JOHN CRUMB'S VICTORY.
In the meantime great preparations were going on down in Suffolk for
the marriage of that happiest of lovers, John Crumb. John Crumb had
been up to London, had been formally reconciled to Ruby,--who had
submitted to his floury embraces, not with the best grace in the
world, but still with a submission that had satisfied her future
husband,--had been intensely grateful to Mrs. Hurtle, and almost
munificent in liberality to Mrs. Pipkin, to whom he presented a
purple silk dress, in addition to the cloak which he had given on a
former occasion. During this visit he had expressed no anger against
Ruby, and no indignation in reference to the baronite. When informed
by Mrs. Pipkin, who hoped thereby to please him, that Sir Felix
was supposed to be still "all one mash of gore," he blandly smiled,
remarking that no man could be much the worse for a "few sich taps
as them." He only stayed a few hours in London, but during these few
hours he settled everything. When Mrs. Pipkin suggested that Ruby
should be married from her house, he winked his eye as he declined
the suggestion with thanks. Daniel Ruggles was old, and, under the
influence of continued gin and water, was becoming feeble. John Crumb
was of opinion that the old man should not be neglected, and hinted
that with a little care the five hundred pounds which had originally
been promised as Ruby's fortune, might at any rate be secured. He was
of opinion that the marriage should be celebrated in Suffolk,--the
feast being spread at Sheep's Acre farm, if Dan Ruggles could be
talked into giving it,--and if not, at his own house. When both the
ladies explained to him that this last proposition was not in strict
accordance with the habits of the fashionable world, John expressed
an opinion that, under the peculiar circumstances of his marriage,
the ordinary laws of the world might be suspended. "It ain't jist
like other folks, after all as we've been through," said he,--meaning
probably to imply that having had to fight for his wife, he was
entitled to give a breakfast on the occasion if he pleased. But
whether the banquet was to be given by the bride's grandfather or by
himself,--he was determined that there should be a banquet, and that
he would bid the guests. He invited both Mrs. Pipkin and Mrs. Hurtle,
and at last succeeded in inducing Mrs. Hurtle to promise that she
would bring Mrs. Pipkin down to Bungay, for the occasion.
Then it was necessary to fix the day, and for this purpose it was of
course essential that Ruby should be consulted. During the discussion
as to the feast and the bridegroom's entreaties that the two ladies
would be present, she had taken no part in the matter in hand. She
was brought up to be kissed, and having been duly kissed she retired
again among the children, having only expressed one wish of her
own,--namely, that Joe Mixet might not have anything to do with
the affair. But the day could not be fixed without her, and she
was summoned. Crumb had been absurdly impatient, proposing next
Tuesday,--making his proposition on a Friday. They could cook enough
meat for all Bungay to eat by Tuesday, and he was aware of no
other cause for delay. "That's out of the question," Ruby had said
decisively, and as the two elder ladies had supported her Mr. Crumb
yielded with a good grace. He did not himself appreciate the reasons
given because, as he remarked, gowns can be bought ready made at
any shop. But Mrs. Pipkin told him with a laugh that he didn't know
anything about it, and when the 14th of August was named he only
scratched his head and, muttering something about Thetford fair,
agreed that he would, yet once again, allow love to take precedence
of business. If Tuesday would have suited the ladies as well he
thought that he might have managed to combine the marriage and the
fair, but when Mrs. Pipkin told him that he must not interfere any
further, he yielded with a good grace. He merely remained in London
long enough to pay a friendly visit to the policeman who had locked
him up, and then returned to Suffolk, revolving in his mind how
glorious should be the matrimonial triumph which he had at last
achieved.
