“Has the post come in yet, Rose?” inquired Mrs. Arundel, as she made
her appearance in the breakfast-room the following morning.
“No, mamma; it is late to-day, I think.”
“It is always late when I particularly expect a letter; that old
creature Richards the postman has a spite against me, I am certain,
because I once said in his hearing that he looked like an owl--the
imbecile!”
“Oh, mamma! he’s a charming old man, with his venerable white hair.”
“Very likely, my dear, but he’s extremely like an owl, nevertheless,”
replied Mrs. Arundel, cutting bread and butter with the quickness and
regularity of a steam-engine as she spoke.
“Here’s the letters, ma’am,” exclaimed Rachel, entering with a polished
face beaming out of a marvellous morning cap, composed of a species of
opaque muslin (or some analogous female fabric), which appeared to
be labouring under a violent eruption of little thick dots, strongly
suggestive of small-pox. “Here’s the letters, ma’am. If you please, I
can’t get Mr. Lewis out of bed nohow, though I’ve knocked at his door
three times this here blessed morning; and the last time he made a noise
at me in French, or some other wicked foreigneering lingo; which is
what I won’t put up with--no! not if you was to go down upon your bended
knees to me without a hassock.”
“Give me the letters, Rachel,” said Mrs. Arundel eagerly.
“Letters, indeed!” was the reply, as, with an indignant toss of the
head, Rachel, whose temper appeared to have been soaked in vinegar
during the night, flung the wished-for missives upon the table.
“Letters, indeed! them’s all as you care about, and not a poor gal
as slaves and slaves, and gets insulted for her trouble; but I’m come
to----”
“You’re come to bring the toast just at the right moment,” said Lewis,
who had approached unobserved, “and you’re going down to give Faust his
breakfast; and he is quite ready for it, too, poor fellow!”
As he spoke, a marvellous change seemed to come over the temper and
countenance of Rachel: her ideas, as she turned to leave the room, may
be gathered from the following soliloquy, which appeared to escape her
unawares:--“He’s as ’andsome as a duke, let alone his blessed father;
but them was shocking words for a Christian with a four years’ carikter
to put up with.”
During Rachel’s little attempt at an _émeute_, which the appearance of
Lewis had so immediately quelled, Mrs. Arundel had been eagerly perusing
a letter, which she now handed to Rose, saying, with an air of triumph,
“Read that, my dear.”
“Good news, I hope, my dear mother, from your manner?” observed Lewis,
interrogatively.
“Excellent news,” replied Mrs. Arundel gaily. “Show your brother the
letter, Rose. Oh! that good, kind Lady Lombard!” Rose did as she was
desired, but from the anxiety with which she scanned her brother’s
countenance, as he hastily ran his eye over the writing, it was evident
she doubted whether the effect the letter might produce upon him would
be altogether of an agreeable nature. Nor was her suspicion unfounded,
for as he became acquainted with its contents a storm-cloud gathered
upon Lewis’s brow. The letter was as follows:--
“My dear Mrs. Arundel,--To assist the afflicted, and to relieve the
unfortunate, as well by the influence of the rank and station which have
been graciously entrusted to me, as by the judicious employment of such
pecuniary superfluity as the munificence of my poor dear late husband
has placed me in a position to disburse, has always been my motto
through life. The many calls of the numerous dependents on the
liberality of the late lamented Sir Pinchbeck, with constant
applications from the relatives of his poor dear predecessor (the
Girkins are a very large family, and some of the younger branches have
turned out shocking pickles), reduce the charitable fund at my disposal
to a smaller sum than, from the noble character of my last lamented
husband’s will, may generally be supposed. I am, therefore, all the more
happy to be able to inform you that, owing to the too high estimation in
which my kind neighbours in and about Comfortown hold any recommendation
of mine, I can, should you determine on settling near our pretty little
town, promise you six pupils to begin with, and a prospect of many more
should youi method of imparting instruction in the delightful science of
music realise the very high expectations raised by my eulogium on your
talents, vocal and instrumental. That such will be the case I cannot
doubt, from my recollection of the touching manner in which, when we
visited your sweet little cottage on our (alas! too happy) wedding trip,
