andharness-maker's, but a dingy depot for vending potatoes, cabbages, andcoals!
I thought a great change must suddenly have taken place in the wholecity of Dublin.
It did not occur to me, that six years was a sufficient period of timefor turning a saddler's shop into a greengrocer's--without any reasonfor being surprised at the transformation.
I stepped inside; and inquired of a stout, red-haired woman thewhereabouts of a Mrs Stone, who formerly occupied the premises. Thewoman had never heard of such a person!
It suddenly occurred to me--and I heaved a sigh at the recollection--that my mother's name was not _Stone_, but that she was _Mrs Leary_.
I renewed my inquiry, substituting the latter name.
"Mistress Leary?" said the vulgar-looking hag before me, "lift here fiveyear ago."
The vendor of cabbages did not know where Mrs Leary had gone. Neitherdid I; and this knowledge, or rather absence of knowledge, producedwithin me a train of reflections that were new and peculiar.
I turned out of the house, and walked mechanically up the street. Afamiliar name met my half-vacant gaze. It was painted on a sign, overthe door of a cheese-monger's shop--Michael Brady.
I remembered that Mrs Brady, the wife of the man whose name I saw, wasthe intimate acquaintance and friend of my mother. Perhaps, I mightlearn something from her; but what, I almost feared to ascertain.
I went into the shop, and found Mrs Brady seated among her cheeses.She did not look a day older than when I last saw her. When asked, ifshe remembered ever having seen me before, she gazed at me for sometime, and made answer in the negative.
I was not astonished at her reply. I could easily understand herstupidity; my appearance must have greatly altered since she had seen melast.
"Do you remember the name of Rowland Stone?" I asked.
"What! the little Rolling Stone?" she exclaimed, gazing at me again. "Ido believe you are," said she, "Now when I look at you, I can see it is.How you have changed!"
"What has become of my mother?" I cried out, too impatient to listenlonger to her exclamatory reflections.
"Poor woman!" answered Mrs Brady, "that's what I have wished to knowfor many years."
I was called upon to exercise the virtue of patience--while trying toobtain from Mrs Brady what information she could give concerning myfamily. With much time spent and many questions put, I obtained fromher the following particulars:
After my departure, Mr Leary became very dissipated, and used to getdrunk every day. Whenever he sold anything out of the shop, he would goto a public-house, and stay there until the money obtained for thearticle was spent. He would then return, abuse my mother, beat thechildren, take something else out of the shop; and pawn it for moremoney to spend in drink or dissipation. This game he had continued,until there was nothing left in the establishment that Mr Leary couldsell for a shilling.
The neighbours remonstrated with my mother for allowing him to proceedin this manner; but the deluded woman seemed to think that everythingdone by her husband was right; and was even offended with her friendsfor interfering. No arguments could persuade her that Mr Leary wasconducting himself in an improper manner. She appeared to think thatthe drunken blackguard was one of the best men that ever lived; and thatshe had been exceedingly fortunate in obtaining him for a husband!
When Mr Leary had disposed of everything in the shop, and had spent theproceeds in drink, he absconded--leaving my mother, brother and sisterto suffer for the necessaries of life.
Instead of being gratified at getting clear of the scoundrel, my motherwas nearly heart-broken to think he had deserted her!
Her first thought was to find out where he had gone. He had served hisapprenticeship in Liverpool; and my mother had reasons to believe thathe had betaken himself thither. The house in which she resided, hadbeen leased by my father for a long term. At the time Mr Learydeserted her, the lease had several years to run. Since the time whenit had been taken, rents in the neighbourhood had greatly risen invalue; and my mother was able to sell the lease for ninety pounds.Obtaining this sum in cash, she left Dublin with her children; andproceeded to Liverpool to find Mr Leary, as Mrs Brady said, that shemight give him the money to spend in drink!
My mother's friends had advised her to remain in Dublin; and told herthat she should be thankful her husband had deserted her; but theiradvice was either unheeded, or scornfully rejected. In spite of allremonstrance, she took her departure for Liverpool; and Mrs Brady hadnever heard of her again.
