A Romance of Toronto Part 21

"Yes, ma'am."

"Open the door for Silas Jones, bookseller, Bayswater." And so had he been answered in harsh, unfeeling tones, as almost broken-hearted he had wended his lonely way mechanically back to the little parlor.

It is well he has sold out his business to the young man Mary has married, for he cannot give his mind to anything other than the loss of the one woman, in his simple loyalty, he has ever loved, and of how again to find her.

"Silas," said his sister, "I just now asked Dr. MacNeil, as he came up the street, how poor Mr. Cole is, and he says he is in for a bad attack of that nasty rheumatic fever; just think, brother, of him only out of brain fever and into this; it's out and out too bad."

"Does he ask for Sarah, still?"

"Yes; doctor says it's most pitiful to hear him; and he (doctor) says, but it's 'cause he doesn't know the truth, that, of course, they are not to be blamed for the not bringing her, since she be so bad."

"Sister, I can't stand this suspense and trouble any longer; it's killing me. If it costs me every penny I have in the world, I _must_ find my Sarah. I shall go into the city to-morrow, and put the detectives to work."

At this juncture the shop door was hurriedly thrown open, when Sarah Kane, cold, pale, and trembling, followed by the driver of a hansom, came in quickly into their midst.

"Now, Missis, you'll be as good as your word, I 'ope, and gim me my fare."

But she is in the close embrace of Silas, while Mary pays, dismisses him, and locks the front door, her husband being in the great city.

"Silas, it's my belief you are demented; let our Sarah go. I want to hear where the old de'il took her to, and how she comes in like this, with no bonnet or shawl, and her hair blown about like that. There, that's more like it," she said, kissing Sarah, as Silas, not speaking a word, only keeping his gaze fixed on Sarah's face, leads her to a chair, when, dropping on his knees, says earnestly,

"Thank G.o.d; thank G.o.d."

Now seating himself beside her, and holding her hand in his, Sarah says, her lips quivering:

"Yes, G.o.d be thanked, I am at home, home! Oh dears, you will never know the sweetness of home as I do, after the awful life I have had since I last saw your dear faces; and only that I ran away, leastwise, bribed the boy with my watch and chain--"

"You did!" cried Mary, in astonishment.

"Freedom is sweeter than jewels, Mary dear; but I must begin at the beginning. Yes, Silas, the tea has warmed me; I must tell you all now.

You know how suspicious the people at Broadlawns are? Well, you can imagine the scene I went through when, running back from you that early morn, I found them waiting for me; they had got into my room with another key; they called me all the foul names in the spelling-books in England, I do believe. My heart, but it was fearful; and poor Mr. Cole calling me, and they not letting me near him; but I can't go on till I hear of him. How is he, and was it brain fever?"

"Yes, Sarah," said Mary, hurriedly, "and he could not bear Mrs. Cole near him; raving more even when out of his head, if she was in the room."

"Poor, poor young gentleman, and how is he now?"

"Well, he's just out, like, of brain fever, and into rheumatism."

"Dear, dear!" she said, in troubled tones; "Silas, I feel, dear, that I must endeavor to bring some speck of comfort into his life, for I blame myself now for not long ago going and talking it over with Dr. Annesley; will you come up to the city with me, to-morrow, and try to see him?"

"Anywhere, so I am with you; for I do believe, Sarah, I shall never be brave enough to lose sight Of your dear face again," he said, tenderly, still holding her hand.

"And, now, go on Sarah, and tell us where that old sneak thief took you to," said Mary, curiously.

"Yes, I must. Mr. Stone bid me only take my Gladstone bag, for he was not going to spoil the phaeton with my trunks. So, merely putting in a few necessary articles, thinking, as you remember, to be back in a day or two; well, we drove into town; but not in the direction, as I remembered, of Mrs. Mansfield's; we went a long, long way east; and when I wondered, he answered, shortly, that he had business that required immediate attention, first; well, on we drove into streets and localities unknown to me. At last, after a two hours' drive, we stopped at the end house in a terrace; it was a gloomy street, though some of the houses were well-looking enough. In one of the windows of the house at which we stopped, was a card, 'Lodgings for single gentlemen;' but that was a blind, Silas, to cover the real state of affairs."

On Mr. Stone knocking, a bolt and chain were drawn and unfastened, and a big, strong, coa.r.s.e-looking boy, large mouthed, and with cross eyes, opened the door.

"'Is your master in?' inquired Mr. Stone. 'Yes, sir.' 'Come in, Sarah Kane,' said the wicked master of Broadlawns. 'I have a good deal to say here, and you may as well come in doors, after your early morning walk'

(that was here, you know, Silas) 'and your visit to a gentleman's bedroom last night.' It might have been Mrs. Cole; he spoke in such cold, hard tones.

"We were shown into the front room first flat; the room with the notice in the window; it was extremely dirty and untidy; with a single bed in one corner; and what furniture there was looked like odds and ends picked up at sales; three chairs, one of brown leather, the others faded red and blue rep. On a table were pipes, tobacco, burnt matches, ale mugs, and cards, with copies of _Bell's Life_, in different stages of dirtiness; the room was littered with a man's clothing, and altogether unsavory. I was reluctant to enter, and stood on the door-mat.

"'Just go in ma'am; here's the master,' said the boy grinning.

"If the room was unsavory, the man was. Oh, Mary, if you saw him," she said, shudderingly; "he looked like a bully or prize fighter; a heavily-built man, short of stature, with bull-dog head and face; he wore no coat, and his shirt was unclean."

"Well, Lang, how are you getting along?"

