Chapter XV.
Mr. Honeywood's Fancies.
Though the Sun had not yet risen, I found a bright little Fire already kindled in the Parlour, and the little oval Table drawn close to it, and spread for Breakfast, with strong Tea and hot Toast awaiting me on the Hob. I felt very grateful to Prudence for this Kindness; and had scarce seated myself when I heard the soft Tap of my Mother's Ivory-headed Walking-cane as she came down Stairs. I hastened to receive her; she kissed my Forehead, and then looked at me with anxious Affection.
"You are weary, my dear Love," said she, "and no wonder. What kind of a Night?"
"He was feverish, dear Mother."
"And wandering, doubtless—I see it was so. Were you frightened?"
"Not much—you know I had nursed Gatty."
"Ah, poor Gatty!—a very different Patient—"
"Yes, Mother; but his Ramblings gave me no Distress, except as they betokened the height of his Fever—He fancied himself playing Cards:—and seemed to think People were dancing. He spoke very kindly of you."
My Mother wiped her Eyes. "That has been the solitary Alleviation all along," said she. "His old Liking for me has returned."
After we had breakfasted, she accompanied me to his Chamber: "Ah, you're come at last," said my Father, feebly extending his Hand to her, "I was wearying of Prue's Sighs."
"Dear Father, I haven't been sighing," said Prudence, hastily.
"Oh, haven't you though, Mrs. Prue?"—She put her Hand before her Eyes, and silently quitted the Room.
"My Love, how are you?" says my Mother to him.
"I've had fine Company all Night, Mrs. Honeywood. I've been to the queerest Ball!—Ah, you think I'm wandering, but I'm not—my Head is as clear as yours. At twelve o'Clock at Night, a Flourish of Tin Trumpets announced the Commencement of the Entertainment."
My Mother looked at me in Distress.
"An old Joss in the Corner," continues he, "played the Hautboy. A Mandarin kept Time, nodding his Head. Then, down came the Five Senses—you think I've lost mine, but I haven't!—followed by the Shepherds and Shepherdesses, all in Chelsea China, and took their respective Places. A Row of Dresden Cups were the Bystanders, backed by some richly painted Plates against the Wall. Bang! went the Drum. The Ball immediately opened, and I knew not which Dancer most to admire. Such sinking! such rising! such easy Turns and Inflections; such pointing of Toes and presenting of Hands! Meantime, the Music plays faster and faster; the Joss blows himself out of Breath, the Mandarin niddle-noddles, till it makes one's Head spin to look at him. Down falls a Dragon and gets cracked; the others fall and sprawl over him; never mind, he's up again, and they're at it harder than ever. Hands across, down the Middle, turn the Corners and pousette! My Head is too weak to bear it; a small Cream-Ewer invites me into the Card-room. Gratefully I accept it, when one of the Senses assails me, insisting I shall dance the Minuet de la Cour. I put her aside, she returns, I burst from her, she pursues; I hurry into the Card-room, where four respectable Chinese are playing at Loo. They make Room for me, I sit down, we get on very comfortably together; when lo you! in burst the Five Senses again, calling me a Recreant, and I know not what all, plucking at me, nipping, pinching, grinning in my Face; the Music playing furiously all the While—They cry out the Prices at which I bought them; one of them names the wrong Sum. I exclaim, 'That's false!' and give her a Cuff that breaks her all to smash. 'Going, going, going, gone!' cries the Auctioneer in the Corner. Down goes his Hammer: the Ball is ended. Why, Mrs. Honeywood, Ma'am, you're crying!"
Just then, Dr. Elwes very opportunely came in, with his grave, kind Face. The Sound of his Voice seemed to re-collect my Father's scattered Faculties; he did not appear half so bad as he had done before; nevertheless, I could see the good Physician thought unfavourably of him. In short, for several Days he hung between Life and Death; after that, he wandered no more, and slowly amended; requiring incessant and vigilant Nursing.
It was one Day, when Prue and my Mother had insisted on my going down Stairs for a little Change, that, on entering the Parlour, I suddenly came on Mr. Fenwick. "Ah!"—said he, and held out his Hand. Overcome by the Surprise, I turned aside my Head, and burst into Tears. The next Moment, his Arm was round my Waist; and as quickly withdrawn.
"Dear Patty!" said he.
I drew back, and would have left the Room, but he gently detained me, and led me to a Chair next the Fire.
