UNPLEASANT as was the situation in which Lewis was left at the end
of the last chapter, we can scarcely imagine that any of our readers,
however they may be accustomed to look on the “night side of nature,”
can have coolly made up their minds to the worst, and settled to their
own dissatisfaction that he fell a victim to the poacher’s gun. We say
we cannot imagine such a possibility; not because we have any very deep
reliance on the tender-heartedness of all our fellow-creatures, seeing
that this tale may fall into the hands of a poor-law guardian or a
political economist; that a butcher may read it fresh from the shambles,
or a barrister after defending some confessed murderer. But we feel
certain, butcher or barrister, law-giver or guardian must alike perceive
that, as we are writing the life and adventures of Lewis Arundel, we
cannot commit manslaughter without adding thereunto suicide; or, to
speak plainly, we cannot kill Lewis without docking our own tale;
therefore, the utmost extent for which our most truculent reader can
possibly hope must be a severe gun-shot wound, entailing a lingering
illness and a shattered constitution. But even these pleasant and
reasonable expectations are doomed to meet with disappointment, the fact
being that almost at the moment in which “long Hardy” (for he it was)
levelled his gun at Lewis’s retreating figure, his quick ear had caught
a sound betokening the advance of some person through the bushes in
his immediate vicinity; and neither wishing to encounter any of the
gamekeeper’s satellites, nor considering the deed he had meditated
exactly calculated to be performed before any, even the most select
audience, the poacher slowly recovered his gun and proceeded to convey
himself away, after a singular snake-like fashion of his own, reserving
to himself the right of shooting his supposed enemy at some more
convenient season. In the meantime Lewis walked quietly on, unconscious
of the danger he had escaped, until a turn in the road brought him in
sight of his companions. During the course of their homeward walk Lewis
questioned the gamekeeper as to his intentions concerning the poachers
to whose proceedings he had that morning gained a clue.
“Veil, yer see, Mr. Arundel,” returned Millar, in whose estimation Lewis
had risen fifty per cent, since his clever shot at the snipe, “yer see,
it ain’t ther fust time as this chap Hardy has give us a good deal o’
trouble: we catched him a poarchin’ about three year ago, and he wor
in ---------- gaol for six months at a stretch. Veil, ven he cum out,
he tuk to bad courses altogether--jined ther chartists, them chaps as
preaches equalerty, ’cos, being at the wery bottom of ther ladder
therselves, equalerty would pull them hup and their betters down;
vunce let ’em get to ther middle round, and they’d soon give
up equalerty--hit would be the ‘haristogracy of talent,’ or ther
‘shu-premacy of physic-all force’ (vich means, adwisability of pitching
into somebody else) vith ’em then. I hates such cant as I hates
varmint, so I do.”
Having delivered himself of this opinion with much emphasis, the keeper
proceeded to relieve his mind by flogging an inoffensive dog for an
imaginary offence ere he continued--
“Veil, arter he jined the chartists he vent to Lunnun as a Delicate, as
they calls ’em; and has they found him in wittles and drink, lodgin’
and hother parquisites, in course he worn’t in no hurry to cum back;
howsomdever, I suppose at last they diskivered what I could a told ’em
at furst--that he wasn’t worth his keep; and so they packed him off home
agen. I ’spected vhen I heard he vas arrived vot he’d be hup to. He
calls hisself a blacksmith, but he drives more shots into ’ares and
pheasands than nails into ’orses’ ’oofs, _you_ may depend.”
“And how do you propose to put a stop to his depredations?” inquired
Lewis.
“Vy, I should like to catch him in the wery act--nab him vith the game
upon him,” returned the keeper meditatively; “then ve could get him
another six months. But he’s precious sly, and uncommon swift of
foot too, though he ain’t fur hoff my age, vich shall never see
five-and-forty no more.”
“I wish, Millar,” said Lewis, after a moment’s consideration, “I wish
that whenever you receive information which you think likely to lead to
this man’s capture, you’d send me word; there’s nothing I should like
better than to lend you a hand in taking him. I might be useful to you,
for I am considered a fast runner.”
“And suppose it comes to blows? Them poarching chaps is rough customers
to handle sometimes,” rejoined Millar, with a cunning twinkle in his
eye, as if he expected this information would alter his companion’s
intentions.
“So much the more exciting,” returned Lewis eagerly; “an affray with
poachers would be a real treat after such a life of inaction as I’ve
been leading lately.”
As he spoke--throwing off for a moment the cold reserve which had now
become habitual to him--his eyes flashed, he drew himself up to his full
height, and flung back his graceful head with an air of proud defiance.
