Mr Darnley's study overlooked the avenue which led to the house. For a
study it was not well situated, inasmuch as it was next to impossible
for any one but a person of great powers of abstraction to keep himself
free from interruption. The situation however was very well adapted to
the humour of the rector of Neverden; for thus he could observe every
one who approached the house, and exercise a continual superintendance
over his establishment, seeing that no one could enter or leave the
house without his knowledge.
At the study window Robert Darnley took his station, looking listlessly
towards the road that passed the end of the avenue and led towards
the village of Smatterton. Turning a little towards the left hand he
could see at a very short distance the magnificent towers of Smatterton
castle and the smart gilt weathercock of Smatterton church. The young
man was beginning to grow sentimental and melancholy; but soon his
thoughts were diverted from sentimentality by the appearance of Nick
Muggins and his pony fumbling their clumsy entrance at the great white
gate that opened into the road. Better riders than Nick are sometimes
puzzled at opening a heavy swing gate on horseback; but Nick would
always manage it without dismounting, if he had to make twenty efforts
for it.
Nick was certainly a picturesque, though by no means a poetical object;
and his appearance dispersed the gathering cloud of lackadaisicalness
which was just threatening Robert Darnley with a fit of melancholy.
Other thoughts, though bearing on the same object, now took possession
of him; and as he was very straitforward and prompt in whatever
occurred to him, he immediately resolved to question the boy concerning
the lost letters.
For this purpose, without waiting for the arrival of the letter-carrier
at the house-door, Robert Darnley went partly down the avenue to meet
him. Nick made one of his best bows, and grinned his compliments
to the young gentleman on his arrival in England; for this was the
first meeting of the parties since the rector's son arrived at home.
Robert Darnley was not a man of compliments; he proceeded directly to
business. Producing from his pocket the letter which had been picked up
by the little girl, he held it out to the lad, saying:
"Muggins, can you give any account of this letter; it was picked up in
the road the other day; do you ever drop the letters out of the bag?"
Muggins, who was as cunning a rogue as many of his betters, concealed
his conviction and shame as well as might be, and took the letter into
his hand with much simplicity of look, and gazed upon it for a while
with "lack-lustre eye;" not that he had any great need to examine the
letter in order to answer the question, but thereby he gained time to
meditate a lie of some kind or other. After looking at it for a few
moments he handed it back to Robert Darnley, and said:
"Please, sir, I can't make out the 'rection of it."
That might be true, but it was not much of an answer to the question
which was proposed to him.
"The direction of the letter," answered Darnley, "is to Miss Primrose
at Smatterton. Now do you remember ever losing a letter that should
have been delivered at the rectory at Smatterton?"
Nick Muggins, we have related, was so melted by the condescending
kindness of Penelope Primrose, that his heart smote him sorely for
his unfaithfulness to his trust, and he was on the very verge of a
confession of his iniquity; but then Penelope was not likely to
horsewhip him, whereas there did appear to the sagacious mind of the
treacherous letter-carrier some possibility of such operation being
performed by the more vigorous arm of Robert Darnley; and as such a
catastrophe must be exceedingly unpleasant to a man of any feeling,
Nick resolved to use his utmost sagacity to avoid it. The question
therefore, which was last proposed, he answered thus:
"I've took a great many letters to Smatterton parsonage, sir, and I
don't never remember losen none as I took there."
Here again was an equivocation worthy of the Right Honorable Lord
Spoonbill himself. Robert Darnley thought that Nick Muggins was a fool,
but Nick was not such a fool as he looked. He had prodigiously fine
diplomatic talents, but 'Full many a flower, &c.' as the poet says.
All the questions and cross-questionings of the son of the rector of
Neverden could not extort from the carrier of the Smatterton and
Neverden letter-bags any information leading to the discovery of the
circumstances to which the interruption of the correspondence might
be attributed. In despair of ascertaining anything, Robert Darnley
ceased his interrogations, and the uncouth rider of the indescribable
beast then handed to his interrogator his share of the contents of the
letter-bag. It was only one letter, and the superscription was in an
unknown hand.
The young gentleman opened the letter with great eagerness of
curiosity, and looking to the end of it he found that it was anonymous.
