Part 29 (1/2)
”Have you money?”
”My husband seems to have money enough at present, but we have none to fall back upon.”
”What friends have you?”
”None that I can apply to.”
”H'm,” he said. ”Well, you must make use of me, and as far as I can manage it of my purse too, in case of an emergency. I mean, you know, Mrs. Hawker,” he added, looking full at her, ”to make this offer to you as I would to my own sister. Don't in G.o.d's name refuse my protection, such as it is, from any mistaken motives of jealousy. Now tell me, as honestly as you dare, how do you believe your husband gets his living?”
”I have not the least idea, but I fear the worst.”
”You do right,” he said. ”Forewarned is forearmed, and, at the risk of frightening you, I must bid you prepare for the worst. Although I know nothing about what he is engaged in, yet I know that the man Maitland, who lives above, and who you say is your husband's constant companion, is a desperate man. If anything happens apply to me straightway, and I will do all I can. My princ.i.p.al hope is in putting you in communication with your friends. Could you not trust me with your story, that we might take advice together?”
She told him all from beginning to the end, and at the last she said, ”If the worst should come, whatever that may be, I would write for help to Major Buckley, for the sake of the child that is to come.”
”Major Buckley!”--he asked eagerly,--”do you mean James Buckley of the --th?”
”The same man,” she replied, ”my kindest friend.”
”Oh, Lord!” he said, growing pale, ”I've got one of these spasms coming on. A gla.s.s of water, my dear lady, in G.o.d's name!”
He held both hands on his heart, and lay back in his chair a little, with livid lips, gasping for breath. By degrees his white hands dropped upon his lap, and he said with a sigh, ”Nearer still, old friend, nearer than ever. Not far off now.”
But he soon recovered and said, ”Mrs. Hawker, if you ever see that man Buckley again, tell him that you saw Charley Biddulph, who was once his friend, fallen to be the consort of rogues and thieves, cast off by everyone, and dying of a heart complaint; but tell him he could not die without sending a tender love to his good old comrade, and that he remembered him and loved him to the very end.”
”And I shall say too,” said Mary, ”when all neglected me, and forgot me, this Charles Biddulph helped and cheered me; and when I was fallen to the lowest, that he was still to me a courteous gentleman, and a faithful adviser; and that but for him and his goodness I should have sunk into desperation long ago. Be sure that I will say this too.”
The door opened, and George Hawker came in.
”Good evening, Captain Saxon,” said he. ”My wife seems to make herself more agreeable to you than she does to me. I hope you are pleased with her. However, you are welcome to be. I thank G.o.d I ain't jealous.
Where's Maitland?”
”He has not been here to-night, George,” she said, timidly.
”Curse him then. Give me a candle; I'm going up-stairs. Don't go on my account, Captain Saxon. Well, if you will, good night.”
Saxon bade him good-night, and went. George went up into Maitland's room, where Mary was never admitted; and soon she heard him hammer, hammering at metal, over-head. She was too used to that sound to take notice of it; so she went to bed, but lay long awake, thinking of poor Captain Saxon.
Less than a week after that she was confined. She had a boy, and that gave her new life. Poorly provided for as that child was, he could not have been more tenderly nursed or more prized and loved if he had been born in the palace, with his Majesty's right honourable ministers in the ante-room, drinking dry Sillery in honour of the event.
Now she could endure what was to come better. And less than a month after, just as she was getting well again, all her strength and courage were needed. The end came.
She was sitting before the fire, about ten o'clock at night, nursing her baby, when she heard the street-door opened by a key; and the next moment her husband and Maitland were in the room.
”Sit quiet, now, or I'll knock your brains out with the poker,” said George; and, seizing a china ornament from the chimney-piece, he thrust it into the fire, and heaped the coals over it.
”We're caught like rats, you fool, if they have tracked us,” said Maitland; ”and nothing but your consummate folly to thank for it. I deserve hanging for mixing myself up with such a man in a thing like this. Now, are you coming; or do you want half-an hour to wish your wife good-bye?”
George never answered that question. There was a noise of breaking gla.s.s down-stairs, and a moment after a sound of several feet on the stair.