Mad: A Story of Dust and AshesFenn, George Manville
General
Mad: A Story of Dust and Ashes
Fenn, George Manville
Fiction
"O, this weary, weary deceit!" sobbed Lucy, throwing herself on her
knees by her bedside and weeping bitterly. Then, sighing, she rose,
folded her mantle, and bathed her eyes before going to the sitting-room,
where in a few more minutes her sewing-machine was rapidly beating until
Septimus came and, with one loving hand laid across her red eyes, took
away the candle.
Volume Three, Chapter V.
MATT'S DISCOVERY.
"Hold hard here!" cried a voice from a cab-window; and the driver of as
jangling a conveyance as ever rattled over London stones drew up at the
corner of Carey-street, Chancery-lane.
"I'll get out here," cried the voice; and very slowly, and with the aid
of a stick, old Matt extricated himself from amongst the straw, a part
of which he managed to drag out into the road.
The next minute the cabman was paid and had driven off. The boy who,
with a basket slung across his back, had stopped to witness the
disembarkation, and cut his popular song in half the while, resumed the
refrain and went on along the Lane; while, with a smile on his pale
face, old Matt slowly made his way down Carey-street, stopping to rest
at the first lamp-post.
"Here I am," he said; "King Space come back to my dominions. I wasn't
going to ride and lose the pleasure of seeing it all. Thank God there's
no whitewash here, and everything's just as I left it; things looking as
if they hadn't stirred a peg; and I don't suppose they have, if they
haven't been costs, which certainly do grow and flourish well here.
Lord, sir, how beautiful and smoky and natural everything looks once
more! There's Hardon's old printing-office--ah, to be sure! `Grimp,
Deeds copied.' That's the trade to flourish here. Now then, sir,
good-morning! Let's get on a bit farther."
According to his old custom, and heedless now of its being broad
daylight, Matt made his way slowly to the next post, making his crippled
state an excuse now for stopping, though there was hardly a soul to be
seen in Carey-street, and those who passed were too intent upon their
own affairs to notice him.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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