By five o'clock the little party were seated at the cheerful
dinner-table, glistening with the old family plate and that kind of
fare, at once substantial and luxurious, which befitted the occasion.
Old Mrs. Aubrey, in her simple white turban and black velvet dress,
presided with a kind of dignified cheerfulness which was delightful to
see. Kate had contrived to make herself look more lovely even than
usual, wearing a dress of dark blue satin, tastefully trimmed with
blonde, and which exquisitely comported with her beautiful complexion.
Oh that Delamere had been sitting opposite to, or beside her! The more
matured proportions of her blooming sister-in-law appeared to infinite
advantage in a rich green velvet dress, while a superb diamond glistened
with subdued lustre in her beautiful bosom. She wore no ornaments in her
dark hair, which was, as indeed might be said of Kate, "when unadorned,
adorned the most." The gray-headed old butler, (as brisk as his choicest
champagne,) and the two steady-looking old family servants, going about
their business with quiet celerity--the delicious air of antique
elegance around them--the sense of profound seclusion--of remoteness
from the exciting hubbub of the world--in every respect this was a
Christmas dinner after one's own heart! Oh the merry and dear old
Yatton! And as if there were not loveliness enough already in the room,
behold the door suddenly pushed open, as soon as the dessert is arrayed
on the table, and run up to his gay and laughing mother, her little son,
his ample snowy collar resting gracefully on his crimson velvet dress.
'Tis her hope and pride--her first-born--the little squire; but where is
his sister?--where is Agnes? 'Tis even as Charles says--she fell asleep
in the very act of being dressed, and they were obliged to put her to
bed; so Charles is alone in his glory. You may well fold your delicate
white arm around him, mamma!--
His little gold cup is nearly filled to join in the first toast: are you
all--dear little circle!--are you all ready? The worthy doctor has
poured old Mrs. Aubrey's, and young Mrs. Aubrey's, and Kate's glass full
up to the brim:--"_Our next Christmas!_" quoth he, cheerily elevating
his glass.
Yes, your next Christmas! The vigilant eye of Dr. Tatham alone perceived
a faint change of color in Mr. Aubrey's cheek as the words were uttered;
and his eye wandered for an instant, as if tracing across the room the
image of old blind Bess; but 'twas gone in a moment; Aubrey was soon in
much higher spirits than usual. Well he might be. How could man be
placed in happier circumstances than he was? As soon as the three ladies
had withdrawn, together with little Aubrey, the doctor and Mr. Aubrey
drew their chairs before the fire, and enjoyed a long hour's pleasant
conversation, on matters domestic and political. As to the latter, the
doctor and the squire were stout Tories; and a speech which Aubrey had
lately delivered in the House, on the Catholic claims, had raised him to
a pitch of eminence in the doctor's estimation, where Aubrey had very
few men in the country to keep him company. The doctor here got on very
fast indeed; and was just assuring the squire that he saw dark days in
store for Old England from the machinations of the Papists; and that,
for his part, he should rejoice to "seal his testimony with his blood,"
and would go to the stake not only without flinching, but
rejoicing--(all which I verily believe _he_ verily believed he would
have done) and coveting the crown of martyrdom--when Aubrey caught the
sound of his sister playing on the organ, a noble instrument, which a
year or two before, at her urgent request, he had purchased and placed
in the drawing-room, whither he and the doctor at once repaired. 'Twas a
spacious and lofty room, well calculated for the splendid instrument
which occupied the large recess fronting the door. Miss Aubrey was
playing Handel, and with an exquisite perception of his matchless power
and beauty. Hark! did you ever hear the grand yet simple recitative she
is now commencing?
"_In the days of Herod the king, behold, there came wise men from
the East to Jerusalem,_
"_Saying--Where is he that is born King of the Jews? for we have
seen his star in the East, and are come to worship him._"
The doctor officiated as chaplain that evening. The room was almost
filled with servants, many of whose looks very plainly showed the merry
doings which must have been going on in the servants' hall. Some could
scarce keep their eyes open; one or two sat winking at each other! and
others were fairly asleep, and snoring! Under the circumstances,
therefore, the doctor, with much judgment, read very short prayers, and
immediately afterwards took his departure for his snug little vicarage.
The moon shone brightly, the air was clear and bracing, and he felt as
blithe as a bird as he walked homeward!
The next morning, which proved as fine as the preceding, Mr. Aubrey was
detained in-doors with his letters, and one or two other little matters
of business in his library, till luncheon time. "What say you, Kate, to
a ride round the country?" said he, on taking his seat. Kate was
delighted; and forthwith the horses were ordered to be got ready as soon
as possible.
"You must not mind a little rough riding, Kate, by the way," said
Aubrey; "for we shall have to get over some ugly places!--I'm going to
meet Waters at the end of the avenue, about that old sycamore--we must
have it down at last."
"Oh no, Charles, no; I thought we had settled that last year!" replied
Kate, earnestly.
"Pho! if it had not been for you, Kate, it would have been down two
years ago at least. Its hour is come at last; 'tis indeed, so no
pouting! It is injuring the other trees; and, besides, it spoils the
prospect from the left wing of the house."
"'Tis only Waters that puts all these things into your head, Charles,
and I shall let him know _my_ opinion on the subject when I see him!
Mamma, haven't _you_ a word to say for the old"----
But Mr. Aubrey, not deeming it discreet to await the new force which was
being brought against him, started off to inspect a newly purchased
horse, just brought to the stables.
Kate, who really became everything, looked charming in her blue
riding-habit and hat, sitting on her horse with infinite ease and grace;
in fact, a capital horsewoman. The exercise soon brought a rich bloom
upon her cheek; and as she cantered along the road by the side of her
brother, no one could have met them without being almost startled at her
beauty. Just as they had dropped into an easy walk--
"Charles," said she, observing two horsemen approaching them, "who can
these be? Heavens! did you ever see such figures? And how they ride!"
"Why, certainly," replied her brother, smiling, "they look a brace of
arrant Cockneys! Ah, ha!--what can they be doing in _these_ parts?"
"Dear me, what puppies!" exclaimed Miss Aubrey, lowering her voice as
they neared the persons she spoke of.
"They _are_ certainly a most extraordinary couple! Who _can_ they be?"
said Mr. Aubrey, a smile forcing itself into his features. One of the
gentlemen thus referred to, was dressed in a light blue surtout, with
the tip of a white pocket-handkerchief seen peeping out of a pocket in
the front of it. His hat, with scarce any brim to it, was stuck aslant
on the top of a bushy head of queer-colored hair. His shirt-collar was
turned down completely over his stock, displaying a great quantity of
dirt-colored hair under his chin; while a pair of mustaches, of the same
color, were sprouting upon his upper lip, and a perpendicular tuft
depended from his under lip. A quizzing-glass was stuck in his right
eye, and in his hand he carried a whip with a shining silver head. The
other was almost equally distinguished by the elegance of his
appearance. He had a glossy hat, a purple-colored velvet waistcoat, two
pins connected by little chains in his stock, a bottle-green surtout,
sky-blue trousers, and a most splendid riding-whip. In short, who should
these be but our old friends, Messrs. Titmouse and Snap? Whoever they
might be--and whatever their other accomplishments, it was plain that
they were perfect novices on horseback; and their horses had every
appearance of having been much fretted and worried by their riders. To
the surprise of Mr. Aubrey and his sister, these two personages
attempted to rein in as they neared, and evidently intended to speak to
them.
