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 //
 
 L I E) R.AR,Y 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UN IVER5ITY 
 
 or ILLINOIS
 
 MATTIE:-A STRAY. 
 
 BY 
 
 THE AUTHOR OF 
 
 HIGH CHURCH," " XO CHURCH," 
 ;X:— A ^ 
 
 &c., &c. 
 
 By bestowing blessings upon otbers, we entail them on ourselves." 
 
 HoKACE Smith. 
 
 IX THREE VOLUMES. 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LOXDON: 
 
 HURST AND BLACKETT, PUBLISHERS, 
 
 SUCCESSORS TO HEXRY COLBURX, 
 
 13, GREAT ilARLBOROUGH STREET. 
 
 1864. 
 
 The right of Translation is reserved.
 
 LONDON : 
 
 PKINTED BY MACDONALD AND TUQWELL, BLENHEIM HOUSE. 
 
 BLENHETM STOEET, OXFOBD STREET.
 
 8^3 
 
 V, 1 
 
 INSCRIBED 
 TO 
 
 ALFRED EAMES, ESQ., 
 
 ROYAL NAVAL SCHOOL, NEW CROSS, 
 
 BY 
 
 HIS OLD AND ATTACHED FRIEND 
 
 THE AUTHOR.
 
 Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2010 with funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/mattiestray01robi
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 
 BOOK I. 
 
 
 
 FIGURES IN OUTLINE. 
 
 
 CILVPTER 
 
 I. Life in Great Suffolk Street 
 
 PAGE 
 
 3 
 
 II. 
 
 ]\L\TTIE 
 
 . 14 
 
 m. 
 
 Lodgers 
 
 . 30 
 
 IV. 
 
 Mr. Hinchford's Experlment 
 
 . 41 
 
 V. 
 
 Set up in Business 
 
 . 57 
 
 VI. 
 
 The end of the Prologue . 
 BOOK II. 
 
 THE NEW ESTATE. 
 
 , 68 
 
 I. Home for Good . 
 n. A Girl's Komance 
 in. Our Characters . 
 rV. A New Admirer . 
 V. Perse\t:rance 
 VI. " In the fulness of the heart," etc. 
 Vn. Confidence . . 
 "VT^n. Sidney states his Intentions 
 
 83 
 101 
 118 
 128 
 148 
 158 
 174 
 196
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 BOOK III. 
 
 UNDER SUSPICION. 
 
 I. An old Friend 
 
 11. Strange Visitors to Great Suffolk Street 
 HI. Sidney's Suggestion 
 IV. Perplexity .... 
 V. Mr. Wesden turns Eccentric 
 VI. A Burst of Confidence 
 VII. The Plan Frustrated . 
 VIII. A Sudden Journey 
 
 211 
 
 227 
 250 
 257 
 269 
 282 
 296 
 310
 
 BOOK J. 
 
 FIGURES IN OUTLINE 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 MAT TIE: A STRAY 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 LIFE IX GREAT SUFFOLK STREET. 
 
 It was not an evening party of the first water, or 
 given by people of first-rate position in society, or 
 held in a quarter whither the fashionable classes 
 most do congregate. It was a small party — osten- 
 sibly a juvenile party — held on the first floor of a 
 stationer's shop in Great Suffolk Street, South- 
 wark. 
 
 Not even a first-rate stationers', had the shutters 
 been down and the fog less dense to allow us to 
 inspect Mr. Wesden's wares ; but an emporium, 
 which did business in no end of things — cigars, 
 
 B 2
 
 4 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 tobacco-pipes, children's toys, glass beads by the 
 skein or ounce, fancy work, cottons and tapes. 
 These, the off- shoots from the stationery business, 
 the news-vending, the circulating of novels in four, 
 five, and six volumes at one penny per volume, if 
 not detained more than three days ; a stationery 
 business which report said had not turned out 
 badly for old Wesden, thanks to old Wesden's pa- 
 tience, industry and care, say we — thanks to his 
 screwing: and his close-fistedness that would not 
 have trusted his own mother, had she lived, said 
 tlie good people — for there are good people every- 
 where — in Great Suifolk Street. Certainly, there 
 were but small signs of " close-fistedness " about 
 the premises on that particular evening ; the shop 
 had been closed at an earlier hour than business 
 men would have considered suitable. They 
 were wasting the gas in Mr. Wesden's drawing- 
 room ; feasting and revelry held dominion there. 
 There had been three Separate knocks given at the 
 door from three separate Ganymedes — No. 1, with 
 oranges; No. 2, with tarts from the pastry-cook; No. 
 3, with beer, which last was left in a tin can of
 
 FIGURES IN OUTLINE. 5 
 
 colossal proportions, supper not being ready, and 
 beer being liable to flatness in jugs — especially the 
 beer from the Crown. 
 
 We watch all this from the outside, in the thick 
 fog which made things unpleasant in Great Suffolk 
 Street. There is more life, and life that apper- 
 tains to this chapter of our history, outside here 
 than in that first floor front, where the sons and 
 daughters of Mr. Wesden's neighbours are play- 
 ing at forfeits, romping, jumping, and laughing, 
 and thoroughly enjoying themselves. They are not 
 thinking of the fog, the up-stairs folk shut away 
 from the rawness of that January night ; it would 
 have troubled Mr. Wesden had his shop been open, 
 and led him to maintain a stricter watch over the 
 goods, and upon thoso customers w^hose faces might 
 be strange to him ; but he had forgotten the wea- 
 ther at that juncture, and sat in the corner of the 
 drawinfij-room, smoking his pipe, and keeping his 
 daughter — a bright-faced, golden-haired girl of 
 twelve — within his ran ore of vision. The ioa and 
 the cold troubled no one at Mr. Wesden's — only 
 " outsiders " objected, and remarked upon them to
 
 6 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 friends when they met, coughing over one, and shiv- 
 ering through the other, as lungs and scanty clothes 
 necessitated. The establishment of Mr. Wesden, 
 stationer, troubled or attracted, an outsider though, 
 who had passed and repassed it three or four times 
 between the hours of eight and nine, p.m., and at 
 haif-past nine had backed into the recess of Mr. 
 Wesden's doorway. A small outsider, of uncer- 
 tain age — a boy, a nondescript, an anything, judg- 
 ing by the pinched white face and unkempt hair ; 
 a girl, by the rag of a frock that hung upon her, 
 and from which her legs and feet protruded. 
 
 Subject matter of great interest was there for 
 this small watcher — huddled in the doorway, 
 clutching her elbows Avith her bony fingers, and 
 listening at the keyhole, or varying proceedings now 
 and then by stepping on to the clammy pavement, 
 and looking up, through the fog, at the lighted blinds, 
 once or twice indulging in a flat-footed kind of 
 jig, to keep her feet warm. She was one of few 
 loiterers in Great Suffolk Street that uncomfortable 
 night — men, women, and boys hurried rapidly 
 past, and thinned in number as the night stole on
 
 FIGURES IN OUTLINE. 7 
 
 — only a policeman slouched by occasionally, and 
 dismayed her somewhat, judging by her closer prox- 
 imity to Mr. Wesden's street door, whenever his 
 hea\y tread jarred upon her nerves. 
 
 When the majority of the shops was closed, 
 when the fog gi'ew^ denser as the lights went 
 out, and the few stragglers became more phantom- 
 like and grey, quite a regiment of policemen 
 marched dow^n Great Suffolk Street, changing 
 places at certain corners with those officials who had 
 done day-duty, and glad to have done, for that day 
 at least. 
 
 The new policeman wdio crawled upon Mr. 
 Wesden's side of the way, was a sharper man than 
 he who had left off crawling, and gone home at a 
 gallop to his wife and thirteen children , for the 
 new comer was not deceived by the deep-doorway 
 and the dense fog, but reached forth a hand and 
 touched the figure cow^ering in the shadows. 
 
 A red-faced young man, wdth a bull neck, 
 w^as this Suffolk Street official — an abrupt young 
 man, who shook people rather \dolently by the 
 shoulder, and hurt them.
 
 8 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 " Oh ! — stash that, please," ejaculated the child, 
 at last ; " you hurts ! " 
 
 " What do you want here f ' 
 
 "Nothin' partickler. If the younoj gal inside 
 knows I'm here, she'll send out somethin' prime. 
 That's all. Last thinoj, afore she goes to bed, she 
 comes and looks, mostly. She's a good 'un." 
 
 " Ah ! you'd better go home." 
 
 " Can't manage to make it up tuppence — and 
 square the last penny with Mother Watts. You 
 know Mother Watts f 
 
 "Ah I" 
 
 "Well, she's down upon me. Watts is — so I 
 can't go home." 
 
 " You must go somewhere — you can't stop 
 here." 
 
 " Lor bless you, this is the comfortablest doorway 
 in the street, if you don't mind, p'leesman. I often 
 turn in here for the night, and some of you fine 
 fellers lets a gal bide, and ain't so down upon her 
 as you are. You're new to this beat." 
 
 " Am I, really f was the ironical rejoinder. 
 
 "You used to do Kent Street and stir up
 
 FIGURES IN OUTLINE. 9 
 
 Mother Watts. You locked up Mother Watts once 
 — don't you remember ?" 
 
 " Yes — I remember. Are you going ?" 
 
 " If you won't let a gal stay, o' course I am. 
 They've got a jolly kick-up here — that gal with 
 the blue frock's birthday — old Wesden's gal, as I 
 just told you about — I wish I was her ! Did you 
 ever see her of a Sunday ?" 
 
 " Not that I know on." 
 
 " Just like the little gals at the play — spruce as 
 carrots — and gloves on, and such boots ! Fust rate, 
 I can tell you." 
 
 " I wouldn't jaw any more, but go home," 
 suggested the policeman. 
 
 " All right, master. I say, don't you twig how 
 the fog has got on my chest f 
 
 " Well, you are hoarse-ish." 
 
 " Spilt my woice yesterday, and made it wus by 
 tryin' it on in Union Street to-day. Gave it up, 
 and bought a haporth of lucif ers, and got the boxes 
 in my pocket now. Hard lines to-night, mate." 
 
 Familiarity breeds contempt and engenders re- 
 buke — the loquacity of the child offended the
 
 10 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 official, who drew her from the doorway with a 
 jerk, totally unexpected upon her side, and placed 
 her in the roadway. 
 
 "Now be off from here — I've had enough of 
 your 
 
 " Werry well — why didn't you say so afore ?" 
 
 And, T^^thout waiting for a reply to her query, 
 the child went down Great Suffolk Street towards 
 the Borough, sullenly and slowly. The policeman 
 watched her vanish in the fog, and resumed his 
 way; he had done his duty to society, and 
 " moved on " one who had insulted it by her 
 helplessness and squalor ; there was a woman 
 shrieking deniuiciations on the pot-man of the 
 public house at the corner — a man who had 
 turned her unceremoniously into the street — let 
 him proceed to business in a new direction. 
 
 Twenty steps on his way, and the ill-clad, sharp- 
 visaged girl, stealing back in the fog to the wel- 
 come doorway whence he had abruptly expelled 
 her. 
 
 " He's not everybody," she ejaculated, screwing 
 herself comfortably into her old quarters, " though
 
 FIGURES IX OUTLINE. 11 
 
 he thinks he is. I wonder what they're up to 
 now? Don't I wish it was my buff-clay, and some- 
 body had somethink to giye me, that's all. Don't I 
 — oh! gemini." 
 
 "Hillol — Ibegpardon — I didn't know anyone was 
 hiding here — haye I hurt you?" inquired a youth, 
 who, running down Great Suffolk Street at a 
 smart pace, had turned into this doorway, and 
 nearly jammed its occupant to death with the 
 sudden concussion. 
 
 " You've done for my lights, young un," was the 
 graye assertion. 
 
 " Yom-— your what?" 
 
 " My congreve lights — there's a kiyer gone — I 
 heered it scrunch. S'pose you'll pay like a — like a 
 man ?" 
 
 '' I — I'm yery sorry, but really I'm rather scarce 
 of pocket-money just now — in fact, I'ye spent it 
 all," stammered the lad. " You see, it was your 
 fault, hiding here, and playing about here at this 
 time of night, and I was in a hurry, being late." 
 
 " There isn't anyone inside who'd stand a ha- 
 penny, is there ?" whined the girl ; " I'm the gal
 
 12 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 that's alius about here, you know — I've Imd nuffin' 
 to eat to-day, and ain't no money for a night's 
 lodging. I'm hard up — wery hard up, upon my 
 soul. I don't remember being so druv since mother 
 died o' the fever — never. And I'm not well — got 
 a sore throat, which the fog touches up —awful." 
 
 " I'll — I'll ask my pa' ; but I don't think there 
 is anything to give aw^ay." 
 
 The youth knocked at the door, and presently 
 rushed by the servant who opened it, paying no 
 heed to the remark of — 
 
 " Well, you are late, Master Sidney, I must 
 say!" 
 
 The door closed again, and Master Sidney — a 
 tall lad of fourteen, with long brown hair, brown 
 eyes, and a white face — tore up the stairs two steps 
 at a time, and dashed with but little ceremony into 
 the dining-room, where the supper was laid by that 
 time, and the juveniles were ranged round the 
 table, large-eyed and hungry. 
 
 A shout from the boys assembled there — " Here's 
 Sidney Hinchf ord ;" a reproof from a stiff-backed, 
 white-haired old gentleman in the corner — " Where
 
 FIGURES IN OUTLINE. 13 
 
 have you been, boy?" a light-liaired fairy in white 
 muslin and blue sash darting towards him, crying, 
 " Sidney, Sidney, I thought you were lost !" 
 
 '' So I have been — lost in the fog — such a mull 
 of it ! I'll tell you presently when IS e spoken to 
 pa' for a moment. And, oh ! Harriet, here's — here's 
 a little brooch I've bought, and with many happy, 
 happy returns of the day from a tiresome playfellow, 
 and — and — stolen, by Jingo /" 
 
 The hand withdrew itself from the side pocket 
 of his jacket, and was passed over the forehead, 
 the lower jaw dropped, the brown eyes glared round 
 the room, across at the opposite wall, and up at the 
 gas branch — a two-burner of a bronze finger-post 
 pattern, — and then Master Sidney doubled up sud- 
 denly and collapsed.
 
 14 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 MATTIE. 
 
 Mes. Sarah Jane Watts, better known to 
 society and society's guardians by the cognomen of 
 Mother Watts, kept a lodging-house in Kent 
 Street. They who know^ where Kent Street, 
 Borough is, and what Kent Street is hke by night 
 and day, can readily imagine that the establishment 
 of Mrs. Watts w^as not a large one, or the prices 
 likely to be high. ^Irs. Watts' house, in fact, be- 
 longed not to Kent Street proper, but formed No. 
 2 of a cut-throat-looking court, crossing Kent 
 Street at right angles. Here beds, or shares of 
 beds, or shelves arranged horizontally under beds, 
 w^ere let out at twopence per head, or three-half- 
 pence without the blankets, which were marked, 
 ''Stop Thief!"
 
 FIGURES IN OUTLINE. 15 
 
 Whether Mrs. Watts did badly with her busi- 
 ness, or whether business prospered with her, it 
 was difficult to determine by the landlady's external 
 appearance, Mrs. W. being ever in rags, ever full 
 of complaints and — drink. " Times " were always 
 hard with her — the police were hard with her — 
 her Kent Street contemporaries were hard with 
 her — didn't treat her fair, undersold her, put more 
 in a bed and charged less — " split upon her when 
 things weren't on the square. Kent Street wasn't 
 what it was when she was a gal !" 
 
 People constantly breathing the same atmos- 
 phere may notice a change in the "surroundings," 
 but to common observers, or prying people paying 
 occasional visits to this place, Kent Street seems 
 ever the same — an eye-sore to public gaze, 
 a satire on parish cleanliness and care, a disgrace 
 to parish authorities in general, and landlords and 
 ground landlords in particular. 
 
 Ever to common eyes the same appearances 
 in Kent Street. The bustle of a cheap trade in 
 its shops ; the knots of thieves and loose-livers at 
 every narrow turning; the murmurs of unseen
 
 16 MATTIE : A .STRAY. 
 
 disputants, in the true London vernacular, welling 
 from dark entries and upstairs rooms; the shoals of 
 children, hatless, shoeless, almost garmentless — 
 all a medley of sights and sounds, increasing to- 
 wards night-fall, when Kent Street is full of horror, 
 and lives and purses are not safe there. 
 
 It is eleven in the evening of the same day^ in 
 which our story opens, and Mrs. Sarah Jane Watts, 
 baggy as regards costume, and unsteady as regards 
 her legs, was standing in the doorway of her domi- 
 cile, inspecting, by the light of the candle in her 
 hand, a trinket of some kind, which had been prof- 
 fered her by a smaller mortal, infinitely more 
 ragged than herself. 
 
 " You got it honestly — I takes your word for it 
 — you allers was a gal who spoke the truth, I will 
 say that for you — it's a sham affair, and brassy as 
 a knocker — say eightpence ?" 
 
 " It's really gold, Mrs. Watts — it's worth a heap of 
 money." 
 
 '' It's the brassiest thing that ever I clapped eyes 
 on — say eightpence and a bit of supper? " 
 
 *' What sort o* supper f
 
 FIGUEES IN OUTLINE. 17 
 
 " Hot supper — tripe and ingims — as much as you 
 can pad with." 
 
 '' It's worth a sight more, if it's gold." 
 
 "I'll ask Simes — go upstairs and wait a minit' — 
 Simes '11 tell us if it's gold, and praps stand more 
 for it. I don't want the thing — I don't think it's safe 
 to keep, myself ; and if you've prigged it, Mattie, 
 why, you'd better let it go." 
 
 "Very well." 
 
 Mattie — the girl whom we have watched in the 
 dark entry of Mr. Wesden's door, wearied out 
 with Mrs. Watts' loquacity, or overpowered by her 
 arguments, went upstairs into a room on the first 
 floor. A long, low-ceilinged room, containing 
 three beds, and each bed containing four women 
 and a few supplementary children, one aifected 
 with a whooping-cough that was evidently fast 
 racking it to death. This was the feminine dormi- 
 tory of Mrs. Watts — a place well known to London 
 women in search of a night's rest, Southwark way 
 — a place for the ballad singer who had twopence 
 to spend, or a soul above the workhouse ; for the 
 beggar-women who had whined about the street- 
 VOL. I. C
 
 18 MATTIE : A STEAY. 
 
 all day ; for the tramps passing from Surrey to 
 Essex, and taking London en route ; for women ot 
 all callings, who were deplorably poor, idle or vicious 
 — it mattered not, so that they paid Mrs. Watts 
 her claim upon them. 
 
 Mattie sat down by the fire, and began shivering 
 with more violence than had characterized her in 
 the cold and fog. The disturbed shadow, flung by 
 the fire-light — the only light there — on the Avail, 
 shivered and danced grotesquely in the rear. No 
 one took notice of the new-comer — although more 
 than one Avoman lay awake in the background. 
 A wrinkled hag, reposing with her basket of stay- 
 laces under her head for security's sake, Avinked and 
 blinked at her for a Avhile, and then Avent off into a 
 disjointed snore — the young mother Avith the sick 
 child, sat up in her share of the bed, and rocked 
 the coughing infant backwards and forAvards, till her 
 neighbour, Avitli an oath, swore at her for letting the 
 cold in ; then all was as Mattie had found it upon 
 entering. 
 
 Presently Mrs. Watts returned, candle in hand, 
 smelling more aromatically of something hot and 
 strong than cA'er.
 
 FIGURES IN OUTLINE. 19 
 
 " Simes says it's brass, and worth eightpence, and 
 here's the money. Strike me dead, if he said more 
 than eightpence, there I — strike him bhnd, if he'll 
 get a farden out of it !" 
 
 " Where's the money?" 
 
 " Here's fippence — tuppence for to-night, and a 
 penny you owe me, that makes eightpence : and as 
 for supper, why, I'll keep my word — no one can 
 ever say of Mother Watts that she didn't keep her 
 word in anythink she undertooked." 
 
 " I — I don't care so much about supper as I did 
 — ain't I just husky? No singing to-morrow, mother/" 
 
 " Only singing small," was the rejoinder with a 
 grunt at her own wit ; " you'd do better picking up 
 brooches — you was allers clever with your fingers, 
 mind you. I only wish I'd been 'arf as sharp when 
 I was young." 
 
 "I — I only wish I hadn't — found the thing," 
 commented the girl, sorrowfully. 
 
 " Well, I'm blest !" 
 
 Mrs. Watts was taking off the lid of her sauce- 
 pan, and probing the contents with a fork. 
 
 '^ Fippence isn't a fortun, and the young chap 
 
 2
 
 20 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 gave me a hapeimy once when I was singing in 
 Suffolk Street — I didn't mean it, somehow — I said 
 I never would again ! Don't you remember when 
 mother died here, how she went on just at the last 
 as to what was to become o' me ; and didn't I say 
 I'd grow up good, and stick to singing and begging, 
 and all that fun — or go to the workus — or any- 
 think?" 
 
 " Ah ! your mother was a fine 'un to go on some- 
 times." 
 
 " And then I " 
 
 " Now, I don't want to hear anythink about your 
 goings on — ^I don't know where you found that 
 brassy brooch — I don't want to know — Simes don't 
 want to know ! We takes your word for it, that 
 it was come by proper, and the less you say about 
 it, the better ; and the sooner you turns into bed, 
 if you don't want no supper, the better too." 
 
 "I don't see a good twopen'orth over there," 
 commented Mattie ; " they're as full as ever they 
 can stick." 
 
 " Take the rug, gal, and have it all to yourself, 
 liere by the fire."
 
 FIGURES IN OUTLINE. 21 
 
 " Well, it's not so bad. I say — you know old 
 Wesden?" 
 
 "What, in Suffolk Street?— well." 
 
 " He's got a party to-niglit — I have been a lis- 
 tening to the music — they've been dancing and all 
 manner. And laughing — my eye! they just have 
 been a-laughing, Mother Watts — I've been laugh- 
 ing myself to hear 'em." 
 
 " Um," was the unsympathetic response. 
 
 " It's a buff-day — Wesden's gal's buff-day. You 
 know Wesden's gal — proud of herself rather, and 
 holds her head up in furst-rate style, as well she 
 may with such a shop as her father's got in Suffolk 
 Street, and good and pretty as she is. Lor bless her! 
 I s'pose old Wesden's worth pounds and pounds 
 now?" 
 
 " Hundreds." 
 
 " Hundreds and hundreds of pounds," com- 
 mented Mattie, coiling herself in the rug upon the 
 floor; "ah! I s'pose so. I often thinks, do you 
 know, I should like to be Wesden's little gal — what 
 a lucky thing it 'd be to be turned somehow into
 
 22 3IATTIE : A STKAY. 
 
 Wesden's little gal, just at Christmas time, when 
 fairies are about." 
 
 "What!" 
 
 " Real fairies, on course — not the gals with the 
 legs in the pantermines. If there was any real 
 fairies on course too, but I'm too knowing to 
 b'lieve that. But if there was, I'd say, please turn 
 me into Wesden's little gal, and give me the big 
 doll by the parler door, and dress me like a lady 
 in a blue meriner." 
 
 " Well, you are going on nicely about Wesden's 
 gal. That was alius your fault, Mattie — such a 
 gal to jaw, jaw, jaw — such a clapper, clapper, 
 clapper about every think and everybody." 
 
 " I was just a-thinking that I ivas going it 
 rather, but I ain't a bit sleepy, and I thought you 
 wouldn't mind me while you was having your 
 supper, and my throat's so awful sore, and you 
 ain't so sharp quite, as you are sometimes. Do you 
 know what I'd do, if I was a boy?" 
 
 " How should I know?" 
 
 " Go to sea — get away from here, and grow up 
 'spectable. I wouldn't stop in Kent Street — I hate
 
 FIGUKES IN OUTLINE. 23 
 
 Kent Street — I'd walk into the country — oh I ever 
 so far — until 1 came to the sea, and then I'd find a 
 ship and turn sailor." 
 
 '' Lookee here, you young drab," cried the stay- 
 lace woman, suddenly opening her eyes, and shriek- 
 ing out in a shrill falsetto, " I'll turn out and skin 
 you, if you can't keep that tongue still. What am I 
 here for? — what did I pay tuppence for? — isn't that 
 cussed coughing baby enough row at a time ?" 
 
 ^'If you've got anythink to say aginst my baby," 
 said a husky voice in the next bed, " say it out to 
 his mother, and mind your cat's head while you say 
 it, you disagreeable baggage!" 
 
 "Well, the likes of that!" 
 
 "And the likes of you, for that matter — don't 
 give me any more of your sarse, or I'll " 
 
 A tapping on the door with a stick diverted the 
 general attention. 
 
 "Who's there?" 
 
 " Only me, IMi's. Watts." 
 
 " Oh ! only you," was the response ; " come in, 
 will yer? I've no need to lock myself in, while I 
 hide the swag away. Now, what's the matter ?"
 
 24 MATTIE : xV STRAY. 
 
 The door was opened, and enter a policeman, a 
 man in private clothes, with a billycock hat and a 
 walking-stick, accompanied by a pale-faced, long- 
 haired youth, of fourteen years of age. 
 
 " Nothing particular the matter — only something 
 lost as usual, Mrs. Watts," said the man in private 
 dress, politely. " Where's Mattie to-night ?" 
 
 ^' There she is. She's been in all the evening 
 with a bad throat." 
 
 " Poor girl — throats is bad at this time of the 
 year." 
 
 The speaker looked at the lad at his side, after 
 giving the first turn backward to the rug. 
 
 "Is this the girl?" 
 
 The policeman took the candle from the table, 
 and held the light close to the girl's face — white, 
 pinched, and haggard, with black eyes full of 
 horror. 
 
 " Don't say it's me, please," she gasped, in a low 
 voice; "I'm the gal that sings in Suffolk Street on 
 a Saturday night, and they gives wittles to at 
 Wesden's. It isn't me." 
 
 Mattie had intended to brave it out at first, to
 
 FIGUKES IN OUTLINE. 25 
 
 have remained stolid, sullen, and defiant, after the 
 manners of her class ; but she felt ill and nervous, 
 and the shadow of the prison-house loomed before 
 her and made her heart sink. Prison was a com- 
 fortable place in its way, but she had never taken 
 to it — one turn at it had been enough for her. If 
 it had been a policeman, or old Wesden, or any- 
 body but this boy three years her senior in age, 
 many years her junior in knowledge of the world, 
 she would have been phlegmatic to the last ; but 
 this boy had been kind to her twice in life — once 
 on Christmas-eve, and once on a Saturday night 
 before that, and she gave way somewhat, partly 
 from her new and unaccountable weakness, partly 
 because it was not a very stern face that looked 
 down into hers. 
 
 "That's her, sure enough — eh, young gentle- 
 man ?" remarked the police officer in private 
 clothes. 
 
 There was another pause — the girl's face blanched 
 still more, and the look in her eyes became even 
 more intense and eager ; the boy glanced over his 
 shoulder at the servants of the law.
 
 26 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 " No— this isn't the girl. Oh ! no." 
 
 " Are you quite certain ? Stand up, Mattie." 
 
 Mattie turned out of her rug and stood up, 
 erect and motionless, with her hands to her side, 
 and her sharp black e^-es still on Master Hinch- 
 ford. 
 
 " Oh ! no, policeman. Ever so much taller!" 
 
 " Then we're on the wrong scent it seems, and 
 you'd better go home and leave it to us. Good 
 night, Mrs. Watts." 
 
 " Good night," was the muttered response. 
 
 Policeman, detective, and Master Hinchford 
 went down the stairs to the court, out of the court 
 into Kent Street, black and noisome — a turgid 
 current, that w^ore only a semblance of stillness at 
 hours more late than that. 
 
 " We'll let you know in the morning if there's 
 any clue," said the detective. "Jem," to the 
 policeman, " see this lad out of Kent Street." 
 
 " All right. I think I'd try old Simes for the 
 brooch." 
 
 " I'll drop on him presently. Good night, Jem." 
 
 "Goodnight."
 
 FIGURES IX OUTLINE. 27 
 
 The boy and policeman went to the end of Kent 
 Street together, then the boy bade the policeman 
 cpood night, ran across the road, recrossed in the 
 fog a little lower down, and edged his way round 
 St. George's Church into the old objectionable 
 thoroughfare. A few minutes afterwards, he 
 walked cautiously into the upstairs room of Mrs. 
 Watts, startling that good lady at her late tripe 
 supper very considerably. 
 
 ^^ Hollo ! young gemman, what's up now ?" 
 
 Mattie, who had been crouching before the fire, 
 shrank towards it more, with her hands spread 
 out to the blaze. She looked over her shoulder at 
 the door, anticipating his two unwelcome com- 
 panions to follow in his wake. 
 
 " Look here, Mattie," said he, in a very cool 
 and business-like manner, " fair's fair, you 
 know. I've let you off in a handsome manner, 
 but I'm not going to lose the brooch. If it had 
 been a trumpery brooch, I shouldn't have cared so 
 much." 
 
 "Was it real gold r 
 
 " A real gold heart. I gave twelve and six-
 
 28 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 pence for it — I've been saving up for it ever since 
 last April." 
 
 " I'll get it — I'll try and get it," said Mattie ; 
 ^'I haven't it myself now — it's been passed on. 
 Upon my soul, I'll try my hardest to get it back, 
 see if I don't." 
 
 " We'll all try our werry hardest, sir," remarked 
 Mrs. Watts, blandly. 
 
 " Ah ! I daresay you will," said the boy, dubi- 
 ously ; '' p'raps it had been better if I'd told the 
 truth — my pa always says ' Stick to the truth, 
 Sidney ;' but you did look such a poor body to 
 lock up, that I told a lie for once. And who would 
 have thought that you were a regular thief, flattie !" 
 
 '' I'm not a reg'lar — I don't like thieving — I've 
 only thove when I've been werry — werry — hard 
 druv ; and I wasn't thinking of thieving, ony of 
 getting warm, when you came bump aginst me in 
 the doorway. I meant to have knocked and asked 
 for a scrap to eat after awhile, when they'd all got 
 good-tempered over the beer and things. I'll bring 
 the brooch — I'll get it back — leave it to me, JSIaster 
 Hinchford."
 
 riGUPwES IN OUTLIXE. 29 
 
 " How did you know my name ?" 
 
 " Oh ! I know everybody about here — eveiybody 
 at your place, 'specially. Old Wesden and his 
 gal in the blue meriner — and you, and your father 
 with the red face and the white mustache and hair 
 — and the servant, and the boy who takes the 
 papers out, and is alius dropping them out of the 
 oil-skin kiver, and every^body. Til bring the 
 brooch, because you let me off. Tiaist me/' she 
 repeated again. 
 
 " Well, I'll trust you. Fair play, mind." 
 
 " And now, cut out of this — it isn't quite a safe 
 place for you, and the people can't sleep if you 
 talk, and you may catch the whooping cough " 
 
 " And you'll bring the brooch back ? It's a 
 bargain between us, Mattie." 
 
 "It's all right." 
 
 The youth re-echoed "all right," and went down- 
 stairs, watched from the dark landing by the girl 
 who had robbed him. After a while the girl 
 closed the door and followed slowly downstairs 
 also. She was going in search of old Simes.
 
 30 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 LODGERS. 
 
 " Depend upon it, Sidney, you'll never set eyes on 
 that brooch ao'ain." 
 
 "I'm not so sure about that," was the half- 
 confident reply. 
 
 " And depend upon it, you don't deserve to see 
 it, boy — and that I for one shall be glad if it never 
 turns up." 
 
 " Pa ! — you really can't mean it." 
 
 " You told a lie about it, Sidney, and though you 
 saved the girl from prison, yet it was a big, black 
 lie all the same ; and if luck follows it, why it's clean 
 against the Bible." 
 
 " The girl looked so pitifully at me, you see — 
 and I did think she might give the brooch back, 
 out of gratitude."
 
 FIGURES IN OUTLINE. 31 
 
 " Gratitude in a young thief out of Kent Street?"' 
 laughed the father ; ^' well, it's a lesson in life to 
 you, boy, and, after all, it only cost twelve and 
 sixpence." 
 
 " Ah !" sighed Sidney, " it was a long pull." 
 
 ^' You'll have learned by this that a lie never 
 prospers — that in the long run it confronts you 
 again when least expected, to make your cheek 
 burn with your own baseness. I w^onder now," 
 gravely surveying his son, " whether you would 
 have let that girl off, if there had been no hope 
 of the brooch cominop to lio;ht." 
 
 The boy hesitated — then looked full at his 
 sire. 
 
 " Well— I tliink I should." 
 
 ^' I think you told a lie for twelve and sixpence 
 — the devil o;ot a bargain from a Hinchford." 
 
 " You're rather hard upon me, pa," complained 
 the boy, " and it wasn't for twelve and sixpence, 
 because I never got the brooch back ; and if I ever 
 tell another lie, may I never see twelve and six- 
 pence of my own again. There !" 
 
 " Bravo, Sid! — that's a promise I'm glad to have
 
 32 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 wormed out of you, somehow. And yet — ye gods ! 
 — vvhat a promise ! " 
 
 " I'll keep it— see if I don't," said Master Sid- 
 ney, with his lips compressed, and his cheeks a 
 little flushed. 
 
 The father shook his head slowly. 
 
 "You are going into business — you will be a 
 business man, — presently a City man — one who 
 will drive hard bargains, make hard bargains, and 
 have to fight his way through a hundred thousand 
 liars. In the pursuit of money — above all, in the 
 scraping together of that fugitive article, you must 
 lie, or let a good chance go by to turn an honest 
 penny. I can't expect you much better than other 
 men, Sid." 
 
 " I wonder whether uncle lied much before " 
 
 " He lied as little as he could, I daresay," quickly 
 interrupted the father, " but he became a rich man, 
 and he rose from City trading. But I told 
 you once before — I think I have told you more 
 than once — that I never wish to hear that uncle's 
 name." 
 
 " Yes, but I had forgotten it for the moment —
 
 FIGURES IX OUTLINE. 33 
 
 speaking of money-making, and City men, threw 
 me a little off my guard." 
 
 " Yes, yes, I saw that, my boy — drop the curtain 
 over the old grievance, and shut the past away 
 from you and me. I don't complain — I'm happy 
 enough — a little contents me. In the future, with 
 a son to love and be proud of, I see the old man's 
 happiest days!" 
 
 " We'll try our best, sir, to make them so," ex- 
 claimed the boy. 
 
 " The Hinchfords are a buoyant race, and are 
 not to be always kept down. I never heard of 
 more than one of us, a poor man in the same gene- 
 ration ; the Hinchfords have intelligence, persever- 
 ance, and pluck, and they make their way in the 
 world. If I have been unlucky in my time, and 
 have dropped down to a lodging in Great Suffolk 
 Street, I see the next on the list," laying his hand 
 lightly on his boy's shoulder, "making his way 
 to the higher ground, God willing." 
 
 " I haven't made much way yet," remarked the 
 son, checking quietly the ambitious dreaming of the 
 father. " I have only left school two months, and 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 34 MATTIE : A STKAY. 
 
 an office-boy in Hippen's firm is not a very great 
 affair, after all." 
 
 "It's a step forward — don't grumble — you'll push 
 your way — you're a Hincliford." 
 
 " I'll do my best — I never was afraid of work." 
 
 " No — rather too fond of it, I fear. Some- 
 times I think there is no occasion to pore, pore, 
 pore over those books of an evening, studying 
 a lot of dry works, which can never be of service to 
 a City man." 
 
 " I should like to be precious clever !" was the 
 boy's exclamation. 
 
 The father laughed, and added, with more satire 
 than the boy detected — 
 
 " The precious clever ones seek out-of-the-way 
 roads to fortune, and miss them — die in the Avork- 
 house, occasionally. It is only respectable mediocrity 
 that jogs on to independence." 
 
 This strange dialogue between father and son 
 occurred in the first-floor of the little stationer's 
 shop in Great Suffolk Street. Father and son had 
 lodged there eight years at least ; Mrs. Hincliford, 
 a delicate woman, several years her husband's
 
 FIGURES IN OUTLINE. 35 
 
 junior, had died there — the place Avas home to the 
 stiff-backed, white-haired man, who had prophesied 
 a rise in life for his son. Eight or nine years ago, 
 the three Hinchfords had walked into Mr. Wes- 
 den's shop, and looked at the apartments that had 
 been announced to be let from the front pane of the 
 first-floor windows ; had, after a little whispering to- 
 gether, decided on the rooms, and had never left 
 them since, the wife excepted, who had died with 
 her husband's hand in hers, praying for her 
 boy's future. The Hinchfords had settled as 
 firmly to those rooms on the first-floor, as Mr. 
 Wesden, stationer, had settled to Great Suffolk 
 Street in ages remote. The rent was low, the 
 place was handy for Mr. Hinchford, who was clerk 
 and book-keeper to a large builders, Southwark 
 Bridge Road way; the attendance was not a matter 
 of trouble to the Hinchfords, and the land- 
 lord and his wife were vmobtrusiye people, and 
 ])referred the lodgers rent to their society. 
 
 For three years and a half the Hinchfords and 
 Wesdens had only exchanged good mornings 
 in their meetings on the stairs — the Wesdens 
 
 D 2
 
 36 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 were humble, taciturn folk, and the Hinchfords 
 proud and stand-offish. After that period Mrs. 
 Hinchford fell ill, and Mrs. Wesden became of 
 service to her ; helped, at last, to nurse her, and 
 keep her company during the long hours of her 
 husband's absence at business, even to take care of 
 her noisy boy down-stairs, when his boisterousness 
 in the holidays made his presence — much as the 
 mother loved him — unbearable. The Wesdens 
 were kind to the Hinchfords, and Mr. Hinchford, 
 a man to be touched by true sympathy, unbent at 
 that time. He was a proud man, but a sensible 
 one, and he never forgot a kinchiess proffered him. 
 He had belonged to a higher estate once, and, 
 dropping suddenly to a lower, he had brought his 
 old notions witli him, to render him wretched and 
 uneasy. He had thought himself above those 
 Wesdens — petty hucksters, as they were — until the 
 time when Mrs. Wesden became a kind nurse to 
 his mfe, almost a mother to his boy ; and then he 
 felt his own inferiority to a something in them, or 
 belonging to them, and was for ever after that 
 intensely grateful.
 
 FIGURES IX OUTLINE. 37 
 
 When ^Irs. Hinchford died, and the lonely man 
 had got over his first grief, he sought Mr. Wes- 
 den's company more often, smoked a friendly pipe 
 with him in the back parlour now and then — 
 begged to do so, for refuge from that solitary 
 drawing-room up-stairs, filled with such sad memo- 
 ries as it was then. Hinchford and Wesden did 
 not talk much, the latter was not fond of talking ; 
 and they were odd meetings enough, either in the 
 parlour, or in the up-stairs room, as business ne- 
 cessitated. 
 
 They exchanged a few words about the weather, 
 and the latest news in the papers, and then sub- 
 sided into their tobacco-smoke till it was time to say 
 good night ; but Wesden was company for Hinch- 
 ford in his trouble, and when time rendered the 
 trouble less acute, each had fallen into the habit of 
 smoking a pipe together once or twice a week, and 
 did not care to break it. 
 
 In the parlour meetings, Mrs. Wesden would 
 bring her spare form and pinched countenance be- 
 tween them, and would sit darning socks and say- 
 ing little to relieve the monotony — unless the
 
 38 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 little girl were sitting up late, and her vivacity re- 
 quired attention or reprimand. They were quiet 
 evenings with a vengeance, and Hinchford took 
 his cue from the couple who managed business .in 
 Great Suffolk Street — and managed it well, for 
 they minded their own, and were not disturbed by 
 other people's. 
 
