"Patience, and shuffle the cards," said the sleeper in the cave of
Montesinos; and an excellent good rule it was. Our cards want
shuffling; for the trumps have got packed.
A little more than a fortnight after Chandos Winslow had left
Northferry for London, the party assembled at the house of Mr. Tracy
on the evening of a cold January day, consisted of two or three
persons besides his own family. There was the clergyman, Horace
Fleming. There was an old lady, who lived at about twenty miles'
distance, and spent the night there, when she dined--very rich, and
somewhat egotistical. There was her niece, an exceedingly pretty
little girl, without a penny, and totally dependent upon her bounty,
who sang beautifully, and was kept under strict rule by her aunt--a
sort of human singing bird, which old ladies will keep in cages now
and then; and "last, but not least," was Sir William Winslow, who had
come for two days, and had stayed seventeen. Not that he had entirely
passed his time at Northferry; for he had ridden over more than once
to Winslow Abbey, had met lawyers, and agents, and surveyors, and had
received a proposal and nearly concluded an agreement, for selling the
estate, land, park, and house to the law-agent of Viscount Overton,
acting on his lord's behoof. Some little matters remained to be
settled, but nothing of any great importance. The title was to be
taken as it stood; the money was ready to be paid; and the only
question was, whether the timber should be given at a round sum, or be
regularly surveyed and valued. It was altogether an excellent
arrangement; for, although perhaps the price offered was about five
thousand pounds less than the real worth of the property, yet it saved
Sir William the barbarism of pulling down the Abbey; and that was well
worth the money.
These periods of his absence from Northferry, however, were very
short. Sir William brought them to a close as speedily as possible;
agreed to proposals, which nobody thought he would agree to, with a
facility most extraordinary; gave short answers and few words to every
one who applied to him on business, and rode back to Northferry as
soon as by any means he had scrambled through what he had got to do.
Sir William seemed a changed man; and nobody could tell by what means
the alteration had been effected. Most people indeed seemed to like
him, and to wonder at the bad reports which had got about concerning
him; but the cause of this marvellous change must be explained.
It was a change external, not internal. The man was the same; the
demeanour was altered. The same vehement passions were upon him which
had always moved him; but their operation had taken a different
direction. The first day he had passed at Mr. Tracy's, he had given
his arm to Emily, to take her in to dinner, and he had thought her
exceedingly beautiful. The high, pensive character of her countenance,
the voluptuous beauty of her form, the grace of all her movements,
even the coldness of her manner towards himself, had all
excited--however opposite in their apparent tendency--first
admiration, and then passion. He saw her every day; and, with the
uncontrollable impetuosity of his nature, he hurried on, pressing his
suit upon her, only restrained from declaring it openly by the extreme
brevity of their acquaintance. Every time he beheld her, his heart
seemed on fire; every time she spoke to him, her words were
enchantment that he could not resist; every time he touched her hand,
it sent the blood thrilling through his veins; and day by day, and
night by night he drank in draughts of love from her eyes, which
seemed to intoxicate and leave him no command over himself. It was, in
short, more like the passion of some warm eastern land than of our
cold climate; and there was no folly, hardly any impropriety, that he
would not have committed to call her his with as short a delay as
possible.
Emily, indeed, shrank from his fierce and fiery advances, but as he
had yet said nothing, it was impossible to check them as far as she
could have wished. Still she retired from his pursuit; but her very
hesitation and withdrawal seemed to inspire him with fresh vehemence
and ardour; and the strong passion that he felt, all animal as it was,
seemed to grow more and more upon him hour after hour. Mr. Tracy saw
the whole with some uneasiness; for he saw no sign of his daughter
returning the feelings which she had evidently inspired in Sir William
Winslow. He was not at all a man inclined to sacrifice his daughter;
nor was he indeed one, in any ordinary circumstances, to thwart her
inclinations; nor did he feel at all sure, in the abstract, that Sir
William was the man he would himself have chosen for her. Not that the
latter made himself by any means disagreeable; far from it. The bird
plumes his feathers in the eyes of his mate; the tabby cat washes her
face, and smooths her fur for the eyes of her companion, according to
Pope; and the intensity of his feelings, by the unaffected course of
nature, caused Sir William Winslow to display all that was good or
bright in his character, all that might captivate or attract. He was
witty, he was brilliant, he was gay; and the depth of his passion gave
a vigour and profoundness to his thoughts, a figurative splendour to
his expressions, which might well have carried away any heart not
armed and prepared against him. He was certainly very handsome, too;
not that in features or in form he could compare with his brother; but
still, when Chandos was absent, one would hardly be found to say, that
they had seen a finer looking man.
