The Fallen Leaves

d to shape the sad short course of our lives, are sometimes of mysteriously remote or

d bowling his first hoop, a domestic misfortune, falling on a household of strangers, was destined never

evious ways the event here related affected the chief personage of these pages, when he grew to manhood, it will be the business of the story to trace,

wife at the ripe age of fifty, and carried with him into the h

ache. Travelling by sea will make you sick — it makes me sick. If you want change of air, every sort of air is to be found in the City. If you admire the beauties of Nature, there is Finsbury Square with the beauties of Nature carefully selected and arranged. When we are in London, you (and I) are all right; and when we are out of London, you (and I) are all wrong.” As surely as the autumn holiday season set

on all despotisms, great and small, overtook the iron rule of Old Ronald

ercilessly kept his word. The younger daughter (now eighteen years of age) proved to be also a source of parental inquietude, in another way. She was the passive cause of the revolt which set her father’s authority at defiance. For som

at perplexed him in his wife’s look and manner, on the memorable occas

. “Send for Emma,” he said, his natural cunning inspiring him with the idea of confronting the mother and daughter, and of seeing what came of that. Emma appeared, plump and short, with large blue eyes,

nald, “that the girl is pining for fresh

e in his nature. It was not a large place; but it did exist. And the p

ll see about

rs. Ronald persisted. “I mean to

at turns on him. “You mean?” repeated the stationer. “Upon my soul —

e already told you that the girl is ill,” she said to her husband. “And I now tell you again that she must have the sea air. For God’s sake, don’t let us quarrel! I have eno

t had arrived with the night, is naturally involved in mystery. This alone is certain: On the next morning, the lug

m anxious about our girl’s health. If I have offended you — without meaning it, God knows!— say you forgive me before I go.

ement — which had made her marriage to a man old enough to be her father a cause of angry astonishment among all her friends. In the agitation that now possessed her, her colour rose, her eyes brightened; she looked for the moment almost young enough to be Emm

ing to his club (at the tavern round the corner), he took a long walk in the lonely and lifeless streets of the City by night. There was no disguising it from himself; his wife’s behaviour at parting had made him uneasy. He naturally sw

i

brought him a let

is calm, and the pleasure-boats are out. We do not of course expect to see you here. But if you do, by any chance, overcome your objection to moving out of London, I have a little request to make. Please let me hear of your visit beforehand — so that I may not omit all needful preparations. I know you dislike being troubled with

while, he looked at the letter again — and frowned, and reflected. “Please let me hear of your visit beforehand,” he repeated to himself, as if the request had been, in some incomprehensible way, offen

He also forwarded one or two letters which came for Mrs. Ronald. No more news reached him from Ramsgate. “I s

hat night. It was nearly one in the morning when he let

t in his wife’s handwriting; not in any handwriting known to him. The characters sloped the wrong way, and th

er your wife. There are strange doings at the seaside. If you do

anonymous letter, the first he had ever

s wife’s letter out of the drawer, and read it through slowly. “Ha!” he said, pausing as he came across the sentence which requested him to write beforehand, in the unlikely event of his deciding to go to Ramsgate. He thought again of the strangely persistent way in which his wife had dwelt on his trusting her; he recalled her nervous anxious looks, her deepening colour, her agitation at one moment, and then her sudden silence and sudden retreat to the cab. Fed by these irritating influences, the inbred suspicion in his nature began to take fire slowly. She might be innocent enough in asking him to give her notice before he joined h

ther taken her to Ramsgate? Perhaps, as a blind — ah, yes, perhaps as a blind! More for the sake of something to do than for any other reason, he packed a handbag with a few necessaries. As soon as the servant was stirri

ean?” he asked. “

ster, and paused aghast wi

s come to you?” he

epeated his question

now,” was

Have you been u

es

el

more, his bed hasn’t been slept in last nigh

he anonymous letter, staggered him. But his business instincts were still in good working order. He h

protest. “That’s not the right r

I tel

d pence paid by chance customers up to the closing of the shop on the previous evenin

with the assistance of his subordinate. “If what you said just now means anything,” he resu

