towards young Fairfax.
“I don't want no jobs,” muttered Ikey. “Saturday night comes often
enough for me. Seven-and-twenty wagons a-week, out and in, in the way of
work, and half-a-guinea a-week, in the way of wages, is as much as I can
manage.”
“Ikey is very temperate, sir,” said the clerk; “very temperate, I
must allow;--he eats little and drinks less: he keeps up his flesh by
sleeping, and sucking his thumbs.”
“Ah! you will have your joke,” said Ikey, turning towards the heap of
luggage again.
“And won't you earn a shilling or two, Ikey?” said the clerk.
“No; I'm an independent man: I have as much work as I can do, and as
much wages as I want. I wish you wouldn't wake me, when there's no
wagon:--how should you like it?”
“Well, but, friend Pope,” said Godfrey, “as you will not take money,
perhaps you'll be generous enough to do a gentleman a favour. I shall be
happy to make you some acceptable little present--keepsake, I mean--in
return. I've an old pair of Hessians,--and, as I think our legs are
about of a size--”
“Of a size!” said Ikey, facing about towards young Fairfax, and, for the
first time, unclosing his heavy lids; “of a size!” repeated he, a second
time, casting a critical glance on Godfrey's leg; “I can hardly think
that.”
Ikey dropped on one knee, and, without uttering a word, proceeded to
measure Godfrey's calves with his huge, hard hands. He then rose, and
rather dogmatically observed, “The gentleman has got a goodish sort of
a leg; but,” continued he, “his calves don't travel in flush enough with
one another exactly: he couldn't hold a sixpence between his ancles, the
middle of his legs, and his knees, as a person I'm acquainted with can,
when he likes to turn his toes out:--but I think your boots might fit
me, sir.”
“I'm sure they will,” cried the impatient Godfrey; “and you shall have
them.”
“Your hand, then;--it's a bargain,” quoth Ikey, thrusting out his fist,
and striking a heavy blow in the centre of Godfrey's palm. “Now, what's
the job?”
Godfrey rapidly stated his case, and, with all the eloquence he
possessed, endeavoured to stimulate the drowsy fellow, on whom his chief
hopes now depended, to a state of activity. Ikey listened to him, with
closed eyes, and did not seem to comprehend a tythe of what he heard.
When Godfrey had concluded, he merely observed, “I'll have a shy!” and
staggered out of the yard, more like a drunkard reeling home from a
debauch, than a man despatched to find out an unknown individual in the
heart of a busy and populous city.
“The William and Mary, by which I was to sail, lies at King-road,” said
Godfrey to the clerk, as Ikey Pope departed; “the wind, I perceive,
is fair, and sail she will, this evening, without a doubt. Unfortunate
fellow that I am!--every moment is an age to me.”
“Perhaps you'd like to sit down in the office,” said the clerk; “I can
offer you a seat and yesterday's paper.”
“Thank you, thank you!” replied Godfrey; “but I fear pursuit, too:--I
cannot rest here.”
The young man again walked into the streets: he inquired of almost every
person he met, for the little black porter; but no one could give him
any information. At last, a crowd began to gather around him, and he
was, with very little ceremony, unanimously voted a lunatic. Two or
three fellows had even approached to lay hands on him, when his eye
suddenly encountered that of Ikey Pope: breaking through the crowd at
once, he hurried back, with Ikey, to the wagon-office.
“I've won the boots,” said Ikey, as they entered the yard.
“Which way?--how?--Have you seen him?--Where is he?” eagerly inquired
Godfrey.
“I can't make out where he is,” replied Ikey; “but I happened to drop
into the house where he smokes his pipe, and there I heard the whole
yam. He brought the chest there.”
“Where?--where?”
“Why, to the Dog and Dolphin.”
“Til fly--”
“Oh! it's of no use: the landlord says it was carried away again, by a
pair of Pill-sharks; who, from what I can get out of him and his people,
had orders to take it down the river, and put it aboard the William and
Mary, what's now lying in Ringroad, bound for Demerary.”
“Oh! then, I dare say it's all a mistake, and no roguery's intended,”
said the clerk, who had heard Ikey's statement: “the person found he was
wrong, and, to make amends, has duly forwarded the trunk, pursuant to
the direction on its cover.”
“A chaise and four to Lamplighter's Hall, instantly!” shouted Godfrey.
