Varney the Vampyre 134Mr. Twissel’s Misfortunes, and His Resolution Never to Give in
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Literature · Horror
Varney the Vampyre 134
Mr. Twissel’s Misfortunes, and His Resolution Never to Give in
RymerEnglish
The next day after that on which the conversation respecting the choice of a bridesmaid took place, was the day on which the colonel was to visit the South Sea House.
Early that morning he ordered a coach to be in attendance, and left the house, saying that he would be back in time for tea; that he had to make several purchases, and transact some necessary business that would occupy him until that time. He kissed Margaret, and whispered in her ear that he should call and see about the jewels, and urge the jeweller to get them ready.
“These people are so dilatory,” he said, “that, unless I worry them, they will disappoint me of them; and I would not be without them on the occasion of our marriage for a trifle.”
“We must not set our happiness upon such things,” said Margaret.
“Ah, what self-denial you can exert!” said the colonel, playfully.
“No; my happiness is not fixed upon such objects as those, and, therefore, it is no trouble to renounce them when it is necessary to do so.”
“I hope there will be no need. I believe there will be none; but good bye till tea-time, and then we shall pass a pleasant evening together.”
The colonel left the house, and no sooner had he done so, than Mrs. Meredith wrote a short note to Mr. Twissel, informing him of the colonel’s departure at a much earlier hour than she had anticipated.
“Here, Mary,” she said to the drudge.
“Yes, ma’am,” replied the domestic.
“Just run as fast as you can to Mr. Twissel with this note, and don’t let the grass grow under your feet. Do you hear?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Away went the drudge as fast as she could to the man of law, and arrived there out of breath; and having gone there fast, according to orders, she thought herself at liberty to take her own time in going back, which she performed to perfection.
Mr. Twissel cursed himself for this unexpected departure; but there was no time for deliberation. He crushed on his hat, took a coach, and drove as hard as the mysteriously-kept-up cattle could carry it, and was fortunate enough to see the colonel go by in another. He jumped out, paid the jarvey, and then made a rush after the colonel, whom he saw going up the steps.
Determined that he would not be outdone this time, he rushed through a crowd of men who were near at hand, and jostled them so, that they gave him more oaths than was consistent with courtesy, and one of them desired to know if he were running after himself or anybody else.
Heedless of this, he pushed on, and trod upon a bricklayer’s foot so hard, that the man gave a great shout, and, by way of retaliation, brought his heavy hand down so hard upon the attorney’s hat, that the article of wearing apparel was forced below his chin, much to the detriment of his vision, which was totally eclipsed.
In an instant he was struggling with his hat, and yet was unable to release himself from the durance in which his head was held; but he found this was not all he had to contend with, for he felt himself pushed and hustled about in a strange manner, till he was thrown on a door step, and then he was suddenly left to himself, with no soul near him.
“Upon my word, this must be done on purpose, I do verily believe,” said Mr. Twissel, as he at length succeeded in wrenching his hat off his head, after many violent efforts; but even then it was at the expense of the lining and skin off his nose, which was a very disagreeable affair, after all.
Mr. Twissel, for a moment or two, stared round him, and wondered where he was, until, at length, upon some examination, he found himself round the corner.
“Oh, I must have got hustled round the corner—yes, yes, I see how it is; it’s a downright conspiracy of theirs—there can’t be two minds.”
But then, again, he thought what conspiracy could there be necessary to marry a girl without money? If she had money, he could have understood it, but not as the matter stood—that was quite impossible. It was an impenetrable mystery.
As these thoughts passed through his mind, he was sitting on the step of a door, and, seeing the blood trickle off his nose in vermilion drops upon the pavement, he felt for his handkerchief to wipe the injured feature, and stop the bleeding.
But, alas! it was not in this pocket, nor in that; it was not in his hat—he never carried it there; if he had, his head would never have reached the crown of his hat—that was quite certain; it would have been better had he done so.
But, as it was not about him, where could it be? He knew that he had had it before he left home on this errand; the truth, however, was not long before it came across his mind like a flash of light. He had got among a gang of London thieves, who had hustled and robbed him of his handkerchief.
This was suggestive of other matters, and he, in consequence, put his hand to his watch-fob, but also that was gone, too. He gasped—felt his breeches pocket, and then he sank back, for he found his garments had been slit open by some sharp instrument, and his purse had fled.
