JOAN HASTE, H. RIDER HAGGARD [free ereaders TXT] 📗

awhile and talk. What part of England do you come from?"

"From the Eastern counties," answered Joan.

"Dear me! that is strange--quite a coincidence, I declare. I come from the East coast myself. I was born at Yarmouth, though it is many and many a year since I have seen a herring boat. You see, my story is a very simple one. I was an orphan girl, for my dear father was drowned in an October gale when fishing at sea, and I came to London with a family as nursemaid. They did not treat me kindly--even now I cannot say that they did, although I wish to be charitable--for they discharged me because I was not strong enough to do the work, and if I had not been taken in out of pity by a widow woman, a dressmaker and my predecessor in this very house, I do not know what would have become of me. My husband was her only child, and it was part of my duty, and indeed of my pleasure, to look after him in his affliction so far as I was able. Then when his mother died I married him, for I could not make up my mind to leave him alone, and this of course I must have done unless I became his wife. So you see, my dear, I took him on and the business with him, and we have been very happy ever since--so happy that sometimes I wonder why God is so good to me, who am full of faults. One sorrow we have had, it is true, though now even that seems to have become a joy: it was after Sally was born. She was a beautiful baby, and when for the first time I grew sure that she would be deaf and dumb also, I cried till I thought my heart would break, and wished that she might die. Now I see how wicked this was, and every night I thank Heaven that I was not taken at my word, for then my heart would have broken indeed." And the dear little woman's eyes filled with tears as, putting her arm round the child's waist, she kissed her tenderly.

There was something so beautiful in the scene that Joan almost cried in sympathy, and even Jim, who seemed to understand everything, for one moment ceased to smile, and having wiped away a tear from his round blue eye, stretched out his great arms and swept both the mother and the daughter into a confused embrace.

"You say that you are full of faults," said Joan, turning her head until the three of them had recovered their composure, "but I think you are an angel."

"If to tend and care for those whom one loves is to be an angel, /I/ think that we shall most of us get to heaven," she answered, shaking her head; then added, "Oh! you wretched Jim, you have broken my spectacles--the new ones."

Jim, watching his wife's lip and the damaged glasses, looked so comically distressed that Joan burst out laughing, while Sally, seeing what was the matter, ran to the back room to fetch another pair.

"And now, my dear," Mrs. Bird said presently, "you say that you have come to London to get work, though why you should want work if you have plenty of money I do not quite understand. What kind of employment do you wish to take? For my part I cannot think, for, to be frank with you, my dear, you seem too much of a lady for most things."

"I thought," said Joan diffidently, "that I might perhaps get a situation as one of those girls in shops whom they use to hang cloaks on for the approval of customers. You see, I am--tall, and I am not clever enough to teach, so I know nothing else for which I should be fit."

Mrs. Bird shook her head. "I dare say that you might come by such employment, my dear, but I tell you at once that I do not approve of it. I know something of the wickedness of London, and I think that this sort of occupation puts too many temptations in the way of a young lady like you, who are so beautiful, and do not seem to have any home ties to keep your thoughts from them. We are most of us weak, remember; and flattery, and promises, and grand presents, all of which would be offered to you, are very nice things."

"I am not afraid of such temptations, Mrs. Bird," Joan answered, with a sad confidence that at once attracted the quick little woman's attention.

"Now, when a person tells me that she is not afraid of a thing," she said, glancing at her, "I conclude that she is either totally without experience and foolhardy, or that, having won the experience and passed through the fire, she no longer fears a danger which she has overcome, or----" and she stopped.

This vein of speculative reflection did not seem to recommend itself to Joan; at any rate she changed the subject.

"You have twice called me a lady, Mrs. Bird," she said, "but I must tell you that I am nothing of the sort. Who my father was I don't even know, though I believe him to have been a gentleman, and my mother was the daughter of a yeoman farmer."

"Married?" asked Mrs. Bird interrogatively.

Joan shook her head.

"Ah! I understand," said Mrs. Bird.

"That is partly why I left home," explained Joan.

"Meaning Bradmouth? Don't look surprised, my dear. I saw the name on the clergyman's testimonial, and also on your box."

"Yes, Bradmouth. I lived there with an aunt, and everybody looked down upon me because of my position."

"That was very wicked of them. But did they begin to look down upon you all at once, or had you, perhaps, some other reason for coming away? I suppose your aunt knew that you were coming?"

"No, she did not know. We do not get on together, and I thought it best not to tell her. Also, she wanted me to marry somebody whom I dislike."

