CHAPTER V.
REUBEN SEES MORE OF OWEN GRANT.
NOT two days only, but two weeks, passed, and Reuben saw nothing of Owen Grant. He began to wonder if his loan of five shillings had been forgotten by Owen. Reuben felt, not unnaturally, that he should like to see his money again. He did not know where Owen lodged, but he knew the shop at which he worked, and he resolved that since Owen did not seek him, he would go in search of Owen.
Reuben could not get to the draper's shop in which Owen was employed till near the hour of closing. But late as it was, the shop was full of customers. The atmosphere was hot with gas. The assistants looked tired, but very busy. When Reuben asked if he could see Owen Grant, he was told to stand on one side and wait. Reuben waited patiently, finding entertainment in watching the scene before him.
Presently he spied Owen seated before a high desk in the middle of the shop. He had a large book before him, in which he continually made entries, at the same time receiving money and giving forth change with a rapidity which astonished Reuben. Busy though he was, he caught sight of Reuben, and nodded to him. But something in his look as he did so, made Reuben fancy that Owen was not over-pleased to see him.
Gradually the number of customers in the shop lessened, one after another they went out, most of them carrying parcels. Already the shutters were being put up, and the wearied assistants, with an air of relief, began to roll up the materials they had been displaying, and to carry things back to their places. Still Reuben had to wait many minutes ere Owen was at liberty to come to him.
When at last he came, he looked pale and jaded, and the smile with which he greeted Reuben seemed forced.
"Come outside, old fellow," he said quickly; "every one is on the move now, and we cannot talk here."
"I need not keep you, Owen," said Reuben; "I only came to ask if you could let me have the five shillings I lent you. Have you forgotten it?"
Owen lifted his hand with a quick movement, as though to check Reuben's words; then looked round uneasily as he said, "All right! We'll talk about that outside; there is no need to acquaint all these fellows with my private affairs."
But no one was near enough to them to have heard what Reuben said. Without another word, he followed Owen into the open air. Then, as they turned along the street, Owen began to talk away to him so fast that Reuben had difficulty in getting in a word.
"What do you think of our shop?" he asked, without waiting for Reuben's reply. "Smart, isn't it? I can tell you we do a rattling good trade. I've had to work hard, I know, since I was promoted to be cashier."
"How long have you been cashier?" Reuben managed to ask.
"Oh, only since Christmas. The other fellow fell ill; that was how I got the post. It was a stroke of good luck for me, for of course it means better pay, though I have to work hard. But I was always quick at accounts, you know, so the book-keeping comes easy to me. The manager is pleased with the way I do the work; he told me so last week. But here's a pub. Let's go in and have a drink. One wants one badly enough after pegging all day in that close shop."
"You forget that I am a teetotaler," said Reuben.
"What, are you still? I should have thought you would have given up that nonsense when you came to town. I signed the pledge myself, years ago, at Ashworth, but I am wiser now. As if a man cannot be trusted to take care of himself! He is a poor creature who cannot tell when he has had enough and leave off drinking."
"There are a good many such poor creatures about," remarked Reuben gravely. "Do your father and mother know, Owen, that you have broken the pledge?"
"I should like to know what that is to you," exclaimed Owen, suddenly getting angry. "You just leave my father and mother alone, Reuben Roy. It's no business of yours what they know or do not know."
"You are right," said Reuben, quietly. "My business with you, this evening, Owen, is to ask you to return the five shillings I lent you."
"All right!" said Owen, colouring up and beginning to feel in his pockets. He drew forth a shilling and some coppers, and stood looking at them, as though wondering they were not more.
"I'm awfully sorry, Reuben," he said, after a minute, "but I can't pay you to-night. This is all I have with me. The fact is, that little affair quite slipped my memory, or you should have been paid before this. But I'll bring it to you one of these days. You need not trouble to look me up again."
"But what day will you bring it?" asked Reuben, thinking it well, if possible, to prevent the "little affair" from again slipping Owen's memory; "and will you bring it to me at my lodging, or come to the works?"
"Oh, the works will be nearer, but it is only on Saturday that I can come, for we close early on that day, and so do you. Unfortunately I have an engagement for next Saturday. But Saturday week I could come. Would that suit you, Reuben?"
"Yes; if you won't forget," said Reuben.
"Oh, I'll not forget. I'll be outside the works at three o'clock without fail."
And with that understanding they parted.
When the Saturday came, Reuben felt doubtful whether Owen would keep his appointment. But Owen did arrive, after Reuben had waited for some minutes at the entrance to the works.
Owen wore his smartest attire. The pin that adorned his gay necktie represented a racehorse; he was smoking a cigar, and flourished a cane. Altogether there was a fast look about the young man. Mr. Akenside noted it as he passed the two standing at the edge of the pavement. He turned and took a close survey of Reuben's companion. The result was unsatisfactory. He was sorry that Reuben should make a friend of such a lad. He knew nothing of Owen's connection with Ashworth, having never seen him there.
With a patronising, half-contemptuous air, Owen handed Reuben the five shillings.
"There's your money, Reuben. I hope I have not inconvenienced you by keeping it so long."
"No," said Reuben; "I should have spent the money if I had had it. But not having it, I learned to do without it. So now I can look upon this as so much saved, and I am not sorry."
"I tell you what, Reuben," said Owen, in a low, confidential tone, "if you have any money saved, I can tell you how to double it. The Warwick races come off next week, and I know the names of the winners. If you like to back a horse, I'll give you a tip."
