Matrimonial Speculations

Chapter I

A BEGINNING OF SOME SORT— GOOD NEWS. "Hark, girls! there's the postman's horn!" cried Mrs. Harford, rising from the breakfast-table, and hurrying to the window. " Run to the garden-gate, Rosamond, and see if he brings us a letter from your brother." Away flew Rosamond, knocking over the music stool in her speed, whilst her widowed mother watched her movements from the open window in breathless agitation. The hand was held up — the letter received ; and Mrs. Harford sank down in her chair with an air of deep disappointment, when, instead of returning with the same haste, Rosamond stepped behind a clump of shrubs, in front of the window, and opened the letter. " Provoking," muttered Caroline Harford, stoop ing down and raising up the insulted music-stool, in order to conceal her chagrin. " The letter is from one of Rosamond's numerous correspondents.

Surely letter-writing is the vice of some young people. I wish, mamma, that you would put a stop to Rosa mond's expensive propensities." B2 " I have often spoken to her about it, Caroline ; hut Rose is such an impetuous, irritable creature, that my lectures produced anything but a beneficial effect. She loves letter-writing. She excels in it. Her friends delight in her correspondence, and if I put a stop to it she will practise it in secret. No, no, let her alone ; it is a rational and innocent amuse ment. Her friends are well known to us ; I am sure we have nothing to fear." " The expense — think of that, mamma, in our circumstances. Besides encouraging an idle gossiping habit. Rosamond has no prudence. This is a dangerous method she has of promulgating her opinions of others, to persons, of whose private characters she knows little ; and in whom, unfortunately, she re poses the most unlimited confidence.

Have you forgotten the picture she drew of Uncle Beaumont, and his stingy housekeeper, to Rachel Dale?" "It was a capital portrait," said Mrs. Harford, laughing. " Mamma, I wonder at you ; it was so true to the life, that Rachel must read it as a capital joke to her aunt Martha, who wished to gain the good graces of the rector, and she repeated it to the old man — and you know the result. He has looked upon us as aliens ever since. This comes of suffering a young girl, like Rosamond, to indulge in scribbling letters." " It was a pity, Caroline, but cannot be helped now. You have told me of this a thousand times, and scolded poor Rose about it so often, that she is quite hardened in her fault. But see, something in her letter pleases her. She looks up with a smiling face, and comes running towards us.

"Well, Rosy ! what news?" " Good, good ! joyful news ! 'Tis from clear George. WAITING POR DEAD MEN'S SHOES. 5 Read it, mamma — read it, Caroline. It was so kind of him to write to me, that I might be the communi cator of that, which he knew would give us all so much pleasure." And the giddy girl put the letter into her mother's hands, with glowing cheeks and eyes sparkling with gladness. Then anticipating the contents, she ran on — " He is not going to India. He has been dangerously ill, and is permitted to retire upon half-pay. He writes from London, and will be with us to-night, or to-morrow morning, at farthest." " This is indeed good news. Thank God, I shall see my dear boy again." "Oh, we shall be so happy!" cried the volatile Rose. " We shall be able to take such nice walks, and make such delightful picnic parties to the sea-shore.

I will go ancl put his chamber in order, and make everything neat and comfortable." " I hope you will finish pouring out the tea first," said Caroline, drily. " You and my mother seem to forget, in your selfish excess of joy, that this returning upon half-pay, will put a stop to my brother's promotion." " And you would have him go to the East Indies?" exclaimed the mother and youngest daughter, in a breath. " Yes, certainly, it is the surest road to wealth and preferment." "And we should never see him again?" " That does not follow. Ten years are soon passed." " Caroline, Avho is selfish now ? — we should be old women; perhaps old maids, before he came back, and dear mamma in her grave." " Very likely; but if it is my brother's welfare you seek, all these circumstances would be of minor con sideration."

