Next morning, in the middle of breakfast, a knock was heard at the door,
and our landlord let himself in with the newspaper in his hand and an
expression like a sphinx on his face. He closed the door quietly after
him, and walking up to Mr. Oldstone presented him with the paper, at the
same time silently pointing out to him a paragraph that he had already
marked with his thumb-nail. The door was no sooner closed than it
silently re-opened, apparently by itself, and remained some three or
four inches ajar. Few noticed this, or would have given it a thought if
they had. Their attention was rivetted on Mr. Oldstone, as he settled
his spectacles on his nose preparatory to reading out some tit-bit of
news.
"Eh! What!" exclaimed the antiquary, trembling, and turning pale with
extreme emotion. "Just listen to this, gentlemen, all of you:--
"'CAPTURED BY THE BRIGANDS.
"'The well-known artist, Mr. Vandyke McGuilp, whose picture of "The
Landlord's Daughter" caused such a _furore_ last exhibition at the
Royal Academy, whilst taking a trip in the Sabine Mountains, in the
vicinity of Rome, to recuperate his health, was suddenly surrounded by
a band of brigands, about twelve in number, who sprang upon him from
an ambush and compelled him to surrender. The painter was alone and
unarmed, besides being hampered by the materials of his art. All
resistance would have been worse than useless, so, finding himself
perfectly defenceless, he had no choice but to "stand and deliver."
They seized his gold watch and other trinkets, as well as all the coin
that he carried about him. Not satisfied with this, they forced him to
tramp with them high up in the fastnesses of the mountains, where he
still remains in daily and hourly peril of his life. The brigand chief
has demanded an exorbitant ransom, and threatens that if it does not
arrive within five days they will cut off his ears and send them to
his friends in a letter. Any attempt at rescue, they declare, will at
once seal the fate of their captive. His position is one to cause the
greatest anxiety to his friends, as the barbarity of these desperadoes
is well known.'"
Our antiquary had proceeded thus far when all present were startled by a
smothered shriek, which was followed by a dull thud, as from a heavy
fall. All rushed to the door, and flung it open. Helen had fainted.
Need we relate with what agility Dr. Bleedem leapt to the fore; how
carefully he raised the slim form in his arms, cut her stay lace, and
applied restoratives; then, finally, with the assistance of our host,
carried his patient upstairs, where he deposited her on her own little
bed, administering in every way to her comfort--this we will leave to
the imagination of the reader--whilst, in the breakfast-room below, the
various members talked to each other in subdued tones, and Mr. Oldstone
looked thoughtful.
"Humph! I think I can see through the spoke of _that_ wheel," muttered
Mr. Hardcase to his neighbour.
"Yes, a dreadful blow though, poor girl!" sighed Mr. Parnassus.
"Quite dramatic in its effect," remarked Mr. Blackdeed.
A snort came from Mr. Oldstone, who had turned his back on the group and
begun reperusing the newspaper that he had thrust into his capacious
pocket, when Dr. Bleedem re-entered the room.
"Well, doctor," inquired Professor Cyanite, "and what of your patient?"
"Recovered now, of course, but dreadfully shaken," replied our medico.
"The nervous system has sustained a terrible shock. Luckily, she has
suffered no injuries from her fall."
"Poor young thing!" observed Mr. Crucible, compassionately. "Well, who
can wonder at it?"
During these remarks, to which Mr. Oldstone paid no attention whatever,
being absorbed in the reperusal of his newspaper, he was suddenly
observed to flush as with pleasure. His brow cleared, his eye sparkled.
Then, suddenly rising from his chair, he crumpled up his paper, thrust
it again into his pocket, rubbed his hands with satisfaction, then with
a relieved expression in his face he slowly left the room without a
word.
"Wonder what's come over Oldstone!" muttered one of them. "He seems
quite himself again."
No sooner was our antiquary outside the door than he beckoned the
landlord aside, who was still looking grave, and asked him how he had
left his daughter.
"Dreadful cut up like, sir, 'bout somethin' or other," replied that
worthy, "but Dr. Bleedem says as how we ain't got no call to be afeared,
and that when she has finished the cordial she'll come round agin as
right as a trivet."
"Now look here, Jack," began our antiquary, rubbing his hands together
cheerily, and with difficulty repressing his delight. "What'll you bet
that in five minutes time I don't bring her round again, cordial or no
cordial?"
"Do you think you could, sir?" asked our host, somewhat incredulously,
yet becoming infected, in spite of himself, by Mr. Oldstone's assurance
and good humour.
"I do, mine host, most certainly I do," replied the antiquary.
"Can I see the patient?"
"Willingly, sir," rejoined the landlord. "There is her room," and
pointed to the door.
"Now, Jack, you shall see which is the best doctor, Bleedem or I. If in
five minutes I don't lead her out by the hand, smiling and in her right
mind, my name's not Obadiah Oldstone."
Here, he opened Helen's chamber door, and for the space of five minutes
was closeted with her, leaving our host completely bewildered. The girl
started at seeing her friend and adviser enter her chamber, and looked
at him inquiringly. "Helen, my pet," he began, "I am the bearer of good
news--news that will do you more good than any cordial Dr. Bleedem can
give you."
The girl looked hopeful, seeing her counsellor's cheerful manner, though
her eyes were still red and swollen with weeping. "Tell me, tell me!"
she cried in agony.
