Although it may be very proper, when an offence has been offered us, to
show that we feel the injury, it often happens that we act too much upon
impulse and carry measures to extremities; and this our hero felt as the
coach wheeled him along, every second increasing his distance from Emma
Phillips; twenty times he was inclined to take a postchaise and return,
but the inconsistency would have been so glaring, that shame prevented
him; so he went on until he reached the metropolis, and on arriving
there, having nothing better to do, he went to bed. The next day he
booked himself for the following day's coach to Manstone, and having so
done, he thought he would reconnoitre the domicile of Major and Mrs
McShane, and, now that Furness was no longer to be dreaded, make his
existence known to them. He went to Holborn accordingly, and found the
shop in the same place, with the usual enticing odour sent forth from
the grating which gave light and air to the kitchen; but he perceived
that there was no longer the name of McShane on the private door, and
entering the coffee-room, and looking towards the spot where Mrs
McShane usually stood carving the joint, he discovered a person
similarly employed whose face was unknown to him; in fact, it could not
be Mrs McShane, as it was a man. Our hero went up to him, and inquired
if the McShanes still carried on the business, and was told that they
had sold it some time back. His next inquiry, as to what had become of
them, produced an "I don't know," with some symptoms of impatience at
being interrupted. Under such circumstances, our hero had nothing more
to do but either to sit down and eat beef or to quit the premises. He
preferred the latter, and was once more at the hotel, where he dedicated
the remainder of the day to thinking of his old friends, as fate had
debarred him from seeing them.
The next morning Joey set off by the coach, and arrived at Manstone a
little before dusk. He remained at the principal inn of the village,
called the Austin Arms, in honour of the property in the immediate
vicinity; and, having looked at the various quarterings of arms that the
signboard contained, without the slightest idea that they appertained to
himself, he ordered supper, and looking out of the window of the first
floor, discovered, at no great distance down the one street which
composed the village, the small ale-house where he had before met Mary.
Our hero no longer felt the pride of poverty; he had resented the
treatment he had received at the Hall when friendless, but, now that he
was otherwise, he had overcome the feeling, and had resolved to go up to
the Hall on the following day, and ask for Mary. He was now well
dressed and with all the appearance and manners of a gentleman: and,
moreover, he had been so accustomed to respect from servants, that he
had no idea of being treated otherwise. The next morning, therefore, he
walked up to the Hall, and, knocking at the door, as soon as it was
opened, he told the well-powdered domestics that he wished to speak a
few words to Miss Atherton, if she still lived with Mrs Austin. His
appearance was considered by these gentlemen in waiting as sufficient to
induce them to show him into a parlour, and to send for Mary, who in a
few minutes came down to him, and embraced him tenderly. "I should
hardly have known you, my dear boy," said she, as the tears glistened in
her eyes; "you have grown quite a man. I cannot imagine, as you now
stand before me, that you could have been the little Joey that was
living at Mrs Chopper's."
"We are indebted to that good woman for our prosperity," replied Joey.
"Do you know, Mary, that your money has multiplied so fast that I almost
wish that you would take it away, lest by some accident it should be
lost? I have brought you an account."
"Let me have an account of yourself, my dear brother," replied Mary; "I
have no want of money; I am here well and happy."
"So you must have been, for you look as young and handsome as when I
last saw you, Mary. How is your mistress?"
"She is well, and would, I think, be happy, if it were not for the
strange disease of Mr Austin, who secludes himself entirely, and will
not even go outside of the park gates. He has become more overbearing
and haughty than ever, and several of the servants have quitted within
the last few months."
"I have no wish to meet him, dear Mary, after what passed when I was
here before? I will not put up with insolence from any man, even in his
own house," replied our hero.
"Do not speak so loud, his study is next to us, and that door leads to
it," replied Mary; "he would not say anything to you, but he would find
fault with me."
"Then you had better come to see me at the Austin Arms, where I am
stopping."
"I will come this evening," replied Mary.
At this moment the door which led to the study was opened, and a voice
was heard--
"Mary, I wish you would take your sweethearts to a more convenient
distance."
Joey heard the harsh, hollow voice, but recognised it not; he would not
turn round to look at Mr Austin, but remained with his back to him, and
the door closed again with a bang.
"Well," observed Joey, "that is a pretty fair specimen of what he is, at
all events. Why did you not say I was your brother?"
"Because it was better to say nothing," replied Mary; "he will not come
in again."
"Well, I shall leave you now," said Joey, "and wait till the evening;
you will be certain to come?"
"O yes, I certainly shall," replied Mary. "Hush! I hear my mistress
with Mr Austin. I wish you could see her, you would like her very
much."
The outer door of the study was closed to, and then the door of the room
in which they were conversing was opened, but it was shut again
immediately.
