Part 21 (1/2)
”G.o.d be praised for all things,” says he, devoutly. ”Tell me he's an Englishman, Kit--as Moll did seem to think he was, spite his foreign name--and my joy's complete.”
”As true-born an Englishman as you are,” says I.
”Lord love him for it!” cries he.
Then coming down to particulars, I related the events of the past few days pretty much as I have writ them here, showing in the end how Mr.
G.o.dwin would have gone away, unknown rather than profit by his claim as Sir Richard G.o.dwin's kinsman, even though Moll should be no better than old Simon would have him believe, upon which he cries, ”Lord love him for it, say I again! Let us drink to their health. Drink deep, Kit, for I've a fancy that no man shall put his lips to this mug after us.”
So I drank heartily, and he, emptying the jug, flung it behind the chimney, with another fervent e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n of grat.i.tude. Then a shade of sorrow falling on his face as he lay it in his hand, his elbow resting on the table:
”I'd give best half of the years I've got to live,” says he, ”to see 'em together, and grasp Mr. G.o.dwin's hand in mine. But I'll not be tempted to it, for I perceive clearly enough by what you tell me that my wayward tongue and weakness have been undoing us all, and ruining my dear Moll's chance of happiness. But tell me, Kit” (straightening himself up), ”how think you this marriage will touch our affairs?”
”Only to better them. For henceforth our prosperity is a.s.sured, which otherwise might have lacked security.”
”Aye, to be sure, for now shall we be all in one family with these G.o.dwins, and this cousin, profiting by the estate as much as Moll, will never begrudge her giving us a hundred or two now and then, for rendering him such good service.”
”'Twill appease Moll's compunctions into the bargain,” says I, heedlessly.
”What compunctions?”
”The word slipped me unintended,” stammers I; ”I mean nothing.”
”But something your word must mean. Come, out with it, Kit.”
”Well,” says I, ”since this fondness has possessed her, I have observed a greater compunction to telling of lies than she was wont to have.”
”'Tis my fault,” answers he, sadly. ”She gets this leaning to honesty from me.”
”This very morning,” continues I, ”she was, I truly believe, of two minds whether she should not confess to her sweetheart that she was not his cousin.”
”For all the world my case!” cries he, slapping the table. ”If I could only have five minutes in secret with the dear girl, I would give her a hint that should make her profit by my folly.” And then he tells me how, in the heyday of courts.h.i.+p and the flush of confiding love, he did confess to his wife that he had carried gallantry somewhat too far with Sukey Taylor, and might have added a good half dozen other names beside hers but for her sudden outcry; and how, though she might very well have suspected other amours, she did never reproach him therewith, but was for ever to her dying day a-flinging Sukey Taylor in his teeth, etc.
”Lord, Kit!” cries he, in conclusion; ”what would I give to save her from such torment! You know how obedient she is to my guiding, for I have ever studied to make her respect me; and no one in the world hath such empire over her. Could it not be contrived anyhow that we should meet for half an hour secretly?”
”Not secretly,” says I. ”But there is no reason why you should not visit her openly. Nay, it will create less surprise than if you stay away. For what could be more natural than your coming to the Court on your return from a voyage to see the lady you risked so much to save?”
”Now G.o.d bless you for a good, true friend!” cries he, clasping my hand.
”I'll come, but to stay no great length. Not a drop will I touch that day, and a fool indeed I must be if I can't act my part without bungling for a few hours at a stretch, and I a-listening every night in the parlour of the 'Spotted Dog' to old seamen swearing and singing their songs. And I'll find an opportunity to give--Moll a hint of my past folly, and so rescue her from a like pitfall. I'll abide by your advice, Kit,--which is the wisest I ever heard from your lips.”
But I was not so sure of this, and, remembering the kind of obedience Moll had used to yield to her father's commands, my mind misgave me.
CHAPTER XXIII.
_Don Sanchez proposes a very artful way to make Mr. G.o.dwin a party to our knavery, etc._
I returned to Hurst Court the following day in the forenoon, and there I found Mr. G.o.dwin, with Moll clinging to his arm, in an upper room commanding a view of the northern slopes, discussing their future, and Moll told me with glee how this room was to be her husband's workroom, where he would paint pictures for the admiration of all the world, saying that he would not (nor would she have him) renounce his calling to lead the idle life of a country gentleman.
”If the world admire my pictures, the world shall pay to have them,”