"Well, you are a strange girl, Caroline." " And you a very inconsistent, thoughtless one, Rosamond. But I would thank you to hand me my tea, which by this time must be nearly cold." " Dear me 1 how cross you are, Caroline," said Rose, pushing the cup across the table : " I forgot every thing in the joy of my dear brother's return. I hate your cold, phlegmatic people, who receive good and bad news with the same philosophical indifference. You always throw cold water upon everything which gives me pleasure." " I say less, Rosamond, but perhaps feel more." " Have done with this unpleasant bickering, girls," said Mrs. Harford, giving the letter she had just finished reading to Caroline. " It is strange that you two can never agree." Poor Rosamond, under the excitement, did and said a thousand extravagant things.

She emptied half the contents of the cream-jug into Mrs. Harford's cup, who took no milk in her tea; and put three lumps of sugar into her sister's cup who made a merit of drinking hers without ; and dropped some scalding water out of the tea-kettle upon her favourite lap dog's tail. Dire were the yells of the injured Crusty; severe the reproval of the prudent Caroline, and loud the laughter of the presiding genius of the tea-table ; and, in the midst of this confusion, I will endeavour to give my readers a more definite account of the parties thus abruptly introduced to their notice. Mrs. Harford was the widow of a captain in the army. Captain Harford belonged to a good famUy, but unfortunately was the youngest son of a numerous progeny. Fortune he had none, beyond what he de rived from his profession.

He married early in life, a pretty accomplished girl, exactly circumstanced hke WAITING FOR DEAD MEN'S SHOES. 7 himself. They possessed a great deal of love for each other, but very scanty means to render themselves comfortable, and maintain a respectable appearance in the world. Three children were the fruit of this union. Captain Harford was killed in the memorable battle of Waterloo, and his widow retired, with her small young family, to a little village on the coast, with no other income than the pension she derived from the untimely death of the man she loved. Here, with the assistance of a rich uncle of Mrs. Harford's, a doctor of Divinity and rector of the parish, she educated her son and two young daughters ; depriv ing herself of every luxury, in order to give them the fashionable accomplishments of the day.

When George quitted school, the old man pre sented him with a commission in the army ; and, to the great regret of his mother and sisters, the regi ment to which he was attached, was ordered to the West Indies. There he remained several years, duly keeping up a formal correspondence with his great uncle and benefactor ; and on his return to England, had paid him as much attention as he could consist ently, without compromising his independence or degenerating; into a sneak. The old man was proud of his nephew, and, left to himself would have felt no hesitation in making him his heir ; but he had two great faults — he was very susceptible of ridicule, and a slave to his appe tite. A good dinner to him was the greatest of all terrestrial enjoyments. The dainties to be provided for his table engaged his first and last waking thoughts; and even whilst reclining in his easy chair, after having eaten more than prudence war ranted, in oi*der to doze away the inconvenient oppression of head and stomach occasioned by repletion, his very dreams transported him to markets well stocked with fish, flesh, and fowl, so that, whether sleeping or waking, his mind was occupied with this one engrossing subject.

" Eating," he had been known to say, " was the greatest of all human enjoyments, seeing that it could be renewed the oftenest, and continued the longest." Alas for man's fallen nature ! Could it experience a greater degradation than this ? Pity, that while the march of improvement is o-oing on at such a rate in the world, there are no Anti-Gluttony Societies ! The man that maddens himself with drink is not more disgusting in the mode which he takes to follow out his animal pro pensities, than the monster of obesity that darkens his intellect, and sinks into a stupid state of idiocy, from constant repletion. Unfortunately for such men, all their dependent relations, in hopes of winning their favour, help to pander to their vices ; and presents of dainties flow in from all quarters. Even George Harford had not been above practising this stale policy.

He had brought his uncle, as a present, a splendid turtle from the fragrant islands of the West ; and the old epicure long retained a grateful recollection of this welcome offering. " It was good, decidedly good," he would exclaim, rubbing his hands emphatically together. " And it was very considerate of George to remember his uncle's taste. He could not forget it ; nay, he did not mean to forget it, he could assure him." George Harford remained but a few weeks at his mother's residence, when his regiment was ordered to Ireland, and shortly after to the East Indies. Since this last order, Mrs. Harford had received WAITING EOR DEAD MEN'S SHOES. 9 no letter from her son, although more than a month had elapsed since he had made this unwelcome com munication; ancl she supposed that he had already sailed, and had deferred writing to his sorrowing friends, until the certainty of their long, and per haps eternal separation, had been fixed beyond a doubt.

