LITMIR.BIZ

Скачать книгу

the only advantage they gained from his intervention was the acquisition of certain information that the woman who had married Thomas had been married before.

      Accordingly Thomas was free, and he used his freedom some years later, when of a ripe age, to marry Sarah Kink, the sister of Bideabout.

      Rocliffe had never been able to shake himself free of the ridicule that attended to him, after the expedition to London, and what was infinitely more vexatious and worse to endure was the burden of debt that had then been incurred, and which was more than doubled through the activity of the lawyer by whom he had been inveigled into submitting himself and his affairs to him.

      As the eating and drinking proceeded, the Broom-Squire drank copiously, became noisy, boastful, and threw out sarcastic remarks calculated to hit those who ate and drank with him, but were mainly directed against those of his own family who had absented themselves, but to whose ears he was confident they would be wafted.

      Mehetabel, who saw that he was imbibing more than he could bear without becoming quarrelsome lost her pallor, and a hectic flame kindled in her cheek.

      Mrs. Verstage looked on uneasily. She was familiar with the moods of Bideabout, and feared the turn matters would take.

      Presently he announced that he would sing a song, and in harsh tones began: —

      "A cobbler there was, and he lived in a stall,

      But Charlotte, my nymph, had no lodging at all.

      And at a Broom-Squire's, in pitiful plight,

      Did pray and beseech for a lodging one night,

      Derry-down, derry-down.

      "She asked for admittance, her story to tell.

      Of all her misfortunes, and what her befel,

      Of her parentage high, – but so great was her grief,

      Shed never a comfort to give her relief,

      Derry-down, derry-down.2

      "Now, look here," said Simon Verstage, interrupting the singer, "We all of us know that there ballet, pretty well. It's vastly long, if I remembers aright, something like fourteen verses; and I think we can do very well wi'out it to-night. I fancy your brother-inlaw, Thomas, mightn't relish it."

      "He's not here," said the Broom-Squire.

      "But I am here," said the landlord, "and I say that the piece is too long for singing, 'twill make you too hoarse to say purty speeches and soft things to your new missus, and it's a bit stale for our ears."

      "It's an ill bird that befouls its own nest," said a young fellow present.

      Bideabout overheard the remark. "What do you mean by that? Was that aimed at me?" he shouted and started to his feet.

      A brawl would have inevitably ensued, but for a timely interruption.

      In the door stood a well-dressed, good-looking young man, surveying the assembled company with a smile.

      Silence ensued. Bideabout looked round.

      Then, with a cry of joy, mingled with pain, Mrs. Verstage started from her feet.

      "It is Iver! my Iver!"

      In another moment mother and son were locked in each other's arms.

      The guests rose and looked questioningly at their host, before they welcomed the intruder.

      Simon Verstage remained seated, with his glass in his hand, gazing sternly into it. His face became mottled, red spots appeared on the temples, and on the cheekbones; elsewhere he was pale.

      Mehetabel went to him, placed her hand upon his, and said, in a trembling voice, "Dear father, this is my wedding day. I am about to leave you for good. Do not deny me the one and only request I make. Forgive Iver."

      The old man's lips moved, but he did not speak. He looked steadily, somewhat sternly, at the young man and mustered his appearance.

      Meanwhile Iver had disengaged himself from his mother's embrace, and he came towards his father with extended hand.

      "See," said he cheerily, "I am free to admit, and do it heartily, that I did wrong, in painting over the stern of the vessel, and putting it into perspective as far as my lights went. Father! I can remove the coat of paint that I put on, and expose that outrageous old stern again. I will do more. I will violate all the laws of perspective in heaven and earth, and turn the bows round also, so as to thoroughly show the ship's head, and make that precious vessel look like a dog curling itself up for a nap. Will that satisfy you?"

      All the guests were silent, and fixed their eyes anxiously on the taverner.

      Iver was frank in speech, had lost all provincial dialect, was quite the gentleman. He had put off the rustic air entirely. He was grown a very handsome fellow, with oval face, full hair on his head, somewhat curling, and his large brown eyes were sparkling with pleasure at being again at home. In his whole bearing there was self-confidence.

      "Simon!" pleaded Mrs. Verstage, with tears in her voice, "he's your own flesh and blood!"

      He remained unmoved.

      "Father!" said Mehetabel, clinging to his hand, "Dear, dear father! for my sake, whom you have loved, and whom you lose out of your house to-day."

      "There is my hand," said the old man.

      "And you shall have the ship again just as suits your heart," said Iver.

      "I doubt," answered the taverner, "it will be easier to get the Old Ship to look what she ort, than it will be to get you to look again like a publican's son."

      The reconciliation on the old man's side was without cordiality, yet it was accepted by all present with cheers and handshakings.

      It was but too obvious that the modish appearance of his son had offended the old man.

      "Heaven bless me!" exclaimed Iver, when this commotion was somewhat allayed. He was looking with undisguised admiration and surprise at Mehetabel.

      "Why," asked he, pushing his way towards her, "What is the meaning of all this?"

      "That is Matabel, indeed," explained his mother. "And this is her wedding day."

      "You married! You, Matabel! And, to-day! The day of my return!

      Where is the happy man? Show him to me."

      His mother indicated the bridegroom. Mehetabel's heart was too

      full to speak; she was too dazed with the new turn of affairs to know what to do.

      Iver looked steadily at Jonas.

      "What!" he exclaimed, "Bideabout! Never, surely! I cannot mistake your face nor the look of your eyes. So, you have won the prize – you!"

      Still he looked at Jonas. He refrained from extending his hand in congratulation. Whether thoughtlessly or not, he put it behind his back. An expression passed over his face that the bride observed, and it sent the blood flying to her cheek and temples.

      "So," said Iver, and now he held out both hands, "Little Matabel,

      I have returned to lose you!"

      He wrung her hands, both, – he would not let them go.

      "I wish you all joy. I wish you everything, everything that your heart can desire. But I am surprised. I can't realize it all at once. My little Matabel grown so big, become so handsome – and, hang me, leaving the Old Ship! Poor Old Ship! Bideabout, I ought to have been consulted. I gave Matabel her name. I have certain rights over her, and I won't surrender them all in a hurry. Here, mother, give me a glass, 'tis a strange day on which I come home."

      Dissatisfaction appeared in his face, hardly to be expected in one who should have been in cloudless radiance on his return after years of absence, and with his quarrel with the father at an end.

      Now old acquaintances crowded about him to ask questions as to how he had lived during his absence, upon what he had been employed, how the world had fared with him, whether he was married, and if so,

Скачать книгу