"How can any one know which horse will win before the race comes off?" asked Reuben.
"Oh, there are ways of finding out. You may rely on my information," said Owen.
But Reuben shook his head and smiled.
"No, no, thank you," he said. "'A fool and his money are soon parted,' they say. I'm not such a fool as to throw mine away in bets. Besides, I think betting is very wrong: I am sure I should not like to take another fellow's money if I won it. Don't you remember how Mr. Howe used to warn us against gambling of all kinds? He used to say that nothing led so surely to dishonesty and crime."
"That will do, thank you. Pray spare me Mr. Howe's sermon. It is no good trying to put any gumption into you, Reuben. You are a fool—a precious fool."
Not long after this, Reuben changed his lodging. It was by Mr. Akenside's arrangement that he did so. Just within the large gates which guarded the entrance to the works was a small dwelling, occupied by an old man who acted as gate-keeper by day and had charge of the premises at night. He had been in the service of the firm for many years, and they were loth to dismiss him, but he was obviously getting past his work. His hearing was no longer good, nor his movements alert. Rather than dismiss him, Mr. Akenside suggested that he should have a young man to live with him, who could accompany him on his rounds at night to see that everything was secure, and whose keen young ears could be trusted to repair the old man's deficiency.
The gate-keeper had no objection to this plan, and seemed pleased when Mr. Akenside named Reuben Roy as the youth he thought of placing with him.
"He's a good lad is Reuben Roy," he said. "If all the young fellows would behave themselves as he does, we should not have much to complain of. I tell him sometimes he has an old head on young shoulders."
Mr. Akenside heard him with surprise. "I am afraid you are mistaken in Reuben Roy, Samuel," he said. "I used to have a high opinion of him. But Savage tells me he is very tiresome, and does not attend to his work properly. I fancy he has taken up with bad companions; I saw him myself the other day with a fast young fellow, whose appearance I did not at all like. To tell you the truth, I hoped that being here with you would act as a restraint on him, and you might get a good influence over him, for I know you are a favourite with the young fellows."
"Well, we live and learn," said the old man musingly. "I should certainly never have thought Reuben Roy a lad who needed restraint, nor one likely to be led astray by bad companions."
His words made an impression on Mr. Akenside. He would fain think well of Reuben Roy. He began to wonder if Savage had been quite fair towards Reuben, or whether he had conceived a prejudice against him.
When, a few days later, Savage ventured to remonstrate with Mr. Akenside concerning his appointment of Reuben to be old Samuel's helper, saving that he thought it dangerous to allow such a lad the range of the factory, he found to his dismay that his words were without effect; Mr. Akenside was not to be persuaded to give up his purpose.
Savage had reasons of his own for desiring that Reuben Roy should not be stationed at the gatehouse, but he had to reconcile himself to the disagreeable fact; the will of the master prevailed.
CHAPTER VI.
REUBEN HAS THRILLING EXPERIENCES.
REUBEN was well pleased with his change of quarters. He liked old Samuel, and had no doubt that he should get on with him. The gatehouse, though small, was clean and bright, for Samuel's married daughter either came herself or sent some one each day to attend to the house and cook the old man's dinner. Reuben liked his room, which looked into the yard, and thought it a great improvement on his attic in the noisy, crowded house, where the lodgers were continually quarrelling. He wrote his mother a cheerful letter, telling her how much better off he was, for he knew that the news would gladden her heart.
Reuben began to feel glad himself once more. Things were altogether brighter in his life. Mr. Akenside spoke kindly to him whenever they met, and even Savage, though many a sign showed that in his heart he liked Reuben no better than before, treated him with less severity. Reuben hoped that his worst troubles were over.
Reuben's only regret in leaving his lodging was that he would in future see less of Kate, who, in her rough way, still showed herself friendly to him, and whom he was anxious to befriend in any way that he could. He believed that the girl had better thoughts and feelings than she would suffer to appear. She was regarded at the factory as an incorrigibly bad girl, always in mischief, and it was wondered that she did not get her dismissal, for she was often insolent to Mr. Savage, and made no secret of the fact that she hated him and loved to give him trouble.
But, away from the factory, Reuben sometimes saw Kate under another aspect. She liked to talk to him, and would often ask questions about his home life, in which she seemed much interested. Now and then Reuben would read her bits out of his mother's letters,—hurriedly written letters they were, and very queerly spelt, but full of a mother's love, a mother's tender anxiety about her son's welfare. Kate evidently liked to hear these. But she would sigh when Reuben had finished, and a look of sadness would flit across the face which was usually aglow with mischievous mirth.
Reuben had not been long at the gatehouse, when one day—it was a day he never forgot—as he was passing along a passage between the workshops, he heard proceeding from one of them, shrill, awful cries for help. He recognised the voices as those of women, and flew to the rescue. Dashing into the midst of a group of terrified girls, he perceived that one of them had become entangled by her clothes in the machinery, and was being drawn to certain death.
In a moment Reuben had his arms around the girl, and tried desperately to release her. But unaided, he was powerless to extricate her, and he too might have been drawn into the power of the swift, relentless machine, if the cries of the girls had not brought other men to the spot, who by main force dragged the poor creature out. It was a horrible sight. Her clothes were in shreds, and her flesh was terribly torn and mangled. It seemed impossible that she could survive such injuries; but without delay a stretcher was procured, and she was borne away to the hospital.
