it was a marriage�� not for good, you know."
And she folds her little hands together as she utters the words, and I daresay
once more looks at Philip's portrait.
"Gracious goodness, madam, you must be under some error!" cries the attorney.
"How should a child like you know that the marriage was irregular?"
"Because I had no lines!" cries Caroline quickly. "Never asked for none! And our
maid we had then said to me, 'Miss Carry, where's your lines? And it's no good
without.' And I knew it wasn't! And I'm ready to go before the Lord Chancellor
to-morrow and say so!" cries Caroline, to the bewilderment of her father and her
cross-examinant.
"Pause, pause! my good madam!" exclaims the meek old gentleman, rising from his
chair.
"Go and tell this to them as sent you, sir!" cries Caroline, very imperiously,
leaving the lawyer amazed, and her father's face in a bewilderment, over which
we will fling his snuffy old pocket-handkerchief.
"If such is unfortunately the case��if you actually mean to abide by this
astonishing confession��which deprives you of a high place in society��and��and
casts down the hope we had formed of redressing your injured reputation��I have
nothing for it! I take my leave, madam! Good morning, Mr. Hum!��Mr. Gann!" And
the old lawyer walks out of the Little Sister's room.
"She won't own to the marriage! She is fond of some one else��the little
suicide!" thinks the old lawyer, as he clatters down the street to a
neighbouring house, where his anxious principal is waiting. "She's fond of some
one else!"
Yes. But the some one else whom Caroline loved was Brand Firmin's son: and it
was to save Philip from ruin that the poor Little Sister chose to forget her
marriage to his father.
CHAPTER XIII. LOVE ME LOVE MY DOG.
Whilst the battle is raging, the old folks and ladies peep over the battlements,
to watch the turns of the combat and the behaviour of the knights. To princesses
in old days, whose lovely hands were to be bestowed upon the conqueror, it must
have been a matter of no small interest to know whether the slim young champion
with the lovely eyes on the milk-white steed should vanquish, or the dumpy,
elderly, square-shouldered, squinting, carroty whiskerando of a warrior who was
laying about him so savagely; and so in this battle, on the issue of which
depended the keeping or losing of poor Philip's inheritance, there were several
non-combatants deeply interested. Or suppose we withdraw the chivalrous simile
(as, in fact, the conduct and views of certain parties engaged in the matter
were anything but what we call chivalrous), and imagine a wily old monkey who
engages a cat to take certain chestnuts out of the fire, and pussy putting her
paw through the bars, seizing the nut and then dropping it? Jacko is
disappointed and angry, shows his sharp teeth, and bites if he dares. When the
attorney went down to do battle for Philip's patrimony, some of those who wanted
it were spectators of the fight, and lurking up a tree hard by. When Mr. Bond
came forward to try and seize Phil's chestnuts, there was a wily old monkey who
thrust the cat's paw out, and proposed to gobble up the smoking prize.
If you have ever been at the "Admiral Byng," you know, my dear madam, that the
parlour where the club meets is just behind Mrs. Oves's bar; so that by lifting
up the sash of the window which communicates between the two apartments, that
good-natured woman may put her face into the club-room, and actually be one of
the society. Sometimes, for company, old Mr. Ridley goes and sits with Mrs. O��
in her bar, and reads the paper there. He is slow at his reading. The long words
puzzle the worthy gentleman. As he has plenty of time to spare, he does not
grudge it to the study of his paper.
On the day when Mr. Bond went to persuade Mrs. Brandon in Thornhaugh Street to
claim Dr. Firmin for her husband, and to disinherit poor Philip, a little
gentleman wrapt most solemnly and mysteriously in a great cloak appeared at the
bar of the "Admiral Byng," and said in an aristocratic manner, "You have a
parlour; show me to it:" and being introduced to the parlour (where there are
fine pictures of Oves, and Mrs. O��, and Spotty-nose, their favourite defunct
bull-dog), sat down and called for a glass of sherry and a newspaper.
