Reade_Very_Hard_Cash.txt topic ['13', '324', '378', '393']
PROLOGUE.
In a snowy vilTa, with a sloping lawn, just
outside the great commercial sea-port, Barking,
ton, there lived, a few years ago, a happy fam-
ily. A lady, middle-aged, but still charming ;
two young friends of hers; and a periodical
visitor.
The lady was Mrs. Dodd ; her occasional vis-
itor was her husband ; her friends were her son
Edward, aged twenty, and her daughter Julia,
nineteen ; the fruit of a misalliance.
Mrs. Dodd was originally Miss Fountain, a
young lady well-bom, high-bred, and a denizen
of the fashionable world. Under a strange con-
currence of circumstances she coolly married the
captain of an East Indiaman. The deed done,
and with her eyes open, for she was not, to say,
in love with him, she took a judicious line; and
kept it; no bankering after Mayfair, no talking
about Lord "This" and Lady "That," to com-
mercial gentlewomen ; no amphibiousness. She
accepted her place in society, reserving the right
to embellish it with the graces she had gathered
in a higher sphere; in her home, and in her
person, she was little less elegant than a count-
ess ; yet nothing more than a merchant-captain's
wife : and she reared that commander's children,
in a suburban villa, with the manners which
adorn a palace. When they happen to be there.
This lady had a bugbear : viz. Slang. She
could not endure the smart technicalities cur-
rent ; their multitude did not overpower her dis-
taste; she called them "jargon;" "slang" was
too coarse a word for her to apply to slang : she
excluded many a good " racy idiom" along with
the real offenders ; and monosyllables in general
ran some risk of having to show their passports.
If this was pedantry, it went no farther; she
was open, free, and youthful with her young
pupils ; and had the art to put herself on their
level; often, when they were quite young, she
would feign infantine ignorance, in order to hunt
trite truth in couples with them, and detect, by
joint experiment, that rainbows can not, or else
will not, be walked into, nor Jack-o'-lantern be
gathered like a cowslip; and that, dissect we the
vocal dog ^its hair is like a lamb's never so
skillfully, no fragment of palpable bark, no sedi-
ment of tangible squeak, remains inside him to '
bl ess Jt ie inquisitive little operator, etc., etc.
Wftn they advanced from these elementary
branches to Languages, History, Tapestry, and
"What Not," she managed still to keep by their
side, learning with them, not just hearing them
lessonrf down from the top of a high tower of
maternity. She never checked their curiosity,
but made herself share it ; never gave them, as
so many parents do, a white-lying answer; wooed
their affections with subtle though innocent art;
thawed their reserve; obtained their love, and
retained their respect. Briefly, a female Chester-
field ; her husband's lover after marriage, though
not before; and the mild monitress, the elder
sister, the favorite companion and bosom friend,
of both her children.
They were remarkably dissimilar; and per-
haps I may be allowed to preface the narrative
of their adventures by a delineation; as in cdun-
try churches an individual pipes the key-note,
and the tune comes raging after.
Edward, then, had a great calm eye, that was
always looking folk full in the face, mildly ; his
countenance comely and manly, but no more :
too square for Apollo; but sufficed for John
Bull. His figure it was that charmed the cu-
rious observer of male beauty : he was ^^i. ^'SftX.
ten ; \vad sqtiaie ftVvo\3\^t%, w^e^^ 2waaX.,Tsv%sfsa-
I line ftank, amaW ioo^ VyijScl Ss}l^. '^^ ^^^^^^
%
'^/BBJS^'
VERY HARD CASH.
11
THB PROFESSIONAL BOWLES WELCOMING THE NEW-COMES.
role, and began to calculate the cubic contents.
*ril torn to and make the cases, Ju."
The ladies had their way ; the cases were made
and dispatched ; and one morning the Bus came
for Edward, and stopped at the gate of Albion
Villa. At this sight mother and daughter both
turned their heads quickly away by one inde-
pendent impulse, and set a bad example. Ap-
parently neither of them had calculated on this
paltry little detail. They were game for theo-
retical departures; to impalpable universities;
and **an air-drawn Bus, a Bus of the mind,"
would not have dejected for a moment their lofty
Spartan souls on glory bent; safe glory. But
here was a Bus of wood, and Edward going bod-
ily away inside it.
The victim kissed them, threw up his port-
manteau and bag, and departed serene as Italian
skies. The victors watched the pitiless Bus quite
out of sight ; then went up to his bedroom, all
disordered by packing, and, on the very face of
it, Tacant ; and sat down on his little bed inter-
twining and weeping.
Edward was received at Exeter College, as
young gentlemen are received at college; and
nowhere else, I hope, for the credit of Christn-
dom. They Bhowed him a hole in the roof, and
called it an '^Atticf** grim. pleasantry I being a
puncture in the modem Athens. They inserted
him ; told him what hour at the top of the morn-
ing he must be in chapel ; and left him to find
out his other ills. His cases were welcomed like
Christians, by the whole staircase. These under-
graduates abused one another's crockery as their
own : the joint stock of breakables had just dwin-
dled very low, and Mrs. Dodd's bountiful contri-
bution was a godsend.
The new-comer soon found that his views of
a learned university had been narrow. Out of
place in it? why, he could not have taken his
wares to a better market; the modem Athens,
like the ancient, cultivates muscle as well as
mind. The captain of the university eleven saw
a cricket-ball thrown all across the ground ; he
instantly sent a professional bowler to find out
who that was ; through the same embassador the
thrower was invited to play on club days ; and
proving himself an infallible catch and long stop,
a mighty thrower, a swift runner, and a steady,
though not very brilliant, bat, he was, after one
or two repulses, actually adopted into the uni-
versity eleven. He communicated this ray of
glory by letter to his mother and sister with gen-
uine delight, coldly and clumsily expressed ; they
replied witb. Mgjaa^ wvdi ^wawX. t^\?ox^, feA-
vancing 8tea^\j in \)cvA.\\xi^ o1 wsafi^snivs. '^^'*^^''
^ toward wUc^ \i\a fe^m^3A^a.l.^^^ ^^ ^Vox^^
12
VERY HARD CASH.
race, and sent home a little silver hurdle ; and
soon after brought a pewter pot, with a Latin
inscription, recording the victory at "Fives" of
dw^ard Dodd; but not too arrogantly; for in
the centre of the pot was this device, * * STfie JLotTl
Ib mg Ulumfnatfon.'*
The Curate of Sandford, who pulled number
six in the Exeter boat, left Sandford for Witney :
on this he felt he could no longer do his college
justice by water, and his parish by land, nor es-
cape the charge of pluralism, preaching at Wit-
ney, and rowing at Oxford. He fluctuated,
sighed, kept his Witney, and laid down his oar.
Then Edward was solemnly weighed in his Jer-
sey and flannel trowsers by the crew, and proving
only eleven stone eight, w .ereas he had been un-
generously suspected of twelve stone, was elect-
ed to ^e vacant oar by acclamation. He was
a picture in a boat ; and oh ! ! ! well pulled, six ! ! I
was a hearty ejaculation constantly hurled at
him from the bank by many men of other col-
leges, and even by the more genial among the
cads, as the Exeter glided at ease down the river,
or shot up it in a race.
He was now as much talked of in the Uni-
versity as any man of his College, except one.
Singularly enough that one was his townsman;
but no friend of his: he was much Edward's
senior in standing, though not in age ; and this
is a barrier the junior must not step over with-
out direct encouragement at Oxford. More-
over the college was a large one, and some of
" the sets" very exclusive : young Hardie was
D^ge of a studious clique ; and careful to make
it understood that he was a reading man who
boated and cricketed, to avoid the fatigue of
lounging j not a boatman or cricketer who strayed
into Aristotle in the intervals of Perspiration.
His public running since he left Harrow was
as follows ; the prize poem in his fourth term ;
the sculls in his sixth ; the Ireland scholarship
in his eighth (he pulled second for it the year
before) ; Stroke of the Exeter in his tenth ; and
reckoned sure of a first class, to consummate his
two-fold career.
To this young Apollo, crowned with variegated
laurel, Edward looked up from a distance. The
brilliant creature never bestowed a word on him
by land ; and by water only such observations as
the following; "Time, Six!" "Well pulled,
Six!" "Very well pulled. Six!" Except, by-the-
by, in one race ; when he swore at him like a
trooper for not being quicker at starting. The
excitement of nearly being bumped by Brazenose
in the first hundred yards was an excuse ; how-
ever, Hardie apologized as they were dressing in
the barge after the race : but the apology was so
stifi; it did not pave the way to an acquaintance.
Young Hardie, rising twenty-one, thought no-
thing human worthy of reverence but Intellect.
Invited to dinner, on the same day, with the
Emperor of Russia, an(Lwith Voltaire, and with
meek St. John, he would certainly have told the
coachman to put him down at Voltaire.
His quick eye detected Edward's character;
but was not attracted by it : says he to one of
his adherents "what a good-natured spoon that
Dodd is I- Phoebus, what a name !" Edward, on
' lAff other hand, praised this Ifriltiant in all his
^^flsw^ and recorded his tnamphs and such of
Ag ^'ttjr Bayinga as leaked through his own set,
f JViaiigorate mankind. This roused Julia's
ire. It smouldered through three letters : but
burst out when there was no letter, but Mrs.
Dodd, meaning, Heaven knows, no harm, hap-
pened to say meekly, k propos of Edward, "Yon
know, love, we can not all be young Hardies."
"No, and thank Heaven," said Julia, defiantly.
" Yes, mamma," she continued in answer to Mrs.
Dodd's eyebrow, which had cur'ed; "your mild
glance reads my soul ; I detest that boy." Mrs.
Dodd smiled. "Are you sure you know what
the word * detest' means ? and what has young
Mr. Hardie done, that you should bestow so vio-
lent a sentiment on him ?"
"Mamma, I am Edward's sister," was the
tragic reply ; then, kicking ofl" the buskin pretty
nimbly, "there! he beats our boy at every
thing, and ours sits quietly down and admires
him for it : oh ! how can a man let any body or
any thing beat him? I wouldn't; without a
desperate struggle." She clenched her white
teeth and imagined the struggle. To be sure,
she Cloned she had never seen this Mr. Hardie,
but after all it was only Jane Hardie's brother,
as Edward was hers; "and would I sit down,
and let Jane beat me at Things ? never ! never !
never! I couldn't."
" Your friend to the death, dear ; was not that
your expression ?"
" Oh, that was a slip of the tongue, dear mam-
ma ; I was ofl^ my guard. I generally am, by-
the-way. But now I am on it, and propose an
amendment. Now I second it. Now I carry it."
"And now let me hear it."
" She is my friend till death or Eclipse ; and
that means until she eclipses me, of course." But
Julia added softly, and with sudden gravity;
"Ah ! Jane Hardie has a fault, which will always
prevent her from eclipsing your humble servant
in this wicked world."
VWhatisthat?"
" She is too good. Much."
"Par exemple!"
"Too religious."
" Oh, that is another matter."
"For shame, mamma! I am glad to hear
it : for, I scorn a life of frivolity, but then again
I should not like to give up every thing, you
know."
"Mrs. Dodd looked a little staggered, too, at
so vast a scheme or capitulation. But " every
thing" was soon explained to mean balls, con-
certs, dinner-parties in general, tea-parties with-
out exposition of Scripture, races and operas,
cards, charades, and whatever else amuses soci-
ety without perceptibly sanctifying it. All these,
by Julia's account. Miss Hardie had renounced,
and was now denouncing (with the young the
latter verb treads on the very heels of the for-
mer). "And, you know, she is a district vis-
itor!"
This climax delivered, Julia stppped short,
and awaited the result.
Mrs. Dodd heard it all with quiet disapproval
and cool incredulity. She had seen so many
young ladies healed of so many young enthu-
siasms, by a wedding-ring. But while she was
searching diligently in her mine of ladylike En-
glish mine with plenty of water in it, begging
her pardon ^for expressions to convey inoffens-
ively, and roundabout, her conviction that Miss
Hardie was a little, furious, simpleton, the post
came, and swept tW suVi^^cX. a'wa^ va. t iftQiaawt.
Two letters; one from Calcutta, one from
Oxford. They came quietly in upon one salver,
and were opened and read with pleasurable in-
terest, but without surprise, or misgiving; and
without the slightest foretaste of their grave and
singular consequences.
Bivers deep and broad start from such little
springs.
David's letter was of tmusual length for him.
The main topics were, first, the date and manner
of his return home. His ship, a very old one,
had been condemned in port : and he was to sail
a fine new teak-built vessel, the Agrck, as far as
the Cape ; where her captain, just recovered from
a severe illness, would come on board, and con-
vey her and him to England. In future, Dodd
was to command one of the company's large
steamers to Alexandria and back.
" It is rather a come-down for a sailor, to go
straight ahead like a wheel-barrow, in all weath-
ers, with a steam-pot and a crew of coal-heavers.
But then I shall not be parted from my sweet-
heart such long dreary spells as I have been this
twenty years, my dear love : so is it for me to
complain ?"
The second topic was pecuniary : the transfer
of their savings from India, where interest was
higher than at home, but the capital not so se-
cure.
And the third was ardent and tender expres-
sions of affection for the wife and children he
adored. These effusions of the heart had no
separate place, except in my somewhat arbitrary
analysis of the honest sailor's letter ; they were
the under-current.
Mrs. Dodd read part of it out to Julia ; in fact
all but the money-matter: that concerned the
heads of the family more immediately; and
Cash was a topic her daughter did not under-
stand, nor care about. And when Mrs. Dodd
had read it with glistening eyes, she kissed it
tenderly, and read it all over again to herself,
and then put it into her bosom as naively as a
milkmaid in love.
Edward's letter was short enough, and Mrs.
Dodd allowed Julia to read it to her, which she
did with panting breath, and glowing cheeks,
and a running fire of comments.
** ' Dear Mamma, I hope you and Ju are quite
well'
** Ju," murmured Mrs. Dodd, plaintively.
" 'And that there is good news about papa
coming home. As for me, I have plentjr on my
hands just now; all this term I have been'
( * training' scratched out, and another word put
in : c r oh, I know) * cramming.' "
** Cramming, love ?"
"Yes, that is the Oxfordish for studying."
"'For smalls.'"
Mrs. Dodd contrived to sigh interrogatively.
Julia, who understood her every accent, remind-
ed her that "smalls" was the new word for "lit-
tle go."
" * Cramming for smalls ; and now I am in
two races at Henley, and that rather puts the
snaffle on reading and gooseberry pie' (Goodness
me), ' and adds to my chance of being plowed
for smalls.'"
. " What does it a^ mean ?" inquired mamtna,
" ' gooseberne pie ?* and * the snaffle ?' and
'plowed?'''
VERY HABD CASH.
13
"Well, the gooseberry pie is really too deep
for me: but plowed is the new Oxfordish for
* plucked.' O mamma, have you forgotten that ?
Plucked was vulgar, so now they are plowed.
" ' For smalls ; but I hope I shall n|)t be, to
vex you and puss.' "
"Heaven forbid he should be so disgraced!
But what has the cat to do with it ?"
" Nothing on earth. Fuss ? that is me. How
dare he ? Did I not forbid all these nicknames,
and all this Oxfordish, by proclamation, last
Long.'*
"Last Long?"
"Hem! last protracted vacation.
" * Dear mamma, sometimes I can not help
being down in the mouth' (why it is a string of
pearls) 'to think you have not got a son like
Hardie.'"
At this unfortunate reflection it was Julia's
turn tp suffer. She deposited the letter in her
lap, and fired up. "Now, have not I cause to
hate, and scorn, and despise, le petit Hardie ?"
"Julia!"
" I mean to dislike with propriety, and gently
to abominate Mr. Hardie, junior.
" ' Dear mamma, do come to Henley on the
tenth, you and Ju. The university eights will
not be there, but the best boats of the Oxford
and Cambridge river will; and the Oxford head
boat is Exeter, you know; and I pull six.' "
" Then I am truly sorry to hear it ; my poor
child will overtask his strength ; and how un-
fair of the other young gentlemen ; it seems un-
generous; unreasonable."
" * And I am entered for the sculls as well,
and if you and "the Impetuosity"' (Venge-
ance!) 'were looking on from the bank, I do
think I should be lucky this time. Henley is a
long way from Barkington, but it is a pretty
place ; all the ladies admire it, and like to see
both the universities out and a stunning race '
" Oh; well, there is an epithet. One would
think thunder was going to race lightning, in-
stead of Oxford Cambridge.
" ' If you can come, please ^rite, and I will
get you nice lodgings ; I will not let you go to a
noisy inn. Love to Julia, and no end of kisses
to my pretty mamma,
" 'from your affectionate Son,
"'EbwAKD Dodd.'"
"They wrote off a cordial assent, and reached
Henley in time to see the dullest town in Europe;
and also to see it turn one of the gayest in an
hour or two ; so impetuously came both the uni-
versities pouring into it in all known vehicles
that could go their pace ^by land and water.
CHAPTER L
It was a bright hot day in June. Mrs. Dodd
and Julia sat half reclining, with their parasols
up, in an open carriage, by the brink of the
Thames at one of its loveUest bends.
About a furlong up stream a silvery stone
bridge, just mellowed by time, spanned the riv^
er with many fair arches. Through thesft tfea.
coming mw i^^i^v^ ^t\X\\i^ ^.Vsvi^'^vj ^ioKs^'^n
then came infta.xv^tv[i\ wA ^\\v\\\% $vs$^^^\^-
I tered cool atidsom\ix^\i^t ^2a& eka.\VN^\^NaNXvs
14 VERY BABJy CASH
glistening on again crookedly to the spot where
sat its two fairest visitors that day ; but at that
very point flung off its serpentine habits, and shot
straight away in a broad stream of scintillating
water a mile long, down to an island in mid-
stream ; a little fairy island with old trees and
a white temple. To curl round. this fairy isle
the broa4, current parted, and both silver streams
turned purpl6 in the shade of the grove ; then
winded and melted from the sight.
This noble and rare passage of the silvery
Thames was the Henley race-course. The start-
ing-place was down at the island, and the goal
was up at a point in the river below the bridge,
but above the bend where Mrs. Dodd and Julia
sat, unruffled by the racing, and enjoying luxu-
riously the glorious stream, the mellow bridge
crowded with carriages ^whose fair occupants
stretched a broad band of bright color above the
dark figures clustering on the battlements and
the green meadows opposite with the motley
crowd streaming up and down.
Nor was that sense, which seems especially
keen and delicate in women, left unregaled in
the general bounty of the time. The green
meadows on the opposite bank, and the gardens
at the back of our fair friends, flung their sweet
fresh odors at their liquid benefactor gliding by ;
and the sun himself seemed to bum perfumes,
and the air to scatter them, over the motley
merry crowd, that bright, hot, smiling, airy day
in June.
Thus tuned to gentle enjoyment, the fair
mother and her lovely daughter leaned back in
a delicious languor proper to their sex, and eyed
with unflagging, though demure, interest, and
furtive curiosity, the wealth of youth, beauty,
stature, agility, gayety, and good temper, the
two great universities had poured out upon those
obscure banks; all dressed in neat but easj-
fltting clothes, cut in the height of the fashion,
or else in Jerseys, white or striped, and flannel
trowsers, and straw-hats, or cloth caps of bright
and various hues ; betting, strolling, laughing,
chafiQng, larking, and whirling stunted bludgeons
at Aunt Sally.
But as for the sport itself they were there to
see, the centre of all these bright accessories,
"The Racing," my ladies did not understand it,
nor try, nor care a hook-and-eye about it. But
this mild dignified indifference to the main event
received a shock at two p.m. : for then the first
heat for the cup came on, and Edward was in it.
So then racing became all in a moment a most
interesting pastime; an appendage to Loving.
He left them to join his crew. And, soon after,
the Exeter glided down the river before their
eyes, with the beloved one rowing quietly in it :
his Jersey revealed not only the working power
of his arms, as sunburnt below the elbow as a
gipsy's, and as corded above as a blacksmith's,
but also the play of the great muscles across his
broad and deeply-indented chest : his oar enter-
ed the water smoothly, gripped it severely, then
came out clean, and feathered clear and tunably
on the ringing row-lock, the boat jumped, and
then glided, at each neat, easy, powerful stroke.
"Oh, how beautiful and strong he is," cried
e/a/ja. **I had no idea."
I'resentljr the competitor for this heat came
/fT^' 5*^ ^.^^bridge boat, rowed by a fine crew
"^ ^'^^ ^^riped Jerseya. ^*Ob dearl" said Ju-
lia, "they are odious and strong in this boat
too. I wish I was in it with a gimlet, he
should win, poor boy."
Which cork-screw staircase to Honor being
inaccessible, the race had to be decided by two
unfeminine trifles called "Speed" and "Bot-
tom."
Few things in this vale of tears are more
worthy a pen of fire than an English boat-race
is, as seen by the runners; and none else have
ever seen one, or can paint one. But I, un-
happy, have nothing to do with this race, ex-
cept as it appeared to two ladies seated on the
Henley side of the Thames, nearly opposite the
winning-post. These fair novices then looked
all down the river, and could just discern two
whitish streaks on the water, one on each side
the little fairy isle ; and a great black patch on
the Berkshire bank. The threatening streaks
were the two racing boats : the black patch was
about a hundred Cambridge and Oxford men,
ready to run and hallo with the boats all the
way, or at least till the last puff of wind should
be run plus halloed out of their young bodies.
Others less fleet and enduring, but equally clam-
orous, stood in knots at various distances, ripe
for a shorter yell and run when the boats should
come up to them. Of the natives and country
visitors, those, who were not nailed down by
bounteous Fate, ebbed and flowed up and down
the bank with no settled idea, but of getting
in the way as much as possible, and of getting
knocked into the Thames as little as might be.
There was a long uneasy suspense.
At last a puff of smoke issued from a pistol
down at the island ; two oars seemed to splash
into the water from each white streak ; and the
black patch was moving ; so were the threaten-
ing' streaks. Presently was heard a faint, contin-
uous, distant murmur, and the streaks began to
get larger, and larger, and larger ; and the eight
splashing oars looked four instead of two. '
Every head was now turned down the river.
Groups hung craning over it like nodding bul-
rushes.
Next the runners were swelled by the strag-
glers they picked up ; so were their voices ; and
on came the splashing oars and roaring lungs.
Now the colors of the racing Jerseys peeped
distinct. The oarsmen's heads and bodies came
swinging back like one, and the oars seemed to
fash the water savagely, like a connected row of
swords, and the spray squirted at each vicious
stroke. The boats leaped and darted side by
side, and, looking at them in front, nobody could
say which was ahead. On they came nearer
and nearer, with hundreds of voices vociferating,
" Go it Cambridge !" " Well pulled Oxford ! "
"You are gaining, hurrah!" "Well pulled
Trinity 1" "Hurrah!" "Oxford!" "Cam-
bridge!" "Now is your time, Hardie, pick her
up!" "Oh, well pulled, six !" "Well pulled,
stroke!" "Up, up! lift her a bit!" "Cam-
bridge!" "Oxford!" "Hurrah!"
At this Julia turned red and pale by turns.
"Oh, mamma!" said she, clasping her hands
and coloring high, "would it be very wrong if
I was to pray for Oxford to win ?"
Mrs. Dodd had a monitory finger ; it was on
her left hand ; she raiaed \\. \ vxA^ that moment,
as if she had gWeu a s\gt\?A, t\ift \i^iw\a, ^ot^-
VERY HARD CASH.
15
shortened no longer, shot oat to treble the length
they had looked hitherto, and came broadside
past our palpitating fail*, the elastic rowers
stretched Uke greyhounds in a chase, darting
forward at each stroke so boldly, they seemed
flying out of the boats, and surging' back as su-
perbly, an eightfold human wave : their nostrils
all open, the lips of some pale and glutinous ;
their white teeth all clenched grimly, their young
eyes all glowing, their supple bodies swelling,
the muscles writhing beneath their Jerseys, and
the sinews starting on each bare brown arm ;
their little shrill coxswains shouting imperiously
at the young giants, and working to* and fro
with them, like jockeys at a finish ; nine souls
and bodies flung whole into each magnificent
effort ; water foaming and fljring, row-locks ring-
ing, crowd running, tumbling, and howling like
mad ; and Cambridge a boat's nose ahead.
They had scarcely passed our two spectators,
when Oxford put on a furious spurt, and got
fully even with the leading boat. There was a
loader roar than ever from the bank. Cam-
bridge spurted desperately in turn, and stole
those few feet back ; and so they went fighting
every inch of water. Bang ! A cannon on the
bank sent its smok'e over both competitors; it
dispersed in a moment, and the boats were seen
pulling slowly toward the bridge, Cambridge
with four oars, Oxford with six, as if that gun
had winged them both.
The race was over.
But who had won our party could not see, and
must wait to learn.
CHAPTER II.
A YOUTH, adorned with a blue and yellow
rosette, cried out, in the hearing of Mrs. Dodd,
"I say, they are properly pumped, both crews
are:'' then, jumping on to a spoke of her car-
riage-wheel, with a slight apology, he announced
that two or three were shut up in the Exeter.
The exact meaning of these two verbs passive
was not clear to Mrs. Dodd : but their intensity
was ;. she fluttered, and wanted to go to her boy
and nurse him, and turned two most imploring
eyes on Julia, and Julia straightway kissed her
with gentle vehemence, and offered to run and
see.
*'What, among all those young gentlemen,
love ? I fear that would not be proper. See,
all the ladies remain apart.'* So they kept quiet
and miserable, after the manner of females.
Meantime the Cantab's quick eye had not de-
ceived him ; in each racing boat were two young
gentlemen leaning collapsed over their oars ] and
two more, who were in a cloud, and not at all
clear whether they were in this world still, or in
their zeal had pulled into a better. But their
malady was not a rare one in racing boats, and
the remedy always at hand. It combined the
rival systems. Thames was sprinkled in their
faces Homeopathy : and brandy in a tea-spoon
trickled down their throats Allopathy : youth
and spirits soon did the rest ; and, the moment
their eyes opened, their mouths opened ; and,
the moment their mouths opened, they fell a
chaffin^r.
Mrs. Zhdd*8 anxiety and JuUa*8 were relieved
'^ w \^
by the appearance of Mr. Edward, in a tweed
shooting-jacket, sauntering down to them, hands
in his pocket, and a cigar in his mouth, placidly
unconscious of their solicitude on his account.
He was rec'eived with a little guttural cry of de-
light ; the misery they had been in about him
was duly concealed from him by both, and Julia
asked him warmly who had won.
"Oh, Cambridge."
" Cambridge 1 Why, then, you are beaten ?"
"Rather." (Puff.)
"And you can come here with that horrible
calm, and cigar, owning defeat, and puffing tran-
quillity, with the same mouth. Mamma, we are
beaten. Beaten! actually.*'
"Never mind," said Edward, kindly; "you
have seen a capital race, the closest ever kitown
on this river ; and one side or other must lose."
"And if they did not quite win, they very
nearly did," observed Mrs. Dodd, composedly;
then, with heart-felt content, "he is not hurt,
and that is the main thing."
"Well, my Lady Placid, and Mr. Imperturb-
able, I am glad neither of your equanimities is
disturbed ; but defeat is a Bitter Pill to me."
Julia said this in her earnest voice, and draw-
ing her scarf suddenly round her, so as almost to
make it speak, digested her Bitter Pill in silence.
During which process several Exeter men caught
sight of Edward, and came round him, and an
animated discussion took place. They began
with asking him how it had happened^ and, as
I he never spoVLit^ m t\3ianq, ^\x:^'^^\^xss.NS5^"0iR
No, but t\i^ Cani\stV^e^ ^^ .m^^RJ^^i^^^fc^^^^
16
VERY HARD CASH.
boat, and her bottom cleaner. The bow oar of
the Exeter was ill, and not fit for work. Each
of these solutions was advanced and combated
in turn, and then all together. At last the Babel
lulled, and Edward was once more appealed to.
" Well, I will tell you the real truth," said he,
* * how it happened. " (Puff. )
There was a pause of expectation, for the
young man's tone was that of conviction, knowl-
edge, and authority.
"The Cambridge men pulled faster than we
did." (Puff.)
The hearers stared and then laughed.
"Come, old fellows," said Edward, "never win
a boat-race on dry land ! That is such a plain
thing to do : gives the other side the laugh as
well as the race. I have heard a stretcher or
two told, but I saw none broken. (Puff.) Their
boat is the worst I ever saw, it dips every stroke.
(Puff.) Their strength lies in the crew. It was
a good race and a fair one; Cambridge got a
leiui and kept it. (Puff.) They beat us a yard
or two at rowing ; but hang it aU, don't let them
beat us at telling the truth, not by an inch."
(Puff)
"All right, old fellow!" was now the cry.
One observed, however, that Stroke did not take
the matter so coolly as Six, for he had shed a
tear getting out of the boat.
* ' Shed a fiddle-stick !" squeaked a little skeptic.
** No," said another, " he didn't quite shed it ;
his pride wouldn't let him."
" So he decanted it, and put it by for supper,"
snggeflted Edward, and puffed.
"None of your chaff. Six. He had a gulp or
two, and swallowed the rest by main force."
" Don't you talk : you can swallow any thing,
it seems." (Puff.)
" Well, I believe it," said one of Hardie's own
set. " Dodd^oesn't know him as we do. Taff
Hardie can't bear to be beat."
When they were gone, Mrs. Dodd observed,
"Dear me! what if the young gentleman did
cry a little, it was very excusable; after such
great exertions it was disappointing, mortifying.
I pity him for one, and wish he had his mother
alive and here, to dry them."*
" Mamma, it is you for reading us," cried Ed-
ward, slapping his thigh. "Well, then, since
you can feel for a fellow, Hardie was a good
deal cut up. You know the university was in
a manner beaten, and he took the blame. He
never cried f that was a cracker of those fellows.
But he did give one great sob, that was all, and
hung his head on one side a moment. But then
he fought out of it directly, like a man, and
there was an end of it, or ought to have been,
^ang chatter-boxes !"
" And what did you say to console him, Ed-
ward?" inquired Julia, warmly.
"What me? Console my senior, and my
Stroke ? No, thank you." '
At this thunder-bolt of etiquette both ladies
kept their countenances this was their muscu-
lar feat that day and the racing for the sculls
came on : six competitors two Cambridge, three
Oxford, one London. The three heats furnish-
ed but one good race, a sharp contest between a
CsmbridgQ man and Hardie, ending in favor of
' ^^ ^Jf* ^^ ^^ where, was her Lindl^ Murray
the latter ; the Londoner walked away from his
opponent. Sir Imperturbable's competitor was
impetuous, and ran into him in the first hundred
yards ; Sir I. consenting calmly. The umpire,
appealed to on the spot, decided that it was a
foul, Mr. Dodd being in his own water. He
walked over the course, and explained the mat-
ter to his sister, who delivered her mind thus :
" Oh ! if races are to be won by going slower
than the other, we may shine yet ; only^ I call
it Cheating, not Racing."
He smiled unmoved ; she gave her scarf the
irony twist, and they all went to dinner. The
business recommenced with a race between a
London boat and the winner of yesterday's heat,
Cambridge. Here the truth of Edward's re-
mark appeared. The Cambridge boat was too
light for the men, and kept burying her nose ;
the London craft, under a heavy crew, floated
like a cork. The Londoners soon found out
their advantage, and, overrating it, steered into
their opponents' water prematurely, in spite of a
warning voice from the bank. Cambridge saw,
and cracked on for a foul; and for about a
minute it was any body's race. But the Lon-
doners pulled gallantly, and just scraped clear
ahead. This peril escaped, they kept their backs
straight and a clear lead to the finish; Cam-
bridge followed a few feet in their wake, pulling
wonderfully fast to the end, but a trifle out of
form, and much distressed.
At this both universities looked blue, their
humble aspiration being, first to beat off all the
external world, and then tackle each other for
the prize.
Just before Edward left his friends for "the
sculls," the final heat, a note was brought to him.
He ran his eye over it, and threw it open into
his sister's lap. The ladies read it. lis writer
had won a prize poem, and so now is our time
to get a hint for composition :
Deab Sib, Oxford must win something. Suppose we
go in for these sculls. You are a horse that can stay ;
Siloock is hot for the lead at starting, I hear ; so I mean
to work him out of wind ; then you can wait on us, and
pick up the race. My head is not well enough to-day to
win, but I am good to pump the Cockney ; he is quick,
but a little stale. Yours truly,
Alfbed Habdie.
Mrs. Dodd remarked that the language was
sadly figurative ; but she hoped Edward might
be successful in spite of his correspondent's style.
Julia said she did not dare hope it. " The race
is not always to the slowest and the dearest."
This was in allusion to yesterday's "foul."
The skifis started down at the island, and, as
they were longer coming up than the eight-oai-s,
she was in a fever for nearly ten minutes; at
last, near the opposite bank, up came the two
leading skiffs straggling, both men visibly ex-
hausted; Silcock ahead, but his rudder over-
lapped by Hardie's bow ; each in his own water.
"We are third," sighed Julia, and turned her
head away from the river sorrowfully ; but only
for a moment, for she felt Mrs. Dodd start and
press her arm ; and lo ! Edward's skiff was shoot-
ing swiftly across from their side of the river.
He was pulling just within himself, in beautiful
form, and with far more elasticity than the other
two had got left. As he passed his mother and
sister, his eye seemed to strike fire, and he laid
out all his poweta, and went at the leading skiffs
hand over head. TYvw^ yj aa a -jtW ol a^\vv\%\\-
VEBT HAED CASH.
17
ment and delight from both sides of the Thames.
He passed Hardie, who upon that relaxed his
speed. In thirty seconds more he. was even with
Silcock ; then came a keen straggle : but the new-
comer was " the horse that could stay ;*' he drew
steadily ahead, and the stem of his boat was in
a line with Silcock's person, when the gun fired,
and a fearful roar from the bridge, the river;
and the banks, announced that the favorite uni-
versity had picked up the sculls in the person of
Dodd of Exeter.
In due course, he brought the little silver
sculls, and pinned them on his mother.
* While she and Julia were telling him how
proud they were and how happy they should be,
but for their fears that he would hurt himself,
beating gentlemen ever so much older than him-
. self, came two Exeter mbn with wild looks hunt-
ing for him ; "Oh, Dodd! Hardie wants you di-
rectly."
"Don't you go, Edward,'* whispered Julia:
"Why should you be at Mr. Hardie's beck and
call ? I never heard of such a thing. That youth
will make me hate him."
" Oh I think I had better just go and see what
it is about," replied Edward: "I shall be back
directly." And on this understanding he went
of with the men.
Half an hour passed ; an hour : two hours ;
and he did not return. Mrs. Dodd and Julia
sat wondering what had become of him, and were
looking all around, and getting uneasy ; when
at last they did hear something about him, but
indirectly, and from an unexpected quarter. A
tall young man in a jersey and flannel trowsers,
and a little straw-hat, with a purple rosette, came
away from the bustle to the more secluded part
where they sat, and made eagerly for the Thames
as if he was a duck, and going in. But at the
brink he flung himself into a sitting posture, and
dipped his white handkerchief into the stream,
then tied it viciously round his brow, doubled
himself up with his head in his hands, and rocked
himself like an old woman minus the patience,
of course.
Mrs. Dodd and Julia, sitting but a few paces
behind him^ interchanged a look of intelligence.
The young gentleman was #lBtranger : but they
had recognized a faithful old acquaintance at the
bottom of his pantomime. They discovered, too,
that the afllicted one was a personage : for he had
not sat there long when quite a little band of
men came after him. Observing his semicircu-
larity and general condition, they hesitated a
moment : and then one of them remonstrated
eagerly. " For Heaven's sake come back to the
boat ! there is a crowd of all the colleges come
round us ; and they all say Oxford is being sold ;
we had a chance for the four-oared race, and you
are throwing it away."
" What do I care what they all say ?" was the
answer, delivered with a kind of plaintive snarl.
"But we care."
"Care then! I pity you." And he tumed'his
back fiercely on them ; and then groaned byway
of half apology. Another tried him, "Come
give us a civil answer, please."
" People that intrude upon a man's privacy,
racked with pain, have no right to demand civil-
ity," replied the sufierer more gently, but sullen-
ly enough.
**Do you call this privacy ?"
" It was, a minute ago. Do you think I left
the boat, and came here, among the natives, for
company? and noise? With my head splitting."
Here Julia gave Mrs. Dodd a soft pinch, to
which Mrs. Dodd replied by a smile. And so
they settled who this petulant young invalid
must be.
"There, it is no use," observed one, sotto voce,
"the bloke really has awful headaches, like a
girli and then he always shuts up this way. You
will only rile him, and get the rough side of his
tongue."
Here, then, the conference drew toward a
close. But a Wad ham man, who was one of
the embassadors, interposed. " Stop a minute,"
said he, " Mr. Hardie, I have not the honor to
be acquainted with you, and I am not here to
annoy you, nor to be affronted by you. But the
University has a stake in this race, and the Uni-
versity expostulates through us ; through me if
you like."
"Who have I the honor," inquired Hardie,
assuming politeness sudden and vast.
* * Badham, of Wadham. "
" Badham o' Wadham ? Hear that, ye tune-
ful nine ! Well Badham o* Wadham, you are
no acquaintance of mine ; so you may possibly
not be a fool. Let us assume by way of hy-
pothesis that you are a man of sense, a m^n of
reason as well as of rhyme. Then follow my
logic.
" Hardie of Exeter is a good man in a boat
when he has not got a headache.
"When he has got a headache, Hardie of
Exeter is not worth a straw in a boat.
" Hardie of Exeter has a headache now.
" Ergo, the university would put the said Har-
die into a race, headache and all, and reduce
defeat to a certainty.
"And, ergo, on the same premises, I, not
being an egotist, nor an ass, have taken Hardie
of Exeter and his headache out of the boat, as I
should have done any other cripple.
" Secondly, I have put the best man on the
river into this cripple's place.
"Total, I have given the university the bene-
fit of my brains ; and the university, not having
brains enough to see what it gains by the ex-
change, turns again and rends me, Uke an ani-
mal frequently mentioned in Scripture; but,
nota bene, never once with approbation."
And the afflicted Rhetorician attempted a
diabolical grin, but failed signally ; and groaned
instead.
" Is this your answer to the university, Sir?"
At this query, delivered in a somewhat threat-
ening tone, the invalid sat up all in a moment,
like a poked lion.
"Oh, if Badham o' Wadham thinks to crush
me auctoritate sua et totius universitatis, Bad-
ham o' Wadham may just tell the whole uni-
versity to go and be d d, from the Chancellor
down to the junior cook at Skimmery Hall, "with
my compliments."
"Ill-conditioned brute!" muttered Badham
of Wadham. " Serve you right if the univers-
ity were to chuck you into the Thames." And
with this comment they left him to his ill-tem-
per. One remained ; sat quietly down a little
way ofl", stmck a wesiX\^ ^xc^^i.^I\^V^s\^^^^sA
blew a noisome c\o\x^\ \i\\X xV^ cii^l ^^^ ^\ssr)o.
betokens cako..
18
VERY HARD CASH.
As for Hardie he held his aching head over his
knees, absorbed in pain, and quite unconscioas
that sacred pity was poisoning the air beside him,
and two pair of dove-like eyes resting on him
with womanly concern.
Mrs. Dodd and Julia had heard the greatest
part of this colloquy. They had terribly quick
cars ; and nothing better to do with them just
then. Indeed their interest was excited.
Julia went so far as to put her salts into Mrs.
Dodd's hand with a little earnest look. But
Mrs. Dodd did not act upon the hint ; she had
learned who the young man was ; had his very
name been strange to her, she would have been
more at her ease with him. Moreover his rude-
ness to the other men repelled her a little ; above
all he had uttered a monosyllable ; and a sting-
er ; a thorn of speech not in her vocabulary, nor
even in society's. Those might be his manners,
even when not aching. Still, it seems, a feather
would have turned the scale in his favor, for she
whispered, '* I have a great mind ; if I could but
catch his eye."
While feminine pity and social reserve were
holding the balance so nicely and nonsensically,
about half a split straw, one of the racing four
oars went down close under the Berkshire bank.
"London!'* cried Hardie's adherent.
** What are you there, old fellow ?" murmured
Hardie, in a faint voice. " Now, that is like a
friend, a real friend, to sit by me, and not make
a row. Thank you ! thank you !'*
Presently the Cambridge four-oar passed : it
was speedily followed by the Oxford ; the last
came down* in mid-stream, and Hardie eyed it
keenly as it passed. " There," he cried, " was I
wrong ? There is a swing for you ; there is a
stroke. I did not know what a treasure I had
got sitting behind me."
The ladies looked, and lo ! the lauded Stroke
of the four-oar was their Edward.
"Sing out and tell him it is not like the
sculls. He must fight for the lead, at starting,
and hold it with his eyelids when he has got it."
The adherent bawled this at Edward, and Ed-
ward's reply came ringing back in a clear cheer-
ful voice, ** We mean to try all we know."
"What is the odds?" inquired the invalid,
faintly.
" Even on London ; two to one against Cam-
bridge ; three to one against us."
"Take all my tin and lay it on," sighed the
sufferer.
' * Fork it out, then. Hallo ! eighteen pounds ?
Fancy having eighteen pounds at the end of
term! I'll get the odds up at the bridge di-
rectly. Here's a lady offering you her smelling-
bottle."
Hardie rose and turned round, and sure enough
there were two ladies seated in their carriage at
some distance ; one of whom was holding him
out three pretty little things enough a little
smile, a little blush, and a little cut-glass bottle
with a gold cork. The last panegyric on Ed-
ward had turned the scale.
Hardie went slowly up to the side of the car-
riage, and took off his hat to them with a half-
bewildered air. Now that he was so near, his
.&ce showed very pale ; the more so that his neck
way a good deal tanned; his eyelids were rather
^^oUeo, and bis young eyes troubled and almost
A/mr with the pain. The ladies saw, and their
gentle bosoms were touched : they had heard of
him as a victorious young Apollo, trampling on
all difficulties of mind and body ; and they saw
him wan, and worn, with feminine suffering:
the contrast made him doubly interesting.
Arrived at the side of the carriage he almost
started at Julia's beauty. It was sun-like, and
so were her two lovely earnest eyes, beaming
soft pity on him with an eloquence he had never
seen in human eyes before ; for Julia's were mir-
rors of herself: they did nothing by halves.
He looked at her and her mother, and blushed,
and stood irresolute, awaiting their commands.
This sudden contrast to his petulance with his
own sex paved the way. "You have a sad
headache. Sir," said Mrs. Dodd; "oblige me
by trying my salts."
He thanked her in a low voice.
"And mamma," inquired Julia, "ought he
to sit in the sun ?"
" Certainly not. You had better sit there. Sir,
and profit by our shade and our parasols."
"Yes, mamma, but you know the real place
where he ought to be, is Bed."
"Oh, pray don't say that," implored the pa-
tient.
But Julia continued, with unabated severity,
"And that is where he would go this minute,
if I was his mamma."
"Instead of his junior, and a stranger," said
Mrs. Dodd, somewhat coldly, dwelling with a
very slight monitory emphasis on the " stranger."
Julia said nothing, but drew in perceptibly,
and was dead silent.
"Oh, madam!" said Hardie, eagerly, "I do
not dispute her authority ; nor yours. You have
a right to send me where you please, after your
kindness in noticing my infernal head, and do-
ing me the honor to speak to me, and lending
me this. But if I go to bed, my head will be
my master. Besides, I shall throw away what
little chance I have of making your acquaint-
ance; and the race just coming off!"
** We will not usurp authority. Sir," said Mrs.
Dodd, quietly; "but we know what a severe
headache is, and should be glad to see you sit
still in the shade, yd excite yourself as little as
"Yes, madam," said the youth, humbly, and
sat down like a lamb. He glanced now and then
at the island, and now and then peered up at the
radiant young mute beside him.
The silence continued till it was broken by a
fish out of water.
An under-graduate in spectacles came moon-
ing along, all out of his element. It was Mr.
Eennet, who used to rise at four every morning
to his Plato, and walk up Shotover Hill every
afternoon, wet or dry, to cool his eyes for his
evening work. With what view he deviated to
Henley has not yet been ascertained; he was
blind as a bat, and did not care a button about
any earthly boat-race, except the one in tlie
JEneid, even if he could have seen one. How-
ever, nearly all the men of his college went to
Henley, and perhaps some branch, hitherto un-
explored, of animal magnetism, drew him after.
At any rate, there was his body ; and his mind
at Oxford and Athens, and other venerable but
irrelevant cities. He brightened at sight of his
doge, and asked hmYrarmly if he had heard the
VERY HARD CASH.
19
*THET ABB OPF!"
'* No; what? Nothing wrong, I hope ?"
"Why, two of our men are plowed; that is
all," said Kennet, affecting with withering irony
to undervalue his intelligence.
"Confound it, Kennet, how you frightened
me! I was afraid there was some screw loose
with the crew."
At this very instant, the smoke of the pistol
was seen to puff out from the island, and Hardie
rose to his feet. "They are off!" cried he to
the ladies, and, after first putting his palms to-
. gether with a hypocritical look of apology, he
laid one hand on an old barge that was drawn
up ashore, and sprang like a mountain goat on
to the bow, lighting on the very gunwale. The
position was not tenable an instant, but he ex-
tended one foot very nimbly and boldly, and
planted it on the other gunwale ; and there he
was in a moment, headache and all, in an atti-
tude as large and inspired, as the boldest gesture
antiquity has committed to marble; he had even
the advantage in stature over most of the sculp-
tured forms of Greece. But a double opera-glass
at his eye "spoiled the lot," as Mr. Punch says.
I am not to repeat the particulars of a distant
race comiu^r nearer and nearer. The main feat-
nres are always the same, only this time it was
more exciting to our fair friends, on account of
Edward's high stake in it. And then their
grateful though refractory patient, an authority
in their eyes, indeed all but a river-god, stood
poised in air, and in excited whispers interpret-
ed each distant and unintelligible feature down
to them ;
"Cambridge was off quickest."
" But not much.'*
"Any body's race at present, madam."
"If this lasts long we may win. None of
them can stay like us."
"Come, the favorite is not so very danger-
ous."
" Cambridge looks best."
" I wouldn't change with either, so far."
"Now, in forty seconds more, I shall be able
to pick out the winner."
Julia went up this ladder of thrills to a high
state of excitement ; and, indeed, they were all
so tuned to racing pitch, that some metal nerve
or other seemed to *^a.T *\m\d^ J\ \[^^'w\ik^^^
piercing, gtatVui^ y o\ca o^ ISje^asX XstOiA \\x ^^A.-
denly wit^
20
VERY HARD CASH.
"How do you construe yacrrpiftapyog?'*
The wretch had burrowed in the intellectual
ruins of Greece the moment the pistol went off,
and college chat ceased. Hardie raised his op-
era-glass, and his first impulse was to brain the
judicious Kennet, gazing up to him for an an-
swer, with spectacles goggling like supernatural
eyes of dead sophists in the sun.
"How do you construe *Hoc age?* you in-
congruous dog ! Hold your tongue, and mind
the race!"
"There, I thought sol Where's your three
to one now ? The Cockneys are out of this event,
any way. Go on. Universities, and order their
suppers !'*
"But, which is first. Sir?" asked Julia, im-
ploringly. * * Oh, which is first of all ?'*
"Neither. Nevermind; it looks well. Lon-
don is pumped ; and if Cambridge can't lead him
before this turn in the river, the race will be
ours. Now, look out ! By Jove, we are ahead!"
The leading boats came on, Oxford pulling a
long, lofty, sturdy stroke, that seemed as if it
never could compete with the quick action of its
competitor. Yet it was undeniably ahead, and
gaining at every swing.
Young Hardie writhed on his perch. He
screeched at them across the Thames "Well
pulled Stroke! Well pulled all! Splendidly
pulled,. Dodd ! You are walking away from
them altogether! Hurrah! Oxford forever,
hurrah !" The gun went off over the heads of
the Oxford crew in advance, and even Mrs. Dodd
and Julia could see the race was theirs.
"We have won at last!" cried Julia, all on
fire, " and fairly ; only think of that !"
Hardie turned round, grateful to beauty for
siding with his university. "Yes, and the fools
may thank me; or rather my man, Dodd. Dodd
forever ! Hurrah !"
At this climax even Mrs. Dodd took a gentle
share in the youthful enthusiasm that was boil-
ing around her, and her soft eyes sparkled, and
she returned the fervid pressure of her daugh-
ter's hand; and both their faces were flushed
with gratified pride and affection.
" Dodd !" broke in the incongruous dog, with
a voice just like a saw's; "Dodd! Ah, that's
the man who is just plowed for smalls."
Ice has its thunder-bolts.
CHAPTER m.
Winning boat-races was all very fine ; but a
hundred such victories could not compensate Mr.
Kennet's female hearers for one such defeat as
he had announced, a defeat that, to their minds,
carried disgrace. Their Edward plucked I ' At
first they were benumbed, and sat chilled, with
red cheeks, bewildered between present triumph
and mortification at hand. Then the color ebbed
out of their faces, and they encouraged each
other feebly in whispers, " might it not be a mis-
take?"
, Bat osconscious Kennet robbed them of this
timid hope. He was now in his element, knew
ail about it, rushed into details, and sawed away
aii doubt from their minds.
The sum was this. Dodd's general perform-
ance was mediocre, but passable ; he was plucked
for his Logic. Hardie said he was very sorry for
it. " What does it matter, " answered Kennet ;
"he is a boating man."
" Well, and I am a boating man. Why you
told me yourself, the other day, poor Dodd was
anxious about it on account of his friends. And,
by-the-by, that reminds me they say he has got
two pretty sisters here."
Says Kennet, briskly, " I'll go and tell him ; I
know him just to speak to."
"What, doesn't he know?"
" How can he know ?" said Kennet, jealously;
" the testamurs were only just out as I came
away." And with this he started on his conge-
nial errand.
Hardie took two or three of his long strides,
and fairly collared him. "You will do nothing
of the kind."
" What, not tell a man when he's plowed ?
That is a good joke."
" No. There's time enough. Tell him after
chapel, to-morrow, or in chapel if you must : but
why poison his triumphal cup ? And his sisters,
too, why spoil their pleasure ? Hang it all, not
a word about * plowing' to any living soul to-
day."
To his surprise, Kennet's face expressed no
sympathy, nor even bare assent. At this Hardie
lost patience, awCLbutsl out. Vto^Xmwv^^ , ''^ T^^J^a
VEBY HABD CAS^
21
care how you refuse me; take care how you
thwart me in this. He is the best-natured fellow
in college. It doesn't matter to you, and it does
to him ; and if you do, then take ray name off
the list of your acquaintance, for I'll never speak
a word to you again in this world ; no, not on
my death-bed, by Heaven."
The threat was extravagant; but Youth's glow-
ing cheek, and eye, and imperious lip, and sim-
ple generosity, made it almost beautiful.
Eennet whined, ''Oh, if you talk like that,
there is an end to fair argument"
''End it then, and promise me: upon your
honor!"
"Why not? What bosh! There I promise.
Now, how do yon construe KVfuvovpumie ?'*
The incongruous dog ("I thank thee, Taff, for
teaching me that word*') put this query with the
severity of an inquisitor bringing back a garru-
lous prisoner to the point.
Hardie replied gayly, "Any way you like, now
you are a good feUow again."
" Come, that is evasive. My tutor says it can
not be rendered by any one English word ; no
more can yaarptfAafyYog"
"Why, what on earth can he know about
English ? yaffrpifutpyoQ is a Cormorant : KVfii-
vmrpumiQ is a Skinflint; and your tutor is a
Dufier. Hush ! Keep dark now ! here he comes. "
And he went hastily to meet Edward Dodd : and
by that means intercepted him on his way to the
carriage. "Give me your hand, Dodd," he
aied; "yon have saved the university. You
must be stroke of the eight-oar after me. Let
me see more of you than I have, old fellow."
"With all my heart," replied Edward, calm-
ly, but taking the offered hand cordially ; though
he rather wanted to get away to his mother and
sister.
' ' We will pull together, and read together into
the bargain," continued Hardie.
"Read together? You and I? What do you
mean ?"
"Well, you see I am pretty well up in the
higher books ; what I have got to rub up is my
Divinity and my Logic; especially my Logic.
Will you grind Logic with me ? Say ' Yes,' for
I know you will keep your word."
" It is too good an offer to refuse, Hardie ; but
now I look at you, you are excited ; wonderfully
excited ; with the race, eh ? Now, just you
wait quietly till next week, and then, if you
are so soft as to ask me in cool blood "
" Wait a week ?" cried the impetuous youth.
"No, not a minute. It is settled. There, we
cram Logic together next term."
And he shook Edward's hand again with
glistening eyes and an emotion that was quite
unintelligible to Edward ; but not to the quick,
sensitive, spirits, who sat but fifteen yards off.
"Yon really must excuse me just now," said
Edward, and ran to the carriage, and put out
both hands to the fair occupants. They kissed
him eagerly, with little tender sighs ; and it cost
them no slight effort not to cry publicly over " the
beloved," "the victorious," "the plowed."
Young Hardie stood petrified.
"What? These ladies Dodd's sisters ! Why,
one of them had called the other mamma. Good
Heavens, all his talk in their hearing had been
of Dodd : and Kennet and he between them had
Jet oat the reij thing he wanted to conceal, es-
pecially from Dodd's relations. He gazed at
them, and turned hot to the very forehead.
Then, not knowing what to do or say, and be-
ing after all but a clever boy, not a cool "never
unready" man of the world, he slipped away,
blushing. Kennet followed, goggling.
Left to herself, Mrs. Dodd would have broken
the bad news to Edward at once, and taken the
line of consoling him under her own vexation :
it would not have been the first time she had
played that card. But young Mr. Hardie had
said it would be unkind to poison Edward's day,
and it is sweet woman's nature to follow suit ; so
she and Julia put bright faces on, and Edward
passed a right jocund afternoon with them ; he
was not allowed to surprise one of the looks
they interchanged to relieve their secret mortifi-
cation.
But, after dinner, as the time drew near for
him to go back to Oxford, Mrs. Dodd became
silent, and a little distraite ; and at last drew her
chair away to a small table, and wrote a letter.
In directing it she turned it purposely, so that
Julia could catch the address : " Edward Dodd,
Esq., Exeter College, Oxford^
tfulia was naturally startled at first, and her
eye roved almost comically to and fro the letter
and its Destination, seated calm and uncon-
scious of woman's beneficent wiles. But her
heart soon divined the mystery ; it was to reach
him the first thing in the morning, and spare
him the pain of writing the news to them ; and,
doubtless, so worded as not to leave him a day
in doubt of their forgiveness and sympathy.
Julia took the missive unobserved by the
Destination, and glided out of the room to get
it quietly posted.
The servant-girl was waiting on the second-
floor lodgers, and told her so, with a significant
addition, viz., that the post was in this street,
and only a few doors off.
Julia was a little surprised at her coolness, but
took the hint with perfect good temper, and just
put on her shawl and bonnet, and went with it
herself.
The post-office was not quite so near as repre-
sented; but she was soon there, for she was
eager till she had posted it ; but she came back
slowly and thoughtfully: here in the street,
lighted only by the moon, and an occasional
gas-light, there was no need for self-restraint,
and soon her mortification betrayed itself in her
speaking countenance. And to think that het
mother, on whom she doted, should have to
write to her son, there present, and post the
letter I This made her eyes fill, and before she
reached the door of the lodging, they were brim-
ming over.
As she put her foot on the step a timid voice
addressed her, in a low tone of supplication.
" May I venture to speak one word to you. Miss
Dodd ? one single word ?"
She looked up surprised; and it was young
Mr. Hardie.
His tall figure was bending toward her sub-
missively, and his face, as well as his utterance,
betrayed considerable agitation.
And what led to wi \mv]sva^. . ^^TkRwota&Xjfc-
tween a yontv% %ftTk\\Km5i sA \^i ^"^^ '^^^a^
1 never been mxic^LUce^.
VERY HARD CASH.
HE APDBESSED HER WITH ALL THE TREPIDATION OF YOUTH.
" The Tender Passion," says a reader of many
novels.
Why, yes ; the tenderest in all our nature :
Wounded vanity.
Naturally proud and sensitive, and inflated by
success and flattery, Alfred Hardie had been tor-
turing himself ever since he fled Edward's fe-
male relations. He was mortified to the core.
He confounded **the fools" (his favorite syn-
onym for his acquaintance) for going and call-
ing Dodd*s mother an elder sister, and so not
giving him a chance to divine her. And then
that he, who prided himself on his discrimina-
tion, should take them for ladies of rank,, or, at
all events, of the highest fashion ; and, climax
of humiliation, that so great a man as he should
go and seem to court them by praising Dodd of
Exeter, by enlarging upon Dodd of Exeter, by
offering to grind Logic with Dodd of Exeter.
Who would believe that this was a coincidence,
a mere coincidence ? They could not be expected
to believe it ; female vanity would not let them.
He tingled, and was not far from hating the
whole family : so bitter a thing is that which I
Jiare ren tared to dab "The Tenderest Passion."
-fife itched to ease bis irritation by explaining
to Edward. Dodd was a frank, good-hearted
fellow ; he would listen to facts, and convince
.the ladies in turn. Hardie learned where Dodd's
party lodged, and waited about the door to catch
him alone ; Dodd must be in college by twelve,
and would let^ve Henley before ten. He waited
till he was tired of waiting. But at last the
door opened ; he stepped forward, and out
tripped Miss Dodd. " Confound it !" muttered
Hardie, and drew back. However, he stood and
admired her graceful figure and action, her lady-
like speed without bustling. Had she come
back at the same pace he would never have ven-
tured to stop her : on such a thread do things
hang: but she returned very slowly, hanging
her head ; her look at him and his headache
recurred to him, a look brimful of goodness.
She would do as well as Edward, better per-
haps. He yielded to impulse, and addressed her,
but with all the trepidation of a youth defying
the giant Etiquette for the first time in his life.
Julia wi|s a little surprised and fluttered, but
did not betray it; she had been taught self-
command by example, if not by precept,
"Certainly, Mr. Hardie," said she, with a
modest composure a young coquette might have
envied nnder the circumstances.
Haidie liad now onVj to ex.^Mii "VivcckSfilC -^ hut
VERY HARD CASH.
instead of that, he stood looking at her with si-
lent concern ; the fair face she raised to him was
wet with tears ; so were her eyes, and even the
glorious eyelashes were fringed with that tender
spray ; and it glistened in the moonlight.
This sad and pretty sight drove the vain hut
generous youth's calamity clean out of his head.
**Why, you are crying! Miss Dodd, what is
the matter? I hoper nothing has happened."
Julia turned her head away a little fretfully,
with a "No, no!" But soon her natural can-
dor and simplicity prevailed; a simplicity not
without dignity ; she turned round to him and
looked him in the face, '* Why should I deny it
to you. Sir, who have been good enough to sym-
pathize with us? We or 9^ mortified, sadly mor-
tified, at dear Sdward's disgrace; and it has
cost us a struggle not to disobey you, and poison
his triumphal cup with sad looks. And nij^kna
had to write to him, and console him againPto-
morrow : but I hope he will not feel it so severe-
ly as she does : and I have just posted it myself,
and when I thought of our dear mamma being
driven to such expedients, I Oh !" And the
pore young heart, having opened itself by words,
must flow a little more.
"Oh, pray don't cry,** said young Hardie,
tenderly ; '' don't take such a trifle to heart so ;
YOU crying makes me feel guilty for letting it
happen. It shall never occur again. If I had
only known, it should never have happened at
11."
"Once is enough," sighed Julia.
"Lideed you take it too much to heart; it is
only out of Oxford a plow is thought much of;
especially a single one ; that is so very common.
You see, Miss Dodd, a university examination
consists of several items : neglect but one, and
Crichton himself would be plowed; because
brilliancy in your other papers is not allowed to
count ; that is how the most distinguished man
of our day got plowed for Smalls ; I had a nar-
row escape, I know, for one. But, Miss Dodd,
if you knew how far your brother's performance
on the river outweighs a mere slip in the schools,
in all university men's eyes, the dons' and all,
you would not make this bright day end sadly
to Oxford by crying. Why, I could find you a
thousand men who would be plowed to-morrow
with glory and delight, to win one such race as
your brother has won two."
Julia sighed again. But it sounded now half
like a sigh of relief; the final sigh, with which
the fair consent to be consoled.
And, indeed, this improvement in the music
did not escape Hardie ; he felt he was on the
right tack: he enumerated fluently, and by
name, many good men, besides Dean Swift, who
had faieen plowed, yet had cultivated the field of
letters in their turn ; and, in short, he was so
earnest and plausible, that something like a smile
hovered about his hearer's lips, and she glanced
askant at him with furtive gratitude from under
her silky lashes. But soon it recurred to her
that this was rather a long interview to accord
to "a stranger," and under the moon; so she
said a little stifSy, *'And was this what you
were good enough to wish to say to me, Mr.
Hardie?"
" No, Miss Dodd, to be frank, it was not. My
motive in addressing you^ without the right to
take sach a vedojn, wa3 egotistical, 1 came
here to clear myself; I I was afraid you must
think me a humbug, you know."
'*I do not understand you, indeed."
"Well, I feared you and Mrs. Dodd might
think I praised Dodd so, and did what little X
did for him, knowing who you were, and wishing
to curry favor with you by all that ; and that is
so underhand and paltry a way^of going to work,
I should despise myself."
" Oh, Mr. Hardie," said the young lady, smil-
ing, "how foolish: why, of course we knew you
had no idea."
** Indeed I had not; but how could you know
it?"
"Why, we saw it. Do you think we have
no eyes? ah, and much keener ones than gen-
tlemen have. It is mamma and I who are to
blame, if any body ; we ought to have declared
ourselves: it would have been more generous,
more manly. But we can not all be gentlemen,
you know. It was so sweet to hear Edward
praised by one who did not know us ; it was like
stolen fruit ; and by one whom others praise : so
if you can forgive us our slyness, there is an end
of the matter."
"Forgive you? you have taken a thorn out
of my soul."
" Then I am so glad you summoned courage
to speak to me without ceremony. Manmia
would have done better though; but after all,
do not I know her? My mamma is all good-
ness and intelligence; and be assured. Sir,- she
does you justice; and is quite sensible of your
disinterested kindness to dear Edward." With
this she was about to retire.
"Ah! But you. Miss Dodd? with whom I
have taken this unwarrantable liberty?" said
Hardie, imploringly.
"Me, Mr. Hardie? you do me the honor to
require my opinion of your performances ; in-
cluding, of course, this self-introduction ?"
Hardie hung his bead ; there was a touch of
satire in the lady's voice, he thought.
Her soft eyes rested demurely on him a mo-
ment ; she saw he was a little abashed.
"My opinion of it all is that you have been
very kind to us ; in being most kind to our poor
Edward. I never saw nor read of any thing
more generous, more manly. And then so
thoughtful, 80 considerate, so delicate! so in-
stead of criticising you, as you seem to expect,
his sister only blesses you, and thanks you from
the venr bottom of her heart."
She had begun with a polite composure, bor-
rowed from mamma; but, once launched, her
ardent nature got the better : her color rose and
rose, and her voice sank and sank, and the last
words came almost in a whisper, and such a
lovely whisper ; a gurgle from the heart : and,
as she concluded, her delicate hand came sweep-
ing out with a heaven-taught gesture of large
and sovereign cordiality that made even the
honest words and the divine tones more elo-
quent. It was too much : the young man, ar-
dent as herself, and not, in reality, half so tim-
orous, caught fire ; and seeing a white, eloquent
hand rather near him, caught it, and pressed
his warm lips on it in mute adoration and grat-
itude.
At this she was scM^d waA. ^i^^xAsA. '''' ^^5^\
keep that foi t\v(b Q.Mi'&esvX" crva^ ^s^^ Xxctosmj,
scarlet, and. tomu^ \i'et ica\is^\\iJ '^^ ^'^i
24
VERY HARD CASH.
like a startled stag, and she drew her hand
away quickly and decidedly, though not rough-
ly. He stammered a lowly apology; in the
very middle of it she said, softly, "Grood-by,
Mr. Hardie," and swept, with a gracious little
courtesy, through the doorway, leaving him
spell-bound.
And so the virginal instinct of self-defense
carried her off swiftly and cleverly. But none
too soon; for, on entering the house, that ex-
ternal composure her two mothers, Mesdames
Dodd and Nature, had taught her, fell from her
like a veil, and she fluttered up the stairs to her
own room, with hot cheeks, and panted there
like some wild thing that has been grasped at
and grazed. She felt young Bardie's lips upon
the palm of her hand plainly ; they seemed to
linger there still ; it was like light but live vel-
vet. This, and the ardent look he had poured
into her eyes, set the young creature quivering.
Nobody had looked at her so before, and no
young gentleman had imprinted living velvet
on her hand. She was alarmed, ashamed, and
uneasy. What right had he to look at her like
that ? What shadow of a right to go and kiss
her hand ? He could not pretend to think she
had put it out to be kissed ; ladies put forth the
back of the hand for that, not the palm. The
truth was he was an impudent fellow, and she
hated him now, and herself too, for being so sim-
ple as to let him talk to her ; mamma would not
have been so imprudent when she was a girl.
She would not go down, for she felt there
must be something of this kind legibly branded
on her face : " O I O ! just look at this young
ladj ! She has been letting a young gentleman
kiss the palm of her hand ; and the feel has not
gone off yet f you may see that by her cheeks."
But, then, poor Edward ! she must go down.
So she put a wet towel to her tell-tale cheeks,
and dried them by artistic dabs, avoiding fric-
tion, and came down stairs like a mouse, and
turned the door-handle noiselessly, and glided
into the sitting-room, looking so transparent,
conscious, and all on fire with beauty and ani-
mation, that even Edward was Startled, and, in
a whisper, bade his mother observe what a pret-
ty girl she was ; ** beats all the county girls in a
canter."
Mrs. Dodd did look; and, consequently, as
soon as ever Edward was gone to Oxford*, she
said to Julia, " You are feverish, love ; you have
been excited with all this. You had better go
to bed."
Julia complied willingly, for she felt a strange,
and, to her, novel inclination ; she wanted to be
alone and think. She retii:ed to her own room,
and went the whole day over again; and was
happy and sorry, exalted and uneasy, by turns ;
and ended by excusing Mr. Hardie's escapade,
and throwing the blame on herself. She ought
to have been more distant ; gentlemen were not
expected, nor indeed much wanted, to be mod-
est. A little assurance did not misbecome
them. '^Really I think it sets them off," said
she to herself.
Grand total : " What must he think of me ?"
Time gallops in reverie : the town clock struck
twelve, and with its iron tongue remorse enter-
ed her yotftbfal conscience. Was this obeying
mamma? Mamma, had said, Go to bed: not,
"Go up stairs and meditate : upon young gen-
tlemen." She gave an expressive shake of her
fair shoulders, like a swan flapping the water off'
its downy wings, and so dismissed the subject
from her mind.
Then she said her prayers.
Then she rose from her knees, and cajoled the
imaginary cat out from its theoretical hiding-
place. "Puss! puss! pretty puss!"
Thieves and ghosts she did not believe in, yet
credited cats under beds, and thought them nei-
ther "harmless" nor "necessary" there.
After tenderly evoking the detested and chi-
merical quadruped, she proceeded none the less
to careful research, especially of cupboards. The
door of one resisted, and then yielded with a
crack, and blew out the candle. " There now,"
saidjjie.
j^as her only light, except her beauty. They
alMRd each Hebe but one candle in that ancient
burgh.
"Well," she thought, "there is moonlight
enough to ndress by."
She went to draw back one of the curtains.
But in the act she started back with a little
scream. There was a tall figure over the way
watching the house.
The moon shone from her side of the street
full on him, and in that instant her quick eye
recognized Mr. Hardie.
"Well!" said she aloud, and with an inde-
scribable inflection ; and hid herself swiftly in
impenetrable gloom.
But, after a while, Eve*s daughter must have
a peep. She stole with infinite caution to one
side of the curtain, and made an aperture just
big enough for one bright eye. Yes, there he
was, motionless. "I'll tell mamma," said she
to him, malignantly, as if the sound could reach
him.
Unconscious of the direful threat, he did not
budge.
She was unaffectedly puzzled at this phenom-
enon ; and, not being the least vain, fell to won-
dering whether he played the nightly sentinel
opposite every lady's window who exchanged
civilities with him. " Because, if he does, he is
a fool," said she, promptly. But on reflection,
she felt sure he did nothing of the kind, habit-
ually, for he had too high an opinion of himself;
she had noted that trait in him at a very early
stage. She satisfied herself, by cautious exam-
ination, that he did not know her room. He
was making a temple of the whole lodging.
" How ridiculous of him I" Yet he appeared to
be happy over it ; there was an exalted look in
his moon-lit face ; she seemed now first to see
his soul there. She studied his countenance like
an inscription, and deciphered each rapt ex-
pression that crossed it, and stored them in her
memory.
Twice she left her ambuscade, to go to bed :
and twice Curiosity, or Something, drew her
back. At last, having looked, peered, and peep-
ed till her feet were cold, and her face the re-
verse, she informed herself that the foolish Thing
had tired her out.
" Good-night, Mr. Policeman,*' said she, pre-
tending to bawl to him. "And, O, do rain ! As
hard as ever you can." With this benevolent
aspiration, a Uttle too violent to be sincere, she *
1 laid her cheek. oii\ifii ^\!^o^ ^o\x^\\\^.
VERY HARD CASH.
25
But her sentinel, when ont of sight, had more
power to disturb her. She lay and wondered
whether he was still there, and 'what it all meant,
and what ever mamma would say ; and which
of the two, she or he, was the head culprit in
this strange performance, to which Earth, she
conceived, had seen no parallel ; and, above all,
what he would do next. Her pulse galloped, I
and her sleep was broken ; and she came down
in the morning a little pale. Mrs. Dodd saw it
at once, with the quick maternal eye ; and mor- I
alized : *' It is curious ; youth is so fond of pleas-
ure; yet pleasure seldom agrees with youth;
this little excitement has done your mother good, I
who is no longer young: but it has been too
mach for you, I shall be glad to have you back
to our quiet home.'*
Ah ! Will that home be as tranquil now ?
CHAPTER IV.
The long vacation commenced about a month
afterward, and Hardie came to his father's
house, to read for honors, unimpeded by uni-
versity races and college lectures; and the
plowed and penitent one packed up his Aldrich
and his Whately, the then authorities in Logic,
and hroagbt tbem borne, together with a firm
B
resolution to master that joyoui science before
the next examination for Smalls in October.
But lo I ere he had been an hour at home, he
found his things put neatly away in his drawers
on the feminine or vertical system deep strata
of waistcoats, strata of trowsers, strata of coats,
strata of papers and his Logic gone.
In the course of the evening he taxed his sister
good-humoredly, and asked "what earthly use
that book was to her, not wearing curls."
"I intend to read it, and study it, and teach
you it," replied Julia, rather languidly con-
sidering the weight of the resolve.
** Oh, if you have boned it to read, I say no
more ; the crime will punish itself.**
** Be serious, Edward, and think of mamma !
I can not sit with my hands before me, and let
you be replowed."
* * I don't want. But replowed ! haw, haw !
but you can't help me at Logic as you used at
Syntax. Why, all the world knows a girl can't
learn logic."
"A girl can learn any thing she chooses to
learn. What she can't learn is things other
people set her down to." Before Edward could
fully digest this revelation, she gave the argu-
ment a new turn, by adding, fretfully, "And
don't be so unkind, thwarting and teasing me I"
and all in a moment she was crying.
** Halloa!" ejaculated Edward, taken quite by
surprise. "What is the matter, dears?" in-
quired maternal vigilance from the other end of
the room.
"I don't know, mamma," said Edward.
" What on earth is it, Julia ?"
" N-othing. Don't torment me !"
Mrs. Dodd came quietly to them. " You did
not speak brusquely to her, Edward ?"
" No, no," said Julia, eagerly. " It is I that
am turned so cross, and so peevish. I am quite
a changed girl. Mamma, what is the matter
with me ?" And she laid her brow on her mo-
ther's bosom.
Mrs. Dodd caressed the lovely head soothingly
with one hand, and made a sign over it to Ed-
ward to leave them alone. She waited quietly
till Julia was composed : and then said, softly,
* ^ Come, tell me what it is ; nothing that Edward
said to you ; for I heard almost every word, and
I was just going to smile, or nearly, when you
And, my love, it is not the first time, you know ;
I would not tell Edward, but I have more than
once seen your eyes with tears in them."
"Have you, mamma?" said Julia, scarcely
above a whisper.
" Why, you know I have. But I said io my-
self it was no use forcing confidence. I thought
I would be very patient, and wait till you came
to me with it ; so now, what is it, my darling ?
Why do you speak of one thing and think of
another ? and cry without any reason that your
mother can see?"
"I don't know, mamma," said Julia, hiding
her head. " I think it is because I sleep so bad-
ly. I rise in the morning hot and quivering, and
more tired than I lay down."
"I am sorry to hear it," said Mrs. Dodd.
"How long is this?"
Julia did not answer this question ; she went
on, with her fac^ %\.\\\ Vvvai^ew, '-'-^^xoLTssa^y \^
feel 80 depreasei 8LTv.^\\^?Xet\e\^Qt O^r.NsvnSsSv's^x.
26
VERr HARD CASH.
I used to be ; and I go from one thing to anoth-
er, and can settle to nothing ; even in chnrch I
attend by fits and starts : I forgot to water my
very flowers last night : and I heard Mrs. Max-
ley out of my window tell Sarah I am losing my
color. Am I ? But what does it matter ? I
am losing my sense ; for I catch myself forever
looking in the glass, and that is a sure sign of a
fool ; and I can not pass the shops ; I stand and
look in, and long for the very dearest silks, and
for diamonds in my hair." A heavy sigh fol-
lowed the confession of these maltiform imper-
fections; bnt the criminal looked a little re-
lieved by it ; and half raised her head to watch
the effect
As for Mrs. Dodd, she opened her eyes wide
with surprise ; bat at the end of the heterogene-
ous catalogue she smiled, and said, ''I can not
believe that. If ever there was a young lady
free from personal vanity it is my Julia. Why,
your thoughts run by nature away from your-
self; you were bom for others."
Her daughter kissed her gratefully, and smiled :
but, after a pause, said, , sorrowfully, "Ah, that
was the old Julia, as seen with your dear eyes.
I have almost forgotten her. The new one is
what I tell you, dear mamma, and that" (with
sudden fervor) "is a dreamy, wandering, vain,
egotistical, hysterical, abominable girl."
" Let me kiss this monster that I have brought
into the world," said Mrs. Dodd. "And now
let me think." She rested her eyes calm and
penetrating upon her daughter ; and at this mere
look, but a very searching one, the color mount-
ed and mounted in Julia's cheek strangely.
"After all," said Mrs. Dodd, thoughtfully,
"yours is a critical age; perhaps my child is
turning to a woman; my rose-bud to a rose."
And she sighed. Mothers will sigh at things
none other ever sighed at.
"To a weed, I fear," replied Julia. "What
will you say when I own I felt no real joy at Ed-
ward's return this time ? And yesterday I cried,
*Do get away, and don't pester me!* "
" To your brother ? Oh !"
"Oh no, mamma, that was to poor Spot.
He jumped on me in a reverie, all affection,
poor thing."
"Well, for your comfort, dogs do not appre-
ciate the niceties of our language."
"I am afraid they do ; when we kick them."
Mrs. Dodd smiled at the admission implied
here, and the deep penitence it was uttered with.
But Julia remonstrated, "Oh no I no! don*t
laugh at me, but help me with your advice : you
are so wise and so experienced : you must have
been a girl before you were an angel. You
must know what is the matter with me. O, do
pray cure me ; or else kill me, for I can not go
on like this, all my affections deadened, and my
peace disturbed."
And now the mother looked serious and
thoughtful enough ; and the daughter watched
her furtively; " Julia,"'said Mrs. Dodd, very
gravely, "if it was not my child, reared under
my eye, and never separated from me a single
day, I should say, this young lady is either af-
flicted with some complaint, and it affects her
nerves and spirits; or else she has she is what
iaexperjenced young people call * in love. ' You
oeed not look so frightened, child; nobody in
i^neir senses suspects you of imprudence or in-
delicacy; and therefore I feel quite sure that
your constitution is at a crisis, or your health
has suffered some shock; pray Heaven it may
not be a serious one. You will have the best
advice, and without delay, I promise you."
During the pronunciation of this judgment
Julia's countenance was really a sight ; always
transparent, it was now nearly prismatic, so
swiftly did various emotions chase one another
over those vivid features, emotions that seemed
strangely disproportioned to the occasion; for
among them were hope, and fear, and shame.
But when Mrs. Dodd arrived at her prosaic
conclusion, a kaleidoscope seemed suddenly to
shut, so abruptly did the young face lose its mo-
bility and life ; and its owner said, sadly and al-
most doggedly, "My only hope was in you and
your wisdom, not in nasty doctors."
This expression, so flattering, at first sight, to
a great profession, was but a feminine ellipse ;
she meant "doctors whose prescriptions are
nasty." However, the learned reader has al-
ready seen she was not behind her sex in feats
of grammar.
That very evening, Mrs. Dodd sent a servant
into the town with a note like a cocked hat, and
next morning Mr. Coleman the apothecary called.
Mrs. Dodd introduced the patient, and as soon
as he had examined her pulse and tongue, gave
her a signal to retire, and detailed her symptoms :
loss of sleep, unevenness of spirits, listlessness,
hysteria. Mr. Coleman listened reverentially;
then gave his opinion : that there was no sign of
consumption, nor indeed of any organic disorder ;
but considerable functional derangement, which
it would be prudent to arrest. He bowed out
profoundly, and in one hour a buttoned boy
called and delivered a smart salute ; a box of
twenty-eight pills; and a bottle containing six
draughts : the quantity of each was determined
by horizontal glass lines raised on the vial at
equal distances : the pills contained aloes, colo-
cynth, soap, and another ingredient I have un-
fortunately forgotten : the draught, steel, calum-
ba root, camphor, and cardamoms. Two pills
for every night, a draught three times a day.
"I do not quite understand this, Julia," said
Mrs. Dodd ; " here are pills for a fortnight, but
the bottle will last only two days."
The mystery was cleared by the pretty page
arriving every other day with a fresh vial, and
a military flourisli of hand to cap.
After the third bottle (as topers say), Mrs.
Dodd felt uneasy. All this saluting, and firing
of vials, at measured intervals, smacked of rou-
tine and nonchalance too much to satisfy her
tender anxiety; and some instinct whispered
that an airy creature, threatened with a mys-
terious malady, would not lower herself to be
cured by machinery.
So sne sent for Mr. Osmond, a consulting
surgeon, who bore a high reputation in Barking-
ton. He came ; and proved too plump for that
complete elegance she would have desired in a
medical attendant ; but had a soft hand, a gentle
touch, and a subdued manner. He spoke to the
patient with a kindness which won the mother
directly; had every hope of setting her right
without any violent or disagreeable remedies;
but, when she had retired, altered his tone, and
told Mrs. Dodd seriously she had done well to
I send for \nm in tm^', \\. ^aa a. t6 oi " H'^-
VERY HABD CASH.
27
peroesthesia" (Mrs. Dodd clasped her hands in
alarm), '^or, as unprofessional persons would
say, 'excessive sensibility."*
Mrs. Dodd was somewhat relieyed. Trans-
lation blunts thunder-bolts. She told him she
had always feared for her child on that score.
Bat was sensibility curable ? Could a nature be
changed ?
He replied, that the Idiosyncrasy could not ;
but its morbid excess could, especially when
taken in time. Advice was generally called in
too late. However, here the only serious symp-
tom was the Insomnia. "We must treat her for
that," said he, writing a prescription ; ** but for
the rest, active employment, long walks, or
rides, add a change of scene and associations,
will be all that will be required. In these
cases," resumed Mr. Osmond, ''connected as
they are with Hypercemia, medical men consid-
er moderate venesection to be indicated."
* Venesection ? Why, that is bleeding," ejac-
ulated Mrs. Dodd, and looked aghast.
Mr. Osmond saw her repugnance, and flowed
aside: "But here, where Kephalalgia and other
symptoms are wanting, it is not called for in the
least ; indeed, would be unadvisable." He then
put on his gloves, saying, carelessly, " The diet,
of course, must he Antiphlogistic."
Mrs. Dodd thanked him warmly for the inter-
est he had shown, and, after ringing the bell,
accompanied him herself to the head of the
stairs, and then asked him would he add to his
kindness by telling her where she could buy
ihatf
Mr. Osmond looked surprised at the question,
and told her any chemist would make it up for
her. It was only a morphine pill, to be taken
every night.
"Oh, I do not mean the prescription," ex-
plained Mrs. Dodd, ** but the new food the dear
child is to take? An ^flo Gistic, was it? I
had better write it down. Sir ;" and she held her
wee ivory tablets ready.
Mr. Osmond stared, then smiled superior:
'^ Antiphlogistic is not an esculent, it is a med-
ical term."
" There, see my ignorance I** said Mrs. Dodd,
sweetly.
He replied courteously, "I am afraid it is,
*See my rudeness, talking Greek to a lady.*
But it is impossible to express medical ideas by
popular terms. * Antiphlogistic' is equivalent to
non-inflammatory. You must know that nearly
all disorders arise from, or are connected with,
' phlegmon,' that is, morbid heat ; inflammation.
Then a curative system antagonistic to heat, in
short, an Antiphlogistic treatment, restores the
healthy equilibrium by the cooling effect of ven-
esection or cupping in violent cases, followed by
drastic agents, and by vesication and even saliva-
tion if necessary don't be alarmed I Nothing
in so mild a case as this indicates the exhibition
of active remedies and, in all cases, serious or
the reverse, the basis of the treatment is a light
abstemious diet; a diet at once lowering and
cooling: in one word, Antiphlogistic. Let us
say then, for breakfast, dry toast with very little
butter no coffee cocoa (from the nibs'), or weak
tear for luncheon, beef-tea or mutton-broth : for
dinner, a slice of roast chicken, and tapioca, or
Bdmoiina, pudding. I would give her one glass
of sherry, bat no more, and barley-water ; it
would be as well to avoid brown meats, at all
events for the present. With these precautions,
my dear madam, I think your anxiety will soon
be happily removed."
Upon the good surgeon's departure, Mrs. Dodd
went in search of Julia, and told her she was
charmed with him. " So kind and considerate.
He enters into my solicitude, and seems to par-
take it; and, he speaks under his breath, and
selects his expressions. You are to take a nar-
cotic, and long walks, and an antiphlogistic
diet."
Julia took her long walks and light diet ; and
became a little pale at times, and had fewer
bursts of high spirits in the intervals of depres-
sion. Her mother went with her care to a fe-
male friend. The lady said she would not trust
to surgeons and apothecaries ; she would have a
downright physician. " Why not go to the top
of the tree at once, and call in Dr. Short? You
have heard of him ?"
** Oh yes ; I have even met him in society ; a
most refined person ; I will certainly follow your
adrice and consult him. Oh, thank you, Mrs.
Bosanquet! Apropos, do you consider him
skillful?"
** Oh, immensely ; he is a particular friend of
my husband's."
This was so convincing, that off went another
three-cocked note, and next day a dark green
carriage and pair dashed up to Mrs. Dodd's door,
and Dr. Short bent himself in an arc, got out,
and slowly mounted the stairs. He was six feet
two, wonderfully thin, livid, and gentlemanlike.
Fine long head, keen eye, lantern jaws. At
sight of him Mrs. Dodd rose and smiled, Julia
started and sat trembling. He stepped across
the room inaudibly, and, after the usual civilities,
glanced at the patient's tongue, and touched her
wrist delicately. "Pulse is rapid," said he.
Mrs. Dodd detailed the symptoms. Dr. Short
listened with ^he patient politeness of a gentle-
man, to whom all this was superfluous. He
asked for a sheet of note-paper, and divided it so
gently, he seemed to be persuading one thing to
be two ; he wrote a pair of prescriptions, and
while thus employed looked up every now and
then and conversed with the ladies.
"You have a slight subclavicular affection.
Miss Dodd : I mean, a little pain under the
shoulder-blade."
"No, Sir," said Julia, quietly.
Dr. Short looked a little surprised ; his female
patients rarely contradicted him. Was it for
them to disown things he was so good as to as-
sign them?
" Ah !" said he, " you are not conscious of it :
all the better ; it must be slight ; a mere uneasi-
ness : no more." He then numbered the pre-
scriptions 1, 2, and advised Mrs. Dodd to drop
No. 1 after the eighth day, and substitute No. 2,
to be continued until convalescence. He put on
his gloves to leave. Mrs. Dodd, then, with some
hesitation, asked him humbly whether she might
ask him what the disorder was. "Certainly,
madam," said he, graciously; "your daughter
is laboring under a slight torpidity of the liver.
The first prescription is active, and is to clear
the gland itself, and the bvlvax^ d^^R^&^^S.^^^& ^-se-
cretory aftC\xm\xVBLV\oTL\ ixv!\^^ ^sssysvASa ^"^ssi^^-
. ited to promote . \v^\iJK^ \varcM\ V"^\\. \s. Nios&
28
VERY HARD CASH.
,Nf',;!i
'-,\v
',/llM,,|||!K!'.^'^;|
DB. SHORT PRESCRIBES.
" A liver complaint, Dr. Short! What, then,
it is not Hyperoesthesia ?'*
" Hyperoesthesia? There is no such disorder
in the books."
"You surprise me," said Mrs. Dodd. "Dr.
Osmond certainly thought it was Hyperoesthe-
sia." And she consulted her wee tablets to es-
tablish the word.
Meantime, Dr. Short's mind, to judge by his
countenance,' was away roaming distant space
in search of Osmond. "Osmond? Osmond? I
do not know that name in medicine."
. " O, O, O !" cried Julia, " and they both live
in the same street I" Mrs. Dodd held up her
finger to this outspoken patient.
But a light seemed to break in on Dr. Short.
" Ah ! you mean Mr. Osmond : a surgeon. A
very respectable man, a most respectable man.
I do not know a more estimable person in his
grade of the profession than my good friend Mr.
Osmond. And so he gives opinions in medical
cases, does he?" Dr. Short paused, apparently
to realize this phenomenon in the world of Mind.
Bjs resamed in a differ en t tone : * * You may h ave
ntisanderstood him. Hjrpercesthesia exists, of
coarae/ since lie aays so. But Hjperoesthesia is
w a Complaint; it is a Symptom, Of bUiary
derangement. My worthy friend looks at dis-
orders from a mental point ; very natural : his
interest lies that way, perhaps you are aware :
but profounder experience proves that mental
sanity is merely one of the results of bodily
health : and I am happy to assure you that, the
biliary canal once cleared, and the secretions re-
stored to the healthy habit, by these prescrip-
tions, the Hyperoesthesia, and other concomitants
of hepatic derangement, will disperse, and leave
our interesting patient in the enjoyment of her
natural intelligence, her friends' affectionate ad-
miration, and above all, of a sound constitution.
Ladies, I have the honor " and the Doctor eked
out this sentence by rising.
"Oh, thank you. Dr. Short,'* said Mrs. Dodd,
rising with him; "you inspire me with confi-
dence and gratitude." As if under the influence
of these feelings only she took Dr. Short's palm,
and pressed it. Of the two hands, which met
for a moment then, one was soft and melting,
the other a bunch of bones ; but both were very
white, and so equally adroit, that a double fee
passed without the possibility of a by-staflder
suspecting it.
For the betvefvt o? aW^oww^ virgins afflicted like
Julia Dodd, Yiere ate tYi^'DocXoic'^ ^xesitv5\:\Qtks.\
VERY HARD CASH.
29
FOR MISS DODD.
Pil: Hydrarg: Chlor: Co:
singul: nocte sumend:
Decoc: Aloes Co: 5j
omni mane.
viii. Sept. J. S.
Misft
FOR MISS DODD.
"Si Conf: SennsB.
Potass: Bitartrat.
Extr : Tarax : a a f ss.
Elect : Cujus sum : 3J omni mane,
xyiii. Sept. J. S.
Id : Anglice reddit : per me Carol t Arundin :
The same done into English by me C. R.
' FOB BOSS DODD.
1. O Jupiter aid us! ! Plummer's pill to be
taken every night. 1 oz. compound decoction
of Aloes every morning. 8th Sept. J. S.
FOR MISS DODD.
2. O Jupiter aid us ! ! with Confection of
Senna, Bitartrate of Potash, extract of Dande-
lion, of each half an ounce, let an electuary be
mixed ; of which let her take 1 drachm every
morning. 18th Sept. J. S.
"Quite the courtier,'' said Mrs. Dodd, de-
lighted. Julia assented : she even added, with
a listless yawn, '*I had no idea that a skeleton
was such a gentlemanlike thing ; I never saw
one before."
Mrs. Dodd admitted he was very thin.
" Oh no, mamma ; thin implies a little flesh.
When he felt my pulse, a chill struck to my
heart ; Death in a black suit seemed to steal up
to me, and lay a finger on my wrist : and mark
me for his own."
Mrs. Dodd forbade her to give way to such
gloomy ideas ; and expostulated firmly with her
forjudging learned men by their bodies. "How-
ever," said she, ** if the good, kind doctor's rem-
edies do not answer his expectations and mine,
I shall take you to London directly. I do hope
papa will soon be at home."
Poor Mrs. Dodd was herself slipping into a
morbid state. A mother collecting Doctors!
It is a most fascinating kind of connoisseurship ;
grows on one like Drink ; like Polemics ; like
Melodrama; like the Millennium; like any
Thing.
Sure enough the very next week she and Julia
sat patiently at the morning levee of an eminent
and titled London surgeon. Full forty patients
were before them : so they had to wait and wait.
At last they were ushered into the presence-
chamber, and Mrs. Dodd entered on the beaten
ground of her daughter's symptoms. The noble
surgeon stopped her civilly but promptly. * * Aus-
cultation will give us the clew," said he, and drew
his stethoscope. Julia shrank, and cast an ap-
pealing look at her mother ; but Mrs. Dodd per-
suaded her to it by taking part in the ^mina-
tion, and making it as delicate as possibWi'; The
young lady sat panting, with cheeks flushing
shame, and eyes flashing indignation. The im-
passive chevalier reported on each organ in
turn without moving his ear from the key-hole.
"Lungs prett/f sound/' said he, a little plain-
tJreljr; **80 is the liver. Now for the Hum?
There is no kardiac insufficiency, I think, neither
mitral nor tricuspid. If we find no tendency to
hypertrophy we shall do very well. Ah, I have
succeeded in diagnosing a slight diastolic mur-
mur ; very slight. " He deposited the instrument^
and said, not without a ceitain shade of satis-
faction, that his research had not been fruitless,
"The Heart is the peccant organ."
"Oh, Sir I is it serious?" said poor Mrs.
Dodd.
"B^ no means. Try this" (he scratched a
prescription which would not have lAisbecome
the tomb of Cheops); "and come again in a
month." Ting!. He struck a bell. That "ting"
said, " Go, live Guinea! and another come!"
" Heart disease now !" said Mrs. Dodd, sink-
ing back in her hired carriage, and the tears
were in her patient eyes.
"My own, own mamma," said Julia, earnest-
ly, " do not distress yourself! I have no disease
in the world, but my old, old, old one, of being
a naughty, wayward girl. As for you, mamma,
y^ have resigned your own judgment to your in-
feriors, and that is both our misfortunes. Dear,
dear mamma, do take me to a doctress next time,
if you have not had enough."
"To a what, love?"
"A she-doctor, then."
"A female physician, child? There is no
such thing. No ; assurance is becoming a char-
acteristic of our sex : but we have not yet in-
truded ourselves into the learned professions;
thank Heaven."
"Excuse me, mamma, there are one or two;
for the newspapers say so."
"Well, dear, there are none in this country ;
happily."
"What, not in London?"
"No."
"Then what is the use of such a great over-
grown place, all smoke, if there is nothing in it
you can not find in the country ? Let us go back
to Barkington this very day, this minute, this
instant; oh, pray, pray."
" And so you shall to-morrow. But you must
pity your poor mother's anxiety, and see Dr.
Chalmers first."
" Oh, mdii^ma, not another surgeon ! He fright-
ened me ; he hurt me ; I never heard of such a
thing ; he ought to be ashamed of himself; oh,
please not another surgeon."
"It is not a surgeon, dear; it is the Court
Physician."
The Court Physician detected "a somewhat
morbid condition of the great nervous centres."
To an inquiry whether there was heart-disease,
he replied, ' ' Pooh !" On being told Sir William
had announced heart-disease, he said, "Ah!
that alters the case entirely." He maintained,
however, that it must be trifling, and would go
no further, the nervous system once restored to
its healthy tone. "O, Jupiter, aid us! Blue
pill and black draught."
Dr Kenyon found the mucous membrane was
irritated and required soothing. "O, Jupiter,
etc. Blue pill and Seidlitz powder."
Mrs. Dodd returned home consoled and con-
fused; Julia listless and apathetic. Tea was
ordered, with two or three kinds of bread, thin-
nest slices of "mfcX,, :a^5^ \\VCifc \3vwi \s^w^.^{:?:^
etc., t\ieit fovOTltft xe^^x. fv.lvet . V5^5X^^5 \*^^
wbVle t\ie tea yivxs Octa.N\w^,^VR.^^^^^'^'^^''
80
VERY HAKD CASH.
oyer the card-tray and enumerated the visitors
that had called during their absence: '^Dr.
Short Mr. Osmond Mrs. Hetherington ^Mr.
Alfred Hardie Lady Dewry Mrs. and Miss
Bosanquet What a pity Edward was not at
home, dear; Mr. Alfred Hardie's visit most
have been to him.*'
"Oh, of course, mamma."
"A very manly young gentleman."
"Oh yes. No. He is so rude."
"Is he? Ah, he was ill just then, and pain
irritates gentlemen : they are not accustomed to
it, poor Things."
"That is like you, dear mamma ; making ex-
cuses for one." Julia added, faintly, * but he is
so impetuous."
" I have a daughter who reconciles me to im-
petuosity. And he must have a good heart, he
was so kind to my boy."
Julia looked down smiling; but presently
seemed to be seized with a spirit of contradic-
tion ; she began to pick poor Alfred to pieces ;
he was this, that, and the other ; and then .so
bold, she might say impudent.
Mrs. Dodd replied calmly that he was very
kind to her boy.
"Oh, mamma, you can not approve all the
words he spoke."
"It is not worth while to remember all the
words young gentlemen speak, nowadays; he
was very kind to my boy, I remember that."
The tea was now ready, and Mrs. Dodd sat
down, and patted a chair, with a smile of invita^
tion for Julia to come and sit beside her. But
Julia said, ^*In one minute, dear," and left the
room.
When she came back, she fluttered up to her
mother and kissed her vehemently, then sat down
radiant. "Ah!" said Mrs. Dodd, "why, you
are looking yourself once more. How do you
feel now? Better?"
"How do I feel? Let me see: the world
seems one e-nor-mous flower-garden, and Me
the butterfly it all belongs to. " She spake, and
to confirm her words the airy thing went waltz-
ing, sailing, and fluttering round the room, and
sipping mamma every now and then on the
wing. A
In this buoyancy she remained some twenty-
four hours; and then came clouds and chills,
which, in their turn, gave way to exultation,
duly followed by depression. Her spirits were
so uncertain, that things too minute to justify
narration turned the scale either way : a word
from Mrs. Dodd a new face at St. Anne's
Church looking devoutly her way a piece of
town gossip distilled in her ear by Mrs. Maxley
and she was sprightly or languid, and both
more than reason.
Mrs. Dodd had not the clew ; and each ex-
treme caused her anxiety ; for her own constitu-
tion, and her experience of life, led her to con-
nect health, and happiness too, with gentle,
even spirits.
One drizzly afternoon they were sitting silent
and saddish in the drawing-room, Mrs. Dodd
correcting the mechanical errors in a drawing
of Julia's, and admiring the rare dash and vig-
or, and Jnlia. doggedly studying' Dr. Whate-
Jj^^ tiogic, with now and then a sigh, when
fM V^^ ^ ^7m/?e^ seemed to articulate in the
&///a ha/J: '^Mestresa Doedd at home ?"
The lady rose from her seat, and said, with a
smile of pleasure, "I hear a voice."
The door opened, and in darted a hard-feat-
ured, gray-headed man, laughing and shouting
like a school-boy broke loose. He cried out,
" Ahal I've found y' out at last." Mrs. Dodd
glided to meet him, and put out both her hands,
the palms downward, with the prettiest air of
lady-like cordiality; he shook them heartily.
"The vagabins said y' had left the town ; but y*
had only flitted from the quay to the subbubs ;
'twas a pashint put me on the scint of ye. And
how are y' all these years ? an' how's Sawmill ?"
" Sawmill ! What is that ?"
" It's just your husband. Isn't his name Saw-
mifl?"
"Dear, no! Have you forgotten? ^David."
" Ou, ay. I knew it was some Scripcher Pe-
trarch or another, Daavid, or Naatban, or Saw-
mill. He is a fine lad any way and how is he,
and where is he ?"
Mrs. Dodd replied that he was on the seas,
but expect
"Then I wish him well ofi^'em, confound 'em
onenall! Halloa! why, this will be the little
girl groym up int' a wumman while ye look
round."
" Yes, my good friend ; and her mother's dar
ling."
" And she's a bonny lass, I can tell ye. But
no freend to the Dockers, I see."
"Ah!" said Mrs. Dodd, sadly, "looks are de-
ceitful; she is under medical advice at this
very "
" Well, that won't hurt her, unless she takes
it." And he burst into a ringing laugh : but,
in the middle of it, stopped dead short, and his
face elongated. "Lordsake, mad'm," said he,
impressively, "mind what y' are at, though;
Barkton's just a trap for fanciful femuls : there's
a n'oily ass called Osmond, and a canting cut-
throat called Stephenson, and a genteel, cada*
veris old assassin called Short, as long as a
may-pole ; they'd soon take the rose out of Miss
Floree's cheek here. Why, they'd starve Cu-
pid, an' veneseck Venus, an' blister Pomonee,
the vagabins."
Mrs. Dodd looked a little confused, and ex-
changed speaking glances with Julia. How-
ever, she said, calmly, "I have consulted Mr.
Osmond and Dr. Short, but have not relied on
them alone. I have taken her to Sir William
Best. And to Dr. Chalmers. And to Dr. Ken-
yon." And she felt invulnerable behind her pha-
lanx of learning and reputation.
"Good HivensI" roared the visitor, "what a
gauntlet o' gabies for one girl to run ; and come
out alive ! And the picter of health. My faith,
Miss Floree, y' are tougher than ye look."
"My daughter's name is Julia," observed
Mrs. Dodd, a little haughtily ; but instantly re-
covering herself, she said, "This is Dr. Samp-
son, love, an old friend of your mother's."
"And th' Author an' Invintor of th' great
Chronothairmal Therey o* Midicine, th' Unity
Perriodicity an' Remittency f all disease," put
in the visitor, with such prodigious swiftness of
elocution, that the words went tumbling over
one another like railway carriages out on pleas-
ure, and the sentence was a pile of loud, indis-
tinct syllables.
Julia's lovely eyc% d\\a\ft^ sit \hi^ Oi\&VTCkA\ar
VERY HAKD CASH.
81
er, and she bowed coldly. Dr. Sampson was
repulsive to her: he had revealed in this short
interview nearly all the characteristics of voice,
speech, and manner she had been taught from
infancy to shun : boisterous, gesticulator^^f Idio-
matic ; and had taken the discourse out of her
mamma's mouth twice; now Albion Villa was
a Bed Indian hut in one respect: here nobody
interrupted.
Mrs. Dodd had little personal egotii^n], hnt
she had a mother's, and could not spare this
opportunity of adding another Doctor lo ber
collection: so she said, hurriedly, "Will you
permit me to show you what your learned txn-
fi^res have prescribed her ?" Julia sighed aloud,
and deprecated the subject with earnest furtive
signs; Mrs. Dodd would not see them. Now,
r^. Sampson was himself afflicted with what 1
shall venture to call a mental ailment; to wit, a
furious intolerance of other men's opinioDs ^ be
had not even patience to hear them.
"Mai dear mad'm," said he, hastiljj
"when you've told me their names, that's otuni;h.
Short treats her for liver. Sir William goRs in for
lung disease or heart, Chalmers sis it's tpc nairvcst
and Einyon the mukis membrin ; andf/ say they
are fools and lyres all four."
" Jidia !" ejaculated Mrs. Dodd, " this h very
extraordinary."
* * No, it is not extraordinary, " cried Dr. Samp-
son, defiantly : " nothing is extraordinary. And
d'ye think Tve known these shallow men thirty
years, and not plumbed 'um?'*
"Shallow, my good friend? Excuse rae!
they are the ablest men in your own brunch of
your own learned profession."
"Th* ablest?! Oh, you mean the moncy-
makingest: now listen me! our laimed Profes-
sion is a rascally one. It is like a barr(d of beer.
What rises to the top ?" Here he paused, for a
moment, then answered himself furiously, " The
Scum!"
This blast blown, he moderated a little, * ' L ook
see!" said he, " up to three or four thousnnd a
year, a Docker is often an honest mtm, and
sometimes knows something of midicin^^: not
much, because it is not taught any where ; bat
if he is making over five thousand, he luui^t be a
rogue, or else a fool: either he has booed an'
booed, and cript an' crawled, int' wholesale col-
lusion with th' apothecary an' th' acconcbciur
the two jockeys that drive John BuWa faemily
coach and they are sucking the pashint togi til-
er like a leash o' leeches ; or else he has turned
spicialist; has tacked his name to some poplar
disorder, real or imaginary ; it needn't exm to
be poplar. Now, those four you have been to
are spicialists, and that means monomanincs
why on airth didn't ye come to me among the
rest? their buddies exspatiate in Wc&t-md
squares, but their souls dwell in a n'alkj ivcry
man Jack of 'em : Aberford's in Stomicli Alley,
Chalmers's in Nairve Court, Short's niver stirs
out o' Liver Lane, Paul's is stuck fast in Kidney
Close, Ejnyon's in Mukis Membrin Mews, and
Hibbards's in Lung Passage. Look sec t tiixt
time y' are out of sorts, stid o' consulting three
bats an' a n'owl at a guinea the piece, send di^
rect to me, and I'll give y' all their opinioTiji*
and all their prescriptions, gratis. And dee-
ilich dear ye'll find 'em at the price, if ye swal-
Mrs. Dodd thanked him coldly for the ofier,
but said she would be more grateful if he would
show his superiority to persons of known ability,
by just curing her daughter on the spot.
"Well, I will," said he, carelessly; and all
his fire died out of him. * * Put out your tongue I
Now your pulse !"
CHAPTER V.
Mrs. Dodd knew her man (ladies are very
apt to fathom their male acquaintance too apt,
/ think) ; and, to pin him to the only medical
theme which interested her, seized the oppor-
tunity while he was in actual contact with Julia's
wrist, and rapidly enumerated her symptoms, and
also told him what Mr. Osmond had said about
Hyperoesthesia.
"GroosE Greece 1" barked Sampson, loud,
clear, and sharp as an irritated watch-dog ; but
this one bow-wow vented, he was silent as
abruptly.
Mrs. Dodd smiled, and proceeded to Hyperce-
mia, and thence to the Antiphlogistic Kegimen.
At that unhappy adjective, Sampson jumped
up, cast away hia ^a.l\eaV% \wKcA^^w^\\vt ir-
istencQ ^e Nvaa \i\xX ^, ^vxv^ss% \w^\sS5k.\w^-
and gaWove^ mlo \i\* xi^'os^x^^w^Q^^xvet^^^ass^
32
VERY HARD CASH.
"Antiphlogistic! Mai dear ^mad'm, that
one long fragmint of ass's jaw has slain a million.
Adapted to the weakness of human nature,
which receives with rivirince ideas, however
childish, that come draped in long-tailed and
exotic words, that aasinine polysyllable has ric-
onciled the modem mind to the chimeras of th'
ancients, and oatbutchered the guillotine, the
musket, and the sword : ay, and but for me
Had barred the door
For dnturiee more,
on the great coming sceince, the sceince of heal-
ing diseases instead of defining, and dividing
'em, and lengthening their names and their du-
rashin, and shortening nothing but the pashint.
Th' antiphlogistic Therey is this : That Disease
is fiery, and that any artificial exhaustion of vital
force must cool the system, and reduce the mor-
bid fire, called, in their donkey Latin, * flamma,'
and in their compound donkey Latin, 'inflam-
mation,' and, in their Goose Greece, * phlogosis,'
'phlegmon,' etc, And accordingly th' anti-
phlogistic Practice is, to cool the sick man by
bleeding him, and, when blid, either to rebleed
him with a change of instrument, bites and stabs
instid of gashes, or else to rake the blid, and
then blister the blid and raked, and then push
mercury till the teeth of the blid, raked, and
blistered, shake in their sockets, and to starve
the blid, purged^ salivated, blistered wretch from
first to last. Tmis is the Antiphlogistic system.
It is seldom carried out entire, because the pa-
shint at the fii*st or second link in their rimedial
chain, expires ; or else gives such plain signs of
sinking, that even these ass-ass-ins take fright,
and try t' undo their own work, not disease's, by
tonics an' turtle, and stimulants ; which things
given at the right time instid of the Mrrong, given
when the pashint was merely weakened by his
disorder, and not enfeebled by their didly rime-
dies, would have cut th' ailment down in a few
hours."
"Dear me!" said Mrs. Dodd; "and now,
my good friend, with respect to my daughter "
"N' list me.'" clashed Sampson; "ye're
goen to fathom th' antiphlogistics, since they
still survive an' slay in holes and comers like
Barkton an d'ltly; I've driven the vamperes
out o' the cintres o' civilisation. Begin with their
coolers! Exhaustion is not a cooler, it is a
feverer, and they know it ; the way parrots know
sentences. Why are we all more or less feverish
at night ? because we are weaker. Starvation is
no cooler, it is an inflamer, and they know it, as
parrots know truths, but can't apply them : for
they know that buming fever rages in ivery
town, street, camp, where Famine is. As for
blood-letting, their prime cooler, it is inflamma-
tory; and they know it (parrot-wise), for the
thumping heart, and bounding pulse, of pashints
blid by butchers in black, and bullocks blid by
butchers in blue, prove it ; and they have record-
ed this in all their books : yet stabbed, and bit,
and starved, and mercuried, and murdered, on.
Bat mind ye, all their sham coolers are real
weakeners (I wonder they didn't inventory Satin
and his brimstin lake among their refrijrators),
and this is the point whence t' appreciate their
Imbediity, and the sairvice I have rendered
niADkind in been the Brat t' attack their banded
^^ool, at a time it seemed imprignable."
^^AA, this promises to he very interesting,"
sighed Mrs. Dodd; "and before you enter on so
large a field, perhaps it would be as well to dis-
pose of a little matter which lies at my heart.
Here is my poor daughter "
"Nlissmee! a human Bean is in a con-
stant state of flux and reflux; his component
particles move, change, disappear, and are re-
newed ; his life is' a round of exhaustion and re-
pair. Of this repair, the brain is the sovereign
ajint by night and day ; and the blood the great
living material; and digestible food th' indis-
pensible supply. And this balance of exhaustion
and repair is too nice to tamper with ; disn't a
single sleepless night, or dinnerless day, write
some pallor on the face, and tell against the
buddy ? So does a single excessive perspiration,
a trifling diary, or a cut finger, though it takes
but half an ounce of blood out of the system.
And what is the cause of that rare ivint it
occurs only to pashints that can't afibrd docking
^Dith from old age ? Think ye the man really
succumms under years, or is mowed down by
Time ? Nay, yon's just Potry an Bosh. Na-
shins have been thinned by the lancet, but niver
by the scythe ; and years are not forces, but mis-
ures of evints. No, Centenarius decays and dies,
bekase his bodil' expinditure goes on ; and his
bodir income lessens by failure of the reparative
and reproductive forces. And now sujipose bod-
il' exhaustion and repair were a mere matter of
pecuniary, instid of vital, economy ; what would
you say to the steward, or housekeeper, who, to
balance your accounts and keep you solvint,
should open every known channel of expinse
with one hand, and with the other stop the
supplies ? Yet this is how the Dockers for thir-
ty cinturies have burned th' human candle at
both ends, yet wondered the light of life expired
under their hands."
"It seems irrational. Then in my daughter's
case you would ^"
" Looksee I A pashint falls sick. What haps
directly ? Why the balance is troubled, and ex-
haustion exceeds repair. For proof, obsairve the
buddy when Disease is fresh !
And you will always find a loss of flesh.
To put it economikly, and then you must under-
stand it, been a housekeeper
Whativer the Disease, its form, or essence,
Expinditure goes on, and income lessens.
To this sick and therefore weak man, enter a
Docker purblind with cinturies of Cant, Prici-
dint. Blood, and Goose Greece ; imagines him a
fiery pervalid, though the common sense of man-
kind, through its interpreter common language,
pronounces him, what he is and looks, an in-
valid,' gashes him with a lancet, spills out the
great liquid material of all repair by the gallon,
and fells this weak man, wounded now, and pale,
and fainting, with Dith stamped on his face, to
th' earth, like a bayoneted soldier or a slaugh-
tered ox. If the weak man, wounded thus and
weakened, survives, then the chartered Thugs
who have drained him by the bung-hole, turn' to
and drain him by the spigot; they rake him,
and then blister him, and then calomel him:
and lest Nature should have the ghost of a
chance to counter-balance these frightful out-
goings, they keep strong meat and drink out of
his system emptied by their stabs, bites, purges,
mercury, and \i^\feTS", daxrvdv^wsX K^^ \.\\\x.t.,
VERY HARD CASH.
83
Asia excipted, was profissional Midicine from
Hippocrates to Sampsin ; Antiphlogistic is but a
modem name for an ass-ass-inating routine
which has niver yaricd a hair since scholastic
midicine, the silliest and didliest of all the hun-
dred forms of Quackery, first rose unlike See-
ince. Art, Religion, and all true Suns in the
West ; to wound the sick ; to weaken the weak ;
and mutilate the hurt; and ^Thin Mankind!"
The voluble impugner of his own profession
delivered these last two words in thunder so
sudden and efiective as to strike Julia's work
out of her hands. But here, as in Nature, a
moment's pause followed the thunder-clap; so
Bfrs. Dodd, who had long been patiently watch-
ing her opportunity, smothered a shriek, and
edged in a word: "This is irresistible; you
have confuted every body ; to their hearts' con-
tent : and now the question is, what course shall
we substitute ?" She meant, " in the great case,
which occupies me." But Sampson attached a
nobler, wider, sense to her query.
" What course ? Why the great Chronothair-
mal practice, based on the remittent and febrile
character of all disease ; above all, on
The law of Perriodicity, a law
Whence Blidicine yet has wells of light to draw.
By Remittency, I mean th' ebb of Disease, by
Perriodicity, th' ebb and also the flow, the pa-
roxysm and the remission. These remit and
recur, and keep time like the tides, not in ague
and remittent fever only, as the Profission im-
agines to this day, but in all diseases from a
Scirrhus in the Pylorus t' a toothache. And I
discovered this, and the new paths to cure of
all diseases it opens. Alone I did it : and what
my reward ? hooted, insulted, belied, and called
a quack, by the banded school of profissional
assassins, who, in their day hooted Harvey and
Jinner, authors too of great discoveries, but dis-
coveries narrow in their consequences compared
with mine. T' appreciate Chronothairmalism,
je must begin at the beginning ; so just answer
me What is Man ?"
At this huge inquiry whirring up all in a
moment, like a cock pheasant in a wood, Mrs.
Dodd saiik back in her chair despondent. See-
ing her hors de combat, Sampson turned to Julia
and demanded, twice as loud, "What is Man?"
Julia opened two violet eyes at him, and then
looked at her mother for a hint how to proceed.
"How can that child answer such a ques-
tion?" sighed Mrs. Dodd. "Let us return to
the point."
"I have never strayed an inch from it. It's
about Young Physic."
"No, excuse me, it is about a young lady.
Universal Medicine! what have I to do with
that?'
"Now this is the way with them all," cried
Sampson, furious; "there lowed John Bull.
The men and women of this benighted nashin
have an ear for any thing ; provided it matters
nothing: Talk Jology, Conchology, Entomolo-
gy, I'heology, Meteorology, Astronomy, Deuter-
onomy, Botheronomy, or Boshology, and one is
listened to with riverence, because these are all
far-off things in fogs ; but at a word about the
giat, near, useful art of Healing, y' all stop
your ears ; for why ; your life and dailianourly
happiness depend on it But *no,' sis John
Ball, the knowledge of our own baddies, and
how to save our own Bakin, Beef I mean, day
by day from disease and chartered ass-ass-ins,
all that may interest the thinkers in Saturn, but
what the deevil is it t' us t talk t' us of the hiv'n-
ly buddies, not of our own. Babble o' comets
an' meteors an' Etherial nibulae (never mind the
nibulsB in our own skulls). Discourse t' us of
Predistinashin, Spitzbairgen sea-weed, the last
novel, the siventh vile; of Chrischinising the
Patagonians on condition they are not to come
here, and Chrischinise the Whitechapelians ; of
the letter to the 7Ywe from the tinker wrecked
at Timbuctoo ; and the dear Professor's lecture
on the probabeelity of snail-shells in the back-
yard of the moon! but don't ask us to know
ourselves I lijits ! !"
The eloquent speaker, depressed by the per-
versity of Englishmen in giving their minds to
every part of creation but their bodies, suffered
a momentary loss of energy ; then Mrs. Dodd,
who had long been watching lynx-like, glided in.
"Let us compound. You are for curing all the
world, beginning with Nobody. My ambition
is to cure my girl, and leave mankind in peace.
Now if you will begin with my child, I will sub-
mit to rectify the universe in its proper turn.
Any time will do to set the human race right ;
you own it is in no hurry : but my child's case
presses; so do pray cure her for me."
"Mai dear mad'm; cure her! How on
airth am I to do that ?"
"At least tell me what her Indisposition is."
"Oh! What, didn't I tell you? WeU, there's
nothing the matter with her."
At receiving this cavalier reply for the reward
of all her patience, Mrs. Dodd was so hurt, and
so nearly angry, that she rose with dignity from
her seat, with her cheek actually pink, and the
water in her eyes. Sampson saw she was ruffled,
and appealed to Julia of all people. " There i
now. Miss Julee," said he, ruefully ; " she is in a
rage because I won't humbug her. Poplus voolt
docipee. I tell you, ma'am, it is not a midical
case ; give me disease and I'll euro 't. Stop, I'll
tell ye what do ; let her take and swallow the
Barkton Docks' prescriptions, and Butcher Best's,
and canting Kinyon's, and after those four tink-
ers there'll be plenty holes to mend ; then send
for me !"
Here was irony. Mrs. Dodd retorted by
finesse ; she turned on him with a sugared smile,
and said : " Never mind doctors and patients ; it
is so long since we met ; I do hope you will w^iivo
ceremony, and dine with me en ami."
He accepted with pleasure ; but must return
to his inn first and get rid of his dirty boots, and
pashints. And with this he whipped out his
watch, and saw that, dealing with universal
medicine, he had disappointed more than one
sick individual ; so shot out as hard as he had
shot in, and left the ladies looking at one anoth-
er after the phenomenon.
"Well!" said Julia, with a world of meaning.
"Yes, dear," replied Mrs. Dodd, "he is a
little eccentric. I think I will request them to
make some addition to the dinner."
"No," mamma, if you please, not to put mc
off so transparently ; tell me first the reason ^qvl
did not tmg lYi^ bdX, mv^\sA SXns. ^\:s^tx. ^"^kv-
duct that man lo \\v^i (iiO^iT^^^rj^N^^ ^'axV^^^v
the confcteiMi^i'i It ^ cil^ \\A,^Tt\s.\Xft.^. -^^^^
84
VEBY HAKD CASH.
shouted, and behaved so, you would have packed
me off to bed, or somewhere, directly."
" Don*t say * packed,' love. Dismissed me to
bed."
** Ah !" cried Julia, ** you are yourself again :
that privileged person is gone, and we must all
mind our P's and Q's once more. This is more
than natural. You would not lay down your
character for a single person, to take it up again
the moment he was gone without a reason.
Here is some mystery." Then she clasped her
hands, and raised them to Heaven, just like the
best statues; "my own mother has a secret;
a secret from her Julia. Well, I deserve it."
This acknowledgment slipped out through speak-
ing too fast, and was no sooner uttered than
thk statuesque Hebe hung her head most pro-
saically, aind looked as if she could bite her
tongue off."
Mrs. Dodd, with an air of nonchalance, re-
plied to the effect that Dr. Sampson was not her
offspring ; and so she was not bound to correct
his eccentricities. ** And I suppose," said she,
lazily, "we must accept these extraordinary
people as we find them ; and it is time to dress
for dinner."
That day her hospitable board was spread
over a trap. Blessed with an oracle irrelevant-
ly fluent, and dumb to the point, she had asked
him to dinner with maternal address. He could
not be on his guard eternally ; sooner or later,
through inadvertence, or in a moment of con-
vivial recklessness, or in a parenthesis of some
grand Generality, he would cure her child ; or,
perhaps, at his rate of talking, would wear out
all his idle themes, down to the very " well-be-
ing of mankind;" and then Julia's mysterious
indisposition would come on the blank tapis.
With these secret hopes she presided at the feast,
all grace and gentle amity. Julia, too, sat down
with a little design, but a very different one, viz.
of being very chilly company, for she disliked
this new acquaintance cordially, and hated the
science of medicine.
The unconscious Object chatted away with
both, and cut their replies very short, and did
strange things; sent away Julia's chicken, re-
gardless of her scorn, and prescribed mutton :
called for Champagne and made her drink it,
and pout ; and thus excited Mrs. Dodd's hopes
that he was attending to the case by degrees.
But, after dinner, Julia, to escape medicine
universal, and particular, turned to her mother,
and dilated on the treachery of her literary
guide, the Criticaster. **It said *Odds and
Ends' was a good novel to read by the sea-side.
So I thought * then oh, how different it must be
from most books, if you can sit by the glorious
sea and even look at it.* So I sent for it direct-
ly, and, would you believe, it was an ignoble
thing ; all flirtation and curates. The sea, in-
deed ! A pond would be fitter to read it by ;
and one with a good many geese on."
" Was ever such simplicity ?" said Mrs. Dodd.
" Why, my dear, that phrase about the sea does
not mean any thing. I shall have you believing
that Mr. So-and-So, a novelist, can ^wither
/ashionable /blltfj* and that ^ a painful inddenf
to one shop-keeper has * throum a gloom' over a
irAo/e market-town, and so on. Nowadays "-
ery third phrase is of this character; a starling's
''ote. Once, it appears, there was an age of
gold, and then came one of iron, and then of
brass. All these are gone, and the age of 'jar-
gon' has succeeded."
She sighed, and Sampson took a " tremendous
header" off the sea-side novel into the sea of fic-
tion. He rechristened that joyous art Feckshin,
and lashed its living professors. " You devour
their three volumes greedily," said he, "but
after your meal you feel as empty as a drrum ;
there is no leading idea in 'um ; now, there al-
ways is in Molifere : and he comprehended the
midicine of his age. But what fundamental
truth d'our novelists iver convey ? All they can
do is pile incidents. Their customers dictate
th' article: unideaed melodrams for unideaed
girls. The writers and their feckshins belong
to one species, and that's * the uon-vertebrated
animals ;' and their midicine is Bosh ; why they
bleed still for falls and fevers ; and niver men-
tion vital chronometry. Then they don't look
straight at Nature, but see with their ears, and
repeat one another twelve deep. Now, listen
me ! there are the cracters for an ' ideaed feck-
shin'. in Barkington, and I'd write it, too, only
I haven't time, ye know."
At this, Julia, forgetting her resolution, broke
out, "Romantic characters in Barkington?
Who? who?"
* * Who should they be, but my pashints ? Ay,
ye may lauch. Miss Julee, but wait till ye see
them." He was then seized with a fit of candor,
and admitted that some, even of his pashints,
were colorless ; indeed, not to mince the matter,
six or seven of that sacred band were nullity in
person. "I can compare the beggars to no-
thing," said he, "but the globules of the Do-
Nothings ; dee d insipid, and nothing in 'em.
But the others make up. Man alive, I've got
* a rosy cheeked miser, * and an * ill-used attor-
ney,' and an * honest Screw,' he is a gardener,
with a hid like a cart-horse."
"Mamma! mamma! that is Mr. Maxley,"
cried Julia, clapping her hands, and thawing in
her own despite.
"Then there's my virgin martyr, and my
puppy ; they are brother and sister ; and there's
their father, but he is an impenetrable dog-*-
won't unbosom. Howiver, he sairves to draw
chicks for the other two, and so keep 'em goen.
By-the-by, you know my puppy."
" We have not that honor. Do we know Dr.
Sampson's puppy, love?" inquired Mrs. Dodd,
rather languidly.
"Mammal I I know no one of that
name."
"Don't tell me! Why it was he sent me
here: told me where you lived, and I was to
make haste, for Miss Dodd was very ill : it is
young Hardie, the banker's son, you know."
Mrs. Dodd said, good-humoredly, but with a
very slight touch of irony, that really they were
very much flattered by the interest Mr. Alfred
Hardie had shown ; especially as her daughter
had never exchanged ten words with him. Julia
colored at this statement, the accuracy of which
she had good reason to doubt; and the poor
girl felt as if an icicle passed swiftly along her
back. And then, for the first time in her life,
she thought her mother hardly gracious; and
she wanted to say she was obliged to Mr. AlTred
Hardie, but dared not, and despised herself for
not daring. Hex compowxTi^ftai\jLT\)afex AX\5Jckftd
VEBY HABD CASH.
85
by Mrs. Dodd looking full at her, and saying,
interrogadvely, " I wonder how that young gen-
tleman could know about your being ill ?"
At this Julia eyed her plate very attentively,
and murmured, **I believe it is all over the
town : and seriously too, so Mrs. Maxley says ;
for she tells me that, in Barkington, if more than
one doctor is sent for, that bodes ill for the pa-
tient"
''Deevelich ill," cried Sampson, heartily:
i ^For two phjraiciaziB, like a pair of oan,
Condnck him faster to the StyJUjla shores.***
Julia looked him in the face, and coldly ig-
nored this perversion of Mrs. Maxle/s meaning ;
and Mrs. Iodd returned pertinaciously to the
previous topic. "Mr. Alfred Hardie interests
me : he was good to Edward. I am curious to
know why you call him a puppy ?"
" Only because he is one, ma'am. And that is
no reason at all with * the Six.' He is a juveneel
pidant, and a puppy, and contradicts ivery new
truth, bekase it isn't in Aristotle and th' Eton
grammar ; and he's such a chatter-box, ye can't
get in a word idgeways ; and he and his sister
that's my virgin martyr are a farce. He
keeps sneerin' at her relijjin, and that puts her
in such a rage, she thritens * t' intercede for him
at the Throne.'"
* Jargon," sighed Mrs. Dodd, and just shrug-
ged her lovely shoulders. *' We breathe it we
float in an atmosphere of it. My love ?" And
she floated out cf the room, and Julia floated
after.
"Yon look flushed, love," was Mrs. Dodd's
first word in the drawing-room. "Lie on the
sofa a minute, and compose yourself."
Sampson nuade grog and sipped it, meditating
on the gullibility of man in matters medial.
This favorite speculation detained him late, and
almost his first word on entering the drawing-
room was, ** Good-night, little girl."
Julia colored at this broad hint, drew herself
up, and lighted a bed-candle. She went to Mrs.
Bodd, killed her, and whispered in her ear, "I
bate him !" and, as she retired, her whole ele-
gant person launched lady-like defiance ; under
which brave exterior no little uneasiness was
hidden. * * O, what will become of me !" thought
she, " if Ae has gone and told him about Henley."
" Let's see the prescriptions, ma'am," said Dr.
Sampson.
Delighted at this concession, Mrs. Dodd took
them out of her desk and spread them earnestly.
He ran his eye over them, and pointed out that
the mucous membrane man and the nerve man
had prescribed the same medicine, on irrecon-
cilable grounds; and a medicine, moreover,
whose efiEect on the nerves was nil, and on the
mncons membrane was not to soothe it, but plow
it and harrow it ; " and did not that open her
eyes?" He then reminded her that all these
doetoiB in consultation would have contrived to
agree. " But you," said he, ** have baffled the
collusiye swindle by which Dox arrived at a
sham uniformity honest uniformity can never
exist till scientific principles obtnin." Then,
with a sndden start, he compared her to Dan-
iel He was very fond of comparisons. "Danle,"
Mid he, ''questioned those two elderly blaggrds
apart, and thin they couldn't agree in a lie, ye
know, all for want of a * consultashin.' So says
you, *Well done, Danle, my lad.'"
" My dear friend, I am not so familiar with
giants as you do me the honor to imagine."
"Whist I Whist! and you said, 'I'll do a bit
o' Danle.'"
"Oh, quelle horreurl" cried Mrs. Dodd, in
unfeigned disgust.
"Listme! All four, been Danled, told y' a
difierent lie; and disn't that open your eyes?
Sceince, indeed ! Put an easy question t' any
real sceince ; will it sing ye four songs as wide
apart as the four winds of Hiven? Take a
pashint and his case to four lawyers, the most
abused of all Sceince's sons ; will they fling him
four impident guesses a thousand miles wide of
each other ; and ten thousand from the truth ?**
Mrs. Dodd seemed dazzled by this observa-
tion, and bowed her head in reluctant assent.
"Ye begin to see through 'em? Now then,
post nubila Phoebus : that is not donkey Latin,
ma'am, but the real article, and means, * After
four muddlehids see one Sampsin work.' To
begin, is the pashint in love?"
The doctor put this query in just the same
tone in which they inquire, "any expectora-
tion ?" But Mrs. Dodd, in reply, was less dry
and business-like. She started and lookei
aghast. This possibility had once, for a mo-
ment, occurred to her, but only to be rejected,
the evidence being all against it
"In love?" said she. "That child, and I
not know it!"
He said he had never supposed that. " But
I thought I'd just ask ye ; because she has no
bodily ailment, and the paassions are all coun-
terfeit diseases ; they are connected, like all dis-
eases, with cerebral instability, have their heats
and chills, like all diseases, and their paroxysms
and remissions, like all diseases. Nlistme ! You
have detected the sighs of a slight cerebral in-
stability ; I have ascertained th' absence of all
physical cause : then why make this healthy pa-
shint's buddy a test-tube for poisons? Sover-
eign drugs (I deal with no other, I leave the
nullities to the noodles) are either counterpois-
ons, or poisons, and here there is nothing to
counterpoison at prisent. So I'm for caushin,
and working on the safe side th' hidge, and
that's the mintal ; till we are less in the dark.
Mind ye, young women at her age are kittle
cattle ; they have gusts o' this, and gusts o' that,
th' unreasonable imps. D'ye see these two pieces
pasteboard ? They are tickets for a ball.
In Barkton town-halL**
"Yes, of course I see them," said Mrs. Dodd,
dolefully.
* * Well, I prescribe 'em. And when they have
been taken.
And the pashint well shaken,
perhaps we shall see whether we are on the right
system : and if so, we'll dose her with youthful
soceity in a more irrashinal forrm; conversar-
ziones, cookeyshines, et citera. And if we find
ourselves on the wrong tack, why then we'll hark
hack, ^
Stick hlindly to ^ a coarse,* the dockers cry.
But it does me harm 1 Then * twill do ss^ fjvjKMVrli^).
Where lairaed ye \,WV"EJt^oe* ^ YxaMsea^ a.i \
The Wltei p\ow* ' & co\m Eie\k*\ax ^tcku^ \v.% ^ k-i.
So mystenona ax X\v^ ov^x^xasyoa o1 ^iXi^^waxwax^
BO
VERY HARD CASH.
**BUT I THOUGHT i'd JUST ASK YE."
mind, that, when we have exploded in verse
meritorious as the above, we lapse into triumph
instead of penitence. Not that doggrel meets
with reverence here below the statues to it are
few, and not in marble, but in the material it-
selfbut then an impromptu I A moment ago,
our Posy was not : and now is. "With the speed,
if not the brilliancy, of lightning, we have added
a handful to the intellectual dust-heap of an op-
pressed nation. From this bad eminence Samp-
son then looked down complacently, and saw
Mrs. Dodd*s faqe as long as his arm. She was
one that held current opinions ; and the world
does not believe Poetry can sing the Practical ;
verse and useful knowledge pass for incompati-
bles ; and though Doggrel is not Poetry, yet it
has a lumbering proclivity that way, and so for-
feits the confidence of grave, sensible people.
This versification, and this impalpable and un-
precedented prescription she had waited for so
long, seemed all of a piece to poor mamma;
wild, unpractical, and oh, horror! eccentric.
Sampson read her sotrowful face after his
fashion. "Oh, I see, ma'am," cried he. " Cure
IS not welcome unless it comes in the form con-
secrated bv cintaries of slaughter. Well, then,
g^tre me a sheet!" He took the paper and rent it
asunder, and wrote this on the larger fragment :
R. Die Mercur. circa x. hor : vespert :
eat in musca ad Pi'oetoriura.
Saltet cum xiii canicul :
propeertim meo. Dom : reddita,
6 hora matutin : donniat ad prund :
Repetat stultit : pro re nata.
He handed this with a sort of spiteful twinkle
to Mrs. Dodd, and her countenance lightened
again. Her sex will generally compound with
whoever can give as well as take. Now she had
extracted a real, grave, prescription, she acqui-
esced in the ball, though not a county one; "to
satisfy your whim, my good kind friend, to whom
I owe so much."
Sampson called on his way back to town, and,
in course of conversation, praised Nature for her
beautiful instincts, one of which, he said, had
inspired Miss Julee, at a credulous age, not to
swallow " the didly drastics o' the tinkerin dox."
Mrs. Dodd smiled, and requested permission
to contradict him ; her daughter had taken the
several prescriptions.
Sampson inquired brusquely if she took him
for a fool.
I She replied calmly : " No ; for a very clever,
' but rather opinionated personage."
\ "Opimuatfed? So is ivery man who has
VERY HARD CASH.
87
Dockers Short, an' Bist, an' Kinyon, an' Cuckoo,
an' Jackdaw, an' Starling, an* Co., don't know
^e dire efifecks of calomel an' drastics on the
buddy, I don't know't? Her eye, her tongue,
her skin, her voice, her elastic walk, all tell me
she has not been robbed of her vital resources.
Why, if she had taken that genteel old thief
Short's rimidies alone, the girl's gums would be
sore,
And henelf at Dith's door/*
Mrs. Dodd was amused. ''Julia, this is so
like the gentlemen ; they are in love with Argu-
ment. They go on till they reason themselves
out of their Reason. Why beat about the bush ;
when there she sits ?"
**What, go t' a wumman for the truth, when
* I can go t' infallible Inference ?"
"Yon may always go to my David's daughter
finr the truth," said Mrs. Dodd, with dignity.
She then looked the inquiry ; and Julia replied
to her look as follows : first, she colored very
high ; then, she hid her face in both her hands ;
then, rose and turning her neck swiftly, darted
a glance of fiery indignation and bitter reproach
on Dr. Meddlesome, and left the apartment
m^^ stag-like.
"Murcy on us!" cried Sampson. "Did ye
see that, ma'am ? Yen's just a bonny basilisk.
Anoth^ such thunder-bolt as she dispinsed, and
yeH be ringing for the maid to sweep up the
good physician's ashes."
Jnlia did not return till the good physician
vas gone back to London. Then she came in
with a rush, and, demonstrative toad, embraced
Mrs. Dodd's knees, and owned she had culti-
vated her geraniums with all those medicines,
liquid and solid ; and only one geranium had
died of them.
There is a fascinating age, when an intelligent
virgin is said to fluctuate between childhood and
womanhood. Let me add that these seeming
fluctuations depend much on the company she is
in; the budding virgin is princess of chame-
leons : and, to confine ourselves to her two most
piquant contrasts, by her mother's side she is
always more or less childlike: but, let a nice
young fellow engage her apart, and, hey presto !
she shall be every inch a woman ; perhaps at no
period of her life are the purely mental charac-
teristics of her sex so supreme in her: so her
type, the rose-bud, excels in essence of rosehood
the rose itself.
My reader has seen Julia Dodd play both
parts ; but it is her child's face she has now been
turning for several pages ; so it may be prudent
to remind him she has shone on Alfred Hardie
in but one light ; a young, but Juno-like, wo-
man. Had she shown " my puppy" her childish
qualities, he would have despised her ; he had
left that department himself so recently. But
Nature guarded the budding fair from, such a
disaster.
We left Alfred Hardie standing in the moon-
ll^t gazing at her lodging. Sudden ! But, let
slow coaches deny it as loudly as they like, fast
coaches exist ; and Love is a passion, which like
Hate, Envy, Avarice, etc., has risen to a great
height in a single day. Not that Alfred's was
"Love at first sight," for he had seen her beauty
in the full blaze of day with no deeper feeling
^ua admiration; bat in the moonlight he came
under more sovereign spells than a fair face:
among these were her virtues and her voice.
The narrative of their meeting has indicated the
first, and, as to the latter, Julia was not one of
those whose beauty goes out with a candle.
Her voice was that rich, mellow, moving organ,
which belongs to no rank nor station ; is born,
not made, and, flow it from the lips of dairy-
maid or countess, touches every heart, gentle or
simple, that is triily male. And this divine con-
tralto, full, yet penetrating, Dame Nature had
inspired her to lower when she was moved or
excited, instead of raising it ; and then she was
enchanting. All unconsciously she cast this
crowning spell on Alfred, and he adored her.
In a word, he caught a child-woman away from
its mother ; his fluttering captive turned, put on
composure, and bewitched him.
She left him, and the moonlight night seemed
to blacken. But within his young breast all was
light, new light. He leaned opposite her window
in an Elysian reverie, and let the hours go by.
He seemed to have vegetated till then, and loJ
true life had dawned. He thought he should
love to die for her. And, when he was calmer,
he felt he was to live for her, and welcomed his
destiny with rapture. He passed the rest of the
Oxford term in a soft ecstasy ; called often on
Edward, and took a sudden and prodigious in-
terest in him ; and counted the days glide by and
the happy time draw near, when he should be
four months in the same town with his enchant-
ress. This one did not trouble the doctors ; ho
glowed with a steady fire ; no heats and chills,
and sad misgivings i for one thing he was not a
woman, a being tied to that stake. Suspense,
and compelled to wait, and wait, for others' ac-
tions. As the inveterate Sampson would say :
He had the luck to be a male,
So, like a rat without a tail.
Could do, could do, could do.
Meantime, life's path, seemed paved with roses,
and himself to march it in eternal sunshine,
buoyed by perfumed wings.
He came to Barkington to try for the lovely
prize. Then first he had to come down from
love's sky, and realize how hard it is hei*e below
to court a young lady who is guarded by a
mother without an introduction in the usual
form. The obvious course was to call on Ed-
ward. Having parted from him so lately ho
forced himself to wait a few days, and then set
out for Albion Villa.
As he went along, he arranged the coming
dialogue for all the parties ; Edward was to in-
troduce him, Mrs. Dodd to recognize his friend-
ship for her son, he was td say he was the gainer
by it ; Julia, silent at first, was to hazard a timid
observation, and he to answer gracefully, and
draw her out, and find how he stood in her
opinion. The sprightly afiair should end by his
inviting Edward to dinner. That should lead to
their inviting him in turn, and then he should
get a word with Julia, and find out what houses
she visited, and get introduced to their proprie-
tors ; anived at this point, his mind went over
hedge and ditch faster than my poor pen can
follow. As the crow flies, so flew he, and had
reached the ch\iTiYi-^atQ\i \i\i\ax ^ xIyo. ^"^ ^ysssfc-
gays witVi 3n\\a *m \ma%\\ia.\XQrQ. \f3 S^\^w\^
arrived at AVUoii VvWa. m \)Qa\iQ^l- X^x^x^a
88
VERY HARD CASH.
knocked timidly ; his heart beat ahnost as hard
as his hand.
Sarah, the black-eyed house-maid, *' answered
the door."
CHAPTER VI.
"Mr. Edward Dodd?*'
"Not at home, Sir. Left last week."
"For long?'*
** I don't rightly know, Sir. But he won't be
back this week, I don't think."
"Perhaps," stammered Alfred, "the ladies
Mrs. Dodd might be^ble to tell me.*'
" Oh yes, Sir. But my mistress she*s in Lon-
don just now.**
Alfred's eyes flashed. " Could I learn from
Miss Dodd ?'
"La, Sir, she is in London along with her
ma ; why, 'tis for her they are gone ; to insult
the great doctors.**
He started. "She is not ill? Nothing se-
rious?"
" Well, Sir, we do hope not ; she is pining a
bit, as young ladies will.'*
Alfred was any thing but consoled by this off-
Aand account; be became alarmed, and looked
wretched. Seeing bim so perturbed, Sarah, who
^^ bJunt but good-natured, added, "But cook
she says hard work would cure our miss of all
she ails.*'
" Cook is an unfeeling wretch,** replied Alfred.
"Bless your heart, it belongs to her place, or
how could she skin them rabbits ? ha! ha! Who
shall I say was asking for her ? for my work is a
bit behindhand."
Alfred took the hint reluctantly, and drew out
his card-case, saying, " For Mr. Edward Dodd.**
She gave her clean but wettish hand a hasty
wipe with her apron, and took the card ; he re-
tired ; she stood on the step and watched him
out of sight, said "Oho !" and took his card to
the kitchen for preliminary inspection and dis-
cussion.
Alfred Hardie was resolute, but sensitive.
He had come on the wings of Love and Hope ;
he went away heavily: a housemaid's tongue
had shod his elastic feet with lead in a moment ;
of all misfortunes sickness was what he had not
anticipated, for she looked immortal. Perhaps
it was that fair and treacherous disease, con-
sumption. Well, if it was, he would love her
all the more, would wed her as soon as he was
of age, and carry her to some soft Southern
clime, and keep each noxious air at bay, and
prolong her life, perhaps save it.
And now he began to chafe at the social cob-
webs that kept him from her. But, just as his
impatience was about to launch him into impru-
dence, he was saved by a genuine descendant of
Adam. James Maxley kept Mr. Hardie's little
pleasaunce trim as trim could be, by yearly con-
tract. This entailed short but frequent visits ;
and Alfred often talked with him . for the man
was really a bit of a character ; had a shrewd
rustic wit and a ready tongue, was rather too
fond of law, and much too fond of money ; but
scrupulously honest: head as long as Cud-
worth's, but broader ; and could not read a line.
One day he told Alfred that he must knock off
now, and take a look in at Albion Villee ; the
captain was due ; and on no account would he,
Maxley, allow that there ragged box round the
captain's quarter-deck; "that is how he do
name their little mossel of a lawn : and there he
walks for a wager, athirt and across, across and
athirt, five steps and then about ; and I'd a'most
bet ye a half-penny he thinks hisself on the salt
sea ocean, bless his silly old heart."
All this time Alfred, after the first start of joy-
ful surprise, was secretly thanking his stars for
sending him an instrument. To learn whether
she had returned, he asked Maxley whether the
ladies had sent for him.
"Not they," said Maxley, rather contemptu-
ously ; ''what do women-folk care about a bor-
der, without 'tis a lace one to their night-caps ;
for none but the devil to see. Not as I have
ought to say again the pair ; they keep their turf
tidyish and pay ready money and a few flow-
ers in their pots ; but the rest may shift for itself.
Ye see. Master Alfred," explained Maxley, wag-
ging his head wisely, "nobody's pride can be ev-
ery where ; now theirs is in-a-doors ; their with-
drawing-room it's like the Queen's palace, my
missus tells me ; she is wrapped up in 'em, ye
know. But the captain for my money."
The sage shouldered his tools and departed.
But he left a good hint behind him. Alfred
hovered a\)o\xt. the \ia.ck door next day till he
I caught MlTS. "Maxiej , s\i^ ^M-^^^i'ss^ xJoa Vq^jsa
VERY HARD CASH.
89
with eggs and Yegetables. Could she tell him
whether his friend Edward Dodd was likely to
come home soon?" She thought not; he was
gone awaj to study. ''He hasn^t much head-
piece, you know, not like what Miss Julia have
Mis, and Miss are to be home to-day; they
wrote to cook this morning. I shall be there to-
morrow, sartain, and 1*11 ask in the kitchen when
Master Edward is a coming back.**
Alfred saw he had fallen into the right hands ;
here was a good soul who only wanted starting
to give many answers to few questions. He re-
flected a moment, then asked her could she bring
him two fresh eggs every morning ?
Who better ?** said she. " Why, we do lay
our own: only they come a little dearer than
the shop eggs ; but la ! a half-penny's not much
. to the Ukes of you."
''Grood things are never cheap,** said the sly
boy; ''so if you will be upon honor that they
are yours, and fresh, I'll stand sixpence for two
erery morning.**
" Sixpence for a couple of eggs !" cried Mrs.
Maxley, flushing all over with desire of gain.
"I durstn't do it; Jem he'd kill me.'*
"Nonsense! It is not for the eggs only, but
your trouble in bringing them : why, it is half a
mile."
** So 'tis. La ! to think of a young gentleman
like you vallying a poor woman's time ; and you
got nothing to do with youm, but fling it away
on cricketing and laming, which they don't make
nobody rich, they don't"
Love and Avarice soon struck a bargain, and
for once the nobler passion became as early a
bird as the other, and picked up many a good
crumb of intelligence. The ladies of Albion
Villa were good kind ladies; the very maid-
servants loved them ; Miss was more for religion
than her mother, and went to St. Anne's church
Thursday evenings, and Sundays morning and
evening ; and visited some poor women in the
parish with food and clothes ; Mrs. Dodd could
not sleep a wink when the wind blew hard at
night ; but never complained, only came down
pale to breakfast.. Miss Julia's ailment was no-
thing to speak of, but they were in care along
olbeing so wrapt up in her, and no wonder, for
if ever there was a duck . *
Acting on this intelligence, Alfred went earl^
the next Sunday to St. Anne's church, and sat
down in the side gallery at its east end. While
the congregation flowed quietly in, the organist
played the Agnus Dei of Mozart. Those pious
tender tones stole over this hot young heart, and
whispered, "Peace I be still!" He sighed weari-
ly, and it passed through his mind that it might
have been better for him, and especially for his
studies, if he had never seen her. Such instincts
are often prophetic. Suddenly the aisle seemed
to lighten up ; she was gliding along it, beautiful
as May, and modesty itself in dress and carriage.
She went into a pew and kneeled a minute, then
seated herself and looked out the lessons for the
day. Alfred gazed at her face; devoured it.
But her eyes never roved. She seemed to have
put off feminine curiosity, and the world, at the
church door. Indeed, he wished she was not
aoite so heavenly discreet ; her lashes were de-
clous, but he longed to see her eyes once more ;
to catch a glance from them, and, by it, decipher
But, no; she was there to worship, and did
not discern her earthly lover, whose longing
looks were glued to her, and his body rose and
sank with the true worshipers, but with no more
spirituality than a piston, or a Jack-in-the-box.
In the last hymn before the sermon, a well-
meaning worshiper in the gallery delivered a
leading note, a high one, with great zeal, but
small precision, being about a semitone flat ; at
this outrage on her too sensitive ear Julia Dodd
turned her head swiftly to discover the oflender ;
and failed : but her two sapphire eyes met Al-
fred's point-blank.
She was crimson in a moment, and lowered
them on her book again, as if to look that way
was to sin. It was but a flash : but sometimes a
flash fires a mine.
The lovely blush deepened and spread before
it melted away, and Alfred's late cooling heart
warmed itself at that sweet glowing cheek. She
never looked his way again, not once: which
was a sad disappointment ; but she blushed again
and again before the service ended, only not so
deeply : now, there was nothing in the sermon
to make her blush. I might add, there was no-
thing to redden her cheek with religious excite-
ment. There was a little candid sourness oil
and vinegar against sects and low churchmen ;
but thin generality predominated. Total : "Ace-
tate of morphia," for dry sdlils to sip.
So Alfred took all the credit of causing those
sweet irrelevant blushes; and gloated: the
young wretch could not help glorying in his
power to tint that fair statue of devotion with
earthly thoughts.
But stay ! that dear blush, was it pleasure or
pain ? What if the sight of him was intolera-
ble?
He would know how he stood with her, and
on the spot. He was one of the first to leave
the church ; he made for the church-yard gate,
and walked slowly backward and forward by it,
with throbbing heart till she came out.
She was prepared for him now, and bowed
slightly to him with the most perfect composure,
and no legible sentiment,' except a certain marked
politeness many of our young ladies think wasted
upon young gentlemen ; and are mistaken.
Alfred took off his hat in a tremor, and his
eyes implored and inquired, but met with no
further response ; and she walked swiftly home,
though without apparent eflbrt. He looked '
longingly after her ; but discretion forbade.
He now crawled by Albion Villa twice every
day, wet or dry, and had the good fortune to see
her twice at the drawing-room window. He
was constant at St. Anne's church, and one
Thursday crept into the aisle to be nearer to her,
and he saw her steal one swift look at the gal-
lery, and look grave ; but soon she detected him,
and though she looked no more toward him, she
seemed demurely complacent. Alfred had learn-
ed to note these subtleties now, for Love is a
microscope. What he did not know was, that
his timid ardor was pursuing a masterly course ;
that to find herself furtively followed every
where, and hovered about for a look, is apt to
soothe womanly pride, and stir womanly pity,
and to keep the female heart in a flutter of curi-
osity and emotion^ Vno ^x\et% ^^x. ^sf^^ea. ^Ooa
heart's {rre&t ^aXe to \avft.
Dr. Sampson. eLmfe^m\\i\c^^^^^^^^^^=^^^^^
40
VEEY HAED CASH.
pened to mention the "Dodds" among his old
patients : for he had lived at Barkington.
" The Dodds of Albion Villa ?" inquired Miss
Hardie, to her brother's no little surprise.
'* Albyn fiddlestick 1" said the polished doctor.
" No ! they live by the water-side ; used to ; but
now they have left the town, I hear. He is a
sea-captain and a fine lad, and Mrs. Dodd is
just the best-bred woman I ever prescribed for,
except Mrs. Sampson."
"It M the Dodds of Albion Villa," said Miss
Hardie. ** They have two children ; a son ; his
name is Edward ; and a daughter, Julia ; she is
rather good-looking; a Gentlemens' Beauty."
Alfred stared at his sister. Was she blind ?
with her "rather good-looking."
Sampson was quite pleased at the information.
"N' listen me I I saved that girl's life when
she was a year old."
"Then she is ill now, doctor," said Alfred,
hastily. "Do go and see her! Hum! The
fact is, her brother is a great favorite of mine."
He then told him how to find Albion Villa.
"Jenny, dear," said he, when Sampson was
gone, " you never told me you knew her."
"Knew who, dear?"
"Whom ? Why, Dodd's sister."
*' Oh, she is a new acquaintance, and not one
to interest you. We only meet in the liord; I
do not visit Albioff Villa ; her mother is an
amiable worldling."
"Unpardonable combination I'* said Alfred,
with a slight sneer. "So you and Miss Dodd
tneet only at church ?"
"At church ? hardly. She goes to St. Anne's :
sits under a preacher, who starves his flock with
moral discourses, and holds out the sacraments
of the Church as the means of grace, and keeps
His atonement, and the efiScacy of prayer through
Him, in the back-ground."
Alfred shook his head good - humoredly.
"Now, Jenny, that is a challenge; and you
know we both got into a fury the last time we
were betrayed into that miserable waste of time
and temper. Theological discussion. No, no :
Let Beets delight to bark and bite,
ForHia their nature to:
Let gown and surplice growl and fight,
For Satan xpakes them so.
But let you and I cut High Church and Low
Church, and be brother and sister. Do tell me
in English where you meet Julia Dodd ; that's a
dear; for young ladies * meeting in the Lord'
conveys no'positive idea to my mind."
Jane Hardie sighed at this confession. "We
meet about His business ; in the cottages of the
poor and the sick, whom He loved and pitied
when on earth ; and we, His unworthy servants,
try to soothe their distress, and lead them to
Him, who can heal the soul as well as the body,
and wipe away all the tears of all His people."
"Then it does you infinite credit, Jane," said
Alfred, warmly. "Now, that is the voice of
trne religion by Jupiter ; and not the whine
of this sect, nor the snarl of that. And so she
joins you in this good work ? I am not sur-
prised."
"We meet in it now and then, dear; but she
caD hardlj be said to have joined me : I have a
district, you know; bat poor Mrs. Dodd will not
a//ojr Julia to enlist in Hia service. She visits
^dependentljTj and by &ta and starts ; and I am
afraid she thinks more of comforting their per-
ishable bodies than of feeding their souls with
crumbs from His altar ; it was but the other day
she confessed to me her backwardness to speak
in the way of instruction to women as old as her
mother. She finds it so much easier to let them
run on about their earthly troubles : and of course
it is much easkr to one who is herself but a Babe
in Grace. Ah, the world holds her still in some
of its subtle meshes."
The speaker uttered this sadly ; but presently,
brightening up, said, with considerable bonho-
mie, and fdmost a sprightly air: "But she is a
dear girl, and the Lord will yet light.her candle."
Alfred pulled a face, as of one that drinketh
verjuice unawares : but let it pass : hypercriti-
cism was not his cue just then. " Well, Jenny,"
said he, "I have a favor to ask you. Introduce
me to your friend Miss Dodd 1 Will you ?"
Miss Hardie colored faintly. I would rather
not, dear Alfred."
" Nonsense ; why not ?"
"Because the introduction could not be for
her eternal good. Julia's soul is in a very tick-
lish state ; she wavers as yet between God and
the world ; and it won't do ; it won't do ; there
is no middle path ; every human creature must
either be His child, or the devil's slave. You
would very likely turn the scale, and then I
should have fought against her everlasting wel-
fare my friend's."
"What, am I an infidel?" inquired Alfred,
angrily.
Jane looked distressed. "Oh no, Alfred.
But you are a worldling ; and the world is at
deadly enmity with Him."
Alfred, smothering a strong sense of irritation,
besought her to hear reason; these big words
were out of place here. "It is Dodd's sister;
and he will introduce me at a word, worldling
as I am."
"Then why urge me to do it, against my con-
science ?" asked the young lady, as sharply as if
she had been a woman of the world. " You can
not be in love with her, as you do not know
her."
Alfred did not reply to this unlucky thrust,
but made a last effort to soften her. " Can you
caltyourself my sister, and refuse me this trifling
ftrvice, which her brother, who loves her and
esteems her ten times more sincerely than yon
do, would not think of refusing me if he was at
home?"
"Why should he? He is in the flesh, him-
self; let the carnal introduce one another. I
really must decline ; but I am very, very sorry
that you feel hurt about it."
* * And I am very sony I have not * an amiable
worldling' for my sister, instead of an unamiable
and devilish conceited Christian."
And, with these bitter words, Alfred snatched
a candle and bounced to bed in a fury. So apt
is one passion to rouse up others.
Jane Hardie let fall a gentle tear: but con-
soled herself with the conviction that she had
done her duty, and that Alfred's anger was quite
unreasonable, and so he would see as soon as he
should cool.
The next day the lover, smarting under this
check, and spurred to fresh efforts, invaded
Sampson. That worthy was just going to dine
I at AMon \i\la, so A^Xtc^Ol "^^"t^xift^ ^M-ov^va^
VERY HAED CASH.
41
* YOU couldn't come again in HiXF AN HOUR, MISS, COULD T ?"
liim till next day. Well, he called at the inn
next day, and if the doctor was not just gone
back to London I
"I have no luck 1" thought Alfred ; and wan-
dered disconsolate homeward.
In the middle of Buchanan Street, an agitated
treble called after him, "Mr. Halfred I hoh, Mr.
Halfred ! " He looked back and saw Dick Absiw
lorn, a promising young cricketer, brandishing a
docoment and imploring aid. " O, Master Hal-
fred, dooee please come here. I durstn't leave
the shop."
There is a tie between cricketers far too strong
for social distinctions to divide, and, though
Alfred muttered peevishly ''whose cat is dead
now ?" he obeyed the strange summons.
The distress was a singular one. Master
Absalom, I must premise, was the youngest of
two lads in the employ of Mr. Jenner, a benevo-
lent old chemist, a disciple of Malthus. Jenner
taught the virtues of drugs and minerals to
tender youths, at the expense of the public.
Scarcely ten minutes had elapsed since a pretty
enrant girl came into the shop, and laid a paper
on the counter, saying, " Please to make that up,
Tonng man." Now at fifteen we are gratified by
inaecnriicieff of this kind from ripe female lips :
so Master Absalom took the prescription with a
complacent grin ; his eye glanced over it ; it fell
to shaking in his hand ; chill dismay penetrated
his heart ; and, to speak with Oriental strictness,
his liver turned instantly to water. However, he
made a feeble clutch at Mercantile Mendacity,
and stammered out, "Here's a mauy hingre-
dicnts, and the governor's out walking, and he's
been and locked the drawer where we keeps our
Prajtorium. You couldn't come again in half an
hour. Miss, could ye ?" She acquiesced readily,
for she was not habitually called Miss, and she
had a follower, a languid one, living hard by,
and belonged to a class which thinks it consist-
ent to come after its followers.
Dicky saw her safe off, and groaned at his ease.
Here was a prescription full of new chemicals,
sovereign, no doubt; i.e., deadly when applied
Jennerically ; and the very directions for use were
in Latin words he had encountered in no pre-
scription before. A year ago Dicky would have
counted the prescribed ingredients on his fingers,
and then taken down an equal number of little
articles, solid or liquid, mixed them, delivered
them, and so to mcfefctj ^TCkfe\\sQ^.\i^w^\s^
mind, to appVy l\v^ xHvwet^e^. iwcvV ^^^''''^^^\
transitioTi state.^^ X 7^e^ ^t^^Sar.^ V^^ ^2k^'^^
42
VERY HARD CASH.
the youthful valor, which used to scatter Epsom
salts, or oxalic acid ; magnesia, or something
white. An experiment or two by himself and
his compeers, with comments by the coroner,
had enlightened him as to the final result on the
human body of potent chemicals fearlessly ad-
ministered, leaving him dark as to their distinct-
ive qualities applied remedially. What should
he do ? run with the prescription to old Taylor
in the next street, a chemist of forty years?
Alas ! at his tender age, he had not omitted to
chaff that reverend rival persistently and public-
ly. Humble his establishment before the King
Street one? Sooner perish drugs, and come
eternal cricket! And, after all, why not?
Drummer-boys, and powder-monkeys, and oth-
er imps of his age that dealt destruction, were
paid ; Mankind acknowledged their services in
cash: but old Jenner, taught by Philosophy,
through its organ the newspapers, that "knowl-
edge is riches," was above diluting with a few
shillings a week the wealth a boy acquired be-
hind his counter: so his apprentices got no
salary. Then why not shut up the old rogue's
shutters, and excite a little sympathy for him, to
be followed by a powerful reaction on his return
from walking; and go and offer his own serv-
ices on the cricket ground to field for the gentle-
men by the hour, or bowl at a shilling on their
bails? "Bowling is the lay for me," said he;
" you get money for that, and you only bruise the
gents a bit and break their thumbs : you can^t put
their vital sparks out as you can at this work.*'
By a striking coincidence, the most influential
member of the cricket club passed while Dick
was in this quandary.
" Oh, Mr. Halfred, you was always very good
to me on the ground; you couldn't have me
hired by the club, could ye? for I am sick of
this trade ; I wants to bowl."
"You little duffer!" said Alfred, "cricket is
a recreation, not a business. Besides, it only
lasts five months. Unless you adjourn to the
antipodes. Stick to the shop like a man, and
make your fortune."
"Oh, Mr. Halfred," said Dick, sorrowfully,
"how can I find fortune here? Jenner don't
pay. And the crowner declares he will not have
it; and the Barton Chronicle says us young
gents ought all to be given a holiday to go and
see one of us hanged by lot ; but this is what
have broke this camel's back at last ; here's a
dalled thing to come smiling and smirking in
with, and put it across a counter in a poor boy's
hand. Oh! oh! oh!"
" Dick," said Alfred, " if you blubber, I'll give
you a hiding. You have stumbled on a passage
you can't construe. Well, who has not ? but we
don't shed the briny about it. Here, let me have
a go at it."
"Ah, I've heard you are a scholard," said
Dick, "but yon won't make out this; there's
some new preparation of Mercury, and there's
musk, and there's hoarhound, and there's a neu-
tral salt i and dal his old head that wrote it."
"Hold your jaw, and listen, while I construe it
to you. * Die Mercurii, on Wednesday -c?6dnia
hord vespertindy at ten o'clock at night eat in
Mused / what does that mean ? ' Ad Prceto-
rium, to the Prsstorium, Eat in Mused f I see ;
tbis is modem Latin with a vengeance. ' Let
him go in a By to the PraBtoriiim. Saliet, let
him jump-^ctfm tredecim ccmicuUs, with thirteen
little dogs ;trflpserrtm meo, especially with my
little dog.' Dicky, this prescription emanates
from Bedlam direct. ^Uomum reditta' hallo!
it is a woman, then ! ' Let her go in a fly to the
Town-hall,' eh ? * Let her jump,' no, * dance,
with thirteen whelps, especially mine.* Ha! ha!
ha ! And who is the woman that is to do all
this, I wonder?"
"Woman, indeed!" said a treble at the door;
* ' no more than I am ; it's for a young lady. 0,
jiminy!"
This polite ejaculation was drawn out by the
speaker's sudden recognition of Alfred, who had
raised his head at her remonstrance, and now
started in his turn: for it was the black-eyed
servant of Albion Villa. They looked at one
another in expressive silence.
" Yes, Sir, it is for my young lady. Is it ready,
young man ?"
"No, it ain't ; and never will," squealed Dick,
angrily ; " it's a vile 'oax ; and you ought to be
ashamed of yourself bringing it into a respecta-
ble shop."
Alfred silenced him, and told Sarah he thought
Miss Dodd ought to know the nature of this
prescription before it went round the chemists."
He borrowed paper of Dick, and wrote :
" Mr. Alfred Hardie presents his compliments
to Miss Dodd, and begs leave to inform her that
he has, by the merest accident, intercepted the
inclosed prescription. As it seems rather a sor-
ry jest, and tends to attract attention to Miss
Dodd and her movements, he has ventured, with
some misgivings, to send' it back with a literal
translation, on reading which it will be for Miss
Dodd to decide whether it is to circulate :
"*0n Wednesday, at ten p.m., let her go
in a fly to the town-hall, and dance with thir-
( little dogs, )
teen i puppies, V especially with mine : return
( whelps, )
home at six a.m., and sleep till dinner, and re-
peat the folly as occasion serves.' "
"Suppose I could get it into Miss's hands
when she's alone ?" whispered Sarah.
"You would earn my warmest gratitude."
* * * Warmest gratitude ! ' Is that a warm gownd
or a warm cloak, I wonder ?"
" It is both, when the man is a gentleman, and
a pretty, dark-eyed girl pities him and stands his
friend."
Siarah smiled, and whispered, "Give it me;
I'll do my best."
Alfred inclosed the prescription and his note
in one cover, handed them to her, and slipped a
sovereign into her hand. He whispered, "Be
prudent."
" I'm dark. Sir," said she : and went off brisk-
ly homeward, and Alfred stood rapt in dreamy
joy, and so self-elated that, had he been furnishea
like a peacock, he would have instantly become
" a thing all eyes," and choked up Jenner's shop,
and swept his counter. He had made a step to-
ward familiarity, had written her a letter ; and
then, if this prescription came, as he suspected,
from Dr. Sampson, she would, perhaps, be at the
ball. This opened a delightful vista. Meantime
Mrs. Dodd had communicated Sampson's opin-
ion to Julia, adding that there was a prescription
besides, gone to be made up. "However, he
insists on yoni going \o \)av%\i2^:^
VERY HARD CASH.
48
Jnlia begged hard to be excused : said she was
in no humor for balls : and, Mrs. Dodd objecting
that the tickets had actually been purchased, she
asked leave to send them to the Dartons : " they
will be a treat to Rose and Alice ; they seldom
go out : mamma, I do so fear they are poorer
than people think. May I ?"
'*It would be but kind," said Mrs. Dodd.
*' Though really why my child should always be
sacrificed to other people's children 1"
*' Oh a mighty sacrifice !" said Julia. She sat
down and inclosed the tickets to Rose Darton,
with a little sugared note. Sarah being out,
Elizabeth took it. Sarah met her at the gate,
but did not announce her return : she lurked in
ambush till Julia happened to go to her own
room, then followed her, and handed Alfred's
missive, and watched her slily, and, being herself
expeditious as the wind in matters of the heart,
took it for granted the inclosure was something
very warm indeed ; so she said with feigned sim-
plicity, " I suppose it is all right now, miss ?"
and retreated swelling with a secret, and tor-
mented her fellow-servants all day with innuen-
does dark as Erebus.
Jnlia read the note again and again : her heart
beat at those few ceremonious lines. "He docs
not like me to be talked of," she said to herself.
" How good he is ! What trouble he takes about
me 1 Ah ! he vnll be there."
She divined rightly 5 on Wednesday, at ten,
Alfred Hardie was in the ball-room. It was a
magnificent room, well lighted, and at present
not half filled, though dancing had commenced.
The figure Alfred sought was not there; and he
wondered he had been so childish as to hope she
would come to a city ball. He played the fine
gentleman ; would not dance. He got near the
door with another Oxonian, and tried to avenge
hhnself for her absence on the townspeople, who
were there, by quizzing them.
But in the middle of this amiable occupation,
and, indeed, in the middle of a sentence, he
stopped short, and his heart throbbed, and he
thrilled from head to foot ; for two ladies glided
in at the door, and passed up the room with the
unpretending composure of well-bred people.
They were equally remarkable ; but Alfred saw
only the radiant young creature in flowing mus-
lin, with the narrowest sash in the room, and no
ornament but a necklace of large pearls, and her
own vivid beauty. She had altered her mind
about coming, with apologies for her vacillating
disposition so penitent and disproportionate, that
her indulgent and unsuspecting mother was really
quite amused. Alfred was not so happy as to
know that she had changed her mind with his
note. Perhaps even this knowledge could have
added little to that exquisite moment when, un-
hoped for, she passed close to him, and the fra-
grant air from her brushed his check ; and seemed
to whisper, ''follow me and be my slave!"
CHAPTER Vn.
He did follow her, and, convinced that she
would be engaged ten deep in five minutes, hus-
tled ifp to the master of the ceremonies and
begged an introdnction. The great banker's son
was attended to at once.
Julia saw them coming, as her sex can see,
without looking. Her eyes were on fire and a
delicious blush on her cheeks when the M.C. in-
troduced Mr. Alfred Hardie with due pomp. * He
asked her to dance.
"I am engaged for this dance."
"The next?" said Hardie, timidly.
"With pleasure."
But when they had got so far, they were both
seized with bashful silence ; and, just as Alfred
was going to try and break it. Cornet Bosanquet,
aged 18, height 6 feet 4 inches, strutted up to
them with clanking heel, and, glancing haughti-
ly up at him, carried Julia off, like a steam-tug
towing away some fair schooner.
To these little thorns society treats all anxious
lovers, but the incident was new to Alfred, and
discomposed him ; and, besides, he had nosed a
rival in Sampson's prescription. So now he
thought to himself, "that little ensign is 'his
puppy.'"
To get rid of Mrs. Dodd he offered to conduct
her to a seat. She thanked him; she would
rather stand where she could see her daughter
dance : on this he took her to the embrasure of
a window opposite where Julia and her partner
stood, and they entered a circle of s^Q.\a.\R\A
The baud sItuOlxjc^, aftL^& ^sJ^Kosa. ^sAiCxast
began. _.. , ^
44
VERY HAKD CASH.
a middle-aged solicitor. ''In white? I do not
see any beauty in white," replied his daughter.
" Why, there, before your eyes," said the gen-
tleman, loudly.
*' What, that girl dancing with the little cap-
tain? I don't see much beauty in her. And
what a rubbishing dress."
"It never cost a pound, making and all," sug-
gested another Barkingtonian nymph.
"But what splendid pearls," said a third:
"can they be real?"
"Beal ! what an ideal" ejaculated a fourth :
"who puts on real pearls as big as peas vnth
muslin at twenty pence the yard ?"
"Weasels!" muttered Alfred, and quivered
all over : and he felt to Mrs. Dodd so like a sav-
age going to spring, that she laid her hand upon
his wrist and said, gently, but with authority,
"Be calm, Sir I and oblige me by not noticing
these people."
Then they threw dirt on her bouquet, and
then on her shoes, while she was winding in and
out before their eyes 4i Grace, and her soft mus-
lin drifting and flowing like an appropriate cloud
round a young goddess.
"A little starch would make it set out better.
It's as limp as a towel on the line."
"1*11 be sworn it was washed at home."
" Where it was made."
" I call it a rag, not a gown."
"Do let us move," whispered Alfred.
"I am very comfortable here," whispered
Mrs. Dodd. " How can these things annoy my
ears while I have eyes ? Look at her ! She is
by far the best-dressed lady in the room ; her
muslin is Indian, and of a quality unknown to
these provincial shop-keepers; a rajah gave it
OS : her pearls have been in every court in Eu-
rope; and she herself is beautiful, would be
beautiful dressed like the dowdies who are crit-
icising her : and, I think. Sir, she dances as well
as any lady can, encumbered with an Atom that
does not know the figure."
At this, as if to extinguish all doubt, Julia
flung them a heavenly smile; she had been
furtively watching them all the time, and she
saw they were talking about her.
The other Oxonian squeezed up to Hardie.
. "Do you know the beauty? She smiled your
* way."
"Ah !" said Hardie, deliberately, "you mean
that young lady with the court pearls, in that
exquisite Indian muslin, which, floats so grace-
fully, while the other muslin girls are all crimp
and stifle, like little pigs dad in crackling."
" Ha I ha ! ha ! Yes. Introdjuce me ! "
"I could not take such a liberty with the
queen of the ball." ^
Mrs. Dodd smiled, but felt nervous and ill at
ease. She thought to herself, "Now here is a
generous, Impetuous pest." As for the hostile
party, staggered at first by the masculine inso-
lence of young Hardie, it soon recovered, and,
true to its sex, attacked him obliquely, through
his white ladye.
" Who is the beauty of the ball ?" asked one,
haughtily.
" I don't know | but not that mawkish thing
in limp znaslin. '*
^'Isboald sajrMisBHeiberington is i;he belle,"
^aggested a third.
"Ob, beyond queation.*'
"Which is Miss Hotherington?" asked the
Oxonian coolly of Alfred.
"Oh, she won't do for us. It is that little
chalk-faced girl, dressed in pink with red roses ;
the pink of vulgarity and bad taste."
At this both Oxonians laughed arrogantly, and
Mrs. Dodd withdrew her hand from the speaker's
arm and glided away behind the throng. Juli^
looked at him with marked anxiety. He re-
turned her look, and was sore puzzled what it
meant, till he found Mrs. Dodd had withdrawn
softly from him; then he stood confused, re^
gretting, too late, he had not obeyed her positive
request, and tried to imitate her dignified fori
bearance.
The quadrille ended. He instantly stepped
forward and, bowing politely to the cornet, said
authoritatively, "Mrs. Dodd sends me to conduct
you to her. With your permission, Sir." His
arm was oflered and taken before the little war-
rior knew where he was.
He had her on his arm, soft, light, and fra-
grant as zephyr, and her cool breath wooing his
neck ; oh, the thrill of that moment ! but her
first word was to ask him, with considerable anx
iety, "Why did mamma leave you?"
"Miss Dodd, I am the most unhappy of
men."
"No doubt! no doubt!" said she a little
crossly. She added with one of her gushes of
naivetd, " and I shall be unhappy too if you dis-
please mamma."
"What could I do? A gang of snobbesses
were detracting from somebody. To speak
plainly, they were running down the loveliest
of her sex. Your mamma told me to keep quiet.
And so I did till I got a fair chance, and then I
gave it them in their teeth." He ground his
own, and added, "I think I was very good not
to kick them."
Julia colored with pleasure, and proceeded to
turn it off*; "Oh! most forbearing and consid-
erate," said she : "ah, by-the-way, I think I did
hear some ladies express a misgiving as to the
pecuniary value of my costume ; ha ! ha ! Oh
^you ^foolish thing! ^Fancy minding that!
