"I shall take a mere mouthful of ham and a glass of ale,"he said, reassuringly. "As a man with public business, I take a snack when I can. I will back this ham," he added, after swallowing some morsels with alarming haste, "against any ham in the three kingdoms.
In my opinion it is better than the hams at Freshitt Hall--and I think I am a tolerable judge."
"Some don't like so much sugar in their hams," said Mrs. Waule.
"But my poor brother would always have sugar.""If any person demands better, he is at liberty to do so;but, God bless me, what an aroma! I should be glad to buy in that quality, I know. There is some gratification to a gentleman"--here Mr. Trumbull's voice conveyed an emotional remonstrance--"in having this kind of ham set on his table."He pushed aside his plate, poured out his glass of ale and drew his chair a little forward, profiting by the occasion to look at the inner side of his legs, which he stroked approvingly--Mr. Trumbull having all those less frivolous airs and gestures which distinguish the predominant races of the north.
"You have an interesting work there, I see, Miss Garth," he observed, when Mary re-entered. "It is by the author of `Waverley': that is Sir Walter Scott. I have bought one of his works myself--a very nice thing, a very superior publication, entitled `Ivanhoe.'
You will not get any writer to beat him in a hurry, I think--he will not, in my opinion, be speedily surpassed. I have just been reading a portion at the commencement of `Anne of Jeersteen.'
It commences well." (Things never began with Mr. Borthrop Trumbull:
they al ways commenced, both in private life and on his handbills.)"You are a reader, I see. Do you subscribe to our Middlemarch library?""No," said Mary. "Mr. Fred Vincy brought this book.""I am a great bookman myself," returned Mr. Trumbull.
"I have no less than two hundred volumes in calf, and Iflatter myself they are well selected. Also pictures by Murillo, Rubens, Teniers, Titian, Vandyck, and others.
I shall be happy to lend you any work you like to mention, Miss Garth.""I am much obliged," said Mary, hastening away again, "but I have little time for reading.""I should say my brother has done something for HER in his will,"said Mr. Solomon, in a very low undertone, when she had shut the door behind her, pointing with his head towards the absent Mary.
"His first wife was a poor match for him, though," said Mrs. Waule.
"She brought him nothing: and this young woman is only her niece,--and very proud. And my brother has always paid her wage.""A sensible girl though, in my opinion," said Mr. Trumbull, finishing his ale and starting up with an emphatic adjustment of his waistcoat.
"I have observed her when she has been mixing medicine in drops.
She minds what she is doing, sir. That is a great point in a woman, and a great point for our friend up-stairs, poor dear old soul.
A man whose life is of any value should think of his wife as a nurse:
that is what I should do, if I married; and I believe I have lived single long enough not to make a mistake in that line. Some men must marry to elevate themselves a little, but when I am in need of that, I hope some one will tell me so--I hope some individual will apprise me of the fact. I wish you good morning, Mrs. Waule.
Good morning, Mr. Solomon. I trust we shall meet under less melancholy auspices."When Mr. Trumbull had departed with a fine bow, Solomon, leaning forward, observed to his sister, "You may depend, Jane, my brother has left that girl a lumping sum.""Anybody would think so, from the way Mr. Trumbull talks,"said Jane. Then, after a pause, "He talks as if my daughters wasn't to be trusted to give drops.""Auctioneers talk wild," said Solomon. "Not but what Trumbull has made money."
