The Five-Minute Marriage (19 page)

On the second story, Gareth stooped his tall head and led Philadelphia through a doorway into a small and rather cluttered room. The children were there already, bustling about: Tristram was lighting a fire in the tiny grate; Arthur was carefully placing books in a small deal shelf that hung crookedly on the wall; the two younger ones were placing bread, milk, marmalade, a plate, a napkin, a knife, a spoon, on the small table.

“
Child, child!
”
said a rather querulous voice.
“
Mind what you are about! No—no—
don
’
t
disarrange my papers—leave them be! You had best occupy yourself by emptying the tea leaves out of the pot, and fetching my shaving water; that will keep your little fingers out of mischief! Run along with you; there is the can by the door, where some careless person left it yesterday. Tristram, my dear boy, can you contrive to make a
little
less smoke in your ministrations? We shall all be suffocated! No, boy, no! Do not fan the fire like that—you are sending great pieces of burnt paper floating all over the room. Most disagreeable! Ah, Gareth, my dear fellow, how are you? Delightful, delightful.
”

“
Thomas,
”
said Gareth,
“
may I introduce my cousin Philadelphia, who has been so kind as to accompany us this morning. Philadelphia, this is my brother-in-law, Una
’
s husband, Thomas Palgrave.
”

“
How do you do, sir,
”
said Philadelphia, curtsying and holding out her hand.

The hand she received in return was so damp, limp, and chilly that, she thought, it was rather like clasping a cold cooked leek. She gazed in wonder at this person who had made such a name for himself in literature, had sired ten children, and then, apparently, had so mismanaged his affairs as to be forced into this dismal retreat.

Thomas Palgrave, wearing a faded velvet gown and nightcap, sat in a small armchair, near the hearth where his eldest son was attempting to kindle a fire. He might be in his mid-forties. His face was beardless, thin, and transparently pale, but unlined; his nose was fine and straight; his eyes were of a dim grayish blue; his hair was scanty, thin, and weak, of a pale color somewhere between white and straw. His mouth was very small; too small, it seemed, to convey any expression save a kind of weary petulance. His feet, also very small, were clad in buff-colored silk stockings and carpet slippers. He held a pen in his hand, a notebook on his knee, and only raised his eyes from the notebook long enough to remark,

“
Ah: Miss Cartwright; delightful; delightful,
”
before dipping his pen in a rusty metal inkwell which stood beside him, and adding a word or two to what he was writing.

The fire now beginning to bum brightly, Tristram found a frying pan in a box, a lump of butter somewhere else, an egg somewhere else, and began in a capable manner to fry the egg. Meanwhile Isa had returned, struggling with a heavy can of hot water and the empty teapot. Arthur poured a little of the water into a mug, found a stump of soap and a razor, and began to shave his father, who absentmindedly turned his neck and chin this way and that, allowing passage for the razor, while he continued to write in his notebook. Tristram filled a kettle with some more of the water and balanced it over the fire beside his pan, where it immediately began to sing.

Delphie, discovering that there was only one chair in the confined place, moved to the little bookshelf and studied its contents: various volumes of essays and poetry, a few works in Latin and Greek; the plays of Shakespeare.

Then she turned and inspected the somewhat airless chamber. It was small, certainly, but furnished with an eye to convenience, and with various humble comforts. There was a piece of furniture which appeared to combine being a bedstead below and a chest of drawers above (into which Isa was putting the clean laundry); the walls had been painted mustard yellow—by one of the boys? The painter had left a good many streaks, over which various prints and children
’
s drawings had been tacked up. The window (which looked into the dismal yard) was uncurtained, since little enough light came through anyway, but a dingy piece of carpet covered the floor. However, there were cushions, and a tablecloth, and a few homemade ornaments, probably also of the children
’
s construction; there was even a melancholy-looking canary in a cage, which, when Isa had finished attending to her father, she carefully fed and watered.

