Nearly Lost but Dearly Won | Page 2

Mr Rothwell was a tall and rather portly man with a pleasant
countenance, a little flushed, indicating a somewhat free indulgence in
what is certainly miscalled "good living." The cast of his features was
that of a person easy-going, good-tempered, and happy; but a line or
two of care here and there, and an occasional wrinkling up of the
forehead showed that the surface was not to be trusted. Mark, his son,
was like him, and the very picture of good humour and light-
heartedness; so buoyant, indeed, that at times he seemed indebted to
spirits something more than "animal." But the brightness had not yet
had any of the gilding rubbed off--everyone liked him, no one could be
dull where he was. Mrs Franklin, how sweet and lovable her gentle face!
You could tell that, whatever she might have lost, she had gained
grace--a glow from the Better Land gave her a heavenly cheerfulness.
And Mary--she had all her mother's sweetness without the shadow from
past sorrows, and her laugh was as bright and joyous as the sunlit ripple
on a lake in summer time.
The Rothwells and Franklins, as old friends, exchanged a hearty but
whispered greeting.
"I daren't speak out loud," said Mark to Mary, "for fear of raising the
dust, for that'll set me sneezing, and then good-bye to one another; for
the first sneeze 'll raise such a cloud that we shall never see each other
till we get out of doors again."
"O Mark, don't be foolish! You'll make me laugh, and we shall offend
poor Mr Tankardew; but it is very odd. I never was here before, but
mamma wished me to come with her, as a sort of protection, for she's
half afraid of the old gentleman."

"Your first visit to our landlord, I think?" said Mr Rothwell.
"Yes," replied Mrs Franklin. "I sent my last half-year's rent by Thomas,
but as there are some little alterations I want doing at the house, and Mr
Tankardew, I'm told, will never listen to anything on this subject
second-hand, I have come myself and brought Mary with me."
"Just exactly my own case," said Mr Rothwell; "and Mark has given
me his company, just for the sake of the walk. I think you have never
met our landlord?"
"No, never!--and I must confess that I feel considerably relieved that
our interview will be less private than I had anticipated."
Further conversation was interrupted by the entrance of Mr Tankardew
himself. He was tall and very grey, with strongly-marked features, and
deeply-furrowed cheeks and forehead. His eyes were piercing and
restless, but there was a strange gentleness of expression about the
mouth, which might lead one, when viewing his countenance as a
whole, to gather that he was one who, though often deceived, must still
trust and love. He had on slippers and worsted stockings, but neither of
them were pairs. He wore an old black handkerchief with the tie
half-way towards the back of his neck, while a very long and
discoloured dressing-gown happily shrouded from view a considerable
portion of his lower raiment.
The room in which he met his tenants was thoroughly in keeping with
its owner: old and dignified, panelled in dark wood, with a
curiously-carved chimneypiece, and a ceiling apparently adorned with
some historical or allegorical painting, if you could only have seen it.
How Mr Tankardew got into the room on the present occasion was by
no means clear, for nobody saw him enter.
Mark suggested to Mary, in a whisper, that he had come up through a
trap door. At any rate he was there, and greeted his visitors without
embarrassment.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," he muttered, "sorry to see you standing.
Ah! Dusty, I see;" and with the long tail of his dressing-gown he
proceeded to raise a cloud of dust from four massive oak chairs, much
to the disturbance of Mark's equanimity, who succeeded with some
difficulty in maintaining his gravity. "Sorry," added Mr Tankardew, "to
appear in this dishabille, must excuse and take me as I am."
"Pray don't mention it," replied both his tenants, and then proceeded to
business.
The rent had been paid and receipts duly given, when the old man
raised his eyes and fixed them on Mary's face. She had been sitting
back in the deep recess of a window, terribly afraid of a mirthful
explosion from Mark, and therefore drawing herself as far out of sight
as possible; but now a bright ray of sunshine cast itself full on her
sweet, loving features, and as Mr Tankardew caught their expression he
uttered a sudden exclamation, and stood for a moment as if transfixed
to the spot. Mary felt and looked half-confused, half-frightened, but the
next moment Mr Tankardew turned away, muttered