CHAPTER THREE.
HOPES AND FEARS--MR. SHIRLEY RECEIVES A VISIT AND A WILD PROPOSAL.
When Edward Sinton left his chamber, an hour after the conversationrelated in the last chapter, his brow was unruffled and his step light.He had made up his mind that, come what might, he would not resist thewishes of his only near relative and his best friend.
There was a day in the period of early boyhood that remained as fresh onthe memory of young Sinton as if it had been yesterday--the day on whichhis mother died. The desolation of his early home on that day was likethe rising of a dark thunder-cloud on a bright sky. His young heart wascrushed, his mind stunned, and the first ray of light that broke uponhim--the first gush of relief--was when his uncle arrived and took himon his knee, and, seated beside the bed where that cold, still form lay,wept upon the child's neck as if his heart would break. Mr Shirleyburied the sister whom he had been too late to see alive. Then he andhis little nephew left the quiet country village and went to dwell inthe great city of London. From that time forward Mr Shirley was afather to Ned, who loved him more than any one else on earth, andthrough his influence he was early led to love and reverence hisheavenly Father and his blessed Redeemer.
The subject of going abroad was the first in regard to which Ned and hisuncle had seriously disagreed, and the effect on the feelings of bothwas very strong.
Ned's mind wandered as he put on his hat, and buttoned his great-coat upto the chin, and drew on his gloves slowly. He was not vain of hispersonal appearance; neither was he reckless of it. He always struckyou as being a particularly well-dressed man, and he had naturally adashing look about him. Poor fellow! he felt anything but dashing orreckless as he hurried through the crowded streets in the direction ofthe city that day.
Moxton's door was a green one, with a brass knocker and a brass plate,both of which ornaments, owing to verdigris, were anything butornamental. The plate was almost useless, being nearly illegible, butthe knocker was still fit for duty. The street was narrow--as Nedobserved with a feeling of deep depression--and the house to which thegreen door belonged, besides being dirty, retreated a little, as if itwere ashamed of itself.
On the knocker being applied, the green door was opened by adisagreeable-looking old woman, who answered to the question, "Is MrMoxton in?" with a short "Yes," and, without farther remark, ushered ourhero into a very dingy and particularly small office, which, owing tothe insufficient quantity of daylight that struggled through the dirtylittle windows, required to be lighted with gas. Ned felt, so to speak,like a thermometer which was falling rapidly.
"Can I see Mr Moxton?" he inquired of a small dishevelled clerk, whosat on a tall stool behind a high desk, engaged in writing his name inevery imaginable form on a sheet of note paper.
The dishevelled clerk pointed to a door which opened into an innerapartment, and resumed his occupation.
Ned tapped at the door indicated.
"Come in," cried a stern voice.
Ned, (as a thermometer), fell considerably lower. On entering, hebeheld a tall, gaunt man, with a sour cast of countenance, standing withhis back to the fire.
Ned advanced with a cheerful expression of face. Thermometricallyspeaking, he fell to the freezing-point.
"You are young Sinton, I suppose. You've come later than I expected."
Ned apologised, and explained that he had had some difficulty in findingthe house.
"Umph! Your uncle tells me that you're a sharp fellow, and write a goodhand. Have you ever been in an office before?"
"No, sir. Up till now I have been at college. My uncle is ratherpartial, I fear, and may have spoken too highly of me. I think,however, that my hand is not a bad one. At least it is legible."
"At least!" said Mr Moxton, with a sarcastic expression that was meantfor smile, perhaps for a grin. "Why, that's the _most_ you could say ofit. No hand is good, sir, if it is not legible, and no hand canpossibly be bad that _is_ legible. Have you studied law?"
"No, sir, I have not."
"Umph! you're too old to begin. Have you been used to sit at the desk?"
"Yes; I have been accustomed to study the greater part of the day."
"Well, you may come here on Monday, and I'll speak to you again, and seewhat you can do. I'm too busy just now. Good-morning."
Ned turned to go, but paused on the threshold, and stood holding thedoor-handle.
"Excuse me, sir," he said, hesitatingly, "may I ask what room I shalloccupy, if--if--I come to work here?"
Mr Moxton looked a little surprised at the question, but pointed to theouter office where the dishevelled clerk sat, and said, "There." Nedfell to twenty below the freezing-point.
"And pray, sir," he continued, "may I ask what are office-hours?"
"From nine a.m. till nine p.m., with an interval for meals," said MrMoxton, sharply; "but we usually continue at work till eleven at night,sometimes later. Good-morning."
Ned fell to zero, and found himself in the street, with an indistinctimpression of having heard the dishevelled clerk chuckling vociferouslyas he passed through the office.
It was a hard struggle, a very hard struggle, but he recalled to mindall that his uncle had ever done for him, and the love he bore him, andmanfully resolved to cast California behind his back for ever, andbecome a lawyer.
