A Girl in Ten Thousand

  CHAPTER XXI.

  Effie did all in her power to soothe her mother. It was past the hourfor her return to St. Joseph's, but under the present circumstances shecould not give this matter a thought. Mrs. Staunton was strung up to aterrible condition of nervousness. She walked faster and faster aboutthe room; she scarcely spoke aloud, but muttered words under her breathwhich no one could hear. At every footfall on the stairs she started.Sometimes she went to the door and flung it open--sometimes she went tothe window and pressed her face against the glass. Darkness set in, andthe lamps were lit in the street. Katie went to the window to pull downthe blinds.

  "No, don't touch them," said Mrs. Staunton fretfully--she still keptstaring out into the street. Presently she called Effie to her.

  "Doesn't that man turning the corner look something like George?" sheexclaimed.

  Effie looked eagerly.

  "No, that's not George," she said.

  "Agnes, you have better sight," called Mrs. Staunton to her nextdaughter; "come and watch with me--we are sure to see him soon. It can'tbe that he has gone away for the night--for the whole night. Isn't thathim? Look at that man,--that one crossing the road--that one in thewaterproof. Oh, how hard it is raining! If George is out much longer,he'll be drenched to the skin. Aggie, look; and you, Katie, can't youwatch? Now, _that_ man, isn't that George?"

  "No, no, mother!" answered the poor children, in affright.

  Mrs. Staunton kept on making exclamations. Again and again she cried outhopefully that surely George was coming now; but George himself neverreally appeared. Effie knew that she would get into hopeless disgrace atSt. Joseph's. No matter! she could not leave her mother at such amoment. Each instant she became more anxious about her. She called Agnesaside, and told her that she had put a stop to the late dinner, and alsoto the extra attendance, but as probably some dinner had been orderedfor that evening, she had better go down and bring it up, as Mrs.Staunton must be forced to eat at any cost.

  Agnes tripped out of the room, and presently returned with a couple ofpork chops and some baked potatoes. She flung them down on the table,exclaiming that the tray was heavy. She looked cross, and evidentlyseemed to think that Effie was making a great fuss over nothing.

  "Why can't George be away for a single night without everyone gettinginto such a state?" she murmured.

  Effie took the tray from her and gave her a look of reproach. She laidthe cloth herself, and made the table look as pretty as she could. Shethen went to her mother, drew her gently but firmly away from thewindow, and, making her sit down, tried to coax her to eat.

  Mrs. Staunton looked at the chops with dazed eyes.

  "Those were for George," she exclaimed. "What a shame to bring them upbefore he has come into the house! They'll be cold and sodden, and hehates his food sodden. You don't suppose I'm going to touch my boy'sdinner? No, not I! Put the chops down in the fender, Aggie. When Georgecomes in, I always ring the bell twice. How careless of Mrs. Robinson!Effie, my dear, I don't think we can stop with her if she treats us inthis fashion. It's perfectly disgraceful to cook George's food before heis ready for it."

  Agnes began to explain that George was not coming home, but Effiesilenced her with a look. She saw, to her horror, that her mother's mindwas beginning to wander. She was really expecting George--who had notthe faintest idea of coming back. Poor Effie saw there was nothing forit but to humor her mother. She put the food inside the fender, andthen, going to a davenport in a corner of the room, wrote a hasty letterto Dorothy Fraser.

  "We're in great trouble," she wrote. "I know you can't come. I know itis absolutely impossible for you to come, but neither can I go back toSt. Joseph's this evening. Please tell Sister Kate, make any excuse forme you like--say anything that comes into your head. My career as anurse is ended."

  A big tear dropped from Effie's eyes as she wrote these last words. Shefolded up the letter and gave it to Agnes.

  "Agnes," she said, "you must take this at once to St. Joseph'sHospital."

  "Oh, I don't know how to get there," said Agnes, "and I was never out solate before in the evening."

  "I am sorry to have to send you--stay, you had better take Kate withyou. It would be better for the two of you to be together. Put on yourhats and your warm jackets; don't be longer away than you can help--youhave just to give this note to the hall porter and come straight back.You must take the red omnibus that goes along Oxford Street, and----"

  Effie added a few more practical directions. Agnes' eyes sparkled at thethought of a little variety in her dull life. Katie ran willingly intoher room to fetch her own and her sister's hats and jacket's. They weredressed in a very short time. Effie heard them running downstairs, andlistened to the slam of the hall door. She had now set the irrevocableseal to her own act. She had deliberately turned her back on the lifethat she loved. She stood for a moment with a dizzy feeling in herhead; then, with a little prayer which she sadly needed, to help her,she put aside all regret, and turned with a brave heart to face the darkpresent and the gloomy future.

