The reader has had, already, pretty distinct indications of the manner
in which Titmouse and Snap conducted themselves during their stay in
Yorkshire; and which, I fear, have not tended to raise either of these
gentlemen in the reader's estimation. Titmouse manifested a very natural
anxiety to see the present occupants of Yatton; and it was with infinite
difficulty that Snap could prevent him from sneaking about in the
immediate neighborhood of the Hall, with the hope of seeing them. His
first encounter with Mr. and Miss Aubrey was entirely accidental, as the
reader may remember; and when he found that the lady on horseback near
Yatton, and the lady whom he had striven to attract the notice of in
Hyde Park, were one and the same beautiful woman, and that that
beautiful woman was neither more nor less than the sister of the present
owner of Yatton--the marvellous discovery created a mighty pother in his
little feelings. The blaze of Kate Aubrey's beauty in an instant
consumed the images both of Tabitha Tag-rag and Dora Quirk. It even for
a while outshone the splendors of ten thousand a-year: such is the
inexpressible and incalculable power of woman's beauty over everything
in the shape of man--over even so despicable a sample of him, as
Tittlebat Titmouse.
While putting in practice some of those abominable tricks to which,
under Snap's tutelage, Titmouse had become accustomed in walking the
streets of London, and from which even the rough handling they had got
from farmer Hazel could not turn him, Titmouse at length, as has been
seen, most unwittingly fell foul of that fair creature, Catherine Aubrey
herself; who seemed truly like an angelic messenger, returning from her
errand of sympathy and mercy, and suddenly beset by a little imp of
darkness. When Titmouse discovered who was the object of his audacious
and revolting advances, his soul (such as it was) seemed petrified
within him; and it was fortunate that the shriek of Miss Aubrey's
attendant at length startled him into a recollection of a pair of heels,
to which he was that evening indebted for an escape from a most
murderous cudgelling, which might have been attended with one effect not
contemplated by him who inflicted it, (so profoundly in the dark are we
as to the causes and consequences of human actions;) viz. the retention
of the Aubreys in the possession of Yatton! Titmouse ran for nearly half
a mile on the high-road towards Grilston, without stopping. He dared not
venture to return to Yatton, with the sound of the lusty farmer's voice
in his ears, to get back from the Aubrey Arms the horse which had
brought him that afternoon from Grilston, to which place, therefore, he
walked on, through the snow and darkness; reaching his inn in a perfect
panic, from which, at length, a tumbler of stiff brandy and water, with
two or three cigars, somewhat relieved him. Forgetful of the solemn
pledge which he had given to Messrs. Quirk, Gammon, and Snap, not to
disclose his name or errand, and it never once occurring to him that if
he would but keep his own counsel, Miss Aubrey could never identify
_him_ with the ruffian who had assailed her; Titmouse spent the interval
between eight and twelve o'clock, at which latter hour the coach by
which he had resolved to return to London would pass through Grilston,
in inditing the following letter to Miss Aubrey:--
"_Grilston, January 6th, 18--._
"HONORED MISS,
"Hoping No Offence Will Be Taken where None is meant, (_which am
Sure of_,) This I send To say Who I Am which, Is the Right And True
Owner of Yatton which You Enjoy Amongst You All At This present
(Till The Law Give it to _Me_) Which It quickly Will, and No
Mistake, And which It Ought to Have done When I were First born And
Before Y^r Respect^e. Family ever Came into it, And All which Y^r
hon^d. Brother Have so unlawfully Got Possession Of must Come Back
to Them Whose Due It is w^h Is myself as will be Soon prov^d. And
w^h am most truely Sorry Of _on your own Acc^t_. (Meaning (hon^d.
Miss) you Alone) as Sure As Yatton is Intirely Mine So My Heart Is
_yours_ and No Longer my Own Ever since I Saw You first as Can
Easily prove but w^h doubtless You Have forgot Seeing You Never
New, because (as Mr. Gammon, My Solliciter And a Very Great Lawyer,
says) _Cases Alter Circumstances_, what Can I say More Than that I
Love you _Most Amazing_ Such As Never Thought Myself Capable of
Doing Before and w^h cannot help Ever Since I First saw your most
_Lovely_ and _Divine_ and _striking_ Face w^h have Stuck In my Mind
Ever Since Day and Night Sleeping and Waking I will Take my Oath
Never Of Having Lov'd Any one Else, Though (must Say) have Had a
Wonderful Many _Offers_ From Females of _The Highest Rank_ Since my
Truely Wonderful Good fortune got Talked About every Where but have
_Refused Them All_ for _y^r sake_, And Would All the World But you.
