The Struggles of Brown, Jones, and Robinson Part 7

"But what I want to know is this," continued the maiden; "how is it to be about that five hundred pounds which my mother left me?"

"But, my dear, your mother had not five hundred pounds to leave."

"Nor did she make any will if she had," said Robinson.

"Now don't put in your oar, for I won't have it," said the lady. "And you'd show a deal more correct feeling if you wasn't so much about the house just at present. My darling mamma,"--and then she put her handkerchief up to her eyes--"always told William that when he and I became one, there should be five hundred pounds down;--and of course he expects it. Now, sir, you often talk about your love for your children."

"I do love them; so I do. What else have I?"

"Now's the time to prove it. Let me have that sum of five hundred pounds, and I will always take your part against the Joneses. Five hundred pounds isn't so much,--and surely I have a right to some share. And you may be sure of this; when we're settled, Brisket is not the man to come back to you for more, as some would do." And then she gave another look at Robinson.

"I haven't got the money; have I, George?" said the father.

"That question I cannot answer," replied Robinson. "Nor can I say how far it might be prudent in you to debar yourself from all further progress in commerce if you have got it. But this I can say; do not let any consideration for me prevent you from giving a dowry with your daughter to Mr. Brisket; if she loves him--"

"Oh, it's all bother about love," said she; "men and women must eat, and they must have something to give their children, when they come."

"But if I haven't got it, my dear?"

"That's nonsense, father. Where has the money gone to? Whatever you do, speak the truth. If you choose to say you won't--"

"Well, then, I won't," said he, roused suddenly to anger. "I never made Brisket any promise!"

"But mother did; she as is now gone, and far away; and it was her money,--so it was."

"It wasn't her money;--it was mine!" said Mr. Brown.

"And that's all the answer I'm to get? Very well. Then I shall know where to look for my rights. And as for that fellow there, I didn't think it of him, that he'd be so mean. I knew he was a coward always."

"I am neither mean nor a coward," said Robinson, jumping up, and speaking with a voice that was audible right across Spavinhorse Yard, and into the tap of the "Man of Mischief" public-house opposite. "As for meanness, if I had the money, I would pour it out into your lap, though I knew that it was to be converted into beef and mutton for the benefit of a hated rival. And as for cowardice, I repel the charge, and drive it back into the teeth of him who, doubtless, made it. I am no coward."

"You ran away when he bid you!"

"Yes; because he is big and strong, and had I remained, he would have knocked me about, and made me ridiculous in the eyes of the spectators. But I am no coward. If you wish it, I am ready to fight him."

"Oh, dear, no. It can be nothing to me."

"He will make me one mash of gore," said Robinson, still holding out his hand. "But if you wish it, I care nothing for that. His brute strength will, of course, prevail; but I am indifferent as to that, if it would do you a pleasure."

"Pleasure to me! Nothing of the kind, I can a.s.sure you."

"Maryanne, if I might have my wish, it should be this. Let us both sit down, with our cigars lighted,--ay, and with tapers in our hands,--on an open barrel of gunpowder. Then let him who will sit there longest receive this fair hand as his prize." And as he finished, he leaned over her, and took up her hand in his.

"Laws, Robinson!" she said; but she did not on the moment withdraw her hand. "And if you were both blew up, what'd I do then?"

"I won't hear of such an arrangement," said Mr. Brown. "It would be very wicked. If there's another word spoke about it, I'll go to the police at once!"

On that occasion Mr. Brown was quite determined about the money; and, as we heard afterwards, Mr. Brisket expressed himself as equally resolute. "Of course, I expect to see my way," said he; "I can't do anything of that sort without seeing my way." When that overture about the gunpowder was repeated to him, he is reported to have become very red. "Either with gloves or without, or with the sticks, I'm ready for him," said he; "but as for sitting on a barrel of gunpowder, it's a thing as n.o.body wouldn't do unless they was in Bedlam."

When that interview was over, Robinson walked forth by himself into the evening air, along Giltspur Street, down the Old Bailey, and so on by Bridge Street, to the middle of Blackfriars Bridge; and as he walked, he strove manfully to get the better of the pa.s.sion which was devouring the strength of his blood, and the marrow of his bones.

