A Set of Rogues

  CHAPTER XX.

  _Of Moll's ill humour and what befel thereby._

  Feeling, in the absence of Dawson, that I stood in the position of aguardian to his daughter, and was responsible for her welfare, my mindgrew very uneasy about the consequences of her extravagant admirationfor the painter; and, knowing that Don Sanchez, despite his phlegmatichumour, loved Moll very sincerely at heart, I took him aside one day,and asked him if he had observed nothing particular in Moll's behaviourof late.

  "One would be blind," says he, "not to see that she is enamoured ofDario, if that's what you mean."

  I admitted that my suspicions inclined that way, and, explaining myconcern on her behalf, I asked him what he would do in my place.

  "In my country," says he, "matters never would have been suffered to goso far, and Mistress Judith would have been shut up a prisoner in herroom these past three weeks. But I doubt if our maidens are any thesafer or better for such treatment, and I am quite sure that suchtreatment would be worse than useless for an English girl, andespecially such an one as this. For, guard her how you might, she wouldassuredly find means to break her prison, and then no course is open toher but to throw herself in the arms of the man she loves, trusting tomere accident whether he abuses her devotion or not. You might as wellstrive to catch the wind and hold it as stay and stem the course ofyouthful passion."

  "Aye, Senor," says I, "this may be all very true. But what should you doin my place?"

  "Nothing," says he.

  This was a piece of advice which set me scratching my head indubitation.

  "Beware," continues he, "how you suggest the thing you fear to one whoneeds but a hint to act. I have great faith in the natural modesty ofwomen (and I do think no child more innocent than Mistress Judith),which, though it blind them to their danger, does, at the same time,safeguard them against secret and illicit courses of more fatalconsequences. Let her discourse with him, openly, since it pleases her.In another fortnight or so Dario's work will be finished, he will goaway, our young lady will shed secret tears and be downcast for a week.Then another swain will please her, and she'll smile again. That, as Itake it, will be the natural order of events, unless," adds he, "thatnatural order is disturbed by some external influence."

  Maugre this sage advice, my concern being unabated, I would step prettyfrequently into the room where these young people were, as if to see howthe work was going forward, and with such a quick step that had anyinterchange of amorous sentiments existed, I must at one time or anotherhave discovered it. But I never detected any sign of this--no bashfulsilence, no sudden confusion, or covert interchange of glances.Sometimes they would be chatting lightly, at others both would bestanding silent, she, maybe, holding a bunch of leaves with untiringsteadfastness, for him to copy. But I observed that she was exceedinglyjealous of his society, and no matter how glibly she was talking when Ientered, or how indifferent the subject, she would quickly becomesilent, showing me very plainly by her manner that she would vastlyprefer my room to my company.

  Still, I was not displeased when I perceived this fresco drawing near toits completion.

  "You are getting on apace," says I, very cheerfully one day. "I reckonyou will soon have done."

  "Yes," answers he, "in a week I shall have nought to do but to pack upmy tools and go." There was an accent of sorrow in his voice, despitehimself, which did not escape me nor Moll neither, for I saw her casther eyes upon his face, as if to read if there were sadness there. Butshe said never a word.

  However, in the afternoon she comes to me, and says she:

  "I am resolved I will have all the rooms in the house plastered, ifSignor Dario will consent to paint them."

  "All the rooms!" says I, in alarm. "Surely you have not counted the costof what you propose."

  "I suppose I have enough to keep my house in suitable condition."

  "Without doubt, though I expect such work as Signor Dario's must commanda high price."

  "All I ask of you, then," says she, "is to bid my steward have fivethousand pounds ready for my uses, and within a week, lest I should needit suddenly. Should he raise objections--"

  "As assuredly he will," says I, who knew the crafty, subtle character ofold Simon full well by, this time. "A thousand objections, and not oneyou can pick a hole in."

  "Then show him this and tell him I accept Mr. Goodman's offer unless hecan find more profitable means of raising money."

  With that she puts in my hand a letter she had that morning receivedfrom one Henry Goodman, a tenant, who having heard that she had disposedof a farm to his neighbour, now humbly prayed she would do him the samegood turn by selling him the land he rented, and for which he wasprepared to pay down in ready money the sum of five thousand pounds.

  Armed with this letter, I sought Simon and delivered Moll's message. AsI expected, the wily old man had good excuses ready for not complyingwith this request, showing me the pains he had taken to get the king'sseal, his failures to move the king's officers, and the refusal of hisgoldsmith to furnish further supplies before the deed of succession waspassed.

