THE sand in the hour-glass of happiness is surely of a finer quality
than that which rolls so slowly through the glass of this world's
ordinary cares and fears. Oh! how rosy-footed trip the minutes that
lead along the dance of joy! How sweetly they come, how swiftly they
fly, how bright their presence, and how speedy their departure! Every
one who has ever had a pen in his hand, has said exactly the same
words before me; and therefore, though a little stale, they must be
true.
The hours flew as lightly at Emberton Park as if they had plucked all
the down from the wings of their good father Time, in order to furnish
their own soft pinions; and many of the days which intervened between
the signature of the bill for twenty-five thousand pounds, given by
Sir Sidney Delaware to Lord Ashborough, and the time when it wad to
become due, slipped away unnoticed. The worthy baronet suffered them
to pass with very great tranquillity, relying perfectly upon the word
of Mr. Tims, that the money would be ready at the appointed period. As
comfort and happiness, too, are far less loquacious qualities than
grief and anxiety, Sir Sidney thought it unnecessary to enter into any
further particulars with Burrel, than by merely thanking him, in
general terms, for the advice he had given; and by informing him that,
in consequence of his son's second journey to London, his affairs were
likely to be finally arranged in the course of a month or two. The
miser also suffering himself, for a certain time, to be governed by
his nephew--who well knew the only two strings which moved him like a
puppet, to be avarice and fear--did not attempt to give the young
stranger at Emberton any information of the events that had taken
place till long after Captain Delaware's return; and, within five days
of the time when the bill became due, Burrel, who had delayed his
promised visit to Dr. Wilton till he was almost ashamed to go at all,
rode over to his rectory to pass a couple of days with the worthy
clergyman, whom he found deep in all the unpleasant duties of his
magisterial capacity. William Delaware, also, more active, though less
clear-sighted than his father, allowed himself likewise to be deceived
by the assurance of Mr. Tims, that the money would be punctually
ready; and thus the days might have passed by unheeded by any one,
till the very moment that the money was required, had there not been
another person concerned, whose views demanded that Burrel's
twenty-five thousand pounds should not only be drawn for, but paid
into the hands of the miser at Ryebury.
This person, who was far more suspicious, and more on the alert than
any of the party, was no other than Mr. Burrell's silent servant,
Harding, who began to grow very uneasy at the delay which was taking
place. This uneasiness was increased after his arrival with his master
at Dr. Wilton's, inasmuch as, at the very moment of their coming, the
worthy clergyman was engaged in investigating some particulars in
regard to the fire that had taken place at Mrs. Darlington's, which
had given rise to considerable suspicions of some foul play. The
first, and perhaps the most important point, appeared to be, that of
the whole plate which that worthy lady's house contained, not one
ounce was to be found either fused or in its wrought state. In the
next place, two or three persons who had first taken the alarm at
Emberton, on the night of the fire, and had set out instantly to give
assistance, deposed positively to having met a man, to all appearance,
heavily laden, coming down the hill--which circumstance, considering
the time of night, was at least extraordinary. No one, however, could
identify this person; but from these facts, as well as from other
minor incidents, which it may be unnecessary to mention, it seemed
very clear that robbery had been committed during the progress of the
fire, if not before.
On their arrival at the rectory, both Burrel and his servant were
called upon by Dr. Wilton to state their recollections. Of the
evidence given by the first, the worthy clergyman took a private note,
but the servant was publicly examined. He gave a clear, calm statement
of all that he remembered, mentioned the situation of the room in
which he slept, declared that he had been woke by some sounds below,
and had shortly after perceived a strong smell of fire, which
increasing, he began to put on his clothes. Finding, however, that the
smoke was growing thicker, and that other people in the house seemed
alarmed, he had not staid to clothe himself completely, but had run
out; and, seeing that the house was on fire, had proceeded to call his
master. Mr. Burrel not moving as fast as he thought prudent, he said
he had left him, and got out of danger as fast as he could.
All this was delivered with amazing coolness and perspicuity; and Dr.
Wilton complimented him publicly on the clear and straightforward
manner in which he delivered his evidence. Nevertheless, there was
something in the whole business, which we--who see into the mechanism
of our people's hearts--conceive not to have been pleasing to the
silent servant, and he felt it absolutely necessary--according to his
own particular notions of benevolence--to remind his master, that the
twenty-five thousand pounds, which had been left idle, losing the
interest all the time, in the hands of Messrs. Steelyard and
Wilkinson, might soon be necessary to complete the charitable purpose
be entertained toward the family at Emberton.
To act remembrancer was not very easy, however, as his habitual
silence cut off a great deal of even that small gossip which usually
takes place between a man and his valet-de-chambre; but Harding was
not a person to be foiled, and what he could not do cunningly he
always did boldly.
