IN LIVERPOOL.
NEXT day, Janet sent for a broker, and pointed out to him such articles
of furniture as Fred had told her belonged to him. She was in the midst
of making her bargain when, to her surprise, in came Mrs. Rayburn, who
had not left her room for many days.
"Betty told me, my dear, that Mr. Pitman was here; so I guessed it was
about your piano, and I crept in, for I may as well dispose of my few
things at the same time."
And, turning to Mr. Pitman, she proceeded to point out what she
claimed. It was not very much, but it was nearly all that Janet had
been speaking about, and the poor girl reddened when she found Pitman
looking doubtfully at her. She said—
"I did not know, grandma, that these things were yours. We thought they
were ours."
"Oh, my dear, the things my kind husband bought for me? But say no
more; I know you have always had them as your own, and it was stupid of
me to—"
"No, no; I only spoke lest Mr. Pitman might think I had known it
before."
The business was soon settled, and a van carried off all the Rayburns'
share of the furniture. Very bare the parlour looked, and Fred cried
for his "pitty cot," when laid to sleep in his mother's bed. Frank, old
enough to be frightened at his mother's sad face, made no plaint about
anything, but ran with messages and helped her with all his might.
Their few belongings were soon packed, and all, save one box, sent off
to Liverpool by goods train. Janet paid up her household bills for the
last week, and then everything was done. She had no one to say farewell
to save Mrs. Rayburn; her own father and mother had died since her
marriage, and her only brother had emigrated. Janet had always been a
home-keeping woman, and had no very intimate friends.
"What shall you do, grandma?" she asked. "Where will you live till you
hear of a place?"
"I shall stay here, dear, until I'm turned out; then my sister-in-law
will take me in for a few days."
"You'll write and tell me what you hear from Lord Beaucourt, won't you?
Indeed I hope he will be kind to you. I have been so hurried that I
hardly seem to feel things yet; but indeed I am very, very sorry for
you. It is so hard on you."
"It is indeed. But Lord Beaucourt is one who never forgets them who
have served him well, and my mother was his confidential housekeeper—no
common servant; more like a friend, you know—for many years, and his
lordship was always most kind to me. Of course, I shall write, and you
must write to me. How I shall miss you, dear, and my darling boys!
There's some one at the door, Janet."
"Come in," Janet called out wearily.
And in came Mr. Frank Hopper.
"Good evening, Mrs. Rayburn," he said, as she rose to meet him. The
elder woman was sitting in the shadow of the window curtain, and he did
not see her.
"This is a sad business, Mrs. Rayburn. I am sorry to hear that Rayburn
has gone away. It struck me that you might be in difficulties, and that
I had better see you."
"Of course we are in difficulties, Mr. Frank."
"Yes—but I want—I meant—in a word, Mrs. Rayburn, do you know where your
husband has gone, and—are you to join him?"
"Why, certainly I am," Janet said angrily. "Oh, Mr. Frank, how could
you think that Fred would desert me and the children?"
"It looked so bad, his going off in this way. I was afraid there might
be—debts, you know. I wished, if possible, to help you."
"No, Mr. Hopper, you cannot help me. I have money to keep us until we
go out to Fred; I could not take help from you. I think you have been
very hard on my husband. I am an ignorant woman, and perhaps ought not
to say this; but it seems to me that you have been very, very hard on
him."
"You mean in dismissing him? But he knew the rules, and knew that we
never depart from them. But I don't want to talk of that. Where's my
little namesake? I have a present here for him."
"Not for him; we will not accept help from you under any names, Mr.
Frank."
"Well, I would help you if I could," the young man said quietly; "but I
understand and respect your feelings. Business men have to be guided by
rules that seem harsh to women, I am sure. Only remember, if you ever
feel that there is anything I can do, you have my address. It will give
me real pleasure to help you, Mrs. Rayburn."
He bowed and withdrew, and old Mrs. Rayburn gave young Mrs. Rayburn a
lecture for being so proud and so foolish.
"I cannot help it," Janet said. "Did you remark how it was all that
he wished to help me; not a word of kindness for Fred, who has worked
under him so long? No, I will not put up with that sort of kindness."
