Memoirs of Mr. Charles J. Yellowplush [54]
open the door by which she had gone out. "Keep your temper, my boy. You ARE vexed, and I feel for you: but don't use such bad language: it is quite needless, believe me." "Matilda!" shouted out Deuceace again; and the poor crooked thing came trembling in, followed by Miss Kicksey. "Is this true, woman?" says he, clutching hold of her hand. "What, dear Algernon?" says she. "What?" screams out Deuceace,--"what? Why that you are a beggar, for marrying without your mother's consent--that you basely lied to me, in order to bring about this match--that you are a swindler, in conspiracy with that old fiend yonder and the she-devil his wife?" "It is true," sobbed the poor woman, "that I have nothing; but--" "Nothing but what? Why don't you speak, you drivelling fool?" "I have nothing!--but you, dearest, have two thousand a year. Is that not enough for us? You love me for myself, don't you, Algernon? You have told me so a thousand times--say so again, dear husband; and do not, do not be so unkind." And here she sank on her knees, and clung to him, and tried to catch his hand, and kiss it. "How much did you say?" says my lord. "Two thousand a year, sir; he has told us so a thousand times." "TWO THOUSAND! Two thou--ho, ho, ho!--haw! haw! haw!" roars my lord. "That is, I vow, the best thing I ever heard in my life. My dear creature, he has not a shilling--not a single maravedi, by all the gods and goddesses." And this exlnt noblemin began laffin louder than ever: a very kind and feeling genlmn he was, as all must confess. There was a paws: and Mrs. Deuceace didn begin cussing and swearing at her husband as he had done at her: she only said, "O Algernon! is this true?" and got up, and went to a chair and wep in quiet. My lord opened the great box. "If you or your lawyers would like to examine Sir George's will, it is quite at your service; you will see here the proviso which I mentioned, that gives the entire fortune to Lady Griffin--Lady Crabs that is: and here, my dear boy, you see the danger of hasty conclusions. Her ladyship only showed you the FIRST PAGE OF THE WILL, of course; she wanted to try you. You thought you made a great stroke in at once proposing to Miss Griffin--do not mind it, my love, he really loves you now very sincerely!--when, in fact, you would have done much better to have read the rest of the will. You were completely bitten, my boy-- humbugged, bamboozled--ay, and by your old father, you dog. I told you I would, you know, when you refused to lend me a portion of your Dawkins money. I told you I would; and I DID. I had you the very next day. Let this be a lesson to you, Percy my boy; don't try your luck again against such old hands: look deuced well before you leap: audi alteram partem, my lad, which means, read both sides of the will. I think lunch is ready; but I see you don't smoke. Shall we go in?" "Stop, my lord," says Mr. Deuceace, very humble: "I shall not share your hospitality--but--but you know my condition; I am penniless-- you know the manner in which my wife has been brought up--" "The Honorable Mrs. Deuceace, sir, shall always find a home here, as if nothing had occurred to interrupt the friendship between her dear mother and herself." "And for me, sir," says Deuceace, speaking faint, and very slow; "I hope--I trust--I think, my lord, you will not forget me?" "Forget you, sir; certainly not." "And that you will make some provision--?" "Algernon Deuceace," says my lord, getting up from the sophy, and looking at him with sich a jolly malignity, as I never see, "I declare, before heaven, that I will not give you a penny!" Hereupon my lord held out his hand to Mrs. Deuceace, and said, "My dear, will you join your mother and me? We shall always, as I said, have a home for you." "My lord," said the poar thing, dropping a curtsy, "my home is with HIM!" . . . . . . About three months after, when the season was beginning at Paris, and the autumn leafs was on the ground, my lord, my lady, me and Mortimer, were taking a stroal in the Boddy Balong,