chat
together; but whatever curiosity she felt, she restrained it.
Limited as was her knowledge of the world, she felt convinced that
Walter was a gentleman. She talked to him in a kindly, motherly tone,
that soon drew him out.
At last, after beating about the bush, she said, in a straightforward
way:
“You must excuse me, sir, if I take upon me to give you advice, but
don't you think you had better go back to your friends?”
“Never!” he replied. “I will never go back to them. If you knew all, you
would agree that I have been infamously treated! No, Mrs. Hartley, my
resolution is taken. I am down, but I will make my way up in the world.
To mount the ladder, one must begin at the lowest step.”
“I approve of your resolution, sir,” she rejoined, kindly; “and if you
are determined, you cannot fail of success. You have youth, strength,
good looks. I dare say, now,” she added, unable to repress her desire
to know something more of him, “I dare say you think you have been
wronged?”
“I have had great injustice done me,” he replied. “But you must not ask
me any questions, Mrs. Hartley. I shall never speak of what I have been,
unless----”
“You reinstate yourself,” she supplied.
“Exactly, And many years may elapse before I can do that.”
“Ah! you don't know,” she replied with an encouraging smile. “But you
must excuse me. I have got the house to attend to. You may like to see
the paper?”
Having spent some little time over the daily paper which she gave him,
Walter took up his hat, and went out.
Strolling leisurely along, he came to Lambeth Palace, and standing near
the pier at the foot of the bridge, he watched the boats arriving and
departing--landing passengers and carrying them away.
The lively scene served to amuse him. Among those who were embarking,
he noticed a tall, thin man, dressed in black, whose sharp features were
familiar to him.
The individual in question was only just in time, and as soon as he got
on board, the boat was cast off, and took its course towards the other
side of the river.
It had not gone far, when the tall, thin man, approaching the stern,
descried Walter, and almost started at the sight of him.
They remained gazing at each other as long as the steam-boat continued
in view, but no sign of recognition passed between them.
The sight of this person, whoever he might be, seemed to awaken a train
of painful reflections in Walter's breast.
He sat down on a bench on the little esplanade, and remained there for
some time contemplating the busy scene on the river.
By degrees he recovered his serenity, and it was in a more cheerful
frame of mind that he returned to the house in Spencer's Rents.