Janet had never left Hemsborough except to go to school in a small town
not ten miles off, so the journey to Liverpool was quite a formidable
undertaking for her. But she had plenty of commonsense, and managed
very well. She and her boys reached the Ship Hotel in safety. And now
there was nothing to do but to wait.
Waiting is always weary work, and poor Janet was anxious about her
husband and uneasy about her boys. Accustomed to play about the big
brewery yards and sheds, where every one knew them and took more or
less care of them, the boys fretted if she kept them in her room in the
hotel; and yet the street and the adjoining quays did not seem a safe
playground for them. The hotel was very small, very crowded and noisy,
and by no means cheap. However, Janet lived as cheaply as she could;
and at last a letter came.
Fred wrote from New York, not, as she had hoped, from Halifax, for she
had wished him to go there to be nearer to her brother. He had as yet
failed to get permanent employment. He could just live, and that was
all. People told him that he was not likely to get good employment
in New York. Yet what could he do? He had not funds now to go to her
brother in British Columbia, and he feared it would be some time before
he could save enough. She must husband her money, and stay in England
for a while, for if she came to him now, what he feared was, that they
would sink into the class that just lives from hand to mouth, and that
the boys would get no education. She was to write to him at once, for
he longed to hear of her and the boys. Frank and Fred must not forget
him.
Janet thought long and deeply over this letter, and the immediate
result of her meditations was that she wrote to Mr. Frank Hopper. Poor
Janet! She felt very reluctant to do it.
"Ship Hotel, Guelph Street, Liverpool.
"DEAR SIR,
"You were kind enough to say that you would help me if you could. Will
you give me a few lines which I may show to any one here to whom I may
apply for work? I am quite unknown here, and my husband and I have
decided that it is better for me not to join him just yet. I think he
will most likely go after a time to my brother in British Columbia, and
there is no use in my going out till I can go there direct. I am a very
good dressmaker, and wish to find work in order to help my husband.
"Your obedient servant,
"JANET RAYBURN."
Mr. Hopper at once sent her a letter which answered her purpose. She
was fortunate enough to get employment in the cutting-out department of
a great shop in Bold Street, where she gave such satisfaction that she
was told that she should be the head of the department when the lady
now over it married, which she was about to do soon. She was free at
about seven o'clock, and might be free rather earlier in winter.
She sent the boys to a little preparatory school in the street in which
she now lodged, Frank to learn, and Fred to be safe; and the servant at
the lodgings undertook to give them their dinner when they came home,
and on fine days to let them play in what she (perhaps satirically)
called the garden, and generally to keep a watch upon them. Then she
was able to write to Fred to say that she had got employment which,
with the few pounds she kept, would support her and the boys for a
time; and she sent him all the rest of the money she still had, urging
him to go to her brother Gilbert, and "not to be longer about sending
for her than he could help, for she felt very sad without him."
Poor Janet! She would not have admitted to any one, even to herself,
that she in the least distrusted her husband. Yet, in doing this, she
was unconsciously influenced by a touch of distrust. She felt that if
she kept money enough to take her and the boys out, maybe Fred would
go on just keeping himself; he had never taken kindly to steady, dull
work, and this kind of life might have some strange attraction for him.
Whereas, if he knew that she was working hard, and that he must send
her the passage-money, he would certainly feel quite differently. As
for herself and the children, she had no fears. God would take care of
them.
But God's ways are not our ways; and Janet's simple faith was to be
sorely tried. And it stood the trial, because it was simple and humble.
When things happened that she did not expect, Janet did not forthwith
conclude that God had forgotten His promises; she concluded that she
had not fully understood them.
The summer was now past, and the winter was a severe one. Liverpool
is a very cold place, too, and Janet felt it herself, though she did
not actually suffer in health. But the children caught cold again and
again. They would creep back to their rather dreary home when school
was over, with their little overcoats unbuttoned, and their warm
comforters forgotten. After a time, Janet succeeded in teaching Frank
that it was his duty to take care of Fred, and of himself too, because
it made poor "muddie" so wretched to see them ill. From that time,
Frank remembered; and it was touching to see the tender, protecting
care he took of little Fred, who really suffered far less from cold
than did Frank himself. Frank grew tall and thin and white, but he
never complained, for "poor muddie would be sorry, if she knew how his
bones pained him."
