"And yet I think we were very comfortable in the country, Frank?" observed Mrs. Curtis, late Mrs. Goldberry, with a simper as fascinating as she could possible render a grimace formed by a large mouth.
"Oh! but you and I can be happy any where, dear," said Frank. "We mustn't remain in Baker Street, though: I shall take a slap-up house in Grosvenor Square, if I can get one there: at all events, somewhere more in the fashionable quarter. Now, I'll tell you what I've been thinking of—and I'm sure that you'll approve of my plan. You see, there's all those dear children of your's—I'm sure I love them as well as if I was their real father, the darlings——"
"You're quite a duck, Frank," exclaimed Mrs. Curtis, tapping him slightly on the face.
"Well—I don't think I'm a bad fellow at all," continued the young gentleman, smoothing down his hair very complacently; "And the plan I'm going to propose to you will prove it. Indeed, it's just what my very particular friend the Marquis of Woolwich did, when he married under similar circumstances—I mean a lady with a young family."
"And what did his lordship do?" inquired Mrs. Curtis.
"He made this arrangement with his wife," explained Frank:—"All his own property was to be left in the funds to accumulate for the benefit of the children—never to be touched—to be locked up like a rat in a trap, as one may say; and the lady's property was to serve for the household and all other expenses. Now, this is just what I propose we shall do. My hundred and forty thousand pounds shall be so locked up; and your income, my love, will do for us to live upon. In fact, I'll make a will to-morrow, settling all my fortune on you in case you survive me, or on the children at your death."
It is astonishing how blank Mrs. Curtis's countenance became as her beloved husband proposed this arrangement: but she managed to hide her confusion from him by means of her handkerchief, while he flattered himself that his generous consideration of her children had drawn tears from her eyes.
"This little arrangement will decidedly be the best," continued Frank; "and I shall have the satisfaction of knowing that your dear children are well provided for. In fact, it was but the day before the happy one which united us, that I met my friend the Duke of Gravesend, and he was advising me how to act in the matter, saying what he had done, as I told you just now. And his Grace's authority is no mean one, I can assure you, my dear. But you don't answer me: what are you thinking about?"
Mrs. Curtis was thinking of a great deal;—a horrible idea had struck her. Was it possible that Frank's vaunted property was all moonshine, and that he was now inventing a means of concealing this fact from her. She had been vain enough to suppose all along that he was enamoured of her person far more than of her alleged five thousand a year; and he had given her so many assurances of the disinterestedness of his affection, that she had congratulated herself on hooking him most completely. She knew that he was the nephew of the rich Sir Christopher Blunt, and had readily believed, therefore, that he himself was rich also; and, experienced though she were in the ways of the world, she had not instituted any inquiries to ascertain the truth of his assertions relative to his property. In a word, she fancied she had caught a green, foolish, but wealthy young fellow; whereas she was now seized with the frightful apprehension that she had laboured under a complete delusion. And this alarm was the more terrible, as the reader may conceive when we inform him that she herself was a mere adventuress—without a farthing of annual income derivable from any certain source—and overwhelmed with debts, her creditors having only been kept quiet for the last few weeks by her representations that she was about to marry a young gentleman of fortune. In a word, she had only taken the house in Baker Street on the hopeful speculation of catching some amorous old gentleman of property: and she had deemed herself particularly fortunate when she received the proposals of an amourous young gentleman who, in the course of conversation, happened to intimate that he possessed five thousand a year.
Mrs. Curtis's confusion and terror,—nay, absolute horror, may therefore be well conceived, when the dreadful suspicion that she herself was as much taken in as her husband, flashed to her mind.