CHAPTER LXXIII. Mr. and Mrs. Sam Huxter
"Dear Blanche," Arthur wrote, "you are always reading and dreamingpretty dramas, and exciting romances in real life: are you now preparedto enact a part of one? And not the pleasantest part, dear Blanche, thatin which the heroine takes possession of her father's palace and wealth,and introducing her husband to the loyal retainers and faithful vassals,greets her happy bridegroom with 'All of this is mine and thine,'--butthe other character, that of the luckless lady, who suddenly discoversthat she is not the Prince's wife, but Claude Melnotte's the beggar's:that of Alnaschar's wife, who comes in just as her husband haskicked over the tray of porcelain which was to be the making of hisfortune--But stay; Alnaschar, who kicked down the china, was not amarried man; he had cast his eye on the Vizier's daughter, and his hopesof her went to the ground with the shattered bowls and tea-cups.
"Will you be the Vizier's daughter, and refuse and laugh to scornAlnaschar, or will you be the Lady of Lyons, and love the pennilessClaude Melnotte? I will act that part if you like. I will love you mybest in return. I will do my all to make your humble life happy: forhumble it will be: at least the odds are against any other conclusion;we shall live and die in a poor prosy humdrum way. There will be nostars and epaulettes for the hero of our story. I shall write one or twomore stories, which will presently be forgotten. I shall be called tothe Bar, and try to get on in my profession: perhaps some day, if I amvery lucky, and work very hard (which is absurd), I may get a colonialappointment, and you may be an Indian Judge's lady. Meanwhile. I shallbuy back the Pall Mall Gazette; the publishers are tired of it since thedeath of poor Shandon, and will sell it for a small sum. Warringtonwill be my right hand, and write it up to a respectable sale. I willintroduce you to Mr. Finucane the sub-editor, and I know who in theend will be Mrs. Finucane,--a very nice gentle creature, who has livedsweetly through a sad life and we will jog on, I say, and look outfor better times, and earn our living decently. You shall have theopera-boxes, and superintend the fashionable intelligence, andbreak your little heart in the poet's corner. Shall we live over theoffices?--there are four very good rooms, a kitchen, and a garret forLaura, in Catherine Street in the Strand; or would you like a housein the Waterloo Road?--it would be very pleasant, only there is thathalfpenny toll at the Bridge. The boys may go to King's College, mayn'tthey? Does all this read to you like a joke?
"Ah, dear Blanche, it is no joke, and I am sober and telling the truth.Our fine day-dreams are gone. Our carriage has whirled out of sight likeCinderella's: our house in Belgravia has been whisked away into the airby a malevolent Genius, and I am no more a member of Parliament than Iam a Bishop on his bench in the House of Lords, or a Duke with a garterat his knee. You know pretty well what my property is, and your ownlittle fortune: we may have enough with those two to live in decentcomfort; to take a cab sometimes when we go out to see our friends, andnot to deny ourselves an omnibus when we are tired. But that is all: isthat enough for you, my little dainty lady? I doubt sometimes whetheryou can bear the life which I offer you--at least, it is fair that youshould know what it will be. If you say, 'Yes, Arthur, I will followyour fate whatever it may be, and be a loyal and loving wife to aid andcheer you'--come to me, dear Blanche, and may God help me so that I maydo my duty to you. If not, and you look to a higher station, I must notbar Blanche's fortune--I will stand in the crowd, and see your ladyshipgo to Court when you are presented, and you shall give me a smile fromyour chariot window. I saw Lady Mirabel going to the drawing-room lastseason: the happy husband at her side glittered with stars and cordons.All the flowers in the garden bloomed in the coachman's bosom. Willyou have these and the chariot, or walk on foot and mend your husband'sstockings?
"I cannot tell you now--afterwards I might, should the day come when wemay have no secrets from one another--what has happened within the lastfew hours which has changed all my prospects in life: but so it is, thatI have learned something which forces me to give up the plans whichI had formed, and many vain and ambitious hopes in which I had beenindulging. I have written and despatched a letter to Sir FrancisClavering, saying that I cannot accept his seat in Parliament untilafter my marriage; in like manner I cannot and will not accept anylarger fortune with you than that which has always belonged to you sinceyour grandfather's death, and the birth of your half-brother. Yourgood mother is not in the least aware--I hope she never may be--of thereasons which force me to this very strange decision. They arise from apainful circumstance, which is attributable to none of our faults; but,having once befallen, they are as fatal and irreparable as that shockwhich overset honest Alnaschar's porcelain, and shattered all his hopesbeyond the power of mending. I write gaily enough, for there is no usein bewailing such a hopeless mischance. We have not drawn the greatprize in the lottery, dear Blanche: but I shall be contented enoughwithout it, if you can be so; and I repeat, with all my heart, that Iwill do my best to make you happy.
