One morning, shortly after the disasters which we have described, Mr
Witherington descended to his breakfast-room somewhat earlier than
usual, and found his green morocco easy-chair already tenanted by no
less a personage than William the footman, who, with his feet on the
fender, was so attentively reading the newspaper that he did not hear
his master's entrance. "By my ancestor, who fought on his stumps! but I
hope you are quite comfortable, Mr William; nay, I beg I may not
disturb you, sir."
William, although as impudent as most of his fraternity, was a little
taken aback. "I beg your pardon, sir, but Mr Jonathan had not time to
look over the paper."
"Nor is it required that he should, that I know of, sir."
"Mr Jonathan says, sir, that it is always right to look over the
_deaths_, that news of that kind may not shock you."
"Very considerate, indeed."
"And there is a story there, sir, about a shipwreck."
"A shipwreck! where, William? God bless me! where is it?"
"I am afraid it is the same ship you are so anxious about, sir,--the--I
forget the name, sir."
Mr Witherington took the newspaper, and his eye soon caught the
paragraph in which the rescue of the two negroes and child from the
wreck of the _Circassian_ was fully detailed.
"It is indeed!" exclaimed Mr Witherington. "My poor Cecilia in an open
boat! one of the boats was seen to go down,--perhaps she's dead--
merciful God! one boy saved. Mercy on me! where's Jonathan?"
"Here, sir," replied Jonathan, very solemnly, who had just brought in
the eggs, and now stood erect as a mute behind his master's chair, for
it was a case of danger, if not of death.
"I must go to Portsmouth immediately after breakfast--shan't eat
though--appetite all gone."
"People seldom do, sir, on these melancholy occasions," replied
Jonathan. "Will you take your own carriage, sir, or a mourning coach?"
"A mourning coach at fourteen miles an hour, with two pair of horses!
Jonathan, you're crazy."
"Will you please to have black silk hatbands and gloves for the coachman
and servants who attend you, sir?"
"Confound your shop! no; this is a resurrection, not a death; it appears
that the negro thinks only one of the boats went down."
"_Mors omnia vincit_," quoth Jonathan, casting up his eyes.
"Never you mind that; mind your own business. That's the postman's
knock--see if there are any letters."
There were several; and amongst the others there was one from Captain
Maxwell, of the _Eurydice_, detailing the circumstances already known,
and informing Mr Witherington that he had despatched the two negroes
and the child to his address by that day's coach, and that one of the
officers, who was going to town by the same conveyance, would see them
safe to his house.
Captain Maxwell was an old acquaintance of Mr Witherington--had dined
at his house in company with the Templemores, and therefore had
extracted quite enough information from the negroes to know where to
direct them.
"By the blood of my ancestors! they'll be here to night," cried Mr
Witherington; "and I have saved my journey. What is to be done? better
tell Mary to get rooms ready: d'ye hear, William? beds for one little
boy and two niggers."
"Yes, sir," replied William; "but where are the black people to be put?"
"Put! I don't care; one may sleep with cook, the other with Mary."
"Very well, sir, I'll tell them," replied William, hastening away,
delighted at the row which he anticipated in the kitchen.
"If you please, sir," observed Jonathan, "one of the negroes is, I
believe, a man."
"Well, what then?"
"Only, sir, the maids may object to sleep with him."
"By all the plagues of the Witheringtons! this is true; well, you may
take him, Jonathan--you like that colour."
"Not in the dark, sir," replied Jonathan with a bow.
"Well, then, let them sleep together: so that affair is settled."
"Are they man and wife, sir?" said the butler.
"The devil take them both! how should I know? Let me have my breakfast,
and we'll talk over the matter by-and-by."