When I Saw You on Horseback It was All my Sudden confusion In
Seeing you (the Other Gent. was One of my Resp^e Solicitors) w^h
Threw Me off in that Ridiculous Way w^h was a Great Mortification
And made My brute Of A horse _go on so_, For I Remembered You and
was Wonderful struck _with Your Improv'd Appearance_ (As that Same
Gent. can Testify) And you was (Hon^d. Miss) Quite Wrong _To
Night_ when You Spoke so Uncommon Angry To Me, seeing If I Had Only
Known What Female It Was (meaning _yourself which I respect So_)
out so Late Alone I should Have spoke quite Different So hope You
Will think Nothing More Of that Truely _Unpleasant Event_ Now
(Hon^d. Madam) What I have to say Is if You will Please to
Condescend To Yield To My Desire We Can Live Most uncommon
Comfortable at Yatton Together w^h Place shall Have Great Pleasure
(if _you_ please) in _Marrying You From_ and I may (_perhaps_) Do
Something handsome for y^r. respectable Brother and Family, w^h can
Often Come to see us And Live in the Neighborhood, if You Refuse
me, Will not say What shall Happen to _Those_ which (am Told) _Owe
me a Precious Long Figure_ w^h May (_perhaps_) Make a Handsome
Abatement in, if You And I _Hit it_.
"Hoping You Will Forget What Have So Much Griev^d. me, And Write
p^t. return of Post,
"Am,
"hon^d. Miss
"Y^r. most Loving & Devoted Servant
"(Till Death)
TITTLEBAT TITMOUSE.
"PARTICULAR Private."
This exquisitely constructed document its accomplished writer sealed
twice, and then left, together with sixpence, in the hands of the
landlady of the Hare and Hounds, to be delivered at Yatton Hall the
first thing in the morning. The good woman, however--having no
particular wish to oblige such a strange puppy, whom she was only too
glad to get rid of, and having moreover a good deal to attend to--laid
the letter aside on the chimney-piece, and entirely lost sight of it for
nearly a fortnight. Shortly after the lamentable tidings concerning the
impending misfortunes of the Aubrey family had been communicated to the
inhabitants of Grilston, she forwarded the letter, (little dreaming of
the character in which its writer was likely, erelong, to reappear at
Grilston,) together with one or two others, a day or two after Miss
Aubrey had had the interview with her brother which I have described to
the reader; but it lay unnoticed by any one--above all, by the sweet
sufferer whose name was indicated on it--among a great number of
miscellaneous letters and papers which had been suffered to accumulate
on the library table.
Mr. Aubrey entered the library one morning, alone, for the purpose of
attending to many matters which had been long neglected. He was
evidently thinner: his face was pale, and his manner dejected: still
there was about him an air of calmness and resolution. Through the
richly-pictured old stained-glass window, the mottled sunbeams were
streaming in a kind of tender radiance upon the dear familiar objects
around him. All was silent. Having drawn his chair to the table, on
which was lying a confused heap of letters and papers, he felt a
momentary repugnance to enter upon the task which he had assigned to
himself; and rose and walked slowly for some time up and down the room,
with folded arms, uttering occasionally profound sighs. At length he
resumed his seat, and commenced the disheartening task of opening the
many letters before him. One of the earliest that came to his hand was
from Peter Johnson--the old tenant to whom he had lent the sum of two
hundred pounds, and it was full of fervent expressions of gratitude and
respect; Mr. Aubrey's heart ached as he read them. Then came a letter, a
fortnight old, bearing the frank of Lord C----, the Secretary of State
for Foreign Affairs. He opened it and read:--
"_Whitehall, 16th January, 18--._
"My DEAR AUBREY,
"You will remember that Lord ----'s motion stands for the 28th. We
all venture to calculate upon receiving your powerful support in
the debate. We expect to be much pressed with the Duke of ----'s
affair, which you handled shortly before the recess with such
signal ability and success. When you return to town, you must
expect a renewal of certain offers, which I most sincerely trust,
for the benefit of the public service, will not be _again_
declined.