"Pray--a--sir, will you, sir, tell us," commenced Titmouse, with a
desperate attempt to appear at his ease, as he tried to make his horse
stand still for a moment--"isn't there a place called--called"--here his
horse, whose sides were constantly being galled by the spurs of its
unconscious rider, began to back a little; then to go on one side, and,
in Titmouse's fright, his glass dropped from his eye, and he seized hold
of the pommel. Nevertheless, to show the lady how completely he was at
his ease all the while, he levelled a great many oaths and curses at the
unfortunate eyes and soul of his wayward brute; who, however, not in the
least moved by them, but infinitely disliking the spurs of its rider and
the twisting round of its mouth by the reins, seemed more and more
inclined for mischief, and backed close up to the edge of the ditch.
"I'm afraid, sir," said Mr. Aubrey, kindly and very earnestly, "you are
not much accustomed to riding. Will you permit _me_"----
"Oh, yes--ye--ye--s, sir, I _am_ though,--uncommon--whee-o-uy!
whuoy!"--(then a fresh volley of oaths.) "Oh, dear, 'pon my soul--ho! my
eyes!--what--what _is_ he going to do! Snap! Snap!"--'T was, however,
quite in vain to call on _that_ gentleman for assistance; for he had
grown as pale as death, on finding that his own brute seemed strongly
disposed to follow the infernal example (or rather, as it were, the
_converse_ of it) of the other, and was particularly inclined to rear up
on its hind-legs. The very first motion of that sort brought Snap's
heart (not large enough, perhaps, to choke him) into his mouth.
Titmouse's beast, in the mean while, suddenly wheeled round; and
throwing its hind feet into the air, sent its terrified rider flying
head over heels into the very middle of the hedge, from which he dropped
into the soft wet ditch on the road-side. Both Mr. Aubrey and his groom
immediately dismounted, and secured the horse, who, having got rid of
its ridiculous rider, stood perfectly quiet. Titmouse proved to be more
frightened than hurt. His hat was crushed flat on his head, and half the
left side of his face covered with mud--as, indeed, were his clothes all
the way down. The groom (almost splitting with laughter) helped him on
his horse again; and as Mr. and Miss Aubrey were setting off--"I think,
sir," said the former, politely, "you were inquiring for some place?"
"Yes, sir," quoth Snap. "Isn't there a place called Ya--Yat--Yat--(be
quiet, you brute!)--Yatton about here?"
"Yes, sir--straight on," replied Mr. Aubrey. Miss Aubrey hastily threw
her veil over her face, to conceal her laughter, urging on her horse;
and she and her brother were soon out of sight of the strangers.
"I say, Snap," quoth Titmouse, when he had in a measure cleansed
himself, and they had both got a little composed, "see that lovely gal?"
"Fine gal--devilish fine!" replied Snap.
"I'm blessed if I don't think--'pon my life, I believe we've met
before!"
"Didn't seem to know you though!"---- quoth Snap, somewhat dryly.
"Ah! you don't know--How uncommon infernal unfortunate to happen just at
the moment when"---- Titmouse became silent; for all of a sudden he
recollected when and where, and under what circumstances he had seen
Miss Aubrey before, and which his vanity would not allow of his telling
Snap. The fact was, that she had once accompanied her sister-in-law to
Messrs. Tag-rag and Company's, to purchase some small matter of mercery.
Titmouse had served them; and his absurdity of manner and personal
appearance had provoked a smile, which Titmouse a little misconstrued;
for when, a Sunday or two afterwards, he met her in the Park, the little
fool actually had the presumption to nod to her--she having not the
slightest notion who the little wretch might be--and of course not
having, on the present occasion, the least recollection of him. The
reader will recollect that this incident made a deep impression on the
mind of Mr. Titmouse.
The coincidence was really not a little singular--but to return to Mr.
Aubrey and his sister. After riding a mile or two farther up the road,
they leaped over a very low mound or fence, which formed the extreme
boundary of that part of the estate, and having passed through a couple
of fields, they entered the eastern extremity of that fine avenue of
elms, at the higher end of which stood Kate's favorite tree, and also
Waters and his under-bailiff--who looked to her like a couple of
executioners, only awaiting the fiat of her brother. The sun shone
brightly upon the doomed sycamore--"the axe was laid at its root." As
they rode up the avenue, Kate begged very hard for mercy; but for once
her brother seemed obdurate--the tree, he said, _must_ come down--'t was
all nonsense to think of leaving it standing any longer!--
"Remember, Charles," said she, passionately, as they drew up, "how we've
all of us romped and sported under it! Poor papa also"----
"See, Kate, how rotten it is," said her brother; and riding close to it,
with his whip he snapped off two or three of its feeble silvery-gray
branches--"it's high time for it to come down."
"It fills the grass all round with little branches, sir, whenever
there's the least breath of wind," said Waters.
"It won't hardly hold a crow's weight on the topmost branches, sir,"
added Dickons, the under-bailiff, very modestly.
"Had it any leaves last summer?" inquired Mr. Aubrey.
"I don't think, sir," replied Waters, "it had a hundred all over it!"
"Really, Kate," said her brother, "'t is such a melancholy, unsightly
object, when seen from any part of the Hall"--turning round on his horse
to look at the rear of the Hall, which was at about two hundred yards'
distance. "It looks such an old withered thing among the fresh green
trees around it--'t is quite a painful contrast." Kate had gently urged
on her horse while her brother was speaking, till she was close beside
him. "Charles," said she, in a low whisper, "does not it remind you a
little of poor old mamma, with her gray hairs, among her children and
grandchildren? _She_ is not out of place among us--is she?" Her eyes
filled with tears. So did her brother's.
"Dearest Kate," said he, with emotion, affectionately grasping her
little hand, "you have triumphed! The old tree shall never be cut down
in my time! Waters, let the tree stand; and if anything _is_ to be done
to it--let the greatest possible _care_ be taken of it." Miss Aubrey
turned her head aside to conceal her emotion. Had they been alone, she
would have flung her arms round her brother's neck.
"If I were to speak my mind, sir," said the compliant Waters, seeing the
turn things were taking, "I should say, with our young lady, the old
tree's quite a kind of ornament in this here situation, and (as one
might say) it sets off the rest." [It was he who had been worrying Mr.
Aubrey for these last three years to have it cut down!]
"Well," replied Mr. Aubrey, "however that may be, let me hear no more of
cutting it down--Ah! what does old Jolter want here?" said he, observing
an old tenant of that name, almost bent double with age, hobbling
towards them. He was wrapped up in a coarse thick blue coat; his hair
was long and white; his eyes dim and glassy with age.
"I don't know, sir--I'll go and see," said Waters.
"What's the matter, Jolter?" he inquired, stepping forward to meet him.
"Nothing much, sir," replied the old man, feebly, and panting, taking
off his hat, and bowing very low towards Mr. and Miss Aubrey.
"Put your hat on, my old friend," said Mr. Aubrey, kindly.