Why it is in little sneers that the approval of the
ladies shows itself at a ball, and it is a much
sincerer compliment than the gentlemen's bom-
bastical praises ; * the fairest of her sex,' and so
on ; that none but * the silliest of her sex' be-
lieves."
"I did not say the fairest of her sex ; I said
the loveliest of her sex."
" Oh, that alters the case entirely," said Julia,
whose spirits were mounting with the lights and
music, and Alfred's company, "so now come and
be reconciled to the best and wisest of her sex ;
ay, and the beautifullest, if you but knew her
sweet, dear, darling face as I do ; there she is ;
let us fly. Manmia, here is a penitent for you,
real or feigned."
"Real, Mrs. Dodd," said Alfred. " I had no
right to disobey you and risk a scene. You
served me right by abandoning me ; I feel the
rebuke and its j ustice. Let me hope your venge-
ance will go no further."
Mrs. Dodd smiled at the grandiloquence of
youth, and told him he had mistaken her char-
acter. "I saw I had acquired a generous, hot-
headed aWy, w\io waa bent on doing battle with
insects , so 1 mlYidtew \ "Wl w \ ^wiXii*. .\"V^t-
VERY HAED CASH.
45
terloo, or any where else, where people put them-
selves in a passion."
The band struck up again.
"Ah!" said Julia, "and I promised you this
dance ; but it is a waltz ; and my guardian an-
gel objects to the valse k deux temps."
" Decidedly. Should all the mothers in En-
gland permit their daughters to romp, and
wrestle, in public, and call it waltzing, I must
stand firm till they return to their senses."
Julia looked at Alfred despondently ; he took
his cue and said with a smile, ''Well, perhaps it
is a leetle brutal; a donkey's galop and then
twirl her like a mop."
** Since you admit that, perhaps you- can waltz
comme il faut ?" said Mrs. Dodd.
Alfred said he ought ; he had given his whole
soul to it in Grermany last Long.
"Then I can have the pleasure of dropping
the tyrant. Away with you both while there is
room to circulate."
Alfred took his partner delicately ; they made
just two cat-like steps forward, and melted into
the waltz.
It was an exquisite moment. To most young
people Love comes after a great deal of waltz-
ing. But this pair brought the awakened ten-
derness, and trembling sensibilities, of two burn-
ing hearts, to this their first intoxicating whirl.
To them, therefore, every thing was an event,
every thing was a thrill the first meeting and
timid pressure of their hands, the first delicate
enfolding of her supple waist by his strong arm
but trembling hand, the delightful unison of
their unerring feet, the movement, the music,
the soft delicious whirl, her cool breath saluting
his neck, his ardent but now liquid eyes seeking
hers tenderly, and drinking them deep, hers that
now and then sipped his so sweetly all these
were new and separate joys, that linked them-
selves in one soft delirium of bliss. It was not a
waltz ; it was an Ecstasy.
Starting almost alone, this peerless pair danced
a gauntlet. On each side admiration and de-
traction buzzed all the time.
. "Beautiful ! They are turning in the air."
"Quite gone by. That's how the old fogies
dance."
Chorus of shallow males. "How well she
waltzes."
Chorus of shallow females. "How well he
waltzes."
But they noted neither praise nor detraction :
they saw nothing, heard nothing, felt nothing,
but themselves and the other music, till two val-
sers k deux temps took " a tremendous header"
into them. Thus smartly reminded they had
not earth all to themselves, they laughed good-
humoredly, and paused.
" Ah ! I am happy ! " gushed from Julia. She
blushed at herself, and said, severely, " You dance
very well. Sir :" this was said to justify her un-
guarded ejaculation, and did, after a fashion.
"I think it is time to go to mamma."
"So soon. And I had so much to say to
you."
" Oh, very well. I am all attention.**
The sudden facility offered set Alfred stam-
mering a little. " I wanted to apologize to you
for something ^you are so good you seem to have
forgotten it hut I dare not hope that I mean
at Henley-^wben the beauty of your character,
and your goodness, so overpowered me, that a
fatal impulse-"
"What do you mean. Sir?" said Julia, look-
ing him full in the face, like an offended lion,
while, with true feminiue and Julian inconsist-
ency her bosom fluttered like a dove. "I never
exchanged one word with you in my life before
to-day ; and I never shall again, if you pretead
the contrary."
Alfred stood stupefied, and looked at her in
piteous amazement.
"I value your acquaintance highly, Mr. Har-
die, now I have made it, as acquaintances are
made ; but please to observe, I never saw you
before scarcely; not even in church."
"As you please," said he, recovering his wits
in part. " What you say I'll swear to."
"Then I say, never remind a lady of what
you should wish her to forget."
"I was a fool. And you are an angel of tact
and goodness."
" Oh, now I am sure it i time to join mam-
ma,'* said she, in the dryest, drollest, way.
"Valsons."
They waltzed down to Mrs. Dodd, exchanging
hearts at every turn, and they took a good many
in the space of a round table, for in truth both
were equally loth to part.
At two o'clock, Mrs. Dodd resumed common-
place views of a daughter's health, and rose
to go.
Her fly had played her false, and, being our
island home, it rained buckets. Alfred ran, be-
fore they could stop him, and caught a fly. He
was dripping. Mrs. Dodd expressed her regrets ;
he told her it did not matter ; for him the ball
was now over, the flowers faded, and the lights
darkness visible.
"The extravagance of these children I" said
Mrs. Dodd to Julia with a smile, as soon as he
was out of hearing. Julia made no reply.
Next day she was at evening church : the con-
gregation was very sparse. The first glance re-
vealed Alfred Hardie standing in the very next
pew. He wore a calm front of conscious recti-
tude ; under which peeped sheep-faced misgiv-
iugs as to the result of this advance; for, like
all true lovers, he was half impudence, hedf ti-
midity ; and both on the grand scale.
Now Julia in a ball-xoom was one creature,
another in church. After the first surprise,
which sent the blood for a moment to her cheek,
she found he had come without a prayer-book.
She looked sadly and half-reproachfully at him ;
then put her white hand calmly over the wooden
partition, and made him read with her out of her
book. She shared her hymn-book with him, too,
and sang her Maker's praise modestly and sober-
ly but earnestly, and quite undisturbed by her
lover's presence.
It seemed as if this pure creature was drawing
him to heaveii holding by that good book, and
by her touching voice. He felt good all over.
To be like her he tried to bend his whole mind
on the prayers of the church, and, for the first
time, realized how beautiful they are.
After service he followed her to the door.
Island home again, by the pailful ; and .\s& \^^
a thick 8ha?}\\\xt "ao MTC^st^-Bu "\ia\sa^\st2pa5gpx
a large oue on \\i^ c\iiXiR,^\ V^ ^w^^ %Rfc^t
I home.
40
VERY HARD CASH.
** Quite unnecessary; it is so near.**
He insisted; she persisted; and, persisting,
yielded. They said but little ; yet they seemed
to interchange volumes, and, at each gaslight
they passed, they stole a look, and treasured it
to feed on.
That night was one broad step more toward
the great happiness, or great misery, which
awaits a noble love. Such loves, somewhat rare
in Nature, have lately become so very rare in
Fiction, that I have ventured, with many mis-
givings, to detail the peculiarities of its rise and
Progress. But now for a time it advanced on
eaten tracks ; Alfred had the right to call at
Albion Villa, and he came twice ; once when
Mrs. Dodd was out. This was the time he staid
the two hours.
A Mrs. James invited Jane and him to tea and
exposition. There he met Julia and Edward,
who had just returned. Edward was taken with
Jane Hardie's face and dove-like eyes ; eyes that
dwelt with a soft and chastened admiration on
his masculine face and his model form, and their
owner felt she had received "a call" to watch
over his spiritual weal. So they paired off.
Julia's fluctuating spirits settled now into a
calm, demure complacency. Her mother, find-
ing this strange remedial virtue in youthful so-
ciety, gave young parties, inviting Jane and Al-
fred in their turn. Jane hesitated, but, as she
could no longer keep Julia from knowing her
worldly brother, and hoped a way might be
opened for her to rescue Edward, she relaxed her
general rule, which was, to go into no company
unless some religious- service formed part of the
entertainment. Yet her eonscience was ill at
ease ; and, to set them an example, she took care,
^ when she asked the Dodds in return, to have a
'clergyman there of her own party, who could
pray and expound with unction.
Mrs. Dodd,. not to throw cold water on what
seemed to gratify her children, accepted Miss
Hardie's invitation ; but she never intended to
go, and at the last moment wrote to say she was
slightly indisposed. The nature of the indispo-
sition she revealed to Julia alone. * *^That young
lady keeps me on thorns. I never feel secure
she will not say or do something extravagant or
unusual ; she seems to suspect sobriety and good
taste of being in league with impiety. Here I
succeed in bridling her a little ; but encounter
a female enthusiast in her own house? Merci !
After all, there nmst be something good in her,
since she is your friend, and you are hers ; let
her pass : I have something more serious to say
to you before you go there. It is about her
brother. He is a flirt : in fact, a notorious one,
more than one lady tells me."
Julia was silent, but began to be very uneasy ;
they were sitting and talking after sunset, yet
without candles ; she profited, for once, by that
amazing gap in the intelligence of "the sex."
" 1 hear he pays you compliments ; and I have
seen a disposition to single you out. Now, my
love, you have the good sense to know that,
whatever a young man of that age says to you,
he says to many other ladies; but your expe-
rience is not equal to your sense ; so profit by
mine; a girl of your age must never be talked
r^T}\ person of the other sex: it is fatal;
/6i// but if yon permit yourself to be singled
oo, jrou Will be talked of inevitably, and distress
those who love yon. It is easy to avoid inju-
dicious duets in s5ciety ; oblige me by doing so
to-night."
To show how much she was in earnest, Mrs.
Dodd hinted that, were her admonition neglect-
ed, she should regret, for once, having kept clear
of an enthusiast.
Julia had no alternative; she assented in a
faint voice. After a pause she faltered out,
"And suppose he should esteem me seriously?"
Mrs. Dodd replied quickly, " Then that would
be much worse. But," said she, "I have no
apprehensions on that score; you are a child,
and he is a precocious boy, and rather a flirt.
But forewarned is forearmed. So now nm
away and dress, sweet one: my lecture is quite
ended."
The sensitive girl went up to her room with
a heavy heart. All the fears she had lulled of
late revived. She saw plainly now that Mrs.
Dodd only accepted Alfred as a pleasant ac-
quaintance: as a son-in-law he was out of the
question. "Oh, what will she say when she
knows all ?" thought Julia.
Next day, sitting near the window, she saw
him coming up the road. After the first move-
ment of pleasure at the bare sight of him, she
was sorry he had come. Mamma's suspicions
awake at last, and here he was again ; the third
call in one fortnight! She dared not risk an
interview with him, ardent and ];inguarded, un-
der that penetrating eye, which she felt would
now be on the watch.
She rose hurriedly, said as carelessly as she
could, "I am going to the school," and, tying
her bonnet on all in a flurry, whipped out at
the back door with her shawl in her hand just
as Sarah opened the front door to Alfred. She
then shufllcd on her shawl, and whisked through
the little shrubbery into the open field, and reach-
ed a path that led to the school, and so gratified
was she at her dexterity in evading her favorite,
that she hung her head, and went murmuring,
"Cruel, cruel, cruel!"
Alfred entered the drawing-room gayly, with
a good-sized card and a prepared speech. This
was not the visit of a friend but a functionary ;
the treasurer of the cricket-ground, come to book
two of his eighteen to play against the All En-
gland Eleven next month. "As for you, my
worthy Sir (turning to Edward), I shall just put
you down without ceremony. But I must ask
leave to book Captain Dodd. Mrs. Dodd, I
come at the universal desire of the club ; they
say it is sure to be a dull match without Cap-
tain Dodd. Besides, he is a capital player."
"Mamma, don't you be caught by his chaff*,"
said Edward, quietly. "Papa is no player at
all. Any thing more imlike cricket than his
way of making runs ^"
"But he makes them, old fellow; now you
and I, at Lord's the other day, played in first-
rate form, left shoulder well up, and achieved
with neatness, precision, dexterity, and dispatch
the British duck's-egg."
" Misericorde ! What is that ?" inquired Mrs.
Dodd.
" Why, a round O," said the other Oxonian,
coming to his friend's aid.
"And what is that, pray?"
Alfred toVd \vw " \.\vft round 0," which had
yielded to "tVvft ducVs-e^^,'' i.TLsi\?ti&\5fctQfCMkSL?,
VERY HARD CASH.
47
obsolete, meant the cipher set by the scorer
against a player's name, who is out without
making a run.
"1 see," sighed Mrs. Dodd: "It penetrates
to your very sports and games. And why Brit-
ish?"
"Oh, 'British' is redundant: thrown in by
the universities."
" Bat what does it mean ?"
"It means nothing. That is the beauty of
it. British is inserted in imitation of our idols,
the Greeks ; they adored redundancy."
In short, poor Alfred, though not an M.P.,
was talking to put off time, till Julia should
come in : so he now favored Mrs. Dodd, of all
])eople, with a flowery description of her hus-
1)and*s play, which I, who have not his motive
for volubility, suppress. However, he wound up
with the captain's "moral influence." "Last
match," said he, "Barkington did not do itself
justice. Several, that could have made a stand,
were frightened out, rather than bowled, by the
London professionals. Then Captain Dodd
went in, and treated those artists with the same
good-humored contempt he would a parish bowl-
er, and, in particular, sent Mynne's over-tossed
balls flying over his head for six, or to square
log for four, and, on his retiring with twenty-
five, scored in eight minutes, the remaining Bark-
ingtonians were less funky, and made some fair
scores." *
Mrs. Dodd smiled a little ironically at this
tirade, but said she thought she might venture
to promise Mr. Dodd's co-operation, should he
reach home in time. Then, to get rid of Al-
fred before Julia's return, the amiable world-
ling turned to Edward, "Your sister will not
be back; so you may as well ring the bell for
luncheon at once. Perhaps Mr. Hardie will
join us."
Alfred declined, and took his leave with far
less alacrity than he had entered with ; Edward
went down stairs with him.
"Miss Dodd gone on a visit?" asked Alfred,
affecting carelessness.
"Only to the school. By-the-by, I will go
and fetch her."
" No, don't do that ; call on my sister instead,
and then you will pull me out of a scrape. I
promised to bring her here : but her saintship
was so long adorning * the poor perishable body,'
that I came alone."
" I don't understand you," said Eld ward. "I
am not the attraction here. It is Julia."
"How do you know that? When a^'oung
lady interests herself in an undergraduate's soul,
it is a pretty sure sign she likes the looks of him.
But perhaps you don't want to be converted;
If so, keep clear of her, * Bar the fell dragon's
blighting way ; but shun that lovely snare.' "
"On the contrary," said Edward, calmly, "I
only wish she could make me as good as she is,
or half as good."
" Give her the chance, old fellow, and then it
won't be your fault if she makes a mess of it.
Call at two, and Jenny will receive you very
kindly, and will show you you are in the * gall of
bitterness and the bond of iniquity.' Now, won't
that be nice?"
"I will go," said Edward, gravely.
They parted. Where Alfred went the reader
can perhaps guess ; Edward to J uncbcon.
"Mamma," said he, with that tranquillity
which sat so well on him, " don't you think Al-
fred Hardie is spoony upon our Julia ?"
Mrs. Dodd suppressed- a start, and (perhaps to
gain time before replying sincerely) said she had
not the honor of knowing what " spoony" meant.
"Why, sighs for her, and dies for her, and
fancies she is prettier than Miss Hardie. He
must be over head and ears."
* ' Fie, child !" was the answer. " If I thought
so, I should withdraw from their acquaintance.
Excuse me ; I must put on my bonnet at once,
not to lose this fine afternoon."
Edward did not relish her remark : it menaced
more Spoons than one. However he was not
the man to be cast down at a word : he lighted
a cigar, and strolled toward Hardie's house.
Mr. Hardie, senior, had left three days ago on
a visit to London ; Miss Hardie received him ;
he passed the afternoon in calm complacency,
listening reverently to her admonitions, and
looking her softly out of countenance, and into
earthly affections, with his lion eyes.
Meantime his remark, so far from really seem-
ing foolish to Mrs. Dodd, was the true reason for
her leaving him so abruptly. "Even this dear
slow Thing sees it," thought she. She must talk
to Julia more seriously, and would go to the
school at once. She went up stairs, and put on
her bonnet and shawl before the glass, then
moulded on her gloves ; and came down equipped.
On the stairs was a large window, looking upon
the open field; she naturally cast her eyes through
it, in the direction she was going, and what did
she see but a young lady and gentleman coming
slowly down the path toward the villa. Mrs.
Dodd bit her lip with vexation, and looked keen-
ly at them, to divine on what terms they were.
And the more she looked the more uneasy she
grew.
The head, the hand, the whole person of a
young woman walking beside one she loves, be-
trays her heart to experienced eyes watching
unseen ; and most female eyes are experienced
at this sort of inspection. Why did Julia move
so slowly ? especially after that warning. Why
was her head averted from that encroaching
boy, and herself so near him? The anxious
mother would much rather have seen her keep
her distance, and look him full in the face.
Her first impulse was that of leopardesses, lion-
esses, hens, and all the mothers in nature; to
dart from her ambush nd protect her young ;
but she controlled it by a strong effort ; it seemed
wiser to descry the truth, and then act with reso-
lution : besides the young people were now al-
most at the shrubbery ; so the mischief, if any,
was done
They entered the shrubbery.
To Mrs. Dodd's surprise and dismay they did
not come out this side so quickly. She darted
her eye into the plantation ; and lo ! Alfred had
seized the fatal opportunity foliage offers, even
when thinnish : he held Julia's hand, and was
pleading eagerly for something she seemed not
disposed to grant; for she turned away and
made an effort to leave him. But Mrs. Dodd,
standing there quivering with maternal anxiety,
and hot with shame, could not but doubt the
sincerity of tVvaX %tuc^^v!\ x^^NsX.-KWifc* 'Vl ^Oc.^
been quite m ewtv^^x, ;SviX\. V-sv^ ^^ i^\i5^\s^
1 her to box tVve \\t\\i vJx^itOcC?. ^^^. '^^^'^ ^^-k^rS^
48
VERY HARD CASH.
*8HB TUBNED AWAT AND HADE AN EFFOBT TO LEAVE HIM.'
even to doabt, when she saw that her daaghter^s
opposition ended in his getting hold of two hands
instead of one, and devouring them with kisses,
while Julia still drew her head and neck quite
away, but the rest of her supple frame seemed
to yield and incline, and draw softly toward her
besieger, by some irresistible spell.
"I can bear no more!" gasped Mrs. Dodd
aloud, and turned to .hasten and part them;
but even as she curved her stately neck to go,
she caught the lovers' parting ; and a very pret-
ty one too, if she could have looked at it, as
these things ought always to be looked at: Artist-
ically.
Julia's head and lovely throat, unable to draw
the rest of her away, compromised ; they turned,
declined, drooped, and rested one half moment
on her captor's shoulder, like a settling dove : the
liext, she scudded from him, and made for the
house alone.
. Mrs. Dodd, deeply indignant, but too wise to
court a painful interview with her own heart
beating high, went into the drawing-room : and
there sat down, to recover some little com-
poeure. But she was hardly seated when Julia's
innocent voice was heard calling '* Mamma!
mamma /" and soon she came funding into
XAe drawing-room, brimfal of good news, her
cheeks as red as fire, and her eyes wet with hap-
py tears ; and there confronted her mother, who
had started up at her footstep, and now, with
one hand nipping the back of the chair convul-
sively, stood lofty, looking strangely agitated and
hostile.
The two ladies eyed one another, silent, yet
expressive ; like a picture facing a statue ; but
soon the color died out of Julia's face as well,
and she began to cower with vague fears before
that ^tately figure, so gentle and placid usually,
but now so discomposed and stem.
CHAPTER Vin.
"Where have you been, Julia?"
" Only at the school," she faltered.
** Who was your companion home ?"
"Oh, dpn't be angry with me! It was Al-
fred."
"Alfred! His Christian name ! You try my
patience too hard."
" Forgive me ! I was not to blame this time,
indeed ! indeed ! You frighten me. What will
become of me? "What have I done to be look-
ed at so?"
VERY HARD CASH.
49
Mrs. Dodd groaned. "Was that young co-
quette I watched from my window the child I
have reared ? No face on earth is to he trusted
after this? *What have you done' indeed?
Only risked your own mother's esteem, and
nearly broken her heart." And with these
words her own courage began to give way, and
she sank into a chair with a deep sigh.
At this Julia streamed, and tiirew herself on
her knees beside her, and cried, **Kill me I oh,
pray kill me ! but don't drive me to despair with
such cruel words and looks !" and fell to sobbing
so wildly that Mrs. Dodd altered her tone with
almost ludicrous rapidity.
" There, do not terrify me with your impet-
uosity, after grieving me so. Be calm, child ;
let me see whether I can not remedy your sad
imprudence ; and, that I may, pray tell me the
whole truth. How did this come about?"
In reply to this question, wfiich she somewhat
mistook, Julia sobbed out, " He met me c-com-
ing out of the school, and asked to s-see me
home. I said 'No, thank yon,' because I
th-thought of your warning. * Oh yes ! ' said he,
and would walk with me, and keep saying he
loved me. So, to stop him, I said, * M-m-much
ob-liged, but I was b^busy and had no time to
flirt.' * Nor have I the in-in-clination,' said he.
*That is not what others say of you,' said I.
You know what you t-told me, mamma. So at
last he said d-did ever he ask any lady to be his
wife. ' I suppose not,' said I, * or you would be
p-p-private property by now instead of p-pub-
lic' "
'' Now there was a foolish speech ; as much
as to say nobody could resist him."
" W-wasn't it ? And n-no more they could.
You have no idea how he makes love; he is
very unladylike : keeps advancing and never re-
treats, nor even st-ops. *But.I ask you to be
my wife,' said he. Oh, mamma, I trembled so.
Why did I tremble? I don't know. I made
myself cold and haughty. ' I should make no
reply to such ridiculous questions ; say that to
mamma, if you dare !' I said."
Mrs. Dodd bit her lip, and said, " Was there
ever such simplicity ?"
" Simple ! Why, that was my cunning. You
are the only creature he is afraid of; so I
thought to stop his mouth with you. But in-
stead of that my lord said, calmly, ' That was
understood; he loved me too well to steal me
from her to whom he was indebted for me.'
Oh, he has always an answer ready. And that
makes him such a p-p-pest."
"It was an answer that did him credit."
" Dear mamma ! now did it not ? Then at
parting he said he wotAd come to-morrow, and
ask you for my hand ; but I must intercede with
you first, or you would be sure to say * No.' So
I declined to interfere: *w-w-what was it to
me ?' I said. He begged and prayed me. * Was
it likely you would give him such a treasure as
Me unless I stood his friend ?' (For the b-b-bra-
zen Thing turns humble now and then.) And
oh, mamma, he dM so implore me to pity him,
and kept saying no man ever loved as he loved
me, and with his begging and praying me so
passionately, oh so passionately, I felt some-
thing warm drop from his poor eyes on my
hand. Oh I oh; oh! oh! What could I do?
And then, you know, I wanted to get away
from him. So I am afraid I did just say 'Yes,'
but only in a whisper. Mamma! my own,
good, kind, darling mamma, have pity on him
and on me ! ! I We love one another so."
A shower of tender tears gushed out in sup-
port of this appeal ; and in a moment she was
caught up with Love's mighty arms, and her
head laid on her mother's yearning bosom. No
word was needed to re6ncile these two.
After a long silence, Mrs. Dodd said this
would be a warning never to judge her sweet
child from a distance again, or unheard. ' ' And
therefore," said she, "let me hear from your
own lips how so serious an attachment could
spring up? Why it is scarcely a month since
you were first introduced at that ball.'*
"Mamma," murmured Julia, hanging her
head, "you are mistaken. We knew each oth-
er before."
Mrs. Dodd looked all astonishment.
"Now I will make a clean breast of it," said
Julia, impetuously, addressing some invisible ob-
stacle. "I tell you I am sick of having secrets
from my own mother." And with this out it all
came.
She told the story of her heart better than I
have. And, woman-like, dwelt on the depths
of loyalty and delicate love she had read in
Alfred's moonlit face that night at Henley. She
said no eloquence could have touched her like
it. "Mamma, something said to me, * Ay, look
at him well, for that is your husband to be.'"
She even tried to solve the mystery of her soi-
disant sickness. " I was disturbed by a feeling
so new and so powerful,* but, above all, by hav-
ing a secret from you; the first; the last."
"Well, darling, then why have a secret?
Why not tiust me, your friend as well as your
mother?"
"Ah! why, indeed? I am a puzzle to my-
self. I wanted you to know, and yet I could
not tell you. I kept giving you hints, and
hoped so you would take them, and make me
speak out. But when I tried to tell you plump,
something kept pull pull ^pulling me inside,
and I couldn't. Mark my words ! some day it
will turn out that I am neither more nor less
than a fool."
Mrs. Dodd slighted this ingenious solution.
She said, after a moment's reflection, that the
fault of this misunderstanding lay between the
two. "I remember now I have had many hints.
My mind must surely have gone to sleep. I was
a poor simple woman who thought her daugh-
ter was to be always a child. And you were
very wrong to go and set a limit to your mo-
ther's love. There is none none whatever."
She added: "I must import a little prudence
and respect for the world's opinion into this new
connection ; but whoever you love shall find no
enemy in me."
Next day Alfred came to know his fate. He
was received with ceremonious courtesy. At
first he was a good deal embarrassed, but this
was no sooner seen than it was relieved by Mrs.
Dodd with tact and gentleness. When her turn
came, she said, "Your papa? Of course you
have communicated this step to him ?"
Alfred looked a little confused, and said^
PerYiapa even \.\v\s ia.Vcv\. ^\.\fc\D^H. X 'n3&-s^:i^' ;^*'
, due to the Vaftvxeivcfe o^ \t. Nnvi^v^M . ^^^^^^1^?^^^
\ young \adiea oi \.Yv\a ngja v\^OT:L\.\xTa\.\v^ ^^^.^t^
60
VERY HARD CASH.
'' No : he left for London two days ago, as it
happens."
'^That is unfortunate," said Mrs. Dodd.
" Your best plan would be to write to him at
once. I need hardly tell you that we shall enter
no family without an invitation from its head."
Alfred replied that he was well aware of that,
and that he knew his father, and could answer
for him.
** No doubt," said Mrs. Dodd ; " but as a mat-
ter of reasonable form, I prefer he should an-
swer for himself."
Alfred would write by this post. **It is a
mere form," said he, **for my father has but
one answer to his children, * Please yourselves.'
He sometimes adds, * and how much money shall
you want?' These are his two formulae."
He then delivered a glowing eulogy on his
father ; and Mrs. Dodd, to whom the boy's char-
octer was now a grave and anxious study, saw
with no common satisfaction his cheek flush,
and his eyes moisten, as he dwelt on the calm,
sober, unvarying affection, and reasonable in-
dulgence, he and his sister had met with all their
lives from the best of parents. Returning to the
topic of topics, he proposed an engagement. ** I
have a ring in my pocket," said this brisk wooer,
looking down. But this Mrs. Dodd thought
premature and unnecessary.
** You are nearly of age," said she, ** and then
you will be able to marry, if you are in the same
mind." But, upon being warmly pressed, she
half conceded even this. "Well," said she,
"on receivirig your father's consent, you can
propose an engagement to Julia, and she shall
use her own judgment. But until then you will
not even mention such a thing to her. May I
count on so much forbearance from you, Sir ?"
"Dear Mrs. Dodd," said Alfred, "of course
you may. I should indeed be ungrateful if I
could not wait a post for that. May I write to
my father here ?" added he, naively.
Mrs. Dodd smiled, furnished him with writ-
ing materials, and left him, with a polite ex-
cuse.
" Albion Villa, Sept. 99.
*^ Mt bkab Fatbeb, Yon are too thoroagh a man of
the world, and too well versed in human nature, to be
surprised at hearing that I, so long invulnei-able, have at
last formed a devoted attachment to one whose beauty,
goodness, and accomplishments I will not now enlarge
upon ; they are indescribable, and you will very soon see
them and judge for yourself. The attachment, though
Bhort in weeks and months, has been a very long one in
hopes, and fears, and devotion. I should have told you
of it before you left, but in truth I had no idea I was so
near the goal of all my earthly hopes. There were many
difficulties, but these have just cleared away almost mi-
racnlouBly, and nothing now is wanting to my happiness
(mt your consent It would be affectation, or worse, in
me to doubt that you will grant it. But in a matter so
delicate, I venture to ask you for pomething more. The
mother of my ever and only beloved Julia is a lady of
high breeding and sentimei^s.
'She will not let her daijghter enter any family with-
out a cordial invitation froip its head. Indeed, she has
Just told me so. I ask, therefore, not your bare consent^
of which I am sure, since my happiness for life depends
on it, but a consent so gracefully worded and who can
do this better than you? as to gratifv the just pride
and sensibilities of the high-minded family about to con-
fide ita tnrightest ornament to my care.
^Hgr dear father, in the midst of felicity almost more
tban mortal, the thought has come that this letter is my
fixst step toward leaviag the paternal roof under ^hich I
Jbmrv teen bo hmppy all my life, thanks to you. I should
; ioOeed be unworthy of bU your goodneaa if this thought
cmoMd me no em(Aion.
0h^^T iJ"* *"f ^'^!? ^ Nature's nniVersal law. And,
maoaia I be maeter of my own des^j^ I wiU not go far
from you. I have been um'ust to Barkington ; tn* rather
I have echoed, without thought, Oxonian prejudices and
affectation. On mature reflection, I know no better reai*
dence for a married* man.
^* Do you remember about a year ago you mentioned a
Miss Lucy Fountain to us as *the most perfect gentle-
woman you had ever metf Well, strange to say, it \a
that very lady's daughter; and I think when you see her
you will say the breed has any thing but declined, in
epite of Horace and his ^damnoea quid non.' Her broth-
er is my dearest friend, and she is Jenny's; so a more
happy alliance for all parties was never projected.
* Write to me by return, dear father, and believe ma
^* Ever your dutiful and gratenil son,
" Altekd Habdis.'*
As he concluded Julia came in, and he in-
sisted on her reading this master-piece. She
hesitated. Then he told her with juvenile se-
verity that a good husband always shares his
letters with his wife.
"His wife? Alfred!" and she colored all
over. "Don't call me names," said she, turn-
ing it off, after fier fashion. "I can't bear it:
it makes me tremble. With fury."
"This will never do, sweet one," said Alfred,
gravely. " You and I are to have no separate
existence, now ; you are to be I, and I am to be
you. Come !"
"No ; you read me so much of it as is proper
for me to hear. I shall not like it so well from
your lips. But never mind."
When he came to read it, he appreciated the
delicacy that had tempered her curiosity. He
did not read it all to her, but nearly.
"It is a beautiful letter," said she; "a little
pompouser than mamma and I write. *The
Paternal Roof!!' But all that becomes you;
you are a scholar : and, dear Alfred, if I should
separate you from your papa, I will never es-
trange you from him ; oh, never, never. May
I go for my work ? for methinks, O most erudite,
the 'maternal dame,' on domestic cares intent,
hath confided to her offspring the recreation of
your highness." The gay creature dropped him
a courtesy and fled to tell Mrs. Dodd the sub-
stance of "the sweet letter the dear high-flown
Thing had written."
By then he had folded and addressed it ; she
returned and brought her work; charity chil-
dren's gray cloaks: her mother had cut them,
and in the height of the fashion, to Jane Har-
die's dismay and Julia was trimming, hem-
ming, etcetering them.
How demurely she bent her lovely head over
her charitable work, while Alfred poured his
tale into her ears ! How careful she was not to
speak, when there was a chance of his speaking !
How often she said one thing so as to express its
opposite, a process for which she might have
taken out a patent ! How she and Alfred com-
pared heart-notes, and their feelings at each
stage of their passion. Their hearts put foith
tendril after tendril, and so curled, and clung
round each other.
In the afternoon of the second blissful day,
Julia suddenly remembered that this was dull
for her mother. To have such a thought was to
fly to her ; and she flew so swiftly that she caught
Mrs. Dodd in tears, and trying adroitly and
vainly to hide them.
"What is the matter? I am a wretch. I
have left you alone.'*
" Do not think me so peevish, love ! you have
but surpnsed iVve ixalMiat T^^wts of a mother at
the loss of Viex c\aM.''
VERY HARD CASH.
51
**0h, mamma,*' said Jnlia, warmly, "and do
you think all the marriage in the world can ever
divide you and me, can make me lukewarm to
my own sweet, darling, beautiful, blessed, angel,
mother ? Look at me, I am as much your Julia
as ever ; and shall he while I live. It's a son
who is a son only till he gets him a wife : but
your daughter's your daughter all the dats of
HEK LIFE.**
Divine power of native eloquence ; with this
trite distich, yon made hexameters tame; it
gushed from that great young heart with a sweet
infantine ardor, that even virtue can only pour
when young, and youth when virtuous ; and, at
the words I have emphasized by the poor device
of capitals, two lovely, supple arms were mina-
ciously spread out like a soaring albatross's
wings, and then went all round the sad mother,
and gathered every bit of her , up to the generous
young hosom. ^^
"I know it, I know it,*' cried Mrs. Dodd,
kissing her; "I shall never lose my daughter,
while she breathes. But I am losing my child.
You are turning to a woman, visibly. And you
were such a happy child. Hence my misgivings,
and these weak tears ; which you have dried
with a word; see!** And she contrived to smile.
" And now q6 down, dearest : he may be impa-
tient. Men's love is so fiery."
The next day Mrs. Dodd took Julia apart
and asked her whether there was an answer
from Mr. Hardie. Julia replied, from Alfred,
that Jane had received a letter last night, and,
to judge by the contents, Mr. Hardie must have
left London before Alfred's letter got there.
"He is gone to see poor Uncle Thomas.*'
'* Why do you call him * poor ?' "
" Oh, he is not very clever. Has not much
mind, Alfred says, indeed, hardly any.'*
"You alarm me, Julia!*' cried Mrs. Dodd,
** what ? madness in the family you propose to
marry into?'*
" Oh no, mamma,** said Julia, in a great hur-
ry ; "no madness ; only a little imbecility.'*
Mrs. Dodd's lip curved at this, Julia's answer ;
but just then her mind was more drawn to an-
other topic. A serious doubt passed through
her whether, if Mr. Hardie did not write soon,
she ought not to limit his son's attendance on
her daughter. **He follows her about like a
little dog, "said she, half fretfully.
Next day, by previous invitation, Dr. Samp-
son made Albion ^^lla his head-quarters. Dart-
ing in from London he found Alfred sitting very
dose to Julia over a book.
' * Lordsake ! '* cried he. " Here's * my puppy,'
and *m' enthusiast, cheek by chowl." Julia
turned scarlet, and Alfred ejaculated so loudly
that Sampson inquired what on aiith was the
matter now ?
" Oh, nothing ; only here have I been jealous
of my own shadow, and pestering her who * your
puppy* was ; and she never would tell me. All
I could get from her,'* added he, turning sud-
denly from gratitude to revenge, "was that he
was no greater a puppy than yourself, doctor."
" Oh, Alfred, no ; I only said no vainer," cried
Julia in dismay.
" Well, it is true," said Sampson, contentedly,
and proceeded to dissect himself just as he would
a stran^jer. "I am a vain man ; a remarkably
min man. Bat then Fm a man of great mirit."
"All vain people are that,** suggested Alfred,
dryly.
"Who should no better than you, young Ox-
ford ? Y* have got a hidache."
"No indeed.'*
"Don't tell lies now. Ye can't deceive me;
man, I've an eye like a hawk. And what's that
y'ere studing with her ? Ovid, for a pound."
"No, medicine; a tre^iise on your favorite
organ, the brain ; by one Dr. Whately."
"He is chaffing you, doctor," said Edward,
"it is logic. He is coaching her; and then
she will coach me."
"Then I forbid the chaflf-cutting, young
Fidant. Logic is an ill plaster to a sore head."
" Oh, * the labor we delight in, physics pain.' *'
**Jinnyu8, Jinnyus;
Take care o* your carkusH,"
retorted the master of doggrel. "And that is a
profounder remark than you seem to think by
your grinning, all of ye."
Julia settled the question by putting away the
book. And she murmured to Alfred, ** I wish I
could steal your poor dear headaches : you might
give me half of them at least ; you would, too,
if you really loved me.'*
This sound remonstrance escaped criticism by
being nearly inaudible, and by Mrs. Dodd en-
tering at the same moment.
After the first greeting, Sampson asked her
with merry arrogance how his perscription had
worked? "Is her sleep broken still, ma'am?
are her spirits up and down ? Shall we have to
go back t' old Short and his black draught?
How's her mukis membrin? An her biSaiy
ducks, an she's oiFlike a flash."
"And no wonder," said Mrs. Dodd, reproach-
fully.
Thus splashed Sampson among the ducks.
One of them did not reappear at all till dinner.
Jane Hardie accompanied her brother by invita-
tion. The general amity was diversified, and
the mirth nowise lessened by constant passages
of arms between Messrs. Sampson and Alfred
Hardie; these were characteristic, and a few
dried specimens will be laid before the reader at
a proper time.
After tea came the first contretemps. Samp-
son liked a game of cards. He could play, yet
talk chronothermalism, as the fair can knit ba-
bies' shoes and imbibe the poetasters of the day.
Mrs. Dodd had asked Edward to bring a fresh
pack. He was seen by his guardian angel to
take them out of his pocket and undo them;
presently Sampson, in his rapid way, clutched
hold of them ; and found a slip of paper curled
round the ace of spades, with this written very
clear in pencil,
BEMEMBEB THY OBEATOB IM THE DAYS OF THY YOUTH.
"What is this?" cried Sampson, and read it
out aloud. Jane Hardie colored, and so be-
trayed herself. Her "word in season" had
strayed. It was the young and comely Edward
she wished to save from the diabolical literature,
the painted perdition ; and not the uninteresting
old sinner Sanipson. He proceeded to justify
her preference by remarking that "remember
not to trump your partner's best card, ladies^"
would be moxe \o \5[v^ ^\w\..
Every \od\, esLte^x. VJca% Vt$i.^^^ \k:ss^^^ ^
; was tXioToufeVA^ \mcomivixi^i\^. ^^ *^^^ fe^^x'^^^.
52
VERY HARD CASH.
his face betrayed a degree of youthful mortifica-
tion little short of agony. Mrs. Dodd was pro-
foundly disgusted, but, fortunately for the Har-
dies, caught sight, of his burning cheeks and
compressed lips. " Dr. Sampson," said she, with
cold dignity, "you will, I am sure, oblige me by
making no more comments. Sincerity is not al-
ways discreet; but it is always respectable : it is
one of your own titles to esteem. I dare say,"
added she with great sweetness, "our resources
are not so narrow that we need shock any body's
prejudices, and, as it happens, I was just going
to ask Julia to sing : open the piano, love, and
try if you can persuade Miss Hardie to join you
in a duet."
At this Jane and Julia had an earnest conyer-
sation at the piano, and their words uttered in a
low voice were covered by a contemporaneous
discussion between Sampson and Mrs. Dodd.
Scenipaon, Hum! for all
that, youDg ladies* singiug
is a poor Bubstitufl for cards,
and even for co^ersation.
. Mrs. Dodd. Tliat depends
upon the singer, I pre-
sume.
Sampson. Mai dear
madam, they all sing alike;
just as thej all write alike.
I can hardly tell one fash-
ionable tune from another :
and nobody can tell one
word from another, when
they cut but all the conso-
nants. N* listen me. This
is what I heard sung by a
lady last night,
Ee un Da*ei u aa an oo.
By 00 eeeeyee aa
Vaulleet VauQee, Vaullee,
Vaullee,
Vaullee om ia igh eeaa
An ellin in is ud.
'Mrs, Dodd. That sounds
like gibberish I
Sampson. It is gibberish ;
but it*s Diydenish in articu-
lating mouths. It is
He sung Darius great and
good
By too severe a fate
Fallen, fallen, fallen, fallen,
Fallen from his high estate
And wiltering in his blood.
Mrs, Dodd. I think you
ezx^gerate. I will answer
for Julia that she shall speak
as distinctly to music as you
do in oonversation.
Sampson (All unconscious
of the tap). Time will show,
madam: At prisent they
seem to be in no hurry to
spatter us with their word-
jelly. Does some spark d
pity linger in their marble
bosms? or do they prefer
inaudble chit-chat t* inar-
ticulate mewin ?
Jane. No, you must not
ask me. I have forsworn
these vanities. I have not
opened my piano this two
years.
Julia. Oh, what a pity;
music is so beautiful. And
surely we can choose our
songs, as easily as our
words; ah, how much more
easily.
Jane. Oh,Idon*tgo8ofar
as to call music wicked : but
music in society is aueh a
snare. At least I foimd it
so. My playing was highly
praised; and that stirred up
vanity: and so did my sing,
ing, with which I had even
more reason to be satisfied.
Snares! snares!
JvUa. Dear me! I don*t
find them so. Now you
mention it, gentlemen do
praise one, but, dear me,
they praise every lady, even
when they have been sing-
ing evenr other note out of
tune, liie little unmeaning
compliments of society, can
they catch any thing so great
as a sou].
Jane. 1 pray daily not to
be led into temptation, and
shall I go into it of my own
accord?
Jfdia. Not if you find it
a temptation. At that rate
I ought to decline ?
Jane. That doesn*t follow.
My conscience is not a law
to yours. Besides your
mamma said '^sing;*^ and
a parent is not to be dis.
ob^ed upon a doubt. If
Papa were to insist on my
gdiig to a ball even, or read-
ily a novel, I thhik I should
obey; and lay the whole
case before Him.
Mrs. Dodd (from a dis-
tance). Ckune, my dears.
Doctor Sampson is getting
90 Impatient for your song.
Julia, thus pressed, sang one of those songs
that come and go every season. She spoke the
words clearly, and with such variety and intel-
ligence, that Sampson recanted, and broke in
upon the "very pretty" "how sweet" add
"who is it by?" of the others, by shouting,
'' Very weak trash venr cleanly sung. Jf ow give
as something worth the wear and tear of your
otypns. Immortal rairse widded t' immortal
sounds; that is what I understand b' a song."
Alfred whispered, "No, no, dearest, sing
something suitable to you and me."
"Out of the question. Then go farther
away, dear ; I shall have more courage."
He obeyed, and she turned over two or three
music books; and finally sang from menioiy.
She cultivated musical memory, having observed
the contempt with which men of sense visit the
sorry pretenders to music who are tuneless and
songless among the nightingales, and any where
else away from their books. How will they
manage to sing in heaven ? Answer me that !
The song Julia Dodd sang on this happy oc-
casion, to meet the humble but heterogeneous
views of Messrs. Sampson and Hardie, was a
simple eloquent Irish song called Aileen aroon.
Whose history, by-the-by, was a curious one.
Early in this century it occurred to somebody
to hymn a son of George the Third for his double
merit in having been bom, and going to a ball.
People who thus apply the fine arts in modem
days are seldom artists ; accordingly this para-
site could not invent a melody ; so he coolly stole
Aileen aroon, soiled it by inserting sordid and
incongruous jerks into the refrain, and called
the stolen and adulterated article Robin Adair.
An artisan of the same kidney was soon found
to write words down to the degraded ditty : and,
so strong is Flunkyism, and so weak- fs Criti-
cism in these islands, that the polluted tune ac-
tually superseded the clean melody, and this sort
of thing, "Who was in uniform at the ball?
Silly Billy !" smothered the immortal lines.
But Mrs. Dodd's severe taste in music rejected
those ignoble jerks, and her enthusiastic daugh-
ter having the option to hymn immortal Con-
stancy, or mortal Fact, decided thus :
When like the early rose
Aileen aroon,
Beauty in childhood glows
Aileen aroon,
When like a diadem,
Buds blush around the stem,
Which is the fairest gem?
Aileen aroon.
Is it the laughing eye?
Aileen aroon,
Is it the timid sigh?
Aileen aroon,
Is it the tender tone.
Soft as the stringed harp*s moan?
No; it is Truth alone,
Aileen aroon.
I know a valley fair,
Aileen aroon,
I know a cottage theiW|
Aileen aroon.
Far in that valley's shade,
I know a gentle maid.
Flower of the hazel grade,
Aileen aroon.
Who in the song so sweet?
Aileen aroon.
Who in the dance so fleet?
Aileen aroon.
Dear are her charms to me,
Dearer her laughter free,
Dearest her constancy,
Aileen aroon.
Youth must with time decay,
Aileen aroon,
Beauty must fade away,
Aileen aroon.
CaRtles are sacked in war.
Chieftains are scattered &r,
Truth is a fixed star,
Aileen aroon.
I The Tray lYie eacn^at vsw swa^ xyv^^Xvaft-a, \i
VERY HARD CASH.
53
beyond the conception of ordinary singers, pnblic
or private. Here one of nature's orators spoke
poetry to music with an eloquence as fervid and
delicate as ever rung in the forum. She gave
each verse with the same just variety as if she
had been reciting, and when she came to the last,
where the thought rises abruptly, and is truly
noble, she sang it with the sudden pathos, the
weight, and the swelling majesty, of a truthful
soul hymning truth with all its powers. *
All the hearers, even Sampson, were thrilled,
astonished, spell-bound : so can one wave of im-
mortal music and immortal verse (alas I how
seldom they meet !) heave the inner man when
genius interprets. Judge, then, what it was to
Alfred, to whom, with these great words and
thrilling tones of her rich, swelling, ringing
voice, the darling of his own heart vowed con-
stancy, while her inspired face beamed on him
like an angel's.
Even Mrs. Dodd, though acquainted with the
song, and with her daughter's rare powers, gazed
at her now with some surprise, as well as admi-
ration, and kept a note Sarah had brought her,
open, but unread, in her hand, unable to take her
eyes from the inspired songstress. However, just
before th song ended, she did just glance down,
and saw it was signed Richard Hardie. On this
her eye devoured it ; and in one moment she saw
that the writer declined, politely but peremptori-
ly, the proposed alliance between his son and her
daughter.
. The mother looked up from this paper at that
living radiance and incarnate melody in a sort
of stupor : it seemed hardly possible to her that
a provincial banker could refuse an alliance with
a creature so peerless as that. But so it was ;
and despite her habitual self-government, Mrs.
Dodd's white hand clenched the note till her
nails dented it ; and she reddened to the brow
with anger and mortification.
Julia, whom she had trained never to monop-
olize attention in society, now left the piano in
spite of remonstrance, and soon noticed her mo-
ther's face; for from red it had become paler
than usual. ''Are you unwell, dear ?" said she,
sotto voce.
"No, love."
" Is th any thing the matter, then ?"
" Hush ! We have guests : our first duty is to
them." With this Mrs. Dodd rose, and, endeav-
oring not to look at her daughter at all, went
round and drew each of her guests out in turn.
It was the very heroism of courtesy ; for their
presence was torture to her. At last, to her in-
finite relief, they went, and she was left alone
with her children. She sent the servants to bed,
8a3ring she would undress Miss Dodd : and ac-
companied her to her room. There the first
thing she did was to lock the door ; and the next
was to turn round and look at her full.
" I always thought you the most lovable child
I ever saw ; but I never admired you as I have
to-night ; my noble, my beautiful daughter, who
would grace the highest family in England!"
With this Mrs. Dodd began to choke, and kiss-
ed Julia eagerly with the tears in her eyes, and
drew her with tender defiance to her bosom.
"My own manima," said Julia, softly, "what
has happened?**
"My darling," said Mrs. Dodd, trembling a
little^ "Jbare yaa pride f have you spirit ?"
"I think I have."
"I hope so: for you will need them both.
Read that !'* And she offered Mr. Hardie's let-
ter with averted head.
CHAPTER IX.
Julia took Mr. Hardie's note and read it :
" MaAii I have received a very juvenile letter from
my son, Dy which I leam he has formed a Hudden attach-
ment to year daughter. He tells me, however, at the
same time, that you await my concurrence before giving
your consent. I appreciate your delicacy ; and it is with
considerable regret I now write to inform you this match
is out of the question. I have thought it due to you to com-
municate tills to yourself and without delay, and feel sure
that you will, under the circumstances, discountenance
my son's further visits at your house.
** I am, Madam, with sincere respect,
* Your faithful servant,
^^RiouABD Habdib."
Julia read this letter, and re-read it in silence.
It was an anxious moment to the mother.
" Shall our pride be less than this parvenu's ?**
she faltered. " Tell me yourself, what ought we
to do?"
"What we ought to do is, never to let the
name of Hardie be mentioned again in this
house."
This reply was very comfoTl\xs%^Ki'^^"^^^
54
VERY HARD GASH.
** I feel that, if I do, I may affront him. He
had no right to pretend that his father would
consent. You write, and then we shall not lose
our dignity though we are insulted.'*
" I feel so weary, mamma. Life seems ended."
** I could have loved him well. And now show
me how to tear him out of my heart; or what
will become of me ?"
While Mrs. Dodd wrote to Alfred Hardie, Ju-
lia sank down and laid her head on her mother's
knees. The note was shown her ; she approved
it languidly. A long and sad conversation fol-
lowed ; and, after kissing her mother and cling-
ing to her, she went to bed chilly and listless,
but did not shed a single tear. Her young heart
was benumbed by the unexpected blow.
Next morning early, Alfred Hardie started
gayly to spend the day at Albion Villa. Not a
hundred yards from the gate he met Sarah, with
Mrs. Dodd's letter, inclosing a copy of his fa-
ther's to her. Mrs. Dodd here reminded him
that his visits had been encouraged only upon a
misapprehension of his father's sentiments ; for
which misapprehension he was in some degree
to blame not that she meant to reproach him
on that acore, especially at this unhappy moment :
no, she rather blamed herself for listening to
the sanguine voice of youth ; but the error must
now be repaired. She and^ Julia would always
wish him well, and esteem him, provided he
made no further attempt to compromise a young
lady who could not be his wife. The note con-
cluded thus :
** Individually I think I have some right to count on
your manly and gentlemanly feeling to hold no communi-
cation with my daughter, and not in any way to attract
her attention under the present circumstances.
^*I am, dear Mr. Alfred Hardie,
** With many regrets at the pain I fear
I am giving you,
^* Your sincere friend and well-wisher,
" LuoT Dodd."
Alfred on reading this letter literally staggered :
but proud and sensitive, as well as loving, he
manned himself to hide his wound from Sarah,
whose black eyes were bent on him in merciless
scrutiny. He said doggedly, though tremulously,
" Very well I" then turned quickly on his heel,
and went slowly home. Mrs. Dodd, with well-
feigned indifference, questioned Sarah privately :
the girl's account of the abrupt way in wnch he
had received the missive, added to her anxiety.
She warned the servants that no one was at
home to Mr. Alfred Hardie.
Two days elapsed, and then she received a
letter from him. Poor fellow, it was the eleventh.
He had written and torn up ten :
** Dbab Mes. Dodd, I have gained some victories in
my life ; but not one without two defeats to begin with ;
how then can I expect to obtain such a prize as dear Julia
without a check or two? You need not fear that I shall
intrude after your appeal to me as a gentleman : but I am
not going to give in because my father has wiitten a hasty
letter from Yorkshire. He and I must have many a talk
face to face before I consent to be miserable for life. Dear
Mrs. Dodd, at first receipt of your cruel letter, so kindly
worded, I was broken-hearted ; but now I am myself again.
Difficulties are made for ladies to yield to, and for men to
conquer. Only for pity's sake do not you be my enemy;
do not set her against me for my father's fault. Think, if
you cna, boir my he&rt bleeds at closing this letter without
one word to her I love, better, a thousand times better,
^han my life. I am, dear Mrs. Dodd,
** Yours BarrowfuUy, but not despairing,
'AlFRKD HABDIlt.''
Mrs. Dodd kept this letter to herself. She
could not read it quite unmoved, and therefore
she felt sure it would disturb her daughter's
heart the more.
Alfred had now a soft but dangerous antagonist
in Mrs. Dodd. All the mother was in arms to
secure her daughter's happiness coCite que co^te I
and the surest course seemed to be to detach her
affections from Alfred. What hope of a peaceful
heart without this? and what real happiness
without peace ? But, too wise and calm to in-
terfere blindly, she watched her daughter day
and night, to find whether Love or Pride was
the stronger ; and this is what she observed :
Julia never mentioned Alfred. She sought oc-
cupation eagerly : came oftener than usual for
money, saying it was for " Luxury. " She visited
the poor more constantly, taking one of the maids
with her, at Mrs. Dodd's request. She studied
Logic with Edward. She went to bed rather
early, fatigued, it would appear, by her activity :
and she gave the clew to her own conduct one
day: "Mamma,'* said she, ** nobody is down-
right unhappy, who is good."
Mrs. Dodd noticed also a certain wildness and
almost violence, with which she threw herself
into her occupations : and a worn look about the
eyes that told of a hidden conflict. On the whole,
Mrs. Dodd was hopeful ; for she had never imag-
ined the cure would be speedy or easy. To see
her child on the right road was much. Only the
great healer Time could ** medicine her to that
sweet peace which once she owned;" and eveft
Time can not give her back her childhood,
thought the mother, with a sigh.
One day came an invitation to an evening par-
ty at a house where they always wound up with
dancing. Mrs. Dodd was for declining as usual;
for since that night Julia had shunned parties.
" Give me the sorrows of the poor and afflicted,'*
was her cry; "the gayety of the hollow world
jars me more than I can bear." But now she
caught with a sort of eagerness at this invita-
tion. " Accept ! They shall not say I am wear-
ing the willow."
"My brave girl," said Mrs. Dodd, joyfully,
"I would not press it; but you are right; we
owe it to ourselves to outface scandal. Still,
let there be no precipitation ; we must not un-
dertake beyond our strength."
"Try me to-night," said Julia; "you don't
know what I can do. I dare say he is not pining
for me."
She was the life and soul of the party, and,
indeed, so feverishly brilliant, that Mrs. Dodd
said softly to her, " Gently, love ; moderate your
spirits, or they will deceive our friends as little
as they do me."
Meantime it cost Alfred Hardie a severe
struggle to keep altogether aloof from Julia.
In fact, it was a state of daily self-denial, to
which he would never have committed himself,
but that he was quite sure he could gradually
win his father over. At his age we are apt to
count without our antagonist.
Mr. Richard Hardie was " a long-headed man."
He knew the consequence of giving one's rea-
sons : eternal discussion ending in war. He had
taken care not to give any to Mrs. Dodd, and he
was as guarded and reserved with Alfred. The
young man. V^e^ged to know the why and the
VERY HARD CASH.
55
'ALFRED, HAVE I BEEN AN UNKIND FATHER TO YOU ALL THESE TEARS?'*
art to elicit them by surprise, or get at them by
inference: but all in vain; Hardie senior was
impenetrable; and inquiry, petulance, tender-
ness, logic, were all shattered on him as the
waves break on Ailsa Craig.
** Sic volo, sic jubeo, stet pro ratione volun-
tas,'* was the purport of all he could be got to
say, and that was wonderfully little.
Thus began dissension, decently conducted at
first, between a father indulgent hitherto, and an
affectionate son.
In this unfortunate collision of two strong and
kindred natures, every advantage was at present
on the father's side: age, experience, authori-
ty, resolution, hidden and powerful motives, to
which my reader even has no clew as yet ; a pur-
pose immutable and concealed. Add to these
a colder nature and a far colder affection ; for
Alfred loved his father dearly.
At last, one day, the impetuous one lost his
self-command, and said he was a son, not a slave,
and had little respect for Authority when afraid
or ashamed to appeal to Reason. Hardie scn^-
ior turned on him with a gravity and dignity
no man could wear more naturally. "Alfred,
have I been an unkind father to you all these
years?"
**Oh no, father, no; I have said nothing that
can be so construed. And that is the mystery
to me ; you are acting quite out of character."
"Have I been one of those interfering, prag-
matical fathers, who can not let their children
enjoy themselves their own way?"
"No, Sir; you have never interfered, except
to pay for any thing I wanted."
" Then make me the one return in your power,
young man ; have a little faith in such a father,
and believe that he does not interfere now but
for your good, and under a stem necessity ; and
that, when he does interfere for once, and say,
'this thing shall not be,' it shall not be by
God!"
Alfred was overpowered by the weight and
solemnity of this. Sorrow, vexation, and de-
spondency all rushed into his heart together,
and unmanned him for a moment ; he buried his
face in his hands, and something very like a sob
burst from his young heart. At this Hardie sen-
ior took up the newspaper with imperturbable
coldness, and wore a slight curl of the lip. All
this was hardly genuine, for he was not alto-
gether unmoved ; but he was a man of rare self-
command, and chose to impress on Alfred that
he was no more to ha, bt^Vjesx ot \si^\r.^ ^"5\. -^
mere rocV. . ,
56
VERY HARD CASH.
cynicism was rather able than wise : Alfred look-
ed up and watched him keenly as he read the
monetary article with tranquil interest; and
then, for the first time in his life, it flashed into
the young man's mind that his father was not a
father. "I never knew him till now," thought
he. " This man is aoropyogy*
Thus a gesture, so to speak, sowed the first
seed of downright disunion in Richard Hardie's
house disutiion, a fast -growing plant, when
men set it in the soil of the passions.
Alfred, unlike Julia, had no panacea. Had
any lips, except perhaps hers, told him that " to
be good is to be happy here below," he would
have replied, "Negatur; contradicted by daily
experience." It never occurred to him, there-
fore, to go out of himself, and sympathize with
the sordid sorrows of the poor, and their bottom-
less egotism in contact with the well-to-do. He
brooded on his own love, and his own unhappi-
ness, and his own father's cruelty. His nights
were sleepless, and his days leaden. He tried
hard to read for his first class, but for once even
.ambition failed : it ended in flinging books away
\|^ith a curse. He wandered about dreaming and
hoping for some change, and bitterly regretting
his excessive delicacy, which had tied his own
hands and brought him to a stand-still. He lost
his color and what little flesh he had to lose:
for such young spirits as this are never plump^
In a word, being now strait-jacketed into fem-
inine inactivity, while void of feminine patience,
his ardent heart was pining and fretting itself
out. He was in this condition, when one day
Peterson, his Oxonian friend, burst in on him
open-mouthed with delight, and, as usual with
bright spirits of this calibre, did not even notice
his friend's sadness. ** Cupid had clapped Pe-
terson on the shoulder,'* as Shakspeare hath it ;
and it was a deal nicer than the bum-bailiff
rheumatism.
** Oh, such a divine creature I Met her twice ;
you know her by sight ; her name is Dodd. But
I don't care ; it shall be Peterson ; the rose by
any other name, etc. " Then followed a rapturous
description of the lady's person, well worth omit-
ting. "And such a jolly girl! brightens them
all up wherever she goes ; and such a dancer !
did the catchouka with a little Spanish bloke
Bosanquet has got hold of, and made his black
bolus eyes twinkle like midnight cigars ; danced
it with castanets, and smiles, and such, a what-
d'ye-call-'em, my boy, you know ; such a *go.' "
"You mean such an * abandon,'" groaned
Alfred, turning sick at heart.
" That's the word. Twice the spirit of Duver-
nay, and ten times the beauty. But just you
hear her sing, that is all ; Italian, French, Ger-
man, English even."
** Plaintive songs ?"
" Oh, whatever they ask for. Make you laugh
or make you cry to order ; never says no. Just
smiles and sits down to the music-box. Only
she won't sing two running : they have to stick
a duffer in between. I shall meet her again next
week ; will you come ? Any friend of mine is
welcome. Wish me joy, old fellow ; I'm a gone
coon."
Tbj3 news put Alfred in a frenzy of indigna-
tjon and fear, Julia dancing the catchouka !
' Without lwela of affection.
Julia a jolly girl ! Julia singing songs pathetic
or merry, whichever were asked for ! The heart-
less one ! He called to mind all he had read in
the classics, and elsewhere, about the fickleness
of woman. But this impression did not last long ;
he recalled Julia's character, and all the signs of
a love tender and true she had given him ; he
read her by himself, and, lover-like, laid all the
blame on another. " It was all her cold-blooded
mother. Fool that I have been. I see it all now.
She appeals to my delicacy to keep away ; then
she goes to Julia and says, ' See, he deserts you
at a word from his father. Be proud, be gay !
He never loved you : marry another.' The shal-
low plotter forgets that whoever she does marry
I'll kill. How many unsuspicious girls have these
double-faced mothers deluded so? They do it
in half the novels, especially in those written by
women ; and why ? because these know the per-
fidy and mendacity of their sex better than we
do ; they see them nearer, and with their souls
undressed. War ! Mrs. Dodd, war to the death I
From this moment I am alone in the world with
her. I have no friend but Alfred Hardie : and
my bitterest enemies are my cold-blooded father,,
and her cold-blooded mother."
The above sentences, of course, were never
uttered. But they represented his thoughts ac-
curately, though in a condensed form, and are,
as it were, a miniature of this young heart boil-
ing over.
From that moment he lay in wait for her, and
hovered about the house day and night, determ-
ined to appeal to her personally, and undeceive
her, and baffle her mother's treachery. But at
this game he was soon detected: Mrs. Dodd
lived on the watch now. Julia, dressed to go
out, went to the window one afternoon to look
at the weather ; but retreated somewhat hastily
and sat down on the sofa.
' You flutter, darling, " said Mrs. Dodd. " Ah,
he is there."
"Yes."
"You had better take off your things."
" Oh, yes. I tremble at the thoughts of meet-
ing him. Mamma, he is changed, sadly changed.
Poor, poor Alfred !" She went to her own room
and prayed for him : She told the Omniscient
that, though much greater and better in other
respects than she was, he had not Patience. She
prayed, with tears, that he might have Christian
patience granted him from on high.
"Heart of stone ! she shuns me," said Alfred,
outside. He had seen her in her bonnet,
Mrs. Dodd waited several days to see whether
this annoyance would not die of itself: waiting
was her plan in most things. Finding he was
not to be tired out, she sent Sarah out to him
with a note carefully sealed :
" Me. Alpeed Habdix,-Is it generous to confine my
daughter to the house t Yoursregretfullf,
"LuoyDodd."
A line came back instantly in pencil :
**Mb8. Dodi, Is all the generosity and all the good
faith to be on one side? Yurs in despair,
**AuEKD Habdue.**
Mrs. Dodd colored faintly: the reproach
pricked her, but did not move her. She sat
quietly down that moment, and wrote to a friend
in London, to look out for a furnished villa in a
lie<Yiy patt of the suburbs, with immediate pos-
\ seasioTi, " C\ic\xTQS\.wiev ^^!i %\fe^ " making
VERY HABD CASH.
57
it desirable we should leave Barkington imme-
diately, and for some months."
TheBosanquets gave a large party; Mrs. and
Miss Dodd were there. The latter was playing a
part in a charade to the admiration of all pres-
ent, when in came Mr. Peterson, introducing his
friend, Alfred Hardie.
Julia caught the name, and turned a look of
alarm on her mother : but went on acting.
Presently she caught sight of him at some dis-
tance. He looked very pal^, and his glittering
eye was fixed on her with a sort of stern wonder.
Such a glance from fiery eyes, that had always
dwelt tenderly on her till then, struck her like a
weapon. She stopped short, and turned red and
pale by turns. "There, that is nonsense enough,"
said she bitterly, and went and sat by Mrs. Dodd.
The gentlemen thronged round her with compli-
ments, and begged her to sing. She excused
herself. Presently she heard an excited voice,
toward which she dared not look ; it was inquir-
ing whether any lady could sing Aileen Aroon.
With every desire to gratify the young million-
aire, nobody knew -Aileen Aroon, or had ever
heard of it. ,
* ' Oh, impossible ! " cried Alfred. ** Why it is
in praise of Constancy, a virtue ladies shine in :
at least they take credit for it."
"Mamma," whispered Julia, terrified, "get
me away, or there will be a scene. He is reck-
less."
" Be calm, love :" said Mrs. Dodd, ** there shall
be none." She rose and glided up to Alfred
Hardie, looked coldly in his face ; then said with
external politeness and veiled contempt, "I will
attempt the song. Sir, since you desire it." She
waved her hand, and he followed her sulkily to
the piano. She sang Aileen Aroon, not with
her daughter's eloquence, but with a purity and
mellowness that charmed the room: they had
never heard the genius sing it.
As spirits are said to overcome the man at
whose behest they rise, so this sweet air, and the
gush of reminiscence it awakened, overpowered
him who had evoked them ; Alfred put his hand
unconsciously to his swelling heart, cast one
look of anguish at Julia, and hurried away half
choked. Nobody but Julia noticed.
A fellow in a rough great-coat and tattered
white hat opened the fly door for Mrs. Dodd. As
Julia followed her he kissed her skirt unseen by
Mrs. Dodd : but her quick ears caught a heart-
breaking sigh. She looked, and recognized Al-
fred in that disguise. The penitent fit had suc-
ceeded to the angry one. Had Julia observed ?
To ascertain this without speaking of him, Mrs.
Dodd waited till they had got some little dis-
tance, then quietly put out her hand and rested
it for a moment on her daughter's ; the girl was
trembling violently. "Little wretch!" came to
Mrs. Dodd's lips, but she did not utter it. They
were near home before she spoke at all, and then
she only said very kindly, "My love, you will
not be subjected again to these trials :'* a remark
intended quietly to cover the last occurrence as
well as Alfred's open persecution.
They had promised to go out the very next
day; but Mrs. D^d went alone, and made ex-
cuses for Miss Doad. On her return she found
JnZia sitting up for her, and a letter come from
D
her friend describing a pleasant cottage, now
vacant, near Maida Vale. Mrs. Dodd handed
the open letter to Julia; she read it without
comment.
"We win go up to-morrow and take it for
three months. Then the Oxford vacation will
terminate."
" Yes, mamma."
I am now about to relate a circumstance by no
means without parallels, but almost impossible
to account for; and, as nothing is more common
and contemptible than inadequate solutions, I
shall offer none at all : but so it was, that Mrs.
Dodd awoke in the middle of that very night in
a mysterious state of mental tremor; trouble,
veiled in obscurity, seemed to sit heavy on her .
bosom. So strong, though vague, was this new
and mysterious oppression, that she started up
in bed and cried aloud, "David ! Julia! Oh,
what is the matter?" The sound of her own
voice dispelled the cloud in part, but not en-
tirely. She lay a while, and then finding herself
quite averse to sleep, rose and went to her win-
dow, and eyed the weather anxiously. It waa
a fine night; soft fleecy clouds drifted slowly
across a silver moon. The sailor's wife was re-
assured on her husband's behalf. Her next de-
sire was to look at Julia sleeping; she had no
particular object : it was the instinctive impulse
of an anxious mother whom something had ter-
rified. She put on her slippers and dressing-
govn, and, lighting a candle at her night-lamp,
opened her door softly, and stepped into the lit-
tle corridor. But she had not taken two steps
when she was arrested by a mysterious sound.
It came from Julia's room.
What was it?
Mrs. Dodd glided softly nearer and nearer, all
her senses on the stretch.
The sound came again. It was a muffled sob.
The stifled sound, just audible in the dead still-
ness of the night, went through and through her
who stood there listening aghast. Her bowels
yearned over her child ; and she hurried to the
door, but recollected herself, and knocked verj-
gently. "Don't be alarmed, love, it is only me.
May I come in ?" She did not wait for the an-
swer, but turned the handle and entered. She
found Julia sitting up in bed, looking wildly at
her, with cheeks flushed and wet. She sat on
the bed and clasped her to her breast in silence :
but more than one warm tear ran down upon
Julia's bare neck ; the girl felt them drop and
her own gushed in a shower.
" Oh, what have I done ?" she sobbed. * * Am
I to make you wretched too?"
Mrs. Dodd did not immediately reply. She
was there to console ; and her admirable good
sense told her that to do that she must be calmer
than her patient ; so even while she kissed and
wept over Julia, she managed gradually to re-
cover her composure. " Tell me, my child," said
she, "why do you act a part with me? Why
brave it out under my eye, and spend the night
secretly in tears ? Are you still afraid to trust
me?"
" Oh, no, no ; but I thought I was so strongs
so proud : I \mdrlooVL tk*3^'k&. \. ^wv Va'QHx^
my pride Nas ^ mo\ft-\vK\^ wi^\a^Vss^ ^T^a.^^^.-
i aln, 1 cou\d xvo\. \vo\^ wA \y3 ^?i ^'^ ^ ^^^ ^^'^
58
VERY HARD CASH.
ease my breaking heart at night. How unfortu-
nate! I kept my head under the bed-clothes,
too ; but you have such ears. I thought I would
stifle my grief, or else perhaps you would be as
wretched as I am: forgive me! pray forgive
me!"
" On one condition," said Mrs. Dodd, strug-
gling with the emotion these simple words caused
her. "Any thing to be forgiven!" cried Julia,
impetuously. "I'll go to London. Til go to
Botany Bay. I deserve to be hanged."
** Then, from this hour, no half confidences
between us. Dear me, you carry in your own
bosom a much harsher judge, a much less in-
dulgent friend than I am. Come I trust me with
your heart ! Do you love him very much ? Does
your happiness depend on him ?"
At this point-blank question Julia put her
head over Mrs. Dodd's shoulder, not to he seen ;
and, clasping her tight, murmured scarce above
a whisper, "I don't know how much I love him.
When he came in at that party I felt his slave ;
his unfaithful adoring slave ; if he had ordered
me to sing Aileen Aroon, I should have obeyed ;
if he had commanded me to take his hand and
leave the room, I think I should have obeyed.
His face is always before me as plain as life ; it
used to come to me bright and loving ; now it is
pale, and stern, and sad. I was not so wretched
till I saw he was pining for me, and thinks mc
inconstant ; oh, mamma, so pale ! so shrunk ! so
reckless! He was sorry for misbehaving that
night : be changed clothes with a beggar to kiss
my dress r poor thing ! poor thing ! Who ever
loved as he does me ? I am dying for him ; I
am dying."
" There ! there !" said Mrs. Dodd, soothingly.
"You have said enough. This must be love. I
am on your Alfred's side from this hour."
Julia opened her eyes, and was a good deal
agitated as well as surprised. "Fray do not
raise my hopes," she gasped. "We are parted
forever. His father refuses. Even you seemed
averse ; or have I been dreaming ?"
" Me, dearest? How can I be averse tp any
thing lawful, on which I find your heart is really
set, and your happiness at stake ? Of course I
have stopped the actual intercourse, under exist-
ing circumstances ; but these circumstances are
not unalterable : your only obstacle is Mr. Rich-
ard Hardie."
" But what an obstacle, ** sighed Julia. * * His
father! a man of iron! so every body says;
for I have made inquiries oh !" And she was
abashed. She resumed hastily, " And that let-
ter, so cold, so cruel I I feel it was written by
one not open to gentle influences. He does not
think me worthy of his son ; so accomplished,
so distinguished, at the very university where
our poor Edward ^has ^you know."
"Little simpleton!" said Mrs. Dodd, and
kissed her tenderly; "your iron man is the
commonest clay, sordid ; pliable ; and your stern
heroic Brutus is a shop-keeper; he is open to
the gentle influences, which sway the kindred
souls of the men you and I buy our shoes, our
tea, our gloves, our fish-kettles of: and these
influences I command, and will use them to the
utmost. **
Julia lay silent, and wondering what she could
mean.
But Mrs. Dodd hesitated nowi it pained and
revolted her to show her enthusiastic girl the
world as it is. She said as much, and added,
"I seem to be going to aid all these people to
take the bloom from my own child's innocence.
Heaven help me !"
"Oh, never mind that," cried Julia, in her
ardent way; "give me Truth before Error, how-
ever pleasing."
Mrs. Dodd replied only by a sigh : grand gen-
eral sentiments, like that, never penetrated her
mind : they glided off like water from a duck's
back. "We will begin with this mercantile
Brutus, then,'* said she, with such a curl of the
lip. Brutus had rejected her daughter.
" Richard Hardie was born and bred in a
bank: one where no wild thyme blows, love;
nor cowslips nor the nodding violet grows ; but
gold and silver chink, and things are discounted,
and men grow rich slowly, but surely, by lawful
use of other people's money. Breathed upon by
these * gentle influences,' he was, from his youth,
a remarkable man ; measured by Trade's stand-
ard. At five-and-twenty divine what he did!
He saved the bank. You have read of bub-
bles ; the Mississippi Bubble and the South Sea
Bubble. Well, in the year 1825, it was not one
bubble but a thousand ; mines by the score, and
in distant lands; companies by the hundred;
loans to every nation or tribe, down to Guate-
mala, Patagonia, and Greece : two hundred new
ships were laid on the stocks in one year, for
your dear papa told me; in short, a fever of
speculation, and the whole nation raging with
it ; my dear. Princes, Dukes, Duchesses, Bish-
ops, Poets, Lawyers, Physicians, were seen strug-
gling with their own footmen for a place in the
Exchange : and, at last, good, steady, old Mr.
Hardie, Alfred's grandfather, was drawn into
the vortex. Now, to excuse him and appreciate
the precocious Richard, you must try and realize
that these bubbles, when they rise, are as allur-
ing and reasonable, as they are ridiculous and
incredible when one looks back on them ; even
soap-bubbles, you know, have rainbow hues till
they burst; and, indeed, the blind avarice of
men does but resemble the blind vanity of wo-
men : look at our grandmothers' hoops, and our
mothers' short waists and monstrous heads ! Yet
in their day what woman did not glory in these
insanities? Well then, Mr. Richard Hardie, at
twenty-five, was the one to foresee the end of
all these bubbles ; he came down from London
and brought his people to their senses by sober
reason, and * sound commercial principles ;' that
means, I believe, * get other peoples' money, but
do not risk your own.' His superiority was so
clear, that his father resigned the helm to him,
and, thanks to his ability, the bank weathered
the storm, while all the other ones in the town
broke, or suspended their trade. Now, you
know, youth is naturally ardent and speculative :
but Richard Hardie's was colder and wiser than
other peoples' old age: and that is one trait.
Some years later, in the height of his prosperity
I reveal this only for your comfort, and on
your sacred promise as a person of delicacy,
never to repeat it to a soul Richard Harcue
was a suitor for my hand."
"Mamma!"
"Do not ejaculate, sweetest! It rather dis-
composes me. * Nothing is extraordinary,' as
that good creatuie &a.ys. ^^ TCL\]i&\.\iv;^ thought
VERY HARD CASH.
it would answer, in one way or another, to have
a gentlewoman at the head of his table. And
I was ndt penniless, bien entenda. Failing in
this, he found a plain little Thing, with a gloomy
temper, and no accomplishments nor graces ; but
her father could settle twenty thousand pounds.
He married her directly : and that is a trait. He
sold his father's and grandfather's house and
place of business, in spite of all their associa-
tions, and obtained a lease of his present place
from my uncle Fountain; it seemed a more
money-making situation. A trait. He gives
Se no reason for rejecting my daughter. Why ?
icause he is not proud of his reasons: this
walking Avarice has intelligence : a trait. Now
put all this together, and who more transparent
than the profound Mr. Hardie? He has de-
clined our alliance because he takes for granted
we are poor. When I undeceive him on that
head he will reopen negotiations, in a letter;
No. 2 of the correspondence ; copied by one of
his clerks : it will be calm, plausible, flattering :
in short, it will be done like a gentleman:
though he is nothing of the kind. And this
brings me to what I ought to have begun with ;
your dear father and I have always lived with-
in our income for our children's sake; he is
bringing home the bulk of our savings this very
voyage, and it amounts to fourteen thousand
pounds."
"Oh, what an enormous sum !"
"No, dearest, it is not a fortune in itself.
But it is a considerable sum to possess, inde-
pendent of one's settlement and one's income. It
is loose cash, to speak k la Hardie ; that means
I can do what I choose with it ; and of course I
choose to make you happy. How I shall work
on what you call Iron and I call Clay must be
guided by circumstances. I think of depositing
three or four thousand pounds every month with
Mr. Hardie ; he is our banker, you know. He
will most likely open his eyes, and make some
move before the whole sum is in his hands. If
he does not, I shall perhaps call at his bank and
draw a chept for fourteen thousand pounds.
The wealthiest provincial banker does not keep
such a sum floating in his shop-tills. His com-
mercial honor, the one semi-chivalrous senti-
ment in his soul, would be in peril. He would
yield, arfd with grace : none the less readily that
his house and his bank, which have been long
heavily mortgaged to our trustees, were made
virtually theirs by agreement yesterday (I set
this on foot within twelve hours of Mr. Iron's
impertinent letter), and he will say to himself,
*She can ^post me, I think they call it this
afternoon for not cashing her check, and she
can turn me and my bank into the street to-
morrow:' and then, of course, he shall see by
my manner the velvet paw is offered as well as
the claw. He is pretty sure to ask himself
which will suit the ledger best this cat's friend-
ship and her fourteen thousand pounds, or an
insulted another's enmity ?'* And Mrs. Placid's
teeth made a little click just audible in the silent
night.
" Oh, mamma ! my heart is sick. Am I to
be bought and sold like this ?"
" You most pay the penalty for loving a par-
tena's son. Come, Julia, no peevishness, no
more romance, no more vaciiiation. Yon have
tried Fride and failed, pitiably : now I insist on
you trying Love ! Child, it is the bane of our
sex to carry nothing out. From that weakness
I will preserve you. And, by-the-by, we are not
going to marry Richard Hardie, but Alfred.
Now Alfred, with all his faults and defects '*
"Mamma! what faults? what defects?"
" Is a gentleman ; thanks to Oxford, and Har-
row, and nature. My darling, pray to Heaven
night and day for your dear father's safe return ;
for on him, I assure you, and him alone, your
happiness depends : as mine does."
"Mammal'* cried Julia, embracing her,
"what do poor girls do who have lost their
mother?"
" Look abroad and see !" was the grave reply.
Mrs. Dodd then begged her to go to sleep
like a good child for her health's sake; all
would be well; and with this was about to re-
turn to her own room : but a white hand and
arm darted out of the bed and caught her.
"What! Hope has come to me by night in the
form of an angel, and shall I let her go back to
her own room ? Never ! never ! never ! never !
never!" And she patted the bed expressively,
and with the prettiest impatience.
" Well let Hope take off her ear-rings first,"
suggested Mrs. Dodd.
"No, no, come here directly, ear-rings and
all."
"No, thank you; or I shall have them hurt-
ing you next."
Mrs. Placid removed her ear-rings, and the
tender pair passed the rest of the night in one
another's arms. The young girl's tears were
dried ; and hope revived, and life bloomed again:
only, henceforth, her longing eyes looked out to
sea for her father : homeward bound.
Next day, as they were seated together in the
di*awing-room, Julia came from the window with
a rush, and kneeled at Mrs. Dodd's knees with
bright imploring face upturned.
" He is there ; and I am to speak to him ?
I thajtit?"
" Bear, dear, dear mamma !"
" Well, then, bring me my things !"
She was ten minutes putting them on : Julia
tried to expedite her; and retarded her. She
had her pace ; and could not go beyond it.
By this time Alfred Hardie was thoroughly
miserable. Unable to move his father, shunned
by Julia, sickened by what he had heard, and
indeed seen, of her gayety and indifference to
their separation, stung by jealousy, and fretted
by impatience, he was drinking nearly all the
bitters of that sweet Passion, Love. But as you
are aware he ascribed Julia's inconstancy, light-
ness, and cruelty, all to Mrs. Dodd. He hated
her cordially, and dreaded her into the bargain :
he played the sentinel about her door all the
more because she had asked him not to do it.
"Always do what your enemy particularly objects
to," said he, applying to his own case the wisdom
of a Greek philosopher, one of his teachers.
So, when the gate suddenly opened, and in-
stead of Julia, this very Mrs. Dodd walked to-
ward him, his feelings were any thing but en-
viable. He wished himself away^ lleart\VJ^Vs^^Jv.
was too ptoud to teXT^.\. "^^ ^\ac^\A^ ^^xsk^^
She came wq \.o\i\m\ . Ow^xsvY^^^'wCA^'wOt.^
I out ovet YieiWuxea, ^^ Ksi,^x,^^^v^^ ^^Sw
60
VERY HARD CASH.
she, **if you have nothing hetter to do, will you
give me a minute ?" He assented with an ill
grace.
" May I take your arm ?"
He offered it with a worse.
She laid her hand lightly on it, and it shud-
dered at her touch. He felt like walking with a
velvet tigress.
By some instinct she divined his sentiments,
. and found her task more difficult than she had
thought; she took some steps in silence. At
last, as he was no dissembler, he burst out pas-
sionately, " Why are you my enemy ?'*
"I am not your enemy," said she, softly.
"Not openly, but all the more dangerous.
You kept us apart, you bid her be gay, and for-
get me ; you are a cruel, hard-hearted lady.*'
"No, I am not, Sir," said Mrs. Dodd, sim-
ply.
** Oh ! I believe you are good and kind to all
the rest of the world ; but you know you have a
heart of iron for me."
"I am my daughter's friend, but not your
enemy ; it is you who are too inexperienced to
know how delicate, how difficult, my duties are.
It is only since last night I see my way clear ;
and, look, I come at once to you with friendly
intentions. Suppose I were as impetuous as
you are I I should, perhaps, be calling you un-
grateful.'*
He retorted bitterly, " Give me something to
be grateful for, and you shall see whether that
baseness is in my nature."
" I have a great mind to put you to the proof,"
said she, archly. *' Let us walk down this lane ;
then you can be as unjust to me as you please,
without attracting public attention.'*
In the lane she told him quietly she knew the
nature of his father's objections to the alliance
he had so much at heart, and they were objec-
tions which her husband, on his return, would
remove. On this he changed his tone a little,
aad implored her piteously not to deceive him.
** I will not," said she, " upon my honor. If
you are as constant as my daughter is in her
esteem for you notwithstanding her threadbare
gayety worn over loyal regret, and to check a
parcel of idle ladies' tongues ^you have nothing
to fear from me, and every thing to expect.
Come, Alfred may I take that liberty with you ?
^let us understand one another. We only
want that to be friends."
This was hard to resist ; and at his age. His
lip trembled, he hesitated, but at last gave her
his hand. She walked two hours with him, and
laid herself out to enlighten, soothe, and com-
fort his sore heart. His hopes and happiness
revived under her magic, as Julia's had. In
the midst of it all, the wise woman quietly made
terms, he was not to come to the house but on
her invitation, unless indeed he had news of the
Agra to communicate ; but he might write once
a week to her, and inclose a few lines to Julia.
On this concession he proceeded to mumble her
white wrist, and call her his best, dearest, love-
liest friend his mother. "Oh, remember!"
said he, with a relic of distrust, " you are the
only mother I can ever hope to have."
TAat touched ber. Hitherto he had been to
^^ ^"^ ^ ^^'^S ber daughter loved,
^oS'^^-^^f ^^^^^ ''^y P^or warm-hearted,
motherless boy, " she said, "pray for my husl
band's safe return I For on that your happiness
depends : and hers. And mine."
So now two more bright eyes looked*longing-
ly seaward for the Agra ; homeward bound.
CHAPTER X.
North Latitude 23^, Longitude East 113;
the time March of this same year ; the wind
southerly; the port Whampoa, in the Canton
river. Ships at anchor reared their tall masts
here and there ; and the broad stream was en-
livened and colored by junks, and boats, of all
sizes and vivid hues, propelled on the screw prin-
ciple by a great scull at the stern, with project-
ing handles for the crew to work ; and at times
a gorgeous mandarin boat, with two great glar-
ing eyes set in the bows, came flying, rowed
with forty paddles by an armed crew, whose
shields hung on the gunwale and flashed fire in
the sunbeams: the mandarin, in conical and
buttoned hat, sitting on the top of his cabin calm-
ly smoking Paradise, alias opium, while his gong
boomed and his boat flew fourteen miles an hour,
and all thinga sculllad owt of his celestial way.
And there, looking m.^%sXvi\\^ ^q'^itl ora. il
VERY HARD CASH.
61
these water ants, the huge AgrOy cynosure of so
many loving eyes and loving hearts in England,
lay at her moorings, homeward bound.
Her tea not being yet on board, the ship's hull
floated high as a castle, and to the subtle, intel-
lectual, doll-faced, bolus-eyed people, that scull-
ed to and fro busy as bees, though looking
forked mushrooms, she sounded like a vast mu-
sical shell : for a lusty harmony of many mellow
voices vibrated in her great cavities, and made
the air ring cheerily around her. The vocalists
were the Cyclops, to judge by the tremendous
thumps that kept clean time to their sturdy tune.
Yet it was but human labor, so heavy and so
knowing, that it had called in music to help. It
was the third mate and his gang completing his
floor to receive the coming tea-chests. Yester-
day he had stowed his dunnage, many hundred
bundles of light flexible canes from Sumatra and
Malacqa; on these he had laid tons of rough
saltpetre, in 200-ponnd gnnny-bags: and was
now mashing it to music, bags and all. His
gang of fifteen, naked to the waist, stood in line,
with huge wooden beetles called commanders,
and lifted them high and brought them down on
the nitre in cadence with true nautical power
and unison, singing as follows, with a ponderous
bump on the last note in each bar :
While Mr. Grey was contemplating his work
with singular satisfaction, a small boat from Can-
ton came alongside, and Mr. Tickcll, midship-
man, ran up the side, skipped on the quarter-
dock, saluted it first, and then the first mate;
and gave him a line from the captain, desiring
him to take the ship down to Second Bar for
her water at the turn of the tide.
Two hours after receipt of this order the ship
swung to the ebb. Instantly Mr. Sharpe un-
moored, and the Agra began her famous voyage,
with her head at right angles to her course ; for
the wind being foul, all Sharpe could do was to
set his top-sails, driver, and jib, and keep her in
the tide-way, and clear of the numerous craft, by
backing or filling as the case required ; which he
did with considerable dexterity, making the sails
steer the helm for the nonce : he crossed the Bar
at sunset, and brought to with the best bower
anchor in five fathoms and a half. Here they
began to take in their water, and on the fifth day
the six-oared gig was ordered up to Canton for
the captain. The next afternoon he passed the
ship in her, going down the river to Lin-Tin, to
board the Chinese admiral for his chop, or per-
mission to leave China. All night the Agra
showed three lights at her mizen-pcak for him,
and kept a sharp look-out. But he did not come :
i
3
^
m
I *1 n
-21^
P=^
Here goes one,
Owe me there one,
One now it
^
s
-2^-^
^
There's an other yet to come, And a - way we'll go to Flan-
f
mongst our wood - en com-mand - ers,
i
^ -A
jS., | j' J jp ^ii II
lerewell get wine in plen-ty, Rum, bran - dy, and ge-na-vy.
Here goes two. Owe me there two, etc.
And so up to fifteen, when the stave was con-
cluded with a shrill ** Spell, oh I" and the gang
relieved streaming with perspiration. When the
saltpetre was well mashed, they rolled ton butts
of water on it, till the floor was like a billiard-
table. A fleet of chop boats then began to arrive,
so many per day, with the tea-chests. Mr. Grey
proceeded to lay the first tier on his saltpetre
floor, and then built the chests, tier upon tier,
beginning at the sides, and leaving in the mid-
dle a lane somewhat narrower than a tea-chest.
Then he applied a screw-jack to the chests on
both sides, and so enlarged his central aperture,
and forced the remaining tea-chests in ; and be-
hold the enormous cargo packed as tight as ever
shop-keeper packed a box nineteen thousand
eight hundred and six chests, sixty half chests,
&Sfr quarter chests.
he was having a very serious talk with the Chi-
nese admiral; at daybreak, however, the gig
was reported in sight : Sharpe told one of the
midshipmen to call the boatswain and man the
side. Soon the gig ran alongside ; two of the
ship's boys jumped like monkeys over the bul-
warks, lighting, one on the main channels, the
other on the midship port, and put the side ropes
assiduously in the captain's hands ; he bestowed a
slight ])aternal smile on them, the first the imps
had ever received from an oflicer, and went light-
ly uj) the sides. The moment his foot touched
the deck, the boatswain gave a frightfd shrill
whistle ; the men at the sides uncoff^rcd ; the
captain saluted the quarter-deck, and all the of-
ficers saluted him, which, ba t^\?ax^^^^ wA^^^ss^
ping fox a momcux. \ft \)[vt^^"BKN\^' Ar. ^\k^ ^^i^
i gave t\ie AoM^L (ioinmaxi^ ^^ KJ\\!aS^^^^ ^^-
e2
VERY HARD CASH.
*THE BROAD STREAM WAS ENLIVENED AND COLORED BY JUNKS, AND BOATS, OF ALL SIZES
AND VIVID HUES." A
chor.** He then directed Mr. Sharpe to get what
sail he could on the ship, the wind heing now
westerly ; and dived into his cabin.
The boatswain piped three shrill pipes, and
"all hands up anchor" was thrice repeated for-
ward, followed by private admonitions, " Roase
and bitt!" "Show a leg !" etc., and up tumbled
the crew with homeward bound written on their
tanned faces.
(Pipe.) " Up all hammocks !"
In ten minutes the ninety and odd hammocks
were all stowed neatly in the netting, and covered
with a snowy hammock cloth ; and the hands
were active, unbitting the cable, shipping the
capstan bars, etc.
"All ready below. Sir," cried a voice.
"Man the bars," returned Mr. Sharpe from
the quarter-deck. "Play up, fifer. Heave
away !'*
Outy)roke the merry fife with a rhythmical
tune, anc^ramp, tramp, tramp went a hundred
and twenty feet round and round, and, with
brawny chests pressed tight against the capstan
bars, sixty Sne fellows walked the ship up to her
anchor, drowning the fife at intervals with their
sturdy song, as pat to their feet as an echo:
Heave with a wHl, ye jolly boys,
Heave arounl ;
We*re off from Chainee, jolly boys,
Homeward bound.
"Short Stay apeak, Sir," roars the boatswain
from forward.
" Unship the bars. Way aloft. Loose sails.
Let fall!"
The ship being now over her anchor, and the
top-sails set, the capstan bars were shipped again,
the men all heaved with a will, the messenger
grinned, the anchor was torn out of China with
a mighty heave, and then run up with a luff
tackle and secured ; the ship's head cast to port:
" Up with the jib ! man the taupsle halliards !
all hands make sail!" Round she came slow
and majestically ; the sails filled, and the good
ship bore away for England.
She made the Bogue forts in three or four
tacks, and there she had to come to again for
' another chop, China being a place as hard to
' get into as Heaven, and to get out of as Chan-
eery. At three p.m. she was at Macao, and
hove to four miles from the land, to take in her
passengers.
I A gua was ^ted ttom l^it ^OT^tfiJ(\fc, "^q \ats
VERY HARD CASH.
68
came off. Sharpe began to fret : for the wind,
though light, had now got to the N.W., and they
were wasting it. After a while the captain came
on deck, and ordered all the carronades to be
scaled. The eight heavy reports bellowed the
great ship's impatience across the water, and out
pulled two boats with the passengers. While
they were coming Dodd sent and ordered the
gunner to load the carronades with shot, and se-
cure and apron them. The first boat brought
Colonel Kenealy, Mr. Fullalove, and a prodigious
negro, who all mounted by the side ropes. But
the whip was rigged for the next boat, and the
Honorable Mrs. Beresford and poodle hoisted
on board, item her white maid, item her black
nurse, item her little boy and male Oriental in
charge thereof, the strangest compound of dig-
nity and servility, and of black and white, being
clad in snowy cotton and japanned to the nine.
Mrs. Beresford was the wife of a member of
council in India. She had been to Macao for her
boy's health, intending to return to Calcutta;
but meantime her husband was made a director,
and went home : so she was going to join him.
A tall, handsome lady, with too curved a nose.
Like most aquiline women she was born to dom-
ineer a 1^; and, for the last ten years, Orient-
als cringng at her knee, and Europeans flatter-
ing at her ear, had nursed this quality high, and
spoiled her with all their might. A similar proc-
ess had been applied to her boy Frederick from
infancy ; he was now nearly six : arrogance and
caprice shone so in both their sallow faces, and
spoke so in every gesture, that, as they came on
board, Sharpe, a reader of passengers, whis-
pered the second mate: **Bayliss, we have
shipped the devil."
"And a cargo of his imps," grunted Mr.
Bayliss.
Mr. Fullalove was a Methodist parson to the
naked eye : grave, sober, lean, lank-haired. But
some men are hidden fires. Fullalove was one
of the extraordinary products of an extraordinary
nation, the United States of America. He was
an engineer for one thing, and an inventive and
practical mechanician ; held two patents of his
own creating, which yielded him a good income
both at home and in Great Britain. Such results
are seldom achieved without deep study and
seclusion: and accordingly Joshua Fullalove,
when the inventive fit was on, would be buried
deep as Archimedes for a twelvemonth, burning
the midnight oil : then, his active element pre-
dominating, the pale student would dash into the
forest or the prairie, with a rifle and an Indian,
and come out bronzed, and more or less bepan-
thered or bebuffaloed; thence invariably to sea
for a year or two: there, Anglo-Saxon to the
back-bone, his romance had ever an eye to busi-
ness; he was always after foreign mechanical
inventions he was now importing an excellent
one from Japan and ready to do lucrative feats
of knowledge : thus he bought a Turkish ship at
the bottom of the Dardanelles for twelve hun-
dred dollars, raised her cargo (hardware), and
sold it for six thousand dollars ; then weighed
the empty ship, pumped her, repaired her, and
navigated her himself into Boston harbor, Mas-
sachusetts. On the way he rescued, with his
late drowned ship, a Swedish vessel, and re-
ceived salvage. He once fished eighty elephants'
tasks out of a craft fouDdered in the Firth of
Forth, to the disgust of elder Anglo-Saxons
looking on from the shore. These unusual pur-
suits were varied by a singular recreation : he
played at elevating the African character to
European levels. With this view he had bought
Vespasian for eighteen hundred dollars ; where-
of anon. America is fertile in mixtures : what do
we not owe her? Sherry cobbler, gin sling;,
cocktail, mint julep, brandy smash, sudden death,
eye openers. Well, one day she outdid herself,
and mixed Fullalove: Quaker, Nimrod, Archi-
mede. Philanthropist, decorous Red Rover, and
What Not.
The passenger boats cast loose.
"All hands make sail!"
The boatswain piped, the light-heeled topsmen
sped up the ratlines, and lay out on the yards,
while all on deck looked up, as usual, to see
them work. Out bellied sail after sail aloft ; the
ship came courtesying round to the southward,
spread her snowy ])inions high and wide, and
went like a bird over the wrinkled sea home-
ward bound.
It was an exhilarating start, and all faces were
bright ; but one. The captain looked somewhat
grave and thoughtful, and often scanned the ho-
rizon with his glass; he gave polite but very short
answers to his friend Colonel Kenealy firing no-
things in his ear ; and sent for the gunner.
While that personage, n crusty old Niler,
called Monk, is cleaning himself to go on the
quarter- deck, peep we into Captain Dodd's trou-
bled mind, and into the circumstances which
connect him with the heart of this story, despite
the twelve thousand miles of water between him
and tlje lovers at Barkington.
It had always been his pride to lay by money
for his wife and children, and, under advice of an
Indian friend, he had, during the last few years,
placed considerable sums, at intervals, in a great
Calcutta house, which gave eight per cent, for
deposits : swelled by fresh capital, and such high
interest, the hoard grew fast. When his old
ship, sore battered off the Cape, was condemned
by the company's agents at Canton, he sailed to
Calcutta, intending to return thence to England
as a passenger. But while he was at Calcutta
the greatest firm there suspended payment, car-
rying astonishment and dismay into a hundred
families. At such moments the press and the
fireside ring for a little while with the common-
sense cry,* " Good interest means bad security^"
As for Dodd, who till then had revered all these
great houses with nautical, or childlike, confi-
dence, a blind terror took the place of blind
trust in him ; he felt gnilty toward his children
for risking their money (he had got to believe \l
was theirs, not his), and vowed, if he could only
get hold of it once more, he would never trust a
penny of it out of his own hands again ; except,
perhaps, to the Bank of England. But should
he ever get it ? it was a large sum. He went to
Messrs. Anderson and Anderson, and drew for
his fourteen thousand pounds. To his dismay,
but hardly to his surprise, the clerks looked at
one another, and sent the check in to some inner
department. Dodd was kept waiting. Hii heart
sank within him : there was a hitch. **
Meantime came a government oflScer, and paid
* The Dukft oi ^emus^u ^\v^ Vtoo. omS^ a SJos^ ^sSosa.
of t\\\B ftoymg.
64
VERY HARD CASH.
in an enormoos sum in notes and mercantile
bills, principally the latter.
Presently Dodd was invited into the manager's
room.
"Leaving the country, Captain Dodd?"
"Yes, Sir."
" You had better take some of your money in
bills at sight on London."
"I would rather have notes, SirJ" faltered
Dodd.
**0h, bills by Oliveira upon Baring are just
as good, even without our indorsement. How-
ever, you can have half and half. Calcutta does
but little in English bank-notes, you know."
They gave him his money. The bills were all
manifestly good. But he recognized one of them
as having just been paid in by the civilian. He
found himself somehow safe in the street clutch-
ing the cash, with one half of his great paternal
heart on fire, and the other half freezing. He
had rescued his children's fortune ; but he had
seen destruction graze it The natural chill at
being scraped by peril soon passed, the triumph-
ant glow remained. The next sentiment was
precaution; he filled with it to the brim; he
went and bought a great broad pocket-book with
a key to it ; though he was on dry land, he cov-
ered it with oiled silk against the water ; and
sewed the whole thing to his flannel waistcoat,
and felt for it with his hand a hundred times a
day: the fruit of his own toil, his children's
hoard, the rescued treasure he was to have the
joy of bringing home safe to the dear partner
of all his joys.
Unexpectedly, he was ordered out to Canton
to sail the Agra to the Cape. Then a novel and
strange feeling came over him like a cloud ; that
feeling was a sense of personal danger : not that
the many perils of the deep were new to him :
he had faced them this five-and-twenty years :
but till now they were little present to his imag-
ination ; they used to come ; be encountered ;
be gone: but now, though absent, they dark-
ened the way. It was the pocket-book. The
material treasure, the hard cash, which had
lately set him in a glow, seemed now to load
his chest and hang heavy round the neck of his
heart. Sailors are more or less superstitious:
and men are creatures of habit, even in their
courage. Now David had never gone to sea with
a lot of money on him before. As he was a stout-
hearted man, these vague forebodings would,
perhaps, have cleared away with the bustle, when
the Agra set her studding-sails off Macao, but
for a piece of positive intelligence he had picked
up at Lin-Tin. The Chinese admiral had warned
him of a pirate, a daring pirate, who had been
lately cruising in these waters: first heard of
south the line: but had, since, taken a Russian
ship at the very mouth of the Canton river, mur-
dered the crew in sight of land, and sold the wo-
men for slaves, or worse. Dodd asked for par-
ticulars : was he a Ladroner, a Malay, a Bor-
nese ? In what latitude was he to be looked for ?
The admiral on this examined his memoranda :
by th^ it appeared little was known as yet about
the miscreant, except that he never cruised long
on one ground ; the crew was a mixed one : the
captain was believed to be a Portuguese, and to
Aave a consort commanded by bis brother : but
tAig was doubtful; at aU events the pair had
never been seen at work together.
The gunner arrived and saluted the quarter-
deck; the captain on this saluted him, and
beckoned him to the weather side. On this the
other officers kept religiously to leeward.
"Mr. Monk," said Dodd, "you will clean and
prepare all the small-arms directly."
"Ay, ay. Sir!" said the old Niler, with a
gleam of satisfaction.
"How many of your deck guns are servicea-
ble?"
This simple question stirred up in one mo-
ment all the bile in the poor old gentleman's
nature.
" My deck guns ! serviceable ! how the
can they, when that son of a sea cook your third
mate has been and lashed the water butts to
their breechings, and jammed his gear in between
their nozzles, till they can't breathe, poor things,
far less bark. I wish he was lashed between the
devirs hind hocks with a red-hot cable as tight
as he has jammed my guns."
" Be so good as not to swear, Mr. Monk," said
Dodd. "At your age, Sir, I look to you to set
an example to the petty officers."
"Well, I won't swear no more. Sir: d d if
I do !" He added very loudly, and with a seem-
ing access of ire, "and I ax your pa^on, cap-
tain, and the deck's." *
When a man has a deep anxiety, some human
midge or mosquito buzzes at him. It is a rule.
To Dodd, heavy with responsibility, and a dark
misgiving he must not communicate, came deli-
cately, and by degrees, and with a semigenuflec-
tion every three steps, one like a magpie ; and,
putting his hands together, as our children do to
approach the Almighty, delivered himself thus,
in modulated tones, and good Hindoostanee :
"The Daughter of Light, in whoso beams I,
Ramgolam, bask, glows with an amicable desire
to see the lord commander of the ship resembling
a mountain; and to make a communication."
Taught by sad experience how weighty are the
communications the daughters of light pour into
nautical commanders at sea, Dodd hailed Mr.
Tickell, a midshipman, and sent him down to the
lady's cabin. Mr. Tickell soon came back red-
dish, but grinning, to say that nothing less than
the captain would do.
Dodd sighed, and dismissed Monk with a
promise to inspect the gun-deck himself; then
went down to Mrs. Beresford and found her in-
dignant. Why had he stopped the ship miles
and miles from Macao, and given her the trouble
and annoyance of a voyage in that nasty little
boat? Dodd opened his great brown eyes,
"Why, madam, it is shoal water off Macao ; we
dare not come in."
"No evasion, Sir. What have I to do with
your shoal water? it was laziness, and want of
consideration for a lady who has rented half your
ship."
" Nothing of the kind, madam, I assure you."
"Are you the person they call Grentleman
Dodd?"
"Yes."
"Then don't contradict a lady! or I shall
take the liberty to dispute your title."
Dodd took no notice of this, and with a pa-
tience few nautical commanders would have
shown, endeavored to make her see that he was
obliged to gve lAacao shoals a wide berth, or
cast away the b\vv\. ^"^^ nnoxM tloX. fifc vt
VERY HARD CASH.
65
When Dodd saw she wanted, not an explana-
tion, but a grievance, he ceased to thwart her.
**I am neglecting my duties to no purpose,**
said he, and left her without ceremony. This
was a fresh offense; and, as he went out, she
declared open war. And she made it too from
that hour : a war of pins and needles. '
Dodd went on the gun-deck and found that the
defense of the ship had, as usual in these peace-
ful days, been sacrificed to the cargo. Out of
twenty eighteen-pounders she carried on that
deck he cleared three, and that with difficulty.
To clear any more he must have sacrificed either
merchandise or water : and he was not the man
to do either on the mere chance of a danger so
unusual as an encounter with a pirate. He was
a merchant-captain, not a warrior.
Meantime the Agra had already shown him
great sailing qualities : the log was hove at sun-
down and gave eleven knots; so that, with a
good breeze abaft, few fore and aft rigged pi-
rates could overhaul her. And this wind car-
ried her swiftly past one nest of them, at all
events ; the Ladrone Isles. At nine p.m. all the
lights were ordered out. Mrs. Berosford had
brought a novel on board, and refused to com-
ply ; the master-at-arms insisted ; she threaten-
ed him with the vengeance of the Company, the
premier, and the nobility and gentry of the Brit-
ish realm. The master-at-arms, finding he had
no chance in argument, doused the glim pitia-
ble resource of a weak disputant then basely
fled the rhetorical consequences.
The northerly breeze died out, and light varia-
ble winds batiied the ship. It was the 6th April
ere she passed the Macclesfield Bank, in latitude
16. And now they sailed for many days out of
sight of land ; Dodd's chest expanded : his main
anxiety at this part of the voyage lay in the state
cabin ; of all the perils of the sea none shakes
a sailor like fire. He set a watch day and night
on that spoiled child.
On the 1st May they passed the great Nantu-
na, and got among the Bornese and Malay Isl-
ands: at which the captain's glass began to
sweep the horizon again : and night and day at
the dizzy foretop-g^lant-mast-head he placed
an Eye.
They crossed the line in longitude 107, with
a slight breeze, but soon fell into the Doldrums.
A d^ calm, and nothing to do but kill time.
Dodd had put down Neptune : that old black-
guard could no longer row out on the ship's port
side and board her on the starboard, pretending
to come from ocean's depths; and shave the
novices with a rusty hoop and dab a soapy brush
in their mouths. But Champagne popped, the
sexes flirted, and the sailors span fathomless
yams, and danced rattling hornpipes; fiddled
to by the grave FuUalove. **If there is a thing
I can dew, it's fiddle," said he. He and his
friend, as he systematically called Vespasian,
taught the crew Yankee steps, and were be-
loved. One honest saltatory British tar offered
that western pair his grog for a week. Even
Mrs. Beresford emerged, and walked the deck,
quenching her austere regards with a familiar
smile on Colonel Kenealy, her escort : this gal-
lant, good-natured soldier flattered her to the
nin^ and, Ending her aweeten with his treacle,
tried to reconcile her to his old friend Dodd.
Straight she soured, and forbade the topic im-
periously.
By this time the mates and midshipmen of the
Agra had fathomed their captain. Mr. Tickell
delivered the mind of the united midshipmen
when he proposed Dodd's health in their mess-
room, '*as a navigator, a mathematician, a sea-
man, a gentleman, and a brick, with three times
three."
Dodd never spoke to his officers like a ruf-
fian, nor yet palavered them : but he had a very
pleasant way of conveying appreciation of an
officer's zeal by a knowing nod with a kindly
smile on the heels of it. As for the men, they
seldom come in contact with the captain of a
well-officered ship ; this crew only knew him at
first as a good-tempered soul, who didn't bother
about nothing. But one day, as they lay be-
calmed south of the line, a jolly foretopman
came on the quarter-deck with a fid of soup,
and saluting and scraping, first to the deck, then
to the captain, asked him if he would taste that.
* * Yes, my man. Smoked ! ' '
"Like and blazes, your honor, axing
your pardon, and the deck's."
** Young gentleman," said Dodd to Mr. Mere-
dith, a midshipman, " be so good as to send the
cook aft !'*
The cook came, and received, not an oath nor
a threat, but a remonstrance, and a grim warn-
ing.
In the teeth of this he burned the soup hor-
ribly the very next day. The crew sent the lucky
foretopman aft again. He made his scrape and
presented his fid. The captain tasted the soup,
and sent Mr. Grey to bid the boatswain's mate
! pipe the hands on deck and bring the cook aft.
I "Quarter-master, unsling a fire-bucket and
I fill it from the men's kids : Mr. Tickell, see the
cook swallow his own mess. Bosen's mate, take
a bight of the flying jib sheet, stand over him,
and start him if he dallies with it !" With- this
the captain went below, and the cook, supping
at the bucket, delivered himself as follows:
"Well, ye lubbers, it is first rate. Theresa no
burn in it. It goes down like oil. Curse your
lady-like stomachs ; you ain't fit for a ship ; why
don't ye go ashore and man a gingerbread coach
and feed ofl^ French frogs and Italian baccy pipe
stems ? (Whack.) What the is that for ?*'
Boatswain's mate. "Sup more and jaw less!"
* * Well I am supping as fast as I can. (Whack,
whack.) Bloody end to ye, what are ye about?
(Whack, whack, whack.) Oh, Joe, Lord bless
you I canU eat any more of it. (Whack.) I'll
give you my grog for a week only to let me fling
the stuff over the side. (Whack, whack,
whack.) Oh, good, kind, dear Mr. Tickell, do
go down to the captain for me." (Whack, whack.)
"Avast !" cried the captain, reappearing, and
the uplifted rope fell harmless.
"Silence, fore and aft 1"
("Pipe I")
"The cook has received a light punishment
this time for spoiling the men's mess. My crew
shall eat nothing I can't eat myself. My care is
heavier than theirs is ; but not my work, nor my
danger in time of danger. Mind that, or you'll
find I caiv \ d& RNt^ & Wii \QaaXKt ^&S3i^.
PnrsetV*
VERY HARD CASH.
"Double the men's grog! they have been
cheated of their meal.**
"Ay, ay, Sir!"
"And stop the cook's and his mate's for a
week."
"Ay, ay, Sir!"
"Bosen, pipe down!"
"Shipmates, listen to me," said the foretop-
man. "This old Agra is a d d com-for-table
ship."
The oracular sentence was hailed with a ring-
ing cheer. Still it is unlucky the British seaman
is so enamored of theological terms ; for he con-
stantly misapplies them.
After lying a week like a dead log on the calm
but heaving waters, came a few light puffs in the
upper air and inflated the topsails only : the ship
crawled southward, the crew whistling for wind.
At last, one afternoon, it began to rain, and
after the rain came a gale from the eastward.
The watchful skipper saw it purple the water to
windward, and ordered the topsails to be reefed
and the lee ports closed. This last order seemed
an excess of precaution; but Dodd was not yet
' thoroughly acquainted with his ship's qualities :
and the hard cosh round his neck made him
cautious. The lee ports were closed, all but one,
and that was lowered. Mr. Grey was working
a problem in his cabin, and wanted a little light
and a little air, so he just droo])ed his port ; but,
not to deviate from the spirit of his captain's in-
structions, he fastened a tackle to it; that he
might have mechanical force to close it with
should the ship lie over.
Down came the gale with a whoo, and made
all crack. The ship lay over pretty much, and
the sea poured in at Mr. Grey's port. He ap-
plied his purchase to close.it. But though his
tackle gave him the force of a dozen hands, he
might as well have tried to move a mountain :
on the contrary, the tremendous sea rushed in
and burst the port wide open. Grey, after a vain
struggle with its might, shrieked for help ; down
tumbled the nearest hands, and hauled on the
tackle in vain. Destruction was rushing on the
ship, and on them first. But meantime the cap-
tain, with a shrewd guess at the general nature
of the danger he could not see, had roared out,
* * Slack the main sheet !" The ship righted, and
the port came flying to, and terror-stricken men
breathed hard, up to their waists in water and
floating boxes. Grey barred the unlucky port,
and went aft, drenched in body and wretched in
mind, to report his own fault. He found the
captain looking grim as death. He told him,
almost crying, what he had done, and how he
had miscalculated the power of the water.
Dodd looked and saw his distress. " Let it be
a lesson, Sir," said he, sternly. "How many
ships have been lost by this in fair weather, and
not a man saved to tell how the craft was fooled
away?"
" Captain, bid me fling myself over the side,
and I'll do it."
"Humph ! I'm afraid I can't afford to lose a
good oflScer for a fault he will never re-
peat."
It blew hard all night and till twelve the next
dajr. The Apra showed her weak point: she
rolled abominably. A dirty night came on.
Ai eifrht bells Mr, Grey, toached by Dodd's
clemency, and brimful of zeal, reported a light
in Mrs. Beresford's cabin. It had been put out
as usual by the master-at-arms ; but the refrac-
tory one had relighted it
"Gro and take it away," said Dodd.
Soon screams were heard from the cabin.
"Oh, mercy! mercy! I will not be drowned
in the dark."
Dodd, who had kept clear of her so long, went
down and tried to reassure her.
"Oh, the tempest! the tempest!" she cried.
"And to be drowned in the dark !"
'* Tempest? It is blowing half a gale of wind ;
that is all."
" Half a gale ! Ah, that is the way you always
talk to us ladies. O, pray give me my light, and
send me a clergyman !"
Dodd took pity, and let her have her light,
with a midshipman to watch it. He even made
her a hypocritical promise, that, should there be
one grain of danger, he would lie to ; but said
he must not make a foul wind of a fair one for a
few lee lurches. The Agra broke plenty of glass
and crockery though with her fair wind and her
lee lurches.
Wind down at noon next day, and a dead
calm.
At two P.M. the weather cleared; the sun
came out high in heaven's centre ; and a balmy
breeze from the west.
At six twenty-five, the grand orb set calm and
red, and the sea was gorgeous with miles and
miles of great ruby dimples : it was the first
glowing smile of southern latitude. The night
stole on so soft, so clear, so balmy, all were loth
to close their eyes on it : the passengers linger-
ed long on deck, watching the Great Bear dip,
and the Southern Cross rise, and overhead a
whole heaven of glorious stars most of us have
never seen, and never shall see in this world.
No belching smoke obscured, no plunging pad-
dles deafened ; all was musical ; the soft air
sighing among the sails"; the phosphorescent
water bubbling from the ship's bows ; the mur-
murs from little knots of men on deck subdued
by the great calm : home seemed near, all dan-
ger far ; Peace ruled the sea, the sky, the heart :
the ship, making a track of white fire on the
deep, glided gently yet swiftly homeward, urged
by snowy sails piled up like alabaster towers
against a violet sky, out of which looked a thou-
sand eyes of holy tranquil fire. So melted the
sweet night away.
Now carmine streaks tinged the eastern sky at
the water's edge, and that water blushed ; now
the streaks turned orange, and the waves below
them sparkled. Thence splashes of living gold
flew and settled on the ship's white sails, the
deck, and the faces; and, with no more pro-
logue, being so near the line, up came majestic-
ally a huge, fiery, golden sun, and set the sea
flaming liquid topaz.
Instant the look-out at the foretop-gallant-
mast-head hailed the deck below.
* * Strange sail ! Right ahead ! '*
The strange sail was reported to Captain
Dodd, then dressing in his cabin. He came soon
after on deck and hailed the look-out : " Which
way is she standing ?"
" Can't say, ^\t. Can't see her move any."
VERY HARD CASH.
67
fiut ; and taking his deck glass went lightly np
to the foretop-gallant-mast cross-trees. There,
through the light haze of a glorious morning, he
espied a long low schooner, latine-rigged, lying
close nnder Point Leat, a small island about
nine miles distant on the weatherbow: and
nearly in the Agra^s course, then approaching
the Straits of Gaspar, 4 Latitude S.
" She is hove to,'* said Dodd, very gravely.
At eight o'clock the stranger lay about two
miles to windward : and still hove to.
By this time all eyes were turned upon her,
and half a dozen glasses. Every body, except
the captain, delivered an opinion. She was a
Greek lying to for water : she was a Malay com-
ing north with canes, and short of hands : she
was a pirate watching the Straits.
The captain leaned silent and sombre with his
arms on the bulwarks, and watched the suspect-
ed Craft.
Mr. FuUalove joined the group, and leveled
a powerful glass of his own construction. His
inspection was long and minute, and while the
glass was at his eye, Sharpe asked him half in a
whis{)er, could he make out any thing ?
" Wa'al," said he, ** the varmint looks consid-
erably snaky." Then, without moving his glass,
he let drop a word at a time, as if the facts were
trickling into his telescope at the lens, and out at
the sight. * * One two four seven, false ports. "
There was a momentary murmur among the
officers all round. But British sailors are un-
demonstrative : Colonel Kenealy, sti-olling the
deck with his cigar, saw they were watching an-
other ship with maritime curiosity and making
comments ; but he discerned no particular emo-
tions nor anxiety in what they said, nor in the
grave low tones they said it in. Perhaps a
brother seaman would though.
The next observation that trickled out of Fulla-
love's tube was this : ** I judge there are too few
hands on deck, and too many white eyeballs
^glittering at the port- holes."
"Confound it!" muttered Bayliss, uneasily;
** how can you see that ?"
Fullalove replied only by quietly handing his
glass to Dodd. The captain, thus a])pealed to,
glued his eye to the tube.
" Well, Sir ; see the false ports, and the white
eyebrows!" asked Sharpe, ironically.
"I see this is the best glass I ever looked
through," said Dodd, doggedly, without inter-
rupting his inspection.
** I think he is a Malay pirate," said Mr. Grey.
Sharpe took him up very quickly, and, indeed,
angrily: ** Nonsense I And if he is, he won't
venture on a craft of this size."
** Says the whale to the sword-fish," suggested
Fullalove, with a little guttural laugh.
The captain, with the American glass at his
eye, turned half round to the man at the wheel :
"Starboard!"
** Starboard it is."
"Steer South South East."
"Ay, ay. Sir.*' And the ship's course was
thus altered two points.
This order lowered Dodd fifty per cent, in Mr.
Sharpe's estimation. He held his tongue as long
as he could ; but at last his surprise and dissatis-
faction bnrst out of him. " Won't that bring
hixD oat on un ?** # I
" Very likely. Sir," replied Dodd.
" Begging your pardon, captain, would it not
be wiser to keep our course, and show the black-
guard we don't fear him?"
"When we dof Sharpe, he has made up his
mind an hour ago whether to lie still, or bite.
My changing my course two points won't change
his mind : but it may make him declare it ; and
/ must know what he does intend, before I run
the ship into the narrows ahead."
"Oh, I see," said Sharpe, half convinced.
The alteration in the Agra's course produced
no movement on the part of the mysterious
schooner. She lay to under the land still, and
with only a few hands on deck, while the Agra
edged away from her and entered the Straits
between Long Island and Point Leat, leaving
the schooner about two miles and a half distant
to the N.W.
Ah ! The stranger's deck swarms black with
men!
His sham ports fell as if by magic, his guns
grinned through the gaps like black teeth ; his
huge foresail rose and filled, and out he came in
chase.
The breeze was a kiss from Heaven, the sky a
vaulted sapphire, the sea a million dimples of
liquid, lucid, gold.
CHAPTER XH.
Among the curiosities of human reasoning is
this: one forms a judgment on certain state-
ments ; they turn out incorrect, yet the judg-
ment sound.
This occurs oftenest, when, to divine what any
known person will do in a case stated, we go
boldly by his character, his habits, or his inter-
est: for these are great forces, toward which
men gravitate through various and even con-
trary circumstances.
Now women, sitting at home out of detail's
way, are somewhat forced, as well as naturally
inclined, to rely on their insight into character;
and, by this broad clew, often pass through false
or discolored data to a sound calculation.
Thus it was Mrs. Dodd Applied her native sa-
gacity to divine why Richard Hardie declined
Julia for his son's wife, and how to make him
withdraw that dissent : and the fair diviner was
much mistaken in detail, but right in her con-
clusion; for Richard Hardie was at that mo-
ment the unlikeliest man in Barkington to de-
cline Julia Dodd with hard cash in five figures
for his daughter-in-law.
I am now about to make a revelation to the
reader, that will incidentally lead him to Mrs.
Dodd's conclusion,, but by a difierent path.
The outline she gave her daughter and my
leader of Richard Hardie's cold and prudent
youth was substantially correct; but something
had occurred since then, unknown to her, un-
known to all Barkington. The centuries had
blown a respectable bubble. About two hun-
dred and fifty years ago, some genius, as un-
known as the inventor of the lathe, laid the first
wooden tramroad^ to ^vv^VAsi b Vw^^ \r \x^:
forty -two CYil. \xv%\.iA ^^ ^s^^xnXqkv^. 'YWik ^'^'^*
owners BOOH \iafceL\\.\at%i\^. \Q.Yl^V\tQwx^
68
VERY HARD CASH.
were inrented ; but prejadice, stronger than that
metal, kept them down, and the wooden ones
in vogue, for some thirty years. Then iron pre-
vailed.
Meantime, a much greater invention had been
creeping on to join the metal way ; I mean the
locomotive power of steam ; whose histoiy is not
needed here. Enough that in 1804 took place
as promising a wedding as civilization ever saw ;
for then an engine, built by Trevethick, a great
genius frittered for want of pluck, drew car-
riages, laden with ten tons, five miles an hour
on a Welsh railway. Then stout Stephenson
came on the scene, and insisted on benefiting
mankind in spite of themselves, and of shallow
legislators, a priori reasoners, and a heavy Re-
view, whose political motto was '*Stemus super
antiquas vias;" which may be rendered, ** Bet-
ter stand still on turnpikes than move on rails."
His torments and triumph are history.
Two of his repartees seem neat : 1. To Lord
Noodle, or Lord Doodle, which was it? object-
ing haughtily, "and suppose a cow should get
in the way of your engine. Sir?" he replied,
"Why, then it would be bad ^for- the coow."
The objector found he had overrated the obstruct-
ive power of his honored parent.
2. To the a priori reasoners, who sat in their
studies and demonstrated with complete unanim-
ity that uncogged wheels would revolve on a
smooth rail, but leave the carriage in statu quo,
he replied by building an engine with Lord Ra-
vensworth's noble aid, hooking on eight car-
riages, and rattling off up an incline. " Solvi-
tur ambulando," quoth Stephenson the stout-
hearted to Messrs. A Priori.
Next a coach ran on the Stockton and Dar-
lington rail. Next the Liverpool and Manches-
ter line was projected. Oh then what bitter
opposition to the national benefactors, and the
good of man.
Awake from the tomb echoes of dead Cant !
"The revolving wheels might move the engine
on a rail; but what would that avail if they
could not move them in the closet, and on a
mathematical paper. Railways would be bad for
canals, bad for morals, bad for highwaymen, bad
for road-side inns : the smoke would kill the par-
tridges (* Aha ! thou has touched us nearly,' said
the country gentlem/n), the travelers would go
slowly to their destination, but swift to destruc-
tion."
And the Heavy Review, whose motto was
"Stemus super turnpikes," offered "to back
old Father Thames against the Woolwich rail-
way for any sum." And Black Will, who drove
the next heaviest ephemeral in the island, told
a school -boy, who now writes these pages,
"there's nothing can ever be safe at twenty
miles an hour, without 'tis a bird in the air:"
and confirmed it with an oath. Briefly, buzz !
buzz! buzz!
Gray was crushed, Trevethick driven out ofi
the country, stout Steevie thwarted, badgered,
taunted, and even insulted, and bespattered
with dirt, I might say with dung ; since his op-
ponents discharged their own brains at him by
speech and writing. At last, when after the
manner of men they had manured their bene-
factor well, they consented to reap him. Rail-
^ays prevailed, and increased, till lo and behold
prune minister with a spade delving one in
the valley of the Trent. The tide turned ; good
working railways from city to city became an
approved investment of genuine capital; not-
withstanding the frightful frauds and extortion
to which the projectors were exposed in a par-
liament, which, under a new temptation, showed
itself as corrupt and greedy as any nation or
age can parallel.
When this sober state of things had endured
some time, there came a year that money was
loose, and a speculative fever due in the whirli-
gig of time. Then railways bubbled.
New ones were advertised, fifty a month, and
all went to a premium. High and low scrambled
for the shares, even when the projected line was
to run from the town of Nought to the village
of Nothing across a goose common. The flame
spread, fanned by prospectus and advertisement,
those mines of glowing fiction, compared with
which the legitimate article is a mere tissue of
understatements ; Princes sat in railway tenders,
and clove the air like the birds whose effigies
surmount their armorials; some stiffish Peers
relaxed into Boards; Bishops warned their
clergy against avarice, and buttered Hudson an
inch thick for shares; and turned their little
aprons into great pockets ; men, stainless hither-
to, put down their infants, nurses included, as
independent subscribers, and bagged the cou-
pons, capturi tartaros : nearly every thing that
had a name, and, by some immense fortuity,
could write it, demanded its part in the new and
fathomless source of wealth : a char-woman's
two sons were living in a garret on fifteen shil-
lings a piece per week; down went their ex-
cellencies' names for 37,000 worth of bubbling
iron; another shareholder applied imperiously
from a house in Grosvenor Square; he had
breakfasted on the steps. Once more, in Time's
whirligig, gentlemen and their footmen jostled
one another on the exchange, and a motley crew
of peers and printers, vicars and admirals, pro-
fessors, cooks, coster-mongers, cotton-spinners,
waiters, coachmen, priests, pot-boys, bankers,
braziers, dairymen, mail -guards, barristers,
spinsters, butchers, beggars, duchesses, rag-
merchants; in one word, of Nobs and Snobs;
fought and scrambled pell-mell for the popular
paper ; and all to get rich in a day.*
Richard Hardie had some money in existing
railways ; but he declined to invest his hard cash
upon hypotheticals. He was repeatedly solicited
to be a director; but always declined. Once
he was offered a canny bribe of a thousand
pounds to let his name go on a provisional com-
mittee. He refused with a characteristic re-
mark; "I never buy any merchandise at a
fancy price, not even hard cash."
Antidote to the universal mania, Barkington
had this one wet blanket : an unpopular institu-
tion ; but far more salutary than a damp sheet ;
especially in time of Bubble.
Nearly all his customers consulted Richard
Hardie, and this was the substance of his re-
plies: "The Bubbles of History, including the
great one of my youth, were national, as well as
individual, follies. It is not so now ; the railways,
that ruin their allottees and directors, will be pure
* For the hamors of the tune see the parliamentary re-
turn of Railway Snbscribers, published 1846: FranciiCs
Brltlsli 'Railway*. liva.i\a' Commercial Crisis: and tbe
pampblela and joumsAa ol t\i ^7 .
VERY HARD CASH.
additions to the national property, and some day
remove one barrier more from commerce. 'J'ho
Dutch tulip frenzy went on a petty fnncy ; the
Railway fury goes on a great fact. Our prede-
ceaaors blew more soap hubbloH; wo blow an iron
bubble: but hero the diHtinction cndn; in 182/
the country undertook immediate cnp;agcmontH,
tofulAU which a century's income would not have
Bufficcd : to-day a thousand railway companies
are registered, requiring a capital of six huudred
million ; and another thousand projected, to cost
another Ave hundred million. Where is the
money to come from ? If the world wus botli
cultivated and civilized Hnstcad of neither^ and
this nation could le sold, with every building,
ship, quadruped, jewel, and marketable female
in it, it would not fistch the mon(v to make
these railways: yet the country uncfertakes to
create them in threcj years unth ttajloating cajiitaL
Arithmetic of Bedlam I The thing can not last
a year without collapsing."
Richard Hardio talked like this from first to
last.
But, when he saw that shares invariably
mounted ; that even those who, for want of in-
terest, had to buy them at a premium, sold them
at a profit ; when he saw pau])crs making largo
fortunes in a few months, by buying into every
venture and selling the next week ; he itched for
Ills share of the booty, and determined to profit
in act by the credulity of mankind as well as ex-
])Ose it in words. He made use of his large con-
nections to purchase shares ; which he took care
to part with speedily ; he cleared a good deal of
money ; and that made him hungrier : he went
deejicr and deeper into what he called Flat catch-
ing, till one day he stood to win thirty thousand
pounds at a coup.
But it is dangerons to bo a convert, real or
false, to Bubble : the game is to be rash at once,
and turn prudent at the full tide. When Richard
Uardie was up to his chin in these time bargains,
came an incident not easy to foresee : the con-
ductors of the Times, either from patriotism, or
long-sighted policy, punctured the bladder,
though they were makmg thousands weekly by
the railway advertisements. The time was so
well chosen, and the pin applied, that it was a
death-blow ; shares declined from that morning,
and the inevitable panic was advanced a week or
two. The more credulous si)eculators held on in
hopes of a revival; but Hardie, who knew that
the collapse had been merely hastened, saw the
gravity of the situation, and sold largely at a
heavy loss. But he could not sell all the bad
paper he had accumulated for a temporary pur-
pose ; the panic came too swiftly, and too strong;
soon there wore no buyers at any price. The
biter was bit : the fox who had saiu *' this is a
trap; I'll lightly come and lightly go," was
caught by the light fantastic too. In this emerg-
ency ho showed high qualities; vast financial
ability, great fortitude, and that sense of com-
mercial honor, which Mrs. Dodd justly called
his scmiF-chivalrous sentiment, lie mustered all
his private resources to meet his engagements,
and maintain his high position.
Then commenced a long and steady struggle,
conducted with a Spartan dignity and self-com-
mand, and a countenance as close as wax. Little
did any he in Barkington guoMs the doubts and
fean, the bope and rfespondoncics, which agi-
tated and tore the heart and brain that schomody
and throbbed, and glowed, and sickened by turns,
Umeath that steady modulated exterior. And
so for months and months he secretly battled
with insolvency ; sometimes it threatened in the
distance, sometimes at hand, but never caught
him unawares; he provided for each coming
danger, he encountered each immediate attack.
But not unscathed in morals. Just as matters
looked brighter came a concentration of liubili-
ti(^s he could not meet without emjtfying his
tills, and so incurring the most frightful danger
of all. He had provided for its coming, too;
but a decline, greater than he had reckoned on,
in the value of his good securities, made that
provision inadequate. Then it was he commit-
ted a faux pas. He was one of his own chil-
dren's trustees, and the other two signed after
him like machines. He said to himself: **My
honor is my children's; my position is wortii
thousands to them, I have sa!rificed a fortune
to preserve it: it would be madness to recoil
now."
He borrowed three thousand pounds of the
trust money, and, soon after, two thousand
more: it koi)t him above water; but the peril,
and the escaiHj on such terms, loft him gasping
inwardly.
At last, when oven his granite nature was al-
most worn down with labor, anxiety, and strug-
gling all alone without a word of comfort for
the price of one grain of sympathy would have
been " Destruction" he shufiled olif his iron bur-
d(m, and breathed again.
One day he spent in a sort of pleasing leth-
argy, like a strong swimmer who, long and sore
bufl'eted by the waves, has reached the shore at
last.
The next day his cashier, a sharp-visaged,
bald-headed old man called Young Skinner, in-
vited his attention rather significantly to the
high amount of certain balances compared with
the cash at his (Skinner's) disposal.
"Indeed!" said Hardie, quietly; "that must
1)0 regulated." He added, graciously, as if con-
ferring a great favor, "I'll look into the books
myself, Skinner."
Ho did more; he sat up all night over the
books ; and his heart died within him. Bank-
ruptcy seemed coming toward him, slow per-
haps, but sure. And meantime to live with the
sword hanging over him by a hair I
Soon matters approached a crisis; several
large drafts were drawn, which would have
cleaned the bank out, but that the yearly rents
of a wealthy nobleman had for some days past
been flowing in.
This nobleman had gone to explore Syria and
Assyria. He was a great traveler, who con-
trived to live up to his income at home, but had
never been able to spend a quarter of it abroad,
for want of enemies and masU^rs better known
OS friends and servants to help him. So Har-
die was safe for some months, unless there should
bo an extraordinary run on him, and that was
not likely this year; the panic had subsided,
and, nota bene, his credit had never stood high-
er. The reason was, he had been double-faced ;
had always s|K)kon against Railways: and his
wio wordft Yiw^i \\\\JWii, 'wXvw^^a Nk3^ ^^viit ^:.Nk
had bocTV done \tv t\vi i\tV.
And xioNv etimo . ^i\vtiTv?5^, . \a^Jw vs^^^^
70
VERY HARD CASH.
over this tossed mind ; hope and patience failed
at last, and his virtue, being a thing of habit and
traditions, rather than of the soul, wore out;
nay, more, this man who had sacrificed so nobly
to commercial integrity, filled with hate of his
idol and contempt of himself. "Idiot!'* said
he, "to throw away a fortune fighting for honor
^a greater bubble than that which has ruined
me instead of breaking like a man, with a
hidden purse, and starting fair again, as sensible
traders do.'*
No honest man in the country that year re-
pented of his vices so sincerely as Richard Har-
die loathed his virtue. And he did not confine
his penitence to sentiment ; he began to spend
his days at the bank poring over the books, and
to lay out his arithmetical genius in a subtle
process, that should enable him by degrees to
withdraw a few thousands from human eyes for
his future use, despite the feeble safeguards of
the existing law. In other words, Richard Har-
die, like thousands before him, was fabricating
and maturing a false balance-sheet.
One man in his time plays many animals.
Hardie, at this period, turned mole. He bur-
rowed darkling into 8bs alienum. There is oft-
en one of these sleek miners in a Bank : it is
a section of human zoology the journals have
lately enlarged on, and drawn the painstaking
creature grubbing and mining away to brief
opulence ; and briefer penal servitude than one
could wish. I rely on my reader having read
these really able sketches of my contempora-
ries ; and spare him minute details, that possess
scarcely a new feature, except one : in that Bank
was not only a mole, but a mole-catcher: and,
contrary to custom, the mole was the master,
the mole-catcher the servant. The latter had
no hostile views; far from it: he was rather
attached to his master: but his attention was
roused by the youngest clerk, a boy of sixteen,
being so often sent for into the Bank parlor, to
copy into the books some arithmetical result,
without its process. Attention soon became sus-
picion ; and suspicion found many little things
to feed on, till it grew to certainty. But the
outer world was none the wiser : the mole-catch-
er was no chatter-box ; he was a solitary man :
no wife nor mistress about him ; and he revered
the mole, and liked him better than any thing
in the world except money.
Thus the great Banker stood, a colossus of
wealth and stability to the eye, though ready to
crumble at a touch ; and indeed self-doomed ;
for bankruptcy was now his game.
This was a miserable man ; far more misera-
ble than his son whose happiness he had thwart-
ed : his face was furrowed and his hair thinned
by secret struggle: and of all the things that
gnawed him, like the fox, beneath his Spartan
robe, none was more bitter than to have bor-
rowed five thousand pounds of his children, and
sunk it.
His wife's father, a keen man of business,
who saw there was little affection on his side,
had settled his daughter's money on her for
life, and, in case of her death, on the children
upon coming of age. The marriage of Alfred
or Jane woald he sure to expose him ; settle-
ments would be proposed; lawyers engaged to
peer into the trust, etc. No; they must remain
single for the present, or else marry wealth.
So, when his son announced an attachment
to a young lady living in a suburban villa, it
was a terrible blow, though he took it with out-
ward calm, as usual. But if, instead of prating
about beauty, virtue, and breeding, Alfred had
told him hard cash in five figures could be set-
tled by the bride's family on the young couple,
he would have welcomed the wedding with
great external indifference, but a secret gush
of joy ; for then he could throw himself on Al-
fred's generosity, and be released from that one
corroding debt ; perhaps allowed to go on draw-
ing the interest of the remainder.
Thus, in reality, all the interests, with which
this story deals, converged in one point; the
fourteen thousand pounds. Richard Hardie's
opposition was a mere misunderstanding ; and,
if he had been told of the Cash, and to what
purpose Mrs. Dodd destined It, and then put
on board the Agra in the Straits of Caspar, he
would have calmly taken off^ his coat, and help-
ed defend the bearer of It against all assailants
as stoutly, and, to all appearance, imperturba-
bly, as he had fought that other bitter battle at
home. For there was something heroic in this
erring man ; though his rectitude depended on
circumstances.
CHAPTER XIII.
The way the pirate dropped the mask, show-
ed his black teeth, and bore up in chase, was
terrible : so dilates and bounds ^e sudden tiger
on his unwary prey. There were stout hearts
among the officers of the peaceable Agra; but
danger in a new form shakes the brave; and
this was their first pirate : their dismay broke
out in ejaculations not loud but deep, " Hush 1"
said Dodd, doggedly ; " the lady !"
Mrs. Beresford had just come on deck to en-
joy the balmy morning.
"Sharpe," said Dodd, in a tone that con-
veyed no suspicion to the new-comer, "set the
royals, and flying jib. Port !"
" Port it is," cried the man at the helm.
" Steer due South !" And, with these words
in his mouth, Dodd dived to the gun-deck.
By this time elastic Sharpe had recovered the
first shock ; and the order to crowd sail on the
ship galled his pride and his manhood ; he mut-
tered, indignantly, " The white feather ! " This
eased his mind, and he obeyed orders briskly
as ever. While he and his hands were setting
every rag the ship could carry on that tack, the
other officers, having unluckily no orders to exe-
cute, stood gloomy and helpless, with their eyes
glued, by a sort of sombre fascination, on that
coming fate: and they literally jumped and
jarred, when Mrs. Beresford, her heart opened
by the lively day, broke in on their nerves with
her light treble.
"What a sweet morning, gentlemen. After
all a voyage is a delightful thing : oh, what a
splendid sea! and the very breeze is warm.
Ah, and there's a little ship sailing along : here,
Freddy, Freddy darling, leave off' beating the
sailors' legs, and come here and see this pretty
ship. What a pity it is so far off. Ah I ahl
what is that dreadful noife?"
FoT \ieT \iom\Ae small talk, that grated on
VERY HARD CASH.
71
infantine fiend, was cut short by ponderous
blows and tremendous smashing below. It was
the captain staving in water-casks: the water
poured out at the scuppers.
"Clearing the lee guns," said a middy, off
his guard.
Colonel Kenealy pricked up his ears, drew
his cigar from his mouth, and smelt powder.
" What, for action ?** said he, briskly. " Where's
the enemy ?"
Fullalove made him a signal, and they went
below.
Mrs. Beresford had not heard, or not appre-
ciated the remark : she prattled on till she made
the mates and midshipmen shudder.
Realize the situation, and the strange incon-
gruity between the senses and the mind in these
poor fellows ! The day had ripened its beauty ;
beneath a purple heaven shone, sparkled, and
laughed, a blue sea, in whose waves the tropical
sun seemed to have fused his beams ; and be-
neath that fair, sinless, peaceful sky, wafted by
a balmy breeze over those smiling, transparent,
golden waves, a blood-thirsty Pirate bore down
on them with a crew of human tigers; and a
lady babble babble babble babble babble babble
bamled in their quivering ears.
But now the captain came bustling on deck,
eyed the loftier sails, saw they were drawing
well, appointed four midshipmen a staff to con-
vey his orders ; gave Bayliss charge of the car-
ronades. Grey of the cutlasses, and directed Mr.
Hckell to break the bad news gently to Mrs.
Beresford, and to take her below to the orlop
deck ; ordered the purser to serve out beef, bis-
cuit, and grog to all handsj saying, " Men can't
work on an empty stomach : and fighting is hard
work ;'* then beckoned the officers to come round
him. "Gentlemen," said he, confidentially,
"in crowding sail on this ship I had no hope
of escaping that fellow on this tack, but I was,
and am, most anxious to gain the open sea,
where I can square my yards and run for it, if I
see a chance. At present I shall carry on till
he comes up within range: and then, to keep
the Company's canvas from being shot to rags,
I shall shorten sail ; and to save ship and cargo
and all our lives, I shall fight while a plank of
her swims. Better be killed in hot blood than
walk the plank in cold."
The officers cheered faintly; the captain's
dogged resolution stirred up theirs.
The pirate had gained another quarter of a
mile and more. The ship's crew were hard at
their beef and grog, and agreed among them-
selves it was a comfortable ship ; they guessed
what was coming, and woe to the ship in that
hoar if the captain had not won their respect.
Strange to say, there were two gentlemen in the
Agra to whom the pirate's approach was not al-
together unwelcome. Colonel Kenealy and Mr.
Ftdlalove were rival sportsmen ; and rival theo-
rists. Kenealy stood out for a smooth bore, and
a four-ounce ball ; Fullalove for a rifle of his
own construction. Many a doughty argument
they had, and many a bragging match ; neither
could convert the other. At last Fullalove hint-
ed that by going ashore at the Cape, and getting
each behind a tree at one hundred yards, and
popping at one another, one or other would be
eonvinced.
"Well, but," said Kenealy, "if he is dead,
ho will be no wiser ; besides to a fellow like me,
who has had the luxury of popping at his en-
emies, popping at a friend is poor insipid work."
"That is true," said the other, regretfully.
"But I reckon we shall never settle it by argu-
ment."
Theorists are amazing creatures: and it was
plain, by the alacrity with which these good
creatures loaded the rival instruments, that to
them the pirate came not so much as a pirate as
a solution. Indeed, Kenealy, in the act of charg-
ing his piece, was heard to mutter, "Now, this
is lucky." However, these theorists were no
sooner loaded, than something occurred to make
them more serious. They were sent for in haste
to Dodd's cabin ; they found him giving Sharpe
a new order.
" Shorten sail to the taupsles and jib, get the
colors ready on the halliards, and then send the
men aft !"
Sharpe ran out full of zeal, and tumbled over
Ramgolam, who was stooping remarkably near
the keyhole. Dodd hastily bolted the cabin
door, and looked with trembling lip and piteous
earnestness in Kenealy's face and Fullalove's.
They were mute with surprise at a gaze so elo-
quent yet mysterious.
He manned himself, and opened his mind to
them with deep emotion, yet not without a cer-
tain simple dignity.
"Colonel," said he, "you are an old friend;
youj Sir, are a new one ; but I esteem you high-
ly, and what my young gentlemen chaff" you
about, you calling all men brothers, and making
that poor negro love you, instead of fear you,
that shows me you have a great heart. My dear
friends, I have been unlucky enough to bring
my children's fortune on board this ship : here
it is, under my shirt. Fourteen thousand
pounds! This weighs me down. Oh, if they
should lose it after all! Do pray give me a
hand apiece, and pledge your sacred words to
take it home safe to my wife at Barkington, if
you, or either of you, should see this bright sun
set to-day, and I should not."
"Why Dodd, old fellow, "said Kenealy, cheer-
fully, "this is not the way to go into action."
"Colonel," replied Dodd, "to save this ship
and cai'go, I must be wherever the bullets are ;
and I will, too."
Fullalove more sagacious than the worthy
colonel, said earnestly: "Captain Dodd, may I
never see Broadway again, and never see Heav-
en at the end of my time, if I fail you ! There's
my hand."
"And mine," said Kenealy, warmly.
They all three joined hands, and Dodd seemed
to cling to them.
* * God bless you both ! God bless you ! Oh,
what a weight your true hands have pulled off
my heart. Good-by for a few minutes. The
time is short. I'll just offer a prayer to the Al-
mighty for wisdom, and then I'll come up ami
say a word to the men, and fight the ship ac-
cording to my lights." ^^
Sail was no sooner shortened, and the crew
ranged, than the captain came briskly on deck,
saluted, jumped onacatTo\vaAR^sA^\nR5^^\'^^5X.
He was not \.\i^ mLTL Xo ^ow NJa& q.x^ \^ 'Iss^-
bodings.
i
72
VERY HARD CASH.
(Pipe.) "Silence fore and aft."
**My men, the schooner coming up on our
weather quarter is a Portuguese pirate. His
character is known ; he scuttles all the ships he
boards, dishonors the women, and murders the
crew. We cracked on to get out of the narrows,
and now we have shortened sail to fight this
blackguard, and teach him to molest a British
ship. I promise, in the Company's name, twen-
ty pounds prize-money to every man before the
mast if we beat him off or outmanoeuvre him ;
thirty if we sink him ; and forty if we tow him
astern into a friendly port. Eight guns are
clear below, three on the weather side, five on
the lee; for, if he knows his business, he will
come up on the lee quarter ; if he doesn't, that
is no fault of yours or mine. The muskets are
all loaded, the cutlasses ground like razors *'
"Hurrah!"
" We have got women to defend "
"Hurrah!"
"A good ship under our feet, the God of jus-
tice overhead, British hearts in our bosoms, and
British colors flying run *em up ! over our
heads." (The ship's colors flew up to the fore,
and the Union Jack to the mizzen peak. ) * * Now,
lads, I mean to fight this ship while a plank of
her (stamping on the deck) swims beneath my
foot, and what do tou say ?"
The reply was a fierce "hurrah!" from a
hundred throats, so loud, so deep, so full of vol-
ume, it made the ship vibrate, and rang in the
creeping on pirate's ears. Fierce, but cunning,
he saw mischief in those shortened sails, and that
Union Jack, the terror of his tribe, rising to a
British cheer; he lowered his main-sail, and
crawled up on the weather quarter. Arrived
within a cable's length, he double-reefed his fore-
sail to reduce his rate of sailing nearly to that of
the ship ; and the next moment a tongue of flame,
and then a gush of smoke, issued from his lee
bow, and the ball flew screaming like a sea-gull
over the Agra^s mizzen-top. He then put his
helm up, and fired his other bow-chaser, and
sent the shot hissing and skipping on the water
past the ship. This prologue made the novices
wince. Bayliss wanted to reply with a carron-
ade ; but Dodd forbade him sternly, saying, "If
we keep him aloof we are done for."
The pirate drew nearer, and fired both guns in
succession, hulled the Agra amidships, and sent
an eighteen-pound ball through her foresail.
Most of the faces were pale on the quarter-deck ;
it was very trying to be shot at, and hit, and
make no return. The next double discharge
sent one shot smash through the stem cabin
window, and splintered the bulwark with anoth-
er, wounding a seaman slightly.
"Lie down forward!" shouted Dodd
through his trumpet. "Bayliss, give him a
shot."
The carronade was fired with a tremendous
report, but no visible efi*ect. The pirate crept
nearer, steering in and out like a snake to avoid
carronades, and firing those two heavy guns
mately into the devoted ship. He hulled the
a now nearly every shot.
The two available carronades replied noisily,
and Jumped, as usual ; they sent one thirty-two-
pound shot clean through the schooner's deck
and side; bat that was literally all they did
worth speaking of. ^ j
* * Curse them ! *' cried Dodd ; * * load them with
grape! they are not to be trusted with ball.
And all my eighteen - pounders dumb! The
coward won't come alongside and give them a
chance."
At the next discharge the pirate chipped the
mizzen-mast, and knocked a sailor into dead
pieces on the forecastle. Dodd put his helm
down ere the smoke cleared, and got three car-
ronades to bear, heavily laden with grape. Sev-
eral pirates fell, dead or wounded, on the crowd-
ed deck, and some holes appeared in the fore-
sail ; this one interchange was quite in favor of
the ship.
But the lesson made the enemy more cau-
tious ; he crept nearer, but steered so adroitly,
now right astern, now on the quarter, that the
ship could seldom bring more than one car-
ronade to bear, while he raked her fore and aft
with grape and ball.
In this alarming situation, Dodd kept as many
of the men below as possible; but, for all he
could do, four were killed and seven wounded.
Fullalove's word came too true: it was the
sword-fish and the whale : it was a fight of ham-
mer and anvil ; one hit, the other made a noise.
Cautious and cruel, the pirate hung on the poor
hulking creatui-e's quarters and raked her at point-
blank distance. He made her pass a bitter
time. And her captain ! To see the splinter-
ing hull, the parting shrouds, the shivered gear,
and hear the shrieks and groans of his wound-
ed ; and he unable to reply in kind ! The sweat
of agony poured down his face. Oh, if he could
but reach the open sea, and square his yards,
and make a long chase of it ; perhaps fall in
with aid. Wincing under each heavy blow, he
crept doggedly, patiently, on, toward that one
visible hope.
At last, when the ship was cloved with shot,
and peppered with grape, the channel opened:
in five minutes more he could put her dead be-
fore the wind.
No. The pirate, on whose side luck had been
from the first, got half a broadside to bear at
long musket shot, killed a midshipman by Dodd's
side, cut away two of the Agra's mizzen shrouds,
wounded the gaff: and cut the jib-stay ; down
fell that powerful sail into the water, and dragged
across the ship's forefoot, stopping her way to
the open sea she panted for ; the mates groan-
ed ; the crew cheered stoutly, as British tars do
in any great disaster; the pirates yelled with
ferocious triumph, like the devils they looked.
But most human events, even calamities, have
two sides. The Agra being brought almost to a
stand-still, the pirate forged ahead against his
will, and the combat took a new and terrible
form. The elephant-gun popped, and the rifle
cracked, in the Agra^s mizzen-top, and the man
at the pirate's helm jumped into the air and fell
dead : both Theorists claimed him. Then the
three carronades peppered him hotly; and he
hurled an iron shower back with fetal effisct.
Then at last the long 18-pounders on the gun-
deck got a word in. The old Niler was not the
man to miss a vessel alongside in a quiet sea ;
he sent two round shot clean through him ; the
third splintered his bulwark, and swept across
his deck.
" His mastsl ^re at his masts !" roared Dodd
, to Monk, t\iio\ig\i "ViVa \?c\rav^^\.\ \v^ i!tveL \git the
VERY HARD CASH.
78
Jib clear, and made what sail he could without
taking all the hands from the guns.
This kept the vessels nearly alongside a few
minutes, and the fight was hot as fire. The
pirate now for the first time hoisted his flag.
It was black as ink. His crew yelled as it rose :
the Britons, instead of quailing, cheered with
fierce derision ; the pirate's wild crew of yellow
Malays, black chinless Papuans, and bronzed
Portuguese, served their side guns, 12-pounder8,
well and with ferocious cries ; the white Britons,
drunk with battle now, naked to the waist,
grimed with powder, and spotted like leopards
with blood, their own and their mates, replied
with loud undaunted cheers, and deadly hail of
grape from the quarter-deck ; while the master-
gunner and his mates loading with a rapidity
the mixed races opposed could not rival, hulled
the schooner well between wind and water, and
then fired chain-shot at her masts, as ordered,
and began to play the mischief with her shrouds
and rigging. Meantime FuUalove and Kenealy,
aided by Vespasian, who loaded, were quietly
butchering the pirate crew two a minute, and
hoped to settle the question they were fighting
for ; smooth bore v. rifle : but unluckily neither
fired once without killing; so "there was no-
thing proven."
The pirate, bold as he was, got sick of fair
fighting first ; he hoisted his main-sail and drew
rapidly ahead, with a slight bearing to wind-
ward, and dismounted a carronade and stove in
the ship's quarter-boat, by way of a parting
kick.
The men hurled a contemptuous cheer after
him; they thought they had beaten him off.
But Dodd knew better. He was but retiring a
little way to make a more deadly attack than
ever : he would soon wear, and cross the Agrees
defenseless bows, to rake her fore and aft at pis-
tol-shot distance ; or grapple and board the en-
feebled ship two hundred strong.
Dodd flew to the helm, and with his own hands
put it hard a weather, to give the deck guns one
more chance, the last, of sinking or disabling
the Destroyer. As the ship obeyed, and a deck
gun bellowed below him, he saw a vessel run-
ning out from Long Island, and coming swiftly
up on his lee quarter.
It was a schooner. Was she coming to his aid?
Horror ! A black flag floated from her fore-
mast head.
While Dodd's eyes were staring almost out of
his head at this death-blow to hope. Monk fired
again ; and just then a pale face came close to
Dodd's, and solemn voice whispered in his ear :
* ow AWMMiiiifiMi \ neariv doni It was the flrst mate.
Dodd seized his hand convulsively, and pointed
to the pirate's consort coming up to finish them :
and said, with the calm of a brave man's despair,
"Cutlasses ! and die hard!"
At that moment the master gunner fired his
last gun. It sent a chain-shot on board the re-
tiring pirate, took off a Portuguese head and
spun it clean into the sea ever so far to wind-
ward, and cut the schooner's foremast so nearly
through that it trembled and nodded, and pres-
ently snapped with a loud crack, and came 'down
Hke a broken tree, with the yard and sail ; the
latter overlapping the deck and burying itself,
Uack flag and all, in the sea ; and there, in one
vaomeDt, lay the Destroyer huffetiug and wrig-
E
gling like a heron on the water with his long
wing broken an utter cripple.
The victorious crew raised a stunning cheer.
"Silence!" roared Dodd, with his trumpet.
"All hands make sail!"
He set his courses, bent a new jib, and stood
out to windward close-hauled, in hopes to make
a good offing, and then put his ship dead before
the wind, which was now rising to a stiff breeze.
In doing this he crossed the crippled pirate's
stem, within eighty yards; and sore was the
temptation to rake him; but his ammunition
being short, and his danger being imminent from
the other pirate, he had the self-command to
resist the great temptation. The pirates, though
in great confusion, and expecting a broadside,
trained a gun dead aft.
Dodd saw, and hailed the mizzen-top: "Can
you two hinder them from firing that gun ?"
"I rather think we can," said Fullalove, "eh,
colonel ?" and tapped his long rifle.
The ship's bows no sooner crossed the schoon-
er's stem than a Malay ran aft with a linstock.
Pop went the colonel's ready carbine, and the
Malay fell over dead, and the linstock flew out
of his hand. A tall Portuguese, with a move-
ment of rage, snatched it up, and darted to the
gun : the Yankee rifle cracked, but a moment
too late. Bang! went the pirate's gun, and
crashed into the Agra's side, and passed nearly
through her.
" Ye missed him ! Ye missed him !" cried the
rival theorist, joyfully. He was mistaken : the
smoke cleared, and there was the Pirate Captain
leaning wounded against the main-mast with a
Yankee bullet in his shoulder, and his crew ut-
tering yells of dismay and vengeance. They
jumped, and raged, and brandished their knives,
and made horrid gesticulations of revenge ; and
the white eyeballs of the Malays and Papuans
glittered fiendishly ; and the wounded captain "'*
raised his sound arm and had a signal hoisted
to his consort, and she bore up in chase, and
jamming her fore latine flat as a board, lay far
nearer the wind than the Agra could, and sailed
three feet to her two besides. On this superior-
ity being made clear, the situation of the Mer-
chant vessel, though not so utterly desperate as
before Monk fired his lucky shot, became pitia-
ble enough. If she ran before the wind, the fresh
pirate would cut her off: if she lay to windward,
she might postpone the inevitable and fatal col-
lision with a foe as strong as that she had only
escaped by a rare piece of luck ; but this would
give the crippled pirate time to refit and unite
to destroy her. Add to this the failing ammuni-
tion, and the thinned crew !
Dodd cast his eyes all round the horizon for
help.
The sea was blank.
The bright sun was hidden now ; drops of rain
fell, and the wind was beginning to sing; and
the sea to rise a little.
" Gentlemen," said he, " let us kneel down and
pray for wisdom in this sore strait."
He and his officers kneeled on the quart^
deck. When they rose, Dodd stood rapt aboV
a minute ; his great thoughtful eye saw no more
the enemy, the sea, nor any thing external ; it
was turned inward. R^a affii^^xs\wJA\ ^x\&ssi.
in sWence. ^
*'S\iarpe;' ft.\9L\v^, ^\.\a&V^^N5Ev^^^ twnsW^ ^
74
VERY HARD CASH.
way out of tbem with snch a breeze as this is
now ; if we could but see it.**
"Ay, t/J" groaned Sharpe.
f Dodd mused af^ain.
** About ship!" said he, softly, like an absent
man.
"Ay, ay, Sir.*'
** Steer due north!*' said he, still like one
whose mind was elsewhere.
While the ship was coming about, he gave
minute orders to the mates* and the gunner, to
insure co-operation in the first part of a delicate
and dangerous manoeuvre he had resolved to try.
The wind was W.N.W. : he was standing
north : one pirate lay on his lee beam stopping
a leak between wind and water, and hacking the
deck clear of his broken masts and yards. The
other fresh, and thirsting for the easy prey, came
up from the N.E., to weather on him and hang
an his quarter, pirate fashion.
When they were distant about a cable's length,
the fresh pirate, to meet the ship's change of
tactics, changed his own, put his helm up a little,
and gave the ship a broadside, well aimed but
not destructive, the guns being loaded with ball.
Dodd, instead of replying, as was expected,
took advantage o^ the smoke and put his ship
before the wind. By this unexpected stroke
the vessels engaged ran swiftly at right angles
toward one point, and the pirate saw himself
menaced with two serious perils; a collision,
which might send him to the bottom of the sea
in a minute, or a broadside delivered at pistol-
shot distance, and with no possibility of his mak-
ing a return. He must either put his helm up
or down. He chose the bolder course, put his
helm hard a lee, and stood ready to give broad-
side for broadside. But ere he could bring his
lee guns to bear, he must offer his bow for one
moment to the ship's broadside ; and in that mo-
ment, which Dodd had provided for, Monk and
his mates raked him fore and aft at short dis-
tance with all the five guns that were clear on
that side ; the carronades followed and mowed
him slantwise with grape and canister ; the al-
most simultaneous discharge of eight guns made
the ship tremble, and enveloped her in thick
smoke ; loud shrieks and groans were heard from
the schooner: the smoke cleared; the pirate's
main-sail hung on deck, his jib-boom was cut off
like a carrot and the sail struggling ; his fore-
sail looked lace, lanes of dead and wounded lay
still or writhing on his deck, and his lee scup-
pers ran blood into the sea.
The ship rushed down the wind, leaving the
schooner staggered and all abroad. But not for
long ; the pirate fired his broadside after all, at
the now flying Agroj split one of the carronades
in two, and killed a Lascar, and made a hole
in the foresail ; this done, he hoisted his main-
sail again in a trice, sent his wounded below,
flung his dead overboard, to the horror of their
foes, and came after the flying ship, yawing and
firing his bow-chasers. The ship was silent.
She had no shot to throw away. Not only did
take these blows likie a coward, but all signs
ife disappeared on her, except two men at the
wheel, and the captain on the main gangway.
Dodd had ordered the crow out of the rig-
/rri3^, anned tbem with cntlasses, and laid them
^st on the forecastle. He abo compelled Ke-
o^^jrandFallalove to come down out of harm's
way, no wiser on the smooth bore qneetion than
they went up.
The great patient ship ran environed by her
foes ; one destroyer right in her course, another
in her wake, following her with yells of venge-
ance, and pounding away at her but no reply.
Suddenly the yells of the pirates on both sides
ceased, and there was a moment of dead silence
on the sea.
Yet nothing fresh had happened. *
Yes, this had happened : the pirates to wind-
ward, and the pirates to leeward, of the Agra^
had found out, at one and the same moment,
that the merchant captain they had lashed, and
bullied, and tortured, was a patient but tremen-
dous man. It was not only to rake the fresh
schooner he had put his ship before the wind,
but also by a double, daring, master-stroke to
hurl his monster ship bodily on the otheiL
Without a foresail she could never get out of
his way. Her crew had stopped the leak, and
cut away and unshipped the broken foremast,
and were stepping a new one, when they saw
the huge ship bearing down in full sail. No- '
thing easier than to slip out of her way could
they get the foresail to draw ; but the time was
short, the deadly intention manifest, the coming
destruction swift.
After that solemn silence came a storm of
cries and curses, as their seamen went to work
to fit the yard and raise the sail; while their
fighting men seized their matchlocks and train-
ed the guns. They were well commanded by a
heroic able villain. Astern the consort thun-
dered ; but the Agrds response was a dead si-
lence more awful than broadsides.
For then was seen with what majesty the en-
during Anglo-Saxon fights.
One of that indomitable race on the gangway,
one at the foremast, two at the wheel, conned
and steered the great ship down on a hundred
matchlocks and a grinning broadside, just as
they would have conned and steered her into a
British harbor.
'* Starboard!*' said Dodd, in a deep calm
voice, with a motion of his hand.
**Starboarditis.*'
The pirate wriggled ahead a little. The man
forward made a silent signal to Dodd.
"Port!" said Dodd, quietly.
"Port it is."
But at this critical moment the pirate astern
sent a mischievous shot and knockcii one of the
men to atoms at the helm.
Dodd waved his hand without a word, and
another man rose from the deck and took his
place in silence, and laid his unshaking hand on
the wheel stained with that man*s warm blood
whose place he took.
The high ship was now scarce sixty yards
distant; she seemed to know: she reared her
lofty figure-head with great awful shoots into
the air.
But now the panting pirates got their new
foresail hoisted with a joyful shout: it drew,
the schooner gathered way, and their furious
consort close on the Agra's heels just then
scourged her deck with grape.
"Port!" said Dodd, cahnly.
"Port it is."
The giant prow darted at the escaping pirate.
That acre of comixv^ ca.\ivas \xiV tha wind out
VERY HARD CASH.
76
of the swift schooner's foresail ; it flapped : oh,
then she was doomed! That awful moment
parted the races on board her; the Papuans
and Sooloos, their black faces livid and blue
with horror, leaped yelling into the sea, or
crouched and whimpered; the yellow Malays
and brown Portuguese, though blanched to one
color now, turned on death like dying panthers,
fired two cannon slap into the ship^s bows, and
snapped their muskets and matchlocks at their
solitary executioner on the ship's gangway, and
out flew their knives like crushed wasp's stings.
Crash ! the Indiaman*s cut-water in thick smoke
beat in the schooner's broadside : down went her
masts to leeward, like fishing-rods whipping the
water ; there was a horrible shrieking yell ; wild
forms leaped off on the Agra and were hacked to
pieces almost ere they reached the deck a
surge, a^ chasm in the sea, filled with an instant
rush of ingulfing waves, a long, awful, grating,
grinding noise, never to be forgotten in this
world, sJl along under the ship's keel and the
fearful majestic monster passed on over the
blank she had made, with a pale crew standing
dlent and awe-struck on her deck ; a cluster of
wild heads and staring eyeballs bobbing like
corks in her foaming wake, sole relic of the
blotted-out destroyer ; and a wounded man stag-
gering on the gangway, with hands uplifted and
staring eyes. *
Shot in two places ^the head and the breast I
With a loud cry of pity and dismay, Sharpe,
FuUalove, Kenealy, and others rushed to catch
him ; but, ere they got near, the captain of the
triumphant ship fell down on his hands and
knees, his head sunk over the gangway, and his
blood ran fast and pattered in the midst of them,
on the deck he had defended so bravely.
CHAPTER XIV.
In the narrative of home events I skipped a
little business, not quite colorless, but irrelevant
to the love-passages then on hand. It has, how-
ever, a connection with the curious events now
converging to a point : so, with the reader's per-
mission, I will place it in logical sequence, dis-
regarding the order of time. The day Dr.
Sampson splashed among the ducks, and one of
them hid till dinner, the rest were seated at
luncheon, when two patients were announced as
waiting Mr. and Mrs. Maxley. Sampson re-
fused to see them, on this ground: *^I will not
feed and heal." But Mrs. Dodd interceded, and
he yielded. ** Well, then, show them in here ;
they are better cracters than pashints." On
this, a stout fresh-colored woman, the picture of
health, was ushered in, and courtesied all round.
" Well, what is the matter now ?" inquired
Sampson, rather roughly.
"Be seated, Mrs. Maxley," said Mrs. Dodd,
benignly.
"I thank ye kindly, ma'am;" and she sat
down. ** Doctor, it is that pain."
"Well, don't say *that pain.' Describe it.
Now listen, all of ye ; ye're goen to get a clinical
lecture. "
^^Myou please, ma'am," said the patient, "it
tikes me here nnder my left breest, and runs
lAgbt to my elbow, it do: and bitter bad 'tis
while it do last ; chokes me, mostly ; and I feel
as I must die : and if I was to move hand or fut,
I think I should die, that I do." #
"Poor woman," said Mrs. Dodd.
"Oh, she isn't dead yet,"cried Sampson, cheer-
fully. "She'll sell addled eggs over all our
tombstones : that is to say, if she minds what I
bid her. When was your last spasm ?"
"No longer agone than yestereen, ma'am;
and so I said to my master, * The doctor he is
due to-morrow Sally up at Albion tells me;
and * "
" Whisht ! whisht ! who cares what you said
to Jack, and Jill said to you ? What was the
cause?" '
* * The cause ! What, of my pain ? He says,
'what was the cause ?' "
"Ay, the cause. Just obsi^rve, jintlemen,"
said Sampson, addressing imaginary students,
" how startled they all are if a docker deviates
from profissional habits into sceincc, and takes
the right cend of the stick for once b' asking for
the cause."
"The cause was the will of God, I do sup-
pose," said Mrs. Maxley.
* * Stuff' ! " shouted Sampson, angrily. " Then*
why come to mortal me to cure you ?"
Alfred put in his oar. "He does not mean
the 'final cause;' he means the 'proximate
cause.' "
" My poor dear creature, I baint no Latiner,"
objected the patient.
Sampson fixed his eyes sternly on the slippery
dame. "What I want to know is, had you
been running up stairs? or eating fast? or
drinking fast? or grizzling over twopence? or
quarreling with your husband? Come now,
which was it?"
"Me quarrel with my man! We hayen't
never been disagreeable, not once, since we went
to church a pair and came back a couple. I
don't say but what we mayn't have had a word
or two at odd times, as married folk will."
" And the last time you had a word or two
y' infairnal quibbler was it just before your last
spasm, eh ?"
"Well, it might; I am not gainsaying that:
but you said quarrel, says you; 'quarrel' it
were your word ; and I defy all Barkton, gentle
and simple, to say as how me and my master "
"Whisht! whisht! Now, jintlemen, ye see
what the great coming sceince the sceince of
Healing has to contind with. The dox are all
fools ; but one : and the pashints are lyres, ivery
man Jack. N' listen me ; y' have got a disease
that you can't eradicate ; but you may muzzle it
for years, and die of something quite diff*erent
when your time's up."
"Like enough. Sir. If you please, ma'am.
Dr. Stephenson do blame my indigestion for it."
"Dr. Stephenson's an ass."
"Dear heart, how cantankerous you be. To
be sure Dr. Osmond he says no: it's muscular,
says he."
"Dr. Osmond's an ijjit! List me! You
mustn't grizzle about money ; you mustn't golv
ble, nor drink your beer too fast."
"You are wrong, doctor; I never drink no
beer : it costs."
' ' YouT cat\ap, xlaeti. KxA, ^^-^^ ^..^^a ^a-
zling \ Go to e\vTac\i^\iewwt l^^s^ "^^"^C^^^
losing a fattbia^. IxJ^ xaa^vim^N iQ'XNR.^^
76
VERY HARD CASH.
brain, and takes it off worldly cares. And have
no words with your husband: or he'll outlive
^cu; it's his only chance of getting the last
word. Care killed a cat, a nanimal with eight
lives more than a chatter-box. If you worry or
excite your brain, little Maxley, you will cook
your own goose by a quick fire."
"Dear heart, these be unked sayings. Won't
ye give me nothing to make me better, Sir?"
. **No; I never tinker; I go to the root: you
may buy a vile of chlorofm, and take a puff if ye
feel premonory symps : but a quite brain is your
only real chance. Now slope ! and send the male
screw."
"Anan?"
"Your husband."
"That I will. Sir. Your sarvant, doctor;
your sarvant, naa'am ; sarvant all the company."
Mrs. Dodd hoped the poor woman had nothing
very serious the matter.
"Oh, it is a mortal disease," cried Sampson,
as cool as a cucumber. "She has got angina
pictoris, or brist-pang, a disorder that admira-
bly eximplifies the pretinsions of midicine t' a
sceince." And with this he dashed into mono-
logue, as per margin.*
Maxley's tall gaunt form came slouching in,
and traversed the floor, pounding it with heavy
nailed boots. He seated himself gravely at Mrs.
Dodd's invitation, took a handkerchief out of his
hat, wiped his face, and surveyed the company,
grand and calm. In James Maxley all was pon-
derous ; his head was huge ; his mouth, when it
fairly opened, revealed a chasm, and thence is-
sued a voice naturally stentorian by its volume
and native vigor. But when the owner of this
incarnate bassoon had a mind to say something
sagacious, he sank at once from his habitual roar
to a sound scarce above a whisper ; a contrast
mighty comical to hear, though on paper nil..
"Well, what is it, Maxley? Rheumatism
again ?"
* ' No, that it ain't, " bellowed Maxley, defiantly.
* ' What then ? Come, look sharp. "
* Sampson (solo). It is the Steraalgia of Baumes, the
Diaphragmatic Gout of Darwin, the Asthma Arthriticum
of Schmidt, the Syncope Anginosa of Parry, the Cardiog-
mus cordis sinistri of Sauvagea, the Sternocardia of Brera,
the Sternodynia Syncopalia of Sluis, and the Fnigophobia
of some other sesquipedal dr^uner whose name, thank
Hiyin, I forget.
Not& bene : not one of these Ansero Grseculi ever cured
a case of Brist-pang. But that is secondary. Scholastic
midicine is the sceince of baptizing, and rebaptizing, dis-
eases ; and of not curing *em.
Defeat a school-boy; and he calls you names. Just so,
when a Disease defeats the Dox, they fling a lot o' big
names at it, and bray in five syllables over their conquer-
or, and fancy they are crowing. Emeticum; Oatharti-
cum ; et omne quod exit in um, proeter remedium.
I differ from them in both respex ; I call this Disease
Brist-pang: and I cure it. So choose between th* ijjio-
matic Do^er and th* jyjiotic ones f And how do I cur^*t ?
Why by goen to its cause. Brist-pang is a rigorous spasm
caused by excitement of the brain acting in various ways,
all curable through the brain, and the brain alone. Now
sift all those Goose Greek definitions I Is the brain hint-
ed at? Glimmers there one ray of Causation amid all
that shallow and partial observation of mere Rymptoms.
In ivery department of thought there are ninety-nine lit-
tle thinkera to one big one: and the few big ones, differ-
ing from each other in many things, all agree in tone ;
they are Causationiste. They call effex effex, and look
deeper for the cause, and are untasy till they find it.
Theae think: the ninety-nine only think they think:
ewallow effex for causes; and, as in Disease effex are nu-
^^"f- ^"^ causes very few, as few as Thinkers, Scholaa-
^t a'sinSer'S^edT^ ^""^^^ '^^ ^""^ Brist-pang, and
"Well, then, doctor, ni tell you. Tm sore
troubled with a mouse."
This malady, announced in the tone of a proc-
lamation, and coming after so much solemn
preparation, amused the party considerably, al-
though parturient mountains had ere then pro-
duced muscipular abortions.
