"Mr Pellet, sir," said Tim Ruggles, "I ran out of Mr Purkis's shop, sir,
like a madman. Yesterday, sir, I think it was: no, it wasn't, it was
the day before, or some other time, I don't know when, for my head's all
in a wuzzle, sir, and I hardly know what's what. But I ran out of his
shop, sir, after he had whispered two words in my ear, and them two
words, sir, were--`Mrs Ruggles.'"
"There!" interrupted Mrs Pellet; "that's all a part of the past now, so
let it be forgotten. But sit down."
"Yes, ma'am," said Tim, standing in his old position by the
chimney-piece; "it's all a part of the past, but if you'll let me set
myself right with your family, I shall be glad."
"Right! set yourself right! why, you are right," said Jared, warmly.
"You don't suppose we ever thought that you knew?"
"No, sir," said Tim, still standing; "perhaps not, sir; but I should
like to tell you all about it, sir. It will ease my mind, like, so let
me be obstinate for once in a way. You see, sir, I was stunned like
that morning, and hardly knew what to make of things. Your good lady
had partly told me the misfortune, as you may recollect, perhaps, when
you came and stopped her, sir--when I rushed off to Mr Purkis's; and
then, after a long talk with him, feeling worse than ever, I ran all the
way to Carnaby Street, sending the people right and left, sir, for I
wouldn't believe it true; and being a married man, sir, which makes two
one, it seemed to me that I was in it, and had been the cause of it all,
and ungrateful to you, as is the best friend I ever had. No, sir, I
wouldn't believe, though young Ichabod Gunnis had told me, and Mrs
Pellet had quietly said the same, and then beadle Purkis; but when I
rushed up into my room in Carnaby Street--first-floor back, first bell,
two pulls--I knew it was all true then, for there was a letter on the
table, as I afterwards found was written to Mrs Ruggles' relations to
say she was coming. And there she was, sir, trembling in the middle of
the room, dressed and ready to go, sir; Sunday things on, and three or
four big bundles about, with all the best of everything we had got
packed up; and there was the four teaspoons, and my first wife's brooch.
When I saw all this, I recollected as there was a cab standing at the
door when I came in; and then, without her dropping the bundle she was
a-tying up, and busting out a-cryin', I knew it all in a moment, that it
was all true as true, and that she was going off that morning with
everything she could lay her hands on, even to my poor wife's silk
dress, only I came back just in time to stop her."
Tim Ruggles covered his face with his hands for a moment, and then went
on.
"I'm only little, sir, and poor and weak, and I don't know whether I
feel the same as other people do, sir, when they are in trouble; but I
couldn't be in a violent rage, and storm and swear and abuse her, sir
and ma'am"--and, probably due to the fact of Tim's head being all in a
"wuzzle," he looked at Mrs Jared when he said "sir," and at Jared
himself when he said "ma'am;"--"No, I couldn't do it, sir; for there was
a strange sort of feeling came over me of our having broken the same
bread together for years, she being my wife, and this seemed to stop me;
though the nearest point I come to was--but I'm getting wuzzled. I
wasn't frightened, sir, not a bit: I was hurt, and cut, and sore, to
think that a honest man's wife should have done such a crime; and then
made it ten times worse by getting you suspected, because she had a
spite against you and Mrs Pellet here, sir, for taking so much notice of
my poor Pine, and saying that she was not properly used, for I once let
it out that you had said so. Partly that, and partly, you know, because
it would clear her; for there was a deal of notice being taken of it all
then, so she put the little key in your music-box, sir.
"Put the little key in your music-box, sir," continued Tim; "it's all
true, sir, for she went down upon her knees, sir, and confessed to it
all; and how she had had pounds and pounds, and that you caught her that
night in the dark, when she had gone to put back a half-crown or two
that was marked, and she was afraid it was found out then; but it was a
letter from the vicar which settled it all. And oh! sir, if I had only
known of all this, I'd never have asked you to speak up for her to be
pew-opener. Yes, sir, it was a letter from the vicar had done it all,
telling her never to go near the church again, and giving her what we
poor journeymen tailors call the bullet.
