Will it lift? The story of a London fog

Front matter

WILL IT LIFT? "Do you remember a small fanner '"—Pose 40. Will It Lift? Œbe 5toi*£ of a Xonfcon Jfoo. BY J. JACKSON WRAYv. AUTHOR OF "SIMON HOLMES, THE CARPENTER," "THE SECRET OF THE MERE," " NESTLETON MAGNA," etc. etc. etc. LONDON: JAMES NISBET & CO.. 21 BERNERS STREET. MnCCCLXXXVIII. CONTENTS. CHAP. TAGE I. AX AWKWAED PREDICAMENT I II. THE LAND OF SHADOW II III. HOW THE SHADOW FELL 21 IV. GILBERT CRASKE IS FAIRLY NONPLUSSED. . . 32 V. GILBERT CRASKE MEETS WITH JIMMIE SLADD . . 42 VI. JARED HIGGINBOTHAM SEES MORE THAN IS GOOD FOR HIM 51 VII. SONGS IN THE NIGHT 61 VIII. PICKING UP GOLD AND SILVER 72 IX. "WELL, THIS IS A GO!" Si X. THERE IS ROOM FOR SUSPICION ... . . -92 XI. DOUBT RECEIVES ITS DEATH-BLOW- . . . IOO XII. THE LITTLE PRINT-SEOP IN THE STRAND . . IIO XIII. IN THE VALLEY OF MALALOO 1 19 XIV "LED BY THE NOSE WITH GOLD" . . .128 XV. A WELCOME

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36 XVI. "JARVIE'S" RECOMMENDATION I46 XVII. HOMEW-ARD BOUND 155 XVIII. WELCOME TO HILLDROP CONTENTS. VIII CHAP. PAGE XIX. AN AWKWARD INTERVIEW . . . . * . -173 XX. A SPIRIT FROM THE "VASTY DEEP" . . . . 1S2 XXI. MERCY GRAYTHORPE'S PRESCRIPTION . . .190 XXII. WHAT HAPPENED TO THE BOX OF GOLD . . . 20O XXIII. FOUND AT LAST 211 XXIV. "ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL" . . . .222

Chapter I. Ax Awkward Predicament

It was a dull, damp, dismal evening in late November. The all-pervading fog peculiar to that month of gloom in the big, bustling, almost boundless London town, had settled thick and dark and heavy upon street and square, upon park and garden, upon court and alley, wrap ping all things in its chill moist garments, hiding all things beneath its dense grey pall. It is well known that the metropolis of Great Britain is not to be equalled, much less is it to be sur passed, in the manufacture of a real downright, thorough-groina; article of this kind ; and on the occasion to which I now refer it had produced an illustration of its skill in this direction which was quite a notability — a fog that might well be regarded as being about the most perfect of its A kind. The sombre shades of night were rendered still more sombre by the dense amalgam of smoke and vapour which made of the mighty city nothing more than a huefe brown blotch be neath the leaden sky ; or, let us say, a steaming cauldron in which was seething a mixture more mysterious, and, as I should fancy, more dis tasteful, than the startling "brew" concocted on a plain in Northern Britain by the three witches in " Macbeth."

Nowhere did the smoke counterpane lie more thick, heavy, and oppressive than in those narrow streets which lie behind the broad thor oughfare of Tottenham Court Road, and which seem to converge, as if with some design to link themselves to a region of gentility, on the once aristocratic Fitzroy Square. Very slowly and also very cautiously did the few solitary way farers who were of necessity abroad make progress towards the goal of their endeavour. They were eager enough to get out of the murky atmos phere, which made their eyes to smart and their lungs to ache ; and yet were wisely bent on walking warily, lest they should stumble into ills they knew not of. The light of the street lamps — I speak of bygone days, long before the electric light had warned the gas companies to set their house in order, and save it from untimely collapse by producing a maximum of light at a reduced if not at a minimum of cost — was all but swallowed up in the almost Egyptian gloom.