"I was quite unprepared to hear of this domestic Calamity," said he, "and have been greatly moved by it. Your good Mother has been telling me how admirably you have behaved. She wept about it, and said never was such a Daughter."
This set my Tears flowing again—I said there was Nothing out of the Common in a Daughter's tending of a Parent she loved. He did not dwell on it; but went on to talk as only a good, feeling, and faithful Minister, a holy, high-minded, heavenly spirited Servant of God can talk. I know not how long this delightful Conversation lasted; perhaps an Hour; and when he went away, he said he would soon come again. From that Moment, I was a new Creature: quite fresh, quite able to return anew to my Post. My Heart was full of Peace. If the Body sometimes bears down the Mind, the Mind sometimes wondrously sustains the Body.
This was, however, a joyless Christmas to us all. Not one of the Family was able to leave the House to go to Church; and though roast Beef and Plum-pudding were dressed, they were sparingly and sadly partaken of. My loved Mother forgot not, however, to send Portions to sundry poor Widows and Mothers who were habituated to come to us for our stale Pastry, Broken-meat, and Cinders.
When my Father began to recover a little, he became curious to hear me talk about my Visit to Larkfield; and he made me minutely describe Gatty's Family, and the Family at Roaring House. In a very little While he settled it to his own Satisfaction that Gatty would some Day be Mrs. Heavitree. But when he heard of her being recalled to Servitude by Lady Betty, of her perilous, protracted Journey, and of her finding my Lady in the Small-Pox, he became greatly perturbed. "What," says he, "have not one of you had so much Humanity nor even so much Curiosity, (a Quality, one would think, not often lacking in your Sex,) as to ascertain whether this poor Girl sink or swim?"
"Dear Father, we have been so busied about you...."
"Fiddlesticks' Ends! I have never had more than one of you about me at a Time; and has everything else been at a Stand-still? Have your Shop-shutters been put up, have your Customers been kept out, have you intermitted your Baking and your Milking? Pshaw! I'm nauseated with such a false Excuse. If you couldn't go, you might write; if you could not write, you might send; if you could not spare one of the Men, you might have sent a Boy for Two-pence. Let me hear by To-morrow Morning, I insist upon't, whether Mrs. Gatty be alive or dead."
He was quite in a Turmoil about it, and for my Part, I was glad enough to be commissioned to send; and as Peter knew the House, I contrived he should go that same Afternoon, and ask for Mr. James, and inquire how fared Mrs. Gatty and Lady Betty—bidding him be sure he put Lady Betty's Name first, or they would think we knew no Manners.
So he went, and brought back Word, with Mr. James' Services, that my Lady was still very ill, and still kept her Chamber, and so did Mrs. Gatty.
I said, "Did he mean Mrs. Gatty was confined to her own Chamber or to my Lady's? for that makes all the Difference."
Peter says, "Well, Ma'am, I understood him to mean she kept my Lady's Chamber; but I gave you the very Words he said."
So I gave them, just the same, to my Father.
"Blockhead! Dunderhead!" exclaimed he impatiently. "Well, if she's in her Chamber, she's not in the Churchyard at any Rate—And I shall soon be able to spare you, Patty, to go and see how she really is."
That Night Prudence and I slept together, for the first Time since my Return Home. Before that, I had lain in the little Closet close to my Father's Room, to be within Call. We undressed silently enough, and I noticed again the great Depression she had betrayed ever since my Return; but yet I was as quiet as she.
When the Candle was put out, she crept closer to me; and though she was quiet for a While, I had an Impression she was going to say Something. At length, "Patty," says she,—and I could perceive her Voice was unsteady, "did you ever know what a Burthen it was to have Something on your Mind that you longed, yet feared, to tell?"
"Well," said I, "I can form some Notion of the Pain it must give."
"I have that Pain," says she, and fell a crying.
I said, "Come, Prue, tell me what it is. We didn't use to have any Secrets from one another."
"Nor needed to have," says she in her Tears—"All that's altered now."
"Why should it be?" said I. She made no Answer.
"Come, what is it?" I said.
"Don't you remember saying to me, 'How fine we are!' a Day or two back," says Prue, "when you noted a Ruby Ring on my Finger?"
"A Mock Ruby, you mean! It's a Glass Ring, if ever there was one! I told you, if I wore Jewels at all, they should be real."
