CHAPTER XV.

"When God wills, all winds bring rain."--Ancient Proverb.

The manager had not submitted to the loss of his property in Sophy and

L100 without taking much vain trouble to recover the one or the other.

He had visited Jasper while that gentleman lodged in St. James's; but the

moment he hinted at the return of the L100, Mr. Losely opened both door

and window, and requested the manager to make his immediate choice of the

two. Taking the more usual mode of exit, Mr. Rugge vented his just

indignation in a lawyer's letter, threatening Mr. Losely with an action

for conspiracy and fraud. He had also more than once visited Mrs. Crane,

who somewhat soothed him by allowing that he had been very badly used,

that he ought at least to be repaid his money, and promising to do her

best to persuade Mr. Losely "to behave like a gentleman." With regard to

Sophy herself, Mrs. Crane appeared to feel a profound indifference. In

fact, the hatred which Mrs. Crane had unquestionably conceived for Sophy

while under her charge was much diminished by Losely's unnatural conduct

towards the child. To her it was probably a matter of no interest

whether Sophy was in Rugge's hands or Waife's; enough for her that the

daughter of a woman against whose memory her fiercest passions were

enlisted was, in either case, so far below herself in the grades of the

social ladder.

Perhaps of the two protectors for Sophy, Rugge and Waife, her spite alone

would have given the preference to Waife. He was on a still lower step

of the ladder than the itinerant manager. Nor, though she had so

mortally injured the forlorn cripple in the eyes of Mr. Hartopp, had

she any deliberate purpose of revenge to gratify against him! On the

contrary, if she viewed him with contempt, it was a contempt not unmixed

with pity. It was necessary to make to the Mayor the communications she

had made, or that worthy magistrate would not have surrendered the child

intrusted to him, at least until Waife's return. And really it was a

kindness to the old man to save him both from an agonizing scene with

Jasper, and from the more public opprobrium which any resistance on his

part to Jasper's authority or any altercation between the two would

occasion. And as her main object then was to secure Losely's allegiance

to her, by proving her power to be useful to him, so Waifes and Sophys

and Mayors and Managers were to her but as pawns to be moved and

sacrificed, according to the leading strategy of her game.

Rugge came now, agitated and breathless, to inform Mrs. Crane that Waife

had been seen in London. Mr. Rugge's clown had seen him, not far from

the Tower; but the cripple had disappeared before the clown, who was on

the top of an omnibus, had time to descend. "And even if he had actually

caught hold of Mr. Waife," observed Mrs. Crane, "what then? You have no

claim on Mr. Waife."

"But the Phenomenon must be with that ravishing marauder," said Rugge.

"However, I have set a minister of justice--that is, ma'am, a detective

police--at work; and what I now ask of you is simply this: should it be

necessary for Mr. Losely to appear with me before the senate--that is to

say, ma'am, a metropolitan police-court--in order to prove my legal

property in my own bought and paid for Phenomenon, will you induce that

bold bad man not again to return the poisoned chalice to my lips?"

"I do not even know where Mr. Losely is; perhaps not in London."

"Ma'am, I saw him last night at the theatre,--Princess's. I was in the

shilling gallery. He who owes me L100, ma'am,--he in a private box!"

"Ah! you are sure; by himself?"

"With a lady, ma'am,--a lady in a shawl from Ingee. I know them shawls.

My father taught me to know them in early childhood, for he was an

ornament to British commerce,--a broker, ma'am,--pawn! And," continued

Rugge, with a withering smile, "that man in a private box, which at the

Princess's costs two pounds two, and with the spoils of Ingee by his

side, lifted his eyeglass and beheld me,--me in the shilling gallery!

and his conscience did not say, 'Should we not change places if I paid

that gentleman L100?' Can such things be, and overcome us, ma'am, like a

summer cloud, without our special--I put it to you, ma'am--wonder?"

"Oh, with a lady, was he?" exclaimed Arabella Crane, her wrath, which,

while the manager spoke, gathered fast and full, bursting now into words.

"His ladies shall know the man who sells his own child for a show; only

find out where the girl is, then come here again before you stir further.