Mr Witherington applied to his eggs, and muffin, eating his breakfast
as fast as he could, without knowing why; but the reason was that he was
puzzled and perplexed with the anticipated arrival, and longed to think
quietly over the dilemma, for it was a dilemma to an old bachelor. As
soon as he had swallowed his second cup of tea he put himself into his
easy-chair, in an easy attitude, and was very soon soliloquising as
follows:--
"By the blood of the Witheringtons! what am I, an old bachelor, to do
with a baby, and a wet-nurse as black as the ace of spades, and another
black fellow in the bargain. Send him back again? yes, that's best: but
the child--woke every morning at five o'clock with its squalling--
obliged to kiss it three times a-day--pleasant!--and then that nigger of
a nurse--thick lips--kissing child all day, and then holding it out to
me--ignorant as a cow--if child has the stomach-ache she'll cram a
pepper-pod down its throat--West India fashion--children never without
the stomach-ache!--my poor, poor cousin!--what has become of her and the
other child, too?--wish they may pick her up, poor dear! and then she
will come and take care of her own children--don't know what to do--
great mind to send for sister Moggy--but she's so fussy--won't be in a
hurry. Think again."
Here Mr Witherington was interrupted by two taps at the door.
"Come in," said he; and the cook, with her face as red as if she had
been dressing a dinner for eighteen, made her appearance without the
usual clean apron.
"If you please, sir," said she, curtseying, "I will thank you to suit
yourself with another cook."
"Oh, very well," replied Mr Witherington, angry at the interruption.
"And if you please, sir, I should like to go this very day--indeed, sir,
I shall not stay."
"Go to the devil! if you please," replied Mr Witherington, angrily;
"but first go out and shut the door after you."
The cook retired, and Mr Witherington was again alone.
"Confound the old woman--what a huff she is in! won't cook for black
people, I suppose--yes, that's it."
Here Mr Witherington was again interrupted by a second double tap at
the door.
"Oh! thought better of it, I suppose. Come in."
It was not the cook, but Mary, the housemaid, that entered.
"If you please, sir," said she, whimpering, "I should wish to leave my
situation."
"A conspiracy, by heavens! Well, you may go."
"To-night, sir, if you please," answered the woman.
"This moment, for all I care!" exclaimed Mr Witherington in his wrath.
The housemaid retired; and Mr Witherington took some time to compose
himself.
"Servants all going to the devil in this country," said he at last;
"proud fools--won't clean rooms after black people, I suppose--yes,
that's it, confound them all, black and white! here's my whole
establishment upset by the arrival of a baby. Well, it is very
uncomfortable--what shall I do?--send for sister Moggy?--no, I'll send
for Jonathan."
Mr Witherington rang the bell, and Jonathan made his appearance.
"What is all this, Jonathan?" said he; "cook angry--Mary crying--both
going away--what's it all about?"
"Why, sir, they were told by William that it was your positive order
that the two black people were to sleep with them; and I believe he told
Mary that the man was to sleep with her."
"Confound that fellow! he's always at mischief; you know, Jonathan, I
never meant that."
"I thought not, sir, as it is quite contrary to custom," replied
Jonathan.
"Well, then, tell them so, and let's hear no more about it."
Mr Witherington then entered into a consultation with his butler, and
acceded to the arrangements proposed by him. The parties arrived in due
time, and were properly accommodated. Master Edward was not troubled
with the stomach-ache, neither did he wake Mr Witherington at five
o'clock in the morning; and, after all, it was not very uncomfortable.
But, although things were not quite so uncomfortable as Mr Witherington
had anticipated, still they were not comfortable; and Mr Witherington
was so annoyed by continual skirmishes with his servants, complaints
from Judy, in bad English, of the cook, who, it must be owned, had taken
a prejudice against her and Coco, occasional illness of the child, et
cetera, that he found his house no longer quiet and peaceable. Three
months had now nearly passed, and no tidings of the boats had been
received; and Captain Maxwell, who came up to see Mr Witherington, gave
it as his decided opinion that they must have foundered in the gale.
As, therefore, there appeared to be no chance of Mrs Templemore coming
to take care of her child, Mr Witherington at last resolved to write to
Bath, where his sister resided, and acquaint her with the whole story,
requesting her to come and superintend his domestic concerns. A few
days afterwards he received the following reply:--
"_Bath, August_.
