Lawless, “for cats are horrid poaching varmints, and make awful havoc
among the young rabbits. Well, Fairlegh, have you made up your mind?”
“Yes,” replied I, “I am at your service for this morning; but
understand, I merely go as a spectator of your prowess.”
“As you like, man. I'll order the chestnuts--go and polish up a
little--and then for walking into Governor Coleman, and bowling out the
drysalter.”
The chestnuts whirled us over to Hillingford in less than an hour.
Lawless, delighted at being allowed to put his project into execution,
was in wild spirits, and kept me in fits of laughter the whole way, by
his quaint remarks on men and things.
“Is the governor visible, John?” was his address to the ~429~~ footman
who answered the door, and who, apparently not being favoured by Nature
with any superfluous acuteness of intellect or sweetness of disposition,
merely stared sulkily in reply.
“The fellow's a fool,” muttered Lawless, “and can't understand English.
Hark ye, sirrah,” he continued, “is your master at home?”
As the hero of the shoulder-knot vouchsafed an affirmative reply to
this somewhat more intelligible query, we alighted, and were straightway
ushered into the drawing-room, where we found Mr. and Mrs. Coleman,
and, as Lawless afterwards expressed it, “a party unknown,” who was
immediately, with much pomp and ceremony, introduced to us by the name
of Mr. Lowe Brown, an announcement which elicited from my companion
the whispered remark, “The drysalter himself, by jingo! this looks like
business, old fellow; there's no time to be lost, depend upon it”.
“Ah I Mr. Lawlegh,” exclaimed Mrs. Coleman, shaking hands cordially with
Lawless, “I thought we were never going to see you again, and I'm sure I
was quite delighted, though the servant kept you so long waiting at the
gate, till I got Mr. Brown to ring the bell; and Mr. Fairless too,
so kind of him, with those beautiful chestnut horses standing there
catching cold, in that very high gig, which must be so dangerous, if you
were to fall out, both of you.”
“No fear of that, ma'am,” replied Lawless; “Fairlegh and I have known
each other too long to think of falling out in a hurry--firm friends,
ma'am, as your son Freddy would say.”
“Poor Freddy,” returned Mrs. Coleman affectionately, “did he send any
message by you, to say when he is coming home again? We shall have some
good news for him, I hope--for he was always very fond of his cousin
Lucy.”
“Family affection is a fine thing, ma'am,” said Lawless, winking at me,
“and ought to be encouraged at any price, eh?”
“Very true, Mr. Lawlegh, very true; and I am glad to find you think
so, instead of living at those nasty clubs all day, turning out wild,
smoking cigars like a German student, and breaking your mother's heart
with a latchkey, at one o'clock in the morning, afterwards, when you
ought to have been in bed and asleep for the last three hours. Good-bye,
and God bless you.”
The six concluding words of Mrs. Coleman's not ~430~~ over-perspicuous
speech were addressed to Mr. Lowe Brown, who rose to take leave. This
gentleman (for such I presume one is bound to designate him, however
little appearance might warrant such an appellation) was a snort, stout,
not to say fat personage, with an unmeaning pink and white face, and a
smug self-satisfied manner and look, which involuntarily reminded one
of a sleek and well-conditioned tom-cat. Old Mr. Coleman rose also, and
shaking his hand with great _empressement_, left the room with him in
order to conduct him to the door with due honour.
“Look at the servile old rogue, worshipping that snob's two thousand
pounds per annum,” whispered Lawless; “we'll alter his tune before
long. Fascinating man, Mr. Brown, ma'am,” he continued, addressing Mrs.
Coleman.
“Yes, I'm glad you like him; he's a very good quiet young man, and
constantly reminds me of my poor dear aunt Martha, who is a peaceful
saint in Brixton churchyard, after this vale of tears, where we must all
go, only she hadn't two thousand pounds a year, though she was so lucky
at short whist, always turning up honours when she liked.”
“Trump of a partner she must have been, and no mistake!” said Lawless
enthusiastically. “I suppose she didn't leave the recipe behind her,
ma'am?”
“No, Mr. Fairless, no! at least I never heard she did, though I've got
a recipe of hers for cherry-brandy, which she was so fond of, and a very
good one it is, poor thing! But Mr. Brown, you see, with his fortune,
might look so much higher, that, as Mr. Coleman says, it's a chance she
may never have again, and it would be madness to throw it away, in her
circumstances too.”
“Did Mr. Brown think of marrying your aunt, then, ma'am?” asked Lawless
with an air of would-be innocence.
“No, my dear--I mean, Mr. Lawlegh, no--she died, and he went to Merchant
Tailor's School together, that is in the same year; we were making it
out last night--no, it's Lucy, poor dear, and a famous thing it is for
her, only I'm afraid she can't bear the sight of him.”
[Illustration: page430 Mammon Worship]
At this moment Mr. Coleman returned, and Lawless, giving me a sly
glance, accosted him with a face of the most perfect gravity, begging
the favour of a few minutes' private conversation with him, a request
which that gentleman, with a slight appearance of surprise, immediately
granted, and they left the room together.
During their absence, good Mrs. Coleman confided to ~431~~ me, with much
circumlocution, her own private opinion, that Lucy and Mr. Brown were by
no means suited to each other, “because, you see, Mr. Fairless, my dear,
Lucy's clever, and says sharp funny things that make one laugh, what
they call _piquante_, you know, and poor Mr. Brown, he's very quiet and
good-natured, but he's not used to that sort of thing; and she, what you
call, laughs at him”; ending with a confession that she thought Freddy
and Lucy were made for each other, and that she had always hoped some
day to see them married.
Dear, kind-hearted, puzzle-headed little woman! how I longed to comfort
her, by giving her a glimpse behind the scenes! but it would have
entailed certain ruin; she would have made confusion worse confounded of
the best laid scheme that Machiavelli ever concocted.
When Lawless and Mr. Coleman returned from their _tête-à-tête_, it was
easy to see, by the nattered but perplexed expression discernible in the
countenance of the elder, and a grin of mischievous delight in that of
the younger gentleman, that the stratagem had succeeded so far, and that
a cloud had already shaded the fair hopes of the unconscious Mr. Lowe
Brown.
“Ah--a--hem! my dear Mrs. Coleman,” began her spouse, his usually
pompous manner having gained an accession of dignity, which to those who
guessed the cause of it was irresistibly absurd.
“A-hem--as I am, I believe, right in supposing Mr. Fairlegh is
acquainted with the object of his friend's visit--”
“All right, sir!” put in Lawless; “go ahead.”
“And as I am particularly requested to inform you of the honour” (with
a marked stress on the word) “done to a member of my family, I conceive
that I am guilty of no breach of confidence in mentioning that Mr.
Lawless has proposed to me, in due form, for the hand of my niece, Lucy
Markham, offering to make most liberal settlements; indeed, considering
that the fortune Lucy is justified in expecting at her father's death
is very inconsiderable--an income of four hundred pounds a year divided
amongst thirteen children, deducting a jointure for the widow, should my
sister survive Mr. Markham--”
“Never mind the tin, Mr. Coleman,” interrupted Lawless, “you don't catch
me buying a mare for the sake of her trappings. In the first place,
second-hand harness is never worth fetching home; and in the next, let
me tell you, sir, it's your niece's good points I admire: small head
well set on--nice light neck--good slanting shoulder ~432~~ --pretty
fore-arm--clean about the pasterns--fast springy action--good-tempered,
a little playful, but no vice about her; and altogether as sweet a thing
as a man need wish to possess. Depend upon it, Mr. Coleman,” continued
Lawless, who, having fallen into his usual style of speech, was fairly
off, “depend upon it, you'd be very wrong to let her get into a dealer's
hands--you would indeed, sir; and if Mr. Brown isn't in that line it's
odd to me. I've seen him down at Tattersall's in very shady company, if
I'm not much mistaken; he's the cut of a leg, every inch of him.”
Want of breath fortunately obliging him to stop, Lawless's chief
auditors, who had gleaned about as much idea of his meaning as if he had
been haranguing them in Sanscrit, now interposed; Mrs. Coleman to invite
us to stay to luncheon, and her husband to beg that his niece Lucy might
be summoned to attend him in his study, as he should consider it his
duty to lay before her Mr. Lawless's very handsome and flattering
proposal.
“And suppose Lucy should take it into her head, by any chance, to say
Yes” (“Never thought of that, by Jove!--that would be a sell,” muttered
Lawless, aside),--“what's to become of poor dear Mr. Lowe Brown?”
inquired Mrs. Coleman anxiously.
“In such a case,” replied her lord and master, with a dignified wave
of the hand, pausing as he left the room, and speaking with great
solemnity,--“in such a case, Mr. Lowe Brown will perceive that it is his
duty, his direct and evident duty, to submit to his fate with the calm
and placid resignation becoming the son of so every way respectable and
eminent a man as his late lamented father, my friend, the drysalter.”
CHAPTER LIII -- A COMEDY OF ERRORS
“Content you, gentlemen,
I'll compound this strife.... He of both
That can assure _my nieces_ greatest dower,
Shall have her love.”
“I must confess your offer is the best,
And let your father make her the assurance,
She is your own.”
--_Taming of the Shrew_.
POOR pretty little Lucy Markham! what business had tears to come
and profane, with their tell-tale traces, that bright, merry face of
thine--fitting index to thy warm heart and sunny disposition! And yet,
in the quenched ~433~~ light of that dark eye, in the heavy swollen lid,
and in the paled roses of thy dimpled cheek, might be read the tokens of
a concealed grief, that, like “a worm i' the bud,” had already begun to
mar thy sparkling beauty. Heed it not, pretty Lucy--sorrow such as thine
is light and transient, and succour, albeit in a disguise thou canst not
penetrate, is even now at hand. As the young lady in question entered
the luncheon-room, returning Lawless's salutation with a most becoming
blush, the thought crossed my mind, that in his position I should be
almost tempted to regret I was destined to perform the lover's part “on
that occasion only”. Such, however, were not the ideas of my companion,
for he whispered to me, “I say, Frank, she looks uncommon friendly,
eh?--I don't know what to make of it, I can tell you; this is getting
serious”.
“You must endeavour by your manner to neutralise your many
fascinations,” replied I, striving to hide a smile, for he was evidently
in earnest.
“Neutralise my grandmother!” was the rejoinder; “I can't go and be rude
to the young woman. How d'ye do, miss?” he continued gruffly; “how d'ye
do? you see, we left Fred--” (here I nudged him, to warn him to avoid
that subject)--“that is, we left Heathfield,--I mean started early--Let
me help you, Mrs. Coleman;--precious tough customer that chicken seems
to be--elderly bird, ma'am, and no mistake--who'll have a wing?”
“Really, Mr. Lawless, you are very rude to my poor chicken; it's out of
our own farm-yard, I assure you; and the turkey-cock, his sister, that's
Lucy's mother, sent him here; she has thirteen children you know, poor
thing, and lives at Dorking; they are famous for all having five toes,
you know, and growing so very large, and this must be one of them, I
think.”
“They were Dorking fowls mamma sent you, aunt; you don't keep turkeys,”
interposed Lucy, as Lawless fairly burst out laughing--an example which
it was all I could do to avoid imitating.
“Yes, to be sure, my dear, I said so, didn't I? I remember very well
they came in a three-dozen hamper, poor things, and were put in the back
kitchen because it was too late to turn them out; and as soon as it was
light they began to crow, and to make that noise about laying eggs, you
know, so that I never got a wink of sleep after, thinking of your
poor mother, and all her troubles--thirteen of them, dear me! till
Mr. Coleman ~434~~ got up and turned them out, with a bad cold, in his
dressing-gown and slippers.”
“Freddy begged me to tell you that he would write to you tomorrow,”
observed I, aside to Lucy; adding the enigmatical message, that “he had
some good news to communicate, and that matters were not so bad as you
imagined.”
“Ah! but it doesn't--he can't know--Mr. Fairlegh,” she added, looking at
me with an earnest, inquiring glance; “you are his most intimate friend;
has he told you the cause of his annoyance?”