 Whilst we are looking back — taking a passing 
 glimpse over our shoulder at the bygones — we may 
 as well add, that the Wesdens were naturally quiet 
 people, and did not put on company-manners for Mr. 
 Hinchford in particular. Thirty years ago they 
 had married and opened shop in Great Suffolk 
 Street ; struggled for a living without making a fuss 
 about it ; lived frugally, pinched themselves in many 
 ways which the world never knew anything about ; 
 surmounted the first obstacles in their way, and 
 then, in the same quiet manner, saved a little 
 money, then a little more, and then, as if by habit, 
 continued saving, maintaining the same appearance 
 in themselves, and the same quaint stolidity towards 
 their neighbours. They had even borne their 
 family troubles quietly, losing three children out of
 
 riGUEES IN OUTLINE. 39 
 
 four without any great demonstration of grief — 
 keeping tlieir lamentations for after-business hours, 
 and their inflexible faces for their curious neigh- 
 bours, to whom they seldom spoke, and from whom 
 they chose no friends. They were a couple con- 
 tented with themselves and their position in society, 
 — a trifle too frugal, if not near — staid, jogtrot, busi- 
 ness people of week days, church-goers who pa- 
 tronized free seats for economy's sake on Sundays. 
 Once a year the Wesdens launched out — cele- 
 brating, in the month of January, the natal day of 
 the bright-faced girl in whom so much love Avas 
 centred, for whom they were working steadily and 
 persistently still. They had a juvenile party on 
 that day always, and Harriet's school friends came 
 in shoals to the feast, and ^Ir. Wesden presented 
 his compliments to !Mr. Hinchford, and begged 
 the favour of borrowing the drawing-room for 
 one night, and hoped also to have the honour of Mr. 
 Hinchford's company, and Master Hinchford's 
 company, on that occasion — all of which being re- 
 sponded to in the aflirmative, affairs went off, as a 
 rule, satisfactorily, until that momentous night in
 
 40 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 January, when Master Sidney Hinchford lost his 
 brooch. 
 
 This incident altered many things, and led to 
 many things undreamed of by the characters yet 
 but in outline in these pages ; without it we should 
 not have sat down to tell the history of these people 
 — bound up so inextricably with that poor wanderer 
 of the streets whom we have heard called Mattie.
 
 FIGURES IN OUTLINE. 41 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 MR. HINCHFORD's EXPERIMENT. 
 
 The middle of March; six weeks since the robbery 
 of Master Hinchfords' gold heart ; a wet night in 
 lieu of a foggy one; a cold wind sweeping down the 
 street and dashing the rain all manner of ways ; 
 pattens and clogs clicking and shuffling about the 
 pavement of Great Suffolk Street ; the stationery 
 shop open, and Mr. Wesden at seven o'clock sitting 
 behind the counter waiting patiently for customers. 
 Being a wet night, and customers likely to be 
 scarce in consequence, !Mr. Wesden had carefully 
 turned out one gas burner and lowered the two 
 others in the window to imperceptible glimmers of 
 a despondent character, and then taken his seat be- 
 hind the counter ready for any amount of business 
 that might tui'n up between seven and half -past
 
 42 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 nine p.m. The gas was burning more brightly in 
 the back parlour, through the closed glass door of 
 which Mrs. Wesden was cutting out shirts, and 
 Miss Wesden learning, or feigning to learn, her 
 school lessons for the morrow. 
 
 Mr. Wesden was devoting his mind purely to 
 business ; in his shop he never read a book, or looked 
 at a newspaper, but waited for customers, always 
 in one position, with his head slightly bent forwards, 
 and his hands clutching his knees. In that posi- 
 tion the largest order had not the power to stagger 
 him — the smallest order could not take him off 
 his guard. He bent his mind to business — he was 
 " on duty " for the evening. 
 
 Mr. Wesden was a short, spare man, with a 
 narrow chest, a wrinkled face, a sharp nose, and a 
 sandy head of hair — a man whose clothes were 
 shabby, and ill fitted him, the latter not to be won- 
 dered at, Mrs. Wesden being the tailor, and making 
 everything at home. This saved money, and satis- 
 fied Mr. Wesden, who cared not for appearances, 
 had a soul above the fashion, and a faith in his 
 wife's judgment. In the old days Mrs. Wesden was
 
 FIGURES IX OUTLINE. 43 
 
 forced to turn tailor and trouser-maker, or see her 
 husband without trousers at all; tailoring had 
 become a habit since then, and agreed with her — 
 it saved money still, and economy was ever a virtue 
 with this frugal pair. 
 
 Mr. Wesden in his shop-suit then — that was his 
 shabbiest suit, and exceedingly shabby it was — sat 
 and waited for customers. He waited patiently ; 
 to those who strayed in for sheets of note-paper, 
 books to read, shirt-buttons, tapes, or beads, he was 
 very attentive, settling the demands with prompti- 
 tude and despatch, saying little save "a wet evening," 
 and not to be led into a divergence about a hundred 
 matters foreign to business, until the articles were 
 paid for, and the money in his till. Then, if a 
 few loquacious customers icoidd gossip about the 
 times, he condescended to listen, regarding them 
 from his meaningless grey eyes, and responding in 
 monosyllables, when occasion or politeness required 
 some kind of answer. But he was always glad to 
 see their faces turned towards the door — they 
 wearied him very much, these people, and it was
 
 44 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 odd they could not take away the articles they had 
 purchased, and go home in quietness. 
 
 To people in the streets who, caught by some 
 attraction in his window, stopped and looked thereat, 
 he was watchful from behind his counter — specu- 
 lating as to whether they were probable purchasers, 
 or had felonious designs. He was a suspicious 
 man to a certain extent as well as a careful one, 
 and no one lingered at his window without becoming 
 an object of interest from behind the tobacco-jars 
 and penny numbers. On this evening a haggard 
 white face — whether a girl or woman's he could not 
 make out for the mist on the window-panes — had 
 appeared several times before the shop-window, 
 and looked in, over the beads, and tapes, and 
 through packets of paper, at him. Not interested 
 at anything for sale, but keeping an eye on him, he 
 felt assured. 
 
 He had a bill in the window — "A Boy 
 Wanted " — and if it had been a boy's face flitting 
 about in the rain there, he should not have been 
 so full of doubts as to the object wdth which 
 he was watched ; but there was a battered bonnet
 
 FIGURES IN OUTLINE. 45 
 
 on the head of the watcher, and therefore no room 
 for speculation concerning sex, at least. 
 
 After an hour's fugitive dodging, Mattie — for it 
 was she — came at a slow rate into the shop. She 
 walked forwards very feebly, and took a firm grip 
 of the counter to steady herself. 
 
 Mr. Wesden critically surveyed her from his post 
 
 of observation ; she did not speak, but she kept her 
 
 black eyes directed to the face in front of her. 
 
 "Well— what do you want, :Mattie?" asked Mr. 
 « 
 Wesden, finally. 
 
 " Nothin' — that is to buy." 
 
 " Ah ! then we've nothing to give away for you 
 any more." 
 
 " I want to speak to Master Hinchford," said 
 Mattie ; " I've come about the brooch." 
 
 '^ Xot brought it back I" exclaimed ^Ii*. Wesden, 
 roused out of his apathetic demeanour by this 
 assertion. 
 
 " I wish I had — no, I on'y want to see him." 
 
 Mr. Wesden called to his wdfe, and delivered 
 Mattie's request through the glass, keeping one eye 
 on the new comer all the while. Mrs. Wesden
 
 46 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 sent her daughter upstairs with the message, and 
 presently from a side door opening into the shop 
 Miss Wesden made her appearance. 
 
 " If you please, will you walk upstairs f ' 
 
 Harriet Wesden spoke very kindly, and edged 
 away from Mattie as she advanced— Mattie was the 
 girl who had stolen the brooch, a strange creature 
 from an uncivilized world, and the stationer's little 
 daughter was afraid of her old pensioner. 
 
 The girl from the streets stared at Harriet 
 Wesden, in her turn, looked very intently at her 
 warm dress and white pinafore, and then looked 
 back at Mr. Wesden. 
 
 " May I go up, sir ?" 
 
 '"'' I don't see why they can't come down here," 
 he grumbled, ^^ but you must go up if they want to 
 see you. Stop here, Harriet, and call Ann — you 
 might catch something, girl." 
 
 Ann was called, and presently a broad-faced, 
 red-armed girl made her appearance. 
 
 "Show a light to this girl up-stairs, Ann." 
 
 "This girl —here?" 
 
 "Yes—that girl there."
 
 FIGURES IX OUTLINE. 47 
 
 ^' Oh ! lawks — so youve turned up agin." 
 
 Mattie did not answer— she seemed very weak 
 and ill, and not inclined to waste words foreign to 
 her motive in appearing there. She followed the 
 servant up~stairs, pausing on the first landing to 
 take breath. 
 
 " What's the matter with you— ain't you well f 
 asked the servant-maid. 
 
 " No, I ain't— I'm just the tother thing." 
 
 "BeeniUr 
 
 '' Scarlet fever— that's all.'" 
 
 *' Oh ! lor a mussy on us I — ^keep further off ! 1 
 can't bide fevers. We shall all be as red as lobsters 
 in the morning," 
 
 "It ain't catching now— Mother Watts didn't 
 catch it — I wish she had !" 
 
 " Will you go up-stairs now ?" 
 
 " Let's get a breath — I ain't so strong as I used 
 to be — now then." 
 
 Up the next flight, to the door of the first-floor 
 front, where Sidney Hinchf ord, pale with suspense, 
 was standing. 
 
 " Have you got it ? — have you got itj Mattie 1"
 
 48 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 " No— I ain't got nothin'." . 
 
 " 'Cept a fever, Master Sidney — tell your father 
 to look out." 
 
 A tliin, large-veined hand protruded from the 
 door, and dragged Master Hinchford suddenly 
 backwards into the room ; a tall, military-looking 
 old gentleman, with white hair and white mous- 
 tache, the instant afterwards occupied the place, 
 and looked down sternly at the small in- 
 truder. 
 
 '^ K^ep where you are — I didn't know you had a 
 fever, girl. Ann Packet, put the light on the 
 bracket. That Avill do." 
 
 Ann Packet set the chamber candlestick on a 
 little bracket outside the drawing-room, drew her 
 clothes tightly round her limbs, and keeping close 
 to the wall, scuttled past the girl, whom fever had 
 sorely stricken lately. Mattie dropped on to the 
 stairs, placed her elbows on her knees, took her chin 
 between her claw-like hands, and stared up at Mr. 
 Hinchford. 
 
 " I don't think you can catch anythin' from me, 
 guv'nor."
 
 riGUEES IN OUTLINE. 49 
 
 Governor looked down at Mattle, and reddened 
 a little. 
 
 '^ I'm not afraid of fever — it's only the bov I'm 
 thinkincr about. Sidney," he called. 
 
 " Yes, pa." 
 
 " You can hear, if I leave the door open. Now, 
 girl," addressing the diminutive figure on the stairs, 
 " if you haven't brought the brooch, what was the 
 good of coming here f 
 
 '' To let you know I tried — that's all. I thought 
 that all you might think that I'd stuck to ii, you 
 see. But I did try my hardest to get it back — be- 
 cause the young gent let me off w^hen the bobbies 
 would have walked me to quod. Lor bless y^ou, sir, 
 I'm not a reg'lar !" 
 
 "A what?" 
 
 " A reg'lar thief, sir. They've been trying hard 
 to make me — Mother Watts and old Simes, and 
 the rest — but it don't do. I was locked up once 
 afore mother died, and mother w^as sorry — awful 
 sorry, for he?' — you should have just heard her go 
 on, when I come out agin. Oh ! no, I'm not a 
 reg'lar — ^I sings about the street for ha'pence, and 
 VOL. I. E
 
 50 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 goes to fairs, and begs — and so on, but I don't take 
 things werry often. I'm a stray, sir !" 
 
 "Ah ! — God help 3'ou !" murmured the old gen- 
 tleman. 
 
 " I never had no father — and mother's dead now. 
 I'm 'bliged to shift for myself. And oh ! I just 
 was hard up when I tooked the brooch." 
 
 " And what became of it ?" 
 
 " Old Simes stuck to it, sir. I went to him on 
 the werry night after I had seen Master Hinchf ord, 
 and he said he'd sold it for tenpence, but he'd try 
 and get it back for me, which he never did, sir — 
 never." 
 
 " No — I suppose not," was the dry response. 
 
 " And the next day I caught the fever, and got 
 in the workus, somehow ; and when I came back 
 to Kent Street, last w^eek that was, old Simes had 
 seen nothin' more of the brooch, and Mother Watts 
 had forgot all about it — so she said !" was the dis- 
 paraging comment. 
 
 " And you came hither to tell us all this f 
 
 " Yes — I thought you'd like to know I did try.
 
 FIGURES IN OUTLINE. 51 
 
 and that they were too deep for me. My eye ! 
 they just are deep, those two !" 
 
 " Why didn't you stay in the workhouse ?" 
 
 " Can't bide the workus, sir — they drop upon 
 you too much. It's the wust place going, sir, and 
 no one takes to it." 
 
 " You're an odd girl." 
 
 Mr. Hinchford leaned his back against the door- 
 post, and surveyed the ragged and forlorn girl on 
 the lower stair. He was perplexed with this child, 
 and her wistful eyes — keen and glittering as steel 
 — made him feel uncomfortable. Here was a 
 mystery — a something unaccountable, and he could 
 not probe to its depths, or tell which was false 
 and which was genuine in the character of this 
 motherless girl before him. He had prided himself 
 all his life in being a judge of character — a man 
 of observation, who saw the flaw in the diamond — 
 the real face behind the paint, A^arnish, and paste- 
 board. He had judged his own brother in times past 
 — he had mixed much with the world, and gleaned 
 much from hard experience thereof, and yet a 
 child like this disturbed him. He fancied that he 
 
 E 2 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 ILLINOIS LIBRARyi
 
 52 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 could read a struggle for something better and more 
 pure in Mattie's life, and that Fate was against her 
 and drawincr her back to the shadows from which 
 she, as if by a noble instinct, was endeavoui'ing to 
 emerge. 
 
 He felt curious concerning her. 
 
 "What do you intend to do now?" 
 
 " Lor, sir, I don't know. It depends upon what 
 turns up." 
 
 " You will not thieve any more f 
 
 " Not if I can help it — but if I can't help it, sir, 
 I must go to school at Simes's. He teaches lots of 
 gals to get a living !" 
 
 Mr. Hinchf ord shuddered. There was a pause, 
 during which the head of Master Hinchf ord peered 
 through the door to note how affairs were progress- 
 ing. The father detected the movement, and when 
 the head was hastily withdrawn, he drew the door 
 still closer, and retained a grip of the handle for 
 precaution's sake. 
 
 " You don't know what your next step will be ? 
 You'll try to live honestly, you say ?" 
 
 " I'll try the ingun dodge. You get's through a
 
 FIGURES IN OUTLIXE. 53 
 
 heap of inguns at a ha'penny a lot, if the perlice 
 will ony let you be." 
 
 " And your stock in trade ?" 
 
 " What's that f ' 
 
 " How will YOU besin ? Where are the onions 
 to come from ?" 
 
 " I shall sing for them to-morrow — my woice is 
 comin' round a bit, Mother Watts says." 
 
 Mr. Hinchford pulled at his long white mous- 
 tache — the girl's confidence and coolness induced 
 him to linger there — something in his own heart 
 led him to continue the conversation. He was 
 a philosopher, a student of human nature, and 
 this was a singular specimen before him. 
 
 " What could you live and keep honest upon ?" 
 
 " Tuppence a day in summer — fourpence in 
 winter. Summer a gal can sleep anywhere — there's 
 some prime places in the Borough Market, and 
 lots o' railway arches, Dockhead way ; but it nips 
 you awful hard when the frost's on." 
 
 " Well — here's sixpence to set up in business 
 with, Mattie — and as long as you can show me an 
 honest front, and can come here every Saturday
 
 54 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 night and say, ' I've been honest all the week,' why, 
 I'll stand the same amount." 
 
 [Mattie's eyes sparkled at this rise in Kfe. 
 
 " I'll borrow a basket, and buy some inguns to- 
 morrow. P'raps 2/ou buy inguns sometimes, and 
 old — Mr. Wesden downstairs, too. Yes, sir, it's 
 the connexion that budges one up !" she said, with 
 the gravity of an old woman. 
 
 " I see. I'll speak to Mr. Wesden about his 
 custom, Mattie. You can go now." 
 
 " Thankee, sir." 
 
 She rose to her feet, went a few steps downstairs, 
 paused, and looked back. 
 
 " What is it, Mattie r 
 
 ^* I hope the young gen'leman isn't a fretting 
 much about his broachJ^ 
 
 " Here, young gentleman/' called the father, " do 
 you hear that ?" 
 
 Master Hinchford laughed from within. 
 
 "Oh, no!— I don't fret." 
 
 " P'raps some day I shall have saved up enuf to 
 pay him back. That's a rum idea, isn't it, sir ?" 
 
 " Not a bad one, Mattie. Think it over."
 
 FIGURES IN OUTLINE. 55 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 Mattie departed, and Mr. Hinchford returned to 
 the sitting-room. Master Hinchford, buried in 
 books, was sitting at the centre table. 
 
 " Are you going at figures to-night f ' 
 
 " Just for a little while, I think." 
 
 " You'll ruin your eyes — I've said so fifty times." 
 
 " Better have weak eyes than weak brains, sir." 
 
 " Not the general idea, lad." 
 
 After a while, and when Master Hinchford was 
 scratching away with his pen, the father said — 
 
 " You don't say anything about Mattie." 
 
 " I think it was very kind of you," said the youth ; 
 " and I think — somehow — that Mattie will be 
 grateful." 
 
 "Pooh! pooh!" remarked the father, "j^ou'll 
 never make a first-rate city man, if you believe in 
 gratitude. Look at the world sternly, boy. Put 
 not your trust in anything turning out the real and 
 genuine article — work everything by figures." 
 
 Master Hinchford looked at his sire, as though 
 he scarcely understood him. 
 
 " I must bring you up to understand human na-
 
 56 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 ture, Sid — what a bad article it is — plated with a ma- 
 terial that soon wears off, if rubbed smartly. Human 
 nature is everywhere the same, and if you be only 
 on your guard, you may take advantage of it, instead 
 of letting it take advantage of you. Now, this girl 
 is a specimen, which, at my own expense, we will 
 experimentalize upon. In that stray, my boy, you 
 shall see the natural baseness of mankind — or girl- 
 kind." 
 
 " Don't you think that she'll come again ?" 
 
 " For the sixpence, to be sure ! Every Saturday 
 night, with a long story of how honest she has been 
 all the week. Here we shall see a girl, who, by her 
 own statement, and with a struggle, can keep honest 
 now — note the effect of indiscriminate alms-giving." 
 
 " Of rewarding a girl for stealing my brooch, 
 pa." 
 
 " Ah ! — exactly. Some people who didn't under- 
 stand me, would set me dow^n for a weak-minded 
 old fool. In studying human nature, one must act 
 oddly with odd specimens. And this girl — who 
 came to tell us she had not brought the brooch back 
 — I am just a little — curious — concerning !"
 
 FIGURES IX OUTLINE. 57 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 SET UP IN BUSINESS. 
 
 I AM afraid that the reader will be very piuch dis- 
 gusted with us as story-tellers, when we inform him 
 that all these details are but preliminary to our 
 story proper — a kind of prologue in six chapters to 
 the comedy, melodrama or tragedy — which ? — that 
 the curtain will rise upon in our next book. Still 
 they are details, without which our characters, and 
 their true positions on our stage, would not have 
 been clearly defined ; and in the uphill struggles of 
 our stray, perhaps some student of human nature, 
 like Mr. Hinchford, may take some little interest. 
 
 For they were real uphill struggles to better her- 
 self, and, therefore, worthy of notice. Remarking 
 them, and knowing their genuineness, it has struck 
 us that even from these crude materials a kind of
 
 58 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 heroine might be fashioned — not the heroine of a 
 high-class book — that is, a " book for the Boudoir" 
 — ^but of a book that will at least attempt to draw 
 a certain phase of life as plainly as it passed the 
 writer's eyes once. 
 
 Let us, ere we begi?! our story, then, speak of this 
 Mattie a little more — this girl, who was not a 
 "reg'lar" — who had never been brought up to 
 " the profession" — who was merely a Stray ! Let 
 us even watch her in her new vocation — set up in 
 life with ]Mr. Hinchford's sixpence — and note by 
 what strange accident it changed the tenor of her 
 life ; and at least set her above the angry dash of 
 those waves which, day after day, engulph so many. 
 
 All that we know of Mattie, all that Mattie 
 knew of herself, the reader is fully acquainted 
 with, flattie's mother, a beggar, a tramp, occa- 
 sionally a thief, died in a low lodging-house, and, 
 with some flash of the better instincts at the last, 
 begged her child to keep good, if she could. And 
 the girl, by nature impressionable, only by the force 
 of circumstance callous and cunning, tried to sub- 
 sist on the streets without filching her neighbours'
 
 FIGUKES IN OUTLINE. 59 
 
 goods — wavered in her best intentions, as well she 
 might, when the world ^vas extra vigorous with 
 her — ^grew more worldly with the world's hardness, 
 and stole now and then for bread, when there was 
 no bread offered her ; made friends with young 
 thieves — "reg'lars" — of both sexes ; constituted 
 them her playmates, and rehearsed with them little 
 dramas of successful peculation; fell into bad 
 hands — receivers of stolen goods, and o\^^lers of 
 dens where thieves nightly congregated ; regarded 
 the police as natural enemies, the streets as home, 
 and those w^ho filled them as men and women to be 
 imposed upon, to be whined out of money by a 
 beggar's plaint, amused out of it by a song in a 
 shrill falsetto, tricked out of it by a quick hand in 
 the depths of their pockets. Still Mattie never 
 became a " reg'lar ;" she earned money enough " to 
 keep life in her " — she had become inui'ed to the 
 streets, and had a fear, a very uncommon one in 
 girls of her age and mode of living, of the police- 
 station and the magistrate. Possibly her voice 
 saved her ; she had sung duets with her mother 
 before death had stepped between them, and she
 
 60 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 sold ballads on her own account when the world 
 was all before her w^here to choose. She was a 
 girl, too, whom a little contented ; one who could 
 live on a little, and make shift — terrible shift — 
 when luck run against her; above all, her tempters, 
 the Watts, Simes', and others, festering amongst 
 the Kent Street courts, were cruel and hard with 
 her, and she kept out of their way so long as it 
 was possible. 
 
 Given the same monotony of existence for a few 
 more years, and Mattie would have become a tramp 
 perhaps, oscillating from fair to fair, race- course to 
 race-course, losing true feeling, modesty, heart and 
 soul, at every step. She had already tried the fairs 
 within ten miles — the races at Hampton and 
 Epsom, &c., and had earned money at them — she 
 was seeing her way to business next summer, at the 
 time she was interested in one particular house in 
 Great Suffolk Street, Borough. 
 
 Mattie was fond of pictures, and therefore 
 partial to Mr. Wesden's shop, where the cheap 
 periodicals and tinsel portraits of celebrated stage- 
 ranters, in impossible positions, were displayed
 
 FIGURES IN OUTLINE. 61 
 
 — fond, too, of watching Mr. Wesden's daughter 
 in her perambulations backwards and forwards to 
 a day-school in Trinity Street, and critically sur- 
 veying her bright dresses, her neat shoes and 
 boots, her hats for week days, and drawn bonnets 
 for Sundays, with a far-off longing, such as a des- 
 titute child entertains for one in a comfortable 
 position — such a feeling as we envious children 
 of a larger growth may experience when our big 
 friends flaunt their wealth in our eves, and talk 
 of their hounds, their horses, and their princely 
 estates. 
 
 " Oh! to be only Harriet Wesden," was Mattie's 
 secret wish — to dress like her, look like her, be 
 followed by a mother's anxious eyes down the 
 street ; to have a father to see her safely across 
 the broad thoroughfare lying between Great Suf- 
 folk Street and school; to go to school, and be 
 taught to read and write and grow up good — what 
 happiness, unattainable and intangible to dream of ! 
 
 Eugene Sue, I think, tried to show the bright 
 side of Envy, and the good it might effect ; and I 
 suppose there are many species of En\y, or else
 
 H2 MATTIE : A STKAY. 
 
 that we do not call things invariably by their right 
 names. Mattie at least envied the stationer's daugh- 
 ter ; Miss Wesden was a princess to her, and lived 
 in fairy-land ; and in seeing how happy she was, 
 and what good spirits she had, Mattie's own life 
 seemed dark enough ; but that other life which Mat- 
 tie tried to keep aloof from, denser and viler still. 
 Harriet Wesden was the heroine of her story, and 
 in a far-off distant way — never guessed at by its 
 object — Harriet Wesden was loved, especially after 
 she had begun to notice Mattie's attention to the 
 pictures in the window, and to change them for 
 her sole edification more often than was absolutely 
 necessary. 
 
 Mattie was well known in Great Suffolk 
 Street ; they knew her at Wesden' s — nearly every 
 shopkeeper knew her, and exchanged a word or 
 two with her occasionally — Great Suffolk Street 
 was her heat. In health Mattie was a good-tem- 
 pered, sharp-witted girl — bearing the ills of her life 
 with composure — selling lucifers and singing for 
 a living. 
 
 They trusted her in Great Suffolk Street ; the
 
 FIGURES IN OUTLINE. 63 
 
 poor folk living at the back thereof bought lucif ers 
 of her of a Saturday night, and asked how she was 
 getting on — the boys guarding their masters' shop- 
 boards nodded in a patronizing way at her — now 
 and then, a plate of broken victuals was tendered 
 her from some well-to-do shopkeeper, who could 
 afford to part with it, and not miss it either — bef oi'e 
 her fever, she had had a little " c'nexion," and she 
 set to work to get it up again, when the Hinch- 
 ford sixpence heaped her basket with onions. 
 
 That was the turning-point of Mattie's life ; 
 after that, a little woman with an eye to business ; a 
 small female costermonger with a large basket 
 before her suspended by a strap — troubled and kept 
 moving on by policemen — but earning her fair 
 modicum of profit; quick with her eyes, ready with 
 her answers, happy as a queen whose business was 
 brisk, and lodging away from Mother Watts and 
 old Simes, whose acquaintance she had quietly 
 dropped. 
 
 Mattie still watched Harriet Wesden from a dis- 
 tance ; still felt the same strange interest in that 
 girl, one year her senior, growing up so pretty
 
 64 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 whilst she hecame so plain and weather-beaten ; ex- 
 periencing still the same attraction for that house 
 in particular ; knowing each of its inmates by heart, 
 and feeling, since the brooch defalcation, a part 
 of the historv attached to the establishment. 
 When the Wesdens made up their minds to send 
 Harriet to boarding-school, by way of a finish to 
 her education, Mattie learned the news, and was 
 there to see the cab drive off ; Mattie even told 
 Ann Packet, servant to the Wesdens, and regular 
 purchaser of Mattie's ^^ green stuff," that she 
 should miss her werry much, and Suffolk Street 
 wouldn't be half Suffolk Street after she was gone 
 — which observation being reported to Mrs. Wes- 
 den, directed more attention to the stray from that 
 quarter, and made one more friend at least. 
 
 One more — for Mattie had found a friend in the 
 tall, stiff -backed, stem-looking old gentleman of the 
 name of Hinchf ord. The lodger's philosophy had all 
 gone wrong ; his knowledge of human nature had 
 been at fault; his prophecies concerning Mat- 
 tie's ingratitude had proved fallacious, and her 
 steady application to business had greatly interested
 
 FIGURES IX OUTLINE. 65 
 
 him. He was a sterling character, this old gentle- 
 man, for he confessed that he had been wrong ; and 
 he now held forth Mattie's industry as an example 
 of perseverance in the world to his son, just as in 
 the past he had intended her as a striking proof of 
 the world's ingratitude. 
 
 The climax was reached two years after his dia- 
 logue with Mattie on the stairs — when ]Mattie was 
 thirteen years of age, and Master Hinchf ord sixteen 
 — when Mattie still hawked goods in Suffolk Street 
 — quite a woman of the world, and deeply versed 
 in market prices — one who had not even at that 
 time attained to the dignity of shoes and stockings. 
 
 Mr. Wesden, the quiet man of business, was in 
 his shop as usual, when Mattie walked in, basket 
 and all. 
 
 Mr. Wesden regarded her gravely, and shook 
 his head. Onions and some sweet herbs had been 
 speculated in that morning, and no further articles 
 were required at that establishment. 
 
 " If you please, I don't want you to buy, Mr. 
 Wesden — " said she, " but will you be good enough 
 to send that up to Master Hinchf ord ?" 
 
 YOL. I. F
 
 66 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 Mr. Wesden looked at the small, dirty piece of 
 paper in which something was wrapped, and then 
 at Mattie. 
 
 " It's honestly come by, sir," said Mattie. 
 " I never said it wasn't," he responded, 
 flattie retired into the street — it was a Saturday 
 night, and there were many customers abroad — she 
 was doing a flourishing trade, when a tall youth 
 caught her by the arm, and dragged her round the 
 corner of the first street. 
 
 '^ Oh ! don't pinch my arm so. Master Hinch- 
 ford." 
 
 " What's the twelve and sixpence for, Mattie — 
 
 not for the — not for the " 
 
 " Yes, the broach ! I've been a-saving up, and 
 keeping myself down for it, and now it's easy on 
 my mind." 
 
 '- 1 won't have it. I've been thinking about it, 
 and I won't have it, Mattie." 
 
 " Please do. I've been trying so hard to wipe 
 that off. I'm quite well now. I've got the c'nexiou 
 all right, and shall save it all up agin, and the 
 winter's arf over, and when Miss Wesden comes
 
 FIGUKES IN OUTLINE. 67 
 
 back, you can buy her another brooch with it, and 
 nobody disapinted." 
 
 The youth laughed, and coloured, and shook his 
 head. 
 
 " I won't take twelve and sixpence from you, I 
 tell you. Why, Mattie, you don't know the value 
 of money, or you'd never fling it away like this. 
 Wliy, it's a fortune to you." 
 
 " No — it's been a weight — that twelve and six, 
 somehow. I've been a thief until to-night — now 
 it's wiped clean. Don't try to make me a thief 
 agin by giving it on me back. Oh ! don't please 
 stop my trade like this ! " 
 
 " Well, I shall make you out in time, Mattie — 
 perhaps r 
 
 Master Hinchford pocketed the money, and 
 %valked away slowly. Mattie returned to her 
 "c'nexion." ^ir. Hinchford sat and philosophized 
 to himself all the evening on the impracticability of 
 arriving at a thorough understanding of human 
 nature, as exemplified in '^ girl-kind." 
 
 f2
 
 68 MATTIE : A STKAY. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE END OF THE PROLOGUE. 
 
 Hard times set in after that night. The winter 
 was half over, Mattie had said ; but the worst half 
 was yet to come, and for that she, with many 
 thousands like her, had made but little prepara- 
 tion. The worst half of the frost of that year set 
 in like a blight upon the London streets, froze the 
 gutters, raised the price of coals, sent provisions up 
 tQ^amine figures, cut off all the garden stuff, and 
 threw such fugitive traders as Mattie completely 
 out of w^ork. Hers became a calling that required 
 capital now; even the greengrocers' shops. Borough 
 way, were scantily stocked — the market itself was 
 not what it used to be when things were flourishing, 
 and oh ! the prices that were asked in those times ! 
 Poverty of an ill aspect set in soon after the
 
 FIGURES IN OrXLIXE. 69 
 
 frost ; crime set in soon after poverty — when tlie 
 workhouses are besieged by hungry claimants for 
 relief, the prisons are always extra full. Suffolk 
 Street, the streets branching thitherwards to 
 South wark Bridge, the narrow lanes and turnings 
 round the Queen's Bench, in the Borough Road 
 and verging tow^ards Union Street, were all haunted 
 by those phantoms that had set in with the frost — 
 there was danger in the streets as well as famine, 
 and money was hard to earn, and hold when earned ! 
 Small shopkeepers with large families closed their 
 shutters and locked themselves in with desolation ; 
 men out of work grew desperate — the streets were 
 empty of the basket women and costermongers, 
 and swarming in heu thereof with beggars and 
 thieves ; even the police, nipped at the heart by the 
 frost, were harder on society that stopped the 
 way, and had little mercy even on old faces. Mat- 
 tie's was an old face which stopped the way at that 
 time — Mattie, basketless and onionless, and trying 
 lucifers again, and essapng on Saturday nights 
 — when workmen's w^ages w^ere paid — a song or 
 two opposite the public-houses.
 
 70 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 In this old fashion, Mattie earned a few pence 
 at times ; she was small for her age — very small — 
 and the anxious-looking face touched those who had 
 odd coppers to spare. But it was a task to live 
 notwithstanding, and Mattie fought hard with the 
 rest of the waifs and strays who had a tough battle 
 to wage that winter time. " Luck went dead 
 against her," as she termed it; she was barred from 
 the market by want of capital — one lot of goods 
 that she had speculated in never went off her 
 hands, or rather her basket, on which they 
 -withered more and more with the frost, until they 
 became unsaleable products — and there was no 
 demand for lucif ers or anything ! 
 
 Mattie was nearly starving when the old tempter 
 turned up in Great Suffolk Street — at the time 
 when she w^as weak, and the police had been more 
 than commonly " down on her," and she had not 
 taken a halfpenny that day —at a time when the 
 tempter does turn up as a general rule, that is, when 
 we are waiting very anxiously for an Excuse. 
 
 "What ! Mattie!— Lor! the sight o' time since I 
 set eyes on you ! "
 
 FIGURES IN OUTLINE. 71 
 
 "What! ^Irs. Watts!" 
 
 " What are you doing, girl? — not much for jour- 
 self, I should think," with a disparaging glance at 
 the tattered habiliments of our heroine. 
 
 ^' Not much just now, Mrs. Watts — hard lines 
 it is." 
 
 " Ah! w^ell, it may be — you alius wanted pluck, 
 Mattie, like your mother. And hard lines it is 
 just now, for those who stand nice about trifles. 
 What's that in your hand, gal?" 
 
 " Congreve lights." 
 
 " What ! still at Congreve lights — if I shouldn't 
 hate the werry sight and smell on 'em by this time." 
 
 " So I do," said Mattie, sullenly. 
 
 " Come home with me, and let's have a bit 
 o' talk together, Mattie — there's a friend or two 
 o' your age a-coming to have a little talk with me 
 to-night." 
 
 " Don't you keep a lodging house now?" 
 
 " No — a little shop for bones and bottles and 
 such things ; and we has a party in the back 
 parler twice a week, and something nice and hot 
 for supper,"
 
 72 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 " A school — on your own hook ?" said Mattie, 
 quickly. 
 
 " Oh ! how sharp w^e gets as we grows up ! — but 
 you alius was as sharp as any needle, and I w^as 
 only saying to Simes but yesterday, if I could just 
 drop on little Mattie, she'd be the werry gal to do 
 us credit — she would." 
 
 "I've been shifting for myself these last tw^o 
 years and odd, and I got on tidy till the frost set in, 
 and now it's — all upT 
 
 " Ah! — all up — precisely so." 
 
 Mrs. Watts did not detect the tragic element in 
 Mattie's peroration ; she had sallied forth in search 
 of her, and had found her in the streets ragged 
 and penniless and hungry. It was worth while to 
 speculate in Mattie now^ — to show her some degree 
 of kindness — to lure her back to the old haunts, 
 and something worse than the old Hfe. She began 
 her temptations, and Mattie listened and trembled 
 — the night was cold, and she had not tasted food 
 that day. ^Ii's. Watts kept her hand upon the girl, 
 and expatiated upon the advantages she had to offer 
 now — even attempted to draw Mattie along with her.
 
 FIGURES IN OUTLINE. 73 
 
 " Wait a bit — don't be in a huny," said Mattie ; 
 " I'll come presently p'raps — not just now." 
 
 '' Oil! I'm not so sweet on you," said Mrs. 
 Watts, aggrieved; "come if you like — stop away 
 if you like — it's all one to me. I'll go about my 
 rump-steaks for supper, and you can stay here and 
 starve, if you prefer it." 
 
 This dialogue occurred only a short distance 
 from Mr. Wesden's shop, when ^Ir. Wesden was 
 putting up the shutters in his own quiet way, with 
 very little noise, his boy having left him at a 
 moment's notice. Mrs. Wesden, who had her fears 
 for his back — ^Ir. W. had had a sensitive back for 
 years — was dragging the shutters out from under 
 the shop-board — thin slips of wood, that required 
 not any degree of strength to manage. There were 
 six shutters — at the third ^ir. Wesden said — 
 
 "There's Mattie." 
 
 " Ah ! poor girl !'' 
 
 At the fifth he added— 
 
 " With an old woman that I don't like the style 
 of very much." 
 
 'Mxs, Wesden went to the door, and looked down
 
 74 MATTIE : A STKAY. 
 
 the street at the tempter and the tempted — Mattie 
 was under the lamp, and the face was a troubled 
 one, on which the gas jet flickered. When the 
 sixth shutter was up, and the iron band that secured 
 them all firmly screwed into the doorpost, the 
 quiet couple stood side by side and watched the 
 conflict to its abrupt conclusion. Both guessed 
 what the subject had been — there was something 
 of the night-bird and the gaol-bird about Mrs. 
 Watts, that was easy of detection. 
 
 Mrs. Wesden touched her husband's arm. 
 
 "Danger, John." 
 
 "Ah!" 
 
 " And that girl has been a-going on so quietly 
 for years, and getting her own living, and she 
 without a father and a mother to care for her — not 
 like our Harriet." 
 
 "No." 
 
 " And the way she brought back the money for 
 that brooch." 
 
 " Yes — that was funny." 
 
 " I don't see the fun of it, John." 
 
 " That was good of her."
 
 FIGURES IN OUTLINE. 75 
 
 " Do you know, I've been thinking, John, we 
 might find room for her — those boys are a great 
 trouble to us, and if we had a gii'l, it might answer 
 better to take the papers out, and she might sen-e 
 in the shop/' 
 
 " Serve in my shop — good Lord !" 
 
 " Some day when we could trust her, I mean — 
 and she could sleep with Ann ; and I daresay she 
 -would come for her keep in these times. And 
 we mio"ht be savin cr her — God knows from 
 what I" 
 
 " ]Mrs. Wesden, vou're as full of fancies as ever 
 you can stick." 
 
 "I've a fancy to help her in these hard times, 
 John ; and when helping her won't ruin us — 
 us who have put by now a matter of three 
 thou " 
 
 "Hush!" 
 
 " And when helping her won't ruin us, but get 
 rid of those plagues of boys, John. Fancy our 
 Harriet in the streets like that !" 
 
 She pointed to Mattie standing alone there, still 
 under the gas lamp, deep in thought. ^Ir. Wesden
 
 76 MATTIE : A STKAY. 
 
 looked, but his lined face was expressive of little 
 sympathy, his wife thought. 
 
 *• We're hard pushed for a boy — the bill's no 
 sooner down than up again — try a girl, John ! " 
 
 " If you'll get in out of the cold, Mrs. W., I'll 
 think of it." 
 
 Mrs. Wesden retired, and ^Ir. Wesden kept his 
 place by the open door, and his quiet eyes on 
 Mattie. He was a man who did nothing in a 
 hurry, and whose actions were ruled by grave de- 
 liberation. He did not confess to his wife that of 
 late years he had been interested in Mattie; watched 
 her from under his papers in the shop-window ; 
 saw her business-like habits, her method, her brisk- 
 ness over her scanty wares, her cleverness even in 
 dodging her hete noire the policeman. He was a 
 man, moreover, who went to church and read his 
 Bible, and had many good thoughts beneath his 
 occasional brusqueness and invariable immobility. 
 A very quiet man, a man more than ordinarily 
 cautious, hard to please, and still harder to rouse. 
 
