END OF BOOK THE FOURTH.
BOOK V.
STORM SIGNALS.
CHAPTER I.
CAST DOWN.
Meanwhile Mattie, the stray, must absorb our attention for awhile. In following the fortunes of the Hinchfords, we have omitted to watch closely the progress of our heroine. Yes, our heroine—if we have not called attention to that fact before—and with many first-class "heroinical" qualities, which would do credit to the high-born damsels of our old-fashioned novels. She had been heroine enough to make a sacrifice for Harriet Wesden; to take an unfair share of blame for Harriet's sake, and, therefore, she ranks as "first-lady" in this romance of business-life. She had made the sacrifice of her good name—for it amounted to that—with a sharp struggle; but then she would have given up her life for those to whom her better nature had taught her to be grateful. The girl's love for all who had rescued her from the evil of the past was ever intense, led her to strange actions, kept her hovering in the distance round the friends she had had once. Hers was a nature strangely susceptible to affection, and that affection was not uprooted because ill-report set its stigma upon her. Hers was a forgiving nature, also, and she thought even kindly of Mr. Wesden when the first shock was over, and she had judged him by that true character which she understood so well.
In her new estate Mattie was not happy; she was alone in the world, and we know that she was partial to society, and not always disinclined to hear the sound of her own musical voice. But she was not disconsolate; she made the best of her bad bargain, and set to work, in her humble way, with something of that doggedness of purpose, for which her friend Sidney was remarkable. She had struggled hard for a living, but had never given way. She had met obstacles in her path, which would have crushed the energy out of most women, but which she surmounted, not without wounds and loss of strength, and even health, and then went on again. She was matter-of-fact and honest, and those who had doubted her at first—for she had chosen her dwelling-place but a very little way from Great Suffolk Street, and the rumours of a lying tongue followed her, and set her neighbours and fellow-lodgers against her—soon understood her, for the poor are great observers and good judges of character.
In the poor neighbourhood wherein she had settled down, she asked for advice as to the best method of leading an honest life, and received it from her landlady. She turned dress-maker, and when customers came not with a grand rush to Tenchester Street, she asked if she might learn her landlady's business, artificial flower-making, and offered her services gratuitously, until it pleased her mistress to see that she was the handiest "help" she possessed. Then her health failed, for she worked hard, lived hard, and had hard thoughts to contend with; and when the doctor told her sedentary pursuits would not agree with her, she went a step lower for awhile, and even sold play-bills at the doors of a minor theatre to keep the wolf from her door.