Hot black puddings, hot,Smoking hot,Just come out of the pot.
Hot black puddings, hot,Smoking hot,Just come out of the pot.
Hot black puddings, hot,
Smoking hot,
Just come out of the pot.
or,
Here, dainty brave cheese cakes,Come, buy 'em of me;Two for twopence,One for a penny;Come along, customers, if you'll buy any.
Here, dainty brave cheese cakes,Come, buy 'em of me;Two for twopence,One for a penny;Come along, customers, if you'll buy any.
Here, dainty brave cheese cakes,
Come, buy 'em of me;
Two for twopence,
One for a penny;
Come along, customers, if you'll buy any.
It pleased me to recall the humours of the town at that time. Except for the rows of booths, one would have thought it Stourbridge Fair at Cambridge, which once I saw. The weather was fine and clear, the cold east winds gone. There was so much money flying about that everybody was buying as well as selling; in spite of all that was brought into the town by the visitors, nothing was left when they went away, because all had been spent. We thought that the harvest would last forever. We looked to a season like that of Bath, which goes on all the year round. If our people took more money in one day than they had before taken in a whole month, they thought that it would go on day after day, and they spent it all without restraint. Nay, the wives and daughters of those who had kept humble shops and been content with fat bacon and hot milk for breakfast, and more bacon for dinner; who had been clad in homespun, now drank tea with bread and butter for breakfast like the Lady Anastasia herself; dined off ducks and goslings; drank fine ale and even Canary and Lisbon; and ventured to attend the assembly where they stood up to the country dance in silk like any gentlewoman.
I have mentioned the company of players; they acted three times a week. We who work for our living are apt to despise these mummers and their calling; to pretend every day to be some one else is not, we think, an occupation worthy of a man, while the painting, the disguise, the representation, either in dumb show or in words, of all the passions in turn, must surely leave the actor no real passions of his own. Yet I heard, while this company was with us, cases of such generosity and Christian charity one towards the other when the money ceased to come in, that I am constrained to allow them at least the great Christian virtue of love for one another.
Besides the players, there were the singers and the musicians of the spa; and there were jugglers, mountebanks, tumblers, tight-rope dancers, ballad-singers, fortune-tellers, conjurers, pedlars and hawkers of all kinds. The town of Lynn, formerly so quiet and retired, with no other disturbance than that caused by a brawl among drunken sailors, became suddenly transformed into the abode of all the devils disengaged at the moment. There were sharpers busy at the races and the cocking; men who laid bets, and if they lost, ran away, but loudly demanded their money when they won; there was gambling; there was drinking; there was fighting; the servants were as corrupt as their masters; there were fresh scandals continually; a reputation lost every day; there were duels fought over drunken quarrels, about women, about bets and wagers; the clerks of the counting-houses were filled with the new spirit of gambling; there were lotteries and raffles in which everybody took tickets, even if they got the money for them dishonestly. In a word, the pursuits of pleasure proved a mad race, down a broad and flowery path, on each side of which were drinking booths, and music, and dancing, while at the end there opened wide…. You shall speedily learn what this was.
"Jack," said the captain, "I am now resolved that Molly shall make her appearance at the assembly, and that as the heiress that she is. Not lowly and humbly. She shall take her place at once among the fine ladies."
"But she is not a gentlewoman, captain," I objected.
"She shall be finer than any gentlewoman of the whole company—just as she is better to look at without any finery."
"Will the company," I asked, "welcome her among them?"
"The women, Jack, will flout and slight her—I have watched them. They flout and slight each other. That breaks no bones. She shall go."
He went on to explain his designs. As you have heard, they were ambitious.
"I have this day acquainted Molly, for the first time, with the truth. She now knows that she is richer than any one believed. As for herself, she never thought about her fortune, knowing, she says, that it was safe in my hands. I have opened her father's strong place—it is in the cellar, behind a stone, and I have taken out the treasures that even her mother never saw, because her father wished to lead a homely life, and concealed his treasures. There are jewels and gold chains, bracelets, necklaces, rings—all kinds of things—Molly has them all—she is even now hugging them all in her lap and trying them on before her looking-glass. She shall go to the assembly covered with jewels."
"Is there any one among the whole company fit for her?" I asked.
"There is one, Jack. He is the noble Lord—the Lord Fylingdale—a very great man, indeed."
"Lord Fylingdale? Captain, are you serious?"
"Why, Jack, who can be too high and too grand for my Molly? He is said to be of a virtuous character and pious disposition; he neither gambles nor drinks, nor is a libertine, as is too common among many of his rank."
"But, captain, he will marry one of his own rank."
"Ta-ta! he will marry a fine girl, virtuously brought up, made finer by her fortune. What more can he expect than beauty, modesty, virtue, and a great—a noble fortune? If the girl pleases him—why, Jack, come to think of it, the girl must please him—she would move the heart of an ice-berg—then, I say, I shall see my girl raised to her proper place, and I shall die happy."
"But, captain, you will raise her above her mother and above yourself, and above all her old friends. You will lose her altogether."
"Ay, there's the rub. But I shall be contented even with that loss if she is happy."
I can see even now the honest eyes of the good old man humid for a moment as he contemplated his own loss, and I can hear his voice shake a little at thinking of the happiness he designed for his ward.
No one would believe that the captain could be so cunning. No one who reads this history would believe, either, that a man could be so ignorant and so simple. We were all as ignorant and as simple. We all believed what these lying people—these creatures of the devil—(when I say the devil I mean Lord Fylingdale)—told us. Sir Harry said that he was too virtuous and too serious for the world of fashion; the parson said that he was the most cleanly liver of all young men; the poet swore that he was all day long doing and scheming acts of charity and goodness towards the unfortunate. They were all in a tale—these villains—and we were simple and ignorant folk, credulous sailors and honest citizens living remote from the vices of town, who knew nothing and suspected nothing. As for myself, I was carried away, as much as the old captain, with the thought of the honour and glory that awaited our Molly. I concluded, in my simplicity, that the mere appearance and sight of the lovely girl would make all the men fall madly in love with her, without considering the hundred thousand additional charms held in trust for her by her guardian.