e young fellow and a clever young fellow, I grant you. But a bad serva

o the facts,” he growled. “Why has Farnaby gone

the clerk give him the money for his post-office order. Five pounds in gold, which I reckoned as they lay on the counter, and a bank-note besides, which he crumpled up in his hand. I can’t tell you how much it was for; I only know it was a bank-note. Just ask yourself how a porter on twenty shillings a week (with a mother who takes in washing, and a father who takes in drink) comes to have a correspondent who sends him an order for five sovereigns — and a bank-note, value unknown. Say he’s turned betting-man i

nterposing a word on his own part, made an extraordinar

rk answered, w

nmonger’s man over the way will help you to put up the shutters at night. If anybody inquires for me, say I shall be back tomorrow.

s’ notice of the starting of th

y noticeable by his florid complexion, his restless dark eyes, and his profusely curling black hair. The other was a middle-aged woman in frowsy garments; tall and stout, sly and sullen. The smart young man stood behind the uncongenial-

up your mind till the t

swered. “If the person travels by this train, we shall travel by it. If not, we shall come

u’re a stranger, young Mister; and it’s as likely as not you’ve given me a false name and address. That don’t matter. False names are commoner than t

nly interposed in a whisper. “It’

own, deep in thought, noticing nobody. The traveller was Mr. Ronald. The young

hey took their places. Farnaby handed it to her, ready wrapped up in a morsel of paper. She opened the paper, satisfied herself that no trick had been played her, and leane

railway station to the port of Ramsgate. Asking his way of the first policeman whom he met, he turned to the left, and reached the

hamed of himself. After twenty years of undisturbed married life, was it possible that he had doubted his wife — and that at the instigation of a stranger whose name even was unknown to him? “If she was to step out in the balcony, and see me down here,” he thought, “what

nald lodge he

s. This strange reception of his inquiry irritated him unreasonably. He knocked with the absurd violence of a man who vents his a

ald lodge here

— the effort of a person who was carefully considerin

rooms here. But she has

stupidly silent on the doorstep. His anger was gone; an all-mastering fear throbbed heavily at his heart.

, she said, when her friends left — but they had not quite settled the day yet. She calls here for letters. Indeed, she was here early this morning, to pay the second week’s rent. I asked

ly to speak. “Can you tell me w

g letters or cards to her present residence. She declined the offer — and she has never mentioned the address.

— it doesn’t matte

e husband, Peggy,” she said to the servant, waiting inquisitively behin

nd view of sea and sky. There were some seats behind the railing which fenced the ed

is mind began to wander strangely; he was not angry or frightened or distressed. Instead of thinking of what had just happened, he was thinking of his young days when he had been a cricket-player. One special game

red languidly what had come to him. Farnaby and the woman, still foll

ur, that’s the Ramsgate Tug. Do you know what I should like to see? I should like to see the Ramsgate Tug blow up. Why? I’ll tell you why. I belong to Broadstairs; I don’t belong to Ramsgate. Very well. I’m idling here, as you may see, without one copper piece in my pocket to rub against another. What trade do I belong to? I don’t belong to no trade; I belong to a boat. The boat’s rotting at Broadstairs, for want of work. And all along of what? All along of the Tug. The Tug has took the bread out of our mouths: me and my mates. Wait a bit; I’ll show you how. What did a ship do, in the good old times, when she got on them sands — Goodwin Sands? Went to pieces, if it come on to blow; or got sucked down little by little when it

tairs was shaking him by the collar. “I say, Master, cheer up; what’s come to you?” On the other side, a compassionate lady was offering her smelling-bottle. “I am afraid, sir, you have fainted.” He struggled to his feet, and vacantly thanked the lady. The man from Broads

o would take charge of him; he submitted as if he h

enced by the sudden appearance of a gold coin between Mr. Ronald’s finger and thumb. “Don’t speak to me; pay the bill, and bring me the change outside.” When the boatman joined him, he was reading a letter; walking to and fro, and speaking at intervals to himself. “God help me, have I lost my senses? I

his pocket cheerfully, and that was all. Leading the way inland, he went downhil

towards the east, and looked up at the name of the street. “I’ve got my instructions,”

