CHAPTER XI.
THE FAMILY SUPPER.--THE TWO SISTERS IN THEIR CHAMBER.
--A MISUNDERSTANDING FOLLOWED BY A CONFESSION.--WALTER'S
APPROACHING DEPARTURE AND THE CORPORAL'S BEHAVIOUR THEREON.--
THE CORPORAL'S FAVOURITE INTRODUCED TO THE READER.--THE
CORPORAL PROVES HIMSELF A SUBTLE DIPLOMATIST.
So we grew together
Like to a double cherry, seeming parted,
But yet an union in partition.
--Midsummer Night's Dream.
The Corporal had not taken his measures so badly
in this stroke of artilleryship.--Tristram Shandy.
It was late that evening when Walter returned home, the little family
were assembled at the last and lightest meal of the day; Ellinor silently
made room for her cousin beside herself, and that little kindness touched
Walter. "Why did I not love her?" thought he, and he spoke to her in a
tone so affectionate, that it made her heart thrill with delight. Lester
was, on the whole, the most pensive of the group, but the old and young
man exchanged looks of restored confidence, which, on the part of the
former, were softened by a pitying tenderness.
When the cloth was removed, and the servants gone, Lester took it on
himself to break to the sisters the intended departure of their cousin.
Madeline received the news with painful blushes, and a certain self-
reproach; for even where a woman has no cause to blame herself, she, in
these cases, feels a sort of remorse at the unhappiness she occasions.
But Ellinor rose suddenly and left the room.
"And now," said Lester, "London will, I suppose, be your first
destination. I can furnish you with letters to some of my old friends
there: merry fellows they were once: you must take care of the
prodigality of their wine. There's John Courtland--ah! a seductive dog
to drink with. Be sure and let me know how honest John looks, and what he
says of me. I recollect him as if it were yesterday; a roguish eye, with
a moisture in it; full cheeks; a straight nose; black curled hair; and
teeth as even as dies:--honest John shewed his teeth pretty often, too:
ha, ha! how the dog loved a laugh. Well, and Peter Hales--Sir Peter now,
has his uncle's baronetcy--a generous, open-hearted fellow as ever lived-
-will ask you very often to dinner--nay, offer you money if you want it:
but take care he does not lead you into extravagances: out of debt, out
of danger, Walter. It would have been well for poor Peter Hales, had he
remembered that maxim. Often and often have I been to see him in the
Marshalsea; but he was the heir to good fortunes, though his relations
kept him close; so I suppose he is well off now. His estates lie in--
shire, on your road to London; so, if he is at his country-seat, you can
beat up his quarters, and spend a month or so with him: a most hospitable
fellow."
With these little sketches of his cotemporaries, the good Squire
endeavoured to while the time; taking, it is true, some pleasure in the
youthful reminiscences they excited, but chiefly designing to enliven the
melancholy of his nephew. When, however, Madeline had retired, and they
were alone, he drew his chair closer to Walter's, and changed the
conversation into a more serious and anxious strain. The guardian and the
ward sate up late that night; and when Walter retired to rest, it was
with a heart more touched by his uncle's kindness, than his own sorrows.
But we are not about to close the day without a glance at the chamber
which the two sisters held in common. The night was serene and starlit,
and Madeline sate by the open window, leaning her face upon her hand, and
gazing on the lone house of her lover, which might be seen afar across
the landscape, the trees sleeping around it, and one pale and steady
light gleaming from its lofty casement like a star.
"He has broken faith," said Madeline: "I shall chide him for this to-
morrow. He promised me the light should be ever quenched before this
hour."
"Nay," said Ellinor in a tone somewhat sharpened from its native
sweetness, and who now sate up in the bed, the curtain of which was half-
drawn aside, and the soft light of the skies rested full upon her rounded
neck and youthful countenance--"nay, Madeline, do not loiter there any
longer; the air grows sharp and cold, and the clock struck one several
minutes since. Come, sister, come!"
