Chapter V: Sophy's Tale

"You remember that night, I can never forget it, when you refused to go with me to the entertainment, as I had tempted you to do? When you closed your mistress's door, and I found myself alone in the street, oh! How angry I felt, how I vowed to make you repent having dared to think of your duty instead of my pleasure and your own! I hastily joined my other companions, and we went together to the conjuror's show. We were very merry, I remember, we were full of joking and nonsense; only my father—he too was there—looked more fidgety and uneasy than I had ever seen him before. I thought that maybe he was not well; I did not guess what cause he had to be restless. Presently my father rose from his seat,—we were closely packed on the benches, and I was sitting beside him. He muttered something about the heat; and indeed what with the gas and the crowding, I didn't wonder if he felt a bit faint. He pushed his way out as well as he could, and as I looked after him I caught sight, just at the door, of a man who'd come from London, and who had had business with my father, what business I could not tell, but you know it all came out at the trial. He'd led my poor father into the trouble which, which—" The convict's daughter could not finish the sentence, a hot flush overspread her face, and Norah felt almost as uncomfortable as if the shame had been her own.

"I believe," continued Sophy, "that that man had made some sign to my father that the police were on the scent, and that was the reason why he left the place in such haste. You know," she lowered her voice, "that my poor father was taken up that night, and I never saw him again!"

"And you?" asked Norah, anxious to break the painful pause which followed.

"I went home when all was over, quite merry and jolly, to the lodging where you know that we used to live, my father and I; for though I worked for Miss Cobb, I never slept at her house. I went to sleep as light-hearted as could be, never dreaming what a terrible waking was a-coming. Wasn't I startled and frightened when Mrs. Smith—she was our landlady you know—burst suddenly into my little room in the morning, all full of excitement, and talking so loud and fast, that I could hardly make out her meaning at first. 'Twas a shameful thing, she cried, a disgraceful thing, that a respectable house like hers should be a harbour for thieves and forgers; the like had never happened afore, and she'd take precious care, she would, that it never should happen again. To think of the police a-coming to her door, and searching for false money on her premises! She bade me get up and dress, as she might have spoken to a dog, and set me all in a tremble by what she told me had happened to my father. Then there was a search—oh, dear! oh, dear!" Sophy shuddered at the recollection; "my boxes turned inside out, and the drawers—"

"But there was nothing against you?" interrupted Norah.

"Not bad money, but—but—lots of scraps of silk that I had cribbed from Miss Cobb; I always took such trifles as I could lay hands on, bits of gimp, and ribbon, and lace, and there were two pocket handkerchiefs of Mrs. Smith's—oh! wasn't she in a rage when she saw them; she called me such names—I can't repeat them—and threatened to give me over to the police!"

"How dreadful, how very dreadful!" exclaimed Norah, remembering with shame and remorse the time when she herself had hardly thought it wrong to take such trifles as she hoped would never be missed.

"I wonder I didn't go mad!" cried Sophy; "I think I was almost crazy, Mrs. Smith frightened me so! I didn't know what to do, or where to go, when I was left at last to myself. My father he was in prison; I'd not another relation in the town who could help me. I dared not go to Miss Cobb's, after what had been found in my box, I'd rather have died than go there! And I could not stay where I was, Mrs. Smith had said plain enough that she'd turn me out into the street!"

"Oh! Why did you not come to me?" cried Norah.

"As if your mistress would have let you have anything to do with—with one like me!" exclaimed Sophy. "'No,' thinks I, as soon as I could think at all, for my brain was whirling, 'I'll make a little bundle of my clothes, and I'll be off afore the whole town is astir, I can't bear to meet any faces I know!' So I made up my bundle, and crept down the stairs, and I was glad—oh, so glad—not to meet Mrs. Smith on the way. I opened the street-door and went out; I felt as if I were making an escape, I hurried down the street as fast as I could walk; I met none that I knew but the baker's boy, and I brushed past him without speaking a word. It seemed as if I could not breathe freely till I'd left the town behind, and got right out into the country."

"But where were you going?" asked Norah.

"I thought I would go to London. I knew that I had an aunt there in service, who lived somewhere in Portman Square; I fancied that I might find her out. Then I said to myself, 'how many make their fortunes in London, why should not I have luck too? And then there are such crowds of people in London, and they lead such bustling lives, that my father's troubles won't be the talk of the place, as they are here in a country town.'"

"But London is forty miles off!" cried Norah.

