The preacher put his hat on the floor, silently drew a chair towards Mattie, and then sat down close to her side. Ann Packet, from the distance watched them both—saw in an instant the likeness between them, as they sat thus. Both had sharp black eyes, dark hair, thin noses; the general expression of features was the same, harsher and more prominent in the man; and, therefore, rendering him far from a being whose good looks were apparent.
"Your name is Mattie?—you were at Mr. Wesden's for some years?—he adopted you—he took you from the streets?—previous to his kindness, you were living, off and on, at a Mrs. Watts' of Kent Street, Southwark, where your mother died?"
"Yes," answered Mattie.
"The woman who died in Kent Street, Southwark, was my wife. She and I started in life together happily enough, till she took to drink—oh! the drink! the drink!—and then home became a misery, and we quarrelled very much, and I took to drink myself. I lost my place through drink, and laid the fault to her—we quarrelled worse than ever, as we became poorer and more wretched; I struck her, fought with her, acted the brute until she ran away from me, taking you with her, then but a year old. I did not seek to find her out—I let her go to ruin, and went my own way to ruin myself, until rescued by a miracle—by a good man, whom God sent in my way to amend my life, and teach me all the truths which I had neglected. He found me work again; he raised me from the brute into the man; he altered me body and soul, and when he died, it struck me that I might follow in his steps, and do good unto others, after his example. I was not an unlearned man in all respects; I fancied that I might do good by an effort—there is no doing good without one—and I made the attempt. When I was rewarded by my first convert, Mattie, that was my encouragement," he said, rising with the earnestness of his topic, sitting down again, and flinging his arms wildly about; "that was my incentive to go on, to save fresh souls from the danger, to struggle in the by-ways of life, for the light which the evil one would for ever shut from us. And I was rewarded for the effort; I have done good; I have spent the last sixteen years of my life in the good cause!"
"You are a minister."
"A local preacher—wandering from place to place, as my employers dictate—occasionally proceeding on my own route; for ever astir, and letting not the sun go down upon my idleness. And all this, while I have been in search of you—tracking your mother at last to Kent Street, and following on your track, until I am rewarded thus!"
He held forth his hand, and Mattie placed hers within it.
"I think that you are my father," she said; "I am glad to find some one to care for me at last."
"And you will care for me?—for I have been a lonely man in the world for many years, and would make atonement for the evil act which cast you to the streets! But Mattie, look at me!"
Mattie regarded him long and steadfastly. It was a strange, hard-featured face, on which was impressed firmness, or obduracy, and little else; but she felt that he was to be trusted and believed.