JOSEY WEST DISTURBS US IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT.
'Well, Master Chris,' said Josey West, as my mother and I entered the
kitchen on the following night, here are the old times come over
again. Now, children, bustle about! Florry, take mother's shawl and
bonnet.' (They all called her mother.) 'Ah, you're looking about you,
my dear; they're a queer lot of things; but they belong to a queer lot
of people. The first night Chris came here he bumped his head. I heard
some one tumbling about in the passage, and I called out to know who
was there. "It's Me," Master Chris answered, as if all the world knew
who Me was. "Come downstairs, Mr. Me," I called; and down he came
head over heels, and fell sprawling right in the middle of the
kitchen. Ah, that was a night! Do you remember the scene from _As You
Like It_, Master Chris, and how mad you were when Jessie said, "Ask me
what you will, I will grant it;" and Gus said, "Then love me,
Rosalind?" You thought no one knew what was going on inside that head
of yours, but I saw it all as clear as clear can be. I'm a witch, my
dear. Did you ever hear'--(she was addressing my mother now)--'that I
played an old witch for an entire season? I did, and played it well; I
could show you the notices I got in the papers on the day they
contained all about the pantomimes, but you would think me vain if I
did. What a big little woman I thought myself, to be sure! I thought
all the world must know me as I walked along, and I cocked up my head,
I can tell you. How we do puff ourselves out, we frogs! That's what I
asked you that night, Master Chris, the name of that thing in the
fable that puffed itself out and came to grief; and I remember saying
that of all the conceited creatures in this topsy-turvy world actors
and actresses are the worst; though I think I know some who are almost
as bad. But to come back about Gus, my dear. You've no cause to be
jealous of him; he's engaged, my dear--engaged! Here's her picture--a
pretty little thing, isn't she? But Gus never would make love to a
girl unless she was pretty, and he was always a bit of a flirt. He'll
have to settle down now; his ogling days are over; this little bit of
a thing has got hold of him as tight as a fish. They'll all be getting
married directly--all of them except me and Turk perhaps--and he's the
one I want to see married most of all. There's Florry there--what are
you listening to, Florry?--you should see how the men are beginning to
stare at her! and that sets a girl thinking, you know. As for Chris,
he must be blind; I only know if I was a young man--But there! I'll
say no more, or you'll be calling me as bad a gossip as Mrs. Simpson.
Perhaps some one else would like to say a word or two?'
And here Josey paused to take breath. I knew that she had only
chattered on in this way for the purpose of giving me time to recover
myself upon entering the kitchen; for as I looked around upon the old
familiar walls, a flood of tender reminiscences had rushed upon my
mind, and my eyes had filled with tears. Whether by design or
accident, the kitchen presented exactly the same appearance as on the
first night I had seen it. The old theatrical dresses and properties
were on the walls; the dummy man in chain armour that had once played
a famous part in a famous drama was lurking in a corner; the curtain
of patchwork was hung on its line, dividing the stage from the
auditorium; and Matty and Rosy and Nelly and Sophy were busy at work
on stage dresses and adornments. My mother was delighted with all she
saw, and caressed the children, who all doted on her, and pulled out
of her pocket a packet of sweetmeats for them. Her brain could never
have been idle; when she went on the simplest errand, she must have
thought of it beforehand, and her affectionate thoughtful nature
invariably made that errand pleasant to some one. Her wonderful
thoughtfulness, wedded as it was to affection and unselfishness, was
one of her greatest charms; it strewed her course through life with
flowers which sprang up in barren places, and gladdened many a sad
heart. I know that, between ourselves, every wish I formed was
anticipated before I expressed it, and while the words explaining it
were on my lips, she was scheming how it could be gratified. This
charming and most beautiful quality--which in a home breeds love, and
keeps it always sweet and fresh--was exhibited even on such an
occasion as our present visit to Josey, in the pleasantest of ways. As
my mother chatted with Josey, she handed one child the thread, another
the wax, another something which the little one's eyes were seeking
for; and all these things were done in the most natural manner, and
without in the least disturbing her conversation with Josey. Trivial
as these matters are, they are deserving of mention; happy must be
that home which has such a spirit moving in its midst.