"I only come to bring you this bit of paper, sir, if you please," said
the old man, addressing Waters. "You said, a while ago, as how I was
always to bring you papers that were left with me; and this"--taking one
out of his pocket--"was left with me only about an hour ago. It's
seemingly a lawyer's paper, and was left by an uncommon gay young chap.
He asked me my name, and then he looked at the paper, and read it all
over to me, but I couldn't make anything of it."
"What is it?" inquired Mr. Aubrey, as Waters cast his eye over a sheet
of paper, partly printed and partly written.
"Why, it seems the old story, sir--that slip of waste land, sir. Mr.
Tomkins is at it again, sir."
"Well, if he chooses to spend his money in that way, I can't help it,"
said Mr. Aubrey, with a smile. "Let me look at the paper." He did so.
"Yes, it seems the same kind of thing as before. Well," handing it back,
"send it to Mr. Parkinson, and tell him to look to it; and, at all
events, take care that poor old Jolter comes to no trouble by the
business. How's the old wife, Jacob?"
"She's dreadful bad with rheumatis, sir; but the stuff that Madam sends
her does her a woundy deal of good, sir, in her inside."
"Well, we must try if we can't send you some more; and, harkee, if the
goodwife doesn't get better soon, send us up word to the Hall, and we'll
have the doctor call on her. Now, Kate, let us away homeward." And they
were soon out of sight.
I do not intend to deal so unceremoniously or summarily as Mr. Aubrey
did, with the document which had been brought to his notice by Jolter,
then handed over to Waters, and by him, according to orders, transmitted
the next day to Mr. Parkinson, Mr. Aubrey's attorney. It was what is
called a "DECLARATION IN EJECTMENT;" touching which, in order to throw a
ray or two of light upon a document which will make no small figure in
this history, I shall try to give the reader a little information on the
point; and hope that a little attention to what now follows, will be
repaid in due time. Here beginneth a little lecture on law.
If _Jones_ claim a _debt_, or _goods_, or _damages_, from _Smith_, one
should think that, if he went to law, the action would be entitled
"Jones _versus_ Smith;" and so it is. But behold, if it be LAND which is
claimed by Jones from Smith, the style and name of the cause stand
thus:--"DOE, on the demise of Jones, _versus_ ROE." Instead, therefore,
of Jones and Smith fighting out the matter in their own proper names,
they set up a couple of puppets, (called "John Doe" and "Richard Roe,")
who fall upon one another in a very quaint fashion, after the manner of
Punch and Judy. John Doe pretends to be the real plaintiff, and Richard
Roe the real defendant. John Doe says that the land which Richard Roe
has, is his, (the said John Doe's,) because _Jones_ (the real plaintiff)
gave him a lease of it; and _Jones_ is then called "the lessor of the
plaintiff." John Doe further says that one Richard Roe, (who calls
himself by the very significant and expressive name of a "_Casual
Ejector_,") came and turned him out, and so John Doe brings his action
against Richard Roe. 'Tis a fact, that whenever land is sought to be
recovered in England, this anomalous and farcical proceeding must be
adopted.[15] It is the duty of the _real_ plaintiff (Jones) to serve on
the _real_ defendant (Smith) a copy of the queer document which I shall
proceed to lay before the reader; and also to append to it an
affectionate note, intimating the serious consequences which will ensue
upon inattention or contumacy. The "Declaration," then, which had been
served upon old Jolter, was in the words, letters, and figures
following--that is to say:--
"IN THE KING'S BENCH.
"Michaelmas Term, the---- of King----.
"YORKSHIRE, to-wit--Richard Roe was attached to answer John Doe of
a plea wherefore the said Richard Roe, with force and arms, &c.,
entered into two messuages, two dwelling-houses, two cottages, two
stables, two out-houses, two yards, two gardens, two orchards,
twenty acres of land covered with water, twenty acres of arable
land, twenty acres of pasture land, and twenty acres of other land,
with the appurtenances, situated in _Yatton_, in the county of
York, which TITTLEBAT TITMOUSE, Esquire, had demised to the said
John Doe for a term which is not yet expired, and ejected him from
his said farm, and other wrongs to the said John Doe there did, to
the great damage of the said John Doe, and against the peace of our
Lord the King, &c.; and Thereupon the said John Doe, by OILY
GAMMON, his attorney, complains,--
"That whereas the said TITTLEBAT TITMOUSE, on the --th day of
August, in the year of our Lord 18--, at Yatton aforesaid, in the
county aforesaid, had demised the same tenements, with the
appurtenances, to the said John Doe, to have and to hold the same
to the said John Doe and his assigns thenceforth, for and during,
and unto the full end and term of twenty years thence next ensuing,
and fully to be completed and ended: By virtue of which said
demise, the said John Doe entered into the said tenements, with the
appurtenances, and became and was thereof possessed for the said
term, so to him thereof granted as aforesaid. And the said John Doe
being so thereof possessed, the said Richard Roe afterwards,
to-wit, on the day and year aforesaid, at the parish aforesaid, in
the county aforesaid, with force and arms, that is to say with
swords, staves, and knives, &c., entered into the said tenements,
with the appurtenances, which the said TITTLEBAT TITMOUSE had
demised to the said John Doe in manner and for the term aforesaid,
which is not yet expired, and ejected the said John Doe out of his
said farm; and other wrongs to the said John Doe then and there
did, to the great damage of the said John Doe, and against the
peace of our said Lord the now King. Wherefore the said John Doe
saith that he is injured, and hath sustained damage to the value of
£50, and therefore he brings his suit, &c.
"SQUEAL, for the Plaintiff. { Pledges of } John Den.
GROWL, for the Defendant. { Prosecution. } Richard Fenn.
"MR. JACOB JOLTER,
"I am informed that you are in possession of, or claim title to,
the premises in this Declaration of Ejectment mentioned, or to some
part thereof: And I, being sued in this action as a _casual
ejector_ only, and having no claim or title to the same, do advise
you to appear, next Hilary term, in His Majesty's Court of King's
Bench at Westminster, by some attorney of that Court; and then and
there, by a rule to be made of the same Court, to cause yourself to
be made defendant in my stead; otherwise, I shall suffer judgment
to be entered against me by default, and you will be turned out of
possession.
"Your loving friend,
RICHARD ROE.
"Dated this 8th day of December 18--."[16]
You may regard the above document in the light of a deadly and
destructive missile, thrown by an unperceived enemy into a peaceful
citadel; attracting no particular notice from the innocent unsuspecting
inhabitants--among whom, nevertheless, it presently explodes, and all is
terror, death, and ruin.
Mr. Parkinson, Mr. Aubrey's solicitor, who resided at Grilston, the
post-town nearest to Yatton, from which it was distant about six or
seven miles, was sitting on the evening of Tuesday the 28th December
18--, in his office, nearly finishing a letter to his London agents,
Messrs. Runnington and Company--one of the most eminent firms in the
profession--and which he was desirous of despatching by that night's
mail. Among other papers which have come into my hands in connection
with this history, I have happened to light on the letter which he was
writing; and as it is not long, and affords a specimen of the way in
which business is carried on between town and country attorneys and
solicitors, here followeth a copy of it:--
"Grilston, 28th Dec. 18--.
