Democratic Sentinel, Volume 5, Number 51, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 20 January 1882 — THE VICTIM OF A VIRTUE. [ARTICLE]

THE VICTIM OF A VIRTUE.

BY JAMES PAYN.

I am one of those person ;, envied for three months in the year ...id pitied for nine, who “ live a little way ” out of London. In the summer, our residence is a charming one; the garden especially is delightful and attracts troops of London friends. They are not only always willing to dine with us, but drop in of their own motion and stay for the last train to town. The vague observation “any fine day,” or the more evasive phrase “some fine day.” used in complimentary invitations, are then very dangerous for us to employ, for we are taken at our word, just as though we meant it. This would be very gratifying, however expensive, if it only happened all the year round. But from October to June nobody comes near us. In reply to our modest invitations we then receive such expressions of tender regret as would convince the most skeptical ; “ a previous engagement, ” ‘ ‘ indisposition of our youngest born,” “the horses ill,” some catastrophe or other, always prevents our friends fro' enjoying another evening with us “ like that charming one they spent last July.” They hope, however, to be given the same happy chance again, “when the weather is a little less inclement,” by which they mean next summer. As for coming to dine with us in winter, they will see us further first—by which they mean nearer first. Sometimes at their own boards we hear this stated, though of course without any intentional application. Some guests will observe to us, apropos of dinners, “It is most extra ordinary how people who live half n dozen miles out of town will attempt to ignore the seasons and expect us to go and dine with them, just as if it was August, through four feet of snow. It does really seem—as Jones, our excellent host, was saying the other day— the very height of personal conceit. ” As we have occupied our present residence for some years, we have long had the conceit taken out of us ; but we have still our feelings. Our social toes are not absolutely frost-bitten, and when thus trodden upon, we are aware of the circumstance. It grieves us to know what Jones has thought (and said) of us, and my wife drops a quiet tear or two during our drive home in the brougham. I am bound to confess it is rather a long ride. I find myself dropping asleep before w'c have left brick and mortar behind us, and as we cross the great common near our home I feel a considerable change in the temperature. It is a beautiful, breezy spot, with a lovely view in summer time ; the playground of the butterfly and the place of the bee; but in the -winter it is cold enough. In the day-time there is nobody there at all. In the evening, at uncertain intervals, there is the patrol. In the old times it used to be a favorite haunt of the Knights oi the Road; during whose epoch, by-the-by, I should fancy that those who lived in the locality found it even more difficult to collect their friends around them than now. It has still a bad name for tramps and vagabonds, which makes my wife a little nervous when the days begin to ‘ ‘ draw in ” and our visitors to draw off. She insists upon my going over the house before retiring to rest every night and making a report of “All’s well.” Being myself not much over five feet high in my boots, and considerably less in my slippers (in which I am wont to make these peregrinations), it has often suggested itself to my mind that it would be more judicious to leave the burglars to do their worst, as regards the plate and things, and not risk what is (to me) much more valuable. Of course I could “ hold the lives of half a dozen men in my hand ” —a quotation from my favorite author —by merely arming myself with a loaded revolver; but the simple fact is, I am so unskilled in the use of any weapon (unless the umbrella can be called such) that I should be just as likely to begin with shooting number one (that is myself) as number two, the “first ruffian.” “Neverwillingly, my dear,” says I to Julia “ will I shed the life-blood of any human being, and least of all my own.” On the other hand, as I believe in the force of imagination, I always carry, on these expeditions, in the pocket of my dressing gown, a child’s pistol—belonging to our infant, Edward John—which looks like a real one, and would, lam persuaded, have all the effect of a real one in my hands without the effect of personal peril. “ Miserable ruffians,” 1 had made up my mind to say when coming upon the gang, “your lives are in my power,” (here I exhibit the pistol’s butt), “ but out of perhaps a mistaken clemency I will only shoot one of you, the one that is the last to leave my house. I shall count six,” (or sixteen, according to the number of the gang), “ and then fire.” Upon which they would, I calculated, all skedaddle helterpelter to the door they got in at, which I should lock and double-lock after them. You may ask, “why double-lock?” but you will get no satisfactory reply. I know no more what to “ double-lock ” means than you do. but my favorite novelist—a sensational one—always uses it, and I conclude he ought to know. ~ It was the beginning of a misty October, when the leaves had fallen off early, and our friends had followed their example, and I had been sitting up alone into the small hours resolute to hear my favorite author to the bitter end—his third volume; wherein all the chief characters (except the comic ones) are slain, save one who is left sound in wind and limb, but with an hereditary disposition to commit suicide. Somewhat depressed by its perusal and exceedingly sleepy, I went about my usual task of seeing all was right in a somewhat careless and perfunotory manner.

