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Updated: June 4, 2025
And now, when Mrs Franklin and Mary had just taken their seats and had begun to look around them, the door was thrown widely open, and the servant announced in a loud voice, "Mr Esau Tankardew!" Every sound was instantly hushed, every head bent forward, every mouth parted in breathless expectation.
Nothing loth, the young lady led off in a brilliant sonata, displaying in the execution more strength of muscle than purity of taste; then came a duet by the eldest and youngest sisters, and then a song by the second. Mr Tankardew expressed his satisfaction emphatically at the conclusion, possibly more at finding the performance ended than at the performance itself.
Several persons put questions to Molly about her master, but found it a very discouraging business, so they gave up the attempt as hopeless, and it remained an unexplained mystery why Mr Tankardew came to Hopeworth, and where he came from.
"If he was like your young friend at the forge, I fear not indeed," said Mr Tankardew. "That drink that accursed drink," he added, rising and approaching the stranger, who was now divesting himself of his wet outer garments.
Mary coloured deeply, and her mother's eyes filled with tears. Mr Tankardew looked earnestly at them both. "No danger of any but sweet variations here," he said; "but all new homes are not sweet homes there's no sweetness that will last where the barrel, the bottle, and the spirit-flask play a trio of discords: they'll drown all the harmonies of harp and piano.
How unjust!" exclaimed Mary, when Mr Tankardew was gone. "Poor Mark! Every one strikes at him." But was it cruel? was it unjust? Let us go with Mark Rothwell himself, as he leaves his house that very night, sneaking out at the backdoor like a felon.
While tea was in progress, Mr Tankardew suddenly surprised his guests by remarking dryly, and abruptly: "You must know, ladies and gentlemen, that my mother was a brewer." "Indeed!" exclaimed Mr Rothwell, in considerable astonishment; and then asked, "was the business an extensive one?" "Pretty well, pretty well," was the reply.
They felt sure that they had not, and yet his voice and face both reminded them of someone they had seen and heard before. The same thing seemed to strike Mr Tankardew, but, as he turned towards the young stranger, the latter started back and uttered a confused exclamation of astonishment.
The horseman took no notice of his loss, nor did he see who were the spectators of his sinful degradation, but to them he was fully revealed: it was Mark Rothwell. Another minute and he was out of sight. Mary sank, with a bitter cry, into her mother's arms, while Mr Tankardew sprang forward to support them both.
"I'm sure I should be the very last to wish any one to expose himself again to such a night on our account." Mr Tankardew had not spoken since the stranger's entrance; he was sitting rather in shadow and the new-comer had scarcely noticed him.
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