“And I will, if I can, depend upon it,” answered Sheppard, with a laugh.
So saying, he manfully resumed his work; while Wood and Thames quitted the room, and went down stairs.
CHAPTER 2.
THAMES DARRELL.
Thames Darrell’s arm having been submitted to the scrutiny of Mrs. Wood, was pronounced by that lady to be very much sprained; and she, forthwith, proceeded to bathe it with a reddish-coloured lotion. During this operation, the carpenter underwent a severe catechism as to the cause of the accident; and, on learning that the mischance originated with Jack Sheppard, the indignation of his helpmate knew no bounds; and she was with difficulty prevented from flying to the workshop to inflict summary punishment on the offender.
“I knew how it would be,” she cried, in the shrill voice peculiar to a shrew, “when you brought that worthless hussy’s worthless brat into the house. I told you no good would come of it. And every day’s experience proves that I was right. But, like all your overbearing sex, you must have your own way. You’ll never be guided by me — never!”
“Indeed, my love, you’re entirely mistaken,” returned the carpenter, endeavouring to deprecate his wife’s rising resentment by the softest looks, and the meekest deportment.
So far, however, was this submission from producing the desired effect, that it seemed only to lend additional fuel to her displeasure. Forgetting her occupation in her anger, she left off bathing Darrell’s wrist; and, squeezing his arm so tightly that the boy winced with pain, she clapped her right hand upon her hip, and turned, with flashing eyes and an inflamed countenance, towards her crest-fallen spouse.
“What!” she exclaimed, almost choked with passion — “I advised you to burthen yourself with that idle and good-for-nothing pauper, who’m you ought rather to send to the workhouse than maintain at your own expense, did I! I advised you to take him as an apprentice; and, so far from getting the regular fee with him, to give him a salary? I advised you to feed him, and clothe him, and treat him like his betters; to put up with his insolence, and wink at his faults? I counselled all this, I suppose. You’ll tell me next, I dare say, that I recommended you to go and visit his mother so frequently under the plea of charity; to give her wine, and provisions, and money; to remove her from the only fit quarters for such people — the Mint; and to place her in a cottage at Willesden, of which you must needs pay the rent? Marry, come up! charity should begin at home. A discreet husband would leave the dispensation of his bounty, where women are concerned, to his wife. And for my part, if I were inclined to exercise my benevolence at all, it should be in favour of some more deserving object than that whining, hypocritical Magdalene.”
“It was the knowledge of this feeling on your part, my love, that made me act without your express sanction. I did all for the best, I’m sure. Mrs. Sheppard is —”
“I know what Mrs. Sheppard is, without your information, Sir. I haven’t forgotten her previous history. You’ve your own reasons, no doubt, for bringing up her son — perhaps, I ought rather to say your son, Mr. Wood.”
“Really, my love, these accusations are most groundless — this violence is most unnecessary.”
“I can’t endure the odious baggage. I hope I may never come near her.”
“I hope you never may, my love,” humbly acquiesced the carpenter.
“Is my house to be made a receptacle for all your natural children, Sir? Answer me that.”
“Winny,” said Thames, whose glowing cheek attested the effect produced upon him by the insinuation; “Winny,” said he, addressing a pretty little damsel of some twelve years of age, who stood by his side holding the bottle of embrocation, “help me on with my coat, please. This is no place for me.”
“Sit down, my dear, sit down,” interposed Mrs. Wood, softening her asperity. “What I said about natural children doesn’t apply to you. Don’t suppose,” she added, with a scornful glance at her helpmate, “that I would pay him the compliment of thinking he could possibly be the father of such a boy as you.”
Mr. Wood lifted up his hands in mute despair.
“Owen, Owen,” pursued Mrs. Wood, sinking into a chair, and fanning herself violently — “what a fluster you have put me into with your violence, to be sure! And at the very time, too, when you know I’m expecting a visit from Mr. Kneebone, on his return from Manchester. I wouldn’t have him see me in this state for the world. He’d never forgive you.”
“Poh, poh, my dear! Mr. Kneebone invariably takes part with me, when any trifling misunderstanding arises between us. I only wish he was not a Papist and a Jacobite.”
“Jacobite!” echoed Mrs. Wood. “Marry, come up! Mightn’t he just as reasonably complain of your being a Hanoverian and a Presbyterian? It’s all matter of opinion. And now, my love,” she added, with a relenting look, “I’m content to make up our quarrel. But you must promise me not to go near that abandoned hussy at Willesden. One can’t help being jealous, you know, even of an unworthy object.”
Glad to make peace on any terms, Mr. Wood gave the required promise, though he could not help thinking that if either of them had cause to be jealous he was the party.
And here, we may be permitted to offer an observation upon the peculiar and unaccountable influence which ladies of a shrewish turn so frequently exercise over — we can scarcely, in this case, say — their lords and masters; an influence which seems not merely to extend to the will of the husband, but even to his inclinations. We do not remember to have met with a single individual, reported to be under petticoat government, who was not content with his lot — nay, who so far from repining, did not exult in his servitude; and we see no way of accounting for this apparently inexplicable conduct — for which, among other phenomena of married life, various reasons have been assigned, though none entirely satisfactory to us — except upon the ground that these domineering dames possess some charm sufficiently strong to counteract the irritating effect of their tempers; some secret and attractive quality of which the world at large is in ignorance, and with which their husbands alone can be supposed to be acquainted. An influence of this description appeared to be exerted on the present occasion. The worthy carpenter was restored to instant good humour by a glance from his helpmate; and, notwithstanding the infliction he had just endured, he would have quarrelled with any one who had endeavoured to persuade him that he was not the happiest of men, and Mrs. Wood the best of wives.
“Women must have their wills while they live, since they can make none when they die,” observed Wood, as he imprinted a kiss of reconciliation on the plump hand of his consort; — a sentiment to the correctness of which the party chiefly interested graciously vouchsafed her assent.
Lest the carpenter should be taxed with too much uxoriousness, it behoves us to ascertain whether the personal attractions of his helpmate would, in any degree, justify the devotion he displayed. In the first place, Mrs. Wood had the advantage of her husband in point of years, being on the sunny side of forty — a period pronounced by competent judges to be the most fascinating, and, at the same time, most critical epoch of woman’s existence — whereas, he was on the shady side of fifty — a term of life not generally conceived to have any special recommendation in female eyes. In the next place, she really had some pretensions to beauty. Accounted extremely pretty in her youth, her features and person expanded as she grew older, without much detriment to their original comeliness. Hers was beauty on a large scale no doubt; but it was beauty, nevertheless: and the carpenter thought her eyes as bright, her complexion as blooming, and