It was only by keeping careful and unbroken touch with walls and rail ings that pedestrians could make anything like safe and certain progress, and even then neither the certainty nor the safety could be at all assured. Moving forward in this slow and all but helpless fashion, a young woman was painfully striving to win the shelter of her humble home, if her dingy quarters, in a dingier street, could be called by that expressive and endearing name. On arriving at the corner of G oodge Street, she stood for several moments in dire uncertainty. To reach home she must lose touch of both wall and railing, for she needed to cross the road. By and-by she made an adventurous plunge into the deep fog-ocean, and had but barely left the kerbstone when a four-wheeled cab came upon her at unawares, and in an instant she was thrown upon the ground.

The horse, which was moving but slowly, considerately stopped, and the young woman's cry of alarm soon brought both the cabman and his "fare" to her relief. The fog-confused driver, however, still further confused by certain inward applications which he had swallowed to " keep the fog out," could see no source from whence the startling cry had come. "Gammon!" said he, using a term more ex pressive than polite. " Some young rascal havin' a lark. Should like to tip 'im a 'int wi' the whip." So saying, he prepared to mount his box aerain. If the thickness of his voice was owing to the fog, his inward appliances must have been of a faulty prescription, for it was evidently in his throat to some purpose. In all probability the prescription, as is often the case with alco holic recipes, had only served to aggravate the disease.

" Hold on, Jarvie ! " said a broad-shouldered, burly man, of middle age, with a bluff, cheery voice of his own. He had gone down on his hands and knees, and was groping among the horse's feet. " Hold on, Jarvie ; keep the horse quiet — I've found something in petticoats ! " So saying, he proceeded to remove the unknown something from her perilous position. Jarvie did not seem to realise the seriousness of the situation, for he responded in a maundering fashion — " Ha ! ha ! that's a good 'un, that is ; keep the horse still, eh ! He can manage that hisself. He'll stand as still as a statument from now till the day o' judgment, he will. He's a 'oss as hez a gift that way." The young woman had fallen into a dead faint, and her rescuer had a good deal of difficulty in effecting his kindly purpose.

At length he succeeded in seating her on the edg-e of the pavement, kneeling by her the wThile she leaned lifelessly upon his arm. " There, ma'am," said he heartily, unaware that she had lapsed into unconsciousness, "you're as right as ninepence, tho' wTby ninepence should have any particular credit attached to it, I don't know — a shilling beats it by threepen'oth of coppers. Tell me wdiere you live, and if that half-screwed Jarvie can find the wray, wTe'll put you down at your own doorstep, London parcels delivery, carriage paid." The appeal was made to deaf ears, however, and there was no reply. " Hallo ! " said the burly stranger, surveying his charge more closely. " Here's a go ! The woman's gone and fainted right off the reel. No, she reeled before she fainted. Heigho ! big parcel, perishable goods, marked ' Immediate,' and no address !

Gilbert Craske, you've got your hands full ! Jarvie, do you carry a smelling bottle?" " Consarn it, No ! " said the cabby, with the ready wit peculiar to his tribe. " Left it in the drorin'-room, beside my old ooman's fan." At the same time he drew near to make his own inspection of the case. Tenderly and patiently Gilbert Craske tried to bring her back to consciousness, but in vain ; and, to tell the truth, he began to feel not a little dismayed. All the shops wrere closed ; the density of the fog had effectively cleared the streets of all humankind, and the probability of his having the unknown " something " thrown on his hands made him feel uncommonly un comfortable. " Of course," said he to himself, " that's always the wTay with petticoats. Off they go into Non compos land with neither a ' with your leave ' nor a ' by your leave ! ' If her fainting would have done anybody the least good in all the world — would she ha' fainted then ?

Not she ! She'd ha' been as lively as a mouse in a corn bin. Queer folks, women ! " Again he turned his attention to his charge, venturing to shake her gently, in the vain hope that that might brine; her to. Then he shouted aloud, " Missis ! " with the hope that that might rouse her. " I say, Jarvie," said he to the cabman, " is there any sort of a hospi " " Here y' are ! " said the cabman, diving his hand into the capacious pocket of his threadbare overcoat. " Put a drop or two o' this here owdykolonn atween her lips. That'll fetch her to, if she ain't gone to kingdom come." So saying, he handed his fare a small flask of brandy, an article with which he himself was evidently sadly too familiar. Gilbert Craske made a wry face as he became acquainted with the contents of the flask. "Well," said he, "everything has a use, I suppose, even hornets, whipsnakes, an' dingoes.

