The main interest of my adventures--if, indeed, I may flatter myself
that they ever contained any--is now over; the mystery is explained, the
innocent acquitted, and the guilty condemned. Moreover, all obstacles
between the marriage of the unworthy hero, with the peerless heroine,
being removed, it would be but an idle prolixity to linger over the
preliminary details of an orthodox and customary courtship. Nor is it
for me to dilate upon the exaggerated expressions of gratitude, in
which the affectionate heart of Glanville found vent for my fortunate
exertions on his behalf. He was not willing that any praise to which
I might be entitled for them, should be lost. He narrated to Lady
Glanville and Ellen my adventures with the comrades of the worthy Job;
from the lips of the mother, and the eyes of the dear sister, came my
sweetest addition to the good fortune which had made me the instrument
of Glanville’s safety, and acquittal. I was not condemned to a long
protraction of that time, which, if it be justly termed the happiest of
our lives, we, (viz. all true lovers) through that perversity common to
human nature, most ardently wish to terminate.
On that day month which saw Glanville’s release, my bridals were
appointed. Reginald was even more eager than myself in pressing for an
early day: firmly persuaded that his end was rapidly approaching, his
most prevailing desire was to witness our union. This wish, and the
interest he took in our happiness, gave him an energy and animation
which impressed us with the deepest hopes for his ultimate recovery;
and the fatal disease to which he was a prey, nursed the fondness of
our hearts by the bloom of cheek, and brightness of eye, with which it
veiled its desolating and gathering progress.
From the eventful day on which I had seen Lady Roseville, in--Street,
we had not met. She had shut herself up in her splendid home, and the
newspapers teemed with regret, at the reported illness and certain
seclusion of one, whose fetes and gaieties had furnished them with their
brightest pages. The only one admitted to her was Ellen. To her, she
had for some time made no secret of her attachment--and of her the daily
news of Sir Reginald’s health was ascertained. Several times, when at
a late hour, I left Glanville’s apartments, I passed the figure of
a woman, closely muffled, and apparently watching before his
windows--which, owing to the advance of summer, were never closed--to
catch, perhaps, a view of his room, or a passing glimpse of his
emaciated and fading figure. If that sad and lonely vigil was kept by
her whom I suspected, deep, indeed, and mighty, was the love, which
could so humble the heart, and possess the spirit, of the haughty and
high-born Countess of Roseville.
I turn to a very different personage in this veritable histoire. My
father and mother were absent, at Lady H.’s, when my marriage was fixed;
to both of them I wrote for their approbation of my choice. From Lady
Frances I received the answer which I subjoin:--
“My dearest Son,
“Your father desires me to add his congratulations to mine, upon the
election you have made. I shall hasten to London, to be present at the
ceremony. Although you must not be offended with me, if I say, that with
your person, accomplishments, birth, and (above all) high ton, you might
have chosen among the loftiest, and wealthiest families in the country,
yet I am by no means displeased or disappointed with your future
wife, to say nothing of the antiquity of her name. (The Glanvilles
intermarried with the Pelhams, in the reign of Henry II.) It is a
great step to future distinction to marry a beauty, especially one so
celebrated as Miss Glanville--perhaps it is among the surest ways to the
cabinet. The forty thousand pounds which you say Miss Glanville is to
receive, makes, to be sure, but a slender income; though, when added
to your own, it would have been a great addition to the Glenmorris
property, if your uncle--I have no patience with him--had not married
again.
“However, you will lose no time in getting into the House--at all
events, the capital will ensure your return for a borough, and maintain
you comfortably, till you are in the administration; when of course
it matters very little what your fortune may be--tradesmen will be too
happy to have your name in their books; be sure, therefore, that the
money is not tied up. Miss Glanville must see that her own interest, as
well as yours, is concerned in your having the unfettered disposal of
a fortune, which, if restricted, you would find it impossible to live
upon. Pray, how is Sir Reginald Glanville? Is his cough as bad as ever?
He has no entailed property, I think?
“Will you order Stonor to have the house ready for us on Friday, when
I shall return home in time for dinner? Let me again congratulate you,
most sincerely, on your choice. I always thought you had more common
sense, as well as genius, than any young man, I ever knew: you have
shown it in this important step. Domestic happiness, my dearest Henry,
ought to be peculiarly sought for by every Englishman, however elevated
his station; and when I reflect upon Miss Glanville’s qualifications,
and her renommee as a belle celebree, I have no doubt of your possessing
the felicity you deserve. But be sure that the fortune is not settled
away from you; poor Sir Reginald is not (I believe) at all covetous or
worldly, and will not therefore insist upon the point.
“God bless you, and grant you every happiness.
“Ever, my dear Henry,
“Your very affectionate Mother,
“F. Pelham.”
“P.S. I think it will be better to give out that Miss Glanville has
eighty thousand pounds. Be sure, therefore, that you do not contradict
me.”
The days, the weeks flew away. Ah, happy days! yet, I do not regret
while I recal you! He that loves much, fears even in his best founded
hopes. What were the anxious longings for a treasure--in my view only,
not in my possession--to the deep joy of finding it for ever my own!
