mr brown was well known everywhere as a famous business man—not perhaps in that sense so familiar to modern observers, which implies the wildest flights of speculation, and such skilful arts of bookmaking as ruin themselves by their very cleverness. mr brown did not allow the grass to grow below his feet; his advertisements perpetually led off that list of advertisements in the times which convey so many skeleton romances to a curious public. all over the country people began to entertain guesses about that ph?be thomson who was to hear something so much to her own advantage; and ph?be thomsons answered to the call through all the breadth of the three kingdoms. mr brown had a detective officer in his pay for the whole year. he made journeys himself, and sent this secret agent on innumerable journeys. he discovered the regiment, a detachment of which had been stationed at the isle of man during the year 1808; he went to the island; he left no means untried of finding out this hypothetical person. nearer at home, mr brown had made short work of nancy, who, too deeply mortified by the failure of her hopes to remain in carlingford, had returned to her native place with a moderate pension, her own savings, and her mistress’s old clothes, not so badly satisfied on the whole, but still a defeated woman. while poor mrs christian, compelled by sore dint of time and trouble to give up her forlorn hope of getting justice done her, and reclaiming the wealth that had been so nearly hers from the hands of mr brown, was half reconciled to him by his summary dealings with her special enemy. a whole year had passed, and other things had happened at carlingford. everybody now did not talk of mrs thomson’s extraordinary will, and john brown’s wonderful chance of coming into twenty thousand pounds. people had even given over noting that the young doctor had thought better of that foolish fancy of his for bessie christian. all the persons in this little drama had relapsed into the shade. it was a very heavy shadow so far as grove street was concerned. the little pupils had fallen off, collected again, fallen off once more. if the cheerful glimmer of firelight had never failed in the sick-room—if the helpless old father, sitting in that calm of infirmity and age, making comments which would have irritated his careful attendants beyond bearing if they had not been used to them, never missed anything of his usual comforts—nobody knew at what cost these comforts were bought. but there did come a crisis in which patience and courage, and the steadfast soul which had carried the young bread-winner through the drear monotony of that year, failed her at last. her mother, who was of a different temper from bessie, and had gone through a thousand despairs and revivals before the young creature at her side began to droop, saw that the tune had come when everything was at stake; and, more reluctantly and slowly, bessie herself came to see it. she could not set her back against the wall of that{611} little house of theirs and meet every assailant; she could not tide it out in heroic silence, and abstinence alike from comfort and complaint. that was her natural impulse; and the victory, if slow, would have been certain: so bessie thought at least. but want was at the door, and they could not afford to wait; something else must be attempted. bessie must go out into the market-place and seek new masters—there was no longer work for her here.
this was how the scene was shifted in the following conclusive act.
john brown, travelling, and fuming and aggravating himself much over the loss of his time and the distraction of his thoughts, was in london that day—a may-day, when everybody was in london. he had seen his detective, and no further intelligence had been obtained. ph?be thomson was as far off as ever—farther off; for now that all these efforts had been made, it was clear that either she must be dead or in some quarter of the world impervious to newspaper advertisements and detective officers. mr brown bore the disappointment with a very good grace. he felt contented now to slacken his efforts; he even felt as if he himself were already the possessor of old mrs thomson’s twenty thousand pounds. as he went leisurely through the streets, he paused before one of those “scholastic agency” offices which abound in the civilised end of london. it was in the ground-floor of a great faded, sombre, house, in a street near st james’s park—a place of aching interest to some people in that palpitating world of human interests. it occurred to mr brown to go in and see if there were any lists to be looked over. ph?be thomson might have a daughter who might be a governess. it was an absurd idea enough, and he knew it to be so; nevertheless he swung open the green baize door.