you and your dear departed sang, at my request, that lovely thing, ‘La
ci darem la mano.’ (What a fine voice Captain Arundel had!) I dare say,
with such a good memory as yours, you will remember how the late Sir
Pinchbeck observed that it put him in mind of the proudest moment of
his life, when at St. George’s, Hanover Square, his friend, the Very
Reverend the Dean of Dinnerton, made him the happy husband of the
relict of the late John Girkin. Ah! my dear madam, we widows learn to
sympathise with misfortune; one does not survive two such men as the
late Mr. Girkin, though he was somewhat peppery at times, and the late
lamented Sir Pinchbeck Lombard, in spite of his fidgety ways and chronic
cough, without feeling that a vale of tears is not desirable for a
permanency. If it would be any convenience to you when you part with
your cottage (I am looking out for a tenant for it) to stay with me for
a week or ten days, I shall be happy to receive you, and would ask a few
influential families to hear you sing some evening, which might prove
useful to you. Of course I cannot expect you to part with your daughter,
as she will so soon have to quit you (I mentioned her to my friend
Lady Babbycome, but she was provided with a governess), and wish you to
understand my invitation extends to her also.
“I am, dear Madam, ever your very sincere friend,
“Sarah Matilda Lombard.
“P.S.--Would your son like to go to Norfolk Island for fourteen years?
I think I know a way of sending him free of expense. The climate is said
to produce a very beneficial effect on the British constitution; and
with a salary of sixty pounds a year, and an introduction to the best
society the Island affords, a young man in your son’s circumstances
would scarcely be justified in refusing the post of junior secretary to
the governor.”
“Is the woman mad?” exclaimed Lewis impetuously, as he finished reading
the foregoing letter, “or what right has she to insult us in this
manner?”
“Insult us, my dear,” replied Mrs. Arundel quickly, disregarding a
deprecatory look from Rose. “Lady Lombard has answered my note
informing her that I wished for musical pupils with equal kindness and
promptitude. Mad, indeed! she is considered a very superior woman by
many people, I can assure you, and her generosity and good nature know
no bounds.”
“Perish such generosity!” was Lewis’s angry rejoinder. “Is it not
bitterness enough to have one’s energies cramped, one’s free-will
fettered by the curse of poverty, but you must advertise our
wretchedness to the world, and put it in the power of a woman, whose
pride of purse and narrowness of mind stand forth in every line of that
hateful letter, to buy a right to insult us with her patronage? You
might at least have waited till you knew you had no other alternative
left. What right have you to degrade _me_, by letting yourself down to
sue for the charity of _any one?_”
“Dearest Lewis,” murmured Rose, imploringly, “remember it is mamma you
are speaking to.”
“Rose, I do remember it; but it is the thought that it _is_ my mother,
my honoured father’s widow, who, by her own imprudence, to use the
mildest term, has brought this insult upon us, that maddens me.”
“But, Lewis,” interposed Mrs. Arundel, equally surprised and alarmed
at this unexpected outburst, “I cannot understand what all this fuss
is about; I see no insult; on the contrary, Lady Lombard writes as
kindly----”
An exclamation of ungovernable anger burst from Lewis, and he appeared
on the point of losing all self-control, when Rose, catching his eye,
glanced for a moment towards her father’s portrait. Well did she read
the generous though fiery nature of him with whom she had to deal: no
sooner did Lewis perceive the direction of her gaze, than, by a strong
effort, he checked all further expression of his feelings, and turning
towards the window, stood apparently looking out for some minutes. At
length he said abruptly--
“Mother, you must forgive me; I am hot and impetuous, and all this has
taken me so completely by surprise. After all, it was only my affection
for you and Rose which made me resent your patronising friend’s
impertinent benevolence; but the fact is, I hope and believe you have
been premature in asking her assistance. I have little doubt I shall
succeed in obtaining a situation or employment of some kind, which will
be sufficiently lucrative to prevent the necessity of your either giving
up the cottage, or being separated from Rose. I have written to Frere
about it, and expect to hear from him in a day or two.”