"And now, what news shall I give you? My uncle is very unwell, and takesmy refusal of the seat in Parliament in sad dudgeon: the scheme washis, poor old gentleman, and he naturally bemoans its failure. ButWarrington, Laura, and I had a council of war: they know this awfulsecret, and back me in my decision. You must love George as you lovewhat is generous and upright and noble; and as for Laura--she must beour Sister, Blanche, our Saint, our good Angel. With two such friendsat home, what need we care for the world without; or who is memberfor Clavering, or who is asked or not asked to the great balls of theseason?"
To this frank communication came back the letter from Blanche to Laura,and one to Pen himself, which perhaps his own letter justified. "You arespoiled by the world," Blanche wrote; "you do not love your poor Blancheas she would be loved, or you would not offer thus lightly to take heror to leave her, no, Arthur, you love me not--a man of the world, youhave given me your plighted troth, and are ready to redeem it; but thatentire affection, that love whole and abiding, where--where is thatvision of my youth? I am but a pastime of your life, and I would be itsall;--but a fleeting thought, and I would be your whole soul. I wouldhave our two hearts one; but ah, my Arthur, how lonely yours is! howlittle you give me of it! You speak of our parting with a smile onyour lip; of our meeting, and you care not to hasten it! Is life but adisillusion, then, and are the flowers of our garden faded away? I havewept--I have prayed--I have passed sleepless hours--I have shed bitter,bitter tears over your letter! To you I bring the gushing poesy of mybeing--the yearnings of the soul that longs to be loved--that pinesfor love, love, love, beyond all!--that flings itself at your feet,and cries, Love me, Arthur! Your heart beats no quicker at thekneeling appeal of my love!--your proud eye is dimmed by no tear ofsympathy!--you accept my soul's treasure as though 'twere dross! not thepearls from the unfathomable deeps of affection! not the diamonds fromthe caverns of the heart. You treat me like a slave, and bid me bow tomy master! Is this the guerdon of a free maiden--is this the price ofa life's passion? Ah me! when was it otherwise? when did love meet withaught but disappointment? Could I hope (fond fool!) to be the exceptionto the lot of my race; and lay my fevered brow on a heart thatcomprehended my own? Foolish girl that I was! One by one, all theflowers of my young life have faded away; and this, the last, thesweetest, the dearest, the fondly, the madly loved, the wildlycherished--where is it? But no more of this. Heed not my bleedingheart.--Bless you, bless you always, Arthur!
"I will write more when I am more collected. My racking brain rendersthought almost impossible. I long to see Laura! She will come to usdirectly we return from the country, will she not? And you, cold one!
"B."
The words of this letter were perfectly clear, and written in Blanche'sneatest hand upon her scented paper; and yet the meaning of thecomposition not a little puzzled Pen. Did Blanche mean to accept or torefuse his polite offer? Her phrases either meant that Pen did not loveher, and she declined him, or that she took him, and sacrificed herselfto him, cold as he was. He laughed sardonically over the letter, andover the transaction w
hich occasioned it. He laughed to think howFortune had jilted him, and how he deserved his slippery fortune. Heturned over and over the musky gilt-edged riddle. It amused his humour:he enjoyed it as if it had been a funny story.
He was thus seated, twiddling the queer manuscript in his hand,joking grimly to himself, when his servant came in with a card from agentleman, who wished to speak to him very particularly. And if Penhad gone out into the passage, he would have seen, sucking hisstick, rolling his eyes, and showing great marks of anxiety, his oldacquaintance, Mr. Samuel Huxter.
"Mr. Huxter on particular business! Pray, beg Mr. Huxter to come in,"said Pen, amused rather; and not the less so when poor Sam appearedbefore him.
"Pray take a chair, Mr. Huxter," said Pen, in his most superb manner."In what way can I be of service to you?"
"I had rather not speak before the flunk--before the man, Mr.Pendennis:" on which Mr. Arthur's attendant quitted the room.
"I'm in a fix," said Mr. Huxter, gloomily.
"Indeed."
"She sent me to you," continued the young surgeon.
"What, Fanny? Is she well? I was coming to see her, but I have had agreat deal of business since my return to London."
