CHAPTER XVII.
_How Dawson for Moll's good parts company with us, and goes away alonely man._
On the eve of Michaelmas day old Simon returned from London, whither hehad gone two days before, to raise the money he had promised; andcalling upon him in the afternoon I found him seated at his table, witha most woe-begone look in his face, and his eyes streaming morecopiously than usual. And with most abject humility he told me thatdoing the utmost that lay in his power, he had not been able to persuadehis goldsmith to lend more than ten thousand pounds on the title deeds.Nor had he got that, he declared, but that the goldsmith knew him for anhonest and trustworthy man whom he would credit beyond any other in theworld; for the seal not yet being given to Judith Godwin's succession,there was always peril of dispute and lawsuits which might make thesepapers of no value at all (the king's ministers vying one with anotherto please their master by bringing money rightly or wrongly into thetreasury), and this, indeed, may have been true enough.
"But," says he, "all will go well if thee wilt have but a littlepatience for a while. To-morrow my rents will come in, and I will exactto the last farthing; and there is a parcel of land I may sell, mayhap,for instant payment, though 'twill be at a fearsome loss" (mopping hiseyes), "yet I will do it rather than put thee to greater incommodity;and so, ere the end of the week, thee mayst safely count on having yetanother three thousand, which together makes nigh upon half the sumpromised. And this, dear good friend," adds he, slyly, "thee mayst welltake on account of thine own share,--and none dispute thy right, for'tis thy money hath done all. And from what I see of him, smoking ofpipes in the public way and drinking with any low fellows in alehouses,this Captain Evans is but a paltry, mean man who may be easily put offwith a pound or two to squander in his pleasures; and as for the Spanishgrandee, he do seem so content to be with our mistress that I doubt heneeds no pretext for quitting her, added to which, being of a haughty,proud nature, he should scorn to claim his own, to the prejudice of amerchant who hath nought but his capital to live upon. And I do implorethee, good friend, to lay this matter before my mistress in such a waythat she may not be wroth with me."
I told him I would do all he could expect of me in reason, but bade himunderstand that his chance of forgiveness for having broke his firstengagement depended greatly upon his exactitude in keeping the second,and that he might count on little mercy from us if the other threethousand were not forthcoming as he promised. So I took the money andgave him a quittance for it, signing it with my false name, JamesHopkins, but, reflecting on this when I left him, I wished I had not.For I clearly perceived that by this forgery I laid myself open to verygrievous consequences; moreover, taking of this solid money, disguise ithow I would, appeared to me nothing short of downright robbery, be itwhose it might. In short, being now plunged up to my neck in thisbusiness, I felt like a foolish lad who hath waded beyond his depth in arapid current, hoping I might somehow get out of it safely, but withvery little expectation. However, the sight of all this gold told up inscores upon the table in our closed room served to quiet these qualmsconsiderably. Nevertheless, I was not displeased to remember our bargainwith Don Sanchez, feeling that I should breathe more freely when he hadtaken this store of gold out of my hands, etc. Thus did my mind waverthis way and that, like a weather-cock to the blowing of contrary winds.
'Twas this day that Moll (as I have said) dressed herself in her Moorishclothes for the entertainment of her new friends, and Dawson, hearingher voice, yet not daring to go into the state room where she was, mustneeds linger on the stairs listening to her song, and craning his neckto catch a glimpse of her through the open door below. Here he stands ina sort of ravishment, sucking in her sweet voice, and the sounds ofdelight with which her guests paid tribute to her performance, feedinghis passion which, like some fire, grew more fierce by feeding, till hewas well-nigh beside himself. Presently, out comes Moll from her stateroom, all glowing with exercise, flushed with pleasure, a rich colour inher cheek, and wild fire in her eyes, looking more witching than anysiren. Swiftly she crosses the hall, and runs up the stairs to gain herchamber and reclothe herself, but half way up Dawson stops her, andclasping her about, cries hoarsely in a transport:
"Thou art my own Moll--my own sweet Moll!" adding, as she would breakfrom him to go her way, "Nay, chick. You shall not go till you havebussed your old dad."
Then she, hesitating a moment betwixt prudence and her warmer feelings,suddenly yields to the impulse of her heart (her head also being turnedmaybe with success and delight), and flinging her arms about his neckgives him a hearty kiss, and then bursts away with a light laugh.
Jack watches her out of sight, and then, when the moment of escape ispast, he looks below to see if there be any danger, and there he spiesDon Sanchez, regarding him from the open door, where he stands, as if toguard it. Without a sign the Don turns on his heel and goes back intothe room, while Dawson, with a miserable hangdog look, comes to me in mychamber, where I am counting the gold, and confesses his folly with ashamed face, cursing himself freely for his indiscretion, which at thisrate must ruin all ere long.
This was no great surprise to me, for I myself had seen him many a timeclip his dear daughter's hand, when he thought no one was by, and, morethan once, the name of Moll had slipped out when he should have spokenof Mistress Judith.