After this talk with the captain I sought Molly. She was in the summerhouse up the garden with her treasures spread out before her. It was a most wonderful sight—but it filled me with madness. I never imagined such a pile of gold and of precious stones. There were diamonds, and rubies, and blue sapphires; there were all kinds of gems, with chains of gold and bracelets—a glittering pile of gold and jewels. Yet my heart sank at the spectacle.
"Look, Jack, look," she cried. "They are all mine! All mine!" She gathered up a handful, and let them roll through her fingers. "All mine! Only think, and yesterday I was thinking how delightful it must be to have even one gold chain to hang round my neck! All mine!"
"Has your mother seen them, Molly?"
"Yes; she knew that there were things somewhere, but my father kept them put away. Mother didn't want jewels and chains. They came to us from grandfather, who sailed to the East Indies and brought them home. Look at the dainty delicate work!" She held up a chain most wonderful for its fine small work. "Did you ever see anything more beautiful?"
I turned away. The sight of the treasures made me sick. For, you see, they showed me how wide was the gulf between Molly and me.
"You want no jewels, Molly. I wish you were poor with all my heart."
"Oh! Jack! and so not to have these lovely things? That is cruel of you. And oh! Jack, I am to go to the assembly to-morrow evening."
"So the captain tells me."
"At last. Victory and Amanda"—Victory was the daughter of the curate of St. Nicholas, and Amanda was the daughter of the doctor—"have been already, and I have been kept at home. The dear, bewitching assembly! The music! The dancing! The fine ladies!"
"There will be none finer than you, Molly."
"That is what the captain says. I am to wear my gold chains and my jewels. My dress is waiting to be tried on. It came from Norwich. I shall not let you see it till the evening. The hairdresser is engaged for to-morrow afternoon. Victory says that the fine ladies turn up their noses and hide their faces with their fans when the girls of the place pass before them. Why? Victory does not thrust her company upon them. Nor shall I. As for that, I can bear their disdainful looks and their flouts with patience, I dare say."
"If these are the manners of the Great," I said, "give me our own manners."
"We are not gentlefolk, Jack, you and I and the captain. We must not complain. If we intrude upon the Quality they will show what they think of us. To be sure, the captain says that I could buy up the whole room. But I don't want to buy up anybody. I would rather let them go their own way, so that I may go mine. Jack, if I were a great lady I think I would be kind to a girl who was not so well born, if only she knew her place."
"You need not be humble, Molly. When they know who you are, and what is your fortune, you will make these fine ladies ashamed."
"The captain wants me to marry some great person," she laughed. "Oh! If the great person could see me making the bed and baking the apple pie and beating the eggs for the custard, with my sleeves turned up and my apron tied round my waist! What a fine lady I shall make, to be sure!"
"Well, but, Molly, remember that you are rich. You cannot marry anybody in Lynn. You must look higher."
"Jack, it makes me laugh. How shall I learn to be a great lady? How should I command an army of servants who have had but my faithful black? How should I sit in a gilded coach, who am used to ride a pony or to sail a boat?"
"You will soon get accustomed, Molly, even to a coach and six and running footmen, such as Lord Fylingdale has. You are not like Victory and Amanda, and the rest of the girls of Lynn, portionless and penniless. You must remember the station to which your fortune calls you."
"Money makes not a gentleman," she returned. "Nor a gentlewoman. I know my station. It is here, with my guardian, among my old friends. Well, perhaps I shall not take my place in what you call my station this year—or next year." Her face cleared, and became once more full of sunshine. "Jack," she said, "has the captain told you? No one is to dance with me to-morrow except yourself. We are to have the last minuet and first country dance together. None of the pretty fellows at the assembly are to speak to me. It is arranged with Mr. Prappet. They may look on with admiration and longing, Mr. Prappet says."
Since the arrival of our master of the ceremonies, Mr. Prappet, the dancing master of Norwich, he had been giving Molly lessons in those arts of dancing and the carriage of the body, the arms, the face, the head, which are considered to mark the polite world. As for myself, I was called upon to be her partner. Truth to say, I was always better at a hornpipe or a jig than in any of the fashionable dances; but, in a way, I could make shift to go through the steps.
"Now," she said, "let us practise once more by ourselves."
So we stepped out upon the grass, and there—she in her stuff frock, her apron, her hair lying about her neck and shoulders, and I in my workaday garb—we practised the dance which belongs to the assembly, to courts, to stately ladies and to gentlemen of birth and rank.
The captain was more cunning than one could have believed possible. He would produce this girl before the astonished company. They should see that she was more beautiful than any other woman in the whole room; more finely dressed; covered with gold chains and jewels; thus proclaiming herself as an heiress of great wealth. She should dance, at first, with none but one of her own station, or near it, and her old companion. She would first make all the world talk about her; but she should be kept apart. It should be understood that she was not for any of the young fellows of the company. Then, if she attracted the attention of this young nobleman, so virtuous, so pious, and of such rare qualities of heart and head—the thing which most he desired—her marriage with some man of high position, fit for such a girl, might take place. That was his design, thinking of Lord Fylingdale. If it failed he would withdraw the girl from the company and cast about for some other way.
While we were practising he came into the garden and stood leaning on his stick to look at us.
"Body and bones!" he said; "you've caught the very trick of it. Prappet has taught you how they do it. Sprawl, Jack; sprawl with a will. Twist and turn your body. Shake your leg, man. It's a fine leg; better than most. Shake it lustily. Slide, Molly, slide; slide with zeal. Slide and bend and twist, and shake your fan. I don't call that dancing! Why, there isn't a lad in any fo'k'sle couldn't do it better. Give them the hornpipe, Jack, when the sliding and sprawling is finished. Stand up and say, 'Ladies, your most obedient. I will now show a dance that is a dance.'"
When we finished he went on with his discourse.
"Molly has told you, I suppose. She will dance to-morrow evening with none but you. After the country dance lead her to her chair, and we will walk home beside her."
"Jack will look very fine among all the beaux," said Molly, laughing.