All was right apparently in the dining room, all right in the drawing room, all right certainly in the study (where I had myself been sitting) and all right—no, not quite all right m our little black hall or vestibule, where, upon the round table the very largest and thickest pair of navvy’s boots I ever saw were standing between my wife’s neat little umbrella and a pair of her gardening gloves. Even in that awful moment I remember the sense of contrast and incongruity struck me almost as forcibly as the presence of the boots themselves, and they astonished me as much as the sight of the famous footprints did Robinson Crusoe, and for precisely the same reason. The boot and the print were nothing in themselves, but my intelligence, now fully awakened, at once flew to the conclusion that somebody must have been there to leave them, and was probably in the neighborhood, and, indeed, under my roof at that very moment. If you give Prof. Owen a foot of any creature (just as of less scientific persons we say : Give them an inch, they will take an ell), he will build up the whole animal out of his own mind; and something of the Professor’s marvelous instinct was on this occasion mine. I pictured to myself (and as it turned out, correctly) a monster more than six feet high, broad in the shoulders, heavy in the jowl, with legs like stone balustrades, and hands, but too often clenched, of the size of pumpkins. The vestibule led into the pantry, where, no doubt, this giant, with his one idea, or half a one, would conclude the chief part of our plate to be, whereas it was lying--unless he had already taken it—a terrible thought that flashed through my mind, followed by a cluster of others, like a comet with its tail—under our bed.

Of course I could have gone into the pantry at once, but I felt averse to be precipitate ; perhaps (upon finding nothing to steal) this poor wretch would feel remorse for what he had done and fro away. It would be a wicked thing to deprive him of the opportunity of repentance. Moreover, it struck me that he might not be a thief after all, but only a cousin (considerably “ removed ”) of one of the maid-servants. It would have been very wrong of her to have let him into the house at such an hour, but it was just possible that she had done so, and that he was at that moment supping in the kitchen upon certain cold grouse which I knew were in the larder. Such a state of things, I repeat, would have been reprehensible, but I most sincerely hoped that it had occurred. A clandestine attachment, however misplaced, is better than burglary with possible violence. Coughing rather loudly, to give the gentleman notice that I was about, and to suggest that he had better take himself off in my temporary absence, I went up to the attic to make inquiries. And here I am tempted to a digression concerning the excessive somnolency of female domestics. As regards our own, at least, they reminded me, except in number, of the Seven Sleepers. I knocked at their door about a quarter of an hour before attracting their attention, and it took me another quarter to convince them (through the keyhole) that it was not fire. If it had been, they must all have been burnt in their beds. Relieved upon this point, they were scarcely less excited and “put out ”by the communication I was compelled to make to them, though conveyed with the utmost delicacy and refinement of which language is capable. I asked them whether by any accident one of them chanced to have a male relative who wore exceptionally thick highlows ; and if he was likely to have called recently—that very evening, for example. They all replied in indignant chorus that they had never heard of such a thing—by which they meant the suggestion ; and that no cousin of theirs ever did wear highlows, being all females without exception.

Satisfied as to this (and greatly disappointed), I felt that it was now incumbent upon me to pursue my researches. Candle in hand and pistol in pocket, I therefore explored the pantry. To my great relief, it was empty. Was it possible that the thief had departed ? If so, he had gone without his highlows, for they stood on the vestibule table as large as life, and, from the necessity of the case, a size or two larger. Their build and bulk, indeed, impressed me more than ever. Was it possible that one burglar had come in those boots ? I entered the kitchen ; not a mouse was stirring ; on the other hand, there was a legion of black beetles, which scuttled away in all directions except one. They avoided the dresser—beneath which lay the gentleman I was looking for, curled up in a space much too small for him, but affecting to be asleep. Indeed, though previously I had not heard him breathe, no sooner did the light from my candle fall upon him than he began to snore stertorously. I felt at once that this was to give me the idea of the slumber that follows honest toil. I knew before he spoke that he was going to tell me how, tired and exhausted, he had taken shelter under my roof, with no other object (however suspicious might be the circumstances of his position) than a night’s rest, of which he stood in urgent need. “ Don’t shoot, sir,” he said, for I took care to let the handle of Edward John’s pistol protrude from my dressing-gown. “I am poor, but honest; I only came in here for the warmth and to have a snooze. ” “How did you get in?” I inquired, sternly. “ I just prized up the washus winder,” was his plaintive reply, “ and laid down ’ere.” “ Then, you put out your boots in the back hall to be cleaned in the morning, I suppose ?” At this he grinned a dreadful grin. It seemed to say, “As you have the whip hand of me, you may be as humorous as you please ; but if it was not for that pistol, my fine friend, you would be laughing on the other' side of your mouth, I reckon.” “ Come, march,” said I. “ Put on your boots.” He got up as a wild beast rises from his lair, and slouched before me into the halt Though he looked exceedingly wicked, I felt grateful to him for going so peaceably, and was moved to compassion. “ Were you really in want that you came here?” I said. “Are you hungry ?” “Not now,” he answered with a leer. Of course he was intimating that he had supped at my expense, and at the time I thought it frank of him to acknowledge it. If I had known then, as I learned afterward, that he had eaten a grouse and a half, and the whole contents of a large jar of Devonshire cream which we had just received as a present, I should have thought it mere impudence. I did think it rather imf indent when he said, as he stood at the ront door which I had opened for his exit: “Won’t you give me half a crown, sir, to put me in an honest way of business?” But, nevertheless, thinking it better to part good friends, I gave him what he asked for. He spit upon the coin “ for luck,” as he was good enough to explain, and also perhaps as a substitute for thanks, since he omitted to give me any, and slouched down the gravel sweep and out of the gate. It was 3 o’clock; the mist had begun to clear, and the moon and stars were shining. A sort of holy calm began to pervade me. I felt that I had done a good action and also got rid of a very dangerous individual, and that it was high time that I should go to bed in peace with all men. My wife, however, who had been roused by the servants, was on the tiptoe of expectation to hear all that had taken place, and of course X •*' i * ■ » t