"I heard of you through my governor and Jack Hobnell," broke in Huxter."I wish you joy, Mr. Pendennis, both of the borough and the lady, sir.Fanny wishes you joy, too," he added, with something of a blush.
"There's many a slip between the cup and the lip! Who knows what mayhappen, Mr. Huxter, or who will sit in Parliament for Clavering nextsession?"
"You can do anything with my governor," continued Mr. Huxter. "You gothim Clavering Park. The old boy was very much pleased, sir, at yourcalling him in. Hobnell wrote me so. Do you think you could speak to thegovernor for me, Mr. Pendennis?"
"And tell him what?"
"I've gone and done it, sir," said Huxter, with a particular look.
"You--you don't mean to say you have--you have done any wrong to thatdear little creature, sir?" said Pen, starting up in a great fury.
"I hope not," said Huxter, with a hangdog look: "but I've married her.And I know there will be an awful shindy at home. It was agreed that Ishould be taken into partnership when I had passed the College, and itwas to have been Huxter and Son. But I would have it, confound it. It'sall over now, and the old boy's wrote me that he's coming up to town fordrugs: he will be here to-morrow, and then it must all come out."
"And when did this event happen?" asked Pen, not over well pleased, mostlikely, that a person who had once attracted some portion of his royalgood graces should have transferred her allegiance, and consoled herselffor his loss.
"Last Thursday was five weeks--it was two days after Miss Amory came toShepherd's Inn," Huxter answered.
Pen remembered that Blanche had written and mentioned her visit. "I wascalled in," Huxter said. "I was in the Inn looking after old Cos's leg;and about something else too, very likely: and I met Strong, who toldme there was a woman taken ill in Chambers, and went up to give her myprofessional services. It was the old lady who attends Miss Amory--herhousekeeper, or some such thing. She was taken with strong hysterics:I found her kicking and screaming like a good one--in Strong's chamber,along with him and Colonel Altamont, and Miss Amory crying and as paleas a sheet; and Altamont fuming about--a regular kick-up. They were twohours in the Chambers; and the old woman went whooping off in a cab. Shewas much worse than the young one. I called in Grosvenor Place next dayto see if I could be of any service, but they were gone without so muchas thanking me: and the day after I had business of my own to attendto--a bad business too," said Mr. Huxter, gloomily. "But it's done, andcan't be undone; and we must make the best of it"
She has known the story for a month, thought Pen, with a sharp pang ofgrief, and a gloomy sympathy--this accounts for her letter of to-day.She will not implicate her father, or divulge his secret; she wishes tolet me off from the marriage--and finds a pretext--the generous girl!
"Do you know who Altamont is, sir?" asked Huxter, after the pause duringwhich Pen had been thinking of his own affairs. "Fanny and I have talkedhim over, and we can't help fancying that it's Mrs. Lightfoot's firsthusband come to life again, and she who has just married a second.Perhaps Lightfoot won't be very sorry for it," sighed Huxter, lookingsavagely at Arthur, for the demon of jealousy was still in possessionof his soul; and now, and more than ever since his marriage, the poorfellow fancied that Fanny's heart belonged to his rival.
"Let us talk about your affairs," said Pen. "Show me how I can be of anyservice to you, Huxter. Let me congratulate you on your marriage. I amthankful that Fanny, who is so good, so fascinating, so kind a creature,has found an honest man, and a gentleman who will make her happy. Showme what I can do to help you."
"She thinks you can, sir," said Huxter, accepting Pen's proffered hand,"and I'm very much obliged to you, I'm sure; and that you might talkover my father, and break the business to him, and my mother, who alwayshas her back up about being a clergyman's daughter. Fanny ain't of agood family, I know, and not up to us in breeding and that--but she's aHuxter now."
"The wife takes the husband's rank, of course," said Pen.
"And with a little practice in society," continued Huxter, imbibing hisstick, "she'll be as good as any girl in Clavering. You should hearher sing and play on the piano. Did you ever? Old Bows taught her. Andshe'll do on the stage, if the governor was to throw me over; butI'd rather not have her there. She can't help being a coquette, Mr.Pendennis, she can't help it. Dammy, sir! I'll be bound to say, that twoor three of the Bartholomew chaps, that I've brought into my place, aresitting with her now: even Jack Linton, that I took down as my best man,is as bad as the rest, and she will go on singing and making eyes athim. It's what Bows says, if there were twenty men in a room, and onenot taking notice of her, she wouldn't be satisfied until the twentiethwas at her elbow."
