Post Haste by Robert Michael Ballantyne (parable of the sower read online .TXT) 📖

of myself."

Evidently the missionary thought so too, for, with a quiet bow, he turned and went his way.

At the end of a remarkably dark passage George Aspel ran his head against a beam and his knee against a door with considerable violence.

"Come in," said a very weak but sweet little voice, as though doors in that region were usually rapped at in that fashion.

Lifting the latch and entering, Aspel found himself confronted by Tottie Bones in her native home.

It was a very small, desolate, and dirty home, and barely rendered visible by a thin "dip" stuck into an empty pint-bottle.

Tottie opened her large eyes wide with astonishment, then laid one of her dirty little fingers on her rosy lips and looked imploringly at her visitor. Thus admonished, he spoke, without knowing why in a subdued voice.

"You are surprised to see me, Tottie?"

"I'm surprised at nothink, sir. 'Taint possible to surprise me with anythink in _this_ life."

"D'you expect to be surprised by anything in any other life, Tottie?" asked Aspel, more amused by the air of the child than by her answer.

"P'r'aps. Don't much know, and don't much care," said Tottie.

"Well, I've come to ask something," said the youth, sitting down on a low box for the convenience of conversation, "and I hope, Tottie, that you'll tell me the truth. Here's a half-crown for you. The truth, mind, whether you think it will please me or not; I don't want to be pleased--I want the truth."

"I'd tell you the truth without _that_," said Tottie, eyeing the half-crown which Aspel still held between his fingers, "but hand it over. We want a good many o' these things here, bein' pretty hard up at times."

She spun the piece deftly in the air, caught it cleverly, and put it in her pocket.

"Well, tell me, now, did you post the letter I gave you the night I took tea with Miss Lillycrop?"

"Yes, I did," answered the child, with a nod of decision.

"You're telling the truth?"

"Yes; as sure as death."

Poor Tottie had made her strongest asseveration, but it did not convey to Aspel nearly so much assurance as did the earnest gaze of her bright and truthful eyes.

"You put it in the pillar?" he continued.

"Yes."

"At the end of the street?"

"Yes, at the end of the street; and oh, you've no idea what an awful time I was about it; the slit was so high, an' I come down sitch a cropper w'en it was done!"

"But it went in all right?"

"Yes, all right."

George Aspel sat for some moments in gloomy silence. He now felt convinced of that which at first he had only suspected--namely, that his intending patron was offended because he had not at once called in person to thank him, instead of doing so by letter. Probably, also, he had been hurt by the expressions in the letter to which Philip Maylands had objected when it was read to him.

"Well, well," he exclaimed, suddenly giving a severe slap to his unoffending thigh, "I'll have nothing to do with him. If he's so touchy--as that comes to, the less that he and I have to say to each other the better."

"Oh! _please_, sir, hush!" exclaimed Tottie, pointing with a look of alarm to a bundle which lay in a dark corner, "you'll wake 'im."

"Wake who?"

"Father," whispered the child.

The visitor rose, took up the pint-bottle, and by the aid of its flaring candle beheld something that resembled a large man huddled together in a heap on a straw mattress, as he had last fallen down. His position, together with his torn and disarranged garments, had destroyed all semblance to human form save where a great limb protruded. His visage was terribly disfigured by the effects of drink, besides being partly concealed by his matted hair.

"What a wretched spectacle!" exclaimed the young man, touching the heap with his foot as he turned away in disgust.

Just then a woman with a black eye entered the room with a black bottle in her hand. She was the woman who had refused the beer from Aspel.

"Mother," said Tottie, running up to her, "here's the gent who--"

"'Av-'ee-go'-th'-gin?" growled a deep voice from the dark corner.

"Yes, Abel--"

"'Ave 'ee got th' gin, I say, Molly?" roared the voice in rising wrath.

"Yes, yes, Abel, here it is," exclaimed the woman, hastening towards the corner.

The savage who lay there was so eager to obtain the bottle that he made a snatch at it and let it slip on the stone floor, where it was broken to pieces.

"O don't, Abel dear, don't! I'll get another," pleaded the poor woman; but Abel's disappointment was too great for endurance; he managed to rise, and made a wild blow at the woman,--missed her, and staggered into the middle of the room. Here he encountered the stern glance of George Aspel. Being a dark, stern man himself, with a bulky powerful frame, he rather rejoiced in the sight of a man who seemed a worthy foe.

"What d'ee wan' here, you long-legged--hah! would you?" he added, on observing Aspel's face flush and his fists close, "Take that!"

He struck out at his adversary's face with tremendous violence. Aspel parried the blow and returned it with such good-will that Abel Bones went headlong into the dark corner whence he had risen,--and lay there.

