Chapter 79

Old John did not walk near the Golden Key, for between the Golden Key and the Black Lion there lay a wilderness of streetsa€"as everybody knows who is acquainted with the relative bearings of Clerkenwell and Whitechapela€"and he was by no means famous for pedestrian exercises. But the Golden Key lies in our way, though it was out of his; so to the Golden Key this chapter goes.

The golden key itself, fair emblem of the locksmitha€™s trade, had been pulled down by the rioters, and roughly trampled under foot. But, now, it was hoisted up again in all the glory of a new coat of paint, and showed more bravely even than in days of yore. Indeed the whole house-front was spruce and trim, and so freshened up throughout, that if there yet remained at large any of the rioters who had been concerned in the attack upon it, the sight of the old, goodly, prosperous dwelling, so revived, must have been to them as gall and wormwood.

The shutters of the shop were closed, however, and the window- blinds above were all pulled down, and in place of its usual cheerful appearance, the house had a look of sadness and an air of mourning; which the neighbours, who in old days had often seen poor Barnaby go in and out, were at no loss to understand. The door stood partly open; but the locksmitha€™s hammer was unheard; the cat sat moping on the ashy forge; all was deserted, dark, and silent.

On the threshold of this door, Mr Haredale and Edward Chester met. The younger man gave place; and both passing in with a familiar air, which seemed to denote that they were tarrying there, or were well-accustomed to go to and fro unquestioned, shut it behind them.

Entering the old back-parlour, and ascending the flight of stairs, abrupt and steep, and quaintly fashioned as of old, they turned into the best room; the pride of Mrs Vardena€™s heart, and erst the scene of Miggsa€™s household labours.

a€˜Varden brought the mother here last evening, he told me?a€™ said Mr Haredale.

a€˜She is above-stairs nowa€"in the room over here,a€™ Edward rejoined. a€˜Her grief, they say, is past all telling. I needna€™t adda€"for that you know beforehand, sira€"that the care, humanity, and sympathy of these good people have no bounds.a€™

a€˜I am sure of that. Heaven repay them for it, and for much more! Varden is out?a€™

a€˜He returned with your messenger, who arrived almost at the moment of his coming home himself. He was out the whole nighta€"but that of course you know. He was with you the greater part of it?a€™

a€˜He was. Without him, I should have lacked my right hand. He is an older man than I; but nothing can conquer him.a€™

a€˜The cheeriest, stoutest-hearted