“Chi mi fa piu carezze che non sole; O m’ha ingannato, o ingannar me
vuole.”
“By St. George, there’s nothing like Old England for comfort!” cried Mr.
Palmer, settling himself in his arm-chair in the evening; “nothing after
all in any part of the known world, like Old England for comfort. Why,
madam, there’s not another people in the universe that have in any of
their languages a name even for comfort. The French have been forced to
borrow it; but now they have got it, they don’t know how to use it, nor
even how to pronounce it, poor devils! Well, there’s nothing like Old
England for comfort.”
“Ah! nothing like Old England for comfort!” echoed Mrs. Beaumont, in a
sentimental tone, though at that instant her thoughts were far distant
from her words; for this declaration of his love for Old England alarmed
her with the notion that he might change his mind about returning
immediately to Jamaica, and that he might take root again and flourish
for years to come in his native soil--perhaps in her neighbourhood, to
the bane of all her favourite projects. What would become of her scheme
of marrying Amelia to the baronet, and her son to the docile Albina?
What would become of the scheme of preventing him from being acquainted
with the Walsinghams? For a week it might be practicable to keep them
asunder by _policising_, but this could never be effected if he were to
settle, or even to make any long stay, in the country. The Walsinghams
would be affronted, and then what would become of their interest in the
county? Her son could not be returned without that. And, worse than all
the rest, Mr. Palmer might take a fancy to see these Walsinghams, who
were as nearly related to him as the Beaumonts; and seeing, he might
prefer, and preferring, he might possibly leave half, nay, perhaps
the whole, of his large fortune to them,--and thus all her hopes and
projects might at once be frustrated. Little aware of the long and
perplexing trains of ideas, which his honest ejaculation in favour
of his native country had raised, Mr. Palmer went on with his own
comfortable thoughts.
“And of all the comforts our native land affords, I know of none so
grateful to the heart,” continued he, “as good friends, which are to be
found nowhere else in such perfection. A man at my time of life misses
many an old friend on his return to his native country; but then he
sees them still in their representatives, and loves them again in
their children. Mr. Beaumont looked at me at that instant, so like his
father--he is the image of what my friend was, when I first knew him.”
“I am rejoiced you see the likeness,” said Mrs. Beaumont. “Amelia, my
dear, pour out the coffee.”
“And Miss Beaumont, too, has just his expression of countenance, which
surprises me more, in her delicate features. Upon my word, I have reason
to be proud of my god-daughter, as far as appearances go; and with
English women, appearances, fair as they may be, seldom are even so good
as the truth. There’s her father’s smile again for me--young lady, if
that smile deceives, there’s no truth in woman.”
“Do not you find our coffee here very bad, compared with what you have
been used to abroad?” said Mrs. Beaumont.
“I do rejoice to find myself here quiet in the country,” continued Mr.
Palmer, without hearing the lady’s question; “nothing after all like
a good old English family, where every thing speaks plenty and
hospitality, without waste or ostentation; and where you are received
with a hearty welcome, without compliments; and let do just as you
please, without form, and without being persecuted by politeness.”
This was the image of an English country family impressed early upon
the good old gentleman’s imagination, which had remained there fresh and
unchanged since the days of his youth; and he now took it for granted
that he should see it realized in the family of his late friend.
“I was afraid,” resumed Mrs. Beaumont, “that after being so long
accustomed to a West-Indian life, you would find many things unpleasant
to your feelings here. But you are so kind, so accommodating. Is
it really possible that you have not, since your return to England,
experienced any uncomfortable sensations, suffered any serious injury to
your health, my dear sir, from the damps and chills of our climate?”
“Why, now I think of it, I have--I have a cough,” said Mr. Palmer,
coughing.
Mrs. Beaumont officiously shut the window.
