Abbot the altrustic

Excerpt: " “ Well, Thomas Whittingham, has your family eaten today?” Thomas half-laughed, as if what Sir Abbot had asked was a joke, “ Eh, no sir.”

So, Lena and Thomas-Mathieu made way back to their home, John, on the other hand explained that he had some “affairs” of the “ upmost importance” that needed tending to and he would follow after them. Therewithal, it would be improper of him to arrive without invite or approval of Mrs. Whittingham, so he agreed upon following shortly behind them.

Thomas-Mathieu grasped Lena’s small hand tightly, as she with her other hand held tightly onto the bread. The two walked on silently, both immersed heavily in thought, so much so in fact they might have fallen into a hole in the ground. For a token of their luck, there wasn’t such a thing to be worried of. Silently,they passed through the town. On the outskirts, flourished numerous large wealthy establishments. Estates, that appeared so to Lena like divine palace which she both admired and feared; therefore she dared not ask of nor look. They forward hence, passed the admirable houses of the bourgeoisie, and then those of the lesser wealth. Onward they came by the large spinning factory, and another not to far off for wheat and barley. They passed, unseen, through a lavish park, though with exception of one gentleman who noticed them, and then quickly espied after them.

Waiting until they had left the gentleman sought their presence; “ Thomas!” The man called, “ Thomas-Mathieu! and is that my tiny Miss Lena?”

Lena stopped, Thomas-Mathieu had, apparently not heard the gentleman, but Lena had made Thomas-Mathieu come to a dead stop. Lena, couldn’t see where the voice had come, but she pointed in which direction she heard it. Thomas-Mathieu turned cautiously around and beheld the thick haze before him. He saw an erect silhouette of a man standing in the distance. Lena squeezed Thomas’ hand tighter. “Whom is it that calls my name?” Thomas demanded gallantly.

“ It is I Thomas, only I.” Replied an old man’s voice.

Thomas’ shoulders relaxed, a smile crept on his face. Lena timidly stepped from behind her brother. The silhouette came into light.

Thomas smiled, and then bowed, “ Sir Abbot.” Then quickly before Sir Abbot could see them clearly, Thomas-Mathieu seized the bread and cake from Lena and stuffed it under his coat. The old gentleman didn’t see this.

When Sir Abbot stopped before them, Lena smiled delightfully and curtseyed.

“ Ah!” Exclaimed the old man, “you haven’t grown very much my dear..”

Sir Abbot was a wealthy gentleman. Admired and respected by all classes for his selfless generosity. He resided in one of the grandest homes of his district. His wealth was tied into the town’s spinning factory, which had been begun by his father twenty years before the turn of the century. Now that Sir Eneas Abbot, whom had rebelliously joined the military at sixteen. Retired fairly middled aged as a respected general and eagerly sought possession of his Father’s business upon his death some many years ago. Since it had come into his possession and had been greatly renovated, the factory has made the source of livelihood for numerous people. Sir Abbot was the rose of the town’s cheek. However generous Sir Abbot had given, and still gives, poverty nonetheless ties it’s accursed hand around many of the town. And being that Sir Abbot owes to the gift of his name, to give too generously would be a dishonor to his title, which he ought better not to forsake. 

Sir Abbot wore on this day wore a fancy red double breasted frock coat, and a pair of beige trousers that were strapped under his walking-shoes. He wore upon his head a modest grey top hat that was slightly trimmed, and flat on it’s top, and in his right hand he carried a cane. His hair was curled slightly, and he had it powdered as his Father’s before him. Sir Abbot was rather stout, his nose thin and sharp. His eyebrows were large and bushy, planted on a round jovial face with round glasses. Over all, he was an endearing sight.

Lena answered his question previously asked, “ aye, not to much sir.”

“ A shame..” Sir Abbot whispered sadly to himself. He turned his head up, speaking more cheerfully, “ Well, Thomas Whittingham, has your family eaten today?”

Thomas half-laughed, as if what Sir Abbot had asked was a joke, “ Eh, no sir.”

Sir Abbot’s eyebrows raised to an excruciating height, then he nodded his head. “ Ah! I see then. They ate heartily yesterday, then.”

“ No sir.” Thomas replied shamefully, “ only crumbs of the previous nights bread.” 

What Thomas spoke of was the truth.

“ Bring yourselves and Mrs. Whittingham to my estate, and you may dine, the servants will have and make something special.”

Lena grew excited, she balled her fists, and she tried earnestly to contain a smile. She badly attempted to refrain from hopping up and down, and tugging on her brother’s coat, but she could not, and she did. “ Oh, brother ma-”

Thomas paid no mind to her, “ God bless you sire, but I am afraid we are obliged to refuse.”