"You should have her mother with her," said Pen, laughing.
"She must keep the lodge. She can't see so much of her family as sheused. I can't, you know, sir, go on with that lot. Consider my rank inlife," said Huxter, putting a very dirty hand up to his chin.
"Au fait," said Mr. Pen, who was infinitely amused, and concerning whommutato nomine (and of course concerning nobody else in the world) thefable might have been narrated.
As the two gentlemen were in the midst of this colloquy, another knockcame to Pen's door, and his servant presently announced Mr. Bows. Theold man followed slowly, his pale face blushing, and his hand tremblingsomewhat as he took Pen's. He coughed, and wiped his face in his checkedcotton pocket-handkerchief, and sate down with his hands on his knees,the sunshining on his bald head. Pen looked at the homely figure with nosmall sympathy and kindness. This man, too, has had his griefs and hiswounds, Arthur thought. This man, too, has brought his genius and hisheart, and laid them at a woman's feet; where she spurned them. Thechance of life has gone against him, and the prize is with that creatureyonder. Fanny's bridegroom, thus mutely apostrophised, had winkedmeanwhile with one eye at old Bows, and was driving holes in the floorwith the cane which he loved.
"So we have lost, Mr. Bows, and here is the lucky winner," Pen said,looking hard at the old man.
"Here is the lucky winner, sir, as you say."
"I suppose you have come from my place?" asked Huxter, who, havingwinked at Bows with one eye, now favoured Pen with a wink ofthe other--a wink which seemed to say, "Infatuated old boy--youunderstand--over head and ears in love with her poor old fool."
"Yes, I have been there ever since you went away. It was Mrs. Samwho sent me after you: who said that she thought you might be doingsomething stupid--something like yourself, Huxter."
"There's as big fools as I am," growled the young surgeon.
"A few, p'raps," said the old man; "not many, let us trust. Yes, shesent me after you for fear you should offend Mr. Pendennis; and Idaresay because she thought you wouldn't give her message to him, andbeg him to go and see her; and she knew I would take her errand. Did hetel
l you that, sir?"
Huxter blushed scarlet, and covered his confusion with an imprecation.Pen laughed; the scene suited his bitter humour more and more.
"I have no doubt Mr. Huxter was going to tell me," Arthur said, "andvery much flattered I am sure I shall be to pay my respects to hiswife."
"It's in Charterhouse Lane, over the baker's, on the right hand side asyou go from St. John's Street," continued Bows, without any pity. "Youknow Smithfield, Mr. Pendennis? St. John's Street leads into Smithfield.Doctor Johnson has been down the street many a time with ragged shoes,and a bundle of penny-a-lining for the Gent's Magazine. You literarygents are better off now--eh? You ride in your cabs, and wear yellow kidgloves now."
"I have known so many brave and good men fail, and so many quacks andimpostors succeed, that you mistake me if you think I am puffed up by myown personal good luck, old friend," Arthur said, sadly. "Do you thinkthe prizes of life are carried by the most deserving? and set up thatmean test of prosperity for merit? You must feel that you are as goodas I. I have never questioned it. It is you that are peevish against thefreaks of fortune, and grudge the good luck that befalls others. It'snot the first time you have unjustly accused me, Bows."
"Perhaps you are not far wrong, sir," said the old fellow, wiping hisbald forehead. "I am thinking about myself and grumbling; most men dowhen they get on that subject. Here's the fellow that's got the prize inthe lottery; here's the fortunate youth."
"I don't know what you are driving at," Huxter said, who had been muchpuzzled as the above remarks passed between his two companions.
"Perhaps not," said Bows, drily. "Mrs. H. sent me here to look afteryou, and to see that you brought that little message to Mr. Pendennis,which you didn't, you see, and so she was right. Women always are; theyhave always a reason for everything. Why, sir," he said, turning roundto Pen with a sneer, "she had a reason even for giving me that message.I was sitting with her after you left us, very quiet and comfortable; Iwas talking away, and she was mending your shirts, when your two youngfriends, Jack Linton and Bob Blades, looked in from Bartholomew's; andthen it was she found out that she had this message to send. You needn'thurry yourself, she don't want you back again; they'll stay these twohours, I daresay."
Huxter arose with great perturbation at this news, and plunged his stickinto the pocket of his paletot, and seized his hat.
"You'll come and see us, sir, won't you?" he said to Pen. "You'll talkover the governor, won't you, sir, if I can get out of this place anddown to Clavering?"
