GEORGE HOTSPUR YIELDS.
On the morning of Cousin George's fourth day at Humblethwaite, there
came a letter for Sir Harry. The post reached the Hall about an hour
before the time at which the family met for prayers, and the letters
were taken into Sir Harry's room. The special letter of which mention
is here made shall be given to the reader entire:--
----, Lincoln's Inn Fields,
24th Nov. 186--.
MY DEAR SIR HARRY HOTSPUR,--I have received your letter
in reference to Captain Hotspur's debts, and have also
received a letter from him, and a list of what he says he
owes. Of course there can be no difficulty in paying all
debts which he acknowledges, if you think proper to do so.
As far as I am able to judge at present, the amount would
be between twenty-five and thirty thousand pounds. I
should say nearer the former than the latter sum, did
I not know that the amount in such matters always goes
on increasing. You must also understand that I cannot
guarantee the correctness of this statement.
But I feel myself bound in my duty to go further
than this, even though it may be at the risk of your
displeasure. I presume from what you tell me that you are
contemplating a marriage between George Hotspur and your
daughter; and I now repeat to you, in the most solemn
words that I can use, my assurance that the marriage is
one which you should not countenance. Captain Hotspur is
not fit to marry your daughter.
When Sir Harry had read so far he had become very angry, but his
anger was now directed against his lawyer. Had he not told Mr. Boltby
that he had changed his mind; and what business had the lawyer to
interfere with him further? But he read the letter on to its bitter
end:--
Since you were in London the following facts have become
known to me. On the second of last month Mr. George
Hotspur met two men, named Walker and Bullbean, in the
lodgings of the former, at about nine in the evening,
and remained there during the greater part of the night,
playing cards. Bullbean is a man well known to the police
as a card-sharper. He once moved in the world as a
gentleman. His trade is now to tout and find prey for
gamblers. Walker is a young man in a low rank of life, who
had some money. George Hotspur on that night won between
three and four hundred pounds of Walker's money; and
Bullbean, over and above this, got for himself some
considerable amount of plunder. Walker is now prepared,
and very urgent, to bring the circumstances of this case
before a magistrate, having found out, or been informed,
that some practice of cheating was used against him; and
Bullbean is ready to give evidence as to George Hotspur's
foul play. They have hitherto been restrained by Hart, the
Jew whom you met. Hart fears that were the whole thing
made public, his bills would not be taken up by you.
I think that I know all this to be true. If you conceive
that I am acting in a manner inimical to your family, you
had better come up to London and put yourself into the
hands of some other lawyer. If you can still trust me, I
will do the best I can for you. I should recommend you to
bring Captain Hotspur with you,--if he will come.
I grieve to write as I have done, but it seems to me that
no sacrifice is too great to make with the object of
averting the fate to which, as I fear, Miss Hotspur is
bringing herself.--My dear Sir Harry Hotspur, I am, very
faithfully yours,
JOHN BOLTBY.
It was a terrible letter! Gradually, as he read it and re-read it,
there came upon Sir Harry the feeling that he might owe, that he did
owe, that he certainly would owe to Mr. Boltby a very heavy debt
of gratitude. Gradually the thin glazing of hope with which he had
managed to daub over and partly to hide his own settled convictions
as to his cousin's character fell away, and he saw the man as he had
seen him during his interview with Captain Stubber and Mr. Hart. It
must be so. Let the consequences be what they might, his daughter
must be told. Were she to be killed by the telling, it would be
better than that she should be handed over to such a man as this. The
misfortune which had come upon them might be the death of him and of
her;--but better that than the other. He sat in his chair till the
gong sounded through the house for prayers; then he rang his bell
and sent in word to Lady Elizabeth that she should read them in
his absence. When they were over, word was brought that he would
breakfast alone, in his own room. On receiving that message, both his
wife and daughter went to him; but as yet he could tell them nothing.
Tidings had come which would make it necessary that he should go at
once to London. As soon as breakfast should be over he would see
George Hotspur. They both knew from the tone in which the name was
pronounced that the "tidings" were of their nature bad, and that they
had reference to the sins of their guest.
"You had better read that letter," he said as soon as George was in
the room. As he spoke his face was towards the fire, and in that
position he remained. The letter had been in his hand, and he only
half turned round to give it. George read the letter slowly, and when
he had got through it, only half understanding the words, but still
knowing well the charge which it contained, stood silent, utterly
conquered. "I suppose it is true?" said Sir Harry, in a low voice,
facing his enemy.
"I did win some money," said Cousin George.
"And you cheated?"
"Oh dear no;--nothing of the sort."
But his confession was written in his face, and was heard in his
voice, and peeped out through every motion of his limbs. He was a
cur, and denied the accusation in a currish manner, hardly intended
to create belief.
"He must be paid back his money," said Sir Harry.
"I had promised that," said Cousin George.
"Has it been your practice, sir, when gambling, to pay back money
that you have won? You are a scoundrel,--a heartless scoundrel,--to
try and make your way into my house when I had made such liberal
offers to buy your absence." To this Cousin George made no sort of
answer. The game was up. And had he not already told himself that
it was a game that he should never have attempted to play? "We will
leave this house if you please, both of us, at eleven. We will go to
town together. The carriage will be ready at eleven. You had better
see to the packing of your things, with the servant."
