PROVIDENCE SEES FIT TO HELP VILLANY.
"Now that's what I call bones."
It was a currish image, suggestive of the choicest satisfaction. Let us
try to discover what good news such an idiosyncrasy as that of John
Dillaway would be pleased to designate as "bones." He had forthwith gone
to his father's room as merry at the chance of ousting poor Maria, as
the heartlessness of avarice could make him; and omnipresent authorship
jotted down the dialogue that follows:
"So, governor, there's to be a wedding here, I find; when does it come
off?"
"Ey? what? a wedding? whose?"
"Oh, ho! you don't know, ey? I guessed as much: what do you think now of
our laughing, and crying, and kissing, and praying Miss Maria with--
"Not that beggar Clements? Ey? what? d----" &c., &c.
"Ha, ha, ha, ha! I thought so; why not, governor? Are you an old mole,
that you haven't seen it these six weeks? Are you stone deaf, that all
their pretty speeches have been wasted on you? All I can say is, that if
Mr. and Mrs. Clements an't spliced, it's pretty well time they should
be, and--
"Sir Thomas Dillaway rattled out so terrible an oath about Maria's
disinheritance if she ventured upon a marriage, that even John was
staggered at such a dreadful curse; nevertheless, an instantaneous
reflection soon caused that curse to be viewed metaphorically as a
'bone;' and the generous brother cautiously proceeded--
"Why, governor, all this is very odd, must say; when I caught 'em
kissing up there ten minutes ago, they were sharp enough to swear that
you knew all about it, and that you were so 'very, very kind.'"
How is it possible, intelligent reader, to avoid perpetual allusion to
an oath? We must not pare the lion's claws, and give bad men soft
speeches: pr'ythee, supply an occasional interjection, and believe that
in this place Sir Thomas swore most awfully; then, in a complete
phrensy, he vowed that he "would turn Maria out of house and home this
minute." This was another "bone," clearly.
But it was now becoming politic to calm him. Shrewd Jack was well aware
that Maria would relinquish all, and sacrifice, not merely her own
heart, but her Henry's too, rather than be guilty of filial
disobedience. All this storming, hopeful as it looked, might still be
premature, and do no substantial good; nay, if this wrath broke out too
soon, Maria would at once give way, become more dutiful than ever, and
his golden chance was gone. No: they were not married yet. Let the
wedding somehow first take place, and then--! and then!--for now he knew
which way the wind blew; so the scheming youth calmed his rising
triumphs, and counselled his progenitor as follows:
"Well, governor, I never saw so green a blade in all my born days. Can't
you see, now, that it's all cram this, just to put you in spirits, old
boy, in case of such things happening? It was wicked too of me to tease
you so--but I'm so jolly, governor; such luck in Jermyn street--I knew
you'd like a joke served up with such rich sauce as this is, ey? only
look!" It was half a hatful of bank notes raked up at the hazard table.
Sir Thomas's gray eyes darted swiftly at the spoil; often as he had
warned and scolded Jack about the matter of Jermyn street (for Jack was
bold enough never to conceal one of his little foibles), the father had
now nothing to object; for, in his philosophy, the end justified the
means. With most of this wise world, he looked upon success as in the
nature of virtue, and failure as the surest sign of vice; accordingly
his ire was diverted on the moment, and blazed in admiration of son
Jack: and that estimable creature immediately determined it was wise to
speak in tones of unwonted affection respecting his sister.
"Now, governor, I put it to you plump, isn't this hatful enough to make
a man beside himself, so as not to stick at a white lie or two? Dear
Maria there is no more going to become a Mrs. Clements than you are; she
cut the fellow dead long ago: so mind, that's a tough old bird, you
don't say one word to her about him; it would be just raking up the
cinders again, you know, and you might be fool enough to raise a flame.
