BIRDS OF PREY.
In the neat little parlor, with flowering plants in the window, its
walls adorned with old-time Scripture prints and modern play-bills in
droll blending, back of the shop-room for stationery, at Bayswater, on
an evening late in October, sits Silas Jones, listless, and, with idle
hands, apparently staring into vacancy, in reality wandering in busy
thought into dim prison-houses and private asylums at London, in search
of Sarah Kane, who, on his calling to see at Mrs. Mansfield's some weeks
ago, as arranged, was informed by a housekeeper in charge that her
mistress had gone south for the winter, and had told Mr. Stone some
months ago she would like Sarah Kane to go with her as companion. When
he sent her word she refused the offer, and that as to Mr. Stone
bringing her, neither of them had been near the place.
On this, Silas Jones had racked his brain to discover her, advertising
time and again; sure of foul play. One day he thought of seeing what the
detectives could do, another of consulting a lawyer; he had, though
knowing it would be useless, gone to Broadlawns, and interviewed Mr.
Stone, who had answered carelessly:
"I never even try to keep track of servants we discharge. Why of Sarah
Kane, who was a viper on our hands?"
"As to that, Mr. Stone, I shall not allow you to blacken the best woman
in God's world. She went with you to London; where is she now?"
"I tell you again I don't know, even whether she be alive or dead, and
if you come about Broadlawns again, I shall have you up for trespass. An
Englishman's house is his castle, sir."
"Oh, Silas Jones, Silas Jones, she has grown tired of you," said Mrs.
Cole, vengefully. "We found her in Mr. Cole's bedroom at midnight. What
can an old man like you expect?"
"I don't mind your wicked words, they can't hurt Sarah; it's your deeds;
and I implore you, if you have any of the woman nature in you, tell me
where I can find her."
"And I answer, as Mr. Stone did, I never bother myself as to the
whereabouts of discharged servants, so consider yourself dismissed," she
said, calling Simon.
"Yes, ma'am."
"Open the door for Silas Jones, bookseller, Bayswater." And so had he
been answered in harsh, unfeeling tones, as almost broken-hearted he had
wended his lonely way mechanically back to the little parlor.
It is well he has sold out his business to the young man Mary has
married, for he cannot give his mind to anything other than the loss of
the one woman, in his simple loyalty, he has ever loved, and of how
again to find her.
"Silas," said his sister, "I just now asked Dr. MacNeil, as he came up
the street, how poor Mr. Cole is, and he says he is in for a bad attack
of that nasty rheumatic fever; just think, brother, of him only out of
brain fever and into this; it's out and out too bad."
"Does he ask for Sarah, still?"
"Yes; doctor says it's most pitiful to hear him; and he (doctor) says,
but it's 'cause he doesn't know the truth, that, of course, they are not
to be blamed for the not bringing her, since she be so bad."
"Sister, I can't stand this suspense and trouble any longer; it's
killing me. If it costs me every penny I have in the world, I _must_
find my Sarah. I shall go into the city to-morrow, and put the
detectives to work."
At this juncture the shop door was hurriedly thrown open, when Sarah
Kane, cold, pale, and trembling, followed by the driver of a hansom,
came in quickly into their midst.
"Now, Missis, you'll be as good as your word, I 'ope, and gim me my
fare."
But she is in the close embrace of Silas, while Mary pays, dismisses
him, and locks the front door, her husband being in the great city.
"Silas, it's my belief you are demented; let our Sarah go. I want to
hear where the old de'il took her to, and how she comes in like this,
with no bonnet or shawl, and her hair blown about like that. There,
that's more like it," she said, kissing Sarah, as Silas, not speaking a
word, only keeping his gaze fixed on Sarah's face, leads her to a chair,
when, dropping on his knees, says earnestly,
"Thank God; thank God."
Now seating himself beside her, and holding her hand in his, Sarah says,
her lips quivering:
"Yes, God be thanked, I am at home, home! Oh dears, you will never know
the sweetness of home as I do, after the awful life I have had since I
last saw your dear faces; and only that I ran away, leastwise, bribed
the boy with my watch and chain--"
"You did!" cried Mary, in astonishment.
"Freedom is sweeter than jewels, Mary dear; but I must begin at the
beginning. Yes, Silas, the tea has warmed me; I must tell you all now.
