straw hat with a bright ribbon, a blue and red "blazer," white flannel
trousers, and tan boots. Thus attired he spent much of his time in the
Crystal Palace, choosing undesirable friends at the different stalls and
"growing blue devils under glass," as he tersely put it.
*CHAPTER XV.*
_*SUSAN MARKS.*_
I may say at once that the police never found grandpapa. Neither Le Coq
nor Edgar Allen Poe’s amateur would have done so, for the simple reason
that my grandparent was growing younger at the rate of one year every
five weeks or so; and though there is not much difference between one
year and the next in adult life, yet when we deal with the period of
adolescence, great changes become visible in brief periods. He was
about five-and-twenty when we went to Upper Norwood, and two-and-twenty
when we left that desirable neighbourhood, after a residence of about
three months.
"You look your age; there’s no doubt about that, Martha," he said to me
once, in a very uncalled-for way.
"So do most respectable people," I answered sharply. "We can’t all go
backwards. The terms wouldn’t suit everybody."
"You needn’t be personal," he answered; "and you needn’t lose your
temper. I say you look your age, and more than your age; and I’ll tell
you why----"
He broke off and tapped a bottle significantly. "Go your own way, of
course, but don’t say nobody ever tried to save you. Don’t say your
grandfather didn’t warn you in time. You were as stupid as an owl last
night when I came in. Yes, I know what you’re going to say: I had
better look to myself before I criticise other people. But, remember, I
don’t matter; my tour’s booked through. Things are different with you,
and I tell you frankly it’s a sorry sight to see an old woman of your
age going down the hill so fast. No grandfather could view such a
spectacle calmly."
How I wept to be sure. It was the first kind, thoughtful word I had
ever heard from him since the commencement of the New Scheme. For
several days afterwards his manner quite changed. He devoted himself to
me, and, amongst other things, purchased me two dozen bottles of
non-alcoholic bitter beer, and a book of intemperate temperance
addresses.
All too soon, however, I discovered the reasons for this sudden outburst
of affection. Dear grandpapa began to feel that he could not get on
without me, and he had another little affair in hand.
I found a morocco case in his room one morning. It contained a very
exquisite gold bracelet. He had been late overnight, and I had taken
his breakfast up to him. The parcel with the bracelet came on the
preceding evening while he was out. He had opened it on returning and
left it open. As he was asleep when I took in his morning meal, I had
time to examine the trinket. I looked at the costly toy, and then at
grandpapa reposing peacefully and sweetly, with a glow of health and
youth on his face. He lived out of doors now, and spent most of his
time at the Palace. Of course the bracelet spoke louder than words.
He awoke, saw what I had seen, sat up, ate three eggs, much toast, and
other things, then made a clean breast of his latest entanglement.
"It’s the purest, truest attachment--my first genuine love, so to speak,
and my last. And she’s a girl to whom I can tell my secret; I feel
that. Susan would believe anything. She will see me through the next
two years or so, and then she will be left free to marry again. Yes, we
are engaged. Socially it is a bit of a come-down from Mabel Talbot, but
I don’t want to found a family or go in for a swagger connection. The
girl loves me, and that’s quite good enough for me."
"Who is she, grandpapa?"
"Nobody; at least I don’t know anything about her family. She doesn’t
ever mention them, and I make no enquiries. I don’t want to be within
the radius of another mother-in-law again at my time of life--I know
them. We’re going to be married privately, and then run out to America.
Susan keeps a stall at the Crystal Palace. She’s a model girl, and
sells chocolate and sweetstuff generally. You might go and see her
without saying anything. Just stop in a casual way and hear her talk.
Buy a pennyworth of something and study the girl a little. She’s a
perfect treasure of a woman in my opinion. I’ve reached an age now when
goodness outweighs beauty and everything. But she is beautiful too.
She hangs out under that statue of the lady and the horse--lady and
horse both dressed alike. You’ll find her there, and you’ll recognise
her if you go this afternoon by this bracelet, which she’ll have on by
that time. Draw her out and you’ll find I’m right. She would cling to
me and comfort my declining years. I shall tell her I’m going away to
London for the afternoon; then you will have it all to yourself and see
what a girl she is."
I obeyed him, and that afternoon visited the Palace, found Lady Godiva
without difficulty, and Susan Marks selling chocolate below. I saw the
bracelet immediately. It was on the wrist of a big, dark girl, very
showily dressed. She had bold, black eyes, that twinkled at the men as
they passed, and a hard voice, which she endeavoured to make seductive
as she lured visitors to the chocolate. She was talking to a young man
when I arrived, and kept me waiting a considerable time. But I did not
mind that; I was listening to some interesting conversation.