“Allow me to congratulate you, Mr. Fairlegh, on the very excellent match
your sister is about to make--the Oaklands family is one of the oldest
in the county,” said Mr. Coleman with an air of solemn politeness.
“Oh! yes, we are all so glad to hear of it, your sister is so pretty,
and we had been told there was some young scamp or other dangling after
her.”
“Um! eh? oh! that's rather too much, though,” said Lawless, turning very
red, and fidgeting on his chair; “pray may I ask, Mrs. Coleman,
whether it was a man you happened to hear that from? because he must
be--ar--funny--fellow--ar--worth knowing--ar--I should like to make his
acquaintance.”
“Why, really!--let me see--was it Jones the grocer, or Mrs. Muddles when
she brought home the clean linen? I think it was Jones, but I know it
came with the clean clothes, and they had heard it from some of the
servants,” returned Mrs. Coleman.
“I'll boil Shrimp alive when I get back,” muttered Lawless, “and have
him sent up in the fish-sauce.”
“Yes,” replied I to Lucy, as soon as the conversation again became
general, “Freddy gave me an outline of the cause of his disquietude; but
from a hint Lawless dropped in our way here to-day, Mr. Lowe Brown is
likely to have a somewhat powerful rival, is he not?”
“Oh! then you know all, Mr. Fairlegh,” she replied; “what am I to do? I
am so unhappy--so bewildered!”
“If you will allow me to advise you,” returned I, “you will not
positively refuse Lawless; on the contrary, I should encourage him so
far as to ensure the dismissal of Mr. Brown, at all events.”
“But would that be light? besides, I should be forced to marry Mr.
Lawless, it I once said Yes.”
“I should not exactly say Yes,” replied I, smiling at the naïve
simplicity of her answer; “I would tell my uncle that, as he was aware,
I had always disliked the ~435~~ attentions of Mr. Brown, and that I
begged he might be definitely informed that it would be useless for him
to attempt to prosecute his suit any farther. I would then add, that it
was impossible for me to agree to accept at once a man of whom I knew so
little as of Lawless, but that I had no objection to his visiting here,
with a view to becoming better acquainted with him. By this means you
will secure the positive advantage of getting rid of the drysalter,
as Freddy calls him, and you must leave the rest to time. Lawless is a
good-natured, generous-spirited fellow, and if he were made aware of the
true state of the case, I do not think he would wish to interfere with
Freddy's happiness, or annoy you by addresses which he must feel were
unacceptable to you.”
“But what will Freddy say if I appear to encourage Mr. Lawless? you
don't know how particular he is.”
“If you will permit me, I will tell him exactly what has passed between
us to-day, and explain to him your reasons for what you are about to
do.”
“Will you really be so kind?” she answered, with a grateful smile; “then
I shall do exactly as you have told me. How shall I ever thank you for
your kindness?”
“By making my friend Freddy a good wife, and being married on the same
day that I am.”
“That you are! are you joking?”
“Never was more serious in my life, I can assure you.”
“Are you really going to be married? Oh! I am so glad! Is the lady a
nice person? do I know her?”
“The most charming person in the world,” replied I, “and you know her
intimately.”
“Why, you can't mean Cla----”
“Hush!” exclaimed I, as a sudden silence rendered our conversation no
longer private.
“Lucy, my dear, may I request your company for a few minutes in my
study?” said Mr. Coleman, holding the door open with an air of dignified
courtesy for his niece to pass out. She had acquired double importance
in his eyes, since the eldest son of a real live peer of the realm had
declared himself her suitor.
“Allow me, governor--ar--Mr. Coleman, I mean,” said Lawless, springing
forward, “it's for us young fellows to hold doors open, you know--not
old reprobates like you,” he added in an undertone, making a grimace
for my especial benefit at the retreating figure of the aforesaid
irreverently apostrophised legal luminary.
“Ah!” said Mrs. Coleman, by whom this by-play had been unobserved, “I
wish all young men were like you, ~436~~ Mr. Lawless: we see very little
respect to grey hairs nowadays.”
“Very little indeed, ma'am,” returned Lawless, winking furiously at me;
“but from a boy I've always been that way inclined: I dare say that you
observed that I addressed Mr. Coleman as 'Governor' just now?”
“Oh yes, I think I did,” replied Mrs. Coleman innocently.
“Well, ma'am, that's a habit I've fallen into from unconsciously giving
utterance to my feelings of veneration. To govern, is a venerable
attribute--governor signifies one who governs--hence my inadvertent
application of the term to your revered husband, eh?”
“Ah!” returned poor Mrs. Coleman, thoroughly mystified, “it's very
kind of you to say so, I'm sure. I wonder whether I left my knitting
upstairs, or whether it went down in the luncheon-tray.”
In order to solve this important problem, the good lady trotted off,
leaving Lawless and myself _tête-à-tête_.
“I say, Frank,” he began, as the door closed after her, “did you put
the young woman up to trap at all? I saw you were 'discoursing' her, as
Paddy says, while we were at luncheon, eh?”
“No,” replied I, “it was agreed that she was not to be let into the
scheme, you know.”
“By Jove! then all those kind looks she threw at me were really in
earnest! I tell you what, I don't half like it, I can assure you, sir! I
shall put my foot in it here too, if I don't mind what I'm at. Suppose,
instead of marrying Freddy, she were to take it into her head she would
like to be a peeress some day, what would become of me, eh?”
At this moment Mr. Coleman returned, his face beaming with dignity and
self-satisfaction. Approaching Lawless, he motioned him to a chair, and
then, seating himself exactly opposite, gave one or two deep hems to
clear his throat, and then began:--
“I am empowered by my niece, standing as I may say _in loco
parentis_--(for though her parents are not positively defunct, still
they have so completely delegated to me all control and authority
over their daughter, that they may morally be considered dead)--I am
empowered, then, by my niece to inform you, in answer to your very
flattering proposal of marriage, that although she has not had
sufficient opportunity of becoming acquainted with your character and
general disposition, to justify her in at once ratifying the contract,
she agrees to sanction your visits ~437~~ here in the character of her
suitor.” (Lawless's face on receiving this announcement was as good as a
play to behold.) “In fact, my dear sir,” continued Mr. Coleman, warming
with the subject, “as my niece at the same time has signified to me her
express desire that I should definitely and finally reject the suit of a
highly amiable young man of fortune, who has for some time past paid his
addresses to her, I think that we may consider ourselves fully justified
in attributing the slightly equivocal nature of her answer to a
pardonable girlish modesty and coyness, and that I shall not be
premature in offering you my hearty congratulations on the successful
issue of your suit--a-hem I--” And so saying, Mr. Coleman rose from his
seat, and taking Lawless's unwilling hand in his own, shook it with the
greatest _empressement_.
“Thank ye, gov--that is, Mr. Coleman--uncle, I suppose I shall soon have
to call you,” said Lawless, with a wretched attempt at hilarity; “it's
very flattering, you know, and of course I feel excessively, eh 1
uncommon, don't you see?--Get me away, can't you?” he added in an angry
whisper, turning to me, “I shall go mad, or be ill, or something in a
minute.”
“I think the tandem has been here some time,” interposed I, coming to
his assistance; “the horses will get chilled standing.”
“Eh! yes! very true, we must be cutting away; make ourselves scarce,
don't you see?” rejoined Lawless, brightening up at the prospect of
escape.
“Let me ring for the ladies,” said Mr. Coleman, moving towards the bell.
“Eh! not for the world, my dear sir, not for the world,” exclaimed
Lawless, interposing to prevent him--“Really, my feelings--your
feelings, in fact, all our feelings, have been sufficiently
excited--steam got up--high pressure, eh?--some other day--pleasure.
Good-morning. Don't come out, pray.”
And so saying, he fairly bolted out of the room, an example which I was
about to follow, when Mr. Coleman, seizing me by the button began:--
“I can see, Mr. Fairlegh, that Mr. Lawless is naturally uneasy and
annoyed at Mr. Brown's attentions: but he need not be--pray assure him
of this--Mr. Brown is a highly estimable young man, but his family
are very much beneath ours in point of rank. I shall write to him
this afternoon, and inform him that, on mature deliberation, I find it
impossible to allow my niece to contract a matrimonial alliance with
any one in trade--that will ~438~~ set the matter definitely at rest.
Perhaps you will kindly mention this to your friend?”
“I shall be most happy to do so,” replied I, “nor have I the slightest
doubt that _my friend_ will consider the information perfectly
satisfactory.” And with many assurances of mutual consideration and
esteem we parted.
Oh! the masks and dominoes of the mind! what mountebank ever wore so
many disguises as the heart of man? If some potent spirit of evil had
suddenly converted Elm Lodge into the palace of Truth, the light of its
master's countenance would have grown dark as he read the thoughts
that were passing in my breast; and instead of bestowing upon me
the attentions due to the chosen friend of the wealthy suitor to his
portionless niece, he would have done his best to kick me down the steps
as an impostor plotting to marry his son to a beggar. When will men
learn to value money at its real worth, and find out that warm loving
hearts and true affections are priceless gems that wealth cannot
purchase!
We drove for some time in silence, which was at length broken by
Lawless, who in a tone of the deepest dejection began:--
“The first tolerably deep gravel pit we come to, I must trouble you to
get out, if you please”.
“Get out at a gravel pit! for goodness' sake, why?” inquired I.
“Because I intend to back the tandem into it, and break my neck,” was
the unexpected answer.
“Break your neck! nonsense, man. Why, what's the matter now? Hasn't your
mad scheme succeeded beyond all expectation?”
“Ah! you may well say that!” was the rejoinder. “Beyond all expectation,
indeed! yes, I should think so, rather. If I'd expected anything of
the kind, it's thirty miles off I'd have been at the very least by this
time--more, if the horses would have done it, which I think they would
with steady driving, good luck, and a feed of beans.”
“Why, what is it you fancy you've done, then?”
“Fancy I've done, eh? Well, if that isn't enough to make a fellow punch
his own father's head with vexation. What have I done, indeed! why I'll
tell you what I've done, Mr. Frank Fairlegh, since you are so obtuse as
not to have found it out by your own powers of observation. I've won the
heart of an innocent and unsuspecting young female,--I've destroyed the
dearest hopes of my particular friend,--and I've saddled myself with
a ~439~~ superfluous wife, when my affections are reposing in the
cold--ar--what do you call it, tomb, eh? of the future Lady Oaklands--If
that isn't a pretty fair morning's work, it's a pity, eh?”
“My dear Lawless,” replied I, with difficulty repressing a laugh, “you
don't really suppose Lucy Markham means to accept you?”
“Eh! why not? Of course I do, didn't Governor Coleman tell me so? an old
reptile!”
“Set your mind at ease,” replied I; and I then detailed to him my
conversation with Lucy Markham, and convinced him that her partial
acceptance of his proposal, which had been made the most of by Mr.
Coleman, was merely done at my suggestion, to ensure the dismissal of
Mr. Lowe Brown. As I concluded, he broke forth:--
“Ah! I see, sold again! It's an easy thing to make a fool of me where
women are concerned; they're a kind of cattle I never shall understand,
if I were to live as long as Saint Methuselah, and take Old Parr's life
pills twice a day into the bargain. Anything about a horse, now--”
“Then you'll postpone the gravel-pit performance _ad infinitum_?”
interrupted I.
“Eh? yes! it would be a pity to go and sacrifice the new tandem, if it
is not absolutely necessary to one's peace of mind, so I shall think
better of it this time,” was the rejoinder.
“By the way,” resumed Lawless, as we drove through Heathfield Park,
“I must not forget that I've got to immolate Shrimp on the altar of my
aspersed reputation--call his master a 'scamp,' the amphibious little
reprobate? a brat that's neither fish, flesh, nor fowl, nor good
red-herring--that spent his pitiful existence in making mud pies in a
gutter, till I was kind enough to--”
“Run over him, and break his arm,” added I.
“Exactly,” continued Lawless, “and a famous thing it was for him too.
