Thames Darrell's arm having been submitted to the scrutiny of Mrs.
Wood, was pronounced by that lady to be very much sprained; and she,
forthwith, proceeded to bathe it with a reddish-coloured lotion.
During this operation, the carpenter underwent a severe catechism
as to the cause of the accident; and, on learning that the mischance
originated with Jack Sheppard, the indignation of his helpmate knew
no bounds; and she was with difficulty prevented from flying to the
workshop to inflict summary punishment on the offender.
“I knew how it would be,” she cried, in the shrill voice peculiar to
a shrew, “when you brought that worthless hussy's worthless brat
into the house. I told you no good would come of it. And every day's
experience proves that I was right. But, like all your overbearing
sex, you must have your own way. You'll never be guided by
me--never!”
“Indeed, my love, you're entirely mistaken,” returned the carpenter,
endeavouring to deprecate his wife's rising resentment by the softest
looks, and the meekest deportment.
So far, however, was this submission from producing the desired
effect, that it seemed only to lend additional fuel to her
displeasure. Forgetting her occupation in her anger, she left off
bathing Darrell's wrist; and, squeezing his arm so tightly that the
boy winced with pain, she clapped her right hand upon her hip, and
turned, with flashing eyes and an inflamed countenance, towards her
crest-fallen spouse.
“What!” she exclaimed, almost choked with passion,--“_I_ advised you
to burthen yourself with that idle and good-for-nothing pauper, who'm
you ought rather to send to the workhouse than maintain at your own
expense, did I! _I_ advised you to take him as an apprentice; and, so
far from getting the regular fee with him, to give him a salary?
_I_ advised you to feed him, and clothe him, and treat him like his
betters; to put up with his insolence, and wink at his faults? _I_
counselled all this, I suppose. You'll tell me next, I dare say, that
I recommended you to go and visit his mother so frequently under
the plea of charity; to give her wine, and provisions, and money; to
remove her from the only fit quarters for such people--the Mint; and
to place her in a cottage at Willesden, of which you must needs pay
the rent? Marry, come up! charity should begin at home. A discreet
husband would leave the dispensation of his bounty, where women
are concerned, to his wife. And for my part, if I were inclined to
exercise my benevolence at all, it should be in favour of some more
deserving object than that whining, hypocritical Magdalene.”
“It was the knowledge of this feeling on your part, my love, that
made me act without your express sanction. I did all for the best,
I'm sure. Mrs. Sheppard is--”
“I know what Mrs. Sheppard is, without your information, Sir. I
haven't forgotten her previous history. You've your own reasons, no
doubt, for bringing up her son--perhaps, I ought rather to say _your_
son, Mr. Wood.”
“Really, my love, these accusations are most groundless--this
violence is most unnecessary.”
“I can't endure the odious baggage. I hope I may never come near
her.”
“I hope you never may, my love,” humbly acquiesced the carpenter.
“Is my house to be made a receptacle for all your natural children,
Sir? Answer me that.”
“Winny,” said Thames, whose glowing cheek attested the effect
produced upon him by the insinuation; “Winny,” said he, addressing
a pretty little damsel of some twelve years of age, who stood by his
side holding the bottle of embrocation, “help me on with my coat,
please. This is no place for me.”
“Sit down, my dear, sit down,” interposed Mrs. Wood, softening her
asperity. “What I said about natural children doesn't apply to _you_.
Don't suppose,” she added, with a scornful glance at her helpmate,
“that I would pay him the compliment of thinking he could possibly be
the father of such a boy as you.”
Mr. Wood lifted up his hands in mute despair.
“Owen, Owen,” pursued Mrs. Wood, sinking into a chair, and fanning
herself violently,--“what a fluster you have put me into with your
violence, to be sure! And at the very time, too, when you know I'm
expecting a visit from Mr. Kneebone, on his return from Manchester.
I wouldn't have him see me in this state for the world. He'd never
forgive you.”
“Poh, poh, my dear! Mr. Kneebone invariably takes part with me, when
any trifling misunderstanding arises between us. I only wish he was
not a Papist and a Jacobite.”
“Jacobite!” echoed Mrs. Wood. “Marry, come up! Mightn't he just as
reasonably complain of your being a Hanoverian and a Presbyterian?
It's all matter of opinion. And now, my love,” she added, with a
relenting look, “I'm content to make up our quarrel. But you must
promise me not to go near that abandoned hussy at Willesden. One
can't help being jealous, you know, even of an unworthy object.”
