The King's Own. Frederick Marryat

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СКАЧАТЬ every half-year, and have heard your orders to Wilmott to re-invest in the funds. Now, your last half-year’s dividend in the Three per Cents was — let me see — oh — 841 pounds, 14 shillings, 6 pence, which, you know, doubled, makes itself an income of — ”

      “And pray, Miss Susan, what business have you with all this?” retorted her father, half pleased, half angry.

      “Why, father, you taught me yourself; and thought me very stupid because I did not comprehend it as soon as you expected,” answered Susan, leaning over and kissing him; “and now you ask me what business I have to know it.”

      “Well, well, girl, it’s very true,” said the old man, smiling, “but allowing that you are correct, what then?”

      “Why then, father, don’t be angry if I say that it appears to me that you have more money now than you can spend while you live, or know to whom to leave when you die. What, then, is the use of confining yourself in a dirty, narrow street, and toiling all day for no earthly advantage?”

      “But how do you know that I have nobody to leave my money to, Susan?”

      “Have you not repeatedly said that you have no relations or kin, that you are aware of; except me; that you were once a sailor before the mast — an orphan, bound apprentice by the parish? Whom, then, have you except me? — and if you continue here much longer, father, I feel convinced that you will not have me — you will have no one. If you knew how tired I am of looking out at this horrid brick wall — how I long for the country, to be running among the violets and primroses — how I pine for relief from this little dungeon. Oh! what would I give to be flying before the breeze in the lugger with McElvina!”

      “Indeed, Miss!” replied old Hornblow, whom the reader may recognise as the patron of our smuggling captain.

      “Well, father, there’s no harm in saying so. I want freedom. I feel as if I could not be too free; I should like to be blown about in a balloon. Oh, why don’t you give up business, go down to the sea-side, take a pretty little cottage, and make yourself and me happy? I fancy the sea-breeze is blowing in my face, and all my ringlets out of curl. I shall die if I stay here much longer — I shall indeed, father.”

      Repeated attacks of this nature had already sapped the foundation; and a lovely and only daughter had the influence over her father’s heart, to which she was entitled.

      “Well, well, Susan, let McElvina wind up the accounts of this vessel, and then I will do as you wish; but I cannot turn him adrift, you know.”

      “Turn Captain McElvina adrift! No — if you did, father — ”

      “I presume that you would be very much inclined to take him in tow — eh, Miss?”

      “I shall never act without attending to your advice, and consulting your wishes, my dear father,” answered Susan, the suffusion of her unusually pale cheeks proving that she required but colour to be perfectly beautiful.

      And here the conversation dropped. Old Hornblow had long perceived the growing attachment between his daughter and McElvina; and the faithful and valuable services of the latter, added to the high opinion which the old man had of his honesty — which, to do McElvina justice, had been most scrupulous — had determined him to let things take their own course. Indeed, there was no one with whom old Hornblow was acquainted to whom he would have entrusted his daughter’s happiness with so much confidence as to our reformed captain.

      A sharp double tap at the street door announced the post, and in a few minutes after this conversation the clerk appeared with a letter for old Hornblow, who, pursuant to the prudent custom of those days, had his counting-house on the ground floor of his own residence, which enabled him to go to his dinner, and return to his business in the evening. Nowadays we are all above our business, and live above our means (which is in itself sufficient to account for the general distress that is complained of); and the counting-house is deserted before dusk, that we may arrive at our residences in Russell-square, or the Regent’s-park, in time to dress for a turtle dinner at six o’clock, instead of a mutton chop, or single joint, en famille, at two.

      But to return. Old Hornblow put on his spectacles (which were on the table since they had been removed from his nose by Susan when she kissed him), and examined the post-mark, seal, and superscription, as if he wished to tax his ingenuity with a guess previously to opening the letter, which would have saved him all that trouble, and have decided the point of scrutiny — viz., from whom it came?

      “McElvina, I rather think,” said he, musing; “but the postmark is Plymouth. How the deuce — !” The two first lines of the letter were read, and the old man’s countenance fell. Susan, who had been all alive at the mention of McElvina’s name, perceived the alteration in her father’s looks.

      “No bad news, I hope, my dear father?”

      “Bad enough,” replied the old man, with a deep sigh; “the lugger is taken by a frigate, and sent into Plymouth.”

      “And Captain McElvina — he’s not hurt, I hope?”

      “No, I presume not, as he has written the letter, and says nothing about it.”

      Satisfied upon this point, Susan, who recollected her father’s promise, was undutiful enough, we are sorry to say, to allow her heart to bound with joy at the circumstance. All her fond hopes were about to be realised, and she could hardly refrain from carolling the words of Ariel, “Where the bee sucks, there lurk I;” but fortunately she remembered that other parties might not exactly participate in her delight. Out of respect for her father’s feelings, she therefore put on a grave countenance, in sad contrast with her eyes, which joy had brilliantly lighted up.

      “Well, it’s a bad business,” continued old Hornblow. “Wilmott!” (The clerk heard his master’s voice, and came in.) “Bring me the ledger. Let me see — Belle Susanne — I wonder why the fool called her by that name, as if I had not one already to take money out of my pocket. Oh! here it is — folio 59 continued, folio 100, 129, 147, — not balanced since April last year. Be quick, and strike me out a rough balance-sheet of the lugger.”

      “But what does Captain McElvina say, father?”

      “What does he say? Why, that he is taken. Haven’t I told you so already, girl?” replied old Hornblow, in evident ill-humour.

      “Yes, but the particulars, my dear father!”

      “Oh, there’s only the fact, without particulars — says he will write more fully in a day or two.”

      “I’ll answer for him, that it was not his fault, father — he has always done you justice.”

      “I did not say that he had not; I’m only afraid that success has made him careless — it’s always the case.”

      “Yes,” replied Susan, taking up the right cue; “as you say, father, he has been very successful.”

      “He has,” replied the old man, recovering his serenity a little, “very successful indeed. I dare say it was not his fault.”

      The clerk soon made his appearance with the rough balance-sheet required. It did more to restore the good humour of the old man than even the soothing of his daughter.

      “Oh! here we are — La Belle Susanne — Debtor to — . Total, 14,864 pounds, 14 shillings, 3 pence. Contra — Credit. 27,986 pounds, 16 shillings, 8 pence. Balance to profit and loss, СКАЧАТЬ