I'd sooner set my heel on it ; but it may " While he was speaking he had forced a few drops of the spirit between the young woman's lips, and a spasmodic cough had cut his sentence short. It was rough treatment, but what could he do ? It had the desired effect. She opened her eyes, half-dazed as yet, and whispered, " Where ami?" " Where are you, my dear ? " said Gilbert pitifully. " Why, here, snugly blanketed in a reg'lar threepile, double-milled, thickwove, super fine London fog. And as safe as if you were with your mother, Miss. That you may take your oath on." She felt the truth of that last remark in tuitively, and said, with a faint smile — " Thank you, I know it. I can go home now." "Know it, do you, Miss ? Well, that's a good 'un ! No, / must be a good 'un or you wouldn't know it so slick.

Thank you, Miss. Now wTe're quits. But as to going home by yourself — no, thank you. What ! and crawl under another ' crawler ' — that sounds funny — before you get there ! Tell me where it is, and Jarvie shall drive you round." " Oh, it's only in the next street, thank you. The next turning to the right — No. 59. But I can find it myself. Thank you, very much, and good-night." She was willing and even anxious to carry out her purpose, but though the spirit was walling the flesh was weak — weak through more serious causes than her swoon — and had she not been steadied by the arm of Gilbert Craske she must have again fallen to the ground. " Well, here's a go ! " said Gilbert, taking no notice of her request to be left to herself. " And so you are close at home, and so far as getting there was concerned, you might as well have been at Adelaide, Melbourne, or Brisbane !

Hey, but that's the country, Miss. You never have to swim in greasy pea-soup or live in a smoky kitchen with an etarnal washin' goin' on. Drive gently, Jarvie. The next street to the right, No. 59." " Shan't do no such thing," mumbled Jarvis tipsily, mounting the box. " Gently indeed, with such a Flying Dutchman as this 'ere ! Now then, Rosy Nanty, show 'em your 'eels ! " But for all that they crawled gently enough, and after much pains and many mistakes Gilbert Craske and his feeble companion stood on the doorstep of No. 59. The door was opened by a comely lady, whose silver hair was bordered by a widow's cap. She held aloft a lighted lamp, so that its rays might the better pierce the gloom, and Gilbert Craske had a full clear view of a well-remembered face. His grey eyes fixed themselves upon her — his mouth was open in silent astonishment.

His hand was rapidly stroking his long brown beard. " Thank you with all my heart, dear sir," said the young woman, offering her hand. " Good night." He took the proffered hand, shook it mechani cally, keeping his eyes fixed upon the face be yond. The young woman's hand was somewhat suddenly withdrawn, and the door was closed. " Well, well, this is a go ! " said Gilbert Craske, bringing his big broad hand with a slap upon his thigh, and turning abruptly from the door, he was swallowed up, absorbed by the dense November fog.

Chapter II. The Land Of Shadow

" Who is that, Mercy ? and what has brought him here ? " inquired the silver-haired lady in the widow's cap, as soon as the door wras shut. "Who, or wThat he is, I don't know, mamma; but he has been a friend in need to me, although I don't suppose I should have needed one if it had not been for him. It sounds like a con tradiction that, doesn't it? But I'll tell how it wras." Straightway the young lady gave her mother a full, true, and particular account, so far as she understood it, of the event that had brought the middle-aged stranger to their door that night. They wrere still standing in the passage, for the widow seemed very anxious for an explanation. Then Mrs. Graythorpe heaved a sigh of relief, kissed her daughter fondly, and led the way through the foggy atmosphere to a higher floor.

