"though I cannot say much for the sign. That was not the way brave
Anthony looked at Stony Point. May I ask the favour of your name?"
The stranger looked at first as if unaccustomed to this question, and
unwilling to answer it. However, after a pause, he deigned to designate
himself as Mr. Culpepper, and slightly mentioned the four young men as
his nephews, the Mr. Lambleys. There was a family likeness throughout
the brothers. They were all tall and slender--all had the same
fawn-coloured hair, the same cheeks of a dull pink, the same smiling
mouths habitually turned up at the corners, and faces that looked as if
all expression had been subdued out of them, except that their
greenish-gray eyes had the earnest intent look, that is generally found
in those of dumb people.
Mr. Culpepper was conducted into a parlour, where (though the evening
was far from cold) he expressed his satisfaction at finding a fire. He
deposited on the broad mantel-piece a small red morocco box which he had
carried under his arm, and while his nephews (who had all been to see
the baggage deposited) were engaged in disrobing him of his extra
habiliments, he addressed himself to Colonel Brigham, whom he seemed to
regard with particular complaisance.
"Well, landlord," said he; "you are, perhaps, surprised at my stopping
here?"
"Not at all," said the colonel.
"The truth is," pursued Mr. Culpepper, "I am travelling for my health,
and therefore I am taking cross-roads, and stopping at out of the way
places. For there is no health to be got by staying in cities, and
putting up at crowded hotels, and accepting invitations to
dinner-parties and tea-parties, or in doing anything else that is called
fashionable."
"Give me your hand, sir," said Colonel Brigham; "you are a man after my
own heart!"
The four Mr. Lambleys stared at the landlord's temerity, and opened
their eyes still wider when they saw it taken perfectly well, and that
their uncle actually shook hands with the innkeeper. This emboldened
them to murmur something in chorus about their all disliking fashion.
"And pray," said old Culpepper, "why should you do that? 'Tis just as
natural for young people to like folly, as it is for old people to be
tired of it. And I am certain you have never seen so much of fashion as
to be surfeited with it already."
The nephews respectfully assented.
It had already come to the knowledge of Mrs. Brigham (who was busily
occupied up stairs in filling with new feathers some pillow-ticks which
Fanny was making) that a party of distinguished strangers had arrived.
"Fanny, Fanny," she exclaimed, opening the door of the adjoining room,
in which Fanny was seated at her sewing, "there are great people below
stairs. Get fixed in a moment, and go down and speak to them. I am glad
your father has had sense enough to take them into the front parlour."
"But, mother," replied Fanny, "I saw them from the window when they got
out of the stage. They are all men people, and I know I shall be
ashamed, as they are quite strange to me, and I suppose are very great
gentlemen. Won't it suit better for you to go?"
"Don't you see how the feathers are all over me?" said Mrs. Brigham: "it
will take me an hour to get them well picked off, and myself washed and
dressed. Get fixed at once, and go down and let the strangers see that
the women of the house have proper manners. If you think you'll feel
better with something in your hands, make some milk punch, and take it
in to them."
Fanny's habitual neatness precluded any real necessity for an alteration
in her dress--but still she thought it expedient to put on a new glossy
blue gingham gown, and a clean muslin collar with a nicely plaited frill
round it. This dress would have been very well, but that Fanny, in her
desire to appear to great advantage, added a long sash of red and green
plaid riband, and a large white satin bow deposited in the curve of her
comb. Then, having turned herself round three or four times before the
glass, to ascertain the effect, she descended the stairs, and in the
entry met Oliver, who had just come in at the front door, and had seen
from the barn-yard the arrival of the guests.
"Fanny," said Oliver, "why have you put on that great white top-knot? It
makes you look like one of the cockatoos in the Philadelphia Museum. Let
me take it off."
"Oh! Oliver, Oliver!" exclaimed Fanny, putting her hands to her head,
"how you have spoiled my hair!"
"And this long sash streaming out at one side," pursued Oliver, "how
ridiculous it looks!" And he dexterously twitched it off, saying,
"There, take these fly-traps up stairs--they only disfigure you. I
thought so the other day when you wore them at Mary Shortstitch's sewing
frolic. You are much better without them."
"But I am _not_," said Fanny, angrily snatching them from his hand;
"look how you've crumpled them up! Instead of finding fault with me for
wishing to look respectfully to the strangers, you had best go and make
yourself fit to be seen."
