Peter Garnet's Great Sorrow.
HOUSEHOLD WORDS. (Concluded.) Longbeforo evening the news had spread through Broughton that Peter Garnet—that man familiar to every eye, and dear to every poor man soul's heart, in all the town—had ceased to be master at Old Saint Ann's. Oh, how Liversedge bemoaned herself. He'd been such a kind friend to her an' hers; he'd been the making of Mark, and what should she do without him? There were hundreds of young men—ay, and fathers of families, too—who had been Saint Ann's boys, and they would hardly believe it. He dismissed for making away with money I There must be a mistake somewhere ; but it was not he ■who made the mistake they were sure I Old master—as they still fondly called him—was honest and true to the backbone ! Mark Liversedge spoke out bravely for him, too, at Downham's hank, and in the market place, and at the Mechanics' institute, thereby giving great offence to Lawyer Hartop ; but Mark loved Alice, and, I hope, this solitary gratuitous act of kindness may weigh very heavily in the balance against his long after life of hardness and hypocrisy. Amongst others, Richard Preston learnt the bad news, and his first impulse was to go straight'to the gateway and see Alice. Leaving the wagon under the charge of a carter belonging to a Fordham farmer, he hastened thither, and found both her and Peter busy packing up. Peter received him more kindly than usual—for'a friendly act is not to be scouted by a man in disgrace—and Alice gave him a sweet look of gratitude. m
"You must not be downcast, master; for, from the biggest to the littlest of us, there's not one of us credits a word agen you," said he. "I • am not downcast, Richard ; if I were a guilty man I should be downcast enough; but innocence can bear a great deal.**
Poor Peter spoke in a tragedy sort of way, as Richard afterwards said; but it was not to make an impression so much as to keep down the great anguish that was crying aloud at his heart. Alice was very white and tearful. It seemed such a cruel shame to treat her good old father in that way—the governors ought to be ashamed of themselves, she said. And be sure Richard Preston agreed with her. " Where are we to go, father, when we have packed up what belongs to us? Have you ever thought of that ?" she asked, pausing with a pile of_ dusty volumes between her hands and chin.
" Where are we to go ?" echoed Peter, helplessly ; " Where are we to go, Alice ? I am sure I can't tell where we are to go." "You'll come to Fordham with me, master. My sister Jane'll make .you welcome, 1 know, and we have room enough—say you will," exclaimed Richard, eagerly ; " it's a real pretty cottage, Alice —flowers and apple trees, and .1 can't tell yon what all." Alice blushed, and said she knew it was. She had often thought it the prettiest cottage in Fordham;' but she must not go so far away from the town, she must stay within reach of her customers. Peter went on with his packing and left them to settle it. He began to change his mind about Richard Preston now, and to think that lie was a generous young fellow, if he was not a gentleman. So lie took no notice of the whispering in the window or of the strong arm round Alice's pretty waist. "Jane is going to be married, and I shall have nobody to take care of me unless you will, Alice," Richard was saying coaxingly ; " the master could live with us, and we should all be so happy together you can't think." " Yes I can, Richard ; but 1 don't think 1 ought just now," replied Alice, softly ; "I always said, you know, that it could not be yet—l would rather wait until my father is cleared—you might not like to hear it talked about after."
" Let nobody tlaro to say one word agen old master to me !" cried Richard ; " I'd knock liim down straight! Come Alice, don't be liard ; what is to become of me without any womankind at home when Jane's gone ?" " Richard, dear, will you please say no more about it now?" said Alice, looking up at him with swimming blue eyes ; " I have, so much come upon mo all at once, that vou must not be impatient with me."
"Don't look at me so pitiful, then, or I shall go on saying'it all the more. I can't help myself, Alice." And he lif led up her sorrowful' face and kissed it. "If• it bothers you, darling, I'll be quiet now ; but I can't and I shan't bo quiet long. Don't cry." This exhortation produced a sob, and another, and finally, a great outbreak of tears;' in which Richard, was fain to comfort her with sweet words. Poor old Peter stood aghast. When the paroxysm was over, the master asked Richard if lie had better not go ; and when he had heard Alice scold herself for her folly, Richard said he thought he had. " And I'll go and see if my Aunt Deane can take you in to lodge. I think she can," he said. This was a grand relief to both father and daughter, and away ho went. Aunt Deane kept a greengrocer's shop directly opposite to St Paul's Church. She was a widow woman without any children, and drove a very good business in a small way. She had three empty rooms, which she would be glad to let for a trifle to anybody bringing their own furniture. So, what did Richard do, but rush off to a friend of his, a cabinet-maker, and bade him put into the room nil that was needful; including a magnificent chest of drawers ; for, said ho to himself, when Alice comes to Fordham she shall have things neat and new, and I might as well buy 'em now ; Uncle Tom's legacy will pay all. He bargained with Aunt Deane not to betray him, and then went back to the gateway, and told Alice where he had found lodgings, and that they would be quite ready to go into next day. Alice had gone down to meet him, and thanked him for his kindness after a very pleasant fashion, and Richard—as happy as a king—whistled his way back to his forsaken wagon, and went home to Fordham rejoicing. Mark Liversedge did not come that night. Perhaps he thought he was doing his old master moro good by defending him in public places than intruding to offer private sympathy. Alice congratulated herself on his staying away; but poor old Peter took it sorely to heart, and said he had thought better of Mark than that; but it didn't matter —nothing mattered now. tie kept up very well until it was dark, and Alice was putting out the supper ; then some slight remark of hers, that this was the last time she should need do it there, quite overset him ; and, dropping his head upon the table, the old man cried like a child, murmuring between his Sobs~
" After all these forty years to be turned off for a thief! All these forty years!' ' Alice knelt at his side, with her arm round his neck, and cried with him.
