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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: St. Ronan's Well + +Author: Sir Walter Scott + +Release Date: March 6, 2007 [EBook #20749] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ST. RONAN'S WELL *** + + + + +Produced by Susan Skinner, Melissa Er-Raqabi, Ted Garvin +and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at +http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 401px;"><a name="vol_i_Frontispiece" id="vol_i_Frontispiece"></a> +<img src="images/illus-1.frontis.jpg" width="401" height="600" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p class='center u'><b><i>Standard Edition</i></b></p> + + +<h1>St. Ronan's Well</h1> + +<h3>By</h3> + +<h2>Sir Walter Scott, Bart.</h2> + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 214px;"> +<img src="images/illus-1.title.jpg" width="214" height="250" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + + +<p class='center'>With Introductory Essay and Notes<br /> +by Andrew Lang</p> + + +<p class='center'><i>Illustrated</i></p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p class='center'> +Dana Estes and Company<br /> +Publishers ... Boston<br /> +</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<p class='center'>The Standard Edition</p> + +<p class='center'>of the Novels and Poems of Sir Walter Scott. Limited to one thousand +numbered and registered sets, of which this is</p> + +<p class='center'>No. 835</p> +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p class='center'> +<i>Copyright, 1894.</i><br /> +<span class="smcap">By Estes and Lauriat</span><br /> +</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol_i_LIST_OF_ILLUSTRATIONS" id="vol_i_LIST_OF_ILLUSTRATIONS"></a>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> + +<h3>ST. RONAN'S WELL</h3> + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='center' colspan='2'><span class="smcap">Volume I.</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'></td><td align='right'><span style="font-size: 50%;">PAGE</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Meg Dods (<a href="#vol_i_Page_13">p. 13</a>)</span></td><td align='right'><i><a href="#vol_i_Frontispiece">Frontispiece</a></i></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Meeting in the Wood</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#vol_i_Page_137">137</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Preparing for the Duel</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#vol_i_Page_198">198</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='center' colspan='2'><span class="smcap">Volume II.</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Reappearance of Tyrrel</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#vol_ii_Page_127">127</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Clara entering Tyrrel's Room</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#vol_ii_Page_307">307</a></td></tr> +</table></div> + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_ix" id="vol_i_Page_ix">[Pg ix]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol_i_EDITORS_INTRODUCTION" id="vol_i_EDITORS_INTRODUCTION"></a>EDITOR'S INTRODUCTION<br /> +<br /> +TO<br /> +<br /> +ST. RONAN'S WELL.</h2> + + +<p>“‘<span class="smcap">St. Ronan's Well</span>’ is not so much my favourite as certain of its +predecessors,” Lady Louisa Stuart wrote to Scott on March 26, 1824. “Yet +still I see the author's hand in it, <i>et c'est tout dire</i>. Meg Dods, the +meeting” (vol. i. chap. ix.), “and the last scene between Clara and her +brother, are marked with the true stamp, not to be matched or mistaken. +Is the Siege of Ptolemais really on the anvil?” she goes on, speaking of +the projected Crusading Tales, and obviously anxious to part company +with “St. Ronan's Well.” All judgments have not agreed with Lady +Louisa's. There is a literary legend or fable according to which a +number of distinguished men, all admirers of Scott, wrote down +separately the name of their favourite Waverley novel, and all, when the +papers were compared, had written “St. Ronan's.” Sydney Smith, writing +to Constable on Dec. 28, 1823, described the new story as “far the best +that has appeared for some time. Every now and then there is some +mistaken or overcharged humour—but much excellent delineation of +character, the story very well told, and the whole very interesting. +Lady Binks, the old landlady, and Touchwood are all very good. Mrs. +Blower particularly so. So are MacTurk and Lady Penelope. I wish he +would give his people better names; Sir Bingo Binks is quite +ridiculous.... The curtain should have dropped on finding Clara's<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_x" id="vol_i_Page_x">[Pg x]</a></span> +glove. Some of the serious scenes with Clara and her brother are very +fine: the knife scene masterly. In her light and gay moments Clara is +very vulgar; but Sir Walter always fails in well-bred men and women, and +yet who has seen more of both? and who, in the ordinary intercourse of +society, is better bred? Upon the whole, I call this a very successful +exhibition.”</p> + +<p>We have seldom found Sydney Smith giving higher praise, and nobody can +deny the justice of the censure with which it is qualified. Scott +himself explains, in his Introduction, how, in his quest of novelty, he +invaded modern life, and the domain of Miss Austen. Unhappily he proved +by example the truth of his own opinion that he could do “the big +bow-wow strain” very well, but that it was not his <i>celebrare domestica +facta</i>. Unlike George Sand, Sir Walter had humour abundantly, but, as +the French writer said of herself, he was wholly destitute of <i>esprit</i>.</p> + +<p>We need not linger over definition of these qualities; but we must +recognise, in Scott, the absence of lightness of touch, of delicacy in +the small sword-play of conversation. In fencing, all should be done, +the masters tell us, with the fingers. Scott works not even with the +wrist, but with the whole arm. The two-handed sword, the old claymore, +are his weapons, not the rapier. This was plain enough in the +word-combats of Queen Mary and her lady gaoler in Loch Leven. Much more +conspicuous is the “swashing blow” in the repartee of “St. Ronan's.” The +insults lavished on Lady Binks are violent and cruel; even Clara Mowbray +taunts her. Now Lady Binks is in the same parlous case as the +postmistress who dreed penance “for ante-nup,” as Meg Dods says in an +interrupted harangue, and we know that, to the author's mind, Clara +Mowbray had no right to throw stones. All these jeers are offensive to +generous feeling, and in the mouth of Clara<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_xi" id="vol_i_Page_xi">[Pg xi]</a></span> are intolerable. Lockhart +remarked in Scott a singular bluntness of the sense of smell and of +taste. He could drink corked wine without a suspicion that there was +anything wrong with it. This curious obtuseness of a physical sense, in +one whose eyesight was so keen, who, “aye was the first to find the +hare” in coursing, seems to correspond with his want of lightness in the +invention of <i>badinage</i>. He tells us that, for a long while at least, he +had been unacquainted with the kind of society, the idle, useless +underbred society, of watering-places. Are we to believe that the +company at Gilsland, for instance, where he met and wooed Miss +Charpentier, was like the company at St. Ronan's? Lockhart vouches for +the snobbishness, “the mean admiration of mean things,” the devotion to +the slimmest appearances of rank. All this is credible enough, but, if +there existed a society as dull and base as that which we meet in the +pages of “Mr. Soapy Sponge,” and Surtees's other novels, assuredly it +was no theme for the great and generous spirit of Sir Walter. The worst +kind of manners always prevail among people whom moderns call “the +second-rate smart,” and these are drawn in “St. Ronan's Well.” But we +may believe that, even there, manners are no longer quite so hideous as +in the little Tweedside watering-place. The extinction of duelling has +destroyed, or nearly destroyed, the swaggering style of truculence; +people could not behave as Mowbray and Sir Bingo behave to Tyrrel, in +the after-dinner scene. The Man of Peace, the great MacTurk, with his +harangues translated from the language of Ossian, is no longer needed, +and no longer possible. Supposing manners to be correctly described in +“St. Ronan's,” the pessimist himself must admit that manners have +improved. But it is not without regret that we see a genius born for +chivalry labouring in this unworthy and alien matter.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_xii" id="vol_i_Page_xii">[Pg xii]</a></span></p> + +<p>The English critics delighted to accuse Scott of having committed +literary suicide. He had only stepped off the path to which he presently +returned. He was unfitted to write the domestic novel, and even in “St. +Ronan's” he introduces events of romantic improbability. These enable +him to depict scenes of the most passionate tragedy, as in the meeting +of Clara and Tyrrel. They who have loved so blindly and so kindly should +never have met, or never parted. It is like a tragic rendering of the +scene where Diana Vernon and Osbaldistone encounter each other on the +moonlit moor. The wild words of Clara, “Is it so, and was it even +yourself whom I saw even now?... And, all things considered, I do carry +on the farce of life wonderfully well,”—all this passage, with the +silence of the man, is on the highest level of poetic invention, and +Clara ranks with Ophelia. To her strain of madness we may ascribe, +perhaps, what Sydney Smith calls the vulgarity of her lighter moments. +But here the genius of Shakspeare is faultless, where Scott's is most +faulty and most mistaken.</p> + +<p>Much confusion is caused in “St. Ronan's Well” by Scott's concession to +the delicacy of James Ballantyne. What has shaken Clara's brain? Not her +sham marriage, for that was innocent, and might be legally annulled. +Lockhart writes (vii. 208): “Sir Walter had shown a remarkable degree of +good-nature in the composition of this novel. When the end came in view, +James Ballantyne suddenly took vast alarm about a particular feature in +the heroine's history. In the original conception, and in the book as +actually written and printed, Miss Mowbray's mock marriage had not +halted at the profane ceremony of the church; and the delicate printer +shrank from the idea of obtruding on the fastidious public the +possibility of any personal contamination having occurred to a high-born +damsel of<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_xiii" id="vol_i_Page_xiii">[Pg xiii]</a></span> the nineteenth century.” Scott answered: “You would never +have quarrelled with it had the thing happened to a girl in gingham—the +silk petticoat can make little difference.” “James reclaimed with double +energy, and called Constable to the rescue; and, after some pause, the +author very reluctantly consented to cancel and re-write about +twenty-four pages, which was enough to obliterate, to a certain extent, +the dreaded scandal—and, in a similar degree, as he always persisted, +to perplex and weaken the course of his narrative, and the dark effect +of its catastrophe.”</p> + +<p>From a communication printed in the “Athenæum” of Feb. 4, 1893, extracts +from the original proof-sheets, it seems that Lockhart forgot the +original plan of the novel. The mock marriage <i>did</i> halt at the church +door, but Clara's virtue had yielded to her real lover, Tyrrel, before +the ceremony. Hannah Irwin had deliberately made opportunities for the +lovers' meeting, and at last, as she says, in a cancelled passage, “the +devil and Hannah Irwin prevailed.” There followed remorse, and a +determination not to meet again before the Church made them one, and, on +the head of this, the mock marriage shook Clara's reason. This was the +original plan; it declares itself in the scene between Tyrrel and Clara +(vol. i. chap, ix.): “Wherefore should not sorrow be the end of sin and +folly?” The reviewer in the “Monthly Review” (1824) says “there is a +hint of some deeper cause of grief (see the confession to the brother), +but it is highly problematical.” For all this the delicacy of James +Ballantyne is to blame—his delicacy, and Scott's concessions to a +respectable man and a bad critic.</p> + +<p>The origin of “St. Ronan's Well” has been described by Lockhart in a +familiar passage. As Laidlaw, Scott, and Lockhart were riding along the +brow of the triple-peaked Eildon Hills, Scott mentioned “the row” that<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_xiv" id="vol_i_Page_xiv">[Pg xiv]</a></span> +was going on in Paris about “Quentin Durward.” “I can't but think I +could make better play still with something German,” he said. Laidlaw +grumbled at this: “You are always best, like Helen MacGregor, when your +foot is on your native heath; and I have often thought that if you were +to write a novel, and lay the scene <i>here</i> in the very year you were +writing it, you would exceed yourself.” “Hame's hame,” quoth Scott, +smiling, “be it ever sae hamely,” and Laidlaw bade him “stick to Melrose +in 1823.” It was now that Scott spoke of the village tragedy, the +romance of every house, of every cottage, and told a tale of some +horrors in the hamlet that lies beyond Melrose, on the north side of +Tweed. Laidlaw and Lockhart believed that this conversation suggested +“St. Ronan's Well,” the scene of which has been claimed as their own by +the people of Innerleithen. This little town is beautifully situated +where the hills of Tweed are steepest, and least resemble the <i>bosses +verdâtres</i> of Prosper Mérimée. It is now a manufacturing town, like its +neighbours, and contributes its quota to the pollution of “the +glittering and resolute streams of Tweed.” The pilgrim will scarce rival +Tyrrel's feat of catching a clean-run salmon in summer, but the scenes +are extremely pleasing, and indeed, from this point to Dryburgh, the +beautiful and fabled river is at its loveliest. It is possible that a +little inn farther up the water, “The Crook,” on the border of the +moorland, and near Tala Linn, where the Covenanters held a famous +assembly, may have suggested the name of the “Cleikum.” Lockhart +describes the prosperity which soon flowed into Innerleithen, and the +St. Ronan's Games, at which the Ettrick Shepherd presided gleefully. +They are still held, or were held very lately, but there will never come +again such another Shepherd, or such contests with the Flying Tailor of +Ettrick.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_xv" id="vol_i_Page_xv">[Pg xv]</a></span></p> + +<p>Apart from the tragedy of Clara, doubtless the better parts of “St. +Ronan's Well” are the Scotch characters. Even our generation remembers +many a Meg Dods, and he who writes has vividly in his recollection just +such tartness, such goodness of heart, such ungoverned eloquence and +vigour of rebuke as made Meg famous, successful on the stage, and +welcome to her countrymen. These people, Mrs. Blower and Meg, are +Shakspearean, they live with Dame Quickly and Shallow, in the hearts of +Scots, but to the English general they are possibly caviare. In the +gallant and irascible MacTurk we have the waning Highlander: he +resembles the Captain of Knockdunder in “The Heart of Mid Lothian,” or +an exaggerated and ill-educated Hector of “The Antiquary.” Concerning +the women of the tale, it may be said that Lady Binks has great +qualities, and appears to have been drawn “with an eye on the object,” +as Wordsworth says, and from the life. Lady Penelope seems more +exaggerated now than she probably did at the time, for the fashion of +affectation changes. The Winterblossoms and Quacklebens are accurate +enough in themselves, but are seen through a Blackwoodian atmosphere, as +it were, through a mist of the temporary and boisterous Scotch humour of +the day. The author occasionally stoops to a pun, and, like that which +Hood made in the hearing of Thackeray, the pun is not good. Indeed the +novel, in its view of the decay of the Border, the ruined Laird, the +frivolous foolish society of the Well, taking the place of sturdy +William of Deloraine, and farmers like Scott's grandfather, makes a +picture of decadence as melancholy as “Redgauntlet.” “Not here, O +Apollo, are haunts meet for thee!” Strangely enough, among the features +of the time, Scott mentions reckless borrowings, “accommodation,” “Banks +of Air.” His own business was based on a “Bank of Air,” “wind-capital,” +as Cadell, Constable's partner, calls it,<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_xvi" id="vol_i_Page_xvi">[Pg xvi]</a></span> and the bubble was just about +to burst, though Scott had no apprehension of financial ruin. A horrid +power is visible in Scott's second picture of <i>la mauvaise pauvre</i>, the +hag who despises and curses the givers of “handfuls of coals and of +rice;” his first he drew in the witches of “The Bride of Lammermoor.” He +has himself indicated his desire to press hard on the vice of gambling, +as in “The Fortunes of Nigel.” Ruinous at all times and in every shape, +gambling, in Scott's lifetime, during the Regency, had crippled or +destroyed many an historical Scottish family. With this in his mind he +drew the portrait of Mowbray of St. Ronan's. His picture of duelling is +not more seductive; he himself had lost his friend, Sir Alexander +Boswell, in a duel; on other occasions this institution had brought +discomfort into his life, and though he was ready to fight General +Gourgaud with Napoleon's pistols, he cannot have approved of the +practices of the MacTurks and Bingo Binkses. A maniac, as his +correspondence shows, challenged Sir Walter, insisting that he was +pointed at and ridiculed in the character of MacTurk. (Abbotsford MSS.) +It is interesting to have the picture of contemporary manners from +Scott's hand—Meg Dods remains among his immortal portraits; but a novel +in which the absurd will of fiction and the conventional Nabob are +necessary machinery can never be ranked so high as even “The Monastery” +and “Peveril.” In Scotland, however, it was infinitely more successful +than its admirable successor “Redgauntlet.”</p> + +<p style="text-align: right;"> +<span class="smcap">Andrew Lang</span>. +</p> +<p><i>December 1893.</i> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_xvii" id="vol_i_Page_xvii">[Pg xvii]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol_i_INTRODUCTION" id="vol_i_INTRODUCTION"></a>INTRODUCTION<br /> +<br /> +TO<br /> +<br /> +ST. RONAN'S WELL.</h2> + + +<p>The novel which follows is upon a plan different from any other that the +author has ever written, although it is perhaps the most legitimate +which relates to this kind of light literature.</p> + +<p>It is intended, in a word—<i>celebrare domestica facta</i>—to give an +imitation of the shifting manners of our own time, and paint scenes, the +originals of which are daily passing round us, so that a minute's +observation may compare the copies with the originals. It must be +confessed that this style of composition was adopted by the author +rather from the tempting circumstance of its offering some novelty in +his compositions, and avoiding worn-out characters and positions, than +from the hope of rivalling the many formidable competitors who have +already won deserved honours in this department. The ladies, in +particular, gifted by nature with keen powers of observation and light +satire, have been so distinguished by these works of talent, that, +reckoning from the authoress of Evelina to her of Marriage, a catalogue +might be made, including the brilliant and talented names of Edgeworth, +Austin, Charlotte Smith, and others, whose success seems to have +appropriated this province of the novel as exclusively their own. It was +therefore with a sense of temerity that the author intruded upon a +species of composition which had been of late practised with such +distinguished success. This consciousness was lost, however, under the +necessity of<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_xviii" id="vol_i_Page_xviii">[Pg xviii]</a></span> seeking for novelty, without which, it was much to be +apprehended, such repeated incursions on his part would nauseate the +long indulgent public at the last.</p> + +<p>The scene chosen for the author's little drama of modern life was a +mineral spring, such as are to be found in both divisions of Britain, +and which are supplied with the usual materials for redeeming health, or +driving away care. The invalid often finds relief from his complaints, +less from the healing virtues of the Spa itself, than because his system +of ordinary life undergoes an entire change, in his being removed from +his ledger and account-books—from his legal folios and progresses of +title-deeds—from his counters and shelves,—from whatever else forms +the main source of his constant anxiety at home, destroys his appetite, +mars the custom of his exercise, deranges the digestive powers, and +clogs up the springs of life. Thither, too, comes the saunterer, anxious +to get rid of that wearisome attendant <i>himself</i>, and thither come both +males and females, who, upon a different principle, desire to make +themselves double.</p> + +<p>The society of such places is regulated, by their very nature, upon a +scheme much more indulgent than that which rules the world of fashion, +and the narrow circles of rank in the metropolis. The titles of rank, +birth, and fortune, are received at a watering-place without any very +strict investigation, as adequate to the purpose for which they are +preferred; and as the situation infers a certain degree of intimacy and +sociability for the time, so to whatever heights it may have been +carried, it is not understood to imply any duration beyond the length of +the season. No intimacy can be supposed more close for the time, and +more transitory in its endurance, than that which is attached to a +watering-place acquaintance. The novelist, therefore, who fixes upon +such a scene for his tale, endeavours to display a<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_xix" id="vol_i_Page_xix">[Pg xix]</a></span> species of society, +where the strongest contrast of humorous characters and manners may be +brought to bear on and illustrate each other with less violation of +probability, than could be supposed to attend the same miscellaneous +assemblage in any other situation.</p> + +<p>In such scenes, too, are frequently mingled characters, not merely +ridiculous, but dangerous and hateful. The unprincipled gamester, the +heartless fortune-hunter, all those who eke out their means of +subsistence by pandering to the vices and follies of the rich and gay, +who drive, by their various arts, foibles into crimes, and imprudence +into acts of ruinous madness, are to be found where their victims +naturally resort, with the same certainty that eagles are gathered +together at the place of slaughter. By this the author takes a great +advantage for the management of his story, particularly in its darker +and more melancholy passages. The impostor, the gambler, all who live +loose upon the skirts of society, or, like vermin, thrive by its +corruptions, are to be found at such retreats, when they easily, and as +a matter of course, mingle with those dupes, who might otherwise have +escaped their snares. But besides those characters who are actually +dangerous to society, a well-frequented watering-place generally +exhibits for the amusement of the company, and the perplexity and +amazement of the more inexperienced, a sprinkling of persons called by +the newspapers eccentric characters—individuals, namely, who, either +from some real derangement of their understanding, or, much more +frequently, from an excess of vanity, are ambitious of distinguishing +themselves by some striking peculiarity in dress or address, +conversation or manners, and perhaps in all. These affectations are +usually adopted, like Drawcansir's extravagances, to show <i>they dare</i>; +and I must needs say, those who profess them are more frequently to be +found among the<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_xx" id="vol_i_Page_xx">[Pg xx]</a></span> English, than among the natives of either of the other +two divisions of the united kingdoms. The reason probably is, that the +consciousness of wealth, and a sturdy feeling of independence, which +generally pervade the English nation, are, in a few individuals, +perverted into absurdity, or at least peculiarity. The witty Irishman, +on the contrary, adapts his general behaviour to that of the best +society, or that which he thinks such; nor is it any part of the shrewd +Scot's national character unnecessarily to draw upon himself public +attention. These rules, however, are not without their exceptions; for +we find men of every country playing the eccentric at these independent +resorts of the gay and the wealthy, where every one enjoys the license +of doing what is good in his own eyes.</p> + +<p>It scarce needed these obvious remarks to justify a novelist's choice of +a watering-place as the scene of a fictitious narrative. Unquestionably, +it affords every variety of character, mixed together in a manner which +cannot, without a breach of probability, be supposed to exist elsewhere; +neither can it be denied that in the concourse which such miscellaneous +collections of persons afford, events extremely different from those of +the quiet routine of ordinary life may, and often do, take place.</p> + +<p>It is not, however, sufficient that a mine be in itself rich and easily +accessible; it is necessary that the engineer who explores it should +himself, in mining phrase, have an accurate knowledge of the <i>country</i>, +and possess the skill necessary to work it to advantage. In this +respect, the author of Saint Ronan's Well could not be termed fortunate. +His habits of life had not led him much, of late years at least, into +its general or bustling scenes, nor had he mingled often in the society +which enables the observer to “shoot folly as it flies.” The consequence +perhaps was, that the<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_xxi" id="vol_i_Page_xxi">[Pg xxi]</a></span> characters wanted that force and precision which +can only be given by a writer who is familiarly acquainted with his +subject. The author, however, had the satisfaction to chronicle his +testimony against the practice of gambling, a vice which the devil has +contrived to render all his own, since it is deprived of whatever pleads +an apology for other vices, and is founded entirely on the cold-blooded +calculation of the most exclusive selfishness. The character of the +traveller, meddling, self-important, and what the ladies call fussing, +but yet generous and benevolent in his purposes, was partly taken from +nature. The story, being entirely modern, cannot require much +explanation, after what has been here given, either in the shape of +notes, or a more prolix introduction.</p> + +<p>It may be remarked, that the English critics, in many instances, though +none of great influence, pursued Saint Ronan's Well with hue and cry, +many of the fraternity giving it as their opinion that the author had +exhausted himself, or, as the technical phrase expresses it, written +himself out; and as an unusual tract of success too often provokes many +persons to mark and exaggerate a slip when it does occur, the author was +publicly accused, in prose and verse, of having committed a literary +suicide in this unhappy attempt. The voices, therefore, were, for a +time, against Saint Ronan's on the southern side of the Tweed.</p> + +<p>In the author's own country, it was otherwise. Many of the characters +were recognised as genuine Scottish portraits, and the good fortune +which had hitherto attended the productions of the Author of Waverley, +did not desert, notwithstanding the ominous vaticinations of its +censurers, this new attempt, although out of his ordinary style.</p> + +<p><i>1st February, 1832.</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_1" id="vol_i_Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>ST. RONAN'S WELL.</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol_i_CHAPTER_I" id="vol_i_CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I.</h2> + +<h3>AN OLD-WORLD LANDLADY.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But to make up my tale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She breweth good ale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And thereof maketh sale.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="citation"> +<span class="smcap">Skelton.</span><br /> +</p> + + +<p>Although few, if any, of the countries of Europe, have increased so +rapidly in wealth and cultivation as Scotland during the last half +century, Sultan Mahmoud's owls might nevertheless have found in +Caledonia, at any term within that flourishing period, their dowery of +ruined villages. Accident or local advantages have, in many instances, +transferred the inhabitants of ancient hamlets, from the situations +which their predecessors chose with more respect to security than +convenience, to those in which their increasing industry and commerce +could more easily expand itself; and hence places which stand +distinguished in Scottish history, and which figure in David M'Pherson's +excellent historical map,<a name="vol_i_FNanchor_A_24" id="vol_i_FNanchor_A_24"></a><a href="#vol_i_Footnote_A_24" class="fnanchor">[A]</a><a name="vol_i_FNanchor_1_1" id="vol_i_FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#vol_i_Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> can now only be discerned from the wild<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_2" id="vol_i_Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span> +moor by the verdure which clothes their site, or, at best, by a few +scattered ruins, resembling pinfolds, which mark the spot of their +former existence.</p> + +<p>The little village of St. Ronan's, though it had not yet fallen into the +state of entire oblivion we have described, was, about twenty years +since, fast verging towards it. The situation had something in it so +romantic, that it provoked the pencil of every passing tourist; and we +will endeavour, therefore, to describe it in language which can scarcely +be less intelligible than some of their sketches, avoiding, however, for +reasons which seem to us of weight, to give any more exact indication of +the site, than that it is on the southern side of the Forth, and not +above thirty miles distant from the English frontier.</p> + +<p>A river of considerable magnitude pours its streams through a narrow +vale, varying in breadth from two miles to a fourth of that distance, +and which, being composed of rich alluvial soil, is, and has long been, +enclosed, tolerably well inhabited, and cultivated with all the skill of +Scottish agriculture. Either side of this valley is bounded by a chain +of hills, which, on the right in particular, may be almost termed +mountains. Little brooks arising in these ridges, and finding their way +to the river, offer each its own little vale to the industry of the +cultivator. Some of them bear fine large trees, which have as yet +escaped the axe, and upon the sides of most there are scattered patches +and fringes of natural copsewood, above and around which the banks of +the stream arise, somewhat desolate in the colder months, but in summer +glowing with dark purple heath, or with the golden lustre of the broom +and gorse. This is a sort of scenery<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_3" id="vol_i_Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span> peculiar to those countries, which +abound, like Scotland, in hills and in streams, and where the traveller +is ever and anon discovering in some intricate and unexpected recess, a +simple and silvan beauty, which pleases him the more, that it seems to +be peculiarly his own property as the first discoverer.</p> + +<p>In one of these recesses, and so near its opening as to command the +prospect of the river, the broader valley, and the opposite chain of +hills, stood, and, unless neglect and desertion have completed their +work, still stands, the ancient and decayed village of St. Ronan's. The +site was singularly picturesque, as the straggling street of the village +ran up a very steep hill, on the side of which were clustered, as it +were, upon little terraces, the cottages which composed the place, +seeming, as in the Swiss towns on the Alps, to rise above each other +towards the ruins of an old castle, which continued to occupy the crest +of the eminence, and the strength of which had doubtless led the +neighbourhood to assemble under its walls for protection. It must, +indeed, have been a place of formidable defence, for, on the side +opposite to the town, its walls rose straight up from the verge of a +tremendous and rocky precipice, whose base was washed by Saint Ronan's +burn, as the brook was entitled. On the southern side, where the +declivity was less precipitous, the ground had been carefully levelled +into successive terraces, which ascended to the summit of the hill, and +were, or rather had been, connected by staircases of stone, rudely +ornamented. In peaceful periods these terraces had been occupied by the +gardens of the Castle, and in times of siege they added to its security, +for each commanded the one immediately below it, so that they could be +separately and successively<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_4" id="vol_i_Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> defended, and all were exposed to the fire +from the place itself—a massive square tower of the largest size, +surrounded, as usual, by lower buildings, and a high embattled wall. On +the northern side arose a considerable mountain, of which the descent +that lay between the eminence on which the Castle was situated seemed a +detached portion, and which had been improved and deepened by three +successive huge trenches. Another very deep trench was drawn in front of +the main entrance from the east, where the principal gateway formed the +termination of the street, which, as we have noticed, ascended from the +village, and this last defence completed the fortifications of the +tower.</p> + +<p>In the ancient gardens of the Castle, and upon all sides of it excepting +the western, which was precipitous, large old trees had found root, +mantling the rock and the ancient and ruinous walls with their dusky +verdure, and increasing the effect of the shattered pile which towered +up from the centre.</p> + +<p>Seated on the threshold of this ancient pile, where the “proud porter” +had in former days “rear'd himself,”<a name="vol_i_FNanchor_2_2" id="vol_i_FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#vol_i_Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> a stranger had a complete and +commanding view of the decayed village, the houses of which, to a +fanciful imagination, might seem as if they had been suddenly arrested +in hurrying down the precipitous hill, and fixed as if by magic in the +whimsical arrangement which they now presented. It was like a sudden +pause in one of Amphion's country-dances, when the huts which were to +form the future Thebes were jigging it to his lute. But, with such an +observer, the melancholy excited by the desolate appearance of the +village soon overcame all the lighter frolics of the imagination.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_5" id="vol_i_Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> +Originally constructed on the humble plan used in the building of Scotch +cottages about a century ago, the greater part of them had been long +deserted; and their fallen roofs, blackened gables, and ruinous walls, +showed Desolation's triumph over Poverty. On some huts the rafters, +varnished with soot, were still standing, in whole or in part, like +skeletons, and a few, wholly or partially covered with thatch, seemed +still inhabited, though scarce habitable; for the smoke of the +peat-fires, which prepared the humble meal of the indwellers, stole +upwards, not only from the chimneys, its regular vent, but from various +other crevices in the roofs. Nature, in the meanwhile, always changing, +but renewing as she changes, was supplying, by the power of vegetation, +the fallen and decaying marks of human labour. Small pollards, which had +been formerly planted around the little gardens, had now waxed into huge +and high forest trees; the fruit-trees had extended their branches over +the verges of the little yards, and the hedges had shot up into huge and +irregular bushes; while quantities of dock, and nettles, and hemlock, +hiding the ruined walls, were busily converting the whole scene of +desolation into a picturesque forest-bank.</p> + +<p>Two houses in St. Ronan's were still in something like decent repair; +places essential—the one to the spiritual weal of the inhabitants, the +other to the accommodation of travellers. These were the clergyman's +manse, and the village inn. Of the former we need only say, that it +formed no exception to the general rule by which the landed proprietors +of Scotland seem to proceed in lodging their clergy, not only in the +cheapest, but in the ugliest and most inconvenient house which the +genius of<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_6" id="vol_i_Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> masonry can contrive. It had the usual number of +chimneys—two, namely—rising like asses' ears at either end, which +answered the purpose for which they were designed as ill as usual. It +had all the ordinary leaks and inlets to the fury of the elements, which +usually form the subject of the complaints of a Scottish incumbent to +his brethren of the presbytery; and, to complete the picture, the +clergyman being a bachelor, the pigs had unmolested admission to the +garden and court-yard, broken windows were repaired with brown paper, +and the disordered and squalid appearance of a low farm-house, occupied +by a bankrupt tenant, dishonoured the dwelling of one, who, besides his +clerical character, was a scholar and a gentleman, though a little of a +humourist.</p> + +<p>Beside the manse stood the kirk of St. Ronan's, a little old mansion +with a clay floor, and an assemblage of wretched pews, originally of +carved oak, but heedfully clouted with white fir-deal. But the external +form of the church was elegant in the outline, having been built in +Catholic times, when we cannot deny to the forms of ecclesiastical +architecture that grace, which, as good Protestants, we refuse to their +doctrine. The fabric hardly raised its grey and vaulted roof among the +crumbling hills of mortality by which it was surrounded, and was indeed +so small in size, and so much lowered in height by the graves on the +outside, which ascended half way up the low Saxon windows, that it might +itself have appeared only a funeral vault, or mausoleum of larger size. +Its little square tower, with the ancient belfry, alone distinguished it +from such a monument. But when the grey-headed beadle turned the keys +with his shaking hand, the antiquary<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_7" id="vol_i_Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> was admitted into an ancient +building, which, from the style of its architecture, and some monuments +of the Mowbrays of St. Ronan's, which the old man was accustomed to +point out, was generally conjectured to be as early as the thirteenth +century.</p> + +<p>These Mowbrays of St. Ronan's seem to have been at one time a very +powerful family. They were allied to, and friends of the house of +Douglas, at the time when the overgrown power of that heroic race made +the Stewarts tremble on the Scottish throne. It followed that, when, as +our old <i>naïf</i> historian expresses it, “no one dared to strive with a +Douglas, nor yet with a Douglas's man, for if he did, he was sure to +come by the waur,” the family of St. Ronan's shared their prosperity, +and became lords of almost the whole of the rich valley of which their +mansion commanded the prospect. But upon the turning of the tide, in the +reign of James II., they became despoiled of the greater part of those +fair acquisitions, and succeeding events reduced their importance still +farther. Nevertheless, they were, in the middle of the seventeenth +century, still a family of considerable note; and Sir Reginald Mowbray, +after the unhappy battle of Dunbar, distinguished himself by the +obstinate defence of the Castle against the arms of Cromwell, who, +incensed at the opposition which he had unexpectedly encountered in an +obscure corner, caused the fortress to be dismantled and blown up with +gunpowder.</p> + +<p>After this catastrophe the old Castle was abandoned to ruin; but Sir +Reginald, when, like Allan Ramsay's Sir William Worthy, he returned +after the Revolution, built himself a house in the fashion of that later +age, which he prudently suited in size to the diminished fortunes of his +family. It was<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_8" id="vol_i_Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> situated about the middle of the village, whose vicinity +was not in those days judged any inconvenience, upon a spot of ground +more level than was presented by the rest of the acclivity, where, as we +said before, the houses were notched as it were into the side of the +steep bank, with little more level ground about them than the spot +occupied by their site. But the Laird's house had a court in front and a +small garden behind, connected with another garden, which, occupying +three terraces, descended, in emulation of the orchards of the old +Castle, almost to the banks of the stream.</p> + +<p>The family continued to inhabit this new messuage until about fifty +years before the commencement of our history, when it was much damaged +by a casual fire; and the Laird of the day, having just succeeded to a +more pleasant and commodious dwelling at the distance of about three +miles from the village, determined to abandon the habitation of his +ancestors. As he cut down at the same time an ancient rookery, (perhaps +to defray the expenses of the migration,) it became a common remark +among the country folk, that the decay of St. Ronan's began when Laird +Lawrence and the crows flew off.</p> + +<p>The deserted mansion, however, was not consigned to owls and birds of +the desert; on the contrary, for many years it witnessed more fun and +festivity than when it had been the sombre abode of a grave Scottish +Baron of “auld lang syne.” In short, it was converted into an inn, and +marked by a huge sign, representing on the one side St. Ronan catching +hold of the devil's game leg with his Episcopal crook, as the story may +be read in his veracious legend, and on the other the Mow<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_9" id="vol_i_Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span>bray arms. It +was by far the best frequented public-house in that vicinity; and a +thousand stories were told of the revels which had been held within its +walls, and the gambols achieved under the influence of its liquors. All +this, however, had long since passed away, according to the lines in my +frontispiece,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“A merry place, 'twas said, in days of yore;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But something ail'd it now,—the place was cursed.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The worthy couple (servants and favourites of the Mowbray family) who +first kept the inn, had died reasonably wealthy, after long carrying on +a flourishing trade, leaving behind them an only daughter. They had +acquired by degrees not only the property of the inn itself, of which +they were originally tenants, but of some remarkably good meadow-land by +the side of the brook, which, when touched by a little pecuniary +necessity, the Lairds of St. Ronan's had disposed of piecemeal, as the +readiest way to portion off a daughter, procure a commission for the +younger son, and the like emergencies. So that Meg Dods, when she +succeeded to her parents, was a considerable heiress, and, as such, had +the honour of refusing three topping-farmers, two bonnet-lairds, and a +horse-couper, who successively made proposals to her.</p> + +<p>Many bets were laid on the horse-couper's success, but the knowing ones +were taken in. Determined to ride the fore-horse herself, Meg would +admit no helpmate who might soon assert the rights of a master; and so, +in single blessedness, and with the despotism of Queen Bess herself, she +ruled all matters with a high hand, not only over her men-servants and +maid-servants, but over the stranger<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_10" id="vol_i_Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> within her gates, who, if he +ventured to oppose Meg's sovereign will and pleasure, or desire to have +either fare or accommodation different from that which she chose to +provide for him, was instantly ejected with that answer which Erasmus +tells us silenced all complaints in the German inns of his time, <i>Quære +aliud hospitium</i>;<a name="vol_i_FNanchor_3_3" id="vol_i_FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#vol_i_Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> or, as Meg expressed it, “Troop aff wi' ye to +another public.” As this amounted to a banishment in extent equal to +sixteen miles from Meg's residence, the unhappy party on whom it was +passed, had no other refuge save by deprecating the wrath of his +landlady, and resigning himself to her will. It is but justice to Meg +Dods to state, that though hers was a severe and almost despotic +government, it could not be termed a tyranny, since it was exercised, +upon the whole, for the good of the subject.</p> + +<p>The vaults of the old Laird's cellar had not, even in his own day, been +replenished with more excellent wines; the only difficulty was to +prevail on Meg to look for the precise liquor you chose;—to which it +may be added, that she often became restiff when she thought a company +had had “as much as did them good,” and refused to furnish any more +supplies. Then her kitchen was her pride and glory; she looked to the +dressing of every dish herself, and there were some with which she +suffered no one to interfere. Such were the cock-a-leeky, and the +savoury minced collops, which rivalled in their way even the veal +cutlets of our old friend Mrs. Hall, at Ferrybridge. Meg's table-linen, +bed-linen,<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_11" id="vol_i_Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> and so forth, were always home-made, of the best quality, +and in the best order; and a weary day was that to the chambermaid in +which her lynx eye discovered any neglect of the strict cleanliness +which she constantly enforced. Indeed, considering Meg's country and +calling, we were never able to account for her extreme and scrupulous +nicety, unless by supposing that it afforded her the most apt and +frequent pretext for scolding her maids; an exercise in which she +displayed so much eloquence and energy, that we must needs believe it to +have been a favourite one.<a name="vol_i_FNanchor_4_4" id="vol_i_FNanchor_4_4"></a><a href="#vol_i_Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a></p> + +<p>We have only further to commemorate, the moderation of Meg's reckonings, +which, when they closed the banquet, often relieved the apprehensions, +instead of saddening the heart, of the rising guest. A shilling for +breakfast, three shillings for dinner, including a pint of old port, +eighteenpence for a snug supper—such were the charges of the inn of St. +Ronan's, under this landlady of the olden world, even after the +nineteenth century had commenced; and they were ever tendered with the +pious recollection, that her good father never charged half so much, but +these weary times rendered it impossible for her to make the lawing +less.<a name="vol_i_FNanchor_5_5" id="vol_i_FNanchor_5_5"></a><a href="#vol_i_Footnote_5_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a></p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_12" id="vol_i_Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span></p><p>Notwithstanding all these excellent and rare properties, the inn at +Saint Ronan's shared the decay of the village to which it belonged. This +was owing to various circumstances. The high-road had been turned aside +from the place, the steepness of the street being murder (so the +postilions declared) to their post-horses. It was thought that Meg's +stern refusal to treat them with liquor, or to connive at their +exchanging for porter and whisky the corn which should feed their +cattle, had no small influence on the opinion of those respectable +gentlemen, and that a little cutting and levelling would have made the +ascent easy enough; but let that pass. This alteration of the highway +was an injury which Meg did not easily forgive to the country gentlemen, +most of whom she had recollected when children. “Their fathers,” she +said, “wad not have done the like of it to a lone woman.” Then the decay +of the village itself, which had formerly contained a set of feuars and +bonnet-lairds, who, under the name of the Chirupping Club, contrived to +drink twopenny, qualified with brandy or whisky, at least twice or +thrice a-week, was some small loss.</p> + +<p>The temper and manners of the landlady scared away all customers of that +numerous class, who will<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_13" id="vol_i_Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> not allow originality to be an excuse for the +breach of decorum, and who, little accustomed perhaps to attendance at +home, loved to play the great man at an inn, and to have a certain +number of bows, deferential speeches, and apologies, in answer to the +G—d d—n ye's which they bestow on the house, attendance, and +entertainment. Unto those who commenced this sort of barter in the +Clachan of Saint Ronan's, well could Meg Dods pay it back, in their own +coin; and glad they were to escape from the house with eyes not quite +scratched out, and ears not more deafened than if they had been within +hearing of a pitched battle.</p> + +<p>Nature had formed honest Meg for such encounters; and as her noble soul +delighted in them, so her outward properties were in what Tony Lumpkin +calls a concatenation accordingly. She had hair of a brindled colour, +betwixt black and grey, which was apt to escape in elf-locks from under +her mutch when she was thrown into violent agitation—long skinny hands, +terminated by stout talons—grey eyes, thin lips, a robust person, a +broad, though flat chest, capital wind, and a voice that could match a +choir of fishwomen. She was accustomed to say of herself in her more +gentle moods, that her bark was worse than her bite; but what teeth +could have matched a tongue, which, when in full career, is vouched to +have been heard from the Kirk to the Castle of Saint Ronan's?</p> + +<p>These notable gifts, however, had no charms for the travellers of these +light and giddy-paced times, and Meg's inn became less and less +frequented. What carried the evil to the uttermost was, that a fanciful +lady of rank in the neighbourhood chanced to recover of some imaginary +complaint by the use<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_14" id="vol_i_Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> of a mineral well about a mile and a half from the +village; a fashionable doctor was found to write an analysis of the +healing waters, with a list of sundry cures; a speculative builder took +land in feu, and erected lodging-houses, shops, and even streets. At +length a tontine subscription was obtained to erect an inn, which, for +the more grace, was called a hotel; and so the desertion of Meg Dods +became general.<a name="vol_i_FNanchor_6_6" id="vol_i_FNanchor_6_6"></a><a href="#vol_i_Footnote_6_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a></p> + +<p>She had still, however, her friends and well-wishers, many of whom +thought, that as she was a lone woman, and known to be well to pass in +the world, she would act wisely to retire from public life, and take +down a sign which had no longer fascination for guests. But Meg's spirit +scorned submission, direct or implied. “Her father's door,” she said, +“should be open to the road, till her father's bairn should be streekit +and carried out at it with her feet foremost. It was not for the +profit—there was little profit at it;—profit?—there was a dead loss; +but she wad not be dung by any of them. They maun hae a hottle,<a name="vol_i_FNanchor_7_7" id="vol_i_FNanchor_7_7"></a><a href="#vol_i_Footnote_7_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a> maun +they?—and an honest public canna serve them! They may hottle that +likes; but they shall see that Lucky Dods can hottle on as lang as the +best of them—ay, though they had made a Tamteen of it, and linkit aw +their breaths of lives, whilk are in their nostrils, on end of ilk other +like a string of wild-geese, and the langest liver bruick a', (whilk was +sinful presumption,) she would match ilk ane of them as lang as her ain +wind held out.” Fortunate it was for Meg,<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_15" id="vol_i_Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> since she had formed this +doughty resolution, that although her inn had decayed in custom, her +land had risen in value in a degree which more than compensated the +balance on the wrong side of her books, and, joined to her usual +providence and economy, enabled her to act up to her lofty purpose.</p> + +<p>She prosecuted her trade too with every attention to its diminished +income; shut up the windows of one half of her house, to baffle the +tax-gatherer; retrenched her furniture; discharged her pair of +post-horses, and pensioned off the old humpbacked postilion who drove +them, retaining his services, however, as an assistant to a still more +aged hostler. To console herself for restrictions by which her pride was +secretly wounded, she agreed with the celebrated Dick Tinto to re-paint +her father's sign, which had become rather undecipherable; and Dick +accordingly gilded the Bishop's crook, and augmented the horrors of the +Devil's aspect, until it became a terror to all the younger fry of the +school-house, and a sort of visible illustration of the terrors of the +arch-enemy, with which the minister endeavoured to impress their infant +minds.</p> + +<p>Under this renewed symbol of her profession, Meg Dods, or Meg Dorts, as +she was popularly termed, on account of her refractory humours, was +still patronised by some steady customers. Such were the members of the +Killnakelty Hunt, once famous on the turf and in the field, but now a +set of venerable grey-headed sportsmen, who had sunk from fox-hounds to +basket-beagles and coursing, and who made an easy canter on their quiet +nags a gentle induction to a dinner at Meg's. “A set of honest decent +men they were,” Meg said; “had their sang and their joke—and what for +no? Their<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_16" id="vol_i_Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> bind was just a Scots pint over-head, and a tappit-hen to the +bill, and no man ever saw them the waur o't. It was thae cockle-brained +callants of the present day that would be mair owerta'en with a puir +quart than douce folk were with a magnum.”</p> + +<p>Then there was a set of ancient brethren of the angle from Edinburgh, +who visited Saint Ronan's frequently in the spring and summer, a class +of guests peculiarly acceptable to Meg, who permitted them more latitude +in her premises than she was known to allow to any other body. “They +were,” she said, “pawky auld carles, that kend whilk side their bread +was buttered upon. Ye never kend of ony o' them ganging to the spring, +as they behoved to ca' the stinking well yonder.—Na, na—they were up +in the morning—had their parritch, wi' maybe a thimblefull of brandy, +and then awa up into the hills, eat their bit cauld meat on the heather, +and came hame at e'en with the creel full of caller trouts, and had them +to their dinner, and their quiet cogue of ale, and their drap punch, and +were set singing their catches and glees, as they ca'd them, till ten +o'clock, and then to bed, wi' God bless ye—and what for no?”</p> + +<p>Thirdly, we may commemorate some ranting blades, who also came from the +metropolis to visit Saint Ronan's, attracted by the humours of Meg, and +still more by the excellence of her liquor, and the cheapness of her +reckonings. These were members of the Helter Skelter Club, of the +Wildfire Club, and other associations formed for the express purpose of +getting rid of care and sobriety. Such dashers occasioned many a racket +in Meg's house, and many a <i>bourasque</i> in Meg's temper. Various were the +arts of flattery and violence by which they<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_17" id="vol_i_Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> endeavoured to get supplies +of liquor, when Meg's conscience told her they had had too much already. +Sometimes they failed, as when the croupier of the Helter Skelter got +himself scalded with the mulled wine, in an unsuccessful attempt to coax +this formidable virago by a salute; and the excellent president of the +Wildfire received a broken head from the keys of the cellar, as he +endeavoured to possess himself of these emblems of authority. But little +did these dauntless officials care for the exuberant frolics of Meg's +temper, which were to them only “pretty Fanny's way”—the <i>dulces +Amaryllidis iræ</i>. And Meg, on her part, though she often called them +“drunken ne'er-do-weels, and thoroughbred High-street blackguards,” +allowed no other person to speak ill of them in her hearing. “They were +daft callants,” she said, “and that was all—when the drink was in, the +wit was out—ye could not put an auld head upon young shouthers—a young +cowt will canter, be it up-hill or down—and what for no?” was her +uniform conclusion.</p> + +<p>Nor must we omit, among Meg's steady customers, “faithful amongst the +unfaithful found,” the copper-nosed sheriff-clerk of the county, who, +when summoned by official duty to that district of the shire, warmed by +recollections of her double-brewed ale, and her generous Antigua, always +advertised that his “Prieves,” or “Comptis,” or whatever other business +was in hand, were to proceed on such a day and hour, “within the house +of Margaret Dods, vintner in Saint Ronan's.”</p> + +<p>We have only farther to notice Meg's mode of conducting herself towards +chance travellers, who, knowing nothing of nearer or more fashionable +accommodations, or perhaps consulting rather the<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_18" id="vol_i_Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> state of their purse +than of their taste, stumbled upon her house of entertainment. Her +reception of these was as precarious as the hospitality of a savage +nation to sailors shipwrecked on their coast. If the guests seemed to +have made her mansion their free choice—or if she liked their +appearance (and her taste was very capricious)—above all, if they +seemed pleased with what they got, and little disposed to criticise or +give trouble, it was all very well. But if they had come to Saint +Ronan's because the house at the Well was full—or if she disliked what +the sailor calls the cut of their jib—or if, above all, they were +critical about their accommodations, none so likely as Meg to give them +what in her country is called a <i>sloan</i>. In fact, she reckoned such +persons a part of that ungenerous and ungrateful public, for whose sake +she was keeping her house open at a dead loss, and who had left her, as +it were, a victim to her patriotic zeal.</p> + +<p>Hence arose the different reports concerning the little inn of Saint +Ronan's, which some favoured travellers praised as the neatest and most +comfortable old-fashioned house in Scotland, where you had good +attendance, and good cheer, at moderate rates; while others, less +fortunate, could only talk of the darkness of the rooms, the homeliness +of the old furniture, and the detestable bad humour of Meg Dods, the +landlady.</p> + +<p>Reader, if you come from the more sunny side of the Tweed—or even if, +being a Scot, you have had the advantage to be born within the last +twenty-five years, you may be induced to think this portrait of Queen +Elizabeth, in Dame Quickly's piqued hat and green apron, somewhat +overcharged in the features. But I appeal to my own contem<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_19" id="vol_i_Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span>poraries, who +have known wheel-road, bridle-way, and footpath, for thirty years, +whether they do not, every one of them, remember Meg Dods—or somebody +very like her. Indeed, so much is this the case, that, about the period +I mention, I should have been afraid to have rambled from the Scottish +metropolis, in almost any direction, lest I had lighted upon some one of +the sisterhood of Dame Quickly, who might suspect me of having showed +her up to the public in the character of Meg Dods. At present, though it +is possible that some one or two of this peculiar class of wild-cats may +still exist, their talons must be much impaired by age; and I think they +can do little more than sit, like the Giant Pope, in the Pilgrim's +Progress, at the door of their unfrequented caverns, and grin at the +pilgrims over whom they used formerly to execute their despotism.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_20" id="vol_i_Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span></p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol_i_CHAPTER_II" id="vol_i_CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II.</h2> + +<h3>THE GUEST.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Quis novus hic hospes?<br /></span> +<span class="i10"><i>Dido apud Virgilium.</i><br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ch'am-maid! The Gemman in the front parlour!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p style="text-align:right; margin-right: 20%"> +<span class="smcap">Boots's</span> <i>free Translation of the Æneid</i>.<br /> +</p> + + +<p>It was on a fine summer's day that a solitary traveller rode under the +old-fashioned archway, and alighted in the court-yard of Meg Dods's inn, +and delivered the bridle of his horse to the humpbacked postilion. +“Bring my saddle-bags,” he said, “into the house—or stay—I am abler, I +think, to carry them than you.” He then assisted the poor meagre groom +to unbuckle the straps which secured the humble and now despised +convenience, and meantime gave strict charges that his horse should be +unbridled, and put into a clean and comfortable stall, the girths +slacked, and a cloth cast over his loins; but that the saddle should not +be removed until he himself came to see him dressed.</p> + +<p>The companion of his travels seemed in the hostler's eye deserving of +his care, being a strong active horse, fit either for the road or field, +but rather high in bone from a long journey, though from the state of +his skin it appeared the utmost care had been bestowed to keep him in +condition. While the groom obeyed the stranger's directions, the latter, +with the saddle-bags laid over his arm, entered the kitchen of the inn.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_21" id="vol_i_Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span></p> + +<p>Here he found the landlady herself in none of her most blessed humours. +The cook-maid was abroad on some errand, and Meg, in a close review of +the kitchen apparatus, was making the unpleasant discovery, that +trenchers had been broken or cracked, pots and saucepans not so +accurately scoured as her precise notions of cleanliness required, +which, joined to other detections of a more petty description, stirred +her bile in no small degree; so that while she disarranged and arranged +the <i>bink</i>, she maundered, in an under tone, complaints and menaces +against the absent delinquent.</p> + +<p>The entrance of a guest did not induce her to suspend this agreeable +amusement—she just glanced at him as he entered, then turned her back +short on him, and continued her labour and her soliloquy of lamentation. +Truth is, she thought she recognised in the person of the stranger, one +of those useful envoys of the commercial community, called, by +themselves and the waiters, <i>Travellers</i>, par excellence—by others, +Riders and Bagmen. Now against this class of customers Meg had peculiar +prejudices; because, there being no shops in the old village of Saint +Ronan's, the said commercial emissaries, for the convenience of their +traffic, always took up their abode at the New Inn, or Hotel, in the +rising and rival village called Saint Ronan's Well, unless when some +straggler, by chance or dire necessity, was compelled to lodge himself +at the Auld Town, as the place of Meg's residence began to be generally +termed. She had, therefore, no sooner formed the hasty conclusion, that +the individual in question belonged to this obnoxious class, than she +resumed her former occupation, and continued to soliloquize and +apostrophize her absent<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_22" id="vol_i_Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> handmaidens, without even appearing sensible of +his presence.</p> + +<p>“The huzzy Beenie—the jaud Eppie—the deil's buckie of a +callant!—Another plate gane—they'll break me out of house and ha'!”</p> + +<p>The traveller, who, with his saddle-bags rested on the back of a chair, +had waited in silence for some note of welcome, now saw that, ghost or +no ghost, he must speak first, if he intended to have any notice from +his landlady.</p> + +<p>“You are my old acquaintance, Mrs. Margaret Dods?” said the stranger.</p> + +<p>“What for no?—and wha are ye that speers?” said Meg, in the same +breath, and began to rub a brass candlestick with more vehemence than +before—the dry tone in which she spoke, indicating plainly how little +concern she took in the conversation.</p> + +<p>“A traveller, good Mistress Dods, who comes to take up his lodgings here +for a day or two.”</p> + +<p>“I am thinking ye will be mista'en,” said Meg; “there's nae room for +bags or jaugs here—ye've mista'en your road, neighbour—ye maun e'en +bundle yoursell a bit farther down hill.”</p> + +<p>“I see you have not got the letter I sent you, Mistress Dods?” said the +guest.</p> + +<p>“How should I, man?” answered the hostess; “they have ta'en awa the +post-office from us—moved it down till the Spa-well yonder, as they +ca'd.”</p> + +<p>“Why, that is but a step off,” observed the guest.</p> + +<p>“Ye will get there the sooner,” answered the hostess.</p> + +<p>“Nay, but,” said the guest, “if you had sent there for my letter, you +would have learned”—<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_23" id="vol_i_Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span>—</p> + +<p>“I'm no wanting to learn ony thing at my years,” said Meg. “If folk have +ony thing to write to me about, they may gie the letter to John Hislop, +the carrier, that has used the road these forty years. As for the +letters at the post-mistress's, as they ca' her, down by yonder, they +may bide in her shop-window, wi' the snaps and bawbee rows, till +Beltane, or I loose them. I'll never file my fingers with them. +Post-mistress, indeed!—Upsetting cutty! I mind her fu' weel when she +dree'd penance for ante-nup”——</p> + +<p>Laughing, but interrupting Meg in good time for the character of the +post-mistress, the stranger assured her he had sent his fishing-rod and +trunk to her confidential friend the carrier, and that he sincerely +hoped she would not turn an old acquaintance out of her premises, +especially as he believed he could not sleep in a bed within five miles +of Saint Ronan's, if he knew that her Blue room was unengaged.</p> + +<p>“Fishing-rod!—Auld acquaintance!—Blue room!” echoed Meg, in some +surprise; and, facing round upon the stranger, and examining him with +some interest and curiosity,—“Ye'll be nae bagman, then, after a'?”</p> + +<p>“No,” said the traveller; “not since I have laid the saddle-bags out of +my hand.”</p> + +<p>“Weel, I canna say but I am glad of that—I canna bide their yanking way +of knapping English at every word.—I have kent decent lads amang them +too—What for no?—But that was when they stopped up here whiles, like +other douce folk; but since they gaed d<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_24" id="vol_i_Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span>own, the hail flight of them, +like a string of wild-geese, to the new-fashioned hottle yonder, I am +told there are as mony hellicate tricks played in the travellers' room, +as they behove to call it, as if it were fu' of drunken young lairds.”</p> + +<p>“That is because they have not you to keep good order among them, +Mistress Margaret.”</p> + +<p>“Ay, lad?” replied Meg, “ye are a fine blaw-in-my-lug, to think to +cuittle me off sae cleverly!” And, facing about upon her guest, she +honoured him with a more close and curious investigation than she had at +first designed to bestow upon him.</p> + +<p>All that she remarked was in her opinion rather favourable to the +stranger. He was a well-made man, rather above than under the middle +size, and apparently betwixt five-and-twenty and thirty years of +age—for, although he might, at first glance, have passed for one who +had attained the latter period, yet, on a nearer examination, it seemed +as if the burning sun of a warmer climate than Scotland, and perhaps +some fatigue, both of body and mind, had imprinted the marks of care and +of manhood upon his countenance, without abiding the course of years. +His eyes and teeth were excellent, and his other features, though they +could scarce be termed handsome, expressed sense and acuteness; he bore, +in his aspect, that ease and composure of manner, equally void of +awkwardness and affectation, which is said emphatically to mark the +gentleman; and, although neither the plainness of his dress, nor the +total want of the usual attendants, allowed Meg to suppose him a wealthy +man, she had little doubt that he was above the rank of her lodgers in +general. Amidst these observations, and while she was in the course of +making them, the good landlady was embarrassed wi<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_25" id="vol_i_Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span>th various obscure +recollections of having seen the object of them formerly; but when, or +on what occasion, she was quite unable to call to remembrance. She was +particularly puzzled by the cold and sarcastic expression of a +countenance, which she could not by any means reconcile with the +recollections which it awakened. At length she said, with as much +courtesy as she was capable of assuming,—“Either I have seen you +before, sir, or some ane very like ye?—Ye ken the Blue room, too, and +you a stranger in these parts?”</p> + +<p>“Not so much a stranger as you may suppose, Meg,” said the guest, +assuming a more intimate tone, “when I call myself Frank Tyrrel.”</p> + +<p>“Tirl!” exclaimed Meg, with a tone of wonder—“It's impossible! You +cannot be Francie Tirl, the wild callant that was fishing and +bird-nesting here seven or eight years syne—it canna be—Francie was +but a callant!”</p> + +<p>“But add seven or eight years to that boy's life, Meg,” said the +stranger gravely, “and you will find you have the man who is now before +you.”</p> + +<p>“Even sae!” said Meg, with a glance at the reflection of her own +countenance in the copper coffee-pot, which she had scoured so brightly +that it did the office of a mirror—“Just e'en sae—but folk maun grow +auld or die.—But, Maister Tirl, for I mauna ca' ye Francie now, I am +thinking”——</p> + +<p>“Call me what you please, good dame,” said the stranger; “it has been so +long since I heard any one call me by a name that sounded like former +kindness, that such a one is more agreeable to me than a lord's title +would be.”</p> + +<p>“Weel, then, Maister Francie—if it be no offence to you—I hope ye are +no a Nabob?”</p> + +<p>“Not I, I can safely assure you, my old f<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_26" id="vol_i_Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span>riend;—but what an I were?”</p> + +<p>“Naething—only maybe I might bid ye gang farther, and be waur +served.—Nabobs, indeed! the country's plagued wi' them. They have +raised the price of eggs and pootry for twenty miles round—But what is +my business?—They use amaist a' of them the Well down by—they need it, +ye ken, for the clearing of their copper complexions, that need scouring +as much as my saucepans, that naebody can clean but mysell.”</p> + +<p>“Well, my good friend,” said Tyrrel, “the upshot of all this is, I hope, +that I am to stay and have dinner here?”</p> + +<p>“What for no?” replied Mrs. Dods.</p> + +<p>“And that I am to have the Blue room for a night or two—perhaps +longer?”</p> + +<p>“I dinna ken that,” said the dame.—“The Blue room is the best—and they +that get neist best, are no ill aff in this warld.”</p> + +<p>“Arrange it as you will,” said the stranger, “I leave the whole matter +to you, mistress.—Meantime, I will go see after my horse.”</p> + +<p>“The merciful man,” said Meg, when her guest had left the kitchen, “is +merciful to his beast.—He had aye something about him by ordinar, that +callant—But eh, sirs! there is a sair change on his cheek-haffit since +I saw him last!—He sall no want a good dinner for auld lang syne, that +I'se engage for.”</p> + +<p>Meg set about the necessary preparations with all the natural energy of +her disposition, which was so much exerted upon her culinary cares, that +her two maids, on their return to the house, escaped the bitter +reprimand which she had been previously conning ov<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_27" id="vol_i_Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span>er, in reward for +their alleged slatternly negligence. Nay, so far did she carry her +complaisance, that when Tyrrel crossed the kitchen to recover his +saddle-bags, she formally rebuked Eppie for an idle taupie, for not +carrying the gentleman's things to his room.</p> + +<p>“I thank you, mistress,” said Tyrrel; “but I have some drawings and +colours in these saddle-bags, and I always like to carry them myself.”</p> + +<p>“Ay, and are you at the painting trade yet?” said Meg; “an unco slaister +ye used to make with it lang syne.”</p> + +<p>“I cannot live without it,” said Tyrrel; and taking the saddle-bags, was +formally inducted by the maid into a snug apartment, where he soon had +the satisfaction to behold a capital dish of minced collops, with +vegetables, and a jug of excellent ale, placed on the table by the +careful hand of Meg herself. He could do no less, in acknowledgment of +the honour, than ask Meg for a bottle of the yellow seal, “if there was +any of that excellent claret still left.”</p> + +<p>“Left?—ay is there, walth of it,” said Meg; “I dinna gie it to every +body—Ah! Maister Tirl, ye have not got ower your auld tricks!—I am +sure, if ye are painting for your leeving, as you say, a little rum and +water would come cheaper, and do ye as much good. But ye maun hae your +ain way the day, nae doubt, if ye should never have it again.”</p> + +<p>Away trudged Meg, her keys clattering as she went, and, after much +rummaging, returned with such a bottle of claret as no fashionable +tavern could have produced, were it called for by a duke, or at a duke's +price; and she seemed not a little gratified whe<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_28" id="vol_i_Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span>n her guest assured her +that he had not yet forgotten its excellent flavour. She retired after +these acts of hospitality, and left the stranger to enjoy in quiet the +excellent matters which she had placed before him.</p> + +<p>But there was that on Tyrrel's mind which defied the enlivening power of +good cheer and of wine, which only maketh man's heart glad when that +heart has no secret oppression to counteract its influence. Tyrrel found +himself on a spot which he had loved in that delightful season, when +youth and high spirits awaken all those flattering promises which are so +ill kept to manhood. He drew his chair into the embrasure of the +old-fashioned window, and throwing up the sash to enjoy the fresh air, +suffered his thoughts to return to former days, while his eyes wandered +over objects which they had not looked upon for several eventful years. +He could behold beneath his eye, the lower part of the decayed village, +as its ruins peeped from the umbrageous shelter with which they were +shrouded. Still lower down, upon the little holm which formed its +church-yard, was seen the Kirk of Saint Ronan's; and looking yet +farther, towards the junction of Saint Ronan's burn with the river which +traversed the larger dale or valley, he could see whitened, by the +western sun, the rising houses, which were either newly finished, or in +the act of being built, about the medicinal spring.</p> + +<p>“Time changes all around us,” such was the course of natural though +trite reflection, which flowed upon Tyrrel's mind; “wherefore should +loves and friendships have a longer date than our dwellings and our +monuments?” As he indulged these sombre recollections, his officious +landlady disturbed their tenor by her entrance.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_29" id="vol_i_Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span></p> +<p>“I was thinking to offer you a dish of tea, Maister Francie, just for +the sake of auld lang syne, and I'll gar the quean Beenie bring it +here, and mask it mysell.—But ye arena done with your wine yet?”</p> + +<p>“I am indeed, Mrs. Dods,” answered Tyrrel; “and I beg you will remove +the bottle.”</p> + +<p>“Remove the bottle, and the wine no half drank out!” said Meg, +displeasure lowering on her brow; “I hope there is nae fault to be found +wi' the wine, Maister Tirl?”</p> + +<p>To this answer, which was put in a tone resembling defiance, Tyrrel +submissively replied, by declaring “the claret not only unexceptionable, +but excellent.”</p> + +<p>“And what for dinna ye drink it, then?” said Meg, sharply; “folk should +never ask for mair liquor than they can make a gude use of. Maybe ye +think we have the fashion of the table-dot, as they ca' their newfangled +ordinary down-by yonder, where a' the bits of vinegar cruets are put awa +into an awmry, as they tell me, and ilk ane wi' the bit dribbles of +syndings in it, and a paper about the neck o't, to show which of the +customers is aught it—there they stand like doctor's drogs—and no an +honest Scottish mutchkin will ane o' their viols haud, granting it were +at the fouest.”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps,” said Tyrrel, willing to indulge the spleen and prejudice of +his old acquaintance, “perhaps the wine is not so good as to make full +measure desirable.”</p> + +<p>“Ye may say that, lad—and yet them that sell it might afford a gude +penniworth, for they hae it for the making—maist feck of it ne'er saw +France or Portugal. But a<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_30" id="vol_i_Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span>s I was saying—this is no ane of their +newfangled places, where wine is put by for them that canna drink +it—when the cork's drawn the bottle maun be drank out—and what for +no?—unless it be corkit.”</p> + +<p>“I agree entirely, Meg,” said her guest; “but my ride to-day has +somewhat heated me—and I think the dish of tea you promise me, will do +me more good than to finish my bottle.”</p> + +<p>“Na, then, the best I can do for you is to put it by, to be sauce for +the wild-duck the morn; for I think ye said ye were to bide here for a +day or twa.”</p> + +<p>“It is my very purpose, Meg, unquestionably,” replied Tyrrel.</p> + +<p>“Sae be it then,” said Mrs. Dods; “and then the liquor's no lost—it has +been seldom sic claret as that has simmered in a saucepan, let me tell +you that, neighbour;—and I mind the day, when, headache or nae +headache, ye wad hae been at the hinder-end of that bottle, and maybe +anither, if ye could have gotten it wiled out of me. But then ye had +your cousin to help you—Ah! he was a blithe bairn that Valentine +Bulmer!—Ye were a canty callant too, Maister Francie, and muckle ado I +had to keep ye baith in order when ye were on the ramble. But ye were a +thought doucer than Valentine—But O! he was a bonny laddie!—wi' e'en +like diamonds, cheeks like roses, a head like a heather-tap—he was the +first I ever saw wear a crap, as they ca' it, but a' body cheats the +barber now—and he had a laugh that wad hae raised the dead!—What wi' +flyting on him, and what wi' laughing at him, there was nae minding ony +other body when that Valentine was in the house.—And how is your cousin +Valentine Bulmer, Maister Francie?”</p> + +<p>Tyrrel looked down, and only answered wi<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_31" id="vol_i_Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span>th a sigh.</p> + +<p>“Ay—and is it even sae?” said Meg; “and has the puir bairn been sae +soon removed frae this fashious warld?—Ay—ay—we maun a' gang ae +gate—crackit quart stoups and geisen'd barrels—leaky quaighs are we +a', and canna keep in the liquor of life—Ohon, sirs!—Was the puir lad +Bulmer frae Bu'mer bay, where they land the Hollands, think ye, Maister +Francie?—They whiles rin in a pickle tea there too—I hope that is good +that I have made you, Maister Francie?”</p> + +<p>“Excellent, my good dame,” said Tyrrel; but it was in a tone of voice +which intimated that she had pressed upon a subject that awakened some +unpleasant reflections.</p> + +<p>“And when did this puir lad die?” continued Meg, who was not without her +share of Eve's qualities, and wished to know something concerning what +seemed to affect her guest so particularly; but he disappointed her +purpose, and at the same time awakened another train of sentiment in her +mind, by turning again to the window, and looking upon the distant +buildings of Saint Ronan's Well. As if he had observed for the first +time these new objects, he said to Mistress Dods in an indifferent tone, +“You have got some gay new neighbours yonder, mistress.”</p> + +<p>“Neighbours!” said Meg, her wrath beginning to arise, as it always did +upon any allusion to this sore subject—“Ye may ca' them neighbours, if +ye like—but the deil flee awa wi' the neighbourhood for Meg Dods!”</p> + +<p>“I suppose,” said Tyrrel, as if he did not observe her displeasure, +“that yonder is the Fox Hotel they told me of?”</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_32" id="vol_i_Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span></p> +<p>“The Fox!” said Meg: “I am sure it is the fox that has carried off a' my +geese.—I might shut up house, Maister Francie, if it was the thing I +lived by—me, that has seen a' our gentlefolk bairns, and gien them +snaps and sugar-biscuit maist of them wi' my ain hand! They wad hae seen +my father's roof-tree fa' down and smoor me before they wad hae gien a +boddle a-piece to have propped it up—but they could a' link out their +fifty pounds ower head to bigg a hottle at the Well yonder. And muckle +they hae made o't—the bankrupt body, Sandie Lawson, hasna paid them a +bawbee of four terms' rent.”</p> + +<p>“Surely, mistress, I think if the Well became so famous for its cures, +the least the gentlemen could have done was to make you the priestess.”</p> + +<p>“Me priestess! I am nae Quaker, I wot, Maister Francie; and I never +heard of alewife that turned preacher, except Luckie Buchan in the +west.<a name="vol_i_FNanchor_8_8" id="vol_i_FNanchor_8_8"></a><a href="#vol_i_Footnote_8_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a> And if I were to preach, I think I have mair the spirit of a +Scottishwoman, than to preach in the very room they hae been dancing in +ilka night in the week, Saturday itsell not excepted, and that till twal +o'clock at night. Na, na, Maister Francie; I leave the like o' that to +Mr. Simon Chatterly, as they ca' the bit prelatical sprig of divinity +from the town yonder, that plays at cards, and dances six days in the +week, and on the seventh reads the Common Prayer-book in the ball-room, +with Tam Simson, the drunken barber, for his clerk.”</p> + +<p>“I think I have heard of Mr. Chatterly,” said Tyr<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_33" id="vol_i_Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span>rel.</p> + +<p>“Ye'll be thinking o' the sermon he has printed,” said the angry dame, +“where he compares their nasty puddle of a Well yonder to the pool of +Bethseda, like a foul-mouthed, fleeching, feather-headed fule as he is! +He should hae kend that the place got a' its fame in the times of black +Popery; and though they pat it in St. Ronan's name, I'll never believe +for one that the honest man had ony hand in it; for I hae been tell'd by +ane that suld ken, that he was nae Roman, but only a Cuddie, or +Culdee,<a name="vol_i_FNanchor_C_26" id="vol_i_FNanchor_C_26"></a><a href="#vol_i_Footnote_C_26" class="fnanchor">[C]</a> or such like.—But will ye not take anither dish of tea, +Maister Francie? and a wee bit of the diet-loaf, raised wi' my ain fresh +butter, Maister Francie? and no wi' greasy kitchen-fee, like the +seedcake down at the confectioner's yonder, that has as mony dead flees +as carvy in it. Set him up for a confectioner!—Wi' a penniworth of +rye-meal, and anither of tryacle, and twa or three carvy-seeds, I will +make better confections than ever cam out of his oven.”</p> + +<p>“I have no doubt of that, Mrs. Dods,” said the guest; “and I only wish +to know how these new comers were able to establish themselves against a +house of such good reputation and old standing as yours?—It was the +virtues of the mineral, I dare say; but how came the waters to recover a +character all at once, mistress?”</p> + +<p>“I dinna ken, sir—they used to be thought good for naething, but here +and there for a puir body's bairn, that had gotten the cruells,<a name="vol_i_FNanchor_9_9" id="vol_i_FNanchor_9_9"></a><a href="#vol_i_Footnote_9_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a> and +could not afford a penniworth of salts. But my Leddy Penelope Penfea<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_34" id="vol_i_Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span>ther +had fa'an ill, it's like, as nae other body ever fell ill, and sae she +was to be cured some gate naebody was ever cured, which was naething +mair than was reasonable—and my leddy, ye ken, has wit at wull, and has +a' the wise folk out from Edinburgh at her house at Windywa's yonder, +which it is her leddyship's wull and pleasure to call Air-castle—and +they have a' their different turns, and some can clink verses, wi' their +tale, as weel as Rob Burns or Allan Ramsay—and some rin up hill and +down dale, knapping the chucky stanes to pieces wi' hammers, like sae +mony road-makers run daft—they say it is to see how the warld was +made!—and some that play on all manner of ten-stringed instruments—and +a wheen sketching souls, that ye may see perched like craws on every +craig in the country, e'en working at your ain trade, Maister Francie; +forby men that had been in foreign parts, or said they had been there, +whilk is a' ane, ye ken; and maybe twa or three draggletailed misses, +that wear my Leddy Penelope's follies when she has dune wi' them, as her +queans of maids wear her second-hand claithes. So, after her leddyship's +happy recovery, as they ca'd it, down cam the hail tribe of wild-geese, +and settled by the Well, to dine thereout on the bare grund, like a +wheen tinklers; and they had sangs, and tunes, and healths, nae doubt, +in praise of the fountain, as they ca'd the Well, and of Leddy Penelope +Penfeather; and, lastly, they behoved a' to take a solemn bumper of the +spring, which, as I'm tauld, made unco havoc amang them or they wan +hame; and this they ca'd picknick, and a plague to them! And sae the jig +was begun after her leddyship's pipe, and mony a mad measure has been +danced sin' syne; for down cam masons<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_35" id="vol_i_Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> and murgeon-makers, and preachers +and player-folk, and Episcopalians and Methodists, and fools and +fiddlers, and Papists and pie-bakers, and doctors and drugsters; by the +shop-folk, that sell trash and trumpery at three prices—and so up got +the bonny new Well, and down fell the honest auld town of Saint Ronan's, +where blithe decent folk had been heartsome eneugh for mony a day before +ony o' them were born, or ony sic vapouring fancies kittled in their +cracked brains.”</p> + +<p>“What said your landlord, the Laird of Saint Ronan's, to all this?” said +Tyrrel.</p> + +<p>“Is't <i>my</i> landlord ye are asking after, Maister Francie?—the Laird of +Saint Ronan's is nae landlord of mine, and I think ye might hae minded +that.—Na, na, thanks be to Praise! Meg Dods is baith land<i>lord</i> and +land<i>leddy</i>. Ill eneugh to keep the doors open as it is, let be facing +Whitsunday and Martinmas—an auld leather pock there is, Maister +Francie, in ane of worthy Maister Bindloose the sheriff-clerk's +pigeon-holes, in his dowcot of a closet in the burgh; and therein is +baith charter and sasine, and special service to boot; and that will be +chapter and verse, speer when ye list.”</p> + +<p>“I had quite forgotten,” said Tyrrel, “that the inn was your own; though +I remember you were a considerable landed proprietor.”</p> + +<p>“Maybe I am,” replied Meg, “maybe I am not: and if I be, what for +no?—But as to what the Laird, whose grandfather was my father's +landlord, said to the new doings yonder—he just jumped at the ready +penny, like a cock at a grosert, and feu'd the bonny holm beside the +Well, that they ca'd the Saint-Well-holm, that was like the best land in +his aught, to be carved, and biggit, and howkit up,<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_36" id="vol_i_Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> just at the pleasure +of Jock Ashler the stane-mason, that ca's himsell an arkiteck—there's +nae living for new words in this new warld neither, and that is another +vex to auld folk such as me.—It's a shame o' the young Laird, to let +his auld patrimony gang the gate it's like to gang, and my heart is sair +to see't, though it has but little cause to care what comes of him or +his.”</p> + +<p>“Is it the same Mr. Mowbray,” said Mr. Tyrrel, “who still holds the +estate?—the old gentleman, you know, whom I had some dispute with”——</p> + +<p>“About hunting moorfowl upon the Spring-well-head muirs?” said Meg. “Ah, +lad! honest Mr. Bindloose brought you neatly off there—Na, it's no that +honest man, but his son John Mowbray—the t'other has slept down-by in +Saint Ronan's Kirk for these six or seven years.”</p> + +<p>“Did he leave,” asked Tyrrel, with something of a faltering voice, “no +other child than the present Laird?”</p> + +<p>“No other son,” said Meg; “and there's e'en eneugh, unless he could have +left a better ane.”</p> + +<p>“He died then,” said Tyrrel, “excepting this son, without children?”</p> + +<p>“By your leave, no,” said Meg; “there is the lassie Miss Clara, that +keeps house for the Laird, if it can be ca'd keeping house, for he is +almost aye down at the Well yonder—so a sma' kitchen serves them at the +Shaws.”</p> + +<p>“Miss Clara will have but a dull time of it there during her brother's +absence?” said the stranger.</p> + +<p>“Out no!—he has her aften jinketing about, and back and forward, wi' a' +the fine flichtering fools that come yonder; and clapping palms wi' +them, and linking at their dances and daffings. I wuss nae <span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_37" id="vol_i_Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span>ill come o't, +but it's a shame her father's daughter should keep company wi' a' that +scauff and raff of physic-students, and writers' prentices, and bagmen, +and siclike trash as are down at the Well yonder.”</p> + +<p>“You are severe, Mrs. Dods,” replied the guest. “No doubt Miss Clara's +conduct deserves all sort of freedom.”</p> + +<p>“I am saying naething against her conduct,” said the dame; “and there's +nae ground to say onything that I ken of—But I wad hae like draw to +like, Maister Francie. I never quarrelled the ball that the gentry used +to hae at my bit house a gude wheen years bygane—when they came, the +auld folk in their coaches, wi' lang-tailed black horses, and a wheen +galliard gallants on their hunting horses, and mony a decent leddy +behind her ain goodman, and mony a bonny smirking lassie on her pownie, +and wha sae happy as they—And what for no? And then there was the +farmers' ball, wi' the tight lads of yeomen with the bran new blues and +the buckskins—These were decent meetings—but then they were a' ae +man's bairns that were at them, ilk ane kend ilk other—they danced +farmers wi' farmers' daughters, at the tane, and gentles wi' gentle +blood, at the t'other, unless maybe when some of the gentlemen of the +Killnakelty Club would gie me a round of the floor mysell, in the way of +daffing and fun, and me no able to flyte on them for laughing—I am sure +I never grudged these innocent pleasures, although it has cost me maybe +a week's redding up, before I got the better of the confusion.”</p> + +<p>“But, dame,” said Tyrrel, “this ceremonial would be a little hard upon +strangers like myself, for how were we to find partners in these family +parties of yours?”<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_38" id="vol_i_Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Never you fash your thumb about that, Maister Francie,” returned the +landlady, with a knowing wink.—“Every Jack will find a Jill, gang the +world as it may—and, at the warst o't, better hae some fashery in +finding a partner for the night, than get yoked with ane that you may +not be able to shake off the morn.”</p> + +<p>“And does that sometimes happen?” asked the stranger.</p> + +<p>“Happen!—and is't amang the Well folk that ye mean?” exclaimed the +hostess. “Was it not the last season, as they ca't, no farther gane, +that young Sir Bingo Binks, the English lad wi' the red coat, that keeps +a mail-coach, and drives it himsell, gat cleekit with Miss Rachel +Bonnyrigg, the auld Leddy Loupengirth's lang-legged daughter—and they +danced sae lang thegither, that there was mair said than suld hae been +said about it—and the lad would fain hae louped back, but the auld +leddy held him to his tackle, and the Commissary Court and somebody else +made her Leddy Binks in spite of Sir Bingo's heart—and he has never +daured take her to his friends in England, but they have just wintered +and summered it at the Well ever since—and that is what the Well is +good for!”</p> + +<p>“And does Clara,—I mean does Miss Mowbray, keep company with such women +as these?” said Tyrrel, with a tone of interest which he checked as he +proceeded with the question.</p> + +<p>“What can she do, puir thing?” said the dame. “She maun keep the company +that her brother keeps, for she is clearly dependent.—But<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_39" id="vol_i_Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span>, speaking of +that, I ken what I have to do, and that is no little, before it darkens. +I have sat clavering with you ower lang, Maister Francie.”</p> + +<p>And away she marched with a resolved step, and soon the clear octaves of +her voice were heard in shrill admonition to her handmaidens.</p> + +<p>Tyrrel paused a moment in deep thought, then took his hat, paid a visit +to the stable, where his horse saluted him with feathering ears, and +that low amicable neigh, with which that animal acknowledges the +approach of a loving and beloved friend. Having seen that the faithful +creature was in every respect attended to, Tyrrel availed himself of the +continued and lingering twilight, to visit the old Castle, which, upon +former occasions, had been his favourite evening walk. He remained while +the light permitted, admiring the prospect we attempted to describe in +the first chapter, and comparing, as in his former reverie, the faded +hues of the glimmering landscape to those of human life, when early +youth and hope have ceased to gild them.</p> + +<p>A brisk walk to the inn, and a light supper on a Welsh rabbit and the +dame's home-brewed, were stimulants of livelier, at least mor<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_40" id="vol_i_Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span>e resigned +thoughts—and the Blue bedroom, to the honours of which he had been +promoted, received him a contented, if not a cheerful tenant.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol_i_CHAPTER_III" id="vol_i_CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III.</h2> + +<h3>ADMINISTRATION.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">There must be government in all society—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bees have their Queen, and stag-herds have their leader;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Rome had her Consuls, Athens had her Archons,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And we, sir, have our Managing Committee.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="citation"> +<i>The Album of St. Ronan's.</i><br /> +</p> + + +<p>Francis Tyrrel was, in the course of the next day, formally settled in +his old quarters, where he announced his purpose of remaining for +several days. The old-established carrier of the place brought his +fishing-rod and travelling-trunk, with a letter to Meg, dated a week +previously, desiring her to prepare to receive an old acquaintance. This +annunciation, though something of the latest, Meg received with great +complacency, observing it was a civil attention in Maister Tirl; and +that John Hislop, though he was not just sae fast, was far surer than +ony post of them a', or express either. She also observed with +satisfaction, that there was no gun-case along with her guest's baggage; +“for that weary gunning had brought him and her into trouble—the lairds +had cried out upon't, as if she made her house a howff for common +fowlers and poachers; <span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_41" id="vol_i_Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span>and yet how could she hinder twa daft hempie +callants from taking a start and an ower-loup?<a name="vol_i_FNanchor_10_10" id="vol_i_FNanchor_10_10"></a><a href="#vol_i_Footnote_10_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a> They had been ower +the neighbour's ground they had leave on up to the march, and they +werena just to ken meiths when the moorfowl got up.”</p> + +<p>In a day or two, her guest fell into such quiet and solitary habits, +that Meg, herself the most restless and bustling of human creatures, +began to be vexed, for want of the trouble which she expected to have +had with him, experiencing, perhaps, the same sort of feeling from his +extreme and passive indifference on all points, that a good horseman has +for the over-patient steed, which he can scarce feel under him. His +walks were devoted to the most solitary recesses among the neighbouring +woods and hills—his fishing-rod was often left behind him, or carried +merely as an apology for sauntering slowly by the banks of some little +brooklet—and his success so indifferent, that Meg said the piper of +Peebles<a name="vol_i_FNanchor_11_11" id="vol_i_FNanchor_11_11"></a><a href="#vol_i_Footnote_11_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</a> would have caught a creelfu' before Maister Francie made out +the half-dozen; so that he was obliged, for peace's sake, to vindicate +his character, by killing a handsome salmon.</p> + +<p>Tyrrel's painting, as Meg called it, went on equally slowly: He often, +indeed, showed her the sketches which he brought from his walks, and +used to finish at home; but Meg held them very cheap. What signified, +she said, a wheen bits of paper, wi' black and white scarts upon them, +that he ca'd bushes, and trees, and craigs?—Couldna he paint them wi' +green, and blue, and yellow, like the other folk? “Ye will never mak +your bread that way, Maister Francie. Ye suld munt up a muckle square of +canvass, like Dick Tinto, and paint folks ainsells, that they like<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_42" id="vol_i_Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> +muckle better to see than ony craig in the haill water; and I wadna +muckle objeck even to some of the Wallers coming up and sitting to ye. +They waste their time waur, I wis—and, I warrant, ye might make a +guinea a-head of them. Dick made twa, but he was an auld used hand, and +folk maun creep before they gang.”</p> + +<p>In answer to these remonstrances, Tyrrel assured her, that the sketches +with which he busied himself were held of such considerable value, that +very often an artist in that line received much higher remuneration for +these, than for portraits or coloured drawings. He added, that they were +often taken for the purpose of illustrating popular poems, and hinted as +if he himself were engaged in some labour of that nature.</p> + +<p>Eagerly did Meg long to pour forth to Nelly Trotter, the +fishwoman,—whose cart formed the only neutral channel of communication +between the Auld Town and the Well, and who was in favour with Meg, +because, as Nelly passed her door in her way to the Well, she always had +the first choice of her fish,—the merits of her lodger as an artist. +Luckie Dods had, in truth, been so much annoyed and bullied, as it were, +with the report of clever persons, accomplished in all sorts of +excellence, arriving day after day at the Hotel, that she was overjoyed +in this fortunate opportunity to triumph over them in their own way; and +it may be believed, that the excellences of her lodger lost nothing by +being trumpeted through her mouth.</p> + +<p>“I maun hae the best of the cart, Nelly—if you and me can gree—for it +is for ane of the best of painters. Your fine folk down yonder would gie +their lugs to look at what he has been doing—he gets gowd in<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_43" id="vol_i_Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> goupins, +for three downright skarts and three cross anes—And he is no an +ungrateful loon, like Dick Tinto, that had nae sooner my good +five-and-twenty shillings in his pocket, than he gaed down to birl it +awa at their bonny hottle yonder, but a decent quiet lad, that kens when +he is weel aff, and bides still at the auld howff—And what for +no?—Tell them all this, and hear what they will say till't.”</p> + +<p>“Indeed, mistress, I can tell ye that already, without stirring my +shanks for the matter,” answered Nelly Trotter; “they will e'en say that +ye are ae auld fule, and me anither, that may hae some judgment in +cock-bree or in scate-rumples, but mauna fash our beards about ony thing +else.”</p> + +<p>“Wad they say sae, the frontless villains! and me been a housekeeper +this thirty year!” exclaimed Meg; “I wadna hae them say it to my face! +But I am no speaking without warrant—for what an I had spoken to the +minister, lass, and shown him ane of the loose skarts of paper that +Maister Tirl leaves fleeing about his room?—and what an he had said he +had kend Lord Bidmore gie five guineas for the waur on't? and a' the +warld kens he was lang tutor in the Bidmore family.”</p> + +<p>“Troth,” answered her gossip, “I doubt if I was to tell a' this they +would hardly believe me, mistress; for there are sae mony judges amang +them, and they think sae muckle of themsells, and sae little of other +folk, that unless ye were to send down the bit picture, I am no thinking +they will believe a word that I can tell them.”</p> + +<p>“No believe what an honest woman says—let abee to say twa o' them?” +exclaimed Meg; “O the unbelievi<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_44" id="vol_i_Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span>ng generation!—Weel, Nelly, since my +back is up, ye sall tak down the picture, or sketching, or whatever it +is, (though I thought sketchers<a name="vol_i_FNanchor_12_12" id="vol_i_FNanchor_12_12"></a><a href="#vol_i_Footnote_12_12" class="fnanchor">[12]</a> were aye made of airn,) and shame +wi' it the conceited crew that they are.—But see and bring't back wi' +ye again, Nelly, for it's a thing of value; and trustna it out o' your +hand, <i>that</i> I charge you, for I lippen no muckle to their +honesty.—And, Nelly, ye may tell them he has an illustrated +poem—<i>illustrated</i>—mind the word, Nelly—that is to be stuck as fou o' +the like o' that, as ever turkey was larded wi' dabs o' bacon.”</p> + +<p>Thus furnished with her credentials, and acting the part of a herald +betwixt two hostile countries, honest Nelly switched her little +fish-cart downwards to St. Ronan's Well.</p> + +<p>In watering-places, as in other congregated assemblies of the human +species, various kinds of government have been dictated, by chance, +caprice, or convenience; but in almost all of them, some sort of +direction has been adopted, to prevent the consequences of anarchy. +Sometimes the sole power has been vested in a Master of Ceremonies; but +this, like other despotisms, has been of late unfashionable, and the +powers of this great officer have been much limited even at Bath, where +Nash once ruled with undisputed supremacy. Committees of management, +chosen from among the most steady guests, have been in general resorted +to, as a more liberal mode of sway, and to such was confided the +administration of the infant republic of St. Ronan's Well. This little +senate, it must be observed, had the more difficult task in discharging +their high duties, that, like those of other republics, their subjects +were divided into two jarring and contending fac<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_45" id="vol_i_Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span>tions, who every day +eat, drank, danced, and made merry together, hating each other all the +while with all the animosity of political party, endeavouring by every +art to secure the adherence of each guest who arrived, and ridiculing +the absurdities and follies of each other, with all the wit and +bitterness of which they were masters.</p> + +<p>At the head of one of these parties was no less a personage than Lady +Penelope Penfeather, to whom the establishment owed its fame, nay, its +existence; and whose influence could only have been balanced by that of +the Lord of the Manor, Mr. Mowbray of St. Ronan's, or, as he was called +usually by the company who affected what Meg called knapping English, +The Squire, who was leader of the opposite faction.</p> + +<p>The rank and fortune of the lady, her pretensions to beauty as well as +talent, (though the former was something faded,) and the consequence +which she arrogated to herself as a woman of fashion, drew round her +painters and poets, and philosophers, and men of science, and lecturers, +and foreign adventurers, <i>et hoc genus omne</i>.</p> + +<p>On the contrary, the Squire's influence, as a man of family and property +in the immediate neighbourhood, who actually kept greyhounds and +pointers, and at least talked of hunters and of racers, ascertained him +the support of the whole class of bucks, half and whole bred, from the +three next counties; and if more inducements were wanting, he could +grant his favourites the privilege of shooting over his moors, which is +enough to turn the head of a young Scottishman at any time. Mr. Mowbray +was of late especially supported in his pre-eminence, by a close +alliance with Sir Bingo Binks, a sapient English<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_46" id="vol_i_Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> Baronet, who, ashamed, +as many thought, to return to his own country, had set him down at the +Well of St. Ronan's, to enjoy the blessing which the Caledonian Hymen +had so kindly forced on him in the person of Miss Rachel Bonnyrigg. As +this gentleman actually drove a regular-built mail-coach, not in any +respect differing from that of his Majesty, only that it was more +frequently overturned, his influence with a certain set was +irresistible, and the Squire of St. Ronan's, having the better sense of +the two, contrived to reap the full benefit of the consequence attached +to his friendship.</p> + +<p>These two contending parties were so equally balanced, that the +predominance of the influence of either was often determined by the +course of the sun. Thus, in the morning and forenoon, when Lady Penelope +led forth her herd to lawn and shady bower, whether to visit some ruined +monument of ancient times, or eat their pic-nic luncheon, to spoil good +paper with bad drawings, and good verses with repetition—in a word,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“To rave, recite, and madden round the land,”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>her ladyship's empire over the loungers seemed uncontrolled and +absolute, and all things were engaged in the <i>tourbillon</i>, of which she +formed the pivot and centre. Even the hunters, and shooters, and hard +drinkers, were sometimes fain reluctantly to follow in her train, +sulking, and quizzing, and flouting at her solemn festivals, besides +encouraging the younger nymphs to giggle when they should have looked +sentimental. But after dinner the scene was changed, and her ladyship's +sweetest smiles, and softest invitations, were often insufficient to +draw the neutral part of the company to the tea-room; so<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_47" id="vol_i_Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> that her +society was reduced to those whose constitution or finances rendered +early retirement from the dining-parlour a matter of convenience, +together with the more devoted and zealous of her own immediate +dependents and adherents. Even the faith of the latter was apt to be +debauched. Her ladyship's poet-laureate, in whose behalf she was teazing +each new-comer for subscriptions, got sufficiently independent to sing +in her ladyship's presence, at supper, a song of rather equivocal +meaning; and her chief painter, who was employed upon an illustrated +copy of the Loves of the Plants, was, at another time, seduced into such +a state of pot-valour, that, upon her ladyship's administering her usual +dose of criticism upon his works, he not only bluntly disputed her +judgment, but talked something of his right to be treated like a +gentleman.</p> + +<p>These feuds were taken up by the Managing Committee, who interceded for +the penitent offenders on the following morning, and obtained their +re-establishment in Lady Penelope's good graces, upon moderate terms. +Many other acts of moderating authority they performed, much to the +assuaging of faction, and the quiet of the Wellers; and so essential was +their government to the prosperity of the place, that, without them, St. +Ronan's spring would probably have been speedily deserted. We must, +therefore, give a brief sketch of that potential Committee, which both +factions, acting as if on a self-denying ordinance, had combined to +invest with the reins of government.</p> + +<p>Each of its members appeared to be selected, as Fortunio, in the +fairy-tale,<a name="vol_i_FNanchor_D_27" id="vol_i_FNanchor_D_27"></a><a href="#vol_i_Footnote_D_27" class="fnanchor">[D]</a> chose his followers, for his peculiar gifts. First on the +list stood the <span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_48" id="vol_i_Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span><span class="smcap">Man of Medicine</span>, Dr. Quentin Quackleben, who claimed +right to regulate medical matters at the spring, upon the principle +which, of old, assigned the property of a newly discovered country to +the bucanier who committed the earliest piracy on its shores. The +acknowledgment of the Doctor's merit as having been first to proclaim +and vindicate the merits of these healing fountains, had occasioned his +being universally installed First Physician and Man of Science, which +last qualification he could apply to all purposes, from the boiling of +an egg to the giving a lecture. He was, indeed, qualified, like many of +his profession, to spread both the bane and antidote before a dyspeptic +patient, being as knowing a gastronome as Dr. Redgill himself, or any +other worthy physician who has written for the benefit of the <i>cuisine</i>, +from Dr. Moncrieff of Tippermalloch, to the late Dr. Hunter of York, and +the present Dr. Kitchiner of London. But pluralities are always +invidious, and therefore the Doctor prudently relinquished the office of +caterer and head-carver to the Man of Taste, who occupied regularly, and +<i>ex officio</i>, the head of the table, reserving to himself the occasional +privilege of criticising, and a principal share in consuming, the good +things which the common entertainment afforded. We have only to sum up +this brief account of the learned Doctor, by informing the reader that +he was a tall, lean, beetle-browed man, with an ill-made black +scratch-wig, that stared out on either side from his lantern jaws. He +resided nine months out of the twelve at St. Ronan's, and was supposed +to make an indifferent good thing of it,—especially as he played whist +to admiration.</p> + +<p>First in place, though perhaps second to the Doct<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_49" id="vol_i_Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span>or in real authority, +was Mr. Winterblossom; a civil sort of person, who was nicely precise in +his address, wore his hair cued, and dressed with powder, had +knee-buckles set with Bristol stones, and a seal-ring as large as Sir +John Falstaff's. In his heyday he had a small estate, which he had spent +like a gentleman, by mixing with the gay world. He was, in short, one of +those respectable links that connect the coxcombs of the present day +with those of the last age, and could compare, in his own experience, +the follies of both. In latter days, he had sense enough to extricate +himself from his course of dissipation, though with impaired health and +impoverished fortune.</p> + +<p>Mr. Winterblossom now lived upon a moderate annuity, and had discovered +a way of reconciling his economy with much company and made dishes, by +acting as perpetual president of the table-d'hote at the Well. Here he +used to amuse the society by telling stories about Garrick, Foote, +Bonnel Thornton, and Lord Kelly, and delivering his opinions in matters +of taste and vertu. An excellent carver, he knew how to help each guest +to what was precisely his due; and never failed to reserve a proper +slice as the reward of his own labours. To conclude, he was possessed of +some taste in the fine arts, at least in painting and music, although it +was rather of the technical kind, than that which warms the heart and +elevates the feelings. There was, indeed, about Winterblossom, nothing +that was either warm or elevated. He was shrewd, selfish, and sensual; +the last two of which qualities he screened from observation, under a +specious varnish of exterior complaisance. Therefore, in his professed +and apparent anxiety to do the honours of the table, to th<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_50" id="vol_i_Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span>e most +punctilious point of good breeding, he never permitted the attendants +upon the public taste to supply the wants of others, until all his own +private comforts had been fully arranged and provided for.</p> + +<p>Mr. Winterblossom was also distinguished for possessing a few curious +engravings, and other specimens of art, with the exhibition of which he +occasionally beguiled a wet morning at the public room. They were +collected, “<i>viis et modis</i>,” said the Man of Law, another distinguished +member of the Committee, with a knowing cock of his eye to his next +neighbour.</p> + +<p>Of this person little need be said. He was a large-boned, loud-voiced, +red-faced man, named Meiklewham; a country writer, or attorney, who +managed the matters of the Squire much to the profit of one or +other,—if not of both. His nose projected from the front of his broad +vulgar face, like the stile of an old sun-dial, twisted all of one side. +He was as great a bully in his profession, as if it had been military +instead of civil: conducted the whole technicalities concerning the +cutting up the Saint's-Well-haugh, so much lamented by Dame Dods, into +building-stances, and was on excellent terms with Doctor Quackleben, who +always recommended him to make the wills of his patients.</p> + +<p>After the Man of Law comes Captain Mungo MacTurk, a Highland lieutenant +on half-pay, and that of ancient standing; one who preferred toddy of +the strongest to wine, and in that fashion and cold drams finished about +a bottle of whisky <i>per diem</i>, whenever he could come by it. He was +called the Man of Peace, on the same principle which assigns to +constables, Bow-street runners, and such like, who carry bludgeo<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_51" id="vol_i_Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span>ns to +break folk's heads, and are perpetually and officially employed in +scenes of riot, the title of peace-officers—that is, because by his +valour he compelled others to act with discretion. The Captain was the +general referee in all those abortive quarrels, which, at a place of +this kind, are so apt to occur at night, and to be quietly settled in +the morning; and occasionally adopted a quarrel himself, by way of +taking down any guest who was unusually pugnacious. This occupation +procured Captain MacTurk a good deal of respect at the Well; for he was +precisely that sort of person who is ready to fight with any one,—whom +no one can find an apology for declining to fight with,—in fighting +with whom considerable danger was incurred, for he was ever and anon +showing that he could snuff a candle with a pistol ball,—and lastly, +through fighting with whom no eclat or credit could redound to the +antagonist. He always wore a blue coat and red collar, had a +supercilious taciturnity of manner, ate sliced leeks with his cheese, +and resembled in complexion a Dutch red-herring.</p> + +<p>Still remains to be mentioned the Man of Religion—the gentle Mr. Simon +Chatterly, who had strayed to St. Ronan's Well from the banks of Cam or +Isis, and who piqued himself, first on his Greek, and secondly, on his +politeness to the ladies. During all the week days, as Dame Dods has +already hinted, this reverend gentleman was the partner at the +whist-table, or in the ball-room, to what maid or matron soever lacked a +partner at either; and on the Sundays, he read prayers in the public +room to all who chose to attend. He was also a deviser of charades, and +an unriddler of riddles; he played a little on the flute, and was Mr. +Winterblossom's principal a<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_52" id="vol_i_Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span>ssistant in contriving those ingenious and +romantic paths, by which, as by the zig-zags which connect military +parallels, you were enabled to ascend to the top of the hill behind the +hotel, which commands so beautiful a prospect, at exactly that precise +angle of ascent, which entitles a gentleman to offer his arm, and a lady +to accept it, with perfect propriety.</p> + +<p>There was yet another member of this Select Committee, Mr. Michael +Meredith, who might be termed the Man of Mirth, or, if you please, the +Jack Pudding to the company, whose business it was to crack the best +joke, and sing the best song,—he could. Unluckily, however, this +functionary was for the present obliged to absent himself from St. +Ronan's; for, not recollecting that he did not actually wear the +privileged motley of his profession, he had passed some jest upon +Captain MacTurk, which cut so much to the quick, that Mr. Meredith was +fain to go to goat-whey quarters, at some ten miles' distance, and +remain there in a sort of concealment, until the affair should be made +up through the mediation of his brethren of the Committee.</p> + +<p>Such were the honest gentlemen who managed the affairs of this rising +settlement, with as much impartiality as could be expected. They were +not indeed without their own secret predilections; for the lawyer and +the soldier privately inclined to the party of the Squire, while the +parson, Mr. Meredith, and Mr. Winterblossom, were more devoted to the +interests of Lady Penelope; so that Doctor Quackleben alone, who +probably recollected that the gentlemen were as liable to stomach +complaints, as the ladies to nervous disorders, seemed the only person<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_53" id="vol_i_Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> +who preserved in word and deed the most rigid neutrality. Nevertheless, +the interests of the establishment being very much at the heart of this +honourable council, and each feeling his own profit, pleasure, or +comfort, in some degree involved, they suffered not their private<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_54" id="vol_i_Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> +affections to interfere with their public duties, but acted, every one +in his own sphere, for the public benefit of the whole community.</p> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol_i_CHAPTER_IV" id="vol_i_CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV.</h2> + +<h3>THE INVITATION.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thus painters write their names at Co.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="citation"> +<span class="smcap">Prior.</span><br /> +</p> + + +<p>The clamour which attends the removal of dinner from a public room had +subsided; the clatter of plates, and knives and forks—the bustling +tread of awkward boobies of country servants, kicking each other's +shins, and wrangling, as they endeavour to rush out of the door three +abreast—the clash of glasses and tumblers, borne to earth in the +tumult—the shrieks of the landlady—the curses, not loud, but deep, of +the landlord—had all passed away; and those of the company who had +servants, had been accommodated by their respective Ganymedes with such +remnants of their respective bottles of wine, spirits, &c., as the said +Ganymedes had not previously consumed, while the rest, broken in to such +observance by Mr. Winterblossom, waited patiently until the worthy +president's own special and multifarious commissions had been executed +by a tidy young woman and a lumpish lad, the regular attendants +belonging to the house, but whom he permitted to wait on no one, till, +as the hymn says,</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_55" id="vol_i_Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span></p><div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“All his wants were well supplied.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>“And, Dinah—my bottle of pale sherry, Dinah—place it on this +side—there's a good girl;—and, Toby—get my jug with the hot +water—and let it be boiling—and don't spill it on Lady Penelope, if +you can help it, Toby.”</p> + +<p>“No—for her ladyship has been in hot water to-day already,” said the +Squire; a sarcasm to which Lady Penelope only replied with a look of +contempt.</p> + +<p>“And, Dinah, bring the sugar—the soft East India sugar, Dinah—and a +lemon, Dinah, one of those which came fresh to-day—Go fetch it from the +bar, Toby—and don't tumble down stairs, if you can help it.—And, +Dinah—stay, Dinah—the nutmeg, Dinah, and the ginger, my good +girl—And, Dinah—put the cushion up behind my back—and the footstool +to my foot, for my toe is something the worse of my walk with your +ladyship this morning to the top of Belvidere.”</p> + +<p>“Her ladyship may call it what she pleases in common parlance,” said the +writer; “but it must stand Munt-grunzie in the stamped paper, being so +nominated in the ancient writs and evidents thereof.”</p> + +<p>“And, Dinah,” continued the president, “lift up my handkerchief—and—a +bit of biscuit, Dinah—and—and I do not think I want any thing +else—Look to the company, my good girl.—I have the honour to drink the +company's very good health—Will your ladyship honour me by accepting a +glass of negus?—I learned to make negus from old Dartineuf's son.—He +always used East India sugar and added a tama<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_56" id="vol_i_Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span>rind—it improves the +flavour infinitely.—Dinah, see your father sends for some +tamarinds—Dartineuf knew a good thing almost as well as his father—I +met him at Bath in the year—let me see—Garrick was just taking leave, +and that was in,” &c. &c. &c.—“And what is this now, Dinah?” he said, +as she put into his hand a roll of paper.</p> + +<p>“Something that Nelly Trotter” (Trotting Nelly, as the company called +her) “brought from a sketching gentleman that lives at the woman's” +(thus bluntly did the upstart minx describe the reverend Mrs. Margaret +Dods) “at the Cleikum of Aultoun yonder”—A name, by the way, which the +inn had acquired from the use which the saint upon the sign-post was +making of his pastoral crook.</p> + +<p>“Indeed, Dinah?” said Mr. Winterblossom, gravely taking out his +spectacles, and wiping them before he opened the roll of paper; “some +boy's daubing, I suppose, whose pa and ma wish to get him into the +Trustees' School, and so are beating about for a little interest.—But I +am drained dry—I put three lads in last season; and if it had not been +my particular interest with the secretary, who asks my opinion now and +then, I could not have managed it. But giff-gaff, say I.—Eh! What, in +the devil's name, is this?—Here is both force and keeping—Who can this +be, my lady?—Do but see the sky-line—why, this is really a little +bit—an exquisite little bit—Who the devil can it be? and how can he +have stumbled upon the dog-hole in the Old Town, and the snarling b——I +beg your ladyship ten thousand pardons—that kennels there?”</p> + +<p>“I dare say, my lady,” said a little miss of fourteen, <span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_57" id="vol_i_Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span>her eyes growing +rounder and rounder, and her cheeks redder and redder, as she found +herself speaking, and so many folks listening—“O la! I dare say it is +the same gentleman we met one day in the Low-wood walk, that looked like +a gentleman, and yet was none of the company, and that you said was a +handsome man.”</p> + +<p>“I did not say handsome, Maria,” replied her ladyship; “ladies never say +men are handsome—I only said he looked genteel and interesting.”</p> + +<p>“And that, my lady,” said the young parson, bowing and smiling, “is, I +will be judged by the company, the more flattering compliment of the +two—We shall be jealous of this Unknown presently.”</p> + +<p>“Nay, but,” continued the sweetly communicative Maria, with some real +and some assumed simplicity, “your ladyship forgets—for you said +presently after, you were sure he was no gentleman, for he did not run +after you with your glove which you had dropped—and so I went back +myself to find your ladyship's glove, and he never offered to help me, +and I saw him closer than your ladyship did, and I am sure he is +handsome, though he is not very civil.”</p> + +<p>“You speak a little too much and too loud, miss,” said Lady Penelope, a +natural blush reinforcing the <i>nuance</i> of rouge by which it was usually +superseded.</p> + +<p>“What say you to that, Squire Mowbray?” said the elegant Sir Bingo +Binks.</p> + +<p>“A fair challenge to the field, Sir Bingo,” answered the squire; “when a +lady throws down the gauntlet, a gentleman may throw the handkerchief.”</p> + +<p>“I have always the benefit of <i>your</i> best construc<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_58" id="vol_i_Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span>tion, Mr. Mowbray,” +said the lady, with dignity. “I suppose Miss Maria has contrived this +pretty story for your amusement. I can hardly answer to Mr. Digges, for +bringing her into company where she receives encouragement to behave +so.”</p> + +<p>“Nay, nay, my lady,” said the president, “you must let the jest pass by; +and since this is really such an admirable sketch, you must honour us +with your opinion, whether the company can consistently with propriety +make any advances to this man.”</p> + +<p>“In my opinion,” said her ladyship, the angry spot still glowing on her +brow, “there are enough of <i>men</i> among us already—I wish I could say +gentlemen—As matters stand, I see little business <i>ladies</i> can have at +St. Ronan's.”</p> + +<p>This was an intimation which always brought the Squire back to +good-breeding, which he could make use of when he pleased. He deprecated +her ladyship's displeasure, until she told him, in returning good +humour, that she really would not trust him unless he brought his sister +to be security for his future politeness.</p> + +<p>“Clara, my lady,” said Mowbray, “is a little wilful; and I believe your +ladyship must take the task of unharbouring her into your own hands. +What say you to a gipsy party up to my old shop?—It is a bachelor's +house—you must not expect things in much order; but Clara would be +honoured”——</p> + +<p>The Lady Penelope eagerly accepted the proposal of something like a +party, and, quite reconciled with Mowbray, began to enquire whether she +might bring the stranger artist with her; “that is,” said her ladyship, +looking to Dinah, “if he be a gentleman.”</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_59" id="vol_i_Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span></p> +<p>Here Dinah interposed her assurance, “that the gentleman at Meg Dods's +was quite and clean a gentleman, and an illustrated poet besides.”</p> + +<p>“An illustrated poet, Dinah?” said Lady Penelope; “you must mean an +illustrious poet.”</p> + +<p>“I dare to say your ladyship is right,” said Dinah, dropping a curtsy.</p> + +<p>A joyous flutter of impatient anxiety was instantly excited through all +the blue-stocking faction of the company, nor were the news totally +indifferent to the rest of the community. The former belonged to that +class, who, like the young Ascanius, are ever beating about in quest of +a tawny lion, though they are much more successful in now and then +starting a great bore;<a name="vol_i_FNanchor_13_13" id="vol_i_FNanchor_13_13"></a><a href="#vol_i_Footnote_13_13" class="fnanchor">[13]</a> and the others, having left all their own +ordinary affairs and subjects of interest at home, were glad to make a +matter of importance of the most trivial occurrence. A mighty poet, said +the former class—who could it possibly be?—All names were recited—all +Britain scrutinized, from Highland hills to the Lakes of +Cumberland—from Sydenham Common to St. James's Place—even the Banks of +the Bosphorus were explored for some name which might rank under this +distinguished epithet.—And then, besides his illustrious poesy, to +sketch so inimitably!—who <i>could</i> it be? And all the gapers, who had +nothing of their own to suggest, answered with the antistrophe, “Who +could it be?”</p> + +<p>The Claret-Club, which comprised the choicest and firmest adherents of +Squire Mowbray and the Barone<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_60" id="vol_i_Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span>t—men who scorned that the reversion of +one bottle of wine should furnish forth the feast of to-morrow, though +caring nought about either of the fine arts in question, found out an +interest of their own, which centred in the same individual.</p> + +<p>“I say, little Sir Bingo,” said the Squire, “this is the very fellow +that we saw down at the Willow-slack on Saturday—he was tog'd +gnostically enough, and cast twelve yards of line with one hand—the fly +fell like a thistledown on the water.”</p> + +<p>“Uich!” answered the party he addressed, in the accents of a dog choking +in the collar.</p> + +<p>“We saw him pull out the salmon yonder,” said Mowbray; “you +remember—clean fish—the tide-ticks on his gills—weighed, I dare say, +a matter of eighteen pounds.”</p> + +<p>“Sixteen!” replied Sir Bingo, in the same tone of strangulation.</p> + +<p>“None of your rigs, Bing!” said his companion, “—nearer eighteen than +sixteen!”</p> + +<p>“Nearer sixteen, by ——!”</p> + +<p>“Will you go a dozen of blue on it to the company?” said the Squire.</p> + +<p>“No, d—— me!” croaked the Baronet—“to our own set I will.”</p> + +<p>“Then, I say done!” quoth the Squire.</p> + +<p>And “Done!” responded the Knight; and out came their red pocketbooks.</p> + +<p>“But who shall decide the bet?” said the Squire, “The genius himself, I +suppose; they talk of asking him here, but I suppose he will scarce mind +quizzes like them.”</p> + +<p>“Write myself—John Mowbray,” said the Baronet.</p> + +<p>“You, Baronet!—you write!” answered the Squire, “d—— me, that cock +won't fight—you won't.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_61" id="vol_i_Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I will,” growled Sir Bingo, more articulately than usual.</p> + +<p>“Why, you can't!” said Mowbray. “You never wrote a line in your life, +save those you were whipped for at school.”</p> + +<p>“I can write—I will write!” said Sir Bingo. “Two to one I will.”</p> + +<p>And there the affair rested, for the council of the company were in high +consultation concerning the most proper manner of opening a +communication with the mysterious stranger; and the voice of Mr. +Winterblossom, whose tones, originally fine, age had reduced to +falsetto, was calling upon the whole party for “Order, order!” So that +the bucks were obliged to lounge in silence, with both arms reclined on +the table, and testifying, by coughs and yawns, their indifference to +the matters in question, while the rest of the company debated upon +them, as if they were matters of life and death.</p> + +<p>“A visit from one of the gentlemen—Mr. Winterblossom, if he would take +the trouble—in name of the company at large—would, Lady Penelope +Penfeather presumed to think, be a necessary preliminary to an +invitation.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Winterblossom was “quite of her ladyship's opinion, and would gladly +have been the personal representative of the company at St. Ronan's +Well—but it was up hill—her ladyship knew his tyrant, the gout, was +hovering upon the frontiers—there were other gentlemen, younger and +more worthy to fly at the lady's command than an ancient Vulcan like +him—there was the valiant Mars and the eloquent Mercury.”</p> + +<p>Thus speaking, he bowed to Captain MacTurk and the Rev. Mr. Simon<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_62" id="vol_i_Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> +Chatterly, and reclined on his chair, sipping his negus with the +self-satisfied smile of one, who, by a pretty speech, has rid himself +of a troublesome commission. At the same time, by an act probably of +mental absence, he put in his pocket the drawing, which, after +circulating around the table, had returned back to the chair of the +president, being the point from which it had set out.</p> + +<p>“By Cot, madam,” said Captain MacTurk, “I should be proud to obey your +leddyship's commands—but, by Cot, I never call first on any man that +never called upon me at all, unless it were to carry him a friend's +message, or such like.”</p> + +<p>“Twig the old connoisseur,” said the Squire to the Knight.—“He is +condiddling the drawing.”</p> + +<p>“Go it, Johnnie Mowbray—pour it into him,” whispered Sir Bingo.</p> + +<p>“Thank ye for nothing, Sir Bingo,” said the Squire, in the same tone. +“Winterblossom is one of us—<i>was</i> one of us at least—and won't stand +the ironing. He has his Wogdens still, that were right things in his +day, and can hit the hay-stack with the best of us—but stay, they are +hallooing on the parson.”</p> + +<p>They were indeed busied on all hands, to obtain Mr. Chatterly's consent +to wait on the Genius unknown; but though he smiled and simpered, and +was absolutely incapable of saying No, he begged leave, in all humility, +to decline that commission. “The truth was,” he pleaded in his excuse, +“that having one day walked to visit the old Castle of St. Ronan's, and +returning through the Auld Town, as it was popularly called, he had +stopped at the door of the <i>Cleikum</i>,” (pronounced <i>Anglicé</i>,<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_63" id="vol_i_Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> with the +open diphthong,) “in hopes to get a glass of syrup of capillaire, or a +draught of something cooling; and had in fact expressed his wishes, and +was knocking pretty loudly, when a sash-window was thrown suddenly up, +and ere he was aware what was about to happen, he was soused with a +deluge of water,” (as he said,) “while the voice of an old hag from +within assured him, that if that did not cool him there was another +biding him,—an intimation which induced him to retreat in all haste +from the repetition of the shower-bath.”</p> + +<p>All laughed at the account of the chaplain's misfortune, the history of +which seemed to be wrung from him reluctantly, by the necessity of +assigning some weighty cause for declining to execute the ladies' +commands. But the Squire and Baronet continued their mirth far longer +than decorum allowed, flinging themselves back in their chairs, with +their hands thrust into their side-pockets, and their mouths expanded +with unrestrained enjoyment, until the sufferer, angry, disconcerted, +and endeavouring to look scornful, incurred another general burst of +laughter on all hands.</p> + +<p>When Mr. Winterblossom had succeeded in restoring some degree of order, +he found the mishaps of the young divine proved as intimidating as +ludicrous. Not one of the company chose to go Envoy Extraordinary to the +dominions of Queen Meg, who might be suspected of paying little respect +to the sanctity of an ambassador's person. And what was worse, when it +was resolved that a civil card from Mr. Winterblossom, in the name of +the company, should be sent to the stranger, instead of a personal +visit, Dinah informed them that s<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_64" id="vol_i_Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span>he was sure no one about the house +could be bribed to carry up a letter of the kind; for, when such an +event had taken place two summers since, Meg, who construed it into an +attempt to seduce from her tenement the invited guest, had so handled a +ploughboy who carried the letter, that he fled the country-side +altogether, and never thought himself safe till he was at a village ten +miles off, where it was afterwards learned he enlisted with a recruiting +party, choosing rather to face the French than to return within the +sphere of Meg's displeasure.</p> + +<p>Just while they were agitating this new difficulty, a prodigious clamour +was heard without, which, to the first apprehensions of the company, +seemed to be Meg, in all her terrors, come to anticipate the proposed +invasion. Upon enquiry, however, it proved to be her gossip, Trotting +Nelly, or Nelly Trotter, in the act of forcing her way up stairs, +against the united strength of the whole household of the hotel, to +reclaim Luckie Dods's picture, as she called it. This made the +connoisseur's treasure tremble in his pocket, who, thrusting a +half-crown into Toby's hand, exhorted him to give it her, and try his +influence in keeping her back. Toby, who knew Nelly's nature, put the +half-crown into his own pocket, and snatched up a gill-stoup of whisky +from the sideboard. Thus armed, he boldly confronted the virago, and +interposing a <i>remora</i>, which was able to check poor Nelly's course in +her most determined moods, not only succeeded in averting the immediate +storm which approached the company in general, and Mr. Winterblossom in +particular, but brought the guests the satisfactory informatio<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_65" id="vol_i_Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span>n, that +Trotting Nelly had agreed, after she had slept out her nap in the barn, +to convey their commands to the Unknown of Cleikum of Aultoun.</p> + +<p>Mr. Winterblossom, therefore, having authenticated his proceedings, by +inserting in the Minutes of the Committee, the authority which he had +received, wrote his card in the best style of diplomacy, and sealed it +with the seal of the Spa, which bore something like a nymph, seated +beside what was designed to represent an urn.</p> + +<p>The rival factions, however, did not trust entirely to this official +invitation. Lady Penelope was of opinion that they should find some way +of letting the stranger—a man of talent unquestionably—understand that +there were in the society to which he was invited, spirits of a more +select sort, who felt worthy to intrude themselves on his solitude.</p> + +<p>Accordingly, her ladyship imposed upon the elegant Mr. Chatterly the +task of expressing the desire of the company to see the unknown artist, +in a neat occasional copy of verses. The poor gentleman's muse, however, +proved unpropitious; for he was able to proceed no farther than two +lines in half an hour, which, coupled with its variations, we insert +from the blotted manuscript, as Dr. Johnson has printed the alterations +in Pope's version of the Iliad:</p> + + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align='left'>1. <i>Maids.</i> 2. <i>Dames.</i></td><td align='right'>unity joining.</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left' colspan='2'>The [nymphs] of St. Ronan's [in purpose combining]</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left' colspan='2'>1. <i>Swain.</i> 2. <i>Man.</i></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left' colspan='2'>To the [youth] who is great both in verse and designing,</td></tr> +<tr><td> </td><td align='right'>......... dining.</td></tr> +</table></div> + + +<p>The eloquence of a prose billet was necessarily resorted<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_66" id="vol_i_Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> to in the +absence of the heavenly muse, and the said billet was secretly intrusted +to the care of Trotting Nelly. The same trusty emissary, when refreshed +by her nap among the pease-straw, and about to harness her cart for her +return to the seacoast, (in the course of which she was to pass the +Aultoun,) received another card, written, as he had threatened, by Sir +Bingo Binks himself, who had given himself this trouble to secure the +settlement of the bet; conjecturing that a man with a fashionable +exterior, who could throw twelve yards of line at a cast with such +precision, might consider the invitation of Winterblossom as that of an +old twaddler, and care as little for the good graces of an affected +blue-stocking and her <i>côterie</i>, whose conversation, in Sir Bingo's +mind, relished of nothing but of weak tea and bread and butt<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_67" id="vol_i_Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span>er. Thus the +happy Mr. Francis Tyrrel received, considerably to his surprise, no less +than three invitations at once from the Well of St. Ronan's.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol_i_CHAPTER_V" id="vol_i_CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V.</h2> + +<h3>EPISTOLARY ELOQUENCE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But how can I answer, since first I must read thee?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="citation"> +<span class="smcap">Prior</span>.<br /> +</p> + + +<p>Desirous of authenticating our more important facts, by as many original +documents as possible, we have, after much research, enabled ourselves +to present the reader with the following accurate transcripts of the +notes intrusted to the care of Trotting Nelly. The first ran thus:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>“Mr. Winterblossom [of Silverhed] has the commands of Lady Penelope +Penfeather, Sir Bingo and Lady Binks, Mr. and Miss Mowbray [of St. +Ronan's], and the rest of the company at the Hotel and Tontine Inn +of St. Ronan's Well, to express their hope that the gentleman +lodged at the Cleikum Inn, Old Town of St. Ronan's, will favour +them with his company at the Ordinary, as early and as often as may +suit his convenience. The <span class="smcap">Company</span> think it necessary to send this +intimation, because, according to the <span class="smcap">Rules</span> of the place, the +Ordinary can only be attended by such gentlemen and ladies as lodge +at St. Ronan's Well; but they are happy to make a distinction in +favour of a gentleman so distinguished for success in the fine arts +as Mr. —— ——,<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_68" id="vol_i_Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> residing at Cleikum. If Mr. —— —— should be +inclined, upon becoming further acquainted with the <span class="smcap">Company</span> and +<span class="smcap">Rules</span> of the Place, to remove his residence to the Well, Mr. +Winterblossom, though he would not be understood to commit himself +by a positive assurance to that effect, is inclined to hope that an +arrangement might be made, notwithstanding the extreme crowd of the +season, to accommodate Mr. —— —— at the lodging-house, called +Lilliput-Hall. It will much conduce to facilitate this negotiation, +if Mr. —— —— would have the goodness to send an exact note of +his stature, as Captain Rannletree seems disposed to resign the +folding-bed at Lilliput-Hall, on account of his finding it rather +deficient in length. Mr. Winterblossom begs farther to assure Mr. +—— —— of the esteem in which he holds his genius, and of his +high personal consideration.</p> + +<p style="text-align: right;"> +“For —— ——, Esquire,<br /> +Cleikum Inn, Old Town of St. Ronan's.<br /></p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">“<i>The Public Rooms,</i><br /></span> +<i>Hotel and Tontine, St. Ronan's Well,</i><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;"><i>&c. &c. &c.</i>”<br /></span> +</p> +</div> + +<p>The above card was written (we love to be precise in matters concerning +orthography) in a neat, round, clerk-like hand, which, like Mr. +Winterblossom's character, in many particulars was most accurate and +commonplace, though betraying an affectation both of flourish and of +facility.</p> + +<p>The next billet was a contrast to the diplomatic gravity and accuracy of +Mr. Winterblossom's official communication, and ran thus, the young +divine's academic jests and classical flowers of eloquence being mingled +with some wild flowers from the teeming fancy of Lady Penelope.