The joy that the receipt of his letter gave to all but Caroline, (who thought that it would have been more for her brother's interest to proceed to India,) may easily be imagined. Mrs. Harford ancl Rosamond could talk of nothing but Lieutenant Harford's return; and before the sun went down that evening, the whole village was acquainted with the fact. " I wonder what George will think of the coolness which has taken place between Uncle Beaumont and us, in consequence of Rosamond's foolish letter," said Caroline. "Pray don't tell him," said Rose, colouring up. " He must know it. It was a foolish business. I wonder that you had not more sense. It will en tirely put a stop to poor George and Ellen's marriage ; for you know, that unless uncle left us his property, it would be impossible for my brother to take a wife."

" I did not think of all this," said, the penitent Rose ; " I only meant to make Rachel laugh, and she must go and show it to that ugly, ill-natured old maid, Martha Sadler. I have a great mind to go and beg uncle's pardon ; and entreat him not to lay the blame of my misconduct upon the rest of the family." " You would only make bad worse ; and Mrs. Orams, whose character you sketched so admirably, b3 would be sure to place your submission in the most unfavourable light." " Ah, but I would take that fine kit of oysters that Ellen sent us this morning ; surely, if he would not listen to me, the oysters would be irresistible." " They would open tlieir mouths to no purpose, Rose. Mrs. Oram's star is in the ascendant ; and all your explanations, apologies, and regrets, would be in vain. I should not wonder if the Doctor was to marry her out of spite."

" Impossible !" exclaimed both ladies in a breath ; " Caroline, you say these provoking things on purpose to vex us." " We shall see," said Caroline, thoughtfully. " He is too proud to act so foolishly," said Rose. " A confirmed old bachelor," said her mother. " A superannuated gourmand," replied Caroline, " with whom all absurd things are possible ; wdiose god is his belly, and Mrs. Orams his officiating priestess. The thing appears to me as clear as daylight." "But do you really think, Caroline, that uncle will never forgive me, for writing that foolish letter?" " Has he admitted you into his august presence since ? " True ; but he has had the gout, and he never sees any one during those fits." "Depend upon it, Rose, that he has not only shut his door against us, but has added a new codicil to his will.

I don't know what effect my brother's return may have upon him. But, at any rate, you have marred your own fortune." "I don't care for myself," said Rose, sullenly; " I can live without his money." " More comfortably with it, I should think, seeing that you are not likely to have any of your own." " But I may marry a rich husband," said Rose, glancing with peculiar satisfaction at her own lovely person in the mirror. " More likely to do that with uncle's fat legacy, than without it. There are plenty of pretty girls single now-a-days," sighed the provoking Carohne ; who, very pretty herself, had never up to this moment received an offer of marriage. " Rose, Rose, yours is a desperate case ! " " I don't care," said Rose, bursting into tears ; and so the conversation ended.

Chapter II. Of All Fools Old Fools Are The Worst

"So my nephew's returned?" said Dr. Beaumont, taking off his spectacles, ancl laying down the book he had been reading. " What will he do at home ?" This remark was addressed, as most of his remarks were, to a stout, rosy, matronly-looking woman of fifty, who was seated upon the opposite side of the table, knitting, who acted in the double capacity of companion and housekeeper to the reverend gentle man. " Humph ! " responded Mrs. Orams, without raising her eyes from her work ; " Do ? — he wiU do what most young people do in his circumstances ; cut a clash as long as his money lasts, and when it is all gone, depend upon his wealthy relations to pay his debts." " He is an extravagant dog, but I cannot think so harshly of poor George. No, no, Mary Orams, the half-pay of a lieutenant in the army is but a trifle — a mere trifle — I must allow him something yearly to keep up his place in society."

