THE HISTORY OF A LIVERY-SERVANT.
"My parents were very poor, but very honest; and I was their only child.
My father was a light porter in a warehouse, earning fifteen shillings a
week; and my mother took in washing to obtain a few shillings more. We
lived in a court leading out of High Holborn, and occupied one room,
which was very decently furnished for people in my parents' condition of
life, the things moreover being all their own. My father had a good suit
of clothes, and my mother a nice gown, bonnet, and shawl, for Sundays
and holidays; and they also took care to keep me neat and decent in my
dress. Neither of them ever went to the public-house except just to
fetch the beer for dinner and supper; and they were always regular in
their attendance at church. In addition to all these proofs of good
conduct and respectability, they put by two or three shillings a-week as
a provision against a rainy day; and you may be sure that to be able to
do this, they lived very economically indeed. In fact a more industrious
couple did not exist than my father and mother; and you will admit that
they deserved to succeed in the world. This much I have heard from
people who knew them; for they died when I was too young to be able to
understand their ways or judge of their merits.
"It seems that my mother was a very pretty young woman. She had been a
servant in the family of the merchant in whose warehouse my father was;
and, an attachment, springing up between them, they married. The
merchant, whose name was Shawe, had a son—a dissipated young man,
addicted to gaming and bad company, and consequently a source of great
uneasiness to his parents, who were highly respectable people. During
the time that my mother was in service at the merchant's, Frederick
Shawe was on the Continent, his father having sent him to a commercial
establishment at Rotterdam, in the hope that he would amend his ways
when under the care of comparative strangers. But this hope, it appears,
was completely disappointed; and the young man was after all sent back
to his father's house as irreclaimable. At this time my parents had been
married three years, and I was two years old. My mother was in the habit
of taking my father's dinner to him at the warehouse, whenever his
duties prevented him from running home to get it; and on one of these
occasions, Frederick Shawe saw her as she was going out of the
establishment. He followed her, made insulting proposals, and behaved
most grossly. She had me with her; and this circumstance rendered his
conduct the more abominable, if any thing was wanting to aggravate it.
Indeed, his persecution was carried to such an excess, that she was
obliged to take refuge in a shop, where she went into hysterics through
fright and indignation. Shawe sneaked away the moment he found that the
master of the shop was disposed to take my mother's part against him;
and when she was a little recovered, she was sent home in a
hackney-coach. On the return of my father in the evening, she told him
all that had occurred; and it seems that she had scarcely made an end of
her narrative, when Frederick Shawe entered the room. He declared that
he had come to express his sincere penitence for what he had done, and
to implore that his father might not be made acquainted with his
behaviour. He seemed so earnest, and so excessively sorry for his
infamous conduct, that my parents consented to look over it. He thanked
them over and over again, and took his departure. My father, however,
desired his wife never to come to the warehouse to him any more, as he
was unwilling to expose her to even the chance of a repetition of the
insult.
"A few weeks after this occurrence Frederick Shawe one evening, when
under the influence of liquor, called at our lodgings, my father being
absent, and renewed his outrageous conduct towards my mother. An alarm
was created in the dwelling—a constable was sent for—and the young
gentleman was taken off to the watch-house. Of course the matter was now
too serious to be hushed up; and the elder Mr. Shawe necessarily learnt
all the particulars. His son was fined and held to bail to keep the
peace towards Mrs. Jeffreys; and my father obtained another
situation—for though the old merchant knew that his son was alone to
blame, yet my father thought that he could not prudently remain in a
place where he must daily meet a person who, he felt convinced, was now
his sworn enemy. And such indeed did Frederick Shawe prove to be; for by
misrepresentations and heaven only knows what other underhand means, he
so successfully avenged himself that my poor father soon lost his new
situation, and was totally unable to find another. The most infamous
reports were circulated concerning him; and he took the cruel treatment
he had received so much to heart, that his spirit was completely
broken—he fell ill, and died in a few weeks.
"Poverty and despair thus seized upon my mother at the same moment. She
saw all her happiness suddenly blasted by the agency of a reckless
villain; and, to add to her afflictions, the only friend who showed any
compassion for her or who came forward to assist her in the midst of her
wretchedness—namely, the old merchant—was suddenly snatched away by the
hand of death, ten days after the earth had closed over my father's
remains. The poor woman was unable to bear up against her sorrows: she
languished for a few months, and then departed this life, leaving me a
friendless and unprotected orphan at the tender age of three years! You
may guess what then became of me: I was taken to the workhouse!
"I have sketched these circumstances just to show you how unfortunate I
was in my earliest infancy. My parents would have lived to thrive and
prosper had it not been for the miscreant Frederick Shawe; and under
their protection I should have been happy. However, it was destined that
my father and mother should be cut off thus early; and their cruel fate
threw me as a pauper-child upon the parish. At the workhouse I remained
until I was thirteen; and it was from an elderly couple whom distress
brought to the same place, and who had known my parents well, that I
learnt all the particulars which I have related to you. Well, at the age
of thirteen I was transferred to the care of a surgeon and accoucheur,
who took me into his house to clean the boots and shoes, run on errands,
and beat up drugs in the mortar. Finding me active and, as he said, a
good-looking lad—for I was not then seared with the small-pox as I am
now—he put me into the regular livery of a doctor's boy after I had been
with him a few months; and I was then entrusted with the delivery of the
medicine. My master was an old man; and his wife was a bustling, active,
elderly lady, in whom implicit confidence might be placed as long as she
was well paid for her services and her secresy. You will understand what
I mean very shortly. In fact one day I noticed a great deal of
whispering between the doctor, his wife, and the housekeeper; and their
looks were mysterious and important. Certain preparations, too,
commenced, which showed me that a visitor was expected; for I was a
shrewd and observing boy for my age. I was ordered to clean the windows
in the spare bed-room and the well-furnished little parlour
communicating with it; and while I was thus occupied, the housekeeper
put the two apartments into the nicest possible order. I asked her if
any one was coming to stay at the house, and was desired to mind my own
business. I accordingly held my tongue; but my curiosity was only the
more excited in consequence of the answer I received and the mystery in
which the motive of the preparations in progress was involved. At an
earlier hour than usual I was ordered to retire to my own room; but as
it commanded a view of the street—it was Brook Street, Holborn—I sate
up, watching at my window—for I felt sure that I had not been dismissed
to my attic without some good reason. Nor was I mistaken. At about
half-past ten a hackney-coach drove up to the door: two trunks were
carried into the house, and a lady, muffled in a cloak, was assisted to
descend from the vehicle by the doctor and his wife, who seemed to treat
her with the greatest respect. I was able to notice all that passed,
because the moon was bright and I was looking out of the open window.
