"I don't know. I dare say, once upon a time, I should have thought I was mad if such ideas as I have now had entered my head. I wasn't always so rough as I am now. But cities are necessary, I suppose; and it's folly to talk as I do. Why, I don't doubt that in less than fifty years a city will be built even here in these wild woods; and perhaps on this very spot where we now sit they'll build a prison." He speaks these last words with a dash of bitterness: but he soon shakes off his cynical humor, and proceeds to speak of more important matters concerning the present. "Be especially careful of one thing," he concludes, "never by any chance let them see your accordion." (Joshua had it slung round his shoulders, wrapped in a bag of fur which Minnie had made for it.) "When you play, let the natives hear the music, not see where it comes from. By that means you will best preserve your influence and Minnie's over them. And bear in mind--work southward."
Here two natives make their appearance, and after looking attentively at the white people, glide away quietly.
"'Tis time to go," says Rough-and-Ready, jumping to his feet; "that is their delicate way of telling us that they are waiting." Minnie, with streaming eyes, raises her face to his. He stoops and kisses her, and says tenderly, "God bless and protect you, my dear!" The four of them shake hands sorrowfully, and part--never again to meet on earth. So Rough-and-Ready and Tom the sailmaker disappear from the yearning gaze of their friends, and from this story; and Joshua and Minnie are left thus strangely alone.
CHAPTER XXXVII.
HARSH JUDGMENTS.
The foundering of the "Merry Andrew" and the loss of every soul on board were duly recorded in the newspapers, and utterly shattered the happiness of that humble home in Stepney wherein love and content had dwelt for so many years. If Mrs. Marvel's daughter Sarah, who has played an insignificant part in this history, had been at home, unmarried, her parents might have derived relief and consolation in watching the progress of her fortunes; but Sarah had had the rare good fortune to be quickly wooed and quickly won by a country mechanic, and her subsequent career has nothing in common with these pages. So that Mr. and Mrs. Marvel were left alone in their unhappy position. They could not bear to live longer in the house in which Joshua had been born and reared, and they agreed to Dan's proposition, that they should move, and live with him and his sisters. What added to their unhappiness was, that they were at war with every one of their neighbors. When the news of the loss of the "Merry Andrew" reached Stepney, the neighbors one and all decided that Joshua was guilty, and many of them declared that the punishment which had overtaken him was a just visitation. To listen to this in silence seemed to Joshua's family to be nothing less than flat treason; they fought stoutly and earnestly against the calumny, and defended the character of their lost son with all the strength of their loving hearts. But vainly. The neighbors persisted in their belief until George Marvel gave out that if he caught any man speaking against the dead, he would thrash him. He had not long to wait to give effect to his words. He came home one day with a black eye and a bruised face. "I've been fighting Bob Turner," he said in explanation, "for taking away our Josh's good name." Now Bob Turner was a favorite in the neighborhood, and the cause in which he received a drubbing was not his alone, but all his neighbors' as well. Was free and fair speech to be burked by such an obstinate and opinionated old fellow as George Marvel? Were they to be deprived of their legitimate privilege of gossiping and tittle-tattling? Things had come to a pretty pass, when a man was to be allowed to bully all his neighbors because they wouldn't agree with him. The fight between Bob Turner and George Marvel was an exciting topic of conversation in every house for a dozen streets round; and a unanimous verdict was given in favor of Bob Turner, who was looked upon in some sort of way as the general champion of the important privilege of Tittle-tattle. Much sympathy was expressed for him, inasmuch as he had been taken home after the fight with a battered nose and bunged-up eyes, and could not go to his work for a week afterwards. During that week George Marvel thrashed another man, and called a woman unpleasant names; and when the woman's husband demanded an explanation, he received one of such a nature as to convert him instantly into an active enemy. Then Bob Turner, convalescent, made his appearance in the streets again, with traces of disfigurement in his face; and burning with animosity and shame, armed himself with a stone tied in the corner of his pocket-handkerchief, and, swinging his sling defiantly, expressed his regret that Joshua had been drowned, for thereby the gallows had been cheated. George Marvel, hearing this, went in search of his enemy Bob, and came away again with his hand so disabled by a blow from the sling, that he also could not work for a week. At which Bob Turner rejoiced, and all the neighbors rejoiced with him. After that George Marvel refused to speak to any of his work-mates, and they, in retaliation, passed a resolution sending him to "Coventry" for six months; which sending to "Coventry" may, to the uninitiated, be described as the very refinement of cruelty, inasmuch as it ignores the offender's existence, and condemns him not to be spoken to by any of his fellow-workmen. This enforced silence was a dreadful punishment to George Marvel. He bore it patiently enough for two or three weeks; but then it became a horrible torture. To sit at his work day after day, and week after week, uttering no word, and with his work-mates avoiding his very look, was almost maddening. It drove him to something which I am sorry to have to record; it drove him to drink. And the habit that began to grow upon him was of the worst kind. Having no one to drink with him, he drank by himself, and soon began to carry a flat bottle in his pocket, liberally supplied with that national curse--Gin.
