A Set of Rogues

  CHAPTER XXVIII.

  _Moll plays us a mad prank for the last time in her life._

  About once in a fortnight I contrived to go to London for a couple ofdays on some pretext of business, and best part of this time I spentwith Dawson. And the first visit I paid him after the return of Moll andher husband, telling him of their complete happiness, Moll's increasingwomanly beauty, and the prosperous aspect of our affairs (for I had thatday positive assurance our seal would be obtained within a month), Iconcluded by asking if his mast might not now be stepped, and he be in aposition to come to Chislehurst and see her as he had before.

  "No, Kit, thanking ye kindly," says he, after fighting it out withhimself in silence a minute or two, "better not. I am getting in amanner used to this solitude, and bar two or three days a week when Ifeel a bit hangdog and hipped a-thinking there's not much in this worldfor an old fellow to live for when he's lost his child, I am pretty wellcontent. It would only undo me. If you had a child--your own flesh andblood--part of your life--a child that had been to you what my sweetMoll hath been to me, you would comprehend better how I feel. To pretendindifference when you're longing to hug her to your heart, to talk offair weather and foul when you're thinking of old times, and then to bowand scrape and go away without a single desire of your aching heartsatisfied,--'tis more than a man with a spark of warmth in his soul canbear." And then he proceeded to give a dozen other reasons for decliningthe tempting bait,--the sum of all proving to my conviction that he wasdying to see Moll, and I feared he would soon be doing by stealth thatwhich it were much safer he should do openly.

  About a week after this I got a letter from him, asking me to come againas soon as I might, he having cut his hand with a chisel, "so that Icannot work my lathe, and having nothing to occupy my mind, do plaguemyself beyond endurance."

  Much concerned for my old friend, I lose no time in repairing toGreenwich, where I find him sitting idle before his lathe, with an armhanging in a handkerchief, and his face very yellow; but this, I think,was of drinking too much ale. And here he fell speedily discoursing ofMoll, saying he could not sleep of nights for thinking of the pranks sheused to play us, our merry vagabond life together in Spain ere we got toElche, etc., and how he missed her now more than ever he did before.After that, as I anticipated, he came in a shuffling, roundabout way (asone ashamed to own his weakness) to hinting at seeing Moll by stealth,declaring he would rather see her for two minutes now and again peeringthrough a bush, though she should never cast a glance his way, than haveher treat him as if she were not his child and ceased to feel any lovefor him. But seeing the peril of such ways, I would by no means consentto his hanging about the Court like a thief, and told him plainly thatunless he would undo us all and ruin Moll, he must come openly as beforeor not at all.

  Without further demur he consents to be guided by me, and then, veryeagerly, asks when it will be proper for him to come; and we agree thatif he come in a week's time, there will be no thought in anybody's mindof our having conspired to this end.

  As the fates would have it, Mr. Godwin finished his painting on theSaturday following (the most wonderful piece of its kind I ever saw, orany one else, in my belief), and being justly proud of his work andanxious Sir Peter Lely should see it soon, he resolved he would carry itto Hatfield on Monday. Moll, who was prouder of her husband's piece thanif it were of her own doing, was not less eager it should be seen; yetthe thought that she must lose him for four days (for this journey couldnot well be accomplished in less time) cast down her spiritsexceedingly. 'Twas painful to see her efforts to be cheerful despite ofherself. And, seeing how incapable she was of concealing her realfeeling from him whom she would cheer, she at length confessed to himher trouble. "I would have you go, and yet I'd have you stay, love,"says she.

  "'Tis but a little while we shall be parted," says he.

  "A little while?" says she, trembling and wringing one hand within theother. "It seems to me as if we were parting for ever."

  "Why, then," returns he, laughing, "we will not part at all. You shallcome with me, chuck. What should prevent you?"

  She starts with joy at this, then looks at him incredulous for a moment,and so her countenance falling again, she shakes her head as thinking, Itake it, that if it were advisable she should go with him, he would haveproposed it before.

  "No," says she, "'twas an idle fancy, and I'll not yield to it. I shallbecome a burden, rather than a helpmate, if you cannot stir from homewithout me. Nay," adds she, when he would override this objection, "youmust not tempt me to be weak, but rather aid me to do that which I feelright."

  And she would not be persuaded from this resolution, but bore herselfmost bravely, even to the moment when she and her husband clasped eachfor the last time in a farewell embrace.

