Miss Clifford is made acquainted with her uncle's embarrassments by
Captain Hayward.
As soon as the maid had taken herself away, Ned Hayward said in a kind
and feeling tone, "I fear I have distressed you much, Miss Clifford;
let us walk quite to the other end and talk over this matter; for I
have only been hurried into revealing this painful fact by my anxiety
to consult with some one as to the possibility, if not of remedying
the existing evil, at least of preventing it from going further."
Mary walked on by his side in silence, with her hands clasped and
her eyes cast down with a look of deep thought; but at length she
looked up, saying in a tone of one communing with himself--"Is it
possible? what, with this fine property? But how can it be, Captain
Hayward?--here he is, with an estate of at least eight thousand a year
in his own possession, to do with it what he chooses."
"To explain all, I had better tell you what I have heard," said her
companion. "The tale may be false; I trust part of it is so; but a
great part must be true; and the man spoke as if from authority. The
first part of their conversation was in a light tone; for a time the
lawyer seemed to avoid grappling with the subject, and asked his
companion after madam, in not the most respectful manner. The captain
replied, she was very well, and in the other room; but pressed the
lawyer to the point. He turned away again, and inquired whether
Captain Moreton had been successful at the card-table lately. He
answered, 'Tolerably; he had won a thousand pounds just before he came
from London;' but then added, 'Come, come, Wharton, no bush-fighting;
you know you owe me five hundred pounds, and I must have it.' To this
the lawyer answered: 'No, indeed, Captain Moreton, you are mistaken; I
have told you so twice: the property was sold to a client of mine; and
if I had chosen to send in my whole bill, your father would have been
greatly my debtor instead of I being yours. The sum given was
fifty-four thousand pounds; forty thousand went to pay off the
mortgage and your debts; twelve thousand your father had; and my bill,
together with that of the solicitor's of the opposite party, amounted
in fact and reality to two thousand four hundred and seventy-two
pounds. You recollect, I had not been paid for six years.'
"The next thing I heard," continued Ned Hayward, "was a loud laugh;
and then Captain Moreton exclaimed, 'Your client! Wharton! very good,
very good, indeed; you must think me exceedingly green: I know as well
as possible who bought the property for two-thirds of its value;
employed other solicitors for a fictitious client; pocketed one-half
of their bill, and added thereto a bill of his own, which was more
than the double of what he was entitled to--come, come, Sir; don't
affect to sham a passion, for we have business to talk upon, and that
of a serious kind. You are just going to sell the property again for
the full value; and, before you do so, you shall disgorge a little.'
The lawyer attempted to bluster, but unsuccessfully; for when he asked
how Captain Moreton would stop him from selling the property, even if
all he said were true, that worthy gentleman reminded him that his
signature had been necessary to one of the papers, and then when he
asserted it had been given, informed him with a laugh, that the
signature he had obtained was that of a marker at a billiard-table;
the lawyer's clerk sent after him to Paris, having been unacquainted
with his person. Mr. Wharton attempted to show that it was of no
consequence; but the matter so far ended by his giving a check for
five hundred pounds, on Captain Moreton's signing another paper, which
I suppose was drawn up in the room, for a silence succeeded for some
minutes. A part of what took place then was not distinct; and I
certainly made no effort to hear it."
"But my uncle," said Miss Clifford, "how does this affect my uncle?"
"He came upon the carpet next," replied Ned Hayward; "Captain Moreton
asked who was going to buy the property; and when the lawyer made a
mystery of it, saying that he really did not know the true parties,
but that Doctor Miles had meddled in the business, the other named Sir
John as the probable purchaser. There at Mr. Wharton laughed heartily,
and said, 'I'll tell you what, Captain, Sir John Slingsby is at this
moment next thing to a beggar.'"
Mary put her hands before her eyes and turned very pale.
"Forgive me, my dear Miss Clifford," continued Ned Hayward, "for
repeating such unpleasant words; but it is better you should hear all.
I will hasten, however: Captain Moreton affected not to believe the
tale; and then the lawyer went on to mention the facts. He stated that
your uncle's property was mortgaged to the utmost extent, that the
interest of two half years would be due in four or five days; that
notice of fore-closure had been given, and the time would expire
before six weeks are over, that there are considerable personal debts,
and that Sir John had written to him this very day to get a further
advance of ten thousand pounds, which are absolutely necessary to
stave off utter ruin even for a short time. Now I happen to know that
Sir John did actually write to this man; and as Mr. Wharton could have
no object in deceiving the person he was speaking to, I fear the tale
is too true."
"Good heavens! what is to be done?" exclaimed Mary Clifford; "Oh,
Captain Hayward, how terrible it is to know this, and not to be able
to assist!"
