What Will He Do with It? — Volume 04Lytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
General
What Will He Do with It? — Volume 04
Lytton, Edward Bulwer Lytton, Baron
English fiction -- 19th century
been taken in: this must not occur again, or Gatesboro' is dishonoured,
and Virtue indeed a name!" Mr. Hartopp felt not only mortified but
subjugated,--he who had hitherto been the soft subjugator of the hardest.
He felt not only subjugated, but indignant at the consciousness of being
so. He was too meekly convinced of Heaven's unerring justice not to feel
assured that the man who had taken him in would come to a tragic end. He
would not have hung that man with his own hands: he was too mild for
vengeance. But if he had seen that man hanging he would have said
piously, "Fitting retribution," and passed on his way soothed and
comforted. Taken in!--taken in at last!--he, Josiah Hartopp, taken
in by a fellow with one eye!
CHAPTER II.
The Mayor is so protected that be cannot help himself.
A commotion without,--a kind of howl, a kind of hoot. Mr. Williams, the
warehousemen, the tanners, Mike Callaghan, share between them the howl
and the hoot. The Mayor started: is it possible! His door is burst
open, and, scattering all who sought to hold him back,--scattering them
to the right and left from his massive torso in rushed the man who had
taken in the Mayor,--the fellow with one eye, and with that fellow,
shaggy and travel-soiled, the other dog!
"What have you done with the charge I intrusted to you? My child! my
child! where is she?"
Waife's face was wild with the agony of his emotions, and his voice was
so sharply terrible that it went like a knife into the heart of the men,
who, thrust aside for the moment, now followed him, fearful, into the
room.
"Mr.--Mr. Chapman, sir," faltered the Mayor, striving hard to recover
dignity and self-possession, "I am astonished at your--your--"
"Audacity!" interposed Mr. Williams.
"My child! my Sophy! my child! answer me, man!" "Sir," said the Mayor,
drawing himself up, "have you not got the note which I left at my
bailiff's cottage in case you called there?"
"Your note! this thing!" said Waife, striking a crumpled paper with his
hand, and running his eye over its contents. "You have rendered up, you
say, the child to her lawful protector? Gracious heavens! did I trust
her to you, or not?"
"Leave the room all of you," said the Mayor, with a sudden return of his
usual calm vigour.
"You go,--you, sirs; what the deuce do you do here?" growled Williams to
the meaner throng. "Out! I stay, never fear, men, I'll take care of
him!"
The bystanders surlily slunk off: but none returned to their work; they
stood within reach of call by the shut door. Williams tucked up his
coat-sleeves, clenched his fists, hung his head doggedly on one side, and
looked altogether so pugnacious and minatory that Sir Isaac, who, though
in a state of great excitement, had hitherto retained self-control,
peered at him under his curls, stiffened his back, showed his teeth, and
growled formidably.
"My good Williams, leave us," said the Mayor; "I would be alone with this
person."
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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