It was on the seventeenth evening of his stay there, that, with the
party I have mentioned, he was seated in the drawing-room, after
dinner. He had placed himself as near Emily as he could, but that was
not exactly at her side; for she had contrived, by an intuitive skill
in the science of defence, to get the old lady on one side of her, and
her uncle on the other. Mr. Tracy was talking to the pretty girl who
sang, and Horace Fleming--very wretched--was speaking in a low voice
to Rose. Rose was charity itself; and somehow, within the last two
months, her eyes had become wonderfully sharpened to what was going on
in people's hearts. What beautiful eyes they were, when she looked
kindly upon one; shining soft and yet bright, like the light of a
planet!
What Mr. Fleming had said I did not hear; but Rose replied, "It will
be of no avail. He can never induce her to like him."
They were the sweetest words Horace Fleming had ever heard; and with
courage renewed he went over, and standing before Miss Tracy, joined
in the conversation with quiet grace, which woke a world of fiends in
Sir William Winslow's bosom.
Now, there was one curse upon Northferry, proceeding directly from the
original sin--the love of the fruit of the tree of knowledge. There
was a post from London twice a-day--excellent for commercial men;
sometimes good for solicitors; always agreeable to gossiping ladies,
young or old; but the greatest annoyance possible in a calm, quiet
little society, where all the business or agitation of the day is as
well got over at once. The second post at Northferry House arrived
about half-past nine; and the moment after Horace Fleming had left
Rose's side, the butler entered with a salver, upon which appeared an
enormous collection of letters, and a newspaper. Mr. Tracy took the
letters, and the General the newspaper. The former apologized for
looking at his correspondence, and the latter was besought by Rose to
see if any one was dead or married.
Poor girl, she did not know what she asked. She was like one of those
who seek to look into fate, and find condemnation in the voice of the
oracle.
General Tracy opened the paper, and turned to seek the important part
which gives so much satisfaction to all ladies; but as he ran his eye
down the columns, it was caught by the words "DUEL AT WIMBLEDON." He
was a soldier, be it remembered; so that he might be excused for
pausing.
"Why, what is the matter, my dear uncle?" asked Emily. "Are you
appointed to the command of the forces in India?"
"No, saucy flower," answered the old officer; "but here is something
in which we shall all take an interest, though a somewhat painful
one--a duel, Sir William, in which one of our acquaintances has
been engaged, with a relation of your own;" and he proceeded to
read,--"This morning, at an early hour, a hostile meeting took place,
near the old mill at Wimbledon, between Viscount Overton and Chandos
Winslow, Esq., younger brother of Sir William Winslow, Bart., of
Elmsly and Winslow Abbey, the consequences of which, we are sorry to
say, are likely to prove fatal"--Rose turned as pale as death; but her
uncle went on--"to the noble Viscount. The cause of quarrel, it
appears, would not admit of any apology on either side; and after
having in vain endeavoured to effect an accommodation on the field,
the seconds, Lord George Lumley and Colonel Sir Henry d'Estragon,
measured the ground; and at the first fire, Lord Overton fell,
severely wounded. The ball penetrated the right side, about six inches
below the clavicle, and is supposed to have lodged under the blade
bone, after having traversed the lungs. The noble Viscount was
promptly attended to by Mr. G--e, who was on the ground; but after
having staunched the effusion of blood, the eminent surgeon advised
the immediate removal of the patient to his house in ---- street, for
further treatment. After having ascertained that his opponent was not
actually dead, Mr. Winslow set out for the continent in a post-chaise
and four, which was in waiting, accompanied by Sir Henry d'Estragon;
and Lord George Lumley has also judged it expedient to absent himself
from London, till the fate of Lord Overton is ascertained. We regret
to say that the report in ---- street, is very unfavourable."