Meanwhile Mr Shirley received a visit from a very peculiar personage.He was still seated in his arm-chair pondering his nephew's prospectswhen this personage entered the room, hat in hand--the hat was a roundstraw one--and cried heartily, "Good day, kinsman."
"Ha! Captain Bunting, how are ye? Glad to see you, old fellow,"exclaimed Mr Shirley, rising and seizing the sailor by the hand. "Sitdown, sit down, and let's hear your news. Why, I believe it's sixmonths since I saw you."
"Longer, Shirley, longer than that," replied the captain, seatinghimself in the chair which Ned Sinton had vacated a short time before."I hope your memory is not giving way. I have been half round theworld, and it's a year and six months to-day since I sat here last."
"Is it?" cried Mr Shirley, in surprise. "Now, that is very remarkable.But do you know, captain, I have often thought upon that subject, andwondered why it is that, as we get older, time seems to fly faster, andevents which happened a month ago seem as if they only occurredyesterday. But let me hear all about it. Where have you been, andwhere are you going next?"
"I've been," replied the captain, who was a big, broad man with a roughover-all coat, rough pilot-cloth trousers, rough red whiskers, a shaggyhead of hair, and a rough-skinned face; the only part of him, in fact,which wasn't rough was his heart; that was soft and warm--
"I've been, as I remarked before, half round the world, and I'm goin'next to America. That's a short but comprehensive answer to yourquestion. If you have time and patience, kinsman, I'll open thelog-book of my memory and give you some details of my doings since welast met. But first tell me, how is my young friend, Ned?"
"Oh, he's well--excellently well--besides being tall and strong. Youwould hardly know him, captain. He's full six feet high, I believe, andthe scamp has something like a white wreath of smoke over his upper lipalready! I wish him to become an engineer or a lawyer, but the boy isin love with California just now, and dreams about nothing but wildadventures and gold-dust."
The captain gave a grunt, and a peculiar smile crossed his rugged visageas he gazed earnestly and contemplatively into the fire.
Captain Bunting was a philosopher, and was deeply impressed with thebelief that the smallest possible hint upon any subject whatever wassufficient to enable him to dive into the marrow of it, andprognosticate the probable issue of it, with much greater certainty thanany one else. On the present occasion, however, the grunt abovereferred to was all he said.
It is not necessary to trouble the reader with the lengthened discoursethat the captain delivered to his kinsman. When he concluded, MrShirley pushed his spectacles up on his bald head, gazed at the fire,and said, "Odd, very odd;
and interesting too--very interesting." Aftera short pause, he pulled his spectacles down on his nose, and lookingover them at the captain, said, "And what part of America are you boundfor now?"
"California," answered the captain, slowly.
Mr Shirley started, as if some prophetic vision had been called up bythe word and the tone, in which it was uttered.
"And that," continued the captain, "brings me to the point. I came herechiefly for the purpose of asking you to let your nephew go with me, asI am in want of a youth to assist me, as a sort of supercargo andJack-of-all-trades. In fact, I like your nephew much, and have long hadmy eye on him. I think him the very man for my purpose. I want acompanion, too, in my business--one who is good at the pen and can turnhis hand to anything. In short, it would be difficult to explain allthe outs and ins of why I want him. But he's a tight, clever fellow, asI know, and I _do_ want him, and if you'll let him go, I promise tobring him safe back again in the course of two years--if we are allspared. From what you've told me, I've no doubt the lad will bedelighted to go. And, believe me, his golden dreams will be all washedout by the time he comes back. Now, what say you!"
For the space of five minutes Mr Shirley gazed at the captain over hisspectacles in amazement, and said nothing. Then he threw himself backon his chair, pushed his spectacles up on his forehead, and gazed at himfrom underneath these assistants to vision. The alteration did not seemto improve matters, for he still continued to gaze in silent surprise.At last his lips moved, and he said, slowly but emphatically--
"Now, that is the most remarkable coincidence I ever heard of."
"How so?" inquired the captain.
"Why, that my nephew should be raving about going to California, andthat you should be raving about getting him to go, and that these thingsshould suddenly come to a climax on the same forenoon. It's absolutelyincredible. If I had read it in a tale, now, or a romance, I would nothave been surprised, for authors are such blockheads, generally, thatthey always make things of this kind fit in with the exactness of adove-tail; but that it should _really_ come to pass in my ownexperience, is quite incomprehensible. And so suddenly, too!"
"As to that," remarked the captain, with a serious, philosophicalexpression of countenance, "most things come to a climax suddenly, andcoincidences invariably happen together; but, after all, it doesn't seemso strange to me, for vessels are setting sail for California everyother day, and--"
"Well," interrupted Mr Shirley, starting up with energy, as if he hadsuddenly formed a great resolve, "I _will_ let the boy go. Perhaps itwill do him good. Besides, I have my own reasons for not caring muchabout his losing a year or two in regard to business. Come with me tothe city, captain, and we'll talk over it as we go along." So saying,Mr Shirley took his kinsman by the arm, and they left the housetogether.