It was about nine o'clock at night when two persons on foot approached
the little hamlet of Aleton. One of them advanced a little before the
other, as if to reconnoitre; but all was still and quiet in the place;
and even the small public-house, unused, in that remote district, to
late visitors, was closed. Light could be seen within, indeed, through
the chinks of the rude window-shutters; and it is probable that the
latch of the door would have yielded to the hand of any belated
traveller; but there was no other sign of active life to be perceived
without.
The two persons of whom I have spoken, however, passed by the door of
the inn, and approached a house--the only other dwelling which
deserved the name--a little farther on the road to Exeter. Stepping up
to the door, the shorter of the two travellers knocked with his hand;
but the application producing no response from within, he was fain,
though apparently very unwilling to make a noise, to take hold of an
iron wire which hung at the side of the door with a bunch of hammered
iron at the end of it, and give a gentle pull. A tinkling sound was
immediately heard, and then the voice of a woman, saying aloud, to
some one in an inner room, as she moved along the passage--
"I dare say it is nothing but old Drayton dead, and they have come to
talk to you about the funeral."
The next instant, the door was opened; and Van Noost (for he was the
summoner) inquired if Parson Thickett were at home.
"Oh dear, yes, Master Smith," replied the servant (for people even in
those days called themselves Jack Smith when they sought concealment);
"and he will be very glad to see you. He could not think what had
become of you. Is this gentleman your friend?"
Van Noost nodded his head and entered the house, followed by Smeaton.
The maid shut and bolted the door again, and then led them on into the
parson's little parlour, where they found that reverend personage
enjoying himself according to his evening wont. There was one lighted
candle on the table; but the room, though small, was obscure; for a
thick cloud of tobacco-smoke floated in it. On the hob of the vacant
grate lay the pipe from which that smoke had proceeded; and close at
the parson's elbow was a tall bottle containing some sort of spirits,
a plate and knife, with a lemon, and a pot of sugar. Between him and
the candlestick, however, was an open Greek book in old and tattered
binding; for Parson Thickett was an erudite man, notwithstanding some
little failings. In person, he was fatter than Van Noost, and of a
very different sort of fatness. His limbs were large, but seemed
almost disjointed, or at best held loosely together by the lax
integuments that covered them. His stomach was large and prominent,
betraying beneath his cassock--for he was generally in canonicals--a
vast hemisphere of black. His face was somewhat coarse, it must be
acknowledged. He had a large ear and a large lip, and, not contented
with a large chin, he had two of them. There was a good deal of
shrewdness, however, and a certain portion of fun about his grey
watery eye; and his whole face lighted up with jovial good humour as
soon as he saw the statuary.
"Ha, my worthy friend!" he cried, starting up with greater agility
than might have been expected, and grasping Van Noost's hand warmly.
"Where have you been so long? I thought the Philistines were upon you,
by Jove. What of the brasses? What of the monuments? What of the
inscriptions? By Jove, I thought you had left your work half done; and
it might have remained long enough undone for me; for scrubbing brass
and marble is no part of my calling. I love my flock well enough; but,
when once I've got them under ground, I've done with them.--Ha! who is
this gentleman?"
"A friend of mine," replied Van Noost, "who has come to talk to your
reverence about a little business."
"He is welcome," cried the jolly parson. "Sir, you are welcome. We
will talk of business presently. Now, we'll have a bowl of punch, and
fresh pipes.--Betty, Betty!"
Smeaton tried to persuade him that he was in haste, and could not
stay; but Parson Thickett would take no denial.
"I will have my way," he cried, laughing. "I will have my way, by
Jove, for this time. You shall have your way the next time, upon my
sacred word of honour."
"Indeed?" said Smeaton.
"Of a verity," returned the parson, "unless you ask me for the tithe
pig that was brought in this morning. That is a reservation."
The glasses and pipes were brought in, fresh hot water procured, and
the brewing commenced; but, as soon as the door was shut, Smeaton
thought he might as well begin upon the subject of his visit.
"I will, certainly hold the tithe pig reserved," he said; "for I trust
to be able to increase your reverence's store of pigs instead of
diminishing them."