"Do you mean as to funds, Mr. Stone; are you going to say the word, 'forego the back rents, take that lump sum for the house, and cry quits, that's the question?'" he said, with a wink. "Come in, Missis; I'm quite a dude, you see; but ladies don't mind that."

"I prefer to wait for Mr. Stone, out in the phaeton," I said, with latent disgust.

"Here they exchanged what I now know was a meaning glance, Mr. Stone saying, 'Sarah Kane is a most particular young woman, as you shall hear, Lang; come this way, Sarah.'

"I protested that I preferred waiting outside, to no purpose. 'This way, Sarah Kane,' 'Yes, this way, Missis,' they said, one going before and one behind me up a stairway, covered with a common carpet, but thickly padded; there were five doors opening into a square hall; all doors shut. Turning the handle of one, Mr. Stone said, smiling grimly, 'Another lodger.' 'Yes; he's out airing; you bet, they keep me busy,' he answered, with another of his odious winks, saying, 'Here, Missis, just step in 'ere while the Squire and me square accounts;' this time he winked at me; and I began to think it a mechanical way he had of winding up a remark."

"Nasty beast," said Mary.

"I was no sooner in, than the key was turned, and I knew myself a prisoner; I called, hammered on the door, did every conceivable thing to make a noise; finally I sat down on the one greasy chair of green rep, and cried as if my heart would break. I thought of you, Silas, and you too, Mary, of poor Mr. Cole; and hope vanished, knowing by whom I had been trapped. From time to time I could hear a murmur of voices; then Mr. Stone's unmusical laugh; and the unfastening and fastening of the door. Then I gave myself up to despair; I could make no sign to the outside busy London world, for my small room was only lit from the hall by a curious window, up near the ceiling. A single bed, wash-stand, and tiny looking gla.s.s, hanging to the wall, too small and cracked to be of any use; every article being stale and dirty. Mr. Lang brought me a cup of tea, and some bread and cheese, telling me to make myself at home; and 'that even though I was in a single gentleman's house, no matter,'

with another odious wink; 'that Mr. Stone had told him I would not be sorry there were no ladies,' etc.; but to make a long story short, Silas and Mary, the people at Broadlawns imprisoned me to get me out of the way, so I should not speak of this fraud of a marriage."

"That's it, my poor Sarah."

"Days pa.s.sed into weeks; and had it not been for my pocket Bible, the Pickwick papers, and a long strip of muslin embroidery and housewife I had put in my bag, I don't know what would have become of me; I tried to keep calm, if only to devise a scheme of escape. One day was much the same as another, Mr. Lang trying in many ways to get private information of Broadlawns, telling me, to raise my wrath, that Mr. Stone had told him I was demented, and nothing I said was reliable; but I could not trust such a man, so left him no wiser. Every day, for fifteen minutes, I was compelled to go up two flights of stairs to a room with an open skylight, and where I was made, willingly though, to walk up and down; sometimes Lang, sometimes another man, whom I loathed even worse, or the cross-eyed boy, accompanying me as jailer; this they called a pleasure airing. Yesterday, growing desperate, I offered my watch and chain to the cross-eyed boy, to liberate me. He listened, eyeing them greedily, saying to my delight,

"'Well, I'll try, Missis; for I'm a bit tired of airing of you and the three men, and a doing of other ch.o.r.es.' 'Are there three other prisoners beside myself,' I cried. 'Oh, no, ma'am; they be just a lodging 'ere on the quiet, loike you be.' 'You will free me, then, and gain my watch and chain; see how pretty it is, and pure gold.' 'Yes, the first chance I gets; but ye're not lying; ye'll give it all square?'

"But to hasten, for I feel tired and weak, though oh! so much better in mind; the middle man gave me my airing to-day, to whom I never spoke, though he laughed and jeered at me continually. I worried myself by thinking that, perhaps, the boy was only a spy, when this evening, after Mr. Lang had brought me my tea, and I was again locked in, to my joy, in a few minutes, the key turned, and the boy said, hurriedly, 'Come along, Missis; don't wait to take nothing; master's out, and Bill's run to the gin-palace, telling of me to keep guard.' Even as he spoke, we were downstairs, the bolt and chain undone, and, thank G.o.d, with the free air of heaven about us. 'Give us your 'and, Missis, ye're goin' the wrong way;' and on we sped with flying feet. 'Good-bye, Missis; now for the timer. It's a dandy,' he said, pocketing it; 'there's a 'ansum; you'd better take it, you are out of breath;' and with a shrill whistle, the man stopped; when the boy flew, and I took the hansom; and here I am home at last, thank G.o.d."

"What wretches!" cried Mary.

"You leave me no more, Sarah; you are evermore _my_ care; go to bed now, dear, and rest, for we will go up to London to-morrow, to ask Dr.

Annesley's advice. I shall go now to Broadlawns for your trunks; good night. Oh, how light my heart is now I have found you again, Sarah," he said, tenderly kissing her.

"We will be an old couple, Silas, dear," she said, quietly; "do you know, to-morrow will be our joint birthday; this is the eve of All Saints."

"Yes; and we shall be married to-morrow, when we are in the city; age doesn't count; our hearts are young, Sarah."

"Yes, Silas; I feel so happy I could sing,

"'Now we maun totter doon, John; But hand in hand we'll go; And we'll sleep thegither at the foot, John Anderson, my jo.'"

"Our lives have been ever hand in hand, Sarah, for we exchanged hearts long, long ago; but here is George; I shall go now with an easy mind, for he will guard you safely; good night."

"I have only time, to-night, to wish you joy, George, for I require rest," she said, going upstairs.

"Well, this is good," he said, rubbing his hands; "but, good night, sister, that is to be; my little wife here has her mouth open to give me your story."