You know how suspicious the people at Broadlawns are? Well, you can
imagine the scene I went through when, running back from you that early
morn, I found them waiting for me; they had got into my room with
another key; they called me all the foul names in the spelling-books in
England, I do believe. My heart, but it was fearful; and poor Mr. Cole
calling me, and they not letting me near him; but I can't go on till I
hear of him. How is he, and was it brain fever?"
"Yes, Sarah," said Mary, hurriedly, "and he could not bear Mrs. Cole
near him; raving more even when out of his head, if she was in the
room."
"Poor, poor young gentleman, and how is he now?"
"Well, he's just out, like, of brain fever, and into rheumatism."
"Dear, dear!" she said, in troubled tones; "Silas, I feel, dear, that I
must endeavor to bring some speck of comfort into his life, for I blame
myself now for not long ago going and talking it over with Dr. Annesley;
will you come up to the city with me, to-morrow, and try to see him?"
"Anywhere, so I am with you; for I do believe, Sarah, I shall never be
brave enough to lose sight Of your dear face again," he said, tenderly,
still holding her hand.
"And, now, go on Sarah, and tell us where that old sneak thief took you
to," said Mary, curiously.
"Yes, I must. Mr. Stone bid me only take my Gladstone bag, for he was
not going to spoil the phaeton with my trunks. So, merely putting in a
few necessary articles, thinking, as you remember, to be back in a day
or two; well, we drove into town; but not in the direction, as I
remembered, of Mrs. Mansfield's; we went a long, long way east; and when
I wondered, he answered, shortly, that he had business that required
immediate attention, first; well, on we drove into streets and
localities unknown to me. At last, after a two hours' drive, we stopped
at the end house in a terrace; it was a gloomy street, though some of
the houses were well-looking enough. In one of the windows of the house
at which we stopped, was a card, 'Lodgings for single gentlemen;' but
that was a blind, Silas, to cover the real state of affairs."
On Mr. Stone knocking, a bolt and chain were drawn and unfastened, and a
big, strong, coarse-looking boy, large mouthed, and with cross eyes,
opened the door.
"'Is your master in?' inquired Mr. Stone. 'Yes, sir.' 'Come in, Sarah
Kane,' said the wicked master of Broadlawns. 'I have a good deal to say
here, and you may as well come in doors, after your early morning walk'
(that was here, you know, Silas) 'and your visit to a gentleman's
bedroom last night.' It might have been Mrs. Cole; he spoke in such
cold, hard tones.
"We were shown into the front room first flat; the room with the notice
in the window; it was extremely dirty and untidy; with a single bed in
one corner; and what furniture there was looked like odds and ends
picked up at sales; three chairs, one of brown leather, the others faded
red and blue rep. On a table were pipes, tobacco, burnt matches, ale
mugs, and cards, with copies of _Bell's Life_, in different stages of
dirtiness; the room was littered with a man's clothing, and altogether
unsavory. I was reluctant to enter, and stood on the door-mat.
"'Just go in ma'am; here's the master,' said the boy grinning.
"If the room was unsavory, the man was. Oh, Mary, if you saw him," she
said, shudderingly; "he looked like a bully or prize fighter; a
heavily-built man, short of stature, with bull-dog head and face; he
wore no coat, and his shirt was unclean."
"Well, Lang, how are you getting along?"
"Do you mean as to funds, Mr. Stone; are you going to say the word,
'forego the back rents, take that lump sum for the house, and cry quits,
that's the question?'" he said, with a wink. "Come in, Missis; I'm quite
a dude, you see; but ladies don't mind that."
"I prefer to wait for Mr. Stone, out in the phaeton," I said, with latent
disgust.
"Here they exchanged what I now know was a meaning glance, Mr. Stone
saying, 'Sarah Kane is a most particular young woman, as you shall hear,
Lang; come this way, Sarah.'
"I protested that I preferred waiting outside, to no purpose. 'This way,
Sarah Kane,' 'Yes, this way, Missis,' they said, one going before and
one behind me up a stairway, covered with a common carpet, but thickly
padded; there were five doors opening into a square hall; all doors
shut. Turning the handle of one, Mr. Stone said, smiling grimly,
'Another lodger.' 'Yes; he's out airing; you bet, they keep me busy,' he
answered, with another of his odious winks, saying, 'Here, Missis, just
step in 'ere while the Squire and me square accounts;' this time he
winked at me; and I began to think it a mechanical way he had of winding
up a remark."
