I stood before him, gazing into his face like one in a dream. There was a downright earnestness in his face which could not be mistaken. He was no longer acting a part, but really meant what he said. Nor could I doubt but that letter had wrought this sudden change in my favour. Where, now, was all my high-souled resolutions? Human nature prevailed, and I yielded to the temptation. There sat Robert Moncton, gazing complacently upon me, from beneath those stern, dark brows, his glittering eyes no longer freezing me with their icy shine, but regarding me with a calm, approving smile: no longer the evil genius of my childhood, but a munificent spirit intent to do me good.
Ah, I was young—very young, and the world in my narrow circle had dealt hardly with me. I longed for freedom, for emancipation from constant toil. This must plead an excuse for my criminal weakness.
Years of painful experience, in the ways and wiles of men, had not as yet perfected the painful lesson taught me in after-years. Young, ardent, and willing to believe the best I could of my species, I began to think that I alone had been to blame; that I had wronged my uncle, and thrust upon his shoulders the burden of injuries which I had received from his son.
The evil influence of that son had been removed, and he was now willing to be my friend; and I determined to bury the past in oblivion, and to believe him really and truly so.
I shook him warmly by the hand, and entreated his forgiveness for the hard thoughts I had entertained, and thanked him sincerely for his offers of service.
The light faded from his eye. He looked gloomily, almost sadly into my face, glowing, as it must have been, with generous emotions, marvelling doubtlessly at my credulity.
Mr. Moncton up to this period had resided in the house which contained his office; the basement having been appropriated entirely for that purpose, while the family occupied the floors above. My uncle seldom received visitors, excepting at those times when Theophilus returned from college. To these parties, I as a matter of course had never been admitted. My uncle's evenings were spent abroad, but I was unacquainted with his habits, and totally ignorant of his haunts.
Judge then, of my surprise and satisfaction when informed by Mr. Moncton, that he had purchased a handsome house in Grosvenor Street, and that we were to remove thither. The office was still to be retained in Hatton Garden, but my hours of attendance were not to commence before ten in the morning; and were to terminate at four in the afternoon.
I had lived the larger portion of my life in great, smoky London, and had never visited the west end of the town. The change in my prospects was truly delightful. I was transported as if by magic from my low, dingy, ill-ventilated garret, to a well-appointed room on the second story of an elegantly furnished house in an airy, fashionable part of the town; the apartment provided for my especial benefit, containing all the luxuries and comforts which modern refinement has rendered indispensable.
A small, but well-selected library crowned the whole.