"DEAR SIRS,
"_Re Middleton_.
"Have you got the marriage-settlements between these parties ready?
If so, please send them as soon as possible; for both the lady's
and gentleman's friends are (as usual in such cases) very pressing
for them.
"_Puddinghead_ v. _Quickwit_.
"Plaintiff bought a horse of defendant in November last, 'warranted
sound,' and paid for it on the spot £64. A week afterwards, his
attention was accidentally drawn to the animal's head; and to his
infinite surprise, he discovered that the left eye was a _glass
eye_, so closely resembling the other in color, that the difference
could not be discovered except on a very close examination. I have
seen it myself, and it is indeed wonderfully well done. My
countrymen are certainly pretty sharp hands in such matters--but
this beats everything I ever heard of. Surely this is a breach of
the warranty? Or is it to be considered a _patent_ defect, which
would not be within the warranty?[17]--Please take pleader's
opinion, and particularly as to whether the horse could be brought
into court to be viewed by the court and jury, which would have a
great effect. If your pleader thinks the action will lie, let him
draw declaration, _venue_--Lancashire (for my client would have no
chance with a Yorkshire jury,) if you think the _venue_ is
transitory, and that defendant would not be successful on a motion
to change it. _Qu._--Is the man who sold the horse to defendant a
_competent[18] witness_ for the plaintiff, to prove that, when he
sold it to defendant, it had but one eye, and that on this account
the horse was sold for less?
"_Mule_ v. _Stott_.
"I cannot get these parties to come to an amicable settlement. You
may remember, from the two former actions, that it is for damages
on account of two geese of defendant having been found trespassing
on a few yards of a field belonging to the plaintiff. Defendant now
contends that he is entitled to common, _pour cause de vicinage_.
_Qu._--Can this be shown under Not Guilty, or must it be pleaded
specially?--About two years ago, by the way, a pig belonging to
plaintiff got into defendant's flower-garden, and did at least £3
worth of damage--Can this be in any way set off against the present
action? There is no hope of avoiding a third trial, as the parties
are now more exasperated against each other than ever, and the
expense (as at least fifteen witnesses will be called on each side)
will amount to upwards of £250. You had better retain Mr.
Cacklegander.
"_Re Lords Oldacre and De la Zouch._
"Are the deeds herein engrossed? As it is a matter of magnitude,
and the foundation of extensive and permanent family arrangements,
pray let the greatest care be taken to secure accuracy. Please take
special care of the stamps"----
Thus far had the worthy writer proceeded with his letter, when Waters
made his appearance, delivering to him the declaration in ejectment
which had been served upon old Jolter, and also the instructions
concerning it which had been given by Mr. Aubrey. After Mr. Parkinson
had asked particularly concerning Mr. Aubrey's health, and what had
brought him so suddenly to Yatton, he cast his eye hastily over the
"Declaration"--and at once and contemptuously came to the same
conclusion concerning it which had been arrived at by Waters and Mr.
Aubrey, viz. that it was another little arrow out of the quiver of the
litigious Mr. Tomkins. As soon as Waters had left, Mr. Parkinson thus
proceeded to conclude his letter:--
"_Doe dem. Titmouse_ v. _Roe_.
"I enclose you Declaration herein, served yesterday. No doubt it is
the disputed slip of waste land adjoining the cottage of old Jacob
Jolter, a tenant of Mr. Aubrey of Yatton, that is sought to be
recovered. I am quite sick of this petty annoyance, as also is Mr.
Aubrey, who is now down here. Please call on Messrs. Quirk, Gammon,
and Snap, of Saffron Hill, and settle the matter finally, on the
best terms you can; it being Mr. Aubrey's wish that old Jolter (who
is very feeble and timid) should suffer no inconvenience. I observe
a new lessor of the plaintiff, with a very singular name. I suppose
it is the name of some prior holder of the acre or two of property
at present held by Mr. Tomkins.
"Hoping soon to hear from you, (particularly about the
marriage-settlement,) I am,
"Dear Sirs,
"(With all the compliments of the season,)
"Yours truly,
"JAMES PARKINSON.
"MESSRS. RUNNINGTON & CO.
"P. S.--The oysters and codfish came to hand in excellent order,
for which please accept my best thanks.
"I shall remit you in a day or two £100 on account."
This letter, lying among some twenty or thirty similar ones on Mr.
Runnington's table, on the morning of its arrival in town, was opened in
its turn; and then, in like manner, with most of the others, handed over
to the managing clerk, in order that he might inquire into and report
upon the state of the various matters of business referred to. As to the
last item (_Doe dem. Titmouse_ v. _Roe_) in Mr. Parkinson's letter,
there seemed no particular reason for hurrying; so two or three days had
elapsed before Mr. Runnington, having some little casual business to
transact with Messrs. Quirk, Gammon, and Snap, bethought himself of
looking at his Diary, to see if there were not something else that he
had to do with that very sharp "house." Putting, therefore, the
Declaration in _Doe d. Titmouse_ v. _Roe_ into his pocket, it was not
long before he was to be seen at the office in Saffron Hill--and in the
very room in it which had been the scene of several memorable interviews
between Mr. Tittlebat Titmouse and Messrs. Quirk, Gammon, and Snap. I
shall not detail what transpired on that occasion between Mr.
Runnington, and Messrs. Quirk and Gammon, with whom he was closeted for
nearly an hour. On quitting the office his cheek was flushed, and his
manner somewhat excited. After walking a little way in a moody manner
and with slow step, he suddenly jumped into a hackney-coach, and within
a quarter of an hour's time had secured an inside place in the Tally-ho
coach, which started for York at two o'clock that afternoon--much
doubting within himself, the while, whether he ought not to have set off
at once in a post-chaise and four. He then made one or two calls in the
Temple; and, hurrying home to the office, made hasty arrangements for
his sudden journey into Yorkshire. He was a calm and experienced man--in
fact, a first-rate man of business; and you may be assured that this
rapid and decisive movement of his had been the result of some very
startling disclosure made to him by Messrs. Quirk and Gammon.
Now, let us glide back to the delightful solitude which we reluctantly
quitted so short a time ago.
Mr. Aubrey was a studious and ambitious man; and in acceding so readily
to the wishes of his wife and sister, to spend the Christmas recess at
Yatton, had been not a little influenced by one consideration, which he
had not thought it worth while to mention--namely, that it would afford
him an opportunity of addressing himself with effect to a very important
and complicated question, which was to be brought before the House
shortly after its reassembling, and of which he then knew,
comparatively speaking, nothing at all. For this purpose he had had a
quantity of Parliamentary papers, &c. &c. &c., packed up and sent down
by coach; and he quite gloated over the prospect of their being duly
deposited upon his table, in the tranquil leisure of his library, at
Yatton. But quietly as he supposed all this to have been managed, Mrs.
Aubrey and Kate had a most accurate knowledge of his movements, and
resolved within themselves, (being therein comforted and assisted by old
Mrs. Aubrey,) that, as at their instances Mr. Aubrey had come down to
Yatton, so they would take care that he should have not merely nominal,
but real holidays. Unless he thought fit to rise at an early hour in the
morning, (which Mrs. Aubrey, junior, took upon herself to say _she_
would take care should never be the case,) it was decreed that he should
not be allowed to waste more than two hours a-day alone in his library.
