_Duke_. You are welcome: take your place.
Are you acquainted with the difference
That holds this present question in the court?
_Por_. I am informed thoroughly of the cause,
Which is the merchant here and which is the Jew?
--Shakspere.
In the dreams of Harry Vivian the delicate form and sweet, smiling face
of Flora Wilton had appeared to him, and not unfrequently. But then she
seemed ever to be some queen of faëryland, seated on a throne of gems
of dazzling brilliancy, in floral realms of more exquisite beauty
than mortal eye had ever beheld on earth, or waking fancy in its most
gorgeous development could conceive.
In his moments of romantic imaginings, when his mind was filled with
her beauty, he certainly had sketched a few scenes comprising events in
which both he and Flora figured. Still his ardent imagination had not
carried him beyond the presentation of a flower, and the reward for the
gift with which the soft grateful look from eyes, the loveliest in the
world, would enrich him.
He had never foreshadowed a time--for true love is ever subdued in
action by the most genuine modesty--when he should within his arms,
press to his throbbing heart the form which had in his eyes no equal,
or that the face so rare in its perfection, should recline upon his
shoulder, close to his lips.
Yet so it chanced to be. Circumstances he could have never shaped had
come to pass, and the bliss of entwining his arms about the small,
delicate waist of Flora Wilton was bestowed upon him at a moment the
most unexpected, when he was unprepared to welcome it and unable to
enjoy it.
Nay, rather than bliss, the emotion he experienced might be said to have
been one of terror; not without its gratification, it is true, for
he would not have resigned her, senseless as she was, to another for
worlds. Still the deathly hue with which her features were overspread,
the compressed lips, the closed eye, from which a tear had struggled,
and, disengaging itself, lodged yet upon her cheek, made him fear that
the frightful visitation which had so suddenly fallen upon her was a
calamity greater than her gentle nature was able to sustain. He grew
himself cold and faint as the supposition crossed him that, unless some
sudden and energetic measures were adopted, she would pass from her
swoon into the unawakening sleep of death.
Unacquainted with anything pertaining to fainting fits, and under a
strong impression that swooning and giving up the ghost were synonymous,
his calls for water and for aid merged from the vehement into the
frantic; he unheeded the representations made by Mr. Nutty that men in
possession never quit the sight of goods placed in their charge until
the amount they represent is satisfied; he threatened him most fiercely
for not flying to execute his commands; but, at the close of a paroxysm
of rage and agitation, he found Flora yet senseless in his arms, and
Mr. Nutty dancing and declaiming, vowing that he would take the “lor” of
“any willin as strove to hinterrupt him in his duty.”
In the midst of this harangue by Mr. Nutty upon the majesty of his
professional avocation, the door of the apartment opened, and a young
girl glided in.
She had met old Wilton on the stairs, in custody of the officers, and
had seen him borne away. She had loitered outside of the door of the
apartment--she heard the low, sobbing wail of the afflicted girl,
whose tears were wrung from her by the terrifying conviction that her
destruction was involved in the loss of her father. She heard, too, the
calls of Vivian, together with the angry colloquy between him and Nutty,
and then she decided on offering her assistance.
She was only a cap-front maker, working for a wholesale house in the
city, producing the fronts worn inside women’s bonnets, for sevenpence
halfpenny per dozen. She rose at six in the morning, and worked until
twelve at night, in order to complete two dozen per diem. Out of the sum
thus realized weekly she had to live, pay her lodging, and find herself
in clothes.
So she had not much time on her hands, nor much money in her pocket, and
was what the every-day world calls a person of no importance.
But she had a heart--a gentle, compassionate, loving heart.
She was a very pretty girl, though her complexion was something wan,
and her eyelids were rather tinged with pink; but if these appearances
detracted something from her prettiness, what did they not add to the
interest and the sympathy raised in the beholder? They told of early
rising and midnight toil, the rapid wearing out of young and beautiful
human life, so that thousands of thoughtless beings of her own sex might
set off to advantage their facial attractions--_CHEAPLY_.
Not to lengthen this digression--for we shall know much more of this
young damsel by and by--Lotte Clinton, for that was her name, hearing
the cry of young Vivian for water, entered the apartment, prepared to
offer her services if they were likely to be required.
