"Jacob, I'm so glad to see you, and I'm sorry that you were made to wait
below, but--if people who can be otherwise will be watermen, it is not
our fault. The servants only judge by appearances."
I felt annoyed for a moment, but it was soon over. I sat down by Sarah,
and talked with her for some time.
"The present I had to make you was a purse of my own knitting, to put
your earnings in;" said she, laughing; and then she held up her finger
in mockery, crying, "Boat, sir; boat, sir. Well, Jacob, there's nothing
like independence, after all, and you must not mind my laughing at you."
"I do not heed it, Sarah," replied I; (but I did mind it very much)
"there is no disgrace."
"None whatever, I grant; but a want of ambition, which I cannot
understand. However, let us say no more about it."
Mrs Drummond came into the room and greeted me kindly. "When can you
come and dine with us, Jacob? Will you come on Wednesday?"
"Oh, mamma! He can't come on Wednesday; we have company on that day."
"So we have, my dear; I had forgotten it; but on Thursday we are quite
alone: will you come, then on Thursday, Jacob?"
I hesitated, for I felt that it was because I was a waterman that I was
not admitted to the table where I had been accustomed to dine at one
time, whoever might be invited.
"Yes, Jacob," said Sarah, coming to me, "it must be Thursday, and you
must not deny us; for although we have greater people on Wednesday, the
party that day will not be so agreeable to me as your company on
Thursday."
The last compliment from Sarah decided me, and I accepted the
invitation. Mr Drummond came in, and I delivered to him Mr Turnbull's
cheque. He was very kind, but said little further than that he was glad
that I had promised to dine with them on Thursday. The footman came in
and announced the carriage at the door, and this was a signal for me to
take my leave. Sarah, as she shook hands with me, laughing, asserted
that it was not considerate in them to detain me any longer, as I must
have lost half-a-dozen good fares already; "So go down to your boat,
pull off your jacket, and make up for lost time," continued she; "one of
these days mamma and I intend to go on the water, just to patronise
you." I laughed and went away, but I was cruelly mortified. I could
not be equal to them, because I was a waterman. The sarcasm of Sarah
was not lost upon me; still there was so much kindness mixed with it
that I could not be angry with her. On the Thursday I went there, as
agreed; they were quite alone; friendly and attentive; but still there
was a degree of constraint which communicated itself to me. After
dinner Mr Drummond said very little; there was no renewal of offers to
take me into his employ, nor any inquiry as to how I got on in the
profession which I had chosen. On the whole, I found myself
uncomfortable, and was glad to leave early, nor did I feel at all
inclined to renew my visit. I ought to remark that Mr Drummond was now
moving in a very different sphere than when I first knew him. He was
consignee of several large establishments abroad, and was making a rapid
fortune. His establishment was also on a very different scale, every
department being appointed with elegance and conducive to luxury. As I
pulled up the river something within my breast told me that the
Dominie's prophecy would turn out correct, and that I should one day
repent of my having refused the advances of Mr Drummond--nay, I did not
exactly know whether I did not, even at that moment, very much doubt the
wisdom of my asserting my independence.
And now, reader, that I may not surfeit you with an uninteresting
detail, you may allow nearly two years to pass away before I recommence
my narrative. The events of that time I shall sum up in one or two
pages. The Dominie continued the even tenor of his way--blew his nose
and handled his rod with as much effect as ever. I seldom passed a
Sunday without paying him a visit, and benefiting by his counsel. Mr
Turnbull was always kind and considerate, but gradually declining in
health, having never recovered from the effects of his submersion under
the ice. Of the Drummonds I saw but little; when we did meet, I was
kindly received, but I never volunteered a call, and it was usually from
a message through Tom that I went to pay my respects. Sarah had grown a
very beautiful girl, and the well-known fact of Mr Drummond's wealth,
and her being an only daughter, was an introduction to a circle much
higher than they had been formerly accustomed to. Every day, therefore,
the disparity increased, and I felt less inclined to make my appearance
at their house.
Stapleton, as usual, continued to smoke his pipe and descant upon _human
natur'_. Mary had grown into a splendid woman, but coquettish as ever.
Poor Tom Beazeley was fairly entrapped by her charms, and was a constant
attendant upon her, but she played him fast and loose--one time
encouraging and smiling on him, at another rejecting and flouting him.
Still Tom persevered, for he was fascinated, and having returned me the
money advanced for his wherry, he expended all his earnings on dressing
himself smartly, and making presents to her. She had completely grown
out of any control from me, and appeared to have a pleasure in doing
everything she knew I disapproved; still, we were on fair friendly terms
as inmates of the same house.
Old Tom Beazeley's board was up, and he had met with great success; and
all day he might be seen hammering at the bottom of boats of every
description, and heard, at the same time, lightening his labour with his
variety of song. I often called there on my way up and down the river,
and occasionally passed a few hours listening to his yarns, which, like
his songs, appeared to be inexhaustible.
With respect to myself, it would be more a narrative of feelings than of
action. My life glided on as did my wherry--silently and rapidly. One
day was but the forerunner of another, with slight variety of incident
and customers. My acquaintance, as the reader knows, were but few, and
my visits occasional. I again turned to my books during the long summer
evenings, in which Mary would walk out, accompanied by Tom and other
admirers. Mr Turnbull's library was at my service, and I profited
much. After a time reading became almost a passion, and I was seldom
without a book in my hand. But although I improved my mind, I did not
render myself happier. On the contrary, I felt more and more that I had
committed an act of egregious folly in thus asserting my independence.
I felt that I was superior to my station in life, and that I had lived
with those who were not companions--that I had thrown away, by foolish
pride, those prospects of advancement which had offered themselves, and
that I was passing my youth unprofitably. All this crowded upon me more
and more every day, and I bitterly repented, as the Dominie told me that
I should, my spirit of independence--now that it was too late. The
offers of Mr Drummond were never renewed, and Mr Turnbull, who had
formed the idea that I was still of the same opinion, and who, at the
same time, in his afflicted state--for he was a martyr to the
rheumatism--naturally thought more of himself and less of others, never
again proposed that I should quit my employment. I was still too proud
to mention my wishes, and thus did I continue plying on the river,
apathetic almost as to gain, and only happy when, in the pages of
history or among the flowers of poetry, I could dwell upon times that
were past, or revel in imagination. Thus did reading, like the snake
which is said to contain in its body a remedy for the poison of its
fangs, become, as it enlarged my mind, a source of discontent at my
humble situation; but, at the same time, the only solace in my
unhappiness, by diverting my thoughts from the present. Pass, then,
nearly two years, reader, taking the above remarks as an outline, and
filling up the picture from the colours of your imagination, with
incidents of no peculiar value, and I again resume my narrative.