Oh, with a lady! Go to your detective policeman, or rather send him to

me; we will first discover Mr. Losely's address. I will pay all the

expenses. Rely on my zeal, Mr. Rugge."

Much comforted, the manager went his way. He had not been long gone

before Jasper himself appeared. The traitor entered with a more than

customary bravado of manner, as if he apprehended a scolding, and was

prepared to face it; but Mrs. Crane neither reproached him for his

prolonged absence, nor expressed surprise at his return. With true

feminine duplicity, she received him as if nothing had happened. Jasper,

thus relieved, became of his own accord apologetic and explanatory;

evidently he wanted something of Mrs. Crane. "The fact is, my dear

friend," said he, sinking into a chair, "that the day after I last saw

you I happened to go to the General Post Office to see if there were any

letters for me. You smile: you don't believe me. Honour bright, here

they are;" and Jasper took from the side pocket of his coat a pocket-

book, a new pocket-book, a brilliant pocket-book, fragrant Russian

leather, delicately embossed, golden clasps, silken linings, jewelled

pencil-case, malachite pen-knife,--an arsenal of knickknacks stored in

neat recesses; such a pocket-book as no man ever gives to himself.

Sardanapalus would not have given that pocket-book to himself! Such a

pocket-book never comes to you, O enviable Lotharios, save as tributary

keepsakes from the charmers who adore you! Grimly the Adopted Mother

eyed that pocket-book. Never had she seen it before. Grimly she pinched

her lips. Out of this dainty volume--which would have been of cumbrous

size to a slim thread-paper exquisite, but scarcely bulged into ripple

the Atlantic expanse of Jasper Losely's magnificent chest--the monster

drew forth two letters on French paper,--foreign post-marks. He replaced

them quickly, only suffering her eye to glance at the address, and

continued, "Fancy! that purse-proud Grand Turk of an infidel, though he

would not believe me, has been to France,--yes, actually to ----- making

inquiries evidently with reference to Sophy. The woman who ought to have

thoroughly converted him took flight, however, and missed seeing him.

Confound her!"

"I ought to have been there. So I have no doubt for the present the Pagan

remains stubborn. Gone on into Italy I hear; doing me, violating the

laws of Nature, and roving about the world, with his own solitary hands

in his bottomless pockets,--like the wandering Jew! But, as some slight

set-off in my run of ill-luck, I find at the post-office a pleasanter

letter than the one which brings me this news. A rich elderly lady, who

has no family, wants to adopt a nice child; will take Sophy,--make it

worth my while to let her have Sophy. 'T is convenient in a thousand

ways to settle one's child comfortably in a rich house; establishes

rights, subject, of course, to cheques which would not affront me,--a

father! But the first thing requisite is to catch Sophy: 't is in that I

ask your help; you are so clever. Best of creatures! what could I do

without you? As you say, whenever I want a friend I come to you,--

Bella!"

Mrs. Crane surveyed Jasper's face deliberately. It is strange how much

more readily women read the thoughts of men than men detect those of

women. "You know where the child is," said she, slowly.

"Well, I take it for granted she is with the old man; and I have seen

him,--seen him yesterday."

"Go on; you saw him,--where?"

"Near London Bridge."

"What business could you possibly have in that direction? Ah! I guess,

the railway station to Dover: you are going abroad?"

"No such thing; you are so horribly suspicious. But it is true I had

been to the station inquiring after some luggage or parcels which a

friend of mine had ordered to be left there; now, don't interrupt me.

At the foot of the bridge I caught a sudden glimpse of the old man,--

changed, altered, aged, one eye lost. You had said I should not know him

again, but I did; I should never have recognized his face. I knew him by

the build of the shoulder, a certain turn of the arms, I don't know what;

one knows a man familiar to one from birth without seeing his face. Oh,

Bella; I declare that I felt as soft,--as soft as the silliest muff who

ever--" Jasper did not complete his comparison, but paused a moment,

breathing hard, and then broke into another sentence. "He was selling

something in a basket,--matches, boot-straps, deuce knows what. He! a

clever man too! I should have liked to drop into that d----d basket all

the money I had about me."

"Why did not you?"

