An Old Man's Love
enabling myself to marry her; that I had been wonderfully successful;
that I had come back with no other hope in the world than that of
giving it all to her; that I had been able to show you my whole life,
so that no girl need be afraid to become my wife--"
"What do I know about your life? You may have another wife living at
this moment."
"No doubt; I may be guilty of any amount of villainy, but then, as
her friend, you should make inquiry. You would not break a girl's
heart because the man to whom she is attached may possibly be a
rogue. In this case you have no ground for the suspicion."
"I never heard of a man who spoke of himself so grandiloquently!"
"But there is ample reason why you should make inquiry. In truth, as
I said before, it is her happiness and not mine nor your own that you
should look to. If she has taken your offer because you had been good
to her in her desolation,--because she had found herself unable to
refuse aught to one who had treated her so well; if she had done
all this, believing that I had disappeared from her knowledge, and
doubting altogether my return; if it be so--and you know that it is
so--then you should hesitate before you lead her to her doom."
"You heard her say that I was not to believe any of these things
unless I got them from her own mouth?"
"I did; and her word should go for nothing either with you or with
me. She has promised, and is willing to sacrifice herself to her
promise. She will sacrifice me too because of your goodness,--and
because she is utterly unable to put a fair value upon herself. To me
she is all the world. From the first hour in which I saw her to the
present, the idea of gaining her has been everything. Put aside the
words which she just spoke, what is your belief of the state of her
wishes?"
"I can tell you my belief of the state of her welfare."
"There your own prejudice creeps in, and I might retaliate by
charging you with vanity as you have done me,--only that I think
such vanity very natural. But it is her you should consult on such a
matter. She is not to be treated like a child. Of whom does she wish
to become the wife? I boldly say that I have won her love, and that
if it be so, you should not desire to take her to yourself. You have
not answered me, nor can I expect you to answer me; but look into
yourself and answer it there. Think how it will be with you, when the
girl who lies upon your shoulder shall be thinking ever of some other
man from whom you have robbed her. Good-bye, Mr Whittlestaff. I do
not doubt but that you will turn it all over in your thoughts." Then
he escaped by a wicket-gate into the road at the far end of the long
walk, and was no more heard of at Croker's Hall on that day.
CHAPTER XI.
MRS BAGGETT TRUSTS ONLY IN THE FUNDS.
Mr Whittlestaff, when he was left alone in the long walk, was
disturbed by many troublesome thoughts. The knowledge that his
housekeeper was out on the road, and that her drunken disreputable
husband was playing the fool for the benefit of all the idlers that
had sauntered out from Alresford to see him, added something to his
grief. Why should not the stupid woman remain indoors, and allow him,
her master, to send for the police? She had declared that she would
go with her husband, and he could not violently prevent her. This was
not much when added to the weight of his care as to Mary Lawrie, but
it seemed to be the last ounce destined to break the horse's back, as
is the proverbial fate of all last ounces.
Just as he was about to collect his thoughts, so as to resolve what
it might be his duty to do in regard to Mary, Mrs Baggett appeared
before him on the walk with her bonnet on her head. "What are you
going to do, you stupid woman?"
"I am a-going with he," she said, in the midst of a torrent of sobs
and tears. "It's a dooty. They says if you does your dooty all will
come right in the end. It may be, but I don't see it no further than
taking him back to Portsmouth."
"What on earth are you going to Portsmouth for now? And why? why now?
He's not more drunk than he has been before, nor yet less abominable.
Let the police lock him up for the night, and send him back to
Portsmouth in the morning. Why should you want to go with him now?"
"Because you're going to take a missus," said Mrs Baggett, still
sobbing.
"It's more than I know; or you know; or anyone knows," and Mr
Whittlestaff spoke as though he had nearly reduced himself to his
housekeeper's position.
"Not marry her!" she exclaimed.
"I cannot say. If you will let me alone to manage my own affairs, it
will be best."
"That man has been here interfering. You don't mean to say that
you're going to be put upon by such a savage as that, as has just
come home from South Africa. Diamonds, indeed! I'd diamond him!
I don't believe, not in a single diamond. They're all rubbish and
paste. If you're going to give her up to that fellow, you're not the
gentleman I take you for."
"But if I don't marry you won't have to go," he said, unable to
refrain from so self-evident an argument.
"Me going! What's me going? What's me or that drunken old reprobate
out there to the likes of you? I'd stay, only if it was to see that
Mr John Gordon isn't let to put his foot here in this house; and
then I'd go. John Gordon, indeed! To come up between you and her,
when you had settled your mind and she had settled hern! If she
favours John Gordon, I'll tear her best frock off her back."
"How dare you speak in that way of the lady who is to be your
mistress?"
"She ain't to be my mistress. I won't have no mistress. When her time
is come, I shall be in the poorhouse at Portsmouth, because I shan't
be able to earn a penny to buy gin for him." As she said this, Mrs
Baggett sobbed bitterly.
"You're enough to drive a man mad. I don't know what it is you want,
or you don't want."
