"They say it is a bad note."

"Well, I'll change it; bid them send it up."

"They won't part with it, ma'am: they would not let it out of their hands, even to let me look at it for an instant."

"What a riot about a pound note," said Mrs. Ludgate, rising from the card-table: "I'll speak to the fellows myself."

She had recourse again to her husband's desk; and, armed with a whole handful of fresh bank-notes, she went to the strangers. They told her that they did not want, and would not receive, any note in exchange for that which they produced; but that, as it was a forgery, they must insist upon knowing from whom she had it. There was an air of mystery and authority about the strangers which alarmed Mrs. Ludgate; and, without attempting any evasion, she said that she took the note from her husband's desk, and that she could not tell from whom he received it.

The strangers declared that they must wait till Mr. Ludgate should return home. She offered to give them a guinea to drink, if they would go away quietly; but this they refused. Jack, the footboy, whispered that they had pistols, and that he believed they were Bow-street officers.

They went into the back parlour to wait for Mr. Ludgate; and the lady, in extreme perturbation, returned to her company and her cards. In vain she attempted to resume her conversation about the spring hat, and to conceal the agitation of her spirits. It was observed by all her _friends_, and especially by Mrs. Pimlico, whose curiosity was strongly excited, to know the cause of her alarm. Mrs. Ludgate looked frequently at her watch, and even yawned without ceremony, more than once, to manifest her desire that the company should depart; but no hints availed. The card players resolutely kept their seats, and even the smell of extinguishing candles had no effect upon their callous senses.

The time appeared insupportably long to the wretched mistress of the house; and the contrast between her fantastic headdress and her agonizing countenance every minute became more striking.

Twelve o'clock struck. "It is growing very late," said Mrs. Ludgate.

"But we must have another rubber," said Mrs. Pimlico.

She began to deal; a knock was heard at the door. "There's Mr. Ludgate, I do suppose," said Mrs. Pimlico, continuing her deal. Mrs. Ludgate left her cards, and went out of the room without speaking. She stopped at the head of the staircase, for she heard a scuffle and loud voices below.

Presently all was silent, and she ventured down when she heard the parlour door shut. The footman met her in the pa.s.sage.

"What is the matter?" said she.

"I don't know; but I must be paid my wages," said he, "or must pay myself."

He pa.s.sed on rudely. She half opened the parlour door, and looked in: her husband was lying back on the sofa, seemingly stupefied by despair: one of the Bow-street officers was chafing his temples, another was rummaging his desk, and the third was closely examining certain notes, which he had just taken from the prisoner's pockets.

"What is the matter?" cried Mrs. Ludgate, advancing. Her husband lifted up his eyes, saw her, started up, and, stamping furiously, exclaimed, "Cursed, cursed woman! you have brought me to the gallows, and all for this trumpery!" cried he, s.n.a.t.c.hing her gaudy hat from her head, and trampling it under his feet. "For this--for this! you vain, you ugly creature, you have brought your husband to the gallows!"

One of the Bow-street officers caught hold of his uplifted arm, which trembled with rage. His wife sank to the ground; a second paralytic stroke deprived her of the power of speech. As they were carrying her up stairs, Mrs. Pimlico and the rest of the company came out of the dining-room, some of them with cards in their hands, all eagerly asking what was the matter? When they learnt that the Bow-street officers were in the house, and that Mr. Ludgate was taken into custody for uttering forged bank-notes, there was a general uproar. Some declared it was shocking! others protested it was no more than might have been expected!

The Ludgates lived so much above their circ.u.mstances! Then he was such a c.o.xcomb; and she such a poor vain creature! Better for people to do like their neighbours--to make no show, and live honestly!

In the midst of these effusions of long suppressed envy, some few of the company attempted a slight word or two of apology for their host and hostess; and the most humane went up to the wretched woman's bedchamber, to offer a.s.sistance and advice. But the greater number were occupied in tucking up their white gowns, finding their clogs, or calling for hackney coaches. In less than a quarter of an hour the house was clear of all Mrs. Ludgate's _friends_. And it is to please such friends that whole families ruin themselves by unsuitable expense.

Lucy and Allen were not, however, of this cla.s.s of friends. A confused report of what had pa.s.sed the preceding night was spread the next morning in Cranbourne-alley, by a young lady, who had been at Mrs.

Ludgate's rout. The moment the news reached Allen's shop, he and Lucy set out immediately to offer their a.s.sistance to the unfortunate family.

When they got to Weymouth-street, they gave only a single knock at the door, that they might not create any alarm. They were kept waiting a considerable time, and at last the door was opened by a slip-shod cook-maid, who seemed to be just up, though it was near eleven o'clock.