"My dear Brother Antony,
"Your letter arrived safe to hand on Wednesday last, and I must say
that I was not a little surprised at its contents; indeed, I thought
so much about it that I revoked at Lady Betty Blabkin's whist-party,
and lost four shillings and sixpence. You say that you have a child
at your house belonging to your cousin, who married in so indecorous a
manner. I hope what you say is true; but, at the same time, I know
what bachelors are guilty of; although, as Lady Betty says, it is
better never to talk or even to hint about these improper things. I
cannot imagine why men should consider themselves, in an unmarried
state, as absolved from that purity which maidens are so careful to
preserve; and so says Lady Betty, with whom I had a little
conversation on the subject. As, however, the thing is done, she
agrees with me that it is better to hush it up as well as we can.
"I presume that you do not intend to make the child your heir, which I
should consider as highly improper; and, indeed, Lady Betty tells me
that the legacy-duty is ten per cent, and that it cannot be avoided.
However, I make it a rule never to talk about these sort of things.
As for your request that I will come up and superintend your
establishment, I have advised with Lady Betty on the subject, and she
agrees with me that, for the honour of the family, it is better that I
should come, as it will save appearances. You are in a peck of
troubles, as most men are who are free-livers and are led astray by
artful and alluring females. However, as Lady Betty says, `the least
said, the soonest mended.'
"I will, therefore, make the necessary arrangements for letting my
house, and hope to join you in about ten days; sooner, I cannot, as I
find that my engagements extend to that period. Many questions have
already been put to me on this unpleasant subject; but I always give
but one answer, which is, that bachelors will be bachelors; and that,
at all events, it is not so bad as if you were a married man: for I
make it a rule never to talk about, or even to hint about, these sort
of things, for, as Lady Betty says, `Men will get into scrapes, and
the sooner things are hushed up the better.' So no more at present
from your affectionate sister,
"Margaret Witherington.
"PS. Lady Betty and I both agree that you are very right in hiring
two black people to bring the child into your house, as it makes the
thing look _foreign_ to the neighbours, and we can keep our own
secrets.
"M.W."
"Now, by all the sins of the Witheringtons, if this is not enough to
drive a man out of his senses!--Confound the suspicious old maid! I'll
not let her come into this house. Confound Lady Betty, and all
scandal-loving old tabbies like her! Bless me!" continued Mr
Witherington, throwing the letter on the table with a deep sigh, "this
is anything but comfortable."
But if Mr Witherington found it anything but comfortable at the
commencement, he found it unbearable in the sequel.
His sister Moggy arrived, and installed herself in the house with all
the pomp and protecting air of one who was the saviour of her brother's
reputation and character. When the child was first brought down to her,
instead of perceiving at once its likeness to Mr Templemore, which was
very strong, she looked at it and at her brother's face with her only
eye, and shaking her finger, exclaimed--
"Oh, Antony! Antony! and did you expect to deceive me?--the nose--the
mouth exact--Antony, for shame! fie, for shame!"
But we must hurry over the misery that Mr Witherington's kindness and
benevolence brought upon him. Not a day passed--scarcely an hour,
without his ears being galled with his sister's insinuations. Judy and
Coco were sent back to America; the servants, who had remained so long
in his service, gave warning one by one, and afterwards, were changed as
often almost as there was a change in the moon. She ruled the house and
her brother despotically; and all poor Mr Witherington's comfort was
gone until the time arrived when Master Edward was to be sent to school.
Mr Witherington then plucked up courage, and after a few stormy months
drove his sister back to Bath, and once more found himself comfortable.
Edward came home during the holidays, and was a great favourite; but the
idea had become current that he was the son of the old gentleman, and
the remarks made were so unpleasant and grating to him, that he was not
sorry, much as he was attached to the boy, when he declared his
intention to choose the profession of a sailor.
Captain Maxwell introduced him into the service; and afterwards, when,
in consequence of ill health and exhaustion, he was himself obliged to
leave it for a time, he procured for his _protege_ other ships. We
must, therefore, allow some years to pass away, during which time Edward
Templemore pursues his career, Mr Witherington grows older and more
particular, and his sister Moggy amuses herself with Lady Betty's
remarks and her darling game of whist.
During all this period no tidings of the boats, or of Mrs Templemore
and her infant, had been heard; it was therefore naturally conjectured
that they had all perished, and they were remembered but as things that
had been.