“Yes, sir; we all are. As I hope to be saved, I haven’t more than two shillings in the wide world!”
“Have you no source of income outside your profession?”
“No. I did well in the High Street; but I had many rivals and enemies, who spread lying reports about me, and lost me my best patients. Give a dog a bad name! I left my establishment in the heart of the town, and came into this road because rent was cheap here; and God knows if I can tell how I have lived since,” he cried passionately, his natural bad temper breaking through his affectation of suffering and ill-treatment. “The pawnbroker has been my only friend! Am I to sell the bed from under me? Oh, sir, I think of my wife, of my poor little child—for my child she is, if love can make her so—and the thought is death to me!”
He flourished his handkerchief and looked piteously at Holdsworth.
“How can I serve you?”
“Ah, sir!” exclaimed Mr. Conway, sinking his voice into a yet more whining note, the while a gleam entered into his eyes; “what right have I to trespass upon the benevolence of a stranger? of a gentleman who has already placed me under a thousand obligations by his kindness to my little daughter? I feel myself a wretch, sir, when I reflect upon the unfortunate position I have placed my poor wife in. I was flourishing in those days; I could have given—I did give her and her baby a good home. But what position is so secure that it can stand against the lies of rivalry and jealousy? the slanderous reports of ruffians who make capital for themselves out of a neighbour’s trifling errors, and—and—oh! damn them!”
“How can I serve you?” said Holdsworth, coming quietly back to the point.
“If I dare name my wants to you, sir—if I dare presume upon that benevolence which you have so signally illustrated in your behaviour to little Nelly, I—I——”
“I am a poor man,” said Holdsworth, as the other paused; “and can afford but little. But that little is cheerfully at the service of your wife and child, who must not be allowed to want.”