"Patience, patience," replied the antiquary, in the most provoking
manner; "all in due time. Well, my dear," he continued, "all that I read
out in the paper this morning, and which you unfortunately overheard
(Oh! you wicked puss, for playing the eavesdropper); well, child, all
that happened a fortnight ago. Since then there is later news. The boy
has been rescued by a band of carabineers who have long been on the
track of the brigands, who were taken completely by surprise. A skirmish
took place, and the brigands were exterminated to a man; a few only of
the carabineers being wounded. Your friend, Mr. Vandyke McGuilp, was at
once set at liberty, and he is now enjoying the best of health and
spirits. So cheer up, girl."
"Oh! sir," cried Helen, half laughing and half crying, "you are not
trying to comfort me by----."
"By a false report," broke in Oldstone. "Certainly not, child. Here,
read for yourself. Can't you believe me?"
Helen took up the paper with trembling hands, and ran her eyes eagerly
over the column. Then with a sweet smile and sign of relief she sank
back on her cushions, crying, "Thank God." She then burst out again into
a fresh fit of weeping, from sheer weakness, which, however, soon
changed into a laugh. Then rousing herself, she leapt from her bed,
bathed her face with cold water, and having dried it, she seized the
hand of her aged friend and counsellor and kissed it, saying, "God bless
you, sir. You were ever my good angel."
"Then follow me downstairs, and look as beaming as you can. Your parents
will wonder at the change, but I shall say nothing." Seizing her hand,
Oldstone led her down the flight of steps, at the foot of which stood
her father, watch in hand.
"There, Jack," said the antiquary in triumph, "What did I say? Have I
been successful? Look at her, and tell me if I am a good doctor or no."
Our host scanned his daughter's now happy features, then turning to Mr.
Oldstone, he said, "Well, sir, its just wonderful! It's like witchcraft
a'most. I don't know what you have been doing to her, sir, but I never
see such a change in my life."
Here Dame Hearty made her appearance, caressed her daughter, and began
to ask questions.
"Now, no questions, Dame Hearty, from either you or your husband," broke
in Oldstone. "That's our secret. You may, if you like, set it down to
Dr. Bleedem's cordial."
"Well, we won't bother her, if as how you don't wish it, sir," answered
her father. Helen then followed her mother into the kitchen, and was
soon slaving away harder than she had ever done before in her life.
"Well, boys," said Mr. Oldstone, cheerily, addressing his fellow-members
as they looked enquiringly at him on his return, "I suppose you want to
know the reason of the change in my countenance since the morning. Well,
take this paper and read for yourselves. You will see where I have
marked it." Here he handed the paper to Mr. Hardcase, who, taking it
from him, proceeded to read the account of our artist's fortunate rescue
from the brigands by the carabineers, which we need not repeat.
"Ah!" observed the lawyer, at the conclusion, "this accounts for
everything. Now, Oldstone, if you had read this article first, and the
other afterwards, we should have been spared a scene."
Oldstone answered with something like a snort, "Bah! who could tell that
the girl was eavesdropping?" Then noticing the quizzical expression on
the faces of some of the members, and guessing that they were about to
make Helen's little love episode a subject for discussion or banter, he
raised his hand as if in prohibition, being determined to nip it in the
bud, and bringing it down with a bang on the table, he began,
"Gentlemen, to change the conversation, I propose that we celebrate our
young friend McGuilp's miraculous escape from his captors by assembling
this evening round a merry bowl of punch--eh, doctor?--and drinking his
health with a three times three."
"Take care, Oldstone!" remonstrated Dr. Bleedem; but the rest of the
members applauded the proposition of the chairman, and prevailed. In
fact, a merry evening was spent, when our artist's health was drunk, as
proposed, as well as that of all his family and belongings. Our host was
then called in, and had to drain a glass to the health and prosperity of
our artist. Dame Hearty was next called in, and had to do the same. One
of the members voted for Helen also drinking the toast.
Before Oldstone could offer any opposition, our landlord called out,
"Now, then, Helen, my girl, come and drink to the health and prosperity
of Mr. McGuilp, your portrait painter, with a hip, hip, hip,
hurrah!--d'ye hear? Come, now, you can't get out of it."
The girl would willingly have hidden herself, and had literally to be
dragged in by her father, blushing and timid. Loud cheers greeted the
girl's appearance, and a glass was filled for her from the punch-bowl by
Mr. Oldstone himself with the silver ladle, at the bottom of which a
golden guinea had been inlaid.
"All right, my girl," said Mr. Oldstone, "toss it off. No harm in just
one glass. Now, then, all--to the health of our absent artist friend,
Mr. Vandyke McGuilp, and all his belongings--also to his speedy
return--with a hip, hip, hip, hurrah!"
With a charming modesty and grace, like that of a high-born lady, did
this simple country girl join in the toast proposed; then, putting down
her glass on the table, she curtseyed elegantly to the company, and
wishing them all good-night retired.
Loud applause followed this flying visit of Helen to their orgie, and
they would have recalled her; but a glance from Mr. Oldstone kept them
in check. At midnight the party broke up, and each returned to his bed
comfortable, without having indulged to excess, and even Mr. Oldstone
walked bravely off to his bed unassisted.