He Knew He Was Right by Anthony Trollope (books you need to read .txt) 📕

MR BOZZLE AT HOME

It had now come to pass that Trevelyan had not a friend in the world to

whom he could apply in the matter of his wife and family. In the last

communication which he had received from Lady Milborough she had

scolded him, in terms that were for her severe, because he had not

returned to his wife and taken her off with him to Naples. Mr

Bideawhile had found himself obliged to decline to move in the matter

at all. With Hugh Stanbury, Trevelyan had had a direct quarrel. Mr and

Mrs Outhouse he regarded as bitter enemies, who had taken the part of

his wife without any regard to the decencies of life. And now it had

come to pass that his sole remaining ally, Mr Samuel Bozzle, the

ex-policeman, was becoming weary of his service. Trevelyan remained in

the north of Italy up to the middle of March, spending a fortune in

sending telegrams to Bozzle, instigating Bozzle by all the means in his

power to obtain possession of the child, desiring him at one time to

pounce down upon the parsonage of St. Diddulph’s with a battalion of

policemen armed to the teeth with the law’s authority, and at another

time suggesting to him to find his way by stratagem into Mr Outhouse’s

castle and carry off the child in his arms. At last he sent word to say

that he himself would be in England before the end of March, and would

see that the majesty of the law should be vindicated in his favour.

Bozzle had in truth made but one personal application for the child at

St. Diddulph’s. In making this he had expected no success, though, from

the energetic nature of his disposition, he had made the attempt with

some zeal. But he had never applied again at the parsonage,

disregarding the letters, the telegrams, and even the promises which

had come to him from his employer with such frequency. The truth was

that Mrs Bozzle was opposed to the proposed separation of the mother

and the child, and that Bozzle was a man who listened to the words of

his wife. Mrs Bozzle was quite prepared to admit that Madame T. as Mrs

Trevelyan had come to be called at No. 55, Stony Walk was no better

than she should be. Mrs Bozzle was disposed to think that ladies of

quality, among whom Madame T. was entitled in her estimation to take

rank, were seldom better than they ought to be, and she was quite

willing that her husband should earn his bread by watching the lady or

the lady’s lover. She had participated in Bozzle’s triumph when he had

discovered that the Colonel had gone to Devonshire, and again when he

had learned that the Lothario had been at St. Diddulph’s. And had the

case been brought before the judge ordinary by means of her husband’s

exertions, she would have taken pleasure in reading every word of the

evidence, even though her husband should have been ever so roughly

handled by the lawyers. But now, when a demand was made upon Bozzle to

violate the sanctity of the clergyman’s house, and withdraw the child

by force or stratagem, she began to perceive that the palmy days of the

Trevelyan affair were over for them, and that it would be wise on her

husband’s part gradually to back out of the gentleman’s employment.

‘Just put it on the fire-back, Bozzle,’ she said one morning, as her

husband stood before her reading for the second time a somewhat lengthy

epistle which had reached him from Italy, while he held the baby over

his shoulder with his left arm. He had just washed himself at the sink,

and though his face was clean, his hair was rough, and his shirt

sleeves were tucked up.

‘That’s all very well, Maryanne; but when a party has took a gent’s

money, a party is bound to go through with the job.’

‘Gammon, Bozzle.’

‘It’s all very well to say gammon; but his money has been took and

there’s more to come.’

‘And ain’t you worked for the money down to Hexeter one time, across

the water pretty well day and night watching that ere clergyman’s ‘ouse

like a cat? What more’d he have? As to the child, I won’t hear of it,

B. The child shan’t come here. We’d all be shewed up in the papers as

that black, that they’d hoot us along the streets. It ain’t the regular

line of business, Bozzle; and there ain’t no good to be got, never, by

going off the regular line.’ Whereupon Bozzle scratched his head and

again read the letter. A distinct promise of a hundred pounds was made

to him, if he would have the child ready to hand over to Trevelyan on

Trevelyan’s arrival in England.

‘It ain’t to be done, you know,’ said Bozzle.

‘Of course it ain’t,’ said Mrs Bozzle.

‘It ain’t to be done, anyways, not in my way of business. Why didn’t he

go to Skint, as I told him, when his own lawyer was too dainty for the

job? The paternal parent has a right to his hinfants, no doubt.’ That

was Bozzle’s law.

‘I don’t believe it, B.’

‘But he have, I tell you.’

‘He can’t suckle ‘em can he? I don’t believe a bit of his rights.’

‘When a married woman has followers, and the husband don’t go the wrong

side of the post too, or it ain’t proved again him that he do, they’ll

never let her have nothing to do with the children. It’s been before

the court a hundred times. He’ll get the child fast enough if he’ll go

before the court.’

‘Anyways it ain’t your business, Bozzle, and don’t you meddle nor make.

The money’s good money as long as it’s honest earned; but when you come

to rampaging and breaking into a gent’s house, then I say money may be

had a deal too hard.’ In this special letter, which had now come to

hand, Bozzle was not instructed to ‘rampage.’ He was simply desired to

make a further official requisition for the boy at the parsonage, and

to explain to Mr Outhouse, Mrs Outhouse, and Mrs Trevelyan, or to as

many of them as he could contrive to see, that Mr Trevelyan was

immediately about to return to London, and that he would put the law

into execution if his son were not given up to him at once. ‘I’ll tell

you what it is, B.,’ exclaimed Mrs Bozzle, ‘it’s my belief as he ain’t

quite right up here;’ and Mrs Bozzle touched her forehead.

‘It’s love for her as has done it then,’ said Bozzle, shaking his head.

‘I’m not a taking of her part, B. A woman as has a husband as finds her

with her wittels regular, and with what’s decent and comfortable

beside, ought to be contented. I’ve never said no other than that. I

ain’t no patience with your saucy madames as can’t remember as they’re

eating an honest man’s bread. Drat ‘em all; what is it they wants? They

don’t know what they wants. It’s just hidleness cause there ain’t a

ha’porth for ‘em to do. It’s that as makes ‘em, I won’t say what. But

as for this here child, B… .’ At that moment there came a knock at

the door. Mrs Bozzle going into the passage, opened it herself, and saw

a strange gentleman. Bozzle, who had stood at the inner door, saw that

the gentleman was Mr Trevelyan.

The letter, which was still in the ex-policeman’s hand, had reached

Stony Walk on the previous day; but the master of the house had been

absent, finding out facts, following up his profession, and earning an

honest penny. Trevelyan had followed his