Truly, I had not considered the matter of dress, and I stood in my workaday things—to wit, a brown frieze coat with black buttons, a drugget waistcoat, shag breeches, and black stockings. I remembered the grand silk and velvet of the beaux and stood abashed.
"Show him, captain," said Molly, laughing, "what we have got for him."
The captain shook his head. "My mind misgives me," he said. "That boy will feel awkward in this new gear. However, fine feathers make fine birds. Also fine birds flock together. Since thou art to dance with Molly, my lad, thy rig must do credit to her as well as thyself, so come with me."
If you believe me, the captain, who thought of everything, had provided such a dress as might have been worn by any gentleman in the room without discredit. It consisted of a blue coat with silver buttons and silver braid; a waistcoat of pink silk, velvet breeches, and white silk stockings. There was added a gold laced hat with lace for throat and sleeves.
"So," said the captain when I stood before him arrayed in this guise, "'tis a gentleman born and bred, to look upon. Powder thy hair, my lad; tie it with a white ribbon and a large bow. There will not be a fribble in the whole company, even including the poor old atomy, Sir Harry, to compare with you."
'TIS A GENTLEMAN BORN AND BRED, TO LOOK UPON."'TIS A GENTLEMAN BORN AND BRED, TO LOOK UPON."
'TIS A GENTLEMAN BORN AND BRED, TO LOOK UPON."'TIS A GENTLEMAN BORN AND BRED, TO LOOK UPON."
"'TIS A GENTLEMAN BORN AND BRED, TO LOOK UPON."
Molly clapped her hands. "Jack!" she cried, "if I pretend to be a great lady you must pretend to be an admiral, at least. Why, sir, I feel as if we had never known you before. As for me—but you shall see." She sighed. "It is only for the evening," she said. "We shall come home and I shall put on my old homespun again and you your shag and your frieze. I am Cinderella and you are Cinderella's brother, and the captain is the Fairy."
So we laughed and made merry. Yet still I felt that sinking of the heart which weighed upon me from the first night of the great discovery and never left me. There are sailors—I have known such—I think that I am myself one—who know beforehand by such a premonitory sinking when the voyage will be stormy. Nay, there are some who know and can foretell when the ship will be cast away and all her crew drowned in the sea or broken to pieces against the rocks.
I looked into the parlour and found Molly's mother. She sat with her work in her hands, her lips moving, her eyes fixed. And I saw that she was unhappy. She was a homely body always. One could understand that her husband was right in judging that she was not likely to want jewels and gold chains or to show them to advantage. Like many women of the station in which she was born (which was beneath that of her husband) she was unlearned, and could not read; but she was a notable housewife.
"Jack," she said, coming to herself, "Molly has told you, I suppose."
"I have seen her treasures, and have heard that she is to go to the assembly."
"She is richer than I suspected. Oh, Jack, she will marry some great man, the captain says—and so I shall lose my girl—and she is all I have in the world—all I have—all I have!"
She threw her apron over her head—and I slipped away, my heart full of forebodings. It is wonderful to remember these forebodings because they were so fully justified. Patience! You shall hear.
I have now to tell you how Molly made her first public appearance at the assembly, and how she delighted and pleased the kindly ladies who formed the company.
It was a crowded gathering. Lord Fylingdale, it was known, would be present. Many gentlemen, therefore, who would otherwise have been at the coffee house, the tavern, or the cockpit, were present in honour of this distinguished visitor, or in the hope of being presented to him. And all the ladies visiting the spa were there as well, young and old, matrons and maids; the latter, perhaps, permitting themselves dreams of greatness.
His lordship arrived brave in apparel, tall, handsome, proud, still in early manhood, wearing his star upon his breast. Every girl's heart beat only to think of the chance should she be able to attract the attention and the passion of such a man. He was accompanied (say, followed) by his secretary, our poet—the only poet that our town has produced. The master of the ceremonies received him with a profound bow, and, after a few words, conducted him to the chair or throne on which sat the Lady Anastasia with a small court around her. Then the music began, and Lord Fylingdale led out that lady for the minuet. And the company stood around in a circle, admiring. He next danced with the young wife of a Norfolk gentleman and member of Parliament, after which he retired and stood apart. Sir Harry followed, dancing twice with a fine show of agility. After him others of lower rank followed. Towards the conclusion of the minuet Molly entered the room, led by her guardian, Captain Crowle, and followed by myself in my new disguise.
The captain was no better dressed than if he were sitting in the Crown Inn, save that he had exchanged his worsted stockings for white silk. He looked what he was—a simple sailor and commander of a ship. But no one regarded him or myself, because all eyes were turned upon Molly.
She appeared before the astonished assembly clothed, so to speak, with diamonds and precious stones, glittering in the light of the candles like a crowd of stars. She was covered with jewels. Diamonds were in her headdress; they were also hanging from her neck; there were rubies and emeralds, sapphires and opals in her necklace and her bracelets; heavy gold chains, light gold chains, gold chains set with pearls were hanging about her. She was clothed, I say, from head to foot with gold and with precious stones.
The intention of the captain was carried out. On her first appearance she proclaimed herself as she stood before them all as an heiress who was able to carry a great fortune upon her back, as the saying is, and to have another great fortune at home. Never before had the company beheld so strange a sight; a girl wearing so much wealth and such splendid jewels for a simple assembly.
Then from lip to lip was passed the words, "Who is she? What is her name? Where does she come from? What is her family? What is the meaning of this resplendent show of gems and gold? Are they real? Why does she wear them?" And for the whole of that evening, while Molly was in the room, no one thought of anything except this wonderful vision of dazzling jewels. The eyes of the whole company followed her about, and in their conversation they talked of nothing else. For, of all things, this was the most unexpected, and, to all the other maidens, the most disconcerting. They were plain country girls, while Molly was a goddess. To say that she outshone them all is to say nothing. There was no comparison possible.
