OF THE TERRIBLE GOINGS-ON OF MY FIRST MAID, AND WHOM WE ALL
EXPECTED WOULD HAVE TURNED OUT SUCH A “TREASURE.”
“In this bosom what anguish, what hope, and what fear
I endure for my beautiful maid.
In vain I seek pleasure to lighten my grief,
Or quit the gay throng for the shade;
Nor retirement nor solitude yields me relief,
When I think of my beautiful maid.”
BRAHAM’S “_Beautiful Maid._”
We quitted Brighton by the stage, and had a delightful drive up as far
as Tooting, where we left the coach, and stopped to rest ourselves a
short time, as dear Edward was fearful lest I should over-fatigue myself
by going through the entire journey at once; after which we ordered a
post-chaise, and drove up to our house in great style.
As the equipage rattled up Alb--ny St--t, I could not help having a
pleasing vision of the prolonged happiness which I now fancied was
within arm’s reach of me, (if the courteous reader will allow me the
expression.) When we got to our pretty little cottage orné, and I saw
the establishment of which I was to be the future mistress, I felt _so_
honestly proud, _so_ truly gratified, _so_ charmed with the new duties
that it had pleased Providence to impose upon me--even though I was
rather knocked up with our journey--that I now began to feel myself
quite another thing.
It was extremely curious to see the heads of our new neighbours peeping
over the blinds of their parlour windows, as our post-chaise dashed up,
with lighted lamps, to our door, while the boy thundered at the knocker.
I believe this trifling circumstance tickled my girlish vanity at the
moment; but I’m sure my courteous readers will think the feeling very
excusable, when they recollect I was as yet but a young bride.
I was greatly alarmed, and not a little surprised, to find the door
answered by my dear mamma; for I was convinced that she knew her station
in life too well ever to dream of doing such a thing, unless compelled
by some calamity. Edward seemed to be as much annoyed as myself, and did
not scruple to speak out about it; and, indeed, his feelings made him
forget himself in the presence of the post-boy; for he knit his fine
brow, and wondered why my dear mamma could not let the servant attend to
the door. But, alas! how little did we then dream of the cause.
When all our luggage had been got into the hall, and we had dismissed
the post-boy with what I’m sure was a very handsome gratuity for
himself, my mamma at once broke to us the terrible news which was to
welcome us home.
About three that afternoon, the good, kind soul had given herself the
trouble of coming over to see that all was nice and comfortable against
our arrival. She had knocked for at least a quarter of an hour, and
fancying the maid might be out on an errand, she had gone a little
further. But on coming back, she had found the same impossibility of
making any one in the house hear. She grew extremely alarmed, though
naturally far from a nervous woman, like the rest of our family. She
thought the house perhaps had been stripped, and the horrid ideas that
passed through her mind she told us no one could imagine. At last she
determined on forcing an entrance for herself; so she borrowed a pair of
steps from next door; and with extreme difficulty, (for mamma is
inclined to be stout,) and almost at the peril of some of the bones in
her body, got in at the parlour window.
Down in the kitchen, she found the maid lying on her back on the rug,
before the fire, in a state of complete insensibility, while our best
linen sheets--which mamma had given out to her the day before, in order
that they might be properly aired against our return--were hanging on
the horse, burnt to perfect rags, so that they could not even be cut up
into glass-cloths; and it was a mercy, she said, for which we ought to
go down on our bended knees, that we did not come home and find our
cottage orné a mass of black, smouldering, heart-rending ruins.
The state into which this dreadful news threw both Edward and myself may
be more easily imagined than described. Mamma’s lively picture of the
good-for-nothing woman’s sufferings filled our hearts at the time with
pity for the disreputable creature. We all thought it was a fit, and
that the slut was afflicted with epilepsy; but alas! it was much worse
than that; and she was, therefore, totally undeserving of all sympathy.
Though we were then so wrapt up in the woman, (if I might be allowed the
expression,) that we were unable to see through the minx; which fully
convinces me of the truth of the popular saying--“that we are all blind
mortals.”