"I thought my brother would not be a fortnight without quarrelling
with somebody," said Sir William Winslow.
"Indeed, Sir William," said General Tracy, who did not love him; "what
made you so prejudge your brother? I have heard him very highly spoken
of."
"A poet shall answer for me, General," replied Sir William Winslow;
who, though the old officer's words did not please him, was unwilling
to take offence at anything said by Emily's uncle;--
"There is a history in all men's lives
Figuring the nature of the times deceased,
The which observed, a man may prophesy,
With a near aim, of the main chance of things
As yet to come to life, which in their seeds
And weak beginnings lie intreasured."
"I judge of my brother by the past, my dear Sir. But it is not for
brother to speak ill of brother; and, therefore, I can but say I am
very sorry for this affair, especially as Lord Overton is a very
popular man in London, and by no means quarrelsome."
"He is not a very popular man in the country," said Rose Tracy,
warmly; "and what you have said, Sir William, is surely quite
condemnatory enough of your brother, without your adding any more."
"We do not yet know the circumstances," said Mr. Fleming, in a mild
tone; "perhaps Mr. Winslow may not have been the aggressor."
"Really Sir, I do not see why you should 'perhaps' the matter,"
answered Sir William Winslow; "I must know my brother best, I imagine.
And I was not aware that clergymen advocated duelling."
"Nor do they, Sir William," replied Fleming; "on that point, both were
equally in fault. But the question was, I think. Who was the aggressor
in the quarrel which led to so sad and criminal a result? You will
excuse me, however, for believing that brothers do not always know
brothers best. Brotherly love is not found in all families; and where
it does not exist, the judgment is apt to be prejudiced."
"Sir, you are a clergyman," answered Sir William Winslow, with marked
emphasis, "and can venture to comment on family disagreements in a way
which others could not do."
"I was utterly unaware that there were any," answered Horace Fleming;
"and sincerely beg your pardon for touching on a subject which,
whatever be the circumstances, must be deeply painful to any
right-feeling man. My observation was intended to be as wide and open
as the day, I assure you."
"It was somewhat pointed for the breadth you give it," was the other's
reply; and turning away with a quivering lip, he crossed the room, and
spoke to the pretty little girl, who was seated not far from the small
table, where Mr. Tracy was reading his letters by a lamp. That
gentleman had not heard a word of all that passed regarding the duel
between his acquaintance, Lord Overton, and Chandos Winslow. There was
something in the very first letter he opened which took the colour
from his cheek; and the second and the third but blanched his face
still more. As the half light of the shaded lamp fell upon his
countenance, the deep line which had indented itself during the last
few minutes between his eyebrows looked like a dark gash, and every
furrow of the brow seemed doubly deep. General Tracy fixed his eyes
upon him with some anxiety; but Mr. Tracy communicated the contents of
his letters to no one; and as soon as Sir William Winslow crossed the
room, he rose and left it, carrying his papers in his hand.
When he reached his library, where a light was always burning at that
time of night, he sunk into a chair, and suffered the letters to drop
upon the floor, murmuring, "Heaven and earth! This is destruction--The
North line, too! To be made responsible for debts I had no share in
contracting, simply because I let them advertise my name as a
director. The Junction down at nothing, and to be abandoned! The
Western branch rejected! Why two hundred thousand pounds will not
cover it!" and he pressed his hand upon his brow, as if to control the
turbulence of thought.
Then he rose and paced the room rapidly, gazing wildly round him at
all the pomp and circumstance of wealth that surrounded him, and
comparing it bitterly with the future beggary which he saw impending.
But ere he had taken more than two or three turns, the door opened,
and his brother entered.
"What is the matter, Arthur?" he said. "Something has agitated you
terribly."
Mr. Tracy stooped, picked up the papers from the floor, and put them
in his brother's hands, with the simple word, "Read!"
General Tracy did read, and his countenance fell for a moment. He
instantly recovered himself. "A heavy loss, Arthur," he said; "and
lost in a very foolish manner. I like plain, straight forward gaming
better than this; but still the affair might be worse. Do not give way
after this fashion. We must meet the matter as it can best be met.