He endeavoured to read and comprehend the whole by one glance, but it
did not betray its meaning so obviously; he was therefore under the
necessity of reading it regularly line by line. We are not much in the
habit of printing letters--we think it a breach of confidence; but, as
the present is anonymous, we venture to give it:
"A sincere well-wisher to Mr Robert Darnley, though a total stranger,
or nearly so, wishes to caution an unsuspicious and generous mind
against a deep-laid plot, which has for its object to entrap Mr D.
into a marriage, which will bring with it poverty and disgrace. It may
not be altogether unknown to Mr D. that a certain gentleman, who shall
be nameless, once ruined a handsome fortune by gaming. This gentleman
now professes to have repaired his shattered fortunes, and to have
forsaken entirely his vicious habit. But this is mere pretence. Nearly
the whole of that which he acquired abroad, he has in a short time lost
by gambling at home; and now he gives out that his loss arises from
the stoppage of a banking-house in town. Concerning the character of
a young lady nearly related to the gentleman above alluded to, Mr D.
would do well to make the strictest inquiry before he ventures on the
irretrievable step of marriage. Mr D. ought to ascertain why Smatterton
is chosen for her residence. The ---- family is not residing at the
castle, but it is possible that an individual of that family may find a
pretence for an incognito visit there. A word to the wise is enough."
A letter such as this was almost too much for Robert Darnley. He
was honest, candid, and unsuspicious; but even in such minds as his
jealousy may be excited, and the above letter very nearly answered the
purpose.
Instead of going directly to Smatterton, according to his first
intention, he returned to the house, and read over and over again this
mysterious and anonymous epistle. But there was nothing in it which
could afford him the slightest information as to the source from whence
it came, or the motive with which it could have been written.
It was peculiarly mortifying, after the magnanimous, prompt, and
decided avowal which he had made to his father, of his intention of
renewing his acquaintance with Miss Primrose, that he should meet with
this painful and perplexing interruption. He began to wish that he
had not been quite so positive. He supposed that of course his father
took it for granted that the threatened visit to Smatterton would
be paid that very morning. And he had dreaded meeting the family at
dinner, should the visit have been paid; but still greater would be his
mortification to meet his father again and be forced to acknowledge
that he had not been to Smatterton. It would be but natural to ask if
he had been there, and quite as natural to ask why he had not.
The answer to these enquiries would involve the young gentleman in a
dilemma, to extricate himself from which would require the talents
of a Muggins, or a Spoonbill. But Robert Darnley was not cut out for
shuffling and equivocating. His only consideration was, how far it
might be prudent to inform his father of the receipt of the anonymous
letter.
For the purpose of giving himself time for uninterrupted meditation, he
sauntered out from the house, and, as it were unconsciously, turned
his steps towards the village of Smatterton. And he thought, as he
walked along, that it would take several days at least, if not some
weeks, to ascertain the truth or falsehood of the insinuations. He knew
not where to seek for information, or how to gain evidence either on
one side or the other. If he should not very soon make a visit to Mr
Primrose, it would seem manifest that his intention was not to renew
the acquaintance with Penelope; and very mortifying indeed would it be
to him, if, after making enquiries and finding that the insinuations
of the anonymous letter were unfounded, malicious and mischievous, he
should, by his tardiness or mean suspicions, have forfeited the good
will of the young lady.
Fortunate for him was it, that while he was thinking on the subject of
this anonymous communication, and putting the case that it might be
the work of some malicious and ill-designing one, there occurred also
to his recollection the lost letter which had been picked up by a
stranger. With the recollection of that came also again to his mind the
image and tone and look of the crafty letter-carrier, and the shuffling
evasive answers which the cunning dog had given to his interrogatories.
Wise and penetrating reader, who can'st dive most deeply into human
motives, and read the movements of the human heart, we beseech thee
not to impute it to stupidity or obtuseness in our friend Robert
Darnley, that he could not sooner see the probability of the existence
in some quarter or other of a spirit of treachery at work against him.
His own mind was of a very unsuspicious cast, and he was not in the
habit of looking for deeply-laid schemes, but he gave general credit
to appearances and ordinary assertions. He was not unaware of the
existence of roguery, or of the circulation of unfounded reports, but
he did not look very commonly and cunningly for tricks and falsehood
in the everyday movements of human life. But when he once had ground
for suspicion, he had sagacity enough to pursue the investigation, and
prudence enough not to be deceived when once put on his guard.
He thought again of the anonymous letter, and he knew that there was
no individual residing in London sufficiently acquainted with him to
have written this letter for his sake. He thought of the intercepted
letters, and of the allusion to Lord Spoonbill, and he thought of none
so likely to have intercepted those letters as Lord Spoonbill himself.
An apprehension of something near the truth now came firmly and
distinctly upon his mind.
Under the impression of this thought, he moved somewhat more rapidly
and decidedly towards Smatterton, almost resolving that he would
actually call at once on Mr Primrose, and renew his acquaintance with
Penelope. He thought that he possessed penetration enough to discover
if there were in the young lady's deportment and carriage any symptoms
of a diminished or impaired moral feeling.
