Vernon Wycherley, in spite of all his late perils, enjoyed a good
night's rest, and on awakening about daylight on the following morning,
he found that, barring a little pain and a great deal of stiffness about
his sprained wrist and bruised leg, combined with slight soreness all
over, he was not much the worse for his accident, and so he told Frank,
who just at that very moment had popped his head into the room to see
how he was getting on.
"And really, friend Frank," observed the patient, "I ought to be
thankful for the snug quarters I've fallen into, as well as for my
providential and almost miraculous escape."
"Which," interrupted Frank, "your medical friends here say you must at
present think as little about as you can, and not talk about at all."
"Well, well, old fellow, their advice is doubtless very good; but it
shall not for all that prevent my indulging in feelings of thankfulness
to heaven for my deliverance."
"Not an uncomfortable room this," observed Frank, looking around it.
"Can any thing convey an air of greater comfort?" said Vernon. "There's
a look of cheerful cleanliness about it that's quite delightful; and as
for the bed, I never rested my wearied limbs before on one I liked
better."
"Ay," said Frank, "and all through the house, from attic to cellar, I'll
venture to say you'll find things just the same."
"Why, you can scarcely have had sufficient time or opportunity to
ascertain that yet, I should imagine," observed Vernon; "for, with all
the modest assurance with which you are so superabundantly blessed, you
can't have already been paul-prying, and poking that impudent nose of
yours into every hole and corner of it."
"Certainly not," answered Frank, "but I've seen quite enough to form a
pretty accurate judgment that the bulk will tally with the sample--a
conclusion I can arrive at without the aid of my nasal organ. A fact may
be ascertained without one's poking their nose to the bottom of it--a
very unsatisfactory, as well as uncertain, mode of proceeding, take my
word for it. Why, I wouldn't undertake to ascertain even the height or
depth of a molehill by so uncertain a process."
"And will you never forget that unlucky blunder of mine?" asked Mr
Vernon Wycherley.
"Never, I promise you," replied Frank.
"Well, then, if you can't forget it, I suppose you can cease talking
about it; and, by way of a more pleasing subject, suppose you tell me
something about the people here--the old gentleman, the only member of
the family I've yet seen, appears to possess a very host of
good-nature."
"And a very good-natured host he has proved," interrupted Frank.
"That's right," said Vernon;--"very well for you; so book it, to tell
again, and make the most of it."
"I shall do no such thing," rejoined Frank, "as no words I can employ
would do justice to our honest entertainer, who is without exception the
happiest and merriest little fellow I ever met with, possessing a
countenance full of mirth and good-humour, and a heart overflowing with
benevolence--a downright hearty good fellow, a thorough trump--a regular
brick, and no mistake at all about the matter, as our little friend,
Major Rodd, would say. And I say, Vernon, you've no idea what a
delightful evening I spent after I'd tuck'd you in for the night. I
never in my life met so entertaining a man before--a mere glimpse of his
good-natured face is sufficient to drive away a very legion of
blue-devils, although, by the by, those are fiends that never haunt me;
and then we had a famous spread by way of supper--jugged hare--a
woodcock--the first I've yet seen for the season--and lots of snipes."
"All of which, I dare say, you did ample justice to," interposed Mr
Vernon Wycherley.
"More than justice, friend Vernon--more than justice; for I ate the best
portion of the woodcock, in addition to a fair allowance of the jugged
hare I'd taken before--and then finished off with the snipes--the whole
being accompanied with some excellent home-brewed ale."
"Well, enough about the supper; but tell me, was there nobody but
yourself and the squire to partake of it?"
"Oh yes! the doctor staid to supper, but was obliged to start and visit
a patient who had sent for him, which compelled him to commence a five
miles' ride ere he had well time to finish his meal."
"You saw no ladies, then?"
