Complete Novels of Maria Edgeworth

by Maria Edgeworth

  The Jew took a pen immediately, and drew up a captivating list of prizes.

  Holloway promised to copy it, because Mr. Carat said his hand must not appear in the business, and it must be conducted with the strictest secrecy; because “the law,” added the Jew, “has a little jealousy of these sort of things — government likes none but licensed lotteries, young gentleman.”

  “The law! I don’t care what the law likes,” replied the school-boy; “if I break the law, I hope I’m rich enough to pay the forfeit, or my father will pay for me, which is better still.”

  To this doctrine the Jew readily assented, and they parted, mutually satisfied with each other.

  It was agreed that Lord Rawson should drive his friend to Marryborough the next Tuesday, and that he should return on Wednesday, with Holloway, to Westminster, on purpose that he might meet Mr. Carat there, who was then to deliver the prizes.

  “I’ll lay you a bet,” cried Lord Rawson, as he left the Jew’s, “that you’ll have a prize yourself. Now are you not obliged to me for introducing you to Carat?”

  “Yes, that I am,” replied Holloway; “it’s easier to put into the lottery than to write Latin verses and English essays. I’ll puzzle and bore myself no more with those things, I promise my father.”

  “Who does, after they’ve once left school, I want to know?” said his noble friend. “I’m sure I’ve forgot all I ever learned from Latin and Greek fellows; you know they tell just for nothing when one gets into the world. I make it a principle never to talk of books, for nobody does, you know, that has any thing else to talk of. None but quizzes and quozzes ever came out with any thing of that sort. Now, how they’d stare at Marryborough, Holloway, if you were to begin sporting some of your Horace and Virgil!”

  The dashing, yet bashful school-boy, with much emotion, swore that he cared as little for Horace and Virgil as his lordship did. Holloway was really an excellent scholar, but he began to be heartily ashamed of it in his lordship’s company, and prudently resolved to adopt the principles he had just heard; to forget as fast as possible all he had learned: never to talk of books; and to conceal both his knowledge and his abilities, lest they should stare at him at Maryborough.

  The lottery tickets were easily disposed of amongst the young gentlemen at Westminster. As young men can seldom calculate, they are always ready to trust to their individual good fortune, and they are, consequently, ever ready to put into any species of lottery.

  “Look here!” cried little Oliver, showing a lottery ticket to Howard; “look what Holloway has just offered to give me, instead of half-a-guinea, which he owes me. I told him I would just run and ask your advice. Shall I accept of it?”

  “I would advise you not,” answered Howard; “you are sure of your half-guinea, and you have only a chance of getting any thing in the lottery.”

  “Oh, but then I’ve a chance of such a number of fine things! You have not seen the list of prizes. Do you know there’s a watch amongst them? Now, suppose my ticket should come up a prize, and that I should get a watch for my half-guinea! — a real watch! — a watch that would go! — a watch that I should wind up myself every night! O Charles! would not that be a good bargain for my half-guinea? I’m sure you have not read the list of prizes, have you?”

  “No, I have not,” said Howard: “have you seen the list of blanks?”

  “Of blanks! No,” said Oliver, with a changed countenance; “I never thought of the blanks.”

  “And yet in most lotteries there are many more blanks than prizes, you know.”

  “Are there? Well, but I hope I shall not have a blank,” said Oliver.

  “So every body hopes, but some people must be disappointed.”

  “Yes,” said the little boy, pausing—”but then some people must win, and I have as good a chance as another, have not I?”

  “And do you know what the chance against your winning is? Once I had a great mind, as you have now, Oliver, to put into a lottery. It was just after my aunt lost all her fortune, and I thought that if I were to get the twenty thousand pound prize, I could give it to her.”

  “I’ll give my watch (if I get it, I mean) to somebody. I’ll give it to the mulatto woman, because she is poor. No; I’ll give it to you, because you are the best, and I love you the best, and I am more obliged to you than to any body in the world, for you have taught me more; and you have taught me as I was never taught before, without laughing at, or scolding, or frightening, or calling me blockhead or dunce; and you have made me think a great deal better of myself; and I am always happy when I’m with you; and I’m quite another creature since you came to school. I hope you’ll never leave school whilst I am here,” cried Oliver.

  “But you have quite forgot the lottery,” said Howard, smiling, and much touched by his little friend’s simplicity and enthusiasm.