"I cannot sleep," replied Madeline, sighing, "and think that yon light
streams upon those studies which steal the healthful hues from his cheek,
and the very life from his heart."
"You are infatuated--you are bewitched by that man," said Ellinor,
peevishly.
"And have I not cause--ample cause?" returned Madeline, with all a girl's
beautiful enthusiasm, as the colour mantled her cheek, and gave it the
only additional loveliness it could receive. "When he speaks, is it not
like music?--or rather, what music so arrests and touches the heart?
Methinks it is Heaven only to gaze upon him--to note the changes of that
majestic countenance--to set down as food for memory every look and every
movement. But when the look turns to me--when the voice utters my name,
ah! Ellinor, then it is not a wonder that I love him thus much: but that
any others should think they have known love, and yet not loved him! And,
indeed, I feel assured that what the world calls love is not my love. Are
there more Eugenes in the world than one? Who but Eugene could be loved
as I love?"
"What! are there none as worthy?" said Ellinor, half smiling.
"Can you ask it?" answered Madeline, with a simple wonder in her voice;
"Whom would you compare--compare! nay, place within a hundred grades of
the height which Eugene Aram holds in this little world?"
"This is folly--dotage;" said Ellinor, indignantly: "Surely there are
others, as brave, as gentle, as kind, and if not so wise, yet more fitted
for the world."
"You mock me," replied Madeline, incredulously; "whom could you select?"
Ellinor blushed deeply--blushed from her snowy temples to her yet whiter
bosom, as she answered,
"If I said Walter Lester, could you deny it?"
"Walter!" repeated Madeline, "the equal to Eugene Aram!"
"Ay, and more than equal," said Ellinor, with spirit, and a warm and
angry tone. "And indeed, Madeline," she continued, after a pause, "I lose
something of that respect, which, passing a sister's love, I have always
borne towards you, when I see the unthinking and lavish idolatry you
manifest to one, who, but for a silver tongue and florid words, would
rather want attractions than be the wonder you esteem him. Fie, Madeline!
I blush for you when you speak, it is unmaidenly so to love any one!"
Madeline rose from the window, but the angry word died on her lips when
she saw that Ellinor, who had worked her mind beyond her self-control,
had thrown herself back on the pillow, and now sobbed aloud.
The natural temper of the elder sister had always been much more calm and
even than that of the younger, who united with her vivacity something of
the passionate caprice and fitfulness of her sex. And Madeline's
affection for her had been tinged by that character of forbearance and
soothing, which a superior nature often manifests to one more imperfect,
and which in this instance did not desert her. She gently closed the
window, and, gliding to the bed, threw her arms round her sister's neck,
and kissed away her tears with a caressing fondness, that, if Ellinor
resisted for one moment, she returned with equal tenderness the next.
"Indeed, dearest," said Madeline, gently, "I cannot guess how I hurt you,
and still less, how Eugene has offended you?"
"He has offended me in nothing," replied Ellinor, still weeping, "if he
has not stolen away all your affection from me. But I was a foolish girl,
forgive me, as you always do; and at this time I need your kindness, for
I am very--very unhappy."
"Unhappy, dearest Nell, and why?"
Ellinor wept on without answering.
Madeline persisted in pressing for a reply; and at length her sister
sobbed out:
"I know that--that--Walter only has eyes for you, and a heart for you,
who neglect, who despise his love; and I--I--but no matter, he is going
to leave us, and of me--poor me, he will think no more!"
Ellinor's attachment to their cousin, Madeline had long half suspected,
and she had often rallied her sister upon it; indeed it might have been
this suspicion which made her at the first steel her breast against
Walter's evident preference to herself. But Ellinor had never till now
seriously confessed how much her heart was affected; and Madeline, in the
natural engrossment of her own ardent and devoted love, had not of late
spared much observation to the tokens of her sister's. She was therefore
dismayed, if not surprised, as she now perceived the cause of the
peevishness Ellinor had just manifested, and by the nature of the love
she felt herself, she judged, and perhaps somewhat overrated, the anguish
that Ellinor endured.