"Yes, it ain’t a bad bangle; my little mash, Dan Dolphin, gave it to me.
He’s fairly gone on me--that’s straight. I’ve got fal-lals to the tune
of three or four hundred quid out of him, and a promise of marriage."
"Promise what you like, Sue, but no kid. Mind what you said. I ain’t
jealous, but I’m No. 1, mind. He’s only No. 2."
"No. 2! He’s No. 20 more like. You’re a fool, Tom, and you _are_
jealous. And I like to see you angry. You know well enough, Tommy,
that I never loved none but you. The fools come and the fools go, but
Tom goes on for ever. This little chappie ought to be good for a
hundred or two more--then we’ll be married, you and me, and I’ll cut the
chocolate and the butterflies."
Had they arranged their conversation expressly for my benefit, neither
could have made a more conclusive, satisfactory, and at the same time
disgraceful statement.
My blood boiled when I thought of my grandfather’s boyish passion being
wasted on this minx.
"What are you starin’ at?" asked the girl rudely, suddenly realising
that I was standing by the stall.
"I’m waiting to be served," I answered. "I want one of those penny
sticks of Cadbury’s chocolate, when you can make it convenient to attend
to me."
She gave me the refreshment, and I heard her utter a vulgar jest at my
expense as I turned away. But, for all that, I hastened home with a
light heart. Once more was I in a position to save grandpapa.
*CHAPTER XVI.*
_*ON THE RIVER.*_
It is not easy to describe grandpapa’s indignation when I detailed the
result of my interview with Susan Marks. I told him all about the young
man to whom she had been talking, and he recognised the youth as one
Tomkins. He had already quarrelled with Susan about him.
"But why, dear grandfather," I asked, "did you give this wretched woman
your real name?"
"It was a safe thing to do," he answered. "All the old fusses have blown
over. Besides, I should have had to give it when I married her. I
meant most honourably by the jade, and this is the result. They’re all
alike, confusion take ’em. That’s the last. I’ve done with women now.
They don’t interest me as they used to do. I shall go on amusing myself
with the cats for another six months or so, till I’m a few years
younger, but I’m blest if I ever take ’em seriously again. They’re not
worth it--excepting you. You’re a good old daisy, Martha, and I’m much
obliged to you."
Two days afterwards he gave Miss Marks a bit of his mind, and had it out
with Tomkins, down among the firework apparatus. It appears that he
punched Tomkins on the head, and then kicked him when he was down, and
finally dropped him into one of the fountains.
"After that," said grandfather, as he gleefully narrated the
circumstances to me, "I made tracks and hid among those great stone
pre-adamite beasts at the bottom of the grounds. I squirmed down
alongside of an ichthyosaurus or some such brute, and sat tight there
until dark. Then I dodged out with the crowd. But they’ll want me
to-day, so I guess we must be toddling."
We talked the matter out, and he decided to go and rent lodgings
somewhere near the river. He was now twenty-two, by the New Scheme, and
his old love for athletics had returned.
"No more tomfoolery for me," said grandfather. "I’ve passed the silly
stage now. I shall take up rowing again and join a cricket club, and
lead a quiet, wholesome life. As the end approaches so rapidly, I begin
to lose interest in worldly affairs. Let us go to the river, and I will
row you about, over the peaceful waters, under the trees, among the
swans. If I find I have kept any of my old form with the sculls, I
shall very likely enter for the ’Diamonds’ at Henley. It would be a
record for a man of nearly one hundred and eight to win ’em. But I
doubt how I should shape in these gimcrack, new-fangled wager-boats."
I encouraged his simple, boyish ambition, and we took our way to
Twickenham. Grandpapa, finding himself better and happier for the
peaceful life, actually thought once more of reformation. It was summer
time, and a sort of holy calm would settle on my beloved grandfather, as
he paddled me about the river and drew up sometimes in the cool shadows
of overhanging trees.
