When things in this world reach their lowest ebb, it is generally understood or expected that the tide will turn, somehow, and rise. Not unfrequently the understanding and the expectation are disappointed. Still, there are sufficiently3 numerous instances of the fulfilment of both, to warrant the hope which is usually entertained by men and women whose tide has reached its lowest.
Mr Hazlit was naturally of a sanguine4 temperament5. He entertained, we had almost said, majestic6 views on many points. Esteeming7 himself “a beggar” on three hundred a year—the remains8 of the wreck9 of his vast fortune—he resolved to commence business again. Being a man of strict probity10 and punctuality in all business matters, and being much respected and sympathised with by his numerous business friends, he experienced little difficulty in doing so. Success attended his efforts; the tide began to rise.
Seated in a miniature parlour, before a snug11 fire, in his cottage by the sea, with one of the prettiest girls in all England by his side, knitting him a pair of inimitable socks, the “beggar” opened his mouth slowly and spake.
“Aileen,” said he, “I’ve been a fool!”
Had Mr Hazlit said so to some of his cynical12 male friends they might have tacitly admitted the fact, and softened13 the admission with a smile. As it was, his auditor14 replied:—
“No, papa, you have not.”
“Yes, my love, I have. But I do not intend to prove the point or dispute it. There is a tide in the affairs of men which, taken at the ebb, leads on to fortune.”
Aileen suspended her knitting and looked at her sire with some surprise, for, being a very matter-of-fact unpoetical man, this misquotation almost alarmed her.
“‘Taken at the flood,’ is it not, papa?”
“It may be so in Shakespeare’s experience. I say the ebb. When first I was reduced to beggary—”
“You never were that, papa. We have never yet had to beg.”
“Of course, of course,” said Mr Hazlit, with a motion of his hand to forbid further interruption. “When I say ‘beggary,’ you know what I mean. I certainly do not mean that I carry a wallet and a staff, and wear ragged15 garments, and knock at backdoors. Well, when I was reduced to beggary, I had reached the lowest ebb. At that time I was led—mark me, I was led—to ‘take the tide.’ I took it, and have been rising with the flood to fortune ever since. And yet, strange to say, though I am now rich in a way I never before dreamed of, I have still an insane thirst for earthly gold. What was the passage, dear, that you quoted to me as being your text for the day?”
“‘Owe no man anything,’” replied Aileen.
“Yes, it is curious. I have never mentioned the subject to you, my child, but some months ago—when, as I have said, the tide was very low—I was led to consider that passage, and under the influence of it I went to my creditors16 and delivered up to them your box of jewels. You are aware, no doubt, that having passed through the insolvency17 court, and given up all that I possessed18, I became legally free. This box was recovered from the deep, and restored to me after my effects had been given up to my creditors, so that I might have retained it. But I felt that this would have been unjust. I respect the law which, after a man has given up all he possesses, sets him free to begin life again with some degree of hope, but I cannot avoid coming to the conclusion that moral duties cannot be abrogated19 by human laws. I take advantage of the law to prevent inhuman20 creditors from grinding me to death, but I refuse to take advantage of the law so as to escape from the clear duty that I ought to pay these creditors—gradually and according to my ability—to the uttermost farthing. Having been led to act on this opinion, I gave up the box of jewels. To my surprise, my creditors refused to take them. They returned them to me as a gift. I accepted the gift as a trust. On the proceeds, as you see, we manage to live comfortably, and I am now conducting a fairly successful business in the old line—on a small scale.”
Mr Hazlit smiled sadly as he uttered the last words.
“And the debts, papa, which you told me once were so heavy, do you mean to pay them all?” asked Aileen, anxiously.
“I do,” replied her father, earnestly; “by slow degrees it may be, but to the last farthing if I live. I shall try to owe no man anything.”
A glad smile lit up Aileen’s face as she was on the point of throwing her arms round her father’s neck, when the door opened, and a small domestic—their only one besides the cook—put a letter into the hands of her young mistress.