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_69" id="vol_i_Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span></p><div class="blockquot"><p>“A choir of Dryads and Naiads, assembled at the healing spring of +St. Ronan's, have learned with surprise that a youth, gifted by +Apollo, when the Deity was prodigal, with two of his most esteemed +endowments, wanders at will among their domains, frequenting grove +and river, without once dreaming of paying homage to its tutelary +deities. He is, therefore, summoned to their presence, and prompt +obedience will insure him forgiveness; but in case of contumacy, +let him beware how he again essays either the lyre or the pallet.</p> + +<p>“<i>Postscript.</i> The adorable Penelope, long enrolled among the +Goddesses for her beauty and virtues, gives Nectar and Ambrosia, +which mortals call tea and cake, at the Public Rooms, near the +Sacred Spring, on Thursday evening, at eight o'clock, when the +Muses never fail to attend. The stranger's presence is requested to +participate in the delights of the evening.</p> + +<p>“<i>Second Postscript.</i> A shepherd, ambitiously aiming at more +accommodation than his narrow cot affords, leaves it in a day or +two.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">‘Assuredly the thing is to be hired.’<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 12em;"><i>As You Like It.</i><br /></span> +</p> + +<p>“<i>Postscript third.</i> Our Iris, whom mortals know as Trotting Nelly +in her tartan cloak, will bring us the stranger's answer to our +celestial summons.”</p></div> + +<p>This letter was written in a delicate Italian hand, garnished with fine +hair-strokes and dashes, which were sometimes so dexterously thrown off +as to represent lyres, pallets, vases, and other appropriate +decorations, suited to the tenor of the contents.</p> + +<p>The third epistle was a complete contrast to the other two. It was +written in a coarse, irregular, schoolboy half-text, which, however, +seemed to h<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_70" id="vol_i_Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span>ave cost the writer as much pains as if it had been a +specimen of the most exquisite caligraphy. And these were the +contents:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>“<span class="smcap">Sur</span>—Jack Moobray has betted with me that the samon you killed on +Saturday last weyd ni to eiteen pounds,—I say nyer sixteen.—So +you being a spurtsman, 'tis refer'd.—So hope you will come or send +me't; do not doubt you will be on honour. The bet is a dozen of +claret, to be drank at the hotel by our own sett, on Monday next; +and we beg you will make one; and Moobray hopes you will come +down.—Being, sir, your most humbel servant,—Bingo Binks Baronet, +and of Block-hall.</p> + +<p>“<i>Postscript.</i> Have sent some loops of Indian gout, also some black +hakkels of my groom's dressing; hope they will prove killing, as +suiting river and season.”</p></div> + +<p>No answer was received to any of these invitations for more than three +days; which, while it secretly rather added to than diminished the +curiosity of the Wellers concerning the Unknown, occasioned much railing +in public against him, as ill-mannered and rude.</p> + +<p>Meantime, Francis Tyrrel, to his great surprise, began to find, like the +philosophers, that he was never less alone than when alone. In the most +silent and sequestered walks, to which the present state of his mind +induced him to betake himself, he was sure to find some strollers from +the Well, to whom he had become the object of so much solicitous +interest. Quite innocent of the knowledge that he himself possessed the +attraction which occasioned his meeting them so frequently, he began to +doubt whether the Lady Penelope and her maidens—Mr. Winterblossom and +his grey pony—the parson and his short black coat and raven-grey +pantaloons—were not eithe<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_71" id="vol_i_Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span>r actually polygraphic copies of the same +individuals, or possessed of a celerity of motion resembling +omnipresence and ubiquity; for nowhere could he go without meeting +them, and that oftener than once a-day, in the course of his walks. +Sometimes the presence of the sweet Lycoris was intimated by the sweet +prattle in an adjacent shade; sometimes, when Tyrrel thought himself +most solitary, the parson's flute was heard snoring forth Gramachree +Molly; and if he betook himself to the river, he was pretty sure to find +his sport watched by Sir Bingo or some of his friends.</p> + +<p>The efforts which Tyrrel made to escape from this persecution, and the +impatience of it which his manner indicated, procured him, among the +Wellers, the name of the <i>Misanthrope</i>; and, once distinguished as an +object of curiosity, he was the person most attended to, who could at +the ordinary of the day give the most accurate account of where the +Misanthrope had been, and how occupied in the course of the morning. And +so far was Tyrrel's shyness from diminishing the desire of the Wellers +for his society, that the latter feeling increased with the difficulty +of gratification,—as the angler feels the most peculiar interest when +throwing his fly for the most cunning and considerate trout in the pool.</p> + +<p>In short, such was the interest which the excited imaginations of the +company took in the Misanthrope, that, notwithstanding the unamiable +qualities which the word expresses, there was only one of the society +who did not desire to see the specimen at their rooms, for the purpose +of examining him closely and at leisure; and the ladies were +particularly desirous to enquire whether he was actually a Misanthrope? +Whether he had been <span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_72" id="vol_i_Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span>always a Misanthrope? What had induced him to become +a Misanthrope? And whether there were no means of inducing him to cease +to be a Misanthrope?</p> + +<p>One individual only, as we have said, neither desired to see nor hear +more of the supposed Timon of Cleikum, and that was Mr. Mowbray of St. +Ronan's. Through the medium of that venerable character John Pirner, +professed weaver and practical black-fisher in the Aultoun of St. +Ronan's, who usually attended Tyrrel, to show him the casts of the +river, carry his bag, and so forth, the Squire had ascertained that the +judgment of Sir Bingo regarding the disputed weight of the fish was more +correct than his own. This inferred an immediate loss of honour, besides +the payment of a heavy bill. And the consequences might be yet more +serious; nothing short of the emancipation of Sir Bingo, who had +hitherto been Mowbray's convenient shadow and adherent, but who, if +triumphant, confiding in his superiority of judgment upon so important a +point, might either cut him altogether, or expect that, in future, the +Squire, who had long seemed the planet of their set, should be content +to roll around himself, Sir Bingo, in the capacity of a satellite.</p> + +<p>The Squire, therefore, devoutly hoped that Tyrrel's restive disposition +might continue, to prevent the decision of the bet, while, at the same +time, he nourished a very reasonable degree of dislike to that stranger, +who had been the indirect occasion of the unpleasant predicament in +which he found himself, by not catching a salmon weighing a pound +heavier. He, therefore, openly censured the meanness of those who +proposed taking further notice of Tyrrel, and referred to the unanswered +letters, as a piece of impertinence which announced him to be no +gentleman.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_73" id="vol_i_Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span></p> +<p>But though appearances were against him, and though he was in truth +naturally inclined to solitude, and averse to the affectation and +bustle of such a society, that part of Tyrrel's behaviour which +indicated ill-breeding was easily accounted for, by his never having +received the letters which required an answer. Trotting Nelly, whether +unwilling to face her gossip, Meg Dods, without bringing back the +drawing, or whether oblivious through the influence of the double dram +with which she had been indulged at the Well, jumbled off with her cart +to her beloved village of Scate-raw, from which she transmitted the +letters by the first bare-legged gillie who travelled towards Aultoun of +St. Ronan's; so that at last, but after a long delay, they reached the +Cleikum Inn and the hands of Mr. Tyrrel.</p> + +<p>The arrival of these documents explained some part of the oddity of +behaviour which had surprised him in his neighbours of the Well; and as +he saw they had got somehow an idea of his being a lion extraordinary, +and was sensible that such is a character equally ridiculous, and +difficult to support, he hastened to write to Mr. Winterblossom a card +in the style of ordinary mortals. In this he stated the delay occasioned +by miscarriage of the letter, and his regret on that account; expressed +his intention of dining with the company at the Well on the succeeding +day, while he regretted that other circumstances, as well as the state +of his health and spirits, would permit him this honour very +infrequently during his stay in the country, and begged no trouble might +be taken about his accommodation at the Well, as he was perfectly +satisfied with his present residence. A separate note to Sir Bingo, said +he was ha<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_74" id="vol_i_Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span>ppy he could verify the weight of the fish, which he had noted +in his diary; (“D—n the fellow, does he keep a diary?” said the +Baronet,) and though the result could only be particularly agreeable to +one party, he should wish both winner and loser mirth with their +wine;—he was sorry he was unable to promise himself the pleasure of +participating in either. Enclosed was a signed note of the weight of the +fish. Armed with this, Sir Bingo claimed his wine—triumphed in his +judgment—swore louder and more articulately than ever he was known to +utter any previous sounds, that this Tyrrel was a devilish honest +fellow, and he trusted to be better acquainted with him; while the +crestfallen Squire, privately cursing the stranger by all his gods, had +no mode of silencing his companion but by allowing his loss, and fixing +a day for discussing the bet.</p> + +<p>In the public rooms the company examined even microscopically the +response of the stranger to Mr. Winterblossom, straining their ingenuity +to discover, in the most ordinary expressions, a deeper and esoteric +meaning, expressive of something mysterious, and not meant to meet the +eye. Mr. Meiklewham, the writer, dwelt on the word <i>circumstances</i>, +which he read with peculiar emphasis.</p> + +<p>“Ah, poor lad!” he concluded, “I doubt he sits cheaper at Meg Dorts's +chimney-corner than he could do with the present company.”</p> + +<p>Doctor Quackleben, in the manner of a clergyman selecting a word from +his text, as that which is to be particularly insisted upon, repeated in +an under tone, the words, “<i>State of health?</i>—umph—state of +health?—Nothing acute—no one has been sent for—must be +chronic—tending to gout, pe<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_75" id="vol_i_Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span>rhaps.—Or his shyness to society—light +wild eye—irregular step—starting when met suddenly by a stranger, and +turning abruptly and angrily away—Pray, Mr. Winterblossom, let me have +an order to look over the file of newspapers—it's very troublesome that +restriction about consulting them.”</p> + +<p>“You know it is a necessary one, Doctor,” said the president; “because +so few of the good company read any thing else, that the old newspapers +would have been worn to pieces long since.”</p> + +<p>“Well, well, let me have the order,” said the Doctor; “I remember +something of a gentleman run away from his friends—I must look at the +description.—I believe I have a strait-jacket somewhere about the +Dispensary.”</p> + +<p>While this suggestion appalled the male part of the company, who did not +much relish the approaching dinner in company with a gentleman whose +situation seemed so precarious, some of the younger Misses whispered to +each other—“Ah, poor fellow!—and if it be as the Doctor supposes, my +lady, who knows what the cause of his illness may have been?—His +<i>spirits</i> he complains of—ah, poor man!”</p> + +<p>And thus, by the ingenious commentaries of the company at the Well, on +as plain a note as ever covered the eighth part of a sheet of foolscap, +the writer was deprived of his property, his reason, and his heart, “all +or either, or one or other of them,” as is briefly and distinctly +expressed in the law phrase.</p> + +<p>In short, so much was said <i>pro</i> and <i>con</i>, so many ideas started and +theories maintained, concerning the disposition and character of the +Misanthrope, that<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_76" id="vol_i_Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span>, when the company assembled at the usual time, before +proceeding to dinner, they doubted, as it seemed, whether the expected +addition to their society was to enter the room on his hands or his +feet; and when “Mr. Tyrrel” was announced by Toby, at the top of his +voice, the gentleman who entered the room had so very little to +distinguish him from others, that there was a momentary disappointment. +The ladies, in particular, began to doubt whether the compound of +talent, misanthropy, madness, and mental sensibility, which they had +pictured to themselves, actually was the same with the genteel, and even +fashionable-looking man whom they saw before them; who, though in a +morning-dress, which the distance of his residence, and the freedom of +the place, made excusable, had, even in the minute points of his +exterior, none of the negligence, or wildness, which might be supposed +to attach to the vestments of a misanthropic recluse, whether sane or +insane. As he paid his compliments round the circle, the scales seemed +to fall from the eyes of those he spoke to; and they saw with surprise, +that the exaggerations had existed entirely in their own preconceptions, +and that whatever the fortunes, or rank in life, of Mr. Tyrrel might be, +his manners, without being showy, were gentlemanlike and pleasing. He +returned his thanks to Mr. Winterblossom in a manner which made that +gentleman recall his best breeding to answer the stranger's address in +kind. He then escaped from the awkwardness of remaining the sole object +of attention, by gliding gradually among the company,—not like an owl, +which seeks to hide itself in a thicket, or an awkward and retired man, +shrinking from the society into which he is compelled, bu<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_77" id="vol_i_Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span>t with the air +of one who could maintain with ease his part in a higher circle. His +address to Lady Penelope was adapted to the romantic tone of Mr. +Chatterly's epistle, to which it was necessary to allude. He was afraid, +he said, he must complain to Juno of the neglect of Iris, for her +irregularity in delivery of a certain ethereal command, which he had not +dared to answer otherwise than by mute obedience—unless, indeed, as the +import of the letter seemed to infer, the invitation was designed for +some more gifted individual than he to whom chance had assigned it.</p> + +<p>Lady Penelope by her lips, and many of the young ladies with their eyes, +assured him there was no mistake in the matter; that he was really the +gifted person whom the nymphs had summoned to their presence, and that +they were well acquainted with his talents as a poet and a painter. +Tyrrel disclaimed, with earnestness and gravity, the charge of poetry, +and professed, that, far from attempting the art itself, he “read with +reluctance all but the productions of the very first-rate poets, and +some of these—he was almost afraid to say—he should have liked better +in humble prose.”</p> + +<p>“You have now only to disown your skill as an artist,” said Lady +Penelope, “and we must consider Mr. Tyrrel as the falsest and most +deceitful of his sex, who has a mind to deprive us of the opportunity of +benefiting by the productions of his unparalleled endowments. I assure +you I shall put my young friends on their guard. Such dissimulation +cannot be without its object.”</p> + +<p>“And I,” said Mr. Winterblossom, “can produce a piece of real evidence +against the culprit.”</p> + +<p>So saying, he unrolled the sketch which he had filched from T<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_78" id="vol_i_Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span>rotting +Nelly, and which he had pared and pasted, (arts in which he was +eminent,) so as to take out its creases, repair its breaches, and vamp +it as well as my old friend Mrs. Weir could have repaired the damages of +time on a folio Shakspeare.</p> + +<p>“The vara <i>corpus delicti</i>,” said the writer, grinning and rubbing his +hands.</p> + +<p>“If you are so good as to call such scratches drawings,” said Tyrrel, “I +must stand so far confessed. I used to do them for my own amusement; but +since my landlady, Mrs. Dods, has of late discovered that I gain my +livelihood by them, why should I disown it?”</p> + +<p>This avowal, made without the least appearance either of shame or +<i>retenue</i>, seemed to have a striking effect on the whole society. The +president's trembling hand stole the sketch back to the portfolio, +afraid doubtless it might be claimed in form, or else compensation +expected by the artist. Lady Penelope was disconcerted, like an awkward +horse when it changes the leading foot in galloping. She had to recede +from the respectful and easy footing on which he had contrived to place +himself, to one which might express patronage on her own part, and +dependence on Tyrrel's; and this could not be done in a moment.</p> + +<p>The Man of Law murmured, “Circumstances—circumstances—I thought so!”</p> + +<p>Sir Bingo whispered to his friend the Squire, “Run out—blown up—off +the course—pity—d——d pretty fellow he has been!”</p> + +<p>“A raff from the beginning!” whispered Mowbray.—“I never thought him +any thing else.”</p> + +<p>“I'll hold ye a poney of that, my dear, and I'll ask him.”</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_79" id="vol_i_Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span></p> +<p>“Done, for a poney, provided you ask him in ten minutes,” said the +Squire; “but you dare not, Bingie—he has a d——d cross game look, +with all that civil chaff of his.”</p> + +<p>“Done,” said Sir Bingo, but in a less confident tone than before, and +with a determination to proceed with some caution in the matter.—“I +have got a rouleau above, and Winterblossom shall hold stakes.”</p> + +<p>“I have no rouleau,” said the Squire; “but I'll fly a cheque on +Meiklewham.”</p> + +<p>“See it be better than your last,” said Sir Bingo, “for I won't be +skylarked again. Jack, my boy, you are had.”</p> + +<p>“Not till the bet's won; and I shall see yon walking dandy break your +head, Bingie, before that,” answered Mowbray. “Best speak to the Captain +before hand—it is a hellish scrape you are running into—I'll let you +off yet, Bingie, for a guinea forfeit.—See, I am just going to start +the tattler.”</p> + +<p>“Start, and be d——d!” said Sir Bingo. “You are gotten, I assure you o' +that, Jack.” And with a bow and a shuffle, he went up and introduced +himself to the stranger as Sir Bingo Binks.</p> + +<p>“Had—honour—write—sir,” were the only sounds which his throat, or +rather his cravat, seemed to send forth.</p> + +<p>“Confound the booby!” thought Mowbray; “he will get out of leading +strings, if he goes on at this rate; and doubly confounded be this +cursed tramper, who, the Lord knows why, has come hither from the Lord +knows where, to drive the pigs through my game.”</p> + +<p>In the<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_80" id="vol_i_Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> meantime, while his friend stood with his stop-watch in his hand, +with a visage lengthened under the influence of these reflections, Sir +Bingo, with an instinctive tact, which self-preservation seemed to +dictate to a brain neither the most delicate nor subtle in the world, +premised his enquiry by some general remark on fishing and field-sports. +With all these, he found Tyrrel more than passably acquainted. Of +fishing and shooting, particularly, he spoke with something like +enthusiasm; so that Sir Bingo began to hold him in considerable respect, +and to assure himself that he could not be, or at least could not +originally have been bred, the itinerant artist which he now gave +himself out—and this, with the fast lapse of the time, induced him thus +to address Tyrrel.—“I say, Mr. Tyrrel—why, you have been one of us—I +say”——</p> + +<p>“If you mean a sportsman, Sir Bingo—I have been, and am a pretty keen +one still,” replied Tyrrel.</p> + +<p>“Why, then, you did not always do them sort of things?”</p> + +<p>“What sort of things do you mean, Sir Bingo?” said Tyrrel. “I have not +the pleasure of understanding you.”</p> + +<p>“Why, I mean them sketches,” said Sir Bingo. “I'll give you a handsome +order for them, if you will tell me. I will, on my honour.”</p> + +<p>“Does it concern you particularly, Sir Bingo, to know any thing of my +affairs?” said Tyrrel.</p> + +<p>“No—certainly—not immediately,” answered Sir Bingo, with some +hesitation, for he liked not the dry tone in which Tyrrel's answers were +returned, half so well as a bumper of dry sherry; “only I said you were +a d——d gnostic fellow, and I laid a bet you have not been always +professional—that's all.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_81" id="vol_i_Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mr. Tyrrel replied, “A bet with Mr. Mowbray, I suppose?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, with Jack,” replied the Baronet—“you have hit it—I hope I have +done him?”</p> + +<p>Tyrrel bent his brows, and looked first at Mr. Mowbray, then at the +Baronet, and, after a moment's thought, addressed the latter.—“Sir +Bingo Binks, you are a gentleman of elegant enquiry and acute +judgment.—You are perfectly right—I was <i>not</i> bred to the profession +of an artist, nor did I practise it formerly, whatever I may do now; and +so that question is answered.”</p> + +<p>“And Jack is diddled,” said the Baronet, smiting his thigh in triumph, +and turning towards the Squire and the stake-holder, with a smile of +exultation.</p> + +<p>“Stop a single moment, Sir Bingo,” said Tyrrel; “take one word with you. +I have a great respect for bets,—it is part of an Englishman's +character to bet on what he thinks fit, and to prosecute his enquiries +over hedge and ditch, as if he were steeple-hunting. But as I have +satisfied you on the subject of two bets, that is sufficient compliance +with the custom of the country; and therefore I request, Sir Bingo, you +will not make me or my affairs the subject of any more wagers.”</p> + +<p>“I'll be d——d if I do,” was the internal resolution of Sir Bingo. +Aloud he muttered some apologies, and w<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_82" id="vol_i_Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span>as heartily glad that the +dinner-bell, sounding at the moment, afforded him an apology for +shuffling off in a different direction.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol_i_CHAPTER_VI" id="vol_i_CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.</h2> + +<h3>TABLE-TALK.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">And, sir, if these accounts be true,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Dutch have mighty things in view;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The Austrians—I admire French beans,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Dear ma'am, above all other greens.<br /></span> +<span class="i0"> * * * * *</span> +<span class="i0">And all as lively and as brisk<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As—Ma'am, d'ye choose a game at whisk?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="citation"> +<i>Table-Talk.</i><br /> +</p> + + +<p>When they were about to leave the room, Lady Penelope assumed Tyrrel's +arm with a sweet smile of condescension, meant to make the honoured +party understand in its full extent the favour conferred. But the +unreasonable artist, far from intimating the least confusion at an +attention so little to be expected, seemed to consider the distinction +as one which was naturally paid to the greatest stranger present; and +when he placed Lady Penelope at the head of the table, by Mr. +Winterblossom the president, and took a chair for himself betwixt her +ladyship and Lady Binks, the provoking wretch appeared no more sensible +of being exalted above his proper rank in society, than if he had been +sitting at the bottom of the table by honest Mrs. Blower from the +Bow-head, who had come to the Well to carry off the dregs of the +<i>Inflienzie</i>, which she scorned to term a surfeit.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_83" id="vol_i_Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span></p> +<p>Now this indifference puzzled Lady Penelope's game extremely, and +irritated her desire to get at the bottom of Tyrrel's mystery, if there +was one, and secure him to her own party. If you were ever at a +watering-place, reader, you know that while the guests do not always pay +the most polite attention to unmarked individuals, the appearance of a +stray lion makes an interest as strong as it is reasonable, and the +Amazonian chiefs of each coterie, like the hunters of Buenos-Ayres, +prepare their <i>lasso</i>, and manœuvre to the best advantage they can, +each hoping to noose the unsuspicious monster, and lead him captive to +her own menagerie. A few words concerning Lady Penelope Penfeather will +explain why she practised this sport with even more than common zeal.</p> + +<p>She was the daughter of an earl, possessed a showy person, and features +which might be called handsome in youth, though now rather too much +<i>prononcés</i> to render the term proper. The nose was become sharper; the +cheeks had lost the roundness of youth; and as, during fifteen years +that she had reigned a beauty and a ruling toast, the right man had not +spoken, or, at least, had not spoken at the right time, her ladyship, +now rendered sufficiently independent by the inheritance of an old +relation, spoke in praise of friendship, began to dislike the town in +summer, and to “babble of green fields.”</p> + +<p>About the time Lady Penelope thus changed the tenor of her life, she was +fortunate enough, with Dr. Quackleben's assistance, to find out the +virtues of St Ronan's spring; and having contributed her share to +establish the <i>urbs in rure</i>, which had risen around it, she sat herself +down as leader of the fas<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_84" id="vol_i_Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span>hions in the little province which she had in a +great measure both discovered and colonized. She was, therefore, justly +desirous to compel homage and tribute from all who should approach the +territory.</p> + +<p>In other respects, Lady Penelope pretty much resembled the numerous +class she belonged to. She was at bottom a well-principled woman, but +too thoughtless to let her principles control her humour, therefore not +scrupulously nice in her society. She was good-natured, but capricious +and whimsical, and willing enough to be kind or generous, if it neither +thwarted her humour, nor cost her much trouble; would have chaperoned a +young friend any where, and moved the world for subscription tickets; +but never troubled herself how much her giddy charge flirted, or with +whom; so that, with a numerous class of Misses, her ladyship was the +most delightful creature in the world. Then Lady Penelope had lived so +much in society, knew so exactly when to speak, and how to escape from +an embarrassing discussion by professing ignorance, while she looked +intelligence, that she was not generally discovered to be a fool, unless +when she set up for being remarkably clever. This happened more +frequently of late, when, perhaps, as she could not but observe that the +repairs of the toilet became more necessary, she might suppose that new +lights, according to the poet, were streaming on her mind through the +chinks that Time was making. Many of her friends, however, thought that +Lady Penelope would have better consulted her genius by remaining in +mediocrity, as a fashionable and well-bred woman, than by parading her +new-founded pretensions to taste and patronage; but such was not her own +opinion, and doubtless, her ladyship was th<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_85" id="vol_i_Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span>e best judge.</p> + +<p>On the other side of Tyrrel sat Lady Binks, lately the beautiful Miss +Bonnyrigg, who, during the last season, had made the company at the Well +alternately admire, smile, and stare, by dancing the highest Highland +fling, riding the wildest pony, laughing the loudest laugh at the +broadest joke, and wearing the briefest petticoat of any nymph of St. +Ronan's. Few knew that this wild, hoydenish, half-mad humour, was only +superinduced over her real character, for the purpose of—getting well +married. She had fixed her eyes on Sir Bingo, and was aware of his +maxim, that to catch him, “a girl must be,” in his own phrase, “bang up +to every thing;” and that he would choose a wife for the neck-or-nothing +qualities which recommend a good hunter. She made out her catch-match, +and she was miserable. Her wild good-humour was entirely an assumed part +of her character, which was passionate, ambitious, and thoughtful. +Delicacy she had none—she knew Sir Bingo was a brute and a fool, even +while she was hunting him down; but she had so far mistaken her own +feelings, as not to have expected that when she became bone of his bone, +she should feel so much shame and anger when she saw his folly expose +him to be laughed at and plundered, or so disgusted when his brutality +became intimately connected with herself. It is true, he was on the +whole rather an innocent monster; and between bitting and bridling, +coaxing and humouring, might have been made to pad on well enough. But +an unhappy boggling which had taken place previous to the declaration of +their private marriage, had so exasperated her spirits against her +helpmate, that modes of conciliation were the last<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_86" id="vol_i_Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> she was likely to +adopt. Not only had the assistance of the Scottish Themis, so +propitiously indulgent to the foibles of the fair, been resorted to on +the occasion, but even Mars seemed ready to enter upon the tapis, if +Hymen had not intervened. There was, <i>de par le monde</i>, a certain +brother of the lady—an officer—and, as it happened, on leave of +absence,—who alighted from a hack-chaise at the Fox Hotel, at eleven +o'clock at night, holding in his hand a slip of well-dried oak, +accompanied by another gentleman, who, like himself, wore a military +travelling-cap and a black stock; out of the said chaise, as was +reported by the trusty Toby, was handed a small reise-sac, an Andrew +Ferrara, and a neat mahogany box, eighteen inches long, three deep, and +some six broad. Next morning a solemn <i>palaver</i> (as the natives of +Madagascar call their national convention) was held at an unusual hour, +at which Captain MacTurk and Mr. Mowbray assisted; and the upshot was, +that at breakfast the company were made happy by the information, that +Sir Bingo had been for some weeks the happy bridegroom of their general +favourite; which union, concealed for family reasons, he was now at +liberty to acknowledge, and to fly with the wings of love to bring his +sorrowing turtle from the shades to which she had retired, till the +obstacles to their mutual happiness could be removed. Now, though all +this sounded very smoothly, that gall-less turtle, Lady Binks, could +never think of the tenor of the proceedings without the deepest feelings +of resentment and contempt for the principal actor, Sir Bingo.</p> + +<p>Besides all these unpleasant circumstances, Sir Bingo's family had +refused to countenance her wish that he s<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_87" id="vol_i_Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span>hould bring her to his own +seat; and hence a new shock to her pride, and new matter of contempt +against poor Sir Bingo, for being ashamed and afraid to face down the +opposition of his kins-folk, for whose displeasure, though never +attending to any good advice from them, he retained a childish awe.</p> + +<p>The manners of the young lady were no less changed than was her temper; +and, from being much too careless and free, were become reserved, +sullen, and haughty. A consciousness that many scrupled to hold +intercourse with her in society, rendered her disagreeably tenacious of +her rank, and jealous of every thing that appeared like neglect. She had +constituted herself mistress of Sir Bingo's purse; and, unrestrained in +the expenses of dress and equipage, chose, contrary to her maiden +practice, to be rather rich and splendid than gay, and to command that +attention by magnificence, which she no longer deigned to solicit by +rendering herself either agreeable or entertaining. One secret source of +her misery was, the necessity of showing deference to Lady Penelope +Penfeather, whose understanding she despised, and whose pretensions to +consequence, to patronage, and to literature, she had acuteness enough +to see through, and to contemn; and this dislike was the more grievous, +that she felt she depended a good deal on Lady Penelope's countenance +for the situation she was able to maintain even among the not very +select society of St. Ronan's Well; and that, neglected by her, she must +have dropped lower in the scale even there. Neither was Lady Penelope's +kindness to Lady Binks extremely cordial. She partook in the ancient and +ordinary dislike of single nymphs of a certain age, to those wh<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_88" id="vol_i_Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span>o made +splendid alliances under their very eye—and she more than suspected the +secret disaffection of the lady. But the name sounded well; and the +style in which Lady Binks lived was a credit to the place. So they +satisfied their mutual dislike with saying a few sharp things to each +other occasionally, but all under the mask of civility.</p> + +<p>Such was Lady Binks; and yet, being such, her dress, and her equipage, +and carriages, were the envy of half the Misses at the Well, who, while +she sat disfiguring with sullenness her very lovely face, (for it was as +beautiful as her shape was exquisite,) only thought she was proud of +having carried her point, and felt herself, with her large fortune and +diamond bandeau, no fit company for the rest of the party. They gave +way, therefore, with meekness to her domineering temper, though it was +not the less tyrannical, that in her maiden state of hoyden-hood, she +had been to some of them an object of slight and of censure; and Lady +Binks had not forgotten the offences offered to Miss Bonnyrigg. But the +fair sisterhood submitted to her retaliations, as lieutenants endure the +bullying of a rude and boisterous captain of the sea, with the secret +determination to pay it home to their underlings, when they shall become +captains themselves.</p> + +<p>In this state of importance, yet of penance, Lady Binks occupied her +place at the dinner-table, alternately disconcerted by some stupid +speech of her lord and master, and by some slight sarcasm from Lady +Penelope, to which she longed to reply, but dared not.</p> + +<p>She looked from time to time at her neighbour Frank Tyrrel, but without +addressing him, and accepted in silence the usual civilities which he +pr<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_89" id="vol_i_Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span>offered to her. She had remarked keenly his interview with Sir Bingo, +and knowing by experience the manner in which her honoured lord was wont +to retreat from a dispute in which he was unsuccessful, as well as his +genius for getting into such perplexities, she had little doubt that he +had sustained from the stranger some new indignity; whom, therefore, she +regarded with a mixture of feeling, scarce knowing whether to be pleased +with him for having given pain to him whom she hated, or angry with him +for having affronted one in whose degradation her own was necessarily +involved. There might be other thoughts—on the whole, she regarded him +with much though with mute attention. He paid her but little in return, +being almost entirely occupied in replying to the questions of the +engrossing Lady Penelope Penfeather.</p> + +<p>Receiving polite though rather evasive answers to her enquiries +concerning his late avocations, her ladyship could only learn that +Tyrrel had been travelling in several remote parts of Europe, and even +of Asia. Baffled, but not repulsed, the lady continued her courtesy, by +pointing out to him, as a stranger, several individuals of the company +to whom she proposed introducing him, as persons from whose society he +might derive either profit or amusement. In the midst of this sort of +conversation, however, she suddenly stopped short.</p> + +<p>“Will you forgive me, Mr. Tyrrel,” she said, “if I say I have been +watching your thoughts for some moments, and that I have detected you? +All the while that I have been talking of these good folks, and that you +have been making such civil replies, that they might be with great +propriety and utility inserted in the ‘Familiar Dialogues, teaching +foreigners how to e<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_90" id="vol_i_Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span>xpress themselves in English upon ordinary +occasions’—your mind has been entirely fixed upon that empty chair, +which hath remained there opposite betwixt our worthy president and Sir +Bingo Binks.”</p> + +<p>“I own, madam,” he answered, “I was a little surprised at seeing such a +distinguished seat unoccupied, while the table is rather crowded.”</p> + +<p>“O, confess more, sir!—Confess that to a poet a seat unoccupied—the +chair of Banquo—has more charms than if it were filled even as an +alderman would fill it.—What if ‘the Dark Ladye’<a name="vol_i_FNanchor_14_14" id="vol_i_FNanchor_14_14"></a><a href="#vol_i_Footnote_14_14" class="fnanchor">[14]</a> should glide in +and occupy it?—would you have courage to stand the vision, Mr. +Tyrrel?—I assure you the thing is not impossible.”</p> + +<p>“<i>What</i> is not impossible, Lady Penelope?” said Tyrrel, somewhat +surprised.</p> + +<p>“Startled already?—Nay, then, I despair of your enduring the awful +interview.”</p> + +<p>“What interview? who is expected?” said Tyrrel, unable with the utmost +exertion to suppress some signs of curiosity, though he suspected the +whole to be merely some mystification of her ladyship.</p> + +<p>“How delighted I am,” she said, “that I have found out where you are +vulnerable!—Expected—did I say expected?—no, not expected.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">‘She glides, like Night, from land to land,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">She hath strange power of speech.’<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>—But come, I have you at my mercy, and I will be generous and +explain.—We call—that is, among ourselves, you understand—Miss Clara +Mowbray, the sister of that gentleman that sits next to Miss Parker, the +Dark Ladye, and that seat is left for her.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_91" id="vol_i_Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span>—For she was expected—no, +not expected—I forget again!—but it was thought <i>possible</i> she might +honour us to-day, when our feast was so full and piquant.—Her brother +is our Lord of the Manor—and so they pay her that sort of civility to +regard her as a visitor—and neither Lady Binks nor I think of +objecting—She is a singular young person, Clara Mowbray—she amuses me +very much—I am always rather glad to see her.”</p> + +<p>“She is not to come hither to-day,” said Tyrrel; “am I so to understand +your ladyship?”</p> + +<p>“Why, it is past her time—even <i>her</i> time,” said Lady Penelope—“dinner +was kept back half an hour, and our poor invalids were famishing, as you +may see by the deeds they have done since.—But Clara is an odd +creature, and if she took it into her head to come hither at this +moment, hither she would come—she is very whimsical.—Many people think +her handsome—but she looks so like something from another world, that +she makes me always think of Mat Lewis's Spectre Lady.”</p> + +<p>And she repeated with much cadence,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“There is a thing—there is a thing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">I fain would have from thee;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I fain would have that gay gold ring,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">O warrior, give it me!”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>“And then you remember his answer:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">‘This ring Lord Brooke from his daughter took,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And a solemn oath he swore,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That that ladye my bride should be<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When this crusade was o'er.’<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>You do figures as well as landscapes, I suppose, Mr. Tyrrel?—You shall +make a sketch for me—a slight thing—for sketches, <span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_92" id="vol_i_Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span>I think, show the +freedom of art better than finished pieces—I dote on the first +coruscations of genius—flashing like lightning from the cloud!—You +shall make a sketch for my boudoir—my dear sulky den at Air Castle, and +Clara Mowbray shall sit for the Ghost Ladye.”</p> + +<p>“That would be but a poor compliment to your ladyship's friend,” replied +Tyrrel.</p> + +<p>“Friend? We don't get quite that length, though I like Clara very +well.—Quite sentimental cast of face—I think I saw an antique in the +Louvre very like her—(I was there in 1800)—quite an antique +countenance—eyes something hollowed—care has dug caves for them, but +they are caves of the most beautiful marble, arched with jet—a straight +nose, and absolutely the Grecian mouth and chin—a profusion of long +straight black hair, with the whitest skin you ever saw—as white as the +whitest parchment—and not a shade of colour in her cheek—none +whatever—If she would be naughty, and borrow a prudent touch of +complexion, she might be called beautiful. Even as it is, many think her +so, although surely, Mr. Tyrrel, three colours are necessary to the +female face. However, we used to call her the Melpomene of the Spring +last season, as we called Lady Binks—who was not then Lady Binks—our +Euphrosyne—did we not, my dear?”</p> + +<p>“Did we not what, madam?” said Lady Binks, in a tone something sharper +than ought to have belonged to so beautiful a countenance.</p> + +<p>“I am sorry I have started you out of your reverie, my love,” answered +Lady Penelope. “I was only assuring Mr. Tyrrel that you were once +Euphrosyne, though now so much under the banners of Il Penseroso.”</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_93" id="vol_i_Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span></p> +<p>“I do not know that I have been either one or the other,” answered Lady +Binks; “one thing I certainly am not—I am not capable of understanding +your ladyship's wit and learning.”</p> + +<p>“Poor soul,” whispered Lady Penelope to Tyrrel; “we know what we are, we +know not what we may be.—And now, Mr. Tyrrel, I have been your sibyl to +guide you through this Elysium of ours, I think, in reward, I deserve a +little confidence in return.”</p> + +<p>“If I had any to bestow, which could be in the slightest degree +interesting to your ladyship,” answered Tyrrel.</p> + +<p>“Oh! cruel man—he will not understand me!” exclaimed the lady—“In +plain words, then, a peep into your portfolio—just to see what objects +you have rescued from natural decay, and rendered immortal by the +pencil. You do not know—indeed, Mr. Tyrrel, you do not know how I dote +upon your ‘serenely silent art,’ second to poetry alone—equal—superior +perhaps—to music.”</p> + +<p>“I really have little that could possibly be worth the attention of such +a judge as your ladyship,” answered Tyrrel; “such trifles as your +ladyship has seen, I sometimes leave at the foot of the tree I have been +sketching.”</p> + +<p>“As Orlando left his verses in the Forest of Ardennes?—Oh, the +thoughtless prodigality!—Mr. Winterblossom, do you hear this?—We must +follow Mr. Tyrrel in his walks, and glean what he leaves behind him.”</p> + +<p>Her ladyship was here disconcerted by some laughter on Sir Bingo's side +of the table, which she chastised by an angry glance, and then proceeded +emphatically.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_94" id="vol_i_Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span></p> +<p>“Mr. Tyrrel—this must <i>not</i> be—this is not the way of the world, my +good sir, to which even genius must stoop its flight. We must consult +the engraver—though perhaps you etch as well as you draw?”</p> + +<p>“I should suppose so,” said Mr. Winterblossom, edging in a word with +difficulty, “from the freedom of Mr. Tyrrel's touch.”</p> + +<p>“I will not deny my having spoiled a little copper now and then,” said +Tyrrel, “since I am charged with the crime by such good judges; but it +has only been by way of experiment.”</p> + +<p>“Say no more,” said the lady; “my darling wish is accomplished!—We have +long desired to have the remarkable and most romantic spots of our +little Arcadia here—spots consecrated to friendship, the fine arts, the +loves and the graces, immortalized by the graver's art, faithful to its +charge of fame—you shall labour on this task, Mr. Tyrrel; we will all +assist with notes and illustrations—we will all contribute—only some +of us must be permitted to remain anonymous—Fairy favours, you know, +Mr. Tyrrel, must be kept secret—And you shall be allowed the pillage of +the Album—some sweet things there of Mr. Chatterly's—and Mr. Edgeit, a +gentleman of your own profession, I am sure will lend his aid—Dr. +Quackleben will contribute some scientific notices.—And for +subscription”——</p> + +<p>“Financial—financial—your leddyship, I speak to order!” said the +writer, interrupting Lady Penelope with a tone of impudent familiarity, +which was meant doubtless for jocular ease.</p> + +<p>“How am I out of order, Mr. Meiklewham?” said her ladyship, drawing +herself up.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_95" id="vol_i_Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span></p> +<p>“I speak to order!—No warrants for money can be extracted before +intimation to the Committee of Management.”</p> + +<p>“Pray, who mentioned money, Mr. Meiklewham?” said her ladyship.—“That +wretched old pettifogger,” she added in a whisper to Tyrrel, “thinks of +nothing else but the filthy pelf.”</p> + +<p>“Ye spake of subscription, my leddy, whilk is the same thing as money, +differing only in respect of time—the subscription being a contract <i>de +futuro</i>, and having a <i>tractus temporis in gremio</i>—And I have kend mony +honest folks in the company at the Well, complain of the subscriptions +as a great abuse, as obliging them either to look unlike other folk, or +to gie good lawful coin for ballants and picture-books, and things they +caredna a pinch of snuff for.”</p> + +<p>Several of the company, at the lower end of the table, assented both by +nods and murmurs of approbation; and the orator was about to proceed, +when Tyrrel with difficulty procured a hearing before the debate went +farther, and assured the company that her ladyship's goodness had led +her into an error; that he had no work in hand worthy of their +patronage, and, with the deepest gratitude for Lady Penelope's goodness, +had it not in his power to comply with her request. There was some +tittering at her ladyship's expense, who, as the writer slyly observed, +had been something <i>ultronious</i> in her patronage. Without attempting for +the moment any rally, (as indeed the time which had passed since the +removal of the dinner scar<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_96" id="vol_i_Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span>ce permitted an opportunity,) Lady Penelope +gave the signal for the ladies' retreat, and left the gentlemen to the +circulation of the bottle.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol_i_CHAPTER_VII" id="vol_i_CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII.</h2> + +<h3>THE TEA-TABLE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">——While the cups,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which cheer, but not inebriate, wait on each.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="citation"> +<span class="smcap">Cowper.</span><br /> +</p> + + +<p>It was common at the Well, for the fair guests occasionally to give tea +to the company,—such at least as from their rank and leading in the +little society, might be esteemed fit to constitute themselves +patronesses of an evening; and the same lady generally carried the +authority she had acquired into the ball-room, where two fiddles and a +bass, at a guinea a night, with a <i>quantum sufficit</i> of tallow candles, +(against the use of which Lady Penelope often mutinied,) enabled the +company—to use the appropriate phrase—“to close the evening on the +light fantastic toe.”</p> + +<p>On the present occasion, the lion of the hour, Mr. Francis Tyrrel, had +so little answered the high-wrought expectations of Lady Penelope, that +she rather regretted having ever given herself any trouble about him, +and particularly that of having manœuvred herself into the patronage +of the tea-table for the evening, to the great expenditure of souchong +and congo. Accordingly, her ladyship had no soo<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_97" id="vol_i_Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span>ner summoned her own +woman, and her <i>fille de chambre</i>, to make tea, with her page, footman, +and postilion, to hand it about, (in which duty they were assisted by +two richly-laced and thickly-powdered footmen of Lady Binks's, whose +liveries put to shame the more modest garb of Lady Penelope's, and even +dimmed the glory of the suppressed coronet upon the buttons,) than she +began to vilipend and depreciate what had been so long the object of her +curiosity.</p> + +<p>“This Mr. Tyrrel,” she said, in a tone of authoritative decision, “seems +after all a very ordinary sort of person, quite a commonplace man, who, +she dared say, had considered his condition, in going to the old +alehouse, much better than they had done for him, when they asked him to +the Public Rooms. He had known his own place better than they did—there +was nothing uncommon in his appearance or conversation—nothing at all +<i>frappant</i>—she scarce believed he could even draw that sketch. Mr. +Winterblossom, indeed, made a great deal of it; but then all the world +knew that every scrap of engraving or drawing, which Mr. Winterblossom +contrived to make his own, was, the instant it came into his collection, +the finest thing that ever was seen—that was the way with +collectors—their geese were all swans.”</p> + +<p>“And your ladyship's swan has proved but a goose, my dearest Lady Pen,” +said Lady Binks.</p> + +<p>“<i>My</i> swan, dearest Lady Binks! I really do not know how I have deserved +the appropriation.”</p> + +<p>“Do not be angry, my dear Lady Penelope; I only mean, that for a +fortnight and more you have spoke constantly <i>of</i> this Mr. Tyrrel, and +all dinner-time you spoke <i>to</i> him.”</p> + +<p>The fa<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_98" id="vol_i_Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span>ir company began to collect around, at hearing the word <i>dear</i> so +often repeated in the same brief dialogue, which induced them to expect +sport, and, like the vulgar on a similar occasion, to form a ring for +the expected combatants.</p> + +<p>“He sat betwixt us, Lady Binks,” answered Lady Penelope, with dignity. +“You had your usual headache, you know, and, for the credit of the +company, I spoke for one.”</p> + +<p>“For <i>two</i>, if your ladyship pleases,” replied Lady Binks. “I mean,” she +added, softening the expression, “for yourself and me.”</p> + +<p>“I am sorry,” said Lady Penelope, “I should have spoken for one who can +speak so smartly for herself, as my dear Lady Binks—I did not, by any +means, desire to engross the conversation—I repeat it, there is a +mistake about this man.”</p> + +<p>“I think there is,” said Lady Binks, in a tone which implied something +more than mere assent to Lady Penelope's proposition.</p> + +<p>“I doubt if he is an artist at all,” said the Lady Penelope; “or if he +is, he must be doing things for some Magazine, or Encyclopedia, or some +such matter.”</p> + +<p>“<i>I</i> doubt, too, if he be a professional artist,” said Lady Binks. “If +so, he is of the very highest class, for I have seldom seen a +better-bred man.”</p> + +<p>“There are very well-bred artists,” said Lady Penelope. “It is the +profession of a gentleman.”</p> + +<p>“Certainly,” answered Lady Binks; “but the poorer class have often to +struggle with poverty and dependence. In general society, they are like +commercial people in presence of their customers; and that is a +difficult part to sustain. And so you see them of all sorts—shy and +reserved, when they are consci<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_99" id="vol_i_Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span>ous of merit—petulant and whimsical, by +way of showing their independence—intrusive, in order to appear +easy—and sometimes obsequious and fawning, when they chance to be of a +mean spirit. But you seldom see them quite at their ease, and therefore +I hold this Mr. Tyrrel to be either an artist of the first class, raised +completely above the necessity and degradation of patronage, or else to +be no professional artist at all.”</p> + +<p>Lady Penelope looked at Lady Binks with much such a regard as Balaam may +have cast upon his ass, when he discovered the animal's capacity for +holding an argument with him. She muttered to herself—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>“Mon ane parle, et même il parle bien!”</i><br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>But, declining the altercation which Lady Binks seemed disposed to enter +into, she replied, with good-humour, “Well, dearest Rachel, we will not +pull caps about this man—nay, I think your good opinion of him gives +him new value in my eyes. That is always the way with us, my good +friend! We may confess it, when there are none of these conceited male +wretches among us. We will know what he really is—he shall not wear +fern-seed, and walk among us invisible thus—what say you, Maria?”</p> + +<p>“Indeed, I say, dear Lady Penelope,” answered Miss Digges, whose ready +chatter we have already introduced to the reader, “he is a very handsome +man, though his nose is too big, and his mouth too wide—but his teeth +are like pearl—and he has such eyes!—especially when your ladyship +spoke to him. I don't think you looked at his eyes—they are quite deep +and dark, and full of glow, like what you read to us in the letter from +that lady, about Robert Burns.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_100" id="vol_i_Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Upon my word, miss, you come on finely!” said Lady Penelope.—“One had +need take care what they read or talk about before you, I see—Come, +Jones, have mercy upon us—put an end to that symphony of tinkling cups +and saucers, and let the first act of the tea-table begin, if you +please.”</p> + +<p>“Does her leddyship mean the grace?” said honest Mrs. Blower, for the +first time admitted into this worshipful society, and busily employed in +arranging an Indian handkerchief, that might have made a mainsail for +one of her husband's smuggling luggers, which she spread carefully on +her knee, to prevent damage to a flowered black silk gown from the +repast of tea and cake, to which she proposed to do due honour—“Does +her leddyship mean the grace? I see the minister is just coming in.—Her +leddyship waits till ye say a blessing, an ye please, sir.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Winterblossom, who <i>toddled</i> after the chaplain, his toe having +given him an alert hint to quit the dining-table, though he saw every +feature in the poor woman's face swoln with desire to procure +information concerning the ways and customs of the place, passed on the +other side of the way, regardless of her agony of curiosity.</p> + +<p>A moment after, she was relieved by the entrance of Dr. Quackleben, +whose maxim being, that one patient was as well worth attention as +another, and who knew by experience, that the <i>honoraria</i> of a godly +wife of the Bow-head were as apt to be forthcoming, (if not more so,) as +my Lady Penelope's, he e'en sat himself quietly down by Mrs. Blower, and +proceeded with the utmost kindness to enquire after<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_101" id="vol_i_Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> her health, and to +hope she had not forgotten taking a table-spoonful of spirits burnt to a +<i>residuum</i>, in order to qualify the crudities.</p> + +<p>“Indeed, Doctor,” said the honest woman, “I loot the brandy burn as lang +as I dought look at the gude creature wasting itsell that gate—and +then, when I was fain to put it out for very thrift, I did take a +thimbleful of it, (although it is not the thing I am used to, Dr. +Quackleben,) and I winna say but that it did me good.”</p> + +<p>“Unquestionably, madam,” said the Doctor, “I am no friend to the use of +alcohol in general, but there are particular cases—there are particular +cases, Mrs. Blower—My venerated instructor, one of the greatest men in +our profession that ever lived, took a wine-glassful of old rum, mixed +with sugar, every day after his dinner.”</p> + +<p>“Ay? dear heart, he would be a comfortable doctor that,” said Mrs. +Blower. “He wad maybe ken something of my case. Is he leevin' think ye, +sir?”</p> + +<p>“Dead for many years, madam,” said Dr. Quackleben; “and there are but +few of his pupils that can fill his place, I assure ye. If I could be +thought an exception, it is only because I was a favourite. Ah! +blessings on the old red cloak of him!—It covered more of the healing +science than the gowns of a whole modern university.”</p> + +<p>“There is ane, sir,” said Mrs. Blower, “that has been muckle recommended +about Edinburgh—Macgregor, I think they ca' him—folk come far and near +to see him.”<a name="vol_i_FNanchor_15_15" id="vol_i_FNanchor_15_15"></a><a href="#vol_i_Footnote_15_15" class="fnanchor">[15]</a></p> + +<p>“I<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_102" id="vol_i_Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> know whom you mean, ma'am—a clever man—no denying it—a clever +man—but there are certain cases—yours, for example—and I think that +of many that come to drink this water—which I cannot say I think he +perfectly understands—hasty—very hasty and rapid. Now I—I give the +disease its own way at first—then watch it, Mrs. Blower—watch the turn +of the tide.”</p> + +<p>“Ay, troth, that's true,” responded the widow; “John Blower was aye +watching turn of tide, puir man.”</p> + +<p>“Then he is a starving doctor, Mrs. Blower—reduces diseases as soldiers +do towns—by famine, not considering that the friendly inhabitants +suffer as much as the hostile garrison—ahem!”</p> + +<p>Here he gave an important and emphatic cough, and then proceeded.</p> + +<p>“I am no friend either to excess or to violent stimulus, Mrs. +Blower—but nature must be supported—a generous diet—cordials +judiciously thrown in—not without the advice of a medical man—that is +my opinion, Mrs. Blower, to speak as a friend—others may starve their +patients if they have a mind.”</p> + +<p>“It wadna do for me, the starving, Dr. Keekerben,” said the alarmed +relict,—“it wadna do for me at a'—Just a' I can do to wear through the +day with the sma' supports that nature requires—not a soul to look +after me, Doctor, since John Blower was ta'en awa.—Thank ye kindly, +sir,” (to the servant who handed the tea,)—“thank ye, my bonny man,” +(to the page who served the cake)—“Now, dinna ye think, Doctor,” (in a +low and confidential voice,) “that her leddyship's tea is rather of the +weakliest—water bewitched, I think—and Mrs. Jones, as they ca' her, +has cut the seedcake very thin?”<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_103" id="vol_i_Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span></p> + +<p>“It is the fashion, Mrs. Blower,” answered Dr. Quackleben; “and her +ladyship's tea is excellent. But your taste is a little chilled, which +is not uncommon at the first use of the waters, so that you are not +sensible of the flavour—we must support the system—reinforce the +digestive powers—give me leave—you are a stranger, Mrs. Blower, and we +must take care of you—I have an elixir which will put that matter to +rights in a moment.”</p> + +<p>So saying, Dr. Quackleben pulled from his pocket a small portable case +of medicines—“Catch me without my tools,”—he said; “here I have the +real useful pharmacopœia—the rest is all humbug and hard names—this +little case, with a fortnight or month, spring and fall, at St. Ronan's +Well, and no one will die till his day come.”</p> + +<p>Thus boasting, the Doctor drew from his case a large vial or small +flask, full of a high-coloured liquid, of which he mixed three +tea-spoonfuls in Mrs. Blower's cup, who, immediately afterwards, allowed +that the flavour was improved beyond all belief, and that it was “vera +comfortable and restorative indeed.”</p> + +<p>“Will it not do good to my complaints, Doctor?” said Mr. Winterblossom, +who had strolled towards them, and held out his cup to the physician.</p> + +<p>“I by no means recommend it, Mr. Winterblossom,” said Dr. Quackleben, +shutting up his case with great coolness; “your case is œdematous, +and you treat it your own way—you are as good a physician as I am, and +I never interfere with another practitioner's patient.”</p> + +<p>“Well, Doctor,” said Winterblos<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_104" id="vol_i_Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span>som, “I must wait till Sir Bingo comes +in—he has a hunting-flask usually about him, which contains as good +medicine as yours to the full.”</p> + +<p>“You will wait for Sir Bingo some time,” said the Doctor; “he is a +gentleman of sedentary habits—he has ordered another magnum.”</p> + +<p>“Sir Bingo is an unco name for a man o' quality, dinna ye think sae, Dr. +Cocklehen?” said Mrs. Blower. “John Blower, when he was a wee bit in the +wind's eye, as he ca'd it, puir fallow—used to sing a sang about a dog +they ca'd Bingo, that suld hae belanged to a farmer.”</p> + +<p>“Our Bingo is but a puppy yet, madam—or if a dog, he is a sad dog,” +said Mr. Winterblossom, applauding his own wit, by one of his own +inimitable smiles.</p> + +<p>“Or a mad dog, rather,” said Mr. Chatterly, “for he drinks no water;” +and he also smiled gracefully at the thoughts of having trumped, as it +were, the president's pun.</p> + +<p>“Twa pleasant men, Doctor,” said the widow, “and so is Sir Bungy too, +for that matter; but O! is nae it a pity he should bide sae lang by the +bottle? It was puir John Blower's faut too, that weary tippling; when he +wan to the lee-side of a bowl of punch, there was nae raising him.—But +they are taking awa the things, and, Doctor, is it not an awfu' thing +that the creature-comforts should hae been used without grace or +thanksgiving?—that Mr. Chitterling, if he really be a minister, has +muckle to answer for, that he neglects his Master's service.”</p> + +<p>“Why, madam,” said the Doctor, “Mr. Chatterly is scarce arrived at the +rank of a minister plenipotentiary.”</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_105" id="vol_i_Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span></p> +<p>“A minister potentiary—ah, Doctor, I doubt that is some jest of yours,” +said the widow; “that's sae like puir John Blower. When I wad hae had +him gie up the lovely Peggy, ship and cargo, (the vessel was named after +me, Doctor Kittleben,) to be remembered in the prayers o' the +congregation, he wad say to me, ‘they may pray that stand the risk, +Peggy Bryce, for I've made insurance.’ He was a merry man, Doctor; but +he had the root of the matter in him, for a' his light way of speaking, +as deep as ony skipper that ever loosed anchor from Leith Roads. I hae +been a forsaken creature since his death—O the weary days and nights +that I have had!—and the weight on the spirits—the spirits, +Doctor!—though I canna say I hae been easier since I hae been at the +Wall than even now—if I kend what I was awing ye for elickstir, Doctor, +for it's done me muckle heart's good, forby the opening of my mind to +you.”</p> + +<p>“Fie, fie, ma'am,” said the Doctor, as the widow pulled out a seal-skin +pouch, such as sailors carry tobacco in, but apparently well stuffed +with bank-notes,—“Fie, fie, madam—I am no apothecary—I have my +diploma from Leyden—a regular physician, madam,—the elixir is heartily +at your service; and should you want any advice, no man will be prouder +to assist you than your humble servant.”</p> + +<p>“I am sure I am muckle obliged to your kindness, Dr. Kickalpin,” said +the widow, folding up her pouch; “this was puir John Blower's +<i>spleuchan</i>,<a name="vol_i_FNanchor_16_16" id="vol_i_FNanchor_16_16"></a><a href="#vol_i_Footnote_16_16" class="fnanchor">[16]</a> as they ca' it—I e'en wear it for his sake. He was a +kind man, and left me comfortable in warld's gudes; but comforts hae +their cumbers,—to be a lone woman is a sair weird, Dr. Kittlepin.”</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_106" id="vol_i_Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span></p> +<p>Dr. Quackleben drew his chair a little nearer that of the widow, and +entered into a closer communication with her, in a tone doubtless of +more delicate consolation than was fit for the ears of the company at +large.</p> + +<p>One of the chief delights of a watering-place is, that every one's +affairs seem to be put under the special surveillance of the whole +company, so that, in all probability, the various flirtations, +<i>liaisons</i>, and so forth, which naturally take place in the society, are +not only the subject of amusement to the parties engaged, but also to +the lookers on; that is to say, generally speaking, to the whole +community, of which for the time the said parties are members. Lady +Penelope, the presiding goddess of the region, watchful over all her +circle, was not long of observing that the Doctor seemed to be suddenly +engaged in close communication with the widow, and that he had even +ventured to take hold of her fair plump hand, with a manner which +partook at once of the gallant suitor, and of the medical adviser.</p> + +<p>“For the love of Heaven,” said her ladyship, “who can that comely dame +be, on whom our excellent and learned Doctor looks with such uncommon +regard?”</p> + +<p>“Fat, fair, and forty,” said Mr. Winterblossom; “that is all I know of +her—a mercantile person.”</p> + +<p>“A carrack, Sir President,” said the chaplain, “richly laden with +colonial produce, by name the Lovely Peggy Bryce—no master—the late +John Blower of North Leith having pushed off his boat for the Stygian +Creek, and left the vessel without a hand on board.”</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_107" id="vol_i_Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span></p> +<p>“The Doctor,” said Lady Penelope, turning her glass towards them, “seems +willing to play the part of pilot.”</p> + +<p>“I dare say he will be willing to change her name and register,” said +Mr. Chatterly.</p> + +<p>“He can be no less in common requital,” said Winterblossom. “She has +changed <i>his</i> name six times in the five minutes that I stood within +hearing of them.”</p> + +<p>“What do you think of the matter, my dear Lady Binks?” said Lady +Penelope.</p> + +<p>“Madam?” said Lady Binks, starting from a reverie, and answering as one +who either had not heard, or did not understand the question.</p> + +<p>“I mean, what think you of what is going on yonder?”</p> + +<p>Lady Binks turned her glass in the direction of Lady Penelope's glance, +fixed the widow and the Doctor with one bold fashionable stare, and then +dropping her hand slowly, said with indifference, “I really see nothing +there worth thinking about.”</p> + +<p>“I dare say it is a fine thing to be married,” said Lady Penelope; +“one's thoughts, I suppose, are so much engrossed with one's own perfect +happiness, that they have neither time nor inclination to laugh like +other folks. Miss Rachel Bonnyrigg would have laughed till her eyes ran +over, had she seen what Lady Binks cares so little about—I dare say it +must be an all-sufficient happiness to be married.”</p> + +<p>“He would be a happy man that could convince your ladyship of that in +good earnest,” said Mr. Winterblossom.</p> + +<p>“Oh, who knows—the whim may strike me,” replied the lady; “but +no—no—no;—and that is three times.”</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_108" id="vol_i_Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span></p> +<p>“Say it sixteen times more,” said the gallant president, “and let +nineteen nay-says be a grant.”</p> + +<p>“If I should say a thousand Noes, there exists not the alchymy in living +man that could extract one Yes out of the whole mass,” said her +ladyship. “Blessed be the memory of Queen Bess!—She set us all an +example to keep power when we have it—What noise is that?”</p> + +<p>“Only the usual after-dinner quarrel,” said the divine. “I hear the +Captain's voice, else most silent, commanding them to keep peace, in the +devil's name and that of the ladies.”</p> + +<p>“Upon my word, dearest Lady Binks, this is too bad of that lord and +master of yours, and of Mowbray, who might have more sense, and of the +rest of that claret-drinking set, to be quarrelling and alarming our +nerves every evening with presenting their pistols perpetually at each +other, like sportsmen confined to the house upon a rainy 12th of August. +I am tired of the Peace-maker—he but skins the business over in one +case to have it break out elsewhere.—What think you, love, if we were +to give out in orders, that the next quarrel which may arise, shall be +<i>bona fide</i> fought to an end?—We will all go out and see it, and wear +the colours on each side; and if there should a funeral come of it, we +will attend it in a body.—Weeds are so becoming!—Are they not, my dear +Lady Binks? Look at Widow Blower in her deep black—don't you envy her, +my love?”</p> + +<p>Lady Binks seemed about to make a sharp and hasty answer, but checked +herself, perhaps under the recollection that she could not prudently +come to an open breach with Lady Penelope.—At the sa<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_109" id="vol_i_Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span>me moment the door +opened, and a lady dressed in a riding-habit, and wearing a black veil +over her hat, appeared at the entry of the apartment.</p> + +<p>“Angels and ministers of grace!” exclaimed Lady Penelope, with her very +best tragic start—“my dearest Clara, why so late? and why thus? Will +you step to my dressing-room—Jones will get you one of my gowns—we are +just of a size, you know—do, pray—let me be vain of something of my +own for once, by seeing you wear it.”</p> + +<p>This was spoken in the tone of the fondest female friendship, and at the +same time the fair hostess bestowed on Miss Mowbray one of those tender +caresses, which ladies—God bless them!—sometimes bestow on each other +with unnecessary prodigality, to the great discontent and envy of the +male spectators.</p> + +<p>“You are fluttered, my dearest Clara—you are feverish—I am sure you +are,” continued the sweetly anxious Lady Penelope; “let me persuade you +to lie down.”</p> + +<p>“Indeed you are mistaken, Lady Penelope,” said Miss Mowbray, who seemed +to receive much as a matter of course her ladyship's profusion of +affectionate politeness:—“I am heated, and my pony trotted hard, that +is the whole mystery.—Let me have a cup of tea, Mrs. Jones, and the +matter is ended.”</p> + +<p>“Fresh tea, Jones, directly,” said Lady Penelope, and led her passive +friend to her own corner, as she was pleased to call the recess, in +which she held her little court—ladies and gentlemen curtsying and +bowing as she passed; to which civilities the new guest made no more +return, than the most ordinary politeness rendered unavoidable.</p> + +<p>Lady B<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_110" id="vol_i_Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span>inks did not rise to receive her, but sat upright in her chair, +and bent her head very stiffly; a courtesy which Miss Mowbray returned +in the same stately manner, without farther greeting on either side.</p> + +<p>“Now, wha can that be, Doctor?” said the Widow Blower—“mind ye have +promised to tell me all about the grand folk—wha can that be that Leddy +Penelope hauds such a racket wi'?—and what for does she come wi' a +habit and a beaver-hat, when we are a' (a glance at her own gown) in our +silks and satins?”</p> + +<p>“To tell you who she is, my dear Mrs. Blower, is very easy,” said the +officious Doctor. “She is Miss Clara Mowbray, sister to the Lord of the +Manor—the gentleman who wears the green coat, with an arrow on the +cape. To tell why she wears that habit, or does any thing else, would be +rather beyond doctor's skill. Truth is, I have always thought she was a +little—a very little—touched—call it nerves—hypochondria—or what +you will.”</p> + +<p>“Lord help us, puir thing!” said the compassionate widow.—“And troth it +looks like it. But it's a shame to let her go loose, Doctor—she might +hurt hersell, or somebody. See, she has ta'en the knife!—O, it's only +to cut a shave of the diet-loaf. She winna let the powder-monkey of a +boy help her. There's judgment in that though, Doctor, for she can cut +thick or thin as she likes.—Dear me! she has not taken mair than a +crumb, than ane would pit between the wires of a canary-bird's cage, +after all.—I wish she would lift up that lang veil, or put off that +riding-skirt, Doctor. She should really be showed the regulations, +Doctor Kickelshin.”</p> + +<p>“She care<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_111" id="vol_i_Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span>s about no rules we can make, Mrs. Blower,” said the Doctor; +“and her brother's will and pleasure, and Lady Penelope's whim of +indulging her, carry her through in every thing. They should take +advice on her case.”</p> + +<p>“Ay, truly, it's time to take advice, when young creatures like her +caper in amang dressed leddies, just as if they were come from +scampering on Leith sands.—Such a wark as my leddy makes wi' her, +Doctor! Ye would think they were baith fools of a feather.”</p> + +<p>“They might have flown on one wing, for what I know,” said Dr. +Quackleben; “but there was early and sound advice taken in Lady +Penelope's case. My friend, the late Earl of Featherhead, was a man of +judgment—did little in his family but by rule of medicine—so that, +what with the waters, and what with my own care, Lady Penelope is only +freakish—fanciful—that's all—and her quality bears it out—the +peccant principle might have broken out under other treatment.”</p> + +<p>“Ay—she has been weel-friended,” said the widow; “but this bairn +Mowbray, puir thing! how came she to be sae left to hersell?”</p> + +<p>“Her mother was dead—her father thought of nothing but his sports,” +said the Doctor. “Her brother was educated in England, and cared for +nobody but himself, if he had been here. What education she got was at +her own hand—what reading she read was in a library full of old +romances—what friends or company she had was what chance sent her—then +no family-physician, not even a good surgeon, within ten miles! And so +you cannot wonder if the poor thing became unsettled.”</p> + +<p>“Puir thing<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_112" id="vol_i_Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span>!—no doctor!—nor even a surgeon!—But, Doctor,” said the +widow, “maybe the puir thing had the enjoyment of her health, ye ken, +and, then”——</p> + +<p>“Ah! ha, ha!—why <i>then</i>, madam, she needed a physician far more than if +she had been delicate. A skilful physician, Mrs. Blower, knows how to +bring down that robust health, which is a very alarming state of the +frame when it is considered <i>secundum artem</i>. Most sudden deaths happen +when people are in a robust state of health. Ah! that state of perfect +health is what the doctor dreads most on behalf of his patient.”</p> + +<p>“Ay, ay, Doctor?—I am quite sensible, nae doubt,” said the widow, “of +the great advantage of having a skeelfu' person about ane.”</p> + +<p>Here the Doctor's voice, in his earnestness to convince Mrs. Blower of +the danger of supposing herself capable of living and breathing without +a medical man's permission, sunk into a soft pleading tone, of which our +reporter could not catch the sound. He was, as great orators will +sometimes be, “inaudible in the gallery.”</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, Lady Penelope overwhelmed Clara Mowbray with her caresses. In +what degree her ladyship, at her heart, loved this young person, might +be difficult to ascertain,—probably in the degree in which a child +loves a favourite toy. But Clara was a toy not always to be come by—as +whimsical in her way as her ladyship in her own, only that poor Clara's +singularities were real, and her ladyship's chiefly affected. Without +adopting the harshness of the Doctor's conclusions concerning the +former, she was certainly unequal in her spirits; and her occasional +fits of levity were chequered by very long intervals of sadness. Her +levity al<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_113" id="vol_i_Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span>so appeared, in the world's eye, greater than it really was; +for she had never been under the restraint of society which was really +good, and entertained an undue contempt for that which she sometimes +mingled with; having unhappily none to teach her the important truth, +that some forms and restraints are to be observed, less in respect to +others than to ourselves. Her dress, her manners, and her ideas, were +therefore very much her own; and though they became her wonderfully, +yet, like Ophelia's garlands, and wild snatches of melody, they were +calculated to excite compassion and melancholy, even while they amused +the observer.</p> + +<p>“And why came you not to dinner?—We expected you—your throne was +prepared.”</p> + +<p>“I had scarce come to tea,” said Miss Mowbray, “of my own freewill. But +my brother says your ladyship proposes to come to Shaws-Castle, and he +insisted it was quite right and necessary, to confirm you in so +flattering a purpose, that I should come and say, Pray do, Lady +Penelope; and so now here am I to say, Pray, do come.”</p> + +<p>“Is an invitation so flattering limited to me alone, my dear +Clara?—Lady Binks will be jealous.”</p> + +<p>“Bring Lady Binks, if she has the condescension to honour us”—[a bow +was very stiffly exchanged between the ladies]—“bring Mr. +Springblossom—Winterblossom—and all the lions and lionesses—we have +room for the whole collection. My brother, I suppose, will bring his own +particular regiment of bears, which, with the usual assortment of +monkeys seen in all caravans, will complete the menagerie. How you are +to be entertained at Shaws-Castle, is, I thank Heaven, not my business, +but John's.”</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_114" id="vol_i_Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span></p> +<p>“We shall want no formal entertainment, my love,” said Lady Penelope; “a +<i>déjeûner à la fourchette</i>—we know, Clara, you would die of doing the +honours of a formal dinner.”</p> + +<p>“Not a bit; I should live long enough to make my will, and bequeath all +large parties to old Nick, who invented them.”</p> + +<p>“Miss Mowbray,” said Lady Binks, who had been thwarted by this +free-spoken young lady, both in her former character of a coquette and +romp, and in that of a prude which she at present wore—“Miss Mowbray +declares for</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">‘Champagne and a chicken at last.’”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>“The chicken without the champagne, if you please,” said Miss Mowbray; +“I have known ladies pay dear to have champagne on the board.—By the +by, Lady Penelope, you have not your collection in the same order and +discipline as Pidcock and Polito. There was much growling and snarling +in the lower den when I passed it.”</p> + +<p>“It was feeding-time, my love,” said Lady Penelope; “and the lower +animals of every class become pugnacious at that hour—you see all our +safer and well-conditioned animals are loose, and in good order.”</p> + +<p>“Oh, yes—in the keeper's presence, you know—Well, I must venture to +cross the hall again among all that growling and grumbling—I would I +had the fairy prince's quarters of mutton to toss among them if they +should break out—He, I mean, who fetched water from the Fountain of +Lions. However, on second thoughts, I will take the back way, and avoid +them.—What says honest Bottom?—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_115" id="vol_i_Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span><span class="i0">‘For if they should as lions come in strife<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Into such place, 'twere pity of their life.’”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>“Shall I go with you, my dear?” said Lady Penelope.</p> + +<p>“No—I have too great a soul for that—I think some of them are lions +only as far as the hide is concerned.”</p> + +<p>“But why would you go so soon, Clara?”</p> + +<p>“Because my errand is finished—have I not invited you and yours? and +would not Lord Chesterfield himself allow I have done the polite thing?”</p> + +<p>“But you have spoke to none of the company—how can you be so odd, my +love?” said her ladyship.</p> + +<p>“Why, I spoke to them all when I spoke to you and Lady Binks—but I am a +good girl, and will do as I am bid.”</p> + +<p>So saying, she looked round the company, and addressed each of them with +an affectation of interest and politeness, which thinly concealed scorn +and contempt.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Winterblossom, I hope the gout is better—Mr. Robert Rymar—(I have +escaped calling him Thomas for once)—I hope the public give +encouragement to the muses—Mr. Keelavine, I trust your pencil is +busy—Mr. Chatterly, I have no doubt your flock improves—Dr. +Quackleben, I am sure your patients recover—These are all the especials +of the worthy company I know—for the rest, health to the sick, and +pleasure to the healthy!”</p> + +<p>“You are not going in reality, my love?” said Lady Penelope; “these +hasty rides agitate your nerves—they do, indeed—you should be +cautious—Shall I speak to Quackleben?”</p> + +<p>“To neither Quack nor quackle, on my account, my dear l<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_116" id="vol_i_Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span>ady. It is not as +you would seem to say, by your winking at Lady Binks—it is not, +indeed—I shall be no Lady Clementina, to be the wonder and pity of the +spring of St. Ronan's—No Ophelia neither—though I will say with her, +Good-night, ladies—Good night, sweet ladies!—and now—not my coach, my +coach—but my horse, my horse!”</p> + +<p>So saying, she tripped out of the room by a side passage, leaving the +ladies looking at each other significantly, and shaking their heads with +an expression of much import.</p> + +<p>“Something has ruffled the poor unhappy girl,” said Lady Penelope; “I +never saw her so very odd before.”</p> + +<p>“Were I to speak my mind,” said Lady Binks, “I think, as Mrs. Highmore +says in the farce, her madness is but a poor excuse for her +impertinence.”</p> + +<p>“Oh fie! my sweet Lady Binks,” said Lady Penelope, “spare my poor +favourite! You, surely, of all others, should forgive the excesses of an +amiable eccentricity of temper.—Forgive me, my love, but I must defend +an absent friend—My Lady Binks, I am very sure, is too generous and +candid to</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">‘Hate for arts which caused herself to rise.’”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>“Not being conscious of any high elevation, my lady,” answered Lady +Binks, “I do not know any arts I have been under the necessity of +practising to attain it. I suppose a Scotch lady of an ancient family +may become the wife of an English baronet, and no very extraordinary +great cause to wonder at it.”</p> + +<p>“No, surely—but people in this world will, you know, wonder at +nothing,” answered Lady Penelope.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_117" id="vol_i_Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span></p> +<p>“If you envy me my poor quiz, Sir Bingo, I'll get you a better, Lady +Pen.”</p> + +<p>“I don't doubt your talents, my dear, but when I want one, I will get +one for myself.—But here comes the wh<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_118" id="vol_i_Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span>ole party of quizzes.—Joliffe, +offer the gentlemen tea—then get the floor ready for the dancers, and +set the card-tables in the next room.”</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol_i_CHAPTER_VIII" id="vol_i_CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII.</h2> + +<h3>AFTER DINNER.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">They draw the cork, they broach the barrel,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And first they kiss, and then they quarrel.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="citation"> +<span class="smcap">Prior.</span><br /> +</p> + + +<p>If the reader has attended much to the manners of the canine race, he +may have remarked the very different manner in which the individuals of +the different sexes carry on their quarrels among each other. The +females are testy, petulant, and very apt to indulge their impatient +dislike of each other's presence, or the spirit of rivalry which it +produces, in a sudden bark and snap, which last is generally made as +much at advantage as possible. But these ebullitions of peevishness lead +to no very serious or prosecuted conflict; the affair begins and ends in +a moment. Not so the ire of the male dogs, which, once produced and +excited by growls of mutual offence and defiance, leads generally to a +fierce and obstinate contest; in which, if the parties be dogs of game, +and well-matched, they grapple, throttle, tear, roll each other in the +kennel, and can only be separated by choking them with their own +collars, till they lose wind and hold at the same time, or by surprising +them out of their wrath by sousing them with cold water.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_119" id="vol_i_Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span></p> +<p>The simile, though a currish one, will hold good in its application to +the human race. While the ladies in the tea-room of the Fox Hotel were +engaged in the light snappish velitation, or skirmish, which we have +described, the gentlemen who remained in the parlour were more than once +like to have quarrelled more seriously.</p> + +<p>We have mentioned the weighty reasons which induced Mr. Mowbray to look +upon the stranger whom a general invitation had brought into their +society, with unfavourable prepossessions; and these were far from being +abated by the demeanour of Tyrrel, which, though perfectly well-bred, +indicated a sense of equality, which the young Laird of St. Ronan's +considered as extremely presumptuous.</p> + +<p>As for Sir Bingo, he already began to nourish the genuine hatred always +entertained by a mean spirit against an antagonist, before whom it is +conscious of having made a dishonourable retreat. He forgot not the +manner, look, and tone, with which Tyrrel had checked his unauthorized +intrusion; and though he had sunk beneath it at the moment, the +recollection rankled in his heart as an affront to be avenged. As he +drank his wine, courage, the want of which was, in his more sober +moments, a check upon his bad temper, began to inflame his malignity, +and he ventured upon several occasions to show his spleen, by +contradicting Tyrrel more flatly than good manners permitted upon so +short an acquaintance, and without any provocation. Tyrrel saw his ill +humour and despised it, as that of an overgrown schoolboy, whom it was +not worth his while to answer according to his folly.</p> + +<p>One of the apparent causes of the Baronet's rude<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_120" id="vol_i_Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span>ness was indeed childish +enough. The company were talking of shooting, the most animating topic +of conversation among Scottish country gentlemen of the younger class, +and Tyrrel had mentioned something of a favourite setter, an uncommonly +handsome dog, from which he had been for some time separated, but which +he expected would rejoin him in the course of next week.</p> + +<p>“A setter!” retorted Sir Bingo, with a sneer; “a pointer I suppose you +mean?”</p> + +<p>“No, sir,” said Tyrrel; “I am perfectly aware of the difference betwixt +a setter and a pointer, and I know the old-fashioned setter is become +unfashionable among modern sportsmen. But I love my dog as a companion, +as well as for his merits in the field; and a setter is more sagacious, +more attached, and fitter for his place on the hearth-rug, than a +pointer—not,” he added, “from any deficiency of intellects on the +pointer's part, but he is generally so abused while in the management of +brutal breakers and grooms, that he loses all excepting his professional +accomplishments, of finding and standing steady to game.”</p> + +<p>“And who the d——l desires he should have more?” said Sir Bingo.</p> + +<p>“Many people, Sir Bingo,” replied Tyrrel, “have been of opinion, that +both dogs and men may follow sport indifferently well, though they do +happen, at the same time, to be fit for mixing in friendly intercourse +in society.”</p> + +<p>“That is for licking trenchers, and scratching copper, I suppose,” said +the Baronet, <i>sotto voce</i>; and added, in a louder and more distinct +tone,—“He never before heard that a setter was fit to follow any man's +heels but a poacher's.”</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_121" id="vol_i_Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span></p> +<p>“You know it now then, Sir Bingo,” answered Tyrrel; “and I hope you will +not fall into so great a mistake again.”</p> + +<p>The Peace-maker here seemed to think his interference necessary, and, +surmounting his tactiturnity, made the following pithy speech:—“By Cot! +and do you see, as you are looking for my opinion, I think there is no +dispute in the matter—because, by Cot! it occurs to me, d'ye see, that +ye are both right, by Cot! It may do fery well for my excellent friend +Sir Bingo, who hath stables, and kennels, and what not, to maintain the +six filthy prutes that are yelping and yowling all the tay, and all the +neight too, under my window, by Cot!—And if they are yelping and +yowling there, may I never die but I wish they were yelping and yowling +somewhere else. But then there is many a man who may be as cood a +gentleman at the bottom as my worthy friend Sir Bingo, though it may be +that he is poor; and if he is poor—and as if it might be my own case, +or that of this honest gentleman, Mr. Tirl—is that a reason or a law, +that he is not to keep a prute of a tog, to help him to take his sports +and his pleasures? and if he has not a stable or a kennel to put the +crature into, must he not keep it in his pit of ped-room, or upon his +parlour hearth, seeing that Luckie Dods would make the kitchen too hot +for the paist—and so, if Mr. Tirl finds a setter more fitter for his +purpose than a pointer, by Cot, I know no law against it, else may I +never die the black death.”</p> + +<p>If this oration appear rather long for the occasion, the reader must +recollect that Captain MacTurk had in all probability the trouble of +translating it from the periphrastic language of Ossian, in which it was +originally conceived in his own mind.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_122" id="vol_i_Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span></p> +<p>The Man of Law replied to the Man of Peace, “Ye are mistaken for ance in +your life, Captain, for there is a law against setters; and I will +undertake to prove them to be the ‘lying dogs,’ which are mentioned in +the auld Scots statute, and which all and sundry are discharged to keep, +under a penalty of”——</p> + +<p>Here the Captain broke in, with a very solemn mien and dignified +manner—“By Cot! Master Meiklewham, and I shall be asking what you mean +by talking to me of peing mistaken, and apout lying togs, sir—because I +would have you to know, and to pelieve, and to very well consider, that +I never was mistaken in my life, sir, unless it was when I took you for +a gentleman.”</p> + +<p>“No offence, Captain,” said Mr. Meiklewham; “dinna break the wand of +peace, man, you that should be the first to keep it.—He is as +cankered,” continued the Man of Law, apart to his patron, “as an auld +Hieland terrier, that snaps at whatever comes near it—but I tell you ae +thing, St. Ronan's, and that is on saul and conscience, that I believe +this is the very lad Tirl, that I raised a summons against before the +justices—him and another hempie—in your father's time, for shooting on +the Spring-well-head muirs.”</p> + +<p>“The devil you did, Mick!” replied the Lord of the Manor, also +aside;—“Well, I am obliged to you for giving me some reason for the ill +thoughts I had of him—I knew he was some trumpery scamp—I'll blow him, +by”——</p> + +<p>“Whisht—stop—hush—haud your tongue, St. Ronan's,—keep a calm +sough—ye see, I intended the process, by your worthy father's desire, +before the Quar<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_123" id="vol_i_Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span>ter Sessions—but I ken na—The auld sheriff-clerk stood +the lad's friend—and some of the justices thought it was but a mistake +of the marches, and sae we couldna get a judgment—and your father was +very ill of the gout, and I was feared to vex him, and so I was fain to +let the process sleep, for fear they had been assoilzied.—Sae ye had +better gang cautiously to wark, St. Ronan's, for though they were +summoned, they were not convict.”</p> + +<p>“Could you not take up the action again?” said Mr. Mowbray.</p> + +<p>“Whew! it's been prescribed sax or seeven year syne. It is a great +shame, St. Ronan's, that the game laws, whilk are the very best +protection that is left to country gentlemen against the encroachment of +their inferiors, rin sae short a course of prescription—a poacher may +just jink ye back and forward like a flea in a blanket, (wi' +pardon)—hap ye out of ae county and into anither at their pleasure, +like pyots—and unless ye get your thum-nail on them in the very nick o' +time, ye may dine on a dish of prescription, and sup upon an +absolvitor.”</p> + +<p>“It is a shame indeed,” said Mowbray, turning from his confident and +agent, and addressing himself to the company in general, yet not without +a peculiar look directed to Tyrrel.</p> + +<p>“What is a shame, sir?” said Tyrrel, conceiving that the observation was +particularly addressed to him.</p> + +<p>“That we should have so many poachers upon our muirs, sir,” answered St. +Ronan's. “I sometimes regret having countenanced the Well here, when I +think how many guns it has brought on my property every season.”</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_124" id="vol_i_Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span></p> +<p>“Hout fie! hout awa, St. Ronan's!” said his Man of Law; “no countenance +the Waal? What would the country-side be without it, I would be glad to +ken? It's the greatest improvement that has been made on this country +since the year forty-five. Na, na, it's no the Waal that's to blame for +the poaching and delinquencies on the game. We maun to the Aultoun for +the howf of that kind of cattle. Our rules at the Waal are clear and +express against trespassers on the game.”</p> + +<p>“I can't think,” said the Squire, “what made my father sell the property +of the old change-house yonder, to the hag that keeps it open out of +spite, I think, and to harbour poachers and vagabonds!—I cannot +conceive what made him do so foolish a thing!”</p> + +<p>“Probably because your father wanted money, sir,” said Tyrrel, dryly; +“and my worthy landlady, Mrs. Dods, had got some.—You know, I presume, +sir, that I lodge there?”</p> + +<p>“Oh, sir,” replied Mowbray, in a tone betwixt scorn and civility, “you +cannot suppose the present company is alluded to; I only presumed to +mention as a fact, that we have been annoyed with unqualified people +shooting on our grounds, without either liberty or license. And I hope +to have her sign taken down for it—that is all.—There was the same +plague in my father's days, I think, Mick?”</p> + +<p>But Mr. Meiklewham, who did not like Tyrrel's looks so well as to induce +him to become approver on the occasion, replied with an inarticulate +grunt, addressed to the company, and a private admonition to his +patron's own ear, “to let sleeping dogs lie.”</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_125" id="vol_i_Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span></p> +<p>“I can scarce forbear the fellow,” said St. Ronan's; “and yet I cannot +well tell where my dislike to him lies—but it would be d——d folly to +turn out with him for nothing; and so, honest Mick, I will be as quiet +as I can.”</p> + +<p>“And that you may be so,” said Meiklewham, “I think you had best take no +more wine.”</p> + +<p>“I think so too,” said the Squire; “for each glass I drink in his +company gives me the heartburn—yet the man is not different from other +raffs either—but there is a something about him intolerable to me.”</p> + +<p>So saying, he pushed back his chair from the table, and—<i>regis ad +exemplar</i>—after the pattern of the Laird, all the company arose.</p> + +<p>Sir Bingo got up with reluctance, which he testified by two or three +deep growls, as he followed the rest of the company into the outer +apartment, which served as an entrance-hall, and divided the +dining-parlour from the tea-room, as it was called. Here, while the +party were assuming their hats, for the purpose of joining the ladies' +society, (which old-fashioned folk used only to take up for that of +going into the open air,) Tyrrel asked a smart footman, who stood near, +to hand him the hat which lay on the table beyond.</p> + +<p>“Call your own servant, sir,” answered the fellow, with the true +insolence of a pampered menial.</p> + +<p>“Your master,” answered Tyrrel, “ought to have taught you good manners, +my friend, before bringing you here.”</p> + +<p>“Sir Bingo Binks is my master,” said the fellow, in the same insolent +tone as before.</p> + +<p>“Now for it, Bingie,” said Mowbray, who was aware that the Baronet's +pot-courage had arrived at fighting pitch.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_126" id="vol_i_Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Yes!” said Sir Bingo aloud, and more articulately than usual—“The +fellow is my servant—what has any one to say to it?”</p> + +<p>“I at least have my mouth stopped,” answered Tyrrel, with perfect +composure. “I should have been surprised to have found Sir Bingo's +servant better bred than himself.”</p> + +<p>“What d'ye mean by that, sir?” said Sir Bingo, coming up in an offensive +attitude, for he was no mean pupil of the Fives-Court—“What d'ye mean +by that? D——n you, sir! I'll serve you out before you can say +dumpling.”</p> + +<p>“And I, Sir Bingo, unless you presently lay aside that look and manner, +will knock you down before you can cry help.”</p> + +<p>The visitor held in his hand a slip of oak, with which he gave a +flourish, that, however slight, intimated some acquaintance with the +noble art of single-stick. From this demonstration Sir Bingo thought it +prudent somewhat to recoil, though backed by a party of friends, who, in +their zeal for his honour, would rather have seen his bones broken in +conflict bold, than his honour injured by a discreditable retreat; and +Tyrrel seemed to have some inclination to indulge them. But, at the very +instant when his hand was raised with a motion of no doubtful import, a +whispering voice, close to his ear, pronounced the emphatic words—“Are +you a man?”</p> + +<p>Not the thrilling tone with which our inimitable Siddons used to +electrify the scene, when she uttered the same whisper, ever had a more +powerful effect upon an auditor, than had these unexpected sounds on +him, <span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_127" id="vol_i_Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span>to whom they were now addressed. Tyrrel forgot every thing—his +quarrel—the circumstances in which he was placed—the company. The +crowd was to him at once annihilated, and life seemed to have no other +object than to follow the person who had spoken. But suddenly as he +turned, the disappearance of the monitor was at least equally so, for, +amid the group of commonplace countenances by which he was surrounded, +there was none which assorted to the tone and words, which possessed +such a power over him. “Make way,” he said, to those who surrounded him; +and it was in the tone of one who was prepared, if necessary, to make +way for himself.</p> + +<p>Mr. Mowbray of St. Ronan's stepped forward. “Come, sir,” said he, “this +will not do—you have come here, a stranger among us, to assume airs and +dignities, which, by G—d, would become a duke, or a prince! We must +know who or what you are, before we permit you to carry your high tone +any farther.”</p> + +<p>This address seemed at once to arrest Tyrrel's anger, and his impatience +to leave the company. He turned to Mowbray, collected his thoughts for +an instant, and then answered him thus:—“Mr. Mowbray, I seek no quarrel +with any one here—with you, in particular, I am most unwilling to have +any disagreement. I came here by invitation, not certainly expecting +much pleasure, but, at the same time, supposing myself secure from +incivility. In the last point, I find myself mistaken, and therefore +wish the company good-night. I must also make my adieus to the ladies.”</p> + +<p>So saying, he walked several steps, yet, as it seemed, rather +irresolutely, towards the door of the card-room—an<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_128" id="vol_i_Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span>d then, to the +increased surprise of the company, stopped suddenly, and muttering +something about the “unfitness of the time,” turned on his heel, and +bowing haughtily, as there was way made for him, walked in the opposite +direction towards the door which led to the outer hall.</p> + +<p>“D——me, Sir Bingo, will you let him off?” said Mowbray, who seemed to +delight in pushing his friend into new scrapes—“To him, man—to him—he +shows the white feather.”</p> + +<p>Sir Bingo, thus encouraged, planted himself with a look of defiance +exactly between Tyrrel and the door; upon which the retreating guest, +bestowing on him most emphatically the epithet Fool, seized him by the +collar, and flung him out of his way with some violence.</p> + +<p>“I am to be found at the Old Town of St. Ronan's by whomsoever has any +concern with me.”—Without waiting the issue of this aggression farther +than to utter these words, Tyrrel left the hotel. He stopped in the +court-yard, however, with the air of one uncertain whither he intended +to go, and who was desirous to ask some question, which seemed to die +upon his tongue. At length his eye fell upon a groom, who stood not far +from the door of the inn, holding in his hand a handsome pony, with a +side-saddle.</p> + +<p>“Whose”——said Tyrrel—but the rest of the question he seemed unable to +utter.</p> + +<p>The man, however, replied, as if he had heard the whole +interrogation.—“Miss Mowbray's, sir, of St. Ronan's—she leaves +directly—and so I am walking the pony—a clever thing, sir, for a +lady.”</p> + +<p>“She returns to Shaws-Castle by the Buck-stane road?”</p> + +<p>“I su<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_129" id="vol_i_Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span>ppose so, sir,” said the groom. “It is the nighest, and Miss Clara +cares little for rough roads. Zounds! She can spank it over wet and +dry.”</p> + +<p>Tyrrel turned away from the man, and hastily left the hotel—not, +however, by the road which led to the Aultoun, but by a footpath among +the natural copsewood, which, following the course of the brook, +intersected the usual horse-road to Shaws-Castle, the seat of Mr. +Mowbray, at a romantic spot called the Buck-stane.</p> + +<p>In a small peninsula, formed by a winding of the brook, was situated, on +a rising hillock, a large rough-hewn pillar of stone, said by tradition +to commemorate the fall of a stag of unusual speed, size, and strength, +whose flight, after having lasted through a whole summer's day, had +there terminated in death, to the honour and glory of some ancient baron +of St. Ronan's, and of his stanch hounds. During the periodical cuttings +of the copse, which the necessities of the family of St. Ronan's brought +round more frequently than Ponty would have recommended, some oaks had +been spared in the neighbourhood of this massive obelisk, old enough +perhaps to have heard the whoop and halloo which followed the fall of +the stag, and to have witnessed the raising of the rude monument by +which that great event was commemorated. These trees, with their broad +spreading boughs, made a twilight even of noon-day; and, now that the +sun was approaching its setting point, their shade already anticipated +night. This was especially the case where three or four of them +stretched their arms over a deep gully, through which winded the +horse-path to Shaws-Castle, at a point about a pistol-shot distant from +the Buck-stane. As the principal acce<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_130" id="vol_i_Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span>ss to Mr. Mowbray's mansion was by +a carriage-way, which passed in a different direction, the present path +was left almost in a state of nature, full of large stones, and broken +by gullies, delightful, from the varied character of its banks, to the +picturesque traveller, and most inconvenient, nay dangerous, to him who +had a stumbling horse.</p> + +<p>The footpath to the Buck-stane, which here joined the bridle-road, had +been constructed, at the expense of a subscription, under the direction +of Mr. Winterblossom, who had taste enough to see the beauties of this +secluded spot, which was exactly such as in earlier times might have +harboured the ambush of some marauding chief. This recollection had not +escaped Tyrrel, to whom the whole scenery was familiar, who now hastened +to the spot, as one which peculiarly suited his present purpose. He sat +down by one of the larger projecting trees, and, screened by its +enormous branches from observation, was enabled to watch the road from +the Hotel for a great part of its extent, while he was himself invisible +to any who might travel upon it.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile his sudden departure excited a considerable sensation among +the party whom he had just left, and who were induced to form +conclusions not very favourable to his character. Sir Bingo, in +particular, blustered loudly and more loudly, in proportion to the +increasing distance betwixt himself and his antagonist, declaring his +resolution to be revenged on the scoundrel for his insolence—to drive +him from the neighbourhood—and I know not what other menaces of +formidable import. The devil, in the old stories of <i>diàblerie</i>, was +always sure to start up at the elbow of any one who nursed diabolical +purposes, and only wanted a little backing<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_131" id="vol_i_Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> from the foul fiend to carry +his imaginations into action. The noble Captain MacTurk had so far this +property of his infernal majesty, that the least hint of an approaching +quarrel drew him always to the vicinity of the party concerned. He was +now at Sir Bingo's side, and was taking his own view of the matter, in +his character of peace-maker.</p> + +<p>“By Cot! and it's very exceedingly true, my goot friend, Sir Binco—and +as you say, it concerns your honour, and the honour of the place, and +credit and character of the whole company, by Cot! that this matter be +properly looked after; for, as I think, he laid hands on your body, my +excellent goot friend.”</p> + +<p>“Hands, Captain MacTurk!” exclaimed Sir Bingo, in some confusion; “no, +blast him—not so bad as that neither—if he had, I should have handed +<i>him</i> over the window—but, by ——, the fellow had the impudence to +offer to collar me—I had just stepped back to square at him, when, +curse me, the blackguard ran away.”</p> + +<p>“Right, vara right, Sir Bingo,” said the Man of Law, “a vara perfect +blackguard, a poaching sorning sort of fallow, that I will have scoured +out of the country before he be three days aulder. Fash you your beard +nae farther about the matter, Sir Bingo.”</p> + +<p>“By Cot! but I can tell you, Mr. Meiklewham,” said the Man of Peace, +with great solemnity of visage, “that you are scalding your lips in +other folk's kale, and that it is necessary for the credit, and honour, +and respect of this company, at the Well of St. Ronan's, that Sir Bingo +goes by more competent advice than yours upon the pres<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_132" id="vol_i_Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span>ent occasion, Mr. +Meiklewham; for though your counsel may do very well in a small debt +court, here, you see, Mr. Meiklewham, is a question of honour, which is +not a thing in your line, as I take it.”</p> + +<p>“No, before George! it is not,” answered Meiklewham; “e'en take it all +to yoursell, Captain, and meikle ye are likely to make on't.”</p> + +<p>“Then,” said the Captain, “Sir Binco, I will beg the favour of your +company to the smoking room, where we may have a cigar and a glass of +gin-twist; and we will consider how the honour of the company must be +supported and upholden upon the present conjuncture.”</p> + +<p>The Baronet complied with this invitation, as much, perhaps, in +consequence of the medium through which the Captain intended to convey +his warlike counsels, as for the pleasure with which he anticipated the +result of these counsels themselves. He followed the military step of +his leader, whose stride was more stiff, and his form more +perpendicular, when exalted by the consciousness of an approaching +quarrel, to the smoking-room, where, sighing as he lighted his cigar, +Sir Bingo prepared to listen to the words of wisdom and valour, as they +should flow in mingled stream from the lips of Captain MacTurk.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile the rest of the company joined the ladies. “Here has been +Clara,” said Lady Penelope to Mr. Mowbray; “here has been Miss Mowbray +among us, like the ray of a sun which does but dazzle and die.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, poor Clara,” said Mowbray; “I thought I saw her thread her way +through the crowd a little while since, but I was not sure.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” said Lady Penelope, “she h<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_133" id="vol_i_Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span>as asked us all up to Shaws-Castle on +Thursday, to a <i>déjeûner à la fourchette</i>—I trust you confirm your +sister's invitation, Mr. Mowbray?”</p> + +<p>“Certainly, Lady Penelope,” replied Mowbray; “and I am truly glad Clara +has had the grace to think of it—How we shall acquit ourselves is a +different question, for neither she nor I are much accustomed to play +host or hostess.”</p> + +<p>“Oh! it will be delightful, I am sure,” said Lady Penelope; “Clara has a +grace in every thing she does; and you, Mr. Mowbray, can be a perfectly +well-bred gentleman—when you please.”</p> + +<p>“That qualification is severe—Well—good manners be my speed—I will +certainly please to do my best, when I see your ladyship at +Shaws-Castle, which has received no company this many a day.—Clara and +I have lived a wild life of it, each in their own way.”</p> + +<p>“Indeed, Mr. Mowbray,” said Lady Binks, “if I might presume to speak—I +think you do suffer your sister to ride about a little too much without +an attendant. I know Miss Mowbray rides as woman never rode before, but +still an accident may happen.”</p> + +<p>“An accident?” replied Mowbray—“Ah, Lady Binks! accidents happen as +frequently when ladies <i>have</i> attendants as when they are without them.”</p> + +<p>Lady Binks, who, in her maiden state, had cantered a good deal about +these woods under Sir Bingo's escort, coloured, looked spiteful, and was +silent.</p> + +<p>“Besides,” said John Mowbray, more lightly, “where is the risk, after +all? There are no wolves in our woods to eat up our pretty Red-Riding +Hoods; and no lions either—except those of Lady Penelope's train.”</p> + +<p>“Who draw the car of Cybele,” said Mr. Chatt<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_134" id="vol_i_Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span>erly.</p> + +<p>Lady Penelope luckily did not understand the allusion, which was indeed +better intended than imagined.</p> + +<p>“Apropos!” she said; “what have you done with the great lion of the day? +I see Mr. Tyrrel nowhere—Is he finishing an additional bottle with Sir +Bingo?”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Tyrrel, madam,” said Mowbray, “has acted successively the lion +rampant, and the lion passant: he has been quarrelsome, and he has run +away—fled from the ire of your doughty knight, Lady Binks.”</p> + +<p>“I am sure I hope not,” said Lady Binks; “my Chevalier's unsuccessful +campaigns have been unable to overcome his taste for quarrels—a victory +would make a fighting-man of him for life.”</p> + +<p>“That inconvenience might bring its own consolations,” said +Winterblossom, apart to Mowbray; “quarrellers do not usually live long.”</p> + +<p>“No, no,” replied Mowbray, “the lady's despair, which broke out just +now, even in her own despite, is quite natural—absolutely legitimate. +Sir Bingo will give her no chance that way.”</p> + +<p>Mowbray then made his bow to Lady Penelope, and in answer to her request +that he would join the ball or the card-table, observed, that he had no +time to lose; that the heads of the old domestics at Shaws-Castle would +be by this time absolutely turned, by the apprehensions of what Thursday +was to bring forth; and that as Clara would certainly give no directions +for the proper arrangements, it was necessary that he should take that +trouble himself.</p> + +<p>“If you r<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_135" id="vol_i_Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span>ide smartly,” said Lady Penelope, “you may save even a +temporary alarm, by overtaking Clara, dear creature, ere she gets +home—She sometimes suffers her pony to go at will along the lane, as +slow as Betty Foy's.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, but then,” said little Miss Digges, “Miss Mowbray sometimes gallops +as if the lark was a snail to her pony—and it quite frights one to see +her.”</p> + +<p>The Doctor touched Mrs. Blower, who had approached so as to be on the +verge of the genteel circle, though she did not venture within it—they +exchanged sagacious looks, and a most pitiful shake of the head. +Mowbray's eye happened at that moment to glance on them; and doubtless, +notwithstanding their hasting to compose their countenances to a +different expression, he comprehended what was passing through their +minds;—and perhaps it awoke a corresponding note in his own. He took +his hat, and with a cast of thought upon his countenance which it seldom +wore, left the apartment. A moment afterwards his horse's feet were +heard spurning the pavement, as he started off at a sharp pace.</p> + +<p>“There is something singular about these Mowbrays to-night,” said Lady +Penelope.—“Clara, poor dear angel, is always particular; but I should +have thought Mowbray had too much worldly wisdom to be fanciful.—What +are you consulting your <i>souvenir</i> for with such attention, my dear Lady +Binks?”</p> + +<p>“Only for the age of the moon,” said her ladyship, putting the little +tortoise-shell-bound calendar into her reticule; and having done so, she +proceeded to a<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_136" id="vol_i_Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span>ssist Lady Penelope in the arrangements for the evening.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol_i_CHAPTER_IX" id="vol_i_CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX.</h2> + +<h3>THE MEETING.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">We meet as shadows in the land of dreams,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which speak not but in signs.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="citation"> +<i>Anonymous.</i><br /> +</p> + + +<p>Behind one of the old oaks which we have described in the preceding +chapter, shrouding himself from observation like a hunter watching for +his game, or an Indian for his enemy, but with different, very different +purpose, Tyrrel lay on his breast near the Buck-stane, his eye on the +horse-road which winded down the valley, and his ear alertly awake to +every sound which mingled with the passing breeze, or with the ripple of +the brook.</p> + +<p>“To have met her in yonder congregated assembly of brutes and +fools”—such was a part of his internal reflections,—“had been little +less than an act of madness—madness almost equal in its degree to that +cowardice which has hitherto prevented my approaching her, when our +eventful meeting might have taken place unobserved.—But now—now—my +resolution is as fixed as the place is itself favourable. I will not +wait till some chance again shall throw us together, with an hundred +malignant eyes to watch, and wonder, and stare, and try in vain to<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_137" id="vol_i_Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> +account for the expression of feelings which I might find it impossible +to suppress.—Hark—hark!—I hear the tread of a horse—No—it was the +changeful sound of the water rushing over the pebbles. Surely she cannot +have taken the other road to Shaws-Castle!—No—the sounds become +distinct—her figure is visible on the path, coming swiftly +forward.—Have I the courage to show myself?—I have—the hour is come, +and what must be shall be.”</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 415px;"> +<img src="images/illus-1.137.jpg" width="415" height="600" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>Yet this resolution was scarcely formed ere it began to fluctuate, when +he reflected upon the fittest manner of carrying it into execution. To +show himself at a distance, might give the lady an opportunity of +turning back and avoiding the interview which he had determined upon—to +hide himself till the moment when her horse, in rapid motion, should +pass his lurking-place, might be attended with danger to the rider—and +while he hesitated which course to pursue, there was some chance of his +missing the opportunity of presenting himself to Miss Mowbray at all. He +was himself sensible of this, formed a hasty and desperate resolution +not to suffer the present moment to escape, and, just as the ascent +induced the pony to slacken its pace, Tyrrel stood in the middle of the +defile, about six yards distant from the young lady.</p> + +<p>She pulled up the reins, and stopped as if arrested by a +thunderbolt.—“Clara!”—“Tyrrel!” These were the only words which were +exchanged between them, until Tyrrel, moving his feet as slowly as if +they had been of lead, began gradually to diminish the distance which +lay betwixt them. It was then that, observing his closer approach, Miss +Mowbray called out with<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_138" id="vol_i_Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> great eagerness,—“No nearer—no nearer!—So +long have I endured your presence, but if you approach me more closely, +I shall be mad indeed!”</p> + +<p>“What do you fear?” said Tyrrel, in a hollow voice—“What can you fear?” +and he continued to draw nearer, until they were within a pace of each +other.</p> + +<p>Clara, meanwhile, dropping her bridle, clasped her hands together, and +held them up towards Heaven, muttering, in a voice scarcely audible, +“Great God!—If this apparition be formed by my heated fancy, let it +pass away; if it be real, enable me to bear its presence!—Tell me, I +conjure you, are you Francis Tyrrel in blood and body, or is this but +one of those wandering visions, that have crossed my path and glared on +me, but without daring to abide my steadfast glance?”</p> + +<p>“I am Francis Tyrrel,” answered he, “in blood and body, as much as she +to whom I speak is Clara Mowbray.”</p> + +<p>“Then God have mercy on us both!” said Clara, in a tone of deep feeling.</p> + +<p>“Amen!” said Tyrrel.—“But what avails this excess of agitation?—You +saw me but now, Miss Mowbray—Your voice still rings in my ears—You saw +me but now—you spoke to me—and that when I was among strangers—Why +not preserve your composure, when we are where no human eye can see—no +human ear can hear?”</p> + +<p>“Is it so?” said Clara; “and was it indeed yourself whom I saw even +now?—I thought so, and something I said at the time—but my brain has +been but ill settled since we last met—But I am well now—quite well—I +have invited all the people yonder to come to Shaws-Castle—my brother +desired m<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_139" id="vol_i_Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span>e to do it—I hope I shall have the pleasure of seeing Mr. +Tyrrel there—though I think there is some old grudge between my brother +and you.”</p> + +<p>“Alas! Clara, you mistake. Your brother I have scarcely seen,” replied +Tyrrel, much distressed, and apparently uncertain in what tone to +address her, which might soothe, and not irritate her mental malady, of +which he could now entertain no doubt.</p> + +<p>“True—true,” she said, after a moment's reflection, “my brother was +then at college. It was my father, my poor father, whom you had some +quarrel with.—But you will come to Shaws-Castle on Thursday, at two +o'clock?—John will be glad to see you—he can be kind when he +pleases—and then we will talk of old times—I must get on, to have +things ready—Good evening.”</p> + +<p>She would have passed him, but he took gently hold of the rein of her +bridle.—“I will walk with you, Clara,” he said; “the road is rough and +dangerous—you ought not to ride fast.—I will walk along with you, and +we will talk of former times now, more conveniently than in company.”</p> + +<p>“True—true—very true, Mr. Tyrrel—it shall be as you say. My brother +obliges me sometimes to go into company at that hateful place down +yonder; and I do so because he likes it, and because the folks let me +have my own way, and come and go as I list. Do you know, Tyrrel, that +very often when I am there, and John has his eye on me, I can carry it +on as gaily as if you and I had never met?”</p> + +<p>“I would to God we never had,” said Tyrrel, in a trembling voice, “since +this is to be the end of all!”</p> + +<p>“And wherefore should not sorrow be the end of sin and of folly? And +when did happiness come of<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_140" id="vol_i_Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> disobedience?—And when did sound sleep visit +a bloody pillow? That is what I say to myself, Tyrrel, and that is what +you must learn to say too, and then you will bear your burden as +cheerfully as I endure mine. If we have no more than our deserts, why +should we complain?—You are shedding tears, I think—Is not that +childish?—They say it is a relief—if so, weep on, and I will look +another way.”</p> + +<p>Tyrrel walked on by the pony's side, in vain endeavouring to compose +himself so as to reply.</p> + +<p>“Poor Tyrrel,” said Clara, after she had remained silent for some +time—“Poor Frank Tyrrel!—Perhaps you will say in your turn, Poor +Clara—but I am not so poor in spirit as you—the blast may bend, but it +shall never break me.”</p> + +<p>There was another long pause; for Tyrrel was unable to determine with +himself in what strain he could address the unfortunate young lady, +without awakening recollections equally painful to her feelings, and +dangerous, when her precarious state of health was considered. At length +she herself proceeded:—</p> + +<p>“What needs all this, Tyrrel?—and indeed, why came you here?—Why did I +find you but now brawling and quarrelling among the loudest of the +brawlers and quarrellers of yonder idle and dissipated debauchees?—You +were used to have more temper—more sense. Another person—ay, another +that you and I once knew—he might have committed such a folly, and he +would have acted perhaps in character.—But you, who pretend to +wisdom—for shame, for shame!—And indeed, when we talk of that, what +wisdom was there in coming hither at<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_141" id="vol_i_Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> all?—or what good purpose can your +remaining here serve?—Surely you need not come, either to renew your +own unhappiness or to augment mine?”</p> + +<p>“To augment yours—God forbid!” answered Tyrrel. “No—I came hither only +because, after so many years of wandering, I longed to revisit the spot +where all my hopes lay buried.”</p> + +<p>“Ay—buried is the word,” she replied, “crushed down and buried when +they budded fairest. I often think of it, Tyrrel; and there are times +when, Heaven help me! I can think of little else.—Look at me—you +remember what I was—see what grief and solitude have made me.”</p> + +<p>She flung back the veil which surrounded her riding-hat, and which had +hitherto hid her face. It was the same countenance which he had formerly +known in all the bloom of early beauty; but though the beauty remained, +the bloom was fled for ever. Not the agitation of exercise—not that +which arose from the pain and confusion of this unexpected interview, +had called to poor Clara's cheek even the momentary semblance of colour. +Her complexion was marble-white, like that of the finest piece of +statuary.</p> + +<p>“Is it possible?” said Tyrrel; “can grief have made such ravages?”</p> + +<p>“Grief,” replied Clara, “is the sickness of the mind, and its sister is +the sickness of the body—they are twin-sisters, Tyrrel, and are seldom +long separate. Sometimes the body's disease comes first, and dims our +eyes and palsies our hands, before the fire of our mind and of our +intellect is quenched. But mark me—soon after comes her cruel sister +with her urn, and sprinkles cold dew on our hopes and on our loves, our +memory, our recollections, and our feelings, and shows us that they +cannot survive the decay of our bodily pow<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_142" id="vol_i_Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span>ers.”</p> + +<p>“Alas!” said Tyrrel, “is it come to this?”</p> + +<p>“To this,” she replied, speaking from the rapid and irregular train of +her own ideas, rather than comprehending the purport of his sorrowful +exclamation,—“to this it must ever come, while immortal souls are +wedded to the perishable substance of which our bodies are composed. +There is another state, Tyrrel, in which it will be otherwise—God grant +our time of enjoying it were come!”</p> + +<p>She fell into a melancholy pause, which Tyrrel was afraid to disturb. +The quickness with which she spoke, marked but too plainly the irregular +succession of thought, and he was obliged to restrain the agony of his +own feelings, rendered more acute by a thousand painful recollections, +lest, by giving way to his expressions of grief, he should throw her +into a still more disturbed state of mind.</p> + +<p>“I did not think,” she proceeded, “that after so horrible a separation, +and so many years, I could have met you thus calmly and reasonably. But +although what we were formerly to each other can never be forgotten, it +is now all over, and we are only friends—Is it not so?”</p> + +<p>Tyrrel was unable to reply.</p> + +<p>“But I must not remain here,” she said, “till the evening grows darker +on me.—We shall meet again, Tyrrel—meet as friends—nothing more—You +will come up to Shaws-Castle and see me?—no need of secrecy now—my +poor father is in his grave, and his prejudices sleep with him—my +brother John is kind, though he is stern and severe sometimes—Indeed, +Tyrrel, I believe he loves me, though he has taught me to tremble at his +frown w<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_143" id="vol_i_Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span>hen I am in spirits, and talk too much—But he loves me, at least +I think so, for I am sure I love him; and I try to go down amongst them +yonder, and to endure their folly, and, all things considered, I do +carry on the farce of life wonderfully well—We are but actors, you +know, and the world but a stage.”</p> + +<p>“And ours has been a sad and tragic scene,” said Tyrrel, in the +bitterness of his heart, unable any longer to refrain from speech.</p> + +<p>“It has indeed—but, Tyrrel, when was it otherwise with engagements +formed in youth and in folly? You and I would, you know, become men and +women, while we were yet scarcely more than children—We have run, while +yet in our nonage, through the passions and adventures of youth, and +therefore we are now old before our day, and the winter of our life has +come on ere its summer was well begun.—O Tyrrel! often and often have I +thought of this!—Thought of it often? Alas, when will the time come +that I shall be able to think of any thing else!”</p> + +<p>The poor young woman sobbed bitterly, and her tears began to flow with a +freedom which they had not probably enjoyed for a length of time. Tyrrel +walked on by the side of her horse, which now prosecuted its road +homewards, unable to devise a proper mode of addressing the unfortunate +young lady, and fearing alike to awaken her passions and his own. +Whatever he might have proposed to say, was disconcerted by the plain +indications that her mind was clouded, more or less slightly, with a +shade of insanity, which deranged, though it had not destroyed, her +powers of judgment.</p> + +<p>At length he asked her, with as much calmness as he <span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_144" id="vol_i_Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span>could assume—if she +was contented—if aught could be done to render her situation more +easy—if there was aught of which she could complain which he might be +able to remedy? She answered gently, that she was calm and resigned, +when her brother would permit her to stay at home; but that when she was +brought into society, she experienced such a change as that which the +water of the brook that slumbers in a crystalline pool of the rock may +be supposed to feel, when, gliding from its quiet bed, it becomes +involved in the hurry of the cataract.</p> + +<p>“But my brother Mowbray,” she said, “thinks he is right,—and perhaps he +is so. There are things on which we may ponder too long;—and were he +mistaken, why should I not constrain myself in order to please +him—there are so few left to whom I can now give either pleasure or +pain?—I am a gay girl, too, in conversation, Tyrrel—still as gay for a +moment, as when you used to chide me for my folly. So, now I have told +you all,—I have one question to ask on my part—one question—if I had +but breath to ask it—Is <i>he</i> still alive?”</p> + +<p>“He lives,” answered Tyrrel, but in a tone so low, that nought but the +eager attention which Miss Mowbray paid could possibly have caught such +feeble sounds.</p> + +<p>“Lives!” she exclaimed,—“lives!—he lives, and the blood on your hand +is not then indelibly imprinted—O Tyrrel, did you but know the joy +which this assurance gives to me!”</p> + +<p>“Joy!” replied Tyrrel—“joy, that the wretch lives who has poisoned our +happiness for ever?—lives, perhaps, to claim you for his own?”</p> + +<p>“Never, never shall he—dare he do so,” replied Clara, wildly, “while +water can drown, while cords can strangle, steel pierce—while there is +a precipice on the hill, a pool in the river<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_145" id="vol_i_Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span>—never—never!”</p> + +<p>“Be not thus agitated, my dearest Clara,” said Tyrrel; “I spoke I know +not what—he lives indeed—but far distant, and, I trust, never again to +revisit Scotland.”</p> + +<p>He would have said more, but that, agitated with fear or passion, she +struck her horse impatiently with her riding-whip. The spirited animal, +thus stimulated and at the same time restrained, became intractable, and +reared so much, that Tyrrel, fearful of the consequences, and trusting +to Clara's skill as a horsewoman, thought he best consulted her safety +in letting go the rein. The animal instantly sprung forward on the +broken and hilly path at a very rapid pace, and was soon lost to +Tyrrel's anxious eyes.</p> + +<p>As he stood pondering whether he ought not to follow Miss Mowbray +towards Shaws-Castle, in order to be satisfied that no accident had +befallen her on the road, he heard the tread of a horse's feet advancing +hastily in the same direction, leading from the hotel. Unwilling to be +observed at this moment, he stepped aside under shelter of the +underwood, and presently afterwards saw Mr. Mowbray of St. Ronan's, +followed by a groom, ride hastily past his lurking-place, and pursue the +same road which had been just taken by his sister. The presence of her +brother seemed to assure Miss Mowbray's safety, and so removed Tyrrel's +chief reason for following her. Involved in deep and melancholy +reflection upon what had passed, nearly satisfied that his longer +residence in Clara's vicinity could only add to her unhappiness and his +own, yet unable to tear himself from that neighbourhood, or to +relinquish fe<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_146" id="vol_i_Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span>elings which had become entwined with his heart-strings, he +returned to his lodgings in the Aultoun, in a state of mind very little +to be envied.</p> + +<p>Tyrrel, on entering his apartment, found that it was not lighted, nor +were the Abigails of Mrs. Dods quite so alert as a waiter at Long's +might have been, to supply him with candles. Unapt at any time to exact +much personal attendance, and desirous to shun at that moment the +necessity of speaking to any person whatever, even on the most trifling +subject, he walked down into the kitchen to supply himself with what he +wanted. He did not at first observe that Mrs. Dods herself was present +in this the very centre of her empire, far less that a lofty air of +indignation was seated on the worthy matron's brow. At first it only +vented itself in broken soliloquy and interjections; as, for example, +“Vera bonny wark this!—vera creditable wark, indeed!—a decent house to +be disturbed at these hours—Keep a public—as weel keep a bedlam!”</p> + +<p>Finding these murmurs attracted no attention, the dame placed herself +betwixt her guest and the door, to which he was now retiring with his +lighted candle, and demanded of him what was the meaning of such +behaviour.</p> + +<p>“Of what behaviour, madam?” said her guest, repeating her question in a +tone of sternness and impatience so unusual with him, that perhaps she +was sorry at the moment that she had provoked him out of his usual +patient indifference; nay, she might even feel intimidated at the +altercation she had provoked, for the resentment of a quiet and patient +person has always in it something formidable to the professed and +habitual grumbler. But her pride w<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_147" id="vol_i_Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span>as too great to think of a retreat, +after having sounded the signal for contest, and so she continued, +though in a tone somewhat lowered.</p> + +<p>“Maister Tirl, I wad but just ask you, that are a man of sense, whether +I hae ony right to take your behaviour weel? Here have you been these +ten days and mair, eating the best, and drinking the best, and taking up +the best room in my house; and now to think of your gaun doun and taking +up with yon idle harebrained cattle at the Waal—I maun e'en be plain +wi' ye—I like nane of the fair-fashioned folk that can say My Jo and +think it no; and therefore”——</p> + +<p>“Mrs. Dods,” said Tyrrel, interrupting her, “I have no time at present +for trifles. I am obliged to you for your attention while I have been in +your house; but the disposal of my time, here or elsewhere, must be +according to my own ideas of pleasure or business—If you are tired of +me as a guest, send in your bill to-morrow.”</p> + +<p>“My bill!” said Mrs. Dods; “my bill to-morrow! And what for no wait till +Saturday, when it may be cleared atween us, plack and bawbee, as it was +on Saturday last?”</p> + +<p>“Well—we will talk of it to-morrow, Mrs. Dods—Good-night.” And he +withdrew accordingly.</p> + +<p>Luckie Dods stood ruminating for a moment. “The deil's in him,” she +said, “for he winna bide being thrawn. And I think the deil's in me too +for thrawing him, sic a canny lad, and sae gude a customer;—and I am +judging he has something on his mind—want of siller it canna be—I am +sure if I thought that, I wadna care about my small thing.—But want o' +siller it canna be—he pays ower the shillings as if they were sclate +stanes, and that's no<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_148" id="vol_i_Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> the way that folk part with their siller when +there's but little on't—I ken weel eneugh how a customer looks that's +near the grund of the purse.—Weel! I hope he winna mind ony thing of +this nonsense the morn, and I'll try to guide m<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_149" id="vol_i_Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span>y tongue something +better.—Hegh, sirs! but, as the minister says, it's an unruly +member—troth, I am whiles ashamed o't mysell.”</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol_i_CHAPTER_X" id="vol_i_CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X.</h2> + +<h3>RESOURCES.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Come, let me have thy counsel, for I need it;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou art of those, who better help their friends<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With sage advice, than usurers with gold,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Or brawlers with their swords—I'll trust to thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For I ask only from thee words, not deeds.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="citation"> +<i>The Devil hath met his Match.</i><br /> +</p> + + +<p>The day of which we last gave the events chanced to be Monday, and two +days therefore intervened betwixt it and that for which the +entertainment was fixed, that was to assemble in the halls of the Lord +of the Manor the flower of the company now at St. Ronan's Well. The +interval was but brief for the preparations necessary on an occasion so +unusual; since the house, though delightfully situated, was in very +indifferent repair, and for years had never received any visitors, +except when some blithe bachelor or fox-hunter shared the hospitality of +Mr. Mowbray; an event which became daily more and more uncommon; for, as +he himself almost lived at the Well, he generally contrived to receive +his companions where it could be done without expense to himself. +Besides, the health of his sister afforded an irresistible apology to +any of those old-fashioned Scottish gentlemen, who might be too apt (in +the<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_150" id="vol_i_Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> rudeness of more primitive days) to consider a friend's house as +their own. Mr. Mowbray was now, however, to the great delight of all +his companions, nailed down, by invitation given and accepted, and they +looked forward to the accomplishment of his promise, with the eagerness +which the prospect of some entertaining novelty never fails to produce +among idlers.</p> + +<p>A good deal of trouble devolved on Mr. Mowbray, and his trusty agent Mr. +Meiklewham, before any thing like decent preparation could be made for +the ensuing entertainment; and they were left to their unassisted +endeavours by Clara, who, during both the Tuesday and Wednesday, +obstinately kept herself secluded; nor could her brother, either by +threats or flattery, extort from her any light concerning her purpose on +the approaching and important Thursday. To do John Mowbray justice, he +loved his sister as much as he was capable of loving any thing but +himself; and when, in several arguments, he had the mortification to +find that she was not to be prevailed on to afford her assistance, he, +without complaint, quietly set himself to do the best he could by his +own unassisted judgment or opinion with regard to the necessary +preparations.</p> + +<p>This was not, at present, so easy a task as might be supposed: for +Mowbray was ambitious of that character of <i>ton</i> and elegance, which +masculine faculties alone are seldom capable of attaining on such +momentous occasions. The more solid materials of a collation were indeed +to be obtained for money from the next market-town, and were purchased +accordingly; but he felt it was likely to present the vulgar plenty of a +farmer's feast, instead of the eleg<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_151" id="vol_i_Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span>ant entertainment, which might be +announced in a corner of the county paper, as given by John Mowbray, +Esq. of St. Ronan's, to the gay and fashionable company assembled at +that celebrated spring. There was likely to be all sorts of error and +irregularity in dishing, and in sending up; for Shaws-Castle boasted +neither an accomplished housekeeper, nor a kitchenmaid with a hundred +pair of hands to execute her mandates. All the domestic arrangements +were on the minutest system of economy consistent with ordinary decency, +except in the stables, which were excellent and well kept. But can a +groom of the stables perform the labours of a groom of the chambers? or +can the gamekeeper arrange in tempting order the carcasses of the birds +he has shot, strew them with flowers, and garnish them with piquant +sauces? It would be as reasonable to expect a gallant soldier to act as +undertaker, and conduct the funeral of the enemy he has slain.</p> + +<p>In a word, Mowbray talked, and consulted, and advised, and squabbled, +with the deaf cook, and a little old man whom he called the butler, +until he at length perceived so little chance of bringing order out of +confusion, or making the least advantageous impression on such obdurate +understandings as he had to deal with, that he fairly committed the +whole matter of the collation, with two or three hearty curses, to the +charge of the officials principally concerned, and proceeded to take the +state of the furniture and apartments under his consideration.</p> + +<p>Here he found himself almost equally helpless; for what male wit is +adequate to the thousand little coquetries practised in such +arrangements? how can masculine eyes judge of the degree of <i>demi-jour</i> +which is<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_152" id="vol_i_Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> to be admitted into a decorated apartment, or discriminate +where the broad light should be suffered to fall on a tolerable picture, +where it should be excluded, lest the stiff daub of a periwigged +grandsire should become too rigidly prominent? And if men are unfit for +weaving such a fairy web of light and darkness as may best suit +furniture, ornaments, and complexions, how shall they be adequate to the +yet more mysterious office of arranging, while they disarrange, the +various movables in the apartment? so that while all has the air of +negligence and chance, the seats are placed as if they had been +transported by a wish to the spot most suitable for accommodation; +stiffness and confusion are at once avoided, the company are neither +limited to a formal circle of chairs, nor exposed to break their noses +over wandering stools; but the arrangements seem to correspond to what +ought to be the tone of the conversation, easy, without being confused, +and regulated, without being constrained or stiffened.