loves to gossiping tongues."
Neville colored up to the eyes at this thrust.
Griffith continued,--
"The least you can do is to avoid fresh scandal."
"I shall be happy to cooeperate with you so far," said Neville, stiffly.
"I undertake to keep Galton silent; and for the rest, we have only to
name an early hour for meeting, and confide it to but one discreet
friend apiece who will attend us to the field. Then there will be no
gossip, and no bumpkins nor constables breaking in: such things have
happened in this country, I hear."
It was Wednesday. They settled to meet on Friday at noon on a hillside
between Bolton and Neville's Court. The spot was exposed, but so wild
and unfrequented that no interruption was to be feared. Mr. Neville
being a practised swordsman, Gaunt chose pistols,--a weapon at which the
combatants were supposed to be pretty equal. To this Neville very
handsomely consented.
By this time a stiff and elaborate civility had taken the place of their
heat, and at parting they bowed both long and low to each other.
Griffith left the inn and went into the street; and as soon as he got
there, he began to realize what he had done, and that in a day or two he
might very probably be a dead man. The first thing he did was to go with
sorrowful face and heavy step to Mr. Houseman's office.
Mr. Houseman was a highly respectable solicitor. His late father and he
had long enjoyed the confidence of the gentry, and this enabled him to
avoid litigious business, and confine himself pretty much to the more
agreeable and lucrative occupation of drawing wills, settlements, and
conveyances, and effecting loans, sales, and transfers. He visited the
landed proprietors, and dined with them, and was a great favorite in the
country.
"Justicing day" brought him many visits; so on that day he was always at
his place of business. Indeed, a client was with him when Griffith
called, and the young gentlemen had to wait in the outer office for full
ten minutes.
Then a door opened and the client in question came out, looking
mortified and anxious. It was Squire Peyton. At sight of Gaunt, who had
risen to take his vacant place, Kate's father gave him a stiff nod, and
an unfriendly glance, then hurried away.
Griffith was hurt at his manner. He knew very well Mr. Peyton looked
higher for his daughter than Griffith Gaunt: but for all that the old
gentleman had never shown him any personal dislike or incivility until
this moment.
So Griffith could not but fear that Neville was somehow at the bottom of
this, and that the combination was very strong against him. Now in thus
interpreting Mr. Peyton's manner he fell into a very common error and
fruitful cause of misunderstanding. We go and fancy that Everybody is
thinking of _us_. But he is not: he is like us; he is thinking of
himself.
"Well, well," thought Griffith, "if I am not to have her, what better
place for me than the grave."
He entered Mr. Houseman's private room and opened his business at once.
But a singular concurrence of circumstances induced Lawyer Houseman to
confide to a third party the substance of what passed between this young
gentleman and himself. So, to avoid repetition, the best way will be to
let Houseman tell this part of my tale, instead of me; and I only hope
his communication, when it comes, may be half as interesting to my
reader as it was to his hearer.
Suffice it for me to say that lawyer and client were closeted a good
hour, and were still conversing together when a card was handed in to
Mr. Houseman that seemed to cause him both surprise and pleasure.
"In five minutes," said he to the clerk. Griffith took the hint, and
bade him good-bye directly.
As he went out, the gentleman who had sent in his card rose from a seat
in the outer office to go in.
It was Mr. George Neville.
Griffith Gaunt and he saluted and scanned each other curiously. They
little thought to meet again so soon. The clerks saw nothing more than
two polite gentlemen passing each other.
* * * * *
The more Griffith thought of the approaching duel, the less he liked it.
He was an impulsive man, for one thing; and with such, a cold fit
naturally succeeds a hot one. And besides, as his heat abated, Reason
and Reflection made themselves heard, and told him that in a contest
with a formidable rival he was throwing away an advantage. After all,
Kate had shown him great favor; she had ridden Neville's horse after
him, and made him resign his purpose of leaving her; surely, then, she
preferred him on the whole to Neville: yet he must go and risk his
chance of possessing her upon a personal encounter, in which Neville was
at least as likely to kill him as he to kill Neville. He saw too late
that he was playing his rival's game. He felt cold and despondent, and
more and more convinced that he should never marry Kate, but that she
would very likely bury him.
With all this he was too game to recoil, and indeed he hated his rival
too deeply. So, like many a man before him, he was going doggedly to the
field against his judgement, with little to win and all to lose.