She showed them into the parlour, which was quite dark; and, whilst she was opening the shutters, told them that the house had been up all night, what with the Bow-street officers and her mistress's fits. Her master, she added, was carried off to prison, she believed. Lucy asked who was with Mrs. Ludgate, and whether she could go up to her room?

"There's n.o.body with her, ma'am, but nurse, that called by chance, early this morning, to see the children, and had the good-nature to stay to help, and has been sitting in mistress's room, whilst I went to my bed.

I'll step up and see if you can go in, ma'am."

They waited for some time in the parlour, where every thing looked desolate and in disorder. The ashes covered the hearth; the poker lay upon the table, near Mr. Ludgate's desk, the lock of which had been broken open; a bra.s.s flat candlestick, covered with tallow, was upon the window-seat, and beside it a broken cruet of vinegar; a cravat, and red silk handkerchief, which had been taken from Mr. Ludgate's neck when he swooned, lay under the table. Lucy and her husband looked at one another for some moments without speaking. At last Allen said, "We had better lock up this press, where there are silver spoons and china, for there is n.o.body now left to take care of any thing, and the creditors will be here soon to seize all they can." Lucy said that she would go up into the dining-room, and take an inventory of the furniture. In the dining-room she found Jack the footboy collecting shillings from beneath the candlesticks on the card-tables: the two little children were sitting on the floor, the girl playing with a pack of cards, the boy drinking the dregs of a decanter of white wine.--"Poor children! Poor creatures!" said Lucy; "is there n.o.body to take care of you?"

"No; n.o.body but Jack," said the boy, "and he's going away. Papa's gone I don't know where; and mama's not up yet, so we have had no breakfast."

The cook-maid came in to say that Mrs. Ludgate was awake, and sensible now, and would be glad to see Mrs. Allen, if she'd be so good as to walk up. Lucy told the children, who clung to her, that she would take them home with her, and give them some breakfast, and then hastened up stairs. She found her wretched friend humbled indeed to the lowest state of imbecile despair. Her speech had returned; but she spoke with difficulty, and scarcely so as to be intelligible. The good-natured nurse supported her in the bed, saying repeatedly, "Keep a good heart, madam; keep a good heart! Don't let your spirits sink so as this, and all may be well yet."

"O Lucy! Lucy! What will become of me now? What a change is here! And n.o.body to help or advise me! n.o.body upon earth! I am forsaken by all the world!"

"Not forsaken by me," said Lucy, in a soothing voice.

"What noise is that below?" cried Mrs. Ludgate.

Lucy went downstairs to inquire, and found that, as Allen had foretold, the creditors were come to seize all they could find. Allen undertook to remain with them, and to bring them to some settlement, whilst Lucy had her unfortunate friend and the two children removed immediately to her own house.

As to Mr. Ludgate, there was no hope for him; the proofs of his guilt were manifest and incontrovertible. The forged note, which his wife had taken from his desk and given to the milliner, was one which had not gone through certain mysterious preparations. It was a bungling forgery.

The plate would doubtless have been retouched, had not this bill been prematurely circulated by Mrs. Ludgate: thus her vanity led to a discovery of her husband's guilt. All the a.s.sociates in Lewis's iniquitous confederacy suffered the just punishment of their crimes.

Many applications were made to obtain a pardon for Leonard Ludgate: but the executive power preserved that firmness which has not, upon any similar occasion, ever been relaxed.

Lucy and Allen, those real friends, who would not encourage Mrs. Ludgate in extravagance, now, in the hour of adversity and repentance, treated her with the utmost tenderness and generosity. They were economical, and therefore could afford to be generous. All the wants of this dest.i.tute widow were supplied from the profits of their industry: they nursed her with daily humanity, bore with the peevishness of disease, and did all in their power to soothe the anguish of unavailing remorse.

Nothing could be saved from the wreck of Mr. Ludgate's fortune for the widow; but Allen, in looking over old Ludgate's books, had found and recovered some old debts, which Leonard, after his father's death, thought not worth looking after. The sum amounted to about three hundred and twenty pounds. As the whole concern had been made over to him, he could lawfully have appropriated this money to his own use, but he reserved it for his friend's children. He put it out to interest; and in the mean time he and Lucy not only clothed and fed, but educated these orphans, with their own children, in habits of economy and industry.

The orphans repaid, by their affection and grat.i.tude, the care that was bestowed upon them; and, when they grew up, they retrieved the credit of their family, by living according to their grandfather's useful maxim--"Out of debt out of danger."

_Nov. 1801._

THE LOTTERY

CHAPTER I.

