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Updated: April 30, 2025
"He's not like either of us, Aggy." "Like either of you?" said Mr. Dryce, surprised. "How should he be like your husband, Mrs. Harris?" "Don't you know me, sir," said the stranger, taking Mr. Dryce's hand and sitting in the firelight. "My name is Robert Dryce, and this is my child, whose mother left it to the mercy of Heaven, and found that it had reached its natural home.
It was late one evening that he sat talking to her in this way, but still with a rather absent manner, for his heavy ledgers and cash-books lay beside him on the table. She would have taken the child away, but Mr. Dryce told her to let him remain, and at the same time asked her to step down into the counting-house, and if Mr. Jaggers had not left for the night, to ask him to come up. Now Mr.
It was arranged between them, therefore, that, after a time, during which Robert should accept the situation at Liverpool, a more successful appeal might be made to Dryce senior, and that a letter addressed to him should be sent under cover to Jaggers, who would lay it on his table. Robert and his young wife went away, leaving this good-natured fellow to watch their interests.
"We must finish this the day after to-morrow, Jaggers," said Mr. Dryce. "I won't keep you longer." Mr. Jaggers put on his coat and hat, and bade his employer good-night, and he had no sooner left the room than Mrs. Harris came in to fetch the little one, for, as she said, "it was already past his bedtime."
Forgive us, sir, for our child's sake." Old Dryce was a shrewd man, but it took an hour to make him understand it all; events had come about so strangely. "Well," said Robert at last, "I'm glad you were in time to save the money." "Confound the money!" ejaculated the old man; "at least, too much of it," he added, correcting himself.
A year passed, and the letter had been written, but remained unanswered; indeed, according to Jaggers's showing, Richard Dryce was more inveterate than ever, and was unapproachable on the subject of his undutiful son, in pleading whose cause he, Jaggers, had very nearly obtained his own dismissal.
They all went upstairs together, except the policeman, whose question was answered by a recital of the events of the night, and the present of a sovereign. "Bring down the boy, and let me look at his dear little face," said old Dryce, when they were sitting round the fire. The child was brought down tenderly, and still asleep. "God bless him!" said the bearded stranger.
One of the people whom he disliked most said that he was "a buttoned-up man," and Richard Dryce could never forgive him the description was so true.
Perhaps it was; but, whether or not, Richard Dryce went the very way to make it so when he laughed that discordant laugh, and, with a taunt against his son's weakness of purpose and his dependent position, told him to dismiss such a scheming little hussey from his thoughts, for he was to marry when he had permission, which would never be granted to such a match as the beadle wanted to bring about.
The dimmest, darkest, and dirtiest of all the houses round the yard was that of Richard Dryce & Co., factors and general merchants. It was never known who was the Co., for Richard Dryce managed his own business, and lived in the house, in one of the back rooms of which overlooking a square paved courtyard he had been born.
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