By nine o'clock in the morning of the day succeeding that of his
dinner-party at Norwood, Mr Richard Pellet, eager and anxious, was in
Borton Street. He would have been there hours before, but Mrs Richard
Pellet had been suffering from over-excitement, which was her way of
describing a sharp fit of indigestion, brought on by over-indulgence in
the good things of the table. So Mrs Richard Pellet had been faint and
hysterical, and violently sick and prostrated. She had consumed nearly
a half-bottle of the best Cognac; the servants had been, like their
master, up nearly all night; and the consequence was, that about five
o'clock, Mr Richard Pellet had lain down for an hour, which in spite of
his anxiety extended itself to three. He awoke under the impression
that he had been asleep five minutes, when he smoothed himself, hurried
to the train, took a cab, and arrived at Borton Street two hours later
than he had intended.
If he could have made sure that, now she was gone, he would see no more
of Ellen Herrisey, he would have ceased from troubling himself in the
matter; but, as he would have expressed himself, in his position the
dread of any exposure was not to be borne.
It would never have done for his name--the name of Mr Richard Pellet--
known everywhere in the city; down, too, in so many lists amongst the
great philanthropists of the day, to be brought forward in such a
connection, and then to be dragged through the mud and laughed at by
those who had grudged his rise. Why! his name was held in honour by all
the great religious societies, whose secretaries invariably sent him
reports of their proceedings, and they did no more for what Richard
called the "nobs." So by nine the next morning he was at Borton Street,
hot, angry, undecided, and uncomfortable.
No doubt, he told himself, by putting the police upon her track, he
would be able to find her; but such a proceeding would involve
confidences, and partake to some extent of the nature of an exposure,
which he could not afford. No, it must be done quietly; so, with the
intention of having it done quietly, he gave a sneaky, diffident,
hang-dog rap at the door, as he glanced up and down the street to see if
he was observed--such a knock as might be given by a gipsy-looking
woman, with her wean slung at her back, and a bundle of clothes-pegs for
sale in her hand.
But Richard Pellet's humble no-notice-attracting knock had as little
effect inside the house as in the street at large, and, in spite of the
giver's fidgety manner and uneasy glances up and down, no one answered
the summons.
There was no help for it; so the early caller gave another rap at the
door--a single rap; for, from the effects of an ordinary double knock,
he saw in imagination a score of heads at the open doors and windows of
the densely-populated street, gazing at and looking down upon him as the
doctor and ordainer of strait-waistcoats for the woman said to be
insane, and kept so closely for years past in a room at Number 804.
Quite five minutes now elapsed without his venturing to knock again,
while he pretended to be absorbed in the contents of the newspaper he
held in his hand. But at last his position grew painful, for a small
boy bearing a big child came and sat himself upon the step, and looked
at him; then two more children came and cricked their necks as they
gazed up in his face, and a woman across the way also lent her
attention.
Richard Pellet was turning all over into a state of the most profuse
perspiration, and had his hand once more raised to the knocker, when he
heard a door open, apparently beneath his feet, and he started as a
shrill voice from the area shouted, "What is it?"
The important city man's perspiration from being cold now grew to be
hot; but he felt that it was no time for being indignant, as he looked
down from his height, moral and literal, upon a little old-faced
wrinkle-browed girl-of-all-work, almost a child, who was rubbing her
cheek with a match-box.
"Missus ain't down yet," she replied, in answer to Richard's
interrogations.
"I'll come in then and wait," said the city man, peering down through
the railings; but the girl shook her head.
"She said I wasn't to let no one in. There's so many tramps and beggars
about."
"There!" exclaimed Richard, impatiently, as he threw down a card. "Take
that up to her, and I'll wait here; or, no--give me that card back," he
said, for the thought struck him that it was impossible to say where
that card might go.
The girl tried to throw the card back, and succeeded in projecting it,
twice over, a couple of feet, to come fluttering down again, when she
caught it, and stood shaving and scraping the dirt off her cheek with
its edge, evidently finding it more grateful than the sandpaper of the
match-box.
"There! never mind," said Richard. "Go and tell her Mr Norwood is
here."