It was on the second night, then, of their stay at the rectory, that,
while undressing his master, he began, after two or three preliminary
grunts, "I wish to ask your permission, sir,--if you are going to send
me to London--"
"Send you to London!" exclaimed Burrel; "I am not going to send you to
London. What put such a thing into your head?"
"Oh, I beg pardon, sir; I did not mean to offend!" replied Harding.
"But when you first sent me to Mr. Tims at Ryebury, he asked me a
great many questions about you, and told me that you were going to pay
off the incumbrances upon Sir Sidney Delaware's estate."
"Which, I suppose, you have been good enough to spread throughout the
village?" said Burrel, not a little angry.
"I have never opened my mouth upon the subject, sir, to a living
creature--upon my honor!" replied the man, with a solemnity of
asseveration that was very suspicious.
"And pray, how is all this connected with your going to London,
Harding?" demanded his master.
"Why, only, sir, as I hear the money is to be paid in three days, and
you did not speak of going up yourself, I thought you might be going
to send me for the sum," was the cool and self-complacent reply of the
worthy domestic.
"To be paid in three days!" exclaimed Burrel. "There must be some
mistake in that, surely?"
"Oh, no, sir, I can assure you!" replied the man, earnestly. "The last
time I was up at the Park, when I brought the horses to come over
here, I heard the captain saying so to Miss Delaware--and he said,
that he hoped that Tims would have the money ready, or it would be a
sad affair."
"Indeed!" said Burrel; "this must be looked to. But you misunderstand
your situation, Harding. You are a person very trustworthy, I have no
doubt; but I never send my servants for such sums as that you mention,
especially when they have not been with me three months. So now, you
may go--and when I want to send you to London, or elsewhere, I shall
be sure to inform you."
The servant accordingly retired, with a mortified and somewhat dogged
air; but, although he had not been entirely without hopes that his
master might indeed dispatch him for the money, yet his purpose was
sufficiently answered, to prevent him feeling deeply the
disappointment of expectations that had never been very sanguine.
The tidings Burrel had heard annoyed him considerably; for although a
doubt never crossed his mind in regard to the payment of the money
having been made by Lord Ashborough, it seemed so extraordinary that
Mr. Tims had not made him acquainted with the day of payment, that a
vague suspicion of something being wrong obtruded itself upon his
imagination, and kept him for some time from sleep.
"Which is my nearest way to a house called Ryebury, my dear sir?" was
one of Burrel's first questions to Dr. Wilton, at the breakfast-table,
next morning. "It belongs to an old miserly money-lender, named Tims."
"The way to the money-lender's, like all those that lead to
destruction, is wide enough," replied Dr. Wilton. "But I hope, my dear
Harry, you are not going to borrow money?"
"No, no, my dear sir!" answered Burrel, laughing. "Heaven knows what I
should do with it, if I did. Within the last six years, I am sorry and
ashamed to say, I have accumulated nearly five-and-twenty thousand
pounds."
"Fie, fie, that is almost as bad!" cried Dr. Wilton. "I would never
advise any man to live quite up to his income; for if he set out with
such a determination, he will most certainly live beyond it; but I
would recommend every man who has enough for himself and for those who
may come after him, to spend very nearly his whole income. We are but
stewards, my dear Harry! we are but stewards! and we are bound to
dispense the good things that are intrusted to us."
"And yet I have both heard you cry out against luxury," replied
Burrel, "and declare that indiscriminate gifts of money did more harm
than good."
"True, true!" replied Dr. Wilton. "I have done all that you say. But
there are thousands of eligible ways in this world by which a man may
discharge that duty to society imposed upon him by a large fortune,
without injuring his own mind, or enervating his own body by luxury.
How much may be done to promote the instruction of youth, to furnish
employment for the poor and industrious, to encourage arts and
sciences, to reward the manufacturer even for his toil and skill, and
the merchant for his risk and enterprise, without being the least
luxurious in one's own person. Ximenes walked through halls tapestried
with purple and gold, and yet lay down upon a bed of straw. Fie,
Harry, fie. It is a shame for any rich man to accumulate more wealth
while there is a poor man in all the land."
Burrel smiled at the lecture of his old tutor; not, indeed, because he
undervalued his precepts, but because he evidently saw that the lapse
of ten years had been skipped over in the good doctor's mind, and that
he himself stood there as much the pupil in the eyes of Dr. Wilton, as
ever he had been in his days of boyhood.
"Well, well, my dear sir!" he answered; "as some compensation for my
negligence hitherto, I think I shall find a means of spending this
twenty-five thousand pounds in such a manner as even your severe
philosophy will approve."