Not till this was done did Reuben learn that the sufferer was Kate Barnaby, the wild, rough girl in whom he had become interested. The accident was a sad consequence of her own lawlessness. It was against the rules for women to touch these machines, or even to enter the room where they were, the danger of their clothing becoming entangled in the machinery being so great. But Kate, in one of her reckless moods, had been tempted to disobey if she dared, and had defiantly ventured to approach and even attempt to work one of the machines in the absence of the workmen, with a result which the giddy girls who had led her into this mischief would never forget.
Reuben was shocked and unnerved by the terrible sight. It was all he could do to keep from sobbing aloud as the women did. No one who had witnessed the accident thought it possible that Kate could live. A sense of horror and gloom oppressed all the workers in the large factory, as they discussed with painful eagerness the event. Nothing else was talked about, and all were glad when the hour of closing came.
As they passed out of the gates, quite a number of the "hands" turned in the direction of the hospital, that they might inquire there as to Kate's condition. Reuben was of the number. It was a great relief to him to learn that the surgeons did not consider the case hopeless. But he returned to the gatehouse with his heart heavy with anxiety, and that night he tossed to and fro on his bed and could not sleep, whilst the horrible scene which had shocked him kept renewing itself before his mental vision.
At last, finding the attempt to sleep vain, he rose and went to his window. It was about five in the morning, but still dark, and no wind was stirring. As Reuben pressed his hot forehead against the window-pane, he perceived to his astonishment a light moving unsteadily at the farther end of the yard. Now here, now there it was, then he lost sight of it, then a few minutes later it appeared again.
Reuben began to tremble with a vague terror. What could it mean? Some one surely was moving about the yard who had no business to be there. How was it that the faithful watchdog, which ranged the premises at night, had given no alarm? Watching closely, Reuben began to fancy that he could see forms moving stealthily in the darkness. All his senses now on the alert, he became aware of dull, muffled sounds from time to time. Something apparently was wrong, and he must discover what.
Hurriedly drawing on his clothes, he prepared to go forth, but at the door of his room he paused and hesitated, in doubt whether it would be well to rouse old Samuel. He went back to the window. The light was no longer visible, but still he fancied he could hear sounds as of some one stirring in the yard. Yet it all seemed so dream-like that Reuben was by no means sure that he was not the victim of some delusion, the result of his over-strained nerves and sleepless night. He resolved, though not without tremor, that he would slip into the yard, and ascertain whether there was any one there before he awoke old Samuel.
The sound of the old man's heavy breathing was reassuring to Reuben as he crept downstairs. He began to hope that he had disquieted himself about nothing. But as, having quietly opened the house door, he stepped into the yard, he saw the light again, Reuben's heart beat fast as he crept along towards the spot at which it had appeared.
Presently the sound of subdued voices reached his ear. There were men moving at the end of the yard, but he was not yet near enough to hear what they were saying.
It was lighter out of doors than it had seemed from the window. As he advanced, Reuben saw to his astonishment that a cart and horse stood before one of the buildings. It was that in which the metal goods, when finished, were temporarily stored. Reuben could not imagine how the cart could have been driven into the yard after the gates were closed. He moved on, feeling like one in a dream.
As he came up to it, he saw that the horse's hoofs were muffled to prevent its tread being heard. The next moment he perceived that the storehouse door stood open, and that some one within was handing out goods to a man who stood at the back of the cart, and was hurriedly packing them into it.
Reuben shrank back against the wall, trembling in every limb. Here were thieves indeed, and they were doing their work in a wholesale way. But the discovery inspired him, excited and overwrought as he was, with such terror, that he cowered against the wall, close to the cart, unable to move forward or back.
The next minute the man at the cart said, in a low, cautious tone to his confederate within, "I say, Nat, it's getting late. We'd best be off before it grows any lighter."
The man within appeared to assent. A few more things were handed out, then a few moments later Reuben heard the sound of the storehouse door being closed and locked.
The next minute a man carrying a lantern passed in front of Reuben. The lad held his breath, and vainly tried to squeeze himself closer to the wall. Then to his amazement he saw that the man was none other than Nat Savage. For a moment Reuben had the idea that all was right, and he was there on lawful business. But the darkness, the stealth, the haste told another story.
It was easy now to explain how they gained admittance to the works. Savage had keys that would open every gate or door on the premises. He was trusted with everything. And this was how he rewarded the confidence placed in him!
Following at Savage's heels was the watchdog belonging to the premises. Reuben knew that Savage had trained this dog to do anything he told him. He would not bark if his master bid him be still. But the dog knew Reuben well also, and now, to the lad's dismay, he bounded towards him, giving a low whine of delight.
"WE ARE NOT BURGLARS!"
Instantly, Savage turned and flashed the light of his lantern upon Reuben.
"You here!" exclaimed the man, his face white with fear, his form trembling visibly. Then, in ungovernable passion, he broke out, "But I'll teach you to spy upon me; I'll give you a lesson."
And he raised his hand to strike Reuben. Ere he could do so, his arm was seized by his companion, whom Reuben now recognised as a little old man, with a mean, cunning face, whom he had occasionally seen in the yard talking with Savage.
"Gently, gently," whispered this man; "don't make a noise. You forget the old man. Tell him it's all right."
