The Bunsby papers Part 28

"No," he replied, striking his fist on the table. "I'm more discontented than ever, to think that a few hundred scoundrel schemers, or fortunate fools, should monopolize the rights of millions; isn't it devilish hard that I can't put my hand in my pocket and make this poor fellow's heart jump for joy."

"Point out to him where he can get some employment, Thomas, and his heart will be continually jumping," replied Polly.

By this time the poor stranger had finished his extempore meal, and shut up his pocket-knife, which he first carefully wiped on the tail of his coat. "May G.o.d bless you for this," said he. "I'm stronger now.

I'll go an' hunt for a job; may-be luck won't be a stepfather to me all my days."

"Stop," cried Tom, "suppose I were to give you something to do, what would you say?"

"Faix, I wouldn't say much, sir," said the Irishman, "but I'd do it."

"Come along with me, then, and if I get any job, I'll get you to help me."

"Oh, then, may long life attend you for puttin' fresh blood in my veins," responded the excited Milesian, giving his already curiously bad hat a deliberate punch in the crown, to show his grat.i.tude and delight.

"Bless his n.o.ble, honest, loving heart," cried Polly, as Tom, having impressed his usual kiss upon her lips, started to his labor again. "If it were not for those little fits of discontent every now and then, what a man he'd be; but we can't be all perfect; don't I catch myself thinking silks and satins sometimes, instead of cottons and calicoes?

and I'll be bound, if the truth was known, the great folks that wear nothing else but grand things, don't behave a bit better, but keep longing for something a little grander still, so _he_ mustn't be blamed, nor he shan't, neither, in my hearing."

CHAPTER III.

THE BOARDING-HOUSE.

Turn we now to the _highly-genteel_ establishment where Henry Travers and his young wife are now domiciliated, presided over by a little more than middle-aged, severe-looking personage, who rejoiced in the euphonious name of GRIMGRISKIN; her temper, phraseology, and general disposition may be better ill.u.s.trated by the conversation which is now going on between her and her two unfortunate inmates. The mid-day acc.u.mulation of sc.r.a.ps, which was dignified by the name of dinner, but just over, Henry Travers, in his small, uncomfortable bed-room, was ruminating upon the darkness of his present destiny, when a sharp knock at his door admonished him that he was about to receive his usual dunning visit from his amiable landlady.

"Come in," he gasped, with the articulation of a person about to undergo a mild species of torture.

"You'll excuse me, good people," said Grimgriskin, "for the intrusion; but business is business, and if one don't attend _to_ one's business, it's highly probable one's business will make unto itself wings, and, in a manner of speaking, fly away: not that I want to make you feel uncomfortable. I flatter myself, in this establishment, n.o.body need be under such a disagreeable apprehension; but houses won't keep themselves, at least _I_ never knew any so to do. Lodgings is lodgings, and board is board; moreover, markets--specially at this season of the year--may reasonably be said to be _markets_; beef and mutton don't jump spontaneously into one's hands; promiscuous-like, neither do the hydrants run tea and coffee--at least as far as my knowledge of hydrants goes."

"The plain sense of all this is"----

"Exactly what I am coming to," interrupted the voluble hostess. "I'm a woman of few words; but those few, such as they are, I'm proud to say, are generally to the purpose. I make it a point to send in my bills regularly every month, and I presume that it's not an unreasonable stretch of imagination to expect them to be paid. Now, for the last three months they have come up to you receipted, and down to me with what one might call the autographical corner torn off. Now, as it is not in my nature to make any one feel uncomfortable, and being a woman of very few words, I would merely intimate to you that rents is rents--and, moreover, must be paid--and mine, I am sorry to observe, is not a singular exception in such respect."

"My dear Mrs. Grim"----

"One moment!" interposed the woman of few words. "Perhaps you may not be aware of the circ.u.mstance, but I have my eyes open--and, moreover, my ears--whispers is whispers, and I _have_ heard something that _might_ make you uncomfortable; but as that is not my principle, I won't repeat it; but talkers, you know, will be talkers, and boarders can never be anything else in the world but boarders."