She strove to comfort her by all the arguments which the fertile
ingenuity of kindness could invent; she prophesied Walter's speedy
return, with his boyish disappointment forgotten, and with eyes no longer
blinded to the attractions of one sister, by a bootless fancy for
another. And though Ellinor interrupted her from time to time with
assertions, now of Walter's eternal constancy to his present idol; now,
with yet more vehement declarations of the certainty of his finding new
objects for his affections in new scenes; she yet admitted, by little and
little, the persuasive power of Madeline to creep into her heart, and
brighten away its griefs with hope, till at last, with the tears yet wet
on her cheek, she fell asleep in her sister's arms.
And Madeline, though she would not stir from her post lest the movement
should awaken her sister, was yet prevented from closing her eyes in a
similar repose; ever and anon she breathlessly and gently raised herself
to steal a glimpse of that solitary light afar; and ever, as she looked,
the ray greeted her eyes with an unswerving and melancholy stillness,
till the dawn crept greyly over the heavens, and that speck of light,
holier to her than the stars, faded also with them beneath the broader
lustre of the day.
The next week was passed in preparations for Walter's departure. At that
time, and in that distant part of the country, it was greatly the fashion
among the younger travellers to perform their excursions on horseback,
and it was this method of conveyance that Walter preferred. The best
steed in the squire's stables was therefore appropriated to his service,
and a strong black horse with a Roman nose and a long tail, was consigned
to the mastery of Corporal Bunting. The Squire was delighted that his
nephew had secured such an attendant. For the soldier, though odd and
selfish, was a man of some sense and experience, and Lester thought such
qualities might not be without their use to a young master, new to the
common frauds and daily usages of the world he was about to enter.
As for Bunting himself, he covered his secret exultation at the prospect
of change, and board-wages, with the cool semblance of a man sacrificing
his wishes to his affections. He made it his peculiar study to impress
upon the Squire's mind the extent of the sacrifice he was about to make.
The bit cot had been just white-washed, the pet cat just lain in; then
too, who would dig, and gather seeds, in the garden, defend the plants,
(plants! the Corporal could scarce count a dozen, and nine out of them
were cabbages!) from the impending frosts? It was exactly, too, the time
of year when the rheumatism paid flying visits to the bones and loins of
the worthy Corporal; and to think of his "galavanting about the country,"
when he ought to be guarding against that sly foe the lumbago, in the
fortress of his chimney corner!
To all these murmurs and insinuations the good Lester seriously inclined,
not with the less sympathy, in that they invariably ended in the
Corporal's slapping his manly thigh, and swearing that he loved Master
Walter like gunpowder, and that were it twenty times as much, he would
cheerfully do it for the sake of his handsome young honour. Ever at this
peroration, the eyes of the Squire began to twinkle, and new thanks were
given to the veteran for his disinterested affection, and new promises
pledged him in inadequate return.
The pious Dealtry felt a little jealousy at the trust imparted to his
friend. He halted, on his return from his farm, by the spruce stile which
led to the demesne of the Corporal, and eyed the warrior somewhat sourly,
as he now, in the cool of the evening, sate without his door, arranging
his fishing-tackle and flies, in various little papers, which he
carefully labelled by the help of a stunted pen which had seen at least
as much service as himself.
"Well, neighbour Bunting," said the little landlord, leaning over the
stile, but not passing its boundary, "and when do you go?--you will have
wet weather of it (looking up to the skies)--you must take care of the
rumatiz. At your age it's no trifle, eh--hem."
"My age! should like to know--what mean by that! my age indeed!--augh!--
bother!" grunted Bunting, looking up from his occupation. Peter chuckled
inly at the Corporal's displeasure, and continued, as in an apologetic
tone,
"Oh, I ax your pardon, neighbour. I don't mean to say you are too old to
travel. Why there was Hal Whittol, eighty-two come next Michaelmas, took
a trip to Lunnun last year--
"For young and old, the stout--the poorly,--The eye of God be on them
surely."
