The Three Clerks by Anthony Trollope

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'Perhaps it's all fun,' said Mrs. Woodward. 'But come, girls,
this is not fair; I won't let you look at the story till it's
read in full committee.' And so saying, Mrs. Woodward took the
papers from her daughters, and tying them up, deposited them safe
in custody. 'We'll have it out when the tea-things are gone.'

But before the tea-things had come, an accident happened, which
had been like to dismiss 'Crinoline and Macassar' altogether from
the minds of the whole of the Woodward family. The young men had,
as usual, dined in town, and therefore they were all able to
spend the long summer evening out of doors. Norman's boat was
down at Hampton, and it was therefore determined that they should
row down as far as Hampton Court Park and back. Charley and
Norman were to row; and Mrs. Woodward agreed to accompany her
daughters. Uncle Bat was left at home, to his nap and rum and
water.

Norman was so expert a Thames waterman, that he was quite able to
manage the boat without a steersman, and Charley was nearly his
equal. But there is some amusement in steering, and Katie was
allowed to sit between the tiller-ropes.

'I can steer very well, mamma: can't I, Harry? I always steer
when we go to the island, and we run the boat straight into the
little creek, only just broad enough to hold it.' Katie's visits
to the island, however, were not so frequent as they had
heretofore been, for she was approaching to sixteen years of age,
and wet feet and draggled petticoats had lost some of their
charms. Mrs. Woodward, trusting more to the experience of her two
knights than to the skill of the lady at the helm, took her seat,
and they went off merrily down the stream.

All the world knows that it is but a very little distance from
Hampton Church to Hampton Court Bridge, especially when one has
the stream with one. They were very soon near to the bridge, and
as they approached it, they had to pass a huge barge, that was
lazily making its way down to Brentford.

'There's lots of tune for the big arch,' said Charley.

'Pull away then,' said Harry.

They both pulled hard, and shot alongside and past the barge. But
the stream was strong, and the great ugly mass of black timber
moved behind them quicker than it seemed to do.

'It will be safer to take the one to the left,' said Harry.

'Oh! there's lots of tune,' said Charley.

'No,' said Harry,' do as I tell you and go to the left.--Pull
your left hand a little, Katie.'

Charley did as he was bid, and Katie intended to do the same; but
unfortunately she pulled the wrong hand. They were now very near
the bridge, and the barge was so close to them as to show that
there might have been danger in attempting to get through the
same arch with her.

'Your left hand, Katie, your left,' shouted Norman; 'your left
string.' Katie was confused, and gave first a pull with her
right, and then a pull with her left, and then a strong pull with
her right. The two men backed water as hard as they could, but
the effect of Katie's steering was to drive the nose of the boat
right into one of the wooden piers of the bridge.

The barge went on its way, and luckily made its entry under the
arch before the little craft had swung round into the stream
before it; as it was, the boat, still clinging by its nose, came
round with its stern against the side of the barge, and as the
latter went on, the timbers of Norman's wherry cracked and
crumpled in the rude encounter.

The ladies should all have kept their seats. Mrs. Woodward did do
so. Linda jumped up, and being next to the barge, was pulled up
into it by one of the men. Katie stood bolt upright, with the
tiller-ropes still in her hand, awe-struck at the misfortune she
had caused; but while she was so standing, the stern of the boat
was lifted nearly out of the water by the weight of the barge,
and Katie was pitched, behind her mother's back, head foremost
into the water.

Norman, at the moment, was endeavouring to steady the boat, and
shove it off from the barge, and had also lent a hand to assist
Linda in her escape. Charley was on the other side, standing up
and holding on by the piers of the bridge, keeping his eyes on
the ladies, so as to be of assistance to them when assistance
might be needed.

And now assistance was sorely needed, and luckily had not to be
long waited for. Charley, with a light and quick step, passed
over the thwarts, and, disregarding Mrs. Woodward's scream, let
himself down, over the gun-wale behind her seat into the water.
Katie can hardly be said to have sunk at all. She had, at least,
never been so much under the water as to be out of sight. Her
clothes kept up her light body; and when Charley got close to
her, she had been carried up to the piers of the bridge, and was
panting with her head above water, and beating the stream with
her little hands.

She was soon again in comparative safety. Charley had her by one
arm as he held on with the other to the boat, and kept himself
afloat with his legs. Mrs. Woodward leaned over and caught her
daughter's clothes; while Linda, who had seen what had happened,
stood shrieking on the barge, as it made its way on, heedless of
the ruin it left behind.

