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Updated: May 17, 2025
Tymperley committed to a singular piece of deception, a fraud which could not easily be discovered, and which injured only its perpetrator. Since then about a year had elapsed. Mr. Tymperley had seen his friends perhaps half a dozen times, his enjoyment of their society pathetically intense, but troubled by any slightest allusion to his mode of life.
'Thank you, father, replied Rose, very quietly and simply. It was next morning that the father posted a formal, proper, self-respecting note of invitation, which bore results. It was in the drawing-room, after dinner. Mrs. Charman, the large and kindly hostess, sank into a chair beside her little friend Mrs. Loring, and sighed a question. 'How do you like Mr. Tymperley? 'Very nice.
Tymperley was not much of a psychologist. But all at once he saw with awful perspicacity the moral crisis through which he had been living. And it taught him one more truth on the subject of poverty. Immediately after his breakfast he went downstairs and tapped at the door of Mr. Suggs' sitting-room.
Tymperley, a gentleman of Berkshire, once living in comfort and modest dignity on the fruit of sound investments.
Waking at eight o'clock he knew the time by a bell that clanged in the neighbourhood Mr. Tymperley clad himself with nervous haste. On opening his door, he found lying outside a tray, with the materials of a breakfast reduced to its lowest terms: half a pint of milk, bread, butter.
It cost him an exertion of physical strength to conclude the letter. When it was done, he went out, purchased a stamp at a tobacconist's shop, and dropped the envelope into the post. Little slumber had Mr. Tymperley that night. On lying down, he began to wonder where he should find the poor people worthy of sharing in this benefaction.
On opening it, the first thing he saw was a cheque. This excited him still more; he unfolded the written sheet with agitation. It came from Mrs. Weare, who wrote thus: 'MY DEAR MR. TYMPERLEY, After our talk last evening, I could not help thinking of you and your beautiful life of self-sacrifice.
There remained to him a capital which he durst not expend; invested, it bore him an income upon which a labourer could scarce have subsisted. The only possible place of residence because the only sure place of hiding was London, and to London Mr. Tymperley betook himself. Not at once did he learn the art of combating starvation with minim resources.
He drifted into a corner, and there would have sat alone, seemingly at peace, had not Mrs. Weare presently moved to a seat beside him. 'I hope you won't be staying in town through August, Mr. Tymperley? 'No! Oh no! Oh no, I think not! 'But you seem uncertain. Do forgive me if I say that I'm sure you need a change. Really, you know, you are not looking quite the thing.
About eight o'clock in the evening, after a meditative stroll in the air which he had so praised, he entered the shop where he was wont to make his modest purchases. A fat woman behind the counter nodded familiarly to him, with a grin at another customer. Mr. Tymperley bowed, as was his courteous habit. 'Oblige me, he said, 'with one new-laid egg, and a small, crisp lettuce.
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