Mrs. Caudle's Curtain Lectures Part 11

"A bold minx! You suppose I didn't see her laugh, too, when she nodded to you! Oh yes, I knew what she thought me--a poor miserable creature, of course. I could see that. No--don't say so, Caudle. I DON'T always see more than anybody else--but I can't and won't be blind, however agreeable it might be to you; I must have the use of my senses. I'm sure, if a woman wants attention and respect from a man, she'd better be anything than his wife. I've always thought so; and to-day's decided it.

"No; I'm not ashamed of myself to talk so--certainly not.

"A GOOD, AMIABLE YOUNG CREATURE INDEED!

"Yes; I dare say; very amiable, no doubt. Of course, you think her so. You suppose I didn't see what sort of a bonnet she had on? Oh, a very good creature! And you think I didn't see the smudges of court plaster about her face?

"YOU DIDN'T SEE 'EM?

"Very likely; but I did. Very amiable, to be sure! What do you say?

"I MADE HER BLUSH AT MY ILL MANNERS?

"I should have liked to have seen her blush! 'Twould have been rather difficult, Mr. Caudle, for a blush to come through all that paint. No--I'm not a censorious woman, Mr. Caudle; quite the reverse. No; and you may threaten to get up, if you like--I will speak. I know what colour is, and I say it WAS paint. I believe, Mr. Caudle, _I_ once had a complexion--though of course you've quite forgotten that: I think I once had a colour--before your conduct destroyed it. Before I knew you, people used to call me the Lily and Rose; but--what are you laughing at? I see nothing to laugh at. But as I say, anybody before your own wife.

"And I can't walk out with you but you're bowed to by every woman you meet!

"WHAT DO I MEAN BY EVERY WOMAN, WHEN IT'S ONLY MISS PRETTYMAN?

"That's nothing at all to do with it. How do I know who bows to you when I'm not by? Everybody of course. And if they don't look at you, why you look at them. Oh! I'm sure you do. You do it even when I'm out with you, and of course you do it when I'm away. Now, don't tell me, Caudle--don't deny it. The fact is, it's become such a dreadful habit with you, that you don't know when you do it, and when you don't. But I do.

"Miss Prettyman, indeed! What do you say?

"YOU WON'T LIE STILL AND HEAR ME SCANDALISE THAT EXCELLENT YOUNG WOMAN?

"Oh, of course you'll take her part! Though, to be sure, she may not be so much to blame after all. For how is she to know you're married? You're never seen out of doors with your own wife--never.

Wherever you go, you go alone. Of course people think you're a bachelor. What do you say?

"YOU WELL KNOW YOU'RE NOT?

"That's nothing to do with it--I only ask, What must people think, when I'm never seen with you? Other women go out with their husbands: but, as I've often said, I'm not like any other woman.

What are you sneering at, Mr. Caudle?

"HOW DO I KNOW YOU'RE SNEERING?

"Don't tell me: I know well enough, by the movement of the pillow.

"No; you never take me out--and you know it. No; and it's not my own fault. How can you lie there and say that? Oh, all a poor excuse!

That's what you always say. You're tired of asking me, indeed, because I always start some objection? Of course I can't go out a figure. And when you ask me to go, you know very well that my bonnet isn't as it should be--or that my gown hasn't come home--or that I can't leave the children--or that something keeps me indoors. You know all this well enough before you ask me. And that's your art.

And when I DO go out with you, I'm sure to suffer for it. Yes, you needn't repeat my words. SUFFER FOR IT. But you suppose I have no feelings: oh no, n.o.body has feelings but yourself. Yes; I'd forgot: Miss Prettyman, perhaps--yes, she may have feelings, of course.

"And as I've said, I dare say a pretty dupe people think me. To be sure; a poor forlorn creature I must look in everybody's eyes. But I knew you couldn't be at Mr. Prettyman's house night after night till eleven o'clock--and a great deal you thought of me sitting up for you--I knew you couldn't be there without some cause. And now I've found it out! Oh, I don't mind your swearing, Mr. Caudle! It's I, if I wasn't a woman, who ought to swear. But it's like you men.

