CHAPTER III.
“NOW,” continued Mrs. Theresa, turning to Frederick, as soon as theservant had left the room, “now, Mr. Frederick Montague, I have afavour—such a favour—to ask of you; it’s a favour which only you cangrant; you have such talents, and would do the thing so admirably; and myLady Battersby would quite adore you for it. She will do me the honourto be here to spend an evening to-morrow. I’m convinced Mr. and Mrs.Montague will find themselves obliged to stay out another day, and I solong to show you off to her ladyship; and your Doctor Carbuncle, and yourCounsellor Puff, and your Miss Croker, and all your charming characters.You must let me introduce you to her ladyship to-morrow evening. Promiseme.”
“Oh, ma’am,” said Frederick, “I cannot promise you any such thing,indeed. I am much obliged to you; but indeed I cannot come.”
“Why not, my dear sir? why not? You don’t think I mean you shouldpromise, if you are certain your papa and mamma will be home.”
“If they do come home, I will ask them about it,” said Frederick,hesitating; for though he by no means wished to accept the invitation, hehad not yet acquired the necessary power of decidedly saying No.
“Ask them!” repeated Mrs. Theresa. “My dear sir, at your age, must youask your papa and mamma about such things?”
“Must! no, ma’am,” said Frederick; “but I said I would. I know I neednot, because my father and mother always let me judge for myself almostabout everything.”
“And about this, I am sure,” cried Marianne. “Papa and mamma, you know,just as they were going away, said, ‘If Mrs. Theresa asks you to come, doas you think best.’”
“Well, then,” said Mrs. Theresa, “you know it rests with yourselves, ifyou may do as you please.”
“To be sure I may, madam,” said Frederick, colouring from that species ofemotion which is justly called false shame, and which often conquers realshame; “to be sure, ma’am, I may do as I please.”
“Then I may make sure of you,” said Mrs. Theresa; “for now it would bedownright rudeness to tell a lady you won’t do as she pleases. Mr.Frederick Montague, I’m sure, is too wellbred a young gentleman to do sounpolite, so ungallant a thing!”
The jargon of politeness and gallantry is frequently brought by the sillyacquaintance of young people to confuse their simple morality and cleargood sense. A new and unintelligible system is presented to them, in alanguage foreign to their understanding, and contradictory to theirfeelings. They hesitate between new motives and old principles. Fromthe fear of being thought ignorant, they become affected; and from thedread of being thought to be children act like fools. But all this theyfeel only when they are in the company of such people as Mrs. TheresaTattle.
“Ma’am,” Frederick began, “I don’t mean to be rude; but I hope you’llexcuse me from coming to drink tea with you to-morrow, because my fatherand mother are not acquainted with Lady Battersby, and maybe they mightnot like—”
“Take care, take care,” said Mrs. Theresa, laughing at his perplexity:“you want to get off from obliging me, and you don’t know how. You hadvery nearly made a most shocking blunder in putting it all upon poor LadyBattersby. Now you know it’s impossible that Mr. and Mrs. Montague couldhave in nature the slightest objection to introducing you to my LadyBattersby at my own house; for, don’t you know, that, besides herladyship’s many unquestionable qualities, which one need not talk of, sheis cousin, but once removed, to the Trotters of Lancashire—your mother’sgreat favourites? And there is not a person at the Wells, I’ll ventureto say, could be of more advantage to your sister Sophy, in the way ofpartners, when she comes to go the balls, which it’s to be supposed shewill, some time or other; and as you are so good a brother, that’s athing to be looked to, you know. Besides, as to yourself, there’snothing her ladyship delights in so much as in a good mimic; and she’llquite adore you!”
“But I don’t want her to adore me, ma’am,” said Frederick, bluntly; then,correcting himself, added, “I mean for being a mimic.”
“Why not, my love? Between friends, can there be any harm in showingone’s talents? You that have such talents to show. She’ll keep yoursecret, I’ll answer for her; and,” added she, “you needn’t be afraid ofher criticism; for, between you and me, she’s no great critic; so you’llcome. Well, thank you, that’s settled. How you have made me beg andpray! but you know your own value, I see; as you entertaining peoplealways do. One must ask a wit, like a fine singer, so often. Well, butnow for the favour I was going to ask you.”
