CHAPTER XI.
MRS BAGGETT TRUSTS ONLY IN THE FUNDS.
Mr Whittlestaff, when he was left alone in the long walk, wasdisturbed by many troublesome thoughts. The knowledge that hishousekeeper was out on the road, and that her drunken disreputablehusband was playing the fool for the benefit of all the idlers thathad sauntered out from Alresford to see him, added something to hisgrief. Why should not the stupid woman remain indoors, and allow him,her master, to send for the police? She had declared that she wouldgo with her husband, and he could not violently prevent her. This wasnot much when added to the weight of his care as to Mary Lawrie, butit seemed to be the last ounce destined to break the horse's back, asis the proverbial fate of all last ounces.
Just as he was about to collect his thoughts, so as to resolve whatit might be his duty to do in regard to Mary, Mrs Baggett appearedbefore him on the walk with her bonnet on her head. "What are yougoing to do, you stupid woman?"
"I am a-going with he," she said, in the midst of a torrent of sobsand tears. "It's a dooty. They says if you does your dooty all willcome right in the end. It may be, but I don't see it no further thantaking 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 toPortsmouth in the morning. Why should you want to go with him now?"
"Because you're going to take a missus," said Mrs Baggett, stillsobbing.
"It's more than I know; or you know; or anyone knows," and MrWhittlestaff spoke as though he had nearly reduced himself to hishousekeeper's position.
"Not marry her!" she exclaimed.
"I cannot say. If you will let me alone to manage my own affairs, itwill be best."
"That man has been here interfering. You don't mean to say thatyou're going to be put upon by such a savage as that, as has justcome home from South Africa. Diamonds, indeed! I'd diamond him!I don't believe, not in a single diamond. They're all rubbish andpaste. If you're going to give her up to that fellow, you're not thegentleman I take you for."
"But if I don't marry you won't have to go," he said, unable torefrain from so self-evident an argument.
"Me going! What's me going? What's me or that drunken old reprobateout there to the likes of you? I'd stay, only if it was to see thatMr John Gordon isn't let to put his foot here in this house; andthen 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 shefavours 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 yourmistress?"
"She ain't to be my mistress. I won't have no mistress. When her timeis come, I shall be in the poorhouse at Portsmouth, because I shan'tbe able to earn a penny to buy gin for him." As she said this, MrsBaggett 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, asa lady should do. You wishes it, and she ought to wish it too. Drather! 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. Youshould 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 allyour 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' yourfine 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 themdiamonds 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. Iwouldn't let her see John Gordon again,--never, till she was MrsWhittlestaff. After that she'll never go astray; nor yet won't herthoughts."
"God bless you! Mrs Baggett," he said.
"She's one of them when she's your own she'll remain your own allout. 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 keepher 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 isloving--not that I am lovable. She'll want to do a'most everythingabout the house, and I shall want the same; and her wants are tostand 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 haveno more words with him nor yet with her,--nor yet with yourself. Letit come on just as though it were fixed by fate. It's in your ownhands 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 insoftnesses till he ain't worth nothing, and don't do no good to noone. You can give her bread to eat, and clothes to wear, and can makeher respectable before all men and women. What has he to say? Onlythat he is twenty years younger than you. Love! Rot it! I supposeyou'll come in just now, sir, and see my boxes when they're ready tostart." So saying, she turned round sharply on the path and left him.