She saw Flora Wilton lying in the arms of Hal Vivian, whose handsome
face she recognised in an instant, for she had often observed it from
her garret window upturned to the house in which she dwelt, though his
look reached not so high as where she sat peering behind her mignionette
and nasturtiums.
Hal knew her not, but just now she made her appearance, to his
conception, as an angel newly come from Paradise.
He turned his eager eyes upon her.
“Miss Wilton is in deep affliction,” he said, quickly, “she has fainted;
will you be so good as to bring some water?”
“Place her in a chair,” said Lotte, softly, “she will be better
there--she will have more air. I will run for water, and my smelling
salts. Sometimes at night, I grow faint and dizzy, and cannot see my
work, and they relieve me then wonderfully.”
She said this as she hurried out of the room.
Poor girl! She had but too often had occasion to use the stimulant for
the purpose she named.
Vivian almost unconsciously felt a reluctance to resign his beautiful
burden, but he could not help seeing that the course proposed by Lotte
was the proper one to be adopted; therefore he placed the yet lifeless
Flora, with the tenderest carefulness, upon a chair, and supported her
drooping head upon his breast.
Lotte, swift of foot, had not been a minute obtaining the ammoniacal
salts and a teacup with water in it. She did not possess a tumbler, for
she could not afford herself beer, and the water she took at her dinner,
or supper--when she could afford to indulge in the latter luxury--was as
sweet to her out of a cup as a glass.
She set to work, as a woman almost instinctively proceeds in these
matters. While she had all that tender sympathy and commiseration which
the condition of Flora could elicit from any one imbued with a
generous susceptibility, she was endowed also with that species of calm
self-possession and firm collectedness, so valuable in emergencies where
human life is at stake.
She set Vivian to work bathing with the cool water the white temples
from which his trembling fingers had parted the long waving hair, while
she herself applied the ammonia to the nostrils of Flora, and chafed her
palms when the inhalation had done its work.
Thus assaulted, nature returned to its duty, and reasserted its claims
over the motionless system of the young girl, who gradually opened her
eyes. Gazing wildly about her, she abruptly rose up from her seat, as
though she had awakened out of some painful dream.
The faces of Vivian and Lotte seemed to confuse her; but when her large,
sad eyes fell upon the unattractive countenance of Mr. Nutty, turned
upon her with an aspect in which the expression was undecided--as he was
not certain whether the swoon was a sham or a fact--memory returned,
and her bereavement, with the future and all the horrors of its
uncertainty--save that the direst poverty must attend it--burst upon
her.
She wrung her hands in the fulness of her misery, and then she murmured
through her blinding tears--
“Almighty Father! support me now!”
Lotte stole her arm about Flora’s waist, and whispered in her ear--
“Cheer up, Miss Wilton! you have friends who will not desert you.”
“Where?” she asked, bitterly. “I know of no relative, save my father and
my brother. My father is in prison, my brother is far, far away, and I
am a homeless, helpless, hopeless outcast.”
“Not hopeless!” exclaimed Vivian; “do not say that, Miss Wilton!
Remember that I have told you, Mark and I were friends before he went
away. I know him so well that I believe if any near and dear relative
of mine were, during my absence, to fall into trouble and affliction,
he would be the first to come forward and help her, and, as his friend,
what he would do that ought I to do. I make no boast; but, oh! Miss
Wilton, do not fear but that I will do my best, and that at least you
shall not be helpless nor homeless while I can command a shilling, and
have strength to work for one.”
“And you are a dear fellow, and make me foolish enough to cry, and I
wish you wouldn’t,” said Lotte, her eyes suffused with tears.
“And, likewise, you are young and green--pea-green,” thought Mr. Nutty,
as he put down in his inventory, “1 large spewn, 1 chimblee ornymint,
and 1 arthwrugg.”
Flora, with eyes beaming with gratitude, proffered her hand to Vivian,
who took it and pressed it. It would have been a dear delight to him to
have kissed it, but he felt that this was not a time for such a display
of gallantry or feeling.
“I know not how to thank you, Mr. Vivian,” she said, in trembling
accents, “but I fear I cannot, while I sincerely appreciate your generous
offers of assistance to me, avail myself of them. Your friendship for my
brother gives to me no claim upon your aid, neither does it entitle me
to accept it; and, guided by the precepts and counsels my dear father
has implanted in my mind, I seem clearly to comprehend that it would
be--may I say--an indiscretion were I to act otherwise than in most
grateful terms to decline what your disinterested generosity has
prompted you to propose. I confess that I have been terribly shocked
and shaken by what has occurred, but the nervous tremor I at this moment
endure will pass away, and I shall look with fervent faith to a brighter
time.”
