LETTER VII. MRS. DODD TO MISTRESS MARY GALLAGHER, DODSBOROUGH.
Dear Molly,—I scarcely have courage to take up my pen, and, maybe, if it was n't that I 'm driven to the necessity of writing, I could n't bring myself to the effort. You have already heard all about poor dear James's duel. It was in the "Post" and "Galignani," and got copied into the French papers; and, indeed, I must say that so far as notoriety goes, it was all very gratifying to our feelings, though the poor boy has had to pay dearly for the honor. His sufferings were very great, and for ten days he did n't know one of us; even to this time he constantly calls me his aunt! He's now out of danger at last, and able to sit up for a few hours every day, and take a little sustenance, and hear the papers read, and see the names of the people that have called to ask after him; and a proud list it is,—dukes, counts, and barons without end!
This, of course, is all very pleasing, and no one is more ready to confess it than myself; but life is nothing but trials, Molly; you 're up to-day, and you 're down tomorrow; and maybe 'tis when you think the road is smoothest and best, and that your load is lightest, 't is just at that very moment you see yourself harnessed between the "shafts of adversity." We never think of these things when all goes well with us; but what a shock we feel when the hand of fate turns the tables on us, with, maybe, the scarlatina or the sheep-rot, the smut in the wheat, or a stain on your reputation! When I wrote last, I mentioned to you the high station we were in, the elegant acquaintances we made, and the fine prospect before us; but I 'm not sure you got my letter, for the gentleman that took charge of it thought of going home by Norway, so that perhaps it has not reached you. It's little matter; maybe 't is all the better, indeed, if it never does come to hand! The last three weeks has been nothing but troubles; and as for expense, Molly, the money goes in a way I never witnessed before, though, if you knew all the shifts I 'm put to, you 'd pity me, and the sacrifices I make to keep our heads above water would drown you in tears.
I don't know where to begin with our misfortunes, though I believe the first of them was Wednesday week last. You must know, Molly, that we were invited by the King, who sent his own aide-de-camp, in full fig, with crosses and orders all over him, to ask us to a breakfast, or, as they call it, a déjeûner, in honor of the opening of a new railroad at Mons. It was, as you may believe, a very great honor to pay us, nothing being invited but the very first families,—the embassies and the ministers; and we certainly felt it well became us not to disgrace either the country we came from or the proud distinction of his Majesty; and so Mary and I had two new dresses made just the same, like sisters, very simple, but elegant, Molly,—a light stuff that cost only two-and-five a yard, thirty-two yards of which would make the two, leaving me a breadth more in the skirt than Mary Anne,—the whole not coming to quite four pounds, without the making. That was our calculation, Molly, and we put it down on paper; for K. I. insists on our paying for everything when it comes home, as he is always saying, "We never know how suddenly we may have to leave this place yet."
Low as the price was, it took a day and a half before he gave in. He stormed and swore about all the expenses of the family,—that there was no end of our extravagant habits, and what with hairdressers, dancing-masters, and doctors, it cost five-and-twenty pounds in a week.
"And if it did, K. I.," said I,—"if it did, is four pounds too much to spend on the dress of your wife and daughter, when they 're invited to Court? If you can squander in handfuls on your pleasures, can you spare nothing for the wants of your family?"
I reminded him who he was and I was. I let him know what was the stock I came from, and what we were used to, Molly; and, indeed, I believe he 'd rather than double the money not have provoked the discussion.
The end of it was, we carried the day; and early on Wednesday morning the two dresses came home; Mademoiselle Adèle herself coming with them to try them on. I have n't words to tell you how mine fitted; if it was made on me, it could n't be better. I need n't say more of the general effect than that Betty—and you know she is no flatterer—called me nothing but "miss" till I took it off. Conscious of how it became me, I too readily listened to her suggestion to "go and show it to the master," and accordingly walked into the room where he was seated reading the newspaper.