Frederick looked surprised; for he thought that the favour of his companywas what she meant: but she explained herself farther.
“As to the old Quaker who lodges above, old Ephraim Eden—my LadyBattersby and I have so much diversion about him. He is the bestcharacter, the oddest creature! If you were but to see him come into therooms with those stiff skirts, or walking with his eternal sister Bertha,and his everlasting broad-brimmed hat! One knows him a mile off! Butthen his voice and way, and altogether, if one could get them to thelife, they’d be better than anything on the stage; better even thananything I’ve seen to-night; and I think you’d make a capital Quaker formy Lady Battersby; but then the thing is, one can never get to hear theold quiz talk. Now you, who have so much invention and cleverness—I haveno invention myself; but could you not hit upon some way of seeing him,so that you might get him by heart? I’m sure you, who are so quick,would only want to see him, and hear him, for half a minute, to be ableto take him off, so as to kill one with laughing. But I have noinvention.”
“Oh, as to the invention,” said Frederick, “I know an admirable way ofdoing the thing, if that is all; but then remember, I don’t say I will dothe thing, for I will not. But I know a way of getting up into his room,and seeing him, without his knowing me to be there.”
“Oh, tell it me, you charming, clever creature!”
“But, remember, I do not say I will do it.”
“Well, well, let us hear it; and you shall do as you please afterwards.Merciful goodness!” exclaimed Mrs. Tattle, “do my ears deceive me? Ideclare I looked round, and thought I heard the squeaking chimney-sweeperwas in the room!”
“So did I, Frederick, I declare,” cried Marianne, laughing, “I neverheard anything so like his voice in my life.”
Frederick imitated the squeaking voice of this chimney-sweeper to greatperfection.
“Now,” continued he, “this fellow is just my height. The old Quaker, ifmy face were blackened, and if I were to change clothes with thechimney-sweeper, I’ll answer for it, would never know me.”
“Oh, it’s an admirable invention! I give you infinite credit for it!”exclaimed Mrs. Theresa. “It shall, it must be done. I’ll ring, and havethe fellow up this minute.”
“Oh, no; do not ring,” said Frederick, stopping her hand, “I don’t meanto do it. You know you promised that I should do as I pleased. I onlytold you my invention.”
“Well, well; but only let me ring, and ask whether the chimney-sweepersare below. You shall do as you please afterwards.”
“Christopher, shut the door. Christopher,” said she to the servant whocame up when she rang, “pray are the sweeps gone yet?”
“No, ma’am.”
“But have they been up to old Eden yet?”
“Oh, no, ma’am; nor be not to go till the bell rings; for Miss Bertha,ma’am, was asleep a-lying down, and her brother wouldn’t have her wakenedon no account whatsomever. He came down hisself to the kitchen to thesweeps, though; but wouldn’t have, as I heard him say, his sister wakedfor no account. But Miss Bertha’s bell will ring when she wakens for thesweeps, ma’am. ’Twas she wanted to see the boy as her brother saved, andI suppose sent for him to give him something charitable, ma’am.”
“Well, never mind your suppositions,” said Mrs. Theresa; “run down thisvery minute to the little squeaking chimney-sweep, and send him up to me.Quick, but don’t let the other bear come up with him.”
C
hristopher, who had curiosity, as well as his mistress, when he returnedwith the chimney-sweeper, prolonged his own stay in the room by sweepingthe hearth, throwing down the tongs and shovel, and picking them upagain.
“That will do, Christopher! Christopher, that will do, I say,” Mrs.Theresa repeated in vain. She was obliged to say, “Christopher, you maygo,” before he would depart.
“Now,” said she to Frederick, “step in here to the next room with thiscandle, and you’ll be equipped in an instant. Only just change clotheswith the boy; only just let me see what a charming chimney-sweeper you’dmake. You shall do as you please afterwards.”
“Well, I’ll only change clothes with him, just to show you for oneminute.”
“But,” said Marianne to Mrs. Theresa whilst Frederick was changing hisclothes, “I think Frederick is right about—”
“About what, love?”
