The Goldsmith Comes to Town the Second Time.
Tresco stood in the yellow light of the paraffin lamp, and gazed in
wonderment at Gentle Annie. He was a tattered and mournful object; his
boots worn out, his trousers a marvel of patchwork, his coat a thing
discoloured and torn, his hair and beard unshorn, himself a being
unrecognisable by his former friends.
Gentle Annie's attitude betokened the greatest surprise. With her hands
on her bosom, her lips parted, her cheeks pale, her eyes frightened, she
stood, and timidly returned the gaze of the strange man before her.
"What do you want?" she asked, so soon as she could find her voice. "Why
do you come here?"
"Don't be alarmed," said Benjamin reassuringly. "First, let me tell you
that I'm your friend and protector. Do you forget Tresco the goldsmith?"
Gentle Annie gave vent to a little cry of astonishment.
"I am an outlaw,"--he spoke as if he were defending himself before his
peers--"an outcast, a hunted dog. My own house is unsafe, so I came here
for protection and a little comfort." He dropped suddenly into quite a
sentimental tone of voice. "I haven't spoken to a soul, save my lad, for
over six weeks. I'm a bit lonesome and miserable; and I badly need a
well-cooked meal."
"But if you stop here"--Gentle Annie's ample bust rose and fell with
agitation--"the police will catch you."
"They'd think of looking for me in the moon before they came here, my
dear; besides I have no intention of stopping. I only want rest and
food."
"I'll do what I can for you, but you must go almost directly."
"Why, certainly." Tresco sat down, and drew a deep breath. "It's good to
look at a wholesome woman again--it seems years since I saw one."
A smile passed over Gentle Annie's face, and her eyes twinkled with
merriment. "I see you're not cured of your old weakness," she said.
"No, my dear; and I hope I never shall be." Benjamin had rallied from
his depression. "On the contrary, it increases."
They were a strange couple--the wild-looking man on one side of the
table, and the fine figure of a woman who emitted a faint odour of
patchouli, on the other.
"I suppose you know I'm my own mistress now."
"It looks like it. I understood something of the kind from Jake."
"I objected to be pulled about indiscriminately, so I left The Lucky
Digger. A rough brute cut my arm with a broken glass." She rolled up her
sleeve, and showed the scar of the newly-healed wound.
Benjamin took the soft, white arm in his hand, and gave it just the
suspicion of a squeeze.
"I wish I'd bin there, my dear: I'd ha' chucked him through the window."
"Mr. Scarlett--who has been so lucky on the diggings--kicked him out of
the house on to the pavement."
"Ah! but did he do the thing properly, scientifically?"
"I think so. And when he found the boss blaming me for the row, he
turned on him like a tiger. But afterwards old Townson gave me the
office, so I've retired into private life. Do you like my rooms?"
"A trifle small, don't you think?" said Benjamin.
"Cozy."
"My dear, where you are it can't help being cozy."
"After that I'll get you something to eat. What do you say to grilled
steak and onions?"
"Delicious! Couldn't be better."
Gentle Annie bustled out to the safe, at the back of the house, and
returned with a dish of red and juicy meat.
"And to follow, you shall have stewed plums and cream."
"Better than ever," said Benjamin; his mouth watering behind his ragged
beard.
"I believe I understand mankind," said Gentle Annie, going to a
cupboard, whence she took a big bottle, which she placed on the table.
"If all the women in the world understood men as you do, my dear, we
should have Arcadia here, instead of Gehennum."
"Instead of what?"
"Gehennum, my dear; a place where they drive men into the wilderness and
cut them off from supplies, and they rot in damp caves, destitute of
bread, beer, and even tobacco."
"No; I really can't supply that last. If I let you smoke, some old cat
would come sniffing round to-morrow morning, and say, 'Phew! a _man_ has
been here.' Good food and drink you shall have, but no tobacco."
"But you'll let me wash?"
"Certainly. Cleanliness is next to godliness. If you can't have the one,
I wouldn't bar you from the other." She led him to the door of her
bedroom, and said, "Walk in."
The room was a dainty affair of muslin blinds and bed-hangings. To
Benjamin it was a holy of holies dedicated to the sweet, the lovely,
the inscrutable. All the feminine gear lying around, the little pots of
powder and ointment, the strange medicaments for the hair, the mirrors,
the row of little shoes, the bits of jewellery lying on fat pincushions,
the skirts and wrappers and feminine finery hanging behind the door,
these and fifty other things appealed to the softest spot in his
susceptible nature. He took up the ewer, and poured water into the
basin; but he was ashamed to place his dirty coat on a thing so clean
as was the solitary dimity-covered chair, so he put the ragged garment
on the floor. Then he took up a pink cake of soap, and commenced his
ablutions.
A strong and agreeable odour tickled his olfactory nerves--the cooking
had begun. Though his ears were full of lather, he could hear the meat
frying in the pan, and the spluttering of the fat.
"What punishment do they give to people who harbour malefactors?" Gentle
Annie called from over her cooking.
