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Updated: June 15, 2025
A , who had enriched himself as a stock-jobber, turned up its nose at the family of Mr. B , who had enriched himself still more as a linen-draper, while the family of Mr. B showed a very cold shoulder to the family of Mr. C , who had become richer than either of them as a pawnbroker, and whose wife wore diamonds, but dropped her h's.
Copperas tossed her head, too indignant for words; and the stock-jobber, in the bitterness of his soul, affirmed, with a meaning air, "that he dared say, after all, that the old gentleman was not so rich as he gave out."
Both doctor and stock-jobber showed such a curious ignorance of the conditions under which his life had to be lived and of his reasons for caring to live it. "What's the matter then?" he asked. The doctor became very technical, though not quite unreserved; the heart and the stomach were in some unholy conspiracy; this was as much as Quisanté really understood.
"Marry? ey? what, Maria? what what is it all?" The poor old man was thoroughly bewildered. The mystified father made some inarticulate expression of ignorant amazement, and our stock-jobber went on: "So of course they're married and off Mr. and Mrs. Cle " A whirlwind of disastrous imprecations cut all short; and then in a voice choked with passion he gasped out
And now farewell till we meet again." It seemed singular and almost unnatural to Linden that a man like Talbot, of birth, fortune, and great fastidiousness of taste and temper, should have formed any sort of acquaintance, however slight and distant, with the facetious stock-jobber and his wife; but the fact is easily explained by a reference to the vanity which we shall see hereafter made the ruling passion of Talbot's nature.
He seized them, flung the poor stock-jobber against the bedpost, hurried down stairs, opened the back door, which led into the garden, flew across the intervening space, arrived at the door, and entering Talbot's garden, paused to consider what was the next step to be taken.
He questioned him about the Mary Janes and Old Friendships, about the West Corks and the Ballydehob Branch, about sundry other railways and canals, and finally about the Limehouse bridge; and then again he asked his former question. 'And now, said he, 'will you tell the jury whether you are a stock-jobber or no? 'It is all a matter of opinion, said Undy.
Then the conversation began to flow. Mrs. Copperas was a fine lady, and a sentimentalist, very observant of the little niceties of phrase and manner. Mr. Copperas was a stock-jobber and a wit, loved a good hit in each capacity; was very round, very short, and very much like a John Dory; and saw in the features and mind of the little Copperas the exact representative of himself.
With a rapid voice, Clarence repeated what he had seen, and requested the broker to accompany him to Talbot's house, or at least to lend him his pistols. "He shall do no such thing," cried Mrs. Copperas. "Come here, Mr. C., and shut the door directly." "Stop, my love," said the stock-jobber, "stop a moment."
"Then give me your pistols," cried Clarence; "I will go alone." "I shall commit no such folly," said the stock-jobber; "if you are murdered, I may have to answer it to your friends and pay for your burial. Besides, you owe us for your lodgings: go to your bed, young man, as I shall to mine." And, so saying, Mr. Copperas proceeded to close the door.
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