Just see the advantages to which it has led; look at the education I
have given him; he can ride to hounds better than many grooms twice his
age, and bring you a second horse, in a long run, just at the nick of
time when you want it, as fresh, with that featherweight on its back, as
if it had only just come out of the stable; he can drive any animal
that don't pull too strong for him, as well as I can myself; he can
brew milk-punch better than a College Don, and drink it like an
undergraduate; he can use his fists as handily as--Ben Caunt, or the
Master of T----y, and polish off a boy a head taller than himself in ten
minutes, so that his nearest ~440~~ relations would not recognise him;
and he won five pounds last year in a Derby sweepstakes, besides taking
the long odds with a pork-butcher, and walking into the piggycide to the
tune of thirty shillings. No,” continued Lawless, who had quite worked
himself into a state of excitement, “whatever follies I may have been
guilty of, nobody can accuse me of having neglected my duty in regard to
that brat's education; and now, after all my solicitude, the young viper
goes and spreads reports that a 'scamp,' meaning me, is about to marry
your sister! I'll flay him alive, and put him in salt afterwards!”
“But, my dear Lawless, out of the host of servants at Heathfield, how do
you know it was Shrimp who did it?”
“Oh, there's no mischief going on that he's not at the bottom of;
besides, a boy is never the worse for a flogging, for if he has not done
anything wrong beforehand, he's sure to make up for it afterwards; so it
comes right in the end, you see.”
Thus saying, he roused the leader by a scientific application of the
thong, dashed round the gravel-sweep, and brought his horses up to the
hall-door in a neat and artistlike manner.
CHAPTER LIV -- MR. VERNOR MEETS HIS MATCH
“If thou dost find him tractable to us,
Encourage him, and tell him all our reasons.
If he be leaden, icy cold, unwilling,
Be thou so too.”
--_Richard III_.
“For the intent and purpose of the law,
Hath full relation to the penalty,
Which here appeareth due.”
“Tarry a little, there is something else.”
--_Merchant of Venice_.
“Your looks are pale and wild,
and do import some misadventure.”
--_Romeo and Juliet_.
ANY tender-hearted reader who may feel anxious concerning the fate of
the unjustly suspected Shrimp, will be glad to learn that this hopeful
candidate for the treadmill (not to mention a more airy and exalted
destiny), escaped his promised castigation, for, the moment we alighted,
Freddy Coleman dragged us into the library, and Lawless, in the
excitement of relating the morning's adventure, entirely forgot his
threatened vengeance. Lawless's account of the affair was, as may well
be imagined, ~441~~ rich in the extreme, worth walking barefoot twenty
miles to hear, Freddy Coleman declared afterwards; and an equally
laborious pilgrimage would have been quite repaid by witnessing the
contortions of delight with which the aforesaid Freddy listened to him.
“So you have positively settled the drysalter, and stand pledged to
marry my cousin Lucy, if she approve of you on further acquaintance?
What will you give me to hand her over to you?”
“Give you, eh? the soundest thrashing you ever had in your life--one
that will find you something to think about for the next fortnight,
and no mistake. The idea of putting the young woman's affections up to
auction! why, you're worse than your old governor, he only wants to sell
her to the highest bidder.”
“Well, he's been sold himself this time, pretty handsomely,” replied
Freddy; “I only hope it will be a lesson to him for the future.”
“It strikes me he'd be all the better for a few more lessons of the
sort, eh? go through a regular 'educational course,' as they call it.
Governors nowadays get so dreadfully conceited and dictatorial--they
know best--and they will have this--and they won't have that. It's no
joke to be a son, I can tell you.--'Latchkey, sir! only let me hear of
your daring to introduce that profligate modern invention into my house,
and I'll cut you off with a shilling.'”
“'The most unkindest cut of all,'” quoted Freddy. “Worse than 'cut
behind' for the small boys, who indulge their locomotive propensities
by sitting on the spikes at the backs of carriages, eh?” said Lawless.
“Sharp set they must be, very!” put in Freddy. “Well, of all the vile
puns I ever heard, that, which I believe to be an old Joe Miller, is the
worst,” exclaimed I. “Not to subject myself any longer to such wretched
attempts, I shall go and dress for dinner.”
“By way of obtaining _re-dress_! Well, I hope we shall be _better
suited_ when we meet again,” rejoined Freddy, fairly punning me out of
the room.
Mr. Frampton returned from town late that evening, but in high health
and spirits, having been closeted for some hours with his legal adviser,
who had given him clear instructions as to the course he was to pursue
to obtain possession of his niece on the following day.
When I retired to my room that night, I was too much excited to sleep,
but it was excitement of a pleasurable nature. I lay picturing to myself
the next day's scene-- ~442~~ the surprise and anger of Mr. Vernor--the
impotent fury of Cumberland's disappointed avarice--the grotesque joy of
old Peter Barnett--and, above all, the unspeakable delight of rescuing
my sweet Clara from a home so unfitted to her gentle nature, and
removing her to an atmosphere of kindness and affection; and with such
pleasant thoughts wandering through my brain, towards morning I fell
into a sound sleep. The sun was shining brightly when I again unclosed
my eyes, and, hastily dressing, I hurried down to the breakfast-room,
where I found Mr. Frampton already engaged in discussing a very
substantial meal.
“Umph! I didn't expect you would have turned lie-abed this morning,
of all the days in the year, Master Frank,” was his salutation on my
entrance.
“I really am ashamed of myself,” replied I, sitting down to the
breakfast-table; “but my thoughts were so busy, and my mind so filled
with anticipations of coming happiness, that I did not contrive to get
to sleep till quite morning.”
“Umph! serve you right--you never should anticipate anything; depend
upon it, it's the surest way to prevent what you wish for coming to
pass. When I was in the Mahratta country, I anticipated I was going to
marry the Begum of Tincumrupee--splendid woman! kept forty-two elephants
for her own special riding, and wore a necklace of pearls as big
as hazel nuts. What was the consequence? Instead of fulfilling my
expectations, one fine morning she changed her mind, took up with a
tawny, and ordered me to be strangled, only I got timely notice of her
benevolent intentions, and lost no time in putting myself under the
protection of my old crony, Blessimaboo, the Rajah of Coddleafellah.
Umph!”
“Let me give you another cup of coffee, since the lady with the
unpronounceable name did not succeed in her amiable design of destroying
your swallowing powers for ever,” returned I.
“Umph! I won't say No--there's nothing like serving out good rations
to your men before they go into action; I've seen campaigning enough to
know that.”
“On the strength of which argument I shall cut you another slice of
ham,” rejoined I, suiting the action to the word. At length even Mr.
Frampton's excellent appetite appeared exhausted, and he declared
himself ready to face old Vernor if he should prove as cantankerous as
a rhinoceros in hysterics; after which statement we proposed to start on
our expedition. During his visit to ~443~~ town on the previous day, Mr.
Frampton had purchased a very handsome light travelling carriage, which,
with post-horses, was now in waiting to convey us to Barstone. On
our way thither, my companion informed me of the particulars of his
interview with his legal adviser, and the powers with which he was
invested, and which were to be brought to bear upon Mr. Vernor, if, as
was to be expected, he should attempt to resist the claim. As the effect
of the information thus acquired will appear in the course of this
veritable history, I need say no more concerning the matter at present.
We then proceeded to lay down the plan of operations, which embraced an
innocent little stratagem for more effectually taking “the change”
out of Mr. Vernor, as Lawless would have termed it. It was agreed,
in pursuance of this scheme, that I should open the conversation, by
informing Clara's guardian that, owing to an unexpected change in my
fortunes, I was now in possession of means amply sufficient to maintain
a wife, and had therefore come to renew my suit for the hand of his
fair ward, merely introducing Mr. Frampton as a friend of mine, who was
prepared to furnish proof of the truth of my statement, if Mr. Vernor
were not satisfied with my bare assertion. According to the way in which
he should behave when this communication was made to him, were we
to regulate our after conduct. I now learned for the first time that
Frampton was not my benefactor's real name, but one which he had adopted
when he commenced his wanderings, and which he determined to retain on
learning, as he imagined he had done indisputably, that his family was
extinct. This accounted for the otherwise strange fact, that Mr. Vernor
should have remained in ignorance, up to the present period, of the
existence of his ward's uncle. Lady Saville's maiden name, as I had been
previously told, was Elliot, and my companion's real title, therefore,
was Ralph Elliot. So occupied were we in discussing these interesting
topics, that we had reached the gates of Bar-stone Park before our
conversation began to flag; but the sight of the old quaintly built
lodge, realising, as it did, the object of our visit, raised a host of
varying thoughts and feelings too powerful for utterance; and, by mutual
consent, we finished our drive in silence.
A servant, whose face was unknown to me, answered the door; and replying
in the affirmative to my inquiry whether Mr. Vernor was at home led the
way to the library.
“What name shall I say, sir?”
~444~~ “Merely say, two gentlemen wish to see Mr. Vernor upon business,”
was my reply; and in another moment I was once again face to face with
Clara's guardian. He looked older and thinner than when I had seen him
before, and care and anxiety had left their traces even on his iron
frame: he was less erect than formerly, and I observed that, when his
eyes fell upon me, his lip quivered, and his hand shook with suppressed
irritation. Still his face wore the same cold, immovable, relentless
expression as ever; and when he spoke, it was with his usual sarcastic
bitterness.
“I cannot imagine under what possible pretext Mr. Fairlegh can expect
to be regarded in this house in any other light than as an unwelcome
intruder, after his late outrageous conduct,” was the speech with which
he received me.
“If you refer, sir, to the well-merited chastisement I inflicted on your
nephew, I can only say, that Mr. Cumberland alike provoked the quarrel
and commenced the attack; if you have received a true account of the
matter, you must be aware it was not until your nephew had struck me
more than once with his cane that I returned the blow.”
“Well, sir, we will not discuss the affair any farther, as I presume it
was scarcely for the purpose of justifying yourself that you have come
hither to-day.”
“You are right, sir,” returned I; “and not to prolong a conversation
which appears disagreeable to you, I will proceed at once to the purport
of my visit. You have not, I imagine, forgotten the occasion of my
former intrusion, as you termed it?”
“No, sir,” he replied angrily, “I have not forgotten the presumptuous
hopes you entertained, nor the cool effrontery with which you, a needy
man--not to use any stronger term--preferred your suit for the hand and
_fortune_” he added, laying a strong emphasis upon the last word, “of my
ward, Miss Saville.”
“That suit, sir, I am now about to renew,” replied I, “but no longer
as the needy fortune-hunter you were pleased to designate me. My friend
here is prepared to show you documents to prove, if you require it, that
I am, at this moment, in possession of an income amply sufficient to
support a wife, and that, should my proposal find favour with your ward,
I am in a position to offer her an establishment embracing not only the
comforts but the refinements of life, and am prepared to make as liberal
settlements as can reasonably be required of me: ~445~~ her own fortune
I wish to have placed entirely under her own control.”
As I spoke his brow grew dark as night, and rising from his chair, he
exclaimed, “I'll not believe it, sir! This is some new trick--I know
your scheming talents of old; but, however,” he continued, seeing, no
doubt, from my manner, that I was in a position to prove the truth of my
assertions, “rich or poor, it makes no difference in my decision; I have
but one answer to give--I have other prospects in view, other intentions
in regard to the disposal of my ward's hand, and, once for all, I
finally and unhesitatingly reject your offer.”
“I believe, sir,” replied I, restraining by an appealing glance Mr.
Frampton, whose zeal in my cause was becoming almost ungovernable, and
who was evidently burning to be at him, as he afterwards expressed it--
“I believe, sir, I am right in imagining Miss Saville is of age, in
which case I must insist upon your laying my proposal before her, and on
receiving her decision from her own lips.”
“She is of age, sir, but her late father, knowing how liable girls are,
from their warm feelings, and ignorance of the ways of the world, to
become the prey of designing persons, wisely inserted a clause in his
will, by which it is provided, that in case of her marrying without my
consent, her fortune shall pass into my hands, to be disposed of as I
may consider advisable. I need scarcely add, that in the event of her
marrying Mr. Fairlegh, she will do so without a farthing.”