  "These objections are all very just," says I, "so I see no way ofpleasing our lady but by selling Mr. Goodman's farm, which she will havedone at once if there be no alternative." So I give him the letter,which he can scarce read for trembling with anguish.

  "What," cries he, coming to the end, "I am to sell this land which Ibought for nine hundred pounds and is now worth six thousand? I wouldrather my mistress had bid me have the last teeth torn from my head."

  "We must have money," says I.

  "Thee shalt have it in good time. Evans hath been paid, and thy debtshall be discharged; fear not."

  "I spoke as representing our lady; for ourselves we are content to waither better convenience." And I told him how his mistress would lay outher money in embellishing the Court with paintings, which put him to anew taking to think so much good money should be wasted in suchvanities.

  "But," says he, "this work must take time, and one pays for nothing ere'tis done. By quarter day our rents will be coming in again--"

  "No," says I, cutting him short, "the money must be found at once, or beassured that your lady will take the management of her affairs out ofyour hands."

  This raised a fresh outcry and more lamentations, but in the end hepromised to procure the money by collecting his rents in advance, if hismistress would refuse Mr. Goodman's offer and wait three weeks; and onMoll's behalf I agreed to these terms.

  A few days after this, we were called into the dining-hall to see thefinished ceiling, which truly deserved all the praise we could bestowupon it, and more. For now that the sky appeared through the opening,with a little pearly cloud creeping across it, the verdure and flowersfalling over the marble coping, and the sunlight falling on one side andthrowing t'other into shade, the illusion was complete, so that onecould scarcely have been more astonished had a leaf fallen from thehanging flowers or a face looked over the balcony. In short; 'twasprodigious.

  Nevertheless, the painter, looking up at his work with half-closed,critical eyes, seemed dissatisfied, and asking us if we found nothinglacking, we (not to appear behindhand in judgment) agreed that on oneside there was a vacant place which might yet be adorned to advantage.

  "Yes," says he, "I see what is wanted and will supply it. That," addshe; gently turning to Moll, "will give me still another day."

  "Why, what charm can you add that is not there?" asks she.

  "Something," says he, in a low voice, "which I must see whenever I docast my eyes heavenwards."

  And now Moll, big with her purpose, which she had hitherto withheld fromDario, begs him to come into her state room, and there she told how shewould have this ceiling plastered over and painted, like herdining-hall, if he would undertake to do it.

  Dario casts his eye round the room and over the ceiling, and then,shaking his head, says: "If I were in your place, I would alter nothinghere."

  "But I will have it altered," says she, nettled
, because he did not leapat once at her offer, which was made rather to prolong their communionthan to obtain a picture. "I detest these old-fashioned beams of wood."

  "They are in keeping with the character of the room. I think," adds he,looking round him again with renewed admiration, "I think I have neverseen a more perfect example of English art."

  "What of that," cries she, "if it pleases me to have it otherwise?"

  "Nothing," returns he, calmly. "You have as just a right to stand byyour opinion as I by mine."

  "And am I to understand that you will rather hold by your opinion thangive me pleasure?"

  "I pray you, do not press me to discourtesy," says he.

  "Nay, but I would have a plain answer to my question," says she,haughtily.

  "Then," says he, angering in his turn, "I must tell you that I would assoon chip an antique statue to suit the taste of a French modiste asdisfigure the work of him who designed this room."

  Now, whether Moll took this to be a reflection on her own figure, whichhad grown marvellous slim in the waist since she had her new stays fromLondon, or not, I will not say; but certainly this response didexasperate her beyond all endurance (as we could see by her blanchedcheek and flashing eye); so, dismissing him with a deep curtsey, sheturns on her heel without another word.

  This foolish business, which was not very creditable to our Moll's goodsense (though I think she acted no worse than other maids in hercondition,--for I have observed that young people do usually lose theirheads at the same time that they lose their hearts), this foolish scene,I say, I would gladly omit from my history, but that it completelychanged our destiny; for had these two parted with fair words, we shouldprobably have seen no more of Dario, and Don Sanchez's prognostic hadbeen realised. Such trifles as these do influence our career as greatlyas more serious accidents, our lives being a fabric of events that hangtogether by the slenderest threads.

