Joshua Marvel

"What now?" demanded Mr. Fewster angrily, and yet with a consciousness that the Lascar had sufficient cause for his abrupt entrance. "What thieves' trick have you been up to to-night, you dog! that you run in here as if the police were at your heels?"

"They are not," said the Lascar, shaking the snow from his clothes, dog-like; "and that's a good thing, master, for you and for me."

"For me, you dog! You dare to say that!"

"I forgot to close the gate," said the Lascar, taking no notice of Mr. Fewster's exclamation. He went out, and having locked the gate, re-entered; and, seeing a bottle on the table, said, "What's this? Rum?" He did not wait to be invited, but helped himself freely, and spread his cold hands before the fire. "I am numbed to the bone. It's precious cold being out in the snow all day. I didn't hope to find you at home, master. I thought you would be enjoying yourself like a gentleman. I ran in here, finding the gate open, not knowing where to run. It is snowing fast-that's one comfort-and my footsteps will soon be filled up."

All the while he spoke he was busily occupied warming his fingers and blowing on his knuckles.

"Now, explain the meaning of all this," said Mr. Fewster.

"Give me something to eat first, master. I haven't tasted food since the morning."

Mr. Fewster pointed to the cupboard; and the Lascar took bread and meat, and ate swiftly and ravenously.

"My service to you, master," he said, glass in hand, "and a merry Christmas."

When he had emptied the glass, he threw a knife on the table. It was a clasp-knife, and the blade was open. There was a triumphant demonstrativeness in the action that instantly attracted Mr. Fewster's attention. He saw blood upon the blade-blood scarcely dried. Whose blood was it? A mist floated before his eyes. It was there but a moment; but in that moment a picture presented itself to him in the midst of a lurid cloud-a picture of a handsome sailor, smitten by an assassin's hand, falling to the ground. Then the figures were lost in a glare of bright blood and bright snow; and they, in their turn, were lost in black shade. Although the vision lasted but a moment, it produced the curious effect upon him of having been enveloped in darkness for a long time; and the sudden awakening to consciousness caused him to shade his eyes with his hand, as if the light in the room were too strong for him. Awake again, the Lascar's familiar action and bearing smote him with a sense of danger. The instinct of self-preservation whispered to him that his good name might be imperilled by further association with the man. It was clear that the Lascar had done a desperate deed-a deed which, although he shuddered to think of it, had perhaps removed his enemy from the scene. But if so, it was murder. The merest whisper, the faintest breath of suspicion, would be his ruin, not only with the world, but with Ellen. He would pay for services-yes; but he would take no risk. It behoved him to be wary.

"They've had a merry party down yonder," said the Lascar, with a motion of his head in the direction of Mr. Marvel's house. "I made certain you were there, master. I've been hanging about the street all night in the cold. I've been on the watch; shall I tell you for whom?"

"No; I want to know nothing," replied Mr. Fewster, measuring his words carefully. "Understand me once and for all. Whatever you do you do on your own responsibility; and I will in no way be associated with it or with you. If you presume to associate me with any acts of violence on your part, I wash my hands of you. Nay, more: I will set those upon you who will not let you escape easily."

"I understand you, master," said the Lascar, without the least show of resentment. "But go on; you have more to say. I'll wait till you've done."

"You dog, you! You break into my house as if you had a right here! You tell me, as if I were interested in knowing, that the police are at your heels, and that you are afraid of your very footsteps being tracked! You have the presumption to say that it is a good job for me that it is not so! You throw down this knife before me with blood upon it! What is it to me whose blood it is, or what crime you have committed? What if it were to be discovered that you had rendered yourself liable to the law, and then had been seen to come here? If I did my duty, I should go for a policeman, and hand you into his charge, and so be rid of you."

The Lascar listened without the slightest sign of discomposure. He even nodded approvingly as he said, -

"There's only you and me, master. You wouldn't speak so if anybody else was by. Don't fear; I know what you mean well enough. There's no chance of our misunderstanding each other, though you're a better actor than I am, and that's a fact. Rest you easy. No one saw me come here; and no one shall see me go out. As for the police, I know as well as you that it would suit your game as little to set them on me as it would suit my game for them to be set on. But you're right in threatening me with them. It belongs to your part; for you are master. And it belongs to my part to take what you say kindly; for I am a dog. I am satisfied so long as I get enough to keep me; and I'm not greedy, as you know."