Truly the captain was right. There was no one in that room who could compare with Molly—either for beauty or for bravery of apparel. As for her beauty, it was of the kind the power of which women seem not to understand. Men, who do understand it, call it loveliness. Venus herself—Helen of Troy—Fair Rosamond—Jane Shore—all the fair women of whom we have heard, possessed, I am sure, this loveliness. Your regular beauty of straight features of which so much is made doth never, I think, attract mankind so surely, or so quickly; doth never hold men so strongly; doth never make them so mad with love. It is the woman of the soft eyes, the sweet eyes, the eyes that are sometimes hazel and sometimes blue, the eyes full of light and sunshine, the eyes where Cupid plays; the lips that are always ready to smile; the lips so rosy red; so round and small; the cheek that is like a peach for softness and for bloom, touched with a natural pink and red; the rounded chin; the forehead white and not too large; the light brown hair that is almost flaxen, curling naturally but disposed by art. Such a woman was Molly.
Yet not a weakly thin slip of a girl. She was tall and strong; her arms were round and white as a woman's should be, but they were big as well, as if they could do man's work—they were strengthened and rounded by the oars which she had handled from childhood. Her ample cheek wanted no daub of paint; it had a fine healthy colour, like a damask rose, but more delicate; her eyes were full and bright; there was no girl in the place, not even among the country ladies, could show a face and figure so strong, so finely moulded, of such large and generous charms. When the men gazed upon her they gasped; when the women gazed upon her their hearts sank low with envy.
How am I to describe her dress? I know that her head was made in what they called the English fashion, with a structure of lace, thin wires and round rolls on cushions, with ringlets at the sides and pinned to a small cap on the top.
All I can safely say about her dress is that she wore a gown of cherry-coloured silk, with gold flowers over a petticoat of pink silk adorned by a kind of network of gold lace; that her sleeves were wide with a quantity of lace—I have never carried a cargo of lace, and therefore I know not its value; that her gloves were of white silk; that her arms were loaded with bracelets which clanged and clashed when she moved; and that chains of gold hung round her neck and over her shoulders.
The master of ceremonies received us with distinction.
"Captain Crowle," he said, loudly, "you have too long withheld your lovely ward from the assembly of the spa. I would invite her to dance the last minuet with Mr. Pentecrosse."
All this had been arranged beforehand. The people gazed curiously, and began to press around us as I advanced with Molly's hand in mine.
"Be not abashed, Jack," whispered the old captain. "They know not what to think. Show them how the dance should be done. Slide and sprawl, my lad. Sprawl with a will and both together," he added, hoarsely, "with a yo-heave-ho!"
Then the music began again, and Molly stood opposite to me—and the dance began.
For my own part I obeyed the captain's admonition. I endeavoured to forget the people who were looking on—I tried to think that we were rehearsing in the garden—and feeling confidence return, I began to slide and sprawl with a will.
All the people were gathered round us in a circle. The ladies, holding their fans before their faces, tittered and giggled audibly. The men, for their part, laughed openly, making observations not intended to be good-natured. They were laughing at me! And I was getting on, as I believed, so well. However, I did not know the cause of their merriment, and carried on the sprawling with a greater will than ever.
I am sorry now, whenever I think upon it, that Molly had not a better partner. For my performance, which was quite correct, and in every particular exactly what Mr. Prappet had taught me, was distinguished, I learned afterwards, by a certain exaggeration of gesture due to my desire to be correct, which made the dance ridiculous. If only I had been permitted to give them a hornpipe! What had I, a mere tarpaulin, as they say, to do with fine clothes, fashionable sliding and sprawling, and the pretence of fashionable manners?
You must not think that Molly, though it was her first appearance in public, though she wore these fine things for the first time, though all eyes were upon her, was in the least degree abashed. She bore herself with modesty and an assumed unconsciousness of what people were saying and how they were looking at her, which certainly did her great credit. And I am quite sure that, whatever my own performance, hers was full of grace and ease, and the dignity which makes this dance so fit for great lords and ladies and so unfit for rustic swains and shepherdesses. She smiled upon her partner as sweetly as if we were together in the garden; she played her fan as prettily as if we were rehearsing the dance with mirth and merriment—it was a costly fan, with paintings upon it and a handle set with pearls.
The dance was finished at last, and I led my partner to the end of the room, where the maids sat all in a row with white aprons and white caps—among them Molly's woman, Nigra—to repair any disorder to the head or to the dress caused by the active movements of the dance.
And then they all began to talk. I could hear fragments and whole sentences. They were talking about us.
"Who is she, then?" asked one lady, impatiently. "Where does she come from?"
"Perhaps a sea nymph," replied a gentleman, gallantly, "brought from the ocean by the god Neptune, who stands over yonder. One can smell the seaweed."
"And the gems and chains come, I suppose, from old wrecks."
"Or," said the ancient beau, Sir Harry, "a wood nymph from the train of Diana. In that case the old gentleman may be the god Pan. The nymphs of Diana, it appears, have lately taken lessons in the fashionable dance. As yet, unfortunately——" He shrugged his shoulders.
"I cannot choose but hear, Jack," said Molly. "Let us make as if we heard nothing."
"She is an actress," said another lady. "I saw her last night in the play. She personated an impudent maidservant. The chains and gems are false; one can see that with half an eye. They are what those vagabond folk call stage properties."
Yet another took up the parable. "She should be put to the door, or she should stand in a white apron with the maids. What? We are decent and respectable ladies, I hope."
"They are not gems at all," observed a young fellow, anxious to display his wit. "They are the lamps from the garden. She has cut them down and hung them round herself. See the pretty colours—red—green—blue."
"Let her put them back again, then, and leave the company into which she dares to intrude." This was the spiteful person who had seen her on the stage and knew her for one of the strollers. The resentment of the ladies against a woman who presumed to be more finely dressed than themselves, and to display more jewels than they themselves possessed, or even hoped to possess, was deeper and louder than one could believe possible. Yet this was a polite assembly, and these ladies had learned the manners which we are taught to copy, at a distance—we who are not gentlefolk.
"Jack," said Molly, "these are the flouts of which the captain warned us. Lead me round the room. Right through the middle of them, so that they may see with half an eye how false are my jewels."
I obeyed. They fell back, making a lane for us, and talking about us after we passed through them, without the least affectation of a whisper.
