CHAPTER X.
REACHING HOME.
Early in their journeyings together, Mrs. Cox had learned fromGeorge that he was possessed of an eccentric old uncle; and not longafterwards, she had learned from Arthur that this uncle was veryrich, that he was also childless, and that he was supposed to be veryfond of his nephew. Putting all these things together, knowing thatBertram had no profession, and thinking that therefore he must bea rich man, she had considered herself to be acting with becomingprudence in dropping Major Biffin for his sake.
But on the day after the love scene recorded in the last chapter, astrange change came over the spirit of her dream. "I am a very poorman," Bertram had said to her, after making some allusion to what hadtaken place.
"If that were all, that would make no difference with me," said Mrs.Cox, magnanimously.
"If that were all, Annie! What does that mean?"
"If I really loved a man, I should not care about his being poor. Butyour poverty is what I should call riches, I take it."
"No, indeed. My poverty is absolute poverty. My own present income isabout two hundred a year."
"Oh, I don't understand the least about money myself. I never did.I was such a child when I was married to Cox. But I thought, Mr.Bertram, your uncle was very rich."
"So he is; as rich as a gold-mine. But we are not very goodfriends--at any rate, not such friends as to make it probable that hewill leave me a farthing. He has a granddaughter of his own."
This, and a little more of the same kind, taught Mrs. Cox that itbehoved her to be cautious. That Major Biffin had a snug littleincome over and above that derived from his profession was a factthat had been very well ascertained. That he was very dry, as dry asa barber's block, might be true. That George Bertram was an amusingfellow, and made love in much better style than the major, certainlywas true. But little as she might know about money, Mrs. Cox did knowthis--that when poverty comes in at the door, love flies out at thewindow; that eating and drinking are stern necessities; that lovein a cottage is supposed to be, what she would call, bosh; and thather own old home used to be very unpleasant when Cox was in debt,and those eastern Jewish harpies would come down upon him with hisoverdue bills. Considering all this, Mrs. Cox thought it mightbe well not to ratify her engagement with Mr. Bertram till afterthey should reach Southampton. What if Biffin--the respectableBiffin--should again come forward!
And so they went on for a few days longer. Bertram, when they weretogether, called her Annie, and once again asked her whether sheloved him. "Whether I do, or whether I do not, I shall give you noanswer now," she had said, half laughing. "We have both been veryfoolish already, and it is time that we should begin to have oursenses. Isn't it?" But still she sat next him at dinner, and stillshe walked with him. Once, indeed, he found her saying a word toMajor Biffin, as that gentleman stood opposite to her chair uponthe deck. But as soon as the major's back was turned, she said toBertram, "I think the barber's block wants to be new curled, doesn'tit? I declare the barber's man has forgotten to comb out it'swhiskers." So that Bertram had no ground for jealousy of the major.
Somewhere about this time, Mrs. Price deserted them at dinner. Shewas going to sit, she said, with Mrs. Bangster, and Dr. Shaughnessey,and the judge. Mrs. Bangster had made a promise to old Mr. Price inEngland to look after her; and, therefore, she thought it better togo back to Mrs. Bangster before they reached Southampton. They werenow past Gibraltar. So on that day, Mrs. Price's usual chair atdinner was vacant, and Wilkinson, looking down the tables, saw thatroom had been made for her next to Dr. Shaughnessey. And on her otherside, sat Captain M'Gramm, in despite of Mrs. Bangster's motherlycare and of his own wife at home. On the following morning, Mrs.Price and Captain M'Gramm were walking the deck together just as theyhad been used to do on the other side of Suez.
And so things went on till the day before their arrival atSouthampton. Mrs. Cox still kept her seat next to Bertram, andopposite to Wilkinson, though no other lady remained to countenanceher. She and Bertram still walked the deck arm in arm; but theirwhisperings were not so low as they had been, nor were their words sosoft, nor, indeed, was the temper of the lady so sweet. What if sheshould have thrown away all the advantages of the voyage! What if shehad fallen between two stools! She began to think that it would bebetter to close with one or with the other--with the one despite hispoverty, or with the other despite his head.
And now it was the evening of the last day. They had sighted thecoast of Devonshire, and the following morning would see themwithin the Southampton waters. Ladies had packed their luggage;subscriptions had been made for the band; the captain's health hadbeen drunk at the last dinner; and the mail boxes were being piledbetween the decks.