"Ever yours faithfully,
"C----.
"(Private and confidential.)
"CHARLES AUBREY, Esq. M. P."
Mr. Aubrey laid down the letter calmly, as soon as he had read it; and
leaning back in his chair, seemed lost in thought for several minutes.
Presently he reapplied himself to his task, and opened and glanced over
a great many letters; the contents of several of which occasioned him
deep emotion. Some were from persons in distress whom he had assisted,
and who implored a continuance of his aid; others were from ardent
political friends--some sanguine, others desponding--concerning the
prospects of the session. Two or three hinted that it was everywhere
reported that he had been offered one of the under secretaryships, and
had declined; but that it was, at the king's desire, to be pressed upon
him. Many letters were on private, and still more on county, business;
and with one of them he was engaged when a servant entered with one of
that morning's county newspapers. Tired with his task, Mr. Aubrey rose
from his chair as the servant gave him the paper; and, standing before
the fire, unfolded the _Yorkshire Stingo_, and glanced listlessly over
its miscellaneous contents. At length his eye lit upon the following
paragraph:--
"The rumors so deeply affecting a member for a certain borough in
this county, and to which we alluded in our last paper but one,
turn out to be well founded. A claimant has started up to the very
large estates at present held by the gentleman in question; and we
are much misinformed if the ensuing spring assizes will not effect
a considerable change in the representation of the borough alluded
to, by relieving it from the Tory thraldom under which it has been
so long oppressed. We have no wish to bear hard upon a falling man;
and, therefore, shall make no comment upon the state of mind in
which that person may be presumed to be, who must be conscious of
having been so long enjoying the just rights of others. Some
extraordinary disclosures may be looked for when the trial comes
on. We have heard from a quarter on which we are disposed to place
reliance, that the claimant is a gentleman of decided Whig
principles, and who will prove a valuable accession to the Liberal
cause."[21]
Mr. Aubrey was certainly somewhat shocked by brutality such as this; but
on Miss Aubrey's entering the room, he quietly folded up the paper and
laid it aside, fearful lest his sister's feelings should be pierced by
the coarse and cruel paragraph which it contained. It had, in fact, been
concocted in London, in the office of Messrs. Quirk, Gammon, and Snap;
who were, as before stated, interested in the _Sunday Flash_, which was
in some sort connected, through the relationship of the editors, with
the _Yorkshire Stingo_. The idea had been suggested by Gammon, by way of
attempting to enlist the _political_ feeling of a portion of the county,
in favor of their client.
"Here are several letters for _you_, Kate," said her brother, picking
out several of them. The very first she took up, it having attracted her
attention by the double seal, and the vulgar style of the handwriting,
was that from Titmouse, which has just been laid before the reader. With
much surprise she opened the letter, her brother being similarly engaged
with his own; and her face getting gradually paler and paler as she went
on, at length she flung it on the floor with a passionate air, and burst
into tears. Her brother, with astonishment, exclaimed--"Dear Kate, what
is it?" and he rose and stooped to pick up the letter.
"Don't--don't, Charles!" she cried, putting her foot upon it, and
flinging her arms round his neck. "It is an audacious letter--a vulgar,
a cruel letter, dear Charles!" Her emotion increased as her thoughts
recurred to the heartless paragraph concerning her brother with which
the letter concluded. "I could have overlooked everything but _that_,"
said she, unwittingly. With gentle force he succeeded in getting hold
of the painfully ridiculous and contemptible effusion. He attempted
faintly to smile several times as he went on.
"Don't--don't, dearest Charles!" said she, passionately. "I can't bear
it!--Don't smile!--It's very far from your heart; you do it only to
assure _me_!"
Here Mr. Aubrey read the paragraph concerning himself. His face turned a
little paler than before, and his lips quivered with suppressed emotion.
"He is evidently a _very_ foolish fellow!" he exclaimed, walking towards
the window, with his back to his sister, whom he did not wish to see how
much he was affected by so petty an incident.
"What does he allude to, Kate, when he talks of your having spoken
angrily to him, and that he did not know you?" he inquired, after a few
moments' pause, returning to her.
