"Matches? shoe-lacings? buttons? only a penny a dozen, ma'am!" and the
foot-sore woman presses her face to the basement windows, and holds up
her wares with a strange pertinacity, even though the mistress of the
mansion shakes her head many times, saying, "not to-day;" and turns to
discuss some trifling subject as if there were not starvation and misery
in the tones that are dying upon her ear. Heart-sick and desponding, the
poor woman turns away, and renews her entreaties at the next neighbor's,
perchance to be spurned again and again; for the cosy tea-hour has
arrived, and husband and children are all gathered around the
well-spread board, and it is annoying to be disturbed by beggars, now.
The pleading voice, and scanty raiment, and woe-begone expression, jar
sadly upon the glad home-circle that is teeming with content, and
plenty, and cheerfulness, and it is easier to send such forlornities
off, and trouble yourself no more about them, than to break away from
your own beloved and blessed ones to inquire into their condition with a
view to comfort and relieve.
"For the love of heaven will ye buy something, sir," says the
half-frantic creature, addressing a benevolent-looking gentleman who had
cast a pitying glance upon her. The stars are hidden by dense black
clouds which every moment threaten to pour out their fury upon the
earth, and the quick tread of the people seeking the shelter of their
homes awakens the wretched woman to a last effort, and she touches the
arm of the stranger in her eagerness to secure his attention. "I have
sold nothing this day, sir, and the two children at home waiting for the
morsel that I have not to carry them--oh! buy something, sir, and the
blessing of the poor be with ye!"
"Where do you live, my good woman?" asked the gentleman, half inclined
to doubt her. He has so often been deceived by tales of sorrow and want
which had no foundation; yet there is something in the present case that
banishes his suspicions, and he follows her as she designates her abode.
She hesitates, as they near the spot, for fear her husband would be at
home in one of his abusive moods, for her woman's heart would fain cover
up even her bloated and loathsome husband with its loving and forgiving
mantle.
Was it best to tell him, or to persist in her obstinacy, and lose the
chance of supplying her children's need? A mother's affection prevails,
and with a sigh, she descends the steps, and opens the door of her
miserable dwelling. Her husband has not returned--that is well; but what
is the matter with Nannie? Leaning over her cradle and sobbing as if her
heart will break, the girl sits, while the darkness and want are only
made the more visible by a small bit of an offensive tallow candle that
is stuck in a potatoe for a candlestick.
"Is it the child that is sick, my girl, or what has come over ye that ye
moan and take on in that manner?" said the woman, advancing and holding
the candle close to the infant's face--then perceiving that nothing
ailed the babe, and supposing that the father might be the cause of the
girl's grief, she said no more about it; but bade Nannie hand the stool
to the gentleman who was standing with his back to the door while the
poor woman scrutinized the child.
"And is this your home?" asked he, glancing around the damp, unwholesome
apartment, and shivering even in the middle of the month of August.
"Have you no husband, and do you depend upon what you sell daily from
this basket for your living?"
If she told him that she had a husband, he would question her, and find
out his degradation; therefore she said she was a widow, turning around
to cross herself as she muttered softly, "the Lord forgive me the lie!"
"You must be but lately a widow," added he, looking at the tiny baby
before him.
"Faith, sir, ye must pardon me, an' I will tell ye all, since it's ye
would be taking the trouble to inquire of a poor body like me. Jim's
been enticed away by bad companions until it's every thing we had has
been pawned for spirits, and how could I tell ye 'twas my own husband
that was once so good and kind to me, and he not so much to blame as
the poor wretches that deal out to him the dreadful stuff!" and the
afflicted woman hid her face against the wall and wept for very shame
that the stranger should know her husband's folly. She was interrupted
in her grief by the object of it, who stumbled into the room, kicking at
the cradle-rockers as he came near tripping over them, and doubling up
his fists with a show of fight as his eye fell upon the stranger.
"Isn't it m'own house I'm in, Molly?" said he, "and what business have
you t' be taking in lodgers, and me the masther here!" and with that he
made a dive at the gentleman, who arose and stepped quietly aside.
"Oh! Jim," said the woman, "'tis a kind friend who is afther helping us,
when I could sell nothing the day."
"Who talks of help? A'nt I able t' s'port m'own fam'ly, I'd like t'
know?" muttered the drunken wretch, as he fell a loathsome heap upon the
straw in the corner of the room.
The stranger gave a compassionate glance at the wife, who seemed ready
to sink from mortification and sorrow, and putting some money into her
hand for their present necessities, called Nannie to him, and looked
steadily into her face one minute, and left without a word. The girl was
in his mind, though, as he took the way to his solitary lodgings--for
Mr. Bond was a bachelor.
She was not pretty, nor very prepossessing; but her expression showed
depth and character, and she was worthy a better training. At any rate
she must not be left to the tender mercies of that brutal man. He will
help her to make her way in the world, not by a mistaken charity, but by
teaching her self-reliance. She must be looked after. If Betty Lathrop
had not been taken from him so early in life, there might have been a
"Nannie Bond" to care for and teach, and perhaps Providence meant this
for his charitable and acceptable labor. And Mr. Bond rubbed his great
hands together, and sprang up the stairs to his chamber with a boyish
step and a light heart. He had found something to do.