I REPAIR THE DAMAGE, AND MAKE THINGS WORSE--PLOT AND COUNTERPLOT--TIM
GAINS A WATCH BY SETTING WATCH UPON HIS TONGUE.
I hardly knew how to act--if I called the servants, my interview would
be at an end, and I was resolved to find out the truth--for the same
reason, I did not like to ring for water. Some vases with flowers were
on the table; I took out the flowers, and threw the water in her face,
but they had been in the water some time, and had discoloured it green.
Her ladyship's dress was a high silk gown, of a bright slate colour, and
was immediately spoiled; but this was no time to stand upon trifles. I
seized hold of a glass bottle, fancying, in my hurry, it was _eau de
cologne_, or some essence, and poured a little into her mouth;
unfortunately, it was a bottle of marking ink, which her ladyship, who
was very economical, had on the table in disguise. I perceived my
error, and had recourse to another vase of flowers, pouring a large
quantity of the green water down her throat. Whether the unusual
remedies had an effect, or not, I cannot tell, but her ladyship
gradually revived, and, as she leant back on the sofa, sobbing every now
and then, convulsively, I poured into her ear a thousand apologies,
until I thought she was composed enough to listen to me.
"Your ladyship's maternal feelings," said I.
"It's all a calumny! a base lie, sir!" shrieked she.
"Nay, nay, why be ashamed of a youthful passion; why deny what was in
itself creditable to your unsophisticated mind. Does not your heart,
even now, yearn to embrace your son--will not you bless me, if I bring
him to your feet--will not you bless your son, and receive him with
delight?"
"It was a girl," screamed her ladyship, forgetting herself, and again
falling into hysterics.
"A girl!" replied I; "then I have lost my time, and it is no use my
remaining here."
Mortified at the intelligence which overthrew my hopes and castle
buildings, I seized my hat, descended the stairs, and quitted the house;
in my hurry and confusion quite forgetting to call the servants to her
ladyship's assistance. Fortunately I perceived the Misses Fairfax close
to the iron railing of the garden. I crossed the road, wished them
good-bye, and told them that I thought Lady Maelstrom looked very ill,
and they had better go in to her. I then threw myself into the first
hackney-coach, and drove home. I found Timothy had arrived before me,
and I narrated all that had passed.
"You will never be able to go there again," observed Timothy, "and
depend upon it, she will be your enemy through life. I wish you had not
said anything to her."
"What is done cannot be undone; but recollect, that if she can talk, I
can talk also."
"Will she not be afraid?"
"Yes, openly, she will; and open attacks can be parried."
"Very true."
"But it will be as well to pacify her, if I can. I will write to her."
I sat down and wrote as follows:--
"My dear Lady Maelstrom,--I am so astonished and alarmed at the
situation I put you in, by my impertinence and folly, that I hardly
know how to apologise. The fact is, that looking over some of my
father's old letters, I found many from Warrender, in which he spoke
of an affair with a young lady, and I read the name as your maiden
name, and also discovered where the offspring was to be found. On
re-examination, for your innocence was too evident at our meeting to
admit of a doubt, I find that the name, although something like yours,
is _spelt very differently_, and that I must have been led into an
unpardonable error. What can I say except that I throw myself on your
mercy? I dare not appear before you again. I leave town to-morrow;
but if you can pardon my folly and impertinence, and allow me to pay
my respects when London is full again, and time shall have softened
down your just anger, write me one line to that effect, and you will
relieve the burdened conscience of--
"Yours most truly,--
"J. Newland."
"There, Tim," said I, as I finished reading it over, "take that as a sop
to the old Cerberus. She may think it prudent, as I have talked of
letters, to believe me and make friends. I will not trust her,
nevertheless."
Tim went away, and very soon returned with an answer.
"You are a foolish mad-cap, and I ought to shut my doors against you;
you have half killed me--spoilt my gown, and I am obliged to keep my
bed. Remember, in future, to be sure of the right name before you
make an assertion. As for forgiving you, I shall think of it, and
when you return to town, you may call and receive my sentence.
