H. A. Rudall

“ Abel staggered towards the street door, stumbling over the hall chairs as he went. Before he went out into the fog he turned round, as if suddenly impressed with a new idea, and exclaimed, with a drunken sigh—“The Lord have mercy upon this house.” So he left them, and George resumed his post at the window.
“I wish Cairtree would come.”
“Charles has never seen Mr. Cairtree,” said Cissy, making the tea: and Cissy never looked prettier nor more in her natural sphere than when making tea. “I should like you to see him, Charles. He’s an old dear.” ”

“ Charles again repeated, “run home, Effie,” trying this time to speak angrily. Struck by a sudden idea, he put the papers in her little hand and bid her hide them under her cloak. “Effie, you understand those you love, and who love you dearly. Quick, quick. Run home and give them to papa.” The sound of other voices startled her, and suddenly, more like a spirit than ever, her form melted away in the mist and she was gone.
They were the voices of Cairtree and Abel, who must have heard Charles speaking to the child, and were now preparing to clear the hedge. ”

“ And so it fell, when the usual gradations of grief and pettish opposition to the change of suitors were gradually passed, that Cissy was married to George Turldon, and lived in the fine lawn-fronted villa he had built within view of the mills. In his own hard matter-of-fact way, George Turldon loved his wife. She liked jewels, and he brought her glittering cases from London; she was fond of flowers, and he festooned the garden with the brightest and the gayest. He always took her to the county balls, and was proud of his wife, and petted her, and worked harder than ever at the mills. ”

“ Sometimes it was a closely-curtained, very quiet room in England; the warm glow of a dying fire-light; the ticking of falling embers in the grate; the lulling sound as of a large, hushed city; the pressure of a hand—a small, thin hand stretched out from behind the curtain, as of somebody watching through the dreary night hours—and life slowly ebbing away.
Suddenly waking from a reverie somewhere in this strange direction, he discovered himself mechanically playing with a little pink-coloured note received that morning from his Cousin Cissy. ”

“ Arranging his clothes, and wiping the blood from his face, so as to conceal all traces of the recent struggle, he again entered George’s little room, where he was seated gloomily before a desk covered with scattered papers.
“George,” Charles said breathlessly, “I know you won’t believe what I am going to tell you; but your foreman, Mr. Cairtree, is the traitor you are in search of. It is he that has worked your ruin.” ”

“ Cissy, sighing at the thought of her sister’s folly, but calm, and never for a moment dreaming of the misfortune that overhung them nearer home, and threatened to sweep away her jewels, coaches, gardens, and all the little luxuries she delighted in. Charles, thinking of many things,—of the doctor’s interview, of the strange tale George had just confided to him, of the gentleman with the sweet voice, of Effie, who sat, quiet now, on a high chair at the table, and arched her pretty neck, while she tried to build a house with some old playing-cards. ”

“ As the drips came nearer, they seemed to change more and more into the sound of light footsteps, pattering on the wet, muddy path. A moment more it was Effie who stood beside him.
For some wild freak, she must have evaded the vigilance of Mrs. Turner, the nurse, and slipped out of the door when Charles left, to follow the path of her favourite in his dark journey.
“Effie, child! who let you come out to-night? Run home, run home.” ”

“ But in all this he never thought of himself and his wasted life; he only thought of some imaginary men, who might have done so much to ennoble their names and better their fellows, and who had really done so little; and he was inclined to pity rather than blame them. His mind, too, wandered to the Mountain Mills much sooner than the express could manage it, and he was there in the cosy parlour, and saw how contented Cissy was, and what a happy home she had. He had long ceased to reflect that that happy home might have been his too, as well as Cissy’s. ”

“ All alone in the choking fog, and remembering that he was without any means of defence in this desolate region, he once reproached himself for not having disclosed all to George, and allowed him to accompany him. But only for a moment, for he was glad to think that George’s life—so valuable to Cissy, the children, and many others,—would not be risked in this enterprise. His chief apprehension was, that Abel might arrive higher up in the lane and forestall him, by receiving the packet from Cairtree before the appointed hour. ”

“ It stood a little behind the Mountain Mills, and having to pass through the factory yard, he was a little surprised at that late hour to see a light gleaming through the fog (for it was foggy there too) from the little glass counting-house, where George was in the habit of writing and arranging accounts on Saturday afternoons. He said to himself, “George is more than usually busy,” and went towards the counting-house door with the intention of shaking hands with George, and giving him notice of his visit, before going in to see Cissy and the children. ”

“ He stopped for a moment to listen to the noise of carriage wheels passing along the street. “And, after all, why should such as I live? Why have I lived all this time? There is no one action of my life that has made the world one degree the better for my existence.”
As this was said half jocularly, the doctor laughed, and endeavoured to reassure his patient in the same bantering tone; but the only answer he obtained was, “Go on, doctor,” uttered with a strange mixture of good-humour and defiance. ”

“ Under certain circumstances, and barring the crust of habits long formed, he speculated whether there was not a something in every living man—however distorted and disguised—which would impel him also to make life a great and a noble thing. ”

“ But I must tell Cissy.” Here George, for the first time, looked distressed. “I must tell Cissy what’s in store for her.”
Cairtree took leave of George with a sigh. “I can do no good here. I shall be at my desk till late to-night, and if anything fresh occurs, I will not fail to let you know.”
Charles and Cissy were together in the green-papered parlour. Charles was mentioning, among other things, his intention to take a trip on the Continent, when George suddenly thrust in his head at the door and called to Cissy—“Come and see something else Mr. Cairtree has brought to you from London.” ”

“ He heard Cairtree say, in a hurried whisper, “Get them, be sure to get them, but avoid murder.”
How far Abel was disposed to follow the latter part of these instructions is undetermined; but a new detention arose at that juncture. Two gentlemen, chatting gaily, ascended the lane, and one of them asked Cairtree, in a pleasant voice, whether he could direct him to the residence of Mr. George Turldon—the proprietor of the mills—with whom he wished to speak on pressing business. Cairtree eyed him suspiciously. “Mr. Turldon, I know, is much occupied at present ”

“ It was the man with whom the kind gentleman had expostulated in the glass counting-house, and during his address—a long, rambling statement from which Charles could infer nothing but that Abel’s boy was in custody for some theft at the mills, and the father was pleading for leniency—he several times went through the performance of strangling his fur cap. George listened to him in frowning silence, and then said: “I have already given you my answer. You and your brother are the most discontented and mischievous spirits in the mill. ”

“ A violent blow on the shoulder, evidently intended for the head, made him stagger for a few moments; but he held the papers tight, and suddenly darting to the opposite side of the road, jumped over the hedge. ”

“ Charles was about to tell him how that the papers were recovered, and he might sleep calmly that night, but checked himself. No. The child—the child whom they were rather disposed, he feared, to regard as a useless burden, should herself be the harbinger of his good fortune. But had she returned? Where was Effie?
The very question that Cissy asked, when she came hastily into the room: her eyes dried now, and all traces of her grief past, like an autumnal shower. Mrs. ”