Wilhelmina in London
By
Barry Pain
Author of “Eliza,” “Eliza Getting On,”
“Exit Eliza,” etc.
NEW EDITION
London
John Long, Limited
Norris Street, Haymarket
1912
Contents
I. STRANDED
II. MR. NATHAN GOULD
III. THE MAN OF MEANS
V. THE SPIRITS OF HANFORD GARDENS
VI. UNREWARDED
VII. A QUEER COMMISSION
VIII. THE PEGASUS CAR
Wilhelmina in London
I
STRANDED
It is quite possible to love a person whom one doesnot respect, of whom one even disapproves. I lovedmy father, but I certainly did not respect him. Hedid not even respect himself.
When he married my mother, much against thewishes of his family, my grandfather bought him anannuity of two hundred a year, and desired to havenothing more to do with him. My mother diedwhen I was quite a little girl, but I have a vividrecollection that she was just about as helpless asmy father. In times of financial crisis—and, thanksto my father, these were very frequent—the twowould sit staring at one another over the fire, andsay that this was the beginning of the end, or exhorteach other to hope and courage, but never, by anychance, take any practical way of dealing with thesituation. On these gloomy occasions my fathergenerally made a will. I do not think he, at anytime, had anything to leave us worth mentioning,but the sonorous phrases and the feeling that he wasdoing something business-like seemed to give him amelancholy satisfaction. I have the last will thathe made before me now. It begins: “I, BernardCastel, being of sound mind and understanding, andat peace with God and man, do hereby give andbequeath all my real and personal estate, ofwhatsoever kind, to my only beloved daughter,Wilhelmina.” There followed directions as to theways of disposing of this estate, supposing it shouldexceed twenty-five thousand pounds at the time ofhis death, and further directions if it should exceedfifty thousand. At that time we were as usualskating on the very edge of bankruptcy. I remembermy father returned in triumph from dealing with thelocal tradesman who was his principal creditor. “Ihave done it, Wilhelmina,” he said. “And I doubtif any other man in the world could have done it.Another coat of paint and there would have been acollision.”
I suppose he really loved me. He often told me,especially when a financial crisis was at its worst,that I was all he had in the world. But he neverinsured his life, and never made any provision for meafter his death. After all, I believe that a father anda