Выбрать главу

'That means east,' said Charles. The night had been cold as winter, but the hill was a steep one and we grew warm as we climbed. Wrhen we got to the top, the sun was higher in the sky and the day was lightening up. I thought, The morning has broken.— I thought of the morning like an egg, that had split with a crack and was spreading. Before us lay all the green country of England, with its rivers and its roads and its hedges, its churches, its chimneys, its rising threads of smoke. The chimneys grew taller, the roads and rivers wider, the threads of smoke more thick, the farther off the country spread; until at last, at the farthest point of all, they made a smudge, a stain, a darkness— a darkness, like the darkness of the coal in a fire— a darkness that was broken, here and there, where the sun caught panes of glass and the golden tips of domes and steeples, with glittering points of light.

'London,' I said. 'Oh, London!'

299

Chapter Sixteen

Still, it took all that day to reach it. We might have found out the railway station and taken a train: but I thought we ought to keep the little money we had left, for food. We walked for a while with a boy who had a great big basket on his back, that he had f i l l e d w i t h o n i o n s : h e s h o w e d u s t o a p l a c e where waggons came, to pick up vegetables for the city markets. We had missed the best of the traffic, but we got a ride, in the end, with a man with a slow horse, taking scarlet beans to Hammersmith. He said Charles made him think of his son— Charles had that sort of face— so I let them ride up front together, and sat in the back of the cart, with the beans. I sat with my cheek against a crate, my eyes on the road ahead, and now and then the road would rise and show us London again, grown a little nearer. I might have slept; but I couldn't keep from watching. I watched as the roads began to be busier and the country hedges began to give way to palings and walls; I watched the leaf become brick, the grass become cinders and dust, the ditches

kerb-stones. When once the cart drew close to the side of a house that was pasted, two inches thick, with fluttering bills, I reached and tore free a strip of poster— held it for a second, then let it fly. It had a picture of a hand upon it, holding a pistol. It left soot on my fingers. Then I knew I was home.

From Hammersmith, we walked. That part of London was strange to me, but I found I knew my way all right— just as I had known, in the country, which road to take at a fork. Charles walked beside me, blinking, and sometimes catching hold of the cuff of my sleeve; in the end I took his hand to lead him across a street, and he let his fingers stay there. I saw us reflected in the glass of a great shop window— me in my bonnet, him in his plain pea- jacket— we looked like the Babes in the bloody Wood.

Then we reached Westminster, and got our first proper view of the river; and I had to stop.

'Wait, Charles,' I said, putting my hand to my heart and turning away from him. I did not want him to see me so stirred up. But then, the sharpest part of my feelings being over, I began to think.

'We ought not to cross the water just yet,' I said, as we walked on. I was thinking of who we might bump into. Suppose we chanced upon Gentleman? Or, suppose he chanced upon us? I did not think he would put a hand upon me, himself; but fifteen thousand pounds is a deal of money, and I knew he was up to hiring bullies to do his bad work for him. I had not thought of this, until now. I had thought only of reaching London. I began to look about me, in a new way. Charles saw me do it.

'What is it, miss?' he said.

'Nothing,' I answered. 'Only, I'm afraid there may still be men, sent out by Dr Christie.

Let's cut down here.'

I took him down a dark and narrow street. But then I thought, a dark and narrow street 300

would be the worst kind of street to be caught in. I turned instead— we were somewhere near Charing Cross now— into the Strand; and after a time we came to the end of a road that had one or two little stalls, selling second-hand clothes. I went to the first we came to, and bought Charles a woollen scarf. For myself, I got a veil. The man who sold it to me teased me.

'Don't care for a hat, instead?' he said. 'Your face is too pretty to hide.'

I held out my hand for my half-penny change. 'All right,' I said, impatient. 'So's my arse.'

Charles flinched. I did not care. I put on the veil and felt better. It looked badly above my bonnet and pale print gown, but I thought I might pass for a girl with scars, or with some kind of ailment of the face. I made Charles draw the woollen scarf about his mouth and pull down his cap. When he complained that the day was hot I said,

'If I get taken by Dr Christie's spies before I bring you to Mr Rivers, how hot do you think you'll find it, then?'

He looked ahead, to the crush of coaches and horses at Ludgate Hill. It was six o'clock, and the traffic was at its worst.

'Then when will you bring me to him?' he said. 'And how much further does he live?'

'Not much at all. But, we must be careful. I have to think. Let us find somewhere quiet We ended up at St Paul's. We went in, and I sat in one of the pews while Charles walked about and looked at the statues. I thought, 'I must only get to Lant Street, and then I shall be saved'; but what was worrying me was the thought of the story that Gentleman might have put about the Borough. Say all of Mr Ibbs's nephews had had their hearts turned against me? Say I met John Vroom before I reached Mrs Sucksby?

His heart did not need turning; and he would know me, even behind my veil. I must be careful. I should have to study the house— make my move only when I knew how the land lay. It was hard, to be cautious and slow; but I thought of my mother, who had not been cautious enough. Look what happened to her.

I shivered. St Paul's was cold, even in July. The glass at the windows was losing its colours, as the afternoon turned to night. At Dr Christie's, now, they would be waking us up to take us down to our suppers. We would have bread-and-butter, and a pint of tea . . . Charles came and sat beside me. I heard him sigh. He had his cap in his hands, and his fair hair shone. His lip was perfectly pink.

Three boys in white gowns went about with flames on sticks of brass, lighting more lamps and candles; and I looked at him and thought how well he would fit in among them, in a gown of his

own.

Then I looked at his coat. It was a good one, though rather

marked by dust.

'How much money have we now, Charles?' I said.

We had a penny and a half. I took him to a pawn-shop on Watling Street, and we pledged his coat for two shillings.

He cried as he handed it over.

'Oh, how,' he said, 'shall I ever see Mr Rivers now? He'll never want a boy in shirt-sleeves!'

301

I said we would get the coat back in a day or two. I bought him some shrimps and a piece of bread-and-butter, and a cup of tea.

'London shrimps,' I said. 'Yum, ain't they lovely?'

He did not answer. When we walked on, he walked a step behind me with his arms about himself, his eyes on the ground. His eyes were red— from tears, and also from grit.