A GRATEFUL MIND
The news of the abduction, you may be sure, formed, next day, the only
topic of talk in the pump room and the gardens. There are many rumours
and reports. Mr. Rising was allowed to be a villain of the deepest
dye. He was also allowed to be a gentleman of the greatest courage and
resolution. The duel was described with such embroideries and
additions as the feminine imagination could invent. Lord Fylingdale
was desperately wounded; no, only slightly wounded; no, he was not
touched. Mr. Rising was brought home dead, in a pool of blood; no, he
was wounded and not expected to live; and so on. He lay, indeed, at
his lodgings in a fever, which held him for some days; but being young
and strong, and in good health, except that his habit of drinking had
inflamed his blood, he recovered, and, as you shall presently learn,
escaped from certain toils and snares that had been laid with skill,
and were promising success.
I am sorry to say that the opinion of the ladies remained adverse to
Molly. It was universally acknowledged that she was a forward minx;
that she ought to have known her place; that, had she not given
encouragement, Mr. Rising could never have attempted his rash
adventure. "She wants to marry a gentleman. Naturally; she thinks that
money will buy anything. What is the good of having all these fine
things--if, indeed, they are hers--if she is to marry in her own
class, a quill driver, a shopkeeper, a tarpauling? As everybody knows,
Mr. Rising is a gentleman of good family and good estate; could she
look higher? She ought to feel honoured at being carried away by a
gentleman. As for any rumour, connecting her with Lord Fylingdale, one
would be sorry for the poor wench if that was true, because nothing
could be more impossible. Yet the ambition of a girl ignorant of the
world may soar to heights incredible, like the soap bubble, only to
burst, or the sky-rocket, only to fall ignobly to the ground. It is
not likely that his lordship, said to be so fastidious, would bestow a
serious thought upon the girl, save as representing the town of Lynn."
And so on ... with whispers from one to the other at morning prayers,
and louder talk in the pump room, and at the confectioner's and in the
gardens.
Meantime, the captain made haste to wait upon his lordship, in order
to thank him more formally than in the turmoil and agitation of the
evening had been possible.
"Captain Crowle," said his lordship, "there needs no thanks. The
honour of the spa--of the company--was at stake. Could we look on
unmoved when such a crime was committed under our very eyes? Sir,
there were with me, as you saw, half-a-dozen gallant gentlemen, all
pledged to take my place should I fall. Their swords were as much at
the service of insulted virtue as my own."
"You fought a desperate man, my lord. Had you lost hand or eye for a
moment, you would now be dead."
"Captain, I do not lose my eye nor my hand. Nevertheless, to die for
the honour of such a woman as Miss Molly should be happiness enough
for any man."
Said I not that the abduction was the very best thing that could
possibly happen to Lord Fylingdale? Whether he understood the
captain's ambitions as regards himself, or not, I cannot say. We know,
however, that the old man aimed at nothing short of a great alliance
for his ward, a dream that was justified by the noble fortune which
would go with her. Lord Fylingdale knew, besides, that he himself had
made a most favourable impression upon this simple sailor, who
believed everything that he was told. And now, by the rescue of the
girl, he had not only raised himself still higher in the estimation of
the captain, but he stood before Molly as a hero and a fearless
avenger of insult and violence. Nothing could have been more
fortunate.
"Sir," he added, "if you will carry me to Miss Molly herself, I would
offer her my congratulations on the happy ending of her adventure. She
is perhaps overcome by the terrors of the night."
"Molly felt no terrors. She had a knife in her hand which might have
proved more formidable to the young man than your lordship's sword.
But if you will honour my humble house, both Molly and I shall be
still more grateful."
Molly was in the kitchen making a beefsteak pie, with her sleeves
rolled up and her apron on. "Shall I go to my lord as I am?" she said.
"Let me wash my hands and roll down the sleeves at least."
She presented herself, therefore, in her plain morning dress, that in
which she performed her domestic work. Perhaps she showed to greater
advantage thus than in her silks and jewels.
"Miss Molly, your obedient servant." His lordship bowed as low as if
he was addressing a countess at least. "I have ventured to inquire
after your health. Last night's adventure may have proved too great a
shock."
"I am quite well, my lord, thanks to your bravery and your generosity,
which I can never forget--never--not even if I wished to forget."
"Never," said the captain.