Captain Hayward paused a single instant and then replied with a look
of deep feeling and interest, "Perhaps I ought not to have told you
this, Miss Clifford," he said; "but I am a very thoughtless person, I
am afraid, and yet I did not do this without thought, either; you know
that I have a deep regard for your uncle, he was a very kind friend to
me in days gone by, but having observed him well and with that
accuracy which, strange as it may seem to say, is only to be found in
extreme youth; I know that it is perfectly in vain to talk with him on
the subject of his embarrassments, unless at the very moments when
they are the most pressing and severe. To talk with him then may be
too late. He is one of those--and there are many of them--who, with a
hopeful disposition, many resources in their own minds, and a happy
faculty of banishing unpleasant thoughts, go on from one difficulty to
another, finding means through a great part of life of putting off the
evil day, and who, thinking the chapter of accidents inexhaustible,
come suddenly to a full stop in the end, with all their resources
exhausted and no possible means of disentangling themselves from their
embarrassments. It has been his constant axiom for twenty years, to my
certain knowledge, that something would turn up, and when such is the
case, it is perfectly in vain to attempt to consult with a person so
circumstanced as to the means of extricating him from difficulties, of
which he always expects to be delivered by a lucky chance. Having
found Fortune his best friend, he goes on trusting to her, till the
fickle dame deserts him, and then looks around in bewilderment for
assistance which cannot arrive."
"Too true a picture, too true a picture," replied Miss Clifford, in a
sorrowful tone; "I have seen it myself, Captain Hayward, and have been
grieved to see it."
"Well, do not let us grieve, but act, my dear lady," said Ned Hayward;
"let us consult together, and see what can be done, good Sir John must
be saved at any cost."
"But what can I do, Captain Hayward?" she inquired. "Perhaps you do
not know that the whole of my fortune is tied up by my father's will
so strictly, that I can dispose of nothing till I have reached
one-and-twenty years of age; and though I would willingly, most
willingly, sacrifice any thing to relieve my uncle, I am as powerless
in this business as a child."
"This is unfortunate, indeed," said Ned Hayward, in reply, "very
unfortunate, I had hoped that you had command of your own property, or
that you might be able to point out one, who would be able and willing
to take this mortgage and relieve your uncle."
"I know of no one, no one on the earth," she answered; "my mother's is
but a jointure; I am not of age for nine or ten months, and before
that time it will be all over."
"The security is perfectly good," continued Ned Hayward in a musing
tone, as if he had not heard her, "and I feel very sure that the
property is worth a great deal more than this man has advanced,
or any of his clients, as he calls them. Otherwise it would not have
been done. We should easily find some one, I think, to take the
mortgage, if we could but pay this cursed interest and stop the
fore-closure--perhaps at a less per centage, too--that man is a rogue,
I am sure, and we may very likely cut down a great many of the
charges; for I feel very certain he has been purposely entangling good
Sir John, till at length, when he thinks there is no possibility of
escape, he pounces upon him to devour him."
"But what is to be done? what is to be done?" reiterated Miss
Clifford.
"Well, it does not matter," said Captain Hayward, in the same
thoughtful tone; "I'll tell you what we must do: I have a sum sixteen
thousand pounds in the funds. Ten thousand, it seems, will be wanted
for the most pressing matters--we will call it twelve thousand; for no
man in your uncle's position reckons very closely what is needed, and
his calculation is always below instead of above the mark. I will go
up to town and sell out; that will put off matters for six weeks or
two months; and, in the meantime, we must set all our wits to work for
the purpose of finding some one who will take the mortgage at
reasonable terms, and of putting your uncle's affairs altogether into
order."
"Oh! how can I thank you, Captain Hayward?" said Mary Clifford,
putting her hand upon his arm; "indeed, indeed, I am very grateful."
"Without the slightest occasion," replied Ned Hayward. "I wish to
Heaven I had the means of taking the mortgage myself; but the fact is,
my poor father--as good a man as ever lived--was too kind and too easy
a one. He put me very early into what is called a crack-regiment,
which in plain English means, I suppose, a regiment likely soon to be
broken, or, at all events, likely to break those that enter it. I had
my expensive habits, like the rest, and never fancied that I should
not find five or six thousand a-year, when I returned from Gibraltar
at my father's death. Instead of that, I found the unentailed property
totally gone; the entailed property was mine, as I was the last of my
race; but there were debts to the amount of forty thousand pounds; but
if I did not pay them, who would? The men would have had to go without
their money; so I sold the property, paid the debts, put the little
that remained, between fifteen and sixteen thousand pounds, in the
funds, and have lived within my income ever since. Thus, you see, I
have not the means of taking the mortgage."