</p> + +<p>Then how can a clumsy male wit attempt the arrangement of all the +<i>chiffonerie</i>, by which old snuff-boxes, heads of canes, pomander boxes, +lamer beads, and all the trash usually found in the pigeon-holes of the +bureaus of old-fashioned ladies, may be now brought into play, by +throwing them, carelessly grouped with other unconsidered trifles, such +as are to be seen in the windows of a pawnbroker's shop, upon a marble +<i>encognure</i>, or a mosaic work-table, thereby turning to advantage the +trash and trinketry, which all the old maids or magpies, who have +inhabited the mansion for a century, have contrived to accumulate. With +what admiration of the ingenuity of the fair artist have I sometimes +pried into the<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_153" id="vol_i_Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span>se miscellaneous groups of <i>pseudo-bijouterie</i>, and seen +the great grandsire's thumb-ring couchant with the coral and bells of +the first-born—and the boatswain's whistle of some old naval uncle, or +his silver tobacco-box, redolent of Oroonoko, happily grouped with the +mother's ivory comb-case, still odorous of musk, and with some virgin +aunt's tortoise-shell spectacle-case, and the eagle's talon of ebony, +with which, in the days of long and stiff stays, our grandmothers were +wont to alleviate any little irritation in their back or shoulders! Then +there was the silver strainer, on which, in more economical times than +ours, the lady of the house placed the tea-leaves, after the very last +drop had been exhausted, that they might afterwards be hospitably +divided among the company, to be eaten with sugar, and with bread and +butter. Blessings upon a fashion which has rescued from the claws of +abigails, and the melting-pot of the silversmith, those neglected +<i>cimelia</i>, for the benefit of antiquaries and the decoration of +side-tables! But who shall presume to place them there, unless under the +direction of female taste? and of that Mr. Mowbray, though possessed of +a large stock of such treasures, was for the present entirely deprived.</p> + +<p>This digression upon his difficulties is already too long, or I might +mention the Laird's inexperience in the art of making the worse appear +the better garnishment, of hiding a darned carpet with a new +floor-cloth, and flinging an Indian shawl over a faded and threadbare +sofa. But I have said enough, and more than enough, to explain his +dilemma to an unassisted bachelor, who, without mother, sister, or +cousin, without skilful housekeeper, or experienced clerk of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_154" id="vol_i_Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> +kitchen, or valet of parts and figure, adventures to give an +entertainment, and aspires to make it elegant and <i>comme il faut</i>.</p> + +<p>The sense of his insufficiency was the more vexatious to Mowbray, as he +was aware he would find sharp critics in the ladies, and particularly in +his constant rival, Lady Penelope Penfeather. He was, therefore, +incessant in his exertions; and for two whole days ordered and +disordered, demanded, commanded, countermanded, and reprimanded, without +pause or cessation. The companion, for he could not be termed an +assistant, of his labours, was his trusty agent, who trotted from room +to room after him, affording him exactly the same degree of sympathy +which a dog doth to his master when distressed in mind, by looking in +his face from time to time with a piteous gaze, as if to assure him that +he partakes of his trouble, though he neither comprehends the cause or +the extent of it, nor has in the slightest degree the power to remove +it.</p> + +<p>At length when Mowbray had got some matters arranged to his mind, and +abandoned a great many which he would willingly have put in better +order, he sat down to dinner upon the Wednesday preceding the appointed +day, with his worthy aide-de-camp, Mr. Meiklewham; and after bestowing a +few muttered curses upon the whole concern, and the fantastic old maid +who had brought him into the scrape, by begging an invitation, declared +that all things might now go to the devil their own way, for so sure as +his name was John Mowbray, he would trouble himself no more about them.</p> + +<p>Keeping this doughty resolution, he sat down to dinner with his counsel +learned in the law; and speedily they dispatched the dish of chops which +was set before them, and the better part of the bottle of old port, +which served for its menstruum.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_155" id="vol_i_Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span></p> + +<p>“We are well enough now,” said Mowbray, “though we have had none of +their d——d kickshaws.”</p> + +<p>“A wamefou' is a wamefou',” said the writer, swabbing his greasy chops, +“whether it be of the barleymeal or the bran.”</p> + +<p>“A cart-horse thinks so,” said Mowbray; “but we must do as others do, +and gentlemen and ladies are of a different opinion.”</p> + +<p>“The waur for themselves and the country baith, St. Ronan's—it's the +jinketing and the jirbling wi' tea and wi' trumpery that brings our +nobles to nine-pence, and mony a het ha'-house to a hired lodging in the +Abbey.”</p> + +<p>The young gentleman paused for a few minutes—filled a bumper, and +pushed the bottle to the senior—then said abruptly, “Do you believe in +luck, Mick?”</p> + +<p>“In luck?” answered the attorney; “what do you mean by the question?”</p> + +<p>“Why, because I believe in luck myself—in a good or bad run of luck at +cards.”</p> + +<p>“You wad have mair luck the day, if you had never touched them,” replied +his confident.</p> + +<p>“That is not the question now,” said Mowbray; “but what I wonder at is +the wretched chance that has attended us miserable Lairds of St. Ronan's +for more than a hundred years, that we have always been getting worse in +the world, and never better. Never has there been such a backsliding +generation, as the parson would say—half the country once belonged to +my ancestors, and now the last furrows of it seem to be flying.”</p> + +<p>“Fle<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_156" id="vol_i_Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span>eing!” said the writer, “they are barking and fleeing baith.—This +Shaws-Castle here, I'se warrant it flee up the chimney after the rest, +were it not weel fastened down with your grandfather's tailzie.”</p> + +<p>“Damn the tailzie!” said Mowbray; “if they had meant to keep up their +estate, they should have entailed it when it was worth keeping: to tie a +man down to such an insignificant thing as St. Ronan's, is like +tethering a horse on six roods of a Highland moor.”</p> + +<p>“Ye have broke weel in on the mailing by your feus down at the Well,” +said Meiklewham, “and raxed ower the tether maybe a wee bit farther than +ye had ony right to do.”</p> + +<p>“It was by your advice, was it not?” said the Laird.</p> + +<p>“I'se ne'er deny it, St. Ronan's,” answered the writer; “but I am such a +gude-natured guse, that I just set about pleasing you as an auld wife +pleases a bairn.”</p> + +<p>“Ay,” said the man of pleasure, “when she reaches it a knife to cut its +own fingers with.—These acres would have been safe enough, if it had +not been for your d——d advice.”</p> + +<p>“And yet you were grumbling e'en now,” said the man of business, “that +you have not the power to gar the whole estate flee like a wild-duck +across a bog? Troth, you need care little about it; for if you have +incurred an irritancy—and sae thinks Mr. Wisebehind, the advocate, upon +an A. B. memorial that I laid before him—your sister, or your sister's +goodman, if she should take the fancy to marry, might bring a +declarator, and evict St. Ronan's frae ye in the course of twa or three +sessions.”</p> + +<p>“My sister will never marry,” said John Mowbra<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_157" id="vol_i_Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span>y.</p> + +<p>“That's easily said,” replied the writer; “but as broken a ship's come +to land. If ony body kend o' the chance she has o' the estate, there's +mony a weel-doing man would think little of the bee in her bonnet.”</p> + +<p>“Harkye, Mr. Meiklewham,” said the Laird, “I will be obliged to you if +you will speak of Miss Mowbray with the respect due to her father's +daughter, and my sister.”</p> + +<p>“Nae offence, St. Ronan's, nae offence,” answered the man of law; “but +ilka man maun speak sae as to be understood,—that is, when he speaks +about business. Ye ken yoursell, that Miss Clara is no just like other +folk; and were I you—it's my duty to speak plain—I wad e'en gie in a +bit scroll of a petition to the Lords, to be appointed Curator Bonis, in +respect of her incapacity to manage her own affairs.”</p> + +<p>“Meiklewham,” said Mowbray, “you are a”——and then stopped short.</p> + +<p>“What am I, Mr. Mowbray?” said Meiklewham, somewhat sternly—“What am I? +I wad be glad to ken what I am.”</p> + +<p>“A very good lawyer, I dare say,” replied St. Ronan's, who was too much +in the power of his agent to give way to his first impulse. “But I must +tell you, that rather than take such a measure against poor Clara, as +you recommend, I would give her up the estate, and become an ostler or a +postilion for the rest of my life.”</p> + +<p>“Ah, St. Ronan's,” said the man of law, “if you had wished to keep up +the auld house, you should have taken another trade, than to become an +ostler <span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_158" id="vol_i_Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span>or a postilion. What ailed you, man, but to have been a lawyer as +weel as other folk? My auld Maister had a wee bit Latin about <i>rerum +dominos gentemque togatam</i>, whilk signified, he said, that all lairds +should be lawyers.”</p> + +<p>“All lawyers are likely to become lairds, I think,” replied Mowbray; +“they purchase our acres by the thousand, and pay us, according to the +old story, with a multiplepoinding, as your learned friends call it, Mr. +Meiklewham.”</p> + +<p>“Weel—and mightna you have purchased as weel as other folk?”</p> + +<p>“Not I,” replied the Laird; “I have no turn for that service, I should +only have wasted bombazine on my shoulders, and flour upon my +three-tailed wig—should but have lounged away my mornings in the +Outer-House, and my evenings at the play-house, and acquired no more law +than what would have made me a wise justice at a Small-debt Court.”</p> + +<p>“If you gained little, you would have lost as little,” said Meiklewham; +“and albeit ye were nae great gun at the bar, ye might aye have gotten a +Sheriffdom, or a Commissaryship, amang the lave, to keep the banes +green; and sae ye might have saved your estate from deteriorating, if ye +didna mend it muckle.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, but I could not have had the chance of doubling it, as I might +have done,” answered Mowbray, “had that inconstant jade, Fortune, but +stood a moment faithful to me. I tell you, Mick, that I have been, +within this twelvemonth, worth a hundred thousand—worth fifty +thousand—worth nothing, but the remnant of this wretched estate, which +is too little to do one good while it is mine, though, were it sold, I +could start again, and mend my hand a little.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_159" id="vol_i_Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Ay, ay, just fling the helve after the hatchet,” said his legal +adviser—“that's a' you think of. What signifies winning a hundred +thousand pounds, if you win them to lose them a' again?”</p> + +<p>“What signifies it?” replied Mowbray. “Why, it signifies as much to a +man of spirit, as having won a battle signifies to a general—no matter +that he is beaten afterwards in his turn, he knows there is luck for him +as well as others, and so he has spirit to try it again. Here is the +young Earl of Etherington will be amongst us in a day or two—they say +he is up to every thing—if I had but five hundred to begin with, I +should be soon up to him.”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Mowbray,” said Meiklewham, “I am sorry for ye. I have been your +house's man-of-business—I may say, in some measure, your house's +servant—and now I am to see an end of it all, and just by the lad that +I thought maist likely to set it up again better than ever; for, to do +ye justice, you have aye had an ee to your ain interest, sae far as your +lights gaed. It brings tears into my auld een.”</p> + +<p>“Never weep for the matter, Mick,” answered Mowbray; “some of it will +stick, my old boy, in your pockets, if not in mine—your service will +not be altogether gratuitous, my old friend—the labourer is worthy of +his hire.”</p> + +<p>“Weel I wot is he,” said the writer; “but double fees would hardly carry +folk through some wark. But if ye will have siller, ye maun have +siller—but, I warrant, it goes just where the rest gaed.”</p> + +<p>“No, by twenty devils!” exclaimed Mowbray, “to f<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_160" id="vol_i_Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span>ail this time is +impossible—Jack Wolverine was too strong for Etherington at any thing +he could name; and I can beat Wolverine from the Land's-End to Johnnie +Groat's—but there must be something to go upon—the blunt must be had, +Mick.”</p> + +<p>“Very likely—nae doubt—that is always provided it <i>can</i> be had,” +answered the legal adviser.</p> + +<p>“That's your business, my old cock,” said Mowbray. “This youngster will +be here perhaps to-morrow, with money in both pockets—he takes up his +rents as he comes down, Mick—think of that, my old friend.”</p> + +<p>“Weel for them that have rents to take up,” said Meiklewham; “ours are +lying rather ower low to be lifted at present.—But are you sure this +Earl is a man to mell with?—are you sure ye can win of him, and that if +you do, he can pay his losings, Mr. Mowbray?—because I have kend mony +are come for wool, and gang hame shorn; and though ye are a clever young +gentleman, and I am bound to suppose ye ken as much about life as most +folk, and all that; yet some gate or other ye have aye come off at the +losing hand, as ye have ower much reason to ken this day—howbeit”——</p> + +<p>“O, the devil take your gossip, my dear Mick! If you can give no help, +spare drowning me with your pother.—Why, man, I was a fresh hand—had +my apprentice-fees to pay—and these are no trifles, Mick.—But what of +that?—I am free of the company now, and can trade on my own bottom.”</p> + +<p>“Aweel, aweel, I wish it may be sae,” said Meiklewham.</p> + +<p>“It will be so, and it shall be so, my trusty friend,” replied Mowbray, +cheerily, “so you will but help me to the stock to trade with.”</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_161" id="vol_i_Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span></p> +<p>“The stock?—what d'ye ca' the stock? I ken nae stock that ye have +left.”</p> + +<p>“But <i>you</i> have plenty, my old boy—Come, sell out a few of your three +per cents; I will pay difference—interest—exchange—every thing.”</p> + +<p>“Ay, ay—every thing or naething,” answered Meiklewham; “but as you are +sae very pressing, I hae been thinking—Whan is the siller wanted?”</p> + +<p>“This instant—this day—to-morrow at farthest!” exclaimed the proposed +borrower.</p> + +<p>“Wh—ew!” whistled the lawyer, with a long prolongation of the note; +“the thing is impossible.”</p> + +<p>“It must be, Mick, for all that,” answered Mr. Mowbray, who knew by +experience that <i>impossible</i>, when uttered by his accommodating friend +in this tone, meant only, when interpreted, extremely difficult, and +very expensive.</p> + +<p>“Then it must be by Miss Clara selling her stock, now that ye speak of +stock,” said Meiklewham; “I wonder ye didna think of this before.”</p> + +<p>“I wish you had been dumb rather than that you had mentioned it now,” +said Mowbray, starting, as if stung by an adder—“What, Clara's +pittance!—the trifle my aunt left her for her own fanciful +expenses—her own little private store, that she puts to so many good +purposes—Poor Clara, that has so little!—And why not rather your own, +Master Meiklewham, who call yourself the friend and servant of our +family?”</p> + +<p>“Ay, St. Ronan's,” answered Meiklewham, “that is a' very true—but +service is nae inheritance; and as for friendship, it begins at hame, as +wise folk have said lang before our time. And for that matter, I <span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_162" id="vol_i_Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span>think +they that are nearest sib should take maist risk. You are nearer and +dearer to your sister, St. Ronan's, than you are to poor Saunders +Meiklewham, that hasna sae muckle gentle blood as would supper up an +hungry flea.”</p> + +<p>“I will not do this,” said St. Ronan's, walking up and down with much +agitation; for, selfish as he was, he loved his sister, and loved her +the more on account of those peculiarities which rendered his protection +indispensable to her comfortable existence—“I will not,” he said, +“pillage her, come on't what will. I will rather go a volunteer to the +continent, and die like a gentleman.”</p> + +<p>He continued to pace the room in a moody silence, which began to disturb +his companion, who had not been hitherto accustomed to see his patron +take matters so deeply. At length he made an attempt to attract the +attention of the silent and sullen ponderer.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Mowbray”—no answer—“I was saying, St. Ronan's”—still no reply. +“I have been thinking about this matter—and”——</p> + +<p>“And <i>what</i>, sir?” said St. Ronan's, stopping short, and speaking in a +stern tone of voice.</p> + +<p>“And, to speak truth, I see little feasibility in the matter ony way; +for if ye had the siller in your pocket to-day, it would be a' in the +Earl of Etherington's the morn.”</p> + +<p>“Pshaw! you are a fool,” answered Mowbray.</p> + +<p>“That is not unlikely,” said Meiklewham; “but so is Sir Bingo Binks, and +yet he's had the better of you, St. Ronan's, this twa or three times.”</p> + +<p>“It is false!—he has not,” answered St. Ronan's, fiercely.</p> + +<p>“Weel I wot,” resumed Meiklewham, “he took you in about the saumon fish, +and some other wager ye lost to him this very day.”</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_163" id="vol_i_Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span></p> +<p>“I tell you once more, Meiklewham, you are a fool, and no more up to my +trim than you are to the longitude.—Bingo is got shy—I must give him +a little line, that is all—then I shall strike him to purpose—I am as +sure of him as I am of the other—I know the fly they will both rise +to—this cursed want of five hundred will do me out of ten thousand!”</p> + +<p>“If you are so certain of being the bangster—so very certain, I mean, +of sweeping stakes,—what harm will Miss Clara come to by your having +the use of her siller? You can make it up to her for the risk ten times +told.”</p> + +<p>“And so I can, by Heaven!” said St. Ronan's. “Mick, you are right, and I +am a scrupulous, chicken-hearted fool. Clara shall have a thousand for +her poor five hundred—she shall, by ——. And I will carry her to +Edinburgh for a season, or perhaps to London, and we will have the best +advice for her case, and the best company to divert her. And if they +think her a little odd—why, d—— me, I am her brother, and will bear +her through it. Yes—yes—you're right; there can be no hurt in +borrowing five hundred of her for a few days, when such profit may be +made on't, both for her and me.—Here, fill the glasses, my old boy, and +drink success to it, for you are right.”</p> + +<p>“Here is success to it, with all my heart,” answered Meiklewham, +heartily glad to see his patron's sanguine temper arrive at this +desirable conclusion, and yet willing to hedge in his own credit; “but +it is <i>you</i> are right, and not <i>me</i>, for I advise nothing except on your +assurances, that you can make your ain of this English ear<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_164" id="vol_i_Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span>l, and of this +Sir Bingo—and if you can but do that, I am sure it would be unwise and +unkind in ony ane of your friends to stand in your light.”</p> + +<p>“True, Mick, true,” answered Mowbray.—“And yet dice and cards are but +bones and pasteboard, and the best horse ever started may slip a +shoulder before he get to the winning-post—and so I wish Clara's +venture had not been in such a bottom.—But, hang it, care killed a +cat—I can hedge as well as any one, if the odds turn up against me—so +let us have the cash, Mick.”</p> + +<p>“Aha! but there go two words to that bargain—the stock stands in my +name, and Tam Turnpenny the banker's, as trustees for Miss Clara—Now, +get you her letter to us, desiring us to sell out and to pay you the +proceeds, and Tam Turnpenny will let you have five hundred pounds +<i>instanter</i>, on the faith of the transaction; for I fancy you would +desire a' the stock to be sold out, and it will produce more than six +hundred, or seven hundred pounds either—and I reckon you will be +selling out the whole—it's needless making twa bites of a cherry.”</p> + +<p>“True,” answered Mowbray; “since we must be rogues, or something like +it, let us make it worth our while at least; so give me a form of the +letter, and Clara shall copy it—that is, if she consents; for you know +she can keep her own opinion as well as any other woman in the world.”</p> + +<p>“And that,” said Meiklewham, “is as the wind will keep its way, preach +to it as ye like. But if I might advise about Miss Clara—I wad say +naething mair than that I was stressed for the penny money; for I +mistake her muckle if she would <span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_165" id="vol_i_Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span>like to see you ganging to pitch and +toss wi' this lord and tither baronet for her aunt's three per cents—I +ken she has some queer notions—she gies away the feck of the dividends +on that very stock in downright charity.”</p> + +<p>“And I am in hazard to rob the poor as well as my sister!” said Mowbray, +filling once more his own glass and his friend's. “Come, Mick, no +sky-lights—here is Clara's health—she is an angel—and I am—what I +will not call myself, and suffer no other man to call me.—But I shall +win this time—I am sure I shall, since Clara's fortune depends upon +it.”</p> + +<p>“Now, I think, on the other hand,” said Meiklewham, “that if any thing +should chance wrang, (and Heaven kens that the best-laid schemes will +gang ajee,) it will be a great comfort to think that the ultimate losers +will only be the poor folk, that have the parish between them and +absolute starvation—if your sister spent her ain siller, it would be a +very different story.”</p> + +<p>“Hush, Mick—for God's sake, hush, mine honest friend,” said Mowbray; +“it is quite true; thou art a rare counsellor in time of need, and hast +as happy a manner of reconciling a man's conscience with his +necessities, as might set up a score of casuists; but beware, my most +zealous counsellor and confessor, how you drive the nail too far—I +promise you some of the chaffing you are at just now rather abates my +pluck.—Well—give me your scroll—I will to C<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_166" id="vol_i_Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span>lara with it—though I +would rather meet the best shot in Britain, with ten paces of green sod +betwixt us.” So saying, he left the apartment.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol_i_CHAPTER_XI" id="vol_i_CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI.</h2> + +<h3>FRATERNAL LOVE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Nearest of blood should still be next in love;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And when I see these happy children playing,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">While William gathers flowers for Ellen's ringlets,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And Ellen dresses flies for William's angle,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I scarce can think, that in advancing life,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Coldness, unkindness, interest, or suspicion,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Will e'er divide that unity so sacred,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Which Nature bound at birth.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="citation"> +<i>Anonymous.</i><br /> +</p> + + + +<p>When Mowbray had left his dangerous adviser, in order to steer the +course which his agent had indicated, without offering to recommend it, +he went to the little parlour which his sister was wont to term her own, +and in which she spent great part of her time. It was fitted up with a +sort of fanciful neatness; and in its perfect arrangement and good +order, formed a strong contrast to the other apartments of the old and +neglected mansion-house. A number of little articles lay on the +work-table, indicating the elegant, and, at the same time, the unsettled +turn of the inhabitant's mind. There were unfinished drawings, blotted +music, needlework of various kinds, and many other little<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_167" id="vol_i_Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> female tasks; +all undertaken with zeal, and so far prosecuted with art and elegance, +but all flung aside before any one of them was completed.</p> + +<p>Clara herself sat upon a little low couch by the window, reading, or at +least turning over the leaves of a book, in which she seemed to read. +But instantly starting up when she saw her brother, she ran towards him +with the most cordial cheerfulness.</p> + +<p>“Welcome, welcome, my dear John; this is very kind of you to come to +visit your recluse sister. I have been trying to nail my eyes and my +understanding to a stupid book here, because they say too much thought +is not quite good for me. But, either the man's dulness, or my want of +the power of attending, makes my eyes pass over the page, just as one +seems to read in a dream, without being able to comprehend one word of +the matter. You shall talk to me, and that will do better. What can I +give you to show that you are welcome? I am afraid tea is all I have to +offer, and that you set too little store by.”</p> + +<p>“I shall be glad of a cup at present,” said Mowbray, “for I wish to +speak with you.”</p> + +<p>“Then Jessy shall make it ready instantly,” said Miss Mowbray, ringing, +and giving orders to her waiting-maid—“but you must not be ungrateful, +John, and plague me with any of the ceremonial for your +fête—‘sufficient for the day is the evil thereof.’ I will attend, and +play my part as prettily as you can desire; but to think of it +beforehand, would make both my head and my heart ache; and so I beg you +will spare me on the subject.”</p> + +<p>“Why, you wild kitten,” said Mowbray, “you turn every day more shy of +human communication—we shal<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_168" id="vol_i_Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span>l have you take the woods one day, and +become as savage as the Princess Caraboo. But I will plague you about +nothing if I can help it. If matters go not smooth on the great day, +they must e'en blame the dull thick head that had no fair lady to help +him in his need. But, Clara, I had something more material to say to +you—something indeed of the last importance.”</p> + +<p>“What is it?” said Clara, in a tone of voice approaching to a +scream—“in the name of God, what is it? You know not how you terrify +me!”</p> + +<p>“Nay, you start at a shadow, Clara,” answered her brother. “It is no +such uncommon matter neither—good faith, it is the most common distress +in the world, so far as I know the world—I am sorely pinched for +money.”</p> + +<p>“Is that all?” replied Clara, in a tone which seemed to her brother as +much to underrate the difficulty, when it was explained, as her fears +had exaggerated it before she heard its nature.</p> + +<p>“Is that all? Indeed it is all, and comprehends a great deal of +vexation. I shall be hard run unless I can get a certain sum of +money—and I must e'en ask you if you can help me?”</p> + +<p>“Help you?” replied Clara; “Yes, with all my heart—but you know my +purse is a light one—more than half of my last dividend is in it, +however, and I am sure, John, I shall be happy if it can serve +you—especially as that will at least show that your wants are but small +ones.”</p> + +<p>“Alas, Clara, if you would help me,” said her brother, half repentant of +his purpose, “you must draw the neck of the goose which lays the golden +eggs—you must lend me the whole stock.”</p> + +<p>“And why not, John,” said the simple-hear<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_169" id="vol_i_Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span>ted girl, “if it will do you a +kindness? Are you not my natural guardian? Are you not a kind one? And +is not my little fortune entirely at your disposal? You will, I am +sure, do all for the best.”</p> + +<p>“I fear I may not,” said Mowbray, starting from her, and more distressed +by her sudden and unsuspicious compliance, than he would have been by +difficulties, or remonstrance. In the latter case, he would have stifled +the pangs of conscience amid the manœuvres which he must have +resorted to for obtaining her acquiescence; as matters stood, there was +all the difference that there is between slaughtering a tame and +unresisting animal, and pursuing wild game, until the animation of the +sportsman's exertions overcomes the internal sense of his own +cruelty.<a name="vol_i_FNanchor_E_28" id="vol_i_FNanchor_E_28"></a><a href="#vol_i_Footnote_E_28" class="fnanchor">[E]</a> The same idea occurred to Mowbray himself.</p> + +<p>“By G—,” he said, “this is like shooting the bird sitting.—Clara,” he +added, “I fear this money will scarce be employed as you would wish.”</p> + +<p>“Employ it as you yourself please, my dearest brother,” she replied, +“and I will believe it is all for the best.”</p> + +<p>“Nay, I am doing for the best,” he replied; “at least, I am doing what +must be done, for I see no other way through it—so all you have to do +is to copy this paper, and bid adieu to bank dividends—for a little +while at least. I trust soon to double this little matter for you, if +Fortune will but stand my friend.”</p> + +<p>“Do not trust to Fortune, John,” said Clara, smiling, though with an +expression of deep melancholy. “Alas! she has never been a friend to our +family—not at least for many a day.”</p> + +<p>“She favours<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_170" id="vol_i_Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> the bold, say my old grammatical exercises,” answered her +brother; “and I must trust her, were she as changeable as a +weathercock.—And yet—if she should jilt me!—What will you do—what +will you say, Clara, if I am unable, contrary to my hope, trust, and +expectation, to repay you this money within a short time?”</p> + +<p>“Do?” replied Clara; “I must do without it, you know; and for saying, I +will not say a word.”</p> + +<p>“True,” replied Mowbray, “but your little expenses—your charities—your +halt and blind—your round of paupers?”</p> + +<p>“Well, I can manage all that too. Look you here, John, how many +half-worked trifles there are. The needle or the pencil is the resource +of all distressed heroines, you know; and I promise you, though I have +been a little idle and unsettled of late, yet, when I do set about it, +no Emmeline or Ethelinde of them all ever sent such loads of trumpery to +market as I shall, or made such wealth as I will do. I dare say Lady +Penelope, and all the gentry at the Well, will purchase, and will +raffle, and do all sort of things to encourage the pensive performer. I +will send them such lots of landscapes with sap-green trees, and +mazareen-blue rivers, and portraits that will terrify the originals +themselves—and handkerchiefs and turbans, with needlework scallopped +exactly like the walks on the Belvidere—Why, I shall become a little +fortune in the first season.”</p> + +<p>“No, Clara,” said John, gravely, for a virtuous resolution had gained +the upperhand in his bosom, while his sister ran on in this manner,—“We +will do something better than all this. If this kind help of yours does +not fetch me through, I am determined I will cut <span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_171" id="vol_i_Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span>the whole concern. It +is but standing a laugh or two, and hearing a gay fellow say, D—— me, +Jack, are you turned clodhopper at last?—that is the worst. Dogs, +horses, and all, shall go to the hammer; we will keep nothing but your +pony, and I will trust to a pair of excellent legs. There is enough left +of the old acres to keep us in the way you like best, and that I will +learn to like. I will work in the garden, and work in the forest, mark +my own trees, and cut them myself, keep my own accounts, and send +Saunders Meiklewham to the devil.”</p> + +<p>“That last is the best resolution of all, John,” said Clara; “and if +such a day should come round, I should be the happiest of living +creatures—I should not have a grief left in the world—if I had, you +should never see or hear of it—it should lie here,” she said, pressing +her hand on her bosom, “buried as deep as a funereal urn in a cold +sepulchre. Oh! could we not begin such a life to-morrow? If it is +absolutely necessary that this trifle of money should be got rid of +first, throw it into the river, and think you have lost it amongst +gamblers and horse-jockeys.”</p> + +<p>Clara's eyes, which she fondly fixed on her brother's face, glowed +through the tears which her enthusiasm called into them, while she thus +addressed him. Mowbray, on his part, kept his looks fixed on the ground, +with a flush on his cheek, that expressed at once false pride and real +shame.</p> + +<p>At length he looked up:—“My dear girl,” he said, “how foolishly you +talk, and how foolishly I, that have twenty things to do, stand here +listening to you! All will go smooth on <i>my</i> plan—if it should not, we +have yours in reserve, and I swear to you I will<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_172" id="vol_i_Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> adopt it. The trifle +which this letter of yours enables me to command, may have luck in it, +and we must not throw up the cards while we have a chance of the +game.—Were I to cut from this moment, these few hundreds would make us +little better or little worse—so you see we have two strings to our +bow. Luck is sometimes against me, that is true—but upon true +principle, and playing on the square, I can manage the best of them, or +my name is not Mowbray. Adieu, my dearest Clara.” So saying, he kissed +her cheek with a more than usual degree of affection.</p> + +<p>Ere he could raise himself from his stooping posture, she threw her arm +kindly over his neck, and said with a tone of the deepest interest, “My +dearest brother, your slightest wish has been, and ever shall be, a law +to me—Oh! if you would but grant me one request in return!”</p> + +<p>“What is it, you silly girl?” said Mowbray, gently disengaging himself +from her hold.—“What is it you can have to ask that needs such a solemn +preface?—Remember, I hate prefaces; and when I happen to open a book, +always skip them.”</p> + +<p>“Without preface, then, my dearest brother, will you, for my sake, avoid +those quarrels in which the people yonder are eternally engaged? I never +go down there but I hear of some new brawl; and I never lay my head down +to sleep, but I dream that you are the victim of it. Even last +night”——</p> + +<p>“Nay, Clara, if you begin to tell your dreams, we shall never have done. +Sleeping, to be sure, is the most serious employment of your life—for +as to eating, you hardly match a sparrow; but I entreat you to sleep +without dreaming, or to keep your visions to yourself.—Why do you keep +such fast hold o<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_173" id="vol_i_Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span>f me?—What on earth can you be afraid of?—Surely you +do not think the blockhead Binks, or any other of the good folks below +yonder, dared to turn on me? Egad, I wish they would pluck up a little +mettle, that I might have an excuse for drilling them. Gad, I would soon +teach them to follow at heel.”</p> + +<p>“No, John,” replied his sister; “it is not of such men as these that I +have any fear—and yet, cowards are sometimes driven to desperation, and +become more dangerous than better men—but it is not such as these that +I fear. But there are men in the world whose qualities are beyond their +seeming—whose spirit and courage lie hidden, like metals in the mine, +under an unmarked or a plain exterior.—You may meet with such—you are +rash and headlong, and apt to exercise your wit without always weighing +consequences, and thus”——</p> + +<p>“On my word, Clara,” answered Mowbray, “you are in a most sermonizing +humour this morning! the parson himself could not have been more logical +or profound. You have only to divide your discourse into heads, and +garnish it with conclusions for use, and conclusions for doctrine, and +it might be preached before a whole presbytery, with every chance of +instruction and edification. But I am a man of the world, my little +Clara; and though I wish to go in death's way as little as possible, I +must not fear the raw-head and bloody-bones neither.—And who the devil +is to put the question to me?—I must know that, Clara, for you have +some especial person in your eye when you bid me take care of +quarrelling.”</p> + +<p>Clara could not become paler than was her usual complexion; but her +voice faltered as she eagerly assured her brother, that she had no +particular person in her thoughts.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_174" id="vol_i_Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Clara,” said her brother, “do you remember, when there was a report of +a bogle<a name="vol_i_FNanchor_17_17" id="vol_i_FNanchor_17_17"></a><a href="#vol_i_Footnote_17_17" class="fnanchor">[17]</a> in the upper orchard, when we were both children?—Do you +remember how you were perpetually telling me to take care of the bogle, +and keep away from its haunts?—And do you remember my going on purpose +to detect the bogle, finding the cow-boy, with a shirt about him, busied +in pulling pears, and treating him to a handsome drubbing?—I am the +same Jack Mowbray still, as ready to face danger, and unmask imposition; +and your fears, Clara, will only make me watch more closely, till I find +out the real object of them. If you warn me of quarrelling with some +one, it must be because you know some one who is not unlikely to quarrel +with me. You are a flighty and fanciful girl, but you have sense enough +not to trouble either yourself or me on a point of honour, save when +there is some good reason for it.”</p> + +<p>Clara once more protested, and it was with the deepest anxiety to be +believed, that what she had said arose only out of the general +consequences which she apprehended from the line of conduct her brother +had adopted, and which, in her apprehension, was so likely to engage him +in the broils that divided the good company at the Spring. Mowbray +listened to her explanation with an air of doubt, or rather incredulity, +sipped a cup of tea which had for some time been placed before him, and +at length replied, “Well, Clara, whether I am right or wrong in my +guess, it would be cruel to torment you any more, remembering what you +have just done for me. But do justice to your brother, and believe, th<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_175" id="vol_i_Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span>at +when you have any thing to ask of him, an explicit declaration of your +wishes will answer your purpose much better than any ingenious oblique +attempts to influence me. Give up all thoughts of such, my dear +Clara—you are but a poor manœuvrer, but were you the very Machiavel +of your sex, you should not turn the flank of John Mowbray.”</p> + +<p>He left the room as he spoke, and did not return, though his sister +twice called upon him. It is true that she uttered the word brother so +faintly, that perhaps the sound did not reach his ears.—“He is gone,” +she said, “and I have had no power to speak out! I am like the wretched +creatures, who, it is said, lie under a potent charm, that prevents them +alike from sheddi<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_176" id="vol_i_Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span>ng tears and from confessing their crimes—Yes, there +is a spell on this unhappy heart, and either that must be dissolved, or +this must break.”</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol_i_CHAPTER_XII" id="vol_i_CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII.</h2> + +<h3>THE CHALLENGE.</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>A slight note I have about me, for the delivery of which you must +excuse me. It is an office which friendship calls upon me to do, +and no way offensive to you, as I desire nothing but right on both +sides.</p></div> + +<p class="citation"> +<i>King and No King.</i><br /> +</p> + + +<p>The intelligent reader may recollect, that Tyrrel departed from the Fox +Hotel on terms not altogether so friendly towards the company as those +under which he entered it. Indeed, it occurred to him, that he might +probably have heard something farther on the subject, though, amidst +matters of deeper and more anxious consideration, the idea only passed +hastily through his mind; and two days having gone over without any +message from Sir Bingo Binks, the whole affair glided entirely out of +his memory.</p> + +<p>The truth was, that although never old woman took more trouble to +collect and blow up with her bellows the embers of her decayed fire, +than Captain MacTurk kindly underwent for the purpose of puffing into a +flame the dying sparkles of the Baronet's courage; yet two days were +spent in fruitless conferences before he could attain the desired point. +He found Sir Bingo on these different occasion<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_177" id="vol_i_Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span>s in all sorts of +different moods of mind, and disposed to view the thing in all shades of +light, except what the Captain thought was the true one.—He was in a +drunken humour—in a sullen humour—in a thoughtless and vilipending +humour—in every humour but a fighting one. And when Captain MacTurk +talked of the reputation of the company at the Well, Sir Bingo pretended +to take offence, said the company might go to the devil, and hinted that +he “did them sufficient honour by gracing them with his countenance, but +did not mean to constitute them any judges of his affairs. The fellow +was a raff, and he would have nothing to do with him.”</p> + +<p>Captain MacTurk would willingly have taken measures against the Baronet +himself, as in a state of contumacy, but was opposed by Winterblossom +and other members of the committee, who considered Sir Bingo as too +important and illustrious a member of their society to be rashly +expelled from a place not honoured by the residence of many persons of +rank; and finally insisted that nothing should be done in the matter +without the advice of Mowbray, whose preparations for his solemn +festival on the following Thursday had so much occupied him, that he had +not lately appeared at the Well.</p> + +<p>In the meanwhile, the gallant Captain seemed to experience as much +distress of mind, as if some stain had lain on his own most unblemished +of reputations. He went up and down upon the points of his toes, rising +up on his instep with a jerk which at once expressed vexation and +defiance—He carried his nose turned up in the air, like that of a pig +when he snuffs the approaching storm—He spoke in<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_178" id="vol_i_Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> monosyllables when he +spoke at all; and—what perhaps illustrated in the strongest manner the +depth of his feelings—he refused, in face of the whole company, to +pledge Sir Bingo in a glass of the Baronet's peculiar cogniac.</p> + +<p>At length, the whole Well was alarmed by the report brought by a smart +outrider, that the young Earl of Etherington, reported to be rising on +the horizon of fashion as a star of the first magnitude, intended to +pass an hour, or a day, or a week, as it might happen, (for his lordship +could not be supposed to know his own mind,) at St. Ronan's Well.</p> + +<p>This suddenly put all in motion. Almanacks were opened to ascertain his +lordship's age, enquiries were made concerning the extent of his +fortune, his habits were quoted, his tastes were guessed at; and all +that the ingenuity of the Managing Committee could devise was resorted +to, in order to recommend their Spa to this favourite of fortune. An +express was dispatched to Shaws-Castle with the agreeable intelligence, +which fired the train of hope that led to Mowbray's appropriation of his +sister's capital. He did not, however, think proper to obey the summons +to the Spring; for, not being aware in what light the Earl might regard +the worthies there assembled, he did not desire to be found by his +lordship in any strict connexion with them.</p> + +<p>Sir Bingo Binks was in a different situation. The bravery with which he +had endured the censure of the place began to give way, when he +considered that a person of such distinction as that which public +opinion attached to Lord Etherington, should find him bodily indeed at +St. Ronan's, but, so far as society was concerned, on the road towards +the ancient cit<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_179" id="vol_i_Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span>y of Coventry; and his banishment thither, incurred by +that most unpardonable offence in modern morality, a solecism in the +code of honour. Though sluggish and inert when called to action, the +Baronet was by no means an absolute coward; or, if so, he was of that +class which fights when reduced to extremity. He manfully sent for +Captain MacTurk, who waited upon him with a grave solemnity of aspect, +which instantly was exchanged for a radiant joy, when Sir Bingo, in a +few words, empowered him to carry a message to that d——d strolling +artist, by whom he had been insulted three days since.</p> + +<p>“By Cot,” said the Captain, “my exceedingly goot and excellent friend, +and I am happy to do such a favour for you! And it's well you have +thought of it yourself; because, if it had not been for some of our very +goot and excellent friends, that would be putting their spoon into other +folk's dish, I should have been asking you a civil question myself, how +you came to dine with us, with all that mud and mire which Mr. Tyrrel's +grasp has left upon the collar of your coat—you understand me.—But it +is much better as it is, and I will go to the man with all the speed of +light; and though, to be sure, it should have been sooner thought of, +yet let me alone to make an excuse for that, just in my own civil +way—better late thrive than never do well, you know, Sir Bingo; and if +you have made him wait a little while for his morning, you must give him +the better measure, my darling.”</p> + +<p>So saying, he awaited no reply, lest peradventure the commission with +which he was so hastily and unexpectedly charged, should have been +clogged with some condition of compromise. No such proposal, ho<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_180" id="vol_i_Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span>wever, +was made on the part of the doughty Sir Bingo, who eyed his friend as he +hastily snatched up his rattan to depart, with a dogged look of +obstinacy, expressive, to use his own phrase, of a determined resolution +to come up to the scratch; and when he heard the Captain's parting +footsteps, and saw the door shut behind him, he valiantly whistled a few +bars of Jenny Sutton, in token he cared not a farthing how the matter +was to end.</p> + +<p>With a swifter pace than his half-pay leisure usually encouraged, or +than his habitual dignity permitted, Captain MacTurk cleared the ground +betwixt the Spring and its gay vicinity, and the ruins of the Aultoun, +where reigned our friend Meg Dods, the sole assertor of its ancient +dignities. To the door of the Cleikum Inn the Captain addressed himself, +as one too much accustomed to war to fear a rough reception; although at +the very first aspect of Meg, who presented her person at the half +opened door, his military experience taught him that his entrance into +the place would, in all probability, be disputed.</p> + +<p>“Is Mr. Tyrrel at home?” was the question; and the answer was conveyed, +by the counter-interrogation, “Wha may ye be that speers?”</p> + +<p>As the most polite reply to this question, and an indulgence, at the +same time, of his own taciturn disposition, the Captain presented to +Luckie Dods the fifth part of an ordinary playing card, much grimed with +snuff, which bore on its blank side his name and quality. But Luckie +Dods rejected the information thus tendered, with contemptuous scorn.</p> + +<p>“Nane of your deil's play-books for me,” said she; “it's an ill world +since sic pr<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_181" id="vol_i_Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span>ick-my-dainty doings came in fashion—It's a poor tongue +that canna tell its ain name, and I'll hae nane of your scarts upon +pasteboard.”</p> + +<p>“I am Captain MacTurk, of the —— regiment,” said the Captain, +disdaining further answer.</p> + +<p>“MacTurk?” repeated Meg, with an emphasis, which induced the owner of +the name to reply, “Yes, honest woman—MacTurk—Hector MacTurk—have you +any objections to my name, goodwife?”</p> + +<p>“Nae objections have I,” answered Meg; “it's e'en an excellent name for +a heathen.—But, Captain MacTurk, since sae it be that ye are a captain, +ye may e'en face about and march your ways hame again, to the tune of +Dumbarton drums; for ye are ganging to have nae speech of Maister Tirl, +or ony lodger of mine.”</p> + +<p>“And wherefore not?” demanded the veteran; “and is this of your own +foolish head, honest woman, or has your lodger left such orders?”</p> + +<p>“Maybe he has and maybe no,” answered Meg, sturdily; “and I ken nae mair +right that ye suld ca' me honest woman, than I have to ca' you honest +man, whilk is as far frae my thoughts as it wad be from heaven's truth.”</p> + +<p>“The woman is deleerit!” said Captain MacTurk; “but coom, coom—a +gentleman is not to be misused in this way when he comes on a +gentleman's business; so make you a bit room on the door-stane, that I +may pass by you, or I will make room for myself, by Cot! to your small +pleasure.”</p> + +<p>And so saying he assumed the air of a man who was about to make good his +passage. But Meg, without deigning farther reply, flourished around her +head the hearth-broom, which she had been employing to its more +legitimate purpose, when disturbed in her housewifery by Captain +MacTurk.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_182" id="vol_i_Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I ken your errand weel eneugh, Captain—and I ken yoursell. Ye are ane +of the folk that gang about yonder setting folk by the lugs, as callants +set their collies to fight. But ye sall come to nae lodger o' mine, let +a-be Maister Tirl, wi' ony sic ungodly errand; for I am ane that will +keep God's peace and the King's within my dwelling.”</p> + +<p>So saying, and in explicit token of her peaceable intentions, she again +flourished her broom.</p> + +<p>The veteran instinctively threw himself under Saint George's guard, and +drew two paces back, exclaiming, “That the woman was either mad, or as +drunk as whisky could make her;” an alternative which afforded Meg so +little satisfaction, that she fairly rushed on her retiring adversary, +and began to use her weapon to fell purpose.</p> + +<p>“Me drunk, ye scandalous blackguard!” (a blow with the broom interposed +as parenthesis,) “me, that am fasting from all but sin and bohea!” +(another whack.)</p> + +<p>The Captain, swearing, exclaiming, and parrying, caught the blows as +they fell, showing much dexterity in single-stick. The people began to +gather; and how long his gallantry might have maintained itself against +the spirit of self-defence and revenge, must be left uncertain, for the +arrival of Tyrrel, returned from a short walk, put a period to the +contest.</p> + +<p>Meg, who had a great respect for her guest, began to feel ashamed of her +own violence, and slunk into the house; observing, however, that she +trewed she had made her hearth-broom and the auld heathen's pow right +weel acquainted. The tran<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_183" id="vol_i_Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span>quillity which ensued upon her departure, gave +Tyrrel an opportunity to ask the Captain, whom he at length recognised, +the meaning of this singular affray, and whether the visit was intended +for him; to which the veteran replied very discomposedly, that “he +should have known that long enough ago, if he had had decent people to +open his door, and answer a civil question, instead of a flyting +madwoman, who was worse than an eagle,” he said, “or a mastiff-bitch, or +a she-bear, or any other female beast in the creation.”</p> + +<p>Half suspecting his errand, and desirous to avoid unnecessary notoriety, +Tyrrel, as he showed the Captain to the parlour, which he called his +own, entreated him to excuse the rudeness of his landlady, and to pass +from the topic to that which had procured him the honour of this visit.</p> + +<p>“And you are right, my good Master Tyrrel,” said the Captain, pulling +down the sleeves of his coat, adjusting his handkerchief and +breast-ruffle, and endeavouring to recover the composure of manner +becoming his mission, but still adverting indignantly to the usage he +had received—“By Cot! if she had but been a man, if it were the King +himself—However, Mr. Tyrrel, I am come on a civil errand—and very +civilly I have been treated—the auld bitch should be set in the stocks, +and be tamned!—My friend, Sir Bingo—By Cot! I shall never forget that +woman's insolence—if there be a constable or a cat-o'-nine-tails within +ten miles”——</p> + +<p>“I perceive, Captain,” said Tyrrel, “that you are too much disturbed at +this moment to enter upon the business which has brought you here—if +you will step into my bedroom, and make use of some cold water and a +towel, it will give you the time to compose your<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_184" id="vol_i_Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span>self a little.”</p> + +<p>“I shall do no such thing, Mr. Tyrrel,” answered the Captain, +snappishly; “I do not want to be composed at all, and I do not want to +stay in this house a minute longer than to do my errand to you on my +friend's behalf—And as for this tamned woman Dods”——</p> + +<p>“You will in that case forgive my interrupting you, Captain MacTurk, as +I presume your errand to me can have no reference to this strange +quarrel with my landlady, with which I have nothing to”——</p> + +<p>“And if I thought that it had, sir,” said the Captain, interrupting +Tyrrel in his turn, “you should have given me satisfaction before you +was a quarter of an hour older—Oh, I would give five pounds to the +pretty fellow that would say, Captain MacTurk, the woman did right!”</p> + +<p>“I certainly will not be that person you wish for, Captain,” replied +Tyrrel, “because I really do not know who was in the right or wrong; but +I am certainly sorry that you should have met with ill usage, when your +purpose was to visit me.”</p> + +<p>“Well, sir, if you are concerned,” said the man of peace, snappishly, +“so am I, and there is an end of it.—And touching my errand to you—you +cannot have forgotten that you treated my friend, Sir Bingo Binks, with +singular incivility?”</p> + +<p>“I recollect nothing of the kind, Captain,” replied Tyrrel. “I remember +that the gentleman, so called, took some uncivil liberties in laying +foolish bets concerning me, and that I treated him, from respect to the +rest of the company, and the ladies in particular, with a great degree +of moderation and forbearance.”</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_185" id="vol_i_Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span></p> +<p>“And you must have very fine ideas of forbearance,” replied the Captain, +“when you took my good friend by the collar of the coat, and lifted him +out of your way as if he had been a puppy dog! My good Mr. Tyrrel, I can +assure you he does not think that you have forborne him at all, and he +has no purpose to forbear you; and I must either carry back a sufficient +apology, or you must meet in a quiet way, with a good friend on each +side.—And this was the errand I came on, when this tamned woman, with +the hearth-broom, who is an enemy to all quiet and peaceable +proceedings”——</p> + +<p>“We will forget Mrs. Dods for the present, if you please, Captain +MacTurk,” said Tyrrel—“and, to speak to the present subject, you will +permit me to say, that I think this summons comes a little of the +latest. You know best as a military man, but I have always understood +that such differences are usually settled immediately after they +occur—not that I intend to baulk Sir Bingo's inclinations upon the +score of delay, or any other account.”</p> + +<p>“I dare say you will not—I dare say you will not, Mr. Tyrrel,” answered +the Captain—“I am free to think that you know better what belongs to a +gentleman.—And as to time—look you, my good sir, there are different +sorts of people in this world, as there are different sorts of +fire-arms. There are your hair-trigger'd rifles, that go off just at the +right moment, and in the twinkling of an eye, and that, Mr. Tyrrel, is +your true man of honour;—and there is a sort of person that takes a +thing up too soon, and sometimes backs out of it, like your rubbishy +Birmingham pieces, that will at one time go off at half-cock, and at +another time burn primi<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_186" id="vol_i_Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span>ng without going off at all;—then again pieces +that hang fire—or I should rather say, that are like the matchlocks +which the black fellows use in the East Indies—there must be some +blowing of the match, and so forth, which occasions delay, but the piece +carries true enough after all.”</p> + +<p>“And your friend Sir Bingo's valour is of this last kind, Captain—I +presume that is the inference. I should have thought it more like a +boy's cannon, which is fired by means of a train, and is but a pop-gun +after all.”</p> + +<p>“I cannot allow of such comparisons, sir,” said the Captain; “you will +understand that I come here as Sir Bingo's friend, and a reflection on +him will be an affront to me.”</p> + +<p>“I disclaim all intended offence to you, Captain—I have no wish to +extend the number of my adversaries, or to add to them the name of a +gallant officer like yourself,” replied Tyrrel.</p> + +<p>“You are too obliging, sir,” said the Captain, drawing himself up with +dignity. “By Cot! and that was said very handsomely!—Well, sir, and +shall I not have the pleasure of carrying back any explanation from you +to Sir Bingo?—I assure you it would give me pleasure to make this +matter handsomely up.”</p> + +<p>“To Sir Bingo, Captain MacTurk, I have no apology to offer—I think I +treated him more gently than his impertinence deserved.”</p> + +<p>“Och, Och!” sighed the Captain, with a strong Highland intonation; “then +there is no more to be said, but just to settle time and place; for +pistols I suppose must be the weapons.”</p> + +<p>“All these matters are quite the same to me,” said Tyrrel; “onl<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_187" id="vol_i_Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span>y, in +respect of time, I should wish it to be as speedy as possible.—What say +you to one, afternoon, this very day?—You may name the place.”</p> + +<p>“At one, afternoon,” replied the Captain deliberately, “Sir Bingo will +attend you—the place may be the Buck-stane; for as the whole company go +to the water-side to-day to eat a kettle of fish,<a name="vol_i_FNanchor_18_18" id="vol_i_FNanchor_18_18"></a><a href="#vol_i_Footnote_18_18" class="fnanchor">[18]</a> there will be no +risk of interruption.—And who shall I speak to, my good friend, on your +side of the quarrel?”</p> + +<p>“Really, Captain,” replied Tyrrel, “that is a puzzling question—I have +no friend here—I suppose you could hardly act for both?”</p> + +<p>“It would be totally, absolutely, and altogether out of the question, my +good friend,” replied MacTurk. “But if you will trust to me, I will +bring up a friend on your part from the Well, who, though you have +hardly seen him before, will settle matters for you as well as if you +had been intimate for twenty years—and I will bring up the Doctor too, +if I can get him unloosed from the petticoat of that fat widow Blower, +that he has strung himself upon.”</p> + +<p>“I have no doubt y<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_188" id="vol_i_Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span>ou will do every thing with perfect accuracy, Captain. +At one o'clock, then, we meet at the Buck-stane—Stay, permit me to see +you to the door.”</p> + +<p>“By Cot! and it is not altogether so unnecessary,” said the Captain; +“for the tamned woman with the besom might have some advantage in that +long dark passage, knowing the ground better than I do—tamn her, I will +have amends on her, if there be whipping-post, or ducking-stool, or a +pair of stocks in the parish!” And so saying, the Captain trudged off, +his spirits ever and anon agitated by recollection of the causeless +aggression of Meg Dods, and again composed to a state of happy serenity +by the recollection of the agreeable arrangement which he had made +between Mr. Tyrrel, and his friend Sir Bingo Binks.</p> + +<p>We have heard of men of undoubted benevolence of character and +disposition, whose principal delight was to see a miserable criminal, +degraded alike by his previous crimes, and the sentence which he had +incurred, conclude a vicious and wretched life, by an ignominious and +painful death. It was some such inconsistency of character which induced +honest Captain MacTurk, who had really been a meritorious officer, and +was a good-natured, honourable, and well-intentioned man, to place his +chief delight in setting his friends by the ears, and then acting as +umpire in the dangerous rencontres, which, according to his code of +honour, were absolutely necessary to restore peace and cordiality.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_189" id="vol_i_Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> We +leave the explanation of such anomalies to the labours of craniologists, +for they seem to defy all the researches of the Ethic philosopher.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol_i_CHAPTER_XIII" id="vol_i_CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII.</h2> + +<h3>DISAPPOINTMENT.</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>Evans.</i> I pray you now, good Master Slender's serving-man, and +friend Simple by your name, which way have you looked for Master +Caius?</p> + +<p><i>Slender.</i> Marry, sir, the City-ward, the Park-ward, every way; Old +Windsor way, and every way.</p></div> + +<p class="citation"> +<i>Merry Wives of Windsor.</i><br /> +</p> + + +<p>Sir Bingo Binks received the Captain's communication with the same +dogged sullenness he had displayed at sending the challenge; a most +ungracious <i>humph</i>, ascending, as it were, from the very bottom of his +stomach, through the folds of a Belcher handkerchief, intimating his +acquiescence, in a tone nearly as gracious as that with which the drowsy +traveller acknowledges the intimation of the slipshod ostler, that it is +on the stroke of five, and the horn will sound in a minute. Captain +MacTurk by no means considered this ejaculation as expressing a proper +estimate of his own trouble and services. “Humph?” he replied; “and what +does that mean, Sir Bingo? Have not I here had the trouble to put you +just into the neat road; and would you have been able to make a handsome +affair out of it at all, after you had let it hang so long in the wind, +if I had not <span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_190" id="vol_i_Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span>taken on myself to make it agreeable to the gentleman, and +cooked as neat a mess out of it as I have seen a Frenchman do out of a +stale sprat?”</p> + +<p>Sir Bingo saw it was necessary to mutter some intimation of acquiescence +and acknowledgment, which, however inarticulate, was sufficient to +satisfy the veteran, to whom the adjustment of a personal affair of this +kind was a labour of love, and who now, kindly mindful of his promise to +Tyrrel, hurried away as if he had been about the most charitable action +upon earth, to secure the attendance of some one as a witness on the +stranger's part.</p> + +<p>Mr. Winterblossom was the person whom MacTurk had in his own mind +pitched upon as the fittest person to perform this act of benevolence, +and he lost no time in communicating his wish to that worthy gentleman. +But Mr. Winterblossom, though a man of the world, and well enough +acquainted with such matters, was by no means so passionately addicted +to them as was the man of peace, Captain Hector MacTurk. As a <i>bon +vivant</i>, he hated trouble of any kind, and the shrewd selfishness of his +disposition enabled him to foresee, that a good deal might accrue to all +concerned in the course of this business. He, therefore, coolly replied, +that he knew nothing of Mr. Tyrrel—not even whether he was a gentleman +or not; and besides, he had received no regular application in his +behalf—he did not, therefore, feel himself at all inclined to go to the +field as his second. This refusal drove the poor Captain to despair. He +conjured his friend to be more public-spirited, and entreated him to +consider the reputation of the Well, which was to them as a common +country, and the honour of <span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_191" id="vol_i_Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span>the company to which they both belonged, and +of which Mr. Winterblossom was in a manner the proper representative, as +being, with consent of all, the perpetual president. He reminded him +how many quarrels had been nightly undertaken and departed from on the +ensuing morning, without any suitable consequences—said, “that people +began to talk of the place oddly; and that, for his own part, he found +his own honour so nearly touched, that he had begun to think he himself +would be obliged to bring somebody or other to account, for the general +credit of the Well; and now, just when the most beautiful occasion had +arisen to put every thing on a handsome footing, it was hard—it was +cruel—it was most unjustifiable—in Mr. Winterblossom, to decline so +simple a matter as was requested of him.”</p> + +<p>Dry and taciturn as the Captain was on all ordinary occasions, he +proved, on the present, eloquent and almost pathetic; for the tears came +into his eyes when he recounted the various quarrels which had become +addled, notwithstanding his best endeavours to hatch them into an +honourable meeting; and here was one, at length, just chipping the +shell, like to be smothered, for want of the most ordinary concession on +the part of Winterblossom. In short, that gentleman could not hold out +any longer. “It was,” he said, “a very foolish business, he thought; but +to oblige Sir Bingo and Captain MacTurk, he had no objection to walk +with them about noon as far as the Buck-stane, although he must observe +the day was hazy, and he had felt a prophetic twinge or two, which +looked like a visit of his old acquaintance podagra.”</p> + +<p>“Never mind that, my excellent friend,” said the Capt<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_192" id="vol_i_Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span>ain, “a sup out of +Sir Bingo's flask is like enough to put that to rights; and by my soul, +it is not the thing he is like to leave behind him on this sort of +occasion, unless I be far mistaken in my man.”</p> + +<p>“But,” said Winterblossom, “although I comply with your wishes thus far, +Captain MacTurk, I by no means undertake for certain to back this same +Master Tyrrel, of whom I know nothing at all, but only agree to go to +the place in hopes of preventing mischief.”</p> + +<p>“Never fash your beard about that, Mr. Winterblossom,” replied the +Captain; “for a little mischief, as you call it, is become a thing +absolutely necessary to the credit of the place; and I am sure, whatever +be the consequences, they cannot in the present instance be very fatal +to any body; for here is a young fellow that, if he should have a +misfortune, nobody will miss, for nobody knows him; then there is Sir +Bingo, whom every body knows so well, that they will miss him all the +less.”</p> + +<p>“And there will be Lady Bingo, a wealthy and handsome young widow,” said +Winterblossom, throwing his hat upon his head with the grace and +pretension of former days, and sighing to see, as he looked in the +mirror, how much time, that had whitened his hair, rounded his stomach, +wrinkled his brow, and bent down his shoulders, had disqualified him, as +he expressed it, “for entering for such a plate.”</p> + +<p>Secure of Winterblossom, the Captain's next anxiety was to obtain the +presence of Dr. Quackleben, who, although he wrote himself M.D., did not +by any means decline practice as a surgeon, when any job offered for +which he was likely to be well pa<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_193" id="vol_i_Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span>id, as was warranted in the present +instance, the wealthy baronet being a party principally concerned. The +Doctor, therefore, like the eagle scenting the carnage, seized, at the +first word, the huge volume of morocco leather which formed his case of +portable instruments, and uncoiled before the Captain, with ostentatious +display, its formidable and glittering contents, upon which he began to +lecture as upon a copious and interesting text, until the man of war +thought it necessary to give him a word of caution.</p> + +<p>“Och,” says he, “I do pray you, Doctor, to carry that packet of yours +under the breast of your coat, or in your pocket, or somewhere out of +sight, and by no means to produce or open it before the parties. For +although scalpels, and tourniquets, and pincers, and the like, are very +ingenious implements, and pretty to behold, and are also useful when +time and occasion call for them, yet I have known the sight of them take +away a man's fighting stomach, and so lose their owner a job, Dr. +Quackleben.”</p> + +<p>“By my faith, Captain MacTurk,” said the Doctor, “you speak as if you +were graduated!—I have known these treacherous articles play their +master many a cursed trick. The very sight of my forceps, without the +least effort on my part, once cured an inveterate toothache of three +days' duration, prevented the extraction of a carious molendinar, which +it was the very end of their formation to achieve, and sent me home +minus a guinea.—But hand me that great-coat, Captain, and we will place +the instruments in ambuscade, until they are called into action in due +time. I should think something will happen—Sir Bingo is a sure shot at +a moorcock.”</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_194" id="vol_i_Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span></p> +<p>“Cannot say,” replied MacTurk; “I have known the pistol shake many a +hand that held the fowlingpiece fast enough. Yonder Tyrrel looks like a +teevilish cool customer—I watched him the whole time I was delivering +my errand, and I can promise you he is mettle to the backbone.”</p> + +<p>“Well—I will have my bandages ready <i>secundum artem</i>,” replied the man +of medicine. “We must guard against hæmorrhage—Sir Bingo is a plethoric +subject.—One o'clock, you say—at the Buck-stane—I will be punctual.”</p> + +<p>“Will you not walk with us?” said Captain MacTurk, who seemed willing to +keep his whole convoy together on this occasion, lest, peradventure, any +of them had fled from under his patronage.</p> + +<p>“No,” replied the Doctor, “I must first make an apology to worthy Mrs. +Blower, for I had promised her my arm down to the river-side, where they +are all to eat a kettle of fish.”</p> + +<p>“By Cot! and I hope we shall make them a prettier kettle of fish than +was ever seen at St. Ronan's,” said the Captain, rubbing his hands.</p> + +<p>“Don't say <i>we</i>, Captain,” replied the cautious Doctor; “I for one have +nothing to do with the meeting—wash my hands of it. No, no, I cannot +afford to be clapt up as accessory.—You ask me to meet you at the +Buck-stane—no purpose assigned—I am willing to oblige my worthy +friend, Captain MacTurk—walk that way, thinking of nothing +particular—hear the report of pistols—hasten to the spot—fortunately +just in time to prevent the most fatal consequences—chance most +opportunely to have my case of instruments with me—indeed, generally +walk with them <span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_195" id="vol_i_Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span>about me—<i>nunquam non paratus</i>—then give my +professional definition of the wound and state of the patient. That is +the way to give evidence, Captain, before sheriffs, coroners, and such +sort of folk—never commit one's self—it is a rule of our profession.”</p> + +<p>“Well, well, Doctor,” answered the Captain, “you know your own ways +best; and so you are but there to give a chance of help in case of +accident, all the laws of honour will be fully complied with. But it +would be a foul reflection upon me, as a man of honour, if I did not +take care that there should be somebody to come in thirdsman between +Death and my principal.”</p> + +<p>At the awful hour of one afternoon, there arrived upon the appointed +spot Captain MacTurk, leading to the field the valorous Sir Bingo, not +exactly straining like a greyhound in the slips, but rather looking +moody like a butcher's bull-dog, which knows he must fight since his +master bids him. Yet the Baronet showed no outward flinching or +abatement of courage, excepting, that the tune of Jenny Sutton, which he +had whistled without intermission since he left the Hotel, had, during +the last half mile of their walk, sunk into silence; although, to look +at the muscles of the mouth, projection of the lip, and vacancy of the +eye, it seemed as if the notes were still passing through his mind, and +that he whistled Jenny Sutton in his imagination. Mr. Winterblossom came +two minutes after this happy pair, and the Doctor was equally punctual.</p> + +<p>“Upon my soul,” said the former, “this is a mighty silly affair, Sir +Bingo, and might, I think, be easily taken up, at less risk to all +parties<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_196" id="vol_i_Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> than a meeting of this kind. You should recollect, Sir Bingo, +that you have much depending upon your life—you are a married man, Sir +Bingo.”</p> + +<p>Sir Bingo turned the quid in his mouth, and squirted out the juice in a +most coachman-like manner.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Winterblossom,” said the Captain, “Sir Bingo has in this matter put +himself in my hands, and unless you think yourself more able to direct +his course than I am, I must frankly tell you, that I will be disobliged +by your interference. You may speak to your own friend as much as you +please; and if you find yourself authorized to make any proposal, I +shall be desirous to lend an ear to it on the part of my worthy +principal, Sir Bingo. But I will be plain with you, that I do not +greatly approve of settlements upon the field, though I hope I am a +quiet and peaceable man. But here is our honour to be looked after in +the first place; and moreover, I must insist that every proposal for +accommodation shall originate with your party or yourself.”</p> + +<p>“<i>My</i> party?” answered Winterblossom; “why really, though I came hither +at your request, Captain MacTurk, yet I must see more of the matter, ere +I can fairly pronounce myself second to a man I never saw but once.”</p> + +<p>“And, perhaps, may never see again,” said the Doctor, looking at his +watch; “for it is ten minutes past the hour, and here is no Mr. Tyrrel.”</p> + +<p>“Hey! what's that you say, Doctor?” said the Baronet, awakened from his +apathy.</p> + +<p>“He speaks tamned nonsense,” said the Captain, pulling out a huge, +old-fashioned, turnip-shaped implement, with a blackened silver +dial-plate. “It is not abo<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_197" id="vol_i_Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span>ve three minutes after one by the true time, +and I will uphold Mr. Tyrrel to be a man of his word—never saw a man +take a thing more coolly.”</p> + +<p>“Not more coolly than he takes his walk this way,” said the Doctor; “for +the hour is as I tell you—remember, I am professional—have pulses to +count by the second and half-second—my timepiece must go as true as the +sun.”</p> + +<p>“And I have mounted guard a thousand times by my watch,” said the +Captain; “and I defy the devil to say that Hector MacTurk did not always +discharge his duty to the twentieth part of the fraction of a second—it +was my great grandmother, Lady Killbracklin's, and I will maintain its +reputation against any timepiece that ever went upon wheels.”</p> + +<p>“Well, then, look at your own watch, Captain,” said Winterblossom, “for +time stands still with no man, and while we speak the hour advances. On +my word, I think this Mr. Tyrrel intends to humbug us.”</p> + +<p>“Hey! what's that you say?” said Sir Bingo, once more starting from his +sullen reverie.</p> + +<p>“I shall not look at my watch upon no such matter,” said the Captain; +“nor will I any way be disposed to doubt your friend's honour, Mr. +Winterblossom.”</p> + +<p>“<i>My</i> friend?” said Mr. Winterblossom; “I must tell you once more, +Captain, that this Mr. Tyrrel is no friend of mine—none in the world. +He is your friend, Captain MacTurk; and I own, if he keeps us waiting +much longer on this occasion, I will be apt to consider his friendship +as of very little value.”</p> + +<p>“And how dare you, then, say that the man is my friend?” said the +Captain, knitting his brows in a most form<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_198" id="vol_i_Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span>idable manner.</p> + +<p>“Pooh! pooh! Captain,” answered Winterblossom, coolly, if not +contemptuously—“keep all that for silly boys; I have lived in the world +too long either to provoke quarrels, or to care about them. So, reserve +your fire; it is all thrown away on such an old cock as I am. But I +really wish we knew whether this fellow means to come—twenty minutes +past the hour—I think it is odds that you are bilked, Sir Bingo?”</p> + +<p>“Bilked! hey!” cried Sir Bingo; “by Gad, I always thought so—I wagered +with Mowbray he was a raff—I am had, by Gad. I'll wait no longer than +the half hour, by Gad, were he a field-marshal.”</p> + +<p>“You will be directed in that matter by your friend, if you please, Sir +Bingo,” said the Captain.</p> + +<p>“D—— me if I will,” returned the Baronet—“Friend? a pretty friend, to +bring me out here on such a fool's errand! I knew the fellow was a +raff—but I never thought you, with all your chaff about honour, such a +d——d spoon as to bring a message from a fellow who has fled the pit!”</p> + +<p>“If you regret so much having come here to no purpose,” said the +Captain, in a very lofty tone, “and if you think I have used you like a +spoon, as you say, I will have no objection in life to take Mr. Tyrrel's +place, and serve your occasion, my boy!”</p> + +<p>“By ——! and if you like it, you may fire away, and welcome,” said Sir +Bingo; “and I'll spin a crown for first shot, for I do not understand +being brought here for nothing, d—— me!”</p> + +<p>“And there was never man alive so ready as I am to give you something to +stay your stomach,” said the irritable Highlander.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 800px;"> +<img src="images/illus-1.198.jpg" width="800" height="504" alt="" title="" /> +</div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_199" id="vol_i_Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span></p> +<p>“Oh fie, gentlemen! fie, fie, fie!” exclaimed the pacific Mr. +Winterblossom—“For shame, Captain—Out upon you, Sir Bingo, are you +mad?—what, principal and second!—the like was never heard of—never.”</p> + +<p>The parties were in some degree recalled to their more cool +recollections by this expostulation, yet continued a short quarter-deck +walk to and fro, upon parallel lines, looking at each other sullenly as +they passed, and bristling like two dogs who have a mind to quarrel, yet +hesitate to commence hostilities. During this promenade, also, the +perpendicular and erect carriage of the veteran, rising on his toes at +every step, formed a whimsical contrast with the heavy loutish shuffle +of the bulky Baronet, who had, by dint of practice, very nearly attained +that most enviable of all carriages, the gait of a shambling Yorkshire +ostler. His coarse spirit was now thoroughly kindled, and like iron, or +any other baser metal, which is slow in receiving heat, it retained long +the smouldering and angry spirit of resentment that had originally +brought him to the place, and now rendered him willing to wreak his +uncomfortable feelings upon the nearest object which occurred, since the +first purpose of his coming thither was frustrated. In his own phrase, +his pluck was up, and finding himself in a fighting humour, he thought +it a pity, like Bob Acres, that so much good courage should be thrown +away. As, however, that courage after all consisted chiefly in ill +humour; and as, in the demeanour of the Captain, he read nothing +deferential or deprecatory of his wrath, he began to listen with more +attention to the arguments of Mr. Wint<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_200" id="vol_i_Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span>erblossom, who entreated them not +to sully, by private quarrel, the honour they had that day so happily +acquired without either blood or risk.</p> + +<p>“It was now,” he said, “three quarters of an hour past the time +appointed for this person, who calls himself Tyrrel, to meet Sir Bingo +Binks. Now, instead of standing squabbling here, which serves no +purpose, I propose we should reduce to writing the circumstances which +attend this affair, for the satisfaction of the company at the Well, and +that the memorandum shall be regularly attested by our subscriptions; +after which, I shall farther humbly propose that it be subjected to the +revision of the Committee of Management.”</p> + +<p>“I object to any revision of a statement to which my name shall be +appended,” said the Captain.</p> + +<p>“Right—very true, Captain,” said the complaisant Mr. Winterblossom; +“undoubtedly you know best, and your signature is completely sufficient +to authenticate this transaction—however, as it is the most important +which has occurred since the Spring was established, I propose we shall +all sign the <i>procès-verbal</i>, as I may term it.”</p> + +<p>“Leave me out, if you please,” said the Doctor, not much satisfied that +both the original quarrel and the by-battle had passed over without any +occasion for the offices of a Machaon; “leave me out, if you please; for +it does not become me to be ostensibly concerned in any proceedings, +which have had for their object a breach of the peace. And for the +importance of waiting here for an hour, in a fine afternoon, it is my +opinion there was a more important service done to the Well of St. +Ronan's, when I, Quentin Quackleben, M.D., cured Lady Penelope +Penfeather of her seventh attack upon the nerves, attended with febrile +symptoms.”</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_201" id="vol_i_Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span></p> +<p>“No disparagement to your skill at all, Doctor,” said Mr. Winterblossom; +“but I conceive the lesson which this fellow has received will be a +great means to prevent improper persons from appearing at the Spring +hereafter; and, for my part, I shall move that no one be invited to dine +at the table in future, till his name is regularly entered as a member +of the company, in the lists at the public room. And I hope both Sir +Bingo and the Captain will receive the thanks of the company, for their +spirited conduct in expelling the intruder.—Sir Bingo, will you allow +me to apply to your flask—a little twinge I feel, owing to the dampness +of the grass.”</p> + +<p>Sir Bingo, soothed by the consequence he had acquired, readily imparted +to the invalid a thimbleful of his cordial, which, we believe, had been +prepared by some cunning chemist in the wilds of Glenlivat. He then +filled a bumper, and extended it towards the veteran, as an unequivocal +symptom of reconciliation. The real turbinacious flavour no sooner +reached the nose of the Captain, than the beverage was turned down his +throat with symptoms of most unequivocal applause.</p> + +<p>“I shall have some hope of the young fellows of this day,” he said, “now +that they begin to give up their Dutch and French distilled waters, and +stick to genuine Highland ware. By Cot, it is the only liquor fit for a +gentleman to drink in a morning, if he can have the good fortune to come +by it, you see.”</p> + +<p>“Or after dinner either, Captain,” said the Doctor, to whom the glass +had passed in rotation; “it is worth all the wines in France for +flavour, and more cordial to the system besides.”</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_202" id="vol_i_Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span></p> +<p>“And now,” said the Captain, “that we may not go off the ground with any +thing on our stomachs worse than the whisky, I can afford to say, (as +Captain Hector MacTurk's character is tolerably well established,) that +I am sorry for the little difference that has occurred betwixt me and my +worthy friend, Sir Bingo, here.”</p> + +<p>“And since you are so civil, Captain,” said Sir Bingo, “why, I am sorry +too—only it would put the devil out of temper to lose so fine a fishing +day—wind south—fine air on the pool—water settled from the +flood—just in trim—and I dare say three pairs of hooks have passed +over my cast before this time!”</p> + +<p>He closed this elaborate lamentation with a libation of the same cordial +which he had imparted to his companions; and they returned in a body to +the Hotel, where the transactions of the morning were soon afterwards +announced to the company, by the following program:—</p> + + +<h4>STATEMENT.</h4> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>“Sir Bingo Binks, baronet, having found himself aggrieved by the +uncivil behaviour of an individual calling himself Francis Tyrrel, +now or lately a resident at the Cleikum Inn, Aultoun of St. +Ronan's; and having empowered Captain Hector MacTurk to wait upon +the said Mr. Tyrrel to demand an apology, under the alternative of +personal satisfaction, according to the laws of honour and the +practice of gentlemen, the said Tyrrel voluntarily engaged to meet +the said Sir Bingo Binks, baronet, at the Buck-stane, near St. +Ronan's Burn, upon this present day, being Wednesday —— August. +In consequence of which appointment, we, the undersigned, did +attend at the place named, from one o'clock till two, without +seeing or hearing any thing whatever of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_203" id="vol_i_Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> said Francis Tyrrel, or +any one in his behalf—which fact we make thus publicly known, that +all men, and particularly the distinguished company assembled at +the Fox Hotel, may be duly apprized of the character and behaviour +of the said Francis Tyrrel, in case of his again presuming to +intrude himself into the society of persons of honour.</p> + +<p>“The Fox Inn and Hotel, St. Ronan's Well—August 18—.</p> + +<p style="text-align: right;"> +(Signed)<br /> +“<span class="smcap">Bingo Binks,</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">Hector MacTurk,</span><br /> +<span class="smcap">Philip Winterblossom.</span>”<br /> +</p></div> + +<p>A little lower followed this separate attestation:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>“I, Quentin Quackleben, M.D., F.R.S., D.E., B.L., X.Z., &c. &c., +being called upon to attest what I know in the said matter, do +hereby verify, that being by accident at the Buck-stane, near St. +Ronan's Burn, on this present day, at the hour of one afternoon, +and chancing to remain there for the space of nearly an hour, +conversing with Sir Bingo Binks, Captain MacTurk, and Mr. +Winterblossom, we did not, during that time, see or hear any thing +of or from the person calling himself Francis Tyrrel, whose +presence at that place seemed to be expected by the gentlemen I +have just named.”</p></div> + +<p>This affiche was dated like the former, and certified under the august +hand of Quentin Quackleben, M.D., &c. &c. &c.</p> + +<p>Again, and prefaced by the averment that an improper person had been +lately introduced into the company of St. Ronan's Well, there came forth +a legislative enactment, on the part of the Committee, declaring, “that +no one shall in future be invited to the dinners, or balls, or other +entertainments<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_204" id="vol_i_Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> of the Well, until their names shall be regularly entered +in the books kept for the purpose at the rooms.” Lastly, there was a +vote of thanks to Sir Bingo Binks and Captain MacTurk for their +spirited conduct, and the pains which they had taken to exclude an +improper person from the company at St. Ronan's Well.</p> + +<p>These annunciations speedily became the magnet of the day. All idlers +crowded to peruse them; and it would be endless to notice the “God bless +me's”—the “Lord have a care of us”—the “Saw you ever the like's” of +gossips, any more than the “Dear me's” and “Oh, laa's” of the titupping +misses, and the oaths of the pantalooned or buck-skin'd beaux. The +character of Sir Bingo rose like the stocks at the news of a dispatch +from the Duke of Wellington, and, what was extraordinary, attained some +consequence even in the estimation of his lady. All shook their heads at +the recollection of the unlucky Tyrrel, and found out much in his manner +and address which convinced them that he was but an adventurer and +swindler. A few, however, less partial to the Committee of Management, +(for whenever there is an administration, there will soon arise an +opposition,) whispered among themselves, that, to give the fellow his +due, the man, be he what he would, had only come among them, like the +devil, when he was called for; and honest Dame Blower blessed herself +when she heard o<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_205" id="vol_i_Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span>f such bloodthirsty doings as had been intended, and +“thanked God that honest Doctor Kickherben had come to nae harm amang a' +their nonsense.”</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol_i_CHAPTER_XIV" id="vol_i_CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV.</h2> + +<h3>THE CONSULTATION.</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>Clown.</i> I hope here be proofs.—</p></div> + +<p class="citation"> +<i>Measure for Measure.</i><br /> +</p> + + +<p>The borough of —— lies, as all the world knows, about fourteen miles +distant from St. Ronan's, being the county town of that shire, which, as +described in the Tourist's Guide, numbers among its objects of interest +that gay and popular watering-place, whose fame, no doubt, will be +greatly enhanced by the present annals of its earlier history. As it is +at present unnecessary to be more particular concerning the scene of our +story, we will fill up the blank left in the first name with the +fictitious appellation of Marchthorn, having often found ourselves +embarrassed in the course of a story, by the occurrence of an ugly +hiatus, which we cannot always at first sight fill up, with the proper +reference to the rest of the narrative.</p> + +<p>Marchthorn, then, was an old-fashioned Scottish town, the street of +which, on market-day, showed a reasonable number of stout great-coated +yeomen, bartering or dealing for the various commodities of their farms; +and on other days of the week, only a few forlor<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_206" id="vol_i_Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span>n burghers, crawling +about like half-awakened flies, and watching the town steeple till the +happy sound of twelve strokes from Time's oracle should tell them it +was time to take their meridian dram. The narrow windows of the shops +intimated very imperfectly the miscellaneous contents of the interior, +where every merchant, as the shopkeepers of Marchthorn were termed, +<i>more Scotico</i>, sold every thing that could be thought of. As for +manufactures, there were none, except that of the careful Town-Council, +who were mightily busied in preparing the warp and woof, which, at the +end of every five or six years, the town of Marchthorn contributed, for +the purpose of weaving the fourth or fifth part of a member of +Parliament.</p> + +<p>In such a town, it usually happens, that the Sheriff-clerk, especially +supposing him agent for several lairds of the higher order, is possessed +of one of the best-looking houses; and such was that of Mr. Bindloose. +None of the smartness of the brick-built and brass-hammered mansion of a +southern attorney appeared indeed in this mansion, which was a tall, +thin, grim-looking building, in the centre of the town, with narrow +windows and projecting gables, notched into that sort of descent, called +crow-steps, and having the lower casements defended by stancheons of +iron; for Mr. Bindloose, as frequently happens, kept a branch of one of +the two national banks, which had been lately established in the town of +Marchthorn.</p> + +<p>Towards the door of this tenement, there advanced slowly up the ancient, +but empty streets of this famous borough, a vehicle, which, had it +appeared in Piccadilly, would have furnished unremitted laughter for a +week, and conversation for a twe<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_207" id="vol_i_Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span>lvemonth. It was a two-wheeled vehicle, +which claimed none of the modern appellations of tilbury, tandem, +dennet, or the like; but aspired only to the humble name of that almost +forgotten accommodation, a whiskey; or, according to some authorities, a +tim-whiskey. Green was, or had been, its original colour, and it was +placed sturdily and safely low upon its little old-fashioned wheels, +which bore much less than the usual proportion to the size of the +carriage which they sustained. It had a calash head, which had been +pulled up, in consideration either to the dampness of the morning air, +or to the retiring delicacy of the fair form which, shrouded by leathern +curtains, tenanted this venerable specimen of antediluvian +coach-building.</p> + +<p>But, as this fair and modest dame noway aspired to the skill of a +charioteer, the management of a horse, which seemed as old as the +carriage he drew, was in the exclusive charge of an old fellow in a +postilion's jacket, whose grey hairs escaped on each side of an +old-fashioned velvet jockey-cap, and whose left shoulder was so +considerably elevated above his head, that it seemed, as if, with little +effort, his neck might have been tucked under his arm, like that of a +roasted grouse-cock. This gallant equerry was mounted on a steed as old +as that which toiled betwixt the shafts of the carriage, and which he +guided by a leading rein. Goading one animal with his single spur, and +stimulating the other with his whip, he effected a reasonable trot upon +the causeway, which only terminated when the whiskey stopped at Mr. +Bindloose's door—an event of importance enough to excite the curiosity +of the inhabitants of that and the neighbouring houses. Wheels wer<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_208" id="vol_i_Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span>e laid +aside, needles left sticking in the half-finished seams, and many a +nose, spectacled and unspectacled, was popped out of the adjoining +windows, which had the good fortune to command a view of Mr. Bindloose's +front door. The faces of two or three giggling clerks were visible at +the barred casements of which we have spoken, much amused at the descent +of an old lady from this respectable carriage, whose dress and +appearance might possibly have been fashionable at the time when her +equipage was new. A satin cardinal, lined with grey squirrels' skin, and +a black silk bonnet, trimmed with crape, were garments which did not now +excite the respect, which in their fresher days they had doubtless +commanded. But there was that in the features of the wearer, which would +have commanded Mr. Bindloose's best regard, though it had appeared in +far worse attire; for he beheld the face of an ancient customer, who had +always paid her law expenses with the ready penny, and whose accompt +with the bank was balanced by a very respectable sum at her credit. It +was, indeed, no other than our respected friend, Mrs. Dods of the +Cleikum Inn, St. Ronan's, Aultoun.</p> + +<p>Now her arrival intimated matter of deep import. Meg was a person of all +others most averse to leave her home, where, in her own opinion at +least, nothing went on well without her immediate superintendence. +Limited, therefore, as was her sphere, she remained fixed in the centre +thereof; and few as were her satellites, they were under the necessity +of performing their revolutions around her, while she herself continued +stationary. Saturn, in fact, would be scarce more surprised at a passing +call from the Sun, than Mr. Bindloose at this unexpected <span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_209" id="vol_i_Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span>visit of his +old client. In one breath he rebuked the inquisitive impertinence of his +clerks, in another stimulated his housekeeper, old Hannah—for Mr. +Bindloose was a bluff bachelor—to get tea ready in the green parlour; +and while yet speaking, was at the side of the whiskey, unclasping the +curtains, rolling down the apron, and assisting his old friend to +dismount.</p> + +<p>“The japanned tea-caddie, Hannah—the best bohea—bid Tib kindle a spark +of fire—the morning's damp—Draw in the giggling faces of ye, ye d——d +idle scoundrels, or laugh at your ain toom pouches—it will be lang or +your weeldoing fill them.” This was spoken, as the honest lawyer himself +might have said, <i>in transitu</i>, the rest by the side of the carriage. +“My stars, Mrs. Dods, and is this really your ain sell, <i>in propria +persona</i>?—Wha lookit for you at such a time of day?—Anthony, how's a' +wi' ye, Anthony?—so ye hae taen the road again, Anthony—help us down +wi' the apron, Anthony—that will do.—Lean on me, Mrs. Dods—help your +mistress, Anthony—put the horses in my stable—the lads will give you +the key.—Come away, Mrs. Dods—I am blithe to see you straight your +legs on the causeway of our auld borough again—come in by, and we'll +see to get you some breakfast, for ye hae been asteer early this +morning.”</p> + +<p>“I am a sair trouble to you, Mr. Bindloose,” said the old lady, +accepting the offer of his arm, and accompanying him into the house; “I +am e'en a sair trouble to you, but I could not rest till I had your +advice on something of moment.”</p> + +<p>“Happy will I be to serve you, my gude auld acquaintance,” said the +Clerk; “but sit you down—sit you<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_210" id="vol_i_Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> down—sit you down, Mrs. Dods—meat +and mess never hindered wark. Ye are something overcome wi' your +travel—the spirit canna aye bear through the flesh, Mrs. Dods; ye +should remember that your life is a precious one, and ye should take +care of your health, Mrs. Dods.”</p> + +<p>“My life precious!” exclaimed Meg Dods; “nane o' your whullywhaing, Mr. +Bindloose—Deil ane wad miss the auld girning alewife, Mr. Bindloose, +unless it were here and there a puir body, and maybe the auld +house-tyke, that wadna be sae weel guided, puir fallow.”</p> + +<p>“Fie, fie! Mrs. Dods,” said the Clerk, in a tone of friendly rebuke; “it +vexes an auld friend to hear ye speak of yourself in that respectless +sort of a way; and, as for quitting us, I bless God I have not seen you +look better this half score of years. But maybe you will be thinking of +setting your house in order, which is the act of a carefu' and of a +Christian woman—O! it's an awfu' thing to die intestate, if we had +grace to consider it.”</p> + +<p>“Aweel, I daur say I'll consider that some day soon, Mr. Bindloose; but +that's no my present errand.”</p> + +<p>“Be it what it like, Mrs. Dods, ye are right heartily welcome here, and +we have a' the day to speak of the business in hand—<i>festina lente</i>, +that is the true law language—hooly and fairly, as one may say—ill +treating of business with an empty stomach—and here comes your tea, and +I hope Hannah has made it to your taste.”</p> + +<p>Meg sipped her tea—confessed Hannah's skill in the mysteries of the +Chinese herb—sipped again, then tried to eat a bit of bread and butter, +with very indifferent success; and notwithstanding the lawyer's +compliments to her good looks, seemed in reality, on the point of +becoming ill.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_211" id="vol_i_Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span></p> + +<p>“In the deil's name, what is the matter!” said the lawyer, too well +read in a profession where sharp observation is peculiarly necessary, to +suffer these symptoms of agitation to escape him. “Ay, dame? ye are +taking this business of yours deeper to heart than ever I kend you take +ony thing. Ony o' your banded debtors failed, or like to fail? What +then! cheer ye up—you can afford a little loss, and it canna be ony +great matter, or I would doubtless have heard of it.”</p> + +<p>“In troth, but it <i>is</i> a loss, Mr. Bindloose; and what say ye to the +loss of a friend?”</p> + +<p>This was a possibility which had never entered the lawyer's long list of +calamities, and he was at some loss to conceive what the old lady could +possibly mean by so sentimental a prolusion. But just as he began to +come out with his “Ay, ay, we are all mortal, <i>Vita incerta, mors +certissima!</i>” and two or three more pithy reflections, which he was in +the habit of uttering after funerals, when the will of the deceased was +about to be opened,—just then Mrs. Dods was pleased to become the +expounder of her own oracle.</p> + +<p>“I see how it is, Mr. Bindloose,” she said; “I maun tell my ain ailment, +for you are no likely to guess it; and so, if ye will shut the door, and +see that nane of your giggling callants are listening in the passage, I +will e'en tell you how things stand with me.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Bindloose hastily arose to obey her commands, gave a cautionary +glance into the Bank-office, and saw that his idle apprentices were fast +at their desks—turned the key upon them, as if it were in <span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_212" id="vol_i_Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span>a fit of +absence, and then returned, not a little curious to know what could be +the matter with his old friend; and leaving off all further attempts to +put cases, quietly drew his chair near hers, and awaited her own time to +make her communication.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Bindloose,” said she, “I am no sure that you may mind, about six or +seven years ago, that there were twa daft English callants, lodgers of +mine, that had some trouble from auld St. Ronan's about shooting on the +Springwell-head muirs.”</p> + +<p>“I mind it as weel as yesterday, Mistress,” said the Clerk; “by the same +token you gave me a note for my trouble, (which wasna worth speaking +about,) and bade me no bring in a bill against the puir bairns—ye had +aye a kind heart, Mrs. Dods.”</p> + +<p>“Maybe, and maybe no, Mr. Bindloose—that is just as I find folk.—But +concerning these lads, they baith left the country, and, as I think, in +some ill blude wi' ane another, and now the auldest and the doucest of +the twa came back again about a fortnight sin' syne, and has been my +guest ever since.”</p> + +<p>“Aweel, and I trust he is not at his auld tricks again, goodwife?” +answered the Clerk. “I havena sae muckle to say either wi' the new +Sheriff or the Bench of Justices as I used to hae, Mrs. Dods—and the +Procurator-fiscal is very severe on poaching, being borne out by the new +Association—few of our auld friends of the Killnakelty are able to come +to the sessions now, Mrs. Dods.”</p> + +<p>“The waur for the country, Mr. Bindloose,” replied the old lady—“they +were decent, considerate men, that didna plague a puir herd callant +muckle about a moorfowl or a mawkin, unless<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_213" id="vol_i_Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span> he turned common fowler—Sir +Robert Ringhorse used to say, the herd lads shot as mony gleds and pyots +as they did game.—But new lords new laws—naething but fine and +imprisonment, and the game no a feather the plentier. If I wad hae a +brace or twa of birds in the house, as every body looks for them after +the twelfth—I ken what they are like to cost me—And what for no?—risk +maun be paid for.—There is John Pirner himsell, that has keepit the +muir-side thirty year in spite of a' the lairds in the country, shoots, +he tells me, now-a-days, as if he felt a rape about his neck.”</p> + +<p>“It wasna about ony game business, then, that you wanted advice?” said +Bindloose, who, though somewhat of a digresser himself, made little +allowance for the excursions of others from the subject in hand.</p> + +<p>“Indeed is it no, Mr. Bindloose,” said Meg; “but it is e'en about this +unhappy callant that I spoke to you about.—Ye maun ken I have cleiket a +particular fancy to this lad, Francis Tirl—a fancy that whiles +surprises my very sell, Mr. Bindloose, only that there is nae sin in +it.”</p> + +<p>“None—none in the world, Mrs. Dods,” said the lawyer, thinking at the +same time within his own mind, “Oho! the mist begins to clear up—the +young poacher has hit the mark, I see—winged the old barren grey +hen!—ay, ay,—a marriage-contract, no doubt—but I maun gie her +line.—Ye are a wise woman, Mrs. Dods,” he continued aloud, “and can +doubtless consider the chances and the changes of human affairs.”</p> + +<p>“But I could never have considered what has befallen this puir lad, Mr. +Bindloose,” said Mrs. Dods, “through the malice of wicked men.—He +lived, then, <span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_214" id="vol_i_Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span>at the Cleikum, as I tell you, for mair than a fortnight, +as quiet as a lamb on a lea-rig—a decenter lad never came within my +door—ate and drank eneugh for the gude of the house, and nae mair than +was for his ain gude, whether of body or soul—cleared his bills ilka +Saturday at e'en, as regularly as Saturday came round.”</p> + +<p>“An admirable customer, no doubt, Mrs. Dods,” said the lawyer.</p> + +<p>“Never was the like of him for that matter,” answered the honest dame. +“But to see the malice of men!—some of thae landloupers and gill-flirts +down at the filthy puddle yonder, that they ca' the Waal, had heard of +this puir lad, and the bits of pictures that he made fashion of drawing, +and they maun cuitle him awa doun to the bottle, where mony a bonny +story they had clecked, Mr. Bindloose, baith of Mr. Tirl and of mysell.”</p> + +<p>“A Commissary Court business,” said the writer, going off again upon a +false scent. “I shall trim their jackets for them, Mrs. Dods, if you can +but bring tight evidence of the facts—I will soon bring them to fine +and palinode—I will make them repent meddling with your good name.”</p> + +<p>“My gude name! What the sorrow is the matter wi' my name, Mr. +Bindloose?” said the irritable client. “I think ye hae been at the wee +cappie this morning, for as early as it is—My gude name!—if ony body +touched my gude name, I would neither fash counsel nor commissary—I wad +be down amang them, like a jer-falcon amang a wheen wild-geese, and the +best amang them that dared to say ony thing of Meg Dods by what was +honest and civil, I wad sune see if her cockernonnie was made of her ain +hair or other folk's. <i>My</i> gude name, indeed!”</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_215" id="vol_i_Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span></p> +<p>“Weel, weel, Mrs. Dods, I was mista'en, that's a',” said the writer, “I +was mista'en; and I dare to say you would haud your ain wi' your +neighbours as weel as ony woman in the land—But let us hear now what +the grief is, in one word.”</p> + +<p>“In one word, then, Clerk Bindloose, it is little short of—murder,” +said Meg, in a low tone, as if the very utterance of the word startled +her.</p> + +<p>“Murder! murder, Mrs. Dods?—it cannot be—there is not a word of it in +the Sheriff-office—the Procurator-fiscal kens nothing of it—there +could not be murder in the country, and me not hear of it—for God's +sake, take heed what you say, woman, and dinna get yourself into +trouble.”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Bindloose, I can but speak according to my lights,” said Mrs. Dods; +“you are in a sense a judge in Israel, at least you are one of the +scribes having authority—and I tell you, with a wae and bitter heart, +that this puir callant of mine that was lodging in my house has been +murdered or kidnapped awa amang thae banditti folk down at the New Waal; +and I'll have the law put in force against them, if it should cost me a +hundred pounds.”</p> + +<p>The Clerk stood much astonished at the nature of Meg's accusation, and +the pertinacity with which she seemed disposed to insist upon it.</p> + +<p>“I have this comfort,” she continued, “that whatever has happened, it +has been by no fault of mine, Mr. Bindloose; for weel I wot, before that +bloodthirsty auld half-pay Philistine, MacTurk, got to speech of him, I +clawed his cantle to some purpose with my hearth-besom.—But the poor +simple bairn himsell, that had nae mair knowledge of the wickedness of +human nature than a calf has of a fle<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_216" id="vol_i_Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span>sher's gully, he threepit to see +the auld hardened bloodshedder, and trysted wi' him to meet wi' some of +the gang at an hour certain that same day, and awa he gaed to keep +tryst, but since that hour naebody ever has set een on him.—And the +mansworn villains now want to put a disgrace on him, and say that he +fled the country rather than face them!—a likely story—fled the +country for them!—and leave his bill unsettled—him that was sae +regular—and his portmantle and his fishing-rod and the pencils and +pictures he held sic a wark about!—It's my faithful belief, Mr. +Bindloose—and ye may trust me or no as ye like—that he had some foul +play between the Cleikum and the Buck-stane. I have thought it, and I +have dreamed it, and I will be at the bottom of it, or my name is not +Meg Dods, and that I wad have them a' to reckon on.—Ay, ay, that's +right, Mr. Bindloose, tak out your pen and inkhorn, and let us set about +it to purpose.”</p> + +<p>With considerable difficulty, and at the expense of much +cross-examination, Mr. Bindloose extracted from his client a detailed +account of the proceedings of the company at the Well towards Tyrrel, so +far as they were known to, or suspected by Meg, making notes, as the +examination proceeded, of what appeared to be matter of consequence. +After a moment's consideration, he asked the dame the very natural +question, how she came to be acquainted with the material fact, that a +hostile appointment was made between Captain MacTurk and her lodger, +when, according to her own account, it was made <i>intra parietes</i>, and +<i>remotis testibus</i>?</p> + +<p>“Ay, but we victuallers ken weel eneugh what goes on in our ain houses,” +said Meg—“And what for no?—If ye <i>maun</i> ken a' about it, I e'en +listened through the keyhole of the door<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_217" id="vol_i_Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span>.”</p> + +<p>“And do you say you heard them settle an appointment for a duel?” said +the Clerk; “and did you no take ony measures to hinder mischief, Mrs. +Dods, having such a respect for this lad as you say you have, Mrs. +Dods?—I really wadna have looked for the like o' this at your hands.”</p> + +<p>“In truth, Mr. Bindloose,” said Meg, putting her apron to her eyes, “and +that's what vexes me mair than a' the rest, and ye needna say muckle to +ane whose heart is e'en the sairer that she has been a thought to blame. +But there has been mony a challenge, as they ca' it, passed in my house, +when thae daft lads of the Wildfire Club and the Helter-skelter were +upon their rambles; and they had aye sense eneugh to make it up without +fighting, sae that I really did not apprehend ony thing like +mischief.—And ye maun think, moreover, Mr. Bindloose, that it would +have been an unco thing if a guest, in a decent and creditable public +like mine, was to have cried coward before ony of thae landlouping +blackguards that live down at the hottle yonder.”</p> + +<p>“That is to say, Mrs. Dods, you were desirous your guest should fight +for the honour of your house,” said Bindloose.</p> + +<p>“What for no, Mr. Bindloose?—Isna that kind of fray aye about honour? +and what for should the honour of a substantial, four-nooked, sclated +house of three stories, no be foughten for, as weel as the credit of ony +of these feckless callants that make such a fray about their +reputation?—I promise you my house, the Cleikum, stood in the Auld Town +of St. Ronan's before they were born, and it will stand there after they +are hanged, as I trust some of them are like<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_218" id="vol_i_Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span> to be.”</p> + +<p>“Well, but perhaps your lodger had less zeal for the honour of the +house, and has quietly taken himself out of harm's way,” said Mr. +Bindloose; “for if I understand your story, this meeting never took +place.”</p> + +<p>“Have less zeal!” said Meg, determined to be pleased with no supposition +of her lawyer, “Mr. Bindloose, ye little ken him—I wish ye had seen him +when he was angry!—I dared hardly face him mysell, and there are no +mony folk that I am feared for—Meeting! there was nae meeting, I +trow—they never dared to meet him fairly—but I am sure waur came of it +than ever would have come of a meeting; for Anthony heard twa shots gang +off as he was watering the auld naig down at the burn, and that is not +far frae the footpath that leads to the Buck-stane. I was angry at him +for no making on to see what the matter was, but he thought it was auld +Pirner out wi' the double barrel, and he wasna keen of making himself a +witness, in case he suld have been caa'd on in the Poaching Court.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” said the Sheriff-clerk, “and I dare say he did hear a poacher +fire a couple of shots—nothing more likely. Believe me, Mrs. Dods, your +guest had no fancy for the party Captain MacTurk invited him to—and +being a quiet sort of man, he has just walked away to his own home, if +he has one—I am really sorry you have given yourself the trouble of +this long journey about so simple a matter.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dods remained with her eyes fixed on the ground in a very sullen +and discontented posture, and when she spoke, it was in a tone of +corresponding displeasure.</p> + +<p>“Aw<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_219" id="vol_i_Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span>eel—aweel—live and learn, they say—I thought I had a friend in +you, Mr. Bindloose—I am sure I aye took your part when folk miscaa'd +ye, and said ye were this, that, and the other thing, and little better +than an auld sneck-drawing loon, Mr. Bindloose.—And ye have aye keepit +my penny of money, though, nae doubt, Tam Turnpenny lives nearer me, and +they say he allows half a per cent mair than ye do if the siller lies, +and mine is but seldom steered.”</p> + +<p>“But ye have not the Bank's security, madam,” said Mr. Bindloose, +reddening. “I say harm of nae man's credit—ill would it beseem me—but +there is a difference between Tam Turnpenny and the Bank, I trow.”</p> + +<p>“Weel, weel, Bank here Bank there, I thought I had a friend in you, Mr. +Bindloose; and here am I, come from my ain house all the way to yours +for sma' comfort, I think.”</p> + +<p>“My stars, madam,” said the perplexed scribe, “what would you have me to +do in such a blind story as yours, Mrs. Dods?—Be a thought +reasonable—consider that there is no <i>Corpus delicti</i>.”</p> + +<p><i>“Corpus delicti?</i> and what's that?” said Meg; “something to be paid +for, nae doubt, for your hard words a' end in that.—And what for suld I +no have a Corpus delicti, or a Habeas Corpus, or ony other Corpus that I +like, sae lang as I am willing to lick and lay down the ready siller?”</p> + +<p>“Lord help and pardon us, Mrs. Dods,” said the distressed agent, “ye +mistake the matter a'thegether! When I say there is no Corpus delicti, I +mean to say there is no proof that a crime<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_220" id="vol_i_Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span> has been committed.”<a name="vol_i_FNanchor_19_19" id="vol_i_FNanchor_19_19"></a><a href="#vol_i_Footnote_19_19" class="fnanchor">[19]</a></p> + +<p>“And does the man say that murder is not a crime, than?” answered Meg, +who had taken her own view of the subject far too strongly to be +converted to any other—“Weel I wot it's a crime, baith by the law of +God and man, and mony a pretty man has been strapped for it.”</p> + +<p>“I ken all that very weel,” answered the writer; “but, my stars, Mrs. +Dods, there is nae evidence of murder in this case—nae proof that a man +has been slain—nae production of his dead body—and that is what we +call the Corpus delicti.”</p> + +<p>“Weel, than, the deil lick it out of ye,” said Meg, rising in wrath, +“for I will awa hame again; and as for the puir lad's body, I'll hae it +fund, if it cost me turning the earth for three miles round wi' pick and +shool—if it were but to give the puir bairn Christian burial, and to +bring punishment on MacTurk and the murdering crew at the Waal, and to +shame an auld doited fule like yoursell, John Bindloose.”</p> + +<p>She rose in wrath to call her vehicle; but it was neither the interest +nor the intention of the writer that his customer and he should part on +such indifferent terms. He implored her patience, and reminded her that +the horses, poor things, had just come off their stage—an argument +which sounded irresistible in the ears of the old she-publican, in whose +early education due care of the post-cattle mingled with the most sacred +duties. She therefore resumed her seat again in a sullen mood, and Mr. +Bindloos<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_221" id="vol_i_Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span>e was cudgelling his brains for some argument which might bring +the old lady to reason, when his attention was drawn by a noise in the +passage.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol_i_CHAPTER_XV" id="vol_i_CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV.</h2> + +<h3>A PRAISER OF PAST TIMES.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">——Now your traveller,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He and his toothpick at my worship's mess.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="citation"> +<i>King John.</i><br /> +</p> + + +<p>The noise stated at the conclusion of last chapter to have disturbed Mr. +Bindloose, was the rapping of one, as in haste and impatience, at the +Bank-office door, which office was an apartment of the Banker's house, +on the left hand of his passage, as the parlour in which he had received +Mrs. Dods was upon the right.</p> + +<p>In general, this office was patent to all having business there; but at +present, whatever might be the hurry of the party who knocked, the +clerks within the office could not admit him, being themselves made +prisoners by the prudent jealousy of Mr. Bindloose, to prevent them from +listening to his consultation with Mrs. Dods. They therefore answered +the angry and impatient knocking of the stranger only with stifled +giggling from within, finding it no doubt an excellent joke, that their +master's precaution was thus interfering with their own discharge of +duty.</p> + +<p>With one or two hearty curses upon them, as the regula<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_222" id="vol_i_Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span>r plagues of his +life, Mr. Bindloose darted into the passage, and admitted the stranger +into his official apartment. The doors both of the parlour and office +remaining open, the ears of Luckie Dods (experienced, as the reader +knows, in collecting intelligence) could partly overhear what passed. +The conversation seemed to regard a cash transaction of some importance, +as Meg became aware when the stranger raised a voice which was naturally +sharp and high, as he did when uttering the following words, towards the +close of a conversation which had lasted about five +minutes—“Premium?—Not a pice, sir—not a courie—not a +farthing—premium for a Bank of England bill?—d'ye take me for a fool, +sir?—do not I know that you call forty days par when you give +remittances to London?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Bindloose was here heard to mutter something indistinctly about the +custom of the trade.</p> + +<p>“Custom!” retorted the stranger, “no such thing—damn'd bad custom, if +it is one—don't tell me of customs—'Sbodikins, man, I know the rate of +exchange all over the world, and have drawn bills from Timbuctoo—My +friends in the Strand filed it along with Bruce's from Gondar—talk to +me of premium on a Bank of England post-bill!—What d'ye look at the +bill for?—D'ye think it doubtful—I can change it.”</p> + +<p>“By no means necessary,” answered Bindloose, “the bill is quite right; +but it is usual to indorse, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Certainly—reach me a pen—d'ye think I can write with my rattan?—What +sort of ink is this?—yellow as curry sauce—never mind—there is my +name—Peregrine Touchwood—I got it from the Willoughbies, my Christian +name—Have I my full change here?”<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_223" id="vol_i_Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Your full change, sir,” answered Bindloose.</p> + +<p>“Why, you should give <i>me</i> a premium, friend, instead of me giving you +one.”</p> + +<p>“It is out of our way, I assure you, sir,” said the Banker, “quite out +of our way—but if you would step into the parlour and take a cup of +tea”——</p> + +<p>“Why, ay,” said the stranger, his voice sounding more distinctly as +(talking all the while, and ushered along by Mr. Bindloose) he left the +office and moved towards the parlour, “a cup of tea were no such bad +thing, if one could come by it genuine—but as for your premium”——So +saying, he entered the parlour and made his bow to Mrs. Dods, who, +seeing what she called a decent, purpose-like body, and aware that his +pocket was replenished with English and Scottish paper currency, +returned the compliment with her best curtsy.</p> + +<p>Mr. Touchwood, when surveyed more at leisure, was a short, stout, active +man, who, though sixty years of age and upwards, retained in his sinews +and frame the elasticity of an earlier period. His countenance expressed +self-confidence, and something like a contempt for those who had neither +seen nor endured so much as he had himself. His short black hair was +mingled with grey, but not entirely whitened by it. His eyes were +jet-black, deep-set, small, and sparkling, and contributed, with a short +turned-up nose, to express an irritable and choleric habit. His +complexion was burnt to a brick-colour by the vicissitudes of climate, +to which it had been subjected; and his face, which at the distance of a +yard or two seemed hale and smooth, a<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_224" id="vol_i_Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span>ppeared, when closely examined, to +be seamed with a million of wrinkles, crossing each other in every +direction possible, but as fine as if drawn by the point of a very +small needle.<a name="vol_i_FNanchor_20_20" id="vol_i_FNanchor_20_20"></a><a href="#vol_i_Footnote_20_20" class="fnanchor">[20]</a> His dress was a blue coat and buff waistcoat, half +boots remarkably well blacked, and a silk handkerchief tied with +military precision. The only antiquated part of his dress was a cocked +hat of equilateral dimensions, in the button-hole of which he wore a +very small cockade. Mrs. Dods, accustomed to judge of persons by their +first appearance, said, that in the three steps which he made from the +door to the tea-table, she recognised, without the possibility of +mistake, the gait of a person who was well to pass in the world; “and +that,” she added with a wink, “is what we victuallers are seldom +deceived in. If a gold-laced waistcoat has an empty pouch, the plain +swan's-down will be the brawer of the twa.”</p> + +<p>“A drizzling morning, good madam,” said Mr. Touchwood, as with a view of +sounding what sort of company he had got into.</p> + +<p>“A fine saft morning for the crap, sir,” answered Mrs. Dods, with equal +solemnity.</p> + +<p>“Right, my good madam; <i>soft</i> is the very word, though it has been some +time since I heard it. I have cast a double hank about the round world +since I last heard of a soft<a name="vol_i_FNanchor_21_21" id="vol_i_FNanchor_21_21"></a><a href="#vol_i_Footnote_21_21" class="fnanchor">[21]</a> morning.”</p> + +<p>“You will be from these parts, then?” said the writer, ingeniously +putting a case, which, he hoped, would induce the stranger<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_225" id="vol_i_Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span> to explain +himself. “And yet, sir,” he added, after a pause, “I was thinking that +Touchwood is not a Scottish name, at least that I ken of.”</p> + +<p>“Scottish name?—no,” replied the traveller; “but a man may have been in +these parts before, without being a native—or, being a native, he may +have had some reason to change his name—there are many reasons why men +change their names.”</p> + +<p>“Certainly, and some of them very good ones,” said the lawyer; “as in +the common case of an heir of entail, where deed of provision and +tailzie is maist ordinarily implemented by taking up name and arms.”</p> + +<p>“Ay, or in the case of a man having made the country too hot for him +under his own proper appellative,” said Mr. Touchwood.</p> + +<p>“That is a supposition, sir,” replied the lawyer, “which it would ill +become me to put.—But at any rate, if you knew this country formerly, +ye cannot but be marvellously pleased with the change we have been +making since the American war—hill-sides bearing clover instead of +heather—rents doubled, trebled, quadrupled—the auld reekie dungeons +pulled down, and gentlemen living in as good houses as you will see any +where in England.”</p> + +<p>“Much good may it do them, for a pack of fools!” replied Mr. Touchwood, +hastily.</p> + +<p>“You do not seem much delighted with our improvements, sir?” said the +banker, astonished to hear a dissentient voice where he conceived all +men were unanimous.</p> + +<p>“Pleased!” answered the stranger—“Yes, as much pleased as I am with the +devil, who I believe set many of them agoing. Ye have got an idea that +every thing must be changed—Unstable a<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_226" id="vol_i_Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span>s water, ye shall not excel—I +tell ye, there have been more changes in this poor nook of yours within +the last forty years, than in the great empires of the East for the +space of four thousand, for what I know.”</p> + +<p>“And why not,” replied Bindloose, “if they be changes for the better?”</p> + +<p>“But they are <i>not</i> for the better,” replied Mr. Touchwood, eagerly. “I +left your peasantry as poor as rats indeed, but honest and industrious, +enduring their lot in this world with firmness, and looking forward to +the next with hope—Now they are mere eye-servants—looking at their +watches, forsooth, every ten minutes, lest they should work for their +master half an instant after loosing-time—And then, instead of studying +the Bible on the work days, to kittle the clergymen with doubtful points +of controversy on the Sabbath, they glean all their theology from Tom +Paine and Voltaire.”</p> + +<p>“Weel I wot the gentleman speaks truth,” said Mrs. Dods. “I fand a +bundle of their bawbee blasphemies in my ain kitchen—But I trow I made +a clean house of the packman loon that brought them!—No content wi' +turning the tawpies' heads wi' ballants, and driving them daft wi' +ribands, to cheat them out of their precious souls, and gie them the +deevil's ware, that I suld say sae, in exchange for the siller that suld +support their puir father that's aff wark and bedridden!”</p> + +<p>“Father! madam,” said the stranger; “they think no more of their father +than Regan or Goneril.”</p> + +<p>“In gude troth, ye have skeel of our sect, sir,” replied the dame; “they +are gomerils, every one of them—I tell them sae every hour of the day, +but catch them profiting by the doctrine.”</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_227" id="vol_i_Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span></p> +<p>“And then the brutes are turned mercenary, madam,” said Mr. Touchwood, +“I remember when a Scottishman would have scorned to touch a shilling +that he had not earned, and yet was as ready to help a stranger as an +Arab of the desert. And now, I did but drop my cane the other day as I +was riding—a fellow who was working at the hedge made three steps to +lift it—I thanked him, and my friend threw his hat on his head, and +‘damned my thanks, if that were all’—Saint Giles could not have +excelled him.”</p> + +<p>“Weel, weel,” said the banker, “that may be a' as you say, sir, and nae +doubt wealth makes wit waver; but the country's wealthy, that cannot be +denied, and wealth, sir, ye ken”——</p> + +<p>“I know wealth makes itself wings,” answered the cynical stranger; “but +I am not quite sure we have it even now. You make a great show, indeed, +with building and cultivation; but stock is not capital, any more than +the fat of a corpulent man is health or strength.”</p> + +<p>“Surely, Mr. Touchwood,” said Bindloose, who felt his own account in the +modern improvements, “a set of landlords, living like lairds in good +earnest, and tenants with better housekeeping than the lairds used to +have, and facing Whitsunday and Martinmas as I would face my +breakfast—if these are not signs of wealth, I do not know where to seek +for them.”</p> + +<p>“They are signs of folly, sir,” replied Touchwood; “folly that is poor, +and renders itself poorer by desiring to be thought rich; and how they +come by the means they are so ostentatious of, you, who are a banker, +perhaps can tell me better than I can guess.”</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_228" id="vol_i_Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span></p> +<p>“There is maybe an accommodation bill discounted now and then, Mr. +Touchwood; but men must have accommodation, or the world would stand +still—accommodation is the grease that makes the wheels go.”</p> + +<p>“Ay, makes them go down hill to the devil,” answered Touchwood. “I left +you bothered about one Ayr bank, but the whole country is an Air bank +now, I think—And who is to pay the piper?—But it's all one—I will see +little more of it—it is a perfect Babel, and would turn the head of a +man who has spent his life with people who love sitting better than +running, silence better than speaking, who never eat but when they are +hungry, never drink but when thirsty, never laugh without a jest, and +never speak but when they have something to say. But here, it is all +run, ride, and drive—froth, foam, and flippancy—no steadiness—no +character.”</p> + +<p>“I'll lay the burden of my life,” said Dame Dods, looking towards her +friend Bindloose, “that the gentleman has been at the new Spaw-waal +yonder!”</p> + +<p>“Spaw do you call it, madam?—If you mean the new establishment that has +been spawned down yonder at St. Ronan's, it is the very fountain-head of +folly and coxcombry—a Babel for noise, and a Vanity-fair for +nonsense—no well in your swamps tenanted by such a conceited colony of +clamorous frogs.”</p> + +<p>“Sir, sir!” exclaimed Dame Dods, delighted with the unqualified sentence +passed upon her fashionable rivals, and eager to testify her respect for +the judicious stranger who had pronounced it,—“will you let me have the +pleasure of pouring you out a dish of tea?” And so saying, she took +bustling possession of the administration which had hitherto remained in +the hands of Mr. Bindloose himself.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_229" id="vol_i_Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I hope it is to your taste, sir,” she continued, when the traveller +had accepted her courtesy with the grateful acknowledgment, which men +addicted to speak a great deal usually show to a willing auditor.</p> + +<p>“It is as good as we have any right to expect, ma'am,” answered Mr. +Touchwood; “not quite like what I have drunk at Canton with old Fong +Qua—but the Celestial Empire does not send its best tea to Leadenhall +Street, nor does Leadenhall Street send its best to Marchthorn.”</p> + +<p>“That may be very true, sir,” replied the dame; “but I will venture to +say that Mr. Bindloose's tea is muckle better than you had at the +Spaw-waal yonder.”</p> + +<p>“Tea, madam!—I saw none—Ash leaves and black-thorn leaves were brought +in in painted canisters, and handed about by powder-monkeys in livery, +and consumed by those who liked it, amidst the chattering of parrots and +the squalling of kittens. I longed for the days of the Spectator, when I +might have laid my penny on the bar, and retired without ceremony—But +no—this blessed decoction was circulated under the auspices of some +half-crazed blue-stocking or other, and we were saddled with all the +formality of an entertainment, for this miserable allowance of a +cockle-shell full of cat-lap per head.”</p> + +<p>“Weel, sir,” answered Dame Dods, “all I can say is, that if it had been +my luck to have served you at the Cleikum Inn, which our folk have kept +for these twa generations, I canna pretend to say ye should have had +such tea as ye have been used to in foreign parts where it grows, but +the best I <span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_230" id="vol_i_Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span>had I wad have gi'en it to a gentleman of your appearance, +and I never charged mair than six-pence in all my time, and my father's +before me.”</p> + +<p>“I wish I had known the Old Inn was still standing, madam,” said the +traveller; “I should certainly have been your guest, and sent down for +the water every morning—the doctors insist I must use Cheltenham, or +some substitute, for the bile—though, d—n them, I believe it's only +to hide their own ignorance. And I thought this Spaw would have been the +least evil of the two; but I have been fairly overreached—one might as +well live in the inside of a bell. I think young St. Ronan's must be +mad, to have established such a Vanity-fair upon his father's old +property.”</p> + +<p>“Do you ken this St. Ronan's that now is?” enquired the dame.</p> + +<p>“By report only,” said Mr. Touchwood; “but I have heard of the family, +and I think I have read of them, too, in Scottish history. I am sorry to +understand they are lower in the world than they have been. This young +man does not seem to take the best way to mend matters, spending his +time among gamblers and black-legs.”</p> + +<p>“I should be sorry if it were so,” said honest Meg Dods, whose +hereditary respect for the family always kept her from joining in any +scandal affecting the character of the young Laird—“My forbears, sir, +have had kindness frae his; and although maybe he may have forgotten all +about it, it wad ill become me to say ony thing of him that should not +be said of his father's son.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Bindloose had not the same motive for forbearance; he declaimed +against Mowbray as a thoughtless dissipater of his own fortune, and that +of others. <span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_231" id="vol_i_Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span>“I have some reason to speak,” he said, “having two of his +notes for L.100 each, which I discounted out of mere kindness and +respect for his ancient family, and which he thinks nae mair of +retiring, than he does of paying the national debt—And here has he been +raking every shop in Marchthorn, to fit out an entertainment for all the +fine folk at the Well yonder; and tradesfolk are obliged to take his +acceptances for their furnishings. But they may cash his bills that +will; I ken ane that will never advance a bawbee on ony paper that has +John Mowbray either on the back or front of it. He had mair need to be +paying the debts which he has made already, than making new anes, that +he may feed fules and flatterers.”</p> + +<p>“I believe he is likely to lose his preparations, too,” said Mr. +Touchwood, “for the entertainment has been put off, as I heard, in +consequence of Miss Mowbray's illness.”</p> + +<p>“Ay, ay, puir thing!” said Dame Margaret Dods: “her health has been +unsettled for this mony a day.”</p> + +<p>“Something wrong here, they tell me,” said the traveller, pointing to +his own forehead significantly.</p> + +<p>“God only kens,” replied Mrs. Dods; “but I rather suspect the heart than +the head—the puir thing is hurried here and there, and down to the +Waal, and up again, and nae society or quiet at hame; and a' thing +ganging this unthrifty gait—nae wonder she is no that weel settled.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” replied Touchwood, “she is worse they say than she has been, and +that has occasioned the party at Shaws-Castle having been put off. +Besides, now this fine young lord has come down to the Well, undoubtedly +they will wait her recovery.”</p> + +<p>“A lord!” ejaculated the astonished Mrs. <span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_232" id="vol_i_Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span>Dods; “a lord come down to the +Waal—they will be neither to haud nor to bind now—ance wud and aye +waur—a lord!—set them up and shute them forward—a lord!—the Lord +have a care o' us!—a lord at the hottle!—Maister Touchwood, it's my +mind he will only prove to be a Lord o' Session.”</p> + +<p>“Nay, not so, my good lady,” replied the traveller “he is an English +lord, and, as they say, a Lord of Parliament—but some folk pretend to +say there is a flaw in the title.”</p> + +<p>“I'll warrant is there—a dozen of them!” said Meg, with alacrity—for +she could by no means endure to think on the accumulation of dignity +likely to accrue to the rival establishment, from its becoming the +residence of an actual nobleman. “I'll warrant he'll prove a landlouping +lord on their hand, and they will be e'en cheap o' the loss—And he has +come down out of order it's like, and nae doubt he'll no be lang there +before he will recover his health, for the credit of the Spaw.”</p> + +<p>“Faith, madam, his present disorder is one which the Spaw will hardly +cure—he is shot in the shoulder with a pistol-bullet—a robbery +attempted, it seems—that is one of your new accomplishments—no such +thing happened in Scotland in my time—men would have sooner expected to +meet with the phœnix than with a highwayman.”</p> + +<p>“And where did this happen, if you please, sir?” asked the man of bills.</p> + +<p>“Somewhere near the old village,” replied the stranger; “and, if I am +rightly informed, on Wednesday last.”</p> + +<p>“This explains your twa shots, I am thinking, Mrs. Dods,” said Mr. +Bindloose; “your groom heard them on the Wednesday—it must have been +this attack on the stranger nobleman.”</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_233" id="vol_i_Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span></p> +<p>“Maybe it was, and maybe it was not,” said Mrs. Dods; “but I'll see gude +reason before I give up my ain judgment in that case.—I wad like to +ken if this gentleman,” she added, returning to the subject from which +Mr. Touchwood's interesting conversation had for a few minutes diverted +her thoughts, “has heard aught of Mr. Tirl?”</p> + +<p>“If you mean the person to whom this paper relates,” said the stranger, +taking a printed handbill from his pocket, “I heard of little else—the +whole place rang of him, till I was almost as sick of Tyrrel as William +Rufus was. Some idiotical quarrel which he had engaged in, and which he +had not fought out, as their wisdom thought he should have done, was the +principal cause of censure. That is another folly now, which has gained +ground among you. Formerly, two old proud lairds, or cadets of good +family, perhaps, quarrelled, and had a rencontre, or fought a duel after +the fashion of their old Gothic ancestors; but men who had no +grandfathers never dreamt of such folly—And here the folk denounce a +trumpery dauber of canvass, for such I understand to be this hero's +occupation, as if he were a field-officer, who made valour his +profession; and who, if you deprived him of his honour, was like to be +deprived of his bread at the same time.—Ha, ha, ha! it reminds one of +Don Quixote, who took his neighbour, Samson Carrasco, for a +knight-errant.”</p> + +<p>The perusal of this paper, which contained the notes formerly laid +before the reader, containing the statement of Sir Bingo, and the +censure which the company at the Well had thought fit to pass upon his +affair with Mr. Tyrrel<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_234" id="vol_i_Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span>, induced Mr. Bindloose to say to Mrs. Dods, with +as little exultation on the superiority of his own judgment as human +nature would permit,—</p> + +<p>“Ye see now that I was right, Mrs. Dods, and that there was nae earthly +use in your fashing yoursell wi' this lang journey—The lad had just +ta'en the bent rather than face Sir Bingo; and troth, I think him the +wiser of the twa for sae doing—There ye hae print for it.”</p> + +<p>Meg answered somewhat sullenly, “Ye may be mista'en, for a' that, your +ainsell, for as wise as ye are, Mr. Bindloose; I shall hae that matter +mair strictly enquired into.”</p> + +<p>This led to a renewal of the altercation concerning the probable fate of +Tyrrel, in the course of which the stranger was induced to take some +interest in the subject.</p> + +<p>At length Mrs. Dods, receiving no countenance from the experienced +lawyer for the hypothesis she had formed, rose, in something like +displeasure, to order her whiskey to be prepared. But hostess as she was +herself, when in her own dominions, she reckoned without her host in the +present instance; for the humpbacked postilion, as absolute in his +department as Mrs. Dods herself, declared that the cattle would not be +fit for the road these two hours yet. The good lady was therefore +obliged to wait his pleasure, bitterly lamenting all the while the loss +which a house of public entertainment was sure to sustain by the absence +of the landlord or landlady, and anticipating a long list of broken +dishes, miscalculated reckonings, unarranged chambers, and other +disasters, which she was to expect at her return. Mr. Bindloose, zealous +to recover the regard of his good friend and client, which he had in +some degree f<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_235" id="vol_i_Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span>orfeited by contradicting her on a favourite subject, did +not choose to offer the unpleasing, though obvious topic of consolation, +that an unfrequented inn is little exposed to the accidents she +apprehended. On the contrary, he condoled with her very cordially, and +went so far as to hint, that if Mr. Touchwood had come to Marchthorn +with post-horses, as he supposed from his dress, she could have the +advantage of them to return with more despatch to St. Ronan's.</p> + +<p>“I am not sure,” said Mr. Touchwood, suddenly, “but I may return there +myself. In that case I will be glad to set this good lady down, and to +stay a few days at her house if she will receive me.—I respect a woman +like you, ma'am, who pursue the occupation of your father—I have been +in countries, ma'am, where people have followed the same trade, from +father to son, for thousands of years—And I like the fashion—it shows +a steadiness and sobriety of character.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dods put on a joyous countenance at this proposal, protesting that +all should be done in her power to make things agreeable; and while her +good friend, Mr. Bindloose, expatiated upon the comfort her new guest +would experience at the Cleikum, she silently contemplated with delight +the prospect of a speedy and dazzling triumph, by carrying off a +creditable customer from her showy and successful rival at the Well.</p> + +<p>“I shall be easily accommodated, ma'am,” said the stranger; “I have +travelled too much and too far to be troublesome. A Spanish venta, a +Persian khan, or a Turkish caravanserail, is all the same to me—only, +as I have no servant—indeed, never can be plagued with one of these +idle loiterers,—I must beg yo<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_236" id="vol_i_Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span>u will send to the Well for a bottle of +the water on such mornings as I cannot walk there myself—I find it is +really of some service to me.”</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dods readily promised compliance with this reasonable request; +graciously conceding, that there “could be nae ill in the water itsell, +but maybe some gude—it was only the New Inn, and the daft haverils that +they caa'd the Company, that she misliked. Folk had a jest that St. +Ronan dookit the Deevil in the Waal, which garr'd it taste aye since of +brimstane—but she dared to say that was a' papist nonsense, for she was +tell't by him that kend weel, and that was the minister himsell, that +St. Ronan was nane of your idolatrous Roman saunts, but a Chaldee,” +(meaning probably a Culdee,) “whilk was doubtless a very different +story.”