Joseph Wilmot, or, The Memoirs of a Man-Servant — page 329: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

er er OE LL LL LALA LLL LL ant ae 316 figure. This figure was clothed in an old dirty cotton gown, patched with odd pieces in divers places : a coarse apron had the corner so turned up that it descended into an angle: her sleeves were tucked up—and her great brawny arms bore un- mistakable evidence of having just emerged from a pail; so that I concluded the excellent woman had been interrupted by my summons, in the midst of some such interesting and healthy process as scrub- bing down a staircase. She had an old rusty black bonnet perched on the top of her head, just as if it had fallen there by accident; and her grizzly hair peeped forth from underneath a cap which looked as if, by mistake for the flannel, it had wiped down the very stairs she had been scrubbing. Shehada red face, a snuffy nose, and watery eyes; and the instant she opened the front door, my olfactory nerves were rendered sensible of a strong odour of the juniper berry, just as if I had mistaken the house and had knocked at the door of a wine- vaults. The aspect of this creature set me even more against the place than the external appear- ance of the dwelling itself had already done. “Can I speak to the gentleman?” I inquired, determined not to retreat without at least seeing something more of the situation for which I had thought of applying. “Well, I think as how you can,” responded the char-woman; “leastways if so be Sir Matthew isn’t a-taking of his nap.” “Pray what is the gentleman’s name ?” I asked. “ Well, I’m blessed !” cried the char-woman: and as her mouth opened wide, simultaneously with her eyes, at what she evidently deemed marvel- lous in my question, the sensation of the air being fragrant with gin was more perceptible than at first. “Pray, sir, who be you that comes to a gen’leman’s “ouse which the name is unbeknown. I rayther think, young man, you're up to nuflin ood.” 4 “Nonsense, Mrs. Tibenham!” said another elderly female, now emerging from the back part of the premises: and she was of a very different appearance from the char-woman whom she thus addressed—for she was cleanly and respectable, and had the air of a housekeeper. There was a certain degree of matronly kindness too in her looks; and as she came forward she surveyed me with a sort of respectful attention. “Excoose me, mem—but did you say nonsense ?” inquired Mrs. Tibenham indignantly. “I hope, Mrs. Hodgson mem, you will correct yourself and not imply such a hepithet to the like of me. It isn’t bekase bad times and troubles eompels me to do a little charing, and take in a little washing when I’m not engaged for the day—which is half-a-crown and my wittals, with a drop of gin and three pints of porter, besides any broken meat to take home—that you should consult a respect- able woman. There was poor Tibenham, which carried on a good business in the catsmeat and tripe-dressing line for forty year till he were called away to give a blessed account of his-self in an- other world “4 “ Well, well, Mrs. Tibenham, I did not mean to insult you, as you seem to imagine,” interrupted Mrs. Hodgson: then turning to me, she said politely, “ Might I inquire your business ?” «T have called,” I answered, “in respect to an advertisement,” Tibenham. knowed mea matter of five-and-twenty year, which was a friendship that persisted betwixt us, and ee oe een ee eee eas a ee ee ere JOSEPH WILMOT; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF A MAN-SERVANT. “ Indeed!” said Mrs. Hodgson, who had evi- dently half suspected that such was the case, but yet had been half in doubt that I was really.an applicant for the vacant situation. : “Wot adwertisement ?” demanded Mrs. Tiben« ham, as if with the indignation of one who strongly suspected that some mystery was going on into which she had not been duly and properly initiated ; so that her prescriptive rights of char-woman had all been scandalously violated by that extreme want of confidence. “ An advertisement,’ responded Mrs. Hodgson, mildly, “for a young man to take a situation here.” * And it were all unbeknown to me!” cried Mrs. * Now, Mrs. Hodgson mem, you have which you gaye me the preference in doing the charing-work; but there were no rale friendship, bekase you've kept me out of your confidence, which was undeserving by me, Mrs. Hodgson mem, and my feelin’s is hurted. It wounds me here, Mrs. Hodgson—here, mem, in my buzzim :” and what with the influence of those afflicted feelings and of the gin, the poor char-woman, seemed mightily affected as she placed her dirty hand upon that region within which the heart existed. “ Will you walk in,” said the housekeeper to me, “and speak to Sir Matthew Heseltine? He is disengaged, and will see you at once.” I passed by Mrs. Tibenham, receiving a good stare from her watery eyes and a good puff of juniper fragrance from her mouth; and I was ushered by Mrs. Hodgson into a small back room ‘fitted up asa library or a study, with numerous mouldy-looking books and very old-fashioned furni« ture. In a large arm-chair sat a gentleman, whose age could not have been much less than seventy and whose form was so emaciated that he looked like a living atomy. He wore a black silk skull- cap, around which his silvery hair formed a scanty fringe. His face was colourless—unless indeed it were somewhat sallow: his features were angular and sharp—his mouth going in through loss of teeth. And yet there was no absence of anima- tion in that countenance. On the contrary, it seemed all alive with a peculiar viperish keenness of look, and with an expression habitually mis- trustful and suspicious. It was not altogether a severe expression, but certainly a most unprepos- sessing one. The eyes, small and bright, appeared literally to speak when fixed scrutinizingly on any one who became the object of their regards: they seemed resolved to drag out all the secrets and the hidden purposes of the soul of whomsoever they thus rested upon. No—not rested upon; but pierced through and through. And this strange- looking figure was clad in a somewhat rusty suit of black, with a white cravat, which, as well as the shirt, had either been very ill-washed, or had been worn from the middle of the preceding week. Less and less did I like the aspect of the situation which, from the terms of the advertisement, I had at first thought would suit me so well. Mrs. Hodgson, the housekeeper, having ushered me into the room, retired without speaking a word ; and for upwards of a minute did Sir Matthew Heseltine regard me fixedly. As those horric- | <S Giyoo (CO) im