THE THAMES AT NIGHT.--A THOUGHT.--THE STUDENT RE-SEEKS THE
RUFFIAN.--A HUMAN FEELING EVEN IN THE WORST SOIL.
Clem. 'Tis our last interview!
Stat. Pray Heav'n it be.
--Clemanthes.
On leaving Lord _____'s, Aram proceeded, with a lighter and more rapid
step, towards a less courtly quarter of the metropolis.
He had found, on arriving in London, that in order to secure the annual
sum promised to Houseman, it had been necessary to strip himself even of
the small stipend he had hoped to retain. And hence his visit, and hence
his petition to Lord--. He now bent his way to the spot in which Houseman
had appointed their meeting. To the fastidious reader these details of
pecuniary matters, so trivial in themselves, may be a little wearisome,
and may seem a little undignified; but we are writing a romance of real
life, and the reader must take what is homely with what may be more epic-
-the pettiness and the wants of the daily world, with its loftier sorrows
and its grander crimes. Besides, who knows how darkly just may be that
moral which shows us a nature originally high, a soul once all a-thirst
for truth, bowed (by what events?) to the manoeuvres and the lies of the
worldly hypocrite?
The night had now closed in, and its darkness was only relieved by the
wan lamps that vista'd the streets, and a few dim stars that struggled
through the reeking haze that curtained the great city. Aram had now
gained one of the bridges 'that arch the royal Thames,' and, in no time
dead to scenic attraction, he there paused for a moment, and looked along
the dark river that rushed below.
Oh, God! how many wild and stormy hearts have stilled themselves on that
spot, for one dread instant of thought--of calculation--of resolve--one
instant the last of life! Look at night along the course of that stately
river, how gloriously it seems to mock the passions of them that dwell
beside it;--Unchanged--unchanging--all around it quick death, and
troubled life; itself smiling up to the grey stars, and singing from its
deep heart as it bounds along. Beside it is the Senate, proud of its
solemn triflers, and there the cloistered Tomb, in which as the loftiest
honour, some handful of the fiercest of the strugglers may gain
forgetfulness and a grave! There is no moral to a great city like the
River that washes its walls.
There was something in the view before him, that suggested reflections
similar to these, to the strange and mysterious breast of the lingering
Student. A solemn dejection crept over him, a warning voice sounded on
his ear, the fearful Genius within him was aroused, and even in the
moment when his triumph seemed complete and his safety secured, he felt
it only as
"The torrent's smoothness ere it dash below."
The mist obscured and saddened the few lights scattered on either side
the water. And a deep and gloomy quiet brooded round;
"The very houses seemed asleep,
And all that mighty heart was lying still."
Arousing himself from his short and sombre reverie, Aram resumed his way,
and threading some of the smaller streets on the opposite side of the
water, arrived at last in the street in which he was to seek Houseman.
It was a narrow and dark lane, and seemed altogether of a suspicious and
disreputable locality. One or two samples of the lowest description of
alehouses broke the dark silence of the spot;--from them streamed the
only lights which assisted the single lamp that burned at the entrance of
the alley; and bursts of drunken laughter and obscene merriment broke out
every now and then from these wretched theatres of Pleasure As Aram
passed one of them, a crowd of the lowest order of ruffian and harlot
issued noisily from the door, and suddenly obstructed his way; through
this vile press reeking with the stamp and odour of the most repellent
character of vice was the lofty and cold Student to force his path! The
darkness, his quick step, his downcast head, favoured his escape through
the unhallowed throng, and he now stood opposite the door of a small and
narrow house. A ponderous knocker adorned the door, which seemed of
uncommon strength, being thickly studded with large nails. He knocked
twice before his summons was answered, and then a voice from within,
cried, "Who's there? What want you?"
"I seek one called Houseman."
No answer was returned--some moments elapsed. Again the Student knocked,
and presently he heard the voice of Houseman himself call out, "Who's
there--Joe the Cracksman?"
"Richard Houseman, it is I," answered Aram, in a deep tone, and
suppressing the natural feelings of loathing and abhorrence.
Houseman uttered a quick exclamation; the door was hastily unbarred All
within was utterly dark; but Aram felt with a thrill of repugnance, the
gripe of his strange acquaintance on his hand.
"Ha! it is you!--Come in, come in!--let me lead you. Have a care--cling
to the wall--the right hand--now then--stay. So--so"--(opening the door
of a room, in which a single candle, wellnigh in its socket, broke on the
previous darkness;) "here we are! here we are! And, how goes it--eh!"