And a nice state we found the place in, indeed--everything topsy turvy
throughout the establishment--indeed, any one, to have seen it, would
have said that the whole house had been turned out of windows--not even
so much as a spark of fire in the parlour grate--no cloth laid, nor
things on the table for tea. Indeed, had we been dying of hunger ever
so, there was nothing in the house for us but discomfort and misery--nor
was there a thing to welcome us but some hot water--and even _that_ we
should not have had, if my dear mamma herself had not prepared it for
our reception. So that--to use a figure of speech--the place really
seemed as if it did not belong to us, and that we were nothing better
than intruders in our own house.
I was even forced to stoop to light the fire myself; and my fair readers
may well imagine my feelings when I tell them that there was scarcely
even a bundle of wood in the establishment. As soon as it was fairly
alight, I gave the bellows to poor Edward, who not being, as he said,
“used to that sort of thing,” was consequently in a great passion; so I
left him alone to blow up the fire, while I went to see that deceitful
bit of goods, with the epilepsy, as I thought, up in the front
attic--for my mother had put her to bed during her fit--(pretty fit,
indeed!--but more of this hereafter.)
When I got there, I found my dear mamma standing by the bed-side with a
brandy-bottle, giving her some of the liquor in a dessert-spoon, with
the view of bringing her back to her senses. Asking mamma how the poor
thing (a deceitful baggage!) was, she told me that she had given her
some spirits before, and it seemed to do her a world of good, for she
had gone off to sleep afterwards. Presently, the girl opened her eyes,
and from the dull, leaden expression they had, I was quite shocked; for
at the time she appeared to me to be literally standing at death’s door.
I shook her gently, (though if I had known then half as much as I do
now, I really think I should have forgotten myself, and shaken the cat
to bits,) and asked her how she felt herself now. Upon which she made an
effort to speak; but the woman was no longer herself, for she had
entirely lost the use of her tongue, and there was no getting anything
out of her. My mamma, however, thought she would be able to understand,
even if she could not speak; and told Mary that it was very wrong and
wicked of her not to have said that she was subject to fits before she
entered our service, and tried to learn whether they were periodical or
not, but all to no purpose. So we both left her; and I remarked to
mamma, as we came down stairs, that, though I should have felt myself
bound to have mentioned the circumstance of her fits in her character,
still the omission was very excusable in her late mistress; for it
really would have been like taking the bread out of the poor creature’s
mouth, which no true lady could be expected to do.
When we returned to the parlour, we found Edward with (thanks to
goodness!) a nice fire, but he was so surly, (and well he might be,) at
the place being so uncomfortable, that he kept banging the things about,
though I did not expect he would have done as much so soon after our
marriage; and I recollect at the time it struck me as being highly
indecent. We described to him the state of the girl, and were much hurt
(though we thought it best not to show it) at the strong want of feeling
he displayed upon hearing an account of her affliction; for he was too
ready to put a bad construction on her illness; and didn’t hesitate to
say that he’d forfeit his head if the fits didn’t turn out to be fits of
drunkenness after all, calling the girl, to our great horror, “a
gin-drinking toad.” This so kindled my mamma’s wrath, that she declared
she wondered how he could ever stand there and say such things; and that
she should be very much astonished if his words did not rise up in
judgment against him some fine day or other; for that she was never more
convinced of anything in her life than that we should eventually find
Mary, as she had before said, and would say again, and she did not care
who heard her--a perfect treasure. Though she could not help allowing
that the fits were a slight drawback, and went somewhat against the
girl; still, as she could not reasonably be expected to have more than
one every six weeks, and would be sure to have warning when they were
coming on, why really my mamma said she could not see that there was so
much for a body to put up with, after all.
Edward observed, that, considering all things, he was afraid he should
have a good deal to put up with, from a certain quarter that was not a
hundred miles off. On which my mamma said something that has escaped me;
and Edward replied, I can’t exactly at present call to mind what. So
that I felt that a storm was gathering round about my head, and that the
house (if I may be permitted to use so strong an expression) would
shortly be too hot to hold me. Accordingly, with my usual sagacity in
such matters, I went up and kissed dear mamma, and got her to go down
stairs and look after the tea, for I was anxious to separate them, as I
saw they had every disposition to get together by the ears, which I was
sure would give rise to a great deal of pain on both sides.