Solomon Fewster was extremely disconcerted by the Lascar's coolness. It proved to him that he was in the Lascar's power, and that the Lascar knew it. He was disconcerted also by the conviction that forced itself upon him, that the Lascar measured his indignation at its proper worth. But he could not belie his nature. It was impossible for him to be straightforward; even in his villainy he was compelled to be cunning. He would take care that he committed himself as little as possible by word of mouth. He was burning to hear what the Lascar had to tell, but he would not ask. He drew his breath hard, and it was with difficulty that he restrained his impatience during the long pause that followed; for the Lascar was as determined as he not to be the first to break the silence. At length, feeling that he was being mastered, he turned wrathfully upon the Lascar, and questioned, "Well?"

"Well!" was the quiet answer.

"If you have nothing more to say, you can go."

"I have something more to say, but I am waiting for permission to speak."

There was an assumption of insolent humility in the Lascar's tone; and Mr. Fewster bit his lip as he said, "Your tongue's your own; I can't stop you."

"Thank you, master;" with a cringing expression of satisfaction for the concession. "Since I was employed in my present service-I mean, since a certain night when a kind-hearted gentleman gave me a flower, the leaves of which I have kept carefully in paper, so that I shouldn't forget what I had to do-I have been more watchful than ever in the task I had set myself to perform. I have been better able to do that than I used to be, because the same kind-hearted gentleman has generously supplied me with money, so that I have had all my time at my own disposal. He also supplied me with information. The task I had to perform was to revenge myself upon Joshua Marvel for stepping between me and my affairs, and for doing me injury. A little while ago the gentleman told me that Joshua Marvel was expected home soon; and then I determined that not a night should pass and find me lagging. Not only my hate, but my faithful duty to my master, made me determined in this. I set myself to watch for the return of the sailor Joshua; and during my watch I discovered a curious thing. I discovered that the gentleman in whose service I am appeared very often in the street I was watching, and that he was in the habit of lingering there late at night. He never did any thing else but look up at the bedroom-window of a certain pretty girl, whose shadow I have often seen on the blind; and he never went away until the light in her room was extinguished. I was careful that he should not see me, for it was no business of mine; and I know when I ought to keep in the background. Besides, I admired him for it; for I knew that he loved this girl, and that Joshua Marvel stood in his way. Regularly every day I went to the docks to see if the Merry Andrew-Joshua Marvel's ship-had arrived; and as good luck would have it, the ship came in this very morning. When I learned that, I went back to my watch in the street the gentleman is so mightily fond of. I knew that Joshua Marvel wouldn't be able to get away from his ship directly it got into port; and I guessed that it was more likely than not that he wouldn't let his people at home know of his unexpected arrival. No; he would surprise them. It would be so pleasant on Christmas-eve to break in upon them suddenly, and be petted and kissed, especially by one" -

"The devil take you!" cried Solomon Fewster fiercely, grasping the table with such force that it trembled with the trembling of his hand. "Tell your story without preaching, can't you?"

"I'll try, master. I hung about the street the whole day, eating nothing, and drinking very little. I might have been frozen, if my purpose hadn't kept me warm. I didn't grumble because I had to wait. I wanted him to come at night, and he came when I wanted. It isn't much more than an hour ago" – here he dropped his voice to a whisper-"that I saw a sailor turn the corner of the street where pretty Ellen Taylor lives. He had an accordion under his arm, and a cage in his hand covered with a blue pocket-handkerchief; and he stopped two or three times to look at the houses, and nodded to them as if he was wishing them a merry Christmas. I followed him, like a cat, and opened my knife. He was singing-I couldn't catch the words-and to judge from that and from the way he walked, I should say he was as happy a man as any in London. He never once looked behind him; if he had, I would have struck him down. He stopped before the house where his father and mother lived, and stooped to the keyhole and listened. I was close upon him-waiting! If he hadn't been so much occupied, he might have smelt me at his back. But it wouldn't have saved him if he had seen me; he would only have been struck down the sooner. While he was listening at the keyhole, he laughed quietly, enjoying the surprise he was going to give his people. When he had his laugh out, he knocked at the door. Presently I heard a woman's voice inside the house ask, 'Who's there?' 'It's Josh,' said my man. I heard a cry of pleasure; and as the door was being unfastened, I raised my knife, and stabbed him in the back."

