knows! says I, and then she laid down her head,
and very likely she’s stayed there since.”
He motioned me to sit on a bench, and then, at my invitation, he also sat down, when the silence that ensued gave me an opportunity to make many observations, each of which strengthened my opinion of the poverty of the Munro family.
“Don’t let me keep you from your dinner,” I said, in order to discover whether he had any in prospect.
He appeared uneasy for an instant; then, with rather a grim smile, ho replied. “Sorrow an’t an appetiteable sauce.”
I strongly suspected that other causes than sorrow kept him from eating, and longed to offer him some money to procure a meal; but there was a certain dignity in the handsome old Englishman that held back my purse, and made me feel that a case of distress cannot always be relieved by money. He seemed to read my thoughts, for said he:
“I don’t deny it’s hard times; and if you were pleased to lend me a loan ’twould be more than a kindness, for I’m sadly gone back along; since Bessie went away, my time’s been spent in seeking for her, instead of in bringing down pigeons.”
He resolutely refused the trifle I proffered, but finally agreed to receive it as a loan, to be paid in weekly instalments of game.
“Well, I’m glad your debt will oblige you to use your gun again, for the exercise will help you to forget your trouble,” I unfortunately said, in taking leave of him.
He gave me a look that might have been quizzical but for the tone that accompanied it:
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[See p. 508]
“Them that’s got grey hair in their head can’t ride the old soldier over trouble in that way.”
The following week I found a pair of bronze-wing pigeons and three common parrots lying on the hall table; they were marked, “paid for.” Beside them lay a little three-cornered note, which ran thus: —
Honored Sir, — Bessie is loging at the Blk Bear in Golburn Street. She won’t see me, but verry like she will speak with a stranger, when you cold tell her that if she don’t want this forrin mold to cover her poor old father and mother she will come home again to them that’s her tru friends, to say nothing of him that’s her God in heaven. So no more from Mr. and Mrs. Munro, from your humble servent, John Munro.
Interpreting this into a request that I would go to Bessie, I set out for the Black Bear, and asked if one Bessie Munro lodged there. After some hesitation, it was admitted that she did, but was too ill to see any one. I perceived this to be a falsehood, and was turning in my mind how to accomplish an interview, when a portly, forbidding- looking woman came from behind a large folding screen that divided the tap-room from their private apartment. Not knowing the answer I had already received, she inquired my business; and, on being told, she deliberately stated that Bessie had only that minute “ran out on an arrant.” A foolish smile passed from face to face, and taking advantage of the confusion, I said, in a voice of authority, “Will any person have the goodness to call Bessie Munro: I shall begin to think she is detained against her will, unless I hear to the contrary from her own lips.”
“And that you shan’t!” cried the portly woman. “She’s a quiet, indefensive lodger, and she shan’t be defied in my own house. I took pity on her when they that bore her drove her to doors——”
“Hush! no more of such falsehoods. You know Bessie’s history as well as I do,” I said: on which the woman dashed like a tempest behind the screen, and, led by an irresistible impulse, I followed her into the private room. There, standing on tiptoe, and listening with every eager feature, was one of the most beautiful young women I have ever seen. Possession was in my favour; so having obtained a footing I kept it, in spite of the landlady’s abuse. I advanced to the young woman, and said:
“You need not tell me you are Bessie Munro; your likeness to your father has already told me that. I am come to beg you to return to your home; both your parents are willing to forgive you: it is in your power to make them very happy again.”
“Oh, sir! I could never face them again; mother might forgive me, but father says he’ll