At tea, little was said by either party--and, indeed, it was a sorry
meal. For my poor mamma had been thrown into such a flurry by Edward’s
cruel, ungrateful treatment, that she could not for the life of her lay
her hands upon the lump-sugar, and we were obliged to put up with moist,
to which Edward has a horrid dislike--and Mary had forgotten to take in
the milk while she was in her fit--and mamma had had the misfortune to
cut the bread and butter with an oniony knife, which gave my husband’s
stomach quite a turn; so that everything went crooked with us that
evening, and we were not sorry when the time came for mamma to leave. As
she was putting on her bonnet, she told me that Edward had behaved so
rude to her, that he really had quite upset her, (to use a figure of
speech,) and she didn’t know how she was ever to manage to get home, for
she positively couldn’t say whether she was walking on her head or her
heels.
When Edward and I retired for the night, the sheets which were intended
for our bed having been burnt to tinder, and having no others aired, we
were obliged to sleep between the blankets, which in no way allayed poor
Edward’s irritation. So that, from the time we went to bed to the time
we got up in the morning, he did nothing but amuse himself by fancying
all sorts of uncomfortable things, and would have it that the feather
bed was damp; and said that it was ten to one if my mother’s treasure
(as he delighted to call her) didn’t make us both get up in the morning
with churchyard coughs at least--or, more probably, with such a severe
attack of the rheumatics, as we should never get over to our dying
days--and which, he nearly frightened me out of my wits by declaring, he
confidently expected would render us both cripples for the rest of our
lives. Indeed, he actually, at one time, went so far as to jump up, and
swear that he would not rest until he took the bed from under me.
I trust I acted during this severe trial as became a woman with her
proper feelings about her; for, as this was the first serious difference
Edward and I had had since our union, I thought it best to let him know
that I was no longer the mere child that he seemed to take me for, and
that I was not going to allow myself to be trodden under foot like a
worm, (not I, indeed!) For I felt that, if I did not at once give him to
understand to the contrary, he might be induced to presume upon my
naturally retiring disposition; so I kept on sobbing as if my heart
would break half the night through, and did not allow him to have any
quiet until I had made him confess that he was in the wrong--and that he
had carried his airs too far--and that my dear mamma, at least, had done
all for the best--and that he should be very happy to see her to dinner
to-morrow--and that her greatest enemy could not but say, that she
meant very well.
Thus my courteous readers will see that my first serious trouble in life
arose from servants; and I can assure them it took such a hold of my
mind, that it made me more than once half repent of the vows of eternal
love and constancy that I had made to my beloved Edward; and wish in my
heart (though sincerely attached to my husband) that I was not a married
woman. For at the time we really believed Mary to be subject to fits,
and this made my naturally kind heart bleed with pity for the deceitful
minx, so of course I could not bear to find my husband running the girl
down whenever he had an opportunity. Though when my courteous readers
find out, as I did, that I had a perfect viper for a maid-of-all-work,
and learn that I had taken an habitual drunkard to my bosom, I am sure
they will sympathize with me rather than blame me, for all I did for the
creature; although, perhaps, they will hardly believe it possible that
any one could have been such a fool as I was.
The next morning, Mary came to me with her eyes full of tears to
apologize for her drunkenness; while I, in my natural simplicity,
imagined that the cat was speaking to me on the subject of her fits. She
hoped I would look over it this time, as she did not mean to get in the
same state again; on which I told the toad that it was no fault of hers,
as it must be plain to every rightly constituted mind, that she could
have no control over herself in that respect. She said trouble had
brought it upon her, and that it came over her so strong, at times, that
she had no power to stand up against it; all which I told her was very
natural, (as, indeed, it appeared to me then;) and I asked the creature,
in my foolish innocence, if she ever took anything when she found the
fit coming upon her. To which she replied, that in such a state she was
ready to fly to whatever she could get at; but that her stomach was so
weak, that anything strong was too much for her, and upset her directly;
and that it was the reason of her leaving her last situation. Upon
which, in a most simple-minded way, I told the tippling hussy that I
didn’t think it much to the credit of a clergyman to have turned her
away for that, and I actually was stupid enough (the reader, I’m sure,
will hardly believe it) to tell her that whenever she felt the fit
coming on, never to attempt to check it, but to let it have its due
course. And that if she would come to me, I would gladly give her
whatever she might take a fancy to, (and a pretty advantage she took of
my offer, as the courteous reader shall shortly see.)