His deeper and more solemn anxieties were diversified by a lighter one.
A few days ago he had invited half the county to bury Mr. Charlton on
Saturday, the 19th of February. But now he had gone and fixed Friday the
18th for a duel. A fine thing, if he should be himself a corpse on
Friday afternoon! Who was to receive the guests? who conduct the
funeral?
The man, with all his faults, had a grateful heart; and Mr. Charlton was
his benefactor, and he felt he had no right to go and get himself killed
until he had paid the last rites to his best friend.
The difficulty admits of course of a comic view, and smells Hibernian;
but these things seem anything but droll to those whose lives and
feelings are at stake; and, indeed, there was something chivalrous and
touching in Griffith's vexation at the possibility of his benefactor
being buried without due honors, owing to his own intemperate haste to
be killed. He resolved to provide against that contingency: so, on the
Thursday, he wrote an urgent letter to Mr. Houseman, telling him he must
come early to the funeral, and be prepared to conduct it.
This letter was carried to Mr. Houseman's office at three o'clock on
Thursday afternoon.
Mr. Houseman was not at home. He was gone to a country-house nine miles
distant. But Griffith's servant was well mounted, and had peremptory
orders; so he rode after Mr. Houseman, and found him at Mr. Peyton's
house,--whither, if you please, we, too, will follow him.
In the first place, you must know that the real reason why Mr. Peyton
looked so savage, coming out of Mr. Houseman's office, was this: Neville
had said no more about the hundred pounds, and, indeed, had not visited
the house since; so Peyton, who had now begun to reckon on this sum,
went to Houseman to borrow it. But Houseman politely declined to lend it
him, and gave excellent reasons. All this was natural enough, common
enough; but the real reason why Houseman declined was a truly singular
one. The fact is, Catharine Peyton had made him promise to refuse.
Between that young lady and the Housemans, husband and wife, there was a
sincere friendship, founded on mutual esteem; and Catharine could do
almost what she liked with either of them. Now, whatever might have been
her faults, she was a proud girl, and an intelligent one: it mortified
her pride to see her father borrowing here, and borrowing there, and
unable to repay; and she had also observed that he always celebrated a
new loan by a new extravagance, and so was never a penny the richer for
borrowed money. He had inadvertently let fall that he should apply to
Houseman. She raised no open objection, but just mounted Piebald, and
rode off to Houseman, and made him solemnly promise her not to lend her
father a shilling.
Houseman kept his word; but his refusal cost him more pain than he had
calculated on when he made the promise. Squire Peyton had paid him
thousands, first and last; and when he left Houseman's room, with
disappointment, mortification, and humiliation deeply marked on his
features, usually so handsome and jolly, the lawyer felt sorry and
ashamed,--and did _not_ show it.
But it rankled in him; and the very next day he took advantage of a
little business he had to do in Mr. Peyton's neighborhood, and drove to
Peyton Hall, and asked for Mistress Kate.
His was a curious errand. Indeed, I think it would not be easy to find a
parallel to it.
For here was an attorney calling upon a beautiful girl,--to do what?
To soften her.
On a daughter,--to do what?
To persuade her to permit him to lend her father L100 on insufficient
security.
Well, he reminded her of his ancient obligations to her family, and
assured her he could well afford to risk a hundred or even a thousand
pounds. He then told her that her father had shown great pain at his
refusal, and that he himself was human, and could not divest himself of
gratitude and pity and good-nature,--all for L100.
"In a word," said he, "I have brought the money; and you must give in
for this once, and let me lend it him without more ado."
Miss Peyton was gratified and affected, and a tear trembled a moment in
her eye, but went in-doors again; and left her firm as a rock sprinkled
with dew. She told him she could quite understand his feeling, and
thanked him for it; but she had long and seriously weighed the matter,
and could not release him from his promise.
"No more of this base borrowing," said she, and clenched her white teeth
indomitably.
He attacked her with a good many weapons; but she parried them all so
gently, yet so nobly, and so successfully, that he admired her more than
ever.
Still, lawyers fight hard, and die very hard. Houseman got warm in his
cause, and cross-examined this defendant, and asked her whether _she_
would refuse to lend her father L100 out of a full purse.
This question was answered only by a flash of her glorious eyes, and a
magnificent look of disdain at the doubt implied.
