It Is Never Too Late to Mend Part 99

By one of those freaks of mind which it is so hard to account for, every good feeling rushed upon him with far greater power than when he was in ---- Prison, and, strange to say, he now loved his reverence more and took his words deeper to heart than he had done when they were together.

His flesh crept with horror at the thought that he had been a criminal again, at least in intention, and that but for Heaven's mercy he would have been taken and punished with frightful severity, and above all would have wounded his reverence to the heart in return for more than mortal kindness, goodness and love. And, to do Robinson justice, this last thought made his heart sicken and his flesh creep more than all the rest. He was like a man who had fallen asleep on the brink of an unseen precipice--awoke--and looked down.

The penitent man said his prayers this morning and vowed on his knees humility and a new life. Henceforth he would know himself; he would not attempt to guide himself; he would just obey his reverence. And to begin, whenever a temptation came in sight he would pray against it then and there and fly from it, and the moment his master returned he would leave the town and get away to honest George Fielding with his pa.s.sport--Susan's letter.

With these prayers and these resolutions a calm complacency stole over him; he put his reverence's tract and George's letter in his bosom and came down into the kitchen.

The first person he met was the housemaid, Jenny.

"Oh, here is my lord!" cried she. "Where were you last night?"

Robinson stammered out, "Nowhere in particular. Why?"

"Oh, because the master was asking for you, and you weren't to be found high or low."

"What, is he come home?"

"Came home last night."

"I'll go and take him his hot water."

"Why, he is not in the house, stupid. He dressed the moment he came home and went out to a party. He swore properly at your not being in the way to help him dress."

"What did he say?" asked Robinson, a little uneasy.

The girl's eyes twinkled. "He said, 'How ever am I to lace myself now that scamp is not in the way?'"

"Come, none of your chaff, Jenny."

"Why you know you do lace him, and pretty tight, too."

"I do nothing of the kind."

"Oh, of course you won't tell on one another. Tell me our head scamp does not wear stays! A man would not be as broadshouldered as that and have a waist like a wasp and his back like a board without a little lacing, and a good deal, too."

"Well, have it your own way, Jenny. Won't you give me a morsel of breakfast?"

"Well, Tom, I can give you some just for form's sake; but bless you, you won't able to eat it."

"Why not?"

"Gents that are out all night bring a headache home in the morning in place of an appet.i.te."

"But I was not out all night. I was at home soon after twelve."

"Really?"

"Really!"

"Tom?"

"Well, Jane!"

"Those that ain't clever enough to hide secrets should trust them to those that are."

"I don't know what you mean, my la.s.s."

"Oh, nothing; only I sat up till halfpast one in the kitchen, and I listened till three in my room.

"You took a deal of trouble on my account."

"Oh, it was more curiosity than regard," was the keen reply.

"So I should say."

The girl colored and seemed nettled by this answer. She set demurely about the work of small vengeance. "Now," said she with great cordiality, "you tell me what you were doing all night and why you broke into the house like a--a--hem! instead of coming into it like a man, and then you'll save me the trouble of finding it out whether you like or not."

These words chilled Robinson. What! had a spy been watching him--perhaps for days--and above all a female spy--a thing with a velvet paw, a noiseless step, an inscrutable countenance, and a microscopic eye.

He hung his head over his cup in silence. Jenny's eye was scanning him. He felt that without seeing it. He was uneasy under it, but his self-reproach was greater than his uneasiness.

At this juncture the street door was opened with a latch-key. "Here comes the head scamp,' said Jenny, with her eye on Robinson. The next moment a bell was rung sharply. Robinson rose.

"Finish your breakfast," said Jenny, "I'll answer the bell," and out she went. She returned in about ten minutes with a dressing-gown over her arm and a pair of curling-irons in her hand. "There," said she, "you are to go in the parlor, and get up the young buck; curl his n.o.b and whiskers. I wish it was me, I'd curl his ear the first thing I'd curl."

"What, Jane, did you take the trouble to bring them down for me?"

"They look like it," replied the other tartly, as if she repented the good office.

Robinson went in to his master. He expected a rebuke for being out of the way; but no! he found the young gentleman in excellent humor and high spirits. "Help me off with this coat, Tom."

"Yes, sir."

"Oh! not so rough, confound you. Ah! Ugh!"

"Coat's a little too tight, sir."

"No it isn't--it fits me like a glove but I am stiff and sore. There, now, get me a s.h.i.+rt."

Robinson came back with the s.h.i.+rt, and aired it close to the fire; and this being a favorable position for saying what he felt awkward about, he began:

"Mr. Miles, sir."

"Hallo!"

"I am going to ask you a favor."

"Out with it!"