"Well, it is nearly over," said Mrs. Cox, as she came upon deck afterdinner, warmly cloaked. "How cold we all are!"
"Yes; it is nearly over," answered Bertram. "What an odd life ofitself one of these voyages is! How intimate people are who willnever see each other again!"
"Yes; that is the way, I suppose. Oh, Mr. Bertram!"
"Well, what would you have?"
"Ah, me! I hardly know. Fate has ever been against me, and I knowthat it will be so to the last."
"Is it not cold?" said Bertram, buttoning up a greatcoat as he spoke.
"Very cold! very cold!" said Mrs. Cox. "But there is something muchcolder than the weather--very much colder."
"You are severe, Mrs. Cox."
"Yes. It is Mrs. Cox here. It was Annie when we were off Gibraltar.That comes of being near home. But I knew that it would be so. I hatethe very idea of home." And she put her handkerchief to her eyes.
She had had her chance as far as Bertram was concerned, and had letit pass from her. He did not renew his protestations; but in lieuof doing so, lit a cigar, and walked away into the fore-part of thevessel. "After all, Arthur is right," said he to himself; "marriageis too serious a thing to be arranged in a voyage from Alexandria toSouthampton."
But luckily for Mrs. Cox, everybody did not think as he did. He hadgone from her ruthlessly, cruelly, falsely, with steps which soundedas though there were triumph in his escape, and left her seatedalone near the skylights. But she was not long alone. As she lookedafter him along the deck, the head of Major Biffin appeared to her,emerging from the saloon stairs. She said nothing to herself nowabout barber's blocks or uncurled whiskers.
"Well, Mrs. Cox," said the major, accosting her.
"Well, Major Biffin;" and the major thought that he saw in her eyesome glimpse of the smile as of old.
"We are very near home now, Mrs. Cox," said the major.
"Very near indeed," said Mrs. Cox. And then there was a slight pause,during which Major Biffin took an opportunity of sitting down notvery far from his companion.
"I hope you have enjoyed your voyage," said he.
"Which voyage?" she asked.
"Oh! your voyage home from Alexandria--your voyage since you made theacquaintance of Mr.--what's his name, the parson's cousin?"
"Mr. What's-his-name, as you call him, is nothing to me, I can assureyou, Major Biffin. His real name, however, is Bertram. He has beenvery civil when some other people were not inclined to be so, that isall."
"Is that all? The people here do say--"
"Then I tell you what, Major Biffin, I do not care one straw what thepeople say--not one straw. You know whose fault it has been if I havebeen thrown with this stranger. Nobody knows it as well. And mindthis, Major Biffin, I shall always do as I like in such matterswithout reference to you or to any one else. I am my own mistress."
"And do you mean to remain so?"
"Ask no questions, and then you'll be told no stories."
"That's civil."
"If you don't like it, you had better go, for there's more to followof the same sort."
"You are very sharp to-night."
"Not a bit sharper than I shall be to-morrow."
"One is afraid even to speak to you now."
"Then one had better hold on
e's tongue."
Mrs. Cox was receiving her suitor rather sharply; but she probablyknew his disposition. He did not answer her immediately, but satbiting the top of his cane. "I'll tell you what it is, Mrs. Cox," hesaid at last, "I don't like this kind of thing."
"Don't you, Mr. Biffin? And what kind of thing do you like?"
"I like you."
"Psha! Tell me something new, if you must tell me anything."
"Come, Annie; do be serious for a moment. There isn't much time leftnow, and I've come to you in order that I may get a plain answer."
"If you want a plain answer, you'd better ask a plain question. Idon't know what you mean."
"Will you have me? That's a plain question, or the deuce is in it."
"And what should I do with you?"
"Why, be Mrs. Biffin, of course."
"Ha! ha! ha! And it has come to that, has it? What was it you said toDr. O'Shaughnessey when we were off Point de Galle?"
"Well, what did I say?"
"I know what you said well enough. And so do you, too. If I servedyou right, I should never speak to you again."
"A man doesn't like to be humbugged, you know, before a whole shipfulof people," said the major, defending himself.
"And a woman likes it just as little, Major Biffin; please toremember that."
"Well; I'm sure you've been down upon me long enough."
"Not a bit longer than you deserved. You told O'Shaughnessey, that itwas all very well to amuse yourself, going home. I hope you like youramusement now. I have liked mine very well, I can assure you."