had to tell her. I described each thrilling incident with such dramatic force that she averred that nothing would ever induce her in my absence to sleep in the house again. This was perhaps but the just punishment for a trifle of exaggeration in the narrative with which I had here and there indulged myself, but it was very unfortunate. Now and then I find myself detained in town, after dining at the club, by circumstances over which I have no control (such as a rubber at whist, which will sometimes stretch like india-rubber), and hitherto I had only had to telegraph in the afternoon to express my regret that there was a possibility of my non return. Here was an end 'to all this, unless I could reassure her. I therefore began to dwell upon the unlikelihood of a second burglar ever visiting the house, which I compared with that famous hole made by a cannon ball, said to be a place of security from cannon balls for evermore. “Oh, don’t tell me,” cried my wife, with just a trace of impatient irritation in her voice. “ Hark I goodness gracious, what is that coming along the road ?” She thought it was a burglar on horseback, whereas, if I may so express it, it was the very contrary—namely, tne horse patrol. “Knock at the window; call him in. I insist upon your seeing him,” she exclaimed. I had no alternative, since she said “insist ” (as any married man will understand), but to accede to her wishes; so I went out and told Ihe patrol what had happened. “How long ago was the fellow here, sir ?” he inquired. “ More than an hour. It is quite out of the question you can overtake him. And besides, rreally think he is repentant, and means for the future to lead an honest life.” “ You do, do you ?” eaid the patrol, in that sort of compassionate tone of voice in which the visitor of a lunatic asylum addresses an inmate warranted harmless. “ Well, as I am here, I’ll just go over the house and make sure there is no more of them. It is not impossible, you see, he may have left a pal behind him.” if “ There was only one pair of boots.” said I confidently; “of that lam certain.” Nevertheless, as I felt it would be a satisfaction to my wife, I acceded to his request. He tied his horse to the scraper, and came in with his lantern, and looked about him. There was nobody in the front hall, of course, for I had just come through it; in the drawing-room nobody, in the vestibule nobody—but on the table where they had stood before stood a pair of gigantic navvy’s boots. “ What d’ye think of that ?” whispered the patrol, pointing to one of them. “They’re the same,” I answered in hushed amazement,. “ they’re the very same. I could swear to them among a thousand. What can it mean ? ” “ Well, it means that the gentleman who was going to lead a new life,” he answered dryly, “has thought better of it and has come back again.” And so he had. We found him lying in the very same place under the dresser, awaiting, I suppose, events. “O Lor ! is that you, Mr. Policeman?” he said, complainingly. “ Then, it’s all up.” If he had had to deal with me alone, he expected, perhaps, to have got another half-ciown out of me. But the great probability was, he had doubtless argued that all suspicion of burglars, for that night at least, would have died out, and that he would have had the undisputed range of the house. It was a bold game, but one in which all the chances seemed to be on bis side. I helped to fasten a strong strap to his wrist, which was already attached to that of the horse patrol’s. “ And now,” said the latter coolly, ‘‘ we will go and put on our boots.” For the second time that night I saw that operation accomplished by my burglar, for the second time saw him walk off, though on this occasion a captive to his mounted companion. I did not wish, as the Judges say when they put on the black cap, to add poignancy to the feelings of the unhappy man (he was on ticket-of-leave, and presently got five years’ penal servitude), but I could not help saying ; “ I think you ought to have been content with your’supper and half-a-crown, and not come here again, at all events in search of plunder. ” This argument, it seemed, had no sort of weight with him ; gratitude was unknown to that savage breast. Like many more civilized individuals, he attributed his misfortunes to his own virtue. “No, sir, it ain’t that,” he answered scornfully. “I’m the wictim of perseverance.”