Harper's New Monthly Magazine, Vol. V, No. XXV, June, 1852Various
General
Harper's New Monthly Magazine, Vol. V, No. XXV, June, 1852
Various
American literature -- Periodicals; Civilization -- Periodicals; Culture -- Periodicals
"She never had a childhood. Girls of her condition seldom have. Her
father's booked for the next world, and by an early stage, too, unless
he mends his manners, and that I hardly see how he's to do. The girl's
been to Lymington to see after a place. Can't have it. Her father's
character is against her. Unfortunate; for she's a good girl."
"I am sorry for her. But come, to business. How about the matter you
wot of?"
"Here are all the particulars," answered Lee, with an easy transition
from a sentimental to a common-sense, business-like tone, and, at the
same time, unscrewing the lid of a tortoise-shell tobacco-box, and
taking a folded paper from it. "I keep these matters generally here;
for if I were to drop such an article--just now, especially--I might as
well be hung out to dry at once."
I glanced over the paper. "Place, date, hour correct, and thoroughly to
be depended upon, you say, eh?"
"Correct as Cocker, I'll answer for it. It would be a spicy run for
them, if there were no man-traps in the way."
I placed the paper in my waistcoat-pocket, and then handed the doctor
his preliminary fee. The touch of gold had not its usual electrical
effect upon him. His nervous fit was coming on again. "I wish," he
puffed out--"I wish I was safe out of this part of the country, or else
that a certain person I know was transported; then, indeed--"
"And who may that certain person be, doctor?" demanded a grim-looking
rascal, as he softly opened the door. "Not me, I hope?"
I instantly recognized the fellow, and so did the doctor, who had again
bounded from his chair, and was shaking all over as if with ague,
while his very carbuncles became pallid with affright. "You-u-u," he
stammered--"You-u-u, Wyatt: God forbid!"
Wyatt was, I saw, muddled with liquor. This was lucky for poor Lee.
"Well, never mind if it _was_ me, old brick," rejoined the fellow; "or,
at least, you have been a brick, though I'm misdoubting you'll die a
pantile after all. But here's luck; all's one for that." He held a
pewter pot in one hand, and a pipe in the other, and as he drank, his
somewhat confused but baleful look continued leveled savagely along the
pewter at the terrified doctor. There was, I saw, mischief in the man.
"I'd drink yours," continued the reckless scamp, as he paused for
breath, drew the back of his pipe-hand across his mouth, and stared as
steadily as he could in my face--"I'd drink your health, if I only knew
your name."
"You'll hear it plainly enough, my fine fellow, when you're in the dock
one of these days, just before the judge sends you to the hulks, or,
which is perhaps the likelier, to the gallows. And this scamp, too," I
added, with a gesture toward Lee, whom I hardly dared venture to look
at, "who has been pitching me such a pretty rigmarole, is, I see, a
fellow-rogue to yourself. This house appears to be little better than
a thieves' rendezvous, upon my word."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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