See, now, what life is; I have had ill-luck on ill-luck from that day to
this. I have sunk in the world, and, instead of riding my horse and
drinking my wine, as a real gentleman should, have hardly enough now to
buy a pint of ale; ay, and am very glad when anybody will treat me to
one. Why, why was I born to undergo such unmerited misfortunes?
You must know that very soon after my adventure with Miss Crutty, and
that cowardly ruffian, Captain Waters (he sailed the day after his
insult to me, or I should most certainly have blown his brains out;
_now_ he is living in England, and is my relation; but, of course, I cut
the fellow). Very soon after these painful events another happened,
which ended, too, in a sad disappointment. My dear papa died, and
instead of leaving five thousand pounds as I expected, at the very
least, left only his estate, which was worth but two. The land and house
were left to me; to mamma and my sisters he left, to be sure, a sum of
two thousand pounds in the hands of that eminent firm, Messrs. Pump,
Aldgate, and Co., which failed within six months after his demise; and
paid in five years about one shilling and ninepence in the pound; which
really was all my dear mother and sisters had to live upon.
The poor creatures were quite unused to money matters; and, would you
believe it? when the news came of Pump and Aldgate's failure, mamma only
smiled, and threw her eyes up to Heaven, and said, "Blessed be God, that
we have still wherewithal to live: there are tens of thousands in this
world, dear children, who would count our poverty riches." And with this
she kissed my two sisters, who began to blubber, as girls always will
do, and threw their arms round her neck, and then round my neck, until I
was half stifled with their embraces, and slobbered all over with their
tears.
"Dearest mamma," said I, "I am very glad to see the noble manner in
which you bear your loss; and more still to know that you are so rich as
to be able to put up with it." The fact was, I really thought the old
lady had got a private hoard of her own, as many of them have—a thousand
pounds or so in a stocking. Had she put by thirty pounds a year, as well
she might, for the thirty years of her marriage, there would have been
nine hundred pounds clear, and no mistake. But still I was angry to
think that any such paltry concealment had been practised—concealment
too of _my_ money; so I turned on her pretty sharply, and continued my
speech. "You say, ma'am, that you are rich, and that Pump and Aldgate's
failure has no effect upon you. I am very happy to hear you say so,
ma'am—very happy that you _are_ rich; and I should like to know where
your property, my father's property, for you had none of your own,—I
should like to know where this money lies—_where you have concealed it_,
ma'am, and permit me to say, that when I agreed to board you and my two
sisters for eighty pounds a year, I did not know that you had _other_
resources than those mentioned in my blessed father's will."
This I said to her because I hated the meanness of concealment, not
because I lost by the bargain of boarding them, for the three poor
things did not eat much more than sparrows; and I've often since
calculated that I had a clear twenty pounds a year profit out of them.
Mamma and the girls looked quite astonished when I made the speech.
"What does he mean?" said Lucy to Eliza.
Mamma repeated the question, "My beloved Robert, what concealment are
you talking of?"
"I am talking of concealed property, ma'am," says I, sternly.
"And do you—what—can you—do you really suppose that I have concealed—any
of that blessed sa-a-a-aint's prop-op-op-operty?" screams out mamma.
"Robert," says she, "Bob, my own darling boy—my fondest, best beloved,
now _he_ is gone" (meaning my late governor—more tears), "you don't, you
cannot fancy that your own mother, who bore you, and nursed you, and
wept for you, and would give her all to save you from a moment's harm—
you don't suppose that she would che-e-e-eat you?" and here she gave a
louder screech than ever, and flung back on the sofa, and one of my
sisters went and tumbled into her arms, and t'other went round, and the
kissing and slobbering scene went on again, only I was left out, thank
goodness; I hate such sentimentality.
"_Che-e-e-at me_," says I, mocking her. "What do you mean, then, by
saying you're so rich? Say, have you got money or have you not?" (and I
rapped out a good number of oaths, too, which I don't put in here; but I
was in a dreadful fury, that's the fact).
"So help me, Heaven," says mamma, in answer, going down on her knees,
and smacking her two hands; "I have but a Queen Anne's guinea in the
whole of this wicked world."
"Then what, madam, induces you to tell these absurd stories to me, and
to talk about your riches, when you know that you and your daughters are
beggars, ma'am—_beggars_?"
"My dearest boy, have we not got the house, and the furniture, and a
hundred a year still; and have you not great talents which will make all
our fortunes?" says Mrs. Stubbs, getting up off her knees, and making
believe to smile as she clawed hold of my hand and kissed it.
This was _too_ cool. "_You_ have got a hundred a year, ma'am," says I,
"_you_ got a house: upon my soul and honour this is the first I ever
heard of it, and I'll tell you what, ma'am," says I (and it cut her
_pretty sharply_ too), "as you've got it, _you'd better go and live in
it_. I've got quite enough to do with my own house, and every penny of
my own income."
Upon this speech the old lady said nothing, but she gave a screech loud
enough to be heard from here to York, and down she fell—kicking and
struggling in a regular fit.
* * * * *
I did not see Mrs. Stubbs for some days after this, and the girls used
to come down to meals, and never speak; going up again and stopping with
their mother. At last, one day, both of them came in very solemn to my
study, and Eliza, the eldest, said, "Robert, mamma has paid you our
board up to Michaelmas."
"She has," says I; for I always took precious good care to have it in
advance.
"She says, John, that on Michaelmas day we'll—we'll go away, John."
"Oh, she's going to her own house, is she, Lizzy? very good; she'll want
the furniture, I suppose, and that she may have, too, for I'm going to
sell the place myself;" and so _that_ matter was settled.
* * * * *
On Michaelmas day, and during these two months, I hadn't, I do believe,
seen my mother twice (once, about two o'clock in the morning, I woke and
found her sobbing over my bed). On Michaelmas day morning, Eliza comes
to me and says, "_John, they will come and fetch us at six this
evening._" Well, as this was the last day, I went and got the best goose
I could find (I don't think I ever saw a primer, or ate more hearty
myself), and had it roasted at three, with a good pudding afterwards;
and a glorious bowl of punch. "Here's a health to you, dear girls," says
I, "and you, ma, and good luck to all three, and as you've not eaten a
morsel, I hope you wont object to a glass of punch. It's the old stuff,
you know, ma'am, that that Waters sent to my father fifteen years ago."
Six o'clock came, and with it came a fine barouche, as I live! Captain
Waters was on the box (it was his coach); that old thief, Bates, jumped
out, entered my house, and before I could say Jack Robinson, whipped off
mamma to the carriage, the girls followed, just giving me a hasty shake
of the hand, and as mamma was helped in, Mary Waters, who was sitting
inside, flung her arms round her, and then round the girls, and the
Doctor, who acted footman, jumped on the box, and off they went; taking
no more notice of _me_ than if I'd been a nonentity.
There's the picture of the whole business: That's mamma and Miss Waters
sitting kissing each other in the carriage, with the two girls in the
back seat; Waters driving (a precious bad driver he is, too); and that's
me, standing at the garden door, and whistling. You can't see Mary
Malowney; the old fool is crying behind the garden gate: she went off
next day along with the furniture; and I got into that precious scrape
which I shall mention next.