The Professor Page 6

  CHAPTER V.

  THERE is a climax to everything, to every state of feeling as well as toevery position in life. I turned this truism over in my mind as, in thefrosty dawn of a January morning, I hurried down the steep and nowicy street which descended from Mrs. King's to the Close. The factoryworkpeople had preceded me by nearly an hour, and the mill was alllighted up and in full operation when I reached it. I repaired to mypost in the counting-house as usual; the fire there, but just lit, asyet only smoked; Steighton had not yet arrived. I shut the door and satdown at the desk; my hands, recently washed in half-frozen water, werestill numb; I could not write till they had regained vitality, so Iwent on thinking, and still the theme of my thoughts was the "climax."Self-dissatisfaction troubled exceedingly the current of my meditations.

  "Come, William Crimsworth," said my conscience, or whatever it is thatwithin ourselves takes ourselves to task--"come, get a clear notion ofwhat you would have, or what you would not have. You talk of a climax;pray has your endurance reached its climax? It is not four months old.What a fine resolute fellow you imagined yourself to be when you toldTynedale you would tread in your father's steps, and a pretty treadingyou are likely to make of it! How well you like X----! Just at thismoment how redolent of pleasant associations are its streets, its shops,its warehouses, its factories! How the prospect of this day cheersyou! Letter-copying till noon, solitary dinner at your lodgings,letter-copying till evening, solitude; for you neither find pleasurein Brown's, nor Smith's, nor Nicholl's, nor Eccle's company; and asto Hunsden, you fancied there was pleasure to be derived from hissociety--he! he! how did you like the taste you had of him last night?was it sweet? Yet he is a talented, an original-minded man, and evenhe does not like you; your self-respect defies you to like him; he hasalways seen you to disadvantage; he always will see you to disadvantage;your positions are unequal, and were they on the same level yourminds could not assimilate; never hope, then, to gather the honey offriendship out of that thorn-guarded plant. Hello, Crimsworth! where areyour thoughts tending? You leave the recollection of Hunsden as a beewould a rock, as a bird a desert; and your aspirations spread eagerwings towards a land of visions where, now in advancing daylight--inX---- daylight--you dare to dream of congeniality, repose, union. Thosethree you will never meet in this world; they are angels. The souls ofjust men made perfect may encounter them in heaven, but your soul willnever be made perfect. Eight o'clock strikes! your hands are thawed, getto work!"

  "Work? why should I work?" said I sullenly: "I cannot please though Itoil like a slave." "Work, work!" reiterated the inward voice. "I maywork, it will do no good," I growled; but nevertheless I drew out apacket of letters and commenced my task--task thankless and bitter asthat of the Israelite crawling over the sun-baked fields of Egypt insearch of straw and stubble wherewith to accomplish his tale of bricks.

  About ten o'clock I heard Mr. Crimsworth's gig turn into the yard, andin a minute or two he entered the counting-house. It was his custom toglance his eye at Steighton and myself, to hang up his mackintosh, standa minute with his back to the fire, and then walk out. Today he didnot deviate from his usual habits; the only difference was that whenhe looked at me, his brow, instead of being merely hard, was surly; hiseye, instead of being cold, was fierce. He studied me a minute or twolonger than usual, but went out in silence.

  Twelve o'clock arrived; the bell rang for a suspension of labour; theworkpeople went off to their dinners; Steighton, too, departed, desiringme to lock the counting-house door, and take the key with me. Iwas tying up a bundle of papers, and putting them in their place,preparatory to closing my desk, when Crimsworth reappeared at the door,and entering closed it behind him.

  "You'll stay here a minute," said he, in a deep, brutal voice, while hisnostrils distended and his eye shot a spark of sinister fire.

  Alone with Edward I remembered our relationship, and remembering thatforgot the difference of position I put away deference and carefulforms of speech; I answered with simple brevity.

  "It is time to go home," I said, turning the key in my desk.

  "You'll stay here!" he reiterated. "And take your hand off that key!leave it in the lock!"

  "Why?" asked I. "What cause is there for changing my usual plans?"

  "Do as I order," was the answer, "and no questions! You are my servant,obey me! What have you been about--?" He was going on in the samebreath, when an abrupt pause announced that rage had for the moment gotthe better of articulation.

  "You may look, if you wish to know," I replied. "There is the open desk,there are the papers."

  "Confound your insolence! What have you been about?"

  "Your work, and have done it well."

  "Hypocrite and twaddler! Smooth-faced, snivelling greasehorn!" (Thislast term is, I believe, purely ----shire, and alludes to the horn ofblack, rancid whale-oil, usually to be seen suspended to cart-wheels,and employed for greasing the same.)

  "Come, Edward Crimsworth, enough of this. It is time you and I wound upaccounts. I have now given your service three months' trial, and I findit the most nauseous slavery under the sun. Seek another clerk. I stayno longer."

  "What! do you dare to give me notice? Stop at least for your wages." Hetook down the heavy gig whip hanging beside his mackintosh.

  I permitted myself to laugh with a degree of scorn I took no pains totemper or hide. His fury boiled up, and when he had sworn half-a-dozenvulgar, impious oaths, without, however, venturing to lift the whip, hecontinued:

  "I've found you out and know you thoroughly, you mean, whininglickspittle! What have you been saying all over X---- about me? answerme that!"

  "You? I have neither inclination nor temptation to talk about you."

