The Struggles of Brown, Jones, and Robinson Part 8

"Oh, spurn! that's all my eye. Of course she has. There's a little of that always, you know,--just for the fun of the thing. The course of love shouldn't run too smooth. I wouldn't give a straw for a young man if he wouldn't let me spurn him sometimes."

"But you wouldn't call him a--a--"

"A what? A coward, is it? Indeed but I would, or anything else that came uppermost. Laws! what's the good of keeping company if you ain't to say just what comes uppermost at the moment. 'Twas but the other day I called my young man a raskil."

"It was in sport, no doubt."

"I was that angry at the time I could have tore him limb from limb; I was, indeed. But he says, 'Polly,' says he, 'if I'm a he-raskil, you're a she-raskil; so that needn't make any difference between us.'

And no more it didn't. He gets his salary rose in January, and then we shall be married."

"I wish you all the happiness that married life can bestow," said Robinson.

"That's very prettily said, and I wish the same to you. Only you mustn't be so down like. There's Maryanne; she says you haven't a word for her now."

"She'll find as many words as she likes in Aldersgate Street, no doubt."

"Now, Robinson, if you're going to go on like that, you are not the man I always took you for. You didn't suppose that a girl like Maryanne isn't to have her bit of fun as long as it lasts. Them as is as steady as old horses before marriage usually has their colt's fling after marriage. Maryanne's principles is good, and that's everything;--ain't it?"

"I impute nothing to Miss Brown, except that she is false, and mercenary, and cruel."

"Exactly; just a she-raskil, as Tom called me. I was mercenary and all the rest of it. But, laws! what's that between friends? The long and short of it is this; is Barkis willing? If Barkis is willing, then a certain gentleman as we know in the meat trade may suit himself elsewhere. Come; answer that. Is Barkis willing?"

For a minute or two Robinson sat silent, thinking of the indignities he had endured. That he loved the girl,--loved her warmly, with all his heart,--was only too true. Yes; he loved her too well. Had his affection been of a colder nature, he would have been able to stand off for awhile, and thus have taught the lady a lesson which might have been of service. But, in his present mood, the temptation was too great for him, and he could not resist it. "Barkis is willing,"

said he. And thus, at the first overture, he forgave her all the injury she had done him. A man never should forgive a woman unless he has her absolutely in his power. When he does so, and thus wipes out all old scores, he merely enables her to begin again.

But Robinson had said the word, and Miss Twizzle was not the woman to allow him to go back from it. "That's well," said she. "And now I'll tell you what. Tom and I are going to drink tea in Smithfield, with old Brown, you know. You'll come too; and then, when old Brown goes to sleep, you and Maryanne will make it up." Of course she had her way; and Robinson, though he repented himself of what he was doing before she was out of the room, promised to be there.

And he was there. When he entered Mr. Brown's sitting-room he found Maryanne and Miss Twizzle, but Miss Twizzle's future lord had not yet come. He did not wait for Mr. Brown to go to sleep, but at once declared the purpose of his visit.

"Shall I say 'Maryanne?'" said he, putting out his hand; "or is it to be 'Miss Brown?'"

"Well, I'm sure," said she; "there's a question! If 'Miss Brown' will do for you, sir, it will do uncommon well for me."

"Call her 'Maryanne,' and have done with it," said Miss Twizzle. "I hate all such nonsense, like poison."

"George," said the old man, "take her, and may a father's blessing go along with her. We are partners in the haberdashery business, and now we shall be partners in everything." Then he rose up, as though he were going to join their hands.

"Oh, father, I know a trick worth two of that!" said Maryanne.

"That's not the way we manage these things now-a-days, is it, Polly?"

"I don't know any better way," said Polly, "when Barkis is willing."

"Maryanne," said Robinson, "let bygones be bygones."

"With all my heart," said she. "All of them, if you like."

"No, not quite all, Maryanne. Those moments in which I first declared what I felt for you can never be bygones for me. I have never faltered in my love; and now, if you choose to accept my hand in the presence of your father, there it is."

"G.o.d bless you, my boy! G.o.d bless you!" said Mr. Brown.

"Come, Maryanne," said Miss Twizzle, "he has spoke out now, quite manly; and you should give him an answer."

"But he is so imperious, Polly! If he only sees me speaking to another, in the way of civility--as, of course, I must,--he's up with his grand ways, and I'm put in such a trembling that I don't know how to open my mouth."

Of course, every one will know how the affair ended on that evening.

The quarrels of lovers have ever been the renewal of love. Miss Brown did accept Mr. Robinson's vows; Mr. Brown did go to sleep; Tom, whose salary was about to be raised to the matrimonial point, did arrive; and the evening was pa.s.sed in bliss and harmony.

Then, again, for a week or two did George Robinson walk upon roses.