In spite of the excellent advice which Mr Whittlestaff had receivedfrom his housekeeper, bidding him not have any more words even withhimself on the matter, he could not but think of all the argumentswhich John Gordon had used to him. According to Mrs Baggett, heought to content himself with knowing that he could find food andraiment and shelter for his intended wife, and also in feeling thathe had her promise, and her assurance that that promise should berespected. There was to him a very rock in all this, upon which hecould build his house with absolute safety. And he did not believeof her that, were he so to act, she would turn round upon him withfuture tears or neglect her duty, because she was ever thinking ofJohn Gordon. He knew that she would be too steadfast for all that,and that even though there might be some sorrow at her heart, itwould be well kept down, out of his sight, out of the sight of theworld 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 mustmaunder. Mrs Baggett had understood accurately the nature of hischaracter; but had not understood that, as was his character, so musthe act. He could not alter his own self. He could not turn round uponhimself, and bid himself be other than he was. It is necessary to bestern and cruel and determined, a man shall say to himself. In thisparticular emergency of my life I will be stern and cruel. Generalgood will come out of such a line of conduct. But unless he be sternand cruel in other matters also,--unless he has been born stern andcruel, or has so trained himself,--he cannot be stern and cruel forthat occasion only. All this Mr Whittlestaff knew of himself. Assure as he was there thinking over John Gordon and Mary Lawrie, wouldhe maunder away his mind in softnesses. He feared it of himself, wassure of it of himself, and hated himself because it was so.
He did acknowledge to himself the truth of the position as assertedby John Gordon. Had the man come but a day earlier, he would havebeen in time to say the first word; and then, as Mr Whittlestaffsaid to himself, there would not for him have been a chance. And insuch case there would have been no reason, as far as Mr Whittlestaffcould see, why John Gordon should be treated other than as a happylover. It was the one day in advance which had given him the strengthof his position. But it was the one day also which had made himweak. He had thought much about Mary for some time past. He had toldhimself that by her means might be procured some cure to the woundin his heart which had made his life miserable for so many years.But had John Gordon come in time, the past misery would only havebeen prolonged, and none would have been the wiser. Even Mrs Baggettwould hav
e held her peace, and not thrown it in his teeth that he hadattempted to marry the girl and had failed. As it was, all the worldof Alresford would know how it had been with him, and all the worldof Alresford as they looked at him would tell themselves that thiswas 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. Butthen he was able to salve his own conscience by telling himself thatwhen John Gordon had run through his diamonds, there would be nothingbut poverty and distress. There was no reason for supposing that thediamonds would be especially short-lived, or that John Gordon wouldprobably be a spendthrift. But diamonds as a source of income arevolatile,--not trustworthy, as were the funds to Mrs Baggett. Andthen the nature of the source of income offered, enabled him to sayso much as a plea to himself. Could he give the girl to a man who hadnothing but diamonds with which to pay his weekly bills? He did tellhimself again and again, that Mary Lawrie should not be encouragedto put her faith in diamonds. But he felt that it was only an excuse.In arguing the matter backwards and forwards, he could not but tellhimself that he did believe in John Gordon.
And then an idea, a grand idea, but one very painful in its beauty,crept into his mind. Even though these diamonds should melt away, andbecome as nothing, there was his own income, fixed and sure as thepolar star, in the consolidated British three per cents. If he reallyloved this girl, could he not protect her from poverty, even were shemarried to a John Gordon, broken down in the article of his diamonds?If he loved her, was he not bound, by some rule of chivalry which hecould not define even to himself, to do the best he could for herhappiness? He loved her so well that he thought that, for her sake,he could abolish himself. Let her have his money, his house, and hishorses. Let her even have John Gordon. He could with a certainfeeling of delight imagine it all. But then he could not abolishhimself. There he would be, subject to the remarks of men. "Thereis he," men would say of him, "who has maundered away his mind insoftnesses;--who in his life has loved two girls, and has, at last,been thrown over by both of them because he has been no better thana soft maundering idiot." It would be thus that his neighbours wouldspeak of him in his vain effort to abolish himself.
It was not yet too late. He had not yielded an inch to this man. Hecould still be stern and unbending. He felt proud of himself in thathe had been stern and unbending, as far as the man was concerned.And as regarded Mary, he did feel sure of her. If there was to beweakness displayed, it would be in himself. Mary would be true to herpromise;--true to her faith, true to the arrangement made for herown life. She would not provoke him with arguments as to her lovefor John Gordon; and, as Mrs Baggett had assured him, even in herthoughts she would not go astray. If it were but for that word, MrsBaggett should not be allowed to leave his house.
