My life at Mr Blakeford's knew but little change. It was one regular
monotonous occupation--copy, copy, copy, from morning till night; and
but for stolen bits of reading I believe I should have gone melancholy
mad. I had no companions of my own age, no older friends to whom I
could confide my troubles or ask for advice. Mr Blakeford was always
stern and repellent; Mrs Blakeford, on the rare occasions when I
encountered her, ill-used, and ready to say something about my being an
extra expense. Only at rare intervals did I see little Hetty, and then
it would be in the street, when I had been sent to the post, to fetch
stamps, or on some such errand. Then I had a smile and a pleasant look
to think about till our next encounter.
A year glided by in this fashion, during which time, in spite of his
constant complaints, I must have grown very useful to Mr Blakeford, for
my handwriting was clear and firm, and I copied a great many documents
in the course of the month.
He was as brutal to me as ever, and never lost an opportunity of abusing
me for my being an incumbrance, or saying something which sent me
miserable to my room.
My tender point, and he knew it well enough, was an allusion to my
father's debt to him; and afterwards, when I went up wretched and
low-spirited to bed, I used to make a vow that some day or another I
would save enough money to pay him all my father owed, and so free his
memory from what the lawyer always told me was a disgrace.
Quite eighteen months had elapsed, when it became evident to me that Mr
Blakeford was in some trouble with one of his clients. This latter, a
tall florid-looking farmer, had, as I learned from what I heard of their
conversation, borrowed money from my employer upon some security, with
the understanding that payment was not to be enforced so long as the
heavy interest was provided for.
Mr Blakeford's business seemed to consist a great deal in
money-lending, and every now and then my old acquaintance, Mr Rowle,
came to the office for instructions, and found time for a friendly chat.
Upon this occasion I noticed that Mr Blakeford was very anxious about
the coming of some one to the office, and he spent a good deal of time
in watching from one of the windows.
He was sternly examining a piece of copying that I had just finished,
when there came three heavy knocks with a stick upon the outer door of
the office.