"Who's a malefactor?" called Tresco from the middle of a towel with
which he was drying his roseate face.
"What are _you_ then?"
"I'm a gentleman at large, my dear. No one has charged me with anything
yet, let alone convicted me."
"But there's a warrant out against you, old gentleman."
"Maybe. I haven't seen it."
"But what's _my_ position?"
"You're accessory after the fact, if there is a fact."
"What am I liable for?"
"That depends on the judge, my dear. It might be two, three, or more
kisses. If I was on the bench, the sentence would be as heavy as
possible, and I'd insist on executing it myself."
A laugh came from over the frying-pan.
"If you're not careful, old party, you'll have some of this hot fat on
your head."
Benjamin had finished his toilette, and walked into the other room.
The small, square table was spread with a white cloth, and a place was
set for one.
"But, my dear, won't you partake?" said Benjamin, eyeing the arrangement
of the table.
"I'm not hungry," the girl replied. "I'll watch the lion feed."
The little room was filled with the smell of cooked viands, and Tresco
seated himself in readiness to eat.
The smoking steak, garnished with fried onions and potatoes, was placed
before him.
"For what I am about to receive, my dear, I thank you." Gently squeezing
the ex-bar-maid's hand, he kissed it.
"Now, that'll do. You're getting giddy in your old age--it must be the
effect of the steak. Cupboard love, cupboard love!"
Tresco drew the cork of the big bottle, which he handed to Gentle Annie.
"What's this for?" she asked.
"You pour it out, my dear. It'll make it taste so much sweeter."
"You gay old deceiver: you're like the rest of them."
"No, my dear: they're imitation; I'm the genuine article."
Gentle Annie filled his tall glass deftly, so that the froth stood in a
dome over the liquor. She was about to replace the bottle on the table,
when Tresco took a tumbler from the dresser, and filled it for her.
"Keep me company," he said. "It looks more comfortable."
"But stout's so fattening."
"My dear, a lean woman is a reproach to her sex."
"Then, what's a fat one?"
"A credit, like I am to mine, or used to be before I got thin through
semi-starvation. Here's to your very good health; may your beauty never
grow less." Benjamin raised his glass to his lips.
"More flattery." Gentle Annie's comfortable laugh shook her whole body.
"I'm sorry I can't return the compliment."
"You do better: you supply the inner man--steak, done to a turn; stout;
sweet stuffs. You couldn't have treated me better, if I'd been a
bishop."
"Why a bishop?"
"I've looked round, and taken stock of my fellows; and I think a bishop
has a rousing good time, don't you?"
"I can't say; I don't often entertain bishops."
"Bishops and licensed victuallers; I think they get the cream of life."
"But what about lords and dukes?"
"They have to pay through the nose for all they get, but bishops and
landlords get all their good things chucked in gratuitous. Of course a
bishop's more toney, but a publican sees more of life--honours, meaning
good tucker and liquor, divided."
Tresco attacked the juicy steak: his satisfaction finding expression in
murmurs of approval. He finished the stout with as much relish as if it
had been the richest wine; and then Gentle Annie took from the cupboard
two glass dishes, the one half-filled with luscious red plums swimming
in their own juice, the other containing junket.
Tresco had almost forgotten the taste of such food. While he was eating
it Gentle Annie made some tea.
"Is this the way you treat the toffs, when they come to see you?"
"Toffs? You're the greatest toff that has come to see me, so far."
"I shall come again."
"Do you know there's a reward offered for you?"
"How much?"
"Twenty pounds."
"Is that all? I'll give it you, my dear."
From his dirty rags he pulled out a small linen bag, from which he
emptied upon a clean plate a little pile of nuggets.
Gentle Annie was lost in wonderment. Her eyes glistened, and she turned
the pieces of gold over with her finger covetously.
"These should go close on L4 to the ounce," remarked the goldsmith, as
he separated with the blade of a table-knife a portion of the gold
equal to what he guessed to be five ounces, and the remainder he
replaced in the bag.
"That's for you," he said, pushing the plate towards her.
Gentle Annie gleefully took the gold in her hands.
"You generous old party!" she exclaimed. "I know when I am well off."
They now drank tea out of dainty cups, and Benjamin took a pipe and
tobacco from his pocket.
"I really must have a smoke to settle my dinner," he said.
"Of course," said she; "it was only my fun. I smoke myself." Taking a
packet from the mantelpiece, she lighted a cigarette, which she handed
to Tresco, when a low knock was heard at the door.
In a moment she had blown out the light, and led the erring goldsmith to
her inner room, where he stood, apprehensive but alert. From his belt he
drew a knife, and then he furtively examined the fastenings of the
muslin-draped window.
He heard his hostess open the door and speak to her visitor, who replied
in a deep voice, at some length. But, presently, the door closed, the
steps of the visitor were heard departing, and Gentle Annie softly
entered the room.
"You're quite safe," she said.
"Who was it?"
"Only a friend of mine. He's gone. He won't call again to-night."