'The youngsters are all at work, I see,' I said to Josey, when I had
mastered my agitation; 'to fill up the time, I suppose.'
'Not a bit of it, Master Chris,' replied Josey. 'Sophy and Rosy and
Matty have an engagement to play in a new burlesque; they play the
Three Graces--very little ones they will be, but it's a burlesque, you
know--and very well they'll look. Now then, up with you, and go
through the first scene.'
The children jumped from their chairs, and went through the scene,
speaking with pretty emphasis the few words intrusted to them, and
dancing with infinite grace. It was amusing to witness the gravity
with which they tucked up their dresses so as to show their
petticoats, which looked more like ballet clothes than their brown
frocks. We all applauded heartily.
'Bravo! bravo!' cried Turk, who had entered during the scene. 'If the
author isn't satisfied with that performance, then nothing will
satisfy him. But nothing less than a hundred nights' run ever does
satisfy an author--How are you, mother? How do you do, Chris, my boy?
Well, Josey, old girl! No, nothing less than that ever does satisfy an
author, who invariably says, when a piece is a failure, that the
actors are muffs and don't know their business. But they get as good
as they give; let actors alone for reckoning up an author. They know
how much of the credit belongs to them, and how much to him.'
Josey laughed merrily at this.
'It almost always all belongs to the actor, Turk,' she said.
'Of course it does, and very properly too. The audience say, when an
actor makes a point, What a clever fellow the author is! They should
read the stuff: they'd form a different opinion. Josey, do you know it
is nearly ten o'clock?'
A look of some meaning passed between Turk and Josey, and Josey
desired the children to put away their work. Presently they all went
to bed, my mother going with them at their express desire. Only Turk,
Josey, and I were now in the kitchen. We talked on various subjects,
not in the most natural way, as it appeared to me; I said little, not
being inclined for conversation. Turk was somewhat thoughtful, and
more than usually observant of me, but Josey was in the wildest of
spirits, and laughed without apparent cause, and said the most absurd
things.
'I knew a lady,' she said, 'who played a character-part in a
successful piece, which had an immense run; it was played for more
than two hundred nights. She hadn't a great deal to say, but every
time she spoke she either commenced or ended with "Bless my soul!"
Now, if you will believe me, her "Bless my soul!" made the piece.
Every time she said it the audience roared with laughter, and you
could hear them as they went away from the theatre of a night saying,
"Bless my soul!" to one another, and laughing, as if there was really
something wonderfully comic in the words. It was a great misfortune to
her, for her mind so ran upon it, that morning, noon, and night she
was continually saying nothing but "Bless my soul!" until her friends
got so wearied of it that they wished she hadn't a soul to bless. I
slept with her one night, and all through her sleep she was talking to
herself, and blessing her soul. It was the ruin of her as an actress;
for always afterwards the people in the theatre called out, "Hallo!
here conies Bless-my-soul!" and of course that spoilt the effect of a
good many of her characters.'
'But that's not as bad,' said Turk, 'as me when I played The Thug for
seven months. Do you remember, Josey?'
'Do I remember it?' Josey repeated, with a look of comic horror.
'Haven't I cause to remember it? You see, Chris, he had to strangle
people in the piece. How many every night, Turk?'
'Seventeen,' he replied in a tone of great satisfaction.
'He had to strangle seventeen people every night for seven months, my
dear. Well, that made an impression upon him, and I daresay he began
to look upon himself as a lawful strangler. I must say, that when he
strangled the people on the stage, he did it in such a manner that no
one could help believing that he enjoyed it.'
'It was realistic acting, Josey,' said Turk complacently; 'that's what
it was.'