“Young and green, too,” thought Mr. Nutty--“sap-green,” and placed in
his inventory, “1 immidge--a figgur of Oap.”
Lotte interposed, as Hal, with rather a disconcerted aspect, was about
to urge her acceptance of his renewed offer.
“Let us see, Mr. Vivian,” she said to him, “what tomorrow will bring
forth. At present everything is in confusion; by to-morrow we shall know
the worst; what can be done, and what there will remain to do. Then Miss
Wilton will be better able to judge in what you can be of service to
her, and I have no doubt she will feel less reluctance to accept the
kindly aid you have offered in such a friendly and worthy manner now.”
“A sensible girl, that,” thought Mr. Nutty, “works for her livin’,
an’ ’ard, too, I’ll be bound!” He put down at the same moment in his
inventory, “a peece of clokk wurk wownd up and goen; 1 nutmy graytur; 1
coles scuddel.”
Hal, seeing that the advice tendered by Lotte Clinton was acceptable to
Flora, resolved to follow it, and turning to the former, he said--
“You understand far better than I do the way to manage in such a
matter as this. I am only anxious to be of service, and my intention is
sincere. I may, by a want of tact, produce an effect entirely opposite
to that which I most desire. You are intelligent and good natured----”
“Thank you!” said Lotte, with a laugh.
“You are,” he repeated, “and I fancy you interpret justly my sincerity.”
“I am sure I do,” she answered promptly.
“Then I place myself in your hands; you will not leave Miss Wilton for
the present?” he added.
“Not for a minute,” she replied.
“You are all that I could hope you to be,” he rejoined, “and if I can
help you, you will send for me, won’t you?”
“Indeed I will!” responded Lotte.
“Bravo!” he cried. “Farewell, Miss Wilton--keep up your spirits; ‘When
matters are at their worst they mend,’ you know, and surely your affairs
could hardly be in a more unhappy predicament than at this moment.
Preserve your faith in the goodness of God, and do not despair of the
future.”
Flora could not reply; she could only return the pressure of his hand,
and then hide her face upon the neck of Lotte Clinton.
Hal then breathed a few words into the ear of Nutty to the effect
that, though he was an officer of the law, engaged in one of its most
unpleasant duties, it was quite possible for him to do his “spiriting
gently,” but that if he should entertain a contrary opinion, and offer,
or attempt to offer, to carry out in a spirit of hostility, arrogance,
and coarseness, the part he had to perform, he might prepare himself for
a reckoning, the settlement of which would not be in his favour.
Nutty was too old a hand at his craft not to know that it was best to be
civil, when as he, in rather free terms, said--“There was summat hanging
to it;” or to hesitate to be a brute when the utter poverty of the poor
creatures whose goods were seized rendered even his possession money a
question of doubt.
In the present case, he very sagaciously saw that if he acted in an
apparently compassionate and considerate spirit to the daughter of old
Wilton, and took care to let his behaviour come to the ears of young
Vivian, his purse would be rendered all the heavier by it; but if he
adopted an abrupt harshness of manner, terrified her, and permitted her
to save no little trinket, upon which she set some priceless personal
value, he might get a horse-whipping, inflicted with no light or
unwilling hand. He took; therefore, the suggestion of Vivian in good
part, winked his eyes significantly, jerked his thumb over his left
shoulder, placed his thumb to his nose, fluttered his fingers, and
otherwise bewildered the apprentice, who could only presume that these
evolutions meant that his wishes should be complied with. He, therefore,
thought it incumbent upon him, not only to seem to comprehend them, but
to so far imitate them, by slapping his pocket, tapping the palm of his
hand with one finger, and pointing to Nutty, so as to give that grubby
individual to understand that if he behaved kindly, there _would_ be
something “hanging to it.”
Nutty smiled complacently, bent the most philanthropic and benevolent of
glances upon Flora, nodded his head, and murmured, with a slight grin--
“I knows all about it.”
Thus assured, Harry Vivian waved his hand towards Flora.
“Keep up your spirits!” he cried; “all will go right yet.”
