e a double line of
undertakers. The tomb is down there at the end of them--costly or not. At
the age of four, on my birthday, I was informed that my mother lay dead
in her bed. I remember to this day my astonishment at her not moving.
"Her heart is broken," my old nurse said. To me she appeared intact. Her
sister took possession of me, and of her papers, and the
wedding-ring--now in the custody of Dettermain and Newson--together with
the portraits of both my parents; and she, poor soul, to sustain me, as I
verily believe--she had a great idea of my never asking unprofitably for
anything in life--bartered the most corroborative of the testificatory
documents, which would now make the establishment of my case a
comparatively light task. Have I never spoken to you of my boyhood? My
maternal uncle was a singing-master and master of elocution. I am
indebted to him for the cultivation of my voice. He taught me an
effective delivery of my sentences. The English of a book of his called
The Speaker is still to my mind a model of elegance. Remittances of money
came to him from an unknown quarter; and, with a break or two, have come
ever since up to this period. My old nurse-heaven bless her--resumed the
occupation of washing. I have stood by her tub, Richie, blowing bubbles
and listening to her prophecies of my exalted fortune for hours. On my
honour, I doubt, I seriously doubt, if I have ever been happier. I depend
just now--I have to avow it to you--slightly upon stimulants . . . of a
perfectly innocuous character. Mrs. Waddy will allow me a pint of
champagne. The truth is, Richie--you see these two or three poor
pensioners of mine, honi soit qui mal y pense--my mother has had hard
names thrown at her. The stones of these streets cry out to me to have
her vindicated. I am not tired; but I want my wine.'

He repeated several times before he reached his housedoor, that he wanted
his wine, in a manner to be almost alarming. His unwonted effort of
memory, the singular pictures of him which it had flashed before me, and
a sort of impatient compassion, made me forget my wrath. I saw him take
his restorative at one draught. He lay down on a sofa, and his valet drew
his boots off and threw a cloak over him. Lying there, he wished me gaily
good-night. Mrs. Waddy told me that he had adopted this system of
sleeping for the last month. 'Bless you, as many people call on him at
night now as in the day,' she said; and I was induced to suppose