“
Ah, I see, Miss—er—Cartwright is admiring my small library,
”
Mr. Palgrave remarked in his weary voice.
“
Small, but choice, I flatter myself! The dear boys refresh it every few days—take
aw
^a
y
something, bring something else. Even in this unpleasing spot, you see, Miss Cartwright, the philosopher may kindle his tiny lantern. Why, indeed, should he require more than a cell? And yet,
”
he continued, wiping his neck with a snowy towel, which Arthur offered, and then turning to the table, which now had a pot of tea, a fried egg, two nicely made pieces of toast, and a slice of ham,
“
and yet,
”
he said, taking a mouthful of egg and buttered toast,
“
yet, Miss Cartwright, he
does
require more.
”

“
I—I suppose so,
”
faltered Delphie, not quite sure where this was leading.

“
He longs, Miss Cartwright,
”
said Thomas Palgrave, turning his pale eyes in her direction,
“
he longs for his nearest and dearest Thank you, child,
”
as little Lance spread another piece of toast with marmalade. Mr. Palgrave took a bite of it and heaved a martyred sigh.
“
Some
prisoners, Miss Cartwright
—some
lucky prisoners have the inestimable comfort and refreshment of having their families always with them.
”

“
Indeed?
”
said Delphie hesitantly.
“
Families living in the prison—is that allowed?
”

“
Oh, dear me, yes. It is more the rule than the exception. In fact I think I may say that most of the—the inmates of this place have tender, devoted families supporting them with their permanent presence. I have made the suggestion to my
own
nearest and dearest. I have made it, I think I may say, several times. But
”
—he heaved another sigh, taking a swallow of tea—
”
but it was not to be! There are those in my circle who think not as I do—who think otherwise.
”
His pale blue eyes glanced momentarily in the direction of Gareth, who was impatiently flipping through the pages of Shakespeare.

“
We do see you quite frequently, Papa,
”
remarked Isa, taking away her father
’
s empty cup and refilling it.

“
Yes, child, yes. But that is not the same as being with me always, night and day, in darkness and in light; is it, now? Think of the weary watches of the night, when the candle bums low and the spirit mourns, uncomforted; think of the pale sorrows of dawn when the sun seems lost in hopeless travail and the hands of the clock move not. Think of that!
”
he said to Delphie, who could only remark, most inadequately,

“
Yes—I suppose you must long for your breakfast—before they are let in!
”

“
But I do not repine!
”
remarked Mr. Palgrave languidly.
“
No: I accept my lot. What is to be, must be.
”
He pushed aside his cup and plate, and received in the
corner
of his mouth a small cigar which Tristram had lit for him.
“
Thank you, my boy. Would one of you—it matters not which—polish my shoes? Would another of you—any will do—brush my coat and hat? If the day is fine, I shall presently walk in that disagreeable yard for half an hour, while meditating on my next canto.
”

“
How is your work going, Papa?
”
politely inquired Arthur.

“
It goes—it goes. A hard—an arduous path, my boy, is that your father follows. But I persevere; I do not despair. Gareth, my dear boy, by the by, six more cantos lie there, ready for the printer; take them with you when you go and drop them in at John Wallis, in Ludgate Street—would you, like a good fellow? Or, if you wish, you may take them direct to Gillets the printers in Salisbury Square; I leave the choice quite to you.
”

“
I will take them to Gillets,
”
Gareth said calmly, gathering up the bundle of paper.
“
Are you ready, children? Then I think we should return. Your mother will be needing your help. And your cousin Delphie has to return to
her
mother.
”

The remains of Mr. Palgrave
’
s breakfast were swiftly tidied away; materials for a nuncheon were left conveniently disposed upon a shelf and Mr. Palgrave
’
s attention was drawn to them (he acknowledged this by a nod, without raising his eyes); the polished shoes and brushed coat and hat were arranged respectively under and on the bed. Then, as Mr. Palgrave was once more absorbed in his writing, the children softly stole through the door, each murmuring,
“
Good-by, Papa,
”
to which Mr. Palgrave replied merely by a sigh.

“
We will take our leave, then, Thomas,
”
Gareth said.

“
Good-by, good-by, my dear fellow, you won
’
t forget Gillets, now, will you? Your servant, Miss Cartwright,
so
pleased to have met you,
”
said Mr. Palgrave, his hand with the pen still traveling over the page at a great rate.

