Part 18

"Now, Mr Crabbin," said his wife, as she still fondled the children, "you must send to-morrow for the others, that I may see them; for I long to show them that I shall be as kind to them as would have been their own mother."

"The never such another woman is to be found in all Christendom!" muttered Caleb.

"Jenny," cried Mrs Crabbin, "bring cups here, that the children may have their tea."

And so the cups were brought; and the whole group, Mrs Reddie--whose mouth had been closed up by the effect of the extraordinary scene--included, sat down in the most perfect harmony.

On the very next day, a messenger was sent off for Master George Reddie Crabbin, Miss Amelia Reddie Crabbin, and Master Augustus Reddie Crabbin; and they were expected to arrive at the house of their father within three days afterwards. Meanwhile, Mrs Crabbin displayed still the same degree of kindness she had at first exhibited; and Caleb continued to wonder more and more at conduct that seemed to set at defiance all the matrimonial maxims he had got proved to him by the many women he had solicited to become his wife. Nor can there be a doubt that he was pleased--if, indeed, it might not be said that he was delighted; for it cannot be denied that the weight of the secret he had carried about had materially interfered with his connubial happiness; and even the light of the honeymoon had been dashed with streaks of shade, thrown up from the cavern where the dread fact had lain concealed.

On the day on which the additional children were expected, Mrs Crabbin was occupied in making preparations for their home-coming. A thousand little matters were gone about with maternal assiduity; and, everything having been arranged, the couple and the three children sat down to tea, much in the same spirit they had done on the previous occasion. It was about five o'clock; and the coach would arrive somewhere about that time.

"Here they come at last," said Caleb, as he listened to a tread of many steps on the stair, accompanied by the clear clack of the tongues of happy children.

And, to be sure, in they came; but there happened to be no fewer than five, accompanied by an old nurse; and they had no sooner entered, than they ran forward to Mrs Crabbin, crying out "Mamma! mamma! mamma!" all together, and hanging round her neck, and kissing her, and climbing on her knees, just in the same affectionate manner that had been exhibited by Mr Crabbin's children on the prior occasion.

Meanwhile, Mrs Jemima Crabbin was busy with the face of Mr Caleb, to see what she could find there; but the man, who never had any great sense of justice, showed no smile, as she had done when _his_ children came so unexpectedly in upon her. A sombre gloom covered his face, and he sat and looked as glum as he did on every occasion when Mrs Amelia Crabbin had brought him a child; and, probably, if there had been any deeper shade, or rather five times as deep as that expression, it would have found a place upon his face.

"Are all these your children, madam?" said Caleb, with a voice that expressed with the question a tendency to choke.

"Yes," answered Mrs Crabbin; "but you see, my dear sir, you beat me; for, while I have only five, you have six."

"Eleven of a family to support on two thousand pounds of principal, at four per cent., and one hundred and fifty per annum on the life of Mrs Jemima Crabbin!" groaned Mr Caleb. "A deuced poor trafficker I am proved to be! Would I not have been better as a hosier?"

"A hosier!" ejaculated Mrs Crabbin. "I took you for a gentleman, as Mr Frederick Bowsie was, every inch of him."

"And I took you for a solitary widow, as you led me to believe," responded he.

"And so, to be sure, I took you for a solitary widower, carrying the key of your house in your pocket, as you previously told me," was the just reply.

At this juncture the conversation was interrupted by the entrance of the other three Crabbins, who acted over again the scene of their brothers and sister; and thus there were brought on the carpet no fewer than eleven of a family, one-half strangers to their half-brothers and sisters, and all talking, and laughing, and romping in a manner that might have afforded no small joy to well-conditioned parents. Yet Mr Caleb was not to be cajoled by their fun into anything like good humour, for no man likes to behold the evidence of the almost total defeat of a darling project, which he had held to be the pride and profit of his existence. Nor was the bringing of eight more tea-cups, instantly ordered by Mrs Crabbin, likely to effect what the romping of the "dear ones" had not been able to accomplish; and it is impossible to say how long he would have remained under the cloud of his gloom, had not Mrs Crabbin risen, and, going round to him by the backs of the circle of children, gently and playfully clapped him on the hanging clouded cheek.