" It was very kind of him," said she, as they ascended the stairs, " but he must be a great oddity to stand and stare like that, and make off with never a parting word. I wonder who he can be ! " They entered a small ill-furnished room on the first floor of the humble domicile in which they resided. It was dimly lighted by two candles placed on the mantelpiece, for these, even with the help of the lamp carried by Mrs. Graythorpe, and the low fire which burned in the grate, could not dissipate — could not so very greatly diminish the all-pervading fog. On a small couch, drawn near to the fire, was reclining a girl of nineteen or twenty years of age. One glance at her thin and pallid features told in language all too plain that she was an invalid, and accounted for the whispered explana tion having to take place in the lower passage.

" Well, Millie dear, how do you feel to-night ? " said the elder sister, bending dowrn to kiss the fair white brow. "Better, I think. Just a little. But never mind me, Mercy. Have some tea — you do look so tired ; and tell us what success you have had in town." " Oh, wrell," said Mercy, in a hopeful tone, wTell simulated, but lacking the genuine ring, " as I said yesterday, we can hardly expect to succeed all at once, you know. Plums don't drop into folk's mouths, Millie. We must be patient." Poor Mercy ! It w7as really a very little plum that she had been looking for. Only a little money to buy bread for herself and her mother, and a little of something daintier for the patient and feeble invalid, and to make sure that they could keep a roof over their heads, however humble it might be. But so far from having dropt within her sweet lips, Mercy had not even seen the plum hanging amid all the dry and leaf less branches on the grim forbidding tree of mighty London town.

" I have seen a good many dealers to-day," she continued, still keeping up her hopeful tone. "All of them declare that the drawings are good. ' Real art,' some of them say ; but the one weary, wTeary, monotonous answer of the whole of them, day in and day out, is, ' Times are bad — very bad ; and the market is overstocked ' " — and Mercy sought to stifle a sigh by swallowing it in company wTith a sip from the tea-cup which she held in her hand. Millie turned on her couch, heaved an in voluntary sigh, and said — "Dear Mercy, how tired you must be! and all to so little purpose. But what have you done with the pictures ? I watched to see whether you had brought them back, and when you entered the room without them I began to hope, poor little fool as I am, that somebody had taken them after all."

Millie covered her pale face with a pair of thin hands, in a vain effort to dismiss the tears that would start in spite of her. " Why, there, Millie, that is just where I really have a tiny bit of hope. The last place I called at was a little print-shop at the corner of Dorset Street, Strand. It didn't look to have much in it, or to offer me much encouragement. I could but ask, I thought ; and, at any rate, they would let me sit down a little bit and rest my tired feet. There was such a funny little man in the shop — a German or a Dutchman, I should fancy, his English was so odd. "'Veil, young Mees,' said he, almost before I got within the door, ' vat ting you vants to puy?' " I felt that if I was to say at once that I had come to try to sell and not to buy I should certainly secure for myself an abrupt dismissal.

I w^as so thoroughly tired and weary that my limbs trembled, and I could scarcely stagger to a chair. To gain the luxury of a few minutes' rest I asked the price of some crayons I had seen in the window, which would, I felt certain, serve you as hints for sketches of your own. I had a sort of inspiration given me, that as I had failed to sell, I might, perhaps, obtain a little cash by negotiating an exchange. " ' There are three little sketches in your window,' said I, ' drawn in crayon ; wTould you mind allowing me to examine them ? ' "'Ha!' said the little man, nodding a com pliment. ' De young Mees can judge goot. Dem little trawings are vat you call de gems. De people vat comes and goes are plind — plind as te little bat. Dey puys te rubbish and pays te big moneys, ha ! ha ! ha ! But de young Mees has a peautiful eye — nein, an eye for de peautiful.

Dere ! ' said he, placing the little sketches in my hands with a smiling countenance, ' dem is goot, an' v-e-r-y sheap.' " ' Yes,' said I, ' I saw at once they were the work of a true artist, but they must be very cheap if they are to be mine, for I have very little money to spare.' " ' Dey are goot and dey are sheap,' said the little shopman. ' You can has 'em for tree and sixpence.' " They were well worth the money, and if my purse had been but moderately supplied with cash, I should have bought them at once. While I was looking at them, my portfolio, with your drawings in it, fell to the ground, and displayed the picture of dear old Hilldrop Farm. " ' Allow me,' said the little man, stooping to pick them up. Then looking at the picture in unaffected surprise, he said, ' Mees ! dat is vare much peautiful.