Savage took the hint, recovered himself and said more quietly, though his manner still betrayed agitation, "You need not be alarmed, Reuben Roy. We are not burglars. It is all perfectly right, I assure you. Now you have seen who is here, you can go back to your bed. Only remember, please, that I do not wish this talked about. Give me your word that you will say nothing of this to any one."
But Reuben was silent. He was by no means satisfied that all was perfectly right, and, though he dreaded Savage's violence, he would not promise to keep silence, when he believed it was his duty to speak of what he had seen.
"Why don't you speak?" asked Savage angrily. "Don't you hear me? Promise that you will name this to no one. Come, I am not to be trifled with, I can tell you. Promise to hold your tongue, or it will be the worse for you."
"I will not promise," said Reuben bravely, though his voice shook as he spoke. "I am bound to tell Samuel what I have seen. If it is all right, as you say, you need not surely mind his knowing."
"You are to tell no one. I warn you, Reuben Roy, that I am in deadly earnest. Breathe a word of this to any one, and it will be the worse for you. Now, will you promise?"
Reuben shook his head. And, remembering how he had withstood him on a previous occasion, Savage became possessed by an impotent rage that drove him almost beside himself. He rushed at Reuben with clenched fist, but the young fellow, springing on one side, evaded the blow. At the same instant, however, the other man stepped forward, and by a cunning movement of his foot, tripped Reuben up, causing him to fall heavily to the ground.
As he fell, his head struck against an angle of the wall with such force that the blow stunned him. He lay there motionless till the full light of day shone upon his white, upturned face.
CHAPTER VII.
REUBEN'S STORY IS DISCREDITED.
WHEN Reuben came to himself, he did not at first realize that he was not waking as usual in his bed. He was very cold; his head ached sorely, and he felt bruised all over. Then he became aware that the surface on which he lay was very hard, then that a chill wind was blowing over him. With that he raised himself on his elbow, not without difficulty, for he felt strangely stiff, and lo! he was in the yard, and the factory buildings were all about him.
For a few moments Reuben felt utterly bewildered. But gradually the events of the early morning came back to him. Only the fact of his being stretched there in the yard made him sure that it was not all a bad dream. For everything about him looked as usual. The cart and the men had disappeared, nor was there any sign of their having been there. He raised himself from the ground with difficulty. The movement made him feel ill, and everything seemed to swim before his eyes. But presently he began to feel better, and was able to make his way back to the gatehouse.
Old Samuel was already down, and was busying himself about the breakfast, wondering the while that Reuben, who generally undertook the preparation of this meal, still lingered upstairs. He had just discovered to his astonishment that the house door was unbolted, when the appearance of Reuben, pale and dishevelled, coming in from the outside, astonished him still further. But the story Reuben had to tell, seemed to the old man scarcely credible. Mr. Savage in the yard before five o'clock in the morning, with a horse and cart, and a strange man engaged in carrying goods away! There must be some mistake.
"You did not dream it all, did you, lad?" he asked, not unkindly, laying his hand on Reuben's hot forehead. "You don't look at all well, and you feel feverish. Are you quite sure, now, that you did not dream it all?"
"Dream it!" exclaimed Reuben, feeling indignant that, after all he had gone through, his story should be thus received. "How could I dream such a thing? Do you think I do not know Nat Savage when I see him? Ask him yourself, if he was not in the yard last night. And as for my looking ill, I may well do that after the fall I had. Look at my forehead; it's bleeding still."
"Yes, yes, poor lad, you've had a fall, that's plain enough," said the old gate-keeper feelingly. "Have you ever heard your mother say whether she's known you walk in your sleep?"
"I never walk in my sleep," said Reuben impatiently. "I tell you that as soon as I saw the light and guessed that there were persons in the yard, I hurried on some clothes and went out."
"Yes, yes, I know," said Samuel, with a smile which nettled Reuben. "But it passes my comprehension how any one could have got into the yard without my hearing them. But go and lie down, lad, if you can't eat any breakfast. A little sleep will do you good. I shall not open the gates for half an hour yet, and if you don't feel well enough to get up then, lie still a little longer. I'll tell Mr. Akenside how it is."
"Oh, I mean to tell Mr. Akenside everything myself, as soon as he comes," returned Reuben.
"Very well, very well," replied the old man, in the tone of one who would humour a whimsical patient; "but go and get a little rest whilst you can."
And Reuben was glad to take his advice, for his head ached terribly, and he felt good for nothing.
He had not lain long on his bed ere he fell fast asleep. Finding him sleeping soundly when he came to look at him a little later, old Samuel let him sleep on, for he felt sure Reuben would not be fit for work if he were roused. As the gate-keeper stood at his post taking the names of the workpeople as they passed into the works, Mr. Savage came in. Samuel looked at him curiously. But the foreman wore his usual stern, inflexible look, which revealed nothing.
"Mr. Savage," said Samuel.
Savage turned sharply at the sound of his name.
"Well," he said—he was always curt of speech—"what is it?"
"I suppose you wasn't in the yard at five o'clock this morning?"
"What! I! In the yard at that hour? I should rather think not. I have enough of the place by daylight, without wanting to come here in the dark."
"So I thought," said the old man, with a grin.
"Then what do you mean by asking me such a question?"
"Oh, it's that lad Reuben. I believe he is brain-sick. He came in this morning with such a story—how he had seen a light in the yard, and had gone out and found you, if you please, with a cart carrying away goods. It's my belief that he walked out in his sleep under the influence of a delusion. That poor girl's accident yesterday upset him very much. He has a tender heart, has Reuben."
