He left the room abruptly, unable to bear the thankful looks and tears of his friends. Besides which, he was almost unmanned at the thought of parting from them. They were the only friends he had in the world, as he had said; and when they were gone, he would be left lonely in his old age. The thought flashed across him to go with them, but he dismissed it at once. Not only was he too old to cross the seas, but he felt he could not leave his barge near the old Tower Stairs.
"I should be like a fish out of water," he thought; "and besides, I should only be an encumbrance to the poor souls. I shall be in my dotage soon, and they have troubles enough of their own. No; I'll stop and lay my bones in Old England."
So the faithful old soul set to work at once, and left himself with the very barest pittance to live on, in order to get together sufficient money for the necessities of his friends.
The news soon spread. Some of the neighbors said it was a good job they were going; some were envious; and a few repented of their harshness. These last went so far as to make slight advances towards Mr. and Mrs. Marvel. Mr. Marvel looked at them angrily, and responded with hard words; but his wife, a true peacemaker, was more conciliatory. When she remonstrated with him, and begged him to consider that they were sorry because they had concurred in the general verdict of condemnation of Joshua, he said,--
"Let be, Maggie; if they're sorry for what they've said about Josh, the more shame for them for hurting us as they did. You can do as you like; I sha'n't mind your shaking hands with them. But for me, I've said I'll never forgive them, and I never will." When Susan was told that they were going to Australia, her dull vacant face suddenly lit up.
"We shall be near him," she muttered; "near Minnie too. Poor Minnie! where is she?"
The next moment her old manner was upon her, and she relapsed into vacancy again.
But there was one by whom the news of their intended departure was received with a chill of angry despair. Solomon Fewster could scarcely believe it when he was told. He hurried to the house, blaming himself for his stupidity in trying to starve Ellen into acquiescence.
"This would never have come about," he thought, "if they had not been driven to it by necessity. I ought to have shown myself a greater friend than ever to Dan. Gratitude would have made Ellen love me."
To obtain Ellen's love had become a mania with him. The farther she was removed from him, the stronger grew his desire. "Perhaps it is not yet too late," he thought. He broke into Dan's room in feverish haste, and cried,--