John Halifax, Gentleman | Page 3

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This etext was prepared by Les Bowler, St. Ives, Dorset.

JOHN HALIFAX, GENTLEMAN
by Dinah Maria Mulock (Mrs. Craik)
CHAPTER I
"Get out o' Mr. Fletcher's road, ye idle, lounging, little--"
"Vagabond," I think the woman (Sally Watkins, once my nurse), was
going to say, but she changed her mind.
My father and I both glanced round, surprised at her unusual reticence
of epithets: but when the lad addressed turned, fixed his eyes on each of
us for a moment, and made way for us, we ceased to wonder. Ragged,
muddy, and miserable as he was, the poor boy looked anything but a
"vagabond."
"Thee need not go into the wet, my lad. Keep close to the wall, and

there will be shelter enough both for us and thee," said my father, as he
pulled my little hand-carriage into the alley, under cover, from the
pelting rain. The lad, with a grateful look, put out a hand likewise, and
pushed me further in. A strong hand it was--roughened and browned
with labour--though he was scarcely as old as I. What would I not have
given to have been so stalwart and so tall!
Sally called from her house-door, "Wouldn't Master Phineas come in
and sit by the fire a bit?"--But it was always a trouble to me to move or
walk; and I liked staying at the mouth of the alley, watching the
autumnal shower come sweeping down the street: besides, I wanted to
look again at the stranger-lad.
He had scarcely stirred, but remained leaning against the wall-- either
through weariness, or in order to be out of our way. He took little or no
notice of us, but kept his eyes fixed on the pavement-- for we actually
boasted pavement in the High Street of our town of Norton
Bury--watching the eddying rain-drops, which, each as it fell, threw up
a little mist of spray. It was a serious, haggard face for a boy of only
fourteen or so. Let me call it up before me--I can, easily, even after
more than fifty years.
Brown eyes, deep-sunken, with strongly-marked brows, a nose like
most other Saxon noses, nothing particular; lips well-shaped, lying one
upon the other, firm and close; a square, sharply outlined, resolute chin,
of that type which gives character and determination to the whole
physiognomy, and without which in the fairest features, as in the best
dispositions, one is always conscious of a certain want.
As I have stated, in person the lad was tall and strongly-built; and I,
poor puny wretch! so reverenced physical strength. Everything in him
seemed to indicate that which I had not: his muscular limbs, his square,
broad shoulders, his healthy cheek, though it was sharp and thin--even
to his crisp curls of bright thick hair.
Thus he stood, principal figure in a picture which is even yet as clear to
me as yesterday--the narrow, dirty alley leading out of the High Street,
yet showing a glimmer of green field at the further end; the open

house-doors on either side, through which came the drowsy burr of
many a stocking-loom, the prattle of children paddling in the gutter,
and sailing thereon a fleet of potato parings. In front the High Street,
with the mayor's house opposite, porticoed and grand: and beyond, just
where the rain-clouds were breaking, rose up out of a nest of trees, the
square tower of our ancient abbey--Norton Bury's boast and pride. On it,
from a break in the clouds, came a sudden stream of light. The
stranger-lad lifted up his head to look at it.
"The rain will be over soon," I said, but doubted if he heard me. What
could he be thinking of so intently?--a poor working lad, whom few
would have given credit for thinking at all.
I do not suppose my father cast a second glance or thought on the boy,
whom, from a sense of common justice, he had made take shelter
beside us. In truth, worthy man, he had no lack of matter to occupy his
mind, being sole architect of a long up-hill but now thriving trade. I