"Ah, Harry, I see you are laughing at your old pedagogue," said his
friend. "But never mind; if worthy Dominie Sampson--a character I
revere and love, although the dolts on the stage have degraded him
into a buffoon--if worthy Dominic Sampson boasted of having taught
little Harry Bertram the rudiments of erudition, I will boast of
having taught you, Harry Burrel, the rudiments of virtue.--So, mind
what you do; for every action you perform is my pride or my shame."
"Then I will try to make you a proud man," replied Burrel. "But I must
now leave you, my dear sir, and seek this money-lender, if you will
direct me thither."
"Well, well, whatever be your purpose, take care what you are about
with him," answered the doctor. "He is a wily knave. But I shall see
you again, ere you leave the country--which, if I judge right, will
not be soon"--and he fixed a gay glance upon Burrel's face, which
fully repaid the smile he had remarked. "Remember Harry," he added, "I
am to speak the blessing."
Burrel laughed, and shook Dr. Wilton's hand, and the worthy rector,
conducting him to the door, at which his horse stood prepared, pointed
out the direct road to Ryebury, which lay straight across the country,
at about six or seven miles distance.
Harding, at the same time, received orders to convey the little
baggage he had brought with him back to Emberton, and, that personage
internally congratulating himself with the words, "All is right!" as
he heard Dr. Wilton direct his master on the road to the miser's
dwelling, proceeded calmly to lay out his plans for that which he
considered as his _coup de maître_.
Burrel had no difficulty in finding his way; and at about eleven
o'clock he was standing before Mr. Tims's slate-colored door, enduring
the reconnoisance which master and maid always inflicted on those who
visited their dwelling. At length Sally appeared, and Mr. Burrel was
ushered into Mr. Tims's parlor, where the miser received him with as
much cordiality as was in his nature, having from one accidental
circumstance acquired a particular regard for his present visitor--a
fact in natural history which, perhaps, requires some explanation.
The simple truth, then, was merely this. On Burrel's first visit, the
miser, knowing him to be a man of large fortune, whom it might be well
to conciliate, had offered him a glass of ale; and then even went the
length of offering a glass of wine. Doing it--like most generous
people--with fear and trembling lest it should be accepted, he was
inexpressibly relieved by Burrel's declining both the expensive kinds
of refreshments that he offered. The matter sunk deep into his mind,
and at once created a fund of esteem and gratitude toward the
self-denying stranger, which was only augmented by the consciousness
that he himself always ate and drank that which was offered to him at
other houses, looking upon it all as a saving.
On the present occasion, as soon as Burrel entered, he again made the
offer of the ale, and would fain have offered the wine also; but there
was something within him which this time rendered it impossible. So
much was he of opinion, that the wine is the best which is drunk at
other people's expense, that he could not believe it possible that
Burrel would refuse it twice. While this struggle was going on in his
bosom, however, Burrel, who saw that he was somewhat agitated, and
never took into consideration the important question regarding the
glass of wine, imagined that Mr. Tims felt ashamed of not having given
him intimation of the state of Sir Sidney Delaware's affairs, and
proceeded to speak of them at once.
"You have done wrong, my good sir!" he said, "in not letting me know
that the money required for redeeming the annuity is to be produced so
soon. You did not consider that a day or two's notice may be necessary
in transactions to such an amount. However, it so luckily happens that
the money is ready."
"But, my dear sir--my dear sir!" cried Mr. Tims; "how could I give you
notice when you were out of the way? I called upon you twice, at no
small expense of shoe-leather."
Such, indeed, was the fact--that is to say, that he had called--and as
the internal economy of Mr. Tims's heart is not unworthy of
investigation, as a curious piece of hydraulic machinery, it may be
well to state what were the contending feelings which made the miser,
at last, act contrary to the directions of his dearly-beloved nephew.
In the first place, then, it would appear that, in regard to the
arrangements for the redemption of the annuity, a liberal commission
had been insured to him on the completion of the transaction, and
consequently he was a party interested. The injunctions, therefore, of
his nephew, to throw every quiet impediment in the way, to keep Mr.
