Old John did not walk near the Golden Key, for between the GoldenKey and the Black Lion there lay a wilderness of streets--aseverybody knows who is acquainted with the relative bearings ofClerkenwell and Whitechapel--and he was by no means famous forpedestrian exercises. But the Golden Key lies in our way, thoughit was out of his; so to the Golden Key this chapter goes.
The Golden Key itself, fair emblem of the locksmith"s trade, hadbeen pulled down by the rioters, and roughly trampled under foot.
But, now, it was hoisted up again in all the glory of a new coat ofpaint, and shewed more bravely even than in days of yore. Indeedthe whole house-front was spruce and trim, and so freshened upthroughout, that if there yet remained at large any of the rioterswho had been concerned in the attack upon it, the sight of the old,goodly, prosperous dwelling, so revived, must have been to them asgall and wormwood.
The shutters of the shop were closed, however, and the window-blinds above were all pulled down, and in place of its usualcheerful appearance, the house had a look of sadness and an air ofmourning; which the neighbours, who in old days had often seen poorBarnaby go in and out, were at no loss to understand. The doorstood partly open; but the locksmith"s hammer was unheard; the catsat moping on the ashy forge; all was deserted, dark, and silent.
On the threshold of this door, Mr Haredale and Edward Chester met.
The younger man gave place; and both passing in with a familiarair, which seemed to denote that they were tarrying there, or werewell-accustomed to go to and fro unquestioned, shut it behind them.
Entering the old back-parlour, and ascending the flight of stairs,abrupt and steep, and quaintly fashioned as of old, they turnedinto the best room; the pride of Mrs Varden"s heart, and erst thescene of Miggs"s household labours.
"Varden brought the mother here last evening, he told me?" said MrHaredale.
"She is above-stairs now--in the room over here," Edward rejoined.
"Her grief, they say, is past all telling. I needn"t add--for thatyou know beforehand, sir--that the care, humanity, and sympathy ofthese good people have no bounds."
"I am sure of that. Heaven repay them for it, and for much more!
Varden is out?"
"He returned with your messenger, who arrived almost at the momentof his coming home himself. He was out the whole night--but thatof course you know. He was with you the greater part of it?"
"He was. Without him, I should have lacked my right hand. He isan older man than I; but nothing can conquer him."
"The cheeriest, stoutest-hearted fellow in the world."
"He has a right to be. He has a right to he. A better creaturenever lived. He reaps what he has sown--no more."
"It is not all men," said Edward, after a moment"s hesitation, "whohave the happiness to do that."
"More than you imagine," returned Mr Haredale. "We note theharvest more than the seed-time. You do so in me."
In truth his pale and haggard face, and gloomy bearing, had so farinfluenced the remark, that Edward was, for the moment, at a lossto answer him.
"Tut, tut," said Mr Haredale, ""twas not very difficult to read athought so natural. But you are mistaken nevertheless. I havehad my share of sorrows--more than the common lot, perhaps, but Ihave borne them ill. I have broken where I should have bent; andhave mused and brooded, when my spirit should have mixed with allGod"s great creation. The men who learn endurance, are they whocall the whole world, brother. I have turned FROM the world, and Ipay the penalty."
Edward would have interposed, but he went on without giving himtime.
"It is too late to evade it now. I sometimes think, that if I hadto live my life once more, I might amend this fault--not so much, Idiscover when I search my mind, for the love of what is right, asfor my own sake. But even when I make these better resolutions, Iinstinctively recoil from the idea of suffering again what I haveundergone; and in this circumstance I find the unwelcome assurancethat I should still be the same man, though I could cancel thepast, and begin anew, with its experience to guide me."
"Nay, you make too sure of that," said Edward.
"You think so," Mr Haredale answered, "and I am glad you do. Iknow myself better, and therefore distrust myself more. Let usleave this subject for another--not so far removed from it as itmight, at first sight, seem to be. Sir, you still love my niece,and she is still attached to you."
"I have that assurance from her own lips," said Edward, "and youknow--I am sure you know--that I would not exchange it for anyblessing life could yield me."
"You are frank, honourable, and disinterested," said Mr Haredale;"you have forced the conviction that you are so, even on my once-jaundiced mind, and I believe you. Wait here till I come back."
He left the room as he spoke; but soon returned with his niece.
"On that first and only time," he said, looking from the one to theother, "when we three stood together under her father"s roof, Itold you to quit it, and charged you never to return."
"It is the only circumstance arising out of our love," observedEdward, "that I have forgotten."
"You own a name," said Mr Haredale, "I had deep reason to remember.
I was moved and goaded by recollections of personal wrong andinjury, I know, but, even now I cannot charge myself with having,then, or ever, lost sight of a heartfelt desire for her truehappiness; or with having acted--however much I was mistaken--withany other impulse than the one pure, single, earnest wish to be toher, as far as in my inferior nature lay, the father she had lost."
"Dear uncle," cried Emma, "I have known no parent but you. I haveloved the memory of others, but I have loved you all my life.
Never was father kinder to his child than you have been to me,without the interval of one harsh hour, since I can firstremember."
"You speak too fondly," he answered, "and yet I cannot wish youwere less partial; for I have a pleasure in hearing those words,and shall have in calling them to mind when we are far asunder,which nothing else could give me. Bear with me for a momentlonger, Edward, for she and I have been together many years; andalthough I believe that in resigning her to you I put the seal uponher future happiness, I find it needs an effort."
He pressed her tenderly to his bosom, and after a minute"s pause,resumed: