The Yellowplush Papers | Page 9

every respect like a genlmn, and she is as innocent now,
ma'm, as she was when she was born. If she'll marry me, I am ready; if
she'll leave you, she shall have a home where she shall be neither
bullyd nor starved: no hangry frumps of sisters, no cross mother-in-law,
only an affeckshnat husband, and all the pure pleasures of Hyming."

Mary flung herself into his arms--"Dear, dear Frederic," says she, "I'll
never leave you."
"Miss," says Mrs. Shum, "you ain't a Slamcoe nor yet a Buckmaster,
thank God. You may marry this person if your pa thinks proper, and he
may insult me--brave me--trample on my feelinx in my own house--
and there's no-o-o-obody by to defend me."
I knew what she was going to be at: on came her histarrix agen, and she
began screechin and roaring like mad. Down comes of course the
eleven gals and old Shum. There was a pretty row. "Look here, sir,"
says she, "at the conduck of your precious trull of a daughter--alone
with this man, kissin and dandlin, and Lawd knows what besides."
"What, he?" cries Miss Betsy--"he in love with Mary. Oh, the wretch,
the monster, the deceiver!"--and she falls down too, screeching away as
loud as her mamma; for the silly creature fancied still that Altamont
had a fondness for her.
"SILENCE THESE WOMEN!" shouts out Altamont, thundering loud.
"I love your daughter, Mr. Shum. I will take her without a penny, and
can afford to keep her. If you don't give her to me, she'll come of her
own will. Is that enough?--may I have her?"
"We'll talk of this matter, sir," says Mr. Shum, looking as high and
mighty as an alderman. "Gals, go up stairs with your dear
mamma."--And they all trooped up again, and so the skrimmage ended.
You may be sure that old Shum was not very sorry to get a husband for
his daughter Mary, for the old creatur loved her better than all the pack
which had been brought him or born to him by Mrs. Buckmaster. But,
strange to say, when he came to talk of settlements and so forth, not a
word would my master answer. He said he made four hundred a year
reglar--he wouldn't tell how--but Mary, if she married him, must share
all that he had, and ask no questions; only this he would say, as he'd
said before, that he was a honest man.
They were married in a few days, and took a very genteel house at
Islington; but still my master went away to business, and nobody knew
where. Who could he be?
CHAPTER III
.
If ever a young kipple in the middlin classes began life with a chance of

happiness, it was Mr. and Mrs. Frederic Altamont. There house at
Cannon Row, Islington, was as comfortable as house could be.
Carpited from top to to; pore's rates small; furnitur elygant; and three
deomestix: of which I, in course, was one. My life wasn't so easy as in
Mr. A.'s bachelor days; but, what then? The three W's is my maxum:
plenty of work, plenty of wittles, and plenty of wages. Altamont kep
his gig no longer, but went to the city in an omlibuster.
One would have thought, I say, that Mrs. A., with such an effeckshnut
husband, might have been as happy as her blessid majisty. Nothing of
the sort. For the fust six months it was all very well; but then she grew
gloomier and gloomier, though A. did everythink in life to please her.
Old Shum used to come reglarly four times a wick to Cannon Row,
where he lunched, and dined, and teed, and supd. The pore little man
was a thought too fond of wine and spirits; and many and many's the
night that I've had to support him home. And you may be sure that Miss
Betsy did not now desert her sister: she was at our place mornink, noon,
and night; not much to my mayster's liking, though he was too
good-natured to wex his wife in trifles.
But Betsy never had forgotten the recollection of old days, and hated
Altamont like the foul feind. She put all kind of bad things into the
head of poor innocent missis; who, from being all gayety and
cheerfulness, grew to be quite melumcolly and pale, and retchid, just as
if she had been the most misrable woman in the world.
In three months more, a baby comes, in course, and with it old Mrs.
Shum, who stuck to Mrs.' side as close as a wampire, and made her
retchider and retchider. She used to bust into tears when Altamont
came home: she used to sigh and wheep over the pore child, and say,
"My child, my child, your