“Umph! eh? perhaps not, sir--perhaps not; you seem to me to look upon
this matter in a false light, Mr. Vernor--Umph! a very false light; and
not to treat my young friend with the degree of courtesy which he and
every other honourable man has a right to expect from any one calling
himself a gentleman. Umph! Umph!”
“Really I cannot be expected to discuss the matter farther,” replied Mr.
Vernor, with greater irritation of manner than he had yet suffered to
appear. “I have not formed my opinion of Mr. Fairlegh hastily, nor on
insufficient grounds, and it is not very probable that I shall alter it
on the representations of a nameless individual, brought here for the
evident purpose of chorusing Mr. Fairlegh's assertions, and assisting
to browbeat those who may be so unfortunate as to differ from him. You
must find such a friend invaluable, I should imagine,” he added, turning
towards me with a supercilious smile. “Umph! nameless individual,
sir--nameless ~446~~ individual, indeed! Do you know who you are talking
to?” Then came the aside, “Of course he does not, how should be? Umph!”
“I think you must by this time see the folly of attempting to prolong
this absurd scene, Mr. Fairlegh,” said Mr. Vernor, addressing me,
without noticing Mr. Frampton's observation otherwise than by a
contemptuous glance; “I presume we have come to the last act of this
revival of the old comedy, 'A Bold Stroke for a Wife,' and I think you
are pretty well aware of my opinion of the performance.”
“Umph! eh?--I fancy you'll find there's another act before the play is
ended yet, sir,” returned Mr. Prampton, who was now thoroughly roused;
“an act that, with all your cunning, you are not prepared for, and that
even your unparalleled effrontery will be insufficient to carry you
through unmoved. You say, sir, that by the will of the late Sir Henry
Saville, his daughter's inheritance descends to you in the event of her
marrying without your consent. May I ask whether there is not a certain
contingency provided for, which might divert the property into another
channel? Umph!”
“Really, sir, it is long since I looked at the will,” exclaimed Mr.
Vernor, for the first time dropping his usual tone of contemptuous
indifference, and speaking quickly and with excitement--“May I inquire
to what you refer?”
“Was there not a clause to this effect, sir?” continued Mr. Frampton
sternly; and, producing a slip of paper, he read as follows:--
“'But whereas it was the firm belief and conviction of the aforesaid
Clara Rose Elliot, afterwards Lady Saville, my late lamented wife, that
her brother Ralph Elliot, supposed to have perished at sea, had not
so perished, but was living in one of our colonies, I hereby will and
direct, that in the event of the said Ralph Elliot returning to England,
and clearly proving and establishing his identity, three hundred pounds
per annum shall be allowed him out of my funded property, for his
maintenance during the term of his natural life; and I further will and
direct, that in the event of my daughter, Clara Saville, by disobedience
to the commands of her guardian, Richard Vernor, forfeiting her
inheritance as, by way of penalty, I have above directed, then I
devise and bequeath the before mentioned funded property, together with
Barstone Priory and the lands and rents appertaining thereunto, to the
aforesaid Ralph Elliot, for his absolute use and behoof '.”
~447~~
As he listened to the reading of this portion of the will, Mr. Vernor's
usually immovable features assumed an expression of uneasiness which
increased into an appearance of vague and undefined alarm; and when Mr.
Frampton concluded, he exclaimed hurriedly, “Well, sir, what of that?
The man has been drowned these forty years.”
“Umph! I rather think not,” was the reply, “I don't look much like a
drowned man, do I? Umph!”
So saying, he strode up to Mr. Vernor, and, regarding him with a stern
expression of countenance, added: “You were pleased in your insolence,
just now, to term me a 'nameless individual'; these papers,” he
continued, producing a bundle, “will prove to you that Ralph Elliot was
not drowned at sea, as you imagine, but that the nameless individual
whom in my person you have treated with unmerited insult, is none other
than he”.
“It is false!” exclaimed Mr. Vernor, turning pale with rage. “This is
all a vile plot, got up in order to extort my consent to this marriage.
But I'll expose you--I'll--”
At this moment the library door was thrown violently open, and old Peter
Barnett, his face bleeding and discoloured, as if from fighting, and his
clothes torn and muddy, rushed into the centre of the apartment.
CHAPTER LV -- THE PURSUIT
“Let not search and inquisition fail to bring
again those... runaways.”
--_As You Like It_.
“Fetch me that handkerchief,
My mind misgives.”
--_Othello_.
“Sharp goads the spur, and heavy falls the stroke,
Rattle the wheels, the reeking horses smoke.”
--_The Elopement_.
ON the sudden appearance of old Peter in the deplorable condition
described in the last chapter, we all sprang to our feet, eager to learn
the cause of what we beheld. We were not long kept in suspense, for
as soon as he could recover breath enough to speak, he turned to Mr.
Vernor, saying, in a voice hoarse with sorrow and indignation:--“If
you knows anything of this here wickedness, as I half suspects you do,
servant as I am, I tells you to your face, you're a willain, and I could
find in my heart to ~448~~ serve you as your precious nephew (as you
calls him) and his hired bullies have served me”.
“How dare you use such language to me?” was the angry reply. “You have
been drinking, sirrah; leave the room instantly.”
“Tell me, Peter,” exclaimed I, unable longer to restrain myself, “what
has happened? Your mistress--Clara--is she safe?”
“That's more than I knows,” was the reply; “if she is now, she won't
be soon, without we moves pretty sharp; for she's in precious unsafe
company. While we was a-looking after one thief, we've been robbed
by t'other: we was watching Muster Wilford, and that young scoundrel
Cumberland has cut in and bolted with Miss Clara!”
“Distraction!” exclaimed I, nearly maddened by the intelligence; “which
road have they taken? how long have they been gone?”
“Not ten minutes,” was the reply; “for as soon as ever they had knocked
me down, they forced her into the carriage, and was off like lightning;
and I jumped up, and ran here as hard as legs would carry me.”
“Then they may yet be overtaken,” cried I, seizing my hat; “but are you
sure Wilford has nothing to do with it?”
“Quite certain,” was the answer; “for I met him a-going a-shooting as I
cum in, and he stopped me to know what was the matter: and when I told
him, he seemed quite flustered like, and swore he'd make Cumberland
repent it.”
“Mad, infatuated boy!” exclaimed Mr. Vernor; “bent on his own ruin.”
And burying his face in his hands, he sank into a chair, apparently
insensible to everything that was passing.
“Now, Peter,” I continued, “every moment is of importance; tell me which
road to take, and then get me the best horse in the stable, without a
moment's delay. I will bear you harmless.”
“I've thought of all that, sir,” rejoined Peter Barnett. “It's no use
your going alone; there's three of them besides the postboys. No! you
must take me with you; and they've knocked me about so, that I don't
think I could sit a horse, leastways not to go along as we must go, if
we means to catch 'em. No! I've ordered fresh horses to your carriage,
it's lighter than the one they have got, and that will tell in a long
chase; you _must_ take me to show you the way, Muster Fairlegh.”
“Well, come along, then. Mr. Frampton, I'll bring you your niece in
safety, or this is the last time we shall meet, for I never will return
without her.”
~449~~ “Umph! eh? I'll go with you, Frank; I'll go with you.”
“I would advise you not, sir,” replied I; “it will be a fatiguing, if
not _a dangerous_ expedition.”
“Ain't I her uncle, sir? umph!” was the reply. “I tell you I will go.
Danger, indeed! why, boy, I've travelled more miles in my life, than you
have inches.”
“As you please, sir,” replied I; “only let us lose no time.” And taking
his arm I hurried him away.
Glancing at Mr. Vernor as we left the library, I perceived that he still
remained motionless in the same attitude. As we reached the hall-door, I
was glad to find that Peter's exertions had procured four stout horses,
and that the finishing stroke was being put to their harness as we came
up.
“Who is that?” inquired I, as my eye caught the figure of a horseman,
followed by a second, apparently a groom, riding rapidly across the
park.
“That's Mr. Fleming, sir,” replied one of the helpers; “he came down to
the stable, and ordered out his saddle-horses in a great hurry; I think
he's gone after Mr. Cumberland.”
“What are we waiting for?” exclaimed I, in an agony of impatience.
“Peter!--Where's Peter Barnett?”
“Here, sir,” he exclaimed; making his appearance the moment after I had
first observed his absence. “It ain't no use to start on a march without
arms and baggage,” he added, flinging a wrapping greatcoat (out of the
pocket of which the butts of a large pair of cavalry pistols protruded)
into the rumble, and climbing up after it.
“Now, sir,” exclaimed I; and half-lifting, half-pushing Mr. Frampton
into the carriage, I bounded in after him: the door was slammed to, and,
with a sudden jerk, which must have tried the strength of the traces
pretty thoroughly, the horses dashed forward, old Peter directing the
postboys which road they were to follow. The rocking motion of the
carriage (as, owing to the rapid pace at which we proceeded, it swung
violently from side to side) prevented anything like conversation,
while, for some time, a burning desire to get on seemed to paralyse
my every faculty, and to render thought impossible. Trees, fields and
hedges flew past in one interminable, bewildering, ever-moving panorama,
while to my excited imagination we appeared to be standing still,
although the horses had never slackened their speed from the moment we
started, occasionally breaking into a gallop wherever the road would
permit. After proceeding at this rate, as nearly as ~~450~ I could
reckon, about ten miles, old Peter's voice was heard shouting to the
postboys, and we came to a sudden stop. “What is it?” inquired I
eagerly; but Peter, without vouchsafing any answer, swung himself down
from his seat, and ran a short distance up a narrow lane which turned
off from the high road, stopped to pick up something, examined the
ground narrowly, and then returned to the carriage, holding up in
triumph the object he had found, which, as he came nearer, I recognised
to be a silk handkerchief I had seen Clara wear.
“I didn't think my old eyes could have seen so quickly,” was his
observation as he approached; “we was almost over-running the scent,
Muster Fairlegh; and then we should 'a been ruined--horse, fut, and
artillery. Do you know what this is?”
“Clara's handkerchief! It was round her neck when I met her two days
ago.”
“Ay! bless her!” was the old man's reply. “And she's been clever enough
to drop it where they turned off here, to let us know which way they
have taken her. Lucky none of 'em didn't see her a-doin' it.”
“How fortunate you observed it! And now where does this lane lead to?”
“Well, that's what puzzles me,” returned Peter, rubbing his nose with an
air of perplexity. “It don't lead to anything except old Joe Hardman's
mill. But they're gone down here, that's certain sure, for there was
that handkerchief, and there's the mark of wheels and 'osses' feet.”
“Well, if it is certain they have gone that way,” continued I, “let us
lose no time in following them. How far off is this mill?”
“About a couple of miles out of the road, sir,” replied one of the
postboys.
“Get on then,” said I; “but mind you do not lose the track of their
wheels. It's plain enough on the gravel of the lane.”
“All right, sir,” was the reply; and we again dashed forward.
As we got farther from the high road, the ruts became so deep that we
were obliged to proceed at a more moderate pace. After skirting a
thick wood for some distance, we came suddenly upon a small bleak
desolate-looking common, near the centre of which stood the mill, which
appeared in a somewhat dilapidated condition. A little half-ruinous
cottage, probably the habitation of the miller, lay to the right of the
larger building; but no signs of ~~451~ Carriage or horses were to be
perceived, nor, indeed, anything which might indicate that the place was
inhabited.
As we drew up at the gate of a farmyard, which formed the approach both
to the mill and the house, Peter Barnett again got down, and having
carefully examined the traces of the wheel-marks, observed, “they've
been here, that I'll take my Bible oath on. The wheel-tracks go straight
into the yard. But there's some fresh marks here I can't rightly make
out. It looks as if a horse had galloped up to the gate and leaped hover
it.”
“Wilford!” exclaimed I, as a sudden idea came into my head. “We have
not got to the truth of this matter yet, depend upon it. There is some
collusion between Wilford and Cumberland.”
“Umph! rascals!” ejaculated Mr. Frampton. “But 'they shall both hang for
it, if it costs me every farthing I possess in the world.”
