Villages -- England -- Fiction; Yorkshire (England) -- Fiction
"I have thirty shillings a week on the average," I interposed, "and I
consider myself quite well to do."
"Exactly," he replied; "you and I take pleasure in our work for its own
sake, and we are each paid, I suppose, fair value for what we do.
Having food and clothing and a roof to shelter us we have all that is
necessary, but we have luxuries thrown in--true friendships, for
instance, which money cannot purchase. In my own case I am hoping to
be quite wealthy if things turn out as I am beginning to dare to
expect."
"I am glad to hear it," I said; "I am sure you deserve to succeed, and
I trust you will be very happy in the possession of wealth when your
expectation is realised."
He laughed, but with some constraint, I thought, and then said:
"We shall have to go in presently, Miss Holden, and before we do so,
and whilst we are not likely to be interrupted, I have something to say
to you which I find it difficult to mention."
I believe the colour left my face, and I know my stupid heart lost
control of its beats again. His voice was so grave that I felt sure he
had some communication to make which I should not relish, though I
could not guess at its nature. I controlled myself with an effort, and
encouraged him to proceed with an inquiring "Oh?"
He looked down at his boots for a moment and then continued:
"If it had not been for this I should not have come here this week-end,
but I wanted to tell you what I have done, and to give you a message
from one in whom you are interested. I have hesitated because I fear
it may give you pain, though in one way it does not concern you in the
slightest degree."
Why anything should give me pain which did not concern me was puzzling,
and I wished the man would get to the story and skip the introduction.
I never could bear to have news "broken gently" to me, it always seems
like a mere prolongation of the agony; but I did not dare to interrupt.
"I had to be in attendance at the Central Criminal Court last Tuesday,"
he continued; "and the case in which I was interested was delayed by
one in which the prisoner on trial was a young fellow whom you know."
It was very silly of me, but the revulsion of feeling was so great that
I nearly cried, though goodness only knows what I had been expecting.
The Cynic saw my emotion and mistook it for sympathy.
"I was afraid it would trouble you," he said kindly, "but you must not
worry about it.
"The charge was quite an ordinary one and I had scarcely listened to
the case at all, for my mind was occupied with what was to follow, but
I heard sufficient to know that the man was one of a gang of sharpers,
and that he had been caught red-handed whilst his companions had
escaped. He had no one to defend him, but the judge nominated a junior
who was present to be his counsel, and the lad did his best for him.
But the youth had been in trouble before, and it was likely to go hard
with him. All at once my neighbour nudged me: 'He's meaning you,
Derwent,' he said.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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