"I hope that may be the explanation," said Savage grimly. "But I am very much afraid that story is a wicked invention, made with the purpose of hiding his own ill-deeds at the expense of my character. If I am not mistaken, you are deceived in that lad, Samuel."
"I hope you 'are' mistaken, then," said Samuel, "for I never felt more confidence in any lad. It seemed to me more like a delirious dream than anything else. For how could you get into the yard without my hearing you? And then to charge you of all persons with carrying off the goods!"
"Yes; it's a most incredible story," said Savage. "As if any one could pass the gatehouse without rousing you! But you'll see; he will try to pass it off as truth. Where is he now?"
"In bed. I told him to stay there. He does not seem fit for work."
"That's right!" and Savage hurried away.
After sleeping for a couple of hours, poor Reuben woke, feeling refreshed. He rose and dressed quickly. The discovery of the morning weighed upon his mind, and he could not rest till he had told all to Mr. Akenside. As he went downstairs, he heard the clock strike ten, and was dismayed to think it was so late.
"Well, lad," said Samuel cheerfully, "do you feel all right now?"
"Yes, all right, thank you," said Reuben, and hurried out, as if on his way to work.
As he passed one of the workshops, Reuben was surprised to see Nat Savage standing within, giving orders in his usual sharp manner. He cast a suspicious glance at Reuben, but made no attempt to stay him.
Reuben made his way to the office, where he hoped at this hour to find Mr. Akenside; nor was he disappointed. Mr. Akenside's voice it was that bade him enter in response to his knock.
"Oh, it's you, Reuben Roy, is it?" said Mr. Akenside. His voice was cold and stern.
But Reuben did not observe it. He was too full of the disclosure he had to make. He began his story tremulously, but he had not got to the end when Mr. Akenside checked him.
"That will do, Reuben Roy," he said sternly. "It is a very ingenious fabrication, no doubt, but you cannot deceive me by it. I am sorry to say that Mr. Savage has just told me of the discovery he has made that some one has managed to gain an entrance into the storehouse and carry off some of the goods, and that he suspects you of being the thief."
For a few moments Reuben was too astounded to speak.
"'Me!'" he exclaimed at last. "Mr. Savage dared to say he suspected me! Why, I saw him myself, last night, removing things from the warehouse."
"No more lies, if you please, Reuben," said Mr. Akenside sadly; "you cannot suppose that I should believe your word rather than that of Nathaniel Savage, who has been my faithful servant for more than twenty years."
"But, sir, I am telling you the very truth," said Reuben desperately; "God knows it is no lie."
"There, there, that will do," said Mr. Akenside. "If it be indeed the truth, Reuben, you will not mind our searching your room at the gatehouse."
"Search it, by all means, if you wish, sir," said Reuben eagerly. "You will not find anything there that does not belong to me."
"Very well; I shall be glad to satisfy myself that it is so," said Mr. Akenside. "So we will go to your room at once, Reuben."
As they passed out of the office, Mr. Akenside called one of the men to accompany him.
Reuben, his face flushed with indignation, led the way, eager to clear himself of the imputation of dishonesty.
When they entered Reuben's bedroom, Mr. Akenside bade the man search it thoroughly. The room was so small that the search did not take long. Beneath the bed was a hamper. Reuben had received it from home in the autumn, full of rosy apples. When he last saw it, the hamper was empty. But now, as the man's eye fell on it and he tried to draw it out, he found it so heavy, that he had difficulty in moving it. He opened the hamper, and within, closely packed in straw, were several of the small metal goods manufactured in Mr. Akenside's works.
"What is the meaning of this, Reuben?" asked Mr. Akenside sternly.
Reuben shrank back terrified, dismayed, too overwhelmed to speak. He could hardly believe his eyes. How came those things there, in his hamper, beneath his bed? He tried to speak, but the words came broken by sobs, and Mr. Akenside might well mistake his agitation for guilt, as he exclaimed, "Indeed, sir, I know nothing about it; I did not put them there."
"That will not do," said Mr. Akenside; "you cannot expect me to believe that."
Certainly things looked very bad for Reuben Roy. Even old Samuel, when he saw the things that had been found in his room, was convinced of his dishonesty. And to furnish another link in the evidence against him, a rusty key was found beneath the rug, which fitted the lock of the storehouse. There seemed no longer any reasonable ground to doubt his guilt.
But in vain Mr. Akenside urged the lad to make full confession of the wrong he had done. Reuben had nothing to confess. But his silence appeared to prove his obduracy.
Mr. Akenside hesitated how to deal with him. But at last he said: "For the sake of your father and mother, Reuben, I will not prosecute you. But, of course, after what has happened, I cannot keep you in my service, nor can I give you a character that will help you to gain another situation. You have brought your life to a sorry pass. May God have mercy on you, and save you from sinking yet lower!"
A strange flash came into Reuben's eyes. In the midst of this sore trouble, the thought of God gave him strength.
"I don't wonder, sir," he said, quietly and respectfully—"I don't wonder that you think me guilty of stealing those things. But God knows I never touched them, and that I never saw that key till you found it under the rug. I can trust in God. He has sent me this trial, and He will make my innocence clear in His own time."
Mr. Akenside was staggered by Reuben's manner. Was it indeed innocence, or was it the most cunning hypocrisy? Unable to decide, he left the lad without another word.
