The String of Pearls; Or, The Barber of Fleet Street. A Domestic Romance.
"Have mercy upon me," said Tobias, "and hide me if you can."
"Hide you! hide you! God of Heaven, who are you?"
"A poor victim, who has escaped from one of the cells, and I--"
"Hush!" said the woman; and she made Tobias shrink down in the corner of
the cell, cleverly covering him up with the straw, and then lying down
herself in such a position that he was completely screened. The
precaution was not taken a moment too soon, for, by the time it was
completed, Watson had burst open the door of the room which Tobias had
bolted, and stood in the narrow passage.
"How the devil," he said, "came that door shut, I wonder?"
"Oh! save me," whispered Tobias.
"Hush! hush! He will only look in," was the answer. "You are safe. I
have been only waiting for some one who could assist me, in order to
attempt an escape. You must remain here until night, and then I will
show you how it may be done. Hush!--he comes." Watson did come, and
looked into the cell, muttering an oath, as he said--
"Oh, you have enough bread and water till to-morrow morning, I should
say; so you need not expect to see me again till then."
"Oh! we are saved! we shall escape," said the poor creature, after
Watson had been gone some minutes.
"Do you think so?"
"Yes, yes! Oh, boy, I do not know what brought you here, but if you have
suffered one-tenth part of the cruelty and oppression that I have
suffered, you are indeed to be pitied."
"If we are to stay here," said Tobias, "till night, before making any
attempt to escape, it will, perhaps, ease your mind, and beguile the
time, if you were to tell me how you came here."
"God knows! it might--it might."
Tobias was very urgent upon the poor creature to tell her story, to
beguile the tedium of the time of waiting, and after some amount of
persuasion she consented to do so.
"You shall now hear," she said to Tobias, "if you will listen, such a
catalogue of wrongs, unredressed and still enduring, that would indeed
drive any human being mad; but I have been able to preserve so much of
my mental faculties as will enable me to recollect and understand the
many acts of cruelty and injustice that I have endured here for many a
long and weary day. My persecutions began when I was very young--so
young that I could not comprehend their cause, and used to wonder why I
should be treated with greater rigour or with greater cruelty than
people used to treat those who were really disobedient and wayward
children. I was scarcely seven years old when a maiden aunt died; she
was the old person whom I remember as having been uniformly kind to me;
though I can only remember her indistinctly, yet I know she was kind to
me; I know also I used to visit her, and she used to look upon me as her
favourite, for I used to sit at her feet upon a stool, watching her as
she sat amusing herself by embroidering, silent and motionless
sometimes, and then I asked her some questions which she answered. This
is the chief feature of my recollection of my aunt: she soon after died,
but while she lived, I had no unkindness from anybody; it was only after
that that I felt the cruelty and coolness of my family. It appeared that
I was a favourite with my aunt above all others, either in our family or
any other; she loved me, and promised that when she died, she would
leave me provided for, and that I should not be dependent upon any one.
Well, I was, from the day after the funeral, an altered being. I was
neglected, and no one paid any attention to me whatsoever; I was thrust
about, and nobody appeared to care even if I had the necessaries of
life. Such a change I could not understand. I could not believe the
evidence of my own senses; I thought it must be something that I did not
understand; perhaps my poor aunt's death had caused this distress and
alteration in people's demeanour to me. However, I was a child, and
though I was quick enough at noting all this, yet I was too young to
feel acutely the conduct of my friends. My father and mother were
careless of me, and let me run where I would; they cared not when I was
hurt, they cared not when I was in danger. Come what would, I was left
to take my chance. I recollect one day when I had fallen from the top to
the bottom of some stairs and hurt myself very much; but no one
comforted me; I was thrust out of the drawing-room, because I cried. I
then went to the top of the stairs, where I sat weeping bitterly for
some time. At length, an old servant came out of one of the attics, and
said--
"'Oh! Miss Mary, what has happened to you, that you sit crying so
bitterly on the stair head? Come in here!'
"I arose and went into the attic with her, when she set me on a chair,
and busied herself with my bruises, and said to me--
"'Now, tell me what are you crying about, and why did they turn you out
of the drawing-room--tell me now?'
"'Ay,' said I, 'they turned me out because I cried when I was hurt. I
fell all the way down stairs, but they don't mind.'
"'No, they do not, and yet in many families they would have taken more
care of you than they do here!'
"'And why do you think they would have done so?' I inquired.
"'Don't you know what good fortune has lately fallen into your lap? I
thought you knew all about it.'
"'I don't know anything, save they are very unkind to me lately.'
"'They have been very unkind to you, child, and I am sure I don't know
why, nor can I tell you why they have not told you of your fortune.'
"'My fortune,' said I; 'what fortune?'
"'Why, don't you know that when your poor aunt died you were her
favourite?'
"'I know my aunt loved me,' I said; 'she loved me, and was kind to me;
but since she has been dead, nobody cares for me.'
"'Well, my child, she has left a will behind her which says that all her
fortune shall be yours; when you are old enough you shall have all her
fine things; you shall have all her money and her house.'