They had an opportunity, however, of seeing the dress and the trappings more closely.
"My dear," said one, "the jewels are real. I am sure they are real. On the stage they wear large glass things. Those are brilliants of the first water in her hair, and those are true pearls about her neck."
"And her dress," said another, "is of the finest silk; and did you see the gold lace in front of her petticoat? The dress and the jewels, they must be worth—oh! worth a whole estate. Who can she be?"
"Such a woman," observed an elderly matron very sweetly, "would probably be ashamed to say where she found those things. Oh! But the master of the ceremonies must be warned. She must not be tolerated here again."
"How kind they are, Jack!" whispered Molly.
"Who is the fellow with her?" I heard next.
"He sells flounders and eels in the market. I have seen him in a blue coat and long white sleeves and an apron."
"No. He is a clerk in a counting-house."
"Not at all. The fellow, like the girl, belongs to the strollers. I saw him last night laying a carpet on the stage."
"A personable fellow, with a well turned leg." This compliment made me blush. "It is his misfortune that he must be coupled with so impudent a baggage."
"You see, Jack," said Molly, "it all comes back to me."
So we went on walking round the room, pretending to hear nothing. We met Victory, also walking round the room with her beau, a young merchant of the town. She, fortunate girl! had no jewels with which to excite the envy, hatred, and malice of the ladies. She was unmolested, though not a gentlewoman by station.
"Molly," she said, "you are splendid. I have never seen such a show of jewels. But you will drive them mad with envy. Hateful creatures! I see them turning green. The minuet was beautiful, my dear. Oh! Jack, you made me laugh. Never was seen such posturing. The men are angry, because they think you meant to make them ridiculous."
Thus may one learn unpalatable truth, even from friends. My "posturing," then, as the girl called it, was ridiculous. And I thought my performance correct, and quite in the style of the highest fashion!
Then the captain joined in. "Famous!" he said. "Jack, you rolled about like a porpoise at the bows. Never believe that a sailor cannot show the way at a dance. Molly, my dear, you were not so brisk as Jack. But it was very well, very well, indeed. The women cannot contain themselves for spite and envy. What did I tell you, my dear?"
Meantime another kind of conversation was going on, which we could not hear.
"My lord," the poet bustled up, with his cringing familiarity. "Yonder is the heiress of whom I spoke."
"Humph! She is well enough for a rustical beauty. Her shape is good, if too full for the fashion; her cheeks bespeak the dairy, and her shoulders tell of the milking pail. Why does she wear as many jewels and charms as an antiquated duchess at a coronation? I suppose they are real. But there are too many of them."
"They are real. I would vouch for them, my lord," he added earnestly. "All that I have told you is most true. A greater heiress you will not find in the whole country. Even with the jewels upon her she could buy up all the women in the room."
"I would make sure upon that point. They say that she has ships, lands——"
"And money. Accumulations. My lord, if you will not take my word for it—why should you?—ask her guardian. There he stands."
"The old salt now beside her, like a Cerberus of the quarter-deck? Who is the other—the fellow who danced with her—his actions like those of a graceful elephant? Is he one of her lovers?"
"She has no lovers. Her guardian permits none. The young lady has been kept in the house. That man is her servant; he is nothing but a mate in one of her ships. Captain Crowle would not allow a fellow of that position to make love to his ward."
"Humph!" said his lordship. "Bring the old man here."
The captain obeyed the summons somewhat abashed. But my lord put him at his ease. "You may retire, Mr. Semple. I would converse with Captain Crowle." Then he turned to the captain with the greatest affability.
"Our good friend, Mr. Semple, tells me, captain, that yonder beauty—the toast, if I mistake not, of our young gentleman to-night—is none other than your ward."
"At your service, my lord."
"Nay, captain. It is I who should be at her service. Frankly, she does honour to your town. Had we discovered Miss Molly there would have been no need to discuss the magical waters of the spa. May I inquire into the name and conditions of her family?"
"As for her name, sir, it is plain Molly Miller. As for her parentage, her father was a ship owner and a merchant. Though a citizen and a free man of Lynn, he was as substantial a man as may be found in the port of London. Her mother, my first cousin, was the daughter and the granddaughter and the sister and the cousin of men who have been captains in the merchant service of Lynn—for many generations. Most of them lie at the bottom of the sea. We are plain folk, my lord, and homely. But Providence hath thought fit to bless our handiwork, and—you see my ward before you—I hope she does not shame the company?"
"On the contrary, Captain Crowle, she adorns and beautifies the company not only with her good looks, which are singular and extraordinary, but also with her fine dress and her jewels, which have won for her already the envy of every woman in the assembly.
"There are as many jewels in the locker as have come out of it for to-night," said the captain sturdily.
"Ay? Ay? And there are ships, I hear—many ships. Our friend Mr. Semple speaks of the lady's wealth with as much respect as he speaks of her beauty."
"He well may—Molly is the greatest shipowner of Lynn. She is also owner of many houses in the town and of many broad acres outside the town. And she will have, when she marries, in addition, a fortune of many thousand pounds."
"She is, then, indeed, an heiress. I wish her, for your sake, Captain Crowle, a worthy husband. But it is a grave responsibility. There are hawks about always looking for a rich wife—to restore fortunes battered by evil courses. You must take care, Captain Crowle."
"I mean to take care."
"Perhaps among the merchants of this port." The captain shook his head.
"Or among the gentlemen of Norfolk." The captain shook his head.
"They drink too hard—and they live too hard."
"Perhaps among the scholars and divines of Cambridge."
"They are not fit mates for a lively girl."
"Captain, I perceive that you are difficult to please. Even for your charming ward you must not expect a miracle in the creation of a new Adam fit for this new Eve. Be reasonable, Captain Crowle." His lordship spoke so pleasantly and laughed with so much good nature that the captain was encouraged, and spoke out his mind as to an old friend.
"No, no, I want no miracle. I desire that my girl, who is a loving girl, with a heart of gold, should be wooed and married by a gentleman whom she will respect and honour—not a drinker nor a gambler nor a profligate. She will bring him a fortune which is great even for persons of quality."
