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Updated: May 18, 2025
"That's the one way out of it, my son," he whispered to Amelius, as they followed Mrs. Payson and Sally down the stairs of the hotel. They had just driven up to the gates of the Home, when Jervy and his accomplice met at the tavern, and entered on their consultation in a private room. In spite of her poverty-stricken appearance, Mrs. Sowler was not absolutely destitute.
Jervy addressed this infamous letter to Mrs. Farnaby, in an ordinary envelope, marked "Private." He posted it, that night, with his own hand. "Rufus! I don't quite like the way you look at me. You seem to think " "Give it tongue, my son. What do I seem to think?" "You think I'm forgetting Regina. You don't believe I'm just as fond of her as ever. The fact is, you're an old bachelor." "That is so.
Jervy yielded with his best grace. "Try a third glass," he said; "there's luck, you know, in odd numbers." Mrs. Sowler met this advance in the spirit in which it was made. She was obliging enough to consult her memory, even before the third glass made its appearance. "Seven years, did you say?" she repeated. "More than twice seven years, Jervy! What do you think of that?"
"I heard it in the kitchen," said Phoebe. Jervy started. "Did any one else hear it?" he asked. "No. They were all in the housekeeper's room, looking at the Indian curiosities which her son in Canada had sent to her. I had left my bird on the dresser and I ran into the kitchen to put the cage in a safe place, being afraid of the cat.
"You can go if you like," she said; "I shall stay here." "Three dozen oysters, bread-and-butter, and bottled stout; a private room and a good fire." Issuing these instructions, on his arrival at the tavern, Jervy was surprised by a sudden act of interference on the part of his venerable guest. Mrs. Sowler actually took it on herself to order her own supper!
How can I be angry with you? You've set me thinking and it bothers me a little, that's all. Do you happen to know if Mrs. Farnaby has got money of her own?" Phoebe answered this time. "I've heard Miss Regina say that Mrs. Farnaby's father was a rich man," she said. "What was his name?" "Ronald." "Do you know when he died?" "No." Jervy fell into thought again, biting his nails in great perplexity.
But there's one thing I insist on I won't have Miss Regina frightened or annoyed; mind that! She's a good creature. There, read the letter she wrote to me yesterday, and judge for yourself." Jervy looked at the letter. It was not very long. He resignedly took upon himself the burden of reading it. "Don't be downhearted. I am your friend always, and I will help you to get another place.
Some men would have found it no easy task to console Phoebe, under the circumstances. Jervy had the immense advantage of not feeling the slightest sympathy for her: he was in full command of his large resources of fluent assurance and ready flattery.
"Never mind," Amelius answered; "the night's receipts are so small that I would rather not be reminded of them again." The British nation has lost its taste, sir, for intellectual recreation. I wish you good evening." Jervy hurried Phoebe out of the way, just as the two gentlemen were crossing the street.
"How dare you bring me here to be insulted by that drunken wretch?" Mrs. Sowler rose, on her side. The old savage snatched up her empty glass intending to throw it at Phoebe. At the same moment, the ready Jervy caught her by the arm, dragged her out of the room, and shut the door behind them. There was a bench on the landing outside. He pushed Mrs.
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