"I always am fit to be seen," replied Oliver, "and you know very well
that I always do put myself in order as soon as I have done my work. But
as for dressing up in any remarkable finery on account of four or five
strange men, it is not in my line to do so. If, indeed, there were some
smart girls along, it would be a different thing: but it is not my way
to show too much respect to any man."
"I believe you, indeed," remarked Fanny.
"Well, well," said Oliver, "your hair is pretty enough of itself--and
you fix it so nicely that it wants no top-knot to set it off; and this
party-coloured sash only spoils the look of your waist. I hate to see
you make a fool of yourself."
Fanny tossed her head in affected disdain, but she smiled as she ran up
stairs to put away the offending ribands. She found her mother leaning
down over the banisters, and looking very happy at Oliver's desire that
Fanny should not make a fool of herself.
Fanny, having prepared the milk-punch in the best possible manner,
filled half a dozen tumblers with it, grating a profusion of nutmeg over
each, and then arranged them on a small waiter. When she entered the
parlour with it, Mr. Culpepper, who called himself a confirmed invalid,
was engaged in giving her father a particular description of all his
ailments; and the four nephews were listening with an air of intense
interest, as if it was the first they had heard of them.
"This is my daughter, Fanny," said Colonel Brigham, and Mr. Culpepper
stopped short in his narrative, and his nephews all turned their eyes to
look at her. When she handed the milk-punch the old gentleman declined
it, alleging that the state of his health did not permit him to taste
any sort of liquor. His nephews were going to follow his example, till
he said to them peremptorily--
"Take it--there is nothing the matter with any of you. If there is, say
so."
The Mr. Lambleys all rose to receive their tumblers, their uncle having
made them a sign to that purpose, and Fanny thought herself treated with
great respect, and curtsied, blushingly, to every one as he set down his
glass.
"From such a Hebe it is difficult to refuse nectar," said the old
gentleman, gallantly.
"A Hebe, indeed!" echoed the nephews.
The uncle frowned at them, and they all looked foolish--even more so
than usual.
"Now, Fanny, my dear," said her father, "you may go out, and send in
Oliver."
"Mother," said Fanny, as she joined Mrs. Brigham in the pantry, "I like
these strangers quite well. They were very polite indeed--but they
called me _Phebe_--I wonder why?"
When Oliver made his appearance, Colonel Brigham introduced him as "a
boy he had raised, and who was just the same as a son to him." Mr.
Culpepper surveyed Oliver from head to foot, saying, "Upon my word--a
fine-looking youth! Straight--athletic--brown and ruddy--dark hair and
eyes--some meaning in his face. See, young men--there's a pattern for
you."
The four Mr. Lambleys exchanged looks, and tried in vain to conceal
their inclination to laugh.
"Behave yourselves," said the uncle, in a stern voice.
The nephews behaved.
The supper table was now set, and Mr. Culpepper had become so gracious
with his landlord, as to propose that he and his nephews should eat with
the family during their stay. "That is what my guests always do," said
Colonel Brigham; "and then we can see that all is right, and that they
are well served."
When supper came in, Mr. Culpepper declined leaving the fire-side; and
having previously had some cocoa brought from one of his travelling
boxes, and prepared according to his own directions, he commenced his
repast on a small round table or stand, that was placed beside him,
declaring that his evening meal never consisted of anything more than a
little cocoa, sago, or arrow-root.
But after taking a survey of the variety of nice-looking things that
were profusely spread on the supper-table, the old gentleman so far
broke through his rule, as to say he would try a cup of tea and a rusk.
When Mrs. Brigham had poured it out, the four nephews, who at their
uncle's sign manual had just taken their seats at the table, all started
up at once to hand him his cup, though there was a black boy in
attendance. The business was finally adjusted by one of the Mr. Lambleys
taking the tea-cup, one the cream-jug, one the sugar-dish, and one the
plate of rusk; and he of the cup was kept going all the time, first to
have more water put into it, then more tea, then more water, and then
more tea again. The invalid next concluded to try a cup of coffee, to
counteract, as he said, any bad effects that might arise from the tea;
and he ventured, also, on some well-buttered buckwheat cake and honey.