The civil and intelligent potboy of the "Byng" took the party The Advertiser of
yesterday (which to-day's paper was in 'and); and when the gentleman began to
swear over the old paper, Frederick gave it as his opinion to his mistress that
the new comer was a harbitrary gent��as, indeed, he was, with the omission,
perhaps, of a single letter; a man who bullied everybody who would submit to be
bullied. In fact, it was our friend Talbot Twysden, Esq., Commissioner of the
Powder and Pomatum Office; and I leave those who know him to say whether he is
arbitrary or not.
To him presently came that bland old gentleman, Mr. Bond, who also asked for a
parlour and some sherry and water; and this is how Philip and his veracious and
astute biographer came to know for a certainty that dear uncle Talbot was the
person who wished to��to have Philip's chestnuts.
Mr. Bond and Mr. Twysden had been scarcely a minute together, when such a storm
of imprecations came clattering through the glass-window which communicates with
Mrs. Oves's bar, that I daresay they made the jugs and tumblers clatter on the
shelves, and Mr. Ridley, a very modest-spoken man, reading his paper, lay it
down with a scared face, and say, "Well, I never." Nor did he often, I dare to
say.
This volley was fired by Talbot Twysden, in consequence of his rage at the news
which Mr. Bond brought him.
"Well, Mr. Bond; well, Mr. Bond! What does she say?" he asked of his emissary.
"She will have nothing to do with the business, Mr. Twysden. We can't touch it;
and I don't see how we can move her. She denies the marriage as much as Firmin
does: says she knew it was a mere sham when the ceremony was performed."
"Sir you didn't bribe her enough," shrieked Mr. Twysden. "You have bungled this
business; by George, you have, sir."
"Go and do it yourself, sir, if you are not ashamed to appear in it," says the
lawyer. "You don't suppose I did it because I liked it; or want to take that
poor young fellow's inheritance from him, as you do?"
"I wish justice and the law, sir. If I were wrongfully detaining his property I
would give it up. I would be the first to give it up. I desire justice and law,
and employ you because you are a law agent. Are you not?"
"And I have been on your errand, and shall send in my bill in due time; and
there will be an end of my connection with you as your law agent, Mr. Twysden,"
cried the old lawyer.
"You know, sir, how badly Firmin acted to me in the last matter."
"Faith, sir, if you ask my opinion as a law agent, I don't think there was much
to choose between you. How much is the sherry and water?��keep the change. Sorry
I'd no better news to bring you, Mr. T., and as you are dissatisfied, again
recommend you to
employ another law agent."
"My good sir, I��"
"My good sir, I have had other dealings with your family, and am no more going
to put up with your highti-tightiness than I would with Lord Ringwood's, when I
was one of his law agents. I am not going to tell Mr. Philip Firmin that his
uncle and aunt propose to ease him of his property; but if anybody else
does��that good little Mrs. Brandon��or that old goose Mr. Whatdyoucallem, her
father��I don't suppose he will be over well pleased. I am speaking as a
gentleman now, not as a law agent. You and your nephew had each a half share of
Mr. Philip Firmin's grand-father's property, and you wanted it all, that's the
truth, and set a law agent to get it for you; and swore at him because he could
not get it from its right owner. And so, sir, I wish you a good morning, and
recommend you to take your papers to some other agent, Mr. Twysden." And with
this, exit Mr. Bond. And now, I ask you, if that secret could be kept which was
known through a trembling glass-door to Mrs. Oves of the "Admiral Byng," and to
Mr. Ridley, the father of J. J., and the obsequious husband of Mrs. Ridley.? On
that very afternoon, at tea-time, Mrs. Ridley was made acquainted by her husband
(in his noble and circumlo cutory manner) with the conversation which he had
overheard. It was agreed that an embassy should be sent to J. J. on the
business, and his advice taken regarding it; and J. J.'s opinion was that the
conversation certainly should be reported to Mr. Philip Firmin, who might
afterwards act upon it as he should think best.
What? His own aunt, cousins, and uncle agreed in a scheme to overthrow his
legitimacy, and deprive him of his grandfather's inheritance? It seemed
impossible. Big with the tremendous news, Philip came to his adviser, Mr.
