Squire and fool are the same thing here--FARQUHAR.
In such a night
Did Jessica steal from the wealthy Jew,
And, with an unthrift love, did run from Venice.---SHAKSPEARE.
The persecutions which Isabel had undergone had indeed preyed upon her
reason as well as her health; and, in her brief intervals of respite
from the rage of the uncle, the insults of the aunt, and, worse than
all, the addresses of the intended bridegroom, her mind, shocked and
unhinged, reverted with such intensity to the sufferings she endured as
to give her musings the character of insanity. It was in one of these
moments that she had written to Mordaunt; and had the contest continued
much longer the reason of the unfortunate and persecuted girl would have
totally deserted her.
She was a person of acute, and even poignant, sensibilities, and these
the imperfect nature of her education had but little served to guide
or to correct; but as her habits were pure and good, the impulses which
spring from habit were also sinless and exalted, and, if they erred,
“they leaned on virtue’s side,” and partook rather of a romantic
and excessive generosity than of the weakness of womanhood or the
selfishness of passion. All the misery and debasement of her equivocal
and dependent situation had not been able to drive her into compliance
with Mordaunt’s passionate and urgent prayers; and her heart was proof
even to the eloquence of love, when that eloquence pointed towards the
worldly injury and depreciation of her lover: but this new persecution
was utterly unforeseen in its nature and intolerable from its cause. To
marry another; to be torn forever from one in whom her whole heart was
wrapped; to be forced not only to forego his love, but to feel that the
very thought of him was a crime,--all this, backed by the vehement and
galling insults of her relations, and the sullen and unmoved meanness of
her intended bridegroom, who answered her candour and confession with a
stubborn indifference and renewed overtures, made a load of evil which
could neither be borne with resignation nor contemplated with patience.
She was sitting, after she had sent her letter, with her two relations,
for they seldom trusted her out of their sight, when Mr. Glumford was
announced. Now, Mr. George Glumford was a country gentleman of what
might be termed a third-rate family in the county: he possessed about
twelve hundred a year, to say nothing of the odd pounds, shillings, and
pence, which, however, did not meet with such contempt in his memory or
estimation; was of a race which could date as far back as Charles the
Second; had been educated at a country school with sixty others, chiefly
inferior to himself in rank; and had received the last finish at a
very small hall at Oxford. In addition to these advantages, he had been
indebted to nature for a person five feet eight inches high, and stout
in proportion; for hair very short, very straight, and of a red hue,
which even through powder cast out a yellow glow; for an obstinate
dogged sort of nose, beginning in snub, and ending in bottle; for cold,
small, gray eyes, a very small mouth, pinched up and avaricious; and
very large, very freckled, yet rather white hands, the nails of which
were punctiliously cut into a point every other day, with a pair of
scissors which Mr. Glumford often boasted had been in his possession
since his eighth year; namely, for about thirty-two legitimate
revolutions of the sun.
He was one of those persons who are equally close and adventurous; who
love the eclat of a little speculation, but take exceeding good care
that it should be, in their own graceful phrase, “on the safe side of
the hedge.” In pursuance of this characteristic of mind, he had
resolved to fall in love with Miss Isabel St. Leger; for she being very
dependent, he could boast to her of his disinterestedness, and hope that
she would be economical through a principle of gratitude; and being
the nearest relation to the opulent General St. Leger and his unmarried
sister there seemed to be every rational probability of her inheriting
the bulk of their fortunes. Upon these hints of prudence spake Mr.
George Glumford.
Now, when Isabel, partly in her ingenuous frankness, partly from the
passionate promptings of her despair, revealed to him her attachment to
another, and her resolution never, with her own consent, to become his,
it seemed to the slow but not uncalculating mind of Mr. Glumford not by
any means desirable that he should forego his present intentions, but
by all means desirable that he should make this reluctance of Isabel
an excuse for sounding the intentions and increasing the posthumous
liberality of the East Indian and his sister.
“The girl is of my nearest blood,” said the Major-General, “and if I
don’t leave my fortune to her, who the devil should I leave it to, sir?”
and so saying, the speaker, who was in a fell paroxysm of the gout,
looked so fiercely at the hinting wooer that Mr. George Glumford, who
was no Achilles, was somewhat frightened, and thought it expedient to
hint no more.
“My brother,” said Miss Diana, “is so odd; but he is the most generous
of men: besides, the girl has claims upon him.” Upon these speeches Mr.
Glumford thought himself secure; and inly resolving to punish the
fool for her sulkiness and bad taste as soon as he lawfully could, he
continued his daily visits and told his sporting acquaintance that his
time was coming.
