Mattie:-A Stray Volume II Part 7

And Mattie, feeling her voice deserting her, hurried away. She went at once to Mr. Hinchford's room. Mr. Hinchford was becoming fidgety about his breakfast, and walking up and down discontentedly.

"They'll tell me I'm late again," he was muttering, when Mattie, _sans ceremonie_, made her appearance.

"Mr. Hinchford, will you let Miss Harriet have that letter at once?

She's waiting for it."

"And I'm waiting for my breakfast, Mattie--it's really too bad!"

"I'll tell Ann; and--and the letter?"

"You're an odd girl; I'll get it you."

He went into the next room, returning with a letter in his hand.

"There!"

Mattie dashed at it in her impatience, and tore it into twenty pieces, which she thrust into the pocket of her dress, lest a fragment of the news should remain as evidence of Harriet Wesden's want of judgment.

"I say, my girl, that's not your letter, it's----"

"It's better torn to pieces. Harriet wished it, sir."

"She--she hasn't had a quarrel with my boy?"

"No, sir, to be sure not."

"I wonder how much longer he will be; there's--there's nothing further to break to an old man by degrees, Mattie?"

"Nothing further. I have a little news to tell you about myself, that I hope you'll be sorry to hear."

Mr. Hinchford's face a.s.sumed that perplexed look to which it had become p.r.o.ne of late years. Still he was not likely to be very much troubled--it was only about Mattie!

"I am going away from here," Mattie explained in a hurried manner; "Mr.

Wesden will tell you the whole story, and it's not to my credit, looking at it in his light. You'll believe it, perhaps?" she added wistfully.

"Mr. Wesden is not accustomed to exaggeration, Mattie; but I will not believe anything that is wrong of you."

"I hope you will not, however proof may seem to go against me," was the sad remark; "he thinks I'm wrong, and I dare not explain part, and cannot explain the rest, and so I'm going away this morning.

"This morning!"

Mr. Hinchford took a good haul of his stock at this.

"He don't wish me to stop, and I would not if he did," said Mattie, proudly, "so we are both of one mind about my going. And now, sir,"

holding out both hands to him, "try and think the best of me--never mind the desk this morning, that was nothing, remember--_do_ think well of one who will never forget you, and all the kindness you have shown me since I have been here."

"Mattie, let me go down, and see if I can't set all this straight," said the old gentleman, moved by Mattie's appeal.

"It could not be done, sir," said Mattie in reply; "you're very kind, but I know how much better it is to go. Why, sir, I have a great hope that they'll think better of me when I am gone!"

"But--but----"

"And so good-bye, sir."

The old gentleman shook both her hands, stooped suddenly and kissed her on the forehead.

"I can't make it all out, but I'll believe the best, Mattie."

"Thank you--thank you."

The tears were blinding her, so she hastened to the door, pausing there to add--

"Tell Mr. Sidney--oh! tell him above all--to think of me, as I would think of him, whatever the world said and whoever was against him.

Harriet will speak up for me when he has a doubt of my honesty, and he will believe her. Don't let my past life stand between you all and your better thoughts of me--good-bye."

Mattie was gone; she had closed the door behind her, and shut in Mr.

Hinchford, who forgot his breakfast for awhile in the sudden news that had been communicated. He was forgetful at times now; his memory, though he did not care to own it, would betray him when he least expected it.

In the midst of his reverie, a flash of a new recollection took away his breath, and brought his hand again to his inflexible stock.

"Good heaven!--not that letter, I hope."

He bustled into the back room, and searched nervously in the pockets of coats, waistcoats, and trousers about there. A blank expression settled on his countenance as he drew from the side-pocket of the great coat he had worn yesternight, another letter--the letter which Mattie had demanded, and he thought that he had given her.

"G.o.d bless me! she's torn up the letter that was given me to post last night!"

He made a dash down-stairs, but Mattie had gone, and the double mistake could not be rectified.

Mattie had made her final leave-taking by that time. She had gone straight from Mr. Hinchford's apartments into the shop, taking up her position on the street-side of the counter facing Mr. Wesden.

"I'm--I'm ready to go now, sir!"

"Very well. I--I didn't mean you to go in such a hurry; but as you have looked upon it in that light, why I can't stop you. There's your salary up to the month."

He took it from the little back-shelf and laid it on the counter; Mattie hesitated for a moment; her face crimsoned, and there was an impulsive movement to sweep the money to the floor, checked by a second and better thought.

"Thank you, sir."

The money was dropped into her pocket; she looking steadily at Mr.

Wesden meanwhile.

"I shall send for my box when I've found a home," she said. "Let the man take it without being watched; some of you might like to know what has become of me, and I don't wish that yet awhile."

"Where do you think of going?"

"Anywhere I can be trusted," was the unintentional retort. "I am not particular, and I have a hope that G.o.d will send a friend to me. I think of going from here to Camberwell to bid one friend good-bye, at least--what do you think, sir?"

"You had better not. She's ill."