liquid as directed, which soon corroded the iron at the bottom. The
sides and top were more difficult, but their partial destruction was
in time accomplished; and, when the eventful evening came, he had
little difficulty in removing the grating. It was, of course, only
injured at the ends; and, as the window was oblong, by altering the
position of the grating, he obtained a substance sufficiently strong
to which he attached the rope-ladder. Getting up to the window, he
placed the grating reversed in the inside, and threw the ladder on
the outside. To soften the fall of the iron after he had descended,
he placed his mattress and bedclothes below; and, having thus made
every preliminary arrangement, with the first stroke of twelve he
commenced his descent; and, ere the last had died upon the breeze,
the ground was reached in safety.
A figure, enveloped in a cloak, approached hurriedly, and whispered
"follow!" He tossed a bundle to the fugitive, then turned to the
left. The order was obeyed; and, after the lapse of an hour and
a-half, Tom found himself in a wood, and the stranger opening a dark
lantern--sliding shades at the side of which had previously been
pulled down--disclosed to the eyes of Vallance the features of his
agent, Mortlake.
The bundle was untied, and Tom found it to contain a capacious
wrapper, a shawl, and bonnet with a veil. Those Tom was required to
put on, and this matter being accomplished, the journey was resumed,
and in about two hours they arrived at a small hamlet or village,
where they found a gig waiting for them. Mortlake then addressed his
companion:--"My dear Emily! be more composed--never mind your
father--I will write to him, and all will yet be put to rights."
Tom, who had been previously instructed, spoke "small like a woman;"
and, after some affected coyness, entered the carriage, when the
parties drove off, leaving the man who had taken charge of the
vehicle under the evident conviction that the strange man was a sad
blackguard, and that the veiled lady was some unfortunate young woman
who had been deluded away by his devices.
The news of Tom's escape excited universal astonishment, and no means
were left untried to trace his footsteps; but every exertion was in
vain, and his pursuers were completely at fault. It was universally
admitted that some one must have furnished him with the implements
that had procured his liberation; and his mother was, as a matter of
course, the first one on whom suspicion lighted. The poor old woman,
when the fact was announced, was equally amazed and pleased; but she
could furnish no clue. Tom had seen a few people in prison, yet it
was evident they had nothing to do with the escape. It was at last
resolved that the agent was the accessory; but here the good people
were at fault again, for no one, except the jailer, remembered having
seen him, and he could give but a very imperfect description of him.
He might be tall or so--rather think he was, but not sure--wore
powder, and had, he believes, a black coat, but did not think he
would know him again. This was all that could be elicited.
A reward of fifty pounds was offered by the magistrates for the
capture of Tom; and Sir Edward Bruce Vavasour increased it to one
hundred and fifty, expressing, at same time, his anxiety that the
accused should be retaken.
Whilst all were in a state of excitement, fresh fuel was added to the
flame by the following letter, bearing the Liverpool post-mark, which
Mrs Vallance received from her son:--
"DEAREST MOTHER,--I am well, and as happy as one unjustly accused can
be. Though fate has sundered us, you are ever in my thoughts. I
have found a protector--fear not for me. You shall regularly hear
from
"Your affectionate son," &c.
Beneath was written:--"Your son will yet be a blessing to you.
Accept this trifle." And a twenty pound note was found enclosed.
"What a fool!" said the wise ones, "only to think of letting us know
where he is." And, upon the hint, away trotted the officers with a
criminal warrant, to be backed, as it is termed, by an English
justice in Liverpool, where, to their great vexation, he was not to
be found.
Meanwhile, the object of their pursuit was out of all danger. His
friend and he at last found themselves on the road to Wooler.
"Tom!" said Mortlake, when they alighted at the inn, "you must pass
for my wife. I have everything provided for that purpose in my
portmanteau; meanwhile, keep down your veil, and wrap your cloak
about you."
He then took out a complete suit of female apparel, and speedily his
protegée was metamorphosed into a tall and handsome, although
somewhat masculine, female. We need not tire our readers with a
detail of the subsequent journey southward, and may only mention that
Mortlake left the horse and gig at Wooler, where, obtaining a seat
for himself and his companion in the mail, they arrived in safety at
Barnet. Here Tom resumed his sex; and, in a new suit of clothes,
appeared, as he really was, a good and intelligent looking young man.