He was a handsome boy of one-and-twenty now. His face grew tanned by
the sun. He wore a picturesque green and yellow "blazer," with a blue
handkerchief round his waist and a big sunflower embroidered on his grey
felt hat. He began to get quite simple in speech, and his interest
revolved about the river races and the cricket field. He seemed to
forget the past, and I often prayed that the past would forget him. But
grandpapa had sown the wind and the whirlwind was beginning to spring
up. Time did not fly as quickly with the world as it seemed to do with
us. The young fellow with his simple athletic interests and ambitions,
training quietly for the Diamond Sculls, was not destined to escape the
fruits of those many indiscretions committed in his maturer years; and
it is hardly the least of my griefs and regrets that, in a measure, I
was the cause of keeping grandpapa’s name before the world, and before
divers more or less malicious women, who refused to forget his past
relationships with them. I thought that by the quiet waters of the
Thames, hidden in snug but comfortable lodgings at Twickenham, we should
have escaped notice; but I soon found my mistake, for the river is a
highway, a pleasure ground (so to speak) whereon all meet.
Representatives of every London suburb pass and repass; respectable and
questionable rub shoulders in every lock, exchange repartees at every
bend, drift side by side in every backwater.
We were out one day after lunch, and I, steering carelessly, nearly ran
into a boatload of ladies and gentlemen. Grandpapa reprimanded me, and
apologised to the other party. Then somebody said:
"Positively it is--it is Miss Dolphin."
The speaker was Mrs. Bangley-Brown. She insisted on stopping and asking
after grandpapa; and the old man, like a fool, forgetting the altered
conditions, answered:
"_I’m_ all right. Glad to see you again. Jove! how well the gals look.
And you as blooming as a four-year-old. D----d if I don’t think you’re
going backwards too!"
Mrs. Bangley-Brown glared at the youth, and grandpapa, with wonderful
readiness, explained himself.
"Awfully sorry. Thought you must know me. My pals call me
’grandfather,’ ’cause I’m a bit old-fashioned. No offence meant, none
taken I hope."
She turned from him with disgust, and the two girls in the boat and some
young men looked at my escort and tittered.
"Where is your grandfather?" said Mrs. Bangley-Brown to me, leaning over
the edge of the boat and whispering. "I have been wanting his address
for five years. Perhaps you can favour me with it. There is something
fatal about the name, I think. I have heard it often of late,
associated in every case with some broken-hearted woman."
"He treated you badly, I know," I answered, also under my breath. "It
was a bitter grief to me at the time. But things are better as they
are. He would not have made you happy."
"Probably not," she answered bitterly, "but he might have made me
comfortable. And it is not too late. We need not discuss his conduct.
I know what an English jury would think of it. Give me his address, if
you please."
"Don’t do anything of the sort, Martha," said grandpapa, in a great
state of excitement. He had overheard Mrs. Bangley-Brown’s last remark,
and now turned to her.
"I’m only a youngster," he began craftily, "but I know the rights of
that story. I heard it from the old man, and it don’t do you any
credit. You’re an awful designing woman, and ought to know better. I
daresay you’ve been after a dozen old fogeys since that."
"You little horror!" screamed Mrs. Bangley-Brown, "if I could get to you
I’d box your ears."
She rose and made the boat shake, and her daughters implored her to sit
down, or they would all be in the river.
"Yes, you’re a bad old lady--a regular old fossil-hunter, and no
mistake," said grandpapa, shaking his head at her. "Shocking example
for the gals!" Then he began to row away.
"Follow them! Don’t lose sight of them!" cried the angry woman; but
grandpapa was a fine oar and had a light load. He simply laughed at
their efforts to keep pace with him, and fired off all sorts of jokes at
the pursuers. Finally he spurted when near the "rollers," had our boat
over them in a twinkling, and setting to work, bustled me up to Kingston
with extraordinary celerity. After dark we paddled quietly home again.
"It is a warning to me," said grandpapa. "In future if we meet old
friends, I am your young nephew from Oxford; and your grandfather,
should they ask after him, has been dead for some years. I wish that
was true."
*CHAPTER XVII.*
_*PHYLLIS.*_
Misfortunes never come singly. After the meeting with Mrs. Bangley-Brown
I was nervous of going on the river at all, but upon the following
Sunday grandpapa persuaded me to accompany him. Most young men would
have chosen the society of their own sex, but grandfather was loyal to
his old granddaughter; and I will say that with regard to my growing
weakness for stimulant, he did everything in his power to shame me out
of it. I tried my best, but alcohol had become a necessity, and, as I
have said elsewhere, was the only thing I could rely upon to keep my
nerves steady at a crisis.
To return, we proceeded that Sunday to Teddington Lock, when suddenly,
alongside of us, waiting for the lock to open, appeared Susan Marks and
the young man Tomkins. The woman recognised us both instantly, and
proclaimed the fact.
"Lor! if that ain’t that little beast Dolphin! Look, Tommy; and it was
that old Guy Fawkes as ’eard me ’n you talking. She split an’ told him.
