Unfortunate man! what would he have given now to change his position for Norman's single clerkship, or even for Charley's comparative poverty!
Gertrude stayed within all day; but not all day in solitude. About four in the afternoon the Hon. Mrs. Val called, and with her came her daughter Clem, now Madame Jaquêtanàpe, and the two Misses Neverbend. M. Jaquêtanàpe had since his marriage made himself very agreeable to his honourable mother-in-law, so much so that he now occupied the place in her good graces which Undy had formerly filled, and which after Undy's reign had fallen to Alaric's lot. Mrs. Val liked to have about her some confidential gentleman; and as she never thought of placing her confidence in her husband, she was prone to select first one man and then another as her taste and interest dictated. Immediately after their marriage, Victoire and Clem had consented to join housekeeping with their parent. Nothing could be more pleasant than this; their income was unembarrassed, and Mrs. Val, for the first time in her life, was able to set up her carriage. Among the effects arising from this cause, the female Neverbends, who had lately been worshippers of Gertrude, veered round in their idolatry, and paid their vows before Mrs. Val's new yellow panels. In this new carriage now came the four ladies to pay a morning visit to Mrs. Tudor. It was wonderful to see into how small dimensions the Misses Neverbend had contrived to pack, not themselves, but their crinoline.
As has before been hinted, Gertrude did not love Mrs. Val; nor did she love Clem the danseuse; nor did she specially love the Misses Neverbend. They were all of a class essentially different from that in which she had been brought up; and, moreover, Mrs. Val was not content to allow Gertrude into her set without ruling over her, or at any rate patronizing her. Gertrude had borne with them all for her husband's sake; and was contented to do so yet for a while longer, but she thought in her heart that she would be able to draw some consolation from her husband's misfortune if it should be the means of freeing her from Mrs. Val.
'Oh, my dear,' said Mrs. Val, throwing herself down into a sofa as though she were exhausted—'what a dreadful journey it is to you up here! How those poor horses will stand it this weather I don't know, but it nearly kills me; it does indeed.' The Tudors, as has been said, lived in one of the quiet streets of Westbournia, not exactly looking into Hyde Park, but very near to it; Mrs. Val, on the other hand, lived in Ebury Street, Pimlico; her house was much inferior to that of the Tudors; it was small, ill built, and afflicted with all the evils which bad drainage and bad ventilation can produce; but then it was reckoned to be within the precincts of Belgravia, and was only five minutes' walk from Buckingham Palace. Mrs. Val, therefore, had fair ground for twitting her dear friend with living so far away from the limits of fashion. 'You really must come down somewhat nearer to the world; indeed you must, my dear,' said the Hon. Mrs. Val.
'We are thinking of moving; but then we are talking of going to St. John's Wood, or Islington,' said Gertrude, wickedly.
'Islington!' said the Honourable Mrs. Val, nearly fainting.
'Is not Islington and St. Giles' the same place?' asked the innocent Clem, with some malice, however, to counterbalance her innocence.
'O no!' said Lactimel. 'St Giles' is where the poor wretched starving Irish dwell. Their utter misery in the middle of this rich metropolis is a crying disgrace to the Prime Minister.' Poor Badger, how much he has to bear! 'Only think,' continued Lactimel, with a soft pathetic drawl, 'they have none to feed them, none to clothe them, none to do for them!'
'It is a great question,' said Ugolina, 'whether promiscuous charity is a blessing or a curse. It is probably the greatest question of the age. I myself am inclined to think—'
'But, ma,' said Madame Jaquêtanàpe, 'Mrs. Tudor doesn't really mean that she is going to live at St. Giles', does she?'