'It was a little too realistic for me,' observed Josey. 'For what do
you think he did one night, Chris, my dear? He was living in this
house at the time, and we all went to bed quite comfortably, after a
heavy supper. Turk had had a great triumph that night, and the
audience were so delighted with the way in which he strangled his
victims, that they called him before the curtain more than once. We
talked of it a great deal after supper. Well, in the middle of the
night I woke up with a curious sensation upon me. Something seemed to
be crawling towards me very stealthily. I listened in a terrible
fright, and sure enough I heard something crawling in the room. I
lit a candle quickly, you may be sure; and there I saw Turk in his
nightshirt, as I'm a living woman, creeping about on the floor, as he
was in the habit every night of creeping about on the stage in the
character of The Thug. He was fast asleep, my dear. "Turk! Turk!" I
cried, and I was about to jump out of bed and give him a good shaking,
when he shouted, "Ha! ha! I have you! Die! die!" and he ran up to me.
My dear, if I hadn't jumped out on the other side of the bed, and
poured a jug of cold water down his back, I believe he would have
strangled me. It woke him up, and a nice state he was in. Every night
after that, until the run of the piece was over, and he was playing
other characters, I locked him in his bedroom, and took away the key.
I wasn't going to have the children strangled in their sleep, and Turk
hanged for it. I used to go to the door of his room in the dead of
night, and more than once I heard him crawling about on the floor,
strangling imaginary people, with his "Ha! ha! Die! die!" He never
knew anything of it, my dear, and used to come down to breakfast
looking as innocent as a lamb.'
Turk seemed to take pride in this narration.
'It shows that I was in earnest,' he said. 'There's ten o'clock
striking.'
We listened in silence, and did not speak until the last echo had
quite died away. Then I raised my head and saw that Josey was looking
at me very earnestly.
'Chris, my dear,' she said, somewhat nervously, 'you have good cause
to remember the first night you came into this house.'
'Indeed I have, Josey,' I replied.
'I'm going to give you better cause to remember to-night. I'm a little
witch, you know.' She hobbled about the kitchen, and, after going
through some absurd pantomime, came and stood close behind me. I
should have been inclined to laugh, but that Turk's serious face made
me serious. 'Now, then,' she continued, placing her arms round my
neck, and her hands upon my eyes, 'ever since I played that witch,
I've had the idea that I could do magic things if I tried. I'm going
to try now; shut your eyes, and wish.' She placed her lips close to my
ear, and I thought she was about to whisper something, but she kissed
me instead. I humoured her, and did not make an effort to free myself
from her embrace. We must have remained in this position for fully two
minutes, during which time I heard the door open and shut. When Josey
removed her hands, I saw my mother sitting on one side, and uncle
Bryan on the other. I held out my hand gladly to him; Josey clapped
hers in delight.
'It was a whim of this good little woman's,' said uncle Bryan, looking
at Josey affectionately. 'And we were compelled to let her have her
way. We owe her too much to refuse her anything.'
'But you don't look as surprised as I thought you would, Master
Chris,' exclaimed Josey, in a tone of assumed disappointment.
'Well, the truth is, Josey,' I said, 'I saw uncle Bryan yesterday; so
it is not so much of a surprise as you thought it would be.'
'Oh, indeed!' she said.
'And then again,' I said, taking her hand, 'do you think that anything
kind from you can surprise me? No, indeed, Josey; we all have cause to
know the goodness of your heart. I couldn't love a sister better than
I love you.'
'Did anybody ever hear the like of that!' she exclaimed, laughing and
crying at one time. 'As if a single girl wanted to be loved like a
sister! Never mind, Chris, my dear, don't mind what I say; you know
what I mean. But, as the first act of my piece is not as successful as
I thought it would be, I shall have nothing to do with the second. Oh,
yes, it's in two acts, Chris!'
Before I could speak, uncle Bryan took up her words.
'It is another of this good little woman's whims, my dear boy,' he
said, that we should all sleep in the old shop to-night, as we used to
do, your mother, you, and I. It will only be for this one night,
Chris, notwithstanding Josey's persuasion, for if all goes well, I
shall regularly make over the business to her; and to-morrow morning
she will take possession again.'