These accidents threw us both into a very grave humour, and especially Iwas tormented with the reflection that a forgery could be proved againstme, if things came to the worst. The danger thereof was not slight; forthough all in the house loved Moll dearly and would willingly do her nohurt, yet the servants, should they notice how Mistress Judith stoodwith Captain Evans, must needs be prating, and there a mischief wouldbegin, to end only the Lord knows where! Thereupon, I thought it as wellto preach Jack a sermon, and caution him to greater prudence; and thishe took in amazing good part--not bidding me tend my own business as hemight at another time, but assenting very submissively to all my hintsof disaster, and thanking me in the end for speaking my mind so freely.Then, seeing him so sadly downcast, I (to give a sweetmeat after abitter draught) bade him take the matter not too much to heart,promising that, with a little practice, he would soon acquire a habit ofself-restraint, and so all would go well. But he made no response, saveby shaking of his head sorrowfully, and would not be comforted. When allwere abed that night, we three men met in my chamber, where I had setthe bags of money on the table, together with a dish of tobacco and abottle of wine for our refreshment, and then the Don, having lit him acigarro, and we our pipes, with full glasses beside us, I proposed weshould talk of our affairs, to which Don Sanchez consented with a solemninclination of his head. But ere I began, I observed with a pang offoreboding, that Jack, who usually had emptied his glass ere others hadsipped theirs, did now leave his untouched, and after the first pull ortwo at his pipe, he cast it on the hearth as though it were foul to histaste. Taking no open notice of this, I showed Don Sanchez the gold, andrelated all that had passed between Simon and me.
"Happily, Senor," says I, in conclusion, "here is just the sum yougenerously offered to accept for your share, and we give it you with afree heart, Evans and I being willing to wait for what may beforthcoming."
"Is it your wish both, that I take this?" says he, laying his hand onthe money and looking from me to Dawson.
"Aye," says he, "'tis but a tithe of what is left to us, and not anhundredth part of what we owe to you."
"Very good," says the Don. "I will carry it to London to-morrow."
"But surely, Senor," says I, "you will not quit us so soon."
Don Sanchez rolls his cigarro in his lips, looking me straight in theface and somewhat sternly, and asks me quietly if I have ever found himlacking in loyalty and friendship.
"In truth, never, Senor."
"Then why should you imagine I mean to quit you now when you have moreneed of a friend in this house" (with a sideward glance as towardsMoll's chamber) "than ever you before had?" Then, turning towards Jac
k,he says, "What are you going to do, Captain Evans?"
Dawson pauses, as if to snatch one last moment for consideration, andthen, nodding at me, "You'll not leave my--Moll, Kit?" says he, with noattempt to disguise names.
"Why should I leave her; are we not as brothers, you and I?"
"Aye, I'd trust you with my life," answers he, "and more than that, withmy--Moll! If you were her uncle, she couldn't love you more, Kit. Andyou will stand by her, too, Senor?"
The Don bowed his head.
"Then when you leave, to-morrow, I'll go with you to London," says Jack.
"I shall return the next day," says Don Sanchez, with significance.
"And I shall not, God help me!" says Jack, bitterly.
"Give me your hand," says the Don; but I could speak never a word, andsat staring at Jack, in a maze.
"We'll say nought of this to her," continues Jack; "there must be nofarewells, I could never endure that. But it shall seem that I have gonewith you for company, and have fallen in with old comrades who wouldkeep me for a carousing."
"But without friends--alone--what shall you do there in London?" says I,heart-stricken at the thought of his desolation. The Don answers forJack.
"Make the best of his lot with a stout heart, like any other brave man,"says he. "There are natural hardships which every man must bear in histime, and this is one of them." Then lowering his voice, he adds,"Unless you would have her die an old maid, she and her father must partsooner or later."
"Why, that's true, and yet, Master," says Jack, "I would have you knowthat I'm not so brave but I would see her now and then."
"That may be ordered readily enough," says the Don.
"Then do you tell her, Senor, I have but gone a-junketing, and she maylook to see me again when my frolic's over."
The Don closed his eyes as one in dubitation, and then says, lifting hiseyebrows: "She is a clever woman--shrewd beyond any I have ever known;then why treat her as you would a foolish child? You must let me tellher the truth when I come back, and I warrant it will not break herheart, much as she loves you."
"As you will," says t'other. "'Twill be all as one to me," with a sigh.
"This falls out well in all ways," continues the Don, turning to me."You will tell Simon, whose suspicion we have most to fear, that we havehanded over four thousand of those pieces to Captain Evans as being mostin need, we ourselves choosing to stay here till the rest of our claimis paid. That will account for Evans going away, and give us a pretextfor staying here."
"I'll visit him myself, if you will," says Jack, "and wring his hand toshow my gratitude. I warrant I'll make him wince, such a grip will Igive him. And I'll talk of nothing else but seas and winds, and themanner of ship I'll have for his money."
The following morning before Moll was stirring, Don Sanchez and Dawsonset forth on their journey, and I going with them beyond the park gatesto the bend of the road, we took leave of each other with a great showof cheerfulness on both sides. But Lord! my heart lay in my breast likeany lump of lead, and when Jack turned his back on me, the tears sprangup in my eyes as though indeed this was my brother and I was never tosee him more. And long after he was out of sight I sat on the bank bythe roadside, sick with pain to think of his sorrow in going forth likethis, without one last loving word of parting from his dear Moll, tofind no home in London, no friend to cheer him, and he the mostcompanionable man in the world.