“If you think your mystery in stratagem can bring this instru-
ment of honour again into his native quarter, be magnanimous
in the enterprise, and go on; I will grace the attempt for a
worthy exploit if you speed well in it.”
“Now I see the bottom of your purpose.”
“You see it lawful then.”
“I love him, sir,
Dearer than eyesight, space and liberty,
Beyond what can be valued rich or rare,
No less than life, with grace, health, beauty, honour;
A love that makes breath poor, and speech unable--”
“Adieu! these foolish drops do somewhat drown my manly
spirit.”
--_Shakspeare_.
“FREDDY, can I have half an hour's private conversation with you?” asked
I, as soon as we had exchanged salutations.
“To be sure you can; but,” he added, catching a glimpse of the anxious
expression of my face, “there is nothing wrong, is there?”
I made a gesture indicative of silence, and he opened a door into a sort
of lawyer's office, saying, in a low voice:--
“Come in here, we shall not be interrupted; the governor's in London,
and the women are out walking”. “So much the better,” replied I, “for
the business I am come upon is strictly private, and will not brook
delay.” I then told him as concisely as possible the whole affair
~206~~from beginning to end; he listened attentively to my recital,
merely asking a question now and then to elucidate any particular point
he did not clearly understand. I fancy he made a gesture of surprise
when I first mentioned Wilford's name, and when I had concluded, he
asked,
“Wilford, you say, this man's name is? What is his Christian name?”
“Stephen.”
“And he's a young fellow?”
“About three or four and twenty.”
“And you want to prevent his being able to shoot Harry Oaklands at five
o'clock to-morrow morning?”
“I do not know the hour, but I conclude the meeting will probably
take place to-morrow morning. Wilford would not wish to remain in the
neighbourhood longer than necessary, lest he should attract attention.”
Coleman mused for some minutes, and then muttering as though he were
thinking aloud--
“It might be done, so; yes, that would do. I suppose,” he said, at
length addressing me, “if Master Wilford were taken into custody on a
magistrate's warrant at half-past four a.m., that would suit your ideas
very nicely? I can so arrange the matter that Wilford will never be able
to trace the laying the information to our door.”
“But how can you avoid that?” inquired I.
“Why, if you must know,” replied Freddy, “I am acquainted with a man
who would give a hundred pounds any day to stop our friend Stephen from
fighting a duel.”
“What, do you know Wilford then?” asked I.
“_Ray-ther_,” was the reply, accompanied by a very significant
wink--“just a _very few_--I should say we're not entire strangers,
though I have never enjoyed the honour of much personal intercourse with
him; but I do not so deeply regret that, as, from your account, it seems
rather a dangerous privilege.”
“How in the world do you know anything about him?”
“Oh! it's a long story, but the chief points of it are these:
The aforesaid Mr. Wilford, if he can continue to exist till he is
five-and-twenty, comes into five thousand pounds a year; but if we don't
interfere, and Harry Oaklands has the luck to send a bullet into him
to-morrow morning, away it all goes to the next heir. Wilford is now
three-and-twenty, and the trustees make him a liberal allowance of eight
hundred pounds per annum, on the strength of which he spends between two
thousand pounds and three thousand pounds: of course, in order ~207~~to
do this, he has to raise money on his expectancies. About two months
ago he wanted to sell the contingent reversion of a large estate in
Yorkshire, from which the greater part of his future income is to be
derived; and a client of ours thought of buying it--ergo, we were set to
work upon the matter: whilst we were investigating his right, title, and
all that sort of thing, lo and behold! a heavy claim, amounting to some
thousands, is made upon the property--by whom, do you think, of all
people in the world?--none other than our old acquaintance, Richard
Cumberland!”
“Good heavens!” exclaimed I, “how strange!”
“Cumberland,” continued Freddy, “has become somehow connected with a
lot of bill-brokers,--low stock-jobbers,--in fact, a very shady set of
people, with whom, however, in our profession, we cannot avoid being
sometimes brought into contact; he appears, indeed, himself to be a sort
of cross between black-leg and money-lender, improved by a considerable
dash of the gambler, and presenting altogether a very choice specimen of
the thorough and complete blackguard. Somehow or other he contrives to
have cash at command, and, instead of being pigeoned, has now taken to
pigeoning others; and, to give the devil his due, I fancy he does a very
pretty stroke of business in that line. He is a good deal improved in
manner and appearance since you remember him; and among people who don't
know him very intimately, he affects the man about town: in short, he is
quite at the top of his profession. Wilford became acquainted with him
at one of the Newmarket meetings, lost money to him, and borrowed money
of him, giving him as security a contingent charge upon the estate of
double the amount--ergo, don't you see, if Wilford should by any chance
get his quietus from Harry's pistol, he won't live to come into his
property, in which case Master Dicky Cumberland is minus some thousands.