It is what you call excellent. You puy dat someveres ? ' " ' No,' said I, ' those belong to a young artist friend of mine. She is an invalid, and I am going to dispose of them for her.' " I was dreadfully afraid that he would ask me where I was going to take them, for what could I have said, you know ? Much to my relief, he said — " ' Veil, veil. You leave them here one few little time. I can safe you much trouble, I think.' " This was frankly and even eagerly said, and there seemed such honesty about him that I paused a moment only to make my willing consent to be a little less apparent. " ' Yes, yes,' he said, ' and you sail take dem little crayons to de artist. She look at dem. I look at dese. You sail call again to-morrow, and we sail make de pargains, eh ? ' " And so I have left them, and shall call to - morrow, and until then we will live in hope and on it.

It wall be nothing new that, at any rate. It is not very nourishing, I know7," continued Mercy, with a light laugh, " but I do think something will come of it after all." Mrs. Graythorpe and Millie were amused by Mercy's life-like mimicry of the little picture dealer, and the latter permitted the sweet influence of hope to bring a little colour to her pale cheek, and to place a smile upon her lips — a guest that had been anything but familiar there for many a weary day. Thankful to God for even so slight a break in the heavy cloud that had long overshadowed them, Mrs. Gray thorpe also took a hopeful view of the little incident. Then reaching from the small side- B board an old and wTell-worn family Bible, she read a portion of the forty-second Psalm : — "'Why art thou cast down, 0 my soul? and why art thou disquieted in me ?

Hope thou in God, for I shall yet praise Him for the help of His countenance. 0 my God, my soul is cast down within me : therefore will I remember Thee from the land of Jordan, and of the Hermonites ; from the hill Mizar."' There was a tremor in her usually clear and pleasant voice, which showed how appropriate was the passage to their own peculiar circum stances, and which showed, too, her own trust and confidence in that true and ever-faithful Friend who had put the w7ords on record for all who are forlorn and weary, for all whose path way lies through the darker shadows and the denser mists of life." "Our 'Hill Mizar' was Hilldrop Farm," she said, " with all its nights of darkness and morn ings of deliverance. Our God is where He was, and on the strength of that memory of our Heavenly Father's faithfulness we will pray, and wait, and work, and trust."

Mercy, always quick to know what was wisest and best to do, silently sat down to the piano, almost the last relic of happier and more prosperous times, and sang in a voice and with an expression that were well calculated to make the lesson easier to learn, the following lines : — " God was better than our fearing, Evermore our passage clearing, His sure love and truth were boundless. Go, ye dark forebodings groundless, Will He His compassions rue 1 ' He hath helped us hitherto.' " Since the time His mercy sought us, Hitherto His love hath brought us, Hitherto His eye hath led us, Hitherto His hand hath fed us ; Nothing could our weakness do, 'He hath helped us hitherto.' " When we walked with none to guide us, When false friends their aid denied us, When the way was closed before us, When astonishment came o'er us, Though the dusk to darkness grew, ' He hath helped us hitherto.' " He who from the danger took us, He who never yet forsook us, He from danger still will take us ; Never will His love forsake us, Evermore we find Him true, ' He hath helped us hitherto.' " On His steadfast truth depending, Still the holy hill ascending, All our cares to Jesus bringing, We will travel on still singing, — Old the song, yet ever new, ' He hath helped us hitherto.1 "

Chapter III. How The Shadow Fell

Mrs. Graythorpe and her two daughters, of whom my readers have had a first glimpse through the November fog, had suffered that which is so sadly common in this changeful life of puzzling inequalities, a serious reverse of fortune, and this through no sins of omission or commission of their own. On the contrary, if it could have been averted by woman's wit, diligence, and fidelity, it may be safely said that the grievous fall from competence and comfort to poverty and privation would never have taken place. While yet the husband and father was alive they had dwelt at Hilldrop Grange, a large, old-fashioned homestead, which had formerly been the residence of the lord of the manor ; and though the ancient edifice had fallen from its pride of place, so far as that honour and title were concerned, it was still a spacious and some what imposing old pile, whose odd gables and quaint corners gave it a place in the shape both of woodcut and letterpress in the local history of the midland county in which it was situated.