Looking back upon that time in Liverpool, it always seemed to Janet
very long, yet it really lasted but a few months. She heard regularly
from her husband, and he wrote in good spirits. He had set out to join
Gilbert Gray, but, having reached a town called New Durham, in British
Columbia, he fell in with an acquaintance who was in business there,
and who had put him up to one or two very good things; he would soon
be quite independent. In sending him that money she had, he thought,
laid the foundation of a fine fortune; but he would send her the
passage-money very soon now.
All this made Janet uneasy, she knew not why. She felt a little uneasy,
too, about grandma, as Mrs. Rayburn had for years been called in the
old Gatehouse, for she had never heard from her since they parted,
though she had written to her. However, in the spring she had a letter
from her.
"Kelmersdale Castle, near Rugeley.
"MY DEAR JANET,
"I am afraid you are thinking me very unkind, getting letters
from you and never writing to you; but you will understand how this
happened, when I tell you how I have been knocked about. I am glad
you have found work that suits you, but, in your place, I would have
gone after Fred at once. I love him like a mother, but, after what
happened, I think him weak, and I hardly expect now that you will
ever get out to him. You ought to have left the children in England
and gone after Fred. No risk in leaving them for a time; any one would
be kind to those darlings. But I suppose it is too late now, as you
parted with the money.
"As for me, a letter from my lord came the day after you went
away, offering me my choice of two situations, matron of a big
orphanage near Stafford, or housekeeper at Kelmersdale Castle.
The matronship was the best pay, so I took it. But, my health being
so feeble, I found the work too much, and after my little darlings,
Frank and Fred, the children seemed a dreadful lot, and after a few
weeks, I wrote to my lord to say my health would not stand it, and that
if the other place was still open, I would prefer it. I am thankful
to say my lord had not been able to suit himself, so I came to the
Castle, and I just wish I had the dear boys here, with such places
to play about, and every comfort.
"The place is very old, and was once besieged. I am learning all
the history off by heart, for many a shilling can be got by showing
visitors over the Castle in summer. My lord never lives here long, but
comes on business or for the shooting. The living rooms are small, with
thick walls and little windows high up. My rooms are very comfortable,
and I have servants under me, and am to see all kept in order; the
armour, and old pictures and furniture. But, except just when the earl
is here, I have little to do but to amuse myself like any grand lady.
The salary is small, or I should send you a present, as well I might
after all your kindness to me, which I can never forget. I hope the
darling boys have not forgotten grandma. I seem to hear Frank calling
me, dear little rogue. Some day you must all come and pay me a visit;
I know my lord will give leave.
"You say the boys go to school, but in the summer holidays they
might be glad of a change. But take my advice and get after Fred
as soon as you can; don't lose your hold over him, it will be the ruin
of him.
"Ever your affectionate mother,
"LYDIA RAYBURN."
"Oh, I wish people would not say things like this to me!" cried Janet,
unconscious that no one had said anything to her about her husband
except Mrs. Rayburn and her own anxious, loving heart.
Mrs. Lydia Rayburn little thought when she penned that letter, so full
of patronizing kindness, what the effect of her words would be; for
simpleminded Janet believed that she meant every word most sincerely.
She sent the letter on to Fred, and said to the two children, "How fond
grandma is of you both, boys!"
To which Frank replied thoughtfully, "Is she, muddie?"
Soon after this Fred failed to write for some weeks, and Janet was
getting seriously uneasy, when she received a letter from her brother;
not one of his usual brief epistles, but a long, closely written letter
with a money order enclosed.
"Old Man's Ferry Farm, Gattigo, British Columbia.
"MY DEAR SISTER,
"I do not know whether what I must now tell you will be a surprise
and a shock to you or not. Of course, I could see that you were not
speaking out quite frankly about your husband and the loss of his good
place; not that I am blaming you, for he is your husband, and you are
bound to stick to him. You wrote me word that he was on his way to me,
and I laid out my plans for giving him and you a start here if I could.