"Whenever I hear of a brave man I shall think of your lordship, and
whenever I think of a gallant fight, it will be your lordship
fighting."
"You think too highly of a simple affair, Miss Molly. Nevertheless, I
am proud to have been of service to you."
"At least we must continue grateful, because we have nothing that we
can do in return."
"I am not so sure of that." He smiled kindly. "We shall see. Meantime,
Miss Molly, there is one thing which you might do to please me."
"Oh, what is that?"
"You wore at your first appearance a large quantity of gold chains and
precious stones. I am curious about such gauds. Will you allow me to
see your treasures?"
It was an unexpected favour to ask. Molly laughed, however, and ran to
fetch the box. She poured out the whole of the glittering contents
upon the table. "There, my lord, and if I could venture to offer any
of these things that would please you."
He laughed. "You are kindness itself, Miss Molly. But I am not a lady,
and jewels are of no use to me. I have, however, at my poor house in
Gloucestershire, my family jewels. Let me look at yours."
He sat down and began to examine them closely. Apparently he
understood jewels. It was as if he apprised their value. He placed
some on one side; some on the other. "This," he said, "is a diamond of
the first water. Keep it very carefully. This has a slight flaw, yet,
with more careful cutting, it might become a valuable stone. This
chain is fashioned by an Indian workman. None but an Indian can make a
chain so fine and so delicate. See, it is no thicker than a piece of
twine, and yet how careful and how intricate the workmanship! The
man's fingers must have been more delicate than our craftsmen can
imagine." And so on through the whole of the treasure. "Well, Miss
Molly," he said, "there are few ladies, indeed, even of the highest
rank, who can show so good a collection. I congratulate you with all
my heart. Some day, I hope to see you at court wearing these jewels
and bearing--who knows?--a name as honourable as these are precious."
"Your lordship always encourages," said the captain. "You hear, Molly?
At court and bearing an honourable name."
She blushed and gathered up her treasures.
Her visitor looked round the room. It was the parlour. The homely
appearance of the room, plainly furnished, as might be expected of a
man in the captain's position, was strangely inconsistent with the
mass of treasure which he had just examined. The plain linsey woolsey
of the girl who owned the treasure was also out of proportion, so to
speak, for he understood that this glittering pile of jewels
represented a vast sum of money, and that the girl was far richer than
the poet knew or even the captain guessed. At the mere thought of
getting possession of this treasure his blood quickened; but he
remained, to all appearance, save for a slight and unwonted colour in
his cheek, unmoved. I have never heard, nor can I guess, the value of
these jewels, save that they were worth many thousands.
"These jewels," he said, coldly, "should belong to a great lady. They
deserve to be seen. They are thrown away, save as portable property,
unless they can be used to grace the court. However, ... let me hope
that they will not be thrown away. I think, Miss Molly, that your
mother lives with you in this house. Perhaps this treasure is hers--or
is it all your own?"
The captain made answer. "Molly's mother has no share. A modest sum of
money, sufficient for her needs, is paid her out of the estate. The
rest--all the rest belongs to Molly."
"Truly she is first favourite with Dame Fortune, who, I hope, will not
turn her wheel. Miss Molly, will you present me to madam, your
mother?"
"With all my heart; but my lord, my mother is not used to being called
madam." So saying, Molly retired to the kitchen, and presently
returned, bringing her mother with her. She came in red faced from
stooping over the kitchen fire, wiping her fingers, which she had
hurriedly washed, on her apron, wearing at her side her great
housekeeper's pocket, in which she carried a vast quantity of things
necessary, useful, and handy, such as scissors, pins, a needle-case,
the nutmeg grater, a corkscrew, a few weights, a thread paper, a yard
measure, stockings to be darned, a ball of twine, a skein or two of
silk, ends of ribbon, fragments and rags of cloth, lint for wounds, a
box of goose fat for ointment, and many other articles indispensable
for the complete housewife. Jennifer Miller, Molly's mother, was
indeed a homely body, low in stature, inclined to stoutness, somewhat
short of breath, and, in appearance, exactly what she was in fact,
namely, a woman whose whole delight and study was in housewifery. When
she was young I have heard that she possessed some share of beauty, as
a rosy cheek, red lips, bright eyes, and so forth. But her daughter
took after the father, who was a tall and proper man, as those testify
who knew him.