"A mouse !" inquired Sampson, disdainfully.
* * Where ? up your sleeve ? Don't come to me :
go t* a sawbones and have your arm cut off. I've
seen 'em mutilate a pashint for as little."
Maxley said it was not up his sleeve, worsfe luck.
On this, Alfred hazarded a conjecture. Might
it not have gone down his throat? **Took his
potato-trap for the pantry-door. Hal ha!"
"Ay, I hear ye, young man, a laughing at
your own sport," said Maxley, winking his eye ;
"but 'tain't the biggest mouth as catches the
most : you sits yander fit to bust : but" (with a
roar like a lion) "ye never offers me none on%
neither sup nor bit."
At this sudden turn of Mr. Maxley's wit, light
and playful as a tap of the old English quarter-
stafl^, they were a little staggered, all but Ed-
ward, who laughed and supplied him zealously
with sandwiches.
"You're a gentleman, you are," said Maxley,
looking full at Sampson and Alfred to point the
contradistinction.
Having thus disposed of his satirists, he con-
templated the sandwiches with an inquiring and
philosophic eye. * * Well, " said he, after long and
thoughtful inspection, "you gentlefolks won't die
of hard work ; your sarvants must cut the very
meat to fit your mouths." And not to fall be-
hind the gentry in a great and useful department
of intelligence, he made precisely one mouthful
of each sandwich.
Mrs. Dodd was secretly amazed, and taking
care not to be noticed by Maxley, said, confi-
dentially, " Monsieur avait bien raison; le souris
a pass^ par la."
The plate cleared, and washed down with a
tumbler of port, Maxley resumed, and informed
the doctor that the mouse was at this moment in
his garden eating his bulbs. " And I be come
here to put an end to her, if I've any luck at
all."
Sampson told him he needn't trouble. " Na-
ture has put an end to her as long as her body."
Mr. Maxley was puzzled for a moment ; then
opened his mouth from ear to ear, in a gufiaw
that made the glasses ring. His humor was per-
verse: he was wit-proof and fun-proof; but at
a feeble jest would sometimes roar like a. lion in-
flated with laughing gas. Laughed he ever so
loud and long, he always ended abruptly and
without gradation ; his laugh was a clean spade-
ful dug out of Merriment. He resumed his grav-
ity and his theme all in an instant : "White ar-
senic she won't look at, for I've tried her; but
they tell me there's another sweetmeat come up;
which they call it strick-nine."
"Hets! let the poor beasty alone. Life's as
sweet tit as tus."
"If you was a gardener, you'd feel for the
bulbs, not for the varmin," remonstrated Max-
ley, rather arrogantly.
"But bein' a man of sceince, I feel for th'
higher organization. Mice are a part of Nature ;
as mucYi as luaTket-^aidGTv^TO,"
*' So be stoats , ooA. ^l^Slcts*, wA ^c^^twii.''
VEST HARD CASH,
77
Sampson appealed: ** Jintlemen, here's a pret-
ty pashint: reflects on our lairned profission,
aod it never co6t him a guinea; for the dog
never pays."
** Don't let my chaff choke ye, doctor ! That
wam't meant for you altogether. So if ye havt
got a little bit of that ere about you ^**
**rm not a rat-catcher, my man: I don*t
go with dith in my pocket, like the surgeons
that carry a lancet. And If I had Murder in
both pockets, you shouldn't get any. Here's a
greedy dog ! got a thousand pounds in the bank ;
and grudges his Healer a guinea, and his mousa
a stand-up bite."
"Now, who have been a telling you lies?"
inquired Maxley, severely. "My missus, for a
farthing. I'm not a thousand-pound man ; I'm
a nine hundred-pound man : and it's all safe at
Hardie's:" here he went from his roar to his
whisper, "I don't hold with Lunnon banks ; they
be like my missus's eggs : all one outside, and
the rotten ones only known by breaking. Well
(loud) I he pretty close, I don't deny it ; but
(confidentially) my missus beats me. I look
twice at a penny ; but she looks twice at both
sides of a halfpenny before she will let him go :
and it's her being so close have raised all this
here bobbery ; and so I told her ; says I, * Mis-
sus. ^If you would but leave an end of a dip, or
a paring of cheese, about your cupboard, she
would bide at home ; but you hungers her so,
you drives her afield right on atop o' my roots.'
*0h,' says my missus, * if /was to be as waste-
ful as you be, where should we be, some Christ-
inas-day? Every tub on its own bottom,' says
she; 'man and wife did ought to keep their-
selves to theirselves, she to the house, and I to
the garden ;' * so be it,' says I, * and by the same
toaken, don't let me catch them "Ns" in my
garden again, or I'll spoil their clucking and
scratching,' says I, *for I'll twist their dalled
necks : ye've got a yard,' says I, * and a roost,
and likewise a turnpike, you and vour poultry :
so bide at home the lot; and don't come a
scratching o* me !' and with that we had a rip-
put ; and she took one of her pangs ; and then I
behooved to knock under ; and that is alius the
way if ye quarrel with women folk; they are
sworn to get the be'tter of ye by hook or by
crook, now dooee give me a bit of that ere, to
quiet this here, as eats me up by the roots and
sets my missus and me by the ears."
** Justum ac tenacem propositi virum," whis-
pered Alfred to Edward.
Sf mpson told him angrily to go to a certain
great personage.
"Not afore my betters," whispered Mr. Max-
ley, smit with a sudden respect for etiquette.
"Won't ye now?"
"I'll see je hanged first, ye miserly old as-
sassin."
"Then I have nothing to thank yoti for,"
roared Maxley, and made his adieux, ignoring
with marked contempt the false physician who
declined to doctor the foe of his domestic peace
and crocuses.
" Quite a passage of arms," said Edward.
**Yes," said Mrs. Dodd, "and of bludgeons
and things, rather than the polished rapier.
What expressions to fall from two highly edu-
cated gentlemen ! Slope Potato trap Saw-
bones Catlap^ B* en Anirais pas."
She then let them know that she meditated a
"dictionary of jargon;" in hopes that its bulk
might strike terror into honest citizens, and ex- '
cite an antijargon league to save the English^
language, now on the verge of dissolution.
Sampson was pleased with this threat. * * Now,
that is odd," said he. "Why I am compilin a
vocablary myself. I call't th* ass-ass-ins' dick-
shinary; showing how, by the use of mealy-
mouthed an d'exotic phrases, knaves can lead
fools by th' ear t' a vilent dith. Fr' instance ; if
one was to say to John Bull, * Now I'll cut a
great gash in your arm and let your blood run
till ye drop down senseless,' he'd take fright, and
say, *Call another timel' So the profissional
ass-ass-in words it thus ; * I'll bleed you from a
large orifice till th' occurrence of syncope.' All
right, sis John : he's bled from a lar j'orifice and
dies three days after of th' assassin's knife hid in
a sheath o' goose grease. But I'll blow the gaff
with my dickshinary."
"Meantime there is another contribution to-
mine," said Mrs. Dodd.
And they agreed in the gayety of their hearts
to compare their rival Lexicons.
CHAPTER XV.
They got to the wounded captain, and raised
him : he revived a little : and, the moment he
caught sight of Mr. Sharpe, he clutched him, and
cried, " Stunsels !"
" Oh, captain," said Sharpe, "let the ship go,
it is you we are anxious for now."
At this Dodd lifted up his hands and beat the
air impatiently, and cried again in the thin,
querulous, voice of a wounded man, but eagerly,
"Stunsels! stunsels!"
On this, Sharpe gave the command. "Set
to-gallant stunsels I All hands set stunsels 'low
and aloft!"
While the unwounded hands swarmed into
the rigging, the surgeon came aft in all haste ;
but Dodd declined him till all his men should
have been looked to : meantime he had himself
carried to the poop and laid on a mattress, his
bleeding head bound tight with a wet cambric
handkerchief, and his pale face turned toward
the hostile schooner astern. She had hove to,
and was picking up the survivors of her blotted^
out consort. The group on the Agrees quarter-
deck watched her to see what she would do next ;
flushed with immediate success, the younger offi-
cers crowed their fears she would not be game t^
attack them again ; Dodd's fears ran the other
way : he said, in the weak voice to which he was
now reduced, "they are taking a wet blanket
aboard ; that crew of blackguards we swamped
won't want any more of us : it all depends on
the pirate captain ; if he is not drowned, then
blow wind, rise sea: or there's trouble ahead
for us."
As soon as the schooner had picked up the last
swimmer, she hoisted foresail, main-sail, and jib,
with admirable rapidity, and bore down in chase.
The Agra had, meantime, got a start of more
than a mile, and was now running before a stiff
breeze with studdm^-ai\% iss^ cA^ ^^1\..
In an\ionT t\vft \^?,?;^"i Ta xsasccS.^ ^N^^w^\sas^
and the pVi&^ \iA ^ataa^'WiS. ^teS^^-
78
VERY HARD CASH.
At the end of the next hour they were out of
sight of land; wind and sea rising; and the
pirate only a quarter of a mile astern.
The schooner was now rising and falling on
the waves ; the ship only nodding, and firm as a
rock.
**Blow wind, rise sea!" faltered Dodd.
Another half hour passed without perceptibly
altering the position of the vessels. Then, sud-
denly the wounded captain laid aside his glass,
after a long examination, and rose unaided to
his feet in great excitement, and found his man-
ly voice for a moment : he shook his fist at the
now pitching schooner, and roared, **Good-by!
ye Portugeese lubber: outfought outmanoeu-
vred ^AND outsailed!"
It was a burst of exultation rare for him ; he
paid for it by sinking faint and helpless into his
friend's arms : and the surgeon, returning soon
after, insisted on his being taken to his cabin,
and kept quite quiet.
As they were carrying him below the pirate
captain made the same discovery ; that the ship
was gaining on him : he bore up directly, and
abandoned the chase.
When the now receding pirate was nearly
hull down, the sun began to set ; Mr. Tickell
looked at him, and said, ** Hallo! old fellow,
what are you about ? Why it isn't two o'clock !"
The remark was quite honest : he really feared,
for a moment, that orb was mistaken and would
get himself and others into trouble. How-
ever, the middy proved to be wrong, and the
sun right to a minute : Time flies fast, fighting.
Mrs. Beresford came on deck with brat and
poodle: Fred, a destructive child, clapped his
hands with glee at the holes in the canvas : Snap
toddled about smelling the blood of the slain, and
wagging his tail by halves ; perplexed. ** Well,
gentlemen," said Mrs. Beresford, **I hope you
have made noise enough over one's head : and
what a time you did take to beat that little bit
of a thing : Freddy, be quiet ; you worry me ;
where is your bearer ? will any body oblige me
by finding Ramgolam ?"
**I will," said Mr. Tickell, hastily, and ran
ofl^ for the purpose ; but he returned after some
time with a long face. No Ramgolam to be
found.
Fullalove referred her with humor-twinkling
eye to Vespasian. * * I have a friend here who
says he can tell you something about him."
** Can you, my good man ?" inquired the lady,
turning haughtily toward the negro. .
**Iss, Missy," said Vespasian, showing his
white teeth in a broad grin, 'Mis child knows
where to find dat ar niggar, widout him been
and absquatulated since."
"Thep go and fetch him directly."
Vespasian went ofi^ with an obedient start.
This annoyed J^ullalove ; interfered with his
system: "Madam," said he, gravely, "would
you oblige me by bestowing on my friend a por-
tion of that courtesy with vihich you favor me,
and which becomes you so gracefully ?"
* * Certainly not ;" replied Mrs. Beresford. * *Mr.
Fullalove, I am out of patience with you : the
'.Idea of a sensible intelligent gentleman, like you,
calling that creature jour friend ! and you an
^Amqricin / where they do nothing but whip them
m?in zDorniDg tiU night. Who ever heard of
making friends with a black? Now what is the
meaning of this ? I detest practical jokes." For
the stalwart negro had returned, bringing a tall
bread bag in his arms : he now set it up before
her, remarking, "Dis yar bag white outside, but
him nation black inside." To confirm his words,
he drew off the bag, and revealed Ramgolam,
his black skin powdered with meal. The good-
natured negro then blew the flour oflf his face,
and dusted him a bit : the spectators laughed
heartily, but Ramgolam never moved a muscle :
not a morsel discomposed at what would have
made a European miserably ashamed, even in
a pantomime, the Caucasian darkey retained all
his dignity, while the African one dusted him ;
but, being dusted, he put on his obsequiousness,
stepped forward, joined his palms together to
Mrs. Beresford like medieval knights and mod-
em children at their devotions and addressed
her thus :
"Daughter of light, he who basks in your
beams, said to himself, 'The pirates are upon
us, those children of blood, whom Sheitan their
master, blast for ever! They will ravish the
Queen of Sunshine and the ayahs, and throw the
sahibs and sailors into the sea ; but, bread being
the staff of existence, these foxes of the water
will not harm it, but keep it for their lawless
appetites; therefore Ramgolam, Sonof Chittroo,
Son of Soonarayan, will put the finger of silence
on the lip of discretion, and be bread in the day
of adversity : the sons of Sheitan will peradven-
ture return to dry land, and close the eye of
watchfulness ; then will I emerge like the sun
from a cloud ; and depart in peace.' "
"Oh, very well;" said Mrs. Beresford, "then
you are an abominable egotist, that is all : and a
coward r and thank Heaven Freddy and I were
defended by English : and Americans, and
hem! their friends; and not by Hindoos."
She added, charmingly, " This shows me my first
words on coming here ought to have been to
offer my warmest thanks to the brave men who
have defended me and my child:" and swept
them so queenly a courtesy, that the men's hats
and caps flew off in an instant. "Mr. Black,"
said she, turning with a voice of honey to Ves-
pasian, but aiming obliquely at FuUalove's heart,
" would you oblige me by kicking that dog a lit-
tle} he is always smelling what does not belong
to him; why it is blood; oh!" and she turned
pale in a moment.
Sharpe thought some excuse necessary. * * You
see, ma'am, we haven't had time to clean the
decks since."
"It is the blood of men ; of the poor fellows
who have defended us so nobly!" faltered the
lady, trembling visibly.
"Well, ma'am," said Sharpe, still half apolo-
getically, "you know a ship can't fight all day
long without an accident or two." He added
with nautical simplicity, and love of cleanliness,
"However, the deck will be cleaned, and holy-
stoned, to-morrow, long before you turn out."
Mrs. Beresford was too much overcome to ex-
plain how much deeper her emotion was than a
dblike to stained floors. She turned faint, and
on getting the better of that, went down to her
cabin crying. Thence issued a royal order that
the wounded were to h^e wine and every luxury
they could fancy, without limit or stint ; at her
expense.
VERY HARD CASH
79
The next day a deep gloom reigned in the
ship; the crew were ranged in their Sunday-
clothes, and hare-headed ; a grating was rigged ;
Sharpe read the burial-service; and the dead,
each man sewed up in his hammock with a 32-
pound shot, glided off the grating into the sea
with a sullen plunge ; wnile their shipmates cried
so, that the tears dripped on the deck.
With these regrets for the slain, too violent
to last, were mingled a gloomy fear that Death
had a heavier blow in store. The surgeon's re-
port of Captain Dodd was most alarming; he
had become delirious about midnight; and so
continued.
Sharpe commanded the ship ; and the rough
sailors stepped like cats over that part of the
deck, beneath which their unconscious captain
lay. If two men met on the quarter-deck, a
look of anxious, but not hopeful, inquiry, was
sure to pass between them.
Among the constant inquirers was Ramgolam.
The grave Hindoo often waylaid the surgeon at
the captain*s door, to get the first intelligence.
This marked sympathy with a hero in extremity
was hardly expected from a sage, who at the
first note of war's trumpet had vanished in a
meal-bag. However, it went down to his credit.
One person, however, took a dark view of this
innocent circumstance. But then that hostile
critic was Vespasian, a rival in matters of tint.
He exploded in one of those droll rages darkeys
seem liable to : " Massa cunnel," said he, *' what
for dat yar nigger always prowling about the
capn's door ? What for he ask so many stupid
questions? Dat ole fox arter no good; him
heart so black as um skin : dam old niggar !"
Fullalove suggested slyly that a person with
a dark skin might have a grateful heart : and
the colonel, who dealt little in innuendo, said,
"Come, don't you be so hard on jet; you eb-
ony 1"
"Bery well, gemmen," replied Vespasian,
ceremoniously, and with seeming acquiescence.
Then, with sudden ire, " Because Goramighty
make you white, you tink you bery wise without
any more trouble. Dat ar niggar am an abom-
mable egotisk."
"Pray what does that mean?" inquired Ke-
nealy, innocently.
"What him mean ? what him mean ? Yah I
yah!"
" Yes. What does it mean ?"
" What him mean ? Yah ! What,-dinn^ you
hear Missy Besford miscall him an abommable
Qgotisk?"
"Yes," said Fullalove, winking to Kenealy;
*but we don't know what it means. Do you.
Sir?"
"Iss, Sar. Dat ar expression he signify a
darned old cuss dat says to dis child, * My lord
Vespasium, take benevolence on your insidious
slave, and invest me in a bread bag,' instead of
fighting for de ladies like a freenindependum
citizen. Now you two go fast asleep ; dis child
he shut one eye and open de oder bery wide open
on dat ar niggar." And with this mysterious
threat he stalked away.
His contempt for a black skin, his ebullitions
of unexpected ire, his turgid pomposity, and love
of long terms, may make the reader smile ; but
they could hardly amuse his friends just then :
eweryr thing that touched upon Dodd was too
serious now. The surgeon sat up with him near-
ly all night : in the daytime these two friends
sat for hours in his cabin, watching sadly, and
silently moistening his burning brow and his
parched lips. '
At length, one afternoon, there came a crisis,
which took an unfavorable turn. Then the
surgeon, speaking confidentially to these two
stanch friends, inquired if they had asked thenw
selves what should be done with the body?
"Why I ask," said he, "we are in a very hot
latitude ; and, if you wish to convey it to Bark-
ington, the measures ought to be taken in time :
in fact, within an hour or two after death."
The poor friends were shocked and sickened
by this horrible piece of foresight. But Colonel
Kenealy said, with tears in his eyes, that his old
friend should never be buried like a kitten.
"Then you had .better ask Sharpe to'give me
an order for a barrel of spirits," said the surgeon.
"Yes, yes, for two if you like. Oh don't die,
Dodd, my poor old fellow. How shall I ever
face his wife I remember her, the loveliest girl
you ever saw with such a tale as this? She
will think it a cruel thing I should come out of
it without a scratch, and a ten times better man
to be dead : and so it is ; it is cruel, it is unjust,
it is monstrous ; him to be lying there, and we
mufis to be sitting croaking over him and watch-
ing for his last breath like three cursed old ra-
vens." And the stout colonel groaned aloud.
When the surgeon left them they fell natu-
rally upon another topic : the pledge they had
given Dodd about the 14,000. They ascer-
tained it was upon him : next his skin : but it
seemed as unnecessary as it was repugnant to
remove it from his living person. They agreed, .
towever, that instantly on his decease they would
take possession of it, note the particulars, seal it
up, and carry it to Mrs. Dodd, with such comfort
as they could hope to give her by relating the
gallant act in which his precious life was lost.
At nine p.m. the surgeon took his place by
Dodd's bedside ; and the pair, whom one thing
after another had drawn so close together, re-
tired to Kenealy's cabin.
Many a merry chat they had had there : and
many a gasconade ; being rival huntei^ : but now
they were together for physical companionship
in sorrow, rather than for conversation. They
smoked their cigars in moody silence ; and at
midnight shook hands with a sigh, and parted.
That sigh meant to say that in the morning all
would be over.
They turned in : but, ere either of them was
asleep, suddenly the captain's cabin seemed to
fill with roars and shrieks of wild beasts, that
made the whole ship ring in the silent night ;
the savage cries were answered on deck by shouts
of dismay and many pattering feet making for
the companion ladder : but the nearest persons
to the cabin, and the first to reach it, were
Kenealy and Fullalove, who burst in, the former
with a drawn sword, the latter with a revolver,
both in their night-gowns ; and there saw a sight
that took their breath away.
The surgeon was not there : and two black
men, one with a knife, and one with his bare
claws, were fighting, and struggling^ and tranw
pling all o\e;t \!tift ^^m w\. istkca^ wsft^ ^^ ^\a%
i them.
80
VERY HABD CASH.
CHAPTER XV.
The two supple dusky forms went whirling so
fast, there was no grasping them to part them.
But presently the negro seized the Hindoo by
the throat ; the Hindoo just pricked him in the
arm with his knife, and the next moment his
own head was driven against the side of the
cabin with a stunning crack ; and there he was,
pinned, and wriggling, and bluish with fright,
whereas the other swart face close against his
was dark-gray with rage, and its two fire-balls
of eyes rolled fearfully, as none but African
eyes can roll.
Fuljalove pacified him by roice and touch:
he withdrew his iron grasp with sullen and lin-
gering reluctance, and glared like a disappoint-
ed mastiff. The cabin was now full, and Sharpe
was for putting both the blacks in irons. No
splitter of hairs was he. But Fullalove suggest-
ed there might be a moral distinction between
things that looked equally dark to the eye.
"Well, then, speak quick, both of you,'* said
Sharpe, "or Til lay ye both by the heels. Ye
black scoundrels, what business have you in the
captain's cabin, kicking up the devlFs delight?"
Thus threatened, Vespasian panted out his
tale : he had discovered this nigger, as he per-
sisted in caUing the Hindoo, eternally prowling
about the good captain's door, and asking stupid
questions: he had watched him, and, on the
surgeon coming out with the good news that
the captain was better, in had crawled "this
yar abommable egotisk." And he raised a pon-
derous fist to point the polysyllables : with this
aid the sarcasm would doubtless have been crush-
ing : but Fullalove hung on the sable orator's
arm, and told him dryly to try and speak with-
out gesticulating. " The darned old cuss," said
Vespasian, with a pathetic sigh at not being let
hit him. He resumed; and told how he had
followed the Hindoo, stealthily, and found him
with a knife uplifted over the captain a tremor
ran through all present robbing him. At this
a loud murmur filled the room ; a very ugly
one, the sort- of snarl with which dogs fly at
dogs' throats with their teeth, and men fly at
men's throats with a cord.
" Be quiet, " said Sharpe, imperiously. " I'll
have no lynching in a vessel I command. Now
then, you. Sir, how do you know he was robbing
the captain ?"
"How do I know? Yah! yah! Cap'n, if
you please you tell dis unskeptical gemman
whether you don't miss a lilly book out of your
bosom!"
During this extraordinary scene, Dodd had
been looking from one speaker to another, in
great surprise and some confusion : but, at the
negro's direct appeal, his hand went to his breast
and clutched it with a feeble but heart-rending
cry.
"Oh, him not gone far. Yah! yah!" and
Vespasian stooped, and took up an oil-skin
packet off the floor ; .and laid it on the bed :
"dis child seen him in dat ar niggar's hand:
and heard him go whack on de floor."
Dodd hurried the packet into his bosom, then
turned a\\ gratitude to his sable friend : " Now
Godblesg you ! God bless yon 1 Give me your
honest hand! You' don't know what you have
aone for me and mine, "
And, sick as he was, he wrung Vespasian's
hand with convulsive strength, and would not
part with it. Vespasian patted him soothingly
all over, and whimpered out : " Nebber you min^
cap'n! You bery good man : dis child bery fond
of you a long time ago. You bery good man,
outrageous good man, dam good man ! I pro-
pose your health : invalesce directly !"
While Dodd was speaking, the others were
silent out of respect : but now Sharpe broke 1%
and, with the national desire to hear both sides,
called on Ramgolam for his version. The Hin-
doo was now standing with his arms crossed on
his breast, looking all the martyr, meek and dig-
nified. He inquired of Sharpe, in very broken
English, whether he spoke Hindostanee ?
" Not I : nor don't act it neither," said Sharpe.
At this confession Ramgolam looked down on
him with pity and mild contempt.
Mr. Tickell was put forward as interpreter.
Ramgolam (in Hindoostanee). He, whom Des-
tiny, too strong for mortals, now oppresses with
iron hand, and feeds with the bread of afflic-
tion
Mr, Tickell (translating). He, who by bad luck
has got into trouble
Ramgolam. Has long observed the virtues thai
embellish the commander of this ship resembling
a mountain, and desired to imitate them
Tickell, Saw what a good man the captain is^
and wanted to be like him
Vespasian, The darned old cuss.
Ramgolam, Seeing him often convey his hand
to his bosom, I ascribed his unparalleled excel-
lence to the possession of some sovereign talis-
man. (Tickell managed to translate this sen-
tence all but the word talisman, which he ren-
dered with all a translator's caution "arti-
cle.") Finding him about to depart to the
regions of the blessed, where such auxiliaries
are not needed, and being eager to emulate his
perfections here below, I came softly to the place
where he lay
Tickell. When I saw him going to slip his
cable, I wanted to be as good a fellow as he is,
so I crept alongside
Ramgolam. And gently, and without force,
made myself proprietor of the amulet, and in-
heritor of a good man's qualities
Tickell, And quietly boned the article, and
the captain's virtues. I don't know what the
beggar means.
Ramgolam, Then a traitor with a dark skin,
but darker soul
Tickell, Then another black-hearted nig-
ger
Ramgolam. Came furiously and misappropri-
ated the charm thus piously obtained
Tickell. Ran in and stole it from me.
Ramgolam, And bereft me of the excellences 1
was inheriting : and
Here Sharpe interrupted the dialogue by put-
ting the misappropriator of other men's virtues
in irons : and the surgeon insisted on the cabin
being cleared. But Dodd would not part with
the three friends yet : he begged them to watch
him, and see nobody else came to take his chil-
dren's fortune.
"I'll sink or swim with it; but, oh, I doubt
we shall have no luck while it is aboard me. I
I never had a pVcate alongside before, in all these
I years. "What \a tlois^ \iw^'% %o\sw5k\38iMi% ia U
VERY HARD CASH.
81.
now; something hard something heavy : and
why it is a ballet !"
On this annoancemcnt, an eager inspection
took place: and, sure enough, a bullet had
passed through Dodd's coat, and waistcoat, etc.,
and through the oil-skin, and the leather pocket-
book, and just dented the '* Hard Cash ;" no
more.
There was a shower of comments and con-
gratulations.
The effect of this discovery on the sick man's
spirits was remarkable. ' ^ I was a villain to belie
it," said he. * ' It is my wife's, and my children's ;
and it has saved my life for them."
He kissed it, and placed it in his bosom, and
soon after sunk into a peaceful slumber. The
excitement had not the ill effect the surgeon
feared: it somewhat exhausted him; and he
slept long : but, on awakening, was pronounced
out of danger. To tell the truth, the tide had
turned in his favor overnight; and it was to
convey the good news on deck the surgeon had
left him.
While Dodd was recovering, the Agra was
beating westward, with light but contrary winds :
and a good month elapsed without any incident
affecting the Hard Cash, whose singular adven-
tores I have to record. In this dearth please
put up witfif a little characteristic trifle, which
did happen one moonlight night. Mr. Fullalove
lay coiled below decks in deep abstraction medi-
tating a patent : and, being in shadow and silent,
he saw Vespasian in the moonlight creeping on
all fours like a guilty thing into the bedroom of
Colonel Kenealy, then fast asleep. A horrible
suspicion thrilled through Fullalove : a suspicion
he waited grimly to verify.
The transatlantic Mixture, Fullalove, was not
merely an inventor a philanthrope a warrior a
preacher a hunter a swimmer a fiddler a shai-p
fellow a good fellow a Puritan and a Bohemian ;
he was also a Theorist : and his Theory, which
dub we
THE AFBICAN THEOBT,
had two branches. 1. That the races of men
started equal: but accident upon accident had
walked some tribes up a ladder of civilization,
and kicked others down it, and left others stand-
ing at the foot.
2. That the good work of centuries could be
done at a pinch, in a few generations, by arti-
ficial condensation of the favorable circum-
stances. For instance, secure this worker in
Ebony 150 years' life, and he would sign a penal
bond to produce Negroes of the fourth descent,
equal in mind to the best contemporary white.
You can breed Brains," said ho, *' under any
skin, as inevitably as Fat. It takes time and
the right crosses ; but so docs Fat ; or ratther it
did; for Fat is an institution now." And here
our Republican must have a slap at thrones;
"Compare," said he, **the opportunities of
these distinguished Gentlemen and Ladies with
their acts! Their seats have been high, but
th^r minds low, I swan. They have been
breeders for ages : and known the two rudiments
of the science; have crossed and crossed for
grenadiers, race-horses, poultry, and prize bul-
locks ; and bred in and in for fools ; but which
of them has ever aspired to breed a Newton, a
Pascal, a Shakspeare^ a Soion, a Raphael?
7^ all these were results to be obtained by the
right crosses, as surely as a swift horse or a cir-
cular sow. Now fancy breeding short-horns
when you might breed long heads." So Vess-
pasian was to engender Young Africa ; he was
to be first elevated moraUy and intellectually as
high as he would go, and then set to breed;
his partner, of course to be elected by Fullalove,
and educated as high, as she would consent to
without an illicit connection with the Experi-
mentalist. He would be down on their Picka-
ninnies, before the parents could transfer the
remnant of their own weaknesses to them, poly-
syllables included ; and would polish these ebony
chips : and, at the next cross, reckoned to roar a
genius, by which time as near as he could cal-
culate, he the Theorist would be in his dotage :
and all the 4)etter ; make a curious contrast in
favor of young Africa.
Vespasian could not hit a bam door sitting
with a rifle : it was purely with a view to his
moral improvement, mind you, that Fullalove
invited him into the mizzentop to fight tlie pirate.
The Patient came gingerly and sliivcred there
with fear. But five minutes elapsing, and he
not killed, that weakness gave way to a jocund
recklessness ; and he kept them all gay with his
quaint remarks, of which I must record but one.
When they crossed the stem of the pirate, the
distance was so small that the faces of that mot-
ley crew were plainly visible: now, Vespasian
was a merciless critic of colored skins ; **Wal,"
said he, turning up his nose sky-high, ^*dis child
never seen such a mixallaneous biling o' darkeys
as this yar; why darned ef there ain't every
color in the rainbow; from the ace of spades
down to the fine dissolving views." This amaz-
ing description coupled with his look of affront
and disgust, made the white men roar ; for men
fighting for their lives have a greater tendency
to laugh than one would think possible. Fulla-
love was proud of the critic, and for a while lost
sight of the pirate in his theory ; which also may
seem strange. But your true theorist is a man
apart : he can withdraw into himself under dif-
ficulties. **What said one of the breed two
thousand years ago?
Media inter prsclia semper
Sideribus ccclique plagis Sup^isque vacavi.
Oh the great African heart 1" said Fullalove,
after the battle. " By my side he fears no dan-
ger. Of all men negroes are the most capable
of friendship ; their affection is a mine : and we
have only worked it with the lash ; and that is a
ridicalous mining tool I ratther think."
When Vespasian came out so strong versus
Ramgolam, Fullalove was even more triumph-
ant : for after all it is not so much the heart,
as the intelligence, of the negro, we albiculi af-
fect to doubt.
" Oh the great African intellect!" said Fulla-
love, publicly, taking the bull by the homs.
**I know," said Mrs. Beresford, maliciously;
** down in the maps as the great African Desert."
To balance his many excellences Vespasian
had an infirmity. Thiq was, an ungovernable
itch for brushing whites. If he was talking with
one of that always admired, and now beloved,
race, and saw a speck of dirt on him, he would
brash him unobtrusively, but effectually, in full
dialogue : he would ^taol bft\ivcA ^^Vx^^^a. ^*l^\sj&Rk
and brvisYi ^"Vioc^et ivi^^'5^ ^^^ Vw;^"^^'^ \jc^.
82
VERY HARD CASH.
one point Instinct would not yield to Reason.
He could not keep his hands off a dustj white.
He would have died of the miller of Dee. But
the worst was he did not stop at clothes; he
loathed ill-blacked shoes : woe to all foot-leather
that did not shine; his own skin furnished a
perilous standard of comparison. He was eter-
nally blacking boots en amateur. Fullalove got
in a rage at this, and insisted on his letting his
fellow-creature's leather alone. Vespasian plead-
ed hard, especially for leave to black Colonel
Kenealy. "The cunnel," said he, pathetically,
"is such a tarnation fine gentleman spoilt for
want of a lilly bit of blacking.*' Fullalove re-
plied that the colonel had got a servant whose
mission it was to black his shoes. This simply
amused Vespasian. **A servant?" said he.
**Yah! yah! What is the use of white serv-
ants ? They are not biddable. Massa Fullalove,
Sar! Goramighty he reared all white men to
kick up a dust, white servants inspecially, and
the darkeys to brush em ; and likewise addition-
ally to make their boots shine, a lilly bit. " He
concluded with a dark hint that the colonel's
white servant's own shoes, though better blacked
than his master's, were any thing but mirrors,
and that this child had his eye on them.
The black desperado emerged on tip-toe from
Kenealy's cabin, just as Macbeth does from the
murdered Duncan's chamber : only with a pair
of boots in his hand instead of a pair of daggers ;
got into the moonlight, and finding himself un-
interrupted, assumed the whistle of innocence,
and polished them to the nine, chuckling audibly.
Fullalove watched him with an eye like a rat-
tlesnake : but kept quiet. He saw interference
would only demoralize him worse : for it is more
ignoble to black boots clandestinely than brave-
ly : men ditto.
He relieved his heart with idioms. " Dam the
critter; he's fixed my flint eternally. Now I
cave. I swan to man I may just hang up my
fiddle: for this darkey's too hard a row to hoe."
It was but a momentary dejection. The Mixt-
ure was (inter alia) a Theorist and an Anglo-
Saxon; two indomitables. He concluded to
* temporize with the Brush : and breed it out.
"I'm bound to cross the obsequious cuss with
the catawamptiousest gal in Guinea : and one
' that never saw a blacking-bottle, not even in a
dream." Majora canamus.
f Being now about a hundred miles South of the
^ Mauritius, in fine weather with a light breeze,
I * Dodd's marine barometer began to fall steadily :
and by the afternoon the declension had become
so remarkable that he felt uneasy, and, somewhat
to the surprise of the crew for there was now
scarce a breath of air ^furled his slight sails,
treble reefe(t his top-sails, had his top-gallant,
and royal, yards, and gaff top-sail sent on deck,
got. his flying jib-boom in, etc., and made the
ship snug.
Kenealy asked him what was the matter?
"Barometer going down ; moon at the full;
and Jonah aboard," was the reply, uttered dog-
gedly.
Kenealy assured him it was a beautiful even-
ing, jDrecursor of a fine day. " See how red the
sunset is:
Evening red and morning gray
Are the eureaigna of a fine day."
Dodd looked, and shook his head. The snfi
was red : but the wrong red : an angry red :
and, as he dipped into the wave, discharged a
lurid coppery hue that rushed in a moment like
an embodied menace over the entire heavens.
The wind ceased altogether : and in the middle
of an unnatural and suspicious calm the glass
went down, down, down.
The moon rose : and instantly all eyes were
bent on her with suspicion ; for in this latitude
the hurricanes generally come at the full moon.
She was tolerably clear, however; but a light
scud sailing across her disk showed there was
wind in the uppei regions.
The glass fell lower than Dodd had ever seen IL
He trusted to science; barred the lee-ports,
and had the dead-lights put into the stem cabin
and secured : then turned in for an hour's sleep.
Science proved a prophet. Just at seven bells,
in one moment, like a thunder-bolt from the
sky, a heavy squall strack the ship, and laid her
almost on her beam ends. Under a less careful
captain her lee-ports would have been open, and
she would have gone to the bottom like a bullet
" Ease the main sheet !" cried Sharpe, hastily,
to a hand he had placed there on purpose : the
man, in his hurry, took too many turns off the
cleet, the strain overpowered him, he let go, and
there was the sail flap}ing like thuMfter, and the
sheet lashing every thing in the most dangerous
way. Dodd was on deck in a moment. "Up
mainscl! Get hold of the clue garnets, bunt-
lines, and leech-lines ; run them up ! Now then,
over to wind'ard ! Let go the main-bowling !
Keep to the run men! Belay 1'*
And so the sail was saved.
"Folkstle, there!"
"Sir!"
" Hands up : furl sails!'*
"Ay, ay. Sir."
(Pipe.) "All hands furl sail, ahoy !"
Up tumbled the crew, went cheerily to wor^
and by three bells in the middle watch ^had
furled the few remaining sails, and treble reefed
the main top-sail : under this last the ship lay to,
with her head as near the wind as they could
bring it, and so the voyage was suspended.
A heavy sea got up under a scourging wind
that rose and rose, till the Agira under the press-
ure of that single sail treble reefed, heeled over
so as to dip her lee channels. This went on till
the waves rolled so high, and the squalls were so
bitter, that sheets of water were actually torn
off their crests and hiunchcd incessantly on deck,
not only drenching Dodd and his officers, which
they did not mind, but threatening to flood the
ship.
Dodd battened down the hatches, and stopped
that game.
Then came a danger no skill could avert : the
ship lurched so rapidly that the seams of hes
works opened and shut : she also heeled over so
violently now, as not merely to dip, but bury,
her lower deck port-pendants : and so a good
deal of water found ingress through the windage.
Then Dodd set a gang to the pumps: for he
said : " We can hardly hope to weather this out
without shipping a sea : and I won't have wates
coming in upon water."
And now the wind, raging and roaring like
discharges of aitUlery, and not like wind as
known in onr seas, ^Jacxasi^ \.o \vw^ t^vX wx\. ^
VERY HABD CASH.
83
the lights of hearen. The sky was inkj black,
and quite do^ tu their 1 1 em Is: and the wind
Etill 4nrapliig, th^fes^l en me down to her qX'
tremi flCnQjKttalPit was plain she would soon
be lERlther^Hl^H^a. t^harpe and Dodd met,
and iioWngi^iy ^ibe life-lines, applied their
speak iu^-truintill^ tight to each other's ears:
and even then tlieyihad U} bawl.
** She ean't vany & rix;: iiiuuh longer."
j'^^Oi Sir; not half Jtu iioLin"
**'Caa wo furl ihat isuiin diiipsle?"
Sharpe shwk h\^ bead. *^The first moment
we start a sheet ihe sail will whip the mast out
of her."
* * You are right. Well then, I'll cut it away."
"Volunteers, Sir?"
**Ay, twelve: no more. Send them to my
cabin.'*
Sharpe's difficulty was to keep the men back,
so eager were the fine fellows to risk their lives.
However, he brought twelve to the cabin, headed
by Mr. Grey, who had a right, as captain of the
watch, to go with them ; on which right he in-
sisted in spite of Dodd's earnest request that he
would forego it. When Dodd saw his resolu-
tion, he dropped the friend, and resumed the
captain : and spoke to them through a trumpet ;
the first time he had ever used one in a cabin,
or seen one used.
" Mr. Grey, and men, going aloft to save the
main-mast, by cutting the sail away."
"Ay, ay. Sir!"
" Service of danger, great daijger I"
"Hurrah!"
"But great dangers can be made smaller by
working the right way. Attend ! Lay out all
on the yard, and take your time from one ; man
at the lee yard-arm : don't know who that will
be; but one of the smartest men in the ship.
Order to him is; hold bis knife hand well up;
rest to see; and then in knives altogether:
mind and cut from you, and bdow the reef
band; and then I hope to see all come down
alive."
Mr. Grey and his twelve men left the cabin ;
and hey ! for the main-top. The men let the
officer lead them as far as Jacob's ladder, and
then hurrah for the lee yard-arm! That was
where all wanted to be, and but one could be :
Grey was as anxious as the rest : but officers of
his rank seldom go aloft, and soon fall out of
their cat-like habits. He had done about six
ratlines, when, instead of going hand over head,
he spread his arms to seize a. shroud on each |
side of him : by this he weakened his leverage, |
and the wind just then came fiercer, caught him,
and flattened him against the rigging as tight as
if Nature had caught up a mountain for a ham- '
mer and nailed him with a cedar ; he was spread- |
eagled. The men accepted him at once as a ;
new patent ratline with a fine resisting power : :
they went up him, and bounded three ordinary :
rathnes at a go off all his promontories, especial-
ly his shoulders, and his head, receiving his com-
pliments in the shape of hearty curses: they
gained the top and lay out on the yard with
fiieir hair flying like streamers : and who got the
place of honor but Thompson, the jolly foretop-
man, who couldn't stand smoked pea soup. So j
itroDg and so weak are men. ;
Thompson raised his knife high; there was
a paoie : then id went all their knives, and .
away went the sail into the night of the storm,
and soon seemed a sheet of writing paper, and
more likely to hit the sky than the sea. The
men came down, picked their officer off the
rigging, had a dram in the captain's cabin, and
saw him enter their names in the log-book for
good service, and in the purser's for extra grog
on Sundays from there to Gravesend.
The ship was relieved ; and all looked well,
till the chronometer, their only guide now, an-
nounced sunset : when the wind, incredible as it
may appear, increased, and one frightful squall
dipped the muzzles of the lee carronades in the
water.
Then was heard the first cry of distress : an
appalling sound ; the wail of brave men. And
they had borne it all so bravely, so cheerfully,
till now. But now they knew something must
go, or else the ship; the suspense was awful,
but very short. Crack! crash! the fore and
main top mast both gone ; short off by the caps ;
and the ship recovered slowly, hesitatingly, trem-
blingly.
Relieving her from one danger this subjected
her to another and a terrible one. The heavy
spars that had fallen, unable to break loose from
the rigging, pounded the ship so savagely as to
threaten to stave in her side.
But neither this stout captain nor his crew
shirked any danger men had ever grappled with
since men were ; Dodd ordered them to cut
away the wreck to leeward : it was done : then
to windward : this, the more ticklish operation,
was also done smartly: the wreck passed under
the ship's quarter, and she drifted clear of it.
They breathed again.
At eight bells in the first watch it began to
thunder and lighten furiously ; but the thunder,
though close, was quite inaudible in the tre-
mendous uproar of the winc^ and sea. It blew
a hurricane : there were no more squalls now ;
but one continuous tornado, which in its passage
through that great gaunt skeleton, the ship's
rigging and bare poles, howled and yelled and
roared so terrifically, as would have silenced a
salvo of artillery fired alongside. The over-
whelming sea ran in dark watery mountains
crested with devilish fire. The inky blackness
added supernatural horror; the wrath of the
Almighty seemed upon them : and his hand to
drop the black sky down on them for their fu-
neral pall. Surely Noah from his ark saw no-
thing more terrible.
What, is that? close on the lee bow: close:
the flash of a gun : another ; another ; another.
A ship in distress firing minute-guns, in their
ears; yet no sound: human thunder silenced,
as God's thunder was silenced by the uproar of
his greater creatures in' their mad rage. The
Agra fired two minute-guns to let the other
poor ship know she had a companion in her
helplessness, and her distress, and probably a
companion in her fate. Even this companion-
ship added its mite of danger : for both ships
were mere playthings of the elements; they
might be tossed together ; and then what would
be their fate? Two eggs clashed together in a
great boiling caldron, and all the life spilt out.
Yet did each flash shoot a ray of humanity
and sympathy into the thick blask %\vvBcwsi.\xa'ai.
horror. .
And uoNV coma e\wsivc^ xi.-^^ c's^^rnxv^. 6w
U^:;
84
VERT HARD CASH.
tremendons sea broke the tiller at the mdder-
head, and not only was the ship in danger of
falling off and shipping the sea, but the rudder
hammered her awfully, and bade fair to stave in
her counter, which is another word for Destruc-
tion. Thus death came at them with two hands
open at once.
These vessels always carry a spare tiller: they
tried to ship it : but the difficulty was prodigious.
No light but the miserable deck lantern one
glow-worm in Egypt supematurally darkened
the Agra never on an even keel, and heeling
over like a sea-saw more than a ship ; and then
every time they did place the tiller, and get the
strain on with their luff tackles, the awful sea
gave it a blow and knocked it away like a hair.
At last they hit it off, or thought they had,
for the ponderous thumps of the rudder ceased
entirely. However, the ship did not obey this
new tiller like the old one : her head fell off in
an unlucky moment when seven waves were roll-
ing in one, and, on coming to the windward
again, she shipped a sea. It came in over her
bow transversely; broke as high as the main-
stay, and hid and buried the whole ship before
the mast: carried away the waist bulwarks on
both sides, filled the launch, and drowned the
live-stock which were in it : swept four water-
butts and three men away into the sea, like
corns and straws ; and sent tons of water down
the forescuttle and main hatchway, which was
partly opened not to stifle the crew ; and flooded
the gun-deck ankle-deep.
Dodd, who was in his cabin, sent the whole
crew to the pumps, except the man at the wheel ;
and prepared for the worst.
In men so brave as he was, when Hope dies,
Fear dies. His chief care now was to separate
the fate of those he loved from his own. He
took a bottle, inserted the fatal money in it,
with a few words of love to his wife, and of di-
rection to any stranger that should fall in with
it ; secured the cork with melted sealing-wax,
tied oil-skin over it, and melted wax on that ;
applied a preparation to the glass to close the
pores : and to protect it against other accidents,
and attract attention, fastened a black painted
bladder to it by a stout tarred twine, and paint-
ed ^^Agra, lost at sea," in white on the bladder.
He had logged each main incident of the storm
with that curt, business-like accuracy, which
reads so cold and small a record of these great
and terrible tragedies. He now made a final
entry a little more in character with the situa-
tion: *' About eight bells in the morning watch
shipped a heavy sea forward. The rudder be-
ing now damaged, and the ship hardly manage-
able, brought the log and case on deck, expect-
ing to founder shortly. Sun and moon hidden
this two days, and no observation possible ; but
by calculation of wind and current, we should
be about fifty miles to the southward of the Mau-
ritius. God*8 will be done.*'
He got on deck with the bottle in his pocket,
and the bladder peeping out : put the log, and
its case, down on deck, and by means of the
life-lines crawled along on his knees, and with
great difficulty, to the wheel. Finding the man
could hardly hold on, and dreading another sea,
Dodd, with his own hands, lashed him to the
helm.
WljjJe thns employed he felt the ship give a
slight roll, a veiy slight roll, to windward. His
experienced eye lightened with hope; he cast
his eager glance to leeward. There it is a sailor
looks for the first spark of hope. Ay, thereaway
was a little, little gleam of light. He patted
the helmsman on the shoulder and pointed to it ;
for now neither could one man speak for the
wind, nor another hear. The sailor nodded
joyfully.
Presently the continuous tornado broke into
Hope grew brighter.
But, unfortunately, in one furious squall the
ship broke round off so as to present her quar-
ter to the sea at an unlucky moment: for it
came seven deep again, a roaring mountain, and
hurled itself over her stem and quarter. The
mighty mass struck her stern frame with the
weight of a hundred thousand tons of water, and
drove her forward as a boy launches his toy-
boat on a pond ; and, though she made so litde
resistance, stove in the dead-lights and the port
frames, burst through the cabin bulk-heads, and
washed out all the furniture, and Colonel Kenea-
ly in his night-gown with a table in his arms
borne on water Aree feet deep ; and carried him
under the poop awning away to the lee quarter-
deck scuppers; and flooded the lower deck.
Above, it swept the quarter-deck clean of every
thing except the shrieking helmsman ; washed
Dodd away like a cork, and would have carried
him overboard if he had not brought up against
the main-mast and grasped it like grim death,
half drowned, half stunned, sorely bruised, and
gasping like a porpoise ashore.
He held on by the mast in water and foam,
panting. He rolled his despairing eyes around :
the bulwarks fore and aft were all in ruins, with
wide chasms, as between the battlements of some
decayed castle: and through the gaps he saw
the sea yawning wide for him. He dare not
move : no man was safe a moment, unless lash-
ed to mast or helm. He held on, expecting
death. But presently it struck him he could
see much farther than before. He looked up:
it was clearing overhead ; and the uproar abat-
ing visibly. And now the wind did not decline
as after a gale; extraordinary to the last, it
blew itself out.
Sharpe came on deck, and crawled on all
fours to his captain, and helped him to a life-
line. He held on by it, and gave his orders.
The wind was blown out; but the sea was as
dangerous as ever. The ship began to roll to
windward. If that was not stopped, her fate
was sealed. Dodd had the main try-sail set,
and then the fore try-sail, before he would yield
to go below, though drenched, and sore, and
hungry, and worn out. Those sails steadied
the ship ; the sea began to go down by degrees ;
the celestial part of nature was more generous:
away flew every cloud, out came the heavenly
sky bluer and lovelier than ever they had seen
it: the sun flamed in its centre. Nature, after
three days' eclipse, was so lovely : it seemed a
new heavens and a new earth. If there was an
infidel on board who did not believe in Grod,
now his soul felt Him, in spite of the poor little
head: as for Dodd, who was naturally pious,
he raised his eyes toward that lovely sky in
heart-felt, though silent, gratitude to its Maker
for saving the ship and cargo and her peoples'
VERY HARD CASH.
85
liTes, not forgetting the private treasure he was
carrying home to his dear wife and children at
b)me.
With this thought, he naturally looked down :
hat missed the bladder that had lately protruded
from his pocket; he clapped his hand to his
pocket all in a flatter. The bottle was gone.
In a fever of alarm and anxiety, but with good
hopes of finding it, he searched the deck: he
looked in every cranny, behind every coil of
rope the sea had not carried away.
In vain.
The sea, acting on the buoyant bladder at-
tached, had clearly torn the bottle out of his
pocket when it washed him against the mast.
His treasure then must have been driven much
farther : and how far ? Who could tell ?
It flashed on the poor man with fearful dis-
tinctness that it must either have been picked
np by somebody in the ship ere now, or else
carried out to sea.
Strict inquiry was made among the men.
No one had seen it.
The fruit of his toil and prudence, the treas-
ure Love, not Avarice, had twined with his
heart-strings ; was gone. In its defense he had
defeated two pirates, each his superior in force ;
and now conquered the elements at their mad-
dest. And in the very moment of that great
victory It was gone.
CHAPTER XVI.
The subsiding sea was now a liquid Paradise :
its great pellucid braes and hillocks shone with
the sparkle, and the hues, of all the jewels in an
emperor's crown. Imngine after three days of
inky sea, and pitchy sky, and Death's deep jaws
snapping and barely missing with a click ten
thousand great slopes of emerald, aquamarine,
iamethyst, and topaz, liquid, alive, and dancing
jocundly beneath a gorgeous sun : and you will
have a faint idea of what met the eyes and hearts
of the rescued looking out of that battered, jag-
ged, ship, upon ocean smiling back to smiling
Heaven.
Yet one man felt no buoyancy, nor gush of
joy. He leaned against a fragment of the
broken bulwark, confused between the sweet-
ness of life preserved and the bitterness of treas-
ure lost, his wife's and children's treasured treas-
ure ; benumbed at heart, and almost weary of
the existence he had battled for so stoutly. He
looked so moody, and answered so grimly and
unlike himself, that they all held aloof from him ;
heavy heart among so many joyful ones, he was
in true soUtude ; the bo^y in a crowd, the soul
alone. And he was sore as well as heavy : for,
of all the lubberly acts he had ever known, the
way he had lost his dear ones' fortune seemed to
him the worst.
A voice sounded in his ear: "Poor thing;
she has foundered !"
It was Fullalove scanning the horizon with his
famous glass.
" Foundered ? Who ?" said Dodd ; though he
did not care much who sank, who swam. Then
he remembered the vessel, whose flashing guns
bad shed a human ray on the unearthly horror
of the black hurricane. He looked all round.
Blank!
Ay, she had perished with all hands. The sea
had swallowed her, and spared him ; ungrateful.
This turned his mind sharply. Suppose the
Agra had gone down, the money would be lost
as now, and his life into the bargain, a life dearer
to all at home than millions of gold : he prayed
inwardly to Heaven for gratitude, and goodness
to feel Its mercy. This softened him a little ;
and his heart swelled so, he wished he was a
woman to cry over his children's loss for an
hour, and then shake all off and go through his
duty somehow ; for now he was paralyzed, and
all seemed ended. Next, nautical superstition
fastened on him. That pocket-book of his was
Jonah ; It had to go or else the ship ; the mo-
ment It did go, the storm had broken as by
magic. /
/* Now Superstition is generally stronger than)
rational Religion, whether they lie apart, or to-'
gether in one mind : and this superstitious no-
tion did something toward steeling the poor man.
" Come," said he to himself, ** my loss has saved
all these poor souls on board this ship. So be it !
Heaven's will be done ! I must bustle, or else
go mad."
He turned to and worked like a horse : and
with his own hands helped the men to rig paral-
lel ropes a substitute for bulwarks till the per-
spiration ran down him.
Bayliss now r'epbrted the well nearly dry, and
Dodd was about to bear up and make sail again,
when one of the ship-boys, a little fellow with a
bright eye and a chin like a monkey's, came up
to him and said,
* * Please, Captain ! " Then glared with awe at
what he had done, and broke down.
" Well, my little man?" said Dodd, gently.
Thus encouraged, the boy gave a great gulp,
and burst in a brogue: "Och your amr, sure
there's no rudder on her at all barrin the tiller."
** What d'ye mean?"
" Don't murrder me, your amr, and I'll tell
ye. It's meself looked over the starm just now ;
and I seen there was no rudder at all at all :
Mille diaoul sis I ; ye old bitch I'll tell his amr
what y'are after, slipping your radder like my
granny's list shoe, I will."
Dodd ran to the helm and looked down ; the
brat was right : the blows which had so endan-
gered the ship had broken the rudder, and the
sea had washbd it away in pieces. The sight
and the reflection made him faintish for a mo-
ment. Death passing so very close to a man
sickens him afterward ; unless he has the luck
to be brainless.
"What is your name, urchin ?"
"Ned Murphy, Sir."
" Very well. Murphy, then yon are a fine little
fellow, and have wiped all our eyes in the ship :
run and send the carpenter aft."
"Ay, ay, Sir."
The carpenter came. Like most artisans he
was clever in a groove : take him out of that,
and lo! a mule, a pig, an owl. He was not
only unable to invent, but so stiffly disinclined ;
a makeshift radder was clean out of his way ;
and, as his whole straggle was to get away from
every suggestion Dodd made back to groove afore-
said, the thing looked hopeless. Then Fulla-
love, who had stood by grinning, offered to maka
86
VERY HARD CASH.
a bunkum rudder, provided the carpenter and
mates were put under his orders. But, said he,
I must bargain they, shall be disrated if they at-
tempt to reason. "That is no more than fair,''
said Dodd.
The Yankee inventor demanded a spare main-
cap, and cut away one end of the square piece,
so as to make it fit the stern-post : through the
circle of the cap he introduced a spare mizzen-
top-mast : to this he seized a length of junk,
another to that, another to that, and so on : to
the outside junk he seized a spare main-top-
gallant mast, and this conglomerate being now
nearly as broad as a rudder, he planked over all.
The sea by this time was calm ; he got the ma-
chine over the stem, and had the square end of
the cap bolted to the stem-post. He had already
fixed four spans of nine-inch hawser to the sides
of the makeshift, two fastened to tackles, which
led into the gun-room ports, and were boused
taut these kept the lower part of the make-
shift close to the stern-post and two, to which
guys were now fixed and led through the after-
most ports on to the quarter-deck, where luff-
tackles were attached to them, by means of
which the makeshift was to be worked as a
rudder.
Some sail was now got on the ship, and she
was found to steer very well. Dodd tried her
on every tack; and at last ordered Sharpe to
make all sail and head for the Cape.
This electrified the first mate. The breeze
was very faint but southerly, and the Mauritius
under their lee. They could make it in a night,
and there refit, and ship a new rudder. He sug-
gested the danger of sailing sixteen hundred
miles steered by a Gimcrack; and implored Dodd
to put into port. Dodd answered with a rough-
ness and a certain wildness never seen in him
before : " Danger, Sir ! There will be no more
foul weather* this voyage; Jonah is overboard.''
Sharpe stared an inquiry. * ' I tell you we sha'n't
lower our top-gallants once from this to the Cape :
Jonah is overboard i* and ho slapped his fore-
head in despair; then, stamping impatiently
with his foot, told Sharpe his duty was to obey
orders, not discuss them. * * Certainly, Sir, " said
Sharpe sullenly, and went out of the cabin with
serious thoughts of communicating to the other
mates an alarming suspicion about Dodd, that
now for the first time crossed his mind. But
long habit of discipline prevailed, and he made
all sail on the ship, and bore away for the Cape,
with a heavy heart : the sea was like a mill-pond,
but in that he saw only its well-known treachery,
to lead them on to this unparalleled act of mad-
ness : each sail he hoisted seemed one more agent
of Destmction rising at his own suicidal com-
mand.
Toward evening it became nearly dead calm.
The sea heaved a little, but was waveless, glassy,
and the color of a rose, incredibly brave and
delicate.
The look-out reported pieces of wreck to
windward. As the ship was making so little
way, Dodd beat up toward them ; he feared it
was a British ship that had fotmdered in the
storm, and thought it his duty to ascertain and
carry the sad news home. In two tacks they
got near enough to see with their glasses that
the fragments bielonged, not to a stranger, but to
the u^yra herself ; there was one of her water-
butts, and a broken mast with some rigging : and,
as more wreck was descried coming in at a little
distance, Dodd kept the ship close to the wind
to inspect it : on drifting near it proved to be
several pieces of the bulwark and a mahogany
table out of the cuddy. This sort of flotsom
was not worth delaying the ship to pick it up ;
so Dodd made sail again, steering now S.E.
He had sailed about half a mile when the
look-out hailed the deck again.
" A man in the water!"
"Whereabouts?"
''A short league on the weather-quarter.*'
"Oh, we can't beat to windward for Aiw,*'
said Sharpe. " He is dead long ago."
" Holds his head very high for a corpse,'* said
the look-out.
" I'll soon know," cried Dodd. "Lower the
gig ; 1*11 go myself.**
The gig was lowered, and six swift rowers
pulled him to windward ; while the ship kept on
her course.
It is most unusual for a captain to leave the
ship at sea on such petty errands: but Dodd
half hoped the man might be alive ; and he was
so unhappy ; and, like his daughter, who prob-
ably derived the trait from him, grasped instinct-
ively at a chance of doing kindness to some poor
fellow allTe or dead. That would soothe his
own sore, good, heart.
When they had pulled about two miles the
sun was sinking into the horizon: "Give way,
men,'* said Dodd, "or we shall not be able to
see him.** The men bent to their oars, and
made the boat fiy.
Presently the coxswain caught sight of an ob-
ject bobbing on the water abeam.
"Why, that must be it,** said h: "the lub-
ber! to take it for a man's head. Why it is
nothing but a thundering old bladder, speckled
white.**
"What?** cried Dodd; and fell a trembling.
" Steer for it I Give way 1**
"Ay, ay. Sir!"
They soon came alongside the bladder, and
the coxswain grabbed it : " Hallo ! here's some-
thing lashed to it: a bottle !*'
" Give it me !" gasped Dodd, in a voice choked
with agitation. "Give it mel Back to the
ship! Fly! Fly! Cut her off, or she*ll give
us the slip, wot7.'*
He never spoke a word more, but sat in a
stupor of joyful wonder.
They soon caught the ship: he got into his
cabin, he scarce knew how : broke the bottle to
atoms, and found the indomitable cash unin-
jured. With trembling hands he restored it to
its old place in his bosom, and sewed it tighter
than ever. Until he felt it there once more, he
could hardly realize a stroke of good fortune
that seemed miraculous though, in reality, it
was less strange than the way he had lost it
but, now laid bodily on his heart, it set his bo-
som on fire: oh, the bright eye, the bounding
pulse, the buoyant foot, the reckless joy ! He
slapped Sharpe on the back a little vnlgarly, for
him:
"Jonah is on board again, old fellow: look
out for squalls.'*
He uttered this foreboding in a tone of tri-
umph, and with a gay, elastic recklessness, which
harmonized so well with his makeshift rodder.
VERY HARD CASH.
87
that Sharpe groaned aloud, and wished himself
under any captain in the world but this, and in
any other ship. He looked round to make sure
he was not watched, and then tapped his fore-
head significantly : this somewhat relieved him,
and he did his duty smartly for a man going to
the bottom with his eyes open.
BHt ill luck is not to be bespoken any more
(ban good: the Agra^s seemed to have blown
itself out; the wind varied to the southwest,
and breathed steadily in that quarter for ten
days. The top-gallant sails were never lowered
nor shifted day nor night all that time : and not
a single danger occurred between this and the
Gape, except to a monkey, which I fear I must
relate on account of its remoter consequences.
One fine afternoon every body was on deck
amusing themselves as they could ; Mrs. Beres-
ford, to wit, was being flattered under the poop
awning by Kenealy. The feud between her and
Dodd continued ; but under a false impression.
The lady had one advantage over the gentler
specimens of her sex: she was never deterred
from a kind action by want of pluck, as they
ore. Pluck? Aquilina was brimful of it. When
ihe found Dodd was wounded, she cast her
wrongs to the wind, and ofiered to go and nurse
him. Her message came at an unlucky mo-
ment, and by an unlucky messenger: the sur-
geon said, hastily, "1 can't have him bothered.'*
The stupid servant reported, "He can't be wor-
ried:" and Mrs. Beresford, thinking Dodd had
a hand in this answer, was bitterly mortified ;
and with some reason. She would have forgiv-
en him though, if he had died : but, as he lived,
she thought she had a right to detest him ; and
did : and showed her sentiments like a lady, by
never speaking to him, nor looking at him, but
ignoring him with frigid magnificence on his
own quarter-deck.
Now, among the crew of this ship was a fa-
vorite goat, good-tempered, afiectionate, playful :
but a single vice counterbalanced all his vir-
tues: he took a drop. A year or two ago some
light-hearted tempter taught him to sip grog ;
he took to it kindly, and was now arrived at
soch a pitch, that at grog-time he used to butt
his way in among the sailors, and get close to
die canteen ; and, by arrangement, an allow-
ance was always served him ; on imbibing it he
passed, with quadrupedal rapidity, through three
stages, the absurd, the choleric, the sleepy ; and
was never his own goat again until he awoke
from the latter. Now Master Fred Beresford
encountered him in the second stage of inebriety,
and, being a rough play-fellow, tapped his nose
with a battle-dore. Instantly Billy butted at
him; mischievous Fred screamed and jumped
on the bulwarks. Pot-angry Billy went at him
there; whereupon the young gentleman, with an
ddrich screech, and a comparative estimate of
perils that smacked of inexperience, fled into the
sea at the very moment when his anxious mo-
ther was rushing to save him; she uttered a
scream of agony, and would actually have fol-
lowed him ; but was held back uttering shriek
after shriek, that pierced every heart within
hearing.
But Dodd saw the boy go overboard, and
vaulted over the bulwark near the helm, roared
in the very air, "Heave the ship to!" and went
(Qklash into the water about ten yaf ds from the
place ; he was soon followed by Vespasian, and a
boat was lowered as quickly as possible. Dodd
caught sight of a broad straw-hat on the top of
a wave, swam lustily to it, and found Freddy
inside: it was tied under his chin, and would
have floated Goliah. Dodd turned to the ship,
saw the poor mother with white face and arms
outstretched as if she would fly at them, and
held the urchin up high to -her with a joyful
** hurrah." The ship seemed alive and to hur-
rah in return with giant voice : the boat soon
picked them up, and Dodd came up the side
with Freddy in his arms, and placed him in his
mother's with honest pride, and deep parental
sympathy.
Guess how she scolded and caressed her child
all in a breath, and sobbed over him ! For this
no human pen has ever told, nor ever will. All
I can just manage to convey is that, after she
had all but eaten the little torment, she sudden-
ly dropped him, and made a great maternal rush
at Dodd. She flung her arms round him and
kissed him eagerly, almost fiercely : then, car-
ried away wild by mighty Nature, she patted
him all over in the strangest way, and kissed his
waistcoat, his arms, his hands, and rained tears
of joy and gratitude on them.
Dodd was quite overpowered: "No! no!"
said he. "Don't now! pray don't! There, I
know, my dear, I know ; I'm a father." And
he was very near whimpering himself; but re-
covered the man and the commander, and said,
soothingly, "There! there!" and handed her
tenderly down to her cabin.
All this time he had actually forgotten the
packet. But now a horrible fear came on him.
He hurried to his own cabin and examined it.
A little salt-water had oozed through the bullet-
hole and discolored the leather; but that was
all. He breathed again.
"Thank Heaven I forgot all about it!" said
ho : "It would have made a cur of me."
La Beresford's petty irritation against Dodd
melted at once before so great a thing: she
longed to make friends with him ; but for once
felt timid; it struck her now all of a sudden
that she had been misbehaving. However, she
caught Dodd alone on the deck, and said to him
softly, "I want so to end our quarrel."
"Our quarfel, madam!" said he; "why I
know of none : oh, about the light, eh ? Well
you see the master of a ship is obliged to be a
tyrant in some things."
" I make no complaint," said the lady hastily,
and hung her head. "All I ask you is to for-
give one who has behaved like a fool, without
even the excuse of being one; and will you
give me your hand, Sir ?"
"Ay, and with all my heart," said Dodd,
warmly, inclosing the soft little h^nd in his
honest grasp.
And with no more ado these two high-fliers
ended one of those little misunderstandings petty
spirits nurse into a feud.
The ship being in port at the Cape, and two
hundred hammers tapping at her, Dodd went
ashore in searcH of Captain Robarts, and made
the Agra over to him in the friendliest way,
adding warmly that he had found every reason
to be satisfied with the ofiicers and the crew. To
his surprise Captain Robarts received all this
VERY HARD CASH.
ungracionsly. ''Ton ought to have remained
on board, Sir, and made me over the command
on the quarter-deck." Dodd replied, politely,
that it would have been more formal. " Sup-
pose I return immediately, and man the side for
yon: and then you board her, say in half an
hour."
*'I shall come when I like," replied Robarts,
crustily. "And when will you like to come?"
inquired Dodd, with imperturbable good-humor.
" Now : this moment : and I'll trouble you to
come along with me."
"Certainly, Sir."
They got a boat and went out to the ship : on
coming alongside, Dodd thought to meet his
wishes by going first and receiving him ; but the
jealous, cross-grained fellow shoved roughly
before him and led the way up the ship's side.
Sharpe and the rest saluted him: he did not
return the salute, but said, hoarsely, " Turn the
hands up to muster."
When they were all aft he noticed one or two
with their caps on. " Hats off, and be to
you !" cried he. " Do you know where you are ?
Do you know who you are looking at? If not,
1*11 show you. I'm here to restore discipline to
this ship: so mind how you run athwart my
hawse : don't you play with the bull, my men ;
or you'll find his horns sharp. Pipe down !
Now, you Sir, bring me the log-book !"
He ran his eye over it, and closed it con-
temptuously: "Pirates, and hurricanes! /never
fell in with pirates nor hurricanes : I have heard
of a breeze and a gale, but I never knew a sea-
roan worth his salt say * hurricane. ' Get another
log-book, Mr. Sharpe ; put down that it begins
this day at noon ; and enter, that Captain Rob-
arts came on deck, found the ship in a miserable
condition, took the command, mustered the offi-
cers and men, and stopped the ship's company's
groj:; for a week, for receiving him with hats on!"
Even Sharpe, that walldng Obedience, was
taken aback. "Stop the ship's company's
grog for a week, Sir?'*
"Yes, Sir, for a week: and if you fling my
orders back in my face instead of clapping on
sail to execute them, I'll have you towed ashore
on a grating : your name is Sharp ; well my name
is Damnedsharp ; and so you'll find."
In short, the new captain came down on the
ship like a blight.
He was especially hard on Dodd : nothing that
commander had done was right, nor, had ho
done the contrary, would that have been right :
he was disgracefully behind time ; and he ought
to have put in to the Isle of France^ which would
have retarded him : his rope bulwarks were lub-
berly ; his rudder a disgrace to navigation : he,
Robarts, was not so green as to believe that any
master had really sailed sixteen hundred miles
with it, and, if he had, more shame for him.
Briefly a marine criticaster.
All this was spoken ca Dodd a thing no male
does unless he is an awful snob-^and grieved
him, it was so unjust. He withdrew wounded to
the little cabin he was entitled to as a passenger,
and hugged his treasure for comfort. He patted
the pocket-book, and said to it, " Never yo mind.
T/te greater taiter he is, the less likely to sink
j^oii, or run you on a lee shore,**
With all bis love of discipline, Robarts was not
o fond of the ship as Dodd.
I While his repairs were going on, he was geiw
erally ashore ; and by this means missed a visit.
Commodore Collier, one of the smartest sailors
afloat, espied the Yankee makeshift from Uie
quarter-deck of his vessel, the Salamancoj fifty
guns. In ten minutes he was under the Agra^s
stem inspecting it; then came on board, uid
was received in form by Sharpe and the other
officers. *' Are you the master of this ship. Sir ?**
he asked.
"No, commodore. I am the first mate : the
captain is ashore."
" I am sorry for it. I want to talk about his
rudder.**
" Oh, he had nothing to do with that,*' replied
Sharpe, eagerly : ' * that was our dear old captain :
he is on board. Young gentleman ! ask Captain
Dodd to oblige me by coming on deck ! Hy !
and Mr. Fullalove too." " Young gentleman ?
inquired Collier. "What the devil officer is
that?"
" That is a name we give the middies ; I don't
know why.**
" Nor I neither ! ha ! ha !"
Dodd and Fullalove came on deck, and Com-
modore Collier bestowed the highest compli-
ments on the "makeshift." Dodd begged him
to transfer them to. the real inventor; and intro-
duced Fullalove.
" Ay,** said Collier, " I know you Yankees are
veiT handy. I lost my rudder at sea once, and
had to ship a makeshift : but it was a curs't com-
plicated thing ; not a patch upon yours, Mr. Full-
alove. Yours is ingenious, and simple. Ship
has been in action, I see : pray how was that, if
I may be so bold ?'*
"Pirates, commodore,** said Sharpe. "We
fell in with a brace of Portuguese devils, latine-
rigged, and carried ten guns apiece, in the Straits
of Caspar: fought em from noon till sundown,
riddled one, and ran down the other, and sunk
her in a moment. That was all yottr doing, cap-
tain ; so don't try to shift it on other people ; for
we won't let you."
" If he denies it, I won't believe him," said
Collier : "for he has got it in his eye. Gentle-
men, will you do me the honor to dine with me
to-day on board the flag-ship?**
Dodd and Fullalove accepted. Sharpe de-
clined, with regret, on the score of duty. And
as the cocked hat went down the side, after sa-
luting him politely, he could not help thinking
to himself what a difference between a real cap-
tain, who had something to be proud o^ and Ms
own unlicked cub of a skipper, with the manners
of a pilot-boat. He told Robarts the next day.
Robarts said nothing; but his face seemed to
turn greenish ; and it embittered his hatred of
Dodd the inoffensive.
It is droll, and sad, but true, that Christen-
dom is full of men in a hurry to hate. And
fruitful cause is jealousy. The schoolmen, or
rather certain of the schoolmen for nothing is
much shallower than to speak of all those dis-
putants as one school defined woman, "afeath-
erless biped vehemently addicted to jealousy."
Whether she is more featherless than the male
can be decided at a trifling expense of time^
money, and reason: you have only to go to|
court. But as for envy, and jealousy, I thLik it
is pure, \mo\)8eTvant, antique Cant which has
\ fixed ihem qat\ie i^meXe ^xh!(i\c ^s^odvely^
^
VERY HARD CASH.
89
S As a mole-hill to a mountain, is women's jeal-
/ onsy to men's. Agatha may have a host of vir-
/ tnes and graces, and jet her female acquaintance
will not hate her, provided she has the modera-
tion to abstain from being downright pretty. She
may sing like an angel, paint like an angel, talk
-write nurse the sick all like an angel, and
not rouse the devil in her fair sisters : so long as
she does not dress like an angel. But, the minds
f ci men being much larger than women's, yet
very little greater, they hang jealousy on a thou-
sand pegs. When there was no peg, I have seen
them do with a pin.
j Captain Robarts took a pin : ran it into his
own heart, and hung that sordid passion on it.
He would get rid of all the Doddites before
he sailed. He insulted Mr. Tickell, so that he
left the service, and entered a mercantile house
ashore : he made several of the best men desert :
and the ship went to sea short of hands. This
threw heavier work on the crew; and led to
many punishments, and a steady current of
abuse. Sharpe became a mere machine, always
obej^g, never speaking: Grey was put under
arrest for remonstrating against ungentlemanly
language : and Bayliss, being at bottom of the
same breed as Robarts, fell into his humor, and
helped hector the petty officers and men. The
crew, depressed and irritated, went through their
duties puUy-hauly-wise. There was no song un-
der the forecastle in the first watch, and often no
grog on the mess-table at one bell. Dodd nev-
er came on the quarter-deck without being re-
minded he was only a passenger, and the ship
was now under naval discipline.
"/was reared in the royal navy. Sir :'* would
Robarts say: ''second lieutenant aboard the
Atalcmta: that is the school. Sir ; that is the only
school that breeds seamen. Dodd bore scores
of similar taunts as a Newfoundland puts up
with a terrier in office : he seldom replied, and,
when he did, in a few quiet dignified words that
gave no handle.
Robarts, who bore the name of a lucky cap-
tain, had fair weather all the way to St. He-
lena.
The g^ard-ship at this island was the Sala-
manca, She had left the Cape a week before the
Affra, Captain Robarts, with his characteristic
good-breeding, went to anchor in shore of Her
Majesty's ship. The wind failed at a critical
moment, and a foul became inevitable : Collier
was on his quarter-deck, and saw what would
happen long before Robarts did: he gave the
needful orders, and it was beautiful to see how
ia half a minute the frigate's guns were run in,
her ports lowered, her yards toppled on end, and
a spring carried out and hauled on.
The Agra struck abreast her own forechains
on the Salamanca^ 8 quarter.
(Pipe.) " Boarders away. Tomahawks! cut
every thing that holds!" was heard from the
frigate's quarter-deck.
Rush came a boarding party on to the mer-
chant ship and hacked away without mercy all
her lower rigging that held on to the frigate,
signal halliards and all ; others boomed her off
with capstan bars, etc., and in two minutes the
ships were clear. A lieutenant and boat's crew
came for Robarts, and qr^ered him on board the
Saiamomca^ an(^ to msJse sure of his coming,
todc hmi hack with tbem. He fonnd Commo-
F
dore Collier standing stiff as a ramrod on his
quarter-deck.
"Are you the master of the Agraf* (His
quick eye recognized her in a moment.)
*'Iam, Sir."
''Then she was commanded by a seaman:
and is commanded by a lubber. Don't apply for
your papers this week ; for you won't get them.
Good-morning. Take him away !"
They returned Robarts to his ship ; and a sup-
pressed grin on a score of faces showed him the
clear commanding tones of the commodore had
reached his own deck. He soothed himself by
stopping the men's grog and mast-heading three
midshipmen that same afternoon.
The night before he weighed anchor, this dis-
ciplinarian was drinking very late in a low pub-
lic house. There was not much moon, and the
officer in charge of the ship did not see the gig
coming until it was nearly alongside; then all
was done in a flurry.
*'Hy! man the side lanterns there! Jump,
you boys! or you'll catch pepper."
The boys did jump, and little Murphy, not
knowing the surgeon had ordered the ports to be
drooped, bounded over the bulwarks Uke an an-
telope, lighted on the midship port, which stood
at this angle N, and glanced off into the ocean,
lantern foremost : he made his little hole in the
water within a yard of Captain Robarts. That
Dignity, though splashed, took no notice of so
small an incident as a gone ship-boy: and, if
Murphy had been wise and staid with Nep. all
had been well. But the poor urchin inadvert-
ently came up again, and without the lantern.
One of the gig's crew grabbed him by the hair,
and prolonged his existence, but without any
malicious intention.
"Where is the other lantern?" was Robarts's
first word on reaching the deck : as if he didn't
know.
"Gone overboard, Sir, with the boy Murphy."
"Stand forward you Sir!" growled Robarts.
Murphy stood forward, dripping and shivering
with cold and fear.
"What d'ye mean by going overboard with
the ship's lantern ?"
" Och your amr sure some unasy divil drooped
the port; and the lantern and me we had no
foothold at all at all, and the lantern went into
the say, bad luck to ut ; and I went afther to
try and save ut for your amr."
"Belay all that!" said Robarts; "do you
think you can blarney me, you young monkey ?
Here, Bosen's mate, take a rope's end and start
him ! Again ! Warm him well ! That's
right."
As soon as the poor child's shrieks subsided
into sobs, the disciplinarian gave him Explana-
tion for Ointment.
"I can't have the compant's stobes ex-
pended THIS WAY."
" The force of discipline could no farther go"
than to flog zeal for falling overboard : so, to
avoid anti-climax in that port, Robarts weighed
anchor at daybreak; and there was a south*
westerly breeze waiting for this favorite of for-
tune, and carried him past the Azores. Off
Ushant it was westerly ; and veered to the nor'-
west just before they \%Vk\&^ 3cka \asi^^ ^55A^\
never waa a\w^ a. tYiwmvsv?, ^fi.\^ ^^^ "^x
Cape. TView.V!LotNS[^xo^:^*^^^^^M-^^^'fc^^
90
VERY HARD CASH.
England first, nailed his starboard shoe to the
main-mast for contributions ; and all hearts beat
joyfully : none more than David Dodd's. His
eye devoured the beloved shore : he hugged the
treasure his own ill luck had jeopardized, but
Robarts had sailed it safe into British waters ;
and forgave the man his ill manners for his good
luck.
Robarts steered in for the Lizard ; but, when
abreast the point, kept well out again, and
opened the channel, and looked out for a pilot.
One was soon seen working out toward him,
and the Agra brought to ; the pilot descended
from his lugger into his little boat, rowed along-
side, and came on deck ; a rough, tanned sailor,
clad in flushing ; and in build and manner might
have passed for Robarts's twin brother.
" Now then, you Sir, what will you take this
ship up to the Downs for?'*
** Thirty pounds."
Robarts told him roughly he would not get
thirty pounds out of him,
"Thyse and no higher my Bo," answered the
pilot, sturdily: he had been splicing the main
brace, and would have answered an admiral.
Robarts swore at him lustily : Pilot discharged
a volley in return with admirable promptitude.
Robarts retorted, the other rough customer re-
joined, and soon all Billingsgate thundered on
the Agra's quarter-deck. Finding, to his infinite
disgust, his visitor as great a blackguard as him-
self, and not to be outswom, Robarts ordered
him to quit the ship on pain of being man-han-
dled over the side.
**0h, that is it, is it?" growled the other:
"here's fill and be off then." He prudently
bottled the rest of his rage till he got safe into
his boat : then shook his fist at the Agra, and
cursed her captain sky-high. " You see the fair
wind, but you don't see the channel fret a com-
ing, ye greedy gander. Downs ! You'll never
see them : you have saved your money, and
lost your ship, ye lubber."
Robarts hurled back a sugar-plum or two, and
then ordered Bayliss to clap on all sail, and keep
a midchannel course through the night.
At four bells in the middle watch Sharpe, in
charge of the ship, tapped at Robarts's door.
** Blowing hard. Sir, and the weather getting
thickish."
"Wind fair still?"
"Yes, Sir."
" Then call me if it blows any harder, "grunted
Robarts.
In two hours more, tap, tap, came Bayliss, in
charge. "If we don't take sail in, they'll take
themselves out."
"Furl to-gallan'sels, and call me if it gets any
worse."
In another hour Bayliss was at him again.
"Blowing a gale. Sir, and a channel fog on."
^^Reef taupsels, and call me if it gets any
worse."
At daybreak Dodd was on deck, and found
the ship flying through a fog so thick, that her
forecastle was invisible from the poop. and even
her foremast loomed indistinct and looked dis-
tant. "You'll be foul of something or other,
l^arpe," said he.
"What is that to you ?" inquired a loud rough
Toice behind him. * * 1 don't allow passengers to
.-iuuiWe my Bhip. " .
"Then do pray handle her yourself, captain 1
is this weather to go tearing happy-go-la^y up
the British Channel?"
" I mean to sail her without your advioOi Sir: '
and, being a seaman, I shall get all I can tnSbfH
a fair wind,"
" That is right. Captain Robarts ; if you htd
but the Channel all to yourself."
"Perhaps you will leave me my deck all to
myself."
"I should be delighted : but my anxiety will
not let me." With this Dodd retired a few
steps, and kept a keen look-out
At noon, a lusty voice cried "Land on the
WEATHER beam!"
All eyes were turned that way, and saw no-
thing.
Land in sight was reported to Captain Rob-
arts.
Now that worthy was in reality getting secret-
ly anxious: so he ran on deck crying, "Who
saw it?"
"Captain Dodd, Sir."
"Ugh! Nobody else?"
Dodd came forward, and, with a respectful
air, told him that, being on the look-out, he had
seen the coast of the Isle of Wight in a moment-
ary lift of the haze.
"Isle of Fiddlestick!" was the polite reply.
"Isle of Wight is eighty miles astern by now.**
Dodd answered firmly that he was weir ac-
quainted with every outline in the channel, and
the land he had seen was St. Catharine's point.
Robarts deigned no reply, but had the log
heaved: it showed the vessel to be running
twelve knots an hour. He then went to hb
cabin and consulted his chart; and, having
worked his problem, came hastily on deck, and
went from rashness to wonderful caution. "Turn
the hands out, and heave the ship to !"
The manoeuvre was executed gradually and
ably, and scarce a bucketful of water shipped.
' ' Furl taupsels and set the main try-sail ! There,
Mr. Dodd, so much for yon and your Isle oC
Wight. The land you saw was Dungeness, and
you would have run on into the North Sea, I'll
be bound."
When a man, habitually calm, turns anxious^
he becomes more irritable : and the mixture of
timidity and rashness he saw in Robarts made
Dodd very anxious.
He replied angrily : " At ail events I should
not make a foul wind out of a fair one by heav-
ing to ; and if I did, I would heave to on the
right tack."
At this sudden facer one, too, from a patient
man Robarts staggered a moment. He re-
covered, and, with an oath, ordered Dodd to go
below, or he would have him chucked into the
hold.
" Come, don't be an ass, Robarts," said Dodd,
contemptuously. Then, lowering his voice to a
whisper: "don't you know the men only want
such an order as that to chuck you into the sea?'*
Robarts trembled. " Oh, if you mean to head
a mutiny "
" Heaven forbid. Sir ! But I won't leave the
deck in dirty weather like this, till the captain
knows where he is."
Toward sunset it got clearer^ and they drifted
past a Revenue cutter, who was lying to with
VERY HARD CASH.
91
her head to the Northward. She hoisted no end
of signals, but they understood none of them ;
and her captain gesticulated wildly on her deck.
"What is that Fantoccini dancing at?*' in-
quired Robarts, brutally.
"To see a first-class ship drift to leeward in
a narrow sea, with a fair wind," said Dodd, bit-
terly.
At night It blew hard, and the sea ran high
and irregular. The ship began to be uneasy ;
and Robarts very properly ordered the top-
gallant and royal yards to be sent down on deck.
Dodd would have had them down twelve hours
ago. The mate gave the order : no one moved.
The mate went forward angry. He came back
pale. The men refused to go aloft : they would
not risk their lives for Captain Robarts.
The officers all assembled and went forward :
they promised and threatened ; but all in vain.
The crew stood sullen together, as if to back
one another, and put forward a spokesman to
say that " there was not one of them the captain
hadn't started, and stopped his grog a dozen
times : he had made the ship hell to them ; and
now her masts and yards and hull might go
there along with her skipper, for them."
Robarts received this tidings in sullen silence.
"Don't tell that Dodd, whatever you do," said
he. * * They will come round now they have had
their growl: they are too near home to shy away
their pay."
Robarts had not sufficient insight into char-
acter to know that Dodd would instantly have
sided with him against mutiny.
But at this juncture the ex-captain of the Agra
was down in the cabin with his fellow-passen-
gers preparing a general remonstrance : he had
a chart before him, and a pair of compasses in
his hand.
" St. Catharine's point lay about eight miles
to windward at noon; and we have been drifting
South and East this twelve hours, through lying
to on the starboard tack : and besides the ship
has been conned as slovenly as she is sailed. I've
seen her allowed to break off a dozen times, and
gather more leeway: ah, here is Captain Rob-
arts: Captain, you saw the rate we passed the
revenuo cutter. That vessel was nearly station-
ary ; so what we passed her at was our own rate
of drifting, and our least rate ; putting all this
together, we can't be many miles from the French
coast, and, unless we look sharp and beat to
windward, I pronounce the ship in danger."
A horse-laugh greeted this conclusion.
"We are nearer Yarmouth sands than France,
I promise you : and nothing under our lee near-
er than Rotterdam."
A loud cry from the deck above, "A light
ON THE LEE BOW !"
"There!" cried Robarts, with an oath: "foul
of her next ! through me listening to your non-
sense. He ran upon deck, and shouted through
his trumpet, "All hands wear ship !"
The crew, who had heard the previous cry,
obeyed orders in the presence of an immediate
danger : and perhaps their growl had really re-
lieved their ill humor. liobarts with delight
saw them come tumbling up, and gave his or-
ders Instfly :
" Brail np the tiysel I iTp with the helm ! in
with the weatfav main brace! square the after
yudsf"
The ship's bow turned from the wind, and, as
soon as she got way on her, Robarts ran below
again, and entered the cabin triumphant.
" That is all right ; and now. Captain Dodd, a
word with you : you will either retire at once to
your cabin, or will cease to breed disaffection in
my crew, and groundless alarm in my passengen^
by instilling your own childish, ignorant feun. .
The ship has been underlogged a hundred mile%
and but for my caution in lying to for clear
weather we should be groping among the Fern
isl "
Crash!
An unheard-of shock threw the speaker and all
the rest in a mass on the floor, smashed eveiy
lamp, put out every light: and with a fierce
grating noise, the ship was hard and fast on the
French coast, with her stem to the sea.
One awful moment of silence; then amidst
shrieks of agony, the sea struck her like a rolling
rock, solid to crush, liquid to drown : and the
comb of a wave smashed the cabin windows and
rushed in among them as they floundered on the
floor; and wetted and chilled them to the mar-
row; a voice in the dark cried, "Oh God! we
are dead men!"
CHAPTER XVn.
"On deck for your lives!" cried Dodd, for-
getting in that awful moment he was not the
captain; and drove them all up, Robarts in-
cluded, and caught hold of Mrs. Beresford and
Freddy at their cabin door and half carried them
with him. Just as they got on deck the third
wave, a high one, struck the ship and lifted her
bodily up, canted her round, and dashed her
down again some yards to leeward, throwing
them down on the hard and streaming deck.
At this tremendous shock the ship seemed a
live thing shrieking and wailing, as well as
quivering with the blow.
But one voice dissented loudly from the gen-
eral dismay. "All right, men," cried Dodd,
firm and trumpet-like. "She is broadside on
now. Captain Robarts, look alive, Sir ! Speak
to the men ! don't go to sleep !"
Robarts was in a lethargy of fear. At this ap-
peal he started into a fury of ephemeral courage :
" Stick to the ship," he yelled ; " there is no dan-
ger if yon stick to the ship," and with this snatch-
ed a life-buoy and hurled himself into the sea.
Dodd caught up the trumpet that fell from
his hand, and roared, "I command this ship.
Officers come round me! Men to your quar-
ters ! Come, bear a hand here, and fire a gun !
That will show us where we are, and let the
Frenchmen know."
The carronade was fired, and its momentary
flash revealed that the ship was ashore in a lit-
tle bay ; the land abeam was low and some eighty
yards off; but there was something black and
rugged nearer the ship's stem.
Their situation was awful. To windward
huge black waves rose like tremendous ruins and
came rolling, fringed with devouring fire ; and
each wave, as it charged them, curled up to an
incredible height and dashed down on the doom-
ed ship solid to crush, liquid to drown with a
ponderous stroke that made ^e poor souk &tai^
d2
VERY HARD CASH.
ger ; And sent a sheet of water so clean oyer her
that part fell to leeward, and only part came
down on deck, foretaste of a watery death ; and
each of these fearful blows drove the groaning,
trembling vessel farther on the sand, bumping
her along as if she had been but a skiff.
Now it was men showed their inner selves.
Seeing Death so near on one hand, and a
chance of escape on the other, seven men proved
unable to resist the two great passions of Fear
and Hope on a scale so gigantic, and side bj
side. Bayliss, a midshipman, and five sailors,
stole the only available boat and lowered her.
She was swamped in a moment.
Many of the crew got to the mm, and stupefied
themselves to their destruction.
Others rallied round their old captain, and re-
covered their native courage at the brave and
hopeful bearing he wore over a heart full of an-
guish. He worked like a horse, encouraging,
commanding, doing; he loaded a carronade
with 1 lb. of powder, and a coil of rope, with an
iron bar attached to a cable, and shot the rope
and bar ashore.
A gun was now fired from the guard-house,
whose light Robarts had taken for a ship. But,
no light being shown any nearer on the coast,
and the ship expected every minute to go to
pieces, Dodd asked if any one would try to swim
ashore with a line, made fast to a hawser on
board.
A sailor offered to go if any other man would
risk his life along with him. Instantly Fullalove
stripped, and Vespasian next.
**Two is enough on such a desperate errand,"
said Dodd, with a groan.
But now emulation was up, and neither Brit-
on, Yankee, nor negro would give way : a line
was made fast to the sailor's waist, and he was
lowered to leeward ; his venturesome rivals fol-
lowed. The sea swallowed those three heroes
like crumbs : and small was the Jiope of life for
them.
The three heroes, being first-rate swimmers
and divers, and going with the tide, soon near-
ed the shore on the ship's lee quarter; but a
sight of it was enough : to attempt to land on
that rock, with such a sea on, was to get their
skulls smashed like egg-shells in a moinent.
They had to coast it, looking out for a soft place.
They found one, and tried to land; but so
irresistible was the suction of the retiring wave,
that, whenever they got foot on the sand and
tried to run, they were wrenched out to sea
again, and pounded black and blue and breath-
less by the curling breaker they met coming in.
After a score of vain eftbrts, the negro, throw-
ing himself on his back, went in with a high
wave, and, on touching the sand, turned, dug
all his ten claws into it, clenched his teeth, and
scrambled like a cat at a wall: having more
power in his toes than the Europeans, and lucki-
ly getting one hand on a firm stone, his prodig-
ious strength just enabled him to stick fast while
the wave went back ; and then, seizing the mo-
ment, he tore himself ashore, but bleeding and
bruised all over, and with a tooth actually bro-
ken by clenching in the convulsive struggle.
He found som^ natives dancing about in vio-
lent agitation with
Fullalove washing in and out like a log. He
seized one end of the rope, dashed in and
grabbed his friend, and they were hauled ashore
together, both breathless, and Fullalove speech-
less.
The negro looked round for the sailor, but
could not see him. Soon, however, there was a
cry from some more natives about fifty yards off,
and lanterns held up ; away he dashed with the
rope, just in time to sec Jack make a last gallant
attempt to land. It ended in his being flung up
like a straw into the air on the very crest of a
wave fifteen feet high, and out to sea with his
arms whirling, and a death shriek which was
echoed by every woman within hearing.
In dashed Vespasian with the rope, and
gripped the drowning man's long hair with his
teeth : then jerked the rope, and they were both
pulled ashore with infinite difficulty. The good-
natured Frenchmen gave them all thiee lots of
vivats and brandy and pats on the f)ack; and
carried the line for them to a flag-staff on the
rocks nearer the stem of the ship.
The ship began to show the first signs of
breaking up: hammered to death by the sea,
she discharged the oakum from her opening
seams, and her decks began to gape and grin
fore and aft. Corpses of drunken sailors drowned
between decks now floated up amidships, and
washed and rolled about among the survivors*
feet. These, seeing no hope, went about making
up all quarrels, and shaking hands in token of a
^Christian end. One or two came to Dodd with
their hands out.
" Avast, ye lubbers !** said he, angrily ; "do
you think I have time for nonsense? Folksel
ahoy ! axes, and cut away the weather shrouds !'*
It was done : the foremast went by the board
directly, and fell to leeward : a few blows of the
axe from Dodd's own hand sent the main-mast
after it.
The Agra rose a streak ; and the next wave
carried her a little further inshore.
And now the man in charge of the hawser re-
ported with joy that there was a strain on -it.
This gave those on board a hope of life. Dodd
bustled and had the hawser carefully payed out
by two men, while he himself secured the other
end in the mizzen top : he had left that mast
standing on purpose.
There was no fog here ; but great heavy black
clouds flying about with amazing swiftness eX'
tinguished the moon at intervals : at others she
glimmered through a dull mist in which she was
veiled, and gave the poor souls on the Agra a
dim peep of the frail and narrow bridge they
must pass to live. A thing like a black snake
went down from the mizzen top, bellying toward
the yawning sea, and soon lost to sight : it was
seen rising again among some lanterns on the
rock ashore : but what became of it in the mid-
dle ? The darkness seemed to cut it in two ;
the sea to swallow it. Yet, to. _get from a ship
going to pieces under them, the sailors precipi-
tated themselves eagerly on that black thread
bellying to the sea and flickering in the wind.
They went down it, one after another, an^niix-
ious eyes straining after them saw them no more :
this
but
was seen, that scarce one in thxee
a rope, but afraid to go in . _ . _
^nd help liim; and no wonder, not being sea- 1 emerged into tki^ lights ashore,
guJis, By the light of their lanterns he saw! ThenXKddftotaTLa3:'&, MA'iftAVDLti t^
VERY HABD CASH.
and threatened to brain the first man who at-
tempted to go on the rope :
We must make it taut first,*' said he ; '* bear
a hand here with a tackle."
Even while this was being done, the other
rope, whose end he had fired ashore, was seen
moving to windward. The natives, it seems,
had found it, half buried in sand.
Dodd unlashed the end from the bulwarks
and carried it into the top, and made it fast:
and soon there were two black snakes dipping
shoreward and waving in the air side by side.
The sailors scrambled for a place, and some
of them were lost by their own rashness. Ken-
ealy waited coolly: and went by himself.
Finally, Dodd was left in the ship with Mr.
Sharpe and the women, and little Murphy, and
Bamgolam, whom Robartshad liberated to show
his contempt of Dodd.
He noij|^ advised Mrs. Beresford to be lashed
to Shar|i6 and himself, and venture the passage ;
but she screamed and clung to him, and said ''I
dare not, oh I dare not"
"Then I must lash you to a spar," said he,
"for she can't last much longer." He ordered
Sharpe ashore. Sharpe shook hands with him,
and went on the rope with tears in his eyes.
Dodd went hard to work, lashed Mrs. Beres-
ford to a piece of broken waterbutt : filled Fred's
pockets with corks and sewed them up (you nev-
er caught Dodd without a needle ; only, unlike
the women's, it was always kept threaded). Mrs.
Beresford threw her arms round his neck and
kissed him wildly : a way women have in mortal
peril : it is but their homage to courage. " All
right !" said Dodd, interpreting it as an appeal
to his protection, and affecting cheerfulness.
"We'll get ashore together on the poop awning,
or somehow ; never you fear. I'd give a thou-
sand pounds to know when high-water is."
At this moment, with a report like a cannon,
the lower decks burst fore and aft : another still
louder, and the Agra^s back broke. She parted
amidships with a fearful yawn, and the waves
went toppling and curling clean through her.
At this appalling sound and sight the few
creatures left on the poop cowered screaming
and clinging at Dodd's knees, and fought for a
bit of him.
Tes, as a fiood brings incongruous animals to-
gether on some little isle, in brotherhood of fear
creatures who never met before without one
eating the other ; and there they cuddle so the
thief Bamgolam clung to the man he had tried
to rob ; the Hindoo Ayah and the English maid
hustled their mistress, the haughty Mrs. Beres-
ford, and were hustled hj her, for a bit of this
human pillar, and little Murphy and Fred Beres-
ford wriggled in at him where they could : and
the poor goat crept into the quivering mass trem-
Uing like an aspen, and not a butt left either in
his head or his heart. Dodd stood in the middle
of these tremblers, a rock of manhood: and
when he was silent and they heard only the
Toice of the waves, they despaired : and, when-
ever he spoke, they started at the astounding
calmness of his voice, and words : and life sound-
ed possible.
"Come," said he, "this won't do any longer.
All h0nd8 ini^^ mizzen top !"
He b''-^^"^*" -11 up, and Btood on the rat-
fisfif J 'you will believe me, the
poor goat wailed like a child below. He found
in that new terror and anguish a voice goat was
never heard to speak in before. But they had
to leave him on deck: no help for it. Dodd
advised Mrs. Beresford once more to attempt
the rope: she declined. "I dare not! I dare
not I" she cried, but she begged Dodd hard to go
on it and save himself.
It was a strong temptation : he clutched the
treasure in his bosom ; and one sob burst from
the strong man.
That sob was but the tax paid by Nature ; for
Pride, Humanity, and Manhood stood stanch in
spite of it. "No, no, I can't:" said he; "I
mustn't. Don't tempt me to leave you in this
plight, and be a cur ! Live or die, I must be
the last man on her. Here's something coming
out to us, the Lord in Heaven be praised !"
A bright light was seen moving down the
black line that held them to the shore ; it de-
scended slowly within a foot of the billows, and
lighting them up showed their fearful proximity
to the rope in mid passage ; they had washed on
many a poor fellow at that part.
" Look at that I Thank Heaven vou did not
try itr said Dodd, to Mrs. Beresford.
At this moment a higher wave than usual
swallowed up the light : there was a loud cry of
dismay from the shore, and a wail of despair
from the ship.
No ! not lost after all ! The light emerged :
and mounted, and mounted toward the ship.
It came near, and showed the black shiny
body of Vespasian with very little on but a
handkerchief and a lantern, the former round
his waist, and the latter lashe^ to his back : he
arrived with a "Yah! yal^I" and showed his
white teeth in a grin.
Mrs. Beresford clutched hiS shoulder, and
whimpered, "Oh, Mr. Black!"
"Iss, Missy, dis child bring good news.
Capn ! Massah Fullalove send you his congratu-
lations, and the compliments of the season ; and
take the liberty to observe the tide am turn in
twenty minutes."
The good news thus quaintly announced,
caused an outburst of joy from Dodd, and, sail-
or-like, he insisted on all hands joining in a
cheer. The shore re-echoed it directly. And
this encouraged the forlorn band still more ; to
hear other hearts beating for them so near.
Even the intervening waves could not quite
annul the sustaining power of sympathy.
At this moment came the first faint streaks of
welcome dawn, and revealed their situation more
fully.
The vessel lay on the edge of a sand-bank.
She was clean in two, the stern lying somewhat
higher than the stem. The sea rolled through
her amidships six feet broad, frightful to look at ;
and made a clean breach over her forward, all
except the bowsprit, to the end of which three
poor sailors were now discovered to be clinging.
The after-part of the poop was out of water, and
in a comer of it the goat crouched like a rabbit :
four dead bodies washed about beneath the party
trembling in the mizzen top, and one had got
jammed in the wheel, face uppermost, and glared
up at them, gazing terror-stricken down.
No sign of tVi^ \\!^i \\XTKi\J, '^tx.*. xA Tcca.^
reason to feat \\. ^o\V^ \.\iTti \.oc\ift ^^-^ ^^^^
and the poor feWo^s ^\j:v?ri^^N3Qft^^^'^^^^^*
94
VERY HARD CASH.
These fears were well founded.
A huge sea rolled in, and turned the fore-part
of the vessel half over, buried the bowsprit, and
washed the men off into the breakers.
Mrs. Beresford sank down, and prayed, hold-
ing Vespasian by the knee.
Fortunately, as in that vessel wrecked long
syne on Mehta, '*the hind-part of the ship stuck
fast and remained immovable."
But for how long?
Each wave now struck the ship's weather
quarter with a sound like a cannon fii*ed in a
church, and sent the water clean into the mizzen
top. It hit them like strokes of a whip. They
were drenched to the skin, chilled to the bone,
and frozen to the heart with fear. They made
acquaintance that hour with Death. Ay, Death
itself has no bitterness that forlorn cluster did
not feel: only the insensibility that ends that
bitterness was wanting.
Now the sea, you must know, was literally
strewed with things out of the Ayra; masts,
rigging, furniture, tea-chests, bundles of canes,
chairs, tables: but, of all this jetsom, Dodd's
eye had been for some little time fixed on one
object : a live sailor drifting ashore on a great
wooden case : it struck him after a while that
the man made very little way ; and at last seemed
to go up and down in one place. By-and-by he
saw him nearer and nearer, and recognized him.
It was one of the three washed off the bowsprit.
He cried joyfully: "The tide has turned!
here's Thompson coming out to sea.''
Then there ensued a dialogue, incredible to
landsmen, between these two sailors, the cap-
tain of the ship and the captain of the foretop ;
one perched on a stationary fragment of that
vessel, the other drifting on a piano-forte ; and
both bawling at one another across the jaws of
death.
* * Thompson ahoy !"
*Hal-lo!"
"Whither bound?"
"Going out with the tide, and be d d to
me."
"What, can't ye swim?"
"Like a brass figure-head. It's all over with
poor Jack, Sir."
"All over? Don't tell me! Look out now
as you drift under our stem, and we'll lower
you the four-inch hawser."
" Lord bless you, Sir; do, pray!" cried Thomp-
son, losing his recklessness with the chance of
life.
By this time the shore was black with people,
and a boat was brought down to the beach, but
to attempt to launch it was to be sucked out to
sea.
At present all eyes were fixed on Thompson
drifting to destruction.
Dodd cut the four-inch hawser, and Vespa-
sian, on deck, lowered it with a line, so that
Thompson presently drifted right athwart it:
"All right. Sir!" said he, grasping it: and
amidst thundering acclamations was drawn to
land full of salt-water and all but insensible.
The piano landed at Dunkirk three weeks later.
In the bustle of this good and smart action,
the tide retired perceptibly.
By-and-by the sea struck lower and with less
freight.
At nine p.m. Dodd took his little party down
on deck again, being now the safest place ; for
the mast might go.
It was a sad scene : the deck was now dry,
and the dead bodies lay quiet round them, with
glassy eyes : and, grotesquely horrible, the long
hair of two or three was stifi' and crystallized
with the saltpetre in the ship.
Mrs. Beresford clung to Vespasian : she held
his bare black shotilder with one white and jew-
eled hand, and his wrist with the other, tight.
"Oh, Mr. Black," said she, "how brave you
are! It is incredible. Why you came back!
I must feel a brave man with both my hands, or
I shall die. Your skin is nice and soft too. I
shall never outlive this dreadful day."
And, now that the water was too low to wash
them oflf the hawser, several of the ship's com-
pany came back to the ship to help the women
down.
By noon the Agra^s deck was thirty feet from
the sand. The rescued ones wanted to break
their legs and necks ; but Dodd would not per-
mit even that. He superintended the whole ma-
noeuvre, and lowered, first the dead, then the
living, not omitting the poor goat, who was mo-
tionless and limp with fright.
When they were all safe on the sand, Dodd
stood alone upon the poop a minute, cheered by
all the sailors, French and English, ashore:
then slid down a rope and rejoined his compan-
ions.
To their infinite surprise, the undaunted one
was found to be sniveling.
"Oh dear, what is the matter?" said Mrs.
Beresford, tenderly.
"The poor Agra, ma'am! She was such a
beautiful sea-boat: and just look at her now!
Never sail again: never! never! She was a
little crank in beating, I can't deny it : but how
she did fly with the wind abaft! She sank a
pirate in the straits, and weathered a hurricane
off the Mauritius ; and after all for a lubber to
go and lay her bones ashore in a fair wind:
poor dear beauty."
He maundered thus, and kept turning back to
look at the wreck, till he happened to lay his
hand on his breast. He stopped in the middle
of his ridiculous lament, wore * a look of self-
reproach, and cast his eyes upward in heart-felt
gratitude.
The companions of so many adventures dis-
persed.
A hospitable mayoress entertained Mrs. Beres- ,
ford and suite : and she took to her bed ; for she
fell seriously ill as soon as ever she could do it
with impunity.
Colonel Kenealy went off to Paris : "I'll gain
that any way by being wrecked," said he.
If there be a lover of quadrupeds here, let
him know that Billy's weakness proved his
strength. Being brandied by a good-natured
French sailor, he winked his eye ; being bran- ,
died greatly he staggered up ; and butted his I
benefactor, like a man.
Fullalove had dry clothes and a blazing fire
ready for Dodd at a little rude auberge : he .
sat over it and dried a few bank-notes he had
loose about him, and examined his greater treas-
ure, his children's. The pocket-book was mudi
stained, but no harm whatever done to the con-
tents.
In tbie md&l oi \\i\s ^^[i'dlH shadow
X
VERY HARD CASH.
95
of an enormous head was projected right upon
his treasure.
Taming with a start he saw a face at the win-
dow ; one of those vile mugs which are found
to perfection among the canaille of the French
nation; bloated, blear-eyed, grizzly, and wild-
beast-like. The ugly thing, on being confront-
ed, passed slowly out of the sun, and Dodd
thought no more of it.
The owner of this sinister visage was Andre
Thibout, of whom it might be said, like face
like life; for he was one of those ill-omened
creatures who feed upon the misfortunes of
their kind, and stand on shore in foul weather
hoping the worst, instead of praying for the
best : briefly, a wrecker. He and his comrade,
Jacques Moinard, had heard the Agra's gun
fired, and come down to batten on the wreck :
but lo ! at the turn of the tide, there were gens
d*armes and soldiers lining the beach ; and the
Bayonet interposed between Theft and Misfor-
tune. So now the desperate jsair were prowling
about like hungry, baffled wolves, curses on their
lips, and rage at their hearts.
Dodd was extremely anxious to get to Bark-
ington before the news of the wreck; for oth-
erwise he knew his wife and children would suf-
fer a year's agony in a single day. The only
chance he saw was to get to Boulogne in time
to catch the Nancy sailing packet; for it was
her day. But then Boulogne was eight leagues
distant, and there was no public conveyance
going. Fullalove, entering heartily into his
feelings, was gone to look for horses to hire,
aided by the British Consul. The black hero
was up stairs clearing out with a pin two holes
that had fallen into decay for want of use.
G^iose holes were in his ears.
And now, worn out by anxiety and hard work,
Dodd began to nod in his chair by the fire.
He had not been long asleep when the hideous
face of Thibout reappeared at the window, and
watched him: presently a low whistle was ut-
tered outside, and soon the two rufiians enter-
ed the room, and, finding the landlady there as
well as Dodd, called for a little glass apiece of
absinthe: while drinking it they cast furtive
glances toward Dodd, and waited till she should
go about her business, and leave them alone
with him.
But the good woman surprised their looks, and,
knowing the character of the men, poured out a
cup of coffee from a great metal reservoir by the
fire, and waked Dodd without ceremony : " Voici
Totre cafe. Monsieur !" making believe he had
ordered it.
"Merci, madamel" replied he, for his wife
had taught him a little French.
*' One may sleep mal k propos," muttered the
woman in his ear. '* My man is at the fair, and
tikere are people here who are not worth any
great things."
Dodd rubbed his eyes and saw those two foul
faces at the end of the kitchen : for such it was,
though called salle k manger. *' Humph !** said
he ; and inltinctively buttoned his coat.
At that Thibout touched Moinard's knee un-
der the table.
FuUalove came in soon after, to say he had
got two honee, and thej would be here in a
"Well, but Vespasian, how is he to go?" in-
quired Dodd.
" Oh, we'll send him on ahead, and then ride
and tie."
" No, no," said Dodd, " I'll go ahead. That
will shake me up. I think I should tumble off
a horse; I'm so dead sleepy."
Accordingly he started to walk on the road to
Boulogne.
He had not been gone three minutes when
Moinard sauntered out.
Moinard had not been gone two minutes when
Thibout strolled out.
Moinard kept Dodd in sight, and Thibout kept
Moinard.
The horses were brought soon after ; but un-
fortunately the pair did not start immediately ;
though, had they known it, every moment was
precious. They wasted time in argument. Ves-
pasian had come down with a diamond ring in
one ear and a ruby in the other. Fnllalove saw
this retrograde step, and said, grimly: **Have
you washed but half your face, or is this a re-
turn to savagery ?"
Vespasian wore an air of offended dignity:
"No, Sar, these yar decorations come off a lady
ob i cibilization : Missy Beresford donated em
me. Says she, 'Massah Black' ^yah! yah! She
always nicknomnates dis child Massa Black
* while I was praying Goramighty for self and
pickaninny, I seen you out of one corner of my
eye admirationing my rings ; den just you take
em,' says dat ar aristocracy: 'for I don't ad-
mirationize em none; I've been shipwrecked.*
So I took em wid incredible condescension ; and
dat ar beautiful lady says to me, ' Oh, get along
wid your nonsense about colored skins ! I have
inspcctionatcd your conduct, Massah Black, and
likewise your performances on the slack rope,'
says she, 'in time of shipwreck : and dam me,'
says she, * but you are a man, you are.' * No,
Missy,' says I, superciliously, 'dis child am not
a man, if you please, but a colored gemman.' "
He added, he had put them in his ears because
the biggest would not go on his little finger.
FuUalove groaned. ' * And, of course, the next
thing, you'll ring your snout like a pig, or a
Patagonian; there, come along, ye darn'd
Anomaly."
He was going to say "Cuss," but remember-
ing his pupil's late heroic conduct, softened it
down to Anomaly.
But Vespasian always measured the force of
words by their length or obscurity. " Anomaly"
cut him to the heart : he rode off in moody si-
lence and dejection, asking himself sorrowfully
what he had done that such a mountain of vitu-
peration should fall on him. "Anomaly ! !"
They cantered along in silence ; for FuUalove
was digesting this new trait in his pupil ; aiid
asking himself could he train it out; or must he
cross it out. Just outside the town they met
Captain Robarts walking in; he had landed
three miles off down the coast. " Hallo !" said
FuUalove.
"I suppose you thought I was drowned?"
said Robarts, spitefully; "but you see I'm alive
still."
Fu\\a\ove Te^\\^^\ ^^^^, C,:^jNsiKCL\ "^^^^ ^a^
oiily ou^ mY&lskfi mox^^\ x^s^csoT
u
96
VERY HABD CASH.
About two English miles from the town thej
came to a long straight slope up and down, where
they could see a league before them ; and there
thej caught sight of David Dodd's tall figure
mounting the opposite rise.
Behind him at some little distance were two
men going the same way, but on the grass by the
road-side, whereas David was on the middle of
the road.
"He walks well for Jacky Tar!" said Fulla-
love.
" Iss Sar," said Vespasian, sulkily ; "but dis
*' analogy' tink he not walk so fast as those two
behind him, cos they catch him up.**
Kow Vespasian had hardly uttered these words,
when a thing occurred, so sudden and alarming,
that the speaker's eyes protruded, and he was
dumbfounded a moment ; the next a loud cry
burst from both him and his companion at once ;
and they lashed their horses to the gallop and
' went tearing down the hill in a fury of rage and
apprehension.
Mr. Fullalove was right, I think : a sailor is
seldom a smart walker ; but Dodd was a crick-
eter, you know, as well : he swung along at a
good pace, and in high spirits. He had lost no-
thing but a few clothes, and a quadrant, and a
chronometer ; it was a cheap wreck to him, and
a joyful one : for peril past is present delight.
He had saved his life ; and what he valued more,
his children's money. Never was that dear com-
panion of his perils so precious to him as now.
One might almost fancy that, by some strange
sympathy, he felt the immediate happiness of his
daughter depended on it. Many in my day be-
lieve that human minds can thus communicate,
overleaping material distances. Not knowing, I
can't sav. However, no such solution is really
needed here. All the members of a united and
loving family feel together, and work together
without specific concert though hemispheres lie
between : it is one of the beautiful traits of true
family afiection : now the Dodds, father, mother,
sister, brother, were more one in heart and love
than any other family I ever saw : woe to them
if they had not.
David, then, walked toward Boulogne that
afternoon a happy man. Already he tasted by
anticipation the warm caresses of his wife and
children, and saw himself seated at the hearth,
with those beloved ones clustering close round
4iim. How wotdd he tell them Its adventures
Its dangers from pirates Its loss at sea Its re-
covery Its wreck Its coming ashore dry as a
bone : and conclude by taking It out of his bo-
som, and dropping It in his wife's lap with cheer
boys cheer !
Trudging on in this delightful reverie, his ear
detected a pitapat at some distance behind him :
he looked round with very slight curiosity, and
saw two men coming up : even in that hasty
glance he recognized the foul face of Andre
Thibout: a face not to be forgotten in a day.
I don't know how it was, but he saw in a mo-
ment that face was after him to rob him : and
he naturally enough concluded It yras their ob-
ject.
And he was without a weapon ; and they were
doubtless armed. Indeed Thibout was swinging
a heavy cudgel.
JPoor Dodd*s mind went into a whirl, and his
body into a cold sweat. In such moments men
live a year. To gain a little time he walked
swiftly on, pretending not to have noticed them :
but oh his eyes roved wildly to each side of the
road' for a chance of escape. He saw none. To
his right was a precipitous rock; to his left a
profound ravine with a torrent below, and the
sides scantily clothed with fir-trees and bushes :
he was in fact near the top of a long rising
ground called " le mauvais cote," on account of
a murder committed there two hundred years
ago.
Presently he heard the men close behind him.
At the same moment he saw at the side of the
ravine a flint stone about the size of two fists:
he made but three swift strides, snatched it up,
and turned to meet the robbers, drawing himself
up high and showing fight in every inch.
The men were upon him. His change of
attitude was so sudden and fiery that they re-
coiled a step. But it was only for a moment :
they had gone too far to retreat; they divided,
and Thibout attacked him on his left with up-
lifted cudgel, and Moinard on his right with a
long glittering knife: the latter, to guard his
head from the stone, whipped off his hat and
held it before his head : "but Dodd was what is
called "left-handed:" "ambidexter" would be
nearer the mark ; he carved and wrote with his
right hand, heaved weights and flung cricket
balls with his left. He stepped forward, flung
the stone in Thibout's face with perfect precision,
and that bitter impetus a good thrower lends at
the moment of delivery : and almost at the same
moment shot out his right hand and caught
Moinard by the throat. Sharper and fiercer
collision was never seen than of these three.
Thibout's face crashed ; his blood squirted all
round the stone ; and eight yards off lay that
assailant on his back.
Moinard was more fortunate: he got two
inches of his knife into Dodd's left shoulder, at
the very moment Dodd caught him in his right-
hand vice. And now one vengeful hand of iron
grasped him felly by the throat ; another seized
his knife arm and twisted it back like a child's :
he kicked and struggled furiously : but in half a
minute the mighty English arm, and iron fingers,
held the limp body of Jacques Moinard, with its
knees knocking, temples bursting, throat relaxed,
eyes protruding, and livid tongue lolling down
to his chin : a few seconds more, and with the
same stalwart arm that kept his relaxed and
sinking body from falling, Dodd gave him one
fierce whirl round to the edge of the road, thea
put a foot to his middle, and spumed his carcass
with amazing force and fury down the precipice.
Crunch, crunch ! it plunged from tree to tree,
from bush to bush, and at lastroUed into a thick
bramble and there stuck in the form of a cres-
Qt. But Dodd had no sooner sent him head-
long by that mighty effort, than his own sight
darkened, his head swam, and, after staggering
a little way, he sank down in a state bordering
on insensibility.
Meantime Fullalove and Vespasian were gaL
loping down the opposite hill to his i^scue.
Unfortunately Andrd Thibout was not dead ;
nor even mortally wounded. He was struck on
the nose and mouth : that nose was flat for the
rest of his life, and half his front teeth were bat-
tered out of their sockets : but heJIilL not from
y
VERY HARD CASH.
97
the brain being stunned, but the body driven to
earth by the mere physical force of so moment-
ons a blow : knocked down like a nine-pin. He
now sat up bewildered, and found himself in a
pool of blood, his own. He had little sensation
of pain ; but he put his hand to his face and
found scarce a trace of his features; and his
hand came away gory. He groaned.
Rising to his feet, he saw Dodd sitting at
some distance : his first impulse was to fly from
so terrible an antagonist : but, as he made for
the ravine, he observed that Dodd was in a help-
less condition: wounded perhaps by Moinard.
And where was Moinard ?
Nothing visible of him but his knife : that lay
glittering in the road.
Thibout, with anxious eye turned toward
Dodd, kneeled to pick it up : and in the act a
drop of his own blood fell on the dust beside it.
He snarled like a wounded tiger ; spat out half
a dozen teeth : and crept on tip-toe to his safe
revenge.
Awake from your lethargy, or you are a dead
man!
No. Thibout got to him unperceived, and the
knife glittered over his head.
At this moment the air seemed to fill with
clattering hoofs and voices, and a pistol-shot
rang. Dodd heard and started, and so saw his
peril. He put up his left hand to parry the blow ;
but feebly. Luckily for him Thibout's eyes were
now turned another way, and glaring with stu-
pid terror out of his mutilated visage : a gigantic,
mounted fiend, with black face and white gleam-
ing, rolling eyes, was coming at him like the
wind, uttering horrid howls ; Thibout launched
himself at the precipice with a shriek of dismay,
and went rolling after his comrade : but, ere he
had gone ten yards, ho fell across a young larch-
tree, and hung balanced. Up came the foaming
horses: Fullalove dismounted hastily and fired
three deliberate shots down at Thibout from his
revolver. He rolled off, and never stopped again
till he splashed into the torrent, and lay there,
staining it with blood from his battered face and
perforated shoulder.
Vespasian jumped off, and with glistening eyes
administered some good brandy to Dodd. He,
nnconscious of his wound, a slight one, relieved
their anxiety by assuring them somewhat faintly
he was not hurt, but that, ever since that *Hap
on the head" he got in the Straits of Gaspar,
any angry excitement told on him, made his
head swim, and his temples seem to swell from
the inside :
'51 should have come off second best but for
joo, my dear friends. Shake hands over it, do I
Oh, Lord bless you ! Lord bless you both ! As
for you, Vespasian, I do think you are my guard-
ian angel. Why, this is the second time you've
saved It. No, it isn't: for it's the third."
"Now you git along, Massa Capn," said Ves-
pasian. ''Tou beiy good man, ridicalous good
man : and dis child am't no gardening angel at
all ; he ar a darned Anatomy" (with such a look
of offended dignity at Fullalove).
After examining the field of battle, and com-
paring notes, they mounted Dodd on Vespasian's
horse, and walked quietly till Dodd's head got
better ; and then they cantered on three abreast,
Vespasian in the middle with one sinewy hand
on each horse'ii mane ; and such was his mus-
cular power that he often relieved his feet by
lifting himself clean into the air : and the rest
of the time his toe but touched the ground : and
he sailed like an ostrich : and grinned and chat-
tered like a monkey.
Sad to relate neither Thibout nor Moinard
was ended. The guillotine stood on its rights.
Meantime, what was left of them crawled back
to the town stiff and sore ; and supped together
Moinard on liquids only and vowed revenge
on all wrecked people.
The three reached Boulogne in time for the
Nancy, and put Dodd on board : the pair decided
to go to the Yankee Paradise Paris.
They parted with regret and tenderly like old
tried friends; and Vespasian told Dodd, with
the tears in his eyes, that, though he was in point
of fact only a darned Anemone, he felt like a
colored Gremman at parting from his dear old
Captain.
The master of the Nancy knew Dodd well,
and gave him a nice cot to sleep in. He tum-
bled in with a bad headache, and quite worn
out; and never woke for fifteen hours. And
when he did wake he was safe at Barkington.
He and It landed on the quay. He made for
home.
On the way he passed Hardie's Bank ; a firm
synonymous in his mind with the Bank of En-
gland.
A thrill of joy went through him. Now It
was safe. When he first sewed It on in China,
It seemed secure nowhere except on his own
person. But, since then, the manifold perils by
sea and land It had encountered through being
on him, had caused a strong reaction in his mind
on that point. He longed to see It safe out of
his own hands, and in good custody.
He made for Hardie's door with a joyful rush,
waved his cap over his head in triumph, and en-
tered the Bank with It.
Ahl
CHAPTER XVm.
Chronology.
The Hard Cash sailed from Canton months
before the boat-race at Henley recorded in Chap- "
ter I. ; but it landed in Barkington -a fortnight
after the last home event I recorded in its true
series. Chapter IX.
Now this fortnight, as it happens, was fruit-
ful of incidents; and must be dealt with at
once. After that, "Love" and "Cash," the
converging branches of this story, will flow to-
gether in one stream.
Alfred Hardie kept faith with Mrs. Dodd,
and, by an effort she appreciated, forbore to ex-
press his love for Julia except by the pen. He
took in Lloyd's shipping news, and got it down
by rail in hopes there would be something about
the Agra : then he could call at Albion Villa ;
Mrs. Dodd had given him that loop-hole : mean-
time he kept hoping for an invitation: which
never came.
Julia was now comparatively happy : and so
indeed was Alfred: but then the male of our
species likes to be superlatively happy, not com-
paratively ; and that Mrs. Dodd forgot, or per-
haps had' not observed.
98
VERY HARD CASH.
One day Sampson was at Albion Villa, and
Alfred knew it. Now, though it was a point of
honor with poor Alfred not to hang about after
Julia until her father's return, he had a perfect
right to lay in wait for Sampson, and hear some-
thing about her; and he was so deep in love
that even a word at second hand from her lips
was a drop of dew to his heart.
So he strolled up toward the Villa. He had
nearly reached it, when a woman ran past him
making the most extraordinary sounds; I can
only describe it as screaming under her breath.
Though he only saw her back he recognized Mrs.
Maxley. One back dififereth from another, what-
ever you may have been told to the contrary in
novels and plays. He called to her : she took no
notice, and darted wildly into the gate of Albion
Villa. Alfred's curiosity was' excited, and he
ventured to put his head over the gate. But
Mrs. Maxley had disappeared.
Alfred had half a mind to go in and inquire
if any thing was the matter ; it would be a good
excuse.
While he hesitated, the dining-room window
was thrown violently up, and Sampson looked
out: "Hy! Hardie! my good fellow I for Heav-
en's sake a fiy ! and a fast one !"
It was plain something very serious had oc-
curred : so Alfred flew toward the nearest fly-
stand. On the way he fell in with a chance fly
drawn up at a public house ; he jumped on the
box and drove rapidly toward Albion Villa.
Sampson was hobbling to meet him he had
sprained his ankle, or would not have asked for
a conveyance to save time he got up beside
Alfred, and told him to drive hard to Little
Friar Street. On the way he explained hur-
riedly: Mrs. Maxley had burst in on him at
Albion Villa to say her husband was dying in
torment: and indeed the symptoms she gave
were alarming, and, if correct, looked very like
lock-jaw : but her description had been cut short
by a severe attack, which choked her and turn-
ed her speechless and motionless, and white to
the very lips :
" *Oho,' sis I, *Brist-pang!' And at such a
time, ye know. But these women are as unsea-
sonable as th* are unreasonable. Now Angina
pictoris, or brist-pang, is not curable through
the lungs, nor the stomic, nor the liver, nor the
stays, not the sauce-pan, as the bunglintinkerin-
dox of the schools pretind; but only through
that mighty mainspring the Brain : and instid
of going meandering to the Brain round by the
stomick, and so giving the wumman lots o' time
to die first, which is the scholastic practice, I
wint at the Brain direct, took a puff^ o' chlorofm,
put m' arm round her neck, laid her back in a
chair she didn't struggle, for, when this dis-
orrder grips ye, ye can't move hand nor foot
and had my lady into the land of Nod in half a
minute ; thin oiF t* her husband ; so here's th'
Healer between two stools spare the whip-cord,
spoil the knacker ! it would be a good joke if I
was to lose both pashints for want of a little
ubeequity, wouldn't it ? Lash the lazy vagabin !
^Not that I care : what interest have I in their
lives ? they never pay : but ye see custom's sec-
ond nature ; an di've formed a rile habit ; I've
got to be a Healer among the killers: an d'a
Triton among the millers : here we are at last.
Siren he praised,** And he hopped into the
house faster than most people can run on a
good errand. Alfred flung the reins to a cad,
and followed him.
The room was nearly full of terrified neigh-
bors : Sampson shouldered them all roughly out
of his way ; and there, on a bed, lay Maxley's
gaunt figure in agony.
His body was drawn up by the middle into an
arch, and nothing touched the bed but the head
and the heels : the toes were turned back in the
most extraordinary contortion, and the teeth set
by the rigor of the convulsion ; and in the man's
white face and fixed eyes were the horror and
anxiety that so often show themselves when the
body feels itself in the gripe of Death.
Mr. Osmond the surgeon was there : he had
applied a succession of hot cloths to the pit of
the stomach, and was trying to get laudanum
down the throat ; but the clenched teeth were
impassable.
He now looked up and said politely: "Ah!
Dr. Sampson, I am glad to see you here. The
seizure is of a cataleptic nature, I apprehend.
The treatment hitherto has been hot epithems to
the abdomen, and '*
Here Sampson, who had examined the patient
keenly, and paid no more attention to Osmond
than to a fly buzzing, interrupted him as uncere-
moniously :
"Poisoned," said he, philosophically.
"Poisoned ! !" screamed the people.
"Poisoned !" cried Mr. Osmond, in whose lit-
tle list of stereotyped maladies poisoned had no
place. "Is there any one you have reason to
suspect?"
"I don't suspect, nor conject. Sir: I know.
The man is poisoned; the substance strych-
nine; now stand out of the way you gaping
gabies, and let me work: by, young Oxford!
you are a man : get behind and hold both his
arms, for your life ! That's you."
He whipped off his coat: laid hold of Os-
mond's epithems, chucked them across the room,
saying, "You might just as well squirt rose-
water at a house on fire ;" drenched bis hand-
kerchief with chloroform, sprang upon the pa-
tient like a mountain cat, and chloroformed him
with all his might.
Attacked so skillfully and resolutely, Maxley
resisted little for so strong a man ; but the po-
tent poison within fought virulently : as a proof,
the chloroform had to be renewed three times
before it could produce any eflfect. At last the
patient yielded to the fumes, and became insens-
ible.
Then the arched body subsided, and the rigid
muscles relaxed and turned supple. Sampson
kneaded the man like dough, by way of cpm^
ment.
" It is really very extraordinary," said Osmond.
* * Mai dearr Sirr nothing's extraomaty ;
t' a man that knows the reason of ivery thing.^'
He then inquired if any one in the room had
noticed at what intervals of time the pains came
on.
"I am sorry to say it is continuons," said
Osmond.
" Mai dearr Sirr nothing on airth is coiu
tinuous : ivery thing has paroxysms and remis-
sions ^from a toothache t' a cancer."
He repeated his query in various forms, till at
last a little girl squeaked out : " If yov ^please^
VERY HARD CASH.
99
Sir, the throes do come about every ten minutes,
for I was a looking at the clock ; I carries fa-
ther his dinner at twelve.'*
**If you please, ma'am, there's half a guinea
for you for not bein such a n' ijjit as the rest of
the world, especially the Dockers." And he
jerked her half a sovereign.
A stupor fell on the assembly. They awoke
from it to examine the coin, and see tf it was
real ; or only yellow air.
Maxley came to, and p:ave a sigh of relief.
When he had been sensible, yet out of pain,
nearly eight minutes by the clock, Sampson
chloroformed him again. "I'll puzzle ye, my
friend strych," said he. " How will ye get your
perriodical paroxysm when the man is insensi-
ble ? The Dox say y' act direct on the spinal
marrow. Well, there's the spinal marrow where
you found it just now. Act on it again, my lad !
I give ye leave if ye can. Ye can't ; bekase ye
must pass through the Brain to get there : and
I occupy the Brain with a swifter ajint than y'
are, and mean to keep y' out of it till your pow-
er to kill evaporates, been avigitable."
With this his spirits mounted, and he in-
dulged in a harmless and favorite fiction: he
feigned the company were all males and medical
students, Osmond included, ^and he the lecturer :
" Now jintlemen,*' said he,'**obsairve the great
Therey of the Ferriodeecity and Remittency of
all disease; in conjunckshin with its practice.
All diseases have paroxysms, and remissions,
which occur at intervals ; sometimes it's a year,
sometimes a day, an hour, ten minutes: but
whatever th' interval, they are true to it : they
keep time. Only when the Disease is retirin,
the remissions become longer, the paroxysms re-
turn at a greater interval : and just the revairse
when the pashint is to die. This, jintlemen, is
man's life from the womb to the grave : the
throes that precede his birth are remittent like
ivery thing else, but come at diminished inter-
vals when he has really made up his mind to
be bom (his first mistake, jints, but not his
last) ; and the paroxysms of his mortal disease
come at shorter intervals when he is really goen
off the hooks : but still chronometrically ; just
as watches keep time whether they go fast or
slow. Now jintlemen, isn't this a beautiful
Therey?'*
" Oh mercy ! Oh good people help me ! Oh
Jesus Christ have pity on me !'* And the suf-
ferer's body was bent like a bow, and his eyes
filled with horror, and his toes pointed at his
chin.
The Doctor hurled himself on the foe :
" Come,'* said he, " smell to this, lad ! That*s
Tight! He is better already, jintlemen, or he
couldn't howl, ye know. Deevil a howl in um
before I gave um puff chlorofm. Ah I would
ye? would ye?**
"Oh! oh! oh! oh! ugh! ah!"
The Doctor got off the insensible body, and
resumed his lecture calmly, like one who has
disposed of some childish interruption ; " and
now to th' application of the Therey: if the
poison can reduce the tin minutes* interval to five
minutes, this pashint will die : and if I can get
the tin minutes up t* half an hour, this pashint
will live. Any way, jintlemen, we won*t detain
y' unreasonably : the case shall be at an end by
one o*clock."
On hearing this considerate stipulation, up
went three women's aprons to their eyes.
"Alack! poor James Maxley! he is at his
last hour : it be just gone twelve, and a dies at
one."
Sampson turned on the weepers : "Who says
that, y' ijjits ? I said the case would end at one :
a case ends when the pashint gets well, or dies."
"Oh, that is good news for poor Susan Max-
ley ; her man is to be well by one o'clock. Doc-
tor says."
Sampson groaned, and gave in. He was
strong, but not strong enough to make the pop-
ulace suspend an opinion.
Yet it might be done : by chloroforming them.
The spasms came at longer intervals and less
violent : and Maxley got so fond of the essence
of Insensibility, that ho asked to have some in
his own hand to apply at the first warning of
the horrible pains.
Sampson said, "Any fool can complete the
cure:" and, by way of practical comment, left
him in Mr. Osmond's charge : but with an un-
derstanding that the treatment should not be
varied: that no laudanum should be given : but,
in due course, a stiff tumbler of brandy-and-wa-
ter ; or two. "If he gets drunk, all the better ;
a little intoxication weakens the body's memory
of the pain it has endured, and so expedites the
cure. Now off we go to th* other."
"The body's memory!" said Mr. Osmond to
himself: "What on earth does the Quack
mean?"
The driver, de jure, of the fly, was not quite
drunk enough to lose his horse and vehicle with-
out missing them. He was on the look-out for
the robber, and, as Alfred came round the corner
full pelt, darted at the reins with a husky remon-
strance, and Alfred cut into him with the whip :
an angry explanation a guinea and behold
the driver sitting behind complacent, and nod-
ding.
Arriving at Albion Villa, Alfred asked Samp-
son submissively if he might come in and see the
wife cured.
" Why of course,'* said Sampson, not knowing
the delicate position.
"Then ask me in before Mrs. Dodd," mur-
mured Alfred, coaxingly.
"Oo, ay," said the Doctor, knowingly: "I
see."
Mrs. Maxley was in the dining-room : she had
got well of herself: but was crying bitterly, and
the ladies would not let her go home yet ; they
feared the worst, and that some one would blurt
it out to her.
To this anxious trio entered Sampson radiant :
"There, it's all right. Come, little Maxley, ye
needn't cry, he has got lots more mischief to do
in the world yet : but, oh, wumman, it is lucky
you came to me and not to any of the tinkering ,
dox. No more cat and dog for you and him, but
for the Chronothairmal Therey : and you may
bless my puppy's four bones too: he ran and
stole a fly like a man, and drove hilter skilter :
now, if I had got to your house two minutes -
later, your Jamie would have lamed the great
secret ere this.** He threw up the window.
"Haw you! come away and receive the ap-
plause due from beauty t' ajeelity.'*
Alfred came in timidly, and was received with
perfect benignity and self-possession by Mre^
100
VERY HABD CASH.
Dodd ; but Julia's face was dyed with bloshes,
and her eyes sparkled the eloquent praise she
was ashamed to speak before them all. .Bat
such a face as hers scarce needed the help of a
Toice at such a time. And, indeed, both the
lovers* faces were a pretty sight, and a study.
How they stole loving glances ! bat tried to keep
within boands, and not steal more than three
per minate ! and how unconscioas they endeav-
ored to look, the intervening seconds ! and what
wiqdows were the demure complacent visages
they thought they were making shutters of!
Innocent love has at least this advantage over
melodramatic, that it can extract exquisite sweet-
ness out of so small a thing. These sweet-hearts
were not alone, could not open their hearts, most
not even gaze too long ; yet to be in the same
room even on such terms was a taste of heaven.
"But, oh. Doctor," said Mrs. Maxley, "are
you sure he is better?"
" He is out of danger, I tell ye."
"But, dear heart, ye don't tell me what he
ailed. Ma*am, if you had seen him you would
have said he was taken for death."
"Pray what is the complaint?" inquired Mrs.
Dodd.
"Oh, didn't I tell ye? poisoned."
This intelligence was conveyed with true sci-
entific calmness, and received with feminine
ejaculations of horror. Mrs. Maxley was indig-
nant into the bargain : " Don't ye go giving my
house an ill name ! We keeps no poison."
Sampson fixed his eyes sternly on her : "Wum-
man, ye know better: ye keep strychnine: for
th' use an delectation of your domistic animal."
"Strychnine! I never heard tell of it. Is
that Latin for arsenic?"
"Now isn't this lamentable? Why arsenic
is a mital: strychnine a vigitable. Nlist me!
Your man was here seeking strychnine to pois-
on his mouse; a harmless, domistic, necessary
mouse : I told him mice were a part of Nature
as much as Maxleys, and life as sweet tit as tim :
but he was dif to sceintific and chrischin pre-
ceps ; so I told him to go to the Deevil : * I will,*
sis he, and went t'a docker. The two assassins
have poisoned the poor beastie between em : and
thin, been the greatest miser in the world, ex-
cept one, he will have roasted his victim, and
ate her on the sly, imprignated with strychnine.
'I'll steal a march on t'other miser,' sis he ; and
that's you : t' his brain flew the strychnine : his
brain sint it to his spinal marrow : and we found
my lorrd bent like a bow, and his jaw locked,
and nearer knowin* the great secret than any
man in England will be this year to live : and
sairvcs th' assassinating old vagabin right. '^
"Heaven forgive you. Doctor," said Mrs.
Maxley, half mechanically.
" For curin a murrderer ? Not likely."
Mrs. Maxley, who had shown signs of singu-
lar uneasiness during Sampson's explanation,
now rose and said in a very peculiar tone she
must go home directly.
Mrs. Dodd seemed to enter into hfir feelings,
and made her go in the fly, taking care to pay
the fare and the driver out of her own purse.
As the woman got into the fly Sampson gave
her a piece of friendly and practical advice.
"Nixt time he has a mind to breakfast on
strychnine, you tell me; and I'll put a pinch
of arsenic in the a]t-cellar, and cure him st^e
I as the Bank. But this time he'd have been
': did, and stiff, long before such a slow ajint as
arsenic could get a hold on nm."
They sat down to luncheon : but neither Al-
fred nor Julia fed much, except upon sweet
stolen looks ; and soon the active Sampson
jumped up, and invited Alfred to go round his
patients. Alfred could not decline, but made
his adieux with regret so tender, and undis-
guised, that Julia's sweet eyes filled, and her
soft hand instinctively pressed his at parting to
console him. She blushed at herself afterward ;
but at the time she was thinking only of him.
Maxley and his wife came up in the evening
with a fee. They had put their heads together;
and profiered one guinea. " Man and wife be
one flesh, you know. Doctor."
Sampson, whose natural choler was constant-
ly checked by his humor, declined this profuse
proposal. " Here's vanity 1" said he : '* now do
you really think your two lives are worth a
guinea? Why it's 262 pence! 908 farthings!"
The pair affected disappointment ; vilely.
At all events he must accept this basket of
gudgeons Maxley had brought along. Being
poisoned was quite out of Maxley's daily rou-
tine, and had so unsettled him, that he had got
up, and gone fishing to the amazement of th^
parish.
Sampson inspected the basket: "Why they
are only fish!" said he, "I was in hopes they
were pashints." He accepted the gudgeons,
and inquired how Maxley got poisoned. It
came out that Mrs. Maxley, seeing her hus-
band set apart a portion of his Welsh rabbit,
had "grizzled," and asked what that was for:
and being told "for the mouse," and to ''mind
her own business," had grizzled still more, and
furtively conveyed a portion back into the pan
for her master's own use. She had been quak-
ing dismally all the afternoon at what she had
done ; but finding Maxley hard but just did
not attack her for an involuntary fault, she now
brazened it out and said, " Men didn't ought to
have poison in the house unbeknown to their
wives. Jem had got no more than he worked
for," etc. But, like a woman, she vowed venge-
ance on the mouse : whereupon Maxley threat-
ened her with the marital correction of neck-
twisting, if she laid a finger on it
" My eyes be open now to what a poor creat-
ure do feel as dies poisoned. Let her a be:
there's room in our place for her and we."
Next day he met Alfred, and thanked him
with warmth, almost with emotion : "There ain't
many in Barkinton as ever done me a good turn,
Master Alfred ; you be one on em : you comes
after the captain in my book now."
Alfred suggested that his claims were humble
compared with Sampson's.
"No, no," said Maxley, going down to his
whisper, and looking monstrous wise : " Doctor
didn't go out of Ats business for me : you did."
The sage miser's gratitude had not time to die
a natural death before circumstances occurred
to test it. On the morning of that eventful day,
which concluded my last chapter, he received a
letter from Canada. His wife was out with
eggs ; so he caught little Hose Sutton, that had
more than once spelled an epistle for him ; and
she read it out in a loud and reckless whine :
VERY HARD CASH.
101
** * At noon this ^rery dale Muster
Bardie's a-g-e-n-t aguent- d-i-s dis, h-o-n
Honorecf dis-Honorerf a bill ; and sayed.
There were no more asses/ "
*' Mercy on ns ! Bat it can't be asses, wench :
drivQ your spe-ad into't again."
" * A-8-s-e-t-8. Assets. ' "
"Ah! Goan! goanl"
" * Now Fatther if yon leave a s-h-i-l-
1-i-n-g, shilling at Hardie's after this
b-1-a-m-e ble-am ^your self not ^me for
this is ^the waie the r-o-g-u-e-s rogews
^all bre-ak they go at a d-i-s^-a-n-c-e
distance first and then at h-o-m-e
whuoame. Dear fatther' lawk o' daisy what
ails you, Daddy Maxley ? Ton be as white as
a Sunday smock. Be you poisoned, again, if
you please ?"
** Worse than that ^worse !" groaned Maxley,
trembling all over. * * Hush I hold your tongue !
Give me that letter ! Don't you never tell nobody
nothing of what you have been a reading to me,
and I'll I'll It's only Jem's fun : he is alius
running his rigs that's a good wench now, and
I'll give ye a half-penny."
**La, Daddy," said the child, opening her
eyes, " I never heeds what I re-ads : 1 be wrapt
np in the spelling. Dear heart, what a sight of
long words folks puts in a letter, more than ever
cbrops out of their mouths ; which their fingers
be longer than their tongues I do suppose."
Maxley hailed this information characteristic-
ally. '^ Then we'll say no more about the half-
penny."
At this. Rose raised a lamentable cry, and
pearly tears gushed forth.
"There, there," said Maxley, deprecatingly ;
" here's two apples for ye ; ye can't get them for
less : and a half-penny, or a haporth, is all one
to yon : but it is a great odds to me. And ap-
ples they rot ; half-pence don't."
It was now nine o'clock. The Bank did not
open till ten ; but Maxley went and hung about
the door, to be the first applicant.
As he stood there trembling with fear lest the
Bank should not open at all, he thought hard :
and the result was a double resolution ; he would
have his money out to the last shilling ; and, this
done, would button up his pockets and padlock
his tongue. It was not his business to take care
of his neighbors ; nor to blow the Hardies, if
they paid him his money on demand. "So not
a word to my missus, nor yet to the town-crier,"
said he.
Ten o'clock struck, and the Bank shutters re-
mained np. Five minutes more, and the watcher
was in agony. Three minutes more, and up
came a boy of sixteen, whistling, and took down
the shutters with an indifierence that amazed
him. *' Bless your handsome face ;" said Max-
ley, with a sigh of relief.
He now snmmoned all his firmness and, hav-
ing recourse to an art, in which these shrewd
rustics are supreme, made his face quite inex-
pressive, and so walked into the Bank, the ev-
eryday Maxley externally ; but, within, a vol-
cano ready to burst if there should be the slight-
est hesitation to pay him his money.
" Good - morning, Mr. Maxley," said yonng
Skinner.
"Good-morning, Sir."
"What can we do for yon?"
" Oh, I'll wait my turn, Sir."
"Well, it's your turn now, if you like."
" How much have you got of mine, if you
please. Sir?"
" Your balance ? I'll see. Nine hundred and
four pounds."
"Well, Sir, then, if yo please, I'll draa thaC
"It has come!" thought Skinner. "What,
going to desert us ?" he stammered.
"No," said the other, trembling inwardly, but
not moving a facial muscle: "it is only for a
day or two, Sir."
"Ah! I see; going to make a purchase.
By-the-by, I believe Mr. Hardie means to oflfer
you some grounds he is buying outside the town :
will that suit your book ?"
"I dare say it will. Sir."
" Then perhaps you will wait till our governor
comes in ?"
"I have no objection."
"He won't be long. Fine weather for the
gardens, Mr. Maxley."
" Moderate, Sir. I'll take my money, if yon
please. Counting of it out, that will help pass
the time till Muster Hardie comes. You han't
made away with it ?"
"What d'ye mean. Sir?"
"Hardies baint turned thieves, be they?"
" Are you mad, or intoxicated, Mr. Maxley ?"
"Neither, Sir: but I wants my own: and I
wool have it too: so count out on this here
counter, or I'll cry the town round that there
door."
" Henry, score James Maxley's name off the
books," said Skinner, with cool dignity. But,
when he had said this, he was at his wit's end :
there were not nine hundred pounds of hard cash
in the Bank; nor any thing like it.
CHAPTER XIX.
Skinner called "young" because he had
once had a father on the premises ^was the
mole-catcher. The feelings with which he had
now for some months watched his master grub-
bing were curiously mingled. There was the
grim sense of superiority every successful De-
tective feels as he sees the watched one working
away unconscious of the eye that is on him;
but this was more than balanced by a long hab-
it of obsequious reverence. When A has been
looking up to B for thirty years, he can not
look down on him all of a sudden, just because
he catches him falsifying accounts. Why, man
is a cooking animal. Commercial man espe-
cially.
And then Richard Hardie overpowered Skin-
ner's senses : he was Dignity in person : he was
six feet two, and always wore a black surtout
buttoned high, and a hat with a brim a little
broader than his neighbors, yet not broad enough
to be eccentric or slang. He moved down the
street touching this hat while other hats were
lifted high to him a walking column of cash.
And when he took of this ebon crown, and sat
in the Bank parlor, he gained in appearance
more than he lost ; for then his whole head was
seen, long, calm, majestic : that senatorial front,
and furrowed face, overawed all comers : even
the little sharp-faced derk would staxvd !q&L\rs3^
102
VERY HARD CASH.
at it, utterly puzzled between what he knew and
what he eyed : nor could he look at that head
and face without excusing them ; what a lot of
money they must have sunk, before they came
down to fabricating a balance-sheet !
And by-and-by custom somewhat blunted his
sense of the dishonesty : and he began to criticise
the thing arithmetically instead of morally ; that
view once admitted, he was charmed with the
ability and subtlety of his dignified sharper : and
so the mole-catcher began gradually, but efect-
ually, to be corrupted by the mole. He, who
watches a dishonest process and does not stop it,
is half-way toward conniving ; who connives, is
half. way toward abetting.
The next thing was, Skinner felt mortified at
his master not trusting him. Did he think old
Bob Skinner's son would blow on Hardie after
all these years ?
This rankled a little, and set him to console
himself by admiring his own cleverness in pene-
trating this great distrustful man. Now of all
sentiments Vanity is the most restless and the
surest to peep out : Skinner was no sooner in-
flated than his demure, obsequious manner un-
derwent a certain change ; slight and occasional
only; but Hardie was a subtle man, and the
perilous path he was treading made him wonder-
fully watchful, suspicious, and sagacious: he
said to himself, "What has come to Skinner?
I must know." So he quietly watched his
watcher ; and soon satisfied himself he suspect-
ed something amiss. From that hour Skinner
was a doomed clerk.
It was two o'clock : Hardie had just arrived,
and sat in the parlor Cato-like, and cooking.
Skinner was in high spirits ; it was owing to
his presence of mind the Bank had not been
broken some hours ago by Maxley; so now,
while concluding his work, he was enjoying by
anticipation his employer's gratitude: "He
can't hold aloof after this," said Skinner; "he
must honor me with his confidence. And I
will deserve it. I do deserve it."
A grave, calm, passionless voice invited him
into the parlor.
He descended from his desk and went in,
swelling with demure complacency.
He found Mr. Hardie seated garbling his
accounts with surpassing dignity. The great
man handed him an envelope, and cooked ma-
jestic on. A wave of that imperial hand, and
Skinner had mingled with the past.
For know that the envelope contained three
things : a check for a month's wages ; a charac-
ter; and a dismissal, very polite, and equally
peremptory.
Skinner stood paralyzed : the complacency
died out of his face,'and rueful wonder came in-
stead : it was some time before he could utter
a word: at last he faltered, "Turn me away.
Sir? turn away Noah Skinner! your father
would never have said such a word to my fa-
ther." Skinner uttered this his first remon-
strance in a voice trembling with awe; but
gathered courage when he found he had done it,
yet lived.
Mr. Hardie evaded his expostulation by a
very simple means: he made no reply; but
continued his work, dignified as Brutus, inex-
orabJe as Fate, cool as Cucumber.
Skinner's anger began to rise. He watched
Mr. Hardie in silence, and said to himself,
"Curse you ! you were bom without a heart !"
He waited, however, for some sign of relent-
ing ; and hoping for it, the water came into his
own eyes. But Hardie was impassive as ice.
Then the little clerk, mortified to the core, as
well as wounded, ground his teeth, and drew a
little nearer to this incarnate Arithmetic ; and
said with an excess of obsequiousness: "Will
you condescend to give me a reason for turning
me away all in a moment, after five-and-thirty
years' faithful services ?"
"Men of business do not deal in reasons,"
was the cool reply : " it is enough for you that
I give you an excellent character, and that we
part good friends."
"That we do not," replied Skinner, sharply:
"if we stay together we are friends; but we
part enemies, if we do part."
"As you please, Mr. Skinner. I will detain
you no longer."
And Mr. Hardie waved him away so grandly
that he started and almost ran to the door.
When he felt the handle, it acted like a prop to
his heart. He stood firm; and rage supplied
the place of steady courage. He clung to the
door, and whispered at his master ; such a whift.
per ; so loud, so cutting, so full of meaning and
malice ; it was like a serpent hissing at a man.
"But I'll give you a reason, a good reason, why
you had better not insult me so cruel : and what
is more, I'll give you two: and one is that but
for me the Bank must have closed this day at
ten o'clock ^Ay, you may stare ; it was I saved
it, not you and the other is that, if you make
an enemy of me, you are done for. I know too
much, to be made an enemy of. Sir ; a great deal
too much."
At this, Mr. Hardie raised his head from his
book and eyed his crouching venomous assailant
full in the face, majestically, as one can fancy a
lion rearing his ponderous head, and looking la-
zily and steadily at a snake that has just hissed
in a corner. Each word of Skinner's was a
barbed icicle to him ; yet not a muscle of his close
countenance betrayed his inward sufiering.
One thing, however, even he could not mas-
ter ; his blood ; it retired from that stoical cheel^
to the chilled and foreboding heart; and thQ
sudden pallor of the resolute face told Skinner
his shafts had gone home : " Come, Sir," said
he, afi'ecting to mingle good fellowship with his
defiance; "why bundle me off" these premises,
when you will be bundled oflf them yourself be-
fore the week is out?"
"You insolent scoundrel! Humph. Ex-
plain, Mr. Skinner."
"Ah, what, have I warmed your marble up a
bit ? Yes, I'll explain. The Bank 1$ rotten, and
can't last forty-eight hours."
"Oh, indeed! blighted in a day by the dis-
missid of Mr. Noah Skinner. Do not repeat
that after you've been turned into the streets;
or you will be indicted : at present we are confi-
dential: any thing more before you quit the
rotten Bank?"
" Yes, Sir, plenty. I'll tell you your own his-
tory, past, present, and to come. The road to
riches is hard and rugged to the likes of me ;
but your good Father made it smooth and easy
to you, Sir ; you had only to take the money of
VERY HARD CASH.
108
a lot of fools that fancy they can't keep it them-
^ves ; invest it in Consols and Exchequer bills,
live on half the profits, put by the rest, and roll
in wealth. But this was too slow, and too sure,
for yon ; you must be Rothschild in a day ; so
yon went into blind speculation, and flung old
Mr. Hardie*s savings into a well. And now for
the last eight months you have been doctoring
the ledger;" Hardie winced just perceptibly;
*'yoa have put down our gains in white, our
losses in black, and so you keep feeding your
pocket-book and emptying our tills: the pear
will soon be ripe, and then you will let it drop,
and into the Bankruptcy Court we go. But,
what yon forget, fraudulent Bankruptcy isn't the
turnpike way of trade : it is a broad road, but a
crooked one: skirts the prison wall. Sir, and
sights the herring pond."
An agony went across Mr. Hardie's great face ;
and seemed to furrow as it ran.
"Not but what you are all right, Sir," re-
samed his little cat-like tormentor, letting him
go a little way, to nail him again by-and-by ;
"yon have cooked the books in time; and
Cocker was a fool to you. 'Twill be all down
in black and white. Great sacrifices: no re-
aerve: creditors take every thing; dividend,
fonrpence in the pound, furniture of house and
bank, Mrs. Hardie's portrait, and down to the
coal-scuttle. Bankrupt saves nothing but his
honor, and the six thousand pounds or so he
has stitched into his old great-coat: hands his
new one to the official assignees, like an honest
man."
fiardie uttered something between a growl
and a moan.
"Now comes the per contra: poor little de-
spised Noah Skinner has kept genuine books
while you have been preparing false ones. I
took the real figures home every afternoon on
loose leaves : and bound 'em : and very curious
they will read in Court alongside of yours. I
did it for amusement o'nights ; I'm so solitary,
and so fond of figures: I must try and turn
them to profit ; for I'm out of place now in my
old age. Dearee me I how curious that you
should go and pick out me of all men, to turn
into the street like a dog ^like a dog ^like a
dog."
Hardie turned his head away ; and, in that
moment of humiliation and abject fear, drank all
the bitterness of moral death.
fiis manhood urged him to defy Skinner and
return to the straight path, cost what it might.
But how could he? His own books were all
falsified. He could place a true total before
his creditors by simply adding the contents of
his secret hoard to the assets of the Bank ; but
with this true arithmetical result he could not
square his books, except by conjectural and
fabricated details, which would be detected, and
send him to prison; for who would believe he
was lying in figures only to get back to the
truth? No, he had entangled himself in his
own fraud, and was at the mercy of his servant.
He took his line. " Skinner, it was your inter-
est to leave me while the Bank stood ; then you
would have got a place directly ; but since you
take umbrage at my dismissing yon for your
own good, I must punish you by keeping you."
"I am quite r^y to stay and serve you,
Sir," replied Skinner, hastily: "and as for my
angry words, think no more of them ! It went
to my heart to be turned away at the very time
you need me most."
("Hypocritical rogue I") thought Hardie.
"That is true. Skinner," said he; "I do in-
deed need a faithful and sympathizing sen^ant
to advise, support, and aid me. Ask yourself
whether any man in England needs a confidant
more than I ! It was bitter at first to be dis-
covered even by you : but now I am glad you
know all; for I see I have undervalued your
ability as well as your zeal,"
Thus Mr. Hardie bowed his pride to flatter
Skinner: and soon saw by the little fellow's
heightened color that this was the way to make
him a clerk of wax.
The Banker and his clerk were reconciled.
Then the latter was invited to commit himself
by carrying on the culinary process in his own
hand. He trembled a little : but complied, and
so became an accomplice; on this his master
took him into his confidence, and told him every
thing it was impossible to hide from him.
"And now. Sir," said Skinner, "let me tell
you what I did for you this morning. Then
perhaps you won't wonder at my being so pep-
pery. Maxley suspects; he came here and drew
out every shilling. I was all in a perspiration
what to do. But I put a good face on, and "
Skinner then confided to his principal how he
had evaded Maxley, and saved the Bank ; and
the stratagem seemed so incredible and droll,
that they both laughed over it long and loud.
And in fact it turned out a first-rate practical
jest : cost two lives.
While they were laughing, the young clerk
looked in, and said, "Captain Dodd, to speak
with you, Sir!"
"Captain Doddl !!" And all Mr. Hardie's
forced merriment died away, and his face be-
trayed his vexation for once. " Did you go and
tell him I was here?"
"Yes, Sir : I had no orders ; and he said you
would be sure to see Ati."
" Unfortunate ! Well, you may show him in
when I ring your bell."
The youngster being gone, Mr. Hardie ex-
plained to his new ally in a few hurried words
the danger that threatened him from Miss Julia
Dodd . * * And now, ' ' said he, * * the women have
sent her Father to soften his. I shall be told
his girl will die if she can't have my boy, etc.
As if I care who lives or dies."
On this Skinner got up all in a hurry, and of-
fered to go into the office.
"On no account," said Mr. Hardie, sharply.
"I shall make my business with you the excuse
for cutting this love-nonsense mighty short.
Take your book to the desk, and seem buried
in it I"
He then touched the beU, and both confeder-
ates fell into an attitude : never were a pair so
bent over their Uttle accounts ; Ues, like them-
selves.
Instead of the heart-broken father their com-
edy awaited, in came the gallant sailor with a
brown cheek reddened by triumph and excite-
ment, and almost shouted in a genial jocund * ;
voice, "How d'ye do. Sir? It is a long time
since I came across your hawse." And with
this he held out his hand cordially. Hs5i^&
104
VERY HARD CASH.
gave his mechanically, and remained on his
guard; but somewhat puzzled. Dodd shook
his cold hand heartily. " Well, Sir, here I am,
just come ashore, and visiting you before my
very wife : what d'ye think of that?**
"I am highly honored, Sir," said Hardie:
then, rather stiffly and incredulously, "and to
what may I owe this extraordinary preference ?
Will you be good enough to state the purport
of this visit briefly as Mr. Skinner and I are
much occupied."
"The purport?' Why what does one come
to a banker about? I have got a lot of money
I want to get rid of."
Hardie stared ; but was as much on his guard
as ever ; only more and more puzzled.
Then David winked at him with simple cun-
ning, took out his knife, undid his shirt, and
began to cut the threads which bound the Cash
to his flannel.
At this Skinner wheeled round on his stool to
look, and both he and Mr. Hardie inspected the
unusual pantomime with demure curiosity.
Dodd next removed the oil-skin cover and
showed the pocket-book, brought it down with
a triumphant smack on the hollow of his hand,
and, in the pride of his heart, the joy of his
bosom, and the fever of his blood for there
were two red spots on his oheek all the time
told the cold pair Its adventures in a few glow-
ing words ; the Calcutta firm the two pirates
the hurricane the wreck ^the landsharks
he had saved It from. " And here It is, safe in
spite of them all. But 1 won't carry It on me
any more; it is unlucky: so you must be so
good as to take charge of It for me, Sir."
"Very well, Captain Dodd. You wish it
placed to Mrs. Dodd's account, I suppose."
" No ! no 1 I have nothing to do with that :
this is between you and me."
"As you please."
"Ye see it is a good lump. Sir."
" Oh, indeed I" said Hardie, a little sneeringly.
"I call it a thundering lot o' money. But I
suppose it is not much to a rich banker like
you. " Then he lowered his voice, and said with
a certain awe: "It's fourteen thousand
pounds."
"Fourteen thousand pounds!! !" cried Har-
die. Then with sudden and consummate cool-
ness, "Why certainly an established bank like
this deals with more considerable deposits than
that. Skinner, why don't you give the captain
a chair ?"
"No, no !" said Dodd. "I'll heave to till I
get this oflf my mind ; but I won't anchor any
where but at home." He then opened the pock-
et-book and spread the contents out before Mr.
Hardie, who ran over the notes and bills, and
said the amount was 14,010 125. 6d
Dodd asked for a receipt
"Why it is not usual when there is an ac-
count."
Dodd's countenance fell : " Oh, I should not
like to part with it unless I had a. receipt."
" You mistake me," said Hardie, with a smile.
"An entry in your Banker's book is a receipt.
However you can have dhe in another form."
He then unlocked a desk ; took out a banker's
receipt; and told Skinner to fill it in. This
done ho seemed to be absorbed in some more
important matter.
Skinner counted the notes and left them with
Mr. Hardie: the bills he took to his desk to
note them on the margin of the receipt. While
he was writing this with his usual slowness and
precision, poor Dodd's heart overflowed: "It is
my children's fortune, ye see : I don't look on a
sixpence of it as mine : that is what made me so
particular. It belongs to my little Julia, bless
her! she is a rose-bud if ever there was one;
and oh, such a heart ; and so fond of her poor
Father ; but not fonder than he is of her and
to my dear boy Edward; he is the honestest
young chap you ever saw : what he says, you
may swear to with your eyes shut; but how
could they miss either good looks or good hearts,
and her children ? the best wife and the best mor
ther in England ! She has been a true consort
to me this many a year, and I to her, in deep
water and shoal, let the wind blow high or low.
Here is a Simple Simon vaunting his own flesh,
and blood! no wonder that little gentleman
there is grinning at me: well, grin away, lad!
perhaps you haven't got any children. But you
have, Sir: and you know how it is with us
Fathers ; our hearts are so full of the little dar-
lings, out it must come. You can understand
how joyful I feel at saving their fortune from
land sharks and sea sharks, and landing it safe
in an honest man's hands like you, and your
Father before you."
Skinner handed him the receipt.
He cast his eye over it. "All right, little
gentleman ! Now my heart is relieved of such
a weight : I feel to have just cleared out a cargo
of bricks. 6ood-by ! shake hands ! I wish you
were as happy as I am. I wish all the world
was happy. God bless you! God bless you
both!"
And with this burst he was out of the room,
and making ardently for Albion Villa.
The Banker and his clerk turned round on
their seats and eyed one another a long time in
silence and amazement.
Was this thing a dream ? their faces seemed
to ask.
Then Mr. Hardie rested his senatorial head on
his hand, and pondered deeply. Skinner too re-
flected on this strange freak of Fortune : and the
result was that he burst in on his principal's rev-
erie with a joyful shout: "The Bank is saved!
Hardie's is good for another hundred years 1"
The Banker started, for Skinner's voice sound-
ed like a pistol-shot in his ear, so high-strung
was he with thought.
"Hush! hush!" he said: and pondered again
in silence.
At last he turned to Skinner. "You think
our course is plain ? I tell you it is so dark and
complicated it would puzzle Solomon to know
what is best to be done."
"Save the Bank, Sir! whatever you do."
" How can I save the Bank with a few thou-
sand pounds I must refund when called on?
You look keenly into what is under your eye.
Skinner; but you can not see a yard beyond
your nose. Let me think."
After a while he took a sheet of paper, and
jotted down " the materials," as he called diem,
and read them out to his accomplice :
" 1. A Bank.too far gone to be redeemed: a
trap; a welL If I throw this money into it, I
VEBY HARD CASH.
105
shall min Captain Dodd, and do myself no good,
bat only my creditors.
"2. Miss Julia Dodd, virtual proprietor of
this 14,000 : or of the greater part, if 1 choose.
The child that marries first usually jockeys the
other.
" 3. Alfred Hardie, my son, and my creditor,
deep in love with No. 2, and at present some-
what alienated from me by my thwarting a sHly
kve affair: which bids fair to improve into a
sound negotiation.
"4r. The 14,000 paid to me personally after
Banking hours, and not entered on the banking
books, nor known, but to you and me.
** Now suppose I treat tiiis advance as a per-
sonal trust? The Bank breaks: the money
disappears. Consternation of the Dodds, who,
until enlightened by the public settlement, will
think it has gone into the well.
"In that interval I talk Alfred over: and
promise to produce the 14,000 intact, with my
paternal blessing on him and Miss Dodd ; pro-
vided he will release mo from my debt to him,
and give me a life-interest in half the money set-
tled on him by my wife's father to my most un-
just and insolent exclusion. Their passion will
soon bring the young people to reason : and then
they will soon melt the old ones."
Skinner was struck with this masterly little
sketch. But he detected one fatal flaw: "You
don't say what is to become of me."
"Oh, I haven't thought of that yet."
"But do think of it, Sir! that I may have
the pleasure of co-operating. It would never
do for you and me to be pulling two ways, you
know."
" I will not forget you," said Hardie, wincing
under the chain this little wretch held him with,
and had jerked him by way of reminder. " But
surely. Skinner, you agree with me it would be
a sin and a shame to rob this honest captain of
his money for my creditors ; curse them I Ah,
you are not a Father. How quickly he found
that out ! Well, I am : and he touched me to
the quick : I love my little Jane as dearly as he
loves his Julia, every bit: and I feel for him.
And then he put me in mind of my own Father ;
poor man. That seems strange, doesn't it? a
sailor and a Banker 1 Ah 1 it was because they
were both honest men. Oh, it was like a whole-
some flower coming into a close room, and then
out again and leaving a whiff behind, was that
sailor. He left the savor of Probity and Sim-
plicity behind, though he took the things them-
selves away again. Why, why couldn't he leave
us what is more wanted here than even his mon-
ey? His integrity: the pearl of price that my
father, whom I used to sneer at, carried to his
grave; and died simple, but wise; honest, but
rich; rich in money, in credit, in honor, and
eternal hopes : oh, Skinner ! Skinner I I wish I
had never been bom."
Skinner was surprised : he was not aware that
intelligent men who sin are subject to fits of re-
morse: nay, more, he was frightened; for the
emotion of this iron man, so hard to move, was
overpowering when it came : it did not soften,
it convulsed him.
"Don't talk so. Sir," said the little clerk.
**Keep up your heart 1 Have a drop of some-
thing!"
"You axe right," said Mr. Hardie, gloomily;
G
" it is idle to talk : we are all the slaves of cir-
cumstances."
With this, he unlocked a safe that stood against
the wall, chucked the 14,000 in, and slanmied
the iron door sharply; and, as .it closed upon
the Cash with a clang, the parlor door burst open
as if by concert, and David Dodd stood on the
threshold, looking terrible. His ruddy color
was all gone, and he seemed black and white
with anger and anxiety. And out of this blanch-
ed, yet lowering face, his eyes glowed like coals,
and roved keenly to and fro between the Bank-
er and the clerk.
A thunder-cloud of a man.
CHAPTER XX.
James Maxlet came out of the Bank that
morning with nine hundred and four pounds
buttoned up tight in the pocket of his leather
breeches, a joyful man ; and so to his work ; and
home at one o'clock to dinner.
At 2 P.M. he was thoughtful ; uneasy at 8 ;
wretched at 3.30.
He was gardener as well as capitalist: and
Mr. Hardie owed him thirty shillings for work.
Such is human nature in general, and Max-
ley's in particular, that the 900 in pocket seem-
ed small, and the 30^. in jeopardy, large.
"I can't afibrd to go with the creditors," ar-
gued Maxley: "dividend on thirty shillings?
why, that will be about thirty pence ; the change
for a hard half crown."
He stuck his spade in the soil and made for
his debtor's house. As he came up the street,
Dodd shot out of the Bank radiant, and was
about to pass him without notice, full of his wife
and children : but Maxley stopped him with a
right cordial welcome, and told him he had given
them all a fright this time.
"What, is it over the town already, that my
ship has been wrecked?" And Dodd looked
annoyed.
"Wrecked? No; but you have been due this
two months, ye know. Wrecked ? Why cap-
tain, you haven't ever been wrecked?" And
he looked him all over as if he expected to see
"wrecked" branded on him by the elements.
"Ay, James, wrecked on the French coast,
and lost my chronometer and a tip-top sextant.
But what of that ? I saved It. I have just land-
ed It in the Bank. Good-by : I must sheer off;
I long to be home."
"Stay a bit, captain," said Maxley: "I am
not quiet easy in my mind ; I saw you come out
of Hardie's ; I thought in course you had been
in to draa : but you says difierent. Now what
was it you did leave behind you at that there
shop, iiyou please : not money ?"
* * Not money ? Only fourteen thousand pounds.
How the man stares ! Why it's not mine, James ;
it's my children's : there, good-by ;" and he was
actually off^ this time. But Maxley stretched
his long limbs, and caught him in two strides,
and griped his shoulder without ceremony : "Be
you mad ?" said he, sternly.
" No, but I begin to think you are."
"That is to be seen," said Maxley, gravely.
" Before I lets you go, you must tell me whether
you be jesting, or whether you have really been.
106
VERY HARD CASH.
so simple as to drop fourteen thousand pounds
at Bardie's?" No judge upon the bench, nor
bishop in his stall, could be more impressive than
this gardener was, when he subdued the vast vol-
ume of his voice to a low grave utterance of this
sort.
Dodd began to be uneasy: "Why, good
Heavens, there is nothing wrong with the old
Barkington Bank ?"
" Nothing wrong?" roared Maxley : then whis-
pered : " Holt ! I was laad once for slander, and
cost me thirty pounds : nearly killed my missus
it did."
"Man !" cried Dodd, " for my children's sake
tell me if you know any thing amiss. After all
I'm like a stranger here ; morQ than two years
away at a time."
" I'll tell you all I know," whispered Maxley :
" 'tis the least I can do. What (roaring), do
you think I've forgotten you saving my poor
boy out o' that scrape, and getting him a good
place in Canada, and why he'd have been put
in prison but for you, and that would ha' broken
my heart and his mother's and " The stout
voice began to quaver.
**0h, bother all that now," said Dodd, impa-
tiently. " The Bank I you have grounded me
on thorns."
"Well, ni tell ye: but you must promise
faithful not to go and say I told ye, or you'll
get me laad again : and I likes to laa them, not
fbr they to laa me."
" I promise, I promise."
"Well, then, I got a letter to-day from my
boy, him as you was so good to, and here 'tis in
my breeches pocket. ^Laws! how things do
come round sure/y; why, look ee here now, if
so be you hadn't been a good friend to he, he
wouldn't be where he is, and if so be he wam't
where he is, he couldn't have writ me this here,
and then where should you and / be ?"
"Belay your jaw and show me this letter,"
cried David, trembling all over.
"That I wool," said Maxley, diving a hand
into his pocket. "Hush ! lookee yander now ;
if there ain't Master Alfred a watching of us two
out of his window : and he have got an eye like
a hawk, he have. Step in the passage, captain,
and I'll show it you."
He drew him aside into the passage, and gave
him the letter. Dodd ran his eye over it hasti-
ly, uttered a cry like a wounded lion, dropped
it, gave a slight stagger, and rushed away.
Maxley picked up his letter and watcheaDodd
into the Bank again ; and reflected on his work.
His heart was warmed at having made a return
to the good captain.
His head suggested that he was on the road
which leads to libel.
But he had picked up at the Assizes a smatter-
ing of the law of evidence ; so he coolly tore the
letter in pieces. "There now," said he to him-
self, ' ' if Hardies do laa me for publishing of this
here letter, why they pours their water into a
sieve. Ugh I" And with this exclamation he
started, and then put his heavy boot on part of
the letter, and ground it furtively into the mud ;
for a light hand had settled on his shoulder, and
a keen young face was close to his.
It was Alfred Hardie, who had stolen on him
like a cat. " I'm laad," thought Maxley.
"Maxley, old fellow," said Alfred, in a voice
as coaxing as a woman's, "are yon in a good
humor?"
"Well, Master Halfred, sight of you mostly
puts me in one, especially after that there strych-
nine job."
"Then tell me," whispered Alfred, his eyes
sparkling and his face beaming, "who was that
you were talking to just now? was it? wasn't
it? who was it?"