My lord bowed gravely. "You are right, Captain Crowle, to entertain these opinions. Do not change them under any temptations. One would only wish that the lady may find such a mate. But, captain, remember—I say it not in an unfriendly spirit—class weds with class. Sir, they are about to begin the country dance, let us look on."
The company began to take their places.
"Captain Crowle," Lord Fylingdale pointed to the dancers, repeating his words: "Class weds with class—class dances with class. At the head of the set stands Sir Harry the Evergreen. His partner is a lady of good family. Next to them are others of good family. Those young people who are now taking their places lower down are—— What are they?"
"Two of them are the daughters of the doctor and the vicar—good girls both."
"Good girls, doubtless. But, Captain Crowle, not gentlefolk, and there, I observe, your lovely ward, Captain Crowle, takes her place modestly and last of all. Who dances with her?"
"It is young John Pentecrosse, son of our schoolmaster, mate on board one of Molly's ships. He is her playfellow. They have been together since childhood."
"Perhaps he would be more. Take care, captain—take care." So he turned away as if no longer interested in the girl. But Sam Semple remained behind.
"Sir," he said to the captain, "his lordship took particular notice of your ward. 'Miss Molly,' said my lord, 'is a rustic nymph dressed for the court of Venus. Never before have I seen a face of more heavenly beauty.' Those were his lordship's very words." But Sam Semple was always a ready liar.
"Ay, my lad. They are fine words; but fine words butter no parsnips. 'Class weds with class,' that's what he said to me."
"Surely, captain, with such a face and such a fortune Miss Molly is raised to the rank … say, of countess. Would a coronet satisfy you for your ward? I mean nothing"—here he glanced at the figure of his lordship. "Nothing—of course not—what could I mean? How well a coronet, captain, would become that lovely brow!"
Everybody knows that the country dance should continue until the couple at the bottom have arrived at the top and have had their turn. Everybody knows, too, that the country dance, unlike the minuet, is joined by the whole company, with only so much deference to rank as to give the better sort the highest places at the beginning. They were given this evening to the ladies of the county who could boast of their gentility, and, to do them justice, did boast loudly of it, comparing their own families and that of their husbands with those of other ladies present. It seems to me, indeed, that it is better to have no coat of arms and no grandfathers if the possession leads to so much jealousy, backbiting, and slander. All these ladies, however, united in one point, viz, that of scorn and contempt for those girls of Lynn who ventured to join the assembly or to walk in the gardens. They showed this contempt in many ways, especially by whispering and giggling when one of the natives passed them. "Is it tar that one smells so strong?" if one of the sea captain's daughters was standing near, they would ask. Or "Madam, I think there must be an apothecary's shop in the assembly," if it was the doctor's daughter, Amanda Worship. And at the country dance they refused to take the hand of these girls.
Their greatest possible insult, however, was offered to Molly. It was a good dance tune, played with spirit—the tune they call "Hey go mad!" We moved gradually higher up. At last we stood at the top, and our turn came to end the dance.
Imagine our discomfiture at this point when the whole of these kind ladies and their partners left their places and so broke up the dance. We were left alone at the top, while at the bottom were the other two girls of Lynn, Victory and Amanda, with their partners.
"It's a shame!" cried Victory, aloud. "Do they call these manners?"
"Never mind," said Amanda, also aloud; "it's because you outshine them all, Molly."
But the mischief was done, and the dance was broken up.
Molly flushed crimson. I thought she would say something sharp. Nay, I have known her cuff and box the ear of man or maid for less, and I feared at this moment that she would in like manner avenge the insult. But she restrained herself, and said nothing.
Meantime, the ladies who had committed this breach of polite manners stood together and laughed aloud, pretending some great joke among themselves; but their eyes showed the nature of the joke and this triumph over a woman who, as Amanda said, outshone them all.
"Your turn will come," I said.
"I think, Jack," said my girl, quickly, "that my chair must be waiting. The captain said that I was to go after the first country dance."
But a great surprise awaited her and the ladies who had played her this agreeable and diverting trick, for Lord Fylingdale stepped forward, the people falling back to make way for him. He drew himself up before Molly and made her a profound bow. The captain walked beside him, evidently by invitation.
"Miss Molly," he said loudly, "your worthy guardian has informed me of your name and quality. We wanted, in the company at the spa, to make it complete—the heiress of Lynn. It is fitting that this borough, which is always young and flourishing, should be represented by one graced with so many charms."
Molly curtsied with more dignity than one could have expected. See what a dancing master can effect in a fortnight. "Your lordship," she said, "does me too much honour. The reception which I have met with from these ladies had not, I confess, prepared me for your kindness."
"I shall humbly ask the favour of a dance with you, Miss Molly, on the next occasion." The fans were now all agitation; 'twas like a flutter in a dovecot. "We shall see if we shall be deserted when our turn comes." Some of the ladies hid their faces with their fan; some blushed for shame; some bit their lips with vexation; all darted looks of envy and hatred upon the cause of the open rebuke.
"Sir"—Lord Fylingdale turned severely to the master of the ceremonies—"the rules of polite society should be obeyed at Lynn as much as at Bath and Tunbridge Wells. Look to it, sir; I request you."
So saying, he took Molly's hand, and led her to the chair outside.
When Molly's chair was carried away, Lord Fylingdale returned to the assembly. The music had begun another moving and merry tune—that called "Richmond Ball"—the couples were taking their places, the young fellows dancing already as they stood waiting, with hands and feet and even shoulders all together, their partners laughing at them, and, with hands upon their frocks, pretending to set in the joy and the merriment of their hearts. And I believe that the withdrawal of Molly made them all much happier.
Two or three of the ladies standing apart were discussing the public rebuke just administered. They were angry, being ladies who conceited themselves on the score of manners, and were proud of their families.
"Not the whole House of Lords," said one, loud enough for his lordship to hear, "shall make me give my hand to a sailor's wench. Let her stick to her tar and her pitch. A pretty thing, indeed!"