The lady accompanied the doctor and his wife in-doors; and the coach
drove away.
"Next morning I saw the housekeeper take up a breakfast-tray to those
rooms which I had now no doubt were occupied by the lady who had arrived
the night before; but I was cautious not to appear even to notice that
any thing unusual was going on, much less to ask questions,—for I
remembered the rebuff I had already received in this latter respect. The
cook and housemaid were as mysteriously reserved as the housekeeper
herself; and I could not for the life of me make out what it all meant.
To be brief, a month passed away; and though I never saw the tenant of
the spare-rooms all the while, yet I knew that a tenant those rooms had;
for the meals were regularly taken up—the doctor looked in there two or
three times a day—and his wife passed hours together there. At length
the housemaid, who was a pretty, wicked-looking girl of about nineteen,
undertook to initiate me into the secret which so much puzzled me; and,
taking advantage of a Sunday evening when she and I were alone together,
the other servants having gone out, she explained how some young lady,
who was not married, was about to become a mother—and how the
spare-rooms were always kept for lodgers of that kind.—'Have you seen
her?' I asked.—'No,' she replied; 'nor am I likely to see her. I have
been four years in this house, and during that time there have been
eight or ten ladies here in the same way; but I never caught a glimpse
of the face of any one of them. They pay, or their friends pay for them,
a good round sum to master for the accommodation; and that is the manner
in which he has made so much money; for you can see that his regular
practice is not very great. But you must not tell any body that I have
been talking to you in this style, John; or else I shall lose my
place.'—I promised her not to betray her.—'How old are you, John?' she
asked.—'Going on for fourteen,' I said.—'You are a pretty boy,' she
continued. 'Would you like to give me a kiss?'—'You would think me very
rude,' I answered.—'No, I shouldn't: try.'—'But I should feel so
ashamed,' I said.—'Then you are a fool, John,' exclaimed the pretty
housemaid; and she got into a pet, which lasted all the rest of the
evening.
"I lay awake a long time that night thinking of what I had heard
concerning the lady in the private apartments; and, I can't say how it
was—but I felt an extraordinary longing to catch a glimpse of her. The
more I reflected on this wish, the stronger it grew: and at last I
determined to gratify it somehow or another. Having come to this
resolution I fell asleep. Next morning the twopenny postman at eight
o'clock brought a letter directed to my master; but in the corner were
two or three initials which I could not quite make out. I took it into
the parlour, where the doctor was seated alone at the time; and, when he
had glanced at the address, he said, 'Oh! it is to go up stairs: give it
to the housekeeper:'—and he went on reading his newspaper. Here was an
opportunity which presented itself almost as soon as my desire to see
the tenant of the spare-rooms had been formed; and, without any
hesitation, I hurried upstairs. I knocked at the door of the parlour
communicating with the bed-chamber; and a sweet voice said, 'Come in.' I
accordingly entered the room and beheld a beautiful creature of about
seventeen or eighteen, dressed in a morning wrapper, all open at the
bosom, and reclining in an arm-chair. She uttered an exclamation of
surprise when she saw me, and drew the wrapper completely over her
breast. It was evident that she had expected to see either the
housekeeper or my mistress. I handed her the note, stammered out
something about 'Master having told me to bring it up,' and then
retired, awkward and embarrassed enough. A few minutes afterwards the
bell of the spare-rooms was rung rather violently; and the housekeeper
went up. She shortly came down again, and went into the parlour, to
which I was presently summoned. The doctor and his wife were seated at
the breakfast-table, looking as gloomy and solemn as possible, and the
housekeeper was standing in the middle of the room. I suspected that a
storm was brewing. 'John,' said the doctor, 'what induced you to take
such a liberty as to enter the apartments of a lady who is lodging in my
house?'—'Please, sir,' I answered, as boldly as possible, 'you told me
to take up the letter; and I did so.'—The doctor, his wife, and the
housekeeper looked at each other by turns; and then they all three
looked very hard at me. 'Well,' said the doctor, 'I suppose it _was_ a
misunderstanding on the boy's part;'—for I did not blush nor seem at all
confused while they were all staring at me.—'But you must not tell any
one that you saw the lady up stairs, John,' exclaimed my mistress.—'I
don't know a soul who would care about knowing such a simple thing,
ma'am,' I replied, pretending to be very innocent indeed. I was then
told to withdraw; and thus passed off this little affair.
[Illustration]
"Throughout that day I saw the pretty housemaid showing great anxiety to
speak to me alone; but circumstances so occurred, that we had not an
opportunity of exchanging a word in private together. At half-past nine
I went to bed as usual, an hour before the other servants; and I soon
fell asleep. But I was awoke by some one shaking me gently; and I was
also startled by seeing a light in the room. In another moment my fears
subsided; for my visitor was the pretty servant-girl in her night-gear.
She sate down on the edge of the bed, and asked me what I was called
into the parlour for in the morning. I told her all that had occurred.
'You are a dear boy,' she said 'not to have confessed that I had put you
up to any thing; for that was what I was afraid of:'—and she gave me two
or three hearty kisses. Then she asked me a great number of questions
about the lady I had seen—what she was like—how old—the colour of her
hair and eyes—and all sorts of queries of that kind. I replied as well
as I could; and she seemed vastly to enjoy the idea of my cool impudence
in taking up the letter just for the sake of getting a peep at the lady.
In fact she was so much pleased with me, that she kept on kissing me;
and all this ended just as you might suppose—for the pretty housemaid
shared my bed during the remainder of the night. This occurrence was
most unfortunate to us both; for we over-slept ourselves,—and the
housekeeper, doubtless having vainly searched for us down stairs, came
up to look after us. We were discovered fast asleep in each other's
arms; and a terrible scene ensued. The housekeeper alarmed the doctor
and his wife with her cries—for I suppose the old lady was quite
scandalised, though she herself had often chucked me under the chin in a
tender manner. The result was that the pretty housemaid was packed off
without delay; and I was stripped of my livery, compelled to put on my
workhouse clothes again, and sent back to the parish officers.
