The Bunsby Papers (second series): Irish Echoes Read online

  CHAPTER III.

  THE BOARDING-HOUSE.

  Turn we now to the _highly-genteel_ establishment where Henry Traversand his young wife are now domiciliated, presided over by a littlemore than middle-aged, severe-looking personage, who rejoiced in theeuphonious name of GRIMGRISKIN; her temper, phraseology, and generaldisposition may be better illustrated by the conversation which is nowgoing on between her and her two unfortunate inmates. The mid-dayaccumulation of scraps, which was dignified by the name of dinner, butjust over, Henry Travers, in his small, uncomfortable bed-room, wasruminating upon the darkness of his present destiny, when a sharp knockat his door admonished him that he was about to receive his usualdunning visit from his amiable landlady.

  "Come in," he gasped, with the articulation of a person about toundergo a mild species of torture.

  "You'll excuse me, good people," said Grimgriskin, "for the intrusion;but business is business, and if one don't attend _to_ one's business,it's highly probable one's business will make unto itself wings, and,in a manner of speaking, fly away: not that I want to make you feeluncomfortable. I flatter myself, in this establishment, nobody needbe under such a disagreeable apprehension; but houses won't keepthemselves, at least _I_ never knew any so to do. Lodgings islodgings, and board is board; moreover, markets--specially at thisseason of the year--may reasonably be said to be _markets_; beefand mutton don't jump spontaneously into one's hands; promiscuous-like,neither do the hydrants run tea and coffee--at least as far as myknowledge of hydrants goes."

  "The plain sense of all this is"----

  "Exactly what I am coming to," interrupted the voluble hostess. "I'm awoman of few words; but those few, such as they are, I'm proud to say,are generally to the purpose. I make it a point to send in my billsregularly every month, and I presume that it's not an unreasonablestretch of imagination to expect them to be paid. Now, for the lastthree months they have come up to you receipted, and down to me withwhat one might call the autographical corner torn off. Now, as it isnot in my nature to make any one feel uncomfortable, and being a womanof very few words, I would merely intimate to you that rents isrents--and, moreover, must be paid--and mine, I am sorry to observe, isnot a singular exception in such respect."

  "My dear Mrs. Grim"----

  "One moment!" interposed the woman of few words. "Perhaps you may notbe aware of the circumstance, but I have my eyes open--and, moreover,my ears--whispers is whispers, and I _have_ heard something that_might_ make you uncomfortable; but as that is not my principle, Iwon't repeat it; but talkers, you know, will be talkers, and boarderscan never be anything else in the world but boarders."

  "What have they dared to say of us?" inquired Henry.

  "Nothing--oh! nothing to be repeated--dear, no! I'm proud to observethat my boarders pay regularly every month, and are therefore highlyrespectable; and respectable boarders make a respectable house, and Iwouldn't keep anything else. Thank Heaven, I have that muchconsideration for my own respectability!"

  "May I be permitted to ask what all this amounts to?" asked Henry, withcommendable resignation.

  "Just two hundred dollars," sharply replied Mrs. Grimgriskin; "beingeighty for board, and one hundred and twenty for extras. I'm a woman offew words"----

  "And I'm a man of less," said Henry, "I can't pay it."

  "I had my misgivings," cried the landlady, tartly, "notwithstandingyour boast of being connected with the rich Mr. Granite. Allow me tosay, sir," she continued, seating herself upon a chair, "I've just sentfor a hackman to take your trunks away, and I mean to retain thefurniture until some arrangement is made."

  "May I come in?" murmured a small, but apparently well-known voice atthe door, from the alacrity with which Henry's poor, young wife rushedto open it, admitting old Sterling, the clerk.

  "Let me look in your eyes," cried she; "is there any hope?"

  Sterling shook his head.

  "No--no more!"

  "Heaven help us!" she exclaimed, as she tottered back to her seat.

  "Heaven has helped you, my bright bird," said Sterling. "I only shookmy head to make your joy the greater."

  "What say you?" exclaimed Travers; "has that stony heart relented?"

  "It is not a stony heart," replied Sterling; "I am ashamed of you forsaying so. It's a good, generous heart. It has made mine glow withlong-forgotten joy this day."

  "Does he give us relief?" inquired Henry.

  "He does," said the old man, the enthusiasm of generous happinesslighting up his features; "great, enduring relief. What do you think offive thousand dollars?"

  "You dream, I dream!" cried Travers, starting up in astonishment; whileMrs. Grimgriskin, smoothing her unamiable wrinkles, and her apron atthe same time, at the mention of so _respectable_ a sum, came forward,saying, in her newest-lodger voice--

  "You'll excuse me; but I'm a woman of few words. I hope you won't takeanything I've said as at all personal to you, but only an endeavor, asfar as in me lies, to keep up the credit of my own establishment; asfor that little trifle between us, of course you can take your own timeabout that." So saying, and with a profusion of unnoticed courtesies,she quitted the room.

  She had scarcely done so, when, with a deep groan of agony, Sterlingpressed his hand against his head, and staggered to a chair. In aninstant, Henry and his wife were by his side.

  "What is the matter, my dear Sterling?" cried Henry.

  "Don't come near me," replied the old clerk, the very picture ofdespair and wretchedness; "I am the destroyer of your peace, and of myown, for ever. Oh! why was I allowed to see this dreadful day? Curseme, Travers! Bellow in my blunted ear, that my vile sense may drink itin. I've lost it--lost it!"

  "Not the money?" exclaimed Henry and his wife at a breath.

  "That's right! kill me--kill me! I deserve it!" continued Sterling, inan agony of grief. "Oh! careless, guilty, unhappy old man, that in yourown fall must drag down all you love, to share your ruin!lost--lost--lost, for ever!"

  "Forgive even the appearance of injustice, my good, kind old friend,"soothingly observed Travers. "It is I who am the doomed one. There isno use in striving against destiny."

  "Don't, Henry, don't!" gasped the old clerk, through his fast-fallingtears. "This kindness is worse than your reproof. Let me die--let medie! I am not fit to live!" Suddenly starting to his feet, he cried:"I'll run back--perhaps I may find it. Oh! no--no! I cannot; my oldlimbs, braced up by the thought of bringing you happiness, are weakenedby the effect of this terrible reaction!"

  "Come--come, old friend, take it not so much to heart!" said Travers,cheering him as well as he could. "There, lean upon me; we'll go andsearch for it together, and even if it be not found, the loss is not afatal one, so long as life and health remain."

  "You say this but to comfort me, and in your great kindness of heart,dear, dear boy!" cried Sterling, as he rose from the chair, andstaggered out to retrace his steps, in the hope of regaining that whichhad been lost.