"Mr Norwood?" said the girl.
"Yes, Mr Norwood," exclaimed Richard, angrily; and the girl disappeared,
Richard employing himself the while in peering furtively about for
observers.
He had turned his back to the area, and was wondering whether the
potman, coming down the street, with what appeared to be a gigantic
bunch of pewter grapes upon his back, was intent upon his own affairs or
watching him, when he started, for a shrill "I say!" ascended from the
area, and looking round, he found the diminutive maid presenting him
with his card, which was stuck amongst the hairs of a long broom, whose
handle enabled the child to elevate the piece of pasteboard to within
its owner's reach.
"I thought I could do it," said the girl, laughing.
"Go--and--tell--your--mistress--Mister--Norwood--wants--her," hissed
Richard Pellet, savagely; as, with one action, he seized the card, and
shook his fist at the girl.
"Hadn't you better call again," said the imp, "and leave the paper? She
never pays fust time, and you ain't been before."
"Go--and--"
Richard Pellet got no further; for, alarmed at his fierce tones, his
auditor vanished as he began; there was a scuffle and a banging door,
and he was left alone, pending the delivery of his message.
Another five minutes elapsed, when the door-chain was taken down, the
key laboriously turned, and Richard Pellet was admitted by the
dirty-faced girl, and shown into the parlour, where, staring the whole
time, the child polished a chair for him with her apron, her nose upon
her arm; and then, wondering why the black-coated important visitor had
no rate-books sticking out of his pocket, she announced that "Missus"
would be down directly.
Fuming and frowning, Richard Pellet seated himself upon the rubbed
chair; but only to bound from it at the end of a minute, in a state of
nervous perturbation, caused by some urchin suddenly and furiously
rattling his hoop-stick along the area railings. But Richard Pellet was
somewhat unstrung; he had been drinking during the night of wakefulness
more than was good for him, to allay the annoyance and harass to which
he had been subjected, and now the potent spirit was reminding him of
the transgression.
But as he once more seated himself, he determined, upon one thing, and
that was, should he obtain a clue by whose means he could trace and
overtake Ellen, he would not leave her again until he had seen her
safely back with Mrs Walls.
"I'll make all fast, so that I shall know that she is safely at home for
at least two years; for once there again, I know she will be tame and
quiet as--Curse her, though! why did she play me such a trick as this?
She must be after the child. I wish it was--"
Richard Pellet did not finish his sentence, but started up, and stood
staring at the figure which now entered the room.
"Why--why"--he stammered; "I thought you had gone off."
"Gone!" said Ellen, with a weary smile,--"gone! no, no; I only went to
see her little face once more, and she was not there. You had taken her
away, and I came back, Richard, for I knew you would be angry; and I
said that perhaps you would forgive me, and let me see her again, and
tell me where she is. Only once, Richard! only once--just for a
minute!" and the clasped hands went up towards him once more in
supplication.
But a worldly feeling was strong upon Richard Pellet; in that hour his
spirits rose, and he felt elate, for the danger was past, and knowing
full well this woman's truthful candid nature, he knew that it was as
she said. She had been to the house, and then returned; and there was
no exposure now--nothing to fear, and his heart grew hard as flint as he
sneeringly said--
"You are confoundedly obedient all at once," and then, with a half
laugh, "why didn't you stay away altogether?"
"Obedient, Richard!" she sobbed; "was I not always your slave? did I not
always do as you wished? and now, but this one little request--this one
prayer--"
She paused, for her gaoler entered the room.
"Ho!" said the woman, "you know all about it by this time, I suppose. I
found her back again when I got home. Perhaps you'd better"--Here she
whispered.
Richard Pellet's hand went reluctantly into his pocket, for though he
was generosity's self with his money when he could see returning
interest--or at least show--in other matters, he grudged every shilling
he spent; but the woman's demand was satisfied, and she left the room,
taking with her Ellen, while upon her return in a few minutes without
her charge, fresh arrangements were made, and the bars of Ellen
Herrisey's prison grew closer than ever.
Volume 1, Chapter XXIX.