"Well, then," said Houseman, "be your father's surety for repayment,
with interest at six per centum, and then there will be nothing in the
business to wound your dignity. I have many hundreds out at six per
centum."
"Excuse me: that would be dishonest," said Kate; "I have no money to
repay you with."
"But you have expectations."
"Nay, not I."
"I beg your pardon."
"Methinks I should know, Sir. What expectations have I? and from whom?"
Houseman fidgeted on his seat, and then, with some hesitation,
replied,--
"Well, from two that I know of."
"You are jesting, methinks, good Mr. Houseman," said she, reproachfully.
"Nay, dear Mistress Kate, I wish you too well to jest on such a theme."
The lawyer then fidgeted again on his seat in silence,--sign of an
inward struggle,--during which Kate's eye watched him with some
curiosity. At last his wavering balance inclined towards revealing
something or other.
"Mistress Kate," said he, "my wife and I are both your faithful friends
and humble admirers. We often say you would grace a coronet, and wish
you were as rich as you are good and beautiful."
Kate turned her lovely head away, and gave him her hand. That
incongruous movement, so full of womanly grace and feeling, and the soft
pressure of her white hand, completed her victory, and the remains of
Houseman's reserve melted away.
"Yes, my dear young lady," said he, warmly, "I have good news for you;
only mind, not a living soul must ever know it from your lips. Why, I am
going to do for you what I never did in my life before,--going to tell
you something that passed yesterday in my office. But then I know you;
you are a young lady out of a thousand; I can trust you to be discreet
and silent,--can I not?"
"As the grave."
"Well, then, my young mistress,--in truth it was like a play, though the
scene was but a lawyer's office"--
"Was it?" cried Kate. "Then you set me all of a flutter; you must sup
here, and sleep here. Nay, nay," said she, her eyes sparkling with
animation, "I'll take no denial. My father dines abroad: we shall have
the house to ourselves."
Her interest was keenly excited: but she was a true woman, and must
coquette with her very curiosity; so she ran off to see with her own
eyes that sheets were aired, and a roasting fire lighted in the blue
bed-room for her guest.
While she was away, a servant brought in Griffith Gaunt's letter, and a
sheet of paper had to be borrowed to answer it.
The answer was hardly written and sent out to Griffith's servant, when
supper and the fair hostess came in almost together.
After supper fresh logs were heaped on the fire, and the lawyer sat in a
cosey arm-chair, and took out his diary, and several papers, as
methodically as if he was going to lay the case by counsel before a
judge of assize.
Kate sat opposite him with her gray eyes beaming on him all the time,
and searching for the hidden meaning of everything he told her. During
the recital which follows, her color often came and went, but those
wonderful eyes never left the narrator's face a moment.
They put the attorney on his mettle, and he elaborated the matter more
than I should have done: he articulated his topics; marked each salient
fact by a long pause. In short, he told his story like an attorney, and
not like a romancist. I cannot help that, you know; I'm not Procrustes.
MR. HOUSEMAN'S LITTLE NARRATIVE.
"Wednesday, the seventeenth day of February, at about one of the clock,
called on me at my place of business Mr. Griffith Gaunt, whom I need not
here describe, inasmuch as his person and place of residence are well
known to the court--what am I saying?--I mean, well known to yourself,
Mistress Kate.
* * * * *
"The said Griffith, on entering my room, seemed moved, and I might say
distempered, and did not give himself time to salute me and receive my
obeisance, but addressed me abruptly and said as follows: 'Mr. Houseman,
I am come to make my will.'"
("Dear me!" said Kate: then blushed, and was more on her guard.)
* * * * *
"I seated the young gentleman, and then replied, that his resolution
aforesaid did him credit, the young being as mortal as the old. I said
further, that many disasters had happened, in my experience, owing to
the obstinacy with which men, in the days of their strength, shut their
eyes to the precarious tenure under which all sons of Adam hold
existence; and so, many a worthy gentleman dies in his sins,--and, what
is worse, dies intestate.
* * * * *
"But the said Griffith interrupted me with some signs of impatience, and
asked me bluntly, would I draw his will, and have it executed on the
spot.
* * * * *
"I assented, generally; but I requested him, by way of needful
preliminary, to obtain for me a copy of Mr. Charlton's will, under
which, as I have always understood, the said Griffith inherits whatever
real estate he hath to bequeath.
