Her ladyship wrote letters, and read a sermon.
But the next night she was back at the table; and won very plentifully, until the little Russian sprite made his appearance, when it seemed that her luck changed. She began to bet upon him, and the young Calmuck lost too. Her ladyship's temper went along with her money: first she backed the Calmuck, and then she played against him. When she played against him, his luck turned; and he began straightway to win. She put on more and more money as she lost: her winnings went: gold came out of secret pockets. She had but a florin left at last, and tried it on a number, and failed.
She got up to go away. I watched her, and I watched Mr. Justice Aeacus, too, who put down a Napoleon when he thought nobody was looking.
The next day my Lady Kicklebury walked over to the money-changers, where she changed a couple of circular notes. She was at the table that night again: and the next night, and the next night, and the next.
By about the fifth day she was like a wild woman. She scolded so, that Hirsch, the courier, said he should retire from monsieur's service, as he was not hired by Lady Kicklebury: that Bowman gave warning, and told another footman in the building that he wouldn't stand the old cat no longer, blow him if he would: that the maid (who was a Kicklebury girl) and Fanny cried: and that Mrs.
Milliken's maid, Finch, complained to her mistress, who ordered her husband to remonstrate with her mother. Milliken remonstrated with his usual mildness, and, of course, was routed by her ladyship.
Mrs. Milliken said, "Give me the daggers," and came to her husband's rescue. A battle royal ensued; the scared Milliken hanging about his blessed Lavinia, and entreating and imploring her to be calm. Mrs. Milliken WAS calm. She asserted her dignity as mistress of her own family: as controller of her own household, as wife of her adored husband; and she told her mamma, that with her or here she must not interfere; that she knew her duty as a child:
but that she also knew it as a wife, as a-- The rest of the sentence was drowned, as Milliken, rushing to her, called her his soul's angel, his adored blessing.
Lady Kicklebury remarked that Shakspeare was very right in stating how much sharper than a thankless tooth it is to have a serpent child.
Mrs. Milliken said, the conversation could not be carried on in this manner: that it was best her mamma should now know, once for all, that the way in which she assumed the command at Pigeoncot was intolerable; that all the servants had given warning, and it was with the greatest difficulty they could be soothed: and that, as their living together only led to quarrels and painful recriminations (the calling her, after her forbearance, A SERPENTCHILD, was an expression which she would hope to forgive and forget,) they had better part.
Lady Kicklebury wears a front, and, I make no doubt, a complete jasey; or she certainly would have let down her back hair at this minute, so overpowering were her feelings, and so bitter her indignation at her daughter's black ingratitude. She intimated some of her sentiments, by ejaculatory conjurations of evil. She hoped her daughter might NOT feel what ingratitude was; that SHEmight never have children to turn on her and bring her to the grave with grief.
"Bring me to the grave with fiddlestick!" Mrs. Milliken said with some asperity. "And, as we are going to part, mamma, and as Horace has paid EVERYTHING on the journey as yet, and we have only brought a VERY few circular notes with us, perhaps you will have the kindness to give him your share of the travelling expenses--for you, for Fanny, and your two servants whom you WOULD bring with you: and the man has only been a perfect hindrance and great useless log, and our courier has had to do EVERYTHING. Your share is now eighty-two pounds."Lady Kicklebury at this gave three screams, so loud that even the resolute Lavinia stopped in her speech. Her ladyship looked wildly: "Lavinia! Horace! Fanny my child," she said, "come here, and listen to your mother's shame.""What?" cried Horace, aghast.
"I am ruined! I am a beggar! Yes; a beggar. I have lost all--all at yonder dreadful table.""How do you mean all? How much is all?" asked Horace.
"All the money I brought with me, Horace. I intended to have paid the whole expenses of the journey: yours, this ungrateful child's--everything. But, a week ago, having seen a lovely baby's lace dress at the lace-shop; and--and--won enough at wh--wh--whoo--ist to pay for it, all but two--two florins--in an evil moment I went to the roulette-table--and lost--every shilling: and now, on may knees before you, I confess my shame."I am not a tragic painter, and certainly won't attempt to depict THIS harrowing scene. But what could she mean by saying she wished to pay everything? She had but two twenty-pound notes: and how she was to have paid all the expenses of the tour with that small sum, I cannot conjecture.
The confession, however, had the effect of mollifying poor Milliken and his wife: after the latter had learned that her mamma had no money at all at her London bankers', and had overdrawn her account there, Lavinia consented that Horace should advance her fifty pounds upon her ladyship's solemn promise of repayment.