“My dear boy, would you have us live here in idleness and luxury, while
you are working yourself to death to enable us to do so?” said Mrs.
Arundel, her affection for her son overcoming any feeling of anger which
his opposition to her pet scheme had excited.
“I do not see that the working need involve my death,” replied Lewis.
“Perhaps,” he added, with a smile, “you would prefer my embracing our
Lady Patroness’s scheme of a fourteen years’ sojourn in Norfolk Island.
I think I could accomplish that object without troubling anybody: I
have only to propitiate the Home Office by abstracting a few silver
spoons,--and Government, in its fatherly care, would send me there free
of expense, and probably introduce me to the best society the Island
affords, into the bargain.”
“Poor dear Lady Lombard! I must confess that part of her letter was
rather absurd,” returned Mrs. Arundel; “but we must talk more about this
plan of yours, Lewis; I never can consent to it.”
“You both can and will, my dear mother,” replied Lewis, playfully but
firmly; “however, we will leave this matter in abeyance till I hear from
Frere.”
And thus, peace being restored, they sat down to breakfast forthwith,
Lewis feeling thankful that he had restrained his anger ere it had led
him to say words to his mother which he would have regretted deeply
afterwards, and amply repaid for any effort it might have cost him by
the bright smile and grateful pressure of the hand with which his sister
rewarded him. Happy the man whose guardian angel assumes the form of
such a sister and friend as Rose Arundel!
Rachel was spared the trouble of calling her young master the following
morning, as, when that worthy woman, animated with the desperate courage
of the leader of a forlorn hope, approached his room, determined to have
him up in spite of any amount of the languages of modern Europe to which
she might be exposed, she found the door open and the bird flown;
the fact being that Lewis and Faust were taking a scamper across the
country, to their mutual delectation, and the alarming increase of their
respective appetites. Moreover, Faust, in his ignorance of the Game Laws
and the Zoology of the land of his adoption, would persist in looking
for a wolf in the preserves of Squire Tilbury, and while thus engaged
could not resist the temptation of killing a hare, just by way of
keeping his jaws in practice; owing to which little escapade he got his
master into a row with an underkeeper, who required first knocking down
and then propitiating by a half-sovereign before he could be brought to
see the matter in a reasonable light.
This gave a little interest and excitement to his morning ramble, and
Lewis returned to breakfast in a high state of health and spirits. A
letter from his friend Frere awaited his arrival; it ran as follows:--
“Dear Lewis,--If you really mean what you say (and you are not the man I
take you to be if you don’t), I know of just the thing to suit you. The
pay is above your mark, so that’s all right; and as to the work--well,
it has its disagreeables, that’s not to be gainsaid; but life is not
exactly a bed of roses--or, if it is, the thorns have got the start of
the flowers nine times out of ten, as you will know before long, if you
have not found it out already. In these sort of matters (not that you
know anything about the matter yet, but I do, which is all the same) it
is half the battle to be first in the field; _ergo_, if £300 a year will
suit your complaint, get on the top of the first coach that will bring
you to town, and be with me in time for dinner. I have asked a man to
meet you, who knows all about the thing I have in view for you. Pray
remember me to Mrs. Arundel and your sister, although I have not as
yet the pleasure of their personal acquaintance. Don’t get into the
dolefuls, and fancy yourself a victim; depend upon it, you are nothing
of the kind. Mutton on table at half-past six, and Faust is specially
invited to eat the bone.
“So good-bye till we meet.
“Yours for ever and a day,
“Richard Frere.”