From Barnet, the travellers proceeded in a chaise to London, where
Mortlake took lodgings, and, after the lapse of a few days, disclosed
to the youth his ulterior purposes.
"Mr Vallance!" said he.
"Do not call me 'Mr'--if you do, I shall think I have offended you."
"Well, Tom, then. Listen to what I have to say. You have been my
companion now for nearly three weeks. During that time I have
studied you, and the opinion I have formed is favourable. You
possess good qualities and excellent talents: these have been
obscured but not extinguished by your recent follies, not to give
them a harsher name. By giving way to passion and using threats,
which, from you, were ill-judged and ill-timed, you have barely
escaped an ignominious death. Far be it from me to say that the late
owner of Merlon was justified in the intemperate language he used;
but you know that at times he had no control over himself, and you
should have made allowances for what was really a disease. Of your
innocence I have not the slightest doubt, otherwise I would never
have aided your escape from jail. I think the lesson you have had is
one you can never forget; and I prophesy that Thomas Vallance may yet
assume that position in society which good conduct and perseverance
ever secure."
Tom heard this eulogium, qualified as it was, with great delight.
"Try me! O try me, my best friend!--give me an opportunity of
evincing, by the propriety of my conduct, how much I feel your
benevolence. To please you shall be the study of my future life."
"Well, Tom, you shall have a trial; but you must leave me, and cross
the seas. It is not safe for either of us that you remain here."
Tom's countenance fell. "And must I leave _you_--the only being in
the world, save my mother, whom I love? but your commands are to me
as laws, and they shall be obeyed."
"Well, then--the family with which I am connected have large
possessions in Antigua, and there is a wealthy mercantile
establishment over which I have no inconsiderable control--so much
so, that any recommendation from me or mine will meet with immediate
attention. I shall place you there as a clerk; and if you discharge
the duties of the office satisfactorily, means shall be afforded of
advancing you: in one word, everything shall be made to depend upon
your good behaviour. Preparations have already been making for your
departure, and I have procured from the senior partner of Mortlake,
Tresham, & Co., an order for your appointment, with a letter of
recommendation to Mr Tresham, the resident partner, whose good graces
I sincerely wish you may acquire."
"Mortlake!--is he a relation of yours?"
"Yes! but you must ask no questions--seek to know nothing beyond what
I choose to disclose. You must renounce your name. You will
therefore, in future, be known as Thomas Mortlake, the son of a
distant relation of mine. Such is the legend that must be
circulated. Now, write to your mother. Would to heavens! I could
permit an interview, but that cannot be. Give me the letter, sealed
if you choose, as I have a particular mode of transmitting it to her;
and I wish it to appear, as the former one did, that it came from
Liverpool. Be cautious and guarded in what you communicate, but
mention that, in future, she shall have such an allowance as will
make her easy for life. Now, farewell for a few hours, and be sure
to have your letter ready when I return."
Tom was left to his own reflections. The letter to Mrs Vallance was
written; and, by the time that Mortlake returned, Tom was
sufficiently composed to veil his feelings, and meet him as of old.
"Everything is arranged," said Mortlake; "in a few days you sail from
the Thames by the brig _Tresham_. You will have every accommodation
afforded that a gentleman can require: a suitable wardrobe is
preparing: in short, my dear young friend, you shall appear to these
West Indians as their equal, and in such guise as suits the proud
name of Mortlake. One thing more, and I have done. The present
Baronet of Vavasour has, through his mother, property in Antigua, and
is distantly related to the elder partner of the firm. You will,
therefore, seem as if you knew him not; and even in regard to myself,
I wish little or nothing said. That curiosity will be excited, I
doubt not, but I leave you to baffle it."
Time passed with unusual rapidity--so, at least, Mr Thomas Mortlake
opined; and the day of his departure having at length arrived, he was
not a little startled when his friend made a very early appearance,
accompanied by a young lady. Advancing towards him, she said--"Mr
Mortlake! I am happy to have had this opportunity of seeing you
previous to your departure, and of personally wishing you every
success in the calling in which you are about to engage. Your friend
has no secrets from me, and I am acquainted with every particular of
your singular history."