But what as to Mary's love? Any such question was maunderingly soft.It was not for him to ask it. He did believe in her altogether, andwas perfectly secure that his name and his honour were safe in herhands. And she certainly would learn to love him. "She'll standthe washing," he said to himself, repeating another morsel of MrsBaggett's wisdom. And thus he made up his mind that he would, on thisoccasion, if only on this occasion, be stern and cruel. Surely a mancould bring himself to sternness and cruelty for once in his life,when so much depended on it.
Having so resolved, he walked back into the house, intending to seeMary Lawrie, and so to speak to her as to give her no idea of theconversation which had taken place between him and John Gordon. Itwould not be necessary, he thought, that he should mention to herJohn Gordon's name any more. Let his marriage go on, as though therewere no such person as John Gordon. It would be easier to be sternand cruel when he could enact the character simply by silence. Hewould hurry on his wedding as quickly as she would allow him, andthen the good thing--the good that was to come out of sternness andcruelty--would be achieved.
He went through from the library to knock at Mary's door, and indoing so, had to pass the room in which Mrs Baggett had slepttranquilly for fifteen years. There, in the doorway, was a big trunk,and in the lock of the door was a key. A brilliant idea at onceoccurred to Mr Whittlestaff. He shoved the big box in with his foot,locked the door, and put the key in his pocket. At that moment theheads of the gardener and the groom appeared up the back staircase,and after them Mrs Baggett.
"Why, Mrs Baggett, the door is locked!" said the gardener.
"It is, to be sure," said the groom. "Why, Mrs Baggett, you musthave the key in your own pocket!"
"I ain't got no such thing. Do you bring the box down with you."
"I have got the key in my pocket," said Mr Whittlestaff, in a voiceof much authority. "You may both go down. Mrs Baggett's box is notto be taken out of that room to-day."
"Not taken out! Oh, Mr Whittlestaff! Why, the porter is here withhis barrow to take it down to the station."
"Then the porter must have a shilling and go back again empty." Andso he stalked on, to bid Miss Lawrie come to him in the library.
"I never heard of such a go in all my life;--and he means it, too,"said Thornybush, the gardener.
"I never quite know what he means," said Hayonotes, the groom; "buthe's always in earnest, whatever it is. I never see one like themaster for being in earnest. But he's too deep for me in his meaning.I suppose we is only got to go back." So they retreated down thestairs, leaving Mrs Baggett weeping in the passage.
"You should let a poor old woman have her box," she said, whining toher master, whom she followed to the library.
"No; I won't! You shan't have your box. You're an old fool!"
"I know I'm an old fool;--but I ought to have my box."
"You won't have it. You may just go down and get your dinner. Whenyou want to go to bed, you shall have the key."
"I ought to have my box, Miss Mary. It's my own box. What am I to dowith Baggett? They have given him more gin out there, and he's asdrunk as a beast. I think I ought to have my own box. Shall I tellThornybush as he may come back? The train'll be gone, and then whatam I to do with Baggett? He'll get hisself that drunk, you won't beable to stir him. And it is my own box, Mr Whittlestaff?"
To all which Mr Whittlestaff turned a deaf ear. She should find thatthere was no maundering softness with him now. He felt within his ownbosom that it behoved him to learn to become stern and cruel. He knewthat the key was in his pocket, and found that there was a certainsatisfaction in being stern and cruel. Mrs Baggett might sob herheart out after her box, and he would decline to be moved.
"What'll I do about Baggett, sir?" said the poor woman, coming back."He's a lying there at the gate, and the perlice doesn't like totouch him because of you, sir. He says as how if you could take himinto the stables, he'd sleep it off among the straw. But then he'd bejust as bad after this first go, to-morrow."
To this, however, Mr Whittlestaff at once acceded. He saw a way outof the immediate difficulty. He therefore called Hayonotes to him,and succeeded in explaining his immediate meaning. Hayonotes andthe policeman between them lifted Baggett, and deposited the man inan empty stall, where he was accommodated with ample straw. And anorder was given that as soon as he had come to himself, he should beprovided with something to eat.
"Summat to eat!" said Mrs Baggett, in extreme disgust. "Provide himwith a lock-up and plenty of cold water!"
An Old Man's Love Page 11