CHAPTER V.
"I think, Roland," said my mother, "that the establishment is settled,--
Bolt, who is equal to three men at least; Primmins, cook and
housekeeper; Molly, a good, stirring girl, and willing (though I've had
some difficulty in persuading her to submit not to be called Anna
Maria). Their wages are but a small item, my clear Roland."
"Hem!" said Roland; "since we can't do with fewer servants at less
wages, I suppose we must call it small."
"It is so," said my mother, with mild positiveness. "And indeed, what
with the game and fish, and the garden and poultry-yard, and your own
mutton, our housekeeping will be next to nothing,"
"Hem!" again said the thrifty Roland, with a slight inflection of the
beetle brows. "It may be next to nothing, ma'am,--sister,--just as a
butcher's shop may be next to Northumberland House; but there is a vast
deal between nothing and that next neighbor you have given it."
This speech was so like one of my father's--so naive an imitation of
that subtle reasoner's use of the rhetorical figure called Antanaclasis
(or repetition of the same words in a different sense)--that I laughed
and my mother smiled. But she smiled reverently, not thinking of the
Antanaclasis, as, laying her hand on Roland's arm, she replied in the
yet more formidable figure of speech called Epiphonema (or exclamation),
"Yet, with all your economy, you would have had us--"
"Tut!" cried my uncle, parrying the Epiphonema with a masterly
Aposiopesis (or breaking off); "tut! if you had done what I wished, I
should have had more pleasure for my money!"
My poor mother's rhetorical armory supplied no weapon to meet that
artful Aposiopesis; so she dropped the rhetoric altogether, and went on
with that "unadorned eloquence" natural to her, as to other great
financial reformers: "Well, Roland, but I am a good housewife, I assure
you, and--Don't scold; but that you never do;--I mean, don't look as if
you would like to scold. The fact is, that even after setting aside
L100 a year for our little parties--"
"Little parties!--a hundred a year!" cried the Captain, aghast.
My mother pursued her way remorselessly,--"which we can well afford; and
without counting your half-pay, which you must keep for pocket-money and
your wardrobe and Blanche's,--I calculate that we can allow Pisistratus
L150 a year, which, with the scholarship he is to get, will keep him at
Cambridge" (at that, seeing the scholarship was as yet amidst the
Pleasures of Hope, I shook my head doubtfully), "and," continued my
mother, not heeding that sign of dissent, "we shall still have something
to lay by."
The Captain's face assumed a ludicrous expression of compassion and
horror; he evidently thought my mother's misfortunes had turned her
head.
His tormentor continued.
"For," said my mother, with a pretty calculating shake of her head, and
a movement of the right forefinger towards the five fingers of the left
hand, "L370,--the interest of Austin's fortune,--and L50 that we may
reckon for the rent of our house, make L420 a year. Add your L330 a
year from the farm, sheep-walk, and cottages that you let, and the total
is L750. Now, with all we get for nothing for our housekeeping, as I
said before, we can do very well with L500 a year, and indeed make a
handsome figure. So, after allowing Sisty L150, we still have L100 to
lay by for Blanche."
"Stop, stop, stop!" cried the Captain in great agitation; "who told you
that I had L330 a year?"
"Why, Bolt,--don't be angry with him."
"Bolt is a blockhead. From L330 a year take L200, and the remainder is
all my income, besides my half-pay."
My mother opened her eyes, and so did I.
"To that L130 add, if you please, L130 of your own. All that you have
over, my dear sister, is yours or Austin's, or your boy's; but not a
shilling can go to give luxuries to a miserly, battered old soldier. Do
you understand me?"
"No, Roland," said my mother; "I don't understand you at all. Does not
your property bring in L330 a year?"
"Yes, but it has a debt of L200 a year on it," said the Captain,
gloomily and reluctantly.
"Oh, Roland!" cried my mother tenderly, and approaching so near that,
had my father been in the room, I am sure she would have been bold
enough to kiss the stern Captain, though I never saw him look sterner
and less kissable. "Oh, Roland!" cried my mother, concluding that
famous Epiphonema which my uncle's Aposiopesis had before nipped in the
bud, "and yet you would have made us, who are twice as rich, rob you of
this little all!"
"Ah!" said Roland, trying to smile, "but I should have had my own way
then, and starved you shockingly. No talk then of 'little parties' and
such like. But you must not now turn the tables against me, nor bring
your L420 a year as a set-off to my L130."
"Why," said my mother generously, "you forget the money's worth that you
contribute,--all that your grounds supply, and all that we save by it.
I am sure that that's worth a yearly L300 at the least."
"Madam,--sister," said the Captain, "I'm sure you don't want to hurt my
feelings. All I have to say is, that if you add to what I bring an
equal sum,--to keep up the poor old ruin,--it is the utmost that I can
allow, and the rest is not more than Pisistratus can spend."
So saying, the Captain rose, bowed, and before either of us could stop
him, hobbled out of the room.
"Dear me, Sisty!" said my mother, wringing her hands; "I have certainly
displeased him. How could I guess he had so large a debt on the
property?"
"Did not he pay his son's debts? Is not that the reason that--"
"Ah!" interrupted my mother, almost crying, "and it was that which
ruffled him; and I not to guess it! What shall I do?"
"Set to work at a new calculation, dear mother, and let him have his own
way."
"But then," said my mother, "your uncle will mope himself to death, and
your father will have no relaxation, while you see that he has lost his
former object in his books. And Blanche--and you too. If we were only
to contribute what dear Roland does, I do not see how, with L260 a year,
we could ever bring our neighbors round us! I wonder what Austin would
say! I have half a mind--No, I'll go and look over the week-books with
Primmins."
My mother went her way sorrowfully, and I was left alone.
Then I looked on the stately old hall, grand in its forlorn decay. And
the dreams I had begun to cherish at my heart swept over me, and hurried
me along, far, far away into the golden land whither Hope beckons youth.
To restore my father's fortunes; re-weave the links of that broken
ambition which had knit his genius with the world; rebuild those fallen
walls; cultivate those barren moors; revive the ancient name; glad the
old soldier's age; and be to both the brothers what Roland had lost,--a
son: these were my dreams; and when I woke from them, to! they had left
behind an intense purpose, a resolute object. Dream, O youth! dream
manfully and nobly, and thy dreams shall be prophets!
