"I think, Roland," said my mother, "that the establishment is
settled. Bolt, who is equal to three men at least; Primmins, cook and
housekeeper; Molly a good stirring girl--and willing, (though I've had
some difficulty in persuading her, poor thing, to submit not to be
called Anna Maria!) Their wages are but a small item, my dear Roland."
"Hem!" said Roland, "since we can't do with fewer servants at less
wages, I suppose we must call it small--"
"It is so," said my mother with mild positiveness. "And, indeed, what
with the game and fish, and the garden and poultry-yard, and your own
mutton, our housekeeping will be next to nothing."
"Hem!" again said the thrifty Roland, with a slight inflection of the
beetle brows. "It may be next to nothing, ma'am--sister--just as a
butcher's shop may be next to Northumberland House, but there is a vast
deal between nothing and that next neighbour you have given it."
This speech was so like one of my father's;--so _naïve_ an imitation
of that subtle reasoner's use of the rhetorical figure called
ANTANACLASIS, (or repetition of the same words in a different sense,)
that I laughed and my mother smiled. But she smiled reverently, not
thinking of the ANTANACLASIS, as, laying her hand on Roland's arm, she
replied in the yet more formidable figure of speech called EPIPHONEMA,
(or exclamation,) "Yet, with all your economy, you would have had us--"
"Tut!" cried my uncle, parrying the EPIPHONEMA with a masterly
APOSIOPESIS (or breaking off;) "tut! if you had done what I wished, I
should have had more pleasure for my money!"
My poor mother's rhetorical armoury supplied no weapon to meet that
artful APOSIOPESIS, so she dropped the rhetoric altogether, and went
on with that "unadorned eloquence" natural to her, as to other great
financial reformers:--"Well, Roland, but I am a good housewife, I
assure you, and--don't scold; but that you never do,--I mean don't look
as if you would like to scold; the fact is, that, even after setting
aside £100 a-year for our little parties--"
"Little parties!--a hundred a-year!" cried the Captain aghast.
My mother pursued her way remorselessly,--"Which we can well
afford; and without counting your half-pay, which you must keep for
pocket-money and your wardrobe and Blanche's, I calculate that we can
allow Pisistratus £150 a-year, which, with the scholarship he is to
get, will keep him at Cambridge," (at that, seeing the scholarship
was as yet amidst the Pleasures of Hope, I shook my head doubtfully;)
"and," continued my mother, not heeding that sign of dissent, "we shall
still have something to lay by."
The Captain's face assumed a ludicrous expression of compassion and
horror; he evidently thought my mother's misfortunes had turned her
head.
His tormentor continued.
"For," said my mother, with a pretty calculating shake of her head,
and a movement of the right forefinger towards the five fingers of the
left hand, "three hundred and seventy pounds--the interest of Austin's
fortune--and fifty pounds that we may reckon for the rent of our house,
make £420 a-year. Add your £330 a-year from the farm, sheep-walk, and
cottages that you let, and the total is £750. Now with all we get for
nothing for our housekeeping, as I said before, we can do very well
with five hundred a-year, and indeed make a handsome figure. So, after
allowing Sisty £150, we still have £100 to lay by for Blanche."
"Stop, stop, stop!" cried the Captain, in great agitation; "who told
you that I had £330 a-year?"
"Why, Bolt--don't be angry with him."
"Bolt is a blockhead. From £330 a-year take £200, and the remainder is
all my income, besides my half-pay."
My mother opened her eyes, and so did I.
"To that £130 add, if you please, £130 of your own. All that you have
over, my dear sister, is yours or Austin's, or your boy's; but not a
shilling can go to give luxuries to a miserly, battered old soldier. Do
you understand me?"
"No, Roland," said my mother, "I don't understand you at all. Does not
your property bring in £330 a-year?"
"Yes, but it has a debt of £200 a-year on it," said the Captain,
gloomily and reluctantly.
"Oh, Roland!" cried my mother tenderly, and approaching so near that,
had my father been in the room, I am sure she would have been bold
enough to kiss the stern Captain, though I never saw him look sterner
and less kissable. "Oh, Roland!" cried my mother, concluding that
famous EPIPHONEMA which my uncle's APOSIOPESIS had before nipped in the
bud, "and yet you would have made us, who are twice as rich, rob you of
this little all!"
"Ah!" said Roland, trying to smile, "but I should have had my own way
then, and starved you shockingly. No talk then of 'little parties,' and
suchlike. But you must not now turn the tables against me, nor bring
your £420 a-year as a set-off to my £130."
"Why," said my mother generously, "you forget the money's worth that
you contribute--all that your grounds supply, and all that we save by
it. I am sure that that's worth a yearly £300 at the least."
"Madam--sister," said the Captain, "I'm sure you don't want to hurt my
feelings. All I have to say is, that, if you add to what I bring an
equal sum--to keep up the poor old ruin--it is the utmost that I can
allow, and the rest is not more than Pisistratus can spend."
So saying, the Captain rose, bowed, and before either of us could stop
him, hobbled out of the room.
"Dear me, Sisty!" said my mother, wringing her hands, "I have certainly
displeased him. How could I guess he had so large a debt on the
property?"
"Did not he pay his son's debts? Is not that the reason that--"
"Ah," interrupted my mother, almost crying, "and it was that which
ruffled him, and I not to guess it? What shall I do?"
"Set to work at a new calculation, dear mother, and let him have his
own way."
"But then," said my mother, "your uncle will mope himself to death, and
your father will have no relaxation, while you see that he has lost
his former object in his books. And Blanche--and you too. If we were
only to contribute what dear Roland does, I do not see how, with £260
a-year, we could ever bring our neighbours round us! I wonder what
Austin would say! I have half a mind--no, I'll go and look over the
week-books with Primmins."
My mother went her way sorrowfully, and I was left alone.
Then I looked on the stately old hall, grand in its forlorn decay.
And the dreams I had begun to cherish at my heart swept over me, and
hurried me along, far, far away into the golden land, whither Hope
beckons Youth. To restore my father's fortunes--reweave the links of
that broken ambition which had knit his genius with the world--rebuild
these fallen walls--cultivate those barren moors--revive the ancient
name--glad the old soldier's age--and be to _both_ the brothers what
Roland had lost--a son! These were my dreams; and when I woke from
them, lo! they had left behind an intense purpose, a resolute object.
Dream, O youth--dream manfully and nobly, and thy dreams shall be
prophets!