Aileen’s countenance21 assumed a troubled look a she handed it to her father.
“It is for you, papa.”
Mr Hazlit’s visage also assumed an expression of anxiety as he opened and read the letter. It ran thus:—
“Deer Sur,—i thinks it unkomon ’ard that a man shood ’ave is beed sold under im wen anuther man oas im munny, speshally wen is wifes ill—praps a-dyin—the Law has washt yoo sur, but it do seam ’ard on me, if yoo cood spair ony a pownd or two id taik it kind.—Yoors to komand, John Timms.”
“This is very much to the point,” said Mr Hazlit, with a faint smile, handing the letter to Aileen. “It is, as you see, from our old green-grocer, who must indeed be in great trouble when he, who used to be so particularly civil, could write in that strain to me. Now, Aileen, I want your opinion on a certain point. In consequence of your economical ways, my love, I find myself in a position to give fifty pounds this half-year towards the liquidation22 of my debts.”
The merchant paused, smiled, and absolutely looked a little confused. The idea of commencing to liquidate23 many thousands of pounds by means of fifty was so inexpressibly ridiculous, that he half expected to hear his own respectful child laugh at him. But Aileen did not laugh. With her large earnest eyes she looked at him, and the unuttered language of her pursed, grave, little mouth was “Well, go on.”
“The liquidation of my debts,” repeated Mr Hazlit, firmly. “The sum is indeed a small one—a paltry24 one—compared with the amount of these debts, but the passage which we have been considering appears to me to leave no option, save to begin at once, even on the smallest possible scale. Now, my love, duty requires that I should at once begin to liquidate. Observe, the law of the land requires nothing. It has set me free, but the law of God requires that I should pay, at once, as I am able. Conscience echoes the law, and says, ‘pay.’ What, therefore, am I to do?”
Mr Hazlit propounded26 this question with such an abrupt27 gaze as well as tone of interrogation, that the little pursed mouth relaxed into a little smile as it said, “I suppose you must divide the sum proportionally among your creditors, or something of that sort.”
“Just so,” said Mr Hazlit, nodding approval. “Now,” he continued, with much gravity, “if I were to make the necessary calculation—which, I may remark, would be a question in proportion running into what I may be allowed to style infinitesimal fractions—I would probably find out that the proportion payable28 to one would be a shilling, to another half a sovereign, to another a pound or so, while to many would accrue29 so small a fraction of a farthing that no suitable coin of this realm could be found wherewith to pay it. If I were to go with, say two shillings, and offer them to my good friend Granby as part payment of my debt to him, the probability is that he would laugh in my face and invite me to dinner in order that we might celebrate the event over a bottle of very old port. Don’t you think so?”
Aileen laughed, and said that she did think so.
“Well, then,” continued her father, “what, in these circumstances, says common sense?”
Aileen’s mouth became grave again, and her eyes very earnest as she said quickly—
“Pay off the green-grocer!”
Mr Hazlit nodded approval. “You are right. Mr Timms’ account amounts to twenty pounds. To offer twenty pounds to Mr Granby—to whom I owe some eight thousand, more or less—would be a poor practical joke. To give it to Mr Timms will evidently be the saving of his business at a time when it appears to have reached a crisis. Put on your bonnet30 and shawl, dear, and we will go about this matter without delay.”
Aileen was one of those girls who possessed the rare and delectable31 capacity to “throw on” her bonnet and shawl. One glance in the mirror sufficed to convince her that these articles, although thrown on, had fallen into their appropriate places neatly32. It could scarcely have been otherwise. Her bonnet and shawl took kindly33 to her, like all other things in nature—animate and otherwise. She reappeared before her sedate34 father had quite finished drawing on his gloves.