Another boat soon came to their assistance from the shore, and
Mrs. Woodward and Katie were got safely into it. Charley returned
to the battered wherry, and assisted Norman in extricating it
from its position; and a third boat went to Linda's rescue, who
would otherwise have found herself in rather an uncomfortable
position the next morning at Brentford.

The hugging and kissing to which Katie was subjected when she was
carried up to the inn, near the boat-slip on the Surrey side of
the river, may be imagined; as may also the faces she made at the
wineglassful of stiff brandy and water which she was desired to
drink. She was carried home in a fly, and by the time she arrived
there, had so completely recovered her life and spirits as to put
a vehement negative on her mother's proposition that she should
at once go to bed.

'And not hear dear Charley's story?' said she, with tears in her
eyes. 'And, mamma, I can't and won't go to bed without seeing
Charley. I didn't say one word yet to thank him for jumping into
the water after me.'

It was in vain that her mother told her that Charley's story
would amuse her twice as much when she should read it printed; it
was in vain that Mrs. Woodward assured her that Charley should
come up to her room door; and hear her thanks as he stood in the
passage, with the door ajar. Katie was determined to hear the
story read. It must be read, if read at all, that Saturday night,
as it was to be sent to the editor in the course of the week; and
reading 'Crinoline and Macassar' out loud on a Sunday was not to
be thought of at Surbiton Cottage. Katie was determined to hear
the story read, and to sit very near the author too during the
reading; to sit near him, and to give him such praise as even in
her young mind she felt that an author would like to hear.
Charley had pulled her out of the river, and no one, as far as
her efforts could prevent it, should be allowed to throw cold
water on him.

Norman and Charley, wet as the latter was, contrived to bring the
shattered boat back to Hampton. When they reached the lawn at
Surbiton Cottage they were both in high spirits. An accident, if
it does no material harm, is always an inspiriting thing, unless
one feels that it has been attributable to one's own fault.
Neither of them could in this instance attach any blame to
himself, and each felt that he had done what in him lay to
prevent the possible ill effect of the mischance. As for the
boat, Harry was too happy to think that none of his friends were
hurt to care much about that.

As they walked across the lawn Mrs. Woodward ran out to them. 'My
dear, dear Charley,' she said, 'what am I to say to thank you?'
It was the first time Mrs. Woodward had ever called him by his
Christian name. It had hitherto made him in a certain degree
unhappy that she never did so, and now the sound was very
pleasant to him.

'Oh, Mrs. Woodward,' said he, laughing, 'you mustn't touch me,
for I'm all mud.'

'My dear, dear Charley, what can I say to you? and dear Harry, I
fear we've spoilt your beautiful new boat.'

'I fear we've spoilt Katie's beautiful new hat,' said Norman.

Mrs. Woodward had taken and pressed a hand of each of them, in
spite of Charley's protestations about the mud.

'Oh! you're in a dreadful state,' said she; 'you had better take
something at once; you'll catch your death of cold.'

'I'd better take myself off to the inn,' said Charley, 'and get
some clean clothes; that's all I want. But how is Katie--and how
is Linda?'

And so, after a multitude of such inquiries on both sides, and of
all manner of affectionate greetings, Charley went off to make
himself dry, preparatory to the reading of the manuscript.

During his absence, Linda and Katie came down to the drawing-
room. Linda was full of fun as to her journey with the bargeman;
but Katie was a little paler than usual, and somewhat more
serious and quiet than she was wont to be.

Norman was the first in the drawing-room, and received the thanks
of the ladies for his prowess in assisting them; and Charley was
not slow to follow him, for he was never very long at his toilet.
He came in with a jaunty laughing air, as though nothing
particular had happened, and as if he had not a care in the
world. And yet while he had been dressing he had been thinking
almost more than ever of Norah Geraghty. O that she, and Mrs.
Davis with her, and Jabesh M'Ruen with both of them, could be
buried ten fathom deep out of his sight, and out of his mind!

When he entered the room, Katie felt her heart beat so strongly
that she hardly knew how to thank him for saving her life. A year
ago she would have got up and kissed him innocently; but a year
makes a great difference. She could not do that now, so she gave
him her little hand, and held his till he came and sat down at
his place at the table.

'Oh, Charley, I don't know what to say to you,' said she; and he
could see and feel that her whole body was shaking with emotion.

'Then I'll tell you what to say: 'Charley, here is your tea, and
some bread, and some butter, and some jam, and some muffin,' for
I'll tell you what, my evening bath has made me as hungry as a
hunter. I hope it has done the same to you.'

