George Cruikshank's Omnibus. George Cruikshank
spreading paw of the lion or the tiger on each foot. One table, however, that was carefully placed so as to be remote from danger, had a raised open-work, about two inches in height, round the edges of its surface, to protect and preserve the handsome and much-prized tea-service, which had been brought by a seafaring ancestor as a present from the "Celestial Empire."
A commodious, soft-cushioned, chintz-covered sofa occupied one side of the parlour, and the various spaces were filled with broad and high-backed mahogany chairs, whose capacious seats were admirable representatives of composure and ease. But there was one with wide-spreading arms, that seemed to invite the weary to its embrace; it was stuffed with soft material, and covered entirely with thick yellow taffeta, on which many an hour of laborious toil had been expended to produce in needle-work imitations of rich fruit and gorgeous flowers; it was a relic of antiquity, and the busy fingers that had so skilfully plied the task had long since yielded to mouldering decay.
The fire-place was capacious, and its inner sides were faced with earthenware tiles, on which were represented scenes and sketches taken from scripture history. It is true that some of the delineations bore a rather incongruous character: the serpent erecting itself on the tip of its tail to beguile Eve; the apple, whose comparative dimensions was calculated to set the mouth of many a schoolboy watering; and not unfrequently a mingling of the Selectæ e Profanis amongst the groups caused curious speculations in the youthful mind. But who can call to recollection the many evening lectures which this constant fund of instruction and amusement afforded, without associating them with pleasing remembrances of innocence and peace?
The fire-grate was large, and of the old-fashioned kind, somewhat of a basket-like form, small at the bottom, but spreading out into wider range as its side boundaries ascended.
Lighted tapers were on the table, together with a lady's work-box, and the small, half-rigged model of a vessel, which the boy had laid down that he might peruse the history and voyages of Philip Quarll, and now, sitting by his mother's knee, he was putting questions to her relative to the sagacious monkeys who were stated to have been poor Philip's personal attendants and only friends.
Emily Heartwell was, in every sense of the term, the "beloved" wife of a lieutenant in the British royal navy, who had bravely served with great credit to himself and advantage to the honour of his country's flag; but unfortunately becoming mixed up with the angry dissensions that had arisen amongst political partisans through the trial of Admiral Keppel by court-martial, he remained for some length of time unemployed, but recently, through the influence and intervention of his former commander and patron, Sir George (afterwards Lord) Rodney, he had received an appointment to a ship-of-the-line that was then fitting out to join that gallant admiral in the West Indies.
The father of Lieutenant Heartwell had risen from humble obscurity to the command of a West Indiaman; and his son having almost from his childhood accompanied him in his voyages, the lad had become early initiated in the perils and mysteries of a seaman's life, so that on parting with his parent he was perfectly proficient in all the important duties that enable the mariner to counteract the raging of the elements, and to navigate his ship in safety from port to port. What became of the father was never accurately known. He was bound to Jamaica with a valuable cargo of home manufactures; he was spoken off the Canaries, and reported all well; but from that day no tidings of him had been heard, and it was supposed that the ship had foundered at sea, and all hands perished.
By some fortuitous circumstance, young Heartwell had been brought under the especial notice of the intrepid Rodney, who not only placed him on the quarter-deck of his own ship, but also generously patronised and maintained him through his probationary term, and at its close, though involved in difficulties himself, first procured him a lieutenant's commission, and then presented him with a handsome outfit, cautioning him most seriously, as he was a good-looking fellow, not to get entangled by marriage, at least, till he had attained post-rank, or was regularly laid up with the gout, when he was perfectly at liberty to take unto himself a wife.
But the lieutenant had a pure, unsophisticated mind, sensibly alive to all the blandishments of female beauty, but with discretion to avoid that which he considered meretricious, and to prize loveliness of feature only when combined with principles of virtue rooted in the heart. Ardently attached to social life, it can excite but little wonder that on mature acquaintance with the lady who now bore his name, he had forgotten the injunction of his commander; and, being possessed of a little property, the produce of well-earned prize-money, he offered himself to the acceptance of one who appeared to realise his most fervent expectations; and, when it is considered that to a remarkably handsome person the young lieutenant united some of the best qualities of human nature, my fair readers will at once find a ready reason for his suit not being rejected. In short, they were married. The father of Mrs. Heartwell, a pious clergyman, performed the ceremony, and certainly in no instance could there have been found two persons possessing a stronger attachment, based on mutual respect and esteem.
An uncle, the brother of the lieutenant's father had, when a boy, gone out to the East Indies, but he kept up very little communication with his family, and they had for some time lost sight of him altogether, when news arrived of his having prospered greatly, and the supposition was that he had amassed a considerable fortune. As this intelligence, however, was indirect, but little credit was given to it, and it probably would have passed away from remembrance, or at least been but little thought of, had not letters arrived announcing the uncle's death, and that no will could be discovered.
The lieutenant, as the only surviving heir, was urged to put in his claim; and, though he himself was not very sanguine in his expectations that his uncle had realised a large fortune, yet it gratified him to think that there might be sufficient to assist in securing a respectable and comfortable maintenance for his wife and child during his absence. From an earnest desire to surprise Mrs. Heartwell with the pleasing intelligence, he had for the first time since their union refrained from informing her of his proceedings; and on the afternoon of the day on which our narrative opens, he had appointed to meet certain parties connected with the affair at the office of Mr. Jocelyn Brady, a reputed clever solicitor in Lincoln's Inn, when the whole was to be finally arranged, and the deeds and papers placed in his possession in the presence of witnesses.
Cherishing not only the hope, but also enjoying the conviction, that in a short time he should be able to gladden her heart, the lieutenant imprinted a warm and affectionate kiss on the lips of his wife, and pressing his boy in his arms with more than his usual gaiety, he bade them farewell for a few hours, promising at his return to communicate something that would delight and astonish them.
But, notwithstanding the hilarity of her husband, an unaccountable depression weighed heavily on the usually cheerful spirits of Mrs. Heartwell; and, whilst returning the embrace of her husband, a presentiment of distress, though she knew not of what nature or kind, filled her bosom with alarm; and a heavy sigh—almost a groan—burst forth before she had time to exercise consciousness, or to muster sufficient energy to restrain it. The prospect of, and the near approach to, the hour of their separation, had certainly oppressed her mind, but she would not distress her husband by openly yielding to the manifestation of grief that might render their parting more keenly painful. She had vigorously exerted all her fortitude to bear up against the anticipated trial which awaited her, of bidding a long adieu to the husband of her affections and the father of her child; but the pressure which now inflicted agony was of a different character to what she had hitherto experienced. It was a foreboding of calamity as near at hand, an undefined and undefinable sensation, producing faintness of spirit and sickness of heart; her limbs trembled, her breath faltered, and she laid her head upon his shoulder and burst into convulsive sobbings, that shook her frame with violent agitation.
I am no casuist to resolve doubtful cases, but I would ask many thousands who have to struggle with the anxious cares, the numerous disappointments, and all the various difficulties that beset existence, whether they have not had similar distressing visitations, previous to the arrival of some unforeseen calamity. What is it, then, that thus operates on the faculties to produce these symptoms? It cannot be a mere affection of the nervous system, caused by alarming apprehensions of the future, for, in most instances, nothing specific has been known or decided. May it not, therefore, be looked upon as a wise and kind ordination of providence,