“First and second turn, pull out your tits,” cried the ostler: “put to,
while I fill up a ticket.”
“Are you going, sir?” said Ikey, to young Fairfax.
“On the wings of love,” replied Godfrey.
“But the boots!”
“Ah! true. There,--there's a five pound note,--buy the best pair of
Hessians you can get.”
“What about the change?”
“Keep it or, oddso! yes,--distribute it among the porters; and be sure,
Ikey, if ever I return to England, I'll make your fortune: I'd do it
now, but I really haven't time.”
In a few minutes, Godfrey was seated in a chaise, behind four excellent
horses, and dashing along, at full speed, toward's Lamplighter's Hall.
On his arrival at that place, he found, to his utter dismay, that the
William and Mary had already set sail. After some little delay--during
which he ascertained that his trunk had positively been carried on
board--Godfrey procured a pilot-boat; the master of which undertook to
do all that lay in the power of man to overtake the vessel. After two
hours of intense anxiety, the pilot informed Godfrey, that, if the wind
did not get up before sunset, he felt pretty sure of success. Far beyond
the Holms, and just as the breeze was growing brisk, Godfrey, to his
unspeakable joy, reached the deck of the William and Mary. The
pilot immediately dropped astern; and, as soon as Godfrey could find
utterance, he inquired for his trunk. It had already been so securely
stowed away in the hold, that, as Godfrey was informed, it could not be
hoisted on deck in less than half an hour. The impatient youth entreated
that not a moment might be lost; and, in a short time, five or six of
the crew, with apparent alacrity, but real reluctance, set about what
they considered the useless task of getting the trunk out of the snug
berth in which they had placed it.
It is now necessary for us to take up another thread of our story; for
which purpose, we must return to that point of time when the wagon,
which contained Godfrey's precious chest, slowly disappeared behind
the brow of a hill, at the foot of which stood the worthy Doctor's
residence. Patty Wallis, Isabel's maid and bosom friend, had, for some
time past, been bought over to the interest of Charles Perry, to whom
she communicated every transaction of importance that occurred in the
house. On that eventful morning, she had acquainted Perry with Godfrey's
plan,--the particulars of which her young mistress had confided to her,
under a solemn pledge of secresy,--and Perry, from behind the hedge of
an orchard, nearly opposite the Doctor's house, beheld young Fairfax
consign his trunk to the care of the wagoners. Godfrey entered the
house, as the heavy vehicle turned the summit of the hill; and Charles
Perry immediately retreated from his place of concealment, to join his
trusty groom, Doncaster Dick, who was waiting for him, with a pair of
saddle horses, in a neighbouring lane.
“You've marked the game, I'll lay guineas to pounds!” exclaimed Dick,
as Charles approached. “I'm sure I'm right;--I can see it by your eyes.
Guineas to pounds, did I say?--I'd go six to four, up to any figure, on
it.”
“I wish you'd a thousand or two on the event, Dick,” replied Charles
Perry, exultingly; “you'd have a safe book at any odds.”
“Well! I always thought how it would be: if there was fifty entered for
the young lady, you'd be my first favourite; because for why?--as I've
said scores of times,--if you couldn't beat'em out and out, you'd jockey
them to the wrong side of the post.”
“I hope you've not been fool enough to let any one know of Godfrey's
scheme, or of my being acquainted with it:--'brush' is the word, if you
have.”
“I'd lay a new hat, sir, if the truth was known, you don't suspect me.
You're pretty sure I'm not noodle enough to open upon the scent in a
poaching party: I was born in Bristol and brought up at Doncaster to
very little purpose, if ever I should be sent to heel for that fault.
But won't you mount, sir?”
“I'm thinking, Dick,” said Perry, who stood with one foot on the ground
and the other in the stirrup;--“I'm thinking you had better push on by
yourself, in order to avoid suspicion. Yes, that's the plan:--take the
high road, and I'll have a steeple-chase run of it across the country.
Make the best of your way to old Harry Tuffin's; put up the horse, watch
for the wagon, and, as soon as it arrives, send a porter, who doesn't
know you, to fetch the trunk:--you know how it's directed.”
“But where am I to--”
“Have it brought to Tuffin's:--bespeak a private room, at the back part
of the house; and order a chaise and four to be ready, at a moment's
notice.”
“But suppose, sir, Miss should be rusty?”
