THE YOUNG HEIRESS.--HARRY COMES OUT IN LONDON NOT UNDER THE BEST OF
AUSPICES.
Mr. Musgrave threw himself into his arm-chair, and crossing his legs,
with a frown of thought on his brow, looked over Dr. Jessop's notes. "I
will go down to-morrow," he said, turning to Paul, who stood before him
eagerly watching his countenance, as if he could there read the probable
fate of his beloved young mistress. "I cannot possibly go to-day; I may
be of some use, but it is doubtful. However, I will send a medicine
which may be efficacious, and suggest to Dr. Jessop how he may treat the
young lady."
"Oh! sir, cannot you come, cannot you save her?" exclaimed Paul, not
understanding what the doctor had said, but only making out that he was
unable to accompany him back.
"Yes, yes, my friend," answered the doctor, touched by the old soldier's
earnestness, "To-morrow I'll start. I must go in a post-chaise, I
cannot ride express as you do. Now go down, and my man Mumford will
attend to your wants while your horse is fed. In the meantime, I will
look out the medicines, and write a letter to my good friend Dr. Jessop.
Will that satisfy you? Now do go, my good man, do go."
Paul could with difficulty get down any food, but at the same time his
experience told him that when work was to be done the body must be fed.
He thought the doctor was a long time in concocting the medicine, but
hoped that it would be more efficacious in consequence.
When once mounted, with the medicine in a case slung at his back, he did
not spare his speed. His only fear was falling. A horse had been sent
on to Winchester to meet him. He exchanged it for his tired steed.
Winchester was soon passed through and Southampton reached. Shortly
after leaving the latter place, he encountered Harry Tryon, with a led
horse, coming to meet him. He mounted it gladly, for his own was
already tired, and together they galloped back through the forest.
Harry was afraid that Miss Lucy was worse. At all events, they were
anxiously looking out for the doctor or his remedies. The Colonel met
them at the hall-door steps. His face was very grave and anxious. He
was disappointed at not seeing the doctor, but eagerly took the case of
medicines.
"Paul, you saved my life once, and by God's providence you may be the
means of paving my daughter's. His will be done, whatever happens."
Dr. Jessop was in attendance. The remedies sent by the London doctor
were administered, but Lucy was very weak. Harry asked Dr. Jessop what
he thought.
"My boy, doctors at all times must not express their thoughts," he
answered, evasively. "Miss Everard is young, and youth is a great thing
in a patient's favour. Remember that, and make a good use of yours
while you enjoy it."
The guests with sad hearts took their departure. The long-expected ball
was not to be. Messages were sent round to the residents in the
neighbourhood, informing them that the ball was put off, but in the
evening several who had not heard of what had occurred arrived at the
door. The Colonel went down to speak to them himself. It was with
difficulty he could command his voice, for he saw, with the eye of
affection, that his beloved daughter was struck by the hand of death.
Among others, a party of foreign officers arrived from a neighbouring
town. Captain Everard begged his uncle that he might be allowed to go
and speak to them. Refreshments had been placed for those who might
come from a distance, and they were accordingly invited in. They were
gentlemanly men, and Captain Everard received them as a man of the
world. Having mentioned the serious illness of Miss Everard, he at once
turned the conversation to other subjects. Among the guests, he saw one
whose face was familiar; he looked at him again and again, and was
trying to consider where he had seen him. The officer at length became
aware that Captain Everard's eyes were fixed on him.
"Surely we have met before," said the latter. "Was it not at Toulon?"
A deep melancholy came over the foreigner's countenance.
"It may be, for I was there once," he answered; "would that I had died
there, too; but my life was saved by a brave English officer, who, at
the risk of his own, carried me away amid showers of musketry poured
down upon us by my countrymen, and amidst exploding ships, and masses of
burning ruin which showered down upon our heads. Tell me, sir, are you
that officer? for as you know well, my mind was unhinged by the dreadful
events of that night, and though I have a dim recollection of his
features, if you are he, you will recollect that I had scarcely
recovered when he was compelled to send me to the hospital."
"Yes, indeed," cried Captain Everard, "I had the satisfaction of saving
the life of a French officer in the way you describe. Captain Rochard,
I understood, was his name, and although he remained several weeks in my
cabin, all that time he was scarcely conscious of what was taking place
around him."
"Yes, yes, I am the very man," exclaimed the foreign officer, rising
from his seat, and taking Captain Everard's hand in his own. "Let me
now express my gratitude to you, which I was at that time unable to do.
I have since then lived a chequered and adventurous life, and though I
dare not contemplate the past, I feel that there is still pleasure and
satisfaction to be found in the present. While a spark of hope remains
in the bosom of a man, he cannot desire death."
The other officers seemed much interested at the meeting between their
friend and the English captain. Captain Rochard, they said, had joined
them, and one or two had known him formerly when he was in the French
marine, and they were convinced that he would do credit to their corps.