 In shutting up his shop that night, he had 
 caught one or two fragments of the dialogue, and
 
 FIGUEES IX OUTLIXE. 77 
 
 he knew more certainly than his wife that Mattie 
 was being tempted back to the old life. Of that 
 life he knew ever}'thing ; he had learned it piece 
 by piece without affecting to take an interest in the 
 matter ; he even knew that Mattie had long taken 
 a fancy — an odd fancy — to his daughter, that she 
 often inquired about her, and her boarding-school, 
 of Ann Packet, domestic to the house of Wesden. 
 
 He thought of flattie's temptation, then of 
 Mrs. Wesden's extraordinary suo^frestion. He was 
 a lord of creation, and if he had a weakness it was 
 in pooh-poohing the suggestions of his helpmate, 
 although he adopted them in nine cases out of ten, 
 disguising them, as he thought, by some little vari- 
 ation, and bringing them forward in due course 
 as original productions of his own teeming brain. 
 
 And boys had worried him for years — lost his 
 numbers, been behind-hand with the Times to his 
 best customers, insulted those customers when re- 
 primanded, and set the blame of delay at his door, 
 played and fought with other boys before his very 
 shop-front, broken his windows in putting up the 
 shutters, had even paid visits to his till, and sur-
 
 78 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 reptitiously made off with stock, and had never in 
 his memory of boys — industrious or otherwise — 
 possessed one civil, clean-faced, decent youth. 
 
 " Suppose I had Mattie on trial for a week," he 
 said at last, and looked towards the lamp-post. 
 Mattie was gone — a black shadow, exactly like her, 
 was hurrying away down the street towards the 
 Borough — running almost, and with her hands to 
 her head, as though a crowd of thoughts was 
 stunning her ! 
 
 Mr. Wesden never accounted for leaving his 
 shop-door open without warning his wufe — for 
 running at his utmost speed after the girl. 
 
 At the corner of Great Suffolk Street he over- 
 took her. 
 
 " Where are you going ? — what are you running 
 for ?" he asked, indignantly. 
 
 Mattie started, looked at him, recognized him. 
 
 "Nothin — partic'ler — is anythink the matter?" 
 
 " How — how — should you — like — to be — a 72eivs 
 hoy ?" he panted. 
 
 No circumlocution in Mr. Wesden — straight to 
 the point as an arrow.
 
 FIGURES IX OUTLINE. 79 
 
 *' Yours ! — you wouldn't trust me — you never 
 gives trust." 
 
 " I've — I've thought of trying you." 
 
 "Youf she said again. 
 
 " Yes— m^." 
 
 " Well, I'd do anythink to get an honest living 
 — but I was giving up the thoughts o' it — it's so 
 hard for the likes of us^ master." 
 
 '^ Come back, and Til tell you what I've been 
 thinking about, Mattie." 
 
 Not a word about what ^Irs. Wesden had been 
 thinking about — such is man's selfishness and 
 narrow-mmdedness. 
 
 Mattie went back^for good ! 
 
 On this prologue to our stoiy we can afford to 
 di'op the curtain, lea\dng our figures in outHne, and 
 waiting a better time to paint our characters — such 
 as they are — more fully. We need not dwell upon 
 Mattie's trial, upon Mattie's change of costume, and 
 initiation into an old frock and boots of the absent 
 Harriet — of the many accidents of fife at Wesden, 
 stationer's, accidents which led to the wanderer's
 
 80 MATTIE : A STRA.Y. 
 
 settling down, a member of the household, an item 
 in that household expenditure. Let the time roll 
 on a year or two, during which Mr. Wesden's back 
 grew worse, and Mrs. Wesden's hair more grey, 
 and let the changes that have happened to our 
 friends speak for themselves in the story we have 
 set ourselves to write. 
 
 Leave we, then, the Stray on the threshold of 
 her new estate, standing in Harriet Wesden's dress, 
 thinking of her future ; the shadow-land from 
 which she has emerged behind her, and new scenes, 
 new characters beyond there — beneath the briglit 
 skv, where all looks so radiant from the distance. 
 
 END OF THE FIRST BOOK,
 
 BOOK II 
 
 THE NEW ESTATE. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 THE NEW ESTATE. 83 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 HOME FOR GOOD. 
 
 Three years make but little difference in the 
 general aspect of a poor neighbourhood. The same 
 shops doing their scanty business ; the same loiter- 
 ers at street corners ; the same watch from hungi;>' 
 eyes upon the loaves and fishes behind the window- 
 glass ; the same slip-shod men, women and children 
 hustling one another on the pavement, in all 
 weathers, " doing their bit of marketing;" the same 
 dogs sniffing about the streets, and prowling round 
 the butchers' shops. 
 
 An observer might detect many changes in the 
 names over the shop fronts, certainly. Business 
 goes wrong with a great many in three years — 
 capital is small to work with in most instances, and 
 when the rainy day comes, in due course, by the 
 
 G 2
 
 84 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 stern rule by which rainy days are governed, the 
 resistance is feeble, and the weakest put the 
 shutters up, sell off at an alarming sacrifice, and 
 go, with wives and children, still further on the 
 downhill road. There are seizures for rent, writs 
 issued on delinquents, stern authority cutting off 
 the gas and water, sterner authorities interfering 
 with the weights and measurers, which, in poor 
 neighbourhoods, ivill get light occasionally; brokers' 
 men making their quarterly raids, and still further 
 perplexing those to whom life is a struggle, despe- 
 rate and intense. 
 
 Amidst the changes in Great Suffolk Street, one 
 business remains firm, and presents ' its wonted 
 aspect. Over the little stationer's shop, the old 
 established emporium for everything in a small 
 way, is still inscribed the name of Wesden — has 
 been repainted the name of Wesden in white 
 letters, on a chocolate ground, as though there were 
 nothing in the cares of business to daunt the 
 tradesman who began life there, young and bloom- 
 ing! 
 
 There are changes amongst the papers in the
 
 THE NEW ESTATE. 80 
 
 wincloAvs — the sensation penn^^vorths — the pious 
 pennyworths — the pennyworths started for the 
 ameKoration and mental improvement of the work- 
 ing classes, unfortunate pennyworths, that never 
 get on, and which the working classes turn their 
 backs upon, hating a moral in every other line as 
 naturally as we do. The stock of volumes in the 
 library is on the increase ; the window, counter, shelves 
 and drawers, are all well filled ; ^Ir. Wesden deals 
 in postage and receipt stamps — ever a good sign of 
 capital to spare — and has turned the wash-house 
 into a warehouse, where reams of paper, envelopes, 
 and goods too numerous to mention, are biding 
 their time to see dajdight in Great Suffolk Street. 
 
 Changes are more apparent in tlie back-parlour, 
 which has been home to Mr. and ^Irs. Wesden for 
 so many years. Let us look in upon them after three 
 years' absence, and to the best of our ability note 
 tlie alteration there. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Wesden are seated one on eacli 
 side of tlie fire — Mr. Wesden in a new arm-chair, 
 bought of an upholsterer in the Borough, an easy 
 and capacious chair, with spring seats and sides,
 
 86 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 and altogether a luxury for that establishment. 
 Mrs. Wesden has become very feeble and rickety ; 
 rheumatic fever — that last year's hard trial, in 
 which she was given over, and the quiet man col- 
 lapsed into a nervous child for the nonce — has left 
 its traces, and robbed her of much energy and 
 strength. She is a very old woman at sixty-three, 
 grey-haired and sallow, with two eyes that look at 
 you in an amiable, deer-like fashion — in a motherly 
 way that gives you an idea of what a kind woman 
 and good Christian she is. 
 
 Mr. Wesden, sitting opposite his worn better- 
 half, was originally constructed from much tougher 
 material. The lines are deeper in his face, the nose 
 is larger, the eyes more sunken, perhaps the lips more 
 thin, but there is business energy in him yet ; no 
 opportunity to earn money is let slip, and if it were 
 not for constant twinges in his back, he would be 
 as agile as in the old days when there were doubts 
 of getting on in life. 
 
 But who is this sitting with them, like one of the 
 family ? — a dark-haired, pale-faced girl of sixteen, 
 short of stature, neat of figure, certainly not pretty,
 
 THE NEW ESTATE. 87 
 
 decidedly not plain, with an everyday face, that 
 might be passed fifty times, without attracting an 
 observer ; and then, on the fifty-first, startle him by 
 its intense expression. A face older than its pos- 
 sessor's years ; at times a grave face, more often, 
 despite its pallor, a bright one — lit-up with the 
 cheerful thoughts, which a mind at ease naturally 
 gives to it. 
 
 Neatly, if humbly dressed — working with a ra- 
 pidity and regularity that would have done credit 
 to a stitching machine — evidently at home there in 
 that back-parlour, to which her dark wistful eyes 
 had been so often directed, in the old days ; this is 
 the Mattie of our prologue — the stray, diverted 
 from the dark course it was taking, by the hand of 
 John Wesden. 
 
 " Wesden, what's the time now ?" 
 
 " My dear, it's not five minutes since you asked 
 last," is the mild reproof of the husband, as he tugs 
 at his copper -gilt watch chain for a while ; " it's close 
 on ten o'clock." 
 
 " I hope nothing has happened to the train — " 
 
 " What should happen, !Mrs. Wesden ?" says a
 
 88 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 brisk, clear ringing voice; "just to-night of all 
 nights, when Miss Harriet is expected. Why, she 
 didn't give us hope of seeing her till nine ; and 
 trains are always behind-hand, I've heard — and it's 
 very early hours to get fidgety, isn't it, sir f 
 
 " Much too early." 
 
 " I haven't seen my dear girl for twelve months," 
 half moans the mother ; " she'll come back quite 
 a lady — she'll come back for good, Wesden, and be 
 our pride and joy for ever. Never apart from us 
 again." 
 
 "No, all to ourselves we shall have her after 
 this. Well," witli a strange half sigh, "we've done 
 our duty by her, llrs. W." 
 
 " T hope so." 
 
 " It's cost a heap of money — I don't regret a 
 ])enny of it." 
 
 " Why should you, Wesden, when it's made our 
 girl a lady — fit for any station in the world." 
 
 " But this perhaps," says Mr. Wesden, thought- 
 fully ; " and this can't matter, now we " 
 
 He does not finish the sentence, but takes his 
 pipe down from the mantel-piece, and proceeds to
 
 THE NEW ESTATE. 89 
 
 fill it in a mechanical fashion. Mrs. Wesden looks 
 at him quietly — her lord and husband never smokes 
 before supper, without his mind is disturbed — the 
 action reminds his wife that the supper hour is 
 drawing near, and that nothing is prepared for 
 Harriet's arrival. 
 
 "Shev.'ill come home tired and huncrry — oh! 
 dear me — and nothing ready, perhaps." 
 '' I'll help Ann directly," says Mattie. 
 The needle that has been plying all the time — 
 that did not cease when Mattie attempted consola- 
 tion — is stuck in the dress she is hemming ; the 
 work is rolled rapidty into a bundle ; the light 
 figure flits about the room, clears the table, 
 darts down-stairs into the kitchen ; presently ap- 
 pears with Ann Packet, maid-of- all-work, lays the 
 cloth, sets knives and forks and plates ; varies pro- 
 ceedings by attending to customers in the shop — 
 Mattie's task more often, now Mr. Wesden's back 
 has lost its flexibility — flits back again to the task of 
 preparing supper in the parlour. 
 
 With her work less upon her mind, Mattie 
 launches into small talk — her tongue rattles along
 
 90 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 witli a rapidity only equal to her needle. She is 
 in high spirits to-night, and talks more than usual, 
 or else that loquacity for which a !Mi's. Watts re- 
 buked her once, has known no diminution with 
 expanding years. 
 
 " We shall have her in a few more minutes, 
 mistress," she says, addressing the feeble old woman 
 in the chair ; " just as if she'd never been away 
 from us — ^bless her pretty face ! — and it was twelve 
 days, rather than twelve months, since we all said 
 good-bye to her. She left you on a sick bed, ^Irs. 
 Wesden, and she comes back to find you well and 
 strong again — to find home just as it should be — • 
 everything going on well, and everybody — oh ! so 
 happy!" 
 
 "And to find you, Mattie — what?" asks 'Mi. 
 Wesden, in his quiet way. 
 
 " To find me very happy, too — happy in having 
 improved in my scholarship, such as it is, sir — 
 happy with you two friends, to whom I owe — oh ! 
 more than I ever can think about, or be grateful 
 enough for," she adds with an impetuosity that
 
 THE NEW ESTATE. 91 
 
 leads her to rush at the quiet man and kiss him on 
 the forehead. 
 
 " We're square, flattie — we're perfectly square 
 now," he replies, settling his silver-rimmed specta- 
 cles more secm'ely on his nose. 
 
 " Oh ! that is very likely," is the sharp response. 
 
 "You nursed the old lady like a daughter — 
 you saved her somehow. If it hadn't been for 
 you " 
 
 " She would have been well weeks before, only 
 I was such a restless girl, and wouldn't let her be 
 quiet," laughs Mattie. 
 
 She passes into the shop again with the same 
 elastic tread, serves out two ounces of tobacco, de- 
 tects a bad shilling, and focuses the customer with 
 her dark eyes, appears but little impressed by his 
 apologies, and more interested in her change, locks 
 the till, and is once more in the parlour, talking 
 about Miss Harriet again. 
 
 " She is on her way now," she remarks ; " at 
 London Bridge by this time, and Master Hinch- 
 ford — we must say Mr. Hinchford now, I suppose
 
 92 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 — helping her into the cab he's been kind enough 
 to get for her." 
 
 "What's the time now, Wesclen f asks the 
 mother. 
 
 "Well," after the usual efforts to disinter — or 
 disembowel — the silver watch, " it's certainl}' just 
 ten." 
 
 "And by the time Tom's put the shutters up, 
 she'll be here!" cries Mattie ; "see if my .words 
 don't come true, ^Mr. Wesden." 
 
 "Well, I hope they will; if they don't, I— I 
 think I'll just put on my hat, and walk down to 
 the station." 
 
 Presently somebody coming downstairs with a 
 heavy, regular tread, pausing at the side door in the 
 parlour, and giving two decisive raps with his 
 knuckles on the panels. 
 
 " Come in." 
 
 Enter Mr. Hinchford, senior, with his white hair 
 rubbed the wrong way, and his florid face looking 
 somewhat anxious. 
 
 " Haven't they come yet ?" 
 
 " Not yet, sir."
 
 THE NEW ESTATE. 93 
 
 " Ah I I suppose not," catching Mattie's glance 
 directed towards him across the needlework which 
 she has resumed again, and at which she is work- 
 mcr harder than ever ; " there's boxes to find, and 
 pack on the cab, and Miss Harriet's no woman if 
 she do not remember at the last minute something 
 left behind in the carriage." 
 
 *^ Won't you sit down, sir?" asks Mrs. Wes- 
 den. 
 
 "N — no, thank you," he replies; "you'll have 
 your girl home in a minute, and we mustn't over- 
 crowd the little parlour. I shall give up my old 
 habit of smoking here, now the daughter comes 
 back — you must step up into my quarters, Wesden, 
 a little more often." 
 
 " Thank you." 
 
 " Temporary quarters, I suppose, we must say, 
 now the boy's getting on so well. Thank God," 
 with a burst of affection, "that I shall see that boy 
 in a good position of life before I die." 
 
 " He's a clever lad." 
 
 " Clever, sir I" ejaculates the father, " he's more 
 than clever, though I don't sing his praises before
 
 94 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 his face. He has as clear a head-piece as any man 
 of forty, and he's as ^ood a man of business." 
 
 " And so steady," adds Mrs. Wesden. 
 
 " God bless you ! madam, yes." 
 
 " And so saving," is the further addition of Mr. 
 Wesden, — " that's a good sign." 
 
 " Ah ! he knows the value of money better than 
 his father did at his age," says the old man; '^ with 
 his caution, energy, and cleverness we shall see 
 him, if we live, a great man. Whoever lives to 
 see him — a great man!" 
 
 "It's a comfort when our children grow up 
 blessings to us," remarks Mrs. Wesden, dreamily 
 looking at the Pire ; " neither you nor I, sir, have 
 any cause to be sorry for those we love so very, 
 very much." 
 
 " No, certainly not. We're lucky people in our 
 latter days — good night." 
 
 " You can't stop, then ?" asked Wesden. 
 
 " Not just now. Don't keep the boy down here, 
 please — he'll stand and talk, forgetting that he's in 
 the way to-night, unless you give him a hint to the 
 contrary. Out of business, he's a trifle inconsider-
 
 THE NEW ESTATE. 95 
 
 ate, unless you plainly tell him he's not wanted. 
 Good night — I shall see Harriet in the morning." 
 
 " Yes — good night." 
 
 Mr. Hinchford retires again, and in a few 
 minutes afterwards, before there is further time to 
 dilate upon the danger of railway travelling, and 
 the uncertainty of human hopes, the long-expected 
 cab dashes up to the door. There is a bustle in 
 Great Suffolk Street ; the cabman brings in the 
 boxes amidst a little knot of loungers, who have 
 evidently never seen a box before, or a cab, or a 
 young lady emerge therefrom assisted by a tall 
 young man, or listened to an animated dispute 
 about a cab-fare, which comes in by way of sequence 
 whilst the young lady is kissing everybody in turn 
 in the parlour. 
 
 " My fare's eighteenpence, guv'nor." 
 
 "Not one shilling, legally," affirmed the young 
 man. 
 
 " I never did it for a shilling afore — I ain't a 
 going now — I'll take a summons out first." 
 
 "Take it." 
 
 " You won't stand another sixpence, guv'nor?" 
 
 "No."
 
 96 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 '• Then," bundling on to his box, and lashing his 
 horse ferociously, " I won't waste my time on a 
 tailor — it's much too valuable for that !" 
 
 The Youn^ man laughs at this witherino; sarcasm, 
 and passes through the shop into the parlour, 
 where the animation has scarcely found time to 
 subside. 
 
 Harriet Wesden is hold in o; Mattie at arm's 
 length, and looking steadily at her — the stationer's 
 daughter is taller by a head than the stray. 
 
 ^' And you, Mattie, have been improving, I see 
 — ^learning all the lessons that 1 set you before I 
 went away — becoming of help to father and mother, 
 and thinking of poor nie sometimes." 
 
 " Ah ! very often of ^ poor me.' " 
 
 " Oh ! how tired I am ! — how glad I shall be to 
 find myself in my room ! . Noy', Mr. Sidney, 
 I'm going to bid you good night at once, thanking 
 you for all past services." 
 
 " Very well, Miss Harriet." 
 
 " And, goodness me! — I did not notice those things 
 before ! What ! spectacles, Sidney — at your 
 acre?"
 
 THE NEW ESTATE. 97 
 
 The tall young man colours and laughs — keeping 
 his position at the door-post all the while. 
 
 " Can't afford to have weak eyes yet, and so have 
 sacrificed all my personal charms for the sake of 
 convenience in matters of business. You don't 
 mean to say that they look so very bad, though ?" 
 
 "You look nearer ninety than nineteen," she re- 
 plies. " Oh ! I wouldn't take to spectacles for ever 
 so much.*' 
 
 "That's a very different affair," remarks Sid- 
 ney. 
 
 " Why ?" 
 
 " Oh ! because it is— that's all. Well, I think 
 I'll say good night now — shall I take that box up- 
 stairs for you, ]\iiss Harriet ?" 
 
 " Ann and I can manage it, Mr. Hinchford," 
 says Mattie. 
 
 " Yes, and put a rib out, or something. Can't 
 allow the gentler sex to be black slaves during my 
 sojourn in Great Suffolk Street. Good night all." 
 
 "Goodnight." 
 
 He closes the shop door, seizes the box which has 
 been deposited in the shop, swings it round on his 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 98 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 shoulders, and marches up-stairs with it two steps 
 at a time, and whistling the while. On the landing, 
 outside the sitting-room, and double-bedded room, 
 which his father occupies, Ann Packet, domestic 
 servant, meets him with a light. 
 
 " Lor a mussy on us ! — is that you. Master 
 Sidney?" 
 
 " Go a-head, upstairs, wench, and let us find a 
 place to put the box down. This is Miss Harriet's 
 box." 
 
 " Orful heavy, ain't it, sir?" 
 
 " Well — it's not so light as it might be," asserts 
 Master Sidney ; " forward, there." 
 
 Meanwhile, too tired to repair to her room for 
 any toilette arrangements at that hour of the night, 
 Harriet Wesden sits down between her mother and 
 father, holding her bonnet on her lap. Mr. and 
 Mrs. Wesden regard her proudly, as well they 
 may, Harriet being a girl to be proud of — tall, 
 graceful, and pretty, something that makes home 
 bright to the parents, and has been long missed by 
 them. No one is aware of all that they have sacri- 
 ficed in their desire to make a lady of their only child
 
 THE NEW ESTATE. 99 
 
 — or of one-half of tlie hopes which they have built 
 upon concerning her. 
 
 " This always seems such an odd, little box to 
 come back to after the great Brighton school," she 
 says, wearily ; " oh, dear ! how tired I am !" 
 
 " Get your supper, my dear, at once, and don't 
 sit up for anybody to-night," suggests the mother. 
 
 ^' I don't want any supper. I — I think I'll go 
 upstairs at once and keep all my little anecdotes of 
 school and schooling till the morrow. Shall I ?" 
 
 " By all means, Harriet, if you're tired," says 
 the father, " but after a long journey I would take 
 something. You don't feel poorly, my dear ?" 
 
 " Who? — T — oh ! no," she answered, startled at the 
 suggestion; " but I have been eating biscuits and 
 other messes all the journey up to London, and 
 therefore my appetite is spoiled for the niglit. To- 
 morrow I shall be myself again — and we will have 
 a long talk about all that has happened since I left 
 here last year — by to-morrow, we shall have settled 
 down so comfortably ! " 
 
 "I hope so." 
 
 She looks timidly towards her father, but he is 
 
 H 2
 
 100 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 smoking his pipe, and placidly surveying her. She 
 kisses him, then her mother, lastly Mattie, and 
 leaves the room ; — the instant afterwards Mattie 
 remembers the unwieldy box, which Master, or 
 Mr. Hinchford has carried upstairs. 
 
 " She'll never uncord the box — I should like to 
 help her, if you can spare me." 
 
 " Knots always did try the dear girl," affirms 
 Mrs. Wesden, " go and help her by all means — my 
 dear." 
 
 Mattie needs no second bidding ; she darts from 
 the room, and in a few minutes is at the top of the 
 house ; in her f orgetf ulness inside the room without 
 so much as a '' By your leave, Miss Wesden." 
 
 " Oh ! dear, I forgot to knock — and oh ! dear, 
 dear ! " rushing forward to Harriet sitting by the 
 bedside and rocking herself to and fro, as though 
 in pain, " what is the matter ? — can I help you ? 
 — what has happened !"
 
 THE NEW ESTATE. 101 
 
 CHAPTER II, 
 
 Miss Wesden continued to rock herself to and 
 fro and moan at frequent interv^als, after Mattie 
 had intruded so unceremoniously upon her sorrows. 
 She had reached the hysterical stage, and there was 
 no stopping the tears and the little windy sobs by 
 which they were varied — and Harriet Wesden in 
 tears, the girl whom Mattie had reverenced so 
 long, was too much for our small heroine. 
 
 " Oh ! dear — what has happened ? — shall I run 
 and tell your father and mother ?" 
 
 " Oh ! for goodness sake, don't think of anything 
 of the kind !" cried the startled Harriet ; " I — I — I 
 shall be better in a minute. It's only a spasm or 
 something — it's nothing that any one — can — help 
 me — with ! "
 
 102 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 " I know what it is," remarked Mattie, after a 
 moment's reflection. 
 
 ''You— you do, Mattie !" 
 
 " It's the wind," was the matter-of-fact reply ; 
 " you've been eating a heap of nasty buns, and then 
 come up here without your supper — and it's brought 
 on spasms, as you say." 
 
 " How ridiculous you are, child !" said this woman 
 of seventeen, parting her fair hair back from her 
 face, and making an effort to subdue her agitation ; 
 " don't you see that I am very, very miserable !" 
 
 " In earnest f 
 
 " Are people ever really, truly miserable in fun, 
 Mattie ?" was the sharp rejoinder. 
 
 "Not truly miserable, I should fancy. But 
 you — oh! Miss Harriet, you miserable, at your age!" 
 
 " Yes— it's a fact." 
 
 " Perhaps you have been robbed," suggested the 
 curious Mattie ; " I know that they used to send 
 them out from Kent Street to hang about the railway 
 stations. Never mind. Miss Harriet, I have been 
 earning money, lately ; and if you don't want your 
 father to know how careless you have been "
 
 THE NEW ESTATE. 103 
 
 " Always miselfisli — always thinking of doing 
 some absurd action, that shall benefit any one of 
 the name of Wesden. No, no, Mattie, it's not 
 money, it's not that — that vulgar complaint you 
 mentioned just now. Oh ! to have one friend in 
 the world in whom I could trust — in whom I could 
 confide my misery !" 
 
 " And haven't you one f was the soft answer. 
 
 Harriet looked up at the wistful face — so full of 
 love and pity. 
 
 "Ah! there's you — you mean. But you are a 
 child still, and would never understand me. You 
 would never have sympathy with all that I have 
 suffered, or keep my secret if you had." 
 
 " What I could understand, I cannot say — I'm 
 still hard at work, in over-time, at my lessons — 
 but you may be sure of my sympathy, and of my 
 silence. It's not that I'm so curious. Miss Harriet 
 — ^but that I hope, when I know all, to be a com- 
 fort to you." 
 
 Harriet shook her head despondently, and beat 
 her tiny foot impatiently upon the carpet. Any 
 one in the world to be a comfort to her, was a
 
 104 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 foolisli idea, that only irritated her to allude to. 
 " Tm living here to be a comfort to you all," 
 said Mattie, in a low voice ; " I've set myself to be 
 that, if ever I can. Everyone in this house helped 
 in a way to take me from the streets ; every one 
 has been more kind to me than I deserved — 
 helped me on — given me good advice — done so 
 much for me ! I — I have often thought that per- 
 haps my time might come some day to your family, 
 or the Hinchfords ; but if to you, my darling, 
 whom I love before the whole of them — who has 
 been more than kind — whom I loved when I was 
 a little ragged girl in the dark streets outside — how 
 happy I shall be ! " 
 
 "Happy to see me miserable, Mattie — that's what 
 that amounts to." 
 
 "I didn't mean that," answered Mattie, half- 
 aggrieved. 
 
 "No, I'm sure you did not," was the reply. 
 " Lock the door, my dear, and let me take you into 
 my confidence — I do want some one to talk to 
 about it terribly !" 
 
 Mattie locked the door, and, full of wonder, sat
 
 THE NEW ESTATE. 105 
 
 down by Harriet Wesden's side. The stationer's 
 daughter had always treated Mattie as a companion 
 rather than as a servant ; she had but seen her in 
 her holidays of late years — her father had trusted 
 Mattie and made a shop -woman of her — she had 
 found Mattie constituted after a while one of the 
 family — jMattie was only a year her junior, and 
 Mattie's love, almost her idolatry for her, had won 
 upon a nature which, thouo^h far from faultless, 
 was at least susceptible to kindness, ever touched 
 by affection, and ever ready to return both. 
 
 " You must know, Mattie, then — and pray never 
 breathe a syllable of this to mortal soul again — that 
 I'm in love." 
 
 "LorP' gasped Mattie. 
 
 " Dreadfully and desperately in love." 
 
 " Oh ! hasn't it come early — and oh ! aint I 
 dreadfully sorry." 
 
 "Hush, Mattie, not so loud. They'll be coming 
 up to bed in the next room presently, and if they 
 were to find it out, I should die." 
 
 " They wouldn't mind, after they had once got 
 used to it," said Mattie; "and if it has really come
 
 106 MATTIE : A STKAY. 
 
 to love in earnest — there's a good deal of sham love 
 I've been told — why, I don't think there's anything 
 to cry about. I should dance for joy myself." 
 
 " You're too young to know what you're talk- 
 ing aboutj Mattie/' reproved Harriet. 
 
 " No, I'm not," was the quick answer; "I should 
 feel very happy to know that there was some one 
 to love me better than anybody in the world — to 
 think of me first — pray about me before he went 
 to bed at night — dream of me till the daytime — 
 keep me always in his head. Why, shouldn't I be 
 happy to know this, I who never remember what 
 love was from anybody ?" 
 
 "Yes, yes, I understand you, Mattie," said Har- 
 riet ; " that's part of love — not all." 
 
 " What else is there ?" 
 
 Mattie was evidently extremely curious concern- 
 ing all phases of " the heart complaint." 
 
 "It's too complicated, Mattie; when you re a 
 woman, you'll be able to find out for yourself. 
 It's better not to trouble your head about it yet 
 awhile." 
 
 " I wish you hadn't. Miss Harriet. It's not the
 
 THE NEW ESTATE. 107 
 
 likes of me that is going to think about it ; and if 
 you had left it till you were really a woman — 
 I don't know much about the matter yet — but I'm 
 thinking it would be all the better for you, too, my 
 dear." 
 
 "It came all of a rush like — I wasn't thinking of 
 it. There were two young men at first, who used 
 to watch our school, and laugh at the biggest of us, 
 and kiss their hands — just as young men ivill do, 
 Mattie." 
 
 "Like their impudence, I think." 
 
 Mattie's matter-of-fact views were coming upper- 
 most again. She had seen much of the world 
 in her youth, experienced much hardship, worked 
 hard for a living, and there was no romance in her 
 disposition — only affection, which had developed of 
 late years, thanks to her new training. 
 
 "But there's always a little fun amongst the big 
 girls, Mattie." 
 
 " What is the governess about ?" 
 
 "She's looking out — but, bless you, she may 
 look!" 
 
 "Ah! I suppose so. WelH"
 
 108 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 "And then one young man went away, and only 
 one was left — the handsomer of the two — and he 
 fell in love with ?7ze/" 
 
 "Keally and truly?" 
 
 '^\Yliy, of course he did. Is it so wonderful?'' 
 and the boarding-school girl looked steadily at her 
 companion. 
 
 Mattie looked at her. She was a beautiful girl, 
 and perhaps it was not so wonderful, after all. 
 But then Mattie still looked at Harriet Wesden as 
 a child — even as a child younger than she whom 
 the world had aged very early — rendered "old- 
 fashioned," as the phrase runs, in many things, 
 
 "Not wonderful, perhaps — but wasn't it wrong?" 
 asked Mattie. 
 
 " I don't think so — I never thouo;ht of that — he 
 was very fond of me, and used to send me letters 
 by the servant, and I — I did get very fond of him. 
 He was a gentleman's son, and oh ! so handsome, 
 Mattie, and so tall, and so clever !" 
 
 " About your age, I suppose?" 
 
 "No, four-and-twenty, or more, perhaps. I don't 
 know."
 
 THE NEW ESTATE. 109 
 
 "Well?— oil! dear, how did it end?" asked 
 Mattie; "it's like the story-books in the shop — isn't 
 it?" 
 
 " Wait awhile, dear. The misery of the human 
 heart is to be unfolded now. He's a gentleman's 
 son, and there's an estate or something in West 
 India or East India, or in some dreadful hot place 
 over the water somewhere, where the natives hook 
 themselves in the small of their backs, and swing 
 about and say their prayers." 
 
 " How nasty ! " 
 
 " And — and he — was to go there," her sobs be- 
 ginning again at the reminiscence, "and live there, 
 and," dropping her voice to a whisper, " he asked 
 me if I'd run away with him, and be married to 
 him over there." 
 
 Mattie clenched her fist spasmodically. She saw 
 through the flimsy veil of romance, with a sudden- 
 ness for which she was unprepared herself. She 
 was a woman of the world, with a knowledge of the 
 evil in it, on the instant. 
 
 " Oh ! that man was a big scamp, I'm sm*e of it 
 —I know it!"
 
 110 MATTIE : A STEAY. j 
 
 1 
 
 " What makes you think that ?" asked Harriet, | 
 
 imperiously. \ 
 
 " Couldn't he have come to Suffolk Street, and \ 
 told your father all about it like a — like a man f 
 
 " Yes, but his father — his father is a gentleman, i 
 
 and would never let him marry a poor, deplorable i 
 
 stationer's dauo;hter." i 
 
 " Ah ! his father does not know you, and his i 
 
 father didn't have the chance of trying, I'm in- j 
 clined to think," was the shrewd comment here. 
 
 " Never mind that," said Harriet, " I don't see 
 that that's anything to do with the matter just 
 now. I wouldn't run away; I was very frightened ; 
 I loved father and mother, and I knew how they 
 
 loved me. And when I cried, he said he had only ] 
 
 done it to try me, and then — and then — he went ! 
 
 away next day for ever ! " : 
 
 " And a good riddance," muttered Mattie. , 
 
 " Oh ! Mattie, you cruel, ci'uel girl, is this the | 
 sympathy you talked about a little while ago ?" 
 
 "I've every sympathy with you, my own dear 
 
 young lady," said Mattie ; " I'm sorry to see how j 
 
 this is troubling you — you so young ! — just now. ]
 
 THE NEW ESTATE. Ill 
 
 But I don't tliink he acted very properly, Miss 
 Harriet, or that you were quite so careful of your- 
 self as — as you might have been." 
 
 " I'm a wretched, wretched woman !" 
 
 " Does he know where you live ?" 
 
 "Ye — es," she sobbed. 
 
 "And where did he live before he went to 
 India f ' 
 
 "Surrey." 
 
 "That's a large place, I think. I haven't turned 
 to geography lately, but I fancy it's a double map. 
 If that's all the address, it's a good big one. May 
 I ask his namef 
 
 " Never," was the melo-dramatic answer. 
 
 " Ah ! it does not matter much. I hope, for the 
 sake of all do^^'n-stairs, you will try and forget it. 
 It's no credit; you were much too young, and he 
 too old in everything. Oh! Miss Harriet, you and 
 the other young ladies must have been going it 
 down at Brighton !" 
 
 " It all happened suddenly, Mattie ; I'm not a 
 forward girl ; they're all of my age — oh ! and ever 
 so much bolder."
 
 112 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 "A very nice school that must be, I should 
 thmk," said Mattie, leaving the bed for the box, 
 which she proceeded to uncord; " if I ever hear of 
 anybody wanting to send their daughters to a 
 finishing akkademy," Mattie was not thoroughly 
 up in pure English yet, " I'll just recommend that 
 one !" 
 
 " Mattie," reproved Harriet, " you've got at all 
 that you wanted to know, and now you're full of 
 bitter sarcasm." 
 
 " I'm full of bitter nothing. Miss," was the reply ; 
 " and oh ! — you don't know how sorry I feel that it 
 has all happened, making you so old and womanly, 
 before your time — filling your head with rubbish 
 about — the chaps !" 
 
 Harriet said nothing — she sat and watched Avith 
 dreamy eyes the process of uncording ; only, when 
 Mattie attempted to tm-n the box on its side, did 
 she spring up and help to assist without a word. 
 
 '^ There, that'll do," she said peevishly ; " let me 
 only unlock the box, and get at my night-things, 
 that's all I want, flattie, for goodness sake, don't 
 keep so in the way !"
 
 THE XEW ESTATE. 113 
 
 Mattie stood aside, and Harriet Wesden, with an 
 impatient hand, unlocked the box, and raised the 
 heavy oaken Kd. Mattie's eyes, sliarp as needles, 
 detected a small roll of ^^Titten papers, neatly tied. 
 
 " Are these the letters, Miss Harriet ?" 
 
 " Good gracious me, how curious and prying you 
 are !" said Harriet, snatching the packet from her 
 hand. " I wish I had never told you a syllable — 
 I wish 3'ou'd leave my things alone ! " 
 
 ^' I beg your pardon — I only asked. It icas 
 wrong." 
 
 '^ Well, there, I forgive you ; but you are so tire- 
 some, and old-fashioned. I can't make you out — 
 I never shall — you're not like other girls." 
 
 '' Was 1 brought up like other girls, you know T 
 was the sad question. 
 
 ''No, no — I forgot that — I beg your pardon, 
 Mattie ; I didn't mean it for a taunt." 
 
 " God bless you, I know that. What are you 
 doing ?" 
 
 " Getting rid of these," thrusting the letters in 
 the candle flame as she spoke. " I can trust you, 
 but not them, Mattie." 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 114 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 " I'd hold them over the fire-place, then. If they 
 drop on the toilet-table, we shall have the house 
 a-fire." 
 
 Harriet took the advice proffered, and removed 
 her combustibles to the place recommended. Mattie, 
 on her knees by the box, watched the pro- 
 cess. 
 
 " And there's an end of tJiem,'^ Harriet said at 
 last, in a decisive tone. 
 
 " And of him — say of him ?" 
 
 " We parted for ever — ^but I shall always think 
 of him — think, too, that perhaps I was very young 
 and thoughtless and vain, to lead him on, or to be 
 led on. But oh ! Mattie, he did love me — he 
 wouldn't have harmed me for the world !" 
 
 " He hasn't spoken of writing — you haven't pro- 
 mised to write any more." 
 
 *^ No — it was a parting for ever. Haven't I said 
 so, over and over again?" 
 
 " Then you'll soon forget him. Miss Harriet — 
 try and forget him, for your own sake — ^you can't 
 tell whether he wasn't making game of you, for 
 certain ; he didn't act well, for he wasn't a boy, was
 
 THE NEW ESTATE. 115 
 
 he ? And now oro to sleep, and wake up in the 
 morning your old self, Mss." 
 
 " ni try— I must try ! " 
 
 " I don't think that this fine gentleman will ever 
 turn up again ; if he does, you'll be older to take 
 your own part. Oh ! dear, how contrary things do 
 go, to be sure." 
 
 " What's the matter now f 
 
 " I did think I knew whom you were to many." 
 
 " VHao was it ?" said Harriet, with e\adent interest 
 in her question. 
 
 ^^ Well, I thought. Miss Harriet, that you'd gro^^- 
 up, and grow^ up to be a young woman, and that 
 blaster Sidney underneath, would grow up, and 
 grow up to be a young man, and you'd fall natu- 
 rally in love with one another — many, and be oh ! 
 so happy. When I'm hard at work at the lessons he 
 or his father writes out for me sometimes, I catch 
 myself forgetting all about them, and thinking of 
 you and him together — and I your servant, perhaps, 
 or little housekeeper. I've always thought that that 
 would come to pass some day, and that he'd grow 
 rich, and make a lady of you — and it made me 
 
 i2
 
 IIG MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 happy to think that the two, who'd been perhaps 
 the kindest in all the world to me, would marry 
 some fine day. I've pictered it — pictured it," she 
 corrected, '' many and many a time, until I fancied 
 at last it must come true." 
 
 " Master Sidney, indeed !" was the disparaging 
 comment. 
 
 " When you know him, you won't talk like that," 
 said Mattie ; " he's a gentleman — growing like one 
 fast — and I don't think, young as he is, that he 
 would have acted like that other one you've been 
 silly enough to think about." 
 
 " Silly ! — oh ! Mattie, Mattie, that isn't sympathy 
 with me — I don't know whether you're a child, or 
 an old woman — you talk like both of them, and in 
 one breath. Why did I tell you ! — why did I tell 
 you!" 
 
 " Because I was in earnest, and begged hard — 
 because I was afraid, and you could not keep such 
 a secret from me as that ; and if you had wanted 
 help — how I would have stood by you !" 
 
