John Halifax, Gentleman

arly and sudd

stirred from my room, and never saw anybody but my father, Dr. Jessop, and Jael. At last

thee want t

to see

any for thee. Let him alone; he'll do well enough

fraid of doing him harm, and feeling how much his future depended on his favour with his master, I did not discuss the matter. Only at every possible opportunity-and they were rar

sure to see him. I knew enough of himself, and was too jealous over his dignity, to wish either to force him by entrea

thought I would just put my head out of doors, to see how long the blessed spring would be in coming. So I crawled down into the parlour, and out of the parlour into the garden;

s; delicious to walk up and down in the sunshine, under the shelter of the yew hedge. I amused myself by

atkins, who, taken after the battle of Mentz, last December, had been shot by the French as a

, to Jael, who was cutting winter cabbages

little 'uns yet to feed, to say nought of another big lad

ly. This, together with a few other facts which lay between Sally and me, made me quite easy in the mind as to h

wdrops are-stop, Jael, you a

igh-heeled shoe. She was even near pulling me down,

wn the garden; and here I be in my dirt

es all over the path as the

formation, I, at least, had no diff

. They fitted well his figure, which had increased both in height, compactness, and grace. Round his neck was a coarse but white shirt frill; and over it fell

though, when she found ou

business here?" s

er sent me o

th Phineas here. Thee bean't company f

ly. John never spoke, but

w glad I was to see him-but, for

-controlled voice, "that I might go out with Phineas

I think he must hav

ped half of her cabbages. John picked them up and res

d be back again sharp; and, I say, don't thee be leav

he cart now," wa

y, when Jael had disappeared, for I w

books, you know; and your father found it out, and he says I shall go round collectin

ce beamed with pride and pleasure. I

d I, at last, knowing how exceedingly pa

ood to me, Phineas, and he gave me a special holid

e'll have! I almost think

life, and strength, and hope. The very sigh

were fairly off, and he was guiding

he outskirts of the town, breezy and fresh, where Squire

ht, isn't it? The river is rising still, I hear; at the tan-yard they are bu

. But don't look so seriou

to pause on the bridge at the other end of the town, and feel the breeze brought in by the rising

te foam it makes, and what wreaths of spray; and see! ever so

e looking at a

his whole heart. My heart le

or a week. Every morning the water seems to have made itself a fresh

ton Bury are u

ever ver

. Now, John, tell me what you

from the Monday to the Saturday-too hard work to do anything of nigh

ach yourself to rea

lot of odd minutes one can catch during the day, if one really sets abou

vely. "What books ha

on Crusoe, and the Arabian Nights. That'

y m

me at Christmas. I ha

iked to hear him own, nor be ashamed to own-that he read "

more questions; indeed, it seemed to me,

ead quite easi

e: "You read a great deal, don't you? I overheard your

him. The list was short enough; I almost wi

st read, and I shall

spondency, even despair

pon that which guided me on so steady and so strong; "

to learn; I

an teach; but, if you like,

ed hastily across the road. Thence he came back, in a minute or

p till I've cut off the thorns." And he walked on

always guess at his thoughts by that mouth, so flexible, sensitive, and, at times, so inf

vid;" and now he had read a certain history in that Book I supposed he had guess

stile I'll carry you. It's lovely on the top of the Mythe-look

ld with me-he who brought into my pale li

us slope, ran the Severn, there broad and deep enough, gradually growing broader and deeper as it flowed on, through a wide plain of level country, towards the line of hills that bounded the horizon. Severn looked beautiful here; neither

e Severn st

ove

thoughts had been

I had not often seen on our river. It was a mass of water, three or fo

eaward current meets the spring-tide. Look what a crest of foam

s only a

to swamp a b

there actually was a boat, with two men in i

hey'll assuredly b

nd swung himself by furze-bushes and gras

o a whirl of conflicting currents, in which no boat could live-least of all that light pleasure-boat, with i

m, but not close enough to land; and already there

ry to the other: but swimmin

e top of his voice; "throw that

nger tried desperately to save his boat, but it was too late. Already the "water-boar" had clutched it-the rope broke like a gossamer

