"Take my advice, sir; it's a woman's, but not the worse for that. If you
stay here till doomsday, you can't alter what is unalterable. The fool's
married by this time. The general has broken up his establishment and
has decamped!"
"Impossible!"
"That may be, but what I tell you is the truth, nevertheless. The mail
leaves Bath at eleven o'clock. Return by it to London. See Lord Railton
as soon as you arrive. Make the best you can of this wretched business,
and prepare him to meet his son without a curse. You need not tell him
all you know about the general. He will find that out quickly enough;
nor need you mention my insignificant name at all. The old man has
feeling left in him; and the mother doats upon her namby-pamby boy.
Obtain their pardon for your friend, and you will do that friend a
service which he will never forget, and can never sufficiently repay."
I reflected for a moment; the advice seemed sound. I determined to adopt
it. Bewildered and vexed, I quitted the lady's house, and walked
mechanically about the town, from street to street. An hour or two were
yet at my disposal--heavy, irritating hours, converted into ages by my
impatience and anxiety. Chance or fate conducted me to the abode of
General Travis. I stopped before the door, as purposeless as I had just
approached it. To curse the hour that had connected poor Sinclair with
the proprietor of that late magnificent and extravagant establishment,
was a natural movement. I cursed, and proceeded on my walk. I had not,
however, advanced a few steps, before, looking back, I became aware of a
light gleaming from one of the windows of the house. I returned. Some
information might be gained from the servant left in charge of the
place; possibly a clue to the mystery in which, without any valid
reason, I had myself become entangled. I found the door of the mansion
ajar. I knocked, but no one answered; I repeated the summons with as
little success, and then I walked boldly in--and up-stairs, in order to
place myself at once in communication with the apartment in which I had
perceived the faint illumination. Opening the drawing-room door, I
perceived, as much to my disgust as astonishment--the Yahoo!
That dark gentleman was drunk; there was no doubt of it. He was sitting
at a table that was literally covered with food, of which he had taken
to repletion. His coat was off, so was his cravat, and the collar of his
shirt unbuttoned. Perspiration hung about his cheeks, and his face
looked very oily. Decanters of wine were before him; a pewter jug of
ale; and bottles containing more or less of ardent spirits. There was a
wild expression in his eye, but the general glow of his visage was one
of fuddled sottishness. He saluted me with a grin.
"Who the debil are you?" he politely asked.
"I was looking," I answered, "for a servant."
"D--n him serbant," exclaimed the Yahoo, speaking in his drunkenness
like a very nigger. "I gib him a holyday. What are you got to say to
dat? What do you want?" he proceeded. "Sit down. Enjoy yerself. What do
you take? Deblish good rum, and no mistake."
_Hold a candle to the Devil_ is a worldly maxim, which I had never an
opportunity of practising to the letter until now. Much might be learned
by humoring the monster--nothing by opposing him. I sat down and drank
his health.
"Thankee, old boy," said he. "I'm deblish glad to see you, upon my soul.
Gib us your hand. How many are you got?"
"Two," said I.
"That's a lie," replied the nigger hastily. "I see four. But neber mind,
I'm not partickler. Gib us two of 'em. I say, old boy," he continued,
"don't you eat nothing? D----d sweet. Sure to make you sick. Him drink
much as him like."
"You wait the general's return, I presume?" said I, in the vain hope of
eliciting something from this black moving barrel.
The gentleman tried to look me full in the face; but his eyes rolled
involuntarily, and prevented him. He contrived, however, to effect what
he intended for a knowing wink, whilst he thrust out his cheek with the
end of his tongue.
"Oh yes, in course," he answered. "I wait till him come back. Him wait
d----d long while. He! he! he!"
"His departure was very sudden," I continued.
"Oh, bery! All them departure's bery sudden. Missy General go bery
sudden--Missy Elinor go bery sudden--rum go bery sudden," he concluded,
drinking off a glassful.
"I saw the general to-day. We met on the road. He told me every thing."
"Stupid old codger! Him can't keep his own counsel. Dat him business,
not mine. Deblish cleber old codger!"
"He was much affected," said I. "The elopement of his child is a serious
blow to him."
The nigger performed the same pantomime as before; winking his eye, and
enlarging his cheek.
"Blow not so bad as a punch on the head, old boy. Deblish cleber old
codger," repeated the Yahoo, laughing immoderately. "Deblish cleber
'Gustus too!"
"Who is he?" I inquired.
The nigger attempted to rise in his chair, and to make a profound bow,
but failed in both attempts.
"I'm 'Gustus!" said he, "at your sarvice--take a glass of wine with
you!"