"I don't think so bad of you as to believe you care for that fellow."
"There are worse fellows than he is, Major Biffin. But there, I havehad my revenge; and now if you have anything to say, I'll give you ananswer."
"I've only to say, Annie, that I love you better than any woman inthe world."
"I may believe as much of that as I like."
"You may believe it all. Come, there's my hand."
"Well, I suppose I must forgive you. There's mine. Will that pleaseyou?"
Major Biffin was the happiest man in the world, and Mrs. Cox went toher berth that night not altogether dissatisfied. Before she did so,she had the major's offer in writing in her pocket; and had shown itto Mrs. Price, with whom she was now altogether reconciled.
"I only wish, Minnie, that there was no Mrs. M'Gramm," said she.
"He wouldn't be the man for me at all, my dear; so don't let thatfret you."
"There's as good fish in the sea as ever were caught yet; eh,Minnie?"
"Of course there are. Though of course you think there never was sucha fish as Biffin."
"He'll do well enough for me, Minnie; and when you catch a bigger,and a better, I won't begrudge him you."
That night Mrs. Cox took her evening modicum of creature-comfortssitting next to her lover, the major; and our two friends were leftalone by themselves. The news had soon spread about the ship, and tothose ladies who spoke to her on the subject, Mrs. Cox made no secretof the fact. Men in this world catch their fish by various devices;and it is necessary that these schemes should be much studied beforea man can call himself a fisherman. It is the same with women; andMrs. Cox was an Izaak Walton among her own sex. Had she not tied herfly with skill, and thrown her line with a steady hand, she wouldnot have had her trout in her basket. There was a certain amount ofhonour due to her for her skill, and she was not ashamed to acceptit.
"Good-night, Mrs. Cox," Bertram said to her that evening, with agood-humoured tone; "I hear that I am to congratulate you."
"Good-night," said she, giving him her hand. "And I'll say good-bye,too, for we shall all be in such a flurry to-morrow morning. I'm sureyou think I've done the right thing--don't you? And, mind this, Ishall hope to see you some day." And so saying, she gave him a kindlygrasp, and they parted. "Done right!" said Bertram; "yes, I supposeshe has; right enough at least as far as I am concerned. After all,what husband is so convenient as a barber's block?"
On the following morning they steamed up the Southampton river, andat nine o'clock they were alongside the quay. All manner of peoplehad come on board in boats, and the breakfast was eaten in greatconfusion. But few of the ladies were to be seen. They had tea androlls in their own cabins, and did not appear till the last moment.Among these were Mrs. Cox and Mrs. Price.
These ladies during their journey home had certainly not beenwoe-begone, either in personal appearance or in manner. And who wouldhave the heart to wish that they should be so? They had been dressedas young ladies on board ship usually do dress, so that theirwidowhood had been forgotten; and, but for their babies, theirwifehood might have been forgotten also.
But now they were to be met by family friends--by friends who werethinking of nothing but their bereavements. Old Mr. Price cameto meet them on board, and Mrs. Cox's uncle; old gentlemen withfaces prepared for sadness, and young ladies with sympathetichandkerchiefs. How signally surprised the sad old gentlemen and thesympathetic young ladies must have been!
Not a whit! Just as our friends were about to leave the ship thatmorning, with all their luggage collected round them, they werestartled by the apparition of two sombre female figures, buried inmost sombre tokens of affliction. Under the deep crape of their heavyblack bonnets were to be seen that chiefest sign of heavy femalewoe--a widow's cap. What signal of sorrow that grief holds out, evermoves so much as this? Their eyes were red with weeping, as couldbe seen when, for a moment, their deep bordered handkerchiefs wereallowed to fall from their faces. Their eyes were red with weeping,and the agonizing grief of domestic bereavement sat chiselled onevery feature. If you stood near enough, your heart would melt at thesound of their sobs.
Alas! that forms so light, that creatures so young, should need to beshrouded in such vestments! They were all crape, that dull, weeping,widow's crape, from the deck up to their shoulders. There they stood,monuments of death, living tombs, whose only sign of life was intheir tears. There they stood, till they might fall, vanquished bythe pangs of memory, into the arms of their respective relations.
They were Mrs. Cox and Mrs. Price. Bertram and Wilkinson, as theypassed them, lifted their hats and bowed, and the two ladiesobserving them, returned their salutation with the coldest propriety.
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