"At the very moment when I was conveyed into the presence of the
overseers by the doctor, a middle-aged lady, magnificently dressed, was
returning to her carriage which waited at the door. She immediately
recognised the doctor as an acquaintance, and he addressed her by the
name of Mrs. Beaumont. The exchange of a few remarks led the lady to
observe that she had applied to the parish officers for a
well-conducted, genteel-looking lad to take the place of a page in her
household; and, as she spoke, she eyed me very attentively. The doctor
informed her that I had been in his service and was a good boy in all
respects save one:—and he explained to her the indiscretion which had
compelled him to part with me; adding, 'The lad was no doubt won over by
the young woman herself; but as my professional success depends on the
reputation of my house, I could not overlook this occurrence.'—The lady
declared that she entertained great compassion for me, and said what a
pity it was that such a nice boy should be thrown back on the parish. In
a word, the business ended by her agreeing to take me on trial; and,
before the doctor left me, he whispered in my ear, 'You see, John, that
I have not ruined your character as I might have done; and therefore you
must be a good lad, and never mention to any one that you saw the lady
who is now lodging at my house.'—He then took his departure; and Mrs.
Beaumont, having arranged with the overseers relative to receiving me
into her service, desired that I might be sent to her abode in the
evening. The instructions were obeyed; and I entered my new place, the
first appearances of which pleased me much.
"Mrs. Beaumont was a widow-lady of about six-and-forty, and was still a
very handsome woman considering her age. Her house was in Russell
Square; and she lived in an elgant style—keeping a butler, a footman,
and three female domestics. She had a Miss Stacey residing with her as a
companion; and this lady was about five or six-and-twenty—somewhat
stout—and rather good-looking. The moment I entered my new place, I was
supplied with a page's livery, and was informed that I was to consider
myself at the orders of the butler. I soon found that I had got into
very comfortable quarters; for the best of provisions were consumed in
the kitchen as well as in the parlour, and the butler, who was fond of a
glass of good liquor himself, often treated me to some likewise. Mrs.
Beaumont saw a great deal of company; and there were dinner-parties or
evening-parties at least three or four times every week. I had not been
many days in this place, before I began to notice that both Mrs.
Beaumont and Miss Stacey treated me with much the same kind of innocent
familiarity which the housekeeper at the doctor's had shown towards me.
They would pat me on the cheek, or chuck me under the chin, and tell me
I was nice boy: but this they never did before each other—only when I
happened to be alone with either one of them. Indeed, when they _were_
together, and I entered the room to answer the bell or for any other
purpose connected with my duties, they would both appear as indifferent
towards me as if they had never shown any other feeling in my behalf. Of
the two I liked Miss Stacey much the best, because she was younger; and
I felt a strange excitement come over me whenever she began to toy about
with me in the way I have described. One day, when I entered the drawing
room, where I found her alone at the time, she said to me, 'John, you
are a very nice boy; and here is half-a-guinea for you to buy what you
like. Only don't let any one know that I gave you the money.'—'Certainly
not, Miss,' I replied.—'And now, John,' she continued, 'I want you to
answer me a question which I am going to put to you. Will you tell me
the truth?'—I of course declared that I would.—'Then tell me,' she said,
patting my face, and looking full at me with her large blue eyes, 'does
Mrs. Beaumont ever play about with you as I do?'—'Oh! never, Miss,' I
answered immediately, and without undergoing the least change of
countenance.—'You are a good boy, John,' she said; and pulling me
towards her, covered me with kisses. A double-knock at the front-door
interrupted her amusement, which, as you may suppose, I took in very
good part; and she hurried me out of the room, enjoining me not to tell
any one that she played about with me.
"The next day Mrs. Beaumont was rather indisposed, and kept her own
chamber until the evening, when she descended to the drawing-room. Miss
Stacey had gone out to a party at a married sister's; and, the footman
being absent likewise, it devolved upon me to take up the tea-tray.
'Well, John,' said my mistress, 'are you comfortable in your present
place?'—'Quite, thank you, ma'am,' I replied.—'You like it better than
the doctor's?' she continued, smoothing down my hair, and then passing
her hand over my face.—'Oh! a great deal ma'am.'—'But do you not miss
the pretty servant-girl, John?' she asked, with a sly look and a half
smile. 'Why, what a naughty boy you must be, and at such an age
too!'—'It was all the young woman's fault, ma'am,' I said; 'and I hope
you do not think any the worse of me for it.'—'If I had I should not
have taken you into my service, John,' she answered. 'And to show you
that I am really attached to you and consider you to be a very good boy,
here's a sovereign for you. It is not on account of your wages, mind;
but a little gift. You must not however tell any body that I gave it to
you, or else you will make the other servants jealous.'—'I'll be sure
not to tell, ma'am,' I said: 'and I thank you very much.'—'And now,
John,' continued Mrs. Beaumont, 'I have one question to put to you, and
you must tell me the truth. Does Miss Stacey ever speak kindly to you? I
mean, does she ever do any thing to show you that she likes you better
than the other servants?'—'No, ma'am,' I replied. 'On the contrary, I
fancy she sometimes speaks sharp to me.'—'Oh! indeed,' said Mrs.
Beaumont; and she then subjected me to the same kissing process that I
had undergone on the part of Miss Stacey—only I did not like it quite so
well. The old lady hugged me very tight, and seemed as if she wanted to
say something, but did not exactly like to do so. At last she spoke out
plainly enough, though in a whispering tone. 'John,' she said, 'I just
now gave you a sovereign, because you are a good boy; and I will give
you another if you will do what I ask you and not tell any one about it.
Should you like to have another sovereign?'—'Very much indeed, ma'am,' I
answered.—'Well, then,' continued Mrs. Beaumont, 'you must come to my
room to-night, when the house is all quiet; because I want to speak to
you very particularly indeed.'—'But I promised the servants, ma'am, to
sit up to let Miss Stacey in,' I answered.—'So much the better,'
observed Mrs. Beaumont. 'Miss Stacey has promised to be back by twelve
at latest; and as soon as you have let her in, you can go up to your own
room, and then a few minutes afterwards come down to mine.'—I promised
to do exactly as I was desired; and, having received a few more kisses
and pawings about, was suffered to return to the kitchen.