The gamekeeper regarded him fixedly, and mentally compared him with,
not the fighting gladiator, for Millar’s unclassical education had never
rendered him acquainted with that illustrious statue, but he had
once been present at a prize-fight, in which a tall, athletic youth,
rejoicing in the ornithological sobriquet of “the spicy Dabchick,”
proved victor, and to that dabchick did he assimilate Lewis. At length
his thoughts found vent in the following ejaculation--
“Veil, Mr. Arundel, hif ther’s many more like you hup there, that
blessed Lunnun can’t be as bad a place as I thought it.”
Lewis smiled. Perhaps (for, after all, he was human and under
twenty-one) the evident admiration which had replaced the no less
evident contempt with which the sturdy gamekeeper had regarded him
earlier in their acquaintance was not without its charm; at all events,
when, after another hour’s shooting, Millar went home to dinner, and
Lewis and Walter returned to Broadhurst, the young tutor diminished his
income to the extent of half-a-crown, and the keeper, as he pocketed
the “tip,” renewed his assurance that he would send Mr. Arundel timely
notice “vhenever there vas a chance of being down upon that poarching
willain, Hardy.”
Charley Leicester, as he did not start for Constantinople, found himself
at liberty to escort Laura Peyton and his cousin Annie to view the ruins
of Monkton Priory, which in themselves were quite worth the trouble of
a ride; had they, however, been even a less interesting combination
of bricks and mortar than the National Gallery in Trafalgar Square
(supposing such a thing possible), it would not have signified to the
party who then visited them. Never were three individuals less inclined
to be critical, or more thoroughly determined to be pleased with
everything. The old grey ruins, frowning beneath the clear wintry sky,
appeared the colour of strawberry ice to them; every object reflected
the rose-tint of their happiness. As for Charley, a change had come o’er
him. The indolent, fastidious man of fashion, whose spotless gloves and
irreproachable boots were the envy and admiration of Bond Street, had
disappeared, and in his place arose an honest, genuine, light-hearted,
agreeable, sensible being, to whom nothing seemed to come amiss, and
who appeared endowed with a preternatural power of diffusing his own
superabundant happiness amongst all who came in contact with him. The
girth of his saddle broke; they had no groom with them. “Grooms were
such a bore, he would be groom,” Charley had said; consequently there
were no means at hand by which the injury could be repaired.
“Well, never mind; he would get some string at the first cottage and tie
it up; he was rather glad it had happened, riding without a girth was
great fun.”
But Laura’s horse stumbled, and Charley, forgetting his precarious seat,
dashed in the spurs, intending to spring forward to her assistance. The
horse _did_ spring forward, but the saddle turned round. Mr. Leicester
was, however, fated that day to fall on his legs, literally as well as
metaphorically, and beyond being splashed up to his knees by alighting
on a spot where the sun had thawed the ice into a puddle, he sustained
no further injury. Laura was frightened; he must not mount again till he
had been able to get the girth mended.
“Very well,” returned Charley; “he would lead the horse then; it was
pleasanter to walk than to ride such a cold day as that; he liked it
particularly.”
So he marched sturdily through mud and mire, leading his own horse and
resting his hand on the mane of the animal ridden by Laura, for the
space of some five miles, laughing and talking all the time so agreeably
that the young lady came to the conclusion that she had never properly
appreciated his powers of conversation till that moment. Altogether,
despite the broken girth and the mud and the cold, to say nothing of a
slight snowstorm which overtook them ere they reached home, each member
of that little party felt mentally convinced that they had never before
enjoyed a ride so much in all their lives.
“Arundel, where are you?” exclaimed Leicester, putting his head into the
study as he passed the door on his way to his apartment. “Can you spare
me five minutes’ conversation?” he continued, as Lewis, closing a book,
rose to receive him.
“Certainly,” was the reply; “pray come in.”
“I’ve been wishing to see you all day,” resumed Leicester, carefully
shutting the door and glancing round the room. “Where is your charge?”
“He is with the General,” was the reply. “He likes to have him for
half-an-hour every day before he goes to dress; he talks to him, and
tries to instil into his mind correct notions regarding things in
general, and his own future social position in particular. Walter sits
still and listens, but I’m afraid he does not understand much about it.”
“No great loss either, I’ve a notion,” returned Charley irreverently. He
paused, whistled a few bars of “Son Geloso,” entangled his spur in the
hearthrug, extricated it with much difficulty, then turning abruptly to
Lewis, he exclaimed, “Arundel, I’m no hand at making fine speeches, but
recollect if ever you want a friend I owe you more than I can possibly
repay you. Not that this is such a very uncommon relation for me to
stand in towards people,” he added with a smile.
