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ON HIS WAY THROUGH THE WORLD 46l
Philip ? Oh, never—never! Not if she lived to be a hundred,
when Philip would in consequence be in his hundred and ninth or
tenth year, would this young Joan have any but her present Darby.
Aunt Mac, though she may not have been the most accomplished or
highly-bred of ladies, was a warm-hearted and affectionate Aunt
Mac. She caught in a mild form the fever from these young people.
She had not much to leave, and Mac's relations would want all he
could spare when he was gone. But Charlotte should have her
garnets, and her teapot, and her India shawl—that she should.*
And with many blessings this enthusiastic old lady took leave of
her future nephew-in-law when he returned to Paris and duty.
Crack your whip, and scream your hi 1 and be off quick, postillion
and diligence ! I am glad we have taken Mr. Firmin out of that
dangerous, lazy, love-making place. Nothing is to me so sweet
as sentimental writing. I could have written hundreds of pages
describing Philip and Charlotte, Charlotte and Philip. But a stern
sense of duty intervenes. My modest Muse puts a finger on her
lip, and says, " Hush about that business !" Ah, my worthy
friends, you little know what soft-hearted people those cynics are !
If you could have come on Diogenes by surprise, I daresay you
might have found him reading sentimental novels and whimpering
in his tub. Philip shall leave his sweetheart and go back to his
business, and we will not have one word about tears, promises,
raptures, parting. Never mind about these sentimentalities, but
please rather to depict to yourself our young fellow so poor that
when the coach stops for dinner at Orleans he can only afford to
purchase a penny loaf and a sausage for his own hungry cheek.
When he reached the " Hotel Poussin " with his meagre carpet-bag,
they served him a supper which he ate to the admiration of all
beholders in the little coffee-room. He was in great spirits and
gaiety. He did not care to make any secret of his poverty, and
how he had been unable to afford to pay for dinner. Most of the
guests at " Hotel Poussin " knew what it was to be poor. Often
and often they had dined on credit when they put back their napkins
into their respective pigeon-holes. But my landlord knew his
guests. They were poor men—honest men. They paid him in the
end, and each could help his neighbour in a strait.
After Mr. Firmin's return to Paris, he did not care for a while
to go to the Elysian Fields. They were not Elysian for him,
except in Miss Charlotte's company. He resumed his newspaper
* I am sorry to say that in later days, after Mrs. Major MaoWhirter'a
decease, it was found that she had promised these treasures in writing to
several members of her husband's family, and that much heart-burning arose
in consequence. But our story has nothing to do with these painful disputes.