Chapter III: In Liverpool

NEXT day, Janet sent for a broker, and pointed out to him such articles of furniture as Fred had told her belonged to him. She was in the midst of making her bargain when, to her surprise, in came Mrs. Rayburn, who had not left her room for many days.

"Betty told me, my dear, that Mr. Pitman was here; so I guessed it was about your piano, and I crept in, for I may as well dispose of my few things at the same time."

And, turning to Mr. Pitman, she proceeded to point out what she claimed. It was not very much, but it was nearly all that Janet had been speaking about, and the poor girl reddened when she found Pitman looking doubtfully at her. She said—

"I did not know, grandma, that these things were yours. We thought they were ours."

"Oh, my dear, the things my kind husband bought for me? But say no more; I know you have always had them as your own, and it was stupid of me to—"

"No, no; I only spoke lest Mr. Pitman might think I had known it before."

The business was soon settled, and a van carried off all the Rayburns' share of the furniture. Very bare the parlour looked, and Fred cried for his "pitty cot," when laid to sleep in his mother's bed. Frank, old enough to be frightened at his mother's sad face, made no plaint about anything, but ran with messages and helped her with all his might.

Their few belongings were soon packed, and all, save one box, sent off to Liverpool by goods train. Janet paid up her household bills for the last week, and then everything was done. She had no one to say farewell to save Mrs. Rayburn; her own father and mother had died since her marriage, and her only brother had emigrated. Janet had always been a home-keeping woman, and had no very intimate friends.

"What shall you do, grandma?" she asked. "Where will you live till you hear of a place?"

"I shall stay here, dear, until I'm turned out; then my sister-in-law will take me in for a few days."

"You'll write and tell me what you hear from Lord Beaucourt, won't you? Indeed I hope he will be kind to you. I have been so hurried that I hardly seem to feel things yet; but indeed I am very, very sorry for you. It is so hard on you."

"It is indeed. But Lord Beaucourt is one who never forgets them who have served him well, and my mother was his confidential housekeeper—no common servant; more like a friend, you know—for many years, and his lordship was always most kind to me. Of course, I shall write, and you must write to me. How I shall miss you, dear, and my darling boys! There's some one at the door, Janet."

"Come in," Janet called out wearily.

And in came Mr. Frank Hopper.

"Good evening, Mrs. Rayburn," he said, as she rose to meet him. The elder woman was sitting in the shadow of the window curtain, and he did not see her.

"This is a sad business, Mrs. Rayburn. I am sorry to hear that Rayburn has gone away. It struck me that you might be in difficulties, and that I had better see you."

"Of course we are in difficulties, Mr. Frank."

"Yes—but I want—I meant—in a word, Mrs. Rayburn, do you know where your husband has gone, and—are you to join him?"

"Why, certainly I am," Janet said angrily. "Oh, Mr. Frank, how could you think that Fred would desert me and the children?"

"It looked so bad, his going off in this way. I was afraid there might be—debts, you know. I wished, if possible, to help you."

"No, Mr. Hopper, you cannot help me. I have money to keep us until we go out to Fred; I could not take help from you. I think you have been very hard on my husband. I am an ignorant woman, and perhaps ought not to say this; but it seems to me that you have been very, very hard on him."

"You mean in dismissing him? But he knew the rules, and knew that we never depart from them. But I don't want to talk of that. Where's my little namesake? I have a present here for him."

"Not for him; we will not accept help from you under any names, Mr. Frank."

"Well, I would help you if I could," the young man said quietly; "but I understand and respect your feelings. Business men have to be guided by rules that seem harsh to women, I am sure. Only remember, if you ever feel that there is anything I can do, you have my address. It will give me real pleasure to help you, Mrs. Rayburn."

He bowed and withdrew, and old Mrs. Rayburn gave young Mrs. Rayburn a lecture for being so proud and so foolish.

"I cannot help it," Janet said. "Did you remark how it was all that he wished to help me; not a word of kindness for Fred, who has worked under him so long? No, I will not put up with that sort of kindness."