Now, if I contrive to give him a hint, depend upon it he stops the duel.
I will caution him not to let my name appear--he will not hear yours; so
in this way I think we may manage the affair, and defy the old gentleman
himself, though he's a very cunning lawyer, to trace it to us.”
“Well,” said I, “as I see no other means of saving Oaklands' life--for
this Wilford is a noted duellist, and no doubt thirsts to wash out the
insult he has received in blood--I suppose we must do it; but it is an
underhand proceeding which I do not at all like.”
“There you go with your chivalric, high-flown, romantic ~208~~notions,
you would stand coolly by, and see the best friend you have in the world
butchered before your eyes, rather than avail yourself of a splendid
chance of saving him, which Fortune has thrown in your way, because,
forsooth, it involves a little innocent manoeuvring!--for heaven's sake,
my dear boy, get off your stilts, and give common sense fair play.”
“I can only repeat what I have just said,” replied I; “I will do it,
because I believe it is the only thing to save Harry; but I do not like
it, and never shall.”
“I cry you mercy, Signor Francisco dc Fairlegh, the veritable Don
Quixote of the nineteenth century,” laughed Freddy; “and now, most
chivalrous sir, where do you imagine it probable that this evil
_faiteur_, this man of powder and pistols, hangs out?”
“He is most likely at the inn at Carsley, a village on the London road,
about four miles from us,” replied I; “I don't know of any other place
in the neighbourhood where he could be lodged. But I'll tell you what
I'll do--the name of the inn is the White Horse--if I should prove
wrong in fancying he is there, I will send a message to that inn to say
where he may be found.”
“Exactly,” returned Freddy, entering the White Horse, Carsley, in his
tablets; “now I think I know all about it, and it shall not be my fault
if this duel comes off to-morrow morning. Good-bye, old fellow! I wish
you did not look quite so grumpy about it, but it's all those mediæval
prejudices of yours. I daresay you'd think it a much more manly way of
stopping the business to electrotype yourself in brass and steel, throw
yourself across a cart-horse plated to match, and shouting, 'Fairlegh
to the rescue!' run a long pole, pointed with iron, through Wilford's
jugular. Now, I consider mine much the most philosophical way of doing
the trick; in fact, conducting a dodge of this kind always affords me
intense satisfaction, and puts me into the highest possible
spirits. Have you ever seen the war dance, in which the
Hotto-potto-cum-from-the-wash-ki Indians usually indulge before they set
out on an expedition?--A quarter to three,” he continued, pulling out
his watch, “the coach to London passes in five minutes, I shan't have
time to show it you--it begins so.” Thus saying, he flung himself into a
perfectly indescribable attitude, and commenced a series of evolutions,
more nearly resembling the contortions of a dancing bear, than any other
Terpsichorean exhibition with which I was acquainted. Having continued
this until he had made himself very ~209~~unnecessarily hot, he wound
up the performance by flinging a summerset, in doing which he overturned
himself and the coal-scuttle into a box of deeds; whereby becoming
embarrassed, he experienced much difficulty in getting right end
upwards again. “There,” he exclaimed, throwing himself into an
arm-chair commonly occupied by his father's portly form--“There! talk of
accomplishments--show me a fashionable young lady who can do that,
and I'll say she _is_ accomplished. It's rather warm work, though,” he
continued, wiping his brow, “unless one wears the appropriate costume,
which, I believe, consists of a judicious mixture of red and yellow
paint, three feathers, and the scalp of your opposite neighbour.
Pleasant that,” he added, pointing to the reversed coal-scuttle--“that's
a new addition, not of 'Coke upon Littleton,' but of Coal upon--what's
the suit? aye, Buffer _versus_ Stoker. I shall have to make out a case
of circumstantial evidence against the cat, or I'm safe for a rowing
from the governor. Good-bye, old boy! don't fancy I'm mad; I'm not
the fool I seem, though I confess appearances are against me just at
present. There's the coach, by Jingo, three bays and a grey--no chance
of the box--is this a hat? off we go.” So saying, he shook my hand
warmly, bounded down the steps, and the next moment was rattling away
towards London as fast as four horses could hurry him.
It was with a heavy heart, and a foreboding of coming evil, that
I mounted my horse, and slowly retraced my way towards Heathfield.
