London's Heart: A Novel

"I am going," says Mr. Sheldrake, energetically buttoning his coat-"where to, do you think?"

"I haven't the slightest interest in knowing," Felix replies.

"You will alter your note when you hear I am going to Messrs. Tickle and Flint, Alfred's employers, to tell them where it is likely they will find the runaway clerk who has embezzled their money. You thought the game was over, did you? Here is an unexpected check for you."

Mr. Sheldrake, with a wicked smile, is hurrying from the room, when Felix, in his brightest manner, says with a pleasant laugh,

"I checkmate you. I have myself been to Messrs. Tickle and Flint, and have arranged with them. This is in strict confidence between you and me, as men of-well, we will say of honour. If you go, you will find that they have nothing to say against Alfred. But I should advise you to beware of Tickle and Flint; they are my lawyers in the little matter in which you were very nearly putting in an appearance in the dock. Shall I call 'checkmate' again, for the game is over?"

He turns his back upon Mr. Sheldrake, who takes his leave with no good feelings in his heart, you may be sure. Felix takes Lily's hand, and looks fondly into her eyes.

"This last piece of news is true, my darling. I have made myself responsible to the firm for Alfred's debt; and Messrs. Tickle and Flint have accepted fifty pounds on account. It was not an easy matter to persuade them; but I pleaded with them effectually, and it is a satisfaction to them to know that they will not be losers. Alfred, of course, will not be employed in the office again; but he is free, and let us thank God."

Her heart is too full for words; she can only press his hand to her trembling lips, and bid God bless him. He looks round with a happy smile.

"All selfishness, sir, believe me!" he says to Old Wheels. "I would not change my lot with that of the best man in England!"

* * * * * *

A scene of another description took place at the same time between two women, mother and daughter. Felix brought Martha Day from London, after his visit to Alfred's employers. Before he returned to the inn, to play the principal part in the scene just described, he took Martha to the tent in which Lizzie was nursing Alfred, and said,

"You will find your daughter in there. Keep with her until I come for you."

As Martha timidly entered the tent, Lizzie turned with a low cry, and threw her arms round her mother's neck.

"I sent a letter to you this morning, mother; but you could not have received it."

"I came home last night, my dear," Martha replied.

"Last night! How anxious you must have been! If I had thought you were coming back, I would have left word."

"I was almost distracted, Lizzie. Felix found me at the house this morning in a sad state, and told me all."

Lizzie moved to where Alfred was lying. A bed had been made up for him on the ground, and he was murmuring feverishly in his sleep. She knelt by his side, but could not make sense of the words that came from his lips. Names of horses and jockeys and prophets, with expressions of fondness for Lizzie and Lily, were strangely mingled together.

"He would have died, mother, if I had not come last night! I found him lying under a hedge in a strong fever. He has not recognised me yet. If he dies, my heart will break! You will help me to nurse him, mother?"

"Yes, dear child."

They gazed at each other wistfully. Lizzie's eyes were heavy and weary with watching. Filled as was Martha's heart with yearning love for her child, there was an expression of misery in her face. Lizzie saw it, and a sad smile played upon her lips.

"I want all your love, mother!"

"You have it, dear child!"

"And yet you are unhappy."

Martha did not reply; and after a pause Lizzie continued, in a low sweet voice:

"Mother, I am going to make you happy."

"Lizzie!"

"Lying there as Alfred is lying now-dying, perhaps-I may consider myself absolved from my promise. Ah, mother, you are not tender to him; you have not kissed him; you have no kind thoughts in your heart for him! Is it not so? You do not answer, and I love him so! Mother, kiss Alfred."

Martha leant towards the sleeping man; but fast-flowing tears came from her eyes, and she wrenched herself away from him, and said, in a choking voice,

"I cannot, child; I cannot!"

"Ah, mother, you wrong him," said Lizzie tenderly. "And me. You spoke some words to me last evening. They are in my mind now. Look at me, mother. Place your hand in mine."

Martha placed her hand in Lizzie's, and Lizzie's other hand stole forward, and imprisoned it. An eager light flashed into Martha's eyes as she looked down on the hand that lay uppermost.