“I think he is in the right not to go up, though he can do it so easily,to see that gentleman; I mean on purpose to mimic and laugh at himafterwards. I don’t think that would be quite right.”
“Why, pray, Miss Marianne?”
“Why, because he is so good-natured to his sister. He would not let herbe wakened.”
“Dear, it’s easy to be good in such little things; and he won’t have longto be good to her neither; for I don’t think she will trouble him long inthis world, anyhow.”
“What do you mean?” said Marianne.
“That she’ll die, child.”
“Die! die with that beautiful colour in her cheeks! How sorry her poor,poor brother will be! But she will not die, I’m sure, for she walksabout and runs upstairs so lightly! Oh, you must be quite mistaken, Ihope.”
“If I’m mistaken, Dr. Panado Cardamum’s mistaken too, then, that’s mycomfort. He says, unless the waters work a miracle, she stands a badchance; and she won’t follow my advice, and consult the doctor for herhealth.”
“He would frighten her to death, perhaps,” said Marianne. “I hopeFrederick won’t go up to disturb her.”
“Lud, child, you are turned simpleton all of a sudden; how can yourbrother disturb her more than the real chimney-sweeper?”
“But I don’t think it’s right,” persisted Marianne, “and I shall tell himso.”
“Nay, Miss Marianne, I don’t commend you now. Young ladies should not beso forward to give opinions and advice to their elder brothers unasked;and I presume that Mr. Frederick and I must know what’s right as well asMiss Marianne. Hush! here he is. Oh, the capital figure!” cried Mrs.Theresa. “Bravo, bravo!” cried she, as Frederick entered in thechimney-sweeper’s dress; and as he spoke, saying, “I’m afraid, pleaseyour ladyship, to dirt your ladyship’s carpet,” she broke out intoimmoderate raptures, calling him “her charming chimney-sweeper!” andrepeating that she knew beforehand the character would do for him.
Mrs. Theresa instantly rang the bell, in spite of allexpostulation—ordered Christopher to send up the otherchimney-sweeper—triumphed in observing that Christopher did not knowFrederick when he came into the room; and offered to lay any wager thatthe other chimney-sweeper would mistake him for his companion. And so hedid; and when Frederick spoke, the voice was so very like, that it wasscarcely possible that he should have perceived the difference.
Marianne was diverted by this scene; but she started, when in the midstof it they heard a bell ring.
“That’s the lady’s bell, and we must go,” said the blunt chimney-sweeper.
“Go, then, about your business,” said Mrs. Theresa, “and here’s ashilling for you, to drink, my honest fellow. I did not know you were somuch bruised when I first saw you. I won’t detain you. Go,” said she,pushing Frederick towards the door. Marianne sprang forward to speak tohim; but Mrs. Theresa kept her off; and, though Frederick resisted, thelady shut the door upon him by superior force, and, having locked it,there was no retreat. Mrs. Tattle and Marianne waited impatiently forFrederick’s return.
“I hear them,” cried Marianne, “I hear them coming downstairs.” Theylistened again, and all was silent. At length they suddenly heard agreat noise of many steps in the hall.
“Merciful!” exclaimed Mrs. Theresa, “it must be your father and mothercome back.” Marianne ran to unlock the room door, and Mrs. Theresafollowed her into the hall. The hall was rather dark, but under the lampa crowd of people, all the servants in the house having gatheredtogether.
As Mrs. Theresa approached, the crowd opened in silence, and in the midstshe beheld Frederick, with blood streaming from his face. His head washeld by Christopher; and the chimney-sweeper was holding a basin for him.“Merciful! what will become of me?” exclaimed Mrs. Theresa. “Bleeding!he’ll bleed to death! Can nobody think of anything that will stop bloodin a minute? A key, a large key down his back—a key—has nobody a key?Mr. and Mrs. Montague will be here before he has done bleeding. A key!cobwebs! a puff ball! for mercy’s sake! Can nobody think of anything thatwill stop blood in a minute? Gracious me! he’ll bleed to death, Ibelieve.”
“He’ll bleed to death! Oh, my brother!” cried Marianne, catching hold ofthe words; and terrified, she ran upstairs, crying, “Sophy, oh, Sophy!come down this minute, or he’ll be dead! My brother’s bleeding to death!Sophy! Sophy! come down, or he’ll be dead!”