* * * * *
"Mr. Griffith Gaunt then replied to me, that Mr. Charlton's will was in
London, and the exact terms of it could not be known until after the
funeral,--that is to say, upon the nineteenth instant.
* * * * *
"Thereupon I explained to Mr. Gaunt that I must see and know what
properties were devised in the will aforesaid, by the said Charlton, to
Gaunt aforesaid, and how devised and described. Without this, I said, I
could not correctly and sufficiently describe the same in the instrument
I was now requested to prepare.
* * * * *
"Mr. Gaunt did not directly reply to this objection. But he pondered a
little while, and then asked me if it were not possible for him, by
means of general terms, to convey to a sole legatee whatever lands,
goods, chattels, etc., Mr. Charlton might hereafter prove to have
devised to him, the said Griffith Gaunt.
* * * * *
"I admitted this was possible, but objected that it was dangerous. I let
him know that in matters of law general terms are a fruitful source of
dispute, and I said I was one of those who hold it a duty to avert
litigation from our clients.
* * * * *
"Thereupon Mr. Gaunt drew out of his bosom a pocket-book.
* * * * *
"The said pocket-book was shown to me by the said Gaunt, and I say it
contained a paragraph from a newspaper, which I believe to have been cut
out of the said newspaper with a knife, or a pair of scissors, or some
trenchant instrument; and the said paragraph purported to contain an
exact copy of a certain will and testament under which (as is, indeed,
matter of public notoriety) one Dame Butcher hath inherited and now
enjoys the lands, goods, and chattels of a certain merry parson late
deceased in these parts, and, _I believe_ little missed.
* * * * *
"Mr. Gaunt would have me read the will and testament aforesaid, and I
read it accordingly: and inasmuch as bad things are best remembered, the
said will and testament did, by its singularity and profaneness, fix
itself forthwith in my memory; so that I can by no means dislodge it
thence, do what I may.
"The said document, to the best of my memory and belief, runneth after
this fashion.
"'I, John Raymond, clerk, at present residing at Whitbeck, in the County
of Cumberland, being a man sound in body, mind, and judgment, do deliver
this as my last will and testament.
"'I give and bequeath all my real property, and all my personal
property, and all the property, whether real or personal, I may
hereafter possess or become entitled to, to my housekeeper, Janet
Butcher.
"'And I appoint Janet Butcher my sole executrix, and I make Janet
Butcher my sole residuary legatee; save and except that I leave my
solemn curse to any knave who hereafter shall at any time pretend that
he does not understand the meaning of this my will and testament.'"
(Catharine smiled a little at this last bequest.)
* * * * *
"Mr. Gaunt then solemnly appealed to me as an honest man to tell him
whether the aforesaid document was bad, or good, in law.
* * * * *
"I was fain to admit that it was sufficient in law; but I qualified, and
said I thought it might be attacked on the score of the hussy's undue
influence, and the testator's apparent insanity. Nevertheless, I
concluded candidly that neither objection would prevail in our courts,
owing to the sturdy prejudice in the breasts of English jurymen, whose
ground of faith it is that every man has a right to do what he will with
his own, and even to do it how he likes.
* * * * *
"Mr. Gaunt did speedily abuse this my candor. He urged me to lose no
time, but to draw his will according to the form and precedent in that
case made and provided by this mad parson; and my clerks, forsooth, were
to be the witnesses thereof.
* * * * *
"I refused, with some heat, to sully my office by allowing such an
instrument to issue therefrom; and I asked the said Gaunt, in high
dudgeon, for what he took me.
* * * * *
"Mr. Gaunt then offered, in reply, two suggestions that shook me.
_Imprimis_, he told me the person to whom he now desired to leave his
all was Mistress Catharine Peyton." (An ejaculation from Kate.)
"_Secundo_, he said he would go straight from me to that coxcomb
Harrison, were I to refuse to serve him in the matter.
* * * * *
"On this, having regard to your interest and my own, I temporized: I
offered to let him draw a will after his parson's precedent, and I
agreed it should be witnessed in my office; only I stipulated that next
week a proper document should be drawn by myself, with due particulars,
on two sheets of paper, and afterwards engrossed and witnessed: and to
this Mr. Gaunt assented, and immediately drew his will according to
newspaper precedent.