Mr John Timms dwelt in a back lane which wriggled35 out of a back street as if it were anxious to find something still further back into which to back itself. He had been in better circumstances and in a better part of the town when Mr Hazlit had employed him. At the time of the rich merchant’s failure, the house of Timms had been in a shaky condition. That failure was the removal of its last prop25; it fell, and Timms retired36, as we have seen, into the commercial background. Here, however, he did not find relief. Being a trustful man he was cheated until he became untrustful. His wife became ill owing to bad air and low diet. His six children became unavoidably neglected and riotous37, and his business, started on the wreck of the old one, again came to the brink38 of failure. It was in these circumstances that he sat down, under the impulse of a fit of desperation, and penned the celebrated39 letter to his old customer.
When Mr Hazlit and his daughter had, with great difficulty, discovered Mr Timms’ residence and approached the door, they were checked on the threshold by the sound of men apparently40 in a state of violent altercation41 within.
“Git out wid ye, an’ look sharp, you spalpeen,” cried one of the voices.
“Oh, pray don’t—don’t fight!” cried a weak female voice.
“No, I won’t git out till I’m paid, or carry your bed away with me,” cried a man’s voice, fiercely.
“You won’t, eh! Arrah then—hup!”
The last sound, which is not describable, was immediately followed by the sudden appearance of a man, who flew down the passage as if from a projectile43, and went headlong into the kennel44. He was followed closely by Rooney Machowl, who dealt the man as he rose a sounding slap on the right cheek, which would certainly have tumbled him over again had it not been followed by an equally sounding slap on the left cheek, which “brought him up all standing2.”
Catching45 sight at that moment of Mr Hazlit and Aileen, Rooney stopped short and stood confused.
“Murder!” shrieked46 the injured man.
“Hooray! Here’s a lark47!” screamed a small street-boy.
“Go it! Plice! A skrimmage!” yelled another street-boy in an ecstasy48 of delight, which immediately drew to the spot the nucleus49 of a crowd.
Mr Hazlit was a man of promptitude. He was also a large man, as we have elsewhere said, and by no means devoid50 of courage. Dropping his daughter’s arm he suddenly seized the ill-used and noisy man by the neck, and thrust him almost as violently back into the green-grocer’s house as Rooney had kicked him out of it. He then said, “Go in,” to the amazed Rooney, and dragging his no less astonished child in along with him, shut and locked the door.
“Now,” said Mr Hazlit, sitting down on a broken chair in a very shabby little room, and wiping his heated brow, “what is the meaning of all this, Mr Timms?”
“Well, sir,” answered Timms, with a deprecatory air, “I’m sorry, sir, it should ’ave ’appened just w’en you was a-goin’ to favour me with the unexpected honour of a wisit; but the truth is, sir, I couldn’t ’elp it. This ’ere sc— man is my landlord, sir, an’ ’e wouldn’t wait another day for ’is rent, sir, though I told ’im he was pretty sure o’ ’avin it in a week or so, w’en I ’ad time to c’lect my outstandin’ little bills—”
“More nor that, sur,” burst in the impatient and indignant Rooney, “he would ’ave gone into that there room, sur,—if I may miscall a dark closet by that name—an’ ’ave pulled the bed out from under Mrs Timms, who’s a-dyin’, sur, if I ’adn’t chanced to come in, sur, an’ kick the spalpeen into the street, as you see’d.”
“For w’ich you’ll smart yet,” growled51 the landlord, who stood in a dishevelled heap like a bad boy in a corner.
“How much rent does he owe you?” asked Mr Hazlit of the landlord.
“That’s no business o’ yours,” replied the man, sulkily.
“If I were to offer to pay it, perhaps you’d allow that it was my business.”
“So I will w’en you offers.”
“Well, then, I offer now,” said Mr Hazlit, taking out his purse, and pouring a little stream of sovereigns into his hand. “Have you the receipt made out?”
The landlord made no reply, but, with a look of wonder at his interrogator52, drew a small piece of dirty paper from his pocket and held it out. Mr Hazlit examined it carefully from beginning to end.
“Is this right, Mr Timms?” he asked.