Katie, still holding his hand, looked up into his face, and he
saw that her eyes were suffused with tears. She then left his
side, and, running round the room, filled a plate with all the
things he had asked for, and, bringing them to him, again took
her place beside him. 'I wish I knew how to do more than that,'
said she.

'I suppose, Charley, you'll have to make an entry about that
barge on Monday morning, won't you?' said Linda. 'Mind you put in
it how beautiful I looked sailing through the arch.'

'Yes, and how very gallant the bargeman was,' said Norman.

'Yes, and how much you enjoyed the idea of going down the river
with him, while, we came back to the Cottage,' said Charley.
'We'll put it all down at the Navigation, and old Snape shall
make a special minute about it.'

Katie drank her tea in silence, and tried to eat, though without
much success. When chatting voices and jokes were to be heard at
the Cottage, the sound of her voice was usually the foremost; but
now she sat demure and quiet. She was realizing the danger from
which she had escaped, and, as is so often the case, was
beginning to fear it now that it was over.

'Ah, Katie, my bonny bird,' said her mother, seeing that she was
not herself, and knowing that the excitement and overpowering
feelings of gratitude were too much for her-come here; you should
be in bed, my foolish little puss, should you not?'

'Indeed, she should,' said Uncle Bat, who was somewhat hard-
hearted about the affair of the accident, and had been cruel
enough, after hearing an account of it, to declare that it was
all Katie's fault.

'Indeed, she should; and if she had gone to bed a little earlier
in the evening it would have been all the better for Master
Norman's boat.'

'Oh! mamma, don't send me to bed,' said she, with tears in her
eyes. 'Pray don't send me to bed now; I'm quite well, only I
can't talk because I'm thinking of what Charley did for me;' and
so saying she got up, and, hiding her face on her mother's
shoulder, burst into tears.

'My dearest child,' said Mrs. Woodward, 'I'm afraid you'll make
yourself ill. We'll put off the reading, won't we, Charley? We
have done enough for one evening.'

'Of course we will,' said he. 'Reading a stupid story will be
very slow work after all we've gone through today.'

'No, no, no,' said Katie; 'it shan't be put off; there won't be
any other time for hearing it. And, mamma it must be read; and I
know it won't be stupid. Oh; mamma, dear mamma, do let us hear it
read; I'm quite well now.'

Mrs. Woodward found herself obliged to give way. She had not the
heart to bid her daughter go away to bed, nor, had she done so,
would it have been of any avail. Katie would only have lain and
sobbed in her own room, and very probably have gone into
hysterics. The best thing for her was to try to turn the current
of her thoughts, and thus by degrees tame down her excited
feelings.

'Well, darling, then we will have the story, if Charley will let
us. Go and fetch it, dearest.' Katie raised herself from her
mother's bosom, and, going across the room, fetched the roll of
papers to Charley. As he prepared to take it she took his hand in
hers, and, bending her head over it, tenderly kissed it. 'You
mustn't think,' said she, 'that because I say nothing, I don't
know what it is that you've done for me; but I don't know how to
say it.'

Charley was at any rate as ignorant what he ought to say as Katie
was. He felt the pressure of her warm lips on his hand, and
hardly knew where he was. He felt that he blushed and looked
abashed, and dreaded, fearfully dreaded, lest Mrs. Woodward
should surmise that he estimated at other than its intended
worth, her daughter's show of affection for him.

'I shouldn't mind doing it every night,' said he, 'in such
weather as this. I think it rather good fun going into the water
with my clothes on.' Katie looked up at him through her tears, as
though she would say that she well understood what that meant.

Mrs. Woodward saw that if the story was to be read, the sooner
they began it the better.

'Come, Charley,' said she, 'now for the romance. Katie, come and
sit by me.' But Katie had already taken her seat, a little behind
Charley, quite in the shade, and she was not to be moved.

'But I won't read it myself,' said Charley; 'you must read it,
Mrs. Woodward.'

'O yes, Mrs. Woodward, you are to read it,' said Norman.

'O yes, do read it, manna,' said Linda.

Katie said nothing, but she would have preferred that Charley
should have read it himself.

'Well, if I can,' said Mrs. Woodward.

'Snape says I write the worst hand in all Somerset House,' said
Charley; 'but still I think you'll be able to manage it.'

'I hate that Mr. Snape,' said Katie, _sotto voce_. And then
Mrs. Woodward unrolled the manuscript and began her task.

CHAPTER XXII

CRINOLINE AND MACASSAR; OR, MY AUNT'S WILL

'Well, Linda was right,' said Mrs. Woodward, 'it does begin with
poetry.'

'It's only a song,' said Charley, apologetically--'and after all
there is only one verse of that'--and then Mrs. Woodward began

"CRINOLINE AND MACASSAR."

