"I hate the idea of marrying for money."
"All right. Then marry Miss Amedroz if you please. But don"t make any rash undertakings to be her father, or her brother, or her uncle, or her aunt. Such romance always leads a man into trouble."
"But I"ve done it already."
"What do you mean?"
"I"ve told her that I would be her brother, and that as long as I had a shilling she should never want sixpence. And I mean it. And as for what you say about romance and repenting it, that simply comes from your being a lawyer."
"Thank ye, Will."
"If one goes to a chemist, of course one gets physic, and has to put up with the bad smells."
"Thank you again."
"But the chemist may be a very good sort of fellow at home all the same, and have a cupboard full of sweetmeats and a garden full of flowers. However, the thing is done as far as I am concerned, and I can almost find it in my heart to be sorry that Clara has got this driblet of money. Fifteen hundred pounds! It would keep her out of the workhouse, and that is about all."
"If you knew how many ladies in her position would think that the heavens had rained wealth upon them if some one would give them fifteen hundred pounds!"
"Very well. At any rate I won"t take it away from her. And now I want you to tell me something else. Do you remember a fellow we used to know named Berdmore?"
"Philip Berdmore?"
"He may have been Philip, or Daniel, or Jeremiah, for anything I know. But the man I mean was very much given to taking his liquor freely."
"That was Jack Berdmore, Philip"s brother. Oh yes, I remember him.
He"s dead now. He drank himself to death at last, out in India."
"He was in the army?"
"Yes;--and what a pleasant fellow he was at times! I see Phil constantly, and Phil"s wife, but they never speak of Jack."
"He got married, didn"t he, after we used to see him?"
"Oh yes;--he and Phil married sisters. It was a sad affair, that."
"I remember being with him and her,--and the sister too, after they were engaged, and he got so drunk that we were obliged to take him away. There was a large party of us at Richmond, but I don"t think you were there."
"But I heard of it."
"And she was a Miss Vigo?"
"Exactly. I see the younger sister constantly. Phil isn"t very rich, and he"s got a lot of children,--but he"s very happy."
"What became of the other sister?"
"Of Jack"s wife?"
"Yes. What became of her?"
"I haven"t an idea. Something bad, I suppose, as they never speak of her."
"And how long is he dead?"
"He died about three years since. I only knew it from Phil"s telling me that he was in mourning for him. Then he did speak of him for a moment or two, and I came to know that he had carried on to the end in the same way. If a fellow takes to drink in this country, he"ll never get cured in India."
"I suppose not."
"Never."
"And now I want to find out something about his widow."
"And why?"
"Ah;--I"m not sure that I can tell you why. Indeed I"m sure that I cannot. But still you might be able to a.s.sist me."
"There were heaps of people who used to know the Vigos," said the lawyer.
"No end of people,--though I couldn"t for the life of me say who any of them were."
"They used to come out in London with an aunt, but n.o.body knew much about her. I fancy they had neither father nor mother."
"They were very pretty."
"And how well they danced! I don"t think I ever knew a girl who danced so pleasantly,--giving herself no airs, you know,--as Mary Vigo."
"Her name was Mary," said Belton, remembering that Mrs. Askerton"s name was also Mary.
"Jack Berdmore married Mary."
"Well now, Joe, you must find out for me what became of her. Was she with her husband when he died?"
"n.o.body was with him. Phil told me so. No one, that is, but a young lieutenant and his own servant. It was very sad. He had D.T., and all that sort of thing."
"And where was she?"
"At Jericho, for anything that I know."
"Will you find out?" Then Mr. Joseph Green thought for a moment of his capabilities in that line, and having made an engagement to dine with his friend at his club on the evening before Will left London, said at last that he thought he could find out through certain mutual friends who had known the Berdmores in the old days. "But the fact is," said the lawyer, "that the world is so good-natured,--instead of being ill-natured, as people say,--that it always forgets those who want to be forgotten."
We must now go back for a few moments to Captain Aylmer and his affairs. Having given a full month to the consideration of his position as regarded Miss Amedroz, he made up his mind to two things.
In the first place, he would at once pay over to her the money which was to be hers as her aunt"s legacy, and then he would renew his offer. To that latter determination he was guided by mixed motives,--by motives which, when joined together, rarely fail to be operative. His conscience told him that he ought to do so,--and then the fact of her having, as it were, taken herself away from him, made him again wish to possess her. And there was another cause which, perhaps, operated in the same direction. He had consulted his mother, and she had strongly advised him to have nothing further to do with Miss Amedroz. Lady Aylmer abused her dead sister heartily for having interfered in the matter, and endeavoured to prove to her son that he was released from his promise by having in fact performed it. But on this point his conscience interfered,--backed by his wishes,--and he made his resolve as has been above stated. On leaving Mr. Green"s chambers he went to his own lodgings, and wrote his letter, as follows:--
Mount Street, December, 186--.
DEAREST CLARA,
When you parted from me at Perivale you said certain things about our engagement which I have come to understand better since then, than I did at the time.