Glad to make peace on any terms, Mr. Wood gave the required promise,
though he could not help thinking that if either of them had cause to
be jealous he was the party.
And here, we may be permitted to offer an observation upon the
peculiar and unaccountable influence which ladies of a shrewish
turn so frequently exercise over--we can scarcely, in this case,
say--their lords and masters; an influence which seems not merely to
extend to the will of the husband, but even to his inclinations. We
do not remember to have met with a single individual, reported to be
under petticoat government, who was not content with his lot,--nay,
who so far from repining, did not exult in his servitude; and we see
no way of accounting for this apparently inexplicable conduct--for
which, among other phenomena of married life, various reasons have
been assigned, though none entirely satisfactory to us--except
upon the ground that these domineering dames possess some charm
sufficiently strong to counteract the irritating effect of their
tempers; some secret and attractive quality of which the world at
large is in ignorance, and with which their husbands alone can be
supposed to be acquainted. An influence of this description appeared
to be exerted on the present occasion. The worthy carpenter was
restored to instant good humour by a glance from his helpmate; and,
notwithstanding the infliction he had just endured, he would have
quarrelled with any one who had endeavoured to persuade him that he
was not the happiest of men, and Mrs. Wood the best of wives.
“Women must have their wills while they live, since they can make
none when they die,” observed Wood, as he imprinted a kiss of
reconciliation on the plump hand of his consort;--a sentiment to
the correctness of which the party chiefly interested graciously
vouchsafed her assent.
Lest the carpenter should be taxed with too much uxoriousness, it
behoves us to ascertain whether the personal attractions of his
helpmate would, in any degree, justify the devotion he displayed. In
the first place, Mrs. Wood had the advantage of her husband in point
of years, being on the sunny side of forty,--a period pronounced by
competent judges to be the most fascinating, and, at the same time,
most critical epoch of woman's existence,--whereas, he was on the
shady side of fifty,--a term of life not generally conceived to have
any special recommendation in female eyes. In the next place, she
really had some pretensions to beauty. Accounted extremely pretty
in her youth, her features and person expanded as she grew older,
without much detriment to their original comeliness. Hers was beauty
on a large scale no doubt; but it was beauty, nevertheless: and the
carpenter thought her eyes as bright, her complexion as blooming, and
her figure (if a little more buxom) quite as captivating as when he
led her to the altar some twenty years ago.
On the present occasion, in anticipation of Mr. Kneebone's visit,
Mrs. Wood was dressed with more than ordinary care, and in more than
ordinary finery. A dove-coloured kincob gown, embroidered with large
trees, and made very low in front, displayed to the greatest
possible advantage, the rounded proportions of her figure; while a
high-heeled, red-leather shoe did not detract from the symmetry of
a very neat ankle, and a very small foot. A stomacher, fastened by
imitation-diamond buckles, girded that part of her person, which
should have been a waist; a coral necklace encircled her throat, and
a few black patches, or mouches, as they were termed, served as a
foil to the bloom of her cheek and chin. Upon a table, where they had
been hastily deposited, on the intelligence of Darrell's accident,
lay a pair of pink kid gloves, bordered with lace, and an enormous
fan; the latter, when opened, represented the metamorphosis and
death of Actæon. From her stomacher, to which it was attached by
a multitude of glittering steel chains, depended an immense
turnip-shaped watch, in a pinchbeck case. Her hair was gathered up
behind, in a sort of pad, according to the then prevailing mode; and
she wore a muslin cap, and pinners with crow-foot edging. A black
silk fur-belowed scarf covered her shoulders; and over the kincob
gown hung a yellow satin apron, trimmed with white Persian.
But, in spite of her attractions, we shall address ourselves to the
younger, and more interesting couple.
“I could almost find in my heart to quarrel with Jack Sheppard for
occasioning you so much pain,” observed little Winifred Wood, as,
having completed her ministration to the best of her ability, she
helped Thames on with his coat.
“I don't think you could find in your heart to quarrel with any one,
Winny; much less with a person whom I like so much as Jack Sheppard.
My arm's nearly well again. And I've already told you the accident
was not Jack's fault. So, let's think no more about it.”
“It's strange you should like Jack so much dear Thames. He doesn't
resemble you at all.”
“The very reason why I like him, Winny. If he _did_ resemble me, I
shouldn't care about him. And, whatever you may think, I assure you,
Jack's a downright good-natured fellow.”
Good-natured fellows are always especial favourites with boys. And,
in applying the term to his friend, Thames meant to pay him a high
compliment. And so Winifred understood him.
