That day, when he called at Brompton, Percival reported to Madame
Dalibard his interview with the eccentric Mr. Tomkins. Lucretia seemed
chafed and disconcerted by the inquiries with which that gentleman had
honoured her, and as soon as Percival had gone, she sent for Varney. He
did not come till late; she repeated to him what St. John had said of
the stranger. Varney participated in her uneasy alarm. The name, indeed,
was unknown to them, nor could they conjecture the bearer of so ordinary
a patronymic; but there had been secrets enough in Lucretia’s life
to render her apprehensive of encountering those who had known her in
earlier years; and Varney feared lest any rumour reported to St. John
might create his mistrust, or lessen the hold obtained upon a victim
heretofore so unsuspicious. They both agreed in the expediency of
withdrawing themselves and St. John as soon as possible from London, and
frustrating Percival’s chance of closer intercourse with the stranger,
who had evidently aroused his curiosity.
The next day Helen was much indisposed; and the symptoms grew so grave
towards the evening that Madame Dalibard expressed alarm, and willingly
suffered Percival (who had only been permitted to see Helen for a few
minutes, when her lassitude was so extreme that she was obliged to
retire to her room) to go in search of a physician. He returned with one
of the most eminent of the faculty. On the way to Brompton, in reply
to the questions of Dr. ----, Percival spoke of the dejection to which
Helen was occasionally subject, and this circumstance confirmed Dr.
----, after he had seen his patient, in his view of the case. In
addition to some feverish and inflammatory symptoms which he trusted his
prescriptions would speedily remove, he found great nervous debility,
and willingly fell in with the casual suggestion of Varney, who was
present, that a change of air would greatly improve Miss Mainwaring’s
general health, as soon as the temporary acute attack had subsided. He
did not regard the present complaint very seriously, and reassured
poor Percival by his cheerful mien and sanguine predictions. Percival
remained at the house the whole day, and had the satisfaction, before
he left, of hearing that the remedies had already abated the fever, and
that Helen had fallen into a profound sleep. Walking back to town with
Varney, the last said hesitatingly,--
“You were saying to me the other day that you feared you should have to
go for a few days both to Vernon Grange and to Laughton, as your steward
wished to point out to you some extensive alterations in the management
of your woods to commence this autumn. As you were so soon coming of
age, Lady Mary desired that her directions should yield to your own.
Now, since Helen is recommended change of air, why not invite Madame
Dalibard to visit you at one of these places? I would suggest Laughton.
My poor mother-in-law I know longs to revisit the scenes of her youth,
and you could not compliment or conciliate her more than by such an
invitation.”
“Oh,” said Percival, joyfully, “it would realize the fondest dream of my
heart to see Helen under the old roof-tree of Laughton; but as my mother
is abroad, and there is therefore no lady to receive them, perhaps--”
“Why,” interrupted Varney, “Madame Dalibard herself is almost the very
person whom les bienseances might induce you to select to do the honours
of your house in Lady Mary’s absence, not only as kinswoman to yourself,
but as the nearest surviving relative of Sir Miles,--the most immediate
descendant of the St. Johns; her mature years and decorum of life, her
joint kindred to Helen and yourself, surely remove every appearance of
impropriety.”
“If she thinks so, certainly; I am no accurate judge of such
formalities. You could not oblige me more, Varney, than in pre-obtaining
her consent to the proposal. Helen at Laughton! Oh, blissful thought!”
“And in what air would she be so likely to revive?” said Varney; but his
voice was thick and husky.
The ideas thus presented to him almost banished anxiety from Percival’s
breast. In a thousand delightful shapes they haunted him during the
sleepless night; and when, the next morning, he found that Helen was
surprisingly better, he pressed his invitation upon Madame Dalibard with
a warmth that made her cheek yet more pale, and the hand, which the boy
grasped as he pleaded, as cold as the dead. But she briefly consented,
and Percival, allowed a brief interview with Helen, had the rapture
to see her smile in a delight as childlike as his own at the news he
communicated, and listen with swimming eye when he dwelt on the walks
they should take together amidst haunts to become henceforth dear to her
as to himself. Fairyland dawned before them.
The visit of the physician justified Percival’s heightened spirits. All
the acuter symptoms had vanished already. He sanctioned his patient’s
departure from town as soon as Madame Dalibard’s convenience would
permit, and recommended only a course of restorative medicines to
strengthen the nervous system, which was to commence with the following
morning, and be persisted in for some weeks. He dwelt much on the effect
to be derived from taking these medicines the first thing in the day, as
soon as Helen woke. Varney and Madame Dalibard exchanged a rapid glance.
Charmed with the success that in this instance had attended the skill
of the great physician, Percival, in his usual zealous benevolence, now
eagerly pressed upon Madame Dalibard the wisdom of consulting Dr.
---- for her own malady; and the doctor, putting on his spectacles and
drawing his chair nearer to the frowning cripple, began to question her
of her state. But Madame Dalibard abruptly and discourteously put a stop
to all interrogatories: she had already exhausted all remedies art could
suggest; she had become reconciled to her deplorable infirmity, and lost
all faith in physicians. Some day or other she might try the baths at
Egra, but till then she must be permitted to suffer undisturbed.
The doctor, by no means wishing to undertake a case of chronic
paralysis, rose smilingly, and with a liberal confession that the German
baths were sometimes extremely efficacious in such complaints, pressed
Percival’s outstretched hand, then slipped his own into his pocket, and
bowed his way out of the room.