"Come, now, Mr Crabbin," said she, "you see we are just in the position of the pot and kettle that fell into warfare, calling each other blackamores. You have cheated me, and I have cheated you, and therefore are we on a par. No good can come of complaining where each has so good a rejoinder; and, to be plain with you, if you gloom, I'll gloom, having just as good a right; whereas, if you are well pleased, and love my five, I shall be well pleased, and love your six; and thus we may make the best of a bad bargain. What say you, Mr Caleb Crabbin?"

Caleb threw his eye around the table, and groaned; but necessity is a strong monitor; and so he turned round--where there was a matrimonial kiss awaiting him--and, having taken the offering for better and for worse--

"I believe, Jemima, you are right, after all," said he; "but still it is a bad business; for, if we add five or six more children to that small army, we may come to starve."

"You can begin business again as a merchant (but not in the hosiery way) with your two thousand, and I shall be as frugal a wife as ever made the two ends of coming and going out meet."

Caleb meditated.

"You are right again, Jemima," said he; "for, after all, I have not been happy under the trade of wiving I have driven for so many years--always idle, and pointed out as one who lives on the means of his wives--so, to be sure, I'll immediately betake myself to an honourable calling, and before I die I may yet acquire the reputation of what is called a respectable member of society. For true it is," he added, "that a fortune-hunter, even if he has run down the game of thousands, is only a fortune-hunter to the end of the chapter. Out of my evil, you see, has come my good; and you, who a little ago seemed my bad angel, have turned out to be my good. So here be all our strife ended."

And another embrace settled the affair.

"Now," said Caleb, "you'll be kind enough to tell me the names of these children. By my faith, they are pretty ones--as pretty as my own!"

"This is William--this is George--this is Andrew--this is Mary--and this is Margaret."

"Well, we must fall upon some way of distinguishing those of mine and those of yours, who carry the same name. Let it be your George and my George, your Andrew and my Andrew. I see now no difficulty about the matter."

"Neither do I," answered Jemima. "All we have to provide against is to avoid calling our own _mutual_ children George or Andrew, for a third of the name wouldn't do."

"Neither it would," rejoined he.

According to these arrangements, Mr Crabbin commenced business again; and, having been taught experience by his former failure, did very well. We believe there were at least two or three additional children born afterwards; but that was of no consequence, because Mr Crabbin's means became, by his own industry, proportionate. A good lesson hangeth by the peg of our tale, or we are somewhat out.

THE SERJEANT'S TALES.

THE IMPRUDENT MARRIAGE.

Serjeant Square again resumed the narrative of his adventures:--

There is a strange feeling, that every reflecting person must have often been conscious of, accompanying the idea of time. We feel as if in contact with the past, as far back as our memory can reach. If our reading has been extensive, it requires reflection to disentangle the events of early ages, as well as those of a more recent date; and, even as regards the time to come, we feel as if it also were for us, until the melancholy certainty of the shortness of life forces us back upon the present moment, which, until passed, we cannot call our own. Neither is there a situation in which we can be placed, in which we do not feel some cause of uneasiness, from the faintest shade of unfulfilled anticipation, to the depth of real suffering.

Gloomy were the reflections that haunted my mind for the first three weeks after my arrival in London. Often and far as I had been from Scotland, never until now had I been home-sick--if it could be called so in one who had neither kindred nor home in the world. Destitute of kindred as I was, the feeling seemed to extend my relationship: every Scotchman being my relation, and his accents music to my ears. An unaccountable melancholy was upon me; and I felt a strange presentiment as if some evil were about to befall me. I felt no pleasure, as I was wont, in walking about. My time was spent at my lodgings, in Lower Thames Street, save when I went occasionally to the neighbourhood of Covent Garden, to visit Captain H----. Even these visits had become irksome, as no good seemed likely to arise to me from them. I was always received in the most friendly manner. Still there was a constraint upon me I could not overcome, arising from the relative situation in which we had formerly stood towards each other as private seaman and captain. I would have felt far more at my ease had he treated me in a more distant manner. Frugal as my mode of life was, my cash wore done apace, and I had fixed upon no mode of obtaining a new supply. Once or twice I had made inquiries among the shipping for a situation, without success. Perhaps the fault was my own, as I was rather nice to please, and not over anxious to go to sea if I could do better. I hoped that the captain or his friend would propose something for my advantage; and thus the time had run on, while my lowness of spirits increased upon me. The weather had become wet and foggy. I cared not to leave the house, and remained at home for several days, so depressed that I even wished I were dead, and away from a world in which I had suffered so much. The pleasures I had also enjoyed were entirely blotted out from my recollection. All my life appeared to have been a scene of suffering, with no prospect before me but further misery and endurance.