Near Derby, on the way towards Darley-grove, there is a cottage which formerly belonged to one Maurice Robinson. The jessamine which now covers the porch was planted by Ellen, his wife: she was an industrious, prudent, young woman; liked by all her neighbours, because she was ready to a.s.sist and serve them, and the delight of her husband's heart; for she was sweet-tempered, affectionate, constantly clean and neat, and made his house so cheerful that he was always in haste to come home to her, after his day's work. He was one of the manufacturers employed in the cotton works at Derby; and he was remarkable for his good conduct and regular attendance at his work.

Things went on very well in every respect, till a relation of his, Mrs.

Dolly Robinson, came to live with him. Mrs. Dolly had been laundry-maid in a great family, where she learned to love gossiping, and tea-drinkings, and where she acquired some taste for shawls and cherry-brandy. She thought that she did her young relations a great favour by coming to take up her abode with them, because, as she observed, they were young and inexperienced; and she, knowing a great deal of the world, was able and willing to advise them; and besides, she had had a legacy of some hundred pounds left to her, and she had saved some little matters while in service, which might make it worth her relations' while to take her advice with proper respect, and to make her comfortable for the rest of her days.

Ellen treated her with all due deference, and endeavoured to make her as comfortable as possible; but Mrs. Dolly could not be comfortable unless, besides drinking a large spoonful of brandy in every dish of tea, she could make each person in the house do just what she pleased. She began by being dissatisfied because she could not persuade Ellen that brandy was wholesome, in tea, for the nerves; next she was affronted because Ellen did not admire her shawl; and, above all, she was grievously offended because Ellen endeavoured to prevent her from spoiling little George.

George was, at this time, between five and six years old; and his mother took a great deal of pains to bring him up well: she endeavoured to teach him to be honest, to speak the truth, to do whatever she and his father bid him, and to dislike being idle.

Mrs. Dolly, on the contrary, coaxed and flattered him, without caring whether he was obedient or disobedient, honest or dishonest. She was continually telling him that he was the finest little fellow in the world; and that she would do great things for him, some time or another.

What these great things were to be the boy seemed neither to know nor care; and, except at the moments when she was stuffing gingerbread into his mouth, he seemed never to desire to be near her: he preferred being with William Deane, his father's friend, who was a very ingenious man, and whom he liked to see at work.

William gave him a slate, and a slate pencil; and taught him how to make figures, and to cast up sums; and made a little wheel-barrow for him, of which George was very fond, so that George called him in play "_King Deane_." All these things tended to make Mrs. Dolly dislike William Deane, whom she considered as her rival in power.

One day, it was George's birthday, Mrs. Dolly invited a party, as she called it, to drink tea with her; and, at tea-time, she was entertaining the neighbours with stories of what she had seen in the great world.

Amongst others, she had a favourite story of a butler, in the family where she had lived, who bought a ticket in the lottery when he was drunk, which ticket came up a ten thousand pound prize when he was sober; and the butler turned gentleman, and kept his coach directly.

One evening, Maurice Robinson and William came home, after their day's work, just in time to hear the end of this story; and Mrs. Dolly concluded it by turning to Maurice, and a.s.suring him that he must put into the lottery and try his luck: for why should not he be as lucky as another? "Here," said she, "a man is working and drudging all the days of his life to get a decent coat to put on, and a bit of bread to put into his child's mouth; and, after all, may be he can't do it; though all the while, for five guineas, or a guinea, or half-a-guinea even, if he has but the spirit to lay out his money properly, he has the chance of making a fortune without any trouble. Surely a man should try his luck, if not for his own, at least for his children's sake," continued Mrs. Dolly, drawing little George towards her, and hugging him in her arms. "Who knows what might turn up! Make your papa buy a ticket in the lottery, love; there's my darling; and I'll be bound he'll have good luck. Tell him, I'll be bound we shall have a ten thousand pound prize at least; and all for a few guineas. I'm sure I think none but a miser would grudge the money, if he had it to give."

As Mrs. Dolly finished her speech, she looked at William Deane, whose countenance did not seem to please her. Maurice was whistling, and Ellen knitting as fast as possible. Little George was counting William Deane's b.u.t.tons. "Pray, Mr. Deane," cried Mrs. Dolly, turning full upon him, "what may your advice and opinion be? since nothing's to be done here without your leave and word of command, forsooth. Now, as you know so much and have seen so much of the world, would you be pleased to tell this good company, and myself into the bargain, what harm it can do anybody, but a miser, to lay out a small sum to get a good chance of a round thousand, or five thousand, or ten thousand, or twenty thousand pounds, without more ado?"

As she p.r.o.nounced the words five thousand, ten thousand, twenty thousand pounds, in a triumphant voice, all the company, except Ellen and William, seemed to feel the force of her oratory.