There is enough between you and me to cover more than this; and you
know, my dear Arthur, I have none but you and the two sweet girls--and
that little devil of a boy. A hundred a-year he must have; that I have
settled in my own mind. The girls must have their fortunes. That must
be done; but still the two estates will bear more weight than all
these sums; and if not, there is my pay. Two old men do not need much,
Arthur; and we shall have enough for a beefsteak and a bottle of wine,
notwithstanding."
Mr. Tracy pressed his brother's hand, murmuring, "Oh, Walter, how can
I involve you in my ruin? Besides, large sums will be required
immediately, or I shall be disgraced."
"Poo, poo!" said General Tracy; "no man is ruined so long as he has a
bed to sleep on, clothes to wear, a house to cover him, and food to
eat. We shall want none of these things, Arthur. We shall be as rich
as Sandy Woodyard, who is reckoned very well to do; and, as to raising
large sums, that will be easily done, without any loss of time. But
your thoughts are all in confusion with this unexpected stroke.
Cast the whole from your mind for to-night; come back into the
drawing-room, and do not let either the baronet or the parson see that
you are troubled; sleep quietly over the affair, and we will arrange
the whole to-morrow. I can raise seventy or eighty thousand pounds at
a day's notice. You can double that; and all I can say, my dear
brother, is, that, barring a fair provision for the two girls, I care
not a rush what becomes of the rest. Besides, some of the shares are
worth something. It is not all lost."
"Heaven forbid!" answered Mr. Tracy; "but the actual loss is immense;
more than you know, Walter."
"Oh, no! I see it all," replied the General, glancing again at the
letters. "But it is not so bad. It will be easily managed. The first
sight of bad tidings is always through a magnifying glass. The
spectacles will have fallen off your nose before to-morrow; and in the
mean time shut your eyes to the whole concern. Come along; the people
will think it strange if we are both absent together any longer; and
the dear girls will think it strange, which is worse."
Mr. Tracy suffered himself to be led back to the drawing-room; and
there, by a great effort, so far conquered the busy and rebellious
thoughts within, that his guests did not discover any difference of
manner. His daughters did, indeed; and both Emily and Rose retired to
bed that night thoughtful and sad; for they were well aware that their
father's friendship for Lord Overton was not strong enough for the
intelligence of his being wounded to cause the degree of agitation
they beheld. Rose, too, had her own particular share of sorrow and
anxiety, and her cheek was pale when she arose the next morning, as if
she had known little rest during the night.
With Mr. Tracy, the effect of a night's consideration--for it
certainly was not a night's sleep that he obtained--was to plunge him
into despair. The first blow had been stunning. As not unfrequently
happens with corporeal injuries, it had for a time crushed out the
full perception of the wound; but when he thought of the immediate
pressure, and the future beggary--when he looked all the difficulties
and disgraces which surrounded him in the face, as they stared at him
through his bed curtains, in the midst of the night, his heart sunk
low, low; and his brain had well nigh given way under the anguish of
mind he endured. He was up early the next morning, with the letters in
his hand, and pen and ink beside him, calculating the full amount of
his disaster. It would be tedious to the reader to enter into details
or explanations on the subject--how it happened, or by what means it
was brought about. Suffice it, that he found his ultimate loss would
probably be so large, as to compel the sale of all his estates. That,
if still willing to assist him, his brother must sell, or mortgage
deeply, the family property; and--a matter of much more immediate
concern--that the sum of one hundred and fifty thousand pounds must be
raised within a fortnight, to save him from disgrace. He had taken up
money largely, which must be instantly repaid; and when he thought of
all the tedious processes of the law--the impossibility of hurrying a
transaction of such magnitude--the few persons who were capable, or
would be willing to lend such a sum without full investigation of the
security--the utter improbability of his obtaining it in time, his
brain whirled, and in imagination he saw himself torn away from his
luxurious home, a beggar, a bankrupt, and a prisoner.