His lordship treated her with the respect due to a great lady, bowing
as low to her as he had done to Molly.
"Madam, I come to congratulate you on the escape of your daughter.
'Twas providential."
"With your help, sir. Oh! I know a gentleman's modesty. Well, sir--my
lord, I mean--we are humble folk, but I hope we know how to be
grateful. I said to Molly this morning: 'Look out,' I said, 'among
your fine trinkets the very finest thing you've got, and take it
yourself with your humble respects to his lordship,' and I would have
sent with it some of my last year's ginger cordial to warm the
stomach. I warrant it is poor stuff that they give you. Servants don't
give their minds to cordials. But Molly wouldn't go. She was never one
of your shy and shamefaced girls, neither. 'Go and thank his honour,
do,' I said to her, 'What will he think of your manners? Don't leave
it to the captain. Go yourself.' That's what I said."
"Indeed, madam, Miss Molly has already thanked me more than enough. I
am most fortunate in being of some service to her."
"John," the good lady added, "where are your manners, pray? His honour
has nothing to drink. A glass of home-brewed, now, or a little of my
ginger cordial? Unless you will take a bottle home with you. Or a
glass of Lisbon? We are not so poor as to miss it."
"Nothing, madam, nothing, I assure you." So saying, his lordship, with
his most profound bow, quitted the room and the house.
His mind was now made up. There was no longer any doubt possible as to
the girl's great fortune. He had satisfied himself in every
particular. He knew the value of her fleet, and the income of her
business. He now knew the value of her jewels. He would make the girl
his wife, provided he could do it without the settlement of her
fortune upon herself. There must be no settlement.
What he proposed to do with her after his marriage I do not know.
Perhaps he would send her to his country house, from which he had
already sold the furniture, the pictures, the books, and everything.
It stood, I have been told, in a desert, which had once been a lovely
wood. But the wood was felled, and only the stumps were left. There
were gardens around, but they had gone to wrack and ruin. The farmers,
his tenants, paid their rent to the lawyers; his name was a by-word
and a proverb in his own county for mad gambling, for raking, and
ungodly living. I say that he might have proposed to take her to this
deserted spot, and to leave her there. Or he might have taken her to
London, there to associate with I know not what kind of women or what
kind of men. It is certain, however, that no good woman and no honest
man would consort with the wife of the Earl of Fylingdale. He walked
away, however, his mind made up. He would marry the girl if he could
get her without settlements. And as he thought of that treasury of
precious stones, his unholy heart glowed within him.
Molly went back to the kitchen and resumed the making of the beefsteak
pie.
"John," said her mother, "does that young man mean anything?"
"He gives me advice. He knows my design as regards Molly. He is a very
virtuous young gentleman, as well as courageous."
"John, do nothing hastily. He did not look at Molly in a way--well, I
can remember--what I call a hungry way. Take care, John. Perhaps he
only wants her money."
"Why, Jennifer, he is the most fastidious man in the world. Do you
think he can be taken with Molly?"
"Try him. Offer him Molly without a farthing. He would turn away. I am
sure he would, John. I know what a lover's looks should be. Offer him
Molly with her fortune. Ah! then you shall see. John, do nothing rash.
Remember, Molly is ignorant of gentlefolk and their ways. I've heard
of their ways. Molly is like me; she will expect the whole of her
husband, not a part of him."
"Don't I tell the woman that he is a man of the nicest honour?"
"You say so. How do you know, John?"
"Did he not rescue the girl at the risk of his own life? Why,
Jennifer, what more do you ask?"
"Ay. That he did. Perhaps he was not willing to let her fortune go to
some other man. Molly is worth fighting for. Well, if he means
something, why did he go on board the dirty ship with you--and he so
fine? Why was he so anxious to know what the girl has in ships and
things? Why did he ask to see her jewels if it was not to find out
what they are worth? I tell you, John, I could see in his eyes what he
was thinking about."
"Ay, ay; trust a woman for seeing into a millstone."
"He was thinking 'Is she worth it?' And he was calculating how it all
mounted up. Oh! I saw it in his eyes. John, be very careful. If she is
taken from us let her go to a man who will make her happy and then I
will bear it. But not among them that drink and gamble, nor make a
woman mad with jealousy and sick with fear. John, John, be very
careful with that man."