  Mrs. Staunton stood near the window, with her back to her daughter.Effie listened with a sick heart to her mutterings. She knew that hermother could not possibly get better if she refused to eat.

  She was wondering what to do, and how she could dare to leave her, whena quick step was heard running up the stairs, and the next moment FredLawson came in.

  Effie never to her dying day forgot the feeling of relief, of almostjoy, which ran through her heart when she saw his clever, resolute face.He came in, in his usual quick, brisk, determined way--stopped short alittle when he saw her, and then glanced significantly at her mother.

  Mrs. Staunton had turned as eagerly as Effie when she heard the quickfootsteps. Now her face was an absolute blank--she had come a stepforward,--her hands suddenly fell to her sides.

  "My mother is not well," said Effie. "She's upset."

  "No, I'm not upset; you're greatly mistaken," said Mrs. Staunton. "Whyshould I be upset? There's not a happier woman in Christendom than I am.It's true my beloved husband has left me, but then I have got myboy--there never was a braver boy. How do you do, Mr. Lawson? Prayforgive me for not shaking hands with you when you came into theroom--the fact is, I have been expecting George. His dinner is in thefender. The landlady did very wrong indeed to send it up before I rangfor it. I always ring twice for George's dinner, don't you understand?It is a good plan. George likes his meals hot and tasty. No wonder--heearns them; he is a dear, good, _clever_ fellow--he is getting a finesalary. Did you happen to meet him on the stairs? Perhaps you passedhim--he is a little late, just a little late. Effie, can you tell me ifMr. Lawson has good sight? If he has, perhaps he'll come and watch bythe window. I'm watching, but my eyes are a little weak at times. Imight not see George when he is really there. Will you come and see, Mr.Lawson? He ought to be coming now, my dear boy,--my dearest,--my boy!"

  Lawson gave Effie a glance. In a moment he read the true position. Thepoor weak brain had suddenly given way. He went up gently to Mrs.Staunton, and took one of her hot hands in his.

  "When George comes in," he said, "I'll be here, and I'll tell him abouthis dinner. I know he'll be late to-night, and you mustn't wait up forhim any longer. Come, Miss Effie will put you into bed. When you are inbed I'll give you something to make you sleep. Come now, don't delay;you're quite worn out. If you don't go to bed you'll be ill, and thenyou'll be of no use to your son."

  "Do you really think so?" said Mrs. Staunton. "Yes, I mustn't be ill;George doesn't like it--it quite frets him. He is not like his dearfather. He wants a cheerful home--no wonder, he is young, dear lad, heis young. Yes, I'll go to bed, and then I'll be all right in themorning. Come, Effie, help your mother to bed."

  Effie took the poor woman out of the room. They went into the littlebedroom. She helped her mother to undress. When she saw her lay her headon the pillow, she went back to the sitting room, where Lawson wasquietly standing.

  "I happened most fortunately," he said, the mom
ent he saw her, "to havesome packets of bromide in my pocket. There is sal-volatile in the room.I have made up a rather strong composing-draught for your mother. If shetakes it, she will sleep peacefully and will not be likely to wake untilthe morning. Give it to her at once, and then come back to me--I havesomething to tell you."

  Effie's trembling knees could scarcely support her as she went back tothe next room.

  "Has George come yet?" asked the mother.

  "Not yet, mother; won't you take this medicine, please?"

  "Yes, my love, yes. Effie, you are a very good girl--a great comfort tome, my darling. I'm glad you never went to the hospital; it was a mad,foolish scheme, and George never liked it. You are a great comfort tome, and a great comfort to your dear brother. You'll be sure to give himhis dinner comfortably when he comes back, Effie?"

  "Yes, mother, yes. Now do go to sleep, dear mother."

  Mrs. Staunton drank off the medicine, laid her head on her pillow, andclosed her dim, dark eyes. Effie watched by her until she thought shewas dropping asleep. Pretty little Marjory was lying sound asleep in thesame bed. Phil opened his big eyes as his sister passed.

