GOOD ADVICE.
Two or three days after the little request made by Cousin George to
Mrs. Morton, the Altringhams came suddenly to town. George received a
note from Lady Altringham addressed to him at his club.
We are going through to the Draytons in Hampshire. It
is a new freak. Four or five horses are to be sold, and
Gustavus thinks of buying the lot. If you are in town,
come to us. You must not think that we are slack about you
because Gustavus would have nothing to do with the money.
He will be at home to-morrow till eleven. I shall not go
out till two. We leave on Thursday.--Yours, A. A.
This letter he received on the Wednesday. Up to that hour he had done
nothing since his interview with Mr. Hart; nor during those few days
did he hear from that gentleman, or from Captain Stubber, or from Mr.
Boltby. He had written to Sir Harry refusing Sir Harry's generous
offer, and subsequently to that had made up his mind to accept
it,--and had asked, as the reader knows, for Mrs. Morton's
assistance. But the making up of George Hotspur's mind was nothing.
It was unmade again that day after dinner, as he thought of all the
glories of Humblethwaite and Scarrowby combined. Any one knowing
him would have been sure that he would do nothing till he should be
further driven. Now there had come upon the scene in London one who
could drive him.
He went to the Earl's house just at eleven, not wishing to seem to
avoid the Earl, but still desirous of seeing as little of his friend
on that occasion as possible. He found Lord Altringham standing in
his wife's morning-room. "How are you, old fellow? How do things go
with the heiress?" He was in excellent humour, and said nothing about
the refused request. "I must be off. You do what my Lady advises; you
may be sure that she knows a deal more about it than you or I." Then
he went, wishing George success in his usual friendly, genial way,
which, as George knew, meant very little.
With Lady Altringham the case was different. She was in earnest about
it. It was to her a matter of real moment that this great heiress
should marry one of her own set, and a man who wanted money so
badly as did poor George. And she liked work of that kind. George's
matrimonial prospects were more interesting to her than her husband's
stables. She was very soon in the thick of it all, asking questions,
and finding out how the land lay. She knew that George would lie; but
that was to be expected from a man in his position. She knew also
that she could with fair accuracy extract the truth from his lies.
"Pay all your debts, and give you five hundred pounds a year for his
life."
"The lawyer has offered that," said George, sadly.
"Then you may be sure," continued Lady Altringham, "that the young
lady is in earnest. You have not accepted it?"
"Oh dear, no. I wrote to Sir Harry quite angrily. I told him I wanted
my cousin's hand."
"And what next?"
"I have heard nothing further from anybody."
Lady Altringham sat and thought. "Are these people in London
bothering you?" George explained that he had been bothered a good
deal, but not for the last four or five days. "Can they put you in
prison, or anything of that kind?"
George was not quite sure whether they might or might not have some
such power. He had a dreadful weight on his mind of which he could
say nothing to Lady Altringham. Even she would be repelled from
him were she to know of that evening's work between him and Messrs.
Walker and Bullbean. He said at last that he did not think they could
arrest him, but that he was not quite sure.
"You must do something to let her know that you are as much in
earnest as she is."
"Exactly."
"It is no use writing, because she wouldn't get your letters."
"She wouldn't have a chance."
"And if I understand her she would not do anything secretly."
"I am afraid not," said George.
"You will live, perhaps, to be glad that it is so. When girls
come out to meet their lovers clandestinely before marriage, they
get so fond of the excitement that they sometimes go on doing it
afterwards."
"She is as,--as--as sure to go the right side of the post as any girl
in the world."
"No doubt. So much the better for you. When those girls do catch the
disease, they always have it very badly. They mean only to have one
affair, and naturally want to make the most of it. Well, now what I
would do is this. Run down to Humblethwaite."
"To Humblethwaite!"
"Yes. I don't suppose you are going to be afraid of anybody. Knock
at the door, and send your card to Sir Harry. Drive into the
stable-yard, so that everybody about the place may know that you are
there, and then ask to see the Baronet."
"He wouldn't see me."
"Then ask to see Lady Elizabeth."
"She wouldn't be allowed to see me."
"Then leave a letter, and say that you'll wait for an answer. Write
to Miss Hotspur whatever you like to say in the way of a love-letter,
and put it under cover to Sir Harry--open."
"She'll never get it."