'You have decided to come and live with us,' I said; 'that is good,
isn't it, mother?'
'We shall have time to talk over that to-night, my dear boy.'
'Then the best thing you can do,' said Josey briskly, 'is to run away
at once and settle it. I sha'n't be able to close my eyes until I know
how it is all settled. There! Away with you!' And she fairly bustled
us out of the house.
'Let us walk slowly,' said uncle Bryan, 'it is a fine night, and I
have something to say to you. Nay, Emma, don't walk away; I should
like you to hear me. Chris, the words you addressed to me the last
night we were together in the old shop have never left my mind. Do not
interrupt me, my dear boy--I think I know what you wish to say. You
would say that you spoke too strongly, and that you painted all that
had passed in colours too vivid; let that be as it may, you spoke the
truth. I recognised it then; I recognise and acknowledge it now. But
the pain which I suffered--and I did suffer most keenly, my dear
boy--was not so much for myself as for your dear mother, for I saw
that every word you spoke wounded her tender heart. Had you seen this,
you would have held your tongue, and I should have been spared a just
punishment. Chris, I did not ask you yesterday, although it was in my
mind to do so; I ask you now: have you forgiven me?'
I was humbled by the humbleness of his tone and manner. It might have
been a child who was pleading to me. I found it impossible to speak,
but I threw my arms round his neck, and kissed him.
'That is well, that is well,' he said; 'I have but one wish now--to
repair the wrong I have done. You said that I had driven all hope of
happiness from your heart; what kind of happiness should I experience
if I could restore what I have robbed you of! Repentance is good;
atonement is better!'
I knew by his agitated tone how strong was his wish, and I pressed his
hand. Silence was best at such a time.
Shortly afterwards we arrived at the shop, and I saw a light gleaming
through the shutters. To my surprise, uncle Bryan, instead of
unlocking the door, knocked at it, and I found myself wondering who
was inside; all the members of Josey West's family were at home in
their old house. As uncle Bryan knocked, my mother grasped my hand
tightly; I looked into her face, and saw in it an expression of love,
so sweet and pure, and yet withal so wistful and yearning, that a wild
unreasoning hope entered my heart. I could not have defined it, but it
seemed to me that something good was about to occur. The door was
opened from within, and uncle Bryan stood for a moment on the
threshold. Before I could follow him my mother pulled my face down to
hers, and kissed me more than once with great tenderness.
'You are crying, mother,' I said; and then I thought that joy on
entering the old shop, and sleeping again beneath its roof, had caused
her tears.
'God bless you, my darling!' she sobbed; 'God bless you!'
We entered the shop; uncle Bryan was standing there alone; a light was
in the little parlour.
'Go in, Chris,' he said.
'I went in, and there sat Jessie, working at the table. She looked
towards me, with a smile that was tender and arch upon her lips. I
passed my hands across my eyes, scarcely believing the evidence of my
senses.
'It is true, Chris,' she said, rising; 'are you not glad to see me?'
I looked round for uncle Bryan and my mother; they were not in the
room, and the door was closed behind me. Then I understood it all.
'Have you come back for good, Jessie?' I asked.
'I can't hear you,' she replied, 'you are so far away!'
I stepped close to her side, and my arm stole round her waist; she
sighed happily.
'Have I come back for good?' she repeated. 'That is for you to decide,
Chris.'
'You are in earnest with me, Jessie?'
She smiled. 'I saw you yesterday,' she said.
'Where?'
'When you came to see your uncle Bryan; I have been living in the same
house, on the first floor, Chris, where the finest flowers are. Do you
begin to understand?'
'Tell me more, Jessie. Did mother know you were living there?'
'Yes, and Josey West, and Turk also. Nearly all that money Turk
borrowed of you was for me to pay what Mr. Rackstraw said I owed him.
Would you have lent it to him if you had known?'
'You must answer that question for me, Jessie,' I said, still
uncertain of the happiness that was in store for me.