Alice and her father were settled at Mrs Deane's. opposite the church, and Broughton had aluio3t ceased to talk about the master's dismissal (exceptonSunrlay mornings, when the conceited young jackanapes, his successor, had affronted its sense of pedagogical deportment by his airs and graces), when ono day Peggie Hartop called at the greengrocer's shop in a very peculiar state of Hurry and excitement. She had held honestly to Alice in her misfortunes, and now she came to give her a splenrlid order. Alice and her father were in their little parlour—such a poor insignificant little room it looked after the grand old gateway ! Alice at work very hard, as usual, and Peter getting up an antiquarian article for the Bronghton Weekly- Advertiser, which, after warmly advocating his cause in its columns, had given him a little to do in the way of correcting proofs, and occasionally filling a spare half-column when there was a dearth of news.
■' Let. us go into your room, Alice," suggested Peggie, breathlessly, and with, a glance at the absorbed Peter; so Alice rose, dropped her sewing, and led the way to her sanctum. -
Peggy plumped down there, in her glory of flounce and feather, full into the midst of the little white bed, manifesting a kittenish vivacity which ought to have been defunct in her twenty years before at least. Alice wondered what ailed her.
" You will never guess what brought me here to-day, Alice, so I'll tell you ; I am going to be married !" " To Mr Mark Liversedge ?" said Alice.
" Yes, and I want you to maitc me my wedding-bonnet; you have so much taste."
"I shall be very glad,l'm sure; I always thought I should have to make it," Alice said, with intense glee : " I have not seen Mr Mark Liversedge since we came here ; but will you. tell him I congratulate him heartily upon his good fortune ? " " Yes, I'll tell him ; I dare say he will be very much obliged to you ; you are a kind little creature, Alice, to forgive his leaving you—l know." " Well, then, Miss Hartop, if yon do know, I don't miud telling you that there never was any chance of my liking him ; because Hiked somebody else first; you are much better, suited to him than ever I should have been/' said Alice. " So he thinks now, and, of course, I am," replied Peggie with an air of superiority ; " now, let us talk about the bonnet."
So they talked about the bonnet, and settled that; then, they talked about the wedding-dress, and settled that; then they talked about the travelling-dress, and settled that; and then they talked about all sorts of dresses to be worn at all sorts of times, and settled them, and came round to the bonnet again. " For," said Pcggio aententiously, " the bonnet is the crown of all, and if that looks pretty, the rest is of little cousequence." About three weeks after this interview (which was followed by almost daily inlcrviewson thesamc subject), Alice announced to her father one-morning at breakfast that it'was Miss Hartop's wedding-day, and she was going across to the church to seo her married. *
"If you look out of the window when you hear the carriages, you'll see her too, —she'll look beautiful, and so will Mark !" she added wickedly.
Peter winced whenever he heard the young man's name,; for, though Mark had spokou for liim out of doors, he had quite left off his pursuit of Alice. It would not do for a man in his position, who was sure to rise in the world, to have a connection like nthe dismissed schoolmaster, he had prudently reflected ; so, throwing love to the dogs, lie began to pay court to Peggy Hartop and her future money bags with much better success than he was ever likely to have had with pretty Alice Garnet.
On a blue-nosed December morning, half Broughton rushed to church to sec thein married. It was on the evening of this very wedding-day, while the bells at Saint Paul's were ringing merrily in honor thereof j that a little lad came up to Widow Deaue's with a message to Peter Garnet from the chaplain at theUuiou Workhouse, desiring that he would go there without delay, for Nanny Liverscdge was dying; and she could uot die easy without speaking to him.
Peter took his hat and stick, and Went away down the High-street at once. The old man did not walk so erect now as he used to do, and he had a humbler way with him ; but many was the friendly " Good evening," and " Glad to see you looking so brisk, master," which met him as he went.
Amongst those who had taken his dismissal from Old Saint Ann's very hardly, none had seemed to feel it so much as Nancy Liversedge : he had brought up her sons and grandsons, daughters and granddaughters, and had befriended her and advised her when others were- disgusted by her worthlessness; so that it was not remarkable that she should send for him at the last stage of oil. He was ushered into the ward where she lay, and found that Mr Elsworthy and the chaplain were waiting for his appearance, and that the old woman had not long to live. She recognized him, however, when he came to the bedside, and began to talk so much in her old canting way at first, that Peter was at a loss to know why she had sent for him ; but recollecting herself, suddenly, she cried out with vehemence :
"I've been a wicked woman, Peter Garnet, but the Lord's a-punishing me now. Willie'd no sooner got home again than he fell into fold ways, and they say he 11 be transoorted for what he's done last. But I shan't live to see it! You, Mr Elsworthy, an' you, Parson Smythe, is witness of what I'm saying—it was I stole the five-pound note out o' Peter Garnet's box at Old Saint Ann's, —I stole it to help to buy off poor Willie !" Peter Garnet lifted his poor bent head and said fervently, "I thank God! I thank God !"