But it shan’t wash; I swear it shan’t. He’s promised marriage, you know
that; and all the old grandmothers in the world shan’t save him!"
"Who are you, you brazen creature? I don’t know you--never saw you
before in my life," said grandfather, calmly.
"Don’t you talk to me like that, you wretch," bawled the virago, "or
I’ll come over and wring your neck."
"Poor soul! Take her out of the sun and send for a medical man," said
my grandfather.
Then Tomkins spoke. He was a small, weak person.
"You can’t bounce it like that, you know," he said. "You’re Dan
Dolphin, engaged to Miss Marks; I ought to know you well enough; I’ve
had a summons out against you for three months. You’d better give me
your address, and not make a scene here."
"You’re labouring under a case of mistaken identity," said grandfather,
not taking any notice of the intimation to give his address. "And as for
that beauty there, if she’s engaged to me or some other fellow, what are
you doing with her here on the river? Now row away, and try and behave
yourselves. I’m afraid you’re no better than you ought to be, either of
you."
In this cool manner, with a quiet air of experience and superiority, did
grandfather cow the man Tomkins. The woman Marks, however, was not
cowed. She shook her fist and raved and disgraced her sex and made a
scene; but grandfather only laughed and proceeded. As he truly
remarked, they had got "precious little change" out of him.
Not less than an hour later, I saw another of grandpapa’s old flames;
one whom I had never met before. The Princess Hopskipschoff, with a
party of younger sons and music-hall artistes, passed us in a
steam-launch. Grandpapa was very excited, and his admiration for her,
which waxed at forty-five and dwindled to nothing at thirty, now at
twenty-one, burst out anew.
"A glorious woman--a goddess, by Jove! How sickening she must find the
twaddle of those boys!" said grandpapa. "Ah, she doesn’t know, as she
glances at me from under her dark lids, that the young fellow in the
yellow and green ’blazer’ was once engaged to marry her. How sweet and
fresh she is still! I wonder if she’ll be at Henley?"
Then he sighed and caught a "crab" in the wash of the steamer. I was
amazed to hear him talk thus, and ventured to expostulate.
"The big woman under the red-and-white parasol? Why, grandpapa, she’s
forty, and painted up to the eyes!"
"Don’t blaspheme," he said. "Don’t discuss her. You needn’t be jealous
of the princess. To think that she has never forgotten me, that she
seeks me yet! But her dream would be rather rudely shattered if she
knew. Well, well, let us talk of something else. What fiend made me
leave her? To think of all I lost!"
From which I have since drawn the curious conclusion that very young men
and quite middle-aged ones are often attracted by the same sort of
women.
"A fellow cannot get on without woman’s love," said grandpapa, suddenly,
after a long silence. "At least, some fellows can’t--I can’t for one."
"A mother’s love is what you will soon be needing, dear one. I shall do
the best I can."
"Bosh!" he said angrily. "That’s not love at all; it’s instinct. And I
don’t want you to fuss over me when I become a child, mind that. Just
keep me clean and tidy, and give me toys and tell me Bible stories. But
don’t pretend you’re my mother then, because that’s outraging the laws
of Nature, and people will laugh at you. I’m not talking of those
matters now; I’m alluding to love."
"You said, when you left Upper Norwood, that you had done with that for
ever."
"Yes, very likely; young men say foolish things. You can’t help fate.
Marriages are made in heaven wholesale, though I admit they never
guarantee the quality, and turn out a lot of goods that don’t wear. You
observe that lock ahead? We’re going to lunch there. The lock-keeper is
called Rose, and he has a daughter named Phyllis. She’s the daintiest,
most exquisite, human thing I ever saw. No brains, thank God--I’ve had
enough of clever women--but the disposition of an angel, eyes like grey
rainclouds with sunshine in ’em, hair brown, lily-white hands, tiny
feet, and everything complete. What’s more, the girl understands me."
"I may assume, then, grandfather, that you are engaged?"
"I will not deceive you, Martha; we are."
"How far has it gone?"
"To the ’second time of asking.’ I mean business this journey. We’re
to be married after Henley. I didn’t tell you, because it would only
have worried you, and, I fear, make you take kinder than ever to
stimulant. I’ve arranged it all. We’re going to Scotland. Then, when I
get a bit younger, I shall leave her a letter with all my money in it,
and clear out and make away with myself. I was only pretending just
now. I couldn’t stand childhood again, not even with you, let alone as
a married man. I want you to be friends with her, and live with her
after I am gone."