Harry Tryon had come to the house twice before in the day to inquire for
Lucy; he now returned with the Baron de Ruvigny, who really looked
dejected and almost heartbroken at the illness of the young lady. Harry
had exchanged a few words with Mabel; they were parting words, so we
must not too curiously inquire into what was said. He had been,
however, anxious to remain a few days longer, but Lady Tryon insisted on
setting off the next day for London. He once more rejoined the Baron at
the hall-door. He found him standing with the foreign officers, whom he
had invited to spend the rest of the evening at Lynderton. Harry was of
course asked to join the party. Captain Everard was parting from them
at the hall-door, and as the light fell on Captain Rochard's features
Harry was sure that he was an old acquaintance. Captain Rochard dropped
a little behind his companions as they walked down the avenue, and Harry
took this opportunity of addressing him.
"We have met before, Captain Falwasser," said Harry; "I am sure that I
am not mistaken, and you were very kind to me on one occasion when I was
a boy."
"Ah!" answered the Captain, with a start, "that was my name; I will not
deny it; that is to say, it was my name for a time, and it may be my
name again; but at present I must beg you will know me as Captain
Rochard, the friend of your relative--is he not?--Captain Everard."
"I will be careful to obey your wishes, Captain Rochard," said Harry;
"but Captain Everard is not a relative."
Harry felt himself blushing as he said this, for he certainly hoped that
he might be so some day. Harry felt very curious to know who this
Captain Rochard could possibly be. He had known him, apparently, as the
commander of a smuggler; now he found him in the character of a military
officer. "Perhaps, after all, he may be neither one nor the other,"
thought Harry; "there is a peculiarly commanding and dignified air about
him."
The evening was spent very pleasantly, for although the young Baron was
sad at heart, he endeavoured to overcome his feelings, for the sake of
entertaining his guests, and music and pleasant conversation made the
hours pass rapidly away. The officers of the foreign legion had neither
the inclination nor the means of imitating the example of British
military officers, who at that time, and on such an occasion, would have
spent the evening in a carouse. A few glasses of lemonade was probably
the extent of the entertainment afforded by the host, or expected by the
guests.
The next morning Harry found himself on the box of Lady Tryon's coach,
rumbling away towards London. Her lady's-maid was inside. The footman
sat on the box with Harry. Even the beautiful forest scenery through
which they passed failed to raise Harry's spirits. He was constantly
looking back in the hopes of catching a glimpse of the chimneys of
Stanmore; not that he could really have seen them, by-the-bye, but his
heart flew, at all events, in the direction of his eye. He thought,
too, of dear sweet Lucy lying on her sick-bed, too likely, he feared, to
prove her death-bed.
The road was none of the best in those days, and Harry and the footman
had often to get off and help the carriage along. This was a relief,
however. They each had a brace of pistols, and a blunderbuss was strung
at the back of the box. Harry, however, had a strong suspicion that
Simon, the footman, would be very unwilling to use it, even in defence
of the matured charms of Miss Betsy Frizzle, her ladyship's much
suffering and much enduring handmaiden. Sometimes the journey occupied
three days, but her ladyship was in a hurry, and her carriage being
unusually light, and the roads in tolerably good order, they were only
to sleep one night on the road.
Harry had been so constantly away from home for the last few days, that
he had had no conversation with his grandmother. As they were seated at
tea in their inn, the old lady again spoke of his marriage with Mabel.
"I told you, Harry, that the Colonel's daughter would die. I knew it
long ago. I saw it in her eye, and her voice told me that she was not
to live many years in this world. Thus, mark me, Miss Mabel will become
the mistress of Stanmore. Now, Harry, I intend to leave you all I have
got, so that you may cut a figure in the world. You are like your
father in face and figure, and I love you on that account. He was more
a man of the world than you are, or will ever become, I suspect. Let me
tell you it is an important thing to know the world well. I do, and
have no great respect for it in consequence; but I know how to manage
it, and that's what I want you to do. You will have many opportunities
in London; I must beg that you will not throw them away. You may be the
possessor of a large fortune, and yet unless you know how to manage it,
it may be of little use to you. Many a man, with three or four thousand
a year, does more than others with thirty or forty thousand. I would
have you also, Harry, pay every attention to the wishes of your
guardian, Mr. Kyffin. He is a very respectable man, and will probably
save money, and as far as I can learn, as he has no other relations of
his own, he will undoubtedly leave it to you. Thus I hope that you may
be very well off. Still both Mr. Kyffin and I may live for a good many
years. When he last called for you in London I examined his
countenance, and considered him a remarkably hale and healthy man, while
I myself feel as well as I ever did in my life. However, I don't wish
to think of the time when you will come into my property."
Harry, of course, begged that the old lady would not think of such an
event, and declared himself ready to enter some profession, by which he
might make himself independent of the expected fortunes of his friends.