"The footman came back at eleven; and as Mrs. Beaumont had already
retired to her chamber, all the servants except myself went off to
theirs. I then remained alone in the kitchen, thinking of what had
occurred between my mistress and myself, and not half liking the idea of
sleeping with her—for I knew very well what her object was in asking me
to go to her room. I wished it had been Miss Stacey who had made such an
appointment with me; for, young as I was, I was greatly smitten with
that lady; and I thought she had never looked so well as when I saw her
that evening dressed for the party to which she had gone. She had on a
very low gown, and her neck was so beautifully white, and her naked arms
seemed so plump, that I was really quite in love with her. It gave me
great pleasure to think that I had been chosen to sit up for her, and I
longed for her return. The clock struck twelve; and a few minutes
afterwards a vehicle stopped at the door. I knew it must be Miss Stacey
who had come back; and I did not wait for the knock and ring, but
hurried to the hall to admit her. She seemed pleased when she saw who it
was that opened the door for her; and I observed that her countenance
was rather flushed, as if she had been drinking an extra glass of
champagne, of which I knew she was very fond. The moment I had closed
and bolted the door, she asked me in a low whisper, whether any of the
other servants were up. I answered in the negative.—'Does your mistress
know that you are sitting up for me?' she next inquired.—'No, Miss,' I
unhesitatingly said.—She began to caress me, and I found that she smelt
rather strong of wine; but she looked so nice that I did not care about
that; and I was so excited that I kissed her in return.—'Light me up
stairs, John,' she at length said; 'and let us go as gently as possible,
so as not to make any noise, on account of Mrs. Beaumont, who is
unwell.'—I led the way up stairs, my heart beating violently; for I more
than half suspected that I should not keep my appointment with my
mistress that night. Nor was I mistaken: for, on reaching the door of
Miss Stacey's chamber, she took my hand, drew me towards her, and said
in a low, hurried whisper, 'Come down to my room in about a quarter of
an hour: I wish to speak to you very particularly indeed.'—I promised to
do so, and hurried up to my own chamber, Miss Stacey having previously
lighted her candle and said, 'Good night, John,' in a tolerably loud
voice, but making a sign to convince me that it was only a precaution on
her part. When I reached my room, I sate down on the bed to think how I
should act. My inclination prompted me to keep the appointment with Miss
Stacey: my fears urged me to keep the one given me by Mrs. Beaumont. I
cared nothing about the sovereign promised me by my mistress, now that I
had received such an invitation from her pretty companion; and I thought
that it would be very easy to excuse myself to Mrs. Beaumont, should she
question me next day, by saying that I fancied her to be only joking, or
perhaps trying me. So, at last, I resolved to follow my inclinations,
and disregard my fears; and I acted in pursuance of this determination.
I accordingly repaired to Miss Stacey's room, and was completely happy.
"We had been an hour together, when a knock at the door alarmed us. Who
could it be? what could it mean? We remained silent as the dead. The
knock was repeated, and was immediately followed by Mrs. Beaumont's
voice, saying, 'Miss Stacey, dear! Miss Stacey!'—'Good God! what can she
want?' whispered Miss Stacey to me; 'she is perhaps unwell, and will
come into the room to speak to me. John, my dear boy, you must get under
the bed, and keep as quiet as a mouse.'—This was done in a moment, and
Miss Stacey bundled my clothes under the bed after me. She then opened
the door, and, sure enough, my mistress entered the room, saying, 'I am
sorry to disturb you, my dear; but I am so unwell I cannot sleep. I have
got such nervous feelings that I am really afraid to be alone.'—'Had I
not better call up one of the servants and send for the doctor, my dear
madam?' asked Miss Stacey, her voice trembling; I could well conjecture
why.—'No, thank you, dear,' answered the lady; 'if you have no
objection, I will pass the remainder of the night with you.'—'Oh! with
pleasure, ma'am,' exclaimed Miss Stacey. 'I will accompany you to your
room directly.'—'We may as well remain here,' replied Mrs. Beaumont; and
it struck me that there was something strange in the way that she spoke.
Miss Stacey urged that it was very injurious for persons in delicate
health to change their beds; but Mrs. Beaumont declared it to be a mere
prejudice. Miss Stacey invented some other frivolous excuse, and I
suppose that this confirmed Mrs. Beaumont's suspicions; for she
immediately exclaimed, 'Really, one would suppose that you wished to get
rid of me, Miss Stacey!'—'To speak candidly, my dear madam,' was the
reply, 'I can't bear sleeping with another person.'—'Indeed!' said Mrs.
Beaumont. 'Hey day! what shoes have we here? Why, surely these cannot be
your's, my dear?'—I have noticed that the more spiteful ladies are
together, the more they '_dear_' each other.—'It must be some oversight
on the part of one of the servants,' said Miss Stacey, in a faint
tone.—'It's very strange!' cried Mrs. Beaumont; and I heard her stoop
down and take up the unfortunate shoes. Oh! how I did shiver and
tremble! and how sincerely I wished both the amorous ladies at the devil
at that moment! But matters grew speedily much worse; for, in stooping
down to pick up the shoes, Mrs. Beaumont had spied my trowsers; and
these she fished up in another moment. Miss Stacey shrieked; Mrs.
Beaumont raised the drapery hanging round the bed to the floor—and,
behold! by the light of the candle which had been left burning in the
room, she discovered unfortunate me!
"I cannot tell you what a scene ensued. Mrs. Beaumont raved like a
mad-woman, and Miss Stacey protested her innocence. The house was
alarmed—the other servants came down to the door—and Mrs. Beaumont's
reproaches and upbraidings, levelled against Miss Stacey and myself,
made every thing known to them. I scarcely know how I had pluck enough
to play the part which I did play; but it is, notwithstanding, a fact
that I was resolved to screen Miss Stacey, and throw all the scandal on
Mrs. Beaumont. I accordingly begged to be allowed to explain; and when I
could obtain a hearing, I swore that Mrs. Beaumont had given me a
sovereign, and promised me another to sleep with her—that I had mistaken
the room—and that the moment I had seen Miss Stacey enter and perceived
my error, I had managed to creep under the bed, unnoticed by her. Mrs.
Beaumont went into strong hysterics at this accusation, and was conveyed
away to her own apartment by the female servants, while I hurried off to
my own room. You may suppose that I scarcely slept a wink all the
remainder of the night. I knew that I had lost both my place and my
character—but I felt satisfied in having done all I could to screen poor
Miss Stacey, though it did not strike me at the time that my version of
the business could not possibly be taken as a very probable story. Next
morning the butler came up to me very early, and in a long, humbugging
speech, assured me that, out of good feeling towards me, Mrs. Beaumont
had consented to keep me in her service, and look over the affair, if I
would confess the truth. I however persisted in my original statement,
and displayed the sovereign that Mrs. Beaumont had given me. The butler
went away, telling me not to leave my room until he came back. Half an
hour passed before he returned, and again he tried to argue me into his
views; but I was obstinate, and the interview ended by his desiring me
to pack up my things and leave the house directly. This I very willingly
agreed to, and in a few minutes my preparations were complete. 'Where
are you going to, youngster?' asked the butler, when he had paid me the
amount of wages due.—'I don't know,' was my reply.—'Well,' he said, 'I
should advise you to take a room at the family washerwoman's. She has
got one to let, I know; and if you hold your tongue about what has
occurred in this house, I will try and get you another place.' I readily
gave the required promise, and also followed the advice relative to the
lodging, in which I was installed in another half hour.