Sir Abbot’s face fell, “ On what grounds?”

Thomas had trouble looking Sir Abbot in the eye. “ It would be a disgrace to our mother, she couldn’t be in debt to you.”

Sir Abbot almost chuckled, “ disgrace? Hah!? Well...” His voiced trailed off.

At the same time Lena’s face fell, her eyes began to swell with tears, making them look considerably larger then they already appeared to be. Her nose grew red. No one paid mind to this.

“ Perhaps then you might-” began Sir Abbot, he reached into his frock and retrieved his pocketbook, he opened it. All the while, tears had been unknowingly forming in Lena’s eyes, and as Sir Abbot fumbled in his book, Thomas-Mathieu noticed a figure blundering in the haze. It appeared to Thomas-Mathieu that it was the silhouette of John Urban-Faire. 

“ Oh..” Sir Abbot stopped dismally. He had opened his book, and Thomas-Mathieu and Lena just happen to insouciantly peer into it. However, to each of their spirits it was empty. Sir Abbot had already given away his days share, not even a shilling remained. “ What a shame!” He exclaimed sincerely.

Thomas-Mathieu saw John Urban-Faire quickly advancing, “ Sir, pardon us, do. Mother is expecting--” Thomas jerked, and the bread and cake fell from under his cloak.

No one moved, and no one said a word, then finally Sir Abbot gently prodded the bread with his cane, withdrew it, then looked at Thomas-Mathieu. “ Were you aware my children that a bakers was robbed today?” He shook his head. “ The baker was so distraught  that he died most instantly, though the bloody brute had it coming to him.” Something burned violently in Sir Abbot’s eyes. He looked away from them, then he half-opened his mouth; staring at Thomas-Mathieu he raised his head high, “ Remember, my children, that if you be in need of anything--” He hesitated, his gaze shifted to a vagueness, then returned seeming so distant however. “ -- anything at all I am at your beckon, my children.”

Sir Abbot shifted his stance. Lena and Thomas looked pitifully at one another. Lena judged quickly at what may have happened, she could possibly had been no closer to the truth. Thomas had his mouth pursed tightly shut, he gathered the fallen bread. Then glanced and espied that John Urban-Faire had moved no further from his spot then he was previous. “ May I enquire upon you health, Sir Abbot?” Thomas asked spontaneously.

Sir Abbot hadn’t been paying attention, he raised his head. Strikingly he appeared ghastly different, but it could not be explained. Perhaps we might say that the smog was getting to him. “ Oh!” Sir Abbot exclaimed, starting back up to “life”, it would be inappropriate here to use “reality”. “ My health..” Sir Abbot began weakly. He chuckled heartily. “ I distinctively believe that I have become quite swollen. My doctor informed me that he fears my ailment is dropsy.”

“ Has he let you?” Thomas inquired.

“ Yes.” Replied Sir Abbot with a solemn bow of his head. His disposition changed, and all at once he began to laugh. “ Several times, why! I believe at least twice a week. I think that I may die of blood loss before I should die of this.”

Lena’s face became all at once more grayer, Sir Abbot caught this. He clenched his cane tightly and miraculously bent down to Lena’s level. “ Now, now my dear. Why, an old man like myself? Ah, you weep for me?”

Lena nodded her head meekly, she tried to be a lady. Not to cry, but she couldn’t. All at once, both Sir Abbot and Thomas-Mathieu embraced her, as Thomas-Mathieu lifted her tiny self onto his shoulders. Sir Abbot took her hand, “ Do not cry, little one for an old man. Embrace your brother, cry to the lord for your mother. Not myself.”

“ You are a kind man.” She sobbed, “ has not anyone cried for you? Shouldn’t they do so?”

“ I am not as good as I appear to your brother, and yourself. I am a rich man, for that I do not think that makes me a good Christian. For if that were so, I should still have to work. I would have to work because..” He began to cry himself. “ All little girls, their brothers, and mothers would have full stomachs, and pretty dresses. Lots of pretty dresses and dolls to play with. To pay for all of that, for all the women, children and boys I would have to work, I pay for myself.. Only myself.”

“ You are a good man Sir Abbot!” Lena cried. Thomas-Mathieu cried to. But Sir Abbot had walked away, his silhouette growing fainter, he called one last time: “ Society, I have given myself to finery. I thrive in finery. Earth’s paradise. In death it is my own invitation to Hell.”

Somewhere, not to far off stood a being. Not a man nor woman, a being. Seen, nor heard by no one. But it looked far and wide toward everyone. It was an invisible warmth. Not cold nor heinous. It showered itself upon Sir Abbot as he returned home and lay sleeping...