"Yes!" exclaimed his protector; "I conceal nothing from this lady,
and she feels as much interest in you as I do myself. We propose to
accompany you to the ship."
Tom felt somewhat confused by this unexpected introduction; but that
natural sense of propriety which is inherent in some minds, and which
others vainly endeavour to acquire, enabled him to acquit himself in
a manner that gave equal satisfaction to both visitors. The party
then proceeded to the vessel, where Mortlake and the lady satisfied
themselves that due provision had been made for the accommodation of
their protegé.
"Mr Mortlake!" said the lady at parting, "I have used the freedom of
an old friend, and placed in your cabin a small collection of books,
which, I have no doubt, will materially help to deprive your voyage
of half its tedium; and, when you arrive at the place of your
destination, if you could devote any leisure hours to their study, be
assured the benefit will be incalculable."
"Believe me," he answered, "my kind patrons, whatever may be my fate,
I never can forget the wondrous acts of kindness that have been
lavished on me. If an anxious desire to discharge the duties of my
office--if a determination to surmount difficulties, coupled with a
firm resolution to act fairly and honourably by my neighbours--can be
taken as an earnest of my anxiety to please, on this you may rely;
and if my exertions be crowned with success, the pleasure will be
doubled when I remember it is all owing to you."
"Tom," said Mr Mortlake, "you are eloquent; but time flies, and we
must part."
"I have but one request more--no doubt it is needless. Be kind! O
be kind to my poor mother!"
"On that," replied the lady, "you may depend. And now, farewell!"
Tom took her hand, and pressed it respectfully to his lips; then,
turning to his friend, tried to give utterance to "farewell!" The
word would not pass his lips. Forgetting all difference of rank, he
threw his arms around Mortlake's neck, and wept. In a moment, as if
ashamed of his freedom, or want of manliness, he hastily withdrew
from his embrace.
Mortlake was moved. He pressed the lad affectionately to his
breast--"God bless you, my dear fellow; in me you have ever a steady
friend. And now, farewell!"
They separated; and years elapsed ere Mortlake and his friend again
met.
* * * *
Young Mortlake--for so he must in future be termed--suffered the
usual inconveniences of a sea voyage; and if ever his boyish
inclination, influenced by a perusal of the fascinating fiction of
"Robinson Crusoe," had given him a fancy for the pleasures of a
seafaring life, they yielded speedily to the irresistible effects of
sea-sickness.
The vessel reached the island in about six weeks, and Tom presented
his credentials to Mr Tresham, from whom he met a favourable
reception. He had an apartment assigned to him in the house, and was
treated as one of the family. To the duties of the counting-house,
irksome in the outset, he soon became reconciled. His anxiety to
please was not overlooked by his master, who, finding him able and
apt, gradually raised both his rank and his salary. Before five
years had elapsed, he was head clerk in the establishment.
Favourites are not much liked; but Tom bore his honours so meekly,
and was so obliging, without being obsequious, that his rise neither
excited envy nor surprise--indeed, it was looked upon as a matter of
course; and the astonishment would have been, not that he had risen,
but that he had not risen in the establishment.
When he first arrived, he was pestered with questions as to birth,
parentage, and education. These ordinary, but impertinent queries,
he parried with equal good humour and tact. All that could be
extracted from him was, that he was protected by Mr Mortlake, and
that that was his own name. Mr Tresham, however, put no questions.
Sir Edward Vavasour was rarely mentioned. Little was known of him,
excepting that several thousands a-year were annually remitted to
England as the produce of his estates. Latterly, Tom observed that
these returns were made to account of Lord Mortlake. This puzzled
him; and, upon a question to Tresham being hazarded, he coldly
answered--
"The possessions of Sir Edward Vavasour belong now to Lord Mortlake;
but remember the request of your benefactor--to ask no questions."
