ARCADES AMBO.
Jeremiah entered Miser Farebrother's room, holding in his hand the
bouquet of flowers he had brought for Phoebe. He had debated within
himself whether he should allow the miser to see them or no, and he had
decided in the affirmative. "Mother commenced it," he thought, "and I'll
go on with it. Strike while the iron's hot, Jeremiah."
"You sent for me," said he, laying the bouquet on the table in full view
of Miser Farebrother.
"Are those the flowers the gentleman lawyer gave my daughter?" asked
Miser Farebrother.
"No," replied Jeremiah; "I didn't know he brought her any. I bought
these in Covent Garden to present to Miss Phoebe."
"You are growing extravagant," said the miser; "and you are becoming
quite a gay young character: first escorting my daughter home from the
village, and now presenting her with expensive flowers. It rains flowers
in Parksides to-day. I was never guilty of such extravagance--never."
"This is the first time _I_ have ever done such a thing," said Jeremiah,
apologetically; "but seeing it was Miss Phoebe's birthday, I thought
the money wouldn't be exactly thrown away. Look here--that lawyer chap;
he's up to no good."
"You don't like lawyers?"
"No more than you do; though, mind you, if I was married and had a son,
I'd bring him up as one. Then he'd know exactly how far to go, and I
should get my legal business done for nothing."
"Oh! oh!" said Miser Farebrother, with a quiet chuckle. "If you were
married and had a son! That's looking ahead, Jeremiah."
"It's a good plan; it keeps one prepared. You've no objection to my
giving Miss Phoebe these flowers, I suppose?"
"Not the slightest, so long as you bought them with your own money. Only
don't do too much of that sort of thing. When you spend money, spend it
to advantage--in something that will last, or will make more money.
Spending money in flowers is folly; in two days flowers and money are
gone. You can look at them in gardens and shop windows, then you get all
your pleasure for nothing. That's the wise plan. Costs nothing for
looking, Jeremiah."
"You are quite right. I'll bear in mind what you say, and profit by it."
"That pleases me. What I like is obedience--blind obedience--and I will
have it from those in my control. So--you're thinking of marriage, eh? A
wife is an expensive toy."
"Not when you've got the right one! Likely as not it keeps a man out of
mischief."
"So long as you've got the right one! Your mother said something to me;
has she told you of it?"
Jeremiah considered a moment, and for once in his life was candid.
"Yes," he said, "she told me of it."
"Sit down, Jeremiah."
The astute young man obeyed in silence, and inwardly congratulated
himself. "Things are going on swimmingly," he thought; "the fish is as
good as in my net already." While Miser Farebrother, gazing on Jeremiah,
thought, "I'll bind him tight; I'll bind him tight!" Presently he spoke.
"You have been a long time in my service, and are acquainted with my
business."
"I know all the ins and outs of it," said Jeremiah. "I've got it at my
fingers' ends."
Miser Farebrother sighed. Humbly as Jeremiah's words were spoken, the
miser felt that his managing clerk had him in his power. Well, the best
plan was to put chains around him, and what chains so tight and binding
as matrimony?
"If I came to grief, Jeremiah, you could set up in business for
yourself?"
"Yes," said Jeremiah, boldly; "and make a fortune. But you come to
grief! No, sir; not while I am with you."
"It is my misfortune," continued the miser, "and your good luck, that I
am ill and weak, and unable to give the proper personal attention to my
affairs."
"Why say 'misfortune,' sir? It may be your good luck as well as mine."
"But it is as I say," cried Miser Farebrother, testily.
"Very well, sir. Then what a shrewd man would do is to make the best of
it." Jeremiah's cue was not to cross or vex his master; to assert
himself up to a certain point, but to lead the miser to believe that in
him, Jeremiah, a wily master had a suitable tool, who, for a prospective
advantage, would devote himself hand and foot, body and soul, to his
employer's interest.