"Bother!" said the Corporal, turning round on his seat.
"And what do you intend doing with the brindled cat? put'un up in the
saddle-bags? You won't surely have the heart to leave'un."
"As to that," quoth the Corporal, sighing, "the poor dumb animal makes me
sad to think on't." And putting down his fish-hooks, he stroked the sides
of an enormous cat, who now, with tail on end, and back bowed up, and
uttering her lenes susurros--anglicae, purr;--rubbed herself to and fro,
athwart the Corporal's legs.
"What staring there for? won't ye step in, man? Can climb the stile I
suppose?--augh!"
"No thank'ye, neighbour. I do very well here, that is, if you can hear
me; your deafness is not so troublesome as it was last win--"
"Bother!" interrupted the Corporal, in a voice that made the little
landlord start bolt upright from the easy confidence of his position.
Nothing on earth so offended the perpendicular Jacob Bunting, as any
insinuation of increasing years or growing infirmities; but at this
moment, as he meditated putting Dealtry to some use, he prudently
conquered the gathering anger, and added, like the man of the world he
justly plumed himself on being--in a voice gentle as a dying howl, "What
'fraid on? come in, there's good fellow, want to speak to ye. Come do--a-
u-g-h!" the last sound being prolonged into one of unutterable
coaxingness, and accompanied with a beck of the hand and a wheedling
wink.
These allurements the good Peter could not resist--he clambered the
stile, and seated himself on the bench beside the Corporal.
"There now, fine fellow, fit for the forty-second;" said Bunting,
clapping him on the back. "Well, and--a--nd--a beautiful cat, isn't her?"
"Ah!" said Peter very shortly--for though a remarkably mild man, Peter
did not love cats: moreover, we must now inform the reader, that the cat
of Jacob Bunting was one more feared than respected throughout the
village. The Corporal was a cunning teacher of all animals: he could
learn goldfinches the use of the musket; dogs, the art of the broadsword;
horses, to dance hornpipes and pick pockets; and he had relieved the
ennui of his solitary moments by imparting sundry accomplishments to the
ductile genius of his cat. Under his tuition, Puss had learned to fetch
and carry; to turn over head and tail, like a tumbler; to run up your
shoulder when you least expected it; to fly, as if she were mad, at any
one upon whom the Corporal thought fit to set her; and, above all, to rob
larders, shelves, and tables, and bring the produce to the Corporal, who
never failed to consider such stray waifs lawful manorial acquisitions.
These little feline cultivations of talent, however delightful to the
Corporal, and creditable to his powers of teaching the young idea how to
shoot, had nevertheless, since the truth must be told, rendered the
Corporal's cat a proverb and byeword throughout the neighbourhood. Never
was cat in such bad odour: and the dislike in which it was held was
wonderfully increased by terror; for the creature was singularly large
and robust, and withal of so courageous a temper, that if you attempted
to resist its invasion of your property, it forthwith set up its back,
put down its ears, opened its mouth, and bade you fully comprehend that
what it feloniously seized it could gallantly defend. More than one
gossip in the village had this notable cat hurried into premature
parturition, as, on descending at day-break into her kitchen, the dame
would descry the animal perched on the dresser, having entered, God knows
how, and gleaming upon her with its great green eyes, and a malignant,
brownie expression of countenance.
