THE CLOUD IS LIFTED.
WHILST engaged in his weary search for employment, it occurred to
Reuben that Owen Grant, who knew so much about the ways of town, might
be able to help him, or at least give him advice as to the best way of
seeking a situation. It would not be agreeable to Reuben to confess to
Owen that he had lost his place at the factory, and was under suspicion
of dishonesty, but he was not one to forego any course of action simply
because it involved what was painful.
So subduing his reluctance, he went one evening to the draper's shop
he had before visited, and entering, looked round for Owen. But a girl
was now seated at the high desk receiving cash, and Owen was not to
be seen. The next minute the shop-walker advanced to inquire what his
business might be, and Reuben asked if he could speak to Owen Grant.
"He is not here," said the man, to Reuben's surprise; "he went away on
Saturday."
"Went away!" said Reuben. "Has he gone for a holiday, sir?"
"He has gone for good—or bad," was the curt rejoinder. "Perhaps he went
home, but I do not know. I can give you no information concerning him."
Reuben turned away very much surprised. He received no response to his
quiet "good evening," and he fancied that the shop-walker eyed him
suspiciously as he passed out of the shop.
"But why should he?" Reuben asked himself. "Perhaps it is only my
fancy. I am getting to expect that people should look doubtfully at me.
It is not likely that that man can know that I have been turned away
from the works."
Reuben wondered very much what could be the explanation of Owen's
having left the business where he had boasted that he was doing so
well. Could he have fallen into any trouble akin to that which he,
Reuben, was suffering? Reuben's sympathy went out towards him at the
very thought.
Two days later Reuben went again to the hospital to see Kate. He found
her greatly excited, but not on her own account. She had been shocked
and grieved by hearing of a terrible case that had been brought into
the ward that day. A man had been knocked down in the street by a cab,
and so injured that it was feared he could not live.
"And oh, Reuben," exclaimed Kate excitedly, "as they carried him past
this bed, I saw his face, and I am almost sure that I have seen him at
the works. I don't fancy he is one of the 'hands,' but I believe that
I have seen him there. Perhaps you would recognise him. Do try to get
a look at him before you go. His bed is in that corner, behind the
screen."
"But if he is so ill, he will not care to be looked at, perhaps," said
Reuben, shrinking rather from approaching the poor sufferer.
"Oh, he will not see you, he is unconscious. He was groaning terribly
last night, but they say he does not feel actual pain."
So Reuben moved gently towards the bed in the corner, and peeping round
the side of the screen, saw the face of the injured man, white and
still, turned towards him. The sight sent a strange thrill through him,
for there was something familiar in the grizzled hair, the thin lined
face, the scanty beard. It was the old man he had seen in the yard with
Savage on the fateful morning, which now hung dream-like in his memory,
though he was convinced of the reality of all he had seen and heard at
that early hour.
"Who is he?" whispered Kate eagerly, as he came back to her side. "You
know him; I can see you know him."
"I do not know his name," said Reuben, "but I believe he is a friend of
Mr. Savage's. I have seen him in the yard."
"So have I," exclaimed Kate eagerly; "I have seen him speaking to Nat
Savage. A horrid-looking old man, I thought him. But, poor fellow, one
can only pity him now."
"If you know anything of that patient, we should be glad to hear it,"
said the sister in charge of the ward, overhearing their words; "we
could find no trace of his identity, and no one seems to have made
inquiries concerning him. Who is he?"
"I cannot tell you," said Reuben "I only know that I've seen him in the
yard at Akenside's works, talking with the foreman."
"Who is the foreman? Cannot you let him know that this man is here?"
Reuben was silent. The suggestion seemed to cause him dismay.
"I don't work at Akenside's now," he said, after a pause.
"Well, what if you do not?" said the lady, not understanding; "you can
surely carry a message there. Do go at once! I fear the poor old man
cannot live long. Think what it is for him to lie there, alone and
friendless."
Still Reuben hesitated. He would rather she had asked him to walk
through fire, he thought, than to enter the work-yard from which he had
been so disgracefully dismissed.
"Do go, Reuben," said Kate gently; "I know how you feel, and that
Savage is the last man you wish to speak with, but do it for the sake
of the poor old man."
And Reuben went. He approached the works with the hope that he might
see some one about who would carry the message for him. But the hope
was disappointed. It was the middle of the afternoon, and every one was
busy. He saw no one at leisure to whom he dared entrust the message.
"Why, Reuben, lad, it's never you," said the old gate-keeper.
Reuben winced at the words, though the tone was kind.
"Yes, it's me, Samuel," Reuben replied; "I've come with a message to
Mr. Savage. Can you tell me where I shall find him?"
Samuel indicated the building in which he believed the foreman to be,
and then stood watching the lad with an air of amazement as he made his
way to it. It seemed to him an extraordinary thing that Reuben should
come there and ask for Mr. Savage of all persons. He only hoped that it
boded good, that something was in the wind that might restore Reuben
to his old place in Mr. Akenside's esteem. But he could not persuade
himself that such a thing was likely.
Savage was standing just within the workshop, talking in his usual loud
dictatorial tone, when Reuben approached.