As soon as Edward had gone to business, I ran upstairs and put on my
things, and stepped round to my dear mamma, to tell her all that had
occurred, and how Edward was exceeding sorry for what he had said, and
had asked me to grant him my pardon; and to prevail upon her to forget
all that had passed, and to come to dinner that day. My mamma commended
me for having been able to bring my husband to a proper sense of his
conduct; and said, that she was not the person to bear animosity to any
one, she was sure; though she could not help saying that the names he
had called that poor servant girl, under her awful affliction, had given
her quite a different opinion of his character, and that she was certain
she should never be able to like him half so well again. However, she
would try and wipe it all from her mind and begin anew, if it was only
for the sake of her own sweet Caroline, (that is myself.)
After we had taken a mouthful of some of the best cold roast pork I
think I ever tasted in the whole course of my life, and touched a little
stout by way of luncheon, my mamma told me that she was glad that things
had turned out as they had, for it had made her again determine to
present Edward with the valuable old painting of her noble ancestor,
F--tz-R--msb--tt--m, who is said to have come into England with the
Conqueror, and which relic, after Edward’s conduct last night, she had
made a vow should never belong to a man who could behave so unlike a
gentleman as he did. But now as all was straight, and I was her only
child, and the picture had been handed down in her family for years, and
she had always looked upon me as the heir-at-law to it, she would have
it brought round and put up in some part of the house where it could
always be before my eyes, and be continually reminding me of my station
in life, and that the noble blood of a R--msb--tt--m flowed in my veins.
When we went to look at the portrait of my noble ancestor, we could not
help remarking what a fine head it was, and that any one to look at him
might tell, from the likeness, that he was related to our family.
Though when I said I should wish to have it put up in the drawing-room,
and observed that it would be a nice thing to have hanging there on our
“At-home” day, as it would show Edward’s friends that he had not married
an ordinary person, and prove to them that our family were not mere
mushrooms who had never been heard of, mamma remarked that, if that was
the case, it would be better--now she thought of it--to have our
ancestor done up and cleaned a bit, as she said a good deal of the
nobility that was in his face was lost from its being so dirty as it
was; and that if he was fresh varnished and had a new frame, he would
certainly form a splendid ornament for our drawing-room, on our
“At-home” day. And that she knew a young man who had just started in
business in the H--mpst--d R--d, who would do it so cheaply that she was
sure Edward could not grumble at the expense.
My dear mamma kindly undertook to get all this done for me, though how
she was ever to manage it, she said, was more than she could tell; for
what with the house and the business she had more on her hands at
present than she knew what to do with; and, as she truly observed, she
was so full of one thing and another, just now, that she really did not
know which way to turn.
I thought it best to tell mamma not to mention the subject that evening
at dinner to Edward; stating that I wished it to come as a little
surprise to him when the picture was brought home. For to tell the
truth, I was afraid that she might get talking of her noble ancestors
before him; and as I knew that Edward did not entertain the same
elevated opinion of the R--msb--tt--ms as my mamma justly did, and had
even once gone so far as to call our gracious William the Conqueror, and
his noble knights, a set of vagabond robbers, (upon my word, he did,) I
thought it would be better not to let my dear mamma have her heart again
wrung by another difference with my husband.
We had a very nice plain family dinner that day--a mere simple joint;
but _so_ delightfully cooked--done to a turn--and sent up _so_
respectably, that it did me good to see it; and I really thought that
our toad of a Mary would turn out a blessing to us, after all. I had
told my mother that she must not look for any fuss and ceremony, or
expect us to treat her like a stranger, as she was too near and dear a
friend for us to put ourselves out of the way for her. Everything went
off _so_ admirably no one can tell--and the plates were _so_ nice and
hot--and Mary waited at table _so_ well--and looked _so_ clean and
respectable--which really, considering she had had to cook the dinner, I
was quite surprised and delighted to see. After dinner, dear Edward
_would_ open another bottle of port, and made himself _so_ happy, and
got to be _such_ good friends with mamma. Though I really sat on thorns,
(if I might be allowed the expression,) all the evening; for knowing
their disposition as well as I did, I was in fear that every minute
something would come on the carpet which would upset all, and make them
get knocking their heads against each other again; so that when the dear
soul left us, I said to myself, “I really haven’t been so happy for a
long time.”
