Part 7 (1/2)

”Come up out o' that!” cried I, ”leave the room, instantly.”

The landlady vanished with a celerity that was rather remarkable, considering her extreme corpulence.

After a short pause, Mrs. Raymond said to me--

”You see to what abuse my circ.u.mstances subject me.”

”Would to G.o.d my circ.u.mstances were such as to render you that a.s.sistance you so much need; would that I could raise you from such unendurable misery! But to speak without equivocation, my condition is as penniless as your own.”

”Then you can, indeed, sympathize with my distress.”

”Most sincerely; but you must not go alone in quest of that villainous husband;--and money will be necessary.”

”This harp will--”

”Oh, no--you can never part with it.”

”I must.”

”Then let it be but temporarily. There is a p.a.w.nbroker's shop on the next square, there we can redeem it--if you can for a time endure to have it removed from your sight.”

”No matter,” said my heroine, undauntedly, ”a wronged woman can endure anything when she is in pursuit of vengeance. The weather is delicious; we will travel leisurely, and have a very pleasant time. Should our money become exhausted, we will solicit the hospitality of the good old Pennsylvania farmers, who are renowned for their kindness to travellers, and who will not refuse a bite and a sup, or a night's shelter, to two poor wanderers. If you refuse to accompany me, I will go alone.”

”I will go with you to the end of the earth!” I exclaimed, with enthusiasm, for I could not help admiring the n.o.ble courage of that beautiful woman, whose splendid countenance now glowed with all the animation of antic.i.p.ated vengeance.

She pressed my hand warmly, in acknowledgement of my devotion; and then, having put on her bonnet and shawl, she announced herself as being in readiness to set out.

”I have no valuables of any kind,” said she, ”and the landlady is welcome to this furniture, which will discharge my indebtedness to her.

I shall return to this house no more.”

I shouldered the harp, and we left the house without encountering the amiable landlady.

To reach the nearest p.a.w.nbroker's, it was necessary to pa.s.s through one of the princ.i.p.al streets. To my dismay a crowd of actors, reporters and others were a.s.sembled upon the steps of a hotel. The rascals spied me out before I could cross over; and so, putting on as bold a front as possible, I walked on pretending not to notice them, while a ”running commentary,” something like the following, was kept up until I was out of hearing:

”_Stag his knibbs_,”[H] said the ”heavy man” of the Arch street theatre.

”Thompson, give us a tune!” bawled out a miserable wretch of a light comedian, or ”walking gentleman.”

”Jem Baggs, the _Wandering Minstrel_, by G----!” yelled a pitiful demon of a newspaper reporter.

”Who is that magnificent woman accompanying him?” inquired a dandy editor, raising his eye-gla.s.s and surveying my fair companion with an admiring gaze.

”Egad! she's a beauty!” cried all the fellows, in a chorus. Mrs. Raymond blushed and smiled. It was evident that these expressions of admiration were not displeasing to her.

”Excuse those gentlemen,” said I to her, apologetically--”they are all particular friends of mine.”

”I am not offended; indeed they are very complimentary,” responded the lady, with a gay laugh. She had the most musical laugh in the world, and the most beautiful one to _look at_, for it displayed her fine, pearly teeth to the most charming advantage.

We reached the p.a.w.nbroker's and I went boldly in while Mrs. Raymond waited for me outside the door, for I did not wish her to be exposed to the mortification of being stared at by those who might be in the shop.