"Because there is somebody else whom you do like, I suppose, my dear. Well, it is no affair of mine. But if you will not think me impertinent, where then do you get your money from?"

"A gentleman----"

"A gentleman!" exclaimed Mrs. Bird, dropping her work in horror.

"Oh! no, not that," said Joan, blushing; "he is a kind of guardian, a friend of my father's, I believe. At any rate he has paid for me all these years, and says that he will allow me five pounds a month; though I would rather earn my own living if possible."

"A friend of your father's? What a strange story! I suppose that /he/ is not your father, my dear?"

"My father!" said Joan, opening her eyes wide in amazement--"Mr. Levinger my father! Of course not. Why, if he were, would he have treated me like a stranger all my life?"

"It is possible," said Mrs. Bird drily; "I have heard of such things."

"Oh no, he is not bad enough for that; in fact, he is very good and kind. He knew that I was coming away, and gave me five-and-twenty pounds to start on, and he told me himself that he was left my trustee by my father, who is dead, but whose name he was bound not to reveal."

"Indeed," answered Mrs. Bird, pursing up her lips. "And now I must go and see about the dinner. As it happens, I do work for some of the big shops; and I will inquire if there is any situation vacant that might suit you. Look: Jim wants you to turn your head a little, so that he can see your nose. Is he not making a beautiful likeness?" And, nodding affectionately to her husband, she left the room.

Once outside the door, Mrs. Bird stood still and reflected. "There is a mystery about that girl," she thought, "and she has not told me all her story: she has left out the love affair--I could see it in her face. Now, if I were wise, I should send her about her business without more words; but, somehow, I cannot find the heart to do it. I suppose it is because she is so beautiful, and seems so sad and friendless; and after all it is one's duty to help those who are placed thus--yes, even if they have not been quite respectable, though of course I have no right to suppose that she has not. No, I cannot turn her away. To do so might be to bring her to ruin, and that would be a dreadful thing to have upon one's mind. But I do not think much of that guardian of hers, Mr. Levinger she called him, who can send such a lovely girl to take her chance in London without providing her with a proper home. It looks almost as if he wished to be rid of her: altogether it is a very strange story. I must say that it interests me; but then curiosity always was one of my sins, and I have not conquered it yet." And again shaking her head, this time at the thought of her own depravity, Mrs. Bird made her way to the kitchen.

After dinner was over she announced to Joan that they were all going out for a walk in the Park, and asked her if she would like to accompany them. Joan, of course, was delighted, for already she began to feel a want of the fresh air to which she was accustomed; but as she accepted she looked inquiringly at Mr. Bird.

"Ah, my dear," said his wife, "you are wondering how he can come out walking when his legs are crippled. Well, presently you shall see. Now go and put on your hat."

By the time that Joan was ready she found that a long wheel-chair, which she had noticed standing in the passage, had been run into the sitting-room, and into this chair Mr. Bird shifted himself with marvellous agility by the help of his muscular arms, nodding and smiling at Joan the while.

"How on earth will they get it down the steps?" she wondered. Soon the mystery was solved, for, the front door having been opened, Sally appeared with three grooved boards which reached from the lintel to the pavement. The three wheels of the chair having been set in the grooves, Mr. Bird grasped the iron railings on either side of the steps, and, smiling triumphantly, launched himself with much dignity into the street.

"There, my dear!" said Mrs. Bird, while Sally replaced the boards in the passage and shut the door, "necessity is the mother of invention. Quite clever, isn't it? But we have other contrivances that are even cleverer."

Then they started, Mr. Bird guiding himself, while Sally and Mrs. Bird who was arrayed in a prim little bonnet and mantle, pushed behind. Joan offered to assist, but was not allowed this honour because of her inexperience of the streets, at any rate until they reached the Park. So she walked by the side of the chair, wondering at the shops and the noise and bustle of the Edgware Road.

Presently they came to the corner opposite the Marble Arch, where, as usual, the wide roadway was blocked with traffic. "How will they ever get across there?" thought Joan; "it frightens me to look at it."

But it did not frighten Mrs. Bird and her family, who, without a moment's hesitation, plunged into the thick of it, calling to Joan to keep close to them. It was really wonderful to see the skill with which the transit was accomplished; cabs, omnibuses and carriages bore down upon them from all directions, but the Bird family were not dismayed. Here and there the chair headed, now passing under the nose of a horse and now grazing the wheel of a cab, till at length it arrived safely at the farther pavement. Joan