And Reuben began to gather his things together preparatory to quitting the gatehouse.
CHAPTER VIII.
A TIME OF TRIAL.
"WELL, lad, I am sorry to part with you—more than sorry that we should part in this way. There's no one would be more glad than I if you could find a way to prove that you never touched those things. But there! It's past belief. How could any one bring them into the gatehouse without my hearing? I must think evil of you, lad, though I'd fain not."
The speaker was old Samuel, and he looked unhappy enough as he said these words.
"Thank you," said Reuben, in a choked voice; "I know you mean kindly. Maybe you'll be able to think well of me again some day."
Reuben had ascertained that the attic in which he had formerly lodged was vacant once more, and he could have it. So thither he now removed with his few possessions. How long he would be able to live there, he could not tell. He had saved a little money, but that would soon dwindle away, unless he found some means of earning more. Reuben's heart sank within him as he remembered how hard it would be for a young man without a character to gain employment.
Had Reuben borne a guilty conscience, he could not have endured to live amongst the workpeople, who all knew of his disgrace. As it was, he shrank from the hard, curious glances directed towards him, and was painfully conscious of the whispers concerning him that were passing amongst his former companions, hearing them with the ears of his mind, if not with his actual bodily ears.
But whilst oppressed by his own troubles, Reuben did not forget poor Kate Barnaby. He went almost every day to the hospital to inquire for her, and was thankful to learn that she was making satisfactory progress, and there was good hope that her life would be saved.
Day after day Reuben sought for work, but with the result that he had dreaded. No one cared to employ him, when it was found he could not give a satisfactory character.
Reuben had not told his father and mother of his having left Mr. Akenside's factory. He clung to the hope that some fact would be brought to light that should establish his innocence, so that his parents need not learn of his trouble till its worst phase was over. But the days passed on, and no light broke through Reuben's heavy cloud of trouble. He struggled bravely with misfortune, living on as little as possible, and taking eagerly every chance job that came in his way. But the sense of undeserved reproach weighed heavily on his heart. There were times when his courage well-nigh failed, and the trial seemed indeed more than he could bear. Had God forgotten him? Was there no way of escape from this the hardest of all his temptations?
One day, about three weeks after Reuben's dismissal from the factory, Reuben calling at the hospital was informed that Kate was now sufficiently recovered to see visitors, and that she had expressed a wish to see him. It was arranged that he should pay her a visit on the following Sunday afternoon.
Kate was looking forward with eagerness to his coming. She welcomed him with such a bright smile and showed so much pleasure at seeing him that he thought she could not know of the cloud he was under. The poor girl was sadly altered. Her face was white and wasted, and the dark hollows beneath her eyes testified to the pain she had suffered. But she was getting better now, she said hopefully, though when she would be fit for work again she could not tell.
"Mr. Akenside came to see me yesterday," she said. "He says I am not to worry myself about getting back to work directly I come out of the hospital, for he'll allow me ten shillings a week till I am strong. He's a good man, is Mr. Akenside."
"Yes, he is," said Reuben.
Kate looked at him in surprise.
"What! You can say that!" she exclaimed. "I should have thought you'd have been mad with him for accusing you of stealing and turning you off."
"Ah! Then you've heard," he said, flashing crimson.
"Yes, I've heard, Reuben," she said, "but I don't believe a word of it. You steal the goods, indeed! The idea of such a thing is absurd, and so I told Mr. Akenside."
"You told him!"
"Yes, I did. I told him I was sure it was a mistake, and that some one has been playing you a mean trick."
"And what did he say?"
"Oh, he didn't say anything, only that he was very sorry about the whole affair. It was a great grief to him."
"I am sure it was," said Reuben.
"I wonder you can take it so quietly, Reuben."
"What would be the good of storming and fretting over it?" he asked. "That would not alter the facts. Of course I feel it very much."
"Have you told your mother?" she asked.
"No, I have not," he replied. "I thought it would trouble her so. But I begin to feel as if I must tell her. I don't like keeping things from her."
"I'd tell her if I were you," said Kate. "I think she'd like you to tell her. If she's the kind of mother I take her for, she'll not be hard on you."
"She will not be hard on me, I know," said Reuben, smiling; "it's only that I don't want her to fret about me."
"I should like to know your mother," said Kate.
"Well, perhaps you will some day," he replied.
"I wish I'd had such a mother," said the girl, a sorrowful look coming into her eyes. "My mother used to drink and beat me. I might have been a better girl if I'd had a different sort of mother."
"You'll be a better girl yet, Kate."
She shook her head.
"Why not?" he said, with some hesitation. "Perhaps that is why the accident came to you—that you might have time to think about your life, and resolve to make it better."
"What is the good of thinking?" she said sharply. "I'm sick of thinking."
Reuben was silent.
"Reuben," she said, after a pause, "they say at the yard that you're religious. Is that true?"
"I hope so," he said, colouring.
"What is it to be religious?" she asked.
Reuben hardly knew how to answer this question. There seemed to him so much involved in it.
"I suppose," he began, awkwardly, "that a religious person is one who fears God."
"Fears God," she repeated. "How can that be? I fear God, but I am not a religious person. I felt dreadfully afraid of God when I thought I was going to die."
"Oh, but it's not that kind of fear," said Reuben. "I don't know how to explain it. But it's more like the kind of fear children have of their parents. They fear to offend them because they love them."
"Must one have good parents in order to be religious?" asked Kate.