“Nay,” returned Lewis, “you are reversing our positions: I am your
debtor for my introduction to this family, and for an amount of kindness
and consideration which you must be placed, like myself, in a dependent
situation fully to appreciate. But,” he added, glancing at his friend’s
happy face, “I hope you have some good new’s to tell me?”
“You are right in your conjecture,” replied Leicester, “but it is mainly
owing to your straightforward and sensible advice that I have gained the
prize I strove for. I was within an ace of losing it, though;” and he
then gave a hasty outline of his day’s adventures, with which the reader
has been already made acquainted.
Lewis congratulated him warmly on his good fortune. “You see I was
right when I told you Miss Peyton was not so indifferent to you as you
imagined,” he said, “and that she liked you, not because you were a man
of fashion, the admired of all admirers, but because she had sufficient
penetration to discover that you were something more--that you possessed
higher and better qualities, and were not----”
“Go on, my dear Arundel,” urged Leicester as Lewis paused, “go on. I
like plain speaking when it comes from a friendly mouth.”
“The mere butterfly you strove to appear, I was going to say,” resumed
Lewis; “but you will think me strangely impertinent.”
“Not at all,” returned Leicester, “it’s the truth; I can see it plainly
now. I’ve taken as much trouble to make myself appear a fool as other
men do to gain a reputation for wisdom. Well, it’s never too late to
mend. I shall turn over a new leaf from this time forth, give up dress,
restrict myself to one cigar a day, moderate my affection for pale ale,
invest capital in worsted gloves and a cotton umbrella, and become a
regular business character.” He paused, and drawing a chair to the fire,
seated himself, and stretching out his legs, subjected his boots, which
bore unmistakable traces of his pedestrian episode, to the influence of
the blazing wood. Having thus made himself comfortable, he fell into a
fit of musing which lasted till, after gazing vacantly at his
extended legs for some moments, his features suddenly assumed an eager
expression, and he exclaimed, “Confound those blockheads, Schneider &
Shears: I suppose if I’ve told them once I’ve told them fifty times to
give more room in the leg for riding-trousers. A horse’s back is a wide
thing, and of course when you stretch your legs across it you require
the trousers to fit sufficiently loosely to accommodate themselves to
the position; they need not set like a couple of hop sacks either; the
thing’s simple enough. I know if I’d a pair of scissors I could cut them
out myself.”
Glancing at Lewis as he spoke, Leicester perceived that he was
struggling, not over successfully, to preserve his gravity, and the
absurdity of the thing striking him for the first time, he indulged in
a hearty laugh at his own expense ere he added, “Heigh-ho! it’s not so
easy to get rid of old habits as one imagines. I see it will take me
longer to unpuppyise myself than I was aware of. Seriously, however,
I don’t mean to continue a mere idler, living on my wife’s fortune. My
father has interest with Government, and I shall ask him to push it
and obtain for me some creditable appointment or other. He will have no
difficulty; the Hon. Charles Leicester, husband to the rich Miss
Peyton, will possess much stronger claims upon his country than Charley
Leicester the portionless younger son. In this age of humbug it is easy
enough to get a thing if you don’t care whether you have it or not; but
if you chance to be some poor wretch, to whom the obtaining it is life
or death, ten to one but you are done out of it. Poverty is the only
unpardonable sin in these days; the worship of the golden calf is a
species of idolatry to which Christians are prone as well as Jews.
It’s rare to find a sceptic as to that religion, even amongst the most
inveterate unbelievers.”
Lewis, to whom Leicester in his self-engrossment had not perceived that
his remarks would apply, bit his lip and coloured; then wishing to save
his companion the mortification of discovering that he had accidentally
wounded his feelings, he hastened to change the conversation by
observing--
“How will the magnanimous Marmaduke bear the news of your success?”
“Oh! to be sure, I was going to tell you about him when something put
it out of my head,” returned Leicester. “The great De Grandeville was
greater than ever on the subject--it was such fun. He came up to me
after breakfast this morning, and catching hold of my button, began:
‘Ar--Mr. Leicester--excuse--ar--won’t detain you five minutes,
but--ar--you see in regard to--ar--the matter we conversed on yesterday,
when you were good enough to give me the benefit of your opinion
concerning a certain proposed alliance, if I may call your attention
once more to the subject; you will perceive that--ar--the affair has
assumed a very different aspect--ar--indeed so completely different that
I feel confident you will agree with me in considering the--ar--in fact
the arrangement no longer desirable.’