"Yes, but I did though--that is, I saw the lady of the house; and much
as I liked master, I don't know but I liked mistress more--such a dear,
kind-hearted creature--and so good-looking, Vernon--one of the sort that
would never look old, or grow ugly, even if she lived to the age of
Methusalem. And her fondness for her old man is quite delightful--none
of your my-dearing or my-loving nonsense, or anxiety about every thing
he likes to eat and drink disagreeing with him; but good, downright,
honest, hearty affection, which was beautifully displayed in the happy
smile with which she regarded the old fellow, and witnessed how truly he
seemed to be enjoying himself. That's what I'd recommend all wives to do
who wish to preserve their good looks. A woman's beauty depends so much
upon expression, that if that's spoilt, farewell to all her charms, and
which nothing tends more to bring about than a countenance soured with
imaginary cares, instead of lighted up with thankfulness for innumerable
blessings--that's what makes half the women wither away into wrinkles so
early in life; whilst nothing renders their beauty so lasting as that
placid look of pure benevolence, which emanates from a heart full of
thankfulness to God--affection for those nearest and dearest to them,
and good-will towards all mankind."
"Thank ye, Frank--thank ye for these pretty little sentiments--very good
remarks, certainly, and true; but I think you'd better keep them to
bestow upon the future Mrs Trevelyan; I dare say you may find them
useful then. And now, have you any further news to tell me this
morning?"
"Yes, I believe I have. I was just going to tell you about the fair
ladies we met on the downs yesterday; but I've a great mind not to do
so."
"Eh? what? where?" interrupted Vernon. "Oh! do tell me--have you seen
them?"
"No," answered Frank demurely, "I haven't seen even the shadow of their
petticoats."
"Is this Squire Potts', then? eh!"
"Not impossible," rejoined Frank with most provoking coolness; "at
least," he continued, "I know nothing to the contrary, for never having
heard our worthy squire's cognomen, I see no reason why he may not be
called Potts as well as any thing else."
"Pshaw," said Vernon impatiently, "and is that all you have to tell me?
I really fancied you had heard or seen something."
"And so I have," rejoined Frank.
"Whom, then? eh! Do tell me!" demanded Vernon, eagerly.
"Timothy," replied Frank.
"Timothy!" reiterated the poet.
"Ay, Timothy, to be sure; what d'ye think of that, Mr Vernon Wycherley?"
"Why, it leads me to hope," replied that gentleman, "that we may meet
the ladies themselves ere long, or"--
No _or_ in the matter," interrupted Frank; "I've made up my mind to meet
them both at breakfast this very morning; and no mistake, as our gallant
little friend the major says--for I'm pretty certain those lovely birds
of paradise roosted last night somewhere or other about the premises."
"But as you say you've seen Timothy, haven't you been able to get any
thing out of him?"
"No," replied Frank; "for as all his business seems to be confined to
out-of-doors work, he only came once or twice into the room where we
were upon some trifling excuse or other; but, in reality, I've no doubt
to have a peep at your humble servant, whom the rogue instantly
recognised; and when no one was looking, he tipped me a sly wink of the
eye, at the same time pointing with his thumb over his shoulder, and
directing his eyes towards the ceiling, thereby indicating, as I
thought, that those I wished the most to see had already betaken
themselves to bed."
"Then I trust they were not packed off on purpose that you might not see
them?" observed the young poet.
"Quite the reverse, Vernon, I assure you, for I'm quite confident they
were so packed off in order that they mightn't see me."
"You surprise me indeed--can it be possible that one so affable and
open-hearted as our squire here appears to be, should hesitate to let
his daughters see so harmless a specimen of the human race as my
particular friend Mr Francis Trevelyan? But ah! I see how it is," Vernon
continued, and his countenance fell as he said so. "I see how it is--he
doubts our being gentlemen; a circumstance quite sufficient to account
for the absence of the young ladies."
"Don't let that notion trouble you," interposed our little hero; "your
particular friend, Mr Francis Trevelyan, as you have been pleased to
style him, has removed every unfavourable impression a first glance of
your two yards of humanity might have produced--you know the old saying,
'Show me your associates and I'll tell you what you are.'"
"Then," interposed Vernon, "the impression here must be, that I'm one of
the most impudent dogs living."
