CHAPTER XXVIII
A CHECK
So many things now began to open upon me, to do and to think of, that Iscarcely knew which to begin with. I used to be told how much wiser itwas not to interfere with any thing--to let by-gones be by-gones, andconsider my own self only. But this advice never came home to my case,and it always seemed an unworthy thing even to be listening to it. Andnow I saw reason to be glad for thanking people who advised me, andletting them go on to advise themselves. For if I had listened to MajorHockin, or even Uncle Sam for that part, where must I have beennow? Why, simply knowing no more than as a child I knew, and feelingmiserable about it. Whereas I had now at least something to go upon,and enough for a long time to occupy my mind. The difficulty was to knowwhat to do first, and what to resolve to leave undone, or at least toput off for the present. One of my special desires had been to discoverthat man, that Mr. Goad, who had frightened me so about two years back,and was said to be lost in the snow-drifts. But nobody like him had everbeen found, to the sorrow of the neighborhood; and Sylvester himself hadbeen disappointed, not even to know what to do with his clothes.
His card, however, before he went off, had been left to the care ofUncle Sam for security of the 15,000 dollars; and on it was printed,with a glazing and much flourish, "Vypan, Goad, and Terryer: PrivateInquiry Office, Little England Polygon, W.C." Uncle Sam, with a gruntand a rise of his foot, had sent this low card flying to the fire, afterI had kissed him so for all his truth and loveliness; but I had caughtit and made him give it to me, as was only natural. And having this now,I had been quite prepared to go and present it at its mean address, andask what they wanted me for in America, and what they would like to dowith me now, taking care to have either the Major close at hand, or elsea policeman well recommended.
But now I determined to wait a little while (if Betsy Bowen's opinionshould be at all the same as mine was), and to ask Mr. Shovelin whathe thought about it, before doing any thing that might arouse a set ofideas quite opposite to mine, and so cause trouble afterward. And beingunable to think any better for the time than to wait and be talked to,I got Major Hockin to take me back again to the right number in EuropeanSquare.
Here I found Mrs. Strouss (born Betsy Bowen) ready and eager to hear agreat deal more than I myself had heard that day. On the other hand, Ihad many questions, arising from things said to me, to which I requiredclear answers; and it never would do for her to suppose that becauseshe had known me come into this world, she must govern the whole of mycourse therein. But it cost many words and a great deal of demeanorto teach her that, good and faithful as she was, I could not be alwaysunder her. Yet I promised to take her advice whenever it agreed with myown opinions.
This pleased her, and she promised to offer it always, knowing how wellit would be received, and she told all her lodgers that they might ringand ring, for she did not mean to answer any of their bells; but if theywanted any thing, they must go and fetch it. Being Germans, who are themost docile of men in England, whatever they may be at home, they madeno complaint, but retired to their pipes in a pleasant condition ofsurprise at London habits.
Mrs. Strouss, being from her earliest years of a thrifty and reputableturn of mind, had managed, in a large yet honest way, to put by manythings which must prove useful in the long-run, if kept long enough.And I did hear--most careful as I am to pay no attention to pettyrumors--that the first thing that moved the heart of Herr Strouss, andcalled forth his finest feelings, was a winding-up chair, which came outto make legs, with a pocket for tobacco, and a flat place for a glass.
This was certainly a paltry thought; and to think of such low thingsgrieved me. And now, when I looked at Mr. Strouss himself, having heardof none of these things yet, I felt that my nurse might not have doneher best, yet might have done worse, when she married him. For he seemedto have taken a liking toward me, and an interest in my affairs, whichredounded to his credit, if he would not be too inquisitive. And nowI gladly allowed him to be present, and to rest in the chair which hadcaptivated him, although last night I could scarcely have borne to haveheard in his presence what I had to hear. To-night there was nothingdistressful to be said, compared, at least, with last night's tale;whereas there were several questions to be put, in some of which (whilescouting altogether Uncle Sam's low estimate) two females might, withadvantage perhaps, obtain an opinion from the stronger sex.
And now, as soon as I had told my two friends as well as I could whathad happened at the bank (with which they were pleased, as I had been),those questions arose, and were, I believe, chiefly to the followingpurport--setting aside the main puzzle of all.
Why did my father say, on that dreadful morning, that if his father wasdead, he himself had killed or murdered him? Betsy believed, when shecame to think, that he had even used the worse word of these two.
How could the fatal shot have been discharged from his pistol--asclearly it had been--a pistol, moreover, which, by his own account, asBetsy now remembered, he had left in his quarters near Chichester?
What was that horrible disease which had carried off all my poor littlebrothers and sisters, and frightened kind neighbors and servants away?Betsy said it was called "Differeria," as differing so much from allother complaints. I had never yet heard of this, but discovered, withoutasking further than of Mr. Strouss, that she meant that urgent mandatefor a levy of small angels which is called on earth "diphtheria."
Who had directed those private inquirers, Vypan, Goad, and Terryer, tosend to the far West a member of their firm to get legal proof of mydear father's death, and to bring me back, if possible? The presentLord Castlewood never would have done so, according to what Mr. Shovelinsaid; it was far more likely that (but for weak health) he would havecome forth himself to seek me, upon any probable tidings. At once areligious and chivalrous man, he would never employ mean agency. Andwhile thinking of that, another thought occurred--What had induced thatlow man Goad to give Uncle Sam a date wrong altogether for the crimewhich began all our misery? He had put it at ten, now twelve, yearsback, and dated it in November, whereas it had happened in Septembermonth, six years and two months before the date he gave. This questionwas out of all answer to me, and also to Mrs. Strouss herself; but HerrStrouss, being of a legal turn, believed that the law was to blamefor it. He thought that proceedings might be bound to begin, under theExtradition Act, within ten years of the date of the crime; or theremight be some other stipulation compelling Mr. Goad to add one to allhis falsehoods; and not knowing any thing about it, both of us thoughtit very likely.