He thought that he might like the law. Life in London and in dusty
chambers was not exactly what he had been accustomed to, but still,
where an important object was to be gained, he was ready to submit to
anything. Lady Tryon laughed at the notion. He might certainly eat his
dinners at the Inns of Court and live in dusty chambers, but as to
making anything by so doing, the idea was preposterous. A young fellow
like him, of good family and presentable appearance, must marry an
heiress. He was fit for that, and nothing else.
Harry saw that there was no use discussing the matter with his
grandmother. He resolved, however, to talk it over with his guardian as
soon as they met. He saw that the old lady had some project in her
head, which she had resolved to keep secret from him. It must be
confessed, he was very glad when her ladyship rang for Betsy Frizzle,
and retired to her room. They arrived next day late in the evening at
Lady Tryon's house, in the middle of ---Street.
Harry set off the next day to visit Mr. Roger Kyffin, of Hampstead. He
found that the coach ran twice in the day to that far-distant suburb.
It was a pleasant drive, among green fields, here and there a smiling
villa, but otherwise with few buildings. Mr. Kyffin had not come back
from the city when Harry arrived, but his careful housekeeper received
him with every attention, and insisted on his partaking of some of her
preserves and home-made wine, just to give him an appetite for supper,
as of course her master always dined in London.
At last Mr. Kyffin arrived. He was much pleased with Harry's
appearance. They spent a very pleasant evening. Harry could not help
contrasting the conversation of his guardian with that of his
grandmother--the man of business, so unworldly, and with a heart so full
of warm affection, anxious for the welfare of his fellow-creatures,
while the old lady with one foot in the grave was truly of the earth--
earthy. Harry did not exactly say as much as this to himself, but he
felt it, notwithstanding. Roger Kyffin was very much pleased to hear of
Harry's wish to enter a profession. "I would not have you decide in a
hurry," he said, "and you must consider for what you are best fitted.
You know that I, as far as I have the power, will help you to the
utmost--on that you may depend. Further than that, Harry, I don't wish
to bias you." Harry slept at Mr. Kyffin's, a pretty little cottage, and
accompanied him the next day back to London. He found that the mornings
hung somewhat heavily on his hands; the evenings, too, were not spent in
a way particularly agreeable to him, as Lady Tryon insisted on his
accompanying her to the routs and other parties she frequented. He had
a dislike to cards, and could never learn to play, so she had not
insisted on his joining her, but she spent the whole of the evening at
the card-table. He saw, however, from the piles of gold placed before
her that she was playing high; how high he could not tell; but very
often she returned home in an unusually bad humour, when he found it
safer to keep silence than to attempt any conversation with her.
At this time, ladies of fashion, as well as gentlemen, were fearfully
addicted to the vice of gambling. The law was doing its utmost to put
down public hells, but it was unable in general to stop the practice in
private houses, in consequence of the difficulty of obtaining evidence.
One evening Lady Tryon had been at the house of the Countess of
Buckinghamshire, to which Harry had, very unwillingly, been compelled to
accompany her. As usual, gambling went on, a gentleman of fashion
keeping the faro-table. Harry saw by the expression of his
grandmother's countenance that she was a heavy loser. The more she
lost, the higher stakes she seemed inclined to play for.
"Let the old lady have her way," he heard a gentleman near whom he was
standing observe, "a little bleeding will do her no harm."
The Countess's handsome rooms were full of people of rank and fashion.
Tables were scattered about on each side with eager players, some
engaged in cards, others casting the dice, while others stood round
staking considerable sums on the turn of a card or throw of the ivory.
All of them seemed brought together by one absorbing passion, which they
shared with the stockbrokers of Change Alley and the frequenters of the
lowest hells. A few like Harry might have been compelled to go there
against their will--young daughters to attend their mothers, who were
leading them into vice, and a few like Harry who had no money to stake.
As he looked at the group of excited beings with sparkling eyes, the
rouge cheeks of the ladies, with here and there a black patch to hide a
blemish, or to set off the fairness of their skins; the haggard faces of
the men, with their perukes pushed on one side, their lips puckered,
pressed close together, many of them holding the cards with trembling
knees, evidently with one foot in the grave, Harry could not help hoping
that he might never become like one of them, and he longed once more to
be back at Stanmore in the company of Mabel. He thought, too, of her
dying cousin, for the last account which had been received gave no hopes
of her recovery, and every day he expected to hear that she was no more.
He was thankful when at length he received Lady Tryon's commands to
order her coach. She was in a worse humour even than usual.
"Fortune won't desert me," she said at length, as they were nearing
home; "there's another chance; I intend to purchase some lottery
tickets: they can bring me through, though nothing else can, unless,
Harry, when you marry the little heiress you take care of your old
grand-dame; you owe her something for bringing you up as a gentleman,
for if I had not taken you up you would have been even now a merchant's
clerk in the city! Faugh! that such should be the fate of a grandson of
General Tryon."
Harry did not venture to remark that her ladyship's brother was a
merchant, and probably had been a merchant's clerk in his younger days;
however, he thought as much.