'T was therefore in vain for him to sit at breakfast with eye aslant and
thought-laden brow, as if meditating a long day's seclusion; somehow or
another, he never got above an hour to himself. He was often momentarily
petulant on these occasions, and soon saw through the designs of his
enemies; but he so heartily and tenderly loved them--so thoroughly
appreciated the affection which dictated their little manoeuvres--that
he soon surrendered at discretion, and, in fact, placed himself almost
entirely at their mercy; resolving to make up for lost time on his
return to town, and earnestly hoping that the interests of the nation
would not suffer in the mean while! In short, the ladies of Yatton had
agreed on their line of operations: that almost every night of their
stay in the country should be devoted either to entertaining or visiting
their neighbors; and as a preparatory movement, that the days (weather
permitting) should be occupied with exercise in the open air; in making
"morning" calls on neighbors at several miles' distance from the Hall
and from each other; and from which they generally returned only in time
enough to dress for dinner. As soon, indeed, as the _York True Blue_
(the leading county paper) had announced the arrival at Yatton of
"Charles Aubrey, Esq., M. P., and his family, for the Christmas recess,"
the efforts of Mrs. and Miss Aubrey were most powerfully seconded by a
constant succession of visitors--by
"Troops of friends,"
as the lodge-keeper could have testified; for he and his buxom wife were
continually opening and shutting the great gates. On the Monday after
Christmas-day, (_i. e._ the day but one following,) came cantering up to
the Hall Lord De la Zouch and Mr. Delamere, of course staying to
luncheon and bearing a most pressing invitation from Lady De la Zouch,
zealously backed by themselves, for the Aubreys to join a large party at
Fotheringham Castle on New-Year's Eve. This was accepted--a day and a
night were thus gone at a swoop. The same thing happened with the
Oldfields, their nearest neighbors; with Sir Percival Pickering at
Luddington Court, where was a superb new picture-gallery to be
critically inspected by Mr. Aubrey--the Earl of Oldacre, a college
friend of Mr. Aubrey's--the venerable Lady Stratton, the earliest friend
and schoolfellow of old Mrs. Aubrey, and so forth. Then Kate had several
visits to pay on her own account; and being fond of horseback, but not
of riding about the country with only a groom in attendance, her brother
_must_ accompany her on these occasions. The first week of their stay in
the country was devoted to visiting their neighbors and friends in the
way I have stated; the next was to be spent in receiving them at Yatton,
during which time the old Hall was to ring with merry hospitality.
Then there was a little world of other matters to occupy Mr. Aubrey's
attention, and which naturally crowded upon him, living so little as he
had latterly lived at Yatton. He often had a kind of levee of his
humbler neighbors, tenants, and constituents; and on these occasions his
real goodness of nature, his simplicity, his patience, his forbearance,
his sweetness of temper, his benevolence, shone conspicuous. With all
these more endearing qualities, there was yet a placid dignity about him
which would have chilled undue familiarity, and repelled
presumption--had they ventured to manifest themselves. He had here no
motive or occasion for ostentation, or, as it is called,
popularity-hunting. In a sense it might be said of him, that he was
"monarch of all he surveyed." It is true, he was member for the
borough--an honor, however, for which he was indebted to the natural
influence of his commanding position--one which left him his own master,
not converting him into a paltry delegate, handcuffed by pledges on
public questions, and laden with injunctions concerning petty local
interests only--liable, moreover, to be called to an account at any
moment by ignorant and insolent demagogues--but a member of Parliament
training to become a statesman, possessed of a free-will, and therefore
capable of independent and enlightened deliberations; placed by his
fortune above the reach of temptation--but I shall not go any farther,
for the portraiture of a member of Parliament of those days suggests
such a humiliating and bitter contrast, that I shall not ruffle either
my own or my reader's temper by sketching one of modern days. On the
occasions I have been alluding to, Mr. Aubrey was not only condescending
and generous, but practically acute and discriminating; qualities of
his, these latter, so well known, however, as to leave him at length
scarce any opportunities of exercising them. His quiet but decisive
interference put an end to many local unpleasantnesses and annoyances,
and caused his increasing absence from Yatton to be very deeply
regretted. Was a lad or a wench taking to idle and dissolute courses? A
kind, or, as the occasion required, a stern expostulation of his--for he
was a justice of the peace moreover--brought them to their senses. He
had a very happy knack of reasoning and laughing quarrelsome neighbors
into reconciliation and good-humor. He had a keen eye after the
practical details of agriculture; was equally quick at detecting an
inconvenience, and appreciating--sometimes even suggesting--a remedy;
and had, on several occasions, brought such knowledge to bear very
effectively upon discussions in Parliament. His constituents, few in
number undoubtedly, and humble, were quite satisfied with, and proud of,
their member; and his unexpected appearance diffused among them real and
general satisfaction. As a landlord, he was beloved by his numerous
tenantry; and well he might--for never was there so easy and liberal a
landlord: he might at any time have increased his rental by £1,500 or
£2,000 a-year, as his steward frequently intimated to him--but in vain.
"Ten thousand a-year," would say Mr. Aubrey, "is far more than my
necessities require--it affords me and my family every luxury that I can
conceive of; and its magnitude reminds me constantly that hereafter I
shall be called upon to give a very strict and solemn account of _my_
stewardship." I would my space could admit of my completing, as it ought
to be completed, this portraiture of a true Christian gentleman!
As he rode up to the Hare and Hounds Inn, at Grilston, one morning, to
transact some little business, and also to look in on the Farmers' Club,
which was then holding one of its fortnightly meetings, (every one
touching his hat and bowing to him on each side of the long street, as
he slowly passed up it,) he perceived that his horse limped on one
foot. On dismounting, therefore, he stopped to see what was the matter,
while his groom took up the foot to examine it.
"Dey-vilish fine horse!" exclaimed the voice of one standing close
beside him, and in a tone of most disagreeable confidence. The
exclamation was addressed to Mr. Aubrey; who, on turning to the speaker,
beheld a young man--('twas, in fact, Titmouse)--dressed in a style of
the most extravagant absurdity. One hand was stuck into the hinder
pocket of a stylish top-coat, (the everlasting tip of a white
pocket-handkerchief glistening at the mouth of his breast-pocket;) the
other held a cigar to his mouth, from which, as he addressed Mr. Aubrey
with an air of signal assurance, he slowly expelled the smoke which he
had inhaled. Mr. Aubrey turned towards him with a cold and surprised
air, without replying; at the same time wondering where he had seen the
ridiculous object before.
"The horses in these parts ar'n't to be compared with them at
London--eh, sir?" quoth Titmouse, approaching closer to Mr. Aubrey and
his groom, to see what the latter was doing--who, on hearing Titmouse's
last sally, gave him a very significant look.
"I'm afraid the people here won't relish your remarks, sir!" replied Mr.
Aubrey, calmly--hardly able to forbear a smile; at the same time, with
an astonished air, scanning the figure of his companion from head to
foot.
