CHAPTER NINETEEN.
DENHAM LONGS FOR FRESH AIR, AND FINDS IT.
There came a day, at last, in which foul air and confinement, andmoney-making, began to tell on the constitution of Mr Denham; todisagree with him, in fact. The rats began to miss him, occasionally,from Redwharf Lane, at the wonted hour, and, no doubt, gossiped a gooddeal on the subject over their evening meals, after the labours anddepredations of the day were ended!
They observed too (supposing them to have been capable of observation),that when Mr Denham did come to his office, he came with a pale faceand an enfeebled step; also with a thick shawl wrapped round his neck.These peculiarities were so far taken advantage of by the rats that theyceased to fly with their wonted precipitancy when his step was heard,and in course of time they did not even dive into their holes as informer days, but sat close to them and waited until the merchant hadpassed, knowing well that he was not capable of running at them. Onelarge young rat in particular--quite a rattling blade in his way--atlength became so bold that he stood his ground one forenoon, anddeliberately stared at Mr Denham as he tottered up to the office-door.
We notice this fact because it occurred on the memorable day when MrDenham admitted to himself that he was breaking down, and that somethingmust be done to set him up again. He thought, as he sat at his desk,leaning his head on his right hand, that sea-air might do him good, andthe idea of a visit to his sister at Deal flitted across his mind; but,remembering that he had for many years treated that sister with frigidindifference, and that he had dismissed her son Guy harshly and withoutsufficient reason from his employment a few years ago, he came to theconclusion that Deal was not a suitable locality. Then he thought ofMargate and Ramsgate, and even ventured to contemplate the ScotchHighlands, but his energy being exhausted by illness, he could not makeup his mind, so he sighed and felt supremely wretched.
Had there been any one at his elbow, to suggest a plan of some sort, andurge him to carry it out, he would have felt relieved and grateful. Butplans for our good are usually suggested and urged by those who love us,and Denham, being a bachelor and a misanthrope, happened to have no oneto love him. He was a very rich man--very rich indeed; and would havegiven a great deal of gold at that moment for a very small quantity oflove, but love is not a marketable commodity. Denham knew that andsighed again. He felt that in reference to this thing he was a beggar,and, for the first time in his life, experienced something of a beggar'sdespair.
While he sat thus, musing bitterly, there came a tap at the door.
"Come in."
The tapper came in, and presented to the astonished gaze of Mr Denhamthe handsome face and figure of Guy Foster.
"I trust you will forgive my intrusion, uncle," said Guy in apologetictones, as he advanced with a rather hesitating step, "but I am thebearer of a message from my mother."
Denham had looked up in surprise, and with a dash of sternness, but theexpression passed into one of sadness mingled with suffering. Hepointed to a chair and said curtly, "Sit down," as he replaced hisforehead on his hand, and partially concealed his haggard face.
"I am deeply grieved, dear uncle," continued Guy, "to see you looking sovery ill. I do sincerely hope--"
"Your message?" interrupted Denham.
"My mother having heard frequently of late that you are far from well,and conceiving that the fresh air of Deal might do you good, has sent meto ask you to be our guest for a time. It would afford us very greatpleasure, I assure you, uncle."
Guy paused here, but Mr Denham did not speak. The kindness of theunexpected and certainly unmerited invitation, put, as it was, in toneswhich expressed great earnestness and regard, took him aback. He feltill at ease, and his wonted self-possession forsook him. Probably muchof this was owing to physical weakness.
"Come, uncle," said Guy affectionately, "you won't refuse us? We alllive together in the cottage now, but we don't quite fill it; there isstill one room to spare, and my wife will be delighted to--"
"Your wife!" exclaimed Denham in amazement.
"Yes, uncle," replied Guy in some surprise. "Did you not get ourcards?"