But he did not turn up, and only ten days ago I got a letter from a
lawyer in New Durham—a rising new town a good way from us—enclosing a
letter from Rayburn.
"Not to make too long a story of it, your husband told me that he
had been on his way to me, five months ago, when at New Durham, he fell
in with an old friend, and went into some kind of business with him,
putting all the money he possessed into it. They seemed prosperous for
a time, and Rayburn declares that he did not know that the articles
they were selling were regular cheap locks and stoves and such things,
with good English names on them, which this fellow Turner had got made
out here, and not even of good materials. Of course, this could only
go on for a time—people here are no fools—and Turner must have found
out that he was suspected, for he made off with all he could get hold
of, and left Rayburn to bear the consequences. Rayburn had a narrow
escape of being roughly handled by a lot of fellows who had come to the
town together to have it out with Turner. In these half-settled places
people have a very short kind of justice, but he got away out of the
shop with a whole skin, and was taken up for the cheating. Then he told
the lawyer that he was my brother-in-law, and that I could speak for
him, and so they sent for me. I went, of course, and found him very
ill, I really think from fretting, for there is no doubt that he was
badly treated by Turner.
"They have not caught Turner, and now they will hardly do so;
and I think Rayburn will get off for want of evidence against him.
I would get him out on bail, but that he is so ill, that it is better
for him to keep quiet. When he is free, I shall take him home with me,
and Aimée will nurse him till he is all right again. And, if I find
it possible, I may still do what I was thinking of—start an hotel in
Gattigo to be supplied from my farm, and you and Rayburn to manage it.
If he had come direct to me, all would be easy. Now I fear it may be
a feeling against him, and in that case it would be risking money in
setting up the hotel, and it is a great pity, for he is the very man
for the place; he has such a pleasant manner. But there is no use in
crying over spilt milk. I wish he was not your husband, for, truth to
say, I do not like this business, though I cannot help liking him. And
I will do what I can for your husband.
"Now, Janet, the fact is, if you have as much good sense and good
principle as I believe you to have, you ought to come out by the next
boat, and join Rayburn, and not part with him again. In some way we
will find an opening for him, and with you beside him, and me at your
back—particularly now you are on your guard—he may yet do very well.
He is feather-headed, easily taken with anything new, and impatient of
slow gains. Rayburn says you are to send the boys to their grandmother,
who is sure to take good care of them, being very fond of them. He
desired me to say that on no account are you to bring them with you,
if Mrs. Rayburn will take them for a while, as he is very anxious that
they should never hear of his being in prison here. I think myself that
it would be better for you to come alone, and we will get them out as
soon as we know what you and Rayburn will do; but there may be no use
in your settling here, and it will be better to get them to the place
you finally decide upon, direct.
"I enclose money for your journey, and, on the other side of this
sheet, I will put down your exact best way, and all particulars I can
think of. Do not lose a boat, and come direct to Gattigo. Rayburn
will probably be here before you. The hotel plan, if still possible,
would be the best for him and for you; but, unless you are here, I
will not risk it. Besides, having you with him will make him seem more
dependable and respectable, and, you see, he has made a bad start, and
has a prejudice to get over. Do not think me unkind, though I know I
may seem so, because I am not used to much letter-writing, and do not
know how to wrap things up.
"My wife is just longing for you to come; there is not a woman she
cares about within many miles of us.
"Your affectionate brother,
"GILBERT GRAY."
Then followed the directions for her journey, which were so clear and
minute that a child could have followed them.
A year ago the idea of such a long lonely journey would have reduced
Janet to tears and misery; but she had learned to know her strength,
and it was not her own part in the matter that frightened her. Nor was
it the leaving the boys at Kelmersdale, for she had no doubt of their
well-being there, and had been thinking of asking grandma to take
them for a fortnight or so, as Frank would be the better for a change
of air. She had a brave heart and a childlike faith, and thought but
little of herself; but oh, what bitter tears she shed over that letter!
But she lost no time; in half an hour after the letter came, she was in
the office of the line of boats Gilbert had named, inquiring when the
next left Liverpool.
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