“Yes, yes. And what did you hear your mother say?”
“Oh, nothing particular. Only that when he was a young man, his hair was exactly like what mine is now.”
As those momentous words were spoken, the landlady knocked at the door, and announced that she was waiting outside with candles, and a nice cup of tea for the invalid. Mat let her into the bedchamber—then immediately walked out of it into the front room, and closed the folding-doors behind him. Brave as he was, he was afraid, at that moment, to let Zack see his face.
He walked to the fireplace, and rested his head and arm on the chimney-piece—reflected for a little while—then stood upright again—and searching in his pocket, drew from it once more that fatal lock of hair, which he had examined so anxiously and so often during his past fortnight in the country.
“Your work’s done,” he said, looking at it for a moment, as it lay in his hand—then throwing it into the dull red fire which was now burning low in the grate. “Your work’s done; and mine won’t be long a-doing.” He rested his head and arm again wearily on the chimney-piece, and added:
“I’m brothers with Zack—there’s the hard part of it!—I’m brothers with Zack.”
CHAPTER XVI. THE DAY OF RECKONING.
On the forenoon of the day that followed Mat’s return to Kirk Street, the ordinarily dull aspect of Baregrove Square was enlivened by a procession of three handsome private carriages which stopped at Mr. Thorpe’s door.
From each carriage there descended gentlemen of highly respectable appearance, clothed in shining black garments, and wearing, for the most part, white cravats. One of these gentlemen carried in his hands a handsome silver inkstand, and another gentleman who followed him, bore a roll of glossy paper, tied round with a broad ribbon of sober purple hue. The roll contained an Address to Mr. Thorpe, eulogizing his character in very affectionate terms; the inkstand was a Testimonial to be presented after the Address; and the gentlemen who occupied the three private carriages were all eminent members of the religious society which Mr. Thorpe had served in the capacity of Secretary, and from which he was now obliged to secede in consequence of the precarious state of his health.