The International Monthly, Volume 4, No. 1, August, 1851Various
History
The International Monthly, Volume 4, No. 1, August, 1851
Various
Art, Modern -- 19th century -- Periodicals; Literature, Modern -- 19th century -- Periodicals; Science -- History -- Periodicals
"'Friends!' said the gentleman, in such a voice! 'Friends I have but
one, and I am going to Him! I cannot take her there!' Then he seemed
suddenly to recollect hisself, and called for his clothes, and
rummaged in the pockets as if looking for some address, and could not
find it. He seemed a forgetful kind of gentleman, and his hands were
what I call _helpless_ hands, sir! And then he gasped out,
'Stop--stop! I never had the address. Write to Lord Les--,' something
like Lord Lester--but we could not make out the name. Indeed he did
not finish it, for there was a rush of blood to his lips; and though
he seemed sensible when he recovered, (and knew us and his little girl
too, till he went off smiling,) he never spoke word more."
"Poor man," said Leonard, wiping his eyes. "But his little girl surely
remembers the name that he did not finish?"
"No. She says, he must have meant a gentleman whom they had met in the
Park not long ago, who was very kind to her father, and was Lord
something; but she don't remember the name, for she never saw him
before or since, and her father talked very little about any one
lately, but thought he should find some kind friends at Screwstown,
and travelled down there with her from Lunnon. But she supposes he was
disappointed, for he went out, came back, and merely told her to put
up the things, as they must go back to Lunnon. And on his way there
he--died. Hush what's that? I hope she did not overhear us. No, we
were talking low. She has the next room to your'n, sir. I thought I
heard her sobbing. Hush!"
"In the next room? I hear nothing. Well, with your leave, I will speak
to her before I quit you. And had her father no money with him?"
"Yes, a few sovereigns, sir; they paid for his funeral, and there is a
little left still, enough to take her to town; for my husband said,
says he, 'Hannah, the widow _gave_ her mite, and we must not _take_
the orphans;' and my husband is a hard man, too, sir. Bless him!"
"Let me take your hand, ma'am. God reward you both."
"La, sir!--why, even Dr. Dosewell said, rather grumpily though, 'Never
mind my bill; but don't call me up at six o'clock in the morning
again, without knowing a little more about people.' And I never afore
knew Dr. Dosewell go without his bill being paid. He said it was a
trick o' the other Doctor to spite him."
"What other Doctor?"
"Oh, a very good gentleman, who got out with Mr. Digby when he was
taken ill, and stayed till the next morning; and our Doctor says his
name is Morgan, and he lives in--Lunnon, and is a homy--something."
"Homicide," suggested Leonard ignorantly.
"Ah--homicide; something like that, only a deal longer and worse. But
he left some of the tiniest little balls you ever see, sir, to give
the child; but, bless you, they did her no good--how should they?"
"Tiny balls, oh--homoeopathist--I understand. And the Doctor was
kind to her; perhaps he may help her. Have you written to him?"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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