  She stood where he had left her for some moments after he was gone.Suddenly she ran a few paces with parted lips and outstretched hands, asif she would call him back; then, as sharply she halts, clasping herhands, and so presently turns back, looking across her shoulder, withsuch terror in her white face, that I do think her strong imaginationfigured some accusing spirits, threatening the end of all her joys.

  I followed her into the house, but there I learnt from Mrs. Butterbythat her mistress was gone to her own chamber.

  As I was sitting in my office in the afternoon, Jack Dawson came to mein his seaman's dress, his hand still wrapped up, but his face morehealthful for his long ride and cheerful thoughts.

  "Why, this could not have fallen out better," says I, when we hadexchanged greetings; "for Moll is all alone, and down in the dumps byreason of her husband having left her this morning on business, thatwill hold him absent for three or four days. We will go up presently andhave supper with her."

  "No, Kit," says he, very resolutely, "I'll not. I am resolved I won't gothere till to-morrow, for this is no hour to be a-calling on ladies, andher husband being away 'twill look as if we had ordered it of purpose.Besides, if Moll's in trouble, how am I to pretend I know nothing of thematter and care less, and this Mother Butterby and a parcel of sly,observant servants about to surprise one at any moment? Say nomore--'tis useless--for I won't be persuaded against my judgment."

  "As you will," says I.

  "There's another reason, if other's needed," says he, "and that's thisplaguey thirst of mine, which seizes me when I'm doleful or joyful, witha force there's no resisting. And chiefly it seizes me in the later partof the day; therefore, I'd have you take me to the Court to-morrowmorning betimes, ere it's at its worst. My throat's like any limekilnfor dryness now; so do pray, Kit, fasten the door snug, and give me amug of ale."

  This ended our discussion; but, as it was necessary I should give somereason for not supping with Moll, I left Dawson with a bottle, and wentup to the house to find Moll. There I learnt that she was still in herchamber, and sleeping, as Mrs. Butterby believed; so I bade the goodwoman tell her mistress when she awoke that Captain Evans had come tospend the night with me, and he would call to pay her his devoirs thenext morning.

  Here, that nothing may be unaccounted for in the sequence of events, Imust depart from my train of present observation to speak fromafter-knowledge.

  I have said that when Moll started forward, as if to overtake herhusband, she suddenly stopped as if confronted by some menacing spectre.And this indeed was the case; for at that moment there appeared to herheated imagination (for no living soul was there) a little, bent oldwoman, clothed in a single white garment of Moorish fashion, and Mollknew that she was Mrs. Godwin (though seeing her now for the firsttime), come from Barbary to claim her own, and separate Moll from thehusband she had won by fraud.

  She stood there (says Moll) within her gates, with raised hand and amost bitter, unforgiving look upon her wasted face, barring the way bywhich Moll might regain her husband; and as the poor wife halted,trembling in dreadful awe, the old woman advanced with the sure foot ofright and justice. What reproach she had to make, what malediction topronounce, Moll dared not stay t
o hear, but turning her back fled to thehouse, where, gaining her chamber, she locked the door, and flungherself upon her husband's bed; and in this last dear refuge, shuttingher eyes, clasping her ears, as if by dulling her senses to escape thephantom, she lay in a convulsion of terror for the mere dread that sucha thing might be.

  Then, at the thought that she might never again be enfolded here in herhusband's arms, an agony of grief succeeded her fit of maddening fear,and she wept till her mind grew calm from sheer exhaustion. And so,little by little, as her courage revived, she began to reason withherself as how 'twas the least likely thing in the world that if Mrs.Godwin were in England, she should come to the Court unattended and inher Moorish clothes; and then, seeing the folly of abandoning herself toa foolish fancy, she rose, washed the tears from her face, and setherself to find some occupation to distract her thoughts. And whatemployment is nearer to her thoughts or dearer to her heart than makingthings straight for her husband; so she goes into the next room where heworked, and falls to washing his brushes, cleaning his paint-board, andputting all things in order against his return, that he may lose no timein setting to work at another picture. And at dinner time, finding herface still disfigured with her late emotions and ashamed of her latefolly, she bids her maid bring a snack to her room, under the pretencethat she feels unwell. This meal she eats, still working in herhusband's room; for one improvement prompting another, she finds plentyto do there: now bethinking her that the hangings of her own privateroom (being handsomer) will look better on these walls, whereas t'othersare more fit for hers, where they are less seen; that this corner looksnaked, and will look better for her little French table standing there,with a china image atop, and so forth. Thus, then, did she devote hertime till sundown, whereabouts Mrs. Butterby raps at her door to know ifshe will have a cup of warm caudle to comfort her, at the same timetelling her that Mr. Hopkins will not sup with her, as he has CaptainEvans for his guest at the lodge.

