CHAPTER XIV.
No author ever drew a character consistent to human nature, but what
he was forced to ascribe to it many inconsistencies.
Whether moved by that pathetic speech of Jasper's, or by some other
impulse not less feminine, Arabella Crane seemed suddenly to conceive the
laudable and arduous design of reforming that portentous sinner. She had
some distant relations in London, whom she very rarely troubled with a
visit, and who, had she wanted anything from them, would have shut their
doors in her face; but as, on the contrary, she was well off, single, and
might leave her money to whom she pleased, the distant relations were
always warm in manner, and prodigal in their offers of service. The next
day she repaired to one of these kinsfolk,--a person in a large way of
business,--and returned home with two great books in white sheepskin.
And when Losely looked in to dine, she said, in the suavest tones a
tender mother can address to an amiable truant, "Jasper, you have great
abilities; at the gaming-table abilities are evidently useless: your
forte is calculation; you were always very quick at that. I have been
fortunate enough to procure you an easy piece of task-work, for which you
will be liberally remunerated. A friend of mine wishes to submit these
books to a regular accountant: he suspects that a clerk has cheated him;
but he cannot tell how or where. You know accounts thoroughly,--no one
better,--and the pay will be ten guineas."
Jasper, though his early life had rendered familiar and facile to him the
science of book-keeping and double-entry, made a grimace at the revolting
idea of any honest labour, however light and well paid. But ten guineas
were an immense temptation, and in the evening Mrs. Crane coaxed him into
the task.
Neglecting no feminine art to make the lawless nomad feel at home under
her roof, she had provided for his ease and comfort morocco slippers and
a superb dressing-robe, in material rich, in colour becoming. Men,
single or marital, are accustomed to connect the idea of home with
dressing-gown and slippers, especially if, after dinner, they apply (as
Jasper Losely now applied) to occupations in which the brain is active,
the form in repose. What achievement, literary or scientific, was ever
accomplished by a student strapped to unyielding boots, and "cabined,
cribbed, confined," in a, coat that fits him like wax? As robed in the
cozy garment which is consecrated to the sacred familiar Lares, the
relaxing, handsome ruffian sat in the quiet room, bending his still
regular profile over the sheepskin books, the harmless pen in that strong
well-shaped hand, Mrs. Crane watched him with a softening countenance.
To bear him company, she had actively taken, herself, to work,--the gold
thimble dragged from its long repose,--marking and hemming, with nimble
artistic fingers, new cravats for the adopted son! Strange creature is
woman! Ungrateful and perfidious as that sleek tiger before her had
often proved himself, though no man could less deserve one kindly
sentiment in a female heart, though she knew that he cared nothing for
her, still it was pleasing to know that he cared for nobody else, that he
was sitting in the same room; and Arabella Crane felt that, if that
existence could continue, she could forget the past and look contented
towards the future. Again I say, strange creature is woman; and in this
instance, creature more strange, because so grim! But as her eyes
soften, and her fingers work, and her mind revolves schemes for making
that lawless wild beast an innocuous tame animal, who can help feeling
for and with grim Arabella Crane?
Poor woman! And will not the experiment succeed? Three evenings does
Jasper Losely devote to this sinless life and its peaceful occupation.
He completes his task; he receives the ten guineas. (How much of that
fee came out of Mrs. Crane's privy purse?) He detects three mistakes,
which justify suspicion of the book-keeper's integrity. Set a thief to
catch a thief! He is praised for acuteness, and promised a still lighter
employment, to be still better paid. He departs, declaring that he will
come the next day, earlier than usual; he volunteers an eulogium upon
work in general; he vows that evenings so happy he has not spent for
years; he leaves Mrs. Crane so much impressed by the hope of his
improvement that, if a good clergyman had found her just at that moment,
she might almost have been induced to pray. But
"Heu quoties fidem
Mutatosque deos flebit!"
Jasper Losely returns not, neither to Podden place or his lodging in the
neighborhood. Days elapse and still he comes not; even Poole does not
know where he has gone; even Poole has not seen him! But that worthy is
now laid up with a serious rheumatic fever--confined to his room and a
water gruel. And Jasper Losely is not the man to intrude himself on the
privacy of a sick chamber. Mrs. Crane, more benevolent, visits
Poole cheers him up--gets him a nurse--writes to Uncle Sam. Poole
blesses her. He hopes that Uncle Sam, moved by the spectacle of the
sick-bed will say, "Don't let your debts fret you: I will pay them!"
Whatever her disappointment or resentment at Jasper's thankless and
mysterious evasion, Arabella Crane is calmly confident of his return. To
her servant, Bridget Greggs, who was perhaps the sole person in the world
who entertained affection for the lone gaunt woman, and who held Jasper
Losely in profound detestation, she said, with tranquil sternness, "That
man has crossed my life, and darkened it. He passed away, and left Night
behind him. He has dared to return. He shall never escape me again till
the grave yawn for one of us."
"But, Lor' love you, miss, you would not put yourself in the power of
such a black-hearted villing?"
"In his power! No, Bridget; fear not, he must be in mine, sooner or
later in mine, hand and foot. Patience!" As she was thus speaking,--
a knock at the door! "It is he; I told you so; quick!"
But it was not Jasper Losely. It was Mr. Rugge.