“There!” said Lews, handing the epistle to his mother, “now that’s
something like a letter: Frere’s a thorough good fellow, every inch of
him, and a real true friend into the bargain. I’ll take whatever it is
he has found for me, if it is even to black shoes all day; you and Rose
shall remain here, and Lady Lombard may go to----”
“Three hundred a year! Why, my dear Lewis, it’s quite a little fortune
for you!” interrupted Mrs. Arundel delightedly.
“I wonder what the situation can be?” said Rose, regarding her brother
with a look of affection and regret, as she thought how his proud spirit
and sensitive nature unfitted him to contend with the calculating policy
and keen-eyed selfishness of worldly men. Rose had of late been her
father’s confidante, and even adviser, in some of his matters
of business, and had observed the tone of civil indifference or
condescending familiarity which the denizens of Vanity Fair assume
towards men of broken fortunes.
“Yes,” resumed Mrs. Arundel, “as you say, Rose, what can it be?
something in one of the Government offices, perhaps.”
“Curator of Madame Tussaud’s Exhibition, and Master of the Robes to the
waxwork figures, more likely,” replied Lewis, laughing. “Or what say
you to a civic appointment? Mace-bearer to the Lord Mayor, for instance;
though I believe it requires a seven years’ apprenticeship to eating
turtle soup and venison to entitle one to such an honour. Seriously,
though, if Frere wishes me to take it, I will, whatever it may be, after
all his kindness to me, and Faust too. Faust, _mein kind!_ here’s an
invitation for you, and a mutton bone in prospect--hold up your head, my
dog, you are come to honour.” And thus Lewis rattled on, partly because
the ray of sunshine that gleamed on his darkened fortunes had sufficed
to raise his naturally buoyant spirits, and partly to prevent the
possibility of his mother offering any effectual resistance to his
wish--or, more properly speaking, his resolution--to devote himself to
the one object of supporting her and Rose in their present position.
It was well for the success of his scheme that Mrs. Arundel had, on the
strength of the £300 per annum, allowed her imagination to depict some
distinguished appointment (of what nature she had not the most distant
notion), which, with innumerable prospective advantages, was about to be
submitted to her son’s consideration. Dazzled by this brilliant phantom,
she allowed herself to be persuaded to write a civil rejection of Lady
Lombard’s patronage, and took leave of her son with an April face, in
which, after a short struggle, the smiles had it all their own way.
Rose neither laughed nor cried, but she clung to her brother’s neck
(standing on tiptoe to do it, for she was so good, every bit of her,
that Nature could not afford to make a very tall woman out of such
precious materials), and whispered to him, in her sweet, silvery voice,
if he should not quite like this appointment, or if he ever for a
moment wished to change his plan, how very happy it would make her to be
allowed to go out and earn money by teaching, just for a few years, till
they grew richer; and Lewis pressed her to his heart, and loved her so
well for saying it, ay, and meaning it too, that he felt he would die
rather than let her do it. And so two people who cared for each other
more than for all the world beside, parted, having, after a three years’
separation, enjoyed each other’s society for two days. Not that
there was anything remarkable in this, it being a notorious though
inexplicable fact that the more we like people, the less we are certain
to see of them.
We have wearied our brain in the vain endeavour to find a reason for
this phenomenon, and should feel greatly indebted to any philosophical
individual who would write a treatise on “The perversity of remote
contingencies, and the aggravating nature of things in general,” whereby
some light might be thrown upon this obscure subject. We recommend the
matter more particularly to the notice of the British Association of
Science.
And having seated Lewis on the box of a real good old-fashioned stage
coach (alas! that, Dodo-like, the genus should be all but extinct, and
nothing going, nowadays, but those wonderful, horrible, convenient,
stupendous nuisances, railroads; rattling, with their “resonant
steam-eagles,” as Mrs. Browning calls the locomotives), with Faust
between his knees, apparently studying with the air of a connoisseur the
“get up” of a spanking team of greys, we will leave him to prosecute his
journey to London; reserving for another chapter the adventures which
befell him in the modern Babylon.