"Oh, dear!--I am so _grieved_ that you should have noticed it--but since
you ask I will not deceive you!" and she told him the disgusting
occurrence alluded to in the letter. Mr. Aubrey drew himself up
unconsciously as Kate went on, and she perceived him becoming still
paler than before, and _felt_ the kindling anger of his eye.
"Forget it--forget it, dearest Charles!--So despicable a being is really
not worth a thought," said Kate, with increasing anxiety; for she had
never in her life before witnessed her brother the subject of such
powerful emotions as then made rigid his slender frame. At length
drawing a long breath--
"It is fortunate for him, Kate," said he, calmly, "that _he_ is not a
gentleman, and that I _endeavor to be_--a Christian." She flung her arms
round him, exclaiming, "There spoke my own noble brother!"
"I shall preserve this letter as a curiosity, Kate," said he, presently,
and with a faint smile, and a pointed significance of manner, which
arrested his sister's attention, he added,--"It is rather singular, but
some time before you came in, I opened a letter in which your name is
mentioned--I cannot say in a _similar_ manner, and yet--in short, it is
from Lord De la Zouch, enclosing one"----
Miss Aubrey suddenly blushed scarlet, and trembled violently.
"Don't be agitated, my dear Kate, the enclosure is from Lady De la
Zouch; and if it be in the same strain of kindness that pervades Lord De
la Zouch's letter to _me_"----
"I would rather that _you_ opened and read it, Charles"--she faltered,
sinking into a chair.
"Come, come, dear Kate--play the woman!" said her brother, with an
affectionate air--"To say that there is nothing in these letters that I
believe will interest you--very deeply gratify and interest your
feelings--would be"----
"I know--I--I--suspect--I"---- faltered Miss Aubrey, with much
agitation--"I shall return."
"Then you shall take these letters with you, and read, or not read them,
as you like," said her brother, putting them into her hand with a fond
and sorrowful smile, which soon, however, flitted away--and, leading her
to the door, he was once more alone; and, after a brief interval of
revery, he wrote answers to such of the many letters before him as he
considered earliest to require them.
Notwithstanding the judgment and tenderness with which Dr. Tatham
discharged the very serious duty which, at the entreaty of his afflicted
friends, he had undertaken, of breaking to Mrs. Aubrey the calamity with
which she and her family were menaced, the effects of the disclosure had
been most disastrous. They occasioned an attack of paralysis; and Mr.
Aubrey, who had long been awaiting the issue, in sickening suspense, in
an adjoining room, was hastily summoned in to behold a mournful and
heart-rending spectacle. His venerable mother--she who had given him
life, at the mortal peril of her own; she whom he cherished with
unutterable tenderness and reverence; she who doted upon him as upon the
light of her eyes; from whose dear lips he had never heard a word of
unkindness or severity; whose heart had never known an impulse but of
gentle, noble, unbounded generosity towards all around her--this
idolized being now lay suddenly prostrated and blighted before him----
Poor Aubrey yielded to his long and violent agony, in the presence of
her who could apparently no longer hear or see, or be sensible of what
was passing in the chamber.
"My son," said Dr. Tatham, after the first burst of his friend's grief
was over, and he knelt down beside his mother with her hand grasped in
his, "despise not the chastening of the Lord; neither be weary of his
correction:
"For whom the Lord loveth, he correcteth, even as a father the son in
whom he delighteth.
"The Lord will not cast off forever;
"But though he cause grief, yet will he have compassion according to the
multitude of his mercies.
"For he doth not afflict willingly, nor grieve the children of men."
It was with great difficulty that Dr. Tatham could render himself
audible while uttering these soothing and solemn passages of Scripture
in the ear of his distracted friend, beside whom he knelt.
Mrs. Aubrey had suffered a paralytic seizure, and lay motionless and
insensible; her features slightly disfigured, but partially concealed
beneath her long silvery gray hair, which had, in the suddenness of the
fit, strayed from beneath her cap.
"But what am I about?" at length exclaimed Mr. Aubrey, with a languid
and alarmed air--"has medical assistance"----
"Dr. Goddart and Mr. Whately are both sent for by several servants, and
will doubtless be very quickly here," replied Dr. Tatham; and while he
yet spoke, Mr. Whately--who, when hastened on by the servant who had
been sent for him, was entering the park on a visit to young Mrs.