Coleman's exuberant spirits, which, I believe, were partly assumed with
a view to cheer me by diverting my attention from the painful subject
which engrossed it, had produced an effect diametrically opposite to
that which he had intended, and I felt dissatisfied with the step I
had taken, doubtful of the success of his mission, anxious to a degree,
which was absolutely painful, about the fate of Harry, and altogether
thoroughly miserable. I reached home in time for dinner, during which
meal my abstracted manner and low spirits were so apparent as to set my
mother speculating on the chances of my having over-heated myself and
“got a chill,” whilst Fanny's anxious questioning glances, to which I
was well aware I could furnish no satisfactory reply, produced in me a
degree of nervous excitement which was unbearable, and, the moment the
cloth was withdrawn, I left the room and rambled forth into the wildest
parts of the park. The quiet peaceful beauty of the scene, and the
refreshing coolness of the ~210~~evening air, had, in a great measure,
calmed the excitement under which I laboured, and I was turning my steps
towards the Hall when I met Oaklands and Archer, who, finding I was not
at the cottage, had come in search of me. Half an hour's conversation
served to render all my previous conjectures matters of certainty. The
challenge had been given and accepted, Wentworth was to be Wilford's
second, and he and his principal were staying at the inn at Carsley.
The spot chosen for the scene of action was a plot of grass-land
situated about half-way between Carsley and Heathfield, so as to be
equally accessible to both parties; the time appointed was five o'clock
the following morning. Archer was to act as Oaklands' second; everything
had been managed with the greatest caution, and they did not believe a
single creature, excepting themselves, had the slightest suspicion that
such an event was likely to take place. They had resolved not to tell me
till everything was settled, as they feared my opposition. Having thus
taken me into their confidence, Archer left us, saying, that “probably
Oaklands might like to have some private conversation with me, and he
would join us again in half an hour”. Rejoiced at this opportunity,
I entered at once upon the subject which most interested me, and used
every argument I could think of to induce Harry not to return Wilford's
fire.
Oaklands heard me for some time in silence, and I began to fear my
efforts would be fruitless, when suddenly he turned towards me, and
said--his fine eyes beaming with an almost womanly expression of
tenderness as he spoke--“Would this thing make you happier in case I
fall?” A silent pressure of the hand was my only answer, and he added in
a low voice, “then it shall be as you wish”. A pause ensued for my
own part, the thought that this might be our last meeting completely
overpowered me; I did not know till that moment the strength and
intensity of my affection for him. The silence was at length interrupted
by Oaklands himself, and the low tones of his deep rich voice trembled
with emotion, as they fell mournfully on the stillness of the evening
air. “My father!” he said, “that kind old man, whose happiness is
wrapped up in my welfare--it will break his heart, for he has only me to
love. Frank, my brother!” he added, passing his arm round my neck, as he
had used to do when we were boys together, “you are young; your mind is
strong and vigorous, and will enable you to meet sorrow as a man should
confront and overcome whatever is ~211~~opposed to him in his path
through life. I will not disguise from you that, looking rationally
and calmly at the matter, I have but little hope of quitting the
field to-morrow alive. My antagonist, naturally a man of vindictive
disposition, is incensed against me beyond all power of forgiveness, and
his skill is fully equal to his malice: should I fall, I leave my father
to your care; be a son to him in the place of the one he will have lost.
This is not a light thing which I ask of you, Frank! I ask you to give
up your independence, your high hopes of gaining name and fortune by
the exercise of your own talents and industry, and to devote some of
the best years of your life to the weary task of complying with the
caprices, and bearing the sorrows, of a grief-stricken old man. Will you
do this for me, Frank?”
“I will,” replied I; “and may God help me, as I execute this trust
faithfully!”
“You have relieved my mind of half its burden,” returned Oaklands
warmly. “I have only one thing more to mention--When I came of age last
year my father's liberality made over to me an ample income for a single
man to live on: excepting a few legacies to old servants, I have divided
this between your good little sister and yourself, which I thought you
would prefer to my leaving it to you alone.”
“Harry I indeed, I cannot allow you to do this; others must surely have
claims upon you.”
“There is not a being in the world who has a right to expect a farthing
at my death,” answered he; “the next heir to the entailed estates is a
distant relation in Scotland, already wealthy. My father has always been
a careful man, and, should he lose me, will have a larger income than he
can possibly be able to spend; besides, as the duties I have led you
to undertake must necessarily prevent you from engaging actively in any
profession, I am bound in common fairness to provide for you.”
“Be it so, then,” replied I--inwardly breathing a prayer that I never
might possess a sixpence of the promised fortune.
“One thing more,” added Harry. “When you return to Trinity--poor old
Trinity, shall I ever visit you again!--find out how Lizzie Maurice is
going on, and if she should marry respectably in her own rank, ask my
father to give you a hundred pounds as a wedding present for her; only
hint that it was my wish, and he would give twenty times the sum. And
now good--pshaw!” he continued, drawing his hand across his eyes, “I
shall ~212~~play the woman if I talk to you much more--good-night,
Frank--do you accompany us to the ground to-morrow morning?”
“I will go with you,” returned I, with difficulty overcoming a choking
sensation in my throat; “I may be able to be of some use.”
“Here comes Archer,” said Oaklands, “so once more good-night; I must get
home, or my father will wonder what is become of me.”
My heart was too full to speak, and pressing his hand I turned abruptly
away, and walked quickly in the opposite direction.