It could not now be thrown in his teeth that some other suitor was an established tradesman; for such also was his proud position. He was one of that firm whose name was already being discussed in the commercial world, and could feel that the path to glory was open beneath his feet. It was during these days that those original ideas as to the name and colour of the house, and as to its architectural ornamentation, came from his brain, and that he penned many of those advertis.e.m.e.nts which afterwards made his reputation so great. It was then that he so plainly declared his resolve to have his own way in his own department, and startled his partners by the firmness of his purpose. It need hardly be said that gratified love was the source from whence he drew his inspiration.

"And now let us name the day," said Robinson, as soon as that other day,--the opening day for Magenta House,--had been settled. All nature would then be smiling. It would be the merry month of May; and Robinson suggested that, after the toil of the first fortnight of the opening, a day's holiday for matrimonial purposes might well be accorded to him. "We'll go to the bowers of Richmond, Maryanne," said he.

"G.o.d bless you, my children," said Mr. Brown. "And as for the holiday, Jones shall see the shutters down, and I will see them up again."

"What!" said Maryanne. "This next first of June as ever is? I'll do no such thing."

"Why not, my own one?"

"I never heard the like! Where am I to get my things? And you will have no house taken or anything. If you think I'm going into lodgings like Sarah Jane, you're mistook. I don't marry unless I have things comfortable about me,--furniture, and all that. While you were in your tantrums, George, I once went to see William Brisket's house."

"---- William Brisket!" said Robinson. Perhaps, he was wrong in using such a phrase, but it must be confessed that he was sorely tried. Who but a harpy would have alluded to the comforts of a rival's domestic establishment at such a moment as that? Maryanne Brown was a harpy, and is a harpy to this day.

"There, father," said she, "look at that! just listen to him! You wouldn't believe me before. What's a young woman to look for with a man as can go on like that?--cursing and swearing before one's face,--quite awful!"

"He was aggravated, Maryanne," said the old man.

"Yes, and he'll always be being aggravated. If he thinks as I ain't going to speak civil of them as has always spoke civil to me, he's in the wrong of it. William Brisket never went about cursing at me in that way."

"I didn't curse at you, Maryanne."

"If William Brisket had anything to say of a rival, he said it out honest. 'Maryanne,' said he to me once, 'if that young man comes after you any more, I'll polish his head off his shoulders.' Now, that was speaking manly; and, if you could behave like that, you'd get yourself respected. But as for them rampagious Billingsgate ways before a lady, I for one haven't been used to it, and I won't put up with it!" And so she bounced out of the room.

"You shouldn't have swore at her, George," said Mr. Brown.

"Swear at her!" said Robinson, putting his hand up to his head, as though he found it almost impossible to collect his scattered thoughts. "But it doesn't matter. The world may swear at her for me now; and the world will swear at her!" So saying, he left the house, went hastily down Snow Hill, and again walked moodily on the bridge of Blackfriars. "'Tis a consummation devoutly to be wished," said he: "--devoutly!--devoutly! And when they take me up,--up to her, would it be loving, or would it be loathing?--A nasty, cold, moist, unpleasant body!" he went on. "Ah me! it would be loathing! He hadn't a father; he hadn't a mother; he hadn't a sister; he hadn't a brother;--but he had a dearer one still, and a nearer one yet, than all other.--'To be or not to be; that is the question.'--He must in ground unsanctified be lodged, till the last trumpet! Ah, there's the rub! But for that, who would these fardels bear?" Then he made up his mind that the fardels must still be borne, and again went home to his lodgings.

This had occurred some little time before the opening of the house, and on the next morning George Robinson was at his work as hard,--ay, harder--than ever. He had pledged himself to the firm, and was aware that it would ill become him to allow private sorrows to interfere with public duties. On that morrow he was more enterprising than ever, and it was then that he originated the idea of the four men in armour, and of Fame with her cla.s.sical horn and gilded car.

"She'll come round again, George," said Mr. Brown, "and then take her at the hop."

"She'll hop no more for me," said George Robinson, sternly. But on this matter he was weak as water, and this woman was able to turn him round her little finger.

On the fourteenth of May, the day previous to the opening of the house, Robinson was seated upstairs alone, still at work on some of his large posters. There was no sound to be heard but the hammers of the workmen below; and the smell of the magenta paint, as it dried, was strong in his nostrils. It was then that one of the workmen came up to him, saying that there was a gentleman below who wished to see him. At this period Robinson was anxious to be called on by commercial gentlemen, and at once sent down civil word, begging that the gentleman would walk up. With heavy step the gentleman did walk up, and William Brisket was shown into the room.

"Sir," said George Robinson as soon as he saw him, "I did not expect this honour from you." And then he bethought himself of his desire to tear out the monster's tongue, and began to consider whether he might do it now.

"I don't know much about honour," said Brisket; "but it seems to me an understandin's wanted 'twixt you and I."

"There can be none such," said Robinson.