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ON HIS WAY THROUGH THE WORLD 549
CHAPTER XXXVI
IN WHICH THE DRAWING-ROOMS ARE NOT FURNISHED
AFTER ALL
W E
cannot expect to be loved by a relative whom we have
knocked into an illuminated pond, and whose coat-tails,
pantaloons, nether limbs, and best feelings we have
lacerated with ill treatment and broken glass. A man whom you
have so treated behind his back will not be sparing of his punishment
behind yours. Of course all the Twysdens, male and female,
and Woolcomb, the dusky husband of Philip's former love, hated
and feared, and maligned him ; and were in the habit of speaking
of him as a truculent and reckless savage and monster, coarse and
brutal in his language and behaviour, ragged, dirty, and reckless in
his personal appearance ; reeking with smoke, perpetually reeling in
drink, indulging in oaths, actions, laughter which rendered him intolerable
in civilised society. The Twysdens, during Philip's absence
abroad, had been very respectful and assiduous in courting the new
head of the Ringwood family. They had flattered Sir John, and
paid court to my lady. They had been welcomed at Sir John's
houses in town and country. They had adopted his politics in a
great measure, as they had adopted the politics of the deceased peer.
They had never lost an opportunity of abusing poor Philip and of
ingratiating themselves. They had never refused any invitation
from Sir John in town or country, and had ended by utterly boring
him and Lady Ringwood and the Ringwood family in general.
Lady Ringwood learned somewhere how pitilessly Mrs. Woolcomb
had jilted her cousin when a richer suitor appeared in the person
of the West Indian. Then news came how Philip had administered
a beating to Woolcomb, to young Twysden, to a dozen who set on
him. The early prejudices began to pass away. A friend or two
of Philip's told Ringwood how he was mistaken in the young man,
and painted a portrait of him in colours much more favourable than
those which his kinsfolk employed. Indeed, dear relations, if the
public wants to know our little faults and errors, I think I know
who will not grudge the requisite information. Dear Aunt Candour,
are you not still alive, and don't you know what we had for dinner