A KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY by Edward Payson Roe (red seas under red skies .TXT) π
Read free book Β«A KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY by Edward Payson Roe (red seas under red skies .TXT) πΒ» - read online or download for free at americanlibrarybooks.com
- Author: Edward Payson Roe
Read book online Β«A KNIGHT OF THE NINETEENTH CENTURY by Edward Payson Roe (red seas under red skies .TXT) πΒ». Author - Edward Payson Roe
"Me And Misther Haldane," Answered a Voice Without In broadest Brogue.
"Mr. Haldane!" Exclaimed mr. Arnot Excitedly; "What Can This Mean? Who
Is _Me?_" He Next Asked loudly.
"Me Is Pat M'Cabe, Sure; The Same As Tidies Up The Office And Does Yer
Irrinds. Mr. Haldane'S Had A Bad Turn, And I'Ve Brought Him Home."
As Mr. Arnot Swung Open The Door, A Man, Who Seemingly Had Been Leaning
Against It, Fell Prone Within The Hall. Laura Gave A Slight Scream, And
Mrs. Arnot Was Much Alarmed, Thinking That Haldane Was Suffering From
Some Sudden And Alarming attack. Thoughts Of At Once Telegraphing To His
Mother Were Entering Her Mind, When The Object Of Her Solicitude Tried
To Rise, And Mumbled in the Thick Utterance Of Intoxication:
"This Isn'T Home. Take Me To Mother'S."
Mrs. Arnot'S Eyes Turned questioningly To Her Husband, And She Saw That
His Face Was Dark With Anger And Disgust.
"He Is Drunk," He Said, Turning To Pat, Who Stood In the Door, Cap In
Hand.
"Faix, Sur, It Looks Moighty Loike It. But It'S Not For A Dacent Sober
Man Loike Meself To Spake Sartainly O' Sich Matters."
"Few Words And To The Point, Sir," Said Mr. Arnot Harshly; "Your Breath
Tells Where You Have Been. But Where Did You Find This--And How Came You
To Find Him?"
Either Mr. Arnot Was At A Loss For A Term Which Would Express His
Estimation Of The Young Man, Who Had Slowly And Unsteadily Risen, And
Was Supporting Himself By Holding Fast The Hatrack, Or He Was Restrained
In His Utterance By The Presence Of His Wife.
"Well, Sur," Said Pat, With As Ingenuous And Candid An Air As If He Were
Telling The Truth, "The Wife O' A Neighbor O' Mine Was Taken On A
Suddint, And I Went For The Docther, And As I Was A Comin' Home, Who
Shud I See Sittin' On A Doorsthep But Misther Haldane, And I Thought It
Me Duty To Bring Him Home To Yees."
"You Have Done Right. Was It On The Doorstep Of A Drinking-Place You
Found Him?"
"I'M Athinkin' It Was, Sur; It Had That Sort O' Look."
Mr. Arnot Turned to His Wife And Said Coldly, "You Now See How It Works.
But This Is Not A Fit Object For You And Laura To Look Upon; So Please
Retire. I Will See That He Gets Safely To His Room. I Suppose He Must Go
There, Though The Station-House Is The More Proper Place For Him."
"He Certainly Must Go To His Own Room," Said Mrs. Arnot, Firmly But
Quietly.
"Well, Then, Steady Him Along Up The Stairs, Pat. I Will Show You Where
To Put The--" And Mr. Arnot Again Seemed to Hesitate For A Term, But The
Blank Was More Expressive Of His Contempt Than Any Epithet Could Be,
Since His Tone And Manner Suggested the Worst.
Returning To The Parlor, Mrs. Arnot Found Laura'S Face Expressive Of The
Deepest Alarm And Distress.
"O Auntie, What Does All This Mean? Am I In any Way To Blame? He Said He
Would Go To Ruin If I Didn'T--But How Could I?"
"No, My Dear, You Are Not In the Slightest Degree To Blame. Mr. Haldane
Seems Both Bad And Foolish. I Feel To-Night That He Is Not Worthy To
Speak To You; Much Less Is He Fit To Be Intrusted with That Which You
Will Eventually Give, I Hope, Only To One Who Is Pre-Eminently Noble And
Good. Come With Me To Your Room, My Child. I Am Very Sorry I Permitted
You To Stay Up To-Night."
