Oswald Langdon Part 18

Father and daughter have called upon a poor family, about whose dest.i.tution they learned on the previous day. Substantials for immediate want are brought. In response to sympathetic questions, the poor, grateful mother tells her pitiful story.

A young mechanic and a trusting, happy girl marry in Edinburgh. He is skillful, with good pay. They live frugally, but in comfort. The firm has a branch house in Calcutta. There is a vacancy, and this young man is offered the position. All expenses of the family for the trip will be paid, and the salary is better. Strongly attached to kindred in Edinburgh, they yet decide to seek better conditions in this far land.

They sail, and find their new home pleasant. Promotion follows and life's outlook is cheerful. Four children surround the family board, their future prospects bright, no fear of want hara.s.sing the fond parents, who doubt not the permanence of lucrative employment.

A slight dispute arises between manager and foreman. Neither yields the immaterial point, and the small breach widens, resulting in the latter's discharge. He seeks other work, but finds none. Two children sicken and die. The husband soon is stricken with fever, and after a severe sickness of many weeks recovers, but with disordered mind. He becomes violent, and is removed to an asylum. All their savings soon are gone, and the mother, with two hungry children, knows not which way to turn for help. In this dilemma they are visited by a kind-hearted woman whose husband had been bookkeeper for the same firm, but was discharged for dishonesty. Her husband had gone to England on some business, and was now in Bombay, but sent money. Funds and supplies came regularly from this generous friend, but months ago these ceased.

She called at this kind woman's home, but was surprised to learn of her removal, no one knew where. Supplies and money soon were gone, and for several months she and her children lived on scant fare from wages for odd jobs of sewing and housework.

She had been obliged to move into this poor part of the city because of cheaper rents. That week she had met Mary Dodge in one of the narrow lanes and called her by name, but received no response. The woman must have heard her, as she looked scared and hurried on, entering an old cabin just around the corner. Out of work, her children famis.h.i.+ng, she met a kind gentleman, who, learning her distress, said he knew of a wealthy Englishman and his daughter, and would acquaint them with her needs.

Without any question, Sir Donald and Esther drove back. In a few hours both returned, a cartload of supplies and some clothing accompanying their conveyance.

Sir Donald inquired where Mary Dodge lived. The thankful woman volunteered to show him, and they drove for some distance, when Esther was left in charge while Mrs. McLaren piloted Sir Donald through winding lanes to within a few rods of the cabin which Mrs. Dodge had been seen entering. Without being observed, they were soon back to the McLaren shanty. Promising to return, father and daughter, much elated, drove to their hotel.

Now that Mary Dodge has been found, discretion must be used. It will not do frankly and fully to discuss with her the situation. Such additional confidence would be fraught with indefinite, harmful results.

Sir Donald plans many ways of getting at the desired information. He will not even tell this wife about having met her husband in Paris until more is known of present feeling between them.

Why did she move so suddenly? What the cause for living secluded in such part of Calcutta? How occurred her poverty? Who advised the change? From whence came means of subsistence? Are marital sentiments still cherished?--were some of the questions first to be solved.

No well defined details of methods to be employed could be arranged, but rising very early, Sir Donald rode over to near the Dodge cabin, accompanied by the driver, who was left in charge of the conveyance. By the early move it was likely no one would follow to spy upon his actions.

Knocking at the low door, he hears hurried movements. Soon a blind is pushed slightly aside, and a scared face peers from the narrow opening.

Again knocking, there is no response. To allay any possible fears, he gently says:

"Open to a friend of the family!"

There was something in the tone inspiring confidence, and he was timidly admitted. That inquisitive, frightened look confirmed Sir Donald's fears. Taking the proffered stool, he sat down, much embarra.s.sed.

How shall he broach this sensitive subject and wound anew tender sensibilities of the innocent sufferer from the crimes of others?

Sir Donald follows the sense of compa.s.sion, which often is the acme of intrinsic craft. Glancing at the poor cot on which a sick girl is lying, he kindly inquires as to her ailment. Learning that it is some sort of low fever, about which the doctor has not expressed any positive opinion, Sir Donald suggests changes involving outlay of money, and says that these will be attended to at once. In apparently offhand manner, an order is written out on an uptown firm for several articles of food, clothing, bedding, and small household furniture. Handing this to the surprised woman, he remarked:

"It's all right--a part of my business."

