This cut me to the heart; for I had strange, melancholy forebodings of dissensions in store for us, of which I feared the over-anxiety of my dear mamma would be the cause.
After three weeks of continued happiness, we left the shores of honest Rottendean, and returned to hollow-hearted London, and I felt satisfied that my husband would no longer be displeased with dear mamma’s fond care, when he found what a treasure of a maid she had procured for us.
Moral reflection after writing the above.—“Laws were made,” my Edward says, “to protect people’s property;” but my opinion is, that they were made for nothing of the kind; or, if they were, that those who made them knew nothing at all about their business; or else I’m sure there wouldn’t be half the picking and stealing that there is going on every day in the lodging-houses at the sea-side. For the way in which we were robbed right and left, where we lived at Brighton (or at Rottendean, which is the same thing), and the hole that that story-telling old landlady of ours used to make in our cold meat, was enough to turn a right-minded woman like myself crazy. I’m sure we must have been keeping the whole family, we must; for they not only couldn’t keep their fingers off our meat, but they went dipping them into our tea-caddy, and candle-box, and sugar-basin, so that one need have had a purse a mile long to have paid one’s way with any credit to oneself. I declare it was enough to drive any well-disposed body away from the place; and I can only say, that from all I’ve seen and suffered myself there, I can well understand King George the Fourth (who was a perfect gentleman) turning his nose up at the people, and vowing that he’d have nothing more to do with the scurvy set.
CHAPTER III.
OF THE TERRIBLE GOINGS-ON OF MY FIRST MAID, AND WHOM WE ALL EXPECTED WOULD HAVE TURNED OUT SUCH A “TREASURE.”
“In this bosom what anguish, what hope, and what fear
I endure for my beautiful maid.
In vain I seek pleasure to lighten my grief,
Or quit the gay throng for the shade;
Nor retirement nor solitude yields me relief,
When I think of my beautiful maid.”
Braham’s “Beautiful Maid.”
We quitted Brighton by the stage, and had a delightful drive up as far as Tooting, where we left the coach, and stopped to rest ourselves a short time, as dear Edward was fearful lest I should over-fatigue myself by going through the entire journey at once; after which we ordered a post-chaise, and drove up to our house in great style.
As the equipage rattled up Alb—ny St—t, I could not help having a pleasing vision of the prolonged happiness which I now fancied was within arm’s reach of me, (if the courteous reader will allow me the expression.) When we got to our pretty little cottage orné, and I saw the establishment of which I was to be the future mistress, I felt so honestly proud, so truly gratified, so charmed with the new duties that it had pleased Providence to impose upon me—even though I was rather knocked up with our journey—that I now began to feel myself quite another thing.
It was extremely curious to see the heads of our new neighbours peeping over the blinds of their parlour windows, as our post-chaise dashed up, with lighted lamps, to our door, while the boy thundered at the knocker. I believe this trifling circumstance tickled my girlish vanity at the moment; but I’m sure my courteous readers will think the feeling very excusable, when they recollect I was as yet but a young bride.
I was greatly alarmed, and not a little surprised, to find the door answered by my dear mamma; for I was convinced that she knew her station in life too well ever to dream of doing such a thing, unless compelled by some calamity. Edward seemed to be as much annoyed as myself, and did not scruple to speak out about it; and, indeed, his feelings made him forget himself in the presence of the post-boy; for he knit his fine brow, and wondered why my dear mamma could not let the servant attend to the door. But, alas! how little did we then dream of the cause.