“’Tis no more than natural that a father should want to see what kind of man is to be his daughter’s husband,” says I, in excuse, “and if he will come, what are we to do?”
“I know what I should do in your place, Mr. Hopkins,” says he, quietly.
“Pray, Señor, what is that?”
“Squeeze all the money you can out of old Simon before he comes,” answers he. “And it wouldn’t be amiss to make Mr. Godwin party to this business by letting him have a hundred or two for his present necessities at once.”
Acting on this hint, when Moll left us after supper and we three men were seated before the fire, I asked Mr. Godwin if he would permit me to speak upon a matter which concerned his happiness no less than his cousin Judith’s.
“Nay, sir,” replies he, “I do pray you to be open with me, for otherwise I must consider myself unworthy of your friendship.”
“Well, sir,” says I, “my mind is somewhat concerned on account of what you said this morning; namely, that no pecuniary question shall ever be discussed betwixt you and your wife, and that you will owe nothing to her but happiness. This, together with your purpose of painting pictures to sell, means, I take it, that you will leave your wife absolute mistress of her present fortune.”
“That is the case exactly, Mr. Hopkins,” says he. “I am not indifferent to the world’s esteem, and I would give no one reason to suspect that I had married my dear cousin to possess her fortune.”
“Nevertheless, sir, you would not have it thought that she begrudged you an equal share of her possessions. Your position will necessitate a certain outlay. To maintain your wife’s dignity and your own, you must dress well, mount a good horse, be liberal in hospitality, give largely to those in need, and so forth. With all due respect to your genius in painting, I can scarcely think that art will furnish you at once with supplies necessary to meet all these demands.”
“All this is very true, Mr. Hopkins,” says he, after a little reflection; “to tell the truth, I have lived so long in want that poverty has become my second nature, and so these matters have not entered into my calculations. Pray, sir, continue.”
“Your wife, be she never so considerate, may not always anticipate your needs; and hence at some future moment this question of supplies must arise—unless they are disposed of before your marriage.”
“If that could be done, Mr. Hopkins,” says he, hopefully.
“It may be done, sir, very easily. With your cousin’s consent and yours, I, as her elected guardian, at this time will have a deed drawn up to be signed by you and her, settling one-half the estate upon you, and the other on your cousin. This will make you not her debtor, but her benefactor; for without this deed, all that is now hers becomes yours by legal right upon your marriage, and she could not justly give away a shilling without your permission. And thus you assure to her the same independence that you yourself would maintain.”
“Very good,” says Don Sanchez, in a sonorous voice of approval, as he lies back in his high chair, his eyes closed, and a cigarro in the corner of his mouth.
“I thank you with all my heart, Mr. Hopkins,” says Mr. Godwin, warmly. “I entreat you have this deed drawn up—if it be my wife’s wish.”
“You may count with certainty on that,” says I; “for if my arguments lacked power, I have but to say ’tis your desire, and ’twould be done though it took the last penny from her.”
He made no reply to this, but bending forward he gazed into the fire, with a rapture in his face, pressing one hand within the other as if it were his sweetheart’s.
“In the meantime,” says I, “if you have necessity for a hundred or two in advance, you have but to give me your note of hand.”
“Can you do me this service?” cries he, eagerly. “Can you let me have five hundred by tomorrow?”
“I believe I can supply you to the extent of six or seven.”
“All that you can,” says he; “for besides a pressing need that will take me to London tomorrow, I owe something to a friend here that I would fain discharge.”
Don Sanchez waived his hand cavalierly, though I do believe the subtle Spaniard had hinted at this business as much for his own ends as for our assurance.
“I will have it ready against we meet in the morning,” says I. “You are so certain of her sanction?” he asks in delight, as if he could not too much assure himself of Moll’s devotion.
“She has been guided by me in all matters relating to her estate, and will be in this, I am convinced. But here’s another question, sir, which, while we are about business, might be discussed with advantage. My rule here is nearly at an end. Have you decided who shall govern the estate when I am gone?”
“Only that when I have authority that rascal Simon shall be turned from his office, neck and crop. He loves me as little as he loves his mistress, that he would set us by the ears for his own advantage.”
“An honest man, nevertheless—in his peculiar way,” observes the Don.
“Honest!” cries Mr. Godwin, hotly. “He honest who would have suffered Judith to die in Barbary! He shall go.”
“Then you will take in your own hands the control of your joint estate?”
“I? Why, I know no more of such matters than the man in the moon.”
“With all respect to your cousin’s abilities, I cannot think her qualified for this office.”
“Surely another steward can be found.”
“Undoubtedly,” says I. “But surely, sir, you’d not trust all to him without some supervision. Large sums of money must pass through his hands, and this must prove a great temptation to dishonest practices. ’Twould not be fair to any man.”
“This is true,” says he. “And yet from natural disinclination, ignorance, and other reasons, I would keep out of it.” Then after some reflection he adds, “My cousin has told me how you have lost all your fortune in saving her, and that ’tis not yet possible to repay you. May I ask, sir, without offence, if you have any occupation for your time when you leave us?”
“I went to London when I left you to see what might be done; but a merchant without money is like a carpenter without tools.”
“Then, sir, till your debt is discharged, or you can find some more pleasant and profitable engagement, would you not consent to govern these affairs? I do not ask you to stay here, though assuredly you will ever be a welcome guest; but if you would have one of the houses on the estate or come hither from time to time as it might fit your other purposes, and take this office as a matter of business, I should regard it as a most generous, friendly kindness on your part.”
I promised him with some demur, and yet with the civility his offer demanded, to consider of this; and so our debate ended, and I went to bed, very well content with myself, for thus will vanity blind us to our faults.
CHAPTER XXIV.
I overcome Moll’s honest compunctions, lay hold of three thousand pounds more, and do otherwise play the part of rascal to perfection.
I got together six hundred pounds (out of the sum left us after paying Don Sanchez his ten thousand), and delivered ’em to Mr. Godwin against his note of hand, telling him at the same time that, having slept upon his proposal, I was resolved to be his steward for three months, with freedom on both sides to alter our position, according to our convenience, at the end of that time, and would serve him and his lady to the best of my power. Thanking me very heartily for my friendly service to him (though, God knows, with little reason), he presently left us. And Moll,