Before the day arrived, old Ruggles had been constrained to forgive
his granddaughter, and to give a general assent to the marriage. When
John Crumb, with a sound of many trumpets, informed all Bungay that
he had returned victorious from London, and that after all the ups
and downs of his courtship Ruby was to become his wife on a fixed
day, all Bungay took his part, and joined in a general attack upon
Mr. Daniel Ruggles. The cross-grained old man held out for a long
time, alleging that the girl was no better than she should be, and
that she had run away with the baronite. But this assertion was
met by so strong a torrent of contradiction, that the farmer was
absolutely driven out of his own convictions. It is to be feared that
many lies were told on Ruby's behalf by lips which had been quite
ready a fortnight since to take away her character. But it had become
an acknowledged fact in Bungay that John Crumb was ready at any hour
to punch the head of any man who should hint that Ruby Ruggles had,
at any period of her life, done any act or spoken any word unbecoming
a young lady; and so strong was the general belief in John Crumb,
that Ruby became the subject of general eulogy from all male lips
in the town. And though perhaps some slight suspicion of irregular
behaviour up in London might be whispered by the Bungay ladies among
themselves, still the feeling in favour of Mr. Crumb was so general,
and his constancy was so popular, that the grandfather could not
stand against it. "I don't see why I ain't to do as I likes with my
own," he said to Joe Mixet, the baker, who went out to Sheep's Acre
Farm as one of many deputations sent by the municipality of Bungay.
"She's your own flesh and blood, Mr. Ruggles," said the baker.
"No; she ain't;--no more than she's a Pipkin. She's taken up with
Mrs. Pipkin jist because I hate the Pipkinses. Let Mrs. Pipkin give
'em a breakfast."
"She is your own flesh and blood,--and your name, too, Mr. Ruggles.
And she's going to be the respectable wife of a respectable man, Mr.
Ruggles."
"I won't give 'em no breakfast;--that's flat," said the farmer.
But he had yielded in the main when he allowed himself to base his
opposition on one immaterial detail. The breakfast was to be given at
the King's Head, and, though it was acknowledged on all sides that no
authority could be found for such a practice, it was known that the
bill was to be paid by the bridegroom. Nor would Mr. Ruggles pay the
five hundred pounds down as in early days he had promised to do. He
was very clear in his mind that his undertaking on that head was
altogether cancelled by Ruby's departure from Sheep's Acre. When he
was reminded that he had nearly pulled his granddaughter's hair out
of her head, and had thus justified her act of rebellion, he did not
contradict the assertion, but implied that if Ruby did not choose to
earn her fortune on such terms as those, that was her fault. It was
not to be supposed that he was to give a girl, who was after all as
much a Pipkin as a Ruggles, five hundred pounds for nothing. But,
in return for that night's somewhat harsh treatment of Ruby, he did
at last consent to have the money settled upon John Crumb at his
death,--an arrangement which both the lawyer and Joe Mixet thought to
be almost as good as a free gift, being both of them aware that the
consumption of gin and water was on the increase. And he, moreover,
was persuaded to receive Mrs. Pipkin and Ruby at the farm for the
night previous to the marriage. This very necessary arrangement was
made by Mr. Mixet's mother, a most respectable old lady, who went
out in a fly from the inn attired in her best black silk gown and an
overpowering bonnet, an old lady from whom her son had inherited his
eloquence, who absolutely shamed the old man into compliance,--not,
however, till she had promised to send out the tea and white sugar
and box of biscuits which were thought to be necessary for Mrs.
Pipkin on the evening preceding the marriage. A private sitting-room
at the inn was secured for the special accommodation of Mrs.
Hurtle,--who was supposed to be a lady of too high standing to be
properly entertained at Sheep's Acre Farm.
On the day preceding the wedding one trouble for a moment clouded
the bridegroom's brow. Ruby had demanded that Joe Mixet should not
be among the performers, and John Crumb, with the urbanity of a
lover, had assented to her demand,--as far, at least, as silence
can give consent. And yet he felt himself unable to answer such
interrogatories as the parson might put to him without the assistance
of his friend, although he devoted much study to the matter. "You
could come in behind like, Joe, just as if I knew nothin' about it,"
suggested Crumb.
"Don't you say a word of me, and she won't say nothing, you may be
sure. You ain't going to give in to all her cantraps that way, John?"
John shook his head and rubbed the meal about on his forehead. "It
was only just something for her to say. What have I done that she
should object to me?"
"You didn't ever go for to--kiss her,--did you, Joe?"