"Who cares?" inquired Titmouse, with a very energetic oath. At this
moment up came a farmer, who, observing Mr. Aubrey, made him a very low
bow. Mr. Aubrey's attention being at the moment occupied with Titmouse,
he did not observe the salutation; not so with Titmouse, who, conceiving
it to have been directed to himself, acknowledged it by taking off his
hat with great grace! Mr. Aubrey presently entered the house, having
ordered his groom to bring back the horse in an hour's time.
"Pray," said he, mildly, to the landlady, "who is that person smoking
the cigar outside?"
"Why, sir," she replied, "he's a Mr. _Brown_; and has another with him
here--who's going up to London by this afternoon's coach--this one stays
behind a day or two longer. They're queer people, sir. Such dandies! Do
nothing but smoke, and drink brandy and water, sir; only that t' other
writes a good deal."
"Well, I wish you would remind him," said Mr. Aubrey, smiling, "that, if
he thinks fit to speak to _me_ again, or in my presence, I am a
magistrate, and have the power of fining him five shillings for every
oath he utters."
"What! sir," quoth she, reverently--"has he been speaking to _you_?
Well, I never!! He's the most forward little upstart I ever see'd!" said
she, dropping her voice; "and the sooner he takes himself off from here
the better; for he's always winking at the maids and talking impudence
to them. I'se box his ears, I warrant him, one of these times!" Mr.
Aubrey smiled, and went up-stairs.
"There don't seem to be _much_ wrong," quoth Titmouse to the groom, with
a condescending air, as soon as Mr. Aubrey had entered the house.
"Much you know about it, I don't guess!" quoth Sam, with a contemptuous
smile.
"Who's your master, fellow?" inquired Titmouse, knocking off the ashes
from the tip of his cigar.
"A gentleman. What's _yours_?"
"Curse your impudence, you vagabond"---- The words were hardly out of
his mouth before Sam, with a slight tap of his hand, had knocked
Titmouse's glossy hat off his head, and Titmouse's purple-hued hair
stood exposed to view, provoking the jeers and laughter of one or two
bystanders. Titmouse appeared about to strike the groom; who, hastily
giving the bridles of his horses into the hands of an hostler, threw
himself into boxing attitude; and being a clean, tight-built, stout
young fellow, looked a very formidable object, as he came squaring
nearer and nearer to the dismayed Titmouse; and on behalf of the
outraged honor of all the horses of Yorkshire, was just going to let fly
his _one-two_, when a sharp tapping at the bow-window overhead startled
him for a moment, interrupting his war-like demonstrations; and, on
casting up his eyes, he beheld the threatening figure of his master, who
was shaking his whip at him. He dropped his guard, touched his hat very
humbly, and resumed his horses' bridles; muttering, however, to
Titmouse, "If thou'rt a man, come down into t' yard, and I'll mak thee
think a horse kicked thee, a liar as thou art!"
"Who's that gentleman gone up-stairs?" inquired Titmouse of the
landlady, after he had sneaked into the inn.
"Squire Aubrey of Yatton," she replied tartly. Titmouse's face,
previously very pale, flushed all over. "Ay, ay," she continued
sharply--"thou _must_ be chattering to the grand folks, and thou'st
nearly put thy foot into 't at last, I can tell thee; for that's a
magistrate, and thou'st been a-swearing afore him." Titmouse smiled
rather faintly; and entering the parlor, affected to be engaged with a
county newspaper; and he remained very quiet for upwards of an hour, not
venturing out of the room till he had seen off Mr. Aubrey and his
formidable Sam.
It was the hunting season; but Mr. Aubrey, though he had as fine horses
as were to be found in the county, and which were always at the service
of his friends, partly from want of inclination, and partly from the
delicacy of his constitution, never shared in the sports of the field.
Now and then, however, he rode to cover, to see the hounds throw off,
and exchange greetings with a great number of his friends and
neighbors, on such occasions collected together. This he did, the
morning after that on which he had visited Grilston, accompanied, at
their earnest entreaty, by Mrs. Aubrey and Kate. I am not painting
angels, but describing frail human nature; and truth forces me to say,
that Kate had a kind of a notion that on such occasions she did not
appear to disadvantage. I protest I love her not the less for it! Is
there a beautiful woman under the sun who is not really aware of her
charms, and of the effect they produce upon our sex? Pooh! I never will
believe to the contrary. In Kate's composition this ingredient was but
an imperceptible alloy in virgin gold. Now, how was it that she came to
think of this hunting appointment? I do not exactly know; but I
recollect that when Lord De la Zouch last called at Yatton, he happened
to mention it at lunch, and to say that he and one Geoffrey Lovel
Delamere---- but however that may be, behold, on a bright Thursday
morning, Aubrey and his two lovely companions made their welcome
appearance at the field, superbly mounted, and most cordially greeted by
all present. Miss Aubrey attracted universal admiration; but there was
one handsome youngster, his well-formed figure showing to great
advantage in his new pink and leathers, who made a point of challenging
her special notice, and in doing so, attracting that of all his envious
fellow-sportsmen; and that was Delamere. He seemed, indeed, infinitely
more taken up with the little party from Yatton than with the serious
business of the day. His horse, however, had an eye to business; and
with erect ears, catching the first welcome signal sooner than the
gallant person who sat upon it, sprang off like lightning and would have
left its abstracted _rider_ behind, had he not been a first-rate
"_seat_." In fact, Kate herself was not sufficiently on her guard; and
her eager filly suddenly put in requisition all her rider's little and
skill to rein her in--which having done, Kate's eye looked rather
anxiously after her late companion, who, however, had already cleared
the first hedge, and was fast making up to the scattering scarlet crowd.
Oh, the bright exhilarating scene!
"Heigh ho--Agnes!" said Kate, with a slight sigh, as soon as Delamere
had disappeared--"I was very nearly off."
"So was somebody else, Kate!" said Mrs. Aubrey, with a sly smile.
"This is a very cool contrivance of yours, Kate,--- bringing us here
this morning," said her brother, rather gravely.
"What _do_ you mean, Charles?" she inquired, slightly reddening. He
good-naturedly tapped her shoulder with his whip, laughed, urged his
horse into a canter, and they were all soon on their way to General
Grim's, an old friend of the late Mr. Aubrey's.
The party assembled on New-Year's Eve at Fotheringham Castle, the
magnificent residence of Lord De la Zouch, was numerous and brilliant.
