CHAPTER III.
If ever a young kipple in the middlin classes began life with a chanceof happiness, it was Mr. and Mrs. Frederic Altamont. There house atCannon Row, Islington, was as comfortable as house could be. Carpitedfrom top to to; pore's rates small; furnitur elygant; and threedeomestix: of which I, in course, was one. My life wasn't so easy asin Mr. A.'s bachelor days; but, what then? The three W's is my maxum:plenty of work, plenty of wittles, and plenty of wages. Altamont kep hisgig no longer, but went to the city in an omlibuster.
One would have thought, I say, that Mrs. A., with such an effeckshnuthusband, might have been as happy as her blessid majisty. Nothing of thesort. For the fust six months it was all very well; but then she grewgloomier and gloomier, though A. did everythink in life to please her.
Old Shum used to come reglarly four times a wick to Cannon Row, wherehe lunched, and dined, and teed, and supd. The pore little man was athought too fond of wine and spirits; and many and many's the night thatI've had to support him home. And you may be sure that Miss Betsy didnot now desert her sister: she was at our place mornink, noon, andnight; not much to my mayster's liking, though he was too good-naturedto wex his wife in trifles.
But Betsy never had forgotten the recollection of old days, and hatedAltamont like the foul feind. She put all kind of bad things intothe head of poor innocent missis; who, from being all gayety andcheerfulness, grew to be quite melumcolly and pale, and retchid, just asif she had been the most misrable woman in the world.
In three months more, a baby comes, in course, and with it old Mrs.Shum, who stuck to Mrs.' side as close as a wampire, and made herretchider and retchider. She used to bust into tears when Altamontcame home: she used to sigh and wheep over the pore child, and say, "Mychild, my child, your father is false to me;" or, "your father deceivesme;" or "what will you do when your pore mother is no more?" or suchlike sentimental stuff.
It all came from Mother Shum, and her old trix, as I soon found out.The fact is, when there is a mistry of this kind in the house, its aservant's DUTY to listen; and listen I did, one day when Mrs. was cryinas usual, and fat Mrs. Shum a sittin consolin her, as she called it:though, heaven knows, she only grew wuss and wuss for the consolation.
Well, I listened; Mrs. Shum was a-rockin the baby, and missis cryin asyousual.
"Pore dear innocint," says Mrs. S., heavin a great sigh, "you're thechild of a unknown father and a misrable mother."
"Don't speak ill of Frederic, mamma," says missis; "he is all kindnessto me."
"All kindness, indeed! yes, he gives you a fine house, and a fine gownd,and a ride in a fly whenever you please; but WHERE DOES ALL HISMONEY COME FROM? Who is he--what is he? Who knows that he mayn't be amurderer, or a housebreaker, or a utterer of forged notes? How can hemake his money honestly, when he won't say where he gets it? Why does heleave you eight hours every blessid day, and won't say where he goes to?Oh, Mary, Mary, you are the most injured of women!"
And with this Mrs. Shum began sobbin; and Miss Betsy began yowling likea cat in a gitter; and pore missis cried, too--tears is so remarkableinfeckshus.
"Perhaps, mamma," wimpered out she, "Frederic is a shop-boy, and don'tlike me to know that he is not a gentleman."
"A shopboy," says Betsy, "he a shopboy! O no, no, no! more likely awretched willain of a murderer, stabbin and robing all day, and feedinyou with the fruits of his ill-gotten games!"
More crying and screechin here took place, in which the baby joined; andmade a very pretty consort, I can tell you.
"He can't be a robber," cries missis; "he's too good, too kind, forthat: besides, murdering is done at night, and Frederic is always homeat eight."
"But he can be a forger," says Betsy, "a wicked, wicked FORGER. Why doeshe go away every day? to forge notes, to be sure. Why does he go tothe city? to be near banks and places, and so do it more at hisconvenience."
"But he brings home a sum of money every day--about thirtyshillings--sometimes fifty: and then he smiles, and says it's a goodday's work. This is not like a forger," said pore Mrs. A.
"I have it--I have it!" screams out Mrs. S. "The villain--the sneaking,double-faced Jonas! he's married to somebody else he is, and that's whyhe leaves you, the base biggymist!"
At this, Mrs. Altamont, struck all of a heap, fainted clean away. Adreadful business it was--hystarrix; then hystarrix, in course, fromMrs. Shum; bells ringin, child squalin, suvvants tearin up and downstairs with hot water! If ever there is a noosance in the world, it's ahouse where faintain is always goin on. I wouldn't live in one,--no, notto be groom of the chambers, and git two hundred a year.
It was eight o'clock in the evenin when this row took place; and sucha row it was, that nobody but me heard master's knock. He came in, andheard the hooping, and screeching, and roaring. He seemed very muchfrightened at first, and said, "What is it?"
"Mrs. Shum's here," says I, "and Mrs. in astarrix."
Altamont looked as black as thunder, and growled out a word which Idon't like to name,--let it suffice that it begins with a D and endswith a NATION; and he tore up stairs like mad.