"And killed him?" cried Solomon Fewster involuntarily.

"I don't know. He fell; and as I ran off, I caught a glimpse of a woman kneeling by him in the snow, and raising his head to her bosom."

Solomon Fewster groaned. Without another word he opened the door by which the Lascar had entered, and walked into the open air. The snow-fall had ceased, and the stars were shining. The moon, too, had risen, and clouds of light and deep shade were gliding swiftly across it, while everchanging shadows were playing on the snow. In the distance he heard the waits; they were a long way off, and the strains of music fell upon his ears chastened and mellowed. He was in danger; he had allied himself with this man, who made so light of the shedding of blood; and he had been made a confederate in perhaps a murder. Not that he had any compunction; not that he had any pity. Nothing would have rejoiced him more than to have heard that Joshua had been killed in a mutiny, had been wrecked, or had lost his life on sea or on land by any means, so that he was not implicated in it. The feelings that disturbed him now were purely selfish; he had to save himself from suspicion, supposing any discovery were made. Perhaps it would be best, after all, to speak plainly to the Lascar. There were no witnesses, and it did not matter much what he said. If Joshua were dead, the Lascar must be got rid of at any sacrifice of money. Thus resolving, he returned to the room. The Lascar was sitting patiently before the fire, and did not even raise his eyes as Mr. Fewster entered. "He did not know what I went out for," thought Mr. Fewster. "I might have gone for a policeman, and if I had brought one in, he would have declared I was his accomplice."

"Has it left off snowing, master?" asked the Lascar.

"Yes."

"Then it wouldn't be quite safe for me to go away to-night-safe for you, I mean."

"You can stop here to-night."

"Thank you, master. Have I done well?"

"It doesn't matter whether I say you have done well or ill; so, to save argument, suppose I say you have done well. Now, attend. If what you have done to-night should turn out to be" -

"Say murder, master," said the Lascar, seeing that Mr. Fewster hesitated to speak plainly. "I don't mind."

"If it should turn out to be that, have you considered that you are in danger?"

"I haven't thought of it, master, and that's a fact. But if I am in danger, so are you."

"That may or may not be. The only danger I am in is from what you might say; and, supposing I had spoken to you only once in my life, you would be free to say any thing of me, or of any one else, for that matter. What you might say wouldn't be evidence, you know."

"True, master: but, at all events, I could ruin your chances with pretty Ellen Taylor."

"What satisfaction would that be to you?"

"Every satisfaction," said the Lascar with a kindling eye. "If any one hurts me, I hurt him."

"As you have hurt Joshua Marvel, because he hurt you."

"And because I am in your service," said the Lascar doggedly. "Don't forget that, please; I don't intend to forget it. If this is to be a fair argument, let it be fair. If it is to be acting, let it be acting. What I have done to-night is half for me and half for you: equal shares."

"I told you once that I would have no partnerships," said Mr. Fewster in a steady voice, "and I will have none; but I don't mind coming to a distinct understanding. If what you have done to-night should turn out at its worst" -

"Or its best," interrupted the Lascar sneeringly.

"It will not be safe for you to remain in the country. To please you, I will say it will not be safe for you or for me."

"Ah!" exclaimed the Lascar thoughtfully. "I think I understand you. Well, in that case there are plenty of countries I shouldn't mind going to; or I might go aboard ship again. How much will you give me?"

"A hundred pounds."

"Agreed, master, – if it should turn out at its worst, as you say. But if it does not, I stay, mind you."

"That is your affair."

"As much yours as mine, master," said the Lascar with determination.

"What makes you harp upon that, you dog?" exclaimed Mr. Fewster, firing up.

"Necessity," replied the Lascar coolly. He liked the life of indolence he had been leading, and he did not intend to relinquish his hold of Solomon Fewster. "I have no money, and no means of living. You have acted fairly to me up to now, and you must continue to do so. You can afford it, that's certain. I know what it is you fear. You fear that it should be known that I am in your service. Well, no one shall know it from me; and I will never come here again. You know where I stay. What you have to give me, leave there for me; and when you want me, send for me. I am your dog, ready to do your bidding. I can't speak fairer. There's no occasion for any more palaver. I'm tired and sleepy; I can sleep here, before the fire." He stretched himself on the ground by the side of the fire. "Silence gives consent, they say. If you don't speak, I shall understand that the affair is settled. You wanted a distinct understanding, you know."