Turning quickly and seeing Reuben beside him, he fairly started with
surprise. Then, annoyed at having betrayed himself thus, he turned
fiercely upon the young man.
"You here!" he exclaimed. "How dare you enter the yard, you rascal? You
ought to be in gaol by rights. It was mistaken kindness, in my opinion,
to let you go free, and now you have the audacity to show your face
here! Be off with you, or I'll give you in charge."
"I came here in order to speak with you, Mr. Savage," said Reuben
quietly, though his whole soul was aflame with indignation; "and let me
warn you to be careful what you say, for I have surely as much right to
be at large as you have. There is an old man at the hospital, seriously
injured, who I believe is a friend of yours—at least, I have seen him
with you more than once. No one there knows who he is, and they fear he
cannot live. They want you to go to the hospital and identify him."
Savage had changed colour whilst Reuben was speaking. He grew so white
that not Reuben alone observed it, but all the workpeople who were
near, listening curiously to what passed.
"What do you mean?" he asked defiantly. "What cock-and-bull story is
this? I know no man at the hospital."
"You know this man," said Reuben; "he is an old man with greyish hair
and a short grey beard. I tell you I have seen him with you more than
once. But you can do as you like about coming. I have told you."
"A pretty thing to tell me," cried Savage. "How am I to know what man
it is? But we know your talent for inventing stories, Reuben Roy."
The taunt was lost upon Reuben, who had turned hurriedly away, only
too anxious to leave the place. But ere he had gone many steps, he ran
against Mr. Akenside, who was as astonished to see him as Savage had
been.
"Reuben," he said sternly, "why are you here?"
Reuben flushed crimson, and for a moment he hung his head and could not
reply. But happily, he remembered that he had no true cause for shame,
and he lifted his eyes and looked Mr. Akenside full in the face as he
explained the errand on which he had come.
"Ah, I see," said the gentleman; "it was right of you to come. Is Mr.
Savage going at once to the hospital?"
"I think not," said Reuben. "He says he does not know the man."
"But how is that? You say you recognised him as one you had seen with
Savage."
"Mr. Akenside," said Reuben, speaking with difficulty, "you will not
believe me, I know, but I have always told you the truth. This man
at the hospital is the man I saw in the yard with Mr. Savage on that
morning when your goods were taken."
Mr. Akenside's face clouded. He looked puzzled, perplexed, embarrassed.
"I cannot understand it," he said coldly. "I had better come to the
hospital and see the man myself."
Reuben moved on and walked home to his lodging, feeling faint and
heart-sick. Every one was against him; no one would believe his word.
Savage was prosperous and elate; whilst he who had always acted
truthfully and honestly towards his master was cast off without a
character, to starve!
Poor Reuben! His spirit sank utterly within him when he reached his
lone attic. He could no longer fight against despair. There seemed
no help for him in heaven or on earth. Even God seemed afar off and
pitiless.
The depression which overcame him and made him cast himself in anguish
on his bed was to a great extent the result of physical causes. The
poor lad was half starved. For weeks he had been living on insufficient
food, whilst tramping about in search of work, or doing such chance
jobs as he could find. It was no wonder he broke down now. But the
suffering was sore, and Reuben never forgot it.
Happily it was the last dark hour before the dawn. It was late in the
day ere Mr. Akenside could get to the hospital. When he arrived, the
poor old man was near his end. With the approach of death, perfect
consciousness had returned to him. At the sight of Mr. Akenside, he
became greatly agitated. A guilty conscience made him believe his crime
already discovered, and a few questions from Mr. Akenside elicited a
full confession of the systematic robbery from the works, which, in
confederacy with Savage, he had been carrying on for years.
Mr. Akenside was inexpressibly shocked to discover how he had been
deceived by the servant in whom he had placed entire confidence. He
spoke seriously to the aged sinner, who had revealed this hidden evil
of his past, trying hard to bring him to a state of true penitence.
But who could say if there were genuine feeling in the few words of
contrition the sufferer uttered ere he passed away, or whether they
were merely the expression of a craven fear? There may be hope, but
there is no bright light at eventide about the death-bed of one whose
life has been spent in the service of sin.
On the following day, Nathaniel Savage was committed to prison to
await his trial, and Reuben's innocence of the crime imputed to him
was proclaimed in the hearing of every one at the works. For Savage's
accomplice had kept back nothing, but had explained how Savage, whilst
Reuben lay senseless in the yard, had, in order to remove suspicion
from themselves, stealthily entered the gatehouse, and creeping
noiselessly up the stairs, contrived to conceal some of the stolen
goods under Reuben's bed, and left a key lying about as further
evidence of his guilt.
Every one appeared glad to hear the news about Reuben, and no one,
except Mr. Akenside, seemed astounded by the fact of Savage's villainy,
for by many a wrong unjust act, the foreman had revealed to those under
his orders what kind of man he was.
Reuben did not at once return to his place at the works. Mr. Akenside
was grieved to find how much the lad had suffered. His pale, pinched
face told of his loss of strength. And Mr. Akenside kindly insisted
on his accepting a sum of money, which Reuben thought a far more
munificent compensation than he had any right to expect, and going home
for a long holiday ere he began work again.
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