Pendennis, of the Temple, and told him what had occurred on the part of father,
uncle, and Little Sister. Her abnegation had been so noble, that you may be sure
Philip appreciated it; and a tie of friendship was formed between the young man
and the little lady even more close and tender than that which had bound them
previously. But the Twysdens, his kinsfolk, to employ a lawyer in order to rob
him of his inheritance!��Oh, it was dastardly! Philip bawled and stamped, and
thumped his sense of the wrong in his usual energetic manner. As for his cousin
Ringwood Twysden, Phil had often entertained a strong desire to wring his neck
and pitch him downstairs. As for uncle Talbot: that he is an old pump, that he
is a pompous old humbug, and the queerest old sycophant, I grant you; but I
couldn't have believed him guilty of this. And as for the girls��oh, Mrs.
Pendennis, you who are good, you who are kind, although you hate them, I know
you do ��you can't say, you won't say, that they were in the conspiracy?
"But suppose Twysden was asking only for what he conceives to be his rights?"
asked Mr. Pendennis. "Had your father been married to Mrs. Brandon, you would
not have been Dr. Firmin's legitimate son. Had you not been his legitimate son,
you had no right to a half-share of your grandfather's property. Uncle Talbot
acts only the part of honour and justice in the transaction. He is Brutus, and
he orders you off to death, with a bleeding heart."
"And he orders his family out of the way," roars Phil, "so that they mayn't be
pained by seeing the execution! I see it all now. I wish somebody would send a
knife through me at once, and put an end to me. I see it all now. Do you know
that for the last week I have been to Beaunash Street, and found nobody? Agnes
had the bronchitis, and her mother was attending to her; Blanche came for a
minute or two, and was as cool��as cool as I have seen Lady Iceberg be cool to
her. Then they must go away for change of air. They have been gone these three
days: whilst uncle Talbot and that viper of a Ringwood have been closeted with
that nice new friend, Mr. Hunt. O conf��! I beg your pardon, ma'am; but I know
you always allow for the energy of my language."
"I should like to see that Little Sister, Mr. Firmin. She has not been selfish,
or had any scheme but for your good," remarks my wife.
"A little angel who drops her h's��a little heart, so good and tender that I
melt as I think of it," says Philip, drawing his big hand over his eyes. "What
have men done to get the love of some women? We don't earn it; we don't deserve
it, perhaps. We don't return it. They bestow it on us. I have given nothing back
for all this love and kindness, but I look a little like my father of old days,
for whom��for whom she had an attachment. And see now how she would die to serve
me! You are wonderful, women are! your fidelities and your ficklenesses alike
marvellous. What can any woman have found to adore in the doctor? Do you think
my father could ever have been adorable, Mrs. Pendennis? And yet I have heard my
poor mother say she was obliged to marry him. She knew it was a bad match, but
she couldn't resist it. In what was my father so irresistible? He is not to my
taste. Between ourselves, I think he is a�� well, never mind what."
"I think we had best not mind what," says my wife, with a smile.
"Quite right��quite right; only I blurt out everything that is on my mind. Can't
keep it in," cries Phil, gnawing his mustachios. "If my fortune depended on my
silence I should be a beggar, that's the fact. And, you see, if you had such a
father as mine, you yourself would find it rather difficult to hold your tongue
about him. But now, tell me: this ordering away of the girls and aunt Twysden,
whilst the little attack upon my property is being carried on��isn't it queer?"
"The question is at an end," said Mr. Pendennis. "You are restored to your
atavis regibus and ancestral honours. Now that uncle Twysden can't get the
property without you, have courage, my boy��he may take it, along with the
encumbrance."
Poor Phil had not known��but some of us, who are pretty clear-sighted when our
noble selves are not concerned, had perceived that Philip's dear aunt was
playing fast and loose with the lad, and when his back was turned was
encouraging a richer suitor for her daughter.
