CHAPTER XXII.
The object of civilization being always to settle people one way or
the other, the Mayor of Gatesboro' entertains a statesmanlike
ambition to settle Gentleman Waife; no doubt a wise conception, and
in accordance with the genius of the Nation. Every session of
Parliament England is employed in settling folks, whether at home or
at the Antipodes, who ignorantly object to be settled in her way; in
short, "I'll settle them," has become a vulgar idiom, tantamount to
a threat of uttermost extermination or smash; therefore the Mayor of
Gatesboro' harbouring that benignant idea with reference to
"Gentleman Waife," all kindly readers will exclaim, "Dii meliora!
What will he do with it?"
The doll once more safe behind the pillow, Sophy's face gradually
softened; she bent forward, touched the Mayor's hand timidly, and looked
at him with pleading, penitent eyes, still wet with tears,--eyes that
said, though the lips were silent, "I'll not hate you. I was ungrateful
and peevish; may I beg pardon?"
"I forgive you with all my heart," cried the Mayor, interpreting the look
aright. "And now try and compose yourself and sleep while I talk with
your grandpapa below."
"I don't see how it is possible that I can leave her," said Waife, when
the two men had adjourned to the sitting-room. "I am sure," quoth the
Mayor, seriously, "that it is the best thing for her: her pulse has much
nervous excitability; she wants a complete rest; she ought not to move
about with you on any account. But come: though I must not know, it
seems, who and what you are, Mr. Chapman, I don't think you will run off
with my cow; and if you like to stay at the bailiff's cottage for a week
or two with your grandchild, you shall be left in peace, and asked no
questions. I will own to you a weakness of mine: I value myself on being
seldom or never taken in. I don't think I could forgive the man who did
take me in. But taken in I certainly shall be, if, despite all your
mystery, you are not as honest a fellow as ever stood upon shoe-leather!
So come to the cottage."
Waife was very much affected by this confiding kindness; but he shook his
head despondently, and that same abject, almost cringing humility of mien
and manner which had pained at times Lionel and Vance crept over the
whole man, so that he seemed to cower and shrink as a Pariah before a
Brahmin. "No, sir; thank you most humbly. No, sir; that must not be.
I must work for my daily bread; if what a poor vagabond like me may do
can be called work. I have made it a rule for years not to force myself
to the hearth and home of any kind man, who, not knowing my past, has a
right to suspect me. Where I lodge, I pay as a lodger; or whatever
favour shown me spares my purse, I try to return in some useful humble
way. Why, sir, how could I make free and easy with another man's board
and roof-tree for days or weeks together, when I would not even come to
your hearthstone for a cup of tea?" The Mayor remembered, and was
startled. Waife hurried on. "But for my poor child I have no such
scruples,--no shame, no false pride. I take what you offer her
gratefully,--gratefully. Ah, sir, she is not in her right place with me;
but there's no use kicking against the pricks. Where was I? Oh! well,
I tell you what we will do, sir. I will take her to the cottage in a day
or two,--as soon as she is well enough to go,--and spend the day with
her, and deceive her, sir! yes, deceive, cheat her, sir! I am a cheat,
a player, and she'll think I'm going to stay with her; and at night, when
she's asleep, I'll creep off, I and the other dog. But I'll leave a
letter for her: it will soothe her, and she'll be patient and wait. I
will come back again to see her in a week, and once every week, till
she's well again."
"And what will you do?"
"I don't know; but," said the actor, forcing a laugh, "I 'm not a man
likely to starve. Oh, never fear, sir."
So the Mayor went away, and strolled across the fields to his bailiff's
cottage, to prepare for the guest it would receive. "It is all very well
that the poor man should be away for some days," thought Mr. Hartopp.
"Before he comes again, I shall have hit on some plan to serve him; and I
can learn more about him from the child in his absence, and see what he
is really fit for. There's a schoolmaster wanted in Morley's village.
Old Morley wrote to me to recommend him one. Good salary,--pretty house.
But it would be wrong to set over young children--recommend to a
respectable proprietor and his parson--a man whom I know nothing about.
Impossible! that will not do. If there was any place of light service
which did not require trust or responsibility,--but there is no such
place in Great Britain. Suppose I were to set him up in some easy way of
business,--a little shop, eh? I don't know. What would Williams say?
If, indeed, I were taken in! if the man I am thus credulously trusting
turned out a rogue,"--the Mayor paused and actually shivered at that
thought,--"why then, I should be fallen indeed. My wife would not let me
have half-a-crown in my pockets; and I could, not walk a hundred yards
but Williams would be at my heels to protect me from being stolen by
gypsies. Taken in by him! No, impossible! But if it turn out as I
suspect,--that, contrary to vulgar prudence, I am divining a really great
and good man in difficulties, aha, what a triumph I shall then gain over
them all! How Williams will revere me!" The good man laughed aloud at
that thought, and walked on with a prouder step.