"Shall I not say a word of adieu to Lady Elizabeth?"
"No, sir! You shall never speak to a female in my house again."
The two were driven over to Penrith together, and went up to London
in the same carriage, Sir Harry paying for all expenses without a
word. Sir Harry before he left his house saw his wife for a moment,
but he did not see his daughter. "Tell her," said he, "that it must
be,--must be all over." The decision was told to Emily, but she
simply refused to accept it. "It shall not be so," said she, flashing
out. Lady Elizabeth endeavoured to show her that her father had done
all he could to further her views--had been ready to sacrifice to her
all his own wishes and convictions.
"Why is he so changed? He has heard of some new debt. Of course there
are debts. We did not suppose that it could be done all at once, and
so easily." She refused to be comforted, and refused to believe.
She sat alone weeping in her own room, and swore, when her mother
came to her, that no consideration, no tidings as to George's past
misconduct, should induce her to break her faith to the man to whom
her word had been given;--"my word, and Papa's, and yours," said
Emily, pleading her cause with majesty through her tears.
On the day but one following there came a letter from Sir Harry to
Lady Elizabeth, very short, but telling her the whole truth. "He has
cheated like a common low swindler as he is, with studied tricks at
cards, robbing a poor man, altogether beneath him in station, of
hundreds of pounds. There is no doubt about it. It is uncertain even
yet whether he will not be tried before a jury. He hardly even denies
it. A creature viler, more cowardly, worse, the mind of man cannot
conceive. My broken-hearted, dearest, best darling must be told
all this. Tell her that I know what she will suffer. Tell her that
I shall be as crushed by it as she. But anything is better than
degradation such as this. Tell her specially that I have not decided
without absolute knowledge." Emily was told. The letter was read to
her and by her till she knew it almost by heart. There came upon
her a wan look of abject agony, that seemed to rob her at once of
her youth and beauty; but even now she would not yield. She did
not longer affect to disbelieve the tidings, but said that no man,
let him do what he might, could be too far gone for repentance and
forgiveness. She would wait. She had talked of waiting two years. She
would be content to wait ten. What though he had cheated at cards!
Had she not once told her mother that should it turn out that he had
been a murderer, then she would become a murderer's wife? She did not
know that cheating at cards was worse than betting at horse-races. It
was all bad,--very bad. It was the kind of life into which men were
led by the fault of those who should have taught them better. No;
she would not marry him without her father's leave: but she would
never own that her engagement was broken, let them affix what most
opprobrious name to him they might choose. To her card-sharpers
seemed to be no worse than gamblers. She was quite sure that Christ
had come to save men who cheat at cards as well as others.
As Sir Harry and his cousin entered the London station late at
night,--it was past midnight,--Sir Harry bade his companion meet him
the next morning at Mr. Boltby's chambers at eleven. Cousin George
had had ample time for meditation, and had considered that it might
be best for him to "cut up a little rough."
"Mr. Boltby is my enemy," he said, "and I don't know what I am to get
by going there."
"If you don't, sir, I'll not pay one shilling for you."
"I have your promise, Sir Harry."
"If you are not there at the time I fix, I will pay nothing, and the
name may go to the dogs."
Then they both went to the station hotel,--not together, but the
younger following the elder's feet,--and slept for the last time in
their lives under one roof.
Cousin George did not show himself at Mr. Boltby's, being still in
his bed at the station hotel at the time named; but at three o'clock
he was with Mrs. Morton.
For the present we will go back to Sir Harry. He was at the lawyer's
chambers at the time named, and Mr. Boltby smiled when told of the
summons which had been given to Cousin George. By this time Sir Harry
had acknowledged his gratitude to Mr. Boltby over and over again, and
Mr. Boltby perhaps, having no daughter, thought that the evil had
been cured. He was almost inclined to be jocular, and did laugh at
Sir Harry in a mild way when told of the threat.
"We must pay his debts, Sir Harry, I think."
"I don't see it at all. I would rather face everything. And I told
him that I would pay nothing."
"Ah, but you had told him that you would. And then those cormorants
have been told so also. We had better build a bridge of gold for
a falling enemy. Stick to your former proposition, without any
reference to a legacy, and make him write the letter. My clerk shall
find him to-morrow."
Sir Harry at last gave way; the lucky Walker received back his full
money, Bullbean's wages of iniquity and all; and Sir Harry returned
to Humblethwaite.
Cousin George was sitting in Mrs. Morton's room with a very bad
headache five days after his arrival in London, and she was reading
over a manuscript which she had just written. "That will do, I
think," she said.
"Just the thing," said he, without raising his head.
"Will you copy it now, George?"
"Not just now, I am so seedy. I'll take it and do it at the club."
"No; I will not have that. The draft would certainly be left out on
the club table; and you would go to billiards, and the letter never
would be written."
"I'll come back and do it after dinner."
"I shall be at the theatre then, and I won't have you here in my
absence. Rouse yourself and do it now. Don't be such a poor thing."