Then, with an effort, he quitted the room, ran lightly down the stairs,
and was soon in his uncle’s private room, engaged with him in earnest
conversation.
In the meantime, Lotte busied herself at the sacrifice of at least a
dozen cap fronts, or rather half a dozen hours, to be replaced by
six taken out of those devoted by her during the week to sleep, in
conferring with Flora as to the course she would have to pursue when all
the furniture was swept away, and she was left penniless and destitute.
“Have you no relations in London?” inquired Lotte; “because if you have
only one or two, I will pop on my bonnet and mantle, and run to them
very quickly. Let them be who they may, they would surely afford you
some help.”
“I never heard my father speak even of one in London or elsewhere,”
returned Flora. “We have lived very secluded while here. We have not
always lived thus. I can remember dwelling in a large house, with
beautiful furniture, mirrors, chandeliers, and gorgeous decorations;
lovely gardens, with fountains and flowers. But that is long, long ago.
I know not when, I know not why, we left it, or when or how we came
here. It seems to me that I awakened from a dream of faëryland, to find
myself in these poor apartments, and my poor father destroying his life
by the deadly closeness of his application to his labour.”
“You know, then, of no relations you could ask to help you?” said Lotte.
“None,” replied Flora.
“Nor friends whose assistance you might ask?” Flora shook her head.
“Have you any money to go on with?”
“A little, which for safety is placed”----
“Where I want to know nothing about it,” interposed Mr. Nutty, abruptly.
“See here--when I put down in my hin-vent-ory any harticle, you daren’t
touch it arterwards; leastwise, you must give it up as I’ve put it down;
but you know you can do as you like with anything as I don’t put down.
Do you tumble?”
Mr. Nutty, having rather a mean opinion of the worldly experience of
Flora, addressed his speech to Lotte, but that young lady, who had a
shrewd guess at the intention sought to be conveyed in the first speech,
did not comprehend quite clearly the last sentence, unless, as she
conceived, the man had a notion that her professional avocation was
dancing on horseback and leaping through hoops or over poles, held by
colonels in the army of the Emperor of the Brazils. She, therefore,
thanked him for the suggestion he offered, but at the same time
mystified him by informing him that she had never been on horseback in
her life.
In a few whispers she made Flora understand Nutty’s meaning, and
suggested that if there happened to be any article to which she attached
any particular value, now was the time to transfer it to a place of
safety, beyond the jurisdiction of Mr. Nutty.
Flora hesitated to avail herself of the offer--not so Lotte.
“There is my room,” she said; “no one can enter it unless I please: I
have the key. You can put anything you like within it; and I should like
to see any one dare to come in and attempt to take it out.”
Still Flora hesitated.
“These people seem to have the power to take all,” she observed, “and
if they are justly entitled to their claim, it would be an act of
dishonesty to keep anything back from them.”
“Fiddle-de-dee, dear!” exclaimed Lotte. “You don’t know that they are
justly entitled, and therefore you have the right to assume that they
are not. They act, at all events, like hard-hearted brutes, and that is
why _I_ believe they have no more right to a single thing here than I
have. So I should act just as if they had not. Now I will tell you what
my advice is. You point out to me what you, in your heart, should like
to save, and leave the rest to me.”
“That _is_ a sensible gal,” muttered Nutty, as he entered in his
inventory--“1 save-orl, a arm chare and 1 floured assik.”
At this moment there was a gentle knock at the room door, and Mr. Nutty
opened it about two inches, and peered through.
“Wot d’ye want?” said he gruffly, to some one without.
“Miss Clinton--is she here?” asked a pleasant voice without.
“Don’t know her--don’t live here,” said Nutty, slamming the door to.
Lotte screamed.
“Open it--open the door!” she cried; “it is my brother Charley.”
In an instant she put Nutty aside, opened the door, and putting her head
out, said, hastily--
“Come in, Charley; I am so glad you are here.”
Then followed a sound as of the chirruping of young sparrows. It was
Charley and Lotte performing the usual act of grace on meeting each
other, it being customary for the pair to kiss a dozen times in rapid
succession--a quick fire, painful only to those who don’t participate.
Lotte led forward her brother, a rather smartly-dressed young man, and
introduced him to Flora, with a manner which plainly said--“Isn’t he a
nice fellow?”
Flora was, however, in no mood for introductions to strangers, she
bowed, but did not speak.