“I do acknowledge that England is not quite so superior to all other
countries in her climate as in every thing else: yet I don’t ‘damn the
climate like a lord.’ At my time of life, a man must expect to be a
valetudinarian, and it would be unjust to blame one’s native climate
for that. But a man of seventy-five must live where he can, not where
he will; and Dr. Y---- tells me that I can live nowhere but in the West
Indies.”
“Oh, sir, never mind Dr. Y----,” exclaimed young Beaumont: “live with us
in England. Many Englishmen live to a great age surely, let people say
what they will of the climate.”
“But, perhaps, brother,” interposed Amelia, “those who, like Mr. Palmer,
have lived much in a warm climate, might find a return to a cold country
dangerous; and we should consider what is best for him, not merely what
is most agreeable to ourselves.”
“True, my dearest Amelia,” said Mrs. Beaumont; “and to be sure, Dr.
Y---- is one of our most skilful physicians. I could not be so rash
or so selfish as to set my private wishes, or my private opinion, in
opposition to Dr. Y----‘s advice; but surely, my dear sir, you won’t let
one physician, however eminent, send you away from us all, and banish
you again from England? We have a very clever physician here, Dr.
Wheeler, in whom I have the greatest confidence. In my own case, I
confess, I should prefer his judgment to any of the London fashionable
physicians, who are so fine and so hurried, that they can’t take time
to study one’s particular constitution, and hear all one has to say to
them. Now that is Wheeler’s great excellence--and I should so like to
hear his opinion. I am sure, if he gives it against me, I will not say
a word more: if he decide for Jamaica, I may be vexed, but I should make
it a point of conscience to submit, and not to urge my good friend to
stay in England at his own peril. Happy they who can live where they
please, and whose fortune puts it in their power to purchase any
climate, and to combine the comforts and luxuries of all countries!”
Nothing more was said upon the subject: Mrs. Beaumont turned the
conversation to the different luxuries of the West and East Indies. Mr.
Palmer, fatigued by his journey, retired early to rest, little dreaming
that his kind hostess waked, whilst he slept, for the purpose of
preparing a physician to give a proper opinion upon his case. Mrs.
Beaumont left a note to her favourite Dr. Wheeler, to be sent very early
in the morning. As if by accident, the doctor dropped in at breakfast
time, and Mrs. Beaumont declared that it was the luckiest chance
imaginable, that he should happen to call just when she was wishing
to see him. When the question in debate was stated to him, he, with
becoming gravity of countenance and suavity of manner, entered into a
discussion upon the effect of hot and cold climates upon the solids and
fluids, and nervous system in general; then upon English constitutions
in particular; and, lastly, upon _idiosyncrasies_.
This last word cost Mr. Palmer half his breakfast: on hearing it he
turned down his cup with a profound sigh, and pushed his plate from him;
indications which did not escape the physician’s demure eye. Gaining
confidence from the weakness of the patient, Dr. Wheeler now boldly
pronounced, that, in his opinion, any gentleman who, after having
habituated himself long to a hot climate, as Jamaica, for instance,
should come late in life to reside in a colder climate, as England, for
example, must run very great hazard indeed--nay, he could almost venture
to predict, would fall a victim to the sudden tension of the lax fibres.
Though a man of sound good sense in most things, Mr. Palmer’s weakness
was, on medical subjects, as great as his ignorance; his superstitious
faith in physicians was as implicit as either Dr. Wheeler or Mrs.
Beaumont could desire.
“Then,” said Mr. Palmer, with a sigh still deeper than the first--for
the first was for himself, and the second for his country--“then
England, Old England! farewell for ever! All my judges pronounce
sentence of transportation upon me!”
Mr. Beaumont and Amelia, in eager and persuasive tones of remonstrance
and expostulation, at once addressed the doctor, to obtain a mitigation
or suspension of his sentence. Dr. Wheeler, albeit unused to the
imperative mood, reiterated his _dictum_. Though little accustomed to
hold his opinion against the arguments or the wishes of the rich and
fair, he, upon this occasion, stood his ground against Miss and Mr.
