A House to Let

g it down with a smart tap of triumph on the table. “May I venture to ask what you think of that p

rd. When I recovered a little, my first ques

Surely you have not let a whole week go by

ents, seeing that Mr. Jarber chose to come forward, in the first instance, with his. I am now ready to go on with the second part of my story as shortly and plainly as possible, by word of mouth. The first thing I must clear up, if you please, is the matter of Mr. Forley’s family affairs. I have heard you speak of them, ma’am, at various times; and I have u

right,”

a mate of a merchant-vessel, named Kirkland. Mr. Forley not only never forgave that marriage, but vowed that he would visit the scandal of it heavily in the future on husband and wife.

quite

usiness for a moment, please to follow me first, if you have no objection, into the ugly subject of Benjamin’s face. About six or seven years ago (thanks to your kindness) I had a week’s holiday with some friends of mine who live in the town of Pendlebury. One of those friends (the only one now left in the place) kept a chemist’s shop, and in that shop I was made acquainted with one of the two doctors in the town, named Barsham. This Barsham was a first-rate surgeon, and might have got to the top of his professi

nd Benjamin

the doctor who attended on Mrs. Kirkland was Barsham; that the nurse who took care of her was Barsham’s mother; and that the person who called them both in, was Mr. Forley. Whether his daughter wrote to him, or whether he heard of it in some other way, I don’t know; but he was with her (though he had sworn never to see her again when she married) a month or more before her confinement, and was backwards and forwards a good deal between Flatfield and Pendlebury. How he managed matters with the Barshams cannot at present be discovered; but it is a fact that he contrived to keep the drunken doctor sober, to everybody

ottle! you spoke that word ‘burial’ in a very strange way — y

o me, and pointed through t

ant, Still-Born. The child’s coffin lies in the mother’s grave, in Flatfield churchyard. The child himself — as

ack in m

e himself master of the contents of that will; and when he had done so, I put these two questions to him. ‘Can Mr. Forley leave his money at his own discretion to anybody he pleases?’ ‘No,’ my friend says, ‘his father has left him with only a life interest in it.’ ‘Suppose one of Mr. Forley’s married daughters has a girl, and the other a boy, how would the money go?’ ‘It would all go,’ my friend says, ‘to the boy, and it would be charged with the payment of a certain annual income to his female cousin. After her death, it would go back to the male descendant, and to his heirs.’ Consider that, ma’

ndows opposite. As he did so, I was startled — a very slight matter sufficed t

ook it from her. The mourning card, which was a

d departed this life three days

ng the truth,” I asked, “rest wit

o vouch for the fact of Mr. Forley’s death; and with a bold acknowledgment on my part of having got possession of their secret, and of being ready to use it against them in case of need, I think there is little doubt of bringing Barsham and his mother to terms. In case I find it impossible to get back here before dusk, please to sit near the window, ma’am, and watch the house, a little before they light the street-

door and left me, were words charging him to take car

I looked in that direction, and saw Trottle get out of the cab alone, walk up to the house, and knock at the door. He was let in by Barsham’s mother. A minute or two later, a decently-dressed man sauntered past the house, looked up at i

n the dusk, and then felt sure I heard it shut again softly. Though I tried hard to compose myself, I trembled so that I was obl

could knock. Peggy went back, and I wen

fortless, empty parlour. “Barsham and his mother have consulted their own interests, and hav

my heart, and brought the warm tears of my youthful days thronging back into my eyes. I took my faith

o try and wait a little. You are agitated already, and a first meeting with the child will not help to make you so calm, as you would wish to be, if Mr. Forley’s messenger comes. The

horrified at the discovery of my own relation’s wickedness that when Trottle proposed to make me acquainted with the confession w

ny, and that they were dependent on him for the bread they eat. He brought them up to London to keep them securely under his own eye. He put them into this empty house (taking it out of the agent’s hands previously, on pretence that he meant to manage the letting of it himself); and by keeping the house empty, made it the surest of all hiding places for the child. Here, Mr. Forley could come, whenever he pleased, to see that the poor lone

ble knock

e knock; and returned, leading in a respectable-looking elderly man, dressed like T

made some mistake,

entleman answered, “Yes.” There was an awkward moment of silence, after that. The stranger seemed to be not only startled and amazed, but rather distrustful and fearful of committing himself as well. Noticing this, I thought it best to request Trottle to put an end t

to Trottle also — that we were not dealin

taking charge of the house. He said he had reasons for wishing the affair to be kept a secret. He begged me so to arrange my engagements that I could call at this place either on Monday last, or to-day, at dusk; and he mentioned that he would write to warn the people of my coming, without mentioning my name (Dalcott is my name), as he did not wish to expose me to any future importunities on the part of the man and woman. I need hardly tell you that this commission struck me as being a strange one; but, in my position with Mr.

sure of it, si

as unexpected. May I inquire if you were pres

s matter which now occupies us. In the absence of instructions I must act cautiously on what you have told me; but I will be rigidly fair and just at the same time. The first thing to be done,” he continued, addressing himself to Trottle, “is to hear what the man and woman, down-stairs, have to say. If you can supply me with writing-materials, I will take their declarations separately on the spot, in your presence, and i

odgings; and, to my unutterable joy and relief, it was also readily acknowledged that the poor little orphan boy could find no fitter refuge than my old arms were longing to

le Mite, and embraced him, and asked him if he would go with me to where I lived? He held me away for a mo

with you, I am —

s trust in my old self, I thanked Heaven, then,

ut of breath up-stairs, with a strange pair of poor little legs under my arm; but, she began to cry over the child the moment she saw him, like a sensible woma

hand, as he looked on: “the forlorn baby came to this refug

ly went and put his head out at an open window on the landin

ever to be thought about enough at Christmas-time, the idea came into my mind which I ha

l sell that House

, ma’am, if he can

l bu

o perfectly enchanted as he was when I confided to him, w

force!— I bought the House. Mrs. Bayne had her father’s blood in her; she evaded the opportunity of forgiving and generous reparation that was

s incoherent as need be. I bought the House, and I altered it from the

he came to be pretty, and childish, and winning, and companionable, and to have pictures and toys about him, and suitable playmates. As I write, I look across the road to my Hospital, and there

returning health. As my precious darling has changed beyond description for the brighter and the better, so do the not less precious darlings of poor women change in that House

The End<