spot. The guide stopped, and put a question with inquisitive respect. “What number, sir?” Mr. Ronald had sufficiently recovered himself to keep his own counsel. “That will do,” he said. “You can leave me.” The boatman waited a moment. Mr. Rona

pies were already posted. The woman loitered on the road, within view of the door. Farnaby was o

rner directly,” he said, “on important business.” His tone and manner had their effect on the lazy man. “What name?” he asked. Mr. Ronald declined to mention his name. “Give my message,” he said. “I won’t detain Mrs. Turner more than a minute.” The man hes

ity on the mantelpiece. The smell of onions was in the air. A torn newspaper, with stains of beer on it, lay on the floor. There was some sinister influence in the place which affected Mr. Ronald painfully. He felt himself trembling, and sat down on one of the rickety chairs. The minutes followed one another we

oked towards the open window of the back parlour. He reflected for a momen

back garden,” he

kicking my heels in this wretch

London with the other half of the money.” He showed it t

d to the back garden door, which was left ajar. “Speak s

y’re talking about, if

that you can’t be seen from the house. If you hear a row, you may take it for granted that I am found out. In that case, go back to London by the nex

of the window) of which he skilfully availed himself. The dust-bin was at the side of the house, situated at a right angle to the parlour window. He was safe behind

he voice of Mrs. Ronald. She was speaking w

nd I do ask it. If I had been bent on nothing but saving the reputation of our miserable girl, yo

nterposed sternly. “Calamity! Sa

e the interruption. Sadly

irl! don’t think of it! I don’t think of it! Show me the letter that brought you here; I want to see the letter. Ah, I can tell you who wrote it! He wrote it. In his own interests; always with his own interests in view. Don’t you see it for yourself? If I succeed in keeping this shame and misery a secret from everybody — if I take Emma away, to some place abroad, on pretence of her health — there is an end of his hope of becoming your son-in-law; there is an end of his being taken into the business. Yes! he, the low-lived vagabond who puts up the shop-shutters, he looks forward to being taken into partnership, and succeeding you when you die! Isn’t his object in writing that letter as plain to you now as the heaven above us? His one chance is to set your temper in a flame, to provoke the scandal of

ess to justify herself, now broke beyond all control. “You lie!” he cried furiously. “If you know everything else abou

Mrs. Ronald could speak again. His daughter had

ilence. Then Mrs. Ronald’s voice was heard from the upper room calling to the nurse, asleep in the front parlour. The nurse’s gruff tones were just audible,

decline to answer for her life, unless you make the attempt at least to undo the mischief you have done. Whether you mean it or not, soothe her with kind words; say you have forgiven her. No! I have nothing to do

of the men were the next sounds to be heard. After that, there was a pause of silence — a long pause, broken by Mrs. Ronald, calling again f

The nurse was grumbling to herself over the grievance of having been awakened from her sleep. “After being up all night, a pers

entured nearer to the window, in his eagerness to find out what might happen next. After no long interval, the next sound came — a sound of heavy breathing, which told him that the drowsy nurse wa

n an armchair; and the chil

. Arrived in the passage, he could just hear them talking upstairs. They were no doubt still absorbed in their troubles; he had only the servant to dread. The splashing of

he serious risk was the risk of waking her, i

the child away from her; leaving her hand resting on her lap by degrees so gradual that the lightest sleeper could not have felt the change. That done (barring accidents), all was done. Keeping the child resting easily on his left arm, he had his right hand free to shut the door again. Arrived at the garden

rose to receive him, with the first smile that

by,” she said, “Well,

d irritably. “We have

the town. The first person he met directed him to the railway station. It was clo

money,” he said, handing it to

wning expression of doubt. “All very well as lo

ll call and see y

the whole value she set on that assura

f unfeigned relief. “There!” he thought to himself. “Emma’s reputation is safe enough no

(after he had got rid of the child) had been carefully considered by him, on the journey to Ramsgate. “Emma’s husband-that-is-to-be”— he had reasoned it out —“will naturally

hat led back to Slains Row, and rang the door-bell as

ct composure. There are occasions on which a handsome man is bound to put his personal advantages to their best use. He took out his pocket-comb, and touched up the arrangement of his whiskers with a skil