He gazed wildly at the window; his daughter Emily passed across from
one green-house to the other--a vision of loveliness. "Better die,"
muttered Mr. Tracy, with his thoughts all whirling; "better die at
once!" and he reached out his hand to the pistols which lay upon the
top of the scrutoire. He looked at them for a moment, laid them down
beside him on the table, and pressed his hand upon his brow. Someone
knocked, and, without waiting for an answer, came in. General Tracy
looked at his brother, advanced to the table, put the pistols in his
pocket, and rung the bell sharply. "Arthur," he said, "you are not
well. We must have the doctor.--Go down immediately to Mr. Woodyard,"
he continued, when the servant appeared, "and tell him I should like
to see him without a moment's delay."
In half an hour more, Mr. Tracy was bled copiously, and found instant
relief.
"Good God!" he said, in a low tone, turning towards his brother, who
was the only person in the room besides the surgeon and himself, "what
was I going to do."
"Now what the devil is all this, Sir," said the surgeon, who had been
perfectly quiet, and even tender with his old friend, till he saw that
he was freed from the imminent danger which had menaced him, but then
instantly resumed his rude familiarity. "You have been about some
cursed folly, Tracy, and burnt your fingers. I know you--I know you!
Every man has some point on which he is a fool; and the wiser he is on
others, the greater the fool he is on that. I can guess what it is; so
there is no use of denying it. That infernal blackguard Scriptolemus
Bond, was not with you a whole morning for nothing, about a fortnight
ago. He has gone to smash; all his bubbles have burst, and he is off
to America with all he could collect. Thank God, he did not get a
farthing from me, though he tried hard; but I know he took you in to
the tune of many thousand pounds; for he told me so, and showed me
some of the drafts."
"That is not the worst of it, my good friend," answered Mr. Tracy, in
a low tone; "there is not one line in which I have taken shares--and I
am sorry to say I have done so to a large extent--which has not fallen
almost to the ground."
"Upon my word, you must be a very unlucky fellow, not to have one
folly escape without punishment," answered the surgeon. But General
Tracy interfered, saying, "There, there, let him alone, Woodyard. He
is not in a fit state of health or mind to be railed at."
"Do you suppose you know better than I do?" asked Sandy Woodyard. "You
are a conceited old gentleman, upon my word. Stick to your own tools,
General. I am determined I will know all about this business; for I
must, and will be informed of what is pressing on my patient's mind."
"It is," replied Mr. Tracy, in a slow, thoughtful tone, "that within
one fortnight, my good friend, I have to pay nearly one hundred and
fifty thousand pounds; and forty-nine thousand pounds thereof within
four days, without time to make the necessary arrangements, almost
without time for thought. I wrote up to sell shares, to meet the
latter sum, at whatever might be the loss; and the answer was that
letter, telling me that the shares I mentioned were a mere drug--worth
nothing in the market. Is not that enough to press hard upon any man's
mind, Woodyard."
"No," answered the surgeon, bluntly, "not unless he be a fool. You've
plenty to meet the demand. You may not be as rich as you have been;
but you have chosen to have your dance, and so you must pay the piper.
As to the forty-nine thousand pounds, you can get somebody to advance
it. If nobody else can be found, I will."
"You!" said Mr. Tracy.
"You, Woodyard!" cried the General.
"Oh, yes--why not?" replied the surgeon; "I'm a poor devil; but I have
got something, and I have made a little more by these same
speculations which have burnt your fingers, Tracy; only you see I
never ventured upon any thing that was not sure--I touched nothing
that was not going--I did not sow a field that was not ploughed and
harrowed. You have nothing to do, therefore, but to let me know the
day, and give me a little bill of sale of your personals and timber to
the amount advanced, and the money shall be ready. Come, come!--do not
lose heart. You will get somebody to advance the other money wanted;
and in the mean time, if I were the General, I would run up to London,
and look after these shares and scrip. I do not believe a word of some
of them not bringing in money yet."
Mr. Tracy pressed his hand for his only reply; but he felt deeply the
worthy man's kindness, the more, perhaps, from the blunt way in which
it was offered.
