English fiction -- 19th century; Labor unions -- Fiction
While Jael was gone for the bust, Henry took a humbler tone, and in a
low voice began to excuse his absence; and I think he would have told
the real truth, if he had been encouraged a little; but he was met with
a cold and withering assurance that it was a matter of no consequence.
Henry thought this unfair, and, knowing in his own heart it was
ungrateful, he rebelled. He bit his lip, sat down as gloomy as the
grave, and resumed his work, silent and sullen.
As for Jael, she brought in the bust, and then sat down with her
bonnet on, quaking; for she felt sure that, in such a dismal dearth of
conversation, Miss Carden would be certain to turn round very soon, and
say, “Well, Jael, you can go now.”
But this Quaker's meeting was interrupted by a doctor looking in to
prescribe for Miss Carden's cold. The said cold was imperceptible to
vulgar eyes, but Grace had detected it, and had written to her friend,
Dr. Amboyne, to come and make it as imperceptible to herself as to the
spectator.
In rolled the doctor, and was not a little startled at sight of Little.
“Hallo!” cried be. “What, cured already? Cairnhope forever!” He then
proceeded to feel his pulse instead of Miss Carden's, and inspect his
eye, at which Grace Carden stared.
“What, is he unwell?”
“Why, a man does not get blown up with gunpowder without some little
disturbance of the system.”
“Blown up with gunpowder! What DO you mean?”
“What, have you not heard about it? Don't you read the newspapers?”
“No; never.”
“Merciful powers! But has he not told you?”
“No; he tells us nothing.”
“Then I'll tell you, it is of no use your making faces at me. There is
no earthly reason why she should be kept in the dark. These Hillsborough
trades want to drive this young man out of town: why--is too long
and intricate for you to follow. He resists this tyranny, gently, but
firmly.”
“I'd resist it furiously,” said Grace.
“The consequence is, they wrote him several threatening letters; and, at
last, some caitiff put gunpowder into his forge; it exploded, and blew
him out of a second-floor window.”
“Oh! oh!” screamed Grace Carden and Jael; and by one womanly impulse
they both put their hands before their faces, as if to shut out the
horrible picture.
“What is that for?” said the doctor. “You see he is all right now. But,
I promise you, he cut a very different figure when I saw him directly
afterward; he was scorched as black as a coal--”
“Oh, doctor, don't; pray don't. Oh, sir, why did you not tell me?”
“And his face bleeding,” continued the merciless doctor.
“Oh dear! oh dear!” And the sweet eyes were turned, all swimming in
water upon Henry, with a look of angelic pity.
“His nerves were terribly shaken, but there were no bones broken. I said
to myself, 'He must sleep or go mad, and he will not sleep in the town
that has blown him up.' I just drove the patient off to peace and pure
air, and confided him to one of the best creatures in England--Martha
Dence.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
Reviews
Reviews
No reviews yet
Be the first to share your thoughts on this work.
Join the Discussion
Join the discussion
Sign in to leave a comment or review.
Sign InorCreate an account