Again, what could have been that last pledge which passed between myfather and mother, when they said "good-by" to one another, and perhapsknew that it was forever, so far as this bodily world is concerned? Wasit any thing about a poor little sleeping and whimpering creature likemyself, who could not yet make any difference to any living being exceptthe mother? Or was it concerning far more important things, justice,clear honor, good-will, and duty, such as in the crush of time comeupward with high natures? And if so, was it not a promise from mymother, knowing every thing, to say nothing, even at the quiveringmoment of lying beneath the point of death?
This was a new idea for Betsy, who had concluded from the very firstthat the pledge must be on my father's part--to wit, that he had vowednot to surrender, or hurt himself in any way, for the sake of his dearwife. And to my suggestion she could only say that she never had seenit in that light; but the landings were so narrow and the walls so softthat, with all her duty staring in her face, neither she, nor the bestservant ever in an apron, could be held responsible to repeat their verywords. And her husband said that this was good--very good--so good asever could be; and what was to show now from the mouth of any one, afterfifteen, sixteen, eighteen, the years?
After this I had no other word to say, being still too young tocontradict people duly married and of one accord. No other word, I mean,upon that point; though still I had to ask, upon matters more immediate,what was the next thing for me, perhaps, to d
o. And first of all it wassettled among us that for me to present myself at the head-quarters ofVypau, Goad, and Terryer would be a very clumsy and stupid proceeding,and perhaps even dangerous. Of course they would not reveal to me theauthor of those kind inquiries about myself, which perhaps had cost thefirm a very valuable life, the life of Mr. Goad himself. And while Ishould learn less than nothing from them, they would most easily extractfrom me, or at any rate find out afterward, where I was living, andwhat I was doing, and how I could most quietly be met and baffled, andperhaps even made away with, so as to save all further trouble.
Neither was that the only point upon which I resolved to do nothing.Herr Strouss was a very simple-minded man, yet full of true sagacity,and he warmly advised, in his very worst English, that none but my fewtrusty friends should be told of my visit to this country.
"Why for make to know your enemies?" he asked, with one finger on hisforehead, which was his mode of indicating caution. "Enemies find outvere soon, too soon, soon enough. Begin to plot--no, no, young ladybegin first. Vilhelmina, your man say the right. Is it good, or is itbad?"
It appeared to us both to be good, so far as might be judged for thepresent; and therefore I made up my mind to abstain from calling even onmy father's agent, unless Mr. Shovelin should think it needful. In thatand other matters I would act by his advice; and so with better spiritsthan I long had owned, at finding so much kindness, and with good hopesof the morrow, I went to the snug little bedroom which my good nurse hadprovided.
Alas! What was my little grief on the morrow, compared to the deep andabiding loss of many by a good man's death? When I went to the door atwhich I had been told to knock, it was long before I got an answer. Andeven when somebody came at last, so far from being my guardian, it wasonly a poor old clerk, who said, "Hush, miss!" and then prayed that thewill of the Lord might be done. "Couldn't you see the half-shuttersup?" he continued, rather roughly. "'Tis a bad job for many a poor manto-day. And it seems no more than yesterday I was carrying him about!"
"Do you mean Mr. Shovelin?" I asked. "Is he poorly? Has any thinghappened? I can wait, or come again."
"The Lord has taken him to the mansions of the just, from his privateaddress at Sydenham Hill. A burning and a shining light! May we likehim be found watching in that day, with our lamps trimmed and our loinsgirded!"
For the moment I was too surprised to speak, and the kind old man led meinto the passage, seeing how pale and faint I was. He belonged, likehis master, and a great part of their business, to a simple religiouspersuasion, or faith, which now is very seldom heard of.
"It was just in this way," he said, as soon as tears had enabled me tospeak--for even at the first sight I had felt affection toward my newguardian. "Our master is a very punctual man, for five-and-thirty yearsnever late--never late once till this morning. Excuse me, miss, I oughtto be ashamed. The Lord knoweth what is best for us. Well, you threw himout a good bit yesterday, and there was other troubles. And he had towork late last night, I hear; for through his work he would go, be itanyhow--diligent in business, husbanding the time--and when he came downto breakfast this morning, he prayed with his household as usual, butthey noticed his voice rather weak and queer; and the mistress lookedat him when he got up from his knees; but he drank his cup of tea andhe ate his bit of toast, which was all he ever took for breakfast. Butpresently when his cob came up to the door--for he always rode in tobusiness, miss, no matter what the weather was--he went to kiss his wifeand his daughters all round, according to their ages; and he got throughthem all, when away he fell down, with the riding-whip in one hand, andexpired on a piece of Indian matting."
"How terrible!" I exclaimed, with a sob. And the poor old man, in spiteof all his piety, was sobbing.
"No, miss; not a bit of terror about it, to a man prepared as he was.He had had some warning just a year ago; and the doctors all told him hemust leave off work. He could no more do without his proper work than hecould without air or victuals. What this old established concern willdo without him, our Divine Master only knows. And a pinch coming on inThreadneedle Street, I hear--but I scarcely know what I am saying, miss;I was thinking of the camel and the needle."
"I will not repeat what you have not meant to tell," I answered, seeinghis confusion, and the clumsy turn he had made of it. "Only tell me whatdear Mr. Shovelin died of."
"Heart-disease, miss. You might know in a moment. Nothing kills likethat. His poor father died of it, thirty years agone. And the betterpeople are, the more they get it."