CHAPTER XXI.
While Dodd stood lowering in the doorway,
he was nevertheless making a great effort to
control his agitation.
At last he said, in a stem but low voice, in
which, however, a quick ear might detect a
tremor of agitation : "I have changed my mind.
Sir: I want my money back."
At this, though David's face had prepared
him, Mr. Hardie's heart sank ; but there was no
help for it: he said, faintly, "Certainly. May
I ask ?" and there he stopped ; for it was hard-
ly prudent to ask any thing.
"No matter:" replied Dodd, his agitation
rising even at this slight delay: "Come! my
money I . I must and will have it."
Hardie drew himself up majestically. " Cap-
tain Dodd, this is a strange way of demanding
what nobody here disputes."
"Well, I beg your pardon," said Dodd, a
little awed by his dignity and fairness : " but I
can't help it."
The quick, supple Banker, saw the slight ad-
vantage he had gained, and his mind went into
a whirl : what should he do ? It was death tD
part with this money and gain nothing by it :
sooner tell Dodd of the love affair ; and open a
treaty on this basis : he clung to this money like
limpet to its rock; and so intense and rapid
were his thoughts and schemes how to retain it
a little longer, that David's apologies buzzed in
his ear like the drone of a beetle.
The latter went on to say, " You see. Sir, ifs
my children's fortune, my boy Edward's, and my
little Julia's : and so many have been trying to
get it from me, that my blood boils up in a mo-
ment about it now. My poor head ! You don't
seem to understand what I am saying; there
then, I am a sailor; I can't go beating and
tacking, like you landsmen, with the wind dead
astam ; the long and the short is, I don't feel It
safe here : don't feel It safe any where, except
in my wife's lap. So no more words: here's
your receipt ; give me my money."
" Certainly, Captain Dodd. Call to-morrow
morning at the Bank, and it will be paid on de-
mand in the regular way : the Bank opens at
ten o'clock."
" No, no ; I can't wait. I should be dead of
anxiety before then. Why not pay it me here,
and now? You took it here."
"We receive deposits till four o'clock; but
we do not disburse after three. This is the sys-
tem of all Banks."
" That is all nonsense : if yon are open to re-
ceive money, you are open to pay it."
" Mj dear Sir, if you were not entirely igno-
rant of business, you would be aware that these
things are not done in this way : money received
VERY HARD CASH.
107
is passed to acconnt, and the cashier is the only
person who can honor your draft on it: but,
stop ; if the cashier is in the Bank, we may man-
age it for you yet : Skinner, run and see wheth-
er he has left : and, if not, send him in to me
directly." The cashier took his cue, and ran
out.
David was silent.
The cashier speedily returned, saying, with a
disappointed air: "The cashier has been gone
this quarter of an hour."
David maintained an ominous silence.
"That is unfortunate," remarked Hardie.
"But, after all, it is only till to-morrow morn-
ing : still I regret this circumstance, Sir ; and I
feel that all these precautions we are obliged to
take must seem unreasonable to you : but expe-
rience dictates this severe routine; and, were
we to deviate from it, our friends' money would
not be so safe in our hands as it always has been
at present."
David eyed him sternly, but let him run on.
When he had concluded his flowing periods, Da-
vid said, quietly: "So you can't give me my
own, because your cashier has carried it away?''
Hardie smiled : " No, no ; but because he has
locked it up; and carried away the key."
"It is not in this room, then?"
"No."
"Are you sure?"
"Positive."
"What, not in that safe of yours, there?"
"Certainly not," said Hardie, stoutly.
" Open the safe : the keys are in it."
" Open the safe ? What for ?"
" To show me It is not in the right-hand par-
tition of that safe; there: there." And David
pointed at the very place where it was.
The dignified Mr. Hardie felt ready to sink
with shame : a kind of shudder passed through
him, and he was about to comply, heart-sick ;
but then wounded pride, and the rage of disap-
pointment, stung him, and he turned in defi-
ance: "You are impertinent. Sir: and I shall
not reward your curiosity and your insolence by
showing you the contents of my safes."
"My money! my money!" cried David, fierce-
Iv : "no more words, for I sha'n't listen to them :
I know you now for what you are ; a thief. I
saw you put It into that safe : a liar is always a
thief. You want to steal my children's money :
I'll have your life first. My money ! ye pirate I
or ril strangle you." Ana he advanced upon
him, purple with rage, and shot out his long
threatening arm, and brown fingers working in
the air. " D'ye know what I did to a French
land shark that tried to rob me of It ? I throt-
tled him with these fingers till his eyes and his
tongue started out of hijn; he came for my
children's money, and I killed him so so so
^as I'll killyou, you thief! you liar! you scoun-
drel I"
His face black and convulsed with rage, and
his outstretched fingers working convulsively,
and hungering for a rogue's throat, made the
resolute Hardie quake ; he whipped out of the
furious man's way, and got to the safe pale and
trembling. " Hush ! no violence !" he gasped :
"I'll give you your money this moment, you
ruffian."
While be unlocked the safe with trembling
haodfl^ Dodd stood like a man petrified ; his arm
and fingers stretched out and threatening ; and
Skinner saw him pull at his neck-tie furiously,
like one choking.
Hardie got the notes and bills all in a hnny,
and held them out to Dodd.
In which act, to his consternation, and sur-
prise, and indignation, he received aback-handed
blow on the eye that dazzled him for an instant ;
and there was David with his arms struggling
wildly, and his fists clenched, his face purple,
and his eyes distorted so that little was seen but
the whites ; the next moment his teeth gnashed
loudly together, and he fell headlong on the floor
with a concussion so momentous, that the win-
dows rattled, and the room shook violently;
while the dust rose in a cloud.
A loud ejaculation burst from Hardie and
Skinner.
And then there was an awful silence.
CHAPTER XXn.
When David fell senseless on the floor Mr.
Hardie was somewhat confused by the back-
handed blow from his convulsed and whirling
arm. But Skinner ran to him, held up his head
and whipped ofi* his neckcloth.
Then Hardie turned to seize the bell and ring
for assistance ; but Skinner shook his head and
said it was useless ; this was no faint : old Betty
could not help him :
"It is a bad day's work. Sir," said he, trem-
bling : " he is a dead man."
"Dead? Heaven forbid !"
"Apoplexy!" whispered Skinner.
" Run for a doctor then : Lose no time : Don't
let us have his blood on our hands. Dead ?"
And he repeated the word this time in a very
different tone ; a tone too strange and significant
to escape Skinner's quick ear. However, he laid
David's head gently down, and rose from his
knees to obey.
What did he see now but Mr. Hardie, with
his back turned, putting the notes and bills soft-
ly into the safe again out of sight. He saw, com-
prehended, and took his own course with equal
rapidity.
" Come, run !" cried Mr. Hardie, "I'll take
care of him ; every moment is precious."
(" Wants to get rid of me !") thought Skinner.
"No, Sir," said he, "be ruled by me: let ns
take him to his friends : he won't live ; and wo
shall get all the blame if we doctor him."
Already egotism had whispered Hardie, "How
lucky if he should die 1" and now a still guiltier
thought flashed through him : he did not try to
conquer it; he only trembled at himself for en-
tertaining it.
" At least give him air !" said he, in a quaver-
ing voice, consenting in a crime, yet compromis-
ing with his conscience, feebly.
He threw the window open with great zeal,
with prodigious zeal ; for he wanted to deceive
himself as well as Skinner. With equal parade
he helped carry Dodd to the window ; it opened
on the ground : this done, the self-deceivers put
their heads together, and soon managed matters
so that two porters, ^own to Skinner, were in-
troduced into the garden, and informed that a
gentleman had fallen down m . ^^^ ^sA "^^^
108
VERY HARD CASH.
were to take him home to his friends, and not
talk about it : there might be an inquest, and
that was so disagreeable to a gentleman like Mr.
Hardie. The men agreed at once, for a sover-
eign apiece. It was all done in a great hurry
and agitation, and, while Skinner accompanied
the men to see that they did not blab, Mr. Har-
die went into the garden to breathe and think.
But he could do neither.
He must have a look at It.
He stole back, opened the safe, and examined
the notes and bills.
He fingered them.
They seemed to grow to his finger.
He lusted after them. .
Ho said to himself, " The matter has gone too
far to stop ; I must go on borrowing this money
of the Dodds ; and make it the basis of a large
fortune: it will be best for all parties in the
end.'*
He put It into his pocket-book ; that pocket-
book into his breast-pocket ; and passed by Iiis
private door into the house : and to his dress-
ing-room.
Ten minutes later he left the house with a
little black bag in his hand.
CHAPTER XXIII.
**What will ye give me, and I'll tell ye,"
said Maxley to Alfred Hardie.
**Five pounds."
** That is too much."
**rive shillings then."
"That is too little. Lookee here, your gar-
den owes me thirty shillings for work : suppose
you pays me, and that will save me from going
to your Dad for it.'*
Alfred consented readily, and paid the mon-
ey. Then Maxley told him it was Captain
Dodd he had been talking with.
** I thought so ! I thought so !** cried Alfred,
joyfully, " but I was afraid to believe it : it was
too delightful : Maxley, you're a trump : you
don't know what anxiety you have relieved me
of; some fool has gone and reported the A(/ra
wrecked; look here!" and he showed him his
Lloyd's; "luckily, it has only just come; so I
haven't been miserable long."
"Well, to be sure, news flies fast nowadays.
He have been wrecked, for that matter." He
then surprised Alfred by telling him all he had
just learned from Dodd; and was just going
to let out about the fourteen thousand pounls,
whon he recollected this was the Banker's son ;
and while he was talking to him, it suddenly
struck Maxley that this young gentleman would
come down in the world, should the Bank break ;
and then the Dodds, ho concluded, judgin^i oth-
ers by himself, would be apt to turn their backs
on him. Now he liked Alfred, and was dis-
posed to do him a good turn, when he could
without hurtinjx James Maxley. " Mr. Alfred,"
said he, " I know the world better than you do :
you be ruled by me, or you'll rue it : you pat on
your Sunday coat this minute;, and off like a
shot to Alhyn Villee ; you'll get there before the
captain : he have got a little business to do first ;
tAat Is neither here nor there : besides you arc
jroiin/r iind lissome. You be the first to tell
Missus Dodd the good news; and, when the
captain comes, there sets you aside Miss Julee :
and don't you be shy and shamefaced : take him
when his heart is warm, and tell him why you
are there : *I love her, dear,' says you. He be
only a sailor, and they never has no sense nor
prudence : he is amost sure to take you by the
hand, at such a time: and once yon get his
word, he'll stand good, to his own hurt; he's
one of that sort, bless his silly old heart."
A good deal of this was unintelligible to Al-
fred ; but the advice seemed good ; advice gen-
erally does when it squares with our own wish-
es : he thanked Maxley, left him, made a hasty '
toilet, and ran to Albion Villa.
Sarah opened the door to him ; in tears.
The news of the wreck had come to Albion
Villa just half an hour ago ; and in that half
hour they had tasted more misery than hitherto
their peaceful lot had brought them in years.
Mrs. Dodd was praying and crying in her room ;
Julia had put on her bonnet, and was coming
down in deep distress and agitation, to go down
to the quay and learn more, if possible.
Alfred saw her on the stairs, and at sight of
her pale, agitated face, flew to her.
She held out both hands piteously to him:
"Oh, Alfred!"
"Good news!" he panted. "He is alive;
Maxley has seen him I have seen him He
will be here directly my own love dry your
eyes calm your fears He is safe ; he is well :
hurrah! hun-ah!"
The girl's pale face flushed red with hope,
then pale again with emotion, then rosy red
with transcendent joy: "Oh, bless you! bless
you !" she murmured, in her sweet gurgle so full
of heart : then took his head passionately with
both her hands, as if she was going to kiss him:
uttered a little inarticulate cry of love and grat-
itude over him, then turned and flew up the
stairs crying "Mamma! mamma!" and burst
into her mother's room. When two such Im-
petuosities meet, as Alfred and Julia, expect
quick work. ^
What happened in Mrs. Dodd's room may be
imagined : and soon both ladies came hastily oat
to Alfred, and he found himself in the drawing-
room seated between them, and holding a hand
of each, and playing the man delightfully, sooth-
ing and assuring them ; Julia believed him at a
word, and beamed with unmixed delight and an-
ticipation of the joyful meeting ; Mrs. Dodd cost
him more trouble : her soft hand trembled still
in his; and she put question upon question.
But, when he told her he with his own eyes had
seen Captain Dodd talking to Maxley, and gath-
ered from Maxley he had been shipwrecked on
the coast of France, and lost his chronometer
and his sextant, these details commanded credit;
bells were rung : the captain's dressing-room or-
dered to be got ready ; the cook put on her met-
tle, and Alfred invited to stay and dine with the
long-expected one : and the house of mourning
became the house of joy.
"And then it was he who brought the good
news," whispered Julia to her mother; "and
that is so sweet."
"Yes, dear," said Mrs. Dodd, "he will make ^
even me love him. The 14,000 ! I hope that
was not lost in the wreck."
"Oh, mamma! who cares? when his own
VERY HARD CASH.
109
dear, sweet, precious life has been in danger,
and is mercifolly preserred. Whj does he not
come ? I shall scold him for keeping us wait-
ing : jovL know I am not a bit afraid of him,
though he is papa: indeed, I am ashamed to
say, I govern him with a rod of, no matter what
Do, do, do let us all three put on our bonnets,
and run and meet him. I want him so to love
somebody the very first day."
Mrs. Dodd said, " Well : wait a few minutes,
and then, if he is not here, you two shall go. I
dare hardly trust myself to meet my darling hus-
band in the open street.**
Julia ran to Alfred : '^ If he does not come in
ten minutes, you and I may go and meet him."
"You are an angel;" murmured Alfred.
"You are another;'* said Julia, haughtily.
"Oh, dear, I can't sit down: and I don't want
flattery, I want papa. A waltz I a waltz ! then
one can go mad with joy without startling pro-
priety ; I can't answer for the consequences if I
don't let oiF a little, little, happiness."
"That I wiU," said Mrs. Dodd; "for I am
as happy as you, and happier." She played a
waltz.
Julia's eyes were a challenge : Alfred started
np and took her ready hand, and soon the gay
young things were whirling round, the happiest
pair in England.
But in the middle of the joyous whirl, Julia's
quick ear, on the watch all the time, heard the
gate swing to : she glided like an eel from Al-
fred's arm, and ran to the window. Ai-rived
there, she made three swift vertical bounds like
a girl with a skipping-rope, only her hands were
clapping in the air at the same time ; then down
the stairs, screaming: "His chest! his chest!
he is coming, coming, come."
Alfred ran after her.
Mrs. Dodd, unable to race with such ante-
lopes, slipped quietly out into the little balcony.
Julia had seen two men carrying a trestle with
a tarpaulin over it, and a third walking beside.
Dodd's heavy sea-chest had been more than once
.carried home this way. She met the men at the
door, and overpowered them with questions : " Is
it his clothes ? then he wasn't so much wrecked
after all. Is he with you ? is he coming direct-
ly ? Why don't you tell me ?"
The porters at first wore the stolid impassive
faces of their tribe : but, when this bright young
creature questioned them, brimming over with
ardor and joy, their countenances fell, and they
hung their heads.
The little sharp-faced man, who was walking
beside the other, stepped forward to reply to
Julia.
He was interrupted by a terrible scream from
the balcony.
Mrs. Dodd was leaning wildly over it, with
dilating eyes, and quivering hand that pointed
down to the other side of the trestle: "Julia! !
Julia!!"
Julia ran round, and stood petrified, her pale
lips apart, and all her innocent joy frozen in a
moment.
The tarpaulin was scanty there, and a man's
hand and part of his arm dangled helpless out.
The hand was blanched: and wore a well-
known ring.
CHAPTER XXIV.
In the terror and confusion no questions were
then asked : Alfred got to David's head and told
Skinner to take his feet ; Mrs. Dodd helped, and
they carried him up and laid him on her bed.
The servant girls cried and wailed, and were of
little use ; Mrs. Dodd hurried them off for med-
ical aid, and she and Julia, though pale as ghosts,
and trembling in every limb, were tearless, and
almost silent, and did all for the best : they un-
did a shirt-button, that confined his throat : they
set his head high, and tried their poor little eip
de cologne and feminine remedies : and each of
them held an insensible hand in both hers, clasp-
ing it piteously, and trying to hold him tight, so
that Death should notlake him away from them.
"My son, where is my son?" sighed Mrs.
Dodd.
Alfred threw his arm round her neck : "You
have one son here : what shall I do ?"
The next minute he was running to the tele-
graph-ofiice for her.
At the gate he found Skinner hanging about,
and asked him hurriedly how the calamity had
happened. Skinner said Captain Dodd had fall-
en down senseless in the street, and he had pass-
ed soon after, recognized him, and brought him
home; "I have paid the men. Sir: I wouldn't
let them ask the ladies at such a time."
" Oh, thank jrou ! thank you. Skinner ! I will
repay you : it is me you have obliged." And
Alfred ran off with the words in his mouth.
Skinner looked after him, and muttered : " I
forgot hitti. It is a nice mess. Wish I was out
of it." And he went back, hanging his head, to
Alfred's father.
Mr. Osmond met him ; Skinner turned and
saw him enter the villa.
Mr. Osmond came softly into the room, exam-
ined Dodd's eye, felt his pulse, and said he must
be bled at once.
Mrs. Dodd was averse to this: "Oh, let us
try every thing else first," said she ; but Osmond
told her there was no other remedy: "All the
functions we rely on in the exhibition of medi-
cines are suspended."
Dr. Short now drove up, and was ushered in.
Mrs. Dodd asked him imploringly whether it
was necessary to bleed. But Dr. Short knew his
business too well to be entrapped into an inde-
pendent opinion where a suigeon had been before
him ; he drew Mr. Osmond apart and inquired
what he had recommended : this ascertained, he
turned to Mrs. Dodd and said, I advise venesec-
tion, or cupping.
"Oh, Dr. Short, pray have pity and order
something less terrible. Dr. Sampson is so
averse to bleeding."
"Sampson? Sampson? never heard of him."
"It is the chronothermal man,** said Os-
mond.
" Oh, ah ! But this is too serious a case to be
quacked. Coma, with stertor, and a full, boundp
ing pulse, indicates liberal blood-letting. I
would try venesection ; then cup, if necessary,
or leech the temporal artery : I need not say,
Sir, calomel must complete the cure. The case
is simple ; and, at present, surgical ; I leave it
in competent hands." And he retired, leaving
the inferior practitioner well pleased with him
110
VERY HARD CASH.
ai|d with himself ; no ingflftticant part of a ph j-
sicilHrii's art. ^
When he was gone, Mr. Osmond told Mrs.
Dodd that however crotchety Dr. Sampson might
be, he was an able man, and had very properly
resisted the indiscriminate use of the lancet:
the profession owed him much. "But in apo-
plexy the leech and the lancet are still our sheet-
anchors."
Mrs. Dodd uttered a faint shriek : " Apoplexy !
Oh, David ! Oh, my darling ; have you come
home for this ?"
Osmond assured her apoplexy was not neces-
sarily fatal : provided the cerebral blood-vessels
were relieved in time by depletion.
The fixed eye, and terrible stertorous breath-
ing on the one hand, and the promise of relief
on the other, overpowered Mrs. Dodd's reluct-
ance. She sent Julia out of the room on a pre-
text ; and then consented with tears to David's
being bled. But she would not yield to leave
the room ; no ; this tender woman nerved her-
self to see her husband's blood flow, sooner than
risk his being bled too much by the hard hand of
custom. Let the peevish fools, who make their
own troubles in love, compare their slight and
merited pangs with this : she was his trae-lover
and his wife : yet there she stood with eye hor-
ror-stricken yet unflinching, and saw the stab of
the little lancet, and felt it deeper than she would
a javelin through her own body ; and watched
the blood run that was dearer to her far than her
own.
At the first prick of the lancet David shivered,
and, as the blood escaped, his eye unfixed, and
the pupils contracted and dilated, and once he
** Good sign that !" said Osmond.
" Oh, that is enough, Sir," said Mrs. Dodd
"we shall faint if you take any more."
Osmond closed the vein, ol^rving that a lo-
cal bleeding would do the rest. When he had
stanched the blood, Mrs. Dodd sank half faint-
ing in her chair ; by some marvelous sympathy
it was she who had been bled, and whose vein
was now closed. Osmond sprinkled water in her
face : she thanked him : and said, sweetly, "Tou
see we could not have lost any more."
When it was over she came to tell Julia ; she
found her sitting on the stairs crying, and pale as
marble. She suspected. And there was Alfred
hanging over her, and in agony at her grief; out
came his love for her in words and accents un-
mistakable, and this in Osmond's hearing and
the maid's.
" Oh, hush ! hush !" cried poor Mrs. Dodd ;
and her face was seen to bum through her tears.
And this was the happy, quiet, little villa of
my opening chapters.
Ah, Richard Hardie ! Richard Hardie !
The patient was cupped on the nape of the
neck by Mr. Osmond, and, on the glasses draw-
ing, showed signs of consciousness, and the
breathing was relieved: these favorable symp-
toms were neither diminished nor increased by
the subsequent application of the cupping-needles.
**We have turned the comer," said Mr. Os-
mond, cheerfully.
Rap ! rap ! rap I came a telegraphic message
from Dr. Sampson, and was brought up to the
fdck room.
" Out visiting patients when yours came. In
apoplexy with a red face and stertorous breath-
ing put the feet in mustard bath and dash much
cold water on the head from above. On revival
give emetic : cure with sulphate of quinine. In
apoplexy with a white face treat as for a simple
faint : here emetic dangerous. In neither apo-
plexy bleed. Coming down by train."
This message added to Mrs. Dodd's alarm;
the whole treatment varied so from what had
been done. She faltered her misgivings; Os-
mond reassured her. " Not bleed in apoplexy 1"
said he, superciliously, "why it is the universal
practice. Judge for yourselif 1 You see the im-
provement."
Mrs. Dodd admitted it.
"Then as to the cold water,** said Osmond,
" I would hardly advise so rough a remedy. And
he is going on so well. But you can send for ice ;
and, meantime, give me a good-sized stocking."
He cut and fitted it adroitly to the patient's
head : then drenched it with can de cologne, and
soon the head began to steam.
By-and-by David muttered a few incoherent
words : and the anxious watchers thanked God
aloud for them.
At length Mr. Osmond took leave with a
cheerful countenance, and left them all grateful
to him, and with a high opinion of his judgment
and skill ; especially Julia. She said Dr. Samp-
son was very amusing to talk to ; but she should
be sorry to trust to that rash, reckless, boisterous
man in time of danger.
Mr. Osmond, returning home, passed Munday
and Co., the undertakers. The shop was shut
long ago ; but Munday junior was standing at
the private door, and invited him in.
"Well, Sir; buried old Mrs. Jephson to-day;
and went ofi' capital. Your little commission.
Sir, for recommending them our firm." With
thitf he slipped four sovereigns into Mr. Os-
mond's hand. Osmond smiled benignly at their
contact with his palm, and said in a grateful
spirit : " There is an apoplexy at Albion Villa."
" Oh, indeed. Sir I" and Munday junior's eyes
sparkled.
" But I have bled and cupped him."
"All right, Sir: Til be on the look-out; and
thank you."
About two in the morning a fly drove rapidly
up to the villa, and Sampson got out.
He found David pale and muttering, and his
wife and children hanging over him in deep dis-
He shook hands with them in silence, and
eyed the patient keenly. He took the night-cap
off", removed the pillows, lowered his head and
said, quietly, "This is the cold fit come on:
we must not shut our eyes on the pashint. Why
what is this? he has been cupped 1" And
Sampson changed color, and his countenance
fell.
Mrs. Dodd saw, and began to tremble: "I
could not hear from you ; and Dr. Short and
Mr. Osmond felt quite sure : and he seems bet-
ter. Oh, Doctor Sampson, why were you not
here? We have bled him as well. Oh, don*t,
don*t, don't say it was wrong ! He would have
died : they said so. Oh, David 1 David I jronr
wife has killed you." And she knelt and kissed
his hand and implored bis pardon, insensible.
VEBY HARD CASH.
Ill
Julia clung sobbing to her mother, in a vain
attempt to comfort her.
Sampson groaned :
" No, no,'* said he ; " don*t go on so, my poor
sonl ; you did all for the best ; and now we must
make the best of what is done. Hartshorn!
brandy ! and caution I For those two assassins
have tied my hands."
While applying those timid remedies, he in-
quired if the cause was known. They told him
they knew nothing; but that lUivid had been
wrecked on the coast of France, and had fallen
down senseless in the street: a clerk of Mr.
Hardie's had recognized him, and brought him
home : so Alfred said.
**Then the cause is mintal," said Sampson;
'* unless ho got a blow on the hid in bein'
wrecked."
He then examined David's head carefully, and
found a long scar.
" But this is not it," said he ; "this is old."
Mrs. Dodd clasped her hands, and assured
him it was new to her : her David had no scar
there when he left her last.
Pursuing his examination, Sampson found an
open wound in his left shoulder.
He showed it them ; and they were all as pale
as the patient in a moment. He then asked to
see his coat, and soon discovered a correspond-
ing puncture in it, which he examined long and
narrowly.
" It is a stab ^with a one^dged knife."
There was a simultaneous cry of horror.
** Don't alarm yourselves for that," said Samp-
son : " it is nothing : a mere flesh-wound. It is
the vein-wound that alarms me. This school
knows nothing about the paroxysms and remis-
sions of disease. They have bled and cupped
him for a passing Jit, It has passed into the cold
stage, but no quicker than it would have done
without stealing a drop of blood. To-morrow,
by Disease's nature, he will have another hot fit
in spite of their bleeding. Then those ijjits
would leech his temples ; and on that paroxysm
remitting by the nature of Disease, would fancy
their leeches had cured it."
The words were the old words, but the tone
and manner were so different : no shouting, no
anger : all was spoken low and gently, and with
a sort of sad and weary and worn-out air.
He ordered a kettle of hot water and a quan-
tity of mustard, and made his preparations for
the hot fit as he called it, maintaining the inter-
mittent and febrile character of all disease.
The patient rambled a good deal, but quite in-
coherently, and knew nobody.
But about eight o'clock in the morning he was
quite quiet, and apparently sleeping: so Mrs.
Dodd stole out of the room to order some coffee
for Sampson and Edward. They were nodding,
worn out with watching.
Julia, whose high-strung nature could dis-
pense with sleep on such an occasion, was on
ner knees praying for her Father.
Suddenly there came from the bed, like a
thunder-clap, two words uttered loud and furi-
ously :
"HabdibI Villain!"
Up started the drowsy watchers, and rubbed
their eyes. Thsy had heard the sound but not
Julia rose from her knees bewildered and
aghast : she had caught the strange words dis-
tinctly ; words that were to haunt her night and
day.
They were followed immediately by a loud
groan: and the stertorous breathing recom-
menced, and the face was no longer pale, but
flushed and turgid. On this Sampson hurried
Julia from the room, and, with Edward's help,
placed David on a stool in the bath, and getting
on a chair discharged half a bucket of cold wa-
ter on his head ; the patient gasped : another ;
and David shuddered, stared wildly, and put his
hand to his head : a third, and he staggered to
his feet.
At this moment Mrs. Dodd coming hastily
into the room, he looked steadily at her, and
said, "Lucy 1"
She ran to throw her arms round him, but
Sampson interfered : " Gently ! gently !" said he,
"we must have no violent emotions."
"Oh, no! I will be prudent." And she stood
quiet with her arms still extended, and cried for
joy.
They got David to bed again, and Sampson
told Mrs. Dodd there was no danger now from
the malady, but only from the remedies.
And in fact David fell into a state of weak-
ness and exhaustion, and kept muttering unin-
telligibly.
Dr. Short called in the morning, and was in-
vited to consult with Dr. Sampson. He de-
clined. "Dr. Sampson is a notorious quack:
no physician of any eminence will meet him in
consultation."
"I regret that resolution," said Mrs. Dodd,
quietly ; " as it will deprive me of the advantage
of your skill."
Dr. Short bowed stiffly : "I shall be at your
service, madam, when that empiric has given the
patient up." And he drove away.
Osmond, finding Sampson installed, took the
politic line ; he contrived to glide by fine grada-
tions into the empiric's opinions, without recant-
ing his own, which were diametrically opposed.
Sampson, before he shot back to town, asked
him to provide a good reliable nurse.
He sent a young woman of iron : she received
Sampson's instructions, and assumed the com-
mand of the sick-room ; and was jealous of Mrs.
Dodd and Julia ; looked on them as mere rival
nurses, amateurs, who, if not snubbed, might
ruin the professionals : she seemed to have for-
gotten in the hospitals all about the family afiec-
tions, and their power of turning invalids them-
selves into nurses.
The second night she got the patient all to
herself for four hours ; from eleven till two.
The ladies having consented to this arrange-
ment, in order to recruit themselves for the work
they were not so mad as to intrust wholly to a
hireling, nurse's feathers smoothed themselves
perceptibly.
At twelve the patient was muttering and mur-
muring incessantly about wrecks, and money,
and things : of which vain babble nurse showed
her professional contempt by nodding.
At 12.30 she slept.
At 1.20 she snored very loud, and woke in-
stantly at the sound.
She took the thief out of the candle, and went
like a good sentinel to look at her charge.
112
VERY HARD CASH.
He was not there.
She rubbed her eyes, and held the candle over
the place where he oaght to be ; where, in fact,
he must be ; for he was far too weak to move.
She tore the bed-clothes down : she beat and
patted the clothes with her left hand, and the
candle began to shake violently in her right.
The bed was empty.
Mrs. Dodd was half asleep when a harried
tap came to her door : she staited up in a mo-
ment, and great dread fell on her; was David
sinking?
**MaamI Ma'am! Is he here?"
" He ! Who ?" cried Mrs. Dodd, bewildered.
" Why him! he can*t be far oflf."
In a moment Mrs. Dodd had opened the door;
and her tongue and the nurse's seemed to clash
together, so fast came the agitated words from
each in turn ; and crying ** Call my son ! .Alarm
the house!" Mrs. Dodd darted into the sick-
room. She was out again in a moment, and
np in the attics rousing the maids, while the
nurse thundered at Edward's door, and Julia's,
and rang every bell she could get at. The in-
mates were soon alarmed, and flinging on their
clothes : meantime Mrs. Dodd and the nurse
scoured the house and searched every nook in
it down to the very cellar ; they found no David.
But they found something.
The street door ajar.
It was a dark, drizzly night.
Edward took one road, Mrs. Dodd and Eliza*
beth another.
They were no sooner gone than Julia drew the
nurse into a room apart, and asked her eagerly
if her father had said nothing.
* ' Said nothing, Miss ? Why he was a talking
all the night incessant."
''Did he say any thing particular? Think
now."
"No, Miss: he went on as they all do just
before a change. I never minds 'em ; I bear so
much of it."
** Oh nurse I nurse I have pity on me ! try and
recollect."
**WeIl, Miss, to oblige you then ; it was mostly
fights this time and wrecks and villains and
bankers and sharks."
"Bankers? ? !" asked Julia, eagerly.
** Yes, Miss, and villains ; they come once or
twice ; but most of the time it was sharks, and
ships, and money, and hotch-potch I call it the
way they talk : bless your heart they know no
better: every thing they ever saw, or read, or
heard tell of, it all comes out higgledy piggledy
just before they goes off: we that makes it a
business never takes no notice of what they says.
Miss : and never repeats it out of one sick-house
into another: that you may rely on."
Julia scarcely heard this: her hands were
tight to her brow, as if to aid her to think with
aU her force.
The result was, she told Sarah to put on her
bonnet : and rushed up stairs.
She was not gone three minutes ; but in that
short interval t^e nurse's tongue and Sarah's
clashed together swiftly and incessantly.
Julia heard them. She came down vnth a
long cloak on, whipped the hood over her head,
beckoned Sarah quickly, and darted out.
Sarah followed instinctively, but, ere they had
gone many yards from the l^use, said,
" Oh, Miss, nurse thinks you had much better
not go."
" Nurse thinks ! Nurse thinks ! What does
she know of me and my griefs?"
"Why, Miss, she is a very experienced wo-
man, and she says Oh dear ! oh dear! And
such a dark, cold night for you to be out !"
" Nurse ? Nurse ? What did she say ?"
"Oh, I haven't the heart to tell you: if you
would but come back home with me! She says
as much as that poor master's troubles will be
over long before we can get to him." And with
this Sarah burst out sobbing.
"Come quicker," cried Julia, despairingly.
But after a while she said, " Tell me ; only don't
stop me."
"Miss, she says she nursed Mr. Campbell, the
young curate that died last Harvest-time but
one, you know ; and he lay just like master, and
she expecting a change every hour: and oh.
Miss, she met him coming down stairs in his
night-gownd: and he said, 'Nurse, I am all
right now,' says he, and died momently in her
arms at t^e stair-foot. And she nursed an old
farmer that lay as weak as master, and, just
when they looked for him to go, lo and behold
him dressed and out digging potatoes, and fell
down dead before they could get hands on him
mostly : and nurse have a fHend, that have seen
more than she have, which she is older than
nurse, and says a body's life is all one as a rush-
light, flares up strong momently, just before it
goes out altogether. Dear heart, where ever are
we going to in the middle of the night ?"
"Don't you see? to the quay."
"Oh, don't go there. Miss, whatever! I can't
abide the sight of the water, when a body's in
trouble." Here a drunken man confronted them,
and asked them if they wanted a beau : and, on
their slipping past him in silence, followed them,
and offered repeatedly to treat them. Julia
moaned, and hurried faster. "Oh, Miss," said
Sarah, "what could you expect, coming out at
this time of night ? I'm sure the breath is all
out of me ; you do tear along so."
"Tear? we are crawling. Ah, Sarah, you
are not his daughter. There, follow me ! I can
not go so slow." And she set of to run.
Presently she passed a group of women stand-
ing talking at a comer of the street ; and win^
dows were open with night-capped heads framed
in them.
She stopped a moment to catch the words;
they were talking about a ghost which was said
to have just passed do^vn the street; and dis-
cussing whether it was a real ghost, or a trick to
frighten people.
Julia uttered a low cry, and redoubled her
speed, and was soon at Mr. Richard Hardie's
door : but the street was deserted, and she was
bewildered, and began to think she had been too
hasty in her conjecture. A chill came over her
impetuosity. The dark, drizzly, silent night,
the tall masts, the smell of the river, how strange
it all seemed : and she to be there alone at such
an hour.
Presently she heard voices somewhere near.
She crossed over to a passage that seemed to
lead toward them; and then she heard the
voices plainly, and among them one that did not
VERY HARD CASH.
113
mingle with the others, for it was the voice she
lored. She started back and stood irresolute.
Would he be displeased with her?
Feet came trampling slowly along the passage.
His voice came with them.
She drew back and looked round for Sarah.
While she stood fluttering, the footsteps came
dose, and there emerged from the passage into
the full light of the gas-lamp Alfred and two
policemen carrying a silent, senseless figure, in
a night-gown, with a great-coat thrown over part
(^him.
It was her Father ; mute and ghastly.
The policemen still tell of that strange meet-
ing under the gaslight by Hardie's Bank ; and
how the young lady flung her arms round her
father's head, and took him for dead, and kissed
his pale cheeks, and moaned over him ; and how
the young gentleman raised her against her will,
and sobbed over her ; and how they, though po-
licemen, cried like children. And to them I
must refer the reader: I have not the skill to
convey the situation.
They got more policemen to help, and carried
him to Albion Villa.
On the way, something cold and mysterious
seemed to have come between Julia and Alfred.
They walked apart in gloomy silence, broken
only by foreboding sighs.
I pass over the tempest of emotions under
which that sad burden entered Albion Villa,
and hurry to the next marked event.
Next day the patient had lost his extreme
pallor, and wore a certain uniform sallow hue ;
and at noon, just before Sampson's return, he
opened his eyes wide and fixed them on Mrs.
Bodd and Julia, who were now his nurses.
They hailed this with delight, and held their
breath to hear him speak to them the first sweet
words of reviving life and love.
But soon to their surprise and grief they found
he did not know them. They spoke tp him, each
in turn, and told him piteously who they were,
and implored him with tears to know them, and
speak to them. But no, he fixed a stony gaze
on them that made them shudder; and their
beloved voices passed over him like an idle wind.
Sampson, when he came, found the l^es
weeping by the bedside.
They greeted him with afifection Julia es-
pecially: the boisterous controversialist had come
out a gentle, zealous artist, in presence of a real
danger.
Br. Sampson knew nothing of what had hap-
pened in his absence. He stepped to the bed-
side cheerfully, and the ladies* eyes were bent
keenly on his face in silence.
He had no sooner cast eyes on David than his
countenance fell, and his hard but expressive
features filled with concern.
That was enough for Mrs. Dodd: "And he
does not know me," she cried: "he does not
know my voice. His voice would call me back
from the grave itself. He is dying. He will
never speaJk to me again. Oh, my poor orphan
girl!"
"No! no!" said Sampson, "you are quite
mistaken : he will not die. But "
His tongue said no more. His grave and
ombre face spoke volumes.
CHAPTER XXV.
To return to the Bank : Skinner came back
from the Dodds' that miserable afternoon in a
state of genuine agitation and regret. He was'
human, and therefore mixed ; and their desola-
tion had shocked him.
The footman told him Mr. Hardie was not at
home ; gone to London, he believed. Skinner
walked away dejected. What did this mean ?
Had he left the country?
He smiled at his fears, and felt positive Mr.
Hardie had misled the servants, and was quietly
waiting for him in the Bank parlor.
It was now dusk : he went round to that little
dark nook of the garden the parlor window open-
ed on, and tapped : there was no reply ; the room
looked empty. He tried the sash : it yielded :
Mr. Hardie had been too occupied with embez-
zling another's property to take common precau-
tions in defense of his own ; never in his life be-
fore had he neglected to fasten the iron shutters
with his own hand, and to-day he had left the
very window unfastened. This augured ill. "He
is off^: he has done me along with the rest,"
thought Skinner. He stepped into the room,
found a lucifer box, shut the shutters, lighted a
candle, and went peering about among the Bank-
er's papers, to see if he could find a clew to his
intentions : and, as he pottered and peered, he
quaked as well : a detector by dishonest means
feels thief-like ; and is what he feels. He made
some little discoveries, that guided him in his
own conduct ; he felt ndore and more sure his
employer would outwit him if he could ; and re-
solved it should be diamond cut diamond.
The church clock struck one.
He started at the hour, crept out, and closed
the window softly: then away by the garden gate.
A light was still burning in Alfred's room : '
and at this Skinner had another touch of com-
punction ; " There is one won't sleep this night,
along of our work," thought he.
At three next afternoon Mr. Hardie reap-
peared.
He had gone up to town to change the form of
the deposit : He took care to think of it as a de-
posit still, the act of deposit having been com-
plete, the withdrawal incomplete, and by no fauft
of his, for he had oflbred it back ; but Fate and
Accident had interposed He had converted the
notes into gold direct, and the bills into gold
through notes ; this was like going into the river
to hide his trail. Next process : he turned his
gold into 500 notes ; and came flying home with
them.
His return was greeted by Skinner with a sigh
of relief. Hardie heard it, interpreted it aright,
and sent for him into the parlor : and there told
him, with a great affectation of frankness, what
he had done : then asked significantly if there
was any news at Albion Villa.
Skinner, in reply, told Mr. Hardie of the
distress he had witnessed up at Albion Villa:
"And, Sir," said he, lowering his voice, "Mr.
Alfred helped carry the body up stairs. It is
a nice mess altogether. Sir, when you come to
think."
" Ah ! all the better," was the cool reply, " he
will be useful to let us know what we want ; he
will tell Jane, ai^tfane me. You don't think
he will live, do yoBl"
lU
VERY HARD CASH.
"Live! no: and then who will know the
money is here ?'*
"Who should know ? Did not he say he had
just landed, and been shipwrecked? Ship-
wrecked men do not bring fourteen thousand
pounds ashore." The speaker's eyes sparkled;
Skinner watched him demurely. " Skinner,"
said he, solemnly, "I believe my daughter Jane
is right ; and that Providence really interferes
sometimes in the affairs of this world : you know
how I have struggled, to save my family from
disgrace and poverty : those struggles have failed
in a great degree : but Heaven has seen them,
and saved this money from the sea, and dropped
it into my very hands to retrieve my fortunes
with. * * I must be grateful : spend a portion of
it in charity ; and rear a noble fortune on the
rest. Confound it all !"
And his crest-fallen countenance showed some
ugly misgiving had flashed on him quite sud-
denly.
"What, Sir? what?'* asked Skinner, eagerly.
"The receipt?!"
CHAPTER XXVI.
"The receipt ? Oh, is that all ? you have got
that," said Skinner, very coolly.
"What makes you think so?" inquired the
other, keenly. He instantly suspected Skinner
of having it.
"Why, Sir, I saw it in his hand."
"Then it has got to Albion Villa; and we
are ruined."
"No, no. Sir ; you won't hear me : I am sure
I saw it fall out of his hand when he was taken
.ill : and I think, but I won't be sure, he fell on
it. Any way, there was nothing in his hands
when I delivered him at Albion Villa; so it
must be here : I dare say you have thrown it
into a drawer or somewhere, promiscuously."
"No, no. Skinner,** said Mr. Hardie, with
increasing alarm : " it is useless for us to deceive
ourselves : I was not three minutes in the room,
and thought of nothing but getting to town and
cashing the bills."
He rang the bell sharply, and on Betty coming
in asked her what she had done with that paper
that was on the floor.
"Took it up and put it on the table. Sir.
This was it, I think.** And she laid her finger
upon a paper.
"No, no!'* said Mr. Hardie: "the one I
mean was much smaller than that.*'
"What," said she, with that astonishing mem-
ory for trifles people have who never read, "was
it a little crumpled-up paper? lying by the bask-
et?"
"Yes! yes ! that sounds like it."
"Oh, I put that into the basket.'*
Mr. Hardie's eye fell directly on the basket,
but it was empty. She caught his glance, and
told him she had emptied it in the dust-hole as
usual. Mr. Hardie uttered an angry exclama-
tion. Betty, an old servant of his wife's, re-
sented it with due dignity by tossing her head
as she retired.
"There is no help for it," said Mr. Hardie,
bitterly; "we must go andub in the dust-
Iiole now. " ^
"Why, Sir, your name is not on it after all.**
"What does that matter? A man is bound
by the act of his agent : besides it is my form,
and my initials are on it. Come, let us put a
good face on the thing.** And he led the way
to the kitchen ; and got up a little laugh, and
asked the scullery-inaid if she could show Mr.
Skinner and him the dust-hole. She stared,
but obeyed, and the pair followed her, making
merry.
The dust-hole was empty.
The girl explained : " It is the dustman's day :
he came at eleven o'clock in the morning and
carr'd all the dust away : and grumbled at the
paper and the bones he did. So I told him
beggars mustn't be choosers : just like his im-
pudence ! when he gets it for nothing, and sells
it for a mint outside the town." The unwonted
visitors left her in dead silence almost before she
had finished her sentence.
Mr. Hardie sat do\vn in his parlor thoroughly
discomposed ; Skinner watched him furtively.
At last the former broke out: "This is the
devil's doing; the devil in person. No intelli-
gence nor ability can resist such luck. I almost
wish we had never meddled with it : we shall
never feel safe, never be safe.*'
Skinner made light of the matter treated the
receipt as thrown into the sea. "Why, Sir,**
said he, "by this time it will have found its way
to that monstrous heap of ashes on the London
road ; and who will ever look for it there ? or
notice it if they find it?'* Hardie shook his
head: "That monstrous heap is all sold every
year to the farmers. That Receipt, worth
14,000 to me, will be strewed on the soil for
manure: then some farmer's man, or farmer*8
boy that goes to the Sunday school, will read it,
see Captain Dodd's name, and bring it to Albion
Villa in hopes of a sixpence : a sixpence. Heav-
en help the man who does a doubtful act, and
leaves damnatory evidence, on paper, kicking
about the world."
From that hour the cash Hardie carried in his
bosom, without a right to it, began to blister.
He thought of telling the dustman he had lost
a paper, and setting him to examine the mount-
ain of ashes on the London Road: but here
caution stepped in ; how could he describe the
papjur without awakening curiosity and defeat-
ing nis own end ? He gave that up. It was
better to let the sleeping dog lie.
Finally, he resolved to buy security in a world
where after all one has to buy every thing ; so
he employed an adroit agent, and quietly pur-
chased that mountain, the refuse of all Banking-
ton. But he felt so ill used, he paid for it in
his own notes ; by this means the treaty reverted
to the primitive form of barter :* ashes for rags.
This transaction he concealed from his con-
federate.
When he had completed it, he was not yet
secure; for another day had passed, and Cap-
tain Dodd alive still. Men often recover from
apoplexy, especially when they survive the first
twenty-four hours. Should he live, he would
not now come into any friendly arrangement
with the man who had so nearly caused his
death. So then good-by to. the matrimonial
* Or exchange of commodities without the aid of money:
see Homer, and Welsh Yillagea, passim.
VERY HARD CASH.
115
combination Hardie had at first relied on to
patch his debt to Alfred, and his broken fortunes.
Then as to keeping the money and defying Dodd,
that would be very difficult and dangerous ; mer-
cantile bills are traceable things: and criminal
prosecutions awkward ones. He found himself
m a situation he could not see his way through
by any mental effort ; there were so many objec-
tions to every course, and so many to its oipo-
site. *'Ho walked among fires," as the Latins
say. But the more ho ])ondcred on the course
to' bo taken should Dodd live, the plainer did
this dilemma stare him in the face ; either he
must refund, or fly the country with another
man's money, and leave behind him the name
of a thief. Parental love, and the remains of
self-respect, writhed at this thought ; and with
these combined a sentiment less genuine, but by
no means feeble the love of reputation. So it
was with a reluctant and sick heart ho went to
the shipping-office, and peered at the posters to
see when the next ship sailed for the United
States. S^till he did go.
Intent on his own schemes, and expecting
every day to be struck in front, he did not ob-
8cr'e that a man in a rusty velveteen coat fol-
lowed him, and observed this act ; and indeed
all his visible acts.
Another perplexity was, when ho should
break. There were objections to doing it im-
mediately ; and objections to putting it off.
With all this the man was in a ferment : by
day he sat waiting and fearing, by night ho lay
sleepless and thinking ; and, though his stoical
countenance retained its composure, the furrows
deepened in it, and the iron nerves began to
twitch at times, from strain of mind and want
of sleep, and that rack, suspense. Not a night
that he did not awaken a dozen times from his
brief dozes with a start, and a dread of exposure
by some mysterious, unforeseen, means.
It is remarkable how truths sometimes flash
on men at night in hours of ncFvous excitement :
it was in one of these nightly reveries David
Dodd*s pocket-book flashed back upon Mr. Har-
die. He saw it before his eyes quite plain, and
on the inside of tlio leather cover a slip of paper
pasted, and written on in pencil or pale ink, he
could not recall which.
What was that writing? It might bo the
numbers of the notes, the description of the bills.
Why had he not taken it out of the dying man*s
pocket? "Fool! foolT he groaned; "to do
any thing by halves."
Another night he got a far severer shock.
Lying in his bed dozing, and muttering, as usu-
al, he was suddenly startled out of that uneasy
slumber by three tremendous knocks at the street
door.
He sprang out of bed, and in his confusion
made sure the officers of justice were come for
him : ho began to huddle on his clothes with a
Tague notion of flight.
He had got on his trowsers and slippers, and
was looking under his pillow for the fatal cash,
when he heard himself called loudly and repeat-
edly by name; but this time the sound came
from the garden into which his bedroom looked.
He opened it very softly, in trepidation and won-
der, which were speedily doubled by what met
his eyes ; for there, right in front of his window,
itooa on unearthly figure ; corresponding in ev-
ery particular to that notion of a ghost in which
we are reared, and which, when our nerves are
healthy, we can ridicule as it deserves; but
somehow it is never cleaned out of our imag-
ination so thoroughly as it is out of our judg-
mcnt.
The figure was white as a sheet, and seemed
supcmaturally tall ; and it cried out in a voice
like a wounded lion's, ** You villain ! you Har-
die I give me back my money : my fourteen thou-
sand pounds. Give me my children's money, or
may your children die before your eyes: give
me my darlings' money ; or may the eternal
curse of God light on you and yours, you scoun-
drel 1"
And the figure kneeled on the grass, and re-
peated the terrible imprecation almost in the
same words ; that Hardie shrank back, and, reso-
lute as he was, cowered with superstitious awe.
But this sentiment soon gave way to ^nilgar
fears ; the man would alarm the town. And in
fact Mr. Hardie, in the midst of his agitation,
was dimly conscious of hearing a window open
softly not very far from him. But it was a dark
night. He put his head out in great agitation,
and whispered, "Hush! hush! And I'll bring
it you down directly."
Internally cursing his hard fate, he got the
fatal cash ; put on his coat ; hunted for the key
of the Bank parlor, and, having found it, went
softly down the stairs, unlocked the door, and
went to open the shutters.
At this moment his ear caught a murmur ; a
low buzzing of voices in the garden.
He naturally thought that Captain Dodd was
exposing him to some of the townspco])le ; ho
was puzzled what to do; and, like a cautious
man as ho was, i*cmained passive, but on tho
watch.
Presently the voices were quiet, and he heard
footsteps come very slowly toward the window
at which he stood, and then make for tlio little
gate. On this he slipped into the kitchen, which
faced the street, and got to a window there, and
listened. His only idea was to catch their inten-
tions, if possible, and meet them accordingly.
He dared not open the window ; for above him
on the pavement he saw a female figure half
standing, half crouching : but soon that figure
rushed wildly out of his sight to meet the foot-
steps, and then he ventured to open the window,
and, listening, heard cries of despair and a young
heart-broken voice say her father was dead.
** Ah ! that is all right," muttered Hardie.
Still even this profound egotist was not yet so
hardened but that he felt one chill of horror at
himself for tho thought ; a passing chill.
He listened and listened ; and by-and-by he
heard the slow feet recommence their journey,
amidst sobs and sighs ; and those sorrowful feet,
and the sobs and sighs of his causing, got fainter
and fainter, retreated, and left him in quiet pos-
session of the fourteen thousand pounds ho had
brought down to give it up : two minutes ago it
was not worth as many pence to him.
He drew a long breath of relief. ** It is mine ;
I am to keep it. It is tho will of Heaven."
Poor Heaven I
He went to his bed again, and by a resolute
efibrt composed himself, and determined to sleep.
And in fact ho was just dropping off, when sud-
denly he started wide awake again : for it ro-
116
VERY HARD CASH.
curred to him vividly that a window in his honse
had opened, while David was cursing him and
demanding his children's money.
Whose window ?
Half a dozen people and more slept on that
side of the house.
Whose window could it he?
Ho walked among fires.
CHAPTER XXVII.
A LrrTLB crowd of persons stood in front of
the old Bank, looking half stupefied at the shut-
ters, and at a piece of paper pasted on them an-
nouncing a suspension, only for a month or so,
and laying the blame on certain correspondents
not si)ecified.
So great was the confidence inspired by the
old Bank, that many said it would come round,
it must come round, in a month : but other of
Mr. Hardie's unfortunate clients recognized in
the above a mere formula to let them down by
degrees : they had seen many statements as hope-
ful end in a dividend of sixpence in the pound.
Before the day closed the scene at the Bank
door was heart-rending : respectable persons, re-
duced to pauperism in that one day, kept arriv-
ing and telling their fcllow-sufierers their little
all was with Hardie, and nothing before them
but the work-house or the alms-house : ruined
mothers came and held up their ruined children
for the Banker to sec ; and the doors were ham-
mered at, and the house as well as the Bank
was beleaguered by a weeping, wailing, despair-
ing crowd.
But, like an idle wave beating on a rock, all
this human misery dashed itself in vain against
the Banker's brick walls and shutters, hard to
them as his very heart.
The next day they mobbed Alfred and hissed
him at the backdoor. Jane was too ashamed
and too fiightened to stir out. Mr. Hardie sat
calmly putting the finishing strokes to his fabri-
cated balance-sheet.
Somo innocent and excited victims went to
the mayor for redress; to the aldermen, the
magistrates : in vain.
Toward afternoon the Banker's cool contempt
fbr his benefactors, whose lives he had darkened,
received a temporary check ; a heavy stone was
flung at the Bank shutters : this ferocious blow
made him start, and the place rattle : it was the
signal for a shower ; and presently tink, tink,
went the windows of the house, and in came the
stones starring the mirrors, upsetting the chairs,
denting the papered walls, chipping the mantle-
pieces, shivering the bell-glasses and statuettes,
and strewing the room with dirty pebbles, and
painted fragments and glittering ruin.
Hardie winced : this was the sort of appeal to
touch him. But soon he recovered his sang
froid : **Thank you," said he, "I'm much obliged
to you ; now I'm in the right and you are in
the wrong." And he put himself under pro-
tection of the police ; and fee'd them so roydly
that they were zealous on his behalf, and rough
and dictatorial even with those who thronged
the place only to moan and lament and hold up
their ruined children : " You must move on, you
Miser}', " said the Police. And they were right ;
Misery gains nothing by stopping the way; no-
thing b^ bemoaning itself.
But if the Banker, naturally egotistical, and
now entirely wrapped in his own plans, and
fears, and well-earned torments, was deaf to the
anguish of his clients, there were others in his
house who felt it keenly and deeply. Alfred and
Jane were heart-broken : they sat hand in hand
in a little room, drawn closer by misfortune ; and
heard the groans at their door ; and the tears of
pity ran down their own cheeks hot with shame ;
and Alfred wrote on the fly-leaf of his " Ethics"
a vow to pay every shilling his father owed these
poor people before he died. It was like him,
and like his happy age ; at which the just and
the generous can command, in imagination, the
means to do kindred deeds.
Soon he found, to his horror, that he had seen
but a small per-centage of the distress his fa-
ther had caused; the greater griefs, as usual,
staid at home : behind the gadding woes lay a
terrible number of silent, decent, ruined homes,
and broken hearts, and mixed sorrows so un-
merited, BO complicated, so piteous, and so cruel,
that he was ready to tear his hair to know them
and not be able to relieve them instantly.
Of that mere sample I give a mere sample:
divine the bulk then ; and revolve a page of hu-
man history often turned by the people, but too
little studied by statisticians and legislators.
Mr. Esgar, a n'spectable merchant, had heavy
engagements, to meet which his money lay at
the old Bank. Living at a distance, he did not
hear the news till near dinner-time : and he had
promised to take his daughters to a ball that
night. He did so; left them there ; went home,
packed up their clothes and valuables, and next
day levanted with them to America, taking all
the money he could scrape together in London :
and so he passed his ruin on to others. Esgar
was one of those who wear their honesty long;
but loose : it was his first disloyal act in busi-
ness : " Dishonesty made me dishonest," was his
excuse. Valeat quantum.
John Shaw, a steady footman, had saved and
saved, from twenty-one years old to thirty-eight,
for ** Footman's Paradise," a public house. He
was now engaged to a comely bar-maid, who sym^
pathized with him therein, and he had just con-
cluded a bargain for the "Rose and Crown" in
the suburbs. Unluckily for him the money
had not been paid over. The blow fell : he lost
his all ; not his money only, but his wasted life.
He could not be 21 again : 'so he hanged himself
within forty-eight hours, and was buried by the
parish grumbling a little, pitring none.
James and Peter Gilpin, William Scott, and
Joel Paton, were poor fishermen, and Anglo-
Saxon heroes ; that's heroes with an eye to the
main chance ; they risked their lives at sea to
save a ship and get salvage ; failing there they
risked their lives all the same, like fine fellows
as they were, to save the crew. They succeeded,
but ruined their old boat. A subscription was
raised, and prospered so, that a boat-builder
built them a new one on tick, price eighty-five
pounds; and the publicans said "Drink, boys,
drink ; the subscription will cover all : it is up
to 120 already." The subscription money was
swallowed with the rest, and the An^lo-Saxon
heroes hauled to prison.
Doctor Phillips, aged 74, warned by growing
VEEY HARD CASH.
117
infirmities, had sold a tidy practice, with honse,
furniture, and good-will, for a fair price; and
put it in the Bank, awaiting some investment.
The money was gone now, and the poor old doc-
tor, with a wife and daughter and a crutch, was
at once a pauper and an exile : for he had sold
under the usual condition, not to practice within
80 many miles of his successor. He went to that
successor, and begged permission to be his assist-
ant at a small, small, salary. ** I want a youn-
ger man," was the reply. Then he went round
to his old patients, and begged a few half guineas
to get him a horse and chaise and keep him over
the first month in his new place. They pitied
hhn, but most of them were sufferers too by Har-
die, and all they gave him did but buy a donkey
and cart ; and with that he and his went slowly
and sadly to a village ten miles distant from the
place where all his life had been spent in com-
fort and good credit. The poor old gentleman
often looked back from his cart at the church
spires of Barkington.
From seventeen till now almost founcoro,
There lived he, but now lived there no more.
At seventeen many their fortunes seek ;
But at fourscore it is too old a week.
Arrived at his village he had to sell his donkey,
and trust to his crutch. And so Infirmity crept
about begging leave to cure Disease witli what
success may be inferred from this : Miss Philli])s,
a lady-like girl of eighteen, was taken up by
Farmer Giles before Squire Langton, for steal-
ing turnips out of a field : the farmer was hard,
and his losses in Hardic's bank had made him
bitter hard, so the poor girl's excuse, that she
could not let her father starve, had no effect on
him : to jail she should go.*
Took to the national vice, and went to the na-
tional dogs, Thomas Fisher, a saving tinman,
and a bachelor : so I expect no pity for him.
To the same goal, by thu same road, dragging
their families, went the Rev. Henry Scudamore, a
curate ; Philip Hall, a linen-draper ; Neil Pratt,
a shoemaker; Simon Harris, a green-grocer;
and a few more ; but the above were all prudent,
laborious men, who took a friendly gloss, but sel-
dom exceeded, until Hardie's bankruptcy drove
them to the devil of drink for comfort.
Turned professional thief, Joseph Locke, work-
ing locksmith, who had just saved money enough
to buy a shop and good-will; and now lost it
every penny.
Turned Atheist, and burned the family Bible
before his weeping wife and terrified children
and gaping servant girl, Mr. Williams, a Sun-
day-school teacher, known hitherto only as a
mild respectable man, a teetotaler, and a good
parent and husband. He did not take to drink-
ing ; but he did to cursing ; and forbade his own
flesh and blood ever to enter a church again.
This man became an outcast, shunned by dl.
Three elderly sisters, the Misses Lunley, well
bom and bred, lived together on their funds
which, small singly, united made a decent com-
petence. Two of them had refused marriage in
I find, however, that Squire Langton resolutely re-
fosed to commit Miss Phillips. The real reason, 1 8U!pect,
vas that ho had a respect for the 0)fpel, and not much
for the law, except those invaluable clauses which rcHtraiu
poadiinir. The reason he gaw was Turnips be hanged !
If she hadn't eaten them, the fly would.** HowtfTer, he
imnd mraoH to muzzle Qiles, and sent the old doctor two
ooaple of rabbits.
early life for fear the third should fall into less
tender hands than theirs. For Miss Blanche
Lunlev was a cripple : disorder of the spine had
robbed her, in youth's very bloom, of the power
not only to dance, as you girls do, but to walk
or even stand upright ; leaving her two active
little hands, and a heart as nearly angelic as wo
are likely to see here on earth.
She lay all day long, on a little iron bedstead,
at the window of their back parlor that looked
on a sunny little lawn ; working eagerly for the
poor; teaching the poor, young and old, to
read, chiefly those of her own sex ; hearing the
sorrows of the poor, composing the quarrels of
the poor, relieving their genuine necessities with
a little money, and much ingenuity, and labor.
Some poor woman, in a moment of inspira-
tion, called Miss Blanche ^'the sunshine of the
poor.** The word was instantly caught up in
the parish, and had now this many^years gently
displaced "Lunley, "and settled on her here be-
low, and its echo gone before her up to Heaven.
The poor "sunshine of the poor" was happy :
Life was sweet to her. To know whether this, is
so, it is useless to inquire of the back-bone ; or
the limbs: look at the face! She lay at her
window in the kindred, sunshine, and in a world
of sturdy, able, agile cursors, grumblers, and
yawners, her face, pale as ashes, wore the eternal
sunshine of a happy, holy^ smile.
But there came one to her bedside and told
her the Bank was broken, and all the money
gone she and her sisters had lent Mr. Hardie.
The saint clasped her hands and said, **0h
my poor people ! What will become of them ?"
And the tears ran down her pale and now sor-
rowful checks.
At this time she did not know the full extent
of their losses.
But they had given Mr. Hardie a power of
attorney to draw out all their consols. That re-
morseless man had abused the discretion this
gave him, and beggared them they were his per-
sonal friends too to swell his secret hoard.
When "the sunshine of the poor" heard this,
and knew that she was now the poorest of the
poor, she clasped her hands and cried "Oh my
poor sisters 1 my i)oor sisters!" and she could
work no more for sighing.
The next morning found the sunshine of the
poor extinct, in her little bed : ay, dead of grief
with no grain of egotism in it ; gone straight to
Heaven without one angry word against Kich-
ard Hardie or any other.
Old Betty had a horror of the work-house. To
save her old age from it she had deposited her
wages in the Bank for the last twenty years ;
and also a little legacy from Mr. Hardie's father.
She now went about the house of her master and
debtor, declaring she was sure he would not rob
her J and, if he did, she would never go into the
poor-house. "I'll go out on the common, and
die there. Nobody will miss ?rtc.**
The next instance led to consequences upon
consequences : and that is my excuse for telling
it the reader somewhat more fully than Alfred
heard it.
Mrs. Maxley, one night, found something
rough at her feet in bed. "What on earth is
this?'* said she.
118
VERY HARD CASH.
** Never you mind,*' said Maxley: "say it's
my breeches ; what then ?"
**Why what on earth does the man put his
breeches to bed for ?"
"That is my business:" roared Maxley, and
whispered dryly, "'tain't for you to wear 'em,
howsever."
This little spar led to his telling her he had
drawn out all their money : but, when she asked
the reason, he snubbed her again, indirectly ;
recommended her sleep.
The fact is the small-clothes were full of bank-
notes; and Maxley always followed them into
bed now, for fear of robbers.
The Bank broke on a Tuesday : Maxley dug
on impassive; and when curious people came
about him to ask whether he was a loser, he used
to inquire very gravely, and dwelling on every
syllable, "Do you see any thing ^green
in this here eye ?"
Friday was club-day; the clubsmen met at the
* * Greyhound" and talked over their losses. Max-
ley sat smoking complacently; and, when his
turn came to groan, he said, dryly : " I draad
all mine a week afore. (Exclamations. ) I had
a hinkling : my boy Jack he wrote to me from
Canada as how Hardies was rotten out there:
now these here Bankers they be like an oak-tree :
they do go at the limbs first, and then at the
heart." v
The club was vrroth; "What? you went and
made yourself safe and never gave any of us a
chancel Was that neighborly ? was that club-
bable?"
To a hail-storm of similar reproaches Maxley
made but one reply : " 'Twarn't my business to
take care o' yow." He added, however, a little
sulkily : "I was laad for slander once : scalded
dog fears lue-warm water."
"Oh," said one, "I don't believe him. Ho
puts a good face on it ; but his nine hundred is
gone along with oum."
"'Tain't gone far, then." With this he put
his hand in his pocket, and after some delay
pulled out a nice new crisp note and held it up :
""What is that? I ask the company."
"Looks like a ten-pun note, James."
"Well, the bulk 'grees with the sample; I
knows where to find eight score and nine to
match this here."
The note was handed round : and on inspec-
tion each countenance in turn wore a malicious
smile ; till at last Maxley, surrounded by grin-
ning faces, felt uneasy.
"What be 'e all grinning at like a litter o'
Chessy cats? wam't ye ugly enough without
showing of your rotten teeth ?"
"Haw I haw!"
"Better say 'tain't money at all, but only a
wench's curl-paper :" and he got up and snatch-
ed it fiercely out of the last inspK^ctor's hand.
" Ye can't run your rigs on me," said he.
" What an if I can't read words, I can figures ;
and I spelt the ten out on every one of them,
afore I'd take it."
A loud and general laugh greeted this boast.
Then Maxley snatched up his hat in great
wrath and some anxiety, and went out, followed
by a peal.
In five minutes he was at home, and tossed
the note into his wife's lap. She was knitting
bjr a farthing dip. "Dame!" said he, con-
trolling all appearance of anxiety, " what d' ye
caUthat?"
She took up the note and held it close to the
candle: "Why, Jem, it is a ten-pound note,
one of Hardie's as was,^*
"Then what were those fools laughing at?"
And he told her all that had happened.
Mrs. Maxley dropped her knitting and stood
up trembling : "Why you told me you had got
our money all safe out ?"
"Well, and so I have, ye foolish woman," and
he drew the whole packet out of his pocket and
flung them fiercely on the table. Mrs. Maxley
ran her finger and eye over them, and uttered a
scream of anger and despair :
"These! these be all Hardio's notes," she
cried ; " and what vally be Hardie's notes when
Hardie's be broke ?"
Maxley staggered as if he had been shot.
The woman's eyes flashed fury at him : " This
is your work, ye bom idiot : * mind your own
business' says you : you must despise your wed-
ded wife, that has more brains in her finger
than you have in all your great long useless car-
cass : you must have your secrets : one day pois-
on, another day beggary : you have ruined me,
you have murdered me: get out of my sight!
for if I find a knife I'll put it in you, I will."
And in her ungovernable passion she actually
ran to the dresser for a knife : at which Maxley
caught up a chair and lifted it furiously above
his head to fling at her.
Luckily the man had more self-command than
the woman; he dashed the chair furiously on
the floor and ran out of tlie house.
He wandered about half stupid : and present-
ly his feet took him mechanically round to his
garden. He pottered about among his plants,
looking at them, inspecting them closely, and
scarce seeing them. However he covered up
one or two, and muttered, "I think there wiU
be a frost to-night : I think there will be a frost."
Then his legs seemed to give way. He sat down
and thought of his wedding-day: he began to
talk to himself out loud, as some people do in
trouble : "Bless her comely face," said he, " and
to think I had my arm lifted to strike her, after
wearing her so long, and finding her good stuff
upon the whole. Well, thank my stars I didn't
We must make the best on't: money's gone';
but here's the garden and our hands still : and
'tain't as if we were single to gnaw our hearts
alone: wedded life cuts grief a two. Let's
make it up: and begin again. Sixty, come
Martinmas: and Susan forty-eight: and I be
amost weary of turning moulds."
He went round to his front door.
There was a crowd round it ; a buzzing crowd
with all their faces turned toward his door.
He came at their backs and asked peevishly
what was to do now. Some of the women
shrieked at his voice. The crowd turned about :
and a score of faces peered at him : some fillea
with curiosity, some with pity.
" Lord help us !" said the poor man, " is there
any more trouble afoot to-day? Stand aside^
please ; and let mo know."
"No I no !" cried a woman, " don't let him."
"Not let me go into my own house, young
won^an ?" said Maxley, with dignity : " be these
your manners?"
"Oh, James : I meant yon no ilL Poor man l**
VERY HARD CASH.
119
^*Poor soul !" said another.
** Stand aloof I" said a strange man. "Who
has as good a right to be there as he have?'*
A lane was made directly, and Maxlcy rushed
down between two rows of peering faces, with
hi3 knees knocking together, and burst into his
own house. A scream from the women inside,
as he entered, and a deep groan from the strong
man bereaved of his mate, told the tragedy.
Poor Susan Maxley was gone.
She had died of Breast-pang, within a minute
of his leaving her ; and the last words of two
&ithful spouses were words of anger.
All these things, and many more less tragic,
but very deplorable, came to Alfred Bardie's
knowledge, and galled and afflicted him deeply.
And several of these revelations heaped discredit
high upon Richard Hardie, till the young man,
bom with a keen sense of justice, and bred
among honorable minds, began to shudder at
his own Father.
Herein he was alone: Jane, with the affec-
tionate blindness of her sex, could throw her
arms round her father's neck, and pity him for
his losses by his own dishonesty and pity him
most when some victim of his unprinciplea con-
duct died, or despaired. "Poor Papa will feel
this so deeply," was her only comment on such
occasions.
Alfred was not sorry she could take this view ;
and left her unmolested to confound black with
white, and wrong with right, at affection's dic-
tates : but his own trained understanding was not
to be duped in matters of plain morality. And
go, unable to cure the wrongs he deplored, un-
able to put his conscience into his pocket, like
Richard Hardie, or into his heart like Jane, he
wandered alone, or sat brooding and dejected :
and the attentive reader, if I am so fortunate
88 to possess one, will not be surprised to learn
ihat he was troubled too with dark mysterious
surmises he half dreaded, yet felt it his duty, to
&thom. These and Mrs. Dodd's loss by the
Bank combined to keep him out of Albion Villa.
He often called to ask after Captain Dodd, but
was ashamed to enter the house.
Now Richard Hardie's anxiety to know wheth-
er David was to die or live had not declined,
but rather increased. If the latter, he was now
resolved to fly to the United States with his
booty, and cheat his alienated son along with
tiie rest : he had come by degrees down to this.
It was on Alfred he had counted to keep him
informed of David's state : but, on his putting
a smooth inquiry, the young man's face flushed
with shame, or anger, or something, and he gave
a very short, sharp, and obscure reply. In real-
ity he did not know much, nor did Sarah, his
informant : for of late the servants had never
been allowed to enter David's room.
Mr. Hardie, after this rebuff, never asked Al-
fred again ; but having heard Sampson's name
mentioned as Dodd's medical attendant, wrote
and asked him to come and dine next time he
Aonld visit Barkington: "Yon will find me a
fiiUen man," said he ; " to-morrow we resign our
hooso and premises and furniture to the assign-
ees, and go to live at a little furnished cottage
not very far from your friends the Dodds. It
is called * Shamrock Cottage.' There, where we
luiYe so little to offer besides a welcome, none
but true friends will come near us ; indeed there
are very few I should venture to ask for such a
proof of fidelity to your broken friend.
"R. H.'*
The good-hearted Sampson sent a cordial re-
ply, and came to dinner at Shamrock Cottage.
Now all Hardie wanted of him, in reality, was
to know about David ; so when Jane had retired,
and the decanter circulated, he began to pump
him by his vanity. "I understand," said he,
" you have wrought one of your surprising cures
in this neighborhood. Albion Villa !"
Sampson shook his head sorrowfully: Mr.
Hardie's eyes sparkled : Alfred watched him
keenly and bitterly.
"How can I work a great cure after those
ass-ass-ins Short and Osmond ? Look, sec ! the
man had been wounded in the hid, and lost
blood ; thin stabbed in the shoulder, and lost
more blood." Both the Hardies uttered an
ejaculation of unfeigned sui-prise. **So, instid
of recruiting the buddy thus exhausted of the
great liquid material of all repair, the profis-
sional ass-ass-in came and exhausted him worse ;
stabbed him while he slept; stabbed him un-
conscious, stabbed him in a vein : and stole more
blood from him. Wasn't that enough? No I
the routine of profissional ass-ass-ination had but
begun; nixt they stabbed him with cupping
needles, and so stole more of his life-blood. And
they were goen from their stabs to their bites,
goen to leech his temporal arteries, and so hand
him to the sixton."
"But you came in and saved him," cried Al-
fred.
"I saved his life," said Sampson, sorrowful-
ly; "but life is not th' only good thing a man
may be robbed of by those who steal his life-
blood, and so impoverish, and water, the con-
tints of the vessels of the brain."
"Doctor Sampson," said Alfred, "what do
you mean by these mysterious words ? you alarm
me."
* * What, don't you know ? Haven't they told
you?"
" No, I have not had the courage to enter the
house since the Bank '* He stopped in confu-
sion.
"Ay, I understand," said Sampson: "how-
ever, it can't be hidden now
"He IS A MANIAC."
Sampson made this awful announcement so-
berly and sorrowfully.
Alfred groaned aloud, and even his father ex-
perienced a momentary remorse ; but so steady
had been the progress of corruption, that he felt
almost unmixed joy the next instant : and his
keen-witted son surprised the latter sentiment
in his face, and shuddered with disgust.
Sampson went on to say that he believed the
poor man had gone flourishing a razor; and
Mrs. Dodd had said, "Yes, kill me, David : kill
the mother of your children," and never moved :
which feminine, or, in other words, irrational,
behavior, had somehow disarmed him. But it
would not happen again : his sister had come ;
a sensible, resolute woman. She had signed the
order, and Osmond and he the certificates, and
he was gone to a private asylum. " Talking of
that,** said Sampson, rising suddenly, "I must
go and give them a word of comfort '^ for tJasTj
120
VERY HARD CASH.
arc just breaking their hearts at parting with
him, poor things : Til be back in an hour."
On his departure Jane returned and made the
tea in the dining-room : they lived like that now.
Mr. Hardio took it from his favorite's httle
white hand, and smiled on her : he should not
have to go to a foreign land after all : who would
believe a madman if he should rave about his
thousands ? He sipped his tea luxuriously, and
presently delivered himself thus, with bland self-
satisfaction :
**My dear Alfred, some time ago you wished
to marry a young lady without fortune ; you
thought that I had a large one : and you ex-
pected me to supply all deficiencies. You did
not overrate my parental feeling ; but you did
my means : I would have done this for you, and
with pleasure, but for my own coming misfor-
tunes. As it was, I said *No.' And when you
demanded, somewhat peremptorily, my reasons,
I said * trust me.' Well, you see I was right :
sucli a marriage would have been your utter
ruin. However, I conclude, after what Dr.
Sampson has told us, you have resigned it on
other grounds. Jane, my dear, Captain Dodd, I
Km sorry to say, is afflicted. He has gone mad. "
** Gone mad ? I oh how shocking ! What will
become of his poor children ?" She thought of
Edward first.
* We have just heard it from Sampson. And
I presume, Alfred, you are not so far gone as to
insist on propagating insanity, by a marriage
witli his daughter."
At tliis conclusion, which struck her oblique-
ly, though aimed at Alfred, Jane sighed gently ;
and her dream of earthly happiness seemed to
melt away.
But Alfred ground his teeth, and replied with
great bitterness and emotion: "I think. Sir,
you are the last man who ought to congratulate
yourself on the affliction that has fallen on that
unhappy family I aspire to enter, all the more
that now they have calamities for me to share "
"More fool you," put in Mr. Hardie, calmly.
" For I much fear you are one of the causes
of that calamity."
Mr. Hardie assumed a puzzled air: "I don't
see how that can be: do you, Jenny? Samp-
son told us the causes : a wound on the head, a
wound in the arm, bleeding, cupping, etc."
"There may be other causes Dr. Sampson
has not been told of yet."
" Possibly. I really don't know what you al-
lude to."
The son fixed his eyes on the father, and lean-
ed across the table to him, till their faces nearly
mot.
"The fourteen tuousand pounds, Sib."
CHAPTER XXVra.
Mr. Hardie was taken by surprise for once,
and had not a word to say ; but looked in his
son's face, mute, and gai)ing, as a fish.
During this painful silence his children eyed
him inquiringly ; but not with the same result ;
for one face is often read differently by two per-
sons : to Jane, whose intelligence had no aids,
he seemed unaffectedly puzzled ; but Alfred dis-
cerned, beneath his wonder, the terror of detec- I
tion rising, and then thmst back by the strong
will : that stoical face shut again like an iron
door ; but not quickly enough : the right words,
the "open sesame," had been spoken, and one
unguarded look had confirmed Alfred's vague
suspicions of foul play : ho turned his own face
away: ho was alienated by the occurrences of
the last few months, but Nature and tender rem-
iniscences still held him by some fibres of the
heart : in a moment of natural indignation he
had applied the touch -stone; but its success
grieved him; he cocdd not bear to go on ex-
posing his father ; so ho left the room with a
deep sigh, in which pity mingled with shame and
regret; he wandered out into the silent night,
and soon was leaning on the gate of Albion
Villa, gazing wistfully at the windows, and sore
perplexed, and nobly wretched.
As he was going out, Mr. Hardio raised his
eyebrows with a look of disinterested wonder and
curiosity ; and touched his forehead to Jane, as
much as to say, " Is he disordered in his mind?**
As soon as they were alone, he asked her
coolly what Alfred meant. She said she had no
idea. Then ho examined her keenly about this
fourteen thousand pounds : and found, to his re-
lief, Alfred had never even mentioned it to her.
And now Richard Hardie, like his son, wanted
to be alone, and think o^'er this new peril that
had risen in the bosom of his own family : and,
for once, the company of his favorite child was
irksome : he made an excuse and strolled out in
his turn into the silent night. It was calm and
clear : the thousand holy eyes, under which men
prefer to do their crimes except when they are
in too great a hurry to wait ^looked down and
seemed to wonder any thing can be so silly as to
sin : and beneath their pure gaze the man of the
world pondered with all his soul. He tormented
himself with conjectures : through what channel
did Alfred suspect him? through the Dodds?
were they aware of their loss ? had the jfocket-
book spoken ? If so, why had not Mrs. Dodd or
her son attacked him ? But then perhaps Alfred
was their agent : they Wished to try a friendly
remonstrance through a mutual friend before
proceeding to extremities; this accorded with
Mrs. Dodd's character as he remembered her.
The solution was reasonable ; but he was re-
lieved of it by recollecting what Alfred had said,
that he had not entered the house since the bank
broke.
On this he began to hope Alfred's might be a
mere suspicion he could not establish by any
proof, and at all events he would lock it in his
own breast like a good son: his never having
given a hint even to his sister favored this sup-
position.
Thus meditating, Mr. Hardie found himself at
the gate of Albion Villa.
Yet he had strolled out with no particular in-
tention of going there. Had his mind, appre-
hensive of danger from that quarter, driven his
body thither?
Ho took a look at the house: and the first
thing he saw was a young lady leaning over the
balcony, and murmuring softly to a male figure
below, whose outline Mr. Hardie could hardly
discern, for it stood in the shadow. Mr. Hardie
was delighted : "Aha, Miss Juliet," said he, "if
Alfred does not visit you, some one else does.
You have soon supplied your peevish loTer's
VERY HARD CASH.
121
place." He then withdrew softly from the gate,
not to disturb the intrigue, and watched a few
yards off; determined to see who Julia's nightly
yisitor was, and give Alfred surprise for surprise.
He had not long to wait : the man came away
directly, and walked, head erect, past Mr. Har-
die, and glanced full in his face, but did not
Touchsafe him a word. It was Alfred himself.
Mr. Hardie was profoundly alarmed, and indig-
nant: "The young traitor! Never enter the
house? no; but he comes and tells her every
thing directly, under her window, on the sly:
and, when he is caught defies me to my face."
And now he suspected female cunning and mal-
ice in the way that thunder-bolt had been quietly
prepared for him and launched, without warning,
in his very daughter's presence, and the result
just communicated to Julia Dodd.
In a very gloomy mood he followed his son,
and heard his firm though elastic tread on the
frosty ground, and saw how loftily he carried his
head : and from that moment feared, and very,
Tery, nearly hated him.
The next day ho feigned sick, and sent for
Osmond. That worthy prescribed a pill and a
draught, the former laxative, the latter astrin-
gent. This ceremony performed, Mr. Hardie
gossiped with him ; and, after a detour or two,
glided to his real anxiety. '' Sampson tells me
vou know more about Captain Dodd's case than
he does : he is not very clear as to the cause of
the poor man's going mad."
** The cause ? Why Apoplexy."
" Yes, but I mean what caused the apoplexy ?"
Mr. Osmond replied that Apoplexy was often
idiopathic* Captain Dodd, as ho understood,
had fallen down in the street in a sudden fit :
'* but as for the mania, this is to be attributed to
an insufficient evacuation of blood while under
the apoplectic coma."
"Not bled enough! Why Sampson says it
is bfcause ho was bled too much."
Osmond was amused at this; and repeated
that' the mania came of not being bled enough.
The discussion was turned into an unexpected
quarter by the entrance of Jane Hardie, who
came timidly in and said, " Oh, Mr. Osmond, 1
can not let you go without telling you how anx-
ious I am about Alfred. He is so tjiin, and pale,
and depressed.'*
"Nonsense, Jane," said Mr. Hardie, "have
we not all cause to bo dejected in this house?'*
But she persisted gently that there was more in
it than that: and his headaches were worse : and
she oonld not be easy any longer without advice.
"Ah, those headaches," said Mr. Osmond,
"they always made me uneasy. To tell the
truth. Miss Hardie, I have noticed a remarkable
change in him, but I did not like to excite ap-
prehensions : and so he mopes, does he ? seeks
solitude, and is taciturn, and dejected?"
"Yes. But I do not mind that so much as
his turning so pale and thin."
"Oh, it is all part of one malady."
"Then you know what is the matter?"
" I think I do : and yours is a wise and timely
anxiety. Your brother's is a very delicate case
* ^^Ariaing of itself." A term rather hastily applied to
disorden the coining signs of which have not been detect-
ed by the medical attendant.
Tbe birth of Toiisy was idiopathic in that learned
Iid7*s opinion.
Of a hyperassthetic character ; and I should like
to have the advice of a profound physician.
Let me see. Dr. Wycherley will be with me to-
morrow : may I bring him over as a friend ?**
This proposal did not at all suit Mr. Hardie ;
he put his own construction on Alfred's pallor
and dejection, and was uneasy at the idea of his
being cross-questioned by a couple of doctors.
"No, no," said he, "TafF has fancies enough
already ; I can not have you gentlemen coming
here to fill his head with many more.**
"Oh, he has fancies, has he?" said Osmond,
keenly. "My dear Sir, we shall not say one
word to him: that might irritate him: but I
should like you to hear a truly learned opinion."
Jane looked so imploringly, that Mr. Hardie
yielded a reluctant assent on those terms.
So the next day, by appointment, Mr. Osmond
introduced his friend Dr. Wycherley : bland and
bald, with a fine head, and a face naturally in-
telligent, but crossed every now and then by
gleams of vacancy ; a man of large reading, and
of tact to make it subserve his interests. A vo-
luminous writer on certain medical subjects, he
had so saturated himself with circumlocution,
that it distilled from his very tongue : he talked
like an Article ; a quarterly one ; and so gain-
ed two advantages: 1st, he rarely irritated a
fellow-creature ; for, if he began a sentence hot,
what with its length, and what with its windi-
ncss, he was apt to end it cool : item stabs by
polysyllables are pricks by sponges. 2dly, this
foible earned him the admiration of fools ; and
this is as invaluable as they are innumerable.
Yet was there in the mother-tongue ho de-
spised one germ of a word he vastly admired :
like most quarterly writers. That charming
word, the pet of the polysyllabic, was "of."
He opened the matter in a subdued and sym-
pathizing tone well calculated to win a loving
father, such as Richard Hardie was not.
"Mj^ good friend hero informs me, Sir, you
are so fortunate as to possess a son of distin-
guished abilities, and who is at present laboring
under some of those precursory indications of in-
cipient disease of the cerebro-psychical organs,
of which I have been, I may say, somewhat suc-
cessful in diagnosing the symptoms. Unless I
have been inadvertently misinformed, he has^for
a considerable time, and only with slight inter-
missions, experienced persistent headache of a
kephalalgic or true cerebral type, and has now
advanced to the succeeding stage of facitumity
and depression, not* unaccompanied with isola-
tion, and, probably, constipation: but as yet
without hallucination, though possibly, and, as
my experience of the great majority of these
cases would induce me to say, probably, he is
nott undisturbed by one or more of those latent,
and, at first, trifling aberrations, either of the
intelligence, or the senses, which in their pre-
liminary stages escape the observation of all but
the expert nosologist. In that case. Sir, be as-
sured you have acted the part of a wise and af-
fectionate parent in soliciting the opportune at-
tention of a psychological Physician to these
morbid phenomena at present in the initial proc-
ess of incubation.*'
" There you see," said Osmond, "Dr.Wycher-
Anglicd, ** accompanied."
t AngUoiS ''disturbed."
122
ley apfrees with me : yet I assnre you I have only
detailed the symptoms, and not the conclasion I
had formed from them."
Jane inquired timidly what that conclusion
was.
''Miss Hardie, we think it one of those oh-
scure tendencies which are very curahle if taken
in time " Dr. Wycherley ended the sentence
" but no longer remediable if the fleeting op-
portunity is allowed to escape, and diseased ac-
tion to pass into diseased organization."
Jane looked awe-struck at their solemnity;
but Mr. Hardie, who was taking advice against
the grain, turned satirical: " Gentlemen," said
he, .4** he pleased to begin by moderating your
own obscurity ; and then perhaps I hall see bet-
ter how to cure my son's : what the deuce are
you driving at?'*
The two doctors looked at one another inquir-
ingly; and so settled how to proceed. Dr.
Wycherley explained to Mr. Hardie that there
was a sort of general unreasonable and super-
stitious feeling abroad, a kind of terror of the
complaint with which his son was threatened;
^^and which, instead of the most remediable of
disorders, is looked at as the most incurable of
maladies :" it was on this account ho had learn-
ed to approach the subject with singular cau-
tion, and even with a timidity which was kinder
in appearance than in reality ; that he must ad-
mit.
"Well, you may speak out, as far as I am
concerned," said Mr. Hardie, with consummate
indifference.
"Oh yesl" said Jane, in a fever of anxiety;
"pray conceal nothing from us."
"Well then. Sir, I have not as yet had the
advantage of examining your son personally,
but, from the diagnostics, I have no doubt what-
ever he is laboring under the first foreshadowings
of cerebro-psychical perturbation."
Jane and her father stared at him : he might
as well have recited them the alphabet back-
ward.
"Well then," said he, observing his learning
had missed fire, "to speak plainly, the symp-
toms are characteristic of the initiatory stage of
the germination of a morbid state of the phe-
nomena of intelligence."
His unprofessional hearers stared another in-
quiry.
"In one word, then," said Dr. Wycherley,
waxing impatient at their abominable obtuse-
ness, " it is the premonitory stage of tha precur-
sory condition of an organic affection of the
brain."
"Oh!" said Mr. Hardie, carelessly: "I see;
the boy is going mad."
The doctors stared in their turn at the pro-
digious coolness of a tender parent.
"Not exactly," said Dr. Wycherley; **I am
habitually averse to exaggeration of symptoms.
Your son's suggest to me *the Incubation of
Insanity,' nothing more."
Jane uttered an exclamation of horror : the
doctor soothed her with an assurance that there
was no cause for alarm. *' Incipient abeiTation"
was of easy cure; the mischief lay in delay.
"Miss Hardie," said he, paternally, "during a
long and busy professional career, it has been
my painful province to witness the deplorable
consequences of the non-recognition, by friends
VERY HA^D CASH.
and relatives, of the precedent symptoms of those
organic affections of the brain, the relief of
which was within the reach of well-known thera-
peutic agents if exhibited seasonably."
He went on to deplore the blind prejudice of
unprofessional persons; who choose to fancy
that other diseases creep, but Insanity pounces,
on a man: which he expressed thus neatly;
" that other deviations from organic conditions
of health are the subject of clearly defined
though delicate gradations, but that the worst
and most climacteric forms of cerebro-psychical
disorder are suddenly developed aficctions pre-
senting no evidence of any antecedent cephalic
organic change, and unaccompanied by a pre-
monitory stage, or by incipient symptoms."
This chimera he proceeded to confute by ex-
perience: ho had repeatedly been called in to
cases of mania described as sudden, and almost
invariably found the patient had been cranky
for years; which he condensed thus: "His
conduct and behavior for m'any years previous-
ly to any symptom of mental aberration being
noticed, had been characterized by actions quite
irreconcilable with the supposition of the exist-
ence of perfect sanity of intellect."
He instanced a parson, whom he had lately
attended, and found him as constipated and con-
vinced he was John the Baptist engaged to the
Princess Mary as could be.
"But upon investigation of this afflicted ec-
clesiastic's antecedent history, I discovered that,
for years before this, he had exhibited conduct
incompatible with the hypothesis of a mind
whose equilibrium had been undisturbed: he
had caused a number of valuable trees to be cut
down on his estate, without being able to oflfer
a sane justification for such an outrageous pro-
ceeding : and had actually disposed of a quanti-
ty of his patrimonial acres, * and which' clearly
he never would have parted with had he been in
any thing resembling a condition of sanity.*
* ' Did he sell the land and timber below the
market-price?" inquired Mr. Hardie, perking
up, and exhibiting his first symptom of interest
in the discussion.
"On that head, Sir, my informant, his heir-
at-law, gave me no information : nor did I en-
ter into that class of detail ; you naturally look
at morbid phenomena in a commercial spirit,
but we regard them medically: and, all this
time, most assiduously visiting the sick of his
parish and preaching admirable sermons."
The next instance he gave was of a (rtock-
broker suffering under general paralysis^^d a
rooted idea that all the s/jecie in the Bank of
England was his and ministers in league with
foreign governments to keep him out of it.
" Him," said the doctor, " I discovered to have
been for years guilty of conduct entirely incom-
patible with the hypothesis of undisordered men-
tal functions. He had accused his domestic of
peculation, and had initiated legal proceedings
with a view of prosecuting in a court of law one
of his oldest friends."
"Whence you infer that, if my son has not
for years been doing cranky acts, he is not like-
ly to be deranged at present."
This adroit twist of the argument rather sur-
prised Dr. Wychjcrley. However, he was at no
loss for a reply. "It is not insanity, but the
Incubation of Insanity, which is suspected in
VEET HARD CASH.
128
yonr intelligent son*8 case : and the best course
will be for mc to cuumerato in general terms the
several symptoms of ^ the Incubation of Insani-
ty:'" he concluded with some severity, "after
that, Sir, I shall cease to intrude what I fear is
an unwelcome conviction."
The Parent, whose levity and cold reception
of good tidings he had thus mildly, yet with due
dignity, rebuked, was a man of the world ; and
liked to make friends, not enemies ; so lie took
the hint, and made a very civil speech, assuring
Dr. Wycherlcy that, if ho ventured to differ from
him, he was none the less obliged by the kind
interest he took in a comparative stranger : and
would be very glad to hear all about the " In-
cubation of Insanity.'* Ho added, **The very
expression is new to me.*'
Dr. Wycherley bowed slightly ; and complied :
** One diagnostic preliminary sign of abnormal
cerebral action is Kephalalgia, or true cerebral
headache; I mean persistent headache, which
is not accompanied by a furred tongue, or other
indicia significant of abdominal or renal disorder
as its origin."
Jane sighed. *' He has sad headaches.**
"The succeeding symptom is a morbid affec-
tion of sleep. Either the patient suffers from
Insomnia ; or else from Hypersomnia, which we
subdivide into sopor, earns, and lethargus; or
thirdly from Kakosomnia, or a propensity to
mere dozing, and to all the morbid phenomena
of dreams."
"Papa," said Jane, "poor Alfred sleeps very
badly : I hear Mm walking at all hours of the
night."
"I thought as much," observed Dr. Wycher-
ley; " Insomnia is the commonest feature. To
resume ; the insidious advance of morbid thought
is -next marked by high spirits, or elser by low
spirits ; generally the latter. The patient begins
by moping, then shows great lassitude and ennui,
then becomes abstracted, moody, and occupied
with a solitary idea."
Jane clasped her hands, and the tears stood
in her eyes; so well did this description tally
with poor Alfred's case.
"And at this period," continued Dr. Wycher-
ley, "my experience leads me to believe that
some latent delusion is generally germinating in
the mind, though often concealed with consum-
mate craft by the patient : the open development
of this delusion is the next stage, and, with this
last morbid phenomenon, incubation ceases and
insanilr legins. Sometimes, however, the il-
lasioilll physical rather than psychical, of the
sense rather than of the intelligence. It com-
* meuces at night : the incubator begins by seeing
nocturnal visions, often of a photopsic* charac-
ter, or hearing nocturnal sounds, neither of
which have any material existence, being con-
veyed to his optic or auricular nerves not from
without, but from within, by the agency of a dis-
ordered brain. These the reason, hitherto un-
impaired, combats at first, especially when they
are nocturnal only : but being reproduced, and
becoming diurnal, the judgment succumbs un-
der the morbid impression produced so repeat-
edly. These are the ordinary antecedent symp-
toms characteristic of the incubation of insanity ;
to which are frequently added somatic exalta-
' LuminooM.
tion, or, in popular language, physical excita-
bility a disposition to knit the brows ^great
activity of the mental faculties or else a well-
marked decline of the powers of the understand-
ingan exaggeration of the normal conditions
of thought or a reversal of the mental habits
and sentiments, such as a sudden aversion to
some person hitherto beloved, or some study long
relished and pursued."
Jane asked leave to note these all down in her
note-book.
Mr. Ilardie assented, adroitly; for he was
thinking whether he could not sift some grain
out of all this chaff. Should Alfred blab his
suspicions, here were two gentlemen who would
at all events help him to throw ridicule on them.
Dr. Wycherley having politely aided Jane
Hardie to note down " the preliminary process
of the Incubation of disorders of the Intellect,*'
resumed : " Now, Sir, your son appears to be in
a very inchoate stage of the malady: he has
cerebral Kephalalgia and Insomnia "
"And, oh doctor, he knits his brows often;
and has given up his studies ; won't go back to
Oxford this term.'*
"Exactly; and seeks isolation, and is a prey
to morbid distraction and reverie: but has no
palpable illusions ; has he ?"
"Not that I know of," said Mr. Hardie.
"Well but,*' objected Jane, "did not he say
something to you very curious the other night ;
about Captain Dodd, and fourteen thousand
pounds ?"
Mr. Hardie*s blood ran cold :
"No," he stammered, "not that I remember.**
" Oh yes he did, papa : you have forgotten
it : but at the time you were quite puzzled what
he could mean : and you did o." She put her
finger to her forehead : and the doctors inter-
changed a meaning glance.
"I believe you are right, Jenny,'* said Mr.
Hardie, taking the cue so unexpectedly offered
him: "ho did say some nonsense I could not
make head nor tail of; but we all have onr
crotchets ; there, run away, like a good girl, and
let me explain all this to our good friends here :
and mind, not a word about it to Alfred.*'
When she was gone, he said, " Gentlemen, my
son is madly in love ; that is all."
"Oh, Erotic monomania is a very ordinary
phase of insanity."
' ' His unreasonable passion for a girl he knows
he can never marry makes him somewhat crotch-
ety and cranky : that, and overstudy, may have
unhinged his mind a little : suppose I send him
abroad? my good brother will find the means;
or we could advance it him, I and the other
trustees ; ho comes into ten thousand pounds
in a month or two."
The doctors exchanged a meaning look. They
then dissuaded him earnestly from the idea of
Continental travel.
"Coelum non animam mutant qui trans mare
currunt," said Wycherley, and Osmond explain-
ed that Alfred would brood abroad as well as at
home, if he went alone: and Dr. Wycherley
summed up thus : " The most advisable course
is to give him the benefit of the personal super-
intendence of some *8killful physician possessed
of means and appliances of every sort for sooth-
ing and restraining the specific malady."
Mr. Hardie did not at first see the exact i^vx-
124
VERY HARD CASH.
port of this oleaginous periphrasis. He knitted
his brows. Presently ho caught a glimpse : but
said he thought confinement was hardly the
thing to drive away melancholy.
" Not in all respects," replied Dr. Wycherley :
** but, on the other hand, a little gentle restraint
is the safest way of effecting a disruption of the
fatal associations that hare engendered and tend
to perpetuate the disorder. Besides, the me-
dicinal appliances arc invaluable ; including, as
they do, the nocturnal and diurnal attendance
of a Psychophysical physician, who knows the
Psychosomatic relation of body and mind, and
can apply physical remedies, of the effect of
which on the physical instrument of intelligence,
the gray matter of the brain, we have seen so
many examples."
The good doctor then feelingly deplored the
inhumanity of parents and guardians in declin-
ing to subject their incubators to opportune and
salutary restraint under the more than parental
care of a Psychosomatic physician. On this head
he got quite warm, and inveighed against the
abominable cruelty of the thing.
**It is contrary," said he, "to every principle
of justice and humanity that a fellow-creature,
deranged perhaps only on one point, should, for
the want of the early attention of those whose
duty it is to watch over him, linger out his ex-
istence separated from all who are dear to him,
and condemned without any crime to be a pris-
oner for life."
Mr. Hardie was puzzled by this sentence, in
which the speaker's usual method was reversed,
and the thought was bigger than the words.
The doctors did not interfere, but let the sug-
gestion ferment.
** Oh," said Mr. Hardie at last, " I see. We
ought to incarcerate our children to keep them
from being incarcerated."
" That is one way of putting it with a venge-
ance," said Mr. Osmond, staring. "No ; what
my good friend means "
** Is this ; where the patient is possessor of an
income of such a character as to enable his
friends to show a sincere affection by anticipa-
ting the consequences of neglected morbid phe-
nomena of the brain, there a lamentable want
of humanity is exhibited by the persistent re-
fusal to the patient, on the part of his relatives,
of the incalculable advantage of the authorita-
tive advice of a competent physician accompa-
nied with the safeguards and preventives of "
But ere the mellifluous pleonast had done oil-
ing his paradox with fresh polysyllables, to make
it slip into the Banker's narrow understanding,
he met with a curious interruption. Jane Har-
die fluttered in to say a man was at the door ac-
cusing himself of being deranged.
** How often this sort of coincidence occurs,"
said Osmond, philosophically.
" Do not refuse him, dear papa; it is not for
money : he only wants you to give him an order
to go into a lunatic asylum."
"Now, there is a sensible man," said Dr.
Wycherley.
"Well but," objected Mr. Hardie, "if he is a
sensible man, why does he want to go to an
asylum ?"
"Oh, they are all sensible at times," observed
Mr. Osmond.
'* Smf^uhrl^ so, " said Dr. Wycherley, warm-
ly. And he showed a desire to examine this
paragon, who had the sense to know he was out
of his senses.
" It would be but kind of you. Sir," said Jane ;
" poor, poor man !" She added he did not like
to come in, and would they mind just going out
to him?
"Oh no, not in the least: especially as you
seem interested in him."
And they all three rose and went out together,
and found the petitioner at the front door. Who
should it be, but James Maxley !
His beard was unshaven, his face haggard, and
every thing about him showed a man broken in
spirit as well as fortune : even his voice had lost
half its vigor, and, whenever be had uttered a
consecutive sentence or two, his head dropped on
his breast, pitiably : indeed, this sometimes oc-
curred in the middle of a sentence, and then the
rest of it died on his lips.
Mr. Richard Hardie was not prepared to en-
counter one of his unhappy creditors thus pub-
licly, and, to shorten the annoyance, would have
dismissed him roughly : but he dared not : for
Maxley was no longer alone, nor unfriended:
when Jane left him, to intercede for him, a
young man joined him, and was now comforting
him with kind words, and trying to get him to
smoke a cigar: and this good-hearted young
gentleman was the Banker's son in the flesh, and
his opposite in spirit, Mr. Alfred Hardie.
Finding these two in contact, the Doctors in-
terchanged demurest glances,
Mr. Hardie asked Maxley sullenly what he
wanted of tHem.
"Well, Sir," said Maxley, despondently, "I
have been to all the other magistrates in the bor-
ough ; for what with losing my money, and what
with losing my missus, I think I bain't quite
right in my head ; I do see such curious things,
enough to make a body's skin creep, at times."
And down went his head on his chest.
"Well?" said Mr. Hardie, peevishly: "go on:
you went to the magistrates, and what then ?"
Maxley looked up, and seemed to recover the
thread: "Why, they said 'no,* they couldn't
send me to the 'sylum, not from home : I must
be a pauper first. So then my neighbors they
said I had better come to you. " And down went
his head again.
"Well but," said Mr. Hardie, "you can not
expect me to-i^o against the other magistrates."
"Why not. Sir? You have had a hatful o'
money of me : the other gentlemen hfttk had a
farthing. They owes mo no servic^^at you
does : nine hundred pounds' worth, if ye come
to that."
There was no malice in this ; it was a plain,
broken-hearted man's notion of give and take ;
but it was a home thrust all the same ; and Mr.
Hardie was visibly discountenanced, and Alfred
more so.
Mr. Osmond, to relieve a situation so painful,
asked Maxley rather hastily what were the cu-
rious things he saw.
Maxley shuddered. "The unreasonablest
beasts, Sir, you ever saw or heard tell on : most-
ly snakes and dragons. Can't stoop my head to
do no work for them, Sir. Bless your heart, if
I was to leave you gentlemen now, and go and
dig for five minutes in my garden, they would
come about me as thick as slugs on cabbage:
VERY HARD CASH.
125
why, 'twas but yestere'en I tried to hoe a bit, and
up come the fearfullest great fiery sarpint : scared
me so I heaved my hoe and laid on un properly :
presently I seemed to come out of a sort of a
kind of a red mist into the clear ; and there laid
my poor missus's favorite hen ; I had been and
killed her for a sarpint." Ho sighed : then, aft-
er a moment's pause, lowered his voice to a whis-
per, **Now suppose I was to go and take some
poor Christian for one of these gre - at bloody
dragons I do see at odd times, I might do him
a mischief, you know, and not mean him no
harm neither. Oh dooee take and have me lock-
ed up, gentlemen, dooee now : tellee I ain't fit
to be about, my poor head is so mazed."
** Well, well," said Mr. Hardie, " I'll give you
an order for the Union."
"What, make a pauper of me?"
**I can not help it," said the magistrate: "it
is the routine ; and it was settled at a meeting
of the bench last month that we must adhere to
the rule as strictly as possible ; the asylum is so
full : and you know, Maxley, it is not as if you
were dangerous."
"That I be. Sir: I don't know what I'm a
looking at, oi?a doing. Would I ha' gone and
killed my poor Susan's hen if I hadn't a been
beside myself? and she in her grave, poor dear :
no, not for untold gold : and I be fond of that
too ; used to be, however : but now I don't seem
to care for money nor nothing else." And his
head dropped.
"Look here, Maxley, old fellow," said Alfred,
sarcastically, "you must go to thegKrork-house ;
and stay there till you hoe a pauper ; take him
for a crocodile, and kill him ; then you will get
into an asylum whether the Barkington magis-
trates like it or not : that is the routine^ I believe ;
and as reasonable as most routine."
Dr. Wycherley admired Alfred for this, and
whispered Mr. Osmond, " How subtly they rea-
son."
Mr. Hardie did not deign to answer his son,
who indeed had spoken at him, and not to
him.
As for poor Maxley, he was in sad and sober
earnest, and could not relish nor even take in
Alfred's irony: he lifted his head and looked Mr.
Hardie in the face.
"You be a hard man:** said he, trembling
with emotion. " You robbed me and ray missus
of our all, you ha' broke her hpart, and turned
my hegd , and if I was to col&e and kill you
'twodnftily be clearing scores. 'Stead of that I
comcsvD you like a lamb, and says give me your
name on a bit of paper, and put me out of harm's
way. * No,' says you, * go to the work-house !'
Be you in the work-house ? You that owes me
nine hundred pounds and my dead missus?"
With this he went into a rage, took a packet out
of his pocket, and flung it at Mr. Hardie's head
before any one could stop him.
But Alfred saw his game, stepped forward, and
caught it with one hand, and with the dexterity
of a wicket-keeper, within a foot of his father's
nose. " How's that. Umpire ?" said he : then, a
little sternly, " Don't do that again, Mr. Maxley,
or I sliall have to give you a hiding to keep up
appearances." He then put the notes in his pock-
et, and said, quietly, "/shall give you your mon-
ey for these, before the year ends."
"You won't be quite so mad as that, I hope,"
remonstrated his father. But he made no reply :
they very seldom answered one another now.
"Oh," said Dr. Wycherley, inspecting him
like a human curiosity, "nullum magnum in-
genium sine mixture dementisB."
"Nee parvum sine mixture stultitise," retort-
ed Alfred in a moment : and met his offensive
gaze with a point-blank look of supercilious dis-
dain.
Then, having shut him up, he turned to Os-
mond : " Come," said he, " prescribe for this poor
fellow, who asks for a hospitad, so Routine gives
him a work-house : come, you know there is no
limit to your skill and good-nature : you cured
Spot of the worms, cure poor old Maxley of his
snakes ; oblige me."
" That I will, Mr. Alfred," said Osmond, heart-
ily : and wrote a prescription on a leaf of his
memorandum book, remarking that, though a
simple purgative, it had made short work of a
great many serpents, and dragons, and not a few
spectres and hobgoblins into the bargain.
The young gentleman thanked him graciously,
and said kindly to Maxley, " get that made up
here's a guinea and I'll send somebody to see
how you are to-morrow."
The poor man took the guinea and the pre-
scription, and his head drooped again, and he
slouched away.
Dr. Wycherley remarked significantly that his
conduct was worth imitating by all persons simi-
larly situated: and concluded oracularly: "Pro-
phylaxis is preferable to therapeusis."
"Or, as Porson would say, 'Prevention is
better than cure.' "
With this parting blow the Oxonian suddenly
sauntered away, unconscious, it seemed, of the
existence of his companions.
"I never saw a plainer case of Incubation,"
remarked Dr. Wycherley, with vast benevolence
of manner.
"Maxley's?"
" Oh, no ; that is parochial. It is your pro-
foundly interesting son I alluded to. Did you
notice his supercilious departure ? And his mor-
bid celerity of repartee ?"
Mr. Hardie replied with some little hesitation,
"Yes ; and, excuse me, I thought he had rather
the best of the battle with you."
"Indubitably so," replied Dr. Wycherley:
'* they always do : at least such is my experience.
If ever I break a lance of wit with an incubator,
I calculate with confidence on being unhorsed
with abnormal rapidity : and rare, indeed, are
the instances in which my anticipations are not
promptly and fully realized : by a similar rule
of progression the incubator is seldom a match
for the confirmed maniac, either in the light play
of sarcasm, the coruscations of wit, or the se-
verer encounters of dialectical ratiocination."
"Dear, dear, dear I Then how is one to
know a genius from a madman ?" inquired Jane.
"By sending for a psychological physician."
"If I understand the doctor right, the two
things are not opposed," remarked Mr. Hardie.
Dr. Wycherley assented, and made a remark-
able statement in confirmation: "One half of
the aggregate of the genius of die country is at
present under restraint ; fortunately for the com-
munity ; and still more fortunately for itself."
He then put on his gloves, and, with much
kiftdness but solemnity, warned Mr. Hardie n.Qt
126
VEBY HABD CASH.
to neglect his son's case, nor to suppose that
matters could go on like this without '* disin-
tegrating or disorganizing the gray matter of
the brain. I admit," said he, '^ that in some re-
corded cases of insanity the brain on dissection
has revealed no signs of structural or functional
derangement, and that, on the other hand, con-
siderable encephalic disorganization has been
shown to have existed in other cases without
aberration or impairment of the reason : but
such phenomena are to be considered as patho-
logical curiosities, with which the empiric would
fain endeavor to disturb the sound general con-
clusions of science. The only safe mode of rea-
soning on matters so delicate and profound is h
priori: and, as it may safely be assumed as a
df- evident proposition that disturbed intelli-
gence bears the same relation to the brain dis-
ordered respiration does to the lungs, it is not
kgical, reasoning k priori, to assume the possi-
niity that the studious or other mental habits of
aKephalalgic, and gifted youth, can be reversed,
and erotic monomania germinate, with all the
morbid phenomena of isolation, dejection of the
spirits, and abnormal exaltation of the powers
of wit and ratiocination, without some consider-
able impairment, derangement, disturbance, or
modification, of the psychical, motorial, and sen-
sorial functions of the great cerebral ganglion.
But it would be equally absurd to presuppose
that these several functions can be disarranged
for months, without more or less disorganization
of the medullary, or even of the cineritious, mat-
ter of the encephalon. Therefore dissection of
your talented son would doubtless reveal at this
moment either steatomatous or atheromatous de-
posits in the cerebral blood-vessels, or an encyst-
ed abscess, probably of no very recent origin, or,
at the least, considerable inspissation, and opaci-
ty, of the membranes of the encephalon, or more
or less pulpy disorganization of one or other of
the hemispheres of the brain : good-mommg !"
** Good-morning, Sir : and a thousand thanks
for your friendly interest in my unhappy boy.'*
The Psycho-cerebrals "took their departure"
(Psycho-cerebral for " departed"), and left Jane
Hardie brimful of anxiety. Alfred was not
there to dispose of the tirade in two words, ** Pe-
titio principii," and so smoke on : and, not be-
ing a university woman, she could not keep her
eye on the original assumption while following
the series of inferences the learned doctor built
so neatly, story by story, on the foundation of
the quicksand o/*a Ioosq conjecture.*
"Now not a word of this to Alfred," said
Mr. Hardie. "I shall propose to him a little
foreign tour, to amuse his mind."
"Tes, but papa, if some serious change is
really going on inside his poor head."
* So novices Bitting at a conjuror see him take a vedding-
ring, and put it in a Uttle box before a lady; then cross
the theatre with another little box, and put that before
another lady: "Hey presto 1 passl" in box 2 is discov-
ered a wedding-ring, which is instantly cwsMw^d tobe the
ring: on this their green minds are fixed, and with this is
tham business done: Box 1, containing the real ring all
the time, is overlooked ; and the confederate, in livery or
sot, does what he likes with it : imprisons it in an orange
for the good of its health.
8o poor Aigan, when Flenrant enumerates the conse-
qnenoes of his omitting a single dose shidi I say ? is ter-
rified by the threatened disorders, which succeed to each
0lher lically enough, all the absurdity being in the first
Mak of the abaJn; and imn that his mind is diverted.i ^
Mr. Hardie smiled sarcastically. " Don't you
see that if the mind can wound the braiu, 'ibo
mind can cure it?" Then, after a while, he
said, parentally, " My child, I must give you a
lesson : men of the world use enthusiasts like
those two I have just been drawing out for
their tools ; we don't let them make tools of us.
Osmond, you know, is jackal to an asylum in
London ; Dr. Wycherley, I have heard, keeps
two or three such establishments by himself or
his agents : blinded by self-interest, and that of
their clique what an egotistical world it is to
bo sure ! they would confine a melancholy
youth in a gloomy house, among afilicted per-
sons, and give him nothing to do but brood;
and so turn the scale against his reason : but /
have my children's interest at heart more than
my own ; I shall send him abroad, and so amnse
his mind with fresh objects, break off sad asso-
ciations, and restore him to a brilliant career.
I count on you to second me in my little scheme
for his good."
"That I will, papa."
" Somehow, I don't know why, he is coolish
to me."
'*He does not imderstand you, as I do, my
own papa."
**But he is affectionate with you, I think."
" Oh yes, more than ever : trouble has drawn
us closer. Papa, in the midst of our son-ow,
how much we have to be thankful for to the
Giver of all good things I"
"Yes, little angel: and you must improve
Heaven's goodness by working on your brother's
affection, and persuading him to this continental
tour."
Thus appealed to, Jane promised warmly:
and the man of the world, finding he had a blind
and willing instrument in the one creature he
loved, kissed her on the forehead, and told her
to run away, for here was Mr. Skinner, who no
doubt wanted to speak on business.
Skinner, who had in fact been holding re-
spectfully aloof for some time, came forward on
Jane's retiring, and in a very obsequious tone
requested a private interview. Mr. Hardie led
the way into the little dining-room.
They were no sooner alone than Skinner left
off'fawning, very abruptly ; and put on a rugged
resolute manner that was new to him: "I am
come for my commission," said he, sturdily,
Mr. Hardie looked an inquiry.
** Oh, you don't know what I mean, of course,"
said the little clerk, almost brutolly : " Pw wait-
ed, and waited, to see if you would hare the de-
cency, and the gratitude, and the honesty, to
offer me a trifle out of It ; but I see I might
wait till doomsday before you would ever think
of thinking of any body but yourself. So now
shell out without more words or I'll blow the
gaff." The little wretch raised his voice louder
and louder at every sentence.
"Hush! hush! Skinner," said Mr. Hardie,
anxiously, '*you are under some delusion.
When did I ever decline to recognize your serv-
ices ? I always intended to make you a present,
a handsome present."
'^Then why didn't ye do it without being
forced? Come, Sir, you can't draw the wool
over Noah Skinner's eyes; I have had you
watched, and yon are looking toward the U. S.,
and that is too big a country for me to hunt yon
VEBY HARD CASH.
127
in. I*m not to be trifled with : Tm not to be
palavered: give me a thousand pounds of It
this moment, or I'll blow the whole concern and
you along with it."
"A thousand pounds? !"
"Now look at that!" shrieked Skinner.
"Serves me right for not saying seven thou-
sand. What right have you to a shilling of it
more than I have? If I had the luck to be a
burglar's pal instead of a Banker's, I should
have half. Give it me this moment, or I'll go to
Albion Villa and have yon took up for a thief;
08 you are."
"But I haven't got it on me."
"That's a lie: you carry it where he did;
close to your heart : I can see it bulge : there,
Job was a patient man, but his patience went at
last." With this he ran to the window and
threw it open.
Hardie entreated him to be calm. " I'll give
it you. Skinner," said he, "and with pleasure,
if you will give me some security that you will
not turn round, as soon as you have got it, and
be my enemy."
"Enemy of a gent that pays me a thousand
pounds ? nonsense ! Why should I ? We are
in the same boat : behave like a man, and you
know you have nothing to fear from me : but I
will not go halves in a theft for nothing:
would you? Come, how is it to be, peace or
war? Will you be content with thirteen thou-
sand pounds that don't belong to you, not a shil-
ling of it, or will you go to jail a felon, and lose
it every penny?'*
Mr. Hardie groaned aloud, but there was no
help for it. Skinner was on sale : and must be
bought.
He took out two notes for five hundred pounds
each, and laid them on the table, after taking
their numbers.
Skinner's eyes glistened : "Thank you. Sir,"
said he. He put them in his pocket. Then he
said quietly, "now you have taken the num-
bers. Sir, so I'll trouble you for a line to make
me safe against the criminal law. You are a
deep one ; you might say I robbed you."
"That is a very unworthy suspicion, Skin-
ner; and a childish one.'*
" Oh, it is diamond cut diamond. A single
line, Sir, just to say that in return for his faith-
ful services you have given Noah Skinner two
notes for 500 Nos. 1084 and 86."
" With all my heart on your giving me a re-
ceipt for them."
It was Skinner's turn to hesitate. After re-
flecting, however, on all the possible consequen-
ces, he saw nothing to fear ; so he consented.
The business completed, a magic change took
place in the little clerk. "Now we are friends
again. Sir : and I'll give you a piece of advice ;
mind your eye with Mr. Alfred ; he is down on
us.'*
"What do you mean ?'* inquired Mr. Hardie,
with ill-disguised anxiety.
* * I'll tell you. Sir. He met me this morning :
and says he to me, * Skinner, old boy, I want to
speak a word to you.' He put his hands on my
shoulder, and turns me round, and says he all at
one time *the fourteen thotisand pounds I* You
might have knocked me down with a feather.
And he looked me through like a gimlet, mind
ye. * Come now,* says he, * you see I know all ;
ood jimcddj
make a clean breast of it.* So then I saw he
didn't know all, and I brazened up a bit : told
him 1 hadn't a notion what he meant. *0h,
yes I did,* he said, * Captain Dodd's fourteen
thousand pounds! it had passed through my
hands.' Then I began to funk again at his
knowing that : perhaps he only guessed it after
all : but at the time I thought he knew it ; I was
flustered, ye see. But I said, * I'd look at the
books; but I didn't think his deposit was any
thing like that.' ' You little equivocating hum-
bug,* says he : * and which was better, to tell the
truth at once and let Captain Dodd, which nev-
er did me any harm, have his own, or to hear it
told me in the felon's dock?* those were his
words, Sir: and they made my blood jm^coldj
and if he had gone on at me like th
have split, I know I should : but
' there, your face has given your tongue the He:
you haven't brains enough to pla^the rogi^'
Oh, and another thing he said he woiildPt
talk to the sparrow-hawk any more, when there
was the kite hard by : so by that I guess your
turn is coming. Sir ; so mind your eye. And
then he turned his back on me with a look as
if I was so much dirt. But I didn't mind that ;
I was glad to be shut of him at any price."
This intelligence discomposed Mr. Hardie ter-
ribly: it did away with all hope that Alfred
meant to keep his suspicions to himself. "Why
did you not tell me this before ?" said he, re-
proachfully.
Skinner's sharp visage seemed to sharpen as
he replied, "Because I wanted a thousand
pounds first.'*
" Curse your low cunning !**
Skinner laughed. " Good-by, Sir : take care
of yourself, and I'll take care of mine. I'm
afraid of Mr. Alfred and the stone-jug, so I'm
off to London, and there I'll un-Skinner myself
into Mr. Something or other, and make my thoo^
sand pounds breed ten.'* And he whipped out,
leaving his master filled with rage and dismay.
" Outwitjted even by this little wretch !"
He was now accountable for fourteen thousand
pounds, and had only thirteen thousand left, if
forced to reimburse ; so that it was quite on the
cards for him to lose a thousand pounds by rob-
bing his neighbor and risking his own immortal
jewel : this galled him to the quick ; and alto-
gether his equable temper began to give way ; it
had already surrived half the iron of his nerves.
He walked up and down the parlor chafing like
an irritated lion. In which state of his mind
the one enemy he now feared and hated walked
quietly into the room, and begged for a little se-
rious conversation with him.
" It is like your effrontery, " said he : "I won-
der you are not ashamed to look your father in
the face."
"Having wronged nobody, I can look any
body in the face," replied Alfred, looking him in
the face point-blank.
At this swift rejoinder Mr. Hardie felt like a
too-confident swords-man, who, attacking in a
passion, suddenly receives a prick that shows
him his antagonist is not one to be trifled with.
He was on his guard directly, and said, coldly,
"You have been belying me to my very clerk."
"No, Sir: you are mistaken: I have never
mentioned your name to your clerk.**
# Mr. Hardie reflected on what Skinnec bftd^tfiS^
128
VERY HARD CASn.
him, and found he had made another false move.
He tried again : "Nor to the Dodds?" with an
increduloas sneer.
**Nor to the Dodds," replied Alfred, calmly.
"What, not to Miss Julia Dodd?"
" No, Sir ; I have seen her hut once, since ^I
discovered ahout the fourteen thousand pounds."
"What fourteen thousand pounds?" inquired
Mr. Hardie, innocently.
"What fourteen thousand pounds!'* repeated
the young man, disdainfully. Then suddenly
turning on his father, with red brow and flash-
ing eyes : " the fourteen thousand pounds Cap-
tain Dodd brought home from India : the four-
teen thousand pounds I heard him claim of you
^ with corses : ay, miserable son, and miserable
man, that I am, I hoard my own father called a
^lain; and what did my father reply? Did
you hurl the words back into your accuser's
thmat? No: you wliispered, 'Hush! hush! I'll
bnng it you down.' Oh, what a hell shame is I"
Mr. Hardie turned pale and almost sick : with
these words of Alfred's fled all hope of ever de-
ceiving him.
"There, there," said the young man, lowering
his voice from rage to profound sorrow : " I don't
come here to quarrel with my father, nor to in-
sult him, Grod knows : and I entreat you for both
our sakes not to tiy my temper too hard by these
childish attempts to blind me: and, Sir, pray
dismiss from your mind the notion that I have
disclosed to any living soul my knowledge of this
horrible secret : on the contrary, I have kept it
gnawing my heart, and almost maddening me
at times. For my own personal satisfaction I
have applied a test both to you and Skinner ; but
that is all I have done: 1 have not told dear
Julia, nor any of her family ; and now, if you
will only listen to me, and do what I entreat you
to do, she shall never know; oh, never."
" Oho !" thought Mr. Hardie, "he comes with
a proposal : I'll hear it any way."
He then took a line well known to artful
men ; he encouraged Alfred to show his hand ;
maintaining a complete reserve as to his own ;
"You say you did not conununicate your illu-
sion about this fourteen thousand pounds to Ju-
lia Dodd that night : may I ask then (without
indiscretion) what did pass between you two ?"
"I will tell you, Sir. She saw me standing
there, and asked me in her own soft angel voice
if I was unhappy. I told her I must be a poor
creature if I could bo happy. Then she asked
me, with some hesitation I thought, why I was
unhappy. I said because I could not sec the
path of honor and duty clear: that, at least,
was the purport. Then she told me that in all
difficulties she had found the best way was to
pray to God to guide her ; and she begged me
to lay my care before him, and ask his counsel.
And then I thanked her; and bade her good-
night, and she me ; and that was all passed be-
tween us two unhappy lovers, whom you have
made miserable ; and even cool to one another ;
but not hostile to you. And you played the
spy on us, Sir ; and misunderstood us, as spies
generally do. Ah, Sir ! a few months ago you
would not have condescended to that."
Mr. Hardie colored^ but did not reply. He
Aad passed from the irritable into the 'quietly
vindictive stage,
Alfred then deprecated farther discussion of ^ '
what was past, and said abruptly: "I have an
ofler to make you : in a very short time I shall
have ten thousand pounds ; I will not resign my
whole fortune ; that would be unjust to myself
and my wife ; and I loathe and despise Injustice
in all its forms however romantic or plausible.
But, if you will give the Dodds their 14,000, 1
will share my little fortune equally with you:
and thank you, and bless you. Consider, Sir,
with your abilities and experience, five thou-
sand pounds may yet be the nucleus of a for-
tune ; a fortune built on an honorable founda-
tion. I know you will thrive with my five
thousand pounds ten times more than with their
fourteen thousand ; and enjoy the blessing of
blessings, a clear conscience.
Now this offer was no sooner made than Mr.
Hardie shut his face, and went to mental arith-
metic, like one doing a sum behind a thick door.
He would have taken ten thousand: but five
thousand did not much tempt him: besides,
would it be five thousand clear? He already
owed Alfred two thousand five hundred. It
flashed through him that a young man who
loathed and despised Injustice even to him-
self would not consent to be diddled by him
out of one sum while making him a present of
another: and then there was Skinner's thou-
sand to be reimbursed. He therefore declined
in these terms :
"This offer shows me you are sincere in these
strange notions you have taken up. I am sorry
for it : it looks like insanity. These nocturn-
al illusions, these imaginary sights and sounds,
come of brooding on a single idea, and often
usher in a calamity one trembles to think of.
You have made me a proposal: I make you
one : take a couple of hundred pounds (I'll get
it from your trustees) and travel the Continent
for four months ; enlarge and amuse your mind
with the contemplation of nature and manners
and customs; and if that does not clear this
phantom 14,000 out of your head, I am much
mistaken."
Alfred replied that foreign travel was his
dream : but he could not leave Barkington while
there was an act of justice to be done.
" Then do me justice, boy," said Mr. Hardie,
with wonderful dignity, all things considered.
"Instead of brooding on your one fantastical
idea, and shutting out all rational evidence to
the contrary, take the trouble to look through
my books : and they will reveal to you a for-
tune, not of fourteen thousand, but of eighty
thousand pounds, honorably sacrificed in the
struggle to fulfill my engagements : who, do you
think, will believe, against such evidence, the
preposterous tale you have concocted agaiqst
your poor father ? Already the tide is turning,
and all, who have seen the accounts of the Bank,
pity me ; they will pity me still more if ever they
hear my own flesh and blood insults me in the
moment of my fall ; sees me ruined by my hon-
esty, and living in a hovel, yet comes into that
poor but honest abode, and stabs me to the heart
by accusing me of stealing fourteen thousand
pounds: a sum that would have saved me, if I
could only have laid my hands on it."
Ho hid his face, to conceal its.incongmous e
pression : and heaved a deep sigh.
A\tred turivGd Yv\s Vv^iad away and groaned.
After a viYiWa \wi loafc irQiia\iaa ^ax. asA'v^
VERY HARD CASH.
129
to the door ; but seemed relactant to go : he cast
a longing, lingering look on his father, and said,
beseechingly : Oh think ! yoa are not my flesh
and blood more than I am yoars ; is all the love
to be on my side? have I no influence even
when right is on my side?" Then he suddenly
turned and threw himself impetuously on his
knees; "Your father was the soul of honor:
your son loathed fraud and injustice from his
cradle; you stand between two generations of
Hardies, and belong to neither ; do but reflect
one moment how bright a thing honor is, how
short and uncertain a thing life, how sure a
thing retribution is, in this world or the next :
it is your guardian angel that kneels before you
now, and not your son; oh, for Christ's sake,
for my mother's sake, listen to my last appeal.
You don't know me : I can not compound with
injustice. Pity me, pity her 1 love, pity your-
self!"
"You young viper!" cried the father, stung
with remorse bat not touched with penitence.
" Gret away, you amorous young hypocrite ; get
out of my house, get out of my sight, or I'll spit
on you and curse you at my feet."
"Enough!" said Alfred, rising and turning
suddenly calm as a statue : " let us be gentle-
men, if you please, even though we must be en-
emies. Good-by, my father that was."
And he walked gently, out of the room, and,
as he passed the window, Mr. Hardie heard his
great heart sob.
He wiped his forehead with his handkerchief.
"A hard tussle," thought he, "and with my
own unnatural, ungrateful, flesh and blood : but
I have won it: he hasn't told the Dodds; he
never will : and, if he did, who would believe
him, or them ?"
At dinner there was no Alfred ; but after din-
ner a note to Jane informing her he had taken
lodgings in the town, and requesting her to send
his books and clothes in the evening. Jane
handed the note to her father : and sighed deeply.
Watching his face as he read it, she saw him
torn rather pale, and looked more furrowed than
ever.
"Papa!" said she, "What does it all mean?"
" I am thinking."
Then, after a long pause he ground his teeth
and said, "It means Wab."
CHAPTER XXIX.
Long before this open rupture Jane Hardie
had asked her father, sorrowfully, whether she
was to discontinue her intimacy with the Dodds ;
she thought of course he would say "Yes," and
it cost her a hard struggle between inclination
and filial duty to raise the question. But Mr.
Hardie was anxious her friendship with that
family should continue ; it furnished a channel
of news, and in case of detection might be useful
to avert or soften hostilities; so he answered
rather sharply, " On no account : the Dodds are
an estimable family ; pray be as friendly with
them as ever you can." Jane colored with
pleasure at this most unexpected reply : but her
wakeful conscience reminded her this answer
was given in ignorance of her attachment to
^ward Dodd; and urged her to confes&ioTi.
But at that Nature recoiled : Edward had not
openly declared his love to her ; so modest pride,
as well as modest shame, combined with female
cowardice to hold back the avowal.
So then Miss Tender Conscience tormented
herself; and recorded the struggle in her diary;
but briefly, and in terms vague and typical ; not
a word about "a young man" or "crossed in
love" but one obscure and hasty slap at the
carnal affections, and a good deal about "tlio
saints in prison," and "the battle of Annaged-
don."
Yet, to do her justice, laxity of expression did
not act upon her conduct and warp that, as it
does most mystical speakers'.
To obey her father to the letter, she maintain-
ed a friendly correspondence with Julia Dodd,
exchanging letters daily: but, not to disobey
him in the spirit, she ceased to visit Albion Villa..
Thus -she avoided Edward, and extracted from
the situation the utmost self-denial, and the least
possible amount of "carnal pleasure," as she
naively denominated an interchange of worldly
affection, however distant and respectful.
One day she happened to mention her diary,
and say it was a present comfort to her, and in-
structive to review. Julia, catching at every
straw of consolation, said she would keep one
too, and asked a sight of Jane's for a model.
" No, dear friend," said Jane : "a difary should
be one's self on paper."
This was fortunate : it precluded that servile
imitation, in which her sex excels even mine ;
and consequently the two records reflect two
good girls, instead of one in two skins ; and may
be trusted to conduct this narrative forward, and
relieve its monotony a little : only of course the
reader must not expect to see the plot of a story
carried minutely out in two crude compositions
written with an object so distinct : he must watch
for glimpses and make the most of indications.
Nor is this an excessive demand upon his intel-
ligence ; for, if he can not do this with a book,
how will he do it in real life, where male and
female characters reveal their true selves by
glimpses only, and the gravest and most dra-
matic events give the diviner so few and faint
signs of their coming ?
Extracts from Jtdia DodcTs Diary:
"Dec. 5th. It is all over; they have taken
papa away to an asylum : and the house is like a
grave, but for our outbursts of sorrow. Just
before he went away the medal came oh no, I
can not. Poor, poor mamma !
8 P.M. In the midst of our affliction Heaven
sent us a ray of comfort : the kindest letter from
a lady, a perfect stranger. It came yesterday ;
but now I have got it to copy : oh, bless it ; and
the good, kind writer.
Deab Madam, I scarcely know whether to
hope or to fear that your good husband may have
mentioned my name to you ; however, he is just
the man to pass over both my misbehavior and
his own gallantry ; so I beg"permission to intro-
duce myself. I and my little boy were passen-
gers by the Agra ; I was spoiled by a long resi-
dence in India, and gave your husband sore
trouble by resisting discipline, refusing to put
out my light at tvvcl^ o^Otfi^ ^\A\\jl ^'s^^
beincaa\mTea&OTv^\^N?Qrnvci,wT^^t ^'s^^-^^^
ISO
VERY HARD CASH.
failed ; Captain Dodd did his duty, and kept his
temper provokingly. The only reyenge ho took
was a noble one;* he jumped into the sea after
my darling Freddy, and saved him from a watery
grave, and his mother from madness or death ;
yet he was himself hardly recovered from a
wound he had received in defending us all against
pirates. Need I say more to one who is herself
a mother? You will know how our little mis-
understanding ended after that. As soon as we
were friends, I made him talk of his family;
yourself, Edward, Julia, I seem to know you all.
When the ruffian, who succeeded our good
captain, had wrecked poor us, and then deserted
ns, your husband resumed the command, and
sayed Freddy and me once more by his courage,
his wonderful coolness, and his skill. Since tlien
the mouse has been at work for the lion: I
despair of conveying any pleasure by it to a
character so elevated as Captain Dodd ; his re-
ward must be his own conscience ; but we poor
little women like external shows, do we not?
and so I thought a medal of the Humane Society
might give some pleasure to you and Miss Dodd.
Never did medal nor order repose on a nobler
heart. The case was so strong, and so well sup-
ported, that the society did not hesitate : and you
will receive it very soon after this.
You will be surprised, dear Madam, at all
this from a stranger to yourself,, and will perhaps
set it down to a wish to intrude on your acquaint-
ance. Well then, dear Madam, you will not bo
far wrong. I should like much to know one,
whose character I already seem acquainted with ;
and to convey personally my gratitude and ad-
miration of your husband, I could pour it out
more freely to you, you know, than to him.
I am, dear Madam,
Yours very faithfully,
Louisa Bebesford.
And the medal came about an hour before the
fly to take him away. His dear name was on it,
and his brave courageous acts.
Oh, shall I ever be old enough and hard
enough to speak of this without stopping to cry ?
We fastened it round his dear neck with a
ribbon. Mamma would put it inside his clothes
for fear the silver should tempt some wretch : I
should never have thought of that : is there a
creature so base ? And we told the men how he
had gained it (they were servants of the asylum),
and we showed them how brave and good lie
was, and would be again if they would be kind
to him and cure him. And mamma bribed them
with money to use him kindly : I thought they
would be offended and refuse it : but tliey took
it, and their faces showed she was wiser than I
am. He keeps away from us too. It is nearly
a fortnight now.'*
"Dec. 7th. Aunt Eve left to-day. Mamma
kept her room and could not speak to her : can
not forgive her interfering between papa and her.
It does seem strange that any one but mamma
should be able to send papa out of the house,
and to such a place ; but it is the law : and Ed-
ward, who is all good sense, says it was neces- !
sary ; he says mamma is unjust : grief makes ;
her unreasonable. I don't know who is in the \
right : and I don't much care : but I know I am |
sorry for Aunt Eve, and very, very sorry for
mamma. " *
"Dec. 8th. I am en egotist: found myself
out this morning ; and it is a good thing to keep
a diary. It* was overpowered at first by grief
for mamma: but now the house is sad and
quiet I am always thinking of him ; and that is
egotism.
V^hy does he stay away so ? I almost wish I
could think it was coldness or diminished affec-
tion ; for I fear something worse ; something to
make him wretched. Those dreadful words papa
spoke before he was afflicted ! words I will never
put on paper; but they ring in my ears still;
they appall me; and then found at their veiy
door ! Ah, and I knew I should find him near
that house. And now he keeps away."
"Dec. 9th. All day tr}'ing to comfort mam-
ma. She made a great effort and wrote to Mrs.
Beresford."
POOR mamma's letter.
" Dear Madam, ^Your kind and valued let-
ler reached us in deep affliction : and I am little
able to reply to you as you deserve. My poor
husband is very ill ; so ill that he no longer re-
members the past, neither the brave acts that
have won him your esteem, nor even the face
of his loving and unhappy wife, who now thanks
you with many tears for your sweet letter.
Heart-broken as my children and I are, we yet
derive some consolation from it. We have tied
the medal round his neck, Madam, and thank
you far more than wc can find words to ex-
press.
"In conclusion, I pray Heaven that, in your
bitterest hour, you may lind the consolation you
have administered to us : no, no, I pray you may
never, never stand in such need of comfort.
I am, dear Madam,
Yours gratefully and sincerely,
Lucy Dodd."
"Dec. 10th, Sunday. At St. Anne's in the
morning. Tried hard to apply the sermon. He
spoke of griefs, but so coldly ; surely he never
felt one : he was not there. Mem. : always
pray against wandering thoughts on entering
church."
"Dec. 11th. A diary is a dreadful thing.
Every thing must go down now, and, among
the rest, that the poor are selfish. I could not
interest one of mine in mamma's sorrows ; no,
they must run back to their own little sordid
troubles, about money and things. I was so
provoked with Mrs. Jackson (she owes mamma
so much) that I left her hastily : and that was
Impatience. I had a mind to go back to her;
but would not ; and that was Pride. Where is
my Christianity ?
A kind letter from Jane Hardie. But no
word of him.''*
"Dec. 12th. To-day Edward told me plump
I must not go on taking things out of the house
for the poor : mamma gave me the reason. * We
are poor ourselves, thanks to * And then she
stopped. ' Does she suspect ? How can she?
She did not hear those two dreadful words of
papa's ? They are like two arrows in my heart.
And so we are poor : she says wo have sciupcely
any thing to live upon after paying the two hun-
dred and fifty pounds a year for papa."
Egotism. The abstract quality evolved from the con-
crete term egotist by feminine art, without the aid ftan.
grammar.
VERY HAllD CASH.
181
"Dec. 13th. A comforting letter from Jane.
Slie sends me Hebrews xii. 11, and says, * Let us
take a part of the Bible, and read two chapters
prayerfully, at the siime hour of the day : will
ten o'clock in the morning suit you ? and, if so,
will you choose where to begin?' I will, sweet
friend, I will: and then, though some cruel
mystery keeps us apart, our souls will be tooth-
er over the sacred page, as I hope they will
one day be together in heaven; yours will at
any rate. Wrote back, yes, and a thousand
thanks, and should like to begin with the Psalms :
they are sorrowful, and so are we. And I must
pray not to think too much of him.
If every thing is to be put down one does, I
cried long and bitterly to find I had written that
I must pray to God against Aiw."
"Dec. llth. It is plain he never means to
come again. Mamma says nothing, but that is
out of pity for me ; I have not read her dear face
all these years for nothing. She is beginning to
think him unworthy, when she thinks of him at
alL There is a myptery ; a dreadful mystery :
may he not be as mysti^cd too, and perhaps
tortured like me with doubts and suspicions?
they say he is pale and dejected. Poor thing I
But then oh why not come to me and say so ?
Shall I write to him ? No, I will cut my hand
off sooner."
" Dec. 16th. A blessed letter from Jane. She
says * Letter-writing on ordinary subjects is a sad
waste of time, and very unpardonable among His
people.' And so it is; and my weak hope, daily
disappointed, that there 'may be something in
her letter, only shows how inferior 1 am to my
beloved friend. She says, * I should like to fix
another hour for us two to meet at the Throne
together : will five o'clock suit you ? we dine at
six : but I am never more than half an hour
dressing.'
The friendship of this saint, and her bright
example, is what Heaven sends me in infinite
mercy and goodness to soothe my aching heart
a little : for Mm I shall never see again.
I have seen him this very evening.
It was a beautiful night : I went to look at
the world to come I call it for I believe the
redeemed are to inhabit those very stars hereafter,
and visit them all in turn and this world I now
find is a world of sorrow and disappointment
80 1 went on the balcony to look at a better one :
and oh it seemed so holy, so calm, so pure, that
heavenly world : I gazed and stretched my hands
toward it for ever so little of its holiness and
purity ; and, that moment, I heard a sigh. I
looked, and there stood a gentleman just outside
our gate, and it was him. I nearly screamed,
and my heart beat so. He did not see me : for
I had come out softly, and his poor head was
down, down upon his breast; and he used to
carry it so high, a little, little while ago ; too
high some said ; but not I. I looked, and my
misgivings melted away ; it flashed on me as if
one of those stars had written it with its own
light in my heart * There stands Grief; not
Guilt.' And before I knew what I was about I
had whispered * Alfred !' The poor boy started,
and ran toward me: but stopped short and
sighed again. 1^ heart yearned: but it was
not for me to make advances to him, after his
nnkindness : so I spoke to him as coldly as ever
I could, and I said, * You are unhappy.'
He looked np to me, and then I saw even by
that light that he is enduring a bitter, bitter
struggle: so pale, so worn, so dragged! Now
how many times have I cried, this last month?
more than in all the rest of my life a great deal
* Unhappy !' he said ; * I must be a contemptible
thing if I was not unhappy.' And then he asked
me should not I despise him if he was happy.
I did not answer that : but I asked iiim why he
was unhappy. And when I had, I was half
frightened : for he never evades a question the
least bit.
He held his head higher still, and said, ' I am
unhappy because I can not see the path of
honor I
Then I babbled something, I forget what:
then he went on like this ah, I never forget
what he says he said Cicero says -ffiquitas ipsa
lucet per se; something significat* something
else : and he repeated it slowly for me, he knows
I know a little Latin ; and told me that was as
much as to say * Justice is so clear a thing, that
whoever hesitates must be on the road of wrong.
And yet,' he said, bitterly, */ hesitate and doubt,
in a matter of right and wrong, like an Academic
philosopher weighing and balancing mere spec-
ulative straws.' Those were his very words.
* And so,' said he, * I am miserable ; deserving
to bo miserable.'
Then I ventured to remind him that he, and I,
and all Christian souls, had a resource not known
to heathen philosophers, however able. And I
said, *dear Alfred, when I am in doubt and
difficulty, I go and pray to Him to guide me
aright : have you done so ?' No, that had never
occurred to him ; but he would, if I made a point
of it ; and at any rate he could not go on in
this way ; I should soon see him again, and, once
his mind was made up, no shrinking from mere
consequences, he promised me. Then we bade
one another good-night, and he went off holding
his head as proudly as he used : and poor silly
me fluttered, and nearly hysterical, as soon as I
quite lost sight of him."
"Dec. 17th. At church in the morning: a
good sermon. Notes and analysis. In the even-
ing Jane's clergyman preached. She came.
Going out I asked her a question about what
we had heard ; but she did not answer me. At
parting she told me she made a rule not to
speak coming from church, not even about the
sermon. This seemed austere to poor me. But
of course she is right. Oh, that I was like her."
"Dec. 18th. Edward is coming out. This
boy, that one has taught all the French, all the
dancing, and nearly all the Latin ho knows,
turns out to be one's superior, infinitely ; I mean
in practical good sense. Mamma had taken her
pearls to the jeweler and borrowed two hundred
pounds. He found this out and objected. She
told him a part of it was required to keep him at
Oxford. * Oh indeed,' said he : and we thought
of course there was an end : but next morning
he was off before breakfast, and the day after he
returned from Oxford with his caution money,
forty pounds, and gave it mamma ; she had for-
gotten all about it. An4 he had taken his name
off the college books and left the university for-
ever. The poor, gentle, tears of mortification
ran down his mother's cheeks, and I hung round
* DuUtatio cogitationem significat injuriee.
132
VERY HARD CASH.
Ler neck, and scolded him like a vixen; as I
am. We might have spared tears and fury
both, for he is neither to be melted nor irritated
bj poor little us. He kissed us and coaxed us
like a superior being, and set to work in his
quiet, sober, ponderous way, and proved us a
couple of fools to our entire satisfaction, and
that without an unkind word : for he is as gen-
tle as a lamb, and as strong as ten thousand
elephants. He took the money back and brought
the pearls home again, and he has written * Sotez
DE voTRE Siecle' in great large letters, and
has pasted it on all our three bedroom doors, in-
side. And he has been all these years quietly
cutting up the Morning Advertiser^ and arrang-
ing the slips with wonderful skill and method.
He calls it * digesting the ^TiserP and you can't
ask for any modern information, great or small,
but he'll find you something about it in this di-
gest. Such a folio! It takes a man to open
and shut it. And he means to be a sort of little
papa in this house, and mamma means to let
him. And indeed it is so sweet to be command-
ed ; besides it saves thinking for one's self; and
that is such a worry.**
"Dec. 19th. Yes, they have settled it; we are
to leave here, and live in lodgings to save serv-
ants. How we are to exist even so, mamma
can not see ; but Edward can ; he says we two
have got popular talents, and lie knows the
markets (what does that mean, I wonder), and
the world in general. I asked him wherever he
picked it up, his knowledge; he said, *In the
^Tiscr/ I asked him would he leave the place
where she lives. He looked sad, but said, * Yes ;
for the good of us all,' so he is better than I am ;
but who is not ? I wasted an imploring look on
him ; but not on mamma ; she looked back to
me, and then said sadly, * Wait a few days, Ed-
ward, for mi/ sake.' That meant for poor cred-
ulous Julia's, who still believes in him. My
sweet mother!'*
"Dec. 21st. Told mamma to-day I would go
for a governess, to help her, since we are all
ruined. She kissed me and trembled ; but she
did not say * No ;' so it will come to that. He
will be sorry. When I do go, I think I shall
find courage to send him a line : just to say I
am' sure he is not to blame for withdrawing.
Indeed how could I ever marry a man whose fa-
ther I have heard my father call " (the pen
was drawn through the rest).
** Dec. 22d. A miserable day: low-spirited and
hysterical. We are really going away. Edward
has begun to make packing-cases : I stood over
him and sighed, and asked him questions : he
said he was going to take unfurnished rooms in
London, send up what furniture is absolutely
necessary, and sell the rest by auction, with the
lease of our dear, dear house, where we were all
so happy once. So, what with * his knowledge
of the markets and the world,' and his sense,
and his strong will, we have only to submit.
And then he is so kind, too ; * don't ciy, little
girl,' he said. *Not but what I could turn on
the waters myself if there was any thing to be
gained by it. Shalil ciy, Ju,' said he, * or shall
I whistle ? I think I'll whistle.' And he whis-
tled a tune right through, while he worked with
a heart as sick as my own, perhaps. Poor Ed-
ward !"
'^Dec, 23d, My Christian friend has her griefs
too. But then she puts them to profit : she says
to-day, * We are both tasting the same flesh-cini-
cifying but soul-profiting experience.' Her ev-
ery word is a rebuke to me : torn at this solemn
season of the year with earthly passions. Went
down after reading her letter and played and sang
the Gloria in cxcelsis, of Pergolesi, with all my
soul.' And, on repeating it, buret out crying in
the middle. Oh, shame ! shame !"
"Dec. 24th. Edward started for London at
five in the morning to take a place for us. The
servants were next told, and received warning;
the one we had the poorest opinion of, she is
such a fiirt, cried, and begged mamma to let her
share our fallen fortunes, and said she could
cook a little and would do her best. I kissed
her violently, and quite forgot I was a young
lady till she herself reminded me ; and she look-
ed frightened at manmia. But mamma only
smiled through her tears, and said, * Think of
it quietly, Sarah, before you commit yourself.' '*
I am now sitting in my own room, cold as a
stone : for I have packed up some things : so the
first step is actually taken. Oh if I but knew
that he was happy! Then I could endure any
thing. But how can I think so ? Well, I will
go, and never tell a soul what I suspect. And
he can not tell, even if he knows : for it is his
father. Jane, too, avoids all mention of her
own father and brother more than is natural
Oh, if I could only be a child again !
Regrets are vain ; I will cease even to record
them ; these diaries feed one's selfishness, and
the unfortunate passion, that will make me a
bad daughter and an ungrateful soldier of Him
who was born as to-morrow: to your knees,
false Christian ! to your knees !
I am calmer now ; and feel resigned to the
will of Heaven ; or benumbed ; or something.
I will pack this box, and then go down and com*
fort my mother ; and visit my poor people, per-
haps for the last time : ah me !
A knock at the street door ! His knock ! I
know every echo of his hand, and his foot.
Where is my composure now ? I flutter like a
bird. I will not go down. He will think I love
him so.
At least I will wait till he has nearly gone.
Elizabeth has come to say I am wanted iii the
drawing-room.
So I must go down, whether I like or no.
Bedtime. Oh, that I had the pen of a writer
to record the scene I have witnessed, worthily.
When I came in, I found mamma and him both
seated in dead silence. He rose and looked at
me and I at him: and years seemed to have
rolled over his face since last I saw it ; I was
obliged to turn my head away ; I courtesied to
him distantly, and may Heaven forgive me for
that: and we sat down, and presently turned
round and all looked at one another like the
ghosts of the happy creatures we once were all
together. ^^
Then Alfred began, not in Ms old imperative
voice, but scarce above a whisper; and oh the
words such as none but himself in the wide world
would have spoken ^I love him better than ever;
VERY HARD CASH.
138
I pity him ; I adore him ; he is a scholar ; he is
a cheyalier ; he is the soul of honor ; he is the
most unfortunate and proudest gentleman be-
neath the sun ; oh, my darling ! my darling I !
He said: *Mrs. Dodd, and you, Miss Dodd,
whom I loved before I lost the right to ask you
to be mine, and whom I shall love to the last
hour of my miserable existence, I am come to
explain my own conduct to you, and to do you
an act of simple justice, too long delayed. To
begin with myself, you must know that my un-
derstanding is of the Academic School ; I incline
to weigh proofs before I make up my mind. But
then I differ from that school in this, that I can
not think myself to an eternal stand-still (such
an expression ! but what does that matter, it was
his) ; I am a man of action : in Hamlet's place
I should have either turned my ghost into ridi-
cule, or my uncle into a ghost ; so I kept away
from you while in doubt : but, now I doubt no
longer, I take my line ; ladies, you have been
swindled out of a large sum of money.'
My blood ran cold at these words. Surely
nothing on earth but a man could say this right
out like that.
Mamma and I looked at one another; and
wliat did I see in her face, for the first time?
Why that she had her suspicions too, and had
been keeping them from me. Pitying angel I
He went on: 'Captain Dodd brought home
several thousand pounds ?'
Mamma said 'Yes.' And I think she was
going to say how much, but he stopped her and
made her write the amount in an envelope, while
he took another and wrote in it with his pencil ;
he took both envelopes to me, and asked me to
read them out in turn : I did ; and mamma's said
fourteen thousand pounds : and his said fourteen
thousand pounds. Mnmma looked such a look
at me.
Then he turned to me: '^liss Dodd, do you
remember that night you and I met at Richard
Bardie's door ? Well, scarce five minutes before
that, your father was standing on eur lawn and
called to the man, who was my father, in a loud
voice it rings in my ears now * Hardie ! Vil-
lain ! give me back my money, my fourteen
thousand pounds ! give me my children's money,
or may your children die before your eyes.' Ah,
you wince to hear mo whisper these dreadful
words : what, if you had been where I was, and
heard them spoken, and in a terrible voice ; the
voice of Despair ; the voice of Truth ! Soon a
window opened cautiously, and a voice whisper-
ed, 'Hush! I'll bring it you down.' And this
voice was the voice of fear, of 'dishonesty, and
of Richard Hardie.'
He turned deadly white when he said this, and
I cried to mamma, 'Oh, stop him! stop him!'
And she said, * Alfred, think what you are say-
ing. Why do you tell us what we had better
never know?' He answered directly,
* Because it is the truth : and because I loathe
injustice. Some time afterward I taxed Mr.
Richard Hardie with this fourteen thousand
pounds : and his face betrayed him. I taxed
his clerk, Skinner : and Skinner's face betrayed
him : and he fled the town that very night.'
My mother Hoked much distressed, and said,
'To what end tlo you raise this pitiable subject?
Tour father is a bankrupt, and wo but suffer with
the rest.'
*No, no,' said he, *I have looked through
the bankrupt's books, and there is no mention
of the sum. And then who brought Captain
Dodd here ? Skinner : and Skinner is his de-
tected confederate. It is clear to me poor Cap-
tain Dodd trusted that sum to t, before he had
the fit : beyond this all is conjecture.'
Mamma looked at mo again, and said, ' What
am I to do ; or say ?'
I screamed, 'Do nothing, say nothing: oh
pray, pray make him hold his tongue, and let the
vile money go. It is not his fault.'
* Do ?' said the obstinate creature : * why, tell
Edward, and let him employ a sharp attorney :
you have a supple antagonist, and a daring one.
Need I say I have tried persuasion, and even
bribes : but he defies me. Set an a(tWMf[ on
him ; or the police. Fiat Justitia, riw^^KKUni.'
I put both hands out to him and burst bttt.^^ Oh,
Alfred, why did you tell ? A son expwe hi8 own
father ? . for shame ! for shame ! I Yiave sus-
pected it all long ago : but / would never have
told.'
Ho started a little; but said, 'Miss Dodd,
you were very generous to me ; ;^t that is not
exactly a reason why I should ba a cur to you ;
and an accomplice in a theft, by which you suffer.
I have no pretensions to religion like my sister :
so I can't afford to tamper with plain right and
wrong. What, look calmly on and see one man
defraud another ? I can't do it. See you de-
frauded ? you, Mrs. Dodd, for whom I profess
affection and friendship ? You, Miss Dodd, for
whom I profess love and constancy? Stand and
see you swindled into poverty? No: I'll be
damm'd if I do. Of what do you think I am
made? My stomach rises against it, my blood
boils against it, my flesh creeps at it, my soul
loathes it :' then after this great burst he seemed
to turn so feeble: *oh,' said he, faltering, *I
know what I have done ; I have signed the death-
warrant of our love, dear to me as life. But I
can't help it. Oh Julia, Julia, my lost love,
you can never look on me again ; you must not
love a man you can not marry, Cheat Hardie's
wretched son. But what could I do? Fate
offers me but the miserable choice of desolation
or cowardly rascality. I choose desolation. And
I mean to stand by my choice like a man. So
good-by, ladies.'
The poor proud creature rose from his seat,
and bowed stifily and haughtily to us both, and
was going away without another word, and, I do
believe, forever. But his soul had been too
great for his body ; his poor lips turned pale,
and he staggered ; and would have fallen, but
mamma screamed to me, and she he loves so
dearly, and abandons so cruelly, woke from a
stupor of despair, and flew and caught him faint-
ing in these arms."
CHAPTER XXX.
"We laid the poor proud creature on the sofa,
and bathed his face with eau de Cologne. Ho
spoke directly, and said that was nice, and ' My
head ! my head !' And I don't think he was ever
quite insensible, but he did not know what was
going on, for presently he opened his eyes wide,'
and stared at us so, and then closed them with
134
VERY HARD CASH.
oh such a sigh ; it swelled my heart almost to
bursting. And to think I could say nothing:
but mamma soothed him and insisted on his
keeping quiet ; for he wanted to run away from
us. She was never so good to him before : she
said, * My dear child, you have my pity and my
esteem ; alas ! that at your age you should be
tried like this. How few in this sorry world
would have acted like you : I should have sided
with my own flesh and blood, for one.'
* What, right or wrong ?' he asked.
*Yes,' said she, * right or wrong.' Then she
turned lo me : * Julia, shall all the generosity be
on his side ?'
1 kissed her and clung to her, but dared not
speak ; but I was mad enough to hope, I scarcely
know what, till she said in the same kind sorrow-
ful voice, * I agree with you ; you can never be
my son ; nor Julia's husband. But as for that
money, it revolts me to proceed to extremes
against one who after all is your father, my poor,
poor chivalrous boy.' But she would decide no-
thing without Edward ; he had taken his father's
place in this house. So then I gave all up, for
Edward is made of iron. Alfred was clearer-
sighted than I, and never had a hope : he i)ut
his arm round mamma and kissed her, and she
kissed him : and he kissed my hand, and crc])t
away, and I heard his step on the stair, and on
the road ever so far, and life seemed ended for
me when I heard it no more.
Edward has come homo. Mamma told him
all : he listened gravely : I hung upon his lips ;
and at last the oracle spoko : and said, ' This is
a nice muddle.'
More we could not get from him; he must
sleep on it. Oh, suspense ! you torture ! He had
seen a place ho thinks will suit us: it is a bad
omen his saying that so soon after. As I went
to bed I could not help whispering, * If he and
I are parted, so will you and Jane.' The cruel
boy answered me out loud, * Thank you, little
girl: that is a temptation; and you have put
me on my guard.'
Oh, how hard it is to understand a man ! they
are so impracticable with their justice and things.
I came away with my cheeks burning, and my
heart like a stone ; to bed, but not to sleep. My
poor, poor, unhappy, noble Alfred !"
**Dec. 27th. Mamma and Edward have dis-
cussed it : they say nothing to me. Can they
have written to him ? I go about my duties like
a ghost ; and pray for submission to the Divine
will."
** Dec. 28th. To-day as I was reading by main
force to Mrs. Eagleton's sick girl, came Sarah
all in a hurry with, I was wanted, Miss. But I
would finish my chapter, and oh how hard the
Devil tried to make me gabble it ; so I clenched
my teeth at him, and read it as if I was spelling
it ; and then S.drCt I fly ?
He was there ; and they all sat waiting for me.
I was hot and cold all at the same time, and he
rose and bowed to me, and I courtesied to him,
and sat down and took my work, and didn't
know one bit what I was doing.
And our new oracle, Edward, laid down the
law like any thing. 'Look here, Hardie,' said
^ he, * if any body but you had told us about this
* fourteen thousand pounds, I should have set the
poYico on j^our governor before now. But it
I seems to me a shabby thing to attack a father
' on the son's information, especially when it's out
of love for one of us he has denounced his own
flesh and blood.'
*No, no,' said Alfred, eagerly, *ont of love
of justice.'
*Ah, you think so, my fine fellow, but you
would not have done it for a stranger,' said Ed-
ward. Then he went on : * Of all blunders, the
worst is to fall between two stools : look here,
mamma ; we decide, for the son's sake, not to
attack the father: after that it would be very
inconsistent to turn the cold shoulder to the son.
Another thing, who sufl^ers most by this fraud?
why the man that marries Julia.' 'Alfred burst
out impetuously, * Oh, prove that to me, and let
me be that sufferer.' Edward turned calmly to
mamma : * If the fourteen thousand pounds was
in our hands, what should you do with it ?'
The dear thing said she should settle at least
ten thousand of it on Me, and marry Me to this
poor motherless boy, * whom I have learned to
love myself,' said she.
* There,' said Edward, *you see it is you who
lose by your governor's I won't say what if
you marry my sister.*
Alfred took his hand, and said, 'God bless
you for telling me this.'
Then Edward turned to mamma and me ; and
said, *This poor fellow has left his father's house
because he wronged us : then this house ought
to open its arms to hun: that is oi)ly justice;
but now to be just to our side ; I have been to
Mr. Crawford, the lawyer, and I find this Hardie
junior has ten thousand pounds of his own.
That ought to l)e settled on Julia, to make up for
what she loses by Hardie senior's I won't say
what.'
*If any body settles any of their trash on rue,
I'll beat them, and throw it in the fire,' said I ;
*andl hated money.*
The oracle asked me directly did I hate clothes
and food, and charity to the poor, and cleanli-
ness, and decency? Then I didn't hate ifton-
ey, 'for none of those ihings can exist without
money, you little romantic humbug: you shut
up!"
Mamma rebuked him for his expressions, bat
approved his sentiments. But I did not care
for his sentiments : for he smiled on me, and
said, * We two are of one mind ; we shall trans-
fer our fortune to Captain Dodd, whom my
father has robbed. Julia will consent to share
my honest poverty.'
' Well, we will talk about that,' said Edward,
pompously. *
'Talk about it without me, then,' I cried,
and got up and marched out, indignant : only it
was partly my low cunning to hide my face that
I could not keep the rapture out of. And, as
soon as I had retired with cold dignity, off I
skipped into the garden to let my face loose, and
I think they sent him after me ; for I heard hjs
quick step behind me ; so I ran away from him
as hard as I could, and of course he soon caugbt
me ; in the shrubbery where he first asked me to
be his ; and he kissed both my hands again and
again like wild-fire, as he is, and he said, 'you
are right, dearest ; let them talk of their trash
while I tell you how I adore you ; poverty with
you will be the soul's wealth ; even misftntane,
by your side, would hardly be misfortane : let
VERY HARD CASH.
135
all the world go, and let joa and I be one, and
lire together, and die together ; for now I see
I could not have lived without you, nor without
your love.* And I whispered something on his
shoulder, no matter what; what signifies the
cackle of a goose ? and we mingled our happy
tears, and our hearts, and our souls. Ah, Love
is a sweet, a dreadful passion : what we two
have gone through for one another in a few
months ! He dined with us, and Edward and
he sat a long, long, time talking ; I dare say it
was only about their odious money ; still I envied
Edward having him so long. But at last he
came up, and devoured me with his lovely gray
eyes, and I sang him Ailcen Aroon, and he
whispered things in my ear, oh, such sweet,
sweet, idiotic, darling, things; I will not part
with even the shadow of one of them by putting
it on paper, only J'm the blessedest creature in
all the world ; and I only hope to goodness it is
not very wicked to be so happy as I am."
"Dec. 31st. It is all settled. Alfred returns
to Oxford to make up for lost time ; the time
tpent in construing Mo instead of Greek: and
at the end of term he is to come of age and
marry somebody. Marriage ! oh what a word
to put down ! It makes me tingle ; it thrills
me; it frightens me, deliciously: no, not deli-
ciously ; any thing but : for suppose, being both
of us "fiery, and they all say one of them ought
to bo cold-blooded for a pair to bo bappy, I
should make him a downright bad wife. Why
then I hope I shall die in a year or two out of
my darling's way, and lot him have a good one
instead.
I'd come back from the gravo and tear her to
pieces."
"Jan. 4th. Found a saint in a garret over a
stable. Took her my luncheon clandestinely;
that is ladylike for * under my apron :* and was
detected and expostulated by Ned. He took me
into his studio it is carpeted with shavings
and showed me the *Tiser digest, an enormous
book he has made of newspaper cuttings all in
applc-pic order ; I mean alphabetical ; and out
of this authority he proved vice and poverty
abound most wherever there are most charities.
Oh, and * the poor' a set of intoxicated sneaks,
and Me a Demoralizing Influence. It is all
cry fine : but why are there saints in garrets,
and half starved ? that rouses all my evil pas-
sions, and I qan not bear it ; it is no use."
** Jan. 6th. Once a gay day ; but now a sad
one. Mamma gone to see poor papa, where he
is. Alfred found me sorrowful, and rested my
forehead on his shoulder ; that soothed me while
it lasted. I think I should like to grow there.
Mem. I to bum this diary ; aad never let a creat-
ure see a syllable.
As soon as he was gone, prayed earnestly on
my knees not to make an idol of him. For it is
oar poor idols that arc destroyed for our weak-
ness. Which really I can not quite see the
justice of."
"Jan. 8th. Jane does not approve my pro-
posal that we should praise now and then at the
same hour instead of always praying. The dear
girl sends me her unconverted diary ' to show
xne she is " a brand." ' I have read most of it.
But really it seems to me she was always good-
ish : only she went to parties, and read novels,
and enjo^tid society.
There, I have finished it : and, oh dear, how
like her wnconverted diaiT is to my converted
.one!"
"Jan. 14th. A sorrowful day: he and I
! parted, after a fortnight of the tcnderest afllec-
\ tion, and that mutual respect, without which
neither of usy I think, could love long. I had
' resolved to be very brave ; but we were alone,
' and his bright face looked so sad ; the change
in it took me by surprise, and my resolution
failed ; I clung to him. If gentlemen could in-
terpret as we can ho would never have left me.
It is better as it is. He kissed my tears away
as fast as they came : it was the first time he
had ever kissed more than my hand : so I shall
have that to think of, and his dear promised
letters : but it made me cry more at the time,
of course. Some day, when we have been mar-
ried years and years, I shall tell him not to go
and pay a lady for every tear ; if he wants her to
leave oflf.
The whole place so gloomy and vacant now.**
"Jan. 20th. Poverty stares us in the faee.
Edward says we could make a modest living in
London, and nobody be the wiser: but here we
arc known, and * must be ladies and gentlemen ;
and fools,' he says. He has now made me se-
riously promise not to give money and things out
of the house to the poor : it is robbing my mother
and him. Ah, now I see it is nonsense to de-
spise money: here I come home sad from my
poor pcoi)le ; and I used to return warm all over.
And the poor old souls do not enjoy my sermons
half so much as when I gave them things to cat
along with them.
The dear boy, that I alwajrs loved dearly, but
admire and love now that he has turned an in-
tolerable tyrant, and ho used to be Wax, has put
down two maids out of our three, and brings our
dinner up himself in a jacket, then puts on his
coat and sits down with us, and we sigh at him
and he grins and derides us ; he does not care
one straw for Pomp. And mamma and I have
to dress one another now. And I like it."
"Jan. 30th. He says we may now, by great
economy, subsist honestly till my wedding-day ;
but then mamma and he must * absquatulate,*
Oh, what stout hearts men have ! They can jest
at sorrow even when, in spite of their great thick
skins, they feel it. Ah, the real poor are hap-
py ; they marry, and need not leave the parish
where their mother lives."
" Feb. 4th. A kind and most delicate letter
from Jane. She snys, * Papa and I are much
grieved at Captain Dodd's afiliction, and deeply
concerned at your loss by the Bank. Papa has
asked Uncle Thomas for two hundred pounds,
and I entreat you to oblige me by receiving it at
my hands and applying it according to the dic-
tates of your own atfectionate heart.*
Actually our Viceroy will not let me take it :
he says he will not accept a crumb from the man
who owes us a loaf."
"Feb. 8th. Jane mortified, and no wonder. If
she knew how very poor we are, she would bo
surprised as well. I have implored her not to
take it to heart, for thnt all will be explained
I one day, and she will see we could not.
I His dear letters ! I feed on them. We have
. no secrets, no two minds. He is to be a first
- class and then a private tutor. Our money is to
.' go to mamma: it is ho and I that are to work
186
VEBY HARD CASH.
our fingers to the bone (I am so happy !), and
never let them be driven by injustice from their
home. But all this is a great secret. The Vice-
roy will be defeated, only I let him talk till Al-
fred is here to back me. No ; it is not just
the rightful owner of fourteen thousand pounds
should be poor.
How shallow female education is : I was al-
ways led to suppose modest;]^ is the highest vir-
tue'. No such thing ! Justice is the queen of
the virtues; he is justice incarnate."
"March 10th. On reperusing this diary, it is
demoralizing ; very : it feeds self. Of all the
detestable compositions! Me, Me, Me, from
one end to another; for when it is not about
myself, it is about Alfred, and that it is my he-
Mc though not my she-one. So now to turn
over a new leaf: from this day I shall record
only the things that happen in this house and
what my betters say to wie, not what I say ; and
the texts; and outline of the sermons; and
Jane's Christian admonitions."
Before a resolve so virtuous all impure spirits
retire, taking off their hats, bowing down to the
very ground, and apprehending Small Beer.
CHAPTER XXXI.
Extracts from Jane Hardie's Diary,
"March 3d. In my district again, the firet
time since my illness, from which I am indeed
but half recovered. Spoke faithfully to Mrs. B.
about her infidel husband : told her not to try
and talk to him: but to talk to God about him.
Gave her my tract, * A quiet heart.' Came home
tired. Prayed to be used to sharpen the sickles
of other reapers.'*
"Marcli 4th. At St. Philip's to hear the
Bishop. In the midst of an excellent sermon
on Gen. i. 2, he came out with the waters of
baptism, to my horror : he disclaimed the ex-
travagant view some of them take ; then han-
kering after what he denied, and then partly un-
said that too. While the poor man was trim-
ming his sails, I slunk behind a pillar in the
comer of my pew, and fell on my knees, and
prayed* against the stream of poison flowing on
the congregation. Oh, I felt like Jeremiah in
his dungeon.
In the evening papa forbade me to go to church
again: said the wind was too cold : I kissed him,
and went up to my room and put my head be-
tween thepillows not to hear the bells. Prayed
for poor" Alfred."
** March 5th. Sadly disappointed in J. D. I
did hope He was embittering the world to her
by degrees. But for some time past she writes
in ill-concealed spirits.
Another friend of mine, after seeking rest in
the world, is now seeking it in Ritualism. May
both be drawn from their rotten reeds to the
cross.
And oh this moral may my heart retain^
All hopes of happiness on earth are vain.^*
"March 6th. The cat is out of the bag. She
is corresponding with Alfred ; indeed she makes
no secret of it. Wrote her a faithful letter.
Received a short reply, saying I had made her
unhappy, and begging mo to suspend my judg-
ment till she could undeceive me without giving
too much pain. What mystery is this ?'*
" March 7th. Alfred announces his unalter-
able* determination to marry Julia. I read the
letter to papa directly. He was silent for a long
time : and then said, * All the worse for both of
them.* It was all I could do to suppress a thrill
of carnal complacency at the thought this might
in time pave the way to another union. Even
to think of that now is a sin. 1 Cor. vii. 20-4,
plainly shows that whatever position^ of life we
are placed in, there it is our duty to abide. A
child, for instance, is placed in subjection to her
parents ; and must not leave them without their
consent."
" March 8th. Sent two cups of cold water to
two fellow-pilgrims of mine on the way to Jeru-
salem, viz. : to E. H., Rom. riii. 1 ; to Mrs. M.,
Philipp. ii. 27.
Prayed for increase of humility. I am so
afraid my great success" in His vineyard has
seduced me into feeling as if there was a spring
of living water in myself, instead of every drop
derived from the true fountain."
" March 9th. Dr. Wycherley closeted two hours
with papa papa had sent for him, I find. What
is it makes me think that man is no true friend
to Alfred in his advice? I don't like these
roundabout speakers : the lively oracles are not
roundabout."
" March 10th. My beloved friend and fellow-
laborer, Charlotte D , ruptured a blood-ves-
sel^ at 3 P.M., and was conveyed in the chariots
of angels to the heavenly banqueting-house, to
go no more out. May I be found watching."
"March 11th. Dreadfully starved with these
afternoon sermons. If they go on like this, I re-
ajjy must stay at home, and feed upon the word."
"March 12th. Alfred has written to his trus-
tees, and announced his coming marriage, and
told them he is going to settle all his money
upon the Dodds. Papa quite agitated by thi^
news : it did not come from Alfred ; one of the
trustees wrote to papa. Oh, the blessing of
Heaven will never rest on this unnatural mar-
riage. Wrote a faithful letter to Alfred while
papa was writing to our trustee."
"March 13th. My book on Solomon's Song
now ready for publication. But it is so difficult
nowadays to find a publisher for such a subject.
The rage is for sentimental sermons, or else for
fiction' under a thin disguise of religious biog-
raphy."
"March 14th. Mr. Plummer, of whose zeal
and unction I had heard so much, was in the
town and heard of me, and came to see me by
appointment just after luncheon. Such a sweet
meeting. He came in and took my hand, and
in that posture prayed that the Holy Spirit might
be with us to make our conversation profitable
to us, and redound to His glory. Poor man,
his wife leads him a cat and dog life, I hear,
with her jealousy. We had a sweet talk ; he ad-
mires Canticles almost as much as I do* : and
has promised to take my book and get it cast on
the Lord for me."
"March 15th. To please^ one must not be
faithful". Miss L. after losing all her relations,
and at thirty years of age, is to be married next
week. She came to me and gushed out about
the blessing of having at last one earthly friend
to whom she could confide every thing. Oa
VERY HARD CASH.
187
this I felt it my daty to remind her she might
lose him by death, and then what a blank I and
I was going on to detach her from the arms
of flesh, when she burst out crying and left
me abruptly ; couldn't bear the truth, poor wo-
man.
In the afternoon met him and bowed, and
longed to speak, but thought it my duty not to :
cried bitterly on reaching home."
