Memoirs of Mr. Charles J. Yellowplush [47]
seemed to dixquiet him a good deal, and he made me repeat it over agin. He walked up and down the room agytated, and it seam'd as if a new lite was breaking in upon him. "Chawls," says he, "did you observe--did Miss--did my father seem PARTICULARLY INTIMATE with Miss Griffin?" "How do you mean, sir?" says I. "Did Lord Crabs appear very fond of Miss Griffin?" "He was suttnly very kind to her." "Come, sir, speak at once: did Miss Griffin seem very fond of his lordship?" "Why, to tell the truth, sir, I must say she seemed VERY fond of him." "What did he call her?" "He called her his dearest gal." "Did he take her hand?" "Yes, and he--" "And he what?" "He kist her, and told her not to be so wery down-hearted about the misfortn which had hapnd to you." "I have it now!" says he, clinching his fist, and growing gashly pail--"I have it now--the infernal old hoary scoundrel! the wicked, unnatural wretch! He would take her from me!" And he poured out a volley of oaves which are impossbill to be repeatid here. I thot as much long ago: and when my lord kem with his vizits so pretious affeckshnt at my Lady Griffinses, I expected some such game was in the wind. Indeed, I'd heard a somethink of it from the Griffinses servnts, that my lord was mighty tender with the ladies. One thing, however, was evident to a man of his intleckshal capassaties; he must either marry the gal at onst, or he stood very small chance of having her. He must get out of limbo immediantly, or his respectid father might be stepping into his vaykint shoes. Oh! he saw it all now--the fust attempt at arest, the marridge fixt at 12 o'clock, and the bayliffs fixt to come and intarup the marridge!--the jewel, praps, betwigst him and De l'Orge: but no, it was the WOMAN who did that--a MAN don't deal such fowl blows, igspecially a father to his son: a woman may, poar thing!--she's no other means of reventch, and is used to fight with underhand wepns all her life through. Well, whatever the pint might be, this Deuceace saw pretty clear that he'd been beat by his father at his own game--a trapp set for him onst, which had been defitted by my presnts of mind--another trap set afterwids, in which my lord had been suxesfle. Now, my lord, roag as he was, was much too good-natured to do an unkind ackshn, mearly for the sake of doing it. He'd got to that pich that he didn't mind injaries--they were all fair play to him--he gave 'em, and reseav'd them, without a thought of mallis. If he wanted to injer his son, it was to benefick himself. And how was this to he done? By getting the hairiss to himself, to be sure. The Honrabble Mr. D. didn't say so; but I knew his feelinx well enough--he regretted that he had not given the old genlmn the money he askt for. Poar fello! he thought he had hit it; but he was wide of the mark after all. Well, but what was to be done? It was clear that he must marry the gal at any rate--cootky coot, as the French say: that is, marry her, and hang the igspence. To do so he must first git out of prisn--to get out of prisn he must pay his debts--and to pay his debts, he must give every shilling he was worth. Never mind: four thousand pound is a small stake to a reglar gambler, igspecially when he must play it, or rot for life in prisn; and when, if he plays it well, it will give him ten thousand a year. So, seeing there was no help for it, he maid up his mind, and accordingly wrote the follying letter to Miss Griffin:--
"MY ADORED MATILDA,--Your letter has indeed been a comfort to a poor fellow, who had hoped that this night would have been the most blessed in his life, and now finds himself condemned to spend it within a prison wall! You know the accursed conspiracy which has brought these liabilities upon me, and the foolish friendship which has cost me so much. But what matters! We have, as you say, enough, even though I must pay this shameful demand upon me; and five thousand pounds are as nothing, compared to the happiness which I lose in being separated a night from thee! Courage, however! If I make a sacrifice it is for you; and I
"MY ADORED MATILDA,--Your letter has indeed been a comfort to a poor fellow, who had hoped that this night would have been the most blessed in his life, and now finds himself condemned to spend it within a prison wall! You know the accursed conspiracy which has brought these liabilities upon me, and the foolish friendship which has cost me so much. But what matters! We have, as you say, enough, even though I must pay this shameful demand upon me; and five thousand pounds are as nothing, compared to the happiness which I lose in being separated a night from thee! Courage, however! If I make a sacrifice it is for you; and I