“I told him I was quite prepared to think as he did on this point, and
begged to know in what the mysterious impediment consisted. ‘Well,
sir--ar--I don’t say it--ar--by way of a boast--ar--such things are
quite out of my line, but you must have yourself perceived the
very marked encouragement which my advances met with yesterday
evening--ar--in fact the game was--ar--in my own hands!’ I succeeded
in repressing a strong desire to kick him, and he continued with bland
dignity: ‘Ar--finding that this was the case, I felt that, as a man of
honour, I was bound--ar--to make up my mind definitely as to my future
course, and had--ar--all but resolved to acquaint the young lady with
the brilliant, that is--ar--in many points unexceptionable position
which awaited her, when fortunately--I might say providentially--it
occurred to me to open a letter I had that evening received from my
friend in the Herald’s College. Imagine my horror to learn that
her actual father, the immediately previous Peyton himself,
had--ar--_horresco referais_, as Pliny has it-- ’pon my word it quite
upset me!’
“‘This dreadful Papa, had he murdered somebody?’ inquired I.
“‘No, sir,’ was the answer; ‘Lord Ferrers and other men with
unexceptionable pedigrees have committed that crime. There is
nothing necessarily vulgar about murder; the case was far worse. This
intolerable proximate ancestor, who has not rested in his dishonoured
grave above half-a-dozen years, was not only guilty of belonging to an
intensely respectable firm in Liverpool, but had actually been insane
enough to allow his name to be entered as sleeping partner in a large
retail house on Ludgate Hill! Fancy a De Grandeville marrying the
daughter of ‘Plumpstern & Peyton’, dealers in cotton goods!”--’pon
my word, sir, it took away my breath to think of the narrow escape I’d
had!’ ‘And the young lady?’ inquired I.
“‘Ar--of course it will be--ar--disappointment, as I’ve no doubt she
considered--ar--that she’d made her book cleverly and stood to win, as
the betting men say; but--ar--she soon had tact enough to perceive that
the grapes were sour--ar--took that tone immediately,--clever girl,
sir, very--ar--I shouldn’t wonder if she were to give out that she had
discouraged my attentions--ar--in fact, virtually refused me--ar--I
shall not contradict her, I owe her that--ar--with the exception
of yourself, Mr. Leicester, her secret will be perfectly safe in my
keeping.’ It was now my turn; so drawing myself up as stiffly as
old Grant himself, I said, ‘Confidence begets confidence, Mr. De
Grandeville; so in return for your candour allow me to inform you that
Miss Peyton, doubtless driven to despair by your desertion, has done me
the honour to accept me as your substitute! One word more,’ I continued,
as, completely taken aback, he flushed crimson and began stammering out
apologetical ejaculations, ‘I have listened in silence to your account
of the transaction. I confess I have my own opinion about the matter,
but should you adhere to your intention of preserving a strict secrecy
in regard to the affair, I shall do so likewise; if not, I may feel
called on to publish a somewhat different version of these love
passages--one which will scarcely prove so agreeable to your
self-esteem; unless, indeed,’ I added, seeing that he was about to
bluster, ‘you prefer settling the business in a shorter way; in which
case I shall be quite at your service.’ So saying I raised my hat,
bowed, and turning on my heel, left him to his meditations.”
“Which must have been of a singularly unsatisfactory nature, I should
imagine,” returned Lewis, laughing. “But there is no chance of your
fighting, I hope?”
“Not the slightest, I expect,” replied Leicester. “De Grandeville, to do
him justice, is no coward, but he will have sense enough to see that
he can gain no _éclât_ by giving the affair publicity, and will remain
quiet for his own sake. Luckily, I’m not of a quarrelsome temperament,
or I should have horse-whipped him, or at least tried at it, when he was
talking about Laura.”
“It was a temptation which in your place I could not have resisted,”
rejoined Lewis.
“Ah, it’s easy to be magnanimous when one is happy,” returned Leicester;
“besides, I really was rather sorry for the poor devil, for, as I
dare say you’ve guessed long ago, it is clear Laura refused him last
night--in fact she as good as told me so.”
“Perhaps it may benefit him,” remarked Lewis. “His vanity was too
plethoric, and a little judicious lowering may conduce to the general
health of his moral system.”
“I’m afraid it’s a case of too long standing,” replied Leicester. “Such
a lamentable instance of egotism on the brain is not so easily to be
cured; however, he’s had a pretty strong dose this time, I must confess.
And now, seeing that my boots have been wet through for the last three
hours, the sooner I get rid of them the better.” So saying, Charley
Leicester took himself off, preparatory to performing the same operation
on his perfidious boots.