He was afterwards emboldened to attempt some stewed chicken and milk
toast, and finally finished with preserved peaches and cream.
All these articles were carried to him by his nephews, jumping up and
running with an _empressement_, that excited the amazement of Mrs.
Brigham, the pity of Fanny, the smiles of her father, and the
indignation of Oliver.
The females retired with the supper equipage; and finding that Colonel
Brigham had served in the war of independence, Mr. Culpepper engaged him
in recounting some reminiscences of those eventful times; for the
veteran had seen and known much that was well worth hearing.
The Mr. Lambleys, unaccustomed to feel or to affect an interest in
anything that was not said or done by their uncle, looked very weary,
and at last became palpably sleepy. They all sat in full view, and
within reach of old Culpepper, who, whenever he perceived them to nod,
or to show any other indication of drowsiness, poked at them with his
cane, so as effectually to rouse them for a time, causing them to start
forward, and set their faces to a smile, stretching up their eyes to
keep them wide open.
At last the colonel, who was much amused by the absurdity of the scene,
came to a full pause. "Go on," said Culpepper, "never mind their
nodding. I'll see that they do not go to sleep."
The colonel, out of compassion to the young men, shortened his story as
much as possible, and finally, on Mrs. Brigham sending in the black boy
with bed-candles, Mr. Culpepper looked at his watch, and rose from his
chair. The nephews were all on their feet in a moment. One tied the old
man's fur tippet round his neck, to prevent his taking cold in ascending
the staircase, another put on his hat for him, and the two others
contended for the happiness of carrying his cloak. "What are you about?"
said Mr. Culpepper; "do not you see my greatcoat there on the chair?
Take that, one of you."
He bade good night, and the procession began to move, headed by Peter,
the black boy, lighting them up stairs.
As soon as they were entirely out of hearing, Colonel Brigham, who had
with difficulty restrained himself, broke out into a laugh, but Oliver
traversed the room indignantly.
"I have no patience," said he, "with such fellows. To think that
full-grown men--men that have hands to work and get their own living,
should humble themselves to the dust, and submit to be treated as
lacqueys by an old uncle (or, indeed, by anybody), merely because he
happens to be rich, and they expect to get his money when he sees proper
to die, which may not be these twenty years, for it is plain that
nothing ails him. 'I'd rather be a dog and bay the moon,' as I once
heard an actor say in the Philadelphia play-house. Now I talk of
Philadelphia; I have engaged all our next barley to Wortley & Hopkins.
They pay better than Maltman & Co. But these Lambleys, Sheepleys
rather--I saw them from the barn, handing the old fellow out of the
stage. I almost expected to see them lift his feet for him; I was glad
he scattered them all as soon as he had got down the steps. I dare say
if he rides on horseback, they all four run beside him and hold him on
his horse. Now I talk of horses, I've concluded to keep the two bay
colts, and raise them myself. Tom Martingale shall not have them for the
price he offers. To see how these chaps fetch and carry, and rise up and
sit down, just at that old fellow's beck. It would be harder work for me
than following the plough from sunrise to sunset, were I obliged to do
so. Now I talk of ploughing; I bought another yoke of oxen yesterday,
and hired a Dutchman. I shall put the five-acre field in corn. That old
villain! you may see by his eye that he is despising them all the time.
Why should not he? ninnies as they are. I wonder where they all came
from? I do not believe they are Americans."
"And yet," said Colonel Brigham, "they do not speak like Englishmen, and
I am sure they are neither Scotch nor Irish."
"I hear them all pacing about up stairs in the old fellow's room," said
Oliver; "think of four men putting one man to bed, or of any one man
allowing four to do it. But 'their souls are subdued to what they work
in,' as I heard another play-actor say. By-the-bye, the old rogue has
forgotten his red box, and left it on the mantel-piece. I wonder what is
in it?"
"Maybe it is full of gold money," said Mrs. Brigham, who had just
entered the room with Fanny; the daughter proceeding to put back the
chairs, while the mother swept up the hearth.
"Bank notes rather," said Oliver.
"Jewels, I think," said Fanny.
"Deeds of property, perhaps," said the colonel.
"Well, well," said Mrs. Brigham, "'tis time for all good people to be in
bed, so we'll let the strangers and their box rest till to-morrow."
