Part 52 (1/2)

The months of January and February slowly wore themselves away, and during the whole of that time Margaret saw her cousin but once, and then she met him at Mr Slow's chambers. She had gone there to sign some doc.u.ment, and there she had found him. She had then been told that she would certainly lose her cause. No one who had looked into the matter had any doubt of that. It certainly was the case that Jonathan Ball had bequeathed property which was not his at the time he made the will, but which at the time of his death, in fact, absolutely belonged to his nephew, John Ball. Old Mr Slow, as he explained this now for the seventh or eighth time, did it without a tone of regret in his voice, or a sign of sorrow in his eye. Margaret had become so used to the story now, that it excited no strong feelings within her. Her wish, she said, was, that the matter should be settled. The lawyer, with almost a smile on his face, but still shaking his head, said that he feared it could not be settled before the end of April. John Ball sat by, leaning his face, as usual, upon his umbrella, and saying nothing. It did, for a moment, strike Miss Mackenzie as singular, that she should be reduced from affluence to absolute nothingness in the way of property, in so very placid a manner. Mr Slow seemed to be thinking that he was, upon the whole, doing rather well for his client.

”Of course you understand, Miss Mackenzie, that you can have any money you require for your present personal wants.”

This had been said to her so often, that she took it as one of Mr Slow's legal formulas, which meant nothing to the laity.

On that occasion also Mr Ball walked home with her, and was very eloquent about the law's delays. He also seemed to speak as though there was nothing to be regretted by anybody, except the fact that he could not get possession of the property as quick as he wished. He said not a word of anything else, and Margaret, of course, submitted to be talked to by him rather than to talk herself. Of Lady Ball's visit he said not a word, nor did she. She asked after the children, and especially after Jack. One word she did say:

”I had hoped Jack would have come to see me at my lodgings.”

”Perhaps he had better not,” said Jack's father, ”till all is settled. We have had much to trouble us at home since my father's death.”

Then of course she dropped that subject. She had been greatly startled on that day on hearing her cousin called Sir John by Mr Slow. Up to that moment it had never occurred to her that the man of whom she was so constantly thinking as her possible husband was a baronet. To have been Mrs Ball seemed to her to have been possible; but that she should become Lady Ball was hardly possible. She wished that he had not been called Sir John. It seemed to her to be almost natural that people should be convinced of the impropriety of such a one as her becoming the wife of a baronet.

During this period she saw her sister-in-law once or twice, who on those occasions came down to Arundel Street. She herself would not go to Gower Street, because of the presence of Miss Colza. Miss Colza still continued to live there, and still continued very much in arrear in her contributions to the household fund. Mrs Mackenzie did not turn her out, because she would,--so she said,--in such case get nothing. Mrs Tom was by this time quite convinced that the property would, either justly or unjustly, go into the hands of John Ball, and she was therefore less anxious to make any sacrifice to please her sister-in-law.

”I'm sure I don't see why you should be so bitter against her,” said Mrs Tom. ”I don't suppose she told the clergyman a word that wasn't true.”

Miss Mackenzie declined to discuss the subject, and a.s.sured Mrs Tom that she only recommended the banishment of Miss Colza because of her apparent unwillingness to pay.

”As for the money,” said Mrs Tom, ”I expect Mr Rubb to see to that. I suppose he intends to make her Mrs Rubb sooner or later.”

Miss Mackenzie, having some kindly feeling towards Mr Rubb, would have preferred to hear that Miss Colza was likely to become Mrs Maguire. During these visits, Mrs Tom got more than one five-pound note from her sister-in-law, pleading the difficulty she had in procuring breakfast for lodgers without any money for the baker.

Margaret protested against these encroachments, but, still, the money would be forthcoming.

Once, towards the end of February, Mrs Buggins seduced her lodger down into her parlour in the area, and Miss Mackenzie thought she perceived that something of the old servant's manners had returned to her. She was more respectful than she had been of late, and made no attempts at smart, ill-natured speeches.

”It's a weary life, Miss, this you're living here, isn't it?” said she.

Margaret said that it was weary, but that there could be no change till the lawsuit should be settled. It would be settled, she hoped, in April.

”Bother it for a lawsuit,” said Mrs Buggins. ”They all tells me that it ain't any lawsuit at all, really.”

”It's an amicable lawsuit,” said Miss Mackenzie.

”I never see such amicableness! 'Tis a wonder to hear, Miss, how everybody is talking about it everywheres. Where we was last night--that is, Buggins and I--most respectable people in the copying line--it isn't only he as does the copying, but she too; nurses the baby, and minds the kitchen fire, and goes on, sheet after sheet, all at the same time; and a very tidy thing they make of it, only they do straggle their words so;--well, they were saying as it's one of the most remarkablest cases as ever was know'd.”

”I don't see that I shall be any the better because it's talked about.”

”Well, Miss Margaret, I'm not so sure of that. It's my belief that if one only gets talked about enough, one may have a'most anything one chooses to ask for.”

”But I don't want to ask for anything.”

”But if what we heard last night is all true, there's somebody else that does want to ask for something, or, as has asked, as folks say.”

Margaret blushed up to the eyes, and then protested that she did not know what Mrs Buggins meant.

”I never dreamed of it, my dear; indeed, I didn't, when the old lady come here with her tantrums; but now, it's as plain as a pikestaff.