We were standing by the mantelshelf, on which lay a little packet in
brown paper. Jessie took it in her hand.
'Mother told me to give you this, Chris. Stay, though; what is that
round your neck?'
'The ribbon you gave me, Jessie.'
'And the locket, where is that?'
'It is here, Jessie.' I showed it to her; the earnest look that was
struggling to her eyes came into them fully.
'You did not cast me quite away, then? Have you always worn it,
Chris?'
'Always, Jessie.'
'I am glad, I am glad,' she murmured, and presently said, 'Here is
your packet, Chris.'
I opened it, and found the watch and the ivory brooch I had intended
to give Jessie on her birthday.
'Do you know what is in this packet, Jessie?'
'No, Chris.'
I took the trinkets out of the paper:
'I bought them as a birthday present for you, Jessie. Look at what is
engraved inside the watch, and if you can accept it, you will make me
very happy.'
She opened the case and read: 'From Chris to Jessie, on her eighteenth
birthday. With undying love.' Her eyes were fixed upon the inscription
for a much longer time than was necessary for the reading and
understanding of the words. When she raised them, tears were
glistening in them.
'Will you fasten it for me, Chris?' she said, in a low soft tone.
With an ineffable feeling of happiness I placed the slender chain
about her neck, and while my arms were round her, she raised her face
to mine, and I kissed her.
A few minutes later, while we were still alone, Jessie said,
'You know why I left home on my birthday, Chris?'
'I know all, Jessie.'
'And yet not quite all, I think. I shall have no secrets from you,
Chris, not one. I believe I should have left soon afterwards, even if
it had not been for my mother's letter, and for the discovery that
uncle Bryan was my father.'
'For what reason, Jessie?'
'You do not suspect, then?'
'I have a dim suspicion, dear, but I would prefer you to tell me.'
'Chris,' she said, very seriously, 'you loved me too much.'
'That could not be, Jessie.'
'It could and can be. In your love for me you forgot some one else, a
thousand million times better than I am, Chris.'
'My mother?'
'Your mother. I reproached myself every day and every night for being
the cause of it. I was afraid that your attachment to that dearest
angel on earth was growing weaker and weaker, and I knew that I was
the cause of it. I saw the pain, the unutterable pain, my dear, that
your neglect of your mother was causing her tender heart, and I was
continually striving to discover in what way you could be 'brought to
learn how much more pure and beautiful and sacred her love was than
mine. If things had gone on in the same way, I should have run away as
it was, Chris, so that you might have been forced to seek for comfort
in the shelter of her love. Do you understand me, my dear? Your love
for me made you colour-blind.'
How much dearer this confession made Jessie to me I need not describe.
'I see things in a better light now, my darling,' I said humbly; 'I am
not colour-blind now.'
Uncle Bryan and my mother would not have disturbed us all the night if
we had not called to them to come in and share our happiness.
Those who understand the strength and purity of love can understand by
what links of tender feeling we were henceforward bound to one
another--sacred links which death itself will be powerless to sever.
Jessie sat on a stool at her father's feet; my mother and I sat close
to them, my hand on Jessie's neck, clasped in one of hers.
It must have been two o'clock in the morning, and we were still
talking, unconscious of the hour, when a great thumping was heard at
the street-door. I jumped to my feet, and opened the door, and Josey
West ran in.
'I couldn't help it, my dears,' she cried; 'I know I have no business
here, but I should have done something desperate if I hadn't run round
to see how you were all getting on. I went to bed, but as I'm a living
woman I couldn't sleep a wink; so I got out of bed and dressed myself,
and thought, I'll just see if there's a light in the shop. And when I
came and saw the light, how could I help knocking? Well, Chris, how do
you like the second act? Better than the first? I do believe, as the
speechmakers say, this is the happiest day of my life.'
And the queer good little woman fell to crying and kissing us.
I am afraid you would scarcely believe me if I were to tell you at
what time we went to bed that morning.