Mrs. Ludgate did not hear this reflection, because she had gone back to the man who was waiting for directions about the balcony; but Lucy heard it distinctly. “Ma’am, nurse would come in, for she says she saw you at the window; and here she is, coming up the stairs,” cried the footboy.
The nurse came in, with Mrs. Ludgate’s child in her arms.
“Indeed, madam,” said she, “the truth of the matter is, I can’t and won’t be denied my own any longer: and it is not for my own sake I speak up so bold, but for the dear babe that I have here in my arms, that can’t speak for itself, but only smile in your face, and stretch out its arms to you. I, that am only its nurse, can’t bear it; but I have little ones of my own, and can’t see them want. I can’t do for them all: if I’m not paid my lawful due, how can I? And is it not fit I should think of my own flesh and blood first? So I must give up this one. I must!—I must!”—cried the nurse, kissing the child repeatedly, “I must leave her to her mother.”
The poor woman laid the child down on the sofa, then turned her back upon it, and, hiding her face in her apron, sobbed as if her heart would break. Lucy was touched with compassion; the mother stood abashed; shame struggled for a few instants with pride; pride got the victory. “The woman’s out of her wits, I believe,” cried Mrs. Ludgate. “Mr. Green, if you’ll please to call again to-morrow, we’ll talk about the balcony. Lucy, give me the child, and don’t you fall a crying without knowing why or wherefore. Nurse, I’m surprised at you! Did not I tell you I’d send you your money next week?”
“Oh! yes, madam; but you have said so this many a week; and things are come to such a pass now, that husband says I shall not bring back the child without the money.”
“What can I do?” said Mrs. Ludgate.
Lucy immediately took her purse out of her pocket, and whispered, “I will lend you whatever you want to pay the nurse, upon condition that you will give up the scheme of the balcony.”
Mrs. Ludgate submitted to this condition; but she was not half so much obliged to Lucy for doing her this real service as she would have been if her friend had assisted in gratifying her vanity and extravagance. Lucy saw what passed in Mrs. Ludgate’s mind, and nothing but the sense of the obligations she lay under to Belle’s mother could have prevented her from breaking off all connexion with her.
But Mrs. Ludgate was now much inclined to court Lucy’s acquaintance, as her approaching marriage with Mr. Allen, who was in good circumstances, made her appear quite a different person. Mrs. Allen would be able, and she hoped willing, to assist her from time to time with money. With this view, Belle showed Lucy a degree of attention and civility which she had disdained to bestow upon her friend whilst she was in an inferior situation. It was in vain, however, that this would-be fine lady endeavoured to draw the prudent Lucy out of her own sphere of life: though Lucy was extremely pretty, she had no desire to be admired; she was perfectly satisfied and happy at home, and she and her husband lived according to old Ludgate’s excellent maxim, “Out of debt out of danger.”
We shall not weary our readers with the history of all the petty difficulties into which Mr. and Mrs. Ludgate’s foolish extravagance led them. The life of the shabby genteel is most miserable. Servants’ wages unpaid, duns continually besieging the door, perpetual excuses, falsehoods to be invented, melancholy at home, and forced gaiety abroad! Who would live such a life? Yet all this Mr. and Mrs. Ludgate endured, for the sake of outshining Mr. and Mrs. Pimlico.