  "You lie! It is your practice to talk about me; it is your constanthabit to make public complaint of the treatment you receive at my hands.You have gone and told it far and near that I give you low wages andknock you about like a dog. I wish you were a dog! I'd set-to thisminute, and never stir from the spot till I'd cut every strip of fleshfrom your bones with this whip."

  He flourished his tool. The end of the lash just touched my forehead.A warm excited thrill ran through my veins, my blood seemed to give abound, and then raced fast and hot along its channels. I got up nimbly,came round to where he stood, and faced him.

  "Down with your whip!" said I, "and explain this instant what you mean."

  "Sirrah! to whom are you speaking?"

  "To you. There is no one else present, I think. You say I have beencalumniating you--complaining of your low wages and bad treatment. Giveyour grounds for these assertions."

  Crimsworth had no dignity, and when I sternly demanded an explanation,he gave one in a loud, scolding voice.

  "Grounds! you shall have them; and turn to the light that I may see yourbrazen face blush black, when you hear yourself proved to be a liar anda hypocrite. At a public meeting in the Town-hall yesterday, I had thepleasure of hearing myself insulted by the speaker opposed to me in thequestion under discussion, by allusions to my private affairs; by cantabout monsters without natural affection, family despots, and suchtrash; and when I rose to answer, I was met by a shout from the filthymob, where the mention of your name enabled me at once to detect thequarter in which this base attack had originated. When I looked round, Isaw that treacherous villain, Hunsden acting as fugleman. I detected youin close conversation with Hunsden at my house a month ago, and I knowthat you were at Hunsden's rooms last night. Deny it if you dare."

  "Oh, I shall not deny it! And if Hunsden hounded on the people to hissyou, he did quite right. You deserve popular execration for a worseman, a harder master, a more brutal brother than you are has seldomexisted."

  "Sirrah! sirrah!" reiterated Crimsworth; and to complete his apostrophe,he cracked the whip straight over my head.

  A minute sufficed to wrest it from him, break it in two pieces, andthrow it under the grate. He made a headlong rush at me, which I evaded,and said--

  "Touch me, and I'll have you up be
fore the nearest magistrate."

  Men like Crimsworth, if firmly and calmly resisted, always abatesomething of their exorbitant insolence; he had no mind to be broughtbefore a magistrate, and I suppose he saw I meant what I said. Afteran odd and long stare at me, at once bull-like and amazed, he seemedto bethink himself that, after all, his money gave him sufficientsuperiority over a beggar like me, and that he had in his hands a surerand more dignified mode of revenge than the somewhat hazardous one ofpersonal chastisement.

  "Take your hat," said he. "Take what belongs to you, and go out atthat door; get away to your parish, you pauper: beg, steal, starve, gettransported, do what you like; but at your peril venture again intomy sight! If ever I hear of your setting foot on an inch of groundbelonging to me, I'll hire a man to cane you."

  "It is not likely you'll have the chance; once off your premises, whattemptation can I have to return to them? I leave a prison, I leave atyrant; I leave what is worse than the worst that can lie before me, sono fear of my coming back."

  "Go, or I'll make you!" exclaimed Crimsworth.

  I walked deliberately to my desk, took out such of its contents as weremy own property, put them in my pocket, locked the desk, and placed thekey on the top.

  "What are you abstracting from that desk?" demanded the millowner."Leave all behind in its place, or I'll send for a policeman to searchyou."

  "Look sharp about it, then," said I, and I took down my hat, drew on mygloves, and walked leisurely out of the counting-house--walked out of itto enter it no more.

  I recollect that when the mill-bell rang the dinner hour, before Mr.Crimsworth entered, and the scene above related took place, I had hadrather a sharp appetite, and had been waiting somewhat impatiently tohear the signal of feeding time. I forgot it now, however; the imagesof potatoes and roast mutton were effaced from my mind by the stir andtumult which the transaction of the last half-hour had there excited. Ionly thought of walking, that the action of my muscles might harmonizewith the action of my nerves; and walk I did, fast and far. How couldI do otherwise? A load was lifted off my heart; I felt light andliberated. I had got away from Bigben Close without a breach ofresolution without injury to my self-respect. I had not forcedcircumstances; circumstances had freed me. Life was again open to me;no longer was its horizon limited by the high black wall surroundingCrimsworth's mill. Two hours had elapsed before my sensations had so farsubsided as to leave me calm enough to remark for what wider and clearerboundaries I had exchanged that sooty girdle. When I did look up, lo!straight before me lay Grovetown, a village of villas about five milesout of X----. The short winter day, as I perceived from the far-declinedsun, was already approaching its close; a chill frost-mist was risingfrom the river on which X---- stands, and along whose banks the road Ihad taken lay; it dimmed the earth, but did not obscure the clear icyblue of the January sky. There was a great stillness near and far; thetime of the day favoured tranquillity, as the people were all employedwithin-doors, the hour of evening release from the factories not beingyet arrived; a sound of full-flowing water alone pervaded the air, forthe river was deep and abundant, swelled by the melting of a late snow.I stood awhile, leaning over a wall; and looking down at the current:I watched the rapid rush of its waves. I desired memory to take a clearand permanent impression of the scene, and treasure it for future years.Grovetown church clock struck four; looking up, I beheld the last ofthat day's sun, glinting red through the leafless boughs of somevery old oak trees surrounding the church--its light coloured andcharacterized the picture as I wished. I paused yet a moment, till thesweet, slow sound of the bell had quite died out of the air; then ear,eye and feeling satisfied, I quitted the wall and once more turned myface towards X----.