Thereby Hangs a Tale. Volume One

He shook hands hastily, and left the house, glancing up once at Sam Jenkles’s upper window, and then, without appearing to notice him, taking a side glance at Barney of the black muzzle, who was making a meal off a scrap of hay, with his shoulders lending polish to a public-house board at the corner.

“There’s some little game being played up here,” said Frank to himself. “I’ll have a talk to Barnard.”

A Proposal

Frank Pratt had no sooner gone than Richard began to stride hastily up and down the little room, to the great endangering of Mrs Fiddison’s furniture. As he neared the window he glanced across, to see Netta sitting there at work, and a faint smile and blush greeted him.

“Poor girl,” he muttered. “But, no, it’s nonsense. She can’t think it. Absurd! She’s so young – so ill. There, it’s childish, and I should be a vain fool if I thought so.”

He stood thinking for a few moments, and as he paused there was the rattle of wheels in the street, and Sam Jenkles drove his hansom to the door and stopped, gave the horse in charge of a boy, and went in.

The next minute Richard had crossed too, for a plan had been formed on the instant.

Mrs Jenkles met him at the door, and at his wish led him to where Sam was seated at a table, hurriedly discussing a hot meal.

“Drops in, sir, if ever I drives a fare in this direction, and the missus generally has a snack for me. Eh, sir? Oh no, sir. All right, I’ll wait,” he said, in answer to a question or two.

And then Richard ascended the stairs, knocked and entered, to find that mother and daughter had just risen from their needlework, Mrs Lane to look grave, Netta with a bright look in her eyes, and too vivid a red in either cheek.

“Ah, you busy people,” he said, cheerily, “what an example you do set me! How’s our little friend to-day?”

The bright look of joy in Netta’s face faded slightly as she heard their visitor speak of her as he would of some child, but there was a happy, contented aspect once more as she placed her hand in his, and felt his frank pressure.

“Mrs Lane,” said Richard, speaking gaily, “I’m like the little boy in the story – I’m idle, and want some one to come and play with me, but I hope for better luck than he.”

Mother and daughter looked at him wonderingly.

“I’ve come to tell you,” he said, “that the sun shines brightly overhead; there’s a deep blue sky, and silvery clouds floating across it; and six or seven miles out northward there are sweet-scented wild flowers, waving green trees, all delicious shade; the music of song-birds, the hum of insects, and views that will gladden your hearts after seeing nothing but smoke and chimneypots. I am Nature’s ambassador, and I am here to say ‘Come.’”

As he spoke the work fell from Netta’s hands, her eyes dilated, and a look of intense glad longing shone from her soft, oval face, while she hung upon her mother’s lips, till, hearing her words, the tears gathered in her eyes, and she bent her head to conceal them.

Mrs Lane’s words were very few; they were grateful, but they told of work to be done by a certain time, and she said it was impossible.

“But it would do you both good. Miss Netta there wants a change badly,” said Richard; “and you haven’t heard half my plan. Jenkles has his cab at the door, and I propose a drive right out into the country, and when we get back you will ask me to tea. It will be a squeeze, but you will forgive that.”

Poor Mrs Lane’s face looked drawn in its pitiful aspect. She felt that such a trip would be like so much new life to her child, but she could not go, and she shook her head.

“It may not be etiquette, perhaps,” said Richard, quietly, “but I shall ask you to waive that, and let me take Netta here. You know it will do her good, and she will have Mr Jenkles, as well as your humble servant, to take care of her.”

Mrs Lane looked him searchingly in the face, which was as open as the day, and then, glancing at Netta, she saw her parted lips and look of intense longing. The refusal that had been imminent passed away, and laying her hand upon the young man’s arm, she said, softly —

“I will trust you.”

There was something almost painful in the look of joy in Netta’s face as, with trembling eagerness, she threw her arms round her mother, and then, with the excitement of a child, hurried away to put on hat and mantle.

“I shall be back directly,” she exclaimed.

Richard’s heart gave one heavy painful throb as he turned for an instant at the door.

Mrs Lane laid her hand upon his arm as soon as they were alone, and once more looked searchingly into his face.

“I ought not to do this,” she said, pitifully. “You’re almost a stranger; but it is giving her what she has so little of – pleasure; more, it is like giving her life. You know – you see how ill she is?”

“Poor child, yes,” said Richard.

“Child!”

“Yes,” said Richard, gravely. “I have always looked upon her as a child – or, at least, as a young, innocent girl. Mrs Lane, I tell you frankly, for I think I can read your feelings – every look, every attention of mine towards that poor girl has been the result of pity. If you could read me, I think you would never suspect me of trifling.”

“I am ready to trust you,” she said. “You will not be late. The night air would be dangerous for her – hush!”

“I’m ready!” exclaimed Netta, joyfully.

As she appeared framed in the doorway of the inner room, her dark hair cast back, eyes sparkling, and the flush as of health upon her cheeks, and lips parted to show her pure white teeth, Richard’s heart gave another painful throb, and he thought of Frank Pratt’s words, for it was no child that stood before him, but a very beautiful woman.

“You’ll be back before dark, my darling?” said Mrs Lane, tenderly.

“Oh yes,” cried Netta, excitedly. “Mr Lloyd will take such care of me; but – ”

The joy faded out of her countenance, and she clung to her mother, looking from her to the work.

“What is it, my dear?” said Mrs Lane, stroking her soft dark hair.

“It’s cruel to go and leave you here at work,” sobbed the girl.

“What! when you are going to get strength, and coming back more ready to help me?” said Mrs Lane, cheerfully. “There, go along! Take care of her, Mr Lloyd.”

Richard had been to the head of the stairs, and spoken to Sam, who was already on his box; and as the young man offered his arm, Netta took it, with the warm, soft blush returning, and she stole a look of timid love at the tall, handsome man who was to be her protector.

The next minute she was in the cab, Richard had taken his place at her side, and Sam essayed to start as the good-bye nods were given.

“Lor!” said Mrs Jenkles, her woman’s instinct coming to the fore, “what a lovely pair they do make!”

At the same moment, on the opposite side of the way, a lady with a widow’s cap cocked back on her head, gazed from behind a curtain, wiped her eyes on a piece of crape, and said, with a sigh —

“And him the handsomest and quietest lodger I ever had!”

Meanwhile, in answer to every appeal from Sam Jenkles, Ratty was laying his ears back, wagging his tail, and biting at nothing.

“Don’t you be skeared, Miss,” said Sam, through the little roof-trap, “it’s on’y his fun. Get on with yer, Ratty – I’m blowed if I aint ashamed on yer. Jest ketch hold of his head, and lead him arf a dozen yards, will yer, mate?” he continued, addressing a man, after they had struggled to the end of the street. “Thanky.”

For the leading had the desired effect, and Ratty went off at a trot to Pentonville Hill.

“Blest if I don’t believe that was Barney,” said Sam to himself, looking back, and he was quite right, for that gentleman it was; and as soon as the cab was out of sight he had taken a puppy out of one pocket of his velveteen coat, looked at it, put it back, and then slouched off to where he could take an omnibus, on whose roof he rode to Piccadilly, where he descended, made his way into Jermyn Street, and then stopping at a private house, rang softly, took the puppy out of his pocket, a dirty card from another, and waited till the door was answered.

“Tell the captain as I’ve brought the dawg,” he said to the servant, who left him standing outside; but returned soon after, to usher him into the presence of Captain Vanleigh, who smiled and rubbed his hands softly, as he wished Tiny Rea could have been witness of that which had been brought to him as news.

In the Woods