Aubrey, who was also seriously ill and in peculiarly critical
circumstances--entered the room, and immediately resorted to the
necessary measures. Soon afterwards, also, Dr. Goddart arrived; but
alas, how little could they do for the venerable sufferer!
During the next, and for many ensuing days, the lodge was assailed by
very many anxious and sympathizing inquirers, who were answered by
Waters, whom Mr. Aubrey--oppressed by the number of friends who hurried
up to the Hall, and insisted upon seeing him to ascertain the extent to
which the dreadful rumors were correct--had stationed there during the
day to afford the requisite information. The Hall was pervaded by a
gloom which could be _felt_. Every servant had a woe-begone look, and
moved about as if a funeral were stirring. Little Charles and Agnes,
almost imprisoned in their nursery, seemed quite puzzled and confused at
the strange unusual seriousness, and quietness, and melancholy faces
everywhere about them. Kate romped not with them as had been her wont;
but would constantly burst into tears as she held them on her knee or in
her arms, trying to evade the continual questioning of Charles. "I think
it will be time for _me_ to cry too, by-and-by!" said he to her one day,
with an air half in jest and half in earnest, that made poor Kate's
tears flow afresh. Sleepless nights and days of sorrow soon told upon
her appearance. Her glorious buoyancy of spirits, which erewhile, as it
were, had filled the whole Hall with gladness--where were they now? Ah,
me! the rich bloom had disappeared from her beautiful cheek; but her
high spirit, though oppressed, was not broken, and she stood firmly and
calmly amid the scowling skies and lowering tempests. You fancied you
saw her auburn tresses stirred upon her pale but calm brow by the breath
of the approaching storm; and that she also felt it, but trembled not,
gazing on it with a bright and steadfast eye. Her _heart_ might be,
indeed, bruised and shaken; but her _spirit_ was, ay, unconquerable. My
glorious Kate, how my heart goes forth towards you!
And thou, her brother, who art of kindred spirit; who art supported by
philosophy, and exalted by religion, so that thy constancy cannot be
shaken or overthrown by the black and ominous swell of trouble which is
increasing and closing around thee, I know that thou wilt outlive the
storm--and yet it rocks thee!
A month or two may see thee and thine expelled from Old Yatton, and not
merely having lost everything, but with a liability to thy successor
which will hang round thy neck like a millstone. What, indeed, is to
become of you all? Whither will you go? And your suffering mother,
should she indeed survive so long, is her precious form to be borne away
from Yatton?
Around thee stand those who, if thou fallest, will perish--and that thou
knowest; around thy calm, sorrowful, but erect figure, are a melancholy
group--thy afflicted mother--the wife of thy bosom--thy two little
children--thy brave and beautiful sister--Yet think not, Misfortune!
that over this man thou art about to achieve thy accustomed triumphs.
Here, behold, thou hast a MAN to contend with; nay, more, a CHRISTIAN
MAN, who hath calmly girded up his loins against the coming fight!
'Twas Sabbath evening, some five weeks or so after the happening of the
mournful events above commemorated, and Kate, having spent, as usual,
several hours keeping watch beside the silent and motionless figure of
her mother, had quitted the chamber for a brief interval, thinking to
relieve her oppressed spirits by walking, for a little while, up and
down the long gallery. Having slowly paced backwards and forwards once
or twice, she rested against the little oriel window at the farthest
extremity of the gallery, and gazed with saddened eye upon the setting
sun, till at length, in calm grandeur, it disappeared beneath the
horizon. 'Twas to Kate a solemn and mournful sign; especially followed
as it was by the deepening shadows and gloom of evening. She sighed, and
with her hands crossed on her bosom, gazed, with a tearful eye, into the
darkening sky, where glittered the brilliant evening star. Thus she
remained, a thousand pensive and tender thoughts passing through her
mind, till the increasing chills of evening warned her to retire. "I
will go," said she to herself, as she walked slowly along, "and try to
play the evening hymn--I may not have _many_ more opportunities!" With
this view, she gently opened the drawing-room door, and, glancing
around, found that she should be alone. The fire gave the only light.
