“Pretty well, I expect, although she does not quite choose to acknowledge it. I have told her that she must dispense with a carriage in future; and so she shall, till I think she deserves it. She knows that she must either have my company in the house, or none at all. She knows that the Peters of Petercumb Hall have cut her, for they did not answer a note of hers, sent by the gardener; and Mr Smith has written a very violent answer to another of her notes, wondering at her attempting to push herself into the company of the aristocracy. But what has brought her to her senses more than all is the affair of Monsieur Tagliabue. The magistrate, at my request, gave me the note of Lord Scrope, and I have taken good care that she could read the police report as well; but the fact is, she is so much mortified that I say nothing to her. She has been following the advice of these French swindlers, who have led her wrong, to be able to cheat her of her money. I expect she will ask me to sell this place, and go elsewhere; but at present we hardly exchange a word during the whole day.”
“I feel very sorry for her, sir; for I really believe her to be a very good kind-hearted person.”
“That’s like you, Jacob—and so she is. At present she is in a state to be pitied. She would throw a share of the blame upon other people, and cannot—she feels it is all herself. All her bubbles of grandeur have burst, and she finds herself not half so respectable as she was before her vanity induced her to cut her former acquaintance, and try to get into the society of those who laughed at her, and at the same time were not half so creditable. But it’s that cursed money which has proved her unhappiness—and, I may add, mine.”
“Well, sir, I see no chance of its ever adding to my misfortunes, at all events.”
“Perhaps not, Jacob, even if you ever should get any; but, at all events, you may take a little to-morrow, if you please. I cannot ask you to dine here; it would not be pleasant to you, and show a want of feeling to my wife; but I should like you to come up with the wherry to-morrow, and we’ll take a cruise.”
“Very well, I shall be at your orders—at what time?”
“Say ten o’clock if the weather is fine; if not the next day.”
“Then, sir, I’ll now wish you good-bye, as I must go and see the Dominie.”
Mr Turnbull took my hand, and we parted. I was soon at Brentford, and was continuing my course through the long, main street, when I met Mr and Mrs Tomkins, the former head clerk who had charge of the Brentford Wharf. “I was intending to call upon you, sir, after I had paid a visit to my old master.”
“Very well, Jacob; and recollect we dine at half-past three—fillet of veal and bacon—don’t be late for dinner.”