Relieved from all apprehension, Percival very good-humouredly received
the hint of Madame Dalibard that the excitement through which she had
gone for the last twenty-four hours rendered her unfit for his society,
and went home to write to Laughton and prepare all things for the
reception of his guests. Varney accompanied him. Percival found Beck
in the hall, already much altered, and embellished, by a new suit of
livery. The ex-sweeper stared hard at Varney, who, without recognizing,
in so smart a shape, the squalid tatterdemalion who had lighted him up
the stairs to Mr. Grabman’s apartments, passed him by into Percival’s
little study, on the ground-floor.
“Well, Beck,” said Percival, ever mindful of others, and attributing his
groom’s astonished gaze at Varney to his admiration of that gentleman’s
showy exterior, “I shall send you down to the country to-morrow with two
of the horses; so you may have to-day to yourself to take leave of
your nurse. I flatter myself you will find her rooms a little more
comfortable than they were yesterday.”
Beck heard with a bursting heart; and his master, giving him a cheering
tap on the shoulder, left him to find his way into the streets and to
Becky’s abode.
He found, indeed, that the last had already undergone the magic
transformation which is ever at the command of godlike wealth. Mrs.
Mivers, who was naturally prompt and active, had had pleasure in
executing Percival’s commission. Early in the morning, floors had been
scrubbed, the windows cleaned, the ventilator fixed; then followed
porters with chairs and tables, and a wonderful Dutch clock, and new
bedding, and a bright piece of carpet; and then came two servants
belonging to Mrs. Mivers to arrange the chattels; and finally, when all
was nearly completed, the Avatar of Mrs. Mivers herself, to give the
last finish with her own mittened hands and in her own housewifely
apron.
The good lady was still employed in ranging a set of teacups on the
shelves of the dresser when Beck entered; and his old nurse, in the
overflow of her gratitude, hobbled up to her foundling and threw her
arms round his neck.
“That’s right!” said Mrs. Mivers, good-humouredly, turning round, and
wiping the tear from her eye. “You ought to make much of him, poor
lad,--he has turned out a godsend indeed; and, upon my word, he looks
very respectable in his new clothes. But what is this,--a child’s
coral?” as, opening a drawer in the dresser, she discovered Beck’s
treasure. “Dear me, it is a very handsome one; why, these bells
look like gold!” and suspicion of her protege’s honesty for a moment
contracted her thoughtful brow. “However on earth did you come by this,
Mrs. Becky?”
“Sure and sartin,” answered Becky, dropping her mutilated courtesy, “I
be’s glad it be found now, instead of sum days afore, or I might have
been vicked enough to let it go with the rest to the pop-shop; and I’m
sure the times out of mind ven that ‘ere boy was a h-urchin that I’ve
risted the timtashung and said, ‘No, Becky Carruthers, that maun’t go to
my h-uncle’s!’”
“And why not, my good woman?”
“Lor’ love you, marm, if that curril could speak, who knows vot it might
say,--eh, lad, who knows? You sees, marm, my good man had not a long
been dead; I could not a get no vork no vays. ‘Becky Carruthers,’ says
I, ‘you must go out in the streets a begging!’ I niver thought I
should a come to that. But my poor husband, you sees, marm, fell from a
scaffol’,--as good a man as hever--”
“Yes, yes, you told me all that before,” said Mrs. Mivers, growing
impatient, and already diverted from her interest in the coral by a
new cargo, all bright from the tinman, which, indeed, no less
instantaneously, absorbed the admiration both of Beck and his nurse.
And what with the inspection of these articles, and the comments each
provoked, the coral rested in peace on the dresser till Mrs. Mivers,
when just about to renew her inquiries, was startled by the sound of the
Dutch clock striking four,--a voice which reminded her of the lapse of
time and her own dinner-hour. So, with many promises to call again and
have a good chat with her humble friend, she took her departure, amidst
the blessings of Becky, and the less noisy, but not less grateful,
salutations of Beck.
Very happy was the evening these poor creatures passed together over
their first cup of tea from the new bright copper kettle and the almost
forgotten luxury of crumpets, in which their altered circumstances
permitted them without extravagance to indulge. In the course of
conversation Beck communicated how much he had been astonished by
recognizing the visitor of Grabman, the provoker of the irritable
grave-stealer, in the familiar companion of his master; and when Becky
told him how often, in the domestic experience her vocation of charing
had accumulated, she had heard of the ruin brought on rich young men by
gamblers and sharpers, Beck promised to himself to keep a sharp eye on
Grabman’s showy acquaintance. “For master is but a babe, like,” said he,
majestically; “and I’d be cut into mincemeat afore I’d let an ‘air on
his ‘ead come to ‘arm, if so be’s h-as ‘ow I could perwent it.”
We need not say that his nurse confirmed him in these good resolutions.
“And now,” said Beck, when the time came for parting, “you’ll keep from
the gin-shop, old ‘oman, and not shame the young master?”
“Sartin sure,” answered Becky; “it is only ven vun is down in the vorld
that vun goes to the Ticker-shop. Now, h-indeed,”--and she looked round
very proudly,--“I ‘as a ‘spectable stashion, and I vould n’t go for to
lower it, and let ‘em say that Becky Carruthers does not know how to
conduct herself. The curril will be safe enuff now; but p’r’aps you had
best take it yourself, lad.”
“Vot should I do vith it? I’ve had enuff of the ‘sponsibility. Put it up
in a ‘ankerchiff, and p’r’aps ven master gets married, and ‘as a babby
vots teethin’, he vil say, ‘Thank ye, Beck, for your curril.’ Vould not
that make us proud, mammy?”
Chuckling heartily at that vision, Beck kissed his nurse, and trying
hard to keep himself upright, and do credit to the dignity of his cloth,
returned to his new room over the stables.