"Nasty beast," said Mary.
"I was no sooner in, than the key was turned, and I knew myself a
prisoner; I called, hammered on the door, did every conceivable thing to
make a noise; finally I sat down on the one greasy chair of green rep,
and cried as if my heart would break. I thought of you, Silas, and you
too, Mary, of poor Mr. Cole; and hope vanished, knowing by whom I had
been trapped. From time to time I could hear a murmur of voices; then
Mr. Stone's unmusical laugh; and the unfastening and fastening of the
door. Then I gave myself up to despair; I could make no sign to the
outside busy London world, for my small room was only lit from the hall
by a curious window, up near the ceiling. A single bed, wash-stand, and
tiny looking glass, hanging to the wall, too small and cracked to be of
any use; every article being stale and dirty. Mr. Lang brought me a cup
of tea, and some bread and cheese, telling me to make myself at home;
and 'that even though I was in a single gentleman's house, no matter,'
with another odious wink; 'that Mr. Stone had told him I would not be
sorry there were no ladies,' etc.; but to make a long story short, Silas
and Mary, the people at Broadlawns imprisoned me to get me out of the
way, so I should not speak of this fraud of a marriage."
"That's it, my poor Sarah."
"Days passed into weeks; and had it not been for my pocket Bible, the
Pickwick papers, and a long strip of muslin embroidery and housewife I
had put in my bag, I don't know what would have become of me; I tried to
keep calm, if only to devise a scheme of escape. One day was much the
same as another, Mr. Lang trying in many ways to get private information
of Broadlawns, telling me, to raise my wrath, that Mr. Stone had told
him I was demented, and nothing I said was reliable; but I could not
trust such a man, so left him no wiser. Every day, for fifteen minutes,
I was compelled to go up two flights of stairs to a room with an open
skylight, and where I was made, willingly though, to walk up and down;
sometimes Lang, sometimes another man, whom I loathed even worse, or the
cross-eyed boy, accompanying me as jailer; this they called a pleasure
airing. Yesterday, growing desperate, I offered my watch and chain to
the cross-eyed boy, to liberate me. He listened, eyeing them greedily,
saying to my delight,
"'Well, I'll try, Missis; for I'm a bit tired of airing of you and the
three men, and a doing of other chores.' 'Are there three other
prisoners beside myself,' I cried. 'Oh, no, ma'am; they be just a
lodging 'ere on the quiet, loike you be.' 'You will free me, then, and
gain my watch and chain; see how pretty it is, and pure gold.' 'Yes, the
first chance I gets; but ye're not lying; ye'll give it all square?'
"But to hasten, for I feel tired and weak, though oh! so much better in
mind; the middle man gave me my airing to-day, to whom I never spoke,
though he laughed and jeered at me continually. I worried myself by
thinking that, perhaps, the boy was only a spy, when this evening, after
Mr. Lang had brought me my tea, and I was again locked in, to my joy, in
a few minutes, the key turned, and the boy said, hurriedly, 'Come along,
Missis; don't wait to take nothing; master's out, and Bill's run to the
gin-palace, telling of me to keep guard.' Even as he spoke, we were
downstairs, the bolt and chain undone, and, thank God, with the free air
of heaven about us. 'Give us your 'and, Missis, ye're goin' the wrong
way;' and on we sped with flying feet. 'Good-bye, Missis; now for the
timer. It's a dandy,' he said, pocketing it; 'there's a 'ansum; you'd
better take it, you are out of breath;' and with a shrill whistle, the
man stopped; when the boy flew, and I took the hansom; and here I am
home at last, thank God."
"What wretches!" cried Mary.
"You leave me no more, Sarah; you are evermore _my_ care; go to bed now,
dear, and rest, for we will go up to London to-morrow, to ask Dr.
Annesley's advice. I shall go now to Broadlawns for your trunks; good
night. Oh, how light my heart is now I have found you again, Sarah," he
said, tenderly kissing her.
"We will be an old couple, Silas, dear," she said, quietly; "do you
know, to-morrow will be our joint birthday; this is the eve of All
Saints."
