Mrs. Parker's Sorrows
The end of February had come, and as far as Mrs. Lopez knew she was
to start for Guatemala in a month's time. And yet there was so much
of indecision in her husband's manner, and apparently so little done
by him in regard to personal preparation, that she could hardly bring
herself to feel certain that she would have to make the journey. From
day to day her father would ask her whether she had made her intended
purchases, and she would tell him that she had still postponed the
work. Then he would say no more, for he himself was hesitating,
doubtful what he would do, and still thinking that when at last the
time should come, he would buy his daughter's release at any price
that might be demanded. Mr. Walker, the attorney, had as yet been
able to manage nothing. He had seen Lopez more than once, and had
also seen Mr. Hartlepod. Mr. Hartlepod had simply told him that he
would be very happy to register the shares on behalf of Lopez as soon
as the money was paid. Lopez had been almost insolent in his bearing.
"Did Mr. Wharton think," he asked, "that he was going to sell his
wife for £5000?" "I think you'll have to raise your offer," Mr.
Walker had said to Mr. Wharton. That was all very well. Mr. Wharton
was willing enough to raise his offer. He would have doubled his
offer could he thereby have secured the annihilation of Lopez. "I
will raise it if he will go without his wife, and give her a written
assurance that he will never trouble her again." But the arrangement
was one which Mr. Walker found it very difficult to carry out. So
things went on till the end of February had come.
And during all this time Lopez was still resident in Mr. Wharton's
house. "Papa," she said to him one day, "this is the cruellest thing
of all. Why don't you tell him that he must go?"
"Because he would take you with him."
"It would be better so. I could come to see you."
"I did tell him to go,--in my passion. I repented of it instantly,
because I should have lost you. But what did my telling matter to
him? He was very indignant, and yet he is still here."
"You told him to go?"
"Yes;--but I am glad that he did not obey me. There must be an end to
this soon, I suppose."
"I do not know, papa."
"Do you think that he will not go?"
"I feel that I know nothing, papa. You must not let him stay here
always, you know."
"And what will become of you when he goes?"
"I must go with him. Why should you be sacrificed also? I will tell
him that he must leave the house. I am not afraid of him, papa."
"Not yet, my dear;--not yet. We will see."
At this time Lopez declared his purpose one day of dining at the
Progress, and Mr. Wharton took advantage of the occasion to remain
at home with his daughter. Everett was now expected, and there was a
probability that he might come on this evening. Mr. Wharton therefore
returned from his chambers early; but when he reached the house he
was told that there was a woman in the dining-room with Mrs. Lopez.
The servant did not know what woman. She had asked to see Mrs. Lopez,
and Mrs. Lopez had gone down to her.
The woman in the dining-room was Mrs. Parker. She had called at the
house at about half-past five, and Emily had at once come down when
summoned by tidings that a "lady" wanted to see her. Servants have a
way of announcing a woman as a lady, which clearly expresses their
own opinion that the person in question is not a lady. So it had
been on the present occasion, but Mrs. Lopez had at once gone to her
visitor. "Oh, Mrs. Parker, I am so glad to see you. I hope you are
well."
"Indeed, then, Mrs. Lopez, I am very far from well. No poor woman,
who is the mother of five children, was ever farther from being well
than I am."
"Is anything wrong?"
"Wrong, ma'am! Everything is wrong. When is Mr. Lopez going to pay my
husband all the money he has took from him?"
"Has he taken money?"
"Taken! he has taken everything. He has shorn my husband as bare as a
board. We're ruined, Mrs. Lopez, and it's your husband has done it.
When we were at Dovercourt, I told you how it was going to be. His
business has left him, and now there is nothing. What are we to do?"
The woman was seated on a chair, leaning forward with her two hands
on her knees. The day was wet, the streets were half mud and half
snow, and the poor woman, who had made her way through the slush, was
soiled and wet. "I look to you to tell me what me and my children is
to do. He's your husband, Mrs. Lopez."
"Yes, Mrs. Parker; he is my husband."
"Why couldn't he let Sexty alone? Why should the like of him be
taking the bread out of my children's mouths? What had we ever done
to him? You're rich."
"Indeed I am not, Mrs. Parker."
"Yes, you are. You're living here in a grand house, and your father's
made of money. You'll know nothing of want, let the worst come to
the worst. What are we to do, Mrs. Lopez? I'm the wife of that poor
creature, and you're the wife of the man that has ruined him. What
are we to do, Mrs. Lopez?"
"I do not understand my husband's business, Mrs. Parker."
"You're one with him, ain't you? If anybody had ever come to me and
said my husband had robbed him, I'd never have stopped till I knew
the truth of it. If any woman had ever said to me that Parker had
taken the bread out of her children's mouths, do you think that I'd
sit as you are sitting? I tell you that Lopez has robbed us,--has
robbed us, and taken everything."
"What can I say, Mrs. Parker;--what can I do?"
"Where is he?"
"He is not here. He is dining at his club."
"Where is that? I will go there and shame him before them all. Don't
you feel no shame? Because you've got things comfortable here, I
suppose it's all nothing to you. You don't care, though my children
were starving in the gutter,--as they will do."
"If you knew me, Mrs. Parker, you wouldn't speak to me like that."
"Know you! Of course I know you. You're a lady, and your father's a
rich man, and your husband thinks no end of himself. And we're poor
people, so it don't matter whether we're robbed and ruined or not.