inside, before the desk, stood a little figure which he knew well, still in that black dress which she had worn when she ran across grove street and wanted to speak to him; with a curl of the light hair, which looked so fair and full of colour on her black shawl, escaped from under her bonnet, talking softly and eagerly to the clerk. was there no other place he could send her to? she had come up from the country, and was so very reluctant to go down without hearing of something. the man shook his head, and read over to her several entries in his book. bessie turned round speechless towards the door. seeing some one standing there, she lifted her eyes full upon john brown. troubled and yet steady, full of tears yet clear and seeing clear, shining blue like the skies, with a great patience, these eyes encountered the unexpected familiar face. if she felt an additional pang in seeing him, or if any grudge against the supplanter of her family trembled in bessie’s heart, it made no sign upon her face. she said “good morning” cheerfully as she went past him, and only quickened her pace a little to get out of sight. she did not take any notice of the rapid step after her; the step which could have made up to her in two paces, but did not, restrained by an irresolute will. probably she knew whose step it was, and interpreted rightly, to some superficial degree, the feelings of john brown. she thought he was a good-hearted man—she thought he was sorry to know or guess the straits which bessie thanked heaven nobody in this world did fully know—she thought, by-and-by, shy of intruding upon her, that step would drop off, and she would hear it no more. but it was not so to be.
“miss christian, i want to to you,” said john brown.
she turned towards him directly without any pretence of surprise; and with a smile, the best she could muster, waited to hear what it was.
“we are both walking the same way,” said mr brown.
in spite of herself amazement woke upon bessie’s face. “that is{612} true: but was that all you had to say?” said bessie, with the smiles kindling all her dimples. the dimples had only been hidden by fatigue, and hardship, and toil. they were all there.
“no, not quite. were you looking for employment in that office? and why are you seeking employment here?” said the attorney, looking anxiously down upon her.
“because there’s a great many of us in carlingford,” said bessie, steadily; “there are half as many governesses as there are children. i thought i might perhaps get on better here.”
“in london! do you think there are fewer governesses here?” said mr brown, going on with his questions, and meanwhile studying very closely his little companion’s face; not rudely. to be sure it was a very honest direct investigation, but there was not a thought of rudeness or disrespect either in the eyes that made it or the heart.
“i daresay it’s as bad everywhere,” said bessie, with a little sigh; “but when one cannot get work in one place, one naturally turns to another. i had an appointment to-day to come up to see a lady; but i was not the proper person. perhaps i shall have to stay at home after all.”
“have you any grudge at me?” said mr brown.
bessie looked up open-eyed and wondering. “grudge? at you? how could i? i daresay,” said bessie, with a sigh and a smile, “mamma had, a year ago; but not me. the times i have spoken to you, mr brown, you have always been kind to me.”
“have i?” said the lawyer. he gave her a strange look, and stopped short, as if his utterance was somehow impeded. kind to her! he remembered that time in grove street, and could have scourged himself at the recollection. bessie had taken him entirely aback by her simple expression. he could have sobbed under that sudden touch. to see her walking beside him, cheerful, steadfast, without a complaint—a creature separated from the world, from youth and pleasure, and mere comfort even—enduring hardness, for all her soft childlike dimples and unaffected smiles—his composure was entirely overcome. he was going to do something very foolish. he gasped, and gave himself up.
“if you don’t bear me a grudge, come over into the park here, where we can hear ourselves speak. i want to speak to you,” said mr brown.
she turned into the park with him quite simply, as she did everything without any pretence of wonder or embarrassment. there he walked a long time by her side in silence, she waiting for what he had to say, he at the most overwhelming loss how to say it. the next thing he said was to ask her to sit down in a shady quiet corner, where there was an unoccupied seat. she was very much fatigued. it was too bad of him to bring her out of her way.
