A FAMILY CATASTROPHE
I am bound to say that Flossie's brothers and sisters (and Sarah)
received the news of her approaching departure from her father's roof
with unmixed feelings. Not a drop of sorrow was there to mar the cup of
joy which the occasion presented to every one. Not a regret at the
blank her going would cause leavened the general satisfaction at her
happiness. And Flossie herself was the least sorrowful, the least
regretful, and the most satisfied of all.
Like May, she was marrying well--that is to say, she was marrying money.
But, unlike May's husband, who was old, her future lord and master was
young--only five years older than herself. It is true he was not much
to look at; but then, as Mrs. Stubbs remarked to her husband, that was
Flossie's business. It was equally true that he was reputed to be a
young scamp, with an atrocious temper; but then, as Tom said, that was
Flossie's look-out, and decidedly Flossie was not without little
failings of that kind--though why, if one bad-tempered person decides
upon marrying another bad-tempered person, it is generally considered by
the world to be all right, because the one is as bad to get on with as
the other, it would be hard to say; perhaps it is on the principle of
two negatives making an affirmative, or in the belief that two wrongs
will make eventually a right; I cannot say. But, odd as it is, that is
the very general opinion.
The engagement was an unusually short one. Indeed, the bride had barely
time to get her things ready by the day, and a great part of her
trousseau was not able to be ready before her return from her honeymoon.
But still they never seemed to think of putting off the wedding for a
single day, although it was fixed to take place just six weeks from the
day of the ball, when the engagement had begun.
It seemed to Sarah, well used as she had become to seeing liberal
expenditure, that at this time the entire family seemed to be spending
money like water! May's wedding had been a very grand one, but
Flossie's outshone it in every way--in the number of the bridesmaids, in
the number of the guests, in the number of the carriages, and the
servants, and the flowers, in the splendour of the presents and the
dresses of the trousseau, nay, in the very length of the bride's train.
The presents were gorgeous! Mr. Stubbs gave his daughter a gold-mounted
dressing-case and a cheque for a thousand pounds; Mrs. Stubbs gave a
diamond star, and May a necklace of such magnificence that even Flossie
was astounded when she saw it.
So Flossie became Mrs. Jones, and passed away from her old home; and
when it was all over, and the tokens of the great feast and merry-making
had been cleared away, the household for a few days settled down into
comparative quietude.
Only for a few days, however. With the exception of Sarah, who was too
deeply engrossed in her work to care much for passing pleasures, the
entire family seemed to have caught a fever of restlessness and love of
excitement. After ten days the bride and bridegroom returned, and there
were great parties to welcome them. Every day there seemed some reason
why they should launch out a little further, and yet a little further,
and instead of the family being less expensive now that two daughters
were married, the general expenditure was far more lavish than it had
ever been before. They had a second man-servant and another maid, and
then they found that it was impossible to get on any longer without a
second "broom" horse for night-work.
They did, indeed, begin to talk about leaving Jesamond Road, and going
into a larger house. The boys--Tom was just seventeen, and Johnnie only
fifteen--wanted a billiard-room, and Minnie wanted a boudoir, and Mr.
Stubbs wanted a larger study, and Mrs. Stubbs wanted a double hall. That
change, however, was never made, although Mrs. Stubbs and Minnie had
seen and set their hearts upon a mansion in Earl's Court at a modest
rental of five hundred a year, which they thought quite a reasonable
rent--for one awful night the senior clerk came tearing up to the door
in a cab, with the horse all in a lather and his own face like chalk,
and asked for the master.
[Illustration: And asked for the master.]
The master and mistress were just going out to a great dinner-party at
the house of Mrs. Giath, their eldest daughter, in Palace Gardens, but
Mr. Stubbs came down and saw him in the study. They were shut up there
together for some time, until Mrs. Stubbs grew impatient, and knocked
several times at the door, with a reminder that they would be very late,
and that May would not like to be kept waiting. And at last Mr. Stubbs
opened the door and came out.
"Get my coat, James," he said to the servant; then, as he buttoned it,
added, "Mr. Senior will have a glass of wine and a biscuit before he
goes. Good-night, Senior. See you in the morning."
"Lor, Pa!" exclaimed Mrs. Stubbs, as they rolled away from the door, "I
thought something was the matter."
"No, my dear, only some important business Senior thought I ought to
know about," he answered; and Mr. Stubbs that evening was the very light
and life of his daughter's party.
But in the morning the crash came! Not that he was there to see it,
though; for just as they reached home again, and he passed into his own
house, Mr. Stubbs reeled and fell to the ground in all the hideousness
of a severe paralytic seizure.
Nor did he ever, even partially, recover his senses; before the day was
done he had gone out of the sea of trouble which overwhelmed him, to
answer for his doings before a high and just tribunal, which, let us
hope, would give him a more merciful judgment than he would have found
in this world.
Mrs. Stubbs was broken-hearted and inconsolable. "If he had only been
spared for a bit," she sobbed to her married daughters, who came to her
in her trouble; "but to be taken sudden like that! oh, it is 'ard--it
is 'ard."
"Poor Pa," murmured May; "he was so active, he couldn't have borne to be
ill and helpless, as he would have been if he'd lived. I wouldn't fret
so, if I were you, Ma, dear, I really wouldn't."
"There's nothing dishonourable," Mrs. Stubbs sobbed; "all's gone, but
your poor Pa's good name's 'ere still. I do thank 'eaven for that--yes,
I do."
"H'm! If Pa'd been half sharp," Flossie remarked, "he'd have taken care
there was something left."
"He's left his good name and his good deeds behind him--that's better
than mere money," said Sarah softly, holding her aunt's hand very
tightly in both of hers.
"Oh, well, as to that, Sarah," said Flossie, "of course it isn't likely
_you'll_ blame Pa for being so lavish as he was; dressed just the same
as us, and expensive violin lessons twice a week, and all that."
Mrs. Stubbs and May both cried out upon Flossie for her words.
"Cruel, cruel!" Mrs. Stubbs exclaimed; "when you've had every lux'ry you
could wish, to blame your poor Pa for his charity before he's laid in
his grave. I'm ashamed of you, Flossie, I am!" And then she hid her
face on Sarah's slim young shoulder, and broke into bitter sobs and
tears.