"There, now, keep yourself quiet, and all will go well," continued
Sandy Woodyard, taking up his hat and cane, and bending his steps
homeward. But Mr. Tracy could not do what the surgeon directed. What
man of lively imagination can ever keep himself quiet when danger is
still impending over him? Who but Washington Irving's Dutchman could
ever batten down the hatches, and sleep out the storm. Mr. Tracy felt
that the storm was not passed yet. The good surgeon had afforded
unexpected relief, it is true; but still the enormous sum to be paid
within one fortnight, without any preparation for it, rose up to his
eyes like the rock of adamant before the ship of Sinbad the sailor;
and he asked himself again and again how it was to be raised, where it
was to be found. There was no answer. Nevertheless, he assumed a
tranquillity which he did not feel; and assuring his brother that he
was better, and his mind relieved of its greatest burden, he went in
with him to breakfast.
Rose was pale; but Emily seemed to have had bright dreams, for seldom
had her beauty been more resplendent. Sir William Winslow sat near and
gazed at her from time to time, with eyes full of passion; and as soon
as breakfast was over, he requested to speak a few words with Mr.
Tracy alone. That gentleman had not yet got his newspapers, and, to
say the truth, was anxious in no light degree to look at the share
list; but he courteously acceded at once, and led the way to his
library. The conference was long; and when the young baronet came out,
his eyes were sparkling and his air triumphant. He ordered his horses
instantly, to ride over to Winslow Abbey; but while he waited at the
door for their coming, he murmured, "She must be mine--she will never
hesitate when her father's safety depends upon it!"
At a furious pace, up hill and down dale, rode Sir William Winslow, to
his old family property, half-killing the groom behind him; and as
soon as he arrived, he asked if Mr. Roberts or Mr. Grubbup, the
law-agent of Lord Overton, had been there.
"Mr. Roberts hasn't been since Thursday last, Sir William," replied
Mrs. Garbett, who opened the hall doors; "but the other gentleman with
the queer name, is in the drawing-room, waiting for you, Sir."
Sir William strode to the drawing-room, horsewhip in hand, as if
meditating mischief; but his salutation of the man of law was, on the
contrary, quite condescending; "Well, Grubbup," he said, "I have just
heard sad news of Lord Overton and my mad brother Chandos."
"Ay, very sad indeed, Sir William," said Lord Overton's agent; "but I
suppose, of course, Sir, you do not take up the quarrel of your
brother in a matter of business."
"Oh, certainly not, Mr. Grubbup," replied Sir William. "I do not take
up his quarrels at all. But what I wished principally to know was
this. How will the transaction between us be affected by the state of
Lord Overton. He was not expected to live, I understand?"
"He is better, Sir William, he is better," answered the man of law.
"There is every hope of his doing well. But even were it not so, I
took a little precaution, luckily, after our last conference, with the
approval of Mr. Roberts, which would render the arrangement binding
upon his heirs, exors, and admors. I drew up this agreement of
purchase and sale, which on Saturday last, not ten minutes before he
went to the opera, I got him to sign. Nothing is wanting but your own
signature, Sir William, and the transaction is complete."
"With the exception of the payment of the money," said Sir William
Winslow; "but that is a very important part, Mr. Grubbup, especially
at the present moment."
"But, Sir William," said the agent, "you know the timber--and it is
only usual--"
"All very well, my good Sir," rejoined the young baronet, whose eyes
had been running over the paper, and who assumed a very decided, not
to say domineering tone; "but I see the question of the timber is
provided for. It is, by this document, to be taken at a valuation,
although I fixed my own valuation before. Let that pass, however; I
will not contest that point. In regard to the payment, I am decided: I
will sign no paper till I am made sure that, by the fifth of next
month, at least one half of the purchase-money shall be paid into my
hands. If you do not make me perfectly sure of that, I will dispose of
the property at once to some one else. You know I have another offer."
Mr. Grubbup looked amazed and confounded; but Sir William Winslow
convinced him he was in earnest, by informing him that he had, in
fact, need of the sum of one hundred and twenty thousand pounds, on
the day named. The man of law was terribly afraid of losing all the
various comfortable pickings, which men of law get out of such
transactions, if he did not comply; but, after a little bush-fighting,
he found means to satisfy Sir William Winslow that all he desired
should be done; and the baronet rode away with a feeling of triumphant
joy in his heart, at the idea of soon possessing her who had inspired
him with a passion which deserved hardly any other epithet than that
of _fierce_.