Noting that the pleased look had been followed by one of uneasy perplexity, he says:

"Perhaps you are a little modest about presenting such an order, or the firm do not know you, Mrs. Dodge?"

The poor woman knows not what reply to make.

Having won the confidence of Mrs. Dodge, Sir Donald bluntly says:

"Do not be alarmed. I know your name and something of your past, but I am a real friend of the family, and can be trusted. Tell me just as much or little as you please, but let me know all about present troubles. You are not to blame, and your children must be cared for."

Seeing that she still wavered, Sir Donald gently says:

"You need not tell me about anything, but what can I do for you?"

Before time for reply, the sick child feebly said:

"Mamma, isn't papa gone a long time?"

The mother looked frightened, and quickly stepped to the cot, as if to caution the invalid.

"Yes; but, mamma, he has been gone so long, and does not write! Is Bombay a great way off, mamma?"

Moved by impulse to caution the child, motherly instinct toward uttering comforting a.s.surance and wifely loyalty to her husband's safety, the poor woman, stammering incoherently, looked helplessly at Sir Donald.

"But, mamma, the old gentleman said last night that papa might come any time, with lots of money."

Fully convinced that this loyal wife still trusted in her absent husband and was fearful of possible identification, Sir Donald now concludes to learn the whole truth.

Telling Mrs. Dodge that he has news for her, they sit down on a bench at the farther end of the cabin.

Kindly but positively a.s.serting that he knew much more than she about her husband's past life, and could do him much harm, he stated his desire was to help. Some professed friends were Mr. Dodge's enemies, interested in ruining him to s.h.i.+eld themselves. These were adroit, and posed as her friends while plotting the ruin of both. It was to save the whole family from deceitful schemes that he now begged her to trust him implicitly, keeping back nothing.

"You owe it to yourself and children to let me know all, that I may help in these troubles."

"Mamma, I dreamed about Brother Benny last night."

Still Mrs. Dodge hesitated.

"Benny reached out his arms and said, 'Come, Sister Nellie!'"

The reserve which Sir Donald's adroit appeals fail to remove yields to that childish clamor, coercive as brooding of halcyon when the wind is still.

How the husband unjustly had been suspected, discharged, and failed to get employment; to what depths of poverty the family had sunk; the fortunate meeting of William Dodge with Pierre Lanier, who had important business and would pay so well; such opportune relief when the family were hungry and dest.i.tute; the husband's trip to London and stay in that far-off city; his removal to Bombay, with other incidents previously related at the Paris confession, were told.

Still Mrs. Dodge said nothing about the particular points so vital to Sir Donald.

Money was sent and letters written. Her husband unavoidably was detained for a long time in Bombay, but expected to get the London business finished through negotiations with parties there. It took a long time to hear from Bombay. He gave her money before leaving for London, and she received an additional one hundred pounds. The family lived well, but not extravagantly, on this. She helped a needy woman who had several small children. Her husband wrote that he soon would be home and have more money. About the time he was expected back a friend came and shocked her with the news that influential persons opposed to Pierre Lanier had conspired to procure his arrest along with that of William Dodge. To outwit these enemies both of the Laniers and her husband must disappear. Their tricky foes would watch the mails and hara.s.s the Dodge family. For the present all writing must cease, and the Dodge family move. This removal must be prompt, and nothing was to be said about it.

She did as advised. Her surprise was great at being conveyed in a roundabout way for several hours, and unloaded with the children, after midnight, in a narrow street. This friend said not to be frightened, as all would soon be fixed, and conducted them through the winding lanes to the cabin. The family had lived there ever since and never heard from William Dodge.

Another pause. Mrs. Dodge hesitates to proceed further. Sir Donald inquires:

"What time did Pierre Lanier call last night?"

Looking straight at Mary Dodge, answer could not be evaded.

"At about ten o'clock."

"Was Paul with him?"

"Yes," is the startled reply.

"Why did they come disguised?"