Cecilia was quite frightened, poor dear girl: what a dear affectionate
child she is!--she is a treasure to me, and I don't think I ever could
part with her. She sends her regards.
"Yours,--
"C. Maelstrom."
"Come, Timothy, at all events this is better than I expected--but now
I'll tell you what I propose to do. Harcourt was with me yesterday, and
he wishes me to go down with him to --. There will be the assizes, and
the county ball, and a great deal of gaiety, and I have an idea that it
is just as well to beat the county as the town. I dine with Mr
Masterton on Friday. On Saturday I will go down and see Fleta, and on
Tuesday or Wednesday I will start with Harcourt to his father's, where
he has promised me a hearty welcome. Was there anything at Coleman
Street?"
"Yes, sir; Mr Iving said that he had just received a letter from your
correspondent, and that he wished to know if the little girl was well; I
told him that she was. Mr Iving laid the letter down on the desk, and
I read the post-mark, Dublin."
"Dublin," replied I. "I should like to find out who Melchior is--and so
I will as soon as I can."
"Well, sir, I have not finished my story. Mr Iving said, `My
correspondent wishes to know whether the education of the little girl is
attended to?' `Yes,' replied I, `it is.' `Is she at school?' `Yes,
she has been at school ever since we have been in London.' `Where is
she at school?' inquired he. Now, sir, as I never was asked that
question by him before, I did not know whether I ought to give an
answer, so I replied, `that I did not know.' `You know whether she is
in London or not, do you not?' `How should I?' replied I, `master had
put her to school before I put on his liveries.' `Does he never go to
see her?' inquired he. `I suppose so,' said I. `Then you really know
nothing about it?--then look you, my lad, I am anxious to find out where
she is at school, and the name of the people, and if you will find out
the direction for me, it will be money in your pocket, that's all.'
`Um,' replied I, `but how much?' `Why, more than you think for, my man,
it will be a ten-pound note.' `That alters the case,' replied I; `now I
think again, I have an idea that I do remember seeing her address on a
letter my master wrote to her.' `Ay,' replied Mr Iving, `it's
astonishing how money sharpens the memory. I'll keep to my bargain;
give me the address, and here's the ten-pound note.' `I'm afraid that
my master will be angry,' said I, as if I did not much like to tell him.
`Your master will never know anything about it, and you may serve a
long time before he gives you a ten-pound note above your wages.'
`That's very true,' said I, `sarvice is no inheritance. Well, then,
give me the money, and I'll write it down.'"
"And did you give it?" interrupted I.
"Stop a moment, sir, and you shall hear. I wrote down the address of
that large school at Kensington, which we pass when we go to Mr Aubrey
White's."
"What that tremendous large board with yellow letters--Mrs Let--what is
it?"
"Mrs Lipscombe's seminary--I always read the board every time I go up
and down. I gave him the address, Miss Johnson, at Mrs Lipscombe's
seminary, Kensington. Well--and here's the ten-pound note, sir, which I
have fairly earned."
"Fairly earned, Tim?"
"Yes, fairly earned; for it's all fair to cheat those who would cheat
you."
"I cannot altogether agree with you on that point, Tim, but it certainly
is no more than they deserve; but this is matter for reflection. Why
should Melchior wish to find out her address without my knowledge?--
depend upon it, there is something wrong."
"That's what I said to myself coming home; and I made up my mind, that,
for some reason or another, he wishes to regain possession of her."
"I entertain the same idea, Timothy, and I am glad you have disappointed
him. I will take care that they shall not find her out, now that I am
upon my guard."
"But, sir, I wish to draw one good moral from this circumstance; which
is, that if you had been served by any common footman, your interest
would, in all probability, have been sacrificed to the ten-pound note;
and that not only in this instance, but in many others, I did a very
wise thing in taking my present situation."
"I am but too well aware of that, Tim, my dear fellow," said I,
extending my hand, "and depend upon it, that if I rise, you do. You
know me well enough by this time."
"Yes, I do, Japhet, and had rather serve you than the first nobleman in
the land. I'm going to purchase a watch with this ten-pound note, and I
never shall look at it without remembering the advantage of keeping a
watch over my tongue."