"That's all very well, Lucy; but if you had a sick headache, you
wouldn't like to have to write a d----d letter like that."
Then she rose up to scold him, being determined that the letter
should be written then and there. "Why, what a coward you are; what a
feckless, useless creature! Do you think that I have never to go for
hours on the stage, with the gas in a blaze around me, and my head
ready to split? And what is this? A paper to write that will take you
ten minutes. The truth is, you don't like to give up the girl!" Could
she believe it of him after knowing him so well; could she think that
there was so much of good in him?
"You say that to annoy me. You know that I never cared for her."
"You would marry her now if they would let you."
"No, by George. I've had enough of that. You're wide awake enough to
understand, Lucy, that a fellow situated as I am, over head and ears
in debt, and heir to an old title, should struggle to keep the things
together. Families and names don't matter much, I suppose; but, after
all, one does care for them. But I've had enough of that. As for
Cousin Emily, you know, Lucy, I never loved any woman but you in my
life."
He was a brute, unredeemed by any one manly gift; idle,
self-indulgent, false, and without a principle. She was a woman
greatly gifted, with many virtues, capable of self-sacrifice,
industrious, affectionate, and loving truth if not always true
herself. And yet such a word as that from this brute sufficed to
please her for the moment. She got up and kissed his forehead and
dropped for him some strong spirit in a glass, which she mixed with
water, and cooled his brow with eau-de-cologne. "Try to write it,
dearest. It should be written at once if it is to be written." Then
he turned himself wearily to her writing-desk, and copied the words
which she had prepared for him.
The letter was addressed to Mr. Boltby, and purported to be
a renunciation of all claim to Miss Hotspur's hand, on the
understanding that his debts were paid for him to the extent of
£25,000, and that an allowance were made to him of £500 a year,
settled on him as an annuity for life, as long as he should live out
of England. Mr. Boltby had given him to understand that this clause
would not be exacted, unless circumstances should arise which should
make Sir Harry think it imperative upon him to demand its execution.
The discretion must be left absolute with Sir Harry; but, as Mr.
Boltby said, Captain Hotspur could trust Sir Harry's word and his
honour.
"If I'm to be made to go abroad, what the devil are you to do?" he
had said to Mrs. Morton.
"There need be no circumstances," said Mrs. Morton, "to make it
necessary."
Of course Captain Hotspur accepted the terms on her advice. He had
obeyed Lady Altringham, and had tried to obey Emily, and would now
obey Mrs. Morton, because Mrs. Morton was the nearest to him.
The letter which he copied was a well-written letter, put together
with much taste, so that the ignoble compact to which it gave assent
should seem to be as little ignoble as might be possible. "I entered
into the arrangement," the letter said in its last paragraph,
"because I thought it right to endeavour to keep the property and the
title together; but I am aware now that my position in regard to my
debts was of a nature that should have deterred me from the attempt.
As I have failed, I sincerely hope that my cousin may be made happy
by some such splendid alliance as she is fully entitled to expect."
He did not understand all that the words conveyed; but yet he
questioned them. He did not perceive that they were intended to imply
that the writer had never for a moment loved the girl whom he had
proposed to marry. Nevertheless they did convey to him dimly some
idea that they might give,--not pain, for as to that he would have
been indifferent,--but offence. "Will there be any good in all that?"
he asked.
"Certainly," said she. "You don't mean to whine and talk of your
broken heart."
"Oh dear, no; nothing of that sort."
"This is the manly way to put it, regarding the matter simply as an
affair of business."
"I believe it is," said he; and then, having picked himself up
somewhat by the aid of a glass of sherry, he continued to copy the
letter, and to direct it.
"I will keep the rough draft," said Mrs. Morton.
"And I must go now, I suppose," he said.
"You can stay here and see me eat my dinner if you like. I shall not
ask you to share it, because it consists of two small mutton chops,
and one wouldn't keep me up through Lady Teazle."
"I've a good mind to come and see you," said he.
"Then you'd better go and eat your own dinner at once."
"I don't care about my dinner. I should have a bit of supper
afterwards."
Then she preached to him a sermon; not quite such a one as Emily
Hotspur had preached, but much more practical, and with less
reticence. If he went on living as he was living now, he would "come
to grief." He was drinking every day, and would some day find that he
could not do so with impunity. Did he know what delirium tremens was?
Did he want to go to the devil altogether? Had he any hope as to his
future life?
"Yes," said he, "I hope to make you my wife." She tossed her head,
and told him that with all the will in the world to sacrifice
herself, such sacrifice could do him no good if he persisted in
making himself a drunkard. "But I have been so tried these last two
months. If you only knew what Mr. Boltby and Captain Stubber and Sir
Harry and Mr. Hart were altogether. Oh, my G----!" But he did not
say a word about Messrs. Walker and Bullbean. The poor woman who was
helping him knew nothing of Walker and Bullbean. Let us hope that she
may remain in that ignorance.
Cousin George, before he left her, swore that he would amend his mode
of life, but he did not go to see Lady Teazle that night. There were
plenty of men now back in town ready to play pool at the club.