"Yes; and we shall be married to-morrow, when we are in the city; age
doesn't count; our hearts are young, Sarah."
"Yes, Silas; I feel so happy I could sing,
"'Now we maun totter doon, John;
But hand in hand we'll go;
And we'll sleep thegither at the foot,
John Anderson, my jo.'"
"Our lives have been ever hand in hand, Sarah, for we exchanged hearts
long, long ago; but here is George; I shall go now with an easy mind,
for he will guard you safely; good night."
"I have only time, to-night, to wish you joy, George, for I require
rest," she said, going upstairs.
"Well, this is good," he said, rubbing his hands; "but, good night,
sister, that is to be; my little wife here has her mouth open to give me
your story."
When Silas Jones, with the light waggon, drove up the carriage drive to
Broadlawns, the family were at supper; so Simon, glad of the chance, got
the trunks down and into the waggon, without words; but as Silas Jones
was thanking him for his assistance; telling him of Sarah Kane's escape,
and inquiring for Mr. Cole, Mr. Stone, leaving the dining-room,
encountered him, when he said,
"I am taking Sarah Kane's trunks away, Mr. Stone."
"And who has authorized you to do anything in the matter?" he inquired,
haughtily.
"My future wife, Sarah Kane."
For once, he was nonplussed; when Miss Stone, passing through the hall,
said, stiffly:
"I am sorry I cannot congratulate you, Mr. Jones, on winning a Christian
woman."
"What can it mean," thought Mrs. Cole; "she is in tight keeping; safe
enough." As a feeler, she says,
"You must have the faith of Abraham to trust her still; someone said she
is living with a bachelor at London."
"Mrs. Cole, let me tell you there is such a thing as British justice,
which we mean to have, when you shall eat your words in a court of law,"
he said, indignantly turning on his heel, and out into the night.
Simon, at his post in the sick room, told the good news of Sarah Kane's
escape.
Turning suddenly, in his eagerness to face Simon, and hear more, the
sufferer groaned in rheumatic pain.
"Can you not manage to bring her to see me, when _they_ are _all_ out;
the once you did bring Mr. Jones, he said, when he found Sarah, they
would go out to New York or Canada; I particularly wish to see them.
Jove! the pain; the liniment, Simon; rub me, please, and close the door;
if I could only escape, like Sarah; you will do what you can, I beg of
you, to bring them to see me?"
"I will, sir, if I loses my situation by it."
Below stairs the birds of prey held council with closed doors.
"What the devil did that man Jones mean by daring to throw threats in
our faces, Margaret?" said Stone, with seeming bravado, though, in
reality, in dismay.
"Impudent bluster, perhaps, but I shall put my ears to their proper
use," and slipping off her shoes, she crept noiselessly up to the door
of the gloomy east chamber, which had been closed so they could talk
privately, thus playing into the ear of the enemy.
"Well," said her uncle grimly, as she returned. "Well?" she answered, in
the same tones, her eagle nose more prominent, her awful eyes more stony
than ever. "She has escaped! and is even now at the bookseller's."
"The devil!"
"You may well say so. Thomas Lang has sold you. Simon does not know
particulars, for our friend Cole was earnest in inquiries."
"Is it too late to go into the city now?" he said nervously.
"Yes, and you are too cowardly to face 'ills you know not of' alone. Let
me see; the lower class are awed by pomp and show. We will drive into
Windsor Terrace in the morning in the carriage and pair. If Lang has
sold you, you must buy him, by letting him have the house at his own
figure. Again, should she have escaped without his connivance, be
prepared by selling everything you can. You, as guardian to my sweet
step-sister, have unlimited powers until our pet is of age, which
interesting event, they don't seem to know, has taken place. Rake in all
the gold you can, uncle, as the United States looks inviting at present;
to-morrow will be a busy day, Aunt Elizabeth, so you might tell cook to
have breakfast an hour earlier. Good night."
As she left the room, her uncle said:
"She is every inch a Stone, Elizabeth, and not a bit like her
chicken-hearted father."
"That's true, Timothy, but she grows plainer every day, and looks nearly
as old as I do."
"Yes, she is no Hebe; but had the blooming goddess been possessed of her
wits, she would have blind-folded Jupiter."