Edward was in such a good humour, that when we went to bed, I thought it
a capital time to tell him about the picture, and got him to promise
that he would not go on about it before mamma; for though _he_ might not
care about our noble ancestors, still, as mamma’s family was her weak
point, it was very natural that she should cling to the R--msb--tt--ms
as fondly as she did. Besides, I told him that he had a nasty way of his
own of saying what he thought--and that if he didn’t take care, he’d
find he’d get into nice trouble through it some of these fine days; and
I was sure that if I went speaking my mind upon every occasion, my
conscience would not allow me to rest quiet in my bed.
Mary went on pretty well for a day or two, when we noticed that the
creature began to get rather confused in her intellects, and to be quite
beside herself, so that she scarcely seemed to know what she was about,
and kept breaking everything she put her hands upon. I, in my innocence,
began to fear that another fit was coming on, and I should be having the
minx laid up insensible on my “At-home” day--and a nice pickle I should
be in then, goodness knows. So, with my usual good nature, I asked her
if she would take anything, and whether she thought a little brandy
would put her straight. On which the hussy really began to see through
my mistake, and to understand that I was treating her for fits instead
of drunkenness; and said that she was sure I was very good, and that she
would try a glass--which the minx had, and pretended that it quite took
her breath away to drink it (the deceitful cat!)--and she actually had
the face to come to me and beg another one that evening, saying that the
first one had done her a world of good. So that there was I, really and
truly encouraging the horrid wretch in the worst of vices; and, as I
heard afterwards, she went about the neighbourhood, saying that it was
no fault of hers, and that I took a delight in making her tipsy; and the
worst of it all was, that it was on that very evening the picture came
home.
Dear mamma had stepped round to tell us, that now he was fresh
varnished, the dear man looked so heavenly in his new gilt frame, that
she felt as if she could hug him. She was in tremendous spirits about
it, and told Edward that it was an ornament that she knew she did wrong
in not presenting to the British Museum, for that a descendant of the
very same family had been Mayor of Norwich three times running. But
Edward behaved himself like a perfect gentleman, and only said “he
should hardly believe it.” A little after eight, the young man from the
H--mpst--d R--d came round with the picture and the bill himself, which
dear Edward (who, I regret to say, is naturally mean, being penny wise
and pound foolish) said he didn’t consider quite so cheap as my mother
had made out. However, when he saw the picture, he seemed to think
nothing more of it, and told the young man to go and get some green
cord, so that he might have our ancestor hung, as soon as possible, in
the drawing-room.
When the young man returned, Edward and myself went to the top of the
stairs with the candles, while that good-for-nothing creature, Mary,
(whom I’m sure we none of us suspected of being in liquor at the time,)
helped the young man up with the picture, and mamma went behind, so that
she might take care that it wasn’t grazed against the banisters; and
kept telling Mary, for goodness’ sake to mind what she was about, for
that she would not have anything happen to it for all she was worth.
Mary, who was in the advance, and consequently obliged to come upstairs
backwards, went on very well at first, (though how she ever could have
managed to do so, in the state she must have been in, is a wonder to us
all.) They had nearly reached the first landing when one of the
stair-rods being out, the carpet was loose, and we were horrified by
seeing Mary’s feet slip from under her, while the drunken cat let go
her hold of the picture, so that she might save herself from falling.