* * * * *
"But when I came to examine his masterpiece, I found he had taken
advantage of my pliability to attach an unreasonable condition, to wit:
that the said Catharine should forfeit all interest under this will, in
case she should ever marry a certain party therein nominated, specified,
and described."
("Now that was Griffith all over," cried Catharine, merrily.)
* * * * *
"I objected stoutly to this. I took leave to remind the young
gentleman, that, when a Christian man makes his last will and testament,
he should think of the grave and of the place beyond, whither we may
carry our affections, but must leave the bundle of our hates behind, the
gate being narrow. I even went so far as to doubt whether such a proviso
could stand in _law_; and I also put a practical query: what was to
hinder the legatee from selling the property and diverting the funds,
and then marrying whom she liked?
* * * * *
"Mr. Gaunt was deaf to reason. He bade me remember that he was neither
saint nor apostle, but a poor gentleman of Cumberland, who saw a
stranger come between him and his lover dear: with that he was much
moved, and did not conclude his argument at all, but broke off, and was
fain to hide his face with both hands awhile. In truth, this touched me;
and I looked another way, and began to ask myself, why should I
interfere, who, after all, know not your heart in the matter; and, to be
brief, I withstood him and Parson's law no more, but sent his draught
will to the clerks, the which they copied fair in a trice, and the
duplicates were signed and witnessed in red-hot haste,--as most of men's
follies are done, for that matter.
* * * * *
"The paper writing now produced and shown to me--tush! what am I
saying?--I mean, the paper writing I now produce and show to you is the
draught of the will aforesaid, in the hand-writing of the testator."
* * * * *
And with this he handed Kate Peyton Griffith Gaunt's will, and took a
long and satirical pinch of snuff while she examined it.
Miss Peyton took the will in her white hands and read it. But, in
reading it, she held it up and turned it so that her friend could not
see her face while she read it, but only her white hands, in which the
document rustled a little.
It ran thus:--
"I, Griffith Gaunt, late of the Eyrie, and now residing at
Bolton Hall, in the County of Cumberland, being sound in
body and mind, do deliver this as my last will and
testament. I give and bequeath all the property, real or
personal, which I now possess or may hereafter become
entitled to, to my dear friend and mistress, Catharine
Peyton, daughter of Henry Peyton, Esquire, of Peyton Hall:
provided always that the said Catharine Peyton shall at no
time within the next ten years marry George Neville of
Neville's Court in this county. But should the said
Catharine marry the said George within ten years of this
day, then I leave all my said property, in possession,
remainder, or reversion, to my heir-at-law."
The fair legatee read this extraordinary testament more than once. At
last she handed it back to Mr. Houseman without a word. But her cheek
was red, and her eyes glistening.
Mr. Houseman was surprised at her silence; and as he was curious to know
her heart, he sounded her, asked her what she thought of that part of
his story. But she evaded him with all the tact of her sex.
"What! that is not all, then?" said she, quickly.
Houseman replied, that it was barely half.
"Then tell me all, pray tell me all," said Kate, earnestly.
"I am here to that end," said Houseman, and recommenced his narrative.
* * * * *
"The business being done to Mr. Gaunt's satisfaction, though not to
mine, we fell into some friendly talk; but in the midst of it my clerk
Thomas brought me in the card of a gentleman whom I was very desirous to
secure as a client.
* * * * *
"Mr. Gaunt, I think, read my mind; for he took leave of me forthwith. I
attended him to the door, and then welcomed the gentleman aforesaid. It
was no other than Mr. George Neville.
* * * * *
"Mr. Neville, after such gracious civilities as his native breeding and
foreign travel have taught him, came to business, and requested me--to
draw his will."
("La!" said Kate,)
* * * * *
"I was a little startled, but hid it and took his instructions. This
done, I requested to see the title-deeds of his estates, with a view to
describing them, and he went himself to his banker's for them and placed
them in my hands.
* * * * *
"I then promised to have the will ready in a week or ten days. But Mr.
Neville, with many polite regrets for hurrying me, told me upon his
honor he could give me but twenty-four hours, 'After that,' said he, 'it
might be too late.'"
("Ah!" said Miss Peyton.)
* * * * *
"Determined to retain my new client, I set my clerks to work, and this
very day was engrossed, signed, and witnessed, the last will and
testament of George Neville, Esquire, of Neville's Court, in the County
of Cumberland, and Leicester Square, London, where he hath a noble
mansion.
* * * * *