"You will promise to attend me gratis if ever I fall ill at Fairoaks,will you, Huxter?" Pen said, good-naturedly. "I will do anything Ican for you. I will come and see Mrs. Huxter immediately, and we willconspire together about what is to be done."
"I thought that would send him out, sir," Bows said, dropping into hischair again as soon as the young surgeon had quitted the room. "And it'sall true, sir--every word of it. She wants you back again, and sends herhusband after you. She cajoles everybody, the little devil. She tries iton you, on me, on poor Costigan, on the young chaps from Bartholomew's.She's got a little court of 'em already. And if there's nobody there,she practises on the old German baker in the shop, or coaxes the blacksweeper at the crossing."
"Is she fond of that fellow?" asked Pen.
"There is no accounting for likes and dislikes," Bows answered.
"Yes, she is fond of him; and having taken the thing into her head, shewould not rest until she married him. They had their banns published atSt. Clement's, and nobody heard it or knew any just cause or impediment.And one day she slips out of the porter's lodge and has the businessdone, and goes off to Gravesend with Lothario; and leaves a note for meto go and explain all things to her Ma. Bless you! the old woman knew itas well as I did, though she pretended ignorance. And so she goes, andI'm alone again. I miss her, sir, tripping along that court, and comingfor her singing lesson; and I've no heart to look into the porter'slodge now, which looks very empty without her, the little flirtingthing. And I go and sit and dangle about her lodgings, like an old fool.She makes 'em very trim and nice, though; gets up all Huxter's shirtsand clothes: cooks his little dinner, and sings at her business like alittle lark. What's the use of being angry? I lent 'em three pound to goon with: for they haven't got a shilling till the reconciliation, and Pacomes down."
When Bows had taken his leave, Pen carried his letter from Blanche, andthe news which he had just received, to his usual adviser, Laura. It waswonderful upon how many points Mr. Arthur, who generally followed hisown opinion, now wanted another person's counsel. He could hardly somuch as choose a waistcoat without referring to Miss Bell: if he wantedto buy a horse he must have Miss Bell's opinion; all which marks ofdeference tended greatly to the amusement of the shrewd old lady withwhom Miss Bell lived, and whose plans regarding her protegee we haveindicated.
Arthur produced Blanche's letter then to Laura, and asked her tointerpret it. Laura was very much agitated and puzzled by the contentsof the note.
"It seems to me," she said, "as if Blanche is acting very artfully."
"And wishes so to place matters that she may take me or leave me? Is itnot so?"
"It is, I am afraid, a kind of duplicity which does not augur wellfor your future happiness; and is a bad reply to your own candour andhonesty, Arthur. Do you know, I think, I think--I scarcely like to saywhat I think," said Laura with a deep blush; but of course the blushingyoung lady yielded to her cousin's persuasion, and expressed what herthoughts were. "It looks to me, Arthur, as if there might be--theremight be somebody else," said, Laura, with a repetition of the blush.
"And if there is," broke in Arthur, "and if I am free once again, willthe best and dearest of all women----"
"You are not free, dear brother," Laura said calmly. "You belong toanother; of whom I own it grieves me to think ill. But I can't dootherwise. It is very odd that in this letter she does not urge you totell her the reason why you have broken arrangements which would havebeen so advantageous to you; and avoids speaking on the subject. Shesomehow seems to write as if she knows her father's secret."
Pen said, "Yes, she must know it;" and told the story, which he had justheard from Huxter, of the interview at Shepherd's Inn.
"It was not so that she described the meeting," said Laura; and, goingto her desk, produced from it that letter of Blanche's which mentionedher visit to Shepherd's Inn. 'Another disappointment--only the ChevalierStrong and a friend of his in the room.' This was all that Blanche hadsaid. "But she was bound to keep her father's secret, Pen," Laura added."And yet, and yet--it is very puzzling."
The puzzle was this, that for three weeks after this eventful discoveryBlanche had been only too eager about her dearest Arthur; was urging,as strongly as so much modesty could urge, the completion of the happyarrangements which were to make her Arthur's for ever; and now it seemedas if something had interfered to mar these happy arrangements--as ifArthur poor was not quite so agreeable to Blanche as Arthur rich and amember of Parliament--as if there was some mystery. At last she said:
"Tunbridge Wells is not very far off, is it, Arthur? Hadn't you bettergo and see her?"
They had been in town a week, and neither had thought of that simpleplan before!
The History of Pendennis Page 75