Various deputations had indeed, from time to time, arrived at the
Corporal's cottage, requesting the death, expulsion, or perpetual
imprisonment of the favourite. But the stout Corporal received them
grimly, and dismissed them gruffly; and the cat still went on waxing in
size and wickedness, and baffling, as if inspired by the devil, the
various gins and traps set for its destruction. But never, perhaps, was
there a greater disturbance and perturbation in the little hamlet, than
when, some three weeks since, the Corporal's cat was known to be brought
to bed, and safely delivered of a numerous offspring. The village saw
itself overrun with a race and a perpetuity of Corporal's cats! Perhaps,
too, their teacher growing more expert by practice, the descendants might
attain to even greater accomplishment than their nefarious progenitor. No
longer did the faint hope of being delivered from their tormentor by an
untimely or even natural death, occur to the harassed Grassdalians. Death
was an incident natural to one cat, however vivacious, but here was a
dynasty of cats! Principes mortales, respublica eterna!
Now the Corporal loved this creature better, yes better than any thing in
the world, except travelling and board-wages; and he was sorely perplexed
in his mind how he should be able to dispose of her safely in his
absence. He was aware of the general enmity she had inspired, and
trembled to anticipate its probable result, when he was no longer by to
afford her shelter and protection. The Squire had, indeed, offered her an
asylum at the manor-house; but the Squire's cook was the cat's most
embittered enemy; and who can answer for the peaceable behaviour of his
cook? The Corporal, therefore, with a reluctant sigh, renounced the
friendly offer, and after lying awake three nights, and turning over in
his own mind the characters, consciences, and capabilities of all his
neighbours, he came at last to the conviction that there was no one with
whom he could so safely entrust his cat as Peter Dealtry. It is true, as
we said before, that Peter was no lover of cats, and the task of
persuading him to afford board and lodging to a cat, of all cats the most
odious and malignant, was therefore no easy matter. But to a man of the
world, what intrigue is impossible?
The finest diplomatist in Europe might have taken a lesson from the
Corporal, as he now proceeded earnestly towards the accomplishment of his
project.
He took the cat, which by the by we forgot to say that he had thought fit
to christen after himself, and to honour with a name, somewhat lengthy
for a cat, (but indeed this was no ordinary cat!) viz. Jacobina. He took
Jacobina then, we say, upon his lap, and stroking her brindled sides with
great tenderness, he bade Dealtry remark how singularly quiet the animal
was in its manners. Nay, he was not contented until Peter himself had
patted her with a timorous hand, and had reluctantly submitted the said
hand to the honour of being licked by the cat in return. Jacobina, who,
to do her justice, was always meek enough in the presence, and at the
will, of her master, was, fortunately this day, on her very best
behaviour.
"Them dumb animals be mighty grateful," quoth the Corporal.
"Ah!" rejoined Peter, wiping his hand with his pocket handkerchief.
"But, Lord! what scandal there be in the world!"
"'Though slander's breath may raise a storm, It quickly does decay!'"
muttered Peter.
"Very well, very true; sensible verses those," said the Corporal,
approvingly; "and yet mischief's often done before the amends come. Body
o' me, it makes a man sick of his kind, ashamed to belong to the race of
men, to see the envy that abounds in this here sublunary wale of tears!"
said the Corporal, lifting up his eyes.
Peter stared at him with open mouth; the hypocritical rascal continued,
after a pause,--
"Now there's Jacobina, 'cause she's a good cat, a faithful servant, the
whole village is against her: such lies as they tell on her, such
wappers, you'd think she was the devil in garnet! I grant, I grant,"
added the Corporal, in a tone of apologetic candour, "that she's wild,
saucy, knows her friends from her foes, steals Goody Solomon's butter;
but what then? Goody Solomon's d--d b--h! Goody Solomon sold beer in
opposition to you, set up a public;--you do not like Goody Solomons,
Peter Dealtry?"
"If that were all Jacobina had done!" said the landlord, grinning.
"All! what else did she do? Why she eat up John Tomkins's canary-bird;
and did not John Tomkins, saucy rascal, say you could not sing better nor
a raven?"
"I have nothing to say against the poor creature for that," said Peter,
stroking the cat of his own accord. "Cats will eat birds, 'tis the
'spensation of Providence. But what! Corporal!" and Peter hastily
withdrawing his hand, hurried it into his breeches pocket--"but what! did
not she scratch Joe Webster's little boy's hand into ribbons, because the
boy tried to prevent her running off with a ball of string?"