"Ay, indeed!" ejaculated the parson, squeezing a lemon hard between a
pair of pincers. "I think I know what you are come about. I heard all
the news this morning from the packman--how they are up in
Northumberland, and how the King has been proclaimed in Scotland, and
all the rest of it. Well, well. I am no fighting man; but the King
shall have my prayers; and Smith here can tell you that I have well
indoctrinated my congregation. There is not one of them who does not
say, over his beer--or his cider, if he comes from the other side of
the hills--'Here's to him over the water!'"
"Nay, my reverend friend, you are making a mistake," replied Smeaton.
"My business is altogether personal. I want you to perform the
marriage ceremony for myself and a young lady."
"That I will, my lad, that I will," exclaimed the parson, joyously.
"It is the function which I perform most willingly; for there is
always something merry to be said at the beginning, and always
something good to be eaten at the end."
"I fear there will not be, in this instance," observed Smeaton,
gravely; "for no wedding feast will be prepared."
"Never mind, never mind!" retorted the parson. "There is some fun in
matrimony, at all events. I'll buckle you so fast that you shall
neither of you get loose again in a hurry. Give me the names. I'll
have the banns published next Sunday."
"But we do not intend to have any banns either," said Smeaton.
"Better and better!" cried parson Thickett. "You _must_ have a
licence; and that is a fee in my pocket."
"Then you are a surrogate?" said his companion. "That smooths one
great difficulty."
"No, not exactly a surrogate," returned the other, leaving off his
punch-brewing, and growing somewhat interested in the conversation. "I
am a 'peculiar;' that is to say, young gentleman, I have a peculiar
jurisdiction ecclesiastical here, under the dean and chapter of
Exeter. I can grant licences, and prove wills, according to the canon,
being a bachelor of laws, as well as a doctor of divinity, let me tell
you.--Now, thank God for all good things!" he continued. "This is the
first time I have had to exercise my peculiarity--to my own profit, at
least."
The frame of mind which he was in seemed very favourable to Smeaton's
object; but, when the young nobleman, with some precaution, explained
to him fully what that object was, the worthy parson looked somewhat
aghast. The name of Sir John Newark, indeed, was not mentioned; but,
by some way, he jumped at the conclusion that the lady referred to was
Emmeline; and Smeaton did not contradict him. He shook his head
gravely, rolled his fat thumbs round each other for a minute or two,
and then shook his head again. Van Noost, however, came to the rescue,
judging rightly that the first impression of fear would wear off under
the influence of the glass.
"Come, parson," he said, "think of the punch a little. It is getting
cold."
"So it is, by Jove," cried the parson, ladling out the punch. "Here,
take a glass, sir. It will keep up the spirits of both of us; for this
is a bad business."
"Not at all," returned Smeaton, laughing. "It is perfectly right and
proper. All that we require secresy for is to prevent the
intermeddling of persons who have no right to meddle."
"But Sir John Newark is her guardian," said the parson, drinking some
of his punch.
"Not so," replied the young nobleman. "He is no more her guardian than
you are."
"You must have some guardian's consent," said Parson Thickett. "That I
know, because I've got the register of her birth in there--" and he
pointed to a large box in one corner of the room.
"Indeed!" exclaimed Smeaton. "Will you have the kindness to give me a
copy of it? I fancied that Sir John Newark kept the registers at Ale,
and would not let you have them."
"Not he," replied his reverend companion. "A fico for Sir John Newark!
The stingy hound has not asked me to dinner for three years, and
moreover tries to defraud me of my dues. He'll pay no tithes of mint
and cumin, not he. So the last time I had my hand upon the registers I
took them away. He had had them then four years; and that was four
years too many. You shall have a copy. He'll not much like that; and,
if I marry you, there will be an awful explosion."
He finished his speech with a good draught of punch; and Smeaton
remarked:
"I hope there is no 'if' in the case, my good sir. You promised, if I
would let you have your way, you would let me have mine."
"So I did, so I did," cried the priest, with a jolly laugh; "but, upon
my life, you must tell me something more; first, about her being under
age. That is the devil, as you have not got any guardian's consent."
"Nay," replied Smeaton. "There you are mistaken, my reverend friend.
Have the goodness to look at that."
As he spoke, he put into the clergyman's hand a sheet of paper, on
which were written two or three lines, in a fine bold style.