Lords of the creation, as you call yourselves! Lords, indeed! And pretty slaves you make of the poor creatures who're tied to you. But I'll be separated, Caudle; I will; and then I'll take care and let all the world know how you've used me. What do you say?

"I MAY SAY MY WORST?

"Ha! don't you tempt any woman in that way--don't, Caudle; for I wouldn't answer for what I said.

"Miss Prettyman, indeed, and--oh yes! now I see! Now the whole light breaks in upon me! Now I know why you wished me to ask her with Mr.

and Mrs. Prettyman to tea! And I, like a poor blind fool, was nearly doing it. But now, as I say, my eyes are open! And you'd have brought her under my own roof--now it's no use your bouncing about in that fashion--you'd have brought her into the very house, where--"

"Here," says Caudle, "I could endure it no longer. So I jumped out of bed, and went and slept somehow with the children."

LECTURE XIX--MRS. CAUDLE THINKS "IT WOULD LOOK WELL TO KEEP THEIR WEDDING-DAY."

"Caudle, love, do you know what next Sunday is?

"NO! YOU DON'T?

"Well, was there ever such a strange man! Can't you guess, darling?

Next Sunday, dear? Think, love, a minute--just think.

"WHAT! AND YOU DON'T KNOW NOW?

"Ha! if I hadn't a better memory than you, I don't know how we should ever get on. Well, then, pet,--shall I tell you what next Sunday is?

Why, then, it's our wedding-day--What are you groaning at, Mr.

Caudle? I don't see anything to groan at. If anybody should groan, I'm sure it isn't you. No: I rather think it's I who ought to groan!

"Oh, dear! That's fourteen years ago. You were a very different man then, Mr. Caudle. What do you say--?

"AND I WAS A VERY DIFFERENT WOMAN?

"Not at all--just the same. Oh, you needn't roll your head about on the pillow in that way: I say, just the same. Well, then, if I'm altered, whose fault is it? Not mine, I'm sure--certainly not.

Don't tell me that I couldn't talk at all then--I could talk just as well then as I can now; only then I hadn't the same cause. It's you who've made me talk. What do you say?

"YOU'RE VERY SORRY FOR IT?

"Caudle, you do nothing but insult me.

"Ha! you were a good-tempered, nice creature fourteen years ago, and would have done anything for me. Yes, yes, if a woman would be always cared for, she should never marry. There's quite an end of the charm when she goes to church! We're all angels while you're courting us; but once married, how soon you pull our wings off! No, Mr. Caudle, I'm not talking nonsense; but the truth is, you like to hear n.o.body talk but yourself. n.o.body ever tells me that I talk nonsense but you. Now, it's no use your turning and turning about in that way, it's not a bit of--what do you say?

"YOU'LL GET UP?

"No you won't, Mr. Caudle; you'll not serve me that trick again; for I've locked the door and hid the key. There's no getting hold of you all the day-time--but here you can't leave me. You needn't groan again, Mr. Caudle.

"Now, Caudle, dear, do let us talk comfortably. After all, love, there's a good many folks who, I daresay, don't get on half so well as we've done. We've both our little tempers, perhaps; but you ARE aggravating; you must own that, Caudle. Well, never mind; we won't talk of it; I won't scold you now. We'll talk of next Sunday, love.

We never have kept our wedding-day, and I think it would be a nice day to have our friends. What do you say?

"THEY'D THINK IT HYPOCRISY?

"No hypocrisy at all. I'm sure I try to be comfortable; and if ever man was happy, you ought to be. No, Caudle, no; it isn't nonsense to keep wedding-days; it isn't a deception on the world; and if it is, how many people do it! I'm sure it's only a proper compliment that a man owes to his wife. Look at the Winkles--don't they give a dinner every year? Well, I know, and if they do fight a little in the course of the twelvemonth, that's nothing to do with it. They keep their wedding-day, and their acquaintance have nothing to do with anything else.

"As I say, Caudle, it's only a proper compliment that a man owes to his wife to keep his wedding-day. It's as much as to say to the whole world--'There! if I had to marry again, my blessed wife's the only woman I'd choose!' Well! I see nothing to groan at, Mr.