I was intensely interested in what was told me by Mrs Brady. Forawhile, I believed that my poor beguiled parent deserved her fate,however bad it may have been; and I was half inclined to search for herno more. But when I came to reflect that nearly five years had elapsedsince she left Dublin, I fancied that, if unfortunately successful infinding Mr Leary, she might by this time have recovered from herstrange infatuation concerning him. Though for her folly, she deservedalmost any fate Mr Leary might bring upon her, I believed it to be myduty to see her once more. Besides, I had a strong desire to renew therudely broken links of affection, that had existed between myself and mysister and brother.
When a boy, I was very proud of having a sister like little Martha, shewas so kind, affectionate, and beautiful. And William, too, Iremembered him with a brother's fondness. Although my mother had actedever so foolishly, it was not the less my duty to look after her.Perhaps, for her unaccountable delusion, she had been by this timesufficiently punished. It was my desire to find her, if possible, andlearn if such was the case. She was my mother, and I had no other wishthan to act towards her as a son. I determined, therefore, to proceedto Liverpool.
I may confess that something more than duty summoned me thither--something even stronger than filial affection. It was the design ofvisiting Mrs Hyland--or, rather her daughter. I knew there would bedanger to my happiness in again seeing Lenore; and I strove tostrengthen my resolution by the belief that I was acting under a call ofduty.
I had been with Captain Hyland when he died. I alone saw his eyesclosed in death, and alone followed him to the grave. Why should I notvisit his wife and child?
I could fancy that that pressure of the hand given me by the Captain inhis dying struggle, was a silent command to me--to carry to them hislast blessing.
Besides, Mrs Hyland had been very kind to myself; and during my sojournin Liverpool, had made her home to me both welcome and pleasant. Whyshould I refrain from seeing her again--simply because her daughter wasbeautiful? I could think of no sufficient reason for denying myself thepleasure. The dread of its leading to pain was not enough to deter me;and I resolved to renew my acquaintance with Lenore.
Before leaving Dublin, I tried to get some information that would aid mein my search after Mr Leary and my relatives; but was unsuccessful.None of Mr Leary's former acquaintances could give me any intelligenceas to what part of the city of Liverpool he might be found in. I couldonly learn that my mother, before leaving, had some knowledge to guideher, which had probably been obtained, sometime or other, from Mr Learyhimself.
In my search, therefore, I should have no other traces than such aschance might throw in my way.
Volume One, Chapter X.
A CHILLING RECEPTION.
I do not like Liverpool as a city; and less do I admire a majority ofits citizens. Too many of them are striving to live on what they canobtain from transient sojourners. Being the greatest shipping port inthe United Kingdom--and that from which most emigrants take theirdeparture--it affords its inhabitants too easy opportunities forexercising their skill--in obtaining the greatest amount of money forthe least amount of service--opportunities of which many of them are notslow to avail themselves.
My dislike to the people of Liverpool may perhaps, arise from the factthat I claim to be a sailor; and that thousands of people in that greatseaport--from beggars, thieves, and the like who crowd its crooked,narrow, dirty streets in search of a living, up to merchants, agents,and ship-own
ers--imagine that there is no harm in taking advantage of asailor, and, under this belief, seldom lose an opportunity of doing so.
The first thing I did after arriving in this precious seaport, was topossess myself of a city directory, and make a list of all the saddleand harness-makers in the place--putting down the address of eachopposite his name.
I then wrote a note to each of them--requesting, that if they knewanything of a journeyman saddler named Matthew Leary, they would havethe goodness to communicate with me; if not, no answer to my note wouldbe required.
Having completed this interesting correspondence--which occupied me thewhole of a day--I repaired to the residence of Mrs Hyland. There hadbeen no change there. I found her still living in the same house, whereyears before, I had parted with her and her daughter.
I was conducted into the drawing-room; and the next instant one of themost beautiful creatures man ever beheld, stood before me.
Lenore was beautiful when a child;