Houseman, now bustling about, did the honours of his apartment with a
sort of complacent hospitality. He drew two rough wooden chairs, that in
some late merriment seemed to have been upset, and lay, cumbering the
unwashed and carpetless floor, in a position exactly contrary to that
destined them by their maker;--he drew these chairs near a table strewed
with drinking horns, half-emptied bottles, and a pack of cards. Dingy
caricatures of the large coarse fashion of the day, decorated the walls;
and carelessly thrown on another table, lay a pair of huge horse-pistols,
an immense shovel hat, a false moustache, a rouge-pot, and a riding-whip.
All this the Student comprehended with a rapid glance--his lip quivered
for a moment--whether with shame or scorn of himself, and then throwing
himself on the chair Houseman had set for him, he said, "I have come to
discharge my part of our agreement."
"You are most welcome," replied Houseman, with that tone of coarse, yet
flippant jocularity, which afforded to the mien and manner of Aram a
still stronger contrast than his more unrelieved brutality.
"There," said Aram, giving him a paper; "there you will perceive that the
sum mentioned is secured to you, the moment you quit this country. When
shall that be? Let me entreat haste."
"Your prayer shall be granted. Before day-break to-morrow, I will be on
the road."
Aram's face brightened.
"There is my hand upon it," said Houseman, earnestly. "You may now rest
assured that you are free of me for life. Go home--marry--enjoy your
existence--as I have done. Within four days, if the wind set fair, I am
in France."
"My business is done; I will believe you," said Aram, frankly, and
rising.
"You may," answered Houseman. "Stay--I will light you to the door. Devil
and death--how the d--d candle flickers."
Across the gloomy passage, as the candle now flared--and now was dulled--
by quick fits and starts,--Houseman, after this brief conference,
reconducted the Student. And as Aram turned from the door, he flung his
arms wildly aloft, and exclaimed in the voice of one, from whose heart a
load is lifted--"Now, now, for Madeline. I breathe freely at last."
Meanwhile, Houseman turned musingly back, and regained his room,
muttering, "Yes--yes--my business here is also done! Competence and
safety abroad--after all, what a bugbear is this conscience!--fourteen
years have rolled away--and lo! nothing discovered! nothing known! And
easy circumstances--the very consequence of the deed--wait the remainder
of my days:--my child, too--my Jane--shall not want--shall not be a
beggar nor a harlot."
So musing, Houseman threw himself contentedly on the chair, and the last
flicker of the expiring light, as it played upward on his rugged
countenance--rested on one of those self-hugging smiles, with which a
sanguine man contemplates a satisfactory future.
He had not been long alone, before the door opened; and a woman with a
light in her hand appeared. She was evidently intoxicated, and approached
Houseman with a reeling and unsteady step.
"How now, Bess? drunk as usual. Get to bed, you she shark, go!"
"Tush, man, tush! don't talk to your betters," said the woman, sinking
into a chair; and her situation, disgusting as it was, could not conceal
the rare, though somewhat coarse beauty of her face and person.
Even Houseman, (his heart being opened, as it were, by the cheering
prospects of which his soliloquy had indulged the contemplation,) was
sensible of the effect of the mere physical attraction, and drawing his
chair closer to her, he said in a tone less harsh than usual.
"Come, Bess, come, you must correct that d--d habit of yours; perhaps I
may make a lady of you after all. What if I were to let you take a trip
with me to France, old girl, eh? and let you set off that handsome face,
for you are devilish handsome, and that's the truth of it, with some of
the French gewgaws you women love. What if. I were? would you be a good
girl, eh?"
"I think I would, Dick,--I think I would," replied the woman, showing a
set of teeth as white as ivory, with pleasure partly at the flattery,
partly at the proposition: "you are a good fellow, Dick, that you are."
"Humph!" said Houseman, whose hard, shrewd mind was not easily cajoled,
"but what's that paper in your bosom, Bess? a love-letter, I'll swear."
"'Tis to you then; came to you this morning, only somehow or other, I
forgot to give it you till now!"
"Ha! a letter to me?" said Houseman, seizing the epistle in question.
"Hem! the Knaresbro' postmark--my mother-in-law's crabbed hand, too! what
can the old crone want?"
He opened the letter, and hastily scanning its contents, started up.
"Mercy, mercy!" cried he, "my child is ill, dying. I may never see her
again,--my only child,--the only thing that loves me,--that does not
loath me as a villain!"
"Heyday, Dicky!" said the woman, clinging to him, "don't take on so, who
so fond of you as me?--what's a brat like that!"
"Curse on you, hag!" exclaimed Houseman, dashing her to the ground with a
rude brutality, "you love me! Pah! My child,--my little Jane,--my pretty
Jane,--my merry Jane,--my innocent Jane--I will seek her instantly--
instantly; what's money? what's ease,--if--if--" And the father, wretch,
ruffian as he was, stung to the core of that last redeeming feeling of
his dissolute nature, struck his breast with his clenched hand, and
rushed from the room--from the house.