Part 13 (2/2)

”Mrs. Warden, I presume?” said the stranger. ”I saw your carriage out in the street, and I have brought you this--your purse, is it not?”

Mrs. Warden looked at it--yes, certainly, it was hers, with E. W. inlaid in black on the polished ivory.

”I happened to see it, as I turned the corner, in the hands of a girl--one of the most disreputable in the quarter,” the stranger explained; adding, ”I am the poor-law inspector of the district.”

Mrs. Warden thanked him, although she did not at all like his appearance. But when she again looked round the room she was quite alarmed by the change which had taken place in its occupants.

The husband sat upright in the bed and glared at the fat gentleman, the wife's face wore an ugly smile, and even the poor wee cripple had scrambled towards the door, and resting on his lean arms, stared upward like a little animal.

And in all these eyes there was the same hate, the same aggressive defiance. Mrs. Warden felt as though she were now separated by an immense interval from the poor woman with whom she had just been talking so openly and confidentially.

”So that's the state you're in to-day, Martin,” said the gentleman, in quite a different voice. ”I thought you'd been in that affair last night. Never mind, they're coming for you this afternoon. It'll be a two months' business.”

All of a sudden the torrent was let loose. The man and woman shouted each other down, the girl behind the stove came forward and joined in, the cripple shrieked and rolled about. It was impossible to distinguish the words; but what between voices, eyes, and hands, it seemed as though the stuffy little room must fly asunder with all the wild pa.s.sion exploding in it.

Mrs. Warden turned pale and rose, the gentleman opened the door, and both hastened out. As she pa.s.sed down the pa.s.sage she heard a horrible burst of feminine laughter behind her. It must be the woman--the same woman who had spoken so softly and despondently about the poor children.

She felt half angry with the man who had brought about this startling change, and as they now walked side by side up the street she listened to him with a cold and distant expression.

But gradually her bearing changed; there was really so much in what he said.

The poor-law inspector told her what a pleasure it was to him to find a lady like Mrs. Warden so compa.s.sionate towards the poor. Though it was much to be deplored that even the most well-meant help so often came into unfortunate hands, yet there was always something fine and enn.o.bling in seeing a lady like Mrs. Warden--

”But,” she interrupted, ”aren't these people in the utmost need of help?

I received the impression that the woman in particular had seen better days, and that a little timely aid might perhaps enable her to recover herself.”

”I am sorry to have to tell you, madam,” said the poor-law inspector, in a tone of mild regret, ”that she was formerly a very notorious woman of the town.”

Mrs. Warden shuddered.

She had spoken to such a woman, and spoken about children. She had even mentioned her own child, lying at home in its innocent cradle. She almost felt as though she must hasten home to make sure it was still as clean and wholesome as before.

”And the young girl?” she asked, timidly.

”No doubt you noticed her--her condition.”

”No. You mean--”

The fat gentleman whispered some words.

Mrs. Warden started: ”By the man!--the man of the house?”

”Yes, madam, I am sorry to have to tell you so; but you can understand that these people--” and he whispered again.

This was too much for Mrs. Warden. She turned almost dizzy, and accepted the gentleman's arm. They now walked rapidly towards the carriage, which was standing a little farther off than the spot at which she had left it.

For the immovable one had achieved a feat which even the humorist had acknowledged with an elaborate oath.

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