This was said in a hesitating under-tone, and with a timid glance at the housekeeper, whose countenance, now pale, now red, betrayed considerable agitation. " Oh ! your Reverence may do as you please with your money ; but I am sure, if I were in your place, 1 would never deprive myself of my little comforts to encourage a young man in his idle, expensive habits, particularly after the shameful treatment I had received from his family." " Phoo ! nonsense ! the poor lad had nothing to do with that ; it was only that pert minx, Rose — a school-girl's trick. I am ashamed of having shown so much resentment about it. I believe the other members of the familv were ignorant of the whole affair." " Very likely that," returned Mrs. Orams ; " the poor ignorant creatures! they never called your Reverence, old fiddle-D.-D. and ridiculed you for your portly appearance, and love of the creature comforts, as Miss Rosamond was pleased to term good mutton and beef.

And then, as to poor me — but that's of no consequence. I am but a poor faithful servant, and this little boarding-school Miss may abuse me as she likes. It is hardly likely that my master would take my part." " It was too bad, Mrs. Orams, too bad," said the good Doctor, shaking his head ; "but what has George to do with all this ? If I withdraw my support from the poor lad, what will become of him ? " " If his half-pay is not enough to support him, let him do as many better men have clone before him — enter the Spanish service. This is what my own brother's son did last year, and that 's how I come to know about it." "It's a hard alternative," said the compassionate and doubting Doctor. " Not at all, sir," returned the crafty Mrs. Orams ; " he is a fine young man, let him try his fortune in matrimony, and look out for a rich wife."

" Nonsense ! " muttered the Doctor, whilst a frown drew his bushy eyebrows so closely together, that they formed a shaggy line across his wrinkled forehead. " The boy would never be so absurd ; in his circumstances, 'twould be madness ! Pshaw 1 he is too sensible to think of such a thing." " But young people will think of such things," said Mrs. Orams, frowning in her turn ; for well she knew the Doctor's aversion to matrimony. " And old people, too," said the Doctor, with a bitter smile, " in which they show their lack of wisdom." " Lord bless us ! sir, I hope you don't mean to turn us all into monks and nuns. If you mean me, by people, I can tell you, that I am not an old woman. I have a young notion yet, and it's my own fault that I am single. The foolish respect that I retain for your Reverence," she added, adroitly applying her handkerchief to her eyes, "has kept away many suitors.

Since I have been in this house, I have rejected no less than seven good offers. But, Mary Orams, says I, it is better for you to remain single, and enjoy the company and conversation of a clever man, ancl contribute to his domestic comfort, than have a house of your own." " You wTere a wise woman, Mary Orams," said the Doctor, greatly softened by this piece of well-directed flattery, " and I am not ungrateful for your kindness, as time will show," and he nodded significantly. " A married life, Mrs. Orams, has many cares. We are free from them. Our rest is unbroken by squalling chUdren and nocturnal lectures. You may bless God that you are what you are." " Indeed, Doctor Beaumont," said Mary, in a sulky tone, "I never trouble the Almighty with blessing him for such small mercies ; and since you are on the subject of matrimony, I think it but rio-ht to inform you, that I have received an offer of mar riage just now; and, to convince you that I am neither old, ugly, nor despised, I think I shall ac cept it."

"What do you mean, Mrs. Orams?" said the astonished old bachelor, sinking back in his easy chair, and staring the housekeeper full in the face. " I mean what I say — to marry." " You are not in earnest?" " Never was more so, in my life." " A woman of your years, Mrs. Orams ? " Pray, sir, do not mention my years." " Oh, I forgot — 'tis a tender subject. But what in the world can induce you to marry?" " I wish to change my condition — that's all." " Are you not comfortable here?" " Wliy — yes — tolerably comfortable. But one gets tired of the same thing for ever. You remember the story you told me of the Bishop and the Par tridge, when I gave you turkey for dinner two days running. I am something like the bishop, I want change. Besides, I don't want to be despised." " Despised! Who despises you?"