“Let go the basin, you,” said Christopher, pulling the basin out of thechimney-sweeper’s hand, who had all this time stood in silence; “you arenot fit to hold the basin for a gentleman.”
“Let him hold it,” said Frederick; “he did not mean to hurt me.”
“That’s more than he deserves. I’m certain sure he might have known wellenough it was Mr. Frederick all the time, and he’d no business to go tofight—such a one as he—with a gentleman.”
“I did not know he was a gentleman!” said the chimney-sweeper, “how couldI?”
“How could he, indeed!” said Frederick; “he shall hold the basin.”
“Gracious me! I’m glad to hear him speak like himself again, atanyrate,” cried Mrs. Theresa. “And here comes Miss Sophy, too.”
“Sophy!” cried Frederick. “Oh, Sophy, don’t you come—don’t look at me;you’ll despise me.”
“My brother! where? where?” said Sophy, looking, as she thought, at thetwo chimney-sweepers.
“It’s Frederick,” said Marianne: “that’s my brother.”
“Miss Sophy, don’t be alarmed,” Mrs. Theresa began; “but graciousgoodness! I wish Miss Bertha—”
At this instant a female figure in white appeared upon the stairs; shepassed swiftly on, whilst everyone gave way before her. “Oh, MissBertha!” cried Mrs. Theresa, catching hold of her gown to stop her, asshe came near Frederick. “Oh, Miss Eden, your beautiful India muslin!take care of the chimney sweeper, for heaven’s sake.” But she pressedforward.
“It’s my brother, will he die?” cried Marianne, throwing her arms roundher, and looking up as if to a being of a superior order. “Will he bleedto death?”
“No, my love!” answered a sweet voice: “do not frighten thyself.”
“I’ve done bleeding,” said Frederick.
“Dear me, Miss Marianne, if you would not make such a rout,” cried Mrs.Tattle. “Miss Bertha, it’s nothing but a frolic. You see Mr. FrederickMontague only in a masquerade dress. Nothing in the world but a frolic,ma’am. You see he’s stopped bleeding. I was frightened out of my witsat first. I thought it was his eye, but I see it’s only his nose. All’swell that ends well. Mr. Frederick, we’ll keep your counsel. Pray,ma’am, let us ask no questions; it’s only a boyish frolic. Come, Mr.Frederick, this way, into my room, and I’ll give you a towel and someclean water, and you can get rid of this masquerade dress. Make haste,for fear your father and mother should drop in upon us.”
“Do not be afraid of thy father and mother. They are surely thy bestfriends,” said a voice. It was the voice of an elderly gentleman, whonow stood behind Frederick.
“Oh, sir, oh, Mr. Eden,” said Fr
ederick, turning to him.
“Don’t betray me! for goodness’ sake!” whispered Mrs. Tattle, “saynothing about me.”
“I’m not thinking about you. Let me speak,” cried he, pushing away herhand, which stopped his mouth. “I shall say nothing about you, I promiseyou,” said Frederick, with a look of contempt.
“No, but for your own sake, my dear sir, your papa and mamma. Bless me!is not that Mrs. Montague’s carriage?”
“My brother, ma’am,” said Sophy, “is not afraid of my father and mother’scoming back. Let him speak; he was going to speak the truth.”
“To be sure, Miss Sophia, I wouldn’t hinder him from speaking the truth;but it’s not proper, I presume, ma’am, to speak truth at all times, andin all places, and before everybody, servants and all. I only wanted,ma’am, to hinder your brother from exposing himself. A hall, Iapprehend, is not a proper place for explanation.”
“Here,” said Mr. Eden, opening the door of his room, which was on theopposite side of the hall to Mrs. Tattle’s. “Here is a place,” said heto Frederick, “where thou mayst speak the truth at all times, and beforeeverybody.”
“Nay, my room’s at Mr. Frederick Montague’s service, and my door’s opentoo. This way, pray,” said she, pulling his arm. But Frederick brokefrom her, and followed Mr. Eden.
“Oh, sir, will you forgive me?” cried he.
“Forgive thee!—and what have I to forgive!”