Janet had never left Hemsborough except to go to school in a small town not ten miles off, so the journey to Liverpool was quite a formidable undertaking for her. But she had plenty of commonsense, and managed very well. She and her boys reached the Ship Hotel in safety. And now there was nothing to do but to wait.

Waiting is always weary work, and poor Janet was anxious about her husband and uneasy about her boys. Accustomed to play about the big brewery yards and sheds, where every one knew them and took more or less care of them, the boys fretted if she kept them in her room in the hotel; and yet the street and the adjoining quays did not seem a safe playground for them. The hotel was very small, very crowded and noisy, and by no means cheap. However, Janet lived as cheaply as she could; and at last a letter came.

Fred wrote from New York, not, as she had hoped, from Halifax, for she had wished him to go there to be nearer to her brother. He had as yet failed to get permanent employment. He could just live, and that was all. People told him that he was not likely to get good employment in New York. Yet what could he do? He had not funds now to go to her brother in British Columbia, and he feared it would be some time before he could save enough. She must husband her money, and stay in England for a while, for if she came to him now, what he feared was, that they would sink into the class that just lives from hand to mouth, and that the boys would get no education. She was to write to him at once, for he longed to hear of her and the boys. Frank and Fred must not forget him.

Janet thought long and deeply over this letter, and the immediate result of her meditations was that she wrote to Mr. Frank Hopper. Poor Janet! She felt very reluctant to do it.

"Ship Hotel, Guelph Street, Liverpool.

"DEAR SIR,

"You were kind enough to say that you would help me if you could. Will you give me a few lines which I may show to any one here to whom I may apply for work? I am quite unknown here, and my husband and I have decided that it is better for me not to join him just yet. I think he will most likely go after a time to my brother in British Columbia, and there is no use in my going out till I can go there direct. I am a very good dressmaker, and wish to find work in order to help my husband.

"Your obedient servant,

"JANET RAYBURN."

Mr. Hopper at once sent her a letter which answered her purpose. She was fortunate enough to get employment in the cutting-out department of a great shop in Bold Street, where she gave such satisfaction that she was told that she should be the head of the department when the lady now over it married, which she was about to do soon. She was free at about seven o'clock, and might be free rather earlier in winter.

She sent the boys to a little preparatory school in the street in which she now lodged, Frank to learn, and Fred to be safe; and the servant at the lodgings undertook to give them their dinner when they came home, and on fine days to let them play in what she (perhaps satirically) called the garden, and generally to keep a watch upon them. Then she was able to write to Fred to say that she had got employment which, with the few pounds she kept, would support her and the boys for a time; and she sent him all the rest of the money she still had, urging him to go to her brother Gilbert, and "not to be longer about sending for her than he could help, for she felt very sad without him."

Poor Janet! She would not have admitted to any one, even to herself, that she in the least distrusted her husband. Yet, in doing this, she was unconsciously influenced by a touch of distrust. She felt that if she kept money enough to take her and the boys out, maybe Fred would go on just keeping himself; he had never taken kindly to steady, dull work, and this kind of life might have some strange attraction for him. Whereas, if he knew that she was working hard, and that he must send her the passage-money, he would certainly feel quite differently. As for herself and the children, she had no fears. God would take care of them.

But God's ways are not our ways; and Janet's simple faith was to be sorely tried. And it stood the trial, because it was simple and humble. When things happened that she did not expect, Janet did not forthwith conclude that God had forgotten His promises; she concluded that she had not fully understood them.

The summer was now past, and the winter was a severe one. Liverpool is a very cold place, too, and Janet felt it herself, though she did not actually suffer in health. But the children caught cold again and again. They would creep back to their rather dreary home when school was over, with their little overcoats unbuttoned, and their warm comforters forgotten. After a time, Janet succeeded in teaching Frank that it was his duty to take care of Fred, and of himself too, because it made poor "muddie" so wretched to see them ill. From that time, Frank remembered; and it was touching to see the tender, protecting care he took of little Fred, who really suffered far less from cold than did Frank himself. Frank grew tall and thin and white, but he never complained, for "poor muddie would be sorry, if she knew how his bones pained him."