" Your niece, and her daughters !" " That foolish story again?" " Oh, you may think lightly of such things, your Reverence, but I do not ; I can see as far into a miU stone as another. The whole family is jealous of me. Yes, jealous ofthe good opinion your Reverence entertains for his poor servant. There is not one of them who will speak a civil word to me; and this fine Mr. George, that you are so fond of, the last time he was at home, had the impudence to call me a Toady to my face ! Yes, me — a respectable decent woman, like me ! He might as well have called me a bad woman at once ! I have been insulted ancl ill treated by the whole family; and rather than he thought to stand in tlieir way — which your Reverence well knows, is not the case,"— here Mrs. Orams cast a shrewd glance at the alarmed old man, to see what effect her long harangue had produced upon him, — " I will marry, and leave you ; and then, you know, sir, I shall no longer be a servant, but have a house of my own."

" And who is to be your husband?" " A man as well off as your Reverence," said Mary, simpering and looking down into her capacious lap, " and a great many years younger, — Mr. Archer, Squire Talbot's steward. He sits in the front pew, just fronting the pulpit." " I know the man." " I am sure your Reverence can have no objection to the match. Archer's a regular church-goer ; ancl never falls asleep in the midst of your sermons, as the rest of the farmers do. 'Tis true, that although at least ten years younger than your Reverence, he is an old man ; but what of that ? Who can attend so well to an old man's comforts, as his wife ? What hireling can take such an interest in his welfare — in his domestic comforts ? Grey hairs are honourable, and he has plenty of money to buy a wig." Doctor Beaumont groaned aloud during Mary's eloquent description of the advantages to be derived from the Archer connexion, which in fact were all imaginary ; for the man had never spoken ten words to her in his life; and he stopped the torrent of loquacity, by exclaiming, in mournful tones, — "What am I to do, when you are gone, Mrs. Orams?" for he perceived, with no small degree of alarm, that the affair was likely to prove more serious than he had at first imagined.

" Do, sir ? Oh ! la, there's plenty to be had in my place." " Ah, Mrs. Orams, for the last twenty years I have depended solely upon you, for aU my little comforts — " " Dear, dear, surely 'tis not more than ten?" " Twenty, Mrs. Orams, twenty long years you have been the mistress of this house. What can you desire more ? Nothing has been withheld from you ; your salary is ample ; but if you think it less than your services merit, I will make an addition of ten pounds per annum. I will do anything — make any sacrifice, however painful to my feelings, rather than part from you. Name your own terms." Mrs. Orams leaned her head sentimentally upon her fat red hand, and affected an air of deep com miseration. " I see, the idea of leaving me distresses you?" " True, sir," whined forth Mrs. Orams ; " but I cannot lose such an exceUent opportunity of better ing my condition."

"But who will cook for me?" exclaimed the Doctor, in an agony of despair. " Money will procure good cooks," said the in exorable housekeeper. " And nurse me, when I have the gout ?" " Money will buy attendance." "It is but a joke!" cried the old bachelor, bright ening up. " The thing is impossible ; you cannot have the heart to leave me." " Bless me, Doctor Beaumont!" said Mary, bustling from her seat ; " I am tired of leading a lonely life. Mr. Archer has offered me a comfortable home, and I see no prospect of a better. To-morrow, if you please, we will settle our accounts." She sailed out of the room, and the old man sank back in his chair and fell into a profound reverie. For twenty years Mrs. Orams had humoured the Doctor, and treated him as a spoiled child, attended to all his whims, and pampered his appetite, in the hope of inducing him to repay her disinterested ser vices, by making her his wife.