"Who was that?" said our hero, who had not turned round to ascertain.
"Mrs Austin; she just looked in, and seeing I was engaged, she only
nodded to me to say that she wanted me, I presume, and then went away
again," replied Mary. "You had better go now, and I will be sure to
come in the evening."
Our hero quitted the hall; he had evidently been in the presence of his
father and mother without knowing it, and all because he happened on
both occasions to have his face turned in a wrong direction, and he left
the house as unconscious as he went in. As soon as our hero had left
the hall, Mary repaired to her mistress.
"Do you want me, madam?" said Mary, as she went to her mistress.
"No, Mary, not particular, but Mr Austin sent for me; he was annoyed at
your having a strange person in the house, and desired me to send him
away."
"It was my brother, madam," replied Mary.
"Your brother! I am very sorry, Mary, but you know how nervous Mr
Austin is, and there is no reasoning against nerves. I should have
liked to have seen your brother very much; if I recollect rightly, you
told me he was doing well at Portsmouth, is he not?"
"Yes, madam; he is now a partner in one of the first houses there."
"Why, Mary, he will soon have you to keep his own house, I presume, and
I shall lose you; indeed, your are more fit for such a situation than
your present one, so I must not regret it if you do."
"He has no idea of taking a house, madam," replied Mary, "nor have I any
of quitting you; your place is quite good enough for me. I promised to
go down and meet him this evening, with your permission, at the Austin
Arms."
"Certainly," replied Mrs Austin; and then the conversation dropped.
Our hero remained at the inn two days, a portion of which Mary passed
with him, and then he set off for Dudstone; he did not make Mary a
confident of his attachment to Emma Phillips, although he imparted to
her the death of Furness, and the relief it had afforded him, promising
to return to see her before he went back to Portsmouth.
Joey once more set off on his travels, and without incident arrived at
the good old town of Dudstone, where he put up at the Commercial Hotel;
his only object was, to ascertain the condition of his lodgings: for the
first two years he had sent the rent of the room to the old woman to
whom the house belonged, but latterly no application had been made for
it, although his address had been given; and, occupied by other business
more important, our hero had quite forgotten the affair, or if he did
occasionally recall it to his memory, it was soon dismissed again. His
key he had brought with him, and he now proceeded to the house and
knocked at the door, surmising that the old woman was possibly dead, and
his property probably disposed of; the first part of the surmise was
disproved by the old woman coming to the door; she did not recognise our
hero, and it was not until he produced the key of his room that she was
convinced that he was the lawful owner of its contents. She told him
she could not write herself, and that the party who had written to
Portsmouth for her was dead, and that she felt sure he would come back
at some time and settle with her; and, moreover, she was afraid that the
furniture would be much injured by having been shut up so long, which
was not only very likely, but proved to be the case when the door was
opened; she also said that she could have made money for him, had he
allowed her to let the lodgings furnished, as she had had several
applications. Our hero walked into his apartment, which certainly had a
very mothy and mouldy appearance. As soon as a fire had been lighted,
he collected all that he wanted to retain for himself, the books, plate,
and some other articles, which he valued for Spikeman's sake, and as old
reminiscences, and putting them up in a chest, requested that it might
be sent to the inn; and then, upon reflection, he thought he could do no
better with the remainder than to make them a present to the old woman,
which he did, after paying up her arrears of rent, and by so doing made
one person, for the time, superlatively happy, which is something worth
doing in this chequered world of ours. Joey, as soon as he had returned
to the inn, sat down to write to Spikeman, and also to Mr Small, at
Portsmouth, and having posted his letters, as he did not quit Dudstone
until the next morning, he resolved to pay a visit to his former
acquaintances, Miss Amelia and Miss Ophelia. His knock at the door was
answered by Miss Amelia, as usual, but with only one arm unoccupied, a
baby being in the other, and the squalling in the little parlour gave
further evidence of matrimony. Our hero was obliged to introduce
himself, as he was stared at as an utter stranger; he was then
immediately welcomed, and requested to walk into the parlour. In a few
minutes the whole of the family history was communicated. The old lady
had been dead three years, and at her death the young ladies found
themselves in possession of one thousand pounds each. This thousand
pounds proved to them that husbands were to be had, even at Dudstone and
its vicinity. Miss Amelia had been married more than two years to a
master builder, who had plenty of occupation, not so much in building
new houses at Dudstone as in repairing the old ones, and they were doing
well, and had two children. Her sister had married a young farmer, and
she could see her money every day in the shape of bullocks and sheep
upon the farm; they also were doing well. Joey remained an hour: Mrs
Potts was very anxious that he should remain longer, and give her his
opinion of her husband; but this, Joey declined, and, desiring to be
kindly remembered to her sister, took his leave, and the next morning
was on his way to London.