Willis George Emerson - "The Smoky God"

Morris Rosenfeld - "Songs of Labor and Other Poems"

William H. Ryus - "The Second William Penn"

John Payne - "Tales from the Arabic Volumes 1 3"

The Town Traveller

G >> George Gissing >> The Town Traveller




Here was no puzzle for Gammon, who had approved Greenacre's scheme
for finally getting rid of Mr. Clover. But Polly's letter began with
an announcement which occasioned him the greatest surprise he had
known since the identification of Clover with Lord Polperro. So
completely did it engross and confuse his mind that not until some
quarter of an hour elapsed could he think about the passage quoted
above. "I write to inform you," began Miss Sparkes, without any
introductory phrase, "that I am going to be married to a gentleman
who has a high place at Swettenham's, the big tea merchants, and his
name is Mr. Parish. He has won the missing word, which is five
hundred and fifty pounds, and which, every penny of it, he will
spend on furniture at one of the best places. You shall have one of
our cards when we send them out, though I cannot say you have
behaved accordingly. The reason I do not invite you to the wedding
is because Mr. Parish's friends are very particular."

After reading these remarkable lines again and again Mr. Gammon was
much disposed to shout; but something restrained him. He felt,
perhaps, that shouting would be inadequate or even inappropriate.
When his first emotions subsided he went quietly forth from the
house (it was evening) and took a walk about the adjacent streets,
stopping at a stationer's to purchase note-paper. Returned to his
room he gently whistled an old-fashioned melody; his face passed
from grave thoughtfulness to a merry smile. Before going to bed he
meant to write a letter, but there was no hurry; two hours had to
pass before the midnight collection.

The letter was brief, lucid, sensible. He explained to Mrs. Clover
that the painfulness and difficulty of her situation since Lord
Polperro's death had impelled him to a strange, but harmless and
justifiable, expedient for putting her affairs in order. He made
known the nature of the artifice, which, "for several reasons," he
had tried in the first instance upon Polly Sparkes, with complete
success. If Mrs. Clover took his advice she would straightway go
into moderate mourning and let it be known that her husband was
dead. Reserve as to details would seem strange to no one; ordinary
acquaintances might be told that Mr. Clover had died abroad, friends
and relatives that he had died at sea. He hoped she would not be
offended by what he had done, as it relieved her from a wretched
burden of secrecy, and greatly improved the position of her
daughter, Miss Minnie. She need not reply to this letter unless she
liked, and he would make an opportunity of calling upon her before
very long.

A week passed without reply.

By discreet inquiry Gammon learnt that Mrs. Clover had assumed the
garb of widowhood, and this was quite enough.

"There," he said to himself, "there's an end of lies!" And he shook
his shoulders as if to get quite clear of the unpleasant
entanglement; for, Mr. Gammon, though ingenious at a pinch, had no
natural bent towards falsehood. To be rid at almost the same moment
of Mr. Clover and Polly Sparkes seemed to him marvellous good luck;
and in these bitter, sodden days of the early year he was lighter
hearted than for many months.

He had heard from Polly:

"DEAR MR. GAMMON,

"I don't think we are suited to each other, which is better for both
parties. I shall send you a wedding-card in a few days, and I'm sure
I wish you all happiness. And so I remain with my best respects,

"Yours truly
Miss SPARKES"

This time Mr. Gammon felt no restraint upon his mirth. He
threw his head back and roared joyously. That same day he went to a
jeweller's and purchased--for more than he could afford--a suitable
trinket, and sent it with a well-meaning note to Polly's address.

Winter brightened into spring, spring bloomed into summer. Gammon
had paid several visits to the china shop, where all was going very
well indeed. Minnie Clover now spent her evenings almost invariably
with the young man interested in ceramic art, but it never disturbed
Gammon to have ocular evidence of the fact. With Mrs. Clover he
conversed in the respectfully familiar tone of an old friend, now
and then reporting little matters which concerned his own welfare,
such as his growing conviction that at Quodlings' he had found a
"permanency," and his decision to go no more to Dulwich, to sell all
his bow-wows, to find another employment for leisure hours.

But he was not wholly at ease. Time after time he had purposed
making a confession to Mrs. Clover, time after time he "funked
it"--his own mental phrase--and put it off.

He grew discontented with his room at Mrs. Bubb's. In getting up
these bright mornings he looked with entirely new distaste upon the
prospect from his window at the back. Beneath lay parallel strips of
ground, divided from each other by low walls. These were called the
"gardens" of the houses in Kennington Road, but no blade of grass
ever showed upon the black, hard-trodden soil. Lank fowls ran about
among discarded furniture and indescribable rubbish, or children--
few as well-tended as Mrs. Bubb's--played and squabbled under the
dropping soot. Beyond rose a huge block of tenements, each story
entered from an external platform, the levels connected by flights
of iron steps; the lofty roof, used as a drying ground by the female
population, was surrounded with iron railings. Gammon had hitherto
seen nothing disagreeable in this outlook, nor had the shrieks and
curses which at night too frequently sounded from the huge building
ever troubled his repose. But he was growing fastidious. He thought
constantly of a clean little street not far from Battersea Park--of
a gleaming china shop--of a little parlour which seemed to him the
perfection of comfort and elegance.

Courage and opportunity came together. He sat alone with Mrs. Clover
one Sunday evening, and she told him that Minnie was to be married
in six months' time. Gammon bore the announcement very well indeed;
he seemed really glad to hear it. Then his countenance became
troubled, he dropped awkward sentences; with a burst of honest
feeling, which made him very red, he at length plunged into his
confession. Not a little astonished, Mrs. Clover learnt all that had
passed between him and Polly Sparkes, now Polly Parish. Nothing did
he extenuate, but he wronged neither Polly nor himself.

"There, I've got it out. You had to know. Thank goodness it's over!"

"Why did you tell me?" asked Mrs. Clover, a flush on her comely
face, which could not yet smile, though she asked the question with
a suggestion of slyness.

"It seemed only right--to make things square--don't you see. I shall
know next time I come how you've taken it. And perhaps the next time
after that--"

Mrs. Clover was now smiling, and so gently, so modestly, that Gammon
forgot all about his scheme for a gradual approach. He began to talk
excitedly, and talked for such a long time that his hostess, who
wished him to disappear before Minnie's return, had at length to
drive him away.

"I shall certainly keep on the shop," were her last words before the
door opened. "I've got used to it, and--it'll keep me out of
mischief."

Her merry little laugh echoed in Gammon's ears all the way home, and
for hours after. And when, as he rose next morning, he looked out on
to the strips of back-yard and the towering tenements, they had lost
all their ugliness.

"By jorrocks!" he ejaculated, after gashing his chin with the razor,
"I'll send Polly a handsome present next Christmas."

Copyright (c) 2007. topbookz.net. All rights reserved.