'Ladies and gentlemen, that is the name of Mr. Charles Tudor's
new novel.'

'Crinoline and Macassar!' said Uncle Bat. 'Are they intended for
human beings' names?'

'They are the heroine and the hero, as I take it,' said Mrs.
Woodward, 'and I presume them to be human, unless they turn out
to be celestial.'

'I never heard such names in my life,' said the captain.

'At any rate, uncle, they are as good as Sir Jib Boom and Captain
Hardaport,' said Katie, pertly.

'We won't mind about that,' said Mrs. Woodward; 'I'm going to
begin, and I beg I may not be interrupted.'

"CRINOLINE AND MACASSAR."

"The lovely Crinoline was sitting alone at a lattice window on a
summer morning, and as she sat she sang with melancholy cadence
the first part of the now celebrated song which had then lately
appeared, from the distinguished pen of Sir G-- H--,"

'Who is Sir G-- H--, Charley?'

'Oh, it wouldn't do for me to tell that,' said Charley. 'That
must be left to the tact and intelligence of my readers.'

'Oh, very well,' said Mrs. Woodward, 'we will abstain from all
impertinent questions'--'from the distinguished pen of Sir G-- H--.
The ditty which she sang ran as follows:--

My heart's at my office, my heart is always there--
My heart's at my office, docketing with care;
Docketing the papers, and copying all day,
My heart's at my office, though I be far away.

"'Ah me!' said the Lady Crinoline--"

'What--is she a peer's daughter?' said Uncle Bat.

'Not exactly,' said Charley, 'it's only a sort of semi-poetic way
one has of speaking of one's heroine.'

"'Ah me!' said the Lady Crinoline--' his heart! his heart!--I
wonder whether he has got a heart;' and then she sang again in
low plaintive voice the first line of the song, suiting the
cadence to her own case:--

His heart is at his office, his heart is _always_ there.

"'It was evident that the Lady Crinoline did not repeat the words
in the feeling of their great author, who when he wrote them had
intended to excite to high deeds of exalted merit that portion of
the British youth which is employed in the Civil Service of the
country.

"Crinoline laid down her lute--it was in fact an accordion--and
gazing listlessly over the rails of the balcony, looked out at
the green foliage which adorned the enclosure of the square
below.

"It was Tavistock Square. The winds of March and the showers of
April had been successful in producing the buds of May."

'Ah, Charley, that's taken from the old song,' said Katie, 'only
you've put buds instead of flowers.'

'That's quite allowable,' said Mrs. Woodward--"successful in
producing the buds of May. The sparrows chirped sweetly on the
house-top, and the coming summer gladdened the hearts of all--of
all except poor Crinoline.

"'I wonder whether he has a heart, said she; 'and if he has, I
wonder whether it is at his office.'

"As she thus soliloquized, the door was opened by a youthful
page, on whose well-formed breast, buttons seemed to grow like
mushrooms in the meadows in August.

"'Mr. Macassar Jones,' said the page; and having so said, he
discreetly disappeared. He was in his line of life a valuable
member of society. He had brought from his last place a
twelvemonth's character that was creditable alike to his head and
heart; he was now found to be a trustworthy assistant in the
household of the Lady Crinoline's mother, and was the delight of
his aged parents, to whom he regularly remitted no inconsiderable
portion of his wages. Let it always be remembered that the life
even of a page may be glorious. All honour to the true and
brave!"

'Goodness, Charley--how very moral you are!' said Linda.

'Yes,' said he; 'that's indispensable. It's the intention of the
_Daily Delight_ always to hold up a career of virtue to the
lower orders as the thing that pays. Honesty, high wages, and hot
dinners. Those are our principles.'

'You'll have a deal to do before you'll bring the lower orders to
agree with you,' said Uncle Bat.

'We have a deal to do,' said Charley, 'and we'll do it. The power
of the cheap press is unbounded.'

"As the page closed the door, a light, low, melancholy step was
heard to make its way across the drawing-room. Crinoline's heart
had given one start when she had heard the announcement of the
well-known name. She had once glanced with eager inquiring eye
towards the door. But not in vain to her had an excellent mother
taught the proprieties of elegant life. Long before Macassar
Jones was present in the chamber she had snatched up the tambour-
frame that lay beside her, and when he entered she was zealously
engaged on the fox's head that was to ornament the toe of a left-
foot slipper. Who shall dare to say that those slippers were
intended to grace the feet of Macassar Jones?"

'But I suppose they were,' said Katie.