Hand on heart I can say of my wife, that she meddles with her neighbours as
little as any person I ever knew; but when treacheries in love affairs are in
question, she fires up at once, and would persecute to death almost the
heartless male or female criminal who would break love's sacred laws. The idea
of a man or woman trifling with that holy compact awakens in her a flame of
indignation. In curtain confidences (of which let me not vulgarize the arcana),
she had given me her mind about some of Miss Twysden's behaviour with that
odious blackamoor, as she chose to call Captain Woolcomb, who, I own, had a very
slight tinge of complexion; and when, quoting the words of Hamlet regarding his
father and, mother, I asked, "Could she on this fair mountain leave to feed, and
batten on this Moor?" Mrs. Pendennis cried out that this matter was all too
serious for jest, and wondered how her husband could make word-plays about it.
Perhaps she has not the exquisi
te sense of humour possessed by some folks; or is
it that she has more reverence? In her creed, if not in her church, marriage is
a sacrament; and the fond believer never speaks of it without awe.
Now, as she expects both parties to the marriage engagement to keep that compact
holy, she no more understands trifling with it than she could comprehend
laughing and joking in a church. She has no patience with flirtations as they
are called. "Don't tell me, sir," says the enthusiast, "a light word between a
man and a married woman ought not to be permitted." And this is why she is
harder on the woman than the man, in cases where such dismal matters happen to
fall under discussion. A look, a word from a woman, she says, will check a
libertine thought or word in a man; and these cases might be stopped at once if
the woman but showed the slightest resolution. She is thus more angry (I am only
mentioning the peculiarities, not defending the ethics of this individual
moralist)��she is, I say, more angrily disposed towards the woman than the man
in such delicate cases; and, I am afraid, considers that women are for the most
part only victims because they choose to be so.
Now, we had happened during this season to be at several entertainments, routs,
and so forth, where poor Phil, owing to his unhappy Bohemian preferences and
love of tobacco, was not present��and where we saw Miss Agnes Twysden carrying
on such a game with the tawny Woolcomb, as set Mrs. Laura in a tremor of
indignation. What though Agnes's blue-eyed mamma sat near her blue-eyed daughter
and kept her keen clear orbs perfectly wide open and cognizant of all that
happened? So much the worse for her, the worse for both. It was a shame and a
sin that a Christian English mother should suffer her daughter to deal lightly
with the most holy, the most awful of human contracts; should be preparing her
child who knows for what after misery of mind and soul. Three months ago, you
saw how she encouraged poor Philip, and now see her with this mulatto!
"Is he not a man and a brother, my dear?" perhaps at this Mr. Pendennis
interposes.
"Oh, for shame, Pen, no levity on this��no sneers and laughter on this the most
sacred subject of all." And here, I daresay, the woman falls to caressing her
own children and hugging them to her heart as her manner was when moved. Que
voulez-vous? There are some women in the world to whom love and truth are all in
all here below. Other ladies there are who see the benefit of a good jointure, a
town and country house, and so forth, and who are not so very particular as to
the character, intellect, or complexion of gentlemen who are in a position to
offer their dear girls these benefits. In fine, I say that regarding this
blue-eyed mother and daughter, Mrs. Laura Pendennis was in such a state of mind,
that she was ready to tear their blue eyes out.
Nay, it was with no little difficulty that Mrs. Laura could be induced to hold
her tongue upon the matter and not give Philip her opinion. "What?" she would
ask, "the poor young man is to be deceived and cajoled; to be taken or left as
it suits these people; to be made miserable for life certainly if she marries
him; and his friends are not to dare to warn him? The cowards! The cowardice of
you men, Pen, upon matters of opinion, of you masters and lords of creation, is
really despicable, sir! You dare not have opinions, or holding them you dare not
declare them, and act by them. You compromise with crime every day because you
think it would be officious to declare yourself and interfere. You are not
afraid of outraging morals, but of inflicting ennui upon society, and losing
your popularity. You are as cynical as��as, what was the name of the horrid old
man who lived in the tub��Demosthenes?��well, Diogenes, then, and the name does
not matter a pin, sir. You are as cynical, only you wear fine ruffled shirts and
The Adventures of Philip Page 20