Burrel in ignorance of the facts, and, if any thing should retard the
remittances which that gentleman expected, to refuse all assistance,
were clearly contrary to the general principles on which Mr. Tims
acted, namely, direct views of self-interest. To correct all this,
Lord Ashborough's lawyer had held out the prospect of his patron's
friendship on the one hand, and his wrath on the other, and had added
many vague promises of more golden rewards, to be procured by his
nepotal influence. But Mr. Peter Tims, although he had very little
family affection himself, forgot that his uncle possessed as little;
and though the only tie between Mr. Tims, senior, and the rest of the
world, existed in his nephew's person, yet the miser of Ryebury felt
that he could never be without friends or relations as long as there
were pounds, shillings, and pence in the world. Mr. Tims, junior, as I
have said, forgot all this, and forgot, too, that his uncle would be,
perhaps, less inclined to receive vague promises of compensation as
current coin from him than from any other individual; and, at the same
time, in order to show him how deeply Lord Ashborough was interested,
and how much it would behove him to reward the conduct he pointed out,
the lawyer committed the egregious blunder of letting the miser know
who the pretended Mr. Burrel really was.
The desire of making his own bargain instantly seized upon Mr. Tims of
Ryebury, and he at once wrote to Mr. Tims of Clement's Inn, with a
puzzling question, as to what was to be the specific _consideration_
for acting in the manner prescribed. The reply was not so definite as
he liked, and he immediately called at Mr. Burrel's lodgings, to
inform him of the time appointed for the payment of the redemption
money. His calculations, at the same time, were partly true and partly
incorrect, in regard to the probable advantages to be gained by
courting Burrel. No man ever did, or ever will, make a correct
calculation where self is one of the units. He is sure, by adding a
cipher to it, to multiply it by ten, in every shape and way, and thus
throw the whole computation wrong together. Mr. Burrel, or rather Mr.
Beauchamp, was heir to Lord Ashborough's title and estates, and likely
to outlive him by forty years; and therefore, thought Mr. Tims, is
likely to patronize me a thousandfold more than Lord Ashborough can.
But Mr. Tims forgot that if Henry Beauchamp was likely to outlive Lord
Ashborough, Lord Ashborough was fully as likely to outlive Mr. Tims.
These considerations, however, gave the miser a great leaning toward
Mr. Burrel in the whole business, though he was not without some
speculations in regard to catching all that he could from both
parties, if a way were to present itself. At present, he assured his
visitor that he had called upon him twice for the express purpose of
communicating with him on the subject of Sir Sidney Delaware's
affairs; but that, not having found him at home, he did not think fit
to leave any message, on so momentous a subject, with either the woman
of the house or the groom, who were the only personages he saw.
"Well, well, sir!" replied Burrel. "The question now before us is
simply, how we are now to proceed? Must I go to London to receive this
money, and bring it down?"
"Why, I should think that would be an expensive way, sir," replied the
miser. "Forty shillings going and forty shillings coming, and
eighteenpence to the coachman each way, makes four pound three; and
then you may well calculate three shillings more for food and extras,
going and coming, making four pounds six. Then you would not like to
carry such a sum about you; so that you would be obliged to do it by
draft, therefore the stamp would not be saved; and I am always for
saving the money of my clients--it is the duty of an honest man. No,
no, sir! I think you had better draw a letter of credit in my favor,
on your agents, and I will direct them to lodge the money in the hands
of the London correspondents of our county bank, of which I am one of
the poorest proprietors. I will give you an acknowledgment in form for
the letter of credit, which, being duly satisfied, I will give you a
receipt in full, with a lien upon the mortgage from Sir Sidney
Delaware, as I settled before with Messrs. Steelyard and Wilkinson."
"But can all this be done in time, Mr. Tims?" demanded Burrel.
"Oh, no fear, no fear," replied the miser. "This is but the
twenty-first. We can get the letter off to-day. The bills given by Sir
Sidney do not come due till the twenty-fourth; and we can easily have
notice of the money being lodged by the twenty-third in the afternoon,
when the post comes in."
Burrel mused a moment. He saw no objection; but yet he thought it
might be safer to go himself. He mused again; but then he thought
of Blanche Delaware, and that he had not seen her for two whole
days--that settled the matter in his mind. There could be no possible
obstacle, he persuaded himself, in London--therefore, neither pleasure
nor necessity called him thither: one of those two great motives
chained him to Emberton, and therefore he determined to stay.
The miser agreed immediately to join him at his lodgings in the little
town, where all that was necessary for completing the business was to
be procured more easily. Burrel rode off; Mr. Tims reached Emberton in
half an hour; the letter was drawn; another written by Mr. Tims to his
London bankers; the whole were put in the post; and Burrel, after
dining alone, sauntered slowly and happily up the park, to take his
tea in the little octagon parlor of Emberton House.
He was received with those sparkling eyes which left no doubt that he
was welcome; the next day also passed in happiness; and Burrel,
somewhat too sure, perhaps, of success, fixed in his own mind, as he
strolled homeward, that the morning which saw Sir Sidney Delaware
freed from a part of his difficulties by his exertions, should also
see the declaration of his love to her who had inspired it.