Joseph Wilmot, or, The Memoirs of a Man-Servant — page 345: what you’re looking at

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

332 JOSEPH WILMOT; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF A MAN-SERVANT., the two ladies continue until they rose from the table, “to take a box,” as Miss Cornwall audibly proclaimed, at one of the principal theatres. At first the ludicrous idea had struck me that they were husband-hunters, though the age of one and the appearance of the other might certainly mili- tate against the success of such speculative enter- prises. But as the discourse had progressed, I felt assured that I was mistaken; inasmuch as the Scotch dame, by her somewhat unnecessary frank- ngss, 30 completely neutralized the silly attempts of Miss Cornwall to show her off in very fine colours. The elderly lady was vain and loved flat- tery: but she was evidently too honest and blunt in her disposition, and likewise too stolidly explicit, to let her toady’s adulation always flow unchecked in its channel. I therefore came to the conclusion that I had been thrown in the way of a foolish old dame, tolerably comfortable in her circumstances, and possessing a toady whose great ambition it was to shine in the borrowed light wherewith she strove to invest her patroness. I was half in- clined to ask one of the waiters who the elderly lady was: but the idea of exhibiting any curiosity on the point struck meas something too ludicrous ; and I therefore abstained from any such inquiry. On the following day I beheld the dame, the toady, and a flauntingly dressed maid, going out in a hired carriage, evidently on a tour to visit the “lions” of Paris. In the evening of that second day, I again beheld the ladies at the table @hote: but I was careful not to take a seat near them—for I was tired of the silly discourse of Miss Cornwall. It was at the table d'hote in the evening of the third day, that I happened to sit next to an old Scotch gentleman, who had arrived in Paris in the morning on some professional business ; for in the course of conversation he informed me that he was a writer to the signet. On this occasion we sat near one extremity of the long table, while the Scotch dame and her toady sate at the other end. Thus the routine of the dinner had nearly passed before my new Scotch acquaintance had particu- larly noticed the two ladies just referred to. But all of a sudden I observed that he began to eye them—or at least one of them—with great atten- tion: he leant forward—he put up his glasses— and then he muttered to himself, “ Well, surely it must be the same ?” **Do you recognise any one whom you know ?” Tasked. “There isa countrywoman of yours at the other extremity of the table “Ah! then she is a Scotchwoman ?P” said the old gentleman inquiringly. “Yes: that I can positively declare she is! !? was my response: “for I sate next to her the day be- fore yesterday.” “And what is her name?” asked the Scotch gentleman quickly. “T really do not know,” I replied. do you take her to be ?” “Well,” rejoined the Scotchman, “even if I re- cognise her personally, I cannot for the life of me recall the name which she used to bear: and it is very probable that she now passes by another.” “Then let us ask one of the waiters,’ I sug- gested ; “and we shall learn in a minute re “No, no!” interrupted the writer to the signet : “we will de nothing of the sort :’—and then he “But whom added, more in a musing tone to himself than as if actually addressing himself to me, “ Even if my suspicion be correct, I will let the matter rest: for she behaved honourably enough to us all.” I was about to ask the gentleman whether the elderly dame was a suspicious character: but I thought that I had no right to exhibit an imper- tinent curiosity—though I must candidly confess that I had become more or less interested on the point; and I could not prevent myself from gazing upon him with a look of inquiry. “ T see,” continued the Scotch gentleman in a whispering tone, “that I have inadvertently said too much—and I must not therefore purposely say too little: for if so, I may leave unpleasant im- pressions on your mind with regard to that lady. I feel convinced that you are a young gentleman of honour; and therefore you will regard as con- fidential what I am about to tell you. Besides, [ am by no means sure that this lady is the same as the woman to whom I am about to refer; and therefore my uncertainty on the point must be an- other reason for the exercise of discretion.” “T can faithfully promise you,” I answered, “that whatsoever you tell me, shall be regarded as perfectly confidential.” “The story is brief enough, and has something ludicrous in it,’ proceeded the Scotch gentleman. “Several years ago, in Edinburgh, there was a woman—lI can’t fer the life of me recollect her name—who kept a lodging-house. It was a very respectable house; and she at the time was a buxom, good-humoured, bustling widow. The longer I look at that lady there, the more I am convinced—Well, but never mind!—let me con- tinue my story. I have already told you that I am a lawyer; and whatsoever little law business the lodging-housekeeper might have to transact, was done by me. Ina word, I was her solicitor. She was thrifty—but too good-natured, and too much inclined to believe any tale that was told her. By dint of economy she accumulated a matter of some five or six hundred pounds; and I placed it out at interest for her. On an evil day she fell in with some designing speculator, who under the fiction of projecting a new canal, was fleecing the good people of Edinburgh. Dazzled by the brilliant promises which he held out— twenty per cent. for money advanced, and all that sort of thing—the widow was determined to en- trust her little capital to the speculator. I knew not at the time that he was a rogue; and there- fore I remonstrated but feebly against the course which she sought to pursue. She confided to him the whole of her savings; and one fine morning the speculator vanished. The widow came to me in the utmost tribulation. Things had been going wrong with her. On the faith of the speculator’s promises, she had taken a larger house and had furnished it handsomely: then a tide of ill-luck had set in against her—her apartments remained unlet—her upholsterer’s bills were unpaid—she was in arrears with rent—and all her tradesmen had reason to complain that the widow, once so punctual, was now unable to satisfy their demands, Having full faith in her integrity, I advanced her a hundred pounds: but things, after being temporarily patched up, went wrong with the widow again: and one fine morning she likewise vanished ——” OOO) ‘S (C(O)