"If she be not fair for me," he sang to himself, "what care I how fair she be?" But he did care; he could not master that pa.s.sion.

She had been vile to him, unfeminine, untrue, coa.r.s.ely abusive; she had shown herself to be mercenary, incapable of true love, a scold, fickle, and cruel. But yet he loved her. There was a gallant feeling at his heart that no misfortune could conquer him,--but one; that misfortune had fallen upon him,--and he was conquered.

"Why is it," he said as he looked down into the turbid stream--"why is it that bloodshed, physical strife, and brute power are dear to them all? Any fool can have personal bravery; 'tis but a sign of folly to know no fear. Grant that a man has no imagination, and he cannot fear; but when a man does fear, and yet is brave--" Then for awhile he stopped himself. "Would that I had gone at his throat like a dog!" he continued, still in his soliloquy. "Would that I had!

Could I have torn out his tongue, and laid it as a trophy at her feet, then she would have loved me." After that he wandered slowly home, and went to bed.

CHAPTER VIII.

MR. BRISKET THINKS HE SEES HIS WAY, AND MR. ROBINSON AGAIN WALKS ON BLACKFRIARS BRIDGE.

For some half-hour on that night, as Robinson had slowly walked backwards and forwards across the bridge, ideas of suicide had flitted across his mind. Should he not put an end to all this,--to all this and so much else that hara.s.sed him and made life weary.

"''Tis a consummation devoutly to be wished,'" he said, as he looked down into the dark river. And then he repeated a good deal more, expressing his desire to sleep, but acknowledging that his dreams in that strange bed might be the rub. "And thus 'calamity must still live on,'" he said, as he went home to his lodgings.

Then came those arrangements as to the partners.h.i.+p and the house in Bishopsgate Street, which have already been narrated. During the weeks which produced these results, he frequently saw Maryanne in Smithfield, but never spoke to her, except on the ordinary topics of the day. In his demeanour he was courteous to her, but he never once addressed her except as Miss Brown, and always with a politeness which was as cold as it was studied. On one or two occasions he thought that he observed in her manner something that showed a wish for reconciliation; but still he said nothing to her. "She has treated me like a dog," he said to himself, "and yet I love her. If I tell her so, she will treat me worse than a dog." Then he heard, also, that Brisket had declared more than once that he could not see his way. "I could see mine," he said, "as though a star guided me, if she should but stretch forth her hand to me and ask me to forgive her."

It was some week or two after the deed of partners.h.i.+p had been signed, and when the house at No. 81 had been just taken, that Miss Twizzle came to Robinson. He was, at the moment, engaged in composition for an ill.u.s.trious house in the Minories that shall be nameless; but he immediately gave his attention to Miss Twizzle, though at the moment he was combating the difficulties of a rhyme which it had been his duty to repeat nineteen times in the same poem.

"I think that will do," said he, as he wrote it down. "And yet it's lame,--very lame:

But no lady ever loses By going to the shop of--"

And then Miss Twizzle entered.

"I see you are engaged," said she, "and, perhaps, I had better call another time."

"By no means, Miss Twizzle; pray be seated. How is everything going on at the Hall of Harmony?"

"I haven't been there, Mr. Robinson, since that night as Mr. Brisket did behave so bad. I got such a turn that night, as I can't endure the sight of the room ever since. If you'll believe me, I can't."

"It was not a pleasant occurrence," said Robinson. "I felt it very keenly. A man's motives are so vilely misconstrued, Miss Twizzle. I have been accused of--of--cowardice."

"Not by me, Mr. Robinson. I did say you should have stuck up a bit; but I didn't mean anything like that."

"Well; it's over now. When are they to be married, Miss Twizzle?"

"Now, Mr. Robinson, don't you talk like that. You wouldn't take it all calm that way if you thought she was going to have him."

"I mean to take it very calm for the future."

"But I suppose you're not going to give her up. It wouldn't be like you, that wouldn't."

"She has spurned me, Miss Twizzle; and after that--."