Urged by Sybil's entreaties the cab-driver hurried on. With all theskilled experience of a thorough cockney charioteer he tried to conquertime and space by his rare knowledge of short cuts and fine acquaintancewith unknown thoroughfares. He seemed to avoid every street whichwas the customary passage of mankind. The houses, the population, thecostume, the manners, the language through which they whirled their way,were of a different state and nation to those with which the dwellersin the dainty quarters of this city are acquainted. Now dark streets offrippery and old stores, new market-places of entrails and carrion withgutters running gore, sometimes the way was enveloped in the yeastyfumes of a colossal brewery, and sometimes they plunged into alabyrinth of lanes teeming with life, and where the dog-stealer and thepick-pocket, the burglar and the assassin, found a sympathetic multitudeof all ages; comrades for every enterprise; and a market for everybooty.
The long summer twilight was just expiring, the pale shadows of the moonwere just stealing on the gas was beginning to glare in the shops oftripe and bacon, and the paper lanthorns to adorn the stall and thestand. They crossed a broad street which seemed the metropolis of thedistrict; it flamed with gin-palaces; a multitude were sauntering in themild though tainted air; bargaining, blaspheming, drinking, wrangling:and varying their business and their potations, their fierce strife andtheir impious irreverence, with flashes of rich humour, gleams of nativewit, and racy phrases of idiomatic slang.
Absorbed in her great mission Sybil was almost insensible to the scenesthrough which she passed, and her innocence was thus spared many a sightand sound that might have startled her vision or alarmed her ear. Theycould not now he very distant from the spot; they were crossing thisbroad way, and then were about to enter another series of small obscuredingy streets, when the cab-driver giving a flank to his steed tostimulate it to a last effort, the horse sprang forward, and the wheelof the cab came off.
Sybil extricated herself from the vehicle unhurt; a group immediatelyformed round the cab, a knot of young thieves, almost young enough forinfant schools, a dustman, a woman nearly naked and very drunk, and twounshorn ruffians with brutality stamped on every feature, with pipes intheir mouths, and their hands in their pockets.
"I can take you no further," said the cabman: "my fare is threeshillings."
"What am I to do?" said Sybil, taking out her purse.
"The best thing the young lady can do," said the dustman, in a hoarsevoice, "is to stand something to us all."
"That's your time o'day," squeaked a young thief.
"I'll drink your health with very great pleasure my dear," hiccupped thewoman.
"How much have you got there?" said the young thief making a dash at thepurse, but he was not quite tall enough, and failed.
"No wiolence," said one of the ruffians taking his pipe out of his mouthand sending a volume of smoke into Sybil's face, "we'll take the younglady to Mother Poppy's, and then we'll make a night of it."
But at this moment appeared a policeman, one of the permanent garrisonof the quarter, who seeing one of her Majesty's carriages in troublethought he must interfere. "Hilloa," he said, "what's all this?" And thecabman, who was a good fellow though in too much trouble to aid Sybil,explained in the terse and picturesque language of Cockaigne, doing fulljustice to his late fare, the whole circumstances.
"Oh! that's it," said the policeman, "the lady's respectable isshe? Then I'd advise you and Hell Fire Dick to stir your chalks,Splinter-legs. Keep moving's the time of day, Madam; you get on. Come;"and taking the woman by her shoulder he gave her a spin that sent hermany a good yard. "And what do you want?" he asked gruffly of the lads.
"We wants a ticket for the Mendicity Society," said the captain of theinfant hand putting his thumb to his nose and running away, followed byhis troop.
"And so you want to go to Silver Street?" said her official preserver toSybil, for she had not thought it wise to confess her ultimate purpose,and indicate under the apprehended circumstances the place of rendezvousto a member of the police.
"Well; that's not very difficult now. Go a-head; take the second turningto your right, and the third to your left, and you're landed."
Aided by these instructions, Sybil hastened on, avoiding notice as muchas was in her power, and assisted in some degree by the advancing gloomof night. She had reached Silver Street; a long, narrow, hilly Street;and now she was at fault. There were not many persons about, and therewere few shops here; yet one was at last at hand, and she enteredto enquire her way. The person at the counter was engaged, and manycustomers awaited him: time was very precious: Sybil had made theenquiry and received only a supercilious stare from the shopman, who wasweighing with precision some article that he was serving. A young man,shabby, but of a very superior appearance to the people of this quarter,good-looking, though with a dissolute air, and who seemed waiting for acustomer in attendance, addressed Sybil. "I am going to Hunt Street," hesaid, "shall I show you the way?"
She accepted this offer most thankfully. "It is close at hand, Ibelieve?"
"Here it is," he said; and he turned down a street. "What is yourhouse?"
"No. 22: a printing-office." said Sybil; for the street she had enteredwas so dark she despaired of finding her way, and ventured to trust sofar a guide who was not a policeman.
"The very house I am going to," said the stranger: "I am a printer." Andthey walked on some way, until they at length stopped before a glassand illumined door, covered with a red curtain. Before it was a groupof several men and women brawling, but who did not notice Sybil and hercompanion.
"Here we are," said the man; and he pushed the door open, inviting Sybilto enter. She hesitated; it did not agree with the description thathad been given her by the coffee-house keeper, but she had seen so muchsince, and felt so much, and gone through so much, that she had not atthe moment that clear command of her memory for which she was otherwiseremarkable; but while she faltered, an inner door was violently thrownopen, and Sybil moving aside, two girls, still beautiful in spite of ginand paint, stepped into the Street.
"This cannot be the house," exclaimed Sybil starting back, overwhelmedwith shame and terror. "O! holy Virgin aid me!"
"And that's a blessed word to hear in this heathen land," exclaimed anIrishman, who was one of the group on the outside.
"If you be of our holy church," said Sybil appealing to the man whohad thus spoken and whom she gently drew aside, "I beseech you, byeverything we hold sacred, to aid me."
"And will I not?" said the man; "and I should like to see the arm thatwould hurt you;" and he looked round, but the young man had disappeared."You are not a countrywoman I am thinking," he added.
"No, but a sister in Christ," said Sybil; "listen to me, good friend.I hasten to my father,--he is in great danger,--in Hunt Street,--Iknow not my way,--every moment is precious,--guide me, I beseechyou,--honestly and truly guide me!"
"Will I not? Don't you be afraid my dear. And her poor father is ill! Iwish I had such a daughter! We have not far to go. You should have takenthe next turning. We must walk up this again for 'tis a small streetwith no thoroughfare. Come on without fear."
Nor did Sybil fear; for the description of the street which the honestman had incidentally given, tallied with her instructions. Encouragingher with many kind words, and full of rough courtesies, the goodIrishman led her to the spot she had so long sought. There was the courtshe was told to enter. It was well lit, and descending the steps shestopped at the first door on her left, and knocked.
Book 5 Chapter 7