He closed his eyes, and listened for the answer. The answer came-in silence; for Solomon Fewster spoke not another word that night. The Lascar, made drowsy by the glare from the fire, courted sleep; and it came to him, as it comes to better men. And Solomon Fewster sat, looking down upon the form of the man who could blast his good name by a word, and thought-What? Once during the night the Lascar awoke with a shiver. The fire had gone out; but Solomon Fewster was still sitting at the table with a haggard look upon his face, as if he had suddenly grown old.

CHAPTER XVIII

THE RIVALRY OF LOVE

A silence almost like the silence of the grave reigned in the house of the Marvels. If, by some chance, a blind man had found his way there, he might reasonably have wondered whether it was tenanted by ghosts or human beings. The persons in the house walked about it with such a ghostly motion that scarcely a footfall could be heard. The doors were opened and shut as tenderly as if wounds were being handled, and as if rough treatment would cause them to cry out with pain. The very voices were hushed and low, and what was said was said in whispers. The blow by which Joshua had been struck down was a severe one, and wounded many besides himself. Notwithstanding Minnie's efforts, Joshua had lost a great deal of blood, and was laid on a sick-bed for many weeks. For a long time the doctor feared for his life; but good nursing and a strong constitution were in his favor.

"But mind you, Mrs. Marvel," the doctor had said, half-a-dozen times, "nothing would have saved him-not even his constitution, and it's a good one; not even the nursing he has had, and no man ever had better-nothing would have saved him if Miss Kindred had not behaved like a heroine. You may thank that young lady for saving your son's life. If she hadn't stopped the flow of blood with her lips, all the doctors in London couldn't have kept him in the world for twenty-four hours."

When Minnie was told of this, she went to her room and locked herself in.

"I have saved him!" she said to herself, weeping tears of delicious joy. "I have saved his life! Oh, what happiness! I could die now, I am so happy!"

It might have been better for her if she had died then with those words upon her lips.

During the time that Joshua was in the greatest danger, Mrs. Marvel would allow no one but herself to sit up with him at night. She had a bed made up on the floor, and rested there, taking, indeed, but little sleep, until Joshua was out of danger. Minnie, especially, had pleaded hard to be allowed to sit up with her; but Mrs. Marvel was firm. Although she would not have confessed it even to herself, she was jealous of the girl's solicitude; and once expressed herself angrily because Minnie had offered to give Joshua his medicine. Afterwards, seeing Minnie in tears, Mrs. Marvel kissed her and begged her pardon in a gentle, motherly way, which made Minnie cry the more. Mrs. Marvel found Minnie more difficult to manage than Ellen. Ellen was wonderfully undemonstrative and wonderfully obedient. And besides, Ellen was never in the way when she was not wanted, and was always at hand the instant she was required. There was an instinctive sympathy between Mrs. Marvel and Ellen which did not exist between Mrs. Marvel and Minnie. The good mother loved both the girls, but she loved Ellen like a daughter. In the second week of Joshua's illness a circumstance occurred which, for a short time, occasioned Mrs. Marvel much anxious thought. Joshua being more feverish than usual-for three weeks he was delirious, and did not know where he was, or who were tending him-the girls hovered about the room (in their anxiety to be of some assistance) rather later than Mrs. Marvel generally allowed them.

"Go to bed, girls," said Mrs. Marvel.

Ellen rose obediently, and kissing Mrs. Marvel, and asking to be called if Mrs. Marvel wanted assistance in the night, went softly out of the room. But Minnie lingered behind, and with a yearning, wistful look at Mrs. Marvel, begged, in the softest of whispers, to be allowed to sit up with her.

"No, child," said Mrs. Marvel, "I can't think of it. You would be of no use to me to-morrow if you were to sit up to-night."

"Oh, yes, I should!" said Minnie, still pleading; "you don't know what a strong girl I am. Do let me stop with you! Do let me think that I can do something to help you!"