The day arrived--I was yet at my toilet, and Bedos, in the greatest
confusion (poor fellow, he was as happy as myself), when a letter
was brought me, stamped with the foreign post-mark. It was from the
exemplary Job Jonson; and though I did not even open it on that day, yet
it shall be more favoured by the reader--viz. if he will not pass over,
without reading, the following effusion--
“Rue des Moulins, No.__, Paris.
“Honoured Sir,
“I arrived in Paris safely, and reading in the English papers the full
success of our enterprise, as well as in the Morning Post of the--th,
your approaching marriage with Miss Glanville, I cannot refrain from the
liberty of congratulating you upon both, as well as of reminding you of
the exact day on which the first quarter of my annuity will be paid--it
is the--of--; for, I presume, your honour kindly made me a present
of the draft for one hundred pounds, in order to pay my travelling
expenses.
“I find that the boys are greatly incensed against me; but as Dawson was
too much bound by his oath, to betray a tittle against them, I trust
I shall, ultimately, pacify the club, and return to England. A true
patriot, Sir, never loves to leave his native country. Even were I
compelled to visit Van Diemen’s land, the ties of birth-place would be
so strong as to induce me to seize the first opportunity of returning.
I am not, your honour, very fond of the French--they are an idle,
frivolous, penurious, poor nation. Only think, Sir, the other day I saw
a gentleman of the most noble air secrete something at a cafe, which
could not clearly discern; as he wrapped it carefully in paper, before
he placed it in his pocket, I judged that it was a silver cream ewer,
at least; accordingly, I followed him out, and from pure curiosity--I
do assure your honour, it was from no other motive--I transferred this
purloined treasure to my own pocket. You will imagine, Sir, the interest
with which I hastened to a lonely spot in the Tuileries, and carefully
taking out the little packet, unfolded paper by paper, till I came--yes,
Sir, till I came to--five lumps of sugar! Oh, the French are a mean
people--a very mean people--I hope I shall soon be able to return to
England. Meanwhile, I am going into Holland, to see how those rich
burghers spend their time and their money. I suppose poor Dawson, as
well as the rascal Thornton, will be hung before you receive this--they
deserve it richly--it is such fellows who disgrace the profession. He is
but a very poor bungler who is forced to cut throats as well as pockets.
And now, your honour, wishing you all happiness with your lady,
“I beg to remain,
“Your very obedient humble Servant,
“Ferdinand De Courcy, etc.”
Struck with the joyous countenance of my honest valet, as I took my
gloves and hat from his hand, I could not help wishing to bestow upon
him a similar blessing to that I was about to possess. “Bedos,” said I,
“Bedos, my good fellow, you left your wife to come to me; you shall not
suffer by your fidelity: send for her--we will find room for her in our
future establishment.”
The smiling face of the Frenchman underwent a rapid change. “Ma
foi,” said he, in his own tongue; “Monsieur is too good. An excess of
happiness hardens the heart; and so, for fear of forgetting my gratitude
to Providence, I will, with Monsieur’s permission, suffer my adored wife
to remain where she is.”
After so pious a reply, I should have been worse than wicked had I
pressed the matter any farther.
I found all ready at Berkeley-square. Lady Glanville is one of those
good persons, who think a marriage out of church is no marriage at all;
to church, therefore, we went. Although Sir Reginald was now so reduced
that he could scarcely support the least fatigue, he insisted on giving
Ellen away. He was that morning, and had been, for the last two or three
days, considerably better, and our happiness seemed to grow less selfish
in our increasing hope of his recovery.
When we returned from church, our intention was to set off immediately
to--Hall, a seat which I had hired for our reception. On re-entering the
house, Glanville called me aside--I followed his infirm and tremulous
steps into a private apartment.
“Pelham,” said he, “we shall never meet again! no matter--you are now
happy, and I shall shortly be so. But there is one office I have yet to
request from your friendship; when I am dead, let me be buried by her
side, and let one tombstone cover both.”
I pressed his hand, and, with tears in my eyes, made him the promise he
required.
“It is enough,” said he; “I have no farther business with life. God
bless you, my friend--my brother; do not let a thought of me cloud your
happiness.”
He rose, and we turned to quit the room; Glanville was leaning on
my arm; when we had moved a few paces towards the door, he stopped
abruptly. Imagining that the pause proceeded from pain or debility, I
turned my eyes upon his countenance--a fearful and convulsive change was
rapidly passing over it--his eyes stared wildly upon vacancy.
“Merciful God--is it--can it be?” he said, in a low inward tone. At that
moment, I solemnly declare, whether from my sympathy with his feelings,
or from some more mysterious and undefinable cause, my whole frame
shuddered from limb to limb. I saw nothing--I heard nothing; but I felt,
as it were, within me some awful and ghostly presence, which had power
to curdle my blood into ice, and cramp my sinews into impotence; it was
as if some preternatural and shadowy object darkened across the mirror
of my soul--as if, without the medium of the corporeal senses, a spirit
spake to, and was answered by, a spirit.
The moment was over. I felt Glanville’s hand relax its grasp upon my
arm--he fell upon the floor--I raised him--a smile of ineffable serenity
and peace was upon his lips; his face was as the face of an angel, but
the spirit had passed away!