"Yes, and I said Nothing, and I dare say you thought I was sulky, but I wasn't. People often make great Mistakes in judging others. Well, that Ring was given me by Tom."
"It wouldn't ruin him then," said I laughing. "Unless indeed, poor Fellow, as is like enough, 'twas palmed upon him for a real Stone. Well, Prue, is this what all the Sighing has been about? You needn't break your Heart, I think, at having accepted it of him."
"Don't laugh, or you'll kill me," says Prudence, "it's no laughing Matter, I can tell you. It don't matter whether the Stone be real or false; but, in fact, it's a Wedding ... no, a Guard-Ring."
"A what?" cried I. "Do say it over again!" But she was crying passionately.
"What's this about Wedding and Guard-Rings, Prue? Do you mean to say you are married?"
"Oh Patty! don't speak so unkindly—I can't bear it."
"I don't mean to be unkind,"—and I kissed her. "But you rack me with Suspense. Do speak out! Are you, can you be married to Tom?"
"Whether or no, I'm engaged to him quite as irrevocably, I assure you, Patty."
"You amaze and distress me beyond Measure," said I.
"I knew you would be very angry with me," said she.
"Angry? why should I be angry? There's no Reason why Tom and you should not marry, if you like it, except his Profession, and his being unable to keep a Wife. Two serious Exceptions, I admit."
"So serious, Patty, that I fear my Father and Mother would never overlook them—Oh! how angry my Father would be! I should never hear the Last of it."
"Well, he would be angry, I dare say, but it would not be the first Time; and you generally bear his Rebukes pretty sturdily. If I were in love with Tom, I think I could stand that."
"Do you indeed, dear Patty? Ah, but you don't know the Worst."
"What is the Worst, then?" cried I impatiently—"Say in a Word." But she could not speak it.
"I can't make Head nor Tail of it," said I—"It seems such an unaccountable Business. I thought you cared for Mr. Fenwick."
"Mr. Fenwick? Oh, Patty! how could you be such a Goose?"
"Well, Prue, I chanced to see him one Day holding you by the Hand at his Window, and talking very earnestly."
"Why, he was talking about Tom, and advising me not to go to the Play!"
"Was that it? Dear me!"
"Yes; and—and—You know, Patty, Tom paid me a good Deal of Attention from the First; and somehow I was won by it, there's Something so sincere and genuine about him. And he's very diverting too, and the Soul of Good-humour—in short, I liked him very much; all the better for his liking me, and telling me so whenever we went out together. Well, when he went Home with the Monkey, I missed him sadly; and as you were very short upon me about that Time, I thought you saw how it was and didn't like it; which made me vex a good Deal. When he came back, I was very glad; and when you were gone, he kept staying on, till it was Time to return to his Ship. The last Walk we took together, which was when he was on the very Brink of Sailing, out it all came! he made me a downright Offer, and said you knew all about it, he had spoken to you at the Old Angel, and you were favourable. Well, this encouraged me, and so I as good as said yes, only I told him I knew Father and Mother would be hurt at it, on such a short Courting, and therefore could not tell them of it till he returned from his next Voyage. Tom was quite willing; for what good would it have done him? only he begged and prayed me to keep constant to him, and not be over-persuaded, while he was away, to have any one else; which of course I promised. So we walked along together as merry as Birds, though on the Point of parting for two Years, without much noting Anything going on around us, till we were forced to pause by a Knot of People on the Pavement, seeing a fine Lady get out of a Hackney-Coach. Tom drew me closer to him; and at the same Moment a Man in a black Coat pops his Face under Tom's Hat, and says, 'Will you like to be married, Sir?' Tom bursts out laughing with Surprise, and says, 'Aye, that I should, my Lad!' and the Man taking him by the Shoulders and giving him a Push, we were under a little Gothic Doorway the next Minute. A gay bridal Party coming out, pressed us against the Wall. 'Dear Tom,' whispered I fearfully, 'what Place is this? It's no Church.' 'Not a bit of it,' replies he, smiling, 'but yet here's a Parson marrying People, many of them of Quality too; and though I don't suppose he can tie a very tight Knot, it will serve to keep you engaged to me till I come back; and then we'll have a merry Wedding, with Mr. Fenwick for our Parson.' And oh, Patty, he took me so by Surprise that I was over-persuaded!"