The green-grocer examined the paper, and said it was—that five pounds was the exact amount.
“You can put the receipt in your pocket,” said Mr Hazlit, turning round and counting out five sovereigns on the table, which he pushed towards the landlord. “Now, take yourself off, as quietly as you can, else I’ll have you taken up and tried for entering a man’s premises53 forcibly, and endeavouring to obtain money by intimidation54. Go!”
This was a bold stroke on the part of the merchant, whose legal knowledge was not extensive, but it succeeded. The landlord pocketed the money and moved towards the door. Rooney Machowl followed him.
“Rooney!” said Mr Hazlit, calling him back.
“Mayn’t I show him out, sur?” said Rooney, earnestly.
“By no means.”
“Ah, sur, mayn’t I give him a farewell kick?”
“Certainly not.”
Mr Hazlit then expressed a desire to see Mrs Timms, and the green-grocer, thanking the merchant fervently55 for his timely aid, lighted a candle and led the way into the dark closet.
Poor Mrs Timms, a delicate-looking woman, not yet forty, who had evidently been pretty once, lay on a miserable56 bed, apparently at the point of death.
Aileen glided57 quickly to the bed, sat down on it, and took the woman’s hand, while she bent58 over her and whispered:—
“Don’t be distressed59. The rent is paid. He will disturb you no more. You shall be quiet now, and I will come to see you sometimes, if you’ll let me.”
The woman gazed at the girl with surprise, then, as she felt the gentle warm pressure of her hand a sudden rush of faith seemed to fill her soul. She drew Aileen towards her, and looked earnestly into her face.
“Come here, Timms,” said Mr Hazlit, abruptly60, as he turned round and walked out of the closet, “I want to speak to you. I am no doctor, but depend upon it your wife will not die. There is a very small building—quite a hut I may say—near my house—ahem! Near my cottage close to the sea, which is at present to let. I advise you strongly to take that hut and start a green-grocery there. I’m not aware that there is one in the immediate42 neighbourhood, and there are many respectable families about whose custom you might doubtless count on; at all events, you would be sure of ours to begin with. The sea-air would do your wife a world of good, and the sea-beach would be an agreeable and extensive playground for your children.”
The green-grocer stood almost aghast! The energy with which Mr Hazlit poured out his words, and, as it seemed to Timms, the free and easy magnificence of his ideas were overpowering.
“W’y, sir, I ain’t got no money to do sitch a thing with,” he said at last, with a broad grin.
“Yes, you have,” said Mr Hazlit, again pulling out his purse and emptying its golden contents on the table in a little heap, from which he counted fifteen sovereigns. “My debt to you amounts, I believe, to twenty pounds; five I have just paid to your landlord, here is the balance. You needn’t mind a receipt. Send me the discharged account at your leisure, and think over what I have suggested. Aileen, my dear, we will go now.”
Aileen said good-night at once to the sick woman and followed her father as he went out, repeating—“Good-evening, Timms, think over my suggestion.”
They walked slowly home without speaking. Soon they reached the cottage by the sea. As they stood under the trellis-work porch the merchant turned round and gazed at the sun, which was just dipping into the horizon, flooding sea and sky with golden glory.
“Aileen,” he said in a low voice, “I have commenced life at last—life in earnest. I was a poor fool once. Through grace I am a rich man now.”
