"Good evening, Balch. Bless me! how gloomy you look here, after coming
from the glare and music of the opera, its ladies and its jewels; you
are as good as a nightmare, sitting there with your one bachelor candle,
keeping that miserable fire company. One would think your veins were
turned to ice, or that there was not a bright eye left in the world to
make the blood leap through them. Turn up the gas, sing us a song, hand
out a cigar; you are as solemn as a sexton."
"I dare say," replied Balch, in a melancholy key, as he languidly turned
on the gas for his friend, and set a box of cigars before him. "I know I
am not good company, so I shall not advise you to stay."
"A woman in the case, I dare be sworn," said Gerritt, lighting a cigar,
"Lord bless 'em, they are always at the top and bottom of every thing!"
Balch gave the anthracite a poke, crossed his slippered feet, folded his
arms, and looked at Gerritt.
"I knew it," said Gerritt. "I am acquainted with all the symptoms of
that malady; let's have it, Balch; you can tell me nothing new in the
way of woman's twistings and turnings. Bless 'em!"
"Bless 'em?" exclaimed Balch, unfolding his arms, placing both hands on
his knees and staring in Gerritt's face. "Bless 'em?"
"Yes; bless 'em. I knew what I was saying, well enough. Bless 'em, I
repeat, for if they do not give a man more than five rapturous moments
in a life time, it is well worth being born for. Fact;" said Gerritt, as
the speechless Balch continued gazing at him.
"Did you ever see Mrs. Markham?" asked Balch, finding voice.
The solemnity with which he asked the question, and his whole _tout
ensemble_ at that moment, was too much for Gerritt, who burst into an
uproarious laugh.
"Ah, you may laugh," said Balch, "it is all very well; but I wish there
was not a woman in the world."
"Horrible!" said Gerritt. "I shan't join you there; but who was this
Mrs. Markham?"
Balch moved his chair nearer to Gerritt, and shutting his teeth very
closely together, hissed through them,
"The very d--l."
"Is that all?" said the merry philosopher. "So is every woman, unless
you get the right side of her. Women are like cats; you must 'poor'
them, as the children say, the right way of the fur, unless you want
them to scratch. I suppose you did not understand managing her."
"Were you ever on a committee of an Orphan Asylum?" asked Balch,
solemnly.
"No--no;" laughed Gerritt. "Why, Balch, I beg pardon on my knees, for
calling you and your den here, funereal; I have not laughed so hard for
a twelvemonth."
"Because," said Balch, not heeding his friend's raillery; "_I have_, and
Mrs. Markham was the matron."
"O--h--I see," said Gerritt. "You thought her an angel, and _she_
thought that _you_ thought the children under her care were well cared
for, when they were not; is that it?"
"Ex-actly," said Balch, in admiration of his friend's penetration; "it
was awful how that woman deceived every body. I don't mind myself,
though I must say that I never want to see any thing that wears a
petticoat again, till the day of my death; but those poor children, I
can't get over it; and I one of the investigating committee, too! It was
infamous that I did not look into things closer. But, Gerritt, you see,
that Mrs. Markham--" and Balch looked foolish.
"I understand;" said Gerritt. "I see the whole game; well, what did you
say about it? I suppose you did not content yourself with resigning?"
"No, indeed, and that comforts me a little. I had her turned out. I
don't suppose (she was so plausible) that I should have believed Gabriel
himself, had be told me any thing against her; but I saw her with my
own eyes one day, when I called unexpectedly, abuse those children. She
did not know I was within hearing, and tried afterward to gloss it over;
it wouldn't do; and then, when the scales had fallen off my eyes, I
looked back and saw a great many other things to which that scene gave
me the clew. Then I went to Timmins and Watkins, two of her assistants,
and after making me promise not to get them into any difficulty about
it, they told me things that would make your very flesh creep; and I one
of the investigating committee; but that Mrs. Markham was--"
"I have no doubt of it," said Gerritt; "but, my dear fellow, there is
always a drop of consolation to be squeezed out of every thing. Suppose
you had married her!"
Balch jammed the poker furiously into the anthracite, shaking his head
mournfully the while, and the laughing Gerritt withdrew.
"Yes, yes," said Balch, "that is lucky; but poor little Tibbie! poor
little Tibbie! that will not bring _her_ back to life; and poor little
Rose, too--and I one of the investigating committee! It is dreadful."