"I thought that I could walk the distance in two or three days," said Sophy, "or perhaps sell some of my pretty things, and get a lift on the way. It was a worry to me that I had no money; I had spent the last half-sovereign which my father had given me on a pair of new ear-rings. I walked on, and on, and on, passing one mile-stone after another, sitting down sometimes to rest myself by the way-side, till I was both hungry and tired. I had had no breakfast or dinner, you know. I stopped at last at a village. 'Here they won't know me,' thought I. I went up to a little inn; I'd opened my bundle and taken out something—I forget what—that I thought to exchange for food. There were two men by the door talking together, and they talked so loud that I could not help catching my poor father's name. They were talking of the two who had been taken up that morning for passing false coin, and were laughing over the dodges by which they had tried to escape the police! Oh," cried Sophy, clenching her hands, "I could not bear to hear more of that; I hurried out of the village as if the pavement burnt my feet! And then a dreadful fear shot into my mind; I had twice bought things with gold given to me by my father; I might have passed bad money unawares, and the police might be hunting after me. I had no peace after I thought of that danger! I was afraid of every man that I met, lest he should be a policeman in disguise! So I went on till the sun was beginning to set."

"Oh! Sophy," exclaimed Norah, "had you eaten nothing all that long time?"

"There were blackberries on the hedges, and I drank from a brook that I passed, but still I was very hungry and faint, and a chill drizzle was beginning to fall; I had determined that when I got into any place large enough to have a pawnbroker's shop in it, I'd sell or pledge my ear-rings, and get food and shelter for the night. Just as dusk was coming on, I got into a county town, and glad enough was I to see the three gilt balls hanging over a shop. I walked in with as bold an air as I could, but my knees were trembling under me, and I could not help a burning flush of shame spreading over my face, I was so dreadfully tired, you know. The pawnbroker looked hard at me, as he held the ear-rings in his hand. 'Where did you get these?' said he. I thought that he somehow knew me, and was going to give me up to justice. I was beginning to stammer out something, when another customer came in in a hurry, and took off his attention for a minute. Would you believe it, Norah? as soon as the pawnbroker's head was turned, I took the opportunity of slipping out of the shop, and hastening away as if for my life!"

"What? leaving the ear-rings!" cried Norah.

"I scarcely knew what I was doing, there was such a dizziness in my head, and such a ringing sound in my ears. I felt like a hunted creature, sure that some one must be in pursuit. Now that the sun had gone down," continued Sophy, "I grew more frightened than ever at the thought of being out alone in the dark. I saw large iron gates wide open, and a beautiful shrubbery beyond, surrounding a splendid white house, that looked to me like a palace. There were many lights in the windows, and I heard the gay sound of music from within. 'I'll go and ask shelter there,' thought I, 'for the rain is coming on heavy, and if I stay out on a wet night like this, I'll never live till the morning.' So I crept in at the gate, and along the shrubbery drive; but my heart failed me when I thought of going up to the large grand door, up the flight of broad steps, that had an awning over them. I sat, or rather sank down, under the shelter of a large laurel bush, and watched carriage after carriage driving up, and bright, merry children getting out, hurrying up the steps lest the rain should spoil their white muslin dresses. I had such strange, strange thoughts, like dreams, as I looked on the happy little creatures going into the palace, to the light, and the warmth, and the music, and the joy, while I crouched there, hungry, wet, and wretched, shut out from them all. The noise in my ears grew louder, it dulled the sound of the music; my eyes were heavy, my brain confused; I don't know whether I slept or fainted.

"I was roused by the sound of voices, kind voices, that spoke in a pitying tone. 'Help me to raise the poor girl,' said a gentleman, who, as I afterwards found, was the master of the grand house. I was so cramped and stiff that I could not have walked a step had my life depended upon it. The gentleman himself helped to lift me up, and carry me gently into the house, for motion hurt me so that I could not help crying out with the pain. I was taken to a nice warm room, where I was put into a bed, and food and drink were brought. I had no power to eat, but I drank with feverish thirst. I scarcely know what happened after that. I believe that a doctor saw me, and felt my pulse, and said that I was in for a long illness, and had better be taken to a hospital at once. I know that I was removed there, and had every comfort that I needed during a terrible attack of rheumatic fever. Oh, Norah! What I suffered. But all the pain was not so bad as the dreadful after-effects. My eyes, oh! My poor eyes. When I was dismissed from the hospital as cured, though so weak that I scarcely could stand, where was I, poor blind creature, to go? There was no place but the workhouse for me. And here I am, for life, the most wretched being on earth, with nothing to cheer me, nothing to hope for, either in this world, or the next."