The sudden turn in the conversation roused Sophy from her despair. Painful as were her recollections, it was a relief to her to pour out her sorrows into a sympathising ear, and even the past, sad, as it was, appeared less gloomy than the present, less terrible than the future! Persis quietly seated herself on the bed next to Sophy's and it is probable that the poor girl altogether forgot the presence of the stranger, as, leaning her head on Norah's shoulder, she began her tale of woe.
[CHAPTER V.]
SOPHY'S TALE.
"You remember that night, I can never forget it, when you refused to go with me to the entertainment, as I had tempted you to do? When you closed your mistress's door, and I found myself alone in the street, oh! How angry I felt, how I vowed to make you repent having dared to think of your duty instead of my pleasure and your own! I hastily joined my other companions, and we went together to the conjuror's show. We were very merry, I remember, we were full of joking and nonsense; only my father—he too was there—looked more fidgety and uneasy than I had ever seen him before. I thought that maybe he was not well; I did not guess what cause he had to be restless. Presently my father rose from his seat,—we were closely packed on the benches, and I was sitting beside him. He muttered something about the heat; and indeed what with the gas and the crowding, I didn't wonder if he felt a bit faint. He pushed his way out as well as he could, and as I looked after him I caught sight, just at the door, of a man who'd come from London, and who had had business with my father, what business I could not tell, but you know it all came out at the trial. He'd led my poor father into the trouble which, which—" The convict's daughter could not finish the sentence, a hot flush overspread her face, and Norah felt almost as uncomfortable as if the shame had been her own.
"I believe," continued Sophy, "that that man had made some sign to my father that the police were on the scent, and that was the reason why he left the place in such haste. You know," she lowered her voice, "that my poor father was taken up that night, and I never saw him again!"
"And you?" asked Norah, anxious to break the painful pause which followed.
"I went home when all was over, quite merry and jolly, to the lodging where you know that we used to live, my father and I; for though I worked for Miss Cobb, I never slept at her house. I went to sleep as light-hearted as could be, never dreaming what a terrible waking was a-coming. Wasn't I startled and frightened when Mrs. Smith—she was our landlady you know—burst suddenly into my little room in the morning, all full of excitement, and talking so loud and fast, that I could hardly make out her meaning at first. 'Twas a shameful thing, she cried, a disgraceful thing, that a respectable house like hers should be a harbour for thieves and forgers; the like had never happened afore, and she'd take precious care, she would, that it never should happen again. To think of the police a-coming to her door, and searching for false money on her premises! She bade me get up and dress, as she might have spoken to a dog, and set me all in a tremble by what she told me had happened to my father. Then there was a search—oh, dear! oh, dear!" Sophy shuddered at the recollection; "my boxes turned inside out, and the drawers—"
"But there was nothing against you?" interrupted Norah.
"Not bad money, but—but—lots of scraps of silk that I had cribbed from Miss Cobb; I always took such trifles as I could lay hands on, bits of gimp, and ribbon, and lace, and there were two pocket handkerchiefs of Mrs. Smith's—oh! wasn't she in a rage when she saw them; she called me such names—I can't repeat them—and threatened to give me over to the police!"
"How dreadful, how very dreadful!" exclaimed Norah, remembering with shame and remorse the time when she herself had hardly thought it wrong to take such trifles as she hoped would never be missed.