But Laura Was Sleepless And Deeply Troubled; She Had Never Seen A
Laborer--Much Less One Of Her Own Acquaintances--In Haldane'S Condition
Before; And To Her Young, Innocent Mind The Event Had Almost The
Character Of A Tragedy. Although Conscious Of Entire Blamelessness, She
Supposed that She Was More Directly The Cause Of Haldane'S Behavior Than
Was True, And That He Was Carrying Out His Threat To Destroy Himself By
Reckless Dissipation. She Did Not Know That He Had Been Beguiled into
His Miserable Condition Through Bad Habits Of Long Standing, And That He
Had Fallen Into The Clutches Of Those Who Always Infest Public Haunts,
And Live By Preying Upon The Fast, Foolish, And Unwary. Haldane, From
His Character And Associations, Was Liable To Such An Experience
Whenever Circumstances Combined to Make It Possible. Young Men With No
More Principle Than He Possessed are Never Safe From Disaster, And They
Who Trust Them Trust Rather To The Chances Of Their Not Meeting The
Peculiar Temptations And Tests To Which They Would Prove Unequal. Laura
Could Not Then Know How Little She Had To Do With The Tremendous
Downfall Of Her Premature Lover. The Same Conditions Given, He Would
Probably Have Met With The Same Experience Upon Any Occasion. After His
First Glass Of Punch The Small Degree Of Discretion That He Had Learned
Thus Far In life Began To Desert Him; And Every Man As He Becomes
Intoxicated is First A Fool, And Then The Victim Of Every One Who
Chooses To Take Advantage Of His Voluntary Helplessness And Degradation.
But Innocent Laura Saw A Romantic And Tragic Element In the Painful
Event, And She Fell Asleep With Some Vague Womanly Thoughts About Saving
A Fellow-Creature By The Sacrifice Of Herself. However, The Morning
Light, The Truth Concerning Haldane, And Her Own Good Sense, Would
Banish Such Morbid Fancies. Indeed the Worst Possible Way In which A
Young Woman Can Set About Reforming a Bad Man Is To Marry Him. The Usual
Result Is Greatly Increased guilt On The Part Of The Husband, And
Lifelong, Hopeless Wretchedness For The Wife.
Chapter IX (Pat And The Press)Pat Having Steadied and Half Carried haldane To His Room, Mr. Arnot
Demanded of His Clerk What Had Become Of The Money Intrusted to His
Care; But His Only Answer Was A Stupid, Uncomprehending Stare.
"Hold His Hands," Said Mr. Arnot Impatiently.
M'Cabe Having Obeyed, The Man Of Business, Whose Solicitude In the
Affair Had No Concern With The Young Man'S Immeasurable Loss, But
Related only To His Own Money, Immediately Felt In haldane'S Pockets For
The Envelopes Which Had Contained the Thousand Dollars In currency. The
Envelopes Were Safe Enough--One Evidently Opened with The Utmost Care,
And The Other Torn Recklessly--But The Money Was Gone.
When Haldane Saw The Envelopes, There Was A Momentary Expression Of
Trouble And Perplexity Upon His Face, And He Tried to Speak; But His
Thick Utterance Was Unintelligible. This Gleam Of Intelligence Passed
Quickly, However, And The Stupor Of Intoxication Reasserted itself. His
Heavy Eyelids Drooped, And Pat With Difficulty Could Keep Him On His
Feet.
"Toss Him There On The Lounge; Take Off His Muddy Boots. Nothing Further
Can Be Done While He Is In this Beastly Condition," Said Mr. Arnot, In a
Voice That Was As Harsh As The Expression Of His Face.
The Empty Envelopes And Mr. Arnot'S Dark Looks Suggested a Great Deal To
Pat, And He Saw That One Of His "Sprees" Was An Innocent Matter Compared
With This Affair.
"Now, Go Down To My Study And Wait There For Me."
Pat Obeyed in a Very Steady And Decorous Manner, For The Matter Was
Assuming Such Gravity As To Sober Him Completely.
Mr. Arnot Satisfied himself That There Was No Chance Of Escape From The
Windows, And Then, After Another Look Of Disgust And Anger At Haldane,
Who Was Now Sleeping Heavily, He Took The Key From The Door, And Locked
It On The Outside.
Descending To His Study, The Irate Gentleman Next Wrote A Note, And Gave
It To His Porter, Saying:
"Take That To The Police-Headquarters, And Ask That It Be Sent To The
Superintendent At Once. No Mistake, Now, As You Value Your Place; And
Mind, Not A Word Of All This To Any One."