Other matters of more importance now occupied our hero's mind, and he
gave himself no farther thoughts on the subject. The firstfruits of
his labour were piously remitted to his mother, through his English
correspondent. From her he (through the same channel) learned that
Sir Edward Vavasour had given her a nice little cottage and garden,
on the Vavasour estate, in England, rent-free, and that she had sold
off everything in Merton, as the recollections there were
unpleasant--the reason assigned being her former services as
housekeeper in the family. No attempt had been made by him to elicit
a confession of her son's residence. She farther stated, that she
regularly received twenty pounds every half-year from some unknown
person; and that she was, therefore, as happy as she could be in the
absence of her son.
The letters from his patron were warm and affectionate. Some little
presents Tom had ventured to make; and a few of those lovely tropical
shells, transmitted to the unknown young lady, were cordially
accepted, not so much for their value, as for the indications they
afforded of the unabated regard of the giver. Tom devoted a certain
portion of each day to study. His early education had been, so far
as it went, good; and he was enabled, by severe application, to
master the Roman authors, and enjoy their beauties.
The death of his mother, during the fourth year of his residence in
the tropics, was a heavy blow to him. He had lived in hopes of
coming back to Britain with a fortune sufficient to support her in
affluence; but his pious intention was frustrated. One consolation
he had, that the kind lady who, with his patron, took such an
especial interest in his affairs, had watched over her dying moments,
and afforded her every comfort.
In the tenth year of his sojourn, a great revolution in his fortunes
took place. One morning, Mr Tresham called him into his private room.
"Mortlake," said he, "you have been now ten years in our service;
and, during that time, I have never had cause to find the slightest
fault with you. The demise of the senior partner compels me to visit
England. Your patron has written me urgently to admit you as a
partner; now, although his recommendation must have weight with me, I
can assure you that I need no solicitation to do an act of justice.
I rejoice, by adding your name to the firm, to show you how much I
esteem you, and what unbounded confidence I have in you."
Tom justly felt gratified by this communication. He was grateful for
the never-slumbering care of his English patron, and equally so for
the personal regard of Tresham, who, having thus removed a
considerable portion of the burdens of commerce upon his younger
partner, left the island, and safely arrived in London, where, for
several months, he was engaged in adjusting the company's accounts,
and effecting a settlement with the representatives of the deceased.
The business, meanwhile, went on under the name of Tresham, Mortlake,
& Co., and was managed with as much prudence and profit by the junior
partner as it had previously been by the senior one.
Tresham having realized a fortune, at the age of fifty resolved to
return to England to enjoy it. Upon this occasion, his nephew, who
had come out sometime after Tom, became a partner; and, just twenty
years from the period of his advent, did Thomas Mortlake, Esq.,
resolve, at the age of thirty-six, to return to his native land,
leaving the affairs of the company to be exclusively managed by young
Tresham, who was fully adequate to the task.
He embarked in a vessel of the company's; and having had a fair wind,
in a few weeks beheld the chalky cliffs of Old Albion. He found his
patron and Tresham awaiting his landing, and a carriage ready to bear
him away. The meeting was cordial. Twenty years had not affected
his patron much. He was about forty-five years of age, but looked
perhaps a little younger. There was a dignity about his manner which
Tom had never previously remarked; but there was no lack of kindness;
on the contrary, it was obvious at a glance that his return was most
acceptable to his friend. Nor was Tresham less friendly.
As Tom stepped into the carriage, he was thunderstruck to observe a
coat of arms on the panels, with a _baron's_ coronet.
"Bless me, Mr Tresham, have you been raised to the Peerage?"
Tresham smilingly replied--
"Not yet. We don't know, however, what may happen. Irish peerages
may be had cheap. The carriage is not mine: it belongs to one of our
best customers, Lord Mortlake."
"Bless me!--how kind of his lordship!" was the rejoinder. "Is he,
sir, a friend of yours?" turning to his patron.
"I think," was the answer, "I should know him better than most
people; but come, tell me how affairs are going on in Antigua."
A desultory conversation followed, which lasted nearly the whole
period of their journey. At last the vehicle approached a
magnificent baronial seat, through a long avenue of lime trees, then
in full blossom.