"I don't suppose she will. Not but what she may--only that isn't the
first object. But this will come of it. She'll know that you've been
there. That can't be kept from her. You may be sure that she was very
firm in sticking to you when he offered to pay all that money to get
rid of you. She'll remain firm if she's made to know that you are the
same. Don't let her love die out for want of notice."
"I won't."
"If they take her abroad, go after them. Stick to it, and you'll wear
them out if she helps you. And if she knows that you are sticking to
it, she'll do the same for honour. When she begins to be a little
pale, and to walk out at nights, and to cough in the morning, they'll
be tired out and send for Dr. George Hotspur. That's the way it will
go if you play your game well."
Cousin George was lost in admiration at the wisdom and generalship of
this great counsellor, and promised implicit obedience. The Countess
went on to explain that it might be expedient to postpone this
movement for a week or two. "You should leave just a little interval,
because you cannot always be doing something. For some days after his
return her father won't cease to abuse you, which will keep you well
in her mind. When those men begin to attack you again, so as to make
London too hot, then run down to Humblethwaite. Don't hide your light
under a bushel. Let the people down there know all about it."
George Hotspur swore eternal gratitude and implicit obedience, and
went back to his club.
Mr. Hart and Captain Stubber did not give him much rest. From Mr.
Boltby he received no further communication. For the present Mr.
Boltby thought it well to leave him in the hands of Mr. Hart and
Captain Stubber. Mr. Boltby, indeed, did not as yet know of Mr.
Bullbean's story, although certain hints had reached him which had,
as he thought, justified him in adding the title of card-sharper to
those other titles with which he had decorated his client's cousin's
name. Had he known the entire Walker story, he would probably have
thought that Cousin George might have been bought at a considerably
cheaper price than that fixed in the Baronet's offer, which was
still in force. But then Mr. Hart had his little doubts also and his
difficulties. He, too, could perceive that were he to make this last
little work of Captain Hotspur's common property in the market, it
might so far sink Captain Hotspur's condition and value in the world
that nobody would think it worth his while to pay Captain Hotspur's
debts. At present there was a proposition from an old gentleman,
possessed of enormous wealth, to "pay all Captain Hotspur's debts."
Three months ago, Mr. Hart would willingly have sold every scrap
of the Captain's paper in his possession for the half of the
sum inscribed on it. The whole sum was now promised, and would
undoubtedly be paid if the Captain could be worked upon to do as
Mr. Boltby desired. But if the gentlemen employed on this delicate
business were to blow upon the Captain too severely, Mr. Boltby would
have no such absolute necessity to purchase the Captain. The Captain
would sink to zero, and not need purchasing. Mr. Walker must have
back his money,--or so much of it as Mr. Hart might permit him
to take. That probably might be managed; and the Captain must be
thoroughly frightened, and must be made to write the letter which Mr.
Boltby desired. Mr. Hart understood his work very well;--so, it is
hoped, does the reader.
Captain Stubber was in these days a thorn in our hero's side; but Mr.
Hart was a scourge of scorpions. Mr. Hart never ceased to talk of Mr.
Walker, and of the determination of Walker and Bullbean to go before
a magistrate if restitution were not made. Cousin George of course
denied the foul play, but admitted that he would repay the money if
he had it. There should be no difficulty about the money, Mr. Hart
assured him, if he would only write that letter to Mr. Boltby. In
fact, if he would write that letter to Mr. Boltby, he should be made
"shquare all round." So Mr. Hart was pleased to express himself. But
if this were not done, and done at once, Mr. Hart swore by his God
that Captain "'Oshspur" should be sold up, root and branch, without
another day's mercy. The choice was between five hundred pounds a
year in any of the capitals of Europe, and that without a debt,--or
penal servitude. That was the pleasant form in which Mr. Hart put the
matter to his young friend.
Cousin George drank a good deal of curaçoa, and doubted between Lady
Altringham and Mr. Hart. He knew that he had not told everything to
the Countess. Excellent as was her scheme, perfect as was her wisdom,
her advice was so far more dangerous than the Jew's, that it was
given somewhat in the dark. The Jew knew pretty well everything. The
Jew was interested, of course, and therefore his advice must also be
regarded with suspicion. At last, when Mr. Hart and Captain Stubber
between them had made London too hot to hold him, he started for
Humblethwaite,--not without leaving a note for "dear Mr. Hart,"
in which he explained to that gentleman that he was going to
Westmoreland suddenly, with a purpose that would, he trusted, very
speedily enable him to pay every shilling that he owed.