  "Is anything the matter?" he whispered. "Is anything wrong with George?"

  "Pray for him, Phil," said Effie, tears suddenly filling her eves.

  "Yes, yes," said the little fellow. "I always do."

  Effie went into the next room.

  "You have plenty of pluck, haven't you?" said Lawson, when he saw her.

  "I hope so--I had need to have."

  "Yes, I know that. Well, that unfortunate boy has put his foot in it atlast,--he is in trouble,--detectives are after him."

  "Detectives after George!" exclaimed Effie. "What can you possibly mean?Oh, do tell me at once--don't leave me in suspense."

  "Sit down and I will tell you. Try not to agitate yourself, try tolisten to me quietly. Remember that a brave woman can always control hernerves."

  Effie sat down when Lawson bade her. Something in his quiet but resolutevoice soothed her impatience; she looked up at him as he stood by themantelpiece, resting one arm on it.

  "The facts are these," he began at once; "Staunton has been going wrongfor a long time----"

  "I know it--I know it well," interrupted Effie.

  "Yes, I feared that you knew it. Poor fellow, soon after his arrival inLondon he got with bad companions. He has naturally extravaganttastes--they introduced him to some of those gambling saloons. Given aweak nature, the love of money for the pleasure it can give, a willweakened with self-indulgence, and the result is easy to forecast.George has been going from bad to worse for months past. He hassometimes won considerable sums of money, and these successes haveexcited him to try again--with this devil's luck, as the saying is. Oflate, however, that luck has turned against him, and the events whichtook place to-day are only the natural consequences."

  Effie rose slowly from her seat.

  "Go on," she said, coming up to Lawson. "What took place to-day? Go on,please,--I am quiet,--I am prepared for anything."

  Lawson gave her a look of admiration.

  "You are a brave girl," he said briefly. "The world would be a betterplace if there were more like you in it. Well, what took place is this.Staunton won heavily at cards the night before last. Not content withhis gains, however, he persevered until the luck turned against him.Before he left the gambling saloon he had lost all his gains, and was indebt fifty pounds. To meet that debt he drew your mother's money fromthe bank yesterday morning."

  "I know," said Effie, with white lips--"mother told me. She sent Agnesto the bank to cash a small check. Agnes was told that George's accountwas overdrawn. Yes, I know that. Is there more behind? Surely that mustbe the worst."

  "Alas! I wish it were. This morning the poor fellow, while engaged inhis duties at Gering's office, met with the temptation for which he wasso ripe. It was a horrible one. He knew that your mother had not apenny. His feeling for her I need not enter upon. He found himself inthe room with an open till, and took fifty pounds out of it. Soonafterwards, he made an excuse to leave the office. He wandered about allday in an indescribable state of misery. At last he summoned courage togo to the bank and deposit forty-five of the fifty pounds. He thenrushed home, and, packing his things, prepared to run away. He said hewas certain to be taken if he stayed, and simply could not bring himselfto face the risk. He went to Waterloo, and to his horror discovered thathe was watched. A man, undoubtedly a detective in plain clothes, wasfollowing him from place to place. The man watched him take his ticketfor Southampton, and noticed the corner in which he deposited his bag ina third-class carriage. George seemed to lose his head at this crisis.He managed to elude the detective, slipped out of the station, took ahansom and drove straight to my rooms. Luckily I was at home. He made aclean breast of everything to me. He is in my rooms now, and safe forthe time being, for no one will think of looking for him there. I wantyou to come with me at once to see him, for there is not a moment to belost in deciding what is best to be done."

  "Yes," said Effie, "I will come."

  She felt stunned--her keenest feelings of anguish were lulled intomomentary quiet by the greatness of this blow.

  "I will write a note to Agnes," she said; "she is out--I had to send herto the hospital to say that I could not return there to-night." Then sheadded, her face turning whiter than ever, "If my mother knows of this,it will kill her."

  "Your mother is the person to be considered, of course," said Lawson."But for her, I should say that the best thing possible for George wouldbe to undergo the punishment which he merits. As it is, however, mattersare different. Well, write your note, and let us be quick. That strongopiate will keep your mother sleeping quietly until the morning. Allyour sister has to do is to watch her."