"What have they dared to say of us?" inquired Henry.

"Nothing--oh! nothing to be repeated--dear, no! I'm proud to observe that my boarders pay regularly every month, and are therefore highly respectable; and respectable boarders make a respectable house, and I wouldn't keep anything else. Thank Heaven, I have that much consideration for my own respectability!"

"May I be permitted to ask what all this amounts to?" asked Henry, with commendable resignation.

"Just two hundred dollars," sharply replied Mrs. Grimgriskin; "being eighty for board, and one hundred and twenty for extras. I'm a woman of few words"----

"And I'm a man of less," said Henry, "I can't pay it."

"I had my misgivings," cried the landlady, tartly, "notwithstanding your boast of being connected with the rich Mr. Granite. Allow me to say, sir," she continued, seating herself upon a chair, "I've just sent for a hackman to take your trunks away, and I mean to retain the furniture until some arrangement is made."

"May I come in?" murmured a small, but apparently well-known voice at the door, from the alacrity with which Henry's poor, young wife rushed to open it, admitting old Sterling, the clerk.

"Let me look in your eyes," cried she; "is there any hope?"

Sterling shook his head.

"No--no more!"

"Heaven help us!" she exclaimed, as she tottered back to her seat.

"Heaven has helped you, my bright bird," said Sterling. "I only shook my head to make your joy the greater."

"What say you?" exclaimed Travers; "has that stony heart relented?"

"It is not a stony heart," replied Sterling; "I am ashamed of you for saying so. It's a good, generous heart. It has made mine glow with long-forgotten joy this day."

"Does he give us relief?" inquired Henry.

"He does," said the old man, the enthusiasm of generous happiness lighting up his features; "great, enduring relief. What do you think of five thousand dollars?"

"You dream, I dream!" cried Travers, starting up in astonishment; while Mrs. Grimgriskin, smoothing her unamiable wrinkles, and her ap.r.o.n at the same time, at the mention of so _respectable_ a sum, came forward, saying, in her newest-lodger voice--

"You'll excuse me; but I'm a woman of few words. I hope you won't take anything I've said as at all personal to you, but only an endeavor, as far as in me lies, to keep up the credit of my own establishment; as for that little trifle between us, of course you can take your own time about that." So saying, and with a profusion of unnoticed courtesies, she quitted the room.

She had scarcely done so, when, with a deep groan of agony, Sterling pressed his hand against his head, and staggered to a chair. In an instant, Henry and his wife were by his side.

"What is the matter, my dear Sterling?" cried Henry.

"Don't come near me," replied the old clerk, the very picture of despair and wretchedness; "I am the destroyer of your peace, and of my own, for ever. Oh! why was I allowed to see this dreadful day? Curse me, Travers! Bellow in my blunted ear, that my vile sense may drink it in. I've lost it--lost it!"

"Not the money?" exclaimed Henry and his wife at a breath.

"That's right! kill me--kill me! I deserve it!" continued Sterling, in an agony of grief. "Oh! careless, guilty, unhappy old man, that in your own fall must drag down all you love, to share your ruin!

lost--lost--lost, for ever!"

"Forgive even the appearance of injustice, my good, kind old friend,"

soothingly observed Travers. "It is I who am the doomed one. There is no use in striving against destiny."

"Don't, Henry, don't!" gasped the old clerk, through his fast-falling tears. "This kindness is worse than your reproof. Let me die--let me die! I am not fit to live!" Suddenly starting to his feet, he cried: "I'll run back--perhaps I may find it. Oh! no--no! I cannot; my old limbs, braced up by the thought of bringing you happiness, are weakened by the effect of this terrible reaction!"

"Come--come, old friend, take it not so much to heart!" said Travers, cheering him as well as he could. "There, lean upon me; we'll go and search for it together, and even if it be not found, the loss is not a fatal one, so long as life and health remain."

"You say this but to comfort me, and in your great kindness of heart, dear, dear boy!" cried Sterling, as he rose from the chair, and staggered out to retrace his steps, in the hope of regaining that which had been lost.

CHAPTER IV.