"Lizzie! A wedding-ring!"

"We were married six months ago, mother. But Alfred made me promise solemnly to keep it secret until he gave me permission. He wanted to make his fortune first, poor dear! I have broken my promise; but I don't think he would blame me. Mother, will you kiss Alfred now? Will you kiss my husband?"

* * * * * *

It is so short a time since this last scene was acted, that there is but little more to tell. All those persons who have taken part in the story are living now. Alfred went through a very severe illness, but has almost recovered his strength. He is very humble; let us hope that the bitter experience he has undergone will make him a better man. His mind is filled with good resolves as he looks at Lizzie, who sits at his side with a baby at her breast.

Mr. David Sheldrake prospers. Will the law ever give him his proper position in society, and deprive him of the means of lawful wrong doing? Let us hope that it will-and soon.

The Reverend Emanuel Creamwell still reigns at Stapleton. The justices of the peace who are ruled by him, and who speak their sentences out of his mouth, pursue the crooked tenor of their way. Last week, a woman nearly eighty years of age, whose antecedents are good, was charged before them with damaging a fence to the amount of one penny. The owner of the fence, a farmer, would not appear against her, and a policeman was the only witness. The woman is nearly stone-deaf, and could not hear a word of the evidence. She and her aged husband depended upon parish relief for support, and between them would have found it difficult, after their long battle of life, to muster sufficient money to pay for one day's food. The policeman said he charged the woman with the terrible offence, and that she denied it, and said she had merely broken a bit of dead wood with her foot. The woman being deaf, could not examine the witness. The magistrates pronounced the sentence, as dictated by the clergyman. She was found guilty, and was condemned to pay one penny for the damage done to the property of a man who was too merciful to prosecute; was fined fivepence in addition to the penny; and was required to pay the cost of the trial, amounting to thirteen shillings and sixpence. In default of these payments, she was condemned to prison for seven days. The old deaf woman was sent to prison. And the clergyman, on the following Sabbath, preached God's love and mercy to his flock! Will the Government ever recognise that it belongs imperatively to its duty to be careful that only capable[1 - In a disreputable gambling action which was tried at the Court of Queen's Bench in February, 1873, the Lord Chief-Justice of England, speaking of "the pernicious and fatal habit of gambling," declared "that the habit was one so demoralising and degrading that it would, like some foul leprosy, eat away the conscience, until a man comes to think that it is your duty to yourself to 'do your neighbour as your neighbour would do you!'" The defendant in this disreputable action was twenty-four years of age, and a magistrate! The case of the poor woman who was charged with committing a penny's worth of damage to a fence was tried before three magistrates, all of them clergymen. Are such men as these fit administrators of justice?] men-men with hearts as well as heads-shall sit on the magisterial benches to dispense justice? Let us hope this, also.

–

Pollypod's accident was not a very serious one; but it was discovered that she had hurt her knee, and she will never be able to walk without a limp. Sometimes when Jim Podmore looks at her as she limps along, it seems to him as if she is treading on his heart. Jim has obtained a situation in which he is enabled to earn a living by working ten hours a day. Quite hours enough to work for a decent living.

Felix and Lily are married. He is working bravely, modestly, cheerfully, and they are very happy. Old Wheels and he have many quaint conversations together, and Lily and Pollypod listen with delight to their discussions about this and that. They have but little of the world's wealth; but they are very rich notwithstanding.

THE END

notes

1

In a disreputable gambling action which was tried at the Court of Queen's Bench in February, 1873, the Lord Chief-Justice of England, speaking of "the pernicious and fatal habit of gambling," declared "that the habit was one so demoralising and degrading that it would, like some foul leprosy, eat away the conscience, until a man comes to think that it is your duty to yourself to 'do your neighbour as your neighbour would do you!'" The defendant in this disreputable action was twenty-four years of age, and a magistrate! The case of the poor woman who was charged with committing a penny's worth of damage to a fence was tried before three magistrates, all of them clergymen. Are such men as these fit administrators of justice?