"Looking about me my eyes fell on a little bedstead, on which lay one of
the most beautiful infants I ever beheld in my life. Its golden hair
lay in ringlets upon the pillow. Its eyes were closed, but its soft
cheeks had in them a rosy tinge which almost equalled the colour of its
dainty little lips, slightly opened as it softly breathed and dreamed."
At this point I saw my wife look quickly at the bedroom key she had in
her hand. I knew she was thinking of George William.
"I stood entranced," continued the burglar, "gazing upon this babe, for
I was very fond of children; but I remembered that I must not waste
time, and stepped softly into the next room. There I beheld Mr. and Mrs.
Williamson Green in bed, both fast asleep, the gentleman breathing a
little hard. In a corner, just where my father told me I should find it,
stood the box upon the table.
"But I could not immediately pick it up and depart. The beautiful room
in which I found myself was a revelation to me. Until that moment I had
not known that I had tastes and sympathies of a higher order than might
have been expected of the youthful son of a boat-builder. Those artistic
furnishings aroused within a love of the beautiful which I did not know
I possessed. The carpets, the walls, the pictures, the hangings in the
windows, the furniture, the ornaments,--everything, in fact, impressed
me with such a delight that I did not wish to move or go away.
"Into my young soul there came a longing. 'Oh!' I said to myself, 'that
my parents had belonged to the same social grade as that worthy couple
reposing in that bed; and oh! that I, in my infancy, had been as
beautiful and as likely to be so carefully nurtured and cultured as that
sweet babe in the next room.' I almost heaved a sigh as I thought of the
difference between these surroundings and my own, but I checked myself;
it would not do to made a noise and spoil my father's joke.
"There were a great many things in that luxurious apartment which it
would have delighted me to look upon and examine, but I forbore."
"I wish I'd been there," said the stout man; "there wouldn't have been
any forbearin'."
The speaker turned sharply upon him.
"Don't you interrupt me again," he said angrily. Then, instantly
resuming his deferential tone, he continued the story.
"But I had come there by the command of my parent, and this command must
be obeyed without trifling or loss of time. My father did not approve of
trifling or loss of time. I moved quietly toward the table in the
corner, on which stood my father's box. I was just about to put my hand
upon it when I heard a slight movement behind me. I gave a start and
glanced backward. It was Mr. Williamson Green turning over in his bed;
what if he should awake? His back was now toward me, and my impulse was
to fly and leave everything behind me; but my father had ordered me to
bring the box, and he expected his orders to be obeyed. I had often been
convinced of that.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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