- end_line
- 1148
- extracted_at
- 2026-01-30T20:47:57.722Z
- extracted_by
- structure-extraction-lambda
- start_line
- 1095
- text
- wondering what was to come. At length, with an effort mastering his
feelings, in a tolerably composed tone he spoke:
"If I remember, you are a mason, Mr. Roberts?"
"Yes, yes."
Averting himself a moment, as to recover from a return of agitation, the
stranger grasped the other's hand; "and would you not loan a brother a
shilling if he needed it?"
The merchant started, apparently, almost as if to retreat.
"Ah, Mr. Roberts, I trust you are not one of those business men, who
make a business of never having to do with unfortunates. For God's sake
don't leave me. I have something on my heart--on my heart. Under
deplorable circumstances thrown among strangers, utter strangers. I want
a friend in whom I may confide. Yours, Mr. Roberts, is almost the first
known face I've seen for many weeks."
It was so sudden an outburst; the interview offered such a contrast to
the scene around, that the merchant, though not used to be very
indiscreet, yet, being not entirely inhumane, remained not entirely
unmoved.
The other, still tremulous, resumed:
"I need not say, sir, how it cuts me to the soul, to follow up a social
salutation with such words as have just been mine. I know that I
jeopardize your good opinion. But I can't help it: necessity knows no
law, and heeds no risk. Sir, we are masons, one more step aside; I will
tell you my story."
In a low, half-suppressed tone, he began it. Judging from his auditor's
expression, it seemed to be a tale of singular interest, involving
calamities against which no integrity, no forethought, no energy, no
genius, no piety, could guard.
At every disclosure, the hearer's commiseration increased. No
sentimental pity. As the story went on, he drew from his wallet a bank
note, but after a while, at some still more unhappy revelation, changed
it for another, probably of a somewhat larger amount; which, when the
story was concluded, with an air studiously disclamatory of alms-giving,
he put into the stranger's hands; who, on his side, with an air
studiously disclamatory of alms-taking, put it into his pocket.
Assistance being received, the stranger's manner assumed a kind and
degree of decorum which, under the circumstances, seemed almost
coldness. After some words, not over ardent, and yet not exactly
inappropriate, he took leave, making a bow which had one knows not what
of a certain chastened independence about it; as if misery, however
burdensome, could not break down self-respect, nor gratitude, however
deep, humiliate a gentleman.
- title
- Chunk 3