"Here we are!" said the older Mortlake. Upon leaving the carriage,
Tom and his companions entered a spacious hall of the olden time, the
proprieties of which had been carefully preserved, and which was
pretty much in the same state as it had been during the reign of
Elizabeth. Taking Tom by the hand, his friend welcomed him to his
family residence, and told him that a lady up stairs--an old friend
of his--was waiting to receive him. "But," added he, "you will
perhaps require to go to your apartments."
Tom having put himself to rights, was led by Mortlake to the
drawing-room, where he beheld his mysterious female visitant and a
young lady of about nineteen, who, from her resemblance, it was not
difficult to discover was the daughter of his host. Two fine-looking
aristocratic lads, the one aged perhaps sixteen, and the other nearly
eighteen, were standing beside their sister, chatting and laughing
with Mr Tresham.
The lady rose to receive her guest, when Tresham interposing,
exclaimed:--
"Allow me--Lady Mortlake, Mr Mortlake; Mr Mortlake, Lady Mortlake."
Tom was confused, certainly; but his good manners did not forsake
him, and he expressed his gratification at again beholding the lady,
in appropriate and feeling terms.
"Mr Mortlake," said she, "I am happy--very happy--to receive you at
Vavasour, which, I trust, you will consider as your home." Turning
to her daughter--"Emily, my love, this is Mr Mortlake, whom you have
heard your father and myself talk of so frequently." He was then
introduced to the sons, by whom he was received with equal kindness.
His patron next took Tom aside.
"The mystery," said he, "will soon be explained; in me you behold
Lord Mortlake; but, on that account, not less your sincere friend.
No one, not even Tresham, but believes you to be a relation of the
family, except Lady Mortlake and myself; so be collected, and assume
a character which, some day or other, I hope confidently may be yours
legally."
The latter words sounded strangely in our hero's ears; but this was a
day of wonders, and when they were to end he could not conjecture.
"Sir Edward Vavasour?" he whispered.
"Is no more!" was the reply.
A week passed happily, and Mortlake, in the society he esteemed and
respected, was superlatively blessed. One morning after breakfast,
Lord Mortlake took him into the library, and, locking the door, bade
him be seated.
"Mortlake," said his lordship, "the time for explanation is at hand;
it ought not any longer to be delayed; but, before disclosing much
that may astonish you, be assured that I make the disclosure without
seeking any pledge of secrecy from you. I shall leave it entirely to
yourself, when you have heard all, to take what course you may judge
expedient."
"My Lord! do not think so meanly of the creature of your bounty as to
suppose that, whatever may be the nature of your communication, I
shall ever use it to your prejudice."
"Make no rash promises, Mr Mortlake. Here me, and decide. I told
you Sir Edward Vavasour was no more and yet he is only so in one
sense--his title is merged in a higher one: he is now Lord Mortlake!"
"Gracious Providence! Sir Edward Vavasour Lord Mortlake? Can it be
possible?"
"It _is_ possible; Lord Mortlake is before you. But hear me out.
You are probably aware that the late Sir Thomas Vavasour had a
younger brother Richard; and it has perhaps come to your knowledge
that he was married to Miss Mortlake, a lady of birth and fortune,
the daughter of an extensive proprietor in Antigua. Mrs Vavasour was
a Creole by birth, and a woman of violent passions. Her husband led
a very unenviable life--but let me pass that over. Of that marriage
I was the sole offspring, and was named heir by my grandfather to his
large estates, after the demise of my parents. This equitable
arrangement of his property created a prejudice in my mother's mind
against me, as she could not brook the idea of being interfered with
in the use of that which she thought she was entitled to enjoy
without control. When my father died, I was placed under the
superintendence of my uncle, Sir Thomas, who, himself a proud and
passionate man, had a great contempt for his equally proud and
passionate sister-in-law; hence a new seed of enmity was sown.
"My mother wished to make a fine gentleman of me: my uncle detested
the whole tribe of 'puppies,' and determined to make a man of me. He
carefully provided for my education; and, at the proper time, sent me
to the Temple, where I studied jurisprudence for a few years with
considerable success. The heir of a large estate, my uncle never
wished me to do more than acquire habits of industry and application.
My mother did all she could to unsettle me--but in vain. I had a
will of my own, and was by no means disposed to be come her vassal.