"Oh! I was cut, sir, after all you had done for us, sir, and the
customer you had been to me, for it never seemed like coming out to work
a day here, sir; I was always at home, and treated like a friend; and
what with the thoughts of that, and the kind way you had noticed little
Pine, and the cruel manner she had treated that poor little dead angel,
I worked myself up at last, sir, and I actually said and wished then,
that the vicar had not promised that he wouldn't prosecute her; for she
deserved it, sir, if ever a woman did. Yes, sir, I was worked up, and
in my rage, I seized the iron, sir, and she shrieked out, and though it
was only cold, I thought it wouldn't be manly to hit her with that, so I
put it down, and caught up the sleeve-board, and stood over her with it,
quite furious, while she told all, and begged for mercy over and over
again. And then, sir, I was that mad that I stamped about the room, and
she was frightened of me, hard a woman as she was.
"`Mind my eyes--mind my eyes!' she kept on cryin', as I stood over her,
and made her own to all her treachery; while at times, sir, I didn't
know whether to be mad or to cry with shame, sir; and to hear her
telling all, and then to think of her black-heartedness after it was all
found out--going to rob me, sir, and taking even my poor wife's brooch.
It was cruel--cruel--cruel!
"But then," continued Tim, "I held up, sir, though I could have broken
down a score of times, and I spurred myself on by thinking of the way
she used to treat poor little Pine, till, seeing me flourish the
sleeve-board about in that mad way, sir, the wicked creature was
frightened for her life, and, jumping up, and giving me a push, she
darted out of the room, and before I got over my surprise, sir, she was
gone. And perhaps it was best, sir, or in my rage I might so far have
forgotten myself as to have struck her, when, you know, sir, I should
never after have forgiven myself--never, so sure as my name is Tim
Ruggles."
"It's very sad," said Mrs Jared, for Tim had paused; "but, of course,
after the fright is over, she will come back."
"Never, ma'am, never," said Tim. "She has opened a gulf between us,
ma'am, that there would be no bridging over--authority for saying so.
I'm now, ma'am, what I ought always to have been since my poor wife was
taken from me--a widower, and I mean to keep so. No, ma'am, I'm not
sorry she's gone; for though a wonderful woman, ma'am, a most
strong-minded woman, ma'am, she was not happy in her ways; and since she
has left me, I've been thinking things over, and seeing them a little
clearer than I used to, and I'm afraid I didn't do my duty by some one
who is passed away and gone. But I'm sorry, sir and ma'am, and what
more can I say? being only a weak man, and thinking I was doing all for
the best; though I don't mind saying to you, sir, that what some one
else said was quite right: Mrs Ruggles did marry me. But it's all over
now, sir: she has gone, and I didn't strike her, sir; for I never should
have forgiven myself if I'd struck a woman, bad as she might be."
"Well," said Jared, kindly; "and now suppose we say, let all this be
forgotten, and sit down."
"No, sir, not yet," said Tim, "not yet. I'm not done, sir, I've
something else to tell you, but perhaps it would be best that Miss Patty
should not stay, and you can tell her yourselves afterwards."
Patty rose and left the room.
"You see," said Tim, "I had a visit only yesterday from a decent-looking
lady who came with a little quiet knock; and at first I thought she was
making a mistake and had come to the wrong room. But no, she knew me
well enough, though I did not remember her pale worn face for a minute,
until I knew her all at once as little Pine's mother, when, ma'am, I
could have run away if I'd had a chance. It did seem so hard to tell
her, when she came almost in a threatening way like to ask me for her
child, and when I told her it was dead and gone, it was heartbreaking to
see how she took on, and said I'd killed it at first; but the next
moment she turned wild and strange, and said the child was not dead, but
that I had joined with Mr Richard Pellet to keep her little one from
her. And then I was quite frightened, for she told me she was mad, and
that she was Mrs Richard Pellet, and that little Pine was her own dear
child; and what with wondering whether what she said was true, and
puzzling how it could be that my darling was yours too, I got wuzzled;
but I told her all I could, and begged of her to listen, but the poor
thing seemed quite frantic with her sorrow, and I had to let her go,
believing me a cheat and a liar, and that I had been cruel to poor
little Pine.
"But there," said Tim, after a pause, "I could only pity her, poor
thing, and hope that Time would make all things come right, as I hope he
will, sir. But he seems a terrible long while about it, and I'm afraid
it won't be in my day; at least I can't seem to see it."
Then Tim found out that he must go, and he hurried away as if not a
moment were to be lost, satisfied now, he said, that he had set himself
right, while Jared and his wife stood together thoughtful and silent,
the latter with tears in her eyes reproaching herself for not seeing
through the mystery sooner.
"For, O Jared!" she said, "if we had only had the poor little thing
here, who can tell but its life might have been saved!"
Volume 3, Chapter XXII.