No, governor, if it's any consolation to you, that pauper connection has
been all at an end this month; not but what the beggar's got my mother's
ear still, I fancy; but as to Maria, she detests him. So take my advice,
and don't tease the poor girl about the business. Now, then, that this
is all settled, and now that you 're the merrier for that silly bit of
storming at nothing, just listen: the wedding's my own! isn't Jack
Dillaway a clever fellow now, to have caught a Right Honourable
Ladyship, with a park in Yorkshire, a palace in Wales, and a mansion in
Grosvenor square?"
At this _extempore_ invention, the delighted parent rained so many
blessings on his progeny, that John knew the tide was turned at once.
Our ex-lord mayor had high ambitions, dating from the year of glory
onwards; so that nothing could be more prudent or well-timed that this
ideal aristocratic connection. Jack was a good fellow, a dear boy; and
he added to his apparent amiabilities now by reiterating counsels of
kindness and silence towards "poor dear sister Maria, whom he had been
making the scape-goat all this time;" after which done, our stock-jobber
feigned a pressing engagement with some fashionable friends, and left
his father to ruminate upon his worth in lonely admiration.
Well; if that clever and gratuitous lie was not another "bone," I am at
a loss to know what could be a "bone" to such a hound: therefore it
appears that Dillaway had three of them at least to gladden him in
solitude; and he went on revealing to wonder-stricken angels, and to us,
the secrets of his crafty soul, as he thus soliloquized:
"Yes, marry the fools first, and then for spoils at leisure; it won't be
easy though, she's so consummate filial, and he so bloated up with
honour. They'll never wed, I'm clear, unless the governor's by to bless
'em; and as to managing that, and the cutting-adrift scheme too, one
kills the other. How the deuce to do it? Eh--do I see a light?"
He did. A light lurid sulphurous gleam upon the midnight of his mind
seemed to show the way before him, as wisp-fire in a marsh. He did see a
light, and its character was this:
Quite aware of his mother's tranquil hopefulness, and that his kind good
sister was ingenuous as the day, he soon apprehended the state of
affairs; and, resolving to increase those misunderstandings on all
sides, he quickly perceived that he could triumph in the keen
Machiavellian policy, "_divide et impera_." The plan became more obvious
as he calmly thought it out. Evidently his first step must be to
ingratiate himself with both Henry and Maria, as the sympathizing
brother, a very easy task among such charitable fools: number two should
be to persuade them, as the mother did, that Sir Thomas, generally a
reserved unsocial man at home (and that in especial to Maria), was very
nervous at the thought of losing his dear daughter, and (while he
acquiesced in the common fate of parents and the usual way of the world)
begged that his coming bereavement might be obtruded on him as little as
possible--Mr. Clements always to avoid him, and Maria to hold her
tongue: number three, to amuse his father all the while by the prospect
of his own high alliance, so as effectually to hoodwink him from what
was going on: and, number four, to send him up to Yorkshire a week hence
(on some fool's errand to inquire after the imaginary countess's
imaginary mortgages), leaving behind him an autograph epistle (which our
John well knew how to write), recommending "that the ceremony be
performed immediately and in his absence, to spare his feelings on the
spot," mentioning "son John as his worthy substitute to give dear Maria
away," and enclosing them at once his "blessing and a hundred pound note
to help them on their honey-moon."
"John Dillaway, if craft be a virtue, thou art an archangel: but if
Heaven's chief requirement is the heart, thou art very like a
devil--very. If selfishness deserves the meed of praise, who more
honourable than thou art? But if a heartless man can never reach to
happiness, I know who will live to curse the hour of his birth, and is
doomed to perish miserably."
It was a clever scheme, and had unscrupulous hands to work it. Mystified
by quiet Lady Dillaway as our lovers had been from the first, entirely
unsuspicious of all guile, and rejoicing in their brother's marvellous
amiability, never surely were such happy days; always together while the
knight was at his counting-house, they gladly acquiesced in his
beautifully paternal nervousness; it was a delightful trait of character
in the dear old man; and a very respectable proof that love is keen-eyed
enough to believe what it wishes, but is stone-blind to any thing that
might possibly counteract its hopes. Then again, the mother was a close
ally; for having set her quiet heart upon the match, Lady Dillaway at
once encouraged all John's sympathetic scheme, on the prudent principle
of getting the young couple inextricably married first, and then
obliging her lord to be reconciled afterwards to what he could not help.
