A Set of Rogues Part 22

He made no reply to this, but bending forward he gazed into the fire, with a rapture in his face, pressing one hand within the other as if it were his sweetheart's.

"In the meantime," says I, "if you have necessity for a hundred or two in advance, you have but to give me your note of hand."

"Can you do me this service?" cries he, eagerly. "Can you let me have five hundred by to-morrow?"

"I believe I can supply you to the extent of six or seven."

"All that you can," says he; "for besides a pressing need that will take me to London to-morrow, I owe something to a friend here that I would fain discharge."

Don Sanchez waived his hand cavalierly, though I do believe the subtle Spaniard had hinted at this business as much for his own ends as for our a.s.surance.

"I will have it ready against we meet in the morning," says I. "You are so certain of her sanction?" he asks in delight, as if he could not too much a.s.sure himself of Moll's devotion.

"She has been guided by me in all matters relating to her estate, and will be in this, I am convinced. But here's another question, sir, which, while we are about business, might be discussed with advantage.

My rule here is nearly at an end. Have you decided who shall govern the estate when I am gone?"

"Only that when I have authority that rascal Simon shall be turned from his office, neck and crop. He loves me as little as he loves his mistress, that he would set us by the ears for his own advantage."

"An honest man, nevertheless--in his peculiar way," observes the Don.

"Honest!" cries Mr. G.o.dwin, hotly. "He honest who would have suffered Judith to die in Barbary! He shall go."

"Then you will take in your own hands the control of your joint estate?"

"I? Why, I know no more of such matters than the man in the moon."

"With all respect to your cousin's abilities, I cannot think her qualified for this office."

"Surely another steward can be found."

"Undoubtedly," says I. "But surely, sir, you'd not trust all to him without some supervision. Large sums of money must pa.s.s through his hands, and this must prove a great temptation to dishonest practices.

'Twould not be fair to any man."

"This is true," says he. "And yet from natural disinclination, ignorance, and other reasons, I would keep out of it." Then after some reflection he adds, "My cousin has told me how you have lost all your fortune in saving her, and that 'tis not yet possible to repay you. May I ask, sir, without offence, if you have any occupation for your time when you leave us?"

"I went to London when I left you to see what might be done; but a merchant without money is like a carpenter without tools."

"Then, sir, till your debt is discharged, or you can find some more pleasant and profitable engagement, would you not consent to govern these affairs? I do not ask you to stay here, though a.s.suredly you will ever be a welcome guest; but if you would have one of the houses on the estate or come hither from time to time as it might fit your other purposes, and take this office as a matter of business, I should regard it as a most generous, friendly kindness on your part."

I promised him with some demur, and yet with the civility his offer demanded, to consider of this; and so our debate ended, and I went to bed, very well content with myself, for thus will vanity blind us to our faults.

CHAPTER XXIV.

_I overcome Moll's honest compunctions, lay hold of three thousand pounds more, and do otherwise play the part of rascal to perfection._

I got together six hundred pounds (out of the sum left us after paying Don Sanchez his ten thousand), and delivered 'em to Mr. G.o.dwin against his note of hand, telling him at the same time that, having slept upon his proposal, I was resolved to be his steward for three months, with freedom on both sides to alter our position, according to our convenience, at the end of that time, and would serve him and his lady to the best of my power. Thanking me very heartily for my friendly service to him (though, G.o.d knows, with little reason), he presently left us. And Moll, coming back from taking tender leave of him at her gates, appeared very downcast and pensive. However, after moping an hour in her chamber, she comes to me in her hood, and begs I will take her a walk to dispel her vapours. So we out across the common, it being a fine, brisk, dry morning and the ground hard with a frost. Here, being secure from observation, I showed her how I had settled matters with Mr.

G.o.dwin, dividing the estate in such a manner as would enable her to draw what funds she pleased, without let, hindrance, or any inconvenient question.

At this she draws a deep sigh, fixing her eyes sadly enough on the perspective, as if she were thinking rather of her absent lover than the business in hand. Somewhat nettled to find she prized my efforts on her behalf so lightly, I proceeded to show her the advantages of this arrangement, adding that, to make her property the surer, I had consented to manage both her affairs and Mr. G.o.dwin's when they were married.

"And so," says I, in conclusion, "you may have what money you want, and dispose of it as you will, and I'll answer for it Mr. G.o.dwin shall never be a penny the wiser."

"Do what you find is necessary," says she, with pa.s.sion. "But for mercy's sake say no more on this matter to me. For all these hints do stab my heart like sharp knives."

Not reading rightly the cause of her petulance, I was at first disposed to resent it; but, reflecting that a maiden is no more responsible for her tongue than a donkey for his heels in this season of life (but both must be for ever a-flying out at some one when parted from the object of their affections), I held my peace; and so we walked on in sullen silence for a s.p.a.ce; then, turning suddenly upon me, she cries in a trembling voice:

"Won't you say something to me? Can't you see that I am unhappy?"

And now, seeing her eyes full of tears, her lips quivering, and her face drawn with pain, my heart melted in a moment; so, taking her arm under mine and pressing it to my side, I bade her be of good cheer, for her lover would return in a day or two at the outside.

"No, not of him,--not of him," she entreats. "Talk to me of indifferent things."

So, thinking to turn her thoughts to another furrow, I told her how I had been to visit her father at Greenwich.

"My father," says she, stopping short. "Oh, what a heartless, selfish creature am I! I have not thought of him in my happiness. Nay, had he been dead I could not have forgot him more. You saw him--is he well?"

"As hearty as you could wish, and full of love for you, and rejoiced beyond measure to know you are to marry a brave, honest gentleman." Then I told how we had drunk to their health, and how her father had smashed his mug for a fancy. And this bringing a smile to her cheek, I went on to tell how he craved to see Mr. G.o.dwin and grip his hand.

"Oh, if he could see what a n.o.ble, handsome man my Richard is!" cries she. "I do think my heart would ache for pride."

"Why, so it shall," says I, "for your father does intend to come hither before long."

"He is coming to see my dear husband!" says she, her face aglow with joy.

"Aye, but he does promise to be most circ.u.mspect, and appear as if, returning from a voyage, he had come but to see how you fare, and will stay no longer than is reasonably civil."

"Only that," says she, her countenance falling again, "we are to hide our love, pretend indifference, behave towards this dear father as if he were nought to me but a friend."

"My dear," says I, "'tis no new part you have to play."

"I know it," she answers hotly, "but that makes it only the worse."

"Well, what would you?"

"Anything" (with pa.s.sion). "I would do anything but cheat and cozen the man I love." Then, after some moments' silence o' both sides, "Oh, if I were really Judith G.o.dwin!"

"If you were she, you'd be in Barbary now, and have neither father nor lover; is that what you want?" says I, with some impatience.

"Bear with me," says she, with a humility as strange in her as these new-born scruples of conscience.

"You may be sure of this, my dear," says I, in a gentler tone, "if you were anything but what you are, Mr. G.o.dwin would not marry you."

"Why, then, not tell him what I am?" asks she, boldly.