"In the evening the butler came to me, and gave me the addresses of
several families in whose service pages were wanted. 'You will have to
apply to the butlers at those houses,' he said, 'and therefore you can
refer them to me. I will endeavour to make it all right for you, as I
should be sorry to see a promising young lad ruined for want of a
character.' I thanked him very much, pretending to see nothing but pure
friendship in his conduct, although I was quite enough experienced in
the ways of the world to understand that Mrs. Beaumont herself had
instigated this lenient treatment as a means of sealing my lips. I
ventured to ask him about Miss Stacey, and he at once told me that she
had left the house at a very early hour in the morning. I longed to
enquire if he knew where she was gone, but dared not. On the following
day I called at the various addresses which the butler had given me, and
was not considered suitable at any. At one I was thought too young—at
another too old: here I was too short—there I was too tall. In fact, the
objections were trivial, but fatal. I was returning to my lodging along
Great Russell Street, Bloomsbury, when I saw in a shop window a notice
that a livery boy was wanted, and that applications were to be made
within. I entered the shop, and received the address of a house in the
same street. There I went, and was shown into a small parlour, where I
was kept waiting for nearly a quarter of an hour. At last a gentleman
and lady—an elderly couple—entered the room, and I was immediately
subjected to no end of questions, all of which I answered in the most
satisfactory manner, because I did not hesitate to say 'Yes' when an
affirmation was required, and 'No' when a negative was necessary. At
last the gentleman said to the lady, 'Well, my love, what do _you_
think?'—'What do _you_ think, my dear?' asked the lady.—'I think, my
dear——' began the gentleman.—'So do I, Mr. Turner,' exclaimed the lady,
without waiting to hear what her husband _did_ think. It however
appeared that they perfectly well understood each other; for the lady,
turning towards me, said, 'We will give you a trial if the butler at
your last place speaks as well of you as you assure us he will. But you
will have to be very active here, for I must tell you that this is a
boarding-house——'.—'A boarding-house of the highest respectability,'
interrupted the gentleman, looking very solemn indeed, as if he was
afraid that I was going to say I didn't believe him.—'And there are many
ladies and gentlemen to wait upon,' continued Mrs. Turner: 'but we shall
see.' I then withdrew. Mr. Turner went about my character in the
evening, and found every thing satisfactory; and next day I entered my
new place, wondering what adventures would befal me here.
"This boarding-house proved to be the hardest place I ever was in. I had
to get up at five in the morning to clean six pairs of boots and ten
pairs of ladies' shoes. If they did not shine well, I was blown up on
all sides; and if I did make them shine well, Mrs. Turner blew me up for
wasting the blacking. Then I had to bees-wax heaven knows how many
chairs and tables, and to clean the windows from top to bottom at least
twice a-week. In the middle of my work I was constantly interrupted by
knocks at the door, or errands to run upon. Then at meal-times something
was always wanting—something had always been forgotten. The cleaning of
knives and plated forks and spoons would have alone been a good four
hours' work for a strong man. If I did them properly and devoted time to
them, I was scolded for being slow and lazy: and if I knocked them off
in a hurry, they were sure to be found fault with. Sometimes the bells
of half a dozen rooms would ring in the morning, when the boarders were
getting up, all at the same instant; and if I was long in taking up any
particular gentleman's hot water to shave, or any lady's shoes, I was
certain to hear of it when Mrs. Turner came down into the kitchen. In
fact, it was a hard life, and an unthankful office; for when I did my
best, I could not give satisfaction; and yet the cook and housemaid—the
only servants kept besides myself—were candid enough to declare that I
was the best lad that had ever been in the house during their time.
"There was one elderly lady—a Miss Marigold—who seemed to have taken a
particular hatred for me; and only because when, one day, she began to
caress me in the same way that Mrs. Beaumont and Miss Stacey had done, I
laughed in her face and told her to keep her wrinkled old hands to
herself. From that minute she grew desperately malignant against me, and
was always finding fault. I determined to have my revenge, and waited
patiently for the opportunity. That occasion came at last. One evening
Miss Marigold retired earlier to bed than usual; and Mrs. Turner rang
for me in the parlour. I went up and found my mistress alone. 'John,'
she said, 'go directly with this box,'—pointing to a round paste-board
one on the table—'to the hair-dresser's, and tell him that you will call
for it at eight precisely to-morrow morning. Then, in the morning, when
you come back with it, send it up by the housemaid to Miss Marigold's
room.'—I took the box, which was tied round with string, and was
particularly light. It immediately struck me that it must be Miss
Marigold's wig: for I was convinced she wore one. Accordingly, as I went
along the street, I stepped up an alley; and by the light coming from
the window of a house, unfastened the strings to peep inside. Sure
enough, it was Miss Marigold's wig. It immediately struck me that her
going to bed earlier than usual was only an excuse to be able to send
her wig in time for the hair-dresser to do it up that night; and this
circumstance, joined to the fact that she wanted it the very next
morning, convinced me that Miss Marigold had but one wig belonging to
her. I therefore resolved that some accident should occur to the wig
before it went back to her; but in the meantime I took it to the
hair-dresser. He seemed to understand what it was; for without opening
the box, the strings of which I had carefully re-fastened, he promised
me that I should have _the article_ when I came back in the morning,
shortly before eight.
"I must now inform you that there was an elderly gentleman at the
boarding-house, whose name was Prosser. Captain Prosser he was called;
and a jovial kind of old bird he was too. He was amazingly fond of
breaking out now and then, staying away all night, and coming home
between six and seven in the morning, so precious drunk that he could
not see a hole through a ladder. But he was always sensible enough to
know that he must not make a noise; and when I let him in on these
occasions, he would put his fore-finger by the side of his nose in such
a comical fashion, as much as to say, 'Don't let any body know it!' that
I could scarcely keep from laughing. Well, on this very night, when the
affair of the wig occurred, the Captain went out for a spree; and it
happened that he came home rather later than usual the next morning. I
had just returned with the wig-box, and had it still in my hand, when
the Captain's low sneaking knock at the door summoned me to open it. He
came in worse than I had ever seen him before: he could scarcely keep
upon his legs, and his head rolled about on his shoulders just as if he
had no bones in his neck at all. His hat, too, was smashed completely
in; and his coat was slit completely up the back to the very collar.