"And well," grunted the Corporal, "that was not Jacobina's doing, that
was my doing. I wanted the string--offered to pay a penny for it--think
of that!"
"It was priced three pence ha'penny," said Peter.
"Augh--baugh! you would not pay Joe Webster all he asks! What's the use
of being a man of the world, unless one makes one's tradesmen bate a bit?
Bargaining is not cheating, I hope?"
"God forbid!" said Peter.
"But as to the bit string, Jacobina took it solely for your sake. Ah, she
did not think you were to turn against her!"
So saying, the Corporal, got up, walked into his house, and presently
came back with a little net in his hand.
"There, Peter, net for you, to hold lemons. Thank Jacobina for that; she
got the string. Says I to her one day, as I was sitting, as I might be
now, without the door, 'Jacobina, Peter Dealtry's a good fellow, and he
keeps his lemons in a bag: bad habit,--get mouldy,--we'll make him a net:
and Jacobina purred, (stroke the poor creature, Peter!)--so Jacobina and
I took a walk, and when we came to Joe Webster's I pointed out the ball
o'twine to her. So, for your sake, Peter, she got into this here scrape--
augh."
"Ah!" quoth Peter laughing, "poor Puss! poor Pussy! poor little Pussy!"
"And now, Peter," said the Corporal, taking his friend's hand, "I am
going to prove friendship to you--going to do you great favour."
"Aha!" said Peter, "my good friend, I'm very much obliged to you. I know
your kind heart, but I really don't want any"--
"Bother!" cried the Corporal, "I'm not the man as makes much of doing a
friend a kindness. Hold jaw! tell you what,--tell you what: am going away
on Wednesday at day-break, and in my absence you shall--"
"What? my good Corporal."
"Take charge of Jacobina!"
"Take charge of the devil!" cried Peter.
"Augh!--baugh!--what words are those? Listen to me."
"I won't!"
"You shall!"
"I'll be d--d if I do!" quoth Peter sturdily. It was the first time he
had been known to swear since he was parish clerk.
"Very well, very well!" said the Corporal chucking up his chin, "Jacobina
can take care of herself! Jacobina knows her friends and her foes as well
as her master! Jacobina never injures her friends, never forgives foes.
Look to yourself! look to yourself! insult my cat, insult me! Swear at
Jacobina, indeed!"
"If she steals my cream!" cried Peter--
"Did she ever steal your cream?"
"No! but, if--"
"Did she ever steal your cream?"
"I can't say she ever did."
"Or any thing else of yours?"
"Not that I know of; but--"
"Never too late to mend."
"If--"
"Will you listen to me, or not?"
"Well."
"You'll listen?"
"Yes."
"Know then, that I wanted to do you kindness."
"Humph!"
"Hold jaw! I taught Jacobina all she knows."
"More's the pity!"
"Hold jaw! I taught her to respect her friends,--never to commit herself
in doors--never to steal at home--never to fly at home--never to scratch
at home--to kill mice and rats--to bring all she catches to her master--
to do what he tells her--and to defend his house as well as a mastiff:
and this invaluable creature I was going to lend you:--won't now, d--d if
I do!"
"Humph."
"Hold jaw! When I'm gone, Jacobina will have no one to feed her. She'll
feed herself--will go to every larder, every house in the place--your's
best larder, best house;--will come to you oftenest. If your wife
attempts to drive her away, scratch her eyes out; if you disturb her,
serve you worse than Joe Webster's little boy:--wanted to prevent this--
won't now, d--d if I do!"
"But, Corporal, how would it mend the matter to take the devil in-doors?"
"Devil!" Don't call names. Did not I tell you, only one Jacobina does not
hurt is her master?--make you her master: now d'ye see?"
"It is very hard," said Peter grumblingly, "that the only way I can
defend myself from this villainous creature is to take her into my
house."