In the days of which I write, "The Grange," as it was called, had a farm of some five or six hundred acres of excellent land, both pasture land and arable. The Grange itself, with its extensive farmstead, was built on the slope of a hill, and was fronted by a wide stretch of landscape, eminently striking in beauty. The range of buildings was bounded one side by a broad highway, which just at that point showed a deep descent towards the level, and this was constantly traversed by the coaches that kept up communication between the metropolis and the far-distant north. Local wisdom declared that in the olden time the old mansion was called Hildred Manor, and that it was the property of the nuns who used to reside at the abbey near by, whose ruins still survived to link the old times with the new.

It was further declared that Hildred had gradually been turned into Hilldrop — that the steep drop of the highway at that point was erroneously supposed by the ignorant to have originated its modern name. At the foot of the hill was a quaint old-fashioned hostel, wrhich used to be thronged on certain saint days by gentle and simple, who wrere making holy pilgrimage to the shrine of St. Hildred, where many miracles of healing were wrought, or said to be, and which was at one time exceedingly wealthy by reason of the numerous offerings of the worshippers, wrho believed that they should obtain in return wThat would be good for their body and soul. This ancient house of call was now known as "The Hilldrop Inn." Here the coach-horses were changed, and the passengers wTere wont to break their fast with breakfast, dinner, or tea, as the time-table might determine.

"Mine host," Jared Higginbotham by name, was held in well-deserved repute, both by the numerous travellers who statedly passed that wray, and also, which was undoubtedly the better certificate, by the good folks of Faringham, the parish and township in which both Grange and Inn were situated. Leonard Graythorpe, whose death his widow still mourned deeply and sincerely, was not a capable and competent farmer. He was neither thrifty in his habits nor diligent in business ; neither, according to the testimony of Jimmie Sladd, wmo had shepherded his flocks, was he at all "judgmatical" in the management of his land. The consequence was that Farmer Gray thorpe was always struggling with what he called " an adverse fate," but what his unheeded advisers called with far more exactness a " per verse mind."

There is no doubt, I think, that among the too numerous tribe of ne'er-do-weels, " fate " is very greatly libelled, and fortune gets a very bad name — when the faults, foibles, and folly of the libellers are the real causes of failure. There may be an excess of f's in that sentence, but there is, at any rate, a sad deficiency of effort and efficiency on the part of those whose weakness makes them "go to the wall," and whose bad luck is simply the result of bad management and lack of " grit." At length a succession of bad seasons com pleted the financial ruin of Leonard Graythorpe. He became low in purse, low in spirits, low in credit, and low in health — so low that his purse was empty, his spirits subsided into confirmed melancholia, his credit became as thin as his purse, and at length his health sank so low that he had to give up the struggle for life, and was laid to rest beneath the elm trees that bordered Faringham Churchyard.

The general verdict of the neighbourhood wTas " Poor Gray thorpe ! " — for he was held in a sort of kindly esteem — " he made a poor fight of it ; let us hope he will do better where he's gone ! " One is ready and eager to express that hope concerning all who pass into the silent " city of the dead ; " but in these pages, at any rate, wre wTill not forget to affirm that to do well in this life in the way that Heaven calls "well," is the way to ensure abiding prosperity and peace in the " land wdtich is afar off." When Leonard Graythorpe's affairs came to be finally arranged, Widow Graythorpe found that she was without resources, and, alas ! almost without friends, for adversity's keen winds are apt to blow away such as are called by that name, like falling autumn leaves. The widow and her daughters repaired to London with the double purpose of hiding their poverty in its vast unfathomable depths, and of ob taining amongst them some kind of employment that would provide them at least with bread and clothes and shelter, and keep, as far as possible, "the wolf," if not "from the door," at least from crossing the threshold and work ing his fatal wTill on those that dwelt within.