That's about it."
"If I had anything, I'd give you all that I had."
"And he's taken to drinking that hard that he's never rightly sober
from morning to night." As she told this story of her husband's
disgrace, the poor woman burst into tears. "Who's to trust him with
business now? He's that broken-hearted that he don't know which way
to turn,--only to the bottle. And Lopez has done it all,--done it
all! I haven't got a father, ma'am, who has got a house over his
head for me and my babies. Only think if you was turned out into the
street with your babby, as I am like to be."
"I have no baby," said the wretched woman through her tears and sobs.
"Haven't you, Mrs. Lopez? Oh dear!" exclaimed the soft-hearted woman,
reduced at once to pity. "How was it then?"
"He died, Mrs. Parker,--just a few days after he was born."
"Did he now? Well, well. We all have our troubles, I suppose."
"I have mine, I know," said Emily, "and very, very heavy they are. I
cannot tell you what I have to suffer."
"Isn't he good to you?"
"I cannot talk about it, Mrs. Parker. What you tell me about yourself
has added greatly to my sorrows. My husband is talking of going
away,--to live out of England."
"Yes, at a place they call--I forget what they call it, but I heard
it."
"Guatemala,--in America."
"I know. Sexty told me. He has no business to go anywhere, while he
owes Sexty such a lot of money. He has taken everything, and now he's
going to Kattymaly!" At this moment Mr. Wharton knocked at the door
and entered the room. As he did so Mrs. Parker got up and curtseyed.
"This is my father, Mrs. Parker," said Emily. "Papa, this is Mrs.
Parker. She is the wife of Mr. Parker, who was Ferdinand's partner.
She has come here with bad news."
"Very bad news indeed, sir," said Mrs. Parker, curtseying again. Mr.
Wharton frowned, not as being angry with the woman, but feeling that
some further horror was to be told him of his son-in-law. "I can't
help coming, sir," continued Mrs. Parker. "Where am I to go if I
don't come? Mr. Lopez, sir, has ruined us root and branch,--root and
branch."
"That at any rate is not my fault," said Mr. Wharton.
"But she is his wife, sir. Where am I to go if not to where he lives?
Am I to put up with everything gone, and my poor husband in the right
way to go to Bedlam, and not to say a word about it to the grand
relations of him who did it all?"
"He is a bad man," said Mr. Wharton. "I cannot make him otherwise."
"Will he do nothing for us?"
"I will tell you all I know about him." Then Mr. Wharton did tell
her all that he knew, as to the appointment at Guatemala and the
amount of salary which was to be attached to it. "Whether he will do
anything for you, I cannot say;--I should think not, unless he be
forced. I should advise you to go to the offices of the Company in
Coleman Street and try to make some terms there. But I fear,--I fear
it will be all useless."
"Then we may starve."
"It is not her fault," said Mr. Wharton, pointing to his daughter.
"She has had no hand in it. She knows less of it all than you do."
"It is my fault," said Emily, bursting out into self-reproach,--"my
fault that I married him."
"Whether married or single he would have preyed upon Mr. Parker to
the same extent."
"Like enough," said the poor wife. "He'd prey upon anybody as he
could get a-hold of. And so, Mr. Wharton, you think that you can do
nothing for me."
"If your want be immediate I can relieve it," said the barrister.
Mrs. Parker did not like the idea of accepting direct charity, but,
nevertheless, on going away did take the five sovereigns which Mr.
Wharton offered to her.
After such an interview as that the dinner between the father and the
daughter was not very happy. She was eaten up by remorse. Gradually
she had learned how frightful was the thing she had done in giving
herself to a man of whom she had known nothing. And it was not only
that she had degraded herself by loving such a man, but that she had
been persistent in clinging to him though her father and all his
friends had told her of the danger which she was running. And now
it seemed that she had destroyed her father as well as herself! All
that she could do was to be persistent in her prayer that he would
let her go. "I have done it," she said that night, "and I could bear
it better, if you would let me bear it alone." But he only kissed
her, and sobbed over her, and held her close to his heart with his
clinging arms,--in a manner in which he had never held her in their
old happy days.
He took himself to his own rooms before Lopez returned, but she of
course had to bear her husband's presence. As she had declared to
her father more than once, she was not afraid of him. Even though
he should strike her,--though he should kill her,--she would not be
afraid of him. He had already done worse to her than anything that
could follow. "Mrs. Parker has been here to-day," she said to him
that night.
"And what had Mrs. Parker to say?"
"That you had ruined her husband."
"Exactly. When a man speculates and doesn't win of course he throws
the blame on some one else. And when he is too much of a cur to come
himself, he sends his wife."
"She says you owe him money."
"What business have you to listen to what she says? If she comes
again, do not see her. Do you understand me?"
"Yes, I understand. She saw papa also. If you owe him money, should
it not be paid?"
"My dearest love, everybody who owes anything to anybody should
always pay it. That is so self-evident that one would almost suppose
that it might be understood without being enunciated. But the virtue
of paying your debts is incompatible with an absence of money. Now,
if you please, we will not say anything more about Mrs. Parker. She
is not at any rate a fit companion for you."
"It was you who introduced me to her."
"Hold your tongue about her,--and let that be an end of it. I little
knew what a world of torment I was preparing for myself when I
allowed you to come and live in your father's house."