 Harriet noted the kindling eyes, and her heart 
 warmed to the nondescript.
 
 THE NEW ESTATE. 117 
 
 " Thank vou, Mattie — one friend at least now." 
 
 " Always, — don't you think so?" 
 
 "Yes, I do." 
 
 flattie was at the door, when Harriet called her 
 back. 
 
 "Mattie, never a word about this again. I dare- 
 say I shall soon forget it, for I am very young ; and 
 though it was love, yet I won't let it break my 
 heart. I'm very wretched now. I shall be glad," 
 she added with a yawn, " to lie down and think of 
 all my sorrows." 
 
 "And sleep them away." 
 
 " Oh ! I shall not close an eye to-night. Good 
 night, Mattie." 
 
 Miss Harriet Wesden, a young lady who had 
 begun life early, was sleeping soundly three 
 minutes after Mattie's departure from the room.
 
 118 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 CHAPTER ni. 
 
 OUR CHARACTERS. 
 
 In our last chapter we have implied that life began 
 early for Harriet Wesden. Before her school-days 
 were finishedj and with that precocity for which 
 school-gMs of the present era are unhappily dis- 
 tinguished, she was thinking of her lover, and con- 
 stituting herself the heroine of a little romance, all 
 the more dangerous for being unreal and out of 
 the common track. A tender-hearted girl, with a 
 head not the most strong in the world, is easily 
 impressed by the sentiment, real or assumed, of 
 the first good-looking young fellow whom she may 
 meet. In her own opinion she is not too young 
 to receive admiration, and the consciousness of 
 having impressed one of the opposite sex, arouses 
 her vanity, changes the current of her thoughts,
 
 THE NEW ESTATE. 119 
 
 makes the world for awhile a very different 
 place — bright, etherial and unreal. All this very 
 dangerous ground to tread, but the more delight- 
 ful for its pitfalls ; all this a something that has 
 occurred in a greater or less degree to most of 
 us in our time, though we have the good sense to 
 say nothing about it, or to laugh at the follies and 
 the troubles we rashly sought in our nonage. 
 Boys and girls begin their courtships early in these 
 latter days — there is not a girl of sixteen who does 
 not consider herself fit to love and be loved, how- 
 ever demure she may appear, or however much she 
 may be kept back by detestable short frocks and 
 friUed indescribables. And as for our boys, why, 
 they are men of the world immediately they leave 
 school — men of a world that is growing more rapid 
 in its revolutions, and hardens its inhabitants won- 
 derfully fast. It is a singular fact in the history 
 of shop-keeping, that children's toys are becoming 
 unfashionable. "Bless you, su', children don't buy 
 toys now, the/re much too old for those amuse- 
 ments I " was the assertion of one of the trade to the 
 writer of this work. And how many little misses
 
 120 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 and masters can most of us call to mind who are 
 growing pale over their fancy work, their books, 
 and their " collections," children who will do 
 anything but play, and have souls above ^' Noah's 
 Arks." 
 
 Therefore, in these precocious times, Harriet 
 Wesden, seventeen next month, was no exceptional 
 creature ; moreover, she had been to a boarding- 
 school, where she had met w^ith many of her 
 own age who were twice as womanly and worldly 
 — big girls, who were always talking about " the 
 chaps," as Mattie had inelegantly phrased it. 
 
 There is no occasion in this place to retrace 
 the school-career of Harriet Wesden, to see how 
 much she has kept back or extenuated ; her story 
 to Mattie was a truthful one, told with no draw- 
 backs, but with a half-pride in her achievements 
 which her girlish sorrows were not capable of con- 
 cealing. There was something satisfactory in 
 having loved and having been loved ; and though the 
 love had vanished away, still the reminiscence was 
 not wholly painful, however much she might fancy 
 so at that period.
 
 THE NEW ESTATE. 121 
 
 Mattie had listened to her story, and offered all 
 the consolation in her power ; Mattie was a girl of 
 hard, plain facts, and looked more soberly at the 
 world than her contemporaries. She had a dark 
 knowledge of the worst part of it, and her early 
 years liad aged her more than she was aware of her- 
 self — aged her thoughts rather than her heart, for 
 she was always cheerful, and her spirits were never 
 depressed ; she went her way in life quietly and 
 earnestly, grateful for the great change by which 
 that life had been characterized ; grateful to all 
 who had helped to turn it in a different channel. 
 At this period, Mattie was happy ; there was no- 
 thing to trouble her ; it was an important post to 
 hold in that stationer's shop ; everybody had confi- 
 dence in her, and had given her kind words; she had 
 learned to know right from wrong ; they were in- 
 terested in her moral progress, both the shopkeeper 
 and the lodgers on the first floor ; she was more 
 than content with her position in society — she was 
 thankful for it. 
 
 The Hinchfords had maintained their interest 
 in Mattie, from the day of her attempt to explain
 
 122 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 her long search for the brooch. The father, a student 
 of human nature, as he termed himself, had per- 
 suaded her to attend evening school, to study to 
 improve in reading and writing at home ; and Master 
 Hinchf ord, who wrote a capital hand, set her copies 
 in his leisure, and gave his verdict on her caligra- 
 phic performances. Mattie snatched at the elements 
 of her education in a fugitive manner ; Mr. Wesden 
 did not object to her progress, but she was his ser- 
 vant, afterwards his shopwoman, and he wanted his 
 money's worth out of her, like a man who under- 
 stood business in all its branches. Mattie never 
 neglected work for her studies, and yet made 
 rapid advancement ; and, by-and-bye, Mr. Hinch- 
 ford, during one of his quiet interviews with the 
 stationer, had obtained for her more time to attend 
 her evening classes — and hence the improvement 
 which we have seen in Mattie. So time had gone 
 on, till Miss Wesden's return for good — so far, then, 
 had the stationer's daughter and the stray made 
 progress. 
 
 Mattie, with a judgment beyond her years, had 
 perceived the evanescent nature of Harriet Wesden's
 
 THE NEW ESTATE. 123 
 
 romance, and prophesied concerning it. She did 
 not believe in the depth or intensity of Harriet's 
 sorrow ; moreover, she kncAv Haniet was not of a 
 fretful disposition, and that new faces and new 
 pursuits would exercise their usual effect upon 
 a nature impressionable, and — just a little weak ! 
 Mattie was a judge of character without being aware 
 of it, and her own unimpressionability set her above 
 her fellows, and gave her a clear insight into events 
 that were passing around her. A girl of observa- 
 tion also, who let few things — serious or trivial — 
 escape her, but glanced at them in their revolutions, 
 and remembered them, if necessar}^ This acute- 
 ness had possibly been derived from her hand-to- 
 mouth existence in the old days ; in her time of 
 affluence, the habit of storing up and taking mental 
 notes of everything, had not deserted her. Take 
 her altogether, she was a sharp girl, and suited Mr. 
 Wesden's business admirably. 
 
 Quietly Mattie set herself to take stock of 
 Harriet Wesden, after the latter's confession, to 
 note if the love to which she had confessed were 
 likely to be a permanency or not. Harriet and
 
 124 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 Mattie spoke but little concerning the adventures 
 at Brighton ; Mattie shunned the subject, and 
 turned the conversation w^hen Harriet felt prone to 
 dilate upon her melancholy sensations. Besides, 
 Mattie knew her place, kept to the shop, whither 
 Hamet seldom followed her — that vounor lady hav- 
 ing a soul above the business, by which she had 
 benefited. Mr. and Mrs. Wesden rather admired 
 this ; they had saved money, and the business, to 
 the latter at least, was but a secondary considera- 
 tion ; they had paid a large sum to make a lady of 
 Harriet, and when they retired from business, 
 Harriet would go with them, and be their hope and 
 comfort, with her lady-like ways, in their little sub- 
 urban residence. They were not slow in letting 
 Harriet know this ; they spoke of a private life 
 very frequently ; when Harriet was two years older, 
 they would retire and live happily ever afterwards ! 
 Or, Mr. Wesden thought more prudently, if they 
 did not give up the business for good, still they 
 would live away from it, and leave the man- 
 agement of it to some trustworthy personage — 
 Mattie, for instance, who would see after their in-
 
 THE NEW ESTATE, 125 
 
 terests, whilst they took their ease in their old age. 
 
 Mr. Hinchford, senior, had listened to these flying 
 remarks more than once ; he spoke of his own es- 
 tablishment in the fiitui'e in Ms tui'n — where and 
 how he should live with that clever boy of his, who 
 would redeem the family credit by assuming the 
 Hinchfords' legitimate position. 
 
 " I kept my carriage once, ^Ii'. Wesden — I hope 
 to do it again. My boy's very clever, very ener- 
 getic — he has gained the esteem of his employers, 
 and I believe that they will make a partner of him 
 some day.'' 
 
 What Sidney Hinchford believed, did not appear 
 upon the surface. He w^as a youth — say a young 
 man — who kept a great many thoughts to himself, 
 and pushed on in life steadily and undemonstra- 
 tively. His father was right ; Sidney had gained 
 the esteem of his employers ; he was very clever at 
 figures, handy as a correspondent, never objected to 
 over-work, did more work than any one of the old 
 hands ; evinced an aptitude for business and an 
 interest in his employers' success — very remarkable 
 iu these egotistical times. His employers were whole-
 
 126 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 sale tea-dealers in Mincing Lane — well-to-do men, 
 without families of their own — men who had risen 
 from the ranks, after the fashion of City-men, who 
 have a nice habit of getting on in the world. 
 Sidney Hinchford's manner pleased them, but they 
 kept their own counsel, and watched his progress — 
 and Sidney's was a remarkable progress, for a youth 
 of his age. 
 
 Sidney, be it said here, was an ambitious youth 
 in his heart. His father had been a rich man ; 
 his father's family, from which they held them- 
 selves aloof, were rich people, and his hope was in 
 recovering the ground which, by some means or 
 other never satisfactorily explained to him, the 
 Suffolk Street lodgers had managed to lose. Young 
 men brought up in City counting-houses have a 
 wonderful reverence for money; Sidney saw its 
 value early in life, and became just a trifle too 
 careful; for over-carefulness makes a man suspicious, 
 and keeps the heart from properly expanding with 
 love and charity to those who need it. An earnest 
 and an honourable young man, as w^e hope to prove 
 without labelling our character at the outset, yet
 
 THE NEW ESTATE. 127 
 
 he stood too much upon what was legal, what was 
 a fair price, or a good bargain, and pushed his way 
 onwards without much thought for the condition 
 of beings less lucky than he. There was a prize 
 ahead of him ; he could see it above the crowd which 
 jostled him for bread, for fame, for other prizes 
 worth the winning, and by which he set no store, 
 and he kept his eyes upon it steadfastly and dreamed 
 of it in his sleep. He became grave-faced and 
 stern before his time — he was a man at nine- 
 teen, with a man's thoughts, and doing a man's 
 work. 
 
 And then a something came to soften him and 
 turn his thoughts a little aside from the beaten 
 track, and this is how it came about.
 
 128 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 A NEW ADMIRE R. 
 
 Master Sidney Hinchford in old times had 
 been a playfellow of Harriet Wesden — lodging in 
 the same house together, returning from school 
 at the same hours, they had become almost 
 brother and sister, entertaining for each other 
 that child's affection, which it was but natural to 
 expect would have been developed under the cir- 
 cumstances. 
 
 Mr. Hinchford, a widower, with no great ability 
 in the management of children, was glad to see his 
 boy find an attraction in the stationer's parlour, 
 and leave him to the study of his books or the 
 perusal of his newspapers, after the long office- 
 hours. He was a thoughtful man, too, who con- 
 sidered it best for his son to form a friendship with
 
 THE NEW ESTATE. 129 
 
 one of his own age; and he had become attached to 
 the Wesdens, as people who had been kind to him 
 and his boy in a gi'eat trouble. And it was satis- 
 factory to pair off Harriet Wesden — wlio was in 
 the way of business, and generally considered at 
 that period a tiresome child, seldom of one mind 
 longer than five minutes together — with Master 
 Hinchford, and so keep her out of mischief and 
 out of the shop where the draughts were manv 
 and likel}^ to affect her health. This good under- 
 standing had never diminished between Harriet 
 Wesden and Sidney Hinchf ord ; only the boarding- 
 school at last had set them apart. When they met 
 once a year, they were still the same warm friends, 
 and it was like a brother meeting a sister when the 
 Christmas holidays came round. The last holiday 
 but one, when Harriet, who had gi'own rapidly, re- 
 tm-ned from Brighton, a girl close upon sixteen 
 years of age, there was a little shyness at first be- 
 tween them, which wore off in a few days. Sidney 
 met her after a year's absence without kissing her, 
 stared and stammered, and found it hard to assume 
 a natural demeanour, and it was only Harriet's 
 VOL. 1. K
 
 130 MATTIE : A STKAY. 
 
 frank and girlish ways that eventually set him at his 
 ease. 
 
 The present Christmas all was altered, very much 
 for the worse, Sidney thought. He had met, for 
 the first time, a pale-faced, languishing young lady 
 — a lady who had become very beautiful certainly, 
 but was not the Harriet Wesden whom he had 
 hitherto kno^\ai. He had escorted her from the 
 Brighton station, thinking that she had altered very 
 much, and that he did not like her new ways half 
 so well as the old ; he had seen her every evening 
 after that return, noted the variableness of her 
 moods, set her down, in his critical w^ay, for an 
 eccentric girl, whom it was impossible to under- 
 stand. 
 
 If she were dull, he fancied he had offended her; 
 if she were lively, he became thin-skinned enough 
 to imagine that she w^as making fun of him. He 
 did not like it, he thought ; but he found the new 
 Harriet intruding upon his business ideas, getting 
 between him and the rows of figures in his ledger, 
 perplexing him with the last look she gave him, 
 and the last musical word that had rung in his ears.
 
 THE NEW ESTATE. 131 
 
 He did not believe that he was going to fall in love 
 with her — not when he was really in love with her, 
 and found his sensations a nuisance. 
 
 And Harriet Wesden, who had already succumbed 
 to the love-god, and been enraptiired by the dulcet 
 notes of the stranger, she thought Sidney Hinch- 
 ford had not improved for the better; that his 
 glasses rendered him almost plain, that his dry hard 
 voice grated on her ears, and that he had even 
 grown quite a cross-looking young man. She took 
 occasion to tell him these unpleasant impressions 
 with a sisterly frankness to which he appeared to 
 object ; gave him advice as to deportment, set of 
 his neckerchief, size of his gloves, and only became 
 a little thoughtful when she noted the effect which 
 her advice had upon him, and the lamb-Hke do- 
 cility with which he obeyed all her directions. 
 Finally, all her spirits came back ; she had her 
 doubts as to the state of Sidney Hinchford's heart, 
 and whether her first judgment on his personal 
 appearance were correct in the main ; she began to 
 observe him more closely ; life appeared to present 
 an object in it once more ; her vanity — for she was 
 
 K 2
 
 132 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 a girl who knew she was pretty, and was proud of 
 the influence which her pretty face exercised — was 
 flattered by his rapt attention ; and though she 
 should never love anybody again — never, never in 
 all her life ! — yet it was pleasant to know that 
 Sidney was thinking of her, and to see how a smile 
 or a frown of hers brightened his looks or cast 
 them back into shadow. 
 
 Harriet Wesden was partial to experimentalizing 
 on the effect which her appearance might create 
 on society. She was not a strong-minded girl, who 
 despised appearances ; on the contrary, as w^eak 
 and as vain as that Miss Smith or Miss Brown, 
 whose demerits our wives discuss over their tea- 
 tables. She was not strong-minded — she was 
 pretty — and she was seventeen years of age ! 
 
 If she went for a walk, or on a shopping ex- 
 cursion, she was particular about the bonnet she 
 wore ; and if young men, and old men too, some 
 of them, looked admiringly at her pretty face as 
 they passed her, she was flattered at the attention 
 in her heart, although she kept steadily on her 
 way, and looked not right or left in her progress.
 
 THE XEW ESTATE. 133 
 
 If the army of nondescripts in the great drapers' 
 was thrown into a small flutter at her appearance 
 therein, and white neckclothed servility struggled 
 behind the boxes for the distinction of waiting on 
 her, it was a gratification which she felt all the more 
 for remaining so lady-like and unmoved on the 
 high chair before the counter. She was a girl 
 who knew her attractions, and was proud of them; 
 but unfortunately she was a girl who knew but 
 little else, and who thouglit but of little else just 
 then. There was a pleasure in knowing that, let 
 her step into any part of the London streets, people 
 would notice her, even stop and look after her; 
 and it did not strike her that there were other 
 faces as pretty as hers, who received the same 
 amount of staring and gaping at, and met with 
 the same little " romantic" incidents occasionally. 
 
 From her boarding-school days, Harriet had 
 been inclined to romance ; the one foolish escapade 
 had tinged life with romantic hues, and pretty as 
 she was, her opinion of her own good looks was 
 considerably higher than any one else's. She 
 passed through life from seventeen to eighteen
 
 134 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 years of age taking everything as a compliment — 
 flattered by the rude stares, the impertinent smiles 
 from shallow-brained puppies who leer at every 
 woman en route; rather pleased than otherwise if 
 a greater idiot or a nastier beast than his contempo- 
 raries tracked her footsteps homewards, and lingered 
 about Great Suffolk Street in the hope of seeing 
 her again. All this the spell of her beauty which 
 lured men towards her ; all this without one 
 thought of harm — simply an irresistible vanity that 
 took delight in her influence, and was pleased 
 with immoderate fooleries. 
 
 Pretty, vain, foolish, and fond of attention, on 
 the one side; but good-tempered, good-hearted, 
 and innocent of design on the other. A butterfly 
 disposition, that would carry its owner through life 
 if the sun shone, but would be whirled heaven 
 knows where in a storm. She would have been 
 happy all her life, had all mankind been up to the 
 dead level of honest intentions, which it is not, just 
 at present, thanks to the poor wretches like us who 
 get our living by story-telling. 
 
 Most young ladies constituted like Harriet
 
 THE XEW ESTATE. 135 
 
 Wesden have an ordeal to pass through for better 
 for worse ; if for worse, God help them ! Harriet 
 Wesden's came in due coui'se. 
 
 It was, in the beginning, but another chapter of 
 romance — another conquest! Love at first sight 
 in London Streets, and the fervour of a new-born 
 passion carrying the devotee out of the track, and 
 leading him to follow in her footsteps, worshipping 
 at a distance. It had occurred twice before, and 
 was a compliment to the power of her charms — 
 her heart quite fluttered at these little breaks in a 
 somewhat monotonous existence. It was rather 
 aggravating that the romance always ended in an 
 old-fashioned bookseller's shop in Great Suffolk 
 Street, where " the mysterious strangers " were 
 jostled into the mud by people with baskets, and 
 then run down by bawling costers with barrows. 
 That was not a nice end to the story, and though 
 she wished the story to conclude at the door, 
 yet she would have preferred something more 
 graceful as a ^'wind-up." Nevertheless, take it 
 for all in all, a satisfactory proof that she had a 
 face pretty enough to lure people out of their way,
 
 136 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 and rob them of their time — lead them without a 
 ^' mite of encouragement" on her part to follow her 
 fairy footsteps. If there were hj^pocrisy in her 
 complaints to Mattie concerninoj the' "impudence" 
 of the fellows, she scarcely knew it herself ; and 
 Mattie would not believe in hypocrisy in the girl 
 whom she served with a Balderstonian fidelity. 
 The third fugitive adorer of the stationer's daughter 
 was of a different stamp to his predecessors. He 
 was one of a class — a gentleman by birth and 
 position, and a prowler by profession. A prowler 
 in fine clothes of fashionable cut, hanging about 
 fashionable thoroughfares when London was in 
 town, and going down to fashionable watering- 
 places when London needed salt water. A man 
 of the lynx order of bipeds, hunting for prey at all 
 times and seasons, meeting with many rebuffs, and 
 anon — and alas! — with sufficient encouragement 
 — attracted by every fresh, innocent face ; seeking 
 it out as his profession ; following it with a perti- 
 nacity that would have been creditable in any 
 other pursuit — in fact, a scamp of the first 
 water !
 
 THE XEW ESTATE. 137 
 
 Harriet Wesclen had gone westward in search of 
 a book ordered by a customer, and had met this man, 
 when homeward bound, in Regent Street. Harriet's 
 face attracted him, and in a business- Hke manner, 
 which told of long practice, he started in pursuit, 
 regulating his conduct by the future manoem^-es 
 of the object in view. Harriet fluttered on her way 
 homewards, conscious, almost by intuition, that she 
 was followed ; proceeding steadily in a south-eastern 
 direction, and pertinaciously keeping the back of 
 her straw bonnet to the pursuer. Had she looked 
 behind once, our prowler would have increased his 
 pace, and essayed to open a conversation — a half 
 smile, even a look of interest, the ghost of an 
 ceillade would have been sufficient test of character 
 for him, and he would have chanced his fortunes 
 by a coup d'etat. 
 
 But he was in doubt. Once in crossing the 
 Strand, towards Waterloo Bridge, he managed to 
 veer round and confront her, but she never glanced 
 towards him ; so Avith a consideration not generally 
 apparent in prowlers, he contented himself with 
 following her home. He had his time on his hands
 
 138 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 — he had not met with an adventure lately — he was 
 approaching a region that was not well known to him, 
 and the smell of which disgusted him; but there was 
 a something in Harriet Wesden's face which took 
 him gingerly along, and he was a man who always 
 followed his adventures to an end. Cool, calculat- 
 ing and daring, he would have made an excellent 
 soldier — being brought up as an idler, he turned 
 out a capital scoundrel. 
 
 Harriet reached her own door and gave a half 
 timid, half inquiring glance round, before she 
 passed into the shop ; our prowler took stock of 
 the name and the number — he had an admirable 
 memory — examined everything in the shop window; 
 walked on the opposite side of the way; looked up 
 at the first and second floor, and met with no- 
 thing to reward his vigilance but the fierce face of 
 old Hinchford ; finally entered the shop and pur- 
 chased some cigars, grinding his teeth quietly to 
 himself over Mr. Wesden's suspicions of his 
 sovereign being a counterfeit. 
 
 We should not have dwelt upon this incident, 
 had it thus ended, or had no effect upon our story's
 
 THE NEW ESTATE. 139 
 
 progress. But, on the contrary, from the man's 
 persistency, strange results evolved. 
 
 Twice or thrice a week this tall, high-shouldered, 
 moustached row^, of five-and-thirty, appeared in 
 Suffolk Street — patronized the bookseller's shop by 
 purchases — ^hulked about street corners, watchingthe 
 house, and catching a glimpse of Harriet occasion- 
 ally. This was the Brighton romance over again, 
 only Harriet was a year older now, and the hero of 
 the story was sallow-faced and sinister — there was 
 danger to any modest girl in those little scintillating 
 eyes of his ; and that other hero had been much 
 younger, and had really loved her, she believed ! 
 
 Pertinacit}^ appears like devotion to some minds, 
 and our prowler had met with his reward more than 
 once by keeping doggedly to his post ; he held his 
 ground therefore, and watched his opportunity. 
 Harriet Wesden had become frightened by this 
 time ; the adventure had lost its romantic side, and 
 there was something in her new admirer's face which 
 warned even her, a girl of no great penetration. 
 
 Mattie was always Harriet's confidante in these 
 matters — Harriet was fond of asking advice how to
 
 140 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 proceed, although she did not always take the same 
 with good grace. That little, black-eyed confidante 
 kept watch in her turn upon the prowler, and re- 
 solved in her mind the best method of action. 
 
 " I'm afraid of him, Mattie," whispered Harriet ; 
 " I should not like father to know he had followed 
 me home, lest he should think I had given the man 
 encouragement, and father can be very stern when 
 his suspicions are aroused. Besides, I shouldn't 
 like Sidney to know." 
 
 " But he wouldn't believe that you had given him 
 encouragement ; he thinks too much of you, I 
 fancy." 
 
 '^You're full of fancies, Mattie." 
 " And — oh ! there's the man again, looking 
 under the London Journals. How very much like 
 the devil in a French hat he is, to be sure ! " 
 
 This dialogue occurred in the back parlour, 
 whilst Mrs. Wesden was up-stairs, and Mr. Wesden 
 in Paternoster Row in search of the December 
 *' monthlies" — and in the middle of it the devil in 
 his French hat, stepped, with his usual cool imper- 
 turbability, into the shop.
 
 THE NEW ESTATE. 141 
 
 This procedure always annoyed Mattie ; she saw 
 through the pretence, and, though it brought cus- 
 tom to the establishment, still it aggravated her. It 
 was playing at shop, and "making-believe" to want 
 something ; and shop with our humble heroine was 
 an important matter, and not to be hghtly trifled 
 with. She had her revenge in her way by selling the 
 prowler the driest, hardest, and most undrawable of 
 cigars, giving him the penny Pickwicks for the 
 mild Havannahs ; she sold him fusees that she 
 knew had been left in a damp place, and the out- 
 side periodicals, which had become torn and soiled 
 — could she have discovered a bad sixpence in the 
 till, I believe, in her peculiar ideas of retaliation, 
 she would not have hesitated an instant in present- 
 ing it, with his change. 
 
 The gentleman of energy entered the shop then, 
 rolled his eyes over the parlour blind towards Har- 
 riet, who sat at fancy-work by the fireside, finally 
 looked at Mattie, who stood stolidly surveying him. 
 Now energy without a result had considerably 
 damped the ardour of our prowler, and he had re- 
 solved to push a little forward in the sapping and
 
 142 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 mining way. He was a man who had made femi- 
 nine pursuit a study ; he knew human weakness, 
 and the power of the money he carried in his pockets. 
 He was well up in Ovid and in the old comedies 
 of a dissolute age, where the Abigail is always 
 tempted before the mistress — and Mattie was only 
 a servant of a lower order, easily to be worked 
 upon, he had not the slightest doubt. There was 
 a servant who did the scrubbing of the stones be- 
 fore the door, and sat half out of window polish- 
 ing the panes, till she curdled his blood, but 
 she was a red-faced, stupid girl, and as there was 
 a choice, he preferred that shop-girl, '' with the 
 artful black eyes," as he termed them. 
 
 " Good morning. Miss." 
 
 " Good morning." 
 
 " Have you any — any more of those exceedingly 
 nice cigars. Miss ?" 
 
 "Plenty more of them." 
 
 "I'll take a shilling's-worth." 
 
 Mattie, always anxious to get him out of the 
 shop, rolled up his cigars in paper, and passed 
 them rapidly across the counter. The prowler, not
 
 THE NEW ESTATE. 143 
 
 at all anxious, unrolled the paper, drew forth his 
 cigar-case, and proceeded to place the "Havannahs" 
 very carefully one by one in their proper recep- 
 tacles, talking about the weather and the business, 
 and even complimenting Mattie upon her good 
 looks that particular morning, till Mattie's blood 
 began to simmer. 
 
 " You haven't paid me yet, sir," she said, rather 
 sharply. 
 
 "No, Miss — in one moment, if you will allow me." 
 After awhile, during which flattie moved from 
 one foot to another in her impatience, he drew forth 
 a sovereign and laid it on the counter. 
 
 " We're short of change, sir — if you have any- 
 thing smaller " 
 
 " Nothing smaller, I am compelled to say, !Miss." 
 Mattie hesitated. Under other circumstances, 
 she would have left her shop, ran into the pork- 
 butcher's next door, and procm'ed change, after 
 a hint to Harriet to look to the business ; but she 
 detected the ruse of the prowler, and was not to be 
 outwitted. She opened her till again, and found 
 fom'teen shillings in silver — represented by a pre-
 
 144 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 ponderance of threepenny pieces, but that was of no 
 consequence, save that it took him longer to count — 
 and from a lower di'awer she drew forth one of 
 many five-shilling packets of coppers, which pawn- 
 brokers and publicans on Saturday nights were 
 glad to give Mr. Wesden silver for, and laid it 
 dow^n with a hea^'y dab on the counter. 
 
 " What— what's that ?" he ejaculated. 
 
 "That's ha'pence — that's all the change we've 
 got — and I can't leave the shop," said Mattie, 
 briskly. "You can give me my cigars back and get 
 change for yourself, if you don't like it." 
 
 " Thank you," w^as the suave answ^er, " I was 
 not thinking much about the change. If you will 
 buy yourself a new bonnet with it, you will be con- 
 ferring a favour upon me." 
 
 " And what favour will you w^ant back ?" asked 
 Mattie, quickly. 
 
 "Oh! I will leave that to time and your kindness 
 — come, will you take it and be friends with me 1 
 I want a friend in this quarter very much." 
 
 He pushed the silver and the cumbrous packet 
 of coppers towards her. He was inclined to be
 
 THE XEW ESTATE. 145 
 
 liberal. He remembered how many he had dazzled 
 m his time by his profuse munificence. Money he 
 had never studied in his life, and by the strange 
 rule of contraries, he had had plenty of it. 
 
 Mattie was impulsive — even passionate, and the 
 effort to corrupt her allegiance to the Wesdens 
 fired her blood to a degree that she even wondered 
 at herself shortly afterwards. 
 
 " Take yourself out of this shop, you bad man," 
 she cried, " and your trumpery change too ! Be 
 off with you before I call a policeman, or throw 
 something at you — you great big coward, to be 
 always coming here insulting us !" 
 
 With her impatient hands she swept the money 
 off the counter, five-shilling packet of coppers and 
 all, which fell with a crash, and disgorged its con- 
 tents on the floor. 
 
 " What — what do you mean ?" stammered the 
 prowler. 
 
 " I mean that it's no good you're coming here, 
 and that nobody wants to see you here again, and 
 that I'll set the policeman on you next time you 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 give me any of your impudence. Get out with 
 you, you coward!" 
 
 Mattie thought her one threat of a policeman 
 sufficient ; she had still a great reverence for that 
 official personage, and believed that his very name 
 must strike terror to guilty hearts. The effect up- 
 on her auditor led her to believe that she had been 
 successful ; but he was only alarmed at Mattie's 
 loud voice, and the stoppage of two boys and a 
 woman at the door. 
 
 " I — I don't know what you mean — you're mad," 
 he muttered, and then slunk out of the shop, leav- 
 ing his cumbrous change for a sovereign spread 
 over the stationer's floor. Mattie went round the 
 counter and collected the debris of mammon, minus 
 one threepenny piece which she could not discern 
 anywhere, but which Mr. Wesden, toiling under 
 his monthly parcel, detected in one corner imme- 
 diately upon his entrance. 
 
 "Why, Mattie, what's this? — money — on the 
 floorr 
 
 " A gentleman dropped his change, sir."
 
 THE NEAV ESTATE. 147 
 
 " Put it on the slielf, he'll be back for it pre- 
 sently." 
 
 " No, I don't think he will," was Mattie's dry 
 response. 
 
 l2
 
 148 MATTIE : A STKAY. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 PERSEVERANCE. 
 
 Mattie in lier self-conceit imagined that she had 
 frightened the prowler from Great Suffolk Street ; 
 in lieu thereof, she had only deterred him from 
 entering a second appearance on the premises. 
 He had made a false move, and reaped the bitter 
 consequence. He must be more wary, if he built 
 upon making an impression on Harriet Wesden's 
 heart — more cautious, more of a strategist. So he 
 continued to prowl at a distance, and to watch his 
 opportunity from the same point of view. Pre- 
 sently it would come, and with the advantage of 
 his winning tongue, which could roll off elegant 
 phrases by the yard, he tiiisted to make an im- 
 pression on a shopkeeper's daughter.
 
 THE NEW ESTATE. 149 
 
 For a moment, and after his rebuff, he had 
 hesitated as to the ex^^ediency of continuing the 
 siege ; but his pride was aroused ; it was an un- 
 pleasant end to his plans, and the chance had not 
 presented itself yet of trying his fortune wath 
 Miss Wesden herself. Presently the horn- would 
 come; he did not despair yet ; he bided his time 
 with great patience. 
 
 The time came a fortnight after that little inci- 
 dent in the Suffolk Street shop. Harriet Wesden 
 was coming down the Borough towards home one 
 wet night when he accosted her. It was getting 
 late for one thing, and rainy for another, and 
 Harriet was makino^ all the haste home that she 
 
 CD 
 
 could, when he made her heart leap into her 
 throat by his sudden " Good evening, Miss." 
 
 One glance at him, the nipping of a little 
 scream in the bud, and then she increased her pace, 
 the prowler keeping step with her. 
 
 "Will you favour me by accepting half my 
 umbrella, Miss Wesden — for one instant then, 
 whilst I venture to explain what may seem con- 
 duct the reverse of gentlemanly to youl"
 
 150 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 " No, sir, I wish to hear nothing — I wish to be 
 left alone." 
 
 " I have been very rude — -I will ask your pardon, 
 Miss Wesden, very humbly. But let me beg of 
 you to listen to this explanation of my con- 
 duct." 
 
 " There is nothing to explain, sir." 
 
 " Pardon me, but there is. Pardon me, but this 
 is not the way you would have treated Mr. Darcy 
 had he been in my place." 
 
 Harriet gasped for breath. !Mr. Darcy, the 
 hero of her Brighton folly, the name which she 
 had never confessed to a living soul, the only man 
 in the world who she thought could have taunted 
 her with indiscretion, and of being weak and frivo- 
 lous rather than a rude and forward girl! Harriet 
 did not reply ; she looked at him closely, almost 
 tremblingly, and then continued her hurried pro- 
 gress homewards ; the prowler, seeing his advan- 
 tage, maintained his position by her side, keeping 
 the umbrella over her. 
 
 " Mr. Darcy was an intimate friend of mine 
 before he went to India; we were together at
 
 THE NEW ESTATE. 151 
 
 Brighton, Miss Wesden — more than once he has 
 mentioned your name to me." 
 
 " Indeed," she murmured. 
 
 "You would like to hear that he is well, 
 perhaps." 
 
 " I am glad to hear that," Miss Wesden ven- 
 tured to remark. 
 
 " He ^is in India still — I believe will remain 
 there, marry and settle down there for good." 
 
 " Have you been watching my house to tell me 
 this?" 
 
 " Partly, and partly for other reasons, for which 
 I have a better excuse. I have been a w^anderer 
 — in search of happiness many years, and for the 
 first time in a life not unadventurous there crosses 
 
 my 
 
 ^' Good evening, sir — I have been entrapped 
 into a conversation — I must beg you to leave me." 
 
 Harriet set off at the double again — in double 
 quick time w^ent the prowler after her. 
 
 People abroad that night began to notice the 
 agitated girl, and the tall man riiarching on at her 
 side, who, in his eagerness to keep step, trod on
 
 152 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 people's feet, and sent one doctor's boy, basket and 
 bottles, crunching against a lamp-post ; one or two 
 stopped and looked after them and then continued 
 their way — it was a race between the prowler and 
 his victim, the prowler making a dead heat of it. 
 
 Harriet gave in at last — her spirit was not a 
 very strong one, and she stopped and burst into 
 tears. 
 
 ^^Sir, will you leave me? — will you believe that I 
 don't want to hear a single word of your reasons 
 for thus persecuting me f 
 
 " Miss Wesden, only allow^ me to explain, and I 
 will go my way and never see you more. I will 
 A'anish away in the darkness, and let all the bright 
 hopes I have fostered float away on the cuiTent 
 which bears you away from me." 
 
 '' Go, pray do go, if you are a gentleman. I 
 must appeal to some one for protection, if you " 
 
 " Miss Wesden, you must hear me — you shall 
 hear me. I am not a child ; 1 am " 
 
 " A scoundrel, evidently," said a hai'sh voice in 
 his ears, and the instant afterwards Sidney Hinch- 
 ford, with two fiery eyes behind his spectacles,
 
 THE NEW ESTATE. 153 
 
 stood between him and the girl he was persecuting. 
 Harriet, mth a little cry of joy, clung to the arm 
 of her deliverer; the pro^^'ler looked perplexed, 
 then put the best face upon the "matter that he could 
 extemporize for the occasion. 
 
 " Who are you, sir ?" was the truly English ex- 
 pletive. 
 
 " My name is Hinchf ord — my address is at your 
 service, if you wish it. Xow, sir, yoiu' name — and 
 business f 
 
 " I decline to give it." 
 
 " You have insulted this lady, a friend of mine. 
 Apologize," cried young Hinchford, in much such 
 a tone as an irritable officer summons his company 
 to shoulder arms. 
 
 ^'Sir, your tone is not calculated to induce me to 
 oblige you. If ]\Iiss Wesden thinks that I " 
 
 "Apologize!" shouted Hinchford, a second 
 time. He had forgotten the respect due to his 
 charge, and shaken her hand from his arm ; he 
 was making a little scene in the street, and con- 
 ATilsing Harriet with fright ; he was face to face 
 with the prowler, his tall, well-knit form, evidently
 
 154 MATTIE : A STKAY. 
 
 a match for his antagonist ; he was chivalrous, and 
 scarcely twenty years of age ; above all, he was in a 
 towering passion, and verged a little on the bur- 
 lesque, as passionate people generally do. 
 
 As if by the touch of a magic wand, a crowd 
 sprang up around them; respectable passers-by, 
 the pickets of the Kent Street gang on duty in the 
 Borough, unwashed men and women who had 
 been seeking shelter under shop-blinds, the doctor's 
 boy, who had been maltreated and had a claim to 
 urge for damages, a fish-w^oman, two tradesmen 
 with their aprons on fresh from business, and 
 shoals of boys wdio might have dropped from 
 heaven, so suddenly did they take up the best 
 places, and assume an interest in the adventure. 
 
 The prowler turned pale, and flinched a little 
 as Sidney approached, flinched more as the audi- 
 ence seized the thread of discussion and expressed 
 its comments more vociferously. 
 
 "Punch his head if he don't 'pologize, sir — 
 throw him into the mud, sir — I'd cure him of 
 coming after my gal — knock the bloke's hat off, 
 and jump on it — lock him up!"
 
 THE NEW ESTATE. 155 
 
 The prowler saw liis danger ; he had heard a 
 great deal of the mercies of a London mob, and it 
 was hemming him in now — and, like most men of 
 the prowling class, he was at heart a coward. He 
 succumbed. 
 
 " I never intended to insult the lady — if I have 
 uttered a word to offend her, I am very sorry. It 
 is all a misconception. But if the lady considers 
 that I have taken a liberty in offering — in offering," 
 he repeated, rather disturbed in his harangue by a 
 violent shove from behind on to the unhappy doc- 
 tor's boy, upon whose feet he alighted, "a common 
 courtesy, I apologise with all my heart. I " 
 
 ^' That will do, sir," was the curt response; " you 
 have had a narrow escape. Take it as a lesson." 
 
 Sidney was glad to back out of the absurd posi- 
 tion into which he had thrust Harriet, to draw her 
 hand through his arm and hasten away, offering a 
 a hundred excuses to her for his imprudence and 
 impulsiveness. 
 
 He had not moved twenty yards with her when 
 the yell of the mob — and the mob in that end of 
 London possesses the finest blood-curdling yell in
 
 156 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 the world — startled him and all within half a mile 
 of him. It was a dull night, and the wild elements 
 of street life were fond of novelty ; a swell had 
 been caught insulting a British female in distress, 
 and the unwashed hates swells like poison. An 
 apology was not sufficient for the lookers-on ; pros- 
 tration on bended knees and hands outstretched 
 would not have done ; sackcloth and ashes vowed 
 for the remainder of the delinquent's existence, 
 w^ould have been treated with contumely — all 
 that was wanted was an uproar. The boys wanted 
 an uproar because it was natural to them; the re- 
 presentatives of Kent Street, because it was in the 
 way of trade, and one or two respectable gents 
 had become interested in the dispute, and wore 
 watch-chains ; the women, because ^'hehud not been 
 sarved out as he desarved, the wretch!" 
 