"What a one'er you are! That wouldn't 'a set her again me. It is just
because I stood up and spoke for you like a man that night at Sheep's
Acre, when her mind was turned the other way. Don't you notice
nothing about it. When we're all in the church she won't go back
because Joe Mixet's there. I'll bet you a gallon, old fellow, she and
I are the best friends in Bungay before six months are gone."
"Nay, nay; she must have a better friend than thee, Joe, or I
must know the reason why." But John Crumb's heart was too big for
jealousy, and he agreed at last that Joe Mixet should be his best
man, undertaking to "square it all" with Ruby, after the ceremony.
He met the ladies at the station and,--for him,--was quite eloquent
in his welcome to Mrs. Hurtle and Mrs. Pipkin. To Ruby he said but
little. But he looked at her in her new hat, and generally bright in
subsidiary wedding garments, with great delight. "Ain't she bootiful
now?" he said aloud to Mrs. Hurtle on the platform, to the great
delight of half Bungay, who had accompanied him on the occasion.
Ruby, hearing her praises thus sung, made a fearful grimace as she
turned round to Mrs. Pipkin, and whispered to her aunt, so that those
only who were within a yard or two could hear her; "He is such a
fool!" Then he conducted Mrs. Hurtle in an omnibus up to the Inn, and
afterwards himself drove Mrs. Pipkin and Ruby out to Sheep's Acre;
in the performance of all which duties he was dressed in the green
cutaway coat with brass buttons which had been expressly made for his
marriage. "Thou'rt come back then, Ruby," said the old man.
"I ain't going to trouble you long, grandfather," said the girl.
"So best;--so best. And this is Mrs. Pipkin?"
"Yes, Mr. Ruggles; that's my name."
"I've heard your name. I've heard your name, and I don't know as I
ever want to hear it again. But they say as you've been kind to that
girl as 'd 'a been on the town only for that."
"Grandfather, that ain't true," said Ruby with energy. The old man
made no rejoinder, and Ruby was allowed to take her aunt up into the
bedroom which they were both to occupy. "Now, Mrs. Pipkin, just you
say," pleaded Ruby, "how was it possible for any girl to live with an
old man like that?"
"But, Ruby, you might always have gone to live with the young man
instead when you pleased."
"You mean John Crumb."
"Of course I mean John Crumb, Ruby."
"There ain't much to choose between 'em. What one says is all spite;
and the other man says nothing at all."
"Oh Ruby, Ruby," said Mrs. Pipkin, with solemnly persuasive voice, "I
hope you'll come to learn some day, that a loving heart is better nor
a fickle tongue,--specially with vittels certain."
On the following morning the Bungay church bells rang merrily, and
half its population was present to see John Crumb made a happy man.
He himself went out to the farm and drove the bride and Mrs. Pipkin
into the town, expressing an opinion that no hired charioteer would
bring them so safely as he would do himself; nor did he think it any
disgrace to be seen performing this task before his marriage. He
smiled and nodded at every one, now and then pointing back with his
whip to Ruby when he met any of his specially intimate friends, as
though he would have said, "See, I've got her at last in spite of all
difficulties." Poor Ruby, in her misery under this treatment, would
have escaped out of the cart had it been possible. But now she was
altogether in the man's hands and no escape was within her reach.
"What's the odds?" said Mrs. Pipkin as they settled their bonnets in
a room at the Inn just before they entered the church. "Drat it,--you
make me that angry I'm half minded to cuff you. Ain't he fond o'
you? Ain't he got a house of his own? Ain't he well to do all round?
Manners! What's manners? I don't see nothing amiss in his manners. He
means what he says, and I call that the best of good manners."
Ruby, when she reached the church, had been too completely quelled
by outward circumstances to take any notice of Joe Mixet, who was
standing there, quite unabashed, with a splendid nosegay in his
button-hole. She certainly had no right on this occasion to complain
of her husband's silence. Whereas she could hardly bring herself
to utter the responses in a voice loud enough for the clergyman
to catch the familiar words, he made his assertions so vehemently
that they were heard throughout the whole building. "I, John,--take
thee Ruby,--to my wedded wife,--to 'ave and to 'old,--from this day
forrard,--for better nor worser,--for richer nor poorer--;" and so
on to the end. And when he came to the "worldly goods" with which he
endowed his Ruby, he was very emphatic indeed. Since the day had been
fixed he had employed all his leisure-hours in learning the words by
heart, and would now hardly allow the clergyman to say them before
him. He thoroughly enjoyed the ceremony, and would have liked to be
married over and over again, every day for a week, had it been
possible.