Such a comical figure I never saw in my life. He staggered into the
hall, seeming quite to forget where he was, or what he wanted there. A
thought struck me, and I resolved to put it into execution. He was so
uncommonly drunk, and yet so quiet and tractable, that I saw I could do
with him just as I liked: so I led him into the parlour where the long
table was laid for breakfast; but no one had come down yet. I seated him
on the sofa in such a way that he could not fall off, and in a few
moment he was in a sound sleep. I removed his hat, took the wig from the
box and fixed it all awry upon his head, purposely tumbling all the
curls, so as to make it appear as if he had thus adorned himself with
his own hand. I then stole away from the room; and, having suffered
about ten minutes to elapse, so as to bring the time nearer to breakfast
before the exposure should take place, I went into the kitchen to tell
the housemaid that there was a box in the parlour which she must
presently take up to Miss Marigold. But she, not knowing what the box
might contain, waited a few minutes more to finish something that she
was about; and I did not choose to hurry her. At last Miss Marigold's
bell rang; and I laughed in my sleeve to think that the poor lady would
vainly wait for her wig. The housemaid hastened to answer the summons,
and I followed her as far as the parlour, under pretence of taking up
some plates for the breakfast-table. But just before we reached that
room, seven or eight of the boarders, ladies and gentlemen alike, came
pouring down stairs to breakfast; and the moment they entered the
parlour, such screams of amazement burst from the women, and such roars
of laughter from the men. The housemaid hurried into the room, and I
behind her; and almost immediately afterwards in came Mr. and Mrs.
Turner, and all the rest of the boarders, except poor Miss Marigold!
"And what a sight burst upon their view! The screams and the roars of
laughter had awoke Captain Prosser; and he was sitting, propping himself
up, in the corner of the sofa, and looking stupidly about him, as if
quite unconscious of where he was, and certainly ignorant of the reason
which drew all eyes upon him. Such a comical spectacle as he was, with
the wig perched all crooked upon his head! At length the ladies began to
give vent to their indignant feelings. 'Shameful!' said one.—'Well, I
never!' cried another.—'And _this_ in a respectable boarding-house!'
exclaimed a third.—'It all comes of having such a monster as the Captain
in the place!' observed a fourth.—'But whose wig is it?' cried one of
the gentlemen, a humorous fellow in his way; and, approaching the
leather box, he took it up. 'MISS MARIGOLD!' at length he exclaimed, his
eyes catching some writing in the inside.—Mrs. Turner, who had suspected
the ownership of the wig, declared that she should go into hysterics;
but her husband begged her not to do any thing of the kind; and so she
followed his advice. Of course no suspicion fell upon me. When
questioned, I said that I had brought home the box without knowing its
contents; that I had put it on the sofa; and that before I had gone down
stairs to tell the housemaid to take it up to Miss Marigold, I had
opened the front door to let in the Captain. The thing was therefore
clear:—the Captain had come in, in a state for which he ought to be
ashamed of himself; and nothing would please him but he must decorate
himself with poor Miss Marigold's wig! Such was the explanation agreed
upon by all present; and while two or three of the gentlemen conveyed
the Captain up to his own room, the wig having been previously removed
from his head, Mrs. Turner went up to break the fatal news to Miss
Marigold. To make an end of this part of my story, I need only say, that
Miss Marigold left the house on the sly the moment her wig was done up
again by the hair-dresser; and Mrs. Turner easily persuaded the ladies
to forgive the Captain, on condition that he would stand a dozen of
wine—which he did.
"Several months passed away after this incident without any adventure
worth relating. It was a most unpleasant place; but there was amusement
in it; and moreover there was a certain love-affair in progress, in
which I felt interested, and the end of which I was determined to wait
and see. Not that I was an actor in it at all; but only a go-between.
The fact was, that amongst the boarders there was a widow-lady, of about
seven or eight and twenty—a very pretty woman, whose name was Percy.
There was also a young gentleman of very effeminate appearance, but
possessing a handsome—or rather a beautiful countenance, and a very
slight figure. He was also short—a complete doll of a man; for he was
within four years as old as the widow. His name was Hulse. This couple
fell in love with each other: or rather, I think, the love was all on
the side of the young gentleman, who possessed some little property and
better prospects, whereas the widow was notorious as a husband-hunter
ever since she had been in the boarding-house, and was moreover very
poor. She was however sweetly pretty; and she had such wicked eyes that
it gave me strange sensations to meet her looks. It was in this way that
I came to know of the love-matter existing between Mr. Hulse and Mrs.
Percy. About the time when the adventure of the wig took place, Mr.
Hulse one evening asked me to give a letter privately to the widow-lady;
and he slipped half-a-crown into my hands. You may have already seen
that I possessed no small degree of curiosity, and I longed to know what
that letter could possibly contain. I took it up into my own room with
me, and tried to catch a glimpse at the writing inside; but it was so
carefully folded that I could not. At last, to my joy, I perceived that
the wax was stamped with a seal which was invariably left lying in the
ink-stand drawer in the parlour, for the general use of the boarders. I
therefore hesitated no longer to open the letter, breaking the wax as
carefully as possible. The letter was a declaration of love, the writer
stating that he had not courage to make the avowal in words; and he
implored a written answer, observing that the lad John was to be
trusted, as he seemed a quiet steady youth. I was much amused by the
letter, and early next morning I re-sealed it by means of the stamp in
the ink-stand drawer: then, watching the opportunity when Mrs. Percy
descended to breakfast, I gave it to her as she was coming down stairs.
In the evening she put into my hands an answer, accompanied by a
shilling for myself; and as she smiled significantly, and showed her
pretty white teeth, I felt that I could do any thing to obtain a kiss
from that sweet mouth. Fortunately this letter was also fastened with
the house-seal, and I was therefore able to read its contents. It
thanked Mr. Hulse for the favourable opinion he had entertained of her,
and stated that she felt she could love him, but that she required a
more explicit avowal of his intentions. This letter I re-sealed and gave
to the young gentleman. A reply was ready in the evening; and another
half-crown was slipped into my hand. This letter I likewise read, and
found that Mr. Hulse professed the most honourable intentions, but
begged that their engagement (should the correspondence have that
result) might be kept a secret, as he had an uncle (from whom he had
considerable expectations) to consult, but who was at present abroad and
would not be in England again for several months. The lady's answer,
which also passed through my hands, was quite satisfactory; and in the
course of a few days I saw that the tender pair exchanged significant
looks when they thought themselves unperceived, and that Mr. Hulse was
gradually losing much of his bashfulness. Nevertheless frequent notes
passed between them, and several presents were made to the lady by the
young gentleman, all of which went through my hands and were duly
inspected by me. It may seem strange that two people living in the same
house should require the aid of a go-between; but such was the fact—for
I believe Mr. Hulse to have been one of the very sentimental and
romantic class of lovers who are fond of mystery and of tender
correspondence.