"March 17th. Transcribed all the* texts on
Solomon's Song. It seems to be the way He'
has marked out for me to serve him."
" March 19th. Received this letter from Al-
fred:
* Dear Jane, I send you a dozen kisses and
a piece of advice; learn more; teach less: study
more ; preach less : and don't be in such a hurry
to judge and condemn your intellectual and
moral superiors, on insufficient information.
Your affectionate brother,
Alfred.*
A poor return for me loving his soul as my own.
I do but advise him the self-denial I myself pur-
sue. Woe be to him if he rejects it."
"March 20th. A perverse reply from J. D.
I had proposed we should plead for our parents
at the Throne. She says she fears that might
seem like assuming the office of the mediator:
and besides her mother is nearer Heaven than
she is. What blindness ! I don't know a more
thoroughly unhealthy mind than poor Mrs."
Dodd's. I am learning to pray walking. Got
this idea from Mr. Plummer. How closely he
walks ! his mind so exactly suits mine."
"March 22d. Alfred returned. Went to
meet him at the station. How bright and
handsome he looked ! He kissed me so affec-
tionately ; and was as kind and loving as cq^d
be : I, poor unfaithful Avretch, went hanging** on
his arm, and had not the heart to dash his carnal
happiness just then.
He is gone there."
"March 24th. Stole into Alfred's lodging
when he was out; and, after prayer, pinned
Deuteronomy xxvii. 16, Proverbs xiii. 1, and
XV. 6, and Mark vii. 10, upon his bed-curtains."
"March 25lh. Alfred has been in my room,
and nailed Matthew vii. 1, Mark x. 7, and Ezek.
xviii. 20, on my wall. And he found my diary,
and has read it, not to profit by, alas! but to
KOff."
[Specimen of Alfred's comments. N.B. Fra-
ternal criticism :
A. Nolo Episcopari.
B. It's an ill wind that blows nobody good.
D. The old trick ; picking one text, straining
it ; and ignoring six. So then nobody who is
not bom married, must get married.
E. Recipe. To know people's real estimate
of themselves, study their language of self-de-
preciation. If even when they undertake to
lower themselves, they can not help insinuating
self-praise, be sure their humility is a puddle,
their vanity is a well. This sentence is typical
of the whole Diary, or rather lary ; it sounds
Publican, smells Pharisee.
X. How potent a thing is language in the
liand of a master I Here is sudden death made
humorous by a few incongruous phrases neatly
disposed.
F. Excuse me ; there is still a little market
fbr the Liquefaction of Holy Writ, and the Per-
version of Holy Writ ; two deathless arts, which
meet in your c6mment on the song you ascribe
to Solomon.
Z. And more than Mrs. Plummer does, appar-
ently.
G. Apotheosis of the British public. How
very like profaneness some people's Piety is !
C. H. Faith, with this school, means any thing
the opposite of Charity,
I. You arc morally truthful : but intellectual-
ly mendacious. The texts on Solomon's Song !
You know very well there is not one. No grave,
writer in all Scripture has ever deigned to cite,
or notice, that coarse composition; puellarum
deliciaj.
J. Modest periphrasis for "I like it." Motto
for this Diary; "Ego, et Deus mens."
K. In other words, a good, old-fashioned, so-
ber, humble Christian, to whom the daring fa^
miliarities of your school seem blasphemies.
M. Here I recognize my sister; somewhat
spoiled by a detestable sect ; but lovable by na-
ture (which she is forever abusing) ; and there-
fore always amiable, when off her guard.]
"March 28th. Mr. Crawford the attorney
called and told papa his son had instructed him
to examine the trust-deed, and to draw his mar-
riage settlement. Papa treated him with the
greatest'civility, and brought him the deed. He
wanted to take it away to copy ; but papa said
he had better send a clerk here. Poor papa hid
his distress from^this gentleman, though not from
me ; and gave him a glass of wine.
Then Mr. Crawford chatted, and let out Al-
fred had asked him to advance a hundred pounds
for the wedding presents, etc. Papa said he
might do so with perfect safety.
But the moment he was gone his whole man-
ner changed. He walked about in terrible an-
ger and agitation : and then sat do\ii and wrote
letters : one was to Uncle Thomas ; and one to
a Mr, Wycherley ; I believe a brother of the
doctor's. I never knew him so long writing two
letters before.
Heard a noise in the road^ and it was IVIr.
Maxley, and the boys after him hooting; they
have found out his infirmity: what a savage
animal is man, till grace changes him! The
poor soul had a stick, and now and then turned
and struck at them; but his tormentors were
too nimble. I drew papa to the window, and
showed him, and reminded him of the poor man's
request. He answered impatiently what was
that to him ? * we have a worse case nearer hand.
Charity begins at home.' I ventured to say yes,
but it did not begin and end at home."
" March 31st. Mr. Osmond here to-day ; and,
over my work, I heard papa tell him Alfred is
blackening his character in the town, with some
impossible story about fourteen thousand pounds.
Mr. Osmond very kind and sympathizing ; set it
all down to illusion; assured papa there was
neither malice nor insincerity in it. * But what
the better am I for that?' said poor papa: *if I
am slandered, I am slandered.' And they went
out together. ^
Papa seems to feel this engagement more than
all his trouUes, and, knowing by sad experience
it is useless to expostulate with Alfred, I wrote
a long id faithful letter to Julia, just before
luncheon, putting it to her as a Christian wheth-
er she could reconcile it to her profession to set
188
VERY HARD CASH.
a son against his father, and many him in open
defiance.
She replied 3 p.m. that her mother approved
the marriage, and she owed no obedience, nor
affection either, to my parent.
8.80. Sent back a line rebuking her for this
qaibble.
At 5 received a note from Mrs. Dodd propos-
ing that the correspondence between myself and
her daughter should cease ^r the present,
5.80. Retorted with an amendment that it
should ceaseybrercr. No reply. Such are world-
lings I Remonstrance only galls them. And so
in one afternoon's correspondence ends one more
of my Christian friendships with persons of my
own sex. This is the eighth to which a carnal
attachment has been speedily fatal.
In the evening Alfred came in looking very
red, and asked me whether it was not self-reliant
and uncharitable of me to condemn so many es-
timable persons, all better acquainted with the
circumstances than I am. I replied with the
fifth commandment. He bit his lip and said,
* We had better not meet again until you have
found out which is worthiest of honor, your fa-
ther or your brother.' And with this he left ab-
ruptly ; and something tells me I shall not see
him again. My faithfulness has wounded him to
the quick. Alas ! Prayed for him : and cried
myself to sleep."
"April 4th. Met him disguised as a common
workman, and carrying a sack full of things. I
was so shocked I could not maintain my resolu-
tion; I said. Oh, Mr. Edward, what are you
doing ? He blushed a little, but told me he was
' going to sell some candlesticks and things of his
making : and he should get a better price in that
dress : all traders looked on a gentleman as a
thing made to be pillaged. Then he told me
he was going to turn them into a bonnet and a
wreath ; and his beautiful brown eyes sparkled
with affection. What egotistical creatures they
must be I I was quite overcome, and said oh
why did he refuse our offer ? did he hate me so
very much that he would not even take his due
from my hand? No, ho said, nobody in our
house is so unjust to you as to hate you ; my sis-
ter honors you, and is very sorry you think ill of
her : and, as for me, I love you ; you know how
I love you. I hid my face in my hands ; and
sobbed out. Oh, you must* not ; you must not ;
my poor father has one disobedient child al-
ready. He said softly. Don't cry, dear one;
have a little patience ; perhaps the clouds will
clear: and, meantime, why think so ill of us?
Consider, we are four in number, of different
dispositions, yet all of one mind about Julia mar-
rying Alfred. May we not be right ; may we
not know something we love you too well to tell
you? His words and his rich manly votce were
80 soothing ; I gave him just one hand while I
still hid my burning face with the other; he
kissed the hand I yielded him, and left me ab-
ruptly.
If Alfred should be right! I am staggered
now ; he puts it so much more convincingly."
"April 6th. A letter from Alfred, announ-
cing his wedding by special license for the
nth.-
Made no reply. What coM I say?
Papa, on my reading it out, left his very break-
fast half finished, and packed up his bag and
rushed up to London. I canght a side view of
his face ; and I am miserable. Such a new, such
a terrible expression : a vile expression ! Heaven
forgive me, it seemed the look of one who medi-
tated a crime,**
CHAPTER XXXn.
The spirit of dissension in Musgrove Cottage
penetrated to the very kitchen. Old Betty sided
with Alfred, and combated in her place the creed
of the parlor. "Why, according to miss, the
young sparrows are bound never to fly out of the
nest, or else have the Bible flung at 'em. She
do go on about God's will : seems to me 'tis His
will the world should be peopled by body and
beast which they are both his creatures and,
by the same token, if they don't marry they does
wus. Certainly while a young man bides at
home, it behooves him to be dutiful ; but that
ain't to say he is to bide at home forever. Mas-
ter Alfred's time is come to leave we, and be
master in a house of his own, as his father done
before him, which he forgets that now. He is
grown to man's estate, and his mother's money,
and no more bound to our master than I be.**
She said, too, that "parting blights more quar-
rels than it breeds ;" and she constantly invited
Peggy to speak up and gainsay her. But Peggy
was a young woman with white eyelashes, and
given to looking down, and not to speaking up j
she was always watching Mr. Hardie in compa-
ny, like a cat cream ; and hovering about him
when alone. Betty went so far as to accuse her
of colloguing with him against Alfred, and of
"flitting her cap at master," which accusation
elicited no direct reply, but stinging innuendoes
hours after.
Now, if one looks into the thing, the elements
of discord had attacked Albion Villa quite as
powerfully as Musgrove Cottage ; but had hither-
to failed signally : the mutual affection of the
Dodds was so complete, and no unprincipled per-
son among them to split the good.
And now that the wedding drew near there
was but one joyful heart within the walls ; but
the others were too kind and unselfish to throw
cold water. Mrs. Dodd's own wedding had end-
ed in a piteous separation, and now to part with
her darling child, and launch her on the uncer-
tain waves of matrimony ! She heaved many a
sigh when alone : but, as there were no bounds
to her maternal love, so there were no exceptions
to her politeness: over her aching heart she
forced on a wedding face, subdued, but hopeful,
for her daughter, as she would for any other
young lady about to be married beneath her
roof. It was a heroic effort ; and partially suc-
cessful ; not wholly, because Julia loved her mo-
ther in earnest, and all true love is vigilance.
' It wanted but six days, when one morning after
breakfast, the bereaved wife, and pother about
to be deserted, addressed her son and Viceroy
thus : " Edward, we must borrow fifty pounds."
* * Fifty pounds ? what for ? who wants that ?"
" Why, / want it," said Mrs. Dodd, stoutly.
"Oh, ifyott want it! what to do, please?*'
" Why, to buy her wedding-clothes, dear." ^
" I thought what her ' I' would come to,*' said
Julia, reproachfully.
VERY HARD CASH.
189
Edward shook bis head and said, '*He who
goes a borrowing goes a sorrowing."
"Bat she is not a he:" objected Mrs.Dodd
with the subtlety of a schoolman: '*and who
ever heard of a young lady being married with-
out some things to be married inf*
"Well, IVe heard nudity is not the cheese,
on public occasions : but why not go dressed like
a lady as she always does, only wear white
gloves ; and be married without any bother and
nonsense."
" You talk like a boy," said Mrs. Dodd. *I
could not bear it. My poor child!" and she
cast a look of tenderest pity on the proposed vic-
tim. "Well, suppose we make the poor child
the judge," suggested Edward. He then put it
to Julia whether, under the circumstances, she
would wish them to run in debt, buying her
fineiT to wear for a day. " It was not fair to
ask A6r," said Mrs. Dodd, with a sigh.
Jtilia blushed and hesitated, and said she
would be candid ; and then stopped.
"Ugh !'* ejaculated Edward. * * This is a bad
beginning. GirPs candor! now for a master-
piece of Duplicity."
Julia inquired how he dared ; and Mrs. Dodd
said warmly that Julia was not like other people,
she could be candid ; had actually done it, more
than once, within her recollection. The young
lady justified the exception as follows: "If I
was going to be married to myself, or to some
gentleman I did not care for, I would not spend
a shilling. But I am going to marry him ; and
so oh, Edward, think of them saying *what
has he married ? a dowdy : why she hadn't new
things on to go to church with him : no bonnet,
no wreath, no new white dress!' To mortify
him the very first day of our " The sentelfce
remained unfinished, but two lovely eyes filled
to the very brim without running over, and com-
pleted the sense, and did the Viceroy's business,
though a brother. " Why you dear little goose,"
said he : " of course I don't mean that. I have
as good as got the things we must buy; and
those are a new bonnet '*
"Ah!"
"A wreath of orange blossoms **
*'0h you good boy !"
" Four pair of gloves : two white one is safe
to break two dark; very dark: invisible green,
or visible black ; last the honey-moon. All the
rest you must find in the house."
" What, fit her out with a parcel of old things?
Can you be so cruel, so unreasonable, dear Ed-
ward?"
"Old things! Why, where is all your gor-
geous attire from Oriental climes? I see the
^lendiferous articles arrive, and then they van-
ish forever."
"Now, shawls and Indian muslins ! pray what
use are they to a bride ?"
" Why what looks nicer than a white muslin
dress?"
"Married in muslin? The very idea makes
me shiver."
"Well, clap her on another petticoat."
" How can you be so childish ? MusUn is not
the thing.**
"No more is running in debt."
He then suggested that a white shawl or two
should be cut into a bridal dress. At which
both ladies* fair throats opened on him with
ridicule : cut fifty-guinea shawls into ten-pound
dresses ; that was male economy ; was it ? To-
tal ; a wedding was a wedding : new things al-
ways had had to be bought for a wedding, and
always would, in secula seculorum.
"New things? Yes," said the pertinacious
wretch. "But they need not be new-bought
things. You ladies go and confound the world's
eyes with your own in the drollest way : if gor-
geous attire has lain long in your drawers, you
fancy the world will detect on its glossy surface
how long you had it, and gloated over it, and
made it stale to your eye, before you could bring
your mind to wear it. That is your delusion,
that, and the itch for going out shopping, oh,
I'm down on you. Mamma dear, you open that
gigantic wardrobe of yours ; and I'll oil my hair,
whitewash my mug (a little moan from Mrs. D.),
and do the counterjumping business to the life ;
hand the things down to you, unroll 'em, grin,
charge you 100 per cent, over value, note mem
down in a penny memorandum book, sing out
'caesh! caesh!'etc., etc.: and so we shall get
all Julia wants, and go through the ritual of
shopping without the substantial disgrace of run-
ning in debt."
Mrs. Dodd smiled admiringly, as ladies gen-
erally do at the sauciness of a young male ; but
proposed an amendment. She would open her
wardrobe, and look out all the contents for Ed-
ward's inspection ; and, if the mere sight of them
did not convince him they were inappropriate to
a bride, why then she would coincide with his
views, and resign her own.
" All right !" said he. " That will take a jolly
time, I know ; so I'll go to my governor first for
the bonnet and wreath." .
Mrs. Dodd drew in at this last slang word ;
she had heard young gentlemen apply it to their
fathers.
Edward, she felt sure, would not so sully that
sacred relation: still the word was obnoxious
for its past ofibnses; and she froze at it: "I
have not the honor to know who the personage
is you so describe," said she, formally. Edward
replied very carelessly that it was an upholsterer
at the North end of the town.
"Ah, a tradesman you patronize.'*
" Humph ? Well, yes, that is the word, mam-
ma : haw ! haw I I have been making the bloke
a lot of oak candlesticks, and human heads,
with sparkling eyes, for walking-sticks, etc. And
now I'll go and draw my prot^g's blunt."
The lady's hands were uplifted toward pitying
Heaven with one impulse : the young workman
grinned : " Soyons de notre si^cle," said he, and
departed whistling, in the tenor clef. He had
the mellowest whistle in England.
After a few minutes well spent in deploring
the fall of her Oxonian, and gently denouncing
his motto, and his century, its ways, and, above
all, its words, Mrs. Dodd took JnUa to her bed-
room, and unlocked drawers, and doors, in her
wardrobe ; and straightway Sarah, who was hur-
riedly flogging the chairs with a duster, relaxed,
and began to work on a cheval-glass as slowly
as if she was drawing Nelsoif s lions at a thou-
sand pounds the tail. Mrs. Dodd opened a
drawer and took out three pieces of worked
Indian muslin, a little discolored by hoarding :
"There, that must be bleached and make you
some wrappers for the honey-moon, if the weatbf
140
VERY HARD CASH.
er is at an fine ; and petticoats to match ;** next
an envelope consisting of two foolscap sheets
tacked. This, carefully undone upon the bed,
rerealed a Brussels lace flounce and a veil : " It
was my own, " said Mrs. Dodd, softly. ' ' I saved
it for yon. See here is your name written on
it seventeen years ago. I thought * This dear
little toddler will have wings some day, and then
she will leave me.' But now I am almost afraid
to let yon wear it ; it might bring you misfor-
tune : suppose after years of wedded love you
should be bereaved of" Mrs. Dodd choked,
and Julia's arms were round her neck in a mo-
ment.
" 1*11 risk it," cried she, impetuously. " If it
but makes me as beloved as you are ; I'll wear
it come weal, come woe I And then I shall feel
it over me at the altar like my guardian angel's
wings, my own sweet, darling mamma. Oh
what an idiot, what a wretch I am, to leave you
at all!"
This unfortunate, unexpected burst interrupt-
ed business sadly. Mrs. Dodd sank down di-
rectly on the bed and wept; Julia cried over
her, and Sarah plumped herself down in a chair
and blubbered. But wedding flowers are gen-
erally well watered in the private apartments.
Patient Mrs. Dodd soon recovered herself:
"This is childlike of me. When I think that
there are mothers who see their children go from
the house corpses, not brides, I ought to be
ashamed of myself. Come ! k I'oeuvre. Ah,
here is something." And she produced a white
China crape shawl. " Oh, how sweet," said Ju-
lia ; ** why have you never worn it ?"
**Dear me, child, what use would things be
to those I love if I went and wore them?"
The next article she laid her hand on was a
roll of white poplin, and drew an exclamation
from Mrs. Dodd herself: ** If I had not forgotten
this, and it is the very thing ! Tour dear papa
bought me this in London, and I remonstrated
with him well for buying me such a delicate
thing, only once wear. I kissed it and put it
away, and forgot it. They say if you keep a
thing seven years. It is just seven vears since
he gave it me ; really the dear boy is a witch :
this is your wedding-dress, my precious pre-
cious." She unrolled a few yards on the bed to
show it ; and asked the gloating Sarah, with a
great appearance of consideration, whether they
were not detaining her from her occupations ?
** Oh no, mum. This glass have got so dull ;
I'm just polishing of it a bit. I sha'n't be a
minute now, mum."
From silver tissue paper Mrs. Dodd evolved a
dress (unmade) of white crape embroidered in
true-lovers-knots of violet silk, and ears of wheat
in gold. Then there was a scream at the glass,
and Sarah seen in it with ten claws in the air
very wide apart : she had slyly turned the mirror
and was devouring the reflection of the finery,
and this last Indian fabric overpowered her.
Her exclamation was instantly followed by much
polishing ; but Mrs. Dodd replied to it after the
manner of her sex: "Well it is lovely," said
she to Julia : " but where is the one with beetle
wings ? Oh here."
"Real beetle's wings, mamma?" inquired
Julia.
"Yes, love." I
"So thej are, and how wicked! and what a
lovely green! I will never wear them: they
are prismatic : now, if ever I am to be a Chris-
tian I had better begin : every thing to a be-
ginning. Oh vanity of women, you stick at
nothing ! A thousand innocent lives stolen to
make one dress." And she put one hand before
her eyes, and with the other ordered the dress
back into the wardrobe with a genuine agitation.
" My dear, what expressions ! And you need
not wear it ; indeed neither of them is fit for that
purpose. But you must have a pretty thing or
two about you. I have hoarded these a good
many years ; now it is your turn to have them
by you. And let me see : you want a traveling
Cloak, but the dear boy will not let us; so choose
a warm shawl."
A rich but modest one was soon found, and
Julia tried it on, arching her supple neck, and
looking down over her shoulder to see the efiect
behind, in which attitude oh for an inunortal
brush to paint her, or any thing half as bright,
supple, graceful, and every inch a woman ! At
this moment Mrs. Dodd threw a lovely blue
Indian shawl on the bed, galvanizing Sarah so
that up went her hands again, and the door
opened softly, and a handsome head in a paper
cap peeped on the scene, inquiring with mocked
timidity, "May *The British Workman' come
in?" He was invited warmly, Julia whipped
his cap off, and tore it in two, reddening, and
Mrs. Dodd, intending to compliment his fore-
sight, showed him the bed laden with the treas-
ures they had disinterred from vanity's mahog-
any tomb.
"Well, mother," said he, "you were right,
and I was wrong: they are inappropriate enough,
the whole lot."
The ladies looked at one another, and Sarah
permitted herself a species of snort.
"Do we want Sarah?" he asked, quietly.
She retired bridling.
"Inappropriate?" exclaimed Mrs. Dodd.
"There is nothing here unfit for a bride^s
trousseau."
"Good Heavens! Would you trick her out
like a Princess ?"
" We must. We are too poor to dress her
like a lady."
"Cinderella ; at your service," observed Julia
complacently, and pirouetted before him in her
new shawL
Ideas, rejected peremptorily at the time, often
rankle, and bear fruit by-and-by. Mrs. Dodd
took up the blue shawl, and said she would make
Julia a peignoir of it; and the border being
narrowish, would do for the bottom. "That
was a good notion of yours, darling," said she,
bestowing a sweet smile on Edward. He grunt-
ed. Then she took out a bundle of lace : " Oh,
for pity's sake, no more," cried the "British
Workman."
"Now, dearest, you have interfered once in
feminine affairs, and we submitted. But, if you
say another word, I will trim her poplin with
Honiton two feet deep."
"Quarter! quarter!" cried Edward. "Fm
dumb ; grant me but this ; have nothing made
up for her out of the house : yon know Siere is
no dress-maker in Barkington can cut like yon:
and then that will put some limit to our incon-
sistency." Mrs. Dodd agreed; |ut she most
have a woman in to sew.
VEEY HAED CASH:.
141
Edward granted at this, an4 said : ** I wish
I could turn you these gowns with my lathe;
what a deal of time and bother it would save.
However, if you want any stuffing, come to me ;
I'll lend you lots of shavings; make the silk
rustle. Oh here is my governor's contribution.'*
And he produced 7 10s.
"Now, look there,'* said Julia, sorrowfully,
" it is money, and I thought you were going to
bring me the very bonnet yourself. Then I
should have valued it."
" Oh yes," replied the young gentleman iron-
ically, "can I choose a bonnet to satisfy such
swells as you and mamma? I'll tell you what
til do ; I'll go with you, and look as wise as Sol-
omon all the time you are choosing it."
* ' A capital plan, " said Julia.
Edward then shook his fist at the finery, and
retired to work again for his Governor : " Flow-
ers," he observed, "are indispensable at a wed-
ding breakfast ; I hear too it is considered the
right cheese to add something in the shape of
grub." Exit whistling in the tenor clef; and
keeping their hearts up, like a man.
So now there were two work-shops in Albion
ViUa; Ned's study, as he called it, and the
drawing-room : in the former, shavings flew, and
settled at their ease, and the whirr of the lathe
slept not; the latter was all patterns, tapes,
hooks-and-eyes, whalebone, cuttings of muslin,
poplin, and paper, clouds of lining-muslin, snakes
of piping, skeins, shreds, and the floor literally
sown with pins, escaped from the flngers" of the
fair, those taper flngers so typical of the minds
of their owners ; for they have softness, supple-
ness, nimbleness, adroitness, and "a plentiful
lack" of tenacity.
The days passed in hard work, and the even-
ings in wooing, never sweeter than when it has
been so earned : and at last came the wedding-
eve. Dr. Sampson, who was to give the bride
away, arrived just before dinner-time : the party,
including Alfred, sat down to a charming little
dinner ; they ate beetles' wings, and drank In-
dian muslin fifteen years in the wood. For the
lathe and the chisel proved insufficient, and Ju-
lia, having really denied herself, as an aspirant
to Christianity, that assassin's robe, Mrs. Dodd
sold it under the rose to a fat old dowager for
whom nothing was too fine and so kept up ap-
pearances.
Julia and Alfred were profoundly happy at
bottom ; yet their union was attended with too
many drawbacks for boisterous gayety, and Al-
fred, up to this time, had shown a seriousness
and sobriety of bliss that won Mrs. Dodd's grati-
tude. It was the demeanor of a delicate mind ;
it became his own position, at odds with his own
flesh and Uood for Julia's sake ; it became him,
as the son-in-law of a poor woman so lately be-
reaved of her husband, and reduced to poverty
by one bearing the name of Hardie.
But now Dr. Sampson introduced a gayer ele-
ment. He had seen a great deal of Life ; i. e.
of death and trouble. This had not hardened
him, but, encountering a sturdy, valiant, self-
protecting nature, had made him terribly tough
and elastic ; it was now his way never to go for-
ward or backward a single step after sorrow.
He seldom mentioned a dead friend or relation,
and if others forced on the dreary topic on him,
they could never hold him to it; he was away
directly to something pleasant or useful, like a
grasshopper skipping off a grave into the green
grass. He had felt keenly about David while
there was any thing to be done : but now hia
poor friend was in a mad-house, thanks to the
lancet ; and there was an end of him. Thinking
about him would do him no good. The present
only is irresistible ; past aUd future ills the mind
can bar out by a resolute effort. The bride will
very likely die of her first child! Well then,
forget that j ust now. Her father is in an asylum I
well then, don't remember him at the wrong
time : there sit female beauty and virtue ready
to wed manly wit and comeliness, seated oppo-
site. See their sweet stolen glances; a few
hours only between them and wedded rapture :
and I'm here to give the lovely virgin away : fill
the bumper high I dum vivimus vivamus. In
this glorious spirit he rattled on, and soon drew
the young people out, and silvery peals of laugh-
ter rang round the genial board.
This jarred on Mrs. Dodd. She bore it in
silence some time; but, with the grief it re-
vived, and sharpened by contrast, and the po-
lite effort to hide her distress, found herself be-
coming hysterical: then she made the usual
signal to Julia, and beat an early retreat. She
left Julia in the drawing-room, and went and
locked herself in her own room. " Oh, how
can they be so cruel as to laugh and giggle in
my David's house!" She wept sadly, and for
the first time felt herself quite lonely in the
world: for what companionship between the
gay and the sad-hearted? Poor thing, she
lived to reproach herself even with this, the
nearest approach she ever made to selfishness.
Ere long she crept into Juli^^'s room and
humbly busied herself packing her trunks for
the wedding tour. The tears fell fast on her
white hands.
She would not have been left alone a minnte
if Julia's mind had not been occupied just dien
with an affectionate and seemly anxiety : she
earnestly desired to reconcile her Alfred and his
sister before the wedding; and she sat in the
drawing-room thinking whether it could be done,
and how.
At last she sat down blushing and wrote a
little note, and rang the bell for Sarah, and sent
it courageously into the dining-room.
Sarah very pradently listened at the keyhole
before entering; for she said to herself, "If
they are talking free, I sha'n't go in till it's
over."
The persons so generously suspected were dis-
cussing a parchment Alfred had produced, and
wante^ signed : "You are our trustee, my boy,"
said he to Edward: "so just write your name
here, and mine comes here, and the witnesses
there: the Doctor and Sarah will do. Send
for a pen."
"Let's read it first, please."
"Read it! What for?"
" Catch me signing a paper without reading
it, my boy."
* * What, can't you trust me?" inquired Alfred,
hurt.
* * Oh yes. And can't you trust me ?"
" There's a question : why I have named you
my Trusty in the deed ; he, he."
" Well then trast me without my signing, and
111 trust you wi&out reading."
142
VERY HARD CASH.
Sampson laughed at this retort, and Alfred
reddened ; he did not want the Deed read. Bat
while he hesitated, Sarah came in with Julia's
note, asking him to come to her for a minute.
This sweet summons made him indifferent to
prosaic things. "Well, read away,*' said he:
" one comfort, you will be no wiser."
** What, is it in Latin ?" asked Edward, with a
wry face.
"No such luck. Deeds used to be in Latin ;
but Latin could not be made obscure enough.
So now Dark Deeds are written in an unknown
tongue called *Lawyerish,* where the sense is
' as one grain of wheat in two bushels of chaff;'
pick it out if you can."
"Whatever man has done man may do,*' said
Dr. Sampson, stoutly. "Tou have rid it, and
yet understood it: so why majrn't we, ye mon-
ster o' conceit ?"
" Read it ?" said Alfred. " I never read it :
would not read it for a great deal of money.
The moment I saw what a senseless rigmarole
it was, I flung it down and insisted on the bat-
tological author fumishing me with an English
translation. He complied: the crib occupies
just twenty lines; the original three folio pages,
as you see. That crib, gentlemen," added he,
severely, "is now in my waistcoat pocket; and
you shall never see it for your impudence.
No, seat yourselves by that pool of parchment
(sedet coetemumque sedebit, etc.) and fish for
Lawyer Crawford's ideas, rari nantes in gurgite
vasto." And with this he ^ew up stairs on the
wings of love. Julia met him in the middle of
the room all in a flutter : " It is to ask you a fa-
vor. I am unhappy about one thing."
" Then I ask you a favor ; to let me try and
make you happy."
"Dear, dear Alfred!**
She then leaned one hand softly on his shoul-
der, and curving her lovely, supple neck, looked
round into his face and watched it as she pre-
ferred her petition : "It is about Jane and you.
I can not bear to part you two in this way : only
think, six days you have not spoken ; and I am
the cause."
"Not the only cause, love."
"I don't know, darling. But it is very cru-
el. I have got my dear mother and Edward ;
you have nobody but Me. Alfred,'* said she,
with gentle impetuosity, " now is the time ; your
papa is away.'*
" Oh, is he ?** said Alfred, carelessly.
"Yes. Sarah says Betty says he is gone to
Uncle Thomas. So I know you won't refuse me,
my own Alfred : it is to go to your sister this
minute and make it up.'*
"What, and leave you ?" objected Alfred, rue-
fully.
"No, no; you are- ivitli ihe gentlemen, you
know: you are not heife, in reaHty^ till tea.
Make them an excuse : say the Tmth (^^ it is
Me : and come back to me with good nc^."
He consented on these terms.
Then she armed him with advice: "You go
to make peace ; it is our last chance ; now re-
member, you must be very generous, very sweet-
tempered. Guard against your impetuosity. Oh
take warning by me ; see how impetuous I am.
And then, you know, after all, she is only a wo-
man, and a great creature like you ought not to
be ruMed hj anj thing so smidl as a woman's
tongue : the idea I And, dearest, don't go trust-
ing to your logic, but do descend to the arts of
persuasion, because they are far more convincing
somehow: please try them.**
"Yes. Enumerate them."
"Why, kissing, and coaxing, and don't ask
me.*'
"Will you bestow a specimen of those arts on
me if I succeed ?*'
"Try me,*' said she : and looked him earnest-
ly in the face ; but lowered her long lashes slow-
ly and shyly, as she realized to what her Impet-
uosity was pledging itself.
Alfred got his hat and ran to Musgrove Cot-
tage.
A man stepped out of the shadow of a hedge
opposite Albion Villa, and followed him, keep-
ing in shadow as much as possible.
The door of Musgrove Cottage was opened to
him by old Betty with a joyful start : " Mr. Al-
fred, I cfeclare ! Come in ; there's onlv me and
Miss. Master is in Yorkshire, and that there
crocodile, Peggy, she is turned away ^for sauce
and a good riddance of bad rubbish ; Miss is
in the parlor."
She ushered him triumphantly in. Jane was
seated reading : she dropped her book, and ran
and kissed him with a cry of joy. So warm a
reception surprised him agreeably, and simplified
'his task. He told her he was come to try and
make it up with her before the wedding : "We
lose your presence, dear Jenny,** said he, "and
that is a great grief to us, valuing yon as we
do: don't refuse us your good wishes to-mor-
row."
"Dearest Alfred," said she, "can you think
it ? I pray for you day and night. And I have
begun to blame myself for being so snrejroa
were in the wrong and poor papa faultless. 'V^Hiat
you sent me half in jest I take in earnest.
'Judge not, that ye be not judged.'"
**Why, Jenny,*' said Alfred, "how red your
eyes are.*'
At this observation the young saint laid her
head on her brother*s shoulder and had a good
cry like any other girl. When she recovered a
little she told him, Yes, she had been very un-
happy: that he had always been a dear good
brother to her, and the only one she had ; and '
that it cut her to the heart not to be at his wed-
ding ; it seemed so unkind.
Alfred set her on his knee she hkKl more
soul than body and kissed her and comforted
her : and, in this happy revival of natural affec-
tion, his heart opened, he was off his guard, and
told her all : gave her the several proofs their
father had got the 14,000. Jane, arrested by
the skill and logical clearness with which he
marshaled the proofs, listened in silence.; and
presently a keen shudder ran through her frame
and reminded him he was setting a daughter
against her father.
"There," said he, "I always said I would
never tell you, and now I*ve done it. Well, at
least you will see with what consideration. and
unheard-of leniency the Dodds, for our sake^
are treating Mr. Richard Hardie. Just com-
pare their conduct to him with his to them.
And which is most to. his advantage? that I
should marry Julia, and give Mi^. Dodd the lifb-
VERY HABD CASH.
148
Interest in my ten thousand pounds, to balance
his dishonesty, or for him to be indicted as a
thief? Ned Dodd told us plainly he would have
set the police on him had any other but his son
been the informant."
Did he say that ? Oh, Alfred, this is a mis-
erable world."
" I can't see it : it is the jolliest world in the
world : every thing is bright and lovely, and ev-
ery body is happy except a few sick people, and
a few peevish ones that run to meet trouble;
to-morrow I marry my sweet Julia; Richard
Hardie will find we two don't molest him, nor
trouble our heads about him ; he will get used
to us ; and one fine day we shall say to him,
*Now, we know all about the 14,000: just
leave it by will to dear Jenny, and let my friend
Dodd marry her, and you can enjoy it unmo-
lested for your lifetime.' He will consent : and
you will marry Ned, and then you'll find the
world has been wickedly slandered, by dishonest
men, and dismal dogs."
In this strain he continued till he made her
blush a good deal and smile a little ; a sad smile.
Her Piety was unflinching ; but her justice not
so stem as his. She could not shake off a fa-
ther, just for cheating.
But at last she said, ''If I was sure all this is
true, I think I would go with a heavy heart
to your wedding. K I don't, the best part of
me will be there, my prayers, and my warm,
warm wishes for you both. Kiss her for me,
and tell her so ; and that I hope we shall meet
round His throne soon, if we can not meet at
His altar to-morrow."
Brother and sister then kissed one another
affectionately; and Alfred ran back like the
wind to Albion Cottage. Julia was not in the
drawing-room, and some coolish tea was. After
waiting half an hour he got impatient, and sent
Sarah to say he had a message for her. Sarah
went up stairs to Mrs. Dodd's room, and was in-
stantly absorbed. After waiting again a long
time, Alfred persuaded Edward to try his luck.
Edward went up to Mrs. Dodd's room, and was
absorbed.
The wedding dress was being solemnly tried
on. A clean Unen sheet was on the floor, and
the bride stood on it, receiving the last touches
of the milliner's art. With this and her white
poplin and lace veil she seemed framed in white,
and lovely, her cheeks bloomed so, and her eyes
beamed, with excitement and innocent vanity,
that altogether she was supematurally lovely.
Once enter the room enchanted by this snow-
clad rose, and ^Vestigia nulla retrorsum.
However Edward escaped at last, and told
Alfred what was on foot, and drew a picture of
the Bride, with white above and white below.
" Oh, let me see her," implored the lover.
Edward must ask mamma about that. He
did, and mamma said ''Certainly not; the last
persoVi in the world that shall see her in her
wedding dress." But she should come down to
him in half an hour. It seemed a very long
half hour. However, by way of compensation,
he was alone when she did come. "Good
news ?" she asked, eagerly.
"Capital: we are the best of friends. Why
she is half inclined to coTTie."
"Then oh how good you are; oh, how I
love you.*'
And she flung a tender arm round his neck,
like a young goddess making love; and her
sweet face came so near his he had only to stoop
a little, and their lips met in a long blissful kiss.
That kiss was an era in her life. Innocence
itself, she had put up her delicious lips to her
lover in pure, though earnest, affection ; but the
male fire with which his met them made her
blush as well as thrill, and she drew back a
little, abashed and half scared, and nestled on
his shoulder, hiding a face that grew redder and
redder.
He bent his graceful head and murmured
down to her, " Are you afraid of me, sweetest?"
" Oh no, no ! Yes, a little : I don't know. I
was afraid I had made too free with my Treas-
ure; you don't quite belong to me yet, you
know."
" Oh yes, I do : and, what is more, you be-
long to me. Don't you? Sweet rebel."
" Ah, that I do, heart and soul, my own, own,
own, own."
A few more soft delicious murmurs, and then
Julia was summoned to more rites of vanity,
and the lovers parted with tender reluctance for
those few hours.
Alfred went home to his lodgings.
He had not been there above ten minutes
when he came out hastily and walked quickly to
the "White Lion," the principal Inn in Bark-
ington. He went into the stable-yard and said
a few words to the hostler : then returned to his
lodgings.
A man followed him at a distance from Albion
Terrace; watched him home; dogged him to
the "White Lion;" and by-and-by entered the
yard and offered the hostler a glass of ale at the
tap.
At Albion Villa they were working on Julia's
dresses till past midnight : and then Mrs. Dodd
insisted on her going to bed. She obeyed ; but
when the house was all quiet came stealing out
to her mother and begged to sleep with her:
the sad mother strained her in a tearful em-
brace : and so they passed the night ; clinging
to one another more as the party drew near.
Edward arranged the wedding-breakfast for
after the ceremony; and sent the ladies up a
cup of coffee, and a bit of toast apiece ; they
could hardly find appetite even for this; or in-
deed time ; there was so much still to do.
At ten o'clock Julia was still in the height of
dressing, delayed by contretemps upon contre-
temps. Sarah and her sister did her hair up
too loose, and, being a glorious mass, it threat-
ened all to come down ; and meantime a hair-
pin quietly but persistently bored her cream-
white poll.
" Oh, send for mamma !"
Mamma came half-dressed, had the hair all
down again, and did it up with adroit and lov-
ing hand, and put on the orange wreath, kissed
her admiringly, and retired to her own toilet;
and the girls began to lace the bride's body.
Bump came Edward's foot against the door,
making them all shriek.
"Now I don't want to hnny you; but Dr.
Sampson is come."
The handmaids flustered, tried to go faster;
and when the work was done, Julia took her
little hand-glass and inspected her back : f^ Oh,"
144
YEBY HABD CASH.
she screamed, * I am crooked. There, ran for
mammal"
Mamma soon came, and the poor bride held
out imploring hands: "Tm all awry. I'm as
crooked as a ram's-horn."
"La, miss," said Sarah, "it's only behind;
nobody will notice it."
" How can they help it ? Biamma I am I de-
formed?"
Mrs. Dodd smiled superior and bade her be
calm : "It is the lacing, dear. No, Sarah, it is
no use your pulling it ; all the pulling in the
world will not straighten it. I thought so : you
have missed the second top hole."
Julia's little foot began to beat a tattoo on the
floor: "There is not a soul in the house but
you can do the simplest thing. Eyes and no
eyes ! Fingers and no fingers I I never didT*
"Hush, love, we all do our best."
" Oh, I am sure of that ; poor things.**
*^ Nobody can lace you if you fidget about,
love," objected Mrs. Dodd.
(Bump!) "Now I don't want to hurry any
man's cattle: but the bridemaids are come."
"Oh dear, I shall never be ready in time,"
said Julia ; and the tattoo recommenced.
" Plenty of time, love," said Mrs. Dodd, quiet-
ly lacing: *not half past ten yet. Sarah, go
and see if the bridegroom has arrived."
Sarah returned with the reassuring tidings
that the bridegroom had not yet arrived ; though
the carriages had.
"Oh, thank Heaven he is not come," said
Julia. " If I keep him waiting to-day, he might
say* Oho' I"
Under dread of a comment so cutting she was
ready, at last, and said majestically he might
come now whenever he liked.
Meantime, down stairs, an uneasiness of the
opposite kind was growing. Ten minutes past
the appointed time, and the bridegroom not
there. So while Julia, now full dressed, and
easy in her mind, was directing Sarah's sister to
liy out her plain traveling dress, bonnet and
gloves, on the bed, Mrs. Dodd was summoned
dowii stairs : she came down with Julia's white
gloves in her hand and a needle and thread, the
button sewed on by trade's fair hand having
flown at the first strain. Edward met her on
the stairs : "What had we better do, mother?"
said he, sotto voce : " there must be some mis-
take. Can you remember ? Wasn't he to call
for me on the way to the church?"
"I really do not know," said Mrs. Dodd.
" Is he at the church, do you think ?"
"No, no, either he was to call for me here,
or I for him. I'll go to the church though, it is
only a step."
He ran off, and in little more than five min-
utes came into the drawing-room.
"No, he is not there. I must go to his lodg-
ings. Confound him, he has got reading Aris-
totle, I suppose."
This passed before the whole party, Julia ex-
cepted.
Sampson looked at his watch, and said he
could conduct the ladies to the church while
Edward went for Alfred. " Division of labor,"
said he, gallantly, "and mine the delightful
half."
Mrs. Dodd demurred to the plan. She was
for Vaiting quietly in one place.
" Well, but," said Edward, "we may overdo
that ; here it is a quarter past eleven, and you
know they can't be married after twelve. !No, I
really think you had better all go with the doc-
tor : I dare say we shall be there as soon as you
will."
This was agreed on after some discussion:
Edward, however, to provide against all contin-
gencies, begged Sampson not to wait for him
should Alfr^ reach the church by some other
road: "I'm only groomsman, you know," said
he. He ran off at a racing pace. The bride
was then summoned, admired, ancT handed into
one carriage with her two bridemaids. Miss
Bosanquet and Miss Darton ; Sampson and Mrs.
Dodd went in the other ; and by half past eleven
they were all safe in the church.
A good many people, high and low, were
about the door and in the pews waiting to see the
beautiful Miss Dodd married to the son of a per-
sonage once so popular as Mr. Hardie : it had
even transpired that Mr. Hardie disapproved the
match. They had been waiting a long time, and
were beginning to wonder what was the matter,
when, at last, the bride's party walked up the
aisle with a bright April sun shining on them
through the broad old windows. The bride's
rare beauty, and stag-like carriage ; of her head
imperial in its loveliness and orange wreath,
drew a hum of admiration.
The party stood a minute or two at the east
end of the church, and then the clergyman came
out and invited them into the vestry.
Their reappearance was eagerly expected ; in
silence at first, but presently in loud and multi-
tudinous whispers.
At this moment a young lady with almost
perfect featurea and sylph-like figure, modestly
dressed in dove-colored silk, but with a new c^p
bonnet and white gloves, entered a pew near the
west door, and said a little prayer; then pro-
ceeded up the aisle, and exchanged a word with
the clerk, then into the vestry.
"Cheep I cheep! cheep!" went fifty female
tongues, and the arrival of the bridegroom's sis-
ter became public news.
The bride welcomed her in the vestry with a
sweet guttural of surprise and delight, and they
kissed one another like little tigers.
"Oh my darling friend, how kind of you!
have I got you back to make my happiness com-
plete?"
Now none of her own party had thought it
wise to tell Julia there was any hitch : but Miss
Hardie blurted out naturally enough: "But
Where's Alfred?"
"I don't know, dear," said Julia, innocent-
ly. "Are not he and Edward in another part
of the church ? I thought we were waiting tffl
twelve o'clock, perhaps. Mamma dear, you
know every thing. I suppose this is all right?"
Then, looking round at her friend's faces,
she saw in a moment that it was all wfong.
Sampson's, in particular, was burning with man-
ly indignation, and even her mother's discom-
posed, and trying to smile.
When the innocent saw this, she suspected her
beloved was treating her cavalierly, and her poor
little mouth began to work, and she had much
ado not to whimper.
Mrs. Dodd, to encourage her, told her not to
be put out : it had been arranged all along that
VERY HARD CASH.
145
Edward should go for him : "Unfortunately we
had an impression it was the other way: but
now Edward is gone to hi^ lodgings."
"No, mamma," said Julia; "Alfred was to
call for Edward ; because our house was on the
way."
"Are you sure, my child?" asked Mrs. Dodd,
very gravely.
" Oh, yes, mamma," said Julia, beginning to
tremble : ** at a quarter before eleven. I heard
them settle it."
The matter was terribly serious now ; indeed
it began to look hopeless. Weather overcloud-
ed ; rain-drops falling ; and hard upon twelve
o'clock.
They all looked at one another in despair.
Suddenly there was a loud, long, buzzing
heard outside, and the house of God turned into
a gossiping fair. "Talk of money-changers,*'
said Satan, that day, "give me the exchangers
of small talk."
"Thank Heaven they are come," said Mrs.
Dodd. But, having thus relieved her mind, she
drew herself up and prepared a freezing recep-
tion for the defaulter.
A whisper reached their excited ears : " It is
young Mr. Dodd !" and next moment Edward
came into the vestiy alone : the sight of him
was enough ; his brow wet with perspiration, his
face black and white with bitter wrath.
"Come home, my people," he said, sternly:
"there will be no wedding here to-day."
The bridemaids cackled questions to him ; he
turned his back fiercely on them.
Mrs. Dodd knew her son's face too well to
waste inquiries. * ' Give me my child ! " she cried,
in such a burst of mother's anguish long re-
strained, that even the insult to the bride was
forgotten for one moment, till she was seen tot-
tering into her mother's arms and crinn:ing and
trying to hide bodily in her: " Oh, throw a shawl
over me," she moaned : "hide all this !"
Well, they all did what they could; Jane
hung round her neck and sobbed, and said,
"I've a sister now, and no brother." The
bridemaids cried. The young curate ran and
got the fly to the vestry-door: "(Jet into it,"
he said, " and y^u will at least escape the curi-
ous crowd."
"God bless you, Mr. Hurd," said Edward,
half choked. He hurried the insulted bride and
her mother in ; Julia huddled and shrank into a
comer under Mrs. Dodd's shawl; Mrs. Dodd
had all the blinds down in a moment ; and they
went home as from a funeral.
Ay, and a funeral it was; for the sweetest
girl in England buried her hopes, her laugh,
her May of youth, in that church that day.
When she got to Albion Villa she cast a wild
look all around for fear she should be seen in
her wedding-clothes ; and darted moaning into
the house.
Sarah met her in the hall, smirking; and
saying, "Wish you j "
The poor bride screamed so fearfully at the
mocking wdrds, she cut the conventional phrase
in two as with a razor; then fled to her own
room, and tore off her wreath, her veil, her
pearls, and had already strewed the room, when
Mrs. Dodd, with a foot quickened by affection,
burst in and caught her half fainting, and laid
her, weary as old age, and cold as a stone, upon
her mother's bosom, and rocked her as in the
days of happy childhood, never to return, and
bedewed the pale face with her own tears.
Sampson took the bridemaids each to her res-
idence, on purpose to leave Edward free. He
came home, washed his face, and, sick at heart,
but more master of himself, knocked timidly at
Julia's door.
" Come in, my son," said a broken voice.
He crept in; and saw a sorry sight. The
traveling dress and bonnet were waiting still on
the bed ; the bridal wreath and veil lay on the
floor ; and so did half the necklace, and the rest
of the pearls all about the floor ; and Julia, with
all her hair loose and hanging below her waist,
lay feebly moaning in her mother's arms.
Edward stood and looked, and groaned.
Mrs. Dodd whispered to him over Julia;
"Not a tear I not a tear!"
"Dead, or false?" moaned the girl: "dead,
or false ? oh, that I could believe he was false :
no, no, he is dead : dead."
Mrs. Dodd whispered again over her girl.
"Tell her something: oh, give me tears for
her the world for one tear."
"What shall I say?" gasped Edward.
"Tell her the truth, and trust to God, whose
child she is."
Edward knelt on the floor and took her hand :
"My poor little Ju," he said, in a voice bro-
ken with pity and emotion, " would you rather
have him dead, or false to you ?"
" Why false, a thousand times. It's Edward.
Bless your sweet face, my own, own brother;
tell me he is false, and not come to deadly
harm."
"Ton shall judge for yourself," he groaned.
" I went to his lodgings. He had left the town.
The woman told me a letter came for him last
night. A letter in a female hand. The scoun-
drel came in from us, got this letter ; packed up
his things directly ; paid his lodging ; and went
off in a two-horse fly at eight o'clock in the
morning."
CHAPTER yxxm.
At these plain proofs of Alfred's infidelity
Julia's sweet throat began to swell hysterically,
and then her bosom to heave and pant: and,
after a piteous struggle, came a passion of sobs
and tears so wild, so heart-broken, that Edward
blamed himself bitterly for telling her.
But Mrs. Dodd sobbed "No, no, I would
rather have her so ; only leave her with me now :
bless you, darling ; leave us quickly."
She rocked and nursed her deserted child
hours and hours; and so the miserable day
crawled to its close.
Down stairs the house looked strange and
gloomy: she, who had brightened it all, was
darkened herself. The wedding breakfast and
flowers remained in bitter mockery. Sarah
cleared half the table, and Sampson and Edwnrd
dined in moody silence.
Presently Sampson's eye fell upon the Deed :
it lay on a small table with a pen beside it, to
sign on their return from church.
Sampson got hold of it and buried himself in
the verbiage like a pearl-fisher diving. He
came up again with a discovery. In spite of iu
146
VERY HASD CASH.
feebleness, verbosity, obscurity, and idiotic way
of expressing itself, the Deed managed to convey
to David and Mrs. Dodd a life-interest in nine
thousand five hundred pounds, with reversion
to Julia and the children of the projected mar-
riage. Sampson and Edward put their heads
over this, and it puzzled them. "Why, man,"
said Sampson, "if the puppy had signed this
last night he would.be a beggar now."
" Ay," said Edward, " but after all he did not
sign it."
"Nay, but that was your fault, not his; the
lad was keen to sign."
"That is true : and perhaps if we had pinned
him to this last night he would not liave dared
insult my sister to-day."
Sampson changed the subject by inquiring
suddenly which way he was gone.
"Curse him, I don't know; and don't care.
Go where he will, I shall meet him again some
day ; and then " Eidward spoke almost in a
whisper, but a certain grinding of his white teeth
and flashing of his lion eyes made the incom-
plete sentence very expressive.
"What ninnies you young men are," said the
Doctor, "even you, that I dub *my fathom o*
good sense :' just finish your denner, and come
with me."
"No, Doctor; Fm off my feed for once: if
you had been up stairs and seen my poor little
sister! hang the grub; it turns my stomach."
And he shoved his plate away, and leaned over
the back of his chair.
Sampson made him drink a glass of wine, and
then they got up from the half-finished meal and
went hurriedly to Alfred's lodgings, the Doctor,
though sixty, rushing along with all the fire and
buoyancy of early youth.
They found the landlady surrounded by gos-
sips curious as themselves, and longing to chat-
ter, but no materials. The one new fact they
elicited was that the vehicle was a White Lion
fly, for she knew the young man by the cast in
his eye. "Come away," shouted the Doctor,
unceremoniously, and in two minutes they were
in the yard of the White Lion.
Sampson called the hostler : out came a hard-
featured man with a strong squint. Sampson
concluded this was his man, and said, roughly :
"Where did you drive young Hardie this morn-
ing?"
He seemed rather taken aback by this abrupt
question; but reflected and slapped his thigh:
" Why that is the party from Mill Street." i
"Yes."
"Druv him to Silverton Station, Sir: and
wasn't long about it either ; gent was in a hur-
17."
"What train did he go by ?"
"Well, I don't know. Sir ; I left him at the
station."
" Well, then where did he take his ticket for?
Where did he tell the porter he was going?
Think now, and I'll give y' a sovereign."
The hostler scratched his head, and seemed at |
first inclined to guess for the sovereign, but at
last said : "I should only be robbing you, gents ;
ye see he paid the fly then and there, and gave
me a crown : and I druv away directly."
On this they gave him a shilling, and left
him. But on leaving the yard, Edward said :
*^ Doctor, I don't like that fellow's looks: let
us try the landlord." They went in to the bar
and made similar inquiries. The landlord was
I out, the mistress knew nothing about it, but took
a book out of a drawer and turned over the leaves.
She read out an entry to this effect :
" Pair horse fly to Silverton : take up in Mill
Street at eight o'clock. Is that it. Sir?" Samp-
son assented ; but Edward told her the hostler
said it was Silverton Station.
" No : it is Silverton in the book, Sir. Well,
you see it is all one to us ; the station is farther
than the town, but we charge seven miles which-
ever 'tis."
Bradshaw, inspected then and there, sought
in vain to conceal that four trains reached Sil-
verton from different points between 8.60 and
9.25 A.M.
The friends retired with this scanty informa-
tion ; Alfred could hardly have gone to London :
for there was a train up from Barkington itself
I at 8.80. But he might have gone to almost any
; other part of the island, or out of it for that
j matter. Sampson fell into a brown study.
After a long silence, which Edward was too
I sad to break, he said, thoughtfully: "Bring
j science to bear on this hotch-potch. Facks are
' never really opposed to facks ; they onnly seem
I to be : and the true solution is the one which
riconciles all the facks : fr* instance the chrono-
thairmal Therey riconciles all th' undisputed
facks in midicine. So now sairch for a solution
to riconcile the Deed with the puppy levanting."
Eklward searched, but could find none; and
said so.
" Can't you ?" said Sampson ; " then I'll give
you a couple. Say he is touched in the upper
story, for one."
"What do you mean ? mad ?"
" Oh : there are degrees of Phrinzy. Here is
th' inconsistency of conduct that marks a dis-
turbance of the reason : and, to tell the truth, I
once knew a young fellow that played this veiy
prank at a wedding, and, the nixt thing we hard,
my lorrd was in Bedlam."
Edward shook his head: "It is the villain's
heart, not his brain."
Sampson then offered another solution, in
which he owned he had more confidence :
" He has been courting sorte other wumman
first : she declined, or made believe ; but, when
she found he had the spirit to go and marry an
innocent girl, then the jade wrote to him and
yielded. It's a married one, likely. I've known
women go farther for hatred of a wumman than
they would for love of a man : and here was a
temptation! to snap a lover off th' altar, and
insult a rival, all at one blow. He meant to
marry ; he meant to sign that deed : ay and, at
his age, even if he had signed it, he would have
gone off at passion's call, and beggared himself.
What enrages me is that we didn't let him sign
it, and so nail the young rascal's money."
"Curse his money," said Edward, "and him
too. Wait till I can lay my hand on him ; I'll
break every bone in his skin."
"And I'll help you."
In the morning, Mrs. Dodd left Julia for a
few minutes expressly to ask Sampson's advice.
After Alfred's conduct she was free, and fully
determined to defend herself and family against
spoliation by any means in her power; so she
now showed the doctor David's letter about the
VERY HARD CASH.
147
14,000; and the empty pocket-book; and put
together the disjointed evidence of Julia, Alfred,
and circumstances, in one neat and luminous
statement : Sampson was greatly struck with the
revelation : he jumped off his chair and marched
about excited ; said truth was stranger than fic-
tion, and this was a manifest swindle : then he
surprised Mrs. Dodd in her turn by assuming
that old Hardie was at the bottom of yesterday s
business. Neither Edward nor his mother could
see that, and said so : his reply was character-
istic : ** Of course you can*t ; you are Anglo-
saxins ; th* Anglosaxins are good at drawing
distinctions ; but they can't gineralize. Tm a
Celt, and gineralize as -& duck swims. I dis-
covered th' unity of all disease : it would be odd
if I could not trace the maniform iniquities you
suffer to their one source."
**But what is the connecting link?" asked
llrs. Dodd, still incredulous.
"Why, Richard Bardie's interest."
"Well, but the letter?" objected Edward.
"There goes th' Anglosaxin again," remon-
strated Sampson : "puzzling his head over petty
details ; and they are perhaps mere blinds thrown
out by th' enemy. Put this and that together :
Hardie Senior always averse to this marriage ;
Hardie Senior wanting to keep 14,000 of yours :'
if his son, who knows of the fraud, became your
mother's son, the swindle would be hourly in
danger (no connexion ? y ' imhappy Anglosax-
ins ; why the two things are interwoven). And
80 young Hardie is got out of the way : old Bar-
die's doing, or I'm a Dutchman."
This reasoning still appeared forced and fan-
ciful to Edward ; but it began to make some
little impression on Mrs. Dodd, and encouraged
her to own that her poor daughter suspected foul
play.
"Well, that is possible too; whativer tempted
man has done, tempted man will do : but more
likely he has bribed Jezebel to write and catch
the goose by the heart. Gintlemen, I'm a bit of
a physiognomist : look at old Bardie's lines ; his
cordage I might say ; and deeyer every time I
Bee him ; man, I've an eye like a hawk. There's
. an awful weight on that man's mind. Looksee !
m just send a small trifle of a detective down
to watch his game, and pump his people : and,
as soon as it is safe, we'll seize the old bird, and,
once he is trapped, the young one will reappear
like magic : th' old one will disgorge ; we'll just
compound the felony been an old friend and
recover the cash."
A fine sketch ; but Edward thought it desper-
ately wild, and Mrs. Dodd preferred employing
a respectable attorney to try and obtain justice
in the regular way. Sampson laughed at her ;
what was the use of attacking in the regular way
an irregular genius like old Hardie? "Attor-
neys are too humdrum for such a job," said he ;
" they start with a civil letter putting a rogue
on his guard ; they proceed t* a writ, and then
he digs a hole in another county and buries the
bodty ; or sails t' Australia with it. N'list'me ;
I'm an old friend, and an insane lover of justice
^I say insane, because my passion is not return-
ed, or the jade wouldn't keep out of my way so
all these years ^You leave all this to me."
"Stop a minute," said Edward; "you must
not go compromising us : and we have got no
money to pay for luxuries, like detectives."
"I won't compromise any one of you: and
my detective sha'n't cost y' a penny."
"Ah, my dear friend," said Mrs. Dodd, "the
fact is you do. not know all the difficulties that
beset us. Tell him, Edward. Well then, let
me. The poor boy is attached to this gentle-
man's daughter, whom you propose to treat like
a felon : and he is too good a son and too good
a friend for me to what, what, shall I do ?"
Edward colored up to the eyes: "Who told
you that, mother?" said he. "Well, yes I do
love her, and I'm not ashamed of it. Doctor,"
said the poor fellow after a while, "I see now I
am not quite the person to advise my mother
in this matter. I consent to leave it in your
hands."
And, in pursuance of this resolution, he re-
tired to his study.
"There's a domnable combination," said
Sampson, dryly. "Truth is sairtainly more
wonderful than feckshin. Here's my fathom o*
good sense in love with a wax doll, and her
brother jilting his sister, and her father pillaging
his mother. It beats hotch-potch."
Mrs. Dodd denied the wax doll : but owned
Miss Hardie was open to vast objections: "An
estimable young lady ; but so odd ; she is one
of these uneasy -minded Christians that have
sprung up: a religious egotist, and malade
imaginaire, eternally feeling her own spiritual
pulse "
"I know the disorrder," cried Sampson, ea-
gerly: "the pashints have a hot fit (and then
they are saints) : followed in due course by the
cold fit (and then they are the worst of sinners) :
and so on in endless rotation : and, if they could
only realize my great discovery, the perriodicity
of all disease, and time their sintiments, they
would find the hot fit and the cold return chro-
nometrically, at intervals as rigler as the tides'
ebb and flow ; and the soul has nothing to do
with either febrile symptom. Why Religion,
apart from intermittent Fever of the Brain, is
just the caumest, peaceablest, sedatest thing in
all the world."
"Ah, you are too deep for me, my good
friend. AH I know is that she is one of this
new school, whom I take the liberty to call * The
FIDGETY Christians.* They can not let their
poor souls alone a minute ; and they pester one
day and night with the millennium ; as if we
shall not all be dead long before that : but the
worst is they apply the language of earthly pas-
sion to the Saviour of mankind, and make one's
flesh creep at their blasphemies ; so coarse,
so familiar; like that rude multitude which
thronged and pressed Him when on earth. But,
after all, she came to the church, and took my
Julia's part ; so that shows she has princijjle;
and do pray spare me her feelings in any step
you take against that dishonorable person her
father : I must go back to his victim, my poor,
poor child: I dare not leave her long. Oh,
Doctor, such a night ! and, if she dozes for a
minute, it is to wake with a scream and tell me
she sees him dead : sometimes he is drowned ;
sometimes stained with blood; but always dead."
This evening Mr. Hardie came along in a fly
with his luggage on the box, returning to Mus-
grove Cottage as from Yorkshire: in passing
Albion Villa he cast it a look of vindictive tri-
14d
VERY HARD CASH.
nmph. He got home and nodded by the fire in
his character of a man wearied by a long jour-
ney. Jane made him some tea, and told him
how Alfred had disappeared on his wedding-day.
"The young scamp," said he: he added,
coolly, "it is no business of mine; I had no
hand in making the match, thank Heaven!^
In the conversation that ensued he said he had
always been averse to the marriage ; but not so
irreconcilably as to approve this open breach of
feith with a respectable young lady : "this will
recoil upon our name, you know, at this critical
time," said he.
Then Jane mustered courage to confess that
she had gone to the wedding herself: "Dear
papa," said she, "it was made clear to me that
the Dodds are acting in what they consider a
most friendly way to you. They think I can
not tell you what they think. But, if mistaken,
they are sincere : and so, after prayer, and you
not being here for me to consult, I did go to
the church. Forgive me, papa : I have but one
brother ; and she is my dear friend."
Mr. Hardie's countenance fell at this announce-
ment, and he looked almost diabolical. But on
second thoughts he cleared up wonderfully : "I
will be frank with you, Jenny : if the wedding
had come off, I should have been deeply hurt at
your supporting that little monster of ingrati-
tude ; he not only marries against his father's
will (that is done every day) but slanders and
maligns him publicly in his hour of poverty and
distress. But, now that he has broken faith
and insulted Miss Dodd as well as me, I declare
I am glad you were there, Jenny. It will sep-
arate us from his abominable conduct. But
what does he say for himself? What reason
does he give ?"
"Oh, it is all mystery as yet."
"Well, but he must have sent some explana-
tion to the Dodds."
" He may have : I don't know. I have not
ventured to intrude on my poor insulted friend.
Papa, I hear her distress is fearful; they fear
for her reason. Oh, if harm comes to her, God
will assuredly punish him whose heartlessness
and treachery has brought her to it. Mark my
words," she continued with great emotion, " this
cruel act will not go unpunished even in this
world."
"There, there, change the subject," said Mr.
Hardie, peevishly. "What have I to do with
his pranks ? he has disowned me for his father,
and I disown him for my son."
The next day Peggy Black called, and asked
to see master. Old Betty, after the first sur-
prise, looked at her from head to foot, and foot
to head, as if measuring her for a suit of Dis-
dain ; and told her she might carry her own
message; then flounced into the kitchen, and
left her to shut the street door, which she did.
She went and dropped her courtesy at the par-
lor door, and in a miminy-piminy voice said she
was come to make her submission, and would
he forgive her, and give her another trial? Her
penitence, after one or two convulsive efforts,
ended in a very fair flow of tears.
Mr. Hardie shrugged his shoulders and asked
Jane if the girl had ever been saucy to her.
"Oh no, papa: indeed I have no fault to find
with poor Peggy."
" WeJJ, then, go to your work, and try and
not offend Betty ; remember she is older than
you."
I*eggy went for her box and bandbox, and
reinstated herself quietly, and all old Betty's
endeavors to irritate her only elicited a calm
cunning smile, with a depression of her downy
eyelashes.
Albion Villa,
Next morning Edward Dodd was woke out of
a sound sleep, at about four o'clock, by a hand
upon his shoulder : he looked up and rubbed his
eyes ; it was Julia standing by his bedside, dress-
ed and in her bonnet : " Edward," she said, in
a hurried whisper, " there is foul play : I can
not sleep, I can not be idle. He has been de-
coyed away, and perhaps murdered. Oh, pray,
get up and go to the police-office or somewhere
with me."
"Very well ; bat wait till morning."
"No; now; now; now; now. I shall nev-
er go out of doors in the daytime again. Wait?
I'm going crazy with wait, wait, wait, wait, wait-
ing."
Her hand was like fire on him, and her eyes
supematurally bright.
"There," said Edward, with a groan, "go
down stairs, and I will be with you directly."
He came down : they went out together : her
little burning hand pinched his tight, and her
swift foot seemed scarcely to touch the ground ;
she kept him at his full stride till they got to
the central police station. There, at the very
thought of facing men, the fiery innocent sud-
denly shrank together, and covered her blushing
face with her hot hands. She sent him in alone.
He found an intelligent superintendent, who en-
tered into the case with all the coolness of an old
official hand.
Edward came out to his sister and, as he har-
ried her home, told her what had passed : " The
superintendent asked to see the letter; I told him
he had taken it with him : that was a pity, he
said. Then he made me describe Alfred to a
nicety : and the description will go up to Lon-
don this morning, and all over Barkington, and
the neighborhood, and the county."
She stopped to kiss him, then went on again
with her head down, and neither spoke till they
were nearly home: then Edward told her "the
superintendent felt quite sure that the villain
was not dead ; nor in danger of it."
" Oh, bless him ! bless him ! for saying so."
"And that he will turn up in London before
very long ; not in this neighborhood ; he says he
must have known the writer of the letter, and '
his taking his luggage with him shows he has
gone off deliberately. My poor little Ju, now
do try and look at it as he does, and every body
else does ; try and see it as you would if you
were a by-stander."
She laid her soft hand on his shoulder as if to
support herself floating in her sea of doubt : " I
do see I am a poor credulous girl ; but how can
my Alfred be false to me ? Am I to doubt the
Bible ? am I to doubt the sun ? Is nothing true
in heaven or earth ? Oh, if I could only have
died as I was dressing for church died while he
seemed true ! He is true ; the wicked creature
has cast some spell on him : he has gone in a
moment of delirium ; he will regret what he has
done, perhaps regrets it now. I am ungratcfiir
to you, Edward, and to the good policeman, fof
VERY HARD CASH.
U9
saying he is not dead. What more do I re-
quire ? he is dead to me. Edward, let us leave
Uiis place. We were going: let us go to-day;
this very day ; oh, take me and hide me where
no one that knows me can ever see me again."
A flood of tears came to her relief: and she went
along sobbing and kissing her brother's hand
every now and then.
But, as they drew near the gate of Albion
Villa, twilight began to usher in the dawn. Ju-
lia shuddered at even that faint light, and fled
like a guilty thing, and hid herself sobbing in
her own bedroom.
Musgrove Cottage,
Mr. Richard Hardie slept better, since his re-
turn from Yorkshire, than he had done for some
time past, and therefore woke more refreshed
and in better spirits. He knew an honest fam-
ily was miserable a few doors off; but he did not
care. He got up and shaved with a mind at
ease. Only, when he had removed the lather
from one half his face, he happened to look out
of window, and saw on the wall opposite a
placard : a large placard to this effect :
"One Hundred Guineas RewabdI
Whereas on the 11th instant Mr. Alfred Hardie
disappeared mysteriously from his lodgings in 15
Mill Street under circumstances suggesting a sus-
picion of foul play, know all men that the above
reward will be paid to any person or persons
who shall first inform the undersigned where the
said Alfred Hardie is to be found, and what per-
son or persons, if any, have been concerned in
his disappearance.
Alexander Sampson
39 Pope Street
Napoleon Square
London."
At sight of this, Mr. Hardie was seized with
a tremor that suspended the razor in mid-air ;
he opened the window, and glared at the doctor's
notice.
At this moment he himself was a picture : not
unlike those half-cleaned portraits the picture-
restorers hang out as specimens of their art.
"Insotent interfering fool," he muttered, and
began to walk the room in agitation. After a
while he made a strong effort, shaved the other
half, and dressed slowly, thinking hard all the
time. The result was, he went out before break-
fast (which he had not done for years) and vis-
ited the "White Lion." One of Sampson's
posters had just beqn stuck up near the inn ;
be quietly pulled it down, and then entered the
yard and had a serious talk with the squinting
hostler.
On his return, Jane was waiting breakfast.
The first word to him was: "Papa, have you
seen ?
"WHat, the Reward?" said he, indifferently.
"Yes, I noticed it at our door as I came home."
Jane said it was a very improper and most
indelicate interference in their affairs. And
went on to say with heightened color: "I have
just told Peggy to take it down."
"Not for the world!" cried Mr. Hardie,
losing all 'his calmness real or feigned ; and he
rang the bell hastily. On Peggy's appearing,
he said, anxiously, "I do not wish that Notice
interfered with."
"I shouldn't think of touching it without your
orders, Sir," said she, quietly, and shot him a
feline glance from under her pale lashes.
Jane colored, and looked a little mortified:
but on Peggy's retiring Mr. Hardie explained
that, whether judicious or not, it was a friendly
act of Dr. Sampson's ; and to pull down his no-
tice would look like siding with the boy against
those he had injured : " Besides," said he, " why
should you and I burk inquiry ? Ill as he has
used me, I am his father, and not altogether
without anxiety. Suppose those doctore should
be right about him, you know?"
Jane had for some time been longing to call at
Albion Villa and sympathize with her friend ;
and now curiosity was superadded ; she burned
to know whether the Dodds knew of, or ap-
proved this placard. She asked her father
whether he thought she could go there with pro-
priety. "Why not?" said he, cheerfully, and
with assumed carelessness.
In reality it was essential to him that Jane
should visit the Dodds. Surrounded by pitfalls,
threatened with a new and mysterious assailant
in the eccentric, but keen and resolute Samp-
son, this artfrd man, who had now become a
very Machiavel constant danger and deceit
had so sharpened and deepened his great natu-
ral abilities was preparing among other de-
fenses a shield; and that shield was a sieve;
and that sieve was his daughter. In fact, ever
since his return, he had acted and spoken at the
Dodds through Jane, but with a masterly ap
pearance of simplicity and mere confidential in-
tercourse. At least I think this is the true clew
to all his recent remarks.
Jane, a truthful, unsuspicious girl, was all the
fitter instrument of the cunning monster. She
went ^ and called at Albion Villa, and was re^
ceived by Edward, Mrs. Dodd being up stairs
with Julia, and in five minutes she had told him
what her father, she owned, had said to her in
confidence. "But," said she, " the reason I re-
peat these things is to make peace, and that yon
may not fancy there is any one in our house so
cruel, flo unchristian, as to approve Alfred's per-
fidy. Oh, and papa said candidly he disliked
the match, but then he disliked this way of end-
ing it far more.",
Mrs. Dodd came down in due course, and
kissed her; but told her Julia could not see
even her at present. " I think, dear," said she,
"in a day or two she will see you; but no one
else : and for her sake we shall now hurry our
departure from this place, where she was once
so happy."
Mrs. Dodd did not like to begin about Alfred ;
but Jane had no such scruples : she inveighed
warmly against his conduct, and, ere she left
the house, had quite done away with the faint
suspicion Sampson had engendered, and brought
both Mrs. Dodd and Edward back to their orig-
inal opinion, that the elder Hardie had no-
thing on earth to do with the perfidy of the
younger.
Just before dinner a gentleman called on Ed-
ward, and proved to be a policeman in plain
clothes. He had been sent from the office to
sound the hostler at the " White Lion," and, if
necessary, to threaten him. The police knew
though nobody else in Barkington did, that this
hostler had been in what rogues Cfdl trouble
twice, and, as the police can starve a man of the
150
VERY HARD CASH.
kind by blowing on him, and can reward him by
keeping dark, he knows better than withhold in-
formation from them.
However, on looking for this hostler, he had
left his place that very morning ; had decamped
with mysterious suddenness.
Here was a puzzle.
Had the man gone without noticing the re-
ward ? Had somebody outbid the reward ? or
was it a strange coincidence, and did he after all
know nothing ?
The police thought it was no coincidence, and
ho did know something ; so they had telegraphed
the London office to mark him down.
Edward thanked his visitor ; but, on his re-
tiring, told his mother he could make neither
head nor tail of it; and she only said, "We
seem surrounded by mystery.**
Meantime, unknown to these bewildered ones,
Greek was meeting Greek only a few yards off.
Mr. Hardic was being undermined by a man
of his own calibre, one too cautious to commu-
nicate with the Dodds, or any one else, till his
work looked ripe.
The game began thus: a decent mechanic,
who lodged hard by, lounging with his pipe near
the gate of Musgrove Cottage, offered to con-
verse with old Betty : she gave him a rough an-
swer ; but with a touch of ineradicable vanity
must ask Peggy if she wanted a sweet-heart, be-
cause there was a hungry one at the gate:
"Why he wanted to begin on an old woman
like mo." Peggy inquired what he had said to
her.
" Oh, he begun where most of them ends, if
they get so far at all : axed me was I comforta-
ble here ; if not, he knew a young man wanted
a nice tidy body to keep house for him.'*
Peggy pricked up her ears, and in less than
a quarter of an hour went for a box of lucifers
in a new bonnet and clean collar. She tripped
past the able mechanic very accidentally, and he
bestowed an admiring smile on her, but said no-
thing, only smoked. However, on her return,
he contrived to detain her, and paid her a good
many compliments, which she took laughingly
and with no great appearance of believing them.
However, there is no going by that: compli-
ments sink: and within forty-eight hours the
able mechanic had become a hot wooer of Peggy
Black, always on the look-out for her day and
night, and telling her all about the lump of mon-
ey he had saved, and how he could double his
income, if he had but a counter, and tidy wife
behind it. Peggy gossiped in turn, and let out
among the rest that she had been turned off
once, just for answering a little sharply; and
now it was the other way : her master was a tri-
fle too civil at times.
** Who could help it?*' said the able mechan-
ic, rapturously ; and offered a pressing civility ;
which Peggy fought off.
" Not so free, young man,'* said she. " Kiss-
ing is the prologue to sin."
" How do you know that?" inquired the able
mechanic, with the sly humor of his class.
"It is a saying," replied Peggy, demurely.
At last, one night, Mr. Green, the Detective,
for he it was, put his arm round his new sweet-
heart's waist, and approached the subject near-
est his heart. He told her he had just found
oat there waa money enough to be made in one
day to set them up for life in a nice little shop;
and she could help in it.
After this inviting preamble he crept toward
the 14,000 by artful questions ; and soon elicit-
ed that there had been high words between Mas-
ter and Mr. Alfred about that very sum; she
.had listened at the door and heard. Taking
care to combine close courtship with cunning
interrogatories, he was soon enabled to write to
Dr. Sampson, and say that a servant of Mr.
Hardie's was down on him, and reported that
he carried a large pocket-book in his breast-
pocket by day ; and she had found the dent of it
under his pillow at night ; a stroke of observa-
tion very creditable in an unprofessional female :
on this he had made it his business to meet Mr.
Hardie in broad day, and sure enough the pock-
et-book was always there. He added that the
said Hardie's face wore an expression, which he
had seen more than once when respectable par-
tics went in for felony : and altogether thought
they might now take out a warrant and proc^
in the regular way.
Sampson received this news with great satis-
faction : but was crippled by the interwoven re-
lations of the parties.
To arrest Mr. Hardie on a warrant would en-
tail fi prosecution for felony, and separate Jane
and Edward forever.
He telegraphed Green to meet him at the sta-
tion ; and reached Barkington at eight that very
evening. Green and he proceeded to Albion
Villa, and there they held a long and earnest
consultation with Edward; and at last, on cer-
tain conditions, Mr. Green and Edward consent-
ed to act on Sampson's plan. Green by this
time knew all Mr. Hardie's out-of-door habits ;
and assured them that at ten o'clock he would
walk up and down the road for at least half an
hour, the night being dry. It wanted about a
quarter to ten when Mrs. Dodd came down and
proposed supper to the travelers. Sampson de-
clined it for the present ; and said they had work
to do at eleven. Then, making the others a
signal not to disclose any thing at present, he
drew her aside and asked after Julia.
Mrs. Dodd sighed: "She goes from one
thing to another, but always returns to one idea
that he is a victim, not a traitor,'*
"Well, tell her in one hour the money shall
be in the house."
" The money ! What does she care?**
" Well, say we shall know all about Alfred by
eleven o'clock."
"My dear friend, be prudent," said Mrs.
Dodd. "I feel alarmed; you were speaking
almost in a whisper when I came in."
"Y* are very obsairvant: but doant be un-
easy ; we are tnree to one. Just go and com-
fort Miss Julee with my message."
"Ah, that I wiU,*' she said.
She was no sooner gone than they all stole
out into the night, and a pitch-dark night it
was ; but Green had a powerful dark lantern to
use if necessary.
They waited. Green at the gate of Mnsgrove
Cottage, the other two a little way op the road.
Ten o'clock struck. Some minates passed
without the expected signal from Green; and
Edward and Sampson began to shiver. For it
was very cold and dark, and in the next place
they were honest men going to take the law into
VERY HARD CASH.
151
their own hands, and the law sometimes calls
that breaking the law. * * Confonnd him I" mut-
tered Sampson: '*if he does not soon come I
shall run away. It is bitterly cold."
Presently footsteps were heard approaching,
but no signal : it proved to be only a fellow in a
smock-frock rolling home from the public house.
Just as his footsteps died away a low hoot like
a plaintive owl was heard, and they knew their
game was afoot.
Presently, tramp, tramp, came the slow and
stately march of him they had hunted down.
He came very slowly, like one lost in medita-
tion ; and these amateur policemen's hearts beat
louder and louder as he drew nearer and nearer.
At last in the blackness of the night a shad-
owy outline was visible : another tramp or two,
it was upon them.
Now the cautious Mr. Green had stipulated
that the pocket-book should first be felt for, and
if not there the matter should go no farther.
So Edward made a stumble and fell against Mr.
Hardie and felt his left breast : the pocket-book
was there. ** Yes," he whispered : and Mr. Har-
die, in the act of remonstrating at his clumsi-
ness, was pinned behind, and his arms strapped
with wonderful rapidity and dexterity. Tlien
first he seemed to awake to his danger, and ut-
teredA stentorian cry of terror that rang through
the night and made two of his three captors
tremble.
"Cut that,** said Green, sternly, "or you'll
get into trouble."
Mr. Hardie lowered his voice directly. "Do
not kill me, do not hurt me,'* he murmured ;
"I'm but a poor man now. Take my little
money ; it is in my waistcoat pocket ; but spare
my life. You see I don't resist."
"Come, stash your gab, mv lad,'* said Green,
contemptuously, addressing him just as he would
any other of the birds he was accustomed to cap-
ture. "It's not your stiff that is wanted, but
Captain Dodd's."
"Captain Dodd's?*' cried the prisoner, with
a wonderful assumption of innocence.
"Ay, the pocket-book," said Green: "here,
this I this !'* Ho tapped on the pocket-book, and
instantly the prisoner uttered a cry of agony, and
sprang into the road with an agility no one would
have thought possible ; but iSlward and Green
soon caught him, and, the Doctor joining, they
held him, and Green tore his coat open.
^ The pocket-book was not there. He tore open
his waistcoat ; it was not in the waistcoat : but
it was sewed tightly to his very shirt on the out-
side. Green wrenched it away, and bidding the
other two go behind the prisoner and look over
his shoulder, unseen themselves, slipped the
shade of his lantern.
Mr. Hardie had now ceased to struggle and
to exclaim; he stood sullen, mute, desperate;
while an agitated face peered eagerly over each
of his shoulders at the open pocket-book in
Green's hands, on which the lantern now poured
a narrow but vivid stream of light.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
Thbre was not a moment to lose, so Green
emptied the pocket-book into his hat, and sifted
the contents in a turn of the hand, announcing
each discovery in a whisper to his excited and
peering associates :
"A lot of receipts."
"Of no use to any one but me," said the
prisoner, earnestly.
"Two miniatures; gold rims, pinchbeck
"backs."
"They are portraits of my children when
young: Heaven forgive me, I could not give
them up to my creditors: surely, surely, you
will not rob me of them."
"Stash your gab," said Mr. Green, roughly.
"Here's a guinea, Queen Anne's reign."
*' It belonged to my great-grandfather : take
it, but you will let me redeem it ; I will give 6
for it, poor as I am : you can leave it on my
door-step, and I'll leave the 5.**
"Stow your gab. Letters; papers covered
with figures. Stay, what is this ? a lot of mem-
oranda."
" They are of the most private and delicate
character. Pray do not expose my family mis-
fortunes.** And Mr. Hardie, who of late had
been gathering composure, showed some signs
of agitation ; the two figures glaring over his
shoulder shared it, and his remonstrance only
made Green examine the papers keenly : they
might contain some clew to the missing money.
It proved a miscellaneous record : the price of
Stocks at various days; notes of the ofiicial
assignee's remarks in going over the books, etc.
At last, however, Green's quick eye fell upon a
fainter entry in pencil ; figures : 1, 4 ; yes, act-
ually 14,000. "AH right," he said : and took
the paper close to the lantern, and began to spell
it out :
" * This day Alfred told me to my face I had
14,000 of Captain Dodd's. We had an angry
discussion. What can he mean ? Drs. Wycher-
ley and Osmond, this same day, afflicted me with
hints that he is deranged, or partly. I saw no
signs of it before. Wrote to my brother entreat-
ing him to give me 200 to replace the sum
which I really have wronged this respectable and
now most afflicted family of. I had better with-
draw *" Here Mr. Hardie interrupted him
with sorrowful dignity: "These are mere fami-
ily matters; if you are a man, respect them."
Green went reading on like Fate : "'Better
withdraw my opposition to the marriage, or else
it seems my own flesh and blood will go about
the place blackening my reputation."*
Mr. Hardie stamped on the ground. " I tell
you on my honor as a gentleman there is no
money there but my grandfather's guinea. My
money is all in my waistcoat pocket, where yon
will not look."
A flutter of uneasiness seemed to come over
the detective : he darkened his lantern, and re-
placed the pocket-book hurriedly in the prison-
er's breast, felt him all over in a minute, and, to
keep up the farce, robbed him.
" Only eight yellow boys," said he, contempt-
uously, to his mates. He then slipped the mon-
ey back into Hardie's coat-pocket, and con-
ducted him to his own gate, tied him to it by the
waist, and ordered him not to give the alarm for
ten minutes on pain of death.
"I consent," said Mr. Hardie, "and thank
you for abstaining from violence."
"All right, my tulip," said Mr. Green, cheer-
162
VEBY HABD CASH.
folly ; and drew his companions qnietly away.
But the next moment he began to ran, and,
making a sudden torn, dived into a street, then
into a passage, and so winded and doubled till
he got to a small public house : he used some
flash word, and they were shown a private room.
" Wait here an hour for me," he whispered ; " I
must see who liberates him, and whether he is
really as innocent as he reads, or we have been
countermined by the Devil's own tutor."
The unexpected turn the evidence had taken,
evidence of their own choosing too, cleared Mr.
Hardie with the unprofessionals. Edward em-
braced this conclusion as a matter of course,
and urged the character of that gentleman's sol-
itary traducer ; Alfred was a traitor, and there-
fore why not a slanderer ?
Even Sampson, on the whole, inclined to a
similar conclusion.
At this crisis of the discussion a red-haired
peddler, with very large whiskers and the remains
of a black eye, put his head in and asked wheth-
er Tom Green was there. " No," said the Doc-
tor, stoutly, not desiring company of this stamp.
"Don't know the lad."
The peddler laughed : * * There is not many that
do know him at all hours ; however, he is here,
Sir." And he whipped off the red hair, and
wiped off the black eye, and lo ! Green ipse. He
received their compliments on his Protean pow^
ers, and told them he had been just a minute
too late ; Mr. Hardie was gone, and so he had
lost the chance of seeing who came to help
him, and of hearing the first words that passed
between the two : this, he said, was a very great
pity ; for it would have shown him in one mo-
ment whether certain suspicions of his were cor-
rect. Pressed as to what those suspicions were,
he begged to be excused saying any more for the
present. The doctor, however, would not let him
off so, but insisted on his candid opinion.
"Well, Sir," said Green, "I never was more
puzzled in my life, owing to not being near hand
when he was untied. It looks all square, how-
ever. There's only one little thing that don't fit
somehow."
They both asked in a breath what that was.
** The sovs. were all marked."
They asked how he knew; and had he got
them in his pocket to show ?
Green uttered a low chuckling laugh : * * What
me fake the beans, now I live on this side the
hedge ? never knew a cove mix his liquors that
way but it hurt his health soon or late. No, I
took them out of one pocket, and felt of them as
I slipped them into the other. Ye see, gents,
to do any good on my lay, a man must train
his senses as well as his mind : he must have a
hare's ear and a hawk's eye, a blood-hound's
nose, and a lady's hand with steel fingers and a
silk skin. Now look at that bunch of fives,"
continued the master ; and laid a hand white and
soft OS a duchess's on the table: "it can put
the bracelets on a giant, or find a sharper's nail-
mark on the back of the knave of clubs. The
beans were marked. Which it is a small thing,
but it don't fit the rest. Here's an unsuspicious
gent took by surprise, in moonlight meditation
fancy free, and all his little private family mat-
ters found in his innocent bosom quite promis-
cuous ; but his beans marked : that don't dove-
toil nohow. Gents, did ever you hear of the
man that went to the bottom of the bottomless
pit to ease his mind ? Well he was the head of
my family: I must go to the bottom whether
there's one or not. And just now I see bnt one
way."
"And what is that?" inquired both his com-
panions in some alarm.
" Oh, I mustn't threaten it," said Green, "or
I shall never have the stomach to do it. But
dear me, this boozing ken is a very unfit place
for you ^you are Champagne-gents, not dog's
nose ones. Now you part and make tracks for
home, one on foot, and one in a fiy. Ton won't
see me, nor hear of me again, till Pve some-
thing fresh."
And so the confederates parted, and Sampson
and Edward met at Albion Villa; and Edwud
told his mother what they had done, and his con-
viction that Mr. Hardie was innocent, and Alfred
a slanderer as well as a traitor : " Ajid indeed,"
said he, "if we had but stopped to reflect, we
should have seen how nnlikely the money was
not to be lost in the Agra. Why the *7%9er
says she went to pieces almost directly she
struck. What we ought to have done was, not
to listen to Alfred Hardie like fools, but write
to Lloyd's like people in their senses. Til do it
this minute, and find out the surviving ofSccn
of the ship : they will be able to give us infor-
mation on that head.'* Mrs. Dodd approved,
and said she would write to her kind correspond-
ent Mrs. Beresford; and she did sit down to
her desk at once. As for Sampson he returned
to town next morning, not quite convinced, but
thoroughlv staggered ; and determined for once
to resign his own judgment, and abide the result
of Mrs. Dodd's correspondence and Mr. Green's
sagacity. All he insisted on was that his pla-
card about Alfred should be continued : he left
money for this, and Edward against the grain
consented to see it done. But placards are no
monopoly: in the afternoon only a section of
Sampson's was visible in most parts of the town
by reason of a poster to this effect pasted half
over it :
"FnTT GnnvBAs Bewabd.
"Whereas yesterday evening at 10 o*clock Rich^
ard Hardie Esq., of Musgrove Cottage, Barking-
ton, was assaulted at his own door by three nJ-
fians, who rifled his pockets, and read his private
memoranda, and committed other acts of vio-
lence, the shock of which has laid him on a bed
of sickness, the above reward shall be paid to any
person or persons who will give such informa-
tion as shall lead to the detection of all or any
one of the miscreants concerned in this outrage.
The above reward will be paid by Mr. Thomas
Hardie of Clare Court Yorkshire."
On this the impartial police came to Mr.
Hardie's and made inquiries. He received them
in bed, and told them particulars: and they
gathered from Peggy that she had heard a ciy
of distress, and opened the kitchen door ; and
that Betty and she had ventured out together,
and found poor master tied to the gate with an
old cord ; this she produced, and the police in-
spected and took it away with them.
At sight of the Notice, Edward felt cold and
then hot, and realized the false and perilons po-
sition into which he had been betrayed: "So
much for being wiser than the biw, he said:
VERY HARD CASH.
" what are we now bat three foot-pads ?'* This,
and the insult his sister had received^ made the
place poison to him ; and hastened their depart-
ure by a day or two : the very next day (Thurs-
day) an affiche on the walls of Albion Villa
announced that Mr. Chippenham, auctioneer,
would sell next Wednesday on the premises the
greater part of the furniture, plate, china, glass,
Oriental inlaid boxes and screens, with several
superb India shawls, scarfs, and dresses ; also a
twenty-one years' lease of the villa; seventeen
to run.
Edward took unfurnished apartments in Lon-
don, near Russell Square : a locality in which,
as he learned from the ^Tiser^ the rooms were
large and cheap ; he packed just so much furni-
ture as was essential ; no nick-nacks. It was
to go by rail on Monday ; Mrs. Dodd and Julia
were to follow on Tuesday : Edward to stay at
Barkington and look after the sale.
Meantime their secret ally, Mr. Green, was
preparing his threatened coup. The more he
reflected the more he suspected that he had been
outwitted by Peggy Black ; she had led him on,
and the pocket-book had been planted for him.
If so, why Peggy was a genius, and in his own
line ; and he would marry her, and so kill two
birds with one stone : make a Detective of her
(there was a sad lack of female Detectives);
and, once his wife, she would split on her mas-
ter, and he should defeat that old soldier at last,
and get a handsome slice of the 14,000.
He manoeuvred thus : first, he went back to
London for a day or two to do other jobs, and
to let this matter cool : then he returned, and
wrote from a town near Barkington to Peg^
Black, telling her he had been sent away sud-
denly on a job, but his heart had remained be-
hind with his Peggy: would she meet him at
the gate at nine that evening ? He had some-
thing very particular to say to her. As to the
nature of the business the inclosed would give
her a hint. She might name her own day, and
the sooner the better.
The inclosed was a wedding-ring.
At nine this extraordinary pair of lovers met
at the gate; but Peggy seemed hardly at her
ease ; said her master would be coming out and
catching her ; perhaps they had better walk up
the road a bit. * * With all my heart, " said Green ;
but he could not help a little sneer: "Your
master?" said he : " why, he is your servant, as
I am. What, is he jealous ?"
**I don't know what you mean, young man,''
said Peggy.
"I'll tell you when we are married."
"La, that is a long time to wait for my an-
swer: why, we ain't asked in church yet."
" There's no need of that ; I can afford a spe-
cial license."
" Lawk-a-daisy : why, yon be a gentleman,
then."
"No, but I can keep my wife like a lady."
" You sounds very tempting," murmured Peg-
gy, throwing her skirt over her head for a
drizzle was beginning and walking slower and
slower.
Then he made hot love to her, and pressed
her hard to name the day.
She coquetted with the question till they came
near the month of a dark lane, called lovers'
walk; then, as he insisted on an answer^ she
hung her head bashfully and coughed a little
cough. At) which preconcerted signal a huge
policeman sprang out of the lane and collared
Mr. Green.
On this Peggy, who was all Lie from nead to
heel, uttered a little scream of dismay and sur-
prise.
Mr. Green laughed. '
" Well, you are a downy one," said he. " Til
marry you all the more for this."
The Detective put his hands suddenly inside
the policeman's, caught him by the bosom with
his right hand by way of fulcrum ; and with liis
left by the chin, which he forced violently back,
and gave him a slight Cornish trip at the same
moment ; down went the policeman on the back
of his head a fearful crack : Green then caught
the astonished Peggy round the neck, kissed her
lips violently, and fled like the wind ; removed
all traces of his personal identity, and up to Lon-
don by the train in the character of a young
swell, with a self-fitting eye-glass and a long
mustache the color of his tender mistress's eye-
brow: tow.
From town he wrote to her, made her a form-
al offer of marriage ; and gave her an address to
write to "should she at any time think more
kindly of him and of his sincere affection."
I suppose he specified sincare because it was
no longer sincere : lie hurled the offer into Mus-
grove Cottage by way of an apple of discord ; at
least so I infer from the memorandum, with
which he retired at present from the cash-hunt.
" Mr. Ilardio has the stiff, I think : but, if so,
it is planted somewhere; doesn't carry it about
him ; my Peggy is his mistress : nothing to be
done till they split."
Victorious so far, Mr. Hardie had still one
pressing anxiety ; Dr. Sampson's placard : this
had been renewed, and stared him every where
in the face. Every copy of it he encountered
made him shiver : if he had been a man of im-
pulse, he would have torn it down wherever he
saw it: but he knew that would not do. How.
ever, learning from Jane, who had it from old
Betty, who had it from Sarah, that Mrs. and
Miss Dodd would leave for London the day be-
fore the sale, and Edward the day after it, he
thought he might venture in the busy interme-
diate time to take some liberties with it. This
he did with excellent tact and judgment ; Peggy
and a bill-sticker were seen in conference, an(j,
soon after, the huge bills of a traveling circus
were pasted right over both the rival advertise-
ments in which the name of Hardie figured.
The consequence was, Edward raised no objec-
tion ; he was full of the sale for one thing ; but
I suspect he was content to see his own false
move pasted over oa such easy terms.
On the Monday morning Peggy brought in
the letters, and Jane saw one in Alfred's hand-
writing. She snatched it up, and cried, " Papa,
from Alfred !" and she left off making the tea,
while her father opened it with comparative
composure.
This coolness, however, did not outlast the
perusal : " The young ruffian ! " said he : " would
yon believe it, Jenny, he accuses me of being
the canse of his last business.**
"Let me see, papa.*'
He held her oat the letter, bat heutated and
154
VERT HARD CASH.
drew it back : " My dear, it would give you pain
to see your poor father treated so. Here's a
specimen: *What could they expect but that
the son of a sharper would prove a traitor ? You
stole her money ; I her affections, of which I am
unworthy.' Now what do you think of that?"
** Unhappy Alfred !" said Jane : " No, papa,
I would not read it, if you are insulted in it.
But where is he ?"
"The letter is dated Paris. See!" And he
showed her the date: **but he says here, he is
coming back to London directly ; and he orders
me in the most peremptory way to be ready with
my accounts, and pay him over his fortune.
Well, he is alive at all events : really my good,
kind, interfering, pragmatical friend Sampson
with his placards made me feel uneasy, more
uneasy than I would own to you, Jenny."
" Unhappy Alfred !'* cried Jane, with the tears
in her eyes ; " and poor papa ! "
"Oh never mind mc," said Mr. Hardie;
"now that I know no harm has come to him, I
really don't care a straw : I have got one child
that loves me, and that I love."
"Ah yes dear, dear papa, and that will always
love you, and never, never, disobey you in small
things or great." She rose from table and sealed
this with a pious kiss ; and, when she sat down
with a pink flush on her delicate cheek, his hard
eye melted and dwelt on her with beaming ten-
derness. His heart yearned over her, and a
pang went through it : to think that he must de-
ceive even her, the one sweet soul that loved
him!
It was a passing remorse : the successful plot-
ter soon predominated, and it was with unmixed
satisfaction he saw her put on her bonnet directly
after breakfast, and hurry off to Albion Villa to
play the part of his unconscious sieve.
He himself strolled in the opposite direction
not to seem to be watching her.
He was in good spirits; felt like a general,
who, after repulsing many desperate attacks suc-
cessfully, orders an advance, and sees the tide of
battle roll away from his bayonets. His very
body seemed elastic, indomitable; ho walked
lustily out into the country, sniffed the perfumed
hedges, and relished life. To be sure he could
not walk away from all traces of his misdeeds ;
he fell in with objects that to an ordinary sinner
might have spoiled the walk, and even marred
the spring-time ; he found his creditor Maxley,
with grizzly beard and bloodshot eyes, belabor-
ing a mile-stone ; and two small boys quizzing
him and pelting him with mud : and soon after
he met his creditor, old Dr. Phillips, in a cart
coming back to Barkington to end his days there
in an (dms-house. But to our triumphant Bank-
rupt and Machiavel these things were literally
nothing ; he paced complacently on, and cared
no more for either of those his wrecks than the
smiling sea itself seems to care for the dead ships
and men it washed ashore a week ago.
He came home before luncheon for his gossip
with Jane ; but she had not returned. All the
better ; her budget would be larger.
To while the time he got his file of the Timesy
and amused himself noting down the fluctuations
in Peruvian bonds.
While thus employed he heard a loud knock
'% his door, and soon after Peggy's voice and a
mo's in swift collision. Hasty feet came along
the passage, the parlor door opened, and a young
man rushed in pale as ashes, and stared at him ;
he was breathless, and his lips moved, but no
sound came.
It was Edward Dodd.
Mr. Hardie rose like a tower, and manned
himself to repulse this fresh assault.
The strange visitor gasped out, "You are
wanted at our house !"
CHAPTER XXXV.
Jane Hardie found Albion Villa in the miser-
able state that ])recedes an auction ; the house
raw, its contents higgledy-piggledy. The stair
carpets and drawing-room carpets were up, and
in rolls in the dining-room ; the bulk of the fur-
niture was there too ; the auction was to be in
that room. The hall was clogged with great
packages, and littered with small, all awaiting
the railway carts ; and Edward, dusty and deli-
quescent, was cording, strapping, and nailing
them at the gallop, in his shirt sleeves.
Jane's heart sank at the visible signs of his
departure. She sighed; and then, partly to
divert his attention, told him hastily there was
a letter from Alfred. On this he ran up stairs
and told Mrs. Dodd, and she came down stairs
and took Jane up softly to her friend's room.
They opened the door gently, and Jane saw
the grief she was conoe to console; or to em-
bitter.
Such a change ! instead of the bright, elastic,
impetuous, young beauty, there sat a pale, lan-
guid girl with "weary of the world" written on
every part of her eloquent body ; her right hand
dangled by her side, and on the ground beneath
it lay a piece of work she had been attempting ;
but it had escaped from those listless fingers:
her left arm was stretched at full length on the
table with an unspeakable abandon, and her
, brow laid wearily on it above the elbow* So
lies the wounded bird, so droops the broken lily.
I She did not move for Jane's light foot. She
often sat thus, a drooping statue, and let people
' come and go unheeded.
I Jane's heart yearned for her. She came sofit-
I ly and laid a little hand lightly on her shoulder,
I and true to her creed that we must look upward
i for consolation, said in her ear, and in solemn,
silvery tones, " Our light afiliction, which is but
for a moment, worketh for us a far more exceed-
I ing and eternal weight of glory."
! Julia turned at this and flung her arms ronnd
Jane's neck, and panted heavily.
! Jane kissed her, and, with the tears in her
eyes, proceeded to pour out, from a memory
I richly stored with Scripture, those blessed words
it is full of, words that in our hours of ease or
biblical criticism pass over the mind like some
drowsy chime ; but in the bitter day of anguish
and bereavement, when the body is racked, the
soul darkened, shine out like stars to the mar-
j iner ; seem then first to swell to their real size
and meaning, and come to writhing mortals
like pitying seraphim, divinity on their faces
and healing on their wings.
Julia sighed heavily : " Ah," she said, "theM
are sweet words. But I am not ripe for them.
You show me the true path of happiness : but I
VEBY HARD CASH.
155
don't want to be happy; it's him I want to be
happy. If the angels came for me and took
me to heaven this moment, I should be misera-
ble there if I thought he was in eternal tor-
ment ; ay, I should be as miserable there as I
am here. Oh Jane, when God means to com-
fort me, He will show me he is alive ; till then
words are wasted on me, even Bible words."
"Tell her your news, my dear," said Mrs.
Dodd, quietly. She was one of those who take
human nature as it is, and make the best of it.
"Julia, dear," said Jane, "your fears are ex-
travagant, indeed : Alfred is alive, we know."
Julia trembled, but said nothing.
" He has written to-day.''
"Ah! To you?"
"No, to papa.'*
" I don't believe it. Why to him ?"
"But I saw the letter, dear ; I had it in my
hand."
"Did you read it?" asked Julia, trembling
now like an aspen, and fluttering like a bird.
"No, but I read the address and the date in-
side, and I saw the handwriting ; and I was of-
fered the letter, but papa told me it was full of
abuse of him, so I declined* to read it ; how-
ever, I will get it for you."
Mrs. Dodd thanked her warmly ; but asked
her if she could not in the mean time give some
idea of the contents.
"Oh yes, Mrs. Dodd: papa read me out a
great deal of it. He was in Paris, but just
starting for London : and he demanded his
money and his accounts. Yon know papa is
one of his trustees."
"Well, but," said Mrs. Dodd, "was there
nothing nothing about ?"
"Oh yes there was," said Jane, "only I
well then for dear Julia's sake the letter said,
'What wonder the son of a sharper should
prove a traitor ? Ym have stolen her money,
and /her affections, and' oh, I can't, I can't."
And Jane Hardie began to cry.
J^rs. Dodd embraced her like a mother, and
entered into her filial feelings: Mrs. Dodd had
never seen her so weak, and therefore never
thought her so amiable. Thus occupied they
did not at first observe how these tidings were
changing Julia.
But presently looking up, they saw her stand-
ing at her full height, on fire with wrath and
insulted pride.
"Ah, you have brought me comfort," she
cried. "Mamma, I shall hate and scorn this
man some day, as much as I hate and scorn
myself now for every tear I have shed for him."
They tried to calm her, but in vain ; a new
gust of passion possessed the ardent young creat-
ure, and would have vent. She reddened from
bosom to brow, and the scalding tears ran down
her flaming cheeks, and she repeated between
her clenched teeth, "My veins are not filled
with skim-milk, I can tell you : you have seen
how I can love, you shall see how I can hate."
And with this she went haughtily out of the
room, not to expose the passion which overpow-
ered her.
Mrs. Dodd took advantage of her absence to
thank Jane for her kindness, and told her she
* This WM one of those involnntary inaocuztdes which
creep into mortal statements.
had also received some letters by this morning's
post, and thought it would be neither kind on
her part nor just to conceal their purport from
her. She then read her a letter from Mrs.
Beresford, and another from Mr. Grey, in an-
swer to queries about the 14,000.
Sharpe, I may as well observe, was at sea;
Bayliss drowned.
Mrs. Beresford knew nothing about the mat-
ter.
Mr. Gray was positive Captain Dodd, when in
command, had several thousand pounds in his
cabin : Mrs. Beresford's Indian servant had been
detected trying to steal it, and put in irons ; be-
lieved the lady had not been told the cause out
of delicacy : and Captain Roberts had liberated
him. As to whether the money had escaped the
wreck if on Captain Dodd's person it might
have been saved; but if not, it was certainly
lost: for Captain Dodd to his knowledge had
run on deck from the passenger's cabin the mo-
ment the ship struck, and had remained there
till she went to pieces; and every thing was
washed out of her.
" Our own opinion," said Mrs. Dodd, "I mean
l^ward's and mine, is now, that the money was
lost in the ship ; and you can tell your papa ko,
if you like."
Jane thanked her, and said she thought so
too ; and what a sad thing it was.
Soon after this Julia returned, pale and calm
as a statue, and sat down humbly beside Jane :
"Oh, pray vith me," she said: "pray that I
may not hate, for to hate is to be wicked ; and
pray that 1 may not love, for to love is to be
miserable."
Mrs. Dodd retired, with her usual tact .and
self-denial.
Then Jane Hardie, being alone with her
friend, and full of sorrow, svmpathy, and faith,
found words of eloquence almost divine to raise
her.
With these pious consolations Julia's pride
and self-respect now co-operated; relieved of
her great terror, she felt her insult to her fin-
gers' ends : " I'll never degrade myself so far as
to pine for another lady's lover, " she said. " I'll
resume my duties in another sphere, an4 try to
face the world by degrees. I am not quite
alone in it: I have my mother still and my
Redeemer."
Some tears forced their way at these brave,
gentle words. Jane gave her time.
Then she said : " Begin by putting on your
bonnet, and visiting with me. Come with one
who is herself thwarted in the carnal affections ;
come with her and see how sick some are, and
we two in health ; how racked with pain some
are, and we two at ease ; how hungry some, and
we have abundance; and, above all, in what
spiritual deserts some lie, while we walk in the
gospel light."
"Oh that I had the strength," said Julia;
"I'll try."
She pnt on her bonnet, and went down with
her friend: but at the street door the strange
feeling of shame overpowered her: she blushed,
and trembled, and b^S^^ to substitute the gar-
den for the road. Jane consented, and said ev-
ery thing most have a beginning.
The fresh air, the bursting bads, and all the
face of nature, did Julia good; and she felt it:
156
VERY HABD CASH.
* Yon- little angel,'* said she, with something of
her old impetaosity, "you have saved me. I
was making myself worse hy shutting myself up
in that one miserable room."
They walked hand in hand for a good half
hour, and then Jane said she must go: papa
would miss her. Julia was sorry to part with
her, and almost without thinking accompanied
her through the house to the front gate, and that
was another point gained. "I never was so
sorry to part with you, love," said she. ** When
will you come again ? We leave to-morrow. I
am selfish to detain you ; but it seems as if my
guardian angel was leaving me."
Jane smiled. **I must go," said she, "but
111 leave better angels than I am behind me. I
leave you this: * Humble yourself under the
mighty hand of God.* When it seems most
harsh, then it is most loving. Pray for faith to
say with me, * Lead us by a way that we know
not.'"
They kissed one another, and Julia stood at
the gate and looked lovingly after her, with the
tears standing thick in her own violet eyes.
Now Maxley was coming down the road, all
grizzly and bloodshot, baited by the boys, who
had gradually swelled in number as he drew
nearer the town.
Jane was shocked at their heathenish cruelty,
and went off the path to remonstrate with them.
Instantly Maxley fell upon her, and began
beating her about the head and shoulders with
his heavy stick.
The miserable boys 'uttered yells of dismay,
but did nothing.
Julia uttered a violent scream, but flew to her
friend's aid, and crying **0h, you wretch! you
wretch !" actually caught the man by the throat
and shook him violently : he took his hand off
Jane Uardie, who instantly sank moaning on
the ground, and he cowered like a cur at the
voice and the purple gleaming eyes of the ex-
cited girl.
Tlie air filled with cries, and Edward ran out
of tlie house to see what was the matter ; but on
the spot nobody was game enough to come be-
tween the furious man and the fiery girl. The
consequence was her impetuous courage began
to flajr, and her eye to waver; the demented
man found this out by some half animal in-
stinct, and instantly caught her by the shoulder
and whirled her down on her knees : then raised
his staff high to destroy her.
She screanjed, and was just putting up her
hands, woman-like, not to see her death as well
as f;!el it, when something dark came past her
like a rushing wind, a blow, that sounded ex-
actly like that of a paving ram, caught Maxley
on the jaw ; and there was Edward Dodd blow-
ing like a grampus with rage, and Maxley on
his back in the road ; but men under cerebral
excitement are not easily stunned, and know no
paiii : he bounded off the ground, and came at
Edward like a Spanish bull. Edward slipped
aside, and caught him another ponderous blow
that sent him staggering, and his blu^eon flew
out of his hand, and Edward caught it ; lo ! the
maniac flew at him again more fiercely than
^ver: bat the young Hercules had seen Jane
'^' ding on the ground: he dealt her assailant
~H career such a murderous stroke with the
iou, that the people, who were running
from all quarters, shrieked with dismay, not for
Jane, but for Maxley ; and well they might :
that awful stroke laid him senseless, motionless,
and mute, in a pool of his own blood.
"Don't kill him. Sir; don't kill the man,**
was the cry.
"Why not ?" said Edward, sternly. He then
kneeled over his sweet-heart and Ufted her in
his arms like a child. Her bonnet was all bro-
ken, her eyes were turned upward and set, and
a little blood trickled down her cheek ; and that
cheek seemed streaked white and red.
He was terrified, agonized; yet he gasped
out, "You are safe, dear; don't be frightened.'*
She knew the voice.
"Oh, Edward!" she said, piteously and ten-
derly: and then moaned a little on his broad
bosom. He carried her into the house out of
the crowd.
The poor old doctor, coming in to end his
days in the alms-house, had seen it all : he got
out of his cart and hobbled up. He had been
in the army, and had both experience and skiU.
He got her bonnet off, and at sight of her head
looked very grave.
In a minute a bed was laid in the drawing-
room, and all the windows and doors open ; and
Edward, trembling now in every limb, ran to
Musgrove Cottage, while Mrs. Dodd and Julia
loosened the poor girl's dress, and bathed her
wounds with tepid water (the doctor would not
allow cold), and put wine carefully to her lips
with a tea-spoon.
"Wanted at your house, pray what for ?** said
Mr. Hardie, superciliously.
"Oh, Sir," said Edward, "such a calamity!
Pray come directly. A rufiian has struck her,
has hurt her terribly, terribly."
" Her ? Who ?" asked Mr. Hardie, beginning
to be uneasy.
"Who ? why Jane, your daughter, man ; and
there you sit chattering, instead of coming at
once."
Mr. Hardie rose hurriedly and put on his hat,
and accompanied him, half confused.
Soon Edward's mute agitation communicated
itself to him, and he went striding and trembling
by his side.
The crowd had gone with insensible Maxley
to the hospital; but the traces of the terrible
combat were there. Where Maxley fell the last
time, a bullock seemed to have been slaughtered
at the least.
The miserable father came on this, and gave
a great scream like a woman, and staggered
back white as a sheet.
Edward laid his hand on him, for he seemed
scarce able to stand.
"No, no, no,'* he cried, comprehending the
mistake at last ; "that is not hers Heaven for-
bid ! That is the madman's who did it ; I knock-
ed him down with his own cudgel.**
"God bless you! you've killed him, I hope."
" Oh, Sir, be more merciful, and then perhaps
God will be merciful to ns, and not take this
angel from us.*'
"No! no! you are right: good young man.
I little thought I had such a friend in your
house."
"Don't deceive yourself, Sir; it's not joa I
care for : / love her"
VEEY HARD CASH.
167
At this blunt declaration, so new and so of-
fensive to him, Mr. Hardie winced, and stopped,
bewildered.
But they were at the gate, and Edward hur-
ried him on. At the house door he drew back
once more ; for he felt a shiver of repugnance
at entering this hateful house, of whose happi-
ness he was the destroyer.
But enter it he must ; it was his fate.
The wife of the poor Captain he had driven*
mad met him in the passage, her motherly eyes
full of tears for him, and both hands held out to
him like a pitying angel.
^'Oh, Mr. Hardie," she said, in a broken
voice, and took him by both hands, and led him,
wonder-struck, stupefied, shivering with dark
fears, to the room where his crushed daughter
lay.
CHAPTER XXXVI.
Thb note Alfred Hardie received on the 10th
of April was from Peggy Black. The letters
weie well formed, for she had been educated at
the national school ; but the style was not upon
a par.
** Mr. Alfred, Sir, Margaret Black sends her
respects, and iif yon want to know the truth
about the money, I can tell you all, and where
it is at this present time. Sir, I am now in sit-
uation at Silverton Grove House, about a furlong
from the station ; and, if you will be so good to
call there and ask foif Margaret, I will tell you
where it is, which I mean the 14,000 ; for it is
a sin the young lady should be beguiled of her
own. Only you must please come this evening,
or else to-morrow before ten o'clock, by reason
my mistress and me we are going up to London
that day early, and she talk of taking me abroad
along with her. ^I remain, Sir,
"Yours respectftilly to command,
''MAsaABET Black.
***If you please, Sir, not to show this letter on
no account.*'
Alfred read this twice over, and felt a con-
temptaous repugnance toward the writer, a cash-
iered servant, who offered to tell the truth out
of spite, having easily resisted every worthy mo-
tive. Indeed, I think he would have perhaps
dismissed the subject into the fire, but for a
strange circumstance that had occurred to him
this very i^ternoon ; but I had no opportunity to
relate it till now. Well, just as he was going
to dress for dinner, he received a visit from Dr.
Wycherley, a gentleman he scarcely knew by
name. Dr. Wycherley inquired after his kepha-
lalgia ; Alfred stared and told hfm it was much
the same ; troubled him occasionally.
"And your insomnia."
"I don't know the word: have you any au-
thority for it?"
Dr. Wycherley smiled with a sort of benevo-
lent superiority that galled his patient, and pro-
ceeded to inquire after his nightly visions and
voices. But at this Alfred looked grave as well
as surprised and vexed. He was on his guard
now, and asked himself seriously what was the
meaning of all this, and could his father have
been so mad as to talk over his own shame with
this stranger : he made no reply whatever.
Dr. Wycherley's curiosity was not of a very
iirJpiit kind : for he was one of those who first
foi ra an opinion, and then collect the materials
o( ODO : and a very little fact goes a long way
with such minds. So, when he got no answer
Bbotit the nocturnal visions and voices, he glided
:almly on to another matter. **By-the-by, that
14,000!"
Alfred started; and then eyed him keenly:
'^ What 14,000?"
"The fabulous sum you labor under the im-
pression of your father having been guilty of
clandestinely appropriating."
This was too much for Alfred's patience: "I
don't know who you are, Sir," said he ; "I never
cxclianged but three words in my life with you,
and do you suppose I will talk to a stranger on
family matters of so delicate a kind as this ? I
begin to think yon have intruded yourself on me
tjimply to gratify an impertinent curiosity."
' ^ The hypothesis is at variance with my estab-
lished character," replied the oleaginous one.
' ' Do me the justice to believe in the necessity
uf tliis investigation, and that it is one of a most
friendly character."
"Then I decline the double nuisance: your
curiosity and your friendship! take them both
out oi my room. Sir, or I shall turn them both
o;jt by one pair of shoulders."
"You shall smart for this," said the doctor,
driven to plain English by anger, that great sol-
vent of circumlocution with which Nature has
mercifully supplied us; he made to the door,
opened it, and said in considerable excitement
to some one outside, "Excited ! ^Very !"
Now Dr. Pleonast had no sooner been con--
verted to the vernacular, and disappeared, than
anotljcr stranger entered the room: he had evi-
dently been lurking in the passage: it was a
man of smallish stature, singularly gaunt, an-
gtilur, and haggard, but dressed in a spruce snil
of black, tight, new, and glossy. In short, he
looked like Borneo's apothecary gone to Stulte
wi th th e money. He fluttered in with pale cheek
and apprehensive body, saying hurriedly, "Now,
my flfejr Sir, be calm: prmf be calm: I have
come down all the way from London to see yon,
and I am sure you won't make me lose my jour-
ney ; will you now ?"
*^And pray who asked you to come all the
way from London, Sir ?"
"A person to whom your health is very
dear,"
*^01i indeed; so I have secret friends, have
I ? Well, you may tell my secret, underhand
frieTidsj I never was better in my life."
*'I am truly glad to hear it,** said the little
man: "let me introduce myself, as Dr. Wy-
cherley forgot to do it." And he handed Alfred
a card on which his name and profession were
written.
^*WeU, Mr. Speers," said Alfred, *'I have
only A moment to give you, for I must dress for
dituict. What do you want ?"
* ' I come. Sir, in hopes of convincing your
friends you are not so very ill ; not incurable.
Why your eye is steady, your complexion good ;
a Httle high with the excitement of this conver-
sation ; but, if we can only get over this little
delusion, all will be welL"
"What little delusion ?"
** About the 14,000, you know."
158
VEBY HABD CASH.
What 14,000? I hare not mentioned
14,000 to you, have I?"
'*No, Sir: you seem to shun it like poison;
that is the worst of it ; yon talk about it to oth-
ers fast enough ; but to Dr. Wycherlcy and my-
self, who could cure you of it, you would hide
idl about it, if you could."
At this Alfred rose and pnt his hands in his
pockets, and looked down grimly on his inquisi-
tor. **Mr. Speers," said he, "you had better
go. There is no credit to be gained by throwing
00 small an apothecary as you out of that win-
dow ; and you won't find it pleasant either ; for,
if you proToke me to it, I shall not stand upon
ceremony ; I sha'n't open the window first, as I
should for Dr. What*s his confounded name."
At these suggestive words, spoken with sup-
pressed ire and flashing eyes, Speers scuttled to
the door crabwise, holding the young lion in
check, conventionally ; to wit, with an eye as
Taliant as a sheep's; and a joyful apothecary
was he when he found himself safe outside the
house and beside Dr. Wycherley, who was wait-
ing for him.
Alfred soon cooled, and began to laugh at his
own anger and the unbounded impudence of his
risitors ; but, on the other hand, it struck him
as a grave circumstance that so able a man as
his father should stir muddy water should go
and talk to these strangers about the money he
had misappropriated. He puzzled himself all
the time he was dressing: and not to trouble
the reader with all the conjectures that passed
through his mind, he concluded at last that Mr.
Hardie must feel very strong, very sure there
was no evidence against him but his son's, or he
would not take the eighth commandment by the
horns like this.
"Injustice carries it with a high hand,"
thought Alfred, with a sigh. He was not the
vonth to imitate his father's shamelessness : so
he locked this last incident in his own breast ;
did not even mention it to Julia.
But now,-t)n reading Peggy's note, his warlike
instincts awoke, and, though he despised his cor-
respondent and her motives, he could not let
such a chance pass of defeating brazen injustice.
It was unfortunate and awkward to have to go
to Silverton on his wedding morning ; but, after
all, there was plenty of time. He packed up his
things at once for the wedding tour, and in the
morning took them with him in the fly to Sil-
verton : his plan was to come back direct to Al-
bion Villa : so he went to Silverton Grove full
dressed, all ready for the wedding.
As it happened, he overtook his friend Peter-
son just outside the town, called to him gayly,
and invited him to church and breakfast.
To his surprise the young gentleman replied
sullenly that he should certainly not come.
"Not come, old fellow?" said Alfred, hurt.
" You have a good cheek to ask me," retorted
the other.
This led to an explanation. Peterson's com-
plaint was that he had told Alfred he was in
love with Julia, and Alfred had gone directly
and fallen in love with her, just to cut him out.
* What are you talking about?" said Alfred :
llfak is the reason you have kept away from
why, I was engaged to her at the
1 1 only my father was keeping us
"Then why didn't you say so?"
"Because my love is not of the prattling sort."
" Oh, nonsense ; I don't believe a word of it."
" You don't believe my word ! Did you ever
know me tell a lie ? At that rate think what
yon please, Sir: drive on, Strabo."
And so ended that little friendship.
On the road our ardent youth arranged in his
head a noble scheme. He would bring Peggy
Black home with him, compensating her liber-
ally for the place she would thereby lose : would
confront her privately with his father, and con-
vince him it was his interest to restore the Dodds
their money with a good grace, take the 5000
he had already offered, and countenance the
wedding by letting Jane be present at it. It
was hard to do all this in the time, but well
worth tr}'ing for, and not impossible; a two-
horse fly is not a slow conveyance, and he of-
fered the man a guinea to drive fast ; so that it
was not nine o'clock when they reached Silver-
ton Grove House, a place Alfred had never
heard of; this, however, I may observe, was no
wonder : for it had not borne that name a twelve-
month.
It was a large square mansion of red brick,
with stone facings and comers, and with balus-
trades that hid the garret windows. It stood in
its own grounds, and the entrance was through
handsome iron gates, one of which was wide
open to admit people on foot or horseback. The
flyman got down and tried to open the other,
but could not manage it. " There, don't waste
time," said Alfred, impatiently, **let me out.**
He found a notice under the bell, "Ring and
enter." He rang accordingly, and at the clang
the hall door opened as if he had pulled a port-
er along with the bell, and a gray-haired senr-
ant out of livery stood on the steps to receive
him. Alfred hurried across the plot, which was
trimmed as neatly as a college green, and asked
the servant if he could see Margaret Black.
" Margaret Black ?" said the man, doubtfully:
" ril inquire. Sir. Please to follow me."
They entered a handsome hall, with antlers
and armor : from this a double staircase led up
to a landing with folding-doors in the centre of
it ; one of these doors was wide open like the
iron gate outside. The servant showed Alfred
up the left-hand staircase, through the open
door, into a spacious drawing-room, handsomely
though not gayly furnished and decorated ; but
a little darkened by Venetian blinds.
The old servant walked gravely on and on,
till Alfred began to think he would butt the
wall; but he put his hand out and opened a
door that might very well escape a stranger's
notice; for it was covered with looking-glass,
and matched another narrow mirror in shape
and size : this door led into a very long room,
as plain and even sordid as the drawing-room
was inviting ; the nnpapered walls were a cold
drab, and wanted washing ; there was a thick
cobweb up in one comer, and from the ceiling
hung the tail of another, which the housemaid's
broom had scotched, not killed : that side of the
room they entered by was all books. The serv-
ant said, "Stay here a moment^ Sir, and Til
send her to you." With this he retired into the
drawing-room, closing the door softly after him:
once closed it became invisible; it fitted like
wax, and left nothing to be seen bat books; not
VERY HABD CASH.
159
even a knob. It shut to with that gentle bat
clean click which a spring bolt, however polished
and oiled and gently closed, will emit. Alto-
gether it was enough to give some people a turn.
But Alfred's nerves were not to do affected by
trifles; he put his hands in his pockets and
walked up and down the room, quietly enough
at first, but by-and-by uneasily. "Confound
her for wasting my time," thought he; "why
doesn't she come ?"
Then, as he had learned to pick up the frag-
ments of time, and hated dawdling, he went to
take a book from the shelves. *
He found it was a piece of iron, admirably
painted : it chilled his hand with its unexpected
coldness : and all the books on and about the
door were iron and chilly.
"Well," thought he, " this is the first dummy
ever took me in. What a fool the man must
bel Why, he could have bought books with
ideas in them for the price of these impostors.'*
Still Peggy did not come. So he went to a
door opposite and at right angles to the farthest
window, meaning to open it and inquire after
her: lo and behold he found this was a knob
without a door. There had been a door, but it
was blocked up. The only available door on
that side had a key-hole, but no latch nor handle.
Alfred was a prisoner.
He no sooner found this out than he began to
hammer on the door with his fists and call out.
This had a good effect, for he heard a woman's
dress come rustling: a key was inserted, and
the door opened. But, instead of Peggy, it was
a tall well-formed woman of thirty, with dark
gray eyes and straightish eyebrows, massive and
black as jet. She was dressed quietly, but like
a lady. Mrs. Archbold, for that was her* name,
cast on Alfred one of those swift, all-devouring
glances, with which her sex contrive to take in
the features, character, and dress of a person
from head to foot, and smiled most graciously
on him, revealing a fine white set of teeth. She
begged him to take a seat, and sat down her-
self. She had left the door ajar.
" I came to see Margaret Black,*' said Alfred.
" Margaret Black ? There is no such person
here," was the quiet reply.
" What, has she gone away so early as this?"
Mrs. Archbold smiled, and said, soothingly,
"Are you sure she ever existed, except in your
imagination?"
Alfred laughed at this, and showed her Peggy's
letter. She ran her eye over it. and returned it
him with a smile of a different kind, half-pitying,
half-cynical. But presently resuming her former
manner, " I remember now," said she, in dulcet
tones: "the anxiety you are laboring under is
about a large sum of money, is it not ?"
"Wliat, can you give me any information
about it?" said he, surprised.
"I think we can render you great service in
the matter, infinite service, Mr. Hardie," was
the reply in a voice of very honey.
Alfred was amazed at this. "You say you
don't know Peggy I And yet you seem to know
me. I never saw you in my life before, madam ;
what on earth is the meaning of all this ?"
"Calm yourself," said Mrs. Archbold, laying
a white and finely-moulded hand upon his arm,
"there is no wonder nor mystery in the matter :
you were expected,"
The color rushed into Alfred's face, and he
started to his feet : some vague instinct told him
to be gone from this place.
The lady fixed her eyes on him, put her hand .
to a gold chain that was round her neck, and
drew out of her white bosom, not a locket, nor
a key, but an ivory whistle ; keeping her eye
steadily fixed on Alfred, she breathed softly into
the whistle. Then two men stepped quietly in
at the door; one was a short, stout snob, with
great red whiskers, the other a wiry gentleman
with iron-gray hair. The latter spoke to Alfred,
and began to coax him. If Mrs. Archbold was
honey, this personage was treacle. "Be calm,
my dear young gentleman, don't agitate your-
self. You have been sent here for your good ;
and that you may be cured, and so restored to
society, and to your anxious and affectionate
friends."
"What are you talking about? what do you
mean ?" cried Alfred ; " are you mad ?"
"No, we are not," said the short snob, with a
coarse laugh.
"Have done with this fooling, then," said
Alfred, sharply; "the person I came to see is
not here ; good-morning."
The short man instantly stepped to the door
and put his back to it. The other said, calmly,
"No, Mr. Hardie, you can not leave the house
at present."
"Can't I? Why not, pray?" said Alfred,
drawing his breath hard : and his eyes began to
glitter dangerously.
" We are responsible for your safety ; we have
force at hand if necessary ; pray do not compel
us to summon it."
"Why where, in God's name, am I?" said
Alfred, panting now ; " is this a prison ?"
"No, no," said Mrs. Archbold, soothingly;
" it is a place where you will be cured of your
headaches and your delusions, and subjected to
no unnecessary pain nor restraint."
"Oh, bother!" said the short snob, brutally.
"Why make two bites of a cherry? You are
in my asylum, young gentleman, and a devilish
lucky thing for you."
At this fatal word "asylum" Alfred. uttered
a cry of horror and despair, and his eyes roved
wildly round the room in search of escape. But
the windows of the room, though outside the
house they seemed to come as low as those of
the drawing-room, were partly bricked up within,
and made just too high to be reached without a
chair. And his captors read that wild glance
directly, and the doctor whipped one chair away,
while Mrs. Archbold, with more tact, sat quietly
down on the other. They all three blew their
whistles shrilly.
Alfred uttered an oath and rushed at the door :
but heard heavy feet running on stone passages
toward the whistles, and felt he had no chance
out that way: his dilating eye fell upon the
handle of the old defunct door : he made a high
leap, came down with his left foot on its knob
of brass, and, though of course he could not
stand on it, contrived to spring from it slap at
the window Mrs. Archbold screamed ^he broke
the glass with his shoulder, and tore and kicked
the wood-work, and squeezed through on to a
stone ledge outside, and stood there bleeding
and panting, just as half a dozen keepers burst
into the room at his back. He was more than
160
VERY HARD CASH.
twenty feet from the ground : to leap down was
death or mutilation ; he saw the flyman driving
away. He yelled to him, **Hy! hy! stop!
stop !" The flyman stopped and looked round.
But soon as he saw who it was, he just grinned :
Alfred could see his hideous grin ; and there was
the rattle of chairs heing brought to the window,
and men were mounting softly to secure him ; a
coarse hand stole toward his ankle ; he took a
swift step and s])rang desperately on to the next
ledge : it was an old manor-house, and these
ledges were nearly a foot broad : from this one
he bounded to the next, and then to a third, the
last but one on this side the building ; the comer
ledge was but half the size, and offered no safe
footing : but close to it he saw the outside leaves
of a tree. That tree, then, must grow close to
the comer; could he but get round to it he
might yet reach the ground whole. Urged by
that terror of a mad- house which is natural to a
sane man, and in England is fed by occasional
disclosures, and the general suspicion they ex-
cite, he leaped on to a piece of stone no bigger
than one's hat, and then whirled himself round
into the tree, all eyes to see and claws to grasp.
It was a weeping ash : he could get hold of
nothing but soft yielding slivers that went
through his fingers, and so down with him like
a bulrush, and souse he went with his hands
full of green leaves over head and ears into the
water of an enormous iron tank that fed the
baths.
The heavy plunge, the sudden cold water, the
instant darkness, were appalling: yet, like the
fox among the hounds, the gallant young gen-
tleman did not lose heart nor give tongue. He
came up gurgling and gasping, and swimming
for his life in manly silence: he swam round
and round the edge of the huge tank trying in
vain to get a hold upon its cold rusty walls. He
heard whistles and voices about ; they came faint
to him where he was, but he knew they could
not be very far off.
Life is sweet. It flashed across him how, a
few years before, a university man of great
promise had perished miserably in a tank on
some Swiss mountain, a tank placed for the
comfort of travelers. He lifted his eyes to
Heaven in despair, and gave one great sob.
Then he turned upon his back and floated:
but he was obliged to paddle with his hands a
little to keep up.
A window opened a few feet above him, and
a face peered out between the bars.
Then he gave all up for lost, and looked to
hear a voice denounce him: but no, the livid
face and staring eyes at the window took no no-
tice of him ; it was a maniac, whose eyes, bereft
of reason, conveyed no images to the sentient
brain : only by some half vegetable instinct this
darkened man was turning toward the morning
sun, and staring it full in the face ; Alfred saw
the rays strike and sparkle on those glassy orbs,
and fire them ; yet they never so much as wink-
ed. He was appalled yet fascinated by this weird
sight ; could not take his eyes off it, and shud-
dered at it in the very water. With such croat-
nres as that he must bo confined, or die miser-
ably like a mouse in a basin of water.
ed between two horrors.
his foot struck something, and he
i large pipe that entered the tank to
the distance of about a foot. This pipe was not
more than three feet under water, and Alfred
soon contrived to get upon it and rest his fingers
upon the iron edge of the tank. The position
was painful : yet so he determined to remain dll
night ; and then, if possible, steal away. Every
faculty of mind and body was strung up to de-
fend himself against the wretches who had en-
trapped him.
He had not been long in this position when
voices approached, and next the shadow of a
ladder moved across the wall toward him. The
keepers were going to search his pitiable hiding-
place. They knew, what he did not, that there
was no outlet from the premises : so now, hav-
ing hunted every other comer and cranny, they
came by what is called the exhaustive process
of reasoning to this tank ; and, when they got
near it, something in the appearance of the
tree caught the gardener s quick eye. Alfred
quaking heard him say, ''Look here I He is
not far from this."
Another voice said, "Then the Lord have
mercy on him ; why there's seven foot of water;
I measured it last night."
At this Alfred was conscious of a movement
and a murmur, that proved humanity was not
extinct ; and the ladder was fixed close to the
tank, and feet came hastily up it.
Alfred despaired.
But, as usual with spirits so qnick-witted and
resolute, it was but for a moment. '* One man
in his time plays many animals ;" he caught at
the words he had heard, and played the game
the jackal desperate plays in India, the fox in
England, the elephant in Ceylon: he feigned
death ; filled his mouth with water, floated on
his back paddling imperceptibly, and half closed
his eyes.
He was rewarded by a loud shout of dismay
just above his head, and very soon another lad-
der was placed on the other side, and with ropes
and hands he was drawn out and carried down
the ladder ; he took this opportunity to discharge
the water from his mouth; on which a coarse
voice said, "Look there! Sis troubles are at
an end."
However, they laid him on the grass, and sent
for the doctor : then took off his coat, and one
of them began to feel his heart to see whether
there was any pulsation left; he found it thump-
ing. "Look out," he cried, in some alarm,
"he's shaming Abraham."
But before the words were well uttered, Al-
fred, who was a practiced gjonnast, bounded off
the ground without touching it with his hands,
and fled like a deer toward the front of the
house ; for he remembered the open iron gate :
the attendants followed shouting, and whistle
answered whistle all over the grounds. Alfred
got safe to the iron gate : alas ! it had been
closed at the first whistle twenty minutes ago.
He turned in rage and desperation, and the
head-keeper, a powerful man, was rushing incau-
tiously upon him. Alfred instantly steadied
himself, and with his long arm caught the man
in full career a left-handed blow like the kick
of a pony, that laid his cheek open and knocked
him stupid and staggering; he followed it up
like lightning with his right, and, throwing his
whole weight into this second blow, sent the
staggering man to grass ; slipped past another, .
VERY HARD CASH.
161
and, skirting the south side of the house, got to
the tank again well in advance of his pursuers,
seized the ladder, carried it to the garden wall,
and was actually half-way up it, and saw the
open country and liberty, when the ladder was
dragged away and he fell heavily to the ground,
and a keeper threw himself bodily on him. Al-
fred half expected this, and drawing up his foot
in time, dashed it furiously in the coming face,
actually knocking the man backward : another
kneeled on his chest ; Alfred caught him by the
throat so felly that he lost all power, and they
rolled over and over together, and Alfred got
clear and ran for it again, and got on the mid-
dle of the lawn, and hallooed to the house : ' ' Hy !
hy ! Are there any more sane men imprisoned
there ? come out, and fight for your lives !" In-
stantly the open windows were filled with white
faces, some grinning, some exulting, all greatly
excited ; and a hideous uproar shook the whole
place ^for the poor souls were all sane in their
own opinion and the whole force of attendants,
two of them bleeding profusely from his blows,
made a cordon and approached him ; but he
was too cunning to wait to be fairly surrounded ;
he made his rush at an undcr-keepcr, feinted at
his head, caught him a heavy blow in the pit of
the stomach, doubled him up in a moment, and
off again, leaving the man on his knees vomiting
and groaning. Several mild maniacs ran out in
vast agitation and, to curry favor, offered to help
catch him. Vast was their zeal. But when it
came to the point they only danced wildly about,
and cried, "Stop him I for God's sake stop him I
he's ill, dreadfuUy ill ; poor wretch ! knock out
his brains!'* And, whenever he came near
them, away they ran whining like kicked curs.
Mrs. Archbold, looking out at a window, ad-
vised them all to let him alone, and she would
come out and persuade him. But they would
not be advised ; they chased him about the lawn ;
but so swift of foot was he, and so long in the
reach, that no one of them could stop him, nor
indeed come near him, without getting a facer
that came like a Hash of lightning.
At last, however, they got so well round him,
ho saw his chance was gone : he took off his hat
to Mrs. Archbold at the window, and said quiet-
ly, "I surrender to yow, madam."
At these words they rushed on him rashly ; on
this he planted two blows right and left, swift as
a cat attacked by dogs ; administered two fearful
black eyes, and instantly folded his arms, saying
haughtily, "It was to the lady I yielded, not to
you fellows."
They seized him, shook their fists in his face,
cursed him, and pinned him ; he was quite pas-
sive : they handcuffed him, and drove him be-
fore them, shoving him every now and then
rouglily by the shoulders. He made no resist-
ance, spoke no word. They took him to the
strong-room, and manacled his ankles together
with an iron hobble, and then strapped them to
the bedposts, and fastened his body down by '
broad bands of ticking with leathern straps at
the ends ; and so left him more helpless than a
swaddled infant. The hurry and excitement of
defense were over, and a cold stupor of misery
came down and sat like lead on him. He lay
mnto as death in his gloomy cell, a tomb within
a living tomb. And, as he lay, deeper horror
grow and giewin his dilating eyes ; gusts of rage
swept over him, shook him, and passed ; then
gusts of despairing tenderness; all came and
went, but his bonds. What would his Julia
think ? If he could only let her know ! At this
thought he called, he shouted, he begged for a
messenger : there was no reply. The cry of a
dangerous lunatic from the strong-room was less
heeded here than a bark from any dog kennel
in Christendom. "This is my father's doing,"
he said. "Cureehim! Curse him! Curse him!"
and his brain seemed on fire, his temples throbbed :
he vowed to God to be revenged on his father.
Then he writhed at his own meanness in com-
ing to visit a servant, and his folly in being caught
by so shallow an artifice. He groaned aloud.
The clock in the hall struck ten. There was just
time to get back if they would lend him a eon-
veyance. He shouted, he screamed, he prayed.
He offered terms humbly, piteously ; he would
forgive his father, forgive them all ; he would say
no more about the money ; would do any thing,
consent to any thing, if they would only let him
keep faith with his Julia : they had better con-
sent, and not provoke his vengeance. "Have
mercy on me !" he cried. "Don't make mo in-
sult her I love. They will all be waiting for me.
It is my wedding-day: you can't have known
it is my wedding-day; fiends, monsters, 1 tell
you it is my wedding-day. Oh pray send the
lady to me ; she can't be all stone, and my mis-
ery might melt a stone." He listened for an an-
swer, he prayed for an answer. There was none.
Once in a mad-house, the sanest man is mad,
however interested and barefaced the motive of
the relative who has brought two of the most ve*
nal class upon the earth to sign away his wits
behind his back ; and, once hobbled and strapped,
he is a dangerous maniac, for just so many days,
weeks, or years, as the hobbles handcuffs and
jacket happen to be left upon him by inhu-
manity, economy, or simple carelessness. Poor
Alfred'^ cries and prayers were heard, but no
more noticed than the night howl of a wolf on
some distant mountain. All was sullen silence
but the grating tongue of the clock, which told
the victim of a legislature's shallowness and a
father's avarice that Time, deaf to his woe, as
were the walls the men the women and the cut-
ting bands, was stealing away with iron finger
his last chance of meeting his beloved at the
altar.
He closed his eyes, and saw her lovelier than
ever, dressed all in white, waiting for him with
sweet concern in that peerless face. * * Julia ! Ju-
lia!" he cried, with a loud heart-broken cry.
The half hour struck. At that he struggled, ho
writhed, he bounded : he made the very room
shake, and lacerated his flesh ; but that was all.
No answer. No motion. No help. No hope.
The perspiration rolled do\vn his steaming
body. The tears burst from his young eyes and
ran down his cheeks. He sobbed, and sobbing
almost choked, so tight were his linen bands,
upon his bursting bosom.
He lay still exhausted.
The clock ticked harshly on : the rest was si-
lence. With this miserable exception ; ever and
anon the victim's jammed body shuddered so ter-
ribly it shook and rattled the iron bedstead, and
told of the storm within, the agony of the racked
and all-foreboding soul.
For then rolled over that young head hour^ o^^
162
VEBY HAKD CASH.
mortal anguish that no tongae of man can\itter,
nor pen can shadow. Chained sane among the
mad ; on his wedding-day ; expecting with tied
hands the sinister acts of the soal-murdcrers who
had the power to make their lie a truth I We
can paint the body writhing vainly against its
unjust bonds; but who can paint the loathing,
agonized soul in a mental situation so ghastly ?
For my pait I feel it in my heart of hearts, but
am impotent to convey it to others; impotent,
impotent.
Fray think of it for yourselves, men and wo-
men, if you have not sworn never to think over
a novel. Think of it, for your own sakes; Al-
fred's turn to-day, it may be yours to-morrow.
CHAFTER XXXVn.
At two o'clock an attendant stole on tip-toe to
the strong room, unlocked the door and peeped
cautiously in. Seeing the dangerous maniac
quiet, he entered with a plate of lukewarm beef
and potatoes, and told him bluntly to eat. The
crushed one said ho could not eat. "You must,"
said tlie man. " Eat !" said Alfred ; "of what do
Jrou think I am made? Fray put it down and
isten to me. I'll give you a hundred pounds to
let me out of this place ; two hundred ; three."
A coarse laugh gi-ceted this proposal. '* You
might as well have made it a thousand when you
was about it."
" So I will," said Alfred, eagerly, ** and thank
you on my knees besides. Ah, 1 see you don't
believe I have money. I give you my honor
I have ten thousand pounds: it was settled on
me by my grandfather, and I came of age last
week."
**0h that's like enough," said the man, care-
lessly. "Well you are green. Do you think
them as sent you here will let you spend your
money? No, your money is theirs now."
And he sat down with the plate on his knee
and began to cut the meat in small pieces ; while
his careless words entered Alfred's heart, and
gav3 him such a glimpse of sinister motives and
dark acts to come as set him shuddering.
"Come, none o' that,*' said the man, suspect-
ing this shudder ; he thought it was the prologue
to some desiKjrate act for all a chained mad-
man does is read upon this plan ; his terror pass-
es for rage, his very sobs for snarls.
"Oh, bs^honcst with me," said Alfred, im-
ploringly: "do you think it is to steal my mon-
ey the wretch has stolen my liberty ?"
" What wretch ?"
"My father."
" I know nothing about it,'* said the man, sul-
lenly : " in course there's mostly money behind
when young gents like you come to be took care
of. But you mustn't go thinking of that, or
you'll excite yourself again ; come, you eat your
Yittles like a Christian, and no more about it."
" Leave it, that is a good fellow ; and then FU
try and eat a little by-and-by. But my grief is
great oh Julia! Julia! what shall I do? And
I am not used to eat at this time. Will you, my
^ pod fe llow?"
"T / will, now you behave like a gentle-
'' the man,
red coaxed him to take off the hand-
cufis. He refused, but ended by doing it ; and
so left him.
Four more leaden hours rolled by, and thea
this same attendant (his name was Brown)
brought him a cup of tea. It was welcome to
his parched throat ; he drank it, and ate a moutlw
ful of the meat to please the man, and even asked
for some more tea.
At eight four keepers came into his room,
undressed him, compelled him to make his toil-
et, etc., before them, which put him to shame
being a gentleman almost as much as it
would a woman : they then hobbled him, and
fastened his ankles to the bed, and put his hands
into muffles, but did not confine his body ; be-
cause they had lost a lucrative lodger only a
month ago, throttled at night in a strait-waist-
coat.
Alfred lay in this plight, and compared with
anguish unspeakable his joyful anticipations of
this night with the strange and cruel reality.
"My wedding-night! my wedding-night !". he
cried aloud, and burst into a passion of grief.
By-and-by he consoled himself a little with the
hope that he could not long be incarcerated as a
madman, being sane ; and his good wit told him
his only chance was calmness. He would go to
sleep and recover composure to bear his wrongs
with dignity, and quietly baffle his enemies.
Just as he was dropping off he felt something
crawl over his face. Instinctively he made a
violent motion to put his hands up. Both hands
were confined, he could not move them. Ete
bounded; he flung, ho writhed. His little per-
secutors were quiet a moment, but the next they
began again : in vain he rolled and writhed, and
shuddered with loathing inexpressible. They
crawled, they smelt, they bit.
Many a poor soul these little wretches had dis-
tracted with the very sleeplessness the mad-hoose
professed to cure, not create. In conjunction
with the opiates, the confinement, and the gloom
of Silverton House, they had driven many a fee-
ble mind across the line that divides the weak
and nervous from the unsound.
When he found there was no help, Alfred
clenched his teeth and bore it: "Bite on, ye
little wretches," he said: "bite on, and divert
my mind from deeper stings than yours ^if yoa
can."
And they did ; a little.
Thus passed the night in mental agony, and
bodily irritation and disgust. At daybreak the
feasters on his flesh retired, and, utterly worn-
out and exhausted, he sank into a deep sleep.
At half past seven the head keeper and three
more came in, and made him dress before them.
They handcuffed him, and took him down to
breakfast in the noisy ward ; set him down on a
little bench by the wall like a naughty boy, and
ordered a dangerous maniac to feed him.
The dangerous maniac obeyed, and went and
sat beside Alfred with a basin of thick gruel and
a great wooden spoon. He shoveled the gmd
down his charge's throat mighty superciliously
from the very first; and presently, falling into
some favorite and absorbing train of thought, he
fixed his eye on vacancy and handed the spoon-
fuls over his left shoulder with snch rapidiQr
and recklossness that it was more like sowing
t\iaTv feftdm?,. Alfred cried out, "Quarter I I
, can't eaX bo le&X. ^ \)^^Xk, ^^^^^'h **
VERY HARD CASH.
163
Something in his tone strnck the maniac ; he
looked at Alfred full ; Alfred looked at him in
return, and smiled kindly bat sadly.
"Halloo!** cried the maniac.
"What's np now?" said a keeper, fiercely.
"Why this man is sane. As sane as I am."
At this there was a hoarse langh.
" Saner," persisted the maniac ; " for I am a
little queer at times, you know."
" And no mistake, Jemmy. Now what makes
you think he is sane ?"
"Looked me full in the face, and smiled at
me.*'
" Oh that is your test, is it ?"
"Yes it is. You try it on any of those mad
beggars there and see if they can stand it."
"Who invented gunpowder?" said one of the
iofolted persons, looking as sly and malicious
as A magpie going to steal.
Jemmy exploded directly: "I did, ye rascal,
ye liar, ye rognc, ye Baconian!" and going
higher, and higher, and higher in this strain,
was very soon handcuffed with Alfred's hand-
cnfTs, and seated on Alfred's bench and tied to
two rings in the wall. On this his martial ar-
dor went down to zero: "Here is treatment,
Shr," said he, piteously, to Alfred. "I see you
are a gentleman ; now look at this. All spite
and jealousy ; because I invented that invaluable
snbstance, which has done so much to prolong
human life and alleviate human misery."
Alfred was now ordered to feed Jemmy;
which he did: so qnicl.ly were their parts in-
verted.
Directly after breakfast Alfred demanded to
8ee the proprietor of the asylum.
Answer : doesn't live here.
The Doctor then.
Oh, he has not come.
This monstrosity irritated Alfred. "Well,
then," said he, "whoever it is that rules this
den of thieves, when those two aro out of it."
" I rule in Mr. Baker's absence," said the head
keeper, " and I'll teach y(ni manners, you young
blackguard. Handcuff him."
In five minutes Alfred was handcuflFed and
flung into a padded room.
" Stay there till you know how to speak to
your betters,'* said the head keeper.
Alfred walked up and down, grinding his teeth
with rage for five long hours.
Just before dinner Brown came and took him
into a parlor, where Mrs. Archbold was seated
writing. Brown retired. The lady finished
what she was doing, and kept Alfred standing
like a school-boy going to be lectured. At last
she said, "I have sent for you to give you a
piece of advice: it is to try and make friends
with the attendants."
"Me make friends with the scoundrels! I
thirst for their lives. Oh, madam, I fear I shall
kill somebody here !"
"Foolish boy; they are too strong for you.
Your worst enemies could wish nothing worse
for you than that you should provoke them."
In saying these words she was so much more
kind and womanly that Alfred conceived hopes,
and burst out, "Oh, madam, you are human
then : you seem to pity me : pray give me pen
and paper, and let me write to my friends to get
me out of this terrible place ; do not refuse me.'^
Mn. Archbold resumed her distant manner
without apparent effort: she said nothing, but
she placed writing materials before him. She
then left the room and locked him in.
He wrote a few hasty ardent words to Julia,
telling her how he had been entrapped, but not a
word about his sufferings he was too generous
to give her needless pain and a line to Edward
imploring him to come at once with a lawyer
and an honest physician, and liberate him.
Mrs. Archbold returned soon after, and he
asked her if she would lend him sealing-wax :
"I dare not trust to an envelope in such a place
as this," said he. She lent him sealing-wax.
"But how am I to post it?" said he.
"Easily: there is a box in the house; I will
show you."
She took him and showed him the box : he put
his letters into it, and in the ardor of his grati-
tude kissed her hand : she winced a little and
said, "Mind, this is not by my advi\;e ; I would
never tell my friends I had been in a mad-house ;
oh, never. I would be calm, make friends with
the servants they are the real masters and
never let a creature know where I had been."
"Oh, you don't know my Julia," said Alfred;
" she will never desert me, never think the worse
of me because I have been entrapped illegally
into a mad-house."
"Illegally, Mr. Hardiel you deceive your-
self; Mr. Baker told me the order was signed
by a relation, and the certificates by first-rate
lunacy doctors."
"What on earth has that to do with it, mad-
am, when I am as sane as you are ?"
" It has every thing to do with it. Mr. Baker
could be punished for confining a madman in
this house without an order and two certificates ;
but he couldn't for confining a sane person un-
der an order and two certificates."
Alfred could not believe this, but she con-
vinced him that it was so.
Then he began to fear he should be imprisoned
for years : he turned pale, and looked at her so
piteously, that to soothe him she told him sane
people were never kept in asylums now; they
only used to be.
"How can they?" said she, "The London
asylums are visited four times a year by the com-
missioners, and the country asylums six times,
twice by the commissioners, and four times by
the justices. We shall be inspected this week or
next; and then you can speak to the justices:
mind and be calm , say it is a mistake ; offer
testimony; and ask either to be discharged at
once or to have a commission of lunacy sit on
you ; ten to one your friends will not face public
proceedings : but you inust begin at the founda-
tion, by making the servants friendly and by
being calm." She then fixed her large gray eye
on him and said, "Now, if I let you dine with
me and the first-class patients, will you pledge
me your honor to *be calm,' and not attempt
to escape ?" Alfred hesitated at that. Her eye
dissected his character all the time. * * I promise,"
said he at last, with a deep sigh. " May I sit by
you ? There is something so repugnant in the
very idea of mad people."
"Try and remember ft is their misfortune,
not their crime," said Mrs. Archbold, just like
a matronly i&tx ^\aw!L\^\xvsj, ^ X^xciKicv^x \x^^^
164
VERY HARD CASH.
was lurking abont unseen all the time. He
emerged and walked about with Alfred, and by.
and-by, looking down from a corridor, they saw
Mrs. Archbold driving the second-class women
before her to dinner like a flock of animals.
Whenever one stopped to look at any thing, or
try and gossip, the philanthropic Archbold went
at her just like a shepherd's dog at a refractory
sheep, caught her by the shoulders, and drove
her squeaking headlong.
At dinner Alfred was so fortnnate as to sit
opposite a gentleman who nodded and grinned
at him all dinner with a horrible leer. He could
not, however, enjoy this to the full for a little
distraction at his elbow: his right-hand neigh-
bor kept forking pieces out of his ])Iate and
substituting others from his own ; there was
even a tendency to gristle in the latter. Alfred
remonstrated gently at first ; the gentleman for-
bore a minute, then recommenced ; Alfred laid
a hand very quietly on his wrist and put it back.
Mrs. Archbold's quick eye surprised this ges-
ture : "What is the matter there?" said she.
" Oh, nothing serious, madam," replied Al-
fred: "only this gentleman does me the honor
to prefer the contents of my plate to his own."
"Mr. Cooper!" said the Archbold, sternly.
Cooper, the head keeper, pounced on the of-
fender, seized him roughly by the collar, dragged
him from the table, knocking his chair down,
and bundled him out of the room with igno-
miny and fracas, in spite of a remonstrance
from Alfred, "Oh, don't be so rough with the
poor man."
Then the novice laid down his knife and fork,
and ate no more. " I am grieved at my own ill-
nature in complaining of such a trifle," said he,
when all was quiet.
The company stared considerably at this re-
mark; it seemed to them a most morbid per-
version of sensibility ; for the deranged, thin-
skinned beyond conception in their own per-
sons, and alive to the shadow of the shade of
a wrong, are stoically indifferent to the woes of
others.
Though Alfred was quiet as a lamb all day,
the attendants returned him to the padded room
at night, because he had been there last night ;
but they only fastened one ankle to the bed-
post : so he encountered his Liliputians on tol-
erably fair terms numbers excepted; they
swarmed. Unable to sleep, ho rose and groped
for his clothes. But- they were outside the door,
according to rule.
lie had no resource but to walk about instead
of lying down.
Day broke at last : and he took his breakfast
quietly with tfie first-class patients. It consist-
ed of cool tea in small basins, instead of cups,
and table-spoons instead of tea-spoons; and
thick slices of stale bread thinly buttered. A
few ])atients had gruel or porridge instead of tea.
After breakfast Alfred sat in the first-class pa-
tient's room and counted the minutes and the
hours till Edward should come. After dinner
he counted the hours till tea-time. Nobody
came ; and he went to bed in such grief and
disappointment as some men live to eighty with-
ont ever knowing.
Bat when two o'clock came next day, and no
Edward, and no reply, then the distress of \\\a
soul deepened. He implored Mrs. Archbold to
tell him what was the cause. She shook her head
and said gravely, it was but too common ; a man*8
nearest and dearest were very apt to hold aloof
from him the moment he was put into an asylum.
Here an old lady put in her word. " Ah,
Sir, you must not hope to hear from any body
in this place. Why, I have been two years writ-
ing and writing, and can't get a line from my
own daughter. To be sure she is a fine lady
now, but it was her poor neglected mother that
pinched and pinched to give her a good educa-
tion, and that is how she caught a good husband.
But it's my belief the post in our hall isn't a
real post : but only a box ; and I think it is con-
trived so as the letters fall down a pipe into that
Baker's hands, and so then when the postman
comes "
The Archbold bent her bushy brows on this
chatty personage. " Be quiet, Mrs. Dent ; you
are talking nonsense, and exciting yourself: yon
know you are not to speak on that topic. Take
care."
The poor old woman was shut up like a knife ;
for the Archbold had a way of addressing her
own sex that crushed them. The change was
almost comically sudden to the mellow tones in
which she addressed Alfred the very next mo-
ment, on the very same subject: "Mr. Baker, I
believe, sees the letters: and, where our poor
patients (with a glance at Dent) write in such a
way as to wound and perhaps terrify those who
are in reality their best friends, it is not always
sent. But 1 conclude your letters have gone.
If you feel you can be calm, why not ask Mr.
Baker ? He is in the house now, for a wonder."
Alfred promised to be calm ; and she got him
an interview with Mr. Baker.
He was a full-blown pawnbroker of Silverton
town, whom the legislature, with that keen knowl.
edge of human nature which marks the British
senate, permitted, and still permits, to speculate
in Insanity, stipulating however that the upper
servant of all in his asylum should be a doctor;
but omitting to provide against the instant dis-
missal of the said doctor should he go and rob
his employer of a lodger by curing a patient.
As you'are not the Britisn legislature, I need
not tell you that to this pawnbroker insanity
mattered nothing, nor sanity : his trade lay in
catching, and keeping, and stinting, as many
lodgers, sane or insane, as he could hold.
There are certain formulae in these quiet re-
treats, which naturally impose upon green-horns
such as Alfred certainly was, and many visiting
justices and lunacy commissioners would seem
to be. Baker had*^ been a lodging-house keeper
for certified people many years, and knew all
the formulsB : some call them dodges : but these
must surely be vulgar minds.
Baker worked " the see-saw formula :"
* * Letters, young gentleman ?" said he : " they
are not in my department. They go into the
surgery, and are passed by the doctor, except
those he examines and orders to be detained."
Alfred demanded the doctor.
" He is gone," was the reply. (Formula.)
Alfred foimd it as hard to be calm as some
people find it easy to say the words over the
wrongs of others.
The next day, but not till the afternoon, he
caxLght X\vG ^ocxox \ ^^ Mn V^tters I Surely, Sir,
\ youViavftivoV.\iefcTL Wi w\iAa\i5i\n.\Kt^^*0esssL."
VERY HARD CASH.
165
"I intercept no letters," said the doctor, as
if scandalized at the very idea. **I see who
writes them, and hand them to Mr. Baker,* with
now and then a remark.' If any are detained,
the responsibility rests with him."
** He says it rests with you."
"You must have misunderstood him."
**Not at all, Sir. One thing is clear, my let-
ters have been stolen either by him or you, and
I will know which."
The doctor parried with a formula.
" You are excited, Mr. Hardie. Be calm. Sir,
be calm : or you will be here all the longer."
All Alfred obtained by this interview was a
powerful opiate. The head keeper brought it
him in bed. He declined to take it. The man
whistled, and the room filled with keepers.
** Now," said Cooper, **down with it, or you'll
have to be drenched with this cow-horn."
** You had better take it. Sir," said Brown ;
**the doctor has ordered it you."
"The doctor? Well, let me see the doctor
about it."
**He is gone."
" He never ordered it me, " said Alfred. Then
fixing his eyes sternly on Cooper, "You mis-
creants, you want to poison me. No, I will not
take it. Murder ! murder !"
Then ensued a struggle, on which I draw a
veil : but numbers won the day, with the help
of handcuffs and cow-horn.
Brown went and told Mrs. Archbold, and what
Alfred had said.
**Don*t be alarmed,'* said that strong-minded
lady : " it is only one of the old fool's composing
" draughts. It will spoil the poor boy's sleep for
one night, that is all. Go to him the first thing
in the morning."
About midnight Alfred was seized with a vio-
lent headache and fever: toward morning he
was light-headed, and Brown found him loud
and incoherent : only he returned often to an
expression Mr. Brown had never heard before
" Justifiable parricide. Justifiable parricide.
Justifiable parricide."
Most people dislike new phrases. Brown ran
to consult Mrs. Archbold about this one. After
the delay inseparable from her sex she came in a
morning wrapper ; and they found Alfred lean-
ing over the bed and bleeding violently at the
nose. They were a good deal alarmed, and
tried to stop it ; but Alfred was quite sensible
now, and told them it was doing him good.
** I can manage to see now," he said : " a lit-
tle while ago I was blind with the poison."
They unstrapped his ankle and made him
comfortable, and Mrs. Archbold sent Brown for
a cup of strong coffee and a glass of brandy.
He tossed them off, and soon after fell into a
deep sleep that lasted till tea-time. This sleep
the poor doctor ascribed to the sedative effect of
his opiate. It was the natural exhaustion con-
sequent on the morbid excitement caused by his
cursed opiate.
*' Brown, " said Mrs. Archbold, " if Dr. Bailey
prescribes again, let me know. He sha'n't square
this patient with his certificates while I am here."
This was a shrewd but uncharitable speech of
hers. Dr. Bailey was not such a villain as that.
He was a less depraved, and more dangerous,
animal ; he was a fool.
The farrago be bad administered would have
done an excited maniac no good of course, but
no great harm. It was dangerous to a sane
man : and Alfred to the naked eye was a sane
man. But then Bailey had no naked eye left :
he had been twenty years an M.D. . The certifi-
cates of Wycherley and Spears were the green
spectacles he wore ^very green ones whenever
he looked at Alfred Hardie.
Perhaps in time he will forget those certifi-
cates, and, on his spectacles dropping off, he
will see Alfred is sane. If he does, he will pub-
lish him as one of his most remarkable cures.
Meanwhile the whole treatment of this ill-
starred young gentleman gravitated toward in-
sanity. The inner mind was exasperated by
barefaced injustice and oppression ; above all,
by his letters being stopped ; for that convinced
him both Baker and Bailey, with their see-saw
evasions, knew he was sane, and dreaded a visit
from honest, understanding men : and the mind's
external organ, the brain, which an asylum pro-
fesses to soothe, was steadily undermined by art-
ificial sleeplessness. A man can't sleep in irons
tiJl he is used to them : and when Alfred was
relieved of these, his sleep was still driven away
by biting insects and barking dogs, two opiates
provided in many of these placid Retreats, with
a view to the permanence, rather than the com-
fort, of the lodgers.
On the eighth day Alfred succeeded at last in
an object he had steadily pursued for some time :
he caught the two see-saw humbugs together.
"Now," said he, "yow gay he intercepts my
letters, and he says it is you who do it. Which
is the truth ?"
They were staggered, and he followed up his
advantage : " Look me in the face, gentlemen,"
said he. " Can you pretend you do not know I
am sane ? Ah, you turn your heads away. You
can only tell this barefaced lie behind my back.
Do yon believe in God, and in a judgment to
come ? Then, if you can not release me, at least
don't be such scoundrels as to stop my letters,
and so swindle me out of a fair trial, an open,
public trial."
The doctor parried with a formula. * * Publici-
ty would be the greatest misfortune could befall
you. Pray be calm."
Now, an asylum is a place not entirely exempt
from prejudices : and one of them is that any
sort of appeal to God Almighty is a sign of else
forerunner of maniacal excitement.
These philosophers forget that by stopping
letters, evading public trials, and, in a word,
cutting off all appeals to human justice, they
compel the patient to turn his despairing eyes,
and lift his despairing voice to Him, whoso
eye alone can ever really penetrate these dark
abodes.
Accordingly the patient who appealed to God
above a whisper in Silverton Grove House used
to get soothed directly. And the tranquilizing
influences employed were morphia, croton oil, or
a blister.
The keeper came to Alfred in his room.
"Doctor has ordered a blister."
" What for ? Send for him directly."
" He is gone."
This way of ordering torture and then cool-
ly going irritated Alfcei^L \se^vA^ ^\A^sx'5^R5^.
166
VERY HARD CASH.
conple of his zealons attendants ; but, not hav-
ing room to work in, was soon overpowered,
hobbled and handcuffed : then they eut off his
hair, and put a large blister on the top of his
head.
The obstinate brute declined to go mad. They
began to respect him for this tenacity of pur-
pose ; a decent bedroom was allotted him ; his
portmanteau and bag were brought him, and he
was let walk every day on the lawn with a keeper,
only there were no ladders left about, and the
trap-door was locked ; i. e. the iron gate.
On one of these occasions he heard the gate-
keeper whistle three times consecutively; his
attendant followed suit, and hurried Alfred into
the house, which soon rang with treble signals.
" What is it ?" inquired Alfred.
**The visiting justices are in siglit: go into
your room, please."
** Yes, I'll go," said Alfred, affecting cheerful
compliance, and the man ran off.
The whole house was in a furious bustle. All
the hobbles, and chains, and instruments of re-
straint were hastily collected and bundled out
of sight, and clean sheets were being put on
many a filthy bed whoso occupant had never
slept in sheets since he came there, when two
justices arrived and were shown into the draw-
ing-room.
During the few minutes they were detained
there by Mrs. Archbold, who was mistress of her
whole business, quite a new face was put on ev-
ery thing and every body ; ancient cobwebs fell ;
soap and water explored unwonted territories;
the harshest attendants began practicing pleasant
looks and kind words on the patients, to get
into the way of it, so that it might not come
too abrupt and startle the patients visibly under
the visitors* eyes ; something like actors working
up a factitious sentiment at the wing for the pub-
lic display, or like a race-horse*8 preliminary can-
ter. Alfred's heart beat with joy inexpressiGle.
He had only to keep calm, and this was his last
day at Silverton Grove. The first thing he did
was to make a careful toilet.
The stinginess of relations, and the greed of
mad-house proprietors, makes many a patient
look ten times madder than he is, by means of
dress. Clothes wear out in an asylum, and are
not always taken off, though Agriculture has long
and j ustly claimed them for her own. And when
it is no longer possible to refuse the Reverend
Mad Tom or Mrs. Crazy Jane some new raiment,
then consanguineous munificence does not go to
Poole or Elise, but oftener to paternal or mater-
nal wardrobes, and even to the ancestral chest,
the old oak one, singing :
"Poor things, they are out of the world:
what need for them to be in the fashion !'* (Form-
ula.)
This arrangement keeps the bump of self-es-
teem down, especially in women, and so co-
operates with many other little arrangements
to perpetuate the lodger.
Silverton Grove, in particular, was supplied
with the grotesque in dress from an inexhausti-
ble source ; whenever money was sent Baker to
buy a patient a suit, he went from his lunacy shop
to his pawnbroker's, dived headlong into unre-
deemed pledges, dressed his patient as gentle-
laen are dressed to reside in cherry-trees ; and
pocketed five hundred per cent, on the donUe
transaction. Now Alfred had already observed
that many of the patients looked madder than
they were thanks to short trowsers and petti-
coats, holey gloves, ear-cutting shirt-collars,
frilled bosoms, shoes made for, and declined
by, the very infantry ; coats short in the waist
and long in the sleeves, coal-scuttle bonnets, and
grandmaternal cap^. So he made his toilet with
care, and put his best hat on to hide his shaven
crown. He then kept his door ajar, and waited
for a chance of speaking to the justices. One
soon came; a portly old gentleman, with a
rubicund face and honest eye, walked slowly
along the corridor, looking as wise as he could,
cringed on by Cooper and Dr. Bailey ; the latter
had arrived post-haste, and Baker had been sent
for. Alfred came out, touched his hat respect-
fully, and begged a private interview with the
magistrate. The old gentleman bowed politely,
for Alfred's dress, address, and countenance left
no suspicion of insanity possible in an unpreju-
diced mind.
But the Doctor whispered in his ear, "Take
care. Sir. Dangerous!"
!Now this is one of the most effective of the
formulae in a private asylum. How can an in-
experienced stranger know for certain that such
a statement is a falsehood ? and even the just do
not love justice to others quite so well as they
love their own skins. So Squire Tollett very
naturally declined a private interview with Al-
fred ; and even drew back a step, and felt un-
easy at being so near him. Alfred implored him
not to be imposed upon. " An honest man does
not whisper," said he. **Do not let him poison
your mind against mc ; on my honor I am as
sane as you are, and he knows iu Pray, pray
use your' own eyes and ears. Sir, and give your-
self a chance of discovering the truth in this
strong-hold of lies."
** Don't excite yourself, Mr. Hardie," pnt in
the Doctor, parentally. (Formula.)
"Don't you interrupt me, Doctor; I am as
calm as you are. Calmer; for, see, yon are pale
at this moment; that is with fear that your
wickedness in detaining a sane man here is
going to be exposed. Oh, Sir," said he, tam-
ing to the justice, "fear no violence from me,
not even angry words ; my misery is too deep
for irritation or excitement. I am an Oxford
man, Sir, a prize man, an Ireland scholar. Bot,
unfortunately for me, my mother left me ten
thousand pounds, and a heart I love a lady,
whose name I will not pollute by mentioning it
in this den of thieves. My father is the well-
known banker, bankrupt, and cheat, of Barking-
ton. He has wasted his own money, and now
covets his neighbor's and his son's. He had me
entrapped here on my wedding-day, to get hold
of my money, and rob me of her I love. I ap-
peal to you, Sir, to discharge me ; or, if yon have
not so much confidence in your own judgment
as to do that, then I demand a commisaon of
lunacy and a public inquiry."
Dr. Bailey said, "That would be a most un-
desirable exposure, both to yooiself and yoar
friends." (Formula.)
" It is only the guilty who fear the light, Sir,"
was the swift reply.
Mr. Toilet said he thought the patient had a
legal right to a commission of loiuu^ if there was
VERY HABD CASH.
167
property, and he took note of the application.
He then asked Alfred if he had any complaint
to make of the food, the beds, or the attendants.
"Sir,** said Alfred, "I leave those complaints
to the insane ones : with me the gigantic wrong
drives oat the petty worries. I can not feel my
stings for my deep wound."
" Oh, then, you admit you are not treated un-
hmdly here ?"
"I admit nothing of the kind, Sir. I merely
decline to incumber your memory with petty in-
juries, when you are good enough to inquire
into a monstrous one.**
"Now that is very sensible and considerate,**
said Mr. Tollett. "I will see you. Sir, again
before we leave.**
With this promise Alfred was obliged to be
content. He retired respectfully, and the jus-
tice said, **He seems as sane as J am.** The
Doctor smiled. The justice observed it, and
not aware that this smile was a formula, as
much so as a prize-fighter's or a ballet-dancer's,
began to doubt a little : he reflected a moment,
then asked who had signed the certificates.
" Dr. Wycherley for one."
"Dr. Wytjherley ? that is a great authority.**
" One of the greatest in the country, Sir.'*
" Oh then one would think he must be more
or less deranged.'*
*' Dangerously so at times. But in his lucid
intervals you never saw a more quiet, gentle-
manly creature.** (Formula.)
"How sad!**
" Very. He is my most interesting patient
(Formula), though terribly violent at times.
Would you like to see the medical journal
about him ?*'
"Yes; by-and-by."
The inspection then continued ; the inspector
admired the clean sheets that covered the beds,
all of them dirty, some filthy ; and asked the
more reasonable patients to speak freely and
say if they had any complaint to make. This
question being with the usual sagacity of public
inspectors put in the presence of Cooper and
the Doctor, who stuck to Tollett like wax, the
mad people all declared they were very kindly
treated: the reason they were so unanimous
was this ; they knew by experience that, if they
told the truth, the justices could not at once
remedy their discomforts ; whereas the keepers,
the veiT moment the justices left the house,
would knock them down, beat them, shake
them, strait -jacket them, and starve them:
and the Doctor, less merciful, would doctor
them. So they shook in their shoes, and vowed
they were very comfortable in Silverton Grove.
Thus, in later days, certain Commissioners
of Lunacy inspecting Accomb House, extracted
nothing from Mrs. Turner but that she was hap-
py and comfortable under the benignant sway of
Metcalf the mild there present. It was only
by a miracle the public learned the truth ; and
miracles are rare.
Meantime, Alfred had a misgiving. The
plausible Doctor had now Squire Tollett*8 ear,
and Tollett was old, and something about him
reminded the Oxonian of a trait his friend Hor-
ace had detected in old age :
Yel quod res omneto timid^ gelld6 que ministrat.
Dilator, epe loDgus, iners, etc.
He knew there was another justice in the house,
but he knew also he should not be allowed to
get speech with him, if by cunning or force it
could be prevented. He kept his door ajar.
Presently nurse Hannah came bustling along
with an apronful of things, and let herself into
a vacant room hard by. This Hannah was a
young woman with a pretty and rather babyish
face, diversified by a thick biceps muscle in her
arm that a blacksmith need not have blushed
for. And I suspect it was this masculine charm,
and not her feminine features, that had won her
the confidence of Baker and Co., and the re-
spect of his female patients; big or little, ex-
cited or not excited, there was not one of them
this bicipital baby-face could not pin by the
wrists, and twist her helpless into a strong room,
or handcufi^ her unaided in a moment ; and she
did it too, on slight provocation. Nurse Han-
nah seldom came into Alfred*s part of the house ;
but, when she did meet him, she generally gave
him a kind look in passing; and he had re-
solved to speak to her, and try if he could touch
her conscience, or move her pity. He saw what
she was at, but was too politic to detect her
openly and irritate her. He drew back a step,
and said, softly, "Nurse Hannah! Are you
there ?'*
" Yes, I am here," said she, sharply, and came
out of the room hastily; and shut it. "What
do you want. Sir?"
