Late on the evening of the day after the marriage in London, Markworth
and his charge--lately his "sister," now _Madame sa femme_--arrived at
the half-seaport town, half-fashionable watering place of
_Havre-de-Grace_, at the mouth of the slowly running Seine, tawny as the
yellow Tiber.
Susan had not been brought to the Continent without serious prior
deliberation.
Markworth, in the first place, wished to avoid observation at the
present time; and he was so well-known in London, that he thought it
would be folly to remain there any longer than necessary; and, in the
second place, he wanted to secure a quiet retreat wherein to lodge
Susan.
He determined, of course, to keep his hold on her until her friends were
assured of the marriage; and as she might be traced, and he, perhaps,
arrested for abducting the girl, before he was able to lay a legal claim
to her inheritance, the best plan for him to pursue was to "go across
the water," as he expressed it, for awhile--as, indeed, a good many
other gentlemen, who have sympathising friends amongst the trading
interests of the great city of Babylon-the-Less have done, and annually
do still.
What place so convenient, he thought, as Havre? So to Havre he
accordingly ran over the next day, and in that pleasant little town he
sat down awhile, to consider what his next movement should be, as he had
to study each move carefully. He had plenty of money for present
expenses; he had "the goose;" the only thing now to do was to get the
"golden eggs." As he had gone so far, he certainly was not going to be
baulked now, he thought. And his chances must have been good, or that
cautious old Jew, Solomonson, would not have "backed him." He had only
got to play his cards properly, and look about him awhile. That was
all! Yes, that was all.
He could not have chosen a more convenient and comfortable place in
France, all things considered, for his purpose.
Perhaps, an exceptional reader--I say "exceptional" advisedly--may have
stopped at Havre after crossing over from Southampton--stopped a
sufficient time to learn and know the place, for the generality of
travellers who adopt this route to Paris, usually go on straight to
their destination without breaking their journey at this picturesque old
town, which is a sort of "half-way house" on the direct road. If so,
the "exceptional reader" will bear me out in my observations on the
subject and place.
Havre is like Liverpool and Boulogne rolled into one harmonious or
inharmonious whole. It has all the shipping and maritime population--
although perhaps the latter are more gaily dressed--of the great
entrepot on the Mersey, with all the thorough Gallic attributes of a
French watering place.
Down in the town, Havre proper, it is all trade and bustle as befits a
great commercial port; up amidst the heights of Ingouville, it is
fashionable and fantastic, with its trim white terraces and green, gay
Venetian blinds, and its lovely view of the bay beyond. Havre is really
not considered half as much as it ought to be, and forms a much more
enjoyable spot for a holiday than many of these fearfully uneventful and
racketty fashionable resorts, which are generally patronised by English
tourists on the Continent.
Liverpool it is like, with its muddy Seine--like the other river that
runs between Birkenhead and its sister city--and its bustling streets
and quays. Liverpool, with a touch of Ratcliffe Highway, on account of
the parrots and foreign birds, mostly South American, that you see
troops of sailors marching about with, besides the strong touch of the
military element which one more frequently observes by the side of Tower
Hill, than in the parallel city of trade in Lancashire. A French
Liverpool, very Frenchified, and jovial and gay, with that foreign dash
of sprightliness and _insouciance_ which is never seen in England.
Here Markworth hired lodgings, in the _Rue Montmartre_, of a stout,
middle-aged Frenchwoman and her little husband: the latter being a
_marchand_ of something or the other; and by no means the "better half"
of the two.
Susan was as pleased as a child with the novelty of everything around
her; and if she had been changed for the better at The Poplars, the
change was twice as noticeable now that she had shut out from her all
the past with its associations.
Every little item in her new life tended to increase the improvement in
her mental organisation; besides which Markworth was kind and attentive
to her, even more so than he had been before.
Instead of the dingy old melancholy house in Sussex, she was in a bright
little French cottage. The old dark rooms were exchanged for a simple
_apartement bien garni_, with its tiled floor, and those wonderfully
simple accessories which complete the mobilier of our friends on the
other side; the half dozen extraordinary-looking straight backed chairs,
the round table with its matting beneath, the elaborate fire-place with
its porcelain belongings, and the mantel-piece with inevitable gilt
clock and china shepherdesses.
The fat landlady was very kind, although she did not speak a word of
English; still her husband prided himself on his knowledge of our
language, a knowledge nearly limited to that of the Frenchman's of poor
Albert Smith's acquaintance, who saying "Ah, Ya-as! I spik Englise--
portair--bier--rosbif--God dam!" there wound up the catalogue of his
accomplishments.
But Mere Cliquelle was kind in her way. She understood from Markworth
that "Madame" was very delicate; and as she had a separate room and
looked very pale, Mere Cliquelle tried to make her very comfortable by
always nodding to her, and smiling whenever she came into the room,
which she was constantly doing to bring Madame sundry little pet-dishes
or plats of her own _cuisine_ and bonbons _ad infinitum_.
Susan was soon very happy, and as gay as a bird in her new home. She
had been sensible enough before; but she was now light-hearted as well.