But if the housekeeper was ambitious, the old parson was proud. He saw through her little manœuvres, and secretly laughed at them. The idea of making an uneducated woman, like Mary Orams, his wife, was too ridiculous ; and not wholly dead to affection, the indolent, self-indulgent divine, looked upon his widowed niece, her promising son and pretty daughters, as his suture heirs. These benevolent intentions had received a severe shock from the imprudent ridicule of the thoughtless Rosamond. The old Doctor, in order to give them a useful lesson for the future, had ordered the ser vants to deny him to their repeated calls. Mrs. Harford had felt offended in her turn ; and all intercourse had, for some weeks, ceased between the families. Their presence had always been a salutary re straint upon the encroachments of the avaricious housekeeper.

Her master was now left entirely to her mercy, and she determined to make one bold effort to secure the advantage she had gained. What weak mind can long struggle against the force of habit ? Step by step Mrs. Orams insinuated herself into her master's favour, and made herself so subservient to his comforts, that he felt wretched without her. Year after year, she had threatened to leave him, in the hope of drawing him into making her an offer of his hand. Matrimony was the Doctor's aversion. It was a dish in no way agreeable to his taste ; and year after year he increased her salary, to induce her to remain in his service. This only stimu lated her avarice to enlarge its sphere of action. He was rich, and old, and infirm, why might she not enjoy the whole of his fortune, as weU as a part ?

And she lost no opportunity of weakening the hold the Harfords had upon his heart. She hated them, for they were his natural heirs, were pretty, and genteel, and young, and disdained to flatter her in order to secure their uncle's property. The sudden return of Lieutenant Harford frightened her. He was, in spite of all her lies and mischief-making, a great favourite with the old man. Mary Orams knew this, and de termined to be beforehand with him ; and she was resolved to make one desperate effort upon the hand of the old man, and, in case of failure, to abandon his house and service for ever. Two hours had elapsed since she quitted the room; but the Doctor remained in the same attitude, — his head thrown back, and his hands folded over his portly stomach. At length, with a desperate effort, he leaned forward and rang the bell.

The footman answered the hasty summons. " Anything wanted, sir?" " Joseph, send up Mrs. Orams." A few minutes elapsed ; the Doctor thought them hours. The handle of the door slowly turned, and the comely person of Mrs. Orams projected itself into the room, her broad face flushed to a fiery red, with leaning over the kitchen fire. " Dinner will be ready, sir, in half an hour. If I leave the kitchen just now, that careless hussy, SaUy, will be sure to burn the meat." " Let it burn!" quoth the Doctor, with an air of ridiculous solemnity. Mrs. Orams looked hard at the Doctor ; she thought the learned gentleman had lost his senses. " La, sir, I hope your Reverence is not iU ?" " Not ill, Mrs. Orams, but only a little queerish. Sit down, I have something to say to you." " Surely he is not in his right senses," thought Mrs. Orams, as she took a seat.

The Doctor drew quite close up to her, and screwing his courage to the pinch, said, in a hurried tone — " You leave me to-morrow ? " " Yes, sir." " And you wish to be married ? " " Yes, sir." " Have you any objections to marry me?" " Oh la, sir ! not in the least," replied the de lighted housekeeper, rising, and making a low curtsey. " Then I will marry you myself, Mary ; for, to tell you the plain truth, I cannot live without you. Now, go and send up the dinner." Mrs. Orams curtsied stiU lower, and with eyes sparkling with triumph, left the room in compliance with her future lord's command, without utterino a word. What would the Harfords say to this ? — avarice, revenge, and pride, were alike gratified.

Chapter III. Moke Matrimonial Speculations

" You have grown very sentimental of late, Edward. Now do be honest for once in your life, and confess that you are reaUy in love," said Clement Cotterel to his young friend Edward Freeburn, as they sat chatting over their own affairs, in Mr. Burnham's office (who happened to be the only lawyer in C ,) instead of attending to their master's business. " In love with whom, I should like to know ?" returned the other idler, cutting to pieces a new pen he had just finished mending. " Let me tell you, Clem, there are few girls in this town on whom I would bestow a second thought." " Now, don't attempt to deny the fact, nor lay such a stress upon the personal pronoun ; it looks egotistical, Ned. I heard last night, from Frank Townsend, that you are acually engaged to pretty- Rosamond Harford, and, by Jove !