“I'm sure she loves me, Dick, let them say what they will: she wouldn't
have attempted to ran away with this young Creole fellow, if she thought
there was any chance of having me. Besides, what can she do?--her
reputation, Dick,--consider that but I'm talking Greek to _you_. Be
off--get the trunk to Tuffin's.”
“And a thousand to three she's yours;--that's what you mean, sir,” said
Dick, touching his hat to Perry, as he turned his horse's head towards
the high road. In a few moments he was out of sight, and Charles set
off, at a brisk pace, down the lane.
On his arrival at Tuffin's, Perry found his trusty servant engaged in
deep conversation, a few paces from the door, with a short, muscular,
black man, whose attire was scrupulously neat, although patched in
several places; his shoes were very well polished; his neckerchief was
coarse, but white as snow; he wore a large silver ring on the little
finger of his left hand; his hair was tied behind with great neatness;
he had a porter's knot hanging on his arm: and, as Perry approached, he
drew a small tin box from his waistcoat pocket, and took snuff with the
air of a finished coxcomb.
“Is this the porter you've engaged, Dick?” inquired Perry.
“I couldn't meet with another,” replied Dick, “besides, sir, he's not
objectionable, I think;--he talks like a parson.”
“But he's too old for the weight, Dick, I'm afraid. What's your age,
friend?”
“A rude question, as some would say,” replied the porter, with a smile
and a bow; “but Cæsar Devallé is not a coy young beauty.”
“So I perceive, Caesar,--if that's your name.”
“You do me great honour,” said the porter, “and I'm bound to venerate
you, Mister--what shall I say? No offence;--but mutual confidence is the
link of society. I am so far of that opinion, that I can boast of seven
lovely children; and Mrs. Devallé, although full two-and-thirty when
I took her in hand, already dances divinely: indeed, I can now safely
confide to her the instruction of our infant progeny in the first
rudiments of Terpsichore,--graceful maid!--while I teach my eldest boys
the violin and shaving. We must get our bread as well as worship the
muses, you know; for teeth were not given for nothing.”
“No, certainly,” observed Dick; “we know an animal's age by'em:--what's
yours?”
“In round numbers--fifty.”
“I fear, my learned friend,” said Perry, “you are scarcely strong enough
for my purpose.”
“I am not equal to Hercules,” replied the porter; “but I possess what
that great man never did,--namely, a truck. I have often thought what
wonders Hercules would have done, if somebody had made him a present of
two or three trifles which we moderns almost despise. Life, you know, is
short, and therefore machinery is esteemed: consequently, 'to bear and
forbear' is my motto; for nobody can see the bottom of the briny waves.”
“You are rather out at elbows in your logic, Cæsar,” said Perry;
“and your motto seems to me to be a _non sequitur_:--but you read, I
perceive.”
“Yes, when my numerous occupations permit me,--for spectacles are cheap:
but I find numerous faults with the doctrine of chances; and those who
pretend to see through a millstone, in my opinion--”
“Keep your eye up the street,” Dick, interrupted Charles, turning from
the Little Black Porter to his servant; “the wagon must be near at
hand, by this time. Allow me to ask you, friend,” continued he, again
addressing Cæsar Devallé, “are you a regular porter?”
“Why, truly,” replied Devallé, “the winds and the weather preach such
doctrine to us, that I occasionally shave and give lessons on the
violin. All nature is continually shifting;--why, then, should man be
constant, except to his wife? Night succeeds the day, and darkness,
light; and I certainly prefer practising a cotillon with a pupil,
even if she's barefooted, to shouldering the knot. My terms are very
moderate: but some people think ability lies only skin deep; to which
class you, sir, certainly do not belong;--that is, if I know anything of
a well-cut coat.”
The Little Black Porter now retired, bowing and grinning, to a little
distance, leaving Charles with his servant.
“I'll lay a pony, sir,” said Dick, “the wagon isn't here this
half-hour.”
“Ridiculous!” exclaimed Perry. Dick, however, was right; forty minutes
elapsed before the bells on the horses' heads were heard. In another
half-hour, Godfrey's trunk, by the exertions of Perry, Dick, and the
Little Black Porter, was removed from the truck on which Cæsar had
brought it from the wagon-office, and triumphantly deposited on the
floor of a back room in old Tuffin's house.