But what with the liquor the toad had taken on the sly, and what with
that which I had given her that afternoon, and what with coming upstairs
backwards, she had lost all command over herself, so that, after making
one or two vain attempts to keep her balance, we saw her, with horror,
pitched head first into the middle of our noble ancestor; at the same
time knocking backwards the young man from the H--mpst--d R--d; who
would, I am sure, have been killed on the spot, had he not luckily
broken his fall by tumbling right upon dear mamma,--who was
providentially not more than half-a-dozen stairs from the bottom--and
taking her legs from under her, they all three fell one a-top of
another, right into the hall--amidst the screams of my mother, the
crashing of the frame of our noble ancestor, and (I regret to add) the
laughter of my husband. I immediately rushed to poor mamma’s assistance,
confidently believing that she hadn’t a sound limb in her poor body. And
when I tell my courteous readers that I found my dear parent was nearly
smothered underneath the young man from the H--mpst--d R--d, (and he
must have been eleven stone, if he was an ounce,) and that that slut,
Mary, (who was certainly no sylph,) was right a-top of the young man, I
am sure they will agree with me, that it was a perfect miracle how dear
mother was ever able to bear it all as she did--for I am happy to say,
she was only dreadfully bruised, and that, indeed, no one was seriously
hurt by the fall but my poor noble ancestor, from whom my mother dated
her descent, and who was literally broken to bits--though my poor dear
mamma (as she afterwards told me) was black and blue all over for weeks.
At the time, she thought little of her own sufferings, for she was
chiefly concerned about the injuries her noble ancestor had sustained;
and when she saw the head of her family all knocked in, as it was, her
grief knew no bounds. My husband, I am ashamed to say, did not seem to
be at all affected by mamma’s distresses; and in a nasty, contrary
spirit, no longer grumbled about paying the money for the picture, when
it was broken; and, I verily believe, looked upon the accident as a good
bit of fun; though I should like to know how he would have liked it
himself, the brute!
As soon as we were in the parlour, and my poor mamma had got round
again, Edward observed--with a sarcastic grin, that I could almost have
shaken him for, I could--“What a pity it was that that poor girl, Mary,
should be so subject to fits!” On which my mother burst out, saying,
“Fits, indeed! she never saw such fits. It was nothing more nor less
than downright drunkenness, that it was; and how she could ever have
been imposed upon as she had been, she really couldn’t say; but that it
had all come upon her like a thunderbolt immediately after she saw the
girl staggering up the stairs; and that, indeed, to tell the truth, she
had had her suspicions before; and that on the day of our arrival from
Brighton, it struck her that there was a strong smell of spirits in the
house, but which, at the time, she attributed to the French polish of
the new furniture.” And then I mentioned that the way in which Mary had
drunk the brandy I had given her that afternoon--just as if it was so
much water--struck me as looking very queer at the time; and that I was
sure, that if it wasn’t for our “At-home” day being so near at hand, I
should bundle the baggage into the streets directly without a moment’s
warning--only half a loaf was better than no bread at all--and it would
never do to be left in the house without any one to open the door on
such an occasion.
Consequently, as I felt I was in the slut’s power, I thought it would be
better to avoid having any words with her, but to go on treating her
civilly until such time as I could turn her neck and crop out of the
house.
The evening before our “At-home” day, while I was busy in the parlour
with a warm flat-iron, taking the creases out of my white satin bridal
robe--which had got dreadfully tumbled in the carriage going to church,
and which mother had told me I ought to receive my friends in on the
morrow--mamma came round to see us, (Edward was going over some of his
filthy law papers,) and with her customary good nature--for she is
always thinking of something for us--brought with her a darling little
pet of a camphine night-lamp that she had picked up that day for a mere
nothing; and which she pointed out to dear Edward would be an immense
saving to us in the course of the year, as it gave the light of two
rushlights, and only cost one farthing for forty-eight hours. And then
the dear old soul, who has always had an excellent head for figures,
entered into a very nice calculation as to how many rushlights went to
the pound, and how many we burnt in the course of the year, and what the
expense was; and then putting them against the expense of the camphine,
she proved to Edward as clearly as ever I heard anything in all my life,
that, with a very little extra, he might be able to buy me another new
bonnet every year out of the difference. And then the good old body
filled the lamp with some camphine she had brought in her pocket in a
phial; and lighted it, just to show us how a child of ten years old
might manage the thing, it was so simple; and to let us see how, when
turned down, it gave the light of a rushlight, or when turned up, it was
nearly equal to that of a mould candle, and certainly superior to that
of a long-six. But Edward (just like a lawyer) observing that it smoked
when the flame was high, thought such a circumstance might be a slight
drawback to its beauty; but dear mamma said that of course no one but a
maniac would ever be such an idiot as to go turning it up that height.