Beaumont wonderfully well for nearly five minutes; till, to his
utter perplexity and dismay, he saw Mrs. Beaumont appear amongst his
assailants.
“Well, I said I would submit, and not say a word, if Dr. Wheeler was
against me,” she began; “but I cannot sit by silent: I must protest
against this cruel, cruel decree, so contrary too to what I hoped and
expected would be Dr. Wheeler’s opinion.”
Poor Dr. Wheeler twinkled and seemed as if he would have rubbed his
eyes, not sure whether he was awake or in a dream. In his perplexity, he
apprehended that he had misunderstood Mrs. Beaumont’s note, and he now
prepared to make his way round again through the solids and the fluids,
and the whole nervous system, till, by favour of _idiosyncrasy_, he
hoped to get out of his difficulty, and to allow Mr. Palmer to remain
on British ground. Mrs. Beaumont’s face, in spite of her powers of
simulation, lengthened and lengthened, and darkened and darkened, as
he proceeded in his recantation; but, when the exception to the general
axiom was fairly made out, and a clear permit to remain in England
granted, by such high medical authority, she forced a smile, and joined
loudly in the general congratulations. Whilst her son was triumphing
and shaking hands with Mr. Palmer, she slipped down stairs after Dr.
Wheeler.
“Ah, doctor! What have you done! Ruined me! ruined me! Didn’t you read
my note? Didn’t you _understand_ it?--I thought a word to the wise was
enough.”
“Why!--then it was as I understood it at first? So I thought; but then
I fancied I must be mistaken afterwards; for when I expected support, my
dear madam, you opposed my opinion in favour of Jamaica more warmly than
any one, and what was I to think?”
“To think! Oh, my dear doctor, you might have guessed that was only a
sham opposition.”
“But, my dear ma’am,” cried Dr. Wheeler, who, though the mildest of men,
was now worked up to something like indignation, “my dear ma’am--sham
upon sham is too much for any man!”
The doctor went down stairs murmuring. Thus, by excess of hypocrisy, our
heroine disgusted even her own adherents, in which she has the honour
to resemble some of the most wily politicians famous in English history.
But she was too wise ever to let any one who could serve or injure her
go discontented out of her presence.
“My dear, good Dr. Wheeler, I never saw you angry before. Come, come,”
cried Mrs. Beaumont, sliding a _douceur_ into his hand, “friends must
not be vexed for trifles; it was only a mistake _de part et d’autre_,
and you’ll return here to-morrow, in your way home, and breakfast with
us; and now we understand one another. And,” added she, in a whisper,
“we can talk over things, and have your cool judgment best, when only
you, and I, and Mr. Palmer, are present. You comprehend.”
Those who practise many manoeuvres, and carry on many intrigues at
the same time, have this advantage, that if one fails, the success of
another compensates for the disappointment. However she might have been
vexed by this slight _contre-temps_ with Dr. Wheeler, Mrs. Beaumont
had ample compensation of different sorts this day; some due to her own
exertions, some owing to accident. Her own exertions prevented her dear
Albina Hunter from returning; for Mrs. Beaumont never sent the promised
carriage--only a note of apology--a nail had run into one of the
coach-horse’s feet. To accident she owed that the Walsinghams were not
at home when her son galloped over to see them the next morning, and to
inquire what news from Captain Walsingham. That day’s paper also brought
a contradiction of the report of the engagement and victory; so that
Mrs. Beaumont’s apprehensions on this subject were allayed; and she had
no doubt that, by proper management, with a sufficient number of notes
and messages, misunderstandings, lame horses, and crossings upon the
road, she might actually get through the week without letting the
Walsinghams see Mr. Palmer; or at least without more than a _vis_, or
a morning visit, from which no great danger could be apprehended. “Few,
indeed, have so much character,” thought she, “or so much dexterity in
showing it, as to make a dangerous impression in the course of a formal
morning visit.”