Trembling with joy, Charles Perry immediately proceeded to sever the
cords. Leaving him occupied with that “delightful task,” we shall
take leave to carry the reader back again to the residence of Doctor
Plympton.
It has already been stated that young Isabel stepped gaily into the
chest. She continued to laugh, and actually enjoyed the novelty of her
situation, for a few seconds after Godfrey Fairfax had closed the lid.
But her courage began to sink, from the moment she heard the holt of
the lock shot, with a noise, that seemed to her at once portentous and
prodigious: she even uttered a faint scream; but her pride mastered her
weakness in an instant, and her exclamation of alarm terminated in her
usual apparently joyous, but, perhaps, heartless laugh. Godfrey, much
to his delight, heard her tittering, during the short period he
was occupied in securely cording up the trunk. “Now, my dear little
heroine,” whispered he, through the key-hole, as he fastened the last
knot, “keep up your spirits; let the delightful thought of our early
meeting, and years of subsequent bliss, support you through this
trifling ordeal. Remember, I--mark me, Isabel!--I, who love you better
than any other living creature does--I, who deem you the greatest
treasure on earth,--I say you are quite safe. Do not forget that my
happiness or misery are at the mercy of your courage and patience. I
hear some one coming.--Adieu!--_Au revoir_, my love!”
Godfrey now left the room, and contrived to decoy Doctor Plympton, whom
he met in the passage, down stairs to the study, where he amused the old
gentleman, by some plausible detail of his future intentions with regard
to mathematics and the dead languages, until the arrival of the wagon by
which the trunk was to be conveyed to town.
Meantime, an event of considerable importance took place in the
store-room. Isabel had made no reply to Godfrey's adieu; for the
idea that she was so soon to be left alone, entirely deprived her of
utterance; and, as the sound of his footsteps died away on her ear, she
began to grow not only weary but terrified. Though incapable of judging
of the real dangers of her situation, and blind to the impropriety of
her conduct, her spirits were wofully depressed by imaginary terrors,
which, however, were not, for a short period, sufficiently powerful to
render her insensible to the personal inconvenience which she suffered.
She thought of Juliet in the tomb, and felt sure, that were she to fall
asleep, she should go mad in the first few moments after waking, under
the idea that she was in her coffin, and had been buried alive. Her
courage and pride completely deserted her: she moaned piteously, and her
senses began to be affected. Luckily for her, perhaps, George Wharton,
having nothing else to do, sauntered into the store-room, to see if
Godfrey had finished packing up. He was not a little surprised to hear
the voice of one in deep affliction proceed from the chest. After a
moment's hesitation, during which he almost doubted the evidence of his
ears, he knocked on the lid, and inquired if any one were within. It is
almost needless to say, that the reply was in the affirmative.
“What trick is this?” exclaimed George. “Who is it?”
“Oh! dear Mr. Wharton! pray let me out,” cried Isabel.
“Good Heavens! Isabel!--I'll fly for assistance.”
“No; not for worlds! I could not wait for it. Cut the cords and break
open the chest this moment, or I shall die.”
With the aid of a pocket-knife and the poker, George soon emancipated
Isabel from her place of confinement. Pale and sobbing, she sank into
his arms, and vowed eternal gratitude to her kind deliverer, whom, she
said, notwithstanding appearances, she loved better than any other being
in existence.
“If so,” said George, very naturally, “why do I find you in Godfrey's
chest?”
“Don't I confess that appearances are against me?” exclaimed Isabel,
pettishly; “what more would you have?”
“I am not unreasonable, Isabel: but I shall certainly talk to Mr.
Fairfax, on this subject, before he leaves the house;--on that, I am
resolved.”
“No doubt you are; or to do anything else that you think will vex me.”
“Nay, Isabel, you are too severe.”
“Indeed,” said Isabel, “I am quite the contrary: it is nothing but the
excess of my foolish good-nature that has led me into this disagreeable
situation. My frolic has cost me dear enough. That horrid Godfrey!”
“His conduct is atrocious; and I shall immediately mention it to the
Doctor.”
“My father would rate him soundly for it, I know; and he richly deserves
a very long lecture: but 'forget and forgive,' George, has always been
your motto, and I think I shall make it mine. Godfrey has been our
companion for years; and it would be useless to make mischief, for a
trifle, at the moment of his leaving us; 'twere better, by far, to part
friends. Besides, after all, poor fellow, one can scarcely blame him,”
added Isabel, with a smile, as her eye caught the reflection of her
beautiful features in an old looking-glass; “even you, George, who are
such an icy-hearted creature, say you would go through fire and water to
possess me; and no wonder that such a high-spirited fellow as Godfrey--”
“I feel rather inclined, Miss Plympton,” interrupted George, “to shew
that my spirit is quite as high as his.”