"Faix, Sir, I'Ll Be As Dumb As An Oyster, And Do Yer Biddin' In a
Jiffy," Said Pat, Backing Out Of The Room, And Glad To Escape From One
Whose Threatening aspect Seemed to Forebode Evil To Any One Within His
Reach.
"He Looks Black Enough To Murther The Poor Young Spalpeen," Muttered the
Irishman, As He Hastened to Do His Errand, Remembering Now With
Trepidation That, Though He Had Escaped from His Master, The Big,
Red-Faced, Stout-Armed wife Of His Bosom Was Still To Be Propitiated
After His Late Prowlings.
When He Entered the Main Street, A Light That Glimmered from The Top Of
A Tall Building Suggested how He Might Obtain That Kind Of Oil Which,
Cast Upon The Domestic Billows That So Often Raged in his Fourth-Floor
Back Room, Was Most Effective In producing a Little Temporary
Smoothness.
Since The Weather Was Always Fouler Within His Domestic Haven Than
Without, And On This Occasion Threatened to Be At Its Worst, Pat At One
Time Half Decided not To Run Into Port At All; But The Glimmer Of The
Light Already Mentioned suggested another Course.
Although The Night Was Far Spent, Pat Still Longed for A "Wink O' Slape"
Before Going To His Work, And, In order To Enjoy It, Knew That He Must
Obtain The Means Of Allaying The Storm, Which Was Not Merely Brewing,
But Which, From The Lateness Of The Hour, Had Long Been Brewed. In his
Own Opinion, The Greenness Of His Native Isle Had Long Ago Faded from
His Mental And Moral Complexion, And He Did Not Propose That Any Stray
Dollars, Which By Any Shrewdness Or Artifice Could Be Diverted into His
Pocket, Should Get By Him.
Since His Wife Had Developed into A Huge, Female Divinity, At Whose
Shrine It Seemed probable That He Would Eventually Become A Human
Sacrifice, And Whose Wrath, In the Meantime, It Was His Daily Task To
Appease, Pat Had Gradually Formed the Habit Of Making a Sort Of
Companion Of Himself. In accordance With His Custom, Therefore, He
Stopped under The High Window From Whence Gleamed the Light, For The
Sake Of A Little Personal Counsel.
"Now, Pat," He Muttered, "If Yees Had Gone Home At Nine O'Clock, Yees
Wudn'T Be Afeared to Go Home Now; And If Yees Go Home Now Widout A
Dollar More Or Less, The Ould 'Ooman Will Make Yer Wish Yees Had Set On
The Curbstone The Rest O' The Night. They Sez Some Men Has No Bowels O'
Marcies; And After What I'Ve Seen The Night, And Afore The Night, Too, I
Kin Belave That Boss Arnot'S In'Ards Were Cast At The Same Foundry Where
He Gets His Mash-Shines. He Told Me That I Must Spake Nary A Word About
What I'Ve Seen And Heard, And If I Should Thry To Turn An Honest Penny
By Givin' A Knowin' Wink Or Two Where They Wud Pay For The Same, That
'Ud Be The Ind Of Pat M'Cabe At The Big Office. And Yet They Sez That
Them As Buys News Is Loike Them That Takes Stolen Goods--Moighty Willin'
To Kape Dark About Where They Got It, So That They Kin Get More Next
Time. That'S The Iditor Of The 'Currier' In yon High Room, And P'Raps
He'Ll Pay Me As Much For A Wink And A Hint The Night As I'Ll Get For Me
Day'S Work Termorrow. Bust Me If I Don'T Thry Him, If He'Ll Fust Promise
Me To Say It Any One Axes Him That He Niver Saw Pat M'Cabe In his
Loife," And The Suddenly Improvised reporter Climbed the Long Stairways
To Where The Night Editor Sat At His Desk.
Pat Gave A Hearty Rap For Manners, But As The Night Was Waning He Walked
In Without Waiting For An Answer, And Addressed the Startled newspaper
Man With A Business-Like Directness, Which Might Often Be Advantageously
Imitated:
"Is This The Shop Where Yer Pays A Dacent Price For News?"
"It Depends On The Importance Of The News, And Its Truthfulness,"
Answered the Editor, After Eying The Intruder Suspiciously For A Moment.
"Thin I'Ve Got Ye On Both Counts, Though I Didn'T Think Ye'D Bear Down
So Heavy On Its Being Thrue," Said Pat, Advancing Confidently.
As The Door Of The Press-Room, In which Men Were At Work, Stood Open,
The Editor Felt No Alarm From The Sudden Appearance Of The Burly
Comments (0)