The Aubreys arrived about five o'clock; and on emerging from their
respective apartments into the drawing-room, soon after the welcome
sound of the dinner bell--Mr. Aubrey leading in his lovely wife,
followed shortly afterwards by his beautiful sister--they attracted
general attention. He himself looked handsome, for the brisk country air
had brought out a glow upon his too frequently pallid
countenance--pallid with the unwholesome atmosphere, the late hours, the
wasting excitement of the House of Commons; and his smile was cheerful,
his eye bright and penetrating. Nothing makes such quick triumphant way
in English society, as the promise of speedy political distinction. It
will supply to its happy possessor the want of family and fortune--it
rapidly melts away all distinctions. The obscure but eloquent commoner
finds himself suddenly standing in the rarefied atmosphere of privilege
and exclusiveness--the familiar equal, often the conscious superior, of
the haughtiest peer of the realm. A single successful speech in the
House of Commons, opens before its utterer the shining doors of fashion
and greatness as if by magic. It is as it were POWER stepping into its
palace, welcomed by gay crowds of eager, obsequious expectants. Who
would not press forward to grasp in anxious welcome the hand which, in a
few short years, may dispense the glittering baubles sighed after by the
great, and the more substantial patronage of office--which may point
public opinion in any direction? But, to go no farther, what if to all
this be added a previous position in society, such as that occupied by
Mr. Aubrey! There were several very fine women, married and single, in
that splendid drawing-room; but there were two girls, in very different
styles of beauty, who were soon allowed by all present to carry off the
palm between them--I mean Miss Aubrey and Lady Caroline Caversham, the
only daughter of the Marchioness of Redborough, both of whom were on a
visit at the castle of some duration. Lady Caroline and Miss Aubrey were
of about the same age, and dressed almost exactly alike, viz. in white
satin; only Lady Caroline wore a brilliant diamond necklace, whereas
Kate had chosen to wear not a single ornament.
Lady Caroline was a trifle the taller, and had a very stately carriage.
Her hair was black as jet--her features were refined and delicate; but
they wore a very cold, haughty expression. After a glance at her
half-closed eyes, and the swan-like curve of her snowy neck, you
unconsciously withdrew from her, as from an inaccessible beauty. The
more you looked at her, the more she satisfied your critical scrutiny;
but your _feelings_ went not out towards her--they were, in a manner,
chilled and repulsed. Look, now, at our own Kate Aubrey--nay, never
fear to place her beside yon supercilious divinity--look at her, and
your _heart_ acknowledges her loveliness; your soul thrills at sight of
her bewitching blue eyes--eyes now sparkling with excitement, then
languishing with softness, in accordance with the varying emotions of a
sensitive nature--a most susceptible heart. How her sunny curls
harmonize with the delicacy and richness of her complexion! Her figure,
observe, is, of the two, a trifle fuller than her rival's--stay, don't
let your admiring eyes settle so intently upon her budding form, or you
will confuse Kate--turn away, or she will shrink from you like the
sensitive plant! Lady Caroline seems the exquisite but frigid production
of a skilful statuary, who had caught a divinity in the very act of
disdainfully setting her foot for the first time upon this poor earth of
ours; but Kate is a living and breathing beauty--as it were, fresh from
the hand of God himself!
Kate was very affectionately greeted by Lady De la Zouch, a lofty and
dignified woman of about fifty; so also by Lord De la Zouch; but when
young Delamere welcomed her with a palpable embarrassment of manner, a
more brilliant color stole into her cheek, and a keen observer might
have noticed a little, rapid, undulating motion in her bosom, which told
of some inward emotion. And a keen observer Kate at that moment had in
her beautiful rival; from whose cheek, as that of Kate deepened in its
roseate bloom, faded away the color entirely, leaving it the hue of the
lily. Her drooping eyelids could scarcely conceal the glances of alarm
and anger which she darted at her plainly successful rival in the
affections of the future Lord De la Zouch. Kate was quickly aware of
this state of matters; and it required no little self-control to appear
_un_aware of it. Delamere took her down to dinner, and seated himself
beside her, and paid her such pointed attentions as at length really
distressed her; and she was quite relieved when the time came for the
ladies to withdraw. That she had not a secret yearning towards Delamere,
the frequent companion of her early days, I cannot assert, because I
know it would be contrary to the fact. Circumstances had kept him on the
Continent for more than a year between the period of his quitting Eton
and going to Oxford, where another twelve-month had slipped away without
his visiting Yorkshire: thus two years had elapsed--and behold Kate had
become a woman and he a man! They had mutual predispositions towards
each other, and 'twas mere accident which of them first manifested
symptoms of fondness for the other--the same result must have followed,
namely, (to use a great word,) reciprocation. Lord and Lady De la Zouch
idolized their son, and were old and very firm friends of the Aubrey
family; and, if Delamere really formed an attachment to one of Miss
Aubrey's beauty, accomplishments, talent, amiability, and ancient
family--why should he not be gratified? Kate, whether she would or not,
was set down to the piano, Lady Caroline accompanying her on the
harp--on which she usually performed with mingled skill and grace; but
on the present occasion, both the fair performers found fault with their
instruments--then with themselves--and presently gave up the attempt in
despair. But when, at a later period of the evening, Kate's spirits had
been a little exhilarated with dancing, and she sat down, at Lord De la
Zouch's request, and gave that exquisite song from the _Tempest_--"Where
the bee sucks"--all the witchery of her voice and manner had returned;
and as for Delamere, he would have given the world to marry her that
minute, and so forever extinguish the hopes of--as he imagined--two or
three nascent competitors for the beautiful prize then present.
That Kate was good as beautiful, the following little incident, which
happened to her on the ensuing evening, will show. There was a girl in
the village at Yatton, about sixteen or seventeen years old, called
Phoebe Williams; a very pretty girl, and who had spent about two years
at the Hall as a laundry-maid, but had been obliged, some few months
before the time I am speaking of, to return to her parents in the
village, ill of a decline. She had been a sweet-tempered girl in her
situation, and all her fellow-servants felt great interest in her, as
also did Miss Aubrey. Mrs. Aubrey sent her daily jellies, sago, and
other such matters, suitable for the poor girl's condition; and about a
quarter of an hour after her return from Fotheringham, Miss Aubrey,
finding one of the female servants about to set off with some of the
above-mentioned articles, and hearing that poor Phoebe was getting
rapidly worse, instead of retiring to her room to undress, slipped on an
additional shawl, and resolved to accompany the servant to the village.
She said not a word to either her mother, her sister-in-law, or her
brother; but simply left word with her maid whither she was going, and
that she should quickly return. It was snowing smartly when Kate set
off; but she cared not, hurried on by the impulse of kindness, which led
her to pay perhaps a last visit to the humble sufferer. She walked
alongside of the elderly female servant, asking her a number of
questions about Phoebe, and her sorrowing father and mother. It was
nearly dark as they quitted the Park gates, and snowing, if anything,
faster than when they had left the Hall. Kate, wrapping her shawl still
closer round her slender figure, her face being pretty well protected by
her veil, hurried on, and they soon reached Williams' cottage. Its
humble tenants were, as may be imagined, not a little surprised at her
appearance at such an hour and in such inclement weather, and so
apparently unattended. Poor Phoebe, worn to a shadow, was sitting
opposite the fire, in a little wooden armchair, and propped up by a
pillow. She trembled, and her lips moved on seeing Miss Aubrey, who,
sitting down on a stool beside her, after laying aside her snow-whitened
shawl and bonnet, spoke to her in the most gentle and soothing strain
imaginable. What a contrast in their two figures! 'T would have been no
violent stretch of imagination to say, that Catherine Aubrey at that
moment looked like a ministering angel sent to comfort the wretched
sufferer in her extremity. Phoebe's father and mother stood on each
side of the little fireplace, gazing with tearful eyes upon their only
child, soon about to depart from them forever. The poor girl was indeed
a touching object. She had been very pretty, but now her face was white
and wofully emaciated--the dread impress of consumption was upon it. Her
wasted fingers were clasped together on her lap, holding between them a
little handkerchief, with which, evidently with great effort, she
occasionally wiped the dampness from her face.