"I hope," said another, agitating her fan violently, "that his lordship does not put the ladies of Norfolk on the same level as the girls of King's Lynn."
"Dear madam," said a third, "Lord Fylingdale called her an heiress—the heiress of Lynn. An heiress does not carry all her fortune on her back. Do you not think—some of us have sons—that we might, perhaps, receive this person with kindness?"
"No, madam. I will not be on any terms with this creature. In my family we consort with none but gentlefolk."
"Indeed, madam! But a hundred years ago your family, if I mistake not, were ploughing and ditching on the farms of my family."
Molly seemed like to prove a firebrand indeed. Lord Fylingdale, however, passed through them without any sign of hearing a word. He looked round; he observed that the next dance had begun, and that every lady was touching the hands of those who were not of her own exalted family. So that his admonition was bearing fruit. He then left the long room and went into the card room. Here he found the Lady Anastasia sitting at a table, surrounded by a little crowd of players. She held the bank. In the excitement of the play her eyes sparkled; her bosom heaved; her colour went and came visibly beneath the paint on her cheeks; her lips became pale and then returned to their proper colour; she rapped the table with her fingers. She was enjoying, in fact, the rapture which fills the heart of the gambler and makes play the only thing desirable in life. Perhaps the preacher could imagine no greater misery for the gamester than a heaven in which there were no cards.
The game which the Lady Anastasia introduced to these country gentlemen and the company generally was one called hazard, which is, I believe, commonly played by gamesters of fashion. Indeed, as was afterwards learned, this very lady had been by name presented by the grand jury of Middlesex for keeping a bank at the game of hazard on Sundays against all comers. At Lynn she kept the bank every evening except Sunday. It is a game which, more than any other, is said to lure on the player, so that a man who, out of simple curiosity, sets a guinea and calls a main, finds himself, after a few evenings of alternating fortune, winning and losing in turn, so much attracted by the game that he is only happy when he is playing. I know not how many gamblers for life were made during the short time when this lady held the bank. Wonderful to relate, no one seemed to consider that she was doing anything wrong. She was seen at morning prayers every day; she drank the waters of the spa; she walked in the gardens, taking tea and talking scandal with the greatest affability; and in the evenings, when she kept the bank, it was with a face so full of smiles, with so much appearance of rejoicing when a player won, and so much kindness and sympathy when a player lost, that no one asked whether she herself won or lost.
For my own part, I do not understand how the bank can be held without great risks and losses. But I have been assured, by one who knows, that the chances are greatly in favour of the bank, and that this lady, so highly placed, and of such charming manners, was simply playing to win, and did win very largely, if not every evening, then in the course of a week or a month.
"We are all friends here," she said, taking her place and dividing the pile of money, which constituted her bank, into two heaps, right and left. At her right hand stood a man of cold and harsh appearance, who took no interest in the game, but, like a machine, cried the main and the chance, and gave or took the odds, and, with a rake, either swept the stakes into the bank when the player lost, or pushed out the amount won by the player to his seat. They called him thecroupier, which is, I believe, a French word. He came from London.
"Since we are all friends here," Lady Anastasia went on, "we need not observe the precautions that are necessary in London, where players have been known to withdraw part of their stakes when they have lost, and to add more when they have won."
Among the players seated at the table—there were many others standing, who ventured a guinea or so, and, having won or lost, went away—was the ancient youth of fashion, Sir Harry, who had now exchanged the dance for the card room. There was also the gentleman of loud voice and boisterous manners, called Colonel Lanyon.
Sir Harry was the first to call for the dice box, and the dice.
"Seven's the main," he cried, laying as many guineas on the table. He then rattled the dice and threw. "Five!" he cried.
"Five!" repeated the croupier. "Seven's the main, five is the chance."
The rule of the game is that the player throws again and continues to throw. If he throws seven first, he loses; if he throws five first, he wins. But there are introduced certain other rules, so that the game is not so easy and simple as it seems. Some throws are called "nicks," and some are called "crabs." If a nick is thrown, the caster pays to the bank one main. If crabs, the dice box goes to another player. But any bystander may bet on the odds. I know not myself what the odds are, but the regular player knows, and the croupier calls them; in some cases the bystanders may not bet against the bank, but I do not know these cases. I know only the simple rules, having seen it played in the card room.
Lord Fylingdale looked on with an air of cold indifference. He saw, if he observed anything, that Colonel Lanyon and Sir Harry were playing high, but that the rest of the company were timidly venturing single guineas at each cast. Some of them were women, and these were the fiercest and the most intent upon the game. Most of them were young men, those who commonly spent their days in all those kinds of sport which allow of bets and the winning and losing of money. We have heard of gaming tables in London at which whole fortunes are sometimes lost at a single sitting; of young men who sit down rich and rise up poor—even destitute. The young men of Norfolk certainly do not gamble away their estates in this blind fashion; but it must be owned that their chief pleasures are those on which they can place a wager, and that the pastimes which do not allow of a bet are not regarded with favour. For the ladies of the towns a game of quadrille or whist is the amusement whenever two or three can be got together. It must, however, be confessed that the gentlemen are fonder of drinking away their evenings than of playing cards. The games of ombre, hazard, basset, faro, and others in which large sums of money are staked, are commonly played by the people of the town, not of the country.
Lord Fylingdale stood for a while looking over the table. Then he pulled out his purse—a long and well-filled purse—and laid down twenty guineas, calling the main "Nine." He threw. "Nick," cried the croupier in his hard, monotonous note. His lordship had lost. He took out another handful of guineas and laid them on the table. Again he lost. The players looked up, expectant. They wanted to see how a noble lord would receive this reverse of fortune. In their own case it would have been met with curses on their luck, deep and loud and repeated. To their astonishment he showed no sign of interest in the event. He only put up his purse and resumed his attitude of looking on.
At eleven o'clock the music stopped; the dancing was over. Nothing remained but the punch with which some of the company concluded the evening. It was provided at the expense of the gentlemen.
The players began to recount their experiences. Fortune, which had smiled on a few, seemed to have frowned on most.
Then Lord Fylingdale offered another surprise.