"That is all that is left to me," groaned Miser Farebrother--"to make
the best of it. Jeremiah Pamflett," he said, abruptly, "were I in your
place and you in mine, how would you act?"
"Under precisely similar circumstances?"
"Yes, under precisely similar circumstances."
"I should seek an interview," said Jeremiah, keeping down his
excitement, "with the young man who was managing my business in London
for me, in whom I had every confidence, and say to him, 'You seem to
have a liking for my daughter.'"
"Ah!" said Miser Farebrother, "Go on."
"'My object is,' I should say to this young man, 'that she shall marry a
man who will serve me faithfully, to keep her out of the hands of
scheming relatives, and to keep her especially out of the hands of
scheming lawyers. You are the man I would select as her husband. Marry
her, and continue to serve me faithfully, and then all our interests
will be common interests, and I shall be safe from conspiracies, which
have but one end in view: to rob me of my hard-earned money.' After that
I should wait to hear what he had to say."
"Not yet, Jeremiah, not yet," said Miser Farebrother; "there is still
something more to be said on my side. Supposing that the words you have
put into my mouth have been spoken by me to you, I should not wind up
there. I should continue thus: 'If I give you my consent to pay court to
my daughter, who, when I am gone, will, if she behaves herself, inherit
what little property I have, you must bind yourself to me for a term of
years. No, not for a term of years, but for as long as I am alive. There
shall be an agreement drawn up, a binding agreement, which, if you
break, will render you liable for a heavy penalty, which I shall exact.
Your salary shall be so much a week, and no more; and you are not to ask
me for more. You are to be, until my last hour, my servant, amenable to
me, acting under my instructions, and you are not to put yourself in
opposition to my wishes,' That, as far as I can at present see, is what
I should say to you, Jeremiah; and now I await your answer."
"My answer is," said Jeremiah, "that I agree to everything. It is my
interest to do so. You see, sir, I don't mince matters, and don't want
to take any credit to myself that I am not entitled to."
"Continue in that vein," said Miser Farebrother, "and all will be well.
But don't think I am going to die yet awhile."
"I hope," cried Jeremiah, fervently, "that you will live for fifty
years."
"I may believe that or not," said Miser Farebrother, dryly, "as I
please. Make no mistakes with me, Jeremiah; I know what human nature is.
You have my permission to pay court to my daughter."
"Oh, thank you, sir, thank you!" exclaimed Jeremiah, attempting to take
the miser's hand.
"We want none of that nonsense," said Miser Farebrother, sardonically.
"We have entered into a bargain, and that is enough. Now attend to me,
and follow my instructions. What has passed between us is, for the
present, to be kept a secret. There is to be no hurry, no violence. Pay
attention to my daughter in a quiet way: endeavour to win her favour--"
"Her love, sir, her love!" interrupted Jeremiah, enthusiastically.
"Her love, if you will; but that is between you and her. I do not
propose that there shall be an immediate break between her and her
relatives, the Lethbridges. Things must be allowed to go on as usual in
that quarter. I have my own reasons for biding my time. When I tell you
to speak openly to my daughter, you will speak openly, and not till
then. You agree to this?"
"Yes, sir, yes; I agree."
"Should she offer any obstacle, I will throw upon your side the weight
of my authority, and she will not dare to disobey me. Meanwhile keep a
watch upon the Lethbridges and their lawyer friend, who has come here
to-day uninvited. He may have some design against me; he may know
something which it is necessary I should learn before I put my foot
down. And further, friend Jeremiah, you are not to presume because I
have given you this great chance. Everything between us is to remain as
it is. I am my own master and yours, and I submit to no dictation."
On the gray, sly face of Jeremiah Pamflett no expression was visible
which could be construed into rebellion at these imperious words, but in
his mind reigned the thought: "My master, are you? I will make you pipe
to another tune before you are many months older. Let me but get hold of
Phoebe, and I will grind you as you are grinding me!" Master and man
were well matched.