the bad points of my character. Judge yourself what was likely to be the result of educating to such views of life a high-spirited country-bred boy with ready-developed tendencies to mischief; of encouraging him to such knowledge of the world as I have hinted at; of applauding him when, with his young, crimson, earnest face, he bent over the gaming-table and tried not to pale when his money was swept away from him, it being a gentleman's duty not to flinch at such dispensations of Fortune, or when he never missed the wine in its circuit of the table, and, staggering and noisy, was, as a consequence, led away at last, to bed by the servants.
"You may think that I have no pleasure in this relation, Martin, but it is necessary that you should be informed in some detail of the manner in which the interval of our separation was passed.
"My uncle's household was a curious one—ill-regulated as his own habits. To the usual mismanagement of a bachelor's house was superadded complication arising from the fact of his long residence abroad. On his first arrival in England he had been accompanied by several native servants. These, however, he had one by one sent back to India, with one exception. He still retained in his service, fulfilling the duties of valet, a half-caste, who had been many years with him. This man, born at Pondicherry—his father a Frenchman—was very useful to my uncle—knew all his ways, accompanied him wherever he went, assisted him to dress, wrote letters for him, even cooked for him appetising Indian dishes,—when his health failed him, and no other efforts could satisfy his palate. So, when the other servants were dismissed, Dominique Pichot was still retained. A docile, faithful, attached creature, as my uncle was of opinion until the last; a subtle, treacherous scoundrel, as I have good reason to know.
"The housekeeper was an Englishwoman, a Mrs. Corder. She, also, had been many years in my uncle's service—the widow, I fancy, of a soldier of his regiment who had been for some time his servant in India, and had died there. But of this I am not certain. She was a woman of low origin, who had compensated for her want of education by a certain quickness and cunning. She had no sort of scruple, was very grasping and ambitious, and by some means had acquired considerable influence over my uncle. She was very vain, though she must have been nearly fifty when I first saw her; but by artificial means she contrived to look considerably younger. She was very fond of dress, was selfish, avaricious, mean, wily, altogether despicable, but that her manner had about it something I then thought winning, and that her power in the household was almost absolute. She affected to welcome me cordially to my uncle's house, urged the frequent repetition of my visits, while yet I believe she entertained great fears lest my uncle's friendship for me should extend to his constituting me the sole heir to his fortune. It was soon evident to me that a certain understanding existed between this Mrs. Corder and Pichot, but the nature or object of this was not at the time intelligible to me.
"It is not to be supposed that, boy as I was, my uncle cared for me to be continually with him during my residence in Harley Street. He had frequent engagements, was often at the club, or in the society of his friends—for the most part retired officers whom he had known in India. I It was some relief from the dulness of that large empty house to seek the company of Pichot or of the housekeeper. They were only too happy to be of use to me. Let it be understood that I was likely to unlearn none of my uncle's lessons from these associates. They were utterly depraved. I blush now to think of the gross adulations they lavished upon me, the coarse compliments which then gave me pleasure, and won for these creatures my regard. They were only too happy to aid me in my search after knowledge of the world. Sin could hardly have had more accomplished coadjutors. They vied with each other in flattering and pampering me, in seeking to serve me in any way, no matter how shameful.
"One object of their servility at length became known to me. It appeared that they had been long secretly married; that during one of my uncle's absences from London a child had been born of their union—a boy, who was already some years old, and whom they had christened Alexis, Pichot had always accompanied my uncle on his visits to the Grange, but it was not until his last visit that Mrs. Corder had also gone with him. His health was then very feeble, and he required a constant nurse, and during his last illness, and a short time previous to his death at the Grange, the housekeeper—then known as Madame Pichot—was sent for to attend to her master.
"I undertook, by their desire, to reveal to my uncle the fact of this marriage, to intercede for them, and to obtain his forgiveness. The task was not an easy one. My uncle, himself a bachelor, had been prone to make matrimony ever a special subject for raillery and satire (perhaps after the habit of the unmarried). When informed of the fact he was furious, vowed he would never see either of them again, that they should both quit the house instantly, and abused me roundly for undertaking to advocate their cause. Calmly these people appeared to bow to his orders; they prepared to depart, with yet I believe a full intention to remain. I was afraid I had injured their position by my unsuccessful eloquence. They only laughed Probably they knew my uncle better than I did. The housekeeper availed herself of an opportunity to see him. They had a long and violent conversation. It seemed to me that a sort of compact had been concluded between them.
"Madame Pichot informed me that, with her husband, she was to continue in my uncle's service. More than this, that the child was to be permitted to reside in my uncle's house, provided it never made its presence known, either to his eyes or his ears. Further, she informed me that the marriage was at an earlier date than I had imagined, and that there existed a child some years older than Alexis, a girl—very nearly of my own age—whose name was Regine Stephanie Pichot, and that she, also, would shortly appear at the house in Harley Street."