 So the prowler, backing out of the crowd, met 
 with a sledge-hammer liand upon his hat, and 
 found his hat off, and mud in his face, and then 
 fists, and finally an upheaving of the whole mass 
 towards him, sending him into the roadway like a 
 shell from an Ai'mstrong gun. There was no help
 
 THE NEW ESTATE. 157 
 
 for It, the prowler must run, and inin he did, pur- 
 sued by the terrible mob and that more terrible 
 yell which woke up every recess in the Borough ; 
 and in this fashion the pursuer and the pursued 
 sped down the muddy road towards the Elephant 
 and Castle. 
 
 An empty Hansom cab offered itself to the 
 runaway ; he leaped in whilst it was being slowly 
 driven down the Borough, and dashed his fist 
 through the trap. 
 
 " Drive fast — double fare — Keform !" 
 
 The Hansom rattled off, the mob uttered one 
 more despairing yell, and, after a slight abortive 
 effort, gave up the chase, and left the prowler to 
 his repentance. 
 
 And he did repent of mixing with life "over the 
 water," — for Great Suffolk Street never saw him 
 again.
 
 158 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 CHAPTER YI. 
 
 " Oh ! Harriet, I am very sorry," burst forth 
 Sidney, when the noise had died away, and Harriet 
 Wesden, pale and silent, walked on by his side with 
 her trembling hand upon his arm. 
 
 Harriet did not reply — her dignity had been out- 
 raged, and his defence had not greatly assisted her 
 composure, though it had answered the purpose for 
 which it was intended. 
 
 Sidney gulped down a lump in his throat, and 
 glanced at the pretty, agitated face. 
 
 " You are offended with me — well, I deserve it. 
 I'm a beast." 
 
 This self-depreciatory verdict having consoled 
 him, and elicited no response from Harriet, he con- 
 tinued.
 
 THE NEW ESTATE. 159 
 
 " I acted like a fool ; I should have taken it 
 coolly; why, he was more the gentleman of the two, 
 scamp as he was. By George, I was near smash- 
 ing him, though ! Harriet," with eagerness, " you 
 will look over my outburst. You're not so very 
 much offended, are you f 
 
 "No, I'm not offended, only the mob frightened 
 me, and you were very violent. I don't know what 
 else you could have done." 
 
 " Knocked him down and walked on, or given 
 him in charge ; knocked him down quietly woidd 
 have been the most satisfactory method. How did 
 it begin f ' 
 
 " He followed and spoke to me. He has been 
 hanging about the house for weeks." 
 
 " The dev — I beg pardon — has he though f 
 
 Sidney Hinchford walked on ; he had become 
 suddenly thoughtful. More strongly than ever it 
 recurred to him what a mistake he had made in not 
 knocking down the prowler in a quiet and graceful 
 manner. 
 
 " !Mattie has noticed it, and spoken to him about 
 it, but he would not go away."
 
 160 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 "Did he ever speak to you before to-night." 
 
 "Never." 
 
 " He's a great blackguard !" Sidney blurted 
 forth : "but there's an end of him. He'll not 
 trouble you any more, Harriet ; he did not know 
 that you had a big brother to take care of you. 
 These sorts of fellows object to big brothers — 
 they're in the way so much." 
 
 "Yes, I suppose so." 
 
 " You ouorhtn't to o;o out at this time of nio^ht 
 alone," he added after awhile ; " it isn't exactly the 
 thing, you know." 
 
 " No one spoke to me before." 
 
 " N — no, but it is not what 1 call proper." 
 
 "What you call proper, Mr. Hinchford! — I'm 
 sure I — " 
 
 " I beg pardon ; of course anything that I — I 
 think proper, is of no consequence to you. It's only 
 my way of speaking out — rather too plainly. I offend 
 the clerks in the office at times and — and of course 
 it's no business of mine, Harriet, although I did 
 hope once that — that it would be. Tliere !" 
 
 Harriet saw what was coming, or rather what
 
 THE NEW ESTATE. 161 
 
 had come. She was alarmed, although this was 
 not her first offer, and the bloom of novelty had 
 been lightly brushed off by that boarding-school 
 folly of which she felt more ashamed every day. 
 She began walking very fast, in much the same 
 way from his passionate words as she had done 
 from the frothy vapidity of that man, extinguished 
 for ever. 
 
 Sidney walked on with her ; her hand was sliding 
 from his arm when he made a clutch at it, and held 
 it rather firmly. He went at his love affairs in a 
 straightforward manner — his earnestness making 
 up for his lack of eloquence. 
 
 " I know I've done it !" he said ; " I know I should 
 have kept this back a year or two — perhaps alto- 
 gether — but it wouldn't answer, and it has made 
 me miserable, out of sorts, and an enigma to the old 
 dad. I'm only just twenty — of no position yet, but 
 with a great hope to make one — I'm sure that I 
 shall love you all my life, and never be happy with- 
 out you — can you put up with a fellow like me, 
 and say I may hope to teach you to love me some 
 dayl" 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 1 62 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 A strange fear beset Harriet — a fear of answer- 
 ing before the whirl of events had given her time 
 to consider. She had never seriously thought of 
 pledging herself to him ; though her woman's quick- 
 ness had guessed at his secret long since, she had 
 never dreamed of him or felt her heart beat for him, 
 as for that first love who had won her girl's fancy, 
 and then faded away like a dream-figure. She was 
 agitated from the preceding events of that night, 
 and now, in an unlucky moment, he added to her 
 embarrassment and made her brain whirl — she 
 was scarcely herself, and did not answer like 
 herself. 
 
 "Let go my hand, sir — let me go home — I don't 
 want to hear any more !" 
 
 " Very well," he answered ; and was silent the 
 rest of the way home — lea\ang her without a word 
 in the shop, and passing through that side door 
 reserved for the Hinchfords for the last thirteen 
 years. Harriet, trembling and excited, almost 
 stumbled into the back parlour, and began to sob 
 forth a part of the adventures of that evening. Sid- 
 ney, like the ghost of himself, stalked into the first-
 
 THE NEW ESTATE. 163 
 
 floor front, where his father was keeping a late tea 
 for him. 
 
 The anxious eyes of the father glanced from under 
 the bushy white brows ; he was a student of human 
 nature, so far as his son was concerned at least. 
 
 ^^ An3i:hing ■s\Tong, Sid ?" 
 
 " N — no," was the hesitative answer. 
 
 " You look troubled." 
 
 ^' I'm tired — dead beat." 
 
 "Let us get on with the tea, then," he said 
 assuming a cheery voice ; " here's the Times, 
 Sid." 
 
 " I have read it," was the hollow answer. 
 
 '^ Oh ! I haven't— any news ?" 
 
 " Tea gone up with a rush, I believe." 
 
 " Ah ! good for the firm, I hope." 
 
 " Believe so — don't know. Phew! how infernally 
 hot this room gets !" 
 
 Mr. Hinchford hazarded no more remarks — the 
 curt replies of his son were sufficient indication of a 
 reluctance to attend to him. He set out the tea- 
 table, and superintended the duties thereof in a 
 grave, fatherly manner, glancing askance at his son 
 
 M 2
 
 KM MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 over the rim of his tea-cup. Sidney was in a mood 
 that troubled the sire — for it was an unusual mood, 
 and suggested something very much out of the 
 way. 
 
 After tea, Sidney would compose himself and 
 relate what had happened in the City to disturb 
 him, and led him to respond churlishly to the old 
 father, who had never given him a cross word in 
 his life. He would wait Sidney's good time — there 
 was no good hurrying the lad. 
 
 These two were something more than father and 
 son ; their long companionship together, unbroken 
 upon by other ties, had engendered a concentrative 
 affection which was a little out of the common — 
 which more resembled in some respects the love 
 existent between a good mother and daughter. 
 They were friends, confidants, inseparable com- 
 panions as well. The son's ambition was the 
 father's, and all that interested and influenced the 
 one equally affected the other. Sidney had made 
 no friends from the counting-house or warehouse 
 clerks ; they were not '' his sort," and he shunned 
 their acquaintance. He was a young man of an
 
 THE NEW ESTATE. 165 
 
 unusual pattern, a trifle more grave than his years 
 warranted, and endued with more forethought than 
 the whole business put together. He looked at 
 life sternly — too sternly for his years — and his soul 
 was absorbed in rising to a good position therein, 
 for his father's sake as well as his own. His 
 father was growing old ; his memory was not so 
 good as it used to be ; Sid fancied that the time 
 would shortly come when the builders would discover 
 his father's defects, dismiss him with a week's 
 salary, and find a younger and sharper man to 
 supply his place. That was simply business in a 
 commercial house ; but it was death to the in- 
 capables, TNhom sharp practice swept out of the 
 way. Sidney felt that he had no time to lose; 
 that there must come a day when his father's 
 position would depend upon himself; when he 
 should have to work for both, as his father had 
 worked for him when he was young and helpless 
 and troublesome. Sidney's employers were kind, 
 more than that, they were deeply interested in the 
 strange specimen of a young man who worked 
 hard, objected to holidaj^s, and took work home
 
 166 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 with him when there was a pressure on the iSrm ; 
 he was honest, energetic and truthful, and a ser- 
 vant with those requisites is always w^orth his 
 weight in gold. They had conferred together, and 
 resolved to make a partner of him in due course, 
 when he w^as of age^ or when he was five-and- 
 twenty ; and Sidney, though he had never been 
 informed of their intentions, guessed it by some 
 quick instinct, read it in their faces, and believed 
 that good luck would fall to his share some day. 
 Still he never spoke of his hopes, save once to his 
 father in a weak moment, of which he ever after 
 repented, for his father was of a more sanguine 
 nature, and inclined to build his castles too rapidly. 
 Sidney knew the uncertainties of life — more espe- 
 cially of city life — and he proceeded quietly on his 
 way, keeping his hopes under pressure, and talking 
 and thinking like a clerk in the City w^ho never 
 expected to reach higher than two or three hundred 
 a year. 
 
 Yet with all his prudence he was, singular to 
 relate, not of a reticent nature ; he was a young 
 man who spoke out, and hated mystery or suspense.
 
 THE NEW ESTATE. 167 
 
 Possibly in this last instance he had spoken out 
 too quickly for Harriet Wesden ; and though sus- 
 pense was over, he did not feel pleased with his 
 tactics of that particular evening. And he icas 
 inclined to keep back all the unpleasant reminis- 
 cences of that night, sink them for ever in the 
 waters of oblivion, and never let a soul know what 
 an ass he had made of himself. It was his first 
 imprudence, and he was aggrieved at it ; he had 
 given way to impulse, and suffered his love to 
 escape at an unpropitious moment — his ears 
 burned to think of all the folly which he had 
 committed. 
 
 In a bad temper — he who was generally so calm 
 and equable — he took his tea, and shunned his 
 father's inspection by turning his back upon him. 
 After a while he took up the Times, which he 
 had previously declined, and feigned an interest 
 in the " Want Places." Mattie came in and out 
 of the room with the hot water, &c. ; she waited 
 on the Hinchfords when Ann of all work was 
 weak in the ankles, which was of frequent occur- 
 rence. !Mattie made herself generally useful, and
 
 168 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 rather liked trouble than not. AYith a multiplicity 
 of tasks on her mind, she was always more cheer- 
 ful ; it was only when there was nothing to do that 
 her face assumed a sternness of expression as if 
 the shadow of her early days were settlins^ there. 
 
 Mattie, bustling to and fro in attendance upon 
 the Hinchfords, observed all and said nothing, like 
 a sensible girl. She was quick enough to see that 
 something unusual had happened above stairs as 
 well as belowj and her interest was as great in 
 these two friends — and helpers — as in the Wesdens. 
 She w^ould have everybody happy in that house — 
 it had been a lucky house for her, and it should 
 be for all in it, if she possessed the power to make 
 it so ! 
 
 She saw that one trouble had come at least ; and 
 looking intently at Sidney's grim face — she had 
 busied herself with the bread and butter plate to 
 get a good look at it — she read its story more 
 plainly than he would have liked. 
 
 Outside the door she paused and put " this and 
 that together" — this in the drawing-room, and that 
 in the parlour, and jumped at once at the right
 
 THE XEW ESTATE. 169 
 
 conclusion, with a rapidity that did infinite credit 
 to her seventeen years. Seventeen years then, and 
 rather shorter than ever, if that were possible. 
 
 " He has been courting Hamet — I know he 
 has !" she said ; ^' and Harriet's been in a tantrum, 
 and said something to cross him — that's it ! " 
 
 She missed a step and shook up the tea-things 
 that she was cariying down-stairs. This recalled 
 her to the duties of her situation. 
 
 " One thing at a time, Mattie, my dear," she 
 said, in a patronizing way to herself, as she de- 
 scended to the lower regions. In those lower re- 
 gions poor Ann Packet created another divergence 
 of thought. Ann's ankles continued to swell — she 
 had been much on her feet during the last heavy 
 wash, and the gloomy thought had stolen to her, 
 that her new calamity — she was a woman born for 
 calamities — would end in the hospital. 
 
 This idea having just seized her, she communi- 
 cated it at once to Mattie, upon her re-appearance 
 in the kitchen. 
 
 " Mattie," said Ann, lugubriously, " I've been a 
 good friend to you, all my life — ain't I ?"
 
 170 MATTIE : A STEAY. 
 
 " To be sure you have," was the quick answer. 
 
 " When you came here first, a reg'lar young rip, 
 I took to 3^ou, taught you what was tidiness, w^hich 
 you didn't know any more than the babe unborn, 
 did you f 
 
 "Not much more — don't you feel so well to- 
 night, Ann?" 
 
 " Much wus — I'm only forty, and my legs 
 oughtn't to go at that age." 
 
 ^^ No, and they won't." 
 
 " Wont they?" was the ironical answer; ^'but they 
 will — but they has ! Oh ! Mattie gal, you'll come 
 and see me at St. Tummas's f 
 
 " Ann Packet," said Mattie gravely, " this won't 
 do. You're getting your old horrors again, and 
 you're full of fancies, and your ankles are not half 
 so bad as you think they are. I know what you 
 want." 
 
 " What r 
 
 " A good shaking," laughed Mattie, " that's 
 all." 
 
 " Oh ! you unnat'ral child !" 
 
 " Well, the unnat'ral child will ask Mr. Wesden
 
 THE XEW ESTATE. 171 
 
 if she may keep out of the shop to-night, and bring 
 a book downstairs to read to you, over your needle- 
 work. But if you don't work I shan't read, Ann 
 — is it a bargain f 
 
 " You're alius imperent ; but get the book, if 
 master '11 let you. Oh! how they do shoot !" 
 
 Mattie obtained permission, brought down a book 
 from the store, and sat down to read to honest Ann. 
 Slie had made a good choice, and Ann was soon 
 interested, forgot her ailments, and stitched away 
 with excitable rapidity. Mattie had no time for 
 thoughts of her own, or the new mystery above- 
 stairs till the supper hour. She read on till the 
 Hinchf ord bell rang once more ; then she closed the 
 book, and met with her reward in Ann's large red 
 hand falling heavily, yet affectionately, on her 
 shoulder. 
 
 " Thankee, Mattie. I'll do as much for you 
 some day, gal." 
 
 " When you can spell, or when I've gouty ankles, 
 Ann?" 
 
 "Ah I get out with you! — I'm only fit for making 
 game on, you think. I'm a poor woman, who never
 
 172 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 had the time to larn to read, and the likes of you 
 can laugh at me." 
 
 ^' No — only try to make you laugh, Ann. You're 
 not cross ?" 
 
 " God bless you ! — not I," she ejaculated spas- 
 modically. " There, go about you.r work, and don't 
 think anything of what an old fool like me talks 
 about." 
 
 Mattie busied herself with the supper tray, the 
 bread, cheese, knives and plates, and then bore them 
 away in her strong arms ; Ann watched her out of 
 the room, and then produced an indifferently clean 
 cotton handkerchief, with which she wiped her eyes 
 and blew her nose. 
 
 " To think how that gal has altered since she first 
 came here, a little ragged thing," soliloquized Ann, 
 " a gal who sheered you with the wulgar words 
 she'd picked up in the streets, and was so awful 
 ignorant, you blushed for her. And now the 
 briskiest and best of gals ; if I don't spend all my 
 money in doctors stuff afore I die, that Mattie 
 shall have every penny of it. It's in my will 
 so ; they put it down in black and white for me,
 
 THE NEW ESTATE. 173 
 
 and she'll never know it till I'm — I'm gone ! " 
 A prospect that caused Ann Packet to weep 
 afresh ; a dismal, but a soft-hearted woman, who 
 had passed through life with no one to love, until 
 she met with the stray. She was a stray herself, 
 picked up at the workhouse gate, to the disgust of 
 the relieving officer, and turned out to ser^dce as 
 soon as she could walk and talk, and a mistress be 
 found for her — lonely in the world herself, she had, 
 when the time came round, taken to one more for- 
 lorn and friendless than ever she had been. And 
 she had left her all her money — fourteen pounds, 
 seven and sevenpence, put out at interest, two and 
 seven eighths, in the Finsbmy Savings Bank, 
 whither her ankles refused to carry her to get her 
 book made up, another trouble at that time which 
 kept her mind unsettled.
 
 174 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 CONFIDENCE. 
 
 Whilst Mattie read to her fellow-workman, con- 
 solation was also bein^ attempted in the drawing- 
 room that she had quitted. Consolation attempted 
 by the father after awhile to his son. 
 
 After awhile, for an hour ]3assed before a word 
 was exchanged, and Sidney Hinchford still held the 
 newspaper before him, staring at it, without compre- 
 hending a word. A singular position for him to 
 adopt ; a youth of twenty, Avho never w^asted time, 
 who had alwa3's something on his hands to fill up 
 his evenings at home, who was very often too busy 
 to play backgammon with his father. 
 
 That father was troubled ; his heart was in his 
 son's peace of mind ; there was nothing that he 
 would not have sacrificed for it, had it lain in his
 
 THE NEW ESTATE. 175 
 
 power. His pride was in his son's advancement, 
 his son's abihty, and he fancied that a great trouble 
 had occurred at the business to change the scene in 
 which both played their parts. He was less strong- 
 minded and more nervous than he had been four 
 years ago, and so less affected him. 
 
 When the hour had passed, and he had grown 
 tired of Sidney's silence, he said, with something 
 of his son's straightforwardness, 
 
 "What's the matter, Sid?" 
 
 Sidney crumpled the paper in his hands, and 
 flung it on the table ; he was tired, even a little 
 ashamed of his sullen deportment. 
 
 " A matter that I ought to keep to myself, it 
 being a foolish one, su'," he answered; "but, if you 
 wish, I will relate it." 
 
 " If you wish, Sid," was the courteous answer ; 
 " I have no wish to hear anything that you would 
 desire to keep back from me. If you think I can 
 be of no use to you, give you no advice, offer no 
 consolation that you may think worthy of accept- 
 ance, and if," with a verv' wdstful glance towards 
 him, " you consider it a matter that concerns voui'-
 
 17G MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 self alone, why I — I don't wish to intinide upon 
 your confidence." 
 
 "I dou t think that we have had any secrets from 
 each other yet; I don't see any reason wdiy w^e 
 should begin to get mysterious, father," Sidney re- 
 plied ; " and so, here's the full, true, and particular 
 account." 
 
 Mr. Hinchford edged his chair nearer to his son, 
 the son turned and looked his father in the face, 
 blushing just a little at the beginning of his narra- 
 tive. 
 
 ''It's an odd thing for one man to tell another," 
 he said quickly, " but it's what you ought to know, 
 and though it makes me wince a little, it's soon 
 over. I've been thinking of engaging myself 
 to " 
 
 " Not to another firm, Sid — now f cried the 
 father, as he paused. 
 
 "To Harriet Wesden, downstairs." 
 
 " God bless me !" 
 
 ]Mi\ Hinchford passed his hands through his 
 scanty white hairs, stroked his moustache, blew at an 
 imaginary something in the air, loosened his stock.
 
 THE NEW ESTATE. 177 
 
 and gasped a little. His son engaging himself to 
 be married was a new element to perplex him ; he 
 had never believed in human nature, or the Hinch- 
 ford nature, taking that turn for years and years. 
 Once or tvrice he had thought that his careful son 
 might some day look around him and marry icell ; 
 but that at twenty years of age he should have 
 fallen in love, was a miracle that took some minutes 
 to believe in. 
 
 "Well," he said at last. 
 
 "I should have said, father, that I had been 
 thinking of an engagement — a long one to end in 
 a happy marriage, when there was fair sailing 
 for all of us — and that my thoughts found words 
 when I least expected them, and surprised Harriet 
 by their suddenness. I told her I loved her, and 
 she told me that she didn't — and there's an end of 
 it ! We need not speak of the affair again, you 
 know." 
 
 " ' And that she didn't !' " quoted the father, 
 " why, that's more amazing still !" 
 
 "On the contrary, that is the most natural part 
 of it." 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 178 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 " And she really said — " 
 
 " She said that she did not want any more of my 
 jaw — rather more elegantly expressed, but that is 
 what she meant. Well, I was a fool !" 
 
 Mr.Hinchfordsat and reflected, becoming graver 
 every instant. He did not attempt to make light 
 of the story, to treat it as one of those trifles ' light 
 as air,' which a breath would disperse. His son's 
 was neither a frivolous nor a romantic nature, and 
 he treated even his twenty years with respect. Mr. 
 Hinchford was astonished also at his own short- 
 sightedness ; the strangeness of this love passage 
 darting across the monotony of his quiet way, with- 
 out a flash from the danger signal by way of hint 
 at its approach. He saw how it was to end, very 
 clearly now, he thought ; Harriet Wesden and his 
 son would contract an early engagement, marry in 
 haste, and cut him off by a flank movement, from 
 his son's society. He saw the new loves replacing 
 the old, and himself, white-haired and feeble, iso- 
 lated from the boy to whom his heart yearned. He 
 scarcely knew how he had idolized his son, until 
 the revelation of this night. Still he was one
 
 THE NEW ESTATE. 179 
 
 of the least selfish men in the world ; Sidney's hap- 
 piness first, and then the thought how best to pro- 
 mote his o^Ti. 
 
 After a few more questions and answers, Mr. 
 Hinchford mastered the position of affairs. Har- 
 riet Wesden loved his boy — that was a certainty, 
 and to be expected — and her timid embarrass- 
 ment at Sid's sudden proposal, and her nervous 
 escape from it, were but natural in that sex which 
 poor Sid knew so little concerning. And the 
 Wesden s, i^ere et mere, why, they would be proud 
 of the match ; for Sid's abilities would make a 
 gentleman of him, and Sid in good time — all in 
 good time — would raise the stationer's daughter to 
 a position, of which she might w^ell be proud ! He 
 liked the Wesden s, but heigho I — he had looked 
 forward to his boy doing better in the world, find- 
 ing a wife more suitable for him in the future. 
 
 It was all plain enough, but he furbished up his 
 philosophy, nevertheless — that odd philosophy which 
 at variance with his brighter thoughts, sought to 
 prepare those to whom it appealed for the worst 
 that might happen. He looked at the worst aspect 
 
 N 2
 
 180 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 of things, whilst his heart had not a doubt of the 
 best ; he would have prepared all the world for the 
 keenest disappointments, and been the man to give 
 way most, and to be the most astounded at the 
 result, had his prophecies come true. Years ago he 
 foretold Mattie's ingratitude and duplicity in return 
 for his patronage ; but he had not believed a word 
 of his forebodings. He had told his son not to 
 build upon so improbable a thing as a partnership 
 with his employers at so early an age ; but he was 
 more feverishly expectant than his son, and so positive 
 that his son's abilities would be thus rewarded, that 
 his pride had expanded of late years, and he talked 
 more like the rich man he had been once himself. 
 
 ^Ir. Hinchford prepared his son for the worst 
 that evening ; and the son, knowing his character, 
 felt a shadow removed at every dismal conjecture 
 as to how the little love affair would terminate. 
 
 " You can't let it rest here, however bad it may 
 turn out, Sid." 
 
 " No, of course not." 
 
 " You must see Harriet's father in the morning, 
 and make a clean breast of it ; and then if he turn
 
 THE NEW ESTATE. 181 
 
 you off with a short word — feeling himself a rich 
 man, and above the connection — why, you ^Yill put 
 up with it gravely, and like a Hinchford. There 
 are a great many things against your chances, my 
 boy." 
 
 " We're both too young, perhaps," suggested Sid- 
 ney, more dolefully. 
 
 " Years too young," was the reply ; " and people 
 have unpleasant habits of changing their minds — 
 and then what a fix it would be, Sid ! Why, Harriet 
 Wesden's not eighteen till next month — quite a 
 child !" 
 
 " No, I'm hanged if she is !" burst forth Sidney. 
 
 " Well then, you're but a boy, after all ; and 
 these long and early engagements are bad things for 
 both. But still as it has come, you must speak to the 
 old people ; and if they have no objection — which 
 I think they will have — and Harriet is inclined to 
 accept you — which I think she isn't — why, make 
 the best of it, work on in the old sure and steady 
 fashion — you're worth waiting for, my lad." 
 
 "" Thank you, dad," was the reply; "you're very 
 kind, but your opinion of me is not the world's.
 
 182 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 I'm a cross-grained, unforgiving, disagreeable per- 
 son — there !" 
 
 "In your enemy's estimation — but your friends?" 
 
 " I don't know that I have any." 
 
 " Oh ! we shall see — and if you have not any 
 abroad," he added, " you must put up with the old 
 one at home, Sid." 
 
 " He will put up with me, I hope ; he w^ll re- 
 member that I have only him yet awhile to tell 
 niy hopes and fears to, standing in the place of the 
 mother." 
 
 " Ah ! the good mother, lost so early to us ! — she 
 should have heard this story, Sid." 
 
 The old man snatched up the paper and began 
 reading ; the son turned to his own work at last, 
 and was soon buried in accounts. But the paper 
 was uninteresting, and the accounts foggy ; after 
 awhile both gave it up, and talked again of the 
 old subject. Sid's full heart overflowed that night, 
 and his reticence belonged not to it ; he was sure 
 of sympathy with his feelings, and had the mother 
 — ever a gentle and dear listener — been at his side, 
 he could not have more fully dwelt upon the love
 
 THE NEW ESTATE. 183 
 
 which had troubled him so long, and which he had 
 kept so well concealed. It had grown with his 
 growth ; Harriet's playfellow, Harriet's brother, 
 finally Harriet's lover. Page after page, chapter 
 after chapter of the story which begins ever the 
 same, and only darts off at a tangent when the 
 crisis, such as his, comes in due course, to end in 
 various ways — ^happily, deplorably — in the sunshine 
 of comedy, the mystery of melo-drama, the dark- 
 ness of tragedy, taking its hues from the " sur- 
 roundings," and giving us poor scribes no end of 
 subjects to write upon. 
 
 Mr. Hinchford was a patient listener ; other 
 men might have been wearied by the romantic side 
 to a love sick youth's character ; but Sid was a 
 part of himself, and he had no ambition, no hope 
 in which his son did not stand in the foreground, 
 a bright figure to keep him rejoicing. 
 
 Supper served and over, Sidney retired to his 
 share in the double-bedded room at the back — 
 the shabby room with which Mr. Hinchford had 
 lately grown disgusted, and even wished to quit, 
 knowing not his son's reason for remaining — leav-
 
 184 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 ing the father to fill his after-supper pipe before 
 the fire. Mr. Hinchford was in a reflective, 
 wide-awake mood, and not inclined for rest just 
 then ; he sat with his slippered feet on the fender, 
 puffing away at his meerschaum. Had he not 
 promised his son to keep away from Mr. Wesden 
 until the denouement had been brought about by 
 Sid's own method, he would have gone down stairs 
 and talked it over with the old people ; but the 
 promise given, he would sit there and think of his 
 son's chances, and pray for them, as they were 
 nearest his heart then. 
 
 He was a father who understood human na- 
 ture a little, not so much as he fancied himself, 
 but who was, nevertheless, a man of discernment, 
 when his simple vanity did not stand in the way. 
 
 He had not thought deeply of Harriet Wesden 
 before ; now that there loomed before him the 
 prospect of calling her " daughter," he conjured 
 up every reminiscence connected with her, and set 
 himself to think whether such a girl were likely to 
 make Sid happy, or to love Sid as that pure- 
 hearted, honest lad deserved. He was astonished,
 
 THE NEW ESTATE. 185 
 
 after a while, at the depth of his researches into 
 the past ; he could remember her a light-hearted 
 child, a vivacious girl, now, presto, a woman, whom 
 Sid sought for a vdfe ; he could see her flitting 
 before him, a pretty girl, swayed a little by the 
 impulse of the hour, and verging on extremes ; he 
 called to mind certain traits of character that had 
 struck him more than once, and had then been 
 forgotten in the hurrying passage of events foreign 
 to her ; he sat studpng an abstruse volume, and 
 perplexing himself with its faintly written charac- 
 ters. Mothers have had such thoughts, and made 
 them the business of a life, sorrowing and rejoicing 
 over them, and praying for their children's future ; 
 seldom fathers, before whom are ever the counting- 
 house in the City, the bargains to be made in the 
 mart or on the exchange, the accommodation to be 
 had at the bankers'. 
 
 Hinchford thought like a woman ; he was a 
 clerk whose business thoughts ended when he came 
 home at night, and he was alone in the world with 
 one hope. All the old worldly thoughts lay apart 
 from him, and the affections of paternity were
 
 186 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 stronger within him in consequence. He lived 
 for Sid, not for himself. 
 
 He was still in a brown study, when the shuffling 
 feet of Mrs. Wesden, being assisted up-stairs by 
 her husband to the top back room, disturbed him 
 for an instant ; then the rustle of a dress, and the 
 light footfall of the daughter, assured him of 
 Harriet's retirement. All was still in that crowded 
 house which he had wished to exchange a year ago 
 for a house in the suburbs, suitable to the united 
 salaries of himself and boy. He thought of that 
 wish, and sighed to think it had not been carried 
 out, for, after all, he was not quite satisfied with 
 the turn affairs had taken. 
 
 The door opened suddenly and startled his nerves. 
 He turned a scared face towards the intruder, who 
 jumped a little at the sight of him sitting before 
 the grate, black, yawning and uninviting at that 
 hour. 
 
 " I thought you had gone, ^ir. Hinchford," said 
 Mattie ; " I came for the supper tray and to tidy 
 up a bit here, and save time in the morning." 
 " How's Ann f he asked absently.
 
 THE NEW ESTATE. 187 
 
 " Better, I think," replied Mattie, still standing 
 at the door. 
 
 " You can clear away — I'm going in a minute. 
 How's the evening school, girl ?" 
 
 " Why, I have left it this twelvemonth !" 
 
 "To be sure — ^I had forgotten that you had 
 learned all that they could teach you, and had be- 
 come too much of a woman. Whj, we shall hear 
 of you being married next." 
 
 " Who's going to be married noio — Mr. Sidney ?" 
 
 " Confound you ! how sharp you are," said Mr. 
 Hinchford a little dismayed; " no, I never said so — 
 mind I never said a word, so don't let us have any 
 ridiculous tattling." 
 
 " I never tattle," said Mattie in an offended tone. 
 "Gh! Mr. Hinchford," she added suddenly, "you 
 can always trust me with anything." 
 
 " I hope so, Mattie — I hope so." 
 
 "And if Mr. Sidney thinks of marrying our 
 Harriet, you may trust me not to let the people 
 round here know a word about it. Not a word, 
 sir ! " she repeated, with pursed lips. 
 
 ;Mr. Hinchford ran his hands through his hair,
 
 188 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 and loosened his stock again. He was confused, 
 he had betrayed his hand, and made a mess of it, 
 or else Mattie knew more than he gave her credit 
 for, it was doubtful which. 
 
 " Mattie," he said, after a while, when that 
 young woman, rapid in her movements, had 
 packed the tray and w^as proceeding to retire with 
 it. 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 She left the table and came nearer to him. 
 
 " Whatever made you think that my dear boy 
 was likely to — to take a fancy to Harriet ?" 
 
 " I've noticed that he talks to her a good deal, 
 and comes into the back parlour a great deal, and 
 brightens up when she speaks to him, and you can 
 see his eyes dancing away behind the little specta- 
 cles he's taken to — and very becoming they are, sir." 
 
 " Very," asserted the old gentleman. 
 
 "And he's always dull when she's out, and 
 fidgets till he knows where she has gone, and tries 
 to make me tell ; and so I've fancied, oh ! ever so 
 long, that Harriet and he would make a match of 
 it some day."
 
 THE NEW ESTATE. 189 
 
 He was amazed at this girl ascertaining the 
 truth before himself, but he retained his cool de- 
 meanour. 
 
 "Some long day hence, mayhap — who can 
 tell?" 
 
 " Love's as uncertain as life — isn't it, sir ?" 
 
 " Ahem — yes." 
 
 " At least, I've read so," corrected Mattie. " It's 
 a thing I shall never understand, Mr. Hinchford." 
 
 " Time enough — time enough, my girl." 
 
 "But our Harriet, she's pretty, she's a lady, 
 she's meant to be loved by everybody she meets, 
 and she's the only one that's good enough to marry 
 Umr 
 
 She lowered her voice at the last word, and made 
 a quick movement with her hand in the direction 
 of the adjoining room. 
 
 " You are very fond of Harriet, Mattie ?" said 
 Mr. Hinchford, curiously. 
 
 " As I need be, sir, surely." 
 
 " Ah ! surely — she is amiable and kind." 
 
 " Always so, I think." 
 
 " A little thoughtless, perhaps — eh ?"
 
 190 MATTIE : A STKAY. 
 
 He was curious concerning Harriet Wesden 
 now — no match-making mother could have taken 
 more indirect and artful means to elicit the truth 
 concerning her child's elect. 
 
 "Why, that's it!" exclaimed Mattie ; "that's 
 why Mr. Sidney ought to marry her." 
 
 "Oh! isitr 
 
 " You'll see, sir," said Mattie, suddenly drawing 
 a chair close to Mr. Hinchford, and assuming a 
 position on the edge thereof ; " you'll soon see, sir, 
 what I mean by that.'* 
 
 "Yes— yes." 
 
 It was a strange picture, with an odd couple in 
 the foreground ; Harriet Wesden, Sidney Hinch- 
 ford, or afflicted Ann Packet, coming in suddenly, 
 would have been puzzled what to make of it. The 
 burlesque side to the scene did not strike Mr. 
 Hinchford till long afterwards ; the slight figure 
 of the girl on the chair before him, the rapid 
 manner in which she expounded her theory, her 
 animation, sudden gestures, and, above all, his own 
 intense interest in the theme, and f orgetf ulness of 
 the confidence he placed in her by his own absor-
 
 THE NEW ESTATE. 191 
 
 bent pose. He had put his pipe aside, and, open- 
 mouthed and round-eyed, was drinking in every 
 word, clutching his knees with his hands, mean- 
 while. 
 
 "Mr. Sidney isn't thoughtless. He's careful, 
 and he has a reason for everything, and he will keep 
 her from harm all her life. She'll be the best and 
 brightest of wives to him, if they should ever 
 marry, which I do hope and pray they will, sir, 
 soon. I'm sure there are no two who would make 
 a happier couple, and oh ! — to see them happy," 
 clapping her hands together, "what would igive!" 
 
 "You haven't lost your interest in us, then, 
 Mattief 
 
 " When I forget the prayers that Mrs. Wesden 
 taught me, or the first words of yours that set me 
 thinking that I might grow good, or all the kind- 
 ness which everybody in this house has shown for 
 me, then I shall lose that, sir — not before !" 
 
 " You're an uncommon girl, Mattie." 
 
 "No, sir." 
 
 " You show an uncommon phase — great grati- 
 tude for little kindnesses. I'm glad to see this in-
 
 192 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 terest in Harriet and my boy — perhaps they might 
 do worse than make a match of it. But — but," 
 suddenly returning to the subject which engrossed 
 him, "hasn't it struck you — just a little, mind, 
 nothing to speak of — that Harriet Wesden is a 
 trifle vain f 
 
 " Wouldn't you be proud of your good looks, if 
 you had any?" was the sharp rejoind,er. 
 
 " Um," coughed he, " I daresay I might." 
 
 " I should be always staring at myself in the 
 glass if I had her complexion, her golden hair, her 
 lovely blue eyes. I should be proud to think that 
 my pretty face had made my happiness by bringing 
 the thoughts of such a son as yours to me." 
 
 " Ah ! I didn't see it in that light," said he, 
 tugging at his stock again, "'and I — I daresay 
 everything will turn out for the best. We will not 
 dwell upon this any more, but let things take their 
 course, and not spoil them by interference, or by 
 talking about them, Mattie." 
 
 " Don't fear me," said Mattie, rising. 
 
 " I don't think it is our place," he added, asso- 
 ciating himself with Mattie, to render his hints less
 
 THE XEW ESTATE. 193 
 
 personal, " to be ciu'ious about it, and seek to pry 
 into what is going on in tlie hearts of these young 
 people. Do you think now, Mattie, that she's in- 
 clined to be fond of — of my Sid ?" 
 
 " I don't say she'd own it just now — but I think 
 she is. Why shouldn't she be ?" 
 
 " Ah ! — why, indeed. There's not a boy like 
 him in the whole parish." 
 
 " No, sir." 
 
 " And Harriet Wesden will be a lucky girl." 
 
 "Ah! that she will!" 
 
 "And — and now good night, Mattie, and the 
 less we repeat of this gossip the better." 
 
 " Certainly — things had better take their course 
 without our interference." 
 
 " Yes," was the dry answer. 
 
 Mattie seized her tray, and prepared to depart. 
 At the door, with her burden en avance she paused, 
 went back to the table, replaced her tray, and re- 
 turned to !Mr. Hinchford's side. 
 
 " Something happened to-night ! The dear girl 
 has been disturbed — I hope Mr. Sidney has not 
 been in a huiTy, and " 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 194 MATTIE : A STKAY. 
 
 " Hush ! I don't think he's asleep. Good night 
 — good night.'^ 
 
 " When she was a year younger, it was hard 
 work to keep back what was in her heart from me ; 
 but she's gi'owing older in her ways, and better 
 able to understand that I'm only a poor servant, 
 after all. I don't complain," said Mattie, " she's 
 always kind and good to me, but she's my mistress's 
 daughter, rather than the sister — or something like 
 the sister — that used to be. And I do so like to 
 know everything, sir !" 
 
 " So it seems," remarked Mr. Hinchford. 
 
 " Everything that concerns her, I mean — ^be- 
 cause I might be of help when she least expected 
 it. And so Mr. Sidney has told her all about it 
 to-night?" 
 
 " I never said so," cried the embarrassed old gen- 
 tleman. 
 
 " Well, I only guess at it," answered Mattie ; 
 " I shall soon come to the rights of it, if I keep a 
 good look out." 
 
 She caught up her tray again and marched to 
 the door to ponder anew. Mr. Hinchford writhed
 
 THE NEW ESTATE. 195 
 
 on his chair — would this loquacious diminutive 
 help never go downstairs and leave him in peace ? 
 She asked no more questions, however. 
 
 " And to think that what I fancied would 
 happen is all coming round like a story-book, just 
 as I hoped it would be for her sake — for his sake — 
 years and years ago! How nicely things come 
 round, sir, don't they?" 
 
 "Don't they I" he re-echoed. 
 
 Mattie departed, and the old gentleman blew at 
 invisibility in the air once more. 
 