</p> + +<p>Matters being thus arranged to the satisfaction of both parties, the +post-chaise was ordered, and speedily appeared at the door of Mr. +Bindloose's mansion. It was not without a private feeling of reluctance, +that honest Meg mounted the step of a vehicle, on the door of which was +painted, “<span class="smcap">Fox Inn and Hotel, St. Ronan's Well</span>;” but it was too late to +start such scruples.</p> + +<p>“I never thought to have entered ane o' their hurley-hackets,” she said, +as she seated herself; “and sic a like thing as it is—scarce room for +twa folk!—Weel I wot, Mr. Touchwood, when I was in the hiring line, our +twa chaises wad hae carried, ilk ane o' them, four grown folk and as +mony bairns. I trust that doited creature Anthony will come awa back wi' +my whiskey and the cattle, as soon as they have had their feed.—Are ye +sure ye hae room eneugh, sir?—I wad fain hotch mysell farther yont.”</p> + +<p>“O, ma'<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_237" id="vol_i_Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span>am,” answered the Oriental, “I am accustomed to all sorts of +conveyances—a dooly, a litter, a cart, a palanquin, or a post-chaise, +are all alike to me—I think I could be an inside with Queen Mab in <span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_238" id="vol_i_Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span>a +nutshell, rather than not get forward.—Begging you many pardons, if you +have no particular objections, I will light my sheroot,” &c. &c. &c.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol_i_CHAPTER_XVI" id="vol_i_CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI.</h2> + +<h3>THE CLERGYMAN.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A man he was to all the country dear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And passing rich with forty pounds a-year.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="citation"> +<span class="smcap">Goldsmith</span>'s <i>Deserted Village</i>.<br /> +</p> + + +<p>Mrs. Dods's conviction, that her friend Tyrrel had been murdered by the +sanguinary Captain MacTurk remained firm and unshaken; but some +researches for the supposed body having been found fruitless, as well as +expensive, she began to give up the matter in despair. “She had done her +duty”—“she left the matter to them that had a charge anent such +things”—and “Providence would bring the mystery to light in his own +fitting time”—such were the moralities with which the good dame +consoled herself; and, with less obstinacy than Mr. Bindloose had +expected, she retained her opinion without changing her banker and man +of business.</p> + +<p>Perhaps Meg's acquiescent inactivity in a matter which she had +threatened to probe so deeply, was partly owing to the place of poor +Tyrrel being supplied in her blue chamber, and in her daily thoughts and +cares, by her new guest, Mr. Touchwood; in possessing whom, a deserter +as he was from the Well, she obtained, according to her view of the +matter, a <span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_239" id="vol_i_Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span>decided triumph over her rivals. It sometimes required, +however, the full force of this reflection, to induce Meg, old and +crabbed as she was, to submit to the various caprices and exactions of +attention which were displayed by her new lodger. Never any man talked +so much as Touchwood, of his habitual indifference to food, and +accommodation in travelling; and probably there never was any traveller +who gave more trouble in a house of entertainment. He had his own whims +about cookery; and when these were contradicted, especially if he felt +at the same time a twinge of incipient gout, one would have thought he +had taken his lessons in the pastry-shop of Bedreddin Hassan, and was +ready to renew the scene of the unhappy cream-tart, which was compounded +without pepper. Every now and then he started some new doctrine in +culinary matters, which Mrs. Dods deemed a heresy; and then the very +house rang with their disputes. Again, his bed must necessarily be made +at a certain angle from the pillow to the footposts; and the slightest +deviation from this disturbed, he said, his nocturnal rest, and did +certainly ruffle his temper. He was equally whimsical about the brushing +of his clothes, the arrangement of the furniture in his apartment, and a +thousand minutiæ, which, in conversation, he seemed totally to contemn.</p> + +<p>It may seem singular, but such is the inconsistency of human nature, +that a guest of this fanciful and capricious disposition gave much more +satisfaction to Mrs. Dods, than her quiet and indifferent friend, Mr. +Tyrrel. If her present lodger could blame, he could also applaud; and no +artist, conscious of such skill as Mrs. Dods possessed, is i<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_240" id="vol_i_Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span>ndifferent +to the praises of such a connoisseur as Mr. Touchwood. The pride of art +comforted her for the additional labour; nor was it a matter unworthy +of this most honest publican's consideration, that the guests who give +most trouble, are usually those who incur the largest bills, and pay +them with the best grace. On this point Touchwood was a jewel of a +customer. He never denied himself the gratification of the slightest +whim, whatever expense he might himself incur, or whatever trouble he +might give to those about him; and all was done under protestation, that +the matter in question was the most indifferent thing to him in the +world. “What the devil did he care for Burgess's sauces, he that had eat +his kouscousou, spiced with nothing but the sand of the desert? only it +was a shame for Mrs. Dods to be without what every decent house, above +the rank of an alehouse, ought to be largely provided with.”</p> + +<p>In short, he fussed, fretted, commanded, and was obeyed; kept the house +in hot water, and yet was so truly good-natured when essential matters +were in discussion, that it was impossible to bear him the least +ill-will; so that Mrs. Dods, though in a moment of spleen she sometimes +wished him at the top of Tintock,<a name="vol_i_FNanchor_F_29" id="vol_i_FNanchor_F_29"></a><a href="#vol_i_Footnote_F_29" class="fnanchor">[F]</a> always ended by singing forth his +praises. She could not, indeed, help suspecting that he was a Nabob, as +well from his conversation about foreign parts, as from his freaks of +indulgence to himself, and generosity to others,—attributes which she +understood to be proper to most “Men of Ind.” But although the reader +has heard her testify a general dislike to this species of Fortune's +favourites, Mrs. Dods had sense enough to know, that a Nabob living in +the<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_241" id="vol_i_Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span> neighbourhood, who raises the price of eggs and poultry upon the +good housewives around, was very different from a Nabob residing within +her own gates, drawing all his supplies from her own larder, and +paying, without hesitation or question, whatever bills her conscience +permitted her to send in. In short, to come back to the point at which +we perhaps might have stopped some time since, landlady and guest were +very much pleased with each other.</p> + +<p>But Ennui finds entrance into every scene, when the gloss of novelty is +over; and the fiend began to seize upon Mr. Touchwood just when he had +got all matters to his mind in the Cleikum Inn—had instructed Dame Dods +in the mysteries of curry and mullegatawny—drilled the chambermaid into +the habit of making his bed at the angle recommended by Sir John +Sinclair—and made some progress in instructing the humpbacked postilion +in the Arabian mode of grooming. Pamphlets and newspapers, sent from +London and from Edinburgh by loads, proved inadequate to rout this +invader of Mr. Touchwood's comfort; and, at last, he bethought himself +of company. The natural resource would have been the Well—but the +traveller had a holy shivering of awe, which crossed him at the very +recollection of Lady Penelope, who had worked him rather hard during his +former brief residence; and although Lady Binks's beauty might have +charmed an Asiatic, by the plump graces of its contour, our senior was +past the thoughts of a Sultana and a haram. At length a bright idea +crossed his mind, and he suddenly demanded of Mrs. Dods, who was pouring +out his tea for breakfast, into a large cup of<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_242" id="vol_i_Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span> a very particular species +of china, of which he had presented her with a service on condition of +her rendering him this personal good office,—“Pray, Mrs. Dods, what +sort of a man is your minister?”</p> + +<p>“He's just a man like other men, Maister Touchwood,” replied Meg; “what +sort of a man should he be?”</p> + +<p>“A man like other men?—ay—that is to say, he has the usual complement +of legs and arms, eyes and ears—But is he a sensible man?”</p> + +<p>“No muckle o' that, sir,” answered Dame Dods; “for if he was drinking +this very tea that ye gat doun from London wi' the mail, he wad mistake +it for common bohea.”</p> + +<p>“Then he has not all his organs—wants a nose, or the use of one at +least,” said Mr. Touchwood; “the tea is right gunpowder—a perfect +nosegay.”</p> + +<p>“Aweel, that may be,” said the landlady; “but I have gi'en the minister +a dram frae my ain best bottle of real Coniac brandy, and may I never +stir frae the bit, if he didna commend my whisky when he set down the +glass! There is no ane o' them in the Presbytery but himsell—ay, or in +the Synod either—but wad hae kend whisky frae brandy.”</p> + +<p>“But what <i>sort</i> of man is he?—Has he learning?” demanded Touchwood.</p> + +<p>“Learning?—eneugh o' that,” answered Meg; “just dung donnart wi' +learning—lets a' things about the Manse gang whilk gate they will, sae +they dinna plague him upon the score. An awfu' thing it is to see sic an +ill-red-up house!—If I had the twa tawpies that sorn upon the honest +man ae week under my drilling, I think I wad show them how to sort a +lodging!”</p> + +<p>“Does he preach well?” asked the guest.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_243" id="vol_i_Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span></p> +<p>“Oh, weel eneugh, weel eneugh—sometimes he will fling in a lang word or +a bit of learning that our farmers and bannet lairds canna sae weel +follow—But what of that, as I am aye telling them?—them that pay +stipend get aye the mair for their siller.”</p> + +<p>“Does he attend to his parish?—Is he kind to the poor?”</p> + +<p>“Ower muckle o' that, Maister Touchwood—I am sure he makes the Word +gude, and turns not away from those that ask o' him—his very pocket is +picked by a wheen ne'er-do-weel blackguards, that gae sorning through +the country.”</p> + +<p>“Sorning through the country, Mrs. Dods?—what would you think if you +had seen the Fakirs, the Dervises, the Bonzes, the Imaums, the monks, +and the mendicants, that I have seen?—But go on, never mind—Does this +minister of yours come much into company?”</p> + +<p>“Company?—gae wa',” replied Meg, “he keeps nae company at a', neither +in his ain house or ony gate else. He comes down in the morning in a +lang ragged nightgown, like a potato bogle, and down he sits amang his +books; and if they dinna bring him something to eat, the puir demented +body has never the heart to cry for aught, and he has been kend to sit +for ten hours thegither, black fasting, whilk is a' mere papistrie, +though he does it just out o' forget.”</p> + +<p>“Why, landlady, in that case, your parson is any thing but the ordinary +kind of man you described him—Forget his dinner!—the man must be +mad—he shall dine with me to-day—he shall have such a dinner as I'll +be bound he won't forget in a hurry.”</p> + +<p>“Ye'll ma<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_244" id="vol_i_Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span>ybe find that easier said than dune,” said Mrs. Dods; “the +honest man hasna, in a sense, the taste of his mouth—forby, he never +dines out of his ain house—that is, when he dines at a'—A drink of +milk and a bit of bread serves his turn, or maybe a cauld potato.—It's +a heathenish fashion of him, for as good a man as he is, for surely +there is nae Christian man but loves his own bowels.”</p> + +<p>“Why, that may be,” answered Touchwood; “but I have known many who took +so much care of their own bowels, my good dame, as to have none for any +one else.—But come—bustle to the work—get us as good a dinner for two +as you can set out—have it ready at three to an instant—get the old +hock I had sent me from Cockburn—a bottle of the particular Indian +Sherry—and another of your own old claret—fourth bin, you know, +Meg.—And stay, he is a priest, and must have port—have all ready, but +don't bring the wine into the sun, as that silly fool Beck did the other +day.—I can't go down to the larder myself, but let us have no +blunders.”</p> + +<p>“Nae fear, nae fear,” said Meg, with a toss of the head, “I need naebody +to look into my larder but mysell, I trow—but it's an unco order of +wine for twa folk, and ane o' them a minister.”</p> + +<p>“Why, you foolish person, is there not the woman up the village that has +just brought another fool into the world, and will she not need sack and +caudle, if we leave some of our wine?”</p> + +<p>“A gude ale-posset wad set her better,” said Meg; “however, if it's your +will, it shall be my pleasure.—But the like of sic a gentleman as +yoursell never entered my doors!”</p> + +<p>The traveller was gone before she had completed the sentence; and, +leaving Meg to bustle and maunder at<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_245" id="vol_i_Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span> her leisure, away he marched, with +the haste that characterised all his motions when he had any new project +in his head, to form an acquaintance with the minister of St. Ronan's, +whom, while he walks down the street to the Manse, we will endeavour to +introduce to the reader.</p> + +<p>The Rev. Josiah Cargill was the son of a small farmer in the south of +Scotland; and a weak constitution, joined to the disposition for study +which frequently accompanies infirm health, induced his parents, though +at the expense of some sacrifices, to educate him for the ministry. They +were the rather led to submit to the privations which were necessary to +support this expense, because they conceived, from their family +traditions, that he had in his veins some portion of the blood of that +celebrated Boanerges of the Covenant, Donald Cargill,<a name="vol_i_FNanchor_G_30" id="vol_i_FNanchor_G_30"></a><a href="#vol_i_Footnote_G_30" class="fnanchor">[G]</a> who was slain +by the persecutors at the town of Queensferry, in the melancholy days of +Charles II., merely because, in the plenitude of his sacerdotal power, +he had cast out of the church, and delivered over to Satan by a formal +excommunication, the King and Royal Family, with all the ministers and +courtiers thereunto belonging. But if Josiah was really derived from +this uncompromising champion, the heat of the family spirit which he +might have inherited was qualified by the sweetness of his own +disposition, and the quiet temper of the times in which he had the good +fortune to live. He was characterised by all who knew him as a mild, +gentle, and studious lover of learning, who, in the quiet prosecution of +his own sole object, the acquisition of knowledge, and especially of +that connected with his profession, had the utmost indulgence for all +whose pursuits were different from his own. His sole relax<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_246" id="vol_i_Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span>ations were +those of a retiring, mild, and pensive temper, and were limited to a +ramble, almost always solitary, among the woods and hills, in praise of +which, he was sometimes guilty of a sonnet, but rather because he could +not help the attempt, than as proposing to himself the fame or the +rewards which attend the successful poet. Indeed, far from seeking to +insinuate his fugitive pieces into magazines and newspapers, he blushed +at his poetical attempts even while alone, and, in fact, was rarely so +indulgent to his vein as to commit them to paper.</p> + +<p>From the same maid-like modesty of disposition, our student suppressed a +strong natural turn towards drawing, although he was repeatedly +complimented upon the few sketches which he made, by some whose judgment +was generally admitted. It was, however, this neglected talent, which, +like the swift feet of the stag in the fable, was fated to render him a +service which he might in vain have expected from his worth and +learning.</p> + +<p>My Lord Bidmore, a distinguished connoisseur, chanced to be in search of +a private tutor for his son and heir, the Honourable Augustus Bidmore, +and for this purpose had consulted the Professor of Theology, who passed +before him in review several favourite students, any of whom he +conceived well suited for the situation; but still his answer to the +important and unlooked-for question, “Did the candidate understand +drawing?” was answered in the negative. The Professor, indeed, added his +opinion, that such an accomplishment was neither to be desired nor +expected in a student of theology; but, pressed hard with this condition +as a <i>sine qua non</i>, he at length did remember a dreaming lad abo<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_247" id="vol_i_Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span>ut the +Hall, who seldom could be got to speak above his breath, even when +delivering his essays, but was said to have a strong turn for drawing. +This was enough for my Lord Bidmore, who contrived to obtain a sight of +some of young Cargill's sketches, and was satisfied that, under such a +tutor, his son could not fail to maintain that character for hereditary +taste which his father and grandfather had acquired at the expense of a +considerable estate, the representative value of which was now the +painted canvass in the great gallery at Bidmore-House.</p> + +<p>Upon following up the enquiry concerning the young man's character, he +was found to possess all the other necessary qualifications of learning +and morals, in a greater degree than perhaps Lord Bidmore might have +required; and, to the astonishment of his fellow-students, but more +especially to his own, Josiah Cargill was promoted to the desired and +desirable situation of private tutor to the Honourable Mr. Bidmore.</p> + +<p>Mr. Cargill did his duty ably and conscientiously, by a spoiled though +good-humoured lad, of weak health and very ordinary parts. He could not, +indeed, inspire into him any portion of the deep and noble enthusiasm +which characterises the youth of genius; but his pupil made such +progress in each branch of his studies as his capacity enabled him to +attain. He understood the learned languages, and could be very profound +on the subject of various readings—he pursued science, and could class +shells, pack mosses, and arrange minerals—he drew without taste, but +with much accuracy; and although he attained no commanding height in any +pursuit, he knew enough of many studi<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_248" id="vol_i_Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span>es, literary and scientific, to +fill up his time, and divert from temptation a head, which was none of +the strongest in point of resistance.</p> + +<p>Miss Augusta Bidmore, his lordship's only other child, received also the +instructions of Cargill in such branches of science as her father chose +she should acquire, and her tutor was capable to teach. But her progress +was as different from that of her brother, as the fire of heaven differs +from that grosser element which the peasant piles upon his smouldering +hearth. Her acquirements in Italian and Spanish literature, in history, +in drawing, and in all elegant learning, were such as to enchant her +teacher, while at the same time it kept him on the stretch, lest, in her +successful career, the scholar should outstrip the master.</p> + +<p>Alas! such intercourse, fraught as it is with dangers arising out of the +best and kindest, as well as the most natural feelings on either side, +proved in the present, as in many other instances, fatal to the peace of +the preceptor. Every feeling heart will excuse a weakness, which we +shall presently find carried with it its own severe punishment. Cadenus, +indeed, believe him who will, has assured us, that, in such a perilous +intercourse, he himself preserved the limits which were unhappily +transgressed by the unfortunate Vanessa, his more impassioned pupil:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“The innocent delight he took<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To see the virgin mind her book,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Was but the master's secret joy,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In school to hear the finest boy.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>But Josiah Cargill was less fortunate, or less cautious. He suffered his +fair pupil to become inexpressibly dear to him, before he discovered the +precip<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_249" id="vol_i_Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span>ice towards which he was moving under the direction of a blind and +misplaced passion. He was indeed utterly incapable of availing himself +of the opportunities afforded by his situation, to involve his pupil in +the toils of a mutual passion. Honour and gratitude alike forbade such a +line of conduct, even had it been consistent with the natural +bashfulness, simplicity, and innocence of his disposition. To sigh and +suffer in secret, to form resolutions of separating himself from a +situation so fraught with danger, and to postpone from day to day the +accomplishment of a resolution so prudent, was all to which the tutor +found himself equal; and it is not improbable, that the veneration with +which he regarded his patron's daughter, with the utter hopelessness of +the passion which he nourished, tended to render his love yet more pure +and disinterested.</p> + +<p>At length, the line of conduct which reason had long since recommended, +could no longer be the subject of procrastination. Mr. Bidmore was +destined to foreign travel for a twelvemonth, and Mr. Cargill received +from his patron the alternative of accompanying his pupil, or retiring +upon a suitable provision, the reward of his past instructions. It can +hardly be doubted which he preferred; for while he was with young +Bidmore, he did not seem entirely separated from his sister. He was sure +to hear of Augusta frequently, and to see some part, at least, of the +letters which she was to write to her brother; he might also hope to be +remembered in these letters as her “good friend and tutor;” and to these +consolations his quiet, contemplative, and yet enthusiastic disposition, +clung as to a secret source of pleasure, the only one which life seemed +to open to him.</p> + +<p>But fa<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_250" id="vol_i_Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span>te had a blow in store, which he had not anticipated. The chance +of Augusta's changing her maiden condition for that of a wife, probable +as her rank, beauty, and fortune rendered such an event, had never once +occurred to him; and although he had imposed upon himself the unwavering +belief that she could never be his, he was inexpressibly affected by the +intelligence that she had become the property of another.</p> + +<p>The Honourable Mr. Bidmore's letters to his father soon after announced +that poor Mr. Cargill had been seized with a nervous fever, and again, +that his reconvalescence was attended with so much debility, it seemed +both of mind and body, as entirely to destroy his utility as a +travelling companion. Shortly after this the travellers separated, and +Cargill returned to his native country alone, indulging upon the road in +a melancholy abstraction of mind, which he had suffered to grow upon him +since the mental shock which he had sustained, and which in time became +the most characteristical feature of his demeanour. His meditations were +not even disturbed by any anxiety about his future subsistence, although +the cessation of his employment seemed to render that precarious. For +this, however, Lord Bidmore had made provision; for, though a coxcomb +where the fine arts were concerned, he was in other particulars a just +and honourable man, who felt a sincere pride in having drawn the talents +of Cargill from obscurity, and entertained due gratitude for the manner +in which he had achieved the important task intrusted to him in his +family.</p> + +<p>His lordship had privately purchased from the Mowbray family the +patronage or advowson of the <span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_251" id="vol_i_Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span>living of St. Ronan's, then held by a very +old incumbent, who died shortly afterwards; so that upon arriving in +England Cargill found himself named to the vacant living. So +indifferent, however, did he feel himself towards this preferment, that +he might possibly not have taken the trouble to go through the necessary +steps previous to his ordination, had it not been on account of his +mother, now a widow, and unprovided for, unless by the support which he +afforded her. He visited her in her small retreat in the suburbs of +Marchthorn, heard her pour out her gratitude to Heaven, that she should +have been granted life long enough to witness her son's promotion to a +charge, which in her eyes was more honourable and desirable than an +Episcopal see—heard her chalk out the life which they were to lead +together in the humble independence which had thus fallen on him—he +heard all this, and had no power to crush her hopes and her triumph by +the indulgence of his own romantic feelings. He passed almost +mechanically through the usual forms, and was inducted into the living +of St. Ronan's.</p> + +<p>Although fanciful and romantic, it was not in Josiah Cargill's nature to +yield to unavailing melancholy; yet he sought relief, not in society, +but in solitary study. His seclusion was the more complete, that his +mother, whose education had been as much confined as her fortunes, felt +awkward under her new dignities, and willingly acquiesced in her son's +secession from society, and spent her whole time in superintending the +little household, and in her way providing for all emergencies, the +occurrence of which might call Josiah out of his favourite book-room. As +old age rendered her inactive, she began to regret the incapacity of he<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_252" id="vol_i_Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span>r +son to superintend his own household, and talked something of matrimony, +and the mysteries of the muckle wheel. To these admonitions Mr. Cargill +returned only slight and evasive answers; and when the old lady slept in +the village churchyard, at a reverend old age, there was no one to +perform the office of superintendent in the minister's family. Neither +did Josiah Cargill seek for any, but patiently submitted to all the +evils with which a bachelor estate is attended, and which were at least +equal to those which beset the renowned Mago-Pico during his state of +celibacy.<a name="vol_i_FNanchor_22_22" id="vol_i_FNanchor_22_22"></a><a href="#vol_i_Footnote_22_22" class="fnanchor">[22]</a> His butter was ill churned, and declared by all but +himself and the quean who made it, altogether uneatable; his milk was +burnt in the pan, his fruit and vegetables were stolen, and his black +stockings mended with blue and white thread.</p> + +<p>For all these things the minister cared not, his mind ever bent upon far +different matters. Do not let my fair readers do Josiah more than +justice, or suppose that, like Beltenebros in the desert, he remained +for years the victim of an unfortunate and misplaced passion. No—to the +shame of the male sex be it spoken, that no degree of hopeless love, +however desperate and sincere, can ever continue for years to embitter +life. There must be hope—there must be uncertainty—there must be +reciprocity, to enable the tyrant of the soul to secure a dominion of +very long duration over a manly and well-constituted mind, which is +itself desirous to <i>will</i> its freedom. The memory of Augusta had long +faded from Josiah's thoughts, or was remembered only as a pleasing, but +melancholy and unsubstantial dream, while he was straining forward in +pursuit of a yet nobler and coyer mistress, in a word, of Knowledge +herself.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_253" id="vol_i_Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span></p> + +<p>Every hour that he could spare from his parochial duties, which he +discharged with zeal honourable to his heart and head, was devoted to +his studies, and spent among his books. But this chase of wisdom, though +in itself interesting and dignified, was indulged to an excess which +diminished the respectability, nay, the utility, of the deceived +student; and he forgot, amid the luxury of deep and dark investigations, +that society has its claims, and that the knowledge which is unimparted, +is necessarily a barren talent, and is lost to society, like the miser's +concealed hoard, by the death of the proprietor. His studies were also +under the additional disadvantage, that, being pursued for the +gratification of a desultory longing after knowledge, and directed to no +determined object, they turned on points rather curious than useful, and +while they served for the amusement of the student himself, promised +little utility to mankind at large.</p> + +<p>Bewildered amid abstruse researches, metaphysical and historical, Mr. +Cargill, living only for himself and his books, acquired many ludicrous +habits, which exposed the secluded student to the ridicule of the world, +and which tinged, though they did not altogether obscure, the natural +civility of an amiable disposition, as well as the acquired habits of +politeness which he had learned in the good society that frequented Lord +Bidmore's mansion. He not only indulged in neglect of dress and +appearance, and all those ungainly tricks which men are apt to acquire +by living very much alone, but besides, and especially, he became +probably the most abstracted and absent man of a profession peculiarly +li<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_254" id="vol_i_Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span>able to cherish such habits. No man fell so regularly into the painful +dilemma of mistaking, or, in Scottish phrase, <i>miskenning</i>, the person +he spoke to, or more frequently enquired of an old maid for her +husband, of a childless wife about her young people, of the distressed +widower for the spouse at whose funeral he himself had assisted but a +fortnight before; and none was ever more familiar with strangers whom he +had never seen, or seemed more estranged from those who had a title to +think themselves well known to him. The worthy man perpetually +confounded sex, age, and calling; and when a blind beggar extended his +hand for charity, he has been known to return the civility by taking off +his hat, making a low bow, and hoping his worship was well.</p> + +<p>Among his brethren, Mr. Cargill alternately commanded respect by the +depth of his erudition, and gave occasion to laughter from his odd +peculiarities. On the latter occasions he used abruptly to withdraw from +the ridicule he had provoked; for notwithstanding the general mildness +of his character, his solitary habits had engendered a testy impatience +of contradiction, and a keener sense of pain arising from the satire of +others, than was natural to his unassuming disposition. As for his +parishioners, they enjoyed, as may reasonably be supposed, many a hearty +laugh at their pastor's expense, and were sometimes, as Mrs. Dods +hinted, more astonished than edified by his learning; for in pursuing a +point of biblical criticism, he did not altogether remember that he was +addressing a popular and unlearned assembly, not delivering a <i>concio ad +clerum</i>—a mistake, not arising from any conceit of his learning, or +wish to display it, but from <span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_255" id="vol_i_Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span>the same absence of mind which induced an +excellent divine, when preaching before a party of criminals condemned +to death, to break off by promising the wretches, who were to suffer +next morning, “the rest of the discourse at the first proper +opportunity.” But all the neighbourhood acknowledged Mr. Cargill's +serious and devout discharge of his ministerial duties; and the poorer +parishioners forgave his innocent peculiarities, in consideration of his +unbounded charity; while the heritors, if they ridiculed the +abstractions of Mr. Cargill on some subjects, had the grace to recollect +that they had prevented him from suing an augmentation of stipend, +according to the fashion of the clergy around him, or from demanding at +their hands a new manse, or the repair of the old one. He once, indeed, +wished that they would amend the roof of his book-room, which “rained +in”<a name="vol_i_FNanchor_23_23" id="vol_i_FNanchor_23_23"></a><a href="#vol_i_Footnote_23_23" class="fnanchor">[23]</a> in a very pluvious manner; but receiving no direct answer from +our friend Meiklewham, who neither relished the proposal nor saw means +of eluding it, the minister quietly made the necessary repairs at his +own expense, and gave the heritors no farther trouble on the subject.</p> + +<p>Such was the worthy divine whom our <i>bon vivant</i> at the Cleikum Inn +hoped to conciliate by a <span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_256" id="vol_i_Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span>good dinner and Cockburn's particular; an +excellent menstruum in most cases, but not likely to be very efficacious +on the present occasion.</p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol_i_CHAPTER_XVII" id="vol_i_CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII.</h2> + +<h3>THE ACQUAINTANCE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">'Twixt us thus the difference trims:—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Using head instead of limbs,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">You have read what I have seen;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Using limbs instead of head,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">I have seen what you have read—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Which way does the balance lean?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="citation"> +<span class="smcap">Butler</span>.<br /> +</p> + + +<p>Our traveller, rapid in all his resolutions and motions, strode stoutly +down the street, and arrived at the Manse, which was, as we have already +described it, all but absolutely ruinous. The total desolation and want +of order about the door, would have argued the place uninhabited, had it +not been for two or three miserable tubs with suds, or such like +sluttish contents, which were left there, that those who broke their +shins among them might receive a sensible proof, that “here the hand of +woman had been.” The door being half off its hinges, the entrance was +for the time protected by a broken harrow, which must necessarily be +removed before entry could be obtained. The little garden, which might +have given an air of comfort to the old house had it been kept in any +order, was abandoned to a desolation, of which that of the sluggard<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_257" id="vol_i_Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span> was +only a type; and the minister's man, an attendant always proverbial for +doing half work, and who seemed in the present instance to do none, was +seen among docks and nettles, solacing himself with the few gooseberries +which remained on some moss-grown bushes. To him Mr. Touchwood called +loudly, enquiring after his master; but the clown, conscious of being +taken in flagrant delict, as the law says, fled from him like a guilty +thing, instead of obeying his summons, and was soon heard <i>hupping</i> and +<i>geeing</i> to the cart, which he had left on the other side of the broken +wall.</p> + +<p>Disappointed in his application to the man-servant, Mr. Touchwood +knocked with his cane, at first gently, then harder, holloaed, bellowed, +and shouted, in the hope of calling the attention of some one within +doors, but received not a word in reply. At length, thinking that no +trespass could be committed upon so forlorn and deserted an +establishment, he removed the obstacles to entrance with such a noise as +he thought must necessarily have alarmed some one, if there was any live +person about the house at all. All was still silent; and, entering a +passage where the damp walls and broken flags corresponded to the +appearance of things out of doors, he opened a door to the left, which, +wonderful to say, still had a latch remaining, and found himself in the +parlour, and in the presence of the person whom he came to visit.</p> + +<p>Amid a heap of books and other literary lumber, which had accumulated +around him, sat, in his well-worn leathern elbow chair, the learned +minister of St. Ronan's; a thin, spare man, beyond the middle age, of a +dark complexion, but with eyes which, though now obscured and vacant, +had been once bright, soft<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_258" id="vol_i_Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span>, and expressive, and whose features seemed +interesting, the rather that, notwithstanding the carelessness of his +dress, he was in the habit of performing his ablutions with Eastern +precision; for he had forgot neatness, but not cleanliness. His hair +might have appeared much more disorderly, had it not been thinned by +time, and disposed chiefly around the sides of his countenance and the +back part of his head; black stockings, ungartered, marked his +professional dress, and his feet were thrust into the old slipshod +shoes, which served him instead of slippers. The rest of his garments, +as far as visible, consisted in a plaid nightgown wrapt in long folds +round his stooping and emaciated length of body, and reaching down to +the slippers aforesaid. He was so intently engaged in studying the book +before him, a folio of no ordinary bulk, that he totally disregarded the +noise which Mr. Touchwood made in entering the room, as well as the +coughs and hems with which he thought it proper to announce his +presence.</p> + +<p>No notice being taken of these inarticulate signals, Mr. Touchwood, +however great an enemy he was to ceremony, saw the necessity of +introducing his business, as an apology for his intrusion.</p> + +<p>“Hem! sir—Ha, hem!—You see before you a person in some distress for +want of society, who has taken the liberty to call on you as a good +pastor, who may be, in Christian charity, willing to afford him a little +of your company, since he is tired of his own.”</p> + +<p>Of this speech Mr. Cargill only understood the words “distress” and +“charity,” sounds with which he was well acquainted, and which never +failed to produce some effect on him. He looked at his visitor with<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_259" id="vol_i_Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span> +lack-lustre eye, and, without correcting the first opinion which he had +formed, although the stranger's plump and sturdy frame, as well as his +nicely-brushed coat, glancing cane, and, above all, his upright and +self-satisfied manner, resembled in no respect the dress, form, or +bearing of a mendicant, he quietly thrust a shilling into his hand, and +relapsed into the studious contemplation which the entrance of Touchwood +had interrupted.</p> + +<p>“Upon my word, my good sir,” said his visitor, surprised at a degree of +absence of mind which he could hardly have conceived possible, “you have +entirely mistaken my object.”</p> + +<p>“I am sorry my mite is insufficient, my friend,” said the clergyman, +without again raising his eyes, “it is all I have at present to bestow.”</p> + +<p>“If you will have the kindness to look up for a moment, my good sir,” +said the traveller, “you may possibly perceive that you labour under a +considerable mistake.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Cargill raised his head, recalled his attention, and, seeing that he +had a well-dressed, respectable-looking person before him, he exclaimed +in much confusion, “Ha!—yes—on my word, I was so immersed in my +book—I believe—I think I have the pleasure to see my worthy friend, +Mr. Lavender?”</p> + +<p>“No such thing, Mr. Cargill,” replied Mr Touchwood. “I will save you the +trouble of trying to recollect me—you never saw me before.—But do not +let me disturb your studies—I am in no hurry, and my business can wait +your leisure.”</p> + +<p>“I am much obliged,” said Mr. Cargill; “have the goodness to take a +chair, if you can find one—I have a train of thought to recover—a +slight calculation to finish—and then I am at your command.”</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_260" id="vol_i_Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span></p> +<p>The visitor found among the broken furniture, not without difficulty, a +seat strong enough to support his weight, and sat down, resting upon +his cane, and looking attentively at his host, who very soon became +totally insensible of his presence. A long pause of total silence +ensued, only disturbed by the rustling leaves of the folio from which +Mr. Cargill seemed to be making extracts, and now and then by a little +exclamation of surprise and impatience, when he dipped his pen, as +happened once or twice, into his snuff-box, instead of the inkstandish +which stood beside it. At length, just as Mr. Touchwood began to think +the scene as tedious as it was singular, the abstracted student raised +his head, and spoke as if in soliloquy, “From Acon, Accor, or St. John +d'Acre, to Jerusalem, how far?”</p> + +<p>“Twenty-three miles north north-west,” answered his visitor, without +hesitation.</p> + +<p>Mr. Cargill expressed no more surprise at a question which he had put to +himself being answered by the voice of another, than if he had found the +distance on the map, and indeed, was not probably aware of the medium +through which his question had been solved; and it was the tenor of the +answer alone which he attended to in his reply.—“Twenty-three +miles—Ingulphus,” laying his hand on the volume, “and Jeffrey Winesauf, +do not agree in this.”</p> + +<p>“They may both be d——d, then, for lying block-heads,” answered the +traveller.</p> + +<p>“You might have contradicted their authority, sir, without using such an +expression,” said the divine, gravely.</p> + +<p>“I cry you mercy, Doctor,” said Mr. Touc<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_261" id="vol_i_Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span>hwood; “but would you compare +these parchment fellows with me, that have made my legs my compasses +over great part of the inhabited world?”</p> + +<p>“You have been in Palestine, then?” said Mr. Cargill, drawing himself +upright in his chair, and speaking with eagerness and with interest.</p> + +<p>“You may swear that, Doctor, and at Acre too. Why, I was there the month +after Boney had found it too hard a nut to crack.—I dined with Sir +Sydney's chum, old Djezzar Pacha, and an excellent dinner we had, but +for a dessert of noses and ears brought on after the last remove, which +spoiled my digestion. Old Djezzar thought it so good a joke, that you +hardly saw a man in Acre whose face was not as flat as the palm of my +hand—Gad, I respect my olfactory organ, and set off the next morning as +fast as the most cursed hard-trotting dromedary that ever fell to poor +pilgrim's lot could contrive to tramp.”</p> + +<p>“If you have really been in the Holy Land, sir,” said Mr. Cargill, whom +the reckless gaiety of Touchwood's manner rendered somewhat suspicious +of a trick, “you will be able materially to enlighten me on the subject +of the Crusades.”</p> + +<p>“They happened before my time, Doctor,” replied the traveller.</p> + +<p>“You are to understand that my curiosity refers to the geography of the +countries where these events took place,” answered Mr. Cargill.</p> + +<p>“O! as to that matter, you are lighted on your feet,” said Mr. +Touchwood; “for the time present I can fit you. Turk, Arab, Copt, and +Druse, I know every one of them, and can make you as well acquainted +with them as myself. Without stirring a step beyond your threshold,<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_262" id="vol_i_Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span> you +shall know Syria as well as I do.—But one good turn deserves +another—in that case, you must have the goodness to dine with me.”</p> + +<p>“I go seldom abroad, sir,” said the minister, with a good deal of +hesitation, for his habits of solitude and seclusion could not be +entirely overcome, even by the expectation raised by the traveller's +discourse; “yet I cannot deny myself the pleasure of waiting on a +gentleman possessed of so much experience.”</p> + +<p>“Well then,” said Mr. Touchwood, “three be the hour—I never dine later, +and always to a minute—and the place, the Cleikum Inn, up the way; +where Mrs. Dods is at this moment busy in making ready such a dinner as +your learning has seldom seen, Doctor, for I brought the receipts from +the four different quarters of the globe.”</p> + +<p>Upon this treaty they parted; and Mr. Cargill, after musing for a short +while upon the singular chance which had sent a living man to answer +those doubts for which he was in vain consulting ancient authorities, at +length resumed, by degrees, the train of reflection and investigation +which Mr. Touchwood's visit had interrupted, and in a short time lost +all recollection of his episodical visitor, and of the engagement which +he had formed.</p> + +<p>Not so Mr. Touchwood, who, when not occupied with business of real +importance, had the art, as the reader may have observed, to make a +prodigious fuss about nothing at all. Upon the present occasion, he +bustled in and out of the kitchen, till Mrs. Dods lost patience, and +threatened to pin the dish-clout to his tail; a menace which he +pardoned, in consideration, that in all the countries which he had +visited, which are sufficiently civilized to boast of cooks, th<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_263" id="vol_i_Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span>ese +artists, toiling in their fiery element, have a privilege to be testy +and impatient. He therefore retreated from the torrid region of Mrs. +Dods's microcosm, and employed his time in the usual devices of +loiterers, partly by walking for an appetite, partly by observing the +progress of his watch towards three o'clock, when he had happily +succeeded in getting an employment more serious. His table, in the blue +parlour, was displayed with two covers, after the fairest fashion of the +Cleikum Inn; yet the landlady, with a look “civil but sly,” contrived to +insinuate a doubt whether the clergyman would come, “when a' was dune.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Touchwood scorned to listen to such an insinuation until the fated +hour arrived, and brought with it no Mr. Cargill. The impatient +entertainer allowed five minutes for difference of clocks, and variation +of time, and other five for the procrastination of one who went little +into society. But no sooner were the last five minutes expended, than he +darted off for the Manse, not, indeed, much like a greyhound or a deer, +but with the momentum of a corpulent and well-appetized elderly +gentleman, who is in haste to secure his dinner. He bounced without +ceremony into the parlour, where he found the worthy divine clothed in +the same plaid nightgown, and seated in the very elbow-chair, in which +he had left him five hours before. His sudden entrance recalled to Mr. +Cargill, not an accurate, but something of a general, recollection, of +what had passed in the morning, and he hastened to apologize with +“Ha!—indeed—already?—upon my word, Mr. A—a—, I mean my dear +friend—I am afraid I have used you ill—I forgot to order any +dinner—but we will do our best.—Eppie—Eppie!”</p> + +<p>Not at the first<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_264" id="vol_i_Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span>, second, nor third call, but <i>ex intervallo</i>, as the +lawyers express it, Eppie, a bare-legged, shock-headed, thick-ankled, +red-armed wench, entered, and announced her presence by an emphatic +“What's your wull?”</p> + +<p>“Have you got any thing in the house for dinner, Eppie?”</p> + +<p>“Naething but bread and milk, plenty o't—what should I have?”</p> + +<p>“You see, sir,” said Mr. Cargill, “you are like to have a Pythagorean +entertainment; but you are a traveller, and have doubtless been in your +time thankful for bread and milk.”</p> + +<p>“But never when there was any thing better to be had,” said Mr. +Touchwood. “Come, Doctor, I beg your pardon, but your wits are fairly +gone a wool-gathering; it was <i>I</i> invited <i>you</i> to dinner, up at the inn +yonder, and not you me.”</p> + +<p>“On my word, and so it was,” said Mr. Cargill; “I knew I was quite +right—I knew there was a dinner engagement betwixt us, I was sure of +that, and that is the main point.—Come, sir, I wait upon you.”</p> + +<p>“Will you not first change your dress?” said the visitor, seeing with +astonishment that the divine proposed to attend him in his plaid +nightgown; “why, we shall have all the boys in the village after us—you +will look like an owl in sunshine, and they will flock round you like so +many hedge-sparrows.”</p> + +<p>“I will get my clothes instantly,” said the worthy clergyman; “I will +get ready directly—I am really ashamed to keep you waiting, my dear +Mr.—eh—eh—your name has this instant escaped me.”</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_265" id="vol_i_Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span></p> +<p>“It is Touchwood, sir, at your service; I do not believe you ever heard +it before,” answered the traveller.</p> + +<p>“True—right—no more I have—well, my good Mr. Touchstone, will you sit +down an instant until we see what we can do?—strange slaves we make +ourselves to these bodies of ours, Mr. Touchstone—the clothing and the +sustaining of them costs us much thought and leisure, which might be +better employed in catering for the wants of our immortal spirits.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Touchwood thought in his heart that never had Bramin or Gymnosophist +less reason to reproach himself with excess in the indulgence of the +table, or of the toilet, than the sage before him; but he assented to +the doctrine, as he would have done to any minor heresy, rather than +protract matters by farther discussing the point at present. In a short +time the minister was dressed in his Sunday's suit, without any farther +mistake than turning one of his black stockings inside out; and Mr. +Touchwood, happy as was Boswell when he carried off Dr. Johnson in +triumph to dine with Strahan and John Wilkes, had the pleasure of +escorting him to the Cleikum Inn.</p> + +<p>In the course of the afternoon they became more familiar, and the +familiarity led to their forming a considerable estimate of each other's +powers and acquirements. It is true, the traveller thought the student +too pedantic, too much attached to systems, which, formed in solitude, +he was unwilling to renounce, even when contradicted by the voice and +testimony of experience; and, moreover, considered his utter inattention +to the quality of what he eat and drank, as unworthy of a rational, that +is, of a cooking c<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_266" id="vol_i_Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span>reature, or of a being who, as defined by Johnson, +holds his dinner as the most important business of the day. Cargill did +not act up to this definition, and was, therefore, in the eyes of his +new acquaintance, so far ignorant and uncivilized. What then? He was +still a sensible, intelligent man, however abstemious and bookish.</p> + +<p>On the other hand, the divine could not help regarding his new friend as +something of an epicure or belly-god, nor could he observe in him either +the perfect education, or the polished bearing, which mark the gentleman +of rank, and of which, while he mingled with the world, he had become a +competent judge. Neither did it escape him, that in the catalogue of Mr. +Touchwood's defects, occurred that of many travellers, a slight +disposition to exaggerate his own personal adventures, and to prose +concerning his own exploits. But then, his acquaintance with Eastern +manners, existing now in the same state in which they were found during +the time of the Crusades, formed a living commentary on the works of +William of Tyre, Raymund of Saint Giles, the Moslem annals of +Abulfaragi, and other historians of the dark period, with which his +studies were at present occupied.</p> + +<p>A friendship, a companionship at least, was therefore struck up hastily +betwixt these two originals; and to the astonishment of the whole parish +of St. Ronan's, the minister thereof was seen once more leagued and +united with an individual of his species, generally called among them +the Cleikum Nabob. Their intercourse sometimes consisted in long walks, +which they took in company, traversing, however, as limited a space of +ground, as if it had been actually roped in for their pedestrian +exercise. Their parade <span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_267" id="vol_i_Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span>was, according to circumstances, a low haugh at +the nether end of the ruinous hamlet, or the esplanade in the front of +the old castle; and, in either case, the direct longitude of their +promenade never exceeded a hundred yards. Sometimes, but rarely, the +divine took share of Mr. Touchwood's meal, though less splendidly set +forth than when he was first invited to partake of it; for, like the +owner of the gold cup in Parnell's Hermit, when cured of his +ostentation,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">——“Still he welcomed, but with less of cost.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>On these occasions, the conversation was not of the regular and +compacted nature, which passes betwixt men, as they are ordinarily +termed, of this world. On the contrary, the one party was often thinking +of Saladin and Cœur de Lion, when the other was haranguing on Hyder +Ali and Sir Eyre Coote. Still, however, the one spoke, and the other +seemed to listen; and, perhaps, the lighter intercourse of society, +where amusement is the sole object, can scarcely rest on a safer and +more secure basis.</p> + +<p>It was on one of the evenings when the learned divine had taken his +place at Mr. Touchwood's social board, or rather at Mrs. Dods's,—for a +cup of excellent tea, the only luxury which Mr. Cargill continued to +partake of with some complacence, was the regale before them,—that a +card was delivered to the Nabob.</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>“Mr. and Miss Mowbray see company at Shaws-Castle on the twentieth +current, at two o'clock—a <i>déjeûner</i>—dresses in character +admitted—A dramatic picture.”</p></div> + +<p>“See company? the more fools they,<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_268" id="vol_i_Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span>” he continued by way of comment. “See +company?—choice phrases are ever commendable—and this piece of +pasteboard is to intimate that one may go and meet all the fools of the +parish, if they have a mind—in my time they asked the honour, or the +pleasure, of a stranger's company. I suppose, by and by, we shall have +in this country the ceremonial of a Bedouin's tent, where every ragged +Hadgi, with his green turban, comes in slap without leave asked, and has +his black paw among the rice, with no other apology than Salam +Alicum.—‘Dresses in character—Dramatic picture’—what new tomfoolery +can that be?—but it does not signify.—Doctor! I say Doctor!—but he is +in the seventh heaven—I say, Mother Dods, you who know all the news—Is +this the feast that was put off until Miss Mowbray should be better?”</p> + +<p>“Troth is it, Maister Touchwood—they are no in the way of giving twa +entertainments in one season—no very wise to gie ane maybe—but they +ken best.”</p> + +<p>“I say, Doctor, Doctor!—Bless his five wits, he is charging the +Moslemah with stout King Richard—I say, Doctor, do you know any thing +of these Mowbrays?”</p> + +<p>“Nothing extremely particular,” answered Mr. Cargill, after a pause; “it +is an ordinary tale of greatness, which blazes in one century, and is +extinguished in the next. I think Camden says, that Thomas Mowbray, who +was Grand-Marshal of England, succeeded to that high office, as well as +to the Dukedom of Norfolk, as grandson of Roger Bigot, in 1301.”</p> + +<p>“Pshaw, man, you are back into the 14th century—I mean these Mowbrays +of St. Ro<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_269" id="vol_i_Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span>nan's—now, don't fall asleep again until you have answered my +question—and don't look so like a startled hare—I am speaking no +treason.”</p> + +<p>The clergyman floundered a moment, as is usual with an absent man who is +recovering the train of his ideas, or a somnambulist when he is suddenly +awakened, and then answered, still with hesitation,—</p> + +<p>“Mowbray of St. Ronan's?—ha—eh—I know—that is—I did know the +family.”</p> + +<p>“Here they are going to give a masquerade, a <i>bal paré</i>, private +theatricals, I think, and what not,” handing him the card.</p> + +<p>“I saw something of this a fortnight ago,” said Mr. Cargill; “indeed, I +either had a ticket myself, or I saw such a one as that.”</p> + +<p>“Are you sure you did not attend the party, Doctor?” said the Nabob.</p> + +<p>“Who attend? I? you are jesting, Mr. Touchwood.”</p> + +<p>“But are you quite positive?” demanded Mr. Touchwood, who had observed, +to his infinite amusement, that the learned and abstracted scholar was +so conscious of his own peculiarities, as never to be very sure on any +such subject.</p> + +<p>“Positive!” he repeated with embarrassment; “my memory is so wretched +that I never like to be positive—but had I done any thing so far out of +my usual way, I must have remembered it, one would think—and—I <i>am</i> +positive I was not there.”</p> + +<p>“Neither could you, Doctor,” said the Nabob, laughing at the process by +which his friend reasoned himself into confidence, “for it did not take +place—it was adjourned, and this is the seco<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_270" id="vol_i_Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span>nd invitation—there will +be one for you, as you had a card to the former.—Come, Doctor, you must +go—you and I will go together—I as an Imaum—I can say my Bismillah +with any Hadgi of them all—You as a cardinal, or what you like best.”</p> + +<p>“Who, I?—it is unbecoming my station, Mr. Touchwood,” said the +clergyman—“a folly altogether inconsistent with my habits.”</p> + +<p>“All the better—you shall change your habits.”</p> + +<p>“You had better gang up and see them, Mr. Cargill,” said Mrs. Dods; “for +it's maybe the last sight ye may see of Miss Mowbray—they say she is to +be married and off to England ane of thae odd-come-shortlies, wi' some +of the gowks about the Waal down-by.”</p> + +<p>“Married!” said the clergyman; “it is impossible!”</p> + +<p>“But where's the impossibility, Mr. Cargill, when ye see folk marry +every day, and buckle them yoursell into the bargain?—Maybe ye think +the puir lassie has a bee in her bannet; but ye ken yoursell if naebody +but wise folk were to marry, the warld wad be ill peopled. I think it's +the wise folk that keep single, like yoursell and me, Mr. Cargill.—Gude +guide us!—are ye weel?—will ye taste a drap o' something?”</p> + +<p>“Sniff at my ottar of roses,” said Mr. Touchwood; “the scent would +revive the dead—why, what in the devil's name is the meaning of +this?—you were quite well just now.”</p> + +<p>“A sudden qualm,” said Mr. Cargill, recovering himself.</p> + +<p>“Oh! Mr. Cargill,” said Dame Dods, “this comes of your lang fasts.”</p> + +<p>“R<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_271" id="vol_i_Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span>ight, dame,” subjoined Mr. Touchwood; “and of breaking them with sour +milk and pease bannock—the least morsel of Christian food is rejected +by stomach, just as a small gentleman refuses the visit of a creditable +neighbour, lest he see the nakedness of the land—ha! ha!”</p> + +<p>“And there is really a talk of Miss Mowbray of St Ronan's being +married?” said the clergyman.</p> + +<p>“Troth is there,” said the dame; “it's Trotting Nelly's news; and though +she likes a drappie, I dinna think she would invent a lee or carry +ane—at least to me, that am a gude customer.”</p> + +<p>“This must be looked to,” said Mr. Cargill, as if speaking to himself.</p> + +<p>“In troth, and so it should,” said Dame Dods; “it's a sin and a shame if +they should employ the tinkling cymbal they ca' Chatterly, and sic a +Presbyterian trumpet as yoursell in the land, Mr. Cargill; and if ye +will take a fule's advice, ye winna let the multure be ta'en by your ain +mill, Mr. Cargill.”</p> + +<p>“True, true, good Mother Dods,” said the Nabob; “gloves and hatbands are +things to be looked after, and Mr. Cargill had better go down to this +cursed festivity with me, in order to see after his own interest.”</p> + +<p>“I must speak with the young lady,” said the clergyman, still in a brown +study.</p> + +<p>“Right, right, my boy of black-letter,” said the Nabob; “with me you +shall go, and we'll bring them to submission to mother-church, I warrant +you—Why, the idea of being cheated in such a way, would scare a Santon +out of his trance.—What dress will you wear?”</p> + +<p>“My own, to be sure,” said the divine, starting from his reverie.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_272" id="vol_i_Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span></p> +<p>“True, thou art right again—they may want to knit the knot on the spot, +and who would be married by a parson in masquerade?—We go to the +entertainment though—it is a done thing.”</p> + +<p>The clergyman assented, p<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_273" id="vol_i_Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span>rovided he should receive an invitation; and as +that was found at the Manse, he had no excuse for retracting, even if he +had seemed to desire one.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol_i_CHAPTER_XVIII" id="vol_i_CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII.</h2> + +<h3>FORTUNE'S FROLICS.</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"><p><i>Count Basset.</i> We gentlemen, whose carriages run on the four aces, +are apt to have a wheel out of order.</p></div> + +<p class="citation"> +<i>The Provoked Husband.</i><br /> +</p> + + +<p>Our history must now look a little backwards; and although it is rather +foreign to our natural style of composition, it must speak more in +narrative, and less in dialogue, rather telling what happened, than its +effects upon the actors. Our purpose, however, is only conditional, for +we foresee temptations which may render it difficult for us exactly to +keep it.</p> + +<p>The arrival of the young Earl of Etherington at the salutiferous +fountain of St. Ronan's had produced the strongest sensation; +especially, as it was joined with the singular accident of the attempt +upon his lordship's person, as he took a short cut through the woods on +foot, at a distance from his equipage and servants. The gallantry with +which he beat off the highwayman, was only equal to his generosity; for +he declined making any researches after the poor devil, although his +lordship had received a severe wound in the scuffle.</p> + +<p>Of<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_274" id="vol_i_Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span> the “three black Graces,” as they have been termed by one of the most +pleasant companions of our time, Law and Physic hastened to do homage +to Lord Etherington, represented by Mr. Meiklewham and Dr. Quackleben; +while Divinity, as favourable, though more coy, in the person of the +Reverend Mr. Simon Chatterly, stood on tiptoe to offer any service in +her power.</p> + +<p>For the honourable reason already assigned, his lordship, after thanking +Mr. Meiklewham, and hinting, that he might have different occasion for +his services, declined his offer to search out the delinquent by whom he +had been wounded; while to the care of the Doctor he subjected the cure +of a smart flesh-wound in the arm, together with a slight scratch on the +temple; and so very genteel was his behaviour on the occasion, that the +Doctor, in his anxiety for his safety, enjoined him a month's course of +the waters, if he would enjoy the comfort of a complete and perfect +recovery. Nothing so frequent, he could assure his lordship, as the +opening of cicatrized wounds; and the waters of St. Ronan's spring +being, according to Dr. Quackleben, a remedy for all the troubles which +flesh is heir to, could not fail to equal those of Barege, in +facilitating the discharge of all splinters or extraneous matter, which +a bullet may chance to incorporate with the human frame, to its great +annoyance. For he was wont to say, that although he could not declare +the waters which he patronised to be an absolute <i>panpharmacon</i>, yet he +would with word and pen maintain, that they possessed the principal +virtues of the most celebrated medicinal springs in the known world. In +short, the love of Alpheus for Arethusa was a mere jest, compared to +that which the Doctor entertained for his favourite fountain.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_275" id="vol_i_Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span></p> +<p>The new and noble guest, whose arrival so much illustrated these scenes +of convalescence and of gaiety, was not at first seen so much at the +ordinary, and other places of public resort, as had been the hope of the +worthy company assembled. His health and his wound proved an excuse for +making his visits to the society few and far between.</p> + +<p>But when he did appear, his manners and person were infinitely +captivating; and even the carnation-coloured silk handkerchief, which +suspended his wounded arm, together with the paleness and languor which +loss of blood had left on his handsome and open countenance, gave a +grace to the whole person which many of the ladies declared +irresistible. All contended for his notice, attracted at once by his +affability, and piqued by the calm and easy nonchalance with which it +seemed to be blended. The scheming and selfish Mowbray, the +coarse-minded and brutal Sir Bingo, accustomed to consider themselves, +and to be considered, as the first men of the party, sunk into +comparative insignificance. But chiefly Lady Penelope threw out the +captivations of her wit and her literature; while Lady Binks, trusting +to her natural charms, endeavoured equally to attract his notice. The +other nymphs of the Spa held a little back, upon the principle of that +politeness, which, at continental hunting parties, affords the first +shot at a fine piece of game, to the person of the highest rank present; +but the thought throbbed in many a fair bosom, that their ladyships +might miss their aim, in spite of the advantages thus allowed them, and +that there might then be room for less exalted, but perhaps not less +skilful, markswomen, to try their chance.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_276" id="vol_i_Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span></p> +<p>But while the Earl thus withdrew from public society, it was necessary, +at least natural, that he should choose some one with whom to share the +solitude of his own apartment; and Mowbray, superior in rank to the +half-pay whisky-drinking Captain MacTurk; in dash to Winterblossom, who +was broken down, and turned twaddler; and in tact and sense to Sir Bingo +Binks, easily manœuvred himself into his lordship's more intimate +society; and internally thanking the honest footpad, whose bullet had +been the indirect means of secluding his intended victim from all +society but his own, he gradually began to feel the way, and prove the +strength of his antagonist, at the various games of skill and hazard +which he introduced, apparently with the sole purpose of relieving the +tedium of a sick-chamber.</p> + +<p>Meiklewham, who felt, or affected, the greatest possible interest in his +patron's success, and who watched every opportunity to enquire how his +schemes advanced, received at first such favourable accounts as made him +grin from ear to ear, rub his hands, and chuckle forth such bursts of +glee as only the success of triumphant roguery could have extorted from +him. Mowbray looked grave, however, and checked his mirth.</p> + +<p>“There was something in it after all,” he said, “that he could not +perfectly understand. Etherington, an used hand—d——d sharp—up to +every thing, and yet he lost his money like a baby.”</p> + +<p>“And what the matter how he loses it, so you win it like a man?” said +his legal friend and adviser.</p> + +<p>“Why, hang it, I cannot tell,” replied Mowbray—“were it not that I +think he has scarce the impudenc<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_277" id="vol_i_Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span>e to propose such a thing to succeed, +curse me but I should think he was coming the old soldier over me, and +keeping up his game.—But no—he can scarce have the impudence to think +of that.—I find, however, that he has done Wolverine—cleaned out poor +Tom—though Tom wrote to me the precise contrary, yet the truth has +since come out—Well, I shall avenge him, for I see his lordship is to +be had as well as other folk.”</p> + +<p>“Weel, Mr. Mowbray,” said the lawyer, in a tone of affected sympathy, +“ye ken your own ways best—but the heavens will bless a moderate mind. +I would not like to see you ruin this poor lad, <i>funditus</i>, that is to +say, out and out. To lose some of the ready will do him no great harm, +and maybe give him a lesson he may be the better of as long as he +lives—but I wad not, as an honest man, wish you to go deeper—you +should spare the lad, Mr. Mowbray.”</p> + +<p>“Who spared <i>me</i>, Meiklewham?” said Mowbray, with a look and tone of +deep emphasis—“No, no—he must go through the mill—money and money's +worth.—His seat is called Oakendale—think of that, Mick—Oakendale! +Oh, name of thrice happy augury!—Speak not of mercy, Mick—the +squirrels of Oakendale must be dismounted, and learn to go a-foot.—What +mercy can the wandering lord of Troy expect among the Greeks?—The +Greeks!—I am a very Suliote—the bravest of Greeks.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">‘I think not of pity, I think not of fear,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He neither must know who would serve the Vizier.’<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>And necessity, Mick,” he concluded, with a tone something altered, +“necessity is as unrelenting a leader as any Vizier or Pacha, whom +Scanderbeg ever fought with, or Byron has <span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_278" id="vol_i_Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span>sung.”</p> + +<p>Meiklewham echoed his patron's ejaculation with a sound betwixt a +whine, a chuckle, and a groan; the first being designed to express his +pretended pity for the destined victim; the second his sympathy with his +patron's prospects of success; and the third being a whistle admonitory +of the dangerous courses through which his object was to be pursued.</p> + +<p>Suliote as he boasted himself, Mowbray had, soon after this +conversation, some reason to admit that,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“When Greek meets Greek, then comes the tug of war.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>The light skirmishing betwixt the parties was ended, and the serious +battle commenced with some caution on either side; each perhaps, +desirous of being master of his opponent's system of tactics, before +exposing his own. Piquet, the most beautiful game at which a man can +make sacrifice of his fortune, was one with which Mowbray had, for his +misfortune perhaps, been accounted, from an early age, a great +proficient, and in which the Earl of Etherington, with less experience, +proved no novice. They now played for such stakes as Mowbray's state of +fortune rendered considerable to him, though his antagonist appeared not +to regard the amount. And they played with various success; for, though +Mowbray at times returned with a smile of confidence the enquiring looks +of his friend Meiklewham, there were other occasions on which he seemed +to evade them, as if his own had a sad confession to make in reply.</p> + +<p>These alternations, though frequent, did no<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_279" id="vol_i_Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span>t occupy, after all, many +days; for Mowbray, a friend of all hours, spent much of his time in Lord +Etherington's apartment, and these few days were days of battle. In the +meantime, as his lordship was now sufficiently recovered to join the +Party at Shaws-Castle, and Miss Mowbray's health being announced as +restored, that proposal was renewed, with the addition of a dramatic +entertainment, the nature of which we shall afterwards have occasion to +explain. Cards were anew issued to all those who had been formerly +included in the invitation, and of course to Mr. Touchwood, as formerly +a resident at the Well, and now in the neighbourhood; it being +previously agreed among the ladies, that a Nabob, though sometimes a +dingy or damaged commodity, was not to be rashly or unnecessarily +neglected. As to the parson, he had been asked, of course, as an old +acquaintance of the Mowbray house, not to be left out when the friends +of the family were invited on a great scale; but his habits were well +known, and it was no more expected that he would leave his manse on such +an occasion, than that the kirk should loosen itself from its +foundations.</p> + +<p>It was after these arrangements had been made, that the Laird of St. +Ronan's suddenly entered Meiklewham's private apartment with looks of +exultation. The worthy scribe turned his spectacled nose towards his +patron, and holding in one hand the bunch of papers which he had been +just perusing, and in the other the tape with which he was about to tie +them up again, suspended that operation to await with open eyes and ears +the communication of Mowbray.</p> + +<p>“I have done him!” he said, exultingly, y<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_280" id="vol_i_Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span>et in a tone of voice lowered +almost to a whisper; “capotted his lordship for this bout—doubled my +capital, Mick, and something more.—Hush, don't interrupt me—we must +think of Clara now—she must share the sunshine, should it prove but a +blink before a storm.—You know, Mick, these two d——d women, Lady +Penelope and the Binks, have settled that they will have something like +a <i>bal paré</i> on this occasion, a sort of theatrical exhibition, and that +those who like it shall be dressed in character.—I know their +meaning—they think Clara has no dress fit for such foolery, and so they +hope to eclipse her; Lady Pen, with her old-fashioned, ill-set diamonds, +and my Lady Binks, with the new-fashioned finery which she swopt her +character for. But Clara shan't borne down so, by ——! I got that +affected slut, Lady Binks's maid, to tell me what her mistress had set +her mind on, and she is to wear a Grecian habit, forsooth, like one of +Will Allan's Eastern subjects.—But here's the rub—there is only one +shawl for sale in Edinburgh that is worth showing off in, and that is at +the Gallery of Fashion.—Now, Mick, my friend, that shawl must be had +for Clara, with the other trankums of muslin and lace, and so forth, +which you will find marked in the paper there.—Send instantly and +secure it, for, as Lady Binks writes by to-morrow's post, your order can +go by to-night's mail—There is a note for L.100.”</p> + +<p>From a mechanical habit of never refusing any thing, Meiklewham readily +took the note, but having looked at it through his spectacles, he +continued to hold it in his hand as he remonstrated with his +patron.—“This is a' very <span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_281" id="vol_i_Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span>kindly meant, St. Ronan's—very kindly meant; +and I wad be the last to say that Miss Clara does not merit respect and +kindness at your hand; but I doubt mickle if she wad care a bodle for +thae braw things. Ye ken yoursell, she seldom alters her fashions. Od, +she thinks her riding-habit dress eneugh for ony company; and if you +were ganging by good looks, so it is—if she had a thought mair colour, +poor dear.”</p> + +<p>“Well, well,” said Mowbray, impatiently, “let me alone to reconcile a +woman and a fine dress.”</p> + +<p>“To be sure, ye ken best,” said the writer; “but, after a', now, wad it +no be better to lay by this hundred pound in Tam Turnpenny's, in case +the young lady should want it afterhend, just for a sair foot?”</p> + +<p>“You are a fool, Mick; what signifies healing a sore foot, when there +will be a broken heart in the case?—No, no—get the things as I desire +you—we will blaze them down for one day at least; perhaps it will be +the beginning of a proper dash.”</p> + +<p>“Weel, weel, I wish it may be so,” answered Meiklewham; “but this young +Earl—hae ye found the weak point?—Can ye get a decerniture against +him, with expenses?—that is the question.”</p> + +<p>“I wish I could answer it,” said Mowbray, thoughtfully.—“Confound the +fellow—he is a cut above me in rank and in society too—belongs to the +great clubs, and is in with the Superlatives and Inaccessibles, and all +that sort of folk.—My training has been a peg lower—but, hang it, +there are better dogs bred in the kennel than in the parlour. I am up to +him, I think—at least I will soon know, Mick, whether I am or no, and +that is always one comfort. Never mind—do you execute my commission, +and take care you name no names—I must save my little Abigail's +reputation.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_282" id="vol_i_Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span></p> + +<p>They parted, Meiklewham to execute his patron's commission—his patron +to bring to the test those hopes, the uncertainty of which he could not +disguise from his own sagacity.</p> + +<p>Trusting to the continuance of his run of luck, Mowbray resolved to +bring affairs to a crisis that same evening. Every thing seemed in the +outset to favour his purpose. They had dined together in Lord +Etherington's apartments—his state of health interfered with the +circulation of the bottle, and a drizzly autumnal evening rendered +walking disagreeable, even had they gone no farther than the private +stable where Lord Etherington's horses were kept, under the care of a +groom of superior skill. Cards were naturally, almost necessarily, +resorted to, as the only alternative for helping away the evening, and +piquet was, as formerly, chosen for the game.</p> + +<p>Lord Etherington seemed at first indolently careless and indifferent +about his play, suffering advantages to escape him, of which, in a more +attentive state of mind, he could not have failed to avail himself. +Mowbray upbraided him with his inattention, and proposed a deeper stake, +in order to interest him in the game. The young nobleman complied; and +in the course of a few hands, the gamesters became both deeply engaged +in watching and profiting by the changes of fortune. These were so many, +so varied, and so unexpected, that the very souls of the players seemed +at length centred in the event of the struggle; and, by dint of doubling +stakes, the accumulated sum of a thousand pounds and upwards, upon each +side, came to be staked in the issue <span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_283" id="vol_i_Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span>of the game.—So large a risk +included all those funds which Mowbray commanded by his sister's +kindness, and nearly all his previous winnings, so to him the +alternative was victory or ruin. He could not hide his agitation, +however desirous to do so. He drank wine to supply himself with +courage—he drank water to cool his agitation; and at length bent +himself to play with as much care and attention as he felt himself +enabled to command.</p> + +<p>In the first part of the game their luck appeared tolerably equal, and +the play of both befitting gamesters who had dared to place such a sum +on the cast. But, as it drew towards a conclusion, fortune altogether +deserted him who stood most in need of her favour, and Mowbray, with +silent despair, saw his fate depend on a single trick, and that with +every odds against him, for Lord Etherington was elder hand. But how can +fortune's favour secure any one who is not true to himself?—By an +infraction of the laws of the game, which could only have been expected +from the veriest bungler that ever touched a card, Lord Etherington +called a point without showing it, and, by the ordinary rule, Mowbray +was entitled to count his own—and in the course of that and the next +hand, gained the game and swept the stakes. Lord Etherington showed +chagrin and displeasure, and seemed to think that the rigour of the game +had been more insisted upon than in courtesy it ought to have been, when +men were playing for so small a stake. Mowbray did not understand this +logic. A thousand pounds, he said, were in his eyes no nutshells; the +rules of piquet were insisted on by all but boys and women; and for his +part, he had rather not play at all than not play the game.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_284" id="vol_i_Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span></p> +<p>“So it would seem, my dear Mowbray,” said the Earl; “for on my soul, I +never saw so disconsolate a visage as thine during that unlucky +game—it withdrew all my attention from my hand; and I may safely say, +your rueful countenance has stood me in a thousand pounds. If I could +transfer thy long visage to canvass, I should have both my revenge and +my money; for a correct resemblance would be worth not a penny less than +the original has cost me.”</p> + +<p>“You are welcome to your jest, my lord,” said Mowbray, “it has been well +paid for; and I will serve you in ten thousand at the same rate. What +say you?” he proceeded, taking up and shuffling the cards, “will you do +yourself more justice in another game?—Revenge, they say, is sweet.”</p> + +<p>“I have no appetite for it this evening,” said the Earl, gravely; “if I +had, Mowbray, you might come by the worse. I do not <i>always</i> call a +point without showing it.”</p> + +<p>“Your lordship is out of humour with yourself for a blunder that might +happen to any man—it was as much my good luck as a good hand would have +been, and so fortune be praised.”</p> + +<p>“But what if with this Fortune had nought to do?” replied Lord +Etherington.—“What if, sitting down with an honest fellow and a friend +like yourself, Mowbray, a man should rather choose to lose his own +money, which he could afford, than to win what it might distress his +friend to part with?”</p> + +<p>“Supposing a case so far out of supposition, my lord,” answered Mowbray, +who felt the question ticklish—“for, with submission, the allegation is +easily made, and is totally incapable of proof<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_285" id="vol_i_Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span>—I should say, no one had +a right to think for me in such a particular, or to suppose that I +played for a higher stake than was convenient.”</p> + +<p>“And thus your friend, poor devil,” replied Lord Etherington, “would +lose his money, and run the risk of a quarrel into the boot!—We will +try it another way—Suppose this good-humoured and simple-minded +gamester had a favour of the deepest import to ask of his friend, and +judged it better to prefer his request to a winner than to a loser?”</p> + +<p>“If this applies to me, my lord,” replied Mowbray, “it is necessary I +should learn how I can oblige your lordship.”</p> + +<p>“That is a word soon spoken, but so difficult to be recalled, that I am +almost tempted to pause—but yet it must be said.—Mowbray, you have a +sister.”</p> + +<p>Mowbray started.—“I have indeed a sister, my lord; but I can conceive +no case in which her name can enter with propriety into our present +discussion.”</p> + +<p>“Again in the menacing mood!” said Lord Etherington, in his former tone; +“now, here is a pretty fellow—he would first cut my throat for having +won a thousand pounds from me, and then for offering to make his sister +a countess!”</p> + +<p>“A countess, my lord?” said Mowbray; “you are but jesting—you have +never even seen Clara Mowbray.”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps not—but what then?—I may have seen her picture, as Puff says +in the Critic, or fallen in love with her from rumour—or, to save +farther suppositions, as I see they render you impatient, I may be +satisfied with knowing that she is a beautiful and accomplished young +lady, with a large fortune.”</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_286" id="vol_i_Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span></p> +<p>“What fortune do you mean, my lord?” said Mowbray, recollecting with +alarm some claims, which, according to Meiklewham's view of the +subject, his sister might form upon his property.—“What estate?—there +is nothing belongs to our family, save these lands of St. Ronan's, or +what is left of them; and of these I am, my lord, an undoubted heir of +entail in possession.”</p> + +<p>“Be it so,” said the Earl, “for I have no claim on your mountain realms +here, which are, doubtless,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">——‘renown'd of old<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For knights, and squires, and barons bold;’<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>my views respect a much richer, though less romantic domain—a large +manor, hight Nettlewood. House old, but standing in the midst of such +glorious oaks—three thousand acres of land, arable, pasture, and +woodland, exclusive of the two closes, occupied by Widow Hodge and +Goodman Trampclod—manorial rights—mines and minerals—and the devil +knows how many good things besides, all lying in the vale of Bever.”</p> + +<p>“And what has my sister to do with all this?” asked Mowbray, in great +surprise.</p> + +<p>“Nothing; but that it belongs to her when she becomes Countess of +Etherington.”</p> + +<p>“It is, then, your lordship's property already?”</p> + +<p>“No, by Jove! nor can it, unless your sister honours me with her +approbation of my suit,” replied the Earl.</p> + +<p>“This is a sorer puzzle than one of Lady Penelope's charades, my lord,” +said Mr. Mowbray; “I must call in the assistance of the Reverend Mr. +Chatterly.”</p> + +<p>“You shall not need,” said Lord Etherington; “I wi<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_287" id="vol_i_Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span>ll give you the key, +but listen to me with patience.—You know that we nobles of England, +less jealous of our sixteen quarters than those on the continent, do +not take scorn to line our decayed ermines with the little cloth of gold +from the city; and my grandfather was lucky enough to get a wealthy +wife, with a halting pedigree,—rather a singular circumstance, +considering that her father was a countryman of yours. She had a +brother, however, still more wealthy than herself, and who increased his +fortune by continuing to carry on the trade which had first enriched his +family. At length he summed up his books, washed his hands of commerce, +and retired to Nettlewood, to become a gentleman; and here my much +respected grand-uncle was seized with the rage of making himself a man +of consequence. He tried what marrying a woman of family would do; but +he soon found that whatever advantage his family might derive from his +doing so, his own condition was but little illustrated. He next resolved +to become a man of family himself. His father had left Scotland when +very young, and bore, I blush to say, the vulgar name of Scrogie. This +hapless dissyllable my uncle carried in person to the herald office in +Scotland; but neither Lyon, nor Marchmont, nor Islay, nor Snadoun, +neither herald nor pursuivant, would patronise Scrogie.—Scrogie!—there +could nothing be made out of it—so that my worthy relative had recourse +to the surer side of the house, and began to found his dignity on his +mother's name of Mowbray. In this he was much more successful, and I +believe some sly fellow stole for him a slip from your own family tree, +Mr. Mowbray of St. Ronan's, which, I daresay, you have never missed. At +any rate, for his <i>argent</i> <span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_288" id="vol_i_Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span>and <i>or</i>, he got a handsome piece of +parchment, blazoned with a white lion for Mowbray, to be borne +quarterly, with three stunted or scrog-bushes for Scrogie, and became +thenceforth Mr. Scrogie Mowbray, or rather, as he subscribed himself, +Reginald (his former Christian name was Ronald) S. Mowbray. He had a son +who most undutifully laughed at all this, refused the honours of the +high name of Mowbray, and insisted on retaining his father's original +appellative of Scrogie, to the great annoyance of his said father's +ears, and damage of his temper.”</p> + +<p>“Why, faith, betwixt the two,” said Mowbray, “I own I should have +preferred my own name, and I think the old gentleman's taste rather +better than the young one's.”</p> + +<p>“True; but both were wilful, absurd originals, with a happy obstinacy of +temper, whether derived from Mowbray or Scrogie I know not, but which +led them so often into opposition, that the offended father, Reginald S. +Mowbray, turned his recusant son Scrogie fairly out of doors; and the +fellow would have paid for his plebeian spirit with a vengeance, had he +not found refuge with a surviving partner of the original Scrogie of +all, who still carried on the lucrative branch of traffic by which the +family had been first enriched. I mention these particulars to account, +in so far as I can, for the singular predicament in which I now find +myself placed.”</p> + +<p>“Proceed, my lord,” said Mr. Mowbray; “there is no denying the +singularity of your story, and I presume you are quite serious in giving +me such an extraordinary detail.”</p> + +<p>“Entirely so, upon my honour—and a most serious m<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_289" id="vol_i_Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span>atter it is, you will +presently find. When my worthy uncle, Mr. S. Mowbray, (for I will not +call him Scrogie even in the grave,) paid his debt to nature, every +body concluded he would be found to have disinherited his son, the +unfilial Scrogie, and so far every body was right—But it was also +generally believed that he would settle the estate on my father, Lord +Etherington, the son of his sister, and therein every one was wrong. For +my excellent grand-uncle had pondered with himself, that the favoured +name of Mowbray would take no advantage, and attain no additional +elevation, if his estate of Nettlewood (otherwise called Mowbray-Park) +should descend to our family without any condition; and with the +assistance of a sharp attorney, he settled it on me, then a schoolboy, +<i>on condition</i> that I should, before attaining the age of twenty-five +complete, take unto myself in holy wedlock a young lady of good fame, of +the name of Mowbray, and, by preference, of the house of St. Ronan's, +should a damsel of that house exist.—Now my riddle is read.”</p> + +<p>“And a very extraordinary one it is,” replied Mowbray, thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>“Confess the truth,” said Lord Etherington, laying his hand on his +shoulder; “you think the story will bear a grain of a scruple of doubt, +if not a whole scruple itself?”</p> + +<p>“At least, my lord,” answered Mowbray, “your lordship will allow, that, +being Miss Mowbray's only near relation, and sole guardian, I may, +without offence, pause upon a suit for her hand, made under such odd +circumstances.”</p> + +<p>“If you have the least doubt either respecting my rank or fortune, I can +give, of course, the most satisfactory references,” said the Earl of +Etherington.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_290" id="vol_i_Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span></p> +<p>“That I can easily believe, my lord,” said Mowbray; “nor do I in the +least fear deception, where detection would be so easy. Your lordship's +proceedings towards me, too,” (with a conscious glance at the bills he +still held in his hand,) “have, I admit, been such as to intimate some +such deep cause of interest as you have been pleased to state. But it +seems strange that your lordship should have permitted years to glide +away, without so much as enquiring after the young lady, who, I believe, +is the only person qualified as your grand-uncle's will requires, with +whom you can form an alliance. It appears to me, that long before now, +this matter ought to have been investigated; and that, even now, it +would have been more natural and more decorous to have at least seen my +sister before proposing for her hand.”</p> + +<p>“On the first point, my dear Mowbray,” said Lord Etherington, “I am free +to own to you, that, without meaning your sister the least affront, I +would have got rid of this clause if I could; for every man would fain +choose a wife for himself, and I feel no hurry to marry at all. But the +rogue-lawyers, after taking fees, and keeping me in hand for years, have +at length roundly told me the clause must be complied with, or +Nettlewood must have another master. So I thought it best to come down +here in person, in order to address the fair lady; but as accident has +hitherto prevented my seeing her, and as I found in her brother a man +who understands the world, I hope you will not think the worse of me, +that I have endeavoured in the outset to make you my friend. Truth is, I +shall be twenty-five in the course of a month; and w<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_291" id="vol_i_Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span>ithout your favour, +and the opportunities which only you can afford me, that seems a short +time to woo and win a lady of Miss Mowbray's merit.”</p> + +<p>“And what is the alternative if you do not form this proposed alliance, +my lord?” said Mowbray.</p> + +<p>“The bequest of my grand-uncle lapses,” said the Earl, “and fair +Nettlewood, with its old house, and older oaks, manorial rights, Hodge +Trampclod, and all, devolves on a certain cousin-german of mine, whom +Heaven of his mercy confound!”</p> + +<p>“You have left yourself little time to prevent such an event, my lord,” +said Mowbray; “but things being as I now see them, you shall have what +interest I can give you in the affair.—We must stand, however, on more +equal terms, my lord—I will condescend so far as to allow it would have +been inconvenient for me at this moment to have lost that game, but I +cannot in the circumstances think of acting as if I had fairly won it. +We must draw stakes, my lord.”</p> + +<p>“Not a word of that, if you really mean me kindly, my dear Mowbray. The +blunder was a real one, for I was indeed thinking, as you may suppose, +on other things than the showing my point—All was fairly lost and +won.—I hope I shall have opportunities of offering real services, which +may perhaps give me some right to your partial regard—at present we are +on equal footing on all sides—perfectly so.”</p> + +<p>“If your lordship thinks so,” said Mowbray,—and then passing rapidly to +what he felt he could say with more confidence,—“Indeed, at any rate, +no personal obligation to myself could prevent my doing my full duty as +guardian to my sister.”</p> + +<p>“Unquestionably, I desire nothing else,” replied the Earl of +Etherington.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_292" id="vol_i_Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span></p> +<p>“I must therefore understand that your lordship is quite serious in your +proposal; and that it is not to be withdrawn, even if upon acquaintance +with Miss Mowbray, you should not perhaps think her so deserving of your +lordship's attentions, as report may have spoken her.”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Mowbray,” replied the Earl, “the treaty between you and me shall be +as definite as if I were a sovereign prince, demanding in marriage the +sister of a neighbouring monarch, whom, according to royal etiquette, he +neither has seen nor could see. I have been quite frank with you, and I +have stated to you that my present motives for entering upon negotiation +are not personal, but territorial; when I know Miss Mowbray, I have no +doubt they will be otherwise. I have heard she is beautiful.”</p> + +<p>“Something of the palest, my lord,” answered Mowbray.</p> + +<p>“A fine complexion is the first attraction which is lost in the world of +fashion, and that which it is easiest to replace.”</p> + +<p>“Dispositions, my lord, may differ,” said Mowbray, “without faults on +either side. I presume your lordship has enquired into my sister's. She +is amiable, accomplished, sensible, and high-spirited; but yet”——</p> + +<p>“I understand you, Mr. Mowbray, and will spare you the pain of speaking +out. I have heard Miss Mowbray is in some respects—particular; to use a +broader word—a little whimsical.—No matter. She will have the less to +learn when she becomes a countess, and a woman of fashion.”</p> + +<p>“Are you serious, my lord?” said Mowbray.</p> + +<p>“I am—and I will speak my mind still more plainly. I hav<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_293" id="vol_i_Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span>e good temper, +and excellent spirits, and can endure a good deal of singularity in +those I live with. I have no doubt your sister and I will live happily +together—But in case it should prove otherwise, arrangements may be +made previously, which will enable us in certain circumstances to live +happily apart. My own estate is large, and Nettlewood will bear +dividing.”</p> + +<p>“Nay, then,” said Mowbray, “I have little more to say—nothing indeed +remains for enquiry, so far as your lordship is concerned. But my sister +must have free liberty of choice—so far as I am concerned, your +lordship's suit has my interest.”</p> + +<p>“And I trust we may consider it as a done thing?”</p> + +<p>“With Clara's approbation—certainly,” answered Mowbray.</p> + +<p>“I trust there is no chance of personal repugnance on the young lady's +part?” said the young peer.</p> + +<p>“I anticipate nothing of the kind, my lord,” answered Mowbray, “as I +presume there is no reason for any; but young ladies will be capricious, +and if Clara, after I have done and said all that a brother ought to do, +should remain repugnant, there is a point in the exertion of my +influence which it would be cruelty to pass.”</p> + +<p>The Earl of Etherington walked a turn through the apartment, then +paused, and said, in a grave and doubtful tone, “In the meanwhile, I am +bound, and the young lady is free, Mowbray. Is this quite fair?”</p> + +<p>“It is what happens in every case, my lord, where a gentleman proposes +for a lady,” answered Mowbray; “he must remain, of course, bound by his +offer, until, withi<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_294" id="vol_i_Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span>n a reasonable time, it is accepted or rejected. It +is not my fault that your lordship has declared your wishes to me, +before ascertaining Clara's inclination. But while as yet the matter is +between ourselves—I make you welcome to draw back if you think proper. +Clara Mowbray needs not push for a catch-match.”</p> + +<p>“Nor do I desire,” said the young nobleman, “any time to reconsider the +resolution which I have confided to you. I am not in the least fearful +that I shall change my mind on seeing your sister, and I am ready to +stand by the proposal which I have made to you.—If, however, you feel +so extremely delicately on my account,” he continued, “I can see and +even converse with Miss Mowbray at this fête of yours, without the +necessity of being at all presented to her—The character which I have +assumed in a manner obliges me to wear a mask.”</p> + +<p>“Certainly,” said the Laird of St. Ronan's, “and I am glad, for both our +sakes, your lordship thinks of taking a little law upon this occasion.”</p> + +<p>“I shall profit nothing by it,” said the Earl; “my doom is fixed before +I start—but if this mode of managing the matter will save your +conscience, I have no objection to it—it cannot consume much time, +which is what I have to look to.”</p> + +<p>They then shook hands and parted, without any farther discourse which +could interest the reader.</p> + +<p>Mowbray was glad to find himself alone, in order to think over what had +happened, and to ascertain the state of his own mind, which at present +was puzzling even to himself. He could not but feel that much greater +advantages of every kind might accrue to himself and his family from the +alliance of the wealthy young Earl, than could have been derived from<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_295" id="vol_i_Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span> +any share of his spoils which he had proposed to gain by superior +address in play, or greater skill on the turf. But his pride was hurt +when he recollected that he had placed himself entirely in Lord +Etherington's power; and the escape from absolute ruin which he had +made, solely by the sufferance of his opponent, had nothing in it +consolatory to his wounded feelings. He was lowered in his own eyes, +when he recollected how completely the proposed victim of his ingenuity +had seen through his schemes, and only abstained from baffling them +entirely, because to do so suited best with his own. There was a shade +of suspicion, too, which he could not entirely eradicate from his +mind.—What occasion had this young nobleman to preface, by the +voluntary loss of a brace of thousands, a proposal which must have been +acceptable in itself, without any such sacrifice? And why should he, +after all, have been so eager to secure his accession to the proposed +alliance, before he had even seen the lady who was the object of it? +However hurried for time, he might have waited the event at least of the +entertainment at Shaws-Castle, at which Clara was necessarily obliged to +make her appearance.—Yet such conduct, however unusual, was equally +inconsistent with any sinister intentions; since the sacrifice of a +large sum of money, and the declaration of his views upon a portionless +young lady of family, could scarcely be the preface to any unfair +practice. So that, upon the whole, Mowbray settled, that what was +uncommon in the Earl's conduct arose from the hasty and eager +disposition of a rich young Englishman, to whom money is of little +consequence, and who is too headlong in pursuit of the favourite plan of +the moment, to proce<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_296" id="vol_i_Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span>ed in the most rational or most ordinary manner. If, +however, there should prove any thing farther in the matter than he +could at present discover, Mowbray promised himself that the utmost +circumspection on his part could not fail to discover it, and that in +full time to prevent any ill consequences to his sister or himself.</p> + +<p>Immersed in such cogitations, he avoided the inquisitive presence of Mr. +Meiklewham, who, as usual, had been watching for him to learn how +matters were going on; and although it was now late, he mounted his +horse, and rode hastily to Shaws-Castle. On the way, he deliberated with +himself whether to mention to his sister the application which had been +made to him, in order to prepare her to receive the young Earl as a +suitor, favoured with her brother's approbation. “But no, no, no;” such +was the result of his contemplation. “She might take it into her head +that his thoughts were bent less upon having her for a countess, than on +obtaining possession of his grand-uncle's estate.—We must keep quiet,” +concluded he, “until her personal appearance and accomplishments may<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_297" id="vol_i_Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span> +appear at least to have some influence upon his choice.—We must say +nothing till this blessed entertainment has been given and received.”</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol_i_CHAPTER_XIX" id="vol_i_CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX.</h2> + +<h3>A LETTER.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Has he so long held out with me untired,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And stops he now for breath?—Well—Be it so.”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="citation"> +<i>Richard III.</i><br /> +</p> + + +<p>Mowbray had no sooner left the Earl's apartment, than the latter +commenced an epistle to a friend and associate, which we lay before the +reader, as best calculated to illustrate the views and motives of the +writer. It was addressed to Captain Jekyl, of the —— regiment of +Guards, at the Green Dragon, Harrowgate, and was of the following +tenor:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>“<span class="smcap">Dear Harry</span>,</p> + +<p>“I have expected you here these ten days past, anxiously as ever +man was looked for; and have now to charge your absence as high +treason to your sworn allegiance. Surely you do not presume, like +one of Napoleon's new-made monarchs, to grumble for independence, +as if your greatness were of your own making, or as if I had picked +you out of the whole of St. James's coffee-house to hold my +back-hand, for your sake, forsooth, not for my own? Wherefore, lay +aside all your own proper business, be it the pursuit of dowagers, +or the plucking of pigeons, and instantly repair to this place, +where I may speedily want your assistance.—<i>May</i> want it<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_298" id="vol_i_Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span>, said I? +Why, most negligent of friends and allies, I <i>have</i> wanted it +already, and that when it might have done me yeoman's service. +Know that I have had an affair since I came hither—have got hurt +myself, and have nearly shot my friend; and if I had, I might have +been hanged for it, for want of Harry Jekyl to bear witness in my +favour. I was so far on my road to this place, when, not choosing, +for certain reasons, to pass through the old village, I struck by a +footpath into the woods which separate it from the new Spa, leaving +my carriage and people to go the carriage-way. I had not walked +half a mile when I heard the footsteps of some one behind, and, +looking round, what should I behold but the face in the world which +I most cordially hate and abhor—I mean that which stands on the +shoulders of my right trusty and well-beloved cousin and +counsellor, Saint Francis. He seemed as much confounded as I was at +our unexpected meeting; and it was a minute ere he found breath to +demand what I did in Scotland, contrary to my promise, as he was +pleased to express it.—I retaliated, and charged him with being +here, in contradiction to his.—He justified, and said he had only +come down upon the express information that I was upon my road to +St. Ronan's.—Now, Harry, how the devil should he have known this +hadst thou been quite faithful? for I am sure, to no ear but thine +own did I breathe a whisper of my purpose.—Next, with the insolent +assumption of superiority, which he founds on what he calls the +rectitude of his purpose, he proposed we should both withdraw from +a neighbourhood into which we could bring nothing but +wretchedness.—I have told you how difficult it is to cope with the +calm and resolute manner that the devil gifts him with on such +occasions; but I was determined he should not carry the day this +time. I saw no chance for it, however, but to put myself into a +towering passion, which, thank Heaven, I can always do on<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_299" id="vol_i_Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span> short +notice.—I charged him with having imposed formerly on my youth, +and made himself judge of my rights; and I accompanied my defiance +with the strongest terms of irony and contempt, as well as with +demand of instant satisfaction. I had my travelling pistols with +me, (<i>et pour cause</i>,) and, to my surprise, my gentleman was +equally provided.—For fair play's sake, I made him take one of my +pistols—right Kuchenritters—a brace of balls in each, but that +circumstance I forgot.—I would fain have argued the matter a +little longer; but I thought at the time, and think still, that the +best arguments which he and I can exchange, must come from the +point of the sword, or the muzzle of the pistol.—We fired nearly +together, and I think both dropped—I am sure I did, but recovered +in a minute, with a damaged arm and a scratch on the temple—it was +the last which stunned me—so much for double-loaded pistols.—My +friend was invisible, and I had nothing for it but to walk to the +Spa, bleeding all the way like a calf, and tell a +raw-head-and-bloody-bone story about a footpad, which, but for my +earldom, and my gory locks, no living soul would have believed.</p> + +<p>“Shortly after, when I had been installed in a sick room, I had the +mortification to learn, that my own impatience had brought all this +mischief upon me, at a moment when I had every chance of getting +rid of my friend without trouble, had I but let him go on his own +errand; for it seems he had an appointment that morning with a +booby Baronet, who is said to be a bullet-slitter, and would +perhaps have rid me of Saint Francis without any trouble or risk on +my part. Meantime, his non-appearance at this rendezvous has placed +Master Francis Tyrrel, as he chooses to call himself, in the worst +odour possible with the gentry at the Spring, who have denounced +him as a coward and no gentleman.—What to think of the business +myself, I know not; and I much want your assistance to see what can +have become of <span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_300" id="vol_i_Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span>this fellow, who, like a spectre of ill omen, has so +often thwarted and baffled my best plans. My own confinement +renders me inactive, though my wound is fast healing. Dead he +cannot be; for, had he been mortally wounded, we should have heard +of him somewhere or other—he could not have vanished from the +earth like a bubble of the elements. Well and sound he cannot be; +for, besides that I am sure I saw him stagger and drop, firing his +pistol as he fell, I know him well enough to swear, that, had he +not been severely wounded, he would have first pestered me with his +accursed presence and assistance, and then walked forward with his +usual composure to settle matters with Sir Bingo Binks. +No—no—Saint Francis is none of those who leave such jobs half +finished—it is but doing him justice to say, he has the devil's +courage to back his own deliberate impertinence. But then, if +wounded severely, he must be still in this neighbourhood, and +probably in concealment—this is what I must discover, and I want +your assistance in my enquiries among the natives.—Haste hither, +Harry, as ever you look for good at my hand.</p> + +<p>“A good player, Harry, always studies to make the best of bad +cards—and so I have endeavoured to turn my wound to some account; +and it has given me the opportunity to secure Monsieur le Frere in +my interests. You say very truly, that it is of consequence to me +to know the character of this new actor on the disordered scene of +my adventures.—Know, then, he is that most incongruous of all +monsters—a Scotch Buck—how far from being buck of the season you +may easily judge. Every point of national character is opposed to +the pretensions of this luckless race, when they attempt to take on +them a personage which is assumed with so much facility by their +brethren of the Isle of Saints. They are a shrewd people, indeed, +but so destitute of ease, grace, pliability of manners, and +insinuation of address, that they eternally seem to suffer actual +misery in the<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_301" id="vol_i_Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span>ir attempts to look gay and careless. Then their pride +heads them back at one turn, their poverty at another, their +pedantry at a third, their <i>mauvaise honte</i> at a fourth; and with +so many obstacles to make them bolt off the course, it is +positively impossible they should win the plate. No, Harry, it is +the grave folk in Old England who have to fear a Caledonian +invasion—they will make no conquests in the world of fashion. +Excellent bankers the Scots may be, for they are eternally +calculating how to add interest to principal;—good soldiers, for +they are, if not such heroes as they would be thought, as brave, I +suppose, as their neighbours, and much more amenable to +discipline;—lawyers they are born; indeed every country gentleman +is bred one, and their patient and crafty disposition enables them, +in other lines, to submit to hardships which other natives could +not bear, and avail themselves of advantages which others would let +pass under their noses unavailingly. But assuredly Heaven did not +form the Caledonian for the gay world; and his efforts at ease, +grace, and gaiety, resemble only the clumsy gambols of the ass in +the fable. Yet the Scot has his sphere too, (in his own country +only,) where the character which he assumes is allowed to pass +current. This Mowbray, now—this brother-in-law of mine—might do +pretty well at a Northern Meeting, or the Leith races, where he +could give five minutes to the sport of the day, and the next half +hour to county politics, or to farming; but it is scarce necessary +to tell you, Harry, that this half fellowship will not pass on the +better side of the Tweed.</p> + +<p>“Yet, for all I have told you, this trout was not easily tickled; +nor should I have made much of him, had he not, in the plenitude of +his northern conceit, entertained that notion of my being a good +subject of plunder, which you had contrived (blessings on your +contriving brain!) to insinuate into him by means of Wolverine. He +co<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_302" id="vol_i_Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span>mmenced this hopeful experiment, and, as you must have +anticipated, caught a Tartar with a vengeance. Of course, I used +my victory only so far as to secure his interest in accomplishing +my principal object; and yet, I could see my gentleman's pride was +so much injured in the course of the negotiation, that not all the +advantages which the match offered to his damned family, were able +entirely to subdue the chagrin arising from his defeat. He did gulp +it down, though, and we are friends and allies, for the present at +least—not so cordially so, however, as to induce me to trust him +with the whole of the strangely complicated tale. The circumstance +of the will it was necessary to communicate, as affording a +sufficiently strong reason for urging my suit; and this partial +disclosure enabled me for the present to dispense with farther +confidence.</p> + +<p>“You will observe, that I stand by no means secure; and besides the +chance of my cousin's reappearance—a certain event, unless he is +worse than I dare hope for—I have perhaps to expect the fantastic +repugnance of Clara herself, or some sulky freak on her brother's +part.—In a word—and let it be such a one as conjurers raise the +devil with—Harry Jekyl, I <i>want</i> you.</p> + +<p>“As well knowing the nature of my friend, I can assure you that his +own interest, as well as mine, may be advanced by his coming hither +on duty. Here is a blockhead, whom I already mentioned, Sir Bingo +Binks, with whom something may be done worth <i>your</i> while, though +scarce worth <i>mine</i>. The Baronet is a perfect buzzard, and when I +came here he was under Mowbray's training. But the awkward Scot had +plucked half-a-dozen penfeathers from his wing with so little +precaution, that the Baronet has become frightened and shy, and is +now in the act of rebelling against Mowbray, whom he both hates and +fears—the least backing from a knowing hand like you, and the bird +becomes your own, feathers and all.—Moreover,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_303" id="vol_i_Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span><span class="i8">——‘by my life,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">This Bingo hath a mighty pretty wife.’<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>A lovely woman, Harry—rather plump, and above the middle +size—quite your taste—A Juno in beauty, looking with such scorn +on her husband, whom she despises and hates, and seeming, as if she +<i>could</i> look so differently on any one whom she might like better, +that, on my faith, 'twere sin not to give her occasion. If you +please to venture your luck, either with the knight or the lady, +you shall have fair play, and no interference—that is, provided +you appear upon this summons; for, otherwise, I may be so placed, +that the affairs of the knight and the lady may fall under my own +immediate cognizance. And so, Harry, if you wish to profit by these +hints, you had best make haste, as well for your own concerns, as +to assist me in mine.—Yours, Harry, as you behave yourself,</p> + +<p style="text-align: right;"> +“<span class="smcap">Etherington.</span>”<br /> +</p></div> + +<p>Having finished this eloquent and instructive epistle, the yo<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_304" id="vol_i_Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span>ung Earl +demanded the attendance of his own valet Solmes, whom he charged to put +it into the post-office without delay, and with his own hand.</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_305" id="vol_i_Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span></p> +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol_i_Footnote_1_1" id="vol_i_Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#vol_i_FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> See Editor's Notes at the end of the Volume. Wherever a +similar reference occurs, the reader will understand that the same +direction applies.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol_i_Footnote_2_2" id="vol_i_Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#vol_i_FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> See the old Ballad of King Estmere, in <span class="smcap">Percy's</span> <i>Reliques</i>.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol_i_Footnote_3_3" id="vol_i_Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#vol_i_FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> In a colloquy of Erasmus, called <i>Diversaria</i>, there is a +very unsavoury description of a German inn of the period, where an +objection of the guest is answered in the manner expressed in the +text—a great sign of want of competition on the road.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol_i_Footnote_4_4" id="vol_i_Footnote_4_4"></a><a href="#vol_i_FNanchor_4_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> This circumstance shows of itself, that the Meg Dods of the +tale cannot be identified with her namesake Jenny Dods, who kept the inn +at Howgate,<a name="vol_i_FNanchor_B_25" id="vol_i_FNanchor_B_25"></a><a href="#vol_i_Footnote_B_25" class="fnanchor">[B]</a> on the Peebles road; for Jenny, far different from our +heroine, was unmatched as a slattern.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol_i_Footnote_5_5" id="vol_i_Footnote_5_5"></a><a href="#vol_i_FNanchor_5_5"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> This was universally the case in Scotland forty or fifty +years ago; and so little was charged for a domestic's living when the +author became first acquainted with the road, that a shilling or +eighteenpence was sufficient board wages for a man-servant, when a crown +would not now answer the purpose. It is true the cause of these +reasonable charges rested upon a principle equally unjust to the +landlord, and inconvenient to the guest. The landlord did not expect to +make any thing upon the charge for eating which his bill contained; in +consideration of which, the guest was expected to drink more wine than +might be convenient or agreeable to him, “<i>for the good</i>,” as it was +called, “<i>of the house</i>.” The landlord indeed was willing and ready to +assist, in this duty, every stranger who came within his gates. Other +things were in proportion. A charge for lodging, fire, and candle, was +long a thing unheard of in Scotland. A shilling to the housemaid settled +all such considerations. I see, from memorandums of 1790, that a young +man, with two ponies and a serving-lad, might travel from the house of +one Meg Dods to another, through most parts of Scotland, for about five +or six shillings a-day.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol_i_Footnote_6_6" id="vol_i_Footnote_6_6"></a><a href="#vol_i_FNanchor_6_6"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> <a href="#vol_i_Note_I">Note I.</a>—Building-Feus in Scotland.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol_i_Footnote_7_7" id="vol_i_Footnote_7_7"></a><a href="#vol_i_FNanchor_7_7"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> This Gallic word (hôtel) was first introduced in Scotland +during the author's childhood, and was so pronounced by the lower +class.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol_i_Footnote_8_8" id="vol_i_Footnote_8_8"></a><a href="#vol_i_FNanchor_8_8"><span class="label">[8]</span></a> The foundress of a sect called Buchanites; a species of +Joanna Southcote, who long after death was expected to return and head +her disciples on the road to Jerusalem.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol_i_Footnote_9_9" id="vol_i_Footnote_9_9"></a><a href="#vol_i_FNanchor_9_9"><span class="label">[9]</span></a> <i>Escrouelles</i>, King's Evil.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol_i_Footnote_10_10" id="vol_i_Footnote_10_10"></a><a href="#vol_i_FNanchor_10_10"><span class="label">[10]</span></a> The usual expression for a slight encroachment on a +neighbour's property.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol_i_Footnote_11_11" id="vol_i_Footnote_11_11"></a><a href="#vol_i_FNanchor_11_11"><span class="label">[11]</span></a> The said piper was famous at the mystery.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol_i_Footnote_12_12" id="vol_i_Footnote_12_12"></a><a href="#vol_i_FNanchor_12_12"><span class="label">[12]</span></a> Skates are called sketchers in Scotland.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol_i_Footnote_13_13" id="vol_i_Footnote_13_13"></a><a href="#vol_i_FNanchor_13_13"><span class="label">[13]</span></a> The one or the other was equally <i>in votis</i> to Ascanius,— +</p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“Optat aprum, aut fulvum descendere monte leonem.”<br /></span> +</div></div> +<p> +Modern Trojans make a great distinction betwixt these two objects of +chase.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol_i_Footnote_14_14" id="vol_i_Footnote_14_14"></a><a href="#vol_i_FNanchor_14_14"><span class="label">[14]</span></a> <a href="#vol_i_Note_II">Note II.</a>—The Dark Ladye.</p></div> + + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol_i_Footnote_15_15" id="vol_i_Footnote_15_15"></a><a href="#vol_i_FNanchor_15_15"><span class="label">[15]</span></a> The late Dr. Gregory is probably intimated, as one of the +celebrated Dr. Cullen's personal habits is previously mentioned. Dr. +Gregory was distinguished for putting his patients on a severe regimen.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol_i_Footnote_16_16" id="vol_i_Footnote_16_16"></a><a href="#vol_i_FNanchor_16_16"><span class="label">[16]</span></a> A fur pouch for keeping tobacco.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol_i_Footnote_17_17" id="vol_i_Footnote_17_17"></a><a href="#vol_i_FNanchor_17_17"><span class="label">[17]</span></a> Bogle—in English, Goblin.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol_i_Footnote_18_18" id="vol_i_Footnote_18_18"></a><a href="#vol_i_FNanchor_18_18"><span class="label">[18]</span></a> A kettle of fish is a <i>fête-champêtre</i> of a particular +kind, which is to other <i>fêtes-champêtres</i> what the piscatory eclogues +of Brown or Sannazario are to pastoral poetry. A large caldron is boiled +by the side of a salmon river, containing a quantity of water, thickened +with salt to the consistence of brine. In this the fish is plunged when +taken, and eaten by the company <i>fronde super viridi</i>. This is accounted +the best way of eating salmon, by those who desire to taste the fish in +a state of extreme freshness. Others prefer it after being kept a day or +two, when the curd melts into oil, and the fish becomes richer and more +luscious. The more judicious gastronomes eat no other sauce than a +spoonful of the water in which the salmon is boiled, together with a +little pepper and vinegar.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol_i_Footnote_19_19" id="vol_i_Footnote_19_19"></a><a href="#vol_i_FNanchor_19_19"><span class="label">[19]</span></a> For example, a man cannot be tried for murder merely in +the case of the non-appearance of an individual; there must be proof +that the party has been murdered.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol_i_Footnote_20_20" id="vol_i_Footnote_20_20"></a><a href="#vol_i_FNanchor_20_20"><span class="label">[20]</span></a> This was a peculiarity in the countenance of the +celebrated Cossack leader, Platoff.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol_i_Footnote_21_21" id="vol_i_Footnote_21_21"></a><a href="#vol_i_FNanchor_21_21"><span class="label">[21]</span></a> An epithet which expresses, in Scotland, what the +barometer calls rainy.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol_i_Footnote_22_22" id="vol_i_Footnote_22_22"></a><a href="#vol_i_FNanchor_22_22"><span class="label">[22]</span></a> <a href="#vol_i_Note_III">Note III.</a>—Mago-Pico.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol_i_Footnote_23_23" id="vol_i_Footnote_23_23"></a><a href="#vol_i_FNanchor_23_23"><span class="label">[23]</span></a> <i>Scotticé</i>, for “admitted the rain.”</p></div> + +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol_i_AUTHORS_NOTES" id="vol_i_AUTHORS_NOTES"></a>AUTHOR'S NOTES.</h2> + + +<h3><a name="vol_i_Note_I" id="vol_i_Note_I"></a>Note I., p. 14.—<span class="smcap">Building-Feus in Scotland</span>.</h3> + +<p>In Scotland a village is erected upon a species of landright, very +different from the copyhold so frequent in England. Every alienation or +sale of landed property must be made in the shape of a feudal +conveyance, and the party who acquires it holds thereby an absolute and +perfect right of property in the fief, while he discharges the +stipulations of the vassal, and, above all, pays the feu-duties. The +vassal or tenant of the site of the smallest cottage holds his +possession as absolutely as the proprietor, of whose large estate it is +perhaps scarce a perceptible portion. By dint of excellent laws, the +sasines, or deeds of delivery of such fiefs, are placed on record in +such order, that every burden affecting the property can be seen for +payment of a very moderate fee; so that a person proposing to lend money +upon it, knows exactly the nature and extent of his security.</p> + +<p>From the nature of these landrights being so explicit and secure, the +Scottish people have been led to entertain a jealousy of +building-leases, of however long duration. Not long ago, a great landed +proprietor took the latter mode of disposing of some ground near a +thriving town in the west country. The number of years in the lease was +settled at nine hundred and ninety-nine. All was agreed to, and the +deeds were ordered to be drawn. But the tenant, as he walked down the +avenue, began to reflect that the lease, though so very long as to be +almost perpetual, nevertheless had a termination; and that after the +lapse of a thousand years, lacking one, the connexion of his family and +representatives with the estate would cease. He took a qualm at the +thought of the loss to be sustained by his posterity a thousand years +hence; and going back to the ho<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_306" id="vol_i_Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span>use of the gentleman who feued the +ground, he demanded, and readily obtained, the additional term of fifty +years to be added to the lease.</p> + + +<h3><a name="vol_i_Note_II" id="vol_i_Note_II"></a>Note II., p. 90.—<span class="smcap">Dark Ladye</span>.</h3> + +<p>The Dark Ladye is one of those tantalizing fragments, in which Mr. +Coleridge has shown us what exquisite powers of poetry he has suffered +to remain uncultivated. Let us be thankful for what we have received, +however. The unfashioned ore, drawn from so rich a mine, is worth all to +which art can add its highest decorations, when drawn from less abundant +sources. The verses beginning the poem which are published separately, +are said to have soothed the last hours of Mr. Fox. They are the stanzas +entitled <span class="smcap">Love</span>.</p> + + +<h3><a name="vol_i_Note_III" id="vol_i_Note_III"></a>Note III., p. 252.—<span class="smcap">Mago-Pico</span>.</h3> + +<p>This satire, very popular even in Scotland, at least with one party, was +composed at the expense of a reverend presbyterian divine, of whom many +stories are preserved, being Mr. Pyet, the Mago-Pico of the Tale, +minister of Dunbar. The work is now little known in Scotland, and not at +all in England, though written with much strong and coarse humour, +resembling the style of Arbuthnot. It was composed by Mr. Haliburton, a +military chaplain. The distresses attending Mago-Pico's bachelor life, +are thus stated:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>“At the same time I desire you will only figure out to yourself his +situation during his celibacy in the ministerial charge—a house +lying all heaps upon heaps; his bed ill-made, swarming with fleas, +and very cold on the winter nights; his sheep's-head not to be +eaten for wool and hair, his broth singed, his bread mouldy, his +lamb and pig all scouthered, his house neither washed nor +plastered; his black stockings darned with white worsted above the +shoes; his butter made into cat's harns; his cheese one heap of +mites and maggots, and full of large avenues for rats and mice to +play at hide-and-seek and make their nests in. Frequent were the +admonitions he had given his maid-servants on this score, and every +now and then he was turning them off; but still the last was the +worst, and in the meanwhile the poor man was the sufferer. At any +rate, therefore, matrimony must turn to his account, though his +wife should prove to be nothing but a creature of the feminine +gender, with a tongue in her head, and ten fingers on her hands, to +clear out the papers of the housemaid, not to mention the +convenience of a man's having it in his power lawfully to beget +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_307" id="vol_i_Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span>sons and daughters in his own house.”—<i>Memoirs of Mago-Pico. +Second edition. Edinburgh</i>, 1761, p. 19.</p></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_308" id="vol_i_Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span></p><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_309" id="vol_i_Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="vol_i_EDITORS_NOTES" id="vol_i_EDITORS_NOTES"></a>EDITOR'S NOTES.</h2> + + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol_i_Footnote_A_24" id="vol_i_Footnote_A_24"></a><a href="#vol_i_FNanchor_A_24"><span class="label">[A]</span></a> p. 1. “David M'Pherson's map.” In his “Geographical +History,” London, 4to, 1796.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol_i_Footnote_B_25" id="vol_i_Footnote_B_25"></a><a href="#vol_i_FNanchor_B_25"><span class="label">[B]</span></a> p. 11. “Jenny Dods ... at Howgate.” Scott admitted to +Erskine that the name of “Dods” was borrowed from this slatternly +heroine.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol_i_Footnote_C_26" id="vol_i_Footnote_C_26"></a><a href="#vol_i_FNanchor_C_26"><span class="label">[C]</span></a> p. 33. “He was nae Roman, but only a Cuddie, or Culdee.” +Some Scottish Protestants took pride in believing that their Kirk +descended from Culdees, who were not of the Roman Communion. The Culdees +have given rise to a world of dispute, and he would be a bold man who +pretended to understand their exact position. The name seems to be <i>Cele +De</i>, “servant [gillie] of God.” They were not Columban monks, but fill a +gap between the expulsion of the Columbans by the Picts, and the +Anglicising and Romanising of the Scottish Church by St. Margaret and +her sons. Originally solitary ascetics, they clustered into groups, and, +if we are to believe their supplanters at St. Andrews, the Canons +Regular, they were married men, and used church property for family +profit. Their mass they celebrated with a rite of their own, in their +little church. They were gradually merged in, and overpowered at St. +Andrews, for example, by the Canons Regular, and are last heard of in +prosecuting a claim to elect the Bishop, at the time of Edward the +First's interference with Scottish affairs. The points on which they +differed from Roman practice would probably have seemed very +insignificant to such a theologian as Meg Dods.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol_i_Footnote_D_27" id="vol_i_Footnote_D_27"></a><a href="#vol_i_FNanchor_D_27"><span class="label">[D]</span></a> p. 47. “Fortunio, in the fairy-tale.” The gifted companions +of Fortunio, Keen-eye, Keen-ear, and so forth, are very old stock +characters in Märchen: their first known appearance is in the saga of +Jason and the Fleece of Gold.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol_i_Footnote_E_28" id="vol_i_Footnote_E_28"></a><a href="#vol_i_FNanchor_E_28"><span class="label">[E]</span></a> p. 169. “The sportsman's sense of his own cruelty.” In the +reminiscences of Captain Basil Hall, published by Lockhart, he mentions +that Scott himself had a dislike of shooting, from a sentiment as to the +cruelty of the sport. “I was never quite at ease when I had knocked down +my blackcock, and going to pick him up he cast back his dying eye with a +look of reproach. I don't affect to be more squeamish than my +neighbours, but I am not ashamed to say that no practice ever reconciled +me fully to the cruelty of the affair. At all events, now that I can do +as I like without fear of ridicule, I take more pleasure in seeing the +birds fly past me unharmed.” (Lockhart, vii. 331.)</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol_i_Footnote_F_29" id="vol_i_Footnote_F_29"></a><a href="#vol_i_FNanchor_F_29"><span class="label">[F]</span></a> p. 240. “Tintock.” A hill on the Upper Tweed, celebrated in +local rhyme as— +</p> +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">On Tintock tap there is a mist,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in the mist there is a kist,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in the kist there is a cap,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And in the cap there is a drap.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tak' up the cap, drink out the drap,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And set it down on Tintock tap.<br /></span> +</div></div> +</div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol_i_Footnote_G_30" id="vol_i_Footnote_G_30"></a><a href="#vol_i_FNanchor_G_30"><span class="label">[G]</span></a> p. 245. “Donald Cargill.” See Editor's Notes to +“Redgauntlet.” Howie of Lochgoin says Cargill was executed in Edinburgh, +not at Queensferry, as stated here.</p></div> + +<p style="text-align: right;"> +<span class="smcap">Andrew Lang</span><br /> +</p> + +<p><i>December 1893.</i></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol_i_GLOSSARY" id="vol_i_GLOSSARY"></a>GLOSSARY.</h2> + + +<p>A', all</p> + +<p>“A. B. Memorial,” a legal statement which does not give the names of the +parties concerned.</p> + +<p>Abee, alone.</p> + +<p>Ae, one.</p> + +<p>Aff, off.</p> + +<p>Afterhend, afterwards.</p> + +<p>Ain, own.</p> + +<p>Airn, iron.</p> + +<p>Ajee, awry.</p> + +<p>Amaist, almost.</p> + +<p>Andrew Ferrara, a sword.</p> + +<p>Ane, one.</p> + +<p>Assoilzie, to acquit.</p> + +<p>Asteer, astir.</p> + +<p>Atween, between.</p> + +<p>Aught, possession; to own, to possess.</p> + +<p>Auld, old. “Auld lang syne,” the days of long ago.</p> + +<p>Aw, all.</p> + +<p>Awa, away.</p> + +<p>Awing, owing, or bill.</p> + +<p>Awmry, a cupboard.</p> + + +<p>Bairn, a child.</p> + +<p>Baith, both.</p> + +<p>Ballant, a ballad.</p> + +<p>Bane, a bone.</p> + +<p>Bangster, a victor</p> + +<p>Bawbee, a halfpenny.</p> + +<p>Bee—“to hae a bee in one's bonnet,” to be harebrained.</p> + +<p>Beltane, a festival on the first of May, hence Whitsuntide.</p> + +<p>“Bent, to take the,” to provide for one's safety, to flee country.</p> + +<p>Bide, to stay, to remain; to bear, to endure.</p> + +<p>Bigg, to build.</p> + +<p>Bind, one's ability or power.</p> + +<p>Bink, a plate-rack.</p> + +<p>Birl, to turn, to toss.</p> + +<p>“Blaw in my lug,” a flatterer.</p> + +<p>Blude, bluid, blood.</p> + +<p>Bodle, a small copper coin.</p> + +<p>Bogle, a scarecrow.</p> + +<p>Bombazine, the silk and worsted stuff of which a lawyer's gown was made.</p> + +<p>Bonnet-laird, a small proprietor or freeholder who farms his own land.</p> + +<p>“Bow Street runners,” London detectives.</p> + +<p>Braw, brave, fine.</p> + +<p>Bruick, possessed.</p> + +<p>“By ordinar,” out of the common run.</p> + + +<p>Ca', to call. Ca'd, called.</p> + +<p>Callant, a lad.</p> + +<p>Caller, fresh.</p> + +<p>Canna, cannot.</p> + +<p>Cantle, the crown of the head.</p> + +<p>Canty, lively, cheerful.</p> + +<p>Capillaire, a syrup made from maidenhair fern.</p> + +<p>Cappie, a kind of beer.</p> + +<p>Carle, a fellow.</p> + +<p>Carline, a witch.</p> + +<p>Carvy, carraway.</p> + +<p>Cauld, cold.</p> + +<p>Cheek-haffit, side of the cheek.</p> + +<p>Chucky, a pebble.</p> + +<p>Claithes, cloth<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_310" id="vol_i_Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span>es.</p> + +<p>Claver, gossip.</p> + +<p>Claw, to beat.</p> + +<p>Cleck, clack or hatch.</p> + +<p>Cleeket, cleiket, caught, ensnared, taken.</p> + +<p>Clink, to chime, to rhyme.</p> + +<p>Clouted, patched, and so strengthened.</p> + +<p>Cock-a-leeky, cockie-leekie, soup made of a cock boiled with leeks.</p> + +<p>Cock-bree, cock-broth.</p> + +<p>Cockernonnie, a top-knot.</p> + +<p>Cogue, a wooden measure.</p> + +<p>Condiddling, appropriating.</p> + +<p>Courie, cowry, a shell used as money in parts of Southern Asia and +Africa.</p> + +<p>Coventry. To send one to Coventry is to refuse to have anything to do +with him socially, not even to speak to him.</p> + +<p>Cowt, a colt.</p> + +<p>Craig, a rock.</p> + +<p>Crap, a wig of rough short hair.</p> + +<p>Craw, a crow.</p> + +<p>Cuitle, to wheedle.</p> + +<p>Cumbers, drawbacks, vexations.</p> + +<p>Cutty, a jade.</p> + + +<p>Daffing, frolicking.</p> + +<p>Daft, crazy.</p> + +<p>Daur, to dare.</p> + +<p>“Day, the,” to-day.</p> + +<p>Decerniture, a decree of the court.</p> + +<p>Deil, the devil. “Deil's buckie,” devil's imp.</p> + +<p>Deleerit, distracted.</p> + +<p>Diet-loaf, a kind of spongecake.</p> + +<p>Dinna, don't.</p> + +<p>Doited, dotard.</p> + +<p>Donnart, stupid.</p> + +<p>Dookit, ducked.</p> + +<p>Douce, quiet, sensible.</p> + +<p>Dought, was able.</p> + +<p>Doun, down.</p> + +<p>Dowcot, a dovecot.</p> + +<p>Drap, a drop.</p> + +<p>Drappie, a drop of spirits.</p> + +<p>Dree'd, endured.</p> + +<p>Drogs, drugs.</p> + +<p>Dung, knocked, beaten.</p> + + +<p>Ee, the eye</p> + +<p>Een, eyes.</p> + +<p>Eneugh, enough.</p> + + +<p>Fa'an, fallen.</p> + +<p>Fash, trouble.</p> + +<p>Fashious, troublesome.</p> + +<p>Faut, fault.</p> + +<p>Feck, part, the greater part.</p> + +<p>Feckless, spiritless.</p> + +<p>Fend, defence.</p> + +<p>Fern-seed. Certain kinds were supposed to render invisible those who +carried it on their person.</p> + +<p>Feuar, one who holds lands in feu—<i>i.e.</i>, on lease.</p> + +<p>File, foul.</p> + +<p>Flee, a fly.</p> + +<p>Fleeching, flattering.</p> + +<p>Flesher, a butcher.</p> + +<p>Flichtering, fluttering, fussing.</p> + +<p>Flight—“hail flight,” the whole lot.</p> + +<p>Flyting, scolding.</p> + +<p>Follies, ornaments, laces, &c.</p> + +<p>Forbears, ancestors.</p> + +<p>Forby, besides.</p> + +<p>Fou, full.</p> + +<p>Fouest, fullest.</p> + +<p>Frae, from.</p> + +<p>Fu', full.</p> + +<p>Fule, a fool.</p> + + +<p>Gaed, went.</p> + +<p>Gaen, gone.</p> + +<p>Galliard, sprightly.</p> + +<p>Gane, gone.</p> + +<p>Gang, go.</p> + +<p>Ganging, going.</p> + +<p>Gar, to force, to make.</p> + +<p>Gate, way, direction.</p> + +<p>Gaun, going.</p> + +<p>Geisen'd, leaking.</p> + +<p>Gie, give.</p> + +<p>Gill-flirt, a giddy flirt.</p> + +<p>Girning, crabbed, ill-tempered.</p> + +<p>Gled, a kite.</p> + +<p>Gnostic, knowing, sharp.</p> + +<p>Gomeril, an ass, a fool.</p> + +<p>Goupin, a d<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_311" id="vol_i_Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span>ouble handful.</p> + +<p>Gowd, gold.</p> + +<p>Gowk, a fool.</p> + +<p>Gree, to agree.</p> + +<p>Grosert, a gooseberry.</p> + +<p>Gude, good.</p> + +<p>Gudes, possessions, property.</p> + +<p>Gully, a large knife.</p> + + +<p>Ha', a hall.</p> + +<p>Hae, have.</p> + +<p>Hail, haill, whole.</p> + +<p>Harns, brains.</p> + +<p>Haud, hold. “Neither to haud nor to bind,” a proverbial phrase +expressive of violent excitement.</p> + +<p>Haugh, low-lying flat ground, properly on the border of a river, and +such as is sometimes overflowed.</p> + +<p>Haverils, foolish chatterers.</p> + +<p>Heather-tap, a tuft or bunch of heather.</p> + +<p>Hellicate, giddy, wild.</p> + +<p>Hempie, roguish, romping.</p> + +<p>Het, hot.</p> + +<p>Holm, the level low ground on the banks of a river.</p> + +<p>Hooly, softly, slowly.</p> + +<p>Hotch, to jerk oneself along in a sitting posture.</p> + +<p>Hottle, an hotel.</p> + +<p>“Hout fie! hout awa!” expressions of dissatisfaction.</p> + +<p>Howff, a favourite resort.</p> + +<p>Howk, to dig.</p> + +<p>Hurley-hacket, a badly hung carriage.</p> + +<p>Huzzie, a jade.</p> + + +<p>Ilk, ilka, each, every.</p> + +<p>I'se, I shall.</p> + + +<p>Jaugs, saddle bags.</p> + +<p>Jer-falcon, a species of hawk.</p> + +<p>Jirbling, emptying liquids from vessel to vessel.</p> + + +<p>Kale, broth.</p> + +<p>Ken, to know.</p> + +<p>Ken'd, knew.</p> + +<p>Kitchen-fee, dripping.</p> + +<p>Kittle, to tickle, to manage.</p> + +<p>Kittled, were born.</p> + +<p>Knap, to break in two; also, to speak after the manner of the English.</p> + +<p>Kouscousou, a Moorish dish of various compounds.</p> + + +<p>Laird, a squire, lord of the manor.</p> + +<p>Lamer, amber.</p> + +<p>Landlouper, a charlatan, an adventurer.</p> + +<p>Lang, long.</p> + +<p>Lave, the remainder.</p> + +<p>Lawing, a tavern reckoning.</p> + +<p>Lea-rig, unploughed land or hill-side.</p> + +<p>Lee, a lie.</p> + +<p>Leeving, living.</p> + +<p>“Let abee,” let alone.</p> + +<p>Lick, to beat, to overcome.</p> + +<p>Linking, walking arm in arm.</p> + +<p>Linkit, linked.</p> + +<p>“Link out,” to pay down smartly.</p> + +<p>Lippen, to trust.</p> + +<p>Loon, a fellow, a person.</p> + +<p>Loot, allowed.</p> + +<p>Loup, leap.</p> + +<p>Lug, the ear.</p> + + +<p>Mailing, a farm.</p> + +<p>Mair, more.</p> + +<p>Maist, most.</p> + +<p>Mansworn, perjured.</p> + +<p>Mask, to brew.</p> + +<p>Maun, must. Maunna, must not.</p> + +<p>Mawkin, a hare.</p> + +<p>Mazareen, mazarin, a deep blue colour.</p> + +<p>Meith, a mark.</p> + +<p>Mell, to maul, to meddle with.</p> + +<p>“Minced collops,” meat cut up very fine.</p> + +<p>Mind, to remember.</p> + +<p>Muckle, much.</p> + +<p>Muir, a moor.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_312" id="vol_i_Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span></p> + +<p>Multiplepoinding, a method of settling rival claims to the same fund.</p> + +<p>Multure, the miller's fee for grinding grain.</p> + +<p>Murgeons, mouths, distorted gestures.</p> + +<p>Mutch, a woman's cap.</p> + +<p>Mutchkin, a measure equal to an English pint.</p> + + +<p>Na, nae, no, not.</p> + +<p>Naig, a nag.</p> + +<p>Neist, next.</p> + + +<p>Odd-come-shortlies, chance times not far off.</p> + +<p>Ony, any.</p> + +<p>Or, before. “Or they wan hame,” before they get home.</p> + +<p>Ower, over.</p> + +<p>Owerta'en, overtaken.</p> + + +<p>Palinode, in Scotch libel cases a formal recantation exacted in addition +to damages.</p> + +<p>Parritch, porridge.</p> + +<p>Pat, put.</p> + +<p>Pawky, shrewd.</p> + +<p>Pice, an Indian coin.</p> + +<p>Plack, a small copper coin = ⅓<i>d.</i></p> + +<p>Pock, a poke, a bag.</p> + +<p>Poney, £25.</p> + +<p>Pootry, poultry.</p> + +<p>Pow, the head.</p> + +<p>Pownie, a pony.</p> + +<p>Prieve, proof, legal probation.</p> + +<p>Puir, poor.</p> + +<p>Pyot, a magpie.</p> + + +<p>Quaigh, a whisky measure.</p> + + +<p>Raff, a worthless fellow, a nobody.</p> + +<p>Rattan, a cane or walking-stick.</p> + +<p>Rax, to stretch.</p> + +<p>Redd, to tidy. “An ill-red-up house,” an untidy house.</p> + +<p>Reekie, smoky.</p> + +<p>Reise-sac, a travelling-bag.</p> + +<p>Rin, run.</p> + +<p>Rouleau, a roll of coined money.</p> + +<p>Row, roll.</p> + + +<p>Sae, so.</p> + +<p>Sair, sore.</p> + +<p>“Salam alicum!” The usual Mohammedan greeting, meaning, Peace be with +you!</p> + +<p>Sall, shall.</p> + +<p>Sasine, a mode of investiture in lands, according to ancient Scottish +law.</p> + +<p>Saumon, salmon.</p> + +<p>Sax, six.</p> + +<p>Scart, scratch.</p> + +<p>Scate-rumple, skate-tail.</p> + +<p>“Scauff and raff,” tag-rag and bobtail.</p> + +<p>Sclate, slate.