"I'm _very_ sorry," said the instantly-repentant George, turning to Mrs Bones, "but I couldn't help it; really, I--"

"There, there; go away, sir, and thank you kindly," said the unfortunate woman, urging--almost pushing--her visitor towards the door. "It'll do 'im good, p'r'aps. He don't get that every day, an' it won't 'urt 'im."

Aspel found himself suddenly in the dark passage, and heard the door slammed. His first impulse was to turn, dash in the door with his foot, and take vengeance on Abel Bones, his next to burst into a sardonic laugh. Thereafter he frowned fiercely, and strode away. In doing so he drew himself up with sea-king-like dignity and assaulted a beam, which all but crushed his hat over his eyes. This did not improve his temper, but the beer had not yet robbed him of all self-control; he stooped to conquer and emerged into the street.

Well was it for George Aspel that his blow had been such an effective one, for if a riot with Bones had followed the blow, there were numerous kindred spirits there who would have been only too glad to aid their chum, and the intruder would have fared badly among them, despite his physical powers. As it was, he soon regained a respectable thoroughfare, and hastened away in the direction of his lodgings.

But a dark frown clouded his brow, for as he went along his thoughts were busy with what he believed to be the insolent pride of Sir James Clubley. He also thought of May Maylands, and the resolution with which she so firmly yet so gently repelled him. The latter thought wounded his pride as well as his feelings deeply. While in this mood the spirit of the sea-kings arose within him once again. He entered a public-house and had another pot of beer. It was very refreshing--remarkably so! True, the tall and stalwart young frame of George Aspel needed no refreshment at the time, and he would have scorned the insinuation that he _required_ anything to support him--but--but--it was decidedly refreshing! There could be no doubt whatever about that, and it induced him to take a more amiable view of men in general--of "poor Abel Bones" in particular. He even felt less savagely disposed towards Sir James, though he by no means forgave him, but made up his mind finally to have nothing more to do with him, while as to May--hope told him flattering tales.

At this point in his walk he was attracted by one of those traps to catch the unwary, which are so numerous in London--a music-hall. George knew not what it was, and cared not. It was a place of public entertainment: that was enough for him. He wanted entertainment, and in he went.

It is not our purpose to describe this place. Enough is told when we have said that there were dazzling lights and gorgeous scenes, and much music, and many other things to amuse. There were also many gentlemen, but--no ladies. There was also much smoking and drinking.

Aspel soon observed that he was expected either to drink or smoke. He did not wish to do either, but, disliking singularity, ordered a cigar and a glass of brandy-and-water. These were followed by another cigar and another glass. Towards midnight he had reached that condition when drink stimulates the desire for more drink. Being aware, from former experience, of the danger of this condition, and being, as we have said, a man of some strength of will, he rose to go.

At the moment a half-tipsy man at the little table next him carelessly flung the end of his cigar away. It alighted, probably by accident, on the top of Aspel's head.

"Hallo, sir!" shouted the enraged youth, starting up and seizing the man by his collar.

"Hallo, sir!" echoed the man, who had reached his pugnacious cups, "let go."

He struck out at the same moment. Aspel would have parried the blow, but his arm had been seized by one of the bystanders, and it took effect on his nose, which instantly sent a red stream over his mouth and down the front of his shirt.

Good-humour and kindliness usually served Aspel in the place of principle. Remove these qualities temporarily, and he became an unguarded savage--sometimes a roaring lion.

With a shout that suspended the entertainments and drew the attention of the whole house, he seized his adversary, lifted him in the air, and would infallibly have dashed him on the floor if he had not been caught in the arms of the crowd. As it was, the offender went down, carrying half-a-dozen friends and a couple of tables with their glasses along with him.

Aspel was prevented from doing more mischief by three powerful policemen, who seized him from behind and led him into the passage. There a noisy explanation took place, which gave the offender time to cool and reflect on his madness. On his talking quietly to the policemen, and readily paying for the damage he had done, he was allowed to go free. Descending the stair to the street, where the glare of the entrance-lamps fell full upon him, he felt a sudden sensation of faintness, caused by the combination of cold air, excitement, drink, and smoke. Seizing the railings with one hand, he stood for a moment with his eyes shut.

Re-opening them, and gazing stupidly before him, he encountered the horrified gaze of May Maylands! She had been spending the evening with Miss Lillycrop, and was on her way home, escorted by Solomon Flint.

"Come along, Miss May," said Solomon, "don't be afraid of 'im. He can't 'urt you--too far gone for that, bless you. Come on."

May yielded, and was out of sight in a moment.

Filled with horror, despair, madness,