This was a state of mind that could not long endure without leading to a fatal result. I began to regard suicide as the only remedy for my misery; and even to look upon it as a crime of no very deep atrocity. Yet there was a feeling within me that made death as a remedy horrible. At length, by an effort that cost me more to accomplish than anything I had ever done before or since, I shook off this, the darkest moral incubus of the darkest period of my life, and, after an absence of ten days, waited upon Captain H---- to bid him farewell, as I was resolved to leave London, and enter on board the first vessel wherever bound for, and in any capacity I could obtain a berth. When I reached the house, I found it shut up, and could obtain no information whither he had gone. All I learned was, that they had left the house three days before, it was believed for the country. I felt indignant and hurt, although I had no reason, at this sudden departure. I had no claim upon him. I had ever been overpaid for any service I had rendered. Still, this was not my feeling at the time; and I bent my steps towards my lodgings in no enviable mood, either with myself or the world. A numbing sensation was upon me. I felt once more alone in the world; and passed through the busy crowds that thronged the streets, almost unconscious of the presence of a human being, until I had reached Tower Hill, when my attention was roused by a crowd of men and boys, who were hooting and jostling an old man of rather respectable appearance, whose impatient anger caused them only to increase their shouts and annoyance. They were calling to him, "Rebel Scot," and "Scottish traitor;" and crying, "Roll him in the kennel," "Duck him in the river." I was in a humour to quarrel with any one, or even dare a host. My blood was on fire in a moment, for the old man upbraided them in Scotch, although tinctured by a foreign accent. He was tall, and had once been a very powerful man. His hat had been knocked off, and his grey hairs were in disorder, save what were retained by a neat cue that bobbed from side to side, as he was pushed, or turned to aim a blow at his cowardly assailants, many of whom, I blush to say, had reached man's estate. In an instant I was by his side, and shouted, to overtop the noise--

"For shame, to use an old man and a stranger so! Is that like Englishmen?"

For a moment there was a pause; it was but for a moment. My Scottish accent turned them as much against me as him whom I wished to befriend.

"They are both rebel Scots--serve them alike!" shouted a stout young fellow, as he aimed a blow at me. The others joined in the cry. The blow took effect upon the side of my head. I was stunned a little; but returned it with so good effect that he staggered back a pace or two. The blood flowed from my cheek, which was cut, pretty fast. In a moment the shouting ceased, and "A ring! a ring!" was the cry. "Give the Scottish sailor fair play--he has pluck in him." "Go it, Joe!" cried others; and their attention was directed from the old man to me and my opponent. A ring was formed. I gave my jacket and hat to the old man to hold, and to it we went; but, tall as I was and stout, I was forced to give in after a severe contest; my enemy's science prevailed; but my object was attained. The old man and myself were no longer hated. "I was a bit of good stuff," they said, "and had stood well up to fighting Joe of Smithfield." Even Joe said he would give any one a beating who molested us. We were conducted to a public-house, where I got myself cleaned and my bruises dressed. The old gentleman gave me a thousand thanks for the part I had taken in his rescue, and seemed to feel much more for the injuries I had received than I did myself. As soon as we had had some slight refreshment, he caused a coach to be brought, and accompanied me to my lodgings. During our short drive, I learned that he had only arrived from Holland the evening before, and was a stranger in London. He said he had resided for the last ten years there; that he had not been in Scotland for many years; and that he was on his way to it to lay his bones in the graves of his fathers. There was a reservedness of manner that interested me much in the man; and every time I looked to him, I grew the more certain that his face had been familiar to me at some former period of my life. Even his voice fell on my ear like some well-known sound. Neither of us had inquired the name of the other. The coach stopped at the door of my lodging, into which he assisted me; and I immediately went to bed at his request, he promising to call upon me in the morning.