Mary Clifford cast down her eyes, and was silent for a minute or two;
for there were very strong emotions at her heart--sincere respect and
admiration; more powerful, far, than they would have been had she
conceived a high opinion Ned Hayward's character at first, or if he
had made a parade of his feelings and his actions. He treated it also
lightly, however, so much as a matter of course, both what he had done
and what he was about to do, that many an ordinarily minded person
would have taken it on his own showing, and thought it a matter of
course too. But Mary Clifford was not an ordinarily minded person, and
she felt deeply.
"But what will you do yourself, Captain Hayward?" she said, at length;
"my uncle will be long before he is able to repay you, and the want of
this sum may be a serious inconvenience to you, I fear."
"Oh! dear, no," replied Ned Hayward, with the easiest air in the
world, "I shall have four thousand pounds left, which will enable me
to get upon full pay again, and, though this is a sad peaceful time we
are in, may have some opportunity afforded me. I had held this sum,
which I put by, quite sacred, and would never touch a farthing of it,
though I was very much tempted once or twice to buy a fine horse or a
fine picture; but cut off as I am, my dear Miss Clifford, by my want
of fortune, from forming those ties which are the comfort and
happiness of latter years to most men, I may as well go and serve my
country as well as I can to the best of my power, as linger out my
days in hunting, and shooting, and fishing, reading poetry, and
looking at pictures. Sir John will pay me when he can, I know; for he
will look upon it as a debt of honour; and, if he never can, why, it
can't be helped; at all events, I do not wrong my heirs, for I have
got none;" and he laughed right cheerfully.
Mary Clifford looked in his face with a smile; it was a sort of
philosophy so new to her, so good, so generous, so self-devoted, and
yet so cheerful, that she felt strongly infected by it. She had been
bred up amongst people and by people equally good, equally generous in
all great things; but somewhat rigid in smaller ones; severe, if not
stern; grave, if not harsh; and they had committed the sorrowful
mistake of thinking, and of trying to teach her to think, that true
piety is not cheerful. Her father had been the person from whose
breast this spring of chilling waters had been welled forth; and
Mary's mother, though originally of a gay and happy disposition, had
been very much altered by the petrifying influence of the stream. The
contrast, too, in Mrs. Clifford's case, between her brother and her
husband; the one of whom she might love, but could not respect; the
other whom she loved and respected, nay, somewhat feared, tended to
clench her mistake, which the dean had striven to implant; and to make
her believe that cheerfulness and folly, if not vice, were companions
rarely separate. Mary Clifford saw the mistake now, though her own
heart had told her long before that an error existed somewhere. But
she felt, at the same time, that she also had a part to play towards
one who sacrificed so much for the nearest relation she had except her
mother; and with a beaming smile upon her lips, she said:
"Captain Hayward, I shall never forget your conduct this day; but, at
the same time, you must not run any risk, or be any loser. If I had
any power over my own fortune, I would do what you are now kind enough
to do; but, at all events, I give you my word, that, the moment I am
of age, I will repay you."
"Oh, I dare say Sir John will do that," answered Ned Hayward, "but, at
all events, my dear young lady, pray say nothing to him on this
subject till the last moment. We must let the matter press him very
hard before he will hear reason; then, when he sees no means of escape
whatever, he will consent that others shall find one for him. You had
better talk to his daughter, but enjoin her to secrecy. If I have an
opportunity, I will sound Beauchamp; I have a notion that he is rich;
I feel very sure he is liberal and kind, and may take the mortgage
if he finds it a reasonable security. That it is so, I am quite
certain--nay, more, I am convinced, that if Sir John would let me
manage all his affairs for him for one year, I would remove all his
difficulties, and leave him a better income, in reality, than he has
had for a long while. But now I must run away and leave you, for I see
the people are getting up about the place, and I have two important
pieces of business to do before noon."
"Indeed," said Mary, struck by something peculiar and indefinable in
his manner; "I hope nothing unpleasant?"
"I will tell you what they are," said Ned Hayward, in a gay tone; "and
then you shall judge for yourself. I have, first, to catch the largest
trout in the river; I made a bet last night with your uncle that I
would do so, and I always keep my engagements; and then I have to make
ready for London to sell out this money."
"But need you go yourself?" said Miss Clifford, with a look of
interest; "can you not send?"
"True, I can," said Ned Hayward, "I never thought of that--but yet I
had better go myself.--Good bye, good bye!" and he turned away; then
pausing for a moment, something which he struggled against, got the
better of him, and, coming back, he took Mary Clifford's hand in his,
and pressed it gently, saying, "Farewell! There are some people, Miss
Clifford, whose society is so pleasant, that it may become dangerous
to one, who must not hope to enjoy it long or often."