As soon as mother had gone, Edward retired to bed, and left me sitting
up to finish my dress, and new cover my white satin shoes, which had got
dreadfully soiled with the mud in going to and from the carriage on our
wedding-day. And besides, I had to clean my white kid gloves, and to let
them hang up all night so as to get the filthy smell of the turpentine
out of them before the morning. It was long past midnight before I had
finished the better part of what I wanted to do; and as I could hear
Mary (who had been waiting up to clean the room overnight so that she
might have nothing to do in the morning to prevent her being ready
dressed long before the visitors came) knocking the things about below
in a dreadful ill-humour at being kept up so late; and as it wasn’t
worth while having a fresh candle put up just to do the few little odd
jobs that remained, I rang the bell for Mary; and lighting mamma’s
darling little pet of a camphine lamp, (drat the thing! I wish it had
never come into the house,) went up stairs, taking my things with me.
When I got to my room, I hung my beautiful bridal robes on the back of a
chair, and put out Edward’s nice clean white trousers ready for him in
the morning. I could scarcely keep my eyes open while Mary was undoing
me, and was so glad to get into bed, that I quite forgot, before doing
so, to turn down the camphine lamp. But just as I was dozing off, I
remembered it, and told Mary, who was hanging up my things, to be sure
and turn it down before she left the room; instead of which, the minx,
(who I’m sure was half-fuddled at the time,) went and turned the thing
the wrong way, like a stupid; so that there were both dear Edward and
myself sleeping in a state of blessed innocence, while the filthy thing
was smoking away as hard as it could go all night, just for all the
world like the funnel of a steam-boat, and sending out soot enough to
have smothered a whole regiment. As I had got all the next day upon my
mind, luckily I awoke as soon as it was light in the morning; and when I
turned round, and saw my dear Edward’s face an inch thick of black, I
really thought at first that I was in bed with a filthy negro. So I gave
him a good shaking, and woke him directly; and no sooner had he rubbed
his eyes open and looked at me, than the wretch burst out laughing, and
declared that I looked just like a chimney-sweep. I gave a scream, and
jumped out of bed like lightning--if I might be allowed so strong an
expression--and there was the whole place one mass of smuts: and the
beautiful clean dimity curtains, that had not been up a week--and the
white counterpane--and the toilet-covers--and the window-blinds--and the
towels--and my face--and my night-cap--looking just as if they had been
all washed in Indian ink; and, what nearly drove me right out of my
senses--my beautiful white satin bridal robes were actually the same as
if some evil-minded person had been dragging them--just for the pleasure
of the thing--up and down the chimney, and positively would have induced
one, at first sight, to believe that a body had been led to the altar in
bombazeen. I declare the beastly sooty stuff was everywhere,--there was
a shovelful, at least, in my white satin shoes--and my white gloves were
like black kid both inside and out--and it had even got right up my
nostrils--and I do verily believe that a quantity had gone down my
throat, for I generally sleep with my mouth open. But what annoyed me so
that I could hardly bear myself was, that Edward kept chuckling at all
my distress, (just like a man--for of course he knew _he_ wouldn’t have
the cleaning of it.) But when I showed him the grubby state that his
ducks were in, I was quite glad to see how angry it made him. And then
of course it was all his mother-in-law’s fault bringing him her
bothering twopenny-halfpenny lamps; and I really thought I should have
been obliged to go into hysterics when I heard him say that the next
time he caught my dear, respected mamma in his house, he’d pack her off
with a flea in her ear!
And a pretty situation I was in, to be sure. I daren’t for the life of
me open my mouth, for fear that the hussy should leave me at a moment’s
notice, at such a time, when, bad as she was, it was impossible to do
without her; and there were my bridal robes spoilt before my very eyes,
and I didn’t know how on earth I was ever to receive my friends, as I
really hadn’t a single thing to put on.