"Why? How could I? He would have recognized me. There would have been

a scene,--a row, a flare up, a mob round us, I dare say. I had no idea

it would so upset me; to see him selling matches too; glad we did not

meet at Gatesboro'. Not even for that L100 do I think I could have faced

him. No; as he said when we last parted, 'The world is wide enough for

both.' Give me some brandy; thank you."

"You did not speak to the old man; he did not see you: but you wanted to

get back the child; you felt sure she must be with him; you followed him

home?"

"I? No; I should have had to wait for hours. A man like me, loitering

about London Bridge! I should have been too conspicuous; he would have

soon caught sight of me, though I kept on his blind side. I employed a

ragged boy to watch and follow him, and here is the address. Now, will

you get Sophy back for me without any trouble to me, without my

appearing? I would rather charge a regiment of horse-guards than bully

that old man."

"Yet you would rob him of the child,--his sole comfort?"

"Bother!" cried Losely, impatiently; "the child can be only a burden to

him; well out of his way; 't is for the sake of that child he is selling

matches! It would be the greatest charity we could do him to set him

free from that child sponging on him, dragging him down; without her he'd

find a way to shift for himself. Why, he's even cleverer than I am! And

there--there; give him this money, but don't say it came from me."

He thrust, without counting, several sovereigns--at least twelve or

fourteen--into Mrs. Crane's palm; and so powerful a charm has goodness

the very least, even in natures the most evil, that that unusual,

eccentric, inconsistent gleam of human pity in Jasper Losely's benighted

soul shed its relenting influence over the angry, wrathful, and

vindictive feelings with which Mrs. Crane the moment before regarded the

perfidious miscreant; and she gazed at him with a sort of melancholy

wonder. What! though so little sympathizing with affection that he could

not comprehend that he was about to rob the old man of a comfort which no

gold could repay; what though so contemptuously callous to his own

child,--yet there in her hand lay the unmistakable token that a something

of humanity, compunction, compassion, still lingered in the breast of the

greedy cynic; and at that thought all that was softest in her own human

nature moved towards him, indulgent, gentle. But in the rapid changes of

the heart feminine, the very sentiment that touched upon love brought

back the jealousy that bordered upon hate. How came he by so much money?

more than days ago he, the insatiate spendthrift, had received for his

task-work? And that POCKETBOOK!

"You have suddenly grown rich, Jasper."

For a moment he looked confused, but replied as he rehelped himself to

the brandy, "Yes, rouge-et-noir,--luck. Now, do go and see after this

affair, that's a dear good woman. Get the child to-day if you can; I

will call here in the evening."

"Should you take her, then, abroad at once to this worthy lady who will

adopt her? If so, we shall meet, I suppose, no, more; and I am assisting

you to forget that I live still."

"Abroad,--that crotchet of yours again! You are quite mistaken; in fact,

the lady is in London. It was for her effects that I went to the

station. Oh, don't be jealous; quite elderly."

"Jealous, my dear Jasper! you forget. I am as your mother. One of your

letters, then, announced this lady's intended arrival; you were in

correspondence with this--elderly lady."

"Why, not exactly in correspondence. But when I left Paris I gave the

General Post Office as my address to a few friends in France. And this

lady, who took an interest in my affairs (ladies, whether old or young,

who have once known me, always do), was aware that I had expectations

with respect to the child. So some days ago, when I was so badly off,

I wrote a line to tell her that Sophy had been no go, and that, but for a

dear friend (that is you), I might be on the pave. In her answer, she

said she should be in London as soon as I received her letter; and gave

me an address here at which to learn where to find her when arrived,--

a good old soul, but strange to London. I have been very busy, helping

her to find a house, recommending tradesmen, and so forth. She likes

style, and can afford it. A pleasant house enough, but our quiet

evenings here spoil me for anything else. Now get on your bonnet, and

let me see you off."

"On one condition, my dear Jasper,--that you stay here till I return."

Jasper made a wry face. But, as it was near dinner-time and he never

wanted for appetite, he at length agreed to employ the interval of her

absence in discussing a meal, which experience had told him Mrs. Crane's

new cook would, not unskilfully, though hastily, prepare. Mrs. Crane

left him to order the dinner, and put on her shawl and bonnet. But,

gaining her own room, she rang for Bridget Greggs, and when that

confidential servant appeared, she said, "In the side pocket of Mr.

