Mrs. Lirriper's Legacy Page 7

MilitaryEnglish! Vive the Lady Lirriper! Vive the Jemmy Jackman Ditto! Vivethe Legacy! Now, you look out, Gran. And you look out, godfather._I'll_ read! And I'll tell you what I'll do besides. On the last nightof our holiday here when we are all packed and going away, I'll top upwith something of my own."

  "Mind you do sir" says I.

  CHAPTER II--MRS. LIRRIPER RELATES HOW JEMMY TOPPED UP

  Well my dear and so the evening readings of those jottings of the Major'sbrought us round at last to the evening when we were all packed and goingaway next day, and I do assure you that by that time though it wasdeliciously comfortable to look forward to the dear old house in NorfolkStreet again, I had formed quite a high opinion of the French nation andhad noticed them to be much more homely and domestic in their familiesand far more simple and amiable in their lives than I had ever been ledto expect, and it did strike me between ourselves that in one particularthey might be imitated to advantage by another nation which I will notmention, and that is in the courage with which they take their littleenjoyments on little means and with little things and don't let solemnbig-wigs stare them out of countenance or speechify them dull, of whichsaid solemn big-wigs I have ever had the one opinion that I wish theywere all made comfortable separately in coppers with the lids on andnever let out any more.

  "Now young man," I says to Jemmy when we brought our chairs into thebalcony that last evening, "you please to remember who was to 'top up.'"

  "All right Gran" says Jemmy. "I am the illustrious personage."

  But he looked so serious after he had made me that light answer, that theMajor raised his eyebrows at me and I raised mine at the Major.

  "Gran and godfather," says Jemmy, "you can hardly think how much my mindhas run on Mr. Edson's death."

  It gave me a little check. "Ah! it was a sad scene my love" I says, "andsad remembrances come back stronger than merry. But this" I says after alittle silence, to rouse myself and the Major and Jemmy all together, "isnot topping up. Tell us your story my dear."

  "I will" says Jemmy.

  "What is the date sir?" says I. "Once upon a time when pigs drank wine?"

  "No Gran," says Jemmy, still serious; "once upon a time when the Frenchdrank wine."

  Again I glanced at the Major, and the Major glanced at me.

  "In short, Gran and godfather," says Jemmy, looking up, "the date is thistime, and I'm going to tell you Mr. Edson's story."

  The flutter that it threw me into. The change of colour on the part ofthe Major!

  "That is to say, you understand," our bright-eyed boy says, "I am goingto give you my version of it. I shall not ask whether it's right or not,firstly because you said you knew very little about it, Gran, andsecondly because what little you did know was a secret."

  I folded my hands in my lap and I never took my eyes off Jemmy as he wentrunning on.

  "The unfortunate gentleman" Jemmy commences, "who is the subject of ourpresent narrative was the son of Somebody, and was born Somewhere, andchose a profession Somehow. It is not with those parts of his careerthat we have to deal; but with his early attachment to a young andbeautiful lady."

  I thought I should have dropped. I durstn't look at the Major; but Iknow what his state was, without looking at him.

  "The father of our ill-starred hero" says Jemmy, copying as it seemed tome the style of some of his story-books, "was a worldly man whoentertained ambitious views for his only son and who firmly set his faceagainst the contemplated alliance with a virtuous but penniless orphan.Indeed he went so far as roundly to assure our hero that unless he weanedhis thoughts from the object of his devoted affection, he woulddisinherit him. At the same time, he proposed as a suitable match thedaughter of a neighbouring gentleman of a good estate, who was neitherill-favoured nor unamiable, and whose eligibility in a pecuniary point ofview could not be disputed. But young Mr. Edson, true to the first andonly love that had inflamed his breast, rejected all considerations ofself-advancement, and, deprecating his father's anger in a respectfulletter, ran away with her."

  My dear I had begun to take a turn for the better, but when it come torunning away I began to take another turn for the worse.

  "The lovers" says Jemmy "fled to London and were united at the altar ofSaint Clement's Danes. And it is at this period of their simple buttouching story that we find them inmates of the dwelling of ahighly-respected and beloved lady of the name of Gran, residing within ahundred miles of Norfolk Street."

  I felt that we were almost safe now, I felt that the dear boy had nosuspicion of the bitter truth, and I looked at the Major for the firsttime and drew a long breath. The Major gave me a nod.

  "Our hero's father" Jemmy goes on "proving implacable and carrying histhreat into unrelenting execution, the struggles of the young couple inLondon were severe, and would have been far more so, but for their goodangel's having conducted them to the abode of Mrs. Gran; who, diviningtheir poverty (in spite of their endeavours to conceal it from her), by athousand delicate arts smoothed their rough way, and alleviated thesharpness of their first distress."

  Here Jemmy took one of my hands in one of his, and began a marking theturns of his story by making me give a beat from time to time upon hisother hand.

  "After a while, they left the house of Mrs. Gran, and pursued theirfortunes through a variety of successes and failures elsewhere. But inall reverses, whether for good or evil, the words of Mr. Edson to thefair young partner of his life were, 'Unchanging Love and Truth willcarry us through all!'"

  My hand trembled in the dear boy's, those words were so wofully unlikethe fact.

  "Unchanging Love and Truth" says Jemmy over again, as if he had a proudkind of a noble pleasure in it, "will carry us through all! Those werehis words. And so they fought their way, poor but gallant and happy,until Mrs. Edson gave birth to a child."

  "A daughter," I says.

  "No," says Jemmy, "a son. And the father was so proud of it that hecould hardly bear it out of his sight. But a dark cloud overspread thescene. Mrs. Edson sickened, drooped, and died."

  "Ah! Sickened, drooped, and died!" I says.

  "And so Mr. Edson's only comfort, only hope on earth, and only stimulusto action, was his darling boy. As the child grew older, he grew so likehis mother that he was her living picture. It used to make him wonderwhy his father cried when he kissed him. But unhappily he was like hismother in constitution as well as in face, and lo, died too before he hadgrown out of childhood. Then Mr. Edson, who had good abilities, in hisforlornness and despair, threw them all to the winds. He becameapathetic, reckless, lost. Little by little he sank down, down, down,down, until at last he almost lived (I think) by gaming. And so sicknessovertook him in the town of Sens in France, and he lay down to die. Butnow that he laid him down when all was done, and looked back upon thegreen Past beyond the time when he had covered it with ashes, he thoughtgratefully of the good Mrs. Gran long lost sight of, who had been so kindto him and his young wife in the early days of their marriage, and heleft the little that he had as a last Legacy to her. And she, beingbrought to see him, at first no more knew him than she would know fromseeing the ruin of a Greek or Roman Temple, what it used to be before itfell; but at length she remembered him. And then he told her, withtears, of his regret for the misspent part of his life, and besought herto think as mildly of it as she could, because it was the poor fallenAngel of his unchanging Love and Constancy after all. And because shehad her grandson with her, and he fancied that his own boy, if he hadlived, might have grown to be something like him, he asked her to let himtouch his forehead with his cheek and say certain parting words."

  Jemmy's voice sank low when it got to that, and tears filled my eyes, andfilled the Major's.

  "You little Conjurer" I says, "how did you ever make it all out? Go inand write it every word down, for it's a wonder."

  Which Jemmy did, and I have repeated it to you my dear from his writing.

  Then the Major took my hand and kissed it, and said, "
Dearest madam allhas prospered with us."

  "Ah Major" I says drying my eyes, "we needn't have been afraid. We mighthave known it. Treachery don't come natural to beaming youth; but trustand pity, love and constancy,--they do, thank God!"