"Ha! What is here?" ejaculated the parson. "Then this is her lawful
guardian, is it?"
"I am ready to swear it," replied Smeaton; "and our good friend here,
whom you know, will testify--"
"Oh, I'll testify anything you like," interrupted Van Noost, drinking
off his punch and holding out his glass. "There, parson, give me some
more, and don't let us have any further objections, there's a worthy
divine. You know you will come to it in the end. We'll find means to
melt you."
"But suppose I do not come to it?" asked Doctor Thickett, looking at
Smeaton. "What will you do then?"
"I have simply one alternative," replied Smeaton gravely. "If you
refuse, I shall go back to Ale, and, authorised as you see by this
paper, take the lady to France with me this very night, as soon as the
moon rises."
"What, unmarried!" exclaimed the priest, with an affected look of
horror. "That cannot be; that cannot be. I _must_ marry you, by Jove,
to prevent scandal."
"Exactly," replied Smeaton, with a smile. "That is in reality my
object. We can be married as soon as we reach Nancy; but I think, on
every account, it would be better that the ceremony should be
performed before we set out."
"Oh, certainly, certainly," replied Doctor Thickett. "Let me look at
that paper again. I want to see how the case stands."
Pushing the punch away from him, he examined the paper accurately, and
at length, lifting his eyes, said:
"You are, then, the Earl of Eskdale?"
"He is none other, upon my say-so," chimed in Van Noost; "and, as we
cannot cast many men out of one mould, as we cast statues, I will
answer for it that there is not a copy of him extant."
The priest, however, was deeply cogitating the contents of the paper.
"This does not exactly say you are to marry her," he observed at
length; "but, as it tells the young lady that, in perfect confidence
of your honour and integrity, she is to do whatever you direct, I
suppose we must take the consent for implied. Well, that is got over.
Now then, the thing is, how to manage it. I don't care a rush for Sir
John Newark; but I think _you_ will find him difficult to manage. How
will you ever smuggle her out of the house, and up here to the church,
between the hours of eight and twelve?"
"I am afraid," replied Smeaton, "that the church must not be the
place, and the hour somewhat different."
"But, my good Lord, my good Lord," said Parson Thickett, "the canon.
You forget the canon. Canon one hundred and four. Why, I should be
punished, and you might be punished, too, by the act affecting
clandestine marriages."
"Which take place every day notwithstanding," added Smeaton.
"Ay, ay, by Hedge parsons, Mayfair parsons, and Fleet parsons, but not
by a regular Doctor of Divinity. Why, I might be suspended for six
months from the execution of my office, and I am not sure that they
would not touch the temporalities. As for the office, deuce take it. I
don't care much for that. I want a trip to London, and that would give
me a holiday."
"Pray, how much might be the value in money of your loss, if
suspended?" asked Smeaton.
"Why, the matter of well nigh fifty good pounds," replied the parson;
"and that is a mat sum to risk."
"It is," assented the young nobleman; "but there is a way of insuring
you against risk, my reverend friend. Suppose that, the moment you
have concluded the marriage ceremony, I put into your hand this little
rouleau, containing one hundred golden guineas of the late queen. You
would be sure enough then. Moreover, the marriage need not be
published immediately in this country; and, even if it were, I believe
that none but the lady's lawful guardian could move in the business
against you."
"That alters the affair very much," said Thickett, with a very comic
twinkle of his eye. "I think it must be done."
"Good," replied Smeaton. "I see we understand each other. Perhaps you
are not fully aware of all the privileges of your peculiar
jurisdiction; but, at all events, in a case like this, now that the
only real and substantial difficulty is removed--that respecting the
consent of the lady's guardian--you must swallow any other little
technical objections, which probably will never be taken notice of."
"Ah, my Lord, you have a winning way with you," said Doctor Thickett;
"but you have not drunk a drop of your punch." And, with a resigned
sigh, he filled himself another glass to the brim.
The rest of the arrangements were soon made. It was agreed that, on
the following night, about the same hour, the worthy Doctor should
walk down to the village of Ale, and there put himself entirely at
Smeaton's command. The register of Emmeline's birth was then produced
and copied; and, rewarding him well for his small trouble, Smeaton
took himself back to Ale with Van Noost.