</p> + +<p>Scouthered, slightly toasted or singed.</p> + +<p>Seeven, seven.</p> + +<p>Shave, a slice.</p> + +<p>Shool, a shovel.</p> + +<p>Shouther, the shoulder.</p> + +<p>Sib, related by blood.</p> + +<p>Sic, such.</p> + +<p>Siller, money.</p> + +<p>Skeely, skilful.</p> + +<p>Skylarked, tricked.</p> + +<p>Slaister, a mess.</p> + +<p>Sloan, a rebuff.</p> + +<p>Smoor, to smother.</p> + +<p>Snap, a small biscuit.</p> + +<p>Sneck-drawing, crafty.</p> + +<p>Snooded, bound up with a snood or fillet for the hair.</p> + +<p>Sorn, to spunge, to live upon.</p> + +<p>Sort, to arrange, to manage.</p> + +<p>Sough, a sigh. “To keep a calm sough,” to keep a quiet tongue.</p> + +<p>Speer, to inquire.</p> + +<p>Steer, stir.</p> + +<p>Steered, disturbed.</p> + +<p>Streekit, stretched (applied to a corpse).</p> + +<p>Suld, should.</p> + +<p>Syllabub, a curd made of wins or cider with milk or cream.</p> + +<p>Synd, to rinse.</p> + +<p>Syne, since, ago.</p> + + +<p>Tailzie, a bon<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_i_Page_313" id="vol_i_Page_313">[Pg 313]</a></span>d of entail.</p> + +<p>Tane, the one.</p> + +<p>Tappet-hen, a large measure of claret holding three magnums or Scots +pints.</p> + +<p>Tauld, told.</p> + +<p>Taupie, tawpie, an awkward girl, a tomboy.</p> + +<p>Thae, these, those.</p> + +<p>Thrawn, thwarted or twisted.</p> + +<p>Threepit, averred, persisted.</p> + +<p>Till't, to it.</p> + +<p>Tither, the other.</p> + +<p>Toom, empty.</p> + +<p>Topping, excellent.</p> + +<p>Trankums, flimsy ornaments, laces, &c.</p> + +<p>Trewed, believed.</p> + +<p>Twa, two.</p> + +<p>Twal, twelve.</p> + + +<p>Unco, very, particular, uncommon.</p> + + +<p>Vilipend, to slight, to undervalue.</p> + + +<p>Wad, would.</p> + +<p>Wadna, would not.</p> + +<p>Wae, woful, sad.</p> + +<p>Walth, wealth.</p> + +<p>Wame-fou, bellyful.</p> + +<p>“Wan to,” reached.</p> + +<p>Warld, world.</p> + +<p>Waur, worse.</p> + +<p>Weel, well.</p> + +<p>Weird, destiny.</p> + +<p>Wha, who.</p> + +<p>“What for no?” why not?</p> + +<p>Wheen, a few.</p> + +<p>Whiles, sometimes.</p> + +<p>Whilk, which.</p> + +<p>Whully-whaing, flattery.</p> + +<p>Wi', with.</p> + +<p>Winna, will not.</p> + +<p>Wud, mad. “Ance wud and aye waur,” increasing in insanity—applied to +one who, being in a passion, still waxes more furious.</p> + +<p>Wull, will.</p> + +<p>Wuss, wish.</p> + + +<p>Yanking, smart, active.</p> + +<p>Yont, beyond.</p> + +<hr style="width: 95%;" /> + + +<h1>ST. RONAN'S WELL.</h1> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A merry place, 'tis said, in days of yore;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But something ails it now,—the place is cursed.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="citation"> +<span class="smcap">Wordsworth</span>.<br /> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_1" id="vol_ii_Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>ST. RONAN'S WELL.</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol_ii_CHAPTER_I" id="vol_ii_CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I.</h2> + +<h3>THEATRICALS.</h3> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">——The play's the thing.</span> +</p> +<p class="citation"> +<i>Hamlet.</i><br /> +</p> + + +<p>The important day had now arrived, the arrangement +for which had for some time occupied all the +conversation and thoughts of the good company at +the Well of St. Ronan's. To give it, at the same +time, a degree of novelty and consequence, Lady +Penelope Penfeather had long since suggested to +Mr. Mowbray, that the more gifted and accomplished +part of the guests might contribute to furnish out +entertainment for the rest, by acting a few scenes +of some popular drama; an accomplishment in +which her self-conceit assured her that she was +peculiarly qualified to excel. Mr. Mowbray, who +seemed on this occasion to have thrown the reins +entirely into her ladyship's hands, made no objection +to the plan which she proposed, excepting that +the old-fashioned hedges and walks of the garden +at Shaws-Castle must necessarily serve for stage +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_2" id="vol_ii_Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span>and scenery, as there was no time to fit up the old +hall for the exhibition of the proposed theatricals.<a name="vol_ii_FNanchor_1_1" id="vol_ii_FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#vol_ii_Footnote_1_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> +But upon enquiry among the company, this plan +was wrecked upon the ordinary shelve, to wit, the +difficulty of finding performers who would consent +to assume the lower characters of the drama. For +the first parts there were candidates more than +enough; but most of these were greatly too high-spirited +to play the fool, except they were permitted +to top the part. Then amongst the few unambitious +underlings, who could be coaxed or cajoled +to undertake subordinate characters, there were so +many bad memories, and short memories, and +treacherous memories, that at length the plan was +resigned in despair.</p> + +<p>A substitute, proposed by Lady Penelope, was +next considered. It was proposed to act what the +Italians call a Comedy of Character; that is, not +an exact drama, in which the actors deliver what +is set down for them by the author; but one, in +which the plot having been previously fixed upon, +and a few striking scenes adjusted, the actors are +expected to supply the dialogue extempore, or, as +Petruchio says, from their mother wit. This is an +amusement which affords much entertainment in +Italy, particularly in the state of Venice, where the +characters of their drama have been long since all +previously fixed, and are handed down by tradition; +and this species of drama, though rather belonging +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_3" id="vol_ii_Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span>to the mask than the theatre, is distinguished by +the name of Commedia dell' Arte.<a name="vol_ii_FNanchor_2_2" id="vol_ii_FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#vol_ii_Footnote_2_2" class="fnanchor">[2]</a> But the shamefaced +character of Britons is still more alien from +a species of display, where there is a constant and +extemporaneous demand for wit, or the sort of ready +small-talk which supplies its place, than from the +regular exhibitions of the drama, where the author, +standing responsible for language and sentiment, +leaves to the personators of the scenes only the +trouble of finding enunciation and action.</p> + +<p>But the ardent and active spirit of Lady Penelope, +still athirst after novelty, though baffled in her two +first projects, brought forward a third, in which +she was more successful. This was the proposal to +combine a certain number, at least, of the guests, +properly dressed for the occasion, as representing +some well-known historical or dramatic characters, +in a group, having reference to history, or to a scene +of the drama. In this representation, which may +be called playing a picture, action, even pantomimical +action, was not expected; and all that was +required of the performers, was to throw themselves +into such a group as might express a marked and +striking point of an easily remembered scene, but +where the actors are at a pause, and without either +speech or motion. In this species of representation +there was no tax, either on the invention or memory +of those who might undertake parts; and, what +recommended it still farther to the good company, +there was no marked difference betwixt the hero +and heroine of the group, and the less distinguished +characters by whom they were attended on the<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_4" id="vol_ii_Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> +stage; and every one who had confidence in a handsome +shape and a becoming dress, might hope, +though standing in not quite so broad and favourable +a light as the principal personages, to draw, +nevertheless, a considerable portion of attention +and applause. This motion, therefore, that the +company, or such of them as might choose to +appear properly dressed for the occasion, should +form themselves into one or more groups, which +might be renewed and varied as often as they +pleased, was hailed and accepted as a bright idea, +which assigned to every one a share of the importance +attached to its probable success.</p> + +<p>Mowbray, on his side, promised to contrive some +arrangement which should separate the actors in +this mute drama from the spectators, and enable the +former to vary the amusement, by withdrawing +themselves from the scene, and again appearing +upon it under a different and new combination. +This plan of exhibition, where fine clothes and +affected attitudes supplied all draughts upon fancy +or talent, was highly agreeable to most of the ladies +present; and even Lady Binks, whose discontent +seemed proof against every effort that could be proposed +to soothe it, acquiesced in the project, with +perfect indifference indeed, but with something less +of sullenness than usual.</p> + +<p>It now only remained to rummage the circulating +library, for some piece of sufficient celebrity to +command attention, and which should be at the +same time suited to the execution of their project. +Bell's British Theatre, Miller's Modern and Ancient +Drama, and about twenty odd volumes, in which +stray tragedies and comedies were associated, like +the passengers in a mail-coach, without the least<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_5" id="vol_ii_Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> +attempt at selection or arrangement, were all +examined in the course of their researches. But +Lady Penelope declared loftily and decidedly for +Shakspeare, as the author whose immortal works +were fresh in every one's recollection. Shakspeare +was therefore chosen, and from his works the +Midsummer Night's Dream was selected, as the +play which afforded the greatest variety of characters, +and most scope of course for the intended +representation. An active competition presently +occurred among the greater part of the company, +for such copies of the Midsummer Night's Dream, +or the volume of Shakspeare containing it, as could +be got in the neighbourhood; for, notwithstanding +Lady Penelope's declaration, that every one who +could read had Shakspeare's plays by heart, it +appeared that such of his dramas as have not kept +possession of the stage, were very little known at +St. Ronan's, save among those people who are +emphatically called readers.</p> + +<p>The adjustment of the parts was the first subject +of consideration, so soon as those who intended to +assume characters had refreshed their recollection +on the subject of the piece. Theseus was unanimously +assigned to Mowbray, the giver of the +entertainment, and therefore justly entitled to +represent the Duke of Athens. The costume of an +Amazonian crest and plume, a tucked-up vest, and +a tight buskin of sky-blue silk, buckled with +diamonds, reconciled Lady Binks to the part of +Hippolyta. The superior stature of Miss Mowbray +to Lady Penelope, made it necessary that the +former should perform the part of Helena, and her +ladyship rest contented with the shrewish character +of Hermia. It was resolved to compliment the<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_6" id="vol_ii_Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> +young Earl of Etherington with the part of Lysander, +which, however, his lordship declined, and, preferring +comedy to tragedy, refused to appear in any other +character than that of the magnanimous Bottom; +and he gave them such a humorous specimen of his +quality in that part, that all were delighted at once +with his condescension in assuming, and his skill in +performing, the presenter of Pyramus.</p> + +<p>The part of Egeus was voted to Captain MacTurk, +whose obstinacy in refusing to appear in any other +than the full Highland garb, had nearly disconcerted +the whole affair. At length this obstacle was got +over, on the authority of Childe Harold, who remarks +the similarity betwixt the Highland and Grecian +costume,<a name="vol_ii_FNanchor_3_3" id="vol_ii_FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#vol_ii_Footnote_3_3" class="fnanchor">[3]</a> and the company, dispensing with the +difference of colour, voted the Captain's variegated +kilt, of the MacTurk tartan, to be the kirtle of a +Grecian mountaineer,—Egeus to be an Arnout, +and the Captain to be Egeus. Chatterly and the +painter, walking gentlemen by profession, agreed +to walk through the parts of Demetrius and +Lysander, the two Athenian lovers; and Mr. +Winterblossom, loath and lazy, after many excuses, +was bribed by Lady Penelope with an antique, +or supposed antique cameo, to play the part of +Philostratus, master of the revels, provided his +gout would permit him to remain so long upon +the turf, which was to be their stage.</p> + +<p>Muslin trowsers, adorned with spangles, a volu<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_7" id="vol_ii_Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span>minous +turban of silver gauze, and wings of the +same, together with an embroidered slipper, converted +at once Miss Digges into Oberon, the King +of Shadows, whose sovereign gravity, however, was +somewhat indifferently represented by the silly +gaiety of Miss in her Teens, and the uncontrolled +delight which she felt in her fine clothes. A younger +sister represented Titania; and two or three subordinate +elves were selected, among families attending +the salutiferous fountain, who were easily persuaded +to let their children figure in fine clothes at so +juvenile an age, though they shook their head +at Miss Digges and her pantaloons, and no less at +the liberal display of Lady Binks's right leg, with +which the Amazonian garb gratified the public of +St. Ronan's.</p> + +<p>Dr. Quackleben was applied to to play Wall, by +the assistance of such a wooden horse, or screen, as +clothes are usually dried upon; the old Attorney +stood for Lion; and the other characters of Bottom's +drama were easily found among the unnamed frequenters +of the Spring. Dressed rehearsals, and +so forth, went merrily on—all voted there was a +play fitted.</p> + +<p>But even the Doctor's eloquence could not press +Mrs. Blower into the scheme, although she was +particularly wanted to represent Thisbe.</p> + +<p>“Truth is,” she replied, “I dinna greatly like +stage-plays. John Blower, honest man, as sailors +are aye for some spree or another, wad take me +ance to see ane Mrs. Siddons—I thought we should +hae been crushed to death before we gat in—a' my +things riven aff my back, forby the four lily-white +shillings that it cost us—and then in came three +frightsome carlines wi' besoms, and they wad<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_8" id="vol_ii_Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> +bewitch a sailor's wife—I was lang eneugh there—and +out I wad be, and out John Blower gat me, +but wi' nae sma' fight and fend.—My Lady +Penelope Penfitter, and the great folk, may just +take it as they like; but in my mind, Dr. Cacklehen, +it's a mere blasphemy for folk to gar themselves +look otherwise than their Maker made them; and +then the changing the name which was given them +at baptism, is, I think, an awful falling away from +our vows; and though Thisby, which I take to be +Greek for Tibbie, may be a very good name, yet +Margaret was I christened, and Margaret will I +die.”</p> + +<p>“You mistake the matter entirely, my dear Mrs. +Blower,” said the Doctor; “there is nothing serious +intended—a mere <i>placebo</i>—just a divertisement +to cheer the spirits, and assist the effect of the +waters—cheerfulness is a great promoter of health.”</p> + +<p>“Dinna tell me o' health, Dr. Kittlepin!—Can +it be for the puir body M'Durk's health to major +about in the tartans like a tobacconist's sign in a +frosty morning, wi' his poor wizzened houghs as blue +as a blawort?—weel I wot he is a humbling spectacle. +Or can it gie ony body health or pleasure either to +see your ainsell, Doctor, ganging about wi' a claise +screen tied to your back, covered wi' paper, and +painted like a stane and lime wa'?—I'll gang to +see nane o' their vanities, Dr. Kittlehen; and if +there is nae other decent body to take care o' me, +as I dinna like to sit a haill afternoon by mysell, +I'll e'en gae doun to Mr. Sowerbrowst the maltster's—he +is a pleasant, sensible man, and a sponsible +man in the world, and his sister's a very decent +woman.”</p> + +<p>“Confound Sowerbrowst,” thought the Doctor;<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_9" id="vol_ii_Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> +“if I had guessed he was to come across me thus, +he should not have got the better of his dyspepsy +so early.—My dear Mrs. Blower,” he continued, +but aloud, “it is a foolish affair enough, I must +confess; but every person of style and fashion at +the Well has settled to attend this exhibition; there +has been nothing else talked of for this month +through the whole country, and it will be a year +before it is forgotten. And I would have you consider +how ill it will look, my dear Mrs. Blower, to +stay away—nobody will believe you had a card—no, +not though you were to hang it round your neck +like a label round a vial of tincture, Mrs. Blower.”</p> + +<p>“If ye thought <i>that</i>, Doctor Kickherben,” said +the widow, alarmed at the idea of losing caste, “I +wad e'en gang to the show, like other folk; sinful +and shameful if it be, let them that make the sin +bear the shame. But then I will put on nane of +their Popish disguises—me that has lived in North +Leith, baith wife and lass, for I shanna say how +mony years, and has a character to keep up baith +with saint and sinner.—And then, wha's to take +care of me, since you are gaun to make a lime-and-stane +wa' of yoursell, Dr. Kickinben?”</p> + +<p>“My dear Mrs. Blower, if such is your determination, +I will not make a wall of myself. Her +ladyship must consider my profession—she must +understand it is my function to look after my +patients, in preference to all the stage-plays in this +world—and to attend on a case like yours, Mrs. +Blower, it is my duty to sacrifice, were it called for, +the whole drama from Shakspeare to O'Keefe.”</p> + +<p>On hearing this magnanimous resolution, the +widow's heart was greatly cheered; for, in fact, she +might probably have considered the Doctor's per<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_10" id="vol_ii_Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span>severance +in the plan, of which she had expressed +such high disapprobation, as little less than a symptom +of absolute defection from his allegiance. By +an accommodation, therefore, which suited both +parties, it was settled that the Doctor should attend +his loving widow to Shaws-Castle, without mask +or mantle; and that the painted screen should be +transferred from Quackleben's back to the broad +shoulders of a briefless barrister, well qualified for +the part of Wall, since the composition of his skull +might have rivalled in solidity the mortar and stone +of the most approved builder.</p> + +<p>We must not pause to dilate upon the various +labours of body and spirit which preceded the intervening +space, betwixt the settlement of this gay +scheme, and the time appointed to carry it into +execution. We will not attempt to describe how +the wealthy, by letter and by commissioners, urged +their researches through the stores of the Gallery +of Fashion for specimens of Oriental finery—how +they that were scant of diamonds supplied their +place with paste and Bristol stones—how the country +dealers were driven out of patience by the +demand for goods of which they had never before +heard the name—and, lastly, how the busy fingers +of the more economical damsels twisted handkerchiefs +into turbans, and converted petticoats into +pantaloons, shaped and sewed, cut and clipped, and +spoiled many a decent gown and petticoat, to produce +something like a Grecian habit. Who can +describe the wonders wrought by active needles and +scissors, aided by thimbles and thread, upon silver +gauze, and sprigged muslin? or who can show how, +if the fair nymphs of the Spring did not entirely +succeed in attaining the desired resemblance to<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_11" id="vol_ii_Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> +heathen Greeks, they at least contrived to get rid +of all similitude to sober Christians?</p> + +<p>Neither is it necessary to dwell upon the various +schemes of conveyance which were resorted to, in +order to transfer the beau monde of the Spa to +the scene of revelry at Shaws-Castle. These were +as various as the fortunes and pretensions of the +owners; from the lordly curricle, with its outriders, +to the humble taxed cart, nay, untaxed cart, which +conveyed the personages of lesser rank. For the +latter, indeed, the two post-chaises at the Inn seemed +converted into hourly stages, so often did they +come and go between the Hotel and the Castle—a +glad day for the postilions, and a day of martyrdom +for the poor post-horses; so seldom is it that +every department of any society, however constituted, +can be injured or benefited by the same occurrence.</p> + +<p>Such, indeed, was the penury of vehicular conveyance, +that applications were made in manner +most humble, even to Meg Dods herself, entreating +she would permit her old whiskey to <i>ply</i> (for such +might have been the phrase) at St. Ronan's Well, +for that day only, and that upon good cause shown. +But not for sordid lucre would the undaunted spirit +of Meg compound her feud with her neighbours of +the detested Well. “Her carriage,” she briefly +replied, “was engaged for her ain guest and the +minister, and deil anither body's fit should gang +intill't. Let every herring hing by its ain head.” +And, accordingly, at the duly appointed hour, +creaked forth, the leathern convenience, in which, +carefully screened by the curtain from the gaze of +the fry of the village, sat Nabob Touchwood, in the +costume of an Indian merchant, or Shroff, as they +are termed. The clergyman would not, perhaps,<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_12" id="vol_ii_Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> +have been so punctual, had not a set of notes and +messages from his friend at the Cleikum, ever following +each other as thick as the papers which +decorate the tail of a schoolboy's kite, kept him so +continually on the alert from daybreak till noon, +that Mr. Touchwood found him completely dressed; +and the whiskey was only delayed for about ten +minutes before the door of the manse, a space +employed by Mr. Cargill in searching for the spectacles, +which at last were happily discovered upon +his own nose.</p> + +<p>At length, seated by the side of his new friend, +Mr. Cargill arrived safe at Shaws-Castle, the gate +of which mansion was surrounded by a screaming +group of children, so extravagantly delighted at +seeing the strange figures to whom each successive +carriage gave birth, that even the stern brow and +well-known voice of Johnie Tirlsneck, the beadle, +though stationed in the court on express purpose, +was not equal to the task of controlling them. +These noisy intruders, however, who, it was believed, +were somewhat favoured by Clara Mowbray, were +excluded from the court which opened before the +house, by a couple of grooms or helpers armed +with their whips, and could only salute, with their +shrill and wondering hailing, the various personages, +as they passed down a short avenue leading +from the exterior gate.</p> + +<p>The Cleikum nabob and the minister were greeted +with shouts not the least clamorous; which the +former merited by the ease with which he wore the +white turban, and the latter, by the infrequency of +his appearance in public, and both, by the singular +association of a decent clergyman of the church of +Scotland, in a dress more old-fashioned than could<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_13" id="vol_ii_Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> +now be produced in the General Assembly, walking +arm in arm, and seemingly in the most familiar +terms, with a Parsee merchant. They stopped a +moment at the gate of the court-yard to admire the +front of the old mansion, which had been disturbed +with so unusual a scene of gaiety.</p> + +<p>Shaws-Castle, though so named, presented no +appearance of defence; and the present edifice had +never been designed for more than the accommodation +of a peaceful family, having a low, heavy +front, loaded with some of that meretricious ornament, +which, uniting, or rather confounding, the +Gothic and Grecian architecture, was much used +during the reigns of James VI. of Scotland, and his +unfortunate son. The court formed a small square, +two sides of which were occupied by such buildings +as were required for the family, and the third by +the stables, the only part to which much attention +had been paid, the present Mr. Mowbray having +put them into excellent order. The fourth side of +the square was shut up by a screen wall, through +which a door opened to the avenue; the whole +being a kind of structure, which may be still found +on those old Scottish properties, where a rage to +render their place <i>Parkish</i>, as was at one time the +prevailing phrase, has not induced the owners to +pull down the venerable and sheltering appendages +with which their wiser fathers had screened their +mansion, and to lay the whole open to the keen +north-east; much after the fashion of a spinster of +fifty, who chills herself to gratify the public by an +exposure of her thin red elbows, and shrivelled +neck and bosom.</p> + +<p>A double door, thrown hospitably open on the +present occasion, admitted the company into a dark<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_14" id="vol_ii_Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span> +and low hall, where Mowbray himself, wearing the +under dress of Theseus, but not having yet assumed +his ducal cap and robes, stood to receive his guests +with due courtesy, and to indicate to each the road +allotted to him. Those who were to take a share in +the representation of the morning, were conducted +to an old saloon, destined for a green-room, and +which communicated with a series of apartments +on the right, hastily fitted with accommodations +for arranging and completing their toilet; while +others, who took no part in the intended drama, +were ushered to the left, into a large, unfurnished, +and long disused dining parlour, where a sashed +door opened into the gardens, crossed with yew and +holly hedges, still trimmed and clipped by the old +grey-headed gardener, upon those principles which a +Dutchman thought worthy of commemorating in a +didactic poem upon the <i>Ars Topiaria</i>.</p> + +<p>A little wilderness, surrounding a beautiful piece +of the smoothest turf, and itself bounded by such +high hedges as we have described, had been selected +as the stage most proper for the exhibition of +the intended dramatic picture. It afforded many +facilities; for a rising bank exactly in front was +accommodated with seats for the spectators, who +had a complete view of the silvan theatre, the bushes +and shrubs having been cleared away, and the place +supplied with a temporary screen, which, being +withdrawn by the domestics appointed for that +purpose, was to serve for the rising of the curtain. +A covered trellis, which passed through another +part of the garden, and terminated with a private +door opening from the right wing of the building, +seemed as if it had been planted on purpose for the +proposed exhibition, as it served to give the person<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_15" id="vol_ii_Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span>ages +of the drama a convenient and secret access +from the green-room to the place of representation. +Indeed, the dramatis personæ, at least those who +adopted the management of the matter, were +induced, by so much convenience, to extend, in +some measure, their original plan; and, instead of +one group, as had been at first proposed, they now +found themselves able to exhibit to the good company +a succession of three or four, selected and +arranged from different parts of the drama; thus +giving some duration, as well as some variety, to the +entertainment, besides the advantage of separating +and contrasting the tragic and the comic scenes.</p> + +<p>After wandering about amongst the gardens, +which contained little to interest any one, and +endeavouring to recognise some characters, who, +accommodating themselves to the humours of the +day, had ventured to appear in the various disguises +of ballad-singers, pedlars, shepherds, Highlanders, +and so forth, the company began to draw together +towards the spot where the seats prepared for +them, and the screen drawn in front of the bosky +stage, induced them to assemble, and excited expectation, +especially as a scroll in front of the esplanade +set forth, in the words of the play, “This +green plot shall be our stage, this hawthorn brake +our tiring-house, and we will do it in action.” A +delay of about ten minutes began to excite some +suppressed murmurs of impatience among the audience, +when the touch of Gow's fiddle suddenly burst +from a neighbouring hedge, behind which he had +established his little orchestra. All were of course +silent,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“As through his dear strathspeys he bore with Highland rage.”<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_16" id="vol_ii_Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>And when he changed his strain to an adagio, +and suffered his music to die away in the plaintive +notes of Roslin Castle, the echoes of the old walls +were, after a long slumber, awakened by that enthusiastic +burst of applause, with which the Scots +usually received and rewarded their country's gifted +minstrel.</p> + +<p>“He is his father's own son,” said Touchwood to +the clergyman, for both had gotten seats near about +the centre of the place of audience. “It is many +a long year since I listened to old Neil at Inver, +and, to say truth, spent a night with him over +pancakes and Athole brose; and I never expected to +hear his match again in my lifetime. But stop—the +curtain rises.”</p> + +<p>The screen was indeed withdrawn, and displayed +Hermia, Helena, and their lovers, in attitudes +corresponding to the scene of confusion occasioned +by the error of Puck.</p> + +<p>Messrs. Chatterly and the Painter played their +parts neither better nor worse than amateur actors +in general; and the best that could be said of them +was, that they seemed more than half ashamed of +their exotic dresses, and of the public gaze.</p> + +<p>But against this untimely weakness Lady Penelope +was guarded, by the strong shield of self-conceit. +She minced, ambled, and, notwithstanding the +slight appearance of her person, and the depredations +which time had made on a countenance that +had never been very much distinguished for beauty, +seemed desirous to top the part of the beautiful +daughter of Egeus. The sullenness which was proper +to the character of Hermia, was much augmented +by the discovery that Miss Mowbray was so +much better dressed than herself,—a discovery<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_17" id="vol_ii_Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> +which she had but recently made, as that young +lady had not attended on the regular rehearsals at +the Well, but once, and then without her stage +habit. Her ladyship, however, did not permit this +painful sense of inferiority, where she had expected +triumph, so far to prevail over her desire of shining, +as to interrupt materially the manner in which she +had settled to represent her portion of the scene. +The nature of the exhibition precluded much +action, but Lady Penelope made amends by such a +succession of grimaces, as might rival, in variety at +least, the singular display which Garrick used to +call “going his rounds.” She twisted her poor +features into looks of most desperate love towards +Lysander; into those of wonder and offended pride, +when she turned them upon Demetrius; and finally +settled them on Helena, with the happiest possible +imitation of an incensed rival, who feels the impossibility +of relieving her swollen heart by tears alone, +and is just about to have recourse to her nails.</p> + +<p>No contrast could be stronger in looks, demeanour, +and figure, than that between Hermia and +Helena. In the latter character, the beautiful form +and foreign dress of Miss Mowbray attracted all +eyes. She kept her place on the stage, as a sentinel +does that which his charge assigns him; for she +had previously told her brother, that though she +consented, at his importunity, to make part of the +exhibition, it was as a piece of the scene, not as an +actor, and accordingly a painted figure could scarce be +more immovable. The expression of her countenance +seemed to be that of deep sorrow and perplexity, +belonging to her part, over which wandered at +times an air of irony or ridicule, as if she were +secretly scorning the whole exhibition, and even<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_18" id="vol_ii_Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> +herself for condescending to become part of it. +Above all, a sense of bashfulness had cast upon her +cheek a colour, which, though sufficiently slight, +was more than her countenance was used to display; +and when the spectators beheld, in the splendour +and grace of a rich Oriental dress, her whom they +had hitherto been accustomed to see attired only in +the most careless manner, they felt the additional +charms of surprise and contrast; so that the bursts +of applause which were vollied towards the stage, +might be said to be addressed to her alone, and to vie +in sincerity with those which have been forced from +an audience by the most accomplished performer.</p> + +<p>“Oh, that puir Lady Penelope!” said honest +Mrs. Blower, who, when her scruples against the +exhibition were once got over, began to look upon +it with particular interest,—“I am really sorry for +her puir face, for she gars it work like the sails of +John Blower's vesshel in a stiff breeze.—Oh, Doctor +Cacklehen, dinna ye think she wad need, if it +were possible, to rin ower her face wi' a gusing iron, +just to take the wrunkles out o't?”</p> + +<p>“Hush, hush! my good dear Mrs. Blower,” said +the Doctor; “Lady Penelope is a woman of quality, +and my patient, and such people always act charmingly—you +must understand there is no hissing at +a private theatre—Hem!”</p> + +<p>“Ye may say what ye like, Doctor, but there +is nae fule like an auld fule—To be sure, if she was +as young and beautiful as Miss Mowbray—hegh +me, and I didna use to think her sae bonny neither—but +dress—dress makes an unco difference—That +shawl o' hers—I daur say the like o't was +ne'er seen in braid Scotland—It will be real Indian, +I'se warrant.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_19" id="vol_ii_Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Real Indian!” said Mr. Touchwood, in an +accent of disdain, which rather disturbed Mrs. +Blower's equanimity,—“why, what do you suppose +it should be, madam?”</p> + +<p>“I dinna ken, sir,” said she, edging somewhat +nearer the Doctor, not being altogether pleased, as +she afterwards allowed, with the outlandish appearance +and sharp tone of the traveller; then pulling +her own drapery round her shoulders, she added, +courageously, “There are braw shawls made at +Paisley, that ye will scarce ken frae foreign.”</p> + +<p>“Not know Paisley shawls from Indian, madam?” +said Touchwood; “why, a blind man could tell by +the slightest touch of his little finger. Yon shawl, +now, is the handsomest I have seen in Britain—and +at this distance I can tell it to be a real +<i>Tozie</i>.”</p> + +<p>“Cozie may she weel be that wears it,” said Mrs. +Blower. “I declare, now I look on't again, it's a +perfect beauty.”</p> + +<p>“It is called Tozie, ma'am, not cozie,” continued +the traveller; “the Shroffs at Surat told me in 1801, +that it is made out of the inner coat of a goat.”</p> + +<p>“Of a sheep, sir, I am thinking ye mean, for goats +has nae woo'.”</p> + +<p>“Not much of it, indeed, madam, but you are to +understand they use only the inmost coat; and then +their dyes—that Tozie now will keep its colour +while there is a rag of it left—men bequeath +them in legacies to their grandchildren.”</p> + +<p>“And a very bonny colour it is,” said the dame; +“something like a mouse's back, only a thought +redder—I wonder what they ca' that colour.”</p> + +<p>“The colour is much admired, madam,” said +Touchwood, who was now on a favourite topic;<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_20" id="vol_ii_Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> +“the Mussulmans say the colour is betwixt that of +an elephant and the breast of the <i>faughta</i>.”</p> + +<p>“In troth, I am as wise as I was,” said Mrs. +Blower.</p> + +<p>“The <i>faughta</i>, madam, so called by the Moors, +(for the Hindhus call it <i>hollah</i>,) is a sort of pigeon, +held sacred among the Moslem of India, because +they think it dyed its breast in the blood of Ali.—But +I see they are closing the scene.—Mr. Cargill, +are you composing your sermon, my good friend, or +what can you be thinking of?”</p> + +<p>Mr. Cargill had, during the whole scene, remained +with his eyes fixed, in intent and anxious, although +almost unconscious gaze, upon Clara Mowbray; and +when the voice of his companion startled him out of +his reverie, he exclaimed, “Most lovely—most +unhappy—yes—I must and will see her!”</p> + +<p>“See her?” replied Touchwood, too much accustomed +to his friend's singularities to look for much +reason or connexion in any thing he said or did; +“Why, you shall see her and talk to her too, if that +will give you pleasure.—They say now,” he continued, +lowering his voice to a whisper, “that this +Mowbray is ruined. I see nothing like it, since he +can dress out his sister like a Begum. Did you +ever see such a splendid shawl?”</p> + +<p>“Dearly purchased splendour,” said Mr. Cargill, +with a deep sigh; “I wish that the price be yet +fully paid!”</p> + +<p>“Very likely not,” said the traveller; “very likely +it's gone to the book; and for the price, I have +known a thousand rupees given for such a shawl in +the country.—But hush, hush, we are to have +another tune from Nathaniel—faith, and they are +withdrawing the screen—Well, they have some<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_21" id="vol_ii_Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> +mercy—they do not let us wait long between the +acts of their follies at least—I love a quick and +rattling fire in these vanities—Folly walking a +funeral pace, and clinking her bells to the time of a +passing knell, makes sad work indeed.”</p> + +<p>A strain of music, beginning slowly, and terminating +in a light and wild allegro, introduced on the +stage those delightful creatures of the richest imagination +that ever teemed with wonders, the Oberon +and Titania of Shakspeare. The pigmy majesty of +the captain of the fairy band had no unapt representative +in Miss Digges, whose modesty was not +so great an intruder as to prevent her desire to +present him in all his dignity, and she moved, conscious +of the graceful turn of a pretty ankle, which, +encircled with a string of pearls, and clothed in +flesh-coloured silk, of the most cobweb texture, rose +above the crimson sandal. Her jewelled tiara, too, +gave dignity to the frown with which the offended +King of Shadows greeted his consort, as each entered +upon the scene at the head of their several +attendants.</p> + +<p>The restlessness of the children had been duly +considered; and, therefore, their part of the exhibition +had been contrived to represent dumb show, +rather than a stationary picture. The little Queen +of Elves was not inferior in action to her moody +lord, and repaid, with a look of female impatience +and scorn, the haughty air which seemed to express +his sullen greeting,</p> + +<p> +“Ill met by moonlight, proud Titania.”<br /> +</p> + +<p>The other children were, as usual, some clever and +forward, some loutish and awkward enough; but +the gambols of childhood are sure to receive<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_22" id="vol_ii_Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> +applause, paid, perhaps, with a mixture of pity and +envy, by those in advanced life; and besides, there +were in the company several fond papas and mammas, +whose clamorous approbation, though given +apparently to the whole performers, was especially +dedicated in their hearts to their own little Jackies +and Marias,—for <i>Mary</i>, though the prettiest and +most classical of Scottish names, is now unknown +in the land. The elves, therefore, played their +frolics, danced a measure, and vanished with good +approbation.</p> + +<p>The anti-mask, as it may be called, of Bottom, +and his company of actors, next appeared on the +stage, and a thunder of applause received the young +Earl, who had, with infinite taste and dexterity, +transformed himself into the similitude of an Athenian +clown; observing the Grecian costume, yet so +judiciously discriminated from the dress of the +higher characters, as at once to fix the character of +a thick-skinned mechanic on the wearer. Touchwood, +in particular, was loud in his approbation, +from which the correctness of the costume must be +inferred; for that honest gentleman, like many other +critics, was indeed not very much distinguished for +good taste, but had a capital memory for petty matters +of fact; and, while the most impressive look +or gesture of an actor might have failed to interest +him, would have censured most severely the fashion +of a sleeve, or the colour of a shoe-tie.</p> + +<p>But the Earl of Etherington's merits were not +confined to his external appearance; for, had his +better fortunes failed him, his deserts, like those of +Hamlet, might have got him a fellowship in a cry +of players. He presented, though in dumb show, +the pragmatic conceit of Bottom, to the infinite<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_23" id="vol_ii_Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> +amusement of all present, especially of those who +were well acquainted with the original; and when he +was “translated” by Puck, he bore the ass's head, +his newly-acquired dignity, with an appearance of +conscious greatness, which made the metamorphosis, +though in itself sufficiently farcical, irresistibly +comic. He afterwards displayed the same humour +in his frolics with the fairies, and the intercourse +which he held with Messrs. Cobweb, Mustard-seed, +Pease-blossom, and the rest of Titania's cavaliers, +who lost all command of their countenances at the +gravity with which he invited them to afford him +the luxury of scratching his hairy snout. Mowbray +had also found a fitting representative for Puck in a +queer-looking, small-eyed boy of the Aultoun of St. +Ronan's, with large ears projecting from his head +like turrets from a Gothic building. This exotic +animal personified the merry and mocking spirit of +Hobgoblin with considerable power, so that the +group bore some resemblance to the well-known +and exquisite delineation of Puck by Sir Joshua, in +the select collection of the Bard of Memory. It +was, however, the ruin of the St. Ronan's Robin +Goodfellow, who did no good afterwards,—“gaed +an ill gate,” as Meg Dods said, and “took on” with +a party of strolling players.</p> + +<p>The entertainment closed with a grand parade +of all the characters that had appeared, during +which Mowbray concluded that the young lord +himself, unremarked, might have time enough to +examine the outward form, at least, of his sister +Clara, whom, in the pride of his heart, he could +not help considering superior in beauty, dressed as +she now was, with every advantage of art, even to +the brilliant Amazon, Lady Binks. It is true,<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_24" id="vol_ii_Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> +Mowbray was not a man to give preference to the +intellectual expression of poor Clara's features over +the sultana-like beauty of the haughty dame, which +promised to an admirer all the vicissitudes that +can be expressed by a countenance lovely in every +change, and changing as often as an ardent and +impetuous disposition, unused to constraint, and +despising admonition, should please to dictate. +Yet, to do him justice, though his preference was +perhaps dictated more by fraternal partiality than +by purity of taste, he certainly, on the present occasion, +felt the full extent of Clara's superiority; and +there was a proud smile on his lip, as, at the conclusion +of the divertisement, he asked the Earl how +he had been pleased. The rest of the performers +had separated, and the young lord remained on the +stage, employed in disembarrassing himself of his +awkward visor, when Mowbray put this question, +to which, though general in terms, he naturally +gave a particular meaning.</p> + +<p>“I could wear my ass's head for ever,” he said, +“on condition my eyes were to be so delightfully +employed as they have been during the last scene.—Mowbray, +your sister is an angel!”</p> + +<p>“Have a care that that headpiece of yours has +not perverted your taste, my lord,” said Mowbray. +“But why did you wear that disguise on your last +appearance? You should, I think, have been +uncovered.”</p> + +<p>“I am ashamed to answer you,” said the Earl; +“but truth is, first impressions are of consequence, +and I thought I might do as wisely not to appear +before your sister, for the first time, in the character +of Bully Bottom.”</p> + +<p>“Then you change your dress, my lord, for<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_25" id="vol_ii_Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> +dinner, if we call our luncheon by that name?” +said Mowbray.</p> + +<p>“I am going to my room this instant for that +very purpose,” replied the Earl.</p> + +<p>“And I,” said Mowbray, “must step in front, +and dismiss the audience; for I see they are sitting +gaping there, waiting for another scene.”</p> + +<p>They parted upon this; and Mowbray, as Duke +Theseus, stepped before the screen, and announcing +the conclusion of the dramatic pictures which they +had had the honour to present before the worshipful +company, thanked the spectators for the very +favourable reception which they had afforded; and +intimated to them, that if they could amuse themselves +by strolling for an hour among the gardens, +a bell would summon to the house at the expiry of +that time, when some refreshments would wait +their acceptance. This annunciation was received +with the applause due to the <i>Amphitryon ou l'on +dine</i>; and the guests, arising from before the temporary +theatre, dispersed through the gardens, which +were of some extent, to seek for or create amusement +to themselves. The music greatly aided them in +this last purpose, and it was not long ere a dozen +of couples and upwards, were “tripping it on the +light fantastic toe,” (I love a phrase that is not +hackneyed,) to the tune of Monymusk.</p> + +<p>Others strolled through the grounds, meeting +some quaint disguise at the end of every verdant +alley, and communicating to others the surprise +and amusement which they themselves were receiving. +The scene, from the variety of dresses, the +freedom which it gave to the display of humour +amongst such as possessed any, and the general +disposition to give and receive pleasure, rendered<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_26" id="vol_ii_Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> +the little masquerade more entertaining than others +of the kind for which more ample and magnificent +preparations have been made. There was also a +singular and pleasing contrast between the fantastic +figures who wandered through the gardens, +and the quiet scene itself, to which the old clipt +hedges, the formal distribution of the ground, and +the antiquated appearance of one or two fountains +and artificial cascades, in which the naiads had +been for the nonce compelled to resume their +ancient frolics, gave an appearance of unusual simplicity +and seclusion, and which seemed rather to +belong to the last than to the present generation.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_27" id="vol_ii_Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span></p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol_ii_CHAPTER_II" id="vol_ii_CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II.</h2> + +<h3>PERPLEXITIES.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">For revels, dances, masks, and merry hours,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Fore-run fair Love, strewing his way with flowers.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="citation"> +<i>Love's Labour's Lost.</i><br /> +</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Worthies, away—the scene begins to cloud.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="citation"> +<i>Ibidem.</i><br /> +</p> + + +<p>Mr. Touchwood, and his inseparable friend, Mr. +Cargill, wandered on amidst the gay groups +we have described, the former censuring with +great scorn the frequent attempts which he +observed towards an imitation of the costume +of the East, and appealing with self-complacence +to his own superior representation, as he greeted, +in Moorish and in Persic, the several turban'd +figures who passed his way; while the clergyman, +whose mind seemed to labour with some weighty +and important project, looked in every direction +for the fair representative of Helena, but in vain. +At length he caught a glimpse of the memorable +shawl, which had drawn forth so learned a discussion +from his companion; and, starting from +Touchwood's side with a degree of anxious alertness +totally foreign to his usual habits, he endeavoured +to join the person by whom it was worn.</p> + +<p>“By the Lord,” said his companion, “the Doctor +is beside himself!—the parson is mad!—the +divine is out of his senses, that is clear; and how<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_28" id="vol_ii_Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> +the devil can he, who scarce can find his road +from the Cleikum to his own manse, venture +himself unprotected into such a scene of confusion?—he +might as well pretend to cross the +Atlantic without a pilot—I must push off in +chase of him, lest worse come of it.”</p> + +<p>But the traveller was prevented from executing +his friendly purpose by a sort of crowd which came +rushing down the alley, the centre of which was +occupied by Captain MacTurk, in the very act +of bullying two pseudo Highlanders, for having +presumed to lay aside their breeches before they +had acquired the Gaelic language. The sounds +of contempt and insult with which the genuine +Celt was overwhelming the unfortunate impostors, +were not, indeed, intelligible otherwise than from +the tone and manner of the speaker; but these +intimated so much displeasure, that the plaided +forms whose unadvised choice of a disguise had +provoked it—two raw lads from a certain great +manufacturing town—heartily repented their +temerity, and were in the act of seeking for the +speediest exit from the gardens; rather choosing +to resign their share of the dinner, than to abide +the farther consequences that might follow from +the displeasure of this highland Termagant.</p> + +<p>Touchwood had scarcely extricated himself from +this impediment, and again commenced his +researches after the clergyman, when his course +was once more interrupted by a sort of pressgang, +headed by Sir Bingo Binks, who, in order to play +his character of a drunken boatswain to the life, +seemed certainly drunk enough, however little of +a seaman. His cheer sounded more like a view-hollo +than a hail, when, with a volley of such oaths<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_29" id="vol_ii_Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> +as would have blown a whole fleet of the Bethel +Union out of the water, he ordered Touchwood “to +come under his lee, and be d——d; for, smash his +old timbers, he must go to sea again, for as weather-beaten +a hulk as he was.”</p> + +<p>Touchwood answered instantly, “To sea with +all my heart, but not with a land-lubber for commander.—Harkye, +brother, do you know how +much of a horse's furniture belongs to a ship?”</p> + +<p>“Come, none of your quizzing, my old buck,” +said Sir Bingo—“What the devil has a ship to +do with horse's furniture?—Do you think we +belong to the horse-marines?—ha! ha! I think +you're matched, brother.”</p> + +<p>“Why, you son of a fresh-water gudgeon,” +replied the traveller, “that never in your life +sailed farther than the Isle of Dogs, do you pretend +to play a sailor, and not know the bridle of the +bow-line, and the saddle of the boltsprit, and the +bit for the cable, and the girth to hoist the rigging, +and the whip to serve for small tackle?—There is +a trick for you to find out an Abram-man, and +save sixpence when he begs of you as a disbanded +seaman.—Get along with you! or the constable +shall be charged with the whole pressgang to man +the workhouse.”</p> + +<p>A general laugh arose at the detection of the +swaggering boatswain; and all that the Baronet +had for it was to sneak off, saying, “D—n the old +quiz, who the devil thought to have heard so much +slang from an old muslin nightcap!”</p> + +<p>Touchwood being now an object of some attention, +was followed by two or three stragglers, whom he +endeavoured to rid himself of the best way he +could, testifying an impatience a little inconsistent<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_30" id="vol_ii_Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> +with the decorum of his Oriental demeanour, but +which arose from his desire to rejoin his companion, +and some apprehension of inconvenience which he +feared Cargill might sustain during his absence. +For, being in fact as good-natured a man as any +in the world, Mr. Touchwood was at the same time +one of the most conceited, and was very apt to +suppose, that his presence, advice, and assistance, +were of the most indispensable consequence to those +with whom he lived; and that not only on great +emergencies, but even in the most ordinary occurrences +of life.</p> + +<p>Meantime, Mr. Cargill, whom he sought in vain, +was, on his part, anxiously keeping in sight of +the beautiful Indian shawl, which served as a flag +to announce to him the vessel which he held in +chase. At length he approached so close as to say, +in an anxious whisper, “Miss Mowbray—Miss +Mowbray—I must speak with you.”</p> + +<p>“And what would you have with Miss Mowbray?” +said the fair wearer of the beautiful shawl, +but without turning round her head.</p> + +<p>“I have a secret—an important secret, of which +to make you aware; but it is not for this place.—Do +not turn from me!—Your happiness in this, +and perhaps in the next life, depends on your +listening to me.”</p> + +<p>The lady led the way, as if to give him an opportunity +of speaking with her more privately, to +one of those old-fashioned and deeply-embowered +recesses, which are commonly found in such gardens +as that of Shaws-Castle; and, with her shawl +wrapped around her head, so as in some degree to +conceal her features, she stood before Mr. Cargill in +the doubtful light and shadow of a huge platanus<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_31" id="vol_ii_Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> +tree, which formed the canopy of the arbour, and +seemed to await the communication he had +promised.</p> + +<p>“Report says,” said the clergyman, speaking in +an eager and hurried manner, yet with a low voice, +and like one desirous of being heard by her whom +he addressed, and by no one else,—“Report says +that you are about to be married.”</p> + +<p>“And is report kind enough to say to whom?” +answered the lady, with a tone of indifference which +seemed to astound her interrogator.</p> + +<p>“Young lady,” he answered, with a solemn voice, +“had this levity been sworn to me, I could never +have believed it! Have you forgot the circumstances +in which you stand?—Have you forgotten +that my promise of secrecy, sinful perhaps even in +that degree, was but a conditional promise?—or +did you think that a being so sequestered as I am +was already dead to the world, even while he was +walking upon its surface?—Know, young lady, that +I am indeed dead to the pleasures and the ordinary +business of life, but I am even therefore the more +alive to its duties.”</p> + +<p>“Upon my honour, sir, unless you are pleased +to be more explicit, it is impossible for me either +to answer or understand you,” said the lady; “you +speak too seriously for a masquerade pleasantry, +and yet not clearly enough to make your earnest +comprehensible.”</p> + +<p>“Is this sullenness, Miss Mowbray?” said the +clergyman, with increased animation; “Is it levity?—Or +is it alienation of mind?—Even after a fever +of the brain, we retain a recollection of the causes +of our illness.—Come, you must and do understand +me, when I say, that I will not consent to your<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_32" id="vol_ii_Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> +committing a great crime to attain temporal wealth +and rank, no, not to make you an empress. My path +is a clear one; and should I hear a whisper breathed +of your alliance with this Earl, or whatever he may +be, rely upon it, that I will withdraw the veil, and +make your brother, your bridegroom, and the whole +world, acquainted with the situation in which you +stand, and the impossibility of your forming the +alliance which you propose to yourself, I am compelled +to say, against the laws of God and man.”</p> + +<p>“But, sir—sir,” answered the lady, rather eagerly +than anxiously, “you have not yet told me what +business you have with my marriage, or what arguments +you can bring against it.”</p> + +<p>“Madam,” replied Mr. Cargill, “in your present +state of mind, and in such a scene as this, I cannot +enter upon a topic for which the season is unfit, and +you, I am sorry to say, are totally unprepared. It +is enough that you know the grounds on which you +stand. At a fitter opportunity, I will, as it is my +duty, lay before you the enormity of what you are +said to have meditated, with the freedom which +becomes one, who, however humble, is appointed +to explain to his fellow-creatures the laws of his +Maker. In the meantime, I am not afraid that +you will take any hasty step, after such a warning +as this.”</p> + +<p>So saying, he turned from the lady with that dignity +which a conscious discharge of duty confers, +yet, at the same time, with a sense of deep pain, +inflicted by the careless levity of her whom he +addressed. She did not any longer attempt to +detain him, but made her escape from the arbour by +one alley, as she heard voices which seemed to +approach it from another. The clergyman, who took<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_33" id="vol_ii_Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> +the opposite direction, met in full encounter a whispering +and tittering pair, who seemed, at his sudden +appearance, to check their tone of familiarity, and +assume an appearance of greater distance towards +each other. The lady was no other than the fair +Queen of the Amazons, who seemed to have adopted +the recent partiality of Titania towards Bully Bottom, +being in conference such and so close as we +have described, with the late representative of the +Athenian weaver, whom his recent visit to his chamber +had metamorphosed into the more gallant +disguise of an ancient Spanish cavalier. He now +appeared with cloak and drooping plume, sword, +poniard, and guitar, richly dressed at all points, as +for a serenade beneath his mistress's window; a silk +mask at the breast of his embroidered doublet hung +ready to be assumed in case of intrusion, as an +appropriate part of the national dress.</p> + +<p>It sometimes happened to Mr. Cargill, as we +believe it may chance to other men much subject to +absence of mind, that, contrary to their wont, and +much after the manner of a sunbeam suddenly +piercing a deep mist, and illuminating one particular +object in the landscape, some sudden recollection +rushes upon them, and seems to compel them to +act under it, as under the influence of complete +certainty and conviction. Mr. Cargill had no sooner +set eyes on the Spanish cavalier, in whom he neither +knew the Earl of Etherington, nor recognised Bully +Bottom, than with hasty emotion he seized on his +reluctant hand, and exclaimed, with a mixture of +eagerness and solemnity, “I rejoice to see you!—Heaven +has sent you here in its own good time.”</p> + +<p>“I thank you, sir,” replied Lord Etherington, +very coldly, “I believe you have the joy of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_34" id="vol_ii_Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> +meeting entirely on your side, as I cannot remember +having seen you before.”</p> + +<p>“Is not your name Bulmer?” said the clergyman. +“I—I know—I am sometimes apt to make +mistakes—But I am sure your name is Bulmer?”</p> + +<p>“Not that ever I or my godfathers heard of—my +name was Bottom half an hour ago—perhaps +that makes the confusion,” answered the Earl, with +very cold and distant politeness;—“Permit me to +pass, sir, that I may attend the lady.”</p> + +<p>“Quite unnecessary,” answered Lady Binks; “I +leave you to adjust your mutual recollections with +your new old friend, my lord—he seems to have +something to say.” So saying, the lady walked on, +not perhaps sorry of an opportunity to show apparent +indifference for his lordship's society in the +presence of one who had surprised them in what +might seem a moment of exuberant intimacy.</p> + +<p>“You detain me, sir,” said the Earl of Etherington +to Mr. Cargill, who, bewildered and uncertain, still +kept himself placed so directly before the young +nobleman, as to make it impossible for him to pass, +without absolutely pushing him to one side. “I +must really attend the lady,” he added, making +another effort to walk on.</p> + +<p>“Young man,” said Mr. Cargill, “you cannot disguise +yourself from me. I am sure—my mind +assures me, that you are that very Bulmer whom +Heaven hath sent here to prevent crime.”</p> + +<p>“And you,” said Lord Etherington, “whom my +mind assures me I never saw in my life, are sent +hither by the devil, I think, to create confusion.”</p> + +<p>“I beg pardon, sir,” said the clergyman, staggered +by the calm and pertinacious denial of the Earl—“I +beg pardon if I am in a mistake—that is, if I<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_35" id="vol_ii_Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> +am <i>really</i> in a mistake—but I am not—I am sure +I am not!—That look—that smile—I am <span class="lowercase smcap">NOT</span> +mistaken. You <i>are</i> Valentine Bulmer—the very +Valentine Bulmer whom I—but I will not make +your private affairs any part of this exposition—enough, +you <i>are</i> Valentine Bulmer.”</p> + +<p>“Valentine?—Valentine?” answered Lord Etherington, +impatiently,—“I am neither Valentine nor +Orson—I wish you good-morning, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Stay, sir, stay, I charge you,” said the clergyman; +“if you are unwilling to be known yourself, it +may be because you have forgotten who I am—Let +me name myself as the Reverend Josiah Cargill, +minister of St. Ronan's.”</p> + +<p>“If you bear a character so venerable, sir,” replied +the young nobleman,—“in which, however, I am +not in the least interested,—I think when you +make your morning draught a little too potent, it +might be as well for you to stay at home and sleep +it off, before coming into company.”</p> + +<p>“In the name of Heaven, young gentleman,” said +Mr. Cargill, “lay aside this untimely and unseemly +jesting! and tell me if you be not—as I cannot +but still believe you to be—that same youth, who, +seven years since, left in my deposit a solemn secret, +which, if I should unfold to the wrong person, woe +would be my own heart, and evil the consequences +which might ensue!”</p> + +<p>“You are very pressing with me, sir,” said the +Earl; “and, in exchange, I will be equally frank +with you.—I am not the man whom you mistake me +for, and you may go seek him where you will—It will +be still more lucky for you if you chance to find your +own wits in the course of your researches; for I +must tell you plainly, I think they are gone some<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_36" id="vol_ii_Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span>what +astray.” So saying, with a gesture expressive +of a determined purpose to pass on, Mr. Cargill had +no alternative but to make way, and suffer him to +proceed.</p> + +<p>The worthy clergyman stood as if rooted to the +ground, and, with his usual habit of thinking aloud +exclaimed to himself, “My fancy has played me +many a bewildering trick, but this is the most +extraordinary of them all!—What can this young +man think of me? It must have been my conversation +with that unhappy young lady that has made +such an impression upon me as to deceive my very +eyesight, and causes me to connect with her history +the face of the next person that I met—What +<i>must</i> the stranger think of me!”</p> + +<p>“Why, what every one thinks of thee that knows +thee, prophet,” said the friendly voice of Touchwood, +accompanying his speech with an awakening slap on +the clergyman's shoulder; “and that is, that thou +art an unfortunate philosopher of Laputa, who has +lost his flapper in the throng.—Come along—having +me once more by your side, you need fear +nothing. Why, now I look at you closer, you look as +if you had seen a basilisk—not that there is any such +thing, otherwise I must have seen it myself, in the +course of my travels—but you seem pale and frightened—What +the devil is the matter?”</p> + +<p>“Nothing,” answered the clergyman, “except +that I have even this very moment made an egregious +fool of myself.”</p> + +<p>“Pooh, pooh, that is nothing to sigh over, prophet.—Every +man does so at least twice in the four-and-twenty +hours,” said Touchwood.</p> + +<p>“But I had nearly betrayed to a stranger, a secret +deeply concerning the honour of an ancient family.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_37" id="vol_ii_Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span></p> + +<p>“That was wrong, Doctor,” said Touchwood; +“take care of that in future; and, indeed, I would +advise you not to speak even to your beadle, Johnie +Tirlsneck, until you have assured yourself, by at +least three pertinent questions and answers, that you +have the said Johnie corporeally and substantially +in presence before you, and that your fancy has not +invested some stranger with honest Johnie's singed +periwig and threadbare brown joseph—Come along—come +along.”</p> + +<p>So saying, he hurried forward the perplexed +clergyman, who in vain made all the excuses he +could think of in order to effect his escape from the +scene of gaiety, in which he was so unexpectedly +involved. He pleaded headache; and his friend +assured him that a mouthful of food, and a glass of +wine, would mend it. He stated he had business; +and Touchwood replied that he could have none but +composing his next sermon, and reminded him that +it was two days till Sunday. At length, Mr. Cargill +confessed that he had some reluctance again to see +the stranger, on whom he had endeavoured with +such pertinacity to fix an acquaintance, which he +was now well assured existed only in his own imagination. +The traveller treated his scruples with +scorn, and said, that guests meeting in this general +manner, had no more to do with each other than if +they were assembled in a caravansary.</p> + +<p>“So that you need not say a word to him in the +way of apology or otherwise—or, what will be still +better, I, who have seen so much of the world, will +make the pretty speech for you.” As they spoke, +he dragged the divine towards the house, where +they were now summoned by the appointed signal, +and where the company were assembling in the old<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_38" id="vol_ii_Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> +saloon already noticed, previous to passing into the +dining-room, where the refreshments were prepared. +“Now, Doctor,” continued the busy friend of Mr. +Cargill, “let us see which of all these people has +been the subject of your blunder. Is it yon animal +of a Highlandman?—or the impertinent brute that +wants to be thought a boatswain?—or which of +them all is it?—Ay, here they come, two and two, +Newgate fashion—the young Lord of the Manor +with old Lady Penelope—does he set up for +Ulysses, I wonder?—The Earl of Etherington with +Lady Bingo—methinks it should have been with +Miss Mowbray.”</p> + +<p>“The Earl of what, did you say?” quoth the +clergyman, anxiously. “How is it you titled that +young man in the Spanish dress?”</p> + +<p>“Oho!” said the traveller; “what, I have discovered +the goblin that has scared you?—Come +along—come along—I will make you acquainted +with him.” So saying, he dragged him towards +Lord Etherington; and before the divine could +make his negative intelligible, the ceremony of +introduction had taken place. “My Lord Etherington, +allow me to present Mr. Cargill, minister of +this parish—a learned gentleman, whose head is +often in the Holy Land, when his person seems present +among his friends. He suffers extremely, my +lord, under the sense of mistaking your lordship for +the Lord knows who; but when you are acquainted +with him, you will find that he can make a hundred +stranger mistakes than that, so we hope that your +lordship will take no prejudice or offence.”</p> + +<p>“There can be no offence taken where no offence +is intended,” said Lord Etherington, with much +urbanity. “It is I who ought to beg the reverend<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_39" id="vol_ii_Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> +gentleman's pardon, for hurrying from him without +allowing him to make a complete eclaircissement. +I beg his pardon for an abruptness which the place +and the time—for I was immediately engaged in a +lady's service—rendered unavoidable.”</p> + +<p>Mr. Cargill gazed on the young nobleman as he +pronounced these words, with the easy indifference +of one who apologizes to an inferior in order to +maintain his own character for politeness, but with +perfect indifference whether his excuses are or are +not held satisfactory. And as the clergyman gazed, +the belief which had so strongly clung to him that +the Earl of Etherington and young Valentine Bulmer +were the same individual person, melted away +like frostwork before the morning sun, and that so +completely, that he marvelled at himself for having +ever entertained it. Some strong resemblance of +features there must have been to have led him into +such a delusion; but the person, the tone, the +manner of expression, were absolutely different; and +his attention being now especially directed towards +these particulars, Mr. Cargill was inclined to think +the two personages almost totally dissimilar.</p> + +<p>The clergyman had now only to make his apology, +and fall back from the head of the table to +some lower seat, which his modesty would have preferred, +when he was suddenly seized upon by the +Lady Penelope Penfeather, who, detaining him in +the most elegant and persuasive manner possible, +insisted that they should be introduced to each other +by Mr. Mowbray, and that Mr. Cargill should +sit beside her at table.—She had heard so much of +his learning—so much of his excellent character—desired +so much to make his acquaintance, that she +could not think of losing an opportunity, which Mr.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_40" id="vol_ii_Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> +Cargill's learned seclusion rendered so very rare—in +a word, catching the Black Lion was the order +of the day; and her ladyship having trapped her +prey, soon sat triumphant with him by her side.</p> + +<p>A second separation was thus effected betwixt +Touchwood and his friend; for the former, not +being included in the invitation, or, indeed, at all +noticed by Lady Penelope, was obliged to find room +at a lower part of the table, where he excited much +surprise by the dexterity with which he dispatched +boiled rice with chop-sticks.</p> + +<p>Mr. Cargill being thus exposed, without a consort, +to the fire of Lady Penelope, speedily found it +so brisk and incessant, as to drive his complaisance, +little tried as it had been for many years by small +talk, almost to extremity. She began by begging +him to draw his chair close, for an instinctive terror +of fine ladies had made him keep his distance. +At the same time, she hoped “he was not afraid of +her as an Episcopalian; her father had belonged to +that communion; for,” she added, with what was +intended for an arch smile, “we were somewhat +naughty in the forty-five, as you may have heard; +but all that was over, and she was sure Mr. Cargill +was too liberal to entertain any dislike or shyness +on that score.—She could assure him she was far +from disliking the Presbyterian form—indeed she +had often wished to hear it, where she was sure +to be both delighted and edified” (here a gracious +smile) “in the church of St. Ronan's—and hoped +to do so whenever Mr. Mowbray had got a stove, +which he had ordered from Edinburgh, on purpose +to air his pew for her accommodation.”</p> + +<p>All this, which was spoken with wreathed smiles +and nods, and so much civility as to remind the<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_41" id="vol_ii_Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> +clergyman of a cup of tea over-sweetened to conceal +its want of strength, and flavour, required and +received no farther answer than an accommodating +look and acquiescent bow.</p> + +<p>“Ah, Mr. Cargill,” continued the inexhaustible +Lady Penelope, “your profession has so many +demands on the heart as well as the understanding—is +so much connected with the kindnesses and +charities of our nature—with our best and purest +feelings, Mr. Cargill! You know what Goldsmith +says:—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">——‘to his duty prompt at every call,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">He watch'd, and wept, and felt, and pray'd for all.’<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>And then Dryden has such a picture of a parish +priest, so inimitable, one would think, did we not +hear now and then of some living mortal presuming +to emulate its features,” (here another insinuating +nod and expressive smile.)</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“‘Refined himself to soul to curb the sense,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And almost made a sin of abstinence.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yet had his aspect nothing of severe,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But such a face as promised him sincere;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nothing reserved or sullen was to see,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But sweet regard and pleasing sanctity.’”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>While her ladyship declaimed, the clergyman's +wandering eye confessed his absent mind; his +thoughts travelling, perhaps, to accomplish a truce +betwixt Saladin and Conrade of Mountserrat, unless +they chanced to be occupied with some occurrences +of that very day, so that the lady was obliged to +recall her indocile auditor with the leading question, +“You are well acquainted with Dryden, of +course, Mr. Cargill?”<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_42" id="vol_ii_Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I have not the honour, madam,” said Mr. Cargill, +starting from his reverie, and but half understanding +the question he replied to.</p> + +<p>“Sir!” said the lady in surprise.</p> + +<p>“Madam!—my lady!” answered Mr. Cargill, in +embarrassment.</p> + +<p>“I asked you if you admired Dryden;—but you +learned men are so absent—perhaps you thought I +said Leyden.”</p> + +<p>“A lamp too early quenched, madam,” said Mr +Cargill; “I knew him well.”</p> + +<p>“And so did I,” eagerly replied the lady of the +cerulean buskin; “he spoke ten languages—how +mortifying to poor me, Mr. Cargill, who could only +boast of five!—but I have studied a little since +that time—I must have you to help me in my +studies, Mr. Cargill—it will be charitable—but +perhaps you are afraid of a female pupil?”</p> + +<p>A thrill, arising from former recollections, passed +through poor Cargill's mind, with as much acuteness +as the pass of a rapier might have done through his +body; and we cannot help remarking, that a forward +prater in society, like a busy bustler in a crowd, +besides all other general points of annoyance, is +eternally rubbing upon some tender point, and +galling men's feelings, without knowing or regarding +it.</p> + +<p>“You must assist me, besides, in my little charities, +Mr. Cargill, now that you and I are become +so well acquainted.—There is that Anne Heggie—I +sent her a trifle yesterday, but I am told—I +should not mention it, but only one would not have +the little they have to bestow lavished on an improper +object—I am told she is not quite proper—an +unwedded mother, in short, Mr. Cargill—and<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_43" id="vol_ii_Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> +it would be especially unbecoming in me to encourage +profligacy.”</p> + +<p>“I believe, madam,” said the clergyman, gravely, +“the poor woman's distress may justify your ladyship's +bounty, even if her conduct has been faulty.”</p> + +<p>“O, I am no prude, neither, I assure you, Mr. +Cargill,” answered the Lady Penelope. “I never +withdraw my countenance from any one but on the +most irrefragable grounds. I could tell you of an +intimate friend of my own, whom I have supported +against the whole clamour of the people at the +Well, because I believe, from the bottom of my +soul, she is only thoughtless—nothing in the world +but thoughtless—O Mr. Cargill, how can you look +across the table so intelligently?—who would have +thought it of you?—Oh fie, to make such personal +applications!”</p> + +<p>“Upon my word, madam, I am quite at a loss to +comprehend”——</p> + +<p>“Oh fie, fie, Mr. Cargill,” throwing in as much +censure and surprise as a confidential whisper can +convey—“you looked at my Lady Binks—I know +what you think, but you are quite wrong, I assure +you; you are entirely wrong.—I wish she would +not flirt quite so much with that young Lord +Etherington though, Mr. Cargill—her situation is +particular.—Indeed, I believe she wears out his +patience; for see he is leaving the room before we +sit down—how singular!—And then, do you not +think it very odd, too, that Miss Mowbray has not +come down to us?”</p> + +<p>“Miss Mowbray!—what of Miss Mowbray—is +she not here?” said Mr. Cargill, starting, and with an +expression of interest which he had not yet bestowed +on any of her ladyship's liberal communications.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_44" id="vol_ii_Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Ay, poor Miss Mowbray,” said Lady Penelope, +lowering her voice, and shaking her head; “she has +not appeared—her brother went up stairs a few +minutes since, I believe, to bring her down, and so we +are all left here to look at each other.—How very +awkward!—But you know Clara Mowbray.”</p> + +<p>“I, madam?” said Mr. Cargill, who was now +sufficiently attentive; “I really—I know Miss +Mowbray—that is, I knew her some years since—but +your ladyship knows she has been long in +bad health—uncertain health at least, and I have +seen nothing of the young lady for a very long +time.”</p> + +<p>“I know it, my dear Mr. Cargill—I know it,” +continued the Lady Penelope, in the same tone of +deep sympathy, “I know it; and most unhappy +surely have been the circumstances that have separated +her from your advice and friendly counsel.—All +this I am aware of—and to say truth, it has +been chiefly on poor Clara's account that I have +been giving you the trouble of fixing an acquaintance +upon you.—You and I together, Mr. Cargill, +might do wonders to cure her unhappy state of mind—I +am sure we might—that is, if you could bring +your mind to repose absolute confidence in me.”</p> + +<p>“Has Miss Mowbray desired your ladyship to +converse with me upon any subject which interests +her?” said the clergyman, with more cautious +shrewdness than Lady Penelope had suspected him +of possessing. “I will in that case be happy to +hear the nature of her communication; and whatever +my poor services can perform, your ladyship +may command them.”</p> + +<p>“I—I—I cannot just assert,” said her ladyship +with hesitation, “that I have Miss Mowbray's direct<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_45" id="vol_ii_Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> +instructions to speak to you, Mr. Cargill, upon the +present subject. But my affection for the dear girl +is so very great—and then, you know, the inconveniences +which may arise from this match.”</p> + +<p>“From which match, Lady Penelope?” said Mr. +Cargill.</p> + +<p>“Nay, now, Mr. Cargill, you really carry the +privilege of Scotland too far—I have not put a +single question to you, but what you have answered +by another—let us converse intelligibly for five +minutes, if you can but condescend so far.”</p> + +<p>“For any length of time which your ladyship +may please to command,” said Mr. Cargill, “provided +the subject regard your ladyship's own affairs +or mine,—could I suppose these last for a moment +likely to interest you.”</p> + +<p>“Out upon you,” said the lady, laughing affectedly; +“you should really have been a Catholic priest +instead of a Presbyterian. What an invaluable +father confessor have the fair sex lost in you, +Mr. Cargill, and how dexterously you would have +evaded any cross-examinations which might have +committed your penitents!”</p> + +<p>“Your ladyship's raillery is far too severe for me +to withstand or reply to,” said Mr. Cargill, bowing +with more ease than her ladyship expected; and, +retiring gently backward, he extricated himself +from a conversation which he began to find somewhat +embarrassing.</p> + +<p>At that moment a murmur of surprise took place +in the apartment, which was just entered by Miss +Mowbray, leaning on her brother's arm. The cause +of this murmur will be best understood, by narrating +what had passed betwixt the brother and sister.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_46" id="vol_ii_Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol_ii_CHAPTER_III" id="vol_ii_CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III.</h2> + +<h3>EXPOSTULATION.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Seek not the feast in these irreverent robes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Go to my chamber—put on clothes of mine.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="citation"> +<i>The Taming of the Shrew.</i><br /> +</p> + + +<p>It was with a mixture of anxiety, vexation, and +resentment, that Mowbray, just when he had handed +Lady Penelope into the apartment where the tables +were covered, observed that his sister was absent, +and that Lady Binks was hanging on the arm of +Lord Etherington, to whose rank it would properly +have fallen to escort the lady of the house. An +anxious and hasty glance cast through the room, +ascertained that she was absent, nor could the +ladies present give any account of her after she had +quitted the gardens, except that Lady Penelope +had spoken a few words with her in her own apartment, +immediately after the scenic entertainment was +concluded.</p> + +<p>Thither Mowbray hurried, complaining aloud of +his sister's laziness in dressing, but internally hoping +that the delay was occasioned by nothing of a +more important character.</p> + +<p>He hastened up stairs, entered her sitting-room +without ceremony, and knocking at the door of her +dressing-room, begged her to make haste.</p> + +<p>“Here is the whole company impatient,” he said, +assuming a tone of pleasantry; “and Sir Bingo<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_47" id="vol_ii_Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> +Binks exclaiming for your presence, that he may +be let loose on the cold meat.”</p> + +<p>“Paddock calls,” said Clara from within; “anon—anon!”</p> + +<p>“Nay, it is no jest, Clara,” continued her +brother; “for here is Lady Penelope miauling like a +starved cat!”</p> + +<p>“I come—I come, greymalkin,” answered Clara, +in the same vein as before, and entered the parlour +as she spoke, her finery entirely thrown aside, and +dressed in the riding-habit which was her usual and +favourite attire.</p> + +<p>Her brother was both surprised and offended. +“On my soul,” he said, “Clara, this is behaving +very ill. I indulge you in every freak upon ordinary +occasions, but you might surely on this day, +of all others, have condescended to appear something +like my sister, and a gentlewoman receiving +company in her own house.”</p> + +<p>“Why, dearest John,” said Clara, “so that the +guests have enough to eat and drink, I cannot +conceive why I should concern myself about their +finery, or they trouble themselves about my plain +clothes.”</p> + +<p>“Come, come, Clara, this will not do,” answered +Mowbray; “you must positively go back into your +dressing-room, and huddle your things on as fast +as you can. You cannot go down to the company +dressed as you are.”</p> + +<p>“I certainly can, and I certainly will, John—I +have made a fool of myself once this morning to +oblige you, and for the rest of the day I am determined +to appear in my own dress; that is, in one +which shows I neither belong to the world, nor wish +to have any thing to do with its fashions.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_48" id="vol_ii_Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span></p> + +<p>“By my soul, Clara, I will make you repent +this!” said Mowbray, with more violence than he +usually exhibited where his sister was concerned.</p> + +<p>“You cannot, dear John,” she coolly replied, +“unless by beating me; and that I think you would +repent of yourself.”</p> + +<p>“I do not know but what it were the best way +of managing you,” said Mowbray, muttering between +his teeth; but, commanding his violence, he only +said aloud, “I am sure, from long experience, +Clara, that your obstinacy will at the long run beat +my anger. Do let us compound the point for once—keep +your old habit, since you are so fond of +making a sight of yourself, and only throw the +shawl round your shoulders—it has been exceedingly +admired, and every woman in the house +longs to see it closer—they can hardly believe it +genuine.”</p> + +<p>“Do be a man, Mowbray,” answered his sister; +“meddle with your horse-sheets, and leave shawls +alone.”</p> + +<p>“Do you be a woman, Clara, and think a little +on them, when custom and decency render it +necessary.—Nay, is it possible!—Will you not +stir—not oblige me in such a trifle as this?”</p> + +<p>“I would indeed if I could,” said Clara; “but +since you must know the truth—do not be angry—I +have not the shawl. I have given it away—given +it up, perhaps I should say, to the rightful +owner.—She has promised me something or other +in exchange for it, however. I have given it to +Lady Penelope.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” answered Mowbray, “some of the work +of her own fair hands, I suppose, or a couple of her +ladyship's drawings, made up into fire-screens.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_49" id="vol_ii_Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span>—On +my word—on my soul, this is too bad!—It is +using me too ill, Clara—far too ill. If the thing +had been of no value, my giving it to you should +have fixed some upon it.—Good-even to you; we +will do as well as we can without you.”</p> + +<p>“Nay, but, my dear John—stay but a moment,” +said Clara, taking his arm as he sullenly turned +towards the door; “there are but two of us on the +earth—do not let us quarrel about a trumpery +shawl.”</p> + +<p>“Trumpery!” said Mowbray; “It cost fifty +guineas, by G—, which I can but ill spare—trumpery!”</p> + +<p>“O, never think of the cost,” said Clara; “it +was your gift, and that should, I own, have been +enough to have made me keep to my death's day +the poorest rag of it. But really Lady Penelope +looked so very miserable, and twisted her poor face +into so many odd expressions of anger and chagrin, +that I resigned it to her, and agreed to say she had +lent it to me for the performance. I believe she +was afraid that I would change my mind, or that +you would resume it as a seignorial waif; for, after +she had walked a few turns with it wrapped around +her, merely by way of taking possession, she dispatched +it by a special messenger to her apartment +at the Well.”</p> + +<p>“She may go to the devil,” said Mowbray, “for +a greedy unconscionable jade, who has varnished +over a selfish, spiteful heart, that is as hard as a +flint, with a fine glossing of taste and sensibility!”</p> + +<p>“Nay, but, John,” replied his sister, “she really +had something to complain of in the present case. +The shawl had been bespoken on her account, or +very nearly so—she showed me the tradesman's<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_50" id="vol_ii_Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> +letter—only some agent of yours had come in +between with the ready money, which no tradesman +can resist.—Ah, John! I suspect half of your anger +is owing to the failure of a plan to mortify poor +Lady Pen, and that she has more to complain of +than you have.—Come, come, you have had the +advantage of her in the first display of this fatal +piece of finery, if wearing it on my poor shoulders +can be called a display—e'en make her welcome to +the rest for peace's sake, and let us go down to these +good folks, and you shall see how pretty and civil +I shall behave.”</p> + +<p>Mowbray, a spoiled child, and with all the petted +habits of indulgence, was exceedingly fretted at the +issue of the scheme which he had formed for mortifying +Lady Penelope; but he saw at once the +necessity of saying nothing more to his sister on the +subject. Vengeance he privately muttered against +Lady Pen, whom he termed an absolute harpy in +blue-stockings; unjustly forgetting, that in the very +important affair at issue, he himself had been the +first to interfere with and defeat her ladyship's +designs on the garment in question.</p> + +<p>“But I will blow her,” he said, “I will blow her +ladyship's conduct in the business! She shall not +outwit a poor whimsical girl like Clara, without +hearing it on more sides than one.”</p> + +<p>With this Christian and gentlemanlike feeling +towards Lady Penelope, he escorted his sister into +the eating-room, and led her to her proper place at +the head of the table. It was the negligence displayed +in her dress, which occasioned the murmur +of surprise that greeted Clara on her entrance. +Mowbray, as he placed his sister in her chair, made +her general apology for her late appearance, and her<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_51" id="vol_ii_Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> +riding-habit. “Some fairies,” he supposed, “Puck, +or such like tricksy goblin, had been in her wardrobe, +and carried off whatever was fit for wearing.”</p> + +<p>There were answers from every quarter—that it +would have been too much to expect Miss Mowbray +to dress for their amusement a second time—that +nothing she chose to wear could misbecome Miss +Mowbray—that she had set like the sun, in her +splendid scenic dress, and now rose like the full +moon in her ordinary attire, (this flight was by the +Reverend Mr. Chatterly,)—and that “Miss Mowbray +being at hame, had an unco gude right to +please hersell;” which last piece of politeness, +being at least as much to the purpose as any that +had preceded it, was the contribution of honest Mrs. +Blower; and was replied to by Miss Mowbray with +a particular and most gracious bow.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Blower ought to have rested her colloquial +fame, as Dr. Johnson would have said, upon a compliment +so evidently acceptable, but no one knows +where to stop. She thrust her broad, good-natured, +delighted countenance forward, and sending her +voice from the bottom to the top of the table, like +her umquhile husband when calling to his mate +during a breeze, wondered “why Miss Clara Moubrie +didna wear that grand shawl she had on at the +play-making, and her just sitting upon the wind +of a door. Nae doubt it was for fear of the soup, +and the butter-boats, and the like;—but <i>she</i> had +three shawls, which she really fand was ane ower +mony—if Miss Moubrie wad like to wear ane o' +them—it was but imitashion, to be sure—but it +wad keep her shouthers as warm as if it were real +Indian, and if it were dirtied it was the less +matter.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_52" id="vol_ii_Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Much obliged, Mrs. Blower,” said Mowbray +unable to resist the temptation which this speech +offered; “but my sister is not yet of quality sufficient, +to entitle her to rob her friends of their +shawls.”</p> + +<p>Lady Penelope coloured to the eyes, and bitter +was the retort that arose to her tongue; but she +suppressed it, and nodding to Miss Mowbray in +the most friendly way in the world, yet with a very +particular expression, she only said, “So you have +told your brother of the little transaction which we +have had this morning?—<i>Tu me lo pagherai</i>—I +give you fair warning, take care none of your secrets +come into my keeping—that's all.”</p> + +<p>Upon what mere trifles do the important events of +human life sometimes depend! If Lady Penelope +had given way to her first movements of resentment, +the probable issue would have been some such +half-comic half-serious skirmish, as her ladyship +and Mr. Mowbray had often amused the company +withal. But revenge which is suppressed and +deferred, is always most to be dreaded; and to the +effects of the deliberate resentment which Lady +Penelope cherished upon this trifling occasion, must +be traced the events which our history has to +record. Secretly did she determine to return the +shawl, which she had entertained hopes of making +her own upon very reasonable terms; and as secretly +did she resolve to be revenged both upon brother +and sister, conceiving herself already possessed, to +a certain degree, of a clew to some part of their +family history, which might serve for a foundation +on which to raise her projected battery. The ancient +offences and emulation of importance of the Laird +of St. Ronan's, and the superiority which had been<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_53" id="vol_ii_Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> +given to Clara in the exhibition of the day, combined +with the immediate cause of resentment; and +it only remained for her to consider how her revenge +should be most signally accomplished.</p> + +<p>Whilst such thoughts were passing through Lady +Penelope's mind, Mowbray was searching with his +eyes for the Earl of Etherington, judging that it +might be proper, in the course of the entertainment, +or before the guests had separated, to make him +formally acquainted with his sister, as a preface to +the more intimate connexion which must, in prosecution +of the plan agreed upon, take place betwixt +them. Greatly to his surprise, the young Earl was +no where visible, and the place which he had occupied +by the side of Lady Binks had been quietly +appropriated by Winterblossom, as the best and +softest chair in the room, and nearest to the head of +the table, where the choicest of the entertainment is +usually arranged. This honest gentleman, after a +few insipid compliments to her ladyship upon her +performance as Queen of the Amazons, had betaken +himself to the much more interesting occupation of +ogling the dishes, through the glass which hung +suspended at his neck by a gold chain of Maltese +workmanship. After looking and wondering for a +few seconds, Mowbray addressed himself to the old +beau-garçon, and asked him what had become of +Etherington.</p> + +<p>“Retreated,” said Winterblossom, “and left but +his compliments to you behind him—a complaint, +I think, in his wounded arm.—Upon my word, +that soup has a most appetizing flavour!—Lady +Penelope, shall I have the honour to help you?—no!—nor +you, Lady Binks?—you are too cruel!—I +must comfort myself, like a heathen priest of<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_54" id="vol_ii_Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> +old, by eating the sacrifice which the deities have +scorned to accept of.”</p> + +<p>Here he helped himself to the plate of soup which +he had in vain offered to the ladies, and transferred +the further duty of dispensing it to Mr. Chatterly; +“it is your profession, sir, to propitiate the divinities—ahem!”</p> + +<p>“I did not think Lord Etherington would have +left us so soon,” said Mowbray; “but we must do +the best we can without his countenance.”</p> + +<p>So saying, he assumed his place at the bottom +of the table, and did his best to support the character +of a hospitable and joyous landlord, while on +her part, with much natural grace, and delicacy of +attention calculated to set every body at their ease, +his sister presided at the upper end of the board. +But the vanishing of Lord Etherington in a manner +so sudden and unaccountable—the obvious ill-humour +of Lady Penelope—and the steady, though +passive, sullenness of Lady Binks, spread among +the company a gloom like that produced by an +autumnal mist upon a pleasing landscape. The +women were low-spirited, dull, nay, peevish, they +did not well know why; and the men could not be +joyous, though the ready resource of old hock and +champagne made some of them talkative.—Lady +Penelope broke up the party by well-feigned apprehension +of the difficulties, nay, dangers, of returning +by so rough a road. Lady Binks begged a seat with +her ladyship, as Sir Bingo, she said, judging from +his devotion to the green flask, was likely to need +their carriage home. From the moment of their +departure, it became bad tone to remain behind; +and all, as in a retreating army, were eager to be +foremost, excepting MacTurk and a few stanch<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_55" id="vol_ii_Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> +topers, who, unused to meet with such good cheer +every day of their lives, prudently determined to +make the most of the opportunity.</p> + +<p>We will not dwell on the difficulties attending +the transportation of a large company by few +carriages, though the delay and disputes thereby +occasioned were of course more intolerable than in +the morning, for the parties had no longer the hopes +of a happy day before them, as a bribe to submit to +temporary inconvenience. The impatience of many +was so great, that, though the evening was raw, +they chose to go on foot rather than await the dull +routine of the returning carriages; and as they +retired they agreed, with one consent, to throw the +blame of whatever inconvenience they might sustain +on their host and hostess, who had invited so large +a party before getting a shorter and better road +made between the Well and Shaws-Castle.</p> + +<p>“It would have been so easy to repair the path +by the Buck-stane!”</p> + +<p>And this was all the thanks which Mr. Mowbray +received for an entertainment which had cost him +so much trouble and expense, and had been looked +forward to by the good society at the Well with +such impatient expectation.</p> + +<p>“It was an unco pleasant show,” said the good-natured +Mrs. Blower, “only it was a pity it was sae +tediousome; and there was surely an awfu' waste +of gauze and muslin.”</p> + +<p>But so well had Dr. Quackleben improved his +numerous opportunities, that the good lady was +much reconciled to affairs in general, by the prospect +of coughs, rheumatisms, and other maladies +acquired upon the occasion, which were likely to +afford that learned gentleman, in whose prosperity<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_56" id="vol_ii_Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> +she much interested herself, a very profitable +harvest.</p> + +<p>Mowbray, somewhat addicted to the service of +Bacchus, did not find himself freed, by the secession +of so large a proportion of the company, from the +service of the jolly god, although, upon the present +occasion, he could well have dispensed with his +orgies. Neither the song, nor the pun, nor the jest, +had any power to kindle his heavy spirit, mortified +as he was by the event of his party being so different +from the brilliant consummation which he had +anticipated. The guests, stanch boon companions, +suffered not, however, their party to flag for want +of the landlord's participation, but continued to +drink bottle after bottle, with as little regard for +Mr. Mowbray's grave looks, as if they had been +carousing at the Mowbray Arms, instead of the +Mowbray mansion-house. Midnight at length released +him, when, with an unsteady step, he sought +his own apartment; cursing himself and his companions, +consigning his own person with all dispatch +to his bed, and bequeathing those of the company +to as many mosses and quagmires, as could be +found betwixt Shaws-Castle and St. Ronan's Well.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_57" id="vol_ii_Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol_ii_CHAPTER_IV" id="vol_ii_CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV.</h2> + +<h3>THE PROPOSAL.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Oh! you would be a vestal maid, I warrant,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The bride of Heaven—Come—we may shake your purpose;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For here I bring in hand a jolly suitor<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Hath ta'en degrees in the seven sciences<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That ladies love best—He is young and noble,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Handsome and valiant, gay, and rich, and liberal.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="citation"> +<i>The Nun.</i><br /> +</p> + + +<p>The morning after a debauch is usually one of +reflection, even to the most determined boon companion; +and, in the retrospect of the preceding day, +the young Laird of St. Ronan's saw nothing very +consolatory, unless that the excess was not, in the +present case, of his own seeking, but had arisen out +of the necessary duties of a landlord, or what were +considered as such by his companions.</p> + +<p>But it was not so much his dizzy recollections of +the late carouse which haunted him on awakening, +as the inexplicability which seemed to shroud the +purposes and conduct of his new ally, the Earl of +Etherington.</p> + +<p>That young nobleman had seen Miss Mowbray, +had declared his high satisfaction, had warmly and +voluntarily renewed the proposal which he had +made ere she was yet known to him—and yet, far +from seeking an opportunity to be introduced to +her, he had even left the party abruptly, in order +to avoid the necessary intercourse which must there +have taken place between them. His lordship's<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_58" id="vol_ii_Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> +flirtation with Lady Binks had not escaped the +attention of the sagacious Mowbray—her ladyship +also had been in a hurry to leave Shaws-Castle; and +Mowbray promised to himself to discover the nature +of this connexion through Mrs. Gingham, her ladyship's +attendant, or otherwise; vowing deeply at +the same time, that no peer in the realm should +make an affectation of addressing Miss Mowbray a +cloak for another and more secret intrigue. But +his doubts on this subject were in great measure +removed by the arrival of one of Lord Etherington's +grooms with the following letter:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>“<span class="smcap">My Dear Mowbray</span>,—You would naturally be +surprised at my escape from the table yesterday before +you returned to it, or your lovely sister had graced +it with her presence. I must confess my folly; and I +may do so the more boldly, for, as the footing on which +I first opened this treaty was not a very romantic one, +you will scarce suspect me of wishing to render it +such. But I did in reality feel, during the whole of +yesterday, a reluctance which I cannot express, to be +presented to the lady on whose favour the happiness of +my future life is to depend, upon such a public occasion, +and in the presence of so promiscuous a company. +I had my mask, indeed, to wear while in the promenade, +but, of course, that was to be laid aside at table, +and, consequently, I must have gone through the ceremony +of introduction; a most interesting moment, +which I was desirous to defer till a fitter season. I +trust you will permit me to call upon you at Shaws-Castle +this morning, in the hope—the anxious hope—of +being allowed to pay my duty to Miss Mowbray, +and apologize for not waiting upon her yesterday. I +expect your answer with the utmost impatience, being +always yours, &c. &c. &c.</p> + +<p style="text-align: right;"> +“<span class="smcap">Etherington</span>.”<br /> +</p></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_59" id="vol_ii_Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span></p> + +<p>“This,” said St. Ronan's to himself, as he folded +the letter deliberately, after having twice read +it over, “seems all fair and above board; I could +not wish any thing more explicit; and, moreover, +it puts into black and white, as old Mick would say, +what only rested before on our private conversation. +An especial cure for the headache, such a billet as +this in a morning.”</p> + +<p>So saying, he sat him down and wrote an answer, +expressing the pleasure he should have in seeing +his lordship as soon as he thought proper. He +watched even the departure of the groom, and +beheld him gallop off, with the speed of one who +knows that his quick return was expected by an +impatient master.</p> + +<p>Mowbray remained for a few minutes by himself, +and reflected with delight upon the probable consequences +of this match;—the advancement of his +sister—and, above all, the various advantages which +must necessarily accrue to himself, by so close an +alliance with one whom he had good reason to think +deep <i>in the secret</i>, and capable of rendering him the +most material assistance in his speculations on the +turf and in the sporting world. He then sent a +servant to let Miss Mowbray know that he intended +to breakfast with her.</p> + +<p>“I suppose, John,” said Clara, as her brother +entered the apartment, “you are glad of a weaker +cup this morning than those you were drinking +last night—you were carousing till after the first +cock.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” said Mowbray, “that sandbed, old MacTurk, +upon whom whole hogsheads make no +impression, did make a bad boy of me—but the +day is over, and they will scarce catch me in such<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_60" id="vol_ii_Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> +another scrape.—What did you think of the +masks?”</p> + +<p>“Supported as well,” said Clara, “as such folk +support the disguise of gentlemen and ladies during +life; and that is, with a great deal of bustle, and +very little propriety.”</p> + +<p>“I saw only one good mask there, and that was +a Spaniard,” said her brother.</p> + +<p>“O, I saw him too,” answered Clara; “but he +wore his visor on. An old Indian merchant, or +some such thing, seemed to me a better character—the +Spaniard did nothing but stalk about and +twangle his guitar, for the amusement of my Lady +Binks, as I think.”</p> + +<p>“He is a very clever fellow, though, that same +Spaniard,” rejoined Mowbray—“Can you guess +who he is?”</p> + +<p>“No, indeed; nor shall I take the trouble of +trying. To set to guessing about it, were as bad as +seeing the whole mummery over again.”</p> + +<p>“Well,” replied her brother, “you will allow one +thing at least—Bottom was well acted—you cannot +deny that.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” replied Clara, “that worthy really deserved +to wear his ass's head to the end of the chapter—but +what of him?”</p> + +<p>“Only conceive that he should be the very same +person with that handsome Spaniard,” replied +Mowbray.</p> + +<p>“Then there is one fool fewer than I thought there +was,” replied Clara, with the greatest indifference.</p> + +<p>Her brother bit his lip.</p> + +<p>“Clara,” he said, “I believe you are an excellent +good girl, and clever to boot, but pray do not +set up for wit and oddity; there is nothing in life<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_61" id="vol_ii_Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> +so intolerable as pretending to think differently +from other people.—That gentleman was the Earl +of Etherington.”</p> + +<p>This annunciation, though made in what was +meant to be an imposing tone, had no impression on +Clara.</p> + +<p>“I hope he plays the peer better than the Fidalgo,” +she replied, carelessly.</p> + +<p>“Yes,” answered Mowbray, “he is one of the +handsomest men of the time, and decidedly fashionable—you +will like him much when you see him +in private.”</p> + +<p>“It is of little consequence whether I do or no,” +answered Clara.</p> + +<p>“You mistake the matter,” said Mowbray, gravely; +“it may be of considerable consequence.”</p> + +<p>“Indeed!” said Clara, with a smile; “I must +suppose myself, then, too important a person not +to make my approbation necessary to one of your +first-rates? He cannot pretend to pass muster at +St. Ronan's without it?—Well, I will depute my +authority to Lady Binks, and she shall pass your +new recruits instead of me.”</p> + +<p>“This is all nonsense, Clara,” said Mowbray. +“Lord Etherington calls here this very morning, +and wishes to be made known to you. I expect you +will receive him as a particular friend of mine.”</p> + +<p>“With all my heart—so you will engage, after +this visit, to keep him down with your other +particular friends at the Well—you know it is a +bargain that you bring neither buck nor pointer +into my parlour—the one worries my cat, and the +other my temper.”</p> + +<p>“You mistake me entirely, Clara—this is a very +different visitor from any I have ever introduced<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_62" id="vol_ii_Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> +to you—I expect to see him often here, and I hope +you and he will be better friends than you think of. +I have more reasons for wishing this, than I have +now time to tell you.”</p> + +<p>Clara remained silent for an instant, then looked +at her brother with an anxious and scrutinizing +glance, as if she wished to penetrate into his inmost +purpose.</p> + +<p>“If I thought,”—she said, after a minute's consideration, +and with an altered and disturbed tone; +“but no—I will not think that Heaven intends me +such a blow—least of all, that it should come from +your hands.” She walked hastily to the window, +and threw it open—then shut it again, and returned +to her seat, saying, with a constrained smile, “May +Heaven forgive you, brother, but you frightened me +heartily.”</p> + +<p>“I did not mean to do so, Clara,” said Mowbray, +who saw the necessity of soothing her; “I only +alluded in joke to those chances that are never out +of other girls' heads, though you never seem to calculate +on them.”</p> + +<p>“I wish you, my dear John,” said Clara, struggling +to regain entire composure, “I wish <i>you</i> would +profit by my example, and give up the science of +chance also—it will not avail you.”</p> + +<p>“How d'ye know that?—I'll show you the +contrary, you silly wench,” answered Mowbray—“Here +is a banker's bill, payable to your own order, +for the cash you lent me, and something over—don't +let old Mick have the fingering, but let Bindloose +manage it for you—he is the honester man +between two d——d knaves.”</p> + +<p>“Will not you, brother, send it to the man +Bindloose yourself?”<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_63" id="vol_ii_Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span></p> + +<p>“No,—no,” replied Mowbray—“he might confuse +it with some of my transactions, and so you +forfeit your stake.”</p> + +<p>“Well, I am glad you are able to pay me, for I +want to buy Campbell's new work.”</p> + +<p>“I wish you joy of your purchase—but don't +scratch me for not caring about it—I know as little +of books as you of the long odds. And come now, +be serious, and tell me if you will be a good girl—lay +aside your whims, and receive this English young +nobleman like a lady as you are?”</p> + +<p>“That were easy,” said Clara—“but—but—Pray, +ask no more of me than just to see him.—Say +to him at once, I am a poor creature in body, +in mind, in spirits, in temper, in understanding—above +all, say that I can receive him only once.”</p> + +<p>“I shall say no such thing,” said Mowbray, +bluntly; “it is good to be plain with you at once—I +thought of putting off this discussion—but +since it must come, the sooner it is over the better.—You +are to understand, Clara Mowbray, that +Lord Etherington has a particular view in this +visit, and that his view has my full sanction +and approbation.”</p> + +<p>“I thought so,” said Clara, in the same altered +tone of voice in which she had before spoken; “my +mind foreboded this last of misfortunes!—But, +Mowbray, you have no child before you—I neither +will nor can see this nobleman.”</p> + +<p>“How!” exclaimed Mowbray, fiercely; “do you +dare return me so peremptory an answer?—Think +better of it, for, if we differ, you will find you will +have the worst of the game.”</p> + +<p>“Rely upon it,” she continued, with more vehemence, +“I will see him nor no man upon the footing<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_64" id="vol_ii_Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> +you mention—my resolution is taken, and threats +and entreaties will prove equally unavailing.”</p> + +<p>“Upon my word, madam,” said Mowbray, “you +have, for a modest and retired young lady, plucked +up a goodly spirit of your own!—But you shall +find mine equals it. If you do not agree to see my +friend Lord Etherington, ay, and to receive him +with the politeness due to the consideration I entertain +for him, by Heaven! Clara, I will no longer +regard you as my father's daughter. Think what +you are giving up—the affection and protection of +a brother—and for what?—merely for an idle +point of etiquette.—You cannot, I suppose, even +in the workings of your romantic brain, imagine +that the days of Clarissa Harlowe and Harriet +Byron are come back again, when women were +married by main force? and it is monstrous vanity +in you to suppose that Lord Etherington, since he +has honoured you with any thoughts at all, will +not be satisfied with a proper and civil refusal—You +are no such prize, methinks, that the days of +romance are to come back for you.”</p> + +<p>“I care not what days they are,” said Clara—“I +tell you I will not see Lord Etherington, or +any one else, upon such preliminaries as you have +stated—I cannot—I will not—and I ought not.—Had +you meant me to receive him, which can be +a matter of no consequence whatever, you should +have left him on the footing of an ordinary visitor—as +it is, I will not see him.”</p> + +<p>“You <i>shall</i> see and hear him both,” said Mowbray; +“you shall find me as obstinate as you are—as +willing to forget I am a brother, as you to forget +that you have one.”</p> + +<p>“It is time, then,” replied Clara, “that this<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_65" id="vol_ii_Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> +house, once our father's, should no longer hold us +both. I can provide for myself, and may God bless +you!”</p> + +<p>“You take it coolly, madam,” said her brother, +walking through the apartment with much anxiety +both of look and gesture.</p> + +<p>“I do,” she answered, “for it is what I have +often foreseen—Yes, brother, I have often foreseen +that you would make your sister the subject +of your plots and schemes, so soon as other stakes +failed you. That hour is come, and I am, as you +see, prepared to meet it.”</p> + +<p>“And where may you propose to retire to?” said +Mowbray. “I think that I, your only relation and +natural guardian, have a right to know that—my +honour and that of my family is concerned.”</p> + +<p>“Your honour!” she retorted, with a keen glance +at him; “your interest, I suppose you mean, is +somehow connected with the place of my abode.—But +keep yourself patient—the den of the rock, +the linn of the brook, should be my choice, rather +than a palace without my freedom.”</p> + +<p>“You are mistaken, however,” said Mowbray, +sternly, “if you hope to enjoy more freedom than +I think you capable of making a good use of. The +law authorizes, and reason, and even affection, +require, that you should be put under restraint for +your own safety, and that of your character. You +roamed the woods a little too much in my father's +time, if all stories be true.”</p> + +<p>“I did—I did indeed, Mowbray,” said Clara, +weeping; “God pity me, and forgive you for +upbraiding me with my state of mind—I know I +cannot sometimes trust my own judgment; but is +it for you to remind me of this?”<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_66" id="vol_ii_Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mowbray was at once softened and embarrassed.</p> + +<p>“What folly is this?” he said; “you say the +most cutting things to me—are ready to fly from +my house—and when I am provoked to make an +angry answer, you burst into tears!”</p> + +<p>“Say you did not mean what you said, my dearest +brother!” exclaimed Clara; “O say you did +not mean it!—Do not take my liberty from me—it +is all I have left, and, God knows, it is a poor +comfort in the sorrows I undergo. I will put a fair +face on every thing—will go down to the Well—will +wear what you please, and say what you please—but +O! leave me the liberty of my solitude here—let +me weep alone in the house of my father—and +do not force a broken-hearted sister to lay her +death at your door.—My span must be a brief one, +but let not your hand shake the sand-glass!—Disturb +me not—let me pass quietly—I do not ask +this so much for my sake as for your own. I would +have you think of me, sometimes, Mowbray, after +I am gone, and without the bitter reflections which +the recollection of harsh usage will assuredly bring +with it. Pity me, were it but for your own sake.—I +have deserved nothing but compassion at your +hand—There are but two of us on earth, why +should we make each other miserable?”</p> + +<p>She accompanied these entreaties with a flood of +tears, and the most heart-bursting sobs. Mowbray +knew not what to determine. On the one hand, he +was bound by his promise to the Earl; on the other, +his sister was in no condition to receive such a visitor; +nay, it was most probable, that if he adopted +the strong measure of compelling her to receive +him, her behaviour would probably be such as +totally to break off the projected match, on the<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_67" id="vol_ii_Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> +success of which he had founded so many castles in +the air. In this dilemma, he had again recourse to +argument.</p> + +<p>“Clara,” he said, “I am, as I have repeatedly +said, your only relation and guardian—if there be +any real reason why you ought not to receive, and, +at least, make a civil reply to such a negotiation as +the Earl of Etherington has thought fit to open, +surely I ought to be intrusted with it. You enjoyed +far too much of that liberty which you seem to prize +so highly during my father's lifetime—in the last +years of it at least—have you formed any foolish +attachment during that time, which now prevents +you from receiving such a visit as Lord Etherington +has threatened?”</p> + +<p>“Threatened!—the expression is well chosen,” +said Miss Mowbray; “and nothing can be +more dreadful than such a threat, excepting its +accomplishment.”</p> + +<p>“I am glad your spirits are reviving,” replied her +brother; “but that is no answer to my question.”</p> + +<p>“Is it necessary,” said Clara, “that one must +have actually some engagement or entanglement, to +make them unwilling to be given in marriage, or +even to be pestered upon such a subject?—Many +young men declare they intend to die bachelors, +why may not I be permitted to commence old maid +at three-and-twenty?—Let me do so, like a kind +brother, and there were never nephews and nieces +so petted and so scolded, so nursed and so cuffed by +a maiden aunt, as your children, when you have +them, shall be by aunt Clara.”</p> + +<p>“And why not say all this to Lord Etherington?” +said Mowbray; “wait until he propose such a terrible +bugbear as matrimony, before you refuse to<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_68" id="vol_ii_Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> +receive him. Who knows, the whim that he hinted +at may have passed away—he was, as you say, +flirting with Lady Binks, and her ladyship has a +good deal of address, as well as beauty.”</p> + +<p>“Heaven improve both, (in an honest way,) if she +will but keep his lordship to herself!” said Clara.</p> + +<p>“Well, then,” continued her brother, “things +standing thus, I do not think you will have much +trouble with his lordship—no more, perhaps, than +just to give him a civil denial. After having spoken +on such a subject to a man of my condition, he +cannot well break off without you give him an +apology.”</p> + +<p>“If that is all,” said Clara, “he shall, as soon as +he gives me an opportunity, receive such an answer +as will leave him at liberty to woo any one whatsoever +of Eve's daughters, excepting Clara Mowbray. +Methinks I am so eager to set the captive free, +that I now wish as much for his lordship's appearance +as I feared it a little while since.”</p> + +<p>“Nay, nay, but let us go fair and softly,” said +her brother. “You are not to refuse him before he +asks the question.”</p> + +<p>“Certainly,” said Clara; “but I well know how +to manage that—he shall never ask the question at +all. I will restore Lady Binks's admirer, without +accepting so much as a civility in ransom.”</p> + +<p>“Worse and worse, Clara,” answered Mowbray; +“you are to remember he is my friend and guest, +and he must not be affronted in my house. Leave +things to themselves.—Besides, consider an instant, +Clara—had you not better take a little time for +reflection in this case? The offer is a splendid one—title—fortune—and, +what is more, a fortune +which you will be well entitled to share largely in.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_69" id="vol_ii_Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span></p> + +<p>“This is beyond our implied treaty,” said Clara. +“I have yielded more than ever I thought I should +have done, when I agreed that this Earl should be +introduced to me on the footing of a common visitor; +and now you talk favourably of his pretensions. +This is an encroachment, Mowbray, and now I shall +relapse into my obstinacy, and refuse to see him +at all.”</p> + +<p>“Do as you will,” replied Mowbray, sensible that +it was only by working on her affections that he had +any chance of carrying a point against her inclination,—“Do +as you will, my dear Clara; but, for +Heaven's sake, wipe your eyes.”</p> + +<p>“And behave myself,” said she, trying to smile +as she obeyed him,—“behave myself, you would +say, like folks of this world; but the quotation +is lost on you, who never read either Prior or +Shakspeare.”</p> + +<p>“I thank Heaven for that,” said Mowbray. “I +have enough to burden my brain, without carrying +such a lumber of rhymes in it as you and Lady Pen +do.—Come, that is right; go to the mirror, and +make yourself decent.”</p> + +<p>A woman must be much borne down indeed by +pain and suffering, when she loses all respect for +her external appearance. The madwoman in Bedlam +wears her garland of straw with a certain air +of pretension; and we have seen a widow whom we +knew to be most sincerely affected by a recent deprivation, +whose weeds, nevertheless, were arranged +with a dolorous degree of grace, which amounted +almost to coquetry. Clara Mowbray had also, negligent +as she seemed to be of appearances, her own +art of the toilet, although of the most rapid and +most simple character. She took off her little<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_70" id="vol_ii_Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> +riding-hat, and, unbinding a lace of Indian gold +which retained her locks, shook them in dark and +glossy profusion over her very handsome form, which +they overshadowed down to her slender waist; and +while her brother stood looking on her with a mixture +of pride, affection, and compassion, she arranged +them with a large comb, and, without the assistance of +any <i>femme d'atours</i>, wove them, in the course of a +few minutes, into such a natural head-dress as we +see on the statues of the Grecian nymphs.</p> + +<p>“Now let me but find my best muff,” she said, +“come prince and peer, I shall be ready to receive +them.”</p> + +<p>“Pshaw! your muff—who has heard of such a +thing these twenty years? Muffs were out of fashion +before you were born.”</p> + +<p>“No matter, John,” replied his sister; “when a +woman wears a muff, especially a determined old +maid like myself, it is a sign she has no intentions +to scratch; and therefore the muff serves all the +purposes of a white flag, and prevents the necessity of +drawing on a glove, so prudentially recommended +by the motto of our cousins, the M'Intoshes.”<a name="vol_ii_FNanchor_4_4" id="vol_ii_FNanchor_4_4"></a><a href="#vol_ii_Footnote_4_4" class="fnanchor">[4]</a></p> + +<p>“Be it as you will, then,” said Mowbray; “for +other than you do will it, you will not suffer it to +be.—But how is this!—another billet?—We are +in request this morning.”</p> + +<p>“Now, Heaven send his lordship may have judiciously +considered all the risks which he is sure to +encounter on this charmed ground, and resolved +to leave his adventure unattempted,” said Miss +Mowbray.</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_71" id="vol_ii_Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span></p> +<p>Her brother glanced a look of displeasure at her, +as he broke the seal of the letter, which was +addressed to him with the words, “Haste and +secrecy,” written on the envelope. The contents, +which greatly surprised him, we remit to the +commencement of the next chapter.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_72" id="vol_ii_Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span></p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol_ii_CHAPTER_V" id="vol_ii_CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V.</h2> + +<h3>PRIVATE INFORMATION.</h3> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">——Ope this letter;<br /></span> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">I can produce a champion that will prove<br /></span> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">What is avouched there.——<br /></span> +</p> +<p class="citation"> +<i>King Lear.</i><br /> +</p> + + +<p>The billet which Mowbray received, and read in his +sister's presence, contained these words:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>“<span class="smcap">Sir</span>,—Clara Mowbray has few friends—none, perhaps, +excepting yourself, in right of blood, and the +writer of this letter, by right of the fondest, truest, +and most disinterested attachment, that ever man bore +to woman. I am thus explicit with you, because, +though it is unlikely that I should ever again see or +speak to your sister, I am desirous that you should be +clearly acquainted with the cause of that interest, which +I must always, even to my dying breath, take in her +affairs.</p> + +<p>“The person, calling himself Lord Etherington, is, +I am aware, in the neighbourhood of Shaws-Castle, with +the intention of paying his addresses to Miss Mowbray; +and it is easy for me to foresee, arguing according to +the ordinary views of mankind, that he may place his +proposals in such a light as may make them seem +highly desirable. But ere you give this person the +encouragement which his offers may seem to deserve, +please to enquire whether his fortune is certain, or his +rank indisputable; and be not satisfied with light<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_73" id="vol_ii_Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> +evidence on either point. A man may be in possession +of an estate and title, to which he has no better right +than his own rapacity and forwardness of assumption; +and supposing Mr. Mowbray jealous, as he must be, of +the honour of his family, the alliance of such a one +cannot but bring disgrace. This comes from one who +will make good what he has written.”</p></div> + +<p>On the first perusal of a billet so extraordinary, +Mowbray was inclined to set it down to the malice +of some of the people at the Well, anonymous letters +being no uncommon resource of the small wits +who frequent such places of general resort, as a +species of deception safely and easily executed, and +well calculated to produce much mischief and confusion. +But upon closer consideration, he was +shaken in this opinion, and, starting suddenly from +the reverie into which he had fallen, asked for the +messenger who had brought the letter. “He was in +the hall,” the servant thought, and Mowbray ran to +the hall. No—the messenger was not there, but +Mowbray might see his back as he walked up the +avenue.—He hollo'd—no answer was returned—he +ran after the fellow, whose appearance was that +of a countryman. The man quickened his pace as +he saw himself pursued, and when he got out of the +avenue, threw himself into one of the numerous +bypaths which wanderers, who strayed in quest of +nuts, or for the sake of exercise, had made in various +directions through the extensive copse which +surrounded the Castle, and were doubtless the +reason of its acquiring the name of Shaws, which +signifies, in the Scottish dialect, a wood of this +description.</p> + +<p>Irritated by the man's obvious desire to avoid +him, and naturally obstinate in all his resolutions,<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_74" id="vol_ii_Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> +Mowbray pursued for a considerable way, until he +fairly lost breath; and the flier having been long +out of sight, he recollected at length that his +engagement with the Earl of Etherington required +his attendance at the Castle.</p> + +<p>The young lord, indeed, had arrived at Shaws-Castle, +so few minutes after Mowbray's departure, +that it was wonderful they had not met in the avenue. +The servant to whom he applied, conceiving +that his master must return instantly, as he had +gone out without his hat, ushered the Earl, without +farther ceremony, into the breakfast-room, where +Clara was seated upon one of the window-seats, so +busily employed with a book, or perhaps with her +own thoughts while she held a book in her hands, +that she scarce raised her head, until Lord Etherington, +advancing, pronounced the words, “Miss +Mowbray.” A start, and a loud scream, announced +her deadly alarm, and these were repeated as he +made one pace nearer, and in a firmer accent said, +“Clara.”</p> + +<p>“No nearer—no nearer,” she exclaimed, “if you +would have me look upon you and live!” Lord +Etherington remained standing, as if uncertain +whether to advance or retreat, while with incredible +rapidity she poured out her hurried entreaties +that he would begone, sometimes addressing him +as a real personage, sometimes, and more frequently, +as a delusive phantom, the offspring of her +own excited imagination. “I knew it,” she muttered, +“I knew what would happen, if my thoughts +were forced into that fearful channel.—Speak to +me, brother! speak to me while I have reason left, +and tell me that what stands before me is but +an empty shadow! But it is no shadow—it<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_75" id="vol_ii_Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> +remains before me in all the lineaments of mortal +substance!”</p> + +<p>“Clara,” said the Earl, with a firm, yet softened +voice, “collect and compose yourself. I am, indeed, +no shadow—I am a much-injured man, come to +demand rights which have been unjustly withheld +from me. I am now armed with power as well as +justice, and my claims shall be heard.”</p> + +<p>“Never—never!” replied Clara Mowbray; “since +extremity is my portion, let extremity give me +courage.—You have no rights—none—I know +you not, and I defy you.”</p> + +<p>“Defy me not, Clara Mowbray,” answered the +Earl, in a tone, and with a manner how different +from those which delighted society! for now he was +solemn, tragic, and almost stern, like the judge +when he passes sentence upon a criminal. “Defy +me not,” he repeated. “I am your Fate, and it +rests with you to make me a kind or severe one.”</p> + +<p>“Dare you speak thus?” said Clara, her eyes +flashing with anger, while her lips grew white, and +quivered for fear—“Dare you speak thus, and +remember that the same heaven is above our +heads, to which you so solemnly vowed you would +never see me more without my own consent?”</p> + +<p>“That vow was conditional—Francis Tyrrel, as +he calls himself, swore the same—hath <i>he</i> not +seen you?” He fixed a piercing look on her; “He +has—you dare not disown it!—And shall an oath, +which to him is but a cobweb, be to me a shackle +of iron?”</p> + +<p>“Alas! it was but for a moment,” said Miss +Mowbray, sinking in courage, and drooping her head +as she spoke.</p> + +<p>“Were it but the twentieth part of an instant<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_76" id="vol_ii_Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span>—the +least conceivable space of subdivided time—still, +you <i>did</i> meet—he saw you—you spoke to +him. And me also you must see—me also you +must hear! Or I will first claim you for my own +in the face of the world; and, having vindicated my +rights, I will seek out and extinguish the wretched +rival who has dared to interfere with them.”</p> + +<p>“Can you speak thus?” said Clara—“can you so +burst through the ties of nature?—Have you a heart!”</p> + +<p>“I have; and it shall be moulded like wax to your +slightest wishes, if you agree to do me justice; but +not granite, nor aught else that nature has of hardest, +will be more inflexible if you continue an useless +opposition!—Clara Mowbray, I am your Fate.”</p> + +<p>“Not so, proud man,” said Clara, rising, “God +gave not one potsherd the power to break another, +save by his divine permission—my fate is in the +will of Him, without whose will even a sparrow +falls not to the ground.—Begone—I am strong in +faith of heavenly protection.”</p> + +<p>“Do you speak thus in sincerity?” said the Earl +of Etherington; “consider first what is the prospect +before you. I stand here in no doubtful or +ambiguous character—I offer not the mere name +of a husband—propose to you not a humble lot of +obscurity and hardship, with fears for the past +and doubts for the future; yet there <i>was</i> a time +when to a suit like this you could listen favourably.—I +stand high among the nobles of the country, +and offer you, as my bride, your share in my +honours, and in the wealth which becomes them.—Your +brother is my friend, and favours my suit. I +will raise from the ground, and once more render +illustrious, your ancient house—your motions shall +be regulated by your wishes, even by your caprices<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_77" id="vol_ii_Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span>—I +will even carry my self-denial so far, that you +shall, should you insist on so severe a measure, +have your own residence, your own establishment, +and without intrusion on my part, until the most +devoted love, the most unceasing attentions, shall +make way on your inflexible disposition.—All this +I will consent to for the future—all that is past +shall be concealed from the public.—But mine, +Clara Mowbray, you must be.”</p> + +<p>“Never—never!” she said with increasing +vehemence. “I can but repeat a negative, but it +shall have all the force of an oath.—Your rank is +nothing to me—your fortune I scorn—my brother +has no right, by the law of Scotland, or of nature, +to compel my inclinations.—I detest your treachery, +and I scorn the advantage you propose to attain by +it.—Should the law give you my hand, it would +but award you that of a corpse.”</p> + +<p>“Alas! Clara,” said the Earl, “you do but flutter +in the net; but I will urge you no farther, now—there +is another encounter before me.”</p> + +<p>He was turning away, when Clara, springing +forward, caught him by the arm, and repeated, in +a low and impressive voice, the commandment,—“Thou +shalt do no murder!”</p> + +<p>“Fear not any violence,” he said, softening his +voice, and attempting to take her hand, “but what +may flow from your own severity.—Francis is safe +from me, unless you are altogether unreasonable.—Allow +me but what you cannot deny to any friend +of your brother, the power of seeing you at times—suspend +at least the impetuosity of your dislike +to me, and I will, on my part, modify the current of +my just and otherwise uncontrollable resentment.”</p> + +<p>Clara, extricating herself, and retreating from<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_78" id="vol_ii_Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> +him, only replied, “There is a Heaven above us, +and <span class="smcap lowercase">THERE</span> shall be judged our actions towards +each other! You abuse a power most treacherously +obtained—you break a heart that never did +you wrong—you seek an alliance with a wretch +who only wishes to be wedded to her grave.—If +my brother brings you hither, I cannot help it—and +if your coming prevents bloody and unnatural +violence, it is so far well.—But by my consent +you come <i>not</i>; and, were the choice mine, I would +rather be struck with life-long blindness, than that +my eyes should again open on your person—rather +that my ears were stuffed with the earth of the grave, +than that they should again hear your voice!”</p> + +<p>The Earl of Etherington smiled proudly, and +replied, “Even this, madam, I can hear without +resentment. Anxious and careful as you are to +deprive your compliance of every grace and of every +kindness, I receive the permission to wait on you, +as I interpret your words.”</p> + +<p>“Do not so interpret them,” she replied; “I do +but submit to your presence as an unavoidable evil. +Heaven be my witness, that, were it not to prevent +greater and more desperate evil, I would not even +so far acquiesce.”</p> + +<p>“Let acquiescence, then, be the word,” he said; +“and so thankful will I be, even for your acquiescence, +Miss Mowbray, that all shall remain private, +which I conceive you do not wish to be disclosed; +and, unless absolutely compelled to it in self-defence, +you may rely, no violence will be resorted +to by me in any quarter.—I relieve you from my +presence.”</p> + +<p>So saying, he withdrew from the apartment.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_79" id="vol_ii_Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol_ii_CHAPTER_VI" id="vol_ii_CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.</h2> + +<h3>EXPLANATORY.</h3> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">——By your leave, gentle wax.<br /></span> +</p> +<p class="citation"> +<span class="smcap">Shakspeare</span>.<br /> +</p> + + +<p>In the hall of Shaws-Castle the Earl of Etherington +met Mowbray, returned from his fruitless chase +after the bearer of the anonymous epistle before +recited; and who had but just learned, on his return, +that the Earl of Etherington was with his sister. +There was a degree of mutual confusion when they +met; for Mowbray had the contents of the anonymous +letter fresh in his mind, and Lord Etherington, +notwithstanding all the coolness which he had +endeavoured to maintain, had not gone through the +scene with Clara without discomposure. Mowbray +asked the Earl whether he had seen his sister, and +invited him, at the same time, to return to the +parlour; and his lordship replied, in a tone as indifferent +as he could assume, that he had enjoyed the +honour of the lady's company for several minutes, +and would not now intrude farther upon Miss +Mowbray's patience.</p> + +<p>“You have had such a reception as was agreeable, +my lord, I trust?” said Mowbray. “I hope +Clara did the honours of the house with propriety +during my absence?”</p> + +<p>“Miss Mowbray seemed a little fluttered with +my sudden appearance,” said the Earl; “the servant<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_80" id="vol_ii_Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> +showed me in rather abruptly; and, circumstanced +as we were, there is always awkwardness in a first +meeting, where there is no third party to act as +master of the ceremonies.—I suspect, from the +lady's looks, that you have not quite kept my +secret, my good friend. I myself, too, felt a little +consciousness in approaching Miss Mowbray—but +it is over now; and, the ice being fairly +broken, I hope to have other and more convenient +opportunities to improve the advantage I have just +gained in acquiring your lovely sister's personal +acquaintance.”</p> + +<p>“So be it,” said Mowbray; “but, as you declare +for leaving the castle just now, I must first speak +a single word with your lordship, for which this +place is not altogether convenient.”</p> + +<p>“I can have no objections, my dear Jack,” said +Etherington, following him with a thrill of conscious +feeling, somewhat perhaps like that of the +spider when he perceives his deceitful web is threatened +with injury, and sits balanced in the centre, +watching every point, and uncertain which he may +be called upon first to defend. Such is one part, +and not the slightest part, of the penance which +never fails to wait on those, who, abandoning the +“fair play of the world,” endeavour to work out +their purposes by a process of deception and +intrigue.</p> + +<p>“My lord,” said Mowbray, when they had +entered a little apartment, in which the latter kept +his guns, fishing-tackle, and other implements of +sport, “you have played on the square with me; +nay, more—I am bound to allow you have given +me great odds. I am therefore not entitled to hear +any reports to the prejudice of your lordship's<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_81" id="vol_ii_Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> +character, without instantly communicating them. +There is an anonymous letter which I have just +received. Perhaps your lordship may know the +hand, and thus be enabled to detect the writer.”</p> + +<p>“I do know the hand,” said the Earl, as he +received the note from Mowbray; “and, allow me +to say, it is the only one which could have dared to +frame any calumny to my prejudice. I hope, Mr. +Mowbray, it is impossible for you to consider this +infamous charge as any thing but a falsehood?”</p> + +<p>“My placing it in your lordship's hands, without +farther enquiry, is a sufficient proof that I hold it +such, my lord; at the same time that I cannot +doubt for a moment that your lordship has it in +your power to overthrow so frail a calumny by the +most satisfactory evidence.”</p> + +<p>“Unquestionably I can, Mr. Mowbray,” said the +Earl; “for, besides my being in full possession of +the estate and title of my father, the late Earl +of Etherington, I have my father's contract of +marriage, my own certificate of baptism, and the +evidence of the whole country, to establish my +right. All these shall be produced with the least +delay possible. You will not think it surprising +that one does not travel with this sort of documents +in one's post-chaise.”</p> + +<p>“Certainly not, my lord,” said Mowbray; “it +is sufficient they are forthcoming when called for. +But, may I enquire, my lord, who the writer of this +letter is, and whether he has any particular spleen +to gratify by this very impudent assertion, which +is so easily capable of being disproved?”</p> + +<p>“He is,” said Etherington, “or, at least, has +the reputation of being, I am sorry to say, a near—a +very near relation of my own—in fact, a<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_82" id="vol_ii_Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> +brother by the father's side, but illegitimate.—My +father was fond of him—I loved him also, for he +has uncommonly fine parts, and is accounted highly +accomplished. But there is a strain of something +irregular in his mind—a vein, in short, of madness, +which breaks out in the usual manner, rendering +the poor young man a dupe to vain imaginations of +his own dignity and grandeur, which is perhaps the +most ordinary effect of insanity, and inspiring the +deepest aversion against his nearest relatives, and +against myself in particular. He is a man extremely +plausible, both in speech and manners; so much +so, that many of my friends think there is more +vice than insanity in the irregularities which he +commits; but I may, I hope, be forgiven, if I have +formed a milder judgment of one supposed to be +my father's son. Indeed, I cannot help being sorry +for poor Frank, who might have made a very distinguished +figure in the world.”</p> + +<p>“May I ask the gentleman's name, my lord?” +said Mowbray.</p> + +<p>“My father's indulgence gave him our family +name of Tyrrel, with his own Christian name Francis; +but his proper name, to which alone he has a +right, is Martigny.”</p> + +<p>“Francis Tyrrel!” exclaimed Mowbray; “why, +that is the name of the very person who made some +disturbance at the Well just before your lordship +arrived.—You may have seen an advertisement—a +sort of placard.”</p> + +<p>“I have, Mr. Mowbray,” said the Earl. “Spare +me on that subject, if you please—it has formed a +strong reason why I did not mention my connexion +with this unhappy man before; but it is no unusual +thing for persons, whose imaginations are excited,<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_83" id="vol_ii_Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> +to rush into causeless quarrels, and then to make +discreditable retreats from them.”</p> + +<p>“Or,” said Mr. Mowbray, “he may have, after all, +been prevented from reaching the place of rendezvous—it +was that very day on which your lordship, +I think, received your wound; and, if I mistake not, +you hit the man from whom you got the hurt.”