Looking back upon that time in Liverpool, it always seemed to Janet very long, yet it really lasted but a few months. She heard regularly from her husband, and he wrote in good spirits. He had set out to join Gilbert Gray, but, having reached a town called New Durham, in British Columbia, he fell in with an acquaintance who was in business there, and who had put him up to one or two very good things; he would soon be quite independent. In sending him that money she had, he thought, laid the foundation of a fine fortune; but he would send her the passage-money very soon now.

All this made Janet uneasy, she knew not why. She felt a little uneasy, too, about grandma, as Mrs. Rayburn had for years been called in the old Gatehouse, for she had never heard from her since they parted, though she had written to her. However, in the spring she had a letter from her.

"Kelmersdale Castle, near Rugeley.

"MY DEAR JANET,

"I am afraid you are thinking me very unkind, getting letters from you and never writing to you; but you will understand how this happened, when I tell you how I have been knocked about. I am glad you have found work that suits you, but, in your place, I would have gone after Fred at once. I love him like a mother, but, after what happened, I think him weak, and I hardly expect now that you will ever get out to him. You ought to have left the children in England and gone after Fred. No risk in leaving them for a time; any one would be kind to those darlings. But I suppose it is too late now, as you parted with the money.

"As for me, a letter from my lord came the day after you went away, offering me my choice of two situations, matron of a big orphanage near Stafford, or housekeeper at Kelmersdale Castle. The matronship was the best pay, so I took it. But, my health being so feeble, I found the work too much, and after my little darlings, Frank and Fred, the children seemed a dreadful lot, and after a few weeks, I wrote to my lord to say my health would not stand it, and that if the other place was still open, I would prefer it. I am thankful to say my lord had not been able to suit himself, so I came to the Castle, and I just wish I had the dear boys here, with such places to play about, and every comfort.

"The place is very old, and was once besieged. I am learning all the history off by heart, for many a shilling can be got by showing visitors over the Castle in summer. My lord never lives here long, but comes on business or for the shooting. The living rooms are small, with thick walls and little windows high up. My rooms are very comfortable, and I have servants under me, and am to see all kept in order; the armour, and old pictures and furniture. But, except just when the earl is here, I have little to do but to amuse myself like any grand lady. The salary is small, or I should send you a present, as well I might after all your kindness to me, which I can never forget. I hope the darling boys have not forgotten grandma. I seem to hear Frank calling me, dear little rogue. Some day you must all come and pay me a visit; I know my lord will give leave.

"You say the boys go to school, but in the summer holidays they might be glad of a change. But take my advice and get after Fred as soon as you can; don't lose your hold over him, it will be the ruin of him.

"Ever your affectionate mother,

"LYDIA RAYBURN."

"Oh, I wish people would not say things like this to me!" cried Janet, unconscious that no one had said anything to her about her husband except Mrs. Rayburn and her own anxious, loving heart.

Mrs. Lydia Rayburn little thought when she penned that letter, so full of patronizing kindness, what the effect of her words would be; for simpleminded Janet believed that she meant every word most sincerely.

She sent the letter on to Fred, and said to the two children, "How fond grandma is of you both, boys!"

To which Frank replied thoughtfully, "Is she, muddie?"

Soon after this Fred failed to write for some weeks, and Janet was getting seriously uneasy, when she received a letter from her brother; not one of his usual brief epistles, but a long, closely written letter with a money order enclosed.

"Old Man's Ferry Farm, Gattigo, British Columbia.

"MY DEAR SISTER,

"I do not know whether what I must now tell you will be a surprise and a shock to you or not. Of course, I could see that you were not speaking out quite frankly about your husband and the loss of his good place; not that I am blaming you, for he is your husband, and you are bound to stick to him. You wrote me word that he was on his way to me, and I laid out my plans for giving him and you a start here if I could. But he did not turn up, and only ten days ago I got a letter from a lawyer in New Durham—a rising new town a good way from us—enclosing a letter from Rayburn.