“Well,” she said, in reply, “I may have done Jack an injustice. I'll
try to think better of him in future.”
“And, if you want an additional inducement to do so, I can tell you
there's no one--not even his mother--whom he loves so well as you.”
“Loves!” echoed Winifred, slightly colouring.
“Yes, loves, Winny. Poor fellow! he sometimes indulges the hope of
marrying you, when he grows old enough.”
“Thames!”
“Have I said anything to offend you?”
“Oh! no. But if you wouldn't have me positively dislike Jack
Sheppard, you'll never mention such a subject again. Besides,” she
added, blushing yet more deeply, “it isn't a proper one to talk
upon.”
“Well then, to change it,” replied Thames, gravely, “suppose I should
be obliged to leave you.”
Winifred looked as if she could not indulge such a supposition for a
single moment.
“Surely,” she said, after a pause, “you don't attach any importance
to what my mother has just said. _She_ has already forgotten it.”
“But _I_ never can forget it, Winny. I will no longer be a burthen to
those upon whom I have no claim, but compassion.”
As he said this, in a low and mournful, but firm voice, the tears
gathered thickly in Winifred's dark eyelashes.
“If you are in earnest, Thames,” she replied, with a look of gentle
reproach, “you are very foolish; and, if in jest, very cruel. My
mother, I'm sure, didn't intend to hurt your feelings. She loves
you too well for that. And I'll answer for it, she'll never say a
syllable to annoy you again.”
Thames tried to answer her, but his voice failed him.
“Come! I see the storm has blown over,” cried Winifred, brightening
up.
“You're mistaken, Winny. Nothing can alter my determination. I shall
quit this roof to-morrow.”
The little girl's countenance fell.
“Do nothing without consulting my father--_your_ father, Thames,” she
implored. “Promise me that.”
“Willingly. And what's more, I promise to abide by his decision.”
“Then, I'm quite easy,” cried Winifred, joyfully.
“I'm sure he won't attempt to prevent me,” rejoined Thames.
The slight smile that played upon Winifred's lips seemed to say that
_she_ was not quite so sure. But she made no answer.
“In case he should consent--”
“He never will,” interrupted Winifred.
“In case he _should_, I say,” continued Thames, “will _you_ promise
to let Jack Sheppard take my place in your affections, Winny?”
“Never!” replied the little damsel, “I can never love any one so much
as you.”
“Excepting your father.”
Winifred was going to say “No,” but she checked herself; and, with
cheeks mantling with blushes, murmured, “I wish you wouldn't tease me
about Jack Sheppard.”
The foregoing conversation, having been conducted throughout in a low
tone, and apart, had not reached the ears of Mr. and Mrs. Wood, who
were, furthermore, engaged in a little conjugal _tête-à-tête_ of
their own. The last observation, however, caught the attention of the
carpenter's wife.
“What's that you're saying about Jack Sheppard?” she cried.
“Thames was just observing--”
“Thames!” echoed Mrs. Wood, glancing angrily at her husband. “There's
another instance of your wilfulness and want of taste. Who but _you_
would have dreamed of giving the boy such a name? Why, it's the name
of a river, not a Christian. No gentleman was ever called Thames, and
Darrell _is_ a gentleman, unless the whole story of his being found
in the river is a fabrication!”
“My dear, you forget--”
“No, Mr. Wood, I forget nothing. I've an excellent memory, thank
God! And I perfectly remember that everybody was drowned upon that
occasion--except yourself and the child!”
“My love you're beside yourself--”
“I was beside myself to take charge of your--”
“Mother?” interposed Winifred.
“It's of no use,” observed Thames quietly, but with a look that
chilled the little damsel's heart;--“my resolution is taken.”
“You at least appear to forget that Mr. Kneebone is coming, my dear,”
ventured Mr. Wood.
“Good gracious! so I do,” exclaimed his amiable consort. “But you
_do_ agitate me so much. Come into the parlour, Winifred, and dry
your eyes directly, or I'll send you to bed. Mr. Wood, I desire
you'll put on your best things, and join us as soon as possible.
Thames, you needn't tidy yourself, as you've hurt your arm. Mr.
Kneebone will excuse you. Dear me! if there isn't his knock. Oh! I'm
in such a fluster!”
Upon which, she snatched up her fan, cast a look into the glass,
smoothed down her scarf, threw a soft expression into her features,
and led the way into the next room, whither she was followed by her
daughter and Thames Darrell.