page 96

Chapter V.

Said Lizzie the housemaid, to Janet the cook:—

"Well, 'tis a down right shame, so it is, the way that fine madam goes on wi' Master Will; and he a-going to marry Miss Mabel too. She ought to be ashamed of herself—the brazen hussy."

Said Janet the cook, to Lizzie the housemaid:—

"Aye, Lizzie, ye're richt there, but I'm thinkin' she disna ken what shame is. An' to see her glowerin' at the laddie wi' thae saucy big black een; an' he daidlin' aboot at her beck and call, like a bit collie dog at his maister's heel, is a weary sight. An' it's my opinion that the jade disna care the snap o' a thumb for him."

As a rule our servants know more of our domestic affairs than we know ourselves. Mabel may have had her fears, and Mrs. Grey her doubts; but they were not nearly so well acquainted with "the goings-on" of "Madame" and "Master Will," as those other two women in the kitchen.

It was quite true that, as Lizzie the housemaid said, page 97Will Enderby was to be married to Mabel Grey. That matter had been settled by the young folks, and acquiesced in by the old ones, long ago. It was simply a question as to the time when Hymen, as represented by the Registrar, should legally rivet the matrimonial fetters. And Mr. Grey disapproved of early marriages; as, remembering Sister Sarah, he had sufficient reason to do. Meantime the courtship went on as a matter of course, and with the usual consequences.

"Man's love is of man's life a thing apart;
'Tis woman's whole existence."

To Mabel, her engagement with Will was an abiding source of "maiden meditation." She had no thought, no eyes for any other man. She loved as no woman can ever love twice—some not at all—with a pure simplicity, unswayed by interest, and unborn of passion. To her, in her quiet home, with its pleasant surroundings the one absorbing idea of her young life was, that she was Will's and Will was hers. The possibility of any alteration in this position of affairs never occurred to her. The world was all before her, and ever the central figure of the landscape was Will Enderby.

Was there ever a paradise into which the serpent did not enter? I fear not.

By what lures and wiles—by what artillery of tender glances, what sorcery of half-spoken words—by what art of retreating when he advanced, and advancing when he turned away, Will was beguiled from his allegiance, it matters not to tell. The long engagement wearied him. He did "love her once," as poor Ophelia pleads. But the toy easily gained soon loses its charms, and nothing so easily dulls or deadens love page 98in restless souls, as the absence of difficulty. Everything had been too smooth for Will Enderby. There was nothing to struggle for, or with, and he undervalued the gift accordingly.

When, therefore, the handsome widow began to practise her arts upon him, the chamber once tenanted by Eros was empty. At any rate, Eros was just on the point of moving out, and required but little external inducement to vacate the premises. And just as easily and as thoughtlessly as Will permitted the one tenant to escape, did he receive and welcome the other. The attentions lavished on him by Florence Melmoth enchanted him; her moods of careless indifference incited him; her beauty of form and face enthralled him. She did as she pleased with him. He was no more a free agent than is the victim of mesmeric power. After all, was she not the 'operator,' and he the 'subject?'

He was the younger by some three years or so. But that only the more certainly rivetted the chains of his willing bondage. The girl best loves the man who, stooping from the elevation of superior age, condescends to her. The boy is most easily fascinated by the matured charms of a woman older than himself.

When Mabel Grey first began to perceive the change in Will's manner I know not. Probably she could not have told. The revelation must have dawned upon her very gradually, and she resented even to herself her own fears. To doubt Will's faith was to banish the sun from her entire universe. No; Will was only "flirting with the governess," and she was "a little foolish thing," to be jealous of a woman "old enough page 99to be his mother." (N.B.—Women are rarely accurate arithmeticians in matters of age.)

And so the game went on. Did the widow love the boy? I think she had a kind of love for him, as a toy wherewith to amuse her leisure hours when no better sport offered—as a child to be alternately caressed and spurned as the humour suited; as a lay figure whereon to practise her arts of coquetry. In all and each of these capacities he was dear to her. As a partner, with whom to walk through life hand in hand, she cared not for him at all.

In truth, as often it occurs, this superb creature was soulless—a beautiful animal merely, without heart or conscience—the very incarnation of Self. What mattered it to her if she wrecked the life of one man, more or less? It was only another scalp to adorn her girdle. As to considering whether her conduct was in accordance with the dictates of honour, or the principles of gratitude, I don't think she was capable of comprehending the meaning of such phrases.

Now, the particular circumstance which had aroused the righteous indignation of Lizzie Housemaid occurred in this wise:—

Entering the breakfast parlour hurriedly, "to clear away the things," she had chanced upon "Master Will" and the widow in curious juxta-position, if I may venture so to express it.

Here is Lizzie's evidence in full:—

"I didn't know as there was anybody there, so I opened the door, all of a suddint-like; and there were Madam, who but she, a-standin' by the fire-place wi' Master Will. And I see his arm round her waist; and page 100if she hadn't been a-kissin' of him, I'll eat that there flat-iron, red-hot, without salt, I will. I was goin' out again quick; but she says, says she, 'Come in, you can clear the table,' says she, as cool as a cucumber. And then she begins to talk about the weather, as innocent as the cat that stole the cream. But thinks I to myself—'I've got my weather eye open, my lady, for as simple as you take me.' And I tell you what, Janet,—as sure as eggs is eggs, there's more between them two than you or I knows on. I've a precious good mind to go and tell the Missus all about it. But Lor'! there, she'd never believe me."

"No,"—quoth the cautious Janet; "dinna dae that. Ye should never scald your fingers in ither folk's brose. But she's an awfu' limmer, nae doubt."

(Memo.—All through the piece, you see, these dragons of chastity never blamed the man. It was still Eve, the temptress, and Adam, the tempted.)

Either the sage counsels of Janet were neglected, or Mrs Grey's suspicions were otherwise aroused. For on the same night, that worthy lady administered to her spouse a mild dose of "Caudle," touching the impropriety of allowing Master Will to waste his time in Melbourne. And the result was, that next morning he received "marching orders" for the Station.