Mr Harford came to see him, and found his recollections of old times reviving, when he had been Dame Verdon’s best scholar. “I could beat old George any day at his book. And, then, I was church singer, and had the solos,” he said, evidently thinking sadly of his better days. “And my wife, she was that tidy—only she did put too much on her back!”
The screen, which Judith had of late years kept with the panel with the laburnums on the back side, had by accident been now turned so that he saw them; and, when Mr Harford came the next day, he broke out—
“Them flowers! Them flowers, sir!”
Mr Harford could not understand.
“Them golden chains, sir. They was at the bottom of it.”
Mr Harford understood still less.
“They talk of devils’ chains, sir, and how they drags a man down. Them was a link, sure enough. That paper there, sir, I keeps seeing it at night by the rushlight, and they gets to look just like chains.”
Then Mr Harford understood that he meant the laburnums on the paper—golden chains, as they are often called.
“I was working with George,” he said, “before them Carbonels came, and when there was a piece of the parlour paper left over, I took it for a parkisit. I didn’t let George know; he always seemed too particular. ’Twas more than I had reckoned on; and one bit I papered Mrs Brown’s room, at Downhill, with; and one bit that was left my wife put on the screen. Then, when the captain made a work about it, I thought it was mean and shabby in him, and I never could lay my mind to him or his after that—special after Miss Sophy came and spied it out. I went agen ’em more and more, and all they wanted for the place; and it riled me the more that my lad should be took up with them and his aunt. And so the ill-will of it went on with me, worse and worserer. Molly, I say, take the devils’ chains away. They’ve got a hold of me.”
That was his delirious cry. Mr Harford prayed with him and for him, but never could tell how much was remorse and how much might be repentance. He was quieter as his strength failed, and his wife said he made a beautiful end, and that she was sure the Holy Name of the Saviour was on his lips, and Mr Harford trusted that she was right, with the charity that hopeth all things.