"'Indeed!' said I; 'who told you so?'
"'Oh, I have heard it from those who were present at the reading of the
will, that you are, when you are old enough, to have all. Think what a
great lady you will be then! You will have servants of your own.'
"'I don't think I shall live till then.'
"'Oh yes, you will--or at least I hope so.'
"'And if I should not, what will become of all those fine things that
you have told me of? Who'll have them?'
"'Why, if you do not live till you are of age, your fortune will go to
your father and mother, who take all.'
"'Then they would sooner I should die than live?'
"'What makes you think so?' she inquired.
"'Why,' said I, 'they don't care anything for me now, and they will have
my fortune if I were dead--so they don't want me.'
"'Ah, my child!' said the old woman, 'I have thought of that more than
once; and now you can see it. I believe that it will be so. There has
many a word been spoken truly enough by a child before now, and I am
sure you are right--but do you be a good child, and be careful of
yourself, and you will always find that Providence will keep you out of
any trouble.'
"'I hope so,' I said.
"'And be sure you don't say who told you about this.'
"'Why not,' I inquired; 'why may I not tell who told me about it?'
"'Because,' she replied, 'if it were known that I told you anything
about it, as you have not been told by them, they might discharge me,
and I should be turned out.'
"'I will not do that,' I replied; 'they shall not learn who told me,
though I should like to hear them say the same thing.'
"'You may hear them do so one of these days,' she replied, 'if you are
not impatient: it will come out one of these days--two may know of it.'
"'More than my father and mother?'
"'Yes, more--several.'
"No more was said then about the matter; but I treasured it up in my
mind. I resolved that I would act differently, and not have anything to
do with them--that is, I would not be more in their sight than I could
help--I would not be in their sight at all, save at meal times--and when
there was any company there I always appeared. I cannot tell why; but I
think it was because I sometimes attracted the attention of others, and
I hoped to be able to hear something respecting my fortune; and in the
end I succeeded in doing so, and then I was satisfied--not that it made
any alteration in my conduct, but I felt I was entitled to a fortune.
How such an impression became imprinted upon a girl of eight years of
age, I know not: but it took hold of me, and I had some kind of notion
that I was entitled to more consideration than I was treated to.
"'Mother,' said I one day to her.
"'Well, Mary, what do you want to tease me about now?'
"'Didn't Mrs. Carter the other day say that my aunt left me a fortune?'
"'What is the child dreaming about?' said my mother. 'Do you know what
you are talking about, child?--you can't comprehend.'
"'I don't know, mother, but you said it was so to Mrs. Carter.'
"'Well, then, what if I did, child?'
"'Why, you must have told the truth or a falsehood.'
"'Well, Miss Impudence!--I told the truth, what then?'
"'Why, then I am to have a fortune when I grow up, that's all I mean,
mother, and then people will take care of me. I shall not be forgotten,
but everything will be done for me, and I shall be thought of first.'
"My mother looked at me very hard for a moment or two, and then, as if
she was actuated by remorse, she made an attempt to speak, but checked
herself, and then anger came to her aid, and she said--
"'Upon my word, miss! what thoughts have you taken into your fancy now?
I suppose we shall be compelled to be so many servants to you! I am sure
you ought to be ashamed of yourself--you ought, indeed!'
"'I didn't know I had done wrong,' I said.
"'Hold your tongue, will you, or I shall be obliged to flog you!' said
my mother, giving me a sound box on the ears that threw me down. 'Now,
hold your tongue and go up stairs, and give me no more insolence.'
"I arose and went up stairs, sobbing as if my heart would break. I
cannot recollect how many bitter hours I spent there, crying by
myself--how many tears I shed upon this matter, and how I compared
myself to other children, and how much my situation was worse than
theirs by a great deal. They, I thought, had their companions--they had
their hours of play. But what companions had I? and what had I in the
way of relaxation? What had I to do save to pine over the past, the
present, and the future? My infantile thoughts and hours were alike
occupied by the sad reflections that belonged to a more mature age than
mine; and yet I was so. Days, weeks, and months passed on--there was no
change, and I grew apace; but I was always regarded by my family with
dislike, and always neglected. I could not account for it in any other
way than they wished me dead. It may appear very dreadful--very dreadful
indeed--but what else was I to think? The old servant's words came upon
my mind full of their meaning--if I died before I was one-and-twenty,
they would have all my aunt's money.
"'They wish me to die,' I thought, 'they wish me to die; and I shall
die--I am sure I shall die! But they will kill me--they have tried it by
neglecting me, and making me sad. What can I do--what can I do?'
"These thoughts were the current matter of my mind, and how often do
they recur to my recollection now I am in this dull, dreadful place! I
can never forget the past. I am here because I have rights elsewhere,
which others can enjoy, and do enjoy. However, that is an old evil. I
have thus suffered long. But to return. After a year had gone by--two, I
think, must have passed over my head--before I met with anything that
was at all calculated to injure me. I must have been near ten years old,
when, one evening, I had no sooner got into bed, than I found I had been