"I wishes to see Miss Lawrie do her dooty, and become your wife, as
a lady should do. You wishes it, and she ought to wish it too. Drat
her! If she is going back from her word--"
"She is not going back from her word. Nothing is more excellent,
nothing more true, nothing more trustworthy than Miss Lawrie. You
should not allow yourself to speak of her in such language."
"Is it you, then, as is going back?"
"I do not know. To tell the truth, Mrs Baggett, I do not know."
"Then let me tell you, sir. I'm an old woman whom you've known all
your life pretty nigh, and you can trust me. Don't give up to none of
'em. You've got her word, and keep her to it. What's the good o' your
fine feelings if you're to break your heart. You means well by her,
and will make her happy. Can you say as much for him? When them
diamonds is gone, what's to come next? I ain't no trust in diamonds,
not to live out of, but only in the funds, which is reg'lar. I
wouldn't let her see John Gordon again,--never, till she was Mrs
Whittlestaff. After that she'll never go astray; nor yet won't her
thoughts."
"God bless you! Mrs Baggett," he said.
"She's one of them when she's your own she'll remain your own all
out. She'll stand the washing. I'm an old woman, and I knows 'em."
"And yet you cannot live with such a lady as her?"
"No! if she was one of them namby-pambys as'd let an old woman keep
her old place, it might do."
"She shall love you always for what you said just now."
"Love me! I don't doubt her loving me. She'll love me because she is
loving--not that I am lovable. She'll want to do a'most everything
about the house, and I shall want the same; and her wants are to
stand uppermost,--that is, if she is to be Mrs Whittlestaff."
"I do not know; I have to think about it."
"Don't think about it no more; but just go in and do it. Don't have
no more words with him nor yet with her,--nor yet with yourself. Let
it come on just as though it were fixed by fate. It's in your own
hands now, sir, and don't you be thinking of being too good-natured;
there ain't no good comes from it. A man may maunder away his mind in
softnesses till he ain't worth nothing, and don't do no good to no
one. You can give her bread to eat, and clothes to wear, and can make
her respectable before all men and women. What has he to say? Only
that he is twenty years younger than you. Love! Rot it! I suppose
you'll come in just now, sir, and see my boxes when they're ready to
start." So saying, she turned round sharply on the path and left him.
In spite of the excellent advice which Mr Whittlestaff had received
from his housekeeper, bidding him not have any more words even with
himself on the matter, he could not but think of all the arguments
which John Gordon had used to him. According to Mrs Baggett, he
ought to content himself with knowing that he could find food and
raiment and shelter for his intended wife, and also in feeling that
he had her promise, and her assurance that that promise should be
respected. There was to him a very rock in all this, upon which he
could build his house with absolute safety. And he did not believe
of her that, were he so to act, she would turn round upon him with
future tears or neglect her duty, because she was ever thinking of
John Gordon. He knew that she would be too steadfast for all that,
and that even though there might be some sorrow at her heart, it
would be well kept down, out of his sight, out of the sight of the
world at large, and would gradually sink out of her own sight too.
But if it be given to a man "to maunder away his mind in softnesses,"
he cannot live otherwise than as nature has made him. Such a man must
maunder. Mrs Baggett had understood accurately the nature of his
character; but had not understood that, as was his character, so must
he act. He could not alter his own self. He could not turn round upon
himself, and bid himself be other than he was. It is necessary to be
stern and cruel and determined, a man shall say to himself. In this
particular emergency of my life I will be stern and cruel. General
good will come out of such a line of conduct. But unless he be stern
and cruel in other matters also,--unless he has been born stern and
cruel, or has so trained himself,--he cannot be stern and cruel for
that occasion only. All this Mr Whittlestaff knew of himself. As
sure as he was there thinking over John Gordon and Mary Lawrie, would
he maunder away his mind in softnesses. He feared it of himself, was
sure of it of himself, and hated himself because it was so.
He did acknowledge to himself the truth of the position as asserted
by John Gordon. Had the man come but a day earlier, he would have
been in time to say the first word; and then, as Mr Whittlestaff
said to himself, there would not for him have been a chance. And in
such case there would have been no reason, as far as Mr Whittlestaff
could see, why John Gordon should be treated other than as a happy
lover. It was the one day in advance which had given him the strength
of his position. But it was the one day also which had made him
weak. He had thought much about Mary for some time past. He had told
himself that by her means might be procured some cure to the wound
in his heart which had made his life miserable for so many years.
But had John Gordon come in time, the past misery would only have
been prolonged, and none would have been the wiser. Even Mrs Baggett
would have held her peace, and not thrown it in his teeth that he had
attempted to marry the girl and had failed. As it was, all the world
of Alresford would know how it had been with him, and all the world
of Alresford as they looked at him would tell themselves that this
was the man who had attempted to marry Mary Lawrie, and had failed.
It was all true,--all that John Gordon alleged on his own behalf. But
then he was able to salve his own conscience by telling himself that