Joseph Wilmot, or, The Memoirs of a Man-Servant — page 335: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

——_— + OE 322 JOSEPH WILMOT; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF A MAN-SERVANT. were much enfeebled ;—and I generally had several hours at my own disposal. Occasionally 1 wrote letters to his dictation; and these were to a soli- citor in London, and to a bailiff or steward in Westmoreland. I thence discovered that he pos- sessed property consisting of houses in London, and that he had money in the Funds—likewise that he had an estate in the county just named: but the letters were always so peculiarly worded that it was impossible to ascertain whether the houses were mansions or cottages—whether the money in the Funds consisted of hundreds or thousands—or of what extent the Westmoreland property might be. It seemed as if he chose to veil these things in mystery, and that I should be but little the wiser from the process of letter- writing. Yet while dictating those letters, it was impossible to judge by his manner that he was studiously enwrapping his affairs in that mystery: but on the contrary, it might have been supposed that it was his own perfectly natural though pecu- liar way of conducting his business. As for any letters which he received in answer to those which he sent off, he himself invariably read them; and he locked them up with the utmost care, as if fear- ful that I should seize an opportunity to peep into their contents. ; He never asked me about my own antecedents —never exhibited the slightest curiosity to ascer- tain how it was that, being tolerably well educated, and having been brought up in a genteel position, LT had become reduced to the necessity of servitude. It seemed as if he purposely avoided any discourse that might for a moment lead me to think he was in any way interested in me. He evidently had a mortal distrust for all the world; and in the cynicism of his impressions, never oppeared to give any one credit for an honest sincerity. Indeed, on this point he would sometimes burst forth into observations that were calculated to wound the feelings most keenly; and if he saw that such was the effect of his remarks, he would either stare with an expression of malignant satisfaction—or else, on the other hand, endeayour to atone for what he had said by saying something whieh he meant to be a salve, but which was very likely to be ten times more galling than the original cause of offence. Yet I felt convinced he had not alto- gether a bad heart—far from it. Ifa case of dis- tress were mentioned to him, he would burst forth into vehement denunciations of the extravagance, profligacy, idleness, and unworthiness of those who were suffering: but he would end by remitting succour—often enough to a liberal amount,—at the same time declaring that the recipients must not consider that he had been duped or deluded into a belief of their lying representations. Some- times he went to church on Sunday,—I invariably accompanying him, and sitting in the same pew. But he never opened the prayer-book; and throughout the sermon he would sit with his horrid speaking eyes riveted on the clergyman— his mouth drawn in so that the lips totally disap- peared; and no human being could tell by the expression of his face, whether he were devoutly edified by the discourse, or whether he were pass- ing in his mind a running commentary of sneering irony and contemptuous sarcasm on the whole line of theological argument. During the two months which thus elapsed 7 a ee eee ee __————_—$— A TT from the day of my entrance into my new place, I had not once encountered Mrs. Foley: but from time to time I heard, in an indirect manner, that the health of the prisoner was suffering much, and that his wife. was as constantly with him as the regulations of the gaol would permit. At length, one day—as I was reading a local newspaper to Sir Matthew Heseltine—I came upon a paragraph which, alluding to the captive highwayman, and speaking feelingly of his wife’s attentions, added that she was experiencing the greatest distress, and would have starved were it not for the suc- cour of some benevolent ladies, who, moved by her devotedness towards her husband, had rendered her assistance. “What!” literally yelled forth Sir Matthew, so that any one who did not rightly understand him, would have thought he had exploded into a towering rage: “assistance to a highwayman’s wife! I mever heard of such a thing! Those who render it, ought to be hanged themselves. ‘It is a premium upon yillany—an encouragement of crime! I never do such things. Now, don’t you look at me, young man, in a way as if you thought I did. I'll I'll chuck this book at your head egad, I will in a moment, if you dare entertain the thought that I would encourage such proflicacy.” I made no observation: but I knew perfectly well how it would all end. “Why don’t you go on reading?” he na lously exclaimed. ‘I suppose you fancy I have something more to say ?—but you are mistaken. I hav’n’t another word—I am dumb—I am hold- ing my tongue. What! you don’t believe me? Succouring a highwayman’s wife indeed!—it is monstrous — preposterous — outrageous —abomina- ble! And so she would have starved, would she? So much the better !—and too good a fate for her into the bargain! Ah, you dare fix your eyes on that purse of mine lying on the desk? I suppose you mean to pocket it the moment: my back is turned. But you sha’n’t have the opportunity, you pilfering young rascal !” firmly: “and if you think I am capable of it, you ought not to keep me another moment s “ Capable of it P” he screamed forth: “ of course you are capable of it! Everybody is capable of a roguish action. We are all rogues—and you perhaps one of the keenest, for anything that I know to the contrary. I have my suspicions, 1 ean tell you. Ah, you start—do you? and you turn red? Well, I only told you that you were capable of a roguery: but I don’t yet accuse you of having committed one. sir.” I did as I was ordered; and Sir Matthew snatched it out of my hand as if I had given him some mortal offence which he knew not how suffi- ciently to resent. Then he went on inveighing vehemently against the charitable ladies alluded to in the newspaper paragraph; but all the while he was gradually extracting some coins from his purse. “A set of maudlin sentimentalists!” he cried: “a parcel of trumpery cheats! Why don’t they give their alms in proper channels? How dare you look at what Iam doing ?—what do you mean by regarding this purse so greedily, you ugly “TI never pilfered anything yet, sir,” I answered | Give me that purse, COLUM EloOOkKS co im