"You're very good, ma'am," she whispered, "to come to see me, and so
late. They say it's a sad cold night."
"I heard, Phoebe, that you were not so well, and I thought I would
just step along with Margaret, who has brought you some more jelly. Did
you like the last!"
"Y-e-s, ma'am," she replied hesitatingly; "but it's _very_ hard for me
to swallow anything now, my throat feels so sore." Here her mother shook
her head and looked aside; for the doctor had only that morning
explained to her the nature of the distressing symptom to which her
daughter was alluding--as evidencing the very last stage of her fatal
disorder.
"I'm very sorry to hear you say so, Phoebe," replied Miss Aubrey. "Do
you think there's anything else that Mrs. Jackson could make for you?"
"No, ma'am, thank you; I feel it's no use trying to swallow anything
more," said poor Phoebe, faintly.
"While there's life," whispered Miss Aubrey, in a subdued, hesitating
tone, "there's hope--_they say_." Phoebe shook her head mournfully.
"Don't stop long, dear lady--it's getting very late for you to be out
alone. Father will go"----
"Never mind me, Phoebe--I can take care of myself. I hope you mind
what good Dr. Tatham says to you? You know this sickness is from God,
Phoebe. He knows what is best for his creatures."
"Thank God, ma'am, I think I feel resigned. I know it is God's will; but
I'm very sorry for poor father and mother--they'll be so lone like when
they don't see Phoebe about." Her father gazed intently at her, and
the tears ran trickling down his cheeks; her mother put her apron before
her face, and shook her head in silent anguish. Miss Aubrey did not
speak for a few moments. "I see you have been reading the prayer-book
mamma gave you when you were at the Hall," said she at length, observing
the little volume lying open on Phoebe's lap.
"Yes, ma'am--I was _trying_; but somehow lately, I can't read, for
there's a kind of mist comes over my eyes, and I can't see."
"That's weakness, Phoebe," said Miss Aubrey, quickly but tremulously.
"May I make bold, ma'am," commenced Phoebe, languidly, after a
hesitating pause, "to ask _you_ to read the little psalm I was trying to
read a while ago? I should so like to hear _you_."
"I'll try, Phoebe," said Miss Aubrey, taking the book, which was open
at the sixth psalm. 'Twas a severe trial, for her feelings were not a
little excited already. But how could she refuse the dying girl? So Miss
Aubrey began a little indistinctly, in a very low tone, and with
frequent pauses; for the tears every now and then quite obscured her
sight. She managed, however, to get as far as the sixth verse, which was
thus:--
_"I am weary of my groaning: every night wash I my bed, and water
my couch with tears: My beauty is gone for very trouble."_
Here Kate's voice suddenly stopped. She buried her face for a moment or
two in her handkerchief, and said hastily, "I can't read any more,
Phoebe!" Every one in the little room was in tears except poor
Phoebe, who seemed past that.
"It's time for me to go, now, Phoebe. We'll send some one early in the
morning to know how you are," said Miss Aubrey, rising and putting on
her bonnet and shawl. She contrived to beckon Phoebe's mother to the
back of the room, and silently slipped a couple of guineas into her
hands; for she knew the mournful occasion there would soon be for such
assistance! She then left, peremptorily declining the attendance of
Phoebe's father--saying that it _must_ be dark when she could not find
the way to the Hall, which was almost in a straight line from the
cottage, and little more than a quarter of a mile off. It was very much
darker, and it still snowed, though not so thickly as when she had come.
She and Margaret walked side by side, at a quick pace, talking together
about poor Phoebe. Just as she was approaching the extremity of the
village, nearest the park--
"Ah! my lovely gals!" exclaimed a voice, in a low but most offensive
tone--"alone? How uncommon"--Miss Aubrey for a moment seemed
thunderstruck at so sudden and unprecedented an occurrence: then she
hurried on with a beating heart, whispering to Margaret to keep close to
her, and not to be alarmed. The speaker, however, kept pace with them.
"Lovely gals!--wish I'd an umbrella, my angels!--Take my arm? Ah! Pretty
gals!"
"Who _are_ you, sir?" at length exclaimed Kate, spiritedly, suddenly
stopping, and turning to the rude speaker.
[Who else should it be but Tittlebat Titmouse!] "Who am I? Ah, ha!
Lovely gals! one that loves the pretty gals!"
"Do you know, fellow, who I am?" inquired Miss Aubrey, indignantly,
flinging aside her veil, and disclosing her beautiful face, white as
death, but indistinctly visible in the darkness, to her insolent
assailant.
"No, 'pon my soul, no; but lovely gal! lovely gal!--'pon my life,
spirited gal!--do you no harm! Take my arm?"----
"Wretch! ruffian! How dare you insult a lady in this manner? Do you know
who I am? My name, sir, is Aubrey--I am Miss Aubrey of the Hall! Do not
think"----
Titmouse felt as if he were on the point of dropping down dead at that
moment, with amazement and terror; and when Miss Aubrey's servant
screamed out at the top of her voice, "Help!--help, there!" Titmouse,
without uttering a syllable more, took to his heels, just as the door of
a cottage, at only a few yards' distance, opened, and out rushed a
strapping farmer, shouting--"Hey! what be t' matter?" You may guess his
amazement on discovering Miss Aubrey, and his fury at learning the cause
of her alarm. Out of doors he pelted, without his hat, uttering a volley
of fearful imprecations, and calling on the unseen miscreant to come
forward; for whom it was lucky that he had time to escape from a pair of
fists that in a minute or two would have beaten his little carcass into
a jelly! Miss Aubrey was so overcome by the shock she had suffered, that
but for a glass of water she might have fainted. As soon as she had a
little recovered from her agitation, she set off home, accompanied by
Margaret, and followed very closely by the farmer, with a tremendous
knotted stick under his arm--(he wanted to have taken his
double-barrelled gun)--and thus she soon reached the Hall, not a little
tired and agitated. This little incident, however, she kept to herself,
and enjoined her two attendants to do the same; for she knew the
distress it would have occasioned those whom she loved. As it was she
was somewhat sharply rebuked by her mother and brother, who had just
sent two servants out in quest of her, and whom it was singular that she
should have missed. This is not the place to give an account of the
eccentric movements of our friend Titmouse; still there can be no harm
in my just mentioning that the sight of Miss Aubrey on horseback had
half maddened the little fool; her image had never been effaced from his
memory since the occasion on which, as already explained, he had first
seen her; and as soon as he had ascertained, through Snap's inquiries,
who she was, he became more frenzied in the matter than before, because
he thought he now saw a probability of obtaining her. "If, like
children," says Edmund Burke, "we will cry for the moon, why, like
children, we must--_cry on_." Whether this was not something like the
position of Mr. Tittlebat Titmouse, in his passion for CATHERINE AUBREY,
the reader can judge. He had unbosomed himself in the matter to his
confidential adviser, Mr. Snap; who, having accomplished his errand, had
the day before returned to town, very much against his will, leaving
Titmouse behind, to bring about, by his own delicate and skilful
management, an union between himself, as the future lord of Yatton, and
the beautiful sister of its present occupant.