Alfred clasped his hands together. "If you
are a woman, have pity on me."
She was taken by surprise. "What can I
do?" said she, in some agitation. "I am only
a servant.**
"At least tell me where I can find the Visit-
ing Justice, before the keepers stop me."
"Hush! Speak lower," said Hannah. "You
have complained to one, haven't you ?"
"Yes. But he seems a feeble old fogy.
Where is the other? Oh, pray tell me.*'
"I mustn't; I mustn't. In the noisy ward.
There, run."
And run he did.
Alfred was lucky enough to get safe into the
noisy ward without being intercepted, and then
he encountered a sunburnt gentleman, under
thirty, in a riding-coat, with a hunting-whip in
his hand : it was Mr. Vane, a Tory squire and
large land-owner in the county.
Now, as Alfred entered at one door. Baker
himself came in at the other, and they nearly
met at Vane. But Alfred saluted him first,
and begged respectfully for an interview,
" Certainly, Sir," said Mr. Van6.
"Take care. Sir; he is dangerous," whisper-
ed Baker. Instantly Mr. Vane's countenance
changed. But this time Alfred overheard the
formula, and said, quietly : "Don't believe him.
Sir. I am not dangerous ; I am as sane as any
man in England. Pray examine me, and judge
for yourself."
" Ah, that is his delusion," said Baker.
"Come, Mr. Hardie, I allow you great liber-
ties, but you abuse them. You really must not
monopolize his Woi-ship with your fancies. Con-
sider, Sir, you are not the only patient he has to
examine."
Alfred*s heart sank ; he turned a look of silent
agony on Mr. Vane.
. Mr. Vane, either touched by that look, or ir-
ritated by Baker's pragmaticid interference, or
168
VERY HARD CASH.
perhaps both, looked that person coolly in the
face, and said, sternly: "Hold your tongue, Sir,
and let the gentleman speak to me/'
CHAPTER XXXVin.
Alfred thus encouraged told his story with
forced calmness, and without a word too much.
Indeed, so clear and telling was the narrative,
and the logic so close, that incoherent patients
one or two stole up and listened with wonder
and a certain dreamy complacency; the bulk,
however, held aloof apathetic ; being inextrica-
bly wrapped in fictitious Autobiography.
His story told, Alfred offered the Dodds in
evidence that the fourteen thousand pounds was
no illusion ; and referred to his sister and several
friends as witnesses to his sanity, and said the
letters he wrote were all stopped in the asylum ;
and why? That no honest man or woman might
know where he was.
He ended by convincing Mr. Vane he was a
sane and injured man, and his father a dark de-
signing person.
Mr. Vane asked him whether he had any other
revelations to make. Alfred replied, "Not on
my own account, but for the sake of those afflict-
ed persons who are here for life. Well, the beds
want repaying ; thevermin thinning ; the instru-
ments of torture want abolishing instead of hid-
ing for an hour or two when you happen to come ;
what do tlie patients gain by that? The mad-
men dare not complain to you. Sir ; because the
last time one did complain to the justices (it was
Mr. Petworth), they had no sooner passed through
the iron gate than Cooper made an example of
him ; felled him with his fist, and walked up and
down him on his knees, crying, * Pll teach you to
complain to the justices.* But one or two gentle-
manly madmen, who soon found out that I am
not one of them, have complained to me that the
attendants wash them too much like Hansom
cabs, strip them naked, and mop them on the
flag-stones, then fling on their clothes without
drying tlrem. They say, too, that the meat is
tough and often putrid, the bread stale, the
butter rancid, the vegetables stinted, since they
can't be adulterated, and as for sleep it is hardly
known ; for the beds are so short your feet stick
out ; insects, without a name to ears polite, but
highly odoriferous and profoundly carnivorous,
bite you all night ; and dogs howl eternally out-
side; and, when exhausted nature defies even
these enemies of rest, then the doctor, who seems
to be in the pay of Insanity, claps you on a
blister by brute force, and so drives away sleep,
Insanity's cure, or hocusses you by brute force
as he did me, and so steals your sleep, and tries
to steal your reason, with his opium, henbane,
morphia, and other tremendous brain-stealers.
With such a potion, Sir, administered by vio-
lence, he gave mo in one night a burning fever,
headache, loss of sight, and bleeding at the nose ;
as Mrs. Archbold will tell you. Oh, look into
these things, Sir, in pity to those whom God
has afflicted : to me they are but strokes with
a feather ; I am a sane man, torn from love and
happiness, and confined among the mad; dis-
comfort is nothing to me ; comfort is nothing ;
jrou COD do nothing for me, but restore me to
my dignity as a man, iny liberty as a Briton, and
the rights as a citizen I have been swindled out
of by a fraudulent bankrupt and his tools, two
venal doctors, who never saw me but for one
five minutes, but came to me ready bribed at a
guinea apiece, and so signed away my wits be-
hind my back.'*
** Now, Mr. Baker,'* said Vane, " what do yon
say to all this?"
Baker smiled with admirable composure, and
replied with crafty moderation, **He is a gentle-
man, and believes every word he says ; but it is
all his delusions. Why, to begin, Sir, his father
has nothing to do with putting him in here;
nothing on earth. (Alfred started ; then smiled
incredulous.) And in the next place, there are
no instruments of restraint here but two pair of
handcufiis and two strait-jackets, and these never
hardly used ; we trust to the padded rooms, yon
know. And Sir," said he, getting warm, which
instantly aflected his pronunciation, " if there's
a hinsect in the 'ouse, I'll heat 'im.*'
Delusion is a big word, especially in a mad-
house ; it overpowers a visitor's understanding.
Mr. Vane was staggered. Alfred, whose eager
eyes were never off^ his face, saw this with dis-
may, and feeling that if he failed in the simpler
matter he should be sure to fail in establishing
his sanity, he said with inward anxiety, though
with outward calmness, '^Suppose we test these
delusions ?**
" With all my heart,'* said Vane.
Baker's countenance fell.
** Begin with the instruments of restraint.
Find me them."
Baker's countenance brightened np; he had
no fear of their being found.
" I will," said Alfred ; " please to follow me."
Baker grinned with anticipated triumph.
Alfred led the way to a bedroom near his own,
and asked Mr. Baker to unlock it. Baker had
not the key; no more had Cooper; the latter
was sent for it ; he returned, saying the key wag
mislaid.
" That I expected, " said Alfred. * ' Send for
the kitchen poker, Sir; I'll soon unlock it.**
"Fetch the kitchen poker," said Vane.
' " Good gracious, Sir 1 " said Cooper ; ** he only
wants that to knock all our brains out. Yoa
have no idea of his strength and ferocity.'*
" Well lied, CooiKjr," said Alfred, ironically,
"Fetch me the poker," said Vane.
Cooper went for it, and came back with the
key instead.
The door was opened, and they all entered.
Alfred looked under the bed. The rest stood
round it.
There was nothing to be seen but a year's
dust.
Alfred was dumbfoundered, and a cold per-
spiration began to gather on his brow. He saw
at once a false move would be fatal to him.
" Well, Sir,'* said Vane, grimly. ** Where are
they?'*
Alfred caught sight of a small cupboard ; he
searched it ; it was empty. Baker and Cooper
grinned at his delusion, quietly, but so that Vane
might see that formula. Alfred returned to the
bed and shook it. Cooper and Baker left off
grinning ; Alfred*s quick eye caught this and he
shook the bed violently, furiously.
"Ah!" said Mr. Vane, I hear a chink.''
VERY HARD CASH.
169
'*It is an iron bedstead, and old," suggested
Baker.
Alfred tore off the bed-clothes, and then the
mattress. Below the latter was a frame-work,
and below the frame-work a receptacle about six
inches deep, five feet long, and three broad, filled
with chains, iron belts, wrist-locks, muffles, and
screw-locked hobbles, etc. ; a regular Inquisi-
tion.
If Baker had descended from the Eemble fam-
ily, instead of rising from nothing, he could not
have acted better. " Grood Heavens!" cried he,
"where do these come from? They must have
been left here by the last proprietor."
Vane replied only by a look of contempt, and
ordered Cooper to go and ask Mr. Tollett to
come to him.
Alfred improved the interval. " Sir, " said he,
"all my delusions, fairly tested, will turn out
like this."
" They shall be tested, Sir ; I give you my
woi-d."
Mr. Tollett came, and the two justices com-
menced a genuine scrutiny ; their first. They
went now upon the true method, in which all
these dark places ought to be inspected. They
did not believe a word; they suspected every
thing; they examined patients apart, detected
cruelty filth and vermin under philanthropic
phrases and clean linen; and the upshot was
they reprimanded Baker and the attendants se-
verely, and told him his license should never be
renewed, unless at their next visit the whole asy-
lum was reformed. They ordered all the iron
body-belts, chains, leg-locks, wrist-locks, and
muffs to be put into Mr. Toilet's carriage, and
concluded a long inspection by inquiring into
Alfred's sanity; at this inquiry they did not
allow Baker to be even present, but only Dr.
Bailey.
First they read the order ; and found it really
was not Alfred's father who had put him into
the Asylum. Then they read the certificates,
especially Wycherley's ; it accused Alfred of
headache, insomnia, nightly visions, a rooted
delusion (pecuniary), a sudden aversion to an
affectionate father; and at the doctor's last visit,
a wild look (formula), great excitement, and
threats of violence without any provocation to
justify them. This overpowered the worthy
squires* understandings, to begin. But they
proceeded to examine the three books an asy-
lum has to keep by law ; the visitor's book, the
case book, and the medical journal. All these
were kept with the utmost looseness in Silver-
ton House ; as indeed they are in the very best
of these places. However, by combining the
scanty notices in the several books, they arrived
at this total.
Admitted April 11. Had a very wild look,
and was much excited. Attempted suicide by
throwing himself into a tank. Attacked the
keepers, for rescuing him, with prodigious
strength and violence. Befused food.
And some days after came an entry with his
initials instead of his name, which was contrary
to law. ** A. H. Much excited. Threats. Or-
dered composing draught.'*
And a day or two after, " A. H. excited. Blas-
phemous. Ordered blister.*'
The first entry, however, was enough. The
doctor had but seen real facts through his green
spectacles, and lol "suicide,'* "homicide," and
I "refusal of food," three cardinal points of true
mania.
I Mr. Vane asked Dr. Bailey whether ho was
better since he came.
"Oh, infinitely better," said Dr. Bailey.
"We hope to cure him in a month or two."
They then sent for Mrs. Archbold, and had a
long talk with her, recommending Alfred to her
especial care : and, having acted on his judg-
ment and information in the teeth of those who
called him insane, turned tail at a doctor's cer-
tificate ; distrusted their eyesight at an unsworn
affidavit.
Alfred was packing up his things to go away,
bright as a lark. Mrs. Archbold came to him,
and told him she had orders to give him every
comfort ; and the justices hoped to liberate him
at their next visit.*'
The poor wretch turned pale. " At their next
visit!'* he cried. " What, not to-day ? When
is their next visit ?"
Mrs. Archbold hesitated : but at last she said,
" Why you know ; I told you ; they come four
times every year."
The disappointment was too bitter. The con-
temptible result of all his patience, self-com-
mand, and success, was too heart-breaking. He
groaned aloud. "And you can come with a
smile and tell me that; you cruel woman."
Then he broke down altogether and burst out
crying. ** You were born without a heart,'* ho
sobbed.
Mrs. Archbold quivered at that. * I wish I
had been," said she, in a strange, soft, moving
voice ; then, casting an eloquent look of reproach
on him, she went away in visible agitation, and
left him sobbing. Once out of his sight she
rushed into the nearest room, and there, taking
no more notice of a gentle madwoman, its occu-
pant, than of the bed or the table, she sank into
a chair, and, throwing her head back with wo-
manly abandon, laid her hand upon her bosom
that heaved tempestuously.
And soon the tears trickled out of her imperi-
ous eyes, and ran unrestrained.
The mind of Edith Archbold corresponded
with her powerful frame and bushy brows. In-
side this woman all was vigor ; strong passions,
strong good sense to check or hide them ; strong
will to carry them out. And between these
mental forces a powerful struggle was raging.
She was almost impenetrable to mere personal
beauty, and inclined to despise early youth in
the other sex ; and six months spent with Al-
fred in a quiet country house would probably
have left her reasonably indifferent to him. But
the first day she saw him in Silverton House he
broke through her guard, and pierced at once to
her depths; first he terrified her by darting
through the window to escape ; and terror is a
passion. So is pity ; and never in her life had
she ovei'flowed with it as w^en she saw him
drawn out of the tank and laid on the grass.
If, after all, he was as sane as he looked, that
brave high-spirited young creature, who pre-
ferred death to the touch of coarse confining
hands !
No sooner had he filled her with dismay and
Eity than he bounded from the ground before
er eyes and fled : she Areamed, and hoped he
would escape ; she could not help it. Next she
170
VERY HARD CASH.
saw him fighting alone against seven or eight,
and with unheard-of prowess almost boating
them. She sat at the window panting, with
clenched teeth and hands, and wished him to
beat, and admired him, wondered at him. He
yielded, but not to them : to her. All the com-
pliments she had ever received were tame com-
pared with this one. It thrilled her vanity. He
was like the men she had read of, and never seen ;
the young knights of chivalry. She glowed all
over at him, and detecting herself in time was
frightened. Her strong good sense warned her
to beware of this youth, who was nine years her
junior, yet had stirred her to all her depths in
an hour ; and not to see him nor think of him
too much. Accordingly she kept clear of him
altogether at first ; pity soon put an end to that ;
and she protected and advised him, but with a
cold and lofty demeanor put on express. What
with her kind acts and her cold manner he did
not know what to make of her ; and often turned
pazzled earnest eyes upon her, as much as to
say, are you really my friend or not ? Once she
forgot herself, and smiled so tenderly in answer
to these imploring eyes, that his hopes rose very
high indeed. He flattered himself she would let
him out of the asylum before long. That was
all Julia's true-lover thought of.
A feeling hidden, and not suppressed, often
grows fast in a vigorous nature. Mrs. Arch-
bold's fancy for Alfred was subjected to this
dangerous treatment; and it smouldered, and
smouldered, till from a penchant it warmed to a
fancy, from a fancy to a passion. But pen-
chant, fancy, or passion, she hid it with such
cunning and resolution, that neither Alfred nor
even those of her own sex saw it ; nor did a
creature even suspect it, except Nurse Hannah ;
but her eyes were sharpened by jealousy, for
that muscular young virgin was beginning to
sigh for him herself, with a gentle timidity that
contrasted prettily with her biceps muscle and
prowess against her own sex.
Mrs. Archbold had more passion than tender-
ness, but what woman is not to be surprised and
softened ? When her young favorite, the great-
est fighter she had ever seen, broke down at the
end of his gallant effort and began to cry like a
girl, her bowels of compassion yearned within
her, and she longed to cry with him. She only
saved herself from some imprudence by flight,
and had her cry alone. After a flow of tears
such a woman is invincible. She treated Alfred
at tea-time with remarkable coldness and re-
serve. This piece of acting led to unlooked-for
consequences : it emboldened Cooper, who was
raging against Alfred for telling the justices, but
had forborne from violence, for fear of getting
the house into a fresh scrape. He now went to
the doctor, and asked for a powerful drastic ;
Bailey gave him two pills, or rather boluses,
containing croton-oil inter alia; for Bailey
was one of the farraginous fools of the unscien-
tific science. Armed with this weapon of de-
struction. Cooper entered Alfred's bedroom at
night, and ordered him to take them: he re-
fused. Cooper whistled, and four attendants
came. Alfred knew he should soon be power-
less ; he lost no time, sprang at Cooper, and
with his long arm landed a blow that knocked
him against the wall, sM in this position, where
liis body could not give, struck him again with
his whole soul, and cut his cheek right open.
The next minute he was ])inued, handcuffed,
and in a strait-jacket, after crippling one assail-
ant with a kick on the knee.
Cooper, half stunned, and bleeding like a pig,
recovered himself now, and burned for revenge.
He uttered a frightful oath, and jumped on Al-
fred as he lay bound and powerless, and gave
him a lesson he never forgot.
Every art has its secrets: the attendants in
such mad-houses as this have been for years pos-
sessed of one they are too modest to revead to
justices, commissioners, or the public : the art of
breaking a man's ribs, or breast-bone, or both,
without bruising him externally. The convicts
at Toulon arrive at a similar result by another
branch of the art ; they stuffs the skin of a con-
ger eel with powdered stone ; then give the ob-
noxious person a sly crack with it ; and a rib or
back-bone is broken, with no contusion to mark
the external violence used. But Mr. Cooper and
his fellows do their work with the knee-joint : it
is round, and leaves no bruise. They subdue the
patient by walking up and down him on their
knees. If they don't jump on him a3 well as
promenade him, the man's spirit is often the
only thing broken ; if they do, the man is apt
to be broken bodily as well as mentally. Thus
died Mr. Sizer in 1854, and two others quite re-
cently. And how many more God only knows ;
we can't count the stones at the bottom of a well.
Cooper then sprang furiously on Alfred, and
went kneeling up and down him. Cooper was a
heavy man, and his weight crushed and hurt the
victim's legs ; but that was a trifle ; as often as
he kneeled on Alfred's chest, the crushed one's
whole frame-work seemed giving way, and he
could scarcely breathe. Cooper warmed to his
work, and kneeled hard on Alfred's face. Then
Cooper jumped knees downward on his face.
Then Cooper drew back and jumped savagely
on his chest. Then Alfred felt his last hour was
come : he writhed aside, and Cooper missed him
this time and overbalanced himself; the two fa-
ces came together for a moment, and Alfred,
fighting for his life, caught Cooper with his
teeth by the middle of the nose, and bit clean
through the cartilage with a shrill snarl. Then
Cooper shrieked, and writhed, and whirled his
great arras like a wind-mill, punching at Alfred's
head. Now man is an animal at bottom, and a
wild animal at the very bottom. Alfred ground
his teeth together in buII-dog silence till they
quite met, and with his young strong neck and
his despair shook that great hulking fellow as a
terrier shakes a cat, still grinding his teeth to-
gether in bull-dog silence. The men struck him,
shook him, in vain. At last they got hold of
his throat and choked him, and so parted the
furious creatures : but not before Mrs. ArchbolJ
and nurses Jane and Hannah had rushed into the
room, drawn by Cooper's cries. The first thing
the new-comers did was to scream in unison at
the sight that met them. On the bed lay Alfred
all but insensible, his linen and his pale face
spotted with his persecutor's blood. Upon him
kneeled the gory ruffian swearing oaths to set
the hair on end.
**I'll stop your biting forever," said he, and
raised a ponderous fist : and in one moment mora
Alfred would have been disfigured for life, but
Brown caught Cooper's arm, and Mrs. Archbold
VERY HARD CASH.
171^
said sharply to the nurses *' Handcuffs !'* and the
three women pinned him simuhancously, and,
taking him half bj surprise, handcuffed him in
a moment with a strength, sharpness, skill, and
determination not to be found in women out
of a mad-house luckily for the newspaper hus-
bands.
The other keepers looked astounded at this
roaster-stroke ; but, as no servant had ever af-
fronted Mrs. Archbold without being dismissed
directly, they took their cue and said, "We ad-
vised him, ma'am, but he would not listen to us."
"Cooper," said Mrs. Archbold as soon as she
recovered her breath, "you are not fit for your
place. To-morrow you go, or I go."
Cooper, cowed in a moment by the handcuffs,
began to whine and say that it was all Alfred's
fault. "Look at my nose."
But Mrs. Archbold was now carried away by
two passions instead of one, and they were to-
gether too much for prudence ; she took a hand-
ful of glossy locks out of her bosom and shook
them in Cooper's face :
"You monster!" said she; "you should go
for that^ if you were my own brother."
The two young nurses assented loudly, and
tnmed and cackled at Cooper for cutting oft'
such lovely hair.
He shrugged his shoulders at them, and said
sulkily to Mrs. Archbold, "Oh, I didn't know.
Of course, if you have fallen in love with him,
my cake is burnt. Tisn't the first lunatic you
have taken for your fancy man."
At this brutal speech, all the more intolerable
for not being quite false, Mrs. Archbold turned
ashy pale, and looked round for a weapon to
strike him dead ; but found none so handy and
so deadly as her tongue.
"It's not the first you have tried to mur-
der," said she. "I know all about that death
in Calton Retreat ; you kept it dark before the
coroner, but it is not too late, I'll open the
world's eyes ; I was only going to dismiss you,
Sir : but you have insulted me. I'll hang you
in reply."
Cooper turned very pale, and was silent ; his
tongue clove to the roof of his mouth.
But a feeble, unexpected voice issued from
the bed and murmured cheerfully, though with
some difficulty, a single word :
"Justice!"
At an expression so out of place they all start-
ed with surprise.
Alfred went on : "You are putting the saddle
on the wrong horse. The fault lies with those
villains Baker and Bailey. Cooper is only a
servant, you know, and obeys orders."
"What business had the wretch to cut your
hair off?" said Mrs. Archbold, turning on Alfred
with flashing eyes. Her blood once up, she was
ready to quarrel even with him for taking part
against himself.
"Because he was ordered to put on a blister,
and hair must come off before a blister can go
on," replied Alfred, soberly.
" That is no excuse for him beating you and
trying to break your front teeth."
She didn't mind so much about his side-ribs.
" No," replied Alfred. " But I hit him first.
And then I bit him, like an Irish savage : look at
the bloke's face ! Dear Mrs. Ai*chbold, you are
my best friend in this horrid place, and you have
beautiful eyes, and, talk of teeth, look at yours !
but you haven't much sense of justice : forfeive
me for saying so. Tut the proposition into signs ;
there's nothmg like that for clearing away prej-
udice. B. and C. have a scrimmage : B. begins
it, C. gets the worst of it ; in comes A. and turns
away C, Is that justice ? It is me you ought
to turn away ; and I wish to Heaven you would :
dear Mrs. Archbold, do pray turn me away, and
keep the other blackguard."
At this extraordinary, and, if I maybe allowed
the expression, Alfredian speech, the men first
stared, and then laughed; the women smiled,
and then were nearer crying than laughing.
And so it was that justice, handcuffed, strait-
jacketed, blistered, and impartial, sent from its
bed of torture a beam through Cooper's tough
hide to his inner heart. He hung his head and
stepped toward Alfred: "You're what I call a
man," he said. " I don't care a curse whether I
stay or go, after what she has said to me. But,
come what may, you're a gentleman, and one as
can puthisself in a poor man's place. Why, Sir, I
wasn't always so rough ; but I have been twenty
years at it ; and mad folk they'd wear the patience
out of Jove, and the milk of human kindness out
of saints and opossums. However, if I was to
stay here all my life, instead of going to-morrow,
I'd never lift hand to trouble you again, for you
taking my part again yourself like th^."
" I'll put that to the test," said Mrs. Archbold,
sharply. "Stay on your probation. Han-
nah!"
And Baby-face biceps at a look took off his
handcuffs, which she had been prominent in
putting on.
This extraordinary scene ended in the men
being dismissed, and the women remaining and
going to work after their kind.
"The bed is too short for one thing," said
Hannah. "Look at his poor feet sticking out,
and cold as a stone : just feel of them, Jane."
"No, no; murder!" cried Alfred; "that
tickles."
Hannah ran for a chair, Jane for another
pillow. Mrs. Archbold took off his handcuffs,
and, passing her hand softly and caressingly
over his head, lamented the loss of his poor hair.
Among them they relieved him of his strait-
jacket, set up his head, covered his feet, and he
slept like a top for want of drastics and opiates,
and in spite of some brilliant charges by the
Liliputian cavalry.
After this the attendants never molested Al-
fred again ; nor did the doctor : for Mrs. Arch-
bold got his boluses, and sent them up to a fa-
mous analyzing chemist in London, and told
him she had ; and said, "I'll thank you not to
prescribe at random for that patient any more.'*
He took the lady's prescription, coming as it
did in a voice quietly grim, and with a moment-
ary but wicked glai|pe shot from unij^r her black
brows.
Alfred was all the more miserable at his con-
finement : his melancholy deepened now there
was no fighting to excite him. A handsome
bright young face clouded with sadness is very
pitiable, and I need not say that both the women
who had fallen in love with him had their eyes,
or at least the tails of their eyes, forever ^n his
face. The result varied with the characters of
the watchers. That young face, ever &Qd^^fiAi!k&
172
VERY HAED CASH.
Mrs. Archbold sigh, and long to make him hap-
py under her wing. How it wrought on the
purer and more, womanly Hannah will be re-
?ealed by the incident I have to relate. Alfred
was sitting on a bench in the corridor, bowed
down by grief, and the Archbold lurking in a
room hard by, feasting her eyes on him through
an aperture in the door caused by the inspection
plate being under repair ^when an erotic maniac
was driven past. She had obtained access with
marvelous cunning ^to the men's side ; but was
now coming back with a flea in her ear, and
faster than she went ; being handcuffed and pro-
pelled by Baby-face biceps. On passing the
disconsolate Atfred the latter eyed him coyly,
gave her stray sheep a coarse push as one
pushes a thifu; ^and laid a timid hand, gentle
as falling down, upon the rougher sex. Con-
trast sudden and funny.
" Don't be so sad. Sir," she murmured, cooing
like the gentlest of doves. "I can't bear to see
you look like that."
Alfred looked up, and met her full with his
mournful, honest eyes. " Ah, Hannah, how can
I be any thing but sad, imprisoned here, sane
among the mad ?"
" WefT, and so am I, Sir : so is Mrs. Archbold
herself."
"Ay, but you have not been entrapped, im-
prisoned, on your wedding-day. I can not even
get a word sent to my Julia, my wife that ought
to be. Only think of the affront they have made
me put on her I love better, ten times better,
than myself. Why, she must have been wait-
ing for me humiliated perhaps by my absence.
What will she think of me ? The rogues will
tell her a thousand lies : she is very high-spirit-
ed, Hannah, impetuous like myself, only so gen-
tle and so good ; oh, my angel ; my angel ; I
shall lose you forever."
Hannah clasped her hands, with tears in her
eyes: **No, no," she cried, "it is a burning
shame to part true- lovers like you and her.
Hush ! speak low. Brown told me you are as
well as he is."
"God bless him for it, then."
"You have got money, they say: try it on
with Brown.*'
" I will. Oh you darling. What is the mat-
ter?"
For Baby-face was beginning to whimper.
" Oh, nothing, Sir ; only you are so glad to
go ; and we shall be sorry to part with you : but
you won't care for that oh, oh, oh !"
"What, do you think I shall forget you and
your kindness ? Never : I'll square accounts with
friends and foes ; not one shall be forgotten."
"Don't offer me any of your money," sobbed
Hannah ; " for I wouldn't touch it. Good-by,"
said she : "I sha'n't have as much as a kiss for
it, I'll be bound : good-by," said she again, and
never moved-
"Oh, won't you, though," cried Alfred, gayly.
"What is that? and that? and that? Now,
what on earth are you crying about? Dry your
tears, you dear good-hearted girl: no, I'll dry
them for you."
He took out a white handkerchief and mopped
Aer cheeks gently for her, and gave her a parting
kiss; 'but the Archbold's patience was exhaust-
ed; a door opened nearly opposite, and there she \\ie a\iTiTv\L ^totq. \\,. ^'^ MV. a
stood yellow with jealowiy, and sombre as n\g;ht\bT\bVas'BQft\i^\j\3Wa^^r?wiX.Vi
with her ebon brows. At sight of this lowering
figure Hannah uttered a squawk, and fled with
cheeks red as fire. Alfred, not aware of Mrs.
Archbold's smouldering passion, and little dream-
ing that jealous anguish and rage stood incar-
nate before him, burst out laughing like a mis-
chievous boy ; on this she swept upon him, and
took him by both shoulders, and awed him with
her lowering brows close to his. "You un-
grateful wretch," she said, violently, and panted.
His color rose. "Ungrateful? That I am
not, madam. Why do you call me so ?"
"You are; you are. What have I done to
you that you nin from me to the very servants ?
However, she shall be packed off this very night,
and you to thank for it."
This was the way to wound the generous
youth. " Now it is you that are ungenerous,"
he said. "What harm has the poor girl done ?
She had a virtuous movement, and pitied me
for the heartless fraud I suffer by ; that is all
Pray do you never pity me ?"
" Was it this virtuous movement set her kiss-
ing you?" said the Archbold, clenching her
teeth as if the word stung her, like the sight.
" She didn't, now," said Alfred ; "it was I
kissed her."
" And yet you pretend to love your Julia so
truly?"
"This is no place for that sacred name, mad-
am. But be sure I have no secrets from her,
and kiss nobody she would not kiss herself."
" She must be a very accommodating young
lady."
At this insult Alfred rose pale with anger, and
was about to defy his monitor mortally ; but the
quick-witted woman saw and disarmed him ; in
one moment, before ever he could speak, she was
a transformed creature, a penitent ; she put her
hands together supplicatingly, and murmured,
"I didn't mean it; I respect^; and your
love for her : forgive me, Alfred : I am so un-
happy, oh forgive me."
And behold she held his hand between her
soft, burning palms, and her proud head sank
languidly on his shoulder, and the inevitable
tears ran gently.
Morals apart, it was glorious love-making.
" Bother the woman," thought Alfred.
"Promise me not to do it again," she mur-
mured, "and the girl shall stay."
*'0h. Lord, yes, I promise; though I can't
see what it matters to you."
"Not much, cruel boy, alas ! But it matters
to her. For " She kissed Alfred's hand gen-
tly, and rose to her feet and moved away, but *
at the second step turned her head sudden as a
bird and finished her sentence " if you kiss
her before me, I shall kill her before you."
Here was a fresh complication I The men had
left off blistering, torturing, and bullying him ;
but his guardian angels, the women, were turn-
ing up their sleeves to pull caps over him, and
plenty of the random scratches would fSall on
him. If any thing could have made him pine
more to be out of the horrid place this voluptu-
ous prospect would. He hunted every w^iaretiDr
Brown. But he was away the day ^ ' "
tient. At night he lay awake fbr a I
thmkitvg how he should open
- " - t
VERY HARD CASH.
178
As Hantiah had ori^nated the idea, he thoaght
he might very well ask her to do the dirty work
of bribing Brown, and ho would pay her for it ;
only in money, not kisses. With this resolution
he sank to sleep ; and his spirit broke prison :
he stood with Julia before the altar, and the
priest made them one. Then the church and
the company and daylight disappeared, and her
own sweet, low, moving voice came thrilling :
"My own, own, own," she murmured, "I love
you ten times more for all you have endured for
me;" and with this her sweet lips settled like
the dew on his.
Impartial sleep flies at the steps of the scaifold
and the gate of Elysium : so Alfred awoke at
the above. But doubted whether he was quite
awake ; for two lips were fastened on his, like
velvety leeches, and a heart beat furiously on
his shoulder. He stirred directly, and somebody
was gone like the wind, with a rustle of flying
petticoats, and his door shut in a moment; it
closed with a catch-lock ; his dastardly assailant
had opened it with her key, and left it open to
make good her retreat if he should awake while
she was stealing what she came after. Alfred
sat up in bed indignant, and somewhat fluttered.
* * Confound her impudence, " said he. But there
was no help for it; he grinned and bore it, as
he had the blisters, and boluses, etc., rolled the
clothes round his shoulders, and off to the sleep
of the just again. Not so the passionate hypo-
crite, who, maddened by a paroxysm of jealousy,
had taken this cowardly advantage of a prisoner.
She had sucked fresh poison from those honest
lips, and filled her veins with molten fire. She
tossed and turned the livelong night in a high
fever of passion, nor were the cold chills wanting
of shame and fear at what she had done.
In the morning, Alfred remembered this sub-
stantial vision, and determined to find out which
of those two it was. "I shall know by her
looks, " said he ; "she won't be able to meet my
eye." Well, the first he saw was Mrs. Archbold.
She met his eye full with a mild and pensive dig-
nity. **Come, it is not you," thought Alfred.
Presently he fell in with Hannah. She wore a
serene, infantine face, the picture of unobtrusive
modesty. Alfred was dumbfoundered. "It's
not this one, either," said he. " But, then, it
must. Confound her impudence for looking so
modest." However, he did not speak to her;
he was looking out for a face that interested him
far more: the weather-beaten countenance of
Giles Brown. He saw him once or twice, but
could not get him alone till the afternoon. He
invited him into his room : and when he got him
there, lost no time. ** Just look me in the face.
Brown, ",said he, quietly. Brown looked him in
the face.
"Now, Sir, am I mad or sane?"
Brown turned his head away. Alfred laughed.
"No, no, none of your tricks, old fellow: look
me in the face while you answer.'*
The man colored. * * I can't look a gentleman
like you in the face and tell him he is mad.'*
"I should think not. Well, now ; what shall
I give you to help me escape ?"
" Hush ! don't mention that, Sir ; it's as much
as my place is worth even to listen to you."
"Good! then I must give you as much as
your place is worth. Please to. calculate that,
and naioe the Ggnre, "
" My place ! I wouldn't lose it for a hundred
pounds."
"Exactly. Then Til give you a hundred
guineas."
"And how am I to get my money, Sir?"
"The first time you are out, come to Albion
Villa, in Barkington, and Til have it all ready
for you."
"And suppose you were to say, *No: yon
didn't ought ever to have been confined?' "
" I must trouble you to look in my face again,
Mr. Brown. Now, do you see treason, bad faith,
avarice, ingratitude, rascality in it?"
'"Not a grain of 'em," said Brown, with an
accent of conviction. "Well, now, I'll tell you
the truth ; I can read a gent by this time : and
I'm no more afeared for the money than if I had
it in my hand. But ye see my stomach won't
let me do it."
This was a sad disappointment: so sudden,
too. "Your stomach?" said he, ruefully.
"What do you mean?"
"Ay, my stomach. Wouldn't your stomach
rise against serving a man that had done you the
worst turn one man can do another been and
robbed you of your sweet-heart ?"
Alfred stared with amazement.
Brown continued, and now with some emo-
tion: "Hannah Blake and I were very good
friends till you came, and I was thinking of ask-
ing her to name the day ; but now she wont
look at me. * Don't come teasing me,' says she,
* I am meat for your master.' It's you that have
turned the girl's head. Sir."
"Bother the women!" said Alfred, cordially.
" Oh, what plagues they are ! And how unjust
you are, to spite me for the fault of another.
Can I help the fools from spooning upon me ?"
He reflected a moment, then burst out : "Brown,
you are a duffer a regular duffer. What, don't
you see your game is to get me out of the place ?
If you do, in forty-eight hours I shall be married
to my Julia, and that dumpling-faced girl will
be cured. But if you keep me here, by Cree,
Sir, I'll make hot love to your Hannah, boiling
hot, hotter than ever was out of the isles of
Greece. Oh ! do help me out, and I'll give you
the hundred pounds, and I'll give Hannah an-
other hundred pounds, on condition she marries
you ; and, if she won't marry you, she sha'n't
have a farthing, only a good hiding."
Brown was overpowered by his maniac's logic.
* * You have a head," said he ; " there's my hand ;
I'll go in, if I die for it."
They now put their heads together over the
means. Brown's plan was to wait, and wait, for
an opportunity. Alfred's was to make one this
very night.
"But how can I?" said Brown. "I sha'n't
have the key of your room. I am not on watch
in your part to-night."
"Borrow Hannah's."
* * Hannah's ? She has got no key of the male
patients' rooms."
"Oh yes, she has; of mine, at all events."
"What makes you think that. Sir?" said
Brown, suspiciously.
Alfred didn't know what to say : he could not
tell him why he felt sure she had a key.
"Just go quietly and owLliftx ^ort^' ^'^^V'^.v
174
VERY HARD CASH.
with the key of the vacant bedroom; where the
hobbles and chains were hidden on arrival of the
justices.
" She tells me this is the only key she has of
any room in this corridor. BA dear heart,"
said Brown, "how quick-sighted the women are.
She said, says she, *if it is to bring sorrowful
true-lovers together again, Giles, or the like of
that, I'll try and gelt the key you want off Mrs.
Archbold's bunch, though I get the sack for it,'
says she. * I know she leaves them in the parlor
at night,* says Hannah. She is a trump, you
must allow.*'
Alfred colored up. He suspected he had been
unjust.
"She is a good, kind, single-hearted girl,*'
said he, "and neither of you shall find me un-
grateful."
It was evident, by the alacrity Brown now
showed, that he had got his orders from Hannah.
It was agreed that Alfred should lie down at
night in his clothes, ready to seize the right mo-
ment; that Hannah should get the key, and
watch the coast clear, and let him out into the
corridor; and Brown get him down by a back
stairs, and out on the lawn. There he would
find a ladder close by the wall, and his own arms
and legs must do the rest.
And now Alfred was a changed creature : his
eye sparkled; he walked on air, and already
sniffed the air of liberty.
After tea Brown brought in some newspapers,
and made Alfred a signal, previously agreed on,
that the ladder was under the east wall. He
went to bed early, put on his tweed shooting-
jacket and trowsers, and lay listening to the
clock with beating heart.
At first feet passed to and fro from time to
time. These became less frequent as the night
wore on.
Presently a light foot passed, stopped at the
door, and made a sharp scratch on it with some
metal instrument.
., It was the key. The time was not ripe to use
it, but good Hannah had taken this way to let
him know she had got it.
This little scratch outside his door, oh it made
his heart leap and thrill. One great difficulty
was overcome. He waited, and waited, but with
glowing, hopeful heart ; and at last a foot came
swiftly, the key turned, and Hannah opened the
door. She had a bull's-eye lantern.
"Take your shoes in your hand," she whis-
pered, "and follow me."
He followed her. She led him in and out, to
the door of the public room belonging to the
second-class patients. Then she drew her whis-
tle, and breathed very softly. Brown answered
as softly from the other end. He was waiting
at the opposite door.
"All right," said she; "the dangerous part
is over." She put a key into the door, and said,
very softly, "Good-by.**
"God bless you, Hannah," said Alfred, with
deep emotion. "God in heaven bless you for
this."
" He will, he does," said the single-hearted
girl, and put her other hand to her breast with
a great gulp. She opened the door slowly.
** Good-by, dear. I shall never see you again.**
And so these two parted; for Hannah, could
not bear the sight of Giles at that moment. He
was welcome to Alfred though, most welcome,
and conducted him by devious ways to the kitch-
en, lantern in hand.
He opened the kitchen door softly, and saw
two hurley strangers seated at a table, eating
with all their souls, and Mrs. Archbold standing
before the fire, but looking toward him : for she
had heard his footsteps ever so far offl
The men looked up, and saw Alfred. They
rose to their feet, and said, "This will be the
gentleman, madam?"
"Yes," said Mrs. Archbold.
"Your servant. Sir," said the men, very civ-
illy. " If you are ready, we are."
CHAPTER XXXIX.
Could any one have known what was passing
in different places, he would have counted Al-
fred's deliverance a certainty ; for Sampson's pla-
card was on Barkington walls, and inside the
asylum Alfred was softening hearts and buying
consciences, as related ; so, in fact, he had two
strings to his bow. *
But mark how strangely things turn ; these
two strings got entangled, and spoiled all. His
father, alarmed by the placard, called at the
pawnbroker's shop, and told him he must move
Alfred directly to a London asylum. Baker
raised objections ; Mr. Hardie crushed them with
his purse, i. e., with his son's and victim's sweet-
heart's father's money : so then, as Baker after
all could not resist the project, but only postpone
it for a day or two, he preferred to take a hand-
some present, and co-operate ; he even connived
at Mr. Hardie's signing the requisite name to
the new order. This the giddy world calls forg-
ery; but in these calm retreats, far from the
public's inquisitive eye, it goes for nothing.
Why, Mrs. Archbold had signed Baker's name
and Dr. Bailey's more than a hundred several
times to orders, statements, and certificates;
depriving Englishmen of their liberty and their
property with a gesture of her taper fingers;
and venting the conventional terms, "Aberra-
tion," "Exaltation," "Depression," "Debili-
ty," "Paralysis," "Excitable," "Abnormal," as
boldly and blindly as any male starling in the
flock.
On the very night then of Alfred's project-
ed escape, two keepers came down from Dr.
Wycherley's asylum to Silverton station : Baker
met them, and drove them to Silverton House in
his dog-cart. They were to take Alfred up by
the night train ; and, when he came into the
kitchen with Brown, they suspected nothing,
nor did Baker or Cooper, who presently emerged
from the back kitchen. Brown saw, and recov-
ered his wits partially. * * Shall I go for his port-
manteau. Sir?*' stammered he, making a shrewd
and fortunate guess at what was up. Baker as-
sented ; and soon after went out to get the horse
harnessed : on this Mrs. Archbold, pale, sorrow-
ful, and silent hitherto, beckoned Alfred into the
back kitchen, and there gave him his watch and
his loose money. "I took care of them for
you," said she; "for the like have often been
stolen in this place. Put the moneys in your
shoes ; it may be useful to you."
He thanked her somewhat sollenly; for his
VERY HAED CASH.
176
disappointment was so deep and bitter that small
kindnesses almost irritated him.
She sighed. * ' It is cruel to be angry with ?ne, *'
she said: "I am not the cause of this; it is a
heavier blow to me than to you. Sooner or later
you will be free and then you will not waste a
thought on me, I fear but I must remain in
this odious prison without your eyes and your
smile to lighten me, yet unable to forget you.
Oh, Alfred, for mercy's sake whisper me one
kind word at parting ; give me one kind look to
remember and dote upon.'* ,
She put out both hands as eloquently as she
spoke, and overpowered his prudence so far that
he took her offered hands they were as cold
now as they were burning hot the last time
and pressed them, and said, ** I shall be grateful
to you while I live."
The passionate woman snatched her hands
away. "Gratitude is too cold for me," she
cried ; "I scorn even yours. Love me, or hate
me."
He made no reply. And so they parted.
"Will you pledge your honor to make no at-
tempt at escape on the road ?" asked the pawn-
broker, on his return.
"I'll see you d d first,*' replied the prisoner.
On this he was handcuffed, and helped into
the dog-cart.
They went up to town by the midnight train ;
but, to Alfred's astonishment and delight, did
not take a carriage to themselves.
However, station after station was passed, and
nobody came into their carriage. At last they
stopped at a larger station, and a good many
people were on the platform : Alfred took this
opportunity and appealed in gentle but moving
terms to the first good and intelligent face he
saw. "Sir," said he, "I implore your assist-
ance."
The gentleman turned courteously to him.
The keepers, to Alfred's surprise, did not inter-
rupt.
"I am the victim of a conspiracy. Sir; they
pretend I am mad : and are taking me by force
to a mad-house, a living tomb."
"You certainly don't appear to be mad," said
the gentleman.
The head keeper instantly sljowed him the
order and a copy of the certificates.
"Don't look at them^ Sir," cried Alfred, "they
are signed by men who are bribed to sign them.
For God's sake, Sir, judge for yourself. Test
my memory, my judgment, by any question you
please. Use your own good sense; don't let
those venal rogues judge for you.'*
The gentleman turned cold directly.
"I could not take on me to interfere,'* said
he. The unsworn affidavits had overpowered his
senses. He retired with a frigid inclination.
Alfred wrung his handcuffed hands, and the con-
necting chain rattled. The train moved on.
The men never complained : his conduct was
natural ; and they knew their strength. At the
next station he tested a snob's humanity instead
of a gentleman's. He had heard, they were more
tender-hearted. The answer was a broad grin :
repeated at intervals.
Being called mad was pretty much the same
thing as being mad to a mind of this class : and
Alfred had admitted he was called mad.
At the next station he implored a silvery-hair-
ed old gentfeman. Old age, he had heard, has
known griefs, and learned pity.
The keeper showed the certificates.
"Ah!"saidSenex; " poor young man. Now
don't agitate yourself. It is all for your good.
Pray go quietly. Very painful, very painful."
And he hobbled away as fast as he could. It
is by shirking the painful some live to be silvery
old.
Next he tried a policeman. Bobby listened to
him erect as a dart.
The certificates were shown him.
He eyed them, and said, sharply, "All right.'*
Nor could Alfred's entreaties and appeals to
common sense attract a word or even a look from
him. Alfred cried, " Help ! murder ! If you are
Englishmen, if you are Christians, help me.*'
This soon drew a crowd round him, listening
to his fiery tale of wrong, and crying " Shame,
shame! Let him go." The keepers touched
their heads, winked, and got out and showed the
certificates; the crowd melted away like wax
before those two suns of evidence (unsworn).
The train move^ on.
It was appalling. - How could he ever get
free? Between his mind and that of his fellows
there lay a spiritual barrier more impassable than
the walls of fortified cities.
Yet at the very next station, with character-
istic tenacity of purpose, he tried again ; for he
saw a woman standing near, a buxom country
woman of forty. Then he remembered that the
Naked Eye was not yet an extinct institution
among her sex. He told her his tale, and im-
plored her to use her own eyes. She seemed
struck, and did eye him far more closely than
the men had ; and told the keepers they ought
to be ashamed of themselves ; he was no mad-
man, for she had seen madmen. They showed
her the certificates.
"Oh, I am no scholar!" said she, contempt-
uously, "ye can't write my two eyes out of my
head."
The keeper whipped off Alfred's cap and show-
ed his shaven crown.
"La! so he is," said she, lowering her tone;
" dear heart, what a pity ! And such a pretty
young gentleman." And after that all he could
say only drew the dew of patient pity to her eyes.
The train went on, and left her standing there,
a statue of negative clemency. Alfred lost heart.
He felt how impotent he was. " I shall die in a
mad-house," he said. He shivered in a corner,
hating man, and doubting God.
They reached Dr. Wycherley's early in the
morning. Alfred was shown into a nice clean
bedroom, and asked whether he would like to
bathe or sleep. " Oh a bath," he said ; and was
allowed to bathe himself. He had not been long
in the water when Dr. Wycherley's medical as-
sistant tapped at the door, and then entered with-
out farther ceremony ; a young gentleman with
a longish down on his chin, which, initiated early
in the secrets of physiology, he was too knowing
to shave off and so go to meet his trouble. He
came in looking like a machine, with a note-
book in his hand, and stood by the bath side dic-
tating notes to himself and jotting them down.
"Six contusions: two on the thorax, one on
the abdomen, two on the thighs, one near the
pattella; turn, please.** Alfred turned in the
water. " A slight dorsal abrasion ; also of tbA
176
VERY HARD CASIL
wrists ; a serere excoriation of the Ankle. Leg-
lock, eh?"
"Yes."
" Iron leg-lock. Head shaved. Large blister.
Good ! Any other injuries external or internal
under old system ?"
" Yes, Sir, confined as a madman though sane,
as you, I am sure, have the sense to see."
" Oh, never mind that ; we are all sane here
except the governor and I."
He whipped out and entered the condition of
the new patient's body with jealous minuteness
in the case book. As for his mind, he made no
inquiry into that ; indeed he was little qualified
for researches of the kind.
At breakfast Alfred sat with a number of mad
ladies and gentlemen, who by firmness, kind-
ness, and routine, had been led into excellent
habits : the linen was clean and the food good.
He made an excellent meal, and set about es-
caping; with this view he explored the place.
Nobody interfered with him ; but plenty of eyes
watched him. The house was on the non-re-
straint system. He soon found that this system
was as bad for him as it was good for the insane.
Non-restraint implied a great many attendants,
and constant vigilance. Moreover, the doors
were strong, the windows opened only eight
inches, and that from the top ; their frame-work
was iron, painted like wood, etc. It was next
to impossible to get into the yard at night ; and
then it looked quite impossible to get any farther,
for the house was encompassed by high walls.
He resigned all hope of escape without con-
nivance. He sounded a keeper ; the man fired
at the first word. '* Come, none of that, Sir ;
you should know better than tempt a poor man."
Alfred colored to the eyes ; and sighed deeply.
To have honor thrown in his face, and made the
reason for not aiding him to bafile a dishonora-
ble conspiracy ! But he took the reproof so
sweetly, the man was touched, and, by-and-by,
eeing*him deeply dejected, said, good-naturedly,
"Don't be down on your luck. Sir. If you are
really better, which you don't look to have much
the matter now, why not write to the Commis-
sioners and ask to be let out ?"
"Because my letters will be intercepted."
"Ay, to your fijends; but not to the Com-
missioners of Lunacy. Not in this house, any
way."
"God bless you!" cried Alfred, impetuously.
"You are my benefactor; you are an honest
fellow; give me your hand."
" Well, why not ? Only you mustn't excite
yourself. Take it'easy." (Formula.)
"Oh, no cant among friends!" said Alfred:
f. " wouldn't you be excited at the hope of getting
out of prison ?"
" Well, I don't know but I might. Bound I
am as sick of it as you are."
Alfred got paper and sketched the letter on
which so much depended. It took him six
hoursu Ho tore up two; he cooled down the
third, and condensed it severely: by this means,
after much thought, he produced a close and
telling composition : he also weeded it of every
trait and every term he had observed in mad
people's talk, or the letters they had shown him.
So there was no incoherency, no heat, no pro-
lixity, no "spies," no "conspiracy," no italics.
A simple, honesl^ earnest story, with bitter truth
stamped on every line; a sober, strong appeal
from a sore heart but hard head to the arbiters
of his fate.
To the best of my belief no madman, however
slightly touched, or however cunning, ever wrote
a letter so gentle yet strong, so earnest yet calm,
so short yet full, and withal so lucid and cleanly
jointed as this was : and I am no contemptible
judge ; for I have accumulated during the last
few years a large collection of letters from per-
sons deranged in various degrees, and studied
them' minutely, more minutely than most Psy-
chologicals study any thing but Founds, Shil-
lings, and Verbiage.
The letter went, and he hoped but scarcely
expected an answer by retnrn of post. It did
not come. He said to his heart, " Be still ;" and
waited. Another day went by, and another ; he
gnawed his heart, and waited: he pined, and
waited on. The Secret Tribunal, which was all
a shallow legislature had left him, "took it
easy." Secret Tribunals alwaiys do.
But, while the victim suitor longed and pined
and languished for one sound from the voice of
Justice and Humanity, and while the Secret
Tribunal, not being in prison itself all this time,
"took it easy," events occurred at Barkington
that bade fair to throw open the prison doors,
and bring father and son, bride and bridegroom,
together again under one roo
But at what a price !
CHAl^TER XL.
Mb. Hardie found his daughter lying ashy
pale on a little bed in the drawing-room of Al-
bion Villa, She was now scarce conscious. The
old doctor sat at her head looking very grave;
and Julia kneeled over her beloved friend, pale
as herself, with hands clasped convulsively, and
great eyes of terror and grief.
That vivid young face, full of foreboding and
woe, struck Mr. Hardie the moment he entered ;
and froze his very heart : the strong man quiv-
ered, and sank slowly like a felled tree by the
bedside ; and his face and the poor girl's, whose
earthly happiness he had coldly destroyed, nearly
met over his crushed daughter.
* ' Jane, my child, " he gasped ; " my poor litde
Jane!"
" Oh let me sleep," she moaned, feebly.
"Darling, it's your own papa," said JuUlE^
softly.
"Poor papa, "said she, turning rather to Julia
than to him : "let me sleep."
She was in a half lethargic state.
Mr. Hardie asked the doctor in an agitated
whisper if he might move her home. The doc-
tor shook his head: "Not by my advice: her
pulse is scarce perceptible. We roust not move
her, nor excite her, nor yet let her sink into
lethargy. She is in great danger ; very great"
At these terrible words Mr. Hardie groaned :
and they all began to speak below the breath.
"Edward," murmured Mrs. Dodd, hurriedly,
"run and put off the auction: put it off alto-
gether : then go to the railway ; nothing must
come here to make a noise : and get straw pnt
down directly. Do that first, dear."
" You are kinder to me than I deserve," mot-
VERY HARD CASH.
177
tered Mr. Hardie, hiunUy, quite cowed by the
blow that had fallen on him.
The words agitated Mrs. Dodd with many
thoughts : but she whispered as calmly as she
could, '' Let OS think of nothing now but this
precions life."
Mr. Hardie begged to see the extent of the
injury. Mrs. Dodd dissuaded him ; but he per-
sisted. Then the doctor showed her poor head.
At that |)ie father uttered a scream and sat
quivering. Julia buried her face in the bed-
clothes directly, and sobbed vehemently. It
passed faintly across the benumbed and shud-
dering father, "How she loves my child; they
all love her:" but the thought made little im-
pression at the time ; the mind was too full of
terror and woe. The doctor now asked for
brandy, in a whisper. Mrs. Dodd left the room
with stealthy foot and brought it. He asked
for a quill. Julia went with swift, stealthy foot,
and brought it. With adroit and tender hands
they aided the doctor, and trickled stimulants
down her throat. Then sat like statues of grief
about the bed; only every now and then eye
soaght eye, and endeavored to read what the
other thought. Was there hope? Was there
none? And by-and-by, so roving is the mind,
especially when the body is still, these statues
began to thrill with thoughts of the past as well
as the absorbing present.
Ay, here were met a strange party ; a stranger,
for its size, methinks never yet met on earth, to
mingle their hearts together in one grief.
Just think! Of him who sat there with his
face hidden in his -hands, and his frame shud-
dering, all the others were the victims.
Yet the lady, whose husband he had robbed
and driven mad, pitied and sympathized with
him, and he saw it; the lady, whom he had in-
sulted at the altar and blighted her young heart
and life, pitied and sympathized with him ; the
poor old doctor pitied and sympathized, and
was more like an anxious father than a physi-
cian.
Even Jane was one of his victims ; for she fell
by the hand of a man he had dishonestly ruined
and driven out of his senses.
Thinking of all he had done, and this the end
of it, he was at once crushed and melted.
He saw with awe that a mightier hand than
man's was upon him ; it had tossed him and his
daughter into the house and the arms of the in-
jured Dodds, in defiance of all human calcula-
tion ; and he felt himself a straw in that hand :
so he was, and the great globe itself. Oh if
Jane should die 1 the one creature he loved, the
one creature, bereaved of whom he could get no
joy even from riches.
What would he not give to recall the past,
since all his schemes had but ended in this.
Thus stricken by terror of the divine wrath, and
touched by the goodness and kindness of those
he had cruelly wronged, all the man was broken
with remorse. Then he vowed to undo his own
work as far as possible : he would do any thing,
every thing, if Heaven would spare him his
chUd.
Now it did so happen that these resolves,
earnest and sincere but somewhat vague, were
soon put to the test ; and, as often occurs, whai;
he was called on to do first was that which he
would rather have done last. Thus it was:
about five o'clock in the afternoon Jane Hardie
opened her eyes and looked about her.
It was a moment of intense anxiety, lliey
all made signals, but held their breath. She
smiled at sight of Mr. Hardie, and said, " Papa !
dear papa!"
There was great joy: silent on the part of
Mrs. Dodd and Julia; but Mr. Hardie, who saw
in this a good omen. Heaven recognizing his
penitence, burst out: **She knows me; she
speaks ; she will live. How good God is I Yes,
my darling child, it is your own father. You
will be brave, and get well for my sake."
Jane did not seem to pay much heed to these
words ; she looked straight before her, like one
occupied with her own thought, and said, dis-
tinctly and solemnly, "Papa send for Alfred."
It fell on all three like a clap of thunder,
those gentle but decided tones; those simple, nat-
ural words.
Julia's eyes flashed into her mother's, and then
sought the ground directly.
There was a dead silence.
Mr. Hardie was the one to speak. " Why for
him, dear? Those who love you best are all
here."
"For Heaven's sake don't thwart her, Sir,"
said the doctor, in alarm. " This is no time to
refuse her any thing in your power. Sometimes
the very expectation of a beloved person coming
keeps them alive ; stimulates the powers."
Mr. Hardie was sore perplexed. He recoiled
from the sudden exposure that might take place
if Alfred, without any preparation or previous
conciliatory measures, were allowed to burst in
upon them. And while his mind was whirling
within him in doubt and perplexity, Jane spoke
again ; but no longer calmly and connectedly :
she was beginning to wander. Presently in her
wandering she spoke of Edward ; called him
dear Edward. Mrs. Dodd rose hastily, and her
first impulse was to ask both gentlemen to re-
tire ; so instinctively does a good woman protect
her own sex against the other. But, reflecting
that this was the father, she made an excuse and
retired herself instead, followed by Julia. The
doctor divined, and went to the window. The
father sat by the bed, and soon gathered his
daughter loved Edward Dodd.
The time was gone by when this would have
greatly pained him.
He sighed like one overmatched by fa^ but
said, "You shall have him, my darling ;^P is a
good young man, he shall be your husband ; you
shall be happy. Only live for my sake, for all
our sakes. She paid no attention and wandered
on a little ; but her mind gradually cleared, and
by-and-by she asked quietly for a glass of water.
Mr. Hardie gave it her. She sipped, and he
took it from her. She looked at him close, and
said, distinctly, " Have you sent for Alfred ?"
"No, love, not yet?"
"Not yet?! There is no time to lose," she
said, gravely.
Mr. Hardie trembled. Then, being alone with
her, the miserable man unable to say no, un-
willing to say yes. tried to persuade her not to
ask for Alfred. *'*My dear," he whispered, "I
will not refuse you : but I have a secret to con-
fide to you. Will you keep it ?"
178
VERY HARD CASH.
"Yes, papa, faithfully."
"Poor Alfred is not himself. He has dela-
sions ; he is partly insane. My brother Thomas
has thought it best for us all to put him under
gentle restraint for a time. It would retard his
cure to have him down here and subject him to
excitement."
" Papa,** said Jane, " are you deceiving me,
or are you imposed upon ? Alfred insane ? It
is a falsehood. He came to me the night before
the wedding that was to be. O my brother, my
darling brother, how dare they say you are in-
sane! That letter you showed me then was a
falsehood ? papa ! ' *
**I feared to frighten you,** said Mr. Hardie,
and hung his head.
"I see it all," she cried, "those wicked men
with their dark words have imposed on you.
Bring him to mo that I may reconcile you all,
and end all this misery ere I go hence and be no
more seen.'*
" Oh, my child, don't talk so,** cried Mr. Har-
die, trembling. " Think of your poor father.'*
"I do," she cried, **I do. Oh, papa, I lie
here betweenlwo worlds, and see them both so
clear. Trust to me : and, if you love me ^*'
"If I love you, Jane? better than all the
world twice told.'*
"Then don't refuse me this one favor: the
last, perhaps, I shall ever ask you. I want my
brother here before it is too late. Tell him he
must come to his little sister, who loves him
dearly, and is dying."
" Oh no ! no ! no !" cried the agonized father,
casting every thing to the winds. " I will. He
shall be here in twelve hours. Only promise me
to bear up. Have a strong will ; have courage.
You shall have Alfred, you shall have any thing
you like on earth, any thing that money can get
you ! What am I saying ? I have no money ;
it is all gone. But I have a father's heart.
Madam, Mrs. Dodd !" She came directly.
" Can you give me paper ? No, I won't trust
to a letter. I'll send off a special messenger
this moment. It is for my son, madam. He
will be here to-morrow morning. God knows
how it will all end. But how can I refuse my
dying child ? Oh, madam, you are good, kind,
forgiving ; keep my poor girl alive for me : keep
telling her Alfred is coming ; she cares more' for
him than for her poor heart-broken father."
And the miserable man rushed out, leaving
Mrs. Dodd in tears for him.
Hftjyas no sooner gone than Julia came in;
and^ksped her mother, and trembled on her
bosom. Then Mrs. Dodd knew she had over-
heard Mr. Hardie's last words.
Jane Hardie, too, though much exhausted by
the scene with her father, put out her hand to
Julia, and took hers, and said feebly, but with a
sweet smile, "He is coming, love; all shall be
well." Then to herself as it were, and looking
up with a gentle rapture in her pale face :
" Blessed are the peace-makers ; for they shall
be called the children of God."
On this thought she seemed to feed with inno-
cent joy ; but for a long time was too weak to
speak again.
Mr. Hardie, mshing from the honse, found
Edward at work outside ; he was crying undis-
^aisedljr, and with his coat off working harder
at spreading the straw than both the two men
together he had got to help him. Mr. Hardie
took his hand and wrung it, but could not speak.
In half an hour a trusty agent he had often
employed was at the station waiting for the np-
train, nearly due.
He came back to Albion Villa. Julia met
him on the stairs with her finger to her lips:
' ' She is sleeping ; the doctor has hopes. Oh, Sir,
let us all pray for her day and nig^.**
Mr. Hardie blessed her ; it seemea the face of
an angel, so earnest, so lovely, so pious. He
went home : and at the door of his own house
Peggy met him with anxious looks. He told
her what he had done.
" Goodi Heavens !" said she : " have you for-
gotten ? He says he will kill you the first day
he gets out. You told me so yourself.**
" Yes, Baker said so. I can't help it. I don*t
care what becomes of me ; I care only for my
child. Leave me, Peggy ; there, go ; go."
He was no sooner alone than he fell upon his
knees, and offered the Great Author of life and
death a bargain. "O God," he cried, "I own
my sins, and I repent them. Spare but my
child, who never sinned against Thee, and I will
undo all I have done amiss in Thy sight. I will
refund that money on which Thy curse lies. I
will throw myself on their mercy. I will set my
son free. I will live on a pittance. I will part
with Peggy. I will serve Mammon no more. I
will attend Thine ordinances. I will live sober-
ly, honestly, and godly all the remainder of my
days; only do Thou spare my child. She is
Thy servant, and does Thy work on earth, and
there is nothing on earth I love but her."
And now the whistle sounded, the train moved,
and his messenger was flying fast to London,
with a note to Dr. Wycherley :
"Dear Sir, My poor daughter lies danger-
ously wounded, and perhaps at the point of
death. She cries for her brother. He must
come down to us instantly, with the bearer of
this. Send one of your people with him if you
like. But it is not necessary. I inclose a blank
check, signed, which please fill at your discre-
tion.
" I am, with thanks,
" Yours in deep distress,
"RiCHABD Hardie."
CHAPTER XLL
Dr. Short arrived, approved Dr. Phillips's
treatment, and said the case was severe but not
hopeless, and he would call again. A bed was
prepared in the house for Mr. Hardie : but nei-
ther he nor any of the Dodds closed an eye that
sorrowful night.
About midnight, after a short slumber, the
sufferer became uneasy, and begged to be lefk
with Julia. Julia was sent for, and found her a
good deal excited. She inquired more than once
if they were quite alone, and then asked for pa-
per and a pencil. She wrote a few lines, and
made Julia put them in a cover and seal them.
"Now, dear friend," she said, "promise me not
to open this, nor even to let your mother ; it is
not for your happiness that what I have written
VERY HARD CASH.
179
should be seen by her or you ; no, no, much bet-
ter not. Come, dear friend, pledge me your hon-
or." Julia pledged her honor.
Then Jane wrote on the cover, "From a dying
sister." Julia saw that ; and wept sore.
Jane comforted her. "Do not weep for me,
love : I am content to go, or stay. This is not
my doing ; so I know it must be for the best.
He is leading me by a way that I know not.
Oh my beloved friend, how sweet it is to lie in
His hands, and know no will but His. Ay, I
thank Him for crossing my will, and leading me
to himself by His own good way, and not by
poor blind, foolish, mine."
In this spirit of full resignation she abode con-
stant, and consoled her weeping friehds from
time to time, whenever she was quite herself.
About daybreak, being alone with her father,
she shed a few tears at his lonely condition.
"I fear you will miss me," said she. "Take
my advice, dear; be reconciled with Alfred at
once, and let Julia be your daughter, since I am
leaving you. She is all humility and heart.
Dying, I prize her and her affection more high-
ly ; I seem to see characters clearer, all things
clearer, than I did before my summons came."
The miserable father tried to be playful and
scold her: "You must not talk nor think of
death," he said. "Your bridal-day is to come
first; I know all; Edward Dodd has told mo
he loves you. He is a fine noble fejlow ; you
shall marry him : I wish it. Now, for his sake,
summon all your resolution, and make up your
mind to live. Why, at your age, it needs but
to say, * I will live, I will, I will ;' and when all
the prospect is so smiling, when love awaits you
at the aitar, and on every side ! If you could
leave your poor doting father, do not leave your
lover : and here he is with his mother crying for
you. Let me comfort him ; let me tell him you
will live for his sake and mine."
Even this could not disturb the dying Chris-
tian. " Dear Edward," she said ; "it is sweet
to know he loves me. Ah, well, he is young ;
he must live without me till I become but a ten-
der memory of his youth. And oh, I pray for
him that he may cherish the words I have spoken
to him for his soul's good, far longer than he
can remember these features that are hastening
to decay."
At ten in the morning Mr. Hardie's messen-
ger returned without Alfred, and with a note
from Dr. Wycherley to this efiect : that the or-
der for Alfred's admission into his asylum being
signed by Mr. Thomas Hardie, he could not
send him out even for a day except on Thomas
Hardie's authority ; it would be a violation of
the law. Under the circumstances, however,
he thought he might venture to receive that
order by telegraph. If then Mr. Hardie would
telegraph Thomas Hardie in Yorkshire to tele-
graph him (Wycherley), Alfred should be sent
with two keepers wherever Mr. T. Hardie should
so direct.
Now Mr. Hardie had already repented of
sending for Alfred at all. So, instead of tele-
graphing to Yorkshire, he remained passive, and
said sullenly to Mrs. Dodd, "Alfred can't come,
it seems."
Thus Routine kept the brother from his dying
sister.
They told Jane, with aching hearts, there
was reason to fear Alfred could not arrive that
(Ay.
She only gave a meaning look at Julia, about
the paper ; and then she said, with a little sigh,
"God's will be done." '
This was the last disappointment Heaven al-
lowed Earth to inflict on her; and the shield
of Faith turned its edge.
One hour of pain, another of delirium, and
now the clouds that darken this mortal life
seemed to part and pass, and Heaven to open
full upon her. She spoke of her coming change
no longer with resignation; it was with rapture.
" Oh !" she cried, "to think that from this very
day I shall never sin again, shall never again
oflend Him by unholy temper, by un-Christ-liko
behavior 1"
The strong and healthy wept and groaned
aloud ; but she they sorrowed for was all celes-
tial bliss. In her lifetime she had her ups and
downs of religious fervor ; was not without fe-
verish heats, and cold misgivings and depres-
sion ; but all these fled at that dread hour when
the wicked are a prey to dark misgivings, or
escape into apathy. This timid girl, that would
have screamed at a scratch, met the King of
Terrors with smiles and triumph. For her the
grave was Jordan, and death was but the iron
gate of life everlasting. Mors janua vitro. Yet
once or twice she took herself to task : but only
to show she knew what the All-Pure had for-
given her. "I often was wanting in humility,"
she said. "I almost think that if I were to be
sent back again into this world of sin and sor-
row I am leaving behind, I should grow a little
in humility; for I know the ripe Christian is
like the ripe corn, holds his head lower than
when he was green ; and the grave it seems to
be ripening me. But what docs it matter? since
He who died for me is content to take me as I
am. Come quickly. Lord Jesus, oh, come quick-
ly ! Relieve Thy servant of the burden of the
flesh, and of the sins and foibles that cling to it,
and keep her these many years from Thee."
This prayer was granted ; the body failed more
and more ; she could not swallow even a drop
of wine; she could not even praise Her Re-
deemer: that is to say, she could not speak.
Yet she lay and triumphed. With hands put
together in prayer, and eyes full of praise and joy
unspeakable, she climbed fast to God. While
she so mounted in the spirit, her breath came at
intervals unusually long, and all were sent for
to see Death conquer the body and be conquered
by the soul.
At last, after an unnaturally long interval,
she drew a breath like a sigh. They waited for
another ; waited, waited in vain.
She had calmly ceased to live.
The old doctor laid down her hand reverently,
and said, "She is with us no more." Then
with many tears, " Oh, may we all meet where
she is now, and may I go to her the first !"
Richard Hardie was led from the room in a
stupor.
Immediately after death all the disfiguring
efiect of pain retired, and the happy soul seemed
to have stamped its own celestial rapture on the
countenance at the moment of leaving it ; a ra^
180
VERY HARD CASH.
tare so wondcrfal, so divine, so moro than mor-
tal calm, irradiated the dead face. The good
Christians she left behind her looked on and
feared to weep, lest they should offend Him,
who had taken her to Himself, and set a visible
seal upon the house of clay that had held her.
" Oh, mamma," cried Julia, with- fervor, " look !
look ! Can we, dare we, wish that angel back
to this world of misery and sin ?" And it was
some hours before she cooled, and began to
hang on Edward's neck and weep his loss and
hers, as weep we mortals must, though the an-
gels of Heaven are rejoicing.
Thus died in the flower of her youth, and by
what we call a violent death, the one child Rich-
ard Hardie loved ; member of a religious party
whose diction now and then offends one to the
soul ; but the root of the matter is in them ; al-
lowance made for those passions, foibles, and in-
firmities of the flesh, even you and I are not
entirely free from, they live fearing God ; and
die loving Him.
There was an inquest next day, followed in
due course by a public trial of James Maxley.
But these are matters which, though rather cu-
rious and interesting, must be omitted, or touch-
ed hereafter and briefly.
The effect of Jane's death on Richard Hardie
was deplorable. He saw the hand of Heaven ;
but did not bow to it : so it filled him with rage,
rebellion, and despair. He got his daughter
away, and hid himself in the room with her ;
scarcely stirring out by night or day. He spoke
to no one; he shunned the Dodds: he hated
them. He said it was through visiting their
house she had met her death, and at their door.
He would not let himself see it was he who had
sent her there with his lie. He loathed Alfred,
calling him the cause of all.
He asked nobody to the funeral : and, when
Edward begged permission to come, he gave a
snarl like a wild beast and went raging from him.
But Edward would go: and at the grave side
pitying Heaven relieved the young fellow's chok-
ing heart with tears : but no such dew came to
that parched old man, who stood on its other
side like the withered Archangel, his eyes gloomy
and wild, his white cheek plowed deep with
care and crime and anguish, his lofty figure
bowed by his long warfare, his soul burning and
sickening by turns, with hatred and rebellion,
with desolation and despair.
He went home and made his will ; for he felt
life hang on him like lead, and that any moment
he might kill himself to be rid of it. Strange to
say, he left a sum of money to Edward Dodd. A
moment before, he didn't know he was going to
do it : a moment after, he was half surprised he
had done it, and minded to undo it ; but would
not take the trouble. He went up to London,
and dashed into speculation as some in their
two passions ; avarice, and his love for his
daughter. Bereaved of her, he must either die
or live for gain. He sought the very cave of
Mammon ; he plunged into the Stock Exchange.
When Mr. Hardie said, "Alfred can't come,
it seems, "Mrs. Dodd misunderstood him, natu- , rc", j , -,
rally enough. She thought the heartless young \ Baza\geUe, vi\io "Wi^^ ^\Aa%, ^\e&YB.^^ and her
man had sent some excuse ; had chosen to' let
his sister die neglected rather than face Julia :
** As if she would leave her own room while he
was in my house," said Mrs. Dodd, with sover-
eign contempt. From this moment she con-
ceived a horror of the young man. Edward
shared it fully, and the pair always spoke of
him under the title of " the Wretch :" this was
when Julia was not by. In her presence he
was never mentioned. By this means she wonld
in time forget him, or else see him as they saw
him.
And as, after all, they knew little to Mr.
Hardic's disadvantage, except what had come .
out of " the Wretch's" mouth, and as moreovei^^
their hearts were softened toward the father,
his bereavement, and their sight of his miserj^
and also by his grateful words, they quite s&l
quitted him of having robbed them, and felft
sure the fourteen thousand pounds was at the
bottom of the sea.
They were a little surprised that Mr. Hardie
never spoke nor wrote to them again ; but being
high-minded, and sweet-tempered, they set it
down to all-absorbing grief, and would not feel
sore about it.
And now they must leave the little villa where
they had been so haj)py, and so unhappy.
The scanty furniture went first , Mrs. Dodd
followed, and arranged it in their apartments.
Julia would stay behind to comfort Edward, in-
consolable herself. The auction came off. Most
of the things went for cruelly little money com-
pared to their value : and with the balance the
sad young pair came up to London, and were
clasped in their mother's arms. The tears were
in her tender eyes. "It is a poor place to re-
ceive my treasures," she said: Edward looked
round astonished; "It was a poor place," said
he, "but you have made a little palace of it,
somehow or another."
"My children's love can alone do that," re-
plied Mrs. Dodd, kissing them both again.
Next day they consulted together how they
were to live. Edward wished to try and get his
father into a public asylum; then his mother
would have a balance to live upon out of her
income. But Mrs. Dodd rejected this proposal
with astonishment. In vain Edward cited the
^Tiser that public asylums are patterns of com-
fort, and cure twice as many patients as the
privates ones do. She was deaf alike to the
^Tiser and to statistics. "Do not argue me
out of my common sense, " said she. " My hus-
band, your father, in a public asylum, where any
body can go and stare at my darling!"
She then informed them she had written to
her Aunt Bazalgette and her Uncle Fountain,
and invited them to contribute something toward
David's maintenance.
Edward was almost angry at this. "Fancy
asking favors of ^Acm," said he.
Oh, I must not sacrifice my family to false
despair take to drink. For this man had but pride," said Mrs. Dodd; "besides, they are en-
titled to know."
While waiting for their answers,, a word about
the parties, and their niece.
Our Mrs. Dodd, bom Lucy Fountain, was left
at nineteen to the care of two guardians : 1, her
Uncle Fountain, an old bachelor, -who loved
common, "^^\?,Tee, and his own way ; 2, her Annt
VERY HARD CASH.
181
own way ; both charming people, when they got
their own way ; verjuice, when they didn't ; and
egotists deep as ocean. ^
From guardians they grew match-makers and
rivals by proxy: Uncle schemed to graft Lucy
on to a stick called Talboys, that came in with
the Revocation of the Edict of Nantes, known in
pedigrees as "the Norman Conquest." Aunt,
wife of a merchant of no Descent, except from a
high stool, devoted her to Richard Hardie. An
nnlooked-for obstacle encountered both: Lucy
was not amorous. She loved these two egotists,
and their quadrupeds; but there she stopped
dead short. They persisted ; and, while they
palled her to and fro and ruffled her native
calm, David Dodd, first mate of the Something
or other. East Indiaman brown cheek, honest
speech, heart of gold fell deep in love and wor-
shiped her at a distance. His timidity and so-
cial insignificance made him harmless ; so ego-
tist Fountain had him in to dessert to spin yams ;
egotist Bazalgette invited him to her house to
flirt with. At this latter place he found Hardie
and Talboys both courting Lucy ; this drove him
mad, and in his fury he popped. Lucy declined
him secundum artem: he went away blessing
her, with a manly sob or two. Uucy cried a
little, and took a feminine spite against his ri-
vals, who remained to pester her. Now Tal-
boys, spurred by uncle, had often all but popped :
only some let, hindrance, or just impediment
had still interposed : once her pony kept pranc-
ing at each effort he made toward Hymen ; they
do say the subtle virgin kept probing the brute
with a hair-pin, and made him caracole and
spill the treacle as fast as it came her way.
However, now Talboys, elected to pop by sea.
It was the element his ancestors had invaded fair
England by ; and on its tranquil bosom a lover
is safe from prancing steeds, and the myriad an-
tipops of terra firma. Miss Lucy consented to
the water excursion demurely, designing to bring
her sickly wooer to the point, and so get rid of
him for ever and ever. Plot and counterplot
were baffled by the elements : there came an
antipop out of the southwest called a gale. Tal-
boys boated so skillfully tha^he and his intend-
ed would have been united without ceremony by
Father Nep, at the bottom of the British Chan-
nel, but for David Dodd, who was hovering near
in jealous anguish and a cutter. He saved them
both, but in the doing of it missed his ship, and
professional ruin faced him. Then good-hearted
Lucy was miserable, and appealed to Mr. Bazal-
gette, and he managed somehow to get David
made captain of the Rajah. The poor girl
thought she had squared the account with Da-
vid ; but he refused the ship unless she would
go halves, and while her egotists bullied and
vexed her, he wrought so upon her pity, and
teased her so, that to get rid of his importunity
she married him. In time she learned to love
him ten times better than if she had begun all
flames. Uncle and aunt cut her tolerably dead
for some years; Uncle came round the first;.'
some antiquarian showed him that Dodd was
a much more, ancient family than Talboys.
**Why, Sir, they were lords of sixteen manors
under the Heptarchy, and hold some of them to
this day.*'" Mrs. Bazalgette, too, had long cor-
responded with her periodically, and on friendly
termg.
The answers came on the same day, curiously
enough. Uncle Fountain, ruined by railway spec-
ulation, was living on an allowance from credit-
ors ; but his house was at their service if they
liked to live with him and board themselves.
Mrs. Bazalgette's was the letter of a smooth
woman who has hoarded imperishable spite.
She reminded her niece after all these years
that her marriage with David was an act of dis-
obedience and ingratitude. She then enumera-
ted her own heavy expenses, all but the 400 a
year she spent in bedizening her carcass, and
finally, amidst a multitude of petty insults, she
offered to relieve Mrs. Dodd of Julia. Now
Poetry has reconciled us to an asp in a basket
of figs ; but here was a scorpion in a bundle of
nettles. Poor Mrs. Dodd could not speak after
reading it. She handed it to Edward, and laid
her white forehead wearily in her hand. Ed-
ward put the letter in an envelope, and sent it
back with a line in his own hand declining all
correspondence with the writer.
"Now then, dears," said he, "don't be cast
down. Let this be a warning to us never to
ask favors of any body. Let us look the thing
in the face; we must work or starve: and all
the better for us. Hard work suits heavy hearts.
Come, have you any plan ?"
"To be sure we have," said Julia, eagerly.
" I mean to go for a governess, and then I shall
cost mamma nothing, and besides I can send
her the money the people give me."
"A pretty plan!" said Edward, sadly;
**what! we three part company? Don't you
feel lonely enough without that? I do, then.
How can we bear our burdens at all, if we are
not to be all together to cheer one another alonfr
the weary road ? What ! are we to break up ?
Is it not enough to be bereaved?"
He could say no more for the emotion his
own words caused him; he broke down alto-
gether, and ran out of the room.
However, he came back in an hour with his
eyes red, but his heart indomitable, determined
to play a man's part for all their sakes. " You
ladies," said he, with something of his old ge-
nial way that sounded so strange to one looking
at his red eyes, and inspired a desire to hug
him, " are full of talent, but empty of invention.
The moment you are ruined, or that sort of
thing, it is go for a governess, go for a compan-
ion, go here, go there, in search of what? In-
dependence? No; Dependence. Besides, all
this going is bosh. Families are strong if they
stick together, and if they go to pieces they are
weak. I learned one bit of sense out of that
mass of folly they call antiquity, and that was
the story of the old bloke with his twelve sons,
and fagot to match. * Break 'em apart,' he
said ; and each son broke his stick as easy as
shelling pease. * Now break the twelve all tied
together :' devil a bit could the duffers break it
then. Now we are not twelve, we are but three ;
easy to break one or two of us apart, but not
the lot together. No ; nothing but death shall
break this fagot, for nothing less shall part us
three."
He stood like a colossus, and held out his
hands to them ; they dttng round his neck in a
moment, as if to \\!bo3E{Gt.\,fe \v\% ^^-t^^ Ocssasi,
182
VERY HARD CASH.
Mrs. Dodd sighed, after the first burst of en-
thusiastic affection, and said : ** K he would only-
go a step further, and tell us what to do in com-
pany."
**Ay, there it is," said Julia. "Begin with
me. What can I do ?"
"Why, paint."
" What, to sell ? Oh dear, my daubs are not
good enough for that."
" Stuff! Nothing is too bad to sell'*
"I really thmk you might," said Mrs. Dodd ;
"and I will help you."
"No, no, mamma, I want you for something
better than the fine arts. You must go in one
of the great grooves : Female vanity : you must
be a dress-maker; you are a genius at it."
"My mamma a dress-maker," cried Julia;
"oh, Edward, how can you? how dare you?
poor, poor mamma!"
"Don*t be so impetuous, dear. I think he is
right : yes, it is all I am fit for. If ever there
was a Heaven-born dress-maker, it's me."
"As for myself," said Edward, "I shall look
out for some business in which physical strength
goes further than intellectual attainments. Luck-
ily there are plenty such. Breaking stones is
one. But I shall try a few others first."
It is easy to settle on a business, hard to get
a footing in one. Edward, convinced that the
dress-making was their best card, searched that
mine of various knowledge, the 'TVser, for an
opening : but none came. At last one of those
great miscellaneous houses in the city advertised
for a lady to cut cloaks. He proposed to his
mother to go with him. She shrank from en-
countering strangers. No, she would go to a
fashionable dress-maker she had employed some
years, and ask her advice. Perhaps Madame
Blanch would find her something to do. "I
have more faith in the 'TYscr," said Edward,
clinging to his idol.
Mrs. Dodd found Madame Blanch occupied
in trying to suit one of those heart-breaking
idiots to whom dress is the one great thing, and
all things else, sin included, the little ones. She
had tried on a scarf three times ; and it discon-
tented her when on, and spoiled all else when
off. Mrs. Dodd saw, and said, obligingly, "Per-
haps were I to put it on you could judge bet-
ter." Mrs. Dodd, you must know, had an ad-
mirable art of putting on a shawl or scarf. With
apparent nonchalance she settled the scarf on
her shapely shoulders so happily, that the fish
bit, and the scarf went into its carriage ; forty
guineas, or so. Madame cast a rapid but ar-
dent glance of gratitude Dodd-ward. The cus-
tomer began to go, and after fidgeting to the
door and back for twenty minutes actually went
somehow. Then madame turned round, and
said, "I'm sure, ma'am, I am much obliged to
you; you sold me that scarf: and it is a pity we
couldn't put her on your bust and shoulders,
ma'am, then perhaps a scarf might please her.
What can I do for you, ma'am ?"
Mrs. Dodd blushed, and with subdued agita-
tion told Madame Blanch that this time she was
come not to purchase but to ask a favor. Mis-
fortune was heavy on her; and, though not pen-
niless, she was so redmod by her husband's ill-
ness and the Ipss of 14,000 by shipwreck, that
she must employ what little talents she had to
support her family.
The woman explored her from head to foot to
find the change of fortune in some comer of her
raiment : but her customer was as well, though
plainly, dressed as ever, and still looked an easy-
going duchess.
"Could Madame Blanch find her employment
in her own line? What talent I have," said
Mrs. Dodd, humbly, "lies in that way. I could
not cut as well as yourself, of course; but I
think I can as well as some of your people.**
"That I'll be bound you can," said Madame
Blanch, dryly. "But dear, dear, to think of
your having come down so. Have a glass of
wine to cheer you a bit ; do now, that is a good
soul."
"Oh no, madam. I thank you; but wine
can not cheer me : a little bit of good news to
take back to my anxious children, that would
cheer me, madam. Will you be so good ?**
The dress-maker colored and hesitated; she
felt the fascination of Dignity donning Humility,
and speaking Music: but she resisted, "it'
won't do, at least here. I shouldn't be mistress
in my own place. I couldn't drive you like I'm
forced to do the rest ; and, then, I should be sure
to favor you, being a real lady, which is my taste,
and you always will be, rich or poor ; and then
all my ladies would be on the bile with jealousy.'*
" Ah, madam," sighed Mrs. Dodd, "you treat
me like a child; you give me sweetmeats, and
refuse me food for my family."
* * No, no, " said the woman, hastily. * * I don*t
say I mightn't send you out some work to do at
home."
" Oh, thank you, madam." N.B. The dress-
maker had droj)ped the Madam, so the lady used
it now at every word.
" Now stop a bit," said Madame Blanch. "I
know a firm that's in want. Theirs is easy work
by mine, and they cut up a piece of stuff every
two or three days." She then wrote on one or
her own cards Messrs. Cross, Fitchett, Copland,
and Tylee, 11, 12, 13, and 14, Primrose Lane,
City. "Say I recommend you. To tell the
truth, an old hand of my own was to come here
this very morning about it, but she hasn't kept
her time ; so this will learn her business doesn't
stand still for lie-a-beds to catch it.'*
Mrs. Dodd put the card in her bosom and
pressed the hand extended to her by Madame
Zaire Blanch; whose name was Sally White,
spinster. She went back to her children and
showed them the card, and sank gracefully into
a chair, exhausted as much by the agitation of
asking favors as by the walk. ' ' Cross, Fitchett,
Copland ? Why they were in the ' T^ser yester-
day." said Edward: "look at this; a day lost
by being wiser than the 'TYscr.**
"I'll waste no more then,** said Mrs. Dodd,
rising quietly from the chair. They begged her
to rest herself first No, she would not. "I
saw this lost by half an hour,** said she. " Suc-
ceed or fail, I will have no remissness to reproach
myself with.** And she glided off in her quiet
way, to encounter Cross, Fitchett, Copland, and
Tylee, in the lane where a primrose was caught
growing six hundred years ago. She declined
Edward's company rather peremptorily. " Stay
and comfort your sister," said she. But that
was a blind ; the truth was she could not bear
her children to mingle in what she was doing.
No, her ambition was. to ply the scissorB and
VERY HARD CASH.
183
thimble vigorously, and so enable them to be la-
dies and gentlemen at large. She being gone,
Julia made a parcel of water-color drawings, and
sallied forth all on fire to sell them. But, while
she was dressing, Edward started on a cruise in
search of employment. He failed entirely. They
met in the evening, Mrs. Dodd resigned, Edward
dogged, Julia rather excited. *' Now let us tell
our adventures," she said. "As for me, shop
after shop declined my poor sketches. They all
wanted something about as good, only a little
different : nobody complained of the grand fault,
and that is their utter badness. At last one old
gentleman examined them, and oh ! he was so
fat; there, round. And he twisted his mouth
w" (imitating him); "and squinted into them
so : then I was full of hope ; and said to myself,
*Dear mamma and Edward!' And so, when he
ended by saying * No, ' like all the rest, I burst
out crying like a goose."
"My poor girl," cried Mrs. Dodd, with the
tears in her own eyes ; ** why expose yourself to
these cruel rebuffs ?"
**0h, don't waste your pity, mamma; those
great babyish tears were a happy thought of
mine ; he bought two directly to pacify me ; and
there's the money. Thirty shillings !" And she
laid it proudly on the table.
" The old cheat," said Edward ; *' they were
worth two guineas apiece, I know."
"Not they; or why would not any body else
give two-pence for them?"
"Because pictures are a Drug."
He added that even talent was not salable
unless it got into the Great Grooves ; and then
looked at Mrs. Dodd; she replied that unfor-
tunately those Grooves were not always accessi-
ble. The City firm had received her stiffly, and
inquired for whom she had worked. * * Children,
my heart fell at that question. I was obliged to
own myself an amateur and beg a trial. How-
ever, I gave Madame Blanch's card: but Mr.
I don't know which partner it was said he
was not acquainted with her : then he looked a
little embarrassed, I thought. And said the Firm
did liot care to send its stuff to ladies not in the
business ; I might cut it to waste, or He said
no more ; but I do really think he meant I might
purloin it."
"Why wasn't I there to look him into the
earth? Oh, mamma, that you should be sub-
jected to all this!"
"Be quiet, child; I had only to put on my
armor; and do you know what my armor is?
Thinking of my children. So I put on my arm-
or and said quietly, we were not so poor but we
could pay for a piece of cloth should I be so un-
fortunate as to spoil it ; and I offered in plain
terms to deposit the price as security. But he
turned as stiff at that as his yard measure ;
* that was not Cross and Co.*s way of doing busi-
ness,' he said. But it is unreasonable to be de-
jected at a repulse or two : and I am not mit of
spirits; not muph:" with this her gentle mouth
smiled, and her patient eyes were moist.
The next day, just after breakfast, was an-
nounced a gentleman from the City. He made
his bow and produced a parcel, which proved to
be a pattern cloak. "Order, ladies," said he,
briskly, "from Cross, Fitchett, and Co., Prim-
rose Lane. Porter outside with the piece. You
can come in, Sir." Porter entered with a bale.
"Please sign this, ma'am." Mrs. Dodd signed
a receipt for the stuft^ with an undertaking to
deliver it in cloaks at 11 Primrose Lane, in such
a time. Porter retreated. The other side, * ' Our
Mr. Fitchett wishes you to observe this fall in
the pattern. It is new."
"I will, Sir. Am I to trouble you with any
money by way of deposit. Sir ?"
"No orders about it, ma'am. Ladies, your
most obedient. Good-morning, Sir."
And he was away.
All this seemed like a click or two of City
clock-work : followed by rural silence. Yet in
that minute commerce had walked in upon gen-
teel poverty, and left honest labor and modest
income behind her.
Great was the thankfulness, strange and new
the excitement. Edward was employed to set
up a very long deal table for his mother to work
on, Julia to go and buy tailors' scissors. Calcu-
lations were made how to cut the stuff to advant-
age, and in due course the hea-v^ scissors were
heard snick, snick, snicking al] day long.
Julia painted zealously, and Edward, without
saying a word to them, walked twenty miles a
day hunting for a guinea a week, and finding
it not. Not but what employment was often
bobbed before his eyes : but there was no grasp-
ing it. At last he heard of a place peculiarly
suited to him a packing foreman's in a ware-
house at Southwark ; he went there, and was re-
ferred to Mr. A.'s private house. Mr. A. was
in the country for a day. Try Mr. B. Mr. B,
was dining with the Lord Mayor. Returning
belated, he fell in with a fire, and, sad to say,
life was in jeopardy : a little old man had run
out at the first alarm, when there was no danger,
and as soon as the fire was hot had run in again
for his stockings or some such treasure. Fire
does put out some people's reason, clean. While
he was rummaging madly the staircase caught,
and the smoke cut off his second exit, and drove
him up to a little staircase window at the side
of the house. Here he stood, hose in hand,
scorching behind and screaming in front. A
ladder had been brought; but it was a yard
short ; and the poor old man danced on the win-
dow-ledge, and dare not come down to a gall^t
fireman who stood ready to receive him at great
personal peril. In the midst of shrieks, and
cries, and shouts of encouragement, Edward, a
practiced gymnast, saw a chance. He ran up
the ladder like a cat, begged the fireman to clasp
it tight, then got on his shoulders and managed
to grasp the window-sill : he could always draw
his own weight up by his hands : so he soon had
his knee on th% sill, and presently stood erect.
He then put his left arm inside the window, col-
lared the old fellow with his right, and, half per-
suasion, half force, actually lowered him to the
ladder with one Herculean arm amidst a roar
that made the Borough ring. Such a strain
could not long be endured; but the fireman
speedily relieved him by seizing the old fellow's
feet and directing them on to the ladder, and so,
propping him by the waist, went down before
him, and landed him safe. Edward waited till
they were down, thenbegged them to hold the
ladder tight below ; Unng from the ledge, got
his eye well on the ntader below him, let him-
self quietly drop, ind caught hold of it with
hands of iron, and twisting round, came dowxL
184
VERY HARD CASH.
the ladder on the inside hand over head without
using his feet, a favorite gymnastic exercise of
his, learned at the Modem Athens. He was
warmly received by the crowd and by the fire-
men. "You should be one of us, Sir," said a
fine young fellow who had cheered him and ad-
vised him all through. "I wish to Heaven I
was," said Edward. The other thought he was
joking, but laughed, and said, "Then you
should talk to our head man after the business ;
there is a vacancy, you know."
Edward saw the fire out, and rode home on
the engine. There he applied to the head man
for the vacancy.
"You are a stranger to me, Sir," said the
head man. "And I'm sure it is no place for
yon ; you are a gentleman."
"Well; is there any thing ungcntlemanly in
saving people's lives and property ?"
"Hear I hear I" said a comic fireman.
The compliment began to tell, though. Oth-
ers put in their word. "Why, Mr. Baldwin,
if a gentleman ain't ashamed of us, why should
we be ashamed of him ?"
" Where will ye get a better ?" asked another ;
and added, "He is no stranger; we've seen him
work."
" Stop a bit," said the comic fireman : " what
does the dog say? Just call him, Sir, if you
please; his name is Charlie."
Edward called the fire-dog kindly ; he came
and fawned on him ; then gravely snufibd him
all round, and retired wagging his tail gently, as
much as to say, " I was rather taken by suri)rise
at first, but, on the whole, I see no reason to
recall my judgment."
"It is all right," said the firemen in chorus;
and one that had not yet spoken to Edward now
whispered him mysteriously, " Ye see that there
dog he knows more than we do."
After the dog, a biped oracle at head-quarters
was communicated with, and late that very night
Edward was actually enrolled a fireman, and
went home warmer at heart than he had been
for some time. They were all in bed ; and when
he came down in the morning Julia was reading
out of the 'TVser a spirited and magniloquent
d^ription of a fire in Southwark, and of the
heroism displayed by a young gentleman un-
known, but whose name the writer hoped at so
much the line would never be allowed .to pass
into oblivion and be forgotten. In short, the
^Tiser paid him in one column for years of de-
votion. Now Edward, of course, was going to
relate his adventure ; but the journal told it so
gloriously he hesitated to say, " I did all that."
He just sat and stared, and wondered, and
blushed, and grinned like an imbecile.
Unfortunately looks seldom escaped the Dodd-
esses. "What is that for?" inquired Julia, re-
proachfully. "Is that sheepish face the thing
to wear when a sister is reading out a heroic
action ? Oh, these are the things that make one
long to be a man, to do them. What are you
thinking about, dear?"
"Well, I am thinking the 'Tiser is pitching
it rather strong."
" My love, what an. e:ijLprcssion I"
"Well, then, to be MiBBt, I agree with you
that it is a jolly thing to fi|^t with fire and save
men's lives ; and I am glad you see it in that
/jg^ht; for now yovL will approve the step I have
taken. Ladies, I have put myself in the way of
doing this sort of thing every week of my life.
I'm a fireman."
"You are jesting, I trust?" said Mrs. Dodd,
anxiously.
**No, mamma. I got tha place late last
night, and I'm to enter on my duties and put on
the livery next Monday. Hurrah I"
Instantly the admirers of fiery heroes at a dis-
tance overflowed with grief and mortification at
the prospect of one in their own family. They
could not speak at all at first : and when they
did it was only " Cruel I cruel 1" from Julia, and
"Our humiliation is now complete," from Mrs.
Dodd.
They soon dashed Edward's spirits, and made
him unhappy ; but they could nof convince him
ho had done wrong. However, in the heat of
remonstrance, they let out at last that they had
just begun to hope by dint of scissors and paint-
brush to send him back to Oxford, ^e also de-
tected, under a cloud of tender, loving, sooth-
ing; coaxing, and equivocating expressions, their
idea of a Man : to wit, a tall, strong, ornamental
creature, whom the women were to cocker up,
and pet, and slave for; and be rewarded by
basking, dead tired, in an imperial smile or two
let fall by their sovereign proUg from his arm-
chair. And, in fact, good women have often
demoralized their idols down to the dirt by this
process; to be sure their idols were sorryish
clay to begin.
Edward was any thing but flowery, so he
paraded no manly sentiments in reply ; he just
bluntly ridiculed the idea of his consenting to
prey on them; and he said, humbly, "I know
I can't contribute as much to our living as yon
two can the petticoats carry the brains in our
family but be a burden to you? Not if I
know it."
" Pride ! pride ! pride!" objected Julia, lifting
her grand violet orbs like a pensive Madonna.
"And such pride! The pride that falls into
a fire-bucket," suggested prosaic mamma.
" That is cutting," said Edward : " but soyons
de notre si^le ; flunkyism is on the decline. *I11
give you something to put in both your pipes :"
Honor and rank from no condition rise.
Act well thy part ; in that the honor lies.
"Yes, yes," said Mrs. Dodd, "only first
choose your part : and let your choice be rea-
sonable."
"Mine was Hobson's; who never chooses ilL
Come, come," said he, and appealed calmly to
their reason : by which means he made no im-
pression at all. Then he happened to say, "Be-
sides, I must do something ; I own to yon I am
more cast down than I choose to show. Mo*
ther, I feel like lead ever since she died." Now
on this their faces filled with sympathy directly.
So encouraged he went on to say : * * but when
I got my hand on that old dufi^er's collar, and
lowered him to the ladder, and the fire shot
roaring ^out of the window after him, too late to
eat him, and the crowd cheered the fireman and
me, I did feel warm about the waistcoat, and,
for the first time this ever so long, life seemed
not quite ended ; I felt there was a little bit of
good left that even a poor dunce like me could
do, and she could approve ; if she can look down
and see me, as I hope she can."
"There, there," said Mrs. Dodd, tearfully, **I
VERY HARD CASH.
185
am disanned. But, my darling, I do not know
what you are talking about : stay ; why Edward',
surely I hope ^you were not the young gentle-
man in the paper : the one that risked his life
so nobly ; so foolishly if it was you."
"Why, mother, didn't I tell you it was me?"
said Edward, coloring.
"No, that you did not,'* said Julia. "Was
it ? was it ? oh do be quick and tell one. There,
it was."
"Well it was: ah, I remember now; that
splendiferous account shut me^p. Oh I say,
^dn't the ^Tiser pitch it strong?"
"Not at all," cried. Julia, "I believe every
word, and ever so much more. Mamma, we
have got a hero : and here he is at breakfast with
us, like an ordinary mortal." She rose sudden-
ly with a burst of her old fire and fell upon him,
and kissed him, and said earnestly how proud
she was of him : " and so is mamma ; she may
say what she likes."
"Proud of him I ah that I am ; very proud:
and very unhappy. Heroes are my horror.
How often and how earnestly have I prayed
that my son might not be brave like his father,
but stay quietly at home out of harm's way."
Here remonstrance ended: the members of
this amiy, happy by natuie, though unhappy
by accident, all knew when to yield to each
other.
Unfortunately, in proportion as all these ex-
citements, great and small, died, and her lif^ be-
came quiet and uniform, the depth of Julia's
wound showed itself more and more. She nev-
er sang nor hummed, as she used to do, going
about the house. She never laughed. She did
burst out with fervid sentiments now and then,
but very rarely: on the whole, a pensive lan-
guor took the place of her lovely impetuosity.
Tears rushed in a moment to her eyes with no
visible cause. She often stole to the window,
and looked all up and down the street: and,
when she was out of doors, she looked down ev-
ery side street she passed ; and sometimes, when
a quick light step came behind them, or she saw
a tall young gentleman at a great distance, her
hand twitched her mother's arm or trembled on
it. And always, when, they came home, she
lingered a moment at the doorstep and looked
all round before she went in.
At all these signs one half of Mrs. Dodd's
heart used to boil with indignation, and the
other half melt with pity ; for she saw her daugh-
ter was looking for " the Wretch." Indeed Mrs.
Dodd began to fear she had done unwisely in
ignoring "the Wretch ;" Julia's thoughts dwelt
on him none the less ; indeed all the more, as it
seemed; so the topic interdicted by tacit con-
sent bade fair to become a barrier between her
and Mrs. Dodd, hitherto her bosom friend as
wel^as her mother. This was intolerable to poor
Mrs. Dodd : and at last she said one day, ** My
darling, do not be afraid of me ; rob me of your
hajpy thoughts if you will, but oh not of your
sad ones."
Julia began to cry directly. "Oh no, mam-
ma," she sobbed, "do not you encourage me in-
my folly. I know I have thrown away my affec-
tions on one who ' I shall never see him again :
shall I, mamma? Oh to think I can say those
words, and yet go living on."
M
Dodd sighed. "And if you saw him,
woflfd tliat mend the chain he has chosen to
break?"
"I don't know ; but if I could only see him,
to part friends ! It is cruel to hate himvnow he
has lost his sister ; and then I have got her mes-
sage to give him. And I want to ask him why
he was afraid of me ; why he could not tell me
he had altered his mind : did he think I wanted
to have him against his will? Oh, mamma,"
said she, imploringly, "he seemed to love me;
he seemed all truth. I am a poor unfortunate
girl."
Mrs. Dodd had only caresses to soothe her
with. She could not hold out any hopes.
One day Julia asked her, timidly, if she might
be a district visitor: "My dear friend was : and
advised me to be one too ; but I was willful in
those days, and chose to visit by fits and starts,
and be independent. I am humbled now a lit-
tle; may I, mamma? Since she died every
word of hers seems a law to me."
Mrs. Dodd assented cordially, as she would to
any thing else her wounded one had proposed.
This project brought Julia into communica-
tion with the new cura(e; and who should it
prove to be but Mr. Hurd ? At sight of him
she turned white and red, and the whole scene
in the church came back to her. But Mr. Hurd
showed considerable tact for so young a man ;
he spoke to her in accents of deep respect, but
confined his remarks strictly to the matter in
hand. She told her mother when she got home,
and expressed her gratitude to Mr. Hurd, but
said she wished they did not live in the same
parish with him. This feeling, however, wore
off' by degrees as her self-imposed duties brought
her more and more into contact with him, and
showed her his good qualities.
As for Mr. Hurd, he saw and understood her
vivid emotion at sight of him ; saw and pitied ;
not without wonder that so beautiful a creature
should have been jilted. And from the first he
marked his sense of Alfred's conduct by showing
her a profound and chivalrous respect, which he
did not bestow on other young ladies in his par-
ish ; on the contrary, he rather received homage
from them than bestowed it. By-and-by he saw
Julia suppress if not hide her own sorrow, and
go sore-hearted day by day to comfort the poor
and afflicted': he admired and almost venerated
her for this. He called often on Mrs. Dodd,
and was welcome. She concealed her address
for the present from all her friends except Dr.
Sampson; but. Mr. Hurd had discovered her;
and ladies do not snub the clergy. Moreover,
Mr. Hurd was a gentleman, and inclined to
High Church. This she liked. He was very
good-looking too, and quiet in his manners.
Above all, he seemed to be doing her daughter
good ; for Julia and Mr. Hurd had one great
sentiment in common. When the intimacy had
continued some time on these easy terms, Mrs.
Dodd saw that Mr. Hurd was falling in love
with Julia, and that sort of love warm, but re-
spectful, which soon leads to marriage, especial-
ly when the lover is a clergyman. This was
more than Mrs. Dod^^rgained for; she did
not want to part witl^B^daughter, and under
other circumstanc^^HRl have drawn in her
horns. But Mr.^^fa undisguised homage
gratified her hmmHr heart, coming so soon
186
VERY HARD CASH.
after that great insult to her daughter ; andJhen
she said to herself, ."At any rate he wilnlelp
me cure her of *the Wretch.' " She was not
easy in her mind, though ; could not tell what
would come of it all. So she watched her daugh-
ter's pensive face as only mothers watch, and
saw a little of the old peach bloom creeping back.
That was irresistible : she let things go their
own way, and hoped for the best.
CHAPTER XLH.
The tenacity of a private lunatic asylum is
unique. A little push behind your back and you
slide into one ; but to get out again is to scale a
precipice with crumbling sides. Alfred, luckier
than many, had twice nearly escaped : yet now
he was tighter in than ever. His father at first
meant to give him but a year or two of it, and
let him out on terms, his spirit broken, and Julia
married. But his sister's death was fatal to him.
By Mrs. Hardie's settlement the portion of any
child of hers dying a minor, or intestate and
childless, was to go to the other children ; so
now the prisoner had mherited his sister's ten
thousand pounds, and a good slice of his be-
reaved enemy's and father's income. But this
doubled his father's bitterness that he, the un-
loved one, should be enriched by the death of
the adored one ! and also tempted his cupidity :
and unfortunately shallow legislation conspired
with that temptation. For when an English-
man, sane or insane, is once pushed behind his
back into a mad-house, those relatives who have
hidden him from the public eye, t. c, from the
eye of justice, can grab hold of his money be-
hind his back, as they certified away his wits
behind his back, and can administer it in the
dark, and embezzle it, chanting "But for us the
' dear deranged' would waste it." Nor do the
monstrous enactments, which confer this uncon-
stitutional power on subjects, and shield its ex-
ercise from the light and safeguard of Publicity,
affix any penalty to the abuse of that power, if
by one chance in a thousand detected. In Lu-
nacy Law extremes of intellect meet : the British
senator plays at Satan ; and tempts human frailty
and cupidity beyond what they are able to bear.
So behold a son at twenty-one years of age
devoted by a father to imprisonment for life.
But stop a minute ; the mad statutes, which by
the threefold temptation of Facility, Obscurity,
and Impunity, insure the occasional incarcera-
tion and frequent detention of sane but moneyed
men, do provide, though feebly, for their bare
liberation, provided they don't yield to the genius
loci, and the natural efiect of confinement pliis
anguish, by going mad, or dying. The Com-
missioners of Lunacy had power to liberate Al-
fred in spite of his relations. And that power, -
you know, he had soberly but earnestly implored
them to exercise.
After a delay that seemed as strange to him
as postponing a hand to a drowning man, he re-
ceived an official letter from Whitehall. With
bounding heart he broka th e seal, and devoured
the contents. They
"SiB, By order of
Lnnacjr I am directed
immissioners of
you that they
are in the receipt of your letter of the 29th ulti-
mo, which will be laid before the board at their
next meeting. I am, etc."
Alfred was bitterly disappointed at the small
advance he had made. However, it was a great
point to learn that his letters were allowed to go
to the Commissioners at all, and would be at-
tended to by degrees.
He waited and waited, and struggled hard to
possess his soul in patience ; at times his brain
throbbed and His blood boiled, and he longed
to kill the remorseless, kindless monsters who
robbed him of his liberty, his rights as a man,
and his Julia : but he knew this would not do ;
that what they wanted was to gnaw his reason
away, and then who could disprove that he had
always been mad ? Now he felt that brooding
on his wrong would infuriate him ; so he clench-
ed his teeth, and vowed a solemn vow that no-
thing should drive him mad. By advice of a
patient he wrote again to the Commissioners
begging for a Special Commission to inquire into
his case; and, this done, with rare stoicism,
self-defense, and wisdom in one so young, he
actually sat down to read hard for his first class.
Now, to do this, he wanted the Ethics, Politics,
and Rhetoric of AiiBtotle, certain Dialogues of
Plato, the Comedies of Aristophanes, the first-
class Historians, Demosthenes, Lucretius, a
Greek Testament, Wheeler's Analysis, Prideanx,
Home, and several books of reference, sacred
and profane. But he could not get these books
without Dr. Wycherley, and unfortunately he
had cut that worthy dead in his jown asylum.
"The Scornful Dog" had to eat wormwood
pudding and humble pie. He gulped these deli-
cacies as he might ; and Dr. Wycherley showed
excellent qualities ; he entered into his maniac^s
studies with singular alacrity, supplied him with
several classics from his own shelves, and bor-
rowed the rest at the London Library. Nor did
his zeal stop there: he offered to read an hour
a day with him, and owned it would afibrd him
the keenest gratification to turn out an Oxford
first classman from his asylum. This remark
puzzled Alfred, and set him thinking ; it bore a
subtle family rescmblancq to the observations
he heard every day from the patients ; it was so
one-eyed.
Soon Alfred became the Doctor's pet maniac.
They were often closeted together in high dis-
course, and indeed discussed Psychology, Meta-
physics, and Moral Philosophy with indefatigable
zest, long after common sense would have pcu^ed
them both off to bed, the donkeys. In fact, they
got so thick that Alfred thought it only fair to
say one day, " Mind, Doctor, all these pleasant
fruitful hours we spend together so sweetly will
not prevent my indicting you for a conspiracy ps
soon as I get out : it will rob the retribution of
half its relish though." *
"Ah, my dear young friend and fellow-stn-
dent," said the. Doctor, blandly, "let us not '
sacrifice the delights of our profitable occupation
of imbibing the sweets of intellectual intercourse
to vague speculations as to our future destiny.
During the course of a long and not, I trust,
altogether unprofitable, career, it has not unfre-
quently been my lot to find -myself on the Tcrg
of being indicted, sued, assassinated, hung. Yet
here I sit, as yet unimmolated on the fdtar of
VERY HARD CASH.
187
phrenetic vengeance. This is ascribable to the
fact that my friends and papils always adopt a
more favorable opinion of me long before I part
with them ; and ere many days (and this I divine
by infallible indicia) your cure will commence in
earnest ; and, in proportion as you progress to
perfect restoration of the powers of judgment,
you will grow in suspicion of the fact of being
under a delusion or rather I should say a very
slight perversion and perturbation of the forces
of your admirable intellect and a proper sub-
ject for temporary seclusion. Indeed this con-
sciousness of insanity is the one diagnostic of
sanity that never deceives me : and, on the other
hand, an obstinate persistence in the hypothesis
of perfect rationality demonstrates the fact that
insanity yet lingers in the convolutions and re-
cesses of the brain, and that it would not be hu-
mane as yet to cast the patient on a world in
which he would inevitably be taken some ungen-
erous advantage of."
Alfred ventured to inquire whether this was
not rather paradoxical.
"Certainly," said the ready Doctor; "and
paradoxicality is an indicial characteristic of
truthtin all matters beyond the comprehension
of the vulgar."
"ThatsoMwcfe rational," said the maniac, very
dryly.
One afternoon, grinding hard for his degree,
he was invited down stairs to see two visitors.
At that word he found out how prison tries
the nerves. He trembled with hope and fear.
It was but for a moment : he bathed his face and
hands to compose himself; made his toilet care-
iFully, and went into the drawinpf-room, all on his
guard. There he found Dr. Wycherley and two
gentlemen ; one was an ex-physician, the other
an ex-barrister, who had consented to resign fee-
lessness and brieflessness for a snug 1600 a year
at Whitehall. After a momentary greeting they
continued the conversation with Dr. Wycherley,
and scarcely noticed Alfred. They were there
pro forma ; a* plausible lunatic had pestered the
Board, and extorted a visit of ceremony. Alfred's
blood boiled, but he knew it must not boil over.
He contrived to throw a short, pertinent remark
in every now and then. This, being done polite-
ly, told, and at last Dr. Eskell, Commissioner of
Lunacy, smiled and turned to him. " Allow me
to put a few questions to you."
**^he more the better, Sir," said Alfred.
Dr. Eskell then asked him to describe minute-
ly, and in order, all he had done since seven
o'clock that day. And he did it. Examined
him in the multiplication table. And he did it.
And, while he was applying these old-fashioned
tests, Wycherley's face wore an expression of
pity, that was truly comical. Now this Dr. Es-
kell had an itch for the classics : so he went on
to say, " You have been a scholar, I hear."
"I am not old enough to be a scholar, Sir,"
said Alfred ; "but I am a student."
" Well, well ; now can you tell me what fol-
lows this line ?
Josque datum sceleri canimos populamque potentem.**
"Why, not at the moment."
" Oh, surely you can," said Dr. Eskell, iron-
ically. "It is in a tolerably well-known pas-
sage. Come, try."
"Well, ni /ry,"8aid Alfred, sneering secretly.
" Let me see :
Mum mnm .mnm populumque potentem.
In sua victrici conversum viscera deztr&.**
" Quite right ; now go on, if you can."
Alfred, who was playing with his examiner all
this time, pretended to cudgel his brains a bit,
then went on, and warmed involuntarily with
the lines :
^^ Cognatasque acies et rupto foedere regni
Certatum totis concussi viribus oifhLi
In commune nefas ; infestis que olma Rignis
Signa, pares aquilas, et pila minantia pilis."
" He seems to have a good memory," said the
examiner, rather taken aback.
"Oh, that is nothing for him," observed
Wycherley.
'' He has Horace all by heart ; you'd wonder :
And mouths out Homer's Greek like thunder.**
The great faculty of Memory thus tested.
Dr. Eskell proceeded to a greater; Judgment.
" Spirited lines those, Sir."
"Yes, Sir; but surely rather tumid. *The
whole forces of the shaken globe ?' But little
poets love big words."
" I see; you agree with Horace, that so great
a work as an epic poem should open modestly,
with an invocation."
" No,' Sir," said Alfred. " I think that rather
an arbitrary and peevish canon of friend Horace.
The ^neid, you know, begins just as he says an
Epic ought not to begin ; and the -^neid is the
greatest Latin Epic. In the next place, the use
of Modesty is to keep a man from writing an
Epic Poem at all ; but, if he will have that im-
pudence, why then he had better have the cour-
age to plunge into the Castalian stream, like
Virgil and Lucan, not crawl in funking and
holding on by the Muse's apron-string. But
excuse me quorsum haec tam putida tendunt ?
what have the Latin poets to do with this mod-
ern's Sanity or Insanity ?"
Mr. Abbott snorted contemptuously in support
of the query. But Dr. Eskell smiled, and said :
" Continue to answer me as intelligently, and
you may find it has a great deal to do with it."
Alfred took this hint, and said, artfully, "Mine
was a thoughtless remark ; of course a gentle-
man of your experience can test the mind on
any subject, however trivial." He added, pit-
eously, " Still, if you would but leave the poets,
who are all half crazy themselves, and examine
mo in the philosophers, of Antiquity, surely it
would be a higher criterion."
Dr. Wycherley explained in a patronizing
whisper, "He labors under an abnormal con-
tempt for poetry, dating from his attack. Pre-
viously to that he actually obtained a prize poem
himself."
" Well, Doctor ; and after that am I wrong to
despise poetry ?"
They might have comprehended this on paper,
but spoken it was too keen for them all three.
The visitors stared. Dr. Wycherley came to their
aid : " You might examine my young friend for
hours, and not detect the one crevice in the bril-
liancy of his intellectual armor."
The maniac made a face as of one that drink-
eth verjuice sudden ly.^ "For pity's sake. Doc-
tor, don't be so ing||^|te : say a spot on the
brilliancy, or a o^^^Hthe armor; but not a
crevice in the h]^^H|r My good friend here,
gentlemen, dc^^^^Bnjectural certificates and
! broken metaplBB^He dislocatea ma^^s. \sss^%^
188
VERY HARD CASH.
to my sorrow, than even his friend Shakspeare,
whom he thinks a greater philosopher than Ar-
istotle, and who calls the murder of an individ-
ual sleeper the murder of sleep, confounding
the concrete with the abstract, and then talks
' of taking arms against a sea of troubles j query,
a cork jacket and a flask of brandy."
"Well, Mr. Hardie," said Dr. Eskell, rather
feebly, "let me tell you those passages which so
shock your jikuliar notions are among the most
applauded."
" Very likely, Sir," retorted the maniac, whose
logic was up ; " but applauded only in a nation
where the jloods clap their hands every Sunday
morning, and we all pray for peace, giving as
our exquisite reason that we have got the God
of hosts on our side in war."
Mr. Abbott, the other Commissioner, had en-
dured all this chat with an air of weary indif-
ference. He now said to Dr. Wycherley, "I
wish to put you a question or two in private."
Alfred was horribly frightened : this was the
very dodge that had ruined him at Silverton
House. "Oh no, gentlemen," he cried, im-
ploringly. "Let me have fair play. You have
given me no secret audience; then why give
my accuser one ? I am charged with a single
delusion; for mercy's sake go to the point at
once, and examine me on that head."
"Now you talk sense," said Mr. Abbott; as
if the previous topics had been chosen by Alfred.
"But that will excite him," objected Dr. Es-
kell: "it always does excite them."
"It excites the insane, but not the sane,"
said Alfred. * * So there is another test ; you will
observe whether it excites we." Then, before
they could interrupt him, he glided on : " The
supposed hallucination is this: I strongly sus-
pect my father, a bankrupt and therefore dis-
honest banker, of having somehow misappro-
priated a sum of fourteen thousand pounds, which
sum* is known to have been brought from India
by one Captain Dodd, and has disappeared."
"Stop a minute," said Mr. Abbott. "Who
knows it, besides you ?"
* * The whole family of the Dodds. They will
show you his letter from India, announcing his
return with the money."
"Where do they live?"
"Albion Villa, Barkington."
Mr. Abbott noted the address in his book,
and Alfred, mightily cheered and encouraged
by this sensible act, went on to describe the va-
rioni indications which, insufficient singly, had
by their united force driven him to his conclu-
sion. When he described David's appearance
and words on his father's lawn at night, Wycher-
ley interrupted him, quietly: "Are you quite
sure this was not a vision, a phantom of the
mind heated by your agitation, and your sus-
picions?"
Dr. Eskell nodded assent, knowing nothing
about the matter.
" Pray, Doctor, was I the only person who saw
this vision ?" inquired Alfred, slyly.
"I conclude so," said Wycherley, with an ad-
mirable smile.
"But why do yon omtj^Q so? because you
aPB one of. those ^^wP|w^ & circle of as-
samptioDs. Now it haB^^t Captain Dodd
was seen and felt on thflj^^Bcm by tluree peT-
sona besides myself. " ^^BP
" Name them," said Mr. Abbott, sharply.
"A policeman called Reynolds, another po-
liceman, whose name I don't know, and Miss
Julia Dodd. The policemen helped me lift
Captain Dodd off the grass, Sir ; Julia met us
close by, and we four carried Ehr. Wycherley*s
phantom home together to Albion ViUa."
Mr. Abbott noted down all the names, and
then turned to Dr. Wycherley. "What do you
say to that?"
"I say it is a very important statement," said
the Doctor, blandly ; " and that I am sure my
young friend would not advance it unless he was
firmly persuaded of its reality.'*
"Much obliged. Doctor; and yon would not
contradict me so rashly in a matter I know lUl
about and you know nothing about, if it was not
your fixed habit to found fkcts on theories in-
stead of theories on facts."
"There, that is enough," said Mr. Abbott.
" I have brought you both to an issue at last. I
shall send to Barkington and examine the po-
licemen and the Dodds."
" Oh, thank you. Sir," cried Alfred, with emo-
tion. "If you once apply genuine tests like
that to my case, I shall not be long in prison."
" Prison ?" said Wycherley, reproachfully.
" Have you any complaint, then, to make of
your treatment here?" inquired Dr. Eskell.
"No, no, Sir," said Alfred, warmly. "Dr.
Wycherley is the very soul of humanity. Here
are no tortures, no handcuffs or leg-locks, no
brutality, no insects that murder Sleep without
offense to Logic. In my last asylum the attend-
ants inflicted violence; here they are only al-
lowed to endure it And, geniiemen, I must
tell you a noble trait in my enemy there. No-
thing can make him angry with madmen ; their
lies, their groundless and narrow suspicions of
him, their deplorable ingratitude to him, of
which I see examples every day that rile me on
his account; all these things seem togliji^ off
him, baffled by the infinite kindness of his heart,
and the incomparable sweetness of his temper;
and he reti^ms the duffers good for evil with
scarcely an effort."
At this unexpected tribute the water stood in
the Doctor's eyes. It was no more . than, t^le
truth ; but this was the first man he had met in-
telligent enough to see his good qualities clearly
and express them eloquently.
"In short," continued Alfred, "to be happy
in his house, all a man wants is to be insane.
But, as I am not insane, I am miserable: no
convict, no galley-slave is so wretched as I am,
gentlemen. And what is my crime ?"
" Well,.w?ll," said Dr.Eskell, kindly, " I think
it likely yoa-, yill not be very long in confine-
ment." They then civilly dismissed him ; and
on his departure asked Dr. Wycherley his can-
did opinion. Dr. Wycherley aid he was now
nearly cured ; his ability to discuss his delusion
without excitement was of itself a proof of that.
But in another month he would be better still.
The Doctor concluded his remarks thus :
"However, gentlemen, you have heard him:
now judge for yourselves whether any body can
be as clever as he is, without the presence of
more or less abnormal excitement of the organs
of intelligence."
It 7id& &)acY^t ^j iox Alfired : he saw he bad
VERY HARD CASH.
189
^sioners, and, as lack does not alwa^rs come sin-
gle, after many yain attempts to jget a letter post-
ed to Julia, he found ^his very afternoon a nurse
was going away next day. He offered her a
guinea, and she agreed to post a letter. Oh the
happiness it was to the poor prisoner to write it,
and unburden his heart and tell his wrongs.
He kept his manhood for his enemies ; his ^ars
fell on the paper he sent to his forlorn bride.
He had no misgivings of her truth : he judged
her by himsdf : gave her credit for anxiety, but
not for doubt. He concluded a long, ardent,
tender letter by begging her to come and see
him, and, if refused admission, to publish his
case in the newspapers, and employ a lawyer to
proceed against all the parties concerned in his
detention. Day after d^ ho waited for an an-
swer to his letter ; none came. Then he began
to be sore perplexed, and torn with agonizing
doubts. What if her mind was poisoned too !
What if she thought him mad ! What if some
misfortune had befallen her ! What if she had
believed him dead, and her heart had broken !
Hitherto he had seen his own trouble chiefly:
but now he began to think day and night on
hers; and though he ground on for his degree
not to waste time, and not to be driven mad, yet
it was almost superhuman labor; sighs issued
from his laboring breast while his hard, indom-
itable brain labored away, all uphill, at Aristo-
tle's ftvisions and Definitions.
On the seventh day, the earliest the mad stat-
ute allowed, the two Commissioners returned,
and this time Mr. Abbott took the lead, and
told him that the policeman Reynolds had left
the force, and the Dodds had left the town, and
were in London, but their address not known.
At this Alfred was much agitated. She was
alive, and perhaps near him.
"I have heard a good deal of yoiir story,"
said Mr. Abbott, "and, coupling it with what
we have seen of you, we think your relatives have
treated you, and a young lady of whom every
body speaks with respect "
"God bles^ you for saying -that! God bless
you !"
" treated you both, I say, with needless se-
verity."
Dr. E^kell then told him the result of the Spe-
cie Commission, now closed. **I believe you
to be cured," said he ; ** and Mr. Abbott has
some doubts whether you were ever positively
insane. We shall lay your case before the Board
at once, and the Board will write to the party
who signed the order, and propose to him to
discharge you at once."
At this magnificent project Alfred's connte-
nimce fell, and he stared with astonishment.
"What! have you not the power to do me jus-
tice, without soliciting Injustice to help you?"
" The Board has the power," said Dr. Eskell ;
"but. for many reasons they exercise it with
prudence and reserve. Besides, it is only fair
to those who have signed the order to give them
the graceful office of liberating the patient : it
paves the way to reconciliation."
Alfred sighed. The Commissioners, to keep
up his heart, promised to send him copies of
their correspondence with the person who had
signed the order. "Then," said Mr. Abbott,
kindly, "you will see your case is not being neg-
The following, precis, though imperfect, will
give some idea of the correspondence :
1. The Board wrote to Thomas Hardie, letting
him know the result of the Special Commission,
and requesting him to discharge his nephew.
Thomas quaked. Richard smiled, and advised
Thomas to take no fiotice. By this a week was
gained to Injustice, and lost to Justice.
2. The Board pointed out Thomas Hardio*s
inadvertence in not answering No. 1 ; inclosed
copy of it, and pressed for a reply.
Thomas quaked, Richard smiled.
8. Thomas Hardie to the Board. From what
he had heard, it would be premature to discharge
Alfred. Should prefer to wait a month or two.
4. Alfred to Board warning them against this
proposal. To postpone justice was to refuse jus-
tice, certainly for a time, probably forever.
5. The Board to Thomas Hardie, suggesting
that if not released immediately he ought to have
a trial i. e., be allowed to go into the world with
a keeper.
6. Alfred to the Board begging that Dr. Samp-
son, an honest independent physician, might be
allowed to visit him and report to them.
7. The Board to Alfred declining this for the
present as unadvisable, they being in correspond-
ence with the person who had signed the order
with a view to his liberation.
8. T. Hardie to the Board shuffling, and re-
questing time to make further inquiries.
9. The Board suggesting there should be some
reasonable limit to delay. -
10. T. Hardie asking for a month to see about
it.
11. The Board suggesting a week.
12. Alfred Hardie asking permission to be vis-
ited by a solicitor with a view to pfotoction of
his liberty and property.
18. The Board declining this, pending their
correspondence with other parties; but asking
him for the names and addresses of all fais
trustees.
14. Thomas Hardie informing the Board he
had now learned Alfred had threatened to kill
his father as soon as ever he should get out, and
leaving the Board to discharge him on their own
responsibility if they chose after this warning :
but declining peremptorily to do so himself.
16, 16, 17. The Board, by advice of Mr. Ab-
bott, to Alfred's trustees, warning them against
any alienation of Alfred's money, under the no-
tion that he was legally a lunatic : and saying
that a public Inquiry appeared inevitable, owing
to Mr. T. Hardie's unwillingness to enter into
their views.
18. To Alfred, inquiring whether he wished to
encounter the expense of Chancery proceedings
to establish his sanity ?
19. Alfred to the Board, imploring them to
use their powers and discharge him without fur-
ther delay, and assuring them he meditated no
violence on his liberation, but should proceed
against all parties under legal advice.
20. The Board to T. Hardie, warning him
that he must in future pay Alfred's maintenance
in Asylum out of his own pocket, and pressing
him either to diB^|M^the young man, or else
to apply to' theJ^^^Bancellor for a Commis-
sion de Lunat|^^^^^K^^^^%sASKsi.^2i8^%^^^
190
VERY HARD CASH.
21. T. Hai'die respcctfally declining to do ei-
tlicr, but reminding the Commissioners that the
matter could be thrown into Chancery without
his consent, only the expense, which would be
tremendous, would fall on the lunatic's estate ;
which might hereafter be regretted by the party
himself. He concluded by promising to come
to town and visit Alfred with his family physi-
cian, and write further in a week.
Having thus thrown dust in the eyes of the
Board, Thomas Hardie and Richard consulted
with a notoriously unscrupulous mad-house keep-
er in the suburbs of liOndon, and effected a
master-stroke ; whereof anon.
The correspondence had already occupied
three months, and kept Alfred in a fever of the
mind ; of all the maddening things with which
be hud been harassed by the pretended curers
of Insanity, this had tried him hardest. To see
a dozen honest gentlemen wishing to do justice,
able to do justice by one manly stroke of the
pen, yet forego their vantage-ground, and de-
scend to coax an able rogue to do their duty,
and undo his own interest and rascality I To
see a strong cause turned into a weak one by
the timidity of champions clad by law in com-
plete steel; and a rotten cause, against which
Law and Power, as well as Truth, Justice, aud
Common Sense, had now declared, turned into
a strong one by the pluck and cunning of his
one unarmed enemy I The ancients feigned that
the ingenious gods tortured Tantalus in hell by
over-present thirst, and water flowing to just the
outside of his lips. A Briton can thirst for lib-
erty as hard as Tantalus or hunted deer can
thirst for cooling springs: and this soul-gnaw-
ing correspondence brought liberty, and citizen-
hood, and love, and ha])piness, to the lips of Al-
fred's burnmg, pining, aching heart, again, and
again, aud again ; then carried them away from
him in mockery. Oh the sickening anguish of
Hope deferred, and deferred :
The lloll it is in suing long to bide.
But indeed his hopes began to sicken for good
when he found that the Board would not allow
any honest independent physician to visit him,
or any solicitor to see him. At first, indeed,
they refused it because Mr. Thomas Hardio was
going to let him out : but when T. Hardie would
not move at their request, athcn, on a fresh ap-
plication, they refused it, giving as their reason
that they had already refused it. Yet in so keen
a battle he would not throw away a chance : so
bo determined to win Dr. Wycherlcy altogether
by hook or by crook, and get a certificate of san-
ity from him. Now a single white lie, he knew,
would do the trick. Ho had only to say that
Hamlet was mad. And '* Hamlet was mad" is
easily said.
Dr. Wycherley, you see, was a collector of
mad people, and collectors are always amateurs,
and very seldom connoisseurs. His turn of mind
co-operating with his interests, led him to put
down any man a lunatic whose intellect was man-
ifestly superior to his own. Alfred Hardio, and
one or two more contemporaries, had suffered by
' "^ ir*. Nor did the
I, according to
an illusion
moral luna-
this humor of the good
dend escape him entire!
Wycherley, was sl mt
about a precipice ; Jolm ^
tic in whom the affections
a moping maniac' with homicidal paroxysms and
nocturnal, visions; Paul an incoherent lunatic,
who in his writings flies off at a tangent, and
who admits having once been the victim of a
photopsic illusion in broad daylight ; Nebuchad-
nezzar was a lycanthropical lunatic ; Joan of
Arc a theomaniac; Bobby Burton and Oliver
Cn^well were melancholy maniacs ; Napoleon
was an ambitious maniac, in whom the sense of
impossibility became gradually extinguished by
visceral and cerebral derangement; Luther a
phrenetic patient of the old demoniac breed, al-
luded to by Shakspeare :
One sees more devils than vast Hell can h(dd.
That is the madman.
But without any disrespect to any of these
gentlemen, he assigned the golden crown of In-
sanity to Hamlet. To be sure this character
tells his friends in the play he shall feign insan-
ity, and swears them not to reveal the reason.
And after this hint to his friends and the audi-
ence (it is notorious he was not written for read-
ers) he keeps his word, and does it as cleverly as
if his name was David or Brutus instead of Ham-
let; indeed, like Edgar, he rather overdoes it,
and so puzzles his enemies in the play, any cer^
tain German criticasters and English mad doc-
tors in the closet, and does not puzzle his bosom
friend in the play one bit, nor the pit for whom
he was created. Add to this his sensibility, and
his kindness to others, and his eloquent ^ef at
the heart-rending situation, which his father's
and mother's son was placed in, and had brains
to realize, though his psychological critics, it
seems, have not ; and, add to all that, the pro-
digious extent of his mipd, his keen observation,
his deep reflection, his brilliant fancy united for
once in a way with the great Academic, or judi-
cial, intellect, that looks down and sees all the
sides -of every thing and what can this rare
intellectual compound be ? Wycherley decided
the question. Hamlet was too much greater in
the world of mind than S. T. Coleridge and his
German criticasters, too much higher, deeper,
and broader than Esquirol, Pinel, Sauze, Has-
1am, Munro, Pagan, Wigan, Prichard, Rom-
berg, Wycherley, and such small deer, to be any
thing but a madman.
Now, in their midnight discussions, Dr. Wy-
cherley more than once alluded to the insanity
of Hamlet ; and offered proofs. But Alfred de-
clined the subject as too puerile. ' ' A man most
exist before he can be insane," said the Oxonian
philosopher, severe in youthful gravity. But
when he found that Dr. Wycherley, had' he lived
in Denmark at the time, would have conferred
cannily with Hamlet's uncle, removed that wor-
thy relative's disbelief in Hamlet's insanity, and
signed the young gentleman away behind his
back into a lunatic asylum, Alfred began to sym-
pathize with this posthumous victim of Psycho-
logical Science. *'I believe the bloke was no
madder than I am," said he. He got the play,
studied it afresh, compared the fiction with the
legend,- compared Hamlet humbugging his ene-
mies and their tool, Ophelia, with Hamlet open-
ing his real mind to himself or his Horatio the
very next moment; contrasted the real madness
the author has portrayed in the plays of Hamk%
and Lear by the side of these extravagant imi-
t&\\0TvS) V &v7e, \i i^ossible^ even dunces, and
Saul \ dT^^am&Ta, a.^ m^XAx& %[:Aiii \)^\i^ NaSusb. m
VERY HARD CASH.
191
by the latter ; and at their next sdance pitched
into the Doctor'i|MBt Chimera, and what with
logic, fact, ridicofe, and the author's lines,
knocked it to atoms double quick.
Now, in their midnight discussions, Dr. Wy-
cherley had always handled the question of Al-
fred Hardie's Sanity or Insanity with a philo-
sophical coolness the young man admired, and
found it hard to emulate ; but this philosophic
calmness deserted him the moment Hamlet's
insanity ^as disputed, and the harder he was
pressed, the redder, the angrier, the louder, the
more confused the Psychological physician be-
came ; and presently he got furious, and burst
out of the antispasmodic or roundabout style,
and called Alfred a d d ungrateful, insolent
pnppy, and went stamping about the room ; and,
finally, to the young man's horror, fell down in
a fit of an Epileptic character, grinding his teeth
and foaming at the mouth.
Alfred was filled with regret, and, though
alarmed, had the presence of mind not to call
for asisistance. The fit was a very mild one in
reality, though horrible to look at. The Doc-
tor came to, and asked feebly for wine. Alfred
got it him, and the Doctor, with a mixture of
cunning and alarm in his eye, said he had faint-
ed away, or nearly. Alfred assented coaxingly,
and looked sheepish. After this he took care
never to libel Hamlet's intellect again by deny-
ing his insanity ; for he was now convinced of
what he had long half suspected, thab the Doc-
tor had a bee in his own bonnet ; and Alfred
had studied true inVinity all this time, and knew
how inhumane it is to oppose a monomaniac's
foible ; it only infuriates and worries him. No
power can convince him.
But now ho resolved to play on the Doctor's
foible. It went against his conscience ; but the
temptation was so strong. He came to him with
a hang-dog air :
"Doctor," said he, "I have been thinking
over your arguments, and I capitulate. If Ham-
let ever existed, he was as mad as a March hare."
And he blushed at this his first quibble.
Dr. Wycherley beamed with satisfaction.
**My young friend, this gives me sincere
pleasure not on my account, but on your own.
There goes one of your illusions then. Now
tell me the 14,000! Have you calmly re-
considered that too ?"
Alfred hung his head, and looked guiltier and
guiltier.
"Why," said he, "that never amounted to
any thing more than a strong suspicion. It has
long ceased to occupy my mind in excess. How-
over, should I ever be so fortunate as to recover
my liberty, I have no objection to collect the ev-
idence about it, pro and con, and then make
you the judge instead of myself." This he de-
livered with an admirable appearance of indif-
ference.
"Very well, Sir," said the Doctor, dryly.
"Then, now, I have a piece of good news for
you."
" Oh, Doctor, what is that ?"
"Your cure u complete; that is all I Yoa
are now a sane man, as sane as I am."
Alfred was a little disappointed at this piece
of news ; but, recovering himself, asked him to
certify that, and let bim send the certificate to
the Board. Dr. Wycherley said he would, with
pleasure.
" I'll bring it to you when I make my round,"
said he.
Alfred retired triumphant, and went in at
Plato with a good heart.
In about an hour Dr. Wycherley paid him the
promised visit. But what may not an hour bring
forth ? He came with mortification and regret
in his face to tell Alfred that an order of trans-
fer had been signed by the proper parties, and
countersigned by two Commissioners, and he
was to go to Dr. Wolfs asylum that day.
Alfred groaned.
"I knew my father would outwit my feeble
friends somehow or other," said he. "What is
his game ? Do you know ?"
"I suppose to obtain a delay, and meantime
get you into an asylum where they will tell the
Commissioners you are worse again, and perhaps
do something to make their words good. Dr. .
Wolf, between ourselves, will say or do almost
any thing for money. And his asylum is con-
ducted on the old system, though he pretends
not."
" My dear friend," said Alfred, " will you do
me a favor?"
" How could I deny you any thing at this sor-
rowful moment?"
"Here is an advertisement I want inserted in
the Morning Advertiser,^*
"Oh, I can't do that, I fear."
"Look at it before you break my heart by re-
fusing me."
Dr. Wycherley looked at it, and said it was
innocent, being unintelligible, and he would in-
sert it himself. .
"Three insertions, dear Doctor," said Alfrea.
"Here is the money."
The Doctor then told him sorrowfully he must
pack up his things. Dr. Wolf's keepers were
waiting for him.
The moment of parting came. Then Alfred
solemnly forgave him, Dr. Wycherley, for sign-
ing away his wits, and thanked him for all his
kindness and humanity. " We shall never meet
again, I fear," said he; ".I feel a weight of
foreboding here about my heart I never felt be-
fore ; yet my trials have been many and great.
I think the end is at hand." Dr. Wolfs keepers
received him, and their first act was to handcuff
him. The cold steel struck into him deeper than
his wrist, and reminded him of Silverton Grove.
He could not suppress a shudder. The carriage
rolled all through I^ondon with him. He saw *
the Parks with autumn's brown and golden tints :
he saw the people, some rich, some poor, but
none of them prisoners. He saw a little girl all
rags. " Oh, if I could be as ragged as you arc,"
he said, "and free."
At last they reached Milverton House a huge
old mansion, fortified into a jail. His handcuffs
were whipped off in the yard. He was ushered
into a large, gloomy drawing-room. Dr. Wolf
soon came to him, and they measured each other
by the eye like two prize-fighters. Dr. Wolfs .
eye fell under Alfred's, andthe latter felt he was
capable of much foul play. He was one of the
old bull-necked Jmed, and contained the bull-
dog and the sgiBfll in his aln^U rA.t^^. "V
192
VEEfr HABD CASH.
**I will try, Sir."
"The first-class patients dine in half an hour."
**I will be ready, Sir."
** Full-dress in the evening ; there are several
ladies." Alfred assented by a bow.^ Dr. Wolf
rang a bell and told a servant to show Mr. Har-
die his room.
He had just time to make his toilet when the
bell rang for dinner.
As he went down a nurse met him, held up
something white to him as she came, lowered it
quickly, and dropped it at his feet in passing.
It was a billet-doux.
It was twisted into a pretty shape, scented,
and addressed to Mr. Hardic in a delicate Ital-
ian hand, and in that pale ink which seems to
reflect the charming timidity of the fair who
use it.
He wondered, carried it into a recess, then
opened it and read it.
It contained but this one line :
" Drink nothing hut water at dinner.''^
These words, in that delicate Italian hand,
sent a chill through Alfred. What on earth was
all this ? Was he to be poisoned ? Was his life
.- aimed at now instead of his reason? What was
. this mysterious drama prepared for him the very
moment he set his foot in the place, perhaps be-
fore ? A poisoner, and a friend ! Both stran-
gers. He went down to dinner, and contrived
to examine every lady and gentleman at the
table. But they were all strangers. Presently
a servant filled his glass with' beer ; he looked,
and saw it was poured from a small jug holding
only his portion. Alfred took his ring off^ his
&^ger, and holding the glass up dropped his
rmg in.
"What is that for?" inquired one or two.
" Oh, my ring has a peculiar virtue : it tells
me what is good for me. Ah ! what do I see ?
my ruby changes color. Fetch me a clean
glass." And he filled it with water from a ca-
raffe. " No, Sir, leave the beer. I'll analyze it
\n my room after dinner ; I'm a chemist."
Dr. Wolf changed color, and was ill at ease.
Here was a bold and ugly customer. However,
he said nothing, and felt sure his morphia could
pot be detected in beer by any decomposer but
the stomach. Still he was thoroughly mystified.
In the evening Alfred came dressed into the
drawing-room, and found several gentlemen and
ladies there. One of the ladies seemed to attract
the lion's share of male homage. Her back was
turned to Alfred ; but it was a beautiful back,
with great magnificent neck and shoulders, and
a skin like satin ; slie was tall, but rounded and
symmetrical ; had a massive but long and shape-
ly white arm, and perfect hand ; and masses of
tiiick black hair sat on her grand white poll like
a raven on a marble pillar.
It was not easy to get near her ; for the mad
gentlemen were fawning on her all round, like
Queen Elizabeth's courtiers:
However, Dr. Wolf, seeing Alfred standing
alone, said, "Let me introduce you," and took
him round- to her. i?he courtiers Tell back a lit-
tle. The lady turned her stately head, and her
dark eyes ran lightly all over Alfred in a mo-
ment.
He bowed, and blushed like a girl. She
courtesies composedly, and witho# a symptom
of recognition deep water oms still and Dr.
Wolf introduced them cere|rihiiously.
" Mr. Hardie Mrs. ArcSfeid."
CHAPTER XLin. '
On Alfred's leaving Silverton, Mrs. Archbold
was prostrated. It was a stunning blow to her
young passion, and left her weary, 4esolate.
But she was too strong to lie helpless under
disappointed longings. Two days she sat stupe-
fied ydih. the heartache ; after that she bustled
about her work in a fervor of half-crazy restless-
ness, and ungovernable irritability, quenched at
times by fits of weeping. As she wept apart,
but raged and tyrannized in public, she soon
made Silverton House Silverton Oven, especially
to those who had the luck to be of her sex. Then
Baker timidly remonstrated : at the first word
she snapped him up, and said a change would be
good for both of them : he apologized ; in vain :
that very day she closed by letter with Dr. Wol^
who had often invited her to be his " Matron."
Her motive, half hidden from herself, was to be
any where near her favorite.
Installed at Drayton House, she waited some
days, and coquetted woman-like with her own
desires, then dressed neatly, but soberly, and
called at Dr. Wycherley's ; sent in a note ex-
plaining who she was, with a bit of soft sawder,
and asked to see Alfred.
She was politely but peremptorily refused.
She felt this rebuff bitterly. She went home
stung and tingling to the core. But Bitters
wholesome be : offended pride now allied with
strong good sense to wither a wild affection;
and, as it was no longer fed by the presence of
its object, her wound healed, all but the occa-
sional dull throbbing that precedes a perfect
cure.
At this stage of her convalescence Dr. Wolf
told her in an off-hand way that Mr. Hardie, a
patient of doubtful insanity, was coming to his
asylum, to be kept there by hook or by crodL
(She was entirely in Wolf's confidence, and he
talked of these things to her in English.) The
impenetrable creature assented outwardly, with
no sign of emotion whatever, but one flash of the
eye, and one heave of the bosom swiftly suppress-
ed. She waited calmly and patiently till she
was alone; then yielded to joy and triumph;
they seemed to leap inside her. But this very
thing alarmed her. * * Better for me never to see
him again, " she thought. * * His power over me
is too terrible. Ah, good-by to the peace and
comfort I have been biidlding up ! He will scat-
ter them to the winds. He has."
She tried not to think of him too much. Andj
while she was so struggling. Wolf let out that
Alfred was to have morphia at dinner the first
day; morphia, the accursed drug with which
these dark men in these dark places coax the
reason away out of the head by degrees, or with
a potent dose stupefy the victim, then act sur-
prise, alarm ; and make his stupor the ground
for applying medical treatmei^ to the doomed
wretch. Edith Archbold knew the game, and
at the word morphia Pity and Passion rose in
her bosom irresistible. She smiled in Dr. Wolfs
face, and hated him ; and secretly girt herself np
VERY HARD CASH.
193
to baffle him, a ^ifcj rotect Alfred's reason, and
win his heart thflBn his gratitude.
She received QVas I have related, to throw
dost in Dr. Wolifs eyes : but she acted so ad-
mirably that some went into Alfred's. "Ah,"
thought he, " she is angry with herself for her
amorous folly ; and, with the justice of her sex,
she means to spite poor me for it." He sighed ;
for he felt her hostility would be fatal to him.
To give her no fresh offense, he fell into her
manner, and treated her with a world of distant
respect. Then again, who else but she could
have warned him against poison ? Then again,
if so, why look so cold and stem at him ? He
cast one or two wistful glances at her ; but. the
artful woman of thirty was impenetrable in pub-
lic to the candid man of twenty-one. Even her
passion could not put them on an equality.
That night he could not sleep. He lay won-
dering what would be the next foul practice, and
how he should parry it.
He wrote next morning to the Commissioners
that two of their number, unacquainted with the
previous proceedings of the Board, had been sur-
prised into indorsing an order of transfer to an
asylum bearing a very inferior character to Dr.
Wycherley's ; the object of this was clearly foul
play. Accordingly, Dr. Wolf had already tried
to poison his reason by drugging his beer at
dinner. He added that Dr. Wycherley had now
signed a cfirtificate of his sanity, and implored
the Board to inspect it, and discharge him at
once, or else let a solicitor visit him at once, and
take the requisite steps toward a public inquiry.
While waiting anxiously for the answer, it cost
him all his philosophy to keep his heart from
eating itself. But he fought the good fight of
Reason : he invited the confidences of the quieter
mad people, and established a little court, and
heard their grievances, and by impartial decis-
ions and good humor won the regard of the
moderate patients, andx)f the attendants, all but
three ; Rooke, the hela-keeper, a morose burly
ruffian; Hayes, a bilious subordinate, Rooke's
shadow ; and Vulcan, a huge mastiff that would
let nobody but Rooke touch him ; he was J)ig as
a large calf, and formidable as a small lion,
though nearly toothless with age. He was let
loose in the yard at night, and was an element
in the Restraint System ; many a patient would
have tried to escape but for Vulcan. He was
also an invaluable howler at night, and so co-
operated with Dr. Wolf's bugs and fleas to avert
sleep, that vile foe to insanitj^' and all our dis-
eases, private asylums included.
Alfred treated Mrs. Archbold with ja. distant
respect that tried her hard. But that able wo-
man wore sweetness and unobtrusive kindness,
and bided her time. At last he gave her an op-
portunity, and it will be seen whether ^he took it.
In Drayton House the keeperesses eclipsed
the keepers in cruelty to the poorer patients.
No men except Dr. Wolf and his assistant ha%
a pass-key into their department, so there was
nobody they could deceive, nobody they held
worth the trouble. In th^ absence of male critics
they showed their real selves, and how wise it is
to trust that gentle sex in the dark with irrespons-
ible power over females. With unflagging pa-
tience they applied the hourly torture of petty
insolence, needless humiliation, unreasonable re-
ftusals, to the poor mad women ; bored them with
the poisoned gimlet, and mad^ their hearts bleed-
ing pin-cushions. But miqute cruelty and petty
caprice were not enough for them, though these
never tired nor rested; they must vilify them
too with degrading and savage names. Billings-
gate might have gone to school to Drayton
House. Inter alia they seemed in love with a
term that Othello hit upon ; only they used it not
once, but fifty times a day, and struck decent
women with it on the face, like a scorpion whip ;
and then the scalding tears were sure to run
in torrents adown their silly, honest, bumilig
cheeks. But this was not all; they had got a
large tank in a flagged room, nominally for clean-
liness and cure, but really for bane and torture.
Por the least offense, or out of mere wantonness,
they would drag a patient stark naked across the
yard, and thrust her bodily under the water again
and again, keeping her down till almost gone
with suffocation, and dismissing her more dead
than alive with obscene and insulting comments
ringing in her ears, to get warm again in the
cold. This my ladies called "tanking."
In the ordinary morning ablutions they tanked
without suffocating. But the immersion of the
whole body in cold water was of itself a severe
trial to those numerous patients in whom the
circulation was weak ; and, as medical treatment,
hurtful and even dangerous. Finally these keep-
eresses, with diabolical insolence and cruelty,
would bathe twenty patients in this tank, and
then make them drink that foul water for their
meals.
"The dark places of the land are full of hor-
rible cruelty.'*
. One day they tanked so savagely that Nurse
Eliza, after months of sickly disapproval, came
to the new redresser of grievances, and told.
What was he to do? He seized the only
chance of redress ; he ran panting with indigna-
tion to Mrs. Archbold, and blushing high, said
imploringly, " Oh, Mrs. Archbold, you used to be
kind-hearted " and he could say no more for
something rising in his throat.
Mrs. Archbold smiled encouragingly on him,
and said, softly, "I am the same I always was
to you, Alfred."
" Oh, thank you ; then pray send for Nurse
Eliza, and hear the cruelties that are being done
to the patients within a yard of us."
"You had better tell me yourself, if you want
me to pay any attention.**
"I can't. I don't know how to speak to a
lady of such things as are done here. The
brutes! the cowardly she-devils! Oh, how I
should like to kill them !'*
Mrs. Archbold laughed a little at his enthn- i
siasm (fancy caring so what was done to a pack
of women), and sent for Nurse Eliza. She
came, and being questioned, told Mrs. Archbold
mote than she had Alfred. "And, ma'am,*'
said she, whimpering, "they have just been
tanking one they had no business to touch ; it
is Mrs. Dale, her that is so close on her confine-
ment. They tanked her cruel they did, and
kept her under water till she was nigh gone.
Ma'am, I saw the baby under her skin strug-
gling at them using its poor mother so barbar-
ous. I came away; I couldn't stand it."
Alfred was wdl^ipg about in a fury, and
Nurse Eliza, in making this last revolting com-
munication, lowered her voice for him not to^
194
VERY HARD CASH.
hear; but his senses* were quick. I think he
heard, for he turned and came quickly to them.
**Mrs. Archbold, you are strong and brave
for a woman; oh, do go in to them and take
them by the throat and shake the life out
of them, the merciless, cowardly beasts ! Oh
that I could bo a woman for an hour, or they
could be men, I'd soon have my foot on some of
the wretches."
Mrs. Archbold acted Ignition. " Come with
me, both of you," she said, and they wer^ soon
in the female department. Up came keeperesses
directly, smirking and courtesying to her, and
pretending not to look at Adonis. "Which of
you nurses tanked Mrs. Dale?" said she, sternly.
"'Twasn't I, ma'am, 'twasn't I."
** Oh fie !" said Eliza to one, "you know you
were at the head of it."
She pointed out two as the leaders. The
Archbold instantly had them seized by the oth-
ers who, with treachery equal to their coward-
ice, turned eagerly against their fellom-culprits,
to make friends with Power and inviting all the
sensible maniacs who had been tanked to assist
or inspect, she bared her own statuesque arms,
and, ably aided, soon plunged the offenders,
screaming, crying, and whining, like spaniel
bitches whipped, under the dirty water. They
swallowed some, and appreciated their own acts.
Then she forced them to walk twice round the
yard with their wet clothes clinging to them,
hooted by the late victims.
"There," said Alfred, "let that teach you
men vill not own hyenas in petticoats for wo-
men."
Poor Alfred took all the credit of this per-
formance ; but, in fact, when the Archbold in-
vited him to bear a hand he showed the white
feather.
" / won't touch the blackguardesses," said he,
haughtily, turning it off on the score of con-
tempt. " You give it them I Again ! again !
Brava!"
Mosaic retribution completed, Mrs. Archbold
told the nurses if ever " tanking" recurred she
would bundle the whole female staff into the
street, and then have them indicted by the Com-
missioners.
These virtuous acts did Edith Archbold for
love for a young man. Whether mad women
or sane women, pregnant, or the reverse, were
tanked or not, she cared at heart no more than
whether sheep were washed or no in Ettrick's
distant dale. She was retiring with a tender
look at Alfred, and her pulse secretly unacceler-
ated by sheep-washing of she- wolves, when her
grateful favorite appealed to her again :
"Dear Mrs. Archbold, shall we punish and
not comfort ? This poor Mrs. Dale !"
The Archbold could have boxed his ears.
"Dear boy," she murmured, tenderly; "you
teach us all our duty." She visited the tanked
ing like ague, and her teeth chattering. Mrs.
Archbold had her to the fire, and got her warm
clothes, and a pint of wine, and probably saved
her life and her child's for love of a young
man.
Why I think Mrs. Dale would otherwise have
left this shifting seenef Mra^ Carey, the last wo-
man in her condition they tanked and then\ XT\\.\iTne\.\io^mi^i\va^
tamed into a Sagged cell that only wanted one \ BoiaoTxAttuXwa^MicitetTiQrw.
frog of a grotto, was found Bfftll^ after moribund ;
on which they bundled her.i||lt'of the asylum to
die. She did die next day;^ home, but mur-
dered by the asylum ; and they told the Com-
missioners-she died through her friends taking
her away from the asylum too soon^ The Com-
missioners had nothing to do but believe this,
and did believe it. Inspectors, who visit a tem-
ple of darkness, lies, cunning, and hypocrisy, four
times a year, know mighty little of what goes
on there the odd three hundred and sixty-one
days, five hours, forty-eight minutes, and fifty-
seven seconds.*
"Now, Alfred," said Mrs. Archbold, "I can't
be every where, or know every thing; so you
come to me when any thing grieves you ; and
let me be the agent of your humanity."
She said this so charmingly he was surprised
into kissing her fair hand; then blushed, and
thanked her warmly. Thus she established a
chain between them. When he let too long
elapse without appealing to her, she would ask
his advice about the welfare of this or that pa-
tient ; and so she cajoled him by th^ two foibles
she had discerned in him his vanity and his
humanity.
Besides Alfred, there were two patients in
Drayton House'who had never been insane; a
young man, and an old woman ; of whom anon.
There were also three ladies and one gentleman,
who had been deranged, but had recovered years
ago. This little incident. Recovery, is followed
in a public asylum by instant discharge ; but in
a private one Money, not Sanity, is apt to settle
the question of egress. The gentleman's case
was scarce credible in the nineteenth century':
years ago, being undeniably cracked, he had
done what Dr. Wycherley told Alfred was a sure"
sign of sanity; i.e. he had declared himself in-
sane: and had even been so reasonable as to
sign his own order and certificates, and so im-
prison himself illegally, b^ with perfect ease ; no
remonstrance against tlmt illegality from the
guardians of the law I When he got what plain
men call sane, he naturally wanted to be free,
and happening to remember he alone had signed
the order of imprisonment, and the imaginary
doctors' certificates, he claimed his discharge
from illegal confinement. Answer : "First ob-
tain a legal order for your discharge." On this
he signed an order for his discharge. "That is
not a legal order." "It is as legal as the order
on which I am here. Granted ; but, legally or
not, the asylum has got you ; the open air has
not got you. Possession is. ninety-nine points
of Lunacy law. Die your own illegal prisoner,
and let your kinsfolk eat your land, and drink
your consols, and bury you in a pauper's shroud.
All that Alfred could do for these victims was to
promise to try and get them out some day, D.V.
But there was a weak-minded youth, Francis
Beverley, who had the honor to be under the
one, found her in a cold room after it, shiver- protection ofthe Lord Chancellor. Now aluna^
tic or a Softy protected by that functionary is
literally a lamb protected by a wolf, and that
wolf ex-officio the cruelest, cunningest, old man-
gier and fleecer of innocents in Christendom.
Chancery lunatics are the richest class, yet num-
bers of them are flung among pauper and even
\\ixiAia wodd retdvai
VEEY HAED CASH.
195
criminal lunatics, at a few pounds a year, while
tbeir committees bfjg four-fifths of the money
that has been assi^ed to keep the patient in
comfort.
Unfortunately the protection of the Chancellor
extends to Life and Reason, as well as Fleece ;
vith the following result :
In public asylums about forty per cent, are
said to be cured.
In private ones twenty-five per cent, at least ;
most of th^ poorish.
Of Chancery Lunatics not five per cent.
Finally, one-third of all the Chancery Luna-
tics do every six years exchange the living
tombs they are fleeced and bullied in for dead
tombs, where they rest ; and go from the sham
protection of the Lord Chancellor 6f England to
the real protection of their Creator and their
Judge.
These statistics have been long before the
world, and are dead figures to the Skimmer of
things, but tell a dark tale to the Header of
things : so dark, that I pray Heaven to protect
me, and all other weak inofi'cnsive persons, from
the protection of my Lord Chancellor in thi^
kind.
Beverley was so unfortunate as to exist befor^
the date of the above petition ; and sufiered the
consequences.
He was an aristocrat by birth, noble on both
sides of his house, and unluckily had money.
But for that he would have been a laboring
man, and free. My Lord Protector committed
him with six hundred pounds a year mainte-
nance money to the care of his committee, the
Honorable Fjnea Beverley.
Now this corporate, yet honorf^ble, individual,
to whom something was committed, and so Chan-
cery Lane called him in its own sweet French
the thing committed, was a gentleman of birth,
breeding, and intelligence. He undertook to
take care of his simple cousin : and what he did
take care of was himself.
The Sub-letting Swindle.
1. The Honorable Fynes Beverley, Anglo-
French committee, or crown tenant, sub-let soft
Francis for 300 a year, pocketed 300, and
washed his hands of Frank.
2. Mr. Heselden, the sub-tenant, sub-let the
Softy of high degree for 150, pocketed the sur-
plus, and washed his hands of him.
3. The 150 man sub-let him to Dr. Wolf at
60 a year, pouched the surplus, and washed
his hands of him.
And now what on earth was left for poor Dr.
Wolf ta do? Could he sub-embezzle a High-
lander's breeks? Could he subtract more than
her skin from ofi^ the singed cat? Could he
peel the core of a rotten apple? Could he pare
a grated cheese rind ? Could he fiay a skinned
flint ? Could he fleece a hog just after Satan
had shaved it as clean as a bantam's egg ? .a
Let no man dare to limit genius ; least of all
the geniHS of extortion.
Dr. Wolf screwed comparatively more out of
young Frank than did any of the preceding
screws. He turned him into a servant of all
work and half starved him : money profit, 46
out of the 60, or three-fourths, whereas the
others had only bagged one-half. But by this
and on half a seiTant's food, clearing 22 and
12 in these two items.
Victim of our great national vice and foible,
Vicariousness, this scion of a noble house, pro-
tected in theory by the crown, vicariously sub-
protected by the Chancellor, sub-vicariously sub-
sham-protected by his kin, was really flung un-
protected into the fleece market, and might be
seen at the end of the long chain of subs, pros,
vices, locos, shams, shuffles, swindles, and lies
shaking the carpets, making the beds, carry-
ing the water, sweeping the rooms, and scouring
the sordid vessels, of thirty patients in Drayton
House, not one of whom was his equal eitlier in
birth or wealth ; and of four menials, who were
all his masters, and hard ones. . His work was
always doing, never done. He was not the
least mad nor bad, but merely of feeble intel-
lect all round. Fifty thousand gentlemen's fam-
ilies would have been glad of him at 300 a
year, and made a son and a brother of him.
But he vffis under the protection of the Lord
Chancellor. Thin, half - starved, threadbare,
out at elbows, the universal butt, scoffed at by
the very lunatics, and especially ill-treated by
the attendants whose work he did gratis, he
was sworn at, jeered, insulted, cuffed, and even
kicked, every day of his hard, hard life. And
yet he was a gentleman, though a soft one ; his
hands, his features, his carriage, his address,
had all an indefinable stamp of race. How had
it outlived such crushing, degrading usage? I
don't know, Charles ; how does a daisy survive
the iron roller? Alfred soon found liim out,
an.d, to every body's amazement, especially
Frank's, remonstrated gently but resolutely and
eloquently, and soon convinced the majority,
sane and insane, that a creature so meek and
useful merited especial kindness, not cruelty.
One keeper. The Robin, alias Tom Wales, an
ex-prize-fighter, was a warm convert to this
view. Among the maniacs only one held" out,
and said contemptuously he couldn't see it.
"Weiy said Alfred, "lay a finger on him
after this, and I'll lay a hand on you, and aid
your intellectual vision."
Rooke and Hayes treated remonstrance with
open and galling contempt. Yet the tide of
opinion changed so, they did not care to defy it
openly : but they bullied poor Beverley now and
then on the sly, and he never told. He was too
inoffensive for this world. But one day, as Al-
fred was sitting with his door ajar, writing a
letter of earnest expostulation to the Commis-
sioners, who had left his first unanswered, he
heard Hayes at the head of the stairs call rough-
ly "Frank! Frank!"
"Sir," replied the soft little voice of young
Beverley.
"Come, be quick, young shaver."
"I'm coming, Sir," and up ran Beverley.
"Here take this tray down stairs."
k "Yes, Sir."
"Stop, there's a bit of bread for you." And
Hayes chucked him a crust, as one throws it to
another man's dog. . .
"Thank you. Sir," said Mr. Beverley, stoop-
ing down for it, and being habitually as hungry
as a rat-catcher's ^ke, took an eager bite in
that position.
otners naa only Daggea one-nait. J5ut Dy tiii8\ '* tiow (lot^ ^otol ^w. \^. \.viKTO\ ^x.xvx "^"^;;^
mesma he got a good servant without wages, \ brataWj . ^"XsJfea NX. Vi i^^a o'?^ ^-^^'^ ^5iaM5^
196
VERY HARD CASH.
mizzle/' And with that lent him a contemptu-
ous kick behind, which, owing to his position,
sent him off his balance flat on the tray ; a glass
broke under him ; poor young Mr. Beverley ut-
tered a cry of dismay, for he knew Hayes would
not own himself the cause ; Hayes cursed him
for an awkward idiot, and the oath went off into
a howl, for Alfred ran out at him brimful of
n Moses, and with a savage kick on the rump and
blow on the neck administered simultaneously
hurled him head foremost down the stairs.
Alighting on the seventh step, he turned a
somersault, and bounded like a ball on to the
landing below, and there lay stupefied. He
picked himself up by slow degrees, and glared
round with speechless awe and amazement up
at the human thunder-bolt that had shot out on
him and sent him flying like a feather. He
shook his fist, and limped silently away all
bruises and curses, to tell Rooke, and concert
vengeance. Alfred, trembling still with ire,
took Beverley to his room (the boy was as white
as a sheet), and encouraged him, and made him
wash properly, brushed his hair, dressed him in
a decent Tweed suit he had outgrown, and tak-
ing him under his arm, and walking with hi&
own nose haughtily in the air, paraded him up
and down the asylum, to show them all the best
man in the house respected the poor soft gentle-
man. Ah what a grand thing it is to be young !
Beverley clung to his protector too much like a
girl, but walked gracefully and kept step, and
every now and then looked up at Alfred with a
loving adoration, that was sweet yet sad to see.
Alfred marched him to Mrs. Arch bold, and told
his tale ; for he knew Hayes would misrepresent
it, and get him into trouble. She smiled on the
pair ; gently deplored her favorite's inij)Ctuosity,
entreated him not to go fighting with that great
monster Rooke, /and charmed him by saying,
** Well, and Frank is a gentleman, when he is
dressed like one.**
" Isn't he ?'* said Alfred, eagerly. "And whose
fault is it he is not always dressed tike one?
Whose fault that here's an earl's nephew Boots
in Hell?"
"Not yours, Alfred, nor mine," was the hon-
eyed reply.
In vain did Mr. Hayes prefer his complaint to
Dr. Wolf. The Archbold had been before him,
and the answer was, " Served you right."
These and many other good deeds did Alfred
Hardie in Drayton House. But, as the days
rolled on, and no answer came from the Com-
missioners, his own anxiety, grief, and dismay
left him less and less able to sympathize with the
material but smaller wrongs around him. He
became silent, dejected.
At last he came to Mrs. Archbold, and said,
sternly, his letters to the Commissioners were in-
tercepted.
"I can't believe that,'* said she. "It is against
the law." 1
So it was : but law and custom are two.
"I am sure of it," said he: "and may the
eternal curse of Heaven light on the cowardly
traitor and miscreant who has done it." And he
stalked gloomily away.
When be left hoTy she sighed at this impreca-
tj'on from his lips; but did not repent. " I can't
part with him," she said, despairingly; "and, if
I did not stop his poor dear letters, Wolf would :"
and the amorous crocodile shed a tear, and per-
sisted in her double-faced course.
By-and-by, when she saw him getting thinner
and paler, and his bright face downcast and in-
expressibly sad, she shared his misery ; ay, shed
scalding tears for him ; yet could not give him
up ; for her will was as strong as the rest of her
was supple : and hers was hot love, but not true
love like Julia's.
Perhaps a very subtle observer seeing this man
and woman wax pale and spiritless together in
one house might have divined her secret. Dr.
Wolf then was no such observer, for she made
him believe she had a rising penchant for him.
He really had a strong one for her.
While Alfred's visible misery pulled at her
heart-strings, and sometimes irritated, sometimes
melted her, came curious complications ; one of
which requires preface.
Mrs. Dodd then was not the wife to trust
blindly where her poor husband was concerned ;
she bribed so well that a keeperess in David's
first asylum told her David had been harshly
used by an attendant. She instantly got Eve
Dodd to take him away : and transfer him to a
Mnall asylum nearer London, and kept by a Mrs.
ftllis. " Women are not cruel to men,** said the
sagacious Lucy Dodd.
But, alas ! if women are not cruel where sex
comes in and mimics that wider sentiment Hu-
manity, women are deadly economical. Largely
giftcd%ith that household virtue, Mrs. Ellis kept
too few servants, and, sure consequence in a mad-
house, too many strait-jackets, hobbles, muffs,
leg-locks, body-belts, etc., etc. Hence half her
patients were frequently kept out of harm's way
by cruel restrakits administered not out of hearty
cruelty, but female parsimony. Mrs. and Miss
Dodd invaded the house one day when the fair
economist was out, and found seven patients ont
of the twelve kept out of mischief thus : one in
a restraint chair, two hobbled like asses, two
chained like dogs, and two in strait- waistcoats,
and fastened to beds by webbing and straps;
among the latter David, though quiet as a lamb.
Mrs. Dodd cried over him as if her heart would
break, and made Miss Dodd shift him to a large
asylum, where I believe he was very well used.
But here those dreadful newspapers interfered ;
a prying into sweet secluded spots. They diver-
sified Mrs. Dodd*s breakfast by informing her
that the doctor of this asylum had just killed a
patient; the mode of execution bloodless and
sure, as became fair science. It was a man be-
tween sixty and seventy ; an age at which the
heart can seldom stand very much shocking or
lowering, especially where the brain is diseased. ,
So they placed him in a shower-bath, narrow
enough to impede respiration, without the falling
water, which of necessity drives out air. In
short, a vertical box with holes all round the
top.
Here the doctor ordered him a cold shower-
bath of unparalleled duration ; half an hour.
To be followed by an unprecedented dcfee of tar-
tar emetic. This double-barreled order given,
the doctor went away. (Formula.)
The water was down to forty-five degrees
Fahrenheit. Half an hour's shower-bath at that
tem\)eTature in a roomy bath would kill the
yownge&i ttodi \xQti^^\.TCALmher Mi^jestj'B do-
xmrnous.
VERY HARD CASH.
197
For eight-and-twenty mortal minutes the poor
old man stood in this vertical coffin under this
cold cascade. Six hundred gallons of icy water
were in that his last hour, his last half hour, dis-
chargied upon his devoted head and doomed body.
He had to be helped away from this death-
torrent he had walked into in high spirits, poor
soul.
Even this change awakiened no misgivings, no
remorse ; though you or I, or any man or wo-
man picked at hazard out of the streets, would
at once have seen that he was dying, he was duly
dosed by the fire with four spoonfuls of antimo-
nial tincture to make sicker. But even the
'* Destructive Art of Healing" can not slay the
slain. The old man cheated the emetic; for
before it could hurt him he died of the bath ;
and his body told its own sad tale : to use the
words of a medical eye-witness, it was * * A piece
OF ALABASTER." The dcath-torrcnt had driven
the whole circulation from the surface.*
Mrs. Dodd was terrified, and, in spite of Samp-
son's assurance that this was the asylum of all
others they would not settle another patient in
until the matter should have blown over, got
Eve Dodd to write to Dr. Wolf, and offer 300
a year if he would take David at once, and treat
him with especial consideration.
He showed this letter triumphantly to Mrs.
Arphbold, and she, blinded for a moment by del-
ing, dissuaded him from receiving Captain Dodd.
He stared at her. "What, turn away a couple
of thousand pounds?"
"But they will come to visit him; and per-
haps see Mm."
** Oh, that can be managed. You mus^ be on
your guard : and V\\ warn Rooke. I can't turn
away money on a chance."
One day Alfred found himself locked into
his room. This was unusual : for, though they
called him a lunatic in words, they called him
sane \y all their acts. He half suspected that
tlte Commissioners were in the^ouse.
. Had he known who really was inr the house,
)ie would have beaten himself to pieces against
the door.
At dinner there was a new patient, very mild
und silent, with a beautiful large brown eye, like
some gentle animaPs.
Alfred was very much struck with this eye,
and contrived to say a kind word to him after
dinner. Finding himself addressed by a gentle-
man, the new-comer handled his forelock, and
made a sea scrape, and announced himself as
William Thompson ; he added with simple pride,
"Able Seaman;" then, touching his forelock
again, " jTust come aboard, your honor." After
tya; which came off" glibly, he was any thing
but communicative. However, Alfred contrived
to extract from him that he was rather glad to
* This mode of execution is well known in the United
States. They settle refractory priaonere with it periodically.
Bat half an hoar ia not needed ; twenty minates will do
the trick. Harpei^a Weekly^ a year or two ago, contained
an admirable wood-cat ci a negto's execution by water.
In this remarkable picture you see the poor darkey seated
powerless, howling and panting his life away under the
deadly cascade: and there stands the stolid turnkey,
erect, formal, stiff as a ramrod, pulling the deadly string
with a sort of drill exercise air, and no more compunction
nor reflection than if he himself was a machine constructed
to pall strings or triggers on his own string being pulled
by butoher or ftol. A jdckire well studied, and bo worth
study.
leave his last ship, on account of having been
constantly impeded there in his duties by a set
of lubbers, that clung round him and kept him
on deck whenever the first lieutenant ordered
him into the top.