"Yesh," said Mr. Hart, "and if he ain't quick he shall come back with
a 'andcuff on."
Captain Hotspur could not very well escape Mr. Hart. He started by
the night-train for Penrith, and before doing so prepared a short
letter for Miss Hotspur, which, as instructed, he put open under
an envelope addressed to the Baronet. There should be nothing
clandestine, nothing dishonourable. Oh dear, no! He quite taught
himself to believe that he would have hated anything dishonourable or
clandestine. His letter was as follows:--
DEAREST EMILY,--After what has passed between us, I cannot
bear not to attempt to see you or to write to you. So
I shall go down and take this letter with me. Of course
I shall not take any steps of which Sir Harry might
disapprove. I wrote to him two or three weeks ago, telling
him what I proposed, and I thought that he would have
answered me. As I have not heard from him I shall take
this with me to Humblethwaite, and shall hope, though I do
not know whether I may dare to expect, to see the girl I
love better than all the world.--Always your own,
GEORGE HOTSPUR.
Even this was not composed by himself, for Cousin George, though
he could often talk well,--or at least sufficiently well for the
purposes which he had on hand,--was not good with his pen on such an
occasion as this. Lady Altringham had sent him by post a rough copy
of what he had better say, and he had copied her ladyship's words
verbatim. There is no matter of doubt at all but that on all such
subjects an average woman can write a better letter than an average
man; and Cousin George was therefore right to obtain assistance from
his female friends.
He slept at Penrith till nearly noon, then breakfasted and started
with post-horses for Humblethwaite. He felt that everybody knew what
he was about, and was almost ashamed of being seen. Nevertheless he
obeyed his instructions. He had himself driven up through the lodges
and across the park into the large stable-yard of the Hall. Lady
Altringham had quite understood that more people must see and hear
him in this way than if he merely rang at the front door and were
from thence dismissed. The grooms and the coachman saw him, as did
also three or four of the maids who were in the habit of watching to
see that the grooms and coachman did their work. He had brought with
him a travelling-bag,--not expecting to be asked to stay and dine,
but thinking it well to be prepared. This, however, he left in the
fly as he walked round to the hall-door. The footman was already
there when he appeared, as word had gone through the house that
Mr. George had arrived. Was Sir Harry at home? Yes, Sir Harry was
at home;--and then George found himself in a small parlour, or
book-room, or subsidiary library, which he had very rarely known to
be used. But there was a fire in the room, and he stood before it,
twiddling his hat.
In a quarter of an hour the door was opened, and the servant came
in with a tray and wine and sandwiches. George felt it to be an
inappropriate welcome; but still, after a fashion, it was a welcome.
"Is Sir Harry in the house?" he asked.
"Yes, Mr. Hotspur."
"Does he know that I am here?"
"Yes, Mr. Hotspur, I think he does."
Then it occurred to Cousin George that perhaps he might bribe the
servant; and he put his hand into his pocket. But before he had
communicated the two half-crowns, it struck him that there was no
possible request which he could make to the man in reference to which
a bribe would be serviceable.
"Just ask them to look to the horses," he said; "I don't know whether
they were taken out."
"The horses is feeding, Mr. Hotspur," said the man.
Every word the man spoke was gravely spoken, and George understood
perfectly that he was held to have done a very wicked thing in coming
to Humblethwaite. Nevertheless, there was a decanter full of sherry,
which, as far as it went, was an emblem of kindness. Nobody should
say that he was unwilling to accept kindness at his cousin's hands,
and he helped himself liberally. Before he was interrupted again he
had filled his glass four times.
But in truth it needed something to support him. For a whole hour
after the servant's disappearance he was left alone. There were books
in the room,--hundreds of them; but in such circumstances who could
read? Certainly not Cousin George, to whom books at no time gave much
comfort. Twice and thrice he stepped towards the bell, intending to
ring it, and ask again for Sir Harry; but twice and thrice he paused.
In his position he was bound not to give offence to Sir Harry. At
last the door was opened, and with silent step, and grave demeanour,
and solemn countenance, Lady Elizabeth walked into the room. "We are
very sorry that you should have been kept so long waiting, Captain
Hotspur," she said.