Chapter XV: A Family Catastrophe

I am bound to say that Flossie's brothers and sisters (and Sarah) received the news of her approaching departure from her father's roof with unmixed feelings. Not a drop of sorrow was there to mar the cup of joy which the occasion presented to every one. Not a regret at the blank her going would cause leavened the general satisfaction at her happiness. And Flossie herself was the least sorrowful, the least regretful, and the most satisfied of all.

Like May, she was marrying well--that is to say, she was marrying money. But, unlike May's husband, who was old, her future lord and master was young--only five years older than herself. It is true he was not much to look at; but then, as Mrs. Stubbs remarked to her husband, that was Flossie's business. It was equally true that he was reputed to be a young scamp, with an atrocious temper; but then, as Tom said, that was Flossie's look-out, and decidedly Flossie was not without little failings of that kind--though why, if one bad-tempered person decides upon marrying another bad-tempered person, it is generally considered by the world to be all right, because the one is as bad to get on with as the other, it would be hard to say; perhaps it is on the principle of two negatives making an affirmative, or in the belief that two wrongs will make eventually a right; I cannot say. But, odd as it is, that is the very general opinion.

The engagement was an unusually short one. Indeed, the bride had barely time to get her things ready by the day, and a great part of her trousseau was not able to be ready before her return from her honeymoon. But still they never seemed to think of putting off the wedding for a single day, although it was fixed to take place just six weeks from the day of the ball, when the engagement had begun.

It seemed to Sarah, well used as she had become to seeing liberal expenditure, that at this time the entire family seemed to be spending money like water! May's wedding had been a very grand one, but Flossie's outshone it in every way--in the number of the bridesmaids, in the number of the guests, in the number of the carriages, and the servants, and the flowers, in the splendour of the presents and the dresses of the trousseau, nay, in the very length of the bride's train.

The presents were gorgeous! Mr. Stubbs gave his daughter a gold-mounted dressing-case and a cheque for a thousand pounds; Mrs. Stubbs gave a diamond star, and May a necklace of such magnificence that even Flossie was astounded when she saw it.

So Flossie became Mrs. Jones, and passed away from her old home; and when it was all over, and the tokens of the great feast and merry-making had been cleared away, the household for a few days settled down into comparative quietude.

Only for a few days, however. With the exception of Sarah, who was too deeply engrossed in her work to care much for passing pleasures, the entire family seemed to have caught a fever of restlessness and love of excitement. After ten days the bride and bridegroom returned, and there were great parties to welcome them. Every day there seemed some reason why they should launch out a little further, and yet a little further, and instead of the family being less expensive now that two daughters were married, the general expenditure was far more lavish than it had ever been before. They had a second man-servant and another maid, and then they found that it was impossible to get on any longer without a second "broom" horse for night-work.

They did, indeed, begin to talk about leaving Jesamond Road, and going into a larger house. The boys--Tom was just seventeen, and Johnnie only fifteen--wanted a billiard-room, and Minnie wanted a boudoir, and Mr. Stubbs wanted a larger study, and Mrs. Stubbs wanted a double hall. That change, however, was never made, although Mrs. Stubbs and Minnie had seen and set their hearts upon a mansion in Earl's Court at a modest rental of five hundred a year, which they thought quite a reasonable rent--for one awful night the senior clerk came tearing up to the door in a cab, with the horse all in a lather and his own face like chalk, and asked for the master.

The master and mistress were just going out to a great dinner-party at the house of Mrs. Giath, their eldest daughter, in Palace Gardens, but Mr. Stubbs came down and saw him in the study. They were shut up there together for some time, until Mrs. Stubbs grew impatient, and knocked several times at the door, with a reminder that they would be very late, and that May would not like to be kept waiting. And at last Mr. Stubbs opened the door and came out.

"Get my coat, James," he said to the servant; then, as he buttoned it, added, "Mr. Senior will have a glass of wine and a biscuit before he goes. Good-night, Senior. See you in the morning."

"Lor, Pa!" exclaimed Mrs. Stubbs, as they rolled away from the door, "I thought something was the matter."

"No, my dear, only some important business Senior thought I ought to know about," he answered; and Mr. Stubbs that evening was the very light and life of his daughter's party.

But in the morning the crash came! Not that he was there to see it, though; for just as they reached home again, and he passed into his own house, Mr. Stubbs reeled and fell to the ground in all the hideousness of a severe paralytic seizure.

Nor did he ever, even partially, recover his senses; before the day was done he had gone out of the sea of trouble which overwhelmed him, to answer for his doings before a high and just tribunal, which, let us hope, would give him a more merciful judgment than he would have found in this world.

Mrs. Stubbs was broken-hearted and inconsolable. "If he had only been spared for a bit," she sobbed to her married daughters, who came to her in her trouble; "but to be taken sudden like that! oh, it is 'ard--it is 'ard."

"Poor Pa," murmured May; "he was so active, he couldn't have borne to be ill and helpless, as he would have been if he'd lived. I wouldn't fret so, if I were you, Ma, dear, I really wouldn't."

"There's nothing dishonourable," Mrs. Stubbs sobbed; "all's gone, but your poor Pa's good name's 'ere still. I do thank 'eaven for that--yes, I do."

"H'm! If Pa'd been half sharp," Flossie remarked, "he'd have taken care there was something left."

"He's left his good name and his good deeds behind him--that's better than mere money," said Sarah softly, holding her aunt's hand very tightly in both of hers.

"Oh, well, as to that, Sarah," said Flossie, "of course it isn't likely _you'll_ blame Pa for being so lavish as he was; dressed just the same as us, and expensive violin lessons twice a week, and all that."

Mrs. Stubbs and May both cried out upon Flossie for her words.

"Cruel, cruel!" Mrs. Stubbs exclaimed; "when you've had every lux'ry you could wish, to blame your poor Pa for his charity before he's laid in his grave. I'm ashamed of you, Flossie, I am!" And then she hid her face on Sarah's slim young shoulder, and broke into bitter sobs and tears.