 " How that girl does talk! — it is her one fault — 
 loquacity. If she can only find a listener, she's 
 happy. And yet, when I come to consider it, that 
 girl's always happy — for she's thankful and con- 
 tent. And things are coming nicely round, she 
 says — well, I hope so ! " 
 
 o2
 
 196 MATTIE : A STRAY, 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 SIDNEY STATES HIS INTENTIONS. 
 
 Mr. Wesden, if not the first person up in the 
 house, was at least the first person who superin- 
 tended business in the morning. For years that 
 little shop had been opened punctually at six a.m. 
 When the boy had not arrived to take down the 
 shutters, Mr. Wesden lowered them himself. 
 Tradesfolk over the way, early mechanics sallying 
 forth to work from the back streets adjacent, the 
 policeman on duty, the milkboy, and the woman 
 with the water-cresses, knew when it was six o'clock 
 in Great Suffolk Street by the opening of Mr. 
 Wesden's shop. 
 
 Mr. Wesden prided himself upon this punc- 
 tuality, and not even to Mattie would he intrust 
 the duties of commencing the labours of the day,
 
 THE XEW ESTATE. 197 
 
 despite the inflexibility of his back after a night's 
 " restr 
 
 Sidney »Hinchford, who knew Mr. Wesden's 
 habits, therefore found no difficulty in meeting 
 with that gentleman at five minutes past the early 
 hour mentioned. 
 
 " Good morning, Mr. Wesden." 
 
 " Good morning, Sidney." 
 
 Mr. Wesden was sittino- behind his counter, in 
 business position, ready for customers ; the morning 
 papers had not come in from the agent — he had 
 given up of late years fetching them from the 
 office himself — and there was not much to distract 
 him from full attention to all that Sidney had to 
 communicate. 
 
 " I thought I should find you handy for a 
 serious bit of talk, sir." 
 
 ^Ir. Wesden looked at him, and his face assumed 
 a degi'ee of extra graA-ity. Sidney Hinchford 
 had got into debt with his tailor, and wished to 
 borrow a few pounds " on the quiet." 
 
 " I suppose Harriet told you last night what 
 happened ?"
 
 198 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 " Not all that happened, I fancy." 
 
 " Then she waited for me, possibly," he said, a 
 little taken aback nevertheless, "or told her mother. 
 Well, you see, to make a long story short, Mr. 
 Wesden, I have taken the liberty of falling in 
 love with your daughter, as was natural and to be 
 expected, and I have come down early this morn- 
 ing to tell you plainly that that's the state of my 
 feelings, and that if you have anything to say 
 against it or me, why you can clap on the extin- 
 guisher, and no one a bit the wiser." 
 
 Mr. Wesden was a man who never showed his 
 surprise by anything more than an intenser stare 
 than usual ; he sat looking stolidly at Sidney 
 Hinchford, who leaned over the counter with 
 flushed cheeks and earnest eyes, surveying him 
 through his glasses. 
 
 Still Mr. Wesden was surprised — m fact, very 
 much astonished. Only a year or two ago, and 
 the tall young man before him was a little boy 
 fresh from school, and a som'ce of trouble to him 
 when he got near the tinsel drawer, and Skelt's
 
 THE NEW ESTATE. 199 
 
 Scenes and Characters — now he was talking of 
 love matters. 
 
 " You're the first customer this morning, Sidney, 
 and you've asked for a rum article," he said 
 bluntly. 
 
 " Which you'll not refuse me, I hope, sir — 
 which you'll give me a chance of obtaining, at all 
 events." 
 
 " What does Harriet say?" 
 
 '' I've — I've only just said a few words to her — 
 more than I ought to have said perhaps, before I 
 know her feelings towards me, or what your wishes 
 were, sir." 
 
 Sidney, very humble and deferential to pater- 
 familias, after taking the case in his own hands, 
 like all young hypocrites who have this terrible 
 ordeal to pass, and are doubtful of the upshot- 
 Mr. Wesden listened and stared — clean over 
 Sidney's head, rather than at him. Had he not 
 had a long experience of the stationer's ways, he 
 would have augured ill for his prospects from 
 the stolidity with which his news was received ;
 
 200 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 but Mr. Wesden was always a grave and reserved 
 man, and his immobile features did not alarm the 
 young suitor. 
 
 '' Well, and what's to keep her and you — my 
 money ?" 
 
 '^ Not a farthing of it, sir, by your good leave," 
 said Sidney, proudly ; " I wish to work on and 
 wait for her. I have every hope of attaining to a 
 good position in my office — I think I see my way 
 clearly — I won't ask you to let her marry m.e till I 
 can show you a home of my own, and a little money 
 in the bank, sir." 
 
 " Why didn't you wait till then ?" was the dry 
 question. 
 
 " Why, because a fellow wants a hope to live on 
 — permission from you to pay his addresses to Miss 
 Harriet, and to ask her to give me a hope too." 
 
 "I see." 
 
 ]Mr. Wesden fidgeted about his top drawers, 
 folded some papers, looked in his till, and then 
 turned his little withered face to Sidney. The 
 face had altered, was brighter, even wore a smile, 
 and Sidney's heart leaped again.
 
 THE NEW ESTATE. 201 
 
 *^ If you'd been like most young men, I should 
 have said ' Not yet.' But you haven't crept about 
 the bush, and you've dealt fair, and I'll promise 
 all I can without tying the girl up too closely." 
 
 " Tying her up !" 
 
 " The home of your own hasn't turned up yet," 
 shrewdly remarked the stationer ; " and though I 
 believe that and the money will, we may as well 
 wait for some signs of them. And " 
 
 "Well, well." 
 
 " Don't you be in a huriy, young man ; breath 
 don't come so fast as it did, and I'm not used to 
 long speeches." 
 
 "Take your time, sir — I beg pardon." 
 
 " And Harriet's very young, and may see some 
 one else to like better." 
 
 " I hope not, sir." 
 
 " And you are very young, and may see some 
 one else too." 
 
 " Oh ! Mr. Wesden." 
 
 " Ah ! it's shocking to think of, but these awful 
 events do occur," said the old man, satirically ; 
 "and, besides, my old lady and I are ignorant
 
 202 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 people in one way, and mayn't suit you when you 
 get bigger and prouder." 
 
 " Mr. Wesden, you'll not fancy that, I know." 
 " You'll have to think whether, when you are a 
 great man, you'll be able to put up with the 
 old lady and me coming to see our girl some- 
 times." 
 
 Sidney entered another protest — was prolific, 
 even liberal in his invitations, which he issued on 
 the spot. 
 
 " Then if it's not an engagement, or what I call 
 downright keeping company just yet — say for 
 another year at least, I shan't turn my back upon 
 you." 
 
 " Thank you, sir — you are more than generous." 
 He leaned across the counter and shook iiands 
 with Mr. Wesden ; the news-agent drove up in his 
 pony-cart at the same moment, and directly after- 
 wards had flung a heavy bundle of the " early 
 mornings " upon the counter ; the news-boy 
 entered, and waited for orders for his first round ; 
 a little girl came in for a penny postage stamp, 
 change for sixpence, and a piece of paper to wrap
 
 THE NEW ESTATE. 203 
 
 the lot in. Business was beginning in Great 
 Suffolk Street, and Sidney Hinchford getting in 
 the way. Sidney would have liked to add a little 
 more, but Mr. Wesden stopped him. 
 
 " Harriet's been down this half hour," he said ; 
 " I suppose you know that." 
 
 " Indeed I did not, sir," exclaimed Sidney, with 
 a wild glance towards the parlour. 
 
 Harriet was there, busying herself with the 
 breakfast cloth — a domestic picture, fair and glow- 
 ing. He dashed into the parlour, and Harriet, 
 prepared for him now, listened demurely, felt her 
 heart plunging a little, but did not rebuke him with 
 any words similar to those of yesternight. His 
 despairing look of that period had kept her restless 
 all night ; she could not bear to know that others 
 w^ere unhappy, and she fancied that she should 
 soon learn to love him, if she did not love him 
 already, for his manliness and frankness. So she 
 listened, and Sidney detailed his interview with 
 her father, and her father's wish that it should not 
 be considered an engagement between them until 
 at least another year had passed.
 
 204 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 " We are to go on just the same as if nothing 
 had happened, but — but I wish you to look for- 
 ward to the end of that year like myself, to have 
 hope in me and my efforts, and to give me hopes 
 of you." 
 
 "Am I worth hoping for, Sidney?" was the 
 rejoinder ; " you don't know half the foolishness of 
 which I have been guilty — what a weak, frivolous, 
 romantic girl I have been." 
 
 She thought of her Brighton romance, opened 
 the book, and then shut it hastily again. It was a 
 story he had no right to know yet, and she had not 
 the courage to tell him just then — it belonged 
 wholly to the past, so rake the dead leaves over it 
 and let it rest again ! 
 
 Let it rest, then ; ^there was no engagement. 
 Both were free to change their minds before the 
 year was out in which the strength of their love 
 would be put to the test. For that year nothing 
 more than friends, she thought, or a something 
 more than friends, and less than lovers. 
 
 The half bargain was concluded, and Sidney 
 went on his way rejoicing. There was rejoicing
 
 THE NEW ESTATE. 205 
 
 in the hearts of all in that house for a while. !Mrs. 
 Wesden cried over her girl as though she was going 
 away to-morrow, but talked as if it Vv'ere a settled 
 engagement, and was glad that Sidney Hinchford 
 was to be her son-in-law some day. ^ir. Hinchford 
 and IMr. Wesden smoked their pipes together that 
 evening, and talked about it in short disjointed 
 sentences, amidst which Mr. Hinchford learned 
 that Mr. Wesden would retire from business before 
 the year's probation had expired, leaving Mattie, 
 possibly, in charge. Mattie and Ann Packet in 
 the lower regions dwelt upon the same subject, free 
 debatable ground, which no one cared to hem round 
 by restrictions. 
 
 Late in the evening, Mattie stole up to Harriet's 
 bed-room, and knocked softly at the panels of the 
 door. 
 
 " May I come in ?" she asked. 
 
 " To be sure, Mattie." 
 
 " I thought that you would be sitting here, 
 thinking of it." 
 
 " Thinking of what, Mattie ?" 
 
 " Ah ! you don't tell me anything now — but I
 
 206 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 can guess — and ^Ir. Sidney did not sit in the par- 
 lour all the evening for nothing !"' 
 
 " No, Mattie ; but it's not a downright engage- 
 ment yet. I'm to try if I can like Sidney 
 first." 
 
 "That's the best way — didn't I say that this 
 would happen some day, Miss Harriet f 
 
 " But it hasn't happened yet." 
 
 " Ah ! but it will— I see it all now as plain as a 
 book. I said only last night that things were 
 coming round nicely for us all. And they are — 
 they are !" 
 
 Harriet began to cry, and to beg Mattie to desist. 
 For an instant the sanguine assertion sounded like 
 a vain prophecy, and jarred strangely on her nerves, 
 bringing forth tears and heavy sobs, and a fear of 
 that future which stretched forth radiantly beyond 
 to Mattie's vision. After all, Harriet was but a girl, 
 and had not thought very deeply of all that the 
 contract implied between Sidney and herself. 
 And after all, were things coming round nicely ? 
 — or was the red glow in the sky lurid and threat- 
 ening to her, and more than her ?
 
 THE NEW ESTATE. 207 
 
 This is scarcely a quiet story, and we are not 
 through our first volume. What does the astute 
 novel-reader think ? 
 
 END OF BOOK THE SECOND.
 
 BOOK II J, 
 
 UNDER SUSPICION. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 UNDER SUSPICIOX. 211 
 
 CHAPTER I, 
 
 AX OLD FRIEXD. 
 
 Mr. Wesdex retired from business. After thirty 
 or forty years' application to tlie arduous task of 
 '^keeping house and home together," after much 
 hesitation as to whether it were safe and practicable 
 and he could afford it ; after a struggle with his 
 old habits of shopkeeping, and a deliberate surv^ey 
 of his position from all points of the compass, he 
 migrated from Great Suffolk Street, and settled 
 down in Avhat he considered country — a back street 
 in the Camber well New Koad, commanding views 
 of a cabbage-field, a public house, and another 
 back street in course of formation by an enter- 
 prising builder. 
 
 This was countr^^ enough for ^Ir. Wesden ; and 
 handy for town, and Great Suffolk Street. For 
 
 P 2
 
 212 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 he had scarcely retired from business, merely 
 withdrawn himself from the direct management, 
 the sales over the comiter, and the worry of the 
 news-boys. The name of Wesden was still over 
 the door, and Mattie remained general manager 
 at the old shop, which had been her refuge from the 
 world in the hard times of her girlhood. 
 
 Mr. and ^Irs. Wesden then considered them- 
 selves in the country. They had humble notions, 
 and a little contented them. There was a back 
 garden with a grass plot, a gravel walk, two rows 
 of box edging, and a few flower-beds — sui'ely that 
 was country enough for anybody, they thought? 
 Then it was quite a mansion of a house — six rooms 
 exclusive of kitchen ; and, thanks more to* Harriet' s 
 taste than her parents', was neatly and prettily fur- 
 nished. 
 
 It was a change from Great Suffolk Street. 
 Harriet Wesden had been brought up with lady-like 
 notions, and had never taken to the shop ; it was 
 pleasant to live in a private house, practice her 
 piano, assist her mother in the gardening, and have a 
 young man to come courting her " once or twice
 
 UNDER SUSPICIOX. 213 
 
 a-week!" ]Mr. AYesclen, with habits more formed 
 for shop life, had to struggle hard before he could 
 accustom himself to the novelty of his position ; in 
 his heart he never felt thoroughly at home, and 
 was always glad of an excuse to walk over to Great 
 Suffolk Street. He could not sit on the new chairs 
 all day, and stare at the roses on the cai-pet; 
 there was nothing much to see out of window save 
 the postman, pot-boy, grocer's boy, and butcher, at 
 regular intervals ; gardening did not agree with his 
 back, and it was hard work to get through the day, 
 unless he went for a walk with the old lady. 
 
 The old lady aforesaid had taken quite a new 
 lease of life — absence from the close neighbourhood 
 of Suffolk Street had given her back some of her 
 old strength ; for twenty years she had solaced her- 
 self with the thought of " retiring" — the one ambi- 
 tion of a tradesman's \vife — and now it had come, 
 and she was all the better for the chancre. She 
 made such good use of her limbs at intervals, be- 
 came so absorbed in training Sweet Williams, and 
 picking the snails off the white lilies, brightened up 
 so much in that small suburban retreat^ that the
 
 214 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 old gentleman — always be it remembered of a sus- 
 picious turn — doubted in his own mind if Mrs. W. 
 had not been " shamming Abraham" in Great Suf- 
 folk Street. 
 
 Harriet was not nineteen years of age yet, and 
 business had not been left in Mattie's charge three 
 months, when Mr. Wesden's character began to 
 mould itself afresh. The change which had done 
 mother and daughter good, altered Mr. Wesden for 
 the worse. He became irritable, at times a little 
 despondent ; nothing to do, began seriously to affect 
 his temper. This is no common result in men who 
 have been in harness all their lives — steady, ener- 
 getic shopkeepers, whose lives have been one bustle 
 for a quarter of a century and upwards, find retir- 
 ing from business not so fine a thing as it looked 
 from the distance, when they were in debt to the 
 wholesale purveyors. 
 
 Mr. Wesden did not Hke it — if the truth must 
 be spoken, though he kept it to himself, for appear- 
 ances sake, he absolutely hated it. He was not 
 intended for a gentleman, and he could not waste 
 time — it made his head ache and gave him the
 
 UNDER SUSPICION. 215 
 
 heart-burn. If it had not been for the shop in Great 
 Sujffolk Street, he would have gone melancholy 
 mad, or taken to drinking ; that shop was his saf ety 
 valve, and he was only his old self when he was 
 back in it, pottering over the stock. 
 
 Unfortunately his neio self was never more 
 highly developed than when he had returned to 
 Camberwell, and woe to the beggar or the brass 
 band that halted before his gates and worried him. 
 
 Meanwhile, the shop in Great Suffolk Street 
 continued to do its steady and safe business. Mattie 
 was not far from eighteen years of age, proud of 
 her position of trust, the quickest and best of shop- 
 keepers. On the first floor still resided Mr. Hinch- 
 ford and his son ; the place was handy for office 
 yet, and they were biding their time to launch 
 forth, and assert their true position in society. The 
 rent was moderate, and Sidney was trying hai'd to 
 save money out of his salary ; there were incentives 
 to save, and at times he was even a trifle too econo- 
 mical for his fathers tastes. Still, he erred on the 
 right side — his father was becoming weaker, and 
 his father's memory was not what it had been — his
 
 21G MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 employers had not spoken of the partnership lately, 
 and there might be rainy days ahead, which it 
 was policy to prepare for — in a world of changes, 
 who could tell what might happen ? 
 
 Mattie found it dull at first after the Wesdens' 
 departure ; the place seemed full of echoes, and one 
 bright face at least was hard to lose. But the face 
 came often to light up the old shop again, and on 
 alternate Sundays she went to dine at the fine house 
 at Camberwell, leaving Ann Packet in charge of 
 the establishment. 
 
 Still she was soon " at home ;" she was a depend- 
 ant, and must expect changes ; she w^as a girl whc 
 always made the best of everything. There was 
 no time for her to regret the alterations ; she was 
 born for work, and there was plenty to do in Mr. 
 Wesden's business, not to mention a watch upon 
 Ann Packet at times, who, when '^afflicted," 
 was rather remiss in her attentions upon the 
 lodgers. 
 
 Life was not monotonous with her, for she took 
 an interest in her work; and if it had been, there 
 were many gleams of sunshine athwart it ; those
 
 UNDER SUSPICION. 217 
 
 who knew her best, loved her and had confidence in 
 her. Many in Suffolk Street thought there wasn't 
 such a young woman in the world ; a butcher over 
 the way — a young man beginning business for 
 himself, thought that it would be a " good spec " to 
 have such a young woman behind his counter at- 
 tending to the customers — those who knew her 
 history, and there were many in Suffolk Street who 
 remembered her antecedents, wondered at her pro- 
 gress ; all was well until the autumn set in, and 
 then the tide turned in the affairs of flattie, and 
 on those crood friends whom Mattie loved. 
 
 One afternoon in September, Mattie was busy in 
 the shop as usual — she kept to the shop all day, and 
 never adopted the plan of hiding away from cus- 
 tomers in the back parlour — when a woman with a 
 large basket, a key on her little finger, a bonnet 
 half off her head disclosing a broad, sallow, wrinkled 
 face, came shuffling into the shop. 
 
 Mattie looked at her across the counter, and 
 waited for orders, looked till her heart began beat- 
 ing unpleasantly fast. Back from the land benighted 
 came a rush of old memories at the sight of that
 
 218 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 dirty, slip-shod woman, whom she had hoped never 
 to see again. 
 
 "And so you recollects me, Mattie, arter all 
 these years f 
 
 " I — I think that I have seen you before." 
 
 '"'I should think you just had, once or twice. 
 And so you're minding this shop for the Wesdens, 
 wdiose turned gentlefolks ?" 
 
 "Yes, lam." 
 
 " Well," putting her basket on the counter, and 
 taking the one chair that was placed for the con- 
 venience of customers, " wonders will never cease. 
 To think that you should find a place like this, 
 and should have stuck to it so long, and never gone 
 trapesing about the streets again." 
 
 " Can I serve you with anything ?" asked Mat- 
 tie. 
 
 " No, you can't. I never deal here." 
 
 " Then what do you want f 
 
 " Ah ! that's another wonder which won't cease 
 either, my dear," said the old woman, assuming an 
 insinuative manner, " and a bigger wonder than the 
 tother one."
 
 L'XDER SUSPICION. 219 
 
 " I don't want to hear it, I don't want anything 
 to say to you. You must go out of the shop, Mrs. 
 Watts." 
 
 " Don't be afeard of me, my love ; the Lord 
 knows I haven't been a trouble to you, though I've 
 lived within a stone's throw, and could have dropped 
 in here at any moment. But no, I says, let her 
 keep to her fine stuck up people if she likes, and 
 forget her oldest and best friends for 'em, and do 
 her wust, it's not the likes of me or mine who'll 
 poke our noses into her affairs. No, I says, let her 
 keep a lady, and wear brown meriner dresses, and 
 smart black aprons, and white collars and cuffs, for 
 me!" 
 
 !Mrs. Watts had verged into the acrimonious 
 vein, taken stock of Mattie's general appearance at 
 that juncture, and introduced it into her conversation 
 with an ease and fluency that was remarkable. 
 
 Mattie stood watching her. This was the evil 
 genius of her early life, and there was danger in 
 her very presence. It was not safe to take her eyes 
 from her. 
 
 " What do you want ?" she asked again.
 
 220 MATTIE : A STEAY. 
 
 " It's somethin' partickler — shall we come into 
 theparler?" 
 
 " Oh ! no." 
 
 " I'm not well dressed enuf, I spose? — I'm not fit 
 society for sich a nice young gal, I spose? — I'm to 
 be turned off as if I was a beggar, instead of the 
 woman of property which I am, I spose?" 
 
 " What do you want f repeated Mattie. 
 
 "And I was your poor mother's friend, and 
 trusted her when nobody else would, and gave her 
 a bed to die on comf orbly when there wasn't a mag 
 to be made out of her. And I was your friend, 
 though- that's something to turn your nose up at, 
 ain't it r 
 
 " You were kind in your way, perhaps — I cannot 
 say, I don't know ; I don't wish to remember the 
 past any more. Will you tell me what you want, 
 or go away f 
 
 " And you won't come into the parler ?" 
 
 "No." 
 
 "It's the curiest story as you ever did hear. 
 There's been a man asking arter you down our 
 court, and asking arter me, and finding me out at
 
 UXDER SUSPICION. 221 
 
 last, and nearly coming to a bargain with me, when, 
 cus my greediness, I lost him." 
 
 " Asking after me f 
 
 " Ah ! you may well open those black eyes of 
 yourn — he made me stare, I can tell you. He 
 walks one day into my house, as if it belonged to 
 him, and says, ^ Are you Mrs. Watts V ' Yes,' I 
 says. ' Do you remember Mrs. Gray V he says. 
 ' Xot by name,' I says. ' She was a tramp,' he 
 says, ' and died here.' ' Oh !' I says, ' if it's her 
 you mean, whose name I never knowed or cared 
 about, died here, she did.' ' And the child V he 
 says. ' Mattie you mean,' I says. ' Ah ! Mattie, 
 he says. And then I sajs, thinking it was a dodge, 
 my dear, for the perlice are up to all manner of 
 tricks, and you mightn't have been going on the 
 square, and been wanted, then I says, ' And will }'ou 
 obleege me with yom' reasons for all these questions 
 of a 'spectable and hard-working woman f I says. 
 " My name's Gray,' he says, ' and I'm Mattie's 
 father.' " 
 
 ^' Is this true ? — oh ! is it really true 1" 
 
 " Hopemaydropdead, my dear, if it isn't," ]vlrs.
 
 222 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 Watts remarked, running lier words into each 
 other in the vokibiUty of her protestation ; ^' hope- 
 mayneverstiragainfromhere, if t'isn't, Ifiss Gray! 
 ' Mattie's father,' I says. ' Yes,' he says ; * is that 
 so very wonderful V And I says, ' Yes it is, arter 
 all this time ago.' And then he asks all manner 
 of questions, which I didn't see the good of an- 
 swering, and so was wxrry ignorant, my dear, until 
 he said he'd give me a suverin to find you out. 
 I says, ' I'd try for a five pun note, for you was a 
 long way off, and it'd be a trouble to look arter 
 you.' And he says, ' I'll take that trouble,' and I 
 didn't see the pull of that, knowing he was anxious 
 like, and fancying that five pounds w^ouldn't ruin 
 him, so I held out. And then he looked at his 
 watch, and said he'd come again, which he never 
 did, as I'm an honest ooman." 
 
 " How long w^as this ago ?" 
 
 "Two months." 
 
 " What kind of a man was he ?" 
 
 " Oh ! a little ugly bloke enough — not too well 
 dressed. Your father won't turn out to be a
 
 rxDER suspiciox. 223 
 
 duke or markis, if he ever turns up agin and 
 brings me mv five pounds." 
 
 " But you will not tell him where I live ? — he 
 may be a bad, cruel man — my mother ran away 
 from him because he treated her ill, I have heard 
 her say. Oh I don't tell him where I live — I am 
 happy and contented here." 
 
 ^Irs. Watts brightened up with a new idea. 
 
 "You must make it a five pun note, then, 
 instead of him, and I'll tell him I can't find yer 
 when he comes back to take you home with him. 
 YouVe saved money, I daresay, by this time, and 
 five pounds ain't much to stand." 
 
 Mattie recovered her composure when it came 
 to the money test ; there was a motive for ^Irs. 
 Watts' appearance there, she thought ; after all it 
 was an idle stor}-, a foolish scheme to extort money, 
 which Mattie saw through now. 
 
 '^ I shall not give you any money — not five 
 pence, Mrs. Watts." 
 
 "Leave it alone, then," was the sharp reply; 
 " you can't leave here, and I'll bring him to you, if
 
 224 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 he ever comes agin. I didn't come to get money 
 out of yer, but to keep my eye upon you for your 
 father's sake. And you'll never take a step away 
 from this place, right or left, but what I'll know 
 it — there's too many on us about here for you to 
 steal away." 
 
 ^' I do not intend to steal away," cried Mattie* 
 
 " And considerin' that I've come out of kind- 
 ness, and to give you a piece of news, you might 
 have said thankee for it — bad luck to you, Mattie 
 Gray." 
 
 " Oh ! bad luck will not come to me at your 
 wish." 
 
 The old woman paused at the door, and shook 
 her key at her. 
 
 " I never wished bad luck to any living soul, but 
 what it came. Now think of that !" 
 
 She went out of the shop and along Great 
 Suffolk Street at a smart pace — like a woman who 
 had suddenly remembered something and started 
 off in a hurry after it. Mattie was perplexed at 
 the interview; doubtful if any truth had mixed 
 itself with Mrs. Watts' statement, and at a loss to
 
 UNDER SUSPICION. 
 
 225 
 
 reconcile all that she had heard with fabrication. 
 Even from Mrs. Watts' lips it sounded like truth ; 
 the woman seemed in earnest, her offer to take five 
 pounds for her silence an impromptu thought, 
 originated by Mattie's sudden fear. 
 
 '' What can it mean ? — what can it mean ?" re- 
 iterated Mattie to herself ; " was it unfair to doubt 
 her? — she thought so, or she would not have wished 
 me bad luck so evilly at the last ?" 
 
 She sat down behind the counter to reflect upon 
 the strangeness of the incident, and was still re- 
 volving in her mind the facts or falsities connected 
 with it, when Ann Packet burst from the parlour 
 door into the shop, with eyes distended. 
 
 " Have you been upstairs, Mattie ?" 
 
 " Upstairs, Ann ! — no." 
 
 '"• Have you been asleep ?" 
 
 " No." 
 
 '^ Oh, lor ! — quite sure — not a moment !" 
 
 " No — no — what has happened V 
 
 " Somebod^^'s been up-stairs into all the rooms, 
 into yourn, too, where the money's put for Mr. 
 Wesden — and — and broken open the drawer." 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 226 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 " And the cash box that I keep there V 
 
 " Open, and empty !" 
 
 Mattie dropped again into the chair from ^vhich 
 she had risen at the appearance of Ann Packet, 
 and strucjorled with a sense of f aintness which came 
 over her. The bad luck that Mrs. Watts had 
 wished had soon stolen on its way towards her.
 
 UNDER SUSPICION. 227 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 STRANGE VISITORS TO GREAT SUFFOLK STREET. 
 
 Mattie guessed the plan by which the robben" 
 had been effected, and at which Mrs. Watts had 
 connived. Her attention had been distracted by 
 the story that had been fabricated for the purpose, 
 and then the accompHce, on his hands and knees, 
 had stolen snake-like towards the door opening on 
 the stairs, and made short work with everything of 
 value to be found in the upper floors. What was 
 to be done ? — what would Mr. Wesden say, he 
 who had never had a robbery committed on his pre- 
 mises during all the long years of his business hfe, 
 thanks to his carefulness and watchfulness ? What 
 would he think of her ? Would he believe that 
 she had paid common attention to the shop he 
 had left in trust to her, to be robbed in the broad 
 
 Q2
 
 228 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 noonday? What should she do? wait till the 
 shop was closed and then set forth for Camberwell 
 with the bad news, or start at once, leaving Ann 
 Packet in charge, or wait till Mr. Hinchford came 
 home, and ask him to be the mediator ? 
 
 Whilst revolving these plans of action in her 
 mind, the proprietor of the establishment, wearied 
 of his country retirement, walked into the shop. 
 
 " Oh ! sir, something has happened very dread- 
 ful !" she exclaimed. 
 
 Mr. Wesden began to stare over her head at 
 this salutation. 
 
 "What's that?" he asked. 
 
 "Some one has been up-stairs this afternoon, 
 broken open the drawers, and the cash-box, and 
 taken the money, eight pounds, nine shillings and 
 sixpence, sir." 
 
 Mr. Wesden sat down in the chair formerly 
 occupied by Mrs. Watts and tried to arrange his 
 ideas; he stared over Mattie's head hai'der than 
 ever ; he held his own head between his hands, 
 taking oft' his hat especially for that purpose, and 
 placing it on the counter.
 
 UNDER SUSPICION. 229 
 
 " Money taken out of this house ?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 "At this time of day — where were you, 
 Mattief 
 
 " In the shop, sitting here, I beheve." 
 
 " Then they came in at the back, I suppose ?" 
 
 " No, in the front, whilst Mrs. Watts was talk- 
 ing 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 inquuing for me in Kent 
 Street." 
 
 " This is a curious story," muttered Mr. Wes- 
 den. 
 
 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 hea\'y^ loss — I'll speak to the police- 
 man."
 
 230 MATTIE : A STR^VY. 
 
 ^Ir. Wesden went in search of a policemanj 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 ^Ir. 
 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 poHcemen came down 
 stairs and put many questions to Mattie and Ann 
 Packet ; finally the policemen departed, and ^Ir. 
 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 j^ou'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
 
 UXDER SUSPICIOX. 231 
 
 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 susjject her. She had gained 
 his confidence oidy 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 ab- 
 sence. 
 
 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 ser^dce to him, and 
 he was not an uncharitable man. But the police 
 had seconded his doubts — the story was an un- 
 likely 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
 
 232 BtATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 years. However, his better nature would not mis- 
 judge 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 Camber well 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 nega- 
 tive. 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. 
 
 'Td 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 is'nt 
 a fair prospect to look back upon, and that it stands 
 between you and your trust in me at this time."
 
 UNDER SUSPICION. 233 
 
 " No, ]\rattie." 
 
 " If vou 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 
 foro-ot his new harshness, Avhich 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 ingratitude towards 
 him. After that charge and refutation, flattie and 
 Mr. Wesden were on better terms with each other 
 —the robbeiy, the visit of ^Irs. Watts, a])peared 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. 
 
 ^leantime the course of Sidney Hinchf ord's true 
 love flowed on j)eacef ully ; he was happy enough 
 now — with the hope of Harriet Wesden for a wife
 
 234 MATTIE : A STKAY. 
 
 he became more energetic than ever in business ; 
 possibly even a young man less abrupt to his com- 
 panions in office ; for the tender passion 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 house- 
 keeper, Mattie." 
 
 Mattie' s face brightened up ; it had been rather 
 a sad face of late, and Sidney Hinchford had ob-
 
 UNDER SUSPICION. 235 
 
 served 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 readi- 
 ness of reply. 
 
 " Why, Mattie, are you tired of shopkeeping ?" 
 
 " At times I am," she ans^Yered. " 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 ver}^ 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 con- 
 fidence that has been placed in me. You, ^Ir. 
 Hinchford, must not think I'm ungrateful or dis- 
 contented." 
 
 "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 -smte as 
 well as most of us." 
 
 " I don't exactly understand the true meaning of 
 ambition," said Mattie. "I'm no scholar, you
 
 236 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 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 some- 
 one I love, than see those I love working and toil- 
 ing 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 ex- 
 cited, 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 varia-
 
 UXDER SUSPICIOX. 237 
 
 tion 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 sta- 
 tioner's door. A few moments afterwards a tall, 
 white-haired old gentleman entered the shop lean- 
 ing upon the arm of a good-looking young man, 
 and advanced tow^ards the counter. 
 
 The likeness of the elder man was so apparent 
 to that of old 'Mr. Hinchford upstairs, that Mattie 
 fancied it was he for an instant, until her rapid ob- 
 servation 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-glass in his hand. 
 
 " Thank you, that will do. I won't trouble you 
 any further." 
 
 '' Shall I wait here f ' 
 
 '' No, my boy — don't let me keep you from your 
 club engagements. If you are behind time take 
 the carriage." 
 
 "No, no — not so selfish as that, sir. Good 
 night."
 
 238 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 " Good night." 
 
 The good-looking young man did not wait to see 
 the result of his father's mission ; he glanced for a 
 moment at Mattie, and then took his departure, 
 leaving the stately old gentleman confronting her 
 at the counter. 
 
 " This is j\Ir. Wesden's, stationer, I believe f he 
 asked, surveying Mattie through his glasses. 
 
 "Yes, shV 
 
 "A Mr. Hhichford lives here?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "Is he within?" 
 
 " Not the old gentleman, I believe, sir." 
 
 " As I have not come hither to base my hopes of 
 an interview on the belief of a black-eyed shop- 
 girl, will you be kind enough to inquire?" 
 
 The old gentleman sat down and loosened the 
 gilt clasp of a long cloak which he wore — an old- 
 fashioned, oddly cut black cloak, with a cape to it. 
 
 Mattie forgot the likeness which this gentleman 
 bore to the lodger upstairs ; lost her impression of 
 the carriage at the door, and thought of Mrs. 
 Watts and the hundred tricks of London thieves.
 
 UNDER SUSPICIOX. 239 
 
 She began thumping with her heels on the floor, 
 until she quite shook up the old gentleman on the 
 other side of the counter. 
 
 " What's that for, my child?" he asked. 
 
 *• That'll bring up the servant — I never leave 
 the shop." 
 
 The gentleman closed his glasses, and rapped 
 upon the counter with them, in rather an amused 
 manner. 
 
 " By Jupiter Tonans, that's amusing ! She thinks 
 I am going to make off with the stationery," he 
 said, more to himself than Mattie. 
 
 Ann Packet, round eyed and wondering as usual, 
 looked over the parlour blind, flattie beckoned 
 to her, and she opened the parlour door. 
 
 " Eun up and tell Mr. Sidney that a gentleman 
 wishes to see his father. Is he to wait^ or to call 
 again ?" 
 
 " I think I might answer that question better 
 myself — stay." 
 
 The slim old gentleman very slowly and deli- 
 berately searched for his card-case, produced it and 
 drew forth a card.
 
 240 MATTIE : A STEAY. 
 
 " Present that to ^Ir. Sidney, and say that the 
 bearer is desirous of an interview." 
 
 Ann Packet took the card in her s^reat red hand, 
 turned it over, looked from it to the owner, gave 
 vent to an idiotic "Lor!" and then trudged up- 
 stairs with the card. Mattie and the old gentle- 
 man, meanwhile, continued to regard each other — 
 the suspicions of the former not perfectly allayed yet. 
 
 Ann Packet returned, appearing by the staircase 
 door this time. 
 
 " Mr. Sidney Hinchford will see you, sir — if your 
 business is of importance, he says." 
 
 The gentleman addressed compressed his lips — 
 very thin lips they became on the instant — but 
 deigned no reply. He rose from his chair, and 
 followed Ann through the door, upstairs towards 
 ;Mr. Hinchford's room, leaving his hat on the 
 counter, where he had very politely placed it upon 
 entering the shop. 
 
 Mattie put it behind her, and then scowled down 
 a lack-a-daisical footman, who was simpering at her 
 between a Family Herald and a portrait of T. P. 
 Cooke.
 
 UNDER SUSPICIOX. 241 
 
 The stranger followed Ann Packet up-stairs^ 
 and entered the room on the first floor, glancing 
 sharply round him through his glasses, and taking a 
 survey of everything which it contained on the 
 instant. There was a fire burning in the grate 
 that autumn night ; the gas was lighted ; the tea- 
 things ready on the table ; at a smaller table by the 
 window, working by the light of a table-lamp 
 adorned with a green shade, and with another 
 green shade tied across his forehead by way of 
 extra protection for the eyes he worked so merci- 
 lessly, sat Sidney Hinchford, the only occupant of 
 the room. 
 
 Sidney rose, bowed slightly, pointed to a chair 
 with the feather of his pen, then sat down again, 
 and looked at his visitor from under the ugly shade, 
 which cast his face into shadow. 
 
 The gentleman bowed also, and took the seat in- 
 dicated, keeping his gold-rimmed glasses on his 
 nose. 
 
 " You are my brother James's son, I presume f 
 
 " The same, sir." 
 
 " You are surprised to see me here ?" 
 
 YOL. I. R
 
 242 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 " Yes, sir — now." 
 
 '^ Why now ?" was tlie quick question that fol- 
 lowed like the snap of a trigger. 
 
 " Years and years ago, when I was a lad, I fan- 
 cied that you might visit here, and make an effort 
 to bridge over an ugly gulf, sir." 
 
 " Years and years ago, young man, I had too 
 much upon my mind, and, it was just possible, 
 more pride in my heart than to make the first ad- 
 vances." 
 
 " You were the richer man — and you had done 
 the wrong." 
 
 "Wrong, sir!" replied the other; " there was no 
 wrong done that I am aware of. I was a man 
 careful of my money, and your father was a man 
 impro^•ident with his. Was it wrong to object to 
 an alliance?" 
 
 " I have but a dim knowledge of the story, sir. 
 My father does not care to dwell upon it." 
 
 "I will tell it you." 
 
 The old gentleman drew his chair nearer to 
 Sidney ; the young man held up his hand. 
 
 " Pardon me, but I have no desire to hear it.
 
 UNDER SUSPICIOX. 243 
 
 Were I to press my father, I could learn it from 
 his o%Yn lips. Please state the object of your coming 
 hither." 
 
 " To make the first advances in the latter days 
 that have come to him and me," he said ; ^' can I 
 say more ? To help him if he be in distress — and 
 to assist his son if he find the Avorld hard to cope 
 with. It is a romantic appearance, a romantic 
 penitence if you will, for not allowing your father 
 to spend my money as well as his own," he added, 
 with a slight curl of the lip, which turned Sidney 
 suddenly against him ; " but it is an effort to bridge 
 over the gulf to which you have recently alluded." 
 
 "•' I fear my father will not thank you for the 
 effort," was the cold reply; " and for the help which 
 you woidd offer now, I can answer for his re- 
 fusal." 
 
 " Ah ! he was always a proud fellow, and blind 
 to his own interest," was the quiet observation 
 here : '^ his friends laughed at his pride, and traded 
 in his weakness before you were born." 
 
 •^ He has one friend living who respects them no^^ , 
 sir. 
 
 e2
 
 244 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 " His son, I presume ?" 
 
 " His son, sir." 
 
 " I am glad that his son is so high-spirited ; but 
 he will find that amiable feeling rather in the way 
 of his advancement." 
 
 " No, sir — ^I think not." 
 
 ^Ir. Hinchford regarded Sidney very closely ; 
 he did not appear put out by the young man's 
 retorts, and he was pleased at the effect that his 
 own satire had upon him. 
 
 " Well," he said at last, " I have not come to 
 quarrel with my nephew — ^I am here as a peace- 
 maker, and, lo ! the son starts up with all the 
 father's old obstinacies. Your name is Sidney, I 
 believe." 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " Sidney Hinchford, then," said he, " if you be 
 a man of the w^orld — which I fancy you are — you 
 will not turn your back on your own interests for 
 the sake of the grudge which my unforgiving 
 brother may owe me. That's not the way of the 
 world, unless it's the w^orld of silly novel-writers and 
 poets."
 