</p> + +<p>“Mowbray,” said Lord Etherington, lowering +his voice, and taking him by the arm, “it is true +that I did so—and truly glad I am to observe, +that, whatever might have been the consequences +of such an accident, they cannot have been serious.—It +struck me afterwards, that the man by whom +I was so strangely assaulted, had some resemblance +to the unfortunate Tyrrel—but I had not seen him +for years.—At any rate, he cannot have been much +hurt, since he is now able to resume his intrigues +to the prejudice of my character.”</p> + +<p>“Your lordship views the thing with a firm eye,” +said Mowbray; “firmer than I think most people +would be able to command, who had so narrow a +chance of a scrape so uncomfortable.”</p> + +<p>“Why, I am, in the first place, by no means sure +that the risk existed,” said the Earl of Etherington; +“for, as I have often told you, I had but a very +transient glimpse of the ruffian; and, in the second +place, I <i>am</i> sure that no permanent bad consequences +have ensued. I am too old a fox-hunter +to be afraid of a leap after it is cleared, as they tell +of the fellow who fainted in the morning at the +sight of the precipice he had clambered over when +he was drunk on the night before. The man who +wrote that letter,” touching it with his finger, “is +alive, and able to threaten me; and if he did come +to any hurt from my hand, it was in the act of<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_84" id="vol_ii_Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> +attempting my life, of which I shall carry the mark +to my grave.”</p> + +<p>“Nay, I am far from blaming your lordship,” +said Mowbray, “for what you did in self-defence, +but the circumstance might have turned out very +unpleasant.—May I ask what you intend to do with +this unfortunate gentleman, who is in all probability +in the neighbourhood?”</p> + +<p>“I must first discover the place of his retreat,” +said Lord Etherington, “and then consider what is +to be done both for his safety, poor fellow, and my +own. It is probable, too, that he may find sharpers +to prey upon what fortune he still possesses, +which, I assure you, is sufficient to attract a set of +folk, who may ruin while they humour him.—May +I beg that you, too, will be on the outlook, and let +me know if you hear or see more of him?”</p> + +<p>“I shall, most certainly, my lord,” answered +Mowbray; “but the only one of his haunts which +I know, is the old Cleikum Inn, where he chose to +take up his residence. He has now left it, but perhaps +the old crab-fish of a landlady may know +something of him.”</p> + +<p>“I will not fail to enquire,” said Lord Etherington; +and, with these words, he took a kind farewell +of Mowbray, mounted his horse, and rode up the +avenue.</p> + +<p>“A cool fellow,” said Mowbray, as he looked +after him, “a d—d cool fellow, this brother-in-law +of mine, that is to be—takes a shot at his father's +son with as little remorse as at a blackcock—what +would he do with me, were we to quarrel?—Well, +I can snuff a candle, and strike out the ace of hearts; +and so, should things go wrong, he has no Jack +Raw to deal with, but Jack Mowbray.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_85" id="vol_ii_Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span></p> + +<p>Meanwhile the Earl of Etherington hastened +home to his own apartments at the Hotel; and, not +entirely pleased with the events of the day, commenced +a letter to his correspondent, agent, and +confidant, Captain Jekyl, which we have fortunately +the means of presenting to our readers.—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>“<span class="smcap">Friend Harry</span>,—They say a falling house is best +known by the rats leaving it—a falling state, by the +desertion of confederates and allies—and a falling +man, by the desertion of his friends. If this be true +augury; your last letter may be considered as ominous +of my breaking down. Methinks, you have gone far +enough, and shared deep enough with me, to have some +confidence in my <i>savoir faire</i>—some little faith both +in my means and management. What crossgrained +fiend has at once inspired you with what I suppose you +wish me to call politic doubts and scruples of conscience, +but which I can only regard as symptoms of fear and +disaffection? You can have no idea of ‘duels betwixt +relations so nearly connected’—and ‘the affair seems +very delicate and intricate’—and again, ‘the matter +has never been fully explained to you’—and, moreover, +‘if you are expected to take an active part in the +business, it must be when you are honoured with my +full and unreserved confidence, otherwise how could you +be of the use to me which I might require?’ Such are +your expressions.</p> + +<p>“Now, as to scruples of conscience about near +relations, and so forth, all that has blown by without +much mischief, and certainly is not likely to occur +again—besides, did you never hear of friends quarrelling +before? And are they not to exercise the usual +privileges of gentlemen when they do? Moreover, how +am I to know that this plaguy fellow <i>is</i> actually +related to me?—They say it is a wise child knows its +own father; and I cannot be expected wise enough to<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_86" id="vol_ii_Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> +know to a certainty my father's son.—So much for +relationship.—Then, as to full and unreserved confidence—why, +Harry, this is just as if I were to ask +you to look at a watch, and tell what it was o'clock, and +you were to reply, that truly you could not inform me, +because you had not examined the springs, the counter-balances, +the wheels, and the whole internal machinery +of the little timepiece.—But the upshot of the whole is +this. Harry Jekyl, who is as sharp a fellow as any +other, thinks he has his friend Lord Etherington at a +dead lock, and that he knows already so much of the +said noble lord's history as to oblige his lordship to tell +him the whole. And perhaps he not unreasonably concludes, +that the custody of a whole secret is more +creditable, and probably more lucrative, than that of a +half one; and, in short,—he is resolved to make the +most of the cards in his hand. Another, mine honest +Harry, would take the trouble to recall to your mind +past times and circumstances, and conclude with +expressing a humble opinion, that if Harry Jekyl were +asked <i>now</i> to do any service for the noble lord aforesaid, +Harry had got his reward in his pocket aforehand. But +I do not argue thus, because I would rather be leagued +with a friend who assists me with a view to future profit, +than from respect to benefits already received. The +first lies like the fox's scent when on his last legs, +increasing every moment; the other is a back-scent, +growing colder the longer you follow it, until at last it +becomes impossible to puzzle it out. I will, therefore, +submit to circumstances, and tell you the whole story, +though somewhat tedious, in hopes that I can conclude +with such a trail as you will open upon breast-high.</p> + +<p>“Thus then it was.—Francis, fifth Earl of Etherington, +and my much-honoured father, was what is +called a very eccentric man—that is, he was neither a +wise man nor a fool—had too much sense to walk into +a well, and yet in some of the furious fits which he was +visited with, I have seen him quite mad enough to<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_87" id="vol_ii_Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> +throw any one else into it.—Men said there was a +lurking insanity—but it is an ill bird, &c., and I will +say no more about it. This shatterbrained peer was, in +other respects, a handsome accomplished man, with an +expression somewhat haughty, yet singularly pleasing +when he chose it—a man, in short, who might push +his fortune with the fair sex.</p> + +<p>“Lord Etherington, such as I have described him, +being upon his travels in France, formed an attachment +of the heart—ay, and some have pretended, of the +hand also, with a certain beautiful orphan, Marie de +Martigny. Of this union is said to have sprung (for I +am determined not to be certain on that point) that most +incommodious person, Francis Tyrrel, as he calls himself, +but as I would rather call him, Francis Martigny; +the latter suiting my views, as perhaps the former +name agrees better with his pretensions. Now, I am +too good a son to subscribe to the alleged regularity of +the marriage between my right honourable and very +good lord father, because my said right honourable and +very good lord did, on his return to England, become +wedded, in the face of the church, to my very affectionate +and well-endowed mother, Ann Bulmer of Bulmer-hall, +from which happy union sprung I, Francis +Valentine Bulmer Tyrrel, lawful inheritor of my father +and mother's joint estates, as I was the proud possessor of +their ancient names. But the noble and wealthy pair, +though blessed with such a pledge of love as myself, +lived mighty ill together, and the rather, when my +right honourable father, sending for this other Sosia, +this unlucky Francis Tyrrel, senior, from France, +insisted, in the face of propriety, that he should reside +in his house, and share, in all respects, in the opportunities +of education by which the real Sosia, Francis +Valentine Bulmer Tyrrel, then commonly called Lord +Oakendale, hath profited in such an uncommon +degree.</p> + +<p>“Various were the matrimonial quarrels which arose<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_88" id="vol_ii_Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> +between the honoured lord and lady, in consequence +of this unseemly conjunction of the legitimate and +illegitimate; and to these, we, the subjects of the +dispute, were sometimes very properly, as well as +decorously, made the witnesses. On one occasion, +my right honourable mother, who was a free-spoken +lady, found the language of her own rank quite +inadequate to express the strength of her generous feelings, +and borrowing from the vulgar two emphatic +words, applied them to Marie de Martigny, and her son +Francis Tyrrel. Never did Earl that ever wore coronet +fly into a pitch of more uncontrollable rage, than did +my right honourable father: and in the ardour of his +reply, he adopted my mother's phraseology, to inform +her, that if there <i>was</i> a whore and bastard connected +with his house, it was herself and her brat.</p> + +<p>“I was even then a sharp little fellow, and was +incredibly struck with the communication, which, in +this hour of ungovernable irritation, had escaped my +right honourable father. It is true, he instantly gathered +himself up again; and, he perhaps recollecting +such a word as <i>bigamy</i>, and my mother, on her side, +considering the consequences of such a thing as a +descent from the Countess of Etherington into Mrs. +Bulmer, neither wife, maid, nor widow, there was an +apparent reconciliation between them, which lasted +for some time. But the speech remained deeply imprinted +on my remembrance; the more so, that once, +when I was exerting over my friend Francis Tyrrel, +the authority of a legitimate brother, and Lord Oakendale, +old Cecil, my father's confidential valet, was so +much scandalized, as to intimate a possibility that we +might one day change conditions. These two accidental +communications seemed to me a key to certain long +lectures, with which my father used to regale us boys, +but me in particular, upon the extreme mutability +of human affairs,—the disappointment of the best-grounded +hopes and expectations,—and the necessity<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_89" id="vol_ii_Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> +of being so accomplished in all useful branches of +knowledge, as might, in case of accidents, supply any +defalcation in our rank and fortune;—as if any art or +science could make amends for the loss of an Earldom, +and twelve thousand a-year! All this prosing seemed +to my anxious mind designed to prepare me for some +unfortunate change; and when I was old enough to +make such private enquiries as lay in my power, I +became still more persuaded that my right honourable +father nourished some thoughts of making an honest +woman of Marie de Martigny, and a legitimate elder +brother of Francis, after his death at least, if not during +his life. I was the more convinced of this, when a +little affair, which I chanced to have with the daughter +of my Tu——, drew down my father's wrath upon me +in great abundance, and occasioned my being banished +to Scotland, along with my brother, under a very poor +allowance, without introductions, except to one steady, +or call it rusty, old Professor, and with the charge +that I should not assume the title of Lord Oakendale, +but content myself with my maternal grandfather's +name of Valentine Bulmer, that of Francis Tyrrel +being pre-occupied.</p> + +<p>“Upon this occasion, notwithstanding the fear +which I entertained of my father's passionate temper, +I did venture to say, that since I was to resign my +title, I thought I had a right to keep my family name, +and that my brother might take his mother's. I +wish you had seen the look of rage with which my +father regarded me when I gave him this spirited hint. +‘Thou art,’ he said, and paused, as if to find out the +bitterest epithet to supply the blank—‘thou art thy +mother's child, and her perfect picture’—(this seemed +the severest reproach that occurred to him.)—‘Bear +her name then, and bear it with patience and in secrecy; +or, I here give you my word, you shall never bear +another the whole days of your life.’ This sealed my +mouth with a witness; and then, in allusion to my<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_90" id="vol_ii_Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> +flirtation with the daughter of my Tu—— aforesaid, he +enlarged on the folly and iniquity of private marriages, +warned me that in the country I was going to, the +matrimonial noose often lies hid under flowers, and that +folks find it twitched round their neck when they least +expect such a cravat; assured me, that he had very +particular views for settling Francis and me in life, and +that he would forgive neither of us who should, by any +such rash entanglements, render them unavailing.</p> + +<p>“This last minatory admonition was the more tolerable, +that my rival had his share of it; and so we were +bundled off to Scotland, coupled up like two pointers +in a dog-cart, and—I can speak for one at least—with +much the same uncordial feelings towards each other. +I often, indeed, detected Francis looking at me with a +singular expression, as of pity and anxiety, and once +or twice he seemed disposed to enter on something +respecting the situation in which we stood towards each +other; but I felt no desire to encourage his confidence. +Meantime, as we were called, by our father's directions, +not brothers, but cousins, so we came to bear +towards each other the habits of companionship, though +scarcely of friendship. What Francis thought, I know +not; for my part, I must confess, that I lay by on +the watch for some opportunity when I might mend +my own situation with my father, though at the prejudice +of my rival. And Fortune, while she seemed to +prevent such an opportunity, involved us both in one +of the strangest and most entangled mazes that her +capricious divinityship ever wove, and out of which I +am even now struggling, by sleight or force, to extricate +myself. I can hardly help wondering, even yet, +at the odd conjunction, which has produced such an +intricacy of complicated incidents.</p> + +<p>“My father was a great sportsman, and Francis and +I had both inherited his taste for field-sports; but I in +a keener and more ecstatic degree. Edinburgh, which +is a tolerable residence in winter and spring, becomes<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_91" id="vol_ii_Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> +disagreeable in summer, and in autumn is the most +melancholy <i>sejour</i> that ever poor mortals were condemned +to. No public places are open, no inhabitant +of any consideration remains in the town; those who +cannot get away, hide themselves in obscure corners, as +if ashamed to be seen in the streets. The gentry go +to their country-houses—the citizens to their sea-bathing +quarters—the lawyers to their circuits—the +writers to visit their country clients—and all the +world to the moors to shoot grouse. We, who felt the +indignity of remaining in town during this deserted +season, obtained, with some difficulty, permission from +the Earl to betake ourselves to any obscure corner, and +shoot grouse, if we could get leave to do so on our +general character of English students at the University +of Edinburgh, without quoting any thing more.</p> + +<p>“The first year of our banishment we went to the +neighbourhood of the Highlands; but finding our sport +interrupted by gamekeepers and their gillies, on the +second occasion we established ourselves at this little +village of St. Ronan's, where there were then no Spa, +no fine people, no card tables, no quizzes, excepting the +old quiz of a landlady with whom we lodged. We found +the place much to our mind; the old landlady had +interest with some old fellow, agent of a non-residing +nobleman, who gave us permission to sport over his +moors, of which I availed myself keenly, and Francis +with more moderation. He was, indeed, of a grave +musing sort of habit, and often preferred solitary walks, +in the wild and beautiful scenery with which the village +is surrounded, to the use of the gun. He was attached +to fishing, moreover, that dullest of human amusements, +and this also tended to keep us considerably apart. +This gave me rather pleasure than concern;—not that +I hated Francis at that time; nay, not that I greatly +disliked his society; but merely because it was unpleasant +to be always with one, whose fortunes I looked upon +as standing in direct opposition to my own. I also<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_92" id="vol_ii_Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> +rather despised the indifference about sport, which +indeed seemed to grow upon him; but my gentleman +had better taste than I was aware of. If he sought no +grouse on the hill, he had flushed a pheasant in the +wood.</p> + +<p>“Clara Mowbray, daughter of the Lord of the more +picturesque than wealthy domain of St. Ronan's, was +at that time scarce sixteen years old, and as wild and +beautiful a woodland nymph as the imagination can +fancy—simple as a child in all that concerned the +world and its ways, acute as a needle in every point +of knowledge which she had found an opportunity of +becoming acquainted with; fearing harm from no one, +and with, a lively and natural strain of wit, which +brought amusement and gaiety wherever she came. +Her motions were under no restraint, save that of her +own inclination; for her father, though a cross, peevish, +old man, was confined to his chair with the gout, +and her only companion, a girl of somewhat inferior +caste, bred up in the utmost deference to Miss Mowbray's +fancies, served for company indeed in her strolls +through the wild country on foot and on horseback, +but never thought of interfering with her will and +pleasure.</p> + +<p>“The extreme loneliness of the country, (at that +time,) and the simplicity of its inhabitants, seemed +to render these excursions perfectly safe. Francis, +happy dog, became the companion of the damsels on +such occasions through the following accident. Miss +Mowbray had dressed herself and her companion like +country wenches, with a view to surprise the family of +one of their better sort of farmers. They had accomplished +their purpose greatly to their satisfaction, and +were hying home after sunset, when they were encountered +by a country fellow—a sort of Harry Jekyl in +his way—who, being equipped with a glass or two of +whisky, saw not the nobility of blood through her disguise, +and accosted the daughter of a hundred sires as<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_93" id="vol_ii_Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> +he would have done a ewe-milker. Miss Mowbray +remonstrated—her companion screamed—up came +cousin Francis with a fowlingpiece on his shoulder, +and soon put the sylvan to flight.</p> + +<p>“This was the beginning of an acquaintance, which +had gone great lengths before I found it out. The fair +Clara, it seems, found it safer to roam in the woods with +an escort than alone, and my studious and sentimental +relative was almost her constant companion. At their +age, it was likely that some time might pass ere they +came to understand each other; but full confidence and +intimacy was established between them ere I heard of +their amour.</p> + +<p>“And here, Harry, I must pause till next morning, +and send you the conclusion under a separate cover. +The rap which I had over the elbow the other day, is +still tingling at the end of my fingers, and you must +not be critical with my manuscript.”</p></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_94" id="vol_ii_Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol_ii_CHAPTER_VII" id="vol_ii_CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII.</h2> + +<h3>LETTER CONTINUED.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">————Must I then ravel out<br /></span> +<span class="i0">My weaved-up follies?————<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="citation"> +<span class="smcap">Shakspeare</span>.<br /> +</p> + + +<div class="blockquot"><p>“I resume my pen, Harry, to mention, without +attempting to describe my surprise, that Francis, +compelled by circumstances, made me the confidant +of his love-intrigue. My grave cousin in love, and +very much in the mind of approaching the perilous +verge of clandestine marriage—he who used every +now and then, not much to the improvement of our +cordial regard, to lecture me upon filial duty, just +upon the point of slipping the bridle himself! I +could not for my life tell whether surprise, or a feeling +of mischievous satisfaction, was predominant. I +tried to talk to him as he used to talk to me; but +I had not the gift of persuasion, or he the power of +understanding the words of wisdom. He insisted our +situation was different—that his unhappy birth, as +he termed it, freed him at least from dependence on +his father's absolute will—that he had, by bequest +from some relative of his mother, a moderate competence, +which Miss Mowbray had consented to share +with him; in fine, that he desired not my counsel but +my assistance. A moment's consideration convinced +me, that I should be unkind, not to him only, but to +myself, unless I gave him all the backing I could in +this his most dutiful scheme. I recollected our right<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_95" id="vol_ii_Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> +honourable father's denunciations against Scottish +marriages, and secret marriages of all sorts,—denunciations +perhaps not the less vehement, that he might +feel some secret prick of conscience on the subject himself. +I remembered that my grave brother had always +been a favourite, and I forgot not—how was it possible +I could forget—those ominous expressions, which intimated +a possibility of the hereditary estate and honours +being transferred to the elder, instead of the younger +son. Now, it required no conjurer to foresee, that +should Francis commit this inexpiable crime of +secretly allying himself with a Scottish beauty, our sire +would lose all wish to accomplish such a transference +in his favour; and while my brother's merits were +altogether obscured by such an unpardonable act of +disobedience, my own, no longer overshadowed by prejudice +or partiality, would shine forth in all their +natural brilliancy. These considerations, which flashed +on me with the rapidity of lightning, induced me to +consent to hold Frank's back-hand, during the perilous +game he proposed to play. I had only to take care that +my own share in the matter should not be so prominent +as to attract my father's attention; and this I was little +afraid of, for his wrath was usually of that vehement and +forcible character, which, like lightning, is attracted to +one single point, there bursting with violence as undivided +as it was uncontrollable.</p> + +<p>“I soon found the lovers needed my assistance more +than I could have supposed; for they were absolute +novices in any sort of intrigue, which to me seemed as +easy and natural as lying. Francis had been detected +by some tattling spy in his walks with Clara, and the +news had been carried to old Mowbray, who was greatly +incensed at his daughter, though little knowing that +her crime was greater than admitting an unknown +English student to form a personal acquaintance with +her. He prohibited farther intercourse—resolved, in +justice-of-peace phrase, to rid the country of us; and,<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_96" id="vol_ii_Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> +prudently sinking all mention of his daughter's delinquency, +commenced an action against Francis, under +pretext of punishing him as an encroacher upon his +game, but in reality to scare him from the neighbourhood. +His person was particularly described to all +the keepers and satellites about Shaws-Castle, and any +personal intercourse betwixt him and Clara became +impossible, except under the most desperate risks. +Nay, such was their alarm, that Master Francis thought +it prudent, for Miss Mowbray's sake, to withdraw as +far as a town called Marchthorn, and there to conceal +himself, maintaining his intercourse with Clara only +by letter.</p> + +<p>“It was then I became the sheet-anchor of the hope +of the lovers; it was then my early dexterity and +powers of contrivance were first put to the test; and it +would be too long to tell you in how many shapes, and +by how many contrivances, I acted as agent, letter-carrier, +and go-between, to maintain the intercourse of +these separated turtles. I have had a good deal of +trouble in that way on my own account, but never half +so much as I took on account of this brace of lovers. +I scaled walls and swam rivers, set bloodhounds, +quarterstaves, and blunderbusses at defiance; and, +excepting the distant prospect of self-interest which +I have hinted at, I was neither to have honour nor +reward for my pains. I will own to you, that Clara +Mowbray was so very beautiful—so absolutely confiding +in her lover's friend—and thrown into such close +intercourse with me, that there were times when I +thought that, in conscience, she ought not to have +scrupled to have contributed a mite to reward the faithful +labourer. But then, she looked like purity itself; +and I was such a novice at that time of day, that I did +not know how it might have been possible for me to +retreat, if I had made too bold an advance—and, in +short, I thought it best to content myself with assisting +true love to run smooth, in the hope that its course<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_97" id="vol_ii_Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> +would assure me, in the long-run, an Earl's title, and +an Earl's fortune.</p> + +<p>“Nothing was, therefore, ventured on my part which +could raise suspicion, and, as the confidential friend of +the lovers, I prepared every thing for their secret marriage. +The pastor of the parish agreed to perform the +ceremony, prevailed upon by an argument which I used +to him, and which Clara, had she guessed it, would +have little thanked me for. I led the honest man to +believe, that, in declining to do his office, he might +prevent a too successful lover from doing justice to a +betrayed maiden; and the parson, who, I found, had a +spice of romance in his disposition, resolved, under +such pressing circumstances, to do them the kind office +of binding them together, although the consequence +might be a charge of irregularity against himself. +Old Mowbray was much confined to his room, his +daughter less watched since Frank had removed from +the neighbourhood—the brother (which, by the by, I +should have said before) not then in the country—and +it was settled that the lovers should meet at the Old +Kirk of Saint Ronan's when the twilight became deep, +and go off in a chaise for England so soon as the ceremony +was performed.</p> + +<p>“When all this was arranged save the actual +appointment of the day, you cannot conceive the happiness +and the gratitude of my sage brother. He +looked upon himself as approaching to the seventh +heaven, instead of losing his chance of a good fortune, +and encumbering himself at nineteen with a wife, and +all the probabilities of narrow circumstances, and an +increasing family. Though so much younger myself, +I could not help wondering at his extreme want of +knowledge of the world, and feeling ashamed that I +had ever allowed him to take the airs of a tutor with +me; and this conscious superiority supported me +against the thrill of jealousy which always seized me +when I thought of his carrying off the beautiful prize,<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_98" id="vol_ii_Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> +which, without my address, he could never have made +his own.—But at this important crisis, I had a letter +from my father, which, by some accident, had long lain +at our lodgings in Edinburgh; and then visited our +former quarters in the Highlands; again returned to +Edinburgh, and at length reached me at Marchthorn +in a most critical time.</p> + +<p>“It was in reply to a letter of mine, in which, +among other matters, such as good boys send to their +papas, descriptions of the country, accounts of studies, +exercises, and so forth, I had, to fill up the sheet to a +dutiful length, thrown in something about the family +of St. Ronan's, in the neighbourhood of which I was +writing. I had no idea what an effect the name would +produce on the mind of my right honourable father, but +his letter sufficiently expressed it. He charged me to +cultivate the acquaintance of Mr. Mowbray as fast and +as intimately as possible; and, if need were, to inform +him candidly of our real character and situation in life. +Wisely considering, at the same time, that his filial +admonition might be neglected if not backed by some +sufficient motive, his lordship frankly let me into the +secret of my granduncle by the mother's side, Mr. S. +Mowbray of Nettlewood's last will and testament, by +which I saw, to my astonishment and alarm, that a +large and fair estate was bequeathed to the eldest son +and heir of the Earl of Etherington, on condition of his +forming a matrimonial alliance with a lady of the house +of Mowbray, of St. Ronan's.—Mercy of Heaven! how +I stared! Here had I been making every preparation +for wedding Francis to the very girl, whose hand would +insure to myself wealth and independence!—And even +the first loss, though great, was not likely to be the last. +My father spoke of the marriage like a land-surveyor, +but of the estate of Nettlewood like an impassioned +lover. He seemed to dote on every acre of it, and +dwelt on its contiguity to his own domains as a circumstance +which rendered the union of the estates not<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_99" id="vol_ii_Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> +desirable merely, but constituted an arrangement, +pointed out by the hand of nature. And although he +observed, that, on account of the youth of the parties, +treaty of marriage could not be immediately undertaken, +it was yet clear he would approve at heart of any +bold stroke which would abolish the interval of time +that might otherwise intervene, ere Oakendale and +Nettlewood became one property.</p> + +<p>“Here, then, were shipwrecked my fair hopes. It +was clear as sunshine, that a private marriage, unpardonable +in the abstract, would become venial, nay, +highly laudable, in my father's eyes, if it united his +heir with Clara Mowbray; and if he really had, as my +fears suggested, the means of establishing legitimacy +on my brother's part, nothing was so likely to tempt +him to use them, as the certainty that, by his doing so, +Nettlewood and Oakendale would be united into one. +The very catastrophe which I had prepared, as sure to +exclude my rival from his father's favour, was thus +likely, unless it could be prevented, to become a strong +motive and argument for the Earl placing his rights +above mine.</p> + +<p>“I shut myself up in my bedroom; locked the door; +read, and again read my father's letter; and, instead of +giving way to idle passion, (beware of that, Harry, even +in the most desperate circumstances,) I considered, with +keen investigation, whether some remedy could not yet +be found.—To break off the match for the time, would +have been easy—a little private information to Mr. +Mowbray would have done that with a vengeance—But +then the treaty might be renewed under my father's +auspices;—at all events, the share which I had taken +in the intrigue between Clara and my brother, rendered +it almost impossible for me to become a suitor in my own +person.—Amid these perplexities, it suddenly occurred +to my adventurous heart and contriving brain—what +if I should personate the bridegroom?—This strange +thought, you will recollect, occurred to a very youthful<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_100" id="vol_ii_Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> +brain—it was banished—it returned—returned again +and again—was viewed under every different shape—became +familiar—was adopted.—It was easy to +fix the appointment with Clara and the clergyman +for I managed the whole correspondence—the resemblance +between Francis and me in stature and in +proportion—the disguise which we were to assume—the +darkness of the church—the hurry of the +moment—might, I trusted, prevent Clara from recognising +me. To the minister I had only to say, that +though I had hitherto talked of a friend, I myself was +the happy man. My first name was Francis as well as +his; and I had found Clara so gentle, so confiding, so +flatteringly cordial in her intercourse with me, that, +once within my power, and prevented from receding by +shame, and a thousand contradictory feelings, I had, +with the vanity of an <i>amoureux de seize ans</i>, the +confidence to believe I could reconcile the fair lady to +the exchange.</p> + +<p>“There certainly never came such a thought into a +madcap's brain; and, what is more extraordinary—but +that you already know—it was so far successful, that +the marriage ceremony was performed between us in the +presence of a servant of mine, Clara's accommodating +companion, and the priest.—We got into the carriage, +and were a mile from the church, when my unlucky or +lucky brother stopped the chaise by force—through what +means he had obtained knowledge of my little trick, I +never have been able to learn. Solmes has been faithful +to me in too many instances, that I should suspect him +in this important crisis. I jumped out of the carriage, +pitched fraternity to the devil, and, betwixt desperation +and something very like shame, began to cut away with +a couteau de chasse, which I had provided in case of +necessity.—All was in vain—I was hustled down +under the wheel of the carriage, and, the horses taking +fright, it went over my body.</p> + +<p>“Here ends my narrative; for I neither heard not<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_101" id="vol_ii_Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> +saw more until I found myself stretched on a sick-bed +many miles from the scene of action, and Solmes +engaged in attending on me. In answer to my passionate +enquiries, he briefly informed me, that Master +Francis had sent back the young lady to her own dwelling, +and that she appeared to be extremely ill in +consequence of the alarm she had sustained. My own +health, he assured me, was considered as very precarious, +and added, that Tyrrel, who was in the same +house, was in the utmost perturbation on my account. +The very mention of his name brought on a crisis in +which I brought up much blood; and it is singular that +the physician who attended me—a grave gentleman, +with a wig—considered that this was of service to me. +I know it frightened me heartily, and prepared me for +a visit from Master Frank, which I endured with a +tameness he would not have experienced, had the usual +current of blood flowed in my veins. But sickness and +the lancet make one very tolerant of sermonizing.—At +last, in consideration of being relieved from his accursed +presence, and the sound of his infernally calm voice, I +slowly and reluctantly acquiesced in an arrangement, +by which he proposed that we should for ever bid adieu +to each other, and to Clara Mowbray. I would have +hesitated at this last stipulation. ‘She was,’ I said, +‘my wife, and I was entitled to claim her as such.’</p> + +<p>“This drew down a shower of most moral reproaches, +and an assurance that Clara disowned and detested my +alliance; and that where there had been an essential +error in the person, the mere ceremony could never +be accounted binding by the law of any Christian +country. I wonder this had not occurred to me; but +my ideas of marriage were much founded on plays +and novels, where such devices as I had practised are +often resorted to for winding up the plot, without +any hint of their illegality; besides, I had confided, +as I mentioned before, a little too rashly perhaps, in +my own powers of persuading so young a bride as<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_102" id="vol_ii_Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> +Clara to be contented with one handsome fellow instead +of another.</p> + +<p>“Solmes took up the argument, when Francis +released me by leaving the room. He spoke of my +father's resentment, should this enterprise reach his +ears—of the revenge of Mowbray of St. Ronan's, +whose nature was both haughty and rugged—of risk +from the laws of the country, and God knows what +bugbears besides, which, at a more advanced age, I +would have laughed at. In a word, I sealed the capitulation, +vowed perpetual absence, and banished myself, +as they say in this country, forth of Scotland.</p> + +<p>“And here, Harry, observe and respect my genius. +Every circumstance was against me in this negotiation. +I had been the aggressor in the war; I was wounded, +and, it might be said, a prisoner in my antagonist's +hands; yet I could so far avail myself of Monsieur +Martigny's greater eagerness for peace, that I clogged +the treaty with a condition highly advantageous to +myself, and equally unfavourable to him.—Said Mr. +Francis Martigny was to take upon himself the burden +of my right honourable father's displeasure; and our +separation, which was certain to give immense offence, +was to be represented as his work, not as mine. I +insisted, tender-hearted, dutiful soul, as I was, that +I would consent to no measure which was to bring +down papa's displeasure. This was a <i>sine qua non</i> in +our negotiation.</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">‘Voila ce que c'est d'avoir des talens!’<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>“Monsieur Francis would, I suppose, have taken +the world on his shoulders, to have placed an eternal +separation betwixt his turtledove and the falcon who +had made so bold a pounce at her.—What he wrote +to my father, I know not; as for myself, in all duty, +I represented the bad state of my health from an accident, +and that my brother and companion having been<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_103" id="vol_ii_Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> +suddenly called from me by some cause which he had +not explained, I had thought it necessary to get to +London for the best advice, and only waited his lordship's +permission to return to the paternal mansion. +This I soon received, and found, as I expected, that he +was in towering wrath against my brother for his +disobedience; and, after some time, I even had reason +to think, (as how could it be otherwise, Harry?) that, +on becoming better acquainted with the merits and +amiable manners of his apparent heir, he lost any desire +which he might formerly have entertained, of accomplishing +any change in my circumstances in relation +to the world. Perhaps the old peer turned a little +ashamed of his own conduct, and dared not aver to the +congregation of the righteous, (for he became saintly +in his latter days,) the very pretty frolics which he +seems to have been guilty of in his youth. Perhaps, +also, the death of my right honourable mother operated +in my favour, since, while she lived, my chance was +the worse—there is no saying what a man will do to +spite his wife.—Enough, he died—slept with his +right honourable fathers, and I became, without opposition, +Right Honourable in his stead.</p> + +<p>“How I have borne my new honours, thou, Harry, +and our merry set, know full well. Newmarket and +Tattersal's may tell the rest. I think I have been +as lucky as most men where luck is most prized, and +so I shall say no more on that subject.</p> + +<p>“And now, Harry, I will suppose thee in a moralizing +mood; that is, I will fancy the dice have run +wrong—or your double-barrel has hung fire—or a +certain lady has looked cross—or any such weighty +cause of gravity has occurred, and you give me the +benefit of your seriousness.—‘My dear Etherington,’ +say you pithily, ‘you are a precious fool!—Here you +are, stirring up a business rather scandalous in itself, +and fraught with mischief to all concerned—a business +which might sleep for ever, if you let it alone,<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_104" id="vol_ii_Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> +but which is sure, like a sea-coal fire, to burst into a +flame if you go on poking it. I would like to ask your +lordship only two questions,’—say you, with your +usual graceful attitude of adjusting your perpendicular +shirt-collar, and passing your hand over the knot of +your cravat, which deserves a peculiar place in the <i>Tietania</i><a name="vol_ii_FNanchor_A_13" id="vol_ii_FNanchor_A_13"></a><a href="#vol_ii_Footnote_A_13" class="fnanchor">[A]</a><a name="vol_ii_FNanchor_5_5" id="vol_ii_FNanchor_5_5"></a><a href="#vol_ii_Footnote_5_5" class="fnanchor">[5]</a>—‘only +two questions—that is, Whether +you do not repent the past, and whether you do not +fear the future?’ Very comprehensive queries, these +of yours, Harry; for they respect both the time past +and the time to come—one's whole life, in short. +However, I shall endeavour to answer them as well +as I may.</p> + +<p>“Repent the past, said you?—Yes, Harry, I think +I do repent the past—that is, not quite in the parson's +style of repentance, which resembles yours when +you have a headache, but as I would repent a hand at +cards which I had played on false principles. I should +have begun with the young lady—availed myself in a +very different manner of Monsieur Martigny's absence, +and my own intimacy with her, and thus superseded +him, if possible, in the damsel's affections. The +scheme I adopted, though there was, I think, both +boldness and dexterity in it, was that of a novice of +premature genius, who could not calculate chances. So +much for repentance.—Do I not fear the future?—Harry, +I will not cut your throat for supposing you +to have put the question, but calmly assure you, that +I never feared any thing in my life. I was born without +the sensation, I believe; at least, it is perfectly +unknown to me. When I felt that cursed wheel pass +across my breast, when I felt the pistol-ball benumb +my arm, I felt no more agitation than at the bounce +of a champagne-cork. But I would not have you think<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_105" id="vol_ii_Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> +that I am fool enough to risk plague, trouble, and +danger, all of which, besides considerable expense, +I am now prepared to encounter, without some adequate +motive,—and here it is.</p> + +<p>“From various quarters, hints, rumours, and surmises +have reached me, that an attack will be made on +my rank and status in society, which can only be in +behalf of this fellow Martigny, (for I will not call him +by his stolen name of Tyrrel.) Now, this I hold to be +a breach of the paction betwixt us, by which—that is, +by that which I am determined to esteem its true meaning +and purport—he was to leave my right honourable +father and me to settle our own matters without his +interference, which amounted to a virtual resignation +of his rights, if the scoundrel ever had any. Can he +expect I am to resign my wife, and what is a better +thing, old Scrogie Mowbray's estate of Nettlewood, to +gratify the humour of a fellow who sets up claims to +my title and whole property? No, by ——! If he +assails me in a point so important, I will retaliate +upon him in one where he will feel as keenly; and that +he may depend upon.—And now, methinks, you come +upon me with a second edition of your grave remonstrances, +about family feuds, unnatural rencontres, +offence to all the feelings of all the world, et cetera, +et cetera, which you might usher in most delectably +with the old stave about brethren dwelling together in +unity. I will not stop to enquire, whether all these +delicate apprehensions are on account of the Earl of +Etherington, his safety, and his reputation; or whether +my friend Harry Jekyl be not considering how far his +own interference with such a naughty business will be +well taken at Head-quarters; and so, without pausing +on that question, I shall barely and briefly say, that +you cannot be more sensible than I am of the madness +of bringing matters to such an extremity—I have no +such intention, I assure you, and it is with no such +purpose that I invite you here.—Were I to challenge<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_106" id="vol_ii_Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> +Martigny, he would refuse me the meeting; and all +less ceremonious ways of arranging such an affair are +quite old-fashioned.</p> + +<p>“It is true, at our first meeting, I was betrayed into +the scrape I told you of—just as you may have shot +(or shot <i>at</i>, for I think you are no downright hitter) a +hen-pheasant, when flushed within distance, by a sort +of instinctive movement, without reflecting on the +enormity you are about to commit. The truth is, +there is an ignis fatuus influence, which seems to +govern our house—it poured its wildfire through my +father's veins—it has descended to me in full vigour, +and every now and then its impulse is irresistible. +There was my enemy, and here were my pistols, was +all I had time to think about the matter. But I will +be on my guard in future, the more surety, as I cannot +receive any provocation from him; on the contrary, if +I must confess the truth, though I was willing to gloss +it a little in my first account of the matter, (like the +Gazette, when recording a defeat,) I am certain he +would never voluntarily have fired at me, and that his +pistol went off as he fell. You know me well enough +to be assured, that I will never be again in the scrape +of attacking an unresisting antagonist, were he ten +times my brother.</p> + +<p>“Then, as to this long tirade about hating my +brother—Harry, I do not hate him more than the +first-born of Egypt are in general hated by those +whom they exclude from entailed estates, and so +forth—not one lauded man in twenty of us that is +not hated by his younger brothers, to the extent of +wishing him quiet in his grave, as an abominable +stumbling-block in their path of life; and so far only +do I hate Monsieur Martigny. But for the rest, I +rather like him as otherwise; and would he but die, +would give my frank consent to his being canonized: +and while he lives, I am not desirous that he should be +exposed to any temptation from rank and riches, those<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_107" id="vol_ii_Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> +main obstacles to the self-denying course of life, by which +the odour of sanctity is attained.</p> + +<p>“Here again you break in with your impertinent +queries—If I have no purpose of quarrelling personally +with Martigny, why do I come into collision with +him at all?—why not abide by the treaty of Marchthorn, +and remain in England, without again approaching +Saint Ronan's, or claiming my maiden bride?</p> + +<p>“Have I not told you, I want him to cease all +threatened attempts upon my fortune and dignity? +Have I not told you, that I want to claim my wife, +Clara Mowbray, and my estate of Nettlewood, fairly +won by marrying her?—And, to let you into the whole +secret, though Clara is a very pretty woman, yet she +goes for so little in the transaction with me, her animpassioned +bridegroom, that I hope to make some +relaxation of my rights over her the means of obtaining +the concessions which I think most important.</p> + +<p>“I will not deny, that an aversion to awakening +bustle, and encountering reproach, has made me so +slow in looking after my interest, that the period will +shortly expire, within which I ought, by old Scrog +Mowbray's will, to qualify myself for becoming his +heir, by being the accepted husband of Miss Mowbray +of St. Ronan's. Time was—time is—and, if I catch +it not by the forelock as it passes, time will be no more—Nettlewood +will be forfeited—and if I have in addition +a lawsuit for my title, and for Oakendale, I run a risk +of being altogether capotted. I must, therefore, act at +all risks, and act with vigour—and this is the general +plan of my campaign, subject always to be altered +according to circumstances. I have obtained—I may +say purchased—Mowbray's consent to address his sister. +I have this advantage, that if she agrees to take me, she +will for ever put a stop to all disagreeable reports and +recollections, founded on her former conduct. In that +case I secure the Nettlewood property, and am ready to +wage war for my paternal estate. Indeed, I firmly<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_108" id="vol_ii_Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> +believe, that should this happy consummation take +place, Monsieur Martigny will be too much heart-broken +to make further fight, but will e'en throw +helve after hatchet, and run to hide himself, after the +fashion of a true lover, in some desert beyond seas.</p> + +<p>“But supposing the lady has the bad taste to be +obstinate, and will none of me, I still think that her +happiness, or her peace of mind, will be as dear to +Martigny, as Gibraltar is to the Spaniards, and that +he will sacrifice a great deal to induce me to give up +my pretensions. Now, I shall want some one to act as +my agent in communicating with this fellow; for I will +not deny that my old appetite for cutting his throat +may awaken suddenly, were I to hold personal intercourse +with him. Come thou, therefore, without delay, +and hold my back-hand—Come, for you know me, and +that I never left a kindness unrewarded. To be specific, +you shall have means to pay off a certain inconvenient +mortgage, without troubling the tribe of Issachar, if +you will be but true to me in this matter—Come, therefore, +without further apologies or further delay. There +shall, I give you my word, neither be risk or offence in +the part of the drama which I intend to commit to your +charge.</p> + +<p>“Talking of the drama, we had a miserable attempt +at a sort of bastard theatricals, at Mowbray's rat-gnawed +mansion. There were two things worth noticing—One, +that I lost all the courage on which I pique myself, and +fairly fled from the pit, rather than present myself before +Miss Clara Mowbray, when it came to the push. And +upon this I pray you to remark, that I am a person of +singular delicacy and modesty, instead of being the +Drawcansir and Daredevil that you would make of me. +The other memorabile is of a more delicate nature, +respecting the conduct of a certain fair lady, who +seemed determined to fling herself at my head. There +is a wonderful degree of freemasonry among us folk of +spirit; and it is astonishing how soon we can place our<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_109" id="vol_ii_Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span>selves +on a footing with neglected wives and discontented +daughters. If you come not soon, one of the rewards held +out to you in my former letter, will certainly not be forthcoming. +No schoolboy keeps gingerbread, for his comrade, +without feeling a desire to nibble at it; so, if you +appear not to look after your own interest, say you had +fair warning. For my own part, I am rather embarrassed +than gratified by the prospect of such an affair, +when I have on the tapis another of a different nature. +This enigma I will explain at meeting.</p> + +<p>“Thus finishes my long communication. If my +motives of action do not appear explicit, think in what +a maze fortune has involved me, and how much +must necessarily depend on the chapter of accidents.</p> + +<p>“Yesterday I may be said to have opened my siege, +for I presented myself before Clara. I had no very +flattering reception—that was of little consequence, for +I did not expect one. By alarming her fears, I made +an impression thus far, that she acquiesces in my +appearing before her as her brother's guest, and this is +no small point gained. She will become accustomed to +look on me, and will remember with less bitterness the +trick which I played her formerly; while I, on the other +hand, by a similar force of habit, will get over certain +awkward feelings with which I have been compunctiously +visited whenever I look upon her.—Adieu! +Health and brotherhood.</p> + +<p style="text-align: right;"> +<span style="margin-right: 8em;">“Thine,<br /></span> +“<span class="smcap">Etherington</span>.”<br /> +</p></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_110" id="vol_ii_Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span></p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol_ii_CHAPTER_VIII" id="vol_ii_CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII.</h2> + +<h3>THE REPLY.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thou bear'st a precious burden, gentle post,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Nitre and sulphur—See that it explode not!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="citation"> +<i>Old Play.</i><br /> +</p> + + +<div class="blockquot"><p>“I have received your two long letters, my dear +Etherington, with equal surprise and interest; for +what I knew of your Scottish adventures before, was +by no means sufficient to prepare me for a statement so +perversely complicated. The Ignis Fatuus which, you +say, governed your father, seems to have ruled the fortunes +of your whole house, there is so much eccentricity in +all that you have told me. But <i>n'importe</i>, Etherington, +you were my friend—you held me up when I was completely +broken down; and, whatever you may think, +my services are at your command much more from +reflections on the past, than hopes for the future. I +am no speechmaker, but this you may rely on while I +continue to be Harry Jekyl. You have deserved some +love at my hands, Etherington, and you have it.</p> + +<p>“Perhaps I love you the better since your perplexities +have become known to me; for, my dear +Etherington, you were before too much an object of +envy to be entirely an object of affection. What a +happy fellow! was the song of all who named you. +Bank, and a fortune to maintain it—luck sufficient +to repair all the waste that you could make in your +income, and skill to back that luck, or supply it +should it for a moment fail you.—The cards turning<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_111" id="vol_ii_Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> +up as if to your wish—the dice rolling, it almost +seemed, at your wink—it was rather your look than +the touch of your cue that sent the ball into the +pocket. You seemed to have fortune in chains, and +a man of less honour would have been almost suspected +of helping his luck by a little art.—You won every +bet; and the instant that you were interested, one +might have named the winning horse—it was always +that which you were to gain most by.—You never held +out your piece but the game went down—and then the +women!—with face, manners, person, and, above all, +your tongue—what wild work have you made among +them!—Good heaven! and have you had the old +sword hanging over your head by a horsehair all this +while?—Has your rank been doubtful?—Your fortune +unsettled?—And your luck, so constant in every +thing else, has that, as well as your predominant +influence with the women, failed you, when you wished +to form a connexion for life, and when the care of your +fortune required you to do so?—Etherington, I am +astonished!—The Mowbray scrape I always thought +an inconvenient one, as well as the quarrel with this +same Tyrrel, or Martigny; but I was far from guessing +the complicated nature of your perplexities.</p> + +<p>“But I must not run on in a manner which, though +it relieves my own marvelling mind, cannot be very +pleasant to you. Enough, I look on my obligations to +you as more light to be borne, now I have some chance +of repaying them to a certain extent; but, even were +the full debt paid, I would remain as much attached to +you as ever. It is your friend who speaks, Etherington; +and, if he offers his advice in somewhat plain language, +do not, I entreat you, suppose that your confidence has +encouraged an offensive familiarity, but consider me as +one who, in a weighty matter, writes plainly, to avoid +the least chance of misconstruction.</p> + +<p>“Etherington, your conduct hitherto has resembled +anything rather than the coolness and judgment which<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_112" id="vol_ii_Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> +are so peculiarly your own when you choose to display +them. I pass over the masquerade of your marriage—it +was a boy's trick, which could hardly have availed you +much, even if successful; for what sort of a wife would +you have acquired, had this same Clara Mowbray proved +willing to have accepted the change which you had put +upon her, and transferred herself, without repugnance, +from one bridegroom to another?—Poor as I am, I +know that neither Nettlewood nor Oakendale should +have bribed me to marry such a —— I cannot decorously +fill up the blank.</p> + +<p>“Neither, my dear Etherington, can I forgive you +the trick you put on the clergyman, in whose eyes you +destroyed the poor girl's character to induce him to +consent to perform the ceremony, and have thereby perhaps +fixed an indelible stain on her for life—this was +not a fair <i>ruse de guerre</i>.—As it is, you have taken +little by your stratagem—unless, indeed, it should be +difficult for the young lady to prove the imposition put +upon her—for that being admitted, the marriage certainly +goes for nothing. At least, the only use you +can make of it, would be to drive her into a more formal +union, for fear of having this whole unpleasant +discussion brought into a court of law; and in this, +with all the advantages you possess, joined to your +own arts of persuasion, and her brother's influence, I +should think you very likely to succeed. All women +are necessarily the slaves of their reputation. I have +known some who have given up their virtue to preserve +their character, which is, after all, only the shadow of +it. I therefore would not conceive it difficult for Clara +Mowbray to persuade herself to become a countess, +rather than be the topic of conversation for all Britain, +while a lawsuit betwixt you is in dependence; and that +may be for the greater part of both your lives.</p> + +<p>“But, in Miss Mowbray's state of mind, it may +require time to bring her to such a conclusion; and I +fear you will be thwarted in your operations by your<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_113" id="vol_ii_Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> +rival—I will not offend you by calling him your +brother. Now, it is here that I think with pleasure +I may be of some use to you,—under this special condition, +that there shall be no thoughts of farther +violence taking place between you. However you may +have smoothed over your rencontre to yourself, there is +no doubt that the public would have regarded any accident +which might have befallen on that occasion, as a +crime of the deepest dye, and that the law would have +followed it with the most severe punishment. And for +all that I have said of my serviceable disposition, I would +fain stop short on this side of the gallows—my neck +is too long already. Without a jest, Etherington, you +must be ruled by counsel in this matter. I detect your +hatred to this man in every line of your letter, even +when you write with the greatest coolness; even where +there is an affectation of gaiety, I read your sentiments +on this subject; and they are such as—I will not +preach to you—I will not say a good man—but such +as every wise man—every man who wishes to live on +fair terms with the world, and to escape general malediction, +and perhaps a violent death, where all men +will clap their hands and rejoice at the punishment of +the fratricide,—would, with all possible speed, eradicate +from his breast. My services therefore, if they +are worth your acceptance, are offered on the condition +that this unholy hatred be subdued with the utmost +force of your powerful mind, and that you avoid every +thing which can possibly lead to such a catastrophe as +you have twice narrowly escaped. I do not ask you to +like this man, for I know well the deep root which your +prejudices hold in your mind; I merely ask you to avoid +him, and to think of him as one, who, if you do meet +him, can never be the object of personal resentment.</p> + +<p>“On these conditions, I will instantly join you at +your Spa, and wait but your answer to throw myself +into the post-chaise. I will seek out this Martigny for +you, and I have the vanity to think I shall be able<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_114" id="vol_ii_Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> +to persuade him to take the course which his own true +interest, as well as yours, so plainly points out—and +that is, to depart and make us free of him. You must +not grudge a round sum of money, should that prove +necessary—we must make wings for him to fly with, +and I must be empowered by you to that purpose. I +cannot think you have any thing serious to fear from a +lawsuit. Your father threw out this sinister hint at a +moment when he was enraged at his wife, and irritated +by his son; and I have little doubt that his expressions +were merely flashes of anger at the moment, though +I see they have made a deep impression on you. At +all events, he spoke of a preference to his illegitimate +son, as something which it was in his own power to +give or to withhold; and he has died without bestowing +it. The family seem addicted to irregular matrimony, +and some left-handed marriage there may have been +used to propitiate the modesty, and save the conscience, +of the French lady; but, that any thing of the nature +of a serious and legal ceremony took place, nothing but +the strongest proof can make me believe.</p> + +<p>“I repeat, then, that I have little doubt that the +claims of Martigny, whatever they are, may be easily +compounded, and England made clear of him. This +will be more easily done, if he really entertains such a +romantic passion, as you describe, for Miss Clara Mowbray. +It would be easy to show him, that whether she +is disposed to accept your lordship's hand or not, her +quiet and peace of mind must depend on his leaving the +country. Rely on it, I shall find out the way to +smooth him down, and whether distance or the grave +divide Martigny and you, is very little to the purpose; +unless in so far as the one point can be attained with +honour and safety, and the other, if attempted, would +only make all concerned the subject of general execration +and deserved punishment.—Speak the word, and +I attend you, as your truly grateful and devoted</p> + +<p style="text-align: right;"> +“<span class="smcap">Henry Jekyl</span>.”<br /> +</p></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_115" id="vol_ii_Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span></p> + +<p>To this admonitory epistle, the writer received, +in the course of post, the following answer:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>“My truly grateful and devoted Henry Jekyl has +adopted a tone, which seems to be exalted without any +occasion. Why, thou suspicious monitor, have I not +repeated a hundred times that I repent sincerely of +the foolish rencontre, and am determined to curb my +temper, and be on my guard in future—And what +need you come upon me, with your long lesson about +execration, and punishment, and fratricide, and so +forth?—You deal with an argument as a boy does +with the first hare he shoots, which he never thinks +dead till he has fired the second barrel into her. What +a fellow you would have been for a lawyer! how long +you would have held forth upon the plainest cause, +until the poor bothered judge was almost willing to +decide against justice, that he might be revenged on +you. If I must repeat what I have said twenty times, +I tell you I have no thoughts of proceeding with this +fellow as I would with another. If my father's blood +be in his veins, it shall save the skin his mother gave +him. And so come, without more parade, either of +stipulation or argument. Thou art, indeed, a curious +animal! One would think, to read your communication, +that you had yourself discovered the propriety of acting +as a negotiator, and the reasons which might, in +the course of such a treaty, be urged with advantage +to induce this fellow to leave the country—Why, this +is the very course chalked out in my last letter! You +are bolder than the boldest gipsy, for you not only +steal my ideas, and disfigure them that they may pass +for yours, but you have the assurance to come a-begging +with them to the door of the original parent! No +man like you for stealing other men's inventions, and +cooking them up in your own way. However, Harry, +bating a little self-conceit and assumption, thou art as +honest a fellow as ever man put faith in—clever, too,<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_116" id="vol_ii_Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> +in your own style, though not quite the genius you +would fain pass for.—Come on thine own terms, and +come as speedily as thou canst. I do not reckon the +promise I made the less binding, that you very generously +make no allusion to it.</p> + +<p style="text-align: right;"> +<span style="margin-right: 8em;">“Thine,<br /></span> +“<span class="smcap">Etherington</span>.<br /> +</p> + +<p>“P.S. One single caution I must add—do not +mention my name to any one at Harrowgate, or your +prospect of meeting me, or the route which you are +about to take. On the purpose of your journey, it is +unnecessary to recommend silence. I know not whether +such doubts are natural to all who have secret measures +to pursue, or whether nature has given me an unusual +share of anxious suspicion; but I cannot divest myself +of the idea, that I am closely watched by some one +whom I cannot discover. Although I concealed my +purpose of coming hither from all mankind but you, +whom I do not for an instant suspect of blabbing, yet +it was known to this Martigny, and he is down here +before me. Again, I said not a word—gave not a +hint to any one of my views towards Clara, yet the +tattling people here had spread a report of a marriage +depending between us, even before I could make the +motion to her brother. To be sure, in such society +there is nothing talked of but marrying and giving +in marriage; and this, which alarms me, as connected +with my own private purposes, may be a bare rumour, +arising out of the gossip of the place—Yet I feel +like the poor woman in the old story, who felt herself +watched by an eye that glared upon her from +behind the tapestry.</p> + +<p>“I should have told you in my last, that I had been +recognised at a public entertainment by the old clergyman, +who pronounced the matrimonial blessing on +Clara and me, nearly eight years ago. He insisted +upon addressing me by the name of Valentine Bulmer,<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_117" id="vol_ii_Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> +under which I was then best known. It did not suit +me at present to put him into my confidence, so I cut +him, Harry, as I would an old pencil. The task was +the less difficult, that I had to do with one of the most +absent men that ever dreamed with his eyes open. I +verily believe he might be persuaded that the whole +transaction was a vision, and that he had never in +reality seen me before. Your pious rebuke, therefore, +about what I told him formerly concerning the lovers, +is quite thrown away. After all, if what I said was +not accurately true, as I certainly believe it was an +exaggeration, it was all Saint Francis of Martigny's +fault, I suppose. I am sure he had love and opportunity +on his side.</p> + +<p>“Here you have a postscript, Harry, longer than +the letter, but it must conclude with the same burden—Come, +and come quickly.”</p></div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_118" id="vol_ii_Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol_ii_CHAPTER_IX" id="vol_ii_CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX.</h2> + +<h3>THE FRIGHT.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">As shakes the bough of trembling leaf,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When sudden whirlwinds rise;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As stands aghast the warrior chief,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">When his base army flies.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">. . . . . .<br /></span> +</div></div> + + +<p>It had been settled by all who took the matter +into consideration, that the fidgety, fiery, old Nabob +would soon quarrel with his landlady, Mrs. Dods, and +become impatient of his residence at St. Ronan's. +A man so kind to himself, and so inquisitive about +the affairs of others, could have, it was supposed, +a limited sphere for gratification either of his tastes or +of his curiosity, in the Aultoun of St. Ronan's: and +many a time the precise day and hour of his departure +were fixed by the idlers at the Spa. But still +old Touchwood appeared amongst them when the +weather permitted, with his nut-brown visage, his +throat carefully wrapped up in an immense Indian +kerchief, and his gold-headed cane, which he never +failed to carry over his shoulder; his short, but +stout limbs, and his active step, showing plainly +that he bore it rather as a badge of dignity than a +means of support. There he stood, answering +shortly and gruffly to all questions proposed to him, +and making his remarks aloud upon the company, +with great indifference as to the offence which<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_119" id="vol_ii_Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> +plight be taken; and as soon as the ancient priestess +had handed him his glass of the salutiferous water, +turned on his heel with a brief good-morning, and +either marched back to hide himself in the Manse, +with his crony Mr. Cargill, or to engage in +some hobby-horsical pursuit connected with his +neighbours in the Aultoun.</p> + +<p>The truth was, that the honest gentleman having, +so far as Mrs. Dods would permit, put matters to +rights within her residence, wisely abstained from +pushing his innovations any farther, aware that it +is not every stone which is capable of receiving the +last degree of polish. He next set himself about +putting Mr. Cargill's house into order; and without +leave asked or given by that reverend gentleman, +he actually accomplished as wonderful a reformation +in the Manse, as could have been effected by a +benevolent Brownie. The floors were sometimes +swept—the carpets were sometimes shaken—the +plates and dishes were cleaner—there was tea and +sugar in the tea-chest, and a joint of meat at proper +times was to be found in the larder. The elder +maid-servant wore a good stuff gown—the younger +snooded up her hair, and now went about the house +a damsel so trig and neat, that some said she was +too handsome for the service of a bachelor divine; +and others, that they saw no business so old a fool +as the Nabob had to be meddling with a lassie's +busking. But for such evil bruits Mr. Touchwood +cared not, even if he happened to hear of them, +which was very doubtful. Add to all these +changes, that the garden was weeded, and the +glebe was regularly laboured.</p> + +<p>The talisman by which all this desirable alteration +was wrought, consisted partly in small presents,<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_120" id="vol_ii_Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> +partly in constant attention. The liberality of the +singular old gentleman gave him a perfect right to +scold when he saw things wrong; the domestics, +who had fallen into total sloth and indifference, +began to exert themselves under Mr. Touchwood's +new system of rewards and surveillance; and the +minister, half unconscious of the cause, reaped the +advantage of the exertions of his busy friend. +Sometimes he lifted his head, when he heard workmen +thumping and bouncing in the neighbourhood +of his study, and demanded the meaning of the +clatter which annoyed him; but on receiving for +answer that it was by order of Mr. Touchwood, he +resumed his labours, under the persuasion that all +was well.</p> + +<p>But even the Augean task of putting the Manse +in order, did not satisfy the gigantic activity of Mr. +Touchwood. He aspired to universal dominion in +the Aultoun of St. Ronan's; and, like most men of +an ardent temper, he contrived, in a great measure, +to possess himself of the authority which he longed +after. Then was there war waged by him with all +the petty, but perpetual nuisances, which infest a +Scottish town of the old stamp—then was the hereditary +dunghill, which had reeked before the window +of the cottage for fourscore years, transported behind +the house—then was the broken wheelbarrow, or +unserviceable cart, removed out of the footpath—the +old hat, or blue petticoat, taken from the window +into which it had been stuffed, to “expel the winter's +flaw,” was consigned to the gutter, and its place +supplied by good perspicuous glass. The means by +which such reformation was effected, were the same +as resorted to in the Manse—money and admonition. +The latter given alone would have met little<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_121" id="vol_ii_Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> +attention—perhaps would have provoked opposition—but, +softened and sweetened by a little present to +assist the reform recommended, it sunk into the +hearts of the hearers, and in general overcame their +objections. Besides, an opinion of the Nabob's +wealth was high among the villagers; and an idea +prevailed amongst them, that, notwithstanding his +keeping no servants or equipage, he was able to +purchase, if he pleased, half the land in the country. +It was not grand carriages and fine liveries that +made heavy purses, they rather helped to lighten +them; and they said, who pretended to know what +they were talking about, that old Turnpenny, and +Mr. Bindloose to boot, would tell down more money +on Mr. Touchwood's mere word, than upon the joint +bond of half the fine folk at the Well. Such an +opinion smoothed every thing before the path of one, +who showed himself neither averse to give nor to +lend; and it by no means diminished the reputation +of his wealth, that in transactions of business he was +not carelessly negligent of his interest, but plainly +showed he understood the value of what he was +parting with. Few, therefore, cared to withstand +the humours of a whimsical old gentleman, who had +both the will and the means of obliging those disposed +to comply with his fancies; and thus the +singular stranger contrived, in the course of a brief +space of days or weeks, to place the villagers more +absolutely at his devotion, than they had been to +the pleasure of any individual since their ancient +lords had left the Aultoun. The power of the baron-bailie +himself, though the office was vested in the +person of old Meiklewham, was a subordinate jurisdiction, +compared to the voluntary allegiance which +the inhabitants paid to Mr. Touchwood.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_122" id="vol_ii_Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span></p> + +<p>There were, however, recusants, who declined +the authority thus set up amongst them, and, with +the characteristic obstinacy of their countrymen, +refused to hearken to the words of the stranger, +whether they were for good or for evil. These +men's dunghills were not removed, nor the stumbling-blocks +taken from the footpath, where it +passed the front of their houses. And it befell, that +while Mr. Touchwood was most eager in abating +the nuisances of the village, he had very nearly +experienced a frequent fate of great reformers—that +of losing his life by means of one of those enormities +which as yet had subsisted in spite of all his +efforts.</p> + +<p>The Nabob finding his time after dinner hang +somewhat heavy on his hand, and the moon being +tolerably bright, had, one harvest evening, sought +his usual remedy for dispelling ennui by a walk to +the Manse, where he was sure, that, if he could not +succeed in engaging the minister himself in some +disputation, he would at least find something in the +establishment to animadvert upon and to restore to +order.</p> + +<p>Accordingly, he had taken the opportunity to +lecture the younger of the minister's lasses upon +the duty of wearing shoes and stockings; and, as +his advice came fortified by a present of six pair of +white cotton hose, and two pair of stout leathern +shoes, it was received, not with respect only, but +with gratitude, and the chuck under the chin that +rounded up the oration, while she opened the outer +door for his honour, was acknowledged with a blush +and a giggle. Nay, so far did Grizzy carry her sense +of Mr. Touchwood's kindness, that, observing the +moon was behind a cloud, she very carefully offered<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_123" id="vol_ii_Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> +to escort him to the Cleikum Inn with a lantern, in +case he should come to some harm by the gate. +This the traveller's independent spirit scorned to +listen to; and, having briefly assured her that he +had walked the streets of Paris and of Madrid whole +nights without such an accommodation, he stoutly +strode off on his return to his lodgings.</p> + +<p>An accident, however, befell him, which, unless +the police of Madrid and Paris be belied, might have +happened in either of those two splendid capitals, +as well as in the miserable Aultoun of St. Ronan's. +Before the door of Saunders Jaup, a feuar of some +importance, “who held his land free, and caredna +a bodle for any one,” yawned that odoriferous gulf, +ycleped, in Scottish phrase, the jawhole; in other +words, an uncovered common sewer. The local +situation of this receptacle of filth was well known +to Mr. Touchwood; for Saunders Jaup was at the +very head of those who held out for the practices +of their fathers, and still maintained those ancient +and unsavoury customs which our traveller had in +so many instances succeeded in abating. Guided, +therefore, by his nose, the Nabob made a considerable +circuit to avoid the displeasure and danger of +passing this filthy puddle at the nearest, and by +that means fell upon Scylla as he sought to avoid +Charybdis. In plain language, he approached so +near the bank of a little rivulet, which in that place +passed betwixt the footpath and the horse-road, +that he lost his footing, and fell into the channel +of the streamlet from a height of three or four +feet. It was thought that the noise of his fall, or +at least his call for assistance, must have been heard +in the house of Saunders Jaup; but that honest +person was, according to his own account, at that<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_124" id="vol_ii_Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> +time engaged in the exercise of the evening; an +excuse which passed current, although Saunders +was privately heard to allege, that the town would +have been the quieter, “if the auld, meddling busybody +had bidden still in the burn for gude and a'.”</p> + +<p>But Fortune had provided better for poor Touchwood, +whose foibles, as they arose out of the most +excellent motives, would have ill deserved so severe +a fate. A passenger, who heard him shout for help, +ventured cautiously to the side of the bank, down +which he had fallen; and, after ascertaining the +nature of the ground as carefully as the darkness +permitted, was at length, and not without some +effort, enabled to assist him out of the channel of +the rivulet.</p> + +<p>“Are you hurt materially?” said this good +Samaritan to the object of his care.</p> + +<p>“No—no—d—n it—no,” said Touchwood, +extremely angry at his disaster, and the cause of it. +“Do you think I, who have been at the summit of +Mount Athos, where the precipice sinks a thousand +feet on the sea, care a farthing about such a fall +as this is?”</p> + +<p>But, as he spoke, he reeled, and his kind assistant +caught him by the arm to prevent his falling.</p> + +<p>“I fear you are more hurt than you suppose, sir,” +said the stranger: “permit me to go home along +with you.”</p> + +<p>“With all my heart,” said Touchwood; “for +though it is impossible I can need help in such a +foolish matter, yet I am equally obliged to you, +friend; and if the Cleikum Inn be not out of your +road, I will take your arm so far, and thank you to +the boot.”</p> + +<p>“It is much at your service, sir,” said the stranger;<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_125" id="vol_ii_Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> +“indeed, I was thinking to lodge there for the +night.”</p> + +<p>“I am glad to hear it,” resumed Touchwood; +“you shall be my guest, and I will make them +look after you in proper fashion—You seem to be a +very civil sort of fellow, and I do not find your arm +inconvenient—it is the rheumatism makes me walk +so ill—the pest of all that have been in hot climates +when they settle among these d—d fogs.”</p> + +<p>“Lean as hard and walk as slow as you will, +sir,” said the benevolent assistant—“this is a +rough street.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, sir—and why is it rough?” answered +Touchwood. “Why, because the old pig-headed +fool, Saunders Jaup, will not allow it to be made +smooth. There he sits, sir, and obstructs all +rational improvement; and, if a man would not fall +into his infernal putrid gutter, and so become an +abomination to himself and odious to others, for his +whole life to come, he runs the risk of breaking his +neck, as I have done to-night.”</p> + +<p>“I am afraid, sir,” said his companion, “you +have fallen on the most dangerous side.—You +remember Swift's proverb, ‘The more dirt, the less +hurt.’”</p> + +<p>“But why should there be either dirt or hurt in +a well-regulated place?” answered Touchwood—“Why +should not men be able to go about their +affairs at night, in such a hamlet as this, without +either endangering necks or noses?—Our Scottish +magistrates are worth nothing, sir—nothing at all. +Oh for a Turkish Cadi, now, to trounce the scoundrel—or +the Mayor of Calcutta to bring him into +his court—or were it but an English Justice of the +Peace that is newly included in the commission,<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_126" id="vol_ii_Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> +they would abate the villain's nuisance with a vengeance +on him!—But here we are—this is the +Cleikum Inn.—Hallo—hilloa—house!—Eppie +Anderson!—Beenie Chambermaid!—boy Boots!—Mrs. +Dods!—are you all of you asleep and +dead?—Here have I been half murdered, and you +let me stand bawling at the door!”</p> + +<p>Eppie Anderson came with a light, and so did +Beenie Chambermaid with another; but no sooner +did they look upon the pair who stood in the porch +under the huge sign that swung to and fro with +heavy creaking, than Beenie screamed, flung away +her candle, although a four in the pound, and in a +newly japanned candlestick, and fled one way, while +Eppie Anderson, echoing the yell, brandished her +light round her head like a Bacchante flourishing +her torch, and ran off in another direction.</p> + +<p>“Ay—I must be a bloody spectacle,” said Mr. +Touchwood, letting himself fall heavily upon his +assistant's shoulder, and wiping his face, which +trickled with wet—“I did not think I had been +so seriously hurt; but I find my weakness now—I +must have lost much blood.”</p> + +<p>“I hope you are still mistaken,” said the stranger; +“but here lies the way to the kitchen—we +shall find light there, since no one chooses to bring +it to us.”</p> + +<p>He assisted the old gentleman into the kitchen, +where a lamp, as well as a bright fire, was burning, +by the light of which he could easily discern that +the supposed blood was only water of the rivulet, +and, indeed, none of the cleanest, although much +more so than the sufferer would have found it a +little lower, where the stream is joined by the superfluities +of Saunders Jaup's palladium. Relieved<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_127" id="vol_ii_Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> +by his new friend's repeated assurances that such +was the case, the Senior began to bustle up a little, +and his companion, desirous to render him every +assistance, went to the door of the kitchen to call for +a basin and water. Just as he was about to open +the door, the voice of Mrs. Dods was heard as she +descended the stairs, in a tone of indignation by no +means unusual to her, yet mingled at the same time +with a few notes that sounded like unto the quaverings +of consternation.</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 800px;"> +<img src="images/illus-2_127.jpg" width="800" height="523" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>“Idle limmers—silly sluts—I'll warrant nane o' +ye will ever see ony thing waur than yoursell, ye +silly tawpies—Ghaist, indeed!—I'll warrant it's +some idle dub-skelper frae the Waal, coming after +some o' yoursells on nae honest errand—Ghaist, +indeed!—Haud up the candle, John Ostler—I'se +warrant it a twa-handed ghaist, and the door left +on the sneck. There's somebody in the kitchen—gang +forward wi' the lantern, John Ostler.”</p> + +<p>At this critical moment the stranger opened the +door of the kitchen, and beheld the Dame advancing +at the head of her household troops. The +ostler and humpbacked postilion, one bearing a +stable-lantern and a hay-fork, the other a rushlight +and a broom, constituted the advanced guard; Mrs. +Dods herself formed the centre, talking loud and +brandishing a pair of tongs; while the two maids, +like troops not to be much trusted after their +recent defeat, followed, cowering in the rear. But +notwithstanding this admirable disposition, no sooner +had the stranger shown his face, and pronounced +the words “Mrs. Dods!” than a panic seized the +whole array. The advanced guard recoiled in consternation, +the ostler upsetting Mrs. Dods in the +confusion of his retreat; while she, grappling with<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_128" id="vol_ii_Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> +him in her terror, secured him by the ears and hair, +and they joined their cries together in hideous +chorus. The two maidens resumed their former +flight, and took refuge in the darksome den, entitled +their bedroom, while the humpbacked postilion +fled like the wind into the stable, and, with professional +instinct, began, in the extremity of his +terror, to saddle a horse.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, the guest whose appearance had +caused this combustion, plucked the roaring ostler +from above Mrs. Dods, and pushing him away with +a hearty slap on the shoulder, proceeded to raise +and encourage the fallen landlady, enquiring, at the +same time, “What, in the devil's name, was the +cause of all this senseless confusion?”</p> + +<p>“And what is the reason, in Heaven's name,” +answered the matron, keeping her eyes firmly shut, +and still shrewish in her expostulation, though in +the very extremity of terror, “what is the reason +that you should come and frighten a decent house, +where you met naething, when ye was in the body, +but the height of civility?”</p> + +<p>“And why should I frighten you, Mrs. Dods? +or, in one word, what is the meaning of all this +nonsensical terror?”</p> + +<p>“Are not you,” said Mrs. Dods, opening her +eyes a little as she spoke, “the ghaist of Francis +Tirl?”</p> + +<p>“I am Francis Tyrrel, unquestionably, my old +friend.”</p> + +<p>“I kend it! I kend it!” answered the honest +woman, relapsing into her agony; “and I think +ye might be ashamed of yourself, that are a ghaist, +and have nae better to do than to frighten a puir +auld alewife.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_129" id="vol_ii_Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span></p> + +<p>“On my word, I am no ghost, but a living man,” +answered Tyrrel.</p> + +<p>“Were ye no murdered than?” demanded Mrs. Dods, +still in an uncertain voice, and only partially opening +her eyes—“Are ye very sure ye werena murdered?”</p> + +<p>“Why, not that ever I heard of, certainly, +dame,” replied Tyrrel.</p> + +<p>“But <i>I</i> shall be murdered presently,” said old +Touchwood from the kitchen, where he had hitherto +remained a mute auditor of this extraordinary +scene—“<i>I</i> shall be murdered, unless you fetch me +some water without delay.”</p> + +<p>“Coming, sir, coming,” answered Dame Dods, +her professional reply being as familiar to her as +that of poor Francis's “Anon, anon, sir.” “As I +live by honest reckonings,” said she, fully collecting +herself, and giving a glance of more composed +temper at Tyrrel, “I believe it <i>is</i> yoursell, Maister +Frank, in blood and body after a'—And see if +I dinna gie a proper sorting to yon twa silly jauds +that gard me mak a bogle of you, and a fule of +mysell—Ghaists! my certie, I sall ghaist them—If +they had their heads as muckle on their wark as +on their daffing, they wad play nae sic pliskies—it's +the wanton steed that scaurs at the windle-strae—Ghaists! +wha e'er heard of ghaists in an honest +house? Naebody need fear bogles that has a conscience +void of offence.—But I am blithe that +MacTurk hasna murdered ye when a' is done, +Maister Francie.”</p> + +<p>“Come this way, Mother Dods, if you would not +have me do a mischief!” exclaimed Touchwood, +grasping a plate which stood on the dresser, as if +he were about to heave it at the landlady, by way +of recalling her attention.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_130" id="vol_ii_Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span></p> + +<p>“For the love of Heaven, dinna break it!” +exclaimed the alarmed landlady, knowing that +Touchwood's effervescence of impatience sometimes +expended itself at the expense of her crockery, +though it was afterwards liberally atoned for. +“Lord, sir, are ye out of your wits!—it breaks a +set, ye ken—Godsake, put doun the cheeny plate, +and try your hand on the delf-ware!—it will just +make as good a jingle—But, Lord haud a grip o' +us! now I look at ye, what can hae come ower ye, +and what sort of a plight are ye in!—Wait till I +fetch water and a towel.”</p> + +<p>In fact, the miserable guise of her new lodger +now overcame the dame's curiosity to enquire after +the fate of her earlier acquaintance, and she gave +her instant and exclusive attention to Mr. Touchwood, +with many exclamations, while aiding him to +perform the task of ablution and abstersion. Her two +fugitive handmaidens had by this time returned to +the kitchen, and endeavoured to suppress a smuggled +laugh at the recollection of their mistress's panic, by +acting very officiously in Mr. Touchwood's service. +By dint of washing and drying, the token of the +sable stains was at length removed, and the veteran +became, with some difficulty, satisfied that he had +been more dirtied and frightened than hurt.</p> + +<p>Tyrrel, in the meantime, stood looking on with +wonder, imagining that he beheld in the features +which emerged from a mask of mud, the countenance +of an old friend. After the operation was +ended, he could not help addressing himself to Mr. +Touchwood, to demand whether he had not the +pleasure to see a friend, to whom he had been +obliged when at Smyrna, for some kindness respecting +his money matters?<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_131" id="vol_ii_Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Not worth speaking of—not worth speaking +of,” said Touchwood, hastily. “Glad to see you, +though—glad to see you.—Yes, here I am; you +will find me the same good-natured old fool that I +was at Smyrna—never look how I am to get in +money again—always laying it out. Never mind—it +was written in my forehead, as the Turk says.—I +will go up now and change my dress—you +will sup with me when I come back—Mrs. Dods +will toss us up something—a brandered fowl will +be best, Mrs. Dods, with some mushrooms, and get +us a jug of mulled wine—plottie, as you call it—to +put the recollection of the old Presbyterian's +common sewer out of my head.”</p> + +<p>So saying, up stairs marched the traveller to his +own apartment, while Tyrrel, seizing upon a candle, +was about to do the same.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Touchwood is in the blue room, Mrs. Dods; +I suppose I may take possession of the yellow one?”</p> + +<p>“Suppose naething about the matter, Maister +Francis Tirl, till ye tell me downright where ye +have been a' this time, and whether ye hae been +murdered or no?”</p> + +<p>“I think you may be pretty well satisfied of +that, Mrs. Dods?”</p> + +<p>“Trot! and so I am in a sense; and yet it gars +me grue to look upon ye, sae mony days and weeks +it has been since I thought ye were rotten in the +moulds. And now to see ye standing before me +hale and feir, and crying for a bedroom like ither +folk!”</p> + +<p>“One would almost suppose, my good friend,” +said Tyrrel, “that you were sorry at my having +come alive again.”</p> + +<p>“It's no for that,” replied Mrs. Dods, who was<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_132" id="vol_ii_Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> +peculiarly ingenious in the mode of framing and +stating what she conceived to be her grievances; +“but is it no a queer thing for a decent man like +yoursell, Maister Tirl, to be leaving your lodgings +without a word spoken, and me put to a' these +charges in seeking for your dead body, and very +near taking my business out of honest Maister +Bindloose's hands, because he kend the cantrips of +the like of you better than I did?—And than they +hae putten up an advertisement down at the Waal +yonder, wi' a' their names at it, setting ye forth, +Maister Francie, as are of the greatest blackguards +unhanged; and wha, div ye think, is to keep +ye in a creditable house, if that's the character ye +get?”</p> + +<p>“You may leave that to me, Mrs. Dods—I +assure you that matter shall be put to rights to +your satisfaction; and I think, so long as we have +known each other, you may take my word that I +am not undeserving the shelter of your roof for a +single night, (I shall ask it no longer,) until my +character is sufficiently cleared. It was for that +purpose chiefly I came back again.”</p> + +<p>“Came back again!” said Mrs. Dods.—“I profess +ye made me start, Maister Tirl, and you looking +sae pale, too.—But I think,” she added, straining +after a joke, “if ye were a ghaist, seeing we are such +auld acquaintance, ye wadna wish to spoil my custom, +but would just walk decently up and down the +auld castle wa's, or maybe down at the kirk yonder—there +have been awfu' things done in that kirk +and kirkyard—I whiles dinna like to look that +way, Maister Francie.”</p> + +<p>“I am much of your mind, mistress,” said Tyrrel, +with a sigh; “and, indeed, I do in one<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_133" id="vol_ii_Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> +resemble the apparitions you talk of; for, like them, +and to as little purpose, I stalk about scenes where +my happiness departed.—But I speak riddles to +you, Mrs. Dods—the plain truth is, that I met +with an accident on the day I last left your house, +the effects of which detained me at some distance +from St. Ronan's till this very day.”</p> + +<p>“Hegh, sirs, and ye were sparing of your trouble, +that wadna write a bit line, or send a bit message!—Ye +might hae thought folk wad hae been vexed +eneugh about ye, forby undertaking journeys, and +hiring folk to seek for your dead body.”</p> + +<p>“I shall willingly pay all reasonable charges +which my disappearance may have occasioned,” +answered her guest; “and I assure you, once for +all, that my remaining for some time quiet at +Marchthorn, arose partly from illness, and partly +from business of a very pressing and particular +nature.”</p> + +<p>“At Marchthorn!” exclaimed Dame Dods, +“heard ever man the like o' that!—And where +did ye put up in Marchthorn, an ane may mak' +bauld to speer?”</p> + +<p>“At the Black Bull,” replied Tyrrel.</p> + +<p>“Ay, that's auld Tam Lowrie's—a very decent +man, Thamas—and a douce creditable house—nane +of your flisk-ma-hoys—I am glad ye made +choice of sic gude quarters, neighbour; for I am +beginning to think ye are but a queer ane—ye look +as if butter wadna melt in your mouth, but I sall +warrant cheese no choke ye.—But I'll thank ye to +gang your ways into the parlour, for I am no like +to get muckle mair out o' ye, it's like; and ye are +standing here just in the gate, when we hae the +supper to dish.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_134" id="vol_ii_Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span></p> + +<p>Tyrrel, glad to be released from the examination +to which his landlady's curiosity had without ceremony +subjected him, walked into the parlour, where +he was presently joined by Mr. Touchwood, newly +attired, and in high spirits.</p> + +<p>“Here comes our supper!” he exclaimed.—“Sit +ye down, and let us see what Mrs. Dods has done +for us.—I profess, mistress, your plottie is excellent, +ever since I taught you to mix the spices in the +right proportion.”</p> + +<p>“I am glad the plottie pleases ye, sir—but I +think I kend gay weel how to make it before I saw +your honour—Maister Tirl can tell that, for mony +a browst of it I hae brewed lang syne for him and +the callant Valentine Bulmer.”</p> + +<p>This ill-timed observation extorted a groan from +Tyrrel; but the traveller, running on with his own +recollections, did not appear to notice his emotion.</p> + +<p>“You are a conceited old woman,” said Mr. +Touchwood; “how the devil should any one know +how to mix spices so well as he who has been where +they grow?—I have seen the sun ripening nutmegs +and cloves, and here, it can hardly fill a peasecod, by +Jupiter. Ah, Tyrrel, the merry nights we have +had at Smyrna!—Gad, I think the gammon and the +good wine taste all the better in a land where folks +hold them to be sinful indulgences—Gad, I believe +many a good Moslem is of the same opinion—that +same prohibition of their prophet's gives a flavour +to the ham, and a relish to the Cyprus.—Do you +remember old Cogia Hassein, with his green turban?—I +once played him a trick, and put a pint of +brandy into his sherbet. Egad, the old fellow took +care never to discover the cheat until he had got to +the bottom of the flagon, and then he strokes his<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_135" id="vol_ii_Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> +long white beard, and says, ‘Ullah Kerim,’—that +is, ‘Heaven is merciful,’ Mrs. Dods, Mr. Tyrrel +knows the meaning of it.—Ullah Kerim, says he, +after he had drunk about a gallon of brandy-punch!—Ullah +Kerim, says the hypocritical old rogue, as +if he had done the finest thing in the world!”</p> + +<p>“And what for no? What for shouldna the +honest man say a blessing after his drap punch?” +demanded Mrs. Dods; “it was better, I ween, than +blasting, and blawing, and swearing, as if folks +shouldna be thankful for the creature comforts.”</p> + +<p>“Well said, old Dame Dods,” replied the traveller; +“that is a right hostess's maxim, and worthy +of Mrs. Quickly herself. Here is to thee, and I pray +ye to pledge me before ye leave the room.”</p> + +<p>“Troth, I'll pledge naebody the night, Maister +Touchwood; for, what wi' the upcast and terror +that I got a wee while syne, and what wi' the bit +taste that I behoved to take of the plottie while I +was making it, my head is sair eneugh distressed +the night already.—Maister Tirl, the yellow room +is ready for ye when ye like; and, gentlemen, as +the morn is the Sabbath, I canna be keeping the +servant queans out of their beds to wait on ye ony +langer, for they will mak it an excuse for lying till +aught o'clock on the Lord's day. So, when your +plottie is done, I'll be muckle obliged to ye to +light the bedroom candles, and put out the double +moulds, and e'en show yoursells to your beds; for +douce folks, sic as the like of you, should set an +example by ordinary.—And so, gude-night to ye +baith.”</p> + +<p>“By my faith,” said Touchwood, as she withdrew, +“our dame turns as obstinate as a Pacha +with three tails!—We have her gracious permis<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_136" id="vol_ii_Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span>sion +to finish our mug, however; so here is to your +health once more, Mr. Tyrrel, wishing you a hearty +welcome to your own country.”</p> + +<p>“I thank you, Mr. Touchwood,” answered Tyrrel; +“and I return you the same good wishes, with, +as I sincerely hope, a much greater chance of their +being realized.—You relieved me, sir, at a time when +the villainy of an agent, prompted, as I have reason +to think, by an active and powerful enemy, occasioned +my being, for a time, pressed for funds.—I +made remittances to the <i>Ragion</i> you dealt with, to +acquit myself at least of the pecuniary part of my +obligation; but the bills were returned, because, it +was stated, you had left Smyrna.”</p> + +<p>“Very true—very true—left Smyrna, and here +I am in Scotland—as for the bills, we will speak +of them another time—something due for picking +me out of the gutter.”</p> + +<p>“I shall make no deduction on that account,” +said Tyrrel, smiling, though in no jocose mood; +“and I beg you not to mistake me. The circumstances +of embarrassment, under which you found +me at Smyrna, were merely temporary—I am most +able and willing to pay my debt; and, let me add, +I am most desirous to do so.”</p> + +<p>“Another time—another time,” said Mr. Touchwood—“time +enough before us, Mr. Tyrrel—besides, +at Smyrna, you talked of a lawsuit—law is +a lick-penny, Mr. Tyrrel—no counsellor like the +pound in purse.”</p> + +<p>“For my lawsuit,” said Tyrrel, “I am fully +provided.”</p> + +<p>“But have you good advice?—Have you good +advice?” said Touchwood; “answer me that.”</p> + +<p>“I have advised with my lawyers,” answered<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_137" id="vol_ii_Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> +Tyrrel, internally vexed to find that his friend was +much disposed to make his generosity upon the +former occasion a pretext for prying farther into his +affairs now than he thought polite or convenient.</p> + +<p>“With your counsel learned in the law—eh, +my dear boy? But the advice you should take is +of some travelled friend, well acquainted with +mankind and the world—some one that has lived +double your years, and is maybe looking out for +some bare young fellow that he may do a little good +to—one that might be willing to help you farther +than I can pretend to guess—for, as to your lawyer, +you get just your guinea's worth from him—not +even so much as the baker's bargain, thirteen to the +dozen.”</p> + +<p>“I think I should not trouble myself to go far in +search of a friend such as you describe,” said Tyrrel, +who could not affect to misunderstand the senior's +drift, “when I was near Mr. Peregrine Touchwood; +but the truth is, my affairs are at present so much +complicated with those of others, whose secrets I +have no right to communicate, that I cannot have +the advantage of consulting you, or any other friend. +It is possible I may be soon obliged to lay aside +this reserve, and vindicate myself before the whole +public. I will not fail, when that time shall arrive, +to take an early opportunity of confidential communication +with you.”</p> + +<p>“That is right—confidential is the word—No +person ever made a confidant of me who repented +it—Think what the Pacha might have made of it, +had he taken my advice, and cut through the +Isthmus of Suez.—Turk and Christian, men of all +tongues and countries, used to consult old Touchwood, +from the building of a mosque down to the<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_138" id="vol_ii_Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> +settling of an <i>agio</i>.—But come—Good-night—good-night.”</p> + +<p>So saying, he took up his bedroom light, and +extinguished one of those which stood on the table, +nodded to Tyrrel to discharge his share of the duty +imposed by Mrs. Dods with the same punctuality, +and they withdrew to their several apartments, +entertaining very different sentiments of each other.</p> + +<p>“A troublesome, inquisitive old gentleman,” said +Tyrrel to himself; “I remember him narrowly +escaping the bastinado at Smyrna, for thrusting his +advice on the Turkish cadi—and then I lie under +a considerable obligation to him, giving him a sort +of right to annoy me—Well, I must parry his +impertinence as I can.”</p> + +<p>“A shy cock this Frank Tyrrel,” thought the +traveller; “a very complete dodger!—But no matter—I +shall wind him, were he to double like a +fox—I am resolved to make his matters my own, +and if <i>I</i> cannot carry him through, I know not who +can.”</p> + +<p>Having formed this philanthropic resolution, Mr. +Touchwood threw himself into bed, which luckily +declined exactly at the right angle, and, full of self-complacency, +consigned himself to slumber.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_139" id="vol_ii_Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol_ii_CHAPTER_X" id="vol_ii_CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X.</h2> + +<h3>MEDIATION.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">————So, begone!<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We will not now be troubled with reply;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We offer fair, take it advisedly.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="citation"> +<i>King Henry IV. Part I.</i><br /> +</p> + + +<p>It had been the purpose of Tyrrel, by rising and +breakfasting early, to avoid again meeting Mr. +Touchwood, having upon his hands a matter in +which that officious gentleman's interference was +likely to prove troublesome. His character, he was +aware, had been assailed at the Spa in the most +public manner, and in the most public manner he +was resolved to demand redress, conscious that whatever +other important concerns had brought him +to Scotland, must necessarily be postponed to the +vindication of his honour. He was determined, +for this purpose, to go down to the rooms when the +company was assembled at the breakfast hour, and +had just taken his hat to set out, when he was +interrupted by Mrs. Dods, who, announcing “a gentleman +that was speering for him,” ushered into the +chamber a very fashionable young man in a military +surtout, covered with silk lace and fur, and wearing +a foraging-cap; a dress now too familiar to be distinguished, +but which at that time was used only by +geniuses of a superior order. The stranger was +neither handsome nor plain, but had in his appearance +a good deal of pretension, and the cool easy<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_140" id="vol_ii_Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> +superiority which belongs to high breeding. On +his part, he surveyed Tyrrel; and, as his appearance +differed, perhaps, from that for which the exterior +of the Cleikum Inn had prepared him, he abated +something of the air with which he had entered the +room, and politely announced himself as Captain +Jekyl, of the —— Guards, (presenting, at the same +time, his ticket.)</p> + +<p>“He presumed he spoke to Mr. Martigny?”</p> + +<p>“To Mr. Francis Tyrrel, sir,” replied Tyrrel, drawing +himself up—“Martigny was my mother's name—I +have never borne it.”</p> + +<p>“I am not here for the purpose of disputing that +point, Mr. Tyrrel, though I am not entitled to admit +what my principal's information leads him to doubt.”</p> + +<p>“Your principal, I presume, is Sir Bingo Binks?” +said Tyrrel. “I have not forgotten that there is an +unfortunate affair between us.”</p> + +<p>“I have not the honour to know Sir Bingo Binks,” +said Captain Jekyl. “I come on the part of the +Earl of Etherington.”</p> + +<p>Tyrrel stood silent for a moment, and then said, +“I am at a loss to know what the gentleman who +calls himself Earl of Etherington can have to say to +me, through the medium of such a messenger as +yourself, Captain Jekyl. I should have supposed +that, considering our unhappy relationship, and the +terms on which we stand towards each other, the +lawyers were the fitter negotiators between us.”</p> + +<p>“Sir,” said Captain Jekyl, “you are misunderstanding +my errand. I am come on no message of +hostile import from Lord Etherington—I am aware +of the connexion betwixt you, which would render +such an office altogether contradictory to common +sense and the laws of nature; and I assure you, I<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_141" id="vol_ii_Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> +would lay down my life rather than be concerned in +an affair so unnatural. I would act, if possible, as a +mediator betwixt you.”</p> + +<p>They had hitherto remained standing. Mr. Tyrrel +now offered his guest a seat; and, having assumed +one himself, he broke the awkward pause which +ensued by observing, “I should be happy, after +experiencing such a long course of injustice and +persecution from your friend, to learn, even at this +late period, Captain Jekyl, any thing which can +make me think better, either of him, or of his purpose +towards me and towards others.”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Tyrrel,” said Captain Jekyl, “you must +allow me to speak with candour. There is too great +a stake betwixt your brother and you to permit you +to be friends; but I do not see it is necessary that +you should therefore be mortal enemies.”</p> + +<p>“I am not my brother's enemy, Captain Jekyl,” +said Tyrrel—“I have never been so—His friend +I cannot be, and he knows but too well the insurmountable +barrier which his own conduct has placed +between us.”</p> + +<p>“I am aware,” said Captain Jekyl, slowly and +expressively, “generally, at least, of the particulars +of your unfortunate disagreement.”</p> + +<p>“If so,” said Tyrrel, colouring, “you must be +also aware with what extreme pain I feel myself +compelled to enter on such a subject with a total +stranger—a stranger, too, the friend and confidant +of one who——But I will not hurt your feelings, +Captain Jekyl, but rather endeavour to suppress +my own. In one word, I beg to be favoured with +the import of your communication, as I am obliged +to go down to the Spa this morning, in order to put to +rights some matters there which concern me nearly.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_142" id="vol_ii_Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span></p> + +<p>“If you mean the cause of your absence from an +appointment with Sir Bingo Binks,” said Captain +Jekyl, “the matter has been already completely +explained. I pulled down the offensive placard +with my own hand, and rendered myself responsible +for your honour to any one who should presume to +hold it in future doubt.”</p> + +<p>“Sir,” said Tyrrel, very much surprised, “I am +obliged to you for your intention, the more so as I +am ignorant how I have merited such interference. +It is not, however, quite satisfactory to me, because +I am accustomed to be the guardian of my own +honour.”</p> + +<p>“An easy task, I presume, in all cases, Mr. +Tyrrel,” answered Jekyl, “but peculiarly so in the +present, when you will find no one so hardy as to +assail it.—My interference, indeed, would have been +unjustifiably officious, had I not been at the moment +undertaking a commission implying confidential +intercourse with you. For the sake of my own character, +it became necessary to establish yours. I +know the truth of the whole affair from my friend, +the Earl of Etherington, who ought to thank +Heaven so long as he lives, that saved him on that +occasion from the commission of a very great +crime.”</p> + +<p>“Your friend, sir, has had, in the course of his +life, much to thank Heaven for, but more for which +to ask God's forgiveness.”</p> + +<p>“I am no divine, sir,” replied Captain Jekyl, +with spirit; “but I have been told that the same +may be said of most men alive.”</p> + +<p>“I, at least, cannot dispute it,” said Tyrrel; +“but, to proceed.—Have you found yourself at +liberty, Captain Jekyl, to deliver to the public the<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_143" id="vol_ii_Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> +whole particulars of a rencontre so singular as that +which took place between your friend and me?”</p> + +<p>“I have not, sir,” said Jekyl—“I judged it a +matter of great delicacy, and which each of you had +the like interest to preserve secret.”</p> + +<p>“May I beg to know, then,” said Tyrrel, “how it +was possible for you to vindicate my absence from +Sir Bingo's rendezvous otherwise?”</p> + +<p>“It was only necessary, sir, to pledge my word +as a gentleman and a man of honour, characters in +which I am pretty well known to the world, that, +to my certain personal knowledge, you were hurt in +an affair with a friend of mine, the further particulars +of which prudence required should be sunk into +oblivion. I think no one will venture to dispute my +word, or to require more than my assurance.—If +there should be any one very hard of faith on the +occasion, I shall find a way to satisfy him. In the +meanwhile, your outlawry has been rescinded in +the most honourable manner; and Sir Bingo, in consideration +of his share in giving rise to reports so +injurious to you, is desirous to drop all further +proceedings in his original quarrel, and hopes the +whole matter will be forgot and forgiven on all +sides.”</p> + +<p>“Upon my word, Captain Jekyl,” answered +Tyrrel, “you lay me under the necessity of acknowledging +obligation to you. You have cut a knot +which I should have found it very difficult to +unloose; for I frankly confess, that, while I was +determined not to remain under the stigma put upon +me, I should have had great difficulty in clearing +myself, without mentioning circumstances, which, +were it only for the sake of my father's memory, +should be buried in eternal oblivion. I hope your<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_144" id="vol_ii_Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> +friend feels no continued inconvenience from his +hurt?”</p> + +<p>“His lordship is nearly quite recovered,” said +Jekyl.</p> + +<p>“And I trust he did me the justice to own, that, +so far as my will was concerned, I am totally guiltless +of the purpose of hurting him?”</p> + +<p>“He does you full justice in that and every +thing else,” replied Jekyl; “regrets the impetuosity +of his own temper, and is determined to be on his +guard against it in future.”</p> + +<p>“That,” said Tyrrel, “is so far well; and now, +may I ask once more, what communication you have +to make to me on the part of your friend?—Were +it from any one but him, whom I have found so +uniformly false and treacherous, your own fairness +and candour would induce me to hope that this +unnatural quarrel might be in some sort ended by +your mediation.”</p> + +<p>“I then proceed, sir, under more favourable +auspices than I expected,” said Captain Jekyl, “to +enter on my commission.—You are about to commence +a lawsuit, Mr. Tyrrel, if fame does not wrong +you, for the purpose of depriving your brother of +his estate and title.”</p> + +<p>“The case is not fairly stated, Captain Jekyl,” +replied Tyrrel; “I commence a lawsuit, when I +do commence it, for the sake of ascertaining my +own just rights.”</p> + +<p>“It comes to the same thing eventually,” said +the mediator; “I am not called upon to decide +upon the justice of your claims, but they are, you +will allow, newly started. The late Countess of +Etherington died in possession—open and undoubted +possession—of her rank in society.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_145" id="vol_ii_Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span></p> + +<p>“If she had no real claim to it, sir,” replied +Tyrrel, “she had more than justice who enjoyed it +so long; and the injured lady whose claims were +postponed, had just so much less.—But this is no +point for you and me to discuss between us—it +must be tried elsewhere.”</p> + +<p>“Proofs, sir, of the strongest kind, will be necessary +to overthrow a right so well established in +public opinion as that of the present possessor of +the title of Etherington.”</p> + +<p>Tyrrel took a paper from his pocketbook, and, +handing it to Captain Jekyl, only answered, “I have +no thoughts of asking you to give up the cause of +your friend; but methinks the documents of which +I give you a list, may shake your opinion of it.”</p> + +<p>Captain Jekyl read, muttering to himself, “‘<i>Certificate +of marriage, by the Rev. Zadock Kemp, chaplain +to the British Embassy at Paris, between Marie +de Bellroche, Comptesse de Martigny, and the Right +Honourable John Lord Oakendale—Letters between +John Earl of Etherington and his lady, under the +title of Madame de Martigny—Certificate of baptism—Declaration +of the Earl of Etherington on +his death-bed.</i>’—All this is very well—but may I +ask you, Mr. Tyrrel, if it is really your purpose to +go to extremity with your brother?”</p> + +<p>“He has forgot that he is one—he has lifted his +hand against my life.”</p> + +<p>“You have shed his blood—twice shed it,” said +Jekyl; “the world will not ask which brother gave +the offence, but which received, which inflicted, the +severest wound.”</p> + +<p>“Your friend has inflicted one on me, sir,” said +Tyrrel, “that will bleed while I have the power of +memory.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_146" id="vol_ii_Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I understand you, sir,” said Captain Jekyl; +“you mean the affair of Miss Mowbray?”</p> + +<p>“Spare me on that subject, sir!” said Tyrrel. +“Hitherto I have disputed my most important +rights—rights which involved my rank in society, +my fortune, the honour of my mother—with something +like composure; but do not say more on the +topic you have touched upon, unless you would +have before you a madman!—Is it possible for you, +sir, to have heard even the outline of this story, +and to imagine that I can ever reflect on the cold-blooded +and most inhuman stratagem, which this +friend of yours prepared for two unfortunates, without”—He +started up, and walked impetuously +to and fro. “Since the Fiend himself interrupted +the happiness of perfect innocence, there was never +such an act of treachery—never such schemes of +happiness destroyed—never such inevitable misery +prepared for two wretches who had the idiocy to +repose perfect confidence in him!—Had there been +passion in his conduct, it had been the act of a man—a +wicked man, indeed, but still a human creature, +acting under the influence of human feelings—but +his was the deed of a calm, cold, calculating demon, +actuated by the basest and most sordid motives of +self-interest, joined, as I firmly believe, to an early +and inveterate hatred of one whose claims he considered +as at variance with his own.”</p> + +<p>“I am sorry to see you in such a temper,” said +Captain Jekyl, calmly; “Lord Etherington, I trust, +acted on very different motives than those you +impute to him; and if you will but listen to me, +perhaps something may be struck out which may +accommodate these unhappy disputes.”</p> + +<p>“Sir,” said Tyrrel, sitting down again, “I will<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_147" id="vol_ii_Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> +listen to you with calmness, as I would remain +calm under the probe of a surgeon tenting a festered +wound. But when you touch me to the +quick, when you prick the very nerve, you cannot +expect me to endure without wincing.”</p> + +<p>“I will endeavour, then, to be as brief in the +operation as I can,” replied Captain Jekyl, who +possessed the advantage of the most admirable +composure during the whole conference. “I conclude, +Mr. Tyrrel, that the peace, happiness, and +honour of Miss Mowbray, are dear to you?”</p> + +<p>“Who dare impeach her honour!” said Tyrrel, +fiercely; then checking himself, added, in a more +moderate tone, but one of deep feeling, “they are +dear to me, sir, as my eyesight.”</p> + +<p>“My friend holds them in equal regard,” said +the Captain; “and has come to the resolution of +doing her the most ample justice.”</p> + +<p>“He can do her justice no otherwise, than by +ceasing to haunt this neighbourhood, to think, to +speak, even to dream of her.”</p> + +<p>“Lord Etherington thinks otherwise,” said Captain +Jekyl; “he believes that if Miss Mowbray +has sustained any wrong at his hands, which, of +course, I am not called upon to admit, it will be +best repaired by the offer to share with her his +title, his rank, and his fortune.”</p> + +<p>“His title, rank, and fortune, sir, are as much a +falsehood as he is himself,” said Tyrrel, with violence—“Marry +Clara Mowbray? never!”</p> + +<p>“My friend's fortune, you will observe,” replied +Jekyl, “does not rest entirely upon the event of +the lawsuit with which you, Mr. Tyrrel, now +threaten him.—Deprive him, if you can, of the +Oakendale estate, he has still a large patrimony by<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_148" id="vol_ii_Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> +his mother; and besides, as to his marriage with +Clara Mowbray, he conceives, that unless it should +be the lady's wish to have the ceremony repeated +to which he is most desirous to defer his own opinion, +they have only to declare that it has already +passed between them.”</p> + +<p>“A trick, sir!” said Tyrrel, “a vile infamous trick! +of which the lowest wretch in Newgate would be +ashamed—the imposition of one person for another.”</p> + +<p>“Of that, Mr. Tyrrel, I have seen no evidence +whatever. The clergyman's certificate is clear—Francis +Tyrrel is united to Clara Mowbray in the +holy bands of wedlock—such is the tenor—there +is a copy—nay, stop one instant, if you please, sir. +You say there was an imposition in the case—I +have no doubt but you speak what you believe, and +what Miss Mowbray told you. She was surprised—forced +in some measure from the husband she +had just married—ashamed to meet her former +lover, to whom, doubtless, she had made many a +vow of love, and ne'er a true one—what wonder +that, unsupported by her bridegroom, she should +have changed her tone, and thrown all the blame +of her own inconstancy on the absent swain?—A +woman, at a pinch so critical, will make the most +improbable excuse, rather than be found guilty on +her own confession.”</p> + +<p>“There must be no jesting in this case,” said +Tyrrel, his cheek becoming pale, and his voice +altered with passion.</p> + +<p>“I am quite serious, sir,” replied Jekyl; “and +there is no law court in Britain that would take +the lady's word—all she has to offer, and that in +her own cause—against a whole body of evidence +direct and circumstantial, showing that she was by<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_149" id="vol_ii_Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> +her own free consent married to the gentleman who +now claims her hand.—Forgive me, sir—I see you +are much agitated—I do not mean to dispute your +right of believing what you think is most credible—I +only use the freedom of pointing out to you +the impression which the evidence is likely to make +on the minds of indifferent persons.”</p> + +<p>“Your friend,” answered Tyrrel, affecting a composure, +which, however, he was far from possessing, +“may think by such arguments to screen his +villainy; but it cannot avail him—the truth is +known to Heaven—it is known to me—and there +is, besides, one indifferent witness upon earth, who +can testify that the most abominable imposition +was practised on Miss Mowbray.”</p> + +<p>“You mean her cousin,—Hannah Irwin, I think, +is her name,” answered Jekyl; “you see I am fully +acquainted with all the circumstances of the case. +But where is Hannah Irwin to be found?”</p> + +<p>“She will appear, doubtless, in Heaven's good +time, and to the confusion of him who now imagines +the only witness of his treachery—the only one +who could tell the truth of this complicated +mystery—either no longer lives, or, at least, cannot +be brought forward against him, to the ruin of his +schemes. Yes, sir, that slight observation of yours +has more than explained to me why your friend, or, +to call him by his true name, Mr. Valentine Bulmer, +has not commenced his machinations sooner, and +also why he has commenced them now. He thinks +himself certain that Hannah Irwin is not now in +Britain, or to be produced in a court of justice—he +may find himself mistaken.”</p> + +<p>“My friend seems perfectly confident of the issue +of his cause,” answered Jekyl; “but for the lady's<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_150" id="vol_ii_Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> +sake, he is most unwilling to prosecute a suit which +must be attended with so many circumstances of +painful exposure.”</p> + +<p>“Exposure, indeed!” answered Tyrrel; “thanks +to the traitor who laid a mine so fearful, and who +now affects to be reluctant to fire it.—Oh! how I +am bound to curse that affinity that restrains my +hands! I would be content to be the meanest and +vilest of society, for one hour of vengeance on this +unexampled hypocrite!—One thing is certain, sir—your +friend will have no living victim. His persecution +will kill Clara Mowbray, and fill up the +cup of his crimes, with the murder of one of the +sweetest——I shall grow a woman, if I say more +on the subject!”</p> + +<p>“My friend,” said Jekyl, “since you like best +to have him so defined, is as desirous as you can be +to spare the lady's feelings; and with that view, +not reverting to former passages, he has laid before +her brother a proposal of alliance, with which Mr. +Mowbray is highly pleased.”</p> + +<p>“Ha!” said Tyrrel, starting—“And the +lady?”—</p> + +<p>“And the lady so far proved favourable, as +to consent that Lord Etherington shall visit +Shaws-Castle.”</p> + +<p>“Her consent must have been extorted!” +exclaimed Tyrrel.</p> + +<p>“It was given voluntarily,” said Jekyl, “as I +am led to understand; unless, perhaps, in so far as +the desire to veil these very unpleasing transactions +may have operated, I think naturally enough, to +induce her to sink them in eternal secrecy, by +accepting Lord Etherington's hand.—I see, sir, I +give you pain, and am sorry for it.—I have no title<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_151" id="vol_ii_Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> +to call upon you for any exertion of generosity; +but, should such be Miss Mowbray's sentiments, is +it too much to expect of you, that you will not +compromise the lady's honour by insisting upon +former claims, and opening up disreputable transactions +so long past?”</p> + +<p>“Captain Jekyl,” said Tyrrel, solemnly, “I have +no claims. Whatever I might have had, were cancelled +by the act of treachery through which your +friend endeavoured too successfully to supplant me. +Were Clara Mowbray as free from her pretended +marriage as law could pronounce her, still with me—<i>me</i>, +at least, of all men in the world—the +obstacle must ever remain, that the nuptial benediction +has been pronounced over her, and the man +whom I must for once call <i>brother</i>.”—He stopped at +that word, as if it had cost him agony to pronounce +it, and then resumed:—“No, sir, I have no views +of personal advantage in this matter—they have +been long annihilated—But I will not permit Clara +Mowbray to become the wife of a villain—I will +watch over her with thoughts as spotless as those +of her guardian angel. I first persuaded her +to quit the path of duty<a name="vol_ii_FNanchor_B_14" id="vol_ii_FNanchor_B_14"></a><a href="#vol_ii_Footnote_B_14" class="fnanchor">[B]</a>—I, of all men who +live, am bound to protect her from the misery—from +the guilt—which must attach to her as this +man's wife. I will never believe that she wishes it—I +will never believe, that in calm mind and sober +reason, she can be brought to listen to such a guilty +proposal.—But her mind—alas!—is not of the +firm texture it once could boast; and your friend +knows well how to press on the spring of every +passion that can agitate and alarm her. Threats of +exposure may extort her consent to this most unfit<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_152" id="vol_ii_Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span>ting +match, if they do not indeed drive her to +suicide, which I think the most likely termination. +I will, therefore, be strong where she is weak.—Your +friend, sir, must at least strip his proposals of +their fine gilding. I will satisfy Mr. Mowbray of +St. Ronan's of his false pretences, both to rank and +fortune; and I rather think he will protect his sister +against the claim of a needy profligate, though +he might be dazzled with the alliance of a wealthy +peer.”</p> + +<p>“Your cause, sir, is not yet won,” answered +Jekyl; “and when it is, your brother will retain +property enough to entitle him to marry a greater +match than Miss Mowbray, besides the large estate +of Nettlewood, to which that alliance must give +him right. But I would wish to make some accommodation +between you if it were possible. You +profess, Mr. Tyrrel, to lay aside all selfish wishes +and views in this matter, and to look entirely to +Miss Mowbray's safety and happiness?”</p> + +<p>“Such, upon my honour, is the exclusive purpose +of my interference—I would give all I am worth +to procure her an hour of quiet—for happiness she +will never know again.”</p> + +<p>“Your anticipations of Miss Mowbray's distress,” +said Jekyl, “are, I understand, founded upon the +character of my friend. You think him a man of +light principle, and because he overreached you in +a juvenile intrigue, you conclude that now, in his +more steady and advanced years, the happiness of +the lady in whom you are so much interested ought +not to be trusted to him?”</p> + +<p>“There may be other grounds,” said Tyrrel, hastily; +“but you may argue upon those you have +named, as sufficient to warrant my interference.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_153" id="vol_ii_Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span></p> + +<p>“How, then, if I should propose some accommodation +of this nature? Lord Etherington does +not pretend to the ardour of a passionate lover. +He lives much in the world, and has no desire to +quit it. Miss Mowbray's health is delicate—her +spirits variable—and retirement would most probably +be her choice.—Suppose—I am barely putting +a supposition—suppose that a marriage between +two persons so circumstanced were rendered necessary +or advantageous to both—suppose that such +a marriage were to secure to one party a large +estate—were to insure the other against all the +consequences of an unpleasant exposure—still, both +ends might be obtained by the mere ceremony of +marriage passing between them. There might be +a previous contract of separation, with suitable provisions +for the lady, and stipulations, by which the +husband should renounce all claim to her society. +Such things happen every season, if not on the +very marriage day, yet before the honeymoon is +over.—Wealth and freedom would be the lady's, +and as much rank as you, sir, supposing your claims +just, may think proper to leave them.”</p> + +<p>There was a long pause, during which Tyrrel +underwent many changes of countenance, which +Jekyl watched carefully, without pressing him for +an answer. At length he replied, “There is much +in your proposal, Captain Jekyl, which I might be +tempted to accede to, as one manner of unloosing +this Gordian knot, and a compromise by which Miss +Mowbray's future tranquillity would be in some +degree provided for. But I would rather trust a +fanged adder than your friend, unless I saw him +fettered by the strongest ties of interest. Besides, +I am certain the unhappy lady could never survive<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_154" id="vol_ii_Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> +the being connected with him in this manner, +though but for the single moment when they should +appear together at the altar. There are other +objections”——</p> + +<p>He checked himself, paused, and then proceeded +in a calm and self-possessed tone. “You think, +perhaps, even yet, that I have some selfish and +interested views in this business; and probably you +may feel yourself entitled to entertain the same +suspicion towards me, which I avowedly harbour +respecting every proposition which originates with +your friend.—I cannot help it—I can but meet +these disadvantageous impressions with plain dealing +and honesty; and it is in the spirit of both +that <i>I</i> make a proposition to <i>you</i>.—Your friend is +attached to rank, fortune, and worldly advantages, in +the usual proportion, at least, in which they are pursued +by men of the world—this you must admit, +and I will not offend you by supposing more.”</p> + +<p>“I know few people who do not desire such +advantages,” answered Captain Jekyl; “and I +frankly own, that he affects no particular degree of +philosophic indifference respecting them.”</p> + +<p>“Be it so,” answered Tyrrel. “Indeed, the proposal +you have just made indicates that his pretended +claim on this young lady's hand is entirely, or almost +entirely, dictated by motives of interest, since you +are of opinion that he would be contented to separate +from her society on the very marriage day, +provided that, in doing so, he was assured of the +Nettlewood property.”</p> + +<p>“My proposition was unauthorized by my principal,” +answered Jekyl; “but it is needless to deny, +that its very tenor implies an idea, on my part, that +Lord Etherington is no passionate lover.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_155" id="vol_ii_Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Well then,” answered Tyrrel. “Consider, sir, +and let him consider well, that the estate and rank +he now assumes, depend upon my will and pleasure—that, +if I prosecute the claims of which that scroll +makes you aware, he must descend from the rank +of an earl into that of a commoner, stripped of by +much the better half of his fortune—a diminution +which would be far from compensated by the estate +of Nettlewood, even if he could obtain it, which +could only be by means of a lawsuit, precarious +in the issue, and most dishonourable in its very +essence.”</p> + +<p>“Well, sir,” replied Jekyl, “I perceive your +argument—What is your proposal?”</p> + +<p>“That I will abstain from prosecuting my claim +on those honours and that property—that I will +leave Valentine Bulmer in possession of his usurped +title and ill-deserved wealth—that I will bind +myself under the strongest penalties never to disturb +his possession of the Earldom of Etherington +and estates belonging to it—on condition that he +allows the woman, whose peace of mind he has +ruined for ever, to walk through the world in her +wretchedness, undisturbed either by his marriage-suit, +or by any claim founded upon his own most +treacherous conduct—in short, that he forbear to +molest Clara Mowbray, either by his presence, word, +letter, or through the intervention of a third party, +and be to her in future as if he did not exist.”</p> + +<p>“This is a singular offer,” said the Captain; “may +I ask if you are serious in making it?”</p> + +<p>“I am neither surprised nor offended at the question,” +said Tyrrel. “I am a man, sir, like others, +and affect no superiority to that which all men +desire the possession of—a certain consideration<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_156" id="vol_ii_Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> +and station in society. I am no romantic fool to +undervalue the sacrifice I am about to make. I +renounce a rank, which is and ought to be the more +valuable to me, because it involves (he blushed as he +spoke) the fame of an honoured mother—because, +in failing to claim it, I disobey the commands of a +dying father, who wished that by doing so I should +declare to the world the penitence which hurried +him perhaps to the grave, and the making which +public he considered might be some atonement for +his errors. From an honoured place in the land, I +descend voluntarily to become a nameless exile; +for, once certain that Clara Mowbray's peace is +assured, Britain no longer holds me.—All this I +do, sir, not in any idle strain of overheated feeling, +but seeing, and knowing, and dearly valuing, every +advantage which I renounce—yet I do it, and do +it willingly, rather than be the cause of farther evil +to one, on whom I have already brought too—too +much.”</p> + +<p>His voice, in spite of his exertions, faltered as he +concluded the sentence, and a big drop which rose +to his eye, required him for the moment to turn +towards the window.</p> + +<p>“I am ashamed of this childishness,” he said, +turning again to Captain Jekyl; “if it excites your +ridicule, sir, let it be at least a proof of my +sincerity.”</p> + +<p>“I am far from entertaining such sentiments,” +said Jekyl, respectfully—for, in a long train of +fashionable follies, his heart had not been utterly +hardened—“very far, indeed. To a proposal so +singular as yours, I cannot be expected to answer—except +thus far—the character of the peerage is, +I believe, indelible, and cannot be resigned or<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_157" id="vol_ii_Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> +assumed at pleasure. If you are really Earl of +Etherington, I cannot see how your resigning the +right may avail my friend.”</p> + +<p>“You, sir, it might not avail,” said Tyrrel, +gravely, “because you, perhaps, might scorn to exercise +a right, or hold a title, that was not legally +yours. But your friend will have no such compunctious +visitings. If he can act the Earl to the +eye of the world, he has already shown that his +honour and conscience will be easily satisfied.”</p> + +<p>“May I take a copy of the memorandum containing +this list of documents,” said Captain Jekyl, “for +the information of my constituent?”</p> + +<p>“The paper is at your pleasure, sir,” replied +Tyrrel; “it is itself but a copy.—But Captain +Jekyl,” he added, with a sarcastic expression, “is, +it would seem, but imperfectly let into his friend's +confidence—he may be assured his principal is completely +acquainted with the contents of this paper, +and has accurate copies of the deeds to which it +refers.”</p> + +<p>“I think it scarce possible,” said Jekyl, angrily.</p> + +<p>“Possible and certain!” answered Tyrrel. “My +father, shortly preceding his death, sent me—with +a most affecting confession of his errors—this list +of papers, and acquainted me that he had made a +similar communication to your friend. That he did +so I have no doubt, however Mr. Bulmer may have +thought proper to disguise the circumstance in communication +with you. One circumstance, among +others, stamps at once his character, and confirms +me of the danger he apprehended by my return to +Britain. He found means, through a scoundrelly +agent, who had made me the usual remittances +from my father while alive, to withhold those which<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_158" id="vol_ii_Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> +were necessary for my return from the Levant, and +I was obliged to borrow from a friend.”</p> + +<p>“Indeed?” replied Jekyl. “It is the first time +I have heard of these papers—May I enquire where +the originals are, and in whose custody?”</p> + +<p>“I was in the East,” answered Tyrrel, “during +my father's last illness, and these papers were by +him deposited with a respectable commercial house, +with which he was connected. They were enclosed +in a cover directed to me, and that again in an +envelope, addressed to the principal person in their +firm.”</p> + +<p>“You must be sensible,” said Captain Jekyl, +“that I can scarcely decide on the extraordinary +offer which you have been pleased to make, of +resigning the claim founded on these documents, +unless I had a previous opportunity of examining +them.”</p> + +<p>“You shall have that opportunity—I will write +to have them sent down by the post—they lie but +in small compass.”</p> + +<p>“This, then,” said the Captain, “sums up all that +can be said at present.—Supposing these proofs +to be of unexceptionable authenticity, I certainly +would advise my friend Etherington to put to sleep +a claim so important as yours, even at the expense +of resigning his matrimonial speculation—I presume +you design to abide by your offer?”</p> + +<p>“I am not in the habit of altering my mind—still +less of retracting my word,” said Tyrrel, somewhat +haughtily.</p> + +<p>“We part friends, I hope?” said Jekyl, rising, +and taking his leave.</p> + +<p>“Not enemies certainly, Captain Jekyl. I will +own to you I owe you my thanks, for extricating<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_159" id="vol_ii_Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> +me from that foolish affair at the Well—nothing +could have put me to more inconvenience than the +necessity of following to extremity a frivolous +quarrel at the present moment.”</p> + +<p>“You will come down among us, then?” said +Jekyl.</p> + +<p>“I certainly shall not wish to appear to hide +myself,” answered Tyrrel; “it is a circumstance +might be turned against me—there is a party who +will avail himself of every advantage. I have but +one path, Captain Jekyl—that of truth and honour.”</p> + +<p>Captain Jekyl bowed, and took his leave. So +soon as he was gone, Tyrrel locked the door of the +apartment, and drawing from his bosom a portrait, +gazed on it with a mixture of sorrow and tenderness, +until the tears dropped from his eye.</p> + +<p>It was the picture of Clara Mowbray, such as he +had known her in the days of their youthful love, +and taken by himself, whose early turn for painting +had already developed itself. The features of the +blooming girl might be yet traced in the fine countenance +of the more matured original. But what was +now become of the glow which had shaded her +cheek?—what of the arch, yet subdued pleasantry, +which lurked in the eye?—what of the joyous +content, which composed every feature to the expression +of an Euphrosyne?—Alas! these were long +fled!—Sorrow had laid his hand upon her—the +purple light of youth was quenched—the glance of +innocent gaiety was exchanged for looks now moody +with ill-concealed care, now animated by a spirit of +reckless and satirical observation.</p> + +<p>“What a wreck! what a wreck!” exclaimed +Tyrrel; “and all of one wretch's making.—Can I +put the last hand to the work, and be her murderer<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_160" id="vol_ii_Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> +outright? I cannot—I cannot!—I will be strong +in the resolve I have formed—I will sacrifice all—rank—station—fortune—and +fame. Revenge!—Revenge +itself, the last good left me—revenge +itself I will sacrifice, to obtain for her such tranquillity +as she may be yet capable to enjoy.”</p> + +<p>In this resolution he sat down, and wrote a letter +to the commercial house with whom the documents +of his birth, and other relative papers, were deposited, +requesting that the packet containing them +should be forwarded to him through the post-office.</p> + +<p>Tyrrel was neither unambitious, nor without those +sentiments respecting personal consideration, which +are usually united with deep feeling and an ardent +mind. It was with a trembling hand, and a watery +eye, but with a heart firmly resolved, that he sealed +and dispatched the letter; a step towards the +resignation, in favour of his mortal enemy, of that +rank and condition in life, which was his own by +right of inheritance, but had so long hung in doubt +betwixt them.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_161" id="vol_ii_Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol_ii_CHAPTER_XI" id="vol_ii_CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI.</h2> + +<h3>INTRUSION.</h3> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>By my troth, I will go with thee to the lane's-end!—I am a kind +of burr—I shall stick.</p></div> + +<p class="citation"> +<i>Measure for Measure.</i><br /> +</p> + + +<p>It was now far advanced in autumn. The dew +lay thick on the long grass, where it was touched +by the sun; but where the sward lay in shadow, it +was covered with hoar frost, and crisped under +Jekyl's foot, as he returned through the woods of St. +Ronan's. The leaves of the ash-trees detached +themselves from the branches, and, without an air +of wind, fell spontaneously on the path. The mists +still lay lazily upon the heights, and the huge old +tower of St. Ronan's was entirely shrouded with +vapour, except where a sunbeam, struggling with +the mist, penetrated into its wreath so far as to +show a projecting turret upon one of the angles of +the old fortress, which, long a favourite haunt of the +raven, was popularly called the Corbie's Tower. +Beneath, the scene was open and lightsome, and the +robin redbreast was chirping his best, to atone for +the absence of all other choristers. The fine foliage +of autumn was seen in many a glade, running up +the sides of each little ravine, russet-hued and golden-specked, +and tinged frequently with the red hues +of the mountain-ash; while here and there a huge<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_162" id="vol_ii_Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> +old fir, the native growth of the soil, flung his broad +shadow over the rest of the trees, and seemed to +exult in the permanence of his dusky livery over +the more showy, but transitory brilliance by which +he was surrounded.