"Not to make too long a story of it, your husband told me that he had been on his way to me, five months ago, when at New Durham, he fell in with an old friend, and went into some kind of business with him, putting all the money he possessed into it. They seemed prosperous for a time, and Rayburn declares that he did not know that the articles they were selling were regular cheap locks and stoves and such things, with good English names on them, which this fellow Turner had got made out here, and not even of good materials. Of course, this could only go on for a time—people here are no fools—and Turner must have found out that he was suspected, for he made off with all he could get hold of, and left Rayburn to bear the consequences. Rayburn had a narrow escape of being roughly handled by a lot of fellows who had come to the town together to have it out with Turner. In these half-settled places people have a very short kind of justice, but he got away out of the shop with a whole skin, and was taken up for the cheating. Then he told the lawyer that he was my brother-in-law, and that I could speak for him, and so they sent for me. I went, of course, and found him very ill, I really think from fretting, for there is no doubt that he was badly treated by Turner.

"They have not caught Turner, and now they will hardly do so; and I think Rayburn will get off for want of evidence against him. I would get him out on bail, but that he is so ill, that it is better for him to keep quiet. When he is free, I shall take him home with me, and Aimée will nurse him till he is all right again. And, if I find it possible, I may still do what I was thinking of—start an hotel in Gattigo to be supplied from my farm, and you and Rayburn to manage it. If he had come direct to me, all would be easy. Now I fear it may be a feeling against him, and in that case it would be risking money in setting up the hotel, and it is a great pity, for he is the very man for the place; he has such a pleasant manner. But there is no use in crying over spilt milk. I wish he was not your husband, for, truth to say, I do not like this business, though I cannot help liking him. And I will do what I can for your husband.

"Now, Janet, the fact is, if you have as much good sense and good principle as I believe you to have, you ought to come out by the next boat, and join Rayburn, and not part with him again. In some way we will find an opening for him, and with you beside him, and me at your back—particularly now you are on your guard—he may yet do very well. He is feather-headed, easily taken with anything new, and impatient of slow gains. Rayburn says you are to send the boys to their grandmother, who is sure to take good care of them, being very fond of them. He desired me to say that on no account are you to bring them with you, if Mrs. Rayburn will take them for a while, as he is very anxious that they should never hear of his being in prison here. I think myself that it would be better for you to come alone, and we will get them out as soon as we know what you and Rayburn will do; but there may be no use in your settling here, and it will be better to get them to the place you finally decide upon, direct.

"I enclose money for your journey, and, on the other side of this sheet, I will put down your exact best way, and all particulars I can think of. Do not lose a boat, and come direct to Gattigo. Rayburn will probably be here before you. The hotel plan, if still possible, would be the best for him and for you; but, unless you are here, I will not risk it. Besides, having you with him will make him seem more dependable and respectable, and, you see, he has made a bad start, and has a prejudice to get over. Do not think me unkind, though I know I may seem so, because I am not used to much letter-writing, and do not know how to wrap things up.

"My wife is just longing for you to come; there is not a woman she
cares about within many miles of us.

"Your affectionate brother,

"GILBERT GRAY."

Then followed the directions for her journey, which were so clear and minute that a child could have followed them.

A year ago the idea of such a long lonely journey would have reduced Janet to tears and misery; but she had learned to know her strength, and it was not her own part in the matter that frightened her. Nor was it the leaving the boys at Kelmersdale, for she had no doubt of their well-being there, and had been thinking of asking grandma to take them for a fortnight or so, as Frank would be the better for a change of air. She had a brave heart and a childlike faith, and thought but little of herself; but oh, what bitter tears she shed over that letter! But she lost no time; in half an hour after the letter came, she was in the office of the line of boats Gilbert had named, inquiring when the next left Liverpool.