  “Oh, the lottery! ay,” said Oliver, “you were telling me something about yourself; do go on.”

  “I once thought, as you do now, that it would be a charming thing to put into a lottery.”

  “Well, and did you win?”

  “No.”

  “Did you lose?”

  “No.”

  “How then?”

  “I did not put into the lottery, for I was convinced that it was a foolish way of spending money.”

  “If you think it’s foolish or wrong,” said Oliver, “I’ll have nothing to do with this lottery.”

  “I don’t want to govern you by my opinion,” said Howard; “but if you have patience to attend to all the reasons that convinced me, you will be able to judge, and form an opinion for yourself. You know I must leave school some time or other, and then—”

  “Well, don’t talk of that, but tell me all the reasons, quick.”

  “I can’t tell them so very quickly,” said Howard, laughing: “when we go home this evening I’ll ask my aunt to look for the passage in Smith’s Wealth of Nations, which she showed me.”

  “Oh!” interrupted Oliver, with a sigh, “Smith’s Wealth of what? That’s a book, I’m sure, I shall never be able to understand; is it not that great large book that Mr. Russell reads?”

  “Yes.”

  “But I shall never understand it.”

  “Because it’s a large book?”

  “No,” said Oliver, smiling, “but because I suppose it’s very difficult to understand.”

  “Not what I’ve read of it: but I have only read passages here and there. That passage about lotteries, I think, you would understand, because it is so plainly written.”

  “I’ll read it, then,” said Oliver, “and try; and in the meantime I’ll go and tell Holloway that I had rather not put into the lottery, till I know whether it’s right or not.”

  Holloway flew into a violent passion with little Oliver when he went to return his lottery ticket. He abused and ridiculed Howard for his interference, and succeeded so well in raising a popular cry, that the moment Howard appeared on the playground, a general hiss, succeeded by a deep groan, was heard. — Howard recollected the oracle’s answer to Cicero, and was not dismayed by the voice of the multitude. Holloway threw down half-a-guinea, to pay Oliver, and muttered to himself, “I’ll make you remember this, Mr. Oliver.”

  “I’ll give this half-guinea to the mulatto woman, and that’s much better than putting it into a lottery, Charles,” said the little boy; and, as soon as the business of the day was done, Oliver, Howard, and Mr. Russell, took their usual evening’s walk towards the gardener’s house.

  “Ay, come in,” cried old Paul, “come in! God bless you all! I don’t know which is the best of you. I’ve been looking out of my door this quarter of an hour for ye,” said he, as soon as he saw them; “and I don’t know when I’ve been idle a quarter of an hour afore. But I’ve put on my best coat, though it’s not Sunday, and wife has treated her to a dish of tea, and she’s up and dressed — the mulatto woman, I mean — and quite hearty again. Walk in, walk in; it will do your hearts good to see her; she’s so gratef
ul too, though she can’t speak good English, which is her only fault, poor soul; but we can’t be born what we like, or she would have been as good an Englishman as the best of us. Walk in, walk in. — And the chimney does not smoke, master, no more than I do; and the window opens too; and the paper’s up, and looks beautiful. God bless ye, God bless ye — walk in.” Old Paul, whilst he spoke, had stopped the way into the room; but at length he recollected that they could not walk in whilst he stood in the door-way, and he let them pass.

  The little room was no longer the smoky, dismal, miserable place which it was formerly. It was neatly papered; it was swept clean; there was a cheerful fire, which burnt quite clearly: the mulatto woman was cleanly dressed, and, rising from her work, she clasped her hands together with an emotion of joyful gratitude, which said more than any words could have expressed.

  This room was not papered, nor was the chimney cured of smoking, nor was the woman clad in new clothes, by magic. It was all done by human means — by the industry and abilities of a benevolent boy.

  The translation of the little French book, which Howard had completed, procured him the means of doing good. The book-seller to whom he offered it was both an honest man, and a good judge of literary productions. Mr. Russell’s name also operated in his pupil’s favour, and Howard received ten guineas for his translation.

  Oliver was impatient for an opportunity to give his half-guinea, which he had held in his hand, till it was quite warm. “Let me look at that pretty thimble of yours,” said he, going up to the mulatto woman, who had now taken up her work again; and, as he playfully pulled off the thimble, he slipped his half-guinea into her hand; then he stopped her thanks, by running on to a hundred questions about her thimble. “What a strange thimble! How came you by such a thimble? Was it given to you? Did you buy it? What’s the use of this screw round the inside of the rim of it? Do look at it, Charles!”

