In this and other ways he drew the mesh round Lily's brother, until he had the infatuated gambler completely at his mercy.
[CHAPTER XXXII.]
THE POLISH JEW.
A remarkable change had taken place in Mr. Musgrave, dating almost from the day on which he took possession of Ivy Cottage. Those who had known him when he lived in his garret and bought gin on the sly, and who knew him now, were amazed at the transformation; for it was nothing less. The vice that appeared to have been so bred in his bone as to be ineradicable had disappeared. He drank no more. Whether he considered it was due to his altered position, whether it was from gratitude or fear, or from whatever other unknown cause, it is certain that the respectable old man known now as Mr. Musgrave, and the disreputable tippler known some months since as old Muzzy, were distinctly different types. The change really commenced within the first fortnight of his residence in Ivy Cottage. Within this time, Lily and Alfred had come by invitation to take tea with Lizzie and spend the evening with her. The young people were in good spirits, and Mr. Musgrave sat in his corner listening to their light-hearted chatting. In the course of the evening Lily sang two or three old-fashioned simple songs, and altogether the time was a happy one. Then Mr. Sheldrake dropped in, and whatever little part Mr. Musgrave had played in the proceedings was over from that moment. But when Lily and Alfred were going home, Mr. Musgrave, with hands that trembled from eagerness, held Lily's mantle for her, and pressed her hands, and said that she had made him young again, and that he had spent the happiest evening he had spent for years. He entreated her to come again, and to come often, and she said gaily she intended to, for Lizzie and she were sisters already. When they were gone--Mr. Sheldrake accompanied Lily and Alfred home--Mr. Musgrave and Lizzie sat up for a little while talking, and he told her how pleased he was she had made such a friend. That night when he went to his bedroom, he took from a place of concealment two time-honoured friends--to wit, two flat bottles, in which he had been in the habit of carrying away his gin from the public-house. With these under his arm he stole down to the garden, and hurled them over the wall as far as his strength would allow him, thus bidding good-bye to them. On that night before he retired to rest, he knelt by his bedside for the first time for many, many years, and thought, if he did not say, a prayer.
Mr. Sheldrake noticed a change in him, and commented on it.
"Why, Muzzy," he said, "you have grown quite respectable."
"I hope it does not displease you, sir," was Mr. Musgrave's reply.
"No, indeed," said Mr. Sheldrake; "it is a compliment to me, for I think I have had something to do with it."
"Yes, sir, you have."
Mr. Sheldrake clapped him on the shoulder.