“Charley is a lawyer,” said Lotte, triumphantly.
Flora slightly bowed again, without comprehending that the fact would be
of any advantage to her, and Mr. Nutty snorted as if he instantly smelt
hostile opposition to his supremacy.
The fact was, Charley was a lawyer’s clerk, on twenty-five shillings per
week, but he had improved the opportunities he possessed by working very
hard, reading up the best works on the study and practice of the law,
making himself master of cases which were precedents, and, in fact,
doing his best to fit himself either for the bar, if he could raise the
necessary funds to be called to it, or to be a first-class solicitor.
His principal object, as at present entertained by him, was to place
his sister above the reach of want, and the necessity for her present
life-destroying labour. He little knew how hard the work, how small the
earnings. Out of his narrow weekly salary he contrived occasionally to
make her little presents, and certainly he visited no place or person
more regularly or more frequently than he did the humble abode of his
sister. Not that he went much anywhere, for he well knew that eminence
in the path he had marked out to pursue could not be achieved unless by
an incessant and persevering study, which has destroyed more men than it
has ever made great.
Lotte knew of his devotion to his task--how he sat poring over
dreadfully dry books, lighted in his task by the midnight oil, and
supported in his trying work by the noble hope that he should be able
some day to keep her like a lady.
How dearly she loved him for it, no one could know but herself; and,
in addition, she thought him the cleverest lawyer in existence, much
worthier in respect of merit to preside over the bench of judges than
the Lord Chief Justice himself.
Therefore when she mentioned to Flora that he was a lawyer, she fully
expected to see her leap with delight, and she felt disappointed that
she did not.
In order to prove his incontestable superiority, she, in rapid terms,
explained to him what had occurred, and begged him to display the legal
knowledge which she was sure he possessed, by ordering Mr. Nutty to quit
the premises instanter, and to consider himself fortunate if he did
so without receiving that shaking to which she fully believed he was
entitled.
Charley smiled and shook his head.
But such was the influence of Flora’s loveliness on him, that, after
one careful perusal of her fair lineaments, he needed no urging from his
sister to render assistance if he could. He did not ask himself whether
his exertions would be made in a deserving cause; he knew they would
be performed on behalf of one possessing rare personal attractions, and
under his first impressions that sufficed.
He commenced action by questioning Mr. Nutty, who exhibited most restive
indications under examination. Charley demanded to see the warrant under
which Mr. Nutty held possession, which Mr. Nutty refused, but, under the
bewildering, sharp, quick, and pertinent questions of the young lawyer,
he let slip the fact that Mr. Jukes had gone away without lodging it
with him.
“You are not certain that Mr. Jukes has it, I dare be sworn!” cried
Charley, looking at him, fixedly.
“Oh yes, I am--I’ll swear that!”
“You will?”
“Take my oath on it. I seed it in his hand, when he made the seizure,
and he ort to a gev’ it me afore he went away.”
“But he did not!”
“No; he was so okkepied with his prisoner that he took it with him.”
“Then you must go after him!”
“No, thank you.”
“Yes, you must! You have no warrant you know, therefore, you are _not_
in _possession_. In point of fact and of law--you are guilty of an act
of trespass. You had better go.”
“Shan’t budge a hinch.”
“Then I shall make you! If you resist, I will fling you over the
banisters to the passage below!”
“Do not hurt him too much!” interposed Lotte, with a half-frightened
look.
“Not if he goes quietly--but out he must go!”
“If you uses wiolence, I’ll have the lor on you!” cried Nutty, in
evident terror.
“I shall only use the proper force to put you into the street, and,
unless you at once disappear, I warn you you must take the consequences
of the false position in which you know, as well as I do, your employer,
through his negligence, has placed you.”
“Ain’t a’going!” cried Nutty, folding his arms, and placing his back
against the wall.
“Very well,” said Charley, “that is a point we have to determine.”
He caught Mr. Nutty firmly by the wrist, and then giving his own hand
an overturn, and Mr. Nutty’s an underturn, he, with his left hand seized
him by his collar, and drew him at a rapid rate towards the door.
Mr. Nutty uttered a yell.
“Yah!” he cried, “le’go my arm, your’e dexlycatin’ on it.”
Charley, however, heeded him not, but put him outside the door on to
the landing. The man in possession was thus no longer entitled to his
cognomen.