</p> + +<p>Such is the scene, which, so often described in +prose and in poetry, yet seldom loses its effect upon +the ear or upon the eye, and through which we +wander with a strain of mind congenial to the +decline of the year. There are few who do not feel +the impression; and even Jekyl, though bred to far +different pursuits than those most favourable to +such contemplation, relaxed his pace to admire the +uncommon beauty of the landscape.</p> + +<p>Perhaps, also, he was in no hurry to rejoin the +Earl of Etherington, towards whose service he felt +himself more disinclined since his interview with +Tyrrel. It was clear that that nobleman had not +fully reposed in his friend the confidence promised; +he had not made him aware of the existence of those +important documents of proof, on which the whole +fate of his negotiation appeared now to hinge, and +in so far had deceived him. Yet, when he pulled +from his pocket, and re-read Lord Etherington's +explanatory letter, Jekyl could not help being more +sensible than he had been on the first perusal, how +much the present possessor of that title felt alarmed +at his brother's claims; and he had some compassion +for the natural feeling that must have rendered +him shy of communicating at once the very worst +view of his case, even to his most confidential friend. +Upon the whole, he remembered that Lord Etherington +had been his benefactor to an unusual extent; +that, in return, he had promised the young nobleman +his active and devoted assistance, in extricating<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_163" id="vol_ii_Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> +him from the difficulties with which he seemed +at present surrounded; that, in quality of his confidant, +he had become acquainted with the most +secret transactions of his life; and that it could +only be some very strong cause indeed which could +justify breaking off from him at this moment. +Yet he could not help wishing either that his +own obligations had been less, his friend's cause +better, or, at least, the friend himself more worthy +of assistance.</p> + +<p>“A beautiful morning, sir, for such a foggy, d——d +climate as this,” said a voice close by Jekyl's ear, +which made him at once start out of his contemplation. +He turned half round, and beside him +stood our honest friend Touchwood, his throat +muffled in his large Indian handkerchief, huge +gouty shoes thrust upon his feet, his bobwig well +powdered, and the gold-headed cane in his hand, +carried upright as a sergeant's halberd. One glance +of contemptuous survey entitled Jekyl, according +to his modish ideas, to rank the old gentleman as +a regular-built quiz, and to treat him as the young +gentlemen of his Majesty's Guards think themselves +entitled to use every unfashionable variety of the +human species. A slight inclination of a bow, and +a very cold “You have the advantage of me, sir,” +dropped as it were unconsciously from his tongue, +were meant to repress the old gentleman's advances, +and moderate his ambition to be hail fellow well met +with his betters. But Mr. Touchwood was callous +to the intended rebuke; he had lived too much at +large upon the world, and was far too confident of +his own merits, to take a repulse easily, or to permit +his modesty to interfere with any purpose which +he had formed.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_164" id="vol_ii_Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Advantage of you, sir?” he replied; “I have +lived too long in the world not to keep all the +advantages I have, and get all I can—and I reckon +it one that I have overtaken you, and shall have the +pleasure of your company to the Well.”</p> + +<p>“I should but interrupt your worthier meditations, +sir,” said the other; “besides, I am a modest +young man, and think myself fit for no better +company than my own—moreover, I walk slow—very +slow.—Good morning to you, Mr. A—A—I +believe my treacherous memory has let slip your +name, sir.”</p> + +<p>“My name!—Why your memory must have +been like Pat Murtough's greyhound, that let the +hare go before he caught it. You never heard my +name in your life. Touchwood is my name. What +d'ye think of it, now you know it?”</p> + +<p>“I am really no connoisseur in surnames,” +answered Jekyl: “and it is quite the same to me +whether you call yourself Touchwood or Touchstone. +Don't let me keep you from walking on, +sir. You will find breakfast far advanced at the +Well, sir, and your walk has probably given you an +appetite.”</p> + +<p>“Which will serve me to luncheon-time, I promise +you,” said Touchwood; “I always drink my +coffee as soon as my feet are in my pabouches—it's +the way all over the East. Never trust my breakfast +to their scalding milk-and-water at the Well, +I assure you; and for walking slow, I have had a +touch of the gout.”</p> + +<p>“Have you,” said Jekyl; “I am sorry for that; +because, if you have no mind to breakfast, I have—and +so, Mr. Touchstone, good-morrow to you.”</p> + +<p>But, although the young soldier went off at double<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_165" id="vol_ii_Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> +quick time, his pertinacious attendant kept close by +his side, displaying an activity which seemed inconsistent +with his make and his years, and talking +away the whole time, so as to show that his lungs +were not in the least degree incommoded by the +unusual rapidity of motion.</p> + +<p>“Nay, young gentleman, if you are for a good +smart walk, I am for you, and the gout may be +d—d. You are a lucky fellow to have youth on +your side; but yet, so far as between the Aultoun +and the Well, I think I could walk you for your +sum, barring running—all heel and toe—equal +weight, and I would match Barclay himself for a +mile.”</p> + +<p>“Upon my word, you are a gay old gentleman!” +said Jekyl, relaxing his pace; “and if we must +be fellow-travellers, though I can see no great +occasion for it, I must even shorten sail for you.”</p> + +<p>So saying, and as if another means of deliverance +had occurred to him, he slackened his pace, took +out a morocco case of cigars, and, lighting one +with his <i>briquet</i>, said, while he walked on, and +bestowed as much of its fragrance as he could +upon the face of his intrusive companion, “Vergeben +sie, mein herr—ich bin erzogen in kaiserlicher +dienst—muss rauchen ein kleine wenig.”<a name="vol_ii_FNanchor_6_6" id="vol_ii_FNanchor_6_6"></a><a href="#vol_ii_Footnote_6_6" class="fnanchor">[6]</a></p> + +<p>“Rauchen sie immer fort,” said Touchwood, +producing a huge meerschaum, which, suspended +by a chain from his neck, lurked in the bosom of +his coat, “habe auch mein pfeichen—Sehen sie +den lieben topf!”<a name="vol_ii_FNanchor_7_7" id="vol_ii_FNanchor_7_7"></a><a href="#vol_ii_Footnote_7_7" class="fnanchor">[7]</a> and he began to return the<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_166" id="vol_ii_Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> +smoke, if not the fire, of his companion, in full +volumes, and with interest.</p> + +<p>“The devil take the twaddle,” said Jekyl to +himself, “he is too old and too fat to be treated +after the manner of Professor Jackson; and, on +my life, I cannot tell what to make of him.—He +is a residenter too—I must tip him the cold +shoulder, or he will be pestering me eternally.”</p> + +<p>Accordingly, he walked on, sucking his cigar, +and apparently in as abstracted a mood as Mr. +Cargill himself, without paying the least attention +to Touchwood, who, nevertheless, continued talking, +as if he had been addressing the most attentive +listener in Scotland, whether it were the favourite +nephew of a cross, old, rich bachelor, or the aid-de-camp +of some old rusty firelock of a general, who +tells stories of the American war.</p> + +<p>“And so, sir, I can put up with any companion at +a pinch, for I have travelled in all sorts of ways, +from a caravan down to a carrier's cart; but the +best society is the best every where; and I am +happy I have fallen in with a gentleman who suits +me so well as you.—That grave, steady attention +of yours reminds me of Elfi Bey—you might talk +to him in English, or any thing he understood least +of—you might have read Aristotle to Elfi, and not +a muscle would he stir—give him his pipe, and he +would sit on his cushion with a listening air as if +he took in every word of what you said.”</p> + +<p>Captain Jekyl threw away the remnant of his +cigar, with a little movement of pettishness, and +began to whistle an opera air.</p> + +<p>“There again, now!—That is just so like the +Marquis of Roccombole, another dear friend of +mine, that whistles all the time you talk to him<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_167" id="vol_ii_Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span>—He +says he learned it in the Reign of Terror, when +a man was glad to whistle to show his throat was +whole. And, talking of great folk, what do you +think of this affair between Lord Etherington and +his brother, or cousin, as some folk call him?”</p> + +<p>Jekyl absolutely started at the question; a degree +of emotion, which, had it been witnessed by any of +his fashionable friends, would for ever have ruined +his pretensions to rank in the first order.</p> + +<p>“What affair?” he asked, so soon as he could +command a certain degree of composure.</p> + +<p>“Why, you know the news surely? Francis +Tyrrel, whom all the company voted a coward the +other day, turns out as brave a fellow as any of us; +for, instead of having run away to avoid having his +own throat cut by Sir Bingo Binks, he was at the +very moment engaged in a gallant attempt to murder +his elder brother, or his more lawful brother, or +his cousin, or some such near relation.”</p> + +<p>“I believe you are misinformed, sir,” said Jekyl +dryly, and then resumed, as deftly as he could, his +proper character of a pococurante.</p> + +<p>“I am told,” continued Touchwood, “one Jekyl +acted as a second to them both on the occasion—a +proper fellow, sir—one of those fine gentlemen +whom we pay for polishing the pavement in Bond +Street, and looking at a thick shoe and a pair of +worsted stockings, as if the wearer were none of +their paymasters. However, I believe the Commander-in-Chief +is like to discard him when he +hears what has happened.”</p> + +<p>“Sir!” said Jekyl, fiercely—then, recollecting +the folly of being angry with an original of his +companion's description, he proceeded more coolly, +“You are misinformed—Captain Jekyl knew noth<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_168" id="vol_ii_Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span>ing +of any such matter as you refer to—you talk +of a person you know nothing of—Captain Jekyl +is——(Here he stopped a little, scandalized, perhaps, +at the very idea of vindicating himself to such +a personage from such a charge.)</p> + +<p>“Ay, ay,” said the traveller, filling up the chasm +in his own way, “he is not worth our talking of, +certainly—but I believe he knew as much of the +matter as either you or I do, for all that.”</p> + +<p>“Sir, this is either a very great mistake, or wilful +impertinence,” answered the officer. “However +absurd or intrusive you may be, I cannot allow you, +either in ignorance or incivility, to use the name +of Captain Jekyl with disrespect.—I am Captain +Jekyl, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Very like, very like,” said Touchwood, with the +most provoking indifference; “I guessed as much +before.”</p> + +<p>“Then, sir, you may guess what is likely to follow, +when a gentleman hears himself unwarrantably +and unjustly slandered,” replied Captain Jekyl, surprised +and provoked that his annunciation of name +and rank seemed to be treated so lightly. “I advise +you, sir, not to proceed too far upon the immunities +of your age and insignificance.”</p> + +<p>“I never presume farther than I have good reason +to think necessary, Captain Jekyl,” answered +Touchwood, with great composure. “I am too +old, as you say, for any such idiotical business as +a duel, which no nation I know of practises but our +silly fools of Europe—and then, as for your switch, +which you are grasping with so much dignity, that +is totally out of the question. Look you, young +gentleman; four-fifths of my life have been spent +among men who do not set a man's life at the value<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_169" id="vol_ii_Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span> +of a button on his collar—every person learns, in +such cases, to protect himself as he can; and whoever +strikes me must stand to the consequences. I +have always a brace of bull-dogs about me, which +put age and youth on a level. So suppose me +horsewhipped, and pray, at the same time, suppose +yourself shot through the body. The same exertion +of imagination will serve for both purposes.”</p> + +<p>So saying, he exhibited a very handsome, highly +finished, and richly-mounted pair of pistols.</p> + +<p>“Catch me without my tools,” said he, significantly +buttoning his coat over the arms, which +were concealed in a side-pocket, ingeniously contrived +for that purpose. “I see you do not know +what to make of me,” he continued, in a familiar +and confidential tone; “but, to tell you the truth, +everybody that has meddled in this St. Ronan's +business is a little off the hooks—something of +a <i>tête exaltée</i>, in plain words, a little crazy, or so; +and I do not affect to be much wiser than other +people.”</p> + +<p>“Sir,” said Jekyl, “your manners and discourse +are so unprecedented, that I must ask your meaning +plainly and decidedly—Do you mean to insult +me or no?”</p> + +<p>“No insult at all, young gentleman—all fair +meaning, and above board—I only wished to let +you know what the world may say, that is all.”</p> + +<p>“Sir,” said Jekyl, hastily, “the world may tell +what lies it pleases; but I was not present at the +rencontre between Etherington and Mr. Tyrrel—I +was some hundred miles off.”</p> + +<p>“There now,” said Touchwood, “there <i>was</i> a rencontre +between them—the very thing I wanted to +know.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_170" id="vol_ii_Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Sir,” said Jekyl, aware too late that, in his +haste to vindicate himself, he had committed his +friend, “I desire you will found nothing on an +expression hastily used to vindicate myself from +a false aspersion—I only meant to say, if there +was an affair such as you talk of, I knew nothing +of it.”</p> + +<p>“Never mind—never mind—I shall make no +bad use of what I have learned,” said Touchwood. +“Were you to eat your words with the best fish-sauce, +(and that is Burgess's,) I have got all the +information from them I wanted.”</p> + +<p>“You are strangely pertinacious, sir,” replied +Jekyl.</p> + +<p>“O, a rock, a piece of flint for that—What I +have learned, I have learned, but I will make no +bad use of it.—Hark ye, Captain, I have no malice +against your friend—perhaps the contrary—but he +is in a bad course, sir—has kept a false reckoning, +for as deep as he thinks himself; and I tell you so, +because I hold you (your finery out of the question) +to be, as Hamlet says, indifferent honest; but, if +you were not, why necessity is necessity; and a +man will take a Bedouin for his guide in the desert, +whom he would not trust with an aspar in the +cultivated field; so I think of reposing some confidence +in you—have not made up my mind yet, +though.”</p> + +<p>“On my word, sir, I am greatly flattered both +by your intentions and your hesitation,” said Captain +Jekyl. “You were pleased to say just now, +that every one concerned with these matters was +something particular.”</p> + +<p>“Ay, ay—something crazy—a little mad, or so. +That was what I said, and I can prove it.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_171" id="vol_ii_Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I should be glad to hear the proof,” said Jekyl—“I +hope you do not except yourself?”</p> + +<p>“Oh! by no means,” answered Touchwood; “I +am one of the maddest old boys ever slept out of +straw, or went loose. But you can put fishing +questions in your turn, Captain, I see that—you +would fain know how much, or how little, I am in +all these secrets. Well, that is as hereafter may be. +In the meantime, here are my proofs.—Old Scrogie +Mowbray was mad, to like the sound of Mowbray +better than that of Scrogie; young Scrogie was +mad, not to like it as well. The old Earl of Etherington +was not sane when he married a French +wife in secret, and devilish mad indeed when he +married an English one in public. Then for the +good folk here, Mowbray of St. Ronan's is cracked, +when he wishes to give his sister to he knows not precisely +whom: She is a fool not to take him, because +she <i>does</i> know who he is, and what has been +between them; and your friend is maddest of all, +who seeks her under so heavy a penalty:—and +you and I, Captain, go mad gratis, for company's +sake, when we mix ourselves with such a mess of +folly and frenzy.”</p> + +<p>“Really, sir, all that you have said is an absolute +riddle to me,” replied the embarrassed Jekyl.</p> + +<p>“Riddles may be read,” said Touchwood, nodding; +“if you have any desire to read mine, pray, +take notice, that this being our first interview, I +have exerted myself <i>faire les frais du conversation</i>, +as Jack Frenchman says; if you want another, you +may come to Mrs. Dods's at the Cleikum Inn, any +day before Saturday, at four precisely, when you +will find none of your half-starved, long-limbed +bundles of bones, which you call poultry at the<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_172" id="vol_ii_Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> +table-d'hôte, but a right Chitty-gong fowl!—I got +Mrs. Dods the breed from old Ben Vandewash, the +Dutch broker—stewed to a minute, with rice and +mushrooms.—If you can eat without a silver fork, +and your appetite serves you, you shall be welcome—that's +all.—So, good morning to you, good master +lieutenant, for a captain of the Guards is but a +lieutenant after all.”</p> + +<p>So saying, and ere Jekyl could make any answer, +the old gentleman turned short off into a path +which led to the healing fountain, branching away +from that which conducted to the Hotel.</p> + +<p>Uncertain with whom he had been holding a +conversation so strange, Jekyl remained looking +after him, until his attention was roused by a little +boy, who crept out from an adjoining thicket, with +a switch in his hand, which he had been just cutting,—probably +against regulations to the contrary +effect made and provided, for he held himself ready +to take cover in the copse again, in case any one +were in sight who might be interested in chastising +his delinquency. Captain Jekyl easily recognised +in him one of that hopeful class of imps, who pick +up a precarious livelihood about places of public +resort, by going errands, brushing shoes, doing the +groom's and coachman's work in the stables, driving +donkeys, opening gates, and so forth, for about one-tenth +part of their time, spending the rest in +gambling, sleeping in the sun, and otherwise qualifying +themselves to exercise the profession of thieves +and pickpockets, either separately, or in conjunction +with those of waiters, grooms, and postilions. The +little outcast had an indifferent pair of pantaloons, +and about half a jacket, for, like Pentapolin with +the naked arm, he went on action with his right<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_173" id="vol_ii_Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> +shoulder bare; a third part of what had once been +a hat covered his hair, bleached white with the sun, +and his face, as brown as a berry, was illuminated +by a pair of eyes, which, for spying out either peril +or profit, might have rivalled those of the hawk.—In +a word, it was the original Puck of the Shaws +dramaticals.</p> + +<p>“Come hither, ye unhanged whelp,” said Jekyl, +“and tell me if you know the old gentleman that +passed down the walk just now—yonder he is, still +in sight.”</p> + +<p>“It is the Naboab,” said the boy; “I could swear +to his back among all the backs at the Waal, your +honour.”</p> + +<p>“What do you call a Nabob, you varlet?”</p> + +<p>“A Naboab—a Naboab?” answered the scout; +“odd, I believe it is ane comes frae foreign parts, +with mair siller than his pouches can haud, and +spills it a' through the country—they are as yellow +as orangers, and maun hae a' thing their ain gate.”</p> + +<p>“And what is this Naboab's name, as you call +him?” demanded Jekyl.</p> + +<p>“His name is Touchwood,” said his informer; +“ye may see him at the Waal every morning.”</p> + +<p>“I have not seen him at the ordinary.”</p> + +<p>“Na, na,” answered the boy; “he is a queer +auld cull, he disna frequent wi' other folk, but lives +upby at the Cleikum.—He gave me half-a-crown +yince, and forbade me to play it awa' at pitch and +toss.”</p> + +<p>“And you disobeyed him, of course?”</p> + +<p>“Na, I didna dis-obeyed him—I played it awa' +at neevie-neevie-nick-nack.”</p> + +<p>“Well, there is sixpence for thee; lose it to the +devil in any way thou think'st proper.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_174" id="vol_ii_Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span></p> + +<p>So saying he gave the little galopin his donative, +and a slight rap on the pate at the same time, +which sent him scouring from his presence. He +himself hastened to Lord Etherington's apartments, +and, as luck would have it, found the Earl alone.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_175" id="vol_ii_Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol_ii_CHAPTER_XII" id="vol_ii_CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII.</h2> + +<h3>DISCUSSION.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">I will converse with iron-witted fools<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And unrespective boys—none are for me<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That look into me with suspicious eyes.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="citation"> +<i>Richard III.</i><br /> +</p> + + +<p>“How now, Jekyl!” said Lord Etherington, eagerly; +“what news from the enemy?—Have you seen +him?”</p> + +<p>“I have,” replied Jekyl.</p> + +<p>“And in what humour did you find him?—in +none that was very favourable, I dare say, for you +have a baffled and perplexed look, that confesses a +losing game—I have often warned you how your +hang-dog look betrays you at brag—And then, +when you would fain brush up your courage, and +put a good face on a bad game, your bold looks +always remind me of a standard hoisted only half-mast +high, and betraying melancholy and dejection, +instead of triumph and defiance.”</p> + +<p>“I am only holding the cards for your lordship +at present,” answered Jekyl; “and I wish to +Heaven there may be no one looking over the hand.”</p> + +<p>“How do you mean by that?”</p> + +<p>“Why, I was beset, on returning through the +wood, by an old bore, a Nabob, as they call him, +and Touchwood by name.”</p> + +<p>“I have seen such a quiz about,” said Lord +Etherington—“What of him?”<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_176" id="vol_ii_Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Nothing,” answered Jekyl, “except that he +seemed to know much more of your affairs than you +would wish or are aware of. He smoked the truth +of the rencontre betwixt Tyrrel and you, and what +is worse—I must needs confess the truth—he contrived +to wring out of me a sort of confirmation of +his suspicions.”</p> + +<p>“'Slife! wert thou mad?” said Lord Etherington, +turning pale; “His is the very tongue to send the +story through the whole country—Hal, you have +undone me.”</p> + +<p>“I hope not,” said Jekyl; “I trust in Heaven I +have not!—His knowledge is quite general—only +that there was some scuffle between you—Do not +look so dismayed about it, or I will e'en go back +and cut his throat, to secure his secrecy.”</p> + +<p>“Cursed indiscretion!” answered the Earl—“how +could you let him fix on you at all?”</p> + +<p>“I cannot tell,” said Jekyl—“he has powers of +boring beyond ten of the dullest of all possible doctors—stuck +like a limpet to a rock—a perfect double +of the Old Man of the Sea, who I take to have been +the greatest bore on record.”</p> + +<p>“Could you not have turned him on his back +like a turtle, and left him there?” said Lord +Etherington.</p> + +<p>“And had an ounce of lead in my body for my +pains? No—no—we have already had footpad +work enough—I promise you the old buck was +armed, as if he meant to bing folks on the low +toby.”<a name="vol_ii_FNanchor_8_8" id="vol_ii_FNanchor_8_8"></a><a href="#vol_ii_Footnote_8_8" class="fnanchor">[8]</a></p> + +<p>“Well—well—But Martigny, or Tyrrel, as you +call him—what says he?”</p> + +<p>“Why, Tyrrel, or Martigny, as your lordship<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_177" id="vol_ii_Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> +calls him,” answered Jekyl, “will by no means +listen to your lordship's proposition. He will not +consent that Miss Mowbray's happiness shall be +placed in your lordship's keeping; nay, it did not +meet his approbation a bit the more, when I hinted +at the acknowledgment of the marriage, or the +repetition of the ceremony, attended by an immediate +separation, which I thought I might venture +to propose.”</p> + +<p>“And on what grounds does he refuse so reasonable +an accommodation?” said Lord Etherington—“Does +he still seek to marry the girl himself?”</p> + +<p>“I believe he thinks the circumstances of the +case render that impossible,” replied his confidant.</p> + +<p>“What? then he would play the dog in the +manger—neither eat nor let eat?—He shall find +himself mistaken. She has used me like a dog, +Jekyl, since I saw you; and, by Jove! I will have +her, that I may break her pride, and cut him to the +liver with the agony of seeing it.”</p> + +<p>“Nay, but hold—hold!” said Jekyl; “perhaps +I have something to say on his part, that may be +a better compromise than all you could have by +teasing him. He is willing to purchase what he +calls Miss Mowbray's tranquillity, at the expense +of his resignation of his claims to your father's +honours and estate; and he surprised me very much, +my lord, by showing me this list of documents, +which, I am afraid, makes his success more than +probable, if there really are such proofs in existence.” +Lord Etherington took the paper, and seemed +to read with much attention, while Jekyl proceeded,—“He +has written to procure these evidences from +the person with whom they are deposited.”</p> + +<p>“We shall see what like they are when they<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_178" id="vol_ii_Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> +arrive,” said Lord Etherington.—“They come by +post, I suppose?”</p> + +<p>“Yes; and may be immediately expected,” answered +Jekyl.</p> + +<p>“Well—he is my brother on one side of the +house, at least,” said Lord Etherington; “and I +should not much like to have him lagged for forgery, +which I suppose will be the end of his +bolstering up an unsubstantial plea by fabricated +documents—I should like to see these same papers +he talks of.”</p> + +<p>“But, my lord,” replied Jekyl, “Tyrrel's allegation +is, that you <i>have</i> seen them; and that copies, +at least, were made out for you, and are in your +possession—such is his averment.”</p> + +<p>“He lies,” answered Lord Etherington, “so far as +he pretends I know of such papers. I consider the +whole story as froth—foam—fudge, or whatever +is most unsubstantial. It will prove such when the +papers appear, if indeed they ever will appear. The +whole is a bully from beginning to end; and I wonder +at thee, Jekyl, for being so thirsty after syllabub, +that you can swallow such whipt cream as that +stuff amounts to. No, no—I know my advantage, +and shall use it so as to make all their hearts +bleed. As for these papers, I recollect now that my +agent talked of copies of some manuscripts having +been sent him, but the originals were not then forthcoming; +and I'll bet the long odds that they never +are—mere fabrications—if I thought otherwise, +would I not tell you?”</p> + +<p>“Certainly, I hope you would, my lord,” said +Jekyl; “for I see no chance of my being useful +to you, unless I have the honour to enjoy your +confidence.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_179" id="vol_ii_Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span></p> + +<p>“You do—you do, my friend,” said Etherington, +shaking him by the hand; “and since I must consider +your present negotiation as failed, I must devise +some other mode of settling with this mad and +troublesome fellow.”</p> + +<p>“No violence, my lord,” said Jekyl, once more, +and with much emphasis.</p> + +<p>“None—none—none, by Heaven!—Why, thou +suspicious wretch, must I swear, to quell your +scruples?—On the contrary, it shall not be my +fault, if we are not on decent terms.”</p> + +<p>“It would be infinitely to the advantage of both +your characters if you could bring that to pass,” +answered Jekyl; “and if you are serious in wishing +it, I will endeavour to prepare Tyrrel. He comes +to the Well or to the ordinary to-day, and it would +be highly ridiculous to make a scene.”</p> + +<p>“True, true; find him out, my dear Jekyl, and +persuade him how foolish it will be to bring our +family quarrels out before strangers, and for their +amusement. They shall see the two bears can meet +without biting.—Go—go—I will follow you +instantly—go, and remember you have my full +and exclusive confidence.—Go, half-bred, startling +fool!” he continued, the instant Jekyl had left the +room, “with just spirits enough to ensure your own +ruin, by hurrying you into what you are not up to.—But +he has character in the world—is brave—and +one of those whose countenance gives a fair face to +a doubtful business. He is my creature, too—I +have bought and paid for him, and it would be idle +extravagance not to make use of him—But as to +confidence—no confidence, honest Hal, beyond that +which cannot be avoided. If I wanted a confidant, +here comes a better than thou by half—Solmes has<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_180" id="vol_ii_Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> +no scruples—he will always give me money's worth +of zeal and secrecy <i>for</i> money.”</p> + +<p>His lordship's valet at this moment entered the +apartment, a grave, civil-looking man, past the +middle age, with a sallow complexion, a dark +thoughtful eye, slow, and sparing of speech, and +sedulously attentive to all the duties of his situation.</p> + +<p>“Solmes,”—said Lord Etherington, and then +stopped short.</p> + +<p>“My lord”—There was a pause; and when Lord +Etherington had again said, “Solmes!” and his +valet had answered, “Your lordship,” there was a +second pause; until the Earl, as if recollecting himself, +“Oh! I remember what I wished to say—it +was about the course of post here. It is not very +regular, I believe?”</p> + +<p>“Regular enough, my lord, so far as concerns +this place—the people in the Aultoun do not get +their letters in course.”</p> + +<p>“And why not, Solmes?” said his lordship.</p> + +<p>“The old woman who keeps the little inn there, +my lord, is on bad terms with the post-mistress—the +one will not send for the letters, and the other +will not dispatch them to the village; so, betwixt +them, they are sometimes lost or mislaid, or returned +to the General Post-office.”</p> + +<p>“I wish that may not be the case of a packet +which I expect in a few days—it should have been +here already, or, perhaps, it may arrive in the beginning +of the week—it is from that formal ass, +Trueman the Quaker, who addresses me by my +Christian and family name, Francis Tyrrel. He is +like enough to mistake the inn, too, and I should +be sorry it fell into Monsieur Martigny's hands—I +suppose you know he is in that neighbourhood?<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_181" id="vol_ii_Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span>—Look +after its safety, Solmes—quietly, you understand; +because people might put odd constructions, +as if I were wanting a letter which was not my +own.”</p> + +<p>“I understand perfectly, my lord,” said Solmes, +without exhibiting the slightest change in his sallow +countenance, though entirely comprehending +the nature of the service required.</p> + +<p>“And here is a note will pay for postage,” said +the Earl, putting into his valet's hand a bank-bill +of considerable value; “and you may keep the +balance for occasional expenses.”</p> + +<p>This was also fully understood; and Solmes, too +politic and cautious even to look intelligence, or +acknowledge gratitude, made only a bow of acquiescence, +put the note into his pocketbook, and +assured his lordship that his commands should be +punctually attended to.</p> + +<p>“There goes the agent for my money, and for +my purpose,” said Lord Etherington, exultingly; +“no extorting of confidence, no demanding of explanations, +no tearing off the veil with which a delicate +manœuvre is <i>gazé</i>—all excuses are received as +<i>argent comptant</i>, provided only, that the best excuse +of all, the <i>argent comptant</i> itself, come to recommend +them.—Yet I will trust no one—I will +out, like a skilful general, and reconnoitre in +person.”</p> + +<p>With this resolution, Lord Etherington put on +his surtout and cap, and sallying from his apartments, +took the way to the bookseller's shop, which +also served as post-office and circulating library; +and being in the very centre of the parade, (for so +is termed the broad terrace walk which leads from +the inn to the Well,) it formed a convenient loung<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_182" id="vol_ii_Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span>ing-place +for newsmongers and idlers of every +description.</p> + +<p>The Earl's appearance created, as usual, a sensation +upon the public promenade; but whether it +was the suggestion of his own alarmed conscience, +or that there was some real cause for the remark, +he could not help thinking his reception was of a +more doubtful character than usual. His fine figure +and easy manners produced their usual effect, and +all whom he spoke to received his attention as an +honour; but none offered, as usual, to unite themselves +to him, or to induce him to join their party. +He seemed to be looked on rather as an object of +observation and attention, than as making one of +the company; and to escape from a distant gaze, +which became rather embarrassing, he turned into +the little emporium of news and literature.</p> + +<p>He entered unobserved, just as Lady Penelope +had finished reading some verses, and was commenting +upon them with all the alacrity of a <i>femme +savante</i>, in possession of something which no one is +to hear repeated oftener than once.</p> + +<p>“Copy—no indeed!” these were the snatches +which reached Lord Etherington's ear, from the +group of which her ladyship formed the centre—“honour +bright—I must not betray poor Chatterly—besides, +his lordship is my friend, and a person +of rank, you know—so one would not—You have +not got the book, Mr. Pott?—you have not got +Statius?—you never have any thing one longs to +see.”</p> + +<p>“Very sorry, my lady—quite out of copies at +present—I expect some in my next monthly +parcel.”</p> + +<p>“Good lack, Mr. Pott, that is your never-failing<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_183" id="vol_ii_Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> +answer,” said Lady Penelope; “I believe if I +were to ask you for the last new edition of the +Alkoran, you would tell me it was coming down +in your next monthly parcel.”</p> + +<p>“Can't say, my lady, really,” answered Mr. Pott; +“have not seen the work advertised yet; but I +have no doubt, if it is likely to take, there will be +copies in my next monthly parcel.”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Pott's supplies are always in the <i>paullo +post futurum</i> tense,” said Mr. Chatterly, who was +just entering the shop.</p> + +<p>“Ah! Mr. Chatterly, are you there?” said Lady +Penelope; “I lay my death at your door—I cannot +find this Thebaid, where Polynices and his +brother”——</p> + +<p>“Hush, my lady!—hush, for Heaven's sake!” +said the poetical divine, and looked towards Lord +Etherington. Lady Penelope took the hint, and +was silent; but she had said enough to call up the +traveller Touchwood, who raised his head from the +newspaper which he was studying, and, without +addressing his discourse to any one in particular, +ejaculated, as if in scorn of Lady Penelope's +geography—</p> + +<p>“Polynices?—Polly Peachum.—There is no +such place in the Thebais—the Thebais is in Egypt—the +mummies come from the Thebais—I have +been in the catacombs—caves very curious indeed—we +were lapidated by the natives—pebbled to +some purpose, I give you my word. My janizary +thrashed a whole village by way of retaliation.”</p> + +<p>While he was thus proceeding, Lord Etherington, +as if in a listless mood, was looking at the letters +which stood ranged on the chimney-piece, and +carrying on a languid dialogue with Mrs. Pott,<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_184" id="vol_ii_Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> +whose person and manners were not ill adapted to +her situation, for she was good-looking, and vastly +fine and affected.</p> + +<p>“Number of letters here which don't seem to find +owners, Mrs. Pott?”</p> + +<p>“Great number, indeed, my lord—it is a great +vexation, for we are obliged to return them to the +post-office, and the postage is charged against us if +they are lost; and how can one keep sight of them +all?”</p> + +<p>“Any love-letters among them, Mrs. Pott?” said +his lordship, lowering his tone.</p> + +<p>“Oh, fie! my lord, how should I know?” +answered Mrs. Pott, dropping her voice to the same +cadence.</p> + +<p>“Oh! every one can tell a love-letter—that has +ever received one, that is—one knows them without +opening—they are always folded hurriedly and +sealed carefully—and the direction manifests a +kind of tremulous agitation, that marks the state of +the writer's nerves—that now,”—pointing with +his switch to a letter upon the chimney-piece, +“that <i>must</i> be a love-letter.”</p> + +<p>“He, he, he!” giggled Mrs. Pott, “I beg pardon +for laughing, my lord—but—he, he, he!—that is +a letter from one Bindloose, the banker body, to the +old woman Luckie Dods, as they call her, at the +change-house in the Aultoun.”</p> + +<p>“Depend upon it then, Mrs. Pott, that your +neighbour, Mrs. Dods, has got a lover in Mr. +Bindloose—unless the banker has been shaking +hands with the palsy. Why do you not forward +her letter?—you are very cruel to keep it in +durance here.”</p> + +<p>“Me forward!” answered Mrs. Pott; “the cap<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_185" id="vol_ii_Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span>pernoity, +old, girning alewife, may wait long enough +or I forward it—She'll not loose the letters that +come to her by the King's post, and she must go on +troking wi' the old carrier, as if there was no post-house +in the neighbourhood. But the solicitor will +be about wi' her one of these days.”</p> + +<p>“Oh! you are too cruel—you really should send +the love-letter; consider, the older she is, the poor +soul has the less time to lose.”</p> + +<p>But this was a topic on which Mrs. Pott understood +no jesting. She was well aware of our +matron's inveteracy against her and her establishment, +and she resented it as a placeman resents +the efforts of a radical. She answered something +sulkily, “That they that loosed letters should have +letters; and neither Luckie Dods, nor any of her +lodgers, should ever see the scrape of a pen from +the St. Ronan's office, that they did not call for and +pay for.”</p> + +<p>It is probable that this declaration contained the +essence of the information which Lord Etherington +had designed to extract by his momentary flirtation +with Mrs. Pott; for when, retreating as it were from +this sore subject, she asked him, in a pretty mincing +tone, to try his skill in pointing out another love-letter, +he only answered carelessly, “that in order +to do that he must write her one;” and leaving his +confidential station by her little throne, he lounged +through the narrow shop, bowed slightly to Lady +Penelope as he passed, and issued forth upon the +parade, where he saw a spectacle which might well +have appalled a man of less self-possession than +himself.</p> + +<p>Just as he left the shop, little Miss Digges +entered almost breathless, with the emotion of<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_186" id="vol_ii_Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> +impatience and of curiosity. “Oh la! my lady, +what do you stay here for?—Mr. Tyrrel has just +entered the other end of the parade this moment, +and Lord Etherington is walking that way—they +must meet each other.—O lord! come, come away, +and see them meet!—I wonder if they'll speak—I +hope they won't fight—Oh la! do come, my lady!”</p> + +<p>“I must go with you, I find,” said Lady Penelope; +“it is the strangest thing, my love, that +curiosity of yours about other folk's matters—I +wonder what your mamma will say to it.”</p> + +<p>“Oh! never mind mamma—nobody minds her—papa, +nor nobody—Do come, dearest Lady Pen, +or I will run away by myself.—Mr. Chatterly, do +make her come!”</p> + +<p>“I must come, it seems,” said Lady Penelope, +“or I shall have a pretty account of you.”</p> + +<p>But, notwithstanding this rebuke, and forgetting, +at the same time, that people of quality ought never +to seem in a hurry, Lady Penelope, with such of +her satellites as she could hastily collect around her, +tripped along the parade with unusual haste, in +sympathy, doubtless, with Miss Digges's curiosity, as +her ladyship declared she had none of her own.</p> + +<p>Our friend, the traveller, had also caught up Miss +Digges's information; and, breaking off abruptly an +account of the Great Pyramid, which had been naturally +introduced by the mention of the Thebais, and +echoing the fair alarmist's words, “hope they won't +fight,” he rushed upon the parade, and bustled along +as hard as his sturdy supporters could carry him. If +the gravity of the traveller, and the delicacy of +Lady Penelope, were surprised into unwonted haste +from their eagerness to witness the meeting of +Tyrrel and Lord Etherington, it may be well sup<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_187" id="vol_ii_Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span>posed +that the decorum of the rest of the company +was a slender restraint on their curiosity, and that +they hurried to be present at the expected scene, +with the alacrity of gentlemen of the fancy hastening +to a set-to.</p> + +<p>In truth, though the meeting afforded little sport +to those who expected dire conclusions, it was, +nevertheless, sufficiently interesting to those spectators +who are accustomed to read the language of +suppressed passion betraying itself at the moment +when the parties are most desirous to conceal it.</p> + +<p>Tyrrel had been followed by several loiterers so +soon as he entered the public walk; and their number +was now so much reinforced, that he saw +himself with pain and displeasure the centre of a +sort of crowd who watched his motions. Sir Bingo +and Captain MacTurk were the first to bustle through +it, and to address him with as much politeness as +they could command.</p> + +<p>“Servant, sir,” mumbled Sir Bingo, extending +the right hand of fellowship and reconciliation, +ungloved. “Servant—sorry that anything should +have happened between us—very sorry, on my +word.”</p> + +<p>“No more need be said, sir,” replied Tyrrel; “the +whole is forgotten.”</p> + +<p>“Very handsome, indeed—quite the civil thing—hope +to meet you often, sir.”—And here the +knight was silent.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, the more verbose Captain proceeded, +“Och, py Cot, and it was an awfu' mistake, and I +could draw the penknife across my finger for having +written the word.—By my sowl, and I scratched it +till I scratched a hole in the paper.—Och! that I +should live to do an uncivil thing by a gentleman<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_188" id="vol_ii_Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> +that had got himself hit in an honourable affair! +But you should have written, my dear; for how the +devil could we guess that you were so well provided +in quarrels, that you had to settle two in one day!”</p> + +<p>“I was hurt in an unexpected—an accidental +manner, Captain MacTurk. I did not write, +because there was something, in my circumstances +at the moment which required secrecy; but I was +resolved, the instant I recovered, to put myself to +rights in your good opinion.”</p> + +<p>“Och! and you have done that,” said the Captain, +nodding sagaciously; “for Captain Jekyl, who +is a fine child, has put us all up to your honourable +conduct. They are pretty boys, these guardsmen, +though they may play a little fine sometimes, and +think more of themselves than peradventure they +need for to do, in comparison with us of the line.—But +he let us know all about it—and, though +he said not a word of a certain fine lord, with his +footpad, and his hurt, and what not, yet we all +knew how to lay that and that together.—And +if the law would not right you, and there were bad +words between you, why should not two gentlemen +right themselves? And as to your being kinsmen, +why should not kinsmen behave to each other like +men of honour? Only, some say you are father's +sons, and that <i>is</i> something too near.—I had once +thoughts of calling out my uncle Dougal myself, +for there is no saying where the line should be +drawn; but I thought, on the whole, there should +be no fighting, as there is no marriage, within the +forbidden degrees. As for first cousins—Wheugh!—that's +all fair—fire away, Flanigan!—But +here is my lord, just upon us, like a stag of the first +head, and the whole herd behind him.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_189" id="vol_ii_Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span></p> + +<p>Tyrrel stepped forward a little before his officious +companions, his complexion rapidly changing into +various shades, like that of one who forces himself +to approach and touch some animal or reptile +for which he entertains that deep disgust and +abhorrence which was anciently ascribed to constitutional +antipathy. This appearance of constraint +put upon himself, with the changes which it produced +on his face, was calculated to prejudice him +somewhat in the opinion of the spectators, when +compared with the steady, stately, yet, at the same +time, easy demeanour of the Earl of Etherington, +who was equal to any man in England in the difficult +art of putting a good countenance on a bad +cause. He met Tyrrel with an air as unembarrassed, +as it was cold; and, while he paid the courtesy +of a formal and distant salutation, he said aloud, +“I presume, Mr. Tyrrel de Martigny, that, since +you have not thought fit to avoid this awkward +meeting, you are disposed to remember our family +connexion so far as to avoid making sport for the +good company?”</p> + +<p>“You have nothing to apprehend from my passion, +Mr. Bulmer,” replied Tyrrel, “if you can assure +yourself against the consequences of your own.”</p> + +<p>“I am glad of that,” said the Earl, with the +same composure, but sinking his voice so as only +to be heard by Tyrrel; “and as we may not again +in a hurry hold any communication together, I take +the freedom to remind you, that I sent you a proposal +of accommodation by my friend, Mr. Jekyl.”</p> + +<p>“It was inadmissible,” said Tyrrel—“altogether +inadmissible—both from reasons which you may +guess, and others which it is needless to detail.—I +sent you a proposition, think of it well.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_190" id="vol_ii_Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I will,” replied Lord Etherington, “when I +shall see it supported by those alleged proofs, which +I do not believe ever had existence.”</p> + +<p>“Your conscience holds another language from +your tongue,” said Tyrrel; “but I disclaim +reproaches, and decline altercation. I will let Captain +Jekyl know when I have received the papers, +which, you say, are essential to your forming an +opinion on my proposal.—In the meanwhile, do +not think to deceive me. I am here for the very +purpose of watching and defeating your machinations; +and, while I live, be assured they shall never +succeed.—And now, sir—or my lord—for the +titles are in your choice—fare you well.”</p> + +<p>“Hold a little,” said Lord Etherington. “Since +we are condemned to shock each other's eyes, it +is fit the good company should know what they +are to think of us. You are a philosopher, and do +not value the opinion of the public—a poor worldling +like me is desirous to stand fair with it.—Gentlemen,” +he continued, raising his voice, “Mr. +Winterblossom, Captain MacTurk, Mr.—what is his +name, Jekyl?—Ay, Micklehen—You have, I +believe, all some notion, that this gentleman, my +near relation, and I, have some undecided claims on +each other, which prevent our living upon good terms. +We do not mean, however, to disturb you with our +family quarrels; and, for my own part, while this +gentleman, Mr. Tyrrel, or whatever he may please +to call himself, remains a member of this company, +my behaviour to him will be the same as to any +stranger who may have that advantage.—Good +morrow to you, sir—Good morning, gentlemen—we +all meet at dinner, as usual.—Come, Jekyl.”</p> + +<p>So saying, he took Jekyl by the arm, and, gently<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_191" id="vol_ii_Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> +extricating himself from the sort of crowd, walked +off, leaving most of the company prepossessed in +his favour, by the ease and apparent reasonableness +of his demeanour. Sounds of depreciation, forming +themselves indistinctly into something like the +words, “my eye, and Betty Martin,” did issue +from the neckcloth of Sir Bingo, but they were not +much attended to; for it had not escaped the observation +of the quicksighted gentry at the Well, that +the Baronet's feelings towards the noble Earl were +in the inverse ratio of those displayed by Lady +Binks, and that, though ashamed to testify, or perhaps +incapable of feeling, any anxious degree of +jealousy, his temper had been for some time considerably +upon the fret; a circumstance concerning +which his fair moiety did not think it necessary to +give herself any concern.</p> + +<p>Meanwhile, the Earl of Etherington walked +onward with his confidant, in the full triumph of +successful genius.</p> + +<p>“You see,” he said, “Jekyl, that I can turn a +corner with any man in England. It was a proper +blunder of yours, that you must extricate the fellow +from the mist which accident had flung around him—you +might as well have published the story of +our rencontre at once, for every one can guess it, by +laying time, place, and circumstance together; but +never trouble your brains for a justification. You +marked how I assumed my natural superiority over +him—towered up in the full pride of legitimacy—silenced +him even where the good company most do +congregate. This will go to Mowbray through his +agent, and will put him still madder on my alliance. +I know he looks jealously on my flirtation with a +certain lady—the dasher yonder—nothing makes<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_192" id="vol_ii_Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> +a man sensible of the value of an opportunity, but +the chance of losing it.”</p> + +<p>“I wish to Heaven you would give up thoughts +of Miss Mowbray!” said Jekyl; “and take Tyrrel's +offer, if he has the means of making it good.”</p> + +<p>“Ay, if—if. But I am quite sure he has no +such rights as he pretends to, and that his papers +are all a deception.—Why do you put your eye +upon me as fixed as if you were searching out some +wonderful secret?”</p> + +<p>“I wish I knew what to think of your real <i>bona +fide</i> belief respecting these documents,” said Jekyl, +not a little puzzled by the steady and unembarrassed +air of his friend.</p> + +<p>“Why, thou most suspicious of coxcombs,” said +Etherington, “what the devil would you have me +say to you?—Can I, as the lawyers say, prove a +negative? or, is it not very possible, that such +things may exist, though I have never seen or +heard of them? All I can say is, that of all men I +am the most interested to deny the existence of +such documents; and, therefore, certainly will not +admit of it, unless I am compelled to do so by their +being produced; nor then either, unless I am at the +same time well assured of their authenticity.”</p> + +<p>“I cannot blame you for your being hard of faith, +my lord,” said Jekyl; “but still I think if you can +cut out with your earldom, and your noble hereditary +estate, I would, in your case, pitch Nettlewood +to the devil.”</p> + +<p>“Yes, as you pitched your own patrimony, Jekyl; +but you took care to have the spending of it first.—What +would <i>you</i> give for such an opportunity of +piecing your fortunes by marriage?—Confess the +truth.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_193" id="vol_ii_Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I might be tempted, perhaps,” said Jekyl, “in +my present circumstances; but if they were what +they have been, I should despise an estate that was +to be held by petticoat tenure, especially when the +lady of the manor was a sickly fantastic girl, that +hated me, as this Miss Mowbray has the bad taste +to hate you.”</p> + +<p>“Umph—sickly?—no, no, she is not sickly—she +is as healthy as any one in constitution—and, +on my word, I think her paleness only renders +her more interesting. The last time I saw her, I +thought she might have rivalled one of Canova's +finest statues.”</p> + +<p>“Yes; but she is indifferent to you—you do not +love her,” said Jekyl.</p> + +<p>“She is any thing but indifferent to me,” said +the Earl; “she becomes daily more interesting—for +her dislike piques me; and besides, she has the +insolence openly to defy and contemn me before her +brother, and in the eyes of all the world. I have +a kind of loving hatred—a sort of hating love for +her; in short, thinking upon her is like trying to +read a riddle, and makes one make quite as many +blunders, and talk just as much nonsense. If ever +I have the opportunity, I will make her pay for all +her airs.”</p> + +<p>“What airs?” said Jekyl.</p> + +<p>“Nay, the devil may describe them, for I cannot; +but, for example—Since her brother has +insisted on her receiving me, or I should rather say +on her appearing when I visit Shaws-Castle, one +would think her invention has toiled in discovering +different ways of showing want of respect to me, +and dislike to my presence. Instead of dressing +herself as a lady should, especially on such occa<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_194" id="vol_ii_Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span>sions, +she chooses some fantastic, or old-fashioned, +or negligent bedizening, which makes her at least +look odd, if it cannot make her ridiculous—such +triple tiaras of various-coloured gauze on her head—such +pieces of old tapestry, I think, instead of +shawls and pelisses—such thick-soled shoes—such +tan-leather gloves—mercy upon us, Hal, the very +sight of her equipment would drive mad a whole +conclave of milliners! Then her postures are so +strange—she does so stoop and lollop, as the +women call it, so cross her legs and square her arms—were +the goddess of grace to look down on her, +it would put her to flight for ever!”</p> + +<p>“And you are willing to make this awkward, +ill-dressed, unmannered dowdy, your Countess, +Etherington; you, for whose critical eye half the +town dress themselves?” said Jekyl.</p> + +<p>“It is all a trick, Hal—all an assumed character +to get rid of me, to disgust me, to baffle me; but I +am not to be had so easily. The brother is driven +to despair—he bites his nails, winks, coughs, makes +signs, which she always takes up at cross-purpose.—I +hope he beats her after I go away; there would +be a touch of consolation, were one but certain of +that.”</p> + +<p>“A very charitable hope, truly, and your present +feelings might lead the lady to judge what +she may expect after wedlock. But,” added Jekyl, +“cannot you, so skilful in fathoming every mood +of the female mind, divine some mode of engaging +her in conversation?”</p> + +<p>“Conversation!” replied the Earl; “why, ever +since the shock of my first appearance was surmounted, +she has contrived to vote me a nonentity; +and that she may annihilate me completely, she has<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_195" id="vol_ii_Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span> +chosen, of all occupations, that of working a stocking! +From what cursed old antediluvian, who lived +before the invention of spinning-jennies, she learned +this craft, Heaven only knows; but there she sits, +with her work pinned to her knee—not the pretty +taper silken fabric, with which Jeannette of Amiens +coquetted, while Tristram Shandy was observing +her progress; but a huge worsted bag, designed +for some flat-footed old pauper, with heels like an +elephant—And there she squats, counting all the +stitches as she works, and refusing to speak, or +listen, or look up, under pretence that it disturbs +her calculation!”</p> + +<p>“An elegant occupation, truly, and I wonder it +does not work a cure upon her noble admirer,” said +Jekyl.</p> + +<p>“Confound her—no—she shall not trick me. +And then amid this affectation of vulgar stolidity, +there break out such sparkles of exultation, when +she thinks she has succeeded in baffling her brother, +and in plaguing me, that, by my faith, Hal, I could +not tell, were it at my option, whether to kiss or to +cuff her.”</p> + +<p>“You are determined to go on with this strange +affair, then?” said Jekyl.</p> + +<p>“On—on—on, my boy!—Clara and Nettlewood +for ever!” answered the Earl. “Besides this +brother of hers provokes me too—he does not do +for me half what he might—what he ought to do. +He stands on points of honour, forsooth, this broken-down +horse-jockey, who swallowed my two thousand +pounds as a pointer would a pat of butter.—I can +see he wishes to play fast and loose—has some +suspicions, like you, Hal, upon the strength of my +right to my father's titles and estate; as if, with<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_196" id="vol_ii_Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> +the tithe of the Nettlewood property alone, I would +not be too good a match for one of his beggarly +family. He must scheme, forsooth, this half-baked +Scotch cake!—He must hold off and on, and be +cautious, and wait the result, and try conclusions +with me, this lump of oatmeal dough!—I am +much tempted to make an example of him in the +course of my proceedings.”</p> + +<p>“Why, this is vengeance horrible and dire,” said +Jekyl; “yet I give up the brother to you; he is a +conceited coxcomb, and deserves a lesson. But I +would fain intercede for the sister.”</p> + +<p>“We shall see”—replied the Earl; and then +suddenly, “I tell you what it is, Hal; her caprices +are so diverting, that I sometimes think out of +mere contradiction, I almost love her; at least, if +she would but clear old scores, and forget one +unlucky prank of mine, it should be her own fault +if I did not make her a happy woman.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_197" id="vol_ii_Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol_ii_CHAPTER_XIII" id="vol_ii_CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII.</h2> + +<h3>A DEATH-BED.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">It comes—it wrings me in my parting hour,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The long-hid crime—the well-disguised guilt.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bring me some holy priest to lay the spectre!<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="citation"> +<i>Old Play.</i><br /> +</p> + + +<p>The general expectation of the company had been +disappointed by the pacific termination of the +meeting betwixt the Earl of Etherington and +Tyrrel, the anticipation of which had created so +deep a sensation. It had been expected that some +appalling scene would have taken place; instead of +which, each party seemed to acquiesce in a sullen +neutrality, and leave the war to be carried on by +their lawyers. It was generally understood that +the cause was removed out of the courts of Bellona +into that of Themis; and although the litigants +continued to inhabit the same neighbourhood, and +once or twice met at the public walks or public +table, they took no notice of each other, farther +than by exchanging on such occasions, a grave +and distant bow.</p> + +<p>In the course of two or three days, people ceased +to take interest in a feud so coldly conducted; and +if they thought of it at all, it was but to wonder +that both the parties should persevere in residing +near the Spa, and in chilling, with their unsocial +behaviour, a party met together for the purposes +of health and amusement.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_198" id="vol_ii_Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span></p> + +<p>But the brothers, as the reader is aware, however +painful their occasional meetings might be, had the +strongest reasons to remain in each other's neighbourhood—Lord +Etherington to conduct his design +upon Miss Mowbray, Tyrrel to disconcert his plan, +if possible, and both to await the answer which +should be returned by the house in London, who +were depositaries of the papers left by the late Earl.</p> + +<p>Jekyl, anxious to assist his friend as much as +possible, made in the meantime a visit to old +Touchwood at the Aultoun, expecting to find him +as communicative as he had formerly been on the +subject of the quarrel betwixt the brothers, and +trusting to discover, by dint of address, whence he +had derived his information concerning the affairs +of the noble house of Etherington. But the confidence +which he had been induced to expect on the +part of the old traveller was not reposed. Ferdinand +Mendez Pinto, as the Earl called him, had changed +his mind, or was not in the vein of communication. +The only proof of his confidence worth mentioning, +was his imparting to the young officer a valuable +receipt for concocting curry-powder.</p> + +<p>Jekyl was therefore reduced to believe that +Touchwood, who appeared all his life to have been +a great intermeddler in other people's matters, had +puzzled out the information which he appeared to +possess of Lord Etherington's affairs, through some +of those obscure sources whence very important +secrets do frequently, to the astonishment and +confusion of those whom they concern, escape to +the public. He thought this the more likely, as +Touchwood was by no means critically nice in his +society, but was observed to converse as readily with +a gentleman's gentleman, as with the gentleman to<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_199" id="vol_ii_Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> +whom he belonged, and with a lady's attendant, as +with the lady herself. He that will stoop to this sort +of society, who is fond of tattle, being at the same +time disposed to pay some consideration for gratification +of his curiosity, and not over scrupulous +respecting its accuracy, may always command a +great quantity of private anecdote. Captain Jekyl +naturally enough concluded, that this busy old man +became in some degree master of other people's +affairs by such correspondences as these; and he +could himself bear witness to his success in cross-examination, +as he had been surprised into an +avowal of the rencontre between the brothers, by +an insidious observation of the said Touchwood. +He reported, therefore, to the Earl, after this +interview, that, on the whole, he thought he had +no reason to fear much on the subject of the +traveller, who, though he had become acquainted, +by some means or other, with some leading facts +of his remarkable history; only possessed them in +a broken, confused, and desultory manner, insomuch +that he seemed to doubt whether the parties in the +expected lawsuit were brothers or cousins, and +appeared totally ignorant of the facts on which it +was to be founded.</p> + +<p>It was the next day after this <i>éclaircissement</i> on +the subject of Touchwood, that Lord Etherington +dropped as usual into the bookseller's shop, got +his papers, and skimming his eye over the shelf +on which lay, till called for, the postponed letters +destined for the Aultoun, saw with a beating heart +the smart post-mistress toss amongst them, with an +air of sovereign contempt, a pretty large packet, +addressed to Francis Tyrrel, Esq. &c. He withdrew +his eyes, as if conscious that even to have looked<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_200" id="vol_ii_Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> +on this important parcel might engender some +suspicion of his purpose, or intimate the deep +interest which he took in the contents of the +missive which was so slightly treated by his friend +Mrs. Pott. At this moment the door of the shop +opened, and Lady Penelope Penfeather entered, +with her eternal <i>pendante</i>, the little Miss Digges.</p> + +<p>“Have you seen Mr. Mowbray?—Has Mr. +Mowbray of St. Ronan's been down this morning?—Do +you know any thing of Mr. Mowbray, Mrs. +Pott?” were questions which the lettered lady +eagerly huddled on the back of each other, scarcely +giving time to the lady of letters to return a decided +negative to all and each of them.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Mowbray was not about—was not coming +there this morning—his servant had just called for +letters and papers, and announced as much.”</p> + +<p>“Good Heaven! how unfortunate!” said Lady +Penelope, with a deep sigh, and sinking down on +one of the little sofas in an attitude of shocking +desolation, which called the instant attention of Mr. +Pott and his good woman, the first uncorking a +small phial of salts, for he was a pharmacopolist as +well as vender of literature and transmitter of letters, +and the other hastening for a glass of water. +A strong temptation thrilled from Lord Etherington's +eyes to his finger-ends. Two steps might +have brought him within arm's-length of the +unwatched packet, on the contents of which, in all +probability, rested the hope and claims of his rival +in honour and fortune; and, in the general confusion, +was it impossible to possess himself of it +unobserved? But no—no—no—the attempt was +too dreadfully dangerous to be risked; and, passing +from one extreme to another, he felt as if he was<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_201" id="vol_ii_Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> +incurring suspicion by suffering Lady Penelope to +play off her airs of affected distress and anxiety, +without seeming to take that interest in them which +her rank at least might be supposed to demand. +Stung with this apprehension, he hastened to +express himself so anxiously on the subject, and to +demonstrate so busily his wish to assist her ladyship, +that he presently stood committed a great +deal farther than he had intended. Lady Penelope +was infinitely obliged to his lordship—indeed, +it was her character in general not to permit herself +to be overcome by circumstances; but something +had happened, so strange, so embarrassing, so melancholy, +that she owned it had quite overcome her—notwithstanding, +she had at all times piqued +herself on supporting her own distresses, better +than she was able to suppress her emotions in +viewing those of others.</p> + +<p>“Could he be of any use?” Lord Etherington +asked. “She had enquired after Mr. Mowbray of St. +Ronan's—his servant was at her ladyship's service, +if she chose to send to command his attendance.”</p> + +<p>“Oh! no, no!” said Lady Penelope; “I dare +say, my dear lord, you will answer the purpose a +great deal better than Mr. Mowbray—that is, provided +you are a Justice of Peace.”</p> + +<p>“A Justice of Peace!” said Lord Etherington, +much surprised; “I am in the commission unquestionably, +but not for any Scotch county.”</p> + +<p>“O, that does not signify,” said Lady Penelope; +“and if you will trust yourself with me a little way, +I will explain to you how you can do one of the +most charitable, and kind, and generous things in +the world.”</p> + +<p>Lord Etherington's delight in the exercise of<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_202" id="vol_ii_Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> +charity, kindness, and generosity, was not so exuberant +as to prevent his devising some means for +evading Lady Penelope's request, when, looking +through the sash-door, he had a distant glance of +his servant Solmes approaching the Post-office.</p> + +<p>I have heard of a sheep-stealer who had rendered +his dog so skilful an accomplice in his nefarious +traffic, that he used to send him out to commit acts +of felony by himself, and had even contrived to +impress on the poor cur the caution that he should +not, on such occasions, seem even to recognise his +master, if they met accidentally.<a name="vol_ii_FNanchor_9_9" id="vol_ii_FNanchor_9_9"></a><a href="#vol_ii_Footnote_9_9" class="fnanchor">[9]</a> Apparently, Lord +Etherington conducted himself upon a similar principle; +for he had no sooner a glimpse of his agent, +than he seemed to feel the necessity of leaving the +stage free for his machinations.</p> + +<p>“My servant,” he said, with as much indifference +as he could assume, “will call for my letters—I +must attend Lady Penelope;” and, instantly proffering +his services as Justice of the Peace, or in +whatever other quality she chose to employ them, +he hastily presented his arm, and scarce gave her +ladyship time to recover from her state of languor +to the necessary degree of activity, ere he hurried +her from the shop; and, with her thin hatchet-face +chattering close to his ear, her yellow and scarlet +feathers crossing his nose, her lean right honourable +arm hooking his elbow, he braved the suppressed +titters and sneers of all the younger women whom +he met as they traversed the parade. One glance +of intelligence, though shot at a distance, passed +betwixt his lordship and Solmes, as the former left +the public walk under the guidance of Lady +Penelope, his limbs indeed obeying her pleasure,<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_203" id="vol_ii_Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> +and his ears dinned with her attempts to explain the +business in question, but his mind totally indifferent +where he was going, or ignorant on what +purpose, and exclusively occupied with the packet +in Mrs. Pott's heap of postponed letters, and its +probable fate.</p> + +<p>At length an effort of recollection made Lord +Etherington sensible that his abstraction must +seem strange, and, as his conscience told him, even +suspicious in the eyes of his companion; putting +therefore the necessary degree of constraint upon +himself, he expressed, for the first time, curiosity +to know where their walk was to terminate. It +chanced, that this was precisely the question which +he needed not to have asked, if he had paid but the +slightest attention to the very voluble communications +of her ladyship, which had all turned upon +this subject.</p> + +<p>“Now, my dear lord,” she said, “I must believe +you lords of the creation think us poor simple women +the vainest fools alive. I have told you how much +pain it costs me to speak about my little charities, +and yet you come to make me tell you the whole +story over again. But I hope, after all, your lordship +is not surprised at what I have thought it my +duty to do in this sad affair—perhaps I have listened +too much to the dictates of my own heart, which are +apt to be so deceitful.”</p> + +<p>On the watch to get at something explanatory, +yet afraid, by demanding it directly, to show that +the previous tide of narrative and pathos had been +lost on an inattentive ear, Lord Etherington could +only say, that Lady Penelope could not err in +acting according to the dictates of her own +judgment.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_204" id="vol_ii_Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span></p> + +<p>Still the compliment had not sauce enough for +the lady's sated palate; so, like a true glutton of +praise, she began to help herself with the soup-ladle.</p> + +<p>“Ah! judgment?—how is it you men know us +so little, that you think we can pause to weigh sentiment +in the balance of judgment?—that is +expecting rather too much from us poor victims of +our feelings. So that you must really hold me +excused if I forgot the errors of this guilty and +unhappy creature, when I looked upon her wretchedness—Not +that I would have my little friend, +Miss Digges, or your lordship, suppose that I am +capable of palliating the fault, while I pity the poor, +miserable sinner. Oh, no—Walpole's verses express +beautifully what one ought to feel on such +occasions—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">‘For never was the gentle breast<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Insensible to human woes;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Feeling, though firm, it melts distress'd<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For weaknesses it never knows.’”<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>“Most accursed of all <i>précieuses</i>,” thought his +lordship, “when wilt thou, amidst all thy chatter, +utter one word sounding like sense or information!”</p> + +<p>But, Lady Penelope went on—“If you knew, +my lord, how I lament my limited means on those +occasions! but I have gathered something among +the good people at the Well. I asked that selfish +wretch, Winterblossom, to walk down with me to +view her distress, and the heartless beast told me +he was afraid of infection!—infection from a puer—puerperal +fever! I should not perhaps pronounce +the word, but science is of no sex—however, I have +always used thieves' vinegar essence, and never have +gone farther than the threshold.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_205" id="vol_ii_Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span></p> + +<p>Whatever were Etherington's faults, he did not +want charity, so far as it consists in giving alms.</p> + +<p>“I am sorry,” he said, taking out his purse, +“your ladyship should not have applied to me.”</p> + +<p>“Pardon me, my lord, we only beg from our +friends; and your lordship is so constantly engaged +with Lady Binks, that we have rarely the pleasure +of seeing you in what I call <i>my</i> little circle.”</p> + +<p>Lord Etherington, without further answer, tendered +a couple of guineas, and observed, that the +poor woman should have medical attendance.</p> + +<p>“Why, so I say,” answered Lady Penelope; +“and I asked the brute Quackleben, who, I am +sure, owes me some gratitude, to go and see her; +but the sordid monster answered, ‘Who was to pay +him?’—He grows every day more intolerable, now +that he seems sure of marrying that fat blowzy +widow. He could not, I am sure, expect that I—out +of my pittance—And besides, my lord, is there +not a law that the parish, or the county, or the +something or other, shall pay for physicking the +poor?”</p> + +<p>“We will find means to secure the Doctor's +attendance,” said Lord Etherington; “and I believe +my best way will be to walk back to the Well, and +send him to wait on the patient. I am afraid I can +be of little use to a poor woman in a childbed fever.”</p> + +<p>“Puerperal, my lord, puerperal,” said Lady +Penelope, in a tone of correction.</p> + +<p>“In a puerperal fever, then,” said Lord Etherington; +“why, what can I do to help her?”</p> + +<p>“Oh! my lord, you have forgotten that this +Anne Heggie, that I told you of, came here with +one child in her arms—and another—in short, about +to become a mother again—and settled herself in<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_206" id="vol_ii_Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> +this miserable hut I told you of—and some people +think the minister should have sent her to her own +parish; but he is a strange, soft-headed, sleepy sort +of man, not over active in his parochial duties. +However, there she settled, and there was something +about her quite beyond the style of a common +pauper, my lord—not at all the disgusting sort of +person that you give a sixpence to while you look +another way—but some one that seemed to have +seen better days—one that, as Shakspeare says, +could a tale unfold—though, indeed, I have never +thoroughly learned her history—only, that to-day, +as I called to know how she was, and sent my maid +into her hut with some trifle, not worth mentioning, +I find there is something hangs about her mind concerning +the Mowbray family here of St. Ronan's—and +my woman says the poor creature is dying, and +is raving either for Mr. Mowbray or for some magistrate +to receive a declaration; and so I have given +you the trouble to come with me, that we may +get out of the poor creature, if possible, whatever +she has got to say.—I hope it is not murder—I hope +not—though young St. Ronan's has been a strange, +wild, daring, thoughtless creature—<i>sgherro insigne</i>, +as the Italian says.—But here is the hut, my lord—pray, +walk in.”</p> + +<p>The mention of the St. Ronan's family, and of a +secret relating to them, banished the thoughts which +Lord Etherington began to entertain of leaving +Lady Penelope to execute her works of devoted +charity without his assistance. It was now with an +interest equal to her own, that he stood before a most +miserable hut, where the unfortunate female, her +distresses not greatly relieved by Lady Penelope's +ostentatious bounty, had resided both previous to<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_207" id="vol_ii_Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> +her confinement, and since that event had taken +place, with an old woman, one of the parish poor, +whose miserable dole the minister had augmented, +that she might have some means of assisting the +stranger.</p> + +<p>Lady Penelope lifted the latch and entered, after +a momentary hesitation, which proceeded from a +struggle betwixt her fear of infection, and her eager +curiosity to know something, she could not guess +what, that might affect the Mowbrays in their +honour or fortunes. The latter soon prevailed, and +she entered, followed by Lord Etherington. The +lady, like other comforters of the cabins of the poor, +proceeded to rebuke the grumbling old woman for +want of order and cleanliness—censured the food +which was provided for the patient, and enquired +particularly after the wine which she had left to +make caudle with. The crone was not so dazzled +with Lady Penelope's dignity or bounty as to +endure her reprimand with patience. “They that +had their bread to won wi' ae arm,” she said, for +the other hung powerless by her side, “had mair +to do than to soop hooses; if her leddyship wad let +her ain idle quean of a lass take the besom, she +might make the house as clean as she liked; and +madam wad be a' the better of the exercise, and +wad hae done, at least, ae turn of wark at the +week's end.”</p> + +<p>“Do you hear the old hag, my lord?” said Lady +Penelope. “Well, the poor are horrid ungrateful +wretches—And the wine, dame—the wine?”</p> + +<p>“The wine!—there was hardly half a mutchkin, +and puir, thin, fusionless skink it was—the wine +was drank out, ye may swear—we didna fling it +ower our shouther—if ever we were to get good<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_208" id="vol_ii_Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> +o't, it was by taking it naked, and no wi' your sugar +and your slaisters—I wish, for ane, I had ne'er kend +the sour smack o't. If the bedral hadna gien me +a drap of usquebaugh, I might e'en hae died of your +leddyship's liquor, for”——</p> + +<p>Lord Etherington here interrupted the grumbling +crone, thrusting some silver into her grasp, +and at the same time begging her to be silent. +The hag weighed the crown-piece in her hand, and +crawled to her chimney-corner, muttering as she +went,—“This is something like—this is something +like—no like rinning into the house and out of the +house, and geeing orders, like mistress and mair, and +than a puir shilling again Saturday at e'en.”</p> + +<p>So saying, she sat down to her wheel, and seized, +while she spun, her jet-black cutty pipe, from which +she soon sent such clouds of vile mundungus vapour +as must have cleared the premises of Lady Penelope, +had she not been strong in purpose to share +the expected confession of the invalid. As for Miss +Digges, she coughed, sneezed, retched, and finally +ran out of the cottage, declaring she could not live +in such a smoke, if it were to hear twenty sick +women's last speeches; and that, besides, she was +sure to know all about it from Lady Penelope, if it +was ever so little worth telling over again.</p> + +<p>Lord Etherington was now standing beside the +miserable flock-bed, in which lay the poor patient, +distracted, in what seemed to be her dying moments, +with the peevish clamour of the elder infant, to +which she could only reply by low moans, turning +her looks as well as she could from its ceaseless +whine to the other side of her wretched couch, +where lay the unlucky creature to which she had +last given birth; its shivering limbs imperfectly<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_209" id="vol_ii_Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> +covered with a blanket, its little features already +swollen and bloated, and its eyes scarce open, +apparently insensible to the evils of a state from +which it seemed about to be speedily released.</p> + +<p>“You are very ill, poor woman,” said Lord +Etherington; “I am told you desire a magistrate.”</p> + +<p>“It was Mr. Mowbray of St. Ronan's, whom I +desired to see—John Mowbray of St. Ronan's—the +lady promised to bring him here.”</p> + +<p>“I am not Mowbray of St. Ronan's,” said Lord +Etherington; “but I am a justice of peace, and a +member of the legislature—I am, moreover, Mr. +Mowbray's particular friend, if I can be of use to +you in any of these capacities.”</p> + +<p>The poor woman remained long silent, and when +she spoke it was doubtfully.</p> + +<p>“Is my Lady Penelope Penfeather there?” she +said, straining her darkened eyes.</p> + +<p>“Her ladyship is present, and within hearing,” +said Lord Etherington.</p> + +<p>“My case is the worse,” answered the dying +woman, for so she seemed, “if I must communicate +such a secret as mine to a man of whom I know +nothing, and a woman of whom I only know that +she wants discretion.”</p> + +<p>“I—I want discretion!” said Lady Penelope; +but at a signal from Lord Etherington she seemed +to restrain herself; nor did the sick woman, whose +powers of observation were greatly impaired, seem +to be aware of the interruption. She spoke, notwithstanding +her situation, with an intelligible and +even emphatic voice; her manner in a great measure +betraying the influence of the fever, and her +tone and language seeming much superior to her +most miserable condition.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_210" id="vol_ii_Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I am not the abject creature which I seem,” +she said; “at least, I was not born to be so. I +wish I <i>were</i> that utter abject! I wish I were a +wretched pauper of the lowest class—a starving +vagabond—a wifeless mother—ignorance and +insensibility would make me bear my lot like the +outcast animal that dies patiently on the side of the +common, where it has been half-starved during its +life. But I—but I—born and bred to better things, +have not lost the memory of them, and they make +my present condition—my shame—my poverty—my +infamy—the sight of my dying babes—the +sense that my own death is coming fast on—they +make these things a foretaste of hell!”</p> + +<p>Lady Penelope's self-conceit and affectation were +broken down by this fearful exordium. She sobbed, +shuddered, and, for once perhaps in her life, felt the +real, not the assumed necessity, of putting her handkerchief +to her eyes. Lord Etherington also was +moved.</p> + +<p>“Good woman,” he said, “as far as relieving +your personal wants can mitigate your distress, I +will see that that is fully performed, and that your +poor children are attended to.”</p> + +<p>“May God bless you!” said the poor woman, +with a glance at the wretched forms beside her; +“and may you,” she added, after a momentary +pause, “deserve the blessing of God, for it is +bestowed in vain on those who are unworthy of it!”</p> + +<p>Lord Etherington felt, perhaps, a twinge of conscience; +for he said, something hastily, “Pray go +on, good woman, if you really have any thing to +communicate to me as a magistrate—it is time +your condition was somewhat mended, and I will +cause you to be cared for directly.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_211" id="vol_ii_Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Stop yet a moment,” she said; “let me unload +my conscience before I go hence, for no earthly +relief will long avail to prolong my time here.—I +was well born, the more my present shame! well +educated, the greater my present guilt!—I was +always, indeed, poor, but I felt not of the ills of +poverty. I only thought of it when my vanity +demanded idle and expensive gratifications, for real +wants I knew none. I was companion of a young +lady of higher rank than my own, my relative +however, and one of such exquisite kindness of +disposition, that she treated me as a sister, and +would have shared with me all that she had on +earth——I scarce think I can go farther with +my story!—something rises to my throat when I +recollect how I rewarded her sisterly love!—I was +elder than Clara—I should have directed her reading, +and confirmed her understanding; but my own +bent led me to peruse only works, which, though +they burlesque nature, are seductive to the imagination. +We read these follies together, until we +had fashioned out for ourselves a little world of +romance, and prepared ourselves for a maze of +adventures. Clara's imaginations were as pure as +those of angels; mine were—but it is unnecessary to +tell them. The fiend, always watchful, presented a +tempter at the moment when it was most dangerous.”</p> + +<p>She paused here, as if she found difficulty in +expressing herself; and Lord Etherington, turning, +with great appearance of interest, to Lady Penelope, +began to enquire, “Whether it were quite agreeable +to her ladyship to remain any longer an ear-witness +of this unfortunate's confession?—it seems to be +verging on some things—things that it might +be unpleasant for your ladyship to hear.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_212" id="vol_ii_Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span></p> + +<p>“I was just forming the same opinion, my lord; +and, to say truth, was about to propose to your lordship +to withdraw, and leave me alone with the poor +woman. My sex will make her necessary communications +more frank in your lordship's absence.”</p> + +<p>“True, madam; but then I am called here in +my capacity of a magistrate.”</p> + +<p>“Hush!” said Lady Penelope; “she speaks.”</p> + +<p>“They say every woman that yields, makes herself +a slave to her seducer; but I sold my liberty +not to a man, but a demon! He made me serve +him in his vile schemes against my friend and +patroness—and oh! he found in me an agent too +willing, from mere envy, to destroy the virtue +which I had lost myself. Do not listen to me any +more—Go, and leave me to my fate! I am the +most detestable wretch that ever lived—detestable +to myself worst of all, because even in my penitence +there is a secret whisper that tells me, that were I +as I have been, I would again act over all the wickedness +I have done, and much worse. Oh! for +Heaven's assistance, to crush the wicked thought!”</p> + +<p>She closed her eyes, folded her emaciated hands, +and held them upwards in the attitude of one who +prays internally; presently the hands separated, and +fell gently down on the miserable couch; but her +eyes did not open, nor was there the slightest sign +of motion in the features. Lady Penelope shrieked +faintly, hid her eyes, and hurried back from the bed, +while Lord Etherington, his looks darkening with +a complication of feelings, remained gazing on the +poor woman, as if eager to discern whether the +spark of life was totally extinct. Her grim old +assistant hurried to the bedside, with some spirits +in a broken glass.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_213" id="vol_ii_Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Have ye no had pennyworths for your charity?” +she said, in spiteful scorn. “Ye buy the +very life o' us wi' your shillings and sixpences, +your groats and your boddles—ye hae garr'd the +puir wretch speak till she swarfs, and now ye +stand as if ye never saw a woman in a dwam +before? Let me till her wi' the dram—mony +words mickle drought, ye ken—Stand out o' my +gate, my leddy, if sae be that ye are a leddy; +there is little use of the like of you when there +is death in the pot.”</p> + +<p>Lady Penelope, half affronted, but still more +frightened by the manners of the old hag, now +gladly embraced Lord Etherington's renewed offer +to escort her from the hut. He left it not, however, +without bestowing an additional gratuity on +the old woman, who received it with a whining +benediction.</p> + +<p>“The Almighty guide your course through the +troubles of this wicked warld—and the muckle +deevil blaw wind in your sails,” she added, in her +natural tone, as the guests vanished from her +miserable threshold. “A wheen cork-headed, +barmy-brained gowks! that wunna let puir folk +sae muckle as die in quiet, wi' their sossings and +their soopings.”<a name="vol_ii_FNanchor_10_10" id="vol_ii_FNanchor_10_10"></a><a href="#vol_ii_Footnote_10_10" class="fnanchor">[10]</a></p> + +<p>“This poor creature's declaration,” said Lord +Etherington to Lady Penelope, “seems to refer to +matters which the law has nothing to do with, +and which, perhaps, as they seem to implicate the +peace of a family of respectability, and the character +of a young lady, we ought to enquire no +farther after.”</p> + +<p>“I differ from your lordship,” said Lady Penelope;<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_214" id="vol_ii_Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> +“I differ extremely—I suppose you guess whom +her discourse touched upon?”</p> + +<p>“Indeed, your ladyship does my acuteness too +much honour.”</p> + +<p>“Did she not mention a Christian name?” said +Lady Penelope; “your lordship is strangely dull +this morning!”</p> + +<p>“A Christian name?—No, none that I heard—yes, +she said something about—a Catherine, I think +it was.”</p> + +<p>“Catherine!” answered the lady; “No, my lord, +it was Clara—rather a rare name in this country, +and belonging, I think, to a young lady of whom +your lordship should know something, unless your +evening flirtations with Lady Binks have blotted +entirely out of your memory your morning visits to +Shaws-Castle. You are a bold man, my lord. I +would advise you to include Mrs. Blower among the +objects of your attention, and then you will have +maid, wife, and widow upon your list.”</p> + +<p>“Upon my honour, your ladyship is too severe,” +said Lord Etherington; “you surround yourself +every evening with all that is clever and accomplished +among the people here, and then you ridicule +a poor secluded monster, who dare not approach +your charmed circle, because he seeks for some +amusement elsewhere. This is to tyrannize and +not to reign—it is Turkish despotism!”</p> + +<p>“Ah! my lord, I know you well, my lord,” said +Lady Penelope—“Sorry would your lordship be, +had you not power to render yourself welcome to +any circle which you may please to approach.”</p> + +<p>“That is to say,” answered the lord, “you will +pardon me if I intrude on your ladyship's coterie +this evening?”<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_215" id="vol_ii_Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span></p> + +<p>“There is no society which Lord Etherington +can think of frequenting, where he will not be a +welcome guest.”</p> + +<p>“I will plead then at once my pardon and privilege +this evening—And now,” (speaking as if he +had succeeded in establishing some confidence with +her ladyship,) “what do you really think of this +blind story?”</p> + +<p>“O, I must believe it concerns Miss Mowbray. +She was always an odd girl—something about her +I could never endure—a sort of effrontery—that +is, perhaps, a harsh word, but a kind of assurance—an +air of confidence—so that though I kept on a +footing with her, because she was an orphan girl +of good family, and because I really knew nothing +positively bad of her, yet she sometimes absolutely +shocked me.”</p> + +<p>“Your ladyship, perhaps, would not think it +right to give publicity to the story? at least, till +you know exactly what it is,” said the Earl, in a +tone of suggestion.</p> + +<p>“Depend upon it, that it is quite the worst, the +very worst—You heard the woman say that she had +exposed Clara to ruin—and you know she must +have meant Clara Mowbray, because she was so +anxious to tell the story to her brother, St. +Ronan's.”</p> + +<p>“Very true—I did not think of that,” answered +Lord Etherington; “still it would be hard on the +poor girl if it should get abroad.”</p> + +<p>“O, it will never get abroad for me,” said Lady +Penelope; “I would not tell the very wind of it. +But then I cannot meet Miss Mowbray as formerly—I +have a station in life to maintain, my lord—and +I am under the necessity of being select in my<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_216" id="vol_ii_Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> +society—it is a duty I owe the public, if it were +even not my own inclination.”</p> + +<p>“Certainly, my Lady Penelope,” said Lord +Etherington; “but then consider, that, in a place +where all eyes are necessarily observant of your +ladyship's behaviour, the least coldness on your part +to Miss Mowbray—and, after all, we have nothing +like assurance of any thing being wrong there—would +ruin her with the company here, and with +the world at large.”</p> + +<p>“Oh! my lord,” answered Lady Penelope, “as +for the truth of the story, I have some private reasons +of my own for ‘holding the strange tale +devoutly true;’ for I had a mysterious hint from +a very worthy, but a very singular man, (your +lordship knows how I adore originality,) the clergyman +of the parish, who made me aware there was +something wrong about Miss Clara—something +that—your lordship will excuse my speaking +more plainly,—Oh, no!—I fear—I fear it is all +too true—You know Mr. Cargill, I suppose, my +lord?”</p> + +<p>“Yes—no—I—I think I have seen him,” said +Lord Etherington. “But how came the lady to +make the parson her father-confessor?—they have +no auricular confession in the Kirk—it must have +been with the purpose of marriage, I presume—let +us hope that it took place—perhaps it really was +so—did he, Cargill—the minister, I mean—say +any thing of such a matter?”</p> + +<p>“Not a word—not a word—I see where you +are, my lord; you would put a good face on't.—</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">‘They call'd it marriage, by that specious name<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To veil the crime, and sanctify the shame.’<br /></span> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_217" id="vol_ii_Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span></div></div> + +<p>Queen Dido for that. How the clergyman came +into the secret I cannot tell—he is a very close +man. But I know he will not hear of Miss Mowbray +being married to any one, unquestionably +because he knows that, in doing so, she would +introduce disgrace into some honest family—and, +truly, I am much of his mind, my lord.”</p> + +<p>“Perhaps Mr. Cargill may know the lady is privately +married already,” said the Earl; “I think +that is the more natural inference, begging your +ladyship's pardon for presuming to differ in opinion.”</p> + +<p>Lady Penelope seemed determined not to take +this view of the case.</p> + +<p>“No, no—no, I tell you,” she replied; “she +cannot be married, for if she were married, how +could the poor wretch say that she was ruined?—You +know there is a difference betwixt ruin and +marriage.”</p> + +<p>“Some people are said to have found them synonymous, +Lady Penelope,” answered the Earl.</p> + +<p>“You are smart on me, my lord; but still, in +common parlance, when we say a woman is ruined, +we mean quite the contrary of her being married—it +is impossible for me to be more explicit upon +such a topic, my lord.”</p> + +<p>“I defer to your ladyship's better judgment,” +said Lord Etherington. “I only entreat you to +observe a little caution in this business—I will +make the strictest enquiries of this woman, and +acquaint you with the result; and I hope, out of +regard to the respectable family of St. Ronan's, your +ladyship will be in no hurry to intimate any thing +to Miss Mowbray's prejudice.”</p> + +<p>“I certainly am no person to spread scandal, +my lord,” answered the lady, drawing herself up;<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_218" id="vol_ii_Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span> +“at the same time, I must say, the Mowbrays have +little claim on me for forbearance. I am sure I +was the first person to bring this Spa into fashion, +which has been a matter of such consequence to +their estate; and yet Mr. Mowbray set himself +against me, my lord, in every possible sort of way, +and encouraged the under-bred people about him +to behave very strangely.—There was the business +of building the Belvidere, which he would not permit +to be done out of the stock-purse of the company, +because I had given the workmen the plan and the +orders—and then, about the tea-room—and the +hour for beginning dancing—and about the subscription +for Mr. Rymour's new Tale of Chivalry—in +short, I owe no consideration to Mr. Mowbray +of St. Ronan's.”</p> + +<p>“But the poor young lady?” said Lord +Etherington.</p> + +<p>“Oh! the poor young lady?—the poor young +lady can be as saucy as a rich young lady, I promise +you.—There was a business in which she used +me scandalously, Lord Etherington—it was about +a very trifling matter—a shawl. Nobody minds +dress less than I do, my lord; I thank Heaven my +thoughts turn upon very different topics—but it is +in trifles that disrespect and unkindness are shown; +and I have had a full share of both from Miss Clara, +besides a good deal of impertinence from her brother +upon the same subject.”</p> + +<p>“There is but one way remains,” thought the +Earl, as they approached the Spa, “and that is to +work on the fears of this d—d vindictive blue-stocking'd +wild-cat.—Your ladyship,” he said aloud, “is +aware what severe damages have been awarded in +late cases where something approaching to scandal<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_219" id="vol_ii_Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span> +has been traced to ladies of consideration—the +privileges of the tea-table have been found insufficient +to protect some fair critics against the consequences +of too frank and liberal animadversion upon the +characters of their friends. So pray, remember, that +as yet we know very little on this subject.”</p> + +<p>Lady Penelope loved money, and feared the law; +and this hint, fortified by her acquaintance with +Mowbray's love of his sister, and his irritable and +revengeful disposition, brought her in a moment +much nearer the temper in which Lord Etherington +wished to leave her. She protested, that no one +could be more tender than she of the fame of the +unfortunate, even supposing their guilt was fully +proved—promised caution on the subject of the +pauper's declaration, and hoped Lord Etherington +would join her tea-party early in the evening, as +she wished to make him acquainted with one or two +of her <i>protegés</i>, whom, she was sure, his lordship +would find deserving of his advice and countenance. +Being by this time at the door of her own apartment, +her ladyship took leave of the Earl with a +most gracious smile.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_220" id="vol_ii_Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span></p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol_ii_CHAPTER_XIV" id="vol_ii_CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV.</h2> + +<h3>DISAPPOINTMENT.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">On the lee-beam lies the land, boys,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">See all clear to reef each course;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Let the fore-sheet go, don't mind, boys,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Though the weather should be worse.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="citation"> +<i>The Storm.</i><br /> +</p> + + +<p>“It darkens round me like a tempest,” thought Lord +Etherington, as, with slow step, folded arms, and +his white hat slouched over his brows, he traversed +the short interval of space betwixt his own apartments +and those of the Lady Penelope. In a buck +of the old school, one of Congreve's men of wit +and pleasure about town, this would have been a +departure from character; but the present fine +man does not derogate from his quality, even by +exhibiting all the moody and gentlemanlike solemnity +of Master Stephen.<a name="vol_ii_FNanchor_C_15" id="vol_ii_FNanchor_C_15"></a><a href="#vol_ii_Footnote_C_15" class="fnanchor">[C]</a> So, Lord Etherington +was at liberty to carry on his reflections, without +attracting observation.—“I have put a stopper +into the mouth of that old vinegar-cruet of quality, +but the acidity of her temper will soon dissolve the +charm—And what to do?”</p> + +<p>As he looked round him, he saw his trusty valet +Solmes, who, touching his hat with due respect, said, +as he passed him, “Your lordship's letters are in +your private dispatch-box.”</p> + +<p>Simple as these words were, and indifferent the +tone in which they were spoken, their import made<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_221" id="vol_ii_Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span> +Lord Etherington's heart bound as if his fate had +depended on the accents. He intimated no farther +interest in the communication, however, than to +desire Solmes to be below, in case he should ring; +and with these words entered his apartment, and +barred and bolted the door, even before he looked +on the table where his dispatch-box was placed.</p> + +<p>Lord Etherington had, as is usual, one key to the +box which held his letters, his confidential servant +being intrusted with the other; so that, under the +protection of a patent lock, his dispatches escaped +all risk of being tampered with,—a precaution not +altogether unnecessary on the part of those who +frequent hotels and lodging-houses.</p> + +<p>“By your leave, Mr. Bramah,” said the Earl, as +he applied the key, jesting, as it were, with his own +agitation, as he would have done with that of a +third party. The lid was raised, and displayed the +packet, the appearance and superscription of which +had attracted his observation but a short while +before in the post-office. <i>Then</i> he would have +given much to be possessed of the opportunity +which was now in his power; but many pause on +the brink of a crime, who have contemplated it at +a distance without scruple. Lord Etherington's +first impulse had led him to poke the fire; and he +held in his hand the letter which he was more than +half tempted to commit, without even breaking the +seal, to the fiery element. But, though sufficiently +familiarized with guilt, he was not as yet acquainted +with it in its basest shapes—he had not yet acted +with meanness, or at least with what the world +terms such. He had been a duellist, the manners +of the age authorized it—a libertine, the world +excused it to his youth and condition—a bold<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_222" id="vol_ii_Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> +and successful gambler, for that quality he was +admired and envied; and a thousand other inaccuracies, +to which these practices and habits lead, +were easily slurred over in a man of quality, with +fortune and spirit to support his rank. But his +present meditated act was of a different kind. Tell +it not in Bond Street, whisper it not on St. James's +pavement!—it amounted to an act of petty larceny, +for which the code of honour would admit +of no composition.</p> + +<p>Lord Etherington, under the influence of these +recollections, stood for a few minutes suspended—But +the devil always finds logic to convince his followers. +He recollected the wrong done to his +mother, and to himself, her offspring, to whom his +father had, in the face of the whole world, imparted +the hereditary rights, of which he was now, by a +posthumous deed, endeavouring to deprive the +memory of the one and the expectations of the +other. Surely, the right being his own, he had a +full title, by the most effectual means, whatever +such means might be, to repel all attacks on that +right, and even destroy, if necessary, the documents +by which his enemies were prosecuting their unjust +plans against his honour and interest.</p> + +<p>This reasoning prevailed, and Lord Etherington +again held the devoted packet above the flames; +when it occurred to him, that, his resolution being +taken, he ought to carry it into execution as effectually +as possible; and to do so, it was necessary to +know, that the packet actually contained the papers +which he was desirous to destroy.</p> + +<p>Never did a doubt arise in juster time; for no +sooner had the seal burst, and the envelope rustled +under his fingers, than he perceived, to his utter<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_223" id="vol_ii_Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span> +consternation, that he held in his hand only the +copies of the deeds for which Francis Tyrrel had +written, the originals of which he had too sanguinely +concluded would be forwarded according to +his requisition. A letter from a partner of the house +with which they were deposited, stated, that they +had not felt themselves at liberty, in the absence of +the head of their firm, to whom these papers had +been committed, to part with them even to Mr. +Tyrrel, though they had proceeded so far as to open +the parcel, and now transmitted to him formal copies +of the papers contained in it, which, they presumed, +would serve Mr. Tyrrel's purpose for consulting +counsel, or the like. They themselves, in a case of so +much delicacy, and in the absence of their principal +partner, were determined to retain the originals, +unless called to produce them in a court of justice.</p> + +<p>With a solemn imprecation on the formality and +absurdity of the writer, Lord Etherington let the +letter of advice drop from his hand into the fire, +and throwing himself into a chair, passed his hand +across his eyes, as if their very power of sight had +been blighted by what he had read. His title, and +his paternal fortune, which he thought but an +instant before might be rendered unchallengeable by +a single movement of his hand, seemed now on the +verge of being lost for ever. His rapid recollection +failed not to remind him of what was less known to +the world, that his early and profuse expenditure +had greatly dilapidated his maternal fortune; and +that the estate of Nettlewood, which five minutes +ago he only coveted as a wealthy man desires +increase of his store, must now be acquired, if he +would avoid being a poor and embarrassed spendthrift. +To impede his possessing himself of this<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_224" id="vol_ii_Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span> +property, fate had restored to the scene the penitent +of the morning, who, as he had too much reason to +believe, was returned to this neighbourhood, to do +justice to Clara Mowbray, and who was not unlikely +to put the whole story of the marriage on its right +footing. She, however, might be got rid of; and +it might still be possible to hurry Miss Mowbray, +by working on her fears, or through the agency of +her brother, into a union with him while he still +preserved the title of Lord Etherington. This, therefore, +he resolved to secure, if effort or if intrigue +could carry the point; nor was it the least consideration, +that, should he succeed, he would obtain +over Tyrrel, his successful rival, such a triumph, as +would be sufficient to embitter the tranquillity of +his whole life.</p> + +<p>In a few minutes, his rapid and contriving +invention had formed a plan for securing the sole +advantage which seemed to remain open for him; +and conscious that he had no time to lose, he +entered immediately upon the execution.</p> + +<p>The bell summoned Solmes to his lordship's +apartment, when the Earl, as coolly as if he had +hoped to dupe his experienced valet by such an +assertion, said, “You have brought me a packet +designed for some man at the Aultoun—let it be +sent to him—Stay,—I will re-seal it first.”</p> + +<p>He accordingly re-sealed the packet, containing +all the writings, excepting the letter of advice, +(which he had burnt,) and gave it to the valet, with +the caution, “I wish you would not make such +blunders in future.”</p> + +<p>“I beg your lordship's pardon—I will take better +care again—thought it was addressed to your +lordship.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_225" id="vol_ii_Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span></p> + +<p>So answered Solmes, too knowing to give the least +look of intelligence, far less to remind the Earl +that his own directions had occasioned the mistake +of which he complained.</p> + +<p>“Solmes,” continued the Earl, “you need not +mention your blunder at the post-office; it would +only occasion tattle in this idle place—but be sure +that the gentleman has his letter.—And, Solmes, +I see Mr. Mowbray walk across—ask him to dine +with me to-day at five. I have a headache, and cannot +face the clamour of the savages who feed at the +public table.—And let me see—make my compliments +to Lady Penelope Penfeather—I will +certainly have the honour of waiting on her ladyship +this evening to tea, agreeably to her very +boring invitation received—write her a proper +card, and word it your own way. Bespeak dinner +for two, and see you have some of that batch of +Burgundy.” The servant was retiring, when his +master added, “Stay a moment—I have a more +important business than I have yet mentioned.—Solmes, +you have managed devilish ill about the +woman Irwin!”</p> + +<p>“I, my lord?” answered Solmes.</p> + +<p>“Yes, you, sir—did you not tell me she had gone +to the West Indies with a friend of yours, and did +not I give them a couple of hundred pounds for +passage-money?”</p> + +<p>“Yes, my lord,” replied the valet.</p> + +<p>“Ay, but now it proves <i>no</i>, my lord,” said Lord +Etherington; “for she has found her way back to +this country in miserable plight—half-starved, and, +no doubt, willing to do or say any thing for a livelihood—How +has this happened?”</p> + +<p>“Biddulph must have taken her cash, and turned<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_226" id="vol_ii_Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span> +her loose, my lord,” answered Solmes, as if he had +been speaking of the most commonplace transaction +in the world; “but I know the woman's nature +so well, and am so much master of her history, +that I can carry her off the country in twenty-four +hours, and place her where she will never think of +returning, provided your lordship can spare me so +long.”</p> + +<p>“About it directly—but I can tell you, that you +will find the woman in a very penitential humour, +and very ill in health to boot.”</p> + +<p>“I am sure of my game,” answered Solmes; +“with submission to your lordship, I think if death +and her good angel had hold of one of that woman's +arms, the devil and I could make a shift to lead her +away by the other.”</p> + +<p>“Away and about it, then,” said Etherington. +“But, hark ye, Solmes, be kind to her, and see +all her wants relieved. I have done her mischief +enough—though nature and the devil had done half +the work to my hand.”</p> + +<p>Solmes at length was permitted to withdraw to +execute his various commissions, with an assurance +that his services would not be wanted for the next +twenty-four hours.</p> + +<p>“Soh!” said the Earl, as his agent withdrew, +“there is a spring put in motion, which, well oiled, +will move the whole machine—And here, in lucky +time, comes Harry Jekyl—I hear his whistle on +the stairs.—There is a silly lightness of heart about +that fellow, which I envy, while I despise it; but he +is welcome now, for I want him.”</p> + +<p>Jekyl entered accordingly, and broke out with +“I am glad to see one of your fellows laying a cloth +for two in your parlour, Etherington—I was afraid<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_227" id="vol_ii_Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span> +you were going down among these confounded bores +again to-day.”</p> + +<p>“<i>You</i> are not to be one of the two, Hal,” answered +Lord Etherington.</p> + +<p>“No?—then I may be a third, I hope, if not +second?”</p> + +<p>“Neither first, second, nor third, Captain.—The +truth is, I want a tête-à-tête with Mr. Mowbray of +St. Ronan's,” replied the Earl; “and, besides, I +have to beg the very particular favour of you to go +again to that fellow Martigny. It is time that he +should produce his papers, if he has any—of which, +for one, I do not believe a word. He has had ample +time to hear from London; and I think I have +delayed long enough in an important matter upon +his bare assertion.”</p> + +<p>“I cannot blame your impatience,” said Jekyl, +“and I will go on your errand instantly. As you +waited on my advice, I am bound to find an end +to your suspense.—At the same time, if the man is +not possessed of such papers as he spoke of, I must +own he is happy in a command of consummate +assurance, which might set up the whole roll of +attorneys.”</p> + +<p>“You will be soon able to judge of that,” said +Lord Etherington; “and now, off with you—Why +do you look at me so anxiously?”</p> + +<p>“I cannot tell—I have strange forebodings about +this tête-à-tête with Mowbray. You should spare +him, Etherington—he is not your match—wants +both judgment and temper.”</p> + +<p>“Tell him so, Jekyl,” answered the Earl, “and +his proud Scotch stomach will be up in an instant, +and he will pay you with a shot for your pains.—Why, +he thinks himself cock of the walk, this<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_228" id="vol_ii_Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> +strutting bantam, notwithstanding the lesson I gave +him before—And what do you think?—He has the +impudence to talk about my attentions to Lady +Binks as inconsistent with the prosecution of my +suit to his sister! Yes, Hal—this awkward Scotch +laird, that has scarce tact enough to make love to +a ewe-milker, or, at best, to some daggletailed +soubrette, has the assurance to start himself as my +rival!”</p> + +<p>“Then, good-night to St. Ronan's!—this will be +a fatal dinner to him.—Etherington, I know by that +laugh you are bent on mischief—I have a great +mind to give him a hint.”</p> + +<p>“I wish you would,” answered the Earl; “it +would all turn to my account.”</p> + +<p>“Do you defy me?—Well, if I meet him, I will +put him on his guard.”</p> + +<p>The friends parted; and it was not long ere +Jekyl encountered Mowbray on one of the public +walks.</p> + +<p>“You dine with Etherington to-day?” said the +Captain—“Forgive me, Mr. Mowbray, if I say one +single word—Beware.”</p> + +<p>“Of what should I beware, Captain Jekyl,” +answered Mowbray, “when I dine with a friend of +your own, and a man of honour?”</p> + +<p>“Certainly Lord Etherington is both, Mr. Mowbray; +but he loves play, and is too hard for most +people.”</p> + +<p>“I thank you for your hint, Captain Jekyl—I +am a raw Scotchman, it is true; but yet I know +a thing or two. Fair play is always presumed +amongst gentlemen; and that taken for granted, +I have the vanity to think I need no one's caution +on the subject, not even Captain Jekyl's, though<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_229" id="vol_ii_Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span> +his experience must needs be so much superior +to mine.”</p> + +<p>“In that case, sir,” said Jekyl, bowing coldly, +“I have no more to say, and I hope there is no +harm done.—Conceited coxcomb!” he added, mentally, +as they parted, “how truly did Etherington +judge of him, and what an ass was I to intermeddle!—I +hope Etherington will strip him of +every feather!”</p> + +<p>He pursued his walk in quest of Tyrrel, and +Mowbray proceeded to the apartments of the Earl, +in a temper of mind well suited to the purposes of +the latter, who judged of his disposition accurately +when he permitted Jekyl to give his well-meant +warning. To be supposed, by a man of acknowledged +fashion, so decidedly inferior to his antagonist—to +be considered as an object of compassion, and +made the subject of a good-boy warning, was gall +and bitterness to his proud spirit, which, the more +that he felt a conscious inferiority in the arts which +they all cultivated, struggled the more to preserve +the footing of at least apparent equality.</p> + +<p>Since the first memorable party at piquet, Mowbray +had never hazarded his luck with Lord +Etherington, except for trifling stakes; but his conceit +led him to suppose that he now fully understood +his play, and, agreeably to the practice of those +who have habituated themselves to gambling, he +had every now and then felt a yearning to try for +his revenge. He wished also to be out of Lord +Etherington's debt, feeling galled under a sense of +pecuniary obligation, which hindered his speaking +his mind to him fully upon the subject of his flirtation +with Lady Binks, which he justly considered +as an insult to his family, considering the footing<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_230" id="vol_ii_Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span> +on which the Earl seemed desirous to stand with +Clara Mowbray. From these obligations a favourable +evening might free him, and Mowbray was, +in fact, indulging in a waking dream to this purpose, +when Jekyl interrupted him. His untimely +warning only excited a spirit of contradiction, and +a determination to show the adviser how little he +was qualified to judge of his talents; and in this +humour, his ruin, which was the consequence of +that afternoon, was far from seeming to be the +premeditated, or even the voluntary work of the +Earl of Etherington.</p> + +<p>On the contrary, the victim himself was the first +to propose play—deep play—double stakes; while +Lord Etherington, on the other hand, often proposed +to diminish their game, or to break off entirely; +but it was always with an affectation of superiority +which only stimulated Mowbray to farther and +more desperate risks; and, at last, when Mowbray +became his debtor to an overwhelming amount, (his +circumstances considered,) the Earl threw down +the cards, and declared he should be too late for +Lady Penelope's tea-party, to which he was positively +engaged.</p> + +<p>“Will you not give me my revenge?” said Mowbray, +taking up the cards, and shuffling them with +fierce anxiety.</p> + +<p>“Not now, Mowbray; we have played too long +already—you have lost too much—more than perhaps +is convenient for you to pay.”</p> + +<p>Mowbray gnashed his teeth, in spite of his resolution +to maintain an exterior, at least, of firmness.</p> + +<p>“You can take your time, you know,” said the +Earl; “a note of hand will suit me as well as the +money.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_231" id="vol_ii_Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span></p> + +<p>“No, by G—!” answered Mowbray, “I will not +be so taken in a second time—I had better have +sold myself to the devil than to your lordship—I +have never been my own man since.”</p> + +<p>“These are not very kind expressions, Mowbray,” +said the Earl; “you <i>would</i> play, and they +that will play must expect sometimes to lose”——</p> + +<p>“And they who win will expect to be paid,” said +Mowbray, breaking in. “I know that as well as +you, my lord, and you shall be paid—I will pay +you—I will pay you, by G—! Do you make +any doubt that I will pay you, my lord?”</p> + +<p>“You look as if you thought of paying me in +sharp coin,” said Lord Etherington; “and I think +that would scarce be consistent with the terms we +stand upon towards each other.”</p> + +<p>“By my soul, my lord,” said Mowbray, “I cannot +tell what these terms are; and to be at my wit's +end at once, I should be glad to know. You set out +upon paying addresses to my sister, and with your +visits and opportunities at Shaws-Castle, I cannot +find the matter makes the least progress—it keeps +moving without advancing, like a child's rocking-horse. +Perhaps you think that you have curbed +me up so tightly, that I dare not stir in the matter; +but you will find it otherwise.—Your lordship may +keep a haram if you will, but my sister shall not +enter it.”</p> + +<p>“You are angry, and therefore you are unjust,” +said Etherington; “you know well enough it is +your sister's fault that there is any delay. I am +most willing—most desirous—to call her Lady +Etherington—nothing but her unlucky prejudices +against me have retarded a union which I have so +many reasons for desiring.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_232" id="vol_ii_Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Well,” replied Mowbray, “that shall be my +business. I know no reason she can pretend to +decline a marriage so honourable to her house, and +which is approved of by me, that house's head. +That matter shall be arranged in twenty-four +hours.”</p> + +<p>“It will do me the most sensible pleasure,” said +Lord Etherington; “you shall soon see how sincerely +I desire your alliance; and as for the trifle +you have lost”——</p> + +<p>“It is no trifle to me, my lord—it is my ruin—but +it shall be paid—and let me tell your lordship, +you may thank your good luck for it more than +your good play.”</p> + +<p>“We will say no more of it at present, if you +please,” said Lord Etherington, “to-morrow is a +new day; and if you will take my advice, you will +not be too harsh with your sister. A little firmness +is seldom amiss with young women, but +severity”——</p> + +<p>“I will pray your lordship to spare me your +advice on this subject. However valuable it may be +in other respects, I can, I take it, speak to my own +sister in my own way.”</p> + +<p>“Since you are so caustically-disposed, Mowbray,” +answered the Earl, “I presume you will not +honour her ladyship's tea-table to-night, though I +believe it will be the last of the season?”</p> + +<p>“And why should you think so, my lord?” +answered Mowbray, whose losses had rendered him +testy and contradictory upon every subject that +was started. “Why should not I pay my respects +to Lady Penelope, or any other tabby of quality? +I have no title, indeed; but I suppose that my +family”—<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_233" id="vol_ii_Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span>—</p> + +<p>“Entitles you to become a canon of Strasburgh<a name="vol_ii_FNanchor_D_16" id="vol_ii_FNanchor_D_16"></a><a href="#vol_ii_Footnote_D_16" class="fnanchor">[D]</a> +doubtless—But you do not seem in +a very Christian mood for taking orders. All I +meant to say was, that you and Lady Pen were +not used to be on such a good footing.”</p> + +<p>“Well, she sent me a card for her blow-out,” +said Mowbray; “and so I am resolved to go. When +I have been there half an hour, I will ride up to +Shaws-Castle, and you shall hear of my speed in +wooing for you to-morrow morning.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_234" id="vol_ii_Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol_ii_CHAPTER_XV" id="vol_ii_CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV.</h2> + +<h3>A TEA-PARTY.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And while the bubbling and loud-hissing urn<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Throws up a steamy column, and the cups<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That cheer, but not inebriate, wait on each,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thus let us welcome peaceful evening in.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="citation"> +Cowper's <i>Task</i>.<br /> +</p> + + +<p>The approach of the cold and rainy season had +now so far thinned the company at the Well, that, +in order to secure the necessary degree of crowd +upon her tea-nights, Lady Penelope was obliged to +employ some coaxing towards those whom she had +considered as much under par in society. Even the +Doctor and Mrs. Blower were graciously smiled +upon—for their marriage was now an arranged +affair; and the event was of a nature likely to +spread the reputation of the Spa among wealthy +widows, and medical gentlemen of more skill than +practice. So in they came, the Doctor smirking, +gallanting, and performing all the bustling parade of +settled and arranged courtship, with much of that +grace wherewith a turkey-cock goes through the +same ceremony. Old Touchwood had also attended +her ladyship's summons, chiefly, it may be supposed, +from his restless fidgety disposition, which seldom +suffered him to remain absent even from those +places of resort of which he usually professed his<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_235" id="vol_ii_Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span> +detestation. There was, besides, Mr. Winterblossom, +who, in his usual spirit of quiet epicurism +and self-indulgence, was, under the fire of a volley +of compliments to Lady Penelope, scheming to +secure for himself an early cup of tea. There was +Lady Binks also, with the wonted degree of sullenness +in her beautiful face, angry at her husband +as usual, and not disposed to be pleased with Lord +Etherington for being absent, when she desired to +excite Sir Bingo's jealousy. This she had discovered +to be the most effectual way of tormenting the +Baronet, and she rejoiced in it with the savage glee +of a hackney coachman, who has found a <i>raw</i>, +where he can make his poor jade feel the whip. +The rest of the company were also in attendance as +usual. MacTurk himself was present, notwithstanding +that he thought it an egregious waste of +hot water, to bestow it upon compounding any mixture +saving punch. He had of late associated +himself a good deal with the traveller; not that +they by any means resembled each other in temper +or opinions, but rather because there was that +degree of difference betwixt them which furnished +perpetual subject for dispute and discussion. They +were not long, on the present occasion, ere they +lighted on a fertile source of controversy.</p> + +<p>“Never tell me of your points of honour,” said +Touchwood, raising his voice altogether above the +general tone of polite conversation—“all humbug, +Captain MacTurk—mere hair-traps to springe +woodcocks—men of sense break through them.”</p> + +<p>“Upon my word, sir,” said the Captain, “and +myself is surprised to hear you—for, look you, +sir, every man's honour is the breath of his nostrils—Cot +tamn!”<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_236" id="vol_ii_Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Then, let men breathe through their mouths, +and be d—d,” returned the controversialist. “I tell +you, sir, that, besides its being forbidden, both by +law and gospel, it's an idiotical and totally absurd +practice, that of duelling. An honest savage has +more sense than to practise it—he takes his bow +or his gun, as the thing may be, and shoots his +enemy from behind a bush. And a very good way; +for you see there can, in that case, be only one +man's death between them.”</p> + +<p>“Saul of my body, sir,” said the Captain, “gin +ye promulgate sic doctrines amang the good company, +it's my belief you will bring somebody to the +gallows.”</p> + +<p>“Thank ye, Captain, with all my heart; but I +stir up no quarrels—I leave war to them that live +by it. I only say, that, except our old, stupid +ancestors in the north-west here, I know no country +so silly as to harbour this custom of duelling. It +is unknown in Africa, among the negroes—in +America.”</p> + +<p>“Don't tell me that,” said the Captain; “a +Yankee will fight with muskets and buck-shot, +rather than sit still with an affront. I should +know Jonathan, I think.”</p> + +<p>“Altogether unknown among the thousand tribes +of India.”</p> + +<p>“I'll be tamned, then!” said Captain MacTurk. +“Was I not in Tippoo's prison at Bangalore? and, +when the joyful day of our liberation came, did we +not solemnize it with fourteen little affairs, whereof +we had been laying the foundation in our house of +captivity, as holy writ has it, and never went farther +to settle them than the glacis of the fort? By my +soul, you would have thought there was a smart<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_237" id="vol_ii_Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span> +skirmish, the firing was so close; and did not I, +Captain MacTurk, fight three of them myself, without +moving my foot from the place I set it on?”</p> + +<p>“And pray, sir, what might be the result of this +Christian mode of giving thanks for your deliverance?” +demanded Mr. Touchwood.</p> + +<p>“A small list of casualties, after all,” said the +Captain; “one killed on the spot, one died of his +wounds—two wounded severely—three ditto +slightly, and little Duncan Macphail reported missing. +We were out of practice, after such long +confinement. So you see how we manage matters +in India, my dear friend.”</p> + +<p>“You are to understand,” replied Touchwood, +“that I spoke only of the heathen natives, who, +heathen as they are, live in the light of their own +moral reason, and among whom ye shall therefore +see better examples of practical morality than +among such as yourselves; who, though calling +yourselves Christians, have no more knowledge of +the true acceptation and meaning of your religion, +than if you had left your Christianity at the Cape +of Good Hope, as they say of you, and forgot to +take it up when you come back again.”</p> + +<p>“Py Cot! and I can tell you, sir,” said the Captain, +elevating at once his voice and his nostrils, +and snuffing the air with a truculent and indignant +visage, “that I will not permit you or any man to +throw any such scandal on my character.—I thank +Cot, I can bring good witness that I am as good a +Christian as another, for a poor sinner, as the best +of us are; and I am ready to justify my religion +with my sword—Cot tamn!—Compare my own +self with a parcel of black heathen bodies and +natives, that were never in the inner side of a kirk<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_238" id="vol_ii_Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> +whilst they lived, but go about worshipping stocks +and stones, and swinging themselves upon bamboos, +like peasts, as they are!”</p> + +<p>An indignant growling in his throat, which +sounded like the acquiescence of his inward man +in the indignant proposition which his external +organs thus expressed, concluded this haughty +speech, which, however, made not the least impression +on Touchwood, who cared as little for angry +tones and looks as he did for fine speeches. So +that it is likely a quarrel between the Christian +preceptor and the peacemaker might have occurred +for the amusement of the company, had not the +attention of both, but particularly that of Touchwood, +been diverted from the topic of debate by the +entrance of Lord Etherington and Mowbray.</p> + +<p>The former was, as usual, all grace, smiles, and +gentleness. Yet, contrary to his wonted custom, +which usually was, after a few general compliments, +to attach himself particularly to Lady Binks, the +Earl, on the present occasion, avoided the side of +the room on which that beautiful but sullen idol +held her station, and attached himself exclusively +to Lady Penelope Penfeather, enduring, without +flinching, the strange variety of conceited <i>bavardage</i>, +which that lady's natural parts and acquired +information enabled her to pour forth with unparalleled +profusion.</p> + +<p>An honest heathen, one of Plutarch's heroes, if I +mistake not,<a name="vol_ii_FNanchor_E_17" id="vol_ii_FNanchor_E_17"></a><a href="#vol_ii_Footnote_E_17" class="fnanchor">[E]</a> dreamed once upon a night, that the +figure of Proserpina, whom he had long worshipped, +visited his slumbers with an angry and vindictive +countenance, and menaced him with vengeance, in +resentment of his having neglected her altars, with +the usual fickleness of a polytheist, for those of some<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_239" id="vol_ii_Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> +more fashionable divinity. Not that goddess of +the infernal regions herself could assume a more +haughty or more displeased countenance than that +with which Lady Binks looked from time to time +upon Lord Etherington, as if to warn him of the +consequence of this departure from the allegiance +which the young Earl had hitherto manifested +towards her, and which seemed now, she knew +not why, unless it were for the purpose of public +insult, to be transferred to her rival. Perilous as +her eye-glances were, and much as they menaced, +Lord Etherington felt at this moment the importance +of soothing Lady Penelope to silence on the +subject of the invalid's confession of that morning, +to be more pressing than that of appeasing the +indignation of Lady Binks. The former was a case +of the most urgent necessity—the latter, if he was +at all anxious on the subject, might, he perhaps +thought, be trusted to time. Had the ladies continued +on a tolerable footing together, he might +have endeavoured to conciliate both. But the bitterness +of their long-suppressed feud had greatly +increased, now that it was probable the end of the +season was to separate them, in all likelihood for +ever; so that Lady Penelope had no longer any +motive for countenancing Lady Binks, or the lady +of Sir Bingo for desiring Lady Penelope's countenance. +The wealth and lavish expense of the one +was no longer to render more illustrious the suit +of her right honourable friend, nor was the society +of Lady Penelope likely to be soon again useful or +necessary to Lady Binks. So that neither were any +longer desirous to suppress symptoms of the mutual +contempt and dislike which they had long nourished +for each other; and whoever should, in this decisive<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_240" id="vol_ii_Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> +hour, take part with one, had little henceforward to +expect from her rival. What farther and more private +reasons Lady Binks might have to resent the +defection of Lord Etherington, have never come +with certainty to our knowledge; but it was said +there had been high words between them on the +floating report that his lordship's visits to Shaws-Castle +were dictated by the wish to find a bride +there.</p> + +<p>Women's wits are said to be quick in spying the +surest means of avenging a real or supposed slight. +After biting her pretty lips, and revolving in her +mind the readiest means of vengeance, fate threw +in her way young Mowbray of St. Ronan's. She +looked at him, and endeavoured to fix his attention +with a nod and gracious smile, such as in an ordinary +mood would have instantly drawn him to her +side. On receiving in answer only a vacant glance +and a bow, she was led to observe him more +attentively, and was induced to believe, from his +wavering look, varying complexion, and unsteady +step, that he had been drinking unusually deep. +Still his eye was less that of an intoxicated than of +a disturbed and desperate man, one whose faculties +were engrossed by deep and turbid reflection, which +withdrew him from the passing scene.</p> + +<p>“Do you observe how ill Mr. Mowbray looks?” +said she, in a loud whisper; “I hope he has not +heard what Lady Penelope was just now saying of +his family?”</p> + +<p>“Unless he hears it from you, my lady,” answered +Mr. Touchwood, who, upon Mowbray's entrance, had +broken off his discourse with MacTurk, “I think +there is little chance of his learning it from any +other person.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_241" id="vol_ii_Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span></p> + +<p>“What is the matter?” said Mowbray, sharply, +addressing Chatterly and Winterblossom; but the +one shrunk nervously from the question, protesting, +he indeed had not been precisely attending to what +had been passing among the ladies, and Winterblossom +bowed out of the scrape with quiet and cautious +politeness—“he really had not given particular +attention to what was passing—I was negotiating +with Mrs. Jones for an additional lump of sugar to +my coffee.—Egad, it was so difficult a piece of +diplomacy,” he added, sinking his voice, “that I +have an idea her ladyship calculates the West +India produce by grains and pennyweights.”</p> + +<p>The innuendo, if designed to make Mowbray smile, +was far from succeeding. He stepped forward, with +more than usual stiffness in his air, which was never +entirely free from self-consequence, and said to Lady +Binks, “May I request to know of your ladyship +what particular respecting my family had the honour +to engage the attention of the company?”</p> + +<p>“I was only a listener, Mr. Mowbray,” returned +Lady Binks, with evident enjoyment of the rising +indignation which she read in his countenance; +“not being queen of the night, I am not at all +disposed to be answerable for the turn of the +conversation.”</p> + +<p>Mowbray, in no humour to bear jesting, yet +afraid to expose himself by farther enquiry in a +company so public, darted a fierce look at Lady +Penelope, then in close conversation with Lord +Etherington,—advanced a step or two towards +them,—then, as if checking himself, turned on his +heel, and left the room. A few minutes afterwards, +and when certain satirical nods and winks were circulating +among the assembly, a waiter slid a piece<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_242" id="vol_ii_Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span> +of paper into Mrs. Jones's hand, who, on looking at +the contents, seemed about to leave the room.</p> + +<p>“Jones—Jones!” exclaimed Lady Penelope, in +surprise and displeasure.</p> + +<p>“Only the key of the tea-caddie, your ladyship,” +answered Jones; “I will be back in an instant.”</p> + +<p>“Jones—Jones!” again exclaimed her mistress, +“here is enough”—of tea, she would have said; +but Lord Etherington was so near her, that she was +ashamed to complete the sentence, and had only +hope in Jones's quickness of apprehension, and the +prospect that she would be unable to find the key +which she went in search of.</p> + +<p>Jones, meanwhile, tripped off to a sort of housekeeper's +apartment, of which she was <i>locum tenens</i> +for the evening, for the more ready supply of whatever +might be wanted on Lady Penelope's night, +as it was called. Here she found Mr. Mowbray of +St. Ronan's, whom she instantly began to assail +with, “La! now, Mr. Mowbray, you are such another +gentleman!—I am sure you will make me lose my +place—I'll swear you will—what can you have to +say, that you could not as well put off for an +hour?”</p> + +<p>“I want to know, Jones,” answered Mowbray, in +a different tone, perhaps, from what the damsel +expected, “what your lady was just now saying +about my family.”</p> + +<p>“Pshaw!—was that all?” answered Mrs. Jones. +“What should she be saying?—nonsense—Who +minds what she says?—I am sure I never do, for +one.”</p> + +<p>“Nay, but, my dear Jones,” said Mowbray, “I +insist upon knowing—I must know, and I <i>will</i> +know.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_243" id="vol_ii_Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span></p> + +<p>“La! Mr. Mowbray, why should I make mischief?—As +I live, I hear some one coming! and if you +were found speaking with me here—indeed, indeed, +some one is coming!”</p> + +<p>“The devil may come, if he will!” said Mowbray, +“but we do not part, pretty mistress, till you tell +me what I wish to know.”</p> + +<p>“Lord, sir, you frighten me!” answered Jones; +“but all the room heard it as well as I—it was +about Miss Mowbray—and that my lady would be +shy of her company hereafter—for that she was—she +was”——</p> + +<p>“For that my sister was <i>what</i>?” said Mowbray, +fiercely, seizing her arm.</p> + +<p>“Lord, sir, you terrify me!” said Jones, beginning +to cry; “at any rate, it was not I that said it—it +was Lady Penelope.”</p> + +<p>“And what was it the old, adder-tongued madwoman +dared to say of Clara Mowbray?—Speak +out plainly, and directly, or, by Heaven, I'll make +you!”</p> + +<p>“Hold, sir—hold, for God's sake!—you will +break my arm,” answered the terrified handmaiden. +“I am sure I know no harm of Miss Mowbray; +only, my lady spoke as if she was no better than +she ought to be.—Lord, sir, there is some one listening +at the door!”—and making a spring out of +his grasp, she hastened back to the room in which +the company were assembled.</p> + +<p>Mowbray stood petrified at the news he had +heard, ignorant alike what could be the motive for +a calumny so atrocious, and uncertain what he were +best do to put a stop to the scandal. To his farther +confusion, he was presently convinced of the truth +of Mrs. Jones's belief that they had been watched,<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_244" id="vol_ii_Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span> +for, as he went to the door of the apartment, he was +met by Mr. Touchwood.</p> + +<p>“What has brought you here, sir?” said Mowbray, +sternly.</p> + +<p>“Hoitie toitie,” answered the traveller, “why, +how came <i>you</i> here, if you go to that, squire?—Egad, +Lady Penelope is trembling for her souchong, +so I just took a step here to save her +ladyship the trouble of looking after Mrs. Jones +in person, which, I think, might have been a worse +interruption than mine, Mr. Mowbray.”</p> + +<p>“Pshaw, sir, you talk nonsense,” said Mowbray; +“the tea-room is so infernally hot, that I had sat +down here a moment to draw breath, when the +young woman came in.”</p> + +<p>“And you are going to run away, now the old +gentleman is come in?” said Touchwood—“Come, +sir, I am more your friend than you may think.”</p> + +<p>“Sir, you are intrusive—I want nothing that +you can give me,” said Mowbray.</p> + +<p>“That is a mistake,” answered the senior; “for +I can supply you with what most young men want—money +and wisdom.”</p> + +<p>“You will do well to keep both till they are +wanted,” said Mowbray.</p> + +<p>“Why, so I would, squire, only that I have taken +something of a fancy for your family; and they are +supposed to have wanted cash and good counsel for +two generations, if not for three.”</p> + +<p>“Sir,” said Mowbray, angrily, “you are too old +either to play the buffoon, or to get buffoon's +payment.”</p> + +<p>“Which is like monkey's allowance, I suppose,” +said the traveller, “more kicks than halfpence.—Well—at +least I am not young enough to quarrel<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_245" id="vol_ii_Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span> +with boys for bullying. I'll convince you, however, +Mr. Mowbray, that I know some more of your affairs +than what you give me credit for.”</p> + +<p>“It may be,” answered Mowbray, “but you will +oblige me more by minding your own.”</p> + +<p>“Very like; meantime, your losses to-night to +my Lord Etherington are no trifle, and no secret +neither.”</p> + +<p>“Mr. Touchwood, I desire to know where you +had your information?” said Mowbray.</p> + +<p>“A matter of very little consequence compared +to its truth or falsehood, Mr. Mowbray,” answered +the old gentleman.</p> + +<p>“But of the last importance to me, sir,” said +Mowbray. “In a word, had you such information +by or through means of Lord Etherington?—Answer +me this single question, and then I shall +know better what to think on the subject.”</p> + +<p>“Upon my honour,” said Touchwood, “I neither +had my information from Lord Etherington directly +nor indirectly. I say thus much to give you satisfaction, +and I now expect you will hear me with +patience.”</p> + +<p>“Forgive me, sir,” interrupted Mowbray, “one +farther question. I understand something was said +in disparagement of my sister just as I entered the +tea-room?”</p> + +<p>“Hem—hem—hem!” said Touchwood, hesitating. +“I am sorry your ears have served you so +well—something there <i>was</i> said lightly, something +that can be easily explained, I dare say;—And now, +Mr. Mowbray, let me speak a few serious words +with you.”</p> + +<p>“And now, Mr. Touchwood, we have no more to +say to each other—good evening to you.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_246" id="vol_ii_Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span></p> + +<p>He brushed past the old man, who in vain +endeavoured to stop him, and, hurrying to the +stable, demanded his horse. It was ready saddled, +and waited his orders; but even the short time that +was necessary to bring it to the door of the stable +was exasperating to Mowbray's impatience. Not +less exasperating was the constant interceding voice +of Touchwood, who, in tones alternately plaintive +and snappish, kept on a string of expostulations.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Mowbray, only five words with you—Mr. +Mowbray, you will repent this—Is this a night to +ride in, Mr. Mowbray?—My stars, sir, if you +would but have five minutes' patience!”</p> + +<p>Curses, not loud but deep, muttered in the throat +of the impatient laird, were the only reply, until +his horse was brought out, when, staying no farther +question, he sprung into the saddle. The poor horse +paid for the delay, which could not be laid to his +charge. Mowbray struck him hard with his spurs +so soon as he was in his seat—the noble animal +reared, bolted, and sprung forward like a deer, over +stock and stone, the nearest road—and we are +aware it was a rough one—to Shaws-Castle. There +is a sort of instinct by which horses perceive the +humour of their riders, and are furious and impetuous, +or dull and sluggish, as if to correspond with +it; and Mowbray's gallant steed seemed on this +occasion to feel all the stings of his master's internal +ferment, although not again urged with the spur. +The ostler stood listening to the clash of the hoofs, +succeeding each other in thick and close gallop, +until they died away in the distant woodland.