Losely's coat there is a POCKET-BOOK; in it there are some letters which

I must see. I shall appear to go out; leave the street-door ajar, that I

may slip in again unobserved. You will serve dinner as soon as possible.

And when Mr. Losely, as usual, exchanges his coat for the dressing-gown,

contrive to take out that pocket-book unobserved by him. Bring it to me

here, in this room: you can as easily replace it afterwards. A moment

will suffice to my purpose."

Bridget nodded, and understood. Jasper, standing by the window, saw Mrs.

Crane leave the house, walking briskly. He then threw himself on the

sofa, and began to doze: the doze deepened, and became sleep. Bridget,

entering to lay the cloth, so found him. She approached on tiptoe,

sniffed the perfume of the pocket-book, saw its gilded corners peep

forth from its lair. She hesitated; she trembled; she was in mortal fear

of that truculent slumberer; but sleep lessens the awe thieves feel or

heroes inspire. She has taken the pocketbook; she has fled with the

booty; she is in Mrs. Crane's apartment not five minutes after Mrs. Crane

has regained its threshold.

Rapidly the jealous woman ransacked the pocket-book; started to see,

elegantly worked with gold threads, in the lining, the words, "SOUVIENS

TOI DE TA GABRIELLE;" no other letters, save the two, of which Jasper had

vouchsafed to her but the glimpse. Over these she hurried her glittering

eyes; and when she restored them to their place, and gave back the book

to Bridget, who stood by breathless and listening, lest Jasper should

awake, her face was colourless, and a kind of shudder seemed to come over

her. Left alone, she rested her face on, her hand, her lips moving as if

in self-commune. Then noiselessly she glided down the stairs, regained

the street, and hurried fast upon her way.

Bridget was not in time to restore the book to Jasper's pocket, for when

she re-entered he was turning round and stretching himself between sleep

and waking. But she dropped the book skilfully on the floor, close

beside the sofa: it would seem to him, on waking, to have fallen out of

the pocket in the natural movements of sleep.

And, in fact, when he rose, dinner now on the table, he picked up the

pocket-book without suspicion. But it was lucky that Bridget had not

waited for the opportunity suggested by her mistress. For when Jasper

put on the dressing-gown, he observed that his coat wanted brushing; and,

in giving it to the servant for that purpose, he used the precaution of

taking out the pocket-book, and placing it in some other receptacle of

his dress.

Mrs. Crane returned in less than two hours,--returned with a disappointed

look, which at once prepared Jasper for the intelligence that the birds

to be entrapped had flown.

"They went away this afternoon," said Mrs. Crane, tossing Jasper's

sovereigns on the table as if they burned her fingers. "But leave the

fugitives to me. I will find them."

Jasper relieved his angry mind by a series of guilty but meaningless

expletives; and then, seeing no further use to which Mrs. Crane's wish

could be applied at present, finished the remainder of her brandy, and

wished her good-night, with a promise to call again, but without any

intimation of his own address. As soon as he was gone, Mrs. Crane once

more summoned Bridget.

"You told me last week that your brother-in-law, Simpson, wished to go to

America, that he had the offer of employment there, but that he could not

afford the fare of the voyage. I promised I would help him if it was a

service to you."

"You are a hangel, miss!" exclaimed Bridget, dropping a low courtesy,

--so low that it seemed as if she was going on her knees. "And may you

have your deserts in the next blessed world, where there are no black-

hearted villings."

"Enough, enough," said Mrs. Crane, recoiling perhaps from that grateful

benediction. "You have been faithful to me, as none else have ever been;

but this time I do not serve you in return so much as I meant to do. The

service is reciprocal, if your brother-in-law will do me a favour. He

takes with him his daughter, a mere child. Bridget, let them enter their

names on the steam-vessel as William and Sophy Waife; they can, of

course, resume their own name when the voyage is over. There is the fare

for them, and something more. Pooh, no thanks. I can spare the money.

See your brother-in-law the first thing in the morning; and remember that

they go by the next vessel, which sails from Liverpool on Thursday."

What Will He Do with It? — Volume 04 · 第 15 / 19 章