Revenons a nos moutons. Forgive this preliminary detail, and let us
return to Mr. Glumford himself, whom we left at the door, pulling and
fumbling at the glove which covered his right hand, in order to present
the naked palm to Miss Diana St. Leger. After this act was performed,
he approached Isabel, and drawing his chair near to her, proceeded
to converse with her as the Ogre did with Puss in Boots; namely, “as
civilly as an Ogre could do.”
This penance had not proceeded far, before the door was again opened,
and Mr. Morris Brown presented himself to the conclave.
“Your servant, General; your servant, Madam. I took the liberty of
coming back again, Madam, because I forgot to show you some very fine
silks, the most extraordinary bargain in the world,--quite presents;
and I have a Sevres bowl here, a superb article, from the cabinet of the
late Lady Waddilove.”
Now Mr. Brown was a very old acquaintance of Miss Diana St. Leger, for
there is a certain class of old maids with whom our fair readers are no
doubt acquainted, who join to a great love of expense a great love of
bargains, and who never purchase at the regular place if they can find
any irregular vendor. They are great friends of Jews and itinerants,
hand-in-glove with smugglers, Ladies Bountiful to pedlers, are diligent
readers of puffs and advertisements, and eternal haunters of sales and
auctions. Of this class was Miss Diana a most prominent individual:
judge, then, how acceptable to her was the acquaintance of Mr. Brown.
That indefatigable merchant of miscellanies had, indeed, at a time
when brokers were perhaps rather more rare and respectable than now, a
numerous country acquaintance, and thrice a year he performed a sort
of circuit to all his customers and connections; hence his visit to St.
Leger House, and hence Isabel’s opportunity of conveying her epistle.
“Pray,” said Mr. Glumford, who had heard much of Mr. Brown’s “presents”
from Miss Diana,--“pray don’t you furnish rooms, and things of that
sort?”
“Certainly, sir, certainly, in the best manner possible.”
“Oh, very well; I shall want some rooms furnished soon,--a bedroom and
a dressing-room, and things of that sort, you know. And so--perhaps
you may have something in your box that will suit me, gloves or
handkerchiefs or shirts or things of that sort.”
“Yes, sir, everything, I sell everything,” said Mr. Brown, opening his
box. “I beg pardon, Miss Isabel, I have dropped my handkerchief by your
chair; allow me to stoop,” and Mr. Brown, stooping under the table,
managed to effect his purpose; unseen by the rest, a note was slipped
into Isabel’s hand, and under pretence of stooping too, she managed to
secure the treasure. Love need well be honest if, even when it is most
true, it leads us into so much that is false!
Mr. Brown’s box was now unfolded before the eyes of the crafty Mr.
Glumford, who, having selected three pair of gloves, offered the exact
half of the sum demanded.
Mr. Brown lifted up his hands and eyes.
“You see,” said the imperturbable Glumford, “that if you let me have
them for that, and they last me well, and don’t come unsewn, and stand
cleaning, you’ll have my custom in furnishing the house, and rooms,
and--things of that sort.”
Struck with the grandeur of this opening, Mr. Brown yielded, and the
gloves were bought.
“The fool!” thought the noble George, laughing in his sleeve, “as if
I should ever furnish the house from his box!” Strange that some men
should be proud of being mean! The moment Isabel escaped to dress for
dinner, she opened her lover’s note. It was as follows.--
Be in the room, your retreat, at nine this evening. Let the window be
left unclosed. Precisely at that hour I will be with you. I shall have
everything in readiness for your flight. Be sure, dearest Isabel, that
nothing prevents your meeting me there, even if all your house follow
or attend you. I will bear you from all. Oh, Isabel! in spite of the
mystery and wretchedness of your letter, I feel too happy, too blest at
the thought that our fates will be at length united, and that the union
is at hand. Remember nine. A. M.
Love is a feeling which has so little to do with the world, a passion
so little regulated by the known laws of our more steady and settled
emotions, that the thoughts which it produces are always more or
less connected with exaggeration and romance. To the secret spirit of
enterprise which, however chilled by his pursuits and habits, still
burned within Mordaunt’s breast, there was a wild pleasure in the
thought of bearing off his mistress and his bride from the very home and
hold of her false friends and real foes; while in the contradictions
of the same passion, Isabel, so far from exulting at her approaching
escape, trembled at her danger and blushed for her temerity; and the
fear and the modesty of woman almost triumphed over her brief energy and
fluctuating resolve.