</p> + +<p>“If St. Ronan's reach home this night, with his +neck unbroken,” muttered the fellow, “the devil +must have it in keeping.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_247" id="vol_ii_Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Mercy on us!” said the traveller, “he rides +like a Bedouin Arab! but in the desert there are +neither trees to cross the road, nor cleughs, nor linns, +nor floods, nor fords. Well, I must set to work +myself, or this gear will get worse than even I can +mend.—Here you, ostler, let me have your best +pair of horses instantly to Shaws-Castle.”</p> + +<p>“To Shaws-Castle, sir?” said the man, with some +surprise.</p> + +<p>“Yes—do you not know such a place?”</p> + +<p>“In troth, sir, sae few company go there, except +on the great ball day, that we have had time to forget +the road to it—but St. Ronan's was here even +now, sir.”</p> + +<p>“Ay, what of that?—he has ridden on to get +supper ready—so, turn out without loss of time.”</p> + +<p>“At your pleasure, sir,” said the fellow, and +called to the postilion accordingly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_248" id="vol_ii_Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol_ii_CHAPTER_XVI" id="vol_ii_CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI.</h2> + +<h3>DEBATE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0"><i>Sedet post equitem atra cura</i>——<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Still though the headlong cavalier,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">O'er rough and smooth, in wild career,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Seems racing with the wind;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">His sad companion,—ghastly pale,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And darksome as a widow's veil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0"><span class="smcap">Care</span>—keeps her seat behind.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="citation"> +<span class="smcap">Horace</span>.<br /> +</p> + + +<p>Well was it that night for Mowbray, that he +had always piqued himself on his horses, and that +the animal on which he was then mounted was as +sure-footed and sagacious as he was mettled and +fiery. For those who observed next day the print +of the hoofs on the broken and rugged track through +which the creature had been driven at full speed by +his furious master, might easily see, that in more +than a dozen of places the horse and rider had been +within a few inches of destruction. One bough +of a gnarled and stunted oak-tree, which stretched +across the road, seemed in particular to have opposed +an almost fatal barrier to the horseman's career. In +striking his head against this impediment, the force +of the blow had been broken in some measure by a +high-crowned hat, yet the violence of the shock +was sufficient to shiver the branch to pieces. Fortunately, +it was already decayed; but, even in that +state, it was subject of astonishment to every one<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_249" id="vol_ii_Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span> +that no fatal damage had been sustained in so +formidable an encounter. Mowbray himself was +unconscious of the accident.</p> + +<p>Scarcely aware that he had been riding at an +unusual rate, scarce sensible that he had ridden +faster perhaps than ever he followed the hounds, +Mowbray alighted at his stable door, and flung the +bridle to his groom, who held up his hands in astonishment +when he beheld the condition of the favourite +horse; but, concluding that his master must be +intoxicated, he prudently forbore to make any +observations.</p> + +<p>No sooner did the unfortunate traveller suspend +that rapid motion by which he seemed to wish to +annihilate, as far as possible, time and space, in +order to reach the place he had now attained, than it +seemed to him as if he would have given the world +that seas and deserts had lain between him and +the house of his fathers, as well as that only sister +with whom he was now about to have a decisive +interview.</p> + +<p>“But the place and the hour are arrived,” he +said, biting his lip with anguish; “this explanation +must be decisive; and whatever evils may +attend it, suspense must be ended now, at once and +for ever.”</p> + +<p>He entered the Castle, and took the light from +the old domestic, who, hearing the clatter of his +horse's feet, had opened the door to receive him.</p> + +<p>“Is my sister in her parlour?” he asked, but in +so hollow a voice, that the old man only answered +the question by another, “Was his honour well?”</p> + +<p>“Quite well, Patrick—never better in my life,” +said Mowbray; and turning his back on the old +man, as if to prevent his observing whether his<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_250" id="vol_ii_Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span> +countenance and his words corresponded, he pursued +his way to his sister's apartment. The sound +of his step upon the passage roused Clara from a +reverie, perhaps a sad one; and she had trimmed +her lamp, and stirred her fire, so slow did he walk, +before he at length entered her apartment.</p> + +<p>“You are a good boy, brother,” she said, “to +come thus early home; and I have some good news +for your reward. The groom has fetched back +Trimmer—He was lying by the dead hare, and he +had chased him as far as Drumlyford—the shepherd +had carried him to the shieling, till some one +should claim him.”</p> + +<p>“I would he had hanged him, with all my heart!” +said Mowbray.</p> + +<p>“How!—hang Trimmer?—your favourite Trimmer, +that has beat the whole country?—and it was +only this morning you were half-crying because he +was amissing, and like to murder man and mother's +son?”</p> + +<p>“The better I like any living thing,” answered +Mowbray, “the more reason I have for wishing it +dead and at rest; for neither I, nor any thing that +I love, will ever be happy more.”</p> + +<p>“You cannot frighten me, John, with these +flights,” answered Clara, trembling, although she +endeavoured to look unconcerned—“You have used +me to them too often.”</p> + +<p>“It is well for you then; you will be ruined without +the shock of surprise.”</p> + +<p>“So much the better—We have been,” said Clara,</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">“‘So constantly in poortith's sight,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">The thoughts on't gie us little fright.’<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>So say I with honest Robert Burns.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_251" id="vol_ii_Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span></p> + +<p>“D—n Barns and his trash!” said Mowbray, +with the impatience of a man determined to be angry +with every thing but himself, who was the real +source of the evil.</p> + +<p>“And why damn poor Burns?” said Clara, composedly; +“it is not his fault if you have not risen a +winner, for that, I suppose, is the cause of all this +uproar.”</p> + +<p>“Would it not make any one lose patience,” said +Mowbray, “to hear her quoting the rhapsodies of +a hobnail'd peasant, when a man is speaking of the +downfall of an ancient house! Your ploughman, I +suppose, becoming one degree poorer than he was +born to be, would only go without his dinner, or +without his usual potation of ale. His comrades +would cry ‘poor fellow!’ and let him eat out of their +kit, and drink out of their bicker without scruple, +till his own was full again. But the poor gentleman—the +downfallen man of rank—the degraded +man of birth—the disabled and disarmed man of +power!—it is he that is to be pitied, who loses not +merely drink and dinner, but honour, situation, +credit, character, and name itself!”</p> + +<p>“You are declaiming in this manner in order +to terrify me,” said Clara: “but, friend John, I +know you and your ways, and I have made up my +mind upon all contingencies that can take place. +I will tell you more—I have stood on this tottering +pinnacle of rank and fashion, if our situation +can be termed such, till my head is dizzy with the +instability of my eminence; and I feel that strange +desire of tossing myself down, which the devil is +said to put into folk's heads when they stand on +the top of steeples—at least, I had rather the +plunge were over.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_252" id="vol_ii_Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Be satisfied, then; if that will satisfy you—the +plunge <i>is</i> over, and we are—what they used to call +it in Scotland—gentle beggars—creatures to whom +our second, and third, and fourth, and fifth cousins +may, if they please, give a place at the side-table, +and a seat in the carriage with the lady's maid, if +driving backwards will not make us sick.”</p> + +<p>“They may give it to those who will take it,” +said Clara; “but I am determined to eat bread of +my own buying—I can do twenty things, and I am +sure some one or other of them will bring me all +the little money I will need. I have been trying, +John, for several months, how little I can live upon, +and you would laugh if you heard how low I have +brought the account.”</p> + +<p>“There is a difference, Clara, between fanciful +experiments and real poverty—the one is a masquerade, +which we can end when we please, the +other is wretchedness for life.”</p> + +<p>“Methinks, brother,” replied Miss Mowbray, +“it would be better for you to set me an example +how to carry my good resolutions into effect, than to +ridicule them.”</p> + +<p>“Why, what would you have me do?” said he, +fiercely—“turn postilion, or rough-rider, or whipper-in?—I +don't know any thing else that my +education, as I have used it, has fitted me for—and +then some of my old acquaintances would, I +dare say, give me a crown to drink now and then +for old acquaintance' sake.”</p> + +<p>“This is not the way, John, that men of sense +think or speak of serious misfortunes,” answered his +sister; “and I do not believe that this is so serious +as it is your pleasure to make it.”</p> + +<p>“Believe the very worst you can think,” replied<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_253" id="vol_ii_Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span> +he, “and you will not believe bad enough!—You +have neither a guinea, nor a house, nor a friend;—pass +but a day, and it is a chance that you will not +have a brother.”</p> + +<p>“My dear John, you have drunk hard—rode +hard.”</p> + +<p>“Yes—such tidings deserved to be carried express, +especially to a young lady who receives them so +well,” answered Mowbray, bitterly. “I suppose, +now, it will make no impression, if I were to tell +you that you have it in your power to stop all this +ruin?”</p> + +<p>“By consummating my own, I suppose?—Brother, +I said you could not make me tremble, but you +have found a way to do it.”</p> + +<p>“What, you expect I am again to urge you with +Lord Etherington's courtship?—That <i>might</i> have +saved all, indeed—But that day of grace is over.”</p> + +<p>“I am glad of it, with all my spirit,” said Clara; +“may it take with it all that we can quarrel about!—But +till this instant I thought it was for this +very point that this long voyage was bound, and +that you were endeavouring to persuade me of the +reality of the danger of the storm, in order to reconcile +me to the harbour.”</p> + +<p>“You are mad, I think, in earnest,” said Mowbray; +“can you really be so absurd as to rejoice +that you have no way left to relieve yourself and me +from ruin, want, and shame?”</p> + +<p>“From shame, brother?” said Clara. “No shame +in honest poverty, I hope.”</p> + +<p>“That is according as folks have used their prosperity, +Clara.—I must speak to the point.—There +are strange reports going below—By Heaven! they +are enough to disturb the ashes of the dead! Were<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_254" id="vol_ii_Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span> +I to mention them, I should expect our poor mother +to enter the room—Clara Mowbray, can you guess +what I mean?”</p> + +<p>It was with the utmost exertion, yet in a faltering +voice, that she was able, after an ineffectual +effort, to utter the monosyllable, “<i>No!</i>”</p> + +<p>“By Heaven! I am ashamed—I am even <i>afraid</i> +to express my own meaning!—Clara, what is there +which makes you so obstinately reject every proposal +of marriage?—Is it that you feel yourself +unworthy to be the wife of an honest man?—Speak +out!—Evil Fame has been busy with your reputation—speak +out!—Give me the right to cram their +lies down the throats of the inventors, and when I +go among them to-morrow, I shall know how to +treat those who cast reflections on you! The fortunes +of our house are ruined, but no tongue shall +slander its honour.—Speak—speak, wretched girl! +why are you silent?”</p> + +<p>“Stay at home, brother!” said Clara; “stay at +home, if you regard our house's honour—murder +cannot mend misery—Stay at home, and let them +talk of me as they will,—they can scarcely say +worse of me than I deserve!”<a name="vol_ii_FNanchor_F_18" id="vol_ii_FNanchor_F_18"></a><a href="#vol_ii_Footnote_F_18" class="fnanchor">[F]</a></p> + +<p>The passions of Mowbray, at all times ungovernably +strong, were at present inflamed by wine, by his +rapid journey, and the previously disturbed state of +his mind. He set his teeth, clenched his hands, +looked on the ground, as one that forms some horrid +resolution, and muttered almost unintelligibly, “It +were charity to kill her!”</p> + +<p>“Oh! no—no—no!” exclaimed the terrified +girl, throwing herself at his feet; “Do not kill me, +brother! I have wished for death—thought of +death—prayed for death—but, oh! it is frightful<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_255" id="vol_ii_Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span> +to think that he is near—Oh! not a bloody death, +brother, nor by your hand!”</p> + +<p>She held him close by the knees as she spoke, and +expressed, in her looks and accents, the utmost +terror. It was not, indeed, without reason; for the +extreme solitude of the place, the violent and +inflamed passions of her brother, and the desperate +circumstances to which he had reduced himself, +seemed all to concur to render some horrid act of +violence not an improbable termination of this +strange interview.</p> + +<p>Mowbray folded his arms, without unclenching his +hands, or raising his head, while his sister continued +on the floor, clasping him round the knees with all +her strength, and begging piteously for her life and +for mercy.</p> + +<p>“Fool!” he said, at last, “let me go!—Who +cares for thy worthless life?—who cares if thou +live or die? Live, if thou canst—and be the hate +and scorn of every one else, as much as thou art +mine!”</p> + +<p>He grasped her by the shoulder, with one hand +pushed her from him, and, as she arose from the +floor, and again pressed to throw her arms around +his neck, he repulsed her with his arm and hand, +with a push—or blow—it might be termed either +one or the other,—violent enough, in her weak +state, to have again extended her on the ground, +had not a chair received her as she fell. He looked +at her with ferocity, grappled a moment in his +pocket; then ran to the window, and throwing the +sash violently up, thrust himself as far as he could +without falling, into the open air. Terrified, and +yet her feelings of his unkindness predominating +even above her fears, Clara continued to exclaim.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_256" id="vol_ii_Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Oh, brother, say you did not mean this!—Oh, +say you did not mean to strike me!—Oh, whatever +I have deserved, be not you the executioner!—It +is not manly—it is not natural—there are but two +of us in the world!”</p> + +<p>He returned no answer; and, observing that he +continued to stretch himself from the window, +which was in the second story of the building, and +overlooked the court, a new cause of apprehension +mingled, in some measure, with her personal fears. +Timidly, and with streaming eyes and uplifted +hands, she approached her angry brother, and, fearfully, +yet firmly, seized the skirt of his coat, as if +anxious to preserve him from the effects of that +despair, which so lately seemed turned against her, +and now against himself.</p> + +<p>He felt the pressure of her hold, and drawing +himself angrily back, asked her sternly what she +wanted.</p> + +<p>“Nothing,” she said, quitting her hold of his +coat; “but what—what did he look after so +anxiously?”</p> + +<p>“After the devil!” he answered, fiercely; then +drawing in his head, and taking her hand, “By +my soul, Clara—it is true, if ever there was truth +in such a tale!—He stood by me just now, and +urged me to murder thee!—What else could have +put my hunting-knife into my thought?—Ay, by +God, and into my very hand—at such a moment?—Yonder +I could almost fancy I see him fly, the +wood, and the rock, and the water, gleaming back +the dark-red furnace-light, that is shed on them +by his dragon wings! By my soul, I can hardly +suppose it fancy—I can hardly think but that I +was under the influence of an evil spirit—under<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_257" id="vol_ii_Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span> +an act of fiendish possession! But gone as he is, +gone let him be—and thou, too ready implement +of evil, be thou gone after him!” He drew from +his pocket his right hand, which had all this time +held his hunting-knife, and threw the implement +into the court-yard as he spoke, then, with a +sad quietness, and solemnity of manner, shut the +window, and led his sister by the hand to her usual +seat, which her tottering steps scarce enabled +her to reach. “Clara,” he said, after a pause of +mournful silence, “we must think what is to be +done, without passion or violence—there may be +something for us in the dice yet, if we do not throw +away our game. A blot is never a blot till it is hit—dishonour +concealed, is not dishonour in some +respects.—Dost thou attend to me, wretched girl?” +he said, suddenly and sternly raising his voice.</p> + +<p>“Yes, brother—yes, indeed, brother!” she hastily +replied, terrified even by delay again to awaken his +ferocious and ungovernable temper.</p> + +<p>“Thus it must be, then,” he said. “You must +marry this Etherington—there is no help for it, +Clara—You cannot complain of what your own +vice and folly have rendered inevitable.”</p> + +<p>“But, brother!”—said the trembling girl.</p> + +<p>“Be silent. I know all that you would say. +You love him not, you would say. I love him not, +no more than you. Nay, what is more, he loves +you not; if he did, I might scruple to give you to +him, you being such as you have owned yourself. +But you shall wed him out of hate, Clara—or for +the interest of your family—or for what reason +you will—But wed him you shall and must.”</p> + +<p>“Brother—dearest brother—one single word!”</p> + +<p>“Not of refusal or expostulation—that time is<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_258" id="vol_ii_Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span> +gone by,” said her stern censurer. “When I +believed thee what I thought thee this morning, I +might advise you, but I could not compel. But, +since the honour of our family has been disgraced +by your means, it is but just, that, if possible, its +disgrace should be hidden; and it shall,—ay, if +selling you for a slave would tend to conceal it!”</p> + +<p>“You do worse—you do worse by me! A slave +in an open market may be bought by a kind master—you +do not give me that chance—you wed me +to one who”——</p> + +<p>“Fear him not, nor the worst that he can do, +Clara,” said her brother. “I know on what terms +he marries; and being once more your brother, as +your obedience in this matter will make me, he had +better tear his flesh from his bones with his own +teeth, than do thee any displeasure! By Heaven, +I hate him so much—for he has outreached me +every way—that methinks it is some consolation +that he will not receive in thee the excellent creature +I thought thee!—Fallen as thou art, thou art still +too good for him.”</p> + +<p>Encouraged by the more gentle and almost affectionate +tone in which her brother spoke, Clara could +not help saying, although almost in a whisper, “I +trust it will not be so—I trust he will consider his +own condition, honour, and happiness, better than +to share it with me.”</p> + +<p>“Let him utter such a scruple if he dares,” said +Mowbray—“But he dares not hesitate—he knows +that the instant he recedes from addressing you, he +signs his own death-warrant or mine, or perhaps +that of both; and his views, too, are of a kind that +will not be relinquished on a point of scrupulous +delicacy merely. Therefore, Clara, nourish no such<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_259" id="vol_ii_Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span> +thought in your heart as that there is the least +possibility of your escaping this marriage! The +match is booked—Swear you will not hesitate.”</p> + +<p>“I will not,” she said, almost breathlessly, terrified +lest he was about to start once more into the +fit of unbridled fury which had before seized on +him.</p> + +<p>“Do not even whisper or hint an objection, but +submit to your fate, for it is inevitable.”</p> + +<p>“I will—submit”—answered Clara, in the same +trembling accent.</p> + +<p>“And I,” he said, “will spare you—at least at +present—and it may be for ever—all enquiry into +the guilt which you have confessed. Rumours there +were of misconduct, which reached my ears even in +England; but who could have believed them that +looked on you daily, and witnessed your late course +of life?—On this subject I will be at present silent—perhaps +may not again touch on it—that is, if +you do nothing to thwart my pleasure, or to avoid +the fate which circumstances render unavoidable.—And +now it is late—retire, Clara, to your bed—think +on what I have said as what necessity has +determined, and not my selfish pleasure.”</p> + +<p>He held out his hand, and she placed, but not +without reluctant terror, her trembling palm in his. +In this manner, and with a sort of mournful solemnity, +as if they had been in attendance upon a +funeral, he handed his sister through a gallery hung +with old family pictures, at the end of which was +Clara's bedchamber. The moon, which at this +moment looked out through a huge volume of mustering +clouds that had long been boding storm, fell +on the two last descendants of that ancient family, +as they glided hand in hand, more like the ghosts of<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_260" id="vol_ii_Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span> +the deceased than like living persons, through the +hall and amongst the portraits of their forefathers. +The same thoughts were in the breast of both, but +neither attempted to say, while they cast a flitting +glance on the pallid and decayed representations, +“How little did these anticipate this catastrophe +of their house!” At the door of the bedroom Mowbray +quitted his sister's hand, and said, “Clara, you +should to-night thank God, that saved you from a +great danger, and me from a deadly sin.”</p> + +<p>“I will,” she answered—“I will.” And, as if +her terror had been anew excited by this allusion +to what had passed, she bid her brother hastily +good-night, and was no sooner within her apartment, +than he heard her turn the key in the lock, +and draw two bolts besides.</p> + +<p>“I understand you, Clara,” muttered Mowbray +between his teeth, as he heard one bar drawn after +another. “But if you could earth yourself under +Ben Nevis, you could not escape what fate has +destined for you.—Yes!” he said to himself, as he +walked with slow and moody pace through the +moonlight gallery, uncertain whether to return to +the parlour, or to retire to his solitary chamber, +when his attention was roused by a noise in the +court-yard.</p> + +<p>The night was not indeed very far advanced, but +it had been so long since Shaws-Castle received a +guest, that had Mowbray not heard the rolling of +wheels in the court-yard, he might have thought +rather of housebreakers than of visitors. But, as +the sound of a carriage and horses was distinctly +heard, it instantly occurred to him, that the guest +must be Lord Etherington, come, even at this late +hour, to speak with him on the reports which were<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_261" id="vol_ii_Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span> +current to his sister's prejudice, and perhaps to +declare his addresses to her were at an end. Eager +to know the worst, and to bring matters to a decision, +he re-entered the apartment he had just left, +where the lights were still burning, and, calling +loudly to Patrick, whom he heard in communing +with the postilion, commanded him to show the +visitor to Miss Mowbray's parlour. It was not the +light step of the young nobleman which came +tramping, or rather stamping, through the long passage, +and up the two or three steps at the end of it. +Neither was it Lord Etherington's graceful figure +which was seen when the door opened, but the stout +square substance of Mr. Peregrine Touchwood.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_262" id="vol_ii_Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol_ii_CHAPTER_XVII" id="vol_ii_CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII.</h2> + +<h3>A RELATIVE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Claim'd kindred there, and had his claims allow'd.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="citation"> +<i>Deserted Village.</i><br /> +</p> + + +<p>Starting at the unexpected and undesired apparition +which presented itself, in the manner described +at the end of the last chapter, Mowbray yet +felt, at the same time, a kind of relief, that his +meeting with Lord Etherington, painfully decisive +as that meeting must be, was for a time suspended. +So it was with a mixture of peevishness and internal +satisfaction, that he demanded what had procured +him the honour of a visit from Mr. Touchwood at +this late hour.</p> + +<p>“Necessity, that makes the old wife trot,” replied +Touchwood; “no choice of mine, I assure you—Gad, +Mr. Mowbray, I would rather have crossed +Saint Gothard, than run the risk I have done +to-night, rumbling through your breakneck roads +in that d——d old wheelbarrow.—On my word, +I believe I must be troublesome to your butler +for a draught of something—I am as thirsty +as a coal-heaver that is working by the piece. +You have porter, I suppose, or good old Scotch +two-penny?”</p> + +<p>With a secret execration on his visitor's effrontery, +Mr. Mowbray ordered the servant to put down<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_263" id="vol_ii_Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span> +wine and water, of which Touchwood mixed a gobletful, +and drank it off.</p> + +<p>“We are a small family,” said his entertainer; +“and I am seldom at home—still more seldom +receive guests, when I chance to be here—I am +sorry I have no malt liquor, if you prefer it.”</p> + +<p>“Prefer it?” said Touchwood, compounding, +however, another glass of sherry and water, and +adding a large piece of sugar, to correct the hoarseness +which, he observed, his night journey might +bring on,—“to be sure I prefer it, and so does +every body, except Frenchmen and dandies.—No +offence, Mr. Mowbray, but you should order a hogshead +from Meux—the brown-stout, wired down +for exportation to the colonies, keeps for any length +of time, and in every climate—I have drank it +where it must have cost a guinea a quart, if interest +had been counted.”</p> + +<p>“When I <i>expect</i> the honour of a visit from you, +Mr. Touchwood, I will endeavour to be better +provided,” answered Mowbray; “at present your +arrival has been without notice, and I would be glad +to know if it has any particular object.”</p> + +<p>“This is what I call coming to the point,” said +Mr. Touchwood, thrusting out his stout legs, +accoutred as they were with the ancient defences, +called boot-hose, so as to rest his heels upon the +fender. “Upon my life, the fire turns the best +flower in the garden at this season of the year—I'll +take the freedom to throw on a log.—Is it not +a strange thing, by the by, that one never sees a +fagot in Scotland? You have much small wood, +Mr. Mowbray, I wonder you do not get some fellow +from the midland counties, to teach your people +how to make a fagot.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_264" id="vol_ii_Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Did you come all the way to Shaws-Castle,” +asked Mowbray, rather testily, “to instruct me in +the mystery of fagot-making?”</p> + +<p>“Not exactly—not exactly,” answered the +undaunted Touchwood; “but there is a right and a +wrong way in every thing—a word by the way, on +any useful subject, can never fall amiss.—As for +my immediate and more pressing business, I can +assure you, that it is of a nature sufficiently urgent, +since it brings me to a house in which I am much +surprised to find myself.”</p> + +<p>“The surprise is mutual, sir,” said Mowbray, +gravely, observing that his guest made a pause; “it +is full time you should explain it.”</p> + +<p>“Well, then,” replied Touchwood; “I must first +ask you whether you have never heard of a certain +old gentleman, called Scrogie, who took it into +what he called his head, poor man, to be ashamed +of the name he bore, though owned by many honest +and respectable men, and chose to join it to your +surname of Mowbray, as having a more chivalrous +Norman sounding, and, in a word, a gentlemanlike +twang with it?”</p> + +<p>“I have heard of such a person, though only +lately,” said Mowbray. “Reginald Scrogie Mowbray +was his name. I have reason to consider his +alliance with my family as undoubted, though you +seem to mention it with a sneer, sir. I believe Mr. +S. Mowbray regulated his family settlements very +much upon the idea that his heir was to intermarry +with our house.”</p> + +<p>“True, true, Mr. Mowbray,” answered Touchwood; +“and certainly it is not your business to lay +the axe to the root of the genealogical tree, that is +like to bear golden apples for you—Ha!”<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_265" id="vol_ii_Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Well, well, sir—proceed—proceed,” answered +Mowbray.</p> + +<p>“You may also have heard that this old gentleman +had a son, who would willingly have cut up the +said family-tree into fagots; who thought Scrogie +sounded as well as Mowbray, and had no fancy for +an imaginary gentility, which was to be attained by +the change of one's natural name, and the disowning, +as it were, of one's actual relations.”</p> + +<p>“I think I have heard from Lord Etherington,” +answered Mowbray, “to whose communications I +owe most of my knowledge about these Scrogie +people, that old Mr. Scrogie Mowbray was unfortunate +in a son, who thwarted his father on every +occasion,—would embrace no opportunity which +fortunate chances held out, of raising and distinguishing +the family,—had imbibed low tastes, +wandering habits, and singular objects of pursuit,—on +account of which his father disinherited him.”</p> + +<p>“It is very true, Mr. Mowbray,” proceeded +Touchwood, “that this person did happen to fall +under his father's displeasure, because he scorned +forms and flummery,—loved better to make money +as an honest merchant, than to throw it away as an +idle gentleman,—never called a coach when walking +on foot would serve the turn,—and liked the +Royal Exchange better than St. James's Park. In +short, his father disinherited him, because he had +the qualities for doubling the estate, rather than +those for squandering it.”</p> + +<p>“All this may be quite correct, Mr. Touchwood,” +replied Mowbray; “but pray, what has this Mr. +Scrogie, junior, to do with you or me?”</p> + +<p>“Do with you or me!” said Touchwood, as if +surprised at the question; “he has a great deal<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_266" id="vol_ii_Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span> +to do with me at least, since I am the very man +myself.”</p> + +<p>“The devil you are!” said Mowbray, opening +wide his eyes in turn; “Why, Mr. A—a—your +name is Touchwood—P. Touchwood—Paul, I +suppose, or Peter—I read it so in the subscription +book at the Well.”</p> + +<p>“Peregrine, sir, Peregrine—my mother would +have me so christened, because Peregrine Pickle +came out during her confinement; and my poor +foolish father acquiesced, because he thought it +genteel, and derived from the Willoughbies. I +don't like it, and I always write P. short, and you +might have remarked an S. also before the surname—I +use at present P. S. Touchwood. I had an old +acquaintance in the city, who loved his jest—He +always called me Postscript Touchwood.”</p> + +<p>“Then, sir,” said Mowbray, “if you are really +Mr. Scrogie, <i>tout court</i>, I must suppose the name +of Touchwood is assumed?”</p> + +<p>“What the devil!” replied Mr. P. S. Touchwood, +“do you suppose there is no name in the English +nation will couple up legitimately with my paternal +name of Scrogie, except your own, Mr. Mowbray?—I +assure you I got the name of Touchwood, and a +pretty spell of money along with it, from an old +godfather, who admired my spirit in sticking by +commerce.”</p> + +<p>“Well, sir, every one has his taste—Many would +have thought it better to enjoy a hereditary estate, +by keeping your father's name of Mowbray, than +to have gained another by assuming a stranger's +name of Touchwood.”</p> + +<p>“Who told you Mr. Touchwood was a stranger +to me?” said the traveller; “for aught I know, he<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_267" id="vol_ii_Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span> +had a better title to the duties of a son from me, +than the poor old man who made such a fool of +himself, by trying to turn gentleman in his old +age. He was my grandfather's partner in the great +firm of Touchwood, Scrogie, and Co.—Let me tell +you, there is as good inheritance in house as in field—a +man's partners are his fathers and brothers, and +a head clerk may be likened to a kind of first cousin.”</p> + +<p>“I meant no offence whatever, Mr. Touchwood +Scrogie.”</p> + +<p>“Scrogie Touchwood, if you please,” said the +senior; “the scrog branch first, for it must become +rotten ere it become touchwood—ha, ha, ha!—you +take me.”</p> + +<p>“A singular old fellow this,” said Mowbray to +himself, “and speaks in all the dignity of dollars; +but I will be civil to him, till I can see what he is +driving at.—You are facetious, Mr. Touchwood,” +he proceeded aloud. “I was only going to say, +that although you set no value upon your connexion +with my family, yet I cannot forget that +such a circumstance exists; and therefore I bid +you heartily welcome to Shaws-Castle.”</p> + +<p>“Thank ye, thank ye, Mr. Mowbray—I knew +you would see the thing right. To tell you the +truth, I should not have cared much to come a-begging +for your acquaintance and cousinship, and so +forth; but that I thought you would be more tractable +in your adversity, than was your father in his +prosperity.”</p> + +<p>“Did you know my father, sir?” said Mowbray.</p> + +<p>“Ay, ay—I came once down here, and was introduced +to him—saw your sister and you when you +were children—had thoughts of making my will +then, and should have clapped you both in before<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_268" id="vol_ii_Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span> +I set out to double Cape Horn. But, gad, I wish +my poor father had seen the reception I got! I +did not let the old gentleman, Mr. Mowbray of St. +Ronan's that was then, smoke my money-bags—that +might have made him more tractable—not but +that we went on indifferent well for a day or two, +till I got a hint that my room was wanted, for that +the Duke of Devil-knows-what was expected, and +my bed was to serve his valet-de-chambre.—‘Oh, +damn all gentle cousins!’ said I, and off I set on the +pad round the world again, and thought no more of +the Mowbrays till a year or so ago.”</p> + +<p>“And, pray, what recalled us to your recollection?”</p> + +<p>“Why,” said Touchwood, “I was settled for some +time at Smyrna, (for I turn the penny go where I +will—I have done a little business even since I +came here;)—but being at Smyrna as I said, +I became acquainted with Francis Tyrrel.”</p> + +<p>“The natural brother of Lord Etherington,” said +Mowbray.</p> + +<p>“Ay, so called,” answered Touchwood; “but +by and by he is more likely to prove the Earl +of Etherington himself, and t'other fine fellow +the bastard.”</p> + +<p>“The devil he is!—You surprise me, Mr. +Touchwood.”</p> + +<p>“I thought I should—I thought I should—Faith, +I am sometimes surprised myself at the turn +things take in this world. But the thing is not the +less certain—the proofs are lying in the strong +chest of our house at London, deposited there by +the old Earl, who repented of his roguery to Miss +Martigny long before he died, but had not courage +enough to do his legitimate son justice till the +sexton had housed him.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_269" id="vol_ii_Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Good Heaven, sir!” said Mowbray; “and did +you know all this while, that I was about to bestow +the only sister of my house upon an impostor?”</p> + +<p>“What was my business with that, Mr. Mowbray?” +replied Touchwood; “you would have been very +angry had any one suspected you of not being +sharp enough to look out for yourself and your +sister both. Besides, Lord Etherington, bad enough +as he may be in other respects, was, till very lately, +no impostor, or an innocent one, for he only occupied +the situation in which his father had placed +him. And, indeed, when I understood, upon coming +to England, that he was gone down here, and, as I +conjectured, to pay his addresses to your sister, to +say truth, I did not see he could do better. Here +was a poor fellow that was about to cease to be a +lord and a wealthy man; was it not very reasonable +that he should make the most of his dignity while +he had it? and if, by marrying a pretty girl while +in possession of his title, he could get possession of +the good estate of Nettlewood, why, I could see +nothing in it but a very pretty way of breaking +his fall.”</p> + +<p>“Very pretty for him, indeed, and very convenient +too,” said Mowbray; “but pray, sir, what was to +become of the honour of my family?”</p> + +<p>“Why, what was the honour of your family to me?” +said Touchwood; “unless it was to recommend your +family to my care, that I was disinherited on account +of it. And if this Etherington, or Bulmer, had been +a good fellow, I would have seen all the Mowbrays +that ever wore broad cloth at Jericho, before I had +interfered.”</p> + +<p>“I am really much indebted to your kindness,” +said Mowbray angrily.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_270" id="vol_ii_Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span></p> + +<p>“More than you are aware of,” answered Touchwood; +“for, though I thought this Bulmer, even +when declared illegitimate, might be a reasonable +good match for your sister, considering the estate +which was to accompany the union of their hands; +yet, now I have discovered him to be a scoundrel—every +way a scoundrel—I would not wish any +decent girl to marry him, were they to get all +Yorkshire, instead of Nettlewood. So I have come +to put you right.”</p> + +<p>The strangeness of the news which Touchwood +so bluntly communicated, made Mowbray's head +turn round like that of a man who grows dizzy at +finding himself on the verge of a precipice. Touchwood +observed his consternation, which he willingly +construed into an acknowledgment of his own brilliant +genius.</p> + +<p>“Take a glass of wine, Mr. Mowbray,” he said, +complacently; “take a glass of old sherry—nothing +like it for clearing the ideas—and do not be +afraid of me, though I come thus suddenly upon +you with such surprising tidings—you will find me +a plain, simple, ordinary man, that have my faults +and my blunders like other people. I acknowledge +that much travel and experience have made me +sometimes play the busybody, because I find I can +do things better than other people, and I love to +see folk stare—it's a way I have got. But, after +all, I am <i>un bon diable</i>, as the Frenchman says; +and here I have come four or five hundred miles to +lie quiet among you all, and put all your little matters +to rights, just when you think they are most +desperate.”</p> + +<p>“I thank you for your good intentions,” said +Mowbray; “but I must needs say, that they would<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_271" id="vol_ii_Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span> +have been more effectual had you been less cunning +in my behalf, and frankly told me what you knew +of Lord Etherington; as it is, the matter has gone +fearfully far. I have promised him my sister—I +have laid myself under personal obligations to him—and +there are other reasons why I fear I must +keep my word to this man, earl or no earl.”</p> + +<p>“What!” exclaimed Touchwood, “would you +give up your sister to a worthless rascal, who is +capable of robbing the post-office, and of murdering +his brother, because you have lost a trifle of +money to him? Are you to let him go off triumphantly, +because he is a gamester as well as a +cheat?—You are a pretty fellow, Mr. Mowbray +of St. Ronan's—you are one of the happy sheep +that go out for wool, and come home shorn. Egad, +you think yourself a millstone, and turn out a sack +of grain—You flew abroad a hawk, and have come +home a pigeon—You snarled at the Philistines, and +they have drawn your eye-teeth with a vengeance!”</p> + +<p>“This is all very witty, Mr. Touchwood,” replied +Mowbray; “but wit will not pay this man Etherington, +or whatever he is, so many hundreds as I +have lost to him.”</p> + +<p>“Why, then, wealth must do what wit cannot,” +said old Touchwood; “I must advance for you, +that is all. Look ye, sir, I do not go afoot for +nothing—if I have laboured, I have reaped—and, +like the fellow in the old play, ‘I have enough, and +can maintain my humour’—it is not a few hundreds, +or thousands either, can stand betwixt old +P. S. Touchwood and his purpose; and my present +purpose is to make you, Mr. Mowbray of St. +Ronan's, a free man of the forest.—You still look +grave on it, young man?—Why, I trust you are<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_272" id="vol_ii_Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span> +not such an ass as to think your dignity offended, +because the plebeian Scrogie comes to the assistance +of the terribly great and old house of Mowbray?”</p> + +<p>“I am indeed not such a fool,” answered Mowbray, +with his eyes still bent on the ground, “to +reject assistance that comes to me like a rope to a +drowning man—but there is a circumstance”——he +stopped short and drank a glass of wine—“a +circumstance to which it is most painful to me to +allude—but you seem my friend—and I cannot +intimate to you more strongly my belief in your +professions of regard than by saying, that the language +held by Lady Penelope Penfeather on my +sister's account, renders it highly proper that she +were settled in life; and I cannot but fear, that +the breaking off the affair with this man might be +of great prejudice to her at this moment. They +will have Nettlewood, and they may live separate—he +has offered to make settlements to that effect, +even on the very day of marriage. Her condition +as a married woman will put her above scandal, +and above necessity, from which, I am sorry to say, +I cannot hope long to preserve her.”</p> + +<p>“For shame!—for shame!—for shame!” said +Touchwood, accumulating his words thicker than +usual on each other; “would you sell your own +flesh and blood to a man like this Bulmer, whose +character is now laid before you, merely because a +disappointed old maid speaks scandal of her? A +fine veneration you pay to the honoured name of +Mowbray! If my poor, old, simple father had known +what the owners of these two grand syllables could +have stooped to do for merely ensuring subsistence, +he would have thought as little of the noble +Mowbrays as of the humble Scrogies. And, I dare<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_273" id="vol_ii_Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span> +say, the young lady is just such another—eager +to get married—no matter to whom.”</p> + +<p>“Excuse me, Mr. Touchwood,” answered Mowbray; +“my sister entertains sentiments so very +different from what you ascribe to her, that she +and I parted on the most unpleasant terms, in consequence +of my pressing this man's suit upon her. +God knows, that I only did so, because I saw no +other outlet from this most unpleasant dilemma. +But, since you are willing to interfere, sir, and aid +me to disentangle these complicated matters, which +have, I own, been made worse by my own rashness, +I am ready to throw the matter completely into +your hands, just as if you were my father arisen +from the dead. Nevertheless, I must needs express +my surprise at the extent of your intelligence in +these affairs.”</p> + +<p>“You speak very sensibly, young man,” said the +traveller; “and as for my intelligence, I have for +some time known the finesses of this Master Bulmer +as perfectly as if I had been at his elbow when +he was playing all his dog's tricks with this family. +You would hardly suspect now,” he continued, in +a confidential tone, “that what you were so desirous +a while ago should take place, has in some +sense actually happened, and that the marriage ceremony +has really passed betwixt your sister and this +pretended Lord Etherington?”</p> + +<p>“Have a care, sir!” said Mowbray, fiercely; +“do not abuse my candour—this is no place, time, +or subject, for impertinent jesting.”</p> + +<p>“As I live by bread, I am serious,” said Touchwood; +“Mr. Cargill performed the ceremony; and +there are two living witnesses who heard them say +the words, ‘I, Clara, take you, Francis,’ or whatever<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_274" id="vol_ii_Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span> +the Scottish church puts in place of that mystical +formula.”</p> + +<p>“It is impossible,” said Mowbray; “Cargill dared +not have done such a thing—a clandestine proceeding, +such as you speak of, would have cost him +his living. I'll bet my soul against a horse-shoe, +it is all an imposition; and you come to disturb me, +sir, amid my family distress, with legends that have +no more truth in them than the Alkoran.”</p> + +<p>“There are some true things in the Alkoran, +(or rather, the Koran, for the Al is merely the +article prefixed,) but let that pass—I will raise your +wonder higher before I am done. It is very true, +that your sister was indeed joined in marriage with +this same Bulmer, that calls himself by the title of +Etherington; but it is just as true, that the marriage +is not worth a maravedi, for she believed him +at the time to be another person—to be, in a word, +Francis Tyrrel, who is actually what the other pretends +to be, a nobleman of fortune.”</p> + +<p>“I cannot understand one word of all this,” said +Mowbray. “I must to my sister instantly, and +demand of her if there be any real foundation for +these wonderful averments.”</p> + +<p>“Do not go,” said Touchwood, detaining him, +“you shall have a full explanation from me; and +to comfort you under your perplexity, I can assure +you that Cargill's consent to celebrate the nuptials, +was only obtained by an aspersion thrown on your +sister's character, which induced him to believe +that speedy marriage would be the sole means of +saving her reputation; and I am convinced in my +own mind it is only the revival of this report which +has furnished the foundation of Lady Penelope's +chattering.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_275" id="vol_ii_Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span></p> + +<p>“If I could think so”—said Mowbray, “if I +could but think this is truth—and it seems to +explain, in some degree, my sister's mysterious conduct—if +I could but think it true, I should fall +down and worship you as an angel from heaven!”</p> + +<p>“A proper sort of angel,” said Touchwood, looking +modestly down on his short, sturdy supporters—“Did +you ever hear of an angel in boot-hose? +Or, do you suppose angels are sent to wait on broken-down +horse-jockeys?”</p> + +<p>“Call me what you will, Mr. Touchwood,” said +the young man, “only make out your story true, +and my sister innocent!”</p> + +<p>“Very well spoken, sir,” answered the senior, +“very well spoken! But then I understand, you +are to be guided by my prudence and experience? +None of your G— damme doings, sir—your duels +or your drubbings. Let <i>me</i> manage the affair for +you, and I will bring you through with a flowing +sail.”</p> + +<p>“Sir, I must feel as a gentleman,”—said +Mowbray.</p> + +<p>“Feel as a fool,” said Touchwood, “for that is +the true case. Nothing would please this Bulmer +better than to fight through his rogueries—he +knows very well, that he who can slit a pistol-ball +on the edge of a penknife, will always preserve +some sort of reputation amidst his scoundrelism—but +I shall take care to stop that hole. Sit down—be +a man of sense, and listen to the whole of +this strange story.”</p> + +<p>Mowbray sat down accordingly; and Touchwood, +in his own way, and with many characteristic +interjectional remarks, gave him an account of the +early loves of Clara and Tyrrel—of the reasons<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_276" id="vol_ii_Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span> +which induced Bulmer at first to encourage their +correspondence, in hopes that his brother would, +by a clandestine marriage, altogether ruin himself +with his father—of the change which took place in +his views when he perceived the importance annexed +by the old Earl to the union of Miss Mowbray +with his apparent heir—of the desperate stratagem +which he endeavoured to play off, by substituting +himself in the room of his brother—and all the +consequences, which it is unnecessary to resume +here, as they are detailed at length by the perpetrator +himself, in his correspondence with Captain +Jekyl.</p> + +<p>When the whole communication was ended, +Mowbray, almost stupified by the wonders he had +heard, remained for some time in a sort of reverie, +from which he only started to ask what evidence +could be produced of a story so strange.</p> + +<p>“The evidence,” answered Touchwood, “of one +who was a deep agent in all these matters, from +first to last—as complete a rogue, I believe, as the +devil himself, with this difference, that our mortal +fiend does not, I believe, do evil for the sake of +evil, but for the sake of the profit which attends it. +How far this plea will avail him in a court of conscience, +I cannot tell; but his disposition was so +far akin to humanity, that I have always found my +old acquaintance as ready to do good as harm, providing +he had the same <i>agio</i> upon the transaction.”</p> + +<p>“On my soul,” said Mowbray, “you must mean +Solmes! whom I have long suspected to be a deep +villain—and now he proves traitor to boot. How +the devil could you get into his intimacy, Mr. +Touchwood?”</p> + +<p>“The case was particular,” said Touchwood.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_277" id="vol_ii_Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span> +“Mr. Solmes, too active a member of the community +to be satisfied with managing the affairs which his +master intrusted to him, adventured in a little business +on his own account; and thinking, I suppose, +that the late Earl of Etherington had forgotten +fully to acknowledge his services, as valet to his +son, he supplied that defect by a small check on +our house for L.100, in name, and bearing the +apparent signature, of the deceased. This small +mistake being detected, Mr. Solmes, <i>porteur</i> of the +little billet, would have been consigned to the custody +of a Bow-street officer, but that I found means +to relieve him, on condition of his making known to +me the points of private history which I have just +been communicating to you. What I had known +of Tyrrel at Smyrna, had given me much interest +in him, and you may guess it was not lessened by +the distresses which he had sustained through his +brother's treachery. By this fellow's means, I have +counterplotted all his master's fine schemes. For +example, as soon as I learned Bulmer was coming +down here, I contrived to give Tyrrel an anonymous +hint, well knowing he would set off like the devil to +thwart him, and so I should have the whole dramatis +personæ together, and play them all off against +each other, after my own pleasure.”</p> + +<p>“In that case,” said Mr. Mowbray, “your expedient +brought about the rencontre between the two +brothers, when both might have fallen.”</p> + +<p>“Can't deny it—can't deny it,” answered Scrogie, +a little discountenanced—“a mere accident—no +one can guard every point.—Egad, but I had like to +have been baffled again, for Bulmer sent the lad +Jekyl, who is not such a black sheep neither but +what there are some white hairs about him, upon<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_278" id="vol_ii_Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span> +a treaty with Tyrrel, that my secret agent was not +admitted to. Gad, but I discovered the whole—you +will scarce guess how.”</p> + +<p>“Probably not easily, indeed, sir,” answered +Mowbray; “for your sources of intelligence are +not the most obvious, any more than your mode of +acting the most simple or most comprehensible.”</p> + +<p>“I would not have it so,” said Touchwood; +“simple men perish in their simplicity—I carry +my eye-teeth about me.—And for my source of +information—why, I played the eavesdropper, sir—listened—knew +my landlady's cupboard with the +double door—got into it as she has done many a +time.—Such a fine gentleman as you would rather +cut a man's throat, I suppose, than listen at a cupboard +door, though the object were to prevent +murder?”</p> + +<p>“I cannot say I should have thought of the +expedient, certainly, sir,” said Mowbray.</p> + +<p>“I did, though,” said Scrogie, “and learned +enough of what was going on, to give Jekyl a hint +that sickened him of his commission, I believe—so +the game is all in my own hands. Bulmer has no +one to trust to but Solmes, and Solmes tells me +every thing.”</p> + +<p>Here Mowbray could not suppress a movement +of impatience.</p> + +<p>“I wish to God, sir, that since you were so kind +as to interest yourself in affairs so intimately concerning +my family, you had been pleased to act +with a little more openness towards me. Here +have I been for weeks the intimate of a damned +scoundrel, whose throat I ought to have cut for his +scandalous conduct to my sister. Here have I been +rendering her and myself miserable, and getting<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_279" id="vol_ii_Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span> +myself cheated every night by a swindler, whom +you, if it had been your pleasure, could have +unmasked by a single word. I do all justice to your +intentions, sir; but, upon my soul, I cannot help +wishing you had conducted yourself with more +frankness and less mystery; and I am truly afraid +your love of dexterity has been too much for your +ingenuity, and that you have suffered matters to +run into such a skein of confusion, as you yourself +will find difficulty in unravelling.”</p> + +<p>Touchwood smiled, and shook his head in all the +conscious pride of superior understanding. “Young +man,” he said, “when you have seen a little of the +world, and especially beyond the bounds of this +narrow island, you will find much more art and +dexterity necessary in conducting these businesses +to an issue, than occurs to a blind John Bull, or a +raw Scotchman. You will be then no stranger to +the policy of life, which deals in mining and countermining,—now +in making feints, now in thrusting +with forthright passes. I look upon you, Mr. +Mowbray, as a young man spoiled by staying at +home, and keeping bad company; and will make +it my business, if you submit yourself to my guidance, +to inform your understanding, so as to retrieve +your estate.—Don't—Don't answer me, sir! +because I know too well, by experience, how young +men answer on these subjects—they are conceited, +sir, as conceited as if they had been in all the four +quarters of the world. I hate to be answered, sir, +I hate it. And, to tell you the truth, it is because +Tyrrel has a fancy of answering me, that I rather +make you my confidant on this occasion, than him. +I would have had him throw himself into my arms, +and under my directions; but he hesitated—he<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_280" id="vol_ii_Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span> +hesitated, Mr. Mowbray—and I despise hesitation. +If he thinks he has wit enough to manage his own +matters, let him try it—let him try it. Not but +I will do all I can for him, in fitting time and +place; but I will let him dwell in his perplexities +and uncertainties for a little while longer. And so, +Mr. Mowbray, you see what sort of an odd fellow I +am, and you can satisfy me at once whether you +mean to come into my measures—only speak out +at once, sir, for I abhor hesitation.”</p> + +<p>While Touchwood thus spoke, Mowbray was +forming his resolution internally. He was not so +inexperienced as the senior supposed; at least, he +could plainly see that he had to do with an obstinate, +capricious old man, who, with the best intentions +in the world, chose to have every thing in his +own way; and, like most petty politicians, was disposed +to throw intrigue and mystery over matters +which had much better be prosecuted boldly and +openly. But he perceived at the same time, that +Touchwood, as a sort of relation, wealthy, childless, +and disposed to become his friend, was a person to +be conciliated, the rather that the traveller himself +had frankly owned that it was Francis Tyrrel's +want of deference towards him, which had forfeited, +or at least abated, his favour. Mowbray recollected, +also, that the circumstances under which he himself +stood, did not permit him to trifle with returning +gleams of good fortune. Subduing, therefore, the +haughtiness of temper proper to him as an only +son and heir, he answered respectfully, that, in his +condition, the advice and assistance of Mr. Scrogie +Touchwood were too important, not to be purchased +at the price of submitting his own judgment +to that of an experienced and sagacious friend.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_281" id="vol_ii_Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Well said, Mr. Mowbray,” replied the senior, +“well said. Let me once have the management of +your affairs, and we will brush them up for you +without loss of time.—I must be obliged to you for +a bed for the night, however—it is as dark as a +wolf's mouth; and if you will give orders to keep +the poor devil of a postilion, and his horses too, +why, I will be the more obliged to you.”</p> + +<p>Mowbray applied himself to the bell. Patrick +answered the call, and was much surprised, when +the old gentleman, taking the word out of his entertainer's +mouth, desired a bed to be got ready, with +a little fire in the grate; “for I take it, friend,” he +went on, “you have not guests here very often.—And +see that my sheets be not damp, and bid the +housemaid take care not to make the bed upon an +exact level, but let it slope from the pillow to the +footposts, at a declivity of about eighteen inches.—And +hark ye—get me a jug of barley-water, to +place by my bedside, with the squeeze of a lemon—or +stay, you will make it as sour as Beelzebub—bring +the lemon on a saucer, and I will mix it +myself.”</p> + +<p>Patrick listened like one of sense forlorn, his +head turning like a mandarin, alternately from the +speaker to his master, as if to ask the latter whether +this was all reality. The instant that Touchwood +stopped, Mowbray added his fiat.</p> + +<p>“Let every thing be done to make Mr. Touchwood +comfortable, in the way he wishes.”</p> + +<p>“Aweel, sir,” said Patrick, “I shall tell Mally, +to be sure, and we maun do our best, and—but it's +unco late”——</p> + +<p>“And, therefore,” said Touchwood, “the sooner +we get to bed the better, my old friend. I, for one,<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_282" id="vol_ii_Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span> +must be stirring early—I have business of life and +death—it concerns you too, Mr. Mowbray—but no +more of that till to-morrow.—And let the lad put +up his horses, and get him a bed somewhere.”</p> + +<p>Patrick here thought he had gotten upon firm +ground for resistance, for which, displeased with +the dictatorial manner of the stranger, he felt +considerably inclined.</p> + +<p>“Ye may catch us at that, if ye can,” said +Patrick; “there's nae post cattle come into our +stables—What do we ken, but that they may be +glandered, as the groom says?”</p> + +<p>“We must take the risk to-night, Patrick,” said +Mowbray, reluctantly enough—“unless Mr. Touchwood +will permit the horses to come back early next +morning?”</p> + +<p>“Not I, indeed,” said Touchwood; “safe bind +safe find—it may be once away and aye away, and +we shall have enough to do to-morrow morning. +Moreover, the poor carrion are tired, and the merciful +man is merciful to his beast—and, in a word, +if the horses go back to St. Ronan's Well to-night, +I go there for company.”</p> + +<p>It often happens, owing, I suppose, to the perversity +of human nature, that subserviency in trifles +is more difficult to a proud mind, than compliance +in matters of more importance. Mowbray, like +other young gentlemen of his class, was finically +rigid in his stable discipline, and even Lord Etherington's +horses had not been admitted into that +<i>sanctum sanctorum</i>, into which he now saw himself +obliged to induct two wretched post-hacks. But +he submitted with the best grace he could; and +Patrick, while he left their presence, with lifted-up +hands and eyes to execute the orders he had<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_283" id="vol_ii_Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span> +received, could scarcely help thinking that the old +man must be the devil in disguise, since he could +thus suddenly control his fiery master, even in the +points which he had hitherto seemed to consider as +of most vital importance.</p> + +<p>“The Lord in his mercy haud a grip of this +puir family! for I, that was born in it, am like to +see the end of it.” Thus ejaculated Patrick.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_284" id="vol_ii_Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol_ii_CHAPTER_XVIII" id="vol_ii_CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII.</h2> + +<h3>THE WANDERER.</h3> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 4em;">'Tis a naughty night to swim in.<br /></span> +</p> +<p class="citation"> +<i>King Lear.</i><br /> +</p> + + +<p>There was a wild uncertainty about Mowbray's +ideas, after he started from a feverish sleep on the +morning succeeding this memorable interview, that +his sister, whom he really loved as much as he was +capable of loving any thing, had dishonoured him +and her name; and the horrid recollection of their +last interview was the first idea which his waking +imagination was thrilled with. Then came Touchwood's +tale of exculpation—and he persuaded +himself, or strove to do so, that Clara must have +understood the charge he had brought against her +as referring to her attachment to Tyrrel, and its fatal +consequences. Again, still he doubted how that +could be—still feared that there must be more +behind than her reluctance to confess the fraud which +had been practised on her by Bulmer; and then, +again, he strengthened himself in the first and more +pleasing opinion, by recollecting that, averse as she +was to espouse the person he proposed to her, it +must have appeared to her the completion of ruin, +if he, Mowbray, should obtain knowledge of the +clandestine marriage.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_285" id="vol_ii_Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Yes—O yes,” he said to himself, “she would +think that this story would render me more eager +in the rascal's interest, as the best way of hushing +up such a discreditable affair—faith, and she would +have judged right too; for, had he actually been +Lord Etherington, I do not see what else she could +have done. But, not being Lord Etherington, and +an anointed scoundrel into the bargain, I will content +myself with cudgelling him to death so soon as +I can get out of the guardianship of this old, meddling, +obstinate, self-willed, busybody.—Then, what +is to be done for Clara?—This mock marriage was +a mere bubble, and both parties must draw stakes. +She likes this grave Don, who proves to be the stick +of the right tree, after all—so do not I, though +there be something lordlike about him. I was sure +a strolling painter could not have carried it off so. +She may marry him, I suppose, if the law is not +against it—then she has the earldom, and the Oaklands, +and Nettlewood, all at once.—Gad, we should +come in winners, after all—and, I dare say, this old +boy Touchwood is as rich as a Jew—worth a hundred +thousand at least—He is too peremptory to +be cut up for sixpence under a hundred thousand.—And +he talks of putting me to rights—I must not +wince—must stand still to be curried a little—Only, +I wish the law may permit Clara's being married +to this other earl.—A woman cannot marry two +brothers, that is certain:—but then, if she is not +married to the one of them in good and lawful form, +there can be no bar to her marrying the other, I +should think—I hope the lawyers will talk no nonsense +about it—I hope Clara will have no foolish +scruples.—But, by my word, the first thing I have +to hope is, that the thing is true, for it comes through<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_286" id="vol_ii_Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span> +but a suspicious channel. I'll away to Clara instantly—get +the truth out of her—and consider what is +to be done.”</p> + +<p>Thus partly thought and partly spoke the young +Laird of St. Ronan's, hastily dressing himself, in +order to enquire into the strange chaos of events +which perplexed his imagination.</p> + +<p>When he came down to the parlour where they +had supped last night, and where breakfast was +prepared this morning, he sent for a girl who acted +as his sister's immediate attendant, and asked, “if +Miss Mowbray was yet stirring?”</p> + +<p>The girl answered, “she had not rung her bell.”</p> + +<p>“It is past her usual hour,” said Mowbray, “but +she was disturbed last night. Go, Martha, tell her to +get up instantly—say I have excellent good news +for her—or, if her head aches, I will come and tell +them to her before she rises—go like lightning.”</p> + +<p>Martha went, and returned in a minute or two. +“I cannot make my mistress hear, sir, knock as +loud as I will. I wish,” she added, with that love +of evil presage which is common in the lower ranks, +“that Miss Clara may be well, for I never knew her +sleep so sound.”</p> + +<p>Mowbray jumped from the chair into which he +had thrown himself, ran through the gallery, and +knocked smartly at his sister's door; there was no +answer. “Clara, dear Clara!—Answer me but +one word—say but you are well. I frightened you +last night—I had been drinking wine—I was +violent—forgive me!—Come, do not be sulky—speak +but a single word—say but you are +well.”</p> + +<p>He made the pauses longer betwixt every branch +of his address, knocked sharper and louder, listened<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_287" id="vol_ii_Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span> +more anxiously for an answer; at length he +attempted to open the door, but found it locked, or +otherwise secured. “Does Miss Mowbray always +lock her door?” he asked the girl.</p> + +<p>“Never knew her to do it before, sir; she leaves +it open that I may call her, and open the window-shutters.”</p> + +<p>She had too good reason for precaution last night, +thought her brother, and then remembered having +heard her bar the door.</p> + +<p>“Come, Clara,” he continued, greatly agitated, +“do not be silly; if you will not open the door, I +must force it, that's all; for how can I tell but that +you are sick, and unable to answer?—if you are +only sullen, say so.—She returns no answer,” he +said, turning to the domestic, who was now joined +by Touchwood.</p> + +<p>Mowbray's anxiety was so great, that it prevented +his taking any notice of his guest, and he proceeded +to say, without regarding his presence, +“What is to be done?—she may be sick—she may +be asleep—she may have swooned; if I force the +door, it may terrify her to death in the present +weak state of her nerves.—Clara, dear Clara! do +but speak a single word, and you shall remain in +your own room as long as you please.”</p> + +<p>There was no answer. Miss Mowbray's maid, +hitherto too much fluttered and alarmed to have +much presence of mind, now recollected a back-stair +which communicated with her mistress's room +from the garden, and suggested she might have +gone out that way.</p> + +<p>“Gone out,” said Mowbray, in great anxiety, and +looking at the heavy fog, or rather small rain, which +blotted the November morning,—“Gone out, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_288" id="vol_ii_Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span> +in weather like this!—But we may get into her +room from the back-stair.”</p> + +<p>So saying, and leaving his guest to follow or +remain as he thought proper, he flew rather than +walked to the garden, and found the private door +which led into it, from the bottom of the back-stair +above mentioned, was wide open. Full of vague, +but fearful apprehensions, he rushed up to the door +of his sister's apartment, which opened from her +dressing-room to the landing-place of the stair; it +was ajar, and that which communicated betwixt the +bedroom and dressing-room was half open. “Clara, +Clara!” exclaimed Mowbray, invoking her name +rather in an agony of apprehension, than as any +longer hoping for a reply. And his apprehension +was but too prophetic.</p> + +<p>Miss Mowbray was not in that apartment; and, +from the order in which it was found, it was plain +she had neither undressed on the preceding night, +nor occupied the bed. Mowbray struck his forehead +in an agony of remorse and fear. “I have +terrified her to death,” he said; “she has fled into +the woods, and perished there!”</p> + +<p>Under the influence of this apprehension, Mowbray, +after another hasty glance around the +apartment, as if to assure himself that Clara was not +there, rushed again into the dressing-room, almost +overturning the traveller, who, in civility, had not +ventured to enter the inner apartment. “You +are as mad as a <i>Hamako</i>,”<a name="vol_ii_FNanchor_11_11" id="vol_ii_FNanchor_11_11"></a><a href="#vol_ii_Footnote_11_11" class="fnanchor">[11]</a> said the traveller; +“let us consult together, and I am sure I can +contrive”——</p> + +<p>“Oh, d—n your contrivance!” said Mowbray,<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_289" id="vol_ii_Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span> +forgetting all proposed respect in his natural impatience, +aggravated by his alarm; “if you had +behaved straight-forward, and like a man of common +sense, this would not have happened!”</p> + +<p>“God forgive you, young man, if your reflections +are unjust,” said the traveller, quitting the hold he +had laid upon Mowbray's coat; “and God forgive +me too, if I have done wrong while endeavouring +to do for the best!—But may not Miss Mowbray +have gone down to the Well? I will order my +horses, and set off instantly.”</p> + +<p>“Do, do,” said Mowbray, recklessly; “I thank you, +I thank you;” and hastily traversing the garden, +as if desirous to get rid at once of his visitor and +his own thoughts, he took the shortest road to +a little postern-gate, which led into the extensive +copsewood, through some part of which Clara had +caused a walk to be cut to a little summer-house +built of rough shingles, covered with creeping +shrubs.</p> + +<p>As Mowbray hastened through the garden, he +met the old man by whom it was kept, a native +of the south country, and an old dependent on the +family. “Have you seen my sister?” said Mowbray, +hurrying his words on each other with the +eagerness of terror.</p> + +<p>“What's your wull, St. Ronan's?” answered the +old man, at once dull of hearing, and slow of +apprehension.</p> + +<p>“Have you seen Miss Clara?” shouted Mowbray, +and muttered an oath or two at the gardener's +stupidity.</p> + +<p>“In troth have I,” replied the gardener, deliberately; +“what suld ail me to see Miss Clara, St. +Ronan's?”<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_290" id="vol_ii_Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span></p> + +<p>“When, and where?” eagerly demanded the +querist.</p> + +<p>“Ou, just yestreen, after tey-time—afore ye cam +hame yoursell galloping sae fast,” said old Joseph.</p> + +<p>“I am as stupid as he, to put off my time in speaking +to such an old cabbage-stock!” said Mowbray, +and hastened on to the postern-gate already mentioned, +leading from the garden into what was +usually called Miss Clara's walk. Two or three +domestics, whispering to each other, and with countenances +that showed grief, fear, and suspicion, +followed their master, desirous to be employed, yet +afraid to force their services on the fiery young man.</p> + +<p>At the little postern he found some trace of her +he sought. The pass-key of Clara was left in the +lock. It was then plain that she must have passed +that way; but at what hour, or for what purpose, +Mowbray dared not conjecture. The path, after +running a quarter of a mile or more through an +open grove of oaks and sycamores, attained the +verge of the large brook, and became there steep and +rocky, difficult to the infirm, and alarming to the +nervous; often approaching the brink of a precipitous +ledge of rock, which in this place overhung the +stream, in some places brawling and foaming in +hasty current, and in others seeming to slumber in +deep and circular eddies. The temptations which +this dangerous scene must have offered an excited +and desperate spirit, came on Mowbray like the +blight of the Simoom, and he stood a moment to +gather breath and overcome these horrible anticipations, +ere he was able to proceed. His attendants +felt the same apprehension. “Puir thing—puir +thing!—O, God send she may not have been left to +hersell!—God send she may have been upholden!”<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_291" id="vol_ii_Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span> +were whispered by Patrick to the maidens, and by +them to each other.</p> + +<p>At this moment the old gardener was heard behind +them, shouting, “Master—St. Ronan's—Master—I +have fund—I have fund”——</p> + +<p>“Have you found my sister?” exclaimed the +brother, with breathless anxiety.</p> + +<p>The old man did not answer till he came up, and +then, with his usual slowness of delivery, he replied +to his master's repeated enquiries, “Na, I haena fund +Miss Clara, but I hae fund something ye wad be +wae to lose—your braw hunting-knife.”</p> + +<p>He put the implement into the hand of its owner, +who, recollecting the circumstances under which he +had flung it from him last night, and the now too +probable consequences of that interview, bestowed +on it a deep imprecation, and again hurled it from +him into the brook. The domestics looked at each +other, and recollecting each at the same time that +the knife was a favourite tool of their master, who +was rather curious in such articles, had little doubt +that his mind was affected, in a temporary way at +least, by his anxiety on his sister's account. He +saw their confused and inquisitive looks, and assuming +as much composure and presence of mind as he +could command, directed Martha, and her female +companions, to return and search the walks on the +other side of Shaws-Castle; and, finally, ordered +Patrick back to ring the bell, “which,” he said, +assuming a confidence that he was far from entertaining, +“might call Miss Mowbray home from some +of her long walks.” He farther desired his groom +and horses might meet him at the Clattering Brig, +so called from a noisy cascade which was formed by +the brook, above which was stretched a small foot<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_292" id="vol_ii_Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span>-bridge +of planks. Having thus shaken off his +attendants, he proceeded himself, with all the speed +he was capable of exerting, to follow out the path +in which he was at present engaged, which, being +a favourite walk with his sister, she might perhaps +have adopted from mere habit, when in a state of +mind, which, he had too much reason to fear, must +have put choice out of the question.</p> + +<p>He soon reached the summer-house, which was +merely a seat covered overhead and on the sides, +open in front, and neatly paved with pebbles. This +little bower was perched, like a hawk's nest, almost +upon the edge of a projecting crag, the highest point +of the line of rock which we have noticed; and had +been selected by poor Clara, on account of the prospect +which it commanded down the valley. One of +her gloves lay on the small rustic table in the summer-house. +Mowbray caught it eagerly up. It was +drenched with wet—the preceding day had been +dry; so that, had she forgot it there in the morning, +or in the course of the day, it could not have been +in that state. She had certainly been there during +the night, when it rained heavily.</p> + +<p>Mowbray, thus assured that Clara had been in +this place, while her passions and fears were so much +afloat as they must have been at her flight from her +father's house, cast a hurried and terrified glance +from the brow of the precipice into the deep stream +that eddied below. It seemed to him that, in the +sullen roar of the water, he heard the last groans of +his sister—the foam-flakes caught his eye, as if +they were a part of her garments. But a closer +examination showed that there was no appearance +of such a catastrophe. Descending the path on the +other side of the bower, he observed a foot-print in<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_293" id="vol_ii_Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span> +a place where the clay was moist and tenacious, +which, from the small size, and the shape of the +shoe, it appeared to him must be a trace of her +whom he sought. He hurried forward, therefore, +with as much speed, as yet permitted him to look +out keenly for similar impressions, of which it +seemed to him he remarked several, although less +perfect than the former, being much obliterated by +the quantity of rain that had since fallen,—a circumstance +seeming to prove that several hours had +elapsed since the person had passed.</p> + +<p>At length, through the various turnings and +windings of a long and romantic path, Mowbray +found himself, without having received any satisfactory +intelligence, by the side of the brook, called +St. Ronan's Burn, at the place where it was crossed +by foot-passengers, by the Clattering Brig, and by +horsemen through a ford a little lower. At this +point the fugitive might have either continued her +wanderings through her paternal woods, by a path +which, after winding about a mile, returned to +Shaws-Castle, or she might have crossed the bridge, +and entered a broken horse-way, common to the +public, leading to the Aultoun of St. Ronan's.</p> + +<p>Mowbray, after a moment's consideration, concluded +that the last was her most probable option.—He +mounted his horse, which the groom had +brought down according to order, and commanding +the man to return by the footpath, which he himself +could not examine, he proceeded to ride towards +the ford. The brook was swollen during the night, +and the groom could not forbear intimating to +his master, that there was considerable danger in +attempting to cross it. But Mowbray's mind and +feelings were too high-strung to permit him to<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_294" id="vol_ii_Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span> +listen to cautious counsel. He spurred the snorting +and reluctant horse into the torrent, though +the water, rising high on the upper side, broke both +over the pommel and the croupe of his saddle. It +was by exertion of great strength and sagacity, that +the good horse kept the ford-way. Had the stream +forced him down among the rocks, which lie below +the crossing-place, the consequences must have been +fatal. Mowbray, however, reached the opposite +side in safety, to the joy and admiration of the +servant, who stood staring at him during the adventure. +He then rode hastily towards the Aultoun, +determined, if he could not hear tidings of his +sister in that village, that he would spread the alarm, +and institute a general search after her, since her +elopement from Shaws-Castle could, in that case, +no longer be concealed. We must leave him, however, +in his present state of uncertainty, in order to +acquaint our readers with the reality of those evils, +which his foreboding mind and disturbed conscience +could only anticipate.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_295" id="vol_ii_Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol_ii_CHAPTER_XIX" id="vol_ii_CHAPTER_XIX"></a>CHAPTER XIX.</h2> + +<h3>THE CATASTROPHE.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">What sheeted ghost is wandering through the storm?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">For never did a maid of middle earth<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Choose such a time or spot to vent her sorrows.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="citation"> +<i>Old Play.</i><br /> +</p> + + +<p>Grief, shame, confusion, and terror, had contributed +to overwhelm the unfortunate Clara Mowbray at +the moment when she parted with her brother, +after the stormy and dangerous interview which +it was our task to record in a former chapter. For +years, her life, her whole tenor of thought, had +been haunted by the terrible apprehension of a +discovery, and now the thing which she feared +had come upon her. The extreme violence of her +brother, which went so far as to menace her personal +safety, had united with the previous conflict +of passions, to produce a rapture of fear, which +probably left her no other free agency, than that +which she derived from the blind instinct which +urges flight, as the readiest resource in danger.</p> + +<p>We have no means of exactly tracing the course +of this unhappy young woman. It is probable she +fled from Shaws-Castle, on hearing the arrival of +Mr. Touchwood's carriage, which she might mistake +for that of Lord Etherington; and thus, while +Mowbray was looking forward to the happier prospects +which the traveller's narrative seemed to open,<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_296" id="vol_ii_Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span> +his sister was contending with rain and darkness, +amidst the difficulties and dangers of the mountain +path which we have described. These were so great, +that a young woman more delicately brought up, +must either have lain down exhausted, or have been +compelled to turn her steps back to the residence +she had abandoned. But the solitary wanderings +of Clara had inured her to fatigue and to night-walks; +and the deeper causes of terror which urged +her to flight, rendered her insensible to the perils +of her way. She had passed the bower, as was +evident from her glove remaining there, and had +crossed the foot-bridge; although it was almost +wonderful, that, in so dark a night, she should have +followed with such accuracy a track, where the +missing a single turn by a cubit's length, might +have precipitated her into eternity.</p> + +<p>It is probable, that Clara's spirits and strength +began in some degree to fail her, after she had proceeded +a little way on the road to the Aultoun; for +she had stopped at the solitary cottage inhabited +by the old female pauper, who had been for a time +the hostess of the penitent and dying Hannah +Irwin. Here, as the inmate of the cottage acknowledged, +she had made some knocking, and she owned +she had heard her moan bitterly, as she entreated +for admission. The old hag was one of those whose +hearts adversity turns to very stone, and obstinately +kept her door shut, impelled more probably by +general hatred to the human race, than by the +superstitious fears which seized her; although she +perversely argued that she was startled at the +supernatural melody and sweetness of tone, with +which the benighted wanderer made her supplication. +She admitted, that when she heard the poor<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_297" id="vol_ii_Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span> +petitioner turn from the door, her heart was softened, +and she did intend to open with the purpose +of offering her at least a shelter; but that before +she could “hirple to the door, and get the bar taken +down,” the unfortunate supplicant was not to be +seen; which strengthened the old woman's opinion, +that the whole was a delusion of Satan.</p> + +<p>It is conjectured that the repulsed wanderer made +no other attempt to awaken pity or obtain shelter, +until she came to Mr. Cargill's Manse, in the upper +room of which a light was still burning, owing to a +cause which requires some explanation.</p> + +<p>The reader is aware of the reasons which induced +Bulmer, or the titular Lord Etherington, to withdraw +from the country the sole witness, as he +conceived, who could, or at least who might choose +to bear witness to the fraud which he had practised +on the unfortunate Clara Mowbray. Of three persons +present at the marriage, besides the parties, +the clergyman was completely deceived. Solmes he +conceived to be at his own exclusive devotion; and +therefore, if by his means this Hannah Irwin could +be removed from the scene, he argued plausibly, +that all evidence to the treachery which he had +practised would be effectually stifled. Hence his +agent, Solmes, had received a commission, as the +reader may remember, to effect her removal without +loss of time, and had reported to his master that +his efforts had been effectual.</p> + +<p>But Solmes, since he had fallen under the influence +of Touchwood, was constantly employed in +counteracting the schemes which he seemed most +active in forwarding, while the traveller enjoyed (to +him an exquisite gratification) the amusement of +countermining as fast as Bulmer could mine, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_298" id="vol_ii_Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span> +had in prospect the pleasing anticipation of blowing +up the pioneer with his own petard. For this purpose, +as soon as Touchwood learned that his house +was to be applied to for the original deeds left in +charge by the deceased Earl of Etherington, he +expedited a letter, directing that only the copies +should be sent, and thus rendered nugatory Bulmer's +desperate design of possessing himself of that +evidence. For the same reason, when Solmes +announced to him his master's anxious wish to +have Hannah Irwin conveyed out of the country, +he appointed him to cause the sick woman to be +carefully transported to the Manse, where Mr. +Cargill was easily induced to give her temporary +refuge.</p> + +<p>To this good man, who might be termed an +Israelite without guile, the distress of the unhappy +woman would have proved a sufficient recommendation; +nor was he likely to have enquired whether +her malady might not be infectious, or to have made +any of those other previous investigations which are +sometimes clogs upon the bounty or hospitality of +more prudent philanthropists. But to interest him +yet farther, Mr. Touchwood informed him by letter +that the patient (not otherwise unknown to him) +was possessed of certain most material information +affecting a family of honour and consequence, and +that he himself, with Mr. Mowbray of St. Ronan's +in the quality of a magistrate, intended to be at the +Manse that evening, to take her declaration upon +this important subject. Such indeed was the traveller's +purpose, which might have been carried into +effect, but for his own self-important love of manœuvring +on the one part, and the fiery impatience +of Mowbray on the other, which, as the reader<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_299" id="vol_ii_Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span> +knows, sent the one at full gallop to Shaws-Castle, +and obliged the other to follow him post haste. This +necessity he intimated to the clergyman by a note, +which he dispatched express as he himself was in +the act of stepping into the chaise.</p> + +<p>He requested that the most particular attention +should be paid to the invalid—promised to be at +the Manse with Mr. Mowbray early on the morrow—and, +with the lingering and inveterate self-conceit +which always induced him to conduct every +thing with his own hand, directed his friend, Mr. +Cargill, not to proceed to take the sick woman's +declaration or confession until he arrived, unless in +case of extremity.</p> + +<p>It had been an easy matter for Solmes to transfer +the invalid from the wretched cottage to the +clergyman's Manse. The first appearance of the +associate of much of her guilt had indeed terrified +her; but he scrupled not to assure her, that his +penitence was equal to her own, and that he was +conveying her where their joint deposition would +be formally received, in order that they might, so +far as possible, atone for the evil of which they had +been jointly guilty. He also promised her kind +usage for herself, and support for her children; and +she willingly accompanied him to the clergyman's +residence, he himself resolving to abide in concealment +the issue of the mystery, without again facing +his master, whose star, as he well discerned, was +about to shoot speedily from its exalted sphere.</p> + +<p>The clergyman visited the unfortunate patient, +as he had done frequently during her residence in +his vicinity, and desired that she might be carefully +attended. During the whole day, she seemed better; +but, whether the means of supporting her<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_300" id="vol_ii_Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span> +exhausted frame had been too liberally administered, +or whether the thoughts which gnawed her conscience +had returned with double severity when she +was released from the pressure of immediate want, +it is certain that, about midnight, the fever began +to gain ground, and the person placed in attendance +on her came to inform the clergyman, then deeply +engaged with the siege of Ptolemais, that she doubted +if the woman would live till morning, and that +she had something lay heavy at her heart, which +she wished, as the emissary expressed it, “to make, +a clean breast of” before she died, or lost possession +of her senses.</p> + +<p>Awakened by such a crisis, Mr. Cargill at once +became a man of this world, clear in his apprehension, +and cool in his resolution, as he always was +when the path of duty lay before him. Comprehending, +from the various hints of his friend Touchwood, +that the matter was of the last consequence, his +own humanity, as well as inexperience, dictated +his sending for skilful assistance. His man-servant +was accordingly dispatched on horseback to the +Well for Dr. Quackleben; while, upon the suggestion +of one of his maids, “that Mrs. Dods was +an uncommon skeely body about a sick-bed,” the +wench was dismissed to supplicate the assistance +of the gudewife of the Cleikum, which she was not, +indeed, wont to refuse whenever it could be useful. +The male emissary proved, in Scottish phrase, a +“corbie messenger;”<a name="vol_ii_FNanchor_G_19" id="vol_ii_FNanchor_G_19"></a><a href="#vol_ii_Footnote_G_19" class="fnanchor">[G]</a> for either he did not find +the doctor, or he found him better engaged than to +attend the sick-bed of a pauper, at a request which +promised such slight remuneration as that of a parish +minister. But the female ambassador was more +successful; for, though she found our friend Luckie<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_301" id="vol_ii_Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span> +Dods preparing for bed at an hour unusually late, +in consequence of some anxiety on account of Mr. +Touchwood's unexpected absence, the good old +dame only growled a little about the minister's fancies +in taking puir bodies into his own house; and +then, instantly donning cloak, hood, and pattens, +marched down the gate with all the speed of the +good Samaritan, one maid bearing the lantern before +her, while the other remained to keep the house, and +to attend to the wants of Mr. Tyrrel, who engaged +willingly to sit up to receive Mr. Touchwood.</p> + +<p>But, ere Dame Dods had arrived at the Manse, the +patient had summoned Mr. Cargill to her presence, +and required him to write her confession while she +had life and breath to make it.</p> + +<p>“For I believe,” she added, raising herself in the +bed, and rolling her eyes wildly around, “that, +were I to confess my guilt to one of a less sacred +character, the Evil Spirit, whose servant I have +been, would carry away his prey, both body and +soul, before they had severed from each other, +however short the space that they must remain in +partnership!”</p> + +<p>Mr. Cargill would have spoken some ghostly consolation, +but she answered with pettish impatience, +“Waste not words—waste not words!—Let me +speak that which I must tell, and sign it with my +hand; and do you, as the more immediate servant +of God, and therefore bound to bear witness to the +truth, take heed you write that which I tell you, +and nothing else. I desired to have told this to +St. Ronan's—I have even made some progress in +telling it to others—but I am glad I broke short +off—for I know you, Josiah Cargill, though you +have long forgotten me.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_302" id="vol_ii_Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span></p> + +<p>“It may be so,” said Cargill. “I have indeed +no recollection of you.”</p> + +<p>“You once knew Hannah Irwin, though,” said +the sick woman, “who was companion and relation +to Miss Clara Mowbray, and who was present with +her on that sinful night, when she was wedded in +the kirk of St. Ronan's.”</p> + +<p>“Do you mean to say that you are that person?” +said Cargill, holding the candle so as to throw some +light on the face of the sick woman. “I cannot +believe it.”</p> + +<p>“No?” replied the penitent; “there is indeed +a difference between wickedness in the act of +carrying through its successful machinations, and +wickedness surrounded by all the horrors of a +death-bed!”</p> + +<p>“Do not yet despair,” said Cargill. “Grace is omnipotent—to +doubt this is in itself a great crime.”</p> + +<p>“Be it so!—I cannot help it—my heart is +hardened, Mr. Cargill; and there is something here,” +she pressed her bosom, “which tells me, that, with +prolonged life and renewed health, even my present +agonies would be forgotten, and I should become +the same I have been before. I have rejected the +offer of grace, Mr. Cargill, and not through ignorance, +for I have sinned with my eyes open. Care not +for me, then, who am a mere outcast.” He again +endeavoured to interrupt her, but she continued, +“Or if you really wish my welfare, let me relieve +my bosom of that which presses it, and it may be +that I shall then be better able to listen to you. +You say you remember me not—but if I tell +you how often you refused to perform in secret +the office which was required of you—how much +you urged that it was against your canonical rules<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_303" id="vol_ii_Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span>—if +I name the argument to which you yielded—and +remind you of your purpose, to acknowledge +your transgression to your brethren in the church +courts, to plead your excuse, and submit to their +censure, which you said could not be a light one—you +will be then aware, that, in the voice of the +miserable pauper, you hear the words of the once +artful, gay, and specious Hannah Irwin.”</p> + +<p>“I allow it—I allow it!” said Mr. Cargill; “I +admit the tokens, and believe you to be indeed her +whose name you assume.”</p> + +<p>“Then one painful step is over,” said she; “for +I would ere now have lightened my conscience by +confession, saving for the cursed pride of spirit, +which was ashamed of poverty, though it had not +shrunk from guilt.—Well—In these arguments, +which were urged to you by a youth best known +to you by the name of Francis Tyrrel, though more +properly entitled to that of Valentine Bulmer, we +practised on you a base and gross deception.—Did +you not hear some one sigh?—I hope there is no +one in the room—I trust I shall die when my confession +is signed and sealed, without my name being +dragged through the public—I hope ye bring not +in your menials to gaze on my abject misery—I +cannot brook that.”</p> + +<p>She paused and listened; for the ear, usually +deafened by pain, is sometimes, on the contrary, +rendered morbidly acute. Mr. Cargill assured her, +there was no one present but himself. “But, O, +most unhappy woman!” he said, “what does your +introduction prepare me to expect!”</p> + +<p>“Your expectation, be it ever so ominous, shall +be fully satisfied.—I was the guilty confidant of +the false Francis Tyrrel.—Clara loved the true<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_304" id="vol_ii_Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span> +one.—When the fatal ceremony passed, the bride +and the clergyman were deceived alike—and I +was the wretch—the fiend—who, aiding another +yet blacker, if blacker could be—mainly helped +to accomplish this cureless misery!”</p> + +<p>“Wretch!” exclaimed the clergyman, “and had +you not then done enough?—Why did you expose +the betrothed of one brother to become the wife of +another?”</p> + +<p>“I acted,” said the sick woman, “only as Bulmer +instructed me; but I had to do with a master of +the game. He contrived, by his agent Solmes, to +match me with a husband imposed on me by his +devices as a man of fortune!—a wretch, who maltreated +me—plundered me—sold me.—Oh! if +fiends laugh, as I have heard they can, what a +jubilee of scorn will there be, when Bulmer and I +enter their place of torture!—Hark!—I am sure +of it—some one draws breath, as if shuddering!”</p> + +<p>“You will distract yourself if you give way to +these fancies. Be calm—speak on—but, oh! at +last, and for once, speak the truth!”</p> + +<p>“I will, for it will best gratify my hatred against +him, who, having first robbed me of my virtue, +made me a sport and a plunder to the basest of the +species. For that I wandered here to unmask him. +I had heard he again stirred his suit to Clara, and +I came here to tell young Mowbray the whole.—But +do you wonder that I shrunk from doing so +till this last decisive moment?—I thought of my +conduct to Clara, and how could I face her brother?—And +yet I hated her not after I learned her utter +wretchedness—her deep misery, verging even upon +madness—I hated her not then. I was sorry that +she was not to fall to the lot of a better man than<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_305" id="vol_ii_Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span> +Bulmer;—and I pitied her after she was rescued +by Tyrrel, and you may remember it was I who +prevailed on you to conceal her marriage.”</p> + +<p>“I remember it,” answered Cargill, “and that +you alleged, as a reason for secrecy, danger from +her family. I did conceal it, until reports that she +was again to be married reached my ears.”</p> + +<p>“Well, then,” said the sick woman, “Clara +Mowbray ought to forgive me—since what ill I +have done her was inevitable, while the good I did +was voluntary.—I must see her, Josiah Cargill—I +must see her before I die—I shall never pray till +I see her—I shall never profit by word of godliness +till I see her! If I cannot obtain the pardon +of a worm like myself, how can I hope for that +of”——</p> + +<p>She started at these words with a faint scream; +for slowly, and with a feeble hand, the curtains of +the bed opposite to the side at which Cargill sat, +were opened, and the figure of Clara Mowbray, her +clothes and long hair drenched and dripping with +rain, stood in the opening by the bedside. The +dying woman sat upright, her eyes starting from +their sockets, her lips quivering, her face pale, her +emaciated hands grasping the bed-clothes, as if to +support herself, and looking as much aghast as if +her confession had called up the apparition of her +betrayed friend.</p> + +<p>“Hannah Irwin,” said Clara, with her usual +sweetness of tone, “my early friend—my unprovoked +enemy!—Betake thee to Him who hath +pardon for us all, and betake thee with confidence—for +I pardon you as freely as if you had never +wronged me—as freely as I desire my own pardon.—Farewell—Farewell!”<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_306" id="vol_ii_Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span></p> + +<p>She retired from the room, ere the clergyman +could convince himself that it was more than a +phantom which he beheld. He ran down stairs—he +summoned assistants, but no one could attend +his call; for the deep ruckling groans of the patient +satisfied every one that she was breathing her last; +and Mrs. Dods, with the maid-servant, ran into the +bedroom, to witness the death of Hannah Irwin, +which shortly after took place.</p> + +<p>That event had scarcely occurred, when the +maid-servant who had been left in the inn, came +down in great terror to acquaint her mistress, that +a lady had entered the house like a ghost, and was +dying in Mr. Tyrrel's room. The truth of the story +we must tell our own way.</p> + +<p>In the irregular state of Miss Mowbray's mind, +a less violent impulse than that which she had +received from her brother's arbitrary violence, added +to the fatigues, dangers, and terrors of her night-walk, +might have exhausted the powers of her +body, and alienated those of her mind. We have +before said, that the lights in the clergyman's house +had probably attracted her attention, and in the +temporary confusion of a family, never remarkable +for its regularity, she easily mounted the stairs, +and entered the sick chamber undiscovered, and +thus overheard Hannah Irwin's confession, a tale +sufficient to have greatly aggravated her mental +malady.</p> + +<p>We have no means of knowing whether she actually +sought Tyrrel, or whether it was, as in the +former case, the circumstance of a light still burning +where all around was dark, that attracted her; +but her next apparition was close by the side of +her unfortunate lover, then deeply engaged in writ<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_307" id="vol_ii_Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span>ing, +when something suddenly gleamed on a large, +old-fashioned mirror, which hung on the wall opposite. +He looked up, and saw the figure of Clara, +holding a light (which she had taken from the +passage) in her extended hand. He stood for an +instant with his eyes fixed on this fearful shadow, +ere he dared turn round on the substance which +was thus reflected. When he did so, the fixed and +pallid countenance almost impressed him with the +belief that he saw a vision, and he shuddered when, +stooping beside him, she took his hand. “Come +away!” she said, in a hurried voice—“Come away, +my brother follows to kill us both. Come, Tyrrel, +let us fly—we shall easily escape him.—Hannah +Irwin is on before—but, if we are overtaken, I will +have no more fighting—you must promise me that +we shall not—we have had but too much of that—but +you will be wise in future.”</p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 417px;"> +<img src="images/illus-2_307.jpg" width="417" height="600" alt="" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>“Clara Mowbray!” exclaimed Tyrrel. “Alas! +is it thus?—Stay—do not go,” for she turned to +make her escape—“stay—stay—sit down.”</p> + +<p>“I must go,” she replied, “I must go—I am +called—Hannah Irwin is gone before to tell all, +and I must follow. Will you not let me go?—Nay, +if you will hold me by force, I know I must +sit down—but you will not be able to keep me for +all that.”</p> + +<p>A convulsion fit followed, and seemed, by its violence, +to explain that she was indeed bound for the +last and darksome journey. The maid, who at +length answered Tyrrel's earnest and repeated summons, +fled terrified at the scene she witnessed, and +carried to the Manse the alarm which we before +mentioned.</p> + +<p>The old landlady was compelled to exchange one<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_308" id="vol_ii_Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span> +scene of sorrow for another, wondering within herself +what fatality could have marked this single night +with so much misery. When she arrived at home, +what was her astonishment to find there the daughter +of the house, which, even in their alienation, +she had never ceased to love, in a state little short +of distraction, and tended by Tyrrel, whose state +of mind seemed scarce more composed than that of +the unhappy patient. The oddities of Mrs. Dods +were merely the rust which had accumulated upon +her character, but without impairing its native +strength and energy; and her sympathies were not +of a kind acute enough to disable her from thinking +and acting as decisively as circumstances required.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Tyrrel,” she said, “this is nae sight for +men folk—ye maun rise and gang to another +room.”</p> + +<p>“I will not stir from her,” said Tyrrel—“I will +not remove from her either now, or as long as she +or I may live.”</p> + +<p>“That will be nae lang space, Maister Tyrrel, +if ye winna be ruled by common sense.”</p> + +<p>Tyrrel started up, as if half comprehending what +she said, but remained motionless.</p> + +<p>“Come, come,” said the compassionate landlady; +“do not stand looking on a sight sair enough to +break a harder heart than yours, hinny—your ain +sense tells ye, ye canna stay here—Miss Clara shall +be weel cared for, and I'll bring word to your room-door +frae half-hour to half-hour how she is.”</p> + +<p>The necessity of the case was undeniable, and +Tyrrel suffered himself to be led to another apartment, +leaving Miss Mowbray to the care of the hostess +and her female assistants. He counted the +hours in an agony, less by the watch than by<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_309" id="vol_ii_Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span> +the visits which Mrs. Dods, faithful to her promise, +made from interval to interval, to tell him that +Clara was not better—that she was worse—and, +at last, that she did not think she could live over +morning. It required all the deprecatory influence +of the good landlady to restrain Tyrrel, who, calm +and cold on common occasions, was proportionally +fierce and impetuous when his passions were afloat, +from bursting into the room, and ascertaining, with +his own eyes, the state of the beloved patient. At +length there was a long interval—an interval of +hours—so long, indeed, that Tyrrel caught from it +the flattering hope that Clara slept, and that sleep +might bring refreshment both to mind and body. +Mrs. Dods, he concluded, was prevented from moving, +for fear of disturbing her patient's slumber; +and, as if actuated by the same feeling which he +imputed to her, he ceased to traverse his apartment, +as his agitation had hitherto dictated, and throwing +himself into a chair, forbore to move even a finger, +and withheld his respiration as much as possible, +just as if he had been seated by the pillow of the +patient. Morning was far advanced, when his landlady +appeared in his room with a grave and anxious +countenance.</p> + +<p>“Mr. Tyrrel,” she said, “ye are a Christian man.”</p> + +<p>“Hush, hush, for Heaven's sake!” he replied; +“you will disturb Miss Mowbray.”</p> + +<p>“Naething will disturb her, puir thing,” answered +Mrs. Dods; “they have muckle to answer for that +brought her to this!”</p> + +<p>“They have—they have indeed,” said Tyrrel, +striking his forehead; “and I will see her avenged +on every one of them!—Can I see her?”</p> + +<p>“Better not—better not,” said the good woman;<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_310" id="vol_ii_Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span> +but he burst from her, and rushed into the +apartment.</p> + +<p>“Is life gone?—Is every spark extinct?” he +exclaimed eagerly to a country surgeon, a sensible +man, who had been summoned from Marchthorn in +the course of the night. The medical man shook +his head—Tyrrel rushed to the bedside, and was +convinced by his own eyes that the being whose +sorrows he had both caused and shared, was now +insensible to all earthly calamity. He raised almost +a shriek of despair, as he threw himself on the pale +hand of the corpse, wet it with tears, devoured it +with kisses, and played for a short time the part of +a distracted person. At length, on the repeated +expostulation of all present, he suffered himself to be +again conducted to another apartment, the surgeon +following, anxious to give such sad consolation as +the case admitted of.</p> + +<p>“As you are so deeply concerned for the untimely +fate of this young lady,” he said, “it may be some +satisfaction to you, though a melancholy one, to +know, that it has been occasioned by a pressure on +the brain, probably accompanied by a suffusion; +and I feel authorized in stating, from the symptoms, +that if life had been spared, reason would, in all +probability, never have returned. In such a case, +sir, the most affectionate relation must own, that +death, in comparison to life, is a mercy.”</p> + +<p>“Mercy?” answered Tyrrel; “but why, then, +is it denied to me?—I know—I know!—My life +is spared till I revenge her.”</p> + +<p>He started from his seat, and hurried eagerly +down stairs. But, as he was about to rush from the +door of the inn, he was stopped by Touchwood, +who had just alighted from a carriage, with an air<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_311" id="vol_ii_Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span> +of stern anxiety imprinted on his features, very +different from their usual expression. “Whither +would ye? Whither would ye?” he said, laying +hold of Tyrrel, and stopping him by force.</p> + +<p>“For revenge—for revenge!” said Tyrrel. +“Give way, I charge you, on your peril!”</p> + +<p>“Vengeance belongs to God,” replied the old man, +“and his bolt has fallen.—This way—this way,” +he continued, dragging Tyrrel into the house. +“Know,” he said, so soon as he had led or forced +him into a chamber, “that Mowbray of St. Ronan's +has met Bulmer within this half hour, and has killed +him on the spot.”</p> + +<p>“Killed?—whom?” answered the bewildered +Tyrrel.</p> + +<p>“Valentine Bulmer, the titular Earl of +Etherington.”</p> + +<p>“You bring tidings of death to the house of +death,” answered Tyrrel; “and there is nothing in +this world left that I should live for!”<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_312" id="vol_ii_Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol_ii_CHAPTER_XX" id="vol_ii_CHAPTER_XX"></a>CHAPTER XX.</h2> + +<h3>CONCLUSION.</h3> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Here come we to our close—for that which follows<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Is but the tale of dull, unvaried misery.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Steep crags and headlong linns may court the pencil,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Like sudden haps, dark plots, and strange adventures;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But who would paint the dull and fog-wrapt moor,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">In its long track of sterile desolation?<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="citation"> +<i>Old Play.</i><br /> +</p> + + +<p>When Mowbray crossed the brook, as we have +already detailed, his mind was in that wayward and +uncertain state, which seeks something whereon to +vent the self-engendered rage with which it labours, +like a volcano before eruption. On a sudden, a +shot or two, followed by loud voices and laughter +reminded him he had promised, at that hour, and +in that sequestered place, to decide a bet respecting +pistol-shooting, to which the titular Lord Etherington, +Jekyl, and Captain MacTurk, to whom such a +pastime was peculiarly congenial, were parties as +well as himself. The prospect this recollection +afforded him, of vengeance on the man whom he +regarded as the author of his sister's wrongs, was, +in the present state of his mind, too tempting to be +relinquished; and, setting spurs to his horse, he +rushed through the copse to the little glade, where +he found the other parties, who, despairing of his +arrival, had already begun their amusement. A +jubilee shout was set up as he approached.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_313" id="vol_ii_Page_313">[Pg 313]</a></span></p> + +<p>“Here comes Mowbray, dripping, by Cot, like a +watering-pan,” said Captain MacTurk.</p> + +<p>“I fear him not,” said Etherington, (we may as +well still call him so,) “he has ridden too fast to +have steady nerves.”</p> + +<p>“We shall soon see that, my Lord Etherington, +or rather Mr. Valentine Bulmer,” said Mowbray, +springing from his horse, and throwing the bridle +over the bough of a tree.</p> + +<p>“What does this mean, Mr. Mowbray?” said +Etherington, drawing himself up, while Jekyl and +Captain MacTurk looked at each other in surprise.</p> + +<p>“It means, sir, that you are a rascal and impostor,” +replied Mowbray, “who have assumed a name +to which you have no right.”</p> + +<p>“That, Mr. Mowbray, is an insult I cannot carry +farther than this spot,” said Etherington.</p> + +<p>“If you had been willing to do so, you should +have carried with it something still harder to be +borne,” answered Mowbray.</p> + +<p>“Enough, enough, my good sir; no use in spurring +a willing horse.—Jekyl, you will have the +kindness to stand by me in this matter?”</p> + +<p>“Certainly, my lord,” said Jekyl.</p> + +<p>“And, as there seems to be no chance of taking +up the matter amicably,” said the pacific Captain +MacTurk, “I will be most happy, so help me, to +assist my worthy friend, Mr. Mowbray of St. Ronan's, +with my countenance and advice.—Very goot +chance that we were here with the necessary +weapons, since it would have been an unpleasant +thing to have such an affair long upon the stomach, +any more than to settle it without witnesses.”</p> + +<p>“I would fain know first,” said Jekyl, “what all +this sudden heat has arisen about.”<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_314" id="vol_ii_Page_314">[Pg 314]</a></span></p> + +<p>“About nothing,” said Etherington, “except a +mare's nest of Mr. Mowbray's discovering. He +always knew his sister played the madwoman, and +he has now heard a report, I suppose, that she has +likewise in her time played the —— fool.”</p> + +<p>“O, crimini!” cried Captain MacTurk, “my +good Captain, let us pe loading and measuring out—for, +by my soul, if these sweetmeats be passing +between them, it is only the twa ends of a hankercher +than can serve the turn—Cot tamn!”</p> + +<p>With such friendly intentions, the ground was +hastily meted out. Each was well known as an +excellent shot; and the Captain offered a bet to +Jekyl of a mutchkin of Glenlivat, that both would +fall by the first fire. The event showed that he +was nearly right; for the ball of Lord Etherington +grazed Mowbray's temple, at the very second of time +when Mowbray's pierced his heart. He sprung a +yard from the ground, and fell down a dead man. +Mowbray stood fixed like a pillar of stone, his arm +dropped to his side, his hand still clenched on the +weapon of death, reeking at the touch-hole and +muzzle. Jekyl ran to raise and support his friend, +and Captain MacTurk, having adjusted his spectacles, +stooped on one knee to look him in the face. “We +should have had Dr. Quackleben here,” he said, +wiping his glasses, and returning them to the shagreen +case, “though it would have been only for +form's sake—for he is as dead as a toor-nail, poor +boy.—But come, Mowbray, my bairn,” he said, +taking him by the arm, “we must be ganging our +ain gait, you and me, before waur comes of it.—I +have a bit powney here, and you have your horse +till we get to Marchthorn.—Captain Jekyl, I wish +you a good morning. Will you have my umbrella<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_315" id="vol_ii_Page_315">[Pg 315]</a></span> +back to the inn, for I surmeese it is going to +rain?”</p> + +<p>Mowbray had not ridden a hundred yards with +his guide and companion, when he drew his bridle, +and refused to proceed a step farther, till he had +learned what was become of Clara. The Captain +began to find he had a very untractable pupil to +manage, when, while they were arguing together, +Touchwood drove past in his hack chaise. As soon +as he recognised Mowbray, he stopped the carriage +to inform him that his sister was at the Aultoun, +which he had learned from finding there had been a +messenger sent from thence to the Well for medical +assistance, which could not be afforded, the Esculapius +of the place, Dr. Quackleben, having been +privately married to Mrs. Blower on that morning, +by Mr. Chatterly, and having set out on the usual +nuptial tour.</p> + +<p>In return for this intelligence, Captain MacTurk +communicated the fate of Lord Etherington. The +old man earnestly pressed instant flight, for which +he supplied at the same time ample means, engaging +to furnish every kind of assistance and support +to the unfortunate young lady; and representing to +Mowbray, that if he staid in the vicinity, a prison +would soon separate them. Mowbray and his companion +then departed southward upon the spur, +reached London in safety, and from thence went +together to the Peninsula, where the war was then +at the hottest.</p> + +<p>There remains little more to be told. Mr. Touchwood +is still alive, forming plans which have no +object, and accumulating a fortune, for which he +has apparently no heir. The old man had endeavoured +to fix this character, as well as his general<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_316" id="vol_ii_Page_316">[Pg 316]</a></span> +patronage, upon Tyrrel, but the attempt only determined +the latter to leave the country; nor has he +been since heard of, although the title and estates +of Etherington lie vacant for his acceptance. It is +the opinion of many, that he has entered into a +Moravian mission, for the use of which he had previously +drawn considerable sums.</p> + +<p>Since Tyrrel's departure, no one pretends to guess +what old Touchwood will do with his money. He +often talks of his disappointments, but can never +be made to understand, or at least to admit, that +they were in some measure precipitated by his own +talent for intrigue and manœuvring. Most people +think that Mowbray of St. Ronan's will be at last +his heir. That gentleman has of late shown one +quality which usually recommends men to the favour +of rich relations, namely, a close and cautious care +of what is already his own. Captain MacTurk's +military ardour having revived when they came +within smell of gunpowder, the old soldier contrived +not only to get himself on full pay, but to +induce his companion to serve for some time as a +volunteer. He afterwards obtained a commission, +and nothing could be more strikingly different than +was the conduct of the young Laird of St. Ronan's +and of Lieutenant Mowbray. The former, as we +know, was gay, venturous, and prodigal; the latter +lived on his pay, and even within it—denied himself +comforts, and often decencies, when doing so +could save a guinea; and turned pale with apprehension, +if, on any extraordinary occasion, he ventured +sixpence a corner at whist. This meanness, +or closeness of disposition, prevents his holding the +high character to which his bravery and attention +to his regimental duties might otherwise entitle<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_317" id="vol_ii_Page_317">[Pg 317]</a></span> +him. The same close and accurate calculation of +pounds, shillings, and pence, marked his communications +with his agent Meiklewham, who might +otherwise have had better pickings out of the estate +of St. Ronan's, which is now at nurse, and thriving +full fast; especially since some debts, of rather an +usurious character, have been paid up by Mr. Touchwood, +who contented himself with more moderate +usage.</p> + +<p>On the subject of this property, Mr. Mowbray, +generally speaking, gave such minute directions for +acquiring and saving, that his old acquaintance, Mr. +Winterblossom, tapping his morocco snuff-box with +the sly look which intimated the coming of a good +thing, was wont to say, that he had reversed the +usual order of transformation, and was turned into +a grub after having been a butterfly. After all, +this narrowness, though a more ordinary modification +of the spirit of avarice, may be founded on the +same desire of acquisition, which in his earlier days +sent him to the gaming-table.</p> + +<p>But there was one remarkable instance in which +Mr. Mowbray departed from the rules of economy, +by which he was guided in all others. Having +acquired, for a large sum of money, the ground +which he had formerly feued out for the erection of +the hotel, lodging-houses, shops, &c., at St. Ronan's +Well, he sent positive orders for the demolition of +the whole, nor would he permit the existence of any +house of entertainment on his estate, except that in +the Aultoun, where Mrs. Dods reigns with undisputed +sway, her temper by no means improved +either by time, or her arbitrary disposition by the +total absence of competition.</p> + +<p>Why Mr. Mowbray, with his acquired habits of<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_318" id="vol_ii_Page_318">[Pg 318]</a></span> +frugality, thus destroyed a property which might +have produced a considerable income, no one could +pretend to affirm. Some said that he remembered +his own early follies; and others, that he connected +the buildings with the misfortunes of his sister. The +vulgar reported, that Lord Etherington's ghost had +been seen in the ball-room, and the learned talked +of the association of ideas. But it all ended in +this, that Mr. Mowbray was independent enough to +please himself, and that such was Mr. Mowbray's +pleasure.</p> + +<p>The little watering-place has returned to its +primitive obscurity; and lions and lionesses, with +their several jackals, blue surtouts, and bluer stockings, +fiddlers and dancers, painters and amateurs, +authors and critics, dispersed like pigeons by the +demolition of a dovecot, have sought other scenes +of amusement and rehearsal, and have deserted <span class="smcap">St. +Ronan's Well</span>.<a name="vol_ii_FNanchor_12_12" id="vol_ii_FNanchor_12_12"></a><a href="#vol_ii_Footnote_12_12" class="fnanchor">[12]</a></p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol_ii_Footnote_1_1" id="vol_ii_Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#vol_ii_FNanchor_1_1"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> At Kilruddery, the noble seat of Lord Meath, in the county +of Wicklow, there is a situation for private theatrical exhibitions +in the open air, planted out with the evergreens which arise there +in the most luxuriant magnificence. It has a wild and romantic +effect, reminding one of the scene in which Bottom rehearsed his +pageant, with a green plot for a stage, and a hawthorn brake +for a tiringroom.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol_ii_Footnote_2_2" id="vol_ii_Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#vol_ii_FNanchor_2_2"><span class="label">[2]</span></a> See Mr. William Stewart Rose's very interesting Letters +from the North of Italy, Vol. I. Letter XXX., where this curious +subject is treated with the information and precision which distinguish +that accomplished author.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol_ii_Footnote_3_3" id="vol_ii_Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#vol_ii_FNanchor_3_3"><span class="label">[3]</span></a> “The Arnaouts or Albanese,” (says Lord Byron,) “struck +me forcibly by their resemblance to the Highlanders of Scotland, +in dress, figure, and manner of living. Their very mountains +seem Caledonian, with a kinder climate. The kilt, though +white; the spare, active form; their dialect Celtic, in the sound, +and their hardy habits, all carried me back to Morven.”—<i>Notes +to the Second Chapter of Childe Harold's Pilgrimage.</i></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol_ii_Footnote_4_4" id="vol_ii_Footnote_4_4"></a><a href="#vol_ii_FNanchor_4_4"><span class="label">[4]</span></a> The well known crest of this ancient race, is a cat rampant +with a motto bearing the caution—“Touch not the cat, but [<i>i.e. +be out</i>, or without] the glove.”</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol_ii_Footnote_5_5" id="vol_ii_Footnote_5_5"></a><a href="#vol_ii_FNanchor_5_5"><span class="label">[5]</span></a> See Editor's Notes at the end of the Volume. Wherever a +similar reference occurs, the reader will understand that the same +direction applies.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol_ii_Footnote_6_6" id="vol_ii_Footnote_6_6"></a><a href="#vol_ii_FNanchor_6_6"><span class="label">[6]</span></a> Forgive me, sir, I was bred in the Imperial service, and +must smoke a little.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol_ii_Footnote_7_7" id="vol_ii_Footnote_7_7"></a><a href="#vol_ii_FNanchor_7_7"><span class="label">[7]</span></a> Smoke as much as you please; I have got my pipe, too.—See +what a beautiful head!</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol_ii_Footnote_8_8" id="vol_ii_Footnote_8_8"></a><a href="#vol_ii_FNanchor_8_8"><span class="label">[8]</span></a> “Rob as a footpad.”</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol_ii_Footnote_9_9" id="vol_ii_Footnote_9_9"></a><a href="#vol_ii_FNanchor_9_9"><span class="label">[9]</span></a> <a href="#vol_ii_Note_I">Note I.</a></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol_ii_Footnote_10_10" id="vol_ii_Footnote_10_10"></a><a href="#vol_ii_FNanchor_10_10"><span class="label">[10]</span></a> <a href="#vol_ii_Note_II">Note II.</a></p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol_ii_Footnote_11_11" id="vol_ii_Footnote_11_11"></a><a href="#vol_ii_FNanchor_11_11"><span class="label">[11]</span></a> A fool is so termed in Turkey.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol_ii_Footnote_12_12" id="vol_ii_Footnote_12_12"></a><a href="#vol_ii_FNanchor_12_12"><span class="label">[12]</span></a> <a href="#vol_ii_Note_III">Note III.</a>—Meg Dods.</p></div> +</div> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_319" id="vol_ii_Page_319">[Pg 319]</a></span></p> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol_ii_AUTHORS_NOTES" id="vol_ii_AUTHORS_NOTES"></a>AUTHOR'S NOTES.</h2> + + +<h3><a name="vol_ii_Note_I" id="vol_ii_Note_I"></a>Note I., p. 202.</h3> + +<p>There were several instances of this dexterity, but especially +those which occurred in the celebrated case of Murdison and +Millar, in 1773. These persons, a sheep-farmer and his shepherd, +settled in the vale of Tweed, commenced and carried on +for some time an extensive system of devastation on the flocks +of their neighbours. A dog belonging to Millar was so well +trained, that he had only to show him during the day the +parcel of sheep which he desired to have; and when dismissed +at night for the purpose, Yarrow went right to the +pasture where the flock had fed, and carried off the quantity +shown him. He then drove them before him by the most +secret paths to Murdison's farm, where the dishonest master +and servant were in readiness to receive the booty. Two +things were remarkable. In the first place, that if the dog, +when thus dishonestly employed, actually met his master, he +observed great caution in recognising him, as if he had been +afraid of bringing him under suspicion; secondly, that he +showed a distinct sense that the illegal transactions in which +he was engaged were not of a nature to endure daylight. The +sheep which he was directed to drive, were often reluctant to +leave their own pastures, and sometimes the intervention of +rivers or other obstacles made their progress peculiarly difficult. +On such occasions, Yarrow continued his efforts to +drive his plunder forward, until the day began to dawn, a +signal which, he conceived, rendered it necessary for him to +desert his spoil, and slink homeward by a circuitous road. It +is generally said this accomplished dog was hanged along with +his master; but the truth is, he survived him long, in the +service of a man in Leithen, yet was said afterwards to have +shown little of the wonderful instinct exhibited in the employment +of Millar.</p> + +<p>Another instance of similar sagacity, a friend of mine discovered +in a beautiful little spaniel, which he had purchased<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_320" id="vol_ii_Page_320">[Pg 320]</a></span> +from a dealer in the canine race. When he entered a shop, he +was not long in observing that his little companion made it a +rule to follow at some interval, and to estrange itself from his +master so much as to appear totally unconnected with him. +And when he left the shop, it was the dog's custom to remain +behind him till it could find an opportunity of seizing a pair +of gloves, or silk stockings, or some similar property, which it +brought to its master. The poor fellow probably saved its +life by falling into the hands of an honest man.</p> + + +<h3><a name="vol_ii_Note_II" id="vol_ii_Note_II"></a>Note II., p. 213.</h3> + +<p>The author has made an attempt in this character to draw a +picture of what is too often seen, a wretched being whose heart +becomes hardened and spited at the world, in which she is +doomed to experience much misery and little sympathy. +The system of compulsory charity by poor's rates, of which +the absolute necessity can hardly be questioned, has connected +with it on both sides some of the most odious and malevolent +feelings that can agitate humanity. The quality of true +charity is not strained. Like that of mercy, of which, in a +large sense, it may be accounted a sister virtue, it blesses him +that gives and him that takes. It awakens kindly feelings +both in the mind of the donor and in that of the relieved +object. The giver and receiver are recommended to each +other by mutual feelings of good-will, and the pleasurable +emotions connected with the consciousness of a good action +fix the deed in recollection of the one, while a sense of gratitude +renders it holy to the other. In the legal and compulsory +assessment for the proclaimed parish pauper, there is +nothing of all this. The alms are extorted from an unwilling +hand, and a heart which desires the annihilation, rather than +the relief, of the distressed object. The object of charity, +sensible of the ill-will with which the pittance is bestowed, +seizes on it as his right, not as a favour. The manner of conferring +it being directly calculated to hurt and disgust his +feelings, he revenges himself by becoming impudent and clamorous. +A more odious picture, or more likely to deprave the +feelings of those exposed to its influence, can hardly be +imagined; and yet to such a point have we been brought by +an artificial system of society, that we must either deny altogether +the right of the poor to their just proportion of the<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_321" id="vol_ii_Page_321">[Pg 321]</a></span> +fruits of the earth, or afford them some means of subsistence +out of them by the institution of positive law.</p> + + +<h3><a name="vol_ii_Note_III" id="vol_ii_Note_III"></a>Note III., p. 318.</h3> + +<p><i>Non omnis moriar.</i> Saint Ronan's, since this veracious history +was given to the public, has revived as a sort of <i>alias</i>, or +second title, to the very pleasant village of Inverleithen upon +Tweed, where there is a medicinal spring much frequented by +visitors. Prizes for some of the manly and athletic sports, +common in the pastoral districts around, are competed for +under the title of the Saint Ronan's Games. Nay, Meg Dods +has produced herself of late from obscurity as authoress of a +work on Cookery, of which, in justice to a lady who makes so +distinguished a figure as this excellent dame, we insert the +title-page:</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>“The Cook and Housewife's Manual: A Practical System +of Modern Domestic Cookery and Family Management.</p> + +<p> +————<i>‘Cook, see all your sawces<br /> +Be sharp and poynant in the palate, that they may<br /> +Commend you: look to your roast and baked meats handsomely,<br /> +And what new kickshaws and delicate made things.’</i><br /> +<span class="smcap" style="margin-left: 8em;">Beaumont and Fletcher</span>.<br /> +</p> + +<p>By Mistress Margaret Dods, of the Cleikum Inn, St. Ronan's.”</p></div> + +<p>Though it is rather unconnected with our immediate subject, +we cannot help adding, that Mrs. Dods has preserved the +recipes of certain excellent old dishes which we would be loath +should fall into oblivion in our day; and in bearing this testimony, +we protest that we are no way biassed by the receipt +of two bottles of excellent sauce for cold meat, which were +sent to us by the said Mrs. Dods, as a mark of her respect and +regard, for which we return her our unfeigned thanks, having +found them capital.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_322" id="vol_ii_Page_322">[Pg 322]</a></span></p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_323" id="vol_ii_Page_323">[Pg 323]</a></span> </p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol_ii_EDITORS_NOTES" id="vol_ii_EDITORS_NOTES"></a>EDITOR'S NOTES.</h2> + + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol_ii_Footnote_A_13" id="vol_ii_Footnote_A_13"></a><a href="#vol_ii_FNanchor_A_13"><span class="label">[A]</span></a> p. 104. “Tietania.” A little book on the art of tying +the neckcloth, in the age of Brummel and his “failures.” +Copies may occasionally be found on the bookstalls. It is not +in the Abbotsford Library.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol_ii_Footnote_B_14" id="vol_ii_Footnote_B_14"></a><a href="#vol_ii_FNanchor_B_14"><span class="label">[B]</span></a> p. 151. “I first persuaded her to quit the path of duty.” +This remark of Tyrrel's is one of the many surviving traces of +the original plot.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol_ii_Footnote_C_15" id="vol_ii_Footnote_C_15"></a><a href="#vol_ii_FNanchor_C_15"><span class="label">[C]</span></a> p. 220. “Master Stephen.” A character of Ben Jonson's +already referred to—he who wished for a stool to be sad upon.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol_ii_Footnote_D_16" id="vol_ii_Footnote_D_16"></a><a href="#vol_ii_FNanchor_D_16"><span class="label">[D]</span></a> p. 223. “A Canon of Strasburgh.” Scott frequently +refers, in accounts of the roof of the hall of Abbotsford, which +he blazoned with his quarterings, to his deficiency in the sixteen +necessary for a Canonry. Three shields, those connected +with the Rutherfords of Hunthill, are vacant, or rather are +painted with clouds.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol_ii_Footnote_E_17" id="vol_ii_Footnote_E_17"></a><a href="#vol_ii_FNanchor_E_17"><span class="label">[E]</span></a> p. 238. “One of Plutarch's heroes, if I mistake not.” +It was not a hero of Plutarch's, but Pindar the poet, who was +warned by Persephone that he had neglected to honour her by +an ode.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol_ii_Footnote_F_18" id="vol_ii_Footnote_F_18"></a><a href="#vol_ii_FNanchor_F_18"><span class="label">[F]</span></a> p. 254. “They can scarcely say worse of me than I deserve.” +In this remark of Clara's we have another trace of the +original plot, involving Clara's lapse from virtue. The whole +scene, with Mowbray's “You having been such as you own yourself,” +was made unintelligible by Ballantyne's objection.</p></div> + +<div class="footnote"><p><a name="vol_ii_Footnote_G_19" id="vol_ii_Footnote_G_19"></a><a href="#vol_ii_FNanchor_G_19"><span class="label">[G]</span></a> p. 300. “A corbie messenger.” It seems unlikely that +the Scots had a legend like the Greek one concerning the evil +“corbie” or raven messenger to Apollo about his false lady-love, +but no other explanation suggests itself.</p></div> + +<p style="text-align: right;"> +<span class="smcap">Andrew Lang</span>.<br /> +</p> + +<p><i>December 1893.</i></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol_ii_APPENDIX" id="vol_ii_APPENDIX"></a>APPENDIX.</h2> + + +<p>[The following extract from the proof-sheets containing Scott's +original conclusion of “St. Ronan's Well” was sent to the +Athenæum of Feb. 4, 1893, by Mr. J. M. Collyer. The proof-<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_324" id="vol_ii_Page_324">[Pg 324]</a></span>sheets +are in the possession of Mr. Archibald Constable. The +scene, of which a few lines remain in the authorised texts, is +that of Hannah Irwin's Confession to Josiah Cargill.</p> + +<p>“Oh, most unhappy woman,” he said, “what does your introduction +prepare me to expect?”</p> + +<p>“Your expectation, be it ever so ominous, shall be fully satisfied. +That Bulmer, when he told you that a secret marriage was necessary +to Miss Mowbray's honour, thought that he was imposing on you.—But +he told you a fatal truth, so far as concerned Clara. She +had indeed fallen, but Bulmer was not her seducer—knew nothing +of the truth of what he so strongly asseverated.”</p> + +<p>“<i>He</i> was not her lover, then?—And how came he, then, to press +to marry her?—Or, how came you”——</p> + +<p>“Hear me—but question not.—Bulmer had gained the advantage +over me which he pretended to have had over Clara. From +that moment my companion's virtue became at once the object of +my envy and hatred: yet, so innocent were the lovers, that, despite +of the various arts which I used to entrap them, they remained +guiltless until the fatal evening when Clara met Tyrrel for the last +time ere he removed from the neighbourhood—and then the devil +and Hannah Irwin triumphed. Much there was of remorse—much +of resolutions of separation until the Church should unite them—but +these only forwarded my machinations—for I was determined +she should wed Bulmer, not Tyrrel.”</p> + +<p>“Wretch!” exclaimed the clergyman: “and had you not, then, +done enough? Why did you expose the paramour of one brother to +become the wife of another?”</p> + +<p>She paused, and answered sullenly, “I had my reasons—Bulmer +had treated me with scorn. He told me plainly that he used me +but as a stepping-stone to his own purposes: and that these finally +centred in wedding Clara. I was resolved he should wed her, and +take with her infamy and misery to his bed.”</p> + +<p>“This is too horrible,” said Cargill, endeavouring, with a trembling +hand, to make minutes of her confession.</p> + +<p>“Ay,” said the sick woman, “but I contended with a master of +the game, who played me stratagem for stratagem. If I destined +for him a dishonoured wife, he contrived by his agent, Solmes, to +match me with a husband imposed on me by his devices as a man of +fortune,” &c.—<span class="smcap">Ed.</span>]</p> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_325" id="vol_ii_Page_325">[Pg 325]</a></span></p> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><a name="vol_ii_GLOSSARY" id="vol_ii_GLOSSARY"></a>GLOSSARY.</h2> + + +<p>A', all.</p> + +<p>Abbey, the sanctuary for debtors at Holyrood Abbey.</p> + +<p>Ae, one.</p> + +<p>Aff, off.</p> + +<p>Ail, to prevent.</p> + +<p>Ainsell, oneself.</p> + +<p>An, if.</p> + +<p>Ance, once.</p> + +<p>Ane, one.</p> + +<p>Asper, a Turkish coin of small value.</p> + +<p>“Athole brose,” honey mixed with whisky, used in the Highlands sometimes as a luxury, sometimes as a specific for a cold.</p> + +<p>Aught, eight.</p> + +<p>Awa, away.</p> + + +<p>Bairn, a child.</p> + +<p>Baith, both.</p> + +<p>Barmy-brained, giddy, feather-brained.</p> + +<p>Baron-bailie, a kind of magistrate, the baron's deputy in a burgh of barony.</p> + +<p>Basket-beagles, beagles that chased a hare slipped from a basket.</p> + +<p>Bauld, bold.</p> + +<p>Bawbee, a halfpenny.</p> + +<p>Bedral, a sexton.</p> + +<p>Begum, an Indian princess, or lady of high rank.</p> + +<p>Bidden, remained.</p> + +<p>Blawort, a bluebottle.</p> + +<p>Blunt, money.</p> + +<p>Bodle, a small copper coin.</p> + +<p>“Bow Street runners,” London detectives.</p> + +<p>Braid, broad.</p> + +<p>Brank, span.</p> + +<p>Briquet, a steel with which to strike a light.</p> + +<p>Brose, oatmeal over which boiling water has been poured.</p> + +<p>Browst, a brewing, as much as is brewed at one time.</p> + +<p>Bruick, a kind of boil.</p> + +<p>“By ordinar,” out of the common run.</p> + + +<p>Cadi, a judge.</p> + +<p>Callant, a lad.</p> + +<p>Cantrip, a piece of mischief.</p> + +<p>Capernoity, crabbed, irritable.</p> + +<p>Carline, a witch.</p> + +<p>Cheeny, china.</p> + +<p>Clachan, a hamlet.</p> + +<p>Claise, clothes.</p> + +<p>Cleugh, a rugged ascent.</p> + +<p>Corbie, a raven. “Corbie messenger,” a messenger who either returns not at all, or too late.</p> + +<p>Cull, a fool.</p> + + +<p>Daffing, frolicking.</p> + +<p>Deil, the devil.</p> + +<p>Diddled, beaten, got the better of.</p> + +<p>Dinna, don't.</p> + +<p>Div, do.</p> + +<p>Dorts, in a sullen humour.</p> + +<p>Douce, quiet, sensible.</p> + +<p>Dub-skelper—used contemptuously for a rambling fellow, an idle vagabond.</p> + +<p>Dwam, a stupor.</p> + + +<p>Encognure, a corner table.</p> + +<p>Eneugh, enough.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_326" id="vol_ii_Page_326">[Pg 326]</a></span></p> + + +<p>Fand, found.</p> + +<p>Faughta, a sort of pigeon sacred amongst the Hindoos.</p> + +<p>Feir, with good countenance.</p> + +<p>Fend, defence.</p> + +<p>Feuar, one who holds lands in feu—<i>i.e.</i>, on lease.</p> + +<p>Fit, foot.</p> + +<p>Flisk-ma-hoy, new-fangled.</p> + +<p>Forby, besides.</p> + +<p>Frae, from.</p> + +<p>Fule, a fool.</p> + +<p>“Fusionless skink,” tasteless stuff.</p> + + +<p>Gae, go; gaen, gone.</p> + +<p>Gait, gate, way, direction.</p> + +<p>Galopin, a scullion or errand-boy.</p> + +<p>Ganging, going.</p> + +<p>Gar, to force, to make. “Gars +me grue,” gives me the creeps.</p> + +<p>Gard, made.</p> + +<p>Gay, very.</p> + +<p>Geeing, giving.</p> + +<p>“Gentlemen of the fancy,” +prize-fighters.</p> + +<p>Gin, if.</p> + +<p>Girn, to grin.</p> + +<p>Girning, whining.</p> + +<p>Glenlivat, a celebrated whisky +distillery.</p> + +<p>Gowk, a fool.</p> + +<p>Grue, to shiver. The flesh is said to <i>grue</i> when a chilly sensation passes over the surface of the body.</p> + +<p>Gude, good. Gudewife, a landlady.</p> + +<p>Gusing-iron, a smoothing iron.</p> + + +<p>Hae, have.</p> + +<p>Hail, haill, whole.</p> + +<p>“Hale and feir,” right and proper.</p> + +<p>Hap, hop.</p> + +<p>Heritors, the landowners and proprietors of the parish.</p> + +<p>Hinny, a term of endearment = honey.</p> + +<p>Hirple, hobble.</p> + +<p>Hollah. <i>See</i> Faughta.</p> + +<p>Hoose, a house.</p> + +<p>Hough, the thigh.</p> + + +<p>Imaum, a Mohammedan ecclesiastic of high rank.</p> + +<p>I'se, I shall.</p> + + +<p>Jaud, a jade.</p> + +<p>Joseph, a riding-coat with buttons down the skirts.</p> + + +<p>Ken, to know.</p> + + +<p>“Lang syne,” long ago.</p> + +<p>Limmer, a worthless creature.</p> + + +<p>Maravedi, an old Spanish coin of small value.</p> + +<p>Maundered, mumble.</p> + +<p>Mickle, muckle, much.</p> + +<p>Mundungus, vile, ill-smelling tobacco.</p> + + +<p>Nae, no, not</p> + +<p>Neevie-neevie-nick-nack, a game with marbles, similar to “odd or even.”</p> + + +<p>“On the pad,” on the tramp.</p> + +<p>Ony, any.</p> + +<p>Or, before.</p> + +<p>Ower, over.</p> + + +<p>Pabouches, slippers.</p> + +<p>Pickle, a little, a small quantity.</p> + +<p>Pliskie, a trick.</p> + +<p>Plottie, mulled wine.</p> + +<p>Pococurante, one who affects indifference.</p> + +<p>Pomander-boxes, perfume-boxes.</p> + +<p>Poortith, poverty.</p> + +<p>Pownie, a pony.</p> + +<p>Puir, poor.</p> + + +<p>Raff, a worthless fellow, a nobody.</p> + +<p>Remora, an obstacle, hindrance.</p> + +<p>Rin, run.</p> + +<p>Roof-tree, the beam that supports the roof.<span class='pagenum'><a name="vol_ii_Page_327" id="vol_ii_Page_327">[Pg 327]</a></span></p> + + +<p>Sae, so.</p> + +<p>Sall, shall.</p> + +<p>Scaurs, jibs.</p> + +<p>Scrog, a stunted bush or scrub.</p> + +<p>“Sgherro insigne,” notorious cut-throat.</p> + +<p>Shieling, a hut.</p> + +<p>Shouther, the shoulder.</p> + +<p>Shroff, a Parsee or Indian merchant.</p> + +<p>Sic, such.</p> + +<p>Skeely, skilful.</p> + +<p>Slaister, a mess.</p> + +<p>Snooded, bound up with a snood or fillet for the hair.</p> + +<p>Soop, to sweep.</p> + +<p>Sorting, a correction with the hand or the tongue.</p> + +<p>“Sossings and soopings,” made-up soups and messes.</p> + +<p>Souvenir, a lady's reticule or hand-bag.</p> + +<p>Speer, to inquire.</p> + +<p>Sponsible, respectable.</p> + +<p>Swarf, to swoon.</p> + +<p>Syllabub, a curd made of wine or cider with milk or cream.</p> + + +<p>Taupie, tawpie, an awkward girl, a tomboy.</p> + +<p>Tinkler, a tinker.</p> + +<p>Titupping, lively, full of spirit.</p> + +<p>Tozie, a shawl of goat's wool.</p> + +<p>Troke, to traffic, do business with in a small way.</p> + +<p>Turbinacious, peaty, turfy.</p> + + +<p>“Ullah kerim!” God is merciful.</p> + +<p>Ultroneous, uncalled for, unusual.</p> + +<p>Umquhile, the late.</p> + +<p>Unco, very, particular, uncommon.</p> + +<p>Usquebaugh, whisky.</p> + + +<p>Wad, would.</p> + +<p>Wae, woful, sad.</p> + +<p>Waur, worse.</p> + +<p>Wee, small, little.</p> + +<p>Weel, well.</p> + +<p>Wheen, a few.</p> + +<p>Wi', with.</p> + +<p>Windlestrae, a small bundle of straw.</p> + +<p>Wizzened, withered.</p> + +<p>Wunna, will not.</p> + + +<p>Yestreen, last night.</p> + +<p>Yince, once.</p> + + +<h4>THE END.</h4> + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of St. Ronan's Well, by Sir Walter Scott + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ST. 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