"Well, well, if you wish it--but I"m not a child."
Sidney released his father"s hands, caught up his portmanteau, and marched down stairs. Mattie, pale with suppressed excitement, met him in the shop. He put down his burden, caught her by the wrist, and drew her into the parlour. Seeing Ann Packet there, he bade her go down stairs somewhat abruptly, released his grip of Mattie, and waited for Ann"s withdrawal, beating his foot impatiently upon the carpet.
Mattie looked nervously towards him, and thought that she had never seen him look more stern and hard. His face was deathly white, and his eyes burned like coals behind the gla.s.ses that he wore.
"Mattie," he said, "you and I, my father and you, are old friends."
"Yes, sir."
"I will ask a favour of you before I go. Take care of him! Ask him to come down here to smoke his pipe with you, and keep him as light-hearted as you can till I return."
"Who?--I, sir?"
"You have the way with you; you are quick to observe, and it will not take much pains to keep him pleased, I think. When he begins to wonder why I haven"t returned, break to him by degrees that I have deceived him, fearing the shock too sudden for his strength."
"Oh! sir, how can you leave all this to me?"
"I have faith in no one else, Mattie, to do me this service. You are always cool, and will know the best way to proceed. Cheer up the old gentleman all you can, too;--you were a quaint girl once--don"t let him miss me if you can help it."
"And you"ll be gone----"
"Six weeks or two months."
"It"s not a very happy journey, sir."
"How do you know that?" was the quick rejoinder.
"You"re not looking happy--there"s trouble in your face, Mr. Sidney."
"Well, there is room for it, and I am going, as I fear, to face trouble, and bring back with me disappointment. We can"t have it all our own way in this world, Mattie."
"No, sir, that"s not likely."
"And if there be more troubles than one ahead, why we must fight against them till we beat them back, or they--crush us under foot. Good-bye."
He shook hands with her long and heartily, adding, "You will remember your trust--you will break the news to him like a daughter?"
"I"ll do my best, sir."
"He knows that I cannot send him any letters."
"And, and--letters for you?"
She thought of the letter which Harriet Wesden, in her sleepless bed, might be pondering upon then. Of the new trouble which he seemed to guess not; for immediately afterwards he said--
"Keep the letters till I come back--and give my love to Harriet; tell her I shall think of her every hour of the day and night. I wrote to her the last thing this evening. Now, good-bye, old girl, and wish me luck."
"The best of luck, Mr. Sidney--with all my heart!"
"Luck in the distance--luck when I come back again, and see it shining in my Harriet"s eyes. Ah! _it won"t do!_" he added, with a stamp of his foot.
"I"ll pray for it sir," cried Mattie; "we can"t tell what may happen for the best, or what _is_ for the best, however it may trouble us at first."
"Spoken like the parson at the corner shop," he said, a little irreverently. "Bravo, Mattie--honest believer!"
He pa.s.sed from the shop into his cab, glancing at the up-stairs windows, and waving his hand for a moment towards his father, waiting anxiously there to see the last of him.
The cab rattled away the moment afterwards, and Sidney Hinchford was borne on his unknown journey.
On the evening of the next day, a letter, in Harriet Wesden"s hand-writing, was received. The postman and Mr. Hinchford, senior, came into the shop together.
"Sidney Hinchford, Esq.," said the postman.
"Thank you--I"ll post it to him when he sends me his address," said Mr.
Hinchford. "By Jove!" looking at the superscription, "the ladies miss him already."
Harriet Wesden had kept her promise, and found courage to write her story out.
END OF THE FIRST VOLUME.