  Effie drew a sheet of paper toward her, scribbled a few hasty lines onit, folded it up, and left it where Agnes could see it the moment shereturned; then she followed Lawson into the street.

  He hailed a passing hansom, and they drove straight to his rooms on theEmbankment.

  The feeling of a dream remained with Effie all during that drive; shekept rubbing her eyes and saying to herself, "It's only a dream--I shallawaken presently and find myself back at St. Joseph's."

  The hansom drew up at the lodgings, and Lawson preceded Effie upstairs.He threw open the door of his little sitting room.

  "Come in," he said. "Here is your sister, Staunton," he sang out.

  Effie entered. She found herself in a small bright room. The gas wasturned full on; one of the windows was open--a fresh breeze from theriver came in. George was seated on a horse-hair sofa at the farthestend of the room. He held a small walking-stick in his hand, and wasmaking imaginary patterns with it on the carpet. His shoulders werehitched up to his ears, his eyes were fixed on the ground. Effie lookedat him. She said:

  "George, I am here--I have come."

  He did not make any response. She gave a little cry when he took nonotice of her, and sank down helplessly on the nearest chair.

  Lawson strode across the room and grasped George's shoulder.

  "Look here, Staunton," he said; "you have got to pull yourself together.I have brought your sister here to consult what is best to be done. Lookup, old chap! Take courage--all isn't lost yet. Now try and tell yoursister everything."

  "I have nothing to tell her," said George--he raised two lackluster eyesand fixed them with a sort of dull stare on Lawson's face.

  "Don't talk folly--you have to tell her what you told me. You know theposition you are in--you may be arrested at any moment. No one can helpyou but your sister; don't turn away from her."

  "Oh, I understand all that," said George, shrugging his shoulder out ofLawson's grip. "I know well enough what has happened--I have gone under.I'm only one more. I--I can't help it--I have nothing to say."

  Lawson looked at the big fellow almost in despair. He was really puzzledwhat to do. This was the moment, however, for Effie to take theinitiative. She sprang suddenly to h
er feet, dashed the tears from hereyes, and went up to her brother. She fell on her knees by his side, andput her soft arms round his neck.

  "Think of the old days, Geordie," she said, "when we were both littlechildren. Think of mother and father, and the little old house, and theapple tree in the garden. Don't you remember the day when that ripe redapple fell, and we ate it bite about?"

  When Effie began to speak, George trembled. He avoided her eyes for amoment longer, then he gave her a quick, furtive glance.

  changed voice. "Before God, I couldn't help it."a changed voice. "Before God, I couldn't help it."[Transcriber's note: These two fragmented lines appear, as shown,at this point in the original text.]

  Lawson stepped softly out of the room.

  The moment he had done so, George said eagerly:

  "He has told you, hasn't he?"

  Effie nodded.

  "Then I needn't go over it. Let's talk of something else. How ismother?"

  "She is very ill indeed--she watched for you all the evening."

  "Watched for me? But I told her I shouldn't be back to-night."

  "Yes; but she didn't believe you, or she forgot it--anyhow, she watchedfor you, and when you didn't come, her mind began suddenly to wander;she is in bed now--she is very, very ill."

  "Go on," said George; "hammer it in hard--I deserve it all."

  "Oh, George, why will you talk like that? Don't you believe in my lovefor you?"

  "I believe in mother's love. It's the only thing I have left to clingto. I believe she'd go on loving me even after this--I do truly."

  "Of course she would--nothing could turn her love from you. Now, won'tyou let us consult together when Mr. Lawson comes into the room?"

  "There's nothing to be done--nothing; I'm perfectly safe to be committedfor trial, and then I shall get at least two years. Mother will die. AndI shall have gone under forever."

  "Nonsense! I have a thought in my head."

  "You?" George spoke with almost contempt. "You always thought a greatdeal of yourself, Effie, but even you can't pull the ropes on thepresent occasion. I'm a thief, and I must suffer the penalty. That's thelong and short of it."

  Effie rose suddenly and walked to the door. She called Lawson--he camein at once.

  "I think George will talk over matters now," she said. "But before webegin any discussion, I wish to say what I have made up my mind to do. Idon't know Mr. Gering, but that does not matter. I mean to go to see himthe first thing to-morrow morning, and beg of him not to prosecuteGeorge. That is the only chance for mother's life, and I mean to tryit."