And then there came the breakfast, to which he marshalled the way up
the broad stairs of the inn at Bungay, with Mrs. Hurtle on one arm
and Mrs. Pipkin on the other. He had been told that he ought to take
his wife's arm on this occasion, but he remarked that he meant to see
a good deal of her in future, and that his opportunities of being
civil to Mrs. Hurtle and Mrs. Pipkin would be rare. Thus it came to
pass that, in spite of all that poor Ruby had said, she was conducted
to the marriage-feast by Joe Mixet himself. Ruby, I think, had
forgotten the order which she had given in reference to the baker.
When desiring that she might see nothing more of Joe Mixet, she had
been in her pride;--but now she was so tamed and quelled by the
outward circumstances of her position, that she was glad to have some
one near her who knew how to behave himself. "Mrs. Crumb, you have my
best wishes for your continued 'ealth and 'appiness," said Joe Mixet
in a whisper.
"It's very good of you to say so, Mr. Mixet."
"He's a good 'un; is he."
"Oh, I dare say."
"You just be fond of him and stroke him down, and make much of him,
and I'm blessed if you mayn't do a'most anything with him,--all's one
as a babby."
"A man shouldn't be all's one as a babby, Mr. Mixet."
"And he don't drink hard, but he works hard, and go where he will he
can hold his own." Ruby said no more, and soon found herself seated
by her husband's side. It certainly was wonderful to her that so many
people should pay John Crumb so much respect, and should seem to
think so little of the meal and flour which pervaded his countenance.
After the breakfast, or "bit of dinner," as John Crumb would call
it, Mr. Mixet of course made a speech. "He had had the pleasure of
knowing John Crumb for a great many years, and the honour of being
acquainted with Miss Ruby Ruggles,--he begged all their pardons,
and should have said Mrs. John Crumb,--ever since she was a child."
"That's a downright story," said Ruby in a whisper to Mrs. Hurtle.
"And he'd never known two young people more fitted by the gifts of
nature to contribute to one another's 'appinesses. He had understood
that Mars and Wenus always lived on the best of terms, and perhaps
the present company would excuse him if he likened this 'appy young
couple to them two 'eathen gods and goddesses. For Miss Ruby,--Mrs.
Crumb he should say,--was certainly lovely as ere a Wenus as ever
was; and as for John Crumb, he didn't believe that ever a Mars among
'em could stand again him. He didn't remember just at present whether
Mars and Wenus had any young family, but he hoped that before long
there would be any number of young Crumbs for the Bungay birds to
pick up. 'Appy is the man as 'as his quiver full of 'em,--and the
woman too, if you'll allow me to say so, Mrs. Crumb." The speech, of
which only a small sample can be given here, was very much admired by
the ladies and gentlemen present,--with the single exception of poor
Ruby, who would have run away and locked herself in an inner chamber
had she not been certain that she would be brought back again.
[Illustration: The happy bridegroom.]
In the afternoon John took his bride to Lowestoft, and brought her
back to all the glories of his own house on the following day. His
honeymoon was short, but its influence on Ruby was beneficent. When
she was alone with the man, knowing that he was her husband, and
thinking something of all that he had done to win her to be his wife,
she did learn to respect him. "Now, Ruby, give a fellow a buss,--as
though you meant it," he said, when the first fitting occasion
presented itself.
"Oh, John,--what nonsense!"
"It ain't nonsense to me, I can tell you. I'd sooner have a kiss from
you than all the wine as ever was swallowed." Then she did kiss him,
"as though she meant it;" and when she returned with him to Bungay
the next day, she had made up her mind that she would endeavour to do
her duty by him as his wife.