“If you think I can be of any use,” he said, trying to look as serious as possible; and thus, before he knew, the double bargain was made.
It would be impossible to describe in words the whimsical unreality of the situation in which Edgar thus found himself when he got into Mr. Tottenham’s phaeton to be driven back to town, in order to be made acquainted with the other “Tottenham’s.” Only a few days had passed since the wintry evening when he arrived a stranger at the hospitable but unknown house. He was a stranger still according to all rules, but yet his life had suddenly become entangled with the lives which a week ago he had never heard of. He was no visitor, but a member of the family, with distinct duties in it; involved even in its eccentricities, its peculiarities, its quaint benevolences. Edgar felt his head swim as they drove from the door which he had entered for the first time so very short a while ago. Was he in a dream? or had he gone astray out of the ordinary workday world into some modern version of the Arabian Nights?
“You remember what I told you, Earnshaw, about the shop?” said his companion. “It is for the shop that I bespeak your interest now. I told you that my wife had no false pride on the subject, and how she cured me of my absurdity. I draw a great deal of money out of it, and I employ a great number of people. Of course, I have a great responsibility towards these people. If they were labourers on an estate, or miners in a coal-pit, everybody would acknowledge this responsibility; but being only shopmen and shopwomen, or, poor souls, as they prefer to have it, assistants in a house of business, the difficulty is much increased. Do I have your attention, Earnshaw?”
“I am listening,” said Edgar; “but you must excuse me if my attention seems to wander a little. Consider how short an acquaintance ours is, and that I am somewhat giddy with the strange turn my life has taken. Pure selfishness, of course; but one does rank more highly than is fit in one’s own thoughts.”
“To be sure, it is all novel and strange,” said Mr. Tottenham, in a soothing and consolatory tone. “Never mind; you will soon get used to our ways. For my own part, I think a spinning mill is nothing to my shop. Several hundreds of decently dressed human creatures, some of the young women looking wonderfully like ladies, I can tell you, is a very bewildering sort of kingdom to deal with. The Queen rules in a vague sort of way compared to me. She has nothing to do with our private morals or manners; so long as we don’t rob or steal, she leaves us to our own guidance. But, in my dominions, there is all the minuteness of despotism. My subjects live in my house, eat my bread, and have to be regulated by my pleasure. I look after them in everything, their religious sentiments, their prudential arrangements, their amusements. You don’t listen to me, Earnshaw.”
“Oh, yes, I do. But if Phil’s lessons and Lady Mary’s lectures come in to disturb my attention, you won’t mind just at first? This is the same road we drove down on Saturday. There is the same woman standing at the same door.”
“And here are the same horses, and the same man with the same sentiments driving you.”
“Thanks; you are very kind,” said Edgar, gratefully; “but my head goes round notwithstanding. I suppose so many ups and downs put one off one’s balance. I promise you to wake up when we come to the field of battle.”
“You mean the shop,” said Mr. Tottenham; “don’t be afraid of naming it. I am rather excited, to tell the truth, about the effect it may have upon you. I am like a showman, with something quite original and out of the common to show.”