Sir Thomas himself, poor blinkered creature, was full of the most
aristocratical and wealthy fancies, and only yearned to inspect the
acres of his future honourable grand-children. He was, from these
fanciful causes, unusually affable and indulgent to Maria; spoke so
kindly always that she was all but dissolving thrice a-day; and, from
his constant reveries about the countess, appeared perpetually to be
brooding over dear Maria's soon approaching loss. Poor girl! more than
once she had determined to give it all up, and make her father happy by
serving him still in single blessedness: but then, how could she break
dear Henry's heart, as well as her own? No, no: they should live very
near to Finsbury square, and be in and out constantly, and papa should
never miss her: how delightful was all this!
As for John himself, (our heartless model-man, strange contrast to
Maria's perfect charity!) he chuckled hugely as his scheme now ripened
fast. He had long been putting all things in train for the wedding
to-morrow. Every body knew it except Sir Thomas who--what between Jack's
prudent watchfulness, his habitual counting-house hours, his usually
unsocial silence, and his now asserted wish for "not one word upon the
subject,"--was at once kept in total ignorance of all; and yet, as
ambassadorial John constantly gave out to Clements and Maria, in an
amiable nervous state of natural acquiescence. Next day, then, the
besotted father was about to be packed post for Yorkshire; the important
letter, with its enclosed bank note, was already written and sealed, as
like the governor's hand as possible; a license had been long ago
provided, and the clergyman bespoke, by the brotherly officiousness of
John; neither Henry Clements, who was too delicate, too unsuspecting for
prudent business-papers, nor Maria, whose heart was never likely to have
conceived the thought, had even once alluded to a settlement; Lady
Dillaway was lying, as her wont was, on her habitual sofa, in tranquil
ecstasy, at to-morrow morning's wedding: and Holy Providence, for wise
purposes no doubt, had seen fit to aid a villain in his deep-laid
treacherous designs.
The Wednesday dawned: Sir Thomas was to be off early, poor man, all agog
for right honourable acres; and Maria could no longer restrain the
expression of her glad and grateful feelings. Up she got by six, threw
herself in her kind dear father's way; and though, to spare his
feelings, she said not a word about the marriage, prayed him on her
knees for a blessing. The startled parent, believing all this frantic
show of feeling was sufficiently to be accounted for by his own long and
no doubt dangerous journey, blessed her as devoutly as ever he could;
and when the carriage drove away, left her in his study, overcome with
joy, affection, and admiration of his fine heart, exquisite
sensibilities, and generous feelings. Then, as a crowning-stone to all
the bliss, if any lingering doubt existed in the mind of Clements, who
had more than once expressed dislike at Sir Thomas's silent and
unsatisfying sympathy--the letter--the letter, whereof kind brother
John, secretly initiated, had some days forewarned them of its
probability--that letter, which explained at once all a father's kind
anxieties, and made up for all his cold reserve, was found on Sir
Thomas's own table! How amiable, how beautifully sensitive, how liberal
too! Lady Dillaway plumed herself in a whispering transport upon her
just appreciation of the father's better feelings; a kinder heart
manifestly never existed than her husband's, though he did take strange
methods of proving it: the bridesmaids, two daughters of a friend and
neighbour, privy to the coming mystery three days, approved highly of so
unobtrusive an old gentleman: Maria was all pantings, blushings,
weepings, and rejoicings; Henry Clements, handsome, pale, and agitated;
perhaps, misgiving too, and a little displeased at the father's absence;
however, Mr. John Dillaway gave away the bride with a most paternal air;
and, just as Sir Thomas was changing horses at Huntingdon, our innocent
lovers were indissolubly married.