“but it is so noisy in the street,” said mr brown. then, with a pause after this unquestionable truism, “i’ve been thinking about you this very long time.”
bessie looked up quickly with, great amazement; thinking of her! she was wiser when she cast her eyes down again. mr brown had not the smallest conception that he had explained himself without saying a syllable, but he had, notwithstanding, leaving bessie thunder-struck, yet with a moment’s time to deliberate. while he went on with his embarrassed slow expressions, fancying that he was gradually conveying to her mind what he meant, bessie, in a dreadful silent flutter and agitation, was revolving the whole matter, and asking herself what she was to answer. she had ten full minutes for this before he came to the point, and before, according to his idea, the truth burst upon her. but it is doubtful whether that ten minutes’ preparation was any advantage to bessie. it destroyed the unconsciousness,{613} which was her greatest charm; it made an end of her straightforwardness; worst of all, it left her silent. she gave a terrified glance up at him when it actually happened. there he stood full in the light, with all his awkwardnesses more clearly revealed than usual; six-and-forty, abrupt, almost eccentric; telling that story very plainly, without compliment or passion; would she have him? he was content that she should think it over—he was content to wait for her answer; but if it was to be no, let her say it out.
strange to say, that word which she was exhorted to say out did not come to bessie’s lips. perhaps because she trembled a great deal, and really lost her self-possession, and for the moment did not know what she was about. but even in her agitation she did not think of saying it. mr brown, when he had his say out, marched up and down the path before her, and did not interrupt her deliberations. another dreadful ten minutes passed over bessie. the more she thought it over the more bewildered she became as to what she was to say.
“please would you walk with me to the railway,” were the words that came from bessie’s lips at last. she rose up trembling and faint, and with a kind of instinct took mr brown’s arm. he, on his part, did not say anything to her. his agitation melted away into a subdued silent tenderness which did not need any expression. he took her back into the streets, all along that tiresome way. he suffered the noise to surround and abstract her without any interruption which would make her conscious of his presence. it was a strange walk for both. to have called them lovers would have been absurd—to have supposed that here was a marriage of convenience about to be arranged would have been more ridiculous still. what was it? bessie went along the street in a kind of cloud, aware of nothing very clearly; feeling somehow that she leant upon somebody, and that it was somebody upon whom she had a right to lean. they reached the railway thus, without any further explanation. mr brown put the trembling girl into a carriage, and did not go with her. the carlingford attorney had turned into a paladin. was it possible that his outer man itself had smoothed out and expanded too?
“i am not going with you,” he said, grasping her hand closely. “i won’t embarrass or distress you, bessie; but recollect you have not said no; and when i come to grove street to-morrow, i’ll hope to hear you say yes. i’ll let you off,” said john brown, grasping the little soft hand so tight and hard that it hurt bessie. “i’ll let you off with liking, if you’ll give me that; at my age i don’t even venture to say for myself that i’m very much in love.”
and with that, the eyes, which had betrayed him before, flashed in bessie’s face a contradiction of her elderly lover’s words. yes! it astounded himself almost as much as it did bessie. he would still have flatly contradicted anybody who accused him of that folly; but he went away with an undeniable blush into the london streets, self-convicted. a year’s observation and an hour’s talk had resulted in a much less philosophical sentiment than mr brown was prepared for. he went back to the streets, wondering what she would like in all those wonderful shop-windows. he traced back, step for step, the road they had come together. he was not six-and-forty—six-and-twenty was the true reading. that was a may-day of his youth that had come to him, sweet if untimely; a missed may-day, perhaps all the better that it had been kept for him these many tedious years.
and though bessie cried all the way down to carlingford, the no she had not said did not occur to her as any remedy for her tears; and, indeed, when she remembered how she had taken mr brown’s arm, and felt that she had committed herself{614} by that act, the idea was rather a relief to bessie. “it was as bad as saying yes at once,” said she to herself, with many blushes. but thus, you perceive, it was done, and could not be altered. she must stand to the consequences of her weakness now.
it made a great noise in carlingford, as might be supposed; it made a vast difference in the household of mrs christian, which was removed to the house in which she had formerly hoped to establish herself as heir-at-law. but the greatest difference of all was made in that dim, spacious, wainscoted dining-room, which did not know itself in its novel circumstances. that was where the change was most remarkably apparent; and all these years ph?be thomson’s shadow has thrown no cloud as yet over the path of john brown.
the end