"Ladies," he said, "I venture to offer you the refreshment of a glass of punch. Gentlemen, may I hope that you will join the ladies in this conclusion to the evening? I would willingly, if you will allow me, drink to your good luck at the card table. Let the county of Norfolk show that Fortune which has favoured this part of the country so signally in other respects has also been as generous in this. I am not myself a Norfolk, but a Gloucestershire man. I come from the other side of the country. Let me, however, in this gathering of all that is polite and of good family in the county be regarded as no stranger, but a friend."
By this time the punch was brought in, two steaming great bowls. The gentlemen ladled it out for the ladies and for themselves and all stood expectant.
"I give you a toast," said his lordship. "We are entertained by the ancient and venerable borough of Lynn; we must show our gratitude to our entertainers. I am informed that these rooms, these gardens, the music and the singers, together with the pump room, have all been designed, built, collected, and arranged for the company, namely, ourselves. Let us thank the good people of Lynn. And, since the town has sent to our assembly to-night its loveliest flower, the young heiress whom I shall call the Lady of Lynn, let us drink to her as the representative of her native place. Gentlemen, I offer you as a toast, 'Sweet Molly, the Lady of Lynn!'"
The gentlemen drank it with enthusiasm, the ladies looked at each other doubtfully. They had not come to Lynn expecting to hear the beauty of a girl of the place, the town of sailors, ships, quays, cargoes, casks, cranes, and merchants, the town of winding streets and narrow courts where the deserted houses were falling to pieces. The county families went sometimes to Norwich, where there is very good society; and sometimes to Bury, where there are assemblies in the winter; but no ladies ever came to Lynn, where there were no assemblies, no card parties, and no society.
After this toast, the Lady Anastasia withdrew with the other ladies. Lord Fylingdale led her to her chair and then called for his own.
The gentlemen remained sitting over their punch and talking.
"Who," said one, "is this sweet Molly? Who is this great heiress? Who is the Lady of Lynn?"
"I never knew," said another, "that there was a lady in Lynn at all."
"You have been in the card room all the evening," said another. "She danced the last minuet. Where can she be hidden that no one has seen her before? Gentlemen, 'twas a vision of Venus herself, or the fair Diana, in a silk frock and a flounced petticoat, with pearls and diamonds, and precious stones. An heiress? An heiress in Lynn?"
The poet, Sam Semple, who was present, pricked up his ears. The punch had begun to loosen his tongue.
"Gentlemen," he said, "by your leave. You are all strangers at Lynn Regis. Norwich you know, and Bury and Swaffham, and perhaps other towns in the county. But, with submission, Lynn you do not know."
"Why, sir, as for not knowing Lynn, what can a body learn of the place that is worth knowing?"
"You think that it is a poor place, with a few colliers and fishing smacks, and a population of sailors and vintners." The poet took another glass of punch and drank it off to clear his head. "Well, sir, you are mistaken. From Lynn goes forth every year a noble fleet of ships. Whither do they go? To all the ports of Europe. From Lynn they go out; to Lynn they return. To whom do these ships belong? Is a ship worth nothing? To whom do their cargoes belong? Is the cargo of a tall three-master worth nothing? Now, gentlemen, if most of these ships belong to one girl; if they are freighted for one girl; if half the trade of Lynn is in the hands of this girl's guardian; if for twenty years the revenues from the trade have been rolling up—what is that girl but a great heiress?"
"Is that the case with—with sweet Molly?" asked a young fellow who had been drinking before the punch appeared, and now spoke with a thick voice. "Is she the heiress and the Lady of Lynn?"
"She is nothing less," Sam Semple replied. "As for her fortune, I believe, if she wished it, she could buy up half this county."
"And she is unmarried…. Egad!" it was the same young fellow who spoke, "he will be a lucky man who gets her."
"A lucky man indeed," said Sam, "but she is above your reach, let me tell you," he added, impudently, because the other was a gentleman.
"Above my reach? Take that," he threw the glass of punch in the poet's face. "Above my reach? Mine? Who the devil is this fellow? The owner of a ship, or a dozen ships, with their stinking cargoes and their cheating trade, above my reach? Why——" Here he would have fallen upon the offender, but was restrained by his friends.
Sam stood open-mouthed, looking about him dumfoundered, the punch streaming over his cheeks.
"You'd best go, sir," said one of them. "I know not who you are. But, if you are a gentleman you can send your friend to-morrow. If not"—he laughed—"in our country if a gentleman falls out with one whom he cannot fight with swords, he is not too proud to meet him with stick or fist. In any case you had better go—and that without delay."
The poet turned and ran. No hostile meeting followed. Sam could not send a challenge, being no gentleman, and, as you have already seen, he was not naturally inclined for the ordeal by battle in any other form.
The young man was one Tom Rising, whose estates lay near Swaffham. He was well known as the best and most fearless rider in the whole county; he was the keenest sportsman; he knew where to find fox, hare, badger, ferret, stoat, or weasel; he knew where to put up a pheasant or a cover of partridges; he could play at all manly sports; he was a wild, fearless, reckless, deboshed young fellow, whom everybody loved and everybody feared; always ready with a blow or an oath; afraid of nothing if he set his heart upon anything. You shall see presently that he set his heart upon one thing and that he failed. For the rest, a comely, tall, and proper young man of four-and-twenty or so, whose careless dress, disordered necktie, and neglected head sufficiently indicated his habits, even if his wanton rolling eyes, loose lip, and cheeks always flushed with wine, did not loudly proclaim the manner of his life and the train of his thoughts.
When Sam was gone he turned again to the bowl.
In the morning it was reported that there had been wagers, and that a great deal of money had been won and lost. Some said that Colonel Lanyon, one of the gentlemen from London, had lost a great sum; others said that Tom Rising was the heaviest loser. I judge from what I now know that Tom Rising lost, that evening, more than his estates would bring him in a whole quarter. And I am further of opinion that Colonel Lanyon did not lose anything except a piece of paper with some figures on it, which he handed, ostentatiously proclaiming the amount, which was very large, to his honourable friend, Sir Harry Malyus, Baronet.