The very next day, pacing sadly the dull
gravel of his prison yard, Alfred heard a row ;
and there was the able seaman struggling with
the Robin and two other keepers : he wanted to
go to his duties in the foretop : to wit, the fork
of a high elm-tree in the court-yard. Alfred
had half a mind not to interfere. '* Who cares
for my misery ?" he said. But his better nature
prevailed, and he told the Robin he was sure
going up imaginary rigging would do Thompson
more good than harm.
On this the men reluctantly gave him a trial,
and he went up the tree with wonderful strength
and agility, but evident caution. Still Alfred
quaked when he crossed his thighs tight over a
limb of the tree forty feet from earth, and went
carefully and minutely through the whole process
ottfurling imaginary sails. However, he came
down manifestly soothed by the performance,
and, singular phenomenon, he was quite cool;
and it was the spectators on deck who per-
spired.
"And what a pleasant voice he has," said
Alfred ; "it quite charms my ear : it is not like
a mad voice. It is like I'm mad myself."
"And he has got a fiddle, and plays it like a
hangel, by all accounts," said the Robin ; "only
he won't touch it but when he has a mind."
At night Alfred dreamed he heard Julia's
sweet, mellow voice speaking to him; and he
looked, and lo! it was the able seaman. He
could sleep no more, but lay sighing.
Ere the able seaman had been there three
days, Mrs. Dodd came unexpectedly to see him :
and it was with the utmost difficulty Alfred was
smuggled out of the way. Mrs. Archbold saw
by her loving anxiety these visits would be fre-
quent, and, unless Alfred was kept constantly
locked up, which was repugnant to her, they
would meet some day. She knew there are men
who ply the trade of spies, and where to find
them ; she set one of them to watch Mrs. Dodd's
.house, and learn her habits, in hopes of getting
some clew as to when she might be expected.
Now it so happened that looking for one thing
she found another, which gave her great hopes
and courage. And then the sight of Alfred's
misery tried her patience, and then he was be-
ginning half to suspect her of stopping his letters.
Passion, impatience, pity, and calculation, all
drove her the same road, and led to an extraor-
dinary scene, so impregnated with the genius of
the mad-house a place where the passions run
out to the very end of their tether that I feel
little able to describe it ; I will try and indicate
it.
One fine Sunday afternoon, then, she asked
^fred languidly would he like to walk in the
country.
" Would I like ? Ah, don't trifle with a pris-
oner," said he, sorrowfully.
She shook her head. " No, no, it will not be
a happy walk ; Rooke, who hates you, is to fol-
low us with that terrible mastiff, to pull yon
down if you try to esca^^. V ^wIS.^ t^'^jv. ^jjiC^x .
, W0\$ to COTiWSa OTL a^ Q'OCi^^ \RXTOS.% K&t^^O^N-
i U8 glVi U^ t\i^ \^WW. \ ^&C 1 WX X^M^^^'^^
198
VERY HARD CASH.
"No, no, I won't try to escape ^from you. I
have not seen a blade of gjrass this six months.*'
The accomplished dissembler hesitated, yield-
ed. They passed through the yard and out at
the back door, which Alfred had so often looked
wistfully at ; and by-and-by reached a delicious
pasture ; a light golden haze streamed across it ;
Nature never seemed so sweet, so divine, to Al-
fred before ; the sun as bright as mid-summer,
though not the least hot, the air fresh, yet genial,
and perfumed with Liberty and the smaller flow-
ers of earth ; Beauty glided rustling by his side,
and dark eyes subdued their native fire into soft-
ness whenever they turned on him ; and scarce
fifty yards in the rear hung a bully and a mas-
tiff ready to tear him down if he should break
away from beauty's light hand, that restwl so
timidly on his. Ho was young, and stout-heart-
ed, and relished his peep of liberty and nature,
though blotted by Vulcan and Rooke. He
chatted to Mrs. Archbold in good spirits. She
answered briefly, and listlessly.
At last she stopped under a young chestrtWt-
tree as if overcome with a sudden reflection, and,
turning half away from him, leaned her head and
hand upon a bough and sighed. The attitude
was i)ensive and womanly. He asked her with
innocent concern what was the matter ; then
faintly, should he take her home. All her an-
swer was to press his hand with hers that was
disengaged, and, instead of sighing, to cry.
The novice in woman's wiles set himself to
comfort her in vain : to question her in vain
at first, but by degrees she allowed him to learn
that it was for him she mourned ; and so they
proceeded on the old, old plan, the man extort-
ing from the woman bit by bit just so much as
she wanted all along to say, and would have
poured in a stream if let quite alone.
He drew from his distressed friend that Dr.
Wolf, for reasons of his own, had made special
inquiries about the Dodds ; that she had fortu-
nately or unfortunately heard of this, and had
questioned the person employed, hoping to hear
something that might comfort Alfred. " Instead
of that," said slie, "I find Miss Dodd is like
most girls; out of sight is out of mind with
her."
" What do VQU mean ?" said Alfred, trembling
suddenly.
" Do not ask me. What a weak fool I was to
Jet you see I was unhappy for you."
** The truth is the truth," gasped Alfred : " tell
me at once."
"Must I? I am afraid you will hate me;
for I should hate any one who told me your
faults. Well, then if I must Miss Dodd has
a beau."
" It is a lie !" cried Alfred, furiously.
"I wish it was. But she has two in fact, both
of them clergymen : however, one seems the fa-
vorite ; at least they are engaged to be married ;
it is Mr. Hurd, the curate of the parish she lives
in. By what I hear she is one of the religious
ones : so perhaps that has brought the pair to an
understanding."
At these words a cold sickness rushed all over
Alfred, beginning at his heart. He stood white
and stupefied a moment : then, in the anguish
of bis heart, broke out into a great and terrible
cry: It was like a young lion wounded with a
poisoned shaft.
Then he was silent, and stood stock-still, like
petrified despair.
Mrs. Archbold was prepared for an outburst ;
but not of this kind. His anguish was so un-
like a woman's that it staggered her. Her good
and bad angels, to use an expressive though
somewhat too poetical phrase, battled for her.
She had an impulse to earn his gratitude for
life, to let him out of the asylum ere Julia
should bo Mrs. Hurd, and even liberty come
too late for true love. She looked again at the
statue of grief by her side : and burst out crying
in earnest.
This was unfortunate. Shallow pity exuding
in salt-water leaves not enough behind to gush
forth in good deeds.
She only tried to undo her own work in part ;
to comfort him a little with commonplaces : she
told him in a soothing whisper there were other
women in the world besides this inconstant girl,
others who could love him as he deserved.
He made no answer to all she could say, but
just waved his hand once impatiently. Pbtty
consolation seemed to sting him.
Then she began to feel impatient, angry.
"How he clings to that fickle girl!" she said.
" I might as well make love to a stone."
Then they stood both of theifi apart in som-
bre silence a while.
Her mood changed; she moved noiselessly
toward him, and, standing half behind him, laiS
her hand softly on his shoulder, and poured hot
passion in his ear. "Alfred," she murmured,
"we are both unhappy; let us comfort one an-
other. I had pity on you at Silverton House, I
pity you now : pity me a little in turn ; take me
out of this dreadful house, out of this revolting
life, and let me be with you. Let me be your
housekeeper, your servant, your slave. This
news that has shocked you so has torn the veil
from my eyes ; I thought I had cooled my love
down to friendship and tender esteem ; but no,
now I see you as unhappy ns myself, now I 8n
speak and wrong no one, I own I oh Alfred
my heart bums for you, bleeds for you, yearns
for you, sickens for you, dies for you."
" Oh, hush ! hush ! Mrs. Archbold. You are
saying things you will blush for the next mo-
ment."
" I blush now, but can not hush ; I have gone
too far. And your happiness as well as mine is
at stake. No young girl can understand or value
such a man as you are : but I, like you, have
suffered ; I, like you, am constant ; I, like you,
am warm and tender; at my age a woman's
love is bliss to him who can gain it ; and I love
you with all my soul, Alfred; I worship the
ground you walk on, my sweet, sweet boy. Say
you the word, dearest, and I will bribe the serv-
ants, and get the keys, and sacrifice my profes-
sion forever to give you liberty (see how sweet
the open face of nature is, sweeter than any thing
on earth, but love!); and all I ask is a* little,
little of your heart in return. Give me a chance
to make you mine forever ; and, if I fail, treat
me as I shall deserve ; desert me at once ; and
then I'll never reproach you ; I'll only die for
you ; as I have lived for you ever since I firrt
saw your heavenly face."
The passionate woman paused at last, bat her
i\vo\. check .xi^\v^8Nvcv^ bosom and tender oon-
\ \\x\s\Ve hWi^ Y^0\qXV\E,'&^ ^"^k ^^bdSo^,'
VERY HARD CASH.
190
I am airaid few men of her own age would
have resisted her, for voioe and speech and all
were bnrning, melting, and winning : and then,
so reasonable, lads; she did not stipulate for
constancy.
But Alfred turned round to her blushing and
sorrowful : "For shame I" he said j "this is not
love: yon abuse that sacred word. Indeed, if
you had ever really loved, you would have pitied
^ me and Julia long ago, and respected our love ;
and saved us by giving me my freedom long ago.
I am not a fool : do you think I don'^ know tliat
you are my jailer, and the cunningest and most
remorseless of them all ?"
"You ungrateful wretch," she sobbed.
"No; I am not ungrateful either," said he,
more gently. "You have always come between
me and that kind of torture which most terrifies
vulgar souls ; and I thank you for it. Only, if
you had also pitied the deeper anguish of my
heart, I should thank you more still. As it is,
I forgive you for the share you have had in blast-
ing my happiness for life ; and nobody shall ever
know what you have been mad enough in an un-
guarded moment to say ; and for pity's sake talk
no more of love to mock my misery."
Mrs. Archbold was white with ire long before
he had done this sentence : " You insolent crcat-
ure," said she; "you spurn my love; you shall
feel my hate."
" So I conclude," said he, coldly : "such love
as yours is hard by hate."
" It is," said she : " and I know how I'll com-
bine the two. To-day I loved you, and you
spurned me ; ere long you shall love me, and I'll
despise you ; and not spurn you."
"I don't understand you," said Alfred, feel-
ing rather uneasy.
"What," said she; "don't you see how the
superior mind can fascinate the inferior ? Look
at Frank Beverley ; how he follows you about
and fawns on you, like a little dog."
"I prefer his sort of affection to yours."
"A gentleman and a man would have kept
that to himself;, but yitu are neither one nor the
other ; or you would have taken my ofFur, and
then run away from mo the next day, you fool.
A man betrays a woman ; he doesn't insult her.
Ah, you admire Frank's affection; well, you
shall imitate it. Yon couldn't love mo like a
man ; you shall love me like a dog."
"How will you manage that, pray?" he in-
quired, with a sneer.
"I'll drive you mad."
She hissed this fiendish threat out between
her white teeth.
"Ay, Sir," she saidj "hitherto your reason
has only encountered men. You shall see now
what an insulted woman can do. A lunatic
you shall be ere long, and then I'll make you
love mc, dote on me, follow me about for a
smile : and then I'll leave off hating you, and
love you once more, but not the way I did five
minutes ago."
At this depraved threat Alfred ground his
teeth, and said: "Then I give you my honor
that the moment I see my reason the least
shaken, I'll kill you and so save myself from
the degradation of being your lover on any
terms."
"Threaten your own sex with that," said the
Archbold, coDtomptuoasly ; "you may kill me
whenever you like ; and the sooner the better.
Only, if you don't do it very quickly, you shall
be my property; my brain-sick, love-sick slave."
CHAPTER XLIV.
After a defiance so bitter and deadly Alfred
naturally drew fiway from his inamorata. But
she, boiling with love and hate, said, bitterly,
"We need not take Mr. Rooke into our secrets.
Come, Sir, your arm I"
He stuck it out ungraciously, and averted his
head ; she took it, suppressed with difficulty a
petty desire to pinch, and so walked by his side ;
lie was as much at his ease as if promenading
jungles with a panther. She felt him quiver with
repugnance under her soft hand, and prolonged
the irritating contact. She walked very slowly,
and told him with much meaning she was wait-
ing for a signal. "Till then," said she, "we
will keep one another company;'* biting the
word with her teeth as it went out.
By-and-by a window was opened in the asy-
lum and a table-cloth hung out. Mrs. Archbold
pointed it out to Alfred ; he stared at it ; and
after that she walked him rapidly home in silence.
But, as ^on as the door was double-locked on
him, she wliispered triumphantly in his ear :
" Your mother-in-law was expected to-day ;
that signal was to let me know she was gone."
"My mother-in-law!" cried the young man,
and tried in vain to conceal his surprise and
agitation.
"Ay; your mother-in-law, that shall never
be: Mrs. i)odd."
"Mrs. Dodd here!" said Alfred, clasping his
hands. Then he reflected, and said, coolly : " It
is false ; what should she come here for?"
"To see your father-in-law."
" My father-in-law? What, is ho here too?'*
said Alfred, with an incredulous sneer.
"Yes, the raving maniac that calls himself
Thompson, and that you took to from the first :
he is your precious father-in-law that shall
never be.*'
Alfred was now utterly amazed and bewilder-
ed. Mrs. Archbold eyed him in silent scorn.
"Poor man," said he, at last; and hung his
head sorrowfully. "No wonder, then, his voice
went so to my heart. How strange it all is?
and how will it all end ?"
" In your being a madman instead of an inso-
lent fool," hissed the viper.
At this moment Beverley appeared at the end
of the yard. Mrs. Archbold whistled him to her
like a dog. He came running zealously. " Who
was that called while I was out?" she inquired.
"A polite lady, madam: she said Sir to me,
and thanked me."
" That sounds like Mrs. Dodd," said the Arch-
bold, quietly.
"Ah, but," continued Frank, "there was an-
other with her : a beautiful young lady ; oh, so
beautiful!"
" Miss Julia Dodd," said the Archbold, grimly.
Alfred panted, and his eyes roved wildly in
search of a way to escape and follow her ; she
could not be far off.
200
VERY HARD CASH.
^' No more ladies, madam ; but there was a
yoang gentleman all in black ; I think he was a
clergyman ; or a butler."
" Ah, that was her husband that is to be ; that
was Mr. Hurd. She can go nowhere without
him, not even to see her old beau.'*
At these words, every one of them an adder,
Alfred turned on her furiously, and his long arm
shot out of its own accord, and the fingers opened
like an eagle's claw. She saw, "and understood,
but never blenched. Her vindictive eye met his
dilating flashing orbs unflinchingly.
" You pass for a woman," he said, " and I am
too wretched for anger." He turned from her
with a deep convulsive sob, and, almost stagger-
ing, leaned his brow against the wall of the house.
She had done what no man had as yet suc-
ce^ed in ; she had broken his spirit. And here
a man would have left him alone. But the re-
jected beauty put her lips to his ear, and whis-
pered into them : "This is only the beginning."
Then she left him, and went to his room and
stole all his paper, and pens, and ink, and his
very Aristotle. He was to have no occupation
now, except to brood, and brood, and brood.
As for Alfred, he sat down upon a bench in the
yard, a broken man : up to this moment he had
hoped his Julia was as constant as himselh But
no ; either she had heard he was mad, and, with
the universal credulity had believed i' or per-
haps, not hearing from him at all, believed her-
self forsaken ; and was consoling herself with a
clergyman. Jealousy did not at first infuriate
Alfreid. Its first effect resembled that of a heavy
blo^. Little Beverley found him actually sick,
and ran to the Robin. The ex-prize-fighter
brought him a thimbleful of brandy: but he
woold not take it. "Ah, no, my friends," he
said, '* that can not cure me ; it is not my stom-
ach ; it is my heart. Broken ! broken !"
The Robin retired muttering. Little Beverley
kneeled down beside him, and kissed his hand
with an humble devotion that savored of the ca-
nine.
Yet it was tender, and the sinking heart clung
to it. "Oh, Fi'ank!" he cried, "my Julia be-
lieves me mad, or thinks me false, or something,
and she will marry another before I can get out,
to tell her all I have endured was for loving her.
What shall I do? God protect my reason!
What will become of me ?"
He moaned, and young Frank sorrowed over
him, till the harsh voice of Rooke summoned
him to some menial duty. This discharged, he
came running back ; and sat on the bench beside
his crushed benefactor without saying a word.
At last he delivered this sapient speech : " I see.
You want to get out of this place."
Alfred only sighed hopelessly.
"Then I must try and get you out," said
Frank.
Alfred shook his head.
" Just let me think," said Frank, solemnly ;
and he sat silent looking like a young owl : for
thinking soon puzzled him, and elicited his intel-
lectual weakness ; whereas in a grove of duties
he could go as smoothly as half the world, and
but for his official, officious Protector, might just
as well have been Boots at the Swan, as Boots
and Chambermaid at the Wolf.
on Alfred, and feebleness in person enlisted in
his defense. His adversary lost no time ; that
afternoon Rooke told him he was henceforth to
occupy a double-bedded room with another pa-
tient.
"If he should be violent in the middle of the
night, sing out, and we will come, if we hear
you," said the keeper with a malicious smile.
The patient turned out to be the able seaman.
Here Mrs. Archbold aimed a double stroke ; to
shake Alfred's nerves, and show him how very
mad his proposed father-in-law was. She thought
that, if he could once be forced to realize this, it
might reconcile him to not marrying thedaughter.
The first night David did get up, and paraded
an imaginary deck for four mortal hours. Al-
fred's sleep was broken; but he said nothing;
and David turned in again, his watch complet^
Not a day passed now but a blow was struck.
Nor was the victim passive ; debarred writing
materials, he cut the rims off several copies of
the Timesj and secreted them: then catching
sight of some ink-blots on the back of Frank'b
clothes-brush, scraped them carefully off, melted
them in a very little water, and with a toothpick
scrawled his wrongs to the Commissioners ; he
rolled the slips round a half-crown, and wrote
outside, " Grood Christian, keep this half-crown, ^
and take the writing to the Lunacy Commission-
ers at Whitehall, for pity's sake." This done,
he watched, and when nobody was looking flung
his letter, so weighted, over Uie gates : he heard
it fall on the public road.
Another day he secreted a spoonful of black
currant preserve, diluted it with a little water,
and wrote a letter, and threw it into the road as
before : another day, hearing the Robin express
disgust at the usage to which he was now sub-
jected, he drew him apart, and offered him a
hundred pounds to get him out. Now the ex-
prize-fighter was rather a tender-hearted fellow,
and a great detester of foul play. What he saw
made him now side heartily with Alfred ; and all
he wanted was to be indemnified for his risk.
He looked down and said, " You see, Sir, I
have a wife and child to think of."
Alfred offered him a hundred pounds.
"That is more than enough, Sir,'* said the
Robin ; " but you see I can't do it alone ; I must
have a pal in it. Could you afford as much to
Garrett? He is the likeliest; I've heard him
sa{y' as much as that he was sick of the business.'*
Alfred jumped at the proposal : he would give
them a hundi-ed apiece.
"I'll sound him," said the Robin; don't
you speak to him whatever. He might blow the
gaff. I must begin by making him rnnk : then
he'll tell me his real mind."
One fine morning the house was made much
cleaner than usual ; the rotatory chair, in which
they used to spin a maniac like a tee-totum, the
restraint chairs, and all the paraphernalia, were
sent into the stable, and so disposed that, even
if found, they would look like things scorned
and dismissed from service: for Wolfe, mind
you, professed the non-restraint system.
Alfred asked what was up, and fbnnd all this
was in preparation for the quarterly visit of the
Commissioners ; a visit intended to be a smprise ;
but Drayton House always knew when they yr&K
\ cornvTv?,, QiTv^ t\k^ "^ety names of the two timoder-
So now force and cunning had declared war \ \^o\Xa iSiaX \XiO\v^\. Va ^Arrjinafe ^sai.
VERY HAKD CASH.
201
Mrs. Archbold commnnicated her knowledge
in off-hand tenns. ** It is only two old women,
Bartlett and Terry."
The gentlemen thus flatteringly heralded ar-
rived next day. One, an aged, infirm man,
with a gnrand benevolent head, bald front and
silver hair, and the gold -headed cane of his
youth, now a dignified crutch ; the other, an
ordinary-looking little chap enough : with this
At last Mr. Bartlett gave Alfred some hopes
he was taking in the truth ; for he tore a leaf
out of his memorandum-book, wrote on it, and
passed it to Dr. Terry. The ancient took it
with a smile, and seemed to make an efibrt to
master it, but failed ; it dropped simultaneously
from his finger and his mind.
Not a question was put to Alfred ; so he wad
fain to come to an end ; he withdrew sudden-
merit, he was what he looked. They had a ] ly, and caught Mrs. Archbold at the keyhole,
long interview with Mrs. Archbold first, for fear "Noble adversary !" said he, and stalked away
they should carry a naked eye into the asylum ; and hid himself hard by : and no sooner did the
Mr. Bartlett, acting on instructions, very soon j inspectors come out, and leave the coast clear,
inquired about Alfred. Mrs. Archbold's face than he darted in and looked for the paper Mr.
put on friendly concern directly. **I am sorry
to say ho is not so well as he was a fortnight ago;
not nearly so well. We have given him walks
in the country, too ; but I regret to say they did
him no real good ; he came back much excited,
and now he shuns the other patients, which he
used not to do.'' In short, she gave them the
impression that Alfred was a moping noelan-
choliac.
" Well, I had better see him," said Mr. Bart-
lett, "just to satisfy the Board, "
Bartlett had passed to Dr. Terry.
He found it on the floor, and took it eagerly
up ; and full of hope and expectation, read these
words :
What is the name op the stuff the mat-
ron's GOWN IS MADE OF ? I SHOULD LIKE TO
BUT Mrs. Bartlett one like rr.
Alfred stood and read this again and again ;
he searched for some hidden symbolical mean-
ing in the words. High-minded, and deeply im-
pressed with his own wrongs, he could not con-
Alfred was accordingly sent for, and asked , ceive a respectable man, paid fifteen hundred a
with an indifferent air how he was. I year to spy out wrongs, being so heartless hard
He said he was very well in health, but in | as to write this single comment during the
sore distress of mind at his lettei-s to the Com- earnest recital of a wrong so gigantic as his.
missioners being intercepted by Mrs. Archbold Poor Alfred learned this to his cost, that to put
or Dr. Wolf.
Mrs. Archbold smiled, pityingly. Mr. Bart-
lett caught her glance, and concluded this was
one of the patient's delusions. (Formula.)
Alfred surprised the glances, and said, "You
can hardly believe this, because the act is illegal.
But a great many illegal acts that you never
detect are done in asylums. However, it is not
a question of surmise : I sent four letters in the
regular way since I came. Here are their sev-
eral dates. Pray make a note to inquire whether
they have reached Whitehall or not."
"Oh, certainly, to oblige you," said Mr.
Bartlet^ and made the note.
Mrs. Archbold looked rather discomposed at
that.
"And now, gentlemen," said Alfred, "since
Mrs. Archbold has had a private interview,
which I see she has abused to poison your mind
against me, I claim as simple justice a private
interview to disabuse you."
"You are the first patient evpr told me to
walk out of my own drawing-room," said Mrs.
Archbold, rising, white with ire and apprehen-
sion, and sweeping out of the room.
By this piece of female petulance she gave the
enemy a point in the game ; for, if she had in-
sisted on staying, Mr. Bartlett was far too weak
to have dismissed her. As it was, he felt shocked
at Alfred's rudeness, and so small a thing as
justice did not, in his idea, counterbalance so
great a thing as discourtesy ; so he listened to
Alfred's tale with the deadly apathy of an un-
willing hearer. "Pour on; I will endure," as
poor Lear says.
As for Dr. Terry, he was pictorial, but null ;
. effete ; emptied of brains by all-scooping Time.
If he had been detained that day at Drayton
House, and Frank Beverley sent back in his
place to Whitehall, it would have mattered little
to him, less to the nation, and nothing to man-
kind.
N
small men into great places is to create mon-
sters. When he had realized the bitter truth, he
put the stony-hearted paper in his pocket, crept
into the yard, and sat down, and, for all he
could do, scalding tears ran down his cheeks.
"Homunculi quanti sunt!" he sobbed.
"Homunculi quanti sunt!"
Presently he saw Dr. Terry come wander-
ing toward him alone. The Archbold had not
deigned to make him safe ; senectitude had done
that. Alfred, all heart-sick as he was, went to
the old gentleman out of veneration for the out-
side of his head which was Shakspearian and
pity for his bodily infirmity, and offered him an
arm. The doctor thanked him sweetly, and said,
" Pray, young man, have you any thing to com-
municate?'*
Then Alfred saw that the ancient man had
already forgotten his face, and so looking at him
with that rare instrument of official inspection,
the naked eye, had seen he was sane ; and con-
sequently taken him for a keeper.
How swiftly the mind can roam, and from
what a distance gather the materials of a thought !
Flashed like lightning through Alfred's mind this
line from one of his pets, the Greek philosophers:
Kcu rovro fieyicrtiv earn rex^nv afaOa iroieiv to Kcuca.
"And this is the greatest stroke of art, to turn an evil
into a good."
Now the feebleness of this aged Inspector was
an evil : the thing then was to turn it into a
good. Shade of Plato, behold how thy disciple
worked thee ! " Sir," said he, sinking his voice
mysteriously, "I have: but I am a poor man ;
you won't say I told you : it's as much as my
place is worth."
"Confidence, strict confidence," replied Nes-
tor, going over beaten tracks ; for he had kept
many a queer secret with the loyalty whidi d^%
his profeseioTv %o xsv^OtvVaxvQt ,
202
VERY HARD CASH.
fined here, who is no more mad than you and I ;
and never was mad."
"You don't say 80.*'
"That I do, Sir : and they know they are do-
ing wrong. Sir : for they stop all his letters to
the Commissioners ; and that is unlawful, you
know. Would you like to take a note of it all,
Sir?"
The old fogy said he thought he should, and
groped vaguely for his note-book : he extracted
it at last like a loose tooth, fumbled with it, and
dropped it : Alfred picked it up fuming inwardly.
The ancient went to write, but his fingers
were weak and hesitating, and by this time he
had half forgotten what he was going to say.
Alfred's voice quavered with impatience ; but he
fought it down, and ofiercd as coolly as he could
to write it for him : the offer was accepted, and
he wrote down in a feigned hand, very clear,
"Drayton House, Oct. 6. A sane patient,
Alfred Hardie, confined here from interested
motives. Has written four letters to the Com-
missioners, all believed to be intercepted. Com-
municated to me in confidence by an attendant
in the house. Refer to the party himself, and
his correspondence with the Commissioners from
Dr. Wycherley's : also to Thomas Wales, anoth-
er attendant ; and to Dr. Wycherley : also to Dr.
Eskell, and Mr. Abbott, Commissioners of Lu-
nacy."
After this stroke of address Alfred took the
first opportunity of leaving him, and sent Frank
Beverley to him.
Thus Alfred, alarmed by the hatred of Mrs.
Archbold, and racked with jealousy, exerted all
his intelligence and played many cards for lib-
erty. One he kept in reserve ; and a trump card
too. Having now no ink nor coloring matter,
he did not hesitate, but out penknife, up sleeve,
and drew blood from his arm, and with it wrote
once more to the Commissioners, but kept this
letter hidden for an ingenious purpose. What
that was my reader shall divine.
CHAPTER XLV.
We left Julia Dodd a district visitor. Visiting
in a dense parish she learned the depths of human
misery, bodily and mental.
She visited an honest widow, so poor that she
could not afford a farthing dip, but sat in the
dark. When friends visited her they sometimes
brought a candle to talk by.
She visited a cripple who often thanked God
sincerely for leaving her the use of one thumb.
She visited a poor creature who for sixteen
years had been afflicted with a tumor in the
neck, and had lain all those years on her back
with her head in a plate ; the heat of a pillow
being intolerable. Julia found her longing to go,
and yet content to stay : and praising God in all
the lulls of that pain, which was her companion
day and night.
But were I to enumerate the ghastly sights,
the stifling loathsome odors, the vulgar horrors
upon horrors this refined young lady faced, few
of my readers would endure on paper for love of
Probably such sacrifices of selfish ease and
comfort are never quite in vain ; they tend in
many ways to heal our own wounds: I won't
say that bodily suffering is worse than mental ;
but it is realized far more vividly by a spectator.
The grim heart-breaking sights she saw arrayed
Julia's conscience against her own grief; the
more so when she found some of her most afflict-
ed ones resigned, and even grateful. "What,'*
said she, " can they, all rags, disease, jind suf-
fering, bow so cheerfully to the will of Heaven,
and have I the wickedness, the impudence, to
repine ?"
And then, happier than most district visitors,
she was not always obliged to look on helpless,
or to confine her consolations to good words.
Mrs. Dodd was getting on famously in her
groove. She was high in the confidence of Cross
and Co., and was inspecting eighty ladies, as well
as working.: her salary and profits together were
not less than five hundred pounds a year ; and
her one luxury was charity, and Julia its min-
ister. She carried a good honest basket, and
there you might see her Bible wedged in with
wine, and meat, and tea and sugar : and still, as
these melted in her round, a little spark of some-
thing warm would sometimes come in her own
sick heart. Thus by degrees she was attaining,
not earthly happiness, but a grave and pensive
composure.
Yet across it gusts of earthly grief came sweep-
ing often ; but these she hid till she was herself
again.
To her mother and brother she was kinder,
sweeter, and dearer if possible, than ever. They
looked on her as a saint ; but she knew better ;
and used to blush with honest shame when they
called her so. "Oh don't, pray don't," she
would say, with unaffected pain. " Love me as
if I was an angel ; but do not praise me ; that
turns my eyes inward and makes me see myself.
I am not a Christian yet, nor any thing like one."
Returning one day from her duties very tired,
she sat down to take off her bonnet in her own
room, and presently heard snatches of an argu-
ment, that made her prick those wonderful little
ears of hers that could almost hear through a
wall. The two concluding sentences were suffi-
ciently typical of the whole dialogue.
" Why disturb her ?" said Mrs. Dodd. " She
is getting better of * the wretch ;' and my advice
is, say nothing: what harm can that do?"
"But then it is so unfair, so ungenerous, to
keep any thing from the poor girl that may con-
cern her."
At this moment Julia came softly into the
room, with her curiosity hidden under an air of
angelic composure.
Her mother asked after Mrs. Beecher, to draw
her into conversation. She replied, quietly, that
Mrs. Beecher was no better, but very thankful
for the wine Mrs. Dodd had sent her. This an-
swer given, she went without any apparent hurry
and sat by Edward, and fixed two loving, implor-
ing eyes on him in silence. Oh, subtle sex!
This feather was to turn the scale, and make
him talk unquestioned. It told. She was close
to him too, and mamma at the end of the room.
"Look here, Ju," said he, putting his hands
in his pockets, "we two have always been friends,
truthf what she endured in reality for love of. ^ ^^^^^ ,, *..^ i^v. a**ww,,
saffhrlng humanity, and of Him whose servanU aa vreU aa Vsto^Xvet wxd sister ; and somehow it
?Ae aspired to be. \ does not saeoi'^'^ kltv&\A\oKft^^\\i%% ^axki*'
she
VERY HARD CASH.
then to Mrs. Dodd: "She is not a child, mo-
ther, after all ; and how can it be wrong to tell
her the truth, or right to suppress the truth?
Well then, Ju, there's an advertisement in the
^Tiser, and it's a regular riddle. Now mind, I
don't really think there is any thing in it ; but
it is a droU coincidence, very droll ; if it wasn't
there are ladies present, and one of thm a dis-
trict visitor, I would say, d d droll. So droll,"
continued he, getting warm, "that I should like
to punch the advertiser's head."
"Let me see it, dear," said Julia. "I dare
say it is nothing worth punching about."
" There," said Edward. "I've marked it."
Julia took the paper, and her eye fell on this
short advertisement :
AILEEN AROON. DISTRUST Appear-
ances.
Looking at her with some anxiety, they saw
the paper give one sharp rustle in her hands, and
then quiver a little. She bowed her head over
it, and every thing seemed to swim. But she
my son, I am mortified. *' And Mrs. Dodd lean-
ed her cheek against Edward's, and sighed.
" Now don't you cry, mammy," said he, sor-
rowfully. "I'll break every bone in his skin,
for your comfort."
" Heaven forbid !" cried Mrs. Dodd, anxious-
ly. "What, are you not aware she would hate
you?"
"Hate me! her brother I"
"She would hate us all, if we laid a finger
on that wretch. Pray interfere no more, love ;
foolish child, talking to me about women, and it
is plain you know nothing of their hearts: and a
good thing /or you." She then put on maternal
authority (nobody could do it more easily) and
solemnly forbade all violence.
He did not venture to contradict her now;
but cherished his resolution all the more, and
longed for the hour when he might take "the
wretch" by the throat and chastise him, the
more publicly the better.
Now, the above incident that revealed Julia's
,- , - , J . i r ^1 V real heart,' which she had been hiding more or
never moved : they conld neither of them see her j^^^ ^y ^^4 time from those who could not sym-
face, she defended herself with the paper. The
letters cleared again, and, still hiding her face,
she studied, and studied the advertisement.
"Come, tell us what you think of it," said
Edward. "Is it any thing? or a mere coinci-
dence ?"
"It is a pure coincidence," said Mrs. Dodd,
with an admirable imitation of cool confidence.
Julia said nothing ; but she now rose and put
both arms round Edward's neck, and kissed him
fervidly again and again, holding the newspaper
tight all the time.
"There," said Mrs. Dodd: "see what you
have done."
" Oh, it is all right," said Edward, cheerfully.
" The British fireman is getting hugged no end.
Why what is the matter? have you got the hic-
cough, Ju ?"
" No ; no ! You are a true brother. I knew
all along that he would explain all if he was
alive: and he is alive," kissing the ^Tiser vio-
pathize with her, took eventually a turn unfa-
vorable to "the wretch." So he might well be
called. Her great and settled fear had always
been that Alfred was dead. Under the imme-
diate influence of his father's cunning, she had
for a moment believed he was false ; but so true
and loving a heart could not rest in that opin-
ion. In true love, so long as there is one grain
of uncertainty, there is a world of faith and
credulous ingenuity. Now, as Alfred had never
been seen since, as nobody could say he was
married to another, there was a grain of uncer-
tainty as to his unfaithfulness, and this her true
heart magnified to a mountain.
But now matters wore another face. She was
sure he had written the advertisement. Who
but he, out of the few that take the words of any
song to heart, admired Aileen Aroon ? Who but
he, out of the three or four people who might
possibly care for that old song, had appearances
to explain away ? and who but he knew they took
lently more than once ; this done, she fluttered ^^ th^ Morning Advertiser? She waited then for
away with it to her own room ashamed to show , ^j^^ explanation she had invited. She read tiie
her joy, and yet not able to hide it. advertising column every day over and over.
Mrs. Dodd shook her head, sorrowfully : and ^^^ ^ ^j.^ ^^^^ -' ^
Edward began to look rueful and doubt whether | T^en her womanly pride was deeply wounded,
he had done wisely. I omit the discussion that ^i^^^ ^ad she courted an explanation where
followed But the next time his duties permit- \ ^^^^ j^^j^g ^^^^ ^^^^ ^^^^^^ ^^ ^^^
ted him to visit them, Mrs. Dodd showed him , courted it in vain !
the ' Tiser in her turn, and with her pretty white
taper finger pointed grimly to the following ad-
vertisement :
AILEEN AROON. I do DISTRUST Ap-
PEARANOKS. But if you ever loved me explain them
at once. I have something for you from your dear sister.
"Poor simple girl," said Mrs. Dodd, "not to
see that, if he could explain at all, he would ex-
plain, not go advertising an enij^a after such
a mystification. And to think of my innocent
dove putting in that she had something for him
from his sister ; a mighty temptation to such a
wretch!"
"It was wonderfully silly," said Edward;
"and such a clever girl, too; but you ladies
can't stick to one thing at a time ; begging your
pardon, mamma."
Mrs. Dodd took no notice of this remark.
"To see ber lower herself so I" she said, " 0, \
Her high spirit revolted. Her heart swelled
against the repeated insults she had received :
this last one filled the bitter cup too high.
And then her mother came in and assured her
he had only inserted that advertisement to keep
her in his power. He has heard you are recov-
ering, and that you are admired by others more
worthy of your esteem.
Julia cried bitterly at these.arguments, for she
could no longer combat them.
And Mr. Hurd was very attentive and kind.
And when he spoke to Julia, and Julia turned
away, her eye was sure to meet Mrs. Dodd's eye
imploring her secretly not to discourage the
young man too much. And so she was gently
pulled by one, and gently thrust by another,
away from her firet Iot^t sA^Rro"x^^s^&'cks^.-
204
VERY HARD CASH.
its malice on our fiM love. For the second the
road is smoother. Matters went on so some
weeks, and it was perfectly true that Mr. Hurd
escorted both ladies one day to Drayton House,
at Julia's request, and not Mrs. Dodd's. In-
deed, the latter lady was secretly hurt at his
being allowed to come with them.
One Saturday afternoon, Mrs. Dodd went alone
to Drayton House, by appointment. David was
like a lamb, but, as usual, had no knowledge of
her. Mrs. Archbold told her a quiet, intelligent
patient had taken a great fancy to him, and she
thought this was adding much to his happiness.
*^May I see him to thank him?'* asked Mrs.
Dodd. " Oh, certainly," said Mrs. Archbold ;
** I'll inquire for him." She went out, but soon
returned, saying, "He is gone out for a walk
with the head keeper : we give him as much air
and amusement as we can; we hope soon to
send him out altogether, cured." "Truly kind
and thoughtful," said Mrs. Dodd. Soon after,
she kissed Mrs. Archbold, and pressed a valuable
brooch upon her : and then took leave. How-
ever, at the gate she remembered her parasol.
Mrs. Archbold said she would go back for it.
Mrs. Dodd would not hear of that : Mrs. Arch-
bold insisted, and settled the question by going.
She was no sooner in the house than young
Frank Beverley came running to Mrs. Dodd,
and put the missing parasol officiously into her
hand. "Oh, thank you. Sir,'* said she; "will
you be so kind as to tell Mrs. Archbold I have
it ?" And with this they parted, and the porter
opened the gate to h^r, and she got into her
hired cab. She leaned her head back, and, as
usual, was lost in the sorrowful thoughts of
what had been, and what now was. Poor wife,
each visit to Drayton House opened "her wound
af]*esh. On reaching the stones there was a
turnpike. This roused her up: she took out
her purse and paid it. As she drew back to
her seat, she saw out of the tail of her feminine
eye the edge of something white under her par-
asol. She took up the parasol, and found a writ-
ten paper pinned on to it : she detached this pa-
per, and examined it all over with considerable
curiosity. It consisted of a long slip about an
inch and a quarter broad, rolled like tape, and
tied with pack-thread. She could not sec the
inside, of course, but she read the superscrip-
tion : it was firmly but clearly written, in red
ink apparently.
Of the words I shall only say at present that
they were strong and simple, and that their effect
on the s^\^ft intelligence and tender heart of Mrs.
Dodd was overpowering. They knocked at her
heart ; they drew from her an audible cry of pity
more eloquent than a thousand speeches : and the
next moment she felt a little faint ; for she knew
now the appeal was not in red ink, but in some-
^ thing very fit to pass between the heart of woe
" and the heart of pity. She smelt at her salts,
and soon recovered that weakness : and now her
womanly bosom swelled so with the milk of hu-
man kindness that her breath came short. After
a little struggle, she gushed out aloud, "Ah,
that I will, poor soul ; this very moment." Now,
by this time she was close to her own house.
She stopped the cab at the door, and asked
the driver if his horse wals fresh enough to carry
her to the Board of Lunacy : " It is at White-
hall, Sir," said she. " Lord bless you, ma'am,"
said the cabman, "Whitehall?, why my mare
would take you to Whitechapel and back in an
hour, let alone Whitehall.'*
Reassured on that point^ Mrs. Dodd went in
just to give the servant an order : but, as she
stood in the passage, she heard her children's
voices, and also a friend's the genial, angry
tones of Alexander Sampson, M.D.
She thought, "Oh, I must just show them all
the paper, before I go with it ;" and so, after a
little buzz about dinner and things with Sarah,
mounted the stairs, and arrived among them
singularly apropos, as it happened.
Men like Sampson, who make many foes, do
also make stancher friends than ever the Hare
does, and are faithful friends themselves. The
boisterous doctor had stuck to the Dodds in all
their distresses ; and, if they were ever short of
money, it certainly was not his fault : for almost
his first word, when he found them in a lodging,
was, " Now, ye*ll be wanting a Chick. Gimme
pen and ink, and I'll just draw ye one ; for a
hundre." This being declined politely by Mrs.
Dodd, he expostulated. " Maidear Madam,
how on airth can ye go on in such a place as
London without a Chick ?*'
He returned to the charge at his next visit,
and scolded her well for her pride. " Who iver
hard of refusing a chick? a small inoffensive
chick, from an old friend like me ? Come now,
behave ! Just a wee chick : I'll let y' off" for
fifty."
" Give us your company and your friendship,'*
said Mrs. Dodd; "we value them above gold:
we will not rob your dear children while we have
as many fingers on our hands as other people."
On the present occasion Dr. Sampson, whose
affectionate respect for the leading London phy-
sicians has already displayed itself, was inveigh-
ing specially against certain specialists, whom,
in the rapidity of his lusty eloquence, he called
the Mad Ox. He favored Julia and Edward
with a full account of the maniform enormities
he had detected them in during thirty years'
practice ; and so descended to his present griev-
ance. A lady, an old friend of his, was being
kept in a certain asylum month after month be-
cause she had got money and relations, and had
once been delirioys. "And why was she deliri-
ous? because she had a brain-fever : she got well
in a fortnight.** This lady had thrown a letter
over the wall addressed to him ; somebody had
posted it: he had asked the Commissioners to
let him visit her ; they had declined for the pres-
ent. "Yon Board always sides with the strong
against the weak," said he. Sd now he had
bribed the gardener, and made a midnight assig-
nation with the patient ; and was going to it with
six stout fellows to carry her oflf by force. " That
is my recipe for alleged Insanity,** said he.
"The business will be more like a mejaeval
knight carrying off^ a namorous nun out of a con-
vint, than a good physician saving a pashint
from the Mad Ox. However, Mrs. Saampson's
in the secret ; I daunt say sh* approves it ; for she
doesn't. She fays, * Go quitelv to the Board of
Commissioners.* Sis I, ' My dear, Boards.are a
sort of cattle that go too slow for SaampsoD,
and no match at all for the Mad Oau* ^
VERY HARD CASH.
205
At this conjanctare, or soon after, Mrs. Dodd
came in with her paper in her hand, a little flur-
ried for once, and, after a hasty courtesy, said,
"Oh, Dr. Sampson, oh, my dears, what
wickedness there* is in the world 1 Pm going to
Whitehall this moment ; only look at what was
pinned on my parasol at Drayton House.''
The writing passed from hand to hand, and
left the readers looking very gravely at one an-
other. Jolia was quite pale and horror-istricken.
All were too deeply moved, and even shocked, to
make any commonplace comment ; for it looked
and read like a cry from the writer's heart to
their hearts.
" If you are a Christian^ If
you are human, pity a eane
man here confined by frauds
and take this to the Board of
Lunacy at Whitehall Tom
by treachery from her I love^
my letters all intercepted^ pens
and paper kept from me, I
write this with a tooth-pick
and my blood on a rim of the
Times, Oh Christ direct it
to some one who has miffered^
and can fed fgr another^s
agony.''
Dr. Sampson was the first to speak. "There,"
said he, under his breath: "didn't I tell you?
This man is sane. There's sanity in every fine."
"Well, but," said Edward, "do you mean to
say that in the present day "
* * Mai dearr Sirr. Mankind niver changes.
Whativer the muscles of man can do in the light,
the mind and conscience of man will consent to
do in the dark."
Julia said never a word.
Mrs. Dodd, too, was for action, not for talk.
She bade them all a hasty adieu, and went on
her good work.
Ere she got to the street door she heard a
swift rustle behind her ; and it was Julia flying
down to her, all glowing and sparkling with her
old impetuosity, that had seemed dead forever.
" No, no," she cried, panting with generous emo-
tion ; "it is to mc it was sent. I am torn from
him I love, and by some treachery I dare say :
and I have suffered, oh you shall never know
what I have suffered. Give it 7, oh pray, pray,
pray give it me. Til take it to Whitehall."
CHAPTER XLVI.
If we could always know at the time what we
are doing !
Two ladies carried a paper to Whitehall out
of charity to a stranger.
Therein the elder was benefactress to a man
she never spoke of but as "the wretch;" the
younger held her truant bridegroom's heart, I
may say, in her hand all the road, and was his
protectress. Neither recognized the handwrit-
ing : for no man can write his own hand with a
tooth-pick.
They reached Whitehall, and were conducted
up stairs to a gentleman of pleasant aspect but
gwerful brow, seated in a wilderness of letters,
c waved his hand, and a clerk set them chairs :
he soon after laid down his pen, and leaned
gravely forward to hear their business. They
saw they mast waste no time ; Julia looked at
her mother, fose, and took Alfred's missive to
his desk, and handed it him with one of her
eloquent looks, grave and pitiful. He seemed
struck by her beauty and her manner.
"It was pinned on my parasol. Sir, by a poor
prisoner at Drayton House," said Mrs. Dodd.
"Oh, indeed," said the gentleman, and began
to read the superscription with a cold and wary
look. But it thawed visibly as he read. He
opened the missive, and ran his eye over it. The
perusal moved him not a little : a generous flush
mounted to his brow ; he rang the bell sharply.
A clerk answered it ; the gentleman wrote on a
slip of paper, and said, earnestly, "Bring me
every letter that is signed with that name, and
all our correspondence about him."
He then turned to Mrs. Dodd, and put her a
few questions, which drew out the main facts I
have just related. The papers were now brought
in. "Excuse me a moment," said he, and ran
over them. "I believe the man is sane," said
he, " and that you will have enabled us to baflle
a conspiracy, a heartless conspiracy."
"We do hope he will be set free. Sir," said
Mrs. Dodd, piteously.
*' He shall, madam, if it is as I suspect. I will
stay here all night but I will master this case,
and lay it before the Board myself without de-
lay."
Julia looked at her mother, and then asked if
it would be wrong to inquire "the poor gentle-
man's name."
"Humph !" said the official ; " I ought not to
reveal that without his consent. But stay ! he
will owe you much, and it really seems a pity he
should not have an opportunity of expressing his
gratitude. Perhaps you will favor me with yqur
address, and trust to my discretion : of course,
if he does not turn out as sane as he seems, I
shall never let him know it."
Mrs. Dodd then gave her address; and she
and Julia went home with a glow about the
heart selfish people, thank Heaven, never know.
Unconsciously these two had dealt their enemy
and Alfred's a heavy blow ; had set the train to
a mine. Their friend at the office was a man of
another stamp than Alfred had fallen in with.
Meantime Alfred was subjected to hourly
mortifications and irritations. He guessed the
motive, and tried to baffie it by calm self-posses-
sion : but this ras far more difficult than here-
tofore, because his temper was now exacerbated
and his fibre irritated by broken sleep (of this
poor David was a great cause), and his heart in-
flamed and poisoned by that cruel, that corrod-
ing passion, jealousy.
To think that while he was in prison a rival
was ever at his Julia's ear, making more and
more progress in her heart. This corroder was
his bitter companion day and night ; and per-
haps of all the maddeners human cunning could
have invented this was the worst. It made his
temples beat and his blood run boiling poison.
Indeed, there were times when he was so dis-
tempered by passion that homicjde seemed but
an act of justice, and suicide a legitimate relief.
For who could go on forever carrying Hell in
his bosom up and down a prison yard ? He be- ,
gan to go alone : to turn impatiently from the
petty troubles and fathomless egotism of those
afflicted persons he had hitherto forced his sore
206
VERY HARD CASH.
heart to pUy. Pale, thin, and wobegone, he
walked the weary gravel, like the lost ones in that
Hall of Eblis, whose hearts were a devoaring
fire. Even an inspector with a naked eye would
no longer have distinguished him at first sight
from a lunatic of the unhappiest class, the mel-
ancholiac.
Ipse aaum cor edens hominam vestigia vitans.
Mrs. Archbold looked on and saw this sad
sight not with the pity it would once have
caused, but with a sort of bitter triumph light-
ened by no pleasure, and darkened by the shad^
ow of coming remorse. Yet up to this time she
had shown none of that inconstancy of purpose
which marks her sex ; while she did go far to
justify the poet's charge :
*' Nor Hell a fury like a woman scorned.**
Rooke had a hint to provoke Alfred to vio-
lence such as would justify them in subjecting
so popular a patient to bodily restraint, com-
posing draughts, and other quick maddeners.
Rooke entered into the game zealously from two
motives ; he was devoted to Mrs. Archbold, and
he hated Alfred, who had openly defied him and
mortified his vanity about Frank Beverley.
One Saturday Alfred was ordered out to walk
with Rooke and Hayes and Vulcan. He raised
no objection; suspected, felt homicidal, sup-
pressed the impulse, and by this self-command
he got time to give that letter to Beverley with
instructions.
But, all the walk, he was saying to himself
that Julia was in the house, and he was kept
away from her, and a rival with her ; this made
him sicken and rage by turns. He came back
in a state verging on fury.
On entering the yard poor Beverley, who had
done his bit of cunning, and by reaction now re-
lapsed into extra simplicity, came running, and
said, **rve done it; she has got it."
* * What have you done ? Who has got what ?"
"Don't tell, Frank."
*'If ypu don't I'll shake your life out, ye
young blackguard," cried Rooke, seizing him,
and throttling him till he was black in the face.
Alfred's long-pent fury broke out : he gnashed
his teeth and dashed his fist in Rooke's face.
Rooke bellowed with pain and anger, and,
rushing at him incautiously, received a stinger
that staggered him, and nearly closed his right
eye. He took the hint, and put himself in a
posture that showed he was skilled in the art of
self-defense. He stopped two blows neatly, and
returned a heavy one upon the ribs. Alfred
staggered back some steps, but steadied himself,
an^ as Rooke rushed in too hastily to improve
his advantage, caught him heavily on the other
eye, but lost his own balance a little, which en-
abled Rooke to close ; then came a sharp, short
rally of re-echoing blows, and Rooke, not to be
denied, got hold of his man, and a wrestling
bout ensued, in which, Alfred being somewhat
weakened by misery and broken rest, Rooke's
great weight and strength enabled him after a
severe struggle to fall with his antagonist under
him, and knock the breath out of his body for
the moment. 'Then Hayes, who had stood pru-
dently aloof, came in and helped handcufi^ him ;
they could not walk up and down him for the
Robin, who stood by with a. professional air to
see fair play. ^ . :
** Ah, cold iron is your best chance," he said.
satirically. "Never you mind. Sir: you hit
quick and well : I'd back you at long odds in
the ring : both his peepers are in deep mourn-
ing." He added, ^'A cow can beat a man
wrestling."
When Alfred was handcuffed they turned him
loose. It soon transpired, however, that he was
now a dangerous maniac (Formula), and to be
confined in the noisy ward.
On hearing this he saw the trap he had fallen
into ; saw and trembled : he asked himself what
on earth he should do ; and presently the saying
came back to him, "And this is the highest
stroke of art to turn evil into good." He argued
thus : Wolfs love of money is my great evil : he
will destroy me for money, do any thing for
money. Then suppose I offer him money to' be
honest. He begged an interview with Dr. Wolf
on business. This was accorded at once. He
asked the doctor plump whether he received a
large sum to detain him under pretense of in-
sanity.
"Not very, considering the trouble you some-
times give, Mr. Hardie," was the dry rcply.
" Well, then, justice shall outbid rascality for
once. I am a sane man, and you know it; a
man of my word, and you know it. I'll give
you a thousand pounds to let me out of this
place."
Dr. Wolfs eyes sparkled.
"You shall have any bond or security you
like ; and the money within a week of my de-
liverance."
Dr. Wolf said he should be delighted to do it,
if he could conscientiously.
At this piece of hypocrisy Alfred's cheek red-
dened, and he could not speak.
"Well, well, I do see a great change in you
for the better," said Dr. Wolf. "If, as I sus-
pect, you are convalescent, I will part with you
without a thousand pounds or a thousand pence."
Alfred stared. Had he mistaken his man ?
" I'll tell you what, though," said the smooth
doctor. "I have got two pictures, one by Ra-
phael, one by Correggio."
" I know them," said the quick-witted Alfred ;
"they are worth more than a thousand pounds."
"Of course they are, but I would take a thou-
sand pounds from yo."
"Throw me in my liberty, and I'll make it
guineas."
"We will see about that." And with this
understanding the men of business parted. Dr.
Wolf consulted Mrs. Archbold then and there.
"Impossible," said she; "the law would dis-
solve such a bargain, and you would be exposed
and ruined."
"But a thousand pounds !" said the poor doc-
tor.
"Oh, he offered me more than that," said
Mrs. Archbold.
" You don't mean to say so ; when was that?"
"Do you remember one Sunday that I walked
him out to keep clear of Mrs. Dodd ? Have yoa
not obsen^ed that I have not repeated the ex-
periment ?"
"Yes. But I really don't know why."
"Will you promise me faithfully not to take
any notice if I tell you ?"
The doctor promised.
Then she owned to him with manifest reluct-
ance that Alfred had taken advantago of her
VERY HARD CASH.
207
kindness, her indiscretion, in walking alone with
him, and made passionate love to her. ''He
offered me not a thousand pounds," said she,
'' but his whole fortune and his heart, if I would
flj with him from these odious walls ; that was
his expression."
Then seeing out of a comer of her eye that the
doctor was turning almost green with jealousy,
this artist proceeded to describe the love-scene
between her and Alfred, with feigned hesitation,
yet minute detail ; only she inverted the parts ;
Alfred in her glowing page made the hot love ;
she listened abashed, confused, and tried all she
could think of to bring him to better sentiments.
She concluded this chapter of history inverted
with a sigh, and said, ** So now he hates me, 1
believe, poor fellow."
"Do you regret your refusal?" asked Dr.
Wolf, uneasily.
'* Oh no, my dear friend. Of course my judg-
ment says that few women at my age and in my
position would have refused. But we poor wo-
men seldom go by our judgments." And she
cast a tender look down at the doctor's feet.
In short, she worked on him so that he left
Alfred at her disposition, and was no sooner
gone to his other asylum six miles off than the
calumniated was conducted by Hayes and Rooke
through passage after passage, and door after
door, to a wing of the building connected with
the main part only by a covered way. As they
neared it, strange noises became audible. Faint
at first, they got louder and louder. Singing,
roaring, howling like wolves. Alfred's flesh be-
gan to creep. He stopped at the covered way :
he would have fought to his last gasp sooner
than go further; but he was handcuffed. He
appealed to the keepei^ : but he, had used them
both too roughly ; they snarled and forced him
on, and shut him into a common flagged cell,
with a fllthy truckle-bed in it, and all the vessels
of gutta-percha. Here he was surrounded by
the desperate order of maniacs he at present
scarcely knew but by report. Throughout that
awful night he could never close his eyes for
the horrible unearthly sounds that assailed him.
Singing, swearing, howling like wild beasts!
His right-hand neighbor reasoned high of faith
and works, ending each pious argument with a
sudden rhapsody of oaths, and never slept a
wink. His left-hand neighbor alternately sang
and shouted, '* Cain was a murderer, Cain was
a murderer;" and howled like a wolf, making
night hideous. His opposite neighbor had an
audience, and every now and then delivered, in
a high nasal key, "Let us curse and pray;"
varying it sometimes thus: "Brethren, let us
work double tides." And then he would de-
liver a long fervent prayer, and follow it up im-
mediately with a torrent of blasphemies so ter-
rific that, coming in such a contrast, they made
Alfred's body wet with perspiration to hear a
poor creature so defy his Creator. No rest, no
peace. When it was still the place was like the
grave ; and ever and anon, loud, sharp, tremen-
dous, burst a thunder-clap of curses, and set
those poor demented creatures all yelling again
for half an hour, making the tombs ring. And
lit clock-like intervals a harmless but dirty idiot,
who was allowed to roam the ward, came and
chanted through the keyhole, "Eveiy tiling is
nothing, and nothing is every thing."
This was the only observation he had made
for many years.
His ears assailed with horrors, of which you
have literally no conception, or shadow of a
conception, his nose poisoned with ammoniacal
vapors, and the peculiar wild-beast smell that
marks the true maniac, Alfred ran wildly about
his cell trying to stop his ears, and trembling for
his own reason. When the fearful night rolled
away, and morning broke, and he could stand
on his truckle-bed and see God's hoar-frost on a
square yard of grass level with his prison bars,
it refreshed his.veiy soul, and affected him al-
most to tears. He was then, to his surprise,
taken out, and allowed to have a warm bath
and to breakfast with David and the rest ; but I
suspect it was done to watch the effect of the
trial he had been submitted to. After breakfast,
having now no place to go, he lay on a bench,
and there exhausted nature overpowered him,
and he fell fast asleep.
Mrs. Archbold came by on purpose, and saw
him. He looked very pale and peaceful. There
was a cut on his forehead due to Rooke's knuck-
les. Mrs. Archbold looked down, and the young
figure and haughty face seemed so unresisting
and peaceful sad, she half relented. That did
not, however, prevent her setting her female
spies to watch him more closely than ever.
He awoke cold but refreshed, and found little
Beverley standing by him with wet eyes. Alfred
smiled, and held out his hand like a captive mon-
arch to his faithful vassal. "They sha'n't put
you in the noisy ward again," sobbed Frank.
"This is your last night here."
"Hy, Frank, you rascal, my boots!" roared
Rooke from an open window.
"Coming, Sir coming!"
Alfred's next visitor was the Robin. He came
whispering, "It is all right with Garrett, Sir,
and he has got a key of the back gate : but you
must get back to your old room, or we can't
work."
"Would to Heaven I could, Robin; another
night or two in the noisy ward will drive me
mad, I think."
"Well, Sir, I'll tell you what you do: which
we all have to do it at odd times : hold a candle
to the devil: here she comes: I think sh^ is
every where all at one time." The Robin then
sauntered away, affecting nonchalance : and Al-
fred proceeded to hold the candle as directed.
"Mrs. Archbold," said he, timidly, rising frorti
his seat at her approach.
"Sir," said she, haughtily, and affecting sur-
prise.
" I have a favor to ask you, madam. Would
you be so kind as to let me go back to my
room?"
"What, you have found I am not so power-
less as you thought."
" I find myself so weak, and you so powerful,
that ^you can afford to be generous."
"I have no more power over you than you
have over me."
"I wish it was so."
" I'll prove it," said she. "Who has got the
key of your room? Hayes?" She whistled, and
sent for him ; and gave him the requisite order
before Alfred. Alfred thanked her warmly.
She smiled, and went away disposed to change
her tactics, and, having shown him how she
VERY HARD CASH.
conld torment, tiy soothing means, and open his
heart by gratitude.
But presently looking out of her window she
saw the Robin and him together; and somehow
they seemed to her subtle, observant eyes to be
plotting. The very suspicion was fatal to that
officer. His discharge was determined on.
Meantime she set her spies to watch him, and
tell her if they saw or heard any thing.
Now Mrs. Archbold was going out to tea that
evening, and, as soon as ever this transpired,
the keepers secretly invited the keeperesses to a
party in the first-class patients' drawing-room.
This was a rare opportunity, and the Robin and
Garrett put their heads together accordingly.
In the dusk of the evening the Robin took an
opportunity and slipped a new key of the back
gate into Alfred's hand, and told him the trick
was to be done that very night : he was to get
Thompson to go to bed early : and, instead of
taking off his clothes, was to wait in readiness.
"We have been plying Hayes already," said the
Robin, " and, as soon as she is off, we shall ho-
cus him, and get the key ; and while they are
all larking in the drawing-room, off you go to
Merrimashee."
"Oh, you dear Robin ! You have taken my
breath away. But how about Vulcan ?"
'* Oh, we know how to make him amiable : a
dog-fancier, a friend of mine, has provided the
ondeniable where dogs is concerned, which it is
the liver of a bitch killed at heat if you must
know ; whereby Garrett draws the varmint into
the scullery, and shuts him in, while I get the
key from the other. It's all right."
**Ah, Robin," said Alfred, "it sounds too
good to be true. What ? this my last day here !"
The minutes seemed ta creep very slowly till
eight o'clock came. Then he easily persuaded
David to go^ to bed ; Hayes went up and un-
locked the door for them : it closed with a catch-
lock. Hayes wa& drunk, but full of discipline,
and insisted on the patients putting out their
clothes; so Alfred made up a bundle for his
portmanteau, and threw it out. Hayes eyed it
suspiciously, but was afraid to stoop and inspect
it closer ; for his drunken instinct told him he
would pitch on his head that moment : so he re-
tired grumbling and dangling his key.
At the end of the corridor he met Mrs. Arch-
bold full dressed, and with a candle in her hand.
She held the candle up and inspected him ; and
a little conversation followed that sobered Mr.
Hayes for a minute or two.
Mrs. Archbold was no sooner gone to her lit-
tle tea-party than all the first-class ladies and
gentlemen were sent to bed to get a good sleep
for the good of their health, and the keepers and
keeperesses took their place and romped, and
jl made such a row sleep was not easy within hear-
ing of them. They sat on the piano, they sang
songs to a drum accompaniment played on the
table, they danced, drank, flirted, and enjoyed
themselves like school-boys. Hayes alone was
gloomy and morose : so the Robin and Garrett
consoled him, drank with him, and soothed him
with the balm of insensibility : in which condi-
tion they removed him under charitable pre-
tenses, and searched his pockets in the passage
for the key of Alfred's room.
To their infinite surprise and disappointment
It was not upon bim*
The fact is, Mrs. Archbold had snatched it
from him in her wrath, and put it in her own
pocket. How far her suspicions went, how much
her spies had discovered, I really don't know;
but somehow or other she was uneasy in her
mind, and, seeing Hayes in such a fttate, she
would not trust him during her absence, but
took the key away with her.
The Robin and Garrett knew nothing of this,
and were all abroad; but they thought Rooke
must have the key ; so they proceeded to drink
with him, and were just about to administer a
really effective soporific in his grog, when they
and all the merry party were suddenly startled
by violent ringing at the bell, and thundering
and hallooing at the hall door. The men jumped
to their feet and balanced themselves, and looked
half wild, half stupid. The women sat, and be-
gan to scream : for they had heard a word that
has terrors for us all ; peculiar terrors for them.
This alarm was due to a personage hitherto
undervalued in the establishment.
Mr. Francis Beverley had been thinking. So
now, finding all the patients boxed up, and their
attendants romping in the drawing-room, he
lighted seven fires, skillfully on the whole, for
practice makes perfect; but, singular oversight,
he omitted one essential ingredient in a fire, and
that was the grate.
To be plain, Mr. Francis made seven bonfires
of bed-curtains, chairs, and other 'combustibles
in the servants' garrets, lighted them contempo-
raneously, and retired to the basement, convinced
he had taken the surest means to deliver his friend
out of Drayton House ; and with a certain want
of candor that characterizes the weak, proceeded
to black his other bad masters' shoes with sin-
gular assiduity.
There was no wind to blow the flame ; .but it
was a clear frost ; and soon fiery tongues shot
out of three garret-windows into the night, and
lurid gleams burnished four more, and the old
house was burning merrily overhead, and ring-
ing with hilarity on the first floor.
But the neighbors saw, pointed, wondered,
comprehended, shouted, rang, knocked, and
surged round the iron gate. " Fire ! fire ! fire I"
and **Fire!" went down the road, and men on
horseback galloped for engines ; and the terror-
stricken porter opened and the people rushed in
and hammered at the hall doors, and, when
Rooke ran down and opened, "Fire!" was the
word that met him from a score of eager throats
and glittering eyes.
"Fire ! Where ?" he cried.
" Where ! Why, you are on fire. Blazing !"
Ho ran out and looked up at the tongues of
flame and volleys of smoke. " Shut the gate!"
he roared. " Call the police. Fire! fire!" And
he dashed back, and calling to the other keepc -^
to unlock all the doors they had keys of, ran i.^.
to the garrets to see what could be done. He
came out awe-stricken at what he saw. He de-
scended hastily to the third floor. Now the third
floor of that wing was occupied principally by
servants. In fact, the only patients at that time
were Dodd and Alfred. Rooke called to the
men below to send Hayes up to No. 75 with his
key directly: he then ran down to the next
floor ; of which he had keys ; and opened all
the doors, and said to the inmates wkh a ghast-
ly attempt at cheerfulness, belied by his shaking
VLRY HARD CASH.
Toioe, ''ret np, gentlemen ; there is a ball and
supper goini; on below." He was afraid to utter
the word *'fire" to them. The other keepers
were as rapid, each on his beat, and soon the
more rational patients took the alarm and were
persuaded or driven out half dressed into the
yard, where they cowered together in extremity
uf fear ; for the fire began to roar overhead like
a lion, and lighted up the whole interior red and
bright. All was screaming and confusion ; and
then came a struggle to get the incurable out
from the basement story. There was no time
to handcuff them. The keepers trusted to the
terror of the scene to cow them, and so opened
the doors and got them out anyhow. Wild,
weird forms, with glaring eyes and matted hair,
leaped out and ran into the hall, and laughed,
and danced, and cursed in the lurid reflection
of the fires above. Hell seemed discharging
demons. Men recoiled from them. And well
they did; for now the skylight exploded, and
the pieces fell tinkling on the marble hall fast
as hail. The crowd recoiled and ran ; but those
awful figures continued their gambols. One pick-
ed up the burning glass and ground it in his
hands that bled directly: but he felt neither
bum nor cut. The keepers rushed in to with-
draw them from so dangerous a place : all but
one obeyed with sudden tameness: that one
struggled and yelled like a demon. In the midst
of which fearful contest came a sudden thunder-
ing at a door on the third floor.
" Christ ! What is that ?" cried Rooke.
*It is Mr. Hardie," screamed the Robin.
"You have left him locked in."
*' I told Hayes to let him out long ago.''
** But Hayes hasn't got the key. You've got
it"
" No, no. I tell you Hayes has got it."
" No, no I Murder ! murder ! They are dead
men. Run for Mrs. Archbold, somebody. Run 1
Here, hammers, hammers ! for God's sake come
and help me break the door. Oh, Rooke,
Rooke!"
*' As I'm a man Hayes has got the key," cried
Rooke, stamping on the ground, and white with
terror.
By this time Garrett had got a hammer, and
he and Wales rushed wildly up the stairs to
batter in the strong door if they could. They
got to the third floor, but with difficulty; the
smoke began to blind them and choke them, and
fiery showers fell on them, and drove them back,
smarting and choking. Garrett sank down gasp-
ing at the stair-foot. Wales ran into the yard
uttering pitiful cries, and pointing wildly up-
ward : but before he got there a hand had broken
through the glass of a window up in the third
floor, the poor white hand of a perishing pris-
oner, and clutched the frame-work and tore at it.
At this hand a thousand white faces were now
upturned amidst groans of pity and terror such
as only multitudes can utter. Suddenly these
anxious faces and glistening eyes turned like
one, for an attempt, wild and unintelligible, but
still an attempt, was about to be made to save
that hand and its owner out of the very jaws of
death.
Now among the spectators was one whose life
and reason were at stake on that attempt,
Mrs. Dodd was harrying homeward from this
very neighborhood when the fire broke out.
Her son Edward was coming at nine o'clock to
tea, and, better still, to sleep. He was leaving
the fire brigade. It had disappointed him ; he
found the fire-escape men saved /the lives, the
firemen only the property. He had gone into
the business earnestly too; he had invented a
thing like a treble pouch hook, which could be
fastened in a moment to the end of a'' rope, and
thrown into the window, and would cling to the
bare wall, if there was nothing better, and ena-
ble him to go up and bring life down. But he
had never got a chance to try it ; and, per con-
tra, he was on the engine when they went tear-
ing over a woman and broke herarmahd collar-
bone in the Blackfriars'-road : and also when
they went tearing over their own fire-dog and
crippled him. All this seemed out of character,
and shocked Edward : and then his mother could
not get over the jacket.
In a quarter of an hour he was to take ofl^ the
obnoxious jacket forever, and was now lounging
at the station smoking a short pipe, when a man
galloped up crying " Fire I"
"AH right 1" said Edward, giving a whiff.
"Where?"
* * Lunatic Asylum. Drayton House."
Guess how long before the horses were to, and
the engine tearing at a gallop down the road,
and the firemen shouting "Fire I fire !" to clear
the way, and Edward's voice the loudest.
When the report of fire swept townward past
Mrs. Dodd, she turned : and saw the glow.
"Oh dear," said she, "that must be some-
where near Drayton House." And full of the
tender fears that fill such bosoms as hers for
those they love, she could not go home till she
had ascertained that it was not Drayton House.
Moreover, Edward's was the nearest station;
she had little hope now of seeing him to tea.
She sighed, and retraced her steps, and made
timid inquiries, but could gain no clear informa-
tion. Presently she heard galloping behind her,
and the firemen's wild sharp cry of fire. An
engine drawn by two powerful brown horses
came furiously, all on fire itself with red paint
and polished steel gleaming in the lights: hel-
meted men clustered on it, and out of one of
these helmets looked a face like a fighting lion's,
the eyes so dilated, the countenance in such tow-
ering excitement, the figure half rising from his
seat, as though galloping was too slow and he
wanted to fly. It was Edward: mother and
son caught sight of one another as the engine
thundered by, and he gave her a solemn ardent .
look and pointed toward the fire : by that burn-
ing look and eloquent gesture she knew it was
something more than a common fire. She trem-
bled, and could not move. But this temporary
weakness was followed by an influx of wild vig-
or ; she forgot her forty-two years, and flew to
hover round the fire as the hen round water.
Unfortunately she was too late to get any nearer
than the road outside the gates, the crowd was
so dense. And, while her pale face and anxious
eyes, the eyes of a wife and a mother, were bent
on that awful fire, the human tide fiowed swiftly
up behind her, and there she was wedged in.
She was allowed her foot of ground to stand and
look like the rest no more. Mere unit in that
mass of panting humanity, hers was one of the
thousands of upturned faces lurid in the li^ht q
210
VERY HARD CASH.
the now blazing roof. She saw with thousands
the hand bi*eak the window and clutch the frame :
she gasped with the crowd at that terrible and
piteoas sight, and her bosom panted for her fel-
low-creatare in sore peril. Bat what is this?
The mob inside utter a great roar of hope ; the
crowd outside strain every eye.
A gleaming helmet overtops the outer wall.
It is a fireman mounting the great elm-tree in
the mad-house yard. The crowd inside burst in
a cheer. He had & rope round his loins ; his
face was to the tree. He motmted and mounted
like a cat ; higher, and higher, and higher, till
he reached a branch about twelve feet above the
window and as many distant from it laterally :
the crowd cheered him lustily. But Mrs. Dodd,
half distracted with terror, implored them not
to encourage him. '^ It is my child !" she ciied,
despairingly; **my poor reckless darling! Come
down, Edward; for your poor mother's sake,
come down."
" Dear heart," said a woman, "it is the lady*8
son. Poor thing !*'
"Stand on my knee, ma'am," said a coal-
heaver.
" Oh no, Sir, no. I could not look at him for
the world. I can only pray for him. Oh, good
people, pray for us !" And she covered her face,
and prayed and trembled and sobbed hysteric-
ally. A few yards beliind was another woman,
who had arrived later, yet like her was wedged
immovable. This woman was more terror-
stricken than Mrs. Dodd : and well she might ;
for she knew who was behind that fatal window :
the woman's name was Edith Archbold. The
flames were now leaping through the roof, and
surging up toward heaven in waves of fire six
feet high. Edward, scorched and half-blinded,
managed to fasten his rope to the bough, and,
calculating the distances vertical and lateral he
had to deal with, took up rope accordingly, and
launched himself into the air.
The crowd drew their breath so hard it sound-
ed like a murmur. To their horror he missed
the window, and went swinging back.
There was a cry of dismay. But Edward had
never hoped to leap into the window ; he went
swinging by the rope back to the main stem of
the tree, gave it a fierce spang with his feet, and
by this means and a powerful gesture of his her-
culean loins got an inch nearer the window;
back again, and then the same game ; and so he
went swinging to and fro over a wider and wider
space ; and, by letting out an inch of cord each
swing, his flying feet came above the window-
ledge, then a little higher, then higher still, and
now, oh sight strange and glorious as this hel-
meted hero, with lips clenched and great eyes
that stared unflinching at the surging flames,
and gleamed supematurally with inward and
outward fire, swang to and fro on his frail sup-
port still making for the window the heads of
all the hoping, fearing, admiring, panting crowd
went surging and waving to and fro beneath ; so
did not their hearts only but their agitated bod-
ies follow the course of his body, as it rushed to
and fro faster and faster through the hot air
starred with snow-flakes and hail of fire. And
those his fellow-men for whom the brave fireman
made this supernatural eiFort, did they know
their desperate condition ? Were they still alive ?
One Utile hour ago Alfred sat on the bed, full
of hope. Every minute he expected to hear the
Robin put a key into the door. He was all
ready, and his money in his pocket. Alas ! his
liberator came not: some screw loose again.
Presently he was conscious of a great commotion
in the house. Feet ran up and down. Then
came a smell of burning. The elm-tree outside
was illuminated. He was glad at first ^ he had
a spite against the place. But soon he became
alarmed, and hammered at the door and tried
to force it. Impossible. "Fire" rang from
men's voices. Fire crackled above his head.
He ran about the room like a wild creature. He
sprang up at the window and dashed his hand
through, but fell back. He sprang again and
got his hand on some of the lighter wood- work ;
he drew himself up nearly to the window, and
then the wood gave way and he fell to the ground,
and, striking the back of his head, nearly stunned
himself; the flames roared fearfully now ; and
at this DaWd, who had hitherto*sat unconcerned,
started up, and in a stentorian voice issued order
upon order to furl every rag of sail and bring the
ship to the wind. He thought it was a tempest.
"Oh hush! hush!" cried Alfred, in vain. A
beam fell from the roof to the floor, precursor of
the rest. On this David thought the ship was
ashore, and shouted a fresh set of orders proper
to the occasion, so terribly alike are the angry
voices of the sister-elements. But Alfred im-
plored him, and got him to kneel down with
him, and held his hand, and prayed.
And, even while they kneeled and Alfred
prayed, Death and Life met and fought for them.
Under the door, tight as it was, and through the
keyhole struggled a hot stifling smoke, mercifal
destroyer running before fire : and the shadow
of a gigantic figure began to flicker in from the
outside, and to come and go upon the wall.
Alfred did not know what that was, but it gave
him a vague hope : he prayed aloud as men pray
only for their bodies. (The crowd heard him and
hushed itself breathless.)
The smoke penetrated faster, blinding and
stifling ; the giant shadow came and went. But
now the greater part of the roof fell in with an
awful report; the blazing timbers thundered
down to the basement with endless clatter of
red-hot tiles ; the wal^ quivered, and the build-
ing belched skyward a thousand jets of fire like a
bouquet of rockets ; and then a cloud of smoke.
Alfred gave up all hope, and prepared to die.
Crash ! as if discharged from a cannon, came
burating through the window with the roar of an
applauding multitude and a mother's unheeded
scream, a helmeted figure rope in hand, and
alighted erect and commanding on the floor
amidst a shower of splinters and tinkling glass.
" Up men for your lives ! " roared this fire wairior,
clutching them hard, and dragged them both up
to their feet by one prodigious gesture : all three
faces came together and shone in the lurid light ;
and he knew his father and "the wretch," and
the wretch knew him. " Oh 1 " " Ah !" passed
like pistol shots; but not a word: even this
strange meeting went for little, so awful was the
moment, so great are Death and Fire. Edward
clawed his rope to the bed ; up to the window
by it, dropped his line to fireman Jackson plant-
ed express below, and in another moment was
bawling up a rope-ladder : this he attached, and
getting on it and holding his own rope by way
VEEY HARD CASH.
211
of baluster, cried, "Now men, quick, for your
lives." ut poor David called that deserting
the ship, and demurred, till Alfred assured him
the captain had ordered it. He then submitted
directly, touched his forelock to Edward, whom
he took for that officer, and went down the lad-
der ; Alfred followed.
Now the moment those two figures emerged
from the burning pile, Mrs. Dodd, already half
dead with terror for her son, saw and knew her
husband : for all about him it was as light as day.
What terror ! what joy ! what gratitude ! what
pride ! what a tempest of emotions !
But her fears were not ended; Edward, not
to overweight the ladder, went dangling by his
hands along the rope toward the tree. And his
mother's eyes stared fearfully from him to the
other, and her heart hung trembling on her hus-
band descending cautiously, and then on his pre-
server, her son, who was dangling along by the
hands on that frail support. The mob cheered
him royally, but she screamed and hid her face
again. At last both her darlings were safe, and
then the lusty cheers made her thrill with pride
and joy, till all of a sudden they seemed to die
away and the terrible fire to go out; and the
sore-tried wife and mother drooped her head,
and swooned away, wedged in and kept from
falling by the crowd.
Inside, the mob parted and made two rushes,
one at the rescued men, one at the gallant fire-
man. Alfred and David were overpowered with
curiosity and sympathy. They had to shake a
hundred honest hands ; and others still pressing
on, hurried them nearly off their feet.
"Gently, good friends, don't part us,'* said
Alfred.
** He is the keeper," said one of the crowd.
" Yes, I'm his keeper ; and I want to get him
quietly away. This excitement will do him harm
else ; good friends, help me out by that door."
"All right," was the cry, and they rushed
with him to the back door. Kooke, who was
about twenty yards off, saw and suspected this
movement. He fought his way, and struggled
after Alfred in silence. Presently, to his sur-
prise, Alfred opened the gate and whipped out
with David, leaving the door open. Rooke shout-
ed and hallooed: "Stop him! he is escaping!"
and struggled madly to th*e door : now another
crowd had been waiting in the meadows ; seeing
the door opened they rushed in, and the doorway
was jammed directly. In the confusion Alfred
drew David along the side of the wall ; told him
to stay quiet, bolted behind an outhouse, and
then rail across country for the bare life.
To his horror David followed him, and with a
madman's agility soon caught him.
He snorted like a spirited horse, and shouted
cheerily: "Gro ahead, mess-mate; I smell blue
water."
" Come on then," cried Alfred, half mad him-
self with excitement, and the pair ran furiously,
and dashed through hedges and ditches, torn,
bleeding, splashed, triumphant ; behind them the
burning mad -house, above them the spangled
sky, the fresh free air of liberty blowing in their
nostrils, and rushing past their ears.
Alfred's chest expanded, he laughed for joy,
he sang for joy, he leaped as he went; nor did
he care where he went. David took the com-
mand, and kept snuffing the air, and shaping his
course for blue water. And so they rushed along
the livelong night. "
Free.
CHAPTER XLVn.
A BEPORT came round that, the asylum was
open in the rear. A rush was made thither
from the front ; and this thinned the crowd con-
siderably ; so then Mrs. Dodd was got out by
the help of some humane persons, and carried
into the nearest house, more dead than alive.
There she found Mrs. Archbold in a pitiable
state. That lady had been looking on the fire,
with the key in her pocket, by taking which she
was like to be a murderess : her terror and re-
morse were distractii^g, and the revulsion had
thrown her into violent hysterics. Mrs. Dodd
plucked up a little strength, and characteiistic-
ally enough tottered to her assistance, and called
for the best remedies, and then took her hand
and pressed it, and whispered soothingly that
both were now safe, meaning David and Ed-
ward. Mrs. Archbold thought she meant Al-
fred and David : this new ^hock was as good
for her as cold water : she became quieter, and
presently gulped out, "You saw them? you knew
them (ump) all that way off?"
"Knew them?" said Mrs. Dodd; "why one
was my husband, and the other my son." Mrs.
Archbold gave a sigh of relief. "Yes, madam,"
continued Mrs. Dodd, " the young fireman, who
went and saved my husband, was my own son,
my Edward, my hero ; oh, I am a happy wife,
a proud mother:" she could say no more for
tears of joy, and while she wept deliciously, Mrs.
Archbold cried too, and so invigorated and re-
freshed her cunning, and presently she perked
up and told Mrs. Dodd boldly that Edward had
been seeking her, and was gone home : she had
better follow him, or he would be anxious.
"But my poor husband!" objected Mi-s. Dodd.
"He is safe," said the other; "I saw him
(ump) with an attendant."
" Ah," said Mrs. Dodd, with meaning, **that
other my son rescued was an attendant, was he ?"
"Yes." (Ump.)
She then promised to take David under her
especial care, and Mrs. Dodd consented, though
reluctantly, to go home.
To her sui*prise Edward had not yet arrived,
and Julia was sitting up, very anxious ; and flew
at her with a gurgle, and kissed her eagerly, and
then, drawing back her head, searched the ma-
ternal eyes for what was the matter. " Ah, you
may well look," said Mrs. Dodd. "Oh my
child! what a night this has been;" and she
sank into a chair, and held up her arms ; Julia
settled down in them directly, and in that posi-
tion Mrs. Dodd told all the night's work, told it
under a running accompaniment of sighs, and
kisses, and ejaculations, and "dear mammas,"
and "poor mammas," and bursts of sympathy,
astonishment, pity, and wonder. Thus embel-
lished and interrupted, the strange tale was hard-
ly ended when a manly step came up the stairs,
and both ladies pinched each other and were still
as mice, and in walked a firemanjwith a wet liv-
ery, and a face smirched with
at him with a gurgle of the first I
her arms round his neck, and
212
VERY HARD CASH.
blackened cbeeks again and again, crying, *'0h
my own, my precious, my sweet, brave darling,
kiss me, kiss me, kiss me, you are a hero, a Chris-
tian hero, that saves life, not takes it " Mrs.
Dodd checked her impetuous career by asking
piteously if his mother was not to have him.
On this, Julia drew him along by the hand, and
sank with him at Mrs. Dodd's knees, and she
held him at arms-length and gazed at him, and
then drew him close and enfolded him, and
thanked God for him; and then they both em-
braced him at once, and interwove him Heaven
knows how, and poured the wealth of their wo-
manly hearts out on him in a torrent, and near-
ly made him snivel. But presently something
in his face struck Mrs. Dodd, accustomed to
read her children. **Is there any thing the
matter, love?" she inquired, anxiously. He
looked down and said, '* I am dead sleepy, mam-
ma, for one thing."
"Of course he is, poor child," said Julia, do-
ing the sub-maternal; "wait till I see every
thing is comfortable," and she flew off, turned
suddenly at the door with "Oh, you darling!"
and up to his bedroom, and put more coals on
bis fire, and took ajiousewifely look all round.
Mrs. Dodd seized the opportunity. "Ed-
ward, there is something amiss.**
"And no mistake,*' said he, dryly. "But I
thought if I told you before her you might scold
me."
"Scold you, love? Never. Hush I I'll
come to your room by-and-by."
Soon after this they all bade each other good-
night; and presently Mrs. Dodd came and tapped
softly at her son's door, and found him with his
vest and coat off and his helmet standing on the
table reflecting a red coal ; he was seated by the
fire in a brown study, smoking. He apologized,
and offered to throw the weed away. " No, no, '*
said she, suppressing a cough, "not if it does
you good."
" Well, mother, when you are in a fix smoke
is a soother, you know ; and I'm in a regular
fix."
" A fix I" sighed Mrs. Dodd, resignedly : and
waited patiently, all ears.
"Mamma," said the fire-warrior, becoming
speculative under the dreamy influence of the
weed, "I wonder whether such a muddle ever
was before. When a man is fighting with fire,
what with the heat* and what with the excite-
ment, his pulse is at a hundred and sixty, and
his brain all in a whirl, and he scarce knows
what he is doing till after it is done. But I've
been thinking of it all since. (Puff.) There was
my poor little mamma in the mob; I double
myself up for my spring, and I go at the win-
dow, and through it ; now on this side of it I
hear my mother cry, * Edward I come down ;' on
the other side I faU on two men perishing in an
oven : one is my own father, and the other is
who do you think? * the Wretch.' "
Mrs. Dodd held up her hands in mute amaze-
ment.
** I had promised to break every bone in his
skin at our first meeting ; and I kept my prom-
ise by saving his skin and bones, and life and
alL" (Puff.)
Mrs . Dodd groaned aloud. * * I half suspected
it," she said, fiuntly. "That tall figure, that
haughty grace I But no; you are mistaken;
Mrs. Archbold told me positively he was an at-
tendant."
** Then she told you a cracker. It \^as not an
attendant, but a madman, and that madman was
Alfred Hardie, upon my soul I Our Julia's miss-
ing bridegroom."
He sn^oked on in profound silence, waiting for
her to speak. But she lay back in her chair
mute and all relaxed, as if the news had knock-
ed her down.
"Come, now," said Edward, at last; "what
is to be done? May I tell Julia? that is the
question."
"Not for the world," said Mrs. Dodd, shocked
into energy. " Would you blight her young life
forever as mine is blighted ?" She then assured
him that, if Alfred's sad state came to Julia's
ears, all her love for him would revive, and she
would break with Mr. Hurd, and indeed never
marry all her life. " I see no end to her mis-
ery," continued Mrs. Dodd, with a deep sigh;
" for she is full of courage ; she would not shrink
from a mad-house (why she visits lazar-houses
every day) ; she would be always going to see
her Alfred, and so nurse her pity and her un-
happy love. No, no ; let me be a widow with a
living husband, if it is Ood's will : I have had
my happy days. But my child she* shall not be
so withered in the flower of her days for any man
that ever breathed: she shall not, I say." The
mother could utter no more for emotion.
"Well," said Edward, "you know best. I
generally make a mess of it when I disobey you.
But concealments are bad things too. We used
to go with our bosoms open. Ah !" (Puff.)
"Edward," said Mrs. Dodd, after some con-
sideration, "the best thing is to marry her to
Mr. Hurd at once. He has spoken to me for
her, and I sounded her.'*
" Has he ? Well, and what did she say ?**
" She said she would rather not marry at all,
but live and die with me. Then I pressed her a
little, you know. Then she did say she could
never marry any but a clergyman, now she had
lost her poor Alfred. And then I told her I
thought Mr. Hurd could make her happy, and
she would make me happy if she could esteem
him, and marry him.'*
"Well, manmia, and what then?"
" Why then my poor child gave me a look that
haunts me still a look of unutterable love, and
reproach, and resignation, and despair, and burst
out crying so piteously I could say no more.
OhI ohi oh! oh!"
" Don't you ciy, mammy dear," said Edward.
" Ah, I remember when a tear was a wonder in
our house." And the fire-warrior sucked at his
cigat to stop a sigh.
"And n-now n-not a d-day without them,"
Bighed Mrs. Dodd. "But yu have cost me
none, my precious boy."
" I'm waiting my time. (Puff.) Mamma, take
my advice; don't you fidget so. Let things
alone. Why hurry her into marrying Mr. Hurd
or any body? Look here; I'll keep dark to
please you, if you'll keep quiet to please me.**
At breakfast-time came a messenger with a
line from Mrs. Archbold, to say that David had
escaped from Drayton House, in company ^ith
another dangerous maniac.
Mrs. Dodd received the blow with a kind of
VERY HARD CASH.
213
desperate resignation. She rose qnietly from the
^able without a word, and went to put on her
bonnet, leaving her breakfast and the note ; for
she did not at once see all that was implied in
the cofnmanication. She took Edward with her
to Drayton House. The firemen have saved one
half of that building : the rest was a black shell.
Mrs. Archbold came to them, looking haggard,
and told them two keepers were already scouring
the country, and an advertisement sent to all the
journals.
" Oh, madam !" said Mrs. Dodd, ** if the other
should hurt him, or lead him somewhere to his
death ?'
Mrs. Archbold said she might dismiss this fear ;
the patient in question had but one illusion, and,
though terribly dangerous when thwarted in that,
was most intelligent in a general way, and much
attached to Mr. Dodd; they were always to-
gether.
A strange expression shot into Mrs. Dodd's
eye: she pinched Edward's arm to keep him
quiet, and said, with feigned indifference :
** Then it was the one who was in such danger
with my husband last night ?"
"Yes,'* said Mrs. Archbold, off her guard.
It had not occurred to her that this handsome,
fashionably-dressed young gentleman was the
fireman of last night. She saw hdr mistake,
though, the moment he said, bluntly, " Why you
told my mother it was an attendant."
"Did I, madam?" asked Mrs. Archbold,
mighty innocently: "I suppose I thought so.
Well,*! was mistaken, unfortunately."
Mrs. Dodd was silent a moment, then, some-
what hastily, bade Mrs. Archbold good-by. She
told the cabman to drive to an old acquaintance
of ours, Mr. Green. He had set up detective on
his own account. He was not at his office, but
expected. She sat patiently down till he came
in. They put their heads together, and Green
dashed down to the asylum with a myrmidon,
while Mrs. Dodd went into the City to obtain
leave of absence from Cross and Co. This was
politely declined at first, but on Mrs. Dodd show-
ing symptoms of leaving them altogether, it was
conceded. She returned home with Edward,
and there was Mr. Green ; he had actually traced
tlie fugitives by broken fences, and occasional
footsteps in the side-clay of ditches, so far as to
leave no doubt they had got upon the great
southeastern road. Then Mrs. Dodd had a fe-
male inspiration. " The Dover road 1 ah I my
husband will make for the sea !"
"I shouldn't wonder, being a sailor," said
Green : " it is a pleasure to work with a lady
like you, that puts in a good hint. Know any
thing about the other one, ma'am ?"
Mrs. Dodd almost started at this off-hand
question. But it was a natural one for Green
to ask.
She said, gravely, ** I do. To my cost."
Green's eye sparkled, and he took out his
note-book. "Now where is h^ like to make
for?"
Mrs. Dodd seemed to wince at the question,
and then turn her eyes inward to divine. The
result was she gave a downright shudder, and
said, evasively, "Being with David, I hope and
pray he will go toward the coast."
" No, no," said Green, "it won't do to count
on that altogether. How do we know which of
the two will lead the other? Yoxl must please
to put Mr. Dodd out of the question, ma'am, for
a moment. Now we'll say No. 2 is escaped
alone : where is he like to run to ?"
Mrs. Dodd thus pressed, turned her eyes more
and more, inward, and taid at last in a very low
voice, and with a sort of concentrated horror,
'"' He will come to my house.**
Mr. Green booked this eagerly. The lady's
emotion was nothing to him ; the hint was in-
valuable, the combination interesting. "Well,
ma'am," said he, '* I'll plant a good man in sight
of your door : and I'll take the Dover road di-
rectly with my drag. My teeth weren't strong
enough for the last nut you gave me to crack :
let us try this one. Tom Green isn't often l)eat
twice running."
" I will go w!th you, Mr. Green."
"Honored and proud, ma'am. But a lady
l^ke you in my dog-cart along o' me and my
mate !"
Mrs. Dodd waived this objection almost con-
temptuously ; she was all wife now.
It was agreed th^ Green should drive round
for her in an hour. He departed for the present,
and Edward proposed to go^n the dog-cart too,
but she told him no ; she wanted him at home
to guard his sister.
* * Guard her ? Against what ?"
"Can you ask me that? Why, against *the
Wretch.*" Then seeing him look puzzled,
"Consider, Edward,** said she, "he is not like
your poor father : he has not forgotten. That
advertisement, Aileen Aroon, it was from him,
you know. And then why does he attach him-
self so to poor papa? Don*t you see it is be-
cause he is Julia's father. The wretch loves her
still."
Edward from puzzled looked very grave.
''What a head you have got, mamma!" he
said. "I should never have seen all this, yet
it's plain enough now, as you put it."
" Yes, it is plain. Our darling is betrothed to
a maniac ; that maniac loves her ; and much I
fear she lovep him. Soine new calamity is im-
pending. Oh, my son, I feel it already heavy
on my heart. What is it to be ? Is your father
to be led to destruction, or will that furious
wretch burst in upon your sister and kill her,
or perhaps kill Mr. Hurdj if he catches them
together. What may not happen now? Th
very air seems to me swarming with calami-
ties."
" Oh I'll take care of all that," said Edward.
And he comforted her a little by promising faith-
fully not to let Julia go out of his sight till her
return.
She put on a plain traveling-dress. The dog-
cart came. She slipped fifty sovereigns into
Mr. Green's hands for expenses, and off they
went at a slapping pace. The horse was a great
bony hunter of rare speed and endurance, and
his long stride and powerful action raised poor
Mrs. Dodd's hopes, and the rushing air did her
^ood. Green, to her surprise, made few in-
quiries for some miles on the Dover road ; but
he explained to her that the parties they were
after had probably walked all night. "They
don't tire, that sort,'* said Mr. Green.
At Dartford they got a doubtful intimation,
on the strength of which he rattled on to Roch-
ester. There he pulled np, deposited Mrs. Dodd
214
VERY HARD CASH.
at the principal inn till morning, and scoured
the town for intelligence.
He inquired of all the policemen ; described
his men, and shrewdly added out of his intelli-
gence, "Both splashed and dirty."
No, the Bobbies had sot seen them.
. Then he walked out to the side of the town
nearest London, and examined all the dealers in
food. At last he found a baker who, early that
morning, had sold a quartern loaf to two tall
men without hats, " and splashed fearful ;" he
added, " I thought they had broken prison; but
'twas no business of mine: they paid for the
bread right enough."
On hearing they had entered Rochester hat-
less, the shrewd Mr. Green made direct to the
very nearest slop-shop, and his sagacily was re-
warded ; the shop-keeper was a Matter-box, and
told him yes, two gents out on a frolic had
bought a couple of hats of him, and a whole set
of sailor's clothes. " I think they were respecta-
ble, too ; but nothing else would satisfy him.
So the young one he humored him, and bought
them. I took his old ones in exchange."
At that Green offered a sovereign for the old
clothes blindfold. The trader instantly asked
two pounds, and took thirty shillings.
Green now set the police to scour the town for
a gentleman and a common sailor in company,
ofiered a handsome reward, and went to bed in
a small inn, with David's clothes by the kitchen
fire. Early in the morning he went to Mrs.
Dodd's hotel with David's clothes nicely dried,
and told her his tale. She knew the clothes di-
rectly, kissed them, and cried over them : then
gave him her hand with a world of dignity and
grace : ** What an able man I Sir, you iospke
me with great confidence." ^^*'
"And you me with zeal, ma'am,** said the
delighted Green. "Why I'd go through fire
and water for a lady like you, that pays well,
and doesn't grudge a fellow a bit of praise.
Now you must eat a J)it^ ma'am, if it's ever so
little, and then we'll take the road ; for the po-
lice think the parties have left the town, and by
their night's work they must be good travelers.'*
The dog-cart took the road, and the ex-hunter
stepped out thirteen miles an hour.
Now at this moment Alfred and David were
bowling along ahead with a perfect sense of se-
curity. All that first night, the grandest of his
life, Alfred walked on air, and drank the glori-
ous exhil,arating breath of Freedom. But when
the sun dawned on them, his intoxicating joy
began to be dashed with apprehension ; hatless
and bcmired, might they not be suspected and
detained by some officious authority ?
But the slop-shop set that all right He took
a double-bedded room in The Bear, locked the
door, put the key under his pillow, and slept till
eleven. At noon they were on the road again,
and jas they swung lustily along in the frosty but
kindly air, Alfred's chest expanded, his spirits
rose, and he felt a man all over. Exhilarated
by freedom, youth, and motion, and a little in-
flated by revtving vanity, his heart, buoyant as
his foot, now began to nurse aspiring projects:
he would indict his own fiither and the doctors,
and immolate them on the altar of justice, and
publicly wipe off the stigma they had cast on
him, and meantime he would cure David and
restore bim to his famiJj.
He loved this harmless companion of his cell,
his danger, and his flight ; loved him for Julia's
sake, loved him for his own. Youth and vanity
whispered, "I know more about madness than
the doctors ; I have seen it closer.** It struck
him David's longing for blue water was one of
those unerring instincts that sometimes guide
the sick to their cure. And then as the law
permits the forcible recapture of a patient
without a fresh order or certificates within
fourteen days of his escape from an asylum, he
did not think it prudent to show himself in Lon-
don till that time should have elapsed : so, all
things considered, why not hide a few days with
David in some insignificant sea-port, and revel
in liberty iqjd blue water with him all day long,
and so by associations touch the spring of mem-
ory, and begin the cure. As for David he seem-
ed driven seaward by some unseen spur ; he fidg-
eted at all delay ; even dinner fretted him ; he
panted so for his natural element. Alfred hu-
mored him, and an hour after sunset they reach-
ed the town of Canterbury. Here Alfred took
Ihe same precautions as before, and slept till
'iiine o'clock.
. When he awoke, he found David walking to
and fro impatiently. "All right, mess-mate,"
said Alfred, "we shall soon be in blue water."
He made all haste, and they were on the road
again by ten, walking at a gallant pace.
But the dog-cart was already rattling along
about thirty miles behind them. Green inquired
at all the turnpikes and vehicles ; the scent was
cold at first, but warmer by degrees, and hot at
Canterbury. Green just baited his gallant horse,
and came foaming on, and just as the pair en-
tered the town of Folkestone their pursuers came
up to the cross-roads, not five miles behind them.
Alfred went to a good inn in Folkestone, and
ordered a steak, then strolled with David by the
beach, and gloried in the water with him. "Aft-
er dinner we will take a boat, and have a sail,**
said he. " See there's a nice boat, riding at an-
chor there.**
David snuffed the breeze and his eye spark-
led, and he said, "Wind due east, mess-mate."
And this remark, slight as it was, was practical,
and gave Alfred great delight : strengthened his
growing conviction that not for Nothing had this
charge been thrown on him. He shovdd be the
one to cure his own father : for Julia's father
was his: he had no other now. "All right,"
said he, gayly, "we'll soon be on blue water:
but first we'll have our dinner, old boy, for I am
starving." David said nothing, and went rath-
er doggisdly back to the inn with him.
The steak was on the table. Alfred told the
waiter to uncover and David to fall to, while he
just ran up stairs to wash his hands. He came
down in less than two minutes ; but David was
gone, and the waiter standing there erect and
apathetic like a wooden sentinel.
" Why where is he ?" said Alfred.
" (rent's gone out," was the reply.
" And you stood there and let him ? yon bom
idiot. Which way is he gone ?'*
" I don't know," said the waiter, angrily; "I
ain't a pliceman. None but respectable gents
comes here, as don't want watclung." Alfred
darted out and scoured the town; he adced ev-
ery body if they had seen a tall gentleman dress-
ed like a common sailor: nobody oonld tell |iim:
VERY HARD CASH.
215
there were so many sailors about the port ; that
which in an inland town would have betrayed
the truant concealed him here. A cold per-
spiration began to gather on Alfred's brow, as
he ran wildly all over the place.
He could not find him, nor any trace of him.
At last it struck him that he had originally pro-
posed to go to Dover, and had spoken of that
town to David, though he had now glanced
aside, making for the smaller ports on the south
coast : he hired a horse directly, and galloped
furiously to Dover. He rode down to the pier,
gave his horse to a boy to hold, and ran about
inquiring for David. He could not find him :
but at last he found a policeman, who told him
he thought there was another party on the same
lay as himself: "No," said Bobby, correcting
himself, "it was two they were after, a gentle-
man and a sailor. Perhaps you are his mate."
Alfred's blood ran cold. "Pursued I and so
hotly I"
"No, no," he stammered; "I suspect I am
on the same business." Then he said cunning-
ly (for asylums teach the frankest natures cun-
ning), " Come and have a glass of grog, and tell
me all about it." Bobby consented, and under
its influence described Mrs. Dodd and her com-
panions to him.
But not every body can describe minutely.
In the bare outlines, which were all this artist
could furnish him, Alfred recognized at once,
whom do you think ? Mrs. Archbold, Dr. Wolf,
and his arch-enemy Rooke, the keeper. Doubt-
less his own mind, seizing on so vague a de-
scription, adapted it rather hastily to what
seemed probable. Mrs. Dodd never occurred to
him, nor that David was the sole, or even the
main, object of the pursuit. He was thorough-
ly puzzled what to do. However, as his pur-
suers had clearly scoured Dover, and would have
found David if there, he made use of their la-
bors and galloped back toward Folkestone. But
he took the precaution to inquire at the first
turnpike, and there he learned a lady and two
men had passed through about an hour before in
a dog-cart ; it was a wonder he had missed them.
Alfred gnashed his teeth. "Curse you," he
muuered. "Well, do my work in Folkestone,
I'll find him yet, and bafiie you." He turned
his horse's head westward and rode after David.
Convinced that his lost friend would not go in-
land, ho took care to keep near the cliffs, and
had ever an eye on the beach when the road
came near enough.
About eight miles west of Folkestone he saw
a dog-cart going down a hill before him : but
there was only a single person in it. However,
he increased his pace, and got close behind it
as it mounted the succeeding hill, which was a
high one. Walking leisurely behind it, his quick
eye caught sight of a lady's veil wrapped round
the iron of the seat.
That made him instantly suspect this might
be the dog-cart after all. But, if so, how came
a stranger in it ? He despised a single foe, and
resolved to pump this one and learn where the
others were.
While he was thinking how he should begin
the dog-cart stopped at the top of the hill, and
the driver looked seaward at some object that
appeared to interest him.
It was a glorious scene. Viewed from so great
a height the sea expajided like ocean, and its
light-blue waters sparkled and laughed innumer-
able in the breeze. "A beautiful sight. Sir,"
said the escaped prisoner; "you may well stop
to look at it." The man touched his hat and
chuckled. " I don't think you know what I am
looking at. Sir," he said, politely.
"I thought it was the lovely sea view; so
bright, so broad, so free,**
"No, Sir; not but what I can enjoy that a
bit, too : but what I'm looking at is an 'unt. Do
you see that little boat ? Sailing right down the
coast about eight miles ofi'? Well, Sir, what
do you think there is in that boat ? But you'll
never guess. A madman."
"Ahl"
"Curious, Sir, isn't it? a respectable gentle-
man too he is, and sails well ; only stark, star-
ing mad. There was two of 'em in company :
but it seems they can't keep together long. Our
one steals a fisherman's boat, and there he goes,
down channel. And now look here. Sir ; see this
steam-tug smoking along right in front of us,
she's after him, and see there's my governor
aboard standing by the wheel with a Bobby,
and a lady : and if ever there was a lady she's
one;" here he lowered his voice. "She's that
mad gentleman's wife. Sir, as I am a living sin-
ner."
They both looked down on the strange chase
in silence. "Will they catch her?" asked Al-
fred, at last, under his breath.
"How can we be off it? steam against sails.
And if he runs ashore, I shall be there to nab
him." Alfred looked, and looked: the water
came into his eyes. "It's the best thing that
can befall him now," he murmured. He gave the
man half a crown, and then turned his horse's
head and walked him down the hill toward
Folkestone. On his arrival there he paid for
his horse and his untasted dinner, and took the
first train to London, a little dispirited, and a
good deal mortified, for he hated to be beat:
but David was in good hands, that was one com-
fort : and he had glorious work on hand, love
and justice. He went to an out-of-the-way inn
in the suburbs, and, when he had bought a car-
pet-bag and some linen and other necessaries, be
had but one sovereign left.
His heart urged him vehemently to go at once
and find his Julia : but alas I he did not even
know where she lived; and he dared not at
present make public inquiries : that would draw
attention to himself, and be his destruction ; for
Wolf stood well with the police, and nearly al-
ways recaptured his truant patients' by their aid
before the fourteen days had elapsed. He de-
termined to go first to a solicitor, and launch
him against his enemies, while compelled to
shirk them in his own person. Curious posi-
tion ! Now among his father's creditors was Mr.
Corapton a solicitor, known for an eccentric, but
honorable man, and for success in litigation.
Mr. Compton used to do his own business in
Barkington, and employ an agent in London:
but Alfred remembered to have heard just before
his incarceration that he had reversed the parts,
and now lived in London. Alfred found him out
by the Directory, and called at his chambers in
Lincqln's Inn-fields. He had to Wait some time
in the outer office listening to a fluent earnest
client preaching within: but presently a shar^
216
VERY HARD CASH.
voice broke in upon the drone, and, after a few
sentences, Mr. Compton ushered oat a client
with these remarkable words : "And as for your
invention, it has been invented four times before
you invented it, and never was worth inventing
at all. And you have borrowed two hundred
pounds of me in ninety loans, each of which cost
me. an hour's invaluable time : I hold ninety ac-
knowledgments in your handwriting; and I'll
put them all in force for my protection :" with
this he turned to his head clerk; "Mr. Colls,
take out a writ against this client ; what is your
Christian name, Sir? I forget."
" Simon, "said the gaping client, off his guard.
"Thank you, Sir, "said Mr. Compton with sud-
den politeness : then resuming hostilities. " A
writ in the Common Pleas against Simon Mac-
farlane : keep it in your drawer. Colls, and if
ever the said Macfarlane does me the honor to
call on me again, serve him with it on the spot ;
and if not, not. Good-morning, Sir." And with
this he bolted into his own room and slammed its
door. The clerks opened the outer door to Mr.
Macfarlane with significant grins, and he went
out bewildered sorely, yea even like one that
walketh abroad in his sleep. " Now, Sir," said
Mr. Colls cheerfully to Alfred. But the new
client naturally hesitated now : he* put on his
most fascinating smile, and said: "Well, Mr.
Colls, what do you advise ? Is this a moment
to beard the lion in his den ?"
At Alfred's smile and address Colls fell in
love with him directly, and assured him, sotto
voce, and with friendly familiarity, that now was
his time. "Why, he'll be as sweet as honey now
he has got rid of a client^ With this he took
Alfred's name, and ushered him into a room
piled with japanned tin boxes, where Mr. Comp-
ton sat, looking all complacency, at a large desk
table, on which briefs, and drafts, and letters lay
in profusion and seeming confusion. He rose,
and with a benignant courtesy invited Alfred to
sit down and explain his business.
The reader is aware our Oxonian. could make
a close and luminous statement. He began at
the beginning, but soon disposed of preliminaries
and came to his capture at Silverton. Then
Mr. Compton quietly rang the bell, and with a
slight apology to Alfred requested Colls to search
for the draft of Mrs. HoUoway's will. Alfred
continued. Mr. Compton listened keenly, noted
the salient points on a sheet of brief-paper, and
demanded the exact dates of every important
event related.
The story finished, the attorney turned to
Colls, and said, mighty coolly, "You may go.
The will is in my pocket : but I made sure he
was a madman. They generally are, these ill-
used clients." (Exit Colls.) **Got a copy of
the settlement, Sir, under which you take this
ten thousand pounds ?"
"No, Sir."
" Any lawyer seen it ?"
"Oh yes; Mr. Crauford down at Barking-
ton."
" Good ! Friend of mine. I'll write to him.
Names and addresses of your trustees?"
Alfred gave them.
"You have brought the oi*der on which you
were confined, and the two certificates ?"
"Not I," said Alfred. "I have begged and
prayed for a sight of them, and never could get
one. That is one of the galling iniquities of the
system I call it *the doubib shuffle.* Just
bring your mind to bear onjuiis, Sir: The pris-
oner whose wits and liber^ have been signed
away behind his back is not allowed to see the
order and certificate on which he is confined
until afler his release : that release he is to ob-
tain by combating the statements in the order
and certificates. So to get out he must first see
and contradict the lies that put him in ; but to
see the lies that put him in, he must first get
out. So runs the circle of iniquity. Now, is
that the injustice of Earth, or the injustice of
Hell?"
Mr. Compton asked a moment to consider:
"Well, I think it is of the earth, earthy.
There's a mixture of Idiocy in it the Devil
might fairly repudiate. Young gentleman, the
English Statutes of Lunacy are famous monu-
ments of legislatorial incapacity : and indeed, as
a general rule, if you want justice and wisdom,
don't you go to Acts of Parliament, but to the
Common Law of England."
Alfred did not appreciate this observation : he '
made no reply to it, but inquired, with some heat,
"What he could do to punish the whole gang
his father, the certifying doctors, and the mad-
house keepers ?"
" Humph I Yon might indict them all for a
conspiracy," said Mr. Compton ; "but you would
be defeated. As a rule, avoid criminsd proceed-
ings where you have a civil remedy. A jury
will give a verdict and damages where they
would not cohvict on the same evidence. Yours
is just one of those cases where Temper says,
Mndict!' but Prudence says, 'sue I* and Law,
through John Compton, its oracle in this square,
says, sue the defendant and no other. Now, who
is the true defendant here, or party liable in
law?"
"The keeper of the asylum, for one."
"No. If I remember right, all proceedings
against him are expressly barred by a provision
in the last statute. Let us see."
He took down the statutes of the realm, and
showed Alfred the clause, which raises the pro-
prietor of a mad-house above the civic level of a
Prince Royal. " Curse the law," said Alfired,
bitterly.
"No, don't curse the Law. Curse the Act if
you like ; but we can't get on without the Law,
neither of us. Try again."
"The certifying doctor. Sir?'*
" Humph !" said Mr. Compton, knitting his
brows : " a jury might give you a verdict. But
it would probably be set aside by the full court,
or else by a court of error. For, unless you
could prove informality, barefaced negligence,
or mala fides, what does it come to? A profes-
sional man, bound to give medical opinion to all
comers, is consulted about yon, and says he
thinks you are insane ; you turn out sane. Well
then he was mistaken : but not more than he is
in most of his professional opinions. We law-
yers know what guess-work Medicine is, we see
it in the witness-box. I hate suing opinions : it
is like firing cannon at snipes in a wind. Try
again."
Alfred groaned. " Why there is nobody left
but the rogue who signed the order/*
" And if you were a lawyer that alone would
tell you he is the defendant. Wh^re a legul
VERY HARD CASH.
217
wrong has been committed by A. B. and C, and
there is no remedy against A. or B., there must
either be one against C, or none at all: bat
this Law abhors as Nature does a vacuum. Be-
sides this defendant has done the wrong com-
plained of. In his person you sue an act, not
an opinion. But of course you are not cool
enough to see all this just at first."
"Cool, Sir," said Alfred, despairingly; "I
am frozen with your remorseless law. What,
of all these villains, may I only attack one, and
can't I imprison even him, as he has me ? Such
narrow law encourages men to violence who
burn under wrongs like mine."
Mr. Compton looked keenly at his agitated,
mortified client, but made no concession. He
gave him a minute to digest the law's first bitter
pill:, and then said, "If I am to act for you,
you had better write a line to the Commission-
ers of Lunacy requesting them to hand me
copies of the order and certificates." Alfred
wrote it
"And now," s^d Mr. Compton, thoughtful-
ly^ "I don't think they will venture to recap-
ture you during the fourteen -days. But still
they might: and we attorneys are wary ani-
mals. So please give me at once a full author-
ity to act under advice of counsel for your pro-
tection." ,
Alfred wrote as requested, and Mr. Compton
put the paper in his (hrawer, remarking, " With
this I can proceed by law or equity, even should
you get into the asylum again." He then dis-
missed Alfred somewhat abruptly, but with an
invitation to call again after three clear days.
Like most ardent suitors after their first inter-
view with passionless law, he went away sadly
chilled, and so home to his cheerless lodging, to
count the honrs till he could see Julia, and learn
his fate from her lips.
This very morning a hasty note came to Ed-
ward from Folkestone, worded thus :
"Oh, Edward: my worst misgivings! The
two have parted. Poor papa has taken a man's
boat and is in sight. We shall follow directly
in a steamboat. But the other I You know my
fears ; you must be father and mother to that
poor child till I come home.
" Your sad mother,
" Lucy Dodd."
Julia held out her hand for the note. Ed-
ward put it in his pocket.
" What is that for?" said the young lady.
"Why surely I may put my own property in
my pocket."
" Oh, certainly. I only want to look at it."
"Excuse me."
" Are you in earnest, Edward ? Not let me
see dear mamma's letter !" and the eloquent face
looked piteously surprised.
" Ob, I'll tell you the contents. Papa had got
to Folkestone and taken a boat, and gone to sea :
then mamma took a steamboat and after him :
so she will soon catch him, and is not that a
comfort?"
" Oh yes," cried Julia, and was for some time
too interested and excited to think of any thing
else. But presently she returned to the charge.
"Any thing else, dear?"
* * Humph 1 Well, not of equal importance. "
O
" Oh, if it is of no importance, there can be
no reason for not telling me. What was it ?"
Edward colored, bi^t said nothing. He thought,
however: and thus ran his thoughts : "She's my
intellectual superior; and I've got to deceive
^her ; and a nice mess I shall make of it."
"It ts of importance," said Julia, ejdng him.
"You have told a story: and you don't love
your sister.'* This fulminated, she drew her-
self up proudly and was silent. A minute after-
ward, stealing a look at her, he saw her eyes
suddenly fill with tears, apropos of nothing tan-
gible.
"Now this is nice," said he to himself.
At noon she put on her bonnet to visit her dis-
trict. He put on his hat directlv, and accom-
panied her. Great waflher'i|^#i|i^ pleasure at
that; it was the first time he h%dL4one her the
honor. She took him to her poor people, and
showed him off with innocent pride.
" Hannah, this is my brother." Then in a
whisper, "Isn't he beautiful ?'*^ Presently she
saw him looking pale ; unheard-of phenomenon !
"There now, you are ill," said she. "Come
home directly, and be nursed."
"No, no," said he. "I only want a little
fresh air. What horrid places! what horrid
sights and Smells ! I say you must have no end
of pluck to face them."
" No, no, no. Dearest, I pray for strength :
that is how I manage. And oh, Edward, you
used to think the poor were not to be pitied.
But now you see."
" Yes, I see, and smell, and all. You are a
brave, good girl. Got any salts about you ?"
"Yes, of course. There. But fancy a young
lion smelling salts !"
" A young duffer, you mean ; that has passed
for game through the thing not being looked into
close."
" Oh, you can be close enough, where I want
you to be open."
No answer.
The next day he accompanied her again, but
remained at the stair-foot while she went in to
her patients ; and, when she came down, asked
her, Could no good Christian be found to knock
that poor woman on the head who live in a
plate ?
"No good Heathen, you mean," said Julia.
"Why yes," said he; "the savages manage
these things better."
He also accompanied her shopping, and smoked
phlegmatically butside the shops ; nor could she
exhaust his patience. Then the quick girl put
this and that together. When they were at
home again and her bonnet off, she looked him
in the fabe and said, sweetly, "I have got a
watch-dog." He smiled, and said nothing.
"Why don't you answer?" said Julia, impetu-
ously.
"Because least said is soonest mended. Be-
sides, I'm down upon you : you decoy me into a
friendly conversation, and then you say biting
things directly."
"If I bite you, you sting me. Such want of
confidence ! Oh how cruel ! how cruel ! Why
can you not trust me ? Am I a child ? No one
is young who has suffered what I have suffered.
Secrets disunite a family : and we were so united.
And then you are so stupid. You keejJ a secret ?
Yes, like a dog in a chain. You can't hide it
218
VERT HARD CASH.
one bit. Yon have nndertaken a task you are
not fit for, Sir ; to hide a secret, you must be
Able to tell fibs : and you can't : not for want of
badness, bat cleverness to tell them smoothly ;
you know it, you know it ; and so out of your
abominable slyness you won't say a word. There,
it is no use my trying to provoke him. I wish
you were not so good-tempered ; so apathetic, I
mean, of course." Then, with one of her old
rapid transitions, she began to caress him and
fawn on him : she seated him in an arm-chair
and herself on a foot-stool, and suddenly curling
round his neck, murmured, "Dear, dear brother,
have pity on a poor girl, and tell her is there
any news that I have a right to hear, only mam
ma has given you your orders tiot to tell me :
tell me, love !'* This last in an exquisite whis-
per.
"Let me alone, you little fascinating demon,"
said he, angrily. "Ask mamma. I \^n*t tell
you a word."
"Thank you !" she cried, bounding to her feet ;
" you Aare told me. He is alive. He loves me
still. He was bewitched, seduced, deluded. He
has come to himself. Mamma has seen him.
He wants to come and beg my pardon. But you
are aU afraid I shall forgive him. But I will not,
for at the first word I'll stop his mouth, and say,
*If you were happy away from me, I suppose
you would not have come back.' " And instant-
ly she burst out singing, with inspired eloquence
and defiance,
*' Castles are sacked in war,
Chieftains are scattered far,
Truth is a fixed star.
Aileen aroon."
But, unable to sustain it, the poor Impetuosi-
ty drooped as quickly as she had mounted, and
out went her arm on the table and her forehead
sank on her arm, and the tears began to run si-
lently down the sweet face, so brave for a mo-
ment.*
" W-will y-you allow me to light a cigar?"
faltered Edward. "I'm wretched and misera-
ble; you Tempest in petticoats, you !"
She made him a sign of assent with the hand
that was dangling languidly, but she did not
speak; n6r did she appeal to him any more.
Alienation was commencing. But, what was
worse than speaking her mind, she was forever
at the window now, looking up and down the
street; and walking with her he felt her arm
often tremble, and sometimes jerk. The secret
was agitating her nerves, and destroying her
tranquillity as much, or perhaps more than if she
had known all.
Mrs. Dodd wrote from Portsmouth, whereof
anon.
Mr. Peterson called, and soon after him Mr.
Hurd. Edward was glad to see them, especial-
ly the latter, whose visits seemed always to do
Julia good.
Moreover, as Peterson and Hurd were rivals,
it afforded Edward an innocent amusement to
see their ill-concealed aversion to one another,
and the admirable address and delicacy with
which his sister conducted herself between them.
However; this pastime was cut short by Sarah
coming in and saying, " There's a young man
wants to see you. Sir."
Jalia looked up and changed color.
"I think he is a fireman," said Sarah. She
knew very well he was a fireman, and also one
of her followers. Edward went out and found
One of his late brethren, who told him a young
gentleman had just been inquiring for him at
the station.
' "What was he like?"
" Why I was a good ways off, but I saw he was
a tall one."
"Six feet?"
"Full that."
" Give you his name ?"
" No. I didn't speak to him : it was Andrew.
Andrew says he asked if there was a firemau
called Dodd, so Andrew said you had left ; then
the swell asked where you lived, and Andrew
couldn't tell him any more than it was in Pem-
broke Street. So I told him, says I, *Why
couldn't you call me ? It is number sixty-six,'
says I. * Ob, he is coming back, ' says Andrew.
However, I thought I'd come and tell you."
(And so get a word with Sarah, you sly dog.)
Edward thanked him, and put on his hat di-
rectly, for he could not disguise from himself
that this visitor might be Alfred Hardie. In-
deed, what more likely ?
Messrs. Hurd and Peterson always tried to
stay one another out whenever they met at 6G
Pembroke Street. However, to make sure of
not leaving Julia alone, Edw^ went in and ask-
ed them both to luncheon, at which time he said
he should be back.
As he walked rapidly to the station he grew
more and more convinced that it was Alfred
Hardie. And his reflections ran like this:
" What a head-piece mamma has ! But it did
not strike her he would come to me first. Yet
how plain that looks now : for of course I'm the
duffer's only clew to Julia. These madmen are
no fools though. And how quiet he was that
night ! And he made papa go down the ladder
first : that was the old Alfred Hardie. He was
always generous : vain, overbearing, saucy, but
noble with it all. I liked him : he was a man
that showed you his worst, and let you find his
best out by degrees. He hated to be beat : but
that's no crime. He was a beautiful oar : and
handled his mawleys uncommon ; he sparred
with all the prize-fighters that came to Oxford,
and took punishment better than you would
think ; and a wonderful quick hitter ; Alec Reid
owned that. Poor Taff Hardie ! And when I
think that God has overthrown his powerful
mind, and left me mine, such as it is ! But the
worst is my having gone on calling him ' the
Wretch' all this time : and nothing too bad for
him. I ought to be ashamed of myself. It
grieves me very much. * When found make a
note on ;' never judge a fellow behind his back
again,"
Arrived at the station, he inquired whether
his friend had called again, and was answered in
the negative. He waited a few minutes, and
then, with the superintendent's permission, wrote "
a note to Alfred, inviting him to dine at Simp-
son's at six, and left it with the firemen. This
done, he was about to return home, when an-
other thought struck him. He got a messenger,
and sent off a single line to Dr. Wolf, to tell
him Alfred Hardie would be at Simpson's at
seven o'clock.
I But when the messenger was gone, he regret-
VERY HARD CASH.
219
ted what he had done. He had done it for Al-
fred's good ; but still it was treason. He felt
unhappy, and wended his way homeward dis-
consolately, realizing more and more that he
had not brains for the difficulties imposed upon
him.
On entering Pembroke Street he heard a buzz :
He looked up, and saw a considerable crowd
collected in a semicircle. "Why that is near
our house," he said, and quickened his steps.
When he got near to his house he saw that all
the people's eyes were bent on No. 66.
He dashed into the crowd. " What on earth
is the matter?" he cried.
"The matter? Plenty's the matter, young
man," cried one.
"Murder's the matter," said another.
At that he turned pale as death. An intelli-
gent man saw his violent agitation, and asked
him hurriedly if he belonged to the house.
" Yes. For Grod's sake what is it ?"
" Make way there !" shouted the man. " He
belongs. Sir, a madman has broke loose and
got into your house. And I'm sorry to say he
has just killed two men."
" With a pistol," cried two, faking together.
CHAPTER XLVni.
Alfred Hardie spent three days writhing in
his little lodging.* His situation had been sad-
der, but never more irritating. By right pos-
sessor of thousands, yet in fact reduced to one
suit, two shirts, and half a crown : rich in intel-
lect, yet hunted as a madman : affianced to the
loveliest girl in England, yet afraid to go near
her for fear of being torn from her again, and
forever. All this could last but one week more ;
but a week's positive torture was no trifle to con-
template, with a rival at his Julia's ear all the
time. Suppose she should have been faitjiful all
these months, but in this last week should be
worn out and give herself to another: such
things had been known. He went to Lincoln's
Inn with this irritating fear tearing him like a
vulture. Mr. Compton received him cheerfully,
and told him he had begun operations in Hardie
versus Hardie: had written to Thomas Hardie
two days ago, and inquired his London solicitor,
and whether that gentleman would accept service
of the writ in Hardie versus Hardie.
"To Thomas Hardie? Why what has he to
do with it ?" asked Alfred. .
" He is the defendant in the suit." Then see-
ing amazement and incredulity on Alfred's face,
he explained that the Commissioners of Lunacy
had treated him with great courtesy; had at
once furnished him with copies, not only of the
order and certificates, but of other valuable doc-
uments. "And there," said he, "lies the or-
der ; signed by Thomas Hardie, of Clare Court,
Yorkshire."
"Curse his impudence," cried Alfred, in a
fury : " why, Sir, he is next door to an idiot him-
self."
"What does that matter? Ah, now, if I had
gone in a passion and indicted him, there would
be a defense directly; 'no malice, defendant
being non compos.* Whereas, by gently, quiet-
ly suing him, even if he was a lunatic, we would
make him or his estate pay a round sum for false-
ly imprisoning a sane Briton. By-the-by, here
is counsel's opinion on your case," and he banded
him a short opinion of a distinguished Queen's
Counsel, the concluding words of which were
these :
8. If the certificates and order are in legal
form, and were made and given bona fide,
no action lies for the capture or detention
of Mr. Hardie.
"Why it is dead against me," said Alfred.
" There goes the one rotten reed you had left
me."
'^Singularly dead," said the attorney, coolly:
"he does not even say *I am of opinion.' He is
in great practice, and hard-worked : in his hur-
ry ho . has taken up the Lunacy Acts, and has
forgotten that the rights of sane Englishmen are
not the creatures of these little trumpery stat-
utes; no, thank you; our rights are centuries
older, and prevail wherever, by good luck, the
statutes of the realm are silent ; now they are
all silent about incarcerating sane men. Besides,
he gives no cases. What is an opinion without
a precedent? a lawyer's guess. I thought so lit-
tle of his opinion that I sent the case to a clever
junior who has got time to think before he
writes." . Colls entered soon after with the said
junior's opinion. Mr. Compton opened it, and
saying, "Now let us see what he says," read it
to Alfred. It ran thus :
" There was clearly a right of action under the
common law: and it has been exercised. Ander-
don V. Brothers ; Paternoster v. Paternoster, &c.
Such a right can only be annulled by the ex-
press terms of a statute : now the 8 and 9 Vic-
toria, cap. 100, sect. 99, so annuls it, as against
the mad-house proprietor only. That, therefore,
is the statutory exception, and tends to confirm
the common right. If the facts are as repre-
sented (on which, of course, I can form no opin-
ion), Mr. Hardie can safely sue the person who
signed the order for his alleged false imprison-
ment.
"I agree with you that the usual course by
praying the Court of Chancery for a Commissioii
de Lunatico Inquirendo is timorous, and rests
on prejudice. Pit., if successful, is saddled with
his own costs, and sometimes with Deft.'s, and
obtains no compensation. It seems clear that a
jury sitting at Nisi Prius can deal as well with
the main fact as can a jury sitting by the order
of th^ Chancellor ; and I need not say the costs
will go with their verdict, to say nothing of the
damages, which may be heavy. On the other
hand, an indictment is hazardous; and I think
you can lose nothing by beginning with the suit.
By having a short-hand writer at the trial, you
may collect materials for an indictment, and also
feel the pulse of the court ; you can then confer
upon the evidence with some counsel better versed
in criminal law than myself. M^ advice is to
sue Thomas Hardie ; and declare in Tort.
(Signed) "Barrow.
" N.B. I have been thus particular, because
Hardie v. Hardie (if carried to a verdict) will
probably be a leading case."
" Who shall decide when counsel disagree?"
inquired Alfred, satirically.
" That depends on where they do it. If in
court, the judge. If here, the attorney."
220
VERY HAKD CASH.
"You appear sanguine, Mr. Compton," said
Alfred : ** perhaps you would not mind advanc-
ing me a little money. IVe only a half a
crown."
**It is all ready for you in this drawer,** said
Compton, cheerfully. " See, thirty sovereigns.
Then you need not go to a bank."
"What, you thought I should borrow?*'
"Don't all my clients begin by bleeding mef
It is the rule of this oflace."
" Then why don't you give up business ?"
" Because I bleed the opposite attorney's client
a little more than my own bleeds me."
He then made Alfred sign a promissory note
for the thirty pounds : advised him to keep snug
for one week more, and promised to write to
him in two days, and send Thomas Hardie's an-
swer. Alfred left his address, and went from
Mr. Compton a lighter man. Convinced of his
courage and prudence, he shifted one care off
his own shoulders : and thought of love alone.
But, strange as it may appear, two cares are
sometim^ better for a man than one. Alfred,
having now no worry to divert him from his
deeper anxiety, was all love and jealousy ; and
quite overwhelmed : the desire of his heart was
so strong it overpowered alike his patience and
his prudence. He jumped into a cab, and drove
to all the firemen's stations on the Surrey side of
the river, inquiring for Edward. At last he hit
upon the right one, and learned that .Jnlia lived
in Pembroke Street: number unknown. He
drove home to his lodgings : bought some ready-
made clothes, and dressed like a gentleman ; then
told the cabman to drive to Pembroke Street.
He knew he was acting imprudently; but he
could not help it. And besides, Mr. Compton
had now written to his uncle, and begun the at-
tack : that would surely intimidate his enemies,
and turn their thoughts to defense, not to fresh
offense. However, catching sight of a gun-
smith's shop on the way, he suddenly resolved
to arm himself on the bare chance of an attack.
He stopped the cab: went in and bought a
double-barreled pistol, with powder-flask, bul-
lets, wads, and caps, complete. This he loaded
in the cab, and felt quite nrudent after it. The
prudence of youth.
He paid off the cab in Pembroke Street, and
set about the task of discovering Julia. He in-
quired at several houses, but was unsuccessful.
Then he walked slowly all down the street, look-
ing up at all the windows. And I think,, if he
had done this the day before, he might have seen
her, or she him : she was so often at the window
now. But just then she had company to keep
her in order.
He was unlucky in another respect. Edward
came out of No. 66 and went up the street, when
he himself was going down it not so very many
yards off. If Alfred's face had only been turned
the other way he would have seen Edward, and
all would have gone .differently.
The stoutest hearts have their moments of
weakness and deep dejection. Few things are
more certain, and less realized by ordinary men,
than this ; from Palissy fighting with Enamel to
Layard disinterring a city, this thing is so.
Unable to find Julia in the very street she in-
habited, Alfred felt weak against fate. He said
to himself, "If I find her, I shall perhaps wish
IJiad never sought her."
In his hour of dejection stem reason would be
heard, and asked him whether all Mrs. Archbold
had said could be pure invention ; and he was
obliged to confess that was too unlikely. Then
he felt so sick at heart he was half minded to
turn and fly the street. But there was a large
yard close by him, entered by a broad and lofty
gateway cut through one of the houses. The
yard belonged to a dealer in hay: two empty
wagons were there, but no men visible, being
their dinner-time. Alfred slipped in here, and
sat down on the shaft of a wagon : and let his
courage ooze. He sighed, and sighed, and fear-
ed to know his fate. And so he sat with his
face in his hands tmmanned.
Presently a strain of music broke on his ear.
It seemed to come from the street. He raised
his head to listen. He colored, his eyes sparkled ;
he stole out on tip-toe with wondering, inquiring
face into the street. Once there, he stood spell-
bound, thrilling from his heart, that seemed now
on fire, to his fingers' ends. For a heavenly
voice was singing to the piano just above his
head ; singing in earnest, making the veiy street
ring. Already listeners were gathering, and a
woman of the people said, " It*s a soul singing
without a body." Amazing good things are said
in the streets. The voice was the voice of Julia.
The song was Aileen Aroon ; the hymn of con-
stancy. So sudden and full was the bliss which
poured into the long and sore tried listener at
this sudden answer to his fears that tears of Joy
trembled in his eyes. "Wretch that I was to
doubt her !" he said ; and unable to contain his
longing, unable to wait and listen even to that
which had changed his grief and doubts into
rapture, he was at the door in a moment A
servant opened it; "Miss Dodd?" he said, or
rather panted : " you need not announce me. I
am an old acquaintance.'* He could not bear
any one should see the meeting between him and
his' beloved ; he went up the steep and narrow
stair, guided by the hymn of constancy.
He stopped at* the door, his heart was beating
so violently.
Then he turned the handle softly, and stepped
into* the drawing-room : it was a double room :
he took two steps and was in the opening, and
almost at Julia's back.
Two young clergymen were bending devotecL-
ly one on each side of her ; it was to them she
was singing the hymn of constancy.
Alfred started back as if he had been stung ;
and the music stopped dead short.
For she had heard his step, and, woman-like,
was looking into her companions' eyes first, to
see if her ear had deceived her. What she saw
there brought her slowly round with a wild
look. Her hands 'rose toward her face, and she
shrank away sideways from him as if he was a
serpent, and her dilated eyes looked over her
cringing shoulder at him, and she was pale and
red, and pale and red a dozen times in as many
seconds.
He eyed her sorrowfully and sternly, taking
for shame that strange mixture of emotions which
possessed her. And so they met.
Strange meeting for two true lovers, who had
parted last upon their wedding-eve.
No doubt, if they had been alone, one or oth-
er would have spoken directly: but the sitna-
VERY HARD CASH.
221
tion was complicated by the presence of two
rivals, and this tied their tongues, I think. They
devoured one, another with their eyes in silence ;
only Julia rose slowly to her feet, and began to
tremble from head to foot as she looked at him.
*'Is this intrusion agreeable to yon. Miss
Dodd ?" said Mr. Hurd, respectfully, by way of
courting her. She made no reply: but only
looked wildly at him still, and quivered visibly.
"Pray, Sir," said Alfred, turning on Mr.
Hurd, "have you any right to interfere between
us two?"
* * None whatever," said Julia, hastily. * * Mr.
Hurd, I need no one : I will permit no one to
say a word to him. Mr. Hardie knows he can
not enter a house where I am without an ex-
planation."
"What, before a couple of curates?"
'* Do not be insolent to my friends, Sir," said
Julia, panting.
This wounded Alfred deeply. " Oh, as you
please," said he. "Only if you put me on my
defense before strangers, I shall, perhaps, put
you to the blush before them."
"Why do you come here, Sir?" said Julia,
not deigning to notice his threat.
" To see my betrothed."
* * Oh, indeed ! Then why have you postponed
your visit so long ?"
"I was in prison."
" In prison, Alfred ?"
" In the worst of all prisons ; where I was put
because I loved you ; where I was detained be-
cause I persisted in loving you, you faithless, in-
constant girl."
He choked at these words; she smiled; a
faint, uncertain smile. It died away, and she
shook her head, and said, sadly :
" Defend yourself, and then call me as many
names as you like. Where was this prison ?"
"It was an asylum: a mad-house."
The girl stared at him bewildered. He put
his hand into his pocket, and took Peggy's let-
ter. "Read that," he said. She held it in her
hand, and looked him in the face to divine the
contents. "Read it," said he, almost fiercely:
"that was the decoy." She held it shaking
in her hands, and stared at it. I don't know
whether she read it or not.
He went on: "The same villain who de-
frauded your father of his money robbed me of
my wife and my liberty : that Silverton House
was a lunatic asylum, and ever since then (oh,
Julia, the agony of that day !) I have been con-
fined in one or other of those hells ; sane among
the mad; till Drayton House took fire, and I
escaped, for what, to.be put on my defense by
you ! What have you suffered from our separa-
tion, compared with the manifold angmsh I have
endured, that you dare to receive the most in-
jured and constant of mankind like this, you,
who have had your liberty all this time, and
have consoled yourself for my absence with a
couple of curates I"
" For shame !" said Julia, blushing to the fore-
head, yet smiling in a way her companions could
not understand.
"Miss Dodd, will you put up with these in-
sults ?" said Mr. Hurd.
"Ay, and a thousand more," cried Julia,
radiant, "and thank Heaven fr them; they
prove his sincerity. You, who have thought
proper to stay and hear me insult my betrothed,
and put my superior on his defense, look how I
receive his just rebuke : dear, cruelly used, Al-
fred, I never doubted you in my heart, no not
for a moment ; forgive me for taunting you to
clear yourself; you who were always the soul of
truth and honor. Forgive me : I too have suf-
fered ; for I thought my Alfred was dead. For-
give me.'^
And with this she was sinking slowly to her
knees with the most touching grace, all blush-
es, tears) penitence, happiness, and love ; but he
caught her eagerly. "Oh! Grod forbid," he
cried: and in a moment her head was on his
shoulder, and they mingled their tears together.
It was Julia who recovered herself first, and
shrank from him a little, and murmured, " We
are not alone."
The misgiving came rather late : and they
were alone. * '
The other gentlemen had comprehended at
last that it was indelicate to remain : they had
melted quietly away ; and Peterson rushed down
the street; but Hurd hung disconsolate about
the very entry where Alfred had just desponded
before him.
"Sit by me, my poor darling, and tell me
all," said Julia.
He began ; but, ere he had told her abont his
first day at his first asylum, she moaned and
turned faint at the recital, and her lovely head
sank on his shoulder. He kissed her, and tried
to comfort her, and said he would not tell her
any more. But she said somewhat character-
istically, "I insist on your telling me all; all.
It will kill me." Which did not seem to Alfred
a cogent reason for continuing his narrative.
He varied it by telling her that through all his
misery the thought of her had sustained him.
A rough voice was heard in the passage in-
quiring for Mr. Hardie. Alfred started up in
dismay : for it was Rooke's voice. " I am un-
done," he cried. "They are coming to take
me again ; and, if they, do, they will drug me ;
I am a dead man."
"Flyl" cried Julia, "fly! up stairs; the
leads."
He darted to the door, and out' on the landing;
It was too late. Rooke had just turned the
comer of the stairs, and saw him. He whistled
and rushed after Alfred. Alfred bounded up
the next flight of stairs ; bnl^ even as he went,
his fighting blood got up ; he remembered his
pistol : he drew it, turned on the upper landing,
and leveled the weapon full at Rooke's forehead.
The man recoiled with a yell, and got to a re-
spectful distance on the second landing. There
he began to parley. " Come, Mr. Hardie, Sir,"
said he, "that is past a joke: would you mur-
der a man?"
"It's no murder to kill an assassin in defense
of life or liberty : and I'll kill you, Rooke, as I
would kill a wasp, if you lay a finger on me."
"Do you hear that?" shouted Rooke to some
one below.
"Ay, I hear," replied the voice of Hayes. ,
" Then loose him. And run in after him."
There was a terrible silence ; then a scratch-
ing was heard below: and, above, the deadly
click of the pistol-hammers brought to full cock.
And then dieie was a heavy pattering rush,
VERY HARD CASH.
and Vulcan came charging up the stairs like a
lion. He was half-nauzzkd ; but that Alfred
did not know : he stepped forward and fired at
the tremendous brute somewhat unsteadily, and
missed him by. an inch; the bullet glanced off
the stairs and entered the wall within a yard of
Rooke's head.; ere Alfred could fire again, the
huge brute leaped on him, and knocked him
down like a child, and made a grab at his
throat; Alfred, with admirable presence of
mind, seized a baluster, and, drawing himself
up, put the pistol to Vulcan's ear, ana fired the
other barrel just as Booke rushed up the stairs
to secure his prisoner: the dog bounded into
the air and fell over dead with shattered skull,
leaving Alfred bespattered with blood and brains,
and half blinded : but he struggled up, and tore
the baluster out in doing so, just as a heavy
body fell forward at his feet : it was Rooke
stumbling over Vulcan's carcass so unexpect-
edly thrown in his path: Alfred cleared his
eyes with his hand, and as Rooke struggled up,
lifted the baluster high above his head, and,
with his long sinewy arm and elastic body, dis-
charged a blow frightful to look at; for youth,
strength, skill, and hate all swelled, and rose,
and struck together in that one furious gesture.
If the wood had held, the skull must have gone.
As it was, the baluster broke over the man's
heacK (and one half went spinning up to the
ceiling) ; the man's head cracked under the
baluster like a glass bottle ; and Rooke lay flat
and mute, with the blood running from his nose
and ears. Alfred hurled the remnant of the
baluster down at Haves and the others, and
darted into a room (it was Julia's bedroom),
and was heard to open the window, and then
drag furniture to the door and barricade it.
This done, he went to load his pistol, which he
thought he had slipped into his pocket after fell-
ing Rooke. He found to his dismay it was not
there. The fact was it had slipped past his
pocket and fallen down.
During the fight shriek upon shriek issued
from the drawing-room. But now all was still.
On the stairs lay Vulcan dead, Rooke senseless :
below, Julia in a dead faint. And all in little
more than a minute.
Dr. Wolf arrived with the police and two more
keepers, new ones in the place of Wales and Gar-
rett discharged ; and urged them to break into
the bedroom and capture the maniac : but first
he was cautious enough to set two of them to
watch the back of the house. " There, " he said,
** where that load of hay is going in ; that is the
way to it. Now stand you in the yard and
watch."
This last mandate was readily complied with ;
for there was not much to be feared on the stones
below from a maniac self-immnred on the second
story. But to break open that bedroom-door
was quite another thing. The stairs were like a
shambles already, a chilling sight to the eyes of
mercenary valor.
Rooke was but just sensible : the others hung
back. But presently the pistol was found stick-
ing in a pool of gore. This put a new face on
the matter ; and Dr. Wolf himself showed the
qualities of a commander. He sent down word
to his sentinels in the yard to be prepared for
any attempt on Alfred's part, however desperate :
and he sent a verbal message to a stately gentle-
man who was sitting anxious in lodgings over
the way, after bribing high and low, giving out
money like water to secure the recapture, and so
escape what he called his unnatural son's venge-
ance ; for he knew him to be by nature bold
and vindictive like himself. Afte these pre-
liminaries. Doctor Wolf headed his remainiug
forces, to wit, two keepers, and two policemen,
and thundered at the bedroom-door, and sum-
moned Alfred to surrender.
Now among the spectators who watched and
listened with bated breath, was one to whom
this scene had an interest of its own. Mr. Hurd,
disconcerted by Alfred's sudden reappearance,
and the lovers' reconciliation, had hung about
the entry very miserable : for he was sincerely
attached to Julia. But while he was in this
stupor came the posse to recapture Alfred, and
he heard them say so. Then the shots were
fired within, then Wolf and his men got in, and
Mr. Hurd, \frho was now at the door, got in with
them, to protect Julia, and see this dangerous
and inconvenient character disposed of. He was
looking demurely on at a safeish distance, when
his late triumphant rival was summoned to sur-
render.
No reply.
Dr. Wolf coaxed.
No reply.
Dr. Wolf told him he had police as well as
keepers, and resistance would be idle.
No reply.
Dr. Wolf ordered his men to break in the door.
After some little delay, one of the keepers
applied a chisel, while a policeman held his
truncheon ready to defend the operator. The
lock gave way. But the door could not open for
furniture.
After some further delay they took it off its
hinges, and the room stood revealed.
To their surprise no rush was made at them.
The maniac was not even in sight.
"He is down upon his luck," whispered one
of the new keepers : " we shall fi'nd him crouched
somewhere." They looked under the bed. He
was not there. They opened a cupboard : three
or four dresses hung from wooden pegs ; they
searched the gowns most minutely : but found
no maniac hid in their ample folds. Presently
some soot was observed lying in the grate : and
it was inferred he had gone up the chimney.
On inspection the opening appeared almost
too narrow. Then Dr. Wolf questioned his
sentinels in the yard. "Have you been there
all the time?"
"Yes, Sir.*'
" Seen nothing?"
"No, Sir. And our eyes have never been off
the window and the leads. "
Here was a mystery : and not a clew to its so-
lution. The window was open: but five-and-
twenty feet above the paved yard : had he leaped
down he must have been dashed to pieces.
Many tongues began to go at once : in the
midst of which Edward burst in, and found the
two dead men of contemporary history consisted
of a dead dog and a stunned man, who, having
a head like a bullet, was now come to himself
and vowing vengeance. He found Julia very
pale, supported and consoled by Mr. Hurd. He
was congratulating her on her escape from a
dangerous maniac. . .
VERY HARD CASH.
She rose and tottered away from him to her
brother, and clang to him. He said what he
could to encourage her, then deposited her in an
arm-chair and went up stairs ; he soon satisfied
himself Alfred was not in the house. On this
he requested Dr. Wolf and his men to leave the
premises. The doctor demurred. Edward in-
sisted, and challenged him to show a magistrate's
warrani for entering a private house. The doc-
tor was obliged to own he had none. Edward
then told the policemen they were engaged in an
illegal act ; the police were forbidden by Act of
Parliament to take part in these captures. Now
the police knew that very well : but, being hand-
somely bribed, they had presumed, and not for
the first time, upon that ignorance of law which
is deemed an essential part of a private citizen's
accomplishments in modern days. In a word, by
temper and firmness, and a smattering of law
gathered from the omniscient 'Tis&', Edward
cleared his castle of the lawless crew. But they
paraded the street, and watched the yard till
dusk, when its proprietor ran rusty and turned
them out.
Julia sat between Edward and Mr. Hurd, with
her head thrown back and her eyes closed, and
received in silence their congratulations on her
escape. She was thinking of his. When they
had quite done, she opened her eyes and said,
"Send for Dr. Sampson. Nobody else knows
any thing. Oh pray, pray, pray send for Dr.
Sampson."
Mr. Hurd said he would go for Dr. Sampson.
She thanked him warmly.
Then she crept away to her bedroom, and
locked herself in, and sat on the hearth-rug, and
thought, and thought, and recalled every word
and tone of her Alfred ; comparing things old
and new.
Dr. Sampson was a few miles out of town,
visiting a patient. It was nine o'clock in the
evening when he got Julia's note ; but he came
on to Pembroke Street at once. Dr. Wolf and
his men had retired, leaving a sentinel in the
street, on the bare chance of Alfred returning.
Dr. Sampson found brother and sister sitting
sadly, but lovingly, together. Julia rose upon
his entrance. *' Oh, Doctor Sampson ! Now is
he what they say he is ?"
"How can I tell, till I see 'm?'* objected the
doctor.
"But you know they call people mad who are
nothing of the kind : for you said so.'*
Sampson readily assented to this. "Why it
was but last year a surjin came to me with one
Jackson, a tailor, and said, 'Just sign a certifi-
cate for this man: his wife's mad.' *Let me
see her,' sid I. *What for,' sis he; * when her
own husband applies ?'. * Excuse me,' sis I, * I'm
not a bat, I'm Saampson.* I went to see her;
she was nairvous and excited ; ' Oh I know what
you come about,' said she. *But you are mis-
taken.' I questioned her kindly, and she told
me her husband was a great trile t' her nairves.
I refused to sign : on that disn't the tailor drown
himself in the canal nixt day? He was the
madman; and she knew it all the time; but
wouldn't tell us; and that's a woman all over."
"Well then," said Julia, hopefully.
"Ay but," said Sampson, "these cases are
exceptions, after all : and the chances are nine
to one he's mad. Dawn't you remember that
was one of the solutions 1 offered ye, when he le-
vanted on his wedding-day?" He added, satir-
ically, "And couldn't all that logic keep in a
little reason?"
This cynical speech struck Julia to the heart :
she could not bear it, and retired to her own room.
Then Dr. Sampson saw his mistake, and said
to Edward, with some concern, "Maircy on us,
she is not in love with him still, is she? I
thought that young parson was the man now."
Edward shook his head, but declined to go
much into a topic so delicate as his sister's
affections : and just then an alarming letter was
delivered from Mrs. Dodd. She wrote to the
effect that David, favored by the wind, had run
into Portsmouth Harbor before their eyes, and
had disappeared, hidden, it was feared, by one of
those low publicans, who provide bad ships with
sailors, receiving a commission. On this an earn-
est conversation between Sampson and Edward.
It was interrupted in its turn.
Julia burst suddenly into the room, pale and
violently excited, clasping her hands and crying,
" He is there. His voice is like a child's. Oh,
help me ! He is hurt. He is dying."
CHAPTER XLIX.
Julia, as I have said, went to her own room,
wounded unintentionally by a chance speech:
she sat down sick at heart ; and presently open-
ed her window and looked out upon the starry
night, and wondered where Alfred was now ;
that Alfred for whom nobody else had a human
heart, it seemed. "Alfred! my poor Alfred!"
and sighed, and half expected to hear him reply.
Then she said to herself, " They all called you
false but me; yet I was right: and now they
all call you mad; but not I: I believe nothing
against you. You are my own Alfred still.
Where have the wretches driven you to?" At
this her feelings carried her away, and she cried
aloud on him despairingly, and leaned upon the
window-sill, and the tears ran fast for him.
Presently out of the silence of the night seem-
ed to struggle a faint but clear voice :
"JuUa!"
She started, and a muffled scream came from
her. Then she listened, all trembling. Again
the voice sighed, faintly but clear, "Julia!"
"Alfred?" said she, quavering.
"Yes. Pray be cautious; give no alarm.
The house is watched; bring Edward."
She flew down stairs, and electrified Edward
and Sampson with the news. " Oh, promise me
not to betray him !" she cried.
"Hut!" said the doctor, starting to his feet,
" what should we betray him for ? I'll cure him
for you. I can cure any lunatic that has lucid
intervals. Where is he?"
" Follow me, " gasped Julia. * * Stay. Ill get
rid of the servants first. I'll not play the* fool,
and betray him to his enemies. " She sent Sarah
eastward, and Jane westward, and then led the
way through the kitchen door into the yard.
They all searched about, and found nothing.
Then Julia begged them to be silent. She whis-
pered, "Alfred!" And instantly a faint voice
issued from the top of a wagon laden with hay
and covered with a tarpaulin. "Julia I"
224
VERY HARD CASH.
They all stood staring.
"Who are those with you?" asked Alfred,
uneasily.
* * Only friends, dear ! Edward and Dr. Samp-
son."
*'Ned, old fellow!" groaned Alfred, "you
pulled me out of the fire; won't you help me
out of this? I think my leg is broken."
At this Julia wrung her hands, and Edward
ran into the house for his rope and threw it over
the wagon. He told Julia and Sampson to hold
on by one end, and seizing the other was up on
the wagon in a moment. He felt about till he
came to a protuberance; and that was Alfred
under the tarpaulin, in which he had cut breath-
ing-holes with his pen-knife. Edward sent Julia
in for a carving-knife, and soon made an enor-
mous slit: through this a well-known figure
emerged into the moonlight, and seemed won-
derfully tall to have been so hidden. His hands
being uninjured, he easily descended the rope,
and stood on one leg holding it. Then Samp-
son and Edward put each an arm under his, and
helped him into the house.
After the body the mind. That is the rule
throughout creation. They examined, not his
reason, but his leg. Julia stood by with clasped
hands, and a face beaming with pity and anxi-
ety that repaid his pain. Sampson announced
there were no bones broken, but a bad sprain,
and the limb very red and swollen. " Now," in-
quired he briskly of the company, "what is the
practice in sprains? Why, leeches and cold
water."
Edward offered at once to run and get them.
"Are ye mad?" was the reply. "Daun't I
tell ye that is the practice f And isn't the prac-
tice sure to be th' opposite of the remedy ? So
get water as hot as he can bear it, and no
leeches."
Julia remonstrated angrily. " Is this a case
for jesting?"
"Deevil a jest in it," replied the doctor.
"Well, then, if ye must know, th* opera-dancers
apply hot water to sprains : now what is their
interest ? t' expedite the cure. And the faculty
apply cold water: and what is their interest?
to procrastinate the cure, and make a long job
of it. So just hold your tongues, and ring for
hot water."
Julia did not ring ; she beckoned Edward,
and they flew out and soon brought a foot-pan
of hot water. Edward then removed Alfred's
shoes and stockings, and Julia bared her lovely
arms, and blushed like a'rose.
Alfred divined her intention. "Dear Julia,"
he said, " I won't let you: that is too high an
honor. Sarah can do that."
But Julia's blood was up. "Sarah?" said
she, contemptuously; "she is too heavy-hand-
ed : and ^hold your tongue ; I don't take my
orders from you ;" then more humbly to the doc-
tor, "I am a district visitor: I nurse all manner
.of strangers, and he says I must leave his poor
suffering leg to the servants."
"Unnatural young monster," said the doctor,
affecting horror. " G'im a good nip."
Julia followed this advice by handling Al-
fred's swollen ankle with a tenderness so exqui-
site, and pressing it with the full sponge so softly,
that her divine touch soothed him as much or
more than the water. After nursing him into
the skies a minute or two, she looked up blush-
ing in his face, and said, coaxingly, "Are you
mad, dear Alfred ? Don't be afraid to tell us
the truth ! The madder you are the more you
need me to take care of you, you know."
Alfred smiled at this sapient discourse, and
said he was not the least mad, and hoped to take
care of her as soon as his ankle was well enough.
This closed that sweet mouth of hers exceeding
tight, and her face was seen no more for a while,
but hid by bending earnestly over her work;
only as her creamy poll turned pink the color
of that hidden face was not hard to divine.
Then Edward asked Alfred how in the world
he had escaped and got into that wagon. The
thing was incredible. "Mirawculous," said Dr.
Sampson in assent.
"No," said Alfred, " it looks stranger to you
than it is. The moment I found my pistol was
gone I determined to run. I looked down and
saw a spout with a great ornamental mouth, al-
most big enough to sit on; and, while I was
looking greedily at it, three horses came into
the yard drawing a load of hay. The wagoner
was busy clearing the pavement with his wheel,
and the wagon almost stopped a moment right
under me. There was a lot of loose hay on the
top. I let myself down, and hung by the spout
a moment, and then leaped on to the loose hay.
Unfortunately there were the hard trusses be-
neath it, and so I got my sprain. Oh, I say,
didn't it hurt ? However, I crept under the hay
and hid myself, and saw Wolf's men come into
the yard. By-and-by a few drops of rain feU, .
and some fellows chucked down a tarpaulin from
the loft, and nearly smothered me : so I cut a
few air-holes with my pen-knife. And there I
lay. Heaven knows how long: it seemed two
days. At last I saw an angel at a window ; I
called her by the name she bears on earth : to
my joy she answered, and here I am, as happy
as a prince among you all, and devilish hun-
gry."
"What a muff I was not to think of that,"
said Edward, and made for the larder.
" Dear doctor," said Julia, lifting a Madonna-
like face with swimming eyes, "I see no change
in him : he is very brave, and daring, and saucy.
But so he always was. To be sure he says ex-
travagant things, and stares one out of counte-
nance with his eyes : well, and so he always did
ever since / knew him."
"Mayn't I even look my gratitude?" whined
Alfred.
" Yes, but you need not stare it."
" It's your own fault, Miss Julee," said Samp-
son. "While ye're fomenting his sprain the
creature's fomenting his own insensate passion.
Break every bone in a puppy's body, and it's a
puppy still ; and it doesn't do to spoil puppies :
as ye're spoiling this one. Nlist me, ye vagabin.
Take your eyes off the lady; and look me in
the face if ye can ; and tell me how you came
to leave us all in the lurch on your wedding
mom."
Julia fired up. "It was not his fault, poor
thing : he was decoyed away after that misera-
ble money. Ah, you may laugh at me for hat-
ing money ; but have I not good reason to hate
it?"
"Whist, whist^ y* impetuous cracter; and let
him tell his own tale,"
VERY HARD CASH.
Alfred, thns invited, deliyered one of his calm,
laminoos statements ; which had hitherto been
listened to so coldly by one official after anoth-
er. Bat the effect was mighty different, falling
now on folk not paid to pity. As for Dr. Samp-
son, he bonilced up very early in the narrative,
and went striding np and down the room ; he
was pale with indignation ; and his voice trem-
bled with emotion, and every now and then he
broke in on the well-governed narrative with
oaths and curses, and observations of this kii/d :
** Why dinnt ye kill um ? I'd have killed um.
I*d just have taken the first knife and killed um.
Man, our Liberty is Our Life. Dith to whoever
attacks it!"
And so Edward, coming in with Alfred's din-
ner on a tray, found the soi-disant maniac de-
livering his wrongs with the lofty serenity of an
ancient philosopher discussing the wrongs of an-
other, Julia crying furtively into the tub, and
the good physician trampling and raving about
the room, like what the stoical narrator was ac-
cused of being. Edward stopped and looked at
them all over the tray. "Well," said he, "if
there's a madman in the room, it is not Hardie.
Ahem.'*
"Madman? ye young ijjit," roared the doc-
tor; " he is no madder than I am."
"Heaven forbid," said Alfred, dryly.
"No madder than you are, ye young Pump.'*
This to Edward. " That's an ungenerous skit
on his profession," said the maniac.
'^Be quiet now, chattering," said the excited
doctor ; "I tell ye ye niver were mad, and niver
will be. It's just the most heartless imposture,
the most rascally fraud, I've ever caught the
Mad Ox out in. I'll expose it. Gimme pnink-
papr. Man, they'll take y' again if we dbn't
mind. But I'll stop that : these ineequities can
only be done in the dark. I'll shed the light of
day on 'em. Eat your dinner, and hold your
tougue a minute if ye can." The doctor had
always a high sense of Alfred's volubility.
He went to work, and soon produced a letter
headed * ^ private mad-houses." In this he re-
lated pithily Alfred's incarceration, and the pres-
ent attempt to recapture him, with the particu-
lars of his escape. " That will interest th' en-
emy," said he, dryly. He vouched for Alfred's
sanity at both dates, and pledged himself to
swear to it in a court of law. He then inquired
what it availed to have sent one king to Phalaris
and another to Versailles in defense of our Lib-
erty, since after all that liberty lies groveling at
the mercy of Dr. Pill-box and Mr. Sawbones,
and a single designing relative. Then he drew
a strong picture of this free-born British citizen
skulking and hiding at this moment from a gang
of rogues and conspirators, who, in France and
other civilized countries that brag less of liberty
than we do, would be themselves flying as crim-
inals from the officers of justice; and he wound
up with a strong appeal to the press to cast its
shield over the victim of bad laws and foul prac-
tices. "In England," said he, "Justice is the
daughter of Publicity. Throughout the world
deeds of villainy are done every day in kid gloves ;
but with us, at all events, they have to be done
on the sly : here lies our true moral eminence
as a nation. Butter then your ' fiat lux.' Cast
the full light of publicity on this dark villainy,
and behold it will wither, and your oppressed |
and injured fellow-citizen be safe from that very
hour."
He signed and read it out to them, or rather
roared it. But he had written it so well ho
could not make it bad by delivery. Indeed, ho
was a masterly writer of English, you must know.
Julia was delighted; but Alfred shook his head.
"The editor will not put it in."
" Th* editor I D'ye think I'm so green as to
trust t' any one editor? D'ye think I have
lived all these years and not learned what poor
cowardly things men are ? Moral courage I where
can you find it? Except in the dickshinary?
Few to the world their honest thoughts avow ;
the groveler, policy, robs justice now,
And none but Sampson dai'es to lift a hand
Against the d d corruption of the laud.
Now, lad, I'm off to my printer with this. They
are working night and day just now : there will
be two hundred copies printed in half an hour."
"And me, doctor!" said Julia. "Am poor
I to have no hand in it? How cruel of you.
Oh pray, pray, prav let me help a little."
"Put on your bonnet, then^ this minute,"
said he : "in war never lose a minute."
"But I am so afraid they may be lying in
wait for him outside."
" Then we'll give them a good hiding: there
are three of us ; all good men and stanch," said
the indomitable doctor.
"No, no," said the pugnacious Alfred. "Julia
does not like fighting ; I heard her screaming
all the time I was defending myself on tho
stairs : let us be prudent : let us throw dust in
their eyes. Put me on a bonnet and cloak."
"And a nice little woman you'll make, yo
fathouh"
" Oh, I can stoop to conquer.'*
Julia welcomed this plan almost with glee,
and she and Edward very soon made i. hand-
some, brazen - looking trollop six feet high.
Then it had to stoop, and Edward and Julia
helped it out to the carriage, under the very
noses of a policeman and a keeper, who were
watching for Alfred: seeing which oh frailty
of woman! the district visitor addressed it
aloud as her aunt, and begged it to take care :
which she afterward observed was acting a false-
hood, and *^ where Was her Christianity?"
Alfred was actually not recognized : the car-
riage bowled away to the great printing-house ;
it was on that side the water. The foreman en-
tered into the thing with spirit, and divided the
copy, small as it was, among two or three com-
positors : so a rough proof was ready in an in-
credibly short time: the doctor corrected it; and
soon they began to work off the copies. The
foreman found them Mitchell's newspaper list,
and envelopes by the hundred, and while the
copies were pouring in, all han(^ were folding
and addressing them to the London and pro-
vincial editors. The office lent the stamps.
The. doctor drove Alfred to his own lodgings,
and forbade him to reappear in Pembroke Street
until the letter should come out in the London
journals.
That night the letters were all posted, and at
daybreak were flying north, south, east, and
west. In the aflernoon the letter came out in
four London evenllig papers, and the next morn-
ing the metropolis and the whole kingdom were
226
VERY HABD CASH.
ringing with them, and the full blaze of pub-
licity burst upon this dark deed.
Ay, stout Sampson, well you knew mankind,
and well you knew the nation you lived in.
Richard Hardie, in the very act of setting de-
tectives to find Alfred's lurking-place, ran his
nose against this letter in the Globe. He col-
lapsed at the sight of it ; and wrote directly to
Dr. Wolf inclosing it, and saying that it would
be unadvisable to make any fresh attempt. His
letter was crossed by one from Dr. Wolf, con-
taining Sampson's thunder-bolt extracted from
the Sim, and saying that no earthly consideration
should induce him to meddle with Alfred now,
Richard Hardie flung himself into the train, and
went down to his brother at Clare Court.
He was ill at ease. He felt like some great
general, who has launched many attacks against
the foe, very successful at first, then less suc-
cessful, then repulsed with difficulty, then re-
pulsed with ease, till at last the foe stands before
him impregnable. Then he feels that ere long
that iron enemy will attack him in turn, and
that he, exhausted by his own onslaughts, must
defend himself how he can. Yet there was a
pause; he passed a whole quiet peaceful day
with his brother, assuring him that the affair
would go no farther on either side ; but in his
secret soul he felt this quiet day was but the
ominous pause between two great battles; one
of the father against the son, the other of the
son against the father.
And he was right : the very next day the late
defender attacked, and in earnest. But for cer-
tain reasons I prefer to let another relate it :
Hardie v. Hardie.
"Dear Sir, If you had been in my office
when I received your favor of yesterday relating
deft.'s ruffian-like assault, you would have seen
the most ridiculous sight in nature, videlicet,
an attorney in a passion. I threw professional
courtesy to the winds, and sent Colls off to Clare
Court to serve the writ personally. Next day
he found the deft, walking in his garden with
Mr. Richard Hardie. Havingjearned from the
servant which was his man, he stepped up and
served copy of the writ in the usual way. Deft,
turned pale, and his knees knocked together,
and Colls thinks he mistook himself for a felon,
and was going to ask for mercy, but Mr. Rich-
ard stopped him, and said his attorney was
Messrs. Heathfield, in Chancery Lane ; and was
this the way Mr. Compton did business? serv-
ing a writ personally on a gentleman in weak
health. So Colls, who can sneer in his quiet
way, told him * No,* but the invalid had declined
to answer my letter, and the invalid had made a
violent attack upon our client's person, avoid-
ing his attorney, 'so, as his proceedings are sum-
mary, we m^t him in kind,' says little Colls.
*Oho,' says Mr. Richard, 'you are a wit, are
you? Come and have some luncheon.' This
was to get him away from the weaker brother, I
take it. He gave Colls an excellent luncheon,
and some admirable conversation on policy and
finance: and, when he was going,* says this
agreeable host, * Well, Mr. , you have had
your belljrful of chicken and Madeira ; and your
client shall have his bellyful of law.' And this
Colls considers emphatic but coarse.
"J am yours, faithfully, John Compton.
"P.S. Colls elicited that no farther attempt
will be made to capture you. It seems some
injudicious friend of yours has been writing to
the newspapers. Pray stop that."
Qn receiving this letter, Alfred bought anoth-
er double pistol, loaded it, hired a body-guard
of two prize-fighters, and with these at his heels
repaired to 66 Pembroke Street. No enemy
was near: the press had swept the street alike
of keepers and police with one Briarean gesture.
He found Julia and Edward in great anxiety
about their father. The immediate cause was a
letter from Mrs. Dodd, which Edward gave him
to read : but not till he had first congratulated
him heartily on the aegis of the press being
thrown over him. " The 'Tiser has a leader on
it," said he.
Mrs. Dodd's letter ran thus :
" My dear dear Children, I am coming
home to you heart-broken, without your poor
father. I saw an East Indian ship go to sea,
and some instinct whispered, suppose he should
be on board that ship! But, foolishly, I did
not utter my thoughts : because they call these
instincts women's fancies. But now even Mr.
Green thinks he is gone to sea, as the town has
been ransacked, and no trace of him can we
find. I met my cousin. Captain Bazalgette,
, here, and he is promoted to the Vulture frigate,
and sails to-day. I have told him all our mis-
I fortimes, and he has promised to overhaul that
merchant ship if he comes up with her : but I
can see by the way his eye shuns mine he has no
real hopes. His ship is the swifter, but he may
pass her in the night. And then he is bound
for New Zealand, not India. I told Reginald
my poor husband's expression of face is altered
by his affliction, and that he takes himself for a
common sailor, and has his medal still round
his neck. Our cousin is very kind, and will do
all he can. God can protect my darling at sea,
as he has ashore : and in his power alone have
I any trust. Any further stay here is vain : my
heart, too, yearns for my other treasures, ana ,
dreads lest while I am here, and because I am
here, some evil should befall you too. Expect
me soon after this letter, and let us try and
comfort one another under this the heaviest of
all our many troubles.
** With sad heart, I am,
"Both my darlings' loving mother and friend,
" Lucy Dodd."
In the discussion of this letter Alfred betrayed
a slight defect of character. He pooh-poohed
the calamity: said David had now a chance,
and a good one, of being cured : whereas con-
finement was one of the common causes of in-
sanity even in sane persons. And he stoutly
maintained that David's going to sea was a
happy inspiration. Edward colored, but deigned
no reply. Julia was less patient, and though
she was too loving and too womanly to tell Al-
fred to his face he was deceiving himself and
arguing thus indirectly to justify himself in
taking her father out of the asylum at all, yet
she saw it, and it imparted a certain coldness
into her replies. Alfred noticed this, and be-
came less confident and louder, and prodigious-
ly logical.
He was still flowing on with high imperioos
VERY HARD CASH.
227
voice, which I suppose overpowered the sound
of Mrs. Dodd's foot, when she entered suddenly,
pale and weary, in her traveling-dress.
Alfred stopped, and they all started to their
feet.
At sight of Alfred she stood dumbfoundered
a single moment ; then uttered a faint shriek ;
and looked at him -with unutterable terror.
He stood disconcerted.
Julia ran, and, throwing her arms round Mrs.
Dodd*s neck, entreated her not to be afraid of
him : he was not mad ; Dr. Sampson said so.
Edward confirmed her words; and then Julia
poured out the story of his wrongs with great
gushes of natural eloquence that might have
melted a rock, and, as anti-climax is part of a
true woman, ended innocently by begging her
mother not to look so unkindly at him ; and his
ankle so sprained, and him in such pain. For
the first time in her life Mrs. Dodd was deaf
to her daughter's natural eloquence ; it was re-
markable how little her countenance changed
while Julia appealed; she stood looking askant
with horror at Alfred all through that gentle,
eloquent appeal. But nevertheless her conduct
showed she had heard every word : as soon as
ever her daughter's voice stopped she seemed
to dilate bodily, and moved toward Alfred pale
and lowering. Yes, for once this gentle, quiet
lady looked terrible. She confronted Alfred.
**Is this true. Sir?" said she, in a low, stern
voice. " Are you not insane ? Have you never
been bereft of your reason ?"
** No, Mrs. Dodd, I have not."
" Then what have you done with my hus-
band, Sib?"
CHAPTER L.
It was a thunder-bolt. Alfred hung his head,
and said, humbly, "I did but go up stairs for
one moment to wash my hands for dinner ; and
he was gone.'*
Mrs. Dodd went on in her low stem voice,
almost as if he had not answered her at all :
"By what right did you assume the charge of
him ? Did I authorize you to take him from the
place where he was safe, and under my eye ?"
Alfred replied sullenly: **He was not very
safe, for he was almost burned to death. The
fire liberated him, not I. After the fire I ran
away from him : he followed me ; and then what
could I do ? I made the best of it : and gave
up my own desires to try and cure him. He
longed for the sea : I tried to indulge him : I
hoped to bring him back to you sane : but fate
was against me. I am the most unfortunate of
men."
**Mr. Hardie," said Mrs. Dodd, "what you
have done was the act of a madman : and, if I
believed you to be any thing but a madman, the
sight of you would be intolerable to me ; for you
have made me a widow, and my children or-
phans."
With this she gave a great shudder, and re-
tired in tears.
Alfred rose, pale and defiant. "That is her
notion of justice,!' said he, bitterly; "pray is it
yours, you two ?"
" Well, since you ask my opinion," said Ed-
ward, "I think it was very presumptuous of you
to undertake the care of my father : and, having
undertaken it, you ought not to have left him a
moment out of your sight."
"Oh, that is your opinion, is it? And you,
dear Julia?"
Julia made no reply, but hid her face in her
hands and sighed deeply.
" I see, " said Alfred, sorrowfully. * * Even you
are against me at heart. You judge by the event,
not the motive. There is no justice in this world
for me. I'm sick of life. I have no right to
keep the mistress of the house out of her own
room : there, I'll go : my heart is broken. No
it is not, and never shall be, by any thing that
breathes. Thank Heaven I have got one friend
left in this bitter world : and I'll make her the
judge whether I have deserved this last injustice.
I'll go to my sister."
He jumped up and hobbled slowly across the
room, while Julia and Edward sat chilled to the
bone by those five little words, so simple, so
natural, yet so incredible, and to the hearers so
awful. They started, they shuddered, they sat
petrified, staring at him, while he hobbled across
the room to go to his sister.
As he opened the door to go out he heard stout
Edward groan and Julia utter a low wail. But
of course he had no idea what it meant. He
hobbled down a stair or two. But, ere he had
gone far, there was a hasty whispering in the
drawing-room, and Edward came after him in
great agitation, and begged him to return ; Julia
must speak with him. He turned ; and his face
brightened. Edward saw that, and turned his
own face away and stammered out, "Forget
what I said to you. I am your friend, and al-
ways must be for her sake. No, no, I can not
come in there with you; I'll go and comfort mam
ma. Hardie, old fellow, we are very unhappy,
all of us. We are too unhappy to quarrel."
These kind words soothed Alfred's sore heart.
He brightened up and entered the drawing-room.