He bust open the bedroom door; missis lay quite pale and stony on thesofy; the babby was screechin from the craddle; Miss Betsy was sprawlinover missis; and Mrs. Shum half on the bed and half on the ground: allhowlin and squeelin, like so many dogs at the moond.
When A. came in, the mother and daughter stopped all of a sudding. Therehad been one or two tiffs before between them, and they feared him as ifhe had been a hogre.
"What's this infernal screeching and crying about?" says he. "Oh, Mr.Altamont," cries the old woman, "you know too well; it's about you thatthis darling child is misrabble!"
"And why about me, pray, madam?"
"Why, sir, dare you ask why? Because you deceive her, sir; because youare a false, cowardly traitor, sir; because YOU HAVE A WIFE ELSEWHERE,SIR!" And the old lady and Miss Betsy began to roar again as loud asever.
Altamont pawsed for a minnit, and then flung the door wide open; nex heseized Miss Betsy as if his hand were a vice, and he world her out ofthe room; then up he goes to Mrs. S. "Get up," says he, thundering loud,"you lazy, trolloping, mischsef-making, lying old fool! Get up, and getout of this house. You have been the cuss and bain of my happynisssince you entered it. With your d----d lies, and novvle rending, andhisterrix, you have perwerted Mary, and made her almost as mad asyourself."
"My child! my child!" shriex out Mrs. Shum, and clings round missis. ButAltamont ran between them, and griping the old lady by her arm, draggedher to the door. "Follow your daughter, ma'm," says he, and down shewent. "CHAWLS, SEE THOSE LADIES TO THE DOOR," he hollows out, "and neverlet them pass it again." We walked down together, and off they went: andmaster locked and double-locked the bedroom door after him, intendin,of course, to have a tator-tator (as they say) with his wife. You may besure that I followed up stairs again pretty quick, to hear the result oftheir confidence.
As they say at St. Stevenses, it was rayther a stormy debate. "Mary,"says master, "you're no longer the merry greatful gal I knew and lovedat Pentonwill: there's some secret a pressin on you--there's nosmilin welcom for me now, as there used formly to be! Your mother andsister-in-law have perwerted you, Mary: and that's why I've drove themfrom this house, which they shall not re-enter in my life."
"O, Frederic! it's YOU is the cause, and not I. Why do you have anymistry from me? Where do you spend your days? Why did you leave me,even on the day of your marridge, for eight hours, and continue to do soevery day?"
"Because," says he, "I makes my livelihood by it. I leave you, and don'ttell you HOW I make it: for it would make you none the happier to know."
It was in this way the convysation ren on--more tears and questions onmy missises part, more sturmness and silence on my master's: it endedfor the first time since their marridge, in a reglar quarrel. Werydifrent, I can tell you, from all the hammerous billing and kewing whichhad proceeded their nupshuls.
Master went out, slamming the door in a fu
ry; as well he might. Says he,"If I can't have a comforable life, I can have a jolly one;" and sohe went off to the hed tavern, and came home that evening beeslyintawsicated. When high words begin in a family drink generally followson the genlman's side; and then, fearwell to all conjubial happyniss!These two pipple, so fond and loving, were now sirly, silent, and fullof il wil. Master went out earlier, and came home later; missis criedmore, and looked even paler than before.
Well, things went on in this uncomfortable way, master still in themopes, missis tempted by the deamons of jellosy and curosity; until asinglar axident brought to light all the goings on of Mr. Altamont.
It was the tenth of January; I recklect the day, for old Shum gev mehalf a crownd (the fust and last of his money I ever see, by the way):he was dining along with master, and they were making merry together.
Master said, as he was mixing his fifth tumler of punch and little Shumhis twelfth or so--master said, "I see you twice in the City to-day, Mr.Shum."
"Well, that's curous!" says Shum. "I WAS in the City. To-day's the daywhen the divvydins (God bless 'em) is paid; and me and Mrs. S. went forour half-year's inkem. But we only got out of the coach, crossed thestreet to the Bank, took our money, and got in agen. How could you seeme twice?"
Altamont stuttered and stammered and hemd, and hawd. "O!" says he, "Iwas passing--passing as you went in and out." And he instantly turnedthe conversation, and began talking about pollytix, or the weather, orsome such stuff.
"Yes, my dear," said my missis, "but how could you see papa TWICE?"Master didn't answer, but talked pollytix more than ever. Still shewould continy on. "Where was you, my dear, when you saw pa? What wereyou doing, my love, to see pa twice?" and so forth. Master lookedangrier and angrier, and his wife only pressed him wuss and wuss.
This was, as I said, little Shum's twelfth tumler; and I knew prittywell that he could git very little further; for, as reglar as thethirteenth came, Shum was drunk. The thirteenth did come, and itsconsquinzes. I was obliged to leed him home to John Street, where I lefthim in the hangry arms of Mrs. Shum.
"How the d--," sayd he all the way, "how the d-dd--thededdy--deddy--devil--could he have seen me TWICE?"
The Memoirs of Mr. Charles J. Yellowplush Page 3