over with her

and sickly-looking gentleman, dressed in mourning, to whom life did not se

the, without noticing John Ha

ashore? Was it yo

his soaked boots, ans

we owe

Brithwood, gruffly; "I know him, Cousin March

he boy with a kindly, even half-sad air. "Impossible! Y

is John

t WHAT a

ood knows me well enough:

n of dignity, though evidently both surprise

nd changed your coat for the better: but you're certainly the same lad that my cu

e youth's insolent laughter broke out again

-what's-your-name, so here's a guinea for you." He thre

onflicting intentions, and not very easy in his mind. "My good fellow," he said at last, in a constrained voice, "I won't forg

merely saying "that he woul

e and resistance on the other; and then Mr. March put the guineas irresolutely back into his

ld are

en, ne

way, and turned back again. "My name is

u, sir. G

r would not, see it. Mr. March walked on, following young Brithwood; but at t

laughed at me for being so afraid he would take cold, and so angry at young Brithwood's insults. I sat w

nd me the stick and I'll give

f the alphabet and join them together. He learned them very quickly-so quickly, that in a little while t

rishing his gigantic pen, which had done such goo

ing it. The current was harmless enough, merely flooding a part of the Ham; but it awed us to see the fierce power of waters let loose. An old willow-tree, about whose roots I had often watched the king-cups growing, was now in the centre of a stream as broad as the

t down the course of the river, with the houses and wharves that abutted

the sudden thaw, my father says, and he ought to know, for he has h

that; but come, i

e parted cordially-nay, aff

you come ag

r father

be limited to this. Nothing clandestine, nothing obtrusive,

uneasy, and instead of going to bed, though it was after

ll, father? Will it do a

ee know about

Halifax w

had better hol

ld m

ght. I think the sound of my crutches on the floor stirred him

ut to-day, Phineas?-th

the incident that had happened

brave thing t

nkering after is a good lad-a very decent lad-if thee doesn't make too

s hard enough for him to ha

y thoughts, I saw my father pass, fully dressed, with a light in his hand. And, man of peace though he was, I was very sure I saw in the other-something which always lay near his strong box, at his be

tate at making a noise. "Who's there?" called out my father; a

e one in my room. "Phineas, are

hed me, John's own familiar voice.

d deal yet. I am ready, sir"-in answer to a loud call. "Now, Phineas, lie you down a

se together, and did not

s carried away-houses inundated, or sapped at their foundations. The loss of life was small, but

-my father and John. At daybreak I saw the

olding fast his hands-faster and closer than I h

a cold morning for thee, m

ddy countenance pale; two st

me what has

n fit to take back a portion of mine. I, like many another in this

it had been hardly earned. I had not thoug

mind; it might

the world-save for-Where is the lad? What art thee st

cing. He was cold and wet. I want

," said my f

n c

he old man's grave face, and the lad's bright one-flushed all over with that ex

"give us some breakfast; the lad and me-

heese; but either did not or could not notice t

e," said my f

tchen, Abel Fletcher: his b

s sometimes rather afraid of Jael.

. Bring another plate,

ifax was bidden, and sat down to the same board as his maste

g, my father, contrary to his wont, explained to me all his losses; and how, but

came," I said, half

useful, too: it is an ol

grimly given. But directly after it some ill or suspi

the river rising by the light of the moon. What wast THEE doing then,

lood was always ready enough to rise in hi

be hard upon thee-

ered the boy, sturdily. "I was doi

siness

were watching, and had a candle; and

a ferret at a field-rat's hole, or a barrister hunting a witness in those c

I'm such a big fellow I can't write; and your son was good enough to try and teach me. I was afraid of forgetting the letter

ther quick and angry, won no reproof.

at all

es

tly to each other-afraid to interrupt. He smoked through a whole pi

Hali

m h

ee went away

ye, Phineas. Good day, sir. Is

father of such a son. My poor father-no, he did not once look from John Halifax to me. He would not have owned for the world that half-smo

great service to me this night.

nd dived down into his p

nough reward that I have been useful to

s hand. "Thee'rt in the right, lad. I am very m

away, looking as proud as an emperor, and

at would pleasure the lad?" said my father, after

hen all but an impossibility. Even now it was with some doubt and hesitatio

He would not care. He had rather lounge about all

knows nobody-cares for nobo

see abo

ifax came to us every Sunday; and for one day of the week, at least