  The thimble was, indeed, remarkable; and it seemed extraordinary that such a one should belong to a poor woman, who had lately been in great distress.

  “It is gold,” said Mr. Russell, examining it, “and very old gold.”

  The mulatto woman sighed; and as she put the thimble upon her finger again, said, that she did not know whether it was gold or not; but she had a great value for it; that she had had it a great many years; that it had been given to her by the best friend she had ever had.

  “Tell me about that best friend,” said Oliver; “I like to hear about best friends.”

  “She was a very good friend indeed; though she was but young, scarcely bigger than yourself, at the time she gave me this thimble: she was my young mistress; I came all the way from Jamaica on purpose to find her out, and in hopes to live with her in my elder days.”

  “Jamaica!” cried Howard; “Jamaica!” cried Oliver, in the same breath; “what was her name?”

  “Frances Howard.”

  “My aunt,” exclaimed Howard.

  “I’ll run and tell her; I’ll run and bring her here, this instant!” said Oliver. But Mr. Russell caught hold of him, and detained him, whilst they further questioned the woman. Her answers were perfectly consistent and satisfactory. She said, that her mistress’s estate in Jamaica had been sold just before she left the island; that some of the old slaves had been set at liberty, by orders, which came, she understood, in her mistress’s last letter; and that, amongst the rest, she had been freed: that she had heard say that her good mistress had desired the agent to give her also some little provision ground, upon the plantation, but that this had never been done; and that she had sold all the clothes and little things she possessed, to raise money to pay for her passage to England, hoping to find her mistress in London. She added, that the agent had given her a direction to her mistress; but that she had, in vain, applied at at the house, and at every house in the same street. “Show us the direction, if you have it,” said Mr. Russell. The woman said she had kept it very carefully; but now it was almost worn out. The direction was, however, still legible upon the ragged bit of paper which she produced — To Mrs. Frances Howard, Portman Square, London. The instant Mr. Russell was satisfied, he was as expeditious as Oliver himself; they all three went home immediately to Mrs. Howard: she had, some time before, been confined to her room by a severe toothache.

  “You promised me, aunt,” said her nephew, “that as soon as you were well enough, you would go to old Paul’s with us, to see our poor woman; can you go this evening?”

  “Oh do! do, pray; I’m sure you won’t catch cold,” said Oliver; “for we have a very particular reason for wishing you to go.”

  “There is a sedan chair at the door,” said Mr. Russell, “if you are afraid, madam, of catching cold.”

  “I am not rich enough to go out in sedan chairs,” interrupted Mrs. Howard, “nor prudent enough, I am afraid, to stay at home.”

  “Oh! thank you,” said Oliver, who had her clogs ready in his hands; “now you’ll see something that will surprise you.”

  “Then take care you don’t tell me what it is, before I see it,” said Mrs. Howard.

  Oliver, with some difficulty, held his tongue during the walk, and contented himself with working off his superfluous animation, by jumping over every obstacle in his way.

  The meeting between the poor mulatto woman and her mistress was as full of joy and surprise as little Oliver had expected; and this is saying a great deal, for where much is expected, there is usually much disappointment; and very sympathetic people are often angry with others, for not being as much astonished, or as much delighted, as they think the occasion requires.

  The day which Mr. Augustus Holloway imagined would bring him such complete felicity — the day on which Lord Rawson had promised to call for him in his dog-cart, and to drive him down randem-tandem, to Marryborough — was now arrived. His lordship, in his dog-cart, was at the door; and Holloway, in high spirits, was just going to get into the carriage, when some one pulled his coat, and begged to speak a few words with him. It was the stage-coachman, who was absolutely in distress for the value of the lost parcel, which Holloway had promised him should be punctually paid: but Holloway, now that his excursion to Marryborough was perfectly secure, thought but very little of the poor coachman’s difficulties; and though he had the money, which he had raised by the lottery tickets, in his pocket, he determined to keep that for his amusements during the Easter holidays. “You must wait till I come back from Marryborough; I can’t possibly speak to you now; I can’t possibly, you see, keep Lord Rawson waiting. Why didn’t you call sooner? I am not at all convinced that any parcel was lost.”