Once out of Mr. Palgrave
’
s room, although they were still within the dingy confines of the prison, the spirits of the whole party insensibly rose. Tristram gave vent to a shrill whistle, Arthur turned a somersault along the passage, and the two younger children went gaily clattering down the stairs.

“
Have a care, Cousin Delphie; they are so steep,
”
said Gareth, and cupped a hand under her elbow.

Down in the yard the boys were carefully loading soiled laundry and empty vessels into the donkey
’
s panniers; then the procession retraced its steps through the lobby, the narrow entry, and the various gates.

Just as they were about to step into the street, they were arrested by a respectful cough, which seemed to come from the shadows by the turnkey
’
s office.

“
Ahem, there, young ladies and gentlemen!
”

“
Why!
”
said Isa, turning with a broad smile of pleasure,
“
It
’
s Mr. Swannup! We were just thinking that we hadn
’
t seen you, Mr. Swannup, and wondering where you were!
”

Mr. Swannup was a somewhat gangling youth, whose pale face was adorned by a thick ginger-colored moustache, and whose block-shaped head ended abruptly in a very bristling quantity of bright ginger-colored hair. He was at work with a bag of tools, evidently repairing some defect in the lock of the main gate.

“
Being as I
’
m a locksmith by trade, you see, missie,
”
he said to Isa with a rather wan smile,
“
whenever there
’
s a little job of this nature as needs doing, why, they calls for me. That
’
s why I wasn
’
t up there as usual a-sweeping of your Pa
’
s floor, but it
’
ll get done by and by, don
’
t you worrit your pretty head. I
’
ve too great a reverence for litter-ayture to let your Pa
’
s room go dusty, young ladies and gentlemen; so long as Samuel Swannup is in the Marshalsea, Mr. Palgrave
’
s room will remain spic and span, there
’
s my hand on it, and so you can tell my friend Mr. Bardwell.
”

“
Very obliging of you, Swannup,
”
said Gareth, stopping by him, and there was a slight clink as two palms met.

“
I
would
a been happy to do it just for the service to litter-ayture,
”
said Mr. Swannup mournfully,
“
but I thank you, sir, just the same.
”

Then he fixed his rather colorless eyes on Delphie. She, for the past minute, had been wondering why he seemed so familiar; then, as he spoke, she realized where she had seen him.

“
Am I right in addressing you, ma
’
am, as Miss Carteret, what lives up above my intended, Miss Jenny Baggott, in Greek Street?
”

“
Why, of course, Mr. Swannup; I was wondering why I seemed to know you so well. I am sorry to see you here,
”
said Delphie.
“
I hope it won
’
t be for long?
”

“
I hope so, too, ma
’
am, I
’
m sure,
”
he said rather dolefully.
“
It
’
s all according to Providence. Sometimes she giveth, and sometimes she removeth; and she
’
s in the removing way at the moment, so far as Sam Swannup is concerned. But, ma
’
am, I
’
d be greatly obliged if you
’
d just drop a word to my Jenny as how the fragrance of one of her apple turnovers wouldn
’
t half sweeten the air of this stinking crib (asking your pardon), not to mention as how the sight of her sweet face
‘
ud cheer me up.
”

“
I
’
ll certainly tell her,
”
promised Delphie.
“
Er—how much are you in for, Mr. Swannup?
”

“
Oh, it
’
s only a mere tilbury sum, miss, compared with Mr. Palgrave upstairs; he
’
s a real plummy cove,
”
said Sam with great respect.
“
Mine
’
s only a tenner, miss, I feel downright humble at being allowed to consort with gents like Mr. P.
”

“
Only ten pounds! Oh, how dreadful!
”
said Delphie, wishing that she had it to spare, so that she might buy him out. But Gareth, grasping at her elbow, said,

“
Come away, Cousin Delphie! I can see how your thoughts run, but if once you begin to think like
that
, in the Marshalsea, you will end up here yourself, probably before a month is out!
”

“
I suppose so,
”
she said regretfully, waving good-by to Mr. Swannup, who still stood regarding them with melancholy eyes through the bars of the gate.
“
But it seems so sad! Such a nice young man! And all for a ten-pound debt.
”
Then, rather tentatively, she inquired,
“
How—how much is your brother-in-law liable for?
”