"Oh no; surely you know better than that!" said Reuben. "Religion is for every one. I mean God wants everybody to trust Him and love Him. That is why He sent His Son into the world to be our Saviour."
"Tell me more about it," said Kate eagerly.
But at this moment one of the nurses came up to warn Reuben that he had stayed as long as he should.
"Oh, I do not want you to go yet," said Kate, looking vexed. Then, as Reuben came near to bid her good-bye, she said, almost in a whisper, "Tell me before you go—does being religious make things easier?"
"Make things easier?" he repeated, not catching her meaning.
"Yes, does it make things easier to bear? Does it help you to bear being turned away from the factory and knowing that people think you a thief?"
Reuben's face grew crimson; but he answered, without a moment's hesitation: "It does make it easier, very much easier. Indeed, I could not bear it but for that."
CHAPTER IX.
THE CLOUD IS LIFTED.
WHILST engaged in his weary search for employment, it occurred to Reuben that Owen Grant, who knew so much about the ways of town, might be able to help him, or at least give him advice as to the best way of seeking a situation. It would not be agreeable to Reuben to confess to Owen that he had lost his place at the factory, and was under suspicion of dishonesty, but he was not one to forego any course of action simply because it involved what was painful.
So subduing his reluctance, he went one evening to the draper's shop he had before visited, and entering, looked round for Owen. But a girl was now seated at the high desk receiving cash, and Owen was not to be seen. The next minute the shop-walker advanced to inquire what his business might be, and Reuben asked if he could speak to Owen Grant.
"He is not here," said the man, to Reuben's surprise; "he went away on Saturday."
"Went away!" said Reuben. "Has he gone for a holiday, sir?"
"He has gone for good—or bad," was the curt rejoinder. "Perhaps he went home, but I do not know. I can give you no information concerning him."
Reuben turned away very much surprised. He received no response to his quiet "good evening," and he fancied that the shop-walker eyed him suspiciously as he passed out of the shop.
"But why should he?" Reuben asked himself. "Perhaps it is only my fancy. I am getting to expect that people should look doubtfully at me. It is not likely that that man can know that I have been turned away from the works."
Reuben wondered very much what could be the explanation of Owen's having left the business where he had boasted that he was doing so well. Could he have fallen into any trouble akin to that which he, Reuben, was suffering? Reuben's sympathy went out towards him at the very thought.
Two days later Reuben went again to the hospital to see Kate. He found her greatly excited, but not on her own account. She had been shocked and grieved by hearing of a terrible case that had been brought into the ward that day. A man had been knocked down in the street by a cab, and so injured that it was feared he could not live.
"And oh, Reuben," exclaimed Kate excitedly, "as they carried him past this bed, I saw his face, and I am almost sure that I have seen him at the works. I don't fancy he is one of the 'hands,' but I believe that I have seen him there. Perhaps you would recognise him. Do try to get a look at him before you go. His bed is in that corner, behind the screen."
"But if he is so ill, he will not care to be looked at, perhaps," said Reuben, shrinking rather from approaching the poor sufferer.
"Oh, he will not see you, he is unconscious. He was groaning terribly last night, but they say he does not feel actual pain."
So Reuben moved gently towards the bed in the corner, and peeping round the side of the screen, saw the face of the injured man, white and still, turned towards him. The sight sent a strange thrill through him, for there was something familiar in the grizzled hair, the thin lined face, the scanty beard. It was the old man he had seen in the yard with Savage on the fateful morning, which now hung dream-like in his memory, though he was convinced of the reality of all he had seen and heard at that early hour.
"Who is he?" whispered Kate eagerly, as he came back to her side. "You know him; I can see you know him."
"I do not know his name," said Reuben, "but I believe he is a friend of Mr. Savage's. I have seen him in the yard."
"So have I," exclaimed Kate eagerly; "I have seen him speaking to Nat Savage. A horrid-looking old man, I thought him. But, poor fellow, one can only pity him now."
"If you know anything of that patient, we should be glad to hear it," said the sister in charge of the ward, overhearing their words; "we could find no trace of his identity, and no one seems to have made inquiries concerning him. Who is he?"
"I cannot tell you," said Reuben "I only know that I've seen him in the yard at Akenside's works, talking with the foreman."
"Who is the foreman? Cannot you let him know that this man is here?"
Reuben was silent. The suggestion seemed to cause him dismay.
"I don't work at Akenside's now," he said, after a pause.
"Well, what if you do not?" said the lady, not understanding; "you can surely carry a message there. Do go at once! I fear the poor old man cannot live long. Think what it is for him to lie there, alone and friendless."
Still Reuben hesitated. He would rather she had asked him to walk through fire, he thought, than to enter the work-yard from which he had been so disgracefully dismissed.
"Do go, Reuben," said Kate gently; "I know how you feel, and that Savage is the last man you wish to speak with, but do it for the sake of the poor old man."
And Reuben went. He approached the works with the hope that he might see some one about who would carry the message for him. But the hope was disappointed. It was the middle of the afternoon, and every one was busy. He saw no one at leisure to whom he dared entrust the message.
"Why, Reuben, lad, it's never you," said the old gate-keeper.
Reuben winced at the words, though the tone was kind.
"Yes, it's me, Samuel," Reuben replied; "I've come with a message to Mr. Savage. Can you tell me where I shall find him?"