She opened the organ with a sigh, and then sat down before it for some
minutes without touching the keys. At length she struck them very
gently, as if fearful of disturbing those who, she soon recollected,
were too distant to hear her. Ah! how many associations were stirred up
as she played over the simple and solemn air! At length, in a low and
rather tremulous voice, she began--
"Soon will the evening star, with silver ray,
Shed its mild radiance o'er the sacred day;
Resume we, then, ere night and silence reign,
The rites which holiness and heaven ordain"----
She sang the last line somewhat indistinctly; and, overcome by a flood
of tender recollections, ceased playing; then, leaning her head upon her
hand, she shed tears. At length she resumed--
"Here humbly let us hope our Maker's smile
Will crown with sweet success our earthly toil--
And here, on each returning Sabbath, join"----
Here poor Kate's voice quivered--and after one or two ineffectual
attempts to sing the next line, she sobbed, and ceased playing. She
remained for several minutes, her face buried in her handkerchief,
shedding tears. At length, "I'll play the last verse," thought she, "and
then sit down before the fire, and read over the evening service,"
(feeling for her little prayer-book,) "before I return to poor mamma!"
With a firmer hand and voice she proceeded--
"Father of Heaven! in whom our hopes confide,
Whose power defends us, and whose precepts guide--
In life our guardian, and in death our friend,
Glory supreme be thine, till time shall end."
She played and sang these lines with a kind of solemn energy; and she
felt as if a ray of heavenly light had trembled for a moment upon her
upturned eye. She had not been, as she had supposed, alone; in the
farthest corner of the room had been all the while sitting her
brother--too exquisitely touched by the simplicity and goodness of his
sweet sister, to apprise her of his presence. Several times his feelings
had nearly overpowered him; and as she concluded, he arose from his
chair, and approaching her, after her first surprise was over,--"Heaven
bless you, dear Kate!" said he, taking her hands in his own. Neither of
them spoke for a few moments.
"I could not have sung a line, or played, if I had known that you were
here," said she, tremulously.
"I thought so, Kate, and therefore I remained silent"--
"I don't think I shall ever have heart to play again!" she replied--they
were both silent.
"Be assured, Kate, that submission to the will of God," said Mr. Aubrey,
as (he with his arm round his sister) they walked slowly to and fro, "is
the great lesson to be learned from the troubles of life; and for that
purpose they are sent. Let us bear up awhile; the waters will not go
over our heads!"
"I hope not," replied his sister, faintly, and in tears. "How did you
leave Agnes, Charles?"
"She was asleep; she is still very feeble"---- Here the door was
suddenly opened, and Miss Aubrey's maid entered hastily, exclaiming,
"Are you here, ma'am?--or sir?"
"Here we are," they replied, hurrying towards her; "what is the matter?"
"Oh, Madam is _talking_! She began speaking all of a sudden. She did,
indeed, sir. She's talking, and"---- continued the girl, almost
breathless.
"My mother talking!" exclaimed Aubrey, with an amazed air.
"Oh yes, sir! she is--she is, indeed!"
Miss Aubrey sank into her brother's arms, overcome for a moment with the
sudden and surprising intelligence.
"Rouse yourself, Kate!" he exclaimed with animation; "did I not tell you
that Heaven would not forget us? But I must hasten up-stairs, to hear
the joyful sounds with my own ears--and do you follow as soon as you
can." Leaving her in the care of her maid, he hastened out of the room,
and was soon at the door of his mother's chamber. He stood for a moment
in the doorway, and his straining ears caught the gentle tones of his
mother's voice, speaking in a low but cheerful tone. His knees trembled
beneath him with joyful excitement. Fearful of trusting himself in her
presence till he had become calmer, he noiselessly sank on the nearest
chair, with beating heart and straining ear--ay, every tone of that dear
voice thrilled through his heart. But I shall not torture myself or my
reader by dwelling upon the scene which ensued. Alas! the venerable
sufferer's tongue was indeed loosed;--but reason had fled! He
listened--he distinguished her words. She supposed that all her
children--dead and alive--were romping about her; she spoke of him and
his sister as she had spoken to them twenty years ago!
As soon as he had made this woful discovery, overwhelmed with grief, he
staggered out of the room; and motioning his sister, who was entering,
into an adjoining apartment, communicated to her, with great agitation,
the lamentable condition of their mother.