“It's Mr Fleming's black mare as has been hover 'ere,” said one of the
postboys, who, I afterwards learned, was a stable-helper at Barstone,
and had volunteered to drive in the sudden emergency. “I knows her marks
from any hother 'orse's. She's got a bar-shoe on the near fore-foot.”
“Is there nobody here to direct us?” asked I. “Let me out. Who is this
miller, Peter?” I continued, as I sprang to the ground.
“Well, he's a queer one,” was the reply. “Nobody rightly knows what to
make of him. He's no great good, I expects; but good or bad, we'll have
him out.”
So saying, he opened the gate, and going to the cottage-door, which was
closed and fastened, commenced a vigorous assault upon it. For some time
his exertions appeared productive of no result, and I began to imagine
the cottage was untenanted.
“We are only wasting our time to no purpose,” said I. “Let us endeavour
to trace the wheel-marks, and continue our pursuit.”
“I'm certain sure there's some one in the house,” rejoined old Peter,
after applying his ear to the keyhole; “I can hear 'em moving about.”
“We'll soon see,” replied I, looking round for some implement fitted for
my purpose. In one corner lay a heap of wood, apparently part of an old
paling. Selecting a stout post which had formed one of the uprights,
I dashed it against the fastenings of the door with a degree of force
which made lock and hinges rattle again. I was about to repeat the
attack, when a gruff voice from within the house shouted, “Hold hard
there, I'm a-coming,” and ~452~~ in another minute the bolts were
withdrawn, and the door opened.
“What do you mean by destroying a man's property in this manner?” was
the salutation with which we were accosted.
The speaker was a short thick-set man, with brawny arms, and a head
unnaturally large, embellished by a profusion of red hair, and a beard
of at least a week's growth. The expression of his face, surly in the
extreme, would have been decidedly bad, had it not been for a look of
kindness in the eye, which in some degree redeemed it!
“What do you mean by allowing people to stand knocking at your door for
five minutes, my friend, without taking any notice of them? You obliged
us to use summary measures,” replied I.
“Well, I wor a-laying on the bed when you cum. I slipped down with a
sack of flour this morning, and hit my head, so I thought I'd turn in
and take a snooze, do you see;” and as he spoke he pointed to his face,
one side of which I now perceived was black and swollen, as if from a
blow.
“That's a lie, Joe! and you knows it,” said Peter Barnett abruptly.
“You speaks pretty plainly at all events, Master Barnett,” was the
reply, but in a less surly tone than he had hitherto used.
The man was clearly an original; and it was equally evident that Peter
knew how to deal with him, and that I did not. I therefore called the
former on one side, and desired him, if bribing was of any use, to offer
the miller fifty pounds, if through his information we were enabled
to overtake the fugitives. Upon this a conversation ensued between the
pair, which appeared as if it would never come to a termination; but
just as my patience was exhausted, and I was about to break in upon
them, Peter informed me that if I would engage to pay Hard-man fifty
pounds, and to protect him from Wilford's anger, he would tell me
everything he knew, and put me on the right track. To this I agreed, and
he proceeded to give me the following account:--
In the course of the previous day, a vagabond of his acquaintance, who
called himself a rat-catcher, but was a professional poacher and an
amateur pugilist, came to him, and told him that a gentleman who had
a little job in hand wanted the use of the cottage, as it was a nice
out-of-the-way place, and that, if he would agree, the gent would
call and give him his instructions. He inquired ~453~~ of what the job
consisted; and on being told that a girl was going to run away from home
with her sweetheart--that being, as he observed, merely an event in the
course of nature--he agreed. In the evening he was visited by Wilford,
and a man who was addressed as Captain. They directed him to have a room
in the cottage ready by the next morning for the reception of a lady;
and at the same time a sealed paper was handed to him, which he was
directed to lock up in some safe place, and in the event of the lady
and her maid-servant being given into his custody unharmed, he was to
deliver up the paper to a gentleman who should produce a signet ring
then shown him. This being successfully accomplished, he and his friend
the poacher were alike to prevent the lady's escape, and protect her
against all intrusion, till such time as Wilford should arrive to claim
her; for which services the worthy pair were to receive conjointly the
sum of twenty pounds.
In pursuance of these instructions, he had locked up the paper, and
prepared for locking up the lady. About half an hour before we made
our appearance, a carriage had arrived with four smoking posters; it
contained two females inside; the Captain and a gentleman (whom the
miller recognised as Mr. Cumberland of Barstone Priory) were seated in
the rumble, while his friend the poacher was located on a portmanteau in
front.
Cumberland and his companion alighted, and the former immediately asked
for the paper, producing the ring, and saying that the plan had been
changed, and that the lady was to go on another stage. Joe Hardman,
however, was not, as he expressed it, “to be done so easy,” and
positively refused to give up the paper till the lady was consigned to
his custody. A whispered consultation took place between Cumberland and
the Captain, the carriage door was opened, and the lady and her maid
requested to alight. Joe then ushered them into the room prepared for
them, the windows of which had been effectually secured, locked them in,
and leaving the poacher on guard, hastened to get the paper, which, on
receiving the ring, he delivered up to Cumberland. No sooner, however,
had Cumberland secured the document than he made a signal to the
Captain; they both threw themselves upon Hardman, and endeavoured to
overpower him. He resisted vigorously, shouting loudly to the poacher
for assistance, an appeal to which that treacherous ally responded by
bestowing upon him a blow which stretched him on his back, and damaged
his ~454~~ physiognomy in the manner already described. Having put him
_hors de combat_, they took the key from him, released the lady, forced
her and her maid to re-enter the carriage, and drove off, leaving him to
explain her absence as best he might.
They had not been gone more than ten minutes when Wilford and his groom
rode up at speed, and on learning the trick which had been played
upon him swore a fearful oath to be avenged on Cumberland, and after
ascertaining which direction they had taken, followed eagerly in
pursuit.
He added, that his chief inducement for making this confession, was his
conviction that something dreadful would occur unless timely measures
were taken to prevent it. He declared Cumberland's manner to have been
that of a man driven to desperation; and he had noticed that he had
pistols with him. Wilford's ungovernable fury, on being informed how he
had been deceived, was described by Hardman as enough to make a man's
blood run cold to witness. Having, in addition, ascertained the route
they had taken, and the means by which we should be likely to trace
them, we returned to the carriage,--my heart heavy with the most dire
forebodings,--and inciting the drivers, by promises of liberal payment,
to use their utmost speed, we once again started in pursuit.
CHAPTER LVI -- RETRIBUTION
“Fell retribution, like a sleuth-hound, still
The footsteps of the wicked sternly tracks,
And in his mad career o'ertaking him,
Brings, when he least expects it, swift destruction,
And with a bitter, mocking justice, marks
Each sin that did most easily beset him.
The eye that spared not woman in its lust,
Glaring with maniac terror, sinks in death.
The homicidal hand, whose fiendish skill
Made man its victim, crushed and bleeding lies.
The crafty tongue, a ready instrument
Of that most subtle wickedness, his brain,
Babbles in fatuous imbecility.”
--_Holofernes, a Mystery_.
“We meet to part no more.”
--_Amatory Sentiment_.
AFTER proceeding about a mile, at a pace which consorted ill with the
fever of impatience that tormented me, we came once again upon the high
road; and having got clear of ruts and mud-holes, were enabled to resume
~455~~ our speed. Half-an-hour's gallop advanced us above six miles
on our route, and brought us to the little town of M--. Here we were
compelled to stop to change our smoking horses, and had the satisfaction
of learning that a carriage, answering to old Peter's description of the
one we were in pursuit of, had changed horses there about twenty minutes
before our arrival, and that a gentleman and his groom had since been
observed to ride at speed through the town, and to follow the course
taken by the carriage without drawing bridle. Whilst making these
inquiries, four stout posters had been attached to our vehicle, and we
again dashed forward. Another half-hour of maddening suspense followed,
although the postboys, stimulated by the promise of reward, exerted
themselves to the utmost, till the carriage swung from side to side
with a degree of violence which rendered an overturn by no means an
improbable contingency. No signs of the fugitives were to be discerned,
and I was beginning to speculate on the possibility of their having
again attempted to deceive us by turning off from the high road, when an
exclamation from Peter Barnett (who, from his exalted station, was able
to command a more extended view than ourselves) attracted my attention.
We were at the moment descending a hill, which from its steepness
obliged the postilions to proceed at a more moderate pace. Thrusting my
head and shoulders out of one of the front windows, and raising myself
by my hands, I contrived to obtain a view of the scene which had called
forth Peter's ejaculation. Rather beyond the foot of the hill, where
the ground again began to ascend, a group of persons, apparently farming
labourers, were gathered round some object by the wayside, while almost
in the centre of the road lay a large dark mass, which, as I came
nearer, I perceived to be the dead carcase of a horse; another horse,
snorting with terror at the sight of its fallen companion, was with
difficulty prevented from breaking away by a groom, who, from his dark
and well-appointed livery, I immediately recognised as a servant of
Wilford's.
With a sensation of horror, such as I do not remember ever before to
have experienced, I shouted to the postboys to stop, and, springing out,
hastened to join the crowd collected by the roadside. They made way for
me as I approached, thereby enabling me to perceive the object of their
solicitude. Stretched at full length upon the grass, and perfectly
motionless, lay the form of Wilford; his usually pale features wore the
livid hue of death, and his ~456~~ long black hair was soaked and matted
with blood, which trickled slowly from a fearful contused wound towards
the back of the head. His right shoulder, which was crushed out of all
shape, appeared a confused mass of mud and gore, while his right--_his
pistol arm_--lay bent in an unnatural direction, which showed that it
was broken in more places than one. He was perfectly insensible, but
that he was still alive was proved, as well by his hard and painful
breathing, as by a low moan of agony to which he occasionally gave
utterance. “How has this happened?” inquired I, turning away with a
thrill of horror.
“Well, as I make out, the mare crushed him when she fell upon him;
but he knows best, for he saw it all,” replied one of the countrymen,
pointing to the groom, who now came forward.
On questioning the servant, I learned that Wilford, before he went out
shooting that morning, had ordered his saddle-horses to be ready for
him at a certain hour, adding, that the black mare, of which mention
has been so often before made in this history, was to be saddled for his
own riding. Immediately after Peter Barnett had returned with the news
of Miss Saville's abduction, Wilford had called for his horses in great
haste, told the servant to follow him, and ridden off at speed, through
fields and along by-lanes, till he arrived at Hardman's mill. There he
was made acquainted (as I knew from the miller's confession) with the
deception which had been practised upon him, and, muttering imprecations
against Cumberland, he started in pursuit, riding at such a pace that
the groom, although well mounted, had the greatest difficulty in keeping
up with him. At length they caught sight of a carriage with four horses
descending the steep hill already mentioned, and proceeding at a rate
which proved that time was a more important consideration than safety
to those it contained. Regardless of the dangerous nature of the ground,
Wilford continued his headlong course, and overtook the fugitives
just at the bottom of the hill. Riding furiously up to the side of
the vehicle, he shouted to the drivers to stop, in a voice hoarse with
passion. Intimidated by his furious gestures, and uncertain whether to
obey or not, the postboys, in their irresolution, slackened their speed,
when Cumberland, urged apparently to desperation, leaned out of the
window with a cocked pistol in his hand, ordered the drivers to
proceed, and turning to Wilford, desired him to give up the pursuit,
or (levelling the pistol at him as he spoke) he would blow his brains
~457~~ out. Wilford, taking no notice of the threat, again shouted to
the postilions to stop, and was about to ride forward to compel their
obedience, when Cumberland, after hesitating for a moment, suddenly
changed the direction of the pistol, and aiming at the horse instead of
the rider, fired.
[Illustration: page457 The Retribution]
Simultaneously with the report, the mare plunged madly forward, reared
up till she stood almost erect, pawed the air wildly with her fore-feet,
and then dropped heavily backwards, bearing her rider with her, and
crushing him as she fell. The ball had entered behind the ear, and
passing in an oblique direction through the brain, had produced instant
death. Without waiting to ascertain the effect of his shot, Cumberland
again compelled the postboys to proceed, and by the time the groom
reached the scene of action the carriage was rapidly getting out of
sight. The servant being unable to extricate his master from the fallen
horse, was about to ride off for assistance, when some labourers,
attracted by the report of the pistol, had come up, and by their united
efforts had succeeded in freeing the sufferer, but only, as it seemed,
to die from the serious nature of the injuries he had sustained.