“Forgive, brother, without asking what,” said Bertha, smiling.
“He shall know all!” cried Frederick; “all that concerns myself, I mean.Sir, I disguised myself in this dress; I came up to your room to-night onpurpose to see you, without your knowing it, that I might mimic you. Thechimney-sweeper, where is he?” said Frederick, looking round; and he raninto the hall to see for him. “May he come in? he may—he is a brave, anhonest, good, grateful boy. He never guessed who I was. After we leftyou we went down to the kitchen together, and there, fool as I was, forthe pleasure of making Mr. Christopher and the servants laugh, began tomimic you. This boy said he would not stand by and hear you laughed at;that you had saved his life; that I ought to be ashamed of myself; thatyou had just given me half a crown; and so you had; but I went on, andtold him I’d knock him down if he said another word. He did; I gave thefirst blow; we fought; I came to the ground; the servants pulled me upagain. They found out, I don’t know how, that I was not achimney-sweeper. The rest you saw. And now can you forgive me, sir?”said Frederick to Mr. Eden, seizing hold of his hand.
“The other hand, friend,” said the Quaker, gently withdrawing his righthand, which everybody now observed was much swelled, and putting it intohis bosom again. “This, and welcome,” offering his other hand toFrederick, and shaking his with a smile.
“Oh, that other hand!” said Frederick, “that was hurt, I remember. Howill I have behaved—extremely ill! But this is a lesson that I shallnever forget as long as I live. I hope for the future I shall behavelike a gentleman.”
“And like a man—and like a good man, I am sure thou wilt,” said the goodQuaker, shaking Frederick’s hand affectionately; “or I am much mistaken,friend, in that black countenance.”
“You are not mistaken,” cried Marianne. “Frederick will never bepersuaded again by anybody to do what he does not think right: and now,brother, you may wash your black countenance.”
Just when Frederick had got rid of half his black countenance, a doubleknock was heard at the door. It was Mr. and Mrs. Montague. “What willyou do now?” whispered Mrs. Theresa to Frederick, as his father andmother came into the room.
“A chimney-sweeper covered with blood!” exclaimed Mr. and Mrs. Montague.
“Father, I am Frederick,” said he, stepping forward towards them, as theystood in astonishment.
“Frederick! my son!”
“Yes, mother, I’m not hurt half so much as I deserve; I’ll tell you—”
“Nay,” interrupted Bertha, “let my brother tell the story this time.Thou hast told it once, and told it well; no one but my brother couldtell it better.”
“A story never tells so well the second time, to be sure,” said Mrs.Theresa; “but Mr. Eden will certainly make the best of it.”
Without taking any notice of Mrs. Tattle, or her apprehensive looks, Mr.Eden explained all he knew of the affair in a few words. “Your son,”concluded he, “will quickly put off his dirty dress. The dress hath notstained the mind; that is fair and honourable. When he found himself inthe wrong, he said so; nor was he in haste to conceal his adventure fromhis father; this made me think well of both father and son. I speakplainly, friend, for that is best. But what is become of the otherchimney-sweeper? He will want to go home,” said Mr. Eden, turning toMrs. Theresa. Without making any reply, she hurried out of the room asfast as possible, and returned in a few moments, with a look of extremeconsternation.
“Here is a catastrophe indeed! Now, indeed, Mr. Frederick, your papa andmamma have reason to be angry. A new suit of clothes!—the bare facedvillain! gone! no sign of them in my closet, or anywhere. The door waslocked; he must have gone up the chimney, out upon the leads, and soescaped; but Christopher is after him. I protest, Mrs. Montague, youtake it too quietly. The wretch!—a new suit of clothes, blue coat andbuff waistcoat. I never heard of such a thing! I declare, Mr. Montague,you are vastly good, not to be in a passion,” added Mrs. Theresa.
“Madam,” replied Mr. Montague, with a look of much civil contempt, “Ithink the loss of a suit of clothes, and even the disgrace that my sonhas been brought to this evening, fortunate circumstances in hiseducation. He will, I am persuaded, judge and act for himself morewisely in future. Nor will he be tempted to offend against humanity, forthe sake of being called ‘The best mimic in the world.’”