It would not be much out of his way to go through the park, and as
there was a footpath passing very closely by the castle, he designed to
take that route, that, if meeting any one of the domestics, he might
be able to ascertain whether or not Lord Spoonbill was expected at
Smatterton.
Not many steps had he taken with this intention before he had the
satisfaction of meeting the unfaithful Nick Muggins, shuffling back
from having delivered up his charge. Nick saw the young gentleman, and
would gladly have avoided the meeting; but there was no way of escape,
except by going back again to Smatterton, and that was quite out of
the question, for at the public-house of that village he had spent his
last allowable minute. Finding that the encounter must take place,
Nick whistled himself up to his highest pitch of moral fortitude, and
put spurs to his beast. He might as well have struck his spurs against
a brick wall. The rough-coated quadruped had been too long in the
service of government to be put out of his usual pace by Nick's spurs,
and these said spurs had been long enough in the service of Muggins to
have lost their virtue.
Nick's next resource was to give Mr Robert Darnley the cut indirect,
and to ride on without seeing him. But that was no easy matter in a
narrow unfrequented road. Before the rogue could resolve what to do,
the parties were together, and Robert Darnley, advancing into the
middle of the road, gave command to the lad to stop. Disobedience of
course was not to be thought of; and though the consciousness of guilt
and the suspicion of accusation made him tremble, yet the necessity of
concealment rendered him very cautious of betraying any emotion.
The appearance of Robert Darnley's countenance was at this interview
very different from what it had been an hour or two ago. For, in the
first instance, he had been merely making an unsuspicious enquiry, and
his interrogations had been more for the purpose of gaining information
than for fixing an accusation. Now, he felt as if he were examining a
criminal, and he directed a stern enquiring look towards the uncouth
varlet, who blinked like an owl in the sunshine and seemed to be
looking about for something to look at; for he was ashamed to look at
Robert Darnley, and afraid to fix his eyes elsewhere.
"Muggins, have the goodness to dismount," said the young gentleman;
"I wish to have a little talk with you."
That was a movement by no means agreeable to Mr Muggins, who would
thereby be brought into closer and more perilous contact with an ugly
ill-looking elastic knotted cane, which was bending under the pressure
of Mr Darnley's hand. Muggins therefore, in answer to this command,
said with all the coolness he could muster:
"Please, sir, I maan't stay long."
"Nonsense," replied Darnley; "dismount, I tell you."
Now Muggins thought that if he was destined to receive a caning for a
violation of his trust, he need not add to his troubles by provoking
Mr Darnley to administer an extra application to him for refusing to
dismount. Down therefore came Nick, and at the word of command fastened
his horse to a gate-post.
"Now, Muggins," said Robert Darnley, "if you don't tell me the
truth, I will cane you as long as I can stand."
"Sir?" said Muggins, in a tone of well-feigned astonishment, and with
the accent of interrogation.
"Will you tell me the truth, sir?" repeated the interrogator.
"What about, sir?" asked Muggins.
That question does by no means redound to the credit of Muggins; for
had he been a truly honest lad, he would have been ready to tell the
truth on any subject.
"What about!" echoed Darnley; "about those letters, to be sure, which
you ought to have delivered at the rectory at Smatterton. Tell me what
you did with them, this moment."
A threatening aspect accompanied, and a threatening attitude followed
this speech. Muggins gave himself up for lost. If he called out
"murder," there was none to assist him; running away was an absolute
impossibility; resistance would be vain; and shuffling would no
longer answer the purpose. It is astonishing how powerfully present
considerations overwhelm and command the mind. If Muggins could have
mustered up sufficient energy of purpose to resist the threats of
the son of the rector of Neverden, he might afterwards have laid his
case before the Right Honorable Lord Spoonbill, by whose interest he
might have gained promotion, or by whose liberality he might have been
handsomely rewarded. But all other thoughts and considerations were
lost and absorbed in the elastic cane, which seemed vibrating with
anxious eagerness for a close acquaintance with his shoulders.
Cowering and trembling, the guilty one, whose craftiness would no
longer avail him, dropped abjectly upon his knees and blubberingly
implored for mercy, on consideration of revealing the whole truth.
Darnley, who thought more of the happiness of renewing his acquaintance
with Penelope than of the pleasure of caning a graceless varlet,
readily promised mercy upon confession. And so great was Nick's
gratitude for the mercy promised, that he told the whole truth, and
gave up the character of Lord Spoonbill to contempt.