"This absurd courtship went on for several months; and the lovers little
suspected that I was as well acquainted with its progress as themselves.
At length I perceived by one of Mr. Hulse's letters that his uncle was
expected home in a few days, and he spoke of the necessity which would
compel him to go on a visit to the old gentleman, but also expressed his
hopes that the result would be according to the wishes of the lady and
himself. And in less than a week he did depart on the proposed visit,
having previously exchanged most tender and affectionate letters with
the widow. The very next morning a new boarder arrived—a gentleman who
in every respect was quite different from Mr. Hulse. He was tall,
largely-made, and wore a great deal of hair about his face. Without
being handsome, he was a very fine man; and he talked away at a rapid
rate, getting on good terms with all the other boarders by the time
breakfast was over, and very intimate indeed before the cloth was
removed after dinner. He sate next to the widow, to whom he paid great
attention; and she appeared very well satisfied with his civilities. In
fact, in one single day he made more progress in thrusting himself into
the good graces of Mrs. Percy than Mr. Hulse had done in a week. The
name which the gentleman bore at the house was Jameson; but I did not
believe it to be his right one, because his hat had the initials of F.
S. in it; the same letters were marked, as I heard from the housemaid,
on all his linen; and they were also described by means of brass nails
on the lid of his trunk. However, a few days passed; and I saw that Mr.
Jameson and Mrs. Percy were becoming more and more intimate. They sate
together at meals—they lounged together on the sofa in the
drawing-room—and, as I watched them narrowly, I saw that they exchanged
glances which convinced me that Mr. Hulse had been forgotten by the
faithless lady. Somehow or another I took an immediate hatred to Mr.
Jameson, the moment he set foot in the house; and this feeling was
increased by his harsh and commanding ways towards me. I was moreover
sorry for Mr. Hulse, who had been kind and generous in his behaviour to
me; and I longed to do Jameson some evil turn. The opportunity arrived
sooner than I expected; for one morning—about a fortnight after he had
arrived at the establishment—I was accosted in the street, when going on
an errand, by an ill-looking fellow who was loitering about, and who
said he wanted to speak to me particularly. I asked him his business;
but he would not exactly explain it. He however said he was very anxious
to learn some tidings of a certain gentleman, and that he had received a
hint of the person alluded to being at a boarding-house in Great Russell
Street, under a feigned name. It instantly struck me that the gentleman
thus enquired about was Jameson; and I was moreover convinced, by the
appearance of the enquirer, that he had no good intentions towards the
individual whom he was seeking. I therefore readily gave such
information as convinced the man that Mr. Jameson was the person he was
looking for; and I then learnt, to my astonishment, that this Mr.
Jameson's real name was Frederick Shawe! I now showed myself so much
interested in the affair, and expressed myself in so hostile a way
relative to Mr. Frederick Shawe, that the man at last admitted to me
that he was a sheriffs'-officer's follower, and had a writ against the
man who, I was convinced by all I now heard, was the same that had
treated my deceased parents in so scandalous a manner. We did not part
before we came to an understanding together; and I returned to the
boarding-house, overjoyed to think that the moment of vengeance was not
very far distant.
"The dinner-hour was five o'clock; and on the day of which I am
speaking, there was company present besides the boarders. Mr. Jameson,
as usual, sate next to Mrs. Percy; and his attentions were of the most
amiable description. Had Mr. Hulse returned at the moment, he would not
have been very well pleased at the way in which she received them. But a
storm was brewing over the head of the successful rival; and I was
longing for it to burst. Towards the close of the meal Jameson asked me
for a glass of porter. I pretended not to hear him, and waited on some
one else. He called me again; and when I at length drew near his chair
to serve him, he said in a harsh voice, 'You're very neglectful, John;
and I wonder how Mrs. Turner can keep such a stupid boy in the
house.'—'Then why don't you ask her to discharge me, _Mr. Shawe_?' I
said.—You should have seen how he turned—first as white as a sheet, and
then as red as scarlet.—'_Mr. Jameson_ you mean, John,' exclaimed Mr.
Turner. 'Call gentlemen by their proper names, and don't be rude, sir,
or you shall leave the house directly.'—'I did call _this gentleman_ by
his proper name, sir,' I answered: 'and that name is _Shawe_.'—'The poor
boy is labouring under a mistake,' said Shawe, dreadfully confused and
stammering as he spoke; 'but don't be harsh with him: he did not intend
any harm.'—'I do not want _you_ to speak in favour of me, sir,' I
exclaimed; 'and perhaps you'll guess why, when you know that my name is
_Jeffreys_.'—The villain's countenance now showed the most awful dismay;
and the scene produced great excitement amongst all present. But at that
moment, a knock at the front-door was heard; and I ran to answer it,
well knowing who were there. How my heart beat with joy when I admitted
the officer and his follower (the man I had seen in the morning) into
the house; and, without caring how my master and mistress might take it
on my part, I threw open the dining-room door, led the officers in, and,
pointing to the person they wanted, said, '_This_ is Mr Frederick
Shawe!' The officers instantly arrested him; and a scene of
extraordinary confusion followed. Mrs. Turner fainted in right earnest,
and while several of the ladies flocked round her, others began
tittering and whispering, and Mr. Turner requested Mr. Shawe to pay his
bill before he went to prison. But the conduct of Mrs. Percy was the
most extraordinary part of the whole performance. It is, however, most
probable that she acted in the way she did to conceal her vexation and
annoyance. For, bursting out into a loud laugh, and casting a look of
contempt at the man with whom she was on such good terms a few minutes
before, she expressed her surprise that '_fellows of his stamp_ should
dare to force their way into _genteel society_!'—To be brief, Mr. Turner
could not get the amount of his claim on Shawe, whose trunks he
accordingly detained; and the scoundrel was conveyed away by the
officers. I followed the party to the street-door, and took good care to
let Shawe know that it was I who had betrayed him. The exposure of this
person caused such a sensation in the house, that my share in it created
a feeling of curiosity; and, when questioned by Mr. Turner before all
the company, I explained how he had treated my parents, so that I was
rather praised than blamed for what I had done. But Mrs. Percy applauded
me the most, and spoke warmly in my favour—at which I was very much
pleased.