  Unmoved from his design by Moll's displeasure, Dario replaced hisscaffold before he left that day, and the next morning he came to putthe last touch upon his work. Moll, being still in dudgeon, would not gonear him, but sat brooding in a corner of her state room, ready, as Iperceived, to fly out in passion at any one who gave her the occasion.Perceiving this, Don Sanchez prudently went forth for a walk afterdinner; but I, seeing that some one must settle accounts with thepainter for his work, stayed at home. And when I observed that he wascollecting his materials to go, I went in to Moll.

  "My dear," says I, "I believe Dario is preparing to leave us."

  "My congratulations to him," says she, "for 'tis evident he is weary ofbeing here."

  "Nay, won't you come in and see his work now 'tis finished?"

  "No; I have no desire to see it. If I have lost my taste for Italianart, 'tis through no fault of his."

  "You will see him, surely, before he goes."

  "No; I will not give him another opportunity to presume upon mykindness."

  "Why, to be sure," says I, like a fool, "you have been a littleover-familiar."

  "Indeed," says she, firing up like a cracker. "Then I think 'twould havebeen kinder of you to give me a hint of it beforehand. However, 'tis avery good excuse for treating him otherwise now."

  "Well, he must be paid for his work, at any rate."

  "Assuredly. If you have not money enough, I will fetch it from mycloset."

  "I have it ready, and here is a purse for the purpose. The question is,how much to put in it. I should think such a perspective as that couldnot be handsomely paid under fifty guineas."

  "Then you will give him a hundred, and say that I am exceedingly obligedto him."

  I put this sum in the purse and went out into the hall where Dario waswaiting, with his basket of brushes beside him. In a poor, bungling,stammering fashion, I delivered Moll's message, and made the best excuseI could for delivering it in her stead.

  He waited a moment or two after I had spoken, and then, says he, in alow voice:

  "Is that all?"

  "Nay," says I, offering the purse, "we do beg you to take this as--"

  He stopped me, pushing my hand aside.

  "I have taken a purse from Don Sanchez," says he. "There was more in itthan I needed--there are still some pieces left. But as I would notaffront him by offering to return them, so I beg you will equallyrespect my feelings. I undertook the task in gratitude, and it hath beena work of love all through, well paid for by the happiness that I havefound here."

  He stood musing a little while, as if he were debating with himselfwhether he should seek to overcome Moll's resentment or not. Then,raising his head quickly, he says: "'Tis best so, maybe. Farewell, sir"(giving me his hand). "Tell her," adds he, as we stand hand in hand atthe door, "that I can never forget her kindness, and will ever pray forher happiness."

  I found the door ajar and Moll pacing the room very white, when Ireturned. She checked me the moment I essayed to deliver Dario'smessage.

  "You can save your breath," says she, passionately, "I've heard everyword."

  "More shame for you," says I, in a passion, casting my purse on thetable. "'Tis infamous to treat an honest gentleman thus, and sillybesides. Come, dear," altering my tone, "do let me run and fetch himback."

  "You forget whom you are speaking to, Mr. Hopkins," cries she.

  I saw 'twas impossible to move her whilst she was in this mood, for shehad something of her father's obstinate, stubborn disposition, and didyet hope to bring Dario back to her feet, like a spaniel, by harshtreatment. But he came no more, though a palette he had overlooked couldhave given him the excuse, and for very vexation with Moll I was glad hedid not.

  He had not removed the scaffold, but when I went upon it to see whatelse he had put into his painting, the fading light only allowed me tomake out a figure that seemed to be leaning over the balcony.

  Moll would not go in there, though I warrant she was dying of curiosity;and soon after supper, which she could scarce force herself to touch,she went up to her own chamber, wishing us a very distant, formalgood-night, and keeping her passionate, angry countenance.

  But the next morning, ere I was dressed, she knocked at my door, and,opening it, I found her with swollen eyes and tears running down hercheeks.

  "Come down," says she, betwixt her sobs, and catching my hand in hers."Come down and see."

  So we went downstairs together,--I wondering what now had happened,--andso into the dining-hall. And there I found the scaffold pushed aside,and the ceiling open to view. Then looking up, I perceived that thefigure bending over the balcony bore Moll's own face, with a most sweet,compassionate expression in it as she looked down, such as I hadobserved when she bent over Dario, having brought him back to life. Andthis, thinks I, remembering his words, this is what he must ever seewhen he looks heavenwards.