Samuel indicated the building in which he believed the foreman to be, and then stood watching the lad with an air of amazement as he made his way to it. It seemed to him an extraordinary thing that Reuben should come there and ask for Mr. Savage of all persons. He only hoped that it boded good, that something was in the wind that might restore Reuben to his old place in Mr. Akenside's esteem. But he could not persuade himself that such a thing was likely.
Savage was standing just within the workshop, talking in his usual loud dictatorial tone, when Reuben approached.
Turning quickly and seeing Reuben beside him, he fairly started with surprise. Then, annoyed at having betrayed himself thus, he turned fiercely upon the young man.
"You here!" he exclaimed. "How dare you enter the yard, you rascal? You ought to be in gaol by rights. It was mistaken kindness, in my opinion, to let you go free, and now you have the audacity to show your face here! Be off with you, or I'll give you in charge."
"I came here in order to speak with you, Mr. Savage," said Reuben quietly, though his whole soul was aflame with indignation; "and let me warn you to be careful what you say, for I have surely as much right to be at large as you have. There is an old man at the hospital, seriously injured, who I believe is a friend of yours—at least, I have seen him with you more than once. No one there knows who he is, and they fear he cannot live. They want you to go to the hospital and identify him."
Savage had changed colour whilst Reuben was speaking. He grew so white that not Reuben alone observed it, but all the workpeople who were near, listening curiously to what passed.
"What do you mean?" he asked defiantly. "What cock-and-bull story is this? I know no man at the hospital."
"You know this man," said Reuben; "he is an old man with greyish hair and a short grey beard. I tell you I have seen him with you more than once. But you can do as you like about coming. I have told you."
"A pretty thing to tell me," cried Savage. "How am I to know what man it is? But we know your talent for inventing stories, Reuben Roy."
The taunt was lost upon Reuben, who had turned hurriedly away, only too anxious to leave the place. But ere he had gone many steps, he ran against Mr. Akenside, who was as astonished to see him as Savage had been.
"Reuben," he said sternly, "why are you here?"
Reuben flushed crimson, and for a moment he hung his head and could not reply. But happily, he remembered that he had no true cause for shame, and he lifted his eyes and looked Mr. Akenside full in the face as he explained the errand on which he had come.
"Ah, I see," said the gentleman; "it was right of you to come. Is Mr. Savage going at once to the hospital?"
"I think not," said Reuben. "He says he does not know the man."
"But how is that? You say you recognised him as one you had seen with Savage."
"Mr. Akenside," said Reuben, speaking with difficulty, "you will not believe me, I know, but I have always told you the truth. This man at the hospital is the man I saw in the yard with Mr. Savage on that morning when your goods were taken."
Mr. Akenside's face clouded. He looked puzzled, perplexed, embarrassed.
"I cannot understand it," he said coldly. "I had better come to the hospital and see the man myself."
Reuben moved on and walked home to his lodging, feeling faint and heart-sick. Every one was against him; no one would believe his word. Savage was prosperous and elate; whilst he who had always acted truthfully and honestly towards his master was cast off without a character, to starve!
Poor Reuben! His spirit sank utterly within him when he reached his lone attic. He could no longer fight against despair. There seemed no help for him in heaven or on earth. Even God seemed afar off and pitiless.
The depression which overcame him and made him cast himself in anguish on his bed was to a great extent the result of physical causes. The poor lad was half starved. For weeks he had been living on insufficient food, whilst tramping about in search of work, or doing such chance jobs as he could find. It was no wonder he broke down now. But the suffering was sore, and Reuben never forgot it.
Happily it was the last dark hour before the dawn. It was late in the day ere Mr. Akenside could get to the hospital. When he arrived, the poor old man was near his end. With the approach of death, perfect consciousness had returned to him. At the sight of Mr. Akenside, he became greatly agitated. A guilty conscience made him believe his crime already discovered, and a few questions from Mr. Akenside elicited a full confession of the systematic robbery from the works, which, in confederacy with Savage, he had been carrying on for years.
Mr. Akenside was inexpressibly shocked to discover how he had been deceived by the servant in whom he had placed entire confidence. He spoke seriously to the aged sinner, who had revealed this hidden evil of his past, trying hard to bring him to a state of true penitence. But who could say if there were genuine feeling in the few words of contrition the sufferer uttered ere he passed away, or whether they were merely the expression of a craven fear? There may be hope, but there is no bright light at eventide about the death-bed of one whose life has been spent in the service of sin.
On the following day, Nathaniel Savage was committed to prison to await his trial, and Reuben's innocence of the crime imputed to him was proclaimed in the hearing of every one at the works. For Savage's accomplice had kept back nothing, but had explained how Savage, whilst Reuben lay senseless in the yard, had, in order to remove suspicion from themselves, stealthily entered the gatehouse, and creeping noiselessly up the stairs, contrived to conceal some of the stolen goods under Reuben's bed, and left a key lying about as further evidence of his guilt.
Every one appeared glad to hear the news about Reuben, and no one, except Mr. Akenside, seemed astounded by the fact of Savage's villainy, for by many a wrong unjust act, the foreman had revealed to those under his orders what kind of man he was.
Reuben did not at once return to his place at the works. Mr. Akenside was grieved to find how much the lad had suffered. His pale, pinched face told of his loss of strength. And Mr. Akenside kindly insisted on his accepting a sum of money, which Reuben thought a far more munificent compensation than he had any right to expect, and going home for a long holiday ere he began work again.