“Umph! eh!--the man's a dead man, or next door to it,” exclaimed
Mr. Frampton, who had joined me while the groom was giving the above
recital. “Nevertheless, we must do what we can for him, scoundrel as he
is. How's a doctor to be obtained. Umph?”
“Where does the nearest surgeon live?” asked I.
“There ain't none nearer than M----” was the reply, naming the town
through which we had passed.
“I must leave you to settle this matter,” continued I; “too much time
has already been lost for me to attempt to overtake Cumberland with
the carriage; I must follow them on horseback. Take off the leaders and
shift the saddle on to the led horse; he seems the freshest.”
“Umph! go and get shot, like the wretched man here,” put in Mr.
Frampton. “You shan't do it, Frank.”
“With his fate before me, I will be careful, sir,” replied I; “but think
of Clara in the power of that villain! Your niece must be rescued at all
hazards; still, even for her sake, I will be cautious.--Is that horse
ready?”
“If you please, sir,” said one of the postilions, a quick, intelligent
lad, who, while we were speaking, had removed the saddle from the dead
mare to the back of the off leader, “if you will take me with you, I
can show you how to stop them.” He then explained, that about five miles
farther on there was a turnpike at the top of a long hill, which a heavy
carriage must ascend slowly, and that ~458~~ he knew a short cut across
some fields, by means of which, if we made the best of our way, we might
reach the turnpike in time to close the gate before those of whom
we were in pursuit should arrive. This plan appeared so sensible and
comparatively easy of execution, that even Mr. Frampton could offer no
objection to it, and, mounting our horses, we again resumed the chase.
And now, for the first time since I had heard of Clara's abduction, did
I at all recover my self-command, or venture to hope the affair would be
brought to a favourable issue. But the change from inaction to vigorous
exertion, and the refreshing sensation of the cool air as it whistled
round my throbbing temples, tended to restore the elasticity of my
spirits, and I felt equal to any emergency that might arise. After
following the high road for about a mile, we turned down a lane on the
right, and leaving this when we had proceeded about half a mile farther,
we entered a large grass field, which we dashed over in gallant style,
and making our way across sundry other fields, and over, through, and
into (for the post-horses, though not by any means despicable cattle in
their degree, were scarcely calculated for such a sudden burst across
country as that to which we were treating them) the respective hedges
and ditches by which they were divided, we regained the high road, after
a rattling twenty minutes' gallop. The point at which we emerged was
just at the top of a very steep hill, up which the road wound in a
serpentine direction.
“Are we before them, do you think?” inquired I of my companion, as we
reined in our panting steeds.
“I'm sure as we must be, sir, by the pace we've come. I didn't think
the old 'osses had it in 'em; but you does ride slap hup, sir, and no
mistake--pity as you ain't on the road, your honour.”
“If I pass behind those larch trees,” asked I, smiling at the postboy's
compliment, “I can see down the hill without being seen, can I not?”
His reply being in the affirmative, I advanced to the spot I had
indicated, and, to my delight, perceived a carriage and four making
its way up the hill with as great rapidity as the nature of the ground
rendered possible. Turning my horse's head, I rejoined my companion, and
we rode on to the turnpike.
Half a dozen words served to convey my wishes to the turnpike-man,
as many shillings rendered him my firm friend, and half the number of
minutes sufficed to close and effectually bolt and bar the gate.
~459~~ The postboy having by my orders tied up the horses to a rail on
the other side of the gate, we all three entered the turnpike-house,
where, with breathless impatience, I awaited the arrival of the
carriage. In less time than even I had imagined possible, the sound of
horses' feet, combined with the rattle of wheels, and the shouting of
the drivers, when they perceived the gate was shut, gave notice of their
approach.
“Wait,” exclaimed I, laying my hand on the boy's arm to restrain his
impetuosity, “wait till they pull up, and then follow me, both of
you; but do not interfere unless you see me attacked, and likely to be
overpowered.”
As I spoke, the horses were cheeked so suddenly as to throw them
on their haunches, and, amidst a volley of oaths at the supposed
inattention of the turnpike-man, one of the party (in whose coarse
bloated features and corpulent figure I at once recognised my
_ci-devant_ acquaintance of the billiard-room, Captain Spicer) jumped
down to open the gate. This was the moment I had waited for, and
bounding forward, followed by my satellites, I sprang to the side of the
carriage. A cry of joy from Clara announced that I was recognised,
and with an eager hand she endeavoured to let down the glass, but was
prevented by Cumberland, who was seated on the side nearest the spot
where-! was standing. In an instant my resolution was taken: wrenching
open the carriage door, and flinging down the steps, I sprang upon him,
and seizing him by the coat-collar before he had time to draw a pistol,
I dragged him out head foremost, an I, giving way to an ungovernable
impulse of rage, shook him till I could hear all the teeth rattle in
his head, and threw him from me with such violence that he staggered and
fell. In another moment Clara was in my arms.
[Illustration: page459 The Rescue]
“Clara, dearest! my own love!” whispered I, as, shedding tears of joy,
she rested her head upon my shoulder, “what happiness to have saved
you!”
There are moments when feeling renders us eloquent, when the full heart
pours forth its riches in eager and impassioned words; but there are
other times, and this was one of them, when language is powerless to
express the deep emotion of the soul, and our only refuge is in silence.
Clara was the first to speak.
“Frank--tell me--what has become of Mr. Fleming--the pistol-shot--that
maddened plunging horse--I am sure something dreadful has happened.”
“He is indeed severely injured by the fall,” replied I, wishing the
truth to break upon her by degrees; “but ~460~ I was unable to remain to
learn a surgeon's opinion--and this reminds me that I have still a duty
to perform; Cumberland must be detained to answer for his share in this
transaction;” and leading Clara to a bench outside the turnpike-house, I
proceeded to put my intentions into practice.
But whilst I had been thus engrossed, affairs had assumed a somewhat
different aspect. The turnpike-man was actively engaged in a pugilistic
contest with Captain Spicer, who, on his attempting to lay hands on
him, had shown fight, and was punishing his adversary pretty severely.
Cumberland's quick eye had perceived the horses the moment he had
regained his feet, and when he saw that I was fully occupied, he had
determined to seize the opportunity for effecting his escape. Springing
over the gate, he untied one of the horses, and striking down the boy
who attempted to prevent him, rode away at a gallop, at the moment I
reappeared upon the scene; while the second horse, after struggling
violently to free itself, had snapped the bridle and dashed off in
pursuit of its retreating companion. This being the case, it was useless
to attempt to follow him; and not altogether sorry that circumstances
had rendered it impossible for me to be his captor, I turned to assist
my ally, the turnpike-man, who, to use the language of the “Chicken,”
immortalised by Dickens, appeared in the act of being “gone into and
finished” by the redoubtable Captain Spicer. Not wishing to have my
facial development disfigured by the addition of a black eye, however, I
watched my opportunity, and springing aside to avoid the blow with which
he greeted me, succeeded in inserting my fingers within the folds of
his neckcloth, after which I had little difficulty in choking him into
a state of incapacity, when he submitted to the indignity of having his
hands tied behind him, and was induced to resume his seat in the rumble
as a prisoner, till such time as I should learn Mr. Framp-ton's opinion
as to the fittest manner of disposing of him. I then replaced Clara
in the carriage, which by my orders had turned round, rewarded the
turnpike-man, as well as the boy to whose forethought and able guidance
I was mainly indebted for my success, and taking my seat beside my
prisoner, we started on our return.
One naturally feels a certain degree of awkwardness in attempting to
make conversation to a man, whom only five minutes before one has nearly
succeeded in strangling, however thoroughly the discipline may have been
deserved--and yet silence is worse; at least I found it so; and ~461~~
after clearing my throat once or twice, as if I had been the person
half-throttled rather than the throttler, I began:--
“It is some years since we have met, Captain Spicer”.
The individual thus addressed turned round quickly as I spoke, and
favoured me with a scrutinising glance--it was evident he did not
recognise me.
“Have you forgotten the billiard-room in F---- Street, and the way
in which your pupil and associate, Mr. Cumberland, cheated my friend
Oaklands?”
The captain, on having this somewhat unpleasant reminiscence of bygone
hours forced upon him, turned--I was going to say pale, but that was an
impossibility--rather less red than usual ere he replied:--
“I beg pardon, Mr. Fairlegh, but I'd quite forgotten you, sir; 'pon my
conscience I had. Ah, that was a foolish piece of business, sir; but Mr.
Cumberland, he always was a bad un.”
“The man who encouraged and assisted him, not to mention working on his
fears and godding him to desperation, is scarcely the person to blame
him,” replied I sternly.
“Ah! you don't know all, sir; he was a precious sight worse than you're
awake to yet, Mr. Fairlegh. I could tell you things that would surprise
you; and if I thought that you would save yourself the trouble of taking
me any farther than M----, which is, I believe, the nearest place
where I can pick up a coach to London, I don't know that I should mind
explaining matters a bit. What do you say, sir? you are lawyer enough
to know that you can't do anything to me for this morning's work, I dare
say.”
“I am not so certain of that,” replied I; “abduction and manslaughter
are legal offences, I believe.”
“I had nothing to do with the last job,” was the reply; “I could not
have prevented Cumberland shooting the mare if my own brother had been
riding her.”
This I believed to be true, and I was far from certain that, although
morally guilty, Captain Spicer had committed any offence for which he
could be punished by law; moreover, as he had been a good deal knocked
about in his conflict with the turnpike-man, and I had more than
half-strangled him with my own hands, I felt leniently disposed towards
him. I therefore replied:--
“Tell me, truly and honestly, supposing you can for once contrive to
do so, all you know about this business; and if, as I imagine, you have
only been the tool of others ~462~~ in the affair, it is possible my
friend, Mr. Frampton, may be induced to let you off “.
Upon this hint, the captain having prevailed upon me to remove his
extempore handcuffs, and passed his word not to attempt escape,
proceeded to give me the following particulars:--
About a year or so before he had acted in some mysterious capacity at a
gambling-house, of which Cumberland was part proprietor, and which
was one of Wilford's favourite resorts. The debts which, as a boy,
Cumberland had begun to contract, had increased till he became deeply
involved; and after availing himself of every kind of subterfuge
to postpone the evil day, was on the point of being arrested by his
principal creditor, a money-lender, to whom he owed seven hundred and
fifty pounds. Shortly before the day on which he had promised to meet
the demand, Spicer, getting a cheque cashed at a banker's in the city,
was present when an agent of Wilford's paid in to his account two
thousand pounds, which circumstance he mentioned to Cumberland. That
evening Cumberland induced Wilford to play picquet; they played high,
but fortune varied, and at the end of the game Cumberland rose a winner
of eighty pounds, for which Wilford wrote him a cheque. On examining his
banker's book shortly afterwards, Wilford discovered that a cheque for
eight hundred pounds had been presented and duly honoured, which proved,
on minute inspection, to be the cheque written for Cumberland, and of
course a forgery. For reasons of his own, one of which no doubt was to
obtain absolute power over Cumberland, Wilford refused to prosecute.
When, some months after this transaction, Spicer was summoned to assist
in carrying off Clara, Cumberland sought him out, told him that he had a
scheme to frustrate Wilford and gain possession of Clara, and proved to
him that he had by some means obtained five thousand pounds in specie,
of which he offered him one thousand pounds if he would assist him, his
object being to escape to America, and live there upon Clara's fortune.
