Mattie:-A Stray Volume I Part 23

"At _this_ time of day--where were you, Mattie?"

"In the shop, sitting here, I believe."

"Then they came in at the back, I suppose?"

"No, in the front, whilst Mrs. Watts was talking to me."

"What Mrs. Watts?--not the woman----"

"Yes, yes, the woman who would have tempted me to evil, years ago; she came into the shop this afternoon, and said that my father--as if I'd ever had one, sir!--had been inquiring for me in Kent Street."

"This is a curious story," muttered Mr. Wesden.

He put on his hat and went up-stairs; it was half an hour, or an hour before he reappeared, looking very grave and stern.

"They didn't come in at the back of the house--I can't make it out--eight pounds nine and sixpence is a heavy loss--I'll speak to the policeman."

Mr. Wesden went in search of a policeman, and presently returned with two members of the official force, with whom he went up-stairs, and with whom he remained some time. After a while Mr. Hinchford, senior, came home, heard the tidings, went into his room, and discovered a little money missing also, besides a watch-chain which he had left at home that day for security's sake, a link having snapped, and repairs being necessary.

Mr. Wesden and the policemen came down stairs and put many questions to Mattie and Ann Packet; finally the policemen departed, and Mr. Wesden very gravely walked about the shop, and paid but little attention to Mattie's expressions of regret.

"It's my carelessness, sir, and I hope you'll let me make it up. I've been saving money, sir, lately, thanks to you."

"Well, you can't say fairer than that, Mattie," he responded to this suggestion; "I'll think about that, and let you know to-morrow."

He never let Mattie know his determination, or seemed inclined to dwell upon the subject again; the robbery became a forbidden topic, and drifted slowly away from the present. But it was an event that saddened Mattie; for she could read that Mr. Wesden had formed his own ideas of its occurrence, and she tortured herself with the fear that he might suspect her. She had gained his confidence only to lose it; her antecedents were dark enough, and if he did not believe all that she had told him, then he must doubt if she were the proper person to manage the place in his absence.

He said nothing; he suggested no alteration; but he came more frequently to business; and he _was_ altered in his manner towards her.

Mattie was right--he suspected her; he thought he kept his suspicions to himself, for amidst the new distrust rose ever before him the past struggles of the girl in her faithful service to him, and he was not an uncharitable man. But the police had seconded his doubts--the story was an unlikely one, Mattie had been a bad character, and, above all, Mrs.

Watts, upon inquiry, had not lived in Kent Street or parts adjacent for the last three years. However, his better nature would not misjudge implicitly, although a shadow of distrust was between him and Mattie from that day forth. He said nothing to Harriet or his wife, but he seldom asked Mattie to his house at Camberwell now; he came more frequently for his money, and looked more closely after his stock; he had a habit of turning into the shop at unseasonable hours and taking her by surprise there.

Mattie bore with this for a while--for two or three months, perhaps, then her out-spoken nature faced Mr. Wesden one evening.

"You've got a bad thought in your head against me, sir."

Thus taxed, Mr. Wesden answered in the negative. Looking at her fearless face, and her bright eyes that so steadily met his, he had not the heart or the courage to confess it.

"I'd rather go away than you should think that; go away and leave you all for ever. I know," she added, very sorrowfully and humbly, "that my past life isn't a fair prospect to look back upon, and that it stands between you and your trust in me at this time."

"No, Mattie."

"If you doubt me----"

"If I believed that you were not acting fairly by me, I should not have you here an hour," he said.

He was carried away by Mattie's earnestness; he forgot his new harshness, which he had inherited with his change of life; before him stood the girl who had nursed his wife through a long illness, and he could not believe in her ingrat.i.tude towards him. After that charge and refutation, Mattie and Mr. Wesden were on better terms with each other--the robbery, the visit of Mrs. Watts, appeared all parts of a bad dream, difficult to shake off, but in the reality of which it was hard to believe. And yet it was all a terrible truth, too, and the story, true or false, of Mrs. Watts, late of Kent Street, had left its impression on Mattie, deep and ineffaceable; she could almost believe that from the shadowy past some stranger, cruel and villainous, would step forth to claim her.

Meantime the course of Sidney Hinchford's true love flowed on peacefully; he was happy enough now--with the hope of Harriet Wesden for a wife he became more energetic than ever in business; possibly even a young man less abrupt to his companions in office; for the tender pa.s.sion softens the heart wonderfully. He was more kind and less brusque in his manner. To Mattie he had been always kind, but she fancied that even she could detect a different and more gentle way with him.

When he returned from Camberwell--Mr. Wesden always shut him out at early hours--he generally brought some message from Harriet to the old half-friend and confidante, and at times would loiter about the shop talking of Harriet to Mattie, and sure of her sympathy with all that he said and did.

On one of the latter occasions, about six in the evening, he remarked,

"When Harriet and I are grand enough to have a large house of our own--for we can't tell what may happen--I shall ask you to be our housekeeper, Mattie."

Mattie's face brightened up; it had been rather a sad face of late, and Sidney Hinchford had observed it, and been puzzled at the reason. The story of the robbery had not affected him much.

"Oh! then I'll pray night and day for the big house, Mr. Sidney," she said, with her usual readiness of reply.

"Why, Mattie, are you tired of shop-keeping?"

"At times I am," she answered. "I don't know why. I don't see how to get on and feel happy. It's rather lonely here."

"You dissatisfied, Mattie! Why, I have always regarded you as the very picture of content."

"I'm not dissatisfied exactly; don't tell any one that, or they'll think I'm ungrateful for all the kindness that has been shown me, and all the confidence that has been placed in me. You, Mr. Hinchford, must not think I'm ungrateful or discontented."

"Perhaps you're ambitious, Mattie," he said, jestingly, "now you've mastered all the lessons which I used to set you, and can read and write as well as most of us."

"I don't exactly understand the true meaning of ambition," said Mattie.

"I'm no scholar, you know. Is it a wish to get on in the world?"

"Partly."

"I'm not ambitious. I wouldn't be a lady for the world. I would rather be of service to someone I love, than see those I love working and toiling for my sake. But then they must love me, and have faith in me, or I'm--I'm done for!"

Mattie had dropped, as was her habit when excited, into one of her old phrases; but its meaning was apparent, and Sidney Hinchford understood it.

"Something's on your mind, Mattie. Can I punch anybody's head for you?"

"No, thank you. But you can remember the promise about the housekeeper when you're a rich man."

Like Sidney's father, she accepted Sidney's coming greatness as a thing of course, concerning which no doubts need be entertained.

He laughed.

"It's a promise, mind. Good night, Mattie."

"Good night."

That night was to be marked by another variation of the day's monotony--by more than one. It was striking seven from St. George's Church, Southwark, when a stately carriage and pair dashed up Great Suffolk Street, and drew up at the stationer's door. A few moments afterwards a tall, white-haired old gentleman entered the shop leaning upon the arm of a good-looking young man, and advanced towards the counter.

The likeness of the elder man was so apparent to that of old Mr.

Hinchford up-stairs, that Mattie fancied it was he for an instant, until her rapid observation detected that the gentleman before her was much thinner, wore higher shirt collars, had a voluminous frill to his shirt, and a double gold eye-gla.s.s in his hand.

"Thank you, that will do. I won't trouble you any further."

"Shall I wait here?"