His voice broke, and, at the same moment we reached the lock.
*CHAPTER XVIII.*
_*I FORBID THE BANNS.*_
"There you are!" said a soft, musical voice above us, and glancing up I
saw Phyllis Rose. She was in truth a beautiful girl, dressed in her
Sunday clothes, looking the pink of health and happiness.
"I’ve watched you ever so long, dear Dan; and this is your dear, dear
grandmother? Oh, I hope she will let me love her for your sake."
She kissed me, and, I confess, my heart warmed to her. She was as
pretty and tender a little soul as ever lived to make sunshine for other
people. I soon found that she worshipped the ground my grandfather trod
upon. She slipped her little hand into his as she walked up to her
father’s cottage, and talked pleasantly and happily with a London
accent.
At her modest habitation an excellent meal and a bottle of very passable
red wine were prepared. The girl’s parents seemed delighted to see us,
and welcomed me in a most hearty, but at the same time respectful
manner. I tried to banish the real, fatal aspect of the position and
live in the passing hour. Grandpapa seemed very cheerful.
"Were the banns called again to-day?" he asked.
"That they was," said Mr. Rose; "and Phyllis, the little silly, got as
red as a peony, and her mother, no better, blushed like a school-girl,
too. That’s the second time of asking. Don’t you have no more fruit
pie, Dan. Remember Henley."
But my grandfather explained he had not gone into regular training yet.
"Sam Sturgess and I begin hard work together on Monday week," he said.
"We’re both very fit, and if I don’t pull off the ’Diamonds,’ I ought to
go near winning the ’double sculls’ with Sam. It’s a month next
Monday."
The young things went off together presently, and I had a thimbleful of
cold punch with Mr. and Mrs. Rose, and chatted to them. It was seldom I
got an opportunity to talk to my fellow-creatures now, and I must admit
that I enjoyed doing so. They were quite willing to listen, and tried
to turn our talk to grandfather; but I said as little on that head as
possible.
"What d’ you think of her?" my grandfather asked, as he rowed me home in
the evening.
"She is a pearl of a girl. But it must not be, grandfather. You
contemplate a most wicked action. I pray you abandon the idea. Stop
till Henley, if you must; then let us hurry away. We can write and
break it off, and send her a present in money. They are poor, and it
would be very welcome."
"You may talk yourself inside out, Martha, but it won’t alter me," he
said, with quiet determination. "This is the only girl I’ve ever really
loved, and the Devil himself won’t stop me. For that matter, he’s the
last who ’d try to, no doubt."
"It is necessary to have your banns called in your own parish as well,
grandpapa."
"I know, I know. I wasn’t married three times without getting a pretty
good knowledge of the ropes. My banns have been called twice at St.
Jude’s. You never go to church now, or you’d have heard ’em."
"St. Jude’s is not much patronised. The service is long and low, and
the church half empty."
"So much the better."
Then he changed the subject, and as the moon rose and made the river
look romantic, grandpapa tried to invent a bit of poetry about Phyllis,
and failed.
"Oh, Phyllis mine, come let us twine our arms about each other’s necks,"
he began. Then he turned to me and said--
"Put that flask away, Martha; you think I can’t see you, but I can.
’Our arms about each other’s necks.’ Then, let me see, what rhymes with
’necks’?"
"Cheques," I answered, humouring him.
"Ah, that would come in if this was an ordinary, modern sort of love
match, but it isn’t. I want something pastoral or idyllic. Let me see,
where ’d I got to? ’Come, Phyllis mine, and let us twine our arms about
each other’s necks.’ Wrecks, decks, specks, flecks, pecks. Necks is
’off.’ Let’s try ’each other’s waists.’ Waste, raced, paste, taste,
graced, laced, haste----"
Then he ran into the bank and abandoned verse, and fell back upon lurid
prose, which he applied to me and my management of the rudder lines.
"What d’ you think you’re doing, you muddle-headed old mummy? Sit
straight and look at the river, not at the moon. I’ll make you sign the
pledge to-morrow, blessed if I don’t! You’ll have more water with your
whisky than you want in a moment. Oh, Lord! never again--never. Pull
the right string--the right. Holy mouse! On Sunday evening too!"
Finally I gave up the lines, being really far from well, and he
unshipped the rudder and made me sit in the bottom of the boat. I don’t
know what possessed me, but I felt quite happy in spite of my passing
dizziness, and when a boat went by us, with a young man in it playing on
a banjo and singing, I sang too. It was the first time I had done so for
forty years.