FullReads

“Why then, thank God!” said Kit. “Come what may, I shall always have one drop of happiness in my heart when I think that you said that.”

At this the poor woman fell a-crying again, and soon, all too soon, the turnkey cried “Time’s up!” and Kit was taken off in an instant, with a blessing from his mother and a scream from little Jacob ringing in his ears.

Eight weary days dragged themselves along, and on the ninth the case of Christopher Nubbles came up in Court; and the aforesaid Christopher was called upon to plead guilty or not guilty to an indictment for that he, the aforesaid Christopher, did feloniously abstract and steal from the dwelling-house and office of one Sampson Brass, gentleman, one bank-note for five pounds, issued for Governor and Company of the Bank of England.

By a cleverly worked-up case on his opponent’s side, Kit is so cross-examined as to be found guilty by the jury, and is sentenced to be transported for a term of years.

Kit’s mother, poor woman, is waiting, and when the news is told a sad interview ensues. ” He never did it !” she cries.

“Well,” says the turnkey, “I won’t contradict you. It’s all one now, whether he did it or not.”

“Some friend will rise up for us, mother,” cried Kit. “I am sure. If not now, before long. My innocence will come out, mother, and I shall be brought back again, I feel confident of that. You must teach little Jacob and the baby how all this was, for if they thought I had ever been dishonest, when they grew old enough to understand, it would break my heart to know it, if I was thousands of miles away. Oh, is there no good gentleman here who will take care of her!”

In all Kit’s life that was the darkest moment, when he saw his mother led away, half fainting, and heard the grating of his cell door as he entered–entangled in a network of false evidence and treachery from which there seemed no way of escape.

Meanwhile, however, while Kit was being found guilty, a young servant in the employ of the Brasses was also guilty of listening at keyholes, listening to a conversation which was not intended for her ears, in which she heard the entire plot by which Mr. Brass had entrapped and condemned Kit. How he had himself placed the money in Kit’s hat while it lay upon the office table; and how the whole plan had been successful. The small servant, friendly to Kit, and hating her employers, lost no time in repeating what she had heard to Mr. Garland, and he, the notary, and the strange gentleman, after carefully arranging their plan, confronted the Brasses with evidence of their guilt so overwhelmingly true, that they could do nothing but confess their crime, and Kit’s innocence, while Mr. Garland hastened to him with the glad news of his freedom.

Lighted rooms, bright fires, cheerful faces, the music of glad voices, words of love and welcome, warm hearts and tears of happiness–what a change is this! But it is to such delights that Kit is hastening. They are awaiting him, he knows. He fears he will die of joy before he gets among them.

When they are drawing near their journey’s end he begs they may go more slowly, and when the house appears in sight that they may stop,–only for a minute or two, to give him time to breathe.

But there is no stopping then, for they are already at the garden gate. Next minute they are at the door. There is a noise of tongues and a tread of feet inside. It opens. Kit rushes in and finds his mother clinging round his neck. And there is Mrs. Garland, neater and nicer than ever, fainting away stone dead with nobody to help her; and there is Mr. Abel violently blowing his nose and wanting to embrace everybody; and there is the strange gentleman hovering round them all, and there is that good, dear little Jacob sitting all alone by himself on the bottom stair, with his hands on his knees, like an old man, roaring fearfully without giving any trouble to anybody; and each and all of them are for the time clean out of their wits.

Well! In the next room there are decanters of wine, and all that sort of thing set out as grand as if Kit and his friends were first-rate company; and there is little Jacob walking, as the popular phrase is, into a home-made plum cake at a most surprising rate, and keeping his eye on the figs and oranges which are to follow.

Kit no sooner comes in than the strange gentleman drinks his health, and tells him he shall never want a friend as long as he lives, and so does Mr. Garland, and so does Mrs. Garland, and so does Mr. Abel. But even this honour and distinction is not all, for the strange gentleman forthwith pulls out of his pocket a massive silver watch–and upon the back of this watch is engraved Kit’s name with flourishes all over–and in short it is Kit’s watch, bought expressly for him. Mr. and Mrs. Garland can’t help hinting about their present, in store, and Mr. Abel tells outright that he has his; and Kit is the happiest of the happy.

There is one friend that Kit has not seen yet, and he takes the first opportunity of slipping away and hurrying to the stable, and when Kit goes up to caress and pat him, the pony rubs his nose against his coat and fondles him more lovingly than ever pony fondled man. It is the crowning circumstance of his earnest, heartfelt reception; and Kit fairly puts his arm round Whisker’s neck and hugs him.

Happy Christopher!–the darkest days of his life are past–the brightest are yet to be. Let us wish him all joy and prosperity and leave him on the threshold of manhood!