"I think," observed the colonel, "the box had best be carried up to
them. Take it, Oliver."
"I just heard the young men leave their uncle's room to go to their
own," said Mrs. Brigham. "May be it won't do to disturb him, now he's in
bed."
"Then let it be taken to the young men," returned the colonel. "Where
have you put them?"
"I told Peter to show them all to the four-bedded room, at the other end
of the house," answered Mrs. Brigham, "as they seemed to be alike in
everything. I supposed they always prefer sleeping in the same place.
All the four beds have exactly the same blue and white coverlets."
"Well," said Oliver, "I'll take them the box as I pass their room on the
way to my own. But I must go first to the stable, and see how Sorrel's
foot is; I cannot be satisfied if I do not look at it once more
to-night."
The other members of the family now retired to their apartments, and
Oliver took a lantern and went to the stable, to inspect again the state
of the disabled horse.
When the four Lambleys waited on their uncle out of the parlour, they
all perceived that the old gentleman had for the first time forgotten to
take the red morocco box with him, and they all exchanged glances to
this effect, being used to each other's signs. After they had gone
through the tedious process of seeing him to bed, and carefully folding
up his numerous garments, they held a consultation in their own room;
and, accustomed to acting in concert, they concluded that as soon as the
house was quiet, they would all go down stairs together and bring up the
red box. Fortunately for them, they knew Mr. Culpepper to be a sound
sleeper (notwithstanding his constant assertions to the contrary), and
that he always went to sleep as soon as he was in bed.
When they came into the parlour, where all was now dark and silent, they
set their candle on the table, and taking down the red box, one of them
said, "At last we have an opportunity of satisfying ourselves."
"Tis the first time," said another, "that the box has ever been out of
the old villain's possession. How strange that he should not have missed
it! He must have had something in his head more than usual to-night."
"He even forgot to take his lozenges before he went to bed," said the
third.
"James," said the fourth, "did you slip the little key out of his under
waistcoat pocket, as I signed to you to do while you were folding it
up?"
"To be sure I did," replied James, "here it is," (dangling it by the red
ribbon that was tied to it). "But do _you_ open the box, George, for I
am afraid."
"Give me the key, then," said George, "for we have no time to lose."
"What a lucky chance!" said Richard Lambley.
"Now," said William, "we shall learn what we have been longing to
discover for the last five years."
The key was turned, and the box opened. A folded parchment lay within
it, tied round with red tape. Each of the brothers simultaneously put
out a hand to grasp it.
"One at a time," said the elder, taking it out and opening it; "just as
we suspected. It is the old fellow's will, regularly drawn up, signed
and witnessed."
They looked over each other's shoulders in intense anxiety, while the
eldest of the brothers, in a low voice, ran over the contents of the
parchment. There was a unanimous exclamation of surprise that amounted
almost to horror, when, after the usual preamble, they came to some
explicit words by which the testator devoted the whole of his property
to the endowment of a hospital for idiots. They had proceeded thus far,
when they were startled by the entrance of Oliver, who saw in a moment
in what manner they were all engaged. They hastily folded up the will,
and replaced it in the box, of which they directly turned the key,
looking very much disconcerted.
"I was coming," said Oliver, setting down his lantern, "to get that box
and take it to you, that you might keep it safe for your uncle till
morning. I have been detained at the stable longer than I expected,
doing something for a lame horse."
There was a whispering among the Lambleys.
"Very well," said one of them to Oliver, "the box can stand on the
mantel-piece till morning, and then when my uncle comes down he can get
it for himself. He must not be disturbed with it to-night; and no doubt
it will be safe enough here."
The truth was, they were all justly impressed with the persuasion, that
if Mr. Culpepper knew the box to have been all night in their room, he
would believe, as a thing of course, that they had opened it by some
means, and examined its contents. Servility and integrity rarely go
together.
They whispered again, and each advanced towards Oliver, holding out a
dollar.
"What is this for?" said Oliver, drawing back.
"We do not wish you," said one of the Lambleys, "to mention to any one
that you found us examining this box."
"Why should I mention it?" replied Oliver; "do you suppose I tell
everything I see and hear? But what is that money for?"
"For you," said the Lambleys.
"What am I to do for it?"
"Keep our secret."