Markworth devoted himself to her. He would take her out constantly for
walks along the bustling quays, where Susan liked to watch the gaily
dressed sailors, and the ships and tiny craft in the harbour. Every
sailor on landing seemed to bring home half a dozen parrots or crimson
birds of the tropics. You never can see such a lot of "imported" birds,
as the Americans say, anywhere else, as at Havre.
Susan and Markworth were quite a study for the simple French couple with
whom they abode. They thought "Madame" so beautiful and affectionate;
and Monsieur, "_Mon Dieu! un galant homme_, and _so_ handsome:--a rich
Milor Anglais, no doubt."
Thus a month had passed by; and Markworth thought that the time for him
to act once more had arrived. His training had not been lost on Susan.
Thanks to his indefatigable efforts she was now fully restored, and she
would be the best witness he could have in court should he be forced to
go to law in order to gain his rights to her money. He had indeed
devoted himself to the girl's cure especially for this object, but he
had also been led on by a species of real zeal in the case. He had seen
from the first how easily Susan, by proper influences, could be led to
regain her mind, and had steadily persevered in that direction.
If anyone else had spent as much time and trouble on her long ago, Susan
would never have required his aid, but she had been neglected, left
alone in that old house; and Doctor Jolly, with all his cleverness as a
medical practitioner, had not understood her case.
Markworth was proud of his triumph, apart from the consideration that
his own well-being was interested in Susan's recovery. He was proud
that his hand had wrought the cure; and besides, he was really concerned
about the girl on her own account. Her entire faith and confidence, and
her blind worship, touched even him, while her love had made him have a
friendly regard for her, which might or might not grow deeper.
There were one or two good points in his character, as is the case with
all bad men. He was not brutal, or naturally bad hearted, but at the
same time he was careful of his own interests. If he had got Susan's
money, for example, he would not then have turned her adrift. She loved
him like a faithful dog, and it was not in his nature to kick a dog
away. He was kind to her because it suited his purpose: it was
necessary to her cure, and besides he had no reason to be otherwise.
At the end of a month, therefore, he determined to make some move.
He had seen an advertisement for the lost girl in the "Times," which he
had given directions to have sent over to him here. The advertisement
had appeared a very few days after the date on which he had removed
Susan from The Poplars, and had been continued repeatedly since; but
that did not flurry him much. He knew he could not be traced, and as
the had no feelings of compunction for the anxiety which might be
occasioned by her disappearance, he determined to suit his own time when
to make the news known of her safety and present condition.
He was certain that Clara Kingscott would not give any information about
him, as she was a clever woman, and was obliged on her own account not
to implicate herself in the abduction of the girl, and was besides
anxious to get the remainder of the money he had promised her for aiding
him; so he could afford to take his own time and play the game just as
he chose, for the cards were in his hand.
He thus let a month run, and Susan being quite happy and settled down in
their comfortable lodgings with the Mere Cliquelle in the Rue
Montmartre, he thought he would go over to London for a couple of days
or so, and set his plans to work. He also wanted more money, and that
was a potent reason for taking him.
Susan was disturbed at first on learning that he was going away, but was
as quickly consoled when he promised to be back very soon, and to bring
her brother Tom with him; that was the only anxiety she had displayed on
leaving her home. She had retained her love for her brother, and she
feared he was angry at her leaving. She was delighted consequently to
learn from Markworth, as he told her, that he was going to fetch him,
for she was not yet aware of the great interests that hung at stake upon
her.
Susan saw him preparing to start with many tears, and many directions
for him to be back soon; after which Markworth left her to the kindly
care of the Mere Cliquelle, who promised to look after her as her own
child: he then crossed the channel.
He first visited his Hebrew friend Solomonson in Chancery Lane, whereby
depositing sundry shares he had in a City Company, and giving a bond for
about five times the amount, payable on his obtaining his wife's
inheritance, he managed to obtain an advance of some hundred pounds to
carry him on until the lawsuit should be determined.
Before coming to a final settlement, Markworth bargained some time as
usual with the Jew, but had at last to accede to his terms; as it would
have been difficult for him to get money from anyone else without
stronger security. Indeed, the Jew only trusted him now because he was
in a heavy venture, and because also, Markworth had always behaved
honourably to him in his dealings before--and there had been many and
various between the parties. But he would require sharp payment would
the Jew with all his trust, and should he lose his case, old Solomonson
would be the first to be down upon him.
He was apparently, he reflected, spending Susan's fortune before he got
it; so he determined to set about securing it now as soon as possible.
Having already perused several times the advertisement for Susan, he
knew well where the lawyer's offices were, where he was to apply, and he
made up his mind to go there first before--as he called it--"tackling
the old dowager."
To Bedford Row, he accordingly bent his steps; and he laughed jocosely,
as he went up the staircase towards Messrs. Trump and Sequence's
offices. "What a capital joke it will be," he said to himself, "asking
them for that `Fifty Pounds Reward.' I'm hanged if I don't do it;" and
he walked in accordingly to startle Mr Trump.
Volume 2, Chapter III.