  And now Moll, by that natural succession of extremes which seems to be agoverning law of nature (as the flow the ebb, the calm the storm, daythe night, etc.), was not less elated than she had been depressed in theearly part of the day,--but still, I take it, in a nervous, excitablecondition. And hearing her father, whom she has not seen so long, ishere, a thousand mad projects enter her lively imagination. So, whenMrs. Butterby, after the refusal of her warm caudle, proposes she shallbring Madam a tray of victuals, that she may pick something in bed,Moll, stifling a merry thought, asks, in a feeble voice, what there isin the larder.

  "Why, Madam," says Mrs. Butterby, from the outside, "there's thepartridges you did not eat at breakfast, there's a cold pigeon pasty anda nice fresh ham, and a lovely hasty pudding I made with my own hands,in the pot."

  "Bring 'em all," says Moll, in the same aching voice; "and I'll pickwhat tempts me."

  Therewith, she silently slips the bolt back, whips on her nightgown, andwhips into bed.

  Presently, up comes Mrs. Butterby, carrying a wax candle, followed by acouple of maids charged with all the provisions Moll had commanded.Having permission to enter, the good woman sets down her candle, puts onher glasses, and, coming to the bedside, says she can see very well byher poor looks, that her dear mistress has got a disorder of thebiliaries on her, and prays Heaven it may not turn to something worse.

  "Nay," says Moll, very faintly, "I shall be well again when I amrelieved of this headache, and if I can only fall asleep,--as I feeldisposed to,--you will see me to-morrow morning in my usual health. Ishan't attempt to rise this evening" ("For mercy's sake, don't," criesMrs. Butterby), "and so, I pray you, order that no one shall come nearmy room to disturb me" ("I'll see that no one so much as sets a foot onyour stair, Madam, poor dear!" says t'other), "and you will see that allis closed carefully. And so good-night, mother, and good-night to you,Jane and Betsy--oh, my poor head!"

  With a whispered "Good-night, dear madam," Mrs. Butterby and the maidsleave the room a-tiptoe, closing the door behind them as if 'twere ofgingerbread; and no sooner are they gone than Moll, big with her maddesign, nips out of bed, strips off her nightgown, and finding nothingmore convenient for her purpose, puts the ham, pasty, and partridges ina clean pillow-slip. This done, she puts on her cloak and hood, andhaving with great caution set the door open and seen all safe and quietbelow, she takes up her bag of victuals, blows out the candle, and assilent as any mouse makes her way to the little private staircase at theend of the stairs. And now, with less fear of encountering Mrs. Godwinthan Black Bogey, she feels her way down the dark, narrow staircase,reaches the lower door, unbolts it, and steps out on the path at theback of the house.

  There is still a faint twilight, and this enables her to find her way tothe wicket gate opposite Anne Fitch's cottage. Not a soul is to be seen;and so, with her hood drawn well over her head, she speeds on, and infive minutes reaches my house. Here finding the door fastened, she givesa couple of knocks, and on my opening she asks meekly in a feignedvoice, which for the life of me I should not have known for hers, if Iam minded to buy a couple of partridges a friend has sent and she has nouse for.

  "Partridges!" cries Dawson, from within. "Have 'em, Kit, for your breadand cheese is mighty every-day fare."

  "Let me see 'em, good woman," says I.

  "Yes, sir," answers she, meekly, putting her pillow-slip in my hand,which perplexed me vastly by its weight and bulk.

  "They seem to be pretty big birds by the feel of 'em," says I. "You cancome in and shut the door after you."

  Moll shuts the door and shoots the bolt, then tripping behind me intothe light she casts back her hood and flings her arms round her father'sneck with a peal of joyful laughter.

  "What!" cries I. "Why, what can have brought you here?"

  "Why, I knew you'd have nothing to give my poor old dad but mouldycheese, so I've brought you a brace of partridges, if you please, sir,"says she, concluding in her feigned voice, as she emptied the ham,pasty, and partridges all higgledy-piggledy out of the slip on to thetable.

  "But, Mrs. Godwin--" says I, in alarm.

  "Oh, call me Moll," cries she, wildly. "Let me be myself for this onenight."