"Villainous! You ought to be proud of her affection. She returns good for
evil--she always loved you; see how she rubs herself against you--and
that's the reason why I selected you from the whole village, to take care
of her; but you at once injure yourself and refuse to do your friend a
service. Howsomever, you know I shall be with young Squire, and he'll be
master here one of these days, and I shall have an influence over him--
you'll see--you'll see. Look that there's not another "Spotted Dog" set
up--augh!--bother!"
"But what would my wife say, if I took the cat? she can't abide its
name."
"Let me alone to talk to your wife. What would she say if I bring her
from Lunnun Town a fine silk gown, or a neat shawl, with a blue border--
blue becomes her; or a tay-chest--that will do for you both, and would
set off the little back parlour. Mahogany tay-chest--inlaid at top--
initials in silver--J. B. to D. and P. D.--two boxes for tay, and a bowl
for sugar in the middle.--Ah! ah! Love me, love my cat! When was Jacob
Bunting ungrateful?--augh!"
"Well, well! will you talk to Dorothy about it?"
"I shall have your consent, then? Thanks, my dear, dear Peter; 'pon my
soul you're a fine fellow! you see, you're great man of the parish. If
you protect her, none dare injure; if you scout her, all set upon her.
For as you said, or rather sung, t'other Sunday--capital voice you were
in too--
"The mighty tyrants without cause Conspire her blood to shed!"
"I did not think you had so good a memory, Corporal," said Peter
smiling;--the cat was now curling itself up in his lap: "after all,
Jacobina--what a deuce of a name--seems gentle enough."
"Gentle as a lamb--soft as butter--kind as cream--and such a mouser!"
"But I don't think Dorothy--"
"I'll settle Dorothy."
"Well, when will you look up?"
"Come and take a dish of tay with you in half an hour;--you want a new
tay-chest; something new and genteel."
"I think we do," said Peter, rising and gently depositing the cat on the
ground.
"Aha! we'll see to it!--we'll see! Good b'ye for the present--in half an
hour be with you!"
The Corporal left alone with Jacobina, eyed her intently, and burst into
the following pathetic address.
"Well, Jacobina! you little know the pains I takes to serve you--the lies
I tells for you--endangered my precious soul for your sake, you jade! Ah!
may well rub your sides against me. Jacobina! Jacobina! you be the only
thing in the world that cares a button for me. I have neither kith nor
kin. You are daughter--friend--wife to me: if any thing happened to you,
I should not have the heart to love any thing else. Any body o' me, but
you be as kind as any mistress, and much more tractable than any wife;
but the world gives you a bad name, Jacobina. Why? Is it that you do
worse than the world do? You has no morality in you, Jacobina; well, but
has the world?--no! But it has humbug--you have no humbug, Jacobina. On
the faith of a man, Jacobina, you be better than the world!--baugh! You
takes care of your own interest, but you takes care of your master's
too!--You loves me as well as yourself. Few cats can say the same,
Jacobina! and no gossip that flings a stone at your pretty brindled skin,
can say half as much. We must not forget your kittens, Jacobina;--you
have four left--they must be provided for. Why not a cat's children as
well as a courtier's? I have got you a comfortable home, Jacobina--take
care of yourself, and don't fall in love with every Tomcat in the place.
Be sober, and lead a single life till my return. Come, Jacobina, we will
lock up the house, and go and see the quarters I have provided for you.--
Heigho!"
As he finished his harangue, the Corporal locked the door of his cottage,
and Jacobina trotting by his side, he stalked with his usual stateliness
to the Spotted Dog.
Dame Dorothy Dealtry received him with a clouded brow, but the man of the
world knew whom he had to deal with. On Wednesday morning Jacobina was
inducted into the comforts of the hearth of mine host;--and her four
little kittens mewed hard by, from the sinecure of a basket lined with
flannel.
Reader. Here is wisdom in this chapter: it is not every man who knows how
to dispose of his cat!