  “I’ll show you the books — it’s book’d, sir,” said the man, eagerly.

  “Well, well, this is not a time to talk of booking. I’ll be with you in an instant, my lord,” cried Holloway to Lord Rawson, who was all impatience to be off. But the coachman would not quit his hold. “I’m sorry to come to that, master,” said he: “as long as we were both upon honour together, it was very well; but, if you break squares with me, being a gentleman, and rich, you can’t take it ill, I being a poor man and my place and all at stake, if I take the shortest way to get my own: I must go to Dr. B. for justice, if you won’t give it me without my peaching,” said the coachman.

  “I’ll see you again to-morrow morning,” said Holloway, alarmed: “we come up to town again to-morrow.”

  “To-morrow won’t do,” said the coachman; “I shall lose my place and my bread to-day. I know how to trust to young gentlemen’s to-morrows.”

  A volley of oaths from Lord Rawson again summoned his companion. At this instant, Mr. Russell, young Howard, and little Oliver, came up the street, and were passing on to Mrs. Howard’s, when Holloway stopped Howard, who was the last of the party. “For Heaven’s sake,” said he, in a whisper, “do settle for me with this confounded coachman! I know you are rich; your bookseller told me so; pay five guineas for me to him, and you shall have them again to-morrow, there’s a good fellow. Lord Rawson’s waiting; good by.�
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  “Stay, stay,” said Howard, who was not so easily to be drawn into difficulties by a moment’s weakness, or by the want of a moment’s presence of mind: “I know nothing of this business; I have other uses for my money; I cannot pay five guineas for you, Holloway.”

  “Then let it alone,” cried Holloway, with a brutal execration; and he forcibly broke from the coachman, shook hands with his tutor, Mr. Supine, who was talking to Lord Rawson about the varnish of his gig, jumped into the carriage, and was whirled away from all reflection in a moment, by his noble companion.

  The poor coachman entreated Howard to stay one instant, to hear him. He explained the business to him, and reproached himself bitterly for his folly. “I’m sure I thought,” said he, “I was sure of a gentleman’s honour; and young gentlemen ought to be above not paying handsome for their frolics, if they must have frolics; and a frolic’s one thing, and cheating a poor man like me is another; and he had liked to have killed a poor mulatto woman, too, by the overturn of the coach, which was all his doings.”

  “The woman is got very well, and is very well off now,” interrupted Howard; “you need say nothing about that.”

  “Well, but my money, I must say about that,” said the coachman. Here Howard observed, that Mr. Supine had remained at the door in a lounging attitude, and was quite near enough to overhear their conversation. Howard, therefore, to avoid exciting his attention by any mysterious whispers, walked away from the coachman; but in vain; he followed: “I’ll peach,” said he; “I must in my own defence.”

  “Stay till to-morrow morning,” said Howard: “perhaps you’ll be paid then.”

  The coachman, who was a good-natured fellow, said, “Well, I don’t like making mischief among young gentlemen; I will wait till to-morrow, but not a day more, master, if you’d go down on your knees to me.”

  Mr. Supine, whose curiosity was fully awake, called to the coachman the moment Howard was out of hearing, and tried, by various questions, to draw the secret from him. The words, “overturn of the coach — mulatto woman,” and the sentence, which the irritated coachman had pronounced in a raised voice, that “young gentlemen should be above not paying handsome for their frolics,” had reached Mr. Supine’s attentive ear, before Howard had been aware that the tutor was a listener. Nothing more could Mr. Supine draw, however, from the coachman, who now felt himself upon honour, having promised Howard not to peach till the next morning. Difficulties stimulated Mr. Supine’s curiosity; but he remained for the present satisfied in the persuasion that he had discovered a fine frolic of the immaculate Mr. Charles Howard; his own pupil he did not suspect upon this occasion. Holloway’s whisperings with the coachman had ended the moment Mr. Supine appeared at the door, and the tutor had in the same moment been so struck with the beautiful varnish of Lord Rawson’s dog-cart, that his pupil might have whispered longer, without rousing his attention. Mr. Supine was further confirmed in his mistake about Howard, from the recollection of the mulatto woman, whom he had seen at the gardener’s: he knew that she had been hurt by a fall from a stage-coach. He saw Howard much interested about her. All this he joined with what he had just overheard about a frolic, and he was rejoiced at the idea of implicating in this business Mr. Russell, whom he disliked.