Mr Denham rested his forehead again in his hand in some confusion, forhe remembered having received a letter long ago, the address of which heknew to be in his nephew's hand, and supposing it to be an applicationto be taken back into the office, he had tossed it into the fire withoutopening it. Feeling much perplexed, he said--"Oh, ah,--what is thelady's name?"
"Lucy Burton was her maiden name," said Guy; "she is the daughter of anIndependent minister, who was formerly a scripture-reader in Ramsgate."
"Humph!" ejaculated Denham. "Pray, may I ask what your profession is_now_?"
"I am cashier in the office of a very intimate friend of ours--MrSummers."
"What! the house with which we do so much business?"
"The same," said Guy with a smile; "but tell me, uncle, will you comeand stay with us? _Do_ say you will, if it were only for a week ortwo."
"I'll think of it, nephew."
Mr Denham did think of it. More than that, he went, and said he wouldstay a week. He stayed a week, and found himself in such comfortablequarters that he resolved to stay a fortnight. He did so, and thenagreed to remain a month. Finally, it became a standing joke withBluenose, who was a frequent visitor at the cottage kitchen, that he(Denham) was no better than the play-actors, who were always at their"last week but one," and never could get any farther.
But Mr Denham's health did not improve. He had imbibed so much tar andfog and filth through his nostrils that his constitution could notrecover from the effects, and at last it began to dawn upon him thathealth was of greater value than gold; that the accumulation of wealthwas not the main object for which man had been created; that there was afuture in regard to which it would be well that he should now make someinquiries.
Here Mr Denham turned by a sort of instinct to Amy Russell, whose facewas like a beam of sunshine in Sandhill cottage, and whose labours amongthe poor and the afflicted showed that she regarded life in this worldas a journey towards a better; as an opportunity of doing good; as aladder leading to a higher and happier sphere. In regard to this spherehe (Denham) knew next to nothing--except, of course, intellectually.Mr Denham turned to the right quarter for comfort, and found it.
Still the merchant's health did not improve, so his physiciansrecommended a sea-voyage. At an earlier period in his career he wouldas soon--sooner perhaps--have taken a balloon voyage, but sickness hadtaught him wisdom. He gave in; consented to take a passage in one ofhis own ships, the "Trident" (which had made several good voyages toAustralia), and ere long was ploughing over the billows of the SouthSeas on his way to the antipodes. Such is life!
Wonderful coincidences are of constant occurrence in this world. Itchanced that in the same year that Mr Denham made up his mind to take avoyage to Australia and back, Bax and Tommy Bogey made up their minds togive up digging for gold, and return to their native land. Theircompanion, Harry Benton, preferred to remain in the colony.
Bax and Tommy had only made enough to keep themselves alive in thegold-fields until their last year; but, during this year they had beenmore successful. They hit on a good "claim," worked it out, and clearedtwo thousand pounds! With this they resolved to retire, and push theirfortunes at home. Believing that they could realise more by carryingtheir gold home in dust and nuggets than by selling it in the colony,they had it packed in boxes, and took it aboard ship along with them.The ship that chanced to be ready to sail for England at this time wasthe "Trident," and almost the first face they saw on going aboard wasthe well-known visage of Mr Denham!
Sea air had done him good. He looked strong and well--comparatively.Bax and he started, and gazed in surprise on each other.
"How are you?" said Denham with some stiffness of manner.
"Thank you, very well," answered Bax.
Then both men felt and looked a little awkward.
"A-hem!" coughed Denham.
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"Hope you're well, sir?" said Bax.
There was little in the words, but there was much in the tone in whichthis was said. Mr Denham advanced and held out his hand. Bax shook itwarmly. They were sufficiently good friends during the whole of thatvoyage, although there was just enough of remembrance of former days inthe breast of each to prevent anything like cordiality between them.
The homeward voyage was prosperous. Favouring gales wafted them ontheir way. No storms arose to cause anxiety to the brave, or to terrifythe timid, and few incidents worthy of notice occurred until after theyhad doubled the Cape of Good Hope. But soon after this they met with anadventure which deserves record.