“Then be noble, George, and don't notice what has happened. It's
entirely your own fault: you know his ardour,--his magical mode of
persuading one almost out of one's sober senses, and yet you never can
contrive to be in the way.”
“My feelings, Isabel, are too delicate to--”
“Well, then, you must put up with the consequences. I am sure that
some people, even if one don't like them much, influence one to be
more complaisant to them, than to others whom one really loves; because
others will not condescend to be attentive. But, come,--pray don't look
so grave: I am sure I was nearly frightened out of my wits just now, and
I don't look half so sorrowful as you; although, I protest, I haven't
recovered yet. What are you thinking of?”
“I am thinking, Isabel,” replied George, “that, after all, I had better
speak to Godfrey; for, if I do not, when he discovers what has happened,
he will certainly accuse me of the singular crime of stealing his
sweetheart out of his box.”
“Well, that's true enough: but we must contrive to avoid an
éclaircissement. As the trunk is not perceptibly damaged, suppose you
fasten it up again with the cords; and, by way of a joke, to make it
of a proper weight, put in young Squire Perry's dog as my substitute.
Godfrey vowed to kill him, you know, before he left us; and he did
so, not above an hour ago, while the horrid creature was in the act of
worrying my poor little Beaufidel. Godfrey said he should leave him, as
a legacy, in the back-yard, for you to bury and bear the blame.”
“I must confess,” said Wharton, “it would be a pleasant retaliation: I
certainly should enjoy it!”
“Then fly at once down the back stairs for the creature: nobody will see
you:--go.”
“Will you remain here?”
“Fie, George! Do you think I could endure the sight of the shocking
animal?”
“Well, well;--but will you see Godfrey again?”
“Certainly not: I shall keep out of the way. It is arranged that he
shall say I have the head-ache, and am gone to my room; so he'll insist
upon waiving my appearance at his departure. Do as I tell you, my dear
George, and we shall get rid of him delightfully.”
Isabel now tripped lightly away to her little boudoir, where she was
secure from intrusion; and Wharton proceeded to carry her ideas into
execution with such unusual alacrity, that he had achieved his object
long before the arrival of the wagon. He assisted in bringing the trunk
down stairs; but his gravity was so much disturbed, by the very strict
injunctions which Godfrey gave the wagoners to be more than usually
careful with his property, that, for fear of betraying himself, he was
compelled to make a precipitate retreat into the house. As soon as he
was out of the hearing of his young rival, he indulged in an immoderate
fit of laughter, which was echoed by Isabel, who, peeping through the
window of her apartment, heartily enjoyed the anxiety which Godfrey, by
his looks, appeared to feel for the safety of his chest and its precious
contents. She kept out of sight until young Fairfax had departed;
when Fatty Wallis was struck speechless, for nearly a minute, at being
summoned by Isabel in person, to dress her for dinner.
The indignation and amazement of Charles Perry, on seeing his own dead
dog in the trunk, where he had expected to find the fair form of the
blooming and lively Isabel Plympton, may easily be imagined. His first
emotions of wonder at the sight were quickly succeeded by the deepest
regret for the death of his favourite dog: but his sorrow for the animal
was suddenly extinguished by a most painful feeling of mortification,
at having been so egregiously duped: at last, rage,--violent and
ungovernable rage, seemed to master all other passions in his bosom. He
raved like a Bedlamite, beat his forehead, tore his hair, stamped up and
down the room, vowed to sacrifice, not only young Fairfax, Patty
Wallis, Doctor Plympton, but even Doncaster Dick himself; and when his
excitement had reached its highest pitch, he lifted the dead dog out
of the chest, and hurled it, with all his might, at the head of Cæsar
Devallé. The force of the blow threw the Little Black Porter on the
floor, where he lay with the dog sprawling upon him; and his grimaces,
and exclamations for rescue from the animal, appeared so exceedingly
ludicrous to Charles Perry, that the young gentleman burst out into a
violent and uncontrollable fit of laughter, in which he was most readily
joined by Doncaster Dick.