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1
ebb
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| vi.衰退，减退；n.处于低潮，处于衰退状态 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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3
sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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sanguine
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| adj.充满希望的，乐观的，血红色的 | |
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temperament
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| n.气质，性格，性情 | |
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6
majestic
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| adj.雄伟的，壮丽的，庄严的，威严的，崇高的 | |
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7
esteeming
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| v.尊敬( esteem的现在分词 )；敬重；认为；以为 | |
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8
remains
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| n.剩余物，残留物；遗体，遗迹 | |
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wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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probity
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| n.刚直；廉洁，正直 | |
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snug
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| adj.温暖舒适的，合身的，安全的；v.使整洁干净，舒适地依靠，紧贴；n.（英）酒吧里的私房 | |
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12
cynical
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| adj.(对人性或动机)怀疑的，不信世道向善的 | |
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13
softened
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| （使）变软( soften的过去式和过去分词 )； 缓解打击； 缓和； 安慰 | |
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auditor
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| n.审计员，旁听着 | |
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ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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creditors
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| n.债权人，债主( creditor的名词复数 ) | |
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insolvency
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| n.无力偿付，破产 | |
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possessed
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| adj.疯狂的；拥有的，占有的 | |
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19
abrogated
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| 废除（法律等）( abrogate的过去式和过去分词 )； 取消； 去掉； 抛开 | |
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inhuman
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| adj.残忍的，不人道的，无人性的 | |
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countenance
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| n.脸色，面容；面部表情；vt.支持，赞同 | |
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liquidation
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| n.清算，停止营业 | |
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liquidate
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| v.偿付，清算，扫除；整理，破产 | |
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paltry
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| adj.无价值的，微不足道的 | |
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prop
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| vt.支撑；n.支柱，支撑物；支持者，靠山 | |
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propounded
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| v.提出（问题、计划等）供考虑[讨论]，提议( propound的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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abrupt
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| adj.突然的，意外的；唐突的，鲁莽的 | |
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payable
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| adj.可付的，应付的，有利益的 | |
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accrue
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| v.(利息等)增大，增多 | |
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bonnet
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| n.无边女帽；童帽 | |
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delectable
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| adj.使人愉快的；美味的 | |
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neatly
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| adv.整洁地，干净地，灵巧地，熟练地 | |
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kindly
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| adj.和蔼的，温和的，爽快的；adv.温和地，亲切地 | |
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sedate
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| adj.沉着的，镇静的，安静的 | |
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wriggled
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| v.扭动，蠕动，蜿蜒行进( wriggle的过去式和过去分词 )；（使身体某一部位）扭动；耍滑不做，逃避（应做的事等） | |
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retired
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| adj.隐退的，退休的，退役的 | |
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riotous
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| adj.骚乱的；狂欢的 | |
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brink
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| n.(悬崖、河流等的)边缘，边沿 | |
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celebrated
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| adj.有名的，声誉卓著的 | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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altercation
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| n.争吵，争论 | |
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42
immediate
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| adj.立即的；直接的，最接近的；紧靠的 | |
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43
projectile
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| n.投射物，发射体；adj.向前开进的；推进的；抛掷的 | |
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44
kennel
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| n.狗舍，狗窝 | |
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45
catching
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| adj.易传染的，有魅力的，迷人的，接住 | |
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46
shrieked
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| v.尖叫( shriek的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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47
lark
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| n.云雀，百灵鸟；n.嬉戏，玩笑；vi.嬉戏 | |
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48
ecstasy
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| n.狂喜，心醉神怡，入迷 | |
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nucleus
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| n.核，核心，原子核 | |
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50
devoid
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| adj.全无的，缺乏的 | |
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51
growled
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| v.（动物）发狺狺声， （雷）作隆隆声( growl的过去式和过去分词 )；低声咆哮着说 | |
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52
interrogator
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| n.讯问者；审问者；质问者；询问器 | |
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53
premises
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| n.建筑物，房屋 | |
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54
intimidation
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| n.恐吓，威胁 | |
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55
fervently
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| adv.热烈地，热情地，强烈地 | |
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56
miserable
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| adj.悲惨的，痛苦的；可怜的，糟糕的 | |
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57
glided
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| v.滑动( glide的过去式和过去分词 )；掠过；（鸟或飞机 ） 滑翔 | |
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58
bent
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| n.爱好，癖好；adj.弯的；决心的，一心的 | |
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59
distressed
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| 痛苦的 | |
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60
abruptly
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| adv.突然地，出其不意地 | |
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