At ten o’clock on that night there was a great rattling and ringing at the outer door, and presently my poor girl fell into my arms; and Gus Hoskins sat blubbering in a corner, as I tried my best to console her.

* * * * *

The next morning I was favoured with a visit from Mr. Blatherwick; who, hearing from me that I had only three guineas in my pocket, told me very plainly that lawyers only lived by fees.  He recommended me to quit Cursitor Street, as living there was very expensive.  And as I was sitting very sad, my wife made her appearance (it was with great difficulty that she could be brought to leave me the night previous)—­

“The horrible men came at four this morning,” said she; “four hours before light.”

“What horrible men?” says I.

“Your aunt’s men,” said she, “to remove the furniture they had it all packed before I came away.  And I let them carry all,” said she; “I was too sad to look what was ours and what was not.  That odious Mr. Wapshot was with them; and I left him seeing the last waggon-load from the door.  I have only brought away your clothes,” added she, “and a few of mine; and some of the books you used to like to read; and some—­some things I have been getting for the—­for the baby.  The servants’ wages were paid up to Christmas; and I paid them the rest.  And see! just as I was going away, the post came, and brought to me my half-year’s income—­35_l_., dear Sam.  Isn’t it a blessing?”

“Will you pay my bill, Mr. What-d’ye-call-’im?” here cried Mr. Aminadab, flinging open the door (he had been consulting with Mr. Blatherwick, I suppose).  “I want the room for a gentleman.  I guess it’s too dear for the like of you.”  And here—­will you believe it?—­the man handed me a bill of three guineas for two days’ board and lodging in his odious house.

* * * * *

There was a crowd of idlers round the door as I passed out of it, and had I been alone I should have been ashamed of seeing them; but, as it was, I was only thinking of my dear dear wife, who was leaning trustfully on my arm, and smiling like heaven into my face—­ay, and took heaven, too, into the Fleet prison with me—­or an angel out of heaven.  Ah!  I had loved her before, and happy it is to love when one is hopeful and young in the midst of smiles and sunshine; but be unhappy, and then see what it is to be loved by a good woman!  I declare before Heaven, that of all the joys and happy moments it has given me, that was the crowning one—­that little ride, with my wife’s cheek on my shoulder, down Holborn to the prison!  Do you think I cared for the bailiff that sat opposite?  No, by the Lord!  I kissed her, and hugged her—­yes, and cried with her likewise.  But before our ride was over her eyes dried up, and she stepped blushing and happy out of the coach at the prison door, as if she were a princess going to the Queen’s Drawing-room.

CHAPTER XII