“D——n!” said the attorney, in a fury; but this subsided in a moment. The loss he had felt, and the pushing about he had experienced, was too much; he felt weakened and disheartened, and paused to think upon what he should do, and which way he should go.
“It’s no use giving in,” he muttered; “no use at all. I must go on. And yet, I had better go and see if the coach is gone, for if it is still there—and it can’t have gone away yet—I’ll yet go in and see if I can find him.”
He walked round the corner, much shaken with what he had received in the way of knocks and kicks, but when he did get round, he saw the coach was gone. There was, however, a ticket-porter at hand, and he determined to go and ask him a few questions.
“My friend,” he said, feeling in his pocket; “do you know a Colonel Deverill?”
“No,” said the man; “never heard of him—where does he live?”
“He came in here just now.”
“Ah, did he?” replied the man, kicking a piece of orange peel off the pavement; “I don’t know him.”
“Do you recollect a hackney-coach coming up to the door just now, with a lame gentleman, who got out?”
“Yes; with a green shade over his eye.”
“Yes—that was the man.”
“Oh, well, I never seed him afore—I don’t know him—he didn’t stop a minute.”
“Oh!” said Mr. Twissel, and then he turned away, and walked towards his own house. However, he felt in his pocket for some money; a small sum in silver was loose in his pockets, and this he had saved, perhaps, because it it had not been looked for; and he determined to treat himself to some brandy-and-water, for he was really much knocked about, and terrified and nervous, so he went into the first public-house he came to.
This was a low house, the parlour of which was situated a long way back, and he walked in and threw himself into a seat.
“Well, well; here I am. This is disaster the second. Well, who would have believed I should have met with such misadventures as those I have just gone through? There’s a fate in it. I am sure this is an unlucky business altogether—of that I am certain. I got into the watchhouse on the first occasion, but now I am worse than that; I have been knocked about and robbed of money and goods—fifteen pounds in my purse—confound Colonel Deverill, I say.”
“What will you take, sir?”
“Eh?” inquired the bewildered attorney, who forgot that he had entered a public-house, and the waiter was desiring to know what he wished to have.
“What will you like to take, sir?” inquired the waiter, again.
“A glass of brandy-and-water, and a biscuit.”
The man left the room, and Twissel retired within himself to contemplate the evils he had suffered, and those he was likely to endure.
“Well, I never thought I was in such a thing as this. Who would ever have believed it? None, I am sure—no one could. Confound them! I’ll give it up as a bad job, and a bad job it has been for me, I am quite confident of that.”
“Brandy-and-water, and a biscuit,” said the waiter, laying down the articles enumerated, and Twissel gave the necessary cash, accompanied by the customary gratuity, which ranges from ten to twenty-five per cent upon the money paid for the articles purchased.
We have often thought this a most exorbitant tax upon those who require accommodation. If people cannot pay their own servants, they ought not to keep them; to be sure, you are told you need not pay anything—it is entirely voluntary, and that they do not wish it; but you only obtain a flippant answer, so as to attract every one’s eyes in the place, and the end of it is, if there is much business, you don’t get any attention at all.
“Well, I won’t give in,” said Mr. Twissel, with a thump on the table; but he had drank nearly two-thirds of the brandy-and-water.
“No, I won’t give in.”
He swallowed down the remainder, finished the biscuit, and leaned back in his seat, and then he began to talk to himself.
“I will not give in; after all that has passed, it would be a shame to be done, robbed, beaten, and kicked; and then give in—nonsense! I will go through the whole affair, and that shall repay me in the end. I’ll lay it on the thicker for this.”
This was a comfortable resolution on the part of Mr. Twissel, and which appeared to please him well, for he smiled quietly, and then rose much refreshed and left the house.
This last allusion of Twissel’s was consolatory, and had an intimate connection with certain imaginary charges he would make to the Deverill family when he got the business; but as that was a matter buried in the womb of futurity, we will not follow him in his speculations.
“I won’t give in,” he said, as he walked on, and thrust his hand into the slit that had been cut in his trousers to extract his purse; but this only confirmed him in his resolution, and he uttered again and again, “I won’t give in.”
“I won’t give in,” he murmured, as he sought the knocker of Mrs. Meredith’s door. “I won’t give in—I’m not a man whose resolution is easily shaken. Oh, dear, no; I’ll tell my good friend, Mrs. Meredith, all my troubles, and then ask her what she thinks of me—if I ain’t an indefatigable friend, one who will never sink under difficulties.”
