Harriet, who had always taken Mattie's part to the verge of her own confession, answered warmly,
"No, we all acted very badly—very cruelly. When she comes again, as she will, I feel assured—I hope she will forgive us, father."
"Forgive us?"
Mr. Wesden had not arrived to that pitch of kind consideration yet, but Mattie's departure and long silence were troubles to him when he was left to think of the past, and of the business from which he had at last retired in earnest.
The shop had changed proprietors, and the Hinchfords, father and son, had removed their furniture from Mr. Wesden's first floor to a little house Camberwell way, also. A very small domicile had this careful couple decided upon for their suburban retreat—one of a row of houses that we may designate Chesterfield Terrace, and the rents of which were two-and-twenty pounds per annum.
Mr. Hinchford, we have already premised, had somewhat lofty notions, which adversity had kept in check, rather than subdued. The removal to Chesterfield Terrace was a blow to him. The rooms in Great Suffolk Street had been only borne with, scarcely resigned to; but though he had lived there many years, he had never considered himself as "settled down"—merely resting by the way, before he marched off to independence and the old Hinchford state. It had been a mythical dream, perhaps, until Sidney's star rose in the ascendant, and then he had quickly built his castles in the air, and bided his time more sanguinely. When that vision faded in its turn, the old gentleman was sorely tried; only his son's strategy in feigning to require consolation had turned him away from his own regrets to thoughts of how to make them less light for—the BOY.
But 34, Chesterfield Terrace, Chesterfield Road, Camberwell New Road, was a blow to him. The air was fresher than in Great Suffolk Street, the large market gardens at the back of his house were pleasant in all seasons, except the cabbage season; there were three bed-rooms, two parlours, a wash-house at the back, and a long strip of garden, constituting a house and premises that were solely and wholly theirs, and entitled them to the glorious privilege of electing a member for incorruptible Lambeth; but the change was not all that Mr. Hinchford had looked forward to for so many years, and he grew despondent, and fancied that it could never be better now.
The Hinchfords had taken into their service Ann Packet, of workhouse origin, and undiscoverable parentage; she had pleaded to be constituted their servant, at any wages, or no wages at all, rather than at her time of life to be sent forth in search of fresh faces and new homes.
At this period, Mr. Wesden had required a servant also, and Ann Packet had begged Sidney Hinchford to engage her at once, before she should be asked to continue in the old service.
"What! tired of them?" Sidney had said with some surprise.