After passing a restless night, I was awoke in the morning by my landlady entering my room to inquire if I would see Lieutenant Speare, the old gentleman who had accompanied me home the evening before. Although I felt rather feverish, I replied that I would be glad to see him. In a few minutes I was astonished to see him enter in an undress, until he informed me that he had been so fortunate as to obtain a room from my landlady; and, if I was agreeable, he wished to breakfast along with me and spend the day, as I was not, he felt assured, in a state to leave my room. I did not conceal that I felt very unwell, and would be happy to have his company. After he was seated, I inquired by what accident he had become involved with the rabble upon Tower Hill. After a short pause--

"You and I," replied he, "are countrymen, but strangers to each other. From the disinterested manner in which you interfered in my behalf, I feel that I may trust you with my secret. Even if we differ in opinion, you will not betray me; I therefore shall make no reserve.

"I was born and bred an adherent of the exiled royal family of Great Britain; have bled in their cause; suffered exile from all I held dear; and even now I tread my native land with a halter about my neck, which one word from you might attach to the fatal tree that has ceased to have any horrors for me, were it not for a sacred duty I have to perform before death put a period to my long life of suffering. Yesterday afternoon I had only been a few hours in London, for the first time in my life; yet its gloomy Tower, and blood-drinking Tower Hill, had long been familiar to my mind, as scenes of cruelty and tyranny, where the best blood of Scotland was poured out like water to satisfy the thirst of a usurper. I had surveyed the scene for some time in silent agony, when my oppressed feelings called before me the heroes, as I had seen and admired them, in manly vigour, struggling in a righteous cause, with the sad termination they experienced, when their headless trunks were insulted by an unfeeling crowd. All caution left me, and I expressed my thoughts aloud. I was overheard and assailed. You delivered me. I acknowledge my imprudence; and, on your account, lament what I have done."

"On my account there is no cause of regret," said I. "I am happy your unguarded language had no more fatal result. Your secret is safe in my keeping. I myself have been a sufferer through that fatal affair, although too young to distinguish between parties; for the miseries of civil war fall heaviest upon the innocent, the females and children. By it I was deprived of both my parents, and thrown destitute upon the world, without friends or home. If the great will struggle, urged by ambition or party zeal, what have the poor to do with their strife, who can, at the best, only change their taskmasters? Had my father remained in Edinburgh, my mother had not broken her heart, and I had not been an outcast orphan boy."

"Edinburgh, did you say, young man?" replied he. "Few joined the Prince from that city." His voice faltered; his whole frame shook. He gazed fixedly upon me for a short time; then, starting to his feet, he staggered to my bedside, supporting himself by the bedpost. "What is your name?" he eagerly said.

"John Square," I replied.

Uttering a cry that resembled a heavy groan, he sunk upon the bed, and, grasping my hand, bathed it with tears; then, clasping me to his breast, kissed my forehead. His heart was too full to speak; he held me in his embrace, and gazed upon my face. I was so much amazed at the strange conduct of the old man, that it was some time before I recovered from my surprise, or could inquire the cause of his, to me, unaccountable proceeding. Still grasping my hand--

"Now, welcome death!" said he. "My mission is accomplished. I shall die in peace. I have found thee, my long-forsaken and injured boy."

It was now my turn to feel the utmost agitation. Did my father really stand before me? I feared to ask the question, yet burned to do so.

"Are you my father?" cried I.

"Alas! no! I am not your father," said he. "Yet I am all the father you ever knew; and you were, and are, dear to me as my own son. Ah, my poor Mary!--she was a kind mother to you. Told she not the secret of your birth before she died?"

"No," was my answer. "I was too young and thoughtless at the time. I recollect she called me to her bedside often, and wept over me; but she only prayed, and blessed me. She sent one of her neighbours, who was very attentive, for the minister to come to her, saying she had something important to intrust him with; but, before he arrived, her mind began to wander, and she remained in that condition until her death, two days after. She had even forgot she had sent for the good man, who, after offering up a prayer, departed." I paused, for the old man wept bitterly while I spake. I did respect his feelings; but my own were too impetuous to be restrained. "Who was my father, since you are not?" cried I. "Is he alive? If you ever loved me, pause not a moment. Nay, I shall tear the secret from you." And I started up in my bed, sore as I was, and looked wildly at him, as he appeared to hesitate.