He found Julia standing in the middle of it, the
color of ashes. Alfred was alarmed. " You are
unwell, dearest," he cried; "you will faint.
What have I done with my ungoverned tem-
per ?" He moved toward her with a face full of
concern.
"No, Alfred," said she, solemnly, "I am not .
ill. It is sorrow, deep sorrow for one I love
better than all the world. Sit down beside me,
my poor Alfred ; and oh God help me to speak
to him !"
Alfred began to feel dire misgivings.
"Yes," said she, "I love you too well to let
any hand but mine wound you." And here she
took his sinewy hand with her soft palm. " I
want to soften it in the telling : and ah, how can
I ? Oh, why can I not throw myself body and
soul between you and all trouble, all sorrow ?"
" My Julia," said Alfred, gravely, * * something
has happened to Jane."
" Yes, Alfred. She met with a terrible acci-
dent."
"Ah!"
"She was struck by an unfortunate man ; he
was not in his right mind'."
"Struck? My sister struck. What, was
there no man by ?"
"No. Edward nearly killed the man after-
ward."
"God bless hhn."
VERY HARD CASH.
** Oh, Alfied, be patient. It was too late."
* What, is she hurt serionslj ? Is she disfig-
ured?"
**No, Alfred," said Julia, solemnly; "she is
not disfigured : oh, far from that."
"Julia, you alarm me. This comes of shut-
ting her brother up. May Heaven's eternal curse
light on those who did it. My poor little sister!
How you weep, Julia ! My heart is lead."
"I weep for you, darling; not for her."
*'Ah, that is how they talk when those we
love are One word I I shall never see my
poor little Jenny again; shall I?"
" Yes, Alfred : if you will but follow her steps
and believe in Him who soothed her last hour,
and made her face shine with joy like an angel's
while we all wept around ; oh dear, oh dear, oh
dear, he said he had but one true friend in the
world. Alas ! it is so ; you have but me now,
who pity you and love you more than* heart can
utter ; my own, my beloved, my bereaved."
What could soften such a shock as this ? It
fell, and his. anguish was frightful, all the more
so that he ascril^d the calamity to his imprison-
ment, and mingled curses and threats of venge-
ance with his bursts of grief. He spurned the
consolations of religion : he said heaven was as
unjust as earth, as cruel as hell.
She cried out, and stopped his mouth with her
hand : she almost forced him to kneel beside her;
and prayed aloud for him : and when at last his
riy found vent in tears, she put her innocent
s round his neck and wept for him.
Every now and then the poor fellow would al-
most shriek with remorse. "Oh, if I had only
been kinder to her I if I had but been kinder to
her!"
"You were kind to her," said Julia, softly,
but firmly.
"No, no ; I was always sneering at her. And
why ? 1 knew her religion was sincere : but my
little mind fixed on a few phrases she had pick-
ed up from others, and I " He could say no
more, but groaned with anguish ; and let his re-
morse be a caution to us all. Bereaved we all
must be, who live on and on : but this, bereave-
ment's bitterest drop, we may avoid.
"Alfred," said Julia, "do not torment your-
self. We girls care little aboat a few sarcasms ;
it is the cold heart that wounds us. You loved
Jane, and she knew it well, and joyed in it.
You were kinder to her than you think, and so
her dying thoughts were for you. It was for
you she asked, and made your father send for
you, and poor I hoped you would come. And,
dearest, her last act was to write a few words to
you, and trust them to her who she knew loved
you better than heart can utter. Since it was
her wish, let us try and read them together, the
last words of a saint (I have never seen them),
and, if they do not prove words of love, then I
will let you think you were not a good brother
to her you and I, and poor, poor Edward have
lost."
He made a sad sign of assent ; and Julia rose
and got the inclosure. But, as Jane's last-writ-
ten words reappeared on the scene in a some-
what remarkable way, I will only say here, that
both these poor young things tried in vain to
read them, and both in turn burst out sobbing,
so that they could not : so they held the paper,
and tried to see the words out of their stream-
ing eyes. And these two mourners had the
room to themselves till midnight ; for even Mrs.
Dodd's hostility respected Alfred then, and as for
Julia, she was one of those who rise with the
occasion : she was half wife, half angel from
heaven to her bereaved lover through all those I
bitter hours.
CHAPTER LI.
No life was ever yet a plajr : I mean an un-
broken sequence of dramatic incidents. Calms
will come ; unfortunately for the readers, hap-
pily for the read. And I remember seeing it ob-
jected to novelists, by a young gentleman just
putting his foot for the first time into "Criti-
cism," that the writers aforesaid suppress the
small intermediate matters which m real life
come by the score between each brilliant event,
and so present the ordinary and the extraordi-
nary parts of life in false proportions. Now, if
this remark had been ofiiered by way of contrast
between events themselves and all mortal at-
tempts to reproduce them upon paper or the
stage, it would have been philosophical; but it
was a strange error to denounce the practice as
distinctive of fiction: for it happens to be the
one trait the novelist and dramatist have in
common with the evangelist. The gospels skip
fifteen years of the most interesting life Creation
has witnessed, relating Christ's birth in full, and
hurrying from his boyhood to the more stirring
events of his thirtieth and subsequent years.
And all the inspired histories do much the same-
thing. The truth is, that epics, dramas, novels,
histories, chronicles, reports of trials at law, in
a word, all narratives true or fictitious, except
those which true or fictitious nobody reads,
abridge the uninteresting facts as Nature never
did, and dwell as Nature never did on the in-
teresting ones.
Can nothing, however, be done to restore, in
the reader's judgment, that just balance of " the
sensational" and "the soporific," which all writ-
ers, that have readers, disturb? Nothing I
think without his own assistance. But surely
something with it. And, therefore, I throw
myself on the intelligence of my readers ; and
ask them to realize, that henceforth pages are
no measure of time, and that to a year big with
strange events, on which I have therefore dilated
in this story, succeeded a year in which few
brilliant things happened to the personages of
this tale : in short, a year to be skimmed by as
chronicler or novelist, and yet (mind you) a year
of three hundred and sixty-five days six hours,
or thereabouts, and one in which the quiet, un-
obtrusive troubles of our friends' hearts, espe-
cially the female hearts, their doubts, divisions,
distresses, did not remit, far from it. Now
this year I propose to divide into topics, and
go by logical, rather than natural sequence of
events.
The Lovebs.
Alfred came every day to see Julia, and Mrs.
Dodd invariably left the room at his knock.
At last Julia proposed to Alfred not to come
to the house for the present ; but to accompany
her on her rounds as district visitCMr. To see ana
soothe the bitter calamities of the poor had done
VERY HARD CASH.
her own heart good in its worst distress, and she
desired to apply the same medicine to her be-
loved, who needed it: that was one thing: and
then another was, that she found her own anger
rising when her mother left the room at that
beloved knock : and to be angry with her poor
widowed mother was a sin. ** She ik as unfor-
tunate as I am happy," thought Julia; ''I have
got mine back.'*
Alfred assented to this arrangement with rath-
er an ill grace. He misunderstood Julia, and
thought she was sacrificing him to what he
called her mother's injustice. This indeed was
the interpretation any man would have been
pretty sure to put on it. His soreness, however,
did not go very far ; because she was so kind
and good to him when they were together. He
used to escort her back to the door of 66 : and
look imploringly ; but she never asked him in.
He thought her hard for this. He did not see
the tears that flowed for that mute look of his
the moment the door was closed ; tears she inno-
cently restrained for fear the sight of them should
make him as unhappy as his imploring look
made her. Mauvais calcul ! She should have
cried right out. When we men are unhappy,
we like our sweet-hearts to be unhappier ; that
consoles us.
But when this had gone on nearly a month,
and no change, Alfred lost patience : so he lin-
gered one day at the door to make a request.
He asked Julia to marry him, and so put an
end to this state of things.
"Marry you, child?" cried Julia, blushing
like a rose with surprise and pleasure. "Oh,
for shame !"
After the first thrill, she appealed to his can-
dor whether that would not be miserably selfish
of her to leave her poor mother in her present
distressed condition. "Oh, Alfred, so pale, so
spiritless, and inconsolable! My poor, poor
mother!"
"You will have to decide between us two one
day."
"Heaven forbid!" said Julia, turning pale at
the very idea. But he repeated doggedly that
it must come to that, sooner or later. Then
he reminded her of their solemn engagement,
and put it to her whether it was a moral pro-
ceeding in her to go back from her plighted
troth ? What had he done to justify her in draw-
ing back from her word? *^I admit," said he,
"that I have suffered plenty for your sake : but
what have I done ?"
Undeterred by the fear of immorality, the
monotonous girl had but one reply to his multi-
form reasons : " This is no time for me to aban-
don my mother."
"Ah, it is her you love; you don't care for
me," snapped Alfred.
"Don't I, dear Alfred?" murmured Julia.
" Forgive me ! I'm a ruffian a wretch."
"You are my Alfred. But oh, have a little
patience, dear!"
"A little patience? I have the patience of
Job." But even his went at last.
[I ought to have said they were in the pas-
sage now. The encroaching youth had gained
an entrance by agitating her so at the door that
she had to ask him in to hide her own blushes
from the public] She now gently reminded
him how much happier they were than they had
been for months. "Dear me," said she, "I
am almost happy : happier than I ought to be ;
could be quite so, but that I see you discon-
tented."
" Ah, you have so many about you that you
love : I have only you."
"And that is true, my poor Alfred."
This softened him a little ; and then she in-
terwove her fingers together, and so put both
palms softly on his shoulder (you never saw a
male do that, and never will), and implored him
to be patient, to be generous. " Oh," said she,
"if you knew the distress it gives me to refuse
to you any thing on earth, you would be gener-
ous, and not press me when my heart says 'yes'
but my lips must say * no.' "
This melted him altogether, and he said he
would not torment her any more.
But he went away discontented with himself
for having yielded: my lord did not call it
"yielding," but "being defeated." And as he
was not only very deep in love, but by nature
combative, he took a lodging nearly opposite
No. 66, and made hot love to her, as hot as if the
attachment was just forming. Her mother could
not go out but he was at the door directly : she
could not go out but he was at her heels. Xhis
pleased her at first, and thrilled her with the
sense of sweet and hot pursuit : but, by-and-by,
situated as she was between him and her mo-
*ther, it worried her a little at times, and made
her nervous. She spoke a little sharply to him
now and then. And that it was new. It came
from the nerves, not the heart. At last she ad-
vised him to go back to Oxford. "I shall be
the ruin of your mind if we go on like this," said
she, sadly.
"What, leave the field to my rivals? No,
thank you."
" What rivals. Sir ?" asked Julia, drawing up.
"Your mother, your brother, your curates
that would come buzzing the moment I left;
your sick people, who bask on your smiles and
your sweet voice till I envy them ; Sarah, whom
you permit to brush your lovely hair, the piano
you play on, the air you deign to breathe and
brighten, every body and every thing that is near
you ; they are all my rivals ; and shall I resign
you to them, and leave myself desolate ? I'm
not such a fool."
She smiled, and could not help feeling it was
sweet to be pestered. So she said with matron-
ly dignity, and the old Julian consistency, " You
are a foolish, impetuous boy. You are the
plague of my life, and the sun of my existence."
That passed off charmingly. But presently his
evil genius prompted Alfred to endeavor to soft-
en Mrs. Dodd by letter, and induce her to con-
sent to his marriage with her daughter.
He received her answer at breakfast-time. It
was wonderfully polite and cold; Mrs. Dodd
feigned unmixed surprise at the proposal, and
said that insanity being unfortunately in her
own family, and the suspicion of insanity rest-
ing on himself, such a union was not to be
thought of; and therefore, notwithstanding her
respect for his many good qualities, she must
decline with thanks the honor he offered her.
She inserted a poisoned sting by way of post-
script. "When you succeed in publicly remov-
ing the impression your own relations share with
me, and when my husband owes his restoration
280
VERY HARD CASH.
to yoa, instead of his destruction, of course you
will receive a very different answer to your pro-
posal should you then think it consistent with
your dignity to renew it."
As hostile testators used to leave the disinher-
ited one shilling, not out of a shilling's worth of
kindly feeling, hut that he might not he able to
say his name was omitted through inadvertency,
so Mrs. Dodd inserted this postscript merely to
clench the nail and tantalize her enemy. It was
a master-piece of feminine spite.
She would have been not a little surprised
could she have seen how Alfred received her mis-
sive.
He sat in a cold stupor of dejection for a good
half hour.
Then he lifted up his head, and said, quietly,
"1*11 get the trial over, and my sanity estab-
lished, as soon as possible : and then I'll hire a
yacht and hunt her husband till I find him."
Having settled this little plan he looked out
for Julia, whose sympathy he felt in need of after
such a stem blow.
She came out much later than usual that day;
for, to tell the truth, her mother had detained
her to show her Alfred's letter, and her answer.
"Ah, mamma," said poor Julia, "you don't love
me as you did once. Poor Alfred !"
Mrs. Dodd sighed at this reproach, but said
she did not deserve it. No mother in her senses
would consent to such a match.
Julia bowed her head submissively, and went
to her duties. But when Alfred came to her
opened-mouthed to complain of her mother's
cruelty, she stopped him at once, and asked
him how he could go and write that foolish, un-
reasonable letter. Why had he not consulted
her first? "You have subjected yourself to a
rebuflf," said she, angrily, "and one from which
I should have saved you. Is it nothing that
mamma, out of pity to me, connives at our
meeting and spending houi-s together ? Do you
think she does no violence to. her own wishes
here ? and is she to meet with no return ?"
"What, are you against me too?" said poor
Alfred.
"No, it is you, who are our enemy with your
unreasonable impatience." .
"I am not so cold-blooded as you are, cer-
tainly."
"Humility and penitence would become you
better than to retort on me ; I love you both, and
pray God on my knees to show me how to do my
duty to both."
"That is it; you are not single-hearted like
me. You want to please all the world, and recr
oncile the irreconcilable. It won't do : you will
have to choose between your mother and me at
last."
" Then of course I should choose my mother."
"Why?"
"Because she claims my duty as well as my
love ; because she is bowed down with sorrow,
and needs her daughter just now more than you
do ; because you are my other self, and we must
deny ourselves."
"We have no more right to be unjust to our-
selves than to any body else : injustice is injus-
tice."
"Alfred, you are a high-minded Heathen,
and talk Morality. Morality is a snare. What
I pray to be is a Christian, as your dear sister
was, and to deny itryself ; and you make it, oh,
so difficult."
" So I suppose it will end in turning out your
heathen and then taking your curate. Your mo-
ther would consent to that directly."
"Alfred," said Julia, with dignity, "these
words are harsh, and, forgive me for saying so,
they are coarse. Such words would separate us
two, without my mother, if I were to hear many
of them ; for they take the bloom off affection,
and that mutual respect without which no gen-
tleman and ladv could be blessed in holy wed-
lock."
Alfred was staggered and mortified too : they
walked on in silence now.
"Alfred," said Julia, at last, "do not think
me behind you in afiection, but wiser, for once,
and our best friend. I do think we had better
see less of one another for a time, my poor Al-
fred."
"And why for a time? why not forever?"
"If your heart draws no distinction, why not,
indeed ?"
" So be it then ; for I will be no woman's slave.
There's my hand, Julia : let us part friends."
"Thank you for that, dear Alfred : may you
find some one who can love you more ^than I
do."
The words choked her. But he was stronger,
because he was in a passion. He reproached her
bitterly. "If I had been as weak and incon-
stant as you are, I might have been out of Dray-
ton House long before I did escape. But I was
faithful to my one love. I have some right to
sing Aileen Aroon; you have none. You are an
angel of beauty and goodness; you will go to
Heaven, and I shall go to the devil now for want
of you. But then you have no constancy nor
true fidelity: so that has parted us, and now
nothing is left me but to try and hate yod.'*
He turned furiously on his heel.
" God bless you, go where you will," faltered
Julia.
He replied with a fierce ejaculation of despair,
and dashed away.
Thus temper and sexual misunderstanding
triumphed, after so many strange and bitter trials
had failed.
CHAPTER LH.
Both the parted lovers were wretched. Ju-
lia never complained, but drooped, and read the
Psalms, and Edward detected her in tears over
them. He questioned her, and obtained a lame
account ; she being more bent on screening Al-
fred than on telling the truth.
So he called on the other ; and found him dis-
consolate, and reading a Heathen philosopher
for comfort, and finding none. Edward ques-
tioned him, and he was reserved, and even sulky.
Sir Imperturbable persisted quietly, and he ex-
ploded, and out came his wrongs. Edward said
he was a pretty fellow : and wanted it all his
own way. ^ " Suppose my mother, with her pres-
ent feelings, was to take a leaf out of your book,
and use all her power ; where would you be then ?
Come, old fellow, I know what love is, and one
of us shall have the girl he loves, unless any
harm should come to my poor father owing to
your blunder -oh, that would put it out of the
VERY HABD CASH.
question, I feel but let ns hope better. I pulled
you out of the fire, and somehow I seem to like
you better than ever after that ; let me pull you
out of this mess too."
"Pull away," cried the impetuous youth.
"I'll trust you with my life: ay, with more
than my life, with my love ; for you are the man
for me : reason is always uppermost with you :
Give me the man that is not passion's slave
And I will wear him in my heart's core, ay"
* * Oh, bother that. If you are in earnest, don't
mouth, but put on your hat and come over."
He assented ; but in the middle of putting on
his coat made this little observation: "Now I
see how wise the ancients were : yes, friendship
is better than love ; calmer, more constant, free
from thb heats and chills of that impetuous pas-
sion ; its pure bosom is ruffled by none of love's
jealousies and irritabilities. Solem e mundo
tollunt qui toUunt amicitiam."
" Oh, bother quoting ; come and shake hands
with Julia." They went over ; Mrs. Dodd was
in the City. Edward ushered in Alfred, saying,
" Here is the other Impetuosity ;" and sagely re-
tired for a few minutes: when he came back
they were sitting hand in hand, he gazing on her,
she inspecting the carpet. " That is all right,"
said Edward, dryly: "now the next thing is,
you must go back to Oxford directly, and read
for your first class."
The proposal fell like a blight upon the recon-
ciled lovers. But Edward gave potent reasons.
The delays of law were endless: Alfred's de-
fendant had already obtained one postponement
of the trial on frivolous grounds. Now the Ox-
ford examination and Doncaster races come on
at a fixed date, by a Law of Nature, and admit
of no " postponement swindle. " * ' You mark my
words, you will get your class before you will get
your trial, and it won't hujt you to go into court
a first-class man : will it? And then you won't
quarrel by letter, you two, I know. Come,
will you do what I tell you ? or is friendship but
a name ? eh, Mr. Bombast ?" He ended with
great though quiet force: "Come, you two,
which is better, to part like the scissors, or part
like the thread?"
Similes are no arguments ; and perhaps that is
why they convince people so. Alfred capitulated
to the scissors and thread ; and only asked with
abnormal humility to be allowed to taste the joys
of reconciliation for two days : the third found
him at Oxford ; he called on the head of his
college to explain what had prevented his return
to Exeter in the October term twelve months
ago, and asked for rooms. Instead of siding
with a man of his own college so cruelly injured,
the dignitary was alarmed by the bare accusa-
tion ; and said he must consider. Insanity was
a terrible thing.
" So is false accusation, and so is false impris-
onment," said Hardie, bitterly.
"Unquestionably. But I have at present no
means of deciding how far those words apply."
In short, he could give no answer ; must consult
the other officers, and would convey the restdt
by letter.
Alfred's pride was deeply. mortified, not less
by a certain cold repugnant manner than by the
words. And there came over his heart a sick-
ening feeling that he was now in the eyes of men
an intellectual leper.
He went to another college directly, and ap-
plied to the vice-president ; the vice-president
sent him with a letter to the dean ; the dean
looked frightened, and told him hesitatingly the
college was full ; he might put his name down,
and perhaps get in next year. Alfred retired,
and Ibamed from the porter that the college was
not full. He sighed deeply, and the sickening
feeling grew on him; an ineradicable stigma
seemed upon him, and Mrs. Dodd was no worse
than the rest of the world, then ; every mother
in England would approve her resolution. He
wandered about the scenes of his intellectual
triumphs. He stood in the great square of the
schools, a place ugly to unprejudiced eyes, but
withal somewhat grand and inspiring, especially
to scholars who have fought their keen, though
bloodless, battles there. He looked at the win-
dows and gilt inscription of the Schola Meta-
physices, in which be had met the scholars of
his day and defeated them for the Ireland. He
wandered into the theatre, and eyed the rostrum,
whence he had not mumbled, but recited, his
Latin prize poem with more than one thunder
of academic applause : thunder compared with
which Drury Lane's is a mere cracker. These
places were unchanged; but he, sad scholar,
wandered among them as if he was a ghost, and
all these were stony phantoms of an intellectual
past, never, never to return.
He telegraphed Sampson and Edward to fur-
nish him with certificates that he had never been
insane, but the victim of a foul conspiracy ; and,
when he received them, he went with them to
St. Margaret's Hall ; for he had bethought him
that the new principal was a first-rate man, and
had openly vowed he would raise that "refuge
for the oft-times plowed" to a place of learn-
ing.
Hardie called, sent in his card, and was ad'
mitted to the principal's study. He was about
to explain who he was,^when the doctor inter-
rupted him, and told him politely he knew him
by reputation. "Tell me rather," said hej
shrewdly, " to what I owe this application from
an undergraduate so distinguished as Mr. Har-
die?"
Then Alfred began to quake, and, instead of
replying, put a hand suddenly before his face and
lost courage for one moment.
"Come, Mr. Hardie," said the principal,
" don't be disconcerted : a fault regretted is half
atoned ; and I am not disposed to be hard-on
the errors of youth ; I mean where there is merit
to balance them."
" Sir," said Alfred, sadly, " it is not a fault I
have to acknowledge, but a misfortune."
"Tell me all about it," said Dr. Alder, guard-
edly.
He told it, omitting nothing essential that
could touch the heart or excite the ironical hu-
mor of an academician. .
"Well * truth is more wonderful than fic-
tion,'" said the doctor. And I conclude the
readers of this tale are all of the doctor's opin-
ion ; so sweet to the mind is cant.
Alfred offered his certificates.
Now Dr. Alder had been asking himself in
what phrases he should decline this young gen-
ins, who was sane now, but of course had been
mad, only had forgotten the circumstance. But
the temptation to get an Ireland scholar into his
232
VERT HARD CASH.
Hall suddenly overpowered him. The probabili-
ty that he might get a first-class in a lucid inter-
val was too enticing ; nothing venture, nothing
have. He determined to venture.
**Mr. Hardie," said he, "this house shall al-
ways be open to good morals and good scholar-
ship while I preside over it, and it shall be open
to them all the more when they come to me
dignified and made sacred by 'unmerited ca-
lamity.* "
Now this fine speech, like Minerva herself,
came from the head : Alfred was overcome by
it to tears. At that the doctor's heart was
touched, and even began to fancy it had origi-
nated that noble speech.
It was no use doing things by halves, so Dr.
Alder gave Alfred a delightful set of rooms, and
made the Hall pleasant to him. He was re-
warded by a growing conviction that he had
made an excellent acquisition. This opinion,
however, was any thing but universal : and Al-
fred, finding the men of his own college sus-
pected his sanity, and passed jokes behind his
back, cut them all dead, and confined himself
to his little Hall. There they petted him, and
crowed about him, and betted on him for the
schools as freely as if he was a colt the Hall was
going to enter for the Derby.
He read hard and judiciously, but without his
old confidence: he became anxious and doubt-
ful; he had seen so many first-rate men just
#)|s a first class. The brilliant creature ana-
#lyzed all his Aristotelian treatises, and wrote
the synopses clear with marginal references on
great pasteboard cards three feet by two, and so
kept the whole subject beforo his eye till he ob-
tained a singular mastery. Same system with
the historians : nor did he disSain the' use of col-
ored inks. Then the brilliant creature drew
lists of all the hard words he encountered in his
reading, especially in the common books, and
read these lists till mastered. The^ 8tike was
singularly heavy in his case, so he gnaxded every
crevice.
Apd at this period he was not so unhappy as
he expected. The laborious days went swiftly,
and twice a week at least came a letter from Ju-
lia. Oh how his grave academic room with
oaken panels did brighten when her letter lay
on the table ! It was opened, and seemed writ-
ten with sunbeams. No (Jtiarrels on paper ! Ab-
sence made the heart grow fonder. And Edward
came to see him, and over their wine let out a
feminine trait in Julia. ** When Hurd calls she
walks out of the room, just as my poor mother
does when you come. That is spite : since you
are sent away, nobody else is to profit by it.
Where is her Christianity, eh? and echo an-
swers, Got a cigar, old fellow?" And, after
puffing in silence a while, he said, resignedly,
** I am an unnatural monster."
** Oh, are you ?" said the other, serenely, for
he was also under the benign influence.
"Yes," said Edward, "I am your ally; and
a mere spy in the camp of those two ladies. I
watch all their moves for your sake."
Alfred forgave him. And thus his whole life
was changed, and for nearly twelve months (for
Dr. Alder let him reside in the Hall through the
vacation) he pursued the quiet tenor of a stu-
dent's life, interrupted at times by law ; but that
28 another topic.
Wipe and no Wifb.
Mrs. Dodd was visibly shaken by that calam-
ity which made her shrink with horror from the
sight of Alfred Hardie. In the winter she was
so unwell that she gave up her duties with Messrs.
Cross and Co. Her connection with them had
been creditable to both parties. I believe I for-
got to say why they trusted her so ; well, I must
tell it elsewhere. David off her hands, she was
independent, and had lost the motive and the
heart for severe work. She told the partners
she could no longer do them justice, and left
them to their regret. They then advised her to
set up as a milliner, and offered her credit for
goods at cash prices up to two thousand pounds :
she thanked them like a sorrowful queen, and
went her way.
In the spring she recovered some spirit and
health ; but at mid-summer a great and subtle
misfortune befell her. Her mind was bent on
David night and day, and used to struggle to
evade the laws of space, that bind its grosser
companion, and find her lost husband on the sea.
She often dreamt of him, but vaguely. But one
fatal night she had a dream as clear as daylight,
and sharp as white pebbles in the sun. She was
on a large ship with guns ; she saw men bring
a dead sailor up the side ; she saw all their faces,
and the dead man's too. It was David. His
face was white. A clear voice said he was to
be buried in the deep next morning. She saw
the deck at her feet, the breeches of the guns,
so clear, so defined, that, when she awoke and
found herself in the dark, she thought reality
was an illusion. She told the dream to Julia
and Edward. They tried to encourage her, in
vain. "I saw him," she said, **I saw him; it
was a vision, not a dream : my David is dead.
Well, then, I shall not be long behind him."
Dr. Sampson ridiculed her dream, to her face.
But to her children he told another story. "I
am anxious about her," he said, "most anxious.
There is no mortal ill the distempered brain may
not cause. Is it not devilish we can bear nothing
of him ? She will fret herself into the grave, as
sure as fate, if something does not turn up."
Her children could not console her: they
tried, but something hung round their own
hearts, and chilled every effort. In a word, they
shared her fears. How came she to see him on
board a ship with guns ? In her waking hours
she always said he was on a merchant ship.
Was it not one of those visions, which come to
mortals and give them often a peep into broad
space sometimes, and far more rarely, a peep
into futurity itself?
One day in the autumn, Alfred, being in town
on law business, met what seemed the ghost of
Mrs. Dodd in the streets. She saw him not;
her eye was on that ghastly face she had seen in
her ^eams. It flashed through his niind that
she would not live long to p^iTthim and Julia.
But he discouraged the ungenerous thought;
almost forgave her repugnance to himself, and
felt it would be worse than useless to ask Julia
to leave her mother, who was leaving her visibly.
But her horror* of him was any thing but soft-
ened ; and she used to tell Dr. Sampson she
thought the sight of that man would kill her
now. Edward himself began to hope Alfred
would turn his affections elsewhere. The house
VERY HARD CASH.
233
in Pembroke Street was truly the house of
mourning now ; all their calamities were light
compared with this.
The District Visitor.
While Julia was writing letters to keep up
Alfred's heart, she was very sad herself. More-
over, he had left her for Oxford but a very few
days when she received an anonymous letter;
her first. It was written in a female hand, and
couched in friendly and sympathetic terms. The
writer thought it only fair to warn her that Mr.
Alfred Hardie was passionately fond of a lady in
the asylum, and had offered her marriage. If
Miss Dodd wished to be deceived, let her burn
this letter and think no more of it ; if not, let
her insert this advertisement in the Times: ** The
whole Truth. L. D.," and her correspondent
would communicate particulars by word or
writing.
What a barbed and poisoned arrow is to the
body was this letter to Julia's mind. She sat
cold as a stone with this poison in her hand.
Then came an impetuous impulse to send it
down to Alfred, and request him to transfer the
other half of his heart to his lady of the asylum.
Then she paused, and remembered how much
unjust suspicion had been leveled at him already.
What right had she to insult him ? She would
try and keep the letter to herself. As to acting
upon it, her good sense speedily suggested it
came from the rival in question, real or supposed.
"She wants to make use of me," said Julia;
**it is plain Alfred does not care much for her;
or why does she come to me ?" She put the let-
ter in her desk, and it rankled in her heart.
Haeret lateri lethalis arundo ! She trembled at
herself: she felt a savage passion had been
touched in her. She prayed day and night
against jealousy.
But I must now, to justify my heading, skip
some months, and relate a remarkable incident
that befell her in the said character. On the first
of August in this year, a good Christian woman,
one of her patients, asked her to call on Mr.
Barkington, that lodged above. "He is a de-
cent body, miss, and between you and me, I
think his complaint is, he don't get quite enough
to eat."
"Barkington!" said Julia, and put her hand
to her bosom. She went and tapped at his door.
" Come in," said a shrillish voice.
She entered, and found a weazened old man
seated, mending his own coat.
He rose, and she told him she was a district
visitor. He said he had heard of her; they
called her the beautiful lady in that court. This
was news to her, and made her blush. She ask-
ed leave to read a chapter to him ; he listened as
to some gentle memory of childhood. She pre-
scribed him a glass of port-wine, and dispensed
it on the instant. Thus physicked, her patient
became communicative, and chattered on about
his native place ^but did not name it and talk-
ed about the people there. Now om: district vis-
itor was, if the truth must be told, a compound-
er. She would permit her pupils to talk about
earthly affairs, on condition they would listen to
heavenly ones before she went. So she let this
old man run on, and he told her he had been a
banker's clerk all his life, and saved a thousand
pounds, and come up to London to make his for-
P
tune on the Stock Exchange ; and there he was
sometimes a bull, and sometimes a bear, and,
whichever he was, certain foxes called brokers
and jobbers got the profit and he the loss. "It's
all the same as a gambling -table," said he.
"The jobbers and brokers have got the same
odds the bank has at Rouge etNoir, and the lit-
tle capitalist like me is doomed beforehand."
Then he told her that there was a crossing-
sweeper near the Exchange who came from his
native place, and had started as a speculator, and
come down to that, only he called it rising, and
used to speak with a shudder of when he dabbled
in the funds : and often told him to look out and
get a crossing. And lo ! one' day when he was
cleaned out and desperate, and hovering with
the other ghosts of little capitalists about the
tomb of their money, he saw his countryman fall
flat, and the broom fly out of his hand. Instant-
ly he made a rush, and so did a wooden-legged
sailor ; but he got first to the broom, and began
to sweep while others picked up his countryman,
who proved dead as a herring ; and he succeeded
to his broom, and it made money by the Ex-
change, though he never could: still, one day
he picked up^a pocket-book in that neighbor-
hood, with a lump of money, which he straight-
way advertised in no newspapers. And now
Julia thought it time to interpose the eighth com-
mandment, the golden rule, and such branches
of learning
He became a favorite of hers : he had so much
to say: she even thought she had seen his face
before : but she could not tell where. She gave
him good books and tracts, and read to him, and
plowed his heart with her sweet voice, and sowed
the good seed in the furrows seed which, like
wheat or other grain, often seems to fall flat and
die, but comes out green after many days.
One Saturday she invited him to dine with
the servants next day. He came during church-
time, and went away in the afternoon while she
was with her mother. But she asked Sarah,
who proved eager to talk about him. " He was
a rum customer ; kep asking questions all din-
ner-time. *Well,' says I, * you're good com-
pany, you are ; be you a lawyer ? for you exam-
ines us ; but you don't tell us nothing.' Ye see,
miss, Jane she is that simple, she was telling him
every thing, and about Mr. Alfred's lawsuit with
his father and all."
Julia said that was indiscreet ; but after all
what did it matter?
" Who knows, miss?" Sarah replied ; "least
said is soonest mended. If you please, miss,
who is he ? Where does he bide ? Where does
he come from ? Does he know Hardies ?"
" I should think not. Why ?"
" Because I'm much mistaken if he doesn't."
Then putting on a stolid look, she asked, " Does
he know your papa ?"
" Oh no, Sarah. How should he ?"
" There now," said Sarah : " Miss, you are all
in the dark about this Old man : I'll tell you
something ; I took him out of the way of Jane's
temper when she began a dishing up, and I had
him into the parlor a minute ; and in course there
he sees the picture of your poor papa hung up.
Miss, if you'll believe me, the moment he claps
eyes on that there picture, he halloes out, and
out goes his two hands like this here. 'It's
him I' says he ; 4t's him I' and stares at the pic-
234
VERY HARD CASH.
ture like a stuck pig. Forgot I was close behind
him, I do believe. ' She's his daughter,' says
he, in a whisper, a curious whisper; seemed
to come out of his stomach. * What's the
matter now?' says I, just so. He gave a
great start, as if my speaking had wakened
him from a dream, and, says he, 'Nothing,' as
quiet as a lamb. ' Nothing isn't much,' says I,
just so. ' It usedn't to be any thing at all when
I was your age,' says he, sneerin. But I paid
him in good coin ; says I, * Old man, where you
comes from do the folks use to start and hallo
out, and cry "It's him I she's his daughter!"
and fling their two arms abroad like a wind-mill
in March, and all fornothing ?' So at that
he changed as white as my smock, and fell all
of a tremble. However, at dinner he perks up,
and drew that poor simple Jane out a good one.
But he didn't look toward me much, which I
set opposite to watch my lord."
** Sarah," said Julia, ** this is really curious,
mysterious ; you are a good, watchful, faithful
girl ; and, to tell the truth, I sometimes fancy I
have seen Mr. Barkington's face ; however, I
will solve this little mystery to-morrow ; for I
will ask him : thank you, Sarah."
On Monday she called on Mr. Barkington to
solve the mystery. But, instead of solving, her
visit thickened it ; for Mr. Barkington was gone,
bag and baggage. When Edward was told of
this business he thought it remarkable, and re-
gretted that he had not seen the old man.
So do I ; for it is my belief Edward would
have recognized him.
David Dodd.
The history of a man is the history of his mind.
And that is why you have heard so little of late
about the simplest, noblest, and most unfortu-
^ nate of all my personages. Insanity is as various
as eccentricity ; I have spared the kind-hearted
reader some of David's vagaries ; however, when
we parted with him, he had settled into that
strange phase of lunacy, in which the distant
past seems nearly obliterated, and memory exists,
but r^dlves in a narrow round of things present :
this was accompanied with a positive illusion,
to wit, a fixed idea that ho was an able seaman :
and, as usual, what mental power he retained
came out strongest in support of this idea. All
this was marked by a bodily agility somewhat
more than natural in a man of his age. Owing
to the wind astern he was enabled to run into
Portsmouth before the steam-tug came up with
him : and he did run into port, not because he
feared pursuit, but because he was desperately
hungry ; and he had no suicidal tendencies what-
ever.
He made for a public house, and called for
some bread and cheese and beer ; they were sup-
plied, and then lo ! he had no money to pay for
them. " I'll owe you till I come back from sea,
my bobo," said he, coolly. On this the landlord
collared him, and David shook him off into the
road, much as a terrier throws a rat from him ;
then there was a row, and a naval oflficer, who
was cruising about for hands, came up and heard
it. There was nothing at all unseamanlike in
David's conduct, and the gentleman took a fa-
vorable view of it, and paid the small demand ;
but not with unleavened motives; he was the
second iientenant of H. M. Frigate Vulture!
she had a bad name, thanks to her last captain,
and was short of hands ; he took David aside and
asked him would he like to ship on board the
Vulture.
David said yes, and suggested the foretop.
"Oh yes," growled the lieutenant, "you all
want to be there." He then gauged this Jacky
Tar's intellects; asked him inter alia how to
send a frigate's foretop-gallant-yard down upon
deck ; and, to show how seamanship sticks in the
brain when once it gets there, David actually
told him. "You are rather old," said the
lieutenant, " but you are a seaman ;" and so took
him on board the Vulture at Spithead, before
Green began to search the town in earnest. Ko-
body acts his part better than some demented
persons do: and David made a very tolerable
sailor, notwithstanding his forty-five years : and
the sea did him good within certain limits. Be-
tween him and the past lay some intellectual or
cerebral barrier as impenetrable as the great wall
of China : but on the nither side of that wall
his faculties improved. Of course the crew soon
found out the gap in his poor brain, and called
him Soft Billy, and played on him at first. Bat
by degrees he won their affection; he was so
wonderfully sweet-tempered: and besides, his
mind being in an abnormal state, he loathed
grog, and gave his allowance to his mess-mates.
One day he showed an unexpected trait : they
were lying becalmed in southern latitudes, and,
timehanging heavy, each whiled it how he might ;
one fiddled, another wrote to his Polly, another
fished for sharks, another whistled for a wind,
scores fell into the form of meditation without
the reality, and one got a piece of yarn and
amused himself killing flies on the 'bulwark.
Now this shocked poor Billy : he put out his
long arm and intercepted a stroke. " What is
the row?" said the operator.
"You mustn't," said Billy, solemnly, looking
into his face with great dceamy eyes.
"You be ," said the other, and lent him
a tap on the cheek with the yarn. Billy did not
seem to mind this ; his skin had little sensibility,
owing to his disorder.
Jack recommenced on his flies, and the by-
standers laughed. They alway laughed now at
every thing Billy said, as Society used to laugh
when the late Theodore Hook asked for the
mustard at dinner ; and would have laughed if
he had said, "You see me sad, I have just lust
my poor father."
David stood looking on at the slaughter with
a helpless puzzled air.
At last he seemed to have an idea, he caught
Jack up by the throat and knee, lifted him with
gigantic strength above his head, and was jnst
going to hurl him shrieking into the sea, when
a dozen strong hands interfered, and saved the
man. Then they were going to bind Billy hand
and foot ; but he was discovered to be perfectly
calm ; so they remonstrated instead, and pres-
ently Billy's commander-in-chief, a ship-boy
called Georgie White, shoved in and asked him
in a shrill haughty voice how he dared do that.
"My dear," said Billy, with great humility aiid
placidity, "he was killing God's creatures, no
allowance :* so, ye see, to save their lives, I was
ohUged,"* ^
* Nautical phrase, meaning without stint or limit, ff
niggardly admeasurement; as there is of grog.
VERY HARD CASH.
235
At this piece of reasoninpr, and the simplici-
ty and gentle conviction with which it was de-
livered, there was a roar. It subsided, and a
doabc arose whether Billy was altogether in the
wrong.
"Well,'* said one, "I dare say life is sweet
to the little creatures, if they could speak their
minds."
"IVe known a ship founder in a fair breeze
all along of killing *em," said one old salt.
Finally, several sided with Billy, and intimated
that " it served the lubber right for not listening
to reason.** And, indeed, methinks it was love-
ly and touching that so divine a ray of goodness
and superior reason should have shot from his
heart or from Heaven across that poor benighted
brain.
But it must be owned his mode of showing
his humanity was somewhat excessive and ab-
normal, and smacked of lunacy. After this,
however, the affection of his mess-mates was
not 80 contemptuous.
Now the captain of the Vulture was Billy's cous-
in by marriage, Reginald Bazalgette. Twenty
years ago, when the captain was a boy, they
were great friends ; of late Bazalgette had seen
less of him; still it seems strange he did not
recognize him in his own ship. But one or two
causes co-operated to prevent that. In the first
place, the mind when turned in one direction is
not so sharp in another; and Captain Bazal-
gette had been told to look for David in a mer-
chant ship bound for the East Indies. In the
next place, insanity alters the expression of the
face wonderfully, and the captain of a frigate
runs his eye over four hundred sailors at muster,
or a hundred at work, not to examine their feat-
ures, but their dress and bearing at the one,
and their handiness at the other. The worst
piece of luck was that Mrs. Dodd did not knoW
David called himself William Thompson. So
there stood "William Thompson" large as life
on the ship's books, and nobody the wiser. Cap-
tain Bazalgette had a warm regard and affection
for Mrs. Dodd, and did all he could. Indeed,
he took great liberties: he stopped and over-
hauled several merchant ships for the truant;
and, by-the-by, on one occasion William Thomp-
son was one of the boat's crew that rowed a
midshipman from the Vulture alongside a mer-
chant ship to search for David Dodd : he heard
the name and circumstance mentioned in the
boat, but the very name was new to him. He
remembered it, but only from that hour ; and
told his loving tyrant, Georgie White, they had
been overhauling a merchant ship and looking
for one David Dodd.
It was about mid-summer theVulture anchored
off one of the South Sea islands, and sent a boat
ashore for fruit. Billy and his dearly-beloved
little tyrant, Georgie White, were among the
crew. Off goes Georgie to bathe, and Billy sits
down on the beach with a loving eye upon him.
The water was calm : but the boy with the heed-
lessness of youth staid in it nearly an hour : he
was seized with cramp, and screamed to his com-
rades. They ran, but they were half a mile
from the boat. Billy dashed into the water and
came up with Georgie just as he was sinking for
the last time; the boy gripped him ; but by his
great strength he disentangled himself and got
Georgie on his shoulders, and swam for the
shore. Meantime the sailors got into the boat,
and rowed hastily toward them.
Now Billy was undermost, and his head under
water at times, and Georgie, some thought, had
helped strangle him by gripping his neck with
both arms. Anyway, by thp boy's account, just
as they were getting into shallow water, Billy
gave a great shriek and turned over on his back ;
and Georgie paddled with his hands, but Billy
soon after this sunk like a dead body while the
boat was yet fifty yards off. And Georgie
screamed and pointed to the place, and the boat
came op and took Georgie in, and the water
was so clear the sailors saw Billy'lie motionless
at the bottom, and hooked him with a boat-hook
and drew* him up : but his face came up along-
side a deadly white, with staring eyes, and they
shuddered and feared it was too late.
They took him into a house and stripped him,
and rubbed him, and wrapped him in blankets, and
put him by the hot fire. But all would not do.
Then having dried his clothes, they dressed
the body again and laid him in the boat, and
cast the Union Jack over him, and rowed slowly
and unwillingly back to the ship, Georgie sob-
bing and screaming over the body, and not a dry
eye in the boat.
The body was carried up the side, and un-
covered, just as Mrs. Dodd saw in her dream.
The surgeon was sent for and examined the
body : and then the grim routine of a man-of-
war dealt swiftly with the poor skipper. He was
carried below to be prepared for a sailor's grave.
Then the surgeon walked aft and reported for-
mally to the officer of the watch the death In-
drowning of William Thompson. The officer
of the watch went instantly to the captain in his
cabin and reported the death. The captain gave
the stereotyped order to bury him at noon next
day ; and the body was stripped that night and
sewed up in his hammock with a portion of his
clothes and bedding to conceal the outline of thft
corpse, and two cannon-balls at his feet ; and so
the poor skipper was laid out for burial, and
covered by the Union Jack.
I don't know whether any of my young readers
are directly affected by the catastrophe I have
just related. If not, I will just remind them that
even Edward Dodd was prepared to oppose the
marriage of Julia and Alfred, if any serious ill
should befall his father at sea, owing to Alfred's
imprudent interference in rescuing him from
Drayton House.
CHAPTER Lin.
Minute study of my fellow-creatnres has re-
vealed to me that there are many intelligent
persons who think that a suit at law commences
in court. This is not so. Many suits are fought
and decided by the special pleaders, and so never
come into court ; and, as a stiff encounter of this
kind actually took place in Hardie v. Hardie, a
word of prefatory explanation may be proper.
Suitors come into court only to try an issue : an
issue is a mutual lie direct: and toward this
both parties are driven upon paper by the laws
of pleading, which may be thus summed : 1.
236
VERY HARD CASH.
Every statement of the adversary must either
be contradicted flat, or confessed and avoided :
"avoided" means neutralized by fresh matter.
2. Nothing must be advanced by plaintiff which
does not disclose a ground of action at law. 3.
Nothing advanced by defendant, which, if true,
would not be a defense to the action. These
rules exclude in a vast degree the pitiable defects
and vices that mark all the unprofessional argu-
ments one ever hears ; for on a breach of any
one of the said rules the other party can demur :
the demurrer is argued before the judges in
Banco, and, if successfully, the faulty plaint, or
faulty plea, is dismissed, and often of course the
cause won or lost thereby, and the country saved
the trouble, and the suitors the expense, of try-
ing an issue.
So the writ being served by Plt.'s attorney,
and an appearance put in by Deft.'s, the paper
battle began by Alfred Hardie, through his attor-
ney, serving on Deft.'s attorney "The Decla-
ration." This was drawn by his junior counsel,
Garrow, and ran thus, after specifying the count
and the date :
^fUlllesey Alfred Hardie by John Compton
to tD(t. his attorney sues Thomas Hardie
For that the Deft, assaulted Pit.
gave him into custody to a certain
person and caused him to be im-
prisoned for a long space of time in
a certain place to wit a Lunatic Asy-
lum whereby the Pit. was much in-
convenienced and suffered much an-
guish and pain in mind and body
and was unable to attend to his af-
fairs and was injured in his credit
and circumstances.
And the Pit. claims 5000.
Mr. Compton conveyed a copy of this to Al-
fred, and said it was a beautiful declaration.
"What," said Alfred, "is that all I have suf-
fered at these miscreants' hands? Why, it is
written with an icicle."
Mr. Compton explained that this was the out-
line; "Counsel will lay the colors on in court
as thick as you like."
The defendant replied to the above declara-
tion by three pleas.
By statute 1. The Deft, by Joseph Heathfield
8 *^^**^ his attorney says he is not guilty.
lOR. ** 2. And for a further plea the Deft,
says that before and at the time of
the alleged imprisonment Pit. was a
person of unsound mind and incom-
petent to take care of himself and a
proper person to be taken care of
and detained and it was unfit un-
safe improper and dangerous that
he should be at large thereupon the
Deft, being the uncle of the Pit.
and a proper person to cause the
Pit. to be taken charge of under
due care and treatment in that be-
half did cause the Pit. to be so taken
charge of and detained under due
care and treatment, etc. etc.
The third plea was the stinger, but too long
to cite verbatim ; it went to thw tune, that the
plaintiff, at and liefore the time, etc., had con-
ducted himself like a person of uusound mind,
etc. ; and two certificates that he was* insane
had been given by two persons duly authorized
under the statute to sign such certificates, and
the defendant had believed and did bona fide
believe these certificates to be true, etc. etc.
The first of these pleas was a mere formal
plea under the statute.
The second raised the very issue at common
law the plaintive wished to try.
The third made John Compton knit his brows
with perplexity. "This is a very nasty plea,"
said he to Alfred : "a regular trap. If we join
issue on it, we must be defeated ; for how can
we deny the certificates were in form ; and yet
the plaguy thing is not loose enough to be de-
murred to. Colls, who drew these pleas for
them?"
"Mr. Colvin, Sir."
" Make a note to employ him in our next stiff
pleading."
Alfred was staggered. He had thought to
ride rough -shod over defendant: a common
expectation of plaintiffs: but seldom realized.
Lawyers fight hard. The pleas were taken to
Garrow ; he said there was but one course : to
demur to No. 3. So the plaintiff "joined issue
on all the defendant's pleas, and as to the last
plea the plaintiff said the same was bad in sub-
stance." Defendant rejoined that the same was
good in substance, and thus Hardie v, Hardie
divided itself into two cases, a question of law
for the judges, and an issue for the mixed tri-
bunal loosely called a jury. And I need hardly
say that should the plaintiff win one of them,
and the defendant the other, the cause would
be won by the defendant.
Postponing the history of the legal question,
I shall show how Messrs. Heathfield fought off
the issue, and cooled the ardent Alfred and sick-
ened him of law.
In theory every Englishman has a right to be
tried by his peers ; but in fact there are five gen-
tlemen in every court, each of whom has by
precedent the power to refuse him a jury, by
simply postponing the trial term after term, un-
til the death of one of the pai*ties, when the ac-
tion, if a personal one, dies too : and, by a sin-
gular anomaly of judicial practice, if a slippeiy
Deft, can't persuade A. or B., judges of the com-
mon law court, to connive at what I venture to
call
The Postponement Swindle,
he can actually go to C. D. and E., one after
another, with his rejected application, and the
previous refusal of the other judges to delay
and baffle justice goes for. little or jiothing; fo
that the postponing swindler has five to one in
his favor.
Messrs. Heathfield began this game unlucki-
ly. They applied to a judge in Chambers for a
month to plead. Mr. Compton opposed in per-
son, and showed that this was absurd. The j udge
allowed them only four days to plead. Issue be-
ing joined, Mr. Compton pushed on for trial,
and the cause was set down for the November
term. Toward the end of the term Messrs.
Heathfield applied to one of the puisn^ judges
for a postponement, on the ground that a prin-
cipal witness could not attend. Application ^^ s
supported by the attorney's affidavit to the eff't
that Mr. Speers was in Boulogne, and had writ-
VERY HARD CASH.
237
ten to him to say that he had met with a rail-
way accident, and feared he could not possibly
come to England in less than a month. A re-
spectable French doctor confirmed this by cer-
tificate. Compton opposed, but the judge would
hardly hear him, and postponed the trial as a
matter of course : this carried it over the sittings
into next term. Alfred groaned, but bore it
patiently ; not so Doctor Sampson : he raged
against secret tribunals: "See how men dete-
riorate the moment they get out of the full light
of publeecity. "What English judge, sitting in
the light of Short-hand, would admit *Jack
swears that Gill says' for legal evidence. Speers
has sworn to no facks. Heathfield has sworn
to no facks but th' existence of Speers's hearsay.
They are a couple o lyres. 1*11 bet ye ten
pounds t' a shilling Speers is as well as I'm."
Mr. Compton quietly reminded him there was
a direct statement the French doctor's certifi-
cate.
**A medical certificut!" shrieked Sampson,
amazed. ** Mai dearr Sirr, a medical certifi-
cut is just an article o commerce like an attor-
ney's conscience. Gimme a guinea and I'll get
you sworn sick, diseased, disabled, or dead this
minute, whichever you like best."
"Come, doctor, don't fly off: you said you'd
bet ten pounds to a shilling Speers is not an in-
valid at all. I say done."
"Done."
" How will you find out ?"
" How ? Why set the thief-takers on um, to
be sure."
He wrote off to the prefect of police at Bou-
logne, and in four days received an answer head-
ed, "Information in the interest of families."
The prefect informed him there had been no rail-
way accident: but that the Sieur Speers, En-
glish subject, had really hurt his leg getting out
of a railway carriage six weeks ago, and had
kept his room some days ; but he had been cured
some weeks, and going abodt his business, and
made an excursion to Paris.
On this Compton offered him the shilling.
But he declined to take it. "The lie was self-
evident," said he : "and here's a judge wouldn't
see't, and an attorney couldn't. Been all their
lives sifting evidence too. Oh the darkness of
the professional mind!"
The next term came. Mr. Compton deliver-
ed the briefs and fees, subpcenaed the witnesses,
etc., and Alfred came up with a good heart to
get his stigma removed by twelve honest men in
the light of day ; but first one case was taken out
of its order ai\(l put before him, then another, till
term wore near an end. Then Messrs. Heath-
field applied to another judge of the court for a
postponement. Mr. Richard Hardie, plaintiff's
father, a most essential witness, was ill at Clare
Court. Medical certificate and letter herewith.
Compton opposed. Now this judge was a
keen and honorable lawyer, with a lofty hatred
of all professional tricks. He heard the two
attorneys, and delivered himself to this effect,
only of course in better legal phrase: "I shall
make no order. The defendant has been here
before on a doubtful affidavit. You know, Mr.
Heathfield, juries in these cases go by the plain-
tiffs evidence, and his conduct under cross-ex-
amination. And I think it would not be just
nor humane to keep this plaintiff in suspense,
and civiliter mortuum, any longer. You can
take out a commission to examine Richard
Hardie."
To this Mr. Compton nailed him, but the
commission took time ; and while it was pend-
ing, Mr. Heathfield went to another judge with
another disabled witness ; Peggy Black. That
naive personage was nursing her deceased sis-
ter's children in an aflSdavit: and they had
scaiiatijia ^surgeon's certificate to that effect.
Compton opposed, and pointed out the blot.
"You don't want the children in the witness-
box," said he: "and we are not to be robbed
of our trial because one of your witnesses prefers
nursing other people's children to facing the
witness-box."
The judge nodded assent. "I make no or-
der, " said he.
Mr. Heathfield went out from his presence
and sent a message by telegraph to Peggy
Black. "You must have Scar, yourself, and
telegraph the same at once, certificate by post."
The accommodating maiden telegraphed back
that she had jinfortunately taken scarlatina of
the children: medical certificate to follow by
post. Four judges out of the five were no^
awake to the move. But Mr. Heathfield tink-
ered the hole in his late aflidavit with Peggy's
telegram, and slipped down to Westminster to
the chief judge of the court, who had had no
opportunity of watching the growth and dissemi-
nation of disease among Deft, 's witnesses. Comp-
ton fought this time by counsel, and with a pow-
erful affidavit. But luck was against him. The
judge had risen to go home : he listened stand-
ing ; Compton's counsel was feeble ; did not feel
the wrong : how could he ? lawyers fatten by de-
lays of justice, as physicians do by tardy cure.
The postponement was granted.
Alfred cursed them all, and his own folly in
believing that an alleged lunatic would be al-
lowed fair play at Westminster or any where
else. Compton took snuff, and "Sampson ap-
pealed to the press again. He wrote a long
letter, exposing with fearless irony the postpone-
ment swindle as it had been worked in Hardie
V, Hardie : and wound up with this fiery pero-
ration :
"This Englishman sues not merely for dam-
ages, but to recover lost rights dearer far than
money, of which he says he has been unjustly
robbed ; his right to walk in daylight on the soil
of his native land without being seized, and tied
up for life like a nigger or a dog ; his footing
in society ; a chance to earn his bread ; and a
place among mankind: ay, among mankind;
for a lunatic is an animal in the law's eye and
society's, and an alleged lunatic is a lunatic till
a jury clears him.
"I appeal to you, gentlemen, is not such a
suitor sacred in all wise and good men's minds ?
Is he not defendant as well as plaintiff? Why
his stake is enormous compared with the nom-
inal defendant's; and, if I know right from
wrong, to postpone his trial a fourth time would
be to insult Divine justice, and trifle with hu-
man misery, and shock the common sense of
nations."
The doctor's pen neither clipped the words
nor minced the matter, you see. Reading this
the water came into Alfred's eyes : "Ah, stanch
friend," he said, "how few are like you! To
VERY HARD CASH.
the intellectual dwarfs who conspire with my
oppressors, Hardie v. Hardie is but a family
squabble. Parvis omnia parva." Mr. Compton
read it too; and said from the bottom of his
heart, "Heaven defend us from our friends!
This is enough to make the courts decline to
try the case at all."
And, indeed, it did not cure the evil : for next
term another malade affidavitaire was set up.
Speers to wit. This gentleman deposed to hav-
ing come over on purpose to attend the trial ;
but, having inadvertently stepped aside as far as
Walesy he lay there stricken with a mysterious
malady, and had just strength to forward medi-
cal certificate. On this the judge, in spite of
remonstrance, adjourned Hardie v. Hardie to the
summer term. Summer came, the evil day drew
nigh: Mr. Heathfield got the venue changed
from Westminster to London, which was the
fifth postponement. At last the cause came on :
the parties and witnesses were all in court, with
two whole days to try it in.
Dr. Sampson rushed in furious. "There is
some deviltry afloat," said he. **I was in the
House of Commons last night, and there I saw
the defendant's counsel earwigging the judge."
"Nonsense,'* said Mr. Compton, "such sus-
picions are ridiculous. Do you think they can
talk of nothing but Hardie v. Hardie ?"
"Mai dearr Sirr my son met one of Heath-
field's clerks at dinner, and he let out that the
trile was not to come off. Put this and that to-
gether now."
"It will come off,'* said Mr. Compton, " and
in five minutes at farthest."
In less than that time the learned judge came
in, and before taking his seat made this extraor-
dinary speech :
" I hear this cause will take three days to try :
and we have only two days before us. It would
be inconvenient to leave it unfinished; and I
must proceed on circuit the day after to-morrow.
It must be a reiHanet: no man can do more than
time allows."
Plain tifi^s counsel made a feeble remonstrance ;
then yielded. And the crier with sonorous voice
called on the case of Bread v. Cheese, in which
there were pounds at stake but no principle.
Oh, with what zest they all went into it ; being
small men escaping from a great thing to a small
one. Never hopped frogs into a ditch with more
alacrity. Alfred left the court and hid himself,
and the scalding tears forced their way down his
cheeks at this heartless proceeding: to let all the
witnesses come into court at a vast expense to
the parties : and raise the cup of justice to the
lips of the oppressed, and then pretend he knew
a trial would last more than two days, and so
shirk it. " I'd have made that a reason for sit-
ting till midnight," said poor Alfred, "not for
prolonging a poor injured man's agony four mor-
tal months." He then prayed God earnestly for
this great postponer's death as the only event
that coufd give him back an Englishman's right
of being tried by his peers, and so went down to
Oxford broken-hearted.
As for Sampson he was most indignant, and
said a public man had no business with a private
ear : and wanted to appeal to the press again :
but the doughty doctor had a gentle but power-
ful ruler at home, as fiery horses are best ruled
bjr a gentle band. Mrs. Sampson requested him
to write no more, but look round for an M.P. to
draw these repeated defeats of justice to the no-
tice of the House. Now there was a Mr. Bite,
who had taken a prominent and honorable part
in lunacy questions ; headed committees, and so
on : this seemed the man. Dr. Sampson sent
him a letter saying there was a flagrant case of
a sane man falsely imprisoned, who had now
been near a year applying for a jury, and jug-
gled out of this constitutional right by arbitra-
ry and unreasonable postponements : would Mr.
Bite give him (Dr. Sampson) ten minutes and
no more, when he would explain the case and
leave documentary evidence behind him for Mr.
Bite to test his statement. The philanthropical
M.P. replied promptly in these exact words :
"Mr. Bite presents his compliments to Dr.
Sampson to state that it is impossible for him to
go into his case, nor to give him the time he re-
quests to do so."
Sampson was a little indignant at the man's
insolence, but far more at having been duped by
his public assumption of philanthropy. "Thie
little pragmatical impostor!" he roared. "With
what a sense o' relief th' animal flings off the
mask of humanity when there is no easy eclat
to be gained by putting 't on." He sent the
philanthropical Bite's revelation of his private
self to Alfred, who returned it with this single
remark: "Homunculi quanti sunt!"
Dishonest suitors all try to postpone ; but they
do not gain unmixed good thereby. These de-
lays give time for more evidence to come in;
and this slow coming, and chance, evidence is
singularly adverse to the unjust suitor. Of this
came a notable example in October next, and
made Richard Hardie determine to precipitate
the trial, and even regret he had not fought it
out long ago.
He had just returned from consulting Messrs.
Heathfield, and sat down to a nice litUe dinner
in his apartments (Sackville Street), when a
visitor was announced ; and in came the slouch-
ing little figure of Mr. Barkington alias Noah
Skinner.
Diamond cut Diamond.
Mr. Hardie suppressed a start, and said no-
thing. Skinner bowed low with a mixture of
his old cringing way, and a certain sly triumph-
ant leer, so that his body seemed to say one
thing, and his face the opposite. Mr. Hardie
eyed him, and saw that his coat was rusty and
his hat napless ; then Mr. Hardie smelt a beg-
gar, and prepared to parry all attempts upon his
purse. J
"I hope I see my old master well," said Skin-
ner, coaxingly.
"Pretty well in body, Skinner; thank you."
* * I had a deal of trouble to find you. Sir. But
I heard of the great lawsuit between Mr. Alfred
and you, and I knew Mr. Heathfield was your ^
solicitor. So I watched at his place day after
day: and at last you came. Oh, I was so
pleased when I saw your noble figure; but I
wouldn't speak to you in the street, for fear of
disgracing you ; I'm such a poor little guy to be
addressing a gentleman like you."
Now this sounded well on the surface, but be-
low there was a subtle something M^. Hardie did
not like at all : but he took the cue, and said,
" My poor Skinner, do you think I would turn
VERY HARD CASH.
up my nose at a faithful old servant like you?
have a glass of wino with me, and tell me how
you have been getting on." He went behind a
screen and opened a door, and soon returned
with a decanter, leaving the door opened : now
in the next room sat, unbeknown to Skinner, a
young woman with white eyelashes, sewing but-
tons on Mr. Hardie's shirts. That astute gen-
tleman gave her instructions, and important ones
too, with a silent gesture ; then reappeared and
filled the bumper high to his faithful servant.
They drank one another's healths with great
cordiality, real or apparent. Mr. Hardie then
asked Skinner carelessly if he could do any thing
for him. Skinner said, " Well, Sir, I am very
poor."
"So am I, between you and me," said Mr.
Hardie, confidentially; "I don't mind telling
you; those confounded Commissioners of Luna-
cy wrote to Alfred's trustees, and I have been
forced to replace a loan of five thousand pounds.
That Board always sides with the insane. That
crippled me, and drove me to the Exchange :
and now what I have left is all invested in time-
bargains. A month settles my fate : a little for-
tune, or absolute beggaiy."
" You'll bo lucky. Sir, you'll be lucky,** said
Skinner, cheerfully; "you have such a long
head : not like poor little me. The Exchange
soon burnt my earnings. Not a shilling left of
tile thousand pounds, Sir, you were so good as to
give me for my faithful services. But you will
give me another chance. Sir, I know ; I'll take
better care this time." Mr. Hardie shook his
head sorrowfully, and said it was impossible.
Skinner eyed him askant, and remarked, quietly,
and half aside, "Of course I could go to the
other party: but I sliouldn't like to do that.
They would come down handsome."
"What other party?"
" La, Sir, what other party? why Mrs. Dodd's,
or Mr. Alfred's ; here's the trial coming on, you
know, and of course if they could get mo to go
on the box and tell all I know, or half what I
know, why the judge and jury would say locking
Mr. Alfred up for mad was a conspiracy.*'
Mr. Hardie quaked internally ; but he hid it
grandly, and once more was a Spartan gnawed
beneath his robe by this little fox: "What,"
said he, sternly, " after all I and mine have done
for you and yours, would you be so base as to
go and sell yourself to my enemies ?'*
"Never, Sir," shouted Skinner, zealously:
then in a whisper, " not if you'll make a bid for
me.'*
"How much do you demand?"
" Only another thousand. Sir."
"A thousand pounds 1'*
"Why, what is that to you. Sir: you are rich
enough to buy the eighth commandment out of
the tables of ten per cent. : and then the lawsuit,
Hardie versus Hardies !'*
"You have spoken plainly at last," said Mr.
Hardie, grimly. "This is extorting money by
threats. Do you know that nothing is more
criminal, nor more easy to punish ? I can take
you before a magistrate, and imprison you on
the instant for this attempt. I will, too."
"Try it," said Skinner, coolly. "Where's
your witness?"
" Behind that screen.'*
Peggy came forward directly, with a pen in
her hand. Skinner was manifestly startled and
disconcerted. "I have taken all your words
down, Mr. Skinner," said Peggy, softly: then
to her master, "Shall I go for a policeman.
Sir?"
Mr. Hardie reflected. "Yes," said he, stern-
ly : " there's no other course with such a lump
of treachery and ingratitude as this."
Peggy whipped on her bonnet.
" What a hurry you are in I" whined Skinner ;
"a policeman ought to be the last argument for
old friends to run to." Then, fawning spiteful-
ly, "Don't talk of indicting me. Sir," said he;
"it makes me shiver: why how will you look
when I up and tell them all how Captain Dodd
was took with apoplexy in our office, and how
you nailed fourteen thousand pounds off his
senseless body, and forgot to put them down in
your balance-sheet, so they are not whitewashed
off like the rest."
"Any witnesses to all this, Skinner?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Who?"
"Well; your own conscience, ybr oney" said
Skinner.
"He is mad, Peggy," said Mr. Hardie, shrug-
ging his shoulders. He then looked Skinner full
in the face, and said, "Nobody was ever seized
with apoplexy in my office. Nobody ever gave
mo 14,000, and if this is the probable tale with
which you come here to break the law and ex-
tort money, leave my house this instant : and if
ever you dare to utter this absurd and malicious
slander, you shall lie within four stone walls, and
learn what it is for a shabby vagabond to come
without a witness to his back, and libel a man
of property and honor."
Skinner let him run on in this loud, triumph-
ant strain till he had quite done ; then put out
a brown skinny finger, and poked him lightly in
the ribs, and said, quite quietly, and oh, so dry-
ly, with a knowing wink,
"I'vegot The Receipt.**
CHAPTER LIV.
Mr. Hardie collapsed as if he had been a
man inflated, and that truth had punctured him.
"Ah!" said he. "Ahl" said Skinner, in a
mighty different tone : insolent triumph to wit.
After a pause, Mr. Hardie made an effort, and
said, contemptuously : "The receipt (if any) was
flung into the dust-liole and carried away. Do
you think I've forgotten that?"
"Don't you believe it. Sir," was the reply.
"While you turned your back and sacked the
money, 1 said to myself, *Oho, is that the game?*
and nailed the receipt. What a couple of scoun-
drels we were ! I wouldn't have her know it for
all your money. Come, Sir, I see it's all right ;
you will shell out sooner than be posted."
Here Peggy interposed; "Mr. Skinner be
more considerate ; my master is really poor just
now."
"That is no reason why I should be insulted
and indicted and trampled under foot," snarled
Skinner, all in one breath.
"Show me the receipt, and take my last shil-
ling, you ungrateful, vindictive viper," groaned
Mr. Hardie.
VERY HARD CASH.
"Stuff and nonsense,** said Skinner. "rm|
not a viper ; I'm a man of business. Find me
five hundred pounds, and 1*11 show you the re-
ceipt and keep dark. But I can't afford to give
it you for that, of course.'*
Skinner triumphed, and made the great man
apologize, writhing all the time, and wishing he
was a day-laborer with Peggy to wife, and four-
teen honest shillings a week for his income.
Having eaten humble pic, he agreed to meet
Skinner next Wednesday at midnight, alone,
under a certain lamp on the North Kensington
road: the interval (four days) he required to
raise money upon his scrip. Skinner bowed
himself out, fawning triumphantly. Mr. Hardie
stood in the middle of tlie room motionless,
scowling darkly. Peggy looked at him, and
saw some dark and sinister, resolve forming in
his mind: she divined it, as such women can
divine. She laid her hand on his arm, and said,
softly, " Richard, it's not worth thaV^ He start-
ed to find his soul read through his body, like
a placard through a pane of glass. He trem-
bled.
But it was only for a moment. "His blood
be on his own head," he snarled. " This is not
my seeking. He shall learn what it is to drive
Richard Hardie to despair." ,
"No, no,'* said Peggy; "there are other
countries besides this. Why not gather all you
have, and cross the water ? I'll follow you to
the world's end, Richard."
"Mind your own business," said he, fiercely.
She made no reply, but went softly and sat
down again, and sewed the buttons on his shirts.
Mr. Hardie wrote to Messrs. Heathfield to get
Hardie v. Hardie tried as soon as possible.
Meantime came a mental phenomenon : glid-
ing down Sackville Street, victorious, Skinner
suddenly stopped, and clenched his hands ; and
his face writhed as if he had received a death-
wound. In that instant Remorse had struck
him like lightning ; and, perhaps, whence comes
the lightning. The sweet face and voice that
had smiled on him, and cared for his body, and
cared for his soul, came to his mind and knocked
at his heart and conscience. He went home
miserable with an inward conflict ; and it lasted
him all the four days : sometimes Remorse got
the better, sometimes Avarice. He came to the
interview still undecided what he should do.
But, meantime, he had. gone to a lawyer and
made his will, leaving his little all to Julia Dodd :
a bad sign this ; looked like compounding with
his awakened conscience.
It was a dark and gusty night. Very few
people were about. Skinner waited a little
while, and shivered, for his avarice had post-
poned the purchase of a great-coat until Christ-
mas-day. At last, when the coast seemed clear,
Mr. Hardie emerged from a side street. Skin-
ner put his hand to his bosom.
They met. Mr. Hardie said, quietly, "I must
ask you, just for form, to show me you have the
Receipt.*'
" Of course. Sir ; but not so near, please : no
snatching, if 1 know it."
"You are wonderfully suspicious,** said Mr.
Hardie, trying to smile.
Skinner looked, and saw by the lamplight he
was deadly pale. "Keep your distance a mo-
ment, Sir," said he, and on Mr. Hardie's com-
plying, took the Receipt out, and held it up un-
der the lamp.
Instantly Mr. Hardie drew a life-preserver,
and sprang on with a savage curse. And ut-
tered a shriek of dismay ; for he was met by the
long shiny barrel of a horse-pistol, that Skinner
drew from his bosom, and leveled full in the hag-
gard face that came at him. Mr. Hardie re-
coiled, crying, **No! no! for Heaven's sake!"
" What !'* cried Skinner, stepping forward and
hissing, "do you think I'm such a fool as to
meet a thief unarmed ? Come, cash up, or I'll
blow you to atoms.'*
"No, no, no!" said Mr. Hardie, piteously,
retreating as Skinner marched on him with
long extended pistol. "Skinner,** he stam-
mered, " th-this is n-not b-b-business.'*
"Cash up, then; that's busine^. Fling the
five hundred pounds down, and walk away.
Mind it is loaded with two bullets ; I'll make a
double entry on your great treacherous carcass."
"It's no use trying to deceive such a man as
you," said Mr, Hardie, playing on "his vanity.
"I could not get the money before Saturday,
and so I listened to the dictates of despair. For-
give me.**
"Then come again Saturday night. Come
alone, and I shall bring a man to see I'm not
murdered. And look here. Sir, if you don't
come to the hour and do the right thing with-
out any more of these unbusiness-like tricks, by
Heaven I'll smash you before noon on Monday."
"I'll come."
"I'll blow you to Mr. Alfred and Miss Dodd."
"I'll come, I tell you."
" I'll post you for a thief on every brick in the
Exchange."
"Have mercy, Skinner. Have pity on the
wretched man whose bread you have eaten. I
tell you ril come.**
" Well, mind you do, then, cash and all," said
Skinner, sulkily, but not quite proof against the
reminiscences those humble words awakened.
Each walked backward a good dozen steps,
and then they took different roads. Skinner
taking good care not to be tracked home. He
went up the high stairs to the hole in the roof
he occupied, and lighted a rush-light. He had
half a mind to kindle a fire, he felt so chilly;
but he had stopped up the vent, partly to keep
out the cold, partly to shun the temptation of
burning fuel. However, he stopped the key-
hole with paper, and also the sides of the win-
dow, till he had shut the wintry air all out.
Still then, what with the cold and what with the
reaction after so great an excitement, his feeble
body began to shiver desperately. He thought
at last he would light a foot-warmer he had just
purchased for old iron at a broker's ; that would
only spend a halfpenny worth of charcoal. No
he wouldn't ; he would look at his money ; that
would cheer him. He unripped a certain part
of his straw mattress and took out a bag of gold.
He spread three hundred sovereigns on the floor
and put the candle down among them. They
sparkled ; they were all new ones, and he rubbed
them with an old tooth-brush and whiting every
week. "That's better than any fire," he said,
" they warm the heart. For one thing, they are
my own : at all events I did not steal them, nor
take them of a thief for a bribe to keep dark and
defraud honest folk." Then remorse gripped
VERY HAKD CASH.
241
him: he asked himself what he was goinp: to
do. " To rob an angel," was the answer. " The
fourteen thousand pounds is all hers, and I could
give it her in a moment Curse him, he would
have killed me for it.*'
Then he pottered about and took out his will.
" Ah, " said he, " that is all right, so far. But
what is a paltry three hundred when I help do
h*er out of fourteen thousand? Villain!" Then,
to ease his conscience, he took a slip of paper
and wrote on it a short account of the Receipt,
and how he came by it, and lo ! as if an unseen
power had guided his hand, he added, '*Miss
Dodd lives at 66 Pem*broke Street, and I am go-
ing to take it to her as soon as I am well of my
cold." Whether this preceded an unconscious
resolve which had worked on him secretly for
Rome time, or whether it awakened such a re-
solve, I hardly know : but certain it is, that hav.
ing written it, he now thought seriously of doing
it; andy the more seriously he entertained the
thought, the more good it seemed to do him. He
got "The Sinner's Friend" and another good book
she had lent him, and read a bit : then finding
his feet frozen he lighted his chafer and blew it
well, and put it under his feet and read. The
good wortU began to reach his heart more and
more : so did the thought of Julians goodness.
The chafer warmed his feet and legs. "Ay,"
fold he, "men don't want fires; warm the feet
end the body warms itself." He took out " The
Keceipt" and held it in his hand, and eyed it
greedily, and asked himself could he really part
with it. He thought he could to Julia. Still
holding it tight in his left hand, he read on the
good but solemn words that seemed to loosen his
grasp upon that ill-gotten paper. "How good
it was of her," he thought, " to come day after
day and feed a poor little fellow like him, body
and soul !" She asked nothing back. She didn't
know he could make her any return. "Bless
her ! bless her !'* he screamed. " Oh, how cruel
I have been to her, and she so kind to me I She
would never let me want, if I took her fourteen
thousand pounds. Like enough give me a thou-
sand ; and help me save my poor soul, that I
shall damn if I meet him again. I won't go his
way again. Lead us not into temptation. I re-
pent. Lord have mercy on me, a miserable sin-
ner !" And tears bedewed those wizened cheeks,
tears of penitence, sincere, at least for the time.
A sleepy languor now came over him, and the
good book fell from his hand : but his resolution
remained unshaken ; by-and-by waking up from
a sort of heavy doze he took, as it were, a last
look at the receipt, and murmured, "My head,
how heavy it feels 1" But presently he roused
himself, full of his penitent resolution, and mur-
mured again, brokenly, "I'll take it to Pem-
broke Street to morrow : to mor row."
CHAPTER LV.
Mr. Hardib raised the money on his scrip,
and at great inconvenience ; for he was holding
on five hundred thousand pounds' worth of old
Turkish Bonds over an unfavorable settling day,
and wanted every shilling to pay his broker. If
they did not rise by next settling day he was
a beggar. However, being now a desperate
gamester, and throwing for his last stake, he
borrowed this sum, and took it with a heavy
heart to his appointment with Skinner. Skinner
never came. Mr. Hardie waited till one o'clock.
Two o'clock. No Skinner. Mr. Hardie went
home hugging his five hundred pounds, but very
uneasy. Next day he consulted Peggy. She
shook her head, and said it looked very ugly.
Skinner had, most likely, got angrier and angrier
with thinking on the assault. "You will never
see him again till the day of the trial : and then
he will go down and bear false witness against
you. Why not leave the country ?"
"How can I, simpleton? My money is all
locked up in time-bargains. No, I'm tied to the
stake ; I'll fight to the last : and, if I'm defeated
and disgraced, I'll die, and end it."
Peggy implored him not to talk so. "I've
been down to the court,'* said she, softly, "to
see what it is like. There's a great hall ; and
he must pass through that to get into the little
places where they tiy 'em. Let me be in that
hall with the five hundred pounds, and I prom-
ise you he shall ncTcr appear against you. We
will both go; you with the money, I with my
woman's tongue."
He gave her his hand like a shaky monarch,
and said she had more wit than he had.
Mr. Heathfield, who had contrived to postpone
Hardie v. Hardie six times in spite of Compton,
could not hurry it on now with his co-operation.
It hung fire from some cause or another a good
fortnight; and in this fortnight Hardie senior
endured the tortures of suspense. Skinner made
no sign. At last there stood upon the paper,
for next day, a short case of disputed contract,
and Hardie v, Hardie.
The witnesses subpoenaed on either side in
Hardie v. Hardie began to arrive at ten o'clock,
and a tall, stately man paraded Westminster
Hall, to see if Skinner came with them ; all oth-
er anxieties had merged in this : for the counsel
had assured him if nothing unexpected turned
up, Thomas Hardie would have a verdict, or if
not, the damages would be nominal.
Now, this day, I must premise, was to settle
the whole lawsuit ; for, while trial of the issue
was being postponed and postponed, the legal
question had been argued and disposed of. The
very Queen's counsel, unfavorable to the suit,
was briefed with Garrow's views, and delivered
them in court with more skill, clearness, and
effect than Garrow ever could ; then sat down,
and whispered over rather contemptuously to Mr.
Compton, "That is your argument, I think."
" And admirably put," whispered the attorn^
ey, in reply.
"Well; now hear Saunders knock it to
pieces."
Instead of that, it was Sergeant Saunders that
got maltreated : first one judge had a peck at
him : then another : till they left him scarce a
feather to fly with ; and when Alfred's counsel
rose to reply, the judges stopped him, and the
chief of the court, Alfred's postponing enemy,
delivered his judgment after this fashion :
" We are all of opinion that this plea is bad
in law. By the common law of England no
person can b^ imprisoned as a lunatic unless
actually insane at the time. It has been held so
for centuries, and down to the last case. And
wisely ; for it would be most dangerous to the
242
VERY HARD CASH.
liberty of the subject, if a man could be impris-
oned without remedy unless he could prove mala
fides in the breast of the party incarcerating him.
As for tlie statute, it does not mend the matter,
but rather the reverse ; for it expressly protects
duly authorized persons acting under the order
and certificates, and this must be construed to
except from the protection of the statute the
person making the order.
The three puisne judges concurred, and pave
similar reasons. One of them said that if A. im-
prisoned B. for & felon, and B. sued him, it was
no defense to say that B., in his opinion, had
imitated felony. They cited Elliot- r. Allen,
Anderdon v. Burrows, and Lord Mansfield's
judgment in a very old case, the name of which
1 have unfortunately forgotten.
Judgment was entered for the plaintifij and
the defendant's ingenious plea struck off the rec-
ord ; and Hardie v. Hardie became the leading
case. But in law one party often wins the skirm-
ish and the other the battle. The grand fight,
as I have already said, was to be to-day.
But the high hopes and ardor with which the
young lovers had once come into court were now
worn out by the postponement swindle, and the
adverse events delay had brought on them. Al-
fred was not there : he was being examined in
the schools ; and had plumply refused to leave a
tnbnnal that named its day and kept it for
Westminster, until his counsel should have act-
ually opened the case. He did not believe trial
by jury would ever be allowed him. Julia was
there, but sad and comparatively listless. One
of those strange vague reports, which often her-
ald more circumstantial accounts, had come
home, whispering darkly that her father was
dead, and buried on an island in the South Sea.
She had kept this report from her mother, con-
trary to Edward's wish : but she implored him
to restrain his fatal openness. In one thing both
these sorely tried young people agreed, that there
could be no marriage with Alfred now. But
here again Julia entreated her brother not to be
candid ; not to teH Alfred this at present. * * Oh,
do not go and dispirit him just now," she said,
"or he will do something rash. No, he must
and shall get his first class, and win his trial ;
and then you know any lady will be too proud
to marry him ; and,|when he is married and hap-
py, you can tell him I did all I could for him,
and hunted up the witnesses, and was his loving
friend, though I could not be his wife."
She could not say this without crying ; but she
said it for all that, and meant it too.
Besides helping Mr. Compton to get up the
evidence, this true and earnest friend and lover
had attended the court day after day, to watch
how things were done, and, woman-like, to see
what phased and what displeased the court.
And so at last the court-crier cried, with a loud
voice, " Hardie r. Hardie I" Julia's eyes roved
very anxiously for Alfred, and up rose Mr. Gar-
row, and stated to the court the substance of
the declaration ; "to this," he said, "three pleas
have been pleaded : first, the plea of not guilty,
which is a formal plea ; also another plea, which
has been demurred to, and struck off" the rec-
ord ; and, lastly, that at the time of the alleged
imprisonment the plaintifi^ was of unsound mind,
and a fit person to be confined ; which is the is-
Bue now to be tried."
Mr. Garrow then sat down, very tired of this
preliminary work, and wondering when he should
have the luck to conduct such a case as Hardie
V. Hardie ; and leaned forward to be ready to
prompt his senior, a portly counsel, whom Mr.
Compton had retained because he was great at
addressing juries, and no point of law could now
arise in the case.
Colt, Q.C., rose like a tower, knowing very
little of the facts, and seeming to knpw every
thing. He had a prodigious business, and was
rather indolent, and often skimmed his brief at
home, and then mastered it in court ^if he got
time. Now, it is a good general's policy to open
a plaintifTs case warily, and reserve your rheto-
ric for the reply ; and Mr. Colt always took this
line when his manifold engagements compelled
him, as in Hardie v. Hardie, to teach his case
first and learn it afterward. I will only add,
that in the course of his opening he was on the
edge of seven distinct blunders; but Garrow
watched him, and always shot a whisper like a
bullet just in time. Colt took it, and glided
away from incipient error imperceptibly, and
with a tact you can have no conception of. The
jury did not detect the creaking of this machin-
ery ; Sergeant Saunders did, and grinned satir-
ically ; so did poor Julia, and her cheeks burned
and her eyes fiashed indignant fire. And, hor-
ror of horrors ! Alfred did not appear.
Mr. Colt's opening may be thus condensed:
The plaintifi" was a young gentleman of great
promise and distinction, on whom, as usual in
these cases of false imprisonment, money was
settled. He was a distinguished student at Eton
and Oxford, and no doubt was ever expressed
of his sanity till he proposed to marry, and take
his money out of his trustees' hands by a mar-
riage settlement. On this his father, who up to
that time had managed his funds as principal
trustee, showed him great personal hostility for
some time, and looked out for a tool : that tool
was soon found in his brother, the defendant, a
person who, it would be proved, had actually not
seen the plaintifi^for a year and a half, yet, with
great recklessness and inhumanity, had signed
away his liberty and his happiness behind his
back. Then tools of another kind the kind
that any body can buy, a couple of doctors
were, as usual, easily found to sign the certifi-
cates. One of these doctors had never seen him
but for five minutes, and signed in manifest col-
lusion with the other. They decoyed this poor
young gentleman away on his wedding morning
on his wedding morning, gentlemen, mark
that and consigned him to the woret of all dun-
geons. What he suffered there he must himself
relate to you ; for we, who have the happiness to
walk abroad in the air of reason and liberty, are
little able to realize the agony of mind endured
by a sane man confined among the insane.
What we undertake is to prove his sanity up to
the very hour of his incarceration ; and also that
he was quite sane at the time when a brutal at-
tempt to recapture him by violence was made
under the defendant's order, and defeated by his
own remarkable intelligence and courage, ^ong
with the facts the true reason why he was im-
prisoned will probably come out. But I am not
bound to prove sinister motives. It is for the
defendant to prove, if he can, that he had lawful
, motives for a lawless act ; and that he exercised
VERY HARD CASH.
243
due precantion, and did not lend himself reck-
lessly to the dark designs of others. If he suc-
ceed in this, that may go in mitigation of dam-
ages, though it can not affect the verdict. Our
principal object is the verdict, which will remove
the foul aspersion cast on my injured client, and
restore him to society. And to this verdict we
are entitled, unless the other side can prove the
plaintiff was insane. Call Alfred Hardie.
And with this he sat down.
An official called Alfred Hardie very loud ; ho
made n o reply. Julia rose from her seat with dis-
may painted on her countenanca Compton's,
Garrow's, and Colt's heads clashed together.
Mr. Colt jumped up again, and said, **My
Lud, I was not aware the gentleman they accuse
of insanity is just being examined for high honors
in the University of Oxford." Aside to Comp-
ton, *'And if he doesn't come, you may give
them the verdict.'*
"Well," said the judge, **I suppose he will
be here before you close your case."
On this the three heads clashed again, and
Saunders, Q.C., for the defendant, popped up
and said with great politeness, and affectation
of sympathy, " My Lud, I can quite understand
my learned friend's hesitation to produce his
principal witness."
"You understand nothing about the matter,"
said Colt, cavalierly. " Call Mr. Harrington."
Mr. Harrington was Alfred's tutor at Eton,
and deposed to his sanity there: he was not
cross-examined. After him they went on step
by step with a fresh witness for every six months,
till they brought him close to the date of his in-
carceration : then they put in one of Julia's wit-
nesses, Peterson, who swore Alfred had talked
to him like a sane person that very morning;
and repeated what had passed. Cross-examina-
tion only elicited that he and Alfred were no
longer good friends, which rather strengthened
the evidence. Then Giles and Hannah, now
man and wife, were called, and swore he was
sane all the time he was at Silverton House.
Mr. Saunders diminished the effect by eliciting
that they had left on bad terms with Mr. Baker,
and that Alfred had given them money since.
But this was half-cured on re-&amination, by
being set down to gratitude on Alfred's part.
And now the judge went to luncheon ; and in
came a telegraphic message to say Alfred was in
the fast train coming up. This was good news,
and bad. They had hoped he would drop in be-
fore. They were approaching that period of the
case when not to call the plaintiff must produce
a vile ipg^r^ion. The judge, out of good-na-
ture I suspect, was longer at luncheon than usu-
al, and every minute was so much gained to Mr..
Compton and Julia, who were in a miserable
state of anxiety. Yet it was equaled by Richard
Hardie's, who never entered the court, but paced
the hall the livelong day to intercept Noah Skin-
ner. And when I tell you that Julia had con-
sulted Mr, Green, and that he had instantly pro-
nounced Mr. Barkington to be a man from Bark-
ington who knew the truth about the fourteen
thousand pounds, and that the said Green and
his myrmidons were hunting Mr. Barkington
like beagles, you will see that R. Hardie's was
no vain terror. At last the judje returned, and
Mr. Colt was obliged to put in his reserves ; so
called Dr. Sampson. Instantly a very dull trial
became an amusing one ; the scorn with which
he treated the opinion of Dr. Wycherley and Mr.
Speers, and medical certificates in general, was
so droll coming from a doctor, and so racily ex-
pressed, that the court was convulsed. Also in
cross-examination by Saunders he sparred away
in such gallant style with that accomplished ad-
vocate that it was mighty refreshing. The j udge
put in a few intelligent questions after counsel
had done, and surprised all the doctors in court
with these words: "lam a%are, Sir, that you
were the main instrument in putting down blood-
letting in this country."
What made Sampson's evidence particularly
strong was that he had seen the plaintiff the
evening before his imprisonment.
At this moment three men, all of them known
to the reader, entered the court ; one was our old
acquaintance Fullalove, another was of course
Vespasian ; and the third was the missing plaint-
iff.
A buzz announced his arrival ; and expecta-
tion rose high. Mr. Colt called him with ad-
mirably-feigned nonchalance: he stepped into
the box, and there was a murmur of surprise and
admiration at his bright countenance and man-
ly bearing.
Of course, to give his evidence would-be to
write "Hard Cash" over again. It is enough
to say that his examination in chief lasted all
that day, and an hour of the next.
Colt took him into the asylum, and bade him
say what he had suffered there to swell the dam-
ages. The main points his examination in chief
established were his sanity during his whole
life, the money settled on him, the means the
doctors took to irritate him, and then sign him
excited, the subserviency of his uncle to his fa-
ther, the double motive his father had in getting
him imprisoned; the business of the 14,000.
When Colt sat down at eleven o'clock on the
second day, the jury looked indignant, and the
judge looked very grave, and the case very black.
Mr. Saunders electrified his attorney by say-
ing, "My advice is, don't cross-examine him."
Heathfield implored him not to take so strange
a course.
On this Saunders shrugged his shoulders,
rose, and cross-examined Alfred about the vision
of one Captain Dodd he had seen, and about his
suspicions of his father. "Had not Richard
Hardie always been a kind and liberal father ?'*
To this he assented. " Had he not sacrificed a
large fortune to his creditors ?" Plaintiff be-
lieved so. "On reflection, then, did not plaint-
iff think he must have been under an illusion ?"
No ; he had gone by direct evidence.
Confining himself sagacionsly to this one ques-
tion, and exerting all his skill and pertinacity,
Saunders succeeded in convincing the court that
the Hard Cash was a myth : a pure cliimera.
The defendant's case looked up; for there are
many intelligent madmen with a single illusion.
The re-examination was of course very short,
but telling; for Alfred swore that Miss Julia
Dodd had helped him to carry home the phan-
tom of her father, and that Miss Dodd had a
letter from her father to say that he was about
to sail with the other phantom, the 14,000.
Here Mr. Saunders interposed, and said that
evidence was inadmissible. Let him call Miss
Dodd.
24i
VERY HARD CASH.
Colt. How do you know I'm not going to
call her?
The Judge. If you are, it is superfluous ; if
ijot, it is inadmissible.
Mr. Compton cast an inquiring glance up at a
certain gallery. A beautiful girl bowed her head
lA reply, with a warm blush and such a flash of
h"r eye, and Mr. Colt said, "As my learned
fkiond is afraid to cross-examine the plaintiff" on
any point but this, and as I mean to respond to
his challenge, and^all Miss Dodd, I will not
trouble the plaintiff^ any further.
Through the whole ordeal Alfred showed a
certain flavor of Eton and Oxford that won all
hearts. His replies were frank and honest, and
utuler cross-examination he was no more to be
in-itated than if Saunders had been Harrow
bowling at him, or the Robin sparring with him.
The sergeant, who was a gentleman, indicated
same little regret at the possible annoyance he
vas causing him. Alfred replied, with a grand
air of good fellowship, "Do not think so poorly
of me as to suppose I feel aggrieved because you
are an able advocate and do your duty to your
client, Sir."
The Judge. That is very handsomely said.
1 am afraid you have got an awkward customer,
in a case of this kind, brother Saunders.
Sergt. S. It is not for want of brains he is
mad. my lord.
Alfred. That is a comfort, any way. (Laugh-
ter.)
When connsel had done with him, the judge
used his right, and put several shrewd and un-
nsual questions to him : asked him to define in-
stxnity : he said he could only do it by examples :
and he abridged several intelligent madmen,
their words and ways; and contrasted them
with the five or six sane people he had fallen in
with in asylums; showing his lordship plainly
tliat he coulH tell any insane person whatever
from a sane one, and vice versa. This was the
n.ost remarkable part of the trial, to see this
shrewd old judge extracting from a real observer
and logical thinker those positive indicia of san-
ity and insanity, which exist, but which no law-
yer has ever yet been able to extract from any
psychological physician in the witness-box. At
last he was relieved, and sat sucking an orange
among the spectators ; for they had parched his
throat among them, I promise you.
Julia Dodd entered the box, and a sunbeam
seemed to fill the court. She knew what to do :
her left hand was gloved, but her white right
hand bare. She kissed the book, and gave her
evidence in her clear, mellow, melting voice ;
gave it reverently and modestly, for to her the
court was a church. She said how long she
had been acquainted with Alfred, and how his
father was adverse, and her mother had thought
it was because they did not pass for rich, and
had told her they were rich, and with this she
produced David's letter, and she also swore to
having met Alfred and others carrying her father
in a swoon from his father's very door. She
deposed to Alfred's sanity on her wedding eve,
and on the day his recapture was attempted.
Saundere, against his own judgment, was in-
structed to cross-examine her; and, without
meaning it, he put a question which gave her
deep distress. "Are you now engaged to the
pJmntiif?" She looked timidly round, and saw
Alfred, and hesitated. The sergeant pressed her
politely, but firmly.
" Must I reply to that ?" she said, piteously.
"If you please."
"Then, no. Another misfortune has now
separated him and me forever."
" What is that, pray ?"
" My father is said to have died at sea : and
my mother thinks he is to blame."
The Judge, to Saunders. What on earth has
this to do with Hardie against Hardie ?
Saunders. ^You are warmly interested in the
plaintiff's success ?
Julia. Oh yes, Sir.
Colt (aside to Garrow. The fool is putting
his foot into it : there's not a jury in England
that would give a verdict to part two interesting
young lovers.)
Saunders. ^You are attached to him?
Julia. Ah, that I do.
This burst, intended for poor Alfred, not the
court, baffled cross-examination and grammar
and every thing else. Saunders was kind and
generous, and said no more.
Colt cast a glance of triumph, and declined to
re-examine. He always let well alone. The
judge, however, evinced a desire to trace the
fourteen thousand pounds from Calcutta; but
Julia could not help him : that mysterious sum
had been announced by letter as about to sail,
and then no more was heard abont it till Alfred
accused his father of having it. All endeavors
to fill this hiatus failed. However, D^ulia, ob-
serving that in courts material objects aff*ect the
mind most, had provided herself with all* the
pieces de conviction she could find, and she pro-
duced her father's empty pocket-book, and said,
when he was brought home senseless, this was
in his breast-pocket.
" Hand it up to me," said the judge. He ex-
amined it, and said it had been in the water.
"Captain Dodd was wrecked off' the French
coast," suggested Mr. Saunders.
" My learned friend had better go into the
witness-box, if he means to give evidence," said
Mr. Colt.
" You are very much afraid of a very little
truth,'* retorted Saunders.
The judge stopped this sham rencontre, by
asking the witness whether her father had been
wrecked. She said " Yes."
"And that is how the money was lost," per-
sisted Saundcrs.-
" Possibly," said the judge.
* * I'm darned if it was, " said Joshua Fullalove,
composedly.
Instantly all heads were turned in amazement
at this audacious interruption to the soporific
decorum of an English court. The transatlantic
citizen received this battery of eyes with com-
plete imperturbability.
" Si-lence !" roared the crier, awaking from a
nap, with an instinct that something unusual
had happened. But the shrewd old judge had
caught the sincerity with which the words were
uttered ; and put on his spectacles to examine
the speaker.
"Are you for the plaintiff" or the defend-
ant?"
" I don't know either of 'em from Adam, my
lord. But I know Captain Dodd's pocket-book
by the bullet-hole."
VERY HARD CASH.
245
"Indeed! You had better call this witness,
Mr. Colt."
"Your lordship must excuse me; I am quite
content with the evidence."
" Well, then, I shall call him as amicus curisB ;
and the defendant's counsel can cross-examine
him."
Fnllalove went into the box, was sworn, iden-
tified the pocket-book, and swore he had seen
fourteen thousand pounds in it on two occasions.
With very little prompting, he told the sea-fight,
and the Indian darkey's attempt to steal the
money, and pointed out Vespasian as the rival
darkey who had bafiied the attempt. Then he
told the shipwreck to an audience now breath-
less and imagine the astonished interest with
which Julia and Edward listened to this stran-
ger telling them the new strange story of their
own father ! and lastly, the attempt of the two
French wreckers and assassins, and how it had
been baffled. And so the mythical cash was
tracked to Boulogne.
The judge then put this question, "Did Cap-
tain Dodd tell you what he intended to do with
it?"
Fullalovo (reverently). ^I think, my lord, he
said he was going to give it to his wife. (Sharp-
ly.) Well, what is it, old boss ? What are you
making mugs at me for? don't you know it's
clean against law to telegraph a citizen in the
witness-box?
The Judge. This won't do ; this won't do.
The Crier. Si-lence in the court I
"Do you hyar now what his lordship says?"
said Fullalove, with ready tact. " If you know
any thing more, come up hyar and swear it like
an enlightened citizen ; do you think I'm going
to swear for tew." With this Vespasian and
Fullalove proceeded to change places amidst
roars of laughter at the cool off-hand way this
pair arranged forensicalities ; but Sergeant Saun-
ders requested Fullalove to stay where he was.
"Pray, Sir," said he, slowly, "who retained
you for a witness in this cause?"
Fullalove looked puzzled.
" Of course somebody asked you to drop in
here so very accidentally : come now, who was
it?"
"I'm God Amighty's witness dropped from
the clouds, I cal'late."
" Come, Sir, no prevarication. How came
you here just at the nick of time ?"
" Counselor, when I'm treated polite I'm ilej
but rile me and raise my dander I'm thunder
stuffed with pison : don't you, and I'll tell you.
I have undertaken to educate this yar darkey"
here he stretched out a long arm, and laid his
hand on Vespasian's woolly pate "and I'm
bound to raise him to the Eu-ropean model."
(Laughter.) " So I said to him, coming over
Westminster Bridge, Now there's a store hyar
where they sell a very extraordinary Fixin ; and
it's called Justice : they sell it tarnation dear ;
but prime. So I make tracks for the very court
where I got the prime article three years ago,
against a varmint that was breaking the seventh
and eighth commandments over me, adulterating
my patent and then stealing it. Blast him!"
(A roar of laughter.) "And coming along I
said this old country's got some good pints after
all, old boss. One is, they'll sell you justice
deaf, Imt prime, in these yar courts, if you were
bom at Kamschatkee; and the other is, hyar
darkeys are free as air, disenthralled by the uni-
versal genius of British liberty ; and then I pitch-
ed Counselor Curran's bunkum into this darkey,
and he sucked it in like mother's milk, and in
we came on tip-toe, and the first thing we heard
was a free-born Briton treated wus than ever a
nigger in Old Ken tuck, decoyed away from his
gal, shoved into a darned mad-house ^tbe dar-
bies clapped on him "
" We don't want your comments on the case.
Sir."
"No, nor any other free and enlightened
citizen's, I reckon. Wa'al, Vespasian and me
sat like mice in a snow-drift, and hid our feel-
ings out of good manners, being strangers, till
his lordship got e-tarnally fixed about the cap-
tain's pocket-book. Vesp., says I, this hurts
my feelings powerful. Says I, this hyar lord
did the right thing about my patent, he summed
up just : and now he is in an everlasting fix him-
self ; one good turn deserves another, I'll get
him out of this fix, any way." Here the witness
was interrupted with a roar of laughter that
shook the court. Even the judge leaned back
and chuckled, genially, though quietly. And
right sorrowful was eveiy Hriton there when
Saunders closed abruptly the cross-examination
of Joshua Fullalove.
His lordship then said he wished to ask Ves-
pasian a question.
Saunders lost patience. * * What, another am i-
cus curiae, my lud ! This is unprecedented."
"Excuse my curiosity, Brother Saunders,"
said the judge, ironically. * * I wish to trace this
14,000 as far as possible. Have you any par-
ticular objection to the truth on this head of evi-
dence ?"
"No, my lud, I never urge objections when I
can't enforce them."
"Then you are a wise man. (To "frespasian
after he had been sworn.) Pray did Captain
Dodd tell you what he intended to do with this
money ?"
" Is, massa judge, massa captan told dis child
he got a branker in some place in de ole cuntry,
called Barkinton. And he said dis branker bery
good branker, much sartainer not to break dan
the brank of England. (A howl.) De captan
said he take de money to dis yer branker, and
den hab no more trouble with it. Den it off my
stomach, de captan say, and dis child heerd him.
Yahl"
The plantiff's case being apparently con-
cluded, the judge went to luncheon.
In the buzz that followed, a note was handed
to Mr. Compton: ^^ Skinner I On a hot scent.
Sure to find him to-day. N.B. He is wanted
by another party. There is something curious
afoot!"
Compton wrote on a slip, "For Heaven's sake
bring him directly. In half an hour it will be
too late."
Green hurried out and nearly ran against Mr.
Richard Hardie, who was moodily pacing West-
minster Hall at the climax of his own anxiety.
To him all turned on Skinner. Five minutes
passed, ten, fifteen, twenty: all the plantiff"8
party had their eyes on the door ; but Green did
not return ; and the judge did. Then to gmn
a few minutes more, Mr. Colt, instructed by
246
VERY HARD CASH.
Compton, rose and said, with great solemnity,
" We are about to call our last witness ; the liv-
ing have testified to ray client's sanity ; and now
we shall read you the testimony of the dead."
Saunders. That I object to, of course.
Colt. Does my learned friend mean to say
he objects at random ?
Saunders. ^Nothing of the kind. I object on
the law of evidence, a matter on which my
learned friend seems to be under a hallucination
as complete as his clients about that 14,000.
Colt. There's none ever feared
That the truth should be heard
But they whom the truth would indict.
Saunders. I've as little respect for old songs
in a court of justice as I have for new law.
Colt. Really my learned friend is the ob-
jective case incarnate. (To Compton. I can't
keep this nonsense up forever. Is Skinner
come?) He has a Mania for objection, and
with your lordship's permission I'll buy a couple
of doctors and lock him up in an asylum as he
leaves the court this afternoon. (Laughter).
The Judge. A very good plan : then you'll
no l0nger feel the weight of his abilities. I
conclude, Mr. Colt, you intend to call a witness
who will swear to the deceased person's hand-
writing, and that it was written in the knowl-
edge Death was at hand.
Colt. Certainly, my lord. I can call Miss
J'ulia Dodd. '
Saunders. That I need not take the trouble
of objecting to.
The Judge (with some surprise). ^No, Mr.
Colt. That will never do. You have examined
her, and re-examined her.
I need hardly say Mr. Colt knew very well he
could not call Julia Dodd. But he was fighting
for seconds now, to get in Skinner. ** Call Ed-
ward D^dd."
Edward was sworn, and asked if he knew the
late Jane Hardie.
"I knew her well," said he.
**Is that her handwriting?"
"It is."
" Where was it written ?"
** In my mother's house, at Barkington."
** Under what circumstances?"
** She was dying of a blow given her by a
maniac called Maxley."
**Maxley!" said the judge to counsel. "I
remember the Queen v. Maxley. I tried it my-
self at the Assizes : it was for striking a young
lady with a bludgeon, of which she died. Max-
ley was powerfully defended ; and it was proved
that his wife had died, and he had been driven
mad for a time, by her father's bank breaking.
The jury would bring in a verdict that was no
verdict at all ; as I took the liberty to tell them
at the time. The judges dismissed it, and Max-
ley was eventually discharged."
Colt. "No doubt that was the case, my
lord." To the witness. "Did Jane Hardie
know she was dying ?'*
" Oh yes. Sir. She told us all so."
"To whom did she give this letter?'*
"To my sister."
* * Oh, to your sister ? To Miss Julia Dodd ?"
"Yes, Sir. But not for herself. It was to
give to Alfred Hardie."
"Can you read the letter? it is rather faintly
fnittcn. It is written in pencil, my lord."
* * I could read it, Sir ; but I hope you will ex-
cuse me. She that wrote it was very, very dear
to me,"
The young man's full voice faltered as he ut-
tered these words, and he turned his lion-like
eyes soft and imploring on the judge. That
venerable and shrewd old man, learned in hu-
man nature as well as in law, comprehended in
a moment, and said, kindly, "You misunder-
stand him. Witnesses do not read letters out in
court. Let the letter be handed up to me."
This was fortunate, for the court cuckoo, who
intones most letters, would have read all the
sense and pathos out of this with .his monoto-
nous sing-song.
The judge read it carefully to himself with his
glasses, and told the jury it seemed a genuine
document ; then the crier cried " Silence in the
court !" and his lordship, turned toward the jnry
and read the letter slowly and solemnly :
"Dear, dear Brother, ^Your poor lit-
tle Jane lies dydjg, suddenly but not pain-
fully, AND MY LAST EARTHLY THOUGHTS ARE
FOR MY DARLING BROTHER. SOMB WICKED
PERSON HAS SAID YOU ARE INSANE. I DENT
THIS WITH MY DYING BREATH AND MY DYING
HAND. You CAME TO ME THE NIGHT BEFORE
THE WEDDING THAT WAS TO BE, AND TALKED
TO ME MOST CALMLY, RATIONALLY, AND KINDLY;
SO THAT I COULD NOT RESIST YOUR REASONS,
AND WENT TO YOUR WEDDING, WHICH, TILL
THEN, I DID NOT INTEND. ShOW THESE WORDS
to your slanderers when i am no more.
But oh ! Alfred, even this is of little mo-
ment COMPARED WITH THE WORLD TO COME.
By all our AFFECTION GRANT ME ONE BE-
QUEST. Battered, wounded, dying in my
PRIME, WHAT WOULD BE MY CONDITION BUT FOR
THE Saviour, whom I have loved, and with
WHOM I HOPE SOON TO BE. He SMOOTHS THE
BED OF DEATH FOR ME, He LIGHTS THE DARK
VALLEY ; I REJOICE TO DIB AND BE WITH HiM.
Oh, turn to lllM, DEAR BROTHER, WITHOOT
ONE hour's delay, AND THEN HOW SHORT WILL
BE THIS PARTING ! ThIS IS YOUR DYING SISTERS
ONE REQUEST, WHO LOVES YOU DEARLY."
With the exception of Julia's sobs, not a sound
was heard as the judge read it. Many eyes were
wet : and the judge himself was visibly aflfected,
and pressed his handkerchief a moment to his
eyes. "These are the words of a Christian wo-
man, gentlemen," he said: and there was silence.
A girl's hand seemed to have risen from the
grave to defend her brother and rend the veil
from falsehood.
Mr. Colt, out of pure tact, subdued his voiie
to the key of the sentiment thus awakened, and
said, impressively, " Gentlemen of the jury, that
is our case :'* and so sat down.
CHAPTER LVI.
Sergeant Saunders thought it prudent to
let the emotion subside before opening the de-
fendant's case : so he disarranged his papers, and
then rearranged them as before : and, during
this, a person employed by Richard Hardie went
out and told him this last untoward piece of ev-
idence. He winced : but all was ov^balanccd
VERY HARD CASH.
247
by this, that Skinner's evidence was now inad-
missible in the cause. He breathed more freely.
Sergeant Saunders rose with perfect dignity
and confidence, and delivered a masterly address.
In less than ten minutes the whole affair took
another color under that plausible tongue. The
tactician began by declaring that the plaintiff
was perfectly sane, and his convalescence was
a matter of such joy to the defenJant, that not
even the cruel misintei-pretation of facts and mo-
^tives, to which his amiable client had been ex-
posed,' could rob him of that sacred delight.
**Our case, gentlemen, is, that the plaintiff is
sane, and that he owes his sanity to those prompt,
wise, and benevolent measures, which we took
eighteen months ago, at an unhappy crisis of
his mind, to preserve his understanding and his
property. Yes, his property, gentlemen; that
property which, in a paroxysm of mania, he was
going to throw away, as I shall show you by an
nnanswerable document. He comes here to
slander us and mulct us out of five thousand
pounds ; but I shall show you he is already ten
thousand pounds the richer for that act of ours,
for which he debits us five thousand pounds, in-
stead of crediting us twice the sum. Gentlemen,
I can not, like my learned friend, call witnesses
from the clouds, from the United States, and
from the grave, because it has not occurred to
my client, strong in the sense of his kindly
and honorable intentions, to engage gentlemen
from foreign parts with woolly locks, and nasal
twangs, to drop in accidentally, and eke out the
fatal gaps in evidence. The class of testimony
we stand upon is less romantic : it does not se-
duce the imagination nor play upon the pas-
sions ; but it is of a much higher character in
sober men's eyes, especially in a court of law.
I rely, not on witnesses dropped from the clouds,
and the stars, and the stripes to order, nor
even on the prejudiced statements of friends and
sweet-hearts, who always swear from the heart
rather than from the head and the conscience ;
but on the calm testimony of indifferent men,
and on written documents furnished by the plaint-
iff, and on contemporaneous entries in the books
of the asylum, which entries formally describe
the plaintiff's acts, and were put down at the
time at the time, gentlemen with no idea of
a trial at law to come, but in compliance with
the very proper provisions of a wise and salutary
Act. I shall also lay before you the evidence
of the medical witnesses who signed the certifi-
cates, men of probity and honor, and who have
made these subtle maladies of the mind the spe-
cial study of their whole life. I shall also call
the* family doctor, who has known the plaintiff
and his ailments, bodily and mental, for many
yeai-8, and communicated his suspicions to one
of the first psychological physicians of the age,
declining, with a modesty which we, who know
less of insanity than he does, would do well to
imitate declining, I say, to pronounce a posi-
tive opinion unfavorable to the plaintiff, till he
should have compared notes with this learned
man, and profited by his vast experience."
In this strain he continued for a good hour,
until the defendant's case seemed to be a thing
of granite. His oration ended, he called a string
of witnesses : every one of whom bore the learn-
ed counsel out by his evidence in chief.
But here came the grand distinction between
the defendant's case and the plaintiff's. Cross-
examination had hardly shaken the plaintiffs
witnesses : it literally dissolved the defendant's.
Osmond was called, and proved Alfred's head-
aches and pallor, and his own suspicions. But
then Colt forced him to admit that many young
people had headaches without going mad, and
were pale when thwarted injove, without going
mad : and that as to the 14,000 and the phan-
tom he knew nothing, but had taken all that for
granted on Mr. Richard Hardie's word.
Dr. Wycherley deposed to Alfred's being in-
sane and abnormally irritable, and under a pe-
cuniary illusion, as stated in his certificate : and
to his own vast experience. But the fire of cross-
examination melted all his 'polysyllables into
guess-work and hearsay. It melted out of him
that he, a stranger, had intruded on the young
man's privacy, and had burst into a most deli-
cate topic, his disagreement with his father, and
so had himself created the very irritation he had
set down to m%dness. He also had to admit
that he knew nothing about the 14,000 or the
phantom, but had taken for granted the young
man's own father, who consulted him, was not
telling him a deliberate and wicked falsehood.
Colt. In short. Sir, you were retained to
make the man out insane, just as my learned
friend there is retained.
Wycherley. I think. Sir, it would not be
consistent with the dignity of mj profession to
notice that comparison.
Colt. 1 leave defendant's counsel to thank
you for that. Come, never mind dignity ; let us
nave a little truth. Is it consistent with your
dignity to tell us whether the keepers of private
asylums pay you a commission for all the pa-
tients you consign to durance vile by your cer-
tificates?
Dr. Wycherley fenced with this question, but
the remorseless Colt only kept hint longer under
torture, and dragged out of him that he received
fifteen per cent, from the asylum keepers for ev-
ery patient he wrote insane; and that he had
an income of eight hundred pounds a year from
that source alone. This, of course, was the very
thing to prejudice a jury against the defense :
and Colt's art was to keep to their level.
Speers, cross-examined, failed to conceal that
he was a mere tool of WyCherley's, and had
signed in manifest collusion, adhering to the
letter of the statute, but violating its spirit : for
certainly, the act never intended by "separate
examination," that two doctors should come into
the passage, and walk into the room alternately,
then reunite, and do the signing as agreed be-
fore they eyer saw the patient. As to the illu-
sion about the fourteen thousand pounds, Speers
owned that the plaintiff had not uttered a word
about the subject, but had peremptorily declined
it. He had to confess, too, that he had taken
for granted Dr. Wycherley was correctly in-
formed about the said illusion.
"In short," said the judge, interposing, "Dr.
Wycherley took the very thing for granted which
it was his duty to ascertain : and you. Sir, not
to be behind Dr. Wycherley, took the thing for
granted at second-hand." And when Speers
had left the box, he said to Sergeant Saunders,
"If this case is to be defended seriously, you had
better call Mr. Richard Hardio without further
delay."
248
VERY HARD CASH.
**It is my wish, my lud; hut I am sorry to
say he is in the country very ill ; and I have no
hope of seeing him here to-morrow."
** Oh, well ; 80 that you do call him. I shall
not lay hearsay before the jury : hearsay gath-
ered from Mr. Richard Hardie whom you will
call in person if the reports he has circulated
have any basis whatever in truth."
Mr. Saunders said, coolly, "Mr. Richard
Hardie is not the defendant," and flowed on ;
nor would any but a lawyer have suspected what
a terrible stab the judge had given him so quietly.
The surgeon of Silverton House was then
sworn, and produced the case book ; and there
stood the entries which had been so fatal to
Alfred with the visiting justices. Suicide, hom-
icide, self-starvation. But the plaintiiF got to
Mr. Colt with a piece of paper, on which he had
written his view of all this, and cross-examina-
tion dissolved the suicide and homicide into a
spirited attempt to escape and resist a false im-
prisonment. As for the selfc-starvation, Colt
elicited that Alfred had eaten at six o'clock
though not at two. * And pray. Sir," said he,
contemptuously, to the witness, "do you never
stir out of a mad-house ? Do you imagine that
gentlemen in their senses dine at two o'clock in
the nineteenth century?'*
"No. 1 don't say that."
"What do you say, then? Is forcible im-
prisonment of a bridegroom in a mad-house the
thing to give a gentleman a factitious appetite
at your barbarous dinner-hour ?"
In a word, Colt was rough with this witness,
and nearly smashed him. Saunders fought gal-
lantly on, and put in Lawyer Crawford with his
draft of the insane deed, as he called it, by which
the erotic monomaniac Alfred divested himself
of all his money in favor of the Dodds. There
was no dissolving this deed away ; and Crawford
swore he had entreated the plaintifl^not to insist
on his drawing so unheard-of a document ; but
opposition or question seemed to irritate his
client so that he had complied, and thie deed was
to have been signed on the wedding-day.
All the lawyers present thought this looked
really mad. Fancy a man signing away his prop-
erty to his wife's relatives! The court, which
had already sat long beyond the usual time, broke
up, leaving the defendant with this advantage.
Alfred Hardie and his friends made a little knot
in the hall outside, and talked excitedly over the
incidents of the trial. Mr. Compton introduced
FuUalove and Vespasian. They all shook hands
with this, and thanked them warmly for the
timely and most unexpected aid. But Green and
a myrmidon broke in upon their conversation.
"I am down on Mr. Barkington, alias Noah
Skinner. It isn't very far from here, if you will
follow me. " Green was as excited as a fox-hound
when Pug has begun to trail his brush ; the more
so that another client of his wanted Noah Skin-
ner ; and so the detective was doing a double
stroke of business. He led the way ; it was diy,
and they all went in pairs after him into the back
slums of Westminster : and a pretty part that is.
Now as they went along Alfred hung behind
with Julia, and asked her what on earth she
meant by swearing that it was all over between
her and him. "Why, your last letter was full
of love, dearest ; what could you be thinking of
to say that r'
She shook her head sadly, and revealed o
him, with many prayers for forgiveness, that sLo
had b(;en playing a part of late : that she had
concealed her father's death from him, and tlie
fatal barrier interposed. "I was afraid yon
would be disheartened, and lose your first class,
and perhaps your trial. But you are safe
now, dear Alfred; I am sure the judge sees
through them ; for I have studied him for you
I \Tioyr his face by heart, and all his looks and
what they mean. My Alfred will be cleared of
this wicked slander, and happy with some one
Ah!"
" Yes, I mean to be happy with some one,"
said Alfred. "I am not one of your self-sacri-
ficing fools. You shall not sacrifice me to your
mother's injustice nor to the caprices of fate.
We love one another; but you would immolate
me for the pleasure of immolating yourself
Don't provoke me, or I'll carry you off^ by forca
I swear it, by Him who made us both."
"Dearest, how wildly you talk." She hung
her head, and had a guilty thrill. She could not
help thinking that eccentric little measure would
relieve her of the sin of disobedience.
* * I'll do it too,'* said he. " I'm not a man to
be beat.'*
After uttering this doughty resolution he was
quite silent, and they went sadly side by side; so
dear, so near, yet always some infernal thing or
other coming between them. They reached a
passage in a miserable street. At the 'mouth
stood two of Green's men, planted there to fol-
low Skinner should he go out : but they reported
all quiet. "Bring the old gentleman up, "said
Green. " I appointed him six o'clock, and it's
on the stroke." He then descended the passage,
and striking a light led the way up a high stair.
Skinner lived on the fifth story. Green tapped
at his door. "Mr. Barkington."
No reply.
"Mr. Barkington, I've brought you some
money.'*
No reply.
" Perhaps he is not at home," said Mr. Comp-
ton.
"Oh yes, Sir, I sent a sharp boy up, and he
picked the paper out of the keyhole and saw him
sitting reading."
He then applied his own eye to the keyhole.
"I see something black," said he, "I thmk he
suspects."
While he hesitated, they became conscious of
a pungent vapor stealing through the now open
keyhole.
"Hallo!" said Green, "What is this?"
Fullalove observed coolly that Mr. Skinner's
lungs must be peculiarly made if he could fireathe
in that atmosphere. "If you want to see him
alive, let me open the door."
"There's something amiss here,** said Green,
gravely.
At that Fullalove whipped out a tool no bigger
than a nut-cracker, forced the edge in, and sent
the door flying open. The room or den was full
of an acrid vapor, and dose to them sat he they
sought motionless.
" Keep the lady back,** cried Green, and threw
the vivid light of his bull's-eye on a strange,
grotesque, and ghastly scene. The floor irai
covered with bright sovereigns that glittered in
the lamp-light. On the table was an open book,
VERY HARD CASH.
251
a bellows and pipe so acted on the lungs that
at last a genuine sigh issued from the patient's
breast. Then they put him in a warm bed, and
applied stimulants ; and by slow degrees the eye-
lids began to wink, the eyes to look more mel-
low, the respiration to strengthen, the heart to
beat: ''Patience, now," said the surgeon, ''pa-
tience, and lots of air."
Patience was rewarded. Just four hours after
the first treatment, a voice, faint but calm and
genial, issued from the bed on their astonished
ears, "Good-morning to you all."
They kept very quiet. In about five minutes
more the voice broke out again, calm and sono-
rous.
* ' Where is mt money ? my fourteen thou-
sand POUNDS.'*
These words set them all looking at one an-
other; and very much puzzled the surgeon:
they were delivered with such sobriety and con-
viction. "Captain," he whispered, "ask h^m
if he knows you."
"David," said the captain, kindly, "do you
know me?"
David looked at him earnestly, and his old
kindly smile broke out, "Know ye, ye dog,"
said he, "why you are my cousin Regindd.
And how came you into this thundering Bank ?
I hope yon have got no money here. Ware
land sharks !"
" We are not in a Bank, David ; we are on
board my ship."
' ' The deuce we are. But where's my money ?"
"Oh, we'll talk about that by-and-by."
The surgeon stepped fopvard and said, sooth-
ingly, ** You have been very ill. Sir. You have
had a fit."
'* I believe you are right," said David, thought-
fully.
'* Will you allow me to examine your eye?"
"Certainly, doctor."
The surgeon examined David's eye with his
thumb and finger; and then looked into it to
see how the pupil dilated and contracted.
He rubbed his hands after this examination ;
"More good news, captain!" then lowering his
voice, " Your friend is as sane as lam,"
The surgeon was right. A shock had brought
back the reason a shock had taken awav. But
how or why I know no more than the child un-
born. The surgeon wrote a learned paper, and
explained the whole most ingeniously. I don't
believe one word of his explanation, and can't
better it, so confine myself to the phenomena.
Being now sane, the boundary wall of his mem-
ory was shifted. He remembered his whole life
up to his demanding his cash back of Richard
Hardie : and there his reawakened mind stopped
dead short. Being asked if he knew William
Thompson, he said, "Yes, perfectly. The man
was a foretopman on board the Agra, and rath-
er a smart hand. The ship being aground, he
came out to sea on a piano: but we cut the
hawser and he got safe ashore." His recovered
reason rejected with contempt as an idle dream
all that had happened while that reason was in
defect. The last phenomena I have to record
were bodily; one was noted by Mr. Georgie
White in these terms : " Billy's eyes used to be
like a seal's : but now he is a great gentleman
they are like yours and mine." The other was
more singular : with his recovered reason came
his first gray hair, and in one fortnight it was
all as white as snow."
He remained a fortnight on board the Vukurey
beloved by high and low. He walked the quar-
ter-deck in the dress of a private gentleman, but
looking like an admiral. The sailors touched
their hats to him with a strange mixture of
veneration and jocoseness. They called him
among themselves Commodore Billy. He was
supplied with funds by Reginald, and put on
board a merchant-ship bound for England. He
landed, and went straight to Barkington. There
he heard his family were in London. He came
back to London, and sought them ; a friend told
him of Green; he went to him, and of course
Green saw directly who he was. But able men
don't cut business short; he gravely accepted
David's commission to find him Mrs. Dodd.
Finding him so confident David asked him if
he thought he could find Richard Hardie, or his
clerk, Noah Skinner ; both of whom had levant-
ed from Barkington. Green, who was on a hot
scent as to Skinner, demurely accepted both
commissions, and appointed David to meet him
at a certain place at six.
He came; he found Green's man, who took
him up stairs, and there was that excited group
determining the ownership of the receipt.
Now to David that receipt was a thing of
yesterday. **It is mine," said he. They all
turned to look at this man, with sober, passion-
less voice, and hair of snow. A keen cry from
Julia's heart made every heart there quiver, and
in a moment she was clinging and sobbing on her
father's neck. Edward could only get his hand
and press and kiss it. Instinct told them Heaven
had given them their father back mind and all.
Ere the joy and the emotion had calmed them-
selves, Alfred Hardie stepped out and ran like a
deer to Pembroke Street.
Those who were so strangely reunited could
not part for a long time, even to go down the
stairs one by one.
David was the first to recover his composure :
indeed, great tranquillity of spirit had ever since
his cure been a remarkable characteristic of this
man's nature. His passing mania seemed to
have burnt out all his impetuosity, leaving him
singularly sober, calm, and self-governed.
Mr. Compton took the money and the wUl,
and promised the executrix Skmner shoald be
decently interred and all his debts paid out of
the estate. He would look in at 66 by-and-by.
And now a happy party wended their way to-
ward Pembroke Street.
But Alfred was beforehand with them: he
went boldlv up the stairs, and actually surprised
Mrs. Dodd and Sampson together.
At sight of him ;9he rose, made him a low
courtesy, and Jbeat a retreat. He whipped to the
door, and set his back against it. "No," said
he, saucily.
She drew back astonished, and the color
mounted in her pale face. "What, Sir, would
you detain me by force ?"
"And no mistake," said the audacious boy. .
" How else can I detain you ? when you hate me
so ?" She began to peep into his sparkling eyes
to see the reason of this strange conduct.
"C'way from the door, ye vagabin," said
Sampso]!.
VERY HABD CASH.
.^o, no, my friend," said Mrs. Dodd, trem-
;, and still peering into his sparkling eyes,
r. Alfred Hardie is a gentleman at all events :
^ould not take this liberty with me, unless
had some excase for it."
* You are wonderfully shrewd, mamma," said
.fired, admiringly. * * The excuse is I don't hate
u as you hate me ; and I am very happy."
"Why do you call me mamma to-day? Oh
iOCtor, he calls me mamma."
**Th* audacious vagabin."
"No, no, I can not think he would call me
that unless he had some good news for us both."
"What good news can he have, except that
his trial is going well, and you don't care for
that."
* * Oh, how can you say so ? I care for all that
concerns him : he would not come here to insult
my misery with his happiness. He is noble, he
is generoas, with all his faults. How dare you
call me mamma, Sir! Call it me again, my
dear child : because then I shall know you are
come to save my heart from breaking." And
with this, the truth must be told, the stately
Mrs. Dodd did fawn upon Alfred with palms
outstretched and piteous eyes, and all the cajol-
ing arts of her sex.
" Give me a kiss then, mamma," said the im-
pudent boy, " and I will tell you a little bit of
good news."
She paid the required tribute with servile hu-
mility and readiness.
" Well, then," said Alfred, and was just going
to tell her all, but caught sight of Sampson mak-
ing the most expressive pantomime to him to
be cautious. "Well," said he, "I have seen
a sailor."
"Ah!"
" And he is sure Mr. Dodd is alive.'*
Mrs. Dodd lifted her. hands to heaven, but
could not speak. "In fact," said Alfred, hesi-
tating (for he was a wretched hand at a fib),
" he saw him not a fortnight ago on board ship.
But that is not all, mamma, the sailor says he
has his reason."
Mrs. Dodd sank on her knees, and said no
word to man, but many to the Giver of all good.
When she arose she said to Alfred : "Bring this
sailor to me. I must speak with him directlv."
Alfred colored. " I don't know where to find
him just now."
"Oh, indeed," said Mrs. Dodd, quietly: and
this excited her suspicion: and from that mo-
ment the cunning creature lay in wait for Mas-
ter Alfred. She plied him with questions, and
he got more and more puzzled how to sustain
his story. At last, by way of bursting out of his
own net, he said, "But I am sorry to say his
hair has turned white. But perhaps you won't
mind that."
" An^he hadn*t a gray hair."
"It is not gray, like the doctor's; it b white
as the driven snow."
Mrs. Dodd sighed ; then suddenly turning on
Alfred, asked him, "Did the sailor tell you
that?"
He hesitated a moment and was lost
"You have seen him," she screamed : "he is
in London : he is in the house. I feel him near
:" and she went into something very like hys-
"^-^^ ^ag alarmed, and whispered the
* ^^'m off to meet them,
\
and recommended caution : her nerves were i
such a state a violent shock, even of hi^^inseM,
might kill her.
Thus warned, Julia came into the room alone,
and while Dr. Sampson was inculcating self*
restraint for her own sake, she listened with 8
superior smile, and took quite a different line.
" Mamma," said she, " he is in the town : bat 1
dare not bring him here till you are composed:
his reason is restored ; but his nerves are not so
strong as they were ; now, if yon agitate your-
self you will agitate him, and will do him a seii-
ous mischief."
This crafty speech produced an incredible ef-
fect on Mrs. Dodd. It calmed her directly: or
rather, her great love gave her strength to be
calm. "I will not be such a wretch," she Mid.
" See I am composed, quite composed. Bring
me my darling, and you shall see how good I
will be : there now, Julia, see how calm I am,
quite calm. What, have I borne so moch .
misery, with Heaven's help, and do you think I.
can not bear this great happiness, for mj dear*
darling's sake ?"
On this they proposed she should retire to 1
room, and they would go for David.
" Think over the meeting, dear, dear mam .mn-
ma," said Julia, " and then you will behave welCLXT^ill
for his sake, who was lost to us and is found.**
Husband and wife met alone in Mrs. Dodd''^ -1'^
room. No eye, even of the children, venturec^ -^sd
to witness a scene so strange, so sacred. We^ ^^^
may try and imagine that meeting ; but few oi^fc^ ^^^
us can conceive it by the light of our narrow ex :^s^^-
perience. Yet one or two there may be ; th^^ -^^
world is so wide, and the adventures and emo ^^^-
tions of our race so many. ,
One by one all were had up to that sacre ^^^ '\
room to talk to the happjr pair. They found^^!^
David seated calmly at his wife's feet, her sofl P^-^^ ^
hand laid on his white hair, lest he should leave^:^^^
her again : and they told him all the sorrow b v * " "
hind them ; and he, genial and kindly as nrrr ^
told them all the happiness before them. Be^^^
spoke like the master of the house, the father of
the family, the friend of them all.
But with all his goodness he was sternly re
solved to have his 14,000 out of Richard Bar-
die. He had an interview with Mr. Compton
that very night, and the lawyer wrote a letter to
Mr. Hardie, saying nothing* about the death of
Skinner, but saying that his client, Captain
Dodd, had recovered from Noah Skinner the re-
ceipt No. 17 for 14,010 \2s. 6d., and he was
instructed to sue for it unless repaid immediate-
ly. He added Captain Dodd was mercifully re-
stored, and remembered distinctly every particu-
lar of the transaction.
They all thought in their innocence that Har-
die r. Hardie was now at an end. Captain Dodd
could prove Alfred's soi-disant illusion to be the
simple truth. But Compton let them know that
this evidence had come too late. " What, may
we not get up and say here is papa, and it is aJ
true?" cried Julia, indignant.
"No, Miss Dodd, certainly not, our case
closed."
"But suppose I insist on doing it?"
"Then you will be put out of coart, IV
Dodd."
"Much I care, Mr. Compton."
VERY HARD CASH.
258
He smiled, bnt convinced them.
Well then they would all go as spectators, and
pray that jostice might prevail.
They did go : and all sat together to hear a
matter ptlzzled over, which had DaVid come one
day earlier he wonld have set at rest forever.
Dick Absolom was pntdn to prove that Alfred
had pat two sovereigns on the stumps for him to
bowl if he conld ; and after him the defendant,
Mr. Thomas Hardie, a mild, benevolent, weak
gentleman was put into the box, and swore the
loy's father had come to him with story after
story of the plaintiff's madness, and the trouble
it would get him into : and so he had done for
the best. His simplicity was manifest, and
Safiinders worked it ably. When Colt got hold
of him, and badgered him, he showed something
more than simplicity. He stuttered, he contra-
dicted himself, he perspired, he all bnt wept.
Colt ^Are you sure you had no spite against
him?
Deft. No.
Colt. You are not sure, eh ?
This candid interpretation of his words knock-
ed him stupid. He made no reply, but looked
utterly flabbergasted.
Colt. Did he not provoke you ? Did he not
call you an idiot ?
Deft. He might.
Colt (satirically). Of course he might
(Laughter). But did he?
Deft, (plucking up a little spirit). ^No. He
called me Soft Tommy.
This revelation, and the singular appropriate-
ness of the nickname, were so highly relished by
an intelligent audience, that it was a long time
before the trial could go on for roars. The
plaintiff's ringing laugh was heard among the
rest.
The cross-examination proceeded in this style
till the defendant began to drivel at the mouth a
little. At last, after a struggle, he said, with a
piteous whine, that he could not help it: he
hated signing his name ; some mischief always
came of it ; but this time he had no option.
"No option?" said Colt. "What do you
mean?"
And with one or two more turns of the screw,
out came this astounding revelation :
"Richard said if I didn't put Taff in one, he
would put me in one."
The Judge. In one what ?
Deft, (weeping bitterly). In one mad-house,
my lord.
In the peal that followed this announcement,
Colt sat down grinning. Saunders rose smiling.
"I am much obliged to the learned counsel for
making ray case," said he : "I need not prolong
the sufferings of the innocent. You can go down,
Mr. Hardie."
The Judge. ^Have you any defense to this
action ?
" Certainly, my lord.'*
"Do you call Richard Hardie?"
"No, my lord."
"Then you had better confine yourself to the
question of damages."
The sturdy Saunders would not take the hint :
he replied upon the whole case, and fought hard
for a verdict. The line he took was bold ; he
described Richard Hardie as a man who had
acquired a complete power over his weaker
brother: and had not only persuaded him by
statements, but even compelled him by threats,
to do what he believed would be the salvation
of his nephew. Will you imitate the learned
counsel's cruelty ? Will you strike a child ? In
short, he made a powerful appeal to their pity,
while pretending to address their judgments.
Then Colt rose like a tower, and assuming the
verdict as certain, asked the jury for heavy dam-
ages. He contrasted powerfully the defendant's
paltry claim to pity with the anguish the plaint-
iff had undergone. He drew the wedding party,
the insult to the bride, the despair of the kid-
napped bridegroom ; he lashed the whole gang
of conspirators concerned in the crime, regret-
ted that they could only make one of all these
villains smart, but hinted that Richard and
Thomas Hardie were in one boat, and that
heavy damages inflicted on Thomas would find-
the darker culprit out. He rapped out Mr. Cow-
per's lines on liberty, and they were new to the
jury, though to nobody else: he warned them
that all our liberties depended on thetn. "In
vain," said he, " have we beheaded one tyrant,
and banished another, to secure those liberties, if
men are to be allowed to send away .their own
flesh and blood into the worst of all prisons for
life and not smart for it, in those lamentably few
cases in which the law finds them out and lays
^"IJ of them." But it would task my abilities to
the utmost, and occupy more time than is left
me, to do any thing like justice to the fluent fiery
eloquence of Colt, Q.C., when he got a great
chance like this. Tonat, fulgurat, et rapidis
eloquentias fluctibus cuncta proruit et proturbat.
Bursts of applause, that neither crier nor judge
could suppress, bore witness. to the deep indig-
nation Britons feel when their hard-earned lib-
erties are tampered with by power or fraud, in
defiance of law ; and when he sat down, the jury
were ready to fly out at him with ^5000 in hand.
Then rose the passionless voice of "justice ac-
cording to law." I wish I could give the very
words. The following is the effect as / under-
stood it. Lawyers forgive deficiencies !
" This is an. important, but not a difficult case.
The plaintiff sues the defendant under the law of
England for falsely imprisoning him in a mad-
house. The imprisonment is admitted, and the
sufferings of the plaintiff not disputed. The ques-
tion is, whether he was insane at the time of the
act? Now, I must tell you, that in a case of
this kind, it lies upon the defendant to prove the
plaintiff's insanity, rather than on the plaintiff to
prove his own sanity. Has the defendant over-
come this the difficulty? We have had from
him hearsay and conjectures of respectable per-
sons, but very little evidence. Illusion is the
best proof of insanity : and a serious endeavor
was certainly made to fasten an illusion on the
plaintiff about a sum of 1 4, 000. B ut the proof
was very weak, and went partly on an assump-
tion that all error is hallucination : this is illu-
sory, and would, if acted on, set one half the
kingdom imprisoning the other half; and, after
all, they did not quite prove that the plaintiff
was in error. They advanced no undeniable
proof that Mr. Richard Hkrdie has not embezzled
this 14,000. I don't say it was proved on the
other hand that he did embezzle that sum.
Richard Hardie suing Alfred Hardie for libel
on this evidence might possibly obtain a verdict:
254
VERY HARD CASH.
for then the harden of proof would lie on Alfred '
Hardie : but here it lies on those who say he is
insane. The fact appears to be that the plaintiff
imbibed a reasonable suspicion of his own fa-
ther's integrity ; it was a suspicion founded on
evidence ; imperfect, indeed, but of a high char-
acter as far as it went. There was a letter from
Captain Bodd to his family, announcing his re-
turn with 14,000 upon him, and, while as yet
unaware of this letter, the plaintiff heard David
Dodd accuse Richard Hardie of possessing im-
properly 14,000, the identical sum. At least,
he swears to this, and as Richard Hardie was
not called to contradict him, you are at liberty
to suppose that Richard Hardie could not con-
tradict him on oath. Here, then, true or false,
was a rational suspicion ; and every man has a
right to a rational suspicion of his neighbor, and
even to utter it within due limits: and, if he
overstep those, the party slandered has his legal
remedy ; and, if he omits his legal remedy, and
makes an attempt of doubtful legality not to
confute but to stifle the voice of reasonable sus-
picion, shrewd men will suspect all the more.
But then comes a distinct and respectable kind
of evidence for the defendant ; he urges that the
plaintiff was going to sign away his property to
his wife's relations. Now, this was proved, and
a draft of the deed put in and sworn to. This
taken singly, has a very extraordinary look;
still you must consider the plaintilTs reasonable
suspicion that money belonging to the Dodds
had passed irregularly to the Hardies, and then
the wonder is much diminished. Toung and
noble minds have in every age done these gen-
erous, self-denjdng, and delicate acts. The old-
er we get, the less likely we are to be incarcer-
ated for a crime of this character. But we are
not to imprison youth and chivalry because we
have outgrown them. To go from particulars
to generals, the defendant on whom the proof
lies, has advanced hearsay and conjecture, and
not put their originators into the box. And the
plaintiff, on whom the proof does not lie, has ad-
vanced an overpowering amount of evidence that
he was sane at the time of his incarceration : this
was proved to demonstration by friends, stran-
gers, and by himself." Here the judge ana-
lyzed the testimony of several of the plaintiff's
''As to the parties themselves, it is curious
how they impersonated, so to speak, their re-
spective lines of argument.. The representative
of evidence and sound reasoning, though accused
of insanity, was clear, precise, frank, rational,
and dignified in the witness-box. The party
who relied on hearsay and conjecture, was as
feeble as they are; he was almost imbecile, as
yoj^ observed; and looking at both parties, it
seems monstrous that the plaintiff should be the
one confTned as a lunatic, and the defendant
allowed to run wild and lock up his intellectual
superiors. If he means to lock them all up,
who is safe? (Laughter.) The only serious
question, I apprehend, is on what basis the dam-
ages ought to be assessed. The plaintiff's coun-
sel has made a powerful appeal to your passions,
and calls for vengeancQ. Now, I must tell you
you have no right to make yourselves ministers
of vengeance, nor even to punish the defendant
in a suit of the kind: still less ought you to
strike the defendant harder than you otherwise
would, in the vague hope of hitting indirectly
the true mover of the defendant and the other
puppets. Let me solemnly warn you against
that unfortunate suggestion of the learned cono-
sel's. If thQ plaintiff wants vengeance, the crim-
inal law offers it. After benefiting by your ver-
dict, he can still indict the guilty party or parties.
Meanwhile he comes here, not for vengeance,
but for compensation, and restoration to that
society which he is every way fitted to adorn.
More than this and all our sympathies ^it is
not for us to give him. But then the defend-
ant's cause went too far the other way. His
client, he says, is next door to an idiot, and so
forsooth, his purse must be spared entirely. This
is all very well if it could be done without igi^or-
ing the plaintiff and his just claim to compensa-
tion. If the defendant instead of being weak-
minded were an idiot, or a lunatic, it would
protect him from punishment as a felon, but not
for damages in a suit. A sane man is not to
be falsely imprisoned by a lunatic without foil
compensation from the lunatic or his estate; k-
fortiori, he is not to be so imprisoned by a mere
fool without just compensation. Supposing your
verdict then to be for the plaintiff, I think vin-
dictive damages would be unfair on this feeble
defendant, who has acted recklessly, but under
an error, and without malice or bad faith. On
the other hand, nominal or even unsubstantial
damages would be unjust to the plaintiff, and
perhaps leave in some minds a doubt, I am sare
you do not entertain, as to the plaintiff^s perfect
sanity during the whole period of his life."
As soon as his lordship had ended, the fore-
man of the jury said their minds were quite made
up long ago.
Si lence in the court.
We find for the plaintiff, with damages three
thousand five hundred pounds.
The verdict was received with some surprise
by the judge, and all the lawyers, except Mr.
Colt, and by the people with acclamation; in
the midst of which Mr. Colt announced that the
plaintiff had just gained his first class at Oxford.
*' I wish him joy," said the judge.
CHAPTER LVm.
The verdict was a thunder-clap to Richard
Hardie ; he had promised Thomas to bear him
blameless. The Old Turks, into which he had
bought at 72, were down to 71, and that implied
a loss of five thousand pounds. On the top of
all this came Mr. Compton's letter, neatly copied
by Colls : Richard Hardie was doubly and trebly
ruined.
Then in his despair and hate he determined
to baffle them all, ay, and sting the hearts of
some of them once more.
He would give Peggy his last shilling; write
a line to Alfred, another to Julia, assuring them
he had no money, and they had killed him. Ajid
with that leave them both the solemn curse of a
dying father, and then kill himself.
Not to be interrupted in his plan, he tempo-
rized with Mr. Compton ; wrote that, if the Re-
ceipt was really signed by his agent, of course
the loss must fall on him ; it was a large sum,
but he would sell out and do his best, in ten dajrt
VERY HARD CASH.
255
from date. With this he went and bonght a pis-
tol, and at several chemists' shops a littiie essen-
tial oil of almonds: his plan was to take the
poison, and if it killed withoat pain well and
good; bat if it tortured him, then he would
blow his brains out at once.
He soon arranged his worldly affairs, and next
daj gave Peggy his 500, and told her she had
better keep it for fear he should be arrested. He
sent her on an errand to the other part of the
town : then with his poison and the pistol before
him on the table, wrote a brief but emphatic
curse for his son, and Julia ; and a line to Peggy
to thank her for her fidelity to one so much old-
er than herself, and to advise her to take a to^
bacconist's shop with his money : when he had
done all this, he poured out the fragrant poison
and tasted it.
Ere he could drink it, one of those quidnuncs,
who are always interrupting a gentleman when
he has important business on hand, came run-
ning in with all manner of small intelligence.
Mr. Hardie put down the glass, and gave him
short, sullen answers, in hopes he would then
go away and let him proceed to business. And
at last his visitor did rise and go. Mr. Hardie
sat down with a sigh of relief to his fragrant bev-
erage.
Doesn't the door open, and this bore poke in
his head? "Oh, I forgot to tell you: the Old
Turks are going up to-day like a shot." And
with this he slammed the door again, and was off.
At this the cup began to tremble in the reso-
lute wretch's hand. The Old Turks going up !
He poured the poison back into the vial, and
put it and the pistol, and all the letters, careful-
ly into his pocket, and took a cab to the City.
The report was true ; there was an extraor-
dinary movement in the Old Turks. The sul-
tan was about to pay a portion of this loan, be-
ing at six per cent. ; this had transpired,tend at
four o'clock the Turks were quoted at 73. Mr.
Hardie returned a gainer of 5000 instead of a
loser. And he locked up the means of death for
the present.
And now an ordinary man would have sold
out, and got clear of the fatal trap : but this was
not an ordinary man : he would not sell a share
that day. In the afternoon they rose to 74. He
came home, unloaded his pistol, and made him-
self some brandy-and-water, and with a grim
smile, flavored it with a few drops of the poison
that was a delicious tumbler. The Turks went
up, up, up, to 82. Then he sold out, and cleared
49,000, and all in about ten days.
With this revived the habits of his youth ; no
more cheating: nothing could excuse that but
the dread of poverty. He went to his appoint-
ment with Mr. Compton ; asked to see the Re-
ceipt; said "Yes; that was his form, and Skin-
ner's handwriting ; he had never personally re-
ceived one farthing of the money ; Skinner had
clearly embezzled it; but that did not mat-
ter ; of course. Captain Dodd must not lose his
money. Send your bill of costs in Hardie vs.
Hardie to me, Mr. Compton," said he, "they
shall not be taxed : you have lost enough by me
already."
There was an air of dignity and good faith
about the man that imposed even on Compton.
And when Mr. Hardie drew out the notes and
said, " I should be grateful if you would forgive
me the interest ; but for a great piece of good
fortune on the Stock Exchange, I could never
have paid the whole principal, "he said, warmly.
"The interest should never be demanded
through him."
He called in Colls, delivered up the Receipt,
and received the 14,010, 12s. 6c?. from Mr. Har-
die.
O Immortal Cash I You, like your great in-
ventor, have a kind of spirit as well as a body ;
and on this, not on your grosser part, depends
your personal identity. So long as that sur-
vives, your body may be recalled to its lawful
owner from Heaven knows where.
Mr. Compton rushed to Pembroke Street and
put this hard, hard Cash in David Dodd's hands
once more.
Love and Constancy had triumphed : and Ju-
lia and Alfred were to be married and go down
to Albion Villa to prepare it for the whole par-
ty : tenants no more : Alfred had bought it.
The Commissioners of Lunacy had protected his
20,000 zealously from the first: and his trus-
tees had now paid the money over.
Alfred, consulted by Mrs. Dodd, whose pet of
pets he now was, as to the guests to be asked to
the wedding-breakfast, suggested * none but the
tried friends of our adversity."
"What an excellent ideal" said Mrs. Dodd,
naively.
Dr. Sampson being duly invited asked if he
should bring his Emulsion.
This proposal puzzled all but Mrs. Dodd. She
was found laughing heartily in a comer with-
out any sound of laughter. Being detected and
pointed out by Julia, she said, with a little crow,
" He means his wife I Yes, certainly, bring your
Emulcent" pretending he had used that more
elegant word "and then they will all see how
well you can behave."
Accordingly he brought a lady, who was ab-
surdly pretty to be the mother of several grown
young ladies and gentlemen, and two shades
more quiet and placid than Mrs. Dodd. She
quietly had her chair placed by Dr. Sampson's,
and, whenever he got racy, she put a hand gently
on his shoulder, and by some mesmeric effect it
moderated him as Neptune did the waves in the
^neid. She was such a mistress of this mes-
meric art that she carried on a perfect conversa-
tion with her other neighbor, yet modulated her
lion lord with a touch of that composing hand,
in a parenthetical manner, and while looking
another way.
This hand, soft as down, yet to all appear-
ance irresistible, suppressed the great art of heal-
ing, vital chronometry, the wrongs of inventors,
the collusions of medicine, the Mad Ox, and all
but drawing-room topics, at the very ffrst symp-
tom, and only just allowed the doctor to be the
life and soul of the party.
Julia and Mrs. Dodd had a good cry at part-
ing. Of course Alfred consoled them ; remind-
ed them it was only for a week, and carried off
his lovely prize, who in the carriage soon dried
her eyes upon his shoulder.
Then she applied to her new lord and master
for information. " They say that you and me
are one, now," said she.
He told her triumphantly it was so.
VERY HAKD CASH.
*' Then from this moment yon are Jolios and
I am Elfrida," said she.
/* That is a bargain," said he, and sealed it on
the sweet lips that were mnrmnring Heaven so
near him.
In this sore-tried and now happy pair the ar-
dor of possession lasted long, and was succeeded
by the sober but full felicity of conjugal love and
high esteem combined. They were so young
and elastic that past sorrows seemed but to give
one zest more to the great draught of happiness
thev now drank day by day. They all lived to-
gether at Albion Villa, thanks to Alfred. He
was by nature combative, and his warlike soul
was roused at the current theory, that you can
not be hap)y under the same roof with your
wife's mother. "That is cant," said he to Mrs.
Dodd ; ** let us you and I trample on it hand in
hand."
**My child," said poor Mrs. Dodd, sorrow-
fully, " every body says a mother-in-law in the
house bores a young gentleman sadly."
** If a young gentleman can't live happy with
you, mamma," said he, kissing her, '* he is a lit-
tle snob, that is all, and not fit to live at all. De-
lenda est Cantilena! That means down with
Cant I" They did live together: and behold
eleven French plays, with their thirty-three En-
glish adaptations, confuted to the end of time.
Creatures so high-bred as Mrc. Dodd never
fidget one. There is a repose about them ; they
are balm to all those they love, and blister to
none. Item, no stranger could tell by Mrs.
Dodd's manner whether Edward or Alfred was
her own son.
Oh, you happy little villa ! you were as like
Paradise as any mortal dwelling can be. A
day came, however, when your walls could no
longer hold all the happy inmates. Julia pre-
sented Alfred with a lovely boy : enter nui*ses,
and the villa showed symptoms of bursting.
Two months more, and Alfred and his wife and
boy overflowed into the next villa. It was but
twenty yards off; and there was a double rea^
son for the migration. As often happens after
a long separation, Heaven bestowed on Captain
and Mra. Dodd another infant to play about
their knees at present, and help ^em grow
younger instead of older : for tender parents be-
gin life again with their children.
The boys were nearly of a size, though the
nephew was a month or two older than his un-
cle, a relationship that was early impressed on
their young minds, and caused those who heard
their prattle many a hearty laugh.
"Mrs. Dodd," said a lady, "I couldn't tell
by your manner which is yours and which is
your daughter's."
"Why they are both mine," said Mrs. Dodd,
piteously.
As years rolled on Dr. Sampson made many
converts at home and abroad. The foreign ones
acknowledged their obligations. The leading
London physicians managed more skillfully;
they came into his ideas, and bit by bit reversed
their whole practice, and, twenty years after
Sampson, began to strengthen the invalid at
once, instead of first prostrating him, and so
causing either long sickness or sudden death.
But, with all this, they disowned their forerun-
ner, and still called him a quack while adopt-
ion his quackery. This dishonesty led them
into difficulties. To hide that their whole prac-
tice in medicine was reversed on better informa-
tion, they went from shuffle to shuffle, till at
last they reached this climax of fatuity and ^-
otism The ttpb of disease is charged.
Kfttium motatnr, nam noa maUmar.
O, mutable Nature and immutable doctors !
O, unstable Omniscience, and infallible Nes-
cience!
The former may err ; the latter never in its
own opinion.
At this rate, draining the weak of their life-
blood was the right thing in Cervantes*s day:
and when he observed that it killed men like
sheep, and said so, sub tit Sangrado, he was con-
founding his own age with an age to come three
hundred years later, in which coining age de-
pletion was going to be wrong.
Moli^re in lashing the whole scholastic sys-
tem of lancet, purge, and blister as one of slaugh-
ter committed the same error : mistook his cen-
tury for one to come.
And Sampson, thirty years ago, sang the same
tune, and mistook his infiammatory generation
for the cool generation unborn. In short, it is
the characteristic of a certain blunder called gen-
ius to see things too far in advance. The surest
way to avoid this is not to see them at all ; but
go blindly by the cant of the hour. Bace mou-
tonniere, va!
Salhpson was indignant at finding these gen-
try, after denouncing him for years as a quack,
were pilfering his system, yet still reviling him.
He went in a towering passion, and lashed them
by tongue and pen : told them they were his sub-
tractors now as well as detractors, asked them
how it happened that in countries where there
is no Sampson the type of disease remains un-
changed, depletion is the practice, and death the
result, ^as it was in every age ?
No man, however stout, can help being deep-
ly wounded when he sees his ideas stolen, yet
their author and publisher disowned. Many
men's hearts have been broken by this : but I
doubt whether they were really great men.
Don't tell me Liliput ever really kills Brob-
dignab. Except of course when Brobdignab
takes medical advice of Liliput.
Dr. Sampson had three shields against sub-
traction, detraction, and all the wrongs invent-
ors endure ; to wit, a choleric temper, a keen
sense of humor, and a good wife. He storms
and rages at his detracting pupils ; but ends with
roars of laughter at their impudence. I am told
he still hopes to meet with justice some day, and
to give justice a chance, he goes to bed at ten,
for, says he,
Jinny ns, jinny us,
Take care of your carcass,
and explains that no genius ever lived to ninety
without being appreciated.
"If Chatterton and Keats had attended to
this, they would have been all right. If James
Watt had died at fifty he would have been all
wrong ; for at fifty he was a failure : so was the
painter Etty, th' English Tishin." And then he
accumulates examples.
His last distich bearing on Hard Cash is worth
recording. * * Miss Julee, " said he, " y' are goen
to maerry int' a strange family
Where th* ijjit puts the jinny us
In-^til a mad-hus,"
VERY HARD CASH.
267
which, like most of the droll things this man
said, was tme : for Soft Tommy and Alfred were
the two intellectual extremes of the whole tribe
of Hardies.
Mrs. Archbold, disappointed both in love and
levenge, reposed her understanding and soothed
her mind with Frank Beverley and opium. This
soon made the former deep in love with her, and
his intellect grew by contact with hers. But one
day news came from Australia that her husband
was dead. Now, perhaps I shall surprise the
reader if I tell him that this Edith Archbold
began her wedded life a good, confiding, loving
faithful woman. Tet so it was : .the unutterable
blackguard she had married, he it was who la-
bored to spoil her character, and succeeded at
last, and drove her, unwilling at first, to other
men. The news of his death was like a shower-
bath ; it roused her. She took counsel with her-
self, and hope revived in her strong head and
miserable heart. She told Frank, and watched
him like a hawk. He instantly fell on his knees,
and implored her to marry him directly. She
gave him her hand and turned away, and shed
the most womanly tear that had blessed her for
years. **I am not mad, you know," said poor
Frank ; " I am only a bit of a muff." To make
a long story short, she exerted all her intelli-
gence, and with her help Fraiik took measures
toward superseding his Commission of Lunacy.
Now, in such a case, the Lord Chancellor ^ways
examines the patient in person. What was the
consequence ? Instead of the vicarious old Wolf,
who had been devouring him at third and fourth
hand, Frank had two interviews with the chan-
cellor himself: a learned, grave, upright gentle-
man, who questioned him kindly and shrewdly ;
and finding him to be a young man of small in-
tellectual grasp, but not the least idiotic or mad,
superseded his commission in defiance of his
greedy kinsfolk, and handed him his property.
He married Edith Archbold, and she made him
as happy as the day was long. For the first
year or two she treated his adoration with good-
natured contempt ; biit, as years rolled on, she
became more lovingi and he more knowing.
They are now a happy pair, and all between her
first honest love and this her last, seems to her a
dream.
So you see a female rake can be ameliorated
by a loving husband, as well as a male rake by a
loving wife.
It sounds absurd, but that black-browed jade
is like to be one of the best wives and mothers
in England. But then, mind you, she had al-
ways Brains.
I don't exactly know why Horace puts togeth-
er those two epithets, "just" and *' tenacious of
purpose.'* Perhaps he had observed they go to-
gether. To be honest, I am not clear whether
this is so on the grand scale. But certainly
these two features did meet remarkably in one
of my characters Alfred Hardie. The day the
bank broke he had said he would pay the cred-
. itors. He now set to work to do it by degrees.
He got the names and addresses, lived on half
his income, and paid half away to those credit-
ors ; he even asked Julia to try and find Maxley
out, and do something for him. "But don't let
me see him," said he, trembling, "for I could
not answer for myself.'* Maxley was known to
be cranky but harmless, and wandering about
the country. Julia wrote to Mr. Green.
Alfred's* was an up-hill game; but fortune
favors the obstinate as well as the bold. One
day, about four years after his marriage with
Julia, being in London, he found a stately figure
at the corner of a street, holding out his hand
for alms, too dignified to ask it except by that
mute and touching gesture.
It was his father.
Then, as truly noble natures must forgive the
fallen, Alfred was touched to the heart, and
thoaght of the days of his childhood before
temptation came. "Father," said he, "have
you come to this ?"
" Yes, Alfred," said Richard, composedly : " I
undertook too many speculations, especially in
lands and houses ; they seemed profitable at first
too; but now I am entirely (pampered: if you
would but relieve me of them, and give me a
guinea a week to live on, I would forgive all
your disobedient conduct."
"Come home with me, Sir," said the young
man.
He took him to Barkington, bag and baggage :
and his good Christian wife received the old man
with delight ; she had prayed day and nigl^t for
this reconciliation. Finding his son so warm,
and being himself as cool, Richard Hardie en-
trapped Alfred into an agreement, to board and
lodge him, and pay him.a guinea every Saturday
at noon ; in return for this Alfred was to man-
age Richard's property, and pocket the profits, if
any. Alfred assented : the old man chuckled at
his son's simplicity, and made him sign a formal
agreement to that effect.
This done he used to sit brooding and misera-
ble nearly all the week till guinea time came ;
and then brightened up a bit. One day Alfred
sent for an accountant to look after his father's
papers, and see if matters were really despe-
rate.
The accountant was not long at work, and told
Alfred the accounts were perfectly clear, and
kept in the most admirable order. '^ The cash
balance is 60,000," said he : " and many of the
rents are due. It is an agent you want, not an
accountant."
"What are you talking about? a balance of
60,000 ?" Alfred was stupefied.
The accountant, however, soon convinced him
by the figures it was so.
Alfred went with the good news to his father.
His father went into a passion. "That is one
side of the. account, ye fool," said he, "think
of the rates, the taxes, the outgoings. You
want to go from your bargain, and turn me on
the world; but I have got you in black and
white, tight, tight."
Then Alfred saw the truth, and wondered at
his past ob^useness.
His father was a monomaniac.
He consulted Sampson, and Sampson told him
to increase the old man's comforts on the sly,
and pay him his guinea a week. "It's all you
can do for him."
Then Alfred employed an agent, and received
a large income from his father's land and houses,
and another from his consols. The old gentle-
man had purchased westward of Hyde Park
Square, and had bought with excellent judgment
till his mind gave way. But Alfred never spent
258
VERY HARD CASH.
)
a farthing of it on himself: all he took was for
his father's creditors. **A11 justice is good,"
said he, "even wild justice." Some of these un-
fortunate creditors he found in the work-house ;
the Misses Lunley that survived, were there alas !
He paid them their four thousand pounds, and
restored them to sod^ty. The name of Hardie
began to rise again from the dust.
Now, while Richard Hardie sat brooding and
miserable, expecting utter ruin, and only bright-
ening up on guinea day, Julia had a prot^gd with
equally false views, but more cheerful ones. It
was an old man with a silver beard, and a
machine with which he stamped leather into
round pieces of silver, in his opinion. Nothing
could have shaken that notion out of his mind.
Julia confirmed it. She let it be known that she
would always cash five pieces of round leather
from Mr. Matthew's mint per day, and ten on
Friday, when working men are poorest.
She contrived this with diabolical, no, angelic-
al cunning, to save the old man from ridicule,
and to do his soul much good. All souls were
dear to her. What was the consequence ? He
went about with his mint, and, relieved poor peo-
ple, and gratified his mania at the same time.
His face began to beam with benevolence, and
innocent self-satisfaction. On Richard Hardie's
all was cordage : and deep gloom Bat on his ever-
knitted brow.
Of these two men which was the rich man ;
he who had nothing, yet thought he possessed
enough for himself and his neighbors: or he
who rolled in wealth, and writhed under imagin-
ary poverty ?
One reflection more. Do not look to see Prov-
idence dash the cup of prosperity from every dis-
honest hand ; or you will often be disappointed :
yet this, if you look closer, you shall often see :
such a man holds the glittering cup tight, and
nectar to the brim ; but into that cup a shad-
owy hand squeezes some subtle ingredient, which
turns that nectar to wormwood. /
Richard Hardie died, his end being hastened
by fear of poverty coming, like an armed man,
and his guinea a week going. Matthews met
with an accident, and being impervious to pain,
but subject to death, was laid beside his poor
nvistress in St. Anne's church-yard. Julia bur-
ied him, and had a head -stone put to his
grave ; and, when this was done, she took her
husband to see it. On that stone was fresh
carved the true name of the deceased, James
Maxley.
**I have done what you told me," said Julia,
solemnly. ^
* * I know it," said Alfred, softly. " I saw who
your Matthews was ; but I could not speak of
him, even to you. You have done right my good
Christian wife. I wish I was like you. My
poor little Jenny !" *
Richard Hardie*s papers were all in order;
and among them an old will leaving 14,000 to
Edward Dodd.
On this being announced to Edward, he re-
marked that it was a fraud, Alfred had been
at him for a long time with ofiers of money, and
failing these had lost his temper and forged a
will, in his, Edward's, favor.
This scandalous defense broke down. The
document was indisputable, and the magic sum
was forced dowp Master Edward's throat, nilly
willy. Thus rose the Hard Cash once more from
the grave.
All this enabled the tenacious Alfred to carry
out a deeply-cherished design. Hardie's l^te
bank had been made into a shop ; but it belong-
ed to Mrs. Dodd"; he bought it of her, and set
up the bank again, with Edward as managing
partner. This just suited Edward, who sadly
wanted employment. Hardie and Co. rose again,
and soon wiped out the late disgraceful episode,
and hooked on to the past centuries of honor and
good credit. No creditor of Richard Hardie
was left unpaid. Alfred went in for politics;
stood for Barkington, was defeated by seventeen :
took it as a matter of course ; told his friends he
had never succeeded in any thing at first; nor-
been beaten in the end ; stood again, and became
M.P. for Barkington, whence to dislodge him I
pity any one who tries.
For a long time Mrs. Dodd was nervous, and
used to wake with a start at night, and put out
her hand to make sure David was not lost again :
but this wore off^.
For years the anniversary of that fatal day,
when he was brought home on a stretcher, came
back? to them all as a day of gloom : but that
wore oflf.
Sometimes the happiness of her family seemed
incredible to her, remembering what they had
all gone through. At first, their troubles were
too terrible and recent to be discussed. But
even that wore off, and they could talk of it all ;
and things bitter at the time became pleasant to
remember.
One mid-summer day they had all dined to-
gether rather early, at Albion Villa, and sat on
the lawn with Mrs. Dodd's boy and Julia's boy
and girl playing about these ladies' knees. Now
after a little silence, Mrs. Dodd, who had been
thinking quietly of many things, spoke to them
all, and said: ''If my children and I had not
been bosom friends, we never should have sur-
vived that terrible time we have passed through,
my dears. Make friends of your children, my
child."
** Ah, that I will I" said Julia ; and caught up
the nearest brat, and kissed it.
''It wasn't only being friends, mamma," said
Edward ; " it was our sticking together so."
In looking back on the story now ended, I in-
cline to the same conclusion. Almost my first
word was that Mrs. Dodd and her children were
bosom-friends ; and my last is to congratulate
them that it was so. Think of their various
trials and temptations, apd imagine what would
have become of them if family love and unity
had not abounded. Their little house was built
on the sure foundatioil. of true family affection :
and so the winds of adversity descended, and
the floods came, and burst upon that house, but f
could not prevail against* it ; it was founded on
a rock.
THE"E2SD.
VERY HARD CASH.
249
and a candle quite burned down : the grease had
mn into a circle.
And as was that grease to the expired light,
so was the thing that sat there in human form
to the Noah Skinner they had come to seek.
Dead this many a day of charcoal fumes, but
preserved from decomposition by those very
fames, sat Noah Skinner, dried into bones and
leather, waiting for them with his own Hard
Cash, and with theirs : for, creeping awe-struck
round that mummified figure seated dead on his
pool of sovereigns, they soon 'noticed in his left
hand a paper : it ^^ discolored by the vapor,
and part hid by th^ dead thumb ; but thus much
8hone out clear and amazing, that it was a bank-
er's receipt to David Dodd, Esq., for 14,000,
^rawn at Barkington, and signed for Richard
Bardie by Noah Skinner. Julia had drawn
back, and was hiding her face ; but soon curi-
osity struggled with awe in the others: they
peeped at the Receipt ; they touched the weird
figure. Its yellow skin sounded like a drum,
and its joints creaked like a puppet's. At last
Compton suggested that Edward Dpdd ought to
secure that valuable document.
"No, no," said Edward ; " it is too like rob-
bing the dead."
"Then I will," said Compton.
But he found the dead thumb and finger would
not part with the receipt ; then, as a trifle turns
the scale, he hesitated in turn : and all but Julia
stood motionless, round the body that held the
Receipt, the soul of the lost Cash, and yet still,
as in life, seemed loth to part with it.
Then Eidlalove came beside the arm-chair,
and said, "I'm a man from foreign parts; I
have no interest here but justice : and justice
I'll dew." He took the dead arm, and the joint
creaked : be applied the same lever to the bone
and parchment hand he had to the door: it
creaked too, but more faintly, and opened and
let out this :
^ m^acru^n^^'^ i?rL]6tm^i a nri
J
A stately foot came up the stair, but no one
heard it. All were absorbed in the strange weird
sight this great stroke of fate, or of Providence.
" This is yours, I reckon," said Fullalove, and
handed it to Edward.
"No, no !" said Compton. "See: IVe just
found a will, bequeathing all he has in the world
with his blessing, to Miss Julia Dodd. These
sovereigns are yours, then. But above all, the
paper: as your legal adviser, I insist on your
taking it inmiediately . Possession is nine points.
However, it is actually yours, in virtue of this be-
quest."
A solemn, passionless voice seemed to fall on
them from the clouds,
"No; iTwMiNB."
CHAPTER LVn.
Just before noon next day, on board the Vvl-
ture, the bell on which the half hours are struck
was tolled slowly to collect the ship's company ;
and soon the gaiijsways and booms were crowd-
ed, and even the yards were manned with sail-
Q
ors, collected to see their shipmate committed to
the deep. Next came the lieutenants and mid-
shipmen and stood reverently on the deck : the
body was brought and placed on a grating.
Then, all heads being uncovered below and aloft,
the chaplain read the solemn service of the dead.
Many tears were shed by the rough sailors,
the more so that to most of them, though not to
the officers, it was now known that poor Billy
had not always been before the mast, but had
seen better days, and commanded vessels, and
saved lives ; and now he had lost his own.
The service is the same as ashore, with this
exception : that the words " We commit his body
to the ground, ashes to ashes, dust to dust,'* etc.,
are altered at sea, thus: "We commit his body
to the deep, to be turned into corruption, look-
ing for the resurrection of the body, when the
sea shall give up her dead, and the life of the
world to come." At these words the body is al-
lowed to glide off the grating into the sea. The
chaplain's solemn voice drew near those very
words, and the tears of pity fell faster; and
Georgie White, an affectionate boy, sobbed vio-
lently, and shivered beforehand at the sullen
plunge that he knew would soon come, and then
350
VERY HABD CASH.
he shonld see no more poor BiHt who had giren
his life for his.
At this moment die ciqtain cune flying on
deck, and, jumping on to a gnn, cried sharplv,
'^ Arast ! Haul that hodr aboard.'
The sharp Toice of command cnt acrofls the
aolenm wonk and tones in the most startling
way. The chaplain closed his book with a look
of amazement and indignation : the sailors stared,
and for the first time did not obey an order. To
be sore it was one they had never heard before.
Then the captain got' angry, and repeated his
command loader; and the body was almost
jerked in board.
** Carry him to my eaJban ; and nncorer his
face."
By this time nothing could surprise Jackey
Tar. Four sailors executed the order promptly.
** Bosen, pipe to duty."
While the men were'di^sersing to their sever-
al stations, Captain Bazalgette apologized to the
chaplain, and explained to him and to the of-
ficers. But I give his explanation in my own
words. Finding the ship quiet, the purs^ went
to the captain down below, and asked him cool-
ly what entry he should make in the ship's books
about this William Thompson, who was no more
William Thompson than he was. ''What do
jon mean ?" said the captain. Then the purser
told him that Thompson's mess-mates, in pre-
paring him last night for interment, had found
a littk bag round Us neck, and inside it a med-
al of the Humane Society, and a slip of paper
written on in a lady's hand ; then they had sent
for him ; and he had seen at once that this was
a mysterious case : thb lady spoke of him as her
husband, and skipper of a merchant ressel.
*'What is that?" roared the captain, who
hitherto had listened with scarce half an ear.
" Skipper of a merchant vessel. Sir, as sure as
yon command her Majesty's frigate VtUtwrt : and
then we found his shirt marked with the same
name as the lady's."
"What was the lady's name ?'*
*^Lucy Dodd; and Darid Dodd is on the
shirt."
"Why didn't yon tell me this before?" cried
the captain.
"Didn't know it till last night."
'Why it is twelve o'clock. They are burying
"Yc8 Sir."
'^Liicy would never forgive me," cried the
captain. And to the purser's utter amazement
he clapped on his cocked hat, and flew out of
the cabin on the errand I have described.
He now descended to the cabin and kx^ed :
a glance was enough : there lay the kindly face
that had been his friend man and boy.
He hid his own with his hands, and moaned.
He cursed his own blindness and stupidity in
not recognizing that face among a thousand.
In this he was unjust to himself. David had
never looked ib'mM^till now.
He sent for the surgeon, and told him the
whole sad story: and asked him what could be
done. His poor cousin Lucy had more than
once expreased her horror of interment at sea.
" It is veiy hot," said he ; " but surely you must
know some way of keeping him till we land in
New Zealand : curse these flies ; how they bite !"
The surgeon's eyes sparkled; he happened
to be an enthusiast in the art of
'* Keep him to New Zealand ?" said ]
uously. "' I'll *in*lm him so thai
to England looking just as he does i
by, I never saw a drowned man keq
weU before ay, and two thoosanc
that, if you don't mind the expense
*' The expense ! I don't caie if
year's pay. I think of nodnng I
iny blunder as fiu- as I can."
The surgeon was delighted. Si
his subject, who lay on the captai
told that officer how he slu^ald p
have all the syringes," he said ; '* i
lection. I shall inject the reins w.
patience : then I shall remore the I
viscera, and provided Fm noC stint
and spices "
" Igive yon carte blandie on the p
your preparations and send for him
me how you do it ; but do it. I mi
tell poorLncy I have got him, and
him home to her dead."
The surgeon was gone about a f\
hour ; he then returned with two m
the body, and found the *^paiin sti
letter, viery sorrowful : but now an
ping his face or leg with a hearty
flies stung him.
The surgeon beckoned the men i
pointed to the body, for them to cai
Now, as he pointed, his eye foUo
ger. fell on something that 'struck
enced eye as incredibte : he uttered
tion of astonishment so lond that
looked up directly from his letter ; ;
standing with his finger pointing a
and his eyes staring astonishmei
now ?" said the captain, and roae fin
'Look: look: look:*
The captain came and looked, anc
nothing at alL
"The fly; the fly:" cried the sor
" Yes. I see one of them has been
for there's a little blood tricklincr.
low:" ^
" A dead man can't bleed from th
in his skin, " said the man of art. *
captain, he is alive, as sure as we
and Goid's above. That little insei
than us ; he b alive."
"Jackson, don't trifle with me,
you at the yanl-arm. God bless yo
Is it really possible ? Run some of
mirror; I have heard that is a test.
Mirror be hanged. Doctor Fl
All was now flutter and bustle :
attempts were made to resuscitate D
in vaiiL At last the surgeon had an j
man was never drowned at all," said
sure of it. This is cataleper. He
way for a week. But dead he is i
the douche.'' Darid was then b^
stripped, and carried to a place whei
turn a water-cock on him from a ]
the surgeon had soon the happiness
out to the captain a slight Uush on
in parts, caused by the falling water,
ceased with this: the only fear wn
should shake out the trembling lij
usage. They laid him on his stomach