Captain Spicer, tempted by the magnitude of the sum mentioned, aware
that his character was too well known in London to render that city a
desirable place of residence, and having a strong idea that he could
turn his talents to account among the Yankees, stipulated that, in
addition to the sum proposed, Cumberland should pay his passage out, and
agreed to the plan. The further details of the plot have been already
partially explained. Aware of Wilford's predilection for keeping up
appearances, and ~463~~ conducting his intrigues with so much cunning
as in many instances to divert suspicion into some other channel,
Cumberland sought him out, and telling him that he had observed his
passion for Clara, professed that her money was his only object, spoke
of his desire to reside in America, and wound up by offering, if Wilford
would give up the forged paper, and agree to allow him a certain sum
quarterly out of Clara's fortune, to run off with her, and hand her over
to him. To this Wilford, relying on Spicer, and determining to retain
the forged cheque as a guarantee for Cumberland's fidelity until Clara
was placed in the hands of Hardman, agreed. With the results of this
arrangement the reader is already acquainted.
As my disreputable companion came to the end of his recital we drove up
to the door of the principal inn of the little town of M----.
CHAPTER THE LAST -- WOO'D AND MARRIED AND A'
“''Tis a strange compact, still I see no better,
So by your leave we'll sit and write this letter.”
_Ye Merrie Bacheloure_.
“The ancient saying is no heresy,
Hanging and wiving goes by destiny.”
_Merchant of Venice_.
THE heart of the wandering Swiss bounds within him at the sound of the
“_Ranz des Vaches_,”--dear to the German exile are the soul-stirring
melodies of his fatherland; but never did the ear of German or of Swiss
drink in with greater delight the music that his spirit loved than did
mine the transport of grunting by which Mr. Frampton welcomed his niece,
the daughter of his childhood's friend, his fondly remembered sister.
“Umph! eh! so you've let that rascal Cumberland slip through your
fingers, Master Frank? Umph! stupid boy, stupid. I wanted to have him
hanged.”
“I am afraid, sir, the law would scarcely have sanctioned such a
proceeding.”
“Umph! why not, why not? He richly deserved it, the scoundrel--daring
to run off with my niece. Dear child! she's as like her poor-umph--umph!
the Elliots were always reckoned a handsome race. What are you laughing
at, you conceited puppy? It's my belief that ~464~~ when I was your
age I was a great deal better looking fellow than you are. Some
people admire a snub nose; there was the Begum of Cuddleakee, splendid
woman--Well, what do you want, sir, eh?”
The last words were addressed to Captain Spicer, to whom (as since our
late truce he had become all amiability) I had entrusted the commission
of ascertaining Wilford's state, and who now appeared at the door, and
beckoned me out of the room.
“I shall be with you again immediately,” said I, rising; and, replying
to Clara's anxious glance by a smile and a pressure of the hand, I
hastened to obey the summons.
“Wilford is in a sad state, Mr. Fairlegh,” he began, as I closed the
door behind me; “dreadful, 'pon my life, sir; but here's the surgeon,
you'd better speak to him yourself.”
In a little ante-room adjoining the chamber to which Wilford had been
conveyed, I found the surgeon, who seemed an intelligent and gentlemanly
person. He informed me that his patient had not many hours to live;
the wound in the head was not mortal, but the spine had received severe
injuries, and his lower extremities were already paralysed; he inquired
whether I was acquainted with any of his relations; adding, that they
ought to be sent for without a minute's delay.
“Really I am not,” replied I; “I never was at all intimate with him; but
I have heard, that even with those whom he admitted to his friendship,
he was strangely reserved on such subjects.”
“Better question the servant,” suggested the surgeon; “the patient
himself is quite incapable of giving us any information; the concussion
has affected the brain, and he is now delirious.”
The only information to be gained by this means was, that the servant
believed his master had no relations in England; he had heard that he
had been brought up in Italy, and therefore imagined that his family
resided there; he was able, however, to tell the name of his man of
business in London, and a messenger was immediately despatched to summon
him. Having done this, at the surgeon's request I accompanied him to the
chamber of the sufferer.
As we entered, Wilford was lying in bed supported by pillows, with his
eyes half shut, apparently in a state of stupor; but the sound of our
footsteps aroused him, and opening his eyes, he raised his head and
stared wildly ~465~~ about him. His appearance, as he did so, was
ghastly in the extreme. His beautiful black hair had been shorn away
at the temples to permit his wound to be dressed, and his head was
enveloped in bandages, stained in many places with blood; his face was
pale as death, save a bright hectic spot in the centre of each cheek,
fatal evidence of the inward fever which was consuming him. His
classical features, already pinched and shrunken, their paleness
enhanced by contrast with his black whiskers, were fixed and rigid
as those of a corpse; while his eyes, which burned with an unnatural
brilliancy, glared on us with an expression of mingled hate and terror.
He seemed partially to recognise me, for, after watching me for a
moment, his lips working convulsively, as if striving to form articulate
sounds, he exclaimed in a low hoarse voice:--
“Ha! on the scent already! The staid sober lover--let him take care the
pretty Clara does not jilt him. _I_ know where she is?--not I--that's a
question you must demand of Mr. Cumberland, sir. I beg your pardon,
did you say you doubted my word?--I have the honour to wish you
good-morning--my friend will call upon you. What! Lizzy Maurice! who
dares to say I wronged her?--'tis false. Take that old man away, with
his grey hair--why does he torment me?--I tell you the girl's safe,
thanks to--to--my head's confused--the 'long man,' as Curtis calls him,
Harry Oaklands, handsome Harry Oak-lands. What did I hear you
mutter? that he horsewhipped me?--and if he did, there was a day of
retribution--ha! ha!--Sir, I shot him for it; shot him like a dog--I
hated him, and he perished--the strong man died--died! and what
then?--what becomes of dead men? A long-faced fool said I was dying,
just now--he thought I didn't hear him--I not hear an insult! and I
consider that one--I'll have him out for it--I'll”--and he endeavoured
to raise himself, but was scarcely able to lift his head from the
pillow, and sank back with a groan of anguish. After a moment he spoke
again, in a low, plaintive voice, “I am very ill, very weak--send for
her--she will come--oh yes, she will come, for she loves me; she knows
my fiery nature--knows my vices, as men call them, and yet she loves
me--the only one who ever did--send for her--she will come, it is her
son who wishes for her”. Then, in a tone of the fondest endearment he
continued, “_Lucia, bella madre, il tuo figlio tia chiama_”.
“He has been speaking Italian for some time,” observed the surgeon in a
whisper.
~466~~ “That man Spicer told me he thought he was of Italian
extraction,” replied I.
Low as were our voices, the quick ear of the sufferer caught the name I
had mentioned.
“Spicer,” he exclaimed eagerly; “has he returned? Well, man, speak! is
she safely lodged? Cumberland has done his part admirably then. Oh!
it was a grand scheme!--Ha! played me false--I'll not believe it--he
_dares_ not--he knows me--knows I should dog him like his shadow till
we met face to face, and I had torn his false heart out of his dastardly
breast. I say he dares not do it!” and yelling out a fearful oath, he
fell back in a fainting fit.
Let us draw a veil over the remainder of the scene. The death-bed of the
wicked is a horrible lesson, stamped indelibly on the memory of all
who have witnessed it. Happy are they whose pure hearts need not such
fearful training; and far be it from me to dim the brightness of their
guileless spirits by acquainting them with its harrowing details.
Shortly after the scene I have described, internal hemorrhage commenced;
ere another hour had elapsed the struggle was over, and a crushed and
lifeless corpse, watched by hirelings, wept over by none, was all that
remained on earth of the man whom society courted while it feared,
and bowed to while it despised--the successful libertine, the dreaded
duellist, Wilford! I learned some time afterwards that his father had
been an English nobleman, his mother an Italian lady of good family.
Their marriage had been private, and performed only according to the
rites of the Romish Church, although the earl was a Protestant. Availing
himself of this omission, on his return to England he pretended to
doubt the validity of the contract, and having the proofs in his own
possession, contrived to set the marriage aside, and wedded a lady of
rank in this country. Lucia Savelli, the victim of his perfidy, remained
in Italy, devoting herself to the education of her son, whom she
destined for the Romish priesthood. Her plans were, however, frustrated
by the information that the earl had died suddenly, leaving a large
fortune to the boy, on condition that he never attempted to urge his
claim to the title, and finished his education in England. With his
subsequent career the reader is sufficiently acquainted. On hearing
of her son's melancholy fate, Lucia Savelli, to whom the whole of his
fortune was bequeathed, retired to a convent, which she endowed with her
wealth.
~467~~ As Barstone was out of our way from M----to Heath-field, and
as Clara was too much overcome by all she had gone through to bear
any further agitation, we determined to proceed at once to my mother's
cottage, and despatched Peter Barnett to inform Mr. Vernor of the events
of the day, and communicate to him Mr. Frampton's resolution to leave
him in undisturbed possession of Barstone, for a period sufficiently
long to enable him to wind up all his affairs and seek another
residence.
The return to Heathfield Cottage I shall not attempt to describe.
Clara's tears, smiles and blushes--Fanny's tender and affectionate
solicitude--my mother's delighted, but somewhat fussy, hospitality--and
my own sensations, which were an agreeable compound of those of every
one else--each and all were perfect in their respective ways. But the
_crème de la crème_, the essence of the whole affair, that on which the
tongue of the poet and the pen of the romance-writer must alike rejoice
to expatiate, was the conduct of Mr. Frampton; how he was seized, at
one and the same moment, with two separate, irresistible, and apparently
incompatible manias, one for kissing everybody, and the other
for lifting and transporting (under the idea that he was thereby
facilitating the family arrangements) bulky and inappropriate articles
which no one required, all of which he deposited, with an air composed
of equal parts of cheerful alacrity and indomitable perseverance, in
the drawing-room, grunting the whole time as man never grunted before;
a wild and unlooked-for course of proceeding which reduced my mother
to the borders of insanity. Finding that argument was not of the least
avail in checking his rash career, I seized him by the arm, just as he
was about to establish on my sister's work-table a large carpet-bag and
an umbrella, which had accompanied him through the adventures of the
day, and, dragging him off to his own room, forced him to begin to
prepare for dinner, while I turned a deaf ear to his remonstrance, that
“It was quite absurd to--umph! umph!--prevent him from making himself
useful, when there was so much to be done in the house. Umph!” Having
promulgated this opinion, he shook me by the hand till my arm ached,
and, declaring that he was the happiest old man in the world, sat down
and cried like a child.
Worn out by the fatigues and anxieties of the day, we gladly followed
my mother's suggestion of going to bed in good time, although I did not
retire for the night till I had seen Harry Oaklands, and given him an
account of ~468~~ our adventures. Wilford's fate affected him strongly,
and, shading his brow with his hand, he sat for some moments wrapped in
meditation. At length he said, in a deep low tone, “These things force
thought upon one, Frank. How nearly was this man's fate my own! How
nearly was I being hurried into eternity with a weight of passions
unrestrained, of sins unrepented of, clinging to my guilty soul! God has
been very merciful to me.” He paused; then, pressing my hand warmly,
he added, “And now, good-night, Frank; to-morrow I shall be more fit to
rejoice with you in your prospects of coming happiness; to-night I would
fain be alone--you understand me”. My only reply was by wringing his
hand in return, and we parted.
Reader, such thoughts as these working in a mind like that of Harry
Oaklands, could not be without their effect; and when in after
years, having by constant and unceasing watchfulness conquered his
constitutional indolence, his voice has been raised in the senate of
his country to defend the rights and privileges of our pure and holy
faith--when men's hearts, spell-bound by his eloquence, have been turned
from evil to follow after the thing that is good, memory has brought
before me that conversation in the library at Heathfield; and, as I
reflected on the effect produced on the character of Oaklands by the
fearful death of the homicide Wilford, I have acknowledged that the ways
of Providence are indeed inscrutable.
I was roused from a deep sleep at an uncomfortably early hour on the
following morning, by a sound much resembling a “view halloo,” coupled
with my own name, shouted in the hearty tones of Lawless; and, flinging
open the window, I perceived that indefatigable young gentleman employed
in performing some incomprehensible manouvres with two sticks and a
large flint stone, occasionally varying his diversion by renewing the
rough music which had broken my slumbers.
“Why, Lawless, what do you mean by rousing me at this unreasonable hour?
it's not six o'clock yet. And what in the world are you doing with those
sticks?”
