It Is Never Too Late to Mend Part 85

"The same. I have got only a fortnight to move all my things. Will you do me a kindness now, will you see them put into the new house?"

"Me, John! why I should be afraid something would go wrong."

"Well, it isn't fair of me to put this trouble on you at your age; but read this letter--there is fifteen hundred pounds waiting for me in the North."

The old woman put on her spectacles and read the letter slowly. "Go, John! go by all means! I will see all your things moved into the new house--don't let them be a hindrance; you go. Your old mother will take care your things are not hurt moving, nor you wronged in the way of expense."

"Thank you, mother! thank you! they say there is no friend like a mother, and I dare say they are not far wrong."

"No such friend but G.o.d--none such but G.o.d!" said the old woman with great emphasis and looking Meadows in the face with a searching eye.

"Well, then, here are the keys of the new house, and here are my keys. I am off tonight, so good-by, mother. G.o.d bless you!"

He had just turned to go, when by an unusual impulse he turned, took the old woman in his hands, almost lifted her off the ground, for she weighed light, and gave her a hasty kiss on the cheek; then he set her down and strode out of the house about his business.

When curious Hannah ran in the next moment she found the old lady in silent agitation. "Oh, dear! What is the matter, Dame Meadows?"

"Nothing at all, silly girl."

"Nothing! And look at you all of a tremble."

"He took me up all in a moment and kissed me. I dare say it is five-and-twenty years since he kissed me last. He was a curly-headed lad then."

So this had set the poor old thing trembling. She soon recovered her firmness and that very evening Hannah and she slept in John's house, and the next day set to and began to move his furniture and prepare his new house for him.

CHAPTER x.x.xIII.

PETER CRAWLEY received a regular allowance during his chief's absence and remained in constant communication with him, and was as heretofore his money-bag, his tool, his invisible hand. But if anybody had had a microscope and lots of time they might have discovered a gloomy hue spreading itself over Crawley's soul. A pleasant illusion had been rudely shaken.

All men have something they admire.

Crawley admired cunning. It is not a sublime quality, but Crawley thought it was, and revered it with pious, affectionate awe. He had always thought Mr. Meadows No. 1 in cunning, but now came a doleful suspicion that he was No. 2.

Losing a portion of his veneration for the chief he had seen outmaneuvered, he took the liberty of getting drunk contrary to his severe command, and being drunk and maudlin he unbosomed himself on this head to a low woman who was his confidante whenever drink loosened his tongue.

"I'm out spirits, Sal. I'm tebbly out spirits. Where shall we all go to?

I dinn't think there was great a man on earth z Mizza Meadows. But the worlz wide. Mizza Levi z greada man--a mudge greada man (hic). He was down upon us like a amma (hic). His Jew's eye went through our lill sgeme like a gimlet. 'Fools!' says he--that's me and Meadows, 'these dodges were used up in our family before Lunnun was built. Fools!' Mizza Levi despises me and Meadows; and I respect him accordingly. I'm tebbly out spirits (hic)."

CHAPTER x.x.xIV.

FARMER MERTON received a line from Meadows telling him he had gone into Lancas.h.i.+re on important business, and did not expect to be back for three months, except perhaps for a day at a time. Merton handed the letter to Susan.

"We shall miss him," was her remark.

"That we shall. He is capital company."

"And a worthy man into the bargain," said Susan warmly, "spite of what little-minded folk say and think. What do you think that Will Fielding did only yesterday?"

"I don't know."

"Well, he followed me into--there, it is not worth while having an open quarrel, but I shall hate the sight of his very face. I can't think how such a fool can be George's brother. No wonder George and he could not agree. Poor Mr. Meadows--to be affronted in his own house, just for treating me with respect and civility. So that is a crime now."

"What are you saying, girl? That young pauper affront my friend Meadows, the warmest man for fifty miles round. If he has, he shall never come on my premises again. You may take your oath of that."

Susan looked aghast. This was more than she had bargained for. She was the last in the world to set two people by the ears.

"Now don't you be so peppery, father," said she. "There is nothing to make a quarrel about."

"Yes there is, though, if that ignorant beggar insulted my friend."

"No! no! no!"

"Why, what did you say?"

"I say--that here is Mr. Clinton coming to the door."

"Let him in, girl, let him in. And you needn't stay. We are going to talk business."

CHAPTER x.x.xV.

MRS. MEADOWS, preparing her son's new home and defeating the little cheating tradesmen and workmen that fasten like leeches on such as carry their furniture to a new house; Hannah, working round and round her in a state of glorious excitement; Crawley, smelling of Betts' British brandy, and slightly regretting he was not No. 1's tool (Levi's) instead of No. 2's, as he now bitterly called him, and writing obsequious letters to, and doing the dirty work of, the said No. 2; old Merton speculating, sometimes losing, sometimes winning; Meadows gone to Lancas.h.i.+re with a fixed idea that Susan would be his ruin if he could not cure himself of his love for her; Susan rather regretting his absence, and wis.h.i.+ng for his return, that she might show him how little she sympathized with Will Fielding's suspicions, injustice and brutality.

Leaving all this to work, our story follows an honest fellow to the other side of the globe.

CHAPTER x.x.xVI.

GEORGE FIELDING found Farmer Dodd waiting to drive him to the town where he was to meet Mr. Winchester. The farmer's wife would press a gla.s.s of wine upon George. She was an old playmate of his, and the tear was in her eye as she shook his hand and bade Heaven bless him, and send him safe back to "The Grove."

"A taking of his hand and him going across sea!! Can't ye do no better nor that?" cried the stout farmer; "I'm not a-looking, dame."

So then Mrs. Dodd put her hands on George's shoulders and kissed him rustic-wise on both cheeks--and he felt a tear on his cheek, and stammered "Good-by, Jane--you and I were always good neighbors, but now we shan't be neighbors for a while. Ned, drive me away, please, and let me shut my eyes and forget that ever I was born."

The farmer made a signal of intelligence to his wife and drove him hastily away.

They went along in silence for about two miles. Then the farmer suddenly stopped. George looked up, the other looked down.

"Allen's Corner, George. You know 'The Grove' is in sight from here, and after this we shan't see it again on account of this here wood, you know."

"Thank ye, Ned! Yes--one more look--the afternoon sun lies upon it. Oh, how different it do seem to my eyes now, by what it used when I rode by from market; but then I was going to it, now I'm going far, far from it--never heed me, Ned--I shall be better in a moment. Heaven forgive me for thinking so little of the village folk as I have done." Then he suddenly threw up his hands. "G.o.d bless the place and bless the folk,"

he cried very loud; "G.o.d bless them all, from the oldest man in it, and that is grandfather, down to Isaac King's little girl that was born yester-night! and may none of them ever come to this corner, and their faces turned toward the sea."