"Nothing of the kind," resumed Frank; "that is, if they judge of you by
your humble servant, whom they consider an exceedingly modest young man,
which was the sole reason the two girls were kept out of the way, and
sent off so early to bed; though by the by I'm almost ashamed to say"--
"Don't talk of your shame, Frank," interrupted Vernon, "a very different
kind of thing, though too often confounded with modesty. It's the
latter--It's your modesty--I wish to hear about."
"Why, the plain state of the case," rejoined Frank, "was, that our
good-natured friend the squire, from an imperfect knowledge of the
natural boldness of my disposition, (call it impudence, if you will,)
supposed me incapable of facing the battery of laughter my extraordinary
appearance would have exposed me to, had I come within view of his fair
daughters."
"Your appearance is queer enough at all times I must confess," observed
Vernon, "and still more so in your travelling costume; but still hardly
enough so, I should have thought, to have produced quite so powerful an
effect as you have just mentioned."
"You wouldn't say so, or have thought so, either, had you seen the
strange figure of fun I made. Just now for a moment fancy my limited
proportions enveloped in the squire's ample toggery--(who more than
makes up in breadth all he wants in height,)--only fancy me so attired
and where could you look for a more complete personification of a living
scarecrow?"
"I can fancy it all," said Vernon Wycherley, laughing exceedingly at the
idea of his companion so arrayed; "but do tell me," he continued, "what
could have induced you to put on so ridiculous a masquerade."
"What else could I do?" rejoined Frank, "unless I turned in supperless
to bed, or had it brought up to me there, neither of which suited my
inclination--for, you see, what the rain we encountered had left undone
in the drenching way, the brook I blundered over head and ears into had
completely effected; and though my subsequent souse just afterwards into
the fishpond could make me no wetter, that deficiency was amply made up
for in mud; and as I had thrown off my knapsack, I had no precise notion
where, in order that I might run all the lighter without it, which has
only just now been picked up and returned to me, and so not a dry rag of
my own to help myself to, I was right glad to rig myself out in the
squire's clothes, which, fitting me like what our friend the admiral
would say, 'purser's shirt upon a handspike,' made me look for all the
world like an unstuffed effigy of a Guy Fawkes--a figure so
superlatively ridiculous, that two light-hearted young girls, who were
unable to help wellnigh laughing themselves from off their horses' backs
at the sight of a youthful poet employing his nose as a pick-axe, could
scarcely be expected to look unmoved on so ludicrous an object as I
was."
"Spare me, Frank--spare me!" exclaimed Vernon. "How shall I be able to
remove the ridiculous association which must be connected with that
unlucky tumble?"
"The more important one you made so shortly afterwards, I'll undertake
to say, will produce the desired effect," said Frank.
"Oh! don't talk about that now, pray," interposed Vernon with a shudder,
and turning pale at the sudden recollection of his recent peril; which
Frank perceiving, and aware of the indiscretion he had so thoughtlessly
committed by alluding to, and to avert his friend's mind from dwelling
any longer upon it, he rattled on as fast as he could about various
other matters, describing in glowing terms all he had seen, heard, or
conjectured, about the place they were then in. "What a contrast," he
said, "the mere separation of a narrow valley has made between the
desolate wastes we have traversed for the last two days, and the fertile
spot where we now are, which, though deficient in timber, is beyond
measure fertile in corn, and contains, I am told, some excellent
shooting--that is partridge shooting; for a pheasant is here a kind of
_rara avis in terris_, and as little likely to be met with as the very
black swan itself; but then it's a fine country for woodcocks, whilst
the bottoms almost swarm with snipes; all of which the squire has
promised to show me in the course of the day, and for days to come, if I
feel so inclined; for he won't hear a word of our leaving for at least
ten days, or a week at the very shortest."
"But how, my dear fellow, can we accept an invitation of this kind from
an utter stranger, whom"----
"No stranger at all," interrupted Frank. "He tells me your governor is
one of his oldest and most esteemed friends; and as for myself--but
stay--hush!--hark! I hear the old gentleman's voice, and he's coming
this way too, or I'm very much mistaken."