'You must wait and see,' said her mother; 'for my part I am not
at all so sure of that.'

'Oh, but I know they must be; for she's in love with him,' said
Katie.

"'Oh, Mr. Macassar,' said the Lady Crinoline, when he had drawn
nigh to her, 'and how are you to-day?' This mention of his
Christian name betrayed no undue familiarity, as the two families
were intimate, and Macassar had four elder brothers. 'I am so
sorry mamma is not at home; she will regret not seeing you
amazingly.'

"Macassar had his hat in his hand, and he stood a while gazing at
the fox in the pattern. 'Won't you sit down?' said Crinoline.

"'Is it very dusty in the street to-day?' asked Crinoline; and as
she spoke she turned upon him a face wreathed in the sweetest
smiles, radiant with elegant courtesy, and altogether expressive
of extreme gentility, unsullied propriety, and a very high tone
of female education. 'Is it very dusty in the street to-day?'

"Charmed by the involuntary grace of her action, Macassar essayed
to turn his head towards her as he replied; he could not turn it
much, for he wore an all-rounder; but still he was enabled by a
side glance to see more of that finished elegance than was
perhaps good for his peace of mind.

"'Yes,' said he, 'it is dusty;--it certainly is dusty, rather;--
but not very--and then in most streets they've got the water-
carts.'

"'Ah, I love those water-carts!' said Crinoline; 'the dust, you
know, is so trying.'

"'To the complexion?' suggested Macassar, again looking round as
best he might over the bulwark of his collar.

"Crinoline laughed slightly; it was perhaps hardly more than a
simper, and turning her lovely eyes from her work, she said,
'Well, to the complexion, if you will. What would you gentlemen
say if we ladies were to be careless of our complexions?'

"Macassar merely sighed gently--perhaps he had no fitting answer;
perhaps his heart was too full for him to answer. He sat with his
eye fixed on his hat, which still dangled in his hand; but his
mind's eye was far away.

"'Is it in his office?' thought Crinoline to herself; 'or is it
here? Is it anywhere?'

"'Have you learnt the song I sent you? said he at last, waking,
as it were, from a trance.

"'Not yet,' said she--'that is, not quite; that is, I could not
sing it before strangers yet.'

"'Strangers!' said Macassar; and he looked at her again with an
energy that produced results not beneficial either to his neck or
his collar.

"Crinoline was delighted at this expression of feeling. 'At any
rate it is somewhere,' said she to herself; 'and it can hardly be
all at his office.'

"'Well, I will not say strangers,' she said out loud; 'it sounds
--it sounds--I don't know how it sounds. But what I mean is, that
as yet I've only sung it before mamma!'"

'I declare I don't know which is the biggest fool of the two,'
said Uncle Bat, very rudely.' As for him, if I had him on the
forecastle of a man-of-war for a day or two, I'd soon teach him
to speak out.'

'You forget, sir,' said Charley,' he's not a sailor, he's only
in the Civil Service; we're all very bashful in the Civil
Service.'

'I think he is rather spooney, I must say,' said Katie; whereupon
Mrs. Woodward went on reading.

"'It's a sweet thing, isn't it?' said Macassar.

"'Oh, very!' said Crinoline, with a rapturous expression which
pervaded her whole head and shoulders as well as her face and
bust--'very sweet, and so new.'

"'It quite comes home to me,' said Macassar, and he sighed
deeply.

"'Then it is at his office,' said Crinoline to herself; and she
sighed also.

"They both sat silent for a while, looking into the square--
Crinoline was at one window, and Macassar at the other: 'I must
go now,' said he: 'I promised to be back at three.'

"'Back where?' said she.

"'At my office,' said he.

"Crinoline sighed. After all, it was at his office; it was too
evident that it was there, and nowhere else. Well, and why should
it not be there? why should not Macassar Jones be true to his
duty and to his country? What had she to do with his heart? Why
should she wish it elsewhere? 'Twas thus she tried to console
herself, but in vain. Had she had an office of her own it might
perhaps have been different; but Crinoline was only a woman; and
often she sighed over the degradation of her lot.

"'Good morning, Miss Crinoline,' said he.

"'Good morning, Mr. Macassar,' said she; 'mamma will so regret
that she has lost the pleasure of seeing you.'

"And then she rung the bell. Macassar went downstairs perhaps
somewhat slower, with perhaps more of melancholy than when he
entered. The page opened the hall-door with alacrity, and shut it
behind him with a slam.

"All honour to the true and brave!

"Crinoline again took up the note of her sorrow, and with her
lute in her hand, she warbled forth the line which stuck like a
thorn in her sweet bosom:--