“Sweet Kitty! My sweet Kitty Fairthorn; I adore her for her own sake, without a crooked sixpence. But it sounds too good to be true, my boy. Take a suck, and tell us all about it.”
“The beauty of it is that she doesn’t know a word of it;” Bulwrag began to unfold his roll of fiction very recklessly, which gave it the crackle and flash of truth. “And if we can keep her in the dark, for another ten days or fortnight, why, a bit of pluck and gumption, and there the job is done! You know that my excellent mother considers it one of her strictest duties to open all the letters that come to the house for the younger and feminine branches. She keeps the key of the letter-box, and no one else is allowed to go near it. When I first came back, she began to open mine; but I stopped that, quick sticks, I can tell you.”
“She is a strong party, and no mistake. I hope she won’t want to come and cock over my crib, when I am spliced to the heavenly Kitty. I should get the wrong side of the sixty thousand pounds.”
“Well, this morning there came a little billet for our Kitty, sealed, and got up, and looking no end confidential. The Ma wasn’t going to stand that, of course; it set up her hackles that any one should try it. She took it to her own room, and found it so important that it was not right to let the owner know a word about it, at least until the subject had been well considered. But she called me into council, and my advice was to keep it dark, and make the most of it. And here is all there is of it.
“It seems that the old scientific bloke had a sister in the wilds of Northumberland, to whom he gave fearful offence, years ago, by blowing her cat up, or something of that sort, and she vowed he should never have sixpence of hers. But being better off for cash than kindred, which is not the usual state of things, she has left all her belongings to his daughter, straight away, in the lump, with nothing to pay but duty. Her father will be her trustee by law, I suppose, until she is of age or marries. But if she marries, without having it settled, which her father of course would insist upon, why, there you are—the happy man is master of the money, though she may go in for a post-nuptial, or what ever they call it, kind of settlement.”
“Downy, my boy, it sounds too good to be true,” said Sir Cumberleigh, looking at him doubtfully, but the young man’s great bulky face and round forehead were as tranquil as an orange; “who are the lawyers? It came, of course, from the old lady’s men of law. Was it a London or a country firm? I don’t want to be too inquisitive, you know. But in a manner of this sort—”
“The less you know the better, so long as you are convinced. You were eager to marry the girl without a penny; and what motive can I have for deceiving you? In fact, I think I have been a fool to tell you. We could let her get the money, and what chance would you have then? Plenty of young swells, with rhino of their own, would be after such a pretty girl with sixty thousand pounds. And I will tell you two things, since you seem to doubt me. In the first place, I shall insist upon ten thou. advanced upon my note of hand at five per cent. And again for your comfort, my mother since she heard of it won’t hear another word of you, beloved Pots, unless I can bring her round to it. She would naturally prefer a young soft fellow, with a fine place of his own, where she can go and govern, when she wants a little change, as she governs everywhere. So that will be all you get, old chap, by doubting yours truly. Good-night, my boy. I am sorry that I ever told you.”
“Don’t be so hot, my friend. I never doubted you. All that I doubted was my own good luck. And upon my soul, Downy, if you had had such luck as I have, you would never place any more faith in it. Here, my dear fellow, have a Don Pintolado; there’s not such another weed to be got in London. And here’s a rare drop of old brandy, such as perhaps you never tasted. It’s as old as the hills, and as soft as oil. You must never put a drop of water with it. It stands me in two hundred and forty shillings a dozen, and I have never let any one see it but myself. What do you think of that now? Roll it on your tongue. The best liquor you ever nosed is not a patch upon it. You are a good judge, give me your opinion.”
“I never tasted anything like it, Pots. Where the devil do you get it from?”