'•' I'd gone to beg something of Alice, an' while she wont to fetch it, I saw t'box standing an' t' keys hanging in t' lock ; and, quick as thought, I'd opened it, and ta'en out one of t' notes. Lord forgivo me. It was for Willie I did it; nought else 'ud ha' tempted me." She began to whine and whimper, and slowly fell away into a state of unconsciousness, and so continued till she died, about two hours after.
" I knew we should see you restored, Peter Garnet," said Mr Elsworthy with a fervent grasp of the hand as they passed out into the street.
Peter's heart was so full that he could only repeat, " I thank God ! I thank God !" There was a keen wind blowing through the elms as he got back to Widow Deane'si and went up stairs. There, Richard Prston, all aglow with his cold walk from Fordham, was entertaining Alice. Directly they saw. him they knew what had happened. " Hurrah, old master, I said you'd come to honor and glory yet!" cried Richard with enthusiasm, and then he fell to kissing Alice in the most preposterous way,—the selfish fellow was thinking he should get somebody to take care of him now.
Peter sat down ; and, as soon as he could collect himself, lie told them how it was, and .Nanny Liversedge's confession ; and then they were all so surprised and vexed at themselves for never having suspected the old woman before,—it was so likely she'should have taken it! Alice recalled the extraordinary rapidity with which Mrs Hart had said the money had been raised to buy Willie's discharge, and she wondered how she could have been so stupid as to miss seeing the whole case at once.. After they had discussed it in all its bearings, and when the time for Richard to go home was come, he whispered.triumphantly to Alice: " Get your wedding-bonnet made. I am not going to wait more than a we;k longer!" While she was pouting her sweet lips to protest against such absurd impatience, he lifted her up in his strong arms and vowed he would run away with her that very minute if: she opened them to make any objection, and Peter was so changed from his old self that he said ; "And quite right too, Richard. She is over masterful by half." What could Alice'say ? If she tried to speak, Richard stopped her mouth and her father abetted him. Well, she resigned herself very happily to her fate; made her wedding-bonnet and wedding-gown, and married the miller's man that day week, —a very different bride from the one who had gone to church in the morning with clever Mark Liyersedgo. . Christmas-day at Old Saint Ann's was always kept with roast beef, plum-pudding, and all formalities of the season gently let down to the capacities of charity children. It was the greatest day in the year to them, and the boy and girl who was not happy then might give up all hope of being happy ever afterwards. There was -holly stuck all over the dining hall, and round the founder's picture; and there was spiced beer in mugs; and, besides the dinner, there were buns for tea,tmd kindred dissipations which no Saint Ann's scholar ever forgot the delights of. Well, (lie bells at Saint Paul's were ringing as the lads marched into the dining-hall, two-aud-two —one half of them thinking that all that rejoicing was over the roast beef and plum-pudding which they were going to eat. They had got into their places, and were all standing up, ready to
sing grace.at the word of command, when* lo! there was only an empty place at the head of'tbe table. But at that identical moment there appeared iu the doorway Mr Elsworthy, and close behind him Peter Garnet.
." Hurray," old master!" screamed a small, timid boy, who had cried dreadfully when he left home ; but who was now so horrified at his breach of discipline that ho began to subside into a whimper, for fear of consequences, until Mr Klsworthy advanced to the table, and said : "Old master it is, boys, come back to 'you ; give him a cheer—a good one!" It was a good one ; and the girls, in their room, heard it, and would have liked to shout tpo. Then the beef and pudding began ; after which Peter made his speech, and broke down, and,was cheered on, and broke down again, and finally gave it up as a useless trial, with a fervent "God bless 3-011 all, my boys !" It is five years this Christinas, since Peter Garnet was restored to his office of master at Old Saint Ann's, and the town gave him that handsome testimonial—fifty new sovereigns, in a crimson purse netted by the hands of Mrs Mark Liversedge herself. •
Mark will be mayor of Broughton some day.- Meantime, he works early and late in .his dingy office, and spins more money than'he can ever enjoy, and comes home to nightly repentance in a trim, stiff parlor, with a scarecrow wife; whose enjoyment it is to rail at him from her sofacorner, .and to ask him what he would have been if ho hadn't married her? Privately, Marks thinks he would have been much happier and quieter, but he daren't say so for the world. There are many men who quail before Mark ; but not one of them quails so abjectly as Mark does before his wife.
Alice is tho miller's man's delight, and the mother of three tidy boys; who will be millers, every one of them, to the last of the generation.
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Hawke's Bay Times, Issue 1580, 29 May 1874, Page 233
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3,198Peter Garnet's Great Sorrow. Hawke's Bay Times, Issue 1580, 29 May 1874, Page 233
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