"Two or three days after this occurrence, Mr. Hulse returned—but only
for a few hours; and during that time he was alone with Mrs. Percy in
the parlour. The nature of their interview was soon known throughout the
house; for it appeared that the news he had brought from his uncle were
favourable, and their engagement was now no longer kept secret. It was
fortunate for the widow that he did not remain in the boarding-house
until their marriage; for, if he had, some kind friend would have been
sure to tell him of the flirtation that had gone on between herself and
the scoundrel Shawe. As it was, every thing turned out well: Mr. Hulse
took and furnished a nice house in Bloomsbury-square, and in a few weeks
he and Mrs. Percy were married. My former services were not forgotten by
either; but, on the contrary, were rewarded on the wedding-day by a
guinea from the gentleman and half that sum from the lady. I had thus
seen the end of this very extraordinary courtship, and being thoroughly
tired of my place, began to look out for another. I accordingly made the
usual enquiries, and heard of several vacancies. My very first
application was successful, and I was engaged by the Honourable Mr.
Ilverton, Mr. Turner giving me a good character and expressing no
dissatisfaction at my desire '_to better myself_.'
"The Honourable Mr. Ilverton resided in St. James's Square. He was a
gentleman of about forty years of age, and was on the point of marriage
with a lady much younger than himself, and who was one of the numerous
daughters of the Marquis of Mountcharlton. But as Mr. Ilverton was very
rich, and the Marquis was but a poor peer, the match was considered a
very desirable one by the friends of Lady Hortensia Stanhope. I heard my
fellow-servants in my new place say that she was a very beautiful
creature; and I longed to see her; but six weeks were yet to elapse
before the celebration of the marriage. The place was a very nice one;
and the establishment was on a large scale. There were six female
servants, and four men, besides the butler and coachman. Two of the
footmen were constantly on duty in the hall, that is, they had nothing
to do for the four hours that their turn lasted, but to look out of the
hall-windows, and attend the front-door. When their four hours expired,
the other two took their place for a like interval. There was a great
deal of aristocratic feeling amongst these servants. The butler had
_his_ room, and the housekeeper had _her_ room; and they took their
meals apart from the rest. The other servants were obliged to say
'_Sir_' to the butler, and '_Ma'am_' to the housekeeper. The cook and
the two housemaids were likewise above the kitchen-maids, who said
'_Miss_' when addressing either one of them. The footmen also considered
themselves above the coachman; but they allowed the latter to take his
meals at their table. As for myself, I was looked upon as a mere child
by the men; and probably by the women too—for they were very much
addicted to fondling me when I happened to be alone with either one of
them.
"Well, the six weeks passed away; and the day came on which Mr. Ilverton
was to be married. The ceremony was performed at St. George's, Hanover
Square; and the 'happy couple,' as the newspapers always call
new-married people, started off for Mr. Ilverton's country-seat. A
fortnight elapsed; and then came the day when the town-mansion was to
receive its new mistress, whom I had not yet seen. I remember the
profound curiosity which I felt on that occasion, my fellow-servants,
who had frequently beheld her, having spoken so high of her beauty. It
was about six o'clock in the evening when they were expected to arrive,
dinner having been provided for seven. I stationed myself in the hall to
obtain as early a view as possible of Lady Hortensia Ilverton; and
shortly after six the carriage drove up to the door. From the
hall-window I saw her ladyship alight; but she had a veil over her face.
I was, however, enabled to admire the beauty of her figure, which was
very finely proportioned; and I thought, as she stepped from the
vehicle, that I had never before seen such a charming foot and ankle.
The loveliness of her form rendered me the more anxious to behold her
face; and this curiosity on my part was soon gratified. For, on entering
the hall, the lady threw back her veil;—but no words can explain the
full extent of my astonishment, when I beheld the very same charming
creature of whom I had once before caught a hasty glimpse at the
doctor's house in Brook Street! A faint exclamation of surprise escaped
my lips; no one however heard it—and I instantly mastered my feelings.
Lady Hortensia passed through the hall, leaning on her husband's arm,
without looking either to the right or to the left;—and as she did not
therefore observe me, I had no opportunity of knowing whether she would
remember me or not.
"It was a part of my duty to help to wait at table; and I longed for the
dinner-hour to arrive, to clear up that point. At length my doubts were
set at rest;—dinner was served up—the lady saw me; and I felt convinced
that she had completely forgotten my face. I was not however quite a
year older than when I saw her at the doctor's, and therefore not much
changed: nevertheless, she evidently did _not_ know me again. I really
felt relieved on her account; for she was such a beautiful creature, and
seemed so amiable, that I should have been sorry for her to have
experienced any annoyance or vexation on my account. During the whole of
dinner, I took my station near her chair, and watched her attentively;
and though she conversed pleasantly enough with her husband when he
started a subject, or addressed himself to her, yet it struck me that
she was not altogether happy—for she seldom commenced a topic of her own
accord, but seemed rather to love silence; and I now and then fancied
that she sighed in a subdued manner. I don't know when I ever felt a
deeper interest in any one than I did in this lady; and it seemed to me
as if I could do any thing to serve her. But I am afraid that I am
tiring you with this long story;"—and Jeffreys abruptly broke off.
"Not at all, old fellow," exclaimed Tim the Snammer. "It's only just
struck twelve by St. George's; and we don't mean to separate yet
awhile."
"No—not quite yet, I should hope," observed Josh Pedler. "Besides I'm
getting deucedly interested in that Lady Hortensia of your's. I all
along expected that the beautiful young creature at the doctor's would
turn up again somehow or another."
"To be sure," said Old Death: "it wouldn't be a regular romance if she
didn't."
"It's all as true as gospel!" cried Jeffreys. "Do you think I could
invent such a pack of curious adventures? If you don't believe what I've
told you already, I'm sure you won't believe what there is to come; and
so I'd better hold my tongue."
"Now don't be angry, my dear boy," said Old Death: "I was but joking. I
like your story amazingly: so pray finish it. We're in no hurry, and
there's plenty of drink."
Jeffreys accordingly complied with the solicitations of his comrades,
and proceeded uninterruptedly to the end of his narrative.