 UNDER SUSPICIOX. 245 
 
 " Sir, this sudden interest in my father and my- 
 self is somewhat unaccountable." 
 
 " Granted," was the cool response. 
 
 '' Still, let me for my father and myself thank 
 you," said Sidney, with a graceful dignity that 
 set well upon him, " thank you for this sudden offer, 
 which I, for both, must unhesitatingly decline." 
 
 ^'Indeed!" 
 
 " We are not i-ich, you can see," Sidney said 
 with a comprehensive sweep of his hand, " but we 
 have managed to exist without getting into debt, 
 and I believe that the worst struggle is over with 
 us both." 
 
 ''Upon what supposition do you base this 
 theory?" 
 
 " No matter, Mr. Hinchford, my belief is strong, 
 and I would not deprive myself of the pleasure of 
 saying that I worked on with my father to the 
 higher ground without the help of those rich rela- 
 tions who would at the eleventh hour have taken 
 the credit to themselves." 
 
 " You are a remarkable young man." 
 
 " Sir, you come too late here," said Sidney, with
 
 246 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 no small amount of energy; "we bear you no ill- 
 will, but we will not have your help now. If you 
 and yours foro^ot my father in his adversity, if you 
 made no sign when he was troubled by my mother's 
 death, if you held aloof when assistance and sym- 
 pathy would have made amends for the old breach 
 between you, if you turned your backs upon him 
 and shut him from your thoughts then, now we 
 repudiate your service, and prefer to work our way 
 alone !" 
 
 '^ Well, well, be it so," said his uncle ; " it is 
 heroic, but it is bad policy, more especially in you, 
 a young man who will have to fight hard for a 
 competence. You will excuse this whim of mine." 
 
 " I have already thanked you for the good in- 
 tention." 
 
 " I did not anticipate encountering so hard 
 and dogmatic a disposition as your own, but I do 
 not res^ret the visit." 
 
 Sidney looked at his watch, fidgeted with the 
 feather of his pen, but made no remark to this. 
 
 " We will say it was a whim — you will please to 
 inform your father that this was simply a whim of
 
 UNDER SUSPICIOX. 247 
 
 mine — the impulse of a moment, after an extra 
 glass of port wine with my dessert." 
 
 "I will think so, if you wish it." 
 
 ^^You perceive that I am an old man — your 
 father's senior by eight years — and old people do 
 get whimsical and childish, when the iron in their 
 nerves melts, by some unaccountable process, away 
 from them. Possibly this is not the first time that 
 it has struck me that my brother James and I 
 might easily arrive at a better appreciation of each 
 other's character, if we sat down quietly face to 
 face, two old men as we have become. The sarcasm 
 that wounded him, and the passionate impulse 
 that iiTitated me, would have grown less with 
 our white hairs, I think. I don't know for cer- 
 tain — I cannot answer for a man who always would 
 take the wTong side of an argument, and stick to 
 it. By Gad ! how tightly he would stick to it I" 
 
 The old gentleman rapped his gold-headed cane 
 on the floor, and indulged in a little sharp laugh, 
 not unpleasant to hear. SicUiey repressed a smile, 
 and looked significantly at his watch again. 
 
 " You wish me gone, young sir," said his uncle.
 
 248 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 '' Candidly, I see no good result to arise from 
 your stay. My father is of an excitable disposi- 
 tion, and, I am sorry to say, neither so strong nor 
 so well as I could wish. I fear the shock would 
 be too much for him." 
 
 " 1 will take the hint," he said, rising ; " I hate 
 scenes, and if there is likely to be a second edition 
 of those covert reproaches with which you have 
 favoured me, why, it is best to withdraAV as grace- 
 fully as possible, under the circumstances. You 
 will tell him that I have called ?" 
 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 " You will tell him also — bear this in mind in- 
 stead of sucking your pen, will you? — that if he 
 owe me no ill-will, he will call on me next — that it 
 is his turn ! I never ask a man twice for anything 
 — except for the money he may owe me," he added, 
 drily. 
 
 " I will deliver your message, Mi\ Hinchford." 
 
 " Then I have the honour, sir, to apologize for 
 this intrusion, and to wish you a good evening." 
 
 He crossed the room and held out a thin white 
 hand to Sidney, looking vei-y strangely, very in-
 
 UNDER SUSPICION. 249 
 
 tently at him meanwhile. Sidney placed his own 
 within itj almost instinctively, and the two Hinch- 
 fords shook hands. 
 
 They parted ; Sidney thought that he had 
 finally taken his departure, when the door opened, 
 and he reappeared. 
 
 '' Do you mind showing me a light? — it's a cork- 
 screw staircase, leading to the bottomless pit, to all 
 appearances." 
 
 Sidney seized the table-lamp, and proceeded to 
 the top of the stairs, -sshich his uncle descended in 
 a slow and gingerly manner. At the first landing 
 he looked up, and said : 
 
 " That will do, thank you — remember, his turn 
 next — good evening." 
 
 Sidney went back to the room, and shortly 
 afterwards Mv. Hinchford, the great banker, the 
 owner of princely estates in three counties, was 
 whirled away westward in his carriage.
 
 250 MATTIE : A STRAY 
 
 CHAPTEK III. 
 
 Sidney's suggestion. 
 
 When !Mr. Hincliford returned home, Sidney re- 
 lated the particulars of the strange visit that he 
 had received ; and from the effect which the news 
 produced on his father, was grateful for the thought 
 which had prompted him to request his uncle's de- 
 partui'e. Sidney had noticed with sadness, lately, 
 that his father was easily disturbed, easily affected, 
 and it was satisfactory to know that it had been 
 judicious on his part to advise his uncle's retirement. 
 Mr. Hinchford tugged at his stock, held his 
 temples, passed his hands through his scanty hair, 
 puffed and blowed^ dropped his first cup of tea 
 over his knees, and did not subside into a moderate 
 state of calmness for at least a quarter of an hour 
 after the story had been told.
 
 UXDER SUSPICION. 251 
 
 " And so brother Geoffr j turns up at last I — well, 
 I thought he would." 
 
 Sidney looked with amazement at his father. 
 
 " He would have turned up years ago, I daresay, 
 if it hadn't been for his wife — she and I never 
 agreed ; but old steady, quiet Geoff ry, why, when 
 we w^ere boys, we were the best of friends." 
 
 " You certainly surprise me, father. Perhaps I 
 have done wrong in persuading him to depart. 
 But 1 always understood that it had been a 
 desperate quarrel between you, and that you 
 had almost taken an oath never to speak to him 
 again." 
 
 " That's all true enough, and it was a desperate 
 quarrel, and he was tight-fisted just then, and let 
 me drift into bankruptcy, rather than help me. 
 It wasn't brotherly, and I'll never forgive him — 
 never. How was the rascal looking, Sid ?" 
 
 " Like a spare likeness of yourself, sir." 
 
 " He's taller than I am by a good two inches. 
 We used to cut notches in the sides of all the doors, 
 when we w^ere boys ; comparing notes, we called 
 it. I suppose he's very much altered ?"
 
 252 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 " Well, never having seen liim before, it is diffi- 
 cult to say. But I have no doubt that there's a 
 difference in him since you met last." 
 
 " Let me see — it's five-and-twenty years ago, 
 come next February. Twenty-five years to nurse 
 a quarrel, and bear enmity in one's heart against 
 him. What a time !" 
 
 " He was anxious to tell me the story of that 
 quarrel, sir, but I declined to listen to it." 
 
 " I hope you weren't rude." 
 
 " Oh ! no, sir." 
 
 " You have a most unpleasant habit of blurting 
 out anything that comes uppermost. That's your 
 great failing, Sid." 
 
 " I like to speak out, sir." 
 
 " And after all, perhaps if we had spoken out 
 less — he and I — we should not have been all these 
 years at arm's length, and you might have been the 
 better for that. There's no telling, things turn 
 out so strangely. And it wasn't so much his refusal 
 to lend me, his only brother, ten thousand pounds 
 — ten drops of water to him — but the way in which 
 he refused, the bitterness of his words, the gall and
 
 UNDEE SUSPICION. 253 
 
 wormwood instead of brotherly sympathy. I was 
 half mad with my losses, and he stung me with his 
 cool and insolent taunts, and cast me off to beggary 
 — Sid, would you forgive that ?" 
 
 ^Ir. Hinchford had realized the scene again ; 
 through the mists of five-and-twenty years, it shone 
 forth vividly; his cheek flushed, and his hand smote 
 the table heavily, and made the tea things jump 
 again. 
 
 Sidney cooled him by a few words. 
 
 " He has been cautious with his money, and you 
 might have shown signs of being reckless with 
 yours, at that time. Possibly you both were heated, 
 and said more than you intended. It don't appear 
 to me to have been a very serious affair^ after all." 
 
 " Did he ever seek me out again, or care whether 
 I was alive or dead, until to-day ? — was that 
 kind?" 
 
 '* Did you ever seek him out f 
 
 " He was the rich man, and I the poor, Sid." 
 
 " Ah ! that makes a difference !" 
 
 '' AVhat would you have done ?" he asked 
 anxiouslv.
 
 254 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 " Kept away ; not because it was right or politic, 
 but because I inherit my father's pride." 
 
 " It's an odd legacy, Sid," remarked the father, 
 mournfully. 
 
 *^ I told him to-night we did not care about his 
 patronage, and could work our way in the world 
 — that at so late an hour, when the worst w^as over, 
 we w^ould prefer to thank ourselves for the result. 
 I don't say that I was right, father," he added ; 
 " but there was a satisfaction in saying so, and in 
 showing that w^e did not jump at any favour he 
 might think it friendly to concede." 
 
 • " You're a brave lad," remarked the father, re- 
 lapsing into thought again ; " and perhaps it is as 
 well to show we don't care for him. He talked 
 about my turn next, you say?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 ^' That means, that he'll never come here again, 
 or make another effort to be friends. Oh ! he's as 
 hard as iron wdien he says a thing, Sid." 
 
 " Shall I tell you what I have thought, sir ? — 
 it ffoes ao;ainst the foolish oath you took, but I think 
 you'll be forgiven for it."
 
 UXDER SUSPICION. 255 
 
 '^ What have you thought ?" he asked with eager- 
 ness. 
 
 " That it shall be our turn some day — some early 
 day, I hope — to visit him, and say: — ^ We are in a 
 good position in life, and above all help, shall we 
 be friends again ?" 
 
 " To walk into his counting-house, and surprise 
 him f cried the father ; " for me to say : — ^ I owe 
 all to my son's energy and cleverness, and can afford 
 to face you, without being suspected of wanting 
 your money.' Well, we ought to bear and forbear ; 
 I don't think it would be so very hard to make it up 
 with him !" 
 
 It was a subject that discomposed Mr. Hinchford 
 — that kept him restless and disturbed. His son 
 detected this, and brushed all the papers into a 
 heap, thrust them into the recesses of his desk, and 
 began hunting about for the backgammon-board. 
 The past had been ever a subject kept in the back- 
 ground, and of late years his father had not seemed 
 capable of hearing any news, good or bad, with a 
 fair semblance of- composure. The change in him 
 had been a matter of regret with Sidney; far off in
 
 256 MATTIE : A STKAY. 
 
 the distance, perhaps, there might loom a great 
 trouble for him — he almost fancied so at times. 
 Meanwhile, there were troubles nearer than that 
 fancied one — man is born unto them, as the sparks 
 fly upwards.
 
 UXDER SUSPICIOX. 257 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 PEEPLEXITY. 
 
 Harriet Wesden had spoken more than once to 
 Mattie of the Evelelahs, a family which plays no 
 part in these pages, although, from Harriet's know- 
 ledge of it, eveiy after page of this story will be 
 influenced. A Miss Eveleigh, an only daughter, and 
 a spoiled one, had been a schoolfellow of Harriet's ; 
 an intimacy had existed between them in the old 
 days, and when school days were ended for good, a 
 correspondence was kept up, which resulted, event- 
 ually, in flying visits to each other's houses — the 
 house in Camberwell, and ^liss Eveleigh's residence 
 at New Cross. 
 
 Harriet, during the last week or two, had been 
 spending her time at New Cross with the Eve- 
 leighs, much to the desolateness of the Camberwell 
 
 VOL. I. S
 
 258 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 domicile, and the dulness of Master Sidney Hinch- 
 ford. But the visit was at an end on the morning 
 of the day alluded to in our last chapter, and had it 
 not been for his father's excitability, Sidney, who 
 had mapped his plans out, would have abandoned 
 the backgammon board and a-wooing gone. 
 
 It was as well that he did not, for Harriet 
 Wesden at half-past seven in the evening entered 
 the stationer's shop, and surprised Mattie by her 
 late visit. 
 
 " Good gracious !" was Mattie's truly feminine 
 ejaculation, " who would have thought of seeing 
 you to-night ? How well you are looking — how 
 glad I am that you have come back — what a colour 
 you have got !" 
 
 " Have I ? " she said ; " ah I it's the sharp frost 
 that's in the streets to -night. Let me deliver 
 father's message, and hurry back before he gets 
 fidgety about me." 
 
 Harriet Wesden and Mattie went into the 
 parlour, Mattie taking up her position by the 
 door, so as to command the approach from the 
 street, Harriet sitting by the fire with her head
 
 UXDER SUSPICION. 259 
 
 against the chimney-piece. The message was de- 
 livered, sundry Httle account books were wanted 
 at once, and Harriet was to take them back with 
 her; Mattie had to find them in the shop, and 
 make them up into a httle parcel for our heroine. 
 
 When she returned, Harriet was in the same 
 position, staring very intently at the fire. 
 
 " Is anything the matter ?" asked our heroine. 
 
 '' Oh ! no — what should be the matter, dear ?" 
 ■ '' You're very thoughtful, and it's not exactly 
 your look, Miss Harriet." 
 
 *' Fancies again, Mattie," remarked Harriet : 
 " I'm only a little th'ed, having walked from Cam- 
 berwell." 
 
 " I hope you'll not walk back — it's getting late. 
 Unless," she added, archly, " Mr. Sidney up- 
 stairs is to see you safely home. That must be one 
 of the nicest parts of courtship, to go arm-in-arm 
 together about the streets — to feel yourself safe 
 with him at your side." 
 
 Harriet's thoughtful demeanour vanished; she 
 gave a merry laugh at the gTavity with which 
 ^Mattie delivered this statement, taunted Mattie
 
 260 MATT IE : A STRAY. 
 
 with having thoughts of a lover running in her 
 head, darted from that subject to the pleasant fort- 
 night she had been spending with the Eveleighs at 
 New Cross, detailed the particulars of her visit, 
 the people to whom she had been introduced, and 
 lively little incidents connected with them — finally 
 caught up her parcel and bade Mattie good night. 
 
 "Ah! you'll wait till I call down Mr. Sidney, 
 I'm sure." 
 
 " He'll think that I have called for him. No, 
 I'm going home alone to-night." 
 
 " Why, what will he say f 
 
 " Tell him that I was in a hurry, going home by 
 omnibus to save time, and appease father's ner- 
 vousness about me. I will not have any danglers 
 in my train to-night. I'm in a bad temper — 
 nervous, irritable and excitable — I shall only offend 
 him." 
 
 " Then something has " 
 
 " Good night, flattie — oh ! I had nearly for- 
 gotten to ask you to dine with us on Sunday; you'll 
 be sure to come early ?" 
 
 " Who told you to say that ?"
 
 UNDER SUSPICION. 261 
 
 " Why, my father, to be sure." 
 
 " I'm glad of it — I'm glad he thinks better of 
 me," Mattie cried ; " oh ! Miss Harriet, you don't 
 know how miserable I have been in my heart, lest 
 he — lest he has thought differently of me lately ! " 
 
 " More fancies ! I have always said that they 
 were fancies, Mattie." 
 
 " Ah! I guess pretty near to the truth sometimes." 
 
 "And tease yourself with a false idea more 
 often — why, you will imagine that / shall think 
 differently of you presently." 
 
 " No — I don't think you will." 
 
 " Never, Mattie." 
 
 "God bless you for that! — if ever I'm in trouble 
 I shall look to you to defend me." 
 
 " And in my trouble, Mattie f was the half- 
 laughing rejoinder. 
 
 • " I'll think of you only, fight for you against all 
 your enemies — die for you, if it will do any good. 
 Oh! Miss Harriet, you are gromng up a lady very 
 far above me, getting out of my reach like, you 
 won't forget the little girl you were kind to, and 
 shut her wholly from your heart f
 
 262 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 Harriet Wesclen was touched ; ever a sensitive 
 girl, the sight of another's sorrow struck home. 
 She went back a step or two into the parlour. 
 
 " This isn't like the old Mattie," she said, " the 
 Mattie who always looked at the brightest side of 
 life, and made the best of every difficulty. Is that 
 silly affair of the robbery still preying on your 
 mind?" 
 
 " On your father's perhaps — not on mine." 
 
 '^ Then I'll fight the battle for you to begin with 
 — if there be really one doubt in my father's heart, 
 I'll charge it from it's hiding-place to-night. Per- 
 haps I have been wrapped up too much lately in 
 my own selfish thoughts when I might have helped 
 you, Mattie. Will you forgive me ?" 
 
 She stooped and kissed Mattie, whose arms closed 
 round her for a minute with a loving clasp. 
 
 " I'm better now,'' said Mattie, " it was fancy, 
 perhaps, a fancy that you, too, were going further 
 away from me — perhaps thinking ill of me. For 
 you were cold and distant when you came here 
 first to-night." 
 
 "No, no."
 
 UNDER SUSPICION. 2 63 
 
 " Well, that was my fancy, too, it's very likely. 
 I'll say good night now, for it's getting late." 
 
 " Good night, then." 
 
 At the door she paused and returned. 
 
 " Mattie, put on your bonnet and come with me 
 to the end of the street where the omnibus passes. 
 I'm nervous to-night — ^I don't care to walk alone 
 about these streets again." 
 
 " Let me call Mr. Sid " 
 
 " No, no ; you — not him !" she interrupted. 
 
 " I never leave the shop, Mss Harriet ; it's my 
 trust, and your father would not like it. Shall 
 Ann " 
 
 " Oh ! it does not matter much ; you have only 
 made me nervous. I'm very wrong to seek to 
 take you from the business, and father so particu- 
 lar and fidgety. I daresay no one will fly away 
 with me. Goodnight, my dear." 
 
 She went away with a bright smile at her own 
 nervousness. That was the last gleam of brightness 
 there for awhile ! 
 
 After that there settled on her face a con- 
 fused expression, often a sad, always a thoughtful
 
 264 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 one, with a long look ahead, as it were from the 
 depths of her blue eyes. From that night 
 there was a change in her ; Mattie, quick of ob- 
 servation, was the first to detect it. It was a face 
 of trouble, and Mattie, seeing it now^ and then, 
 could note the shadows deepen. Sidney observed 
 it next, detected with a lover's jealous scrutiny a 
 difference in her manner towards him, a something 
 new which was colder and less friendly, and yet 
 not demonstrative enough for him to murmur 
 against, even if his half engagement had permitted 
 him. 
 
 He asked her once if he had offended her, and 
 she replied in the negative, and was kinder to- 
 wards him for that night ; but the reserve, indiffer- 
 ence, coldness, or wdiatever it was, came back, and 
 perplexed Sidney Hinchford more than he cared 
 to own. The year of his novitiate was approach- 
 ing to an end, and he thought that he could afford 
 to wait till then ; she was not tiring of him and his 
 attentions, he had too good an opinion of himself 
 to believe that ; at times he solaced himself with 
 the idea that she was reflecting on the gravity of
 
 LXDER SUSPICION. 265 
 
 the next step, that formal engagement to be married 
 in the future to him. 
 
 Mattie and Sidney were both observers of some 
 power, for after all they saw through the bright 
 side — the forced side — of her. For the father and 
 mother was reserved Harriet Wesden with her 
 mask off. 
 
 Fathers and mothers are strangely blind to the 
 causes of their daughters' ailments — this humble 
 pair formed no exception to the rule. They were 
 perplexed with her fits of brooding, her forced efforts 
 to rally when taxed with them, her pallor, loss of 
 appetite, red eyes and restless looks in the morn- 
 ing. ^Ir. Wesden, a suspicious man to the world in 
 general, was the most trustful and simple as re- 
 garded his daughter ; he did not know the depth of 
 his love for her until she began to look ill, and 
 then he almost worried her into a real illness by 
 his suggestions and anxiety. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Wesden had many secret confabu- 
 lations concerning the change in Harriet ; potter- 
 ing over a hundred fusty ideas, TN^ith never a thought 
 as to the true one.
 
 266 MATTIE : A STEAY. 
 
 Was Camberwell disagreeing with her ? — was 
 the house damp, or her room badly situated ? — had 
 not the dear girl change enough, society enough ? 
 — what icas the matter? Mr. Wesden set it down 
 for "a low way" — an unaccountable complaint 
 from which people suffer at times, and for which 
 change of scene is good. 
 
 So he set to work studying the matter, originat- 
 ing small excursions for the day, submitting her to 
 the healthy excitement of the winter course of lec- 
 tures at the infant schools in the vicinity — lectures 
 on artificial memory, on hydrostatics with experi- 
 ments, on the poets with experiments also, and 
 unaccountable ones they were — even once ven- 
 tured into a box of the Surrey Theatre, and began 
 to flatter himself and wife that at last Harriet was 
 rapidly improving. 
 
 But Harriet Wesden was only learning rapidly 
 to disguise that "something" which was perplexing 
 her more and more with every day ; learning to 
 subdue her parents' anxiety, and sinking a little 
 deeper all the new thoughts. But the whirl of 
 events brought the secret uppermost, and betrayed
 
 UNDER SUSPICIOX. 267 
 
 her — she was forced to make a confidante, and she 
 thought of Mattie, who had always loved her, and 
 stood her friend — flattie, in whom she was sure 
 was the only one she could trust. 
 
 The confidence was placed suddenly, and at a 
 time when Mattie was scarcely prepared for it — 
 Mattie who yet, by some strange instinct, had been 
 patiently waiting for it. 
 
 '^ I believe when that girl's in trouble, she will 
 come to me," Mattie thought, " for she knows I 
 would do anything to serv^e her. Have I any one 
 to love except her in the world? — is there any one 
 who requires so much love to keep her, what I call, 
 strong?" 
 
 Mattie had seen that Harriet Wesden was not 
 strong — that she was tender-hearted, affection- 
 ate, and weak — that there were times when she 
 might give way without a strong heart and a stout 
 hand to assist her. She had been a weak, im- 
 pulsive, passionate child— she had grown up a 
 woman very different to Mattie, whose firmness, 
 and even hardness, had made Harriet won- 
 der more than once. And Mattie had often
 
 268 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 wondered at Harriet in her turn — at her vanity 
 and romantic ideas, and made excuses for her, as 
 we all do, for those we love very dearly. She had 
 even feared for her, until the half engagement 
 with Sidney Hinchford had taken place, and then 
 she had noticed that Harriet had become more 
 staid and womanly, and was glad in her heart that 
 it had happened thus. 
 
 Then finally and suddenly the last change 
 swept over the surface of things — all the worse for 
 our characters perhaps, but infinitely better for our 
 story, which takes a new lease of life from this 
 page.
 
 UXDER SUSPICION. 269 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 ME. TN'ESDEN TURNS ECCENTRIC. 
 
 The nights "drew in" more and more; and nearer 
 and nearer with the shortest day approached the 
 end of Sidney Hinchford's probation. Only a 
 week or two between the final explanations of Sid's 
 position — of his chances in the future perhaps — 
 everything very quiet and still at Suffolk Street 
 and Camberwell — a deceptive calm before the storm 
 that was brewing. 
 
 Harriet Wesden called more frequently at the 
 stationer's shop ; she was glad to escape from the 
 long evenings at home, and the watchful, ever 
 anxious eyes of her father, and it w^as easy to frame 
 an excuse to repair to Great Suffolk Street. Occa- 
 sionally Sidney Hinchford knew of her propin-
 
 270 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 quity, and escorted her home — more often missed 
 his chances of a tete-a-teie — three or four times, 
 and greatly to his annoyance, crossed her in the 
 journey, and reached Camberwell to spend the 
 evening with a fidgety old man and his invalid 
 spouse. 
 
 At this time it also happened that Sidney Hinch- 
 ford fell into a dreamy absent way, for which there 
 appeared no valid reasons, unless he had become 
 alive to the doubts of Harriet's affection for him ; 
 an absence of mind, and even an irritability, which 
 was disguised well enough from the father — before 
 whom Sidney was more or less an actor — but which 
 Mattie, ever on the watch, was quick as usual to 
 detect. 
 
 She had become puzzled by Harriet's abstraction, 
 and had looked for its reflex at once in Sidney 
 Hinchford's face — finding it there, as she thought, 
 after a while. 
 
 Mattie, left in the dark as to the truth, and 
 every day becoming more of a young woman, who 
 knew her place, and felt the distance between her 
 master's daughter, her master's lodgers, and her-
 
 UNDER SUSPICION. 271 
 
 self, could but draw her own conclusions, and 
 frame a story from them. 
 
 Harriet and Sidney had quarrelled, and were 
 keeping their quarrel a secret from the good folk 
 at Camberwell ; something had happened to cast a 
 gloom on the way that Mattie thought would be 
 ever bright and rosy, and each day they who 
 should have been lovers seemed drifting further 
 apart. She would have liked to play the part of 
 mediator between them — to see them friends again 
 — but her position held her back, and she had not 
 the courage of a year ago. Those two young 
 lovers had been the bright figures in her past — her 
 life had somehow become blended with them, and 
 she felt that her interest was of a cumulative 
 character, and not likely to die out with her riper 
 womanhood. She could not disassociate her mind 
 away from them ; at every turn in her career they 
 were before her — they haunted her thoughts, and 
 harassed her with their seeming inconsistencies of 
 conduct. She did not understand them, for the 
 clue to the inner life was absent from her; she 
 could not see why Harriet was not a girl to love
 
 272 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 this young man with all her heart, as she was 
 loved — she felt that there was an assimilation be- 
 tween the strength of one, and the weakness that 
 needed support in the other; and that Sidney's 
 earnest love should have more deeply impressed 
 a heart naturally susceptible to anything that was 
 honest and true. 
 
 And yet Harriet grew paler, and looked dis- 
 turbed in mind, and Sidney Hinchford came home 
 from business every day with a deeper shade of 
 thought upon his face. He went less often to Cam- 
 berwell also — she took notice of that — and stayed 
 up late at night in the drawing-room, after having 
 deluded his father into the belief that he should 
 be only a few moments after him. All was 
 mystery in Suffolk Street, denser than the fogs 
 which crept thither so often in the winter time. 
 
 Mr. Wesden, before retiring from business, had 
 left strict orders with Mattie to be the last to go 
 round the house, and see, in particular, to the gas 
 burners, and the bolts which Ann Packet was con- 
 tinually leaving unfastened, and had once received 
 warning for in Mr. Wesden's time. Mattie had in-
 
 UNDER SUSPICIOX. 273 
 
 junctions to see to the drawincr-room burners as 
 well; to wait to an hour however late for the Hinch- 
 ford exit. 
 
 This waiting up became a serious matter when 
 Sidney Hinchford remained in the di'awing-room 
 till the small hours of the morning, and brooded 
 over his papers, with which one table or another 
 was invariably strewn. INIattie, a young woman 
 of business, who did a fair day's work, and rose 
 early, ventured to remonstrate at last ; it was in- 
 trenching beyond her pro\^nce, but she made the 
 plunge in a manner very nervous and new to her 
 — in a manner that even confused herself a little. 
 
 He brought the remonstrance upon himself by 
 coming down into the shop to hunt for some writ- 
 ing paper, which he intended to pay for in the 
 morning, and was a little surprised to find Mattie 
 sewing briskly in the back parlour. 
 
 " Up still, Mattie ! — late hours for you," he said. 
 
 " Ah ! and for you, too, sir." 
 
 " Men can do with little rest, and I never 
 leave one day's work for the next," said he, in that 
 quick manner which had become habitual to him, 
 
 VOL. I. T
 
 274 M ATT IE ; A STRAY. 
 
 and whicli appeared, to strangers, tinged with more 
 abruptness than was really intended. "I was 
 thinking of robbing your stationery drawer, Mattie, 
 and lo the thief is detected in the act." 
 
 " Oh ! I hope you do not intend any more work 
 to-night, sir." 
 
 "Why not?" he asked, his eyes expressing a 
 mild sort of surprise through his spectacles. 
 
 " I'm waiting to see the gas out in that table- 
 lamp." 
 
 " Can't I see to it myself ?" 
 
 "I thought so until I found the tap in the 
 india-rubber pipe turned full on last night." 
 
 " Did you sit up last night, too ?" 
 
 '' Mr. Wesden has always wished that I should 
 make sure everything was safe." 
 
 " But I'm busy just now ; you mustn't be a slave 
 as well as myself." 
 
 " I hope you're not a slave, Mr. Sidney," said 
 Mattie, assuming that half -familiar style of con- 
 versation which was natural to her with her two 
 old friends, and which always escaped in spite of 
 of her, " or that you will not keep one much longer,
 
 UNDER SUSPICION. 275 
 
 for it's not improving your looks, I can tell 
 
 you." 
 
 " You can tell me," said Sidney ; " well, what's 
 the matter "v\4th my looks, Mattie ?" 
 
 Mattie looked steadily at him. 
 
 " You're paler than you used to be," she said 
 after a while ; " you're not like yourself ; you've 
 something on your mind." 
 
 Sidney frowned, rubbed his hair up the wrong- 
 way, after his father's fashion, cleared off suddenly 
 and then laughed. 
 
 " Who hasn't ?" was his reply. 
 
 " There's nothing which can't easily be got 
 over, or my name isn't Mattie," said our heroine, 
 with great firmness. 
 
 She was full of her one reason for all this 
 thought on his side, and the confusion and per- 
 plexity on Harriet's, and she delivered her hint 
 emphatically. 
 
 " I don't despair of getting over most things," 
 he said, with a forced lightness that did not deceive 
 his observer ; " there's only one thing in the way 
 that bothers me." 
 
 t2
 
 276 MATTIE : A STEAY. 
 
 He said it more to himself than Mattie, who 
 cried, instinctively — 
 
 "What's that, sir?" 
 
 " Why, that's my secret," he responded, shutting 
 np on the instant ; " and I shall keep it till the 
 last." 
 
 He had turned very stern and rigid ; Mattie felt 
 that she had crossed the line of demarcation, and 
 withdrew into herself and her needle-work with a 
 sigh. 
 
 Sidney Hinchf ord shook himself away from that 
 dark thought instanter. 
 
 "You're as curious as ever, Mattie — you'll be 
 a true woman. I would not be your husband for 
 the world." 
 
 Mattie felt herself crimson on the instant, and 
 a strange wild commotion in her heart ensued, 
 more unaccountable than the mystery which 
 had deepened around her. They were light, idle 
 words of his, but they made her cheeks flush and 
 her bosom heave ; he spoke in jest, almost in sar- 
 casm, but the words rang in her ears as though he
 
 UXDER SUSPICION. 277 
 
 had thundered them forth with all the power of his 
 lungs. 
 
 When all this Suffohv Street life was over ; when 
 she and he, when she and they whom she loved had 
 gone their separate ways, when she was an old 
 woman, she remembered Sidney Hinchford's 
 words. 
 
 Still she flashed back the jesting reply — or what- 
 ever it was — with a quickness that was startling. 
 
 " You'll wait till you're asked," she said. 
 
 At this moment some one knocked at the outer- 
 door. 
 
 " Hollo ! — a late customer like me," said Sidney, 
 opening the door as he was nearer to it, and then 
 staring with surprise at the person who had arrived 
 — no less a person than IMr. Wesden himself. 
 
 '' Hollo !" he said again ; '^ nothing wrong, sir, 
 1 hope?" 
 
 " Xot at hon^e," was the dry response. ^' Is any- 
 thing wrong here ?" 
 
 "Oh! no." 
 
 He entered, took the door-handle from Sidney, 
 and closed the door himself, turned the key in the
 
 278 mattie: a steay. 
 
 lock, and drew the bolts to. Sidney Hinchford 
 thought Mr. Wesken looked very nervous that 
 evening — very different from his usual stolid 
 way. 
 
 " You're quite sure — quite sure that it's all right, 
 sir ?" asked Sidney, his thoughts flashing to Har- 
 riet again. 
 
 "I said so; I never tell an untruth, Sidney. 
 Good night." 
 
 "Good night, sir. Oh!" turning back, "the 
 letter-paper, Mattie — I had forgotten." 
 
 Mr. Wesden watched the transfer of the writing 
 paper from the drawer to Sidney Hinchford's 
 hands, glanced furtively from Sidney to flattie, 
 gradually unwinding a woollen ^comforter from 
 his neck meanwhile. 
 
 When Sidney had withdrawn, very much per- 
 plexed, but too dignified to ask any more ques- 
 tions, Mr. Wesden turned to Mattie. 
 
 "What's he doing down here at this time of 
 night, Mattie f 
 
 " He came for writing paper — he's very busy." 
 
 " What are you sitting up for ?"
 
 UNDER SUSPICION. 279 
 
 "To see to the gas-burners in the drawing- 
 room." 
 
 " Turn the gas off at the meter, and leave him 
 in the dark next time," said Mr. Wesden. "You 
 can go to bed now. I'll sit up for a little while ; 
 I'm going to sleep here to-night." 
 
 '"Indeed, sir! Oh! sir, I hope that nothing 
 serious has happened ? " 
 
 "Nothing at all. It's not so very wonderful 
 that I should come to my own house, I suppose, 
 Mattie r 
 
 " N — no," she answered, hesitating ; " but it's 
 past one o'clock," 
 
 "I couldn't sleep — and Harriet was at home 
 with the good lady," he said, as if byway of excuse; 
 adding v^ry sulldly, a moment afterwards, "I never 
 could sleep in that Camberwell place — I wish I'd 
 never left the shop ! " 
 
 Mr. Wesden hazarded no further reason for his 
 eccentric arrival, and Mattie went upstairs to lay 
 it with the rest of her stock of mysteries daily ac- 
 cumulating round her. Mr. Wesden remained 
 downstairs, fidgeting with shop drawers, counting
 
 280 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 the money left in the till, and wandering up and 
 down in a reckless, hypochondriacal fashion, very 
 remarkable in a man of his phlegmatic temper- 
 ament, and which it was as well for Mattie not to 
 have seen. 
 
 Finally he groped his way downstairs into the 
 kitchen, and the coal-cellar where the gas-meter 
 was placed, and with a wrench cut off the supply 
 of gas for that night, casting Sidney Hinchford so 
 suddenly into darkness, that he leaped up with an 
 exclamation far from appropriate to his character. 
 "What the devil next?" 
 
 The next thing for Sidney was to knock over 
 the chair he had been sitting upon, which came 
 down on the drawing-room floor with a bumping 
 noise that shook the house, and woke up his father, 
 who shouted forth his name. 
 ' " Coming, coming," said Sidney, walking into 
 the double-bedded room, and giving up further 
 study or brooding for that night. 
 
 " What's the matter, Sid, my boy ? " asked the 
 father, from the corner ; " haven't you been in bed 
 yet?"
 
 UNDER SUSPICION. 281 
 
 " Must have fallen asleep in tlie next room, I 
 think." 
 
 " And a terrible row you've made in waking, 
 Sid. Good night, my boy — God bless you !" 
 
 The old gentleman tm'ned on his side, and was 
 soon indulging in the snores of the just again. 
 There was a night-light burning there, and Sidney 
 took it from its saucer of water and held it above 
 his head, looking down at that old, world-worn, 
 yet handsome face of the father. 
 
 " God bless youT he said, re-echoing his father's 
 benediction ; " how will you bear it when the time 
 comes, I wonder ? "
 
 282 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 A BURST OF CONFIDENCE. 
 
 Yes, Mr. Wesden, late of Suffolk Street, had be- 
 come nervous and eccentric in his old age — many 
 people do, besides stationers. He had retired from 
 business too late to enjoy the relaxation from busi- 
 ness cares ; he had better have died in harness 
 than have given up the shop, for isolation there- 
 from began to work its evil. 
 
 He had not had much to worry him in his 
 middle age ; his youth had been a struggle, but he 
 had been young and strong to bear with it, blest 
 by a homely and affectionate wife, who struggled 
 with him and consoled him ; then had followed 
 for more years than we care to reckon just now, 
 the every-day life of a London shopkeeper — a life 
 of business-making and money-making, plodding
 
 UNDER SUSPICIOX. 283 
 
 on in one groove, with little change to distract 
 his attention, or trouble his brain. All quiet 
 and monotonous, but possessing for John Wes- 
 den peace of mind, which, if not exactly happi- 
 ness, was akin to it. And now in his old age, 
 when every habit had been burned into him as 
 it were, business was over, and idleness became 
 a sore trial to him. And then after idleness 
 came his daughter to wony him, not to mention 
 Mattie, who worried him most of all, for reasons 
 which we shall more closely particularize a chapter 
 or two hence. 
 
 So with these troubles bearing all at once upon 
 a mind that had been at its ease in its stronger 
 days, ^Ir. Wesden turned eccentric. AYant of 
 method rendered him fidgety, the mysteries in his 
 path, as well as Mattie' s, perplexed him ; he was 
 verging upon hypochondriacism without being 
 aware of it himself ; and that suspicious nature 
 which had been born with him, began to develop 
 itself more, and give promise of bearing forth 
 bitter fruit. Possibly before his concern for his 
 laughter's health, was his concern for the shop in
 
 284 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 Great Suffolk Street, wliich he considered that he 
 had neglected in leaving to the charge of a girl not 
 eighteen years of age, and which, since the robbery, 
 was an oppression that weighed heavily upon him. 
 He was full of fancies concerning that shop ; his 
 mind — which unfortunately was fed by fancies at 
 that time — began to give way somewhat when he 
 took it in his head to think something had hap- 
 pened, at twelve o'clock at night, and start at once 
 for Great Suffolk Street, as we have noticed in our 
 preceding chapter. 
 
 The ice once broken, the eccentricities of Mr. 
 Wesden did not dim.inish; he had his old bed- 
 room seen to in the house again, and surprised 
 Mattie more than once after this by sudden ap- 
 pearances at untimely hours. He had a right to 
 look after his business — did people think that he 
 had lost his interest in the shop, because he lived 
 away from it ? — did people think that he was not 
 sharp enough for business still ? With these 
 changes he became more nervous, more irritable, 
 and less considerate ; yet brightening up sometimes 
 for weeks together, and becoming his old stolid self
 
 UNDEK SUSPICION. 285 
 
 a^ain, to the relief of his wife and daughter. That 
 daughter detected the change in her father also, 
 woke up at last to the fact that her own thought- 
 fulness had tended to unsettle him, and became 
 more like her old self also — or rather, more of an 
 actress, with the power to personate that self from 
 which she had seceded. 
 
 Everything was going wrong with our characters, 
 when Harriet Wesden broke through the ice one 
 night with that impulsiveness which she had not 
 lived down or grown out of. It was strange that 
 she always broke down in Mattie's presence; 
 that only in the company of the stray did she 
 feel the wish to avow all, and seek counsel in 
 return. To Harriet AYesden the impulse was in- 
 comprehensible, but it was beyond her strength, at 
 times, and carried her away. She loved Mattie ; 
 she saw in her the faithful friend rather than the 
 servant ; she knew that the child's passionate love 
 for her had grown with Mattie's growth, and 
 absorbed her being. But love was but half the 
 reason with Han^iet, and she would not own — 
 which was the secret^ — that the weak and timid
 
 286 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 nature sought relief from a mind that had grown 
 strong and practical in a rough school. 
 