Oliver started back, coloured to his temples, contracted his brows, and
clenching his hands, said, "I think I could beat you all four. I am sure
of it. I could knock every one of you down, and keep you there, one
after another. And I will; too, if you don't put up that money this
instant."
The Lambleys quickly returned the dollars to their pockets, murmuring an
apology; and Oliver paced the room in great agitation, saying, "I'll go
west. I'll go to the backest of the back woods; nobody there will
affront me with money."
The Lambleys hastily replaced the red box on the mantel-piece, and
taking an opportunity when Oliver, as he walked up and down, was at the
far end of the room, with his back to them, they all stole past him, and
glided up stairs, to talk over the discovery of the night.
Having no longer the same motive for submitting to the iron rule of
their uncle, they were eager to be emancipated from his tyranny, and
they spent several hours in canvassing the manner in which this was to
be effected. They had not candour enough to acknowledge that they had
inspected the will, nor courage enough to break out into open rebellion;
still, knowing what they now did, they feared that it would be
impossible for them to persevere in their usual assiduities to Mr.
Culpepper, for whom they could find no term that seemed sufficiently
opprobrious.
Habit is second nature. The morning found them, as usual, in their
uncle's room to assist at his toilet, with all their accustomed
submission. The one that had purloined the key of the red box, took care
to contrive an opportunity of slipping it unperceived into the pocket,
as he unfolded and handed Mr. Culpepper his under waistcoat.
After he was shaved and dressed, and ready to go down stairs, the old
gentleman suddenly missed the red box, and exclaimed, "Why, where is my
box? What has gone with it? Who has taken it?"
The nephews had all turned their faces to the windows, and were
steadfastly engaged in observing the pigeons that were walking about the
roof of the porch.
"Where's my red box, I say?" vociferated the old man. "Go and see if I
left it down stairs last night. A thing impossible, though.
No--stay--I'll not trust one of you. I'll go down myself."
He then actually _ran_ down stairs, and on entering the parlour where
the breakfast table was already set, and the family all assembled, he
espied the red box standing quietly on the mantel-piece.
"Ah!" he ejaculated, "there it is. I feared I had lost it." And he felt
in his waistcoat pocket to ascertain if the key was safe.
To Mrs. Brigham's inquiry, of "how he had rested," Mr. Culpepper replied
in a melancholy tone, that he had not slept a wink the whole night. On
her asking if anything had disturbed him, he replied, "Nothing whatever;
nothing but the usual restlessness of ill health." And he seemed almost
offended, when she suggested the possibility of being asleep without
knowing it.
Though he assured the family, when he sat down, that he had not the
slightest appetite, the bowl of sago which had been prepared by his
orders was soon pushed aside, and his breakfast became the counterpart
of his supper the night before.
In taking their seats, the Lambleys, instead of their customary amicable
contention, as to which of them should sit next their uncle, now, in the
awkwardness of their embarrassment, all got to the other side of the
table, and ranged themselves opposite to him in a row. Mr. Culpepper
looked surprised, and invited Fanny and Oliver to place themselves
beside him.
The four young men were very irregular and inconsistent in their
behaviour. As often as their uncle signified any of his numerous wants,
their habitual sycophancy caused them to start forward to wait on him;
but their recent disappointment with regard to the disposal of his
wealth, and their secret consciousness of the illicit means they had
made use of to discover the tenor of his will, rendered them unable to
watch his countenance, and anticipate his demands by keeping their eyes
on his face as heretofore.
Their uncle saw that they were all in a strange way, and that something
unusual was possessing them, and frequently in the midst of his talk
with Colonel Brigham, he stopped to look at them and wonder. Something
having reminded him of a certain ridiculous anecdote, he related it to
the great amusement of the Brighams, who heard it for the first time.
Mr. Culpepper, on looking over at his nephews, perceived that instead of
laughing in concert (as they always did at this his favourite joke),
they all appeared _distrait_, and as if they had not paid the slightest
attention to it. He bent forward across the table, and fixing his keen
eyes upon them, said, with a scrutinizing look, and in an under tone,
"you have been reading my will."
The poor Lambleys all laid down their knives and forks, turned pale, and
nearly fell back in their chairs.
"Don't expose yourselves farther," whispered Culpepper, leaning across
to them, "I know you all;" and then turning to Colonel Brigham, he with
much _sang froid_ pursued the conversation.