“Unreasonable, eh? well, that's rather good, now! Just tell me which is
the most unreasonable, to lie snoring in bed like a fat pig or a fatter
alderman, such a beautiful morning as this is, or to be out and enjoying
it--eh?”
“You have reason on your side, so far, I must confess.”
“Eh? yes, and so I always have, to be sure. What am I doing with the
sticks, did you say? can't you see?”
~469~~ “I can see you are fixing one in the ground, taking extreme pains
to balance the stone on the top of it, and instantly endeavouring
to knock it off again with the other; in which endeavour you appear
generally to fail.”
“Fail, eh? It strikes me that you are not half awake yet, or else your
eyesight is getting out of condition. Six times running, except twice,
when the wind or something got in the way, did I knock that blessed
stone off, while I was trying to wake you. Epsom's coming round
soon, don't you see, so I'm just getting my hand in for a slap at the
snuff-boxes. But jump into your togs as fast as you can, and come out,
for I've got such a lark to tell you.”
A few minutes sufficed to enable me to follow Lawless's recommendation,
and long before he had attained the proficiency he desired in his
“snuff-box practice,” I had joined him.
“There!” he exclaimed, as he made a most spiteful shot at the stone,
“that's safe to do the business. By Jove, it has done it too, and no
mistake,” he continued, as the stick, glancing against the branch of
a tree, turned aside, and ruining a very promising bed of hyacinths,
finally alighted on a bell-glass placed over some pet flower of Fanny's,
both of which it utterly destroyed.
“Pleasant that, eh?--ah, well, we must lay it to the cats--though if the
cats in this part of the country are not unusually robust and vicious,
there's not a chance of our being believed.”
“Never mind,” remarked I, “better luck next time. But now that you have
succeeded in dragging me out of bed, what is it that you want with me?”
“Want with you, eh?” returned Lawless, mimicking the half-drowsy,
half-cross tone in which I had spoken; “you're a nice young man to talk
to, I don't think. Never be grumpy, man, when I've got the most glorious
bit of fun in the world to tell you, too. I had my adventures yesterday
as well as you. Who do you think called upon me after you set out?
You'll never guess, so I may as well tell you at once; it was--but you
shall hear how it happened. I was just pulling my boots on to try
a young bay thoroughbred, that Reynolds thinks might make a
steeple-chaser--he's got some rare bones about him, I must say. Well, I
was just in the very act of pulling on my boots, when Shrimp makes his
appearance, and squeaking out, 'Here's a gent, as vonts to see you, sir,
partic'lar,' ushers in no less a personage than Lucy Markham's devoted
admirer, the drysalter.”
~470~~ “What! the gentleman whose business we settled so nicely the day
before yesterday? Freddy Coleman's dreaded rival?”
“Eh? yes, the very identical, and an uncommon good little follow he
is too, as men go, I can tell you. Well, you may suppose I was puzzled
enough to find out what he could want with me, and was casting about for
something to say to him, when he makes a sort of a bow, and begins:--
“'The Honourable George Lawless, I believe?'
“'The same, sir, at your service,' replies I, giving a stamp with my
foot to get my boot on.
“'May I beg the favour of five minutes' private conversation with you?'
“'Eh? oh yes, certainly,' says I. 'Get out of this, you inquisitive
little imp of darkness, and tell Reynolds to tie the colt up to the
pillar-reins, and let him champ the bit till I come down; that's the way
to bring him to a mouth;' and, hastening Shrimp's departure by throwing
the slippers at his head, I continued, 'Now, sir, I'm your man; what's
the row, eh?'
“'A-hem! yes, sir, really it is somewhat a peculiar--that is a
disagreeable business. I had thought of getting a friend to call upon
you.'
“'A friend, eh? oh! I see the move now--pistols for two, and coffee
for four; invite a couple of friends to make arrangements for getting
a bullet put into you in the most gentlemanly way possible, and call it
_receiving satisfaction_,--very satisfactory, certainly. Well, sir, you
shall soon have my answer: no man can call George Lawless a coward; if
he did, he'd soon find his eyesight obscured, and a marked alteration in
the general outline of his features; but I never have fought a duel, and
I never mean to fight one. If I've smashed your panels, or done you any
injury, I am willing to pay for repairs, and make as much apology as one
man has any right to expect from another; or, if it will be a greater
ease to your mind, we'll off coats, ring for Shrimp and Harry Oaklands'
boy to see fair play, and have it out on the spot, all snug and
comfortable; but no pistoling work, thank ye.'
“Well, the little chap didn't seem to take at all kindly to the notion,
though, as I fancied he wasn't much of a bruiser, I offered to tie my
right hand behind me, and fight him with my left, but it was clearly
no go; so I thought I'd better hold my tongue, and leave him to explain
himself. After dodging about the bush for some time, he began to get the
steam up a little, and when he ~471~~ did break cover, went away at a
rattling pace,--let out at me in style, I can tell you. His affections
had been set on Lucy Markham ever since he had had any, and I had
been and destroyed the happiness of his whole life, and rendered him
a miserable individual--a mark for the finger of scorn to poke fun at.
Shocking bad names he did call himself, to be sure, poor little beggar!
till 'pon my word, I began to get quite sorry for him. At last it came
out, that the thing which chiefly aggravated him was, that Lucy should
have given him up for the sake of marrying a man of rank. If it had been
any one she was deeply attached to, he would not have so much minded;
but it was nothing but a paltry ambition to be a peeress; she was
mercenary, he knew it, and it was that which stung him to the quick.
“Well, as he said this, a bright idea flashed across me, that I could
satisfy the little 'victim,' as he called himself, and get my own neck
out of the collar, at one and the same time; so I went up to him, and
giving him a slap on the back that set him coughing like a broken-winded
hunter after a sharp burst, I said, 'Mr. Brown, I what the females call
sympathise with you;--your thing-em-bobs--sentiments, eh? are perfectly
correct, and do you credit. Now listen to me, young feller;--I'm
willing to do my best to accommodate you in this matter, and, if you're
agreeable, this is the way we'll settle it. You don't choose Lucy
should marry me, and I don't choose she should marry you;--now if you'll
promise to give her up, I'll do the same. That's fair, ain't it?' 'Do
you mean it really?' says he. 'Really and truly,' says I. 'Will you
swear?' says he. 'Like a trooper, if that will please you,' says I.
'Sir, you're a gentleman--a generous soul,' says he, quite overcome;
and, grasping my hand, sobs out, 'I'll promise'. 'Done, along with you,
drysalter,' says I, 'you're a trump;' and we shook hands till he got
so red in the face, I began to be afraid of spontaneous combustion.
'There's nothing like striking when the iron's hot,' thinks I; so I
made him sit down there and then, and we wrote a letter together to old
Coleman, telling him the resolution we had come to, and saying, if he
chose to bring an action for breach of promise of marriage against us,
we would defend it conjointly, and pay the costs between us. What do you
think of that, Master Frank? Eh?”
“That you certainly have a more wonderful knack of getting into scrapes,
and out of them again, than any man I ever met with,” replied I,
laughing.
~472~~ Before we had finished breakfast Peter Barnett made his
appearance. On his return to Barstone, he was informed that Mr. Vernor
had been seized with an apoplectic fit, probably the result of the
agitation of the morning. He was still in a state of stupor when Peter
started to acquaint us with the fact, and the medical man who had been
sent for considered him in a very precarious condition. Under these
circumstances, Mr. Frampton immediately set out for Barstone, where
he remained till the following morning, when he rejoined us. A slight
improvement had taken place in the patient's health; he had recovered
his consciousness, and requested to see Mr. Frampton. During the
interview which ensued, he acknowledged Mr. Frampton's rights, and
withdrew all further opposition to his wishes.
After the lapse of a few days, Mr. Vernor recovered sufficiently to
remove from Barstone to a small farm which he possessed in the north,
where he lingered for some months, shattered alike in health and
spirits. He steadily refused to see either Clara or myself, or to accept
the slightest kindness at our hands; but we have since had reason to
believe, that in this he was actuated by a feeling of compunction,
rather than of animosity. Nothing is so galling to a proud spirit, as to
receive favours from those it has injured. In less than a year from
the time he quitted Barstone Priory, a second attack terminated his
existence. On examining his papers after his decease, Peter Barnett's
suspicions that Richard Cumberland was Mr. Vernor's natural son were
verified, and this discovery tended to account for a considerable
deficiency in Clara's fortune, the unhappy father having been tempted
to appropriate large sums of money to relieve his spendthrift son's
embarrassments. This also served to explain his inflexible determination
that Clara should marry Cumberland, such being the only arrangement by
which he could hope to prevent the detection of his dishonesty.
Reader, the interest of my story, always supposing it to have possessed
any in your eyes, is now over.
Since the occurrence of the events I have just related the course of my
life has been a smooth, and, though not exempt from some share in the
“ills that flesh is heir to,” an unusually happy one.
In an address, whether from the pulpit or the rostrum, half the battle
is to know when you have said enough--the same rule applies with
equal force to the tale-writer. There are two errors into which he may
fall--he may say too little, or he may say too much. The first is a
venial ~473~~ sin, and easily forgiven--the second nearly unpardonable.
Such, at all events, being my ideas on the subject, I shall merely
proceed to give a brief outline of the fate of the principal personages
who have figured in these pages ere I bring this veritable history
to a close. Cumberland, after his flight from the scene at the
turnpike-house, made his way to Liverpool, and, his money being secreted
about his person, hastened to put his original plan into execution. A
vessel was about to start for America, by which he obtained a passage to
New York. In the United States he continued the same vicious course of
life which had exiled him from England, and, as a natural consequence,
sank lower and lower in the scale of humanity. The last account heard
of him stated that, having added drinking to the catalogue of his
vices, his constitution, unable to bear up against the inroads made by
dissipation, was rapidly failing, while he was described to be in the
most abject poverty. The captain of an American vessel with whom I am
slightly acquainted, promised me that he would gain more particulars
concerning him, and, if he were in actual want, leave money with some
responsible person for his use, so as to ensure him against starvation.
The result of his inquiries I have yet to learn.
Old Mr. Coleman was, as may be imagined, dreadfully irate on the receipt
of the singular epistle bearing the joint signatures of Lawless and Mr.
Lowe Brown, and was only restrained from bringing an action for breach
of promise by having it strongly represented to him that the effect of
so doing would be to make himself and his niece ridiculous. Freddy and
Lucy Markham had the good sense to wait till Mr. Coleman had taken the
former into partnership, which he fortunately inclined to do almost
immediately; being then, with the aid of Lawless's receivership, in
possession of a very comfortable income, the only serious objection
to the marriage was removed; and the father, partly to escape Mrs.
Coleman's very singular and not over-perspicuous arguments, partly
because he loved his son better than he was himself aware, gave his
consent.
George Lawless is still a bachelor. If questioned on the subject, his
invariable reply is, “Eh, married? Not I! Women are a kind of cattle,
don't you see, that I never did understand. If it was anything about
a horse now--” There are some, however, who attribute his celibacy to
another cause, and deem that he has never yet seen any one calculated
to efface the memory of his sincere though eccentric attachment to my
sister Fanny.
~474~~ It was on a bright summer morning that the bells of the little
church of Heathfield pealed merrily to celebrate a triple wedding; and
fairer brides than Fanny, Clara and Lucy Markham, or happier bridegrooms
than Harry Oaklands, Freddy Coleman and myself, never pronounced the
irrevocable “I will”. There were smiles on all faces; and if there
were a few tears also, they were such as angels might not grudge to
weep--tears of pure, unalloyed happiness.
Years have passed away since that day--years of mingled light and shade;
but never, as I believe, have either of the couples then linked together
shown, by thought, word or deed, that they have failed in gratitude to
the Giver of all good things, who in His mercy had granted them the rare
and inestimable blessing of sharing the joys and sorrows of this world
of trial with a loving and beloved companion.
Clara and I reside at Barstone Priory, which is also Mr. Frampton's
home, when he is at home; but his wandering habits lead him to spend
much of his time in a round of visits to his friends; and Heathfield
Hall and Cottage, Leatherly and Elm Grove, are in turn gladdened by the
sound of his kindly laugh and sonorous grunts.
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