"You can do a great deal if you obey me, Minnie; and you do assist me very much, my dear; but I will not let you sit up to-night. Hush!" For here Joshua said something aloud, and murmured feverishly in his sleep. When he was quiet, Mrs. Marvel said, "Don't distress me, dear Minnie; go to bed, like a good girl."

Minnie, with deep sighs, went to the bedside to look at Joshua and to bid him a silent goodnight-Mrs. Marvel regarding her jealously the while-and then crept out of the room in tears. The girls being gone, Mrs. Marvel felt more contented. She sat down by her son's bedside, and, with that lightness of touch which nothing but a mother's pure love or that of a wife can impart, smoothed the bed-coverings, and brushed the hair from Joshua's eyes. At about eleven o'clock the handle of the door was gently turned, and Mr. Marvel entered. He had no boots on, and she had not heard him come up from the kitchen. Clasping his wife's hand, he leaned over the bed to catch a glimpse of Joshua's face.

"He is better to-night, George," she said; "he is getting along nicely. The doctor said to-day that he will soon be sensible."

George Marvel nodded, and put his lips to his wife's cheek.

"You must be very tired, Maggie."

She replied by a bright smile.

"Shall I sit up for an hour while you lie down?"

"Yes, father," knowing it would please him. "Have you had supper?"

A nod.

"And your beer?"

Another nod.

"And your pipe?"

"Yes; Ellen got every thing ready nicely. She is like you were when you were a girl, Maggie."

"Better than me, father."

"That's not possible, wife." Ah! how her heart fluttered as he said the word! She trembled in his arms like a girl. "Now lie down; I'll wake you in an hour."

She had but to close her eyes-being satisfied that her darling son was in good hands-and she was asleep. George Marvel watched for an hour, and perhaps a little longer, and then touched his wife, who was instantly awake. Alone again, Mrs. Marvel resumed her loving vigil. Not a sound was to be heard except the occasional prattle of Joshua, now of Dan and the birds, now of "father" and "mother," now of Ellen, now of Minnie and her shell. Mrs. Marvel had already learned, through those unconscious confessions, that her son's heart was as tender and as good as it had been before he had started in life for himself. A few minutes after the church-clock had struck two, Mrs. Marvel fancied she heard a soft breathing, outside the bedroom-door. She listened intently, thinking she must have been deceived; but no-the soft breathing, as of some one asleep, came distinctly to her ears. She went to the door and opened it, and, lying at the foot of the stairs in the narrow passage, she discovered Minnie, in her night-dress, fast asleep. The girl had evidently kept awake until Ellen and Sarah were asleep, and had then stolen down stairs, and had sat outside the door of the sick-room until she had been overpowered by fatigue. Mrs. Marvel stooped over the sleeping girl and whispered, -

"Minnie!"

The sound of her name, chiming in with some dreaming fancy, brought a happy smile to the girl's lips, and she answered, -

"Yes, Joshua!"

A look of pain passed into Mrs. Marvel's face; she knelt by Minnie's side, and gently raising the girl's head, she whispered again, -

"Minnie! You'll catch your death of cold lying here."

Minnie, still sleeping, encircled Mrs. Marvel's neck with her arms, and murmured, as she nestled close to the anxious mother's breast, -

"Joshua! Love me! Love me, Joshua!"

Mrs. Marvel trembled as she looked upon the girl's fair face, made fairer by the happy smile playing about the lips, and she felt a sudden chill at her heart.

"Oh, my poor Minnie!" she said beneath her breath. "Oh, my poor, poor Minnie!"

Then by a strong effort, she raised the girl, and so awoke her.

Before Minnie had time to recover full consciousness, her name, uttered by Joshua in his fevered sleep, fell upon her ears. With a glad cry she sprang from Mrs. Marvel's arms into the sick-room; but Mrs. Marvel stepped swiftly before her, and taking her two hands prisoner, said, in a voice which, although very low, was stern and decided, "I am seriously angry with you, Minnie."

The sudden movements, the light in the room, and, above all, Mrs. Marvel's stern voice, restored Minnie to her senses. She dropped her head, and a hot blush of shame stole over her neck and face, while the hands which Mrs. Marvel held turned cold as ice. All Mrs. Marvel's sternness was gone, and pity only remained.