 A need of sympathy, a perplexity becoming 
 greater every day, allied to a love for the confi- 
 dante, brought about the truth, which escaped in 
 the old fashion. 
 
 She had been pajdng her visit — an afternoon 
 one in this instance — to Mattie at the shop ; it was 
 a dull season, and no business stirring ; the 
 December gloom preyed upon the spirits of most 
 people abroad that day ; it affected Harriet more 
 than usual, or the pressure of the old thoughts re- 
 duced her to subjection at last. The two girls were 
 sitting by the fireside, Mattie with her face turned 
 to the shop door, when Harriet Wesden laid both 
 her hands suddenly on our heroine's. 
 
 ^* Mattie," she cried, "look me in the face a 
 moment !" 
 
 "Come round to the little light there is left, then." 
 
 "There!" 
 
 Harriet Wesden set her pretty face, pale and 
 anxious then, more into the light required. Mattie 
 regarded it attentively.
 
 UXDER SUSPICION. 287 
 
 "Isn't it a false face?" asked Harriet, in an 
 excited manner — " the face of one who brings 
 
 o 
 
 sorrow and wroncr to all who know her ?" 
 
 o 
 
 " I hope not." 
 
 " It is I" she asserted. " Oh ! Mattie, I am in 
 distress, and terrible doubt — I have been foohsh, 
 and acted inconsiderately — I am in a maze, that 
 becomes more tangled with every step I take — 
 tell me what to do !" 
 
 " You ought to know best, dear — you should not 
 have any troubles which you are afraid to confess 
 to your father and mother, and — and Mr. Hinch- 
 ford." 
 
 "Yes, yes, but not to them first of all," she 
 cried. " Oh I Mattie, I am not a wicked girl, God 
 knows — I have never had a thought of wickedness 
 — I would like everybody in the world to be as 
 happy as I was once myself." 
 
 " Once !" repeated !Mattie. " Oh ! I won't have 
 that." 
 
 " I don't think," she added, very thoughtfully 
 regarding the fire, " that I shall be ever happy 
 again. Now, Mattie dear, I'm going to swear you
 
 288 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 to secrecy, and then ask what yon wonld do in 
 my place." 
 
 " You're very kind to trust in me — but is there 
 no one else ? — Miss Eveleigh, for instance." 
 
 " She's a worse silly than I am ! " 
 
 " Your mother." 
 
 " I should frighten her to death — she and father 
 are both weak, and altering very much. Oh! 
 Mattie, if they should die and leave me alone in 
 the world !" 
 
 "Need you get nervous about that just now ?" 
 
 " I'm nervous about everything — I'm unsettled 
 — Mattie, I have acted very treacherously to /izm." 
 
 "To Mr. Sidney!— not to Mr. Sidney?" 
 
 " Yes," was the answer. 
 
 Mattie became excited. How had it occurred ? 
 — who had done it ? — who had stolen her thoughts 
 away from him ? 
 
 " I have been trying very hard to love him — 
 sometimes I think I do love him better than the — 
 the other — just for a while, when he is very happy 
 sitting near me, and very full of the future, that can 
 never, never come."
 
 UNDER SUSPICION. 289 
 
 " Go on, please," said the curious Mattie. 
 
 " Mattie, you remember ^ir. Darcy f she asked, 
 spasmodically. 
 
 " ^Ii'. Darcy — no," said the puzzled Mattie. 
 
 " The gentleman who — who fell in love with me 
 when I was a child," she explained, very rapidly, 
 and with still greater excitement, "whom I thought 
 I had fori^otten, and who had forgotten me, until I 
 met him again." 
 
 " Oh ! this is \vrong !" exclaimed Mattie. 
 
 "I know it — I have owned it!" cried Harriet ; 
 " let me tell the story out. I met him, parted 
 coldly from him, met him again, all by accident on 
 my part; met him for a third time at the Eveleighs, 
 with whom he had got on visiting terms ; met him 
 day after day, evening after evening there, until 
 the spell was on me which overpowered me, and 
 robbed me of my peace — until I loved him, 
 Mattie!" 
 
 " And he knows " 
 
 " He knows nothing, save that I am engaged to 
 be another's — and that I dare scarcely think of 
 him." 
 
 VOL. I. ^'
 
 290 MATTIE : A STKAY. 
 
 " He knows too much, / know," said Mattie, re- 
 flectively; " and he has found a way to turn you 
 against Mr. Sidney. What a wonder he must be ! " 
 
 " Poor Sidney !" 
 
 " And to think it's all over between you and 
 him," added Mattie — " him who thinks so much of 
 you, and is growing old to my eyes, with the fear 
 upon him which I understand now, and which is 
 now so natural !" 
 
 "What fear f 
 
 " Of losing you." 
 
 " I am so sorry — so very sorry for him. And I 
 am ashamed to think that I have led him on to 
 build his hopes upon me, and now must dash them 
 down." 
 
 " Yes — to-night," said Mattie, thoughtfully. 
 
 " To-night !" exclaimed Harriet, in alarm. 
 
 " I don't know much about these things — I never 
 understood what love for a young man was, having 
 had too much to do," she added, with a little laugh 
 that echoed strangely in that shadowy room, " but 
 it don't seem quite the thing to keep the two on, 
 or both of them in suspense about you."
 
 UNDER SUSPICION. 291 
 
 " Do you think I Avould ?" asked Harriet, proudly. 
 
 " It seems to me that if I were in your place, I 
 should take a pattern from Mr. Sidney, and speak 
 out at once — go straight at it, as he calls it — and 
 tell him everything." 
 
 "But " 
 
 Mattie became excited in her turn. 
 
 ^' It isn't right — it isn't fair to let a man keep 
 thinking of you, when you've turned against him," 
 she cried ; " it's cowardly and base to hide the 
 truth from him, or be afraid of telling it. It won't 
 kill him, Harriet, for he's a proud spirit, that will 
 bear up through it all, bitterly as he will feel it for 
 a while." 
 
 "I'm not afraid — it is not that," said Harriet; 
 " I only wish to know what you would think the 
 best method of telling him all, and yet sparing him 
 pain. I have been fancying that if you hinted to 
 him at first the truth " 
 
 " /hint !" exclaimed Mattie, "not for the world. 
 I'm only a servant here, and you might as well ask 
 poor Ann Packet to hint the truth as me. I'm 
 sorry — you will never know how sorry I am — that 
 
 u2
 
 292 MATTIE : A STllAY. 
 
 you two are ^oing to break it off for ever ; but I 
 should be more sorry still if you let to-night go by, 
 and not try hard to face him." 
 
 " flattie, I will face him," said Harriet, with her 
 lips compressed ; " I will tell him all. After all, it 
 was not an engagement, and I was as free as he 
 to make my choice elsewhere if I preferred. I am 
 not in the wrong to tell him that my girlish fancy 
 was a mistake." 
 
 '' No — only in the w^rong to keep the truth 
 back." 
 
 " You will not think that I have intentionally at- 
 tempted to deceive poor Sidney, will you?" 
 " God forbid, my dear." 
 
 " Vain — frivolous, and weak — anything but 
 cruel. Yes, I will tell him all when he comes 
 back to-night. There is no use in delay." 
 
 " Only danger," added Mattie, remembering her 
 copy-book admonition ; a copy which Sidney 
 Hinchford had set her himself in the old days, 
 wdien she was deep in text-hand. 
 
 " And then when it is all told, and he knows 
 that I am free, happiness will come again, I
 
 UXDER SUSPICIOX. 293 
 
 suppose. Heigho ! I was very happy once." 
 
 " Happiness will come again," said Mattie, more 
 cheerfully, " to l^e sure." 
 
 " Mattie, I have been trjang vers^ hard to think 
 of ^Ir. Sidney, first of all ; it is that trying which 
 has made me ill. I know he loves me very much, 
 and will never think of anybod}' else; audit is — it 
 is hard upon him now !" 
 
 '^ You must be very fond of this other one," said 
 Mattie. " Is he handsome ?" 
 
 a Yevyr 
 
 " And very fond of you, of course ?" 
 
 " Yes ; but it is a struggle to keep his love back 
 — I am cold to him — and I — I will not listen to 
 him, and so drive him to despair. Oh ! I am a 
 miserable wretch ! I make everybody unhappy 
 whom I meet." 
 
 The weak girl burst into tears, and rocked her- 
 self to and fro on the chair before the fire. Mat- 
 tie passed her arms round her neck and drew the 
 pretty agitated face to her bosom, soothing it there 
 as thoucrh she had been a mother troubled with 
 
 o 
 
 love-sick daughters of her own.
 
 294 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 " It will soon be over now," Mattie said, when 
 Harriet was more composed. " Try and be calm ; 
 think of what you shall say to poor Sidney, wdiile 
 I attend to the shop a bit." 
 
 Mattie went into the shop, leaving Harriet 
 Wesden with her chin clutched in both hands, look- 
 ing dreamily at the fire. She was more composed 
 now the wdiole truth had escaped her ; she felt that 
 she should be hapy^y in time, after Sidney Hinch- 
 ford had been told all, and that terrible ordeal of 
 telling it had been gone through. One more scene, 
 which had made her shudder to forestall by 
 sober thought, and then the new life, brighter and 
 rosier from that day ! 
 
 Poor Sidney, what should she say to him, to 
 soften the look which would rise to his dark eyes 
 and transfix her ? What was best to say and do, 
 to keep him from thinking ill of her, and despising 
 her for vacillation ? 
 
 Mattie came in, looking white and scared; but 
 Harriet, possessed by a new thought which had 
 suddenly dashed in upon her, failed to observe the 
 change.
 
 UNDER SUSPICIOX. 295 
 
 " Mattie, dear," she cried, " if he should think I 
 give him up because he's poorer than Mr. Darcy — 
 that it is for the sake of money that I turn away 
 from him !" 
 
 "Money's a troublesome thing," said Mattie, 
 snatching up her bonnet from the sideboard, and 
 putting it on her head with trembling hands ; " if 
 you take your eyes from it for an instant, it's 
 gone." 
 
 " But, ]\ir. Darcy " 
 
 " Oh ! bother Mr. Darcy," was the half -peevish 
 exclamation. " I have been listening to you, and 
 they've robbed the shop again. Everything's 
 against me just now ! Mind the place till I come 
 back, please."
 
 296 MATTIE : A STEAY. 
 
 CHAPTEK YII. 
 
 THE PLAN FRUSTRATED. 
 
 Yes, the house in Great Suffolk Street had been 
 again visited by ^^ the dangerous classes." It was 
 a house well watched, or a house that was doomed 
 to be unfortunate in its latter days. A house left 
 in charge of a girl of seventeen, therefore likely 
 to hav^e its weak points, and considered worth 
 watching in the dark hours. This was Mattie's 
 idea upon awakening to the conviction of a second 
 successful attempt upon Mr. Wesden's property ; 
 but Mattie was wrong. 
 
 The robbery was the result of accident and 
 neglect, as most robberies are in this world. A 
 youth had entered the shop to make a small pur- 
 chase, and hammered honestly on the counter with 
 the edge of his penny piece — a youth of no prin-
 
 UNDER SUSPICION. 297 
 
 ciple, certainly, brought up ragged, dirty, ignorant, 
 and saucy — a Borough boy. Fate and the devil 
 contrived that Mattie should be absorbed in the 
 love-story of Harriet Wesden at the time, and the 
 boy finding no attention paid to his summons, 
 looked over the shop blind, saw the rapt position 
 of the parlour occupants, dropped upon his hands 
 and knees like a lad brought up to the '^profession," 
 and slid insidiously towards the till, which he found 
 locked and keyless. Fortune being against his 
 possession of any current coin of the realm, the 
 vouno; vaojabond turned his attention to stock, and 
 in less time than it takes to sum up his defalca- 
 tions, had appropriated and made off ^vith a very 
 large parcel underneath the counter — a parcel that 
 Wiggins, wholesale stationers of Cannon Street, 
 had just forwarded by London Parcels' Delivery 
 Company to order of John AYesden, Esq., and 
 which parcel had been found almost too large to 
 decamp with. 
 
 Mattie thought no more of Harriet Wesden's 
 troubles ; here was a second instance of her care- 
 lessness — of her incapacity for business. What
 
 298 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 would Mr. Wesden think now ; he who had been 
 so cold and strange to her after the last robbery ? 
 And what did she deserve ? — she who had had a 
 trust committed to her and abused it. 
 
 Mattie did not give way to any ebullition of 
 tears ; she was a girl with considerable self-com- 
 mand, and only betrayed her agitation by her 
 whiter face. She did all that lay in her power 
 to remedy the great error, leaving Harriet Wes- 
 den in charge of the shop whilst she ran down 
 Great Suffolk Street and towards the Borough, 
 hoping to overtake the robber. Straight to Kent 
 Street went Mattie ; thieves would be sure to make 
 for Kent Street — all the years of her honest life 
 faded away like a dream, and she ran at once to the 
 house of a receiver of stolen goods, a house that 
 she had known herself in the old guilty past. 
 
 Her hand was on the latch of the door, when a 
 pohceman touched her on the arm, 
 
 " Do you Wiint anything here ?" 
 
 " I've been robbed of a large parcel — I thought 
 they must have brought it here." 
 
 "Why here?"
 
 UNDER SUSPICION. 299 
 
 "This is Simes's — this used to be Simes's — 
 surely." 
 
 " Yes, and it's Simes's still ; but nobody's been 
 herewith a parcel. You haven't been and left nobody 
 in Mr. Wesden's shop ?" was his inelegant query. 
 
 Mattie did not remark that the policeman knew 
 her then ; she was too excited by her loss. 
 
 " Mr. Wesden's daughter's there." 
 
 " Then you had better come round to the police- 
 station, and state your loss, ]\iiss." 
 
 Mattie thought so too ; she went to the police- 
 station, mentioned the facts of the robbery, the na- 
 ture of the parcel stolen, &c., and then returned very 
 grave and disconsolate to Great Suffolk Street, to 
 find three customers waiting to be served, Harriet 
 turning over drawer after drawer in search of the 
 goods required, and one woman waiting for change, 
 which Harriet, having mislaid her own purse, and 
 found the till locked, was unable to give her. 
 
 Mattie tui^ned to business again, attended to the 
 customers, and then re-entered the parlour. 
 
 " It cannot be helped, and I must make the best 
 of it," said Mattie ; " I don't mind the loss it is to
 
 300 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 me, who'll pay for it out of my own earnings, as I 
 do the vexation it will be to your father." 
 
 " Leave it to me, Mattie," said Harriet ; " when 
 I go home this evening, I will tell him exactly how 
 it occurred, and how it was not your fault but 
 mine. And, Mattie, I intend to pay for it myself, 
 and not have your hard earnings entrenched upon." 
 
 " Yonre not in trust here," said Mattie, some- 
 what shortly ; " if I don't pay for it, I shall be un- 
 happy all my life." 
 
 " Then it's over and done with, and T wouldn't 
 fret about it," said Harriet, suddenly finding her- 
 self in the novel position of comforter. 
 
 " I never fret — and I said that I would make 
 the best of it," replied Mattie, placing her chair 
 at the parlour door, half within the room and half 
 in the shop ; " and if I'm ever tricked again w^hilst 
 I remain here, it's very odd to me." 
 
 Harriet Wesden, not much impressed by so 
 matter-a-fact event as a robbery, was anxious to 
 return to the subject which more closely affected 
 herself; the parcel, after all, was of no great value ; 
 the police were doubtless looking for the thief ; let
 
 UXDER SUSPICION. 301 
 
 the matter be passed over for the present, and the 
 great distress of her unsettled mmd be once more 
 gi'avely dwelt upon ! This was scarcely selfishness 
 — for Harriet Wesden was not a selfish girl — it was 
 rather an intense craving for support in the hard 
 task of shattering another's hopes. 
 
 They had tea together in that little back parlour, 
 and Harriet found it difficult work to keep Mattie's 
 thoughts directed to the subject upon which ad- 
 vice had been given before the theft. 
 
 " You will not think of me," she said at last, re- 
 proachfully ; " and what does it matter about that 
 rubbishing parcel ?" 
 
 "What can I do for you, more?" asked Mattie, 
 wearily. Her head ached very much with all the 
 excitement of that day, and she was inwardly pray- 
 ing for the time to pass, and the boy to put the 
 shutters up. The robbery was not of great import- 
 ance, and she vrondered why it troubled her so 
 much, and rendered her anxiety for others, just for 
 a while, of secondary interest. Did she see loom- 
 ing before her the shadow^ of her coming trial ; 
 was there foreknowledge of all in store for her.
 
 302 3IATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 stealing in upon her that dark December's night ? 
 She was superstitious enough to think so afterwards, 
 when the end had come and life had wholly changed 
 with her ! 
 
 After tea, Mattie's impression became less vivid, 
 for Harriet's nervousness was on the increase. The 
 stern business of life gave way to the romance — 
 stern enough also at that time — of Harriet Wesden. 
 It was close on seven o'clock, and every minute 
 might bring the well-known form and figure home. 
 
 " I shan't know what to say," said Harriet ; '^ it 
 seems out of place to ask him in here, and coolly 
 begin at once to tell him not to think of me any 
 more, just as he comes home from business, tired 
 and weary, too, poor Sid ! Shall I write to him ? — I'll 
 begin the letter now, and leave it here for you to 
 give him. Oh ! I can't face him — I shall never be 
 able to face him, and tell him how fickle-minded I 
 am !" 
 
 " Write to him if you wish then, Harriet ; perhaps 
 it is best, and will spare you both some pain." 
 
 ^' Yes, yes, I'll write," said Harriet, opening 
 Mattie's desk instantly, and sending its neatly ar-
 
 UNDER SUSPICION. 303 
 
 ranged contents flying right and left ; " it is much 
 the belter way — why make a scene of it ? — I hate 
 scenes ! And I'm not fickle-minded, Mattie," 
 suddenly reverting to her self -accusation of a mo- 
 ment since ; ^' for I had a right to think for myself, 
 and choose for myself — we were not to be engaged 
 till next month; and I did like him once — I do now, 
 somehow ! If he will only think well of me after- 
 wards, and not despise me, poor fellow, and beheve 
 that I had a right to turn away from him, if my 
 heart said that I was not suitable for him at the 
 last. If he — Mattie, where do you keep your pens ?" 
 Mattie remarked that she had turned the box 
 full amongst the letter-paper. Harriet sat herself 
 down to write the letter after mucH preparation 
 and agitation ; flattie looked at her, sitting there, 
 in the full light of the gas above her head, and 
 thought how pretty a child she looked — how unfit 
 to cope with the world's harshness — how lucky for 
 her that she was the only child of parents who had 
 made money for her, and so smoothed one road in 
 life at least. Yes, more a child than a woman even 
 then ; captious, excitable, easily influenced, swayed
 
 304 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 by a passing gust of passion like a leaf , trembling 
 at the present, at the future, always unresolved, 
 and yet always, by her trust and confidence in 
 others, even by her sympathy for others, to be 
 loved. 
 
 Mattie went into the shop, leaving Harriet to 
 compose her epistle ; after a while, and when she 
 was brooding on the parcel again, and wondering if 
 Mrs. Watts were at the bottom of the robbery, 
 Harriet called her. She took her place again on 
 the neutral ground, between parlour and shop, and 
 found Harriet very much discomfited ; her face 
 flushed, her fair hair ruffled about her ears, her 
 blue eyes full of tears. 
 
 '^ I don't know what to say — I can't think of 
 anything that's kind enough, and good enough for 
 him. What would you say, Mattie f 
 
 " And you that have had so much money spent 
 on your education to ask me — still a poor, igno- 
 rant, half -taught girl. Miss Harriet !" 
 
 "I'm too flurried to collect my thoughts — I cant 
 think of the right words," she said ; " I can't tell 
 him of Mr. Darcy before Mr. Darcy has spoken to
 
 UNDER SUSPICION. 305 
 
 me — and I — I don't like to write down that I — I 
 don't love him — never did love him — it looks so 
 spiteful, dear ! Mattie, what would you say ?" 
 
 " I should simply tell him the story which you 
 told me." 
 
 '' He might show the letter to father and mother, 
 who are anxious — oh ! much more anxious than 
 you fancy — to marry me to Sidney." 
 
 ^' They know his value, Harriet." 
 
 " And then it will all come at once to trouble 
 them, instead of breaking it by degrees. Well, it's 
 my fate. I must not keep it from them." 
 
 " No. How^ much have you wTitten ?" 
 
 " ' Dear Sidney ' — and — and the day of the 
 month, of course. Oh I dear — here he is I" 
 
 Away went paper and pens into the desk again, 
 and the desk cleared from the table, and tm'ned 
 topsy-turvy on to a chair. 
 
 " Oh ! the top of the ink-stand's out — look here ! 
 — oh ! what a mess there'll be!" cried Mattie. 
 
 Harriet reversed the desk. 
 
 '' Perhaps it's not all spilt — I'm very sorry to 
 have made such a mess of it, and — and it's only 
 
 VOL. I. X
 
 306 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 Sidney's father, after all. Don't tell him I'm 
 here." 
 
 The old gentleman came into the shop, and 
 nodded towards Mattie standing in the door- 
 way. 
 
 *' Has my boy come home ?" he asked. 
 
 "Not yet, sir." 
 
 The father's countenance assumed a doleful ex- 
 pression on the instant — life without his boy was 
 scarcely worth having. 
 
 " He's very late, then, for I'm late," looking at 
 his watch ; " I hope he hasn't been run over." 
 
 Mattie laughed at the expression of the father's 
 fear. 
 
 " That's not likely, sir." 
 
 " People do get run over at times, especially in 
 the City, and more especially near-sighted people. 
 There's nothing to laugh at." 
 
 And rather offended at the manner in which his 
 gloomy suggestion had been received, Mr. Hinch- 
 ford senior passed through the side door into the 
 passage. Mattie found Harriet at the desk again, 
 picking out several sheets of paper saturated with
 
 UNDER SUSPICION. 307 
 
 ink, and arranging them of a row on the fender. 
 
 " More ink, dear — more ink ! " she cried, impetu- 
 ously ; " I've thought of what to say. Don't keep 
 me long without the ink." 
 
 Mattie replenished her ink-stand, and Harriet 
 dashed into the subject with vigour, slackened 
 after the first few lines, then came to a dead stop, 
 and stared intently at the paper. Mattie went into 
 the shop for fear of disturbing Harriet's train of 
 ideas, remained there an hour attending to cus- 
 tomers, and arranging stock, finally w^ent back into 
 the parlour. 
 
 The desk was closed once more ; a heap of torn 
 papers was on the floor. Harriet, with her bonnet 
 and shawl on, and her eyes red with weeping, was 
 pacing up and down the room. 
 
 " Xo letter f asked Mattie. 
 
 "I can't Amte a letter, and tell him what a 
 wretch I am," she said, " and if I face him to- 
 night, I shall drop at his feet. Girl," she cried, 
 passionately, '^ do you think it is so easy to act as 
 I have done, and then avow it?" 
 
 it," was 
 X 2
 
 308 MATTIE : A STEAY. 
 
 Mattie's calm answer ; " I should consider it my 
 duty to tell liim." 
 
 " And I will tell him all. God knows I would 
 not deceive him for the world, Mattie, or leave him 
 in ignorance of the true state of my heart. But I 
 cannot tell him now. I'm afraid I" 
 
 There was real fear in her looks — an intense ex- 
 citement, that even alarmed Mattie. She saw, after 
 all, that it was best to keep the secret back for that 
 night. 
 
 " Then I would go home, Harriet, at once. To- 
 morrow, when you are calmer, you may be able to 
 write the letter." 
 
 " Yes, yes — ^to-morrow I will write it. I shall 
 have all day before me, and can tear up as many 
 sheets as I like. I will write it to-morrow, and 
 post it from Camberwell. Mattie, as I'm a living 
 woman, and as I pray to be free from this suspense 
 and torture, I will write to him to-morrow !" 
 
 '^ One day is not very important," said Mattie, 
 in reply, little dreaming of the difference that day 
 would make. "Delays are dangerous — delays are 
 dangerous " — she had written twenty times in her
 
 UNDER SUSPICION. 309 
 
 copy-book, and taken not to heart ; and there was 
 danger on its way to those who had put off the 
 truth, and to him for whom they feared it. 
 
 " Delays are dancrerous !" Take it to heart, O 
 reader, and remember it in the hour when you 
 shrink from the truth, as from a hot iron that may 
 sear you. Wise old admonitions of om' copy-book 
 times — we might do worse very often than laugh 
 at ye !
 
 310 MATTIE : A STKAY. 
 
 f 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 A SUDDEN JOURNEY. 
 
 Harriet Wesden liurried away after her pro- 
 mise ; Mattie, at the last moment, recalling to her 
 notice the fact of the robbery, and reminding her 
 of the way in which she ought to break the news 
 to her father. Then the excited girl darted 
 away to Camberwell, and it was like the stillness 
 of the grave in the back parlour after her departure. 
 Mattie went in for an instant to set the place to 
 rights, and then returned to her watch in the shop, 
 and to her many thoughts, born of that day's inci- 
 dents. She was quite prepared for a visit from 
 Mr. Wesden at a late hour, but ]\Ir. Wesden's 
 movements under excitement were not to be calcu- 
 lated upon ; and we may say here that the know- 
 ledge of his loss did not bring him post-haste to
 
 UNDEK SUSPICION. 311 
 
 Great Suffolk Street. Matttie was thinking of 
 her loss, when the passage door opened, and the 
 white head of Mr. Hinchford peered round and 
 looked up at the clock, over the top shelf where 
 the back stock was kept. The movement reminded 
 Mattie of the time^ and she glanced at the clock 
 herself — half-past nine. 
 
 " I thought the clock had stopped up-stairs," he 
 said, by way of explanation for his appearance. 
 
 " I had no idea it was so late," said Mattie. 
 
 ^' I had no idea it was so early," responded Mr. 
 Hinchford ; adding, after a pause, ^' though I can't 
 think where the boy has got to ; he said he would 
 be home early, as he had some accounts to look 
 through." 
 
 "• It's not very late, sir, and if he has gone to 
 Camberwell, not knowing Miss Harriet was here 
 to-night " 
 
 *'He always comes home first — I never knew 
 him go anywhere without coming home first to tell 
 me. But," with another look at the clock, " it's 
 not so very late, as you say, Mattie." 
 
 " He will be here in a minute."
 
 312 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 " I hope so," said ^Ir. Hinclif ord, going to the 
 shop door, and looking down the street, " for it's 
 comino^ on to rain, and he has no umbrella. The 
 boy will catch his death of cold." 
 
 After standing at the door for two or three 
 minutes, the old gentleman turned to go up -stairs 
 again. 
 
 " It'll be a thorough wet night — I'll tell Ann to 
 keep plenty of water in the boiler — nothing like 
 your feet in hot water to stave off a cold." 
 
 He retired. Half an hour afterwards he reap- 
 peared in the shop, excitable and fidgety. 
 
 " I can't make it out," he said, after another in- 
 spection of the clock ; " there's something wrong." 
 
 " Perhaps he has gone to the play, sir." 
 
 " Pooh ! he hates plays," was the contemptuous 
 comment to this ; " he wouldn't waste his time in 
 a playhouse. No, Mattie there's something 
 wrong." 
 
 " I don't think so," said ]\Iattie, cheerfully. " I 
 would not worry about his absence just yet, sir." 
 
 " I'll give him another houi', and then I'll go 
 down to the office and ask after him."
 
 UNDER SUSPICION. 313 
 
 ^^ Or find him there, sn\" 
 
 " No, they're not busy, I think. He can't be 
 there. Mattie," he said suddenly. "Have you 
 noticed a difference in him lately ?" 
 
 " I — I fancy he seems, perhaps, a little gi'aver ; 
 but then he's growing older and more manly every 
 day." 
 
 '^ Ah ! he grows a fine fellow — there isn't such 
 another boy in the world — perhaps it's all a fancy 
 of mine, after all." 
 
 Mattie knew that it was no fancy ; that even 
 Sidney's care and histrionic efforts could not disguise 
 his trouble entirely from the father. But she played 
 the part of consoler to ^Ii\ Hinchford as well as 
 she was able, and the old gentleman, less dis- 
 turbed in mind, returned to his room for the 
 second time. 
 
 But time stole on, and Mattie herself found a 
 new anxiety added to those which had heretofore 
 disturbed her. The wet night set in as Mr. Hinch- 
 ford had prophesied ; the boy came and put up the 
 shutters ; the clock ticked on towards eleven ; all 
 but the public-houses were closed in Great
 
 314 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 Suffolk Street, and there were few loiterers about. 
 
 Ann Packet brought in the supj)er, and was 
 informed of the day's two features of interest — 
 the robbery, and the absence of Mr. Sidney. Ann 
 Packet, of slow ideas herself, and slower still in 
 having other ideas instilled into her, thought that 
 the missing parcel was connected with the missing 
 lodger, and so conglomerated matters irremediably. 
 
 " You may depend upon it, Mattie, he'll bring 
 the parcel back — it's one of his games — he was a 
 rare boy for tricks when I knew him fust." 
 
 " Ann, you've been asleep," said Mattie, sharply. 
 
 "I couldn't help it," answered Ann, submis- 
 sively ; " it was very lonely down there, with no 
 company but the beadles — and times ain't as they 
 used to was, when you could read to me, and Avas 
 more often down there." 
 
 " Ah ! times are altering," sighed Mattie. 
 
 " And Mr. Wesden don't like me here till after 
 the shop's shut — ^because he can't trust me, or I 
 talk too much, I s'pose," she said ; " but now, dear, 
 sit down and tell me all about everything, to keep 
 my sperits up."
 
 UNDER SUSPICION. 315 
 
 Ann Packet and Mattie always supped together 
 after the shop was closed — Ann Packet lived for 
 supper time now, looked forward all the day to a 
 "nice bit of talk" with the girl who had won 
 upon those affections which three-fourths of her 
 life had rusted from disuse. 
 
 " It's uncommon funny that I never had any- 
 body to care about afore I knowed you, Mattie," 
 she said regularly, once or twice a-week; "no 
 father, mother, sisters, anybody, till you turned up 
 like the ace in spekkilation. And now, let me hear 
 you talk, my dear — I don't fancy that your tongue 
 runs on quite so fast as it did." 
 
 Ann Packet curled herself in her chair, hazarded 
 one little complaint about her ankles, which were 
 setting in badly again with the Christmas season, 
 and then prepared to make herself comfortable, 
 when once more Mr. Hinchford appeared, with his 
 hat, stick, and great cloak this time. 
 
 " Mattie, I can't stand it any longer — I'm off to 
 the office in the City." 
 
 Mattie did not like the look of his excited face. 
 
 " I'd w^ait a Httle while longer, sir."
 
 316 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 "No — something has happened to the boy." 
 
 " Shall I go with you, sir ?" 
 
 " God bless the girl !— what for f ' 
 
 "For company's sake — it's late for you to be 
 alone, sir." 
 
 " Don't you think I can take care of myself ? — 
 am I so old, feeble, and drivelling as that? Are 
 they right at the office, after all?" he added in 
 a lower tone. 
 
 " I shouldn't like to be left here all alone," mur- 
 mured Ann Packet; "particularly after there's 
 been robberies, and " 
 
 There was the rattle of cab-wheels in the street, 
 coming nearer and nearer towards the house. 
 
 " Hark !" said Mattie and Mr. Hinchford in one 
 breath. 
 
 The rattling ceased before the door, the cab 
 stopped, Mr. Hinchford pointed to the door, and 
 gasped, and gesticulated. 
 
 " Open, — open the door ! — he has met with an 
 accident !" 
 
 " No, no, he has only taken a cab to get here 
 earlier, and escape the wet," said Mattie, open-
 
 UXDER SUSPICION. 317 
 
 ing the door with a beating heart, nevertheless. 
 
 Sidney Hinchford, safe and sound, was abeady 
 out of the cab and close to the door. ^Mattie met 
 him with a bright smile of welcome, to which 
 his sombre face did not respond. He came into 
 the shop, stern and silent, and then looked towards 
 his father, 
 
 " I thought you might have gone to bed, father," 
 he said. 
 
 " Bed !" ejaculated Mr. Hinchford, in disgust ; 
 " what has — what has ^" 
 
 " Come upstairs, I wish to speak to you." 
 
 Father and son went upstairs to their room, 
 leaving Mattie at the open door. The cab still 
 remained drawn up there; the cabman stood by the 
 horse's head, stolid as a judge in his manifold 
 capes. 
 
 " Are you waiting for anything ?" asked Mattie. 
 
 " For the gemman, to be sure." 
 
 " Going back again ?" 
 
 " He says so — I spose it's all right," he added 
 dubiously ; " you've no back door which he can 
 slip out of r
 
 318 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 " Slip out of !" cried the disgusted Mattie, 
 slamming the front door in his face for his impu- 
 dent assertion. 
 
 Meanwhile Sidney Hinchford was facing his 
 father in the drawing-room. 
 
 "Sit down and take the news coolly, sir," he said ; 
 " there's nothing gained by putting yourself in a 
 flurry." 
 
 " N — no, no, my boy, n — no." 
 
 " I have no time to spare, and I wish to leave 
 you all right before I go." 
 
 " Go !" 
 
 '^ I am going for a day or two, very likely for a 
 week, on a special mission for my employers — that 
 is all that I can tell you without breaking the con- 
 fidence placed in me — I must go at once," 
 
 " Bless my soul ! what — what can I possibly 
 do without you. Can't I go with you? Can't 
 I " 
 
 " You can do nothing but wait patiently for my 
 return, believing that I am safe, and taking care 
 of myself. Why, what are a few days ?" 
 
 "Well, not much after all," said the father.
 
 UNDER SUSPICION. 319 
 
 wiping liis forehead with his silk-handkerchief," and 
 there's no danger, of course f 
 
 "Not any." 
 
 " And you are only going " 
 
 "A journey of a few days. Try and cahn your- 
 self whilst I pack a few things in my portmanteau. 
 There, that's well !" 
 
 Sidney passed into the other room, leaving his 
 father still struggling with the effects of his as- 
 tonishment. The portmanteau must have been 
 filled without any regard for neatness, for Sidney 
 in a few minutes returned with it in his hands. 
 
 " Why, you should be proud of this journey of 
 mine," he said with a forced lightness that could 
 only have deceived his father ; " think what it is to 
 be chosen out of the whole office to undertake this 
 business." 
 
 " It's a good sign. Yes, I see that now." 
 
 " And I shall be back sooner than you expect, 
 perhaps. Why, you and I must not part like two 
 silly girls, to whom the journey of a few miles is the 
 event of a life. Now, good-bye, sir — God keep 
 you strong and well till I come back again !"
 
 320 MATTIE : A STKAY. 
 
 "And you, my lad, and you, too." 
 
 " Amen. God grant it." 
 
 There was a strange earnestness in the son's 
 voice, but the father was still too much excited to 
 take heed. 
 
 "And now good-bye again," shaking his father's 
 hands ; " you'll stay here, sir, you'll not come down 
 any more to-night." 
 
 " Yes, I will." 
 
 "You must try and keep calm; I will beg you as 
 a favour to remain here, father." 
 
 *' Well, well, if you wish it — but I'm not a 
 child." 
 
 Sidney released his father's hands, caught up his 
 portmanteau, and marched down stairs. Mattie, 
 pale with suppressed excitement, met him in the 
 shop. He put down his burden, caught her by 
 the wrist, and drew her into the parlour. Seeing 
 Ann Packet there, he bade her go down stairs 
 somewhat abruptly, released his grip of Mattie, and 
 waited for Ann's withdrawal, beating his foot im- 
 patiently upon the carpet. 
 
 Mattie looked nervously towards him, and thought
 
 UNDER SUSPICION. 321 
 
 that she had never seen him look more stern and 
 hard. His face was deathly white, and his eyes 
 burned like coals behind the glasses that he wore. 
 
 " Mattie," he said, " you and I, my father and 
 you, are old friends." 
 " Yes, sir." 
 
 "I will ask a favour of you before I go. Take care 
 of him I Ask him to come down here to smoke his 
 pipe with you, and keep him as light-hearted as 
 you can till I return." 
 
 "Who?— I, sir?" 
 
 " You have the way with you ; you are quick to 
 observe, and it will not take much pains to keep him 
 pleased, I think. When he begins to wonder why 
 I haven't returned, break to him by degi-ees that I 
 have deceived him, fearing the shock too sudden 
 for his strength." 
 
 " Oh ! sir, how can you leave all this to me ?" 
 
 " I have faith in no one else, Mattie, to do me 
 this service. You are always cool, and will know 
 the best way to proceed. Cheer up the old gentle- 
 man all you can, too ; — you were a quaint girl once 
 — don't let him miss me if you can help it." 
 
 VOL. 1. Y
 
 322 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 " And you'll be gone- 
 
 " Six weeks or two months." 
 
 '' It's not a very happy journey, sir." 
 
 " How do you know that ?" was the quick re- 
 joinder. 
 
 " You're not looking happy — there's trouble in 
 your face, Mr. Sidney." 
 
 *^ Well, there is room for it, and I am going, as I 
 fear, to face trouble, and bring back with me dis- 
 appointment. We can't have it all our own way 
 in this world, jMattie." 
 
 '' No, sir, that's not likely." 
 
 '^And if there be more troubles than one 
 ahead, why we must fight against them till we beat 
 them back, or they — crush us under foot. Good- 
 bye." 
 
 He shook hands with her long and heartily, 
 adding, " You will remember yom' trust — ^}^ou will 
 break the news to him like a daughter ?" 
 
 " I'll do my best, sir." 
 
 *' He knows that I cannot send him any lettors." 
 
 " And, and — letters for youf 
 
 She thouo;ht of the letter which Harriet Wesden,
 
 UNDER SUSPICIOX. 323 
 
 in her sleepless bed, migkt be pondering upon then. 
 Of the new trouble which he seemed to guess not; 
 for immediately afterwards he said — 
 
 " Keep the letters till I come back — and give my 
 love to Harriet ; tell her I shall think of her every 
 hour of the day and night. I wrote to her the last 
 thing this evening. Now, good-bye, old girl, and 
 wish me luck." 
 
 "The best of luck, Mr. Sidney — with all my 
 heart!" 
 
 " Luck in the distance — luck when I come back 
 again, and see it shining in my Harriet's eyes. 
 Ah I it wont doT he added, with a stamp of his foot. 
 
 " I'll pray for it sir," cried Mattie ; " we can't 
 tell what may happen for the best, or what is for 
 the best, however it may trouble us at first." 
 
 " Spoken like the parson at the corner shop," he 
 said, a little irreverently. " Bravo, j\Iattie — honest 
 believer !" 
 
 He passed from the shop into his cab, glancing 
 at the upstairs windows, and waving his hand for 
 a moment towards his father, waiting anxiously 
 there to see the last of him.
 
 324 MATTIE : A STRAY. 
 
 The cab rattled away the moment afterwards, 
 and Sidney Hinchford was borne on his unknoAvn 
 
 journey. 
 
 ****** 
 
 On the evening of the next day, a letter, in 
 Harriet Wesden's hand-writing, was received. 
 The postman and Mr. Hinchford, senior, came into 
 tlie shop together. 
 
 "Sidney Hinchford, Esq.," said the postman. 
 
 " Thank yon — I'll post it to him when he sends 
 me his address," said Mr. Hinchford. " By Jove I" 
 looking at the superscription, " the ladies miss him 
 already." 
 
 Harriet Wesden had kept her promise, and found 
 courage to write her story out. 
 
 END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 LONDON : PRINTED BY MACDONALD AND TUGWELL, BLENHEIM HOUSE.
 
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