Although it may be objected of George Marvel that in his behavior towards his neighbors he carried things with too high a hand, he acted only in strict accordance with his nature; and indeed, if he had been less dictatorial and more conciliatory it is likely that the same result mould have been produced. It was not to be expected of him to be gentle and self-suffering under the dreadful accusation that was brought against his son, when Mrs. Marvel's conduct was taken into consideration. She could not listen patiently to the revilings of the neighbors; to remonstrate with them, to speak gently to them, to beg of them to be more merciful in their speech, would have been an injustice to the memory of her son. Every tender remembrance connected with him--and ah, how many there were, and how she cherished them!--urged her to defend him. And she did defend him, with all her mother's love, and with flaming eyes and agitated breast; told the revilers that they ought to be ashamed of themselves, and that they must be bad and wicked themselves, else they could not set their tongues to such bad and wicked accusations of the best son that ever blessed a mother's eyes. Poor thing! it was a sad sight to see her make her indignant defence in public, and then to see her in her room--pale, powerless, trembling--sink into a chair, overcome by the agony of her grief. It was not long before white hairs began to multiply, and before the cheerful look quite died out of her face. And Dan and Ellen worked on, and never lost their faith in the dear one who was lost to them; and Susan, notwithstanding what had befallen, still watched and rose in the night, and went into the street, awaiting the return of Basil Kindred's murderer. But no word of him passed her lips; she worked at her dressmaking in silence, and never uttered a cheerful word. A blight had fallen upon those once happy homes.
They had, however, two friends and constant visitors, Praiseworthy Meddler and Solomon Fewster. Through good and evil report, these two friends remained faithful to Them, although from widely-different motives. Considering all the circumstances, every thing had turned out very fortunate for Solomon Fewster. He confessed as much to himself exultantly, and curiously enough, gave himself some credit for having brought it about. Every tittle of evidence against him had been destroyed; no suspicion rested against him. Joshua was drowned; and Ellen remained, looking prettier in her black dress than he had ever seen her. He was sure of her now. He had only to wait. She had an encumbrance, certainly, which he would gladly have dispensed with--her baby-girl, born in sorrow. But he made up his mind that he would be kind to her, if she lived; and this resolve, to his own thinking, atoned for any hand he may have had in Joshua's misfortunes. When he saw Ellen with her baby in her lap, he thought, and thought rightly, that he had never seen a more beautiful sight. "One day," he said to himself, "I shall see her with a child of mine upon her breast;" and he dreamed with tender pleasure, and with no pangs of conscience, of the happy time to come.
So time passed on, and no ray of sunshine illumined the darkness of that unhappy home. Things were going from bad to worse. George Marvel was not a confirmed drunkard, but he drank more than was good for him; and his reputation as a cunning workman was on the wane. He did not work regularly either; he was often absent, and earned less money. His wife expostulated with him many times, and begged him not to drink. He listened without impatience, and said, "It's of no use, Maggie; if I didn't drink I should go mad. I'm an altered man to what I was, and I've brought it all on myself."
"Nay, George," she said, "you cannot say that and mean it."