"We live as we can," answered the man, sullenly.
"Well, my good fellow," said Mr. Ware, kindly, "make another effort, and do not sit down here idle all day. I hear that Colonel Hargrave is coming to England shortly, if, indeed, he is not already here."
"We have heard that so often," growled Martin, "that we cannot put any faith in it. He'll never come to do us any good, I reckon."
Mr. Ware offered him a little more advice as to exerting himself, and then, with a small gratuity to his wife, left the cottage with his nephew.
"He is a notorious poacher," said he, as they walked on, "and his excuse is, if they do not give us our own money, we must take an equivalent. It is difficult to preach while poverty and starvation are opposed to the maxims we would wish to inculcate. I wish something could make the Colonel believe the actual state of things; but I do sometimes fear he entirely forgets us. In that neat-looking dwelling," he continued, after a pause, "lives a woman, who has hitherto obtained her livelihood by supplying the poor inhabitants with bread and other necessaries; for some months past, however, Rogers, the bailiff, has found excuses to withhold the wages from most of the workmen engaged in repairing the premises at Aston, and they have been obliged to live upon credit, which this poor woman has been persuaded to give them—in consequence, she tells me, she is nearly ruined; and from the confusion in which her money matters stand, she has fallen quite into a state of melancholy. I went to her yesterday, so that I will not ask you to see her to-day; but we will come in here," he said, at the same time lifting the latch of a door, which opened into a small room, more like some hovel, attached to a tenement which contained several families.
It was a wretched-looking place, and Clair could scarcely suppress a shudder as he entered it. It was but badly lighted from a broken window; an old piece of furniture served, at once, for a table and a sort of cupboard; two chairs, and a stool, completed the furniture, with the exception of a shelf, on which the poverty of the house was displayed, in half a loaf of bread which rested on it. Here an old man sat by the smouldering embers of a wood fire, holding his hands as close to it as possible, as if he hoped to find comfort in the miserable heat it afforded, for his thin hands looked cold, though it was still early in autumn. He welcomed them with pleasure, and offered his two chairs to the gentlemen with ready alacrity, taking possession of the stool for himself.
While Mr. Ware continued talking to the old man, Clair gave a searching glance round the poor dwelling, and trembled to think how the cold December wind would whistle through the old window; but when he thought of asking some questions concerning it, he was checked, by hearing the two old men